#izzy stans

[ldrmas]

One more thing

Can we talk about what's worse is that Izzy didn't die by his gun? He died because he walked a man who was armed and extremely dangerous into the den of wolves. And not one person spoke up to say it was a bad idea. In fact, he died because the characters were stupid for stupid sake, which is one of my biggest pet peeves in tv tropes.

Izzy was holding the man hostage with only a single dagger, nothing else.

And both men that he trained with, also pirates he mentored into becoming an formidable crew, you're telling me that not a single one of them spoke up to say "hey maybe let's make sure Prince Ricky is unarmed!"

You're telling after staying by Stedes side and training him, Bonnet didn't once think to search the prince to make sure he couldn't pose a threat to the crew.

You're telling me that after sailing with Blackbeard all these years, disarming hundred of crews, rampaging ship after ship, Edward wouldn't once think to say; "Hey strip that fucker bear we only got one shot at this, we gotta be smart now if we wanna stand a chance."

You're telling me Fang, Jim, even Black Pete wouldn't be the one to volunteer to lead Ricky across the battlefield so that Izzy wouldn't be front and center in danger.

This, this is what hurts so twating much! I know you fellow izzy stans understand.

[creaturetongue]

are you queer and sad? have i got a label for you

[ldrmas]

One more time

I don't really understand how the people that look at

* gif by @izzy-hands

And go, " Ah yes, mentor/student relationship".

I really don't understand the people that look at

And go "Ah, yes. Platonic friendship".

[kitkatkey]

Izzy singing a song from the 1940s in the 1700s is peak historical accuracy, no notes

[junewild]

every new make some noise episode gives me a new favorite make some noise clip of all time.

make some noise, season 2, “the wicked switch of the west.”

[sunnibits]

okay wait wait wait hold the fuck up. I may very well be reading into this too much but like. this picture is from the very end of ep8 right,, ARE THEY FUCKING WEARING IZZY’S GLOVE?????? or at least mimicking it???? um????

[ldrmas]

🖤🖤🖤

i love that standard fandom etiquette is like. it's weird and rude to send actors nsfw art you drew of their characters UNLESS that actor is con o'neill in which case he will add it to his personal Izzy Hands Porn Collection

[ldrmas]

Izzy Tattoo

haven't made Izzy fan videos yet but I did make something else I'm good at; tattoos to honor our beloved First Mate!

One without color

And one with color!

I used these pictures for Reference, they arn't mine and I'll try to add links to them as I go back and find them.

i know this top one is from https://x.com/tuherrus/status/1544684621979336704?s=20

The flowers were the ones Stede was picking at his boarding school. Pandorea Jasminoides. So it's to represent both captains and our first mate! Then of course the gold eye and the "for the new unicorn" is to represent the crew who is his family!

[horatiios]

Thinking about how carefully Ed’s body was laid out below deck, with a cloth over the face. Prepared for mourning.

And like after everything,,why would the crew do that? Why not just throw him over board and be done with it?

But then I remembered who did need to mourn, who would have taken the time to put a handkerchief over his face,,

[abitofboth]

[i-tripped-on-a-rock]

it came to me in a dream. (I've been binge watching gravity falls and my TDI obsession runs deep....)

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

"it's bury your gays" they're all gay one of them just died "well it's bury your gay elders" Fang is older than Izzy and he's still kicking, "it's bury your disabled gays" Lucius, Ed, and Spanish Jackie, still around. "What about the people who come out late in life???" Stede divorced his wife at the ripe old age of 48, he's living in a seaside cabin with his boyfriend. "It's saying that people who are repressed/struggle with internalized homophobia deserve to die" *Regina George* so you agree, he's homophobic, but also, once again, Stede's still breathing. "But-"

You know you can be upset about your favorite side character dying without making up reasons the show is secretly bad

[wizardjail]

In the spring, Chrysothemis begs Iphigenia to braid wildflowers into her hair. They gather a basket of anemones, white and gold and blood-red, from the meadow west of the palace. The greatest prize, though, is the blue bellflower that sprouts in clumps along the faces of Mycenae’s cliffs, like a boy’s first patchy beard. Iphigenia scales the wall of the citadel while Chrysothemis waits below, fretting over the height and the slick stones; but Iphigenia is sure-footed as a mountain goat, and knows that Artemis Acraea will not let her fall. She returns to her sister with a triumphant grin and a fistful of blue flowers.

They sit beside the window as Iphigenia works Chrysothemis’ hair. Her sister’s curls are chestnut brown, lighter than Iphigenia’s own, like those of their uncle Menelaus. She weaves in the flowers as she goes—garnets and sapphires to set in the crown of braids. Electra, four years old this past winter, hasn’t the patience for Iphigenia’s ministrations. She plucks the petals from her anemones, and soon she’s tugged her nurse away to the courtyard to watch the guards in their shining armor pass by.

