#and having people still think she's desirable and wanted and respected even though she's not rail model thin

[pagannatural]

2.20 What Is and What Should Never Be

- the djinn episode. much to think about

-Dean makes a comment on the phone with Sam about a hot actress and Sam says “are you even listening to me?” in this very effeminate way, it’s adorable.

- Dean says he’s going to check out a possible lair and Sam says “wait no no no come pick me up first” all little brother wanting to go along, but Dean hangs up on him. The next shot of Sam holding the disconnected phone and turning his head is taken from above which makes him seem small, indicating that he’s probably feeling worried or left out. He’s afraid what will happen to Dean and he wants to be a part of the hunt.

- Dean gets got by the djinn.

Okay, so in order to analyze any of the characters and events in Dean’s djinn-dream we need to understand what exactly is going on. My interpretation is that, as Dean explains toward the end of the episode, it’s not a perfect fantasy or a representation of Dean’s truest desires. It’s just the djinn picking up on his strongest wish and what he thinks his life would be like were it fulfilled. His wish is that his mom never died in a fire. The whole dream is a product of this wish and what Dean assumes would’ve happened/where the djinn’s magic takes him.

However, this wish-world is flawed because it’s limited by the things Dean is limited by. He can imagine having many of the things he wants, like a girlfriend and a regular job, but his wish isn’t that he could be happy, his wish is that the defining tragedy of his life had never happened and therefore the people he loves the most could be happy. So although he and his mom and Sam are alive and well, there are also a lot of things wrong in the dream. The things that are wrong are therefore very telling:

I think he has an alcohol problem in the dream because he figures that even if things were different he would screw up or not be good enough in some very important ways. Again, it’s just a wish- his beliefs about himself haven’t changed.

John doesn’t make an appearance because Dean can’t really imagine a healthy relationship with him or any version of him at all that doesn’t revolve around hunting.

He and Sam aren’t on good terms because they never hunted together. Dean fears that the only thing that binds Sam to him is their fucked up history. He thinks that if their mom hadn’t died, Sam would’ve had the things that he’s said he wanted: graduated from Stanford, studying law, engaged to a beautiful woman. This is what Dean assumes Sam would’ve become. He assumes they would not be close and that he himself would lowkey be a fuck-up, albeit a fuck-up in a more common way.

So what is the significance? This suggests that Dean believes his relationship with Sam and his place in Sam’s life was only earned through raising him and taking care of him, which he wouldn’t have done if their lives were normal. His self-worth stems from his relationship with Sam and his ability to care for him and love him, so in the dream Dean has the outline of the normal life he wants to want, but he’s also not a person he would respect. Even his djinn-girlfriend tells him (jokingly) she’s with him because she has low standards. He doesn’t have the job he said in s1 that he always wanted, which is being a firefighter. He works in a garage just like his dad did. He doesn’t save people. And most damning of all, he’s ruined his relationship with Sam by letting him down over and over. He’s completely lost himself. So yeah, this is far from a reflection of Dean’s deepest desires.

- Another element that needs unpacking in terms of what exactly is going on in the dream is that Sam has a point of view. Djinn-Sam is still his own character, he’s shown to have thoughts and reactions even when Dean isn’t around or isn’t looking. He has his own point of view even though he exists in Dean’s head. So how is it possible for the version of Sam that exists in Dean’s subconscious to act independently of Dean?

My interpretation is that the characters in the dream are animated by the Djinn’s magic, which has a purpose. Its purpose is to make the dream appealing so that the victim will remain unconscious and happy rather than trying to wake up. This is why, when Dean realizes that he is actually unconscious, the other characters from the dream appear to him to try and convince him not to wake up and to stay with them forever. They have a directive. The characters follow this directive by behaving in ways that Dean both expects and wishes for. I really don’t think they’re the djinn or that they’re nefarious, I think they’re just Dean’s conceptions of the people they represent. They don’t really act out of character, aside from the fact that their purpose is to fulfill Dean’s wish and keep him from waking.

So basically, djinn-Sam is his own character because he’s animated by the djinn’s magic, but all of his thoughts and feelings and behaviors are both what Dean wishes for and what he would expect under the circumstances.

So. Keeping that in mind as we take a look at Djinn-Sam.

-Sam’s response to Dean calling him late at night is to giggle and say “you’re drunk dialing me.” Drunk dialing is very much a trope used to link romantic interests. Also he picks up after the first ring. Sam is eager to hear from Dean and flirts with him even though they’re on the outs -> Dean wants and expects Sam to answer his calls immediately and flirtatiously

- Dean asks his mom where Sam is and says “I’m dying to see him.”

Dean is literally dying, hanging by his wrists with his blood slowly draining out of him, so that he can see a version of Sam who is happy. He’s thrilled to see his mom, but a huge part of this wish is seeing Sam happy and educated and successful and loved. Dean seems truly, glowingly happy and proud of Sam. It’s this part of him that wishes Sam had everything Dean couldn’t give him and that wishes they could both not only be normal but be fulfilled by anything besides one another.

- From the conversation Dean has with himself at his dad’s grave, it’s clear that he doesn’t believe his dad cared much about his personal happiness. He’s sacrificed himself in so many ways for his entire life at the altar of his dad’s mission, but now that Sam’s humanity is on the line it’s too much. He increasingly just doesn’t want to do this any more.

- When Dean decides to go after the djinn and reenacts the break-in scene from the pilot, it cues a reset in his relationship with Sam in this world. From this point Sam has to change his behavior if there’s any hope of Dean staying, so he starts to act a lot more like the version of Sam that Dean knows and loves in real life. This Sam is still saying and doing things that Dean wants and acting how Dean would expect him to act, but now the context has changed. He’s doing more of what Dean wants and breaking from the version Dean assumes would exist if their mom were alive.

-> Dean’s wish for Sam to be happy and normal is not as strong as his need to be close to Sam, for Sam to choose him and follow him and leave everything else behind to be together. Ostensibly Dean doesn’t ask Sam to come with him, but it’s his head and Sam is doing whatever will convince Dean to stay, so ultimately this is Dean. He needs Sam.

- Dean apologizes to Sam and Sam gives him this incredibly guarded look

and then this deeply worried and scared look

and then he decides to go with Dean “because you’re still my brother” which is the affirmation Dean needs. “Because we’re brothers” for these two is a deeper and holier connection than any other. And the way Sam is now more vulnerable and scared for Dean is exactly what Dean is used to from his little brother.

- Sam is trying to help and Dean says “what, you protect me? That’s hilarious.” It’s probably hilarious because this version of Sam is a pansy by their usual standards, but in reality Sam is on his way to find Dean and protect him. Dean keeps accidentally saying things that are true in real time.

- when she’s trying to convince Dean to stay in the dream, Mary promises no pain or fear, just love and comfort and safety, and specifically not worrying about Sam any more and watching him live a full life. So we have the bones of Dean’s deepest wish: love, comfort, safety, and to see Sam happy and safe.

In reality, Sam can only be any important kind of happy and safe when he’s with Dean. And the love that Dean wants can only come from Sam.

- Dean says “I’m sorry” to Sam, and only Sam, before plunging the knife into his heart and waking up. Mary and his dream-girlfriend are right there. His dead mom who he wished back to life is right there. But he looks at this version of Sam to say he’s sorry before waking up. This feels like another thing that he wants to tell Sam in real life but can’t.

- Dean has been tied up bleeding and on drugs for probably not that long but long enough that he lost consciousness and yet he snaps the remaining bits of rope with brute strength and kills the djinn when Sam is threatened. So he not only gets himself out of the djinn’s spell, but also saves Sam. And then he goes straight to help the other victim. It’s such a stark contrast to the man he thinks he would have been.

- Dean tells Sam that the dream wasn’t a perfect fantasy, it was just a wish, and that since he and Sam never became hunters they “never…” and Sam says “I’m glad we do.”

Never what? And is Sam saying he’s glad they hunt together or he’s glad that they became what they are to each other? This phrasing is purposefully vague. But it highlights Sam’s resolve this season in actually choosing to hunt, he’s not just doing it because he feels obligated. Even in the opening scene to this episode, remember how Sam asked to come along with Dean and went out looking for him right away when he hung up.

Dean looks at him so sadly, one eyebrow raised, like he doesn’t believe him that he’s glad, or doesn’t want to. He’s skeptical that Sam is really choosing this, or him.

- Sam tells Dean “I’m glad you dug yourself out, most people wouldn’t have had the strength” and Sam is the researcher so he probably knows this is true of djinn victims. It’s one of so many things that Sam admires and looks up to about Dean.

But Dean doesn’t want to be strong any more. He wants to stop worrying about Sam. Dean says all he can think about is how much this job’s cost them, and it’s Sam who argues that saving people’s lives hurts and isn’t fair but is worth it.

Dean’s eyes flick to Sam in this vulnerable, fearful way. I think he’s thinking about Sam here, about how nothing could be worth losing him. Not all the lives they’ve saved, not getting his mom back, nothing. He had to dig deep to find the will to wake up and his reason is Sam. Dean knows he’s in love with Sam and would do anything for him, but he believes he’s only as good as his ability to care for him, and those two things are at constant war. I think he thinks that if they could walk away from this life and be normal maybe Sam could be safe, even though he knows that’s not true.

[navree]

I straight up forgot about those Bridgerton posters! smh.

Like, it takes my breath away at how disrespectful it is to legit photoshop your lead actress to be thinner. That's a real fucking woman, have some fucking class!

[aphel1on]

Dungeon Lords and the Human Need for Connection

When I came across these panels again the other day, it got me thinking about dungeon lord parallels again.

...And I spiraled until I was writing my thesis statement about how All Four Dungeon Lords (Yes, Even Laios, Stop leaving him out of these discussions) Are Actually the Same.

Firstly (because on some level everything is about Thistle to me) I thought about how the lion could have very likely given Thistle a similar offer when his loved ones started losing their souls/rebelling/etc. And yet, there is no sign that Thistle ever accepted such an offer, nor any sign that he used magic to forcibly change people's opinions, the way Marcille briefly threatened the party with while she was dungeon lord:

Instead, he ended up with the fucking dining table that drives me insane. Which probably means that either Thistle rejected the offer, or the lion sensed it wouldn't go over well and didn't even try it.

Making replicas of people doesn't seem to be an uncommon part of granting the dungeon lord's wishes. In his time, Mithrun actually took the demon up on it:

(Not pictured; the infamous lamia-version of his love interest.)

What makes Mithrun different from Thistle and Marcille in this instance is that Thistle and Marcille both became dungeon lords for the sake of specific people. Both were motivated by the terror of losing their most important people, and both told themselves everything they did was for the sake of protecting those people.

Because they were motivated by genuine love, copies or mind manipulation were not palatable. I think Thistle even in the late stages of his madness probably would not find these to be acceptable solutions. No matter how twisted, possessive, and obsessive his love became under the dungeon's influence, it was still from the fear of losing those original, irreplaceable people that he was doing all this. Even as his relationship with Delgal and the other Melinis fell apart over the years... even as he was left with only their soulless bodies... he would still rather cling to whatever was left.

Perhaps on some level, Thistle recognized the same thing that kept Marcille from following through with her threats:

Even in the state of endlessly chasing their desires as dungeon lords, they couldn't feel truly okay accomplishing it that way.

For Mithrun, meanwhile, the people in his fantasy world were a means to an end. It was all-encompassing insecurity and the pain of not being wanted that led him to become dungeon lord. His desire was not fixated on any specific people - it was broad enough and desperate enough that anyone could fulfill it. The thing is, Mithrun prior to becoming dungeon lord was by all accounts well-liked. But his emotional walls were up so high that not a single one of his admirers could make him feel known and cared for. The kind of crushing perfectionism he exhibited in that stage of his life often comes with a silent and equally crushing imposter syndrome. No one actually knew him, because Mithrun didn't let them, even though every aspect of his personality then was a desperate plea to be seen and liked. I think the sad truth is that, by the time he became dungeon lord, Mithrun didn't truly believe that happiness was something that could be found in other people. (It's telling that his wish was for a world in which he had never been discarded; perhaps for a world in which he never felt the need to put up those masks.)

