#they do not know how to speak just one language so they just bastardize every language they speak

[jiangyanlissidepiece]

Mal, after dropping something: FUCK

Fairy Godmother: Language?!

Mal: that was english. I think

[benedictscanvas]

stop looking at me like that - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a lot of language, of course, and some very slight allusions to smut

a/n: and we're right back with a roy version! i didn't intend to write both, but the lovely @ironmanmagnetfridge sent in an ask to try a roy version of 'saved you a seat' and i couldn't refuse. i loved writing this, so thank you endlessly for the request and my ask box is currently very open for more roy or jamie requests in particular! <3

---

“We saw a windmill!” Jamie announces loudly, to which the whole coach cheers, yourself included. It was nice to see him so happy as he bounded down the aisle high-fiving everyone in sight. Roy may have sounded as grumpy as ever when he’d boarded the coach moments beforehand, but when he sank into the seat next to you near the back, you could definitely see the hint of a smirk on his face that he’d never admit to.

“Good night?” you asked him teasingly, only to hear him growl as he turned to you.

“Thought I said not to fucking ask?”

“I’m not asking, I’m inferring,” you hummed, undeterred by the attitude you’d become so used to, “You don’t have to confirm or deny anything. I’m glad you had a good time.” “You’re very fucking presumptuous, has anyone ever told you that?”

“You have. Many times,” you supply, grinning up at him and grateful for the fondness in the eye roll that you just managed to catch, “You like windmills?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and when he does, his voice is even lower, gruffer than before somehow.

“Fucking love ‘em.”

You nod, satisfied, and settle back into your seat to watch the boys fool about. They manage to get a song going, and you join in quietly albeit happily. When the same song dissolves into a chant that Dani seems to be leading in Spanish, you bow out and instead pull out your laptop to catch up on the vital emails you knew you’d missed during your time abroad.

“Do you ever stop fucking working?”

“Hey, you chose this seat,” you reminded him, still unsure why he’d chosen to sit next to you when there were a few empty seats he’d passed on the way. The thought made you a little too nervous to dwell on it though, “You should have known better than to sit next to the workaholic.”

“If I hadn’t sat here, I couldn’t do this,” he said simply, gently taking your laptop from your lap despite your protests and attempts to snatch it back. He held it over his head to the seat behind him and Rebecca caught on quick, taking it from him without a word. You pouted at him, then turned to glare at her through the gap between your seats.

“Rebecca! You know preventing the director of your charity foundation from working is probably a pretty shit idea?”

“I literally brought you with us for you to take a mandatory break,” she said firmly, “So fucking take it!”

She muttered something about you being a nuisance then went back into the dreamy trance she’d been in since she entered the coach, your laptop safely tucked away behind her. You sat back in your seat with an exaggerated huff.

“Being childish won’t help anything,” Roy reminded you, although he was definitely teasing you now if the light in his eyes was any indicator. You turned your glare on him, but soon relented, sinking back into your seat.

“You’re a bastard,” you say instead of replying.

“Yes, and…?”

You hesitate. He’s so annoying when he’s right. You’ve always hated him for it, particularly how effortlessly attractive he looked when he was gloating.

“And thank you. Happy now, you prick?”

“Very happy. Now we can talk on a coach journey like civilised fucking people rather than you having your fucking head buried in work every second.”

That one hit more of a nerve. Funnily enough, Roy had also found the seat next to yours on the coach from Richmond to Amsterdam, but you really had been preoccupied by your laptop then. Possibly the only time you’d spoken to him was to ask to squeeze by to get to the shitty bus bathroom. You had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I wasn’t the best seatmate last time, was I?” you said, “I am sorry about that, actually. When I’m planning these school visits, they often get a little all-consuming.”

“Don’t fucking apologise for all the fucking good work you do. Christ, that would make me a proper bastard. I saw some of the stuff you were doing on our way out and it’s important. Doesn’t mean you can’t take a fucking break, you know?”

You so want to take his obvious compliment in a cool, effortless way but you can already feel yourself getting hot.

“You were spying on my work?”

“Course I was. It’s a boring fucking bus and my seatmate wasn’t fucking talking to me,” he said, although this time he nudged you gently to let you know he wasn’t really annoyed, “I meant to say, put me down for the next school visit, will you? I know you’ve probably got enough, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. You’re always surprised by how often Roy wants to be involved in what you do, but you shouldn’t be. He’s such a thoroughly good man wrapped up an unsuspecting exterior. You hadn’t asked him because he’d done the last four visits, but maybe you should have.

“I would put your name down, but some prick stole my laptop,” you said, teasing him this time. You finally managed to get a smile out of him, however brief, as he shook his head at you, “I’m kidding. Thank you. I should have asked, but I didn’t want to bother you. I’ll make sure you know about them from now on.” “Good,” he confirmed, a single nod of his head, and then a few moments later - “You don’t fucking bother me by the way.”

“Not even when I’m trying to work on my mandatory holiday?” you joke, and he just grunts, so you’re forced to continue more sincerely even though it isn’t in your nature, “I’m guessing that might be why you chose to sit with me yet again even though I proved to be shit last time. Tell me if not, or I’ll end up being flattered.”

Yes, you loved bantering back and forth with Roy, but there was some hidden truth, some vulnerability behind your words. You were desperate to know why Roy had chosen to sit with you not once but twice, when he had plenty of people on this coach that he was close to. The two of you had become firm friends, you liked to think, over the past year or so, but there was a spot next to Isaac he could have taken, or with Ted, Beard and Rebecca at the very back. Part of you needed to hear what exactly had driven him to sit next to you, so you could eliminate the tiny hope at the back of your mind that maybe he thought about you as much as you thought about him.

“I don’t fucking know,” he started, but you knew him well enough to know that was his typical response when he was trying to work out what to say, “You’re…you know. We’re…fuck.”

And he stopped there. For some reason, you were speaking before you thought about it.

“We’re fucking, did you just say? Could’ve let me know.”

You didn’t know what made you say it, but the way Roy’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, you decided it was worth whatever awkwardness it might create in him. You burst out laughing at his expression, biting your lip to try to curtail it but not succeeding. At your reaction, he seemed to calm a little, and there was even a little huff that sounded almost like a laugh from him.

“You’re fucking awful, you are. I was trying to say something fucking nice about you and you fucking ruined it.”

He was kidding, but you could tell he also wasn’t. Matching his energy, you leaned in to him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“No, don’t let me ruin it! Go on, say it anyway,” you almost begged, wondering if any of this was working or if he’d get up and walk away from you to another seat any minute. You vaguely realised how vigorously your heart was beating, “Say it!”

“Fucking hell, fine! Stop looking at me like that,” he insisted lowly, and you made a point of schooling your face into a serious expression, “Sometimes, you’re…fun to fucking be around, I guess. I like being wi- around you.”

You caught his slip. He liked being with you. If you ran away with what that one might mean, you might not recover. 

“High praise. I like being around you too. You know that’s a normal thing to say to your friends, right? It shouldn’t be quite that hard.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re fucking great at all this emotional stuff though aren’t you? You run a fucking charity, Y/N. Some of us have to…work at it.”

He was being serious, so you turned down the teasing. If he was willing to work on being a bit more emotional with you, you’d do anything to keep that going. He’d also just complimented you again and you hadn’t complimented him back once, which wouldn’t do at all.

“Yeah, I know. You’re actually fucking killing in that department recently, and you know it, so give yourself some credit,” you insist, watching a shadow of surprise cross his face. He nods, but you get the feeling he’s still trying to convince himself.

“Got you to fucking thank for that. You’re a good influence. On fucking all of us.”

“You keep saying all these nice things about me, Kent, and I’m going to be really fucking flattered,” you say, trying to downplay the impact you might have had on him, on the team, “You know it’s that cowboy back there doing the real heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, he’s fucking insufferable with it, isn’t he?” Roy agreed, “But me specifically then. The last year or so, I’ve been fucking better, and Ted’s been here three years.”

He wasn’t lying. He had been getting better and better with his emotions, with talking to people, with ensuring the people in his life that mattered knew just how much they mattered. This was about the third time in a month that Roy had suddenly gone a spree of complimenting you, and although it made you significantly uncomfortable, you couldn’t pretend you weren’t over the moon about it.

“You’ve made me more assertive, I think. So let’s call it even.”

“No.”

“No?” you questioned.

“No. You were fucking assertive before, you’re just trying to fucking deflect,” he said firmly, in the typical Roy Kent brand of caring in an angry tone, “I”m thanking you, so just fucking say you’re welcome and we can stop talking about this.”

You hesitated, but finally got up the courage to reach over and squeeze his hand as you replied.

“You’re welcome, then.”

You didn’t let your hand linger, no matter how much you wanted to, bringing it back into your lap and trying to ignore the sparks that slid across your fingers and flickered in the pit of your stomach. You watched Roy’s hand flex where you’d just held it, but he was staring straight ahead.

There were a few tension-filled moments of silence before he spoke up again, still staring at the seat in front of him like he was scared to look at you.

“Would you like to go to dinner when we get back?” he asked, in a voice that sounded like he had rehearsed the syllables. Your heart rate spiked, but you forced it to come back to earth again. He could just be anticipating how hungry he’ll be when you’re back, wanting some friendly company for the evening.

“Uh, sure, I love dinner,” you say, then want to smack yourself for how stupid that sounded, “What do you fancy?”

He growls, looking like he’s about to tear his hair out and you wonder what you’ve said wrong.

“You, alright? I fucking fancy you.”

You pause. Staring at him while he refuses to look at you. Your voice comes out breathy and disbelieving.

“For dinner?”

“No, I don’t want you for-” he growls and punches the seat in front of him, hard. Colin yelps but then starts a train of it, punching the seat in front of him with a laugh until it travels all the way down the bus. You would giggle if you weren’t worried about the man beside you. He takes a deep breath, then speaks:

“I’m inviting you to dinner because I like you. The dinner is the least fucking important thing in this scenario. I can’t have another fucking conversation with you where I’m fucking hinting every two seconds that I like you, and you’re sat there just looking at me like you do, fucking oblivious. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I do. Want to. And want you.”

You stare at him in delighted shock. Yes, Rebecca had told you that the man wanted to ‘shag the bloody daylights out of you’ and that you should ‘just look at the way he looks at you, for fuck’s sake’, but you’d never believed her. And even if you could wrap your mind around Roy being attracted to you, you could never have predicted him actually wanting to take you for dinner. It made him infinitely more attractive as you stared up at him.

“I’m done now,” he said, voice a little strangled, “Your fucking turn. Please.”

“Yes,” you said, taking a leaf out of his book. You were elated when he finally looked at you, confused. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

“Yes?”

“Yes to dinner. And to the rest of it,” you grin and have never appreciated one of his rare grins more when it’s fully focused on you. Still, there’s no way you can leave this as a serious moment alone, so you put on your best Roy Kent voice and narrow your eyes, “I fucking fancy you too.”

He actually laughs, a proper one, shaking his head as he chuckles. You join him in it, of course, ignoring the shocked look that Jamie was giving you from a few seats ahead at the sound of Roy’s laugh. When you’d finished laughing, not knowing what to do with yourself, you punch his arm lightly. It’s giddy and genuine.

You think he’ll punch you back, but instead he grabs your fist and maneuvres your hands until your fingers are intertwined and your hands rest on the seat between the two of you. It only makes your grin wider, and you know you’re staring at him again even though he’s back to refusing to look at you. You think it’s because he’s trying to hide his smile, but you can see it. It’s all you can see.

“Stop fucking looking at me like that,” he says gruffly and you laugh as you turn to stare out of the window instead, grinning out at the landscape whizzing by. 

Roy squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐄! ❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yuuji megumi gojo nanami n choso ☆ how jjk men act when they have a crush on you!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader, black coded but anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: ahhh the comeback post!! let's just say my old works were...less than coherent. but im here and ready to slay the day after 2-ish years!! take these crumbs while i try and find my footing again. stay hot lovies 🎀🎀

yuuji itadori 🌸

my babyyy (sob sob) yuuji would def try to impress you with his athleticism, bc girls like that stuff right? (gojo told him that...save him)

he frequently challenges you to friendly competitions when sparring to showing off his skills.

he def let's you get quite a few hits on him and he may even let you win from time to time (seeing your smile makes getting knocked on his ass worth it)

he might act a bit bashful, but he's straightforward. he knows he has a crush on you so why would he hide it?

expect nice gestures like him wanting to carry things for you, buying you food, watching all your fav movies, ect.

speaking of which, movie hangouts!!!

every friday usually you, megumi, nobara, and yuuji all get together and watch a movie

buuuttt if he's feeling especially brave he'll invite you to his dorm to watch the newest movie in your favorite series! (yes, he keeps track of when they come out)

he loves that it becomes y'alls thing and he loves it even more when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off &lt;;33

he also gives hella compliments cause something in my gut says his love language is words of affirmation.

anticipate many "isn't [name] just the coolest?" or "you look great today [name]!"

im telling you he could never run out of nice things to say to you, whether it be about your looks or personality

as soon as he realizes he likes you he takes down those pin up girl posters in his dorm

he also obviously thinks you're more beautiful than jennifer lawrence argue wit ur mama

he is also obviously a personality over looks guy so dont act surprised if you see him looking at you with a lovesick grin if he catches you doing something kind for someone

expect him to confess his feelings sooner rather than later

"yeah, why wouldn't i have a crush on [name]? shes beautiful and badass! but don't tell her, okay?"

megumi fushiguro 🌸

megumi, unlike yuuji is quite reserved, even with his friends

honestly gives no indication that he likes you at all 💀💀 he stares at you pretty intensely at first (to admire your beauty) but quickly catches on that you think its weird..

once you two get closer though, megumi would frequently express his crush through small gestures

he strikes me as a reader so i can see him recommending his favorite books to you or even lending you some of his.

you two exchange books often and he highlights quotes that remind him of you

i can also see book shop hangouts where you two sit and read together in some small bookshop he found in the city.

