Delphi
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wax-and-wings.bsky.social
Delphi
@wax-and-wings.bsky.social
160 followers 180 following 1.5K posts
18+ and then some 🐝 they/them 🐝 adults only, please

Dreamwidth is my primary fannish home. Feel free to add me over there at:
https://delphi.dreamwidth.org/

My fic and other fanworks are on AO3 at:
https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi
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wax-and-wings.bsky.social
Written for the 1 Character challenge on Dreamwidth (1character.dreamwidth.org).

The Voyage of the Unicorn (Our Flag Means Death, Izzy Hands/Crew of the Revenge, rated M, 1896 words)
archiveofourown.org/works/74468681
Screenshot of AO3 metadata for The Voyage of the Unicorn by Delphi. Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Relationships: Crew of the Revenge/Israel Hands, Israel Hands/Lucius Spriggs, Frenchie/Israel Hands, Wee John Feeney/Israel Hands, Archie/Fang/Frenchie/Israel Hands/Jim Jimenez, Fang/Israel Hands/Lucius Spriggs, Israel Hands/Roach, Israel Hands/Jim Jimenez, Fang/Israel Hands, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands (past) Characters: Israel Hands Rated Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, tagged for the following: 1 Sentence Fiction, Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Israel Hands Lives, Future Fic, All Deck on Hands, Moving On, Love, Community Summary: Fifty one-sentence stories for fifty prompts, following Izzy's post-series life aboard the Revenge. 1. Swords The love of a crew can't change him into something he isn't, but their hands right his edges like a whetstone and their words leave behind the gleam of oil on steel. Language: English Words: 1,896 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1
November 20, 2025 at 12:24 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: 35. Coin You'd have to be an idiot to bury treasure in the ground, and you'd have to be a sentimental fool to start buying credit at every business in port that seems likely to weather a storm, in the hopes that something will be there for your people after you're gone.
November 19, 2025 at 4:43 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: 24. Staff He sniffs, shrugging as he looks down at the bloody ambitious carving Jim's fixed to the leather harness and does his best to suppress any eagerness in his voice as he says, "Yeah, all right--might as well take it for a spin."
November 12, 2025 at 4:51 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: Lucius wasn't unacquainted with the experience of being someone's dirty little secret. Ancient history, wasn't a great look for anyone involved, but at least back then he'd been a fun, sexy little secret. There were stolen kisses in empty horse stalls, romps in the bed while the missus was out, and terrifying but romantic escapes through second storey windows. Definitely no being forced to do sums while a grumpy lunatic silently worked on navigation charts five feet away and occasionally stared at your lips, as though muttering your way through long division was an unwanted "Hello, sailor!" and not an indictment of the lack of free grammar schooling in Nottinghamshire. The twelfth time it happened that evening, he was maths-addled enough to put down his quill and say: "Look, if you want me to do something with my mouth besides shut up, you're going to have to actually ask."
November 5, 2025 at 3:55 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: Something had always either gone delightfully right or tediously wrong when Lucius found himself wanting to stick around a man’s flat the morning after. Being a people person, scenario one ideally led to his host staying in bed with him for a little pillow talk and a second round of getting to know each other. Being a thief (allegedly) and an expensive date (aspirationally), scenario two involved his host stepping out to fetch breakfast so that Lucius had an opportunity to search through his belongings, investigate how bad his password practices were, and compensate himself appropriately for a disappointing evening. In this case, the sparsely furnished and unnervingly tidy flat belonged to Izzy Hands, which meant the situation eluded any easy labels. The sea would probably turn to blood and frogs would start raining from the sky if anyone ever called that man a delight. But you certainly couldn’t call him boring.
October 30, 2025 at 3:24 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
If you see this, quote with a robot who isn't from Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, or Transformers.
A screenshot of Levi from Scavengers Reign, a semi-humanoid but faceless and roughly fashioned grey metal robot with yellow accents.
October 30, 2025 at 1:47 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
Post something '90s
A Vanity Fair magazine spread featuring k.d. lang reclining in a barber's chair, dressed in a three-piece suit with shaving cream applied to her face, as Cindy Crawford straddles her lap in lingerie. The article title reads "k.d. lang Cuts It Close"
October 23, 2025 at 12:57 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "You gonna ask?" Jim said, jaw clenched and obviously spoiling for a fight. Izzy pretended to give the question some thought, just to fuck with them. Had to keep those edges sharp. "Nah," he eventually said, picking up another bit of wood and inspecting it. What was there to ask? They had walked away from a piece of land they could call their own. Decent land, too, at least as far as Izzy could tell. Not blighted at any rate. Water in the well and something green growing wild in the ditch. Obviously something fucked had happened here, and Izzy knew a lot more about fucked situations than he did about farming. Jim sagged, but it didn't look like there was any real relief in it.
