#I feel horrible for not being around very much

[krosiefics]

i worship you • bang chan

MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Chris comes home from work insecure about himself after trying a new style of makeup at work. So you show him just how beautiful and perfect he is in your eyes.

WC: 1.5k

Tags: SMUT!! afab!reader, sub!chan, softdom,reader, BODY WORSHIP, cunnilingus, face riding, hickeys, grinding, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it plz), hair pulling(?), breeding kink, creampie, petnames (baby, babe, love, good boy), chan is insecure (*cue WMYB by 1D*), probably forgetting some sorry…

It’s almost midnight when your boyfriend arrives back home to the dorms. You’ve been waiting since ten for him to come home. Knowing that Jeongin would be gone, staying the night at Felix and Seungmin’s, you decided to lounge around in just one of Chan’s t-shirts.

Suddenly, the door of the dorm creaks open. Your beautiful boyfriend walks through the door. You turn your head with a smile, but it’s quickly wiped off when you see the scowl he wore. “Baby, what’s wrong.” You pout, brows furrowing. “Nothing, we just tried a different makeup style earlier today…”

“And?”

“And it looked so bad on me,” Chan groans, his hand flying up to his face, “everyone said it looked good, but that was only true for the kids. I looked horrible.”

It’s not often Chan openly is insecure, but weirdly you like that he’s able to tell you his insecurities. It shows just how much he trusts you. “Baby,” you rise from the couch, engulfing him in a hug, “you’re so handsome. It couldn’t have been bad. Do you have a picture?” Chan’s scowl deepens, “Yeah, but I don’t want you to see me like that-” You give him a look and he quiets, handing you his phone.

You unlock the device and go to the photos app. And there behold was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life. Chan had a faux lip ring, smokey eye shadow, his plump lips stained a nude pink, and his nose contoured perfectly. God you could eat this man up, you wanted to do badly.

Chan avoided watching your face, pouting over the thought of you disgusted by the makeup.

You slowly place the phone on the counter before taking his hand and leading him towards the couch. “It’s bad, I kno-” You cut him off with a kiss. When you pull back, you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re so fucking hot and it’s so fucking frustrating that you don’t see it!” Chan’s face flushed bright red, down his neck. Your hands still cupped his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “You’re just saying that cause you’re my girlfriend.”

You raise your brow at him to which he slightly cowers.

“And being your girlfriend means I should be honest and tell the truth…no?” Chan gulps, his eyes glancing quickly to your lips. He goes to lean it but you stop him by pulling away. “Tsk, tsk,” you shake your head, “why didn’t you like the makeup?” Your tone suddenly shifts. Chan very clearly feels vulnerable but he trusts you. “The eye makeup makes my eyebags more evident, and the nose contour makes my nose look even bigger than it is.” Chan frowns, eyes looking anywhere but you.

This time a frown makes its way onto your face. “Babe,” you sigh. Your eyes scan his face, traces of makeup that hadn’t been properly removed still lingering on his soft skin. A small bit of eyeshadow smudged along the corner of his eye messily. Fuck he looks hot. You think to yourself. Chan flinches when you suddenly press a kiss at the corner of his eye, down his cheek and back to his lips. You nudge him onto the couch. Tumbling over when the back of his knees hits the cushion causing you to land on top of him.

“What are you?” He asks before you start lifting the hem of his shirt up. Chan goes to slip it over his head but you stop him, leaving the material to rest just above his pecs. “Fucking hell.” You curse under your breath at the sight of your beautiful boyfriend under you, face, ears, and chest flushed, as you stared down at him with hungry eyes. “Oh fuck,” Chan groans when you lean down and pepper kisses along his chest, your tongue flicking at his hardened bud every now and then. “Love,” his hands reach for your face to pull you away, but you don’t let him. Simply staring up from your position, “Channie, I’m gonna take care of you tonight…yeah?”

Chan swears his heart stops. Not in a bad way. But in an “oh my god I love this woman so much” kind of way. You’ve never been shy about showing him love, whether that be through kisses on his body or simply just being with him in every moment. Excitement floods through Chan’s body as you roll your hips on top of his. “You’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He chuckles breathily. You smirk to yourself, Chan growing needy and desperate under your touch.

Suddenly, you swing your legs over off his lap. Chan goes to pull you back but you stop him, telling him to stay still. You shimmy your panties off, tossing them somewhere to the side. “Can you close your eyes for me baby?” You quip. The curly haired boy blinks up at you with confusion, though nonetheless obliging. Chan trusts you, and you know that.

With his eyes being closed all his other senses are heightened. Chan feels how the sofa cushion dips slightly by his head, hears the rustling of your shirt coming from above him, smells the scent of your arousal. The feeling of your throbbing cunt teasing his mouth prompts him to dart his tongue out, licking a stripe up your leaking cunt. “Woah,” you whimper at the sudden feeling. “You gonna let me ride your face and show you how much I love you?” Chan whines against your heat, the vibrations coursing through your pussy.

You set a pace, grinding against his face, his perfect nose poking at your clit each time you thrust yourself. “Fuck, I love your mouth.” You throw your head back in ecstasy, “How you’re licking me clean- oh my god…your nose- ugh, rubbing against my clit- oh my fuck.” You manage between moans, that familiar knot growing in your abdomen. Chan is a whimpering mess under you as you tug in his curly strands. His eyes still shut tight. Your body enveloping him, his senses overloaded. God he could die between your legs.

You near your climax but force yourself off of his mouth before you could let go. Chan pouts at the loss, his eyes fluttering open. Fuck. You bite your lip. His chin is smothered in your arousal, eyes glossy, chests heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath. God he looked ethereal. “You’re so pretty baby, all mine.” You hum, positioning yourself on his thighs. Your hand slithers down his sweatpants, tugging him out of his boxers. Pumping his throbbing hot cock in your hand, you feel as it twitches in your hand.

You glance up at the boy. Chan’s already staring down at you, his eyes full of anticipation. You drag your thumb along his slit prompting him to buck his hips upwards. “Sorry.” He mumbles, his face turning a slightly darker shade of pink- if that's even possible. You grin teasingly at your boyfriend. As much as you want to drag the teasing on, you’re quickly growing needy. You settle back up on his hips, rutting your wet folds along his shaft, coating it with your arousal, smearing the precum that’s leaking out of him.

“Baby please.” Chan breathes shakily, the feeling of his dick twitching against your core emits a grunt out of you. You sigh at the pleading boy, “You’ve been a good boy for me yeah?” Chan’s body stiffens under you, you feel like you’ve crossed a line- well not until you notice how he bites his lower lip and how more precum leaks from his cock. You smirk. “I guess you can get what you deserve.” With that, you slide his long cock inside your soaking cunt, sucking him in.

Chan groans as your warmth surrounds him. Spews of pleas and whimpers flood from his mouth as you bounce up and down his cock. His hands fly to your hips to keep you stable and offer some support. Chan’s head is slanted slightly, his clean neck and exposed. “Ah, fuck.” He hisses, a sharp pain tingling at his neck where you just bit him. You suck the spot, licking over it before continuing to mark up his neck. “You’re so handsome, gorgeous, fucking beautiful.” You mewl, his cock hitting your g spot directly.

“God I’m gonna cum.” He whines from underneath. “Yeah, baby? You’ve been such a good boy, I’m gonna let you fill me up yeah? Gonna fill my pussy with your seed?” You babble as your orgasm hits you like a truck, legs shaking besides Chan’s. The feeling of you clenching around him causes Chan to spill over the edge. His warm cum filling you to the brim.

The two of you lay on each other, catching your breath. You rest your chin on your chest and you can hear his heartbeat. “I love you.” Chan peers down at you with a grateful smile, “Love you too. Thanks by the way. I really needed that.” You hug him tightly, leaving a soft peck on his cheek. “It’s true, you know. I really do think that about you.” Flustered, Chan looks away again, though, a small grin shines on his face as he holds you closer.

🔖 @katsukis1wife @pixie0627

[just-some-random-blogger]

OK. WE have to start with the fact that your summary is 🫵THAT🫵 WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT I THOUGHT I WAS HERE FOR CUTE FUN TIMES WITH CREGAN WHAT IS HAPPENING WHY IS HE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE HELLO??????

YOU CRUMPLE THE letter in your fist, hearing the parchment wrinkle with a satisfying sound. Then, you throw it into the flames, watching as the fire grows slightly bigger, and the ball uncurls, alight for a second, before it is fully consumed.

..... I'm not gonna lie to you... I don't remember what I meant to say ...... I THINK ITS JUST ME PANICKING THAT WERE STARTING OFF LIKE THIS WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SIT CRISTI WHERES THE FUN TIMES NO IM SCARED

You had not realized you had started to measure time like this. Before and After Luke’s death, as people did with Before and After the Conquest.

Horrible reality but beautifully put my gosh I just ate chocolate pudding or something YUMMM

Whatever he is doing, hunched over his desk, is interrupted. “You cannot do this to me! Mother will not allow it.”

PFFFT IM SO SORRY HUNCHED OVER HAS ME GAGGED IDC IDC IF IM WASTING MY MEME REACTIONS ON THIS BUT ITS GIVING VERY MUCH THE POSTURE MEME

EXPECTATION VS REALITY

Also I get it now. I get why we're starting like this damn I was scared you made cregan into a cheater

But grief has made you into live lighting, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

UGHHHHHH WHAT THE HECK THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL I KEEP SAYING IMMA STEAL YOUR WORDS BECAUSE DAMN BUT ALAS I CANT REMEMBER TO DO IT COS IM NOT BUILT LIKE THAT WTFFFFF

“He has put a wife in the grave already.”