(he's just admiring you read)

he's not a huge compliment/affirmation guy but quality time is a big one for him

whether it be on missions, sparring, or out with the rest of the first year's, he enjoys any time he can have with you.

megumi is also very protective but like...subtly

he secretly watches out for you during missions, making sure you're safe without drawing attention to it

he'll insist you two split up but send one of his divine dogs to accompany you to wherever you go.

even when you're out and about in tokyo he always likes to stay close to you. he follows you around (not in a creepy way more like a lost puppy way)

follows you into stores you like even if he has absolutely no interest.

all in all he's just a shy guy who's whipped for you &lt;3

"i enjoy spending time with you. a lot."

teen!satoru gojo 🌸

gojo...you bastard...(affectionate)

erm ngl i can def see him being a bully to you at first...

not like a bully bully but he def teases you a lot and it gets under your skin sometimes. (you hate him)

but in reality hes jus a spoiled litte rich boy in love.

once he realizes his feelings he still pokes fun at you sometimes, but tones it down hard and turns on his charm.

gojo's approach is confident and playful. he teases you, always with a charming grin, creating a dynamic that keeps things lighthearted and enjoyable.

he'll find excuses to spend time with you, whether it's offering to train together

unlike yuuji he doesn't care if he likes you this son of a gun will NOT let you win istg

it's like he's trying to rile you up, saying ridiculously cheesy one liners as he dodges all your attacks.

"thats the best you got? oh [name], we'll never get to be together if i keep beating you!"

one thing he does enjoy doing with you however, are snack runs.

gojo is a big back in disguise with too much money to spend so you already knows most of that goes towards food.

he has a huge sweet tooth so i can see you guys browsing multiple sweets shops in the city. if he sees you even look at something for too long he'll buy 10 of them.

every trip you guys both leave with full bellies and full hearts &lt;3

gojo wants to be around you, and he makes sure it's fun for you both

his confession is likely to be straightforward. ccompanied by his trademark smile and his sparkling blue eyes peeking from his shades.

"you know, i've been thinking... i'm kind of into you. what do you say we make things a bit more interesting?"

teen!kento nanami 🌸

my emo boy ❤️‍🩹

nanami, with his composed demeanor, expresses his feelings (though you were unsure if he even had any) through thoughtful actions.

he remembers every. single. detail. of anything you say to him.

your favorite attist dropped an album today? he already bought you the cd/vinyl. you never got a chance to go to the store to get your favorite snack? he went 2 days ago.

he revels in the fact that he knows so much about yousnd the surprised look on your face gets him every time.

(haibara claims he's seen nanami smile at you multiple times but he vehemently denies it.)

despite his serious appearance, he'll occasionally crack dry jokes when it's just the two of you

look at that man and tell me he doesn't have a dry sense of humor 😭😭

you help him to relax and he feels he can truly be himself around you. when you two are alone its like hes showing a different side to his personality.

like megumi, i can see quality time being a big thing for him since attending jujutsu high leaves him quite busy

hes also not a huge talker so whenever you two do spend time together its probably somewhere intimate like your dorm or the library.

no words, just vibes. which he appreciates since he's around a bunch of yipper yappers all day.

nanami's confession is understated but sincere.

"i appreciate the time we spend together. it's made me realize there's something more i feel..."

choso kamo 🌸

my babyyyy no. 2 (i need him biblically)

let's get one thing straight tho. choso is a curse. in my opinion curses have no idea of love in a healthy, positive way so let's just say bb is confused.

he obviously knows what love is. he loves his brothers but he doesnt wanna kiss them...and cuddle them...

he goes to yuuji for advice (was it a bad idea? perhaps.)

"bro you totally have a crush on [name]!"

"a crush?"

after some further investigation hes pretty much got the gist of it.

one thing he becomes quite fond of doing is giving you small gifts from his missions.

these aren't typic gifts persay, like food, clothing or jewelry but more like knickknacks such as shells or rocks.

these tokens become a way for him to express what words might fail to convey.

i headcannon choso likes nature documentaries and after seeing that penguins mate for life by gifting a rock to their mate he's hooked.

idk but i also feel like he's very touchy.

he always has an eye on you in public and ik he does the thing where he guides u with his hand on the small of your back or he locks pinkies with you UGHHHH

with him being protective, he also subtly keeps an eye on you during missions.

he's not one to voice his concern directly but prefers to ensure your safety from the danger.

choso's confession might catch you off guard, but it's filled with honesty and sincerity.

"i've found myself caring about you more than I expected. it's strange..."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ omg i actually really like this...(watch me hate it in a week) but reqs are open!! i have 1 or 2 more pieces planned to get me in the swing of things but take this before then. love y'all!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

[disillusioneddanny]

Crackling Flames and Humming Electricity

Prompt courtesy of @stealingyourbones Jason gets his neck sliced by Bruce’s batarang. It irreversibly damaged his vocal cords.

Pros: He can still use ghost speak

Cons: None of his family knows ghost speak (as it’s sounds aren’t for living men to understand)

It had been an accident when it happened. That’s what Bruce had said anyway. He had been so focused on saving Joker from being killed by Red Hood that he hadn’t even realized what he had done to his son . That he had permanently disabled Jason in a way that could never be repaired.

The slice to his throat had destroyed his vocal chords. He hadn’t been able to say a single word in over a year now. After a year of vocal therapy, Jason had learned how to do these strange chirps and growls, these weird noises that didn’t seem to come from his throat at all but moreso his very being let out the noises. The only problem was that no one understood what he was saying.

Cass had been a blessing and had taken the time to teach Jason how to successfully sign. She had taken it on as her mission as the only other person in the family who was mute to make sure that Jason could effectively communicate.

He hadn’t been back at the manor since the accident, hadn’t been around Bruce since it happened. But each of his siblings had come to check on him, they checked in on him every so often and they had even managed to develop their own way of understanding the strange rumblings that came from Jason’s body that were now his only form of vocal communication.

A chirp meant that he was happy.

Two chirps was a yes.

A short growl was no.

A long snarling growl? He was pissed and you better leave him the fuck alone.

It wasn’t the best, but it worked when they spoke with him on comms. They couldn’t understand any of the other noises that came from Jason, the wails, the crackling of fire that somehow espaped him sometimes. A sound that could only be described as the sound of smoke itself slipping through the air. They were sounds that didn’t have names, there were no true words to describe the noises that would come from Jason at times.

His family tried. Oh his siblings desperately tried to understand this new way of communication with their brother but none of it was effective. No one truly understood him anymore. Not even Cass could always understand what Jason was trying to explain in his broken sounds and strange chirps.

That had all changed one fateful day, though.

Jason had gone to pick up a coffee from the only functioning shop in Crime Alley. It had just opened a few weeks before and he had been meaning to try it out. Wanted to see the brave bastard willing to open up such a pretty coffee and tea shop in the middle of Crime Alley of places. Something had been tugging at Jason’s gut about the place, almost as though it was calling Jason here, like he needed to be at the coffe shop.

Seriously, though, as he inspected the layout, it looked like the kinda place to be opened in one of the fancier neighborhoods in Gotham, not Red Hood’s home.

Red Hood had managed to keep his operations running even after the accident. If anything, it had made his people even more loyal to him. Those closest even taking the time to learn sign language just so that they could communicate and translate. They had all seen the way he had tried to take down Joker, only for the fucking Batman attempt to murder him just to save the very man who tormented the people of Gotham. Of course, the people of Crime Alley were more commonly his victims, less likely to be noticed if they were murdered, less likely to be taken seriously.

So it had come as a personal offense to all of them when Red Hood had been nearly killed. They had all respected Red Hood even more after it had happened, realizing that not only had he gone against the bat, but he had done it and lived out of pure spite.

Jason slipped through the door of the shop, Phantom’s Oasis it was called and looked around. Dark black metal chairs and tables lined the walls, Boston ivy grew along the charcoal grey walls. Any parts that were not covered by ivy were covered by bookshelves overfilled with books. And while tables and chairs lined the walls, comfy, overstuffed chairs filled the corners with small coffee tables, the middle of the area sat large velvet green couches. It was like it was the perfect oasis for Jason.

He made it up to the back counter where a single employee stood cleaning the counter. He was young, probably just a year or two younger that Jason. He was tall and lanky with deep black hair pulled back in a pony tail, showing off the shaved sides of his head. Cosmic themed earrings hung from his lobes and cartilage and when the man glanced up, Jason was also surprised to find a ring on either nostril in the man’s nose along with a septum piercing. For all that his looks screamed edgy, though, he exuded nothing but safety and warmth. Something in Jason’s very being ached to be close to the man.

Unable to stop himself he released a soft sound, the sound of walls breaking under strong flames. The man’s head shot up and he smiled at Jason before releasing a sound of his own.

It was the sound of the stirrings of a storm. Hello, it said. How are you?

“You know what I’m saying?” Jason asked, only the words came out in the sound of a roaring flame, those of a bonfire finally growing higher and higher. He signed the words as well causing the barista to grin in response.

“Of course I do, we’re the same,” he explained through sounds of a building creaking against harsh winds.

A childlike peel rang from Jason’s mouth unable to stop himself. It was the laughter of a child who thought Robin was magic. The laughter of someone who had finally found someone who understood him.

“How?” Jason asked, tilting his head to the side, his heart racing.

The barista smiled and a single black painted finger nail beckoned him closer.

In English the man whispered in Jason’s ear once he approached. “Because just like you, I died wrong and came back wrong,” he murmured before he pulled away and took in Jason’s form. “It’s why you were drawn here.”

Smoke crackled in the air showing Jason’s curiosity, his confusion.

The barista smiled. “You don’t know what you are, do you?” after a shake of Jason’s head the man smiled. “Jason Todd, you are an extraordinary being that is both of life and death. A being that has lost more than he ever gained but continued on stubbornly, refusing to back down. You were called to Phantom’s Oasis because your core heard my ghost speak and like calls to like.”

Ghost speak? Is that what the sounds that escaped Jason were? A language of those who had died and come back wrong? Or didn’t come back at all judging by the name. The sound of fire crackling filled the empty coffee shop.

“I’m Danny, by the way. Now, what would you like to drink? I can make it real quick, close up shop and we can talk.”

The crackling of a sparkler escaped Jason’s being causing Danny’s noseto wrinkle in amusement. “You’ve got yoursel a fire core, huh?”

Pops and crackles slipped from Jason, showing his curiosity.

“Order first, then I’ll answer your questions,” Danny said in the form of the sounds of electricity crackling through the air.

Jason frowned and started to sign his order only for Danny to push his hands down. “Use your words,” he said quietly. “I’ll understand.” The sounds that came from Danny were reminiscent of an old generator turning on for the first time in years, the electricity hummed the words out for Jason to understand.

Rustling and crinkling of a fire’s flames going out sounded throughout the room. “Vanilla late with sweet cream,” it said to Danny.

The hum of white noise came through in response, telling him that Danny understood as he got to work. He waved a hand causing Jason to look back as the door to the shop locked itself.

“I’m a halfa,” Danny told him through the sizzling of lightning that had just hit the earth. “You are what feels like a revenant. Someone who died a brutal death and came back to seek revenge. You have someone we ectoplasmic entities call a core.”

Jason listened as Danny spoke in sounds of crackling electricity and quiet hums of white noise as he explained ghost cores to Jason. Ghost cores were their very being, they were created in result of the person’s death. In their examples, Danny had died by electocution, it was why his ghost speak sounded like electricity coursing in the air and lighting crackling angrily and wildly. He didn’t need Jason to confirm before he had said that the revenant had died in a fire of some sort. He explained that all ghosts had the basic chirps and growls for ghost speak but that the rest was specific to their cores as they were all different.

It wasn’t Jason making the noises that came out of him but his very core himself. For the first time in a year, though, Jason was finally able to speak to someone without sign, to use his words to explain what happened to him, the pain he had gone through when realizing that his father would rather kill him than let him get revenge. He had finally found someone who understood the ache of not being able to exact revenge on the person who had killed him.

For the first time in Jason’s life, he had finally found someone who understood. Danny had sat there drinking his own London Fog as he listened to Jason’s tell. Responding in chirps, whistles and a gentle hum of running appliances. He gave insight and advice, had even given Jason his number explaining that yes, they could use ghost speak over the phone as well.

He had never felt so seen in all of his life.

Maybe that explained why he kept coming back to the coffee shop. Every day he would come, order his coffee, using a language that just he and Danny knew and curled up on a couch and read for hours, feeling at peace in a way he hadn’t experienced since he had died.

Maybe it explained why he went out on a limb and asked Danny on a date, demanding that the halfa come over to his place for dinner.

Of course, Danny had only agreed if Jason promised to make the halfa’s favorite. The night had quickly ended with their cores singing for one another as their legs tangled together under the safety of Jason’s blankets.

Rustling and crackling of a candle flame sounded through the room as electricity hummed along with it, creating a symphony of white noise that Jason loved more than anything in the world. The noises provided a sense of comfort and safety unlike anything he had ever experienced. He wanted to drown in the sounds, drown in the sounds of Danny’s crackling electricity that whispered promises of happiness and safety. Just as the whispering flames of Jason’s core told Danny stories of love and promises of companionship, holding him close, wrapping around him in a warm comforting blanket.

The air crackled around Jason as he stood in the kitchen quietly making breakfast, revelling in the feeling of Danny surrounding him from all sides.

