Send Me Hc + A Word And Ill Write A Headcanon About It Regarding My Character.

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character.

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OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH ☠ ↪ Izzy Hands vs. everyone

Our Flag Means Death - 1.01 Pilot  

🪐 — IZZY HANDS.

The spirals of his brain twist and turned, stomach churning from the mixed anxiety and anger he was feeling. The former was more prevalent internally despite anger being what usually shown in his actions, like he was wearing a mask. The problem with Stede fucking Bonnet was while he WAS an idiot he was not stupid. The distinction was important. Especially in this line of work. Well, Izzy was still likely to call him stupid at times but the man was not unintelligent by any means. Naive about how the real world worked? Sure. 

The words that fell from Bonnet’s lips were expertly spun from Izzy’s own comments and the logic Stede knew the man would follow along with. 

‘your captain gave you your orders :  you were told to stay on the ship  &  look after the crew, yes’

Hands stared up into the man’s eyes sharply at those words. The gears in his head turning as he tried to find fault in Bonnet’s logic but it only grew worse as the man continued.

‘to leave before he returns  &  dismisses you from your post would be to defy a direct command from your captain. so, is that what you intend to do ?’

Bonnet had him.

For as much as Izzy’s brain screamed at him to say ‘fuck off. I don’t fucking care’ he could not do it. He could not argue with the captain’s logic for at the end of the day loyalty to my captain was carved into his very soul. Even more so after he’d betrayed Ed. He could not do so again. He’d sooner let Blackbeard run him through, straight through the heart, than do that again. The missing toe on his left foot was a reminder of that. The scabbed over wound ached at the thought of it, or perhaps he’d leaned too much pressure on that side. 

Threaten me again and I’ll feed you the rest. 

Izzy’s eyes mirrored Stede’s own fear for a moment. Threatening couldn’t be worse than betrayal, than disobeying Blackbeard’s orders. No. Stede was right. He couldn’t abandon his post. The idea of disappointing his captain struck deeper than his fear of loss of life and limb however. Fucked up little man was he.

“Fuck me,” Hands muttered softly, much of the fire fading in his eyes as he looked down. “Fine,” he added quietly and turned to walk back to his bed, limping slightly as he utilized his cane until he could sit down on the bed and drop his sack and cane near his feet. Hands came up to the sides of his face, fingers steeping into his hair as he looked down at the ground. His right knee was bouncing anxiously. Failure. You fucking FUCKER. 

Deep breaths. Easier said than done, he was focusing too much on keeping a level expression around Bonnet. “And what, pray tell, is our next ‘venture’?”

     HE CAN SEE THE FURY  as it rages in izzy’s eyes, a storm just scarcely held back by the cover of darkened clouds. nevertheless, his words find their mark,  &  izzy’s hand  does not reach for his sword in spite of how part of him seems to want to. his assessment hadn’t been wrong then, it seemed. for what other motivation aside from love for edward could izzy have for obeying stede now ?  he did not delude himself  —  his technical victory in their duel had not been due to any actual skill on his part, but rather sheer dumb luck. should the two face off again, izzy would likely not leave him alive a second time.                          but stede has always been better with words than blades,  &  this altercation is not one that can be won with force, but rather requires carefully applied pressure in just the right places. this is a duel he can win. so he waits, for izzy to either make the next parry, or for him to yield to stede’s argument. &  if his guess is correct, then izzy will be trapped by the weight of his loyalty to his captain, bound just as fast stede had been to the mast with his blade.                                                    his patience is rewarded with victory when izzy curses, voice harsh  &  angry as ever, but more steady than before.  ❝ there’s a good man, ❞  he says, approval in his tone at the acquiescence. yet as the other man steps back to seat himself on his sleeping cot, stede notices the uneven gait with which he walks.  &  as he considers it, he realizes that he doesn’t recall izzy having that particular injury before now. it seems new, the way he maneuvers with it unpracticed. but stede also knows better than to ask about what appears to still be a sore topic, their ceasfire held only tenuously.                 ❝ we’ll be going after him. ❞  stede speaks with determination in his voice, his spine so straight it’s gone rigid.  ❝ i know that he told you that he wanted to be alone right now, but i doubt very much that he accounted my return into the equation. ❞  &  stede could not sit idle  &  do nothing while edward was out there somewhere, thinking that he’d abandoned him, likely being reckless with his life because he thought no one would care if he lost it. well stede cared.  &  the fact that izzy remained behind was proof enough that he was not the only one.  ❝ &  loathe as i am to admit it, you know him far better than i. you were at his side for years, were you not ?  so you know all his moods, you know all his tendencies. ❞                                                                                a pause is given,  &  stede softens his tone, hoping that he hasn’t miscalculated. perhaps izzy would rather run him through than help him get back to edward. but he’s come too far to turn back now. ❝ if i’m to find him, i’ll need your help to do it. ❞ 

Margaret Atwood, ‘Corpse song’