🧍‍♀️ OH. OK. I GET IT NOW FR FR

[...] You know the dangers of childbirth. Perhaps even better than I.”

😀 I love how he thinks this would comfort her

You hated being second in anything.

❤️‍🩹 I felt that

Being a twin meant having to share everything, including the love of those around you.

THEYRE TWINS? I FEEL LIKE I DIDNT COPY IT BUT RHAENA AND BAELA ARE TWINS TOO???? WHATTTT IM GAGGED I FEEL LIKE IM ALWAYS FINDING OUT PPL ARE TWINS IN YOUR FICS

When you married, you had hoped to be the only woman in your husband’s life, not to be compared to a ghost. You had seen exactly how that went. King Viserys had never forgotten his first wife, [...]

This is the part where we say together 🗣️FUCK🗣️YOU🗣️VISERYS🗣️ AND YAH IDK IF I COPIED IT OR NOT BUT THE PART WHERE YOU SAID HE CHOSE ALICENT MARRIED HER OUT OF LOVE 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 THATS WHY YOU ROTTED WHILE STILL ALIVE FUCK YOU IM SPITTING AT YOUR GRAVE

“You said you were afraid of childbirth, and he already has an heir. There is no better solution.”

CAN HE SHUT THE FUCK UP

As Jace prepares a scathing comeback, face scrunched up in mirrored displeasure to your own, [...]

They're so siblings™

“Why can the whole castle hear your quarrel?”

🤣🤣🤣 LIKE I SAID SO SIBLINGS

“My fault?!” He says, placing his hands on his hips. “Apologies, I think they didn’t hear your screeching about Lord Stark in Driftmark!”

NEJDJKDJ LOL THEYRE SO SIBLINGGGS ME TO MY SISTER

“I did. I think it is for the best. You will be safer next to Cregan Stark, in Winterfell, than you could ever be here.”

I HATE HER

[...] her mind is already made.

I understand her. I hate her

“You did because I have no dragon. I bet you are scheming to send Rhaena away too!”

💔💔💔💔💔 she knows her all too well

“I had to find out from a letter from fucking Cregan Stark. I am not leaving. You cannot make me. ”

I HATE THAT FOR HER. 🫵SAY🫵IT🫵TO🫵 MY 🫵FACE🫵

“Listen to me!” She says, shaking you hard. Tears begin to fall from her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to register them. “Listen to me! Luke is dead. He is dead, and you will obey me because I cannot bear to lose any more of my children. You are going North. Your Queen commands it.”

I understand her 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️😞😞😞😞😞 I hate her

He didn’t care if he appeared too eager, his usual stoicism was failing him in the face of his nerves.

GOLDEN RETRIEVER HUSBAND IM SO CONFUSED???? THIS GOT ME GIGGLING EVEN THO I WAS LIKE WHY HE EXCITED (spoiler he wasn't)

[...] playing Come-into-my-castle and Bears-and-maids. Cregan had unfortunately been the maid many more times than he preferred.

A naive little princess would never survive in the North.

??????????????? OH OK I GET IT BUT HELLO YOU HAVENT EVEN MET HER???

The Lady of Winterfell couldn’t be some frail little thing, she had to be strong. Strong enough to hold Winterfell in his absence if needed, were the threat from beyond the Wall come to pass.

YoU HAVENT EVEN MET HER MY BROTHER IN CHRIST CHILL

If he had to remarry and choose a southron, Cregan would have preferred a stronger one.

To receive the toothless dragon in his home and keep it safe. A favor, from an older brother to another. The Gods knew if Sara was near war at all, Cregan would do everything in his power to send her somewhere safe. He would be forever indebted to the man who aided him to do so.

I get you but also like ???? What are you going on about you haven't met her. ASUMERA

A true alliance. A Pact of Ice and Fire, to bound their bloodlines and keep the beloved, but defenseless sister safe.

Ok cool. Nice. This was cool but I'm mildly annoyed by cregan

Jacaerys was a serious man, no matter his dubious parentage.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💀💀💀💀✋✋✋✋✋ MAN REALLY SAID 🫵BASTARD🫵 AND I RESPECT HIM FOR IT AHHSHAH

Cregan had offered to have his men meet you halfway, but his letter doing so had gone unanswered.

I'm pretty sure I felt bad for him but now I think deserve

The wheelhouse and the men carried so many packages that Cregan would have known you were a Princess even without expecting you. Anyone would have known.

🤨 you have a problem with her dresses country bumpkin. So what shes a city girl. Shut yo ugly trap

You were… Pitiful. Cregan understood now why Prince Jacaerys was so desperate to protect you.

I hate that for her. I hate that men around her are like sad woman come hither 👎👎👎death by being fried alive

“She brought less of a procession than you did. And less luggage.”

BROOOOOOOOOOO HES STILL GOING

“She was. By far a more practical woman.” He smiles at you, teasingly. “But if the fuss makes you happy…”

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓ NO CUZ IM GLAD SHE FOUND THE HUMOR IN THA BECAUSE I WOULD HAE BODY SLAMMED HIM LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Your obsession with Valyrian history and traditions had been carefully nurtured by your stepfather, Daemon.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 MY MAN MY MY MAN MY MAN BEING A GOOD DAD????????? (BARE MINIMUM MOMENT)

When you had turned four and ten, Daemon had gifted you your very own book with Valyrian tales, a beautifully bound and illustrated edition that had followed you in your journey North.

“For you to read to your future children.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 DAEMON MAKING ME CRY AND BECOME SO SOFT AND NSNSSJMSSMMS

He had said, back then. You had barely flowered, so you had laughed. “I mean it, Princess. Out of my three girls, you are the only one I envision doing so.”

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Brb giving him 1000 daughters 🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

The man you had married didn’t love you. He had only done so to secure an alliance. And the man already had a child of his own, an heir.

Robbed twice is crazy. Sorrows sorrows prayers

They would have learned High Valyrian, and spoke it as beautifully as your mother and stepfather did.

🥺💔💔💔💔💔 MY LOVEEEEE

You had seen enough of your mother and Daemon to know bedding someone can be pleasing.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SEEN *ROLLS MAGAZINE* GET OFF THE FUCKING FURNITURE YOU FUCKING HORN DOGS

“It is not a sin. But why would you..?” You question, but your Lord Husband is getting up already, huffing. He seems angered that you are unable to understand his message, whatever it might be. He storms off, leaving you confused over his behaviour.

❓❓❓❓❓❓ WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM SANA NAGSALITA DIBA OA AMP

I fear I fear I fear I need to boil him in oil.this was nawwwwt where I thought this was going but I am EAGERRRRRR to know what it's headed UGHHHHHH loveeeeeeeee

Autumn (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Unreliable narrator!!!! Mature language. Descriptions of grief.

A/N: I was not expecting the response my silly little idea has gotten. I am very thankful for all of you who decide to read it, and would love to hear what you think of this chapter. Series masterlist here.

YOU CRUMPLE THE letter in your fist, hearing the parchment wrinkle with a satisfying sound. Then, you throw it into the flames, watching as the fire grows slightly bigger, and the ball uncurls, alight for a second, before it is fully consumed.

It doesn’t soothe you as you thought it would. The odious parchment offering you an honor guard from your future husband might be gone, but you still have to journey North before a moon since Luke’s funeral has passed.

At the thought of your brother, a sharp, stabbing pain, manifests in your chest. You choke down a sob. You had not realized you had started to measure time like this. Before and After Luke’s death, as people did with Before and After the Conquest.

Your grief only serves to fuel your rage, though. How could he? How could he demand you be wed when you were still in mourning? When you were still thinking of your sweet brother, not of keeps, and lords, and men?

“You dare!” You screech, barging inside Jacaerys’ rooms. Whatever he is doing, hunched over his desk, is interrupted. “You cannot do this to me! Mother will not allow it.”

Jace sets down his quill. He turns to look at you, his expression calm. You would think him indifferent, were it not for the fact that there is the slightest furrow of his brows.

“We need men.” He states, simply, and when you are about to interrupt him to say there are many more in the realm, he keeps speaking. “We need his men. The North is the largest kingdom, you know this as well as I. And when a Stark calls the banners, they are the only ones who respond in full.”

Your hands ball into fists. You hate that he is acting so composed, so rational. After Luke died, you felt like a chained dragon, roaring your grief and wishing to be freed to set ablaze those that had wronged you. Once, you had been as gracious as him and mother, composed even in the height of emotion. But grief has made you into live lighting, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

Your emotions are out of control. You know this. You get angered at the barest hint of an insult, you cry as easily as a newborn babe. Knowing it doesn’t stop you from lashing out, though. It only makes you regret it later.

“Our mother promised I was to have my pick of suitors, not that I would be sold like a cow!” You point an accusing finger to his chest. Jace sighs and gets up, surrounding the desk.

“I understand you are upset.” He tries offering you a hug, but you jerk away. His face hardens slightly. “But this is war.”

As if you do not know. As if you haven’t lost a sibling, too. Your face crumbles, and Jace calls your name, but hearing his voice, how similar Luke and him sound, only makes you cry harder.