His fire chirped at the halfa in curiosity. One or two it asked him.

Two, electricity said with a charged hum, thin arms snaked around Jason’s waist.

“I think you’re going to have to invite me over more often,” lightning crackled, a crash exploding from Danny in a way that made Jason shiver in delight.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you leave,” fire roared, flames licking high in the air, causing wood to shatter and break under the heat. Danny just chuckled and kissed the side of his neck softly.

Electricity flowed from Danny along with a series of chirps, whistles and growls, telling Jason he had no problem with staying by Jason’s side.

[braxlrose]

i read your tom kaulitz weird and silly headcanons and i can't stop laughing 😭 wtf it's 4 am.. anyway will you do the same headcanons only with bill, pretty please?🤭 i know one hundred percent that this little bastard isn't so innocent what he looks like.. i'm sure he's as dirty as Tom 😭 btw sorry engilsh is not my first language ☠️ Greetings from Poland!!:)

(his skirt is so cute?!?)

Cześć jeszcze raz! Rzadko spotykam Polaków, więc cieszy mnie możliwość ćwiczenia języka polskiego!

also his skirt is super cute omg

silly and weird bill headcanons

cw: mentioned oral(f and m!recieving), making out, nipple play?, etc

-you are completely right, this mf is far from innocent 💀 tom is seen as the dirty minded one but this little shit would make the most dirty fucking jokes every and then act all innocent LIKE BITCH

-he's also passive aggressive. like very passive aggressive. pookie can't help it 😪

-the first time you, him and tom all got high together he got super paranoid and thought that you guys were all just figments of a dog's imagination

-when you guys are spooning, he reaches underneath your shirt and cups your boobs. it helps him fall asleep quicker apparently

-but sometimes when he's feeling like a little shit, he'll tweak and pull at your nipples and you have to slap him away. so then you make him promise not to do it again. spoiler alert. he does it again 😐

-hes an impatient mf so the amount he's burned his tongue after heating up a pop tart 😒 like bitch..just wait the two fucking minutes

-he loves kissing your temple and your forehead

-during the winter, if his hands are cold he asks if he can put his hand in your pants. 💀 like that's his exact words. "Can I put my hand down your pants?" he says it's because you're warmer down there than he is, but I think it's just cuz he's a dirty minded little fuck

-when cooking marshmallows over the fire, it's a 50/50 thing. Sometimes he's super patient and will wait and make his marshmallows a crispy, perfect golden brown color and other times he gets to lazy and will just shove it in the fire.

-he also thinks it's like the coolest thing in the entire world when his whole marshmallow is on fire

-he didn't know how to snap until he was like 16 and always got mad whenever tom could do it 😭

-he was super happy when he realized that he was the taller twin bc tom was allllwayyss talking about how he was 10 minutes older.

-YOU GUYS GOT MATCHING TATTOOS

-he literally loves getting matching tattoos with you, he thinks it's so cute and fucking loves it. somehow he convinced the both of you to get some dumb ones 💀

-when you two were little kids he used to beg the teacher to make you, him and tom partners. lil bro would get down on his knees

-speaking of getting down on his knees, the first time he went down on you he "accidentally" 🤨 bit your clit. I still say he did it on purpose though

-you guys know that thing that Gomez does with Morticia when she reaches her arms to the side and he kisses from her finger tips to the other finger tips? yall know what I'm talking about? WELL BILL DOES THAT

-he likes to sleep naked sometimes. because it's "better for sleeping" but I think it's just because he wants to sleep next to naked you.

-almost drowned tom at the pool 💀...multiple times

-him and tom make you sit by the pool and then make you tell them who's cannon ball was better. and this isn't just a like 16 yr old boy thing. they do this at 33 too.

-bill once stood up upside-down on a keg and drank it 😧. not the whole thing but it was super crazy. you later found out it was because tom didn't think he would do it

-he once jerked off in class and found a way so nobody would notice him EXCEPT YOU 😨 MF YOU WERE TRAUMATIZED

-he also doesn't know how to lock a door. so you'll just walk in and he'll be jerking off, or you'll turn a corner in his house and he'll be jerking off, you go to use the bathroom and he'll be jerking off. "I'm a teenage boy it's what we do!" BRUH GET A HOBBY

-if you don't know german, he'll randomly say dirty stuff to you in german. BUT THEN PROCEED TO GET MAD AT TOM IF HE TEACHES YOU BAD WORDS IN GERMAN 🙄

-he loves sitting in your lap when making out. like obviously he loves it when you sit in his lap, but he LOVES when he gets to sit on top of you and kiss you

-the first time he tried to give you hickies, he wasn't completely sure how to and ended up biting you 💀

-he's not a morning person, we all know this. so if you want to get him out of bed, you will have to drag him out by his feet.

-his dick is big. we all know this, but the first time you tried to give him oral, he accidentally slapped your face w/ his dick 😭

ANYWAYYSSS TY SM FOR THE REQUEST POOKIE I HOPE MY POLNISCH WASNT TOO BAD

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles

[jamespottersdaisy]

Sweet Nothing

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more."

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.

based on a request

content- fluff, sickness, hurt/comfort?, established relationship.

3.2k

author's note- this is actually several blurbs put into one fic, no use of y/n, english is not my first language so beware <3

You feel a hand on your lower back, guiding you through the throng in the Quidditch Pitch to the castle. Raising your head, your eyes catch Remus's soft but rapt expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes opting for the best way to get you from the packed crowd with the least malaise.

You don't bother to speak; most probably, he won't hear you. Hell, you don't even hear your own thoughts in all this ruckus. However, you would always hear his calm and tender tone.

"This way, dove."

You let your body comply with his hand on your back.

"You guys are a menace," your disapproving timbre curls up his lips into a subtle smile, one that he tries to hide from you. "And I don't believe for a second that you had nothing to do with this."

He chuckles, his brown eyes catching yours for a moment. "I was with you the whole time, wasn't I?"

"They're not brilliant enough to think of a way of hexing the whole–" Your words are cut off when Remus pulls you to his right. You stumble from the sudden shove, feeling his tight grip on your arms.

You see a group of brooms whooshing from where you were standing only seconds before. "What are they doing?"

"Bastards," Remus mutters, agitated that they almost knocked you out.

"Your fault. You shouldn't have given them a reason to celebrate."

You know you are wrong; of course, the Gryffindor players would celebrate with or without the Marauder's prank on the opposite team. However, a little compunction wouldn't hurt. 

"It's not my fault that I'm a mastermind," Remus grins, pulling you closer by the waist. You can hear the cheerful shouts and music from afar, knowing that James is probably capering around, frisking on Sirius or Peter. 

"Should we go and celebrate with them?" you ask Remus, even though you despise the hubbub, everyone pushing and pulling others, stumbling to one another, hurting each other's toes. Who needs that? You can very well express your cheers in the common room celebrations. And Remus knows you well enough.

"No, we'll see them in the common room," he says, holding your hand tightly. "Are you hungry?"

"We just ate."

"Do you want snacks? I can get some from the kitchens if you do."

You chuckle at his tone, so soft but also pampering you. "Are you hungry? You certainly sound like you want something to eat."

"You?"

"Remus!" you elbow him, blush painting your cheeks. He laughs, a sound that manages to flutter chords in your heart no matter how many times you hear it. He brings your hand–which is entangled between his fingers– to his lips and places a tender peck on it.

"I'll bring you some chocolate from the kitchens."

That is how you know he craves chocolate.

"You two should break up."

"Come again?"

"I said, break up for a day, you're making Prongs sad," Sirius repeats shamelessly at you, going through a cookie bowl.

Remus is ambling down the stairs with a book in his hand. A book which he uses to smack Sirius on the head. He winces, scowling at your boyfriend.

"Prongs being sad is none of our business."

You let Remus sit on the sofa and put your head on his lap. Under a mere second, another hand, belonging to James, plunges into the bowl. 

"No matter what I do, Evans won't go out with me on Valentine's Day," he continues to inspect every cookie meticulously, looking for the right one. Your heart aches at the sight, and you decide that enough is enough. You snatch the bowl under his hand and lay back on Remus's lap with the cookies on your stomach. Remus smiles at the sight of you, his hand roaming through your hair.

"Stop sampling the cookies with your filthy fingers."

"They're my only comfort. Give them back," James attacks, ready to grab the bowl back, but Remus's hands stop him. He playfully swats James's hand away from the bowl. 

"She's eating them."

You grin at James, visibly smug about your boyfriend's demeanour. "I am eating them, Potter."

"You haven't touched them since Peter brought them from the kitchens."

"I will eat them, Potter."

You don't comprehend what happens next, or you simply don't remember. Maybe James groans and leaves your side, or Sirius starts teasing you again. Who knows? You just feel Remus's fingers tousling between strands of your hair. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper, a tiny smile adorning your lips.

"Braiding your hair," he drawls, his eyes glancing at your lips before averting back to your hair. 

"You know how to braid?"

Remus chuckles, shaking his head. "No, but I'm learning right now."

"By ruffling my hair?"

"I'm not ruffling, dove. I'm braiding."

"No, you're definitely ruffling. I can feel it."

"I'll comb them later tonight. Sounds good?" you smirk at his raised eyebrows, hearing your heart singing. Moments like this are what soothe your worries and take away the weight on your shoulders for that week. His quiet whispers and tender touch, adoring tone and smiling eyes always manage to find their path to your heart, warming it in an instant.

"Will you also bring me milk and kiss me goodnight?"

He smiles, bringing one hand to your chin. His thumb caresses the skin and journeys to your lips.

"If that's what you want."

You roll your eyes at him, taking his hand from your face in your hand. You start to fiddle with his fingers, oblivious of the beam in his countenance. You love playing with Remus's hand. They are larger than yours, as Remus enjoys pointing out with every chance he gets, but also so soft. 

Your eyes forcefully move from your intertwined hands to Remus's brown eyes. In a few seconds, your mind feels his finger resting under your chin. You gaze at him with confusion and affection as he leans in and puts his lips before yours. He doesn't kiss you, merely placing his lips inches away from yours. You know he is waiting for you. 

You smile for a moment, your warm breath hitting his lips. You know it puts him on the edge when you josh him, his breathing getting heavier, the black in his eyes widening.

But you relish it more than anything.

"Don't tease, dove," he whispers, and you can feel the anticipation in his tone.

You giggle, your smile growing against his, your fingers running through the hair on his neck. You don't torture him any more, crashing your lips to his. You let out an amused breath when you feel Remus return the kiss in a second, his hands wandering your body.

No matter how long you've been together or how many times he has kissed your lips, it is the same feeling every time. The burn in your core, the desire for more and the joy of his touch. You are too familiar with all these sensations, and yet you welcome them every time with a smile on your face.

"Get a room!"

You are familiar with Sirius's shriek, too.

Your throat burns with pain, your nose itching with an urge to sneeze, which never comes. You know for sure that you look terrible in your bed, with dishevelled hair, a red nose and swollen eyes. However, all this doesn't seem to phase Remus even a bit. 

"You're a mule."

He is annoyed and maybe slightly worried. His eyebrows are furrowed, and displeasure has gained a seat on his visage. He is staring at you with irritated eyes and a scowl beside your bed.

"And you're rude," you say, barely managing to raise your voice from a whisper. It's not your fault that your throat hurts when you talk.

"Dove, let's just go to Madam Pomfrey."

"For a cold?"

Remus groans, sitting next to you. He puts one hand on your right thigh before speaking again.

"You'll have a fever if you keep up like this."

"I'm fine, stop worrying," you say, even though you're happy that he does.

You're happy that he worries for you and cares for you. You're happy that he never leaves your side or your hand. You're happy that even though he rarely uses the words, he still manages to tell you he loves you with actions.

You don't need to hear it. You never need to hear it; Remus makes sure that you can feel it.

"You know I can't do that," he shakes his head, persistent with his efforts. "And you know I can't take care of you all by myself."

You chuckle at his words. For the last seven hours, he's been bringing you warm soup, making sure you're hydrated enough, and he hasn't let you stand up for even a second.

"You've done well so far," you smile despite the ache in your temples. "Remus, it's just cold. I'll be fine in the morning, especially with your pampering."

You don't see the point in visiting the hospital wing for a seasonal cold; it seems like overreacting. Remus, on the other hand, seems distraught seeing you in pain. He doesn't want to agree; you can see it on his face, but he agrees anyway. 

"It would help if you took a warm shower, you know."

You smile at him, knowing damn well that he wouldn't let you get on your feet without his help.

"Maybe."

Remus nods several times, immediately rising to his feet. "I'll run a shower for you."

You watch him sprint to the bathroom, and the next thing you hear is the water running. You are lucky that your roommates are not in your dorm room today. Or maybe you're unlucky that you got sick on Saturday.

You slowly start getting out of bed, your head throbbing. Remus comes back and helps you get to the bathroom. In reality, he merely follows you from place to place, as you're perfectly capable of walking. 

"You're acting like I'm a toddler," you laugh at his concern, which earns you a frown. 

"You are a toddler. Why else would you refuse to go to the hospital wing?"

"Because I'm fine," you grin, getting out of your clothes. Remus watches you, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "If you're waiting for me to ask you to join me, I'm not gonna do that."

He smirks at your tone, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I'll be there if you need me."

He leaves you alone, and you let hot water embrace your bare skin. By the end of the shower, you feel lighter and better, happy that your headache has eased a bit.

Remus waits for you in the room, and you notice that he has brought you another soup. 

"How many times do I have to drink that?" 

"Enough times for you to get better," he pushes the blanket on top of you when you lay down on the bed. "Cooperate a bit."

He takes the soup bowl in his hand and lifts the spoon. You grimace at the steam rising from the spoon.