October 22, 2025 at 3:02 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot from a word processing document: The second dog bounded into the front room with significantly more fuss. Jesus Christ, that thing looked like some enterprising purse dog had snuck a ladder up behind a pit bull. Bat-eared and barrel-chested, the little gremlin was hopping excitedly around its master’s feet right up until the moment it realized there was a stranger on the sofa. At that point, it froze, let out a shrill bark, then vibrated so hard in distress that it seemed to teleport itself three feet backwards. “It’s all right, bug,” Fang cooed and executed what seemed to be a practised bend-and-twist to scoop the creature up under one arm.
October 15, 2025 at 4:05 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: By the time Izzy hauls himself out of his sickbed for good, the crew has a duty roster, a plan to sail to Panama, and half an idea of how to make it happen. What they don't have is a captain. "Sure we do," Frenchie says when he raises the issue. "It's on the duty roster." "The fuck it is." "Yeah, see--" His attention is directed to a stick figure drawing of someone in a hat next to the letters CoTW in Spriggs' clear hand. "--Captain of the Watch. That's who does the captain-y bits when it's their turn." He opens his mouth to protest, but Frenchie cuts him off like he's the one being ridiculous here. "Look, man, we're running lean as it is. We can't spare someone just to be captain all day."
October 8, 2025 at 5:44 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: The corset was what had been distracting Izzy up until now. There was no getting around that, not when it shifted his posture and pressed into his sides every time he drew breath. In contrast, the drawers were drawers. Softer than he was used to, and longer, but nothing too novel. With his trousers off, however, he became keenly aware of the fact that women’s drawers had a split in them. That when he spread his legs, there was something half-hidden between them, something waiting to be breached. A hot flush spread through him at the thought, and his loins throbbed with almost painful urgency. The notion of turning over onto his stomach was forgotten, never mind how his bones might complain in the morning. This was how he wanted it, lying back in the darkness, arms and legs open, waiting for his young man to climb on top of him.
October 1, 2025 at 2:38 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: He grasped his left trouser leg, raising his prosthesis and letting it thunk back down on the floor. "Just the same, is it?" "Besides that," Fang said easily, not even having the good grace to be awkward about it. "What happened?" "Car accident," he lied. "I'm sorry." "Why?" he scoffed. "You weren't driving." His chest tightened worse than ever. He was probably allergic to dogs. Just hadn't been around them long enough to notice. This was a mistake.
September 24, 2025 at 6:41 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "Why not?" Izzy slowly finished his drink, gazing blankly at the message until the screen went blank. Fuck it. This nonsense had to end eventually. He tapped the thing awake again and then typed with numb fingers: "I'm old enough to be your father." He was in the process of turning the ringer off and trying to figure out how to block a number when a new message popped up. "Hot." There was a smiley face next to it with hearts for eyes.
September 18, 2025 at 2:16 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "Yeah," Izzy said gruffly, aware of his face going hot and his shoulders wanting to meet in the middle. "Only I'd have to, if you were actually my fucking–liege or whatever it is you made up." He'd be obliged. And a spoilt little princeling that age, being kept on a tight leash and kept from going out whoring, he might just decide to get what he could from his retainers. 'Make up my bed, polish my boots, and why don't you suck my cock while you're down there–there's a good man.' He let that thought settle, reaching down to adjust himself.
September 11, 2025 at 3:13 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
Yes, we got this delightful moment!
Izzy Hands kisses the hand of Wee John Feeney, who is sitting regally in drag on the lantern-lit deck of their ship. (Our Flag Means Death 2x6.)
September 5, 2025 at 2:19 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
I'm 95% sure this wasn't locked content, but I hope someone will correct me if I'm wrong!
A behind-the-scenes still of Con O'Neill as Izzy Hands kissing Kristian Nairn as Wee John during the filming of episode 2x6 of Our Flag Means Death.
September 5, 2025 at 7:15 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: In a rare moment of philosophy, Izzy Hands had decided that there was no greater curse than being able to hold two thoughts in your head at the same time. There were cleverer men who could juggle three, four, maybe even five, and reap the benefits of brilliance or the fuck-off freedom of madness. Then there were the lucky sort, who could only hold one thought at a time and could therefore set down any unwanted ones by picking up any reasonably skilled labour. But two, that was the worst of it. That was what would see you well the worse for drink on a beach outside of Nassau at sunset, getting kicked in the gut by the knowledge that it was really over this time and you were leaving, and getting kicked in the teeth by the knowledge that you were going to have to be up early to get back to the ship before he actually set sail without you. If he were someone else, there might have been room to imagine that maybe Ed was going to come looking for him and apologize, but he was a two-thought man through and through, and a realistic one at that.
September 4, 2025 at 12:03 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
Written for the 'Fang' and 'Water' squares of my 2025 Izzy Hands Bingo card. Note: this fic is set in the afterlife.