“Hey, hey, it’s not so bad.” He hugs you, pressing your face against his doublet. The material is soft against your skin, and you feel tempted to let go of your rage against him and sink into his arms. Jace is barely a man, too, just as you are barely a woman. He is doing as best as he can, spread too thin by the weight of responsibility that comes with being heir. “Cregan is a good man. I got to know him during the time…”

Yes, he was doing as best as he could. But it hadn’t been his own hand that he had bartered away, had it? The insidious voice in your head asks. It isn’t him who is making a sacrifice. And such a hollow one. He claims to need men, but he won’t be getting even the full northern army.

“You sold me for a few Greybeards! Not even a proper army! Good Gods, you are a fool.” You cry out.

“Lord Stark assures me…” Jace starts, with the tone of someone who has already had this same argument. Were you thinking clearly, you would pause and realize why. Instead...

“He has put a wife in the grave already.” It is the only thing you know about him. Not much is whispered about Cregan Stark, at least, nothing concerning. You would remember it. The only thing that you know, though, is that he is a Stark and his wife is dead.

“You make it sound as if he killed her himself with his bare hands.” Jace scoffs. “I assure you, he dearly loved Arra Norrey and would have never harmed her. You know the dangers of childbirth. Perhaps even better than I.”

Perfect. He hadn’t killed the damn woman, he was just still in love with her. By the Seven, Jace was a fool. You hated being second in anything. Here, at home, you were already second to Jace, and you resented it. Being a twin meant having to share everything, including the love of those around you.

When you married, you had hoped to be the only woman in your husband’s life, not to be compared to a ghost. You had seen exactly how that went. King Viserys had never forgotten his first wife, calling for her years after her death, even as Alicent was the one to nurse him during his illness.

“He is still a widower.” You repeat, stubbornly.

Jace pinches the bride of his nose, before letting out a deep exhale. His next words are spoken extremely slowly, as if talking to a child. It makes you bristle.

“You said you were afraid of childbirth, and he already has an heir. There is no better solution.”

It would be thoughtful, were it not for the fact that:

“His first wife died in childbirth!”

As Jace prepares a scathing comeback, face scrunched up in mirrored displeasure to your own, the voice of your mother startles you both.

“What is going on here?” She asks, mouth pursed in an expression identical to Jace. The Queen looks as regal as ever, and it only serves to make you feel a tad embarrassed. With wild hair and eyes, face flushed from rage, you are sure that next to her, you must look like a wilding. “Why can the whole castle hear your quarrel?”

“It’s his fault.” You accuse, pointing at Jace.

“My fault?!” He says, placing his hands on his hips. “Apologies, I think they didn’t hear your screeching about Lord Stark in Driftmark!”

“So you informed her?” Your mother asks, calmly. Too calmly for someone who has just found out. Had it been her plan all along?

“Did you knew all along?” You whisper.

Rhaenyra turns to look at you. As always, your mother has a smile ready for you, but as of late, they are laced with sadness. This one is no exception.

“I did. I think it is for the best. You will be safer next to Cregan Stark, in Winterfell, than you could ever be here.”

You examine her expression. Her eyes are swollen and red rimmed, grief clouding her regal face. There is a certain determination in her features, a calm acceptance in her eyes, that tells you that her mind is already made.

Her face is not one of a distraught mother who will soon give her daughter away. You know her too well to mistake it for that.

“You hoped for this.” You keep your voice dangerously low, your anger threatening to bubble up in your throat. “You did because I have no dragon. I bet you are scheming to send Rhaena away too!”

Your mother doesn’t answer.

Her silence is damming. You turn to look at Jace, disbelieving. Of course the two of them had been scheming behind your back. Your brother had always been the closest one to your mother.

“And neither of you could tell me to my face?” You ask, letting out a hysterical laugh. “I had to find out from a letter from fucking Cregan Stark. I am not leaving. You cannot make me. ”

Suddenly, your mother grabs you by the shoulders. Her face is frightening, like an avenging goddess of Old Valyria. Her lips are curled back, teeth bared, and her eyes are as wild as yours.

“Listen to me!” She says, shaking you hard. Tears begin to fall from her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to register them. “Listen to me! Luke is dead. He is dead, and you will obey me because I cannot bear to lose any more of my children. You are going North. Your Queen commands it.”

She turns on her heel and leaves, leaving you standing on still shaking legs.

CREGAN HAD BEEN lingering near the entrance of Winterfell ever since his men had spotted the Queen’s banner on the horizon. Back then, they had expected the party to arrive in half a day. He didn’t care if he appeared too eager, his usual stoicism was failing him in the face of his nerves.

The first time Cregan had married, he had known the bride for a long time. Arra had been his childhood companion, and they had spent many moons together, playing Come-into-my-castle and Bears-and-maids. Cregan had unfortunately been the maid many more times than he preferred.

He had not feared marriage then. Spending forever chained to another person wouldn’t be so bad if that person was Arra.

Now, he did. Cregan had been content on his own, and had no desire to remarry. Even if he had, a southron princess wouldn’t have been his first choice. Though Prince Jacaerys had been honorable and dutiful, he was still naive. They were nearly of an age, but when Cregan had stood next to him, he had felt as old as his Greybeards.

A naive little princess would never survive in the North. His lords would eat her alive. The Lady of Winterfell couldn’t be some frail little thing, she had to be strong. Strong enough to hold Winterfell in his absence if needed, were the threat from beyond the Wall come to pass.

Arra had been the only woman he had thought of marrying because she had been the only woman he had thought fit to the task. She had been of the North, as he was, and it had helped him envision a future together where they ruled over the very same land that had birthed both of them.

It was only adequate that the Lady of Winterfell was a woman of the North. Southron Princesses, especially those who had been groomed to marry inside the family, could be of little help running a keep. If he had to remarry and choose a southron, Cregan would have preferred a stronger one.

Yet if wishes were dragons, beggars would soar through the skies. Prince Jacaerys had seemed a bit insulted at his offer of Greybeards, but with winter coming, it was all Cregan could spare. He was no stranger to political games, though, and knew he had to smooth down the feathers his offer had ruffled.

Hence, the offer. To receive the toothless dragon in his home and keep it safe. A favor, from an older brother to another. The Gods knew if Sara was near war at all, Cregan would do everything in his power to send her somewhere safe. He would be forever indebted to the man who aided him to do so.

And Prince Jacaerys, showing himself to be the dutiful prince and brother he was, had understood the offer for what it was. A true alliance. A Pact of Ice and Fire, to bound their bloodlines and keep the beloved, but defenseless sister safe.

It had impressed Cregan. Jacaerys was a serious man, no matter his dubious parentage. He could picture himself following him. After all, his Targaryen blood and character were the important part. That was what made him a worthy King.

Without a dragon of your own, your journey had been perilous. He knew you had ridden without banners until you had safely arrived into northern territory, a feat that had taken you a whole moon. Cregan had offered to have his men meet you halfway, but his letter doing so had gone unanswered. It had only prompted new anxieties for him.

What if he failed to fulfill his promise because you were abducted or harmed in the journey? What if the people riding with Black banners weren’t truly your honor guard, but an ambush prepared by the enemy?

Cregan doubted he would be at ease until he saw you emerge out of your wheelhouse, whole and unscathed. Hence, his waiting by the door. He would not be nervous a moment longer than he needed to.

The first thing Cregan saw was that your honor guard was smaller than he expected. He had known you would travel with a sparse escort, as to not attract undue attention. It was a miracle you had made it here with only ten guards, though. The wheelhouse and the men carried so many packages that Cregan would have known you were a Princess even without expecting you. Anyone would have known.

In contrast, the woman who stepped out of the wheelhouse wasn’t miraculous nor was she what Cregan envisioned when thinking of a Princess.

You were… Pitiful. Cregan understood now why Prince Jacaerys was so desperate to protect you. You wouldn’t survive a winter in the North, hells, it looked like a strong breeze would blow you away.

Your hair and eyes were as dark as the ones of your brother. You wore a pretty wool dress, in mourning black. The lacings on the back were done too tightly, a lot of the ribbon hanging limply, and the dress was loose around your chest and hips. It was clear you had recently lost weight, probably during the journey because the gown hadn’t been altered to fit you.

There were dark circles under your eyes, which were also red rimmed. Your skin was pale, your dark hair braided back in a severe style. Grief didn’t suit you. You looked small and sad, despite having a pleasing figure.

It didn’t help that the dress you had chosen was one far too thin for a sensible northern woman to wear. The day wasn’t even that cold, but you were already shivering. It was barely snowing, for the Gods’s sake!

Cregan approached you and gave you a bow.

“Princess.” He extended his arm to you. You took it, shivering. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

“Pleasant enough.” At least your voice isn’t frail. The last thing Cregan needed was a soft-spoken southron lady. You even manage to smile at him, which makes you look considerably more attractive.

Cregan would admit one thing, and one thing only: Queen Rhaenyra made pretty children. Both you and Jacaerys had sinful mouths and bewitching dark eyes, though he found yours far more pleasing.

“I am sorry for your loss.” He says, as he escorts you inside Winterfell. Your trembling intensifies, instead of subsiding in the warmth of his hall. You say nothing.

When he risks a glance at your face, your eyes are suspiciously wet. You avoid meeting his eyes, even as he offers you the customary salt and bread.