In this respect, Mithrun is actually more alike to Laios than he is to Thistle and Marcille.

Laios was told again and again by the world that it was wrong to be who he was - that he was unlikeable when he acted the way that came naturally to him. The lion didn't bother asking Laios about replicas; those would be meaningless to him. Like Mithrun, Laios had lost all hope of being liked for who he was, but took it one step further: Laios had lost hope that he could find happiness in the human world entirely. At that point, all he wanted was an escape. To leave the pain of the human world behind and become someone, something, different. All he really needed in order to be tempted into it was the assurance that his friends would be safe.

All four of these stories have a pretty obvious throughline when you think about it: the deep, intrinsic need for human connection and what happens to someone when that need cannot be met.

All four of them were starving for connection. All four of them experienced alienation and isolation that made them desperate enough to turn to the demon.

Marcille (a half-elf whose unstable aging left her without peers) and Thistle (raised as the only elf in a kingdom of humans) both formed intense attachments to the few people they did become close to, and went off the deep end from fear of losing them.

Mithrun and Laios were both rejected by others for aspects of themselves that were out of their control, and tried to cope by developing masks that left them unable to feel accepted by the people still in their lives.

...So it's fitting, then, that genuine human connection is also what saved all four of them in the end.

(Thistle is a little arguable here; I personally don't think he died, but even if you do believe he died at the end of the manga- Yaad being able to connect and empathize with him is what gave him peace and solace in his final moments.)

Dungeon Meshi is about alienation and connection as much as it is about food and cycles of life. (Or more like, these themes are masterfully intertwined - food is used to represent love and connection over and over again. But that's a whole essay in and of itself!)

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (6/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mutual masturbation, infidelity, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before had the wooden ceiling of a bed seemed so interesting to her.

The Maester was trying to be gentle and his touch was respectful – she knew that, but still what he was doing, the fact that there were other people around behind the cream curtains made her tense, even though she knew the verdict would be one.

When the examination was finally completed she sighed quietly and swallowed hard, rising on her elbow – she lowered her skirt down thinking she wouldn't give them the satisfaction and cry – Maester's voice and what he said was like honey to her ears.

"She is a maiden, My King. I have no doubt."

A moment later, she heard the sound of a door opening and closing with a loud slam.

Prince Aemond gave everyone an expression of his fury at this obviously unfounded accusation.

She took a quiet breath as someone pulled aside one of the veils – the king's face seemed satisfied, as if not the end result but the fact that he had once again shown his brother who had the last word was his reward.

"I am relieved, dear cousin, that you have come to no harm under my brother's care. I hope you understand that in no way did I mean to offend you or undermine your virtue." He said lightly, knowing that she could not reply anything other than to confirm his certainly sincere and good intentions.

"I am grateful to you for your concern, Your Grace." She replied, looking him straight in the eye, to her surprise feeling neither bitterness nor regret.

This would at least cut off any further gossip about her and the tongue of the servant who had given her pleasure that day, as promised by the prince.

She guessed he would not leave it at that.

"I wish to see your dragon and judge for myself the value he will bring to the upcoming battles. I also want him to stay in the Dragon's Pit with the rest of the dragons and not with Vhagar." He said, and she nodded, knowing that there was no point in standing up.

This brother or another, what difference did it make.

"He is still wild and untamed, my King. Accustomed to freedom. I fear that sudden confinement may kill his spirit." She replied softly.

Aegon nodded.

"I may yet change my decision. For now, I want to see him."

In accordance with his desire, he, she and a retinue consisting of several members of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston Cole, set off on horseback to Vhagar's lair where the two dragons rested.

When they arrived, she felt joy, or rather a new kind of it, one she had experienced for the first time when she saw Sheepstealer.

Her dragon squawked happily at the sight of her, coming quickly up to her on his paws, watching her from all sides, intrigued, paying no attention to the other newcomers.

He was as sweet as a baby, she thought with tenderness, lonely for long years, craving tenderness, understanding and attention as much as she did.

He was everything she was, which is why the moment she first looked into his eyes she knew she would succeed in taming him.

She knew what he needed and she was able to give it to him, and he reciprocated.

Her dragon was the only man she needed.

"Magnificent. Fierce. And large indeed. Bigger than Sunfyre. Very well." Exclaimed the King with a smile, clearly pleased and reassured.

When his brother was not next to him he felt in control of the situation again.

She stroked the muzzle of her dragon, for some reason also smiling, its scales under her skin hard and rough.

"We are at your service, my King." She replied, wanting to be sure they would leave her alone.

She just wanted to be close to her dragon, nothing more.

"Good. You and my brother will take turns patrolling the sky daily. This will relieve the burden on Vhagar and allow the prince to attend to other, equally important matters." He said, and she nodded.

"Present our subjects with our new dragon. Show them that we are stronger than ever." He commanded, and she held back the smile of amusement that pressed across her face.

Is that so?

Outside? Maybe.

But inside, they were one rotten fruit.

"My King."

Flying over King's Landing was a kind of liberation for her – she felt she was showing not only the world what she had become, but more importantly her father.

She hoped, feeling the wind in her hair, whirling on the Sheepstealer in the skies with laughter, that Daemon was throwing his cups in Dragonstone out of rage, cursing the day she was born.

Although she hated her heritage and her name, it was the dragon that saved her and gave her life meaning.

It felt like they understood each other without words, that one move of hers was enough to make him change his flight course to where she wanted or dive down.

Once they landed, she always spent a bit of time with him, lying on the grass beside him, stroking his muzzle – she wanted him to know that he wasn't just her tool that she used.

No.

She felt something completely different that filled her heart wonderfully.

Love.

Looking out of the corner of her eye at Vhagar lying in the distance, plunged into a deep sleep, completely ignoring them, she wondered if these were the feelings that Prince Aemond had for his dragoness.

You should fall to your knees before her, you fucking whore, not laugh.

This was not an expression of his pride then.

It was an expression of his deep affection for her.

She smiled at this thought, recognising that at last she understood him.

Her expression was gentle and contented when, walking down the corridor of the Red Keep with a guard who did not leave her side, she came across him, apparently heading for Vhagar's liege.

"Where have you been?" He asked disturbed, seeing her riding attire.

She sighed quietly, pulling her black leather gloves from her hands.

"The King ordered that we take turns patrolling the skies. I have done that duty today. You may rest." She said, and he swallowed hard, something expression in his face as if he felt discomfort.

Another thing he was taking away from him, she thought.

"Leave us." He directed his cold words to the guard. He nodded and walked away with the quiet clang of his steel armour.

The prince moved away towards the cloisters, and she moved with him.

He didn't want anyone to hear their conversation.

"What did you say to him?" He asked, looking sideways, as if he couldn't bear to see her.

"To whom?"

"To my brother. Did you betray me?" He asked coldly, throwing her a drawn-out, stern look.

She sighed heavily and shook her head, closing her eyes, tired after the physical exertion, not having the strength for his baseless accusations.

"How?" She asked, his jaw clenched, his body upright and tense.

"Don't play a fucking fool. You know perfectly well what I'm referring to."

She laughed at his words, shrugging her shoulders, bringing him to the brink of fury.

She could see it in his wide-open eye, in his feral, furious gaze.

"I know, but I haven't told him anything and I won't. It's not in my nature to complicate a situation where I'm comfortable. Being your enemy is not my desire. The lack of your unity drastically reduces my chances of survival, and having tamed the dragon, its value in my eyes has increased greatly." She said lightly, looking him straight in the eye, seeing that his hands entwined behind his back were clenched into fists.

He hated it when she spoke to him like that, but he couldn't do anything to her in public.

"I also wish for you to continue to teach me the language of Old Valyria. In return, I will report to you on what I am asked and what the King tells me to soothe your troubled soul." She hummed with a smile, watching with satisfaction as he drew in a loud breath and licked his lower lip, apparently trying not to use his hands on her long neck.

"Do we have an agreement, my Prince?" She asked, cocking her head.

He sighed, glancing sideways, and shook his head, clearly not believing that he had consented to such humiliation.

"In the library. Every day, right after supper."

She learned of Lady Floris Baratheon's arrival in the Red Keep from her maid – braiding some of her hair at the back of her head, she told her of what she had seen.

"Lady Floris arrived in a brown gown embroidered with gold thread. Her hair is black and long, pinned up in a braid, smoothed down in front, her forehead high, her gaze proud and solemn. Her smile, in my opinion, has no lightness or conviction." Said Lysa, and she giggled under her breath, looking at her and herself in the reflection of the mirror.

"What a harsh judgement. Perhaps it was that smile that the prince found so charming that he chose her." She replied lightly, thinking with amusement that her cousin was surely writhing in agony right now, entertaining his betrothed.

Good, she thought.

Let him suffer.

"Perhaps, however, the memory of that day must spend his sleep." Said Lysa, gracefully weaving one of her strands in with the rest of her hairstyle.

She blinked, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

Lysa looked at her surprised, as if snapped out of her reverie.

"Don't you know, my Lady? It was on this day that Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys. That poor boy. His mother searched for his remains in madness and despair, but apparently there was nothing left of him but his cloak. He was devoured by Vhagar." She explained, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.

He says that Luke's death was an accident, but I don't know if I believe him.

I don't recognise him anymore and I warn you that he's unpredictable.

She was sure she would eat her supper as usual in solitude, but it turned out that the King had held a small banquet and she was to attend.

Aegon wanted to show off her dragon and what she had done, while humiliating his brother and his betrothed, she thought wryly, walking there reluctantly.

When the door opened in front of her, she saw a long table, on either side of which sat the royal family and their loyal lords with their relatives.

She did not know where she should sit or what to do, the King, however, decided to take pity on her.

"Ah, here is my dear, fearless cousin. Come here, my Lady, I have assigned you a seat next to my brother. Perhaps your presence will lift his spirits." He called out, and she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze, knowing that she couldn't react to this, that she just had to survive it.

She sat down in the only empty seat, between her cousin and the king's wife, Helaena – she was pale and sad, staring off into the distance somewhere with empty eyes.

She still had not come to terms with the death of her son.

However, as she sank into her grief and sorrow, the King, on the contrary, was bubbling over with a desire for revenge, ready for action.

When she glanced sideways, all she saw was his hand clenched into a fist, his familiar scent reached her nostrils – she swallowed quietly, twisting in her seat, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs, for some reason remembering how pleasant the touch of his fingers was there, sinking into her damp folds.

She reached for her wine cup and took a loud sip from it, not bothering to look to the side, her gaze fixed on the Queen Alicent who sat opposite her.

"My Lady." She heard an unfamiliar female voice directed in her side and she let out a quiet breath, taking another sip from her goblet, hearing her cousin twist restlessly in his chair.

She looked at Floris Baratheon and forced herself to give her the kindest, warmest smile she could afford. Floris was also smiling; had it not been for her gaze, she might have found her expression even sympathetic.

However, her eyebrows arched in some sort of compassion, a sign that she wanted to show her false understanding.

"I congratulate you on taming a dragon. No one expected you to succeed." She said softly, shaking her head as if filled with sincere admiration.

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she managed not to laugh.

"I didn't believe it myself, my Lady. I was convinced that I would burn and become dust." She replied lightly, not taking her eyes off her.

Several people at the table chuckled at her words as Floris watched her for a moment, playing with the small gold ring on her heart finger.

"The gods have spared you. Will you stand to fight your father?" She asked, as if giving her a challenge of sorts.

"Enough." She heard her cousin's impatient voice between them directed at his betrothed.

She, however, found that she was happy to answer her.

"My dragon lacks experience and composure. I will be a mere support for the King and the Prince." She replied, and Floris leaned back, intrigued.

"Support indeed needed." Aegon added, popping a grape into his mouth, biting through it with a loud crunch. "On which we all agree. Now, music!"