"I'd rather not drink–"

"Open wide, the train is coming," he pushes the spoon to your lips.

"Remus!" you pull your head backwards, laughing involuntarily. "It's hot!"

"You haven't even tasted it."

"I can see from the steam."

"Fine," he groans, huffing at the spoon. "It's good now, come on."

Now that you're out of the excuses, you comply with him. Still, you pull a face when your tongue meets with the soup, albeit it is delicious. 

"It can't be that disgusting, dove."

"It is," you lie when Remus offers you another spoon, a bit of liquid dripping from your lips to your chin. 

"Let me see," he says, and before you can deny it, his lips are already on yours. 

You let out a disapproving sound from deep in your throat, even though your stomach tingles at the feeling of Remus's soft lips on yours. He pulls back an inch, but still close enough for you to feel his warm breath. 

"It was delicious," he mocks. "Liar."

"You're gonna be sick, baby," you whisper, your lips smiling a bit. 

He kisses you again, this time quicker and shorter than before. "You'll take care of me."

And you will take care of him the next morning because he definitely will be sick.

You don't feel your legs, nor do you remember how you got to the castle yard. You're in a trance, unable to hear or feel anything as you stride to a distant tree that will provide you solidarity. Anything except the suffocating weight in your lungs and the burning urge in your throat. You want to cry. You want to drop to your knees and wail, letting tears pour down your eyes, allowing the agony to leave your heart with your every cry.

But you don't cry.

You don't cry until you know you are alone. You don't cry until you are sure that no one can see you, no one can hear you. You don't cry until you are sure that you are out of everyone's sight who will pity you if they see your tears.

It feels too much. You feel too much. You feel too much, but you don't feel enough. You never feel enough. 

You run, but you never flee. You swim, but you drown. You smile, but you cry.

The moment you see the tree, your legs give in. You fall to the ground, a cry leaving your lips. You don't scream, you don't wail. You simply welcome the tears as you sit on the ground, pulling your knees to yourself.

Your mind echoes each and every word that pulls you too deep into the ocean.

"I expected more from you."

You thought you did enough.

"It's your fault."

You thought you did the right thing.

"You'll do better next time."

You thought you did better this time.

You hear your pained sob, pitying yourself. Your nails dig into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. You want to leave a mark. You want to feel something, something other than the pain burning inside your chest. 

"Dove?"

You whine at your lover's voice, so soft and tender, afraid to startle you. You don't question how he has found you. Somehow he always does.

"Go away, Remus," your tone sounds weaker than you expect, full of agony and desperation. You don't look at his face; you don't look anywhere but your hands. 

You don't want him to see your red eyes, tear-stained face and shaking hands. You don't want him to hear your heavy sobs and breathless cries. You don't want him to pity you.

"No," he sits next to you, still a bit hesitant to touch you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Go away," you cry, "please."

"I am not going anywhere, dove," he shakes his head, his eyes glancing at your hands. He knows it may backfire, and he knows you may draw up your walls even higher, but he takes the risk. He puts his hand on yours, parting your nails from your skin. 

You scrunch up your face when he kisses the skin where your nails dig deep, ready to burst into tears once more. You lower your head, refusing to let him see your pain. 

He doesn't let you. 

"Talk to me," he pleads, holding your hand close to him. "I hate seeing you cry."

Of course, he does, you think. Why would anyone want to put up with your bawling? Why would anyone want to put up with you?

You can feel the hatred poisoning your veins, darkening the light in your heart. You know this hatred, this darkness. You know who it is aimed at. You are too familiar with its burn. You know it is going to mock your weakness and insult your very being because you know you feel that hatred for none other than yourself.

When you talk, you want to drown your voice just to never hear it again.

"I'm sorry."

You don't see Remus's confused face. You don't feel his bafflement. You only hear his loving pitying tone.

"For what?" he asks and doesn't wait for your reply. "Dove, come here."

You despise your body for betraying your mind. You abhor your heart for betraying your will. You hate your frailty when it comes to Remus.

You let him hold you close to his chest, sobbing into his touch. His hands caress your hair, his lips leaving kisses on your temple as comfort. Your body trembles under his affection, the tears staining his shirt. 

"It's alright. You're alright," his tone hugs the scarred part of your soul. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Remus, I'm sorry–"

"What for, dove? You have nothing to be sorry about," he cuts you off, feeling that you're spiralling. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me, we'll fix it together, yeah?"

You shake your head, clinging closer to his chest. This is the part you hate most. The part where the words line up against your tongue but don't know how to get out. Your feelings mock you, and you're afraid that if you talk, he will mock you, too.

Remus knows you. He has learned you well enough to know that you are struggling. He strokes your back, encouraging you to speak. 

"Come on, dove. You'll feel better," he kisses your hair.

"No, I- It's not.." you mumble something between your sobs, and Remus tries so hard to understand you. He waits, patiently giving you the time you need to organise your thoughts, all while embracing you tightly. 

"It's alright. Take your time."

You inhale a deep but shaky breath, your chest trembling from all the hiccups. You wish to speak, to share your pain with your lover, but it's just too heavy. So heavy that letters are like a burden to your tongue. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you don't know you're crying again until you feel teardrops on your hand. "I can't. This is it. This is all I got. It's not enough, I'm not enough."

"Hey, hey, hey," Remus pulls away, taking your face in his hands. "You're more than enough."

"No, no, I-I can't…I can't do better. I need to do better, I have to do better–"

Remus doesn't understand what you're talking about; your words don't make sense to him. All he knows is that your every tear is like a knife to his heart, your every sob is like a hit in the gut, and your every word is like a storm hitting his mind.

"You don't have to do anything. You're doing enough," he says, his heart clenching in pain at the sight of you. "Listen to me."

He puts his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. "Listen to me, dove."

He waits for you. He waits until your breathing calms down, your tears slow down, and your body stops shaking. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent.

"You're enough for me," he whispers, his hands still caressing your body. "I love you, and you're enough for me."

You feel the burn in your chest at ease, the burden in your tongue walking away. You feel your tears come to a halt, your soul finding comfort in his words. 

"I love you, too," you whisper back. 

"Then talk to me, and let me help you."

So, you talk. You tell him every word in your mind, every pain in your heart and every burden in your soul. You know he can't possibly solve all your problems or take away all your pain, but what he can do is always let you know he loves you, whether with his words or his actions.

I love Remus, I wish men were real.

Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!

and if you please, buy me a coffee <333

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Omae Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my post Omae: Complexity of Self-Expression and Intimacy in the Japanese “You.” In honor of it, I’m doing a follow-up post.

Why? Because I made two claims in that post:

“as far as I can tell, Izuku is the only person Katsuki has ever used the pronoun omae (おまえ) towards in-canon”

“Furthermore, he has only used omae towards Izuku on three occasions.”

I prefaced both with “as far as I can tell” because I had some doubts that Katsuki’s use of omae was exactly that exclusive, but I knew it was pretty damn exclusive, so I went ahead and wrote the meta anyway. And I still stand by my assessments of how he uses it and what those moments mean.

But I was wrong on both counts.

Katsuki has used omae towards people other than Izuku.

He has used omae towards Izuku on five occassions, as of chapter 409.

Of course, chapter 409 wasn’t released until months after I wrote my pronoun meta, but at the time of my post, I had in fact missed one pivotal omae directed at Izuku that occurs much earlier in the series.

I wanna talk about those two extra omae towards Izuku and who else he has used omae towards. Much like Katsuki, I am a perfectionist, so if I'm gonna revisit this topic, I'm gonna go all the way.

So, I went through 409 chapters and catalogued every single time Katsuki uses a second-person pronoun.

STRAP IN, BUCKOS.

An Exhaustive Analysis of Bakugou Katsuki’s Second-Person Pronoun Usage

These are all the “you” pronouns Katsuki has used in the manga. We’ll go over them one-by-one and talk about who he uses them for, when, and my thoughts on why.

First, a note about rudeness: In many languages, and certainly in Japanese, familiarity and rudeness go hand-in-hand. In dictionaries and on grammar websites, you’ll see advice about using a term only with “people above you” or “people equal to or below you.” In general, you are either talking up to someone (polite speech) or you are talking down to them (casual speech). Excluding outright derogatory language, talking down to someone is the same as treating them as your equal.

Talking up creates or maintains distance between parties. Casual speech, familiar terms, and directness are nuances that generally get introduced into relationships as they deepen. Basically, being close to someone gives you the “right to be rude” to them. To speak this way with a stranger or people who are your hierarchical “social superiors” is considered rude in part because you lack an established (or equal) relationship with them.

I mention this because I think some people are under the misapprehension that for Katsuki to show someone he cares, he would have to speak respectfully towards them—that is, talk up to them. That simply isn’t the case, and in fact such behavior might convey callous indifference instead, because switching from casual speech to formal speech with someone you have history with puts distance between you, pushing them away.

Instead, there are more nuanced ways to connect and affirm bonds. Katsuki using omae rather than temee, for example, is not him being more polite, he's just being less insulting. He is still talking down, and one could argue that by refusing to talk up to anyone, Katsuki treats everyone equally. I mean he is still a foul-mouthed little monster, but you know, at least he’s consistent about it.

Anyway, keep this “right to be rude” in mind.

As mentioned in my first post, temee is basically Katsuki’s default second-person pronoun. If he’s addressing someone directly and he isn’t using one of his mean nicknames, it is almost guaranteed to be this word. This graphic is the only one that is not exhaustive, featuring just the top three.

Temee is derogatory; it is often translated as “you bastard,” and even when it’s not, its presence encourages translators to slather a veneer of rudeness across the sentence as a whole. Unlike the other pronouns we’re going to talk about, there is basically no scenario where you could use temee and not come across like an asshole. You could use it with friends or family to joke around, but you’re still being an asshole, just a funny one.

And... can we just acknowledge the vast gulf between Izuku’s 62 and runner-up Todoroki’s 14? Obviously Izuku is the protagonist, so it makes sense that much of the dialogue we are shown from any character is about him or directed at him. But it’s also just really funny.

No single use of temee is particularly notable since it's so common, but it is obvious why these two are at the top of the list: Katsuki has a lot of scenes with them, and he considers them his rivals. As a result, they tend to throw him into a tizzy often.

Anta is a contraction of anata. If avoiding a “you” pronoun entirely is the most polite way to refer to someone, anata is arguably the next most polite way. It is considered polite towards someone of “equal or lower status,” but can seem distant—you hear it in commercials when the narrator has to address the audience, “you, the customer.”

Anta strips away that distance and expresses either familiarity or contempt, depending on how you want to read it, which makes it pretty fucking funny that Katsuki uses it for his mentor figures. It is worth noting that anta is significantly less offensive than his typical temee and arguably even omae. A normal person would never use anta towards their boss or teacher—or their lifelong idol, for that matter—because it is talking down, which puts them on your level. But Katsuki’s whole persona is built around rebellious superiority, so out of all the options, he affords All Might and Best Jeanist the least offensive pronoun he can stomach using. Essentially, “I’m not gonna be fuckin’ polite but god, fine, I’ll be LESS rude, I guess” while still maintaining plausible deniability.

I also wanna note that there are instances where Katsuki technically uses temee towards All Might and anta towards Izuku, because he uses them in the plural form to refer to both of them at once. It’s actually pretty interesting to see who is framed as the “primary subject” of his scolding based on which pronoun he uses.

Chapter 257

All Might is the one droning on and on, so Katsuki’s response pluralizes his All Might pronoun anta into antara, lumping Izuku in with him. Basically: “stop wasting my time and get to the point (and that goes for you, too, Deku).”

Here we’ve got him pluralizing temee and, between All Might and Izuku, it’s definitely more the Izuku pronoun. So this reads a little like “dammit Deku you kept this secret so badly I found out and then you swore me to secrecy but you’re STILL UTTER SHIT AT HIDING IT so you are MAKING MY LIFE EVEN HARDER (and you, All Might, don’t you fucking know better??)”

Aaaand now we’re at the good shit. Okay, let’s break it down.

Ochako

Chapter 36

Katsuki addresses Ochako with omae at the very start of their Sports Festival battle, and this is in fact the first time he addresses her personally with a second-person pronoun. It’s a great writing choice: unlike every other fight we’ve seen Katsuki in so far, he isn’t busting out his typical boisterous insults. Rather, what he says reads as a measured assessment of her as a threat, and omae contributes to this. Had he used temee, he might still have come across this way on the whole, but the use of omae as the first word out of his mouth—when the audience knows he uses temee—sets this moment apart even more.

The text of Uraraka vs. Bakugou isn't ambiguous: Katsuki takes Ochako seriously, immediately, when no one else does. This is of course a rejection of sexist assumptions about girls, but it is also because Katsuki is smart. Kaminari’s battle is the foil to this fight. Where Bakugou succeeds, Kaminari failed, having been too sexist, cocky, and just plain dumb to properly assess his opponent and the danger they pose to him.

I said in my first post that Katsuki’s omae towards Izuku immediately after Deku vs. Kacchan 2 reads as him addressing Izuku as an equal, and I would say the same is true here.

After Ochako tries to execute her plan and Katsuki accuses her of colluding with Izuku, he uses temee towards her. It’s his standard choice, of course, but the change feels a little loaded in hindsight. She might have been afforded a different pronoun once, but she quickly gets lumped into the temee pile at least partly due to Proximity To Deku.

Katsuki talks the most shit when he’s on the ropes—a strategic, cocky camouflage for his vulnerability. We know from his thoughts watching Todoroki vs. Midoriya that at this moment, he was pretty worried he was at his limit. But Katsuki also likes a good challenge, and he respects people who can give it to him, so in gearing up for the climax of this fight, he calls her by her surname.

