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jamilelucato · 8 months

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possibility - fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x slytherin!reader

(it can be read as a one-shot) (part 02 here!)

summary: Amidst the boredom, an unexpected connection sparks between (Y/N) and the charismatic mischief-maker, Fred Weasley.

note: They are in their last year at Hogwarts, so, for purposes, they are 18; besides, the whole canon of the book (it would've been Order of the Phoenix) is mostly nonexistent here.

the reader: can be interpreted as someone with ADHD; she loves literature and she has no friends.

words: 7580

Enjoy!

The lesson trudged on, dripping with tedium.

In truth, (y/n) quite liked Professor Flitwick. She had, in fact, eagerly accepted his invitation to become his assistant whenever the First Years graced his class. Being an assistant delighted her to no end. Yet, being a student, well, that was a different cauldron of bubbling potion altogether.

Today, Flitwick's lecture on Spellcasting and its perils was dragging on and on. As a sixth-year student, the curriculum seemed more intent on delving into existing knowledge than offering exciting novelties. While these topics might hold allure for a future Auror or the like, they were a one-way ticket to Boredomville for her.

Ever since (y/n) had decided upon her career path – a decision that seemed to have been brewed in the deepest recesses of her being – most of her classes had metamorphosed into a soporific ordeal. Hogwarts wasn't particularly renowned for its prowess in teaching language and literature, but that was precisely where her ambitions lay. A writer, a wordsmith, perhaps even an editor or a high school pedagogue. Anything that would let her commune with the magic of words, not the sort that burst from wands.

Now, she wasn't a woeful spell caster by any means. Professor Flitwick wouldn't have sought her assistance if she weren't a smart witch. But, her heart preferred the dance of ink on parchment over the intricacies of wand-waving, often rendering her classroom hours relatively inconsequential.

Seeking refuge from this stifling monotony, (y/n) allowed her gaze to wander. And in this sea of faces, her eyes collided with Fred Weasley – the school's most notorious ginger-haired mischief-maker. He was already watching her, a mask of effortless nonchalance draped over his face. He raised his brows at her, noticing she was staring back, and he did not look away. And so, they locked eyes, neither relinquishing the connection. It was not a duel of gazes; it was more like a shared secret, a silent agreement over how tedious the class was.

A minute passed in this silent communion until Fred graced her with a faint smile. The spell was broken, and her attention returned to her empty parchment. A quiet sigh fluttered like a long-forgotten page being turned, but it vanished into the air, unheard by all but her.

With pen in hand, she felt an almost magical compulsion to transcribe Flitwick's words onto her parchment. His voice, though droning before, now seemed less boring.

“To its nature, we shall survive it, but the opponent targetted... not so much,” the professor intoned, the words finally finding their mark within her consciousness. Cruel nature, indeed. “Well,” she mused, her back moulding into her chair as her quill danced across the parchment, “Every spell I remember does possess a hint of danger.”

At long last, her notes held substance, and her enthusiasm, while subdued, had been rekindled. Her gaze again drifted sideways to where Fred Weasley was, only to find he had shifted his focus – to his twin, George.

They sat side by side, mirror images of naughtiness. (y/n) sometimes forgot that they were identical twins because she was so used to having them around that they started to look apart. George's height had a mere smidgen of variance, while Fred's nose was a tad more prominent. Freckles played a symphony across their faces, arranging themselves differently – Fred’s were more concentrated around his forehead. Yet, at that moment, as (y/n) blinked through her confusion, she wondered if she'd mixed up their features. Had she glimpsed George's grin instead?

But then, as if choreographed by fate, Fred resumed his original posture and caught her looking. His lips curled into an unmistakable smirk. “It's certainly Fred, then,” she thought, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, unwanted. She redirected her attention back to the good Professor Flitwick and his lesson, and weirdly enough, after all that gazing, she had regained her focus and was more ready to be a satisfactory student.

Amidst her studies, (y/n) was ensconced within the library's embrace.

This day bestowed upon the library an uncommon hush, a tranquillity that seemed to defy the norm. The librarian always managed to get the kids quiet, but she couldn't stop them from coming all at once when frenzied by the looming spectre of approaching exams.

However, an anomaly unfolded on that Friday afternoon, bestowing upon (y/n) the most unexpected gift – the library, in all its boundless expanse, was hers to claim. A rarity that, peculiarly, she found herself not enjoying. Amidst the solitude, her focus waned like a candle in a draft, flickering and unstable. Concentration eluded her, much like the fleeting caress of a dream upon waking. Reading, that intimate act of solitary exploration, seemed to have metamorphosed into a daunting endeavour. It was one thing to lose oneself in tales of princesses or the adventures of chiselled, sun-kissed heroes, but an entirely different ordeal to grapple with the intricate world of potion brewing.

For (y/n), the allure of fantasy books or any literary work was nothing short of enchanting, capable of whisking her away on wings of imagination. These volumes, she devoured with unbridled speed. Yet, a profound disinterest surged within her when it came to the theoretical tomes packed with knowledge mirroring the lectures she endured. If she were to be entirely frank, she might even admit a smidgen of disdain for these volumes.

So she would never take them to the dorms with her — she would much rather read them in the library, filled with other students. The presence of others functioned as a gentle but firm tether, binding her to the task at hand – reading, absorbing, and taking notes. The collective energy of focused minds bolstered her resolve.

Alas, a rather desolate air hung over the library's expanse on this day.

Thrice (y/n) had shifted her position, seeking companionship in proximity, only for her hopes to be dashed within thirty minutes. A sigh, tinged with resignation, escaped her lips, and in that crestfallen moment, a shock of crimson manifested in her field of vision. A pair of vibrant red-headed twins strode in. Nestled at the tables near the corridor's entrance, she watched them meander, their steps unhurried, eyes wandering. “Searching," her inner voice concluded. Certainly, the twins held a more potent allure than the secrets of cauldron cleaning or its ilk, a fact her current book seemed intent on imparting.

Though (y/n) watched from her vantage point, removed yet intrigued, the twins' presence would've caught anyone's attention had there been any other student around. As their gaze swept the expanse, (y/n)'s musings dipped into the realm of speculation, imagining the myriad thoughts dancing behind those crimson veils.

In a place where solitude was typically her archenemy, she now sat pondering the enigma of the Weasley twins, the allure of their presence momentarily overshadowing the dusty tomes that lay before her.

Fred and George stood at a distance, too far for (y/n) to gain a comprehensive view. Instead, they ambulated the space with a purpose that eluded onlookers – a relentless quest for something unbeknownst to her. As they wandered, their forms flickered in and out of her view, now one visible, then none, then both, and once more only one boy.

Fixated on the one nearer her, she strained her vision to discern. Could it be Fred? A question played a merry dance in her mind, teasing but refusing to commit to a definitive answer. His profile was turned towards the shelves, a curtain of red hair obscuring details. Besides, distinguishing the twins remained a daunting task without a survey of their noses.

Abruptly, a voice infiltrated her thoughts, causing her to startle in her seat, “You know we saw you, right?”

She swivelled around, only to be met by the missing twin positioned just behind her. Leaning over her chair's backrest, he inclined his head inquisitively, a solitary auburn eyebrow arching with playful curiosity. Witnessing her wide-eyed astonishment, the Weasley released a soft, subdued chuckle, a mischievous symphony woven into the sound. “If you want my brother's number, you can just ask,” he added.

So the one talking to her was Fred. She quickly glanced at his nose bridge, trying to see the intricated details left by a Quidditch match gone wrong, yet his voice functioned as the telltale sign. He audacity to issue such a provocative remark to a girl with whom they held only the most tenuous of connections – that could only be Fred's doing. Moreover, his tone carried a specific timbre distinct from George's. It was, for lack of a better word, smoother to her auditory senses. Not that George's voice was anything less than agreeable, but his was a quieter, more reserved resonance. She mused that her lack of familiarity with George's vocal cadence stemmed from his status as the quieter half of the duo, while Fred's unending stream of chatter had made his vocal imprint indelible in her ears.

A manufactured laugh escaped her lips, a tinkling facade, "Haha, Weasley. I don't want no one's number."

Fred inclined his head, a bemused glint in his eyes as if coaxing her to reveal more.

Nestled more comfortably in her chair, she raised her chin a fraction, a silent assertion that she was unreservedly facing the boy. This small shift seemed to foster a sense of openness between them.

"Studying is boring, so you guys looked like a distraction," she declared with a nonchalant shrug.

His voice dripped with theatrical incredulity, “We? A distraction?” Fred's lips curled into a playful smile, his head tilting as he leaned slightly away. He stood tall, towering over most, a fact he seemingly embraced with ease. Though his height wasn't sufficient to overshadow Ron (a surprise, really), it cast a considerable shadow over (y/n), particularly in her seated state. The disparity in stature unfolded in a tableau that her neck found almost physically taxing to endure.

With the book held closer to her chest, (y/n) drew a deep breath, her response tinged with a touch of exasperation, “Honestly, anything is a preferable pursuit than deciphering 'how to brew... a potion.'” Her fingers clutched the book, the page title a weighty secret she held close, refusing to vocalise it aloud.

An unexpected shift occurred as Fred commandeered the neighbouring chair, situating it with a proximity that nudged their personal space. “And weirdly enough," he said. Lowering himself into the seat, he offered a sly grin, his gaze steady upon her, “You always get good grades at Snape's classes.” A movement almost imperceptible – a twitch of the head, a hint of satisfaction – played upon his features.

(y/n) registered the proximity with an awareness that tickled her senses. The book, her veiled treasure, lay nestled in her grasp, poised for closure to deter prying eyes.

She shrugged, expecting him to forget what she held close, “I'm Slytherin, after all.”

“Ah,” Fred snapped his tongue in the roof of his mouth, a sound almost as if he had drunk something and was now satisfied.

Shifting her gaze quickly at George, she hoped he would come to her rescue and take his twin away.

“Not so fast,” Fred interjected, his large hand sweeping down to rest atop the book's cover. “What secrets are you hiding there?”

Her gaze flitted from his eyes to his hand, a growing wariness churning within her. Her fingers tensed around the book, futilely attempting to shield its contents. But deftly, the book was relinquished from her hold and into his.

His melodious voice breathed life into the words etched on the page, “Let's unravel this mystery... 'How to Brew a Love Potion,'” he read aloud, his playful and teasing tone. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as they danced up to meet hers. “Wow, (y/n), I'd never take you for one who needed a love potion.”

To match his wit, (y/n) maintained her playful gaze, a smirk curving her lips as her retort unfurled, “Oh, I don't know, Fred. Perhaps that's my secret to acing Snape's classes.”

Not even the weight of dark humour could ruffle Fred Weasley's composure. His smirk swelled, infused with a brew of mischief that danced in his eyes. “If that's the case, you're terrible at it. I distinctly recall a certain incident involving Snape's homework, and if memory serves, it nearly rendered you floundering.”

She averted her gaze, her attention shifting to the captured book still cradled within his hands, the prospect of regaining it receding into the distance.

“Thanks for the recall, top-tier student,” she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, are you willing to tell me your secrets? What are you doing here, in the library?”

Fred's laughter danced like a secret melody, an intimate note that lingered in the air, his eyes shimmering with a clandestine glimmer. “What's life without a little mystery?” he joked, his voice a velvety caress.

She mirrored his stance, a symmetrical lean that brought them closer, the gap between their faces now an invitation. Their proximity wove a delicate tapestry between their banter and a realm of deeper connection. “Is that so?” she inquired, her words drawn out in a languid purr, the air heavy with a mingling of intrigue and allure.

He matched her pace without the need to ask. The dance of their words had woven a tapestry of amusement, their shared enjoyment eclipsing the pursuit of concrete answers. After all, Fred barely had learned a secret. He was smart enough to know (y/n)'s book had been opened on a random page.

“If I tell you why I'm here,” he mused; his gaze, which had been steadfastly locked onto her eyes, dared trace a path to her lips, “what will you give me in return?”

(y/n) thought herself very wicked when her answer came quickly, “A love potion?” she playfully suggested.

His smile faltered, his breathing taking on a deeper rhythm, a transformation she couldn't help but notice.

“I don't need that,” he purred, voice dipping lower, “however, you...”

An eye-roll framed her response, though she didn't retreat from his proximity.

“Weasley...” her voice began, her tone laden with a mix of exasperation and uncertainty, an attempt to convey a sentiment she was grappling to articulate.

“Fred,” he interjected, the word a soft murmur, his eyes holding hers earnestly. Noticing her bemusement, he continued with a gentle lilt, “Call me Fred.”

She processed his words, pondering the significance of calling him by his name instead of his surname – a departure from the collective label that often accompanied the Weasley clan around Hogwarts.

A nervous throat clearing preceded her tentative utterance, “Fred." She tested the name as if savouring the syllables as if she did not know it before.

Flirting was an uncharted territory for (y/n), a realm she now tiptoed into, fueled by trepidation and exhilaration.

“Lucian Flewchief's book.”

The words hung suspended, (y/n)'s brow furrowing as she sought to decipher their meaning. Was that Fred’s way of flirting back? Suggesting a book? (y/n) was puzzled. That was a new way of flirting she never knew of, but she hoped the book was some young adult fae fantasy.

Fred's perception of her confusion prompted him to lean back slightly, dissipating the cosy bubble they'd woven. He clarified, “That's our objective here – locating Lucian Flewchief's book."

Her understanding unfurled with an "oh" of realisation, the pieces clicking into place.

“We're also the reason behind the library's current solitude,” he continued, an impish glint in his eyes. “George and I orchestrated a bit of a distraction to ensure we could slip away without drawing any undue attention, Godric forbid, with a book in tow!”

So that explained why she was the only one lingering at the library. Though it made sense, it stirred a tinge of melancholy within her.

Curiosity nudged her to question further, her tone now coloured with intrigue. “Who is this guy? Flewchief? And why the necessity for secrecy around his book?” Her queries were genuine and earnest, though sadness crept into her voice as their playful exchange segued into a more sober dialogue.

Fred swayed his head before replying, “He's a master at pranks.”

An eyebrow arched in response, (y/n)'s curiosity unabated. While she may not have been an expert in the art of pranking, one would expect to have heard of such a renowned figure, right?

Observing her perplexity, Fred inhaled deeply before disclosing, his voice lowered almost to a whisper, “He's a muggle author.”

Recognition flashed across (y/n)'s face, though she remained silent. Yet, subtle shifts in her posture – a subtle sag of her shoulders, a slight tightening of her lips – betrayed a sentiment that did not escape Fred's notice. He understood the Slytherin disposition all too well; prejudices were not uncommon.

She unravelled a piece of herself with an unexpected candour, her words confounding Fred's expectations. Instead of disparaging comments or dismissing glances, she offered something else entirely.

“I want to be a writer for muggles,” she confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “I like to write fantasy, you know. But that's not a genre for wizards; our reality often rivals the most fantastical of fiction. So, my focus turns toward the muggle readers.��

Though caught off guard by the revelation, Fred remained silent, feeling a surge of admiration for her. He hadn't anticipated such a response.

“I can help you find Flewchief's book,” she offered, swiftly transitioning past the exposure of her own secret, determined not to let her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I know this library well, particularly the section reserved for muggle authors. I presume you and George have little familiarity with the place.”

A crooked smile curled upon his lips in response. “Indeed,” he admitted with a chuckle, “you could even say 'no familiarity'; it's quite fitting.”

While (y/n) couldn't quite fathom how any student or individual could navigate life without venturing into the depths of a library, she empathized with their unfamiliarity. The muggle literature section was cloaked in segregation as if Hogwarts itself was disconcerted by such volumes.