For the rest of the feast, she pretended to be very focused on her piece of roast, which she ate slowly, knowing that she couldn't flee immediately if she didn't want to offend the King – she didn't hold him in special esteem but she knew that he held her in some sort of affection, and after what he had accused her of after his son's death, she feared that one wrong move on her part would be enough for her to fall back into his disfavour.

True, the responsible parties had been found and the King himself had brought them justice, however, she could not let him begin to think again that she had helped her father let them into the keep.

He had to be sure that she was faithful to him.

They both had to be sure of it.

Him and his brother.

She swallowed hard, pulled out of her reverie, feeling a shudder when her cousin's knee pressed against hers. She was sure he simply wanted to change position, he, however, spread himself out comfortably, leaving his leg where it was.

Should she move away?

Do nothing?

What was that supposed to mean?

She glanced sideways at his hand out of the corner of her eye – she could see that his fingers were tapping the tabletop in some nervous, impatient gesture.

Their lessons.

Was he trying to tell her to leave and go to the library before he did, so as not to frustrate his betrothed?

She wanted to ask him that, but couldn't, so she decided she would do what she thought appropriate and simply stood up, nodding her head at the King.

"Your Grace. I will retire now, if you will allow me." She said softly, and Aegon nodded.

"I allow it." He replied, his voice through the amount of wine he had managed to drink like a babble.

Gods help me, she thought as she bowed to him and the Queen Dowager, without bestowing even a single glance on the prince or his betrothed.

She waited in her chamber for half an hour, changing in the meantime into the more comfortable, casual silk robe the Queen had given her, throwing it over her nightgown, tying it around her waist.

When she finally stepped outside her guard furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Prince Aemond wanted to meet me in the library. Take me there." She said – the man hesitated and sighed heavily, indicating with his hand for her to go ahead.

Her cousin was already waiting for her – he gave her one protracted glance from over his open books, his eye open wide as if he was surprised by her appearance, candles all around him.

He nodded at her to sit beside him in the chair, and she did so, leaving her guard outside the door.

He moved one of the books towards her and opened it to a page he apparently wanted to discuss with her.

"We'll start with the basics. The most important and simplest terms." He said matter-of-factly, sliding another book towards her and leaned in, his clearly defined cheekbone close, too close, pointing his finger at one of the words.

"Jelmor." He hummed. "North."

"Jelmor." She whispered, feeling the tension in all the muscles of her body.

"Ñāqon. East."

"Nāqon."

"No. Roll your tongue at the n." He said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze from which her heart struck harder.

It seemed to her that his iris was black.

There was something obscenely intimate in his bent figure, in his slightly parted lips, in his proximity, the place between her thighs all swollen, increasingly moist and warm.

"Ñāqon." She whispered.

"Better." He hummed, his gaze never leaving her face even though his finger moved on to the next words, as if he knew this book by heart. "Vēzor. South."

"Vēzor."

"Endia. West."

"Endia."

"Muña. Mother." He said, something flashed dangerously in his gaze, as if he knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was not wrong.

She froze, clasping her hands on her thighs, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, the tightness in her throat indicating that she felt pain.

"Muña."

"Mmm. Kepa. Father."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with eyes glazed from tears, feeling her body begin to twitch. His lips parted slightly, as if what he was doing to her, the fact that she was vulnerable aroused him.

"Repeat." He whispered.

"Kepa." She said, feeling a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Kepa.

She shuddered, looking up at him in horror as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing the wet mark from her face.

"Trēsy. Son." He continued, his voice like the sound of water, calm and quiet.

Tender, as if he were moved.

Why?

She sighed as his hand traveled lower, his index finger running over her jaw.

"Tresy."

"No." He said. "Trēsy. The letter 'ē' needs to be read deeper, as if you want to sing."

"Trēsy."

"Tala. Daugther."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together, feeling that she couldn't do it, the feeling as if he was driving needle after needle into her heart made it difficult for her to get anything out.

She sighed, closing her eyes as he leaned lower, in some natural reflex pressing his forehead against hers, his hand sinking into the skin of her neck, his warm, excited breath enveloping her face.

She involuntarily clenched her thighs together, feeling the wonderful, familiar pulsing and tickling between them.

"Tala."

"Hāedar." He exhaled, something in his voice from which she felt her nipples harden, peeking through from under the fabric of her robe. "Little sister."

She opened her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her spine.

And that was a mistake.

He was looking straight into her face.

She sighed when she felt his other hand on her knee, moving slowly up to her thigh.

"Hāedar." She exhaled, feeling her cunt begin to leak with desire against her will.

"Lēkia." He said, as if he had done something definitive, a quiet moan breaking from her throat as his hand closed over her womanhood. "Older brother."

"Lēkia." She moaned and whimpered as his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, loud, sticky kiss full of their saliva and panting, her palm touching his scarred cheek, drawing a low murmur of delight from his throat.

She touched him.

She sighed as she let her hand sink into his smooth white hair, for some reason seeking comfort in him, an escape from the cold, bleak loneliness and emptiness that filled her heart.

They sank again and again into each other's soft, fleshy skin, his tongue bursting between her teeth as his hand lifted the fabric of her robe, the other clenched in her curls.

She would have cried out in shocking delight had it not been for the fact that his lips muffled all the sound she made of herself as the tips of his fingers dug into the silken folds of her womanhood, dripping and throbbing with lust.

He groaned into her throat when he felt how unashamedly wet she was for him, and she gasped when his free hand slipped from her hair to her wrist, grasping it, drawing her to his body, pressing it against the bulge in his breeches.

He murmured and licked her encouragingly as her fingers tentatively ran over the outline of his swollen manhood, hidden beneath the leather material, hard, long and twitching.

He let go of her hand, embracing her around the waist and pulling her closer as he made sure she was going to give him what he wanted, their sighs of desire melting between their plump lips as his fingers pushed against her hot slit.

She spread her legs wider, wanting to feel it, wanting him to do it to her, but they both jumped away from each other as if burned when they heard the creak of the door opening.

Her cousin wiped his hand, sticky with her moisture in his breeches, looking at his betrothed's figure, pale, and she lowered back the material of her robe, staring blankly at the books open before her.

Was she able to see by their faces, by their quickened breaths what had happened?

She felt shame at the thought that she shouldn't have done this.

She was his betrothed.

She was the one he should be touching like this.

She was the one he should spend the evening with, learning about her body.

"The guards told me I would find you here, my Prince. I did not know you would have company." She said calmly, however, disappointment and understandable annoyance could be heard in her tone of voice.

She swallowed hard, feeling that the material beneath her buttocks was wet with her moisture, her swollen walls pulsing greedily around nothing, begging to feel his fingers again, her nipples hard and sore, clearly outlined beneath her robe.

"I am teaching my cousin the language of Old Valyria. It is the only way she can communicate with her dragon." He said, feigning composure, looking ahead but not at her even though she stopped right beside him.

She touched one of the books and flipped a page, remaining silent for a moment.

"May I join you? I would also like to learn the language of your ancestors, my love." She said, her hand on his shoulder.

She looked at him and saw that he had closed his eye, as if he felt discomfort the moment Lady Floris touched him.

He swallowed loudly and opened his eyelid, his gaze helpless and childlike, filled with pain.

"I will not be able to concentrate with you standing by my side, my Lady." He whispered, his voice weak, as if he had run out of strength.

Floris's hand slid from his shoulder to his forearm, his figure tense, his lips clamped into a tight line.

He didn't look at her.

"Does my presence disturb you, my love?" Floris asked, and she twisted in her seat, deciding that this conversation was too private.

These were their problems, their betrothal, their worries.

Why was she allowing herself to be dragged into this?

"I'll leave you alone. With your permission." She said quickly, wanting to get up, his gaze shifting to her, sharp and angry.

"Daor, hāedar."

She froze in mid-motion with her hands on the table, looking at him in disbelief, feeling her walls clench around nothing at his words.

No, little sister.

Little sister.

She swallowed hard feeling her lips part involuntarily, her eyebrows arching in helplessness, the heat that spread across her chest strangely pleasant and reassuring.

Floris looked at him then at her and shook her head.

"What did you say, my love?"

"I don't allow it. We are not finished yet. Soon her dragon will move to fight at my side and she must be ready. I ask that you never interrupt us again. If you wish, we will take a walk around the royal gardens tomorrow, just as you desire." He said emotionlessly, as if trying to calm a whimpering child.

Floris swallowed hard and looked at her in a way from which she felt discomfort in her stomach, a sense of humiliation, frustration and irritation in her gaze.

"Is it because she is your cousin? Like any Targaryen you prefer your own kin?" She asked quietly, both of them bouncing when his fists slammed into the table, and he sprang from his seat, towering over his betrothed as if he wanted to tear her apart.

She too stood up, grabbing his arm in some helpless, naïve gesture.

"Lēkia." She said pleadingly.

Floris's lips clenched looking at the fact that she dared to touch him, that her prince looked at her and not his betrothed, that it was her opinion that counted, her word that could stop him.

And then Floris' gaze fled lower, to his breeches, and she froze, pale, seeing exactly her answer to all her concerns.

Her hand let go of him when his nostrils stopped twitching with rage, when his jaw relaxed into an expression a little softer, though still frustrated.

He finally looked at his betrothed and licked his lower lip, as if trying to control himself.

"I will consider that you never said it, my Lady. Otherwise I would have to recognise that you intended to insult me and my family. And that would mean, in turn, that my betrothed is a fool. Is that how it is, my Lady?" He gasped in a voice filled with mockery, from which she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze.

Floris Baratheon looked at him with eyes full of tears, and then her gaze turned to her, her lips quivering with rage and grief.

"No, my Prince. I am not." She said, turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

She was unable to look at him – the silence in the chamber, his taut silhouette standing beside her made her feel like her wetness was dripping from between her thighs straight onto the stone floor beneath her feet.

"You may leave." He said finally.

She nodded and moved towards the door on soft legs, walking out into the corridor, thinking that they had both accomplished some amazing feat by not simply fucking each other on that table.

She sighed loudly, running her hand over her face, thinking that maybe she wasn't such a bad person.

She figured that during their next lessons she wouldn't sit so close to him, that she wouldn't look at him or tempt him.

That she wouldn't let him touch her anymore.

She blinked, looking around, only noticing after a moment that there was no guard who should be watching her.

She turned when she heard the rustling of a gown behind her, something long and hard hit her head with all its force, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

It seemed a moment before she lost consciousness that she heard the breathy voice of her cousin's betrothed above her, only a quiet hiss left her lips.

"Whore."

[jedimayukidaawesome]

I have a hot take, and I just wanna air it out here.

I’m going to be honest, I wonder if deep down people actually hate Caitlyn because of her wealth allowing her to act upon her grief. And I mean what she ACTUALLY did, not what she did plus huge doses of exaggeration (looking at you “she gassed the lanes and everyone suffered because of her” crowd - she gassed the HQs of two chembarons and the arcade where Jinx was. She didn’t gas the whole of the lanes and none of the innocents there).

If Caitlyn didn’t have the wealth and status that she has, she wouldn’t have been able to hunt Jinx, the Chembarons and the Shimmer factories with a strike force. She rolled up with her team to a secret council meeting and didn’t get locked up or thrown out because she had a cause to be there as the Kiramman heiress. She also more than likely wouldn’t have been chosen by Ambessa to rule under martial law if she was a commoner. Her convictions aside, no one of the ruling families would’ve respected that decision, and Salo would’ve been manipulated and given control instead.

If Caitlyn had no status whilst being an enforcer, and Cassandra was a lower class woman who died working in that building, it would’ve more than likely been a one woman rampage through Zaun, with or without Vi, trying to hunt down her mother’s killer. She still would be pissed, she would still be grieving, she may still try to get the Chembarons and Shimmer destroyed, and her quest for revenge would be seen as more justifiable and sympathetic to the average viewer. Her not being rich makes her “relatable” and “misunderstood”, whilst her being rich makes her “monstrous” and “not relatable”.

The difference is that it’s far harder to do so as a simple enforcer as opposed to someone with power. If you’ve ever hated someone that deeply - a drunk driver that killed a relative, a bully that drove your friend to self harm, a parent that abused you severely - you at your angriest would wish for the worst to happen to them, and those with power make it so.

