#T: Badass Israel “Izzy” Hands

[izzyeffinhands]

The only Facebook group I feel safe in as an Izzy Hands stan is Our Flag Means Daddy.

Even though I am apart of the two main groups as well, i.e. Our Flag Means Deathposting, Our Flag Means Fans, I do NOT feel SAFE. I see the wildest and hottest fucking takes in these groups and they piss me off. Are you even watching the same show? I’m also sick and tired of people calling Izzy a villain when he clearly is not. Also there are many that don’t recognize he’s gay, even after season 2. If you voice you’re upset and betrayed? You get attacked. I was again last night.

I guess I’m a proud Izzy “apologist”, but it fucking baffles me how fans just give Ed a pass on all the brutal things he did. Oh but the love story—- NO. Recognize you’re an Ed apologist as well. I like both Ed and Izzy, but I recognize the horrifying things Ed did.

The day of the finale, I posted my thoughts on various social media. I got attacked. I got messages even on tumblr from anon cowards who I imagine followed through Twatter. I was called the t slur. That I was stupid, fat, all sorts of things.

It’s because I said I’ll never trust David Jenkins again. Now, do I have my own thoughts as to whether parts of the finale are a dream state/gravy basket that Stede himself is in? Absolutely. But let’s dive into why I was especially hurt.

First off. I am disabled. For those who know me, I’ve also had two leg surgeries and my injury has ruined my life. So seeing Izzy with a false leg, as a disabled character, still being badass? It felt good. It boosted my confidence for me to keep going. I had so much metal in my leg it caused pain that left me bedridden and using a wheelchair and cane. Many a time I wish they’d chopped my leg off.

I see a lot of myself in Izzy. I swear, he has the traits of an Aries with his anger and intense emotions. This man feels deeply for those who cares for, even though at first this seemed to just be Edward. Despite the hardened shell, he’s a romantic at heart. I’m very much the same.

That hardened shell is also a form of masking to me. In my opinion, and in my own headcanon for this roleplaying blog, Israel is neurodivergent and suffered sexual assault on ships when he was young. It’s part of the reason he has bowel issues. He had to force himself to put on that rough motherfucker mask in order to protect himself. I was bullied mercilessly in school. When I started middle school, I decided to align myself with the “bad kids” as a form of protection. Guess what? Part of myself was masking I was a bad ass, part of myself became the badass I was masking to be after years of torture.

Also. I am transmasculine. I’m pre-HRT. But to me, Izzy is very transmasc coded. This was even confirmed by Con himself when a transmasc fan at Supercon brought the conversation up. I’d just like to say again how much I adore him for supporting the trans community, particularly transmascs who often are glanced over.

Then David Jenkins, a straight man, that swore he wouldn’t fall into the kill your gays trope did exactly that. So let’s exclude here the thought that this is possibly a dream state, or even that he might be resurrected by Buttons as a zombie or ghost which I fucking hope not. We’re talking about my initial feelings. Now it felt like they were setting him up to be killed but I said oh no Jenkins wouldn’t do that to us. He promised he wouldn’t.

Guess what?! He fucking did. Not only that, he murdered off the disabled, gay, transmasc coded character after giving him the most beautiful character arc of any character on the show. You can have a gay pirate rom com, you can understand some characters can get hurt, but killing someone as a means to advance plot? Fuck you. Also, the fact that Izzy apologized to his ABUSER?! As if the victim blaming and shaming wasn’t enough for Izzy Hands, which I see plenty of still, that’s fucked up on so many levels.

So to me I watched a version of myself be murdered. It hit me in the hardest way imaginable. I cried for days. I’ve never been so attached to a character in my 38 years of existence. I’m sick and tired of people saying they like his redemption arc. Izzy never needed redemption. He just needed one, single, person to tell him that he was loved and cared about.

So voicing that I felt betrayed and that I no longer trust Jenkins got me nothing but vitriol. Then toward the end of the day, he made a tweet about how there’s no version of the show without Izzy and had the comments turned off. He knows what he did. And then in the FB groups, if you dared say you were upset that day, requoted Jenkins, you’re a horrible person? Right. I didn’t start attacking the writers. I just said I’m betrayed and I can’t trust what I thought was my comfort show. Because of that, I got hate.