“I remember when Arra got here.” Cregan offers, awkwardly. He isn’t quite sure of what to say to a grieving Princess, so he decides to share something about himself in hopes that you will open up too. He desperately needs to change the subject. Or to start a subject. He is not picky, anything that keeps you from crying will do. “She brought less of a procession than you did. And less luggage.”

“She was quite closer to home than I.” You reply, and your tone has regained strength. You no longer shake, body stiffer. Cregan decides to take it as a good sign. You are clearly struggling to get a hold of yourself, which is why you turn so tense, so he decides to keep speaking to give you some more time.

“She was. By far a more practical woman.” He smiles at you, teasingly. “But if the fuss makes you happy…”

You laugh. When he gets to know you better, Cregan will realize that your laughter wasn’t genuine.

He will also realize this had been the moment your heart iced over.

YOU PAGE THROUGH your book, in silence. Winterfell doesn’t have court musicians, and for that, you are thankful. Silence has always been your preferred companion right before bed. That, and a good book.

Your obsession with Valyrian history and traditions had been carefully nurtured by your stepfather, Daemon. Neither your mother nor siblings had much interest in your shared heritage, beyond the ability it gave them to ride dragons.

While Baela and Rhaena spoke fluid High Valyrian, the same could not be said for your brothers. As the only girl in the household, your lessons had been spent with the former and not the latter, forcing you to improve. Once you did, you had found reading the tales of old was a pleasant pastime.

You enjoyed laying in bed and imagining all the stories about magic, dragons, and empresses. When you had turned four and ten, Daemon had gifted you your very own book with Valyrian tales, a beautifully bound and illustrated edition that had followed you in your journey North.

“For you to read to your future children.” He had said, back then. You had barely flowered, so you had laughed. “I mean it, Princess. Out of my three girls, you are the only one I envision doing so.”

The day he had acknowledged you as one of his daughters, even if you didn’t share blood, was the happiest nameday you had had. He was right, too. As much as you loved the twins, you couldn’t picture them being motherly. Baela would have to have a son, to inherit after Jace, but you believed that it would be him who took charge of the more fatherly duties while she dedicated herself to statecraft. Rhaena, instead, had a thirst for adventure, to travel and know the world. Her ambition wasn’t conducive to motherhood either.

You, instead, had always dreamed of marrying a man who loved you and starting a family of your own. You envisioned yourself as the lady of a great keep, where you would rule fairly, and raise your children without wet nurses.

Those dreams had already been shattered. The man you had married didn’t love you. He had only done so to secure an alliance. And the man already had a child of his own, an heir. There was no need for you to be a mother anymore.

You turned another page of your book, watching the beautiful illustrations. You had dreamed of reading this to a little girl who looked like you, or perhaps a boy that would have looked like the man of your dreams. They would have learned High Valyrian, and spoke it as beautifully as your mother and stepfather did.

It would not come to pass. Not any longer.

A soft knock on your door makes you set down your book, closing it with great care. Then, you get up and put on your robe over your sleeping shift.

“You may enter.”

Your husband steps in, dressed for bed already. He is a handsome man, you think, biting your lower lip. Tall, dark and handsome, Cregan is the sort of man your childhood self would have pictured marrying.

He could have been the perfect man to fall in love with, were it not for the fact that he would never love you back. He already loved someone else, someone who you could never aspire to match. His first wife, Lady Arra.

As Alicent had learned, it was impossible to overshadow a ghost. Dead as she was, she could never make mistakes. He would forget all her imperfections.

She gave him a child, she was the wife he chose. The one he married for love, not duty. A practical, northern woman his bannermen had surely liked far more as a match to him than a soft southron princess who didn’t even have a dragon.

“I was wondering if you would welcome my company tonight, Princess.” Your husband says, voice emotionless. He is only here because of duty, it seems. “We could share the bed.”

“You said we could wait to consummate our union.” You keep your voice firm. It is not a task you anticipate eagerly, but you are not afraid of it either. You had seen enough of your mother and Daemon to know bedding someone can be pleasing. It is only the awkwardness of doing so with a stranger that puts you off.

“I was not referring to that.” Your husband says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “The nights are cold in Winterfell. Is it wrong for a man to seek closeness to his wife?”

You frown. His behavior is most puzzling. He intends to share your bed… To sleep? Your mother shared her bed with Daemon, but she also bedded him. It makes no sense to you that he wants to sleep next to you without touching you. Most marriages don’t do that. Much less if they are political matches.

“It is not a sin. But why would you..?” You question, but your Lord Husband is getting up already, huffing. He seems angered that you are unable to understand his message, whatever it might be. He storms off, leaving you confused over his behaviour.

That night, Cregan dreams of running. Of having a snout covered in blood, of jumping into the river, trying to trap a seahorse.

He never manages to. Wolves aren’t meant to hunt seahorses.

[gingernut1314]

Just Trying To Sleep

Summary: You never seem to like sleep but with Luffy there, sleep isn't so scary.

Content: gender-neutral reader, Luffy being a love bug as usual, set on the Thousand Sunny, Sanji mentioned

Word Count: 880+

A/N: Cause I will never and can never get enough of love bug Luffy like he's too good SOB like can I just get one hug from him? Please? I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

The deck of the Thousand Sunny was quiet. 

A rare occasion when the crew you belong a part of was as rowdy and chaotic as they came. 

Night had fallen on this part of the Grand Line, and though your crew members were not quiet sleepers, their rooms lay on the other side of the Sunny, leaving you in the silence of night. Silence only broken up by the dark waters below lapping at the hull of the ship. 

You’d been a part of Luffy’s crew for a long while now. They were your family. Your comfort but nights never ceased in being a battle for you. 

You were used to it. It was a battle you had waged since you were little. Though now you had company here and there, joining Robin in her own sleepless nights in the library. Tonight, though, she had found sleep it seemed. 

You were happy for her. Very much so but…it left you alone in your discomfort.

You hugged your knees a bit tighter from where you sat at the stern of the ship, peeking out at the sea through the white rungs of the railing. 

Your eyes burned in exhaustion, body feeling all too heavy.

All you wanted was to sleep, but every time you closed your eyes, shadows came to haunt you. 

So you kept them trained on the sea. On the moonlight shimmering over it’s waves and the occasional sea creature poking its head upward. 

Waves lapped at the hull. 

The ship rocked like a mother would her child’s crib.

Your eyes blurred. 

Eyelids dipped and rose. Dipped and rose. Dipped--

Something landed beside you, startling you from your wearily found sleep. Something that giggled impishly at you. 

“Whatcha doin’?” The warm sound of your captain's voice filled your ears. You rolled your head to the side, letting your cheek rest on your knees as you gazed up at Luffy. He grinned widely down at you, eyes trained on you and you alone. 

“Just trying to sleep.” You murmured. “What are you doing?” Luffy was quick to kneel beside you, leaning in so close his nose was brushing against yours. You couldn’t help the small tug your lips gave at his closeness. 

“Got hungry.” The quietness of his voice wasn’t all too quiet. Maybe two notches turned down from its typical volume. You didn’t mind. It kept your brain full and occupied and away from the shadows plaguing you. 

“Oh? And did you wake Sanji up for a snack?” Luffy’s eyes glanced away from you, lips puckering tightly. 

“...yes.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his truly horrible lying skills. It was adorable. 

“Sanji’ll kill you, you know,” Luffy whined, fingers grabbing hold of the sleeve of your pjs and giving it a small tug. 

“But he’s so grumpy when he wakes up.” You gave a small huff in agreement. Sanji was a monster if woken by someone other than the sun or an alarm. Many who tried received a swift kick to the head.

“We can say it was both of us. Maybe he’ll go easy on you then.” You said in amusement. Luffy huffed, all but smacking his forehead into yours, the motion knocking his straw hat from his head. 

“Okay.” He groaned pitifully, big old puppy dog eyes gazing straight into yours. 

You smiled, letting one of your arms slip from around your legs to snake its way around Luffy. Your captain was quick to scoot closer, face moving from your forehead to bury itself in the crook between your knees and chest. His own arms wrapped around you, pressing you tightly against him.

Your eyes began their tedious dip and rise all over again as Luffy’s warmth seeped through you to the very bone. You moved sluggishly to rest your cheek against his head, wild black hair tickling at your skin.

Dip and rise. Dip and rise. Dip--

“...are you okay?” Luffy’s voice had you lulling your eyes open once more, lips pulling into a sad little frown.

“I’m…I just don’t like to sleep I guess.” You responded, fingertips pressing into Luffy’s warm skin. “Being alone like that…scares me.” Luffy snuggled deeper into you. Held you just a bit tighter. 

“I don’t want you to be scared.” You nodded into his hair. 

“Me too.” His hands began to make soothing circles into your back. Circles that made the heaviness of your eyes and body feel unbearable to keep at bay.

“Can I help?” You nodded again.

“Stay with me? Till morning? Please?” As soon as the last words left your mouth, Luffy was plopping to sit down. His strong but gentle arms moved you around so that your side was pressed against his chest. Legs and arms wrapped around you, keeping you curled up in his warmth and musky scent. 

Keeping you safe. 

Your eyes burned in something other than your exhaustion. 

You grabbed hold of one of his hands he had stretched to allow the hold. Held it like a lifeline as sleep called to you once more. 

“I love you.” You whispered to your captain, who responded with a firm yet tender kiss on the top of your head. 

“I love you too.” He beamed, giving you a few more kisses before nuzzling his face down to rest next to yours.