Caitlyn’s wealth allowed her to achieve her desire for vengeance far more easily. She had the resources, respect and voice that Ambessa exploited and the elites listened to.

She had the power many of us wished we had when we were so terribly wronged.

Do I think she fucked up? Yes. Do I believe she deserves to be crucified and hated because of it? No. She still had lines she wouldn’t cross (the cells where Vi was kept we’re not allowed to be used, causing violence at checkpoints got her pissed at Rictus and Ambessa, improving prison food because of an off handed comment from Vi and still have it to her mother’s murderer etc), she didn’t want things to turn out the way they had, and actively tried to do better: not for the sake of redemption, but for the sake of doing what’s right (giving Sevika the Kiramman council seat, allowing Vi to free her sister and letting go of her hate, betraying Ambessa etc).

I believe in “do not turn people away from a better path even after they fall”, and many here grant that concession to Jinx, who has murdered, kidnapped and destroyed, some of that for years. Yet people say “she was traumatised so young and she deserves to be protected”. She does, but when a victim of hers - who got ambushed in her shower whilst naked, kidnapped, vandalised and lost her mother in the same night- needs the same, everyone cries “ShE’s a MoNsTeR and a FACIST! I HATE HER - Vi DeSeRveS BETTER!”

Like bruh … the fuck?

Tl:dr - Caitlyn haters may just subconsciously hate her for being rich enough to enact revenge against an unstable, possessive and murderous teen who killed her mother and assaulted her, and those same haters cannot comprehend that Jinx caused Caitlyn’s own trauma and don’t even care to acknowledge it because of her wealth and Jinx bias. You see “rich” as an insult (hell, it’s the first “insult” Vi flings at Caitlyn after reuniting with her), and a negative character flaw; even though we’d all like some level of wealth in our lives to make it easier.

Caitlyn Kiramman deserves better, end of story

[vivinens]

a lover's game !

characters: neuvillette, wriothesley & navia.

summary: little things they notice about you.

warning, minor fontaine story spoilers. gender neutral reader. here's a few short drabbles, hello tumblr!

Neuvillette, while famously intrigued by human behavior, often finds himself completely fascinated with you in particular.

For all his objective understanding of worldly matters, he is still confused as to why he specifically craves your attention. It's utterly strange, really, how his eyes seem to trail after your movements and expressions with more care than he would show to others.

You smile differently, when speaking to him. He's picked up on this after numerous conversations involving you two and a third party. When speaking to Monsieur Neuvillette (he often wonders about the soft way you say his name), your tone is easy and your smile is—for lack of a more appropriate word—entrancing. But, the moment your attention turns to the third party, that smile is dimmed.

At first, he simply chalks it up to you wanting to get in his good graces. After all, he's had no shortage of humans attempting to get close to him in order to satisfy their own desires. However, even with his lackluster social skills, he can see how your behavior is different from the people trying to appeal to them for their own merit. Your flustered sentences and bright eyes were not the same as others using flattery to gain status among the court staff.

...Perhaps he should ask Navia about it. Not for the first time, he curses his own lack of social understanding.

Wriothesley is not usually the kind of man who finds himself hung up on trivial details. He spends too much time working and worrying as it is; so why should he make life more complicated for himself?

There were some things he can't help but notice when it comes to you, though. It's midday when he overhears you mumbling to yourself about a new treat from Café Lucerne you'd like to try—as well as something about you having already spent all your "fun mora" for the week. You had sighed to yourself at your own respective desk all afternoon, and the sheer longing he could sense made his eye twitch.

You arrived to your work desk the next morning to see a wrapped gift box atop it. You had gasped when you opened it to reveal the outrageously expensive cake you had been craving all week. Wriothesley couldn't stay to further see your reaction, as to not raise suspicion, but he was content nonetheless.

It was when he arrived at work the next day that he realized—after seeing a steaming hot cup of coffee set on his desk beside a signed thank you note—that you're more observant than you let on. After all, he had taken great care in not letting it be known he was the one who gifted you the cake.

He takes a sip of the coffee. It was the way he likes it. Yes, you were very observant, indeed.

Navia has always had a soft spot for her underlings. She remembers their birthdays, their favorite songs, and those who they would prefer to work alongside. She claims it's her duty as their boss to know such things—although, in the opinion of many, she often goes above and beyond.

However, if you were to ask any of Navia's other subordinates, they would probably say she tries to understand you best of all. You have known one another for a long time, and this friendship was something she held very dearly—especially after the passing of her father. You were a beacon of light in those times, when the world seemed against her and her father's memory.

In some ways, she wondered if she was... taking advantage. You worked hard to support her and Spina di Rosula, and earned hardly nothing in return. Pay was rocky and sometimes even scarce. What if your talents could be better used elsewhere? What if you truly did want to leave? What if—

"You're overthinking again, Navia," you sigh, and before she can even think to respond, your hand is reaching to feel her forehead. You're sat beside one another on a bench, taking a small reprieve after a day spent out and about Vasari Passage. "Hm, I'm surprised you don't have a fever. You've been acting strange all day," you say, tilting your head. "You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

The genuine worry in your voice makes Navia's heart flutter. "No, no, nothing at all!" She exclaims with more confidence than she feels. She seems to be doing that a lot lately. "But... thank you, for worrying about me. You shouldn't have to."

You frown. "I care for you—perhaps more than you understand, Navia. You don't have to speak about it now, but if something is troubling you, I will always lend you an ear."

Sometimes, Navia finds you truly are too understanding of her emotions. Instead of responding, she nods wordlessly, lest the things she wants to say so desperately clog her throat, and reaches to rest her hand against yours. You don't pull away, and the loud hammering of Navia's heart continues in her chest. It does not stop for a long while.

[elsecrytt]

okay NEW curse technique concept: love conquers all!

your technique straight up alters reality. it will heal you or others, kill or harm people in any specific way, you can travel quickly, produce objects/food/etc. out of nowhere, whatever you want.

however. you can only do it if you genuinely believe it will make your loved one happy. otherwise you are just a regular person.

if you're not in love with someone, you're an ordinary person.

thankfully (?) you're a bleeding heart romantic and you fall in love pretty often! you might be shallow at first but your desire to pursue a relationship and get to know your crush is 100% sincere!

for added comic effect, you do not know what curses are and are unaware of your cursed technique. you just know that you're super capable whenever you're doing it ~for love~

unfortunately, when you fell in love with satoru gojo, he pretty much immediately shot you down.

commitment issues, sorcerer problems, yada yada. he could tell that you were genuine with your feelings, too, and satoru does do hookups but he's not a total asshole.

satoru being LITERALLY the luckiest person ever - six eyes, limitless, ridiculously tall and beautiful, talented students and powerful allies - and he's handed an instant win ticket to life in the form of your undying love and devotion and he just tosses it out LMAOOO.

so you go through your heartbreak phase, grieve for a while, and of course eventually get back on the market.

and you find him! the kindest, most considerate, respectful man alive.

he's a bit of a workaholic, but he's unbelievably polite and sincere, and every bit of understanding you show him is repaid tenfold.

seriously. he was late for a date once because of work, texting ahead twenty minutes and apologizing profusely, showing up with flowers and a thousand "I'm so sorry, my superior at work was a bit unreasonable - he works hard, too, though. I'll plan better in advance!"

when you smile and hug him and accept his apologies easily, you can see him holding back tears, a giant load releases his shoulders.

the more you learn about his work, though, the more you realize it's his only flaw. it's not even his fault!

his superior is just this giant asshole. "he works very hard, he's excellent at his job" your fucking ASS, why should your man have to put in constant overtime to drive his ass around?

apparently he had to drive three hours to pick up some sweets. kikufuku, of all things, from this one specialty store in another prefecture, just for his stupid coworker -

it pisses you off!

so when ichiji arrives for your date one day, nervous, with his unreasonable coworker in tow - well, you're shocked to see that you recognize him.

satoru, of course, immediately gloats that he recognizes ichiji's precious girlfriend - she even asked him out, once, before!

internally, he supposes it's kind of nice that you found someone better suited for commitment. although ichiji really doesn't deserve someone as good-looking as you -

SLAP!

he stares, dumbfounded, his cheek red and stinging. something strange curling in his chest at your vicious glare.

"You're Ichiji's shitty coworker?" You growl, "I'm glad you turned me down. Don't ever bully my man again, or you're dead meat."

holy shit, satoru thinks to himself as you snarl at him, ichiji panicking, trying to hold you back.

dead meat. holy shit, he actually believes you.

-

obviously from there the plan would be enemies to lovers, with the requisite comedy and pining on gojo's part about having let you go the first time.

you have a very strict policy of never EVER pursuing someone who turns you down (you don't know this, but it's actually a condition of your cursed technique). but satoru will find out - that doesn't stop him from pursuing you.

unfortunately, you're also unbelievably prideful, and still very in love with ichiji (who himself is struggling with a sense of inferiority which will eventually tank your relationship).

so gojo gets his ass beat on multiple occasions,,, watching in awe as you do thinks even he can't, and doubly flabbergasted when you insist you're not doing anything particularly weird.

you punch through his infinity? "are you telling me you think you're a wizard with an invisible force field around yourself? seriously?" cursed spirits? "is this a cult?? ichiji is your coworker in a CULT?" his hollow purple doesn't leave a scratch "i mean, was it supposed to?"

god i'm just feeling the comedy these days. i need to make fun of these silly little guys in this silly little manga, i love them so much

[yandere-sins]

About the thing where darling's descended from a close friend of Maleficent, imagine if darling's ancestor befriended Maleficent when she was still a princess and darling looked exactly like her ancestor in her younger days. Maleficent would definitely teach darling to be a strong, amazing woman like her ancestor (I'd say that she inherited her ancestor's magic, she hid it in NRC though). Malleus is done for, grandma's personally teaching HIS darling now.

I'd say these didn't age 100% well with the story, but we're reviving the Maleficent's friend!Darling!! Thank you for chatting with me about it ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

I think Malleus would honestly grow so pissed at his own grandma as he has to idly watch her take all of your precious time while being so focused on you she doesn't even help him with the nobles. She is not the one who should stand by your side as you are introduced at the ball. He should have been the one who showed you off and strengthened your bond with Briar Valley. While Maleficent is boasting about you, Malleus still has to fight off eager nobles who want him to take their children as his partner or at least concubine.

He really wanted to enjoy the night with you, though.

Even though he is well aware of what his grandma is doing—boasting your own confidence while being in the scrutinizing eye of every noble of Briar Valley—he is very miffed that you are so far away from him, almost unreachable, transcendent. As if he can't reach you while he puts on a fake smile and uses short, dismissive rejection on the next nobles of his beloved home. He's been asked to dance by so many people but not you, it makes him feel dizzy from anger.

Would you be concerned if he collapsed? Should he use some orchestrated weakness to gain your attention, your worry, and your affection? It might be worth it to lose some of his high standing in front of the nobles if it brought you back to his side, your beautiful eyes stricken with worry and grief about his condition. Your hands are on his body instead of the countless hand kisses that have been offered to you that night. Yes, yes, his grandmother was doing a good job weaving your fate back into Briar Valley after centuries of your bloodline being lost to another world. Still, Malleus cannot help but be selfish when he desires you so much. His eyes are constantly on you, barely forced away to greet another unimportant noble approaching him. There is so much longing and want in his eyes that he is very hard to approach despite having to maintain the facade.

Maleficient definitely notices his staring, the wistful puppy eyes of her grandson, but she does it for him, too. After all, to be able to marry off a non-fae (even without your knowledge) to someone as important as Malleus, she needs to gather all the approval she can get. It's not easy when you are respected while also being a grandma to an obviously lovesick fool of a grandson.

So she constantly, albeit very subtly, corrects your posture by poking you, make you use your fan as she has taught you, clears her throat when you laugh too loudly or speak too quietly. She is constantly nitpicking every one of your mannerisms, only satisfied when the nobles walk away nodding and approving of your presence at court. She does it all night long while feeling the daggers Malleus glares into her back. But she does it for you two.