The progression: omae + mean nickname → temee → surname.

In later scenes, he addresses her with his typical temee, which just goes to show you that Katsuki really picks and chooses his moments.

Or, as All Might put it:

Speaking of picking and choosing his moments, this next one was a delight to discover.

Jirou

Chapter 182

As with Ochako, this is the first time Katsuki uses a "you" towards Jirou personally. To be precise, what he uses is a sound-shifted variant of omae pronounced omee (written variously as おめえ, おめー, and おめぇ). We’ll talk about whether that means anything later.

This occurs during the school festival when Jirou belts her heart out suddenly. Katsuki thinks back to how the band had criticized his improvisation and her specifically telling him not to do it during the show. So he says out loud, to himself, “omee ga surun kai,” for which I think the funniest translation would be, “OH BUT YOU CAN DO IT, HUH??”

The official English translation is “hypocrite!” which isn’t bad, but yeah, he is being such a grumpy little sarcastic baby about it, it’s very funny. Just muttering complaints under his breath, with no actual ill-will attached. The fact that he uses omee reinforces the sense that this is not a serious complaint; it’s good-natured ribbing and contributes to the reader’s awareness that Katsuki likes and respects Jirou.

While Kaminari and Sero mischievously try to trick him into participating in the festival, Jirou earnestly asks for his help while acknowledging his skill.

Chapter 171

On top of outright asking "onegai" (please, but literally: "a request"), the verb construction she uses (やってくれたら, yatte kuretara) frames his participation as a favor; kureru is basically “to do for the benefit of someone else [often to your disadvantage or inconvenience].” And then she personally works her ass off to make their performance the very best it can be.

Later during the Joint Training Battle, Katsuki relies on her, uses a nickname for her (to her annoyance), and saves her. Kirishima and Kaminari both astutely comment that the festival band reinforced Katsuki’s trust in his classmates and his willingness to work with them towards success.

In this moment during the festival, Katsuki is letting Jirou shine, because each of them doing what they do best is what makes the performance a triumph in the first place.

But the boy’s still gonna be a bossy little tsundere about it.

4th Grade Bullies

Chapter 62

In Izuku’s flashback, little Katsuki uses omaera (plural form) towards the 4th graders who pick a fight with him.

You might be thinking, “Hang on, haven’t all the omae uses so far been for people Katsuki likes or at least respects? So why is he using it for these two?” And you’d be right, at least when it comes to present-day, teenage Katsuki using omae, because it’s no longer his default.

Flashbacks to Katsuki and Izuku’s childhood tell us that Katsuki’s default peer address as a kid was most likely omae, and that he switched to temee as he got older and became more of an obnoxious little shit. I emphasized in my first post that omae seems softer coming from Katsuki because it’s a departure from his normal way of speaking. The flashbacks show us a time when he was... kinda just a regular kid using language common among boys his age.

Still, there is a “cool tough guy” air to this moment, because omae can also come across as contemptuous—which is how Izuku uses it towards villains in present-day. Izuku uses boku for himself and kimi for peers, the combination of which tend to be seen as kind of soft and boyish, rather than macho and cool. Little Katsuki uses the boastful pronoun ore for himself and omae towards the bullies, who are both older and therefore technically "above" him.

So Izuku marvels at Kacchan, who talks big and tough like a grownup. Kacchan who can do anything, who stands his ground, fights to win, and invokes the heroic ideals of All Might.

Izuku

Chapter 9

The first time we see Katsuki call Izuku by his name is when we learn the origins of the nickname Deku. It also happens to be the first time we see Katsuki address someone with something other than temee. This scene shows us a glimpse of what their relationship looked like before it totally fell apart: before Katsuki nicknamed him Deku, he called him Izuku. And before Katsuki started hurling insults and screaming “you bastard” (temee!) at Izuku all the time, he used a different “you” word for him, too. Little Katsuki addressed him as a little boy would address a peer or a friend.

It made me wonder… is the aftermath of Deku vs Kacchan 2 the first time Katsuki has addressed him as an equal since they were little kids?

And, furthermore, little Katsuki uses the sound shifted variant, omee.

You might be surprised to learn that temee itself is a sound shifted variant of temae (手前, てまえ). Temae literally means “before the hand” and historically, it was a humble first-person pronoun, meaning “me, who stands before you.” Omae (お前) literally means “the one before [me],” it was historically very polite and only used for extremely high-class people. Somewhere along the way, temae became a second-person pronoun like omae, and both started to be perceived as quite rude.

Tough guy Japanese speech patterns are epitomized by sound shifts and bitten off words. Supposedly, this dialect originates in Tokyo’s historic Shitamachi area, which is characterized as rough and working class in sharp contrast to the wealthy, high class Yamanote area.

So, does omee mean something different than omae? Maybe, but not always. Does it mean something different when someone says “Thank ya” rather than “Thank you”? Or when someone says “y’all” rather than “you all”? Not exactly, but… does it feel different? It can.

Little Katsuki’s sound shift links this moment to our last example:

Chapter 409

As you acquire language, you develop a personal relationship with it informed by your experiences. More than just dictionary definitions, you gain cultural and emotional associations, and that impacts how you interpret media and other people. I don’t think anyone can say that omee definitively conveys something different than omae, but I do know that when I personally read Katsuki use it in 409, the shift feels like casual fondness. Like letting down your guard. A reassurance spoken softly. It somehow feels just a bit softer than if he had enunciated omae.

Years ago, Katsuki used it to tease Izuku about how he can’t do anything. And four hundred chapters later, he uses it to say “I won’t get in your way anymore.”

You should read pikahlua's really, really good meta about what this line means.

Whether it was intentional on Horikoshi’s part or not, I think it is a meaningful callback. These are the only two times Katsuki has ever used omee towards Izuku. It emphasizes how he has changed, yes, but it also ties in the context of his own past "uselessness" and how he has surpassed it, that he won't ever again be "a weakness others can exploit" to get to Izuku. But also, as pika says:

(And I read that he’s ready to let Izuku be the main character.)

The only other time Katsuki has used omee is towards Jirou, when he affectionately teased her for being a hypocrite while also making sure she got her time in the limelight.

And what does Katsuki think in the next chapter?

“Izuku, do your best.”

Izuku gets his time in the limelight. They each brought their own strengths to this final battle, and Katsuki has held up his end. He wasn’t a burden, he didn’t hold Izuku back—he came back from the dead, saved their hero, and took out All For One. Now Izuku has to do what he does best.

A lot of the things I said in this post simply reiterate the meaning of the text itself, and that's because the nuances in Katsuki’s dialogue support the narrative. They reinforce what the story tells us about him and his relationships, and I think that's pretty amazing.

[charliedawn]

I don't know if this has been asked before, but how would the slashers react to their favorite nurse being pregnant?

Happy New Year everyone ! 🥳🥳🥳

Jason Voorhees :

Jason *clap clap clap*

Jason was ecstatic at the news. He ran to get his favourite plushies and toys and proceeded to make a sort of shrine for the baby.

He also manually worked to make you a beautiful handmade crib and when you gave birth, he was there. He was holding your hand and it was as if he was the father as he gently sponged your forehead at the end.

Even the other nurses thought so and didn’t think twice before giving him the baby to carry. He was so surprised and happy that he didn’t let go of them until you were finally awake.

He then put the baby carefully in your arms and looked at the both of you with a loving gaze. He was maybe not the father…but you knew here and there that he would be better at it than any other man you knew…

Freddy Krueger :

Freddy waited outside when you were giving birth. Now, don’t take it personally. Freddy just knows that he’d do you more harm than good in there. So, he decided the best was to stay away and let professionals handle it.

He did spend at least two hours outside—waiting. He was nervous and thought that waiting in the hospital would bring you bad luck. But the moment it was over, a nurse came to warn him and she thought he was the father.

Next thing he knew, the nurse had dropped a pinkish fleshy tiny thingy in his arms and was out the room before he could tell her she had the wrong guy…

Finally, he then looked down at the baby and looked around before rocking it back and forth gently while walking around. He waited until you were awake before putting the child in your arms—smirking.

"That one of the ugliest lil’ bastards I’ve ever seen. Good job, sweetheart."

That’s a compliment in Freddy language.

It means congrats.

Michael Myers:

Michael stayed in the room the whole time. The moment you were brought in the hospital to the moment you gave birth. He sat down on a chair and didn’t speak a word.

But he was staring at you the whole time and the only moments he as much as budged was when you started pushing and his fingers dug in the armrests as he fought against every single impulse in his body to come help you.

He knew he had to let the staff take care of you and stayed calm as he heard you. He wasn’t the type to pass out and the staff decided to let him watch (they couldn’t move him even if they tried) It was horrifying to let you suffer, but when it was over…He was so happy when he heard the cries of the newborn.

Before anyone could stop him, he stood up and looked down at the baby with a tilt of his head.

It was…weird.

But then, his hands gently cupped the newborn and he held it as if it was the most precious thing ever. He then sat back down and cradled it in his hands with uncanny tenderness. The nurses looked at each other and wondered if they should interfere…But decided against it.

…Whoever would try to take the baby away from Myers would surely lose their hands.

Norman Bates:

Norman always wanted a baby, but he never had a good enough relationship to get one of his own, so he would be ecstatic to find out that you are pregnant. He’d be there to take care of you and make sure that you do not do anything that would compromise the miracle in your belly.

He’d prepare you delicious healthy food and hug you every day while telling you how proud he is of you and ask you if you need anything. He’d be your personal servant and bring you anything you need and be extremely cautious to anything or anyone that would put your pretty self in danger.

He’d then be the first at the hospital when you are about to give birth and hold your hand while cradling your face. He’d be doing an even better job at calming you down than the nurses.

And when you finally gave birth, he looked at the baby and smiled before one of the nurses put the baby in his arms.

"…Perfect." He uttered in a whisper as he gently cradled the baby in his arms. Norman was in awe and even kissed the newborn’s forehead. He then turned towards you and kissed your forehead.

"Wonderfully done, my little dove."

Brahms Heelshire :

Brahms was very worried.

He passed out in the hospital and the nurses had to take care of him. 😂 But, he was very happy too. A new friend to play with.

Pennywise:

Pennywise used to have 7 siblings. And his mother used to collapse in exhaustion once they were all put to bed. But she was always smiling for them and losing her was one of the darkest day in Pennywise’s life. So he’d be sure to take care of you and make you rest and eat properly. He’d be concerned, but hide it behind a mask of indifference.

Pennywise was awake during the whole duration of your pregnancy. Even when you were sleeping, he’d watch over you and the baby growing in your belly. He’d also talk to it sometimes. Just to make sure the baby wouldn’t bother you too much.

"Hey, you little human disaster. That’s a good mama you got. Don’t fuck it up."

He’d also lend you his rocking chair, knowing how exhausting it must feel to carry the baby around. Pennywise did think about eating it, but fought against it since you seemed to keen on keeping it.

And when the baby finally arrived, he smelled it and the baby actually laughed before grabbing his nose and making it squeak. And it was the first time you could see Pennywise’s face break into a genuine smile. Yeah. That baby would be safe forever…

Jack Torrance :

"A baby ? Believe me, darling. It ain’t worth it."

Jack was absent to the birth of his own child. The first time he had a child, he was drunk and wasn’t famous. Anything he wrote was just sent right back at him. But then, something miraculous happened the night his child was born.

He got inspiration. He started writing and writing until he produced a masterpiece that got him known.

After that, he stopped drinking and tried to be a good father. But then, they arrived at the hotel and everything changed. It drove him mad and he almost killed his wife and kid. And then…He died. Frozen.

When he came back, things were different. His child wasn’t a child anymore and his ex was dead. So, being a father hadn’t really been a success for him. But he still tried his best. And that’s because even though Jack denies it, he still loved his kid. And that’s the reason why he decided to be there when you gave birth.

Because even though he wasn’t there the first time, he knew just how important and precious a child is.

Him *gently cradling the baby in his arms* : "Hey, bud. Welcome to the world of the living."

Penny:

Penny had a daughter when he was still human. Kersh. He loved her with everything he had until she eventually died. So he’d be happy for you and protect you and the young one. He’d also be at your beck and call. Ask him anything and he’d get it for you.

He’d also understand your need to relax and work less, so he’d help as much as he can.

He’d also cuddle with you during your pregnancy and give you all the affection and care you need. He’d also bring toys for the baby to play with and eve take care of them when you are tired.

Penny *to the baby* : "You and I…You and I are going to be best friends. You’ll see."

Penny would quickly grow attached to the baby and be there by you side in the pregnancy room if he could, or he’d be asked to wait outside. But, I doubt he’d listen and just be with you anyway.

Father Paul :

Father Paul was happy for you. Of course. But, he was also a little nervous. He saw that you were pregnant and he knew what it meant. Maternity leave.

He was afraid of what would happen when you would be gone. The slashers seemed to hold you in high regards and he knew that the moment you were gone, everything would become chaos.

But, you quickly reassured him by making an announcement. You told the slashers they could come with you to the hospital if they wanted to. And that you’d be away for at least a month to take care of the baby. You asked them to be understanding and be good to the staff while you were gone. And surprisingly enough, the slashers agreed and behaved.

That was the moment, Father Paul got to witness just how much power you had on the slashers. And he didn’t know if he should be impressed or fear how much control you had over them.

[spacexseven]

foreigner darling crying while desperately typing into their phone because they don’t any japanese or english, etc. 1) their yandere is a bastard and fucking with them, fully knowing they don’t know the language. 2) the yandere is also struggling and they a dictionary that’s highlighted with translations. 3) the yandere didn’t think this one through and is now acting as if they knew about the barrier. - garfield anon (hello!)