As much as I’d like to believe Izzy will return, the interviews David has done post season 2 talking about his character give me little hope. It’s like he just stabbed every fan in the back. Id like to think the rushed finale is really a dream sequence or gravy basket deal. Id like to think that Izzy will come back thanks to Buttons. But now I just don’t trust David Jenkins.

And if you dare voice this opinion anywhere but Our Flag Means Daddy and Twatter, you get attacked. So here goes. Thanks for my TED talk.

[dragonmuse]

What do you think would happen if young Izzy and Faith met Alma's crowd? Obviously this would have to be pretty AU, timelines all over the place, I just really wanna see Faith and Alma hanging out and what Izzy would make of the everything. Bonus points for teenaged Izzy meeting Stede and hating him in a "your dad is trying way too hard to be down with the kids, it's embarassing" way.

(ok so sorry anon,but  I thought about this a lot and the timeline thing kept screwing me up and then I just had another thought that I decided to pursue. Instead of Alma, what if Stede and Mary collided with Izzy and Faith? They were all about the same age after all and maybe...) 

“Is this Roosevelt High?”  

The girl was polished, dark hair blown out and swept away from her forehead. Dark blazer over a crisp white t-shirt tucked into jeans that were also creased. She looked like a magazine cover. Faith crossed her hands over her chest, drawing her flannel closer around her. 

“Yeah. You looking for someone?” 

“We’re supposed to have a debate thing here?” She shifted uneasily under Faith’s gaze. “In the auditorium. Right, Stede?” 

Faith hadn’t even noticed the guy, who couldn’t have looked more out of place if he’d tried Khakis, polo shirt, sweater tied diagonal over his chest and a wave to his blond hair that might’ve been ironed too. He was in the girl’s shadow, lingering behind her like he might disappear. 

“Right,” he offered quietly.  

“I’ll show you,” Faith decided. She had to go back into the building anyway and get the textbook she’d forgotten. And eventually to collect Izzy, who had landed himself in detention for the umpteenth time. “Come on.” 

“I’m Mary,” the girl said as she kept pace with her. “That’s Stede.” 

“Faith.” 

“Thank you, Faith,” Mary said politely. “We tried to ask a few people, but no one would talk to us.” 

“Yeah, cause it looks like you got spit out of Preps R Us. The preps don’t hang out on the steps, especially not once school lets out and they definitely don’t waste time talking to the wastoids that do.” 

“Oh,” Mary laughed. “Did you hear that Stede? We look preppy.” 

“Of course we do,” Stede sighed. “Can’t look preppy enough for our school, too preppy for this one.” 

“You don’t look preppy enough?” Faith asked incredulously. 

“We go to Hopkins,” Mary said, like that was an explanation. 

“Where’s that?” 

“It’s a private school,” Stede got ahead and opened the door for her. That was nice. Weird, but nice. “Notoriously snobby. Mary and I are generally considered...undesirables.” 

“Losers,” Mary corrected. 

“Yeah?” Faith laughed. “Me too. But I’ve never ironed my jeans.” 

“My mother does it,” Mary pulled a face. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” 

“I like it,” Stede said with a loyalty that Faith could respect. “You look very smart. What do they know?” 

“Sorry,” Faith said into the ensuing quiet. “You do look really nice. I love your blazer.” 

“I love your dress,” Mary smiled and it wasn’t mean or mocking at all. “And your boots.” 

“Thanks, my boyfriend got me the boots.” They were Docs and Izzy had definitely stolen them, but it totally counted and they were badass. 

“Faith!” A call came down the hall. 

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned and turned on her heel. “I thought you were locked up for another hour.” 

“Slipped the noose.” Izzy strode toward them and Stede took an instinctive step back. Annoying, but hard to blame him. Izzy just moved with menace, he didn’t really have another speed. “Who the fuck are they?” 

“This is Mary and Stede. Just showing them the way to the auditorium.” She leaned in for a kiss and he gave it with a grin. 

“Saint Faith, leading the lost?” he teased. 

“Fuck off,” she pushed at him with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll just take a minute. Guys, this is Israel.” 

“Nice to meet you, Israel,” Mary said quietly. 

“Call me Izzy.” Izzy gave her a look. “What’s with the paint?” 