Rising from her seat, she gathered her assortment of potion books. Truth be told, she harboured no illusions about accomplishing any meaningful research that afternoon. She left only one book behind – the one currently cradled in Fred's grasp.

“Are you coming or…?" Her voice hung in the air, a hint of playful theatricality accompanying her question.

Promptly, Fred sprang from his chair, the solitary book still in his possession. With (y/n) as his guide, they embarked on a journey through the library's labyrinthine aisles. Initially, they returned her stack of books to Madam Irma Pince, whose sole acknowledgement was a fleeting glance, her eyes flitting over the pile as it landed on her counter. Her gaze flickered momentarily as if recognition finally settled in at the sight of the redheaded companion beside (y/n).

“A Weasley," Madam Irma Pince declared, her observation stating the obvious. Fred, however, found himself grappling with an appropriate response. Ultimately, he opted for a shrug, his head tilting in acquiescence.

“I’m Fred,” he offered, his voice laced with a touch of formality. “But, you are absolutely correct, I am a Weasley."

It was abundantly clear that the librarian was well aware of which Weasley he was.

“Don’t tear my books apart,” she cautioned, her voice edged with warning. “And don’t you dare burn this place down.”

Fred's lips pressed into a tight line, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. He responded with a curt, “Noted."

(y/n) glanced up at Fred and then to the side, studying his expression. His tone left her somewhat perplexed – she couldn't discern if he was indulging in sarcastic provocation or if he held genuine offence at Madam Irma Pince's admonitions. She reflected that the torrent of criticisms from every adult figure must have been tiring. Yet, the twins hadn't acquired their notoriety by chance; their reputation as school pranksters was well-earned.

The three exchanged furtive glances before Madam Irma Pince averted her gaze to her counter. Her intentions, on the other side, remained veiled to (y/n). Fred possessed the capability to peek, but (y/n) held doubts about him exercising that prerogative.

Clearing her throat, (y/n) eased away from the librarian, and Fred followed suit.

“Take me to George,” she requested. Detecting Fred's immediate confusion, she elaborated, “So both of you can scour the shelves for the books. I can assist, but I'm not quite tall enough to reach all of the shelves.”

“Again," Fred inclined his head toward her, and at that moment, a subtle shift occurred, the playful dance of flirtation vanishing as swiftly as it had emerged, “Thank you for the assistance”. His expression was appreciative, genuine, a quiet acknowledgement of her assistance.

With a soft smile, she replied, “Don't mention it," her voice bearing a hushed quality, her gaze evading direct eye contact. “You’ll just own me one.”

He chuckled, “Uh, the unspoken possibilities.”

Indeed, Fred. Indeed.

It was a rather cold day.

But it was Saturday and Hogsmeade trip day, so (y/n) put on her thickest coat and decided to face the snow.

Her fellow housemates buzzed with excitement, eagerly anticipating the visit. Yet, for (y/n), this outing held a more sombre purpose – a pilgrimage to Honeydukes. While her friends were pursuing quills and ingredients, (y/n) sought only solace in candy. These past few days had been trying, and the kitchen house elves had quietly declared her persona non grata, etching “no longer welcomed" onto their secret walls. So she’d have to buy her own sweets from now on.

“Feeling hot today?” a voice chimed from behind (y/n).

She clutched herself, attempting to stave off the relentless cold. Hogsmeade always exuded a chill, but it seemed that nature was intent on pushing the mercury even lower today. Not even her trusty coat could entirely repel the biting wind.

The voice was familiar; she recognised it as belonging to Fred Weasley.

“Where’s your other half?” she asked, noticing George wasn’t around.

“At the school,” Fred replied, bridging the distance with a few long strides. Given the frigid weather, (y/n) moved slowly, rivalling the old ladies of Diagon Alley. “He's caught the flu.”

A chuckle escaped (y/n), though her amusement was laced with empathy. “After today, I might end up just as sick.”

Fred mirrored her laughter, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle. Then, shifting his gaze towards their right, his expression became more earnest. “Come on, let’s get you something warm. Tea?”

True to his suggestion, Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop loomed just a few steps away.

(y/n) scanned her surroundings, from Fred to the inviting facade of the shop, and for a fleeting moment, the idea appealed to her. But then, a mental alarm sounded – this place was renowned for romantic trysts, a haven for couples from their year. For a time, (y/n) had considered herself above such traditions. But as her sixteenth birthday came and went, and she remained unattached, she longed for the experience of a boy inviting her to tea. Now, at eighteen, it seemed more a fanciful dream than a tangible possibility.

So Fred was definitely not suggesting it as a date.

“I actually have to head to Honeydukes,” she replied, her features arranged in a grimace, and she gestured with her body towards the store at the far end of the bustling Hogsmeade street. “That's the only reason I'm still here.”

Fred bit his lip in thought. “How about we grab a tea to go, then?” he proposed, his determination unwavering. He peered down at her, shivering in the cold, taking in her petite frame. “In less than fifteen minutes, you'll be on your way back to Hogwarts.”

The notion of sipping on something piping hot was increasingly appealing.

“Promise?” she asked, her tone a touch childlike.

Fred extended his pinky finger, encased in a slightly faded red glove – likely a Weasley hand-me-down. Not that (y/n) considered herself entitled or wealthy, but it was common knowledge that the Weasleys weren't the richest in monetary terms. Yet, they were undeniably wealthy in children.

Her own pinky fingers remained nestled deep within her pockets, safe from the cold. Fred glanced down and chuckled.

“Come on.”

She sighed, “Fine, Weasley. But you're footing the bill,” and when she noticed he was about to playfully protest, she added, “You were the one who insisted, after all.”

They walked together, resembling a pair of penguins navigating the icy terrain. (y/n)’s hands, nestled within her coat pockets, were shielded from the biting cold, yet their elbows still grazed one another now and then as they strolled leisurely.

Fred gallantly held the door open, allowing her to enter the cosy shop, and she expressed her gratitude in a soft murmur. While he proceeded to the counter to place their order (when queried, (y/n) simply requested, “Any tea will do, as long as it's the hottest available"), she contemplated the peculiar friendship that had taken root between them.

She'd never been an opponent of Fred, or the Weasleys, or anyone within Gryffindor, as one might have assumed. However, their closeness was a relatively recent development. When confronted with one of the twins' pranks, (y/n) was often the first to laugh, captivated by the sheer audacity of their exploits. She believed magic should be harnessed for amusement, not as a weapon; consequently, she found their approach to their magical talents endearing.

Because of her laughter, Fred and George had never targeted her with their pranks. Their mischief was generally directed at Malfoy and his ilk. Occasionally, she'd return to her common room and find something amiss, but she understood it was their way of rebelling against the entirety of Slytherin and its values rather than a personal affront.

By her fifth year, (y/n) considered Fred and George her acquaintances. They exchanged nods in the classrooms and other shared spaces. Being in the same year, she had grown accustomed to their voices and learned to differentiate between them.

Moreover, the Weasley twins had a certain charisma that she couldn't deny. She had met Fred’s older brothers before, so their good looks were no surprise. She realised this charm extended to Fred as he approached with two cups of steaming tea.

His freckles had always been a distinctive feature she admired. Yet now, she also noticed the appeal of his height, his shoulders broad and strong, typical of a Beater. His hair appeared soft and straight, inviting her fingers to run through its fiery strands, although she knew better than to entertain such notions.

Strangely, it was his nose that intrigued her the most. It was the distinguishing feature that allowed her to differentiate between Fred and George. She found it more masculine and captivating than the rest of his features. Not to mention his chest, which had once tantalisingly revealed his abs through a sweaty Quidditch shirt during a match. The sport certainly worked wonders on bodies.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. She freed her hands from her pockets only with the prospect of holding something scolding hot.

Fred observed her closely as she tasted the tea, noticing how her eyes momentarily closed in bliss and how her body seemed to uncoil, the tension in her shoulders dissipating.

“All right, off to Honeydukes I go," she declared, pivoting towards the Tea Shop's exit.

Fred followed her, hastening to hold the door open once more. A subtle blush dusted her cheeks, and she was relieved that the shop was still relatively empty. A couple occupied a dimly lit corner but seemed too concentrated on each other to notice Fred Weasley being nice to a Slytherin girl. So that’s saying a lot about how entertained that random teenage couple was.

As they stepped back into the brisk Hogsmeade air, (y/n) noticed that Fred was still at her side. She didn't voice any complaint, though. Ever since the day he had sought her help at the library, she had resigned herself to the idea that she might never get the opportunity to converse with Fred alone again. George was always around, and if not him, then someone else. And even though, if she tried, (y/n) could engage in conversation with the other twin or with a Gryffindor student, she would rather not.

In fact, it was rare to find someone she would like to engage in conversation with.

Fred was a… welcoming surprise.

“Uh," Fred's voice cut through the silence, which had settled between them as they enjoyed their tea, “can we make a quick stop here?"

They were passing by Zonko's Joke Shop, renowned for its extensive collection of prankster essentials. Of course, the shop would undoubtedly be on Fred's daily checklist. However, his request to pause at the store intrigued (y/n), given that she had never envisioned walking with him that day. Sure, he had treated her to tea, but that hardly counted as an expense, and she had mentioned her eagerness to return to Hogwarts promptly.

“It won't take long, I promise," he assured her, taking note of her delayed response. “Just add five more minutes to your wait. I'll escort you back, no worries."

(y/n) hesitated for a moment. “You really don't have to do that," she replied, taken aback by his gentlemanly offer.

“As if I'd let you make the journey alone."

She gazed at him in the wake of his response. “I'm a witch," she pointed out the obvious. “It's not like I can't handle a few dangers."

Fred cocked his head, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. “Can you defend yourself against the cold?"

She didn't respond; her answer would have been a resounding ‘no.'

“That's what I thought," he declared, a knowing smile dancing on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, her free hand resting on her hip, her other still cradling her tea. “And what can you do to protect me from the cold?" she challenged Fred.

His smile grew, and he knew he had the perfect response. “Keep you from slipping on the icy ground."

Annoyed by his accuracy, she sighed loudly as they entered the joke shop.

The shop was bubbling with people: it was a living organism. (y/n) struggled to recall the last time she had set foot in this place. She had certainly visited the joke shop before, back in her third year when students were first allowed to venture into the village. Like her peers, she had eagerly explored every store without exception. However, as time passed, most of the shops had become familiar and somewhat ordinary to her. She only made the trip to Hogsmeade with a purpose now. Coming just for butterbeer seemed pointless, especially when she lacked the company of friends to sit with and share laughter.

So, following Fred Weasley as he browsed around the shop put her in a silent trance of observation and gaping. He moved confidently, searching for items and locating them quickly, with the same precision she'd demonstrated when she'd guided him through the library the other day. (y/n) followed at his heels, like a child following its guardian. In less than three minutes, they were already in line to pay.

“How do you know where everything is?" she asked, enjoying the moment of calm the checkout line offered. “I don't think gathering all that took you more than five minutes."

And it was indeed quite a haul. Fred's two hands cradled dozens of boxes and items like precious cargo in his lap. The teacup he had been carrying was now held securely by (y/n), ensuring that her hands were occupied with warm objects to fend off the cold.

Fred responded with a casual shrug to her question. “How do you know where all the books are in the library?" he countered.

“I don't know," she replied, her response unfiltered. “I guess I've just memorised it over time."

“Me too," he said, his eyes fixed on the shop as if watching his beloved. “Not to give reason to my fame at Hogwarts, but of course, my favourite shop has to be Zonko’s."

The line at the checkout stretched long, leaving (y/n) and Fred standing in contemplative silence, pondering the curious connection that seemed to be budding between them. Amid it all, (y/n)'s thoughts swelled like a bubbling potion. Were they friends now? Could she consider adding him to her list of friends for Christmas shopping? These questions lingered, but she found herself without a clear answer. It felt odd to directly ask such a thing; friends didn’t ask if they were friends. They either were or weren’t, organically becoming over time.

But despite the comfort she felt around Fred, she couldn't quite label it friendship. The issue, she concluded, was her own. She had a deficit of friends and now understood why: she wasn't wired for it. Friendship wasn't part of her programming. Fred, on the other hand, was a different breed. Friendship was his natural state, woven into his very essence. He exuded a friendly aura, even if many Slytherins would vehemently disagree.

She didn't need to wonder whether he considered her a friend. He most likely did. He never targeted her with pranks; he exchanged glances with her in class often and was currently offering to escort her back to school. Fred saw her as a friend.

But did she want that?

“What are you thinking?” he inquired, pulling her out of her contemplative reverie.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, relaxing his shoulders. “I can see the smoke coming out of your ears like a cauldron.”

She had no clever reply, so she was content with wrinkling her forehead and lying. “I’m thinking about how quickly I will be able to get all the candy I want. Definitely not as quick as you, here.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Why?”

“I love candy and definitely know where everything is at the shop,” she explained, tilting her head unconsciously as she spoke. She explained, unconsciously tilting her head while talking. “But I have to gather enough to last until our next trip to Hogsmeade, and I'm not certain I can calculate that. I love chocolate, so one would assume I'd need to buy a lot to make it last. However, if I get too much, I'll eat more than I should. And trust me, I will eat everything I buy," she concluded with a hint of warning in her tone, as if she were issuing a threat rather than sharing a piece of information.

Fred swallowed hard, trying to wrap his head around her unique thought process. “Are you stockpiling sweets?"

She nodded, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

“Well, if you do end up eating it all, I'll show you where to get more, you know, from the kitchen with the house elves," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he were secretly pleased with himself for sharing this tidbit.

“Oh, Weasley," she shook her head, dramatically feigning pitifulness. “I already know the secret passage to the kitchen. That's precisely why I have to stockpile chocolate in the first place. I've been painted as a criminal there for how many sweets I've pilfered."

He couldn't help but chuckle, though he kept it discreet.

“I can't believe it," Fred said with mock disbelief, then paused as if pondering again. “Well, actually, I can."

With the two cups of tea-to-go in her hands, she raised her shoulders in a half-shrug while raising her hands in tandem.

“So yeah," she concluded, “I have to stock up until the Professors allow us to come here again."

Staring at him, (y/n) couldn't help but think that Fred was on the verge of saying something. However, something must have caused him to change his mind, and he remained uncharacteristically silent. A few seconds later, he was called to the cashier to settle the bill for his items. (y/n) patiently waited behind him, casually sipping her tea.

When Fred returned to her side, the numerous small boxes he'd been clutching had been consolidated into just two cardboard bags, which he effortlessly carried in one hand. The two of them exited the joke shop, savouring the last remnants of their teas. By the time they reached Honeydukes, the cups had already been discreetly disposed of in the nearest bin.

“Have fun," he wished her warmly, courteously holding the door of the candy shop open for her to enter. (y/n) returned his friendly sentiment with a smile—precisely the sort of well-wishing one would expect before embarking on a shopping spree in a candy store.

Fred lingered in a quiet corner of the shop, surreptitiously observing as she gleefully navigated the aisles, carefully selecting her candies and placing them into a plastic basket a diligent store employee offered. She appeared far more animated here than he had ever seen her before—back in the library, she had come across as somewhat bored, and the same was true in their shared classes. While she undeniably held the status of a top student with excellent grades, Fred couldn't help but wonder why she seemed to lack the enthusiasm and focus he might have expected from someone of her academic calibre.

However, gathering her desired assortment of sweets took considerably longer than the five minutes Fred had initially anticipated. When he finally met up with her at the cashier, the man behind the counter handed over not one, not two, but three full bags of assorted candies and confections.