And before the night ends, she asks the orchestra to play a few gentle songs before leading you away from the crowd. You are exhausted and sweaty, but Maleficient has to make a statement, and seeing her grandson light up as he realizes it's finally his turn with you makes all the training and hard work worth it.

Malleus is by your side in an instant, asking you for the dance. You are exhausted, but a last clearing of Maleficient's throat reminds you to do as you are told. She announces the last dance of the night, and although all eyes are on you and the heir of Briar Valley, quite a few people join in as if to show you their support.

You may be uncomfortable after going through such a long evening of being nitpicked at and forced to behave like someone you aren't. But Malleus makes it easy to follow his steps, always keeping a soft smile on his lips even when you step on his foot. You are so relieved when the song finally runs out, knowing you can finally go to bed, but as you two bow to each other, you are surprised to find Malleus clinging to you. He turns you to say goodnight to his grandma before pulling you out of the ballroom before anyone else, picking you up once you reach the hallway so he can walk even faster and fly away to get to his room more easily.

Because for the rest of the night, you are all his.

[1960z]

it’s always interesting how edgeworth and franziska textually share a sibling-esque kind of relationship but with manfred very rarely, if ever is a “father-son” sort of relationship evoked.

I think it could be because maybe even now in edgeworth’s “omg mvk is so cool I must be like him in every way possible” era he still doesn’t want anyone to replace gregory as the spot of “father” in his mind.

I also think that the ideas of “the von karma successor” and “the von karma family” have a… complicated relationship with each other. like edgeworth very specifically is always talked about as mvk’s successor. like how in the previous case ernest amono emphasised that he thinks of edgeworth as mvk’s “true successor”

and though I think franziska absolutely expresses a desire to also be looked upon as his successor, she doesn’t get that respect from a lot of people nearly as easily. in fact I think the only time she directly gets referred to as his successor is when she’s first introduced in jfa and it’s invoked in a “big bad von karma” type way.

it honestly feels like edgeworth gets a lot of the benefits associated with the von karma name and very little of the downsides whereas franziska gets a lot of the downsides of the von karma name and not a lot of the benefits. which I think definitely adds to the tension and at times strain of their relationship.

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[kissitbttr]

kiss it, kiss it better, baby

☆ ghost is insecure with the way he looks, but you’re there to help him realize he’s pretty ☆

pairing is with fem!reader

-

first thing you had learned about simon is how much of a closed off person he is. to the point where he shuts almost everyone out except his colleagues.

so when he first met you, he had no expectations whatsoever. sure, he thought you were breathtaking. ethereal even. the first thought when he saw you walked into the room for the first time is ‘how could God let His prettiest angel roam around free on earth? why had he not have any desire to protect you?’

your aura and smile is enough to make his knees wobbly. the sound of your laugh makes his lips twitch into a genuine smile. almost.

and he’s trying to figure out why your presence is making him turn into a puddle.

but he’s been there before. manipulated by soft and delicate looking people only for them to be a complete different person once he gets a little too attached. that reason alone was enough for him to protect his heart even more. despite your affection and your warm nature, he was still cold. harsh even.

and you understand completely. fully taking your time in getting to know him, being patient and soft, because a person could only handle so much given to his story. you heard from soap about how much he had to endured and your heart was torn.

‘poor lad… went through a lot’

is what soap had said.

so you made it your mission to make him feel at ease. become his person. his home. moving slowly but surely. this made simon baffled by your actions. why do you still hang around? why do you keep giving him affections? why can’t you just go and find someone who’s not bottling too much of emotions and trauma?

answer is simple. you love him.

and boy, was he shocked. in a good way. because it has been far too long someone had said that word to him. and not just say it but you actually prove it.

in time, simon begins to learn how to properly love again. he learns how to be someone’s someone. he yearns for you now. opening up a bit more about his past and he can’t forget the way you clutch his hands tightly around yours as he spoke. a simple act to remind him that it’s just you and him and no one else.

there’s only one thing he has been afraid of.

unmasking.

the thin scars decorating his face is one of the things he has always been so insecure about. and he’s scared that you might think of him differently after seeing. in your own opinion, he’s stupid to think that — will all due respect— encourage him day after day that you wouldn’t think so, still he doesn’t budge.

despite you being impatient on wanting to see his handsome features, you never push him. you would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. you adore him too much to do that.

“so i said to her… ” you emerge from the bathroom while brushing through your hair, eyes focusing on your long locks. “ ‘bitch, please you are looking at the owner’ and i kid you not… she went pale as shit” you chuckle as you tell him a about what happened at work

he hums, pretending to listen. the only thing that matters to him is how beautiful you look tonight. the way your fingers running softly through your hair, your glowing skin, your cute giggle and fuck,

how your night gown leaves little to no imagination,

“and then i took my G19 and shot her in the head”

“that’s good, baby” ghost mutters lowly, his eyes falls down to your exposed thighs. his train of thoughts were interrupted by you throwing a pillow at his direction.

“ow! hey!”

“you aren’t even listening!” a grunt of protest falls from your lips, arms crossed over your chest. “i was telling you about my day!”

he puts his hands up in defense. playful smirk across his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so good standing there in your night gown, love…”

putting down your brush on the bedside table, you roll your eyes. though you can’t help but smile.

“that good, huh?” pulling the covers next to him before slipping inside. “i look that good to you?”

his large hand moves to palm your thigh. “more than good. you look absolutely divine”

your smile grows, and you can feel him smile too underneath the mask. both of your eyes locked for a while before you sit up a little bit and pat your chest.

“wanna lay?”

ghost quickly nods with a grin, scooting closer towards you before carefully laying his head. his fingers tap your leg, signaling you to put it over his thigh, you oblige.

a sigh of contentment escape from his lips once your press a kiss on top of his masked forehead. gentle fingers tracing lightly against his traps.

a question bubbles into your mind. a question you have been dreading to ask. tongue clicking against your teeth as you contemplate.

“what’s on your mind, beautiful?”

it’s like he could read your mind. you can never escape him.

shrugging you reply, “just wondering”

“wondering what?”

you inhale a sharp breath. “about when i can see this handsome face of yours.”

a smile on ghost’s face falters a bit. he knows you have been waiting for him to unmask. it has been months since you begin your journey together, and he knows that you have waited too long to see him. it isn’t fair to you, he knows that.

but again, he doesn’t want you to think differently of him.

“hm?” you place another kiss on his head when he’s not answering. “am i getting closer to getting the privilege to see that handsome face?”

the question is playful, though ghost could feel his heart beating far too loud. he believes every word you say to him, because he knows you would never lie to his face. except this one particular thing

“ ‘m not, lovie” he squeezes your thigh, fingertips grazing your soft skin.

you gasp, moving your head back a bit to the side so you can see him. “and who told you that, huh? soap? gaz?”

he’s quick to shake his head. “no one has ever seen me. i just know that i am”

“baby, that’s bullshit and you know it” you argue, bringing your other hand to rub his cheek with your thumb.

a silence falls between you two. he doesn’t know what else to response to that. it has been too long since he lets anyone see how he really looks like.

he moves his head closer to your chest, pressing his cheek against it to listen to your heartbeat better. “i just don’t want you to regret being with me, tha’s all”

if a heart could break, yours would in that moment. for all the times you’ve spent together with him, ghost is not the person that would showcase his vulnerability nor emotions. he’s tough. cold. stoic. he’d rather die than to do that.

but something in the way he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard from him before just makes you want to protect him even more. the insecurity laced in his tone is enough to do so.

“do you trust me?” your voice is gentle as ever, seeing him nod slowly. “then you know i would never do anything to make you feel small, yeah?”

he snakes his arm around your waist, nodding again. “yes”

your eyes casting down to him. “can i see my pretty baby, then?”

he feels his cheeks warm at the compliment, swallowing a small gulp as he tightens his grip a little.

simon is quiet for a moment, making you almost feel guilty for pushing him a bit. but you can’t help it. you want to see him.

you want to see your man.

and as you’re about to apologize, he speaks up,

“okay.”

a wide grin slowly makes an appearance on your face, “yeah?” he nods slowly, looking up to you with a soft smile.

“yeah” his voice is low. husky. “i trust you.”

“you do” you confirm, fingers moving gently to the bottom of his mask. for a moment you stop to see any sign of him fighting back or fidgeting. but he gives you nod, telling you to continue

with a smile, you tuck both of your thumbs underneath his balaclava. slowly you remove the material up to his nose, familiar soft pink lips that has been brushing against yours for the past few months appears. you stop for a moment and let your finger thread lightly on it, goosebumps rises against his skin as he feels you getting closer to fully unfold him.

the beat of both of your hearts are thumping. one part, you’re excited and the other he’s anxious. anxious that you’re not going to like it.

he closes his eyes the moment you completely remove the balaclava from him. hearing a gasp falls from you is making his nerves go up even higher.

‘please don’t leave me, please… please don’t’ he thinks

“simon you—you are so. fucking beautiful’

the moment he hears those words, his eyes snap open. seeing your wide eyed gaze travel from his forehead and down to his chin. both of your hands move to cup his face with jaw slightly wide open. no words are uttered.

you are truly speechless. taking the time to observe every single detail of his features. from his dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, sharp nose, thin scars around his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. you believe those things compliment his entire face.

he is absolutely handsome.

“my god” your voice comes out in a whisper, his breath hitches. hand still gripping tightly around your waist. “you’ve been hiding all these from me?”

a hearty chuckle rumbles from his chest, avoiding your eyes because he fears that you might see him blush.

“you don’t have to lie to me love, i—“

“fuck i ain’t!” you exclaim with a laugh, head shaking at his response. “simon you don’t realize how handsome you are, do you? and these?” finger pointing at the faded scar,

“prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

he cocks both of his eyebrows, eyes glinting full of hope. “you think so?”

“i know so, my darling.” plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “gorgeous.” one on his eyelid. “my pretty man.” one on his cheekbone. “my baby” last one on the scar.

he pulls your body closer to him, melting at the feeling of your lips all over his face. “‘m not” he mutters

“definitely are. my handsome man” you argue, ruffling his hair. wide smile spreads across your lips as you watch your handsome man hides his face in between your breasts. “are you my pretty baby? hm?” you coo in a soft tone, not stopping to pepper him with kisses and praises.

he becomes shy, because he’s not used to this. choosing to find comfort in your chest yet he can’t help to admit how much he enjoys the affection. you feel him smile against your chest, and he’s hiding it but you can definitely sense him blushing too.

god, you love this sight. your hardcore, stone cold, military boyfriend becoming putty in your embrace. one you truly never thought you would see, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.

he does too. perhaps even more than you enjoying yourself

“me, me me. I’m your baby.” he mutters softly, eyes fluttering shut

-

i love babying a man, arrest me

[jsprnt]

Alliance PT. 2 | Prince!Jude Bellingham

W/C: 3.058

A/C: so excited for this chapter! what do we think so far? 😌

part one

I lean back in the seat, which had been my late father's during the time he reigned as King.

The dark leather underneath my elbows had gotten damaged through the years. The dents and tears through the stitch work a testament to the hours of time my father had spent in his study.

Dedicating his life to our kingdom, and fulfilling his duty until his last breath.

Pride and encouragement bubbled up in my chest, emphasizing the heavy weight of my current position and responsibilities on my shoulders.

I had been reading up on my future wife, the papers spread over my dark, wooden desk. Edges curling up due to the amount of times I had stuffed them into the cabinet, only to pace around and grab them to read them again. Trying to visualize every sentence over and over.

Princess Y/N had become the woman my mother had chosen for me to marry.

The person I respected most through my teenage years, studying and traveling all over the continent, was my very own mother. Who supported my father, brother, and I all through her own hardships.

Even now, loving my brother and me with all her heart, while reigning and ruling our kingdom with a clear mind and an incredible sense of purpose.

After the death of my father, I had seen her decline in both health and happiness. The smile on her face never reached her cheekbones, then her eyes stopped lighting up like when she was with my father.

It was only a sign of urgency.

