Frenchie Ofmd - Tumblr Posts

I'm bored, so have a (possibly) triggering first chapter look-see of my Ouizzy fic "A Dance With The Devil" that I'm gonna post. I plan to rewrite it to be more canon-accurate but also throw in a little personal spice since I love writing angst.

Also! For those of you who happen to read it anyways, I'd absolutely LOVE some feedback. (That includes the negative feedback. I don't get better unless it's given, and I strive to better my writing). Alright, let me put the trigger warning so we can be prepared!

TW/CW: implied/explicitly expressed abuse, canon typical violence, panic attack, mild aggression, and mentioned amputation and consumption of a toe.

⚠️Reader's discretion is advised.⚠️

Chap 1: Izzy's Torment.

Edward was in a horrid mood again.

Well, Blackbeard.

As typical, Izzy tried keeping things running as smoothly as possible, only speaking when spoken to and snapping orders at the crew if any were caught slacking. He spent the majority of his day limping around the deck, weight leaned on his cane. His foot fucking hurt, and the bandages around it chafed and caused the somewhat healing wound to open and bleed.

Izzy bites back a curse. Literally just a week ago when Blackbeard returned from being willingly captured by the English, Izzy had been force-fed his toe. He remembered that night with very little fondness despite the relieving excitement that coursed through him seeing that dark, malicious glare from Blackbeard. He swallowed thickly, once again reliving having to consume a piece of himself. How fucking poetic.

Leaning against the railing of the Revenge, Izzy stared out into the expanse of water surrounding the ship. The sun was hanging high in the sky, beating down on the deck in exhausting heat. He pulls away, sighing roughly and turned heel towards the lower decks to check in on the crew, to make sure they weren't slacking. They had a tight schedule, and Izzy made sure of it so they would stay busy.

As he descended, he could hear soft murmurs and hurried conversations before they went completely silent. Izzy's stony glare cast over the crew as they stand awkwardly in a circle, eyes directed at the ground as if in submission. Maybe it was genuine submission- that's all Izzy had disciplined into them in his fourteen hour power-trip when Edward was gone.

"What's with all of this... nonsense? Having a little chat with each other? Talking feelings?" Izzy rasps in lilting sarcasm, leaning on his cane with a scowl. No one responds, all except Jim. Their eyes remained trained on the ground, something unusual and out of character to their normally intense glare.

"We need an intervention." Their voice was slow but sure, and then the intense stare strays to Izzy. There was a small shock that ran through him, so subtle he wasn't sure it even happened. He nods his head upwards, chin slightly higher in curiosity.

“An intervention, ay? Ed wouldn't be too fond of that.” Izzy points out, tapping his cane against the floorboards to emphasize it. He sauntered forward, his scowl turning softer. “It's suicide to try and talk him out of this.”

“Still- it'd be better. For all of us.” Frenchie piped in, nervously looking anywhere that wasn't the shorter-statured man. Izzy had noticed the bard was very iffy about eye contact, fluctuating between a hard stare and no eye contact at all. The first-mate didn't know what to make of it, and instead decided it wasn't worth his time- knowing Stede Bonnet's crew, they'd have Izzy soft-side up and forcefully coddled like he was part of their crew. Part of them.

“Get back to work. Fuckin’ useless twats.” Izzy snarled, turning away. A deeper part of him knew that Jim was right- hell, even Frenchie! Of all people, excluding Jim, Frenchie actually had a point- one stating that sitting idly by would only make things worse. Izzy would never admit it, even in his dying breath that he agreed with Stede fucking Bonnet's maniac of a bard. Shame worms its way up Izzy's spine, settling in the center of his chest like a weight in his ribcage.

He… wanted to mutiny against Blackbeard. The one thing Izzy swore his life to uphold the name of, and here he was regretting his choices. A sickening feeling sits ominously idle in his gut, like a viper waiting to strike… waiting until Izzy is distracted. The first-mate swallowed back the rising pain in his throat, stalking off to the top deck and not even waiting to see if the crew listened.