Fidelis (Our Flag Means Death, Fang/Izzy, rated T, 5630 words)
archiveofourown.org/works/70092521
Screenshot of AO3 metadata for Fidelis by Delphi. Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Relationship: Fang/Israel Hands Characters: Israel Hands, Fang, Fang's Dog Rated Teen, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, tagged for the following: Drama, Developing Relationship, Afterlife, Post-Canon, Reunions, Pets Summary: Izzy has spent the last decade on a small island in the middle of nowhere with only a dog for company. One day, an old friend comes to call. Language: English Words: 5,630 Chapters: 1/1
August 31, 2025 at 1:47 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document mixing narration and texting. redhouse: "I knew you'd like that track! That bass line's old school I saw them live last month." There it was. Nicely done, not too heavy. If Izzy felt a twinge of something else, i twas quickly outweighed by the satisfaction of being proved right. "Tickets pricey?" he typed, as he knew he was mean to. But the expected hit-up for money for the next show didn't come. redhouse: "Nope! I was opening for them. Well sort of opening for the opener. Warm up act. But I got to stick around for the show and got two drinks comped so score!" "What sort of music do you play?" Izzy asked, stumbling over the fact that they were apparently having an actual conversation. redhouse: "Sot of paisley underground revival leaning into acid folk but I'm going for more of a neo-bluebeat thing on my new EP." "Hipster music," Izzy wrote. "Got it." redhouse: "MEEEEAAAAAN"
August 27, 2025 at 3:15 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "You really think that's how any of it works?" Fang shrugged with the ease of a man who could haul half the weight of the world on his shoulders and roll it gently off again. "Don't know. But that's how it was at sea. Waste not, want not." Yeah. That was admittedly how it was at sea. You never threw anything away or blew money in port when you could turn something old into something new. "It's nice to think about," Fang continued. "But this is nice too." "This?" "Yeah," Fang said, looking around with a smile. "Cozy little house. Good company. Looks like there's nice fishing in that cove down there." "There's no fish in that water. Just fucking...shadows." Fang's smile only deepened. "Nice fishing isn't about catching any fishes. It's just about going fishing."
August 20, 2025 at 3:26 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "Izzy Hands," the man repeated, seemingly to himself, and nodded slowly. "I'm Fang. Kevin Fang." Half a question mark seemed to hang at the end of that. Shit, Izzy thought. Had they met before? There was something familiar about him. The voice, yeah? Soft for a guy his size. Izzy glanced from Kevin Fang's studded leather belt to the pair of engineer boots the size of cinder blocks on the mat just inside the door. They were the real deal, good quality ,taken care of by someone who knew how to treat leather. That meant it wasn't impossible that they'd passed through the same bars back in the day. Izzy didn't pick anyone up all that often, mostly just when Ed had dragged him out with an order to loosen up--or else when Jack crashed into town and swept Ed off with him to Atlantic City or Vegas for fuck knew how long. But admittedly, big and bearish with some good leather and nice tattoos was exactly the type Izzy would back up against a convenient wall on nights like those.
August 13, 2025 at 3:47 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: "We were good sailors, weren't we, Izzy? Knew how to navigate and all that." "Not like some." "No," Fan agreed. "But we got where we were going." "Did we?" "We were getting there." He suddenly looked bashful. "Weren't we?" "Yeah," Izzy said after a moment, having no number on hand for how many evenings here he'd sat up remembering the weight of Fang's arm around him. Remembering how it had felt to lean back and find Fang's chest there waiting for him. They had fucked, the night of Calypso's Birthday, for the first time in a couple of years, and the next morning it had briefly felt...as if something lay ahead of them instead of behind them.
August 6, 2025 at 3:01 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: “Sounds...” A reflexive dull as dishwater warred with nice and in the struggle tipped over toward better than getting gutshot. He faltered and finally just said, “Yeah.” “Then I was here, and I could see little Nosey on the dock–” ‘Nosey?’ Izzy mouthed at the dog, who didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed as it lounged on its back in the crook of Fang’s arm. “–and I knew wherever I was, it was someplace good.”
July 30, 2025 at 9:56 PM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
July 30, 2025 at 3:55 AM
wax-and-wings.bsky.social
For #OFMDWIPWednesday
Screenshot of a word processing document reading: Izzy opened up the app with trepidation, uncertain he wanted to see whatever pre-prepared (or stolen) dick pics this “Frenchie” had uploaded, but also hard up enough that he knew he was going to look. The pictures loaded, three of them, and he snorted despite himself. No dick pics, no seductive shots at all. Just the handsome idiot pulling faces of overenthusiastic astonishment as he mugged with a selection of new records, showing off one in each shot like a kid on Christmas morning. Here, he clutched something by someone called Stick Figure to his chest, the album art covered by his arms as he beamed. In the next, he pointed like Vanna White at a copy of Black Cat Bones’ Barbed Wire Sandwich propped up on a Formica table. In the third, he hugged Hey, Love by The New Rotary Connection to his side as though they were posing for a selfie together. It was good to know the money had actually gone to records. That it wasn't going to some worse habit, or–even more fucking depressing–to paying a bill the lad was legitimately struggling with. He wrote back: "Never heard of them."
July 23, 2025 at 4:05 PM