I needed to take the position as King as fast as possible, just to lessen the burden on my mother's shoulders.

Mother could reign- until I had married my wife and we both went through the coronation process. According to our constitution, a King could only be crowned and start reigning if he was married, making it impossible for me to reign as a single man.

Even though I absolutely hated the idea of marrying an absolute stranger, it had to be done. I would not go ahead and mess with anything that held great importance to our kingdom, especially rules written down in our constitution.

Having both a King and Queen who ruled together, gave its people a certain reassurance.

Of course, in a normal marriage a couple could lean on each other, but with the past, and even current relations of our kingdoms- we both would not get along until we learned to ignore each other enough to stand each other.

Mother had repeatedly emphasized that even a couple in an arranged marriage should get to know one another. Which led to the sudden decision to inform me and probably the Feronian Royal Family that the princess would arrive a week early, and so it meant that she was on her way here at this very moment.

Not that a week mattered much, because we would get married whether we were familiar with each other or not.

Weeks ago, I had ordered my closest men to look for information on the Feronian Royal Family.

Since this would be the end of the war, I would have to actually act like I wanted something to do with this marriage.

I needed to figure out how this family operated.

How exactly things would go after our alliance gets put into motion..

I was especially interested in the Princess.

The Feronian Princess was known to the public as the most beautiful woman of her kingdom. If correct, her intelligence was well praised by scholars who had both taught her, and gotten to know her over the years working for the Royal Family.

I laughed at the initial wording of my men's statement, then stopped.

Staring into the void as I came to a realization that I actually was getting married to her.

Not that I was jumping at the idea of being a married man, far from it...

With marriage came the coronation, and I still could not quite believe how my life had changed in mere months.

I had been having fun with friends and acquaintances, studying the world and traveling wherever my heart desired, until everything stopped that one day I received the devastating news of my father's death..

Even the war with Feronia and us had come to a halt, a truce I had pledged my mother to make something permanent with this marriage.

I move my gaze to the next piece of paper. It was a summary of Feronia's sources of income, through the years, a decline was very visible.

I distinctly remembered that agriculture had been their biggest source of income for decades now.

From the beautiful green fields, forests, and crops, to even their official title 'Feronia', everything was connected to how well they had done with keeping their grounds fertile, making their agricultural trade a staying economic success.

Even managing to do so during the war.

At the end of my parent’s reign , this deal was the most significant duty I could ever fulfill.

Our kingdoms would receive each other's most prized and valued aspects.

Valeron needs a Queen for me to actually start my reign. And Feronia needs the connection to end this war. They were losing big time.

Losing their precious land to us, and different acting rebel groups who disliked the ruling family, and their dwindling weapon supply did not help much.

The last time I had visited the Feronian palace was not an encounter I could remember as positive. Their palace was decent, but humble compared to ours.

Though, it had beautiful gardens where I had the opportunity to see the most breathtaking views of the land.

The first time I had been there was to accompany my father to a visit to their palace. It was before the war, before the heads of both kingdoms had sour feelings about one another.

Their Queen was a cold woman from what I could remember, her presence radiating darkness.

I had been young, but old enough to remember the abundance of flowers in all the corners of the big rooms. I was incredibly excited to finally meet a princess my age, only to be let down as I was told she wasn't allowed to leave her chambers.

Years later, I had never learnt the reason behind it. I did, however, remember the nasty look her older brother had given me.

Their Crown Prince was incredibly hostile, even as a teenage boy, like he'd known I'd snatch up his baby sister as my bride only a decade or so later.

It was incredibly interesting to think back on such a moment, since I had gotten to know that her brother was not often in the palace. Always sent away for schooling, never home for more than a couple of weeks.

With his baby sister getting married soon, I'd doubt big brother would miss out on our wedding.

I wondered if the Crown Prince knew about our marriage, he really could be classified as a coward if he let this happen, especially since he was known to vocally dislike us.

Had he thrown a tantrum like a child when he heard of our alliance?

The thought made me chuckle, I bring my hand up to my mouth, wiping the grin off my face..

I move my eyes to the old clock on the wall, leaning back in my chair. I had received word of my bride leaving her home this morning. With a carriage and a few trustworthy men my mother had sent.

'To make her feel comfortable and safe..' she had told me.

My mother was a sweet, sweet woman, despite all the hardship she'd endured in her life.

My duty as future monarch was to protect everyone close to me. Which also meant that I had to prepare to meet the Princess halfway on her long journey.

It would be seen disrespectful as Crown Prince to let my future wife and Queen make such rough journey alone.

But, I also was an impatient person, and if I wanted to meet my future wife before anyone else, I would take the opportunity to do so..

Getting up from the chair, I grab the small suede box from the wooden cabinet of my desk. Sliding it into the inside pocket of my jacket, I leave my study.

Wondering if my fiancée was as beautiful and intelligent as they said.

Two freaking birds.

Two.

They had landed on the few snacks I ate, flew into my carriage as I opened the windows for some fresh air, and one started attacking me for quite literally no reason while I took a short nap.

I had tried to fix my now messed-up hair, without any help or a simple mirror, it proved to be difficult. I just hoped it looked presentable at least.

I grumble as my carriage hits another stupid rock on the road. I was getting absolutely fed up with this journey. Which no one had prepared me for to be this- boring and long.

The roads were messed up, covered in mud. Not used to a big carriage led by two big, strong horses and about seven additional knights with their own trusted horses.

Two men on either side, two behind my carriage, and the lieutenant leading us. And of course, the older coachman making sure my carriage moved along.

After all, these roads were only used by knights until now...

The Valeronian Queen was definitely protective of me and did prepare a great deal for my long journey.

If only I were emotionally prepared..

I was completely alone.

Gianna would only arrive after my wedding to the Crown Prince- which made me bawl my eyes out when I realized that- just minutes before leaving.

From all the servants in my palace, I had chosen for her to join me in my new life as future Queen of Valeron.

But right now, I had absolutely no one to chat to, gossip with- or complain to..

Even with all my travel buddies here, Lieutenant Kent and his crew on the horses didn't look like the chatty types.

At least I had thought of bringing a single book. It had kept me entertained for a while. Though, all the bumps and rocks on the road made me nauseous and feel unwell- so I quit reading a while ago, it sat across from me on the opposite bench- challenging me to pick it back up.

"How long until we get to the border?"

I lean forward to move aside the curtain laid across the window. My eyes meeting with a knight. He had dark, smooth skin. Long, beautiful braids falling down his back, some shorter ones that had escaped from his hairtie, falling in front of his face.

If a simple knight looked this handsome, my fiancé could not disappoint me..

"We have already passed the border, Your Highness. Rest assured, we will keep pace, and stay aware..'

I give him a simple nod, before pulling the curtains closed.

We had already passed the border? I had left my homeland without even knowing? It must have been while I took my nap, because every forest looked the same to me, for me to realize I was in Valeron already..

The realization stung, a slight pinch in my chest as I pondered whether I should be upset or thrilled for something new.

So far, if I could turn this carriage back around - I would.

I missed the way Gianna and I talked each other's ears off.

My wondering thoughts keep me occupied for a while, until the carriage stopped in an abrupt halt.

Gasping at the quick stop, I slide off the bench, and in an attempt to save my behind- I move forward, falling onto my knees.

Yes, the carriage was brand-new looking, but there was no way someone had just made me fall onto a place my dirty shoe soles had been..

I take a deep, mortified breath, put my hands on the bench opposite me, and pull myself up.

If there was some- big fucking tree on the road, again I'd freak out.

"What just happened?!" I scream, my blood was boiling at this point. Knees screaming at me to sit down, I could even swear I scraped them so badly they were bleeding.

"Your Highness-"

No, yelling from my carriage alone wasn't going to cut it.

I grab onto the handle of the door, pushing it open, before stepping down onto the leaf-covered, earthy ground.

The orange leaves crunch and ripple under my feet, as I angrily stomp towards the front of the carriage.

"Why are we braking so hard?"

I point towards the coachman, scowling in anger. 

One more crazy brake, and I would hit my face against the leather benches.

What would it look like, the Princess having a facial injury at her wedding because the roads were so unprepared she fell on her damn face?

I scoff when the horses neigh, they were probably laughing at my predicament..

No response from the coachman, not even an apology or look, really?

"What is happening? Tree on the road? Another carriage? Cattle?"

My questions go unanswered again, and I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. Until I'm interrupted by a tone, not one of these men would dare to use against me..

"I'm not sure how to feel about being compared to cattle at our first meeting, Princess.."

My body goes rigid at the smooth, accented voice.

Suddenly, all sane thoughts had left my body and mind, if I even had any left. Leaving me frozen, scowl melting into a wide-eyed expression.

Considering the knight's sudden attention to the person speaking, and not an immediate reaction to defense.

It could be one person speaking.

The crunching of leaves only gets closer, and I almost hit myself in the head to get myself out of my stupid trance.

I run my tongue along my dry lips, blinking a couple of times before turning my body towards the noise.

Harsh wind blows past my face, and I shiver slightly as I look at whom the voice belongs to.

My heart skips a single beat when I make eye contact with him. The jittery feeling made me hold my breath like an idiot.

Handsome alone was not enough to describe his face..

Those deep brown eyes, staring into my soul with an intensity I could not even try to describe. He looked cold, but his simmering gaze could burn a hole into my face.

Crown Prince Jude stood next to his deep-brown-coated horse, eyes on mine.

It suddenly got incredibly hot, even though the temperatures had dropped in the forest. My face turning warm, cold wind making me notice it even more.

The knights greet him immediately, in the corners of my vision, I could see them lower their heads in respect, their horses following as if they could sense the Crown Prince's demanding and authoritative presence..

"Your Highness! We were not informed of your presence.."

Lieutenant Kent spoke up, bowing in respect before approaching him.

But the Crown Prince kept his gaze on me.

"What kind of man would I be if I let the respectable princess make the entire journey alone?"

He raises a single brow at me, nodding at his lieutenant dismissively before approaching me.

I pull my coat closer to my body, even though my skin burned like a flame..

"It seems like she already is fed up with your leading, Lieutenant.."

A slight, mocking grin forms on his plump lips, eyes slowly move down my frame, lingering on probably the bloodstains on the fabric on my light gray dress and coat.

"Your Highness.."

My eyes widen as he makes a deft bow, his hand reaching to take mine.

"I imagine you are quite frazzled as you meet your fiancé in the middle of these woods.."

You would imagine he would go ahead and kiss the back of my hand, but he only shakes it once, letting go of my limp hand, making it fall back to my side.

Okay, rude.

I stare at him for a little too long, before replying.

"Crown Prince, as you just said, I was not made aware you would accompany me in the last hours of my journey to the Palace. It is great to see such chivalry..”

Woah, I had never spoken like this before, apart from my long etiquette classes..

I guess they really did have a purpose..

He chuckles, he fucking chuckles at my carefully created response...

"Are you always this pronounced?"

What?

"Excuse me?"

He shakes his head once, stepping closer.

The Crown Prince leans down, his face inching toward my ear..

I turn my head, making him look directly into my eyes, challenging him to say his response directly to my face..

"A simple observation, do you always yell at your servants when things do not go your way?"

I tilt my head at his audacity.

Where did he get it?

"Do you always cut off carriages and endanger the occupants of them?"

I question, raising my brows in annoyance, a scoff leaving my dry lips.

His smirk only widens, and I already can start crossing off the predictions list Gianna made for me.

'#1. The Princess will punch the Crown Prince in the face..'

"Most people being driven in Royal carriages are aware of themselves and their surroundings, actually, Princess."

I gasp at his insult. Did I look like I was not self-aware or something?

Before I can even respond, the Crown Prince- or asshole now, turns towards the surrounding knights..

"There is a prediction of a rainstorm. We should get going before it hits us. Please keep in mind to be careful with the carriage, our Princess here gets flustered easily...."

He shoots me one look before walking back to his horse.

I was deep in enemy territory, and he showed me exactly that..

Turning around, I climb back into my carriage.

No introducing himself?