He found himself below deck in his cabin. He was pacing the cramped room, hands tangled in his graying hair, trying to calm the raging storm of emotions in his mind. Izzy was never one for emotions, always keeping them bottled up until they all came out in spiteful insults and barked orders. Right now was not one of those times.

In a swift attempt of releasing his pent up self-destructive loathing, he grabbed a stool and threw it against the wall, the wood exploding into splintering shrapnel as it made impact. Izzy let out a strained shout, heaving in breaths as his attempt of control became vain. He had never let the thought of mutiny cross his mind.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Izzy growls, sitting roughly on his rickety cot and burying his face in his hands. He was sure his death was imminent if Blackbeard heard any whisper or word of possible opposition. The crew would die alongside Izzy if they didn't cower to the Kraken's absolutely mental demands and pressuring emotional manipulation.

Izzy Hands wanted to turncoat on Blackbeard, the man- no, the myth- he helped create. To break the promise he had made so long ago that it became the very air he breathed to upkeep. All for just a little taste of comfort in a trying time that won't last. He was stupid for letting himself be so… invested in the damn crew. How they felt, how they saw him, how they fucking bitched and moaned about how horrible Blackbeard treated them and yet, Izzy understood. How, he'd never know and even if he did, he'd never tell.

Of all people, Israel Hands understood their pain. Of all things, he could empathize with their distaste and wariness of Blackbeard's volatile behavior. The only grace Izzy gave the crew was being the one who took the brunt of all of the Kraken's anger and physical violence. And he wanted it. He deserved it.

A strangled sob left him, his heart hammering in his chest as his throat felt like it was closing. The walls felt like they were closing, his vision tunneling into the abysmal darkness of his own mind, eating away at whatever control he had garnered before it all went black. Silent. His body ached, his chest tightened and he couldn't breathe. He blindly grabs at his shirt, the collar, ripping at his clothes just for some air. Another noise left him as his struggles proved fruitless and he felt suffocated in the weight of this newfound desire to flee. To run from his past, his choices, his actions.

And as if it were as sudden as it set in, he calmed. His breathing was still yet heavy and sharp, sweat soaking his brow and clothes. He was shaking, hands gripping the front of his leather vest like his life was on the line. And it was. If he even told Ed about any of this, he'd lose another toe- no, his entire foot, maybe his life. He inhaled sharply, shakily. He had to set this right.

Whatever it was he needed to do, he'd do it. He stiffly removed his hands from his shirt, gingerly flexing his fingers to get feeling back into them. Smoothing back his disheveled hair and wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he took in a steadier breath. He'd steel himself, force back all of this panic and anguish and become Izzy Hands again. Cold, stoic, and damn near emotionless. Calculated- not some emotional disaster who couldn't even fathom not being dependent on his captain.

A little one-shot I tried to write and probably failed. I had motivation to write this, but most of it was at like, 3-4 am? I just wanted to write Izzy getting his ass handed to him by a bard (Frenchie) with very little swordsman skills. That's a lie, I have a headcanon Frenchie is actually really good with a sword, just prefers more... manipulative tactics or close combat tools, and by extension likes to make opponents think he's a clumsy idiot who can't hold a sword. (Turns out, he can and will rip you a new one)

Same rules go for this one, btw! Critique- both good and bad- is invited and urged. I want to better my skills.

Inspiration: conversation regarding server members and how they got together ❤️ also me wanting Izzy's ass whooped (an Izzy enabler, apologist, and lover)

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Israel Hands doesn't lose duels.

That's what he had been thinking as he stepped up on deck with his rapier drawn and twirling languidly as he let the weight become an extension of him again. It was a part of him, his identity and his being- "born to wield a blade" he had been told many a time in his life.

It was how he lived as long as he did, how his captain used him. A sword, right hand man, the like. First mate. Izzy's near permanent scowl remained as he heard the shuffle of feet and a small mumbled curse as the sharp clatter of metal on wood made him turn to face his opponent- the damn bard that resided with the Revenge crew.

Izzy scoffed in appallment. He didn't know how this crew lived as long as they have. He had previously assumed the deft fingerwork this man had while playing a mandolin would extend into holding a sword, but he was proven wrong.