Fred couldn't help but jest, “Wow, someone's clearly outdone me."

“Mine's supposed to last longer," she retorted with a wry smile, determined to maintain her composure.

Fred's grin only broadened. "Will it, though?"

There was no malice behind his teasing; his natural inclination was to engage in playful banter, a habit he would have indulged with George, Ginny, or anyone else. If anything, he found himself enjoying the camaraderie that was forming between them, appreciating the quick-witted exchanges that characterised their interactions. And (y/n)'s response was predictable by now—a blend of half-anger and half-challenge that had come to define her expressions.

They left the candy store, their playful back-and-forth continuing as they walked, with Fred progressively leaning in closer with each exchange.

Fred's next question unintentionally left (y/n) feeling mortified as they approached the Three Broomsticks.

“Are you sure you don’t want a good, old butterbeer?” he asked. “It’s alright if you do. I won’t linger at your friends’ table; I’ll just drop you there and find Oliver Wood or someone else.” He said, using Oliver as an example, for he was the one name he remembered to have seen around the village.

It was weird, now that Fred had come to think of it, how he did not recall seeing one person from Hogwarts around Hogsmeade, even though he knew it was a crowded day there.

She had no friends to meet there or anywhere else. She cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact, “I don't have friends in there."

The proximity to the inn allowed them a clear view through the frosty windows, revealing the familiar faces of fellow students enjoying butterbeer.

“Why? Haven't they come to Hogsmeade?" Fred asked in surprise, momentarily distracted by the scene inside. “I swear that's Carmen Highland if my eyes aren't deceiving me," he remarked, gazing at the occupants within.

Lost in the sight of her former friends, Fred hadn't noticed that (y/n) was gradually distancing herself from him. She knew Carmen and recognised the other kids at her table — Andrea, Miniu, and Shenny. But they weren't friends anymore.

At least, not anymore.

“It is Carmen,” she reassured him, in case Fred would start considering he was indeed blind. “We’re just not friends, though.”

Fred finally snapped out of gazing through the cold glass window and returned his gaze to her.

“I distinctly remember all of you being quite lively at dinners and walking around classes," he said, furrowing his brows. “Unless Carmen has look-alikes I'm unaware of, I'm certain it's her. I've seen her during my Quidditch practices, competing for the pitch."

A smile tinged with embarrassment danced on (y/n)'s lips. She smiled not because she was pleased with the memories but because she was trying to conceal her inner gloom. “I used to walk with Carmen, and Miniu, and Andrea and Shenny. But that was way before.”

“No, I…”

“It was, Freddie,” she interrupted before he made her remember another memory. It was only because of her use of his nickname that he understood she wasn’t alright. “We were friends in the first year. Us and a bunch of other kids, so tight together because we were Slytherin, and we had to stick together because then we’d be victims of bullying from other houses.” Fred opened his mouth, but she continued, “Don’t deny it.”

Fred sighed and nodded.

“In our second year, the group started to shrink, and it ended up being just me and that table," she explained, her gaze distant, as if the memories were playing out before her eyes. "But I began to feel like I was there because I forced myself to be. I was being pushy. So when I stopped going, they didn't chase after me. That's when it became clear to me what our relationship was."

“What was it?" Fred inquired, genuinely perplexed, prompting (y/n) to wonder if he had ever experienced the abrupt end of a friendship.

“They weren't my friends," (y/n) stated matter-of-factly. “We didn't have a falling out or anything. I still greet them, and occasionally, we help each other with homework in the common room. But that's about it."

Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully, pondering the right words to respond with.

“Alright," he finally conceded. “I won't pry further," he said, his expression more serious now. “I can't quite fathom how a friendship could simply unravel like that, but it's clear it's not a cheerful matter. However, that doesn't mean you can't be with your other friends."

She rolled her eyes with exasperation and turned away from Fred and the entrance of the Three Broomsticks, her boots crunching softly in the freshly fallen snow.

“I don't have friends," she sighed, her breath visible in the crisp, wintry air. She could hear his footsteps, somehow always close behind.

Fred waited until he was walking right alongside her before he replied; his tone was soft and comforting. “You have me," he said, then hastily cleared his throat. “I mean, you have us. Me and George. I still owe you one from our library escapade."

“Consider it settled," she responded, her voice edged with a hint of exhaustion and her gaze averted. “You gave me a cup of tea, after all."

“That was just courtesy," Fred explained, his lips curving into a friendly smile, thinking their usual playful banter had resumed.

But (y/n) was weary, and it showed in her demeanour.

“Well, you're accompanying me back to the school," she tried again, her tone tinged with finality. “So consider that debt paid."

“Nah," he waved his free hand dismissively. “That's just me being a proper gentleman."

She rolled her eyes once more, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. “Fred..."

“We're friends, alright," he insisted, his tone gentle yet resolute, raising his voice slightly. “You have a friend... in me."

Without warning, (y/n) halted in her tracks, pivoting to face him fully, her expression a mixture of astonishment, incredulity, and a hint of amusement.

“Did you just quote a Muggle movie at me?" she asked, her voice showing disbelief.

“I’m sorry?”

“‘You have a friend in me’,” she repeated his words, this time adding a melody to her tone. “Did you quote the Toy Story song?”

“A toy story? Where is it?” he was genuinely confused, which led (y/n) to drop the subject since it was evident he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Never mind," she sighed, resuming her pace. “It's from a Muggle movie."

“And you've seen it?" Fred's stride matched hers again, his curiosity piqued.

“Unfortunately," she replied, her lips twisting in mild distaste. “I didn't quite enjoy it."

“Oh, why not?" Fred inquired with interest.

“It was... about friendship," she said, taking a moment to complete her sentence.

“I see," Fred mused, nodding thoughtfully as they walked towards the school, the snow beneath their feet offering a soft, comforting crunch with every step. “Perhaps I should watch it.”

“Yeah, why not,” she replied, not really wanting to participate in the conversation.

Fred knew when to shut up when he should, so they remained silent until the school entrance was visible.

“Uh, thank you,” (y/n) told him as they stopped in the middle of Hogwarts’ entrance corridor. It was a relatively empty hallway.

“See you around,” he nodded, and she bit her lip, turning her heels towards her House. “Friend,” Fred added a second later, only to see her turn her gaze over her shoulder.

“Bye, Weasley,” she said with a heavy breath out of resignation.

#fred weasley #fred and george #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fanfic

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travelersspark · 9 months

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Cybertronian!reader(gn)x bumblebee who has a Wall-e and eve relationship 👀👀 yk the reader acts like eve doesn't really talk and bumblebee being a total sweetheart, like the first time where eve said wall-e's name for the first time and he's like awww🥺 yeah thats them

I love this ! I'm not sure which version to go with but imma do TFP post season 3 for setup ♡

𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚

TFP!Bumblebee x GN!Cybertronian Reader.

A light whirl of the nightly life on Iacon sounds in your ears as you stroll down the walkways of the city. Cybertron. Your home. The place you always loved and never want to leave. Iacon being your home residence and workplace. As well as being a high inscriber your duties are simple. Nothing much to truly say. Hence why you enjoyed your job. You never really had to voice your opinions and ideas , you just had to transcribe.

Write any information presented to you and do diligence for the order of cybertron. You were complacent about your role and never questioned much about it. Moatly since no kind of threat seemed to be at large. Luckily you seemed to have some free time to yourself finding you optics set on a small rest spot near a open residence. The sound of communication drowns out the silence of the starry sky above. ❝ Y/N ? ❞ a voice called out as you turn to find where such voice came from.

Your optics set on a tall yellow and black cladded bot not to far off in the distance , passing through a crowd of other bots seeming to be in some sort of hurry. A faint hint of confusion spreads across your face plate as he approaches. His voicebox sounding hoarse and tired. ❝ I've been looking for you ! Finally got time off from patrol so... ❞ Servos planted on his hip plates as he spoke a bit of hesitancy in his voice as you watch. ❝ I was um. Wandering if you be free to go with me to that um- scrap. ❞ He mutters under his breath as he claps his servos and sighs. Optics pointed to the sky as a light blushing glaze comes across his faceplate.

To you , Bumblebee was like a close friend. Close enough to kind of be the real you. Yet you still never really understood him. Yet you enjoy his company in a way. A light laugh escapes your lips as you watch him uncomfortably fidget. Soon his gaze meets yours as his faceplate shows signs of amazement and confusion.

❝ Did you just.. laugh ? ❞ He exclaimed as your optics dart away and you turn flustered. Bee wasn't having it. He laughs quietly to himself as he moves close. ❝ You laughed ! I knew your voicebox wasn't broken ! ❞ He teased as you profusely shake your head , trying to hush his excitement. He cheered for a moment before you hastily covered his mouth with your servos as the gap between you two closed. After a second you back off quickly , akwardly. Bee sighs as he rubbed his neckplate as he grunts clearing his voicebox. ❝ There's a bar not to far from the central area. Probably about maybe a couple of paces down from here. I was thinking... maybe we could go and have a drink ? My treat by the way. ❞ He mutters the last bits as you blankly watched him. His optics narrow trying figure out your next move.

“ Yes.. ” your voicebox called out as Bee backs up in awe. A slight chuckled comes from you as you begin to walk waving him along. Bee's backplate wings flutter before he follows behind. His optics and mouth slack-jawed open during the whole walk. Your definitely gonna have alot of explaining to do...

There ya go! Kind of short but sweet and cute at the same time ! ♡

#transformers x reader #transformer prime #tfp x reader #tfp #transformers #transformers prime x reader #transformers bumblebee #bumblebee #tfp bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #tfp bumblebee x reader #WALL-E PLOT AAAAHHHHHHH #I LOVE THIS

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doberbutts · 10 months

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Like. Yes he can physically walk into the building. But at least around here in order to make an appointment at the doctor's office, you have to call ahead, the front desk literally won't let you in if you're not booked in their computer system. Unless you have a caption phone (which for those whose insurance and govt grants won't cover will cost roughly 75-300USD, also they operate on a significant delay and are not the most accurate transcribing in real time so hearies often get frustrated with the experience quickly and try to end the call) how are you supposed to make an appointment?

Okay so you got your friend to call. But you need to give personal information over the phone, better trust your friend. What if you don't have hearing friends or family? That's the reality for many deaf people, deafness has a huge genetic component so while my dad is deaf due to injury it's just as likely that someone deaf from birth literally has no hearing support system. Especially if they are too poor to afford an interpretor.

Speaking of. You finally get your appointment. The front desk asks you for your information. But you can't hear them. There's no interpretor. Luckily you brought a piece of paper with you to give to the nice front desk person. Better hold onto it and shred it at the first chance, someone can steal your identity with that. You're in the exam room. You don't hear the knock. The doctor comes in. There's still no interpretor. How can you give consent to any procedures if you can't hear what they're saying? The doctor writes it down. But they're frustrated so they just write down "blood test" and "open your mouth" rather than actually walking you through the appointment. You go home. They call and leave a voicemail with the results. You can't hear it. Was it normal? Do you have cancer? Do you have to make another appointment? You need someone else to listen to it and tell you.

This is the reality for a lot of deaf people. For many, it's worse- the older generations and even younger deaf folks who were denied language acquisition don't have the "write it down" option. ASL is not a one-to-one with either spoken or written English, you are asking deaf folks to be bilingual when you say that writing it down is a good replacement for an interpretor. And those who have no language acquisition can't even use the interpretor, because they were never taught ASL to begin with.

There are adaptive and assistive devices. My dad has a bunch of them because his insurance is really good due to his tenure from work before he retired so he's lucky that A: he was born hearing and so already had language acquisition before becoming deaf B: can afford to buy things to make his life liveable, and even then he still struggles. My phone automatically converts voicemails to text, his doesn't but I figured out how to turn the option on for him. It's an extra charge on his phone bill. Mine does it for free.

My dad's lucky. He says it all the time. A lot of deaf people have it worse.

Their legs work. They can get in the building just fine. They just can't do anything else sometimes.

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chuplayswithfire · 7 months

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Izzy Arc Thoughts, the post!

Having now watched the three episodes three times over (some of them more than that shhhhh), I still have a BUNCH of thoughts about the rest of the crew I want to percolate on, but I had some thoughts on Izzy that I finally feel confident in, as to what's going on in with his character since the end of season 1, and especially the arc he has between Impossible Birds and The Innkeeper.

Being upfront: I wasn't sure what kind of arc the show would do with Izzy and we still obviously don't know the full scope of it, as we have five more episodes to go, but it's definitely been intriguing in a way I didn't anticipate. I figured Izzy would continue on with his antagonistic role, and he still might, but it seems like D Jenks is having fun letting Con have a role with more emotional nuance than in season one, and seeing as that role has an impact on everyone else, I wanted to share my thoughts on what I think is going on with him in the episodes that we've seen so far. I also wanted to start my in depth analysis with a character I don't care about nearly as much (being honest!) as I do the rest of the crew, but who also has a huge impact on two characters I do care very much about, Ed and Stede. I'm planning to analyze Ed and Stede in each episode before we get eps 4 and 5!

This is a long post! It features many quotes directly , transcribed by me and taken from the captions by Max. I used a read more because the whole thing is over 6k in length and analyzes the dynamic presented between Izzy and Ed and Izzy and Stede presented in episodes 1-3 of season 2 of Our Flag Means Death. If the read more doesn't work, that is not on me, sorry.

Alright, so recap: when we left Izzy, he had lashed out at Ed for the person he was choosing to become and the manner in which he was expressing himself and his feelings - the blanket fort, the binging sweets, the singing for the crew, the sharing his feelings and asking to be called Edward, the encouraging a talent show, and then, the cleaning up and comfortably wearing a colorful printed robe of nice, soft fabric. (Quotes: "I should have let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death." "(growled) No. This, this is Blackbeard. Not some (breath) namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend.”) When these insults get the aggressive reaction from Ed that Izzy associates with the version of Ed he prefers, he encourages him with a smile, hand cupping Ed's cheek, and choking out "There he is." Ed shoves his hand away, backing away with a closed off expression, and Izzy's smile dies and he closes the distance between them. He states what he wants from Ed, makes a threat, and walks away without waiting for a response. (Quote: "Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard. Not Edward. Edward better watch his fuckin' step.”)

The next time we see Izzy, Ed has donned his leathers, made his face up with dark make up to look more fierce, and is cutting off Izzy's pink toe and feeding it to him. We know from episode 9 that cutting off toes and feeding it to people was a classic Blackbeard move. For Izzy, this is several things: 1) confirmation that Blackbeard is back, the one who would never let a threat stand and does a good maim 2) a punishment for said threat (Quote: "Threaten me again, ever... I'll feed you the rest. Understand?" "Y-Yes, Blackbeard.") 3) a confirmation that he has his boss back, that whatever Stede has done to his boss' brain is over.

We get confirmation of that third point when Izzy speaks with the crew as they're getting rid of Stede's books and possessions - "Blackbeard is himself again," with a broad smile. Later, we see Izzy abandon the crew on a small island, presumably on Ed's direct orders, as he waves goodbye to Bonnet's playthings - them - as they depart. Izzy has a gun as he stands beside Ed, and they're watching as Frenchie finishes the new flag and hoists it.

That's where we left Izzy in Season 1: standing besides Ed as Blackbird returns to being Blackbeard for a brand new era of being Blackbeard, greatest pirate who ever lived, terror of the seas.

And when we return to the show, that's kind of what we get. Edward is being Blackbeard and Blackbeard is the terror of the seas, a Wanted Poster with so many crimes they're covering both sides of the poster (and yeah some of them are very silly, what midwifery was Ed up to, exactly-), and yet, Izzy is not happy when we see him.