More Like This: Demons and Claws {Zoro x gn!reader} ⋆ Couldn't Sleep? {Robin x gn!reader} ⋆ How Can I Be Of Service? {Sanji x gn!reader}

[xjcjuis]

JUST TOO MUCH

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

synopsis: na, requested

warnings: one swear word, comfort fluff, menstruation, mentions in passing of v*mit, not proofread

wordcount: 0.8k

a/n: na

if the day hadn't started out shitty enough already, you were in for a horrible ride.

you were lying on your side, head propped up on the armrest of the couch and basically snapping your neck in search of a position comfortable enough to soothe the growing pain in your uterus. your hands press down on a point just below your stomach but it does little to alleviate your discomfort.

you feel like you're about to be sick: there's a headache tingling in the very back of your brain; your throat had closed up in preparation for possible sick; and your body was simply too heavy to move around.

billie sits at your feet on the couch, scrolling through her phone and periodically checking on you every time you let out a groan, which, really, was every two minutes. "you okay, love?" her brows knit in concern when you shift to the other side and curl into a ball. "that bad?"

you nod, however it wasn't visible to her due to you being buried deep beneath a blanket. "i want to stop existing completely."

she laughs softly at that, "well, now. that's a little dramatic of you, isn't it?"

you know she didn't mean anything by it. it's obvious from her light-hearted tone, and the bright smile on her face as she reaches out to softly caress your leg, but your eyes prickle with tears anyway.

for whatever reason your mind had subconsciously decided to take the statement personally, and hot tears roll down your cheeks. and then you were angry for crying over a simple, stupid joke. and then you were annoyed at billie for saying it in the first place, followed by resentment towards yourself for feeling negatively towards your girlfriend over something as small as a joke.

eventually it evolves into a carousel of emotions, each one negative and directed at everything and everyone and yourself. the smile slowly slips off of billie's face, noticing the deafening silence that came after she opened her mouth.

"baby?" no reply, just a quiet sniffle. "are you okay? does it hurt?"

you continue to ignore her, screwing your eyes shut and then blinking them rapidly in an attempt to stop the tears uselessly running down your face. now you were annoyed at that too — adding to the discomfort in your lower region, the side of your face was wet from the pool of tears you'd shed on the seat cushion.

your girlfriend, worried now, stands up, moving closer to gently peel away the blanket from your face and catching a glimpse of your reddened eyes and nose before you yanked the cloth back over you.

"oh, honey, no," she cringes at herself. billie drops to her knees on the floor to be on level with you. "is it what i said? i'm sorry, baby, i forgot how you get."

whoops. she should've phrased that differently. you whine in irritation at her words, causing her to take them back quicker than she'd mindlessly let them go.

"no, that's not what i meant!" billie adds hastily. "everyone's a little down when they're on their cycle and i totally understand. i'm sorry, my love, please forgive me?"

you're turned away from her, but you could hear the pout in her voice. you knew she was beating herself up for her fumble in her head, and you hated that, but even though the more intense of the negative emotions had gone away, you weren't quite ready to be all touchy and lovey-dovey.

oh, but how quickly you retract that thought when you feel a soft pair of lips pressing onto your temple. a softer hand snakes beneath your blanket to stroke your arm, up and down, rhythmically.

she repeats this pattern for a while.

up stroke. down stroke. kiss. up stroke. down stroke. double kiss.

"you wanna move to the bedroom?" she finally whispers. "my knees are about to be bruised, sweet girl. i want to cuddle you."

you huff, rejecting her, but you couldn't resist her soothing actions and silky words any longer. "fine." your voice is small, trying hard to sound disinterested, but billie's face brightens in triumph. she hooks an arm under your knees and carries you bridal-style to your shared room.

she lays you down gently, ridding herself of her slippers and getting comfortable beside you. billie wraps her arm around your waist, providing the extra heat you need. she pushes herself up to lean over and kiss you shortly on the lips and once more on your forehead before laying back down and cuddling you properly.

"i love you." she mutters in your ear, kissing the space behind your ear.

"mmhmm," you murmur back, words slurring as sleep turns your lids heavy. "love you too..."

as you're set free from the torture of cramps and the ache, billie stands guard, ready to comfort you if need be. and ready to run faster than a track athlete if you ever had any cravings.

[emsdevs]

Bear and Bug pt 2

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE I already love this little au so much so I love that y'all are loving it too! Again I'm more than happy to share my thoughts on Bear and Bug anytime! Enjoy pt 2 :)

Bear and Bug Masterlist

After Jack’s draft, the two of you decided to live up all the time you had left together that summer. Once again, you two were attached at the hip. It was rare to see one of you without the other. You spent your days out on the boat, at the golf course, or finding fun adventures to go on. You spent your nights partying, having game nights, or having a quiet movie night together, relaxing after an eventful day.

Meanwhile, Quinn was pushing down a hurt that he didn’t fully understand. He knew you’d be spending a lot of time with Jack this summer (he was your best friend after all), so why did he feel like he was being left behind? Was he just some sort of stand-in for when Jack wasn’t available? No. No way. You would never do that. You cared about the entire Hughes family way too much for that, so why didn’t that lift the heavy weight he was feeling in his stomach? Quinn spent those weeks growing more and more irritated each day, watching you and Jack having the time of your lives while he wondered where he stood with you. 

As the end of the summer neared and you would all have to return to the real world soon, your time with Jack instead became family time. Everyone deserved to spend time with Jack before he boarded a flight to New Jersey until the next summer. However, moments that should have been filled with happy family memories were ruined by Quinn’s sudden sharpness toward no one in particular. He had become incredibly snippy with everyone, mainly you, causing many arguments between the two of you in those last two weeks. 

You couldn’t understand it. The two of you had been so close, and you felt like there might have been something between you. Now all of a sudden, he was throwing insults at you that genuinely hurt your feelings a few times. It got to be too much, and you gave up, ignoring Quinn altogether. It hurt you to do it, but it felt like your only option. Everyone could sense the tension between the two of you. 

The summer ended with heartfelt goodbyes to most of the Hughes family. Gentle hugs for Ellen and Jim, and since Luke was apparently too cool for that now, he got a dap up and his hair ruffled (you couldn’t resist). You and Jack shared a longer hug, filled with encouragement for both of your life paths and promises to keep each other updated until June. Quinn, on the other hand, got an incredibly awkward wave from five feet away, complete with terribly hidden grimaces from the rest of the family. 

You all returned to your normal lives after that. Well, mostly normal. Jack was adjusting to the big leagues, and you’re feeling like you’re going through a breakup, even though you and Quinn were never even together. Still, it seems like such a great loss knowing how long the two of you have known one another. 

It was nearing the end of October the next time you saw Quinn. The Canucks had beaten the Red Wings in Detroit that night, and knowing there wouldn’t be practice the next day, Quinn knew this was his chance to close the distance between you. Late that night, he found himself standing outside of your dorm, remembering his mom saying something about you scoring the same one as last year. Before he could think too much about it, he knocked. Just as he began to debate walking away, the door slowly opened, revealing a very confused, and equally as angry, you. Quickly glancing around to check if anyone would see, you yank him into your dorm, grateful your roommate was at her boyfriend’s place that night. 

“Quinn, what are you doing here?” you sigh out.

“I needed to talk to you, Bug.”

“Oh, we’re still doing the nicknames? You were horrible to me those last few weeks of the summer,” you could feel the anger flaring up.

“Well maybe if you didn’t spend your whole summer kissing up to Jack, the rest of us could have been in better moods,” he shrugged, beginning to raise his voice as well. 

“You were the only one with a problem! And there’s no way you didn’t expect me to spend my summer with Jack when we all knew I’d be losing him to New Jersey in August!”

“Of course I knew you’d spend time with him! Excuse me for thinking you’d save some time for the rest of us too!” Quinn’s resolve was slipping, and he knew the truth would come out sooner rather than later.

“So you said all those mean things to me because you were jealous? Are you serious, Quinn? Do you know how much some of that hurt me?” Quinn could see the tears lining your eyes now.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings,” his voice softened.

“What feelings? What do you mean?” your tone now matched his, and you were trying not to get your hopes up, still blinking back tears.

“You know,” he didn’t want to have to say it out loud.

“I don’t. I need you to tell me, Bear.”

“Look I know I never should have let it get this far, especially since you’re Jack’s best friend and I would never want to come between that, but I can’t help how I feel. You’re so engrained into everything I do now, Bug. Every part of my life, I see you in it. I don’t think you could ever understand what I feel for you, mainly because I’m not sure I do either, but what I do know is that, yes I was jealous of Jack. I was used to talking to you almost daily, to knowing every detail of your life, but summer hit, and suddenly I was in the background,” he took a breath.

“Bear you weren’t -” Quinn cut you off.

“Let me finish,” he waited for your nod. “I got in my own head, let myself think I was just some kind of understudy for when Jack wasn’t available. I know that’s not true, and I even knew that then. But this gnawing feeling wouldn’t go away, telling me that Jack would always be the better or more interesting sibling, whether I was the oldest or not. That’s why I got so snippy with everyone, not that that’s an excuse because no one deserved that, you the least. I just… I just think I might be falling in love with you, Bug, and I’m not sure I know how to handle that,” finally he finished, slowly looking your way, trying to gauge your reaction.