Not even a ‘nice to finally meet you, my fiancée and future queen. You saved my ass, I will die for you’?

This time my blood boils twice as much as before, and I wonder if I was even made for this..

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

Addressing The Tinhatters: A Statement in Solidarity With @dtmsrpfcringe And Others

I've been active in this fandom for a little over a year, and in my time here I've kept my slate pretty clean. I try not to involve myself in drama and discourse, and when I see something I don't agree with online, most of the time I keep it to myself. I've been aware of the blogs I refer to in this post basically from the onset, but I've stayed quiet, partially to not come across as disrespecting others' opinions and preferences and partially to protect my peace and my own life as a creator. But what started as mostly harmless, if a bit unhinged and delusional, behavior, has turned on some fronts into unimaginable cruelty the likes of which I never imagined this fandom to be capable of. As someone who it seems people in this fandom have come to respect, I think it would be unfair and selfish for me to stay neutral any longer.

Fanfiction has been a genuinely transformative force in my life. It has helped me discover so much about my own relationships to love and desire, and I would never want to tell anyone that it is wrong for any ship to be that source of inspiration for them, including RPF. Nor do I think, as I've said, that it's inherently wrong to have speculative thoughts about David and Michael's sexualities. As someone who has been lucky enough to interact with David several times now, and probably will again, I choose not to do so myself in a public forum out of respect, but curiosity doesn't have to be invasive, and David and Michael being in loving partnerships with women certainly doesn't mean they can't be attracted to other genders too. There's nothing wrong with liking the idea of a relationship between David Tennant and Michael Sheen, or even, really, with believing they might have feelings for each other. If that's all you're doing, this post isn't about you. What I absolutely cannot excuse is the proliferation of hypocritical, nonsensical, and nasty rumors about the women in their lives.

Nothing Georgia Tennant or Anna Lundberg seems to do is ever good enough. Every expression of positivity is curated and phony, anything that could be perceived as negative vile and mean. I see these women attacked on a daily basis as partners, as mothers, as actresses. Georgia is simultaneously presenting a false ideal of a perfect, happy family for her own gains, while somehow at the same time being too irresponsible and incompetent to be a proper parent. Anna, a still young and up and coming actress herself, is expected to perform the ideal of an affectionate partner on social media, is perceived as unsupportive of Michael when she doesn't, when in reality she may simply be trying to make a name for herself in the industry without people solely associating her with the man she loves. Both of these women share in David and Michael's advocacy for marginalized communities, sometimes in different, more or less obvious ways. David and Michael are always brave and sincere, while Anna and Georgia's actions are always self serving and performative, though no evidence is ever given to indicate that the things they post or charities they support are any sort of cover or deflection. Nor are there ever any reasons given for their perceived lack of onscreen talent, other than that they're "boring" or don't have as many jobs as their husbands- never mind that both of them are in an extremely competitive industry and get perfectly respectable amounts of work, especially for mothers of young children. Worst of all, I've seen them accused of things as awful as child abuse and rape, all for the crime of simply being married to the wrong men. It's all so horribly gendered too, David and Michael often referred to as the "men" while Georgia and Anna are reduced to negative stereotypes of nagging, shallow gold diggers. As a fandom populated with so many queer people, many of whom, myself included, have found freedom from gender roles with Michael and David's characters' help, I thought we knew better.

I've been lucky enough to meet both David and Georgia now, and have witnessed firsthand the easy, joyful affection they have for each other when no one of consequence is watching, the way they giddily hold hands on the street and make each other laugh while tenderly looking into each other's eyes even and especially after sixteen years together. Georgia when I met her was incredibly kind, down to earth, and approachable, and my partner, who's met her several times more than I have, gushes about her constantly- how funny, authentic, and intelligent she is, and of course, how much she and David love each other, how they look out for each other and adore each other's flaws and quirks. David of course still gushes about Georgia every chance he gets in speeches and interviews, her strength and brilliance as well as her beauty, and Georgia, while maybe not always as effusive, shows her love for David in plenty of ways, the beautiful candid photos she takes of him, for instance. There's such a soft, painterly tenderness and fondness in them, for the man, not just the dazzling star everyone else gets to see. Her David, gentle, devoted, goofy, aging, melancholy, imperfectly perfect David. Where would we be without Georgia giving us these little glimpses of him? I suspect the same people who deride Georgia's social media presence as try-hard, cringeworthy, artificial, would feel a bit differently if one day they stopped coming.

I can't speak as clearly on behalf of Anna and Michael, but the accounts I've gotten of her and Michael's relationship from eyewitnesses have presented it as no less loving than David and Georgia's, albeit in slightly different ways. Even then, why should I have to? She doesn't owe me anything. I doubt anyone who's made the posts accusing Anna and Georgia of being nasty baby trappers has ever had children. There's no such thing as a perfect mother, and even one child is a massive task. It's normal to not be a shining ray of affection all the time, and Georgia I know more than makes up for it with her fierce love and support for her children in all of their endeavors. Georgia is also a diagnosed neurodivergent woman, and so many of the remarks I see directed at her are clearly discriminatory and often directed at women with her diagnoses. Everyone coos over how charming David is when he shows signs of being AuDHD, but the second his wife does too, she's careless and cold. And don't even get me started on when photos of Michael and David looking anything less than beatifically happy get interpreted as them being miserable due to their wives treating them so poorly. THEY'RE HUMAN BEINGS!!! NEUTRAL FACIAL EXPRESSIONS EXIST!!! WOULD YOU BE A SPARKLING RAY OF SUNSHINE IF YOUR DISNEYLAND RIDE GOT STUCK!!!

I say all this now not even because I think I have any hope of stopping the people in question, but because one of the main fighters on the front of the opposition, @dtmsrpfcringe, has been both a wonderful online friend to me and dealt with even worse abuse than that which gets hurled at Anna and Georgia on the daily. When my blog was briefly overrun by TERFs in light of the Tennant/Badenoch/Sunak drama, Tori was the first person to stand up for me, and as she recieves more vitriol in one day than I've ever experienced in my entire life online, I think I've taken far too long to do the same for her. This woman has dealt with doxing threats, attacks on her character, and most horrific of all, wishes of death upon her and her baby. No one would blame her for stopping, but she has remained steadfast in her mission to call bs where she sees it, and she shouldn't have to do it alone. Tori, I think you are so brave, and I am proud to stand in solidarity with you against the misinformation, meanness, and misogyny that threaten to corrupt this fandom we call home.

Even after all we've been through over the past couple of months, I still believe the Good Omens fandom and David and Michael's individual fandoms to be places of kindness, empathy, and inclusivity. Which is why such cruel behavior (because there's no other word for it) is utterly disappointing and baffling to me. You should be utterly ashamed of yourselves. You're the exact kinds of people David and Michael speak out against on a weekly basis, and I guarantee that if you engage in the kinds of behavior I've highlighted here, they would be disgusted with you. Or maybe they'd simply pity you, because your lives are so empty that you've decided the only way to fill them is to sacrifice the reputations and peace of innocent women on the altar of a relationship that in all likelihood takes place solely in your own heads.

And if you read all this and find you still ship David and Michael, which even I do sometimes, well, there's always polyamory.

I'm sleepy! good night and kindly fuck off! - Lauren

[iiannabxth]

unpopular opinion, i guess, but despite the fact that nicole claims to be a sociopath, i really don’t think she is. (that being said, she still isn’t a good person.)

throughout the game, she does express empathy and sympathy for characters like jecka, ari, or even jeffery, but will actively choose to ignore her wrong doings in order to peserve her own piece of mind- something that most teenagers do. in each of the endings, nicole will reflect on the actions she took to end up where she did. her reactions can range from denial to her own faults to a realization of what she really did.

though it’s a comedy game, so everything is incredibly exaggerated, nicole is clearly depressed and extremely suicidal. she’s addicted to drugs to distract herself from her own thoughts, which allows her to feel better, even if just temporarily. i think her numbness and recklessness probably come more from her disregard for her own life, rather than for a desire for entertainment. she also has no positive role models, as her brother is slobbish and lazy, and her mother is abusive and irresponsible.

nicole was implied to be a relatively normal person before the events of both games, having become popular in her other school once she became pretty. she also talks about what it felt like to be considered an outcast and to be left out. during the game’s opening, she says she used to be nice and and friendly to people, but she ends up changing her tune just before the events of the game begin, choosing to decide not to care about anyone but herself. she even explains this to her mom during one of the routes.

from what i gathered, her dad was a nice person who was constantly taken advantage of by people (including nicole’s mom), which led him to kill himself. nicole was probably traumatized from watching her father’s suicide, and decided after watching it happen (and having the only words on his suicide note being “nicole’s fault”) that being nice wasn’t worth it.

for example, after the whole school turns on her in the suicide ending, nicole describes how hopeless and miserable she felt. she says how she learned exactly what people wanted from her, which was sex more often than not. she spends the entire route being friendly to people (mostly boys) she doesn’t like for the sake of “being nice” and getting them to like her, only for it to blow up in her face because she didn’t want to sleep with them. she feels taken advantage of, just like her dad, which drives her to suicide.

regarding her apparent lack of empathy, she is said to feel sorry for what she did to ari, though she chooses to ignore it because guilt makes her feel bad. as jecka pointed out, ari didn’t really do anything wrong, which makes nicole feel upset because she knows she messed up. it’s clear that nicole has a morale code, though it’s a bit twisted. she hates people who are homophobic, racist, sexist, etc. (she makes a few odd comments throughout the game, but my point still stands). her lack of remorse comes to people like kyler, who nicole hates because he is a known rapist and misogynist.

as i said before, jecka, ari, and jeffery are probably the best examples of nicole feeling bad for others.

jecka is nicole’s best friend and the person she cares most about. a key moment in the game that shows this is when jecka gets mad at nicole and they temporarily end their friendship. after realizing she’s in the wrong, nicole goes to apologize by getting herself stuck with the counselor (a man she openly hates) all year so that jecka can smoke in peace again, which was something she’d previously complained about.

ari is important because i think she represents nicole’s own sexuality. while nicole is overly harsh and abusive towards her in one of the routes, in the other, she supports ari at first, telling her that even though coming out might seem tough, nobody cares and that most people would be fine with it. i personally believe nicole is gay herself (based on her respective interactions with jecka and emily) and i think that how she chooses to treat ari is based on how nicole feels about herself.

regarding jeffery, nicole probably sees a bit of herself in him. therefore, since nicole hates herself, i think it led her to immediately hate him too. (that’s not to say he isn’t weird and annoying, of course.) jeffery is the school loser that everyone either ignores or abuses. nicole says in the opening that she used to be that kid too. in jeffery’s deranged texts to nicole, he says a lot of the things that nicole had said herself. in one of the routes, nicole can choose to talk jeffery off of the ledge, which leads him not to kill himself nor shoot up the school. (i think jeffery has schizophrenia, so there’s that.)

but like i said, just because nicole isn’t exactly a sociopath doesn’t mean she’s not a bad person. she’s still pretty awful and makes dumb and harmful decisions. i think she’s lowkey a well written character that’s really funny, but has a moments that actual inspire reflection.

anyways, i wanna know what yall think. i could be wrong, and she really could be a genuine sociopath or have sociopathic tendencies, because as i understand, sociopaths are made, not born.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 9

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, isildur x reader, sauron/halbrand x reader

Word count: 2k.

Summary: dudes just gotta stop deceiving people.

Tags: angst, insecurities, isil being a Good Dude, Galadriel and the reader still hate each other

Notes: I'm very tired (two sick kiddos will do that to a mom) and not too happy with this one. But it's a filler part. As always love yall and the feedback

You stood in silence as Halbrand left. His revelation of his past with his father and uncle had broken your resolve in your anger towards him. Confusion still sat in your chest and itched the back of your mind, but you had forgiven him. He seemed so passionate in his intention to earn you, but you had no idea what he meant by that. His deeds had already shown his character. He had saved you so many times it would be useless to count. You could only wonder what had plagued him so that he felt he still felt as if he was too tainted for you.