What I think the show works to establish in episode 1 is that what Izzy wanted back was the man he saw as the old Blackbeard, who wasn't afflicted by these feelings of love or softness or "weakness", which he views as something that Stede Bonnet inflicted upon Edward. We know that, because it's how he phrased it to Chauncey - that "[Stede] had done something to [his] boss's brain". He seemed to view these feelings as something akin to an infection from Stede, that was corrupting the Blackbeard he knew and respected to something less than. Izzy wanted the old Blackbeard back and he thought that when Ed took his toe and fed it to him, said he'd killed Lucius, all that I recapped, that he'd gotten just that. A return to his preferred normal, where everything makes sense exactly as he thinks it should. Ed back to normal, it's Blackbeard time, getting rid of the dead weight and all that.

Except that's not what he's gotten at all, and I don't think Izzy had fully grasped why prior to episode 1. He has suspicions, of course, but it takes him a while to build to a confrontation about it.

Because see, Ed switched from healthier coping mechanisms like crying, eating sweets, creative outlets, and talking to people about his feelings to much more acceptably pirate means of coping with his feelings - violence in the form of raids and drugs (rhino horn, which thought people joke about it being an aphrodisiac, has a variety of believed medical uses in Vietnamese medicine, treating ailments including hangovers, fever, gout and potentially terminal illnesses, like cancer or stroke). Raids and drug use should be totally acceptable means of managing your feelings as a pirate, except that Ed is going too far with them, pushing the crew to the breaking point and beyond. They're raiding every day, they're not taking breaks, they're not having days off, they're chasing down ships as fast as they can take them down and now they're going to be throwing away loot. Izzy is realizing that actually he has not gotten the Blackbeard he wanted and things are not great. He's also lost at least two more toes.

He and Ed have an early exchange - Izzy looking sickly, skin sallow, what appears to be hair dye or make up trickling from his hairline, Ed prepping and snorting rhino horn like it's cocaine:

Izzy: "The crew are lookin' a tad worse for wear.” Ed: "Did everyone get cake?" Izzy: "Yeah, they got cake." Ed: "Well they're, they're welcome to have some rhino horn. Just ground up a fresh batch." (snorts rhino horn) "Oh fuck! You want some?" Izzy: "No, not right now, no." Ed: "Well then, get back to work ya fuckin' lightweight!" [cut to Izzy among the crew] Ed voiceover: "Can't do the job, someone else will."

Throughout this scene, Izzy looks increasingly distressed as Ed does drugs - he looks his most distressed during the voice over however, his jaw flexing, his eyes watery.

This is what appears to have shaken him the most - the idea that he's replaceable, that Ed can and would get rid of him in favor of someone else. It's obviously incredibly distressing to Izzy, in a way that I genuinely don't think the loss of his toes was. Izzy clearly values his relationship with Edward - while in season 1 he definitely wanted a promotion and liked the idea of authority, of being captain, the fact that he was swiftly mutinied and nearly murdered seemed to put a kabosh on his ambitions, and reoriented him to staying at Ed's side. We know that Izzy at least believes that loyalty is important - we know that he thinks he's acting from loyalty when he tries to make Ed watch as his boyfriend (in Izzy's words) is murdered.

Izzy values his position with Blackbeard. He serves Blackbeard, respects him, was honored to work for a legend. And while this is supposition, he seems to have considered himself and Edward as having a close, intimate relationship that did not require words or confessions or honest expression of feeling, this kind of bond where words aren't necessary, because they're tough, manly men who don't need to express their feelings.

But.

Then we get this line. Then we get, "can't do the job, someone else will." Seven words, and they shake Izzy to his core, make him finally start questioning his until then unquestioned belief in the ways of the world and his relationship with Edward. It shakes him enough that he actually breaks in front of the crew, in a scene that's incredibly funny, but also leads to them extending him some genuinely unearned compassion, as they question the healthiness of his relationship with Blackbeard - even as Izzy is finally questioning if he has a relationship with Blackbeard.

Following his breakdown, Izzy has the crew bring the treasure above deck, but doesn't go through with making them throw it overboard. Instead, he takes those new doubts and brings them to Ed, pushing for a conversation where he is clearly for the first time in their working relationship expressing his thoughts on said relationship in word form.

Izzy: "The crew are refusing to part with any treasure." Ed: "Why?" Izzy: "Because it's fuckin' treasure." Ed: "Not good enough. (stops toying with knife, slides it in Izzy's direction.) And that's another toe. Take your boot off." (stands from seated position, walks over to Izzy.) Izzy: (starts by looking down at the ground, then slowly raises gaze to Ed's face as he speaks.) "Who am I to you?" Ed: “...What?” Izzy: “We’ve worked together for years. (sniff) You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you.” (a musical beat plays. Izzy lowers his eyes from Ed’s face, looking in the middle distance.) Izzy: I have (several second long pause) love for you, Edward.” Ed: (starting as Izzy is speaking, right after the word love) “Oh, come on.” (walks away from Izzy, circling around him.) Izzy: I’m worried about you. We all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned.” (pause) “But if we could all just maybe (pause, swallow, visibly struggling with words) talk it through.” (musical beat) Ed: (slowly looks up) “As a crew?” Izzy: (face falls subtly, taking on a starker look of upset)

The scene transitions away, but let’s really dig into all of this for a second, because this is crucial. This is Izzy going from matters between us are unspoken but profound to I have doubts and I am verbalizing my thoughts in the hope that they will be assuaged. Izzy is expressing aloud his thoughts on their relationship for the first time, because as Izzy puts it, he thought he knew Edward better than anyone. He thought he understood him better than anyone else alive. Now, we know that Izzy doesn’t understand Edward already - we’ve known that he doesn’t actually see the person Edward all along, but this was made especially clear in episode 6, where his voiceover notes that he is “starting to suspect that Edward has no intention of ending Stede Bonnet’s life”, at a point in time when Ivan and Fang are confident the plan is off and everyone else seems pretty clear there’s a co-captaining effect going on.

The point is that all this time, Izzy has been acting from a place of assuming he knows Edward best of anyone in the world, that he understands him, that he can follow what’s going on with him and that they are intimately bound together, in this deep and unspoken love for each other that doesn’t have to be said allowed, but only has to exist, unacknowledged but deeply felt.

But then Ed said that he could be replaced. Then Ed said that he could find someone else to do Izzy’s job.

And this introduced doubt into Izzy’s mind, for the first time. This is what made Izzy verbalize all these things - what made him ask who he is to Ed, what made him state that he has love for Ed, that he worries for Ed, that he and Ed understand each other better than anyone else… because now he has to say them aloud, because he has to be reassured that these things are true.

That he is someone important to Ed. That Ed has love for Izzy and knows that Izzy has love for Ed. That Ed understands Izzy, that Ed knows that Izzy understands Ed. For years, he has thought that he and Ed understood each other in this profound way, that they alone truly knew the other, and he has to question if that’s true.

He’s being vulnerable, in a way vaguely akin to the vulnerability Ed offered in episode 10, and it clearly doesn’t land. He wants reassurance that this deep and profound love and intimacy he was so sure was there, is real, and Ed can’t give him that reassurance because it’s not true. Not in the way Izzy was so sure it was. Not in the way he ruined Ed’s life to believe.

Izzy finally decides to put himself out there, and all that Ed gets out of it is the echo of Stede Bonnet, and it makes Izzy’s face fall like a rock. There’s the answer he didn’t want: the relationship he believed he had with Ed is not there, and Ed is still, utterly, truly, fixed in his feelings for Stede Bonnet.

(and like just to clarify, I really don’t feel bad for Izzy here - he doesn’t have the relationship he wants with Ed because he’s never tried to really understand Ed, or listen to him, and he isn’t what Ed wants in a partner, but, objectively, Izzy does make himself vulnerable here, and he’s shot down, because Ed just doesn’t return his feelings)

Which leads us into the continuing scene. Ed goes to confront the crew about the atmosphere of the ship being poisoned, which everyone denies at gun point, leading Ed to shoving the gun under his chin and having a little conversation with himself, unsettling everyone around.

Ed: “I know who we should ask, ol’ Blackbeard. Hello mate. You think the vibe on the ship is poisoned? I don’t know, Blackbeard. Maybe a little toxic sometimes. Maybe it’s a bit uncomfortable sometimes. You do make the crew a little bit uncomfortable sometimes. They think you’re crazy. Well, I’m not crazy. I don’t feel crazy. I feel pretty fucking good actually.” (the camera is focusing on the faces of all the crew as he gives this monologue, gun still cocked under his chin.) Izzy: “Fucking End!” (Screamed at Ed’s back) Ed: (slowly turns to Izzy.) Crew: (Fang looking shocked and saddened. Frenchie shakes his head very minutely, looking at Izzy.) Izzy: “The atmosphere on this ship is (word drawn out) fucked.” (working his jaw, looking down and to the side as he says this.) “Everyone knows why.” Ed: (nods once, sets his chin, walks forward.) “Well I don’t. Enlighten me.” Izzy: (smiling with mouth shut, suppressing a laugh. Shrugs.) Your feelings for Stede fuckin’ Bonnet.” Ed: (Nods as soon as Izzy says Stede’s name. Shoots him in the leg.) Izzy: (cries out in pain drops, clutching his knee.) Ed: “Frenchie.” Frenchie: “Yes?” Ed: “Congratulations, you are now first mate.” Frenchie: “Oh, no. I don’t, I don’t think I’m qualified.” Ed: “‘course you are mate. You can start by cleaning up that mess.” (tilts head towards Izzy. Turns to rest of crew, onlooking.) “And the rest of you, you throw this shit overboard and get suited up.” (claps twice, turns away.) “We’ve got a record to break.” Izzy: (still groaning in pain.)

So that was a lot.

Izzy has realized, over the course of this episode, that his relationship with Ed is not what he thought it was, is not what he wants it to be, and that Ed is still and probably always will be, in love with Stede fuckin’ Bonnet. This is why Izzy decides to say what he believes to be true - that the atmosphere is fucked because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. It’s important that we know this is not actually true - while Ed being ghosted by Stede did start his spiral, Ed was able to stop that spiral with the help of community and reaching for healthy coping mechanisms. Ed spiraled again after Izzy intervened, insulting, threatening, and demeaning him as discussed in the recap, and the spiral isn’t about his romantic feelings - it’s about, as s2e3 The Innkeeper firmly establishes, his feeling fundamentally unloveable and monstrous. Throughout s2e1, Ed is clearly denying the crew days off and meaningful rest out of pursuit of as many raids as possible. He’s trying not to touch the ground, flying high both via drugs and adrenaline, and his exchange with Frenchie at the end of the impossible makes it clear he doesn’t want to stop.

It’s also very important, that throughout this entire thing, the only crew member Ed actually hurts is Izzy, who doesn’t actually object to losing his toes. Now, I’m on record for being one of the many people who think Izzy is actually glad that the toe scene happens - I don’t think he actually especially wanted to lose his toes, but, he was glad to get back the Blackbeard who would cut off toes, and I do think he felt there was a certain intimacy in being the only one experiencing violence. Izzy is a masochist and has previously expressed delight in being the subject of violence - was very happy to be choked by Ed in s1ep10 - so while this is not safe or sane, I do think it’s consensual, in the sense that Izzy thinks this is part of their mutual love, their unspoken but deep and crucially intimate togetherness that leads them to know each other on the deepest level.

And then Ed says he can be replaced. And then Ed makes it clear that even when Izzy is emotionally vulnerable, Ed’s heart is with Stede. And Izzy realizes, he doesn’t have that place with Edward that he thought he did. He doesn’t have that special relationship. This is not intimacy, for Ed. And Ed shooting him and turning away isn’t even the final nail in that door.

Because, in s2e2, Izzy is still alive. The crew has hidden him in the walls and are trying to preserve his life, even as Izzy screams for them to kill him and calls them cowards for not doing so. The crew is gathering medicine, preparing an amputation, figuring out what to do with Izzy to try and keep him alive, and Izzy wants them to kill him. (Quote: “Kill me you fucking cowards! Kill me -”)

I would say it’s because he’s realized the relationship he devoted his life too and considered sacred, the relationship he considers most valuable… is not that to the man he loves. Ed replaced him and pirate code says the first mate should kill him. The first mate (Frenchie) refuses to kill him. Frenchie is not much for that, and neither is JIm. Both of them, having experienced a better life and place of work when Stede was captain and Ed was their co-captain, are trying to preserve Izzy’s life the best they can. Jim especially clings to the memory of when life meant something on this ship, even Izzy’s life.

Which - this makes sense coming from Jim, and I think it’s why they chose Jim, because Jim wasn’t present for Izzy being captain or the mutiny. Jim has the least complicated relationship with Izzy aside from Fang, who is notably not present in any of the scenes to do with rescuing Izzy, despite having been clearly shocked and appalled that Izzy was shot.

Izzy, is not thrilled to be being kept alive, but the fact that Izzy is kept alive, means that Izzy has to process his feelings - and face Ed again, who, having shot Izzy, mourned and sobbed, has woken up, cleaned himself up, cleaned his space out, and decided to seek death.

From Izzy.

This, I think, is the second most crucial moment in Izzy’s arc and transition, because Izzy thought he was someone of incredible importance to Ed, and he also thought that he knew and understood Ed better than anyone, and that Ed crucially, understood him just as well. He thought that even without any emotional honesty or vulnerability, they knew each other more than anyone else possibly could.

He thinks that Ed knows him.

And Ed comes to him, and they have the following exchange:

Ed: “Morning.” Izzy: “My leg?” (looking down his body.) Ed: (laughing) “Yeah. Oh, no, that’s gone now. Up in Leg Heaven.” (sets the smelling salts down, turns to look down at Izzy.) Izzy: (looks up at Ed.) “Have you come to take the other one?” Ed: “I think one’s quite enough. I just popped down to say a proper goodbye.” (reaches behind him, draws gun. Izzy: (watches the gun, looks down from Ed’s face to gun and back as Ed cocks and loads it.) Ed: (looking at the gun, not Izzy.) “Had a dream about you last night.” (flips gun to offer the handle to Izzy.) “Take it.” Izzy: “Oh, fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off.” (slaps at Ed’s hand, looking away from Ed.) Ed: “Hold it! Hold it.” (they are speaking over each other. Gets the gun in Izzy’s hand, directs it at Ed’s head. Looking at Izzy.) “I dreamt that ya killed me. Shot me right through the skull.” (moving the gun and Izzy’s hand, drawing it to his forehead, leaning closer. The camera moves between Ed’s face and Izzy’s.) Izzy: (smiles slowly then sneers.) “Good for you.” Ed: (blinks and nods slowly.) “It was good for me. It’s just what the doctor ordered.” (The camera moves from Ed’s face to Izzy’s showing him with that frown as Ed stands over him, leaving the gun in Izzy’s hand.) “Anyway, it wasn’t even like that.” (walks away from Izzy.) Izzy: (eyes tracking Ed as he walks away.) Ed: “Not in my dream.” (moves to stand at the foot of Izzy’s bed, back to Izzy.) “I was standing.” (inhales). “Just like this.” (Closes eyes. Spreads arms.) Izzy: (from his view, Ed is standing against the light, back open, arms spread. He blinks and raises the gun audibly.) Ed: (Swallows, holding his arms out.) Izzy: (smiles, sniffs audibly, dropping the smile as he clenches his teeth. Laughs harshly, mockingly, gun raised.) “Ohhhhh, ah, you scared, Eddie? Too scared - too scared to do it yourself? Ay.” (laughs) “Go on, clean up your own fucking mess. I’m not doin’ it. I’ve been doin’ it all my fucking life.” Ed: (looks down, disappointed. blinks.) Izzy: Fuck off. Ed: (nods, swallows.) “Farewell, old chum.” (whispered. He walks up the stairs and away from Izzy.) Izzy: (watches, shaking, nodding slowly himself, breath hitching.) Ed: (reaches the top of the stairs. A gunshot sounds. A creak. Ed lowers his eyes, looking down at something off camera. Nods. Exhales.) “I loved you” (a pause) “best I could.” The scene transitions from there, and the next we see of Ed, he is initiating plan two of suicide attempts: steering the ship into a storm and goading the ship to kill him or die with him.