“You know I was waiting all summer for you to say that to me?” you started. “I was hoping you’d pull me aside, tell me that you felt the same way about me that I feel about you. I guess that’s kinda on me though because I did spend a ton of time with Jack, so I understand that you might have felt like I didn’t actually need you or that you wouldn’t have a chance to tell me. Either way, though, I can’t completely look past the way you treated me at the end of the summer. I seriously hope you know none of those things you thought were true. You will always, always be important and interesting, if not to anyone else then to me. I think… I’m falling for you too, Bear, but you’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just need you back,” he let out a shuddered sigh.

“We’ll work on it together. Okay, Bear?”

“Okay, Bug.”

[acehazbin1]

‘Damn, do you play this often?’

NSFW Recruiter x Female Reader

No y/n

Note: sorry if this isn't my usual shit but I got such a crush on him 😭

Summary: The recruiter and reader are playing Ddakji, she likes being slapped a little too much.

Tw: slaps, mouthfucking, blowjobs, degradation and subway station bathroom.

It's no secret that she owes money, it was well-known around the whole town. Not to lend her a single cent was the words whispered by her ‘friends’

So it was not unbelievable when a handsome man in a suit walked up to her holding a briefcase. She was sitting on a beach looking at Blockblast on her phone, her high score was impossible to beat.

“Ahem.” The man let out a staged cough and adjusted his tie. The woman looked up from her phone, he was very attractive and looked wealthy. Maybe her prayers had been answered and a random man would give her a billion.

“Yes?” Her voice was smoother than usual, trying to appear more prettier. Her hair was greasy, she had recently been kicked out of her apartment and she was sleeping from couch to couch so there were not many who wanted her in their shower room. Still, she managed to not smell horrible.

“Do you want to play Ddakji?” it was a simple enough question, but it left her head spinning. Ddakji? The game she used to play as a kid… why? She took our train and realised that there was an hour until hers came, so why not?

“Why not?” She smiled at him, his face inching into confusion for a second. He didn't explain that she would get money for winning. He took his suitcase locks off and opened it up to show Ddakji pieces and 5,000 in cash.

Her eyes widened when she saw how much he had in front of her, she could use that money... “Every time you win, I'll give you 10,000.”

“So, if I just turn yours over I win 10,000?” She whispered thinking it was a dream, now that was more appetising than 5,000 but there must be a catch. “And you will pay me 10,000 if I turn over yours.”

Shit, there was the catch. Did she have 10, 000? Hell no? But if she won one round and lost another then she is fine, but what if she lost both rounds? She swallowed her spit, it was almost painfully obvious she didn't have that money but he enticed her.

“You can go first.”

In a second she was stood over the blue Ddankji holding a red one as she tried to slam it to make it turn over. “Please please work,” she whispered and begged the red one.

His eyes pierced into her, she was ragged and it was obvious she could pay. What would she do if she lost? Cry her way out begging not to be slapped if her voice was using the same tone it is now he might let her get away with it.

She slammed it down, using all her strength to flip it. Yet it didn't work, her stomach dropped as her insides felt like they were turning in. He gently picked up the blue one, slamming it onto the ground and making the red one flip.

Her face went pale as she dug her nails into her arm. “What's wrong?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, she combed a hand through her hair before answering.

“I-” She stopped, she didn't have an answer why was she such a dumbass? Why did she keep on betting when it was costing her life, this guy would probably beat the shit out of her. It was a shame he was hot too. “How about you pay with your body?”

Her eyes went wide, did he mean… That thought was quickly slapped out of her, and he cheek went red. She was in more shock now, when she reached her hand up to feel where he hit. Now both of her cheeks were red, “Damn do you play this often?”

He got a freak again, yet she wasn't that bad-looking and he hadn't had a lot of attention lately since work was letting him recruit people again. So he looked her up and down, “Only when I see someone worthy enough to play it.”

She knew it was a lie, no one would go around with a briefcase full of Ddankji looking for ‘worthy’ people. But she liked his attention.

She played around and round, and again she failed, this time she wasn't trying that hard. He picked up on that immediately, how fucked up in the brain did she have to be to forget the money.

She liked his hair, it was styled perfectly and it just sat there. His whole outfit didn't have a spec of dust on it, he kept himself clean. She was admiring his hand, how cold it was when he slapped her again. This time she held back a smile, it hurt but for some reason she liked it.

“Are you even trying?” His normal taunt was more of a question this time, after her fourth loss. “I am I'm just horrible at the game.” She was quite good at Ddankji she just wanted to look at this man a little bit longer. That's when she got a slap again, before she could recollect herself he slapped the other side.

“That's for lying.” She almost raised her hand to hit him back but she knew better, they were in a subway waiting for the last train all alone. After the fifth game, she finally got the blue to flip over, which he awarded.

He held out a 10,000 bill to her, she needed the money badly yet her mind wasn't thinking straight. “I wanna hit you.” She said.

“We didn't agree on that.” He was a bit taken aback.

“We didn't agree on slapping me at the start.” She countered but he had a solution for it. “That, dear, is because it was a consequence of not being able to pay.”

She ignored his condescending tone and focused on how he said dear. She felt a chill run down her back, “I will wanna hit you.”

“Want to, speak properly.” He retorts, she steps closer and he steps pushing the Ddankji with his foot away. “I want you to hit me.”

She got it wrong, shit. She didn't want to hit him. She just wanted him to feel how she felt, well maybe he would react differently because it was the only thing on her mind. She got the request solved when her face got another red mark.

“Oh fuck.” She whispered.

………

Seconds later she was being dragged to the worst bathroom in Japan, the subway toilets. He pushed her into the men and locked the door, it was full of graffiti and smelt like piss. He couldn't care less and neither could she.

“Kneel.” He demanded watching as she got onto the dirtiest floors just by his command. She was fucking filth. His hand messed with his belt, he unbuckled it and unzipped his pants. She reached up to rub him through be earned another hit across the face. “Did I tell you to do that?” He sat at her.

She shook her head.

“words. I want words.”

She breathed in, “No…”

He then grabbed her chin tilting her face up to him, he spilled his thumb into her mouth. She immediately started to suck in it, making his eyes widen. “Oh you such a fucking slut, is that how bad you want it?”

He grabbed her hand to palm him through his suit pants. His eyes rolled a bit up from the touches, and her hand sneakily pulled down his boxers. Her eyes landed on a massive cock, Jesus it was something. She stopped sucking in his thumb as he pulled it out of her mouth.

“You look at it as if you have never seen one,” He smiled and forced her jaw open. He put his hands on top of her greasy hair, “Make yourself useful for once.”

She started to kitty-lick the tip, which made him groan. “Dont tease,” he spoke through his teeth making her lick up and down his length. She tried to tease again by just sucking the top but his grip forced her down.

She started to choke on his cock, one of her hands tightened around his belt and the other continued to touch herself. “Fuck, you're such a slut.” He groaned and put her head against the wall as he started to thrust into her. She started to gag as he was stopping, his grip was deadly.

“It's like you were made for this,” he groaned out, the closest thing she would probably ever have to praise coming out of his mouth. He kept thrusting into her at his nonstop pace, he put his forehead against the wall.

She felt like she had no air and his size was making her jaw hurt but oddly enough, her pussy was soaked. “Fuck.” She felt a gush of liquid in her mouth after his curse. After a few seconds, he pulled out.

“Open your mouth.”

She opened her mouth showing him the cum on her tongue, he used his finger to closer her mouth. “Swallow.” She never really liked to but she swallowed this time.

He put his dick back into his pants and fixed up his uniform leaving her on the ground. She was still a bit sworn and in shock at what just happened when she felt him press a card to her mouth.

She bit down to hold the card in place as he tucked the 10,000 into her bra. Then left her sitting there.

[furiousgoldfish]

Existence in abuse is riddled with constant guilt and shame – and this is not by accident. All abusers put effort into convincing their victims they deserved it, to prevent resistance, and make them 'ashamed for deserving it', to prevent the word from getting out. If abusers can pinpoint one bad thing you did in your entire life, they will repeat it back to you consistently, amplifying how guilty and ashamed you need to feel about it.

Lacking anything concrete, they will shame you for everyday, small things, and depict them as malevolent crimes. You will hear about how selfish you are, for failing to put someone else's feelings first and even for wanting to do one little thing for yourself, after taking care of everyone else's feelings. You'll hear about how spoiled and inconsiderate you are, if you voice your struggles or problems, when abuser expected of you to only give attention to them. If you dare to call the abuser out in return, the focus will be put on you with so much fury, leading you to find out that this person is enraged by every single thing you ever did. They'll accuse you of not even knowing how much damage you did to them, what they sacrificed for you, what you owe them, what you already took from them (they list something they did without you asking for it).

The repeated treatment of being told off and shamed even for acting in the most normal, or empathetic ways, will lead you to question yourself, your intention, if this is all justified. You'll analyze past situation to see if you could have done better, blaming and shaming yourself for 'mistakes' your abusers are throwing back at your face, when you either didn't know they were bad, or had the kindest intentions in doing as you did. Your own actions will become scrutinized and you will wonder if you in fact, do deserve punishment and hostility for anything you ever did. Even when your standards rise and your behaviour becomes as kind and considerate as possible, it will turn out it's never enough. You're always guilty of something, you must always feel ashamed. You're ignored and neglected and then told off for not paying enough attention to them, you're working all day to please them only to be made feel stupid for thinking this would in fact, please them. You become helpless and desperate for any confirmation that you're a good person, because no matter what you do, it's never good enough, it's always shamed and ostracized.