(1) jouno thinks it's funny. here you were, clearly confused and trying your best to communicate with him, but apart from sobs and pleadings of 'please let me go', he can hardly make out your other words. it didn't matter, anyway. this was fine too, you just had to calm down before he could set down some ground rules. he also finds it hilarious when he's talking to you in japanese, knowing you don't understand a single thing, threatening to kill you or your loved ones or telling you about how long he's been watching you and you're just staring at him wide-eyed; isn't that expression far too cute for this?

(1) fyodor wishes you didn't cry so much. if he wanted you to cry in the corner, your phone long abandoned after he had only laughed at your pathetic attempts at trying to talk to him, then he could have done a hundred other things apart from bringing you to a nice room and taking care of you. he understands everything you're saying, of course, but still pretends not to, cocking his head to the side when you ask him why he's done this and glaring at you when you ask his name. it was a little amusing to see you second guess your every word and try to recall any words from any language you knew. only after a month of captivity, when you start, on the brink of losing your mind, telling him about your name and likes and dislikes, he smiles at you, and says "i know", clear as day. the shock on your face is his favorite expression yet.

(2) so maybe chuuya overestimated his linguistic abilities. it was fine! he had dictionaries and the internet just for this. he gets by using the resources on hand, and you're surprisingly pretty well receptive to his attempts, and even point out the words you're saying when he doesn't understand you. things were going a lot better than he thought, until one day you ask him if he can please help you escape and that he can come with you so whoever hired him won't hurt him, you promise to help, and he realizes you had no idea just why you were here. he does consider telling you the truth, but it was a lot nicer to have you trust him and stick by him, so ultimately he decides that can wait. for now, he'll go along with your silly idea.

(2) dazai thought he had all the important words covered, but now you're screaming at him so loudly that he can't comprehend a single word coming out of your mouth. he offers you the dictionary and a pencil, clearly telling you to please circle the words you're using but instead, you throw it back at him and scream some more. not knowing what else to do, he starts speaking to you in gibberish. it works, almost, because you go eerily quiet to listen to him before going back to screaming and throwing things at him (because now it sounds like he's mocking you). oh well, time to sign up for those classes!

(3) nikolai didn't think it'd be this hard to get the message across. surely, using his overcoat to transport you here was enough for you to understand that this was a kidnapping? well, he didn't understand what you were saying either, but he was mostly sure that you said the words 'money', 'who' and 'why' at least thrice now. living together when neither of you understood the other couldn't be that bad, right? he uses pictures of an amusement park and a handy app to ask you if you'd like to go out and that he will drag you back screaming if you tried to run, and the horror on your face is all he needs to know you understood him clear as day. see, not that hard!

[lackadaisicallizard]

hello! in tlg, there's a scene of reg learning hindi for james, but never one of james finding out; how do you think that went?

Ooh yes that! Them learning each other’s languages is so special to me.

Please bear with me because I don’t speak Hindi (or French), but this is how it went:

The Long Game

An additional scene

“Come on you bastard,” James shouts at the TV, his voice double the volume of any reasonable human in an enclosed area.

Regulus is sitting sideways on the sofa, leaning against the arm with his legs resting in James’ lap. He looks up from his book; even after eight months together, his boyfriend’s ability to be completely enraptured by people running up and down a field truly puzzles him.

Sure Regulus looks at the screen every now and then, but he’d be lying if he said it was for anything but the close ups of fit players in shorts.

“Are you wining?” Regulus asks.

“Not if Erling Haaland can’t kick a ball straight for once in his fucking life.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows, doing nothing to keep the smile off his face. James’ eyes are still glued to the screen, and quite frankly his whole energy right now is really rather attractive. There’s not a lot that can make James angry, and his set jaw and piercing eyes are a sight that makes Regulus want to make him forget there’s a game on at all.

He’d never do that though, he knows how much it means to the older boy, and so he makes himself content with just watching the emotions play across his face.

The other team scores a goal then and all hell breaks loose. Regulus is fairly sure he hasn’t heard that much profanity come out of one person’s mouth in his entire life.

Effie appears in the doorway then, her hands on her hips.

“James, dhang se bolo aur chillao mat. I know you’re an adult but this is still my house.”

James has the decency to look apologetic. Even with a game on, he can’t ignore his mum.

“Sorry, Mum. We’re losing.”

“Phir bhi, gaaliyan kam se kam honi chahiye, theekhe?”

James shrugs, “Main koshish karunga.”

She looks disapprovingly at her son.

“I’ll make sure he does more than try, Effie,” Regulus promises.

Effie smiles at that. “This is why you’re my favourite. Use shaitaani karne se rokna.”

“Ek namumkin kaam,” Regulus comments.

Effie laughs. “You’re not wrong there.” She gives James one last stern look before disappearing back down the hallway.

Regulus goes to read his book again but feels James’ eyes on him. He looks up to see a look of complete disbelief.

“What?”

“You just spoke to my mum.”

Regulus’ mouth twitches. “Is that not allowed?”

“Regulus.”

“Yes?”

“You understood and spoke to her in perfect Hindi.”

Regulus is properly smiling now. “Is that a problem?”

There’s a moment of silence and Regulus can almost see the whirring of James’ brain. He then splits into a wide grin, the warmth spreading to his eyes almost immediately.

“You learned Hindi for me?”

“You learned French for me.”

James shakes his head, his expression soft. “I love you so much, Regulus Black.”

The older boy puts his hands on Regulus’ knees before leaning in, waiting for him to lean forward and meet him halfway. Regulus does so gladly, his love for James warm on his lips.

“Say it in French,” Regulus says, voice low.

James’ smile is back. “Je t’aime chaque jour davantage.”

Regulus takes his hand as he speaks. “Mai tumse humesha pyaar karunga.”

“Only forever? That’s not nearly long enough.”

And Regulus kisses him, because how else is he supposed to respond to that? Especially when he agrees. Forever is not long enough to love James Potter.

As they pull apart again James speaks. “Regulus, I love you so much and you learning Hindi for me means the absolute world and we will definitely come back to this moment, but-“

“James-” Regulus interrupts and James pauses in his rambling. Regulus smiles. “You can get back to the game, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll have plenty of time later to seduce you in multiple languages.”

James takes an audible deep breath. “Fuck me, I’m so lucky.”

“Don’t forget it,” Regulus winks at him before picking up his book again, settling back down on the sofa as he does so.

“Regulus.” James asks just before his attention is once again consumed by football.

“Mm?”

“We can talk about Sirius while he’s in the room now.”

And oh, the French and the Hindi is sexy, but that suggestion? Well, that’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

[cellarspider]

The Prometheus rant.

⛬ | (Index) | (Next)

I have promised a dissection of the movie Prometheus. It begins.

So, to summarize, and give you a taste of what we're in for. 

I am a geneticist with a background in history, including some undergraduate archaeological field work. I'm deeply interested in linguistics as a hobby. Prometheus manages to be stupid in every one of these fields.

But I absolutely love H.R. Giger aesthetic, the cinematography is beautiful, and whoever did the editing was absolutely solid because the movie consistently cuts slow scenes at moments when the cuts feel just slightly jarring. It’s a very subtle way to maintain tension.

The soundtrack holds the intended tone well, the practical effects are numerous and impressive, and even though their story completely undermines it, they got an actual academic linguist to work with them on the language stuff: the guy actually has a speaking role in the film, as a virtual tutor of a reconstructed language he taught to one of the actors.

And on top of all that, there's at least one scene in the movie which is just unbelievably tense and well-executed body horror. It’s the scene everybody mentions as a highlight when they talk about the movie. So, it's a successful movie in so many ways.

But.

The writing does not back this up. There are stretches that are fine, even elevated by some of the performances. But you can feel the movie shift any time a scene has plot relevance, or a character is supposed to do their job. 

Unlike Alien, where the main cast making dumb decisions is believable because they're a bunch of space cargo haulers and maintenance people who are not supposed to have any relevant expertise for the situation they find themselves in, Prometheus' characters are supposed to be scientists, doctors, and the best a trillionaire could buy for a mission that he expected would

make first contact between technologically modern humans and a race of aliens that had visited Earth thousands of years ago

convince said aliens to give him the secret to eternal youth, because he's an old rich asshole

so when things start going wrong, I felt less like "oh no these poor bastards don't know what the fuck they're getting into" and more like "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR CONTAMINATING AN ALIEN ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITE YOU BASTARDS"

this approximately culminates in a scene where the last surviving alien on the planet is woken from two thousand years of emergency stasis, gets talked at in something very much like Proto-Indo-European by Michael Fassbender at the behest of the old rich asshole, while a woman screams in English in the background. The alien proceeds to rip Fassbender's head off and beats the old man to death with it, which is just the funniest goddamn thing

That’s the TL;DR. Yes, really.

The actual rant will start next time.  Well. Part One of the rant. This is going to be a multi-parter, because I want anyone who follows me on this journey to understand how the movie builds up into such a mess, and get some actual science out of this.

⛬ | (Index) | (Next)

[siilvan]

soap headcanons

characters: johnny “soap” mactavish

summary: general/romantic headcanons!

genre: fluff, gn!reader (no desc.)

warnings: none! :)

note: been dealing with a lot recently, so here’s a low effort fluffy headcanon post with one of my favorite boys— i know it’s bad, but i just threw it together while fighting off sleep and didn’t bother to proofread it </3

his love languages are physical touch and acts of service.

⋆ as i’ve said before, it’s no secret that soap is a touchy guy, especially with the people he likes.

⋆ that being said, a casual high-five or side hug is vastly different from the way he touches you. instead of friendly taps and sarcastic banter, there’s a certain fondness in his gaze whenever he reaches for you.

⋆ doesn’t bother hiding his favoritism. if you or anyone else comments on it, he simply shrugs off the claim and drapes an arm across your shoulders. "i think you’re just jealous of 'em," is what most people hear after bringing it up.

⋆ big on acts of service as well!! soap loves doing things for you, no matter how big or small it may be. never demands acknowledgement or repayment for his acts, either - your comfort and happiness are his top priorities.

⋆ getting up early to surprise you with breakfast in bed, running to the store when you need something, handling the household chores so you can sleep in… soap takes every chance he can get to help out.

⋆ if you’re both in the 141, he revels in getting to do things for you while in the field, even after price and ghost chastise him for focusing on you too much. if you’re a civilian, however, soap can’t help but feel guilty every time he leaves you. knowing that you’ll potentially be without him for months, worrying and wondering when he’ll return, having to do everything on your own; the mere thought of it makes him hold you that much tighter every single night.

when he loves, he loves hard.

⋆ soap is a passionate guy, both at work and in his personal life. when he loves someone, he does it with his whole heart and soul. his love is all-consuming and full of warmth, just like the man himself.

⋆ there were plenty of sleepless nights before he confessed to you, hours spent obsessing over what to say and what to do, desperately trying to figure out how to express his feelings. drawings of you filled the pages of his journal– some were more refined, with great care put into each detail, while others were sketches that he snuck in after assignments, when you were too exhausted to notice his eyes flicking between you and the charcoal-covered page.

⋆ if you’re ever in danger, pity the fool that put you there. this man would move heaven and earth for you without a second thought or a single complaint, and there is nothing on this planet that could possibly prevent him from doing so.

⋆ leading off of that– soap is very protective. not unbearably so, he’s not the type of guy to control you or treat you like some kind of property, but he will take any opportunity he can to care for and protect you. he basically appoints himself as your personal bodyguard, regardless of how capable you may be.

⋆ simple things like holding your hand, guiding you through crowds, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, giving you his jacket, and calling or texting you to check in is his bread and butter. if he can’t physically be with you, chances are you’ll end up with someone he trusts by your side. he knows first-hand how dangerous the world is, and soap has no plans of letting you be put in harm’s way.

he is a massive flirt.

⋆ look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn’t know how attractive he is. i’m not saying that soap is a cocky bastard - far from it, in fact - but he’s well aware of the effect he has on people.

⋆ once he discovers something you like, he utterly abuses it. your eyes linger on him whenever he braces himself against the doorframe? well, suddenly it’s the most comfortable way to stand! your mind wanders off to a certain place when he speaks to you in a low voice? my, my… he just remembered another story that he simply must tell.

⋆ once he’s sure that the feelings are mutual, soap is bold. cornering you just to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, placing a hand on your knee or thigh just to watch you squirm, casually slipping cheeky remarks and subtle innuendos into your conversations in front of the team. if you respond in kind? even better. he’d love to go back and forth, to challenge you and see who breaks first.

⋆ unsurprisingly, his resolve crumbles first. despite his confidence and desperate attempts to break you, all it takes is a single ghosting of your lips against his to send him over the edge.

⋆ it’s nigh-impossible to not be confident while in this relationship. soap loves, loves, loves complimenting you at every chance. it doesn’t matter how you look or how you feel; you’re always attractive in his eyes. if you ever try to disagree with him, he’ll just grin and shake his head with a simple, "none o' that, love. you’re perfect just like this."

taglist: @sofasoap , @rohansregret

[gazs-blue-hat]

Hi! :) you wanted requests love ?

Soap interactions with reader who he has a major crush on, but can’t flirt with since she’s shy and he will scare her away

Thanks so much for the request! I never expected people to actually ask. Lowkey highkey inspired by convos had with @sprout-fics Summary: Johnny struggles to find out how to woo you. Frustrated with his lack of success, his two buddies Gaz and Ghost play matchmaker Word Count:

Tw: Canon Typical Language, suggestive comments, idiots in love (LMK if I missed any)

For three years you had been friends with Johnny "Soap" MacTavish and for each of those three years, Johnny has pined after you like he was poisoned and you were the only cure. You had joined TF141 as the medic and language specialist. It was strange to Johnny to watch you work, speaking to people in foreign languages like you had been friends for years, but the SECOND he tried to talk to you, you were a skittish and nervous puppy.