But Ed’s deal is so many more posts from here. No, we’re focused on Izzy for the moment, so what did this whole exchange mean for him?

First, the thought that Ed had come to do more damage. That Ed was there for Izzy, that this was about Izzy. But it’s not. Ed has had enough of that. He notably does not apologize. Izzy notably does not seem to expect one. There is history here, and the last time they were in positions like this, the camera angle was flipped - Ed at Izzy’s right, a hand covering Izzy’s mouth, making him eat his toe and the idea that things could go as they had been, that the Blackbeard Izzy had schemed and tried to have a man killed over was back. This time, Ed is at Izzy’s left, with a gun, and he doesn’t touch Izzy except to hand over the gun.

This is where it’s so important that Izzy believed he and Ed knew each other best of all. Because in episode one, Izzy was getting worried for Ed, but it’s in episode 2, in this moment, as Ed hands him a gun, that he realizes Ed wants to die. And it’s in this moment that he realizes that Ed fully believes Izzy could. That Ed has taken these actions believing that they would lead Izzy to kill him. That Ed wants to commit suicide via Izzy, that he thinks killing Ed is something that Izzy wants, could want, could do.

This is Izzy, realizing that he and Ed don’t understand each other nearly as well as he thought. This is Izzy, realizing that Ed looks at him and sees a man who could and would kill him, when Izzy thinks that he couldn’t ever do that. This is Izzy, having the true final death knell on that relationship he believed they had, the intimacy he believed they had, the lack of a need for words. He thought all this time that he knew Ed best and that Ed knew him, and he doesn’t want to kill Ed - and he’s also hurt and angry and upset to know Ed genuinely thought he would. That Ed would come to him for this, because Izzy doesn’t think he could kill Ed, but Ed thinks he could.

In his mind, Ed should know that Izzy could never kill him, should trust him, should know without having to be told that it would never happen, but here’s Ed in the flesh, asking him to kill him.

It’s over, everything he thought was there.

And Ed? Ed did care about Izzy, in his own way, but every overture he made was denied, shot down, Izzy not interested in the bird guy, the ship, the clouds and how they contribute to a plan, the drugs, and like, Izzy is allowed to not be interested in any of those things - but these are the things Ed was interested in. These are the ways Ed tried to connect most recently, and Izzy shot them all down. To Izzy, there was a deep and intimate connection in spite of all of that. To Ed, every way he could connect with Izzy was shot down. He loved him the best he could, which wasn’t a way that could provide either of them what they wanted. Izzy had love for Ed, but that love could not be fruitful or nurturing to either of them, because it was unspoken and therefore ripe for misunderstanding.

Izzy stews down there in the ship, in his own thoughts, while Ed steers the ship into a storm and makes his last effort to die, to have it all end - to push the crew to killing him, or dying with him. And then he ties his leg up, makes his way above deck, shoots Ed in the arm to keep him from killing them all, and tries to kill himself instead, staring at Ed as he tries to shoot himself with the gun Ed wanted Izzy to kill him with. Despite the gun being aimed for the temple, he fails and falls back, leaving himself staring up as it rains on him, hiding any tears. Fang brings Ed down, and the crew gather together, Fang supporting Izzy’s weight, as Jim lifts a cannonball with a scream and prepares to bring it down on Ed’s head. Izzy watches without interfering.

EDIT: ADDED THIS SECTION:

A quick addendum: even though I watched episode 2 so many times, I didn't realize that Izzy tried to kill himself after Ed left the room! The gunshot that Ed hears is in fact Izzy trying and failing to shoot himself right then and there, in that moment that Ed departs. Izzy's forehead was so wet and the background of him falling back and water splashing was such that I truly thought that took place in the rain, and that he tried to shoot himself after shooting Ed. Thanks to @glamaphonic for letting me know. This does leave me even more certain that Izzy is motivated to do this because he has finally understood both that Edward wants to die, and that he and Edward never understood each other as well as he thought, which brings the last years of his life into question. He tried to kill himself, failed, and came up to stop Ed from bringing down the ship. It's not just that Izzy stews down there - as Ed departs, leaving Izzy behind, Izzy takes the shot. He tries and fails to kill himself, and wakes and climbs the steps to take the shot at Ed he couldn't before.

The next time we see Izzy is s1e3, The Innkeeper, when Stede crosses over to the Revenge and finds the crew amidst the wreckage. He’s eating a raw bird with the rest of the crew, and then is brought aboard the Red Flag. As Stede asks the crew about Ed’s location, Izzy watches him. He’s the only one not eating soup, hands tucked over his chest.

As Stede starts asking questions - dangerous questions for Izzy and the former crew of the Revenge - he walks over with a crutch.

Izzy: “Bonnet. Good to see you.” Stede: “Piss off, Izzy. I don’t wanna hear from you.”

Stede talks to the rest of the crew, as Izzy grimaces. Stede pays him no attention. The next time Izzy speaks up: Stede: “What about my painting? Why is it all stabbed up?” Izzy: (looking up through his hair, smiling.) “That was me.” Stede: (sighs and walks away without response.) Izzy: (blinks slowly, looking dismayed. We see him start to turn his head in Stede’s direction.)

Well, that seemed like someone trying to pick a fight, and disappointed he didn’t get one, too me. In Izzy’s mind, Stede is his romantic rival, the man Ed loves where he didn’t love Izzy, and, currently, also a threat, because if he keeps asking questions and reveals the mutiny, they’ll all be killed.

But Stede is one more thing. Stede is another dagger in Izzy’s heart, as we continue transcribing:

Izzy: “Don’t cry Bonnet. We just redecorated.” (has clearly been following Stede.) Stede: “I don’t mind, actually. I think the knives really help bring the place together.” (calmly stated before he walks away to look at the rest of the furniture.) Izzy: (drops his head, looking away as though trying to gather words.) Stede: (turns to look at Izzy.) “What’d you do with him? I know he wouldn’t have left by choice.” Izzy: (sniffles) I know you think you understand him. Stede: (interrupting) “He was either gonna watch the world burn or die trying, so which was it?” (leaning forward despite the considerable distance, still calm.) Izzy: (swallows, dips head. Starts moving forward, gritting teeth through words.) “Alright Bonnet. Have it your own way.” (stalking forward to Stede on his crutch.) “He went mad. He tortured the crew. He took my fuckin’ leg ‘cause I dared to mention your fuckin’ name.” (emphasis on the curses, slams fist when he says your name.) Stede: (in drawn breath, turns away) Izzy: “He was a wild dog, and we dealt with him like one.” Stede: “You sent him to Doggy Heaven.” Izzy: (stares in silence, head shaking. Flashes back to Ed laying in the rain, breathing out “Finally,” and laughing as Jim brings a cannonball down on him as Izzy watches. Stares. Turns to look away from Stede, face twisting. Shakes his head. Shuts his eyes. Breathes the word:) “No.” Stede: (turns to look back at him.) Izzy: “I could never do that.” (looks away, still not looking Stede in the face). “We deserved him on a beach (sniffles) left nature to do the rest. More than he would have done for us.” Stede: (turns away, breathing out.) Izzy: (continuing) “You and me did this to him. And we cannot let this crew suffer anymore for our mistakes.” Stede: (turns to look at Izzy) “Why would they suffer?” Izzy: “If your captain senses mutiny, she’ll kill us all. That’s pirate code.” Stede: (camera lingers on his face as he swallows.)

Doggy Heaven has a heavy meaning in this series, considering that Ed was supposed to send Stede to Doggy Heaven, and couldn’t because of his love for Stede. Ed couldn’t bring himself to kill Stede, but here is Stede, who Izzy views as a romantic rival, guessing that Izzy could kill Ed. Acknowledging that he, like Ed, believes that Izzy could kill Ed. Izzy, who thinks he couldn’t and wouldn’t and has love for Ed, and sees himself as loyal.

But Izzy did stand back as Ed was killed, and that’s why he reaches for dehumanizing language to defend the action - he calls Ed a wild dog and that they dealt with him like one.

(It’s the first time in the show that a white character makes a racist remark without immediate consequences. Before anyway says otherwise, yes it is always racist for white people to dehumanize a man of color. It is always racist to say a person of color is or was an animal or liken them to being an animal. He could have said that Ed was a danger to the crew in any number of ways but he reached for likening him to a creature less than human and yeah that’s a racist thing to do. I believe the show did not follow through with consequences for this action because it’s clear that Izzy is STILL trying to pick a fight with Stede.)

The commonality in all of these scenes with Stede are twofold. One, Izzy is trying to distract Stede from the truth of the mutiny and what the crew did (and the fact that Ed is still aboard the Revenge, left for dead [or as Izzy put it, for nature to do the rest]). The second is that Izzy is trying and failing to pick a fight - failing, because Stede won’t take him up on it. At all. Stede is not engaging with Izzy at this point outside of the practical matter of seeking information, and that’s all he has to spare for Izzy - he’s already told him to piss off once, and that’s as much energy as he spends on it, but Izzy comes at Stede antagonistically more than once - three times, actually, and I think it’s because if he has a fight with Stede, and Stede says all the things he’s thinking, about how awful Izzy is, how he’s a traitor, how could he have hurt Ed, any of those things, then Izzy can fight about it, and he can justify it to himself, and he can ignore the thought from now on, because it’s the same thought that Stede fuckin’ Bonnet is having, and those thoughts are worthless.

But Stede doesn’t give him that. Stede doesn’t give him a fight at all. Stede walks away from Izzy again and again and again and in doing so does not grant Izzy an out, an out that can ONLY come from Stede, because no one else is going to disagree with the mutiny.

Stede is the only one who could give him that fight, and Stede refuses. And Izzy continues to have to sit with his own thoughts and justifications and they clearly aren’t enough for him, because he’s continuing to push.

Izzy is also trying to protect himself and the crew, here. It’s very much about that. He is trying to keep himself and them from dying by being caught out for mutiny, but I think it’s interesting that it’s only here that he tries to take accountability for what he said and did to Ed, and it’s in service of avoiding what he’s actually done. Izzy says that he and Stede did this to Ed - this that resulted in, as he says, Ed going mad and torturing the crew and having to be mutinied and abandoned on the beach. Izzy needs Stede to feel equally responsible - so that Stede will help protect the crew, but also because I think Izzy is feeling guilty and has been, because he could watch Ed die, and he could hurt Ed, and he didn’t think of himself as that person, but he is and was, and thinking that he caused all of this himself is too much. Better to give some of it to Stede, and help the crew out as well as himself.

He had love for Ed, in his own way, and he thought they understood each other and had a partnership, but here’s Stede fuckin’ Bonnet, who only knew Ed for a matter of weeks, and understood him better than Izzy did and wouldn’t do the thing that Izzy did, and this is the final nail for Izzy, the thing he’s struggling with in this whole revelation that Ed didn’t have any romantic love for him, that there was no special intimate romance between them that didn’t need to be said or expressed or acknowledged with words or vulnerability to exist, because Stede takes one look at the situation and can summarize what happened. Stede knew that Ed would want to die, because you can’t actually burn the world down. You can say “burn the world or die trying”, but the only end result is dying trying.

And Izzy, I genuinely don’t think, understood that Ed wanted to die. Not until Ed offered him the gun. Not until Ed spelled it out. Izzy knew that Ed was fucked up over his feelings, but I don’t think he understood where they were leading.

But here’s Stede, and he did, and Izzy can’t take that, which is why once the truth is out and the mutineers are locked in the brig awaiting probable execution, Izzy tries to pick a fight one more time, even now that there’s nothing to distract Stede from.

Izzy: (hears footsteps and turns his head.) Stede: (comes to the brig, staring through the bars at Izzy, then the rest of the crew.) Izzy: (smiles) “Go on Bonnet, give me your worst.” Crew: (looks up at Stede slowly.) Stede: (Looks at all of them, silent and not visibly angry, somber. Tilts his head down, eyes closed. Opens his eyes, shoves against the bars and turns and walks away without a word.) Izzy: (Drops the smile. Stares forward into the distance, eyes visibly wet with tears, blinks several times).

So, clearly trying for a fight, wanting one, and continually being denied. Izzy is almost certainly grieving Ed, the relationship he thought they had, and also his leg, and Stede is the only other person here who would even possibly mourn Ed too, and Stede refuses to give him any response. Even when goaded, even knowing the truth, he has nothing to say to him. The next time Stede and Izzy are in the same room, Stede has concocted an escape plan, and doesn’t look at or speak to Izzy at all as he gives instructions and organizes the escape.

And when they have made it back to their ship, when they’re getting the wheel and rigging set for escape, they have a final conversation:

Izzy: (walks up behind Stede, who is watching the Red Flag.) “I just wanted to thank you for-” Stede: (walks away without letting him finish.) Izzy: (looks down, is left standing alone as live moves on the ship.)

Over the course of these three episodes, Izzy’s plot is realizing that he was fundamentally wrong about his relationship with Ed, his understanding of Ed as a person, and the depths of Ed’s feelings and despair. I think he’s also realizing that he was wrong about his relationship with Stede - he saw Stede as a romantic rival, and someone who hated him as much as he hates Stede, but given the opportunity to antagonize Izzy again and again, Stede refuses, because he doesn’t care about Izzy nearly enough.

Izzy has misunderstood the nature of his relationship as it were with both of these men, who are, and always were, predominantly, chiefly, and only, interested in each other.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers

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roguemaki · 4 months

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I finished transcribing the the Ichiro Ohkouchi (G Witch series composition and script) interview included with the Season 2 Vol.3 Blu-Ray.

Here's a translation of the snippet about Suletta and Miorine's initial concepts:

Miorine, the deuteragonist, is a cool character. Did you mean for her to be a contrast to Suletta? Ohkouchi Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury takes place on two main stages: the school and the corporate world. In the initial concept, Suletta was the protagonist of the school side, while you could call Miorine the protagonist of the corporate side. In those early drafts, Miorine stoically bore her burdens and was the mistress* of Suletta’s enemy – she was the direct opposite of her current character. The plan was to have Suletta and Miorine’s adverse circumstances reverberate against each other, until they finally meet and their destinies are transformed… something to that effect. But as we revised the scenario, we decided to place both of them in the school setting from the beginning. This way, the story became more straightforward and ignited more quickly – we could highlight their chemistry as soon as possible. Because we were writing an original series, instead of taking the audience’s attention for granted, we wanted to quickly start showcasing the story’s appeal. That's how we came up with the current version of Miorine, who has to take on the responsibilities of running a company while she attends the school. *TL Note: 愛人 (aijin); literal definition is “lover,” but its primary usage in modern Japanese is “a person, usually a woman, in a relationship with someone other than their legal spouse” aka “mistress”

Interesting that Mistress!Miorine was still a thing even after the pivot from the initial war-oriented concept to the school/corporate setting. The staff decided to make her a student character in order to bring Suletta and Miorine together earlier.

I will translate the rest of the interview as well but it's gonna take a while...