You thought this over, getting lost in your thoughts and thoughts of what had transpired the night before. You had never felt anything like that. Sure, you'd had desires that crossed your mind late at night. You’d had a rather large crush on one of the local farm hands, and he had entered your dreams many times. However, nothing compared to the heat that burned through you at Halbrands touch, the gruff sound of his voice, the feel of his hot breath. You had to close your eyes, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you willed the thoughts that filled your mind to go away.

Soon, though, you found yourself wishing for the sound of the waves and smell of the ocean air, so you made the venture outside the inn. You watched the hustle and bustle of the locals, the sound of children's laughter. You never wanted to leave this place. It was so different from your home.

The sound of your name being called made you stand straight and tall. Soon, Isildur was running up to you, breathing heavily. “I don’t have much time, I have to be at the beach in…well, very soon,” He looked at you with a smile, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I came here to apologize for making a scene and for putting your honor to question. That was never my intention, and if you wanted to, I would completely understand if you wanted to slap me in the face a time or two. I have more than earned that.”

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head, “I don’t think that will be needed.”

He laughed, “I am relieved, I was not looking forward to explaining that black eye to my father.”

His smile faltered for a moment as he searched for words, “If your heart belongs to another, I hope you know that I would find contentment in your friendship as well. Perhaps it would not be my first choice, but being your friend would be an honor beyond measure.”

You nodded, reaching out and squeezing his hand, “I would be content with that too. I hope that I did not lead you to believe there was more.”

Isildur shook his head, “You did not. You are simply beautiful and kind and funny, and I am but a man. I still would like to show you more of my city's culture. There is a massive library and halls of art and food better than what we were treated to last night. That is, if you are indeed interested in that.”

“Of course,” you grinned, excitement bubbling in your belly.

“Yes? Yes! Well, then I shall see you later this evening? Right before sun down. I’ll meet you here?”

You nodded, your lips parted to answer when you heard one of his friends call his name, and he simply smiled at you before running off. You remembered what Halbrand said. He wanted you to have friends, and so you would. Isildur was kind. He was respectful, and you had no reason not to trust him.

~

“Where is Halbrand?”

You looked from your lunch of rice and fish, your spirits dropping at the sound of the elf's voice. You had avoided her as best as you could, and it had been successful for the most part. You knew she hated you, and while you did your best to understand her hatred, there was part of you that blamed elves as well. If it weren’t for them, your mother would still be alive, and you’d have the baby sibling you had been so excited for. But you knew it was unfair to blame Galadriel for that. You just wish she would understand the same for you.

“Where is Halbrand?” She repeated, sounding annoyed. You noticed that in her hand, she held what appeared to be a scroll.

“I do not know. I have not seen him since this morning.”

“Did he give you any idea to where he was going?”

You shook your head, turning back to your food. You did not want this conversation to last longer than it needed to.

“You seem rather content to sit and do nothing, to feast on the food of a people who have earned prosperity. I seek to fix the wound your ancestors and your family caused. Do you not seek redemption?”

You stared at the rice on your plate, your expression hardening as you tried to keep your tongue. A fight would solve nothing. You knew she was hurting as were you but the smugness in which she carried herself, the arrogance that radiated from her, it was fueling an anger in you.

“I have committed no crime to be redeemed for.” You spoke softly, not bothering to look up at her.

“Do you not feel guilty for the 37 elven souls your father, brother, and uncle took. Are they not worth redemption? Are they not worth trying to right your fathers wrongs?”

“And what of the families in the Southlands that your kind oppresses for a sin none of us committed. Crops die, money is scarce and yet we have to give a portion to the great elves who want not for food or medicine.”

“It is a reminder…”

“A reminder that to elves, we will always be less than. You act as if the Numenorians were bestowed greatness by your kind as if man can not achieve that on his own. You act as if children are responsible for the sins of their fathers as if the elves have committed none.”

“You speak of which you know little,” Your raised voices were beginning to draw a crowd. “Do you feel no guilt or remorse for what was done?”

“I feel remorse every day. Do you forget I was a child? Do you feel no remorse for your people making me watch as your people executed my only family.”

“It was what had to be done.” She replied, coldly staring you down.

“You are but a petulant child. Your callousness and arrogance will leave you without friend or affection, and I can not imagine what a lonely existence that will be for someone who does not die.” You stood up and pushed past her, walking fast to escape the eyes following you.

`

It was after Isildur took you to the grand library and to get dinner that you had learned of Halbrands fate from the whispers of locals as you walked past. You had enjoyed your time, feeling a true bond of friendship between the two of you. You were falling more and more in love with this island and hoped upon hope that you would be able to stay here. There was nothing for you at home. Orcs had burned down the only home you knew, but this seemed so far away from that. As if evil could not touch it.

Halbrand wasn’t evil, but he may be ruining your chances of being here with his antics. You had come to the realization that wherever you went, he was likely to follow. It was a strange sentiment to have in such a short time, but you knew you’d follow him too. No matter where his temper might land him. It was for this reason you had found some food and skin of wine and were down to the dungeons.

It seemed you weren’t the only visitor he had. You heard the elves' voice before you saw her and waited in the shadows, listening to the conversation unseen. Perhaps you shouldn’t but your curiosity got the better of you. A dispute about a woman? You could tell from the way he was speaking that it was about her.

Of course it was.

You wanted greatly to believe all that he had told you that morning, that he had shared something personal with you and that was a sign of how he trusted you but here he was so freely telling her of his past. The heir to the throne of the Southlands, how his ancestor was who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. All of those had been lacking from the story he had told you. You didn’t think him a liar, but you didn’t know what to think as it seemed he so easily opened himself up to the elf.

You heard as the elf mentioned fate bringing them together, of him going to Middle Earth with her, and he did not argue against any of it. If his intentions were truly with you, why then did he not make that known to her? You were able to see his expression as she ascended the stairs. He watched after her as if she was some grand prize with a twinkle to his eyes and a smirk playing at his lips. She was a prize, you supposed, she was an elf. Truly unattainable, with beauty that men merely dreamed of finding. She was mysterious and strong.

And what were you?

You had nothing to your name. Your only talent was in what your mother and the family kept you as a ward taught you - healing and gardening. You didn’t suppose you were all that beautiful. No one had attempted to court you. You were not mysterious or battle hardened or the daughter of a noble bloodline.

You were just you.

Of course, she would be the prize.

Quietly, you slipped from the shadows and made your way to where Halbrand stood. You saw his smile, and perhaps if you hadn’t been so caught in your insecurities you’d see how he looked at you as if you were the dawn itself. But his smile faded slightly when he saw your face.

“Sweet one?” His hands reached through the bars for your hand, which you simply pulled away from him. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“I brought this for you,” You slipped him the cloth full of bread, fish, fruits, and cheese along with the skin full of wine.

His eyes never left yours, sitting it all behind him on the bench as your eyes looked at the ground. “Will you not look at me? Are you upset about this? It was simply a…”

“Dispute about a woman,” you repeated his words back to him. You saw his expression shift. He knew you heard his conversation.

“Sweet one…” He started.

“I could find contentment in a friendship with you. That would be an honor,” Your words echoed what you were told mere hours before.

“Friendship?” He laughed softly in disbelief, looking at you as if you grew two heads, “I told you of my intentions, and I meant it.”

“I do not know if you did. I do not know if you know what it is you want. I do not want to fight in a competition with the elf when I know I would lose it.”

“What are you talking about?” He breathed the words out.

“I see how it is you look at her. I hear how you two talk. I am not stupid enough to think that you do not want for her as she does for you. In talks of what your future holds, you never mentioned me.”

He scoffed, “You are reading too much into it.”

“I do not think that I am.”

“Do not reduce this to mere friendship. Please, sweet one.” He looked at you as if his heart was breaking, his eyes frantically searching your face for an answer.

“I need to go,” you backed away from the cell.

His fingers reached for you, but you pulled away, “Please, sweet one, please do not go when I can not follow.”

You spoke no more words, turning on your heels and wiping at the hot tears that were spilling from your eyes. You ignored the desperate calls of your name as you ascended the stairs. The only thing you could see was the way his face lit up when he saw Galadriel.

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Personas' Unique Skills

All this talk of Maruki made me think of the special skills that individual Personas can have. These are clearly born from some strong aspect of the User. Something strong enough to define them as a person. So to determine what counts as a Unique Skill(tm) I consider the following:

No other Persona in their respective games is able to do it.

Almost never included among the skills you can use during normal combat.

Users can just use it whenever without needing to power-up or receive a boost.

It's related to the User's personality and/or journey.

Must have possessed it from the moment they awakened to their Persona. It was a package deal.

Users can or have been shown to use it passively in their daily lifes.

Off the top of my head, here are the Personas with Unique Skills, though feel free to add more if you remember any:

MOT

Belonging to Reiji, it possesses a fear aura. Unlike everyone else on this list, this actually made Reiji's life harder. Useful while trying to be an edgy teen, not so much as a salesman.

AKUMA

Belonging to Kenta, it can create desire in people. He used it to make himself a successful salesman. You gotta respect the hussle.

NIGHT QUEEN

Belonging to Tomomi, it's less of an original power it had and more what it mutated into. By separating itself from Tomomi due to the Demon Mirror, the Night Queen could (potentially) bring an "eternal night" into the world. Maybe her original skill as a Persona was a weaker version of this. Maybe darkness/shadow manipulation. Something to go with her name.

VULCAN AND APOLLO

Belonging to Tatsuya, they could slow down time and give him brief bursts of super strength. This made him ridiculously OP in Tatsuya's Scenario, soloing entire quests while the main plot was happening. Then again, he was running on NG+, so maybe it was a mix of both.

PERSEPHONE

Belonging to Musubu, it could brainwash people like a parasite, with the infected spreading the brainwashing to other people and growing stronger as the number of infected grew. Strong enough to create pocket dimensions.

PENTHESILEA AND ARTEMISIA

Belonging to Mitsuru, Penthesilea had some minor enemy-detection abilities. Just enough to know there's a threat. It also seems Mitsuru's ice skills go beyond what is normal for other Personas, manifesting in the physical world as well without the need to summon her Persona. That's a Unique Skill, alright.

LUCIA AND JUNO

Belonging to Fuuka, they have the Navi Package (get info on the enemies, sense the location of other beings, heal the party, etc). Navis might appear every game, but that doesn't make them any less unique.

MEDEA

Belonging to Chidori, it could fuck with Navis and, most importantly, heal. Chidori had one of the strongest healing powers, from people to plants to herself. Derived from this, she could also transfer some (or all) of her own life to heal someone else, even from the brink of death. Junpei would later inhereit a weaker version of this.

HIMIKO, KANZEON AND KOUZEON

Belonging to Rise, all her Personas have the Navi Package, though a bit more active than Fuuka's, mostly due to her experience and training as an idol (having to know what people want and how to please them without letting them step on you is an art).

NECRONOMICON, PROMETHEUS AND AL AZIF

Belonging to Futaba, they also have the Navi Pack, though way more active than Fuuka and Rise's, reflecting Futaba's deeper understanding of cogniton and her experience obtaining information.

LOKI

Belonging to Akechi, it could cause any being to go berserk, including himself. This power tells us that Akechi needs to get proper therapy.

AZATHOTH AND ADAM KADMON

Belonging to Maruki, they can alter a person's cognition of themselves and/or the world. The world-reaching powers he showed were the results of many shenanigans that had nothing to do with him, but it's still a pretty strong power, as shown with Rumi and Sumire.

Before anyone says anything, I count Third Eye as a gift by Yaldy rather than a natural skill. You can count it if you want, but for me its an extra thing. This also implies it's an AKIRA skill, not a PERSONA skill. Same with Minato's Great Seal. That's a MINATO skill, not a PERSONA skill (one born from having an embodiment of Death inside him for years). Both of them could still use those powers even if they didn't have access to their Personas, say, if they were reaped or something.

I truly believe every Persona has or is capable of having a Unique Skill, but either they aren't shown or the User doesn't know about it. Based on their Shadows, what unique skills would other characters have? For example, I would love to see Madarame's.