Faith hadn’t noticed, but Mary did have flecks of paint on her hands and a few on her shirt now that Faith was looking for it. 

“She’s an artist,” Stede said staunchly as if he was daring Izzy to make something of it. Faith winced because Izzy would love to make something of it. 

“Yeah? What kind of art?” Izzy said instead of jumping the guy so that was good. 

“Oh, I paint abstracts and landscapes,” Mary’s enthusiasm was clear. “Sometimes surrealism, whatever I can try.” 

“She’s good,” Stede put in.  

“Huh,” Izzy glanced at Faith. “That’s-” 

“He draws sometimes,” Faith tattled on him without hesitation as she headed down the hall. “He’s good too, but he won’t take an art class cause he’s stubborn.” 

“Faith,” Izzy growled and caught her around the waist. “Quit.” 

“No. You should show people more. It’s good. You do those cool cartoons all the time.” 

“I love cartooning,” Mary said enthusiastically.  “It’s hard to get the forms right.” 

“It’s just doodles.” He shrugged.  

“That’s how it starts.” Stede snorted. “She doodled in the margins so much that they bounced her out of Biology and put her in an art class.” 

“I left of my own volition, Bonnet.” 

“Volition,” Izzy repeated with a hint of a sneer and Faith elbowed him in the ribs. 

“I hated bio,” Faith offered. 

“The worst,” Mary agreed. “Chem is better.” 

“Yeah, it’s mostly math.” 

“You like math too?” Steded asked faintly. “Help. I’m surrounded.” 

“Not into numbers?” Izzy snorted. 

“No. We don’t get along,” Stede said breezily. “Lucky for me Mary is a good tutor.” 

“We do an exchange. He gets math help, I get someone else to read the horrible books they assign us and write my essays.” 

“Huh, you wanna write my English essays?” Izzy asked her. 

“Your funeral,” Faith laughed. “Not like I’m any better than you.” 

“You use nicer words.”

“Sweet, but still no.”

“You two are cute,” Mary laughed.  

“Are not,” they said at the same time. 

“How long have you been dating?” Stede asked. 

“A year,”  Faith frowned. “More than a year.” 

“Year and a half in three weeks,” Izzy offered. 

“Huh, yeah that sounds right.” 

“Wow,” Mary whistled. “That’s a long time. We’ve been going out for like three months.” 

“Oh,” Faith blinked. “You’re dating?” 

“Yes?” Mary frowned. “Do we not look like we are?” 

Considering they had been talking about ten feet away from each other and seemed about as warm as an ice cube. No. No, they did not. 

“What do I know, we just met,” Faith smiled. “Here’s the auditorium.” 

Stede went and tugged at the door. Locked. 

“I swear it said today,” he frowned. “Didn’t it?” 

“That’s what I thought.” Mary unzipped her little purse, rustling through it. “Mr. Vree was pretty clear about it.” 

“What’re they here for again?” Izzy asked. 

“Debate club thing.” 

Izzy let go of her waist to tug a flyer off the wall, “Hey, geniuses. This your debate thing?” 

Stede took the flyer, read it over and sighed. “Darn.” 

“Darn,” Izzy repeated flatly. “What are you, six?” 

“Mary, look at this,” Stede handed her the flyer, ignoring Izzy entirely. Bold move. 

“Oh no,” she groaned. “Next Thursday? How did we miss that?” 

“We can get the subway back. What a nuisance.” 

“Ugh, I’m starving too. I was really counting on some pizza.” Mary stuck the flyer back up. 

“Come out with us,” Faith offered. Izzy made a soft choking noise. “We were just going to get something to eat. Right, Israel?” 

“Yeah,” he said, resigned. “Sure.” 

Which was how they wound up in their usual booth, but instead of facing each other, Faith and Izzy pressed up together on one side and watched in mutual amusement as Stede and Mary attempted to share the small space on the other side without actually touching each other. 

It might’ve been awkward, except Stede had apparently never learned about awkwardness and just asked Izzy like it was totally normal thing to ask him, 

“So how did you decide on Faith?” 

Faith very diligently did not look at him, not wanting to influence how Izzy answered. 

“She decided on me,” Izzy replied, arm going around the back of the booth, effectively around her shoulders. “And I’m smart enough to know a good thing when it’s on offer.” 