He had thought you were afraid of him, but you didn't act afraid of him. When the team would go out for drink, you would always sit next to him. Your knee always bumped against his when you sat next to one another. He did his best to respect your space, scooting away to provide you more room so you were comfortable You two would sit at lunch and dinner together, not speaking but just being next to one another. Whenever Johnny tried to speak with you, you only listened and never really...reciprocated the conversation. "I don't know what to do Simon! Every time I try and talk to her, she just..." he made some gestures with his hands, exasperated. He was running on the treadmill next to Ghost who was doing pull ups on the bar next to him. "Have you ever thought that she's just shy?" Simon asked while lowering himself slowly, legs crossed under him as he worked on himself. Johnny rolled his eyes and nodded. "Aye, I've thought of that already. She only acts like that around me! She never talks, never makes conversation. She just...sits there!" Johnny was sprinting now on the treadmill, trying to work his frustration out. Simon finished his current set and landed softly on the floor next to Johnny.

“Why don’t you just..tell her how you feel? It’s not that complicated sergeant,” He grumbled after taking a sip of his water bottle. Johnny didn’t answer and Simon rolled his eyes and pulled the little cord connecting Johnny to the treadmill. The machine whirred to a stop and Johnny stood, glaring at him while sweat slipped down his forehead.

“The hell you do that for?” The Scot scolded while moving to grab the little clip back from Simon. Simon held it over his head, smirking.

“I’m not gonna let you run yourself to death MacTavish. You need to get into gear and tell that woman how you feel, before she decides you’re not worth her efforts.”

Johnny scoffed and grabbed his water bottle from the floor.

“Right bastard you are,” He muttered as he pushed the gym doors open. Simon rolled his eyes and opened his phone, texting Kyle.

Ghost: Solid copy on the package, you’re up.

Gaz: Copy that

Ghost: Think this will work?

Gaz: fuckin’ hope so. I bet Price twenty quid we could get them together by the end of the week.

Simon scoffed and locked his phone again, pressing play on his podcast he was listening to. Kyle didn’t know it, but Simon had bet Price the same amount that the pair of them would remain oblivious to one another.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Kyle put his phone down and sighed softly as he handed you another little cookie.

“I don’t know Kyle! He just…whenever I try and touch him, even a little, he scoots away.” You sounded so upset earlier and Kyle had immediately invited you to his quarters to vent have some tea. Price jokingly called these little venting sessions ‘Tea Parties’ and soon, you two started calling them that as well.

“Perhaps he just doesn’t like being touched?” Kyle offered, sipping at his tea after dunking a little sugar into it. You shook your head.

“But that’s not true! He touches literally everybody else! Even Simon! He constantly taps his shoulder or jabs his ribs. Heaven forbid I put my knee against his, he avoid touching me like… I’ve got the plague or something…” You looked down at your cup, the tea doing nothing to soothe your wounded heart.

“Perhaps…he’s nervous. Having a pretty girl touch you sometimes make a man…think certain things. He probably wants to be respectful and not freak you out or something.” Kyle shrugged, knowing full well that their resident Scotsman had often had to excuse himself from functions to…relieve some tension. The men had all given him shit for it before they realized how down bad he was for the linguist.

“Stop teasing Kyle! I’m serious!” You puffed out your cheeks and crossed your arms. Kyle shook his head and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Have you tried..talking to him?” He asked genuinely. Your face fell and you shook your head.

“I have tried. Every time I try and say something to him…it all gets jumbled. I’ve left him little notes and stuff but the message always gets lost in translation.”

Kyle remembered when you had written him a note in Arabic that basically said ‘I like you a lot’ and being the fool Johnny is, us used google translate rather than calling Farrah or even Alex.

When Kyle had showed the note to Alex and Farrah, they laughed like fools.

Gaz: (Image:click to expand) What does this say?

Farrah: The word used means ‘life friend’ but the internet decides that it only meant friend.

Alex: I assume this note was written by your linguist. Meant for Johnny? He is so down bad, he’s blinded himself. The poor idiot.

Farrah: Who’s gonna tell him?

Alex: Not it

Gaz: Not it

Ghost: Not it

Price: You all are acting like children. Literal children.

“Well love, I dunno what to tell you. Johnny talks, he likes talking. You don’t like talking, you like touching. Perhaps…just. Talk to him. The worst thing he can say is ‘no’ right?” His words were meant to be comforting but your smile fell and you nodded.

“That’s what I’m so afraid of…”

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You had decided to tell him. Tell him straight up how you felt about him. You held your script in your hand tightly, almost crumpling the paper in your grip.

“It’s fine…it will be fine…If he says no, you have a whole case of wine and spy romcoms to cry about.”

Johnny was coming back from a mission today and after a week apart, you were able to find the courage to write your script and prepare it. Kyle had been ever so patient in listening to you rehearse and he even gave you advice so things wouldn’t be confused.

Meanwhile, Johnny had decided he was just gonna go for it. reputation be damned he was gonna kiss you today. He was going to stand his ground and feel your warm cheek under his lips. Simon knew next to nothing about kissing (that he was willing to share),, and he was little help to Johnny. So…he used his pillow for practice. Once he thought he would preform somewhat decently, he was sent on the stupid mission that separated you two.

Once the heli hit the tarmac outside, he marched his way back into the base.

“Man on a mission then…” Price grumbled softly, lighting a cigar and shaking his head. He made sure he still that the money in his pocket if things finally worked out between the two fools.

You and Johnny collided with one another in one of the hallways in the base. You had been reading your letter again and again, memorizing the words over and over again. When you were looking down, you crashed into the object of your affections. You would have slammed back into the ground if it hadn’t been for his swift reflexes. His left hand was holding your waist gently but with enough force that you held still. His right had had gone to the back of your head, just to be sure your head wouldn’t slam against the floor if his grip faltered.

“Easy lass, get your head on straight,” He joked as he helped you get back on your feet. Your face was flushed and your breath came quickly.

“S-sorry Johnny. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You words were soft, almost a whisper. Whatever wind you had in your sails had been shoved away by the stumble. Your note had dropped to the floor and was being crumpled underfoot. Once you straightened everything out, you turned sharply and made your way back to the mess hall, scurrying away like a scared mouse.

“Wait lass! You left your pa…per.” His sentence ended once he saw his name on the top of the sheet. He picked it up and read the words, his heart racing in his chest. Pure poetry was on the paper. Your heart had been spilled in obsidian ink and flowing words.

You liked him.

You loved him.

You loved him.

The paper fluttered down as he dropped it and sprinted in the direction you had left in.

————-

“Well lads…guess Simon won this round. Despite your best efforts, the idiots have yet to realize they belong together.” Price joked as he sipped at his drink. Kyle frowned and shook his head.

“Still have three hours before lights out…there’s still time.” Kyle had taken off his hat and placed it on the table, worrying it out of frustration. Simon only chuckled and crossed his arms.

“Just admit you lost Garrick. Nobody likes a…” his sentence was cut off by mess hall doors bursting open. There you stood, blushing red as a tomato. Johnny came from behind you like a rocket, grabbing you and spinning you to face him. He slammed his lips on yours, holding you tightly so you wouldn’t let go.

“Shit…” Simon grumbled while sliding money over to Kyle who was slamming his fist on the table and cheering. Price chuckled and slid the money over to Kyle.

“YES! FUCKIN FINALY!”

All of these words fell on deaf ears as Johnny kissed you like you were the center of his world.

That’s because you were.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

[endless-ineffabilities]

Daemons wife getting injured 🤭

feast

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 871 ▪︎ masterlist

warnings: language, Daemon being the cheeky bastard that he is

──────────────────────────────────────

"Must you hover over me at every second, dear husband?" You ask, as Daemon fusses over you, even from the simplest movement such as getting up from your seat.

"Just allow me, my love." He insists, keeping an arm around you.

"Daemon," you grit your teeth in exasperation, "I merely sprained my ankle, not my bloody spine. I'm perfectly capable of walking." Limping, more like. But nevertheless, you are determined to limp at your leisure. The maester assured that your injury shall heal in a few weeks time, after all.

"Don't speak of it like it's a trifling matter. You never should have been hurt in the first place." As if to prove his point, his hold tightens around you.

The incident happened quite recently. An embarrassing error on your part, really. You had taken a misstep due to the abundance of the layers of petticoat of your new gown.

But Daemon could give less of a damn about the reason. What matters to him is that his wife had been hurt, and he was only quick to assign blame to the closest possible individual.

He attempted to get rid of the tailor responsible, but you came to her aid, just in time before Daemon threw her out of King's Landing.

Then he went for the guards who were assigned to you that day, but you dismissed that claim as well. They were nowhere near you when you tripped by the stairwell. Surely they are to be absolved of any blame.

"Look, give me your arm, and we shall walk together to the great hall for supper." You decide to give him this small concession, because you know Daemon would not be calm otherwise. He will carry you through the hallways himself if you would only let him.

"Are you certain that I cannot simply lift you up in my arms and walk - "

"Daemon."

"Alright." He sulks, and you nearly giggle at your husband's expression. The frown on his face is barely concealed, but he raises his left arm out for you to take, so that the two of you may walk side by side.

And not with him practically hugging you with both arms, nearly lifting you from the ground.

A minute passes in relative silence, but you can just feel how tense your husband is, so you say lightly, "See? This is not so bad, my love. I can barely feel the injury."

"One single flash of pain across your face, and we are turning back. I will have supper brought to our chambers."

"I'm fine."

"Hmm." He walks slowly, much slower than you can manage.

"Daemon, we are not having a procession here. We can take quicker strides." You attempt to smile stiffly when you notice the castle workers glancing at you, themselves amused at the pace with which Daemon is leading you through the halls.

"We cannot take risks, my love."

"The only risk we are taking is that there might not be any food left for us by the time we arrive for supper." You know this is an unfounded concern. King Viserys' weekly feasts in the great hall are nothing if not grandiose. A seemingly endless array of dishes are prepared for all those in the castle, a true sign of the King's generosity. You and Daemon could arrive hours late and if would not make any difference.

But if Daemon already excessively worried over you with a sprained ankle, then you will make him lose his mind if you are to have an empty stomach on top of that.

"But your bloody ankle - "

"Will be forgotten once your dearest wife is fed and satisfied, my love." You finish his thought, pausing and squeezing his hand.

You offer him a comforting smile, one which he happily returns.

"Alright," he leans forward, and lovingly kisses your forehead, "I do have one more concern though."

You sigh, "What is it?"

"Will the sprained ankle prevent you from - " He pauses, sly smile forming on his lips.

"From?" You raise your eyebrows, never truly knowing what to expect from your roguish husband.

He slides an arm around your waist, and hovers close, his lips touching your ear when he whispers, "From being fucked, so hard that the entire castle hears you scream my name."

You straighten up as his words register, causing a familiar warmth to emerge from deep in your core. Suddenly, it is not the feast in the great hall for which you hunger, but rather, the far more delectable offering standing before you.

Of course your husband would say such a thing.

"Daemon." You slap his arm playfully, and he merely laughs.

"I don't know about you, my darling wife, but I'd rather dine on your sweet cunt than the best roast duck or honey cakes or candied fucking plums that the Seven Kingdoms have to offer."

"Seven hells." You feel flushed all over, your mind racing with the image that your husband conjured up. You look around quickly, worried that someone might have overheard.

Not that your husband would give a damn if anyone had.

"Shall I anticipate my true feast once we return to our chambers, my love?"

"Oh, Daemon."

──────────────────────────────────────

Daemon + General HotD taglist: @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @caspianobsessed @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @random-human02 @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @angel6776 @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @huntycola @blackravena @vyctorya @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince

[fuckyeahizzyhands]

We said goodbye to Izzy this season. What was your initial reaction to learning his fate, and how did you prepare for his death?

Con O’Neill: You know what, I’ve been around a long time, and going through those first few scripts and seeing which way the arc was going, it didn’t surprise me. I was upset because I loved playing him, but at the same time, I think David knows what he’s doing, and we are all here because of David Jenkins, first and foremost. So I got it. I made him pay for dinner, but I got it nonetheless. And then it was just a matter of honoring what they’d written. And they kept surprising me every episode. He kept giving me stuff that took my breath away and challenged me enormously. And yeah, if you’re going to go out, go out like that.

What message would you want to share with fans who are still struggling with Izzy’s loss?

That’s a big ask, isn’t it? I would say that I have nothing but love, respect, and faith in David Jenkins. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing. None of this was taken lightly. Trust David Jenkins.

When you were preparing for Izzy’s ending, which scene felt like a bigger send-off — that epic monologue delivered to Ricky or his final words to Ed aboard the Revenge?

I remember the day we filmed what turned out to be a eulogy… We shot it several times, and then Fernando [Frias], who was directing that episode, suggested we do one more take and to “let the guard down,” was his phrase. And I didn’t know the guard was up, but that’s the take they used. And there’s an ad-lib in that take as well, which I won’t tell you what it is, which one it is. But I thought the profound moment would be the death. I didn’t understand at the time that the profound moment was the speech. I knew the speech was brilliant. I knew they’d written something extraordinary. Because they played with the narrative a bit in the edit, I didn’t know where it was going to play fundamentally in the final edit. But yeah, it’s basically written and Fernando gave me the key to get where we went to. So thank you, Fernando.

You mention ad-libbing. Was there any scene or moment you got to improvise or enjoyed improvising this season?