I remember living in this soup of toxic shame and guilt, too scared to take credit for anything I did, because 'then I only did to get credit', too scared to feel good about anything good I did, because then I did it 'only for the sake of feeling good about myself'. I couldn't win. The abusers around me amplified what a horrible person I was, until I gave in and believed it. After all, if every person around me is confident that I am a wretched monster, then how could I be anything else? I can't be the only one who is right, and all of them wrong. They wouldn't be saying it for no reason, and why would they lie to me. These people love me. They're saying it for my own sake. They're doing it so I would have a chance to become better.

This is how they prefer you to think; you must stay focused on your own faults, and boil in shame until you're too scared of doing anything, and refuse credit for things you do, so someone else can take it. There's one very convenient feature to this brainwashing; you are not allowed to focus on what anyone else is doing.

You can't be scrutinizing your abuser's actions, or comparing them to your own, because that will make them mad, and they'll explode calling you derisive and insulting names, and you will get triggered and crushed. You can't point out their hypocrisy when they're apparently 'trying to make you a better person', when they themselves are not even trying to be good, because again, this makes them mad, and is too dangerous for you. You have to focus on yourself while also putting yourself in a world where nobody else's actions are scrutanizable or accountable, only you need to be perfect, only you need to be guilty and ashamed of everything you do; everyone else can do whatever, and you better pretend you didn't see it. Phrases like 'look at yourself before you look at others' might be thrown at you to make you ashamed for even looking at other people's actions critically.

I too was afraid to compare myself to others people, constantly keeping in mind the regular excuses. 'These people had it rough, they have reasons for doing what they did, they're struggling with guilt too and would be crushed if it was ever pointed out to them what damage they're doing, they don't know how much hurt they're causing, they were never taught better, I can't judge, I can't hold them accountable. They wouldn't be able to stand it'.

All of these excuses, of course, were not applicable to me; I had to know what I was doing, I had to take responsibility for everything I did or didn't do, I had to be strong enough to withstand the guilt and shame, but others could live instantly absolved and asking them to feel guilty was just too cruel.

I wasn't able to escape this worldview while I lived with abusers, because the constant stream of guilt trips and shaming was pushing me back, but once I escaped, I allowed myself to take a look at how other people live, what they do and say, and what they feel ashamed for. To my surprise, even the slightest scrutiny revealed that people I lived around did numerous crimes to their own children, neighbours, to the world in general, they felt comfortable lying, manipulating, using, exploiting and gaslighting others; they felt justified to invent any kind of story that shows them in a good light while hiding atrocious amount of cruelty and lies. If I was to do any kind of comparison, it became obvious that by any moral standards – I was better than all of these people. Easily. I never did any of that shit, and considered other people's well being meticulously before deciding on my every move. For all of them, other people's well being wasn't even an afterthought, it was something they actively attacked and mutilated. As long as they could get away with it, as long as no consequences followed.

Finding this out, I was mortified to know that these were the people who had the nerve to shame me for my behaviour. People who never cared about anyone in their entire life said to my face that I was selfish and inconsiderate for not caring about them enough. Outrageous. People who reached for violence to get their way were getting mad at me for not guessing what would please them good enough on a certain day. What inverted hell is that.

After a lot of anger and objective scrutiny of actions of people I lived with, I was able to conclude that I lived with garbage. These folks has no humanity in them, they were only parasites, and they had me thinking I was somehow worse than all of them, and that my normal and humane actions were in fact, worse than their cruelest crimes. That is one skill that all abusers train themselves in; making other people feel worse about themselves. It's a tactic of abuse that often comes so aggressively that people become too shocked and scared to counter it, it takes an abnormally cruel and self-justified person to reach for it. They consistently get away with it. People will learn they're not allowed to think badly of them, before they even get to judge or scrutinize their behaviour.

While you're living with abusers, some of their suspicious actions and evasive tactics will not make any sense; so write it down, and remember it for later. Once you find out what they've been up to, what they were trying to get away with, what they've been lying about, what they were doing in secret – you will become able to see both them and yourself more clearly. Yes they can confidently lie to you about who you are, not because they think they're right, but because they're trying to convince you of it. If they truly thought you were the worst of them, you'd be celebrated.

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Breaking the Silence, posted by Neil Gaiman at 10:20 AM (1/14/25)

I haven't had a chance to process this yet, but NG has posted on his website:

Text below the cut if you don't want to follow the link (And a reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways):

"Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something.

As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever. 

I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides.

And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's.

I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel. 

Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers.

At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone.

Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do."

Here's information about yesterday's article, which he's responding to:

And another reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways.

[lightpurenillarp]

Mini fic of this AU!!

…

..

.

Pure Vanilla awoke to a sunny day on earthbread.. usually, he’d feel content and ready to start the day, but today he barely wanted to get out of bed.

Now that all the drama with Shadow Milk and the beasts was out the window, Vanilla felt extremely drained most of the time…

He sat up, getting out of bed.

The Vanilla Palace felt colder than usual.. Vanilla sighed, “Hmm… I guess I should get ready for the day..”

He walked into the restroom, looking in the mirror.

A sharp pain stabbed at his head. Why? he had no clue..

His breathing quickened and he looked back in the mirror and saw his reflection, except it wasn’t him.. It couldn’t have been..

No, the man he saw in the mirror was his tormentor, smiling at his panicked face..

He blinked and all he saw was himself, yet again. That horrible presence was gone, that terrifying smile had vanished, his fear was embedded in his soul, however.

He was way too lazy to fully get ready for the day, he just splashed his face with water, looking at himself again.

…What happened to me..? he thought to himself, staring at his soaked face.

He grabbed his towel and dried his face.

He just snatched his toothbrush and swiftly brushed his teeth.

He didn’t feel like putting on his usual outfit, so he just put on some casual clothes.

(A bit like this… 👇🏽)

Pure Vanilla didn’t feel like eating anything, so he just walked downstairs to the door.

His steps were quick and uneasy, he felt like his day was going to go wrong, like it was all going to fall apart.

His hand stopped moments away from touching the door knob.

…Should I go outside..? Would something terrible happen if I do..? He thought, he’s been through way too much not to be absolutely careful.

In the end, he decided, fuck it. He’s going back to bed.

Though, Pure Vanilla did feel bad considering that he had plans with Cacao and Lily..

As he was walking back up to his bedroom, he noticed that something was off..

He noticed very quiet laughter, just echoing around him..

It got louder the more he heard it, and he recognized just who that laughter belonged to.

“Hello, Silly Vanilly~!!” Shadow Milk cookie said, appearing right next to him. “T’is I, your all time FAVORITE entertainer!!”

Shadow Milk’s gaze made Pure Vanilla shiver.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t hear a thing that Shadow Milk was saying..

He just stared..

His breathing started to get erratic..

He was overcome with a certain emotion, not fear, not happiness, but anger..

Before he knew it, he punched Shadow Milk.

Like, he sent Shadow Milk cookie FLYING down the stairs.

The blue cookie just arose from where he fell, just looking at Pure Vanilla.

“What the hell was that for???” Shadow Milk questioned, “I didn’t do anything! (yet..!)”

Pure Vanilla just glared at him. “Why the hell are you back?? To mess with me again??? To make my life a living HELL???” Though, while Shadow Milk was looking at Pure Vanilla, his eyes started to grow wide.

“Oh.. My.. Goodness..” Shadow Milk’s lips curled upward into that same mocking smile. “Little Vanilly is starting to become corrupted???”

“What are you talking about..?” Pure Vanilla asked, accidentally letting his guard down due to being confused.

“I was just here to spy and stuff, but my goodness, I might just stick around…”

Then, all Pure Vanilla could hear was fading laughter as the image of Shadow Milk slowly faded.

.

..

…

This mini fic was to give my friends an idea abt what the beginning of our au should be :3

Tell me if y’all want part two, though!!

[floorgazing]

the surprise he's feeling doesn't end at him not getting smacked away, nor at niko presenting with this... almost muted anger, so dejected and worn down that he knows he's hurt him badly, worse than he originally clocked; so much worse than he'd hoped. niko's more than he seems, more than he lets anyone believe he is, tenderer in the heart than that mask he wears allows him to be — drago knew that, drago knew he'd brave face to some degree, he'd just hoped that his impact wouldn't be quite so strong. in a sick way, hoped that the love on his end was somehow less, for his sake. he knew it wasn't, though. what truly surprises him is the present tense in what he says last — an ask for the future? at least tell me if you're going to, meaning he'd have the opportunity to leave? meaning he'd be let back in. cold digits still wrapped around his wrist, drago moves his hand delicately, his fingers slotting between niko's and squeezing tight. he'll not let him go again, not if niko's allowing him the chance to hold on.

his free hand doesn't go for the one flying around — he lets niko feel what he's going to feel, lets him express it how he's going to express it, but his free hand extends to press his palm flat against niko's heart. it's meant to ground the both of them. thumb, gently caressing the skin there, exposed by the dip in his tank top. "i do know you freaked out, too. i know it hurt." that's the main thing he needs to say — before he gets into explanations, that is, but those feel like excuses. shame coats his throat, makes it difficult to get this next part out. drago keeps a steady motion of his thumb against niko's skin, warm. flush. "i don't remember doing it." it feels like too simple of a statement, too... convenient of one, not believable. he knows he has to say more, knows he has to not look like he's unraveling, but his expression is remarkably strange as he's talking — like he doesn't know how he feels. the truth is, he's still coming out of it. whatever it is. "leaving. i don't remember leaving. i wouldn't have left you intentionally." he doesn't add a without a goodbye here, because the truth is, he wouldn't have left at all, had he been in his right mind. yes, seeing niko hurt was torturous. yes, the nightmares were, too. the anxiety. the knowing he'd die. but that didn't trump the love — the undying dedication, the agreement that'd already made with himself that he'd watch this man grow old. crazy, maybe, to say about someone he isn't even officially with, but he's never claimed not to be. that's kind of the whole problem, isn't it?