“That’s...romantic,” Stede decided. “Isn’t it Mary?” 

“Certainly more romantic than shaking on it.” 

“Listen,” Stede paled. “I just thought it made sense at the moment.” 

“You shook hands on dating?” Faith blinked. 

“We kissed later,” Mary rushed to say. Then flushed a deep pink. "We were in public."

“Of course, that makes total sense.” Faith assured her like she and Izzy didn't routinely make out pressed against the lockers.

“In any case,” Stede cleared his throat. “It’s all worked out now. Just two normal couples in a normal place.”

“Where did you people come from?” Izzy stared at them.

“Prep school,” Mary said wryly. “Not the moon, no matter what Stede sounds like, I promise.” 

“What are we supposed to be talking about then?” Stede asked like he was actually baffled. 

“Dunno,” Faith said, feeling a bit bad for him. “Iz’s friends talk shit about each other and run their mouths. My friends talk about their grades or boys.” 

“It’s not all shit,” Izzy said half-heartedly. “Sometimes it’s baseball.” 

“Do you like baseball?” Stede asked.

“Fuck no. Boring ass game.” 

“You go to movies a lot?” Faith asked Mary. 

“Sometimes. I liked Clueless a lot.” 

“It was kind of great,” Faith grinned at her and they were off the races. 

It turned out that Stede did not get out of the house much, but had a lot of opinions about B-movies that Izzy viciously disagreed with. They got a little loud, but they both seemed to be having a good time about it, so Faith left them to it. It was kind of nice to see Izzy talk to someone that wasn’t her or one of his gang.

Mary was fascinating. She was definitely rich though she wasn’t talking about it, and polished in a way that Faith couldn’t hope for. But she was also funny and sweet. She liked the same kinds of things Faith did, except for music maybe. By the time they’d destroyed a few pizza slices, they were leaning their heads together so Faith could see Mary’s sketches as Izzy tried to pretend he wasn’t equally interested.  

“Hey, Mary,” Stede said quietly. “Your curfew.” 

“Oh damn,” she looked up at the clock. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

“We can make it if we leave now,” he said sincerely and in the first tender move Faith had seen from him, he reached out and gently touched her wrist. “Promise.” 

“Thanks,” she exhaled shakily. 

“Here,” Faith said impulsively, taking up Mary’s pencil and writing quickly. “That’s my number. Don’t call after eight, my dad is a total fucking asshole about it, but we should hang again.” 

“We should,” Mary smiled shyly at her. “Thanks. It was really cool to meet you.” 

“You too.” 

Then they were on their feet. Whatever distance was between Mary and Stede before disappeared now that they had a common goal. They moved as one, conferring over subway lines and walking briskly out the door. 

“They were cool,” Faith said mildly. 

“He’s a total nerd,” Izzy snorted, but he was following them with his eyes too. “Think they know how to get home?” 

“They seem okay,” she frowned. “Think they know how to avoid getting jumped?” 

“Absoutly the fuck not.” He glanced at her. 

“We can just stay behind them,” she decided, sliding out of the booth. “Just to make sure. No need to get weird about it.” 

Stede and Mary did make it onto the right subway car without clocking their tail. And a few days later, Mary did call. 

There was no reason to be friends with them. It was far away and hard to plan where to meet and sometimes the culture clash was so hard that Faith felt it in the roots of her teeth. The four of them were just very stubborn, she thought, unwilling to let go of a spark of connection in  a sea of loneliness.

Izzy never complained about heading out to the center of a part of the city that seemed to physically reject them. Just put on his cleanest t-shirts and read whatever book Stede had thrust on him so he could argue bitterly with him about it. 

And Faith and Mary confided so much in each other that it felt religious. Confession and care wrapped into one. 

Imagine a museum, full of art. A tough kid with a shock of black hair lingering in front of a painting while a girl in a blazer tells him about the artist. On the bench in the middle of the room, a red headed girl wrapped in flannel has a textbook open as she explains equations to a boy wearing loafers and a bemused expression.  

Imagine that after the museum, the tough kid teaches the kid in loafers how to climb a fence and pick a lock. They all spend a long night on a playground, telling secrets on the swings. It’s a cold night, but none of them feel it, warmed by the quickfire fellowship of a friendship that never was.