"Pick up your fuckin' sword."

"Right... yeah. Sorry."

Izzy's eyes follow the bard's hands as they reach for the sword, lifting it up and testing its weight in his grip before giving a couple aimless swings. Another scoff leaves Izzy, a look of disgruntled judgement on his face now. He couldn't believe he would have to duel this atrocious example of an opponent.

As they took their places, Izzy a few paces from the bard, they get into their stances. The one thing that caught Izzy off guard slightly was how firm the man's posture became, the excitement glimmering in the warm chocolate depths of his eyes. Like he was preparing for this moment. Like he was waiting forever just to have this chance.

It was the bard that moved first. Their swords meet, Izzy easily parrying then slipping aside and taking his own offense. The opponent blocked, and the clash of metal on metal sounded like angels singing in his ears.

Izzy relished the song, and lived the dance that came along. How the bard kept up was beyond Izzy, but the effort brought savage focus to his face. Well, what Izzy had thought it looked and felt. His heart raced, the singing of the metal cacophony nothing more than music as the men viciously danced around the deck.

°°°°°°°°°

Frenchie wasn't exactly sure what had let the idea of challenging Izzy to a duel into his mind.

When he had initially approached the first mate of Blackbeard, Frenchie was sure that he'd have his head bit off by the man. Based on his experiences with people like that, he couldn't let them off the hook. An odd interaction where Frenchie had gotten irritated at Izzy being a petty asshole while the bard was trying to do daily care for his mandolin had lead to an aggressive "I challenge you to a duel, you spiteful ship goblin" and a very calm and very ominous "Challenge accepted".

Now here they were, on deck and Frenchie basically fighting for his life.

He hasn't picked up a sword since some time before Stede, to which he laid down arms and settled for his original plan- playing music to keep the time. Though, this duel wasn't much different than any other song and dance, he learned quickly. Each step was specific, him returning blows almost like it was second nature. He didn't know how he had been able to fend off Izzy for so long- he was sure his demise was imminent.

Unless Izzy was going easy on him?

The look on the man's face said otherwise- he looked thoroughly pissed, but that was an constant thing and any change from it was most likely the end of the world. Frenchie's arm came up to block the overhead swing Izzy tried to land, and the taller man ducked lower and shoves Izzy back with a pretty heavy shoulder hit to the torso. The shorter man stumbled back, Frenchie following up with a slash towards Izzy's abdomen.

It was blocked easily.

Another back and forth ensues, sweat beading on Frenchie's brow as the adrenaline wore off and he began to falter. Izzy came in hot, like a blazing fire as anger fueled each movement. It honestly had Frenchie enthralled and how fluid the older man moved.

Dancing, is what the bard akinned it to. An idea sparks, and his own offense became more focused on keeping Izzy's blade with his own. Each step was like the makings of a dance when Frenchie moved, as did Izzy in kind. Swords met, feet step into another mirrored position, the noise of clashing metal like their own tune.

°°°°°°°°°°

It was glorious.

The bard has clearly impressed Izzy, and the older man could feel his lips pull into a genuinely entertained grin. That was, until Izzy let the realization that this fucking bard could've done so much more than sit and play music this entire time during raids.

Their dance was broken when Izzy attempts a punishing slash to Frenchie's abdomen as a comeback to his previous attempt towards Izzy, the bard bringing his sword up in response and pushing Izzy's blade up and over in a strained arch, then to a clattering slide across the deck. The look on the bard's face was that of surprise, yet it was returned with Izzy's own- then clearly spiteful anger.

Before it changed to... pride?

Izzy was proud of this man, even as Frenchie raised an ever-so-subtly shaking sword tip to the first mate's throat. Izzy could easily continue this fight, but something in his being tingled with anticipation, like he could get something more from this. A small smirk settled on his lips as he heard the unsure tone in Frenchie's voice.

"Do you yield?"

"I... yield."