#g witch #mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #miorine rembran #suletta mercury #maki translates stuff #ichiro ohkouchi

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h0neytalk · 6 months

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Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

#arabic langblr #learning arabic #ref #reference #langblr resources #langblr #language lessons #language resources #language learning #mine

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neitherabaron · 1 year

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Really looking forward to the Chris Pine D&D movie, and I want to share some love for the original attempt at a D&D film from 2000!

Make no mistake, this is a so-bad-it’s-good film, with digital effects that are ropey as hell (especially when you consider that Fellowship of the Ring was already in post-production in 2000), a plot so disjointed it barely exists, (including a final battle that the main characters don’t even really take part in) and staggering levels of camp.

But it’s fucking charming.

Jeremy Irons (Scar from The Lion King) is the villain, an evil archmage who wants to overthrow an (not particularly benevolent anyway) empire with a plan that is never really clear but involves dragons?

Just look at this guy:

:readmore:

He walks about like that for the whole film, waggling his fingers slowly so you know he’s the baddie. He has an office where all the furniture and decor is made of human skulls and bones (a real location; I believe it’s a church somewhere?) and likes swooping his cape about. And Jeremy Irons himself is so bored, it’s hilarious. I seem to remember that in the dvd extras he’s interviewed alongside Gary Gygax and pretty much expresses open disdain for the whole process. He’s a serious actor! This is beneath him!

Elsewhere on the supporting cast, we have a henchman with spiky armour and inexplicably blue lips that are always pouting in a way that seems vaguely sexual; Tom Baker(!) as a wood elf Druid who only exists in order to say something vaguely mystic about dragons for 20 seconds before disappearing forever; and Richard O’Brien in full fey bastard mode as a camp thieves’ guild master who challenges the party to…find a crystal…in a deadly maze filled with traps and puzzles. Like in that game show he used to present…I forget the name. I wanna say Diamond Labyrinth? 😂

As for the party, it’s all delightfully one-note characters. We’ve got a rogue? bard? who goes from being a selfish dickhead to altruistic freedom fighter on a dime. Some dialogue suggests he’s some kind of chosen one, but the plot never actually explores or resolves that. Then there’s a wizard who doesn’t like poor people, an elf fighter who doesn’t like anyone, a dwarf who’s so out of it he barely knows he’s there and is never given any character motivation to explain why he’s travelling with these guys; and some dude called Snails, whose personality is…he’s scared? Basically Shaggy without Scooby.

These guys have to save a princess from Jeremy Irons, who wants to kill her because she has friendly dragons or something. But here’s the great thing: the party have very little reason to want to rescue her (most of them as non-mages are actively oppressed and even enslaved by the ruling mage class of which she is the figurehead) and they never actually *meet* her until the very end of the film, after the evil archmage has pretty much already been defeated - by the princess and her dragons btw, not the party, who basically teleport a magic wand to her and then just watch.

They rescue her because in order for the film to be a film, there needs to be an end goal, even if it’s totally arbitrary. And that’s what I love. Isn’t that just so reflective of a slightly haphazard campaign of Dungeons & Dragons with a party that’s hastily thrown together?

And there are more similarities that compound this feeling of watching some randoms play a home campaign. The plot as I mentioned is disjointed. It’s not a series of events that flows or has any kind of pacing - the movie is a series of 15 minute adventures that don’t really connect to each other or build to the ending. As if the director is a dungeon master arbitrarily stringing together modular adventure sourcebooks! Let’s storm a castle for reasons! Great, now let’s raid a tomb. No, I don’t know why. At one point a party member just bounces from the plot and is never seen again, just like that player in your group who never shows up and you all just move on.

It’s like the writers transcribed a home campaign, warts and all, into script form and then somehow successfully pitched it as a B-movie. Though the Chris Pine version will doubtlessly be a much better movie, Dungeons & Dragons (2000) is perhaps the most accurate possible dramatic presentation of D&D as it actually is in practice for most people playing it. What could be more charming than that?

#dungeons & dragons #D&D

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sleepanonymous · 8 months

Text

I think I’m mentally in a good enough headspace to finally write about this. This will be a ranty post, so skip it if you’d like. I’m also not going to pretend I’m not wildly speculating here. I do not know Vessel, nor am I a mental health professional. This is just me rambling into the void; I did my best to make it coherent.

So, to start, we’ll need the message from Vessel that he played during his The Room Below set and the text on screen from the Fall For Me music video. Since I’ll call back to them, I’ve transcribed both below.

Fall For Me:

The truth is I am due a harsh lesson in truth itself and how bitter it can be. Will you teach me? The truth is I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost, I am no god. The truth is, I want, to want, to live, and so do you. I just can’t do this any longer. I am afraid. Are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go. So for now let me live as a living drama of your pain. If we are to be submerged let us be submerged together.

Vessel’s Room Below Message:

We are here to silently connect. To project ourselves onto one another. We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship. Some time ago, I was given a message. It was a message that originated from one of you. Someone possessed by a strong desire to tell me something. The message read very simply: You saved me. I have thought about this message a great deal since. It left me with a feeling that I have somehow been mistaken for someone else. I did not save anyone. I do not believe I have the capacity to save anyone. All I have ever given anyone was a small window into the emotional waiting room of my mind. I do so whilst doing everything in my power to minimize my own vulnerability. In this way, I am selfish. I chose not to give what others can, and yet I am the benefactor of this thankful praise. |I experience a great deal of pain in my life. However, I do not believe I have suffered as you have suffered. Perhaps that is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered. I would also like to take this chance to tell you something. To love oneself is not the easy task we are sometimes told it is. We are all limited by something. We are all guilty of something. My own path towards a place of greater self-acceptance is paved with the art that I create. It is a path that I continue to stumble down at the expense of everything else. I am nothing without this music. I am nothing without this mask. So, in this sense, the message I received was true, but only in an inverse sense. The truth is I did not save anybody. You saved me.

For a bit of background, the Fall For Me music video was released in September of 2021, right before the release of TPWBYT. The Room Below show was initially set for January 2022. It was postponed twice due to COVID-19 and was finally set for the end of April 2022. To be honest, most bands would have just cancelled the show after it was postponed, especially if it was a single show, not part of a tour, and not meant for the entire band to be present. According to an online article, the show itself even started half an hour later than it was supposed to. Again, I’m wildly speculating, but Vessel wanted to do this show specifically to deliver his Room Below message. He doesn’t communicate any other way with his fans aside from the occasional chuckle on stage and his awful (/affectionate) heart hands. So what else was he supposed to do in order to respond to that person who told them that he, specifically, saved their life?

Let me back up a bit. Again, this is speculation, but I believe this person with their strong desire to communicate their message to Vessel did so before the music video for Fall For Me was released in September of 2021. It’s possible the message came after, but before makes the most sense (at least to me). I say this because the music video for the song has no direct connection to the lyrics. The base subject matter for Fall For Me is about longing and wanting someone who does not want you back, at least not in the same way.

On the other hand, the music video is Vessel (or a character he is portraying, if that makes you feel more comfortable) committing suicide by sea, and, upon first watch, the words on the screen are his suicide note. With closer examination, this is not the case. The words on the screen, though some statements do seem like they belong in a suicide note, are more like a precursor to Vessel’s Room Below speech, especially with the “I want to want to live, and so do you” quote. Even more than that, the statements show Vessel disproving himself and his importance to Sleep Token fans.

“I am ugly”, “I am inadequate”, “I am selfish”, “I am nothing without this mask.” With these four quotes, I’ll move on to the second part of this post. These four statements are coming from a man with severely diminished self-worth. Plainly, Vessel is struggling, or, to use his word, he is suffering. Without pulling more from his music, these quotes alone are a tell-tale sign that Sleep Token’s anonymous marketing strategy has backfired in the most spectacular way for Vessel. While it has captured the attention of over two million monthly listeners on Spotify and garnered over ninety-nine million views on YouTube, the anonymity has ruined Vessel’s self-esteem.

With the above stated, I believe he’s still on board with keeping up the anonymity of Sleep Token. To be frank, I think he’s the only member of Sleep Token who is still 100% on board with the gimmick. The Vesselettes recently unmasked back in July 2023 (good for them; they deserve to be recognized and praised for their talents), and there are multiple accounts of II, III, and IV walking around festivals and venues unmasked, sometimes even wearing their full stage costumes sans masks. Vessel relies on his masked identity like a crutch to deliver his art. He does so because he believes he has to. He plainly stated this fact to the six hundred people at the Lafayette with him in April of 2022 and, by conduit, all of Sleep Token’s fans who have heard the multiple recordings and edits of this message.

The other members, II, III, IV, even the Vesselettes, the old keyboardist, OG IV, and 2020 session player Sam Kubrick, have all achieved variable success without the Sleep Token façade in the public eye. But not Vessel. The best he had was performing on a small stage hosted by his former university at a music festival in 2014. Before that, he struggled to get subscribers on YouTube and played open mic nights at a local café. Vessel didn’t achieve any recognition or fame until after he put on the mask and bought entirely into the idea that his music, his art, should be wholly separated from who he is as a person.

This mindset reminds me of a Miley Cyrus quote (stick with me; I promise this is relevant) from a few years back. She did a podcast interview and said the following about her Hannah Montana persona: “When I looked like myself, when I didn’t have the wig on anymore, no one cared about me. I wasn’t a star anymore.” Her quote helped put Vessel’s statement, “It left me with a feeling that I have somehow been mistaken for someone else”, into perspective. I saw that snippet on YouTube a couple of weeks ago, and it was like everything instantly snapped into place involving Vessel’s insistence on remaining anonymous.

With the above said, do I believe that the anonymity schtick is a trash idea and that the band should ditch it? Absolutely not, because it works. Without anonymity, the band would not have blown up the way they did after The Summoning dropped in January 2023. Without anonymity, there wouldn’t be extra layers of added lore. Without anonymity, there would be no mini ARGs for the fans curious enough to wonder why there are no credits on the songs their streaming services are suggesting to them (thanks for fucking that up, by the way, Apple Music. A+ shitshow right there). We would not have such emotional, beautiful, heart-wrenching songs without Vessel’s anonymity. Vessel has said this last point himself with his quote about minimizing his vulnerability. Would Vessel have had the confidence to put out songs like Bloodsport, Atlantic, High Water, Missing Limbs, or even Vore without his mask to shield him? In Vessel’s words, all he has given his fans is “a small window into the emotional waiting room of [his] mind.” But what a gifted, beautiful, turbulent, fractured, and brilliant waiting room we have been allowed to see.

In closing, whoever it was that gave Vessel the message about saving their life, I sincerely hope they were in attendance for The Room Below show, and I hope they heard Vessel’s response. I hope they both, as well as anyone else touched by this interaction between the two, have found support channels for the weight of their pain. I hope that they are happy.

TL;DR Vessel is a beautiful, talented, and humble human being who has and continues to save lives with his music. He deserved so much more attention than he got before Sleep Token. I want Vessel to know this (even though he will never see this post). However, I also do not think that he and the other boys should not drop Sleep Token’s anonymity act at the expense of their comfort.

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #the room below #text post #sleepanon rant #just to be clear #i’m not attacking vessel #or sleep token #or their label/management #or the way they conduct their business #this is my two brain cells rubbing against one another to fire off a neuron in my skull #shocking i know #but it happens sometimes #cw mental health #cw self harm #cw suicide #cw depression #if this needs another cw let me know and i will add it

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creepysora · 1 month

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Translating Stolas' Grimoire

So, in Season 1 Episodes 6 and 7, we are finally getting a good, readable look at the grimoire and the spells within.

...Huh. Those look like actual runes. I wonder if they say actually say anything? (Spoiler: They do).

From the shape of the runes, and the specific presence of some of them, we can deduce that these are probably Anglo-Frisian Futhorc runes, which were used in Frisia and Anglo-Saxon England from the 5th century CE onwards into the Middle Ages, and developed from Elder Futhark.

In order to decipher them, we must first make our best attempt at transliterating them.

The first page says this, from what I could make out:

ᚹᚩᚻ ᛏᚩ ᚩᛈᛖᚾ ᛏᚦᛁᛋ ᛋᛏᚢᛈᛁᛞ ᚠᚢᚳᚳᚷ ᛈᚩᚱᛏᚪᛚ

These runes are not all that easy to decipher, especially ᚪ and ᚩ look really similar. These are basically a and o, respectively.

But I think I can work with this. Let's see what it comes out to...

"w a/o h to open tthis stupid fuccig portal"

Having tyr, t ᛏ and thorn, th ᚦ right next to each other is odd. Let's clean this translation up and...

"Wah to open this stupid fucking portal"

That's an amazing spell. Incredibly deep, powerful magic right there.

The second page seemingly says this:

ᚹᛖᛋᛖ ᚱ ᛒᚪᛞ ᛞᚱᚪᚻᛁᛟᛋ

"wese r bad drahioes"

Less clear, but I believe there might have been a mixup between oedil, oe ᛟ rune, and ing or lng, the ᛝ rune. If we posit this mixup as true, we can translate this as...

"these r bad drawings"

Amazing spellwork.

I'm so happy the work of transcribing these was absolutely worth it to learn two very involved and complex spells.

Now... I recall there was a good look at the page about Asmodean Crystals, with a lot of text to boot! I'll decipher those in a seperate post, so stay tuned!

#Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss meta #Stolas Goetia #Helluva Boss Stolas #helluva boss analysis

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cherhys · 1 year

Text

Colliding Visions

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: With a publication hopefully on the way, you are eager to return to your work in the library's lower levels. Only, it seems someone found your work first and had some edits to make.

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: This is my first written piece on here! I’ve been lurking in the community for a long time but I finally decided to join the party. Let me know what you think (I’m so nervy)! ♡

Your evening trek down to the library is as quiet as ever. Even the usual shuffling of papers and shifting of robes is absent as you trudge further down. It’s only in the depths of the library, far away from any wandering priestesses, that you find peace to further your research on the cosmos. You only recently moved to the Night Court in order to be closer to the source of your studies. With a hopeful publication lined up, your research is more critical than ever–you’re eager to transcribe your work from your brainstorming chalkboard.

The light dust in the air has you sneezing, particularly sensitive after a recent illness. All the more reason for you to return to your work as soon as you can. You quicken your steps down the aisles, the light clicking of your heeled boots the only sound. You’re sure the study nook has gathered dust, but nothing a quick sweep won’t fix.

Only, as you approach your secret working space you see that where you expected dust, there is none. Instead, what was once a beautiful amalgamation of all your thoughts, dutifully coordinated in different colours and symbols, has been altered into some unreadable jumble of who knows what. Your colour scheme? Gone. Your legend? Non-existent. Not to mention all your formulaic theories on the projected collision of stars? Re-written, crossed out, and vandalized.

The rapid beating of your heart matches the rush of blood in your head. This is months of work, scribbled and desecrated. Sure, you have paper copies but nothing that was as seamlessly organized and so thoroughly encapsulated your thoughts. Oh, Cauldron you were going to be sick. You place a hand on the bookshelf to steady your suddenly weak knees–how could someone think they have the agency to destroy your work? The arrogance, the– the–

In your frantic state, you don’t even process the figure standing before your (ruined) work, red chalk in hand, until he begins to scratch at the board.

“What,” Cauldron, your vision is as red as that chalk, “do you think you’re doing?”

His head snaps over to you, and the male blinks a few times as if he too, was so engrossed in the work on the chalkboard that he failed to notice your approach. Quickly he straightens up, and his figure is now all the more imposing. His shoulders are broad, and intricate dark swirls peek over the edge of his loose shirt. Violet eyes—not unlike the very night sky you study—are wide as saucers, perched above perfectly plump lips in the shape of an O. He’s absolutely stunning, despite the smudge of chalk on his sculpted jaw.