I can’t remember. There was a lot this season. That one in the eulogy speech is because I see it being played everywhere all the time at the moment. So I hear that a lot. There was a lot more understanding of character in this season. Ninety-nine percent of ad-libs don’t get in. The thing that’s not often discussed about our show is it’s f**king beautifully written. And we do a lot of takes, and as long as we get what is written down before we do any other playing around, then we’ve done our job because our writers are exceptional. And the joy as an actor — I’m a theater actor from way back — is when you see some of this writing. It’s just brilliant.

You talk about being a theater performer. Were you thrilled to take on Izzy’s musical moment in drag? I was told you learned the French version and English version of “La Vie En Rose” for the episode.

I’d love to say I taught myself, but no, I don’t speak French at all to my shame, but my partner does, and I have a friend called Jenna Russell, who’s just played Edith Piaf in the West End. So between the two of them, they taught me how to [sing the song in French]. And it was just excruciating for both of them… how I bastardized the French language. And bless him, Samba [Schutte] as well was even there when we were doing the lip sync to the recording. Samba was kneeling down, out the shot telling me if my mouth was doing the wrong shape for some of [it]. I mean, it was that extreme, but we got there by the skin of our teeth. But it’s funny if you’d asked me for a song for Izzy, I would never in a million years have thought of “La Vie En Rose.” Now I couldn’t think of any song that suits him better.

What was the process like getting to find Izzy’s drag look? Because it doesn’t feel like he’s embodying a character, but rather an extension of himself.

Quite a lot, to be honest. Nancy [Hennah] first talked to me about it. The drag was on, it was off, it was on, it was off, it was on. It was off. And then when we got close to filming, the drag was on again, and I just didn’t want it to be a comedy. Not that she ever suggested it was, but there were versions of the ideas for the drag which were so extreme that it felt like a parody. And I didn’t want it to be a parody.

Here’s an exclusive for you. When Kristian [Nairn] and I shot the scene where I discovered Wee John doing his makeup, there was one take of the scene where we ended up looking in the mirror together, and I heard myself say, “Make me pretty.” And as gentle as that sounds, it had a profound effect on me because I suddenly realized that that part in [Izzy] that had never been announced before was wanting to announce himself and to be pretty while he was doing it.

And that became really important to me when we were designing the look. And between Nancy, our brilliant makeup designer, and Deb [Watson], my makeup artist, they came up with that look, which I think really honors Izzy as a character, but also made him pretty. It had a profound effect on me when I had myself say those words. I think it’s probably the first time Izzy has ever said the word pretty — and it was about himself. I mean, how lovely is that?

Izzy went through another transformation earlier this season with his peg leg. Was becoming the new “unicorn” of the Revenge vital for his character development this season?

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about this a lot today because I’ve been asked various questions around this theme. And what I think is lovely about Izzy’s arc or Izzy’s redemption is we don’t change who he was. It’s a version of who he was, who is now feeling gratitude and acceptance. And we can talk about the closet, whether it’s an emotional closet or a sexual closet. He comes out of the closet this season, figuratively and visibly, and every queer person has that story. They’re all different versions of the story, but the relief of the coming out process, it’s life-changing. That’s what Izzy does in this season, is he comes out and it’s had a profound effect on the audience. So many of them have already themselves or want to, or need to, and they let him, our writers let him. It’s lovely.

David had said following the finale that there’s no Our Flag Means Death without Izzy. Would you come back for a third season if asked? After all, this is the kind of show where a character can turn into a seagull, so surely there’s room for a ghost.

That’s a conversation you have to have with David. David is the boss on all of this, and I know David always wanted a Season 3. I would be heartbroken for the show if he didn’t get a Season 3 because it deserves it. It’s an important show. If Izzy’s involved, and if he isn’t, I still think it’s a really important show and it should be given its send-off season.

On a more light-hearted final note, we got to see Izzy interact more with Stede as a mentor. What was it like getting to build that dynamic with Rhys in Season 2?

I loved it. Do you know what? Rhys was brilliant in the first season, but in the second season, he just found some extra confidence and he really stepped up. He’s f**king brilliant in the second season, and working with him on those scenes, it was a joy. It was an absolute joy because he’s f**king landed so beautifully. And to be present with him in his newfound faith and confidence… it was joyful, and I think he’s awesome.

[waiting4inspiration]

The Dragons' Keeper II (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You break the rules in order to find out who you really are and the freedom is amazing as Daemon takes you to Dragonstone.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of bastards, mentions of death, not much in this part, unedited so apologies for any mistakes

Word Count: 2.2k

Part 1 HERE II House of the Dragon Masterlist

The Rogue Prince is the first thing on your mind when you wake and you know he shouldn’t be. You know he shouldn’t be bothered with you but you also know that you are not the one to tell him that. Even if you tried to tell him, you know he wouldn’t listen to you. You feel you know all these things from what Caraxes revealed last night. You feel as if you know the Prince more than what has been said to you or what you have heard about him from whispers in the Dragon Keep. 

As you lead Caraxes out of the Pit, keeping your eyes on his and a hand out on the tip of his snout. You know that if you have been asked to lead Caraxes out, it means that his rider wants to go for a flight. And you can feel the eyes of the Prince on you as you lead his dragon out. Looking over your shoulder, you see that you were right. 

Daemon stares at you, watching you closely with every move you make, like you’re so certain of what your next move is while around his dragon. His mind recalls what Viserys told him about you and he wonders if you know those things. He wonders what you know besides how to control dragons, so it seems. You didn’t let on to know much when he followed you the previous night. Perhaps he could enlighten you. 

When you see the prince walking straight towards you, you know that he has not given up on his personal mission to get to know you. His attention is on you, not on his dragon. You half wonder if he hasn’t come here and asked for his dragon knowing that you would be the one to bring him out just so that he could have a moment with you without having to venture deeper into the pit as he did before. 

Quickly looking around at the other keepers and seeing that their attention is elsewhere, you move around Caraxes so that he blocks you from their view in case they look over and see you talking with the Prince. You could get into trouble for that. And Daemon knows that too.

“I thought you would come back, but I did not think you would be back so soon,” you say, talking in Valyrian, reminding Daemon that that is the only language you speak. 

No one has bothered to teach you the common tongue and why would they when all they need you for is for the dragons.

“You knew I would come?” he asks, whispering as you do in the same dialect.

You hum, a small smile growing on your face as you look up at Caraxes. “From what your dragon has told me, you do not seem to be one to give up easily,” you say, a small laugh in your voice that makes Daemon smile in return. 

Realizing that your hand still rests on the dragon and that you are standing in front of its rider, you quickly pull your hand away as your smile drops. 

Daemon is quick to react, catching your hand before it drops and keeping it against the red scales of his dragon. Your gaze shoots up to him as he keeps his hand over yours, covering it completely. “He is not overly fond of people. Yet he allows you to touch him and he speaks to you? And you understand him somehow?” Your silence is more than enough of an answer for him. “What has he told you about me?”

Your eyes quickly move over his shoulder to ensure a keeper is not coming. “Everything. He told me of the fight in the Step Stones against the Crabfeeder. He is honored to be the mount of such a fierce fighter as yourself,” you say, earning a pleased hum from Caraxes, as if he is listening to your every word. 

Daemon smiles, glancing up as his dragon as he gazes down at the two of you as in approval of you. “What does he saying now?” he asks, looking back down at you as he takes a small step forward. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and listen to the hum you can feel coming from Caraxes’s heart. “He wants to know if you had him brought out so you could ride him or just so that you could see me,” you say, moving with the dragon as he steps forward to hide you and his rider from a moving keeper. 

It’s different knowing what the dragon is thinking in the current moment for Daemon. Often he has wondered what Caraxes thinks, not being able to find out in that current moment. It’s different with you around and he can only imagine how that strengthens a relationship between a person and a dragon. 

“You spend all your time with dragons, but have you ridden one?” he asks, his hand leaving yours as he moves towards the saddle on his dragon. 

“I am not allowed.”

Daemon scoffs, leaning slightly against his dragon as he smiles down at you. “Any child of a Targaryen lord should soar through the skies at least once.”

“And how do you know I am a Targaryen lord’s child?” you ask, laughing at him as you step forward. You think he is jesting because of the similar features of a Taragyen that you have. But when you see that he is serious, your smile drops and you step forward, thinking that he does know something about where you come from. “How do you know?”

If he knows something, you have a chance that he might actually tell you. No one else will tell you, but Daemon seems to have an inclination toward you. 

Caraxes moves again, keeping you hidden from more Keepers as they move around the Pit. You feel thankful for that, resting a hand against his scales as a way to thank him for keeping you and his rider hidden so you both can talk. 

“My brother is the king. I may have gotten him to tell me what he knows about you,” he says, your heart leaping in your chest when he says that. After all these years, here stands someone in front of you that can answer all the questions you have. “Fly with me and I will tell you.”

You really want to. You want to know what he has to say. But you can’t bear to think about the repercussions of flying upon a dragon. You take a step back, shaking your head as you swallow roughly. But Caraxes pushes you forward with his head, stopping you from leaving and giving you the impression that he wants you to fly with him. 

Daemon takes your hand in his and pulls you towards him as he mounts the saddle. “I will protect you from them,” he whispers, pulling you up to sit in front of him on the saddle. And you can’t fight against him.

Your mind buzzes with excitement as you sit atop Caraxes and you don’t even hear the Keepers shouting at you. Caraxes doesn’t allow them to get near to him as he moves towards the entrance of the Pit, opening his wings to prepare to fly. Feeling Daemon’s arm wrap around your waist, your hand grips his forearm as Caraxes begins to rise off the ground. 

Your heart hammers in your chest and your breath catches in your lungs. But as you rise into the clouds, the wind blowing through your hair and into your nose, you feel as if you don’t need to breathe. When you close your eyes for a minute, it is as if you can feel Caraxes’s wings as your own beating against the wind. 

Daemon cannot see your face, but when he feels your hold on his forearm let up, he can tell that you are enjoying this flight. 

He flies to Dragonstone where he knows there will be no one upset about what you have done, where he can have a private moment with you without the two of you trying to hide from prying eyes. You tense up again at the sight of unfamiliar land, and Daemon leans forward to whisper in your ear. “You are under my protection. I will not let anything happen to you. You have my word.”

You don’t doubt that Daemon will protect you. You feel safe in his presence even though you have only known him for a day. You feel the loyalty from Caraxes, but that comes from years of being around him in the Dragon Pit in King’s Landing. 

Staring at the stone fortress in the distance after you land, you wonder how far from King’s Landing you are. It feels different being away from the place you basically grew up in, but it feels like freedom to you. It feels as if you have broken out of a prison cell. And the freedom feels like the fresh air you won’t forget soaring through the skies. It feels good to be out of the Pit. 

Daemon watches you for a moment as you stand in the open, staring off in the distance, and he can see a change in your demeanor. Getting you out of King’s Landing was a good idea. Here, Daemon can see you flourishing. 

Hearing him walking closer to you, you turn around to face him, showing that there is a big smile on your face. “What is this place?” you ask, briefly looking back at the fortress for a moment before looking back at the Prince. 

“Dragonstone. It is where our Grandsires come before the fall of Old Valyria,” he says, but a confused look falls on your face at his words. It makes him smile when he remembers that you do not know of Targaryen history and he would be happy and proud to share it with you. 

The mention of your shared Grandsires reminds you of the reason why you are here. “Who is my father?”

Daemon breathes out a small breath as he takes a step forward to you. “That I could not find out. But I was told that you were handed to King Jaehaerys when you were a babe as a bastard by a Targaryen lord. He decided that you should be raised in the Dragon Pit with the Keepers and that is where you were placed,” he explains, his voice soft as if still needing to whisper so no one hears his words. “I have some speculations as to who your father might be, but they would all be dead now.”

You take in his words, breathing out a shaky sigh as you run your hands over your face. “But why place me in the Pit to be raised among dragons?” you ask, the one question that has been burning in your mind ever since you were conscious of thinking. 

“The old king must have seen something in you when you were a baby,” the prince speaks, trying to comfort you with a small smile. “Or would you have wished to live in Flea Bottom with the other bastard, fighting for scraps of food every day?”

You bite your tongue at the thought, thinking about whether or not you were shown mercy by the old King by being placed in the Dragon Pit. “I would have liked a friend that wasn’t a dragon,” you mutter, casting your eyes towards Caraxes for a moment. “Perhaps I would have felt less alone.”

Daemon follows your gaze towards his dragon and he thinks to himself how things would have been if he had paid more attention in the Dragon Pit. Perhaps he would have noticed you sooner then you wouldn’t have felt alone. “You are not alone anymore,” he mentions, drawing your attention back to him. 

A smile returns to your face as you realize the meaning of his words. You breathe out a relieved sigh, your shoulders relaxing as you look around you once again. “I do not want to go back there,” you say, dreaming of living in peace and freedom, away from the confines of the pit and being out in the open for as long as you like. 

To Daemon, it is as if he has opened the cage of a trapped bird and is seeing it fly for the first time. It is a beautiful sight to see as you walk a bit away from him, towards the castle of Dragonstone. “We need not go back. You can stay here for as long as you want. As my guest,” he states, walking up beside you to place a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

“Are you the Lord of this place then?”

“It is my home away from King’s Landing,” he says, encouraging you forward. 

As he stares down at you, watching your joyful glowing face take in the sights of Dragonstone, he thinks about the small lie he had told you about your father. Though he has said that whoever your father is might be dead, leading you to believe that it could be one of Jaehaerys’s sons, he did not tell you of the possibility that the current king, Viserys, could be your father too. 

And Daemon has reason to believe that he is.

Requests for House of the Dragon are OPEN!

Add yourself to the Taglist HERE

Support me on Ko-fi HERE