lu rotting in gae piracy

got tagged by the awsome @captainrexshusband, thank you pal as always 🤙

last song listened to: shower day by the amazing devil

currently reading: just finished under the whispering door by tj klune, my beloved, and now i jumped into something completely different, the flood of the blackwater series by michael mceachern mcdowell

currently watching: our flag means death, quite obviously, gen v, and oh boi, this rom-com i found on prime very randomly, upload, just to balance the great content with some good trash comedy show

currently obsessed with: my brother, my cousin, my uncle joel fry, been spending the past few days listening to his songs, then, predictably, the gae pirate show, once again they’re ruining my life and making it much better at the same time

would it be cliché to say “never left”? probably, mostly because it’s totally true that i kinda left

gotta admit i missed the little ouizzy fanclub here on this marvellous place, and i send everyone many many kisses, hold y’all hands just like frenchie did with izzy (i can’t stop bringing this up for five seconds)

season 2 kicked us directly in the face, multiple times, and without any kind of warning and i feel like if i’d told my past self we would’ve got some kind of ouizzy interaction, she would’ve cracked up to my face, even if i’d died to see them having the tiniest something going on

but honestly, i couldn’t ask for a better start

the way frenchie holds izzy’s gloved hand as soon as he starts crying, even if fang is already there, hugging the small man the best he can, giving him warmth and solace. and then, frenchie leans on izzy’s leg in the red flag jail, when, by now, the crew has already accepted their fate with resignation because having a deadline is much better than what they had before. and at this moment, frenchie naturally leans on him to let him know he’s there, his head propped on izzy’s thigh, comfortable enough to do it. frenchie’s not afraid of him. none of them is undoubtedly frightened of izzy, who not so long ago despised every one of them, every one of the useless pirates of stede fuckin’ bonnet’s dysfunctional crew, because now that specific man is the only one keeping them from being swallowed by the kraken

so. ahem. well.

first things first, if the anon hadn’t asked it, i wouldn’t even notice the post was gone, or rather, it’s not really gone but it has been flagged as mature by community labels or something similar, so, it’s there but it’s mature

no shit, sherlock

i mean, when posting the entire (more like 2/3 pfff) of the kinktober mini-series i don’t think there were community labels, and if i’m wrong, well, just didn’t know what those were—

anyhoo, back in june, i convinced myself i could embark on the mystic adventure of that cool thing called writing from scratch in english despite me having a troubled relationship with english, like sometimes, what the fuck are adverbs and why there are no diminutives and endearments like in Italian. still, i decided to finally use the prompt for the modern ouizzy au i wrote down as a fever dream one day, but i failed. because english sucks. and now whenever i open the sims 4 and play in the save dedicated to the crew i’m getting reminded of that google document i haven't opened for ages, and go back making my sims having the best lives they could ask for without thinking about that forbidden file

so, since ouizzy is undoubtedly my comfort ship and i can ramble about for hours forgetting all my responsibilities, yeah obviously i’m writing an ouizzy fic. or whatever. have no idea for how long i will carry this writing thing on. helped by the powers of the ancient muses and my thick cat sleeping like a log, i had the most unoriginal idea of the au where izzy’s a cat—yeah, quite unoriginal but I wanted to write about a cat, and it would be boring just having a cat and no izzy so, boom, shapeshifting cat. still unoriginal as fuck, but this won’t stop me. i imagined a setting where frenchie’s an indie musician, struggling with the life of an emerging artist (who knows if he’ll be part of a band, getting more characters into the scene), having a very chaotic but at the same time normal life, and he starts noticing a cat sleeping from time to time outside of his house right there, on the brick wall, staring deeply inside his soul as cats do when he tries to walk by. and frenchie doesn’t truly like it, because he’s frenchie, and he’s frightened by cats, obviously, and a black grizzled cat creepily looking at him is not what he dreamed of, neither what he asked santa for

but having izzy shapeshift whenever he wants would be too easy (meaning i am basically dooming myself into thinking about a real plot) so what if the cat can only shapeshift into a human during the night, making no sense because cats are most active at night, but who cares. and at this point of my brilliant enlightenment, i realised it was becoming the plot of one of my favourite manhwa (“wolf in the house” by park jiyeon if you wonder) with the only difference being the main character is a wolf and not a cat. fuck.

anyway i’m still writing it because i am in need of my regular dose of ouizzy and i’ve been denying myself for too much now

Before sliding into bed, Izzy has this dragging ritual of undressing, taking his time and not bothering to rush his movements, and Frenchie has no voice in the matter and can only tie to his habits. In reality, the lad has no right to complain, considering it gives such a sense of calm and tranquillity rarely attributed to Izzy.

He’s so meticulous in everything he does that Frenchie can’t dart his eyes off his hands, skating preciously on his linen shirt as he lets each button pass through the slit of the eyelets, unties the black laces bracing his sleeves at the elbows or even sits to slip out of his leather boots, briefly massaging his achy feet after a long and tiring day of work, barely getting the time to sit down and rest. Sometimes, Izzy turns to meet Frenchie’s gaze as if he knew the other would be mesmerisingly staring, a thin smile painted on his lips, and slows his motions, a tease for the lad, who’s patient, but not this patient.

Still, Frenchie hasn’t the nerve to interrupt. He doesn't want to, prefers to taste the wait on his tongue, taste with his eyes, enraptured by his rigour while getting undressed.

Next, Izzy undoes his necktie, the silver ring secured on his writing desk, on top of a satin handkerchief, and passes to undoing his trousers. And as he’s watching him, Frenchie starts feeling his eyelids heavy, much heavier than before, one fluttering close gradually and without his notice, the other following, swallowing a big and wide yawn while covering his mouth with the heel of his hand.

“Oi, sleepyhead,” rudely shouts Izzy, stumbling towards the bed with his shirt open, falling loosely from one shoulder, making it look even more billowing than when it’s buttoned up. Frenchie shakes his head, blinking out of that drifting phase quite dopey and smiles dreamily, just getting the tattoo under Izzy’s left eye to twitch huffily in return. Despite knowing he’s anything but truly angered, there’s something in his glare that makes him slowly swallow, another yawn fading before it's even in the back of his mouth. Hence, Izzy grabs Frenchie’s striped shirt, still gentle, and pulls him up, leaning in to make their foreheads almost touch, hazel-grey eyes fixed on his. Now Frenchie’s sure to be fully awake. “You sure you want to fall asleep like this?”

Frenchie’s mouth opens, then quickly closes as he's unsure what to tell him. “Wasn’t my plan, but you were takin’ way too long stripping. You know, it’s kinda late, Iz.”

Izzy snorts, amused, “Fine. Don’t come crying to me later, Frenchie. It won’t work.”