“Well?” Your jaw is so tight, the grinding of your teeth could be heard in the stifling silence.

“Oh, I- Well…” For someone who you’re sure is normally a composed male, his tan cheeks are slowly pinking. His eyes dart back and forth between you and his hand, still poised over your precious formulas.

“You dare ruin my work, and when questioned, all you can do is stand there like some air-headed prick?” You cross your arms to prevent yourself from lunging across the short space and using the very chalk that defiled your work to show him just how pissed you were.

“Well, ruin seems quite a stretch considering you overlooked some fundamentals that I so graciously filled in,” He gestured towards the board, demon chalk in hand. At your stunned silence, he clears his throat and plasters on an easy smile that borderlines on a wince. “See, in this particular formula–”

Is he serious?

“I beg your pardon?” Your eyes are narrow slits but you’re sure he can see the malice in them as he flinches a little at your tone. “Not only do you desecrate my work while playing scholar, but now you insult it?” The hiss of your voice echoes in the chamber and you hope it clangs around his empty skull for good measure. However, the male’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Insult? No, never–It’s quite brilliant actually.” He turns back to gaze at the chalkboard, awe clear across his face. Now it's your turn to be confused. Had he not just accused you of missing information? The retort on your tongue dies as you take in the male appreciating the theories and numbers on the board. His profile is just as stunning from the side, from the line of his aquiline nose to the elegant curl of his ridiculously long lashes.

Fuck, if he hadn’t been so pretentious as to scribble over someone else’s work you might have been inclined to map him like the constellations you so coveted.

With a shake of your head, you swiftly approached the male. You placed your hand over where his own hovered with the chalk before any more red monstrosities were added to the board. He peered down between lowered lashes at where your hands touched. His large hand was a warm comfort beneath your own but no matter how gorgeous this male was, his behaviour was unacceptable.

“I have no idea what your intentions were but,” you hastily squeezed his hand, hoping to impart the seriousness of the situation to him, “This is something I have been working on for a very long time–not to mention it was publish-ready; but now?”

You let go of his hand and stumbled back a few steps to lean against the table. Your shoulders sagged under the implications of the situation, and you could do nothing but bury your face in your hands.

“Now, it’s gone. Cauldron knows how long it will take me to get it as it was.”

You knew you should’ve just transcribed the work all those weeks ago, fever or not. Illness be damned, it forced you home early and now here you were. If only you weren’t so stupid as to leave the research so vulnerable—

Those same warm hands snapped you out of your reverie as they gently settled over your own. The beautiful male stood before you, tilting your head towards him, his eyes full of sincere regret. Their violet hue sparkle with their own stars, but his remorse dampens their glow.

“I apologize for my behaviour. I realize it was unacceptable but when I saw this impeccable research, I-” He swallows and slowly moves closer, his body bracketed by your legs, “I simply had to read it. So when I noticed something amiss, it was only natural to try and remedy it.”

His eloquent words don’t take away from the sting of their meaning–publication ready my ass. You wilted slowly, mind going blank as you try to sift over what he could possibly be referring to. Sensing your retreating thoughts he quickly tugged you off of the table.

“Here, look.” The male placed you in front of him, his hands on your shoulders as he leaned in. His breath lightly stirred your hair and had goosebumps running down your spine. His sea and citrus smell overwhelmed your senses, and was that jasmine?

Before he could continue his explanation, a priestess rounded one of the nearby bookshelves with a heavy tome in hand, “I have the book you requested High… Lord.” Her sentence tapered off as she glanced between you and the High Lord, slightly abashed at having interrupted.

High Lord.

You stiffened in his hold while the male–the High Lord Rhysand–smoothly regained composure as if his front hadn’t been deliciously pressed up against your back.

“Yes, thank you, dear. You’ve been a great help.” With a winning smile that surely got him any help he wanted, Rhysand recovered the book from the priestess who quickly scurried away.

Not one to be bothered, Rhysand turned to you with the tome in hand, displaying its title, Record of Stellar Dynamics Volume 142.

“See, I believe that in the most recent chapter…Hmm…” He hastily sat down and flipped through the pages, eager to find what he was looking for. As he scanned the pages you followed the elegant sweep of his finger.

“I didn’t realize that the High Lord of the Night Court dabbled in such topics. I would’ve thought taxes were more your thing?” You hoped the imperious tone of your voice was enough to distract from the blush on your cheeks.

Rhysand paused his perusing, flashing you a feline grin, “Yes, I dabble as you said. Both in your field of study and ah, taxes.” Despite his cocky response, you had no doubt the dusting of pink on his cheeks matched your own.

“Ah, so it's a private hobby then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, pouting slightly.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me High Lord.” You placed a hand over your heart for dramatic effect.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, returning to the book, “Oh how encouraging. And Rhys will suffice.”

The nickname gave you pause–not High Lord or even Rhysand, but Rhys? If he wished to behave this familiar, you had no issue with that. You huffed and pointed your finger at him, unwilling to back down, “Well Rhys, High Lord or not, no tampering with my work.”

Rhys slowly rose from his seat, your gaze following up, and up to his full height. He smirks and grabs your pointing finger, only to bring your hand to his hard chest, over his heart. “Only if you ask nicely” he purrs, a devious twinkle in his eye. Ah, there are those stars.

You quickly pull your hand back and turn away willing your heart to slow. Two can play this game.

“And who’s to say I’d approach the likes of you, in any manner at all?” You innocently tilt your head, a coy look on your face. His eyes scanned torturously slow down your face, pausing at your lips as you held your breath.

“You may be curious, considering the information I’ve stumbled upon may be the final piece to your research,” Flirting momentarily forgotten, your eyebrows rise in doubt. The smirk on his face grows impossibly wider, as he points to the passage in the book and a particularly red-scribbled section of the board.

“Look at this record. When you take into account this recent gravitational event–”

“It’s different for this particular globular cluster, thus changing the formula. The stellar collisions occur at a higher frequency.” Your mouth gapes at Rhys’s discovery–how had you missed this?

“Yes!” He’s practically vibrating with energy, the smile on his face spreads so large, even the cosmos would bow before it. He’s exquisite.

You gape back and forth between the board and the heavy tome. You wobble and his strong arms steady you.

“Holy shit,” A giddy laugh escapes you as it begins to sink in that, not all is lost. In fact, quite the opposite. Things have never been clearer. “Holy shit!”

Rhys lets out a booming laugh that resounds in the space, your chest filling further at the lovely sound. You both stare at each other, beyond words.

“Who would have thought the High Lord was such a nerd?” You teased, squeezing his forearms. He gently squeezed back and pulled you closer, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Only when a beautiful woman presents me with equally beautiful work,” The excitement of a few moments ago has worn off his face, replaced by something softer as he gazed at you. Your breath caught in your chest, thrown by the honest compliment.

You bit your lip, an uneasy feeling beginning to bubble in your chest, “I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous.” Rhysand vehemently shook his head, a severe look on his face.

“You have nothing to apologize for darling. Good idea or not, I should have restrained myself,” His lips twitched, “Although it was a pretty brilliant idea.”

You smacked his forearm and was rewarded with that delightful laugh again.

“Regardless, consider this my apology and my thanks.” Before he could settle, you surged forward and delicately kissed his plush lips. He jolted at first but slowly melted into the embrace, his calloused hands migrating up your arms to gently cup your face. His kiss was as exquisite as the rest of him, and you both pulled away hopelessly out of breath. You licked your bottom lip, savouring the delectable taste of him. His sultry eyes tracked the movement and he couldn’t resist leaning down to place another chaste but impassioned kiss on your reddened lips.

“I may scribble on more of your work if your apologies are this delightful, darling.” He whispered against your lips, pulling away to look at you fully. He truly was the most handsome male you’ve ever beheld. The mussed raven hair and swollen lips only enhanced his beauty.

You scoffed. Cocky male. “Don’t even think about it. Although, you’ll have to increase your efforts if you’d like any more thanks.”

That same feline grin was back to grace his features, “Then I better get to work.”

#rhysand #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #acosf #rhysand/reader #acotar x reader #rhys x you #rhys/reader #cherhys

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thenightfolknetwork · 3 months

Note

Thisss is a bit of an odd question, I think but...

I want to get into the 'dating sphere', but I'm stuck with a few caveats:

-I receive rather decent work in the village closest to me (it's remote enough I had to send in the post to a friend to transcribe) so I can't find myself moving to someplace too much more populated, but also my next point:

-I'm a very anxious person on account of the reaction most people have to me. I'm one of the more ophidian genuses which definitely shows in the face, a bit tall for a lady, and my tail tends to be a bit...adventurous. Most people that ask for my spellwork don't stay long after getting their product. I can see the fear or worry in their faces. It leaves me rather self-conscious to the point I have to put a homo-sapien disguise to gather supplies in-town.

that leads into my final problem. There is somebody who's shown interest in me. Rather he's interested in the disguise I wear in town. He's rather handsome and its hard not to fantasize being more than acquaintances, but...I'm scared of getting my hopes up if I ever reveal to him that I'm not really what I show on the surface. That I'll be back at square one.

Do I try actively seeking out folks who enjoy my real form, at the cost of maybe having to move? or is there a way I can navigate this one right here without him thinking I'm leading him on or tricking him?

I'm so sorry you've been subjected to such unkindness, reader. The difficulties faced by liminal folk in rural and otherwise isolated communities are all too often overlooked, or dismissed by urban nightfolk who suggest their rural counterparts simply move away – as if there is anything simple or reasonable in such a suggestion.

It is entirely right that you should not only hope but expect to be treated with kindness and respect in your local community, no matter how isolated that community may be. But in order to get that support, you first need to show your community that you need it.

Presenting as sapio when you go into town may be more comfortable, but comfort must sometimes give way to necessary, healthy vulnerability. I worry that by habitually hiding your liminal nature, you may be compounding your self-consciousness rather than alleviating it.

You have nothing to hide, reader. There is nothing wrong with having an adventurous tail or being all “for a lady” (a lady of what genus, might I ask?) Other people's discomfort with you is their problem to deal with, not yours.

Besides, the world is very different for the community today than it was just a few years ago. Thanks to major advancements in both communication technology and liminal liberation, your neighbours are used to seeing people of different genuses in the media, and very likely will have experience with nightfolk in their places of work or even among their friends and family.

I encourage you to set aside your romantic concerns for the time being and work on building up your confidence to be yourself in public. You don't have to cast off your disguise all at once, but it is well worth exploring spaces and times where you feel able to venture forth in sapio society without pretending to be one of them.

Some people will not respond well. This is sadly to be expected, but again – not your fault and not your issue to solve. But I feel sure that you will be pleasantly surprised, and that your community will, by and large, rise to the challenge. And, with any luck, this “rather handsome” somebody will be among them.

#answered #monstrous agonies #the nightfolk network

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skydigiblogs · 2 months

Text

oc lore transcribed below the cut (god i'm so sorry for the damage glaze did to this)

it's really long below the cut so be warned

Okay, Lore Time.

"REV" the Apocalymon

he/him, they/them (plural)

a reincarnation of the previous Apocalymon, who inherited their feelings and incorporated the data of Meicoomon to adopt their body for travel; this incorporated data may be responsible for the more tame mutation of this incarnation

dislikes Homeostasis for its role in maintaining the Digital World's constants which allow Apocalymon to continue reforming and accumulating new data, but has the hindsight of the last Apocalymon's campaign against it, despite resenting what they see as a fundamental hypocrisy in Homeostasis's behaviors

wandering the Digital World in search of both purpose and the original source of the distortion that birthed their predecessors

Rev is able to emote slightly with his mask, the circuitry moving almost like eyebrows

The "Roaming Mode" Rev uses condenses the data of his full body into a body capable of leaving the Dark Area. Switching between these two forms is possible, but requires a great deal of energy.

However, Rev's RM should not be underestimated, as they still possess the capability to channel the power of the Dark Area. While RM imposes severe physical limitations on Rev, they are willing to fight if provoked.

This does not necessarily mean that Rev is as quick to turn to violence as their predecessors, however. In RM, Rev is able to approach weaker Digimon without risking their wellbeing simply due to the distortive nature of an Apocalymon's data. Digimon that do not make assumptions based on his appearance are Digimon that Rev spends a great deal of time around. Now that they have the luxury of enjoying the Digital World, even in such a limited capacity, they take time to savor their experiences.

In order for a smaller body to function, Rev required modification to his data to allow for a more balanced circulatory system. Converting between forms takes energy to do without causing great damage to the Digital World, but maintaining RM requires energy as well. With better data circulation, RM can be feasibly maintained for an indefinite period of time.

[ID 1: Flat-color artwork of an Apocalymon OC named Rev. He is a humanoid Digimon with a half-mask covering the top of his face. Gold circuitry is visible on the top of the mask, but the rest of the pattern is on the side of the mask not visible. His left eye, which faces the viewer, has a red scar-like mark over the mask. Rev has shoulder-length white hair. His body appears emaciated and distorted, with a cape growing out of his own skin and nonhuman proportions. The ends of the cape end in DNA helix-patterns. Three pipe-like structures stretch from the bottom of his torso through his knees and feet, and from his back to the base of his head respectively. His torso ends in a knit of veins akin to the roots of plants, and are tied in pentagonal structures ending in clawed feet. The claws on his feet are the same bright pink and sharp style as the ones on his hands.]

[ID 2: The same artwork as above, with additional notes and sketches. There are two sketches of Rev's right eye facing the viewer, demonstrating his ability to emote using the circuitry patterns on his mask. There is also a rudimentary sketch of the full geometric body of Apocalymon, a structure comprised of 12 pentagons. Another sketch shows Rev gesturing menacingly with his cape flared out. There is also a sketch of Rev kneeling next to Botamon. Botamon is a small digimon reminiscent of a cat's head, with round ears and bright eyes on a black body. The final sketch is a simplified torso sketch of Rev, demonstrating where the black pipe connects the base of his skull and the small of his back. The notes are transcribed in the read more below, as there is a lot of them.]

#digimon #digimon adventure #apocalymon #digimon art #digimon fanart #sky's art #digimon oc #his name is REV in all caps but for the ID i put it as Rev because iirc anything in all caps is read letter by letter #correct me if i'm wrong please i'm very new to image id shit #//passes out// that's the last of the week long apocalymon art chaos though yipee #i finished this while watching digimon con last night

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pencil-peach · 7 months

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G Witch Onscreen Text: Episode 5

Part SEIS of my attempt to transcribe and discuss all the text that appears on screens and tablets in G Witch, because I got that dog in me! This is episode 5, "Reflection in an Icy Eye"

<< Episode 4, if you so dare.

Till and Suletta Boiled Eggs Indulgence.

Shall we begin?

TEXT: WINNER PILOTING DEPARTMENT KP003 ELAN CERES F/D-19 ZOWORT 7 WINS 0 LOSS 0 TIE

At the end of Elan's 3 v 1 duel, we get a look at the Zoworts ID and the fact that he has 7 wins and no losses.

When Bel is speaking to the Peil witches, we get another look at Aerial's profile. What's new here are the terms on the bottom right, those being

PMET LINK PMET SUBLINK BIOINFO LINK PILOT DATA LINK MS DATA LINK INTEGRATED PMET LINK

I could not tell you what any of these mean, BUT I have recorded them for convenience.