“On the day I am married,” says Chrysothemis wistfully, “I’ll wear roses in my hair, and violets. Will you weave them in for me then?”

“Of course I will,” Iphigenia tells her. “Roses and violets, and lilies for Hera, and carnations like we wear to the Thesmophoria.”

Chrysothemis hums, leans against Iphigenia’s side. “You will be there, won't you? For my wedding day?” The question is tiny and plaintive. Chrysothemis is the gentlest of Agamemnon’s daughters, keen to be liked and afraid to be left behind.

“Of course,” Iphigenia says again, seriously, because her sisters are prone to fits of temper if they feel they’re being patronized.

“You won’t love Thrasymedes’ sisters better than me?”

“What?” asks Iphigenia.

“Thrasymedes,” Chrysothemis wails, looking up with wet eyes. “He’s to marry soon—Nestor sent a messenger. I heard Father speaking of it to Mother this morning. I don’t want him to take you away to Pylos, Iphigenia.”

They say Pylos is a place of sandy shore and western wind, a city perched upon the sea. Nestor of Gerenia rules there, surrounded by a sizable brood, among whom Thrasymedes is the eldest son. Are there forests in Pylos? Iphigenia wonders, gazing out at the groves of pine, cypress, and yew that spring from Mycenae’s rugged hills. Or is it all sea and sky? Would she spend all her days at her window, a caged gull watching over the harbor?

“Don’t cry,” Iphigenia says. “I won’t marry Thrasymedes.”

Chrysothemis sniffs, blinking away the threatening tears, grasping again for the veil of composure she’s lately learning to wear. “Maybe not Thrasymedes, but you must marry somebody. And then you’ll leave me, just as Mother did our aunt Helen.”

She speaks true, of course. Little Orestes has hardly begun walking, but someday he will sit on the throne of Mycenae; his sisters, in turn, will sail to allied lands and wed their kings. Iphigenia is just shy of fifteen. Fifteen, the age that Helen was when princes from every corner of Achaea came to fight for her hand. Old enough to be a bride, certainly.

She knows the old noblemen of the city mutter their disapproval when her father is out of earshot: of her flyaway hair and rumpled skirts, her tendency to steal away to the woods, the willfulness for which her Lacedaemonian mother must be blamed. (This last, most of all, leaves her burning with indignation.) King Agamemnon has indulged her far too long, they say, but he will see sense. If not queen of Pylos, she’ll be queen of Crete or Salamis or Thebes, the nuts and amaranth flowers she lays at the altar of Artemis replaced with honey cakes for cow-eyed Hera.

Will the queen of beasts still speak to her after she crosses the threshold of her husband’s house?

“I won’t,” she says to Chrysothemis. “My bridegroom will be a bear, you see.”

A little laugh slips from Chrysothemis’ throat—slightly wet still, but a laugh nonetheless. Iphigenia continues. “A great king of the wood and mountain, crowned with laurels, who wanders the forest carrying me on his back. We’ll feast on hare and pheasant and berries, and every summer, I’ll bring you baskets of fresh figs.”

She lets herself believe it for a moment, that she could be a woman with windswept hair and skirts hitched to her knees, darting among the trees like the nymphs loved by far-shooting Artemis; that like Persephone, she could return at the dawn of each spring to hold her mother in her arms; that her father, who looks so fondly on his wild-eyed firstborn, might let her remain a part of his house until the day she dies. It is a lovely dream.

“Not figs,” says Chrysothemis, finally. Her head drops against Iphigenia’s shoulder, and one of the flowers in her hair smears a saffron streak of pollen across Iphigenia’s cheek. “You must bring me bellflowers. No one gathers them as well as you.”

[ldrmas]

Nah, I'm pretty much both.

"I'm not surprised; I'm just disappointed"

- all of us @ the OFMD writers right now

[ribbonsinurhair]

did i rile up all your demons? did i give you any reason? or did i love you?? did i just love you? was it useful? was it worth it? do you think that i deserved it? CAUSE I DIDNT. I JUST LOVED YOU!!!

[happyfeetfuryroad]

Speaking of abuse and complicated feelings, there's actually one detail in that scene that hit a bit close to home for me

Edward saying "I should be apologizing" after Izzy finally, finally gives him that long overdue recognition that yes, he did bring out the worst in him, and yes, he did do that for selfish reasons and it did cause Ed harm and Izzy does regret that

There's something about Edward, who doesn't owe Izzy anything let alone an apology, crying and telling him that he's the only family he has and that he should be the one to apologize, because that's how it is with abuse victims sometimes. Sometimes your relationship to your abuser (especially if it's a family member who has been through traumatic experiences with you) is complicated and you end up unable to accept an apology from them without feeling the need to "balance it out" with an apology of your own to make it "fair" (because you've spent all your life being told that how you feel and what bothers you isn't important - but how you make your abuser feel is)

Idk it's a small detail and it bothered me but, like, in a way that felt sadly realistic