IZZY HANDS For Stede !

🪐 — IZZY HANDS​   for  stede !

The comment surprises Israel to say the least. Part of him wanted to tell Bonnet to fuck off back to his fancy quarters and read a book or knit or something. The other part knew that he’d feel a lot more comfortable if this man could defend himself and better yet, fight like a proper pirate. He knew that Ed had started to train him a bit but the captain was taking a bit of a break for some reason it seemed. Being stabbed would do that. It seemed that Bonnet wanted to keep his training up. 

Who knew, maybe Izzy could make it an ‘accident’ that Stede got run through during training? No. No. Edward had said no to killing him but the thought still crossed his mind. Strengthen one of the captains and the entire crew would be stronger. That was the logic he was going to follow here.

“Fine – take that ridiculous coat off unless you want it sliced up, Bonnet,” Hands said, fluidly shifting his weight to change directions on the deck. He went and collected up two dueling blades. He knew he’d have to take it easier here but part of him wanted to just go hard out, really put the fear of god into the man. That’s how he had learned after all. 

Waiting until Stede had done as he asked, Izzy then walked closer to toss the sword to the deck in front of the man. “We start now.” 

The first mate waited until the man had bent down to retrieve the blade before he took a smooth step forward and swiped downwards with his own sword. It came incredibly close to the other man’s neck, even slicing off the tip of his shirt collar a bit.

“Lesson number one. Don’t take your fucking eyes off your enemy,” he explained calmly, looking down at the captain.

       IT WAS WISE FOR A CAPTAIN  to learn from the best, was it not ?  &  ed had told him that it was izzy that had been his sparring partner for years, long before the two had come to the revenge.  &  so with edward taking a temporary break from their lessons for his health, it seemed a wise decision for stede to continue on his own with the first mate as a stand-in.  &  it would be nice to see the look on ed’s face if he surprised him with some new moves when he was back in fighting order. if, of course, steve could get through an encounter with izzy hands without being run through himself. in spite of his most recent lesson with edward  — the one that had left ed out of commission for a few days in the first place — stede didn’t think he was really prepared to experience that again firsthand.                                                                     though izzy’s tone leaves something to be desired when addressing a captain, stede removes his silk coat at the other man’s order  &  laid with delicate care over the railing,  &  he bends to retrieve the weapon from the deck. but no sooner do his fingers brush the handle than the other man has stepped forward  &  dropped his sword, the blade pulling up only a hair’s breadth away from his throat.                izzy had been edward’s partner in swordplay as in all else,  &  so stede expected him to fight similarly to edward. but he could see now that was a foolish assumption. izzy was nothing like the other captain, his form perfect  &  his movements tightly controlled in a way that ed’s seldom were. this will not be the practices laden with laughter  &  banter under the moonlight that he has come to enjoy  —  no, sparring with izzy was certain to be something entirely different.                                              ❝ well, it’s not very good manners of you not to let me at least take up my blade first, ❞​ stede complains, standing straight once again as he settles the sword in his grip.  &  though he’s beginning to feel as though he’s out of his depth with this match, he takes the advice to heart, his eyes remaining locked on izzy’s as he straightens. &  he doesn’t hesitate, raising his own sword — he hopes without warning — to parry the other’s away from his neck before striking out in the general direction of izzy’s shoulder.​

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH ☠ ↪ Izzy Hands vs. everyone

🪐 — EDWARD TEACH​.

the huff of breath he lets out is rough and unsteady.   it was meant to be a laugh,  but it got swallowed somewhere down the road,  replaced by a wave of relief so strong edward fears he might be sick from it,  nausea rolling in the pit of his stomach like it’s trying to tear it to shreds.  his own injuries never leave him so stretched thin,  he never lets himself wonder what could happen if his so called luck runs out,  but in the past few minutes his thoughts have been drowned by an endless stream of what ifs.  one more gut wrenching than the last,  of course.  but he is not allowed to spiral further,  thankfully,  anchored to the present as he is by that hand wrapped around his arm  —  yes,  he’s alright.  they both are.  edward holds on that certainty,  closing his eyes for a second or two.  when he tries again his breath comes out much less tortured and if he drops his head to rest it against the other man’s forehead..  well,  it’s been one hell of a day,  alright?  he lets go of him soon enough,  though,  mind finally brought back to the matter at hand:  a bleeding wound and a first aid kit that hasn’t been opened yet. 

❛  you’re not going to die on my account,  you hear me?  won’t let you.  i’ll piss you off back to life or somethin’.  ❜   he goes through the motions in silence,  then.  the steps familiar as well as the sight and smell of blood.  there’s no salvaging the already half perished couch,  but at least the wound is now clean and tightly wrapped up in gauze and bandages,  so edward rises to his feet only to drop on the couch next to izzy,  on his good side.  he winces a bit,  his shoulder dimly protesting against the rough movement,  but that’s not what makes heat creep into his voice.   ❛  where’s jack?  he was supposed to be here.  ❜   a thought,  lightning quick,  lances through his brain and he slants a furrowed glance izzy’s way.   ❛  d'you think he could’ve had something to do with this?  he’s been so fucking grouchy lately.  ❜   and as much as a part of him wants to say nahh,  because they’re friends,  part of him knows exactly why he has never been stupid enough to fully trust jack.  not like he trusts izzy.  not by a long shot. 

        A MERE MOMENT IN HEAVEN will always be worth every long day that izzy spends clawing through hell to get there.  &  as edward touches his forehead to his own, eyes pressed together as his breath steadies, izzy goes lightheaded at his sudden proximity to the divine. where before, everything had been sharp  &  clear  &  crystalline, now his vision goes fuzzy at the edges, his own breath coming in deep desperate gasps. the injury at his arm is entirely forgotten, all the pain overtaken by the heat that ripples out from every tiny point of contact where his skin touches edward’s. izzy can feel his breath on his face, &  his eyes are blown wide as his gaze traces the shape of his lips.  &  then it’s over, far too soon. his breath stutters unevenly when edward pulls away to tend his open wound. ❝ oh shut up, i’m not going to fuckin’ die, ❞ he attempts to cover his unsteadiness with a scoff, though he winces when the gauze tightens over the open wound. yet the pain clears his head, pulls the world back into focus despite edward’s fingers pressing the bandage down until it sticks.                                                 &  then everything is normal again, just as it was before. his arm still hurts, but it’s an absent ache. the kind he can easily ignore. edward sprawls down on the stained couch beside him.  &  at his words, izzy thinks for the first time not about the knife but about who had been wielding it  —  &  who had sent them. clearly, izzy had not been their intended target. the thought makes his eyes tighten at the corners, his gaze sweeping the small room to be certain that they’re alone, that no further threats linger waiting in the shadows to take edward by surprise. ❝ i don’t know, ❞  he admits, calling to mind the face of the man who had lunged at him. it wasn’t familiar,  &  izzy had no way of knowing if he was somehow significant, or just some hired knife off the street. ❝ i don’t think he would do that  — not to you, at least. ❞  how anyone could betray a man like edward was entirely beyond izzy’s reasoning, but clearly someone had it in their mind to harm him. ❝ but you know him better than i do. ❞ frankly, the reasoning wasn’t all that important; if someone wanted to get to edward, they would have to get through izzy, first. ❝ you think we should pay him a visit ? go ask him about it in person ? ❞ 

― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

Clarice Lispector, from “The Egg And The Chicken”, Selected Cronicas (tr. by Giovanni Pontiero)

🪐 — 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. ❞