The text on Nuno's tablet is very difficult to make out, but we can for sure read CONTROL SYSTEM on the header at the top, so we know that's what he's looking at here. I'll give my best guess as to what the 3 sub-headers say, from top to bottom.

I-MSEACTRL-SYS I-MSEECTRL-SYS 5011-ONCODE

If my transcription is right, the first two are probably meant to be read as something like I - MOBILE SUIT [EA/EE] CONTROL SYSTEM

I'm not as confident in the bottom one though, i think i have ONCODE correctly but I'm not sure if the first half is really 5011, which would be Aerial's Permet Code ID. But it's the only interpretation that makes sense to me because I can only read it otherwise as SETH-ONCODE. And I have my doubts about that one.

Some broader looks at Aliya's divination table

Of course, everyone and their mother would tell you this, but Aliyah points to the stone that landed on the Roman Numeral for 12, wondering if it represents 'a brother' of Suletta's. This is foreshadowing the Eri reveal, as Aerial + the Eri clones that pilot each one of its GUND Bits adds up to 12, meaning Suletta has 12 sisters.

Of course, the stone in the middle represents her mother, and Aliyah comments that it's very big.

I can't help but wonder if Miorine is represented somewhere here as well?

This scene is where we finally get to see the title of the book Elan is reading. As I stated before, this book is The World as Will and Representation (Translated in the show proper as The World as Will and Idea) by Arthur Schopenhauer. The importance of this book to understanding Elan's character cannot be overstated, and it's worthy of its own post, but simplified as far down as possible (and also acknowledging that I have yet to read the essay myself, it's long...I'll get to it though, I promise...)

The two most essential ideas of this work in their relation to Elan are that:

All human suffering and conflict is a result of the "Will" that exists within us: An ever striving force that pushes us to pursue our innermost desires.

In order to reduce the inherent pain and suffering that comes with life's cruelty, one can minimize their desires, and deny the force of their will.

In simpler terms, if you never desire anything from your life, even the idea of living itself, you will never be made to suffer from the lack of it.

From the shows beginning, we can see how Elan completely embodies this philosophy. He denies love, he denies his emotions, he never acts of his own accord, only following the orders he's been given by Bel and the Peil witches.

But that changes when he meets Suletta, because Suletta awakens within him one of his deepest desires. To find someone who is like him, someone who understands him.

But when he realizes that Suletta isn't an Enhanced Person, that he's still completely alone, he can't handle it.

Because he allowed himself to want for something, he invited suffering back into his life when it was something he was not allowed to have.

And now that he's opened his heart to desire, it's not something that can be closed. For the rest of our time with him, we see how this incident with Suletta has broken the spell. When he duels Guel, he tortures him. Shaddiq repeatedly acknowledges that there's been something different about him ever since he was with Suletta.

In the multiple scenes when Elan sees the candle of the birthday cake when he closes his eyes, the flame represents how his will has been relit. It's the flame of his desire. And despite his continued insistence that it doesn't exist, that he still doesn't want anything, doesn't need anything, the flame only keeps growing.

It sparks up when Suletta sings the birthday song to him.

And it all comes to a head during their duel. He immediately starts listing off the things Suletta has that he doesn't. Friends, family, a past and future, even hope. And laments that it's just not fair, demands to know why she can't let him have one thing.

When he fully accepts himself, and remembers the person who celebrated his birthday, he realizes that it was wrong to assume that he had nothing, and to continue to believe that he could never have anything.

But, tragically, in fully accepting his desire, he also had no choice but to accept the suffering that comes with it. And, well.

Yknow.

Anyway in this scene we can see the path that he wants Suletta to take in the testing sector.

We can see that Lauda's Dilanza is registered as such in Asticassia, and its ID code is MD-003 1L. Despite being registered as such, both Elan and Rouji refer to it as "Regolith" in this duel.

This is the Pharact's navigation system. At the bottom, the warning says: ALERT: MALFUNCTION JOINT SENSOR: ACTIVE MINOR DAMAGE FROM [???] STATIC ELECTRICITY.

We can see that the Pharact is showing that the static electricity is damaging its joints. This is where Elan gets the idea of how to defeat Guel.

TEXT: (top to bottom) ALERT DMG CTRL-SYS ON

MD-R-0099[?] RIGHT LEG - [???] DAMAGE

MD-O HEAT AXE - RECOVERED

This shows up on the display when Guel is hit by the Pharact's stun beams for the first time. Though my transcription might not be fully accurate, we can at least glean from this that mobile suit components seem to have their own internal codes used by their various systems. That's cool!

When Guel is immobilized by the static electricity, the warning on his screen reads ANAMOLY DETECTION

Bonus: When Guel first makes it through the stun lasers and approaches Elan, you can actually see the monitor start writing out "TARGET LOCKED" before cutting to the next scene.

They really must have had a whole team of people working on these UI elements and they REALLY gave it their all!

Anyway, that's all!! Sorry that this one kinda took a detour down the Elan train for a bit there! I always get carried away with these things...

Uhh as a reward.... hmm...

One time I saw Shaddiq referred to as "Malibu Sephiroth" and I've never been able to forget it. It's so real. God Damnit.

Click here to go to Episode 6! >>

Click here to go to the Masterpost!

#g witch #gundam the witch from mercury #elan ceres

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minirigby · 7 months

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"The Final Voyage"

Tales from Turaga Ventax, Volume 2, “The Final Voyage”

Following the events of our last entry, after my assistant Kopeke returned home safely with the artifact I had sent him to retrieve, we quickly set to work examining the tablet, and recording as much of its contents as we could. After many weeks of transcribing and deciphering the notes and shorthand covering the stone tablet, I am pleased to write that finally, after being lost for more than a thousand years, the last written record of Kodan, Chronicler of Metru Nui, has been recovered.

It won't surprise most who were familiar with the Chronicler to know that the final topic of Kodan's research was in fact one of the Toa Mangai themselves, but I do at least hope that this record can provide some much needed closure for those of us who knew those featured in the account, and have spent the last millennium waiting for the answers enclosed within.

As you can imagine, the record begins in Metru Nui itself, after three of the Toa Mangai had been summoned for a seemingly mundane mission by the city's Turaga…

Kodan entered the room quietly, stone tablet in hand, so as not to disturb the conversation already in progress. Turaga Dume, leader of Metru Nui, sat behind his desk addressing the three Toa in front of him with the details of their latest mission.

"So why exactly are we closing the Sea Gates?" Valtruu, Toa of Ice, spoke up.

"I fear the Dark Hunters are growing bolder by the day" Dume said, getting up from his seat and walking out in front of his desk. "If something isn't done to fortify Metru Nui soon, they will doubtless take advantage and try to make the first move. We wouldn't want another war in our great city, now would we?" the Turaga said.

"I s'pose that makes sense, but why not just have the Vahki do it?" Valtruu countered.

Kanae, Toa of Plantlife, let out a scoff. "Those machines can't find their way to a charging port without methodical instruction" he said, before Dume raised his hand to interrupt the Toa.

"They already tried" he said, tossing a scrap of Vahki armor onto his desk for the room to see, "it seems they met some resistance".

Motara, the usually quiet and reserved Toa of Stone, spoke up for the first time since Kodan had entered the room. "Any chance you could tell us what to look out for, then?" he asked, unsatisfied with the Turaga's brevity.

"Feral Rahi, in all likelihood. Surely nothing for Toa to worry about" the Turaga said, brushing aside the Toa of Stone's concern before continuing. "You have your orders, now follow them. I have no time for further questions," Dume said dismissively, showing the three Toa to the door. "The safety of Metru Nui is my utmost priority, as it should be yours. If you have concerns, I shall hear them out after you've returned, when I have more time. For now, my attention is demanded elsewhere." he continued.

Valtruu shrugged, and followed his brothers out of the Turaga's office, with Kodan making sure to keep up behind them.

As the group exited the Coliseum, Kanae waved to the others and began heading off in the opposite direction. "I'm late for a thing in Ga-Metru, you guys can handle this one right?" he said in his usual nonchalant way, now that they were no longer in the presence of the Turaga.

"Yeah, shouldn't be a big deal" Valtruu replied, turning to speak to the Po-Matoran following close behind them. "You sure you've got time to join us, little dude?" he asked.

"A long, boring boat ride alone with the two of you? I wouldn't miss it for the universe," Kodan responded, smiling beneath his mask, as the trio set out to borrow a skiff for their mission…

The vessel skipped against the waves as it began making its way further from shore, while Kodan sat back to observe the two Toa making preparations for the mission ahead. Valtruu was standing towards the back of their skiff, steering the motor with his attention focused on the dome wall far off in the distance, while toward the front of the skiff sat Motara, checking over the stone-carving claws attached at his forearms.

Despite the two having known each other for many years at this point, Motara was the Mangai least familiar to Kodan, and to many others in the city as well. There were rumors of course, everyone in the city had their own theory about the background of this strangely colored Toa clad in striking silver armor, but rumors were all they were. What really sparked their interest wasn't just how foreign the yellow and black colored Toa looked, but the mask he wore.

Motara adorned himself with a sharp silver Great Mask of Power Scream, a mask whose power was normally considered immoral by the standards of Matoran society. In addition to the mask's long history of association with the brutal and fearsome Brotherhood of Makuta, the unholy shrieks it made when used were enough to unsettle even the sturdiest of individuals, leading to its almost unanimous rejection by Matoran society.

Despite this though, Kodan had never seen the Toa be anything less than upstanding in all his years of service to the city, which just made his choice in mask all the more perplexing. And now thanks to this mission, Kodan had the perfect opportunity to ask the Po-Toa all about it, without interruption…

After finally striking up a conversation with the Toa of Stone, Kodan soon found himself eagerly writing down everything he was hearing.

"It goes back many years ago, during the great war between the Brotherhood of Makuta and the League of Six Kingdoms" Motara began. "I lived in a small village back then, and had only just become a Toa in the months before the war started. We were able to keep our heads down and stay out of it at first, but once the League caught wind of our settlement they sent someone over to plant a flag down, and started telling us we belonged to them."

Motara reached his hand up to soothe an old scar on his shoulder, as if by reflex, before continuing. "I tried to fight them off, but they were too strong for just one Toa to handle. We'd almost given up hope of getting our freedom back, until one night, when a great warrior clad in silver showed up and ran the League's governor out of town with a legion of Rahkshi." He looked out over the side of the skiff, breaking eye contact.

"I know most don't think too highly of Rahkshi, and in truth I didn't either, but after that night we saw them as our saviors. Mostly though, we were grateful to their master, the silver warrior." Motara turned back toward Kodan, "I'm sure you can guess by the company he kept, but he was a Makuta, who went by the name Aruke." Motara touched his kanohi lightly before continuing.

"Unlike most of the Brotherhood who were occupied with grand military campaigns, or pursuits of glory on the front lines, Aruke and his troops made a point of seeking out settlements like ours, who were actually suffering under League occupation, and freeing as many of them as he could. I was so moved by the man's skill, grace, and honor that I pledged myself to his service right then and there."

"Lemme guess, he gave you that shiny armor to match his?" Valtruu chimed in from the back of the skiff.

"Eventually, yeah" Motara answered. "Makuta Aruke and I continued freeing League occupied settlements for the remainder of the war, and when it was all over and 'heroes' on the front got their accolades and fancy medals, nobody paid much attention to all the work we had done. Still though, Aruke was grateful for my help. He had this armor made special, so the two of us would match. Said it was a promise, not a reward. A promise that we would always be there to stand up for the forgotten and the oppressed, and a promise to each other, that we would never forget everything we had been through", Motara finished.

"So where is he now?" Kodan asked, "Why didn't you stay with your Makuta if you two were clearly so close?"

"I did, to an extent", Motara said, "we stayed in periodic contact for quite a while afterward."

The Po-Toa got up to stretch after sitting in the skiff for so long. "Then, after the Brotherhood took up the responsibilities left behind by the Barraki and were eventually assigned their own dominions, my home village fell within Aruke's new territory, and I was offered the position of his right-hand aide, which I humbly accepted." Motara said, sitting back down as the skiff passed over rougher waters.

"Things went well, until Aruke was summoned to a Convocation- a meeting of the Makuta. He was only gone for a few days, but when he returned, there was something… different about him." Motara reached up to touch his Kanohi before continuing.

"He was acting paranoid, doubling the guard at his fortress, checking rooms before entering… When I finally asked him what had happened at the meeting, he told me only two things: no one was to be trusted, and that things were changing in the universe."

"Well, that's not ominous at all!" Valtruu shouted over the wind and waves, still listening in from the back of the skiff.

Motara's expression soured, but he continued. "It was only a few days later, before I had gotten the opportunity to pry further, that Aruke vanished. For three days the fortress grounds were alive with search parties, all silent, hoping we might hear if he called out to us. Eventually though I was the one to find his body, sitting alone in his study- where it hadn't been just the night before."

Kodan spent a short while trying to find words. "I'm sorry," the Chronicler finally said. "Did you ever find out?" he continued, failing to fight back his curiosity, "What happened to him, I mean."

"No," Motara said, in a voice that was somehow both small yet louder than the crashing waves. "I figured his paranoia was right… The universe had changed, and that change, whatever it was, swallowed him up. Afterwards, everything Aruke had was transferred to another Makuta, as though he never even existed." Motara sighed. "Everything except for me…" he said, gingerly peeling the gleaming silver Kanohi from his face, taking a long look at it for himself, "And his mask…"

Motara's gaze was transfixed on the mask for some time. Kodan noted that, despite the maskless state of the Toa of Stone, there was a steely resolve in his eyes that failed to betray any weakness.

"I've been wearing it for myself ever since. Not just to honor what he stood for, but to remind myself of his last words to me" the Po-Toa said, before placing the mask back over his face.

"I spent the next few years moving around a lot, helping out wherever I could." Motara turned to the chronicler with a solemn look, before continuing. "Trying never to stay in the same place for too long, for fear that whoever killed Aruke would catch up with me too. That is, until I heard the Turaga's request for help, and came to this city." Motara said, looking back at the now tiny Metru Nui skyline behind them.

"For the first time in as long as I can remember, living in this place, being a part of this team… It's made me feel like I have a home again." He finished…

After Kodan had recorded Motara's story on his stone tablet, the trio sat in silence, reflecting on the Po-Toa's words, until they came in eye shot of the Sea Gate. As their skiff was slowing down on approach to the towering doorway, Motara noticed another vessel parked along the edge of the dome wall, and pointed it out to his comrades. Toa Valtruu, with his Great mask of Water Breathing, decided to dive beneath the sea of protodermis to get a closer look at the strange ship.

After a few minutes with no sign of the Ko-Toa, Motara was about to stand up and take a better look for himself. Before he could leap over the side of the skiff however, a towering monster of black and purple armor, with a grotesque face and four extra arms sticking up from behind its shoulders, stood up out of the water, igniting energy that crackled between its fingertips…

The record cuts off after that, though I think it safe to assume what happened next. As someone who lived in the city for many years, I've spent more time than I care to recall thinking on what I could have done differently to prevent the tragedies that occured, both to Metru Nui itself, and its honorable protectors. I often wonder, if I had stayed in the city rather than being convinced to set out on my travels by the false Turaga, if perhaps his deception could have been uncovered before it was too late.

Unfortunately though, I doubt we will ever know the answer to that question. And so we are left to take solace in the knowledge that, although it was a hard fought battle, good did eventually prevail in the end, and no others will ever again have to meet their fate at the hands of Makuta Teridax, or his minions, as these brave heroes did…

#bionicle #lego #toa #mangai #kodan #talesfromturagaventax #Tales from Turaga Ventax #TfTV #metru nui #makuta

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