The look on the bard's face was near priceless. It almost made Izzy bark out a laugh at how seriously shocked Frenchie was to have bested Izzy Hands.  He actually enjoyed this look on his face. While he'd usually be more than furious someone had beaten him in a single round, this was an odd exception. His eyes meet Frenchie's, and for a moment, he felt a flutter in his chest.

"Best two out of three?" Frenchie offered, breathing coming in slightly labored. His hand had steadied slightly more in the pregnant pause of the victory, a cheeky smile now gracing his face. Another flutter.

Izzy accepted as the bard lowered his sword. His gaze follow the man as he went to retrieve Izzy's rapier, handing it to him. Izzy returned the smile with one of his own- and he took note of the subtle flush of pink across Frenchie's face.

"Two out of three, then. Don't expect to have the same luck this round. I won't go easy on you now that I know your level of experience."

He raised his rapier to Frenchie's blade, the sharp shink of metal on metal signifying his further acceptance. And with that, another round began.

To say Frenchie lost would've been a lie- it had appeared to the crew Izzy was talking out of his ass when the bard won the next two duels, albeit with more difficulty each round than the last.

Literally about to turn the entire Revenge crew into furries.

No, don't even try to stop me.

*clawing at my enclosure*

I love vampire themed art and THIS RIGHT HERE IS WHY

Tumblr over here spoiling me for realsies 🙏🫶😭

first bite

Anyone else here wishing there were more Joel Fry shanties? My guy would have me jamming to some sick ass pirate shanties while having an emotional breakdown over gay pirates.

Modern AU Ouizzy oneshot where the Revenge crew are surprised when they find out that Izzy likes white girl music and think it's because of Frenchie but it's actually the other way around.

Alternatively, Modern AU Stizzy oneshot where Izzy finds out Stede has the raunchiest Spotify playlist he's ever heard. No, he's not disappointed. Yes, that's all Stede. No, he's not gonna tell Stede he likes his music taste- he's obviously gonna stare at him like he's fucking insane.

I'm gonna be a brave boy and post this drawing I did. The background and the settee are not mine because I can't draw furniture or backgrounds to save my life- but I did draw these two!

If you look really close, the pattern on Frenchie's tie and pocket square have little green roses on them! (In honor of La Vie en Rose, obviously)

More spoilers for season 2 EPS 4-5

Revisiting the Edward talk. I really do stand to what I said before. Edwards the product of a cycle of abuse and a man who couldn't listen to others. Though I believe it was a bit fast paced on screen I'm really excited on him actually changing.

Him offering to let lucuis push him overboard was a nice step, and I hope that it both cleared his and lucuis consciousness.

The conversation with fang I do hope made Edward realize that he's been seeing things wrong for a long while now, and now he'll look at things he thought were okay and re evaluate them.

I hope we get scenes with all the rest of the crew, ESPECIALLY Frenchie, Jim and Archie. They deserve some Fucking punches on Edward.

Though. I think the man I want Edward to reconcile with the most is Izzy. Izzy's causing some problems for himself and I can tell. But I think the only way he can fix them is with Edward. And I do really hope they both can work their shit out, with or without Stedes help.

Edward deserves love, but he also deserves to pay for the shit he did too the crew. Baby steps at a time, but just like Buttons, we can all change.

Frenchie sleeping between Wee John, Olu and fang in a cuddle pile

NEW ANIMATIC IS FINALLY OUT!! I mostly made this on a whim because I am of the correct opinion that Izzy Hands and Pearl from Steven Universe are the same character in different fonts, but uh...that might have not been the best excuse to make an animatic because you can tell I kind of got sick of it by the end and I couldn’t be assed to color it in but I never have to look at it again so!

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Unrelated. Frenchies hips. Frenchies hips slipping through the bars. So fucking hot. My god.

People calling Frenchie’s jacket an MCR jacket and not a Jimi Hendrix jacket, how does it feel to be you? Genuinely asking.

… Thorns & all x

My turn to draw the spiky cuddle 🥹

furthering my Frenchie/Spanish Jackie agenda oop-

anyways he’s so fucking bi ace it hurts

they’re married for fun and it entirely consists of making out in closets, playing songs, and having drinking contests