the palm flat on niko's chest moves up, slow, up to his collar, up his neck until he's passing his jaw, cradling his cheek in his hand, and now his thumb is pressing into his cheek and he's looking into his eyes, and he's pulling his lips into a regretful grimace. "there's something very wrong with me," he explains, and it feels like he's saying it in slow-motion, verbalizing something that he just hasn't before. he doesn't want to feed niko some kind of bullshit, but, that statement is the truth. there is something horribly broken inside of him. "i don't..." this is where his gaze falls, shifts away to cling to something else, to a tool on a bench, but he doesn't stop holding niko's hand, cupping his face. his jaw clenches, throat constricts, teeth clench down. "it sounds fucking insane. it is — it is insane," his eyes widen, tearful, emphasis hugging that second it is; the words are stressed, urgent. it's here that his gaze flickers back, uncharacteristically nervous, searching niko's face for any sign of frustration, any sign that there isn't a case to plead here. he wishes it was an easier thing to explain, but he doesn't think there's a scientific, medical way to tell someone what it is that happens. "sometimes, it's like there's two of me. i stopped being me, i started being him. you got hurt, and... all these memories came flooding back and i could not pick apart what was real and current. i ignored it, for a while. i thought i could ignore it. but... earlier, i slept, i woke up, i was looking at my phone, and all the calls, all the texts. it's like i realized today what had happened. that i wasn't with you. sometimes, i did think you were with me?" the last statement sounds confused, because he is confused, still. his eyes close suddenly, head shakes. "...i don't know. i really don't."

── niko doesn't smack him away, which is the first sign that he's hurt. not frustrated, not angry (though he is both of those, too), and not sad; hurt. drago's hand reaches for him and he stays still, arm willingly limp as fingers lock around his wrist and pull it forward, closer, making the now-short distance between them a reality. and it isn't that niko thought drago had disappeared for good ─ he has enough experience with people ditching him and then popping up again on their own schedule, their own time, regardless of him. in this case it's worse, though, because rather than being regardless of him, the running away was instead because of him, and he's all too aware of that fact as drago's voice softens, as the vampire's head tips forward trying to earn his gaze. and he does; niko swallows and shifts his neck backward, eyes lifting. there's an unfamiliar lump in the base of his throat that he's already feeling vitriol towards and so swallows, hard. "and i fucking... i get that." he doesn't return the hold on his wrist still refrains from pulling back, either, instead using his free hand to wave through the air. "you freaked out, you got scared or whatever, i get it. like, obviously i get it." the self-assigned king of backing out, of not committing, of bolting. "but you can't do that shit. i can't do that shit─ you think i didn't freak out when you were gone outta nowhere and started dodgin' my calls?" his head shakes, erratic, because he's never been here before. not with a fling, a boyfriend, a whatever-the-fuck he and drago were. are? "at least tell me if you're gonna fuck off. don't be a coward." a last-ditch effort at deflecting some of the hurt he's harboring as an insult.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[garlic-and-vanilla]

This ask is in your inbox because my brain has apparently chosen to title you as The Illithid Understander and I feel like you might have interesting thoughts to contribute to this topic (please don’t feel obligated to respond tho!)

When I played through bg3 for the first time, what really stood out to me about the Emperor as a character was that he is full of ambiguity. Many of the questions about him, on both a personal level and on a broader level as an illithid, simply do not have concrete answers in canon. I thought that it was so neat how the writers enshrined a vessel for open dialogue regarding some of the biggest themes and questions of the game/story in a character. I thought the whole point of the Emperor’s character is that there’s no One Right Answer about: its intentions, its morality, how much it still is or isn’t Balduran, how much it is or isn’t a monster, why it cares so much about the PC, if it made the right choices, etc.

Which is why I was utterly shocked to find out that SO many people played the game and just… unquestioningly seemed to think that many of those aspects had concrete answers. That this character that, to me, was defined by ambiguity, had been determined by so many to simply be Evil.

I have my own theories about each of the questions/ambiguities listed above, of course, based on my interpretation of canon. But I see them as just that, theories and interpretation. Maybe my perception of the Emperor as a bunch of unanswered questions is just an interpretation, too, but then what was the writers’ intent? (Did my success in high school English classes make me overly confident in narrative comprehension? Lol)

I’ve read many an interesting take on the Emperor on tumblr and ao3 that seem to vibe generally with the whole It’s Supposed to Be Ambiguous thing, and I’d love to hear your take.

First of all this is so funny and I am so honored to be The Illithid Understander lmao.

Second I am very sorry I haven’t answered this sooner. Alas I am not used to ever receiving asks and just now realized I even have one. And what a wonderful message!!!

Honestly I think you fuckin nailed it my man. In a game that spends so much time and energy asking the player to think about questions like “what does it take to be a monster,” “what aspects cause a person to become monstrous,” and “when does it become worth it to become a monster” the Emperor is the ultimate answer. The non-answer. His character embodies all the questions the game wants to ask, and then doesn’t answer any of them for you.

The game shows you characters and says “this is a monster.” Ketheric Thorm is a monster, and Orin and Gortash, despite how sympathetic their backstories and motivations might be. It shows you cycles of abuse, manipulation, cult mentality, and indoctrination. The power of grief, love, fear, and ambition to lead people down monstrous paths even as they think they’re doing the right thing, or the only thing.

You as the player character directly help your companions navigate these themes. You see how they’re affected, how they struggle, what they might become if they choose to give in, and what they become if they don’t.

Do they become monsters? Do you let them? Do you encourage them?

The game shows you clearly what monsters are, and waits to see if you’ll become one yourself.

Withers asks you, “Do illithids have souls?”

He claims they don’t, initially, but that story is contradicted the moment he meets the Emperor in the High Hall, and when you meet him after undergoing ceremorphosis yourself. There’s also lore out there that says illithids do have souls— non-apostolic ones.

So far as the game is concerned, I’m not sure there’s supposed to be a solid answer to that question. I think— like you do— that it’s supposed to be ambiguous. He is not a character the game points to and says “here is a monster.”

I agree with you wholeheartedly that the Emperor is made of ambiguity. The lack of answers are my favorite thing about him. He’s a mass of unanswered questions that you look at and see the themes of the story inside.

Is the Emperor a monster just for being a mind flayer?

Is he a monster because he came to embrace the power his illithid nature brought him?

Because a friend turned on him, claimed he was lost, and he killed them in self-defense?

Because he dominated Stelmane, a situation we have no context for?

How much of his behavior is genuine? How much of Balduran remains, and how much is illithid? Does he even know himself? Does it matter?

He’s a big mystery. We simply do not know everything about his past. We don’t know how much of his behavior is real, or an act. We have to make the deliberate decision to take him at his word, or not. To trust him, or not. To love him, or not. All of this complicated by the reality that his mind and experience are alien to us (a whole other post by itself).

Ultimately, there are no answers except what we come to decide about him for ourselves.

Some people have decided that he’s evil, for various reasons, and sure, that’s certainly a way to answer the question. To end the ambiguity by deciding the Emperor is, after all, a simple monster.

But isn’t it so, so much more interesting if he isn’t?

[hoofpeet]

perpetually suffering the tortures lately

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Frame switching when you're speaking other languages is such a thing because:

English (native): Swears like a sailor (actually, a sailor is more cleaned up). Dry, sarcastic, sardonic humor

Spanish (second language): 🤓🤓🤓

Hebrew (third language): What is a swear word? What is sarcasm? I have become nice jewish boy.

Italian (fourth language): My Italian ancestors have possessed me. Mambo Italiano is the energy of the night

[mistyycowoa]

Confessing my sins to the internet because my irl friends don't know my tumblr

I'm actually a horrible friend and I don't plan to change :)

I'll be a good friend to anyone I actually like and I usually don't associate with people who I don't like, but sometimes there will be an occasional lonely (usually annoying) kid that follows me around. (They're lonely for a reason.) I kinda hate people who are loud literally all the time but I can hold my tongue and this kinda person just doesn't leave because they're not being told directly to leave.

What do I do? I talk to them only when I need them, I make unnecessarily mean comments as a joke, I point out their obvious flaws that I know they have a hard time changing, and all while they still follow me around like I'm not kinda bullying them.

Sometimes I'll treat them like an actual friend when I'm in a good mood, but if I'm not, then the unfortunate victim becomes my emotional punching bag. (I have ways to quickly fix my mood and this is completely unnecessary and I could distance myself until I feel better like how I do with actual friends.) I think this is like. Breadcrumbing? Anyways yeah, toxic shit.

If any of your "friends" treat you like this, they don't see you as a friend. If they leave you doubting if they like you or not, leave you doubting if you're actually friends, they probably don't see you as a friend. (because that's the case for me :3 )

I'm a horrible human being and I don't feel nearly as bad as I should about it :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent