#anyway. james flint mentioned!!
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Continued from here. @fornassau
It was cute to see Charles so excited about whatever it was that he had planned, if anything. He mentioned the two of them getting away from Nassau for a bit - away from all of the fighting, the treasure, the war, all of it, and though he didn't exactly say how or where, it was clear to James that he had something in mind. Either he was too nervous to say or he wanted to leave it as a surprise and either way, James found it to be quite sweet and endearing. How could he say no? Not that he would have anyway because quite honestly, getting away from all of this sounded fucking fantastic. And much needed for the both of them. Not to mention much needed for their relationship because it was hard to have some privacy on this fucking island. Everyone was so into their damn relationship it felt like eyes were always on them. They came out with it not too long ago and James was still getting used to it.
He didn't regret it, though. Of course not. But that fear he admitted to Charles still lingered. How could it not with the war raging on and the amount of enemies they had? Especially Flint. But he tried not to worry too much and instead focused on how fucking good it did feel to be open. To not have to hide anything. And the best part about it? No punishment. No banishment. No execution. They could be who they wanted to be. They could be together. They were free to do so. Free to kiss whenever, wherever they wanted, free to to hold hands if they so desired, free to just be them. Though, Charles always tried to take it a step further in public, but James was able to resist. He may be content with their relationship being public, but he wasn't going to fuck the man in public. Much to Charles' disappointment. But he also knew it was just Charles trying to rile him up. Trying to be a little shit which he was very good at.
But damn did he love the bastard. With his entire fucking heart.
And he, too, was excited about their time alone. So after their drink at the tavern, he followed Charles outside of Nassau, to wherever it was he was taking them. "Not leading me into some sort of trap, are you, Charles?" He teases the other man with a smirk, meeting his eyes when he looks over his shoulder at him. Of course the days of their rivalry and desire to rid of the other were over, but they still teased one another about it every now and then. Something they could look back on and laugh at, really.
But it appeared Charles was right. Because soon they seemed to arrive at their destination and James' face lit up. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He wasn't quite sure what he expected but it wasn't this. But he wasn't complaining. Not at all. And the way Charles was talking more than he usually did while rocking back and forth on his feet showed just how nervous he was, how unsure he was if James was going to like this, and it was fucking adorable. Not only that, but romantic, too, because this was Charles. Not only did he spend time setting all of this up for just the two of them, but it was Charles opening up about himself. About his past. It was him sharing his life with James, sharing the things he enjoyed and loved. And James fucking loved it. It made his heart fill with warmth as he moved to stand next to the other, ocean blues taking in everything before them. The targets, the rum, the basket that likely held their food. Fuck. He really was romantic.
And James has never done anything like this before.
"I do." He confirms, finally turning to look at Charles. "I fucking love it, actually." To help calm his nerves, James reaches up to cup Charles' neck and pulls him in for a loving and passionate kiss. "And of course you'd suggest we do something you'll likely beat me at." He teases with a smile, kissing him once more before he pulls back. James wasn't sure if it was intending to be a competition, but knowing them, it would become one. "Think I'll throw a few before having any rum." He chuckles because as much as he loved rum, combining it with throwing sharp, deadly weapons? Who knows what would happen. So, he walks over to one of the axes and wraps his hand around it, lifting it and staring out at one of the targets in front of them. "How hard can it be?" He almost sounds confident as he lifts it. It's not too heavy, but certainly heavier than the weaponry he's used to. He aims for one of the targets, the one directly in front of him, but at a good distance. He stares intensely at the target, aiming for the dead center as he raises his hand, moves it back behind his head and throws it forward. It flies through the air with great speed - or so he thinks - heading right for the target.
Only for it to hit right below the target, bouncing off the tree and falling onto the ground. “Huh…”
#this is so cute ahhh#charles is adorable and flint loves him#him failing his first throw lmao#c; james flint#fornassau
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Ooh would you be able to write some James/Thomas/Miranda just hanging out being cute together? In London or maybe an AU where Flint and Miranda saved Thomas from the plantation in season 2 instead of going to Charlestown? (yes that scenario does live rent free in my mind, why do you ask?) Anyway thanks in advance/either way! 💜
I realised I hadn’t gone down the being cute together road so tacked a new ending on which made it longer but OH WELL flinthamiltons live on!!!
———
She had noticed immediately that something was wrong. The way their old friend, the man they had counted on as an ally, had been cold and had dodged their questions at every turn. Miranda had seen the clock and then-
She had warned James in a hurried, furious whisper, rage bubbling just under the surface. She demanded he find out what the truth was.
And he did.
Peter Ashe had been their betrayer all those years ago. He had taken everything from them, destroyed their lives and their happiness. Whatever friendship had been between him and Thomas was all but dead.
“Here! Please, just don’t- don’t kill me!” The man pleaded, a ledger held out in his hands like a shield. Abigail was stood pale and unblinking as she heard of her father’s betrayal. She did not speak in his defence. Miranda was glad for that.
James, his face twisted in pain and anger, took the ledger. The dinner knife in his hand was hardly a weapon befitting the legend surrounding him, but she knew he would use it if needed. One mention of Thomas’ name and he would be willing to carve out this man’s heart.
She held her tongue. Enough blood had been spilled for now.
The ledger contained a list. Names, numbers, prices, locations and dates. Miranda watched as James’ eyes scanned the pages, frantically looking for some sign of why this was worth Ashe’s life. The moment he saw it, his body slumped. The air rushed from his lungs, colour drained from his face, the knife fell from his hand and hit the floor with a terrible thud. Miranda saw tears from in his eyes and rushed to look at the page.
Thomas Hamilton. Charlestown to Savannah, Georgia.
“He’s alive.”
James’ voice sounded like it was coming from the next room. He touched the paper, fingers caressing Thomas’ name, and Miranda clutched at him with both hands.
“We can find him, James. He can be home with us again!” She felt herself shaking, the room almost spinning as she tried to breathe through the sudden panic in her chest. James was silent but she felt him nod, felt him lean into her.
In the end they let Ashe live. It was more than he deserved. But Abigail needed a family, someone to provide for her, and they were not in a position to do that yet. Perhaps, in a year, she might…
They sailed to the mainland. The Ranger followed them, an uneasy truce between Flint and Vane struck by the knowledge they would be freeing people from bondage and claiming any riches found for themselves. The Walrus would come out with less, the only prize Captain Flint sought would be worth more to him than any gold.
When they reached the plantation it was… devastating to behold. The main house was all splendour and clean prosperity. Slaves and servants in pristine white clothes answered every whim the master of the house thought of. Even as Flint and Vane stormed in, guns raised, the slimy man kept his head. He quietly tried to bargain his way out of disaster and, to Miranda’s secret sinful joy, failed. He was slain without mercy. James’ true beauty shone through as he raided the rooms, searching tirelessly for his prize, for her prize, and Miranda wielded a sword he had given her to join the party.
They found him in the fields.
The world stopped spinning. The sun came out from behind the clouds. Birds ceased their songs as he turned to face them, confusion writ large on his aged features. The blue of his eyes seemed somehow diminished even as they widened in recognition. He moved slowly towards them, limbs long and thin as they always had been, the white of his clothes marred with earth and flecks of what might have been dried blood stains.
They approached him together, she and James, side by side, the three of them colliding like galaxies. Thomas’ arms wrapped around them and a laugh like cannon fire burst from his chest, loud and unrestrained and almost painful to hear. Miranda buried her face in his neck. She felt James sobbing against her side, felt her own sobs ripped from her, and suddenly everything was different.
It wasn’t alright, there were still ten years of hell to reconcile for all of them. But now they had the rest of their lives to do that.
Thomas pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips chapped but warm on her skin, and she gazed up at him through her tears.
“I love you,” she whispered to him, “I love you.”
He smiled at her and it was so like when he had smiled at her back in London that she had to hold her breath.
“Thomas,” she heard James say, his voice thick and utterly wrecked.
Thomas turned, his expression so open and broken, and Miranda watched as they came together again. The kiss was hard, desperate, no doubt tasting of salt. They clung on to each other, still holding on to Miranda, completely unmindful of the people around them. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had kissed in the clear light of day. Her heart broke even as it began to mend.
Someone approached carefully, and she saw Thomas flinch, his hands tightening on them. He brought them closer, protectively.
“We should leave,” Captain Vane said. “One of the guards will have made it to town by now.”
James nodded even as he gripped Thomas’ shirt in one fist. “Fine. Well- five minutes and we’ll leave.”
Back on the Walrus, Thomas was given a wide berth at James’ order. He was taken to the Captain’s cabin and James had to tear himself away to see to his duties. Miranda stayed with him, nearly constantly touching him, and he touching her, the two of them sat in near silence as they breathed in the changed scent of one another.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Thomas asked under his breath. She shook her head and kissed the bruised, swollen knuckles on his hands. “Good. Good… I don’t think I could survive it if it were.”
She cupped his cheek and turned his face to her. “It’s real, Thomas. You’re really here with us.”
Nothing, not height nor depth, not life nor death, would part them now. Thomas was home.
—
Months later they were in Nassau and Miranda’s cottage was full of life. Bread was baking, herbs were drying, and there was laughter coming from the garden.
Thomas leaned his head on her shoulder, a cup of tea balanced precariously on his knee as they watched James. The fearsome Captain Flint was demonstrating how he had managed to get out of a particularly nasty predicament. He had been tied to a chair, trying to calm a rather irate bosun’s mate, and Miranda had lost track of the rest. She was too engrossed in the sound of her two love’s laughter. James kept bursting into giggles as he described his adventures. Thomas would laugh alongside him, his body moving against hers as the laughter took him.
She laughed too, but softer. The tea she had made them had long gone cold. But, later, they would sit in front of the fire and Thomas would tell them a little about his time without them. They would share stories, cry together, and then go to bed and sleep in a too-warm pile but unable to disentangle themselves.
James wandered over at the end of his story and sat in front of them on the grass. He rested his chin on Thomas’ knee and gazed up at him like an adoring puppy. Miranda ran her fingers through his long red hair, not as long as it had been in London, but it was growing out again.
“What are we having for dinner this evening?” Thomas asked, running his fingers over James’ cheek. He didn’t seem to be really asking about food.
“Whatever you desire,” James said.
Miranda had to laugh, she couldn’t help herself. “James, my love, you can’t cook.”
“Maybe not,” he said lowly, “but I have plenty of other talents.”
She tugged his hair lightly and laughed at his grin. “None that will stop Thomas’ stomach rumbling like a naval battle!”
Thomas didn’t even try to seem offended. He knew all too well how true it was.
“We can eat bread and butter in between,” James said with another grin.
“Sounds delicious,” Thomas stroked a finger down James’s cheek and pressed it to his lower lip.
“Come on,” Miranda said, tugging at the two distracted lovers. “Before you scandalise the chickens. The hens will start getting ideas.”
They wandered back into the cottage hand in hand, Thomas between them as he so often was nowadays. Miranda squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. There were new lines on his face she had begun to memorise over the past few months - around his mouth, around his eyes, etched into his forehead, all new but none unloved. It was the same with herself she was sure, and with James. They had aged, all three of them, and Miranda was enjoying the new patterns on their skin.
Slowly, they were relearning how to be together again. Miranda was relishing the challenge.
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I saw your tags... have at it! I'm curious :D Top 5 Black Sails scenes please!
i let myself stew with this for a few days because i didn't know what to write XD
so.
my all time favourite moment that i wasn't prepared for was TELL YOUR GUVNOR TELL HIM I'M COMING and, i mean, the whole episode, but it's like we've seen flint be violent and aggressive and we know he's a good fighter but we've not really seen him make a concerted effort and actually marshal troops and carry out an intricate plan and it being allowed to work??!! like he is finally able to use all his grief and anger towards something that makes sense and it's really beautiful. he feels so powerful in that episode to me, the sheer fucking confidence. i tend to pretend season 4 doesn't exist tbh, there's just too much heartache in it, too much in-fighting. but here he's so inspiring and he fucking knows it and in my mind i have this framed and i hope i can remember it forever.
(i think the relationship between flint wanting to protect nassau and rebuild it but never really communicates that vs him communicating it and putting it into practise, ... it's like he feels more alive to me in the season finale? like he's found a way to apply himself and channel his energy. i have spent a lot of time thinking about him wrt shadow work and i think he's one of the few characters who experience their own dark side and integrate the shadow and that is very powerful to me.)
james meeting thomas for the first time. like, the instant chemistry and the sass, this is what it's like to meet people you fall in love with and it's so perfect and i know it's his memory and maybe it wasn't so perfect but it was perfect to james anyway and i love them i love them i love them. i love ships that have this instant chemistry and i love that toby and rupert knew each other and it's so palpable. full marks, no notes.
anne coming home to max in the bath tub and taking off her gear and just sitting beside her. they have so many great moments but this one stands out to me for its ordinariness and domesticity i think. it's so quiet.
anne emerging from the water to take over a ship. fucking hell! i wish the actor who played her was in more things but also i think after playing anne bonny like this you probably might as well retire. love anne leading her people and i'd absolutely want to see more of her fighting and pirating and i love her so much.
flint murdering gates. i have a whole fascination with the intimacy of murder and they did this beautifully. i love that we understand exactly why it is happening (and i'd argue that gates should have seen this coming) and why it's a heartache and still we want to prevent it. like, it's perfect, you know. as far as murders go, it shows you each aspect exactly and you are left powerless. and i loved how much it represents a moral event horizon situation and is it possible to come back from it, and of course it's silver who even attempts to do it. it's rare in drama that a scene feels so utterly in-character for everyone and is so heartbreaking as well. excellent stuff.
honourable mentions:
'i only ever wanted you to be happy' totally unexpected and so beautiful.
vane and flint on trial in charleston. it's so funny and i may ship them a little bit.
idk if that is all of them, i haven't seen the show in a couple of years now, but i remember blogging my reactions to a friend and these were some of the things that really stood out to me.
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honest to god thank you for your opinions on flint/thomas hamilton and especially flint/silver/hamilton I’m new here but i feel like i’m taking crazy pills in this fandom. I have never cared less about anyone than about thomas hamilton. we barely know him! at least we know miranda? and what even is flint/silver/hamilton how on earth does that work? (not even mentioning madi because that’s a whole nother can of worms). and even if the ending was as silver said (doubt), what would flint and thomas even have except an extremely brief shared history? what is the hold thomas hamilton has on this fandom? why is there is much flintsilverthomas? ao3 is chock full of it. it can’t just be a gay man on screen because…because it can’t just be that. what am I missing that everyone else sees? anyways good of you to say so as well i’m digging your takes
it quite literally IS just that he's a white gay man on screen. that's it. there's nothing else to distinguish him in a positive way. he showed up for 30 minutes to quote the bible, advocate for colonialism, wear ugly wigs and spout a totally incoherent political position.
like yes his plan was to offer a universal pardon. and when the pirates said no? when they said we won't take your pardon (because from what we know of the pirates at this time, there's no way they would have said yes) you'll have to kill us first? what does the fandom think thomas hamilton would have done. just leave? ask nicely again? is he stupid? is he complicit? the answer is both.
i actually do think silver was telling (his version of the) truth. i think flint & thomas reunite, though i have a very different interpretation of how their relationship played out post-series- looks mournfully at my fic outlines- one day i will share my thoughts on this further.
i think that thomas is absolutely positioned as flint's penelope, but like all the parallels in this show, this parallel is most interesting for its subversiveness. like odysseus and penelope get along so well because they're both smart, manipulative fucking liars (silverflint cough cough.) but the Narrative positions flint & his return to Thomas after twenty years as being the odysseus-penelope reunion, whereas flint only becomes peak Odysseus after becoming flint from james mcgraw. to me in The Show About Not Taking Things At Surface Value it could not be more obvious that silver is trying to frame the story as odysseus returning to penelope. i mean we only see what happens in his story about it. flint returns to "penelope" in chains he is FORCED there. so when people are like "aww he returned to his true love" like to each their own i guess but it must be so boring watching black sails as you.
"not even mentioning madi cause thats a whole nother can of worms" congratulations you just described the thought processs behind every silverflinthamilton work on ao3
#og#asks#(going up to thomas hamilton stans with a microphone: tell me what you like about him other than him being gay. quickly.)
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i hate it when people are so caught up in their belief that i’m a fucking moron they don’t realize that i’m actually very funny. someone mentioned today that they thought captain flint was an OC from a fanfic and i commented that technically captain flint is james mcgraw’s OC, and then someone who knew black sails and knew treasure island just says to me “actually captain flint is a character from treasure island” anyway i guess i’ll just go lie in traffic
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Flint’s Death and Treasure Island
Okay, so its my personal opinion that Flint is alive at the end of Black Sails, and that’s mostly because of the context of Treasure Island. Billy tells Jim Hawkins that Flint gave him the map on his deathbed, and I don’t see why Billy would feel the need to lie to a random child about this (and even if the whole book is an unreliable narrative, I don’t see why Jim would lie about this detail either). But anyway, if this is true, it leaves so many questions about what Flint’s life was like in the interim 30+(!) years.
There’s a lot left to the imagination, mostly based on our interpretations of his characterization (and Thomas’), but we do have a few clues as long as we suspend our disbelief and take what we’re told in TI as face value.
1. He died of alcohol poisoning at an inn in Savannah sometime around July 1754, over three decades after the events of BS.
Thoughts this prompts: Why did he die there and in that way? Based on this it seems they stayed in the Savannah area, but I don’t believe it was on the plantation. As for the rum, something clearly pushed him to despair. My personal opinion is that Thomas had recently died and he couldn’t take it a second time.
2. Flint drew the map in 1750, four years before he gave it to Billy
Thoughts this prompts: this shows us that he was still thinking about the treasure and what it represented. Importantly, he also signs the map J.F.– Flint! If he had really been ‘unmade’ like Silver claimed, why sign that name that James so clearly had so much baggage with?
3. Both Billy and Silver were there when he died, perhaps along with the other surviving Walrus crew-members (Ben Gunn quotes Flint’s last words but he may have gotten that from a story from Silver, it’s unclear)
Thoughts this prompts: Why were they there when he was dying? How did they even find? One theory is that Billy was after the map and Silver was already chasing after him for it, and it just happened that Flint was dying at the time. But was that it? Would that be so important that Silver would even be willing to face him (and admit that he was right about caring one day)?
4. His last words were yelling after someone named “Darby McGraw”
Thoughts this prompts: who the FUCK is Darby?? This one keeps me up at night. I mean, it’s his last name, so did he and Thomas like, adopt a child?? Or maybe that was Thomas’ alias? EDIT: another theory and probably the right one is that this is the name of Flint’s grandfather and he’s quoting what the og Mr. Flint said to him before slipping into the night
Obviously, this doesn’t tell us everything or even most of what was going on between BS and TI, but the circumstances of his death do help inform us on the potentials, based on what would have gotten him to that point.
For a character that’s only mentioned in the book a few times, there sure is a lot to unpack
#black sails#treasure island#james flint#and this isn't even getting into whether ANY of treasure island is reliable information
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sorry you’re feeling so crappy 😔 i hope you feel better soon!!
if you’re feeling up to it, maybe silverflinthamiltons on a lake or beach vacation?
SILVERFLINTHAM LAKESIDE HOLIDAY PART 1 with a surprise! and another segment to follow because this is them arriving to the lake!
(this got long so most of it will be under the cut.)
***
It was summer.
Summer meant blistering asphalt and bags of trash stewing on the curb each morning. Hazy sunlight blinding the street, dark cavernous pockets of shade where the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, but the air stayed stale and suffocating all the same. It meant too many people and too much noise and parties in the park that never seemed to end, one just replacing another in an endless cycle of hedonism, and bottles of chilled wine and cheap beer sweating on the fountain walls. It meant long dinners and longer lunches, ice cream trucks and Italian ice carts on opposite corners of the street carrying on an old world rivalry. It meant golds and blues and lush greens wherever your eyes happened to fall, be it on a back alley garden or storefront window display.
Silver loved summer.
He loved the warmth and the sprawling picnics and the baring of skin and the feral energy of a child free from school amplified to suit a city of millions and the heady summer storms that shook the glittering skyline in a kind of holy cleanse. He loved the summer fruits and the sweet aperitifs and the old school white linen shirts and open fire hydrants flooding the streets and the neon lights reflecting in the puddles left behind, still evaporating in the hot night, giving the whole world an ethereal glow.
Though he had to admit it was always better spent on a beach with a frosted drink and not a goddamn thing to do. But, if a beach couldn’t be procured, a big, cool, well air conditioned house that was paid for by someone else was an excellent alternative. His sister’s condo in Chelsea for instance was an excellent place to waste away a summer on parties and sun bathing and a private pool that no one else seemed to have the time to use. He had spent several summers with Max that way, even once the Rangers had become part of the picture, if Silver was on the east coast for the summer, he would drop in and waste away a while.
Now though, it looked like summers were going to be spent in Brooklyn, in the big cool townhouse that Thomas had paid for, with the truly miraculously internal air con that was always kept at a balmy 65 degrees from May to October, and with very little to do outside of whatever suited his fancy on any given day. Oh and sex, a lot of sex. This would be the first summer in a very long time where he could not only allow himself a libido, but he could also satiate it.
Silver was thoroughly content with the new circumstances.
He was less content however, with how the summer months, or maybe just the summer months in the city, seemed to bring out the worst in people as frequently as it did the best.
Flint, for example, did not handle summers as well as Silver did. In part it was due to the heat and the sun and the weird smells coming off the steamy side walks, and Silver understood Flint’s frustration with all that, he truly did. But summer also meant more tourists and more people going out for a good time, more people starting brawls in bars and fights in the street and parties spilling over from one bar to the next, or worse packs of bigots making the rounds and harassing whomever they find, everything the working class service folks of the city dreaded- in short, Flint’s stress levels seemed to just rise with the temperature. And considering an average day in July might easily crack 100, Silver was starting to get a tad worried.
“Is it like this every summer?” Silver had asked one Friday morning in June.
The kitchen was soft with the morning sunlight, Thomas in his silk night shirt and robe as he perused the menu for the cafe on the corner, Silver fixing them each an espresso.
“To a point yes. You know how James is about control,” Thomas said with a fond smile, “when he’s at his best he can combat every threat to his sovereignty without so much as flinching. But the summer gets to him, makes him a bit of a wolf in a cage, so to speak.”
“Was he worse in Manhattan?” the buildings sometimes reminded Silver of a cell block, the slivers of sunlight cutting through as hot as cattle prods.
“Much. Hal has tried talking him into not working as much in the summer, but you know how he is, can’t be told anything once he’s got his mind made up. Not to mention he’s never been good at simply existing. There always has to be purpose in it, work to be done, fields to plow and what not.”
Silver huffed a laugh and brought Thomas’ espresso over, feeling a sense of warmth at the notion that he and Thomas were able to share this, to share flint and all his eccentricities.
“I’m sure a man as clever as you thought of some way to keep his blood pressure down, hm?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas took the espresso cup without looking away from the menu. He set it aside and pulled Silver in, kissing him sweetly in thanks. Ah, that was also a nice thing to share with Thomas, Silver reminded himself.
“Oh I came up with a few ideas, pet. How about we order breakfast, and I’ll tell you about them.”
By Friday, the three of them were packed into Flint’s old Range Rover heading upstate for two weeks of holiday bliss. It had taken multiple phone calls to Gates to make sure the bar would in fact be alright while Flint was gone and to make sure he barred Flint from being within a dozen yards of The Walrus once it closed on Thursday night. It had also taken coaxing, convincing, bartering, and eventually outright bribery with sex to get Flint to stop scowling about the idea of being away from his “ship” for longer than a weekend. There had been other phone calls as well, placed by Thomas in the early hours of the morning when he thought he was the only one awake. When asked about them he just waved the questions away with a mild, “oh just a little extra surprise for James thats all” and Silver did his best to trust him.
It was a five hour drive from the house in Brooklyn to the house on Lake Cayuga that Thomas had purchased during his recovery, to he and Flint would have a quiet place to heal and make up for lost time without the strain of the city grating on them. Silver had never been upstate, his various clients had always preferred houses in the Hamptons, but from the photos it was a cozy little cottage style house right on the shore, a couple bedrooms, an airy kitchen, lush garden, and a private pier that stretched out into the lake. There was also apparently a boat, a little hybrid sailboat of polished wood and deep blue paint, the name Ariel written in careful golden script. Silver wanted to ask whether Flint had bought it or built it, because he was the kind of high strung man to just build a boat from scratch instead of buying one or scheduling extra therapy. But the scowl on his face as they tucked the suitcases into the trunk told him it wasn’t worth the teasing. Not yet anyway.
Flint insisted on driving the whole five hours himself, scowling silently behind the wheel as he drove them through miles of lush farmland, leaving Thomas and Silver to chat about what they might do once they get settled in. There was plenty of hiking, though Thomas was worried the gorges might be tricky for Silver’s regular prosthetic, ample water falls and countless parks to explore. Lots of quaint small towns with seafood shacks and local fare and more wineries than even Thomas knew what to do with. And of course, most importantly, there was the lake.
Flint kept his silence till the last hour of the ride, the scowl firmly set on his jaw. Silver and Thomas had switched seats so Thomas could stretch out and nap in the back seats, leaving Silver to try and coax a smile out of his partner. Not that he had to do much. As the car climbed yet another rolling hill, Silver watched the horizon, his hand in Flint’s, trying to figure out whether the deep blue streak that had suddenly appeared was a dark patch of sky.
It wasn’t, for the record.
Silver frowned and turned to Flint, planning to ask if it was the lake and exactly how big was said lake- but the question died well before he could even open his mouth.
The scowl was gone, dropped from Flint’s face and replaced by the softest look of wonder Silver had ever seen on the man, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making his mustache twitch. It was as if something had hooked its line into Flint’s chest and was slowly reeling him in, his whole body sitting straighter, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out until he was leaning into the steering wheel. His hand even held tighter to Silver’s, an unconscious need to keep himself tethered maybe, or to keep Silver close.
“Is that the lake?” Silver managed to ask with a soft smile of his own.
“Yeah. We’ll be at the cabin in half an hour.”
They got there in twenty minutes, not that anyone was actually counting.
The lake stretched out before them, a sea of deep blues and aquamarines, glittering with the hot late June sunlight that danced across it’s surface. It’s shores were patched with wildflowers and thick thatches of wood, little clusters of cabins and boat houses, who’s owners were out skipping across the surface like dragon flies on their small boats and kayaks. The afternoon air was hazy and sweet, the whole scene a postcard from the mythical summers of memory that everyone aspired to, bird song and the low hum of the radio escorting them along the final stretch of route 90. Flint pulled them down a narrow side road, passing a few comfortably sized homes with ample space between them, until they reached the dead end of the street, and the little cottage Silver had seen in the photos, with the shadow of the pier dark across the water, and the Ariel waiting like a loyal dog in her berth.
“Oh good,” Thomas said with a yawn, finally pulling himself back into a sitting position and stretching, as Flint pulled the car into the drive alongside what looked like a rental car. “I was starting to think we were lost.”
Silver looked back at him, ready to tease about old men and naps, but Thomas was looking down at his phone, his fingers quickly switching on the stop watch. “Thomas what-”
The range rover lurched to a sudden stop as Flint hit the brakes and Silver had to cling to the seat to keep himself upright. Thomas seemed completely unfazed, draped across the back seat in his half buttoned linen shirt and designer sunglasses, watching with an air of fond expectation as Flint threw on the parking brake and booked it from the car, leaving the engine running.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Silver asked.
Thomas laughed and reached around the driver’s seat to shut the car off. “Exactly what I expected him to do, though I’ll admit I expected him to at least properly stop the car first.”
“What? Thomas- oh my god he’s going in the lake?” Silver asked, watching as Flint cleared the back fence and striped off his shirt, leaving it on the lawn as he kept moving towards the pier. His boots, socks, and jeans followed, barely breaking his quick stride to strip them off.
“Last time it took him a whole ten minutes to get into the water,” Thomas said, helping Silver, who was too busy staring in shock at the sight of his stern and stoic partner racing across the back patio like a child, from the car. “He might clear five minutes this time.”
A few more quick strides and Flint dove from the end of the pier, breaking the surface of the lake with a thunderous sound and disappearing into the blue.
“He’s in the lake,” Silver said.
Thomas hooked their arms together, the two of them walking leisurely across the lawn. “Every visit, the first thing he does is go to the water. It’s even more dramatic when it’s the ocean, maybe I’ll book us a house on the coast next month.”
“More dramatic than stripping down to his boxers in the back yard?” he asked.
The back lawn of the house was a mix of a large patio and and a short green, with a fire pit and a grill, a small dining table and some cozy chairs, and what silver hoped was a hot tub. A woman was stretched out on one of the long beach chairs in a deep green bikini, her dark hair cut short and a magazine across her lap, though she was watching the water, where Flint had just resurfaced for a moment before diving again.
“Miranda?” Silver called, aware that Thomas was beaming behind him but not at all surprised to see his ex wife. That explained the phone calls, and the rental car out front.
“I believe our husband is in the lake my dears,” Miranda called with a laugh, getting up to come greet them. “God he’s like a little boy at a swimming hole.”
“I’d ask how you got here but that seems almost silly,” Silver said, letting her pull him into a tight hug. They had taken to each other from the first, which had left Thomas and Flint a little uneasy. Miranda’s humor matched his, her wit sharp and familiar, and Silver had learned very quickly why Flint and Thomas were both still in love with her. He wasn’t far from it himself.
“Thomas called, said James needed an intervention,” She said, letting him go to kiss Thomas hello and hug him tight. “I’m on break from teaching this summer and the fall concert season hasn’t started yet, could I come out and join you for a couple weeks? Which was a silly question, I was buying a ticket the moment he suggested it.”
Thomas kissed the top of her head, smiling brightly. “I had hoped you might be his surprise before he jumped in the lake, I’m sorry my dear.”
Silver watched them, feeling a bit dizzy. They were were a perfect pair, Miranda dark and elegant under Thomas’ arm, the cool dusk sky to Thomas’ golden hour sun.
“Don’t be, I’ll go down to him, maybe join him in the water for a bit.” She kissed his cheek, then Silver’s. “There’s some snacks laid out in the kitchen and dinner will be delivered in a couple hours, why don’t you get the bags inside and then come join us. Maybe we can even take Ariel out before dinner.”
“Oh now there’s an idea,” Thomas agreed, moving to go back and fetch the bags from the car. “Tell our husband we’ll join you in a moment. If you can manage to get him up for air.”
Miranda laughed, a bright sunny sound that always reminded Silver of how she played piano, and made her way down to the pier. He watched as she sat down on the edge of the pier, as the surface of the water broke and Flint emerged, staring up at her in shock. Silver heard her laughing, saw her reach out and watched as Flint reached up and pulled her into the lake with a joyful shout of her name. They were lost for a moment to the water, kicking up waves as Flint held her tight and danced them around, clumsy and free. Behind him Silver could hear Thomas laughing, felt his hand as it came to rest warm and sure on his lower back, pulling him in close, as he said something about wishing they’d gotten that on film.
For Silver, it was one of those moments where suddenly he remembered what all those old love songs were written about. He understood it.
And it was finally his.
#my fic#black sails modern au#silverflinthamilton#jamie's fic prompt fills#@halewoods#john silver#james flint#thomas hamilton#miranda hamilton#i truly love this one and am already working on the next segment which will i hope be smutty as well as soft and sappy
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Okay so I finished watching black sails a few days ago and I’ve spent the last few days reading other metas and posts and interviews about Flint & Silver to gather my thoughts (thots, if you will) and these are the conclusions I have come to:
John Silver and James Flint have the most interesting and well written dynamic ives ever seen between two characters. I am endlessly fascinated by their relationship. Because it’s so unique and complex and I can’t think of any other relationship between two men on screen that even gets close to being on their level, that level of intimacy and their DIALOGUE????? especially in season four????? there is no daylight between us???? i have made myself transparent to you????? you already know me in all the ways that’s relevant???? fuck me up dude!!!!!
All of that being said, I don’t like… ship them. At least not in the conventional way of shipping. I don’t see them as boyfriends or husbands or even as romantically involved. Like I said I LOVE their dynamic and I am fascinated with the complexities of it, and I really and truly think that they loved each other deeply, but to me the idea of them being like in an explicit, canon relationship sort of... cheapens it?
Especially if we’re talking about seasons 1-3 flint & silver. To me, saying that they were romantically involved during that time period sort of misses the point of their build up. Because they didn’t even really like each other then. They were necessary evils in each other’s stories. ESPECIALLY in seasons 1 & 2, they weren’t friends! They were work place acquaintances who needed each other to survive. And remember Silver’s whole season three arc of “I think flint controls the weather”???? Lmaooo the idea that they were romantically involved at that time, to me, almost does a disservice to their characters and the journey that they took to get to where they were in the fourth season.
Because I don’t think that they truly started to even be friends until that night around the fire. When Silver asked in who’s name they were fighting the war and Flint told the truth about his past. When Flint made himself transparent and vulnerable to Silver, and they openly discussed their partnership. When they came to a mutual understanding of each other, when they felt the possibility of the future together, that is when they really and truly emotionally connected and became more than work place acquaintances, became even more than just casual friends.
But I still don’t think that they were like, together together in season four.
Do I think there were extremely high levels of homoeroticism? also-fucking-lutely. But I don’t think they were romantically involved. For many reasons.
I think that the last two episodes of the series do not work if they did not love each other. The last two episodes are not effective if there is not something deeper there, if there isn’t something to lose when they fall apart. Like when Billy and Silver fall apart? I was like aww they were friends. :( and that’s it. When Silver and Flint fell apart? I sobbed my fucking eyes out. Would I have been as destroyed by Silver’s betrayal if I didn’t truly believe that these two men had a deep and profound relationship, that they needed each other and completed each other? Lmao no! No I wouldn’t have. If Flint didn’t love Silver, he wouldn’t have taught him sword fighting, he wouldn’t have shot Dooley, he wouldn’t have looked so deeply crushed when Silver raised the gun. Because the look on his face? When that happens? That is heartbreak, pure and simple.
BUT. I ALSO think that the last two episodes of the series do not work if that love is explicit and defined. I do not think it works if Silver is fully aware of that love. Because I don’t think he is. I think he has found himself closer and closer to Flint, committing himself to Flint, becoming the other half of Flint, and….. doesn’t quite realize how homoerotic it is lmao. Because he has Madi! And Silver has never really had someone to be close to before, so I honestly don’t believe that Silver was aware how how Homo(TM) the whole thing was with Flint, at least not consciously, at least not out loud. And I say this because there is a very important moment in the finale that doesn’t work if their relationship is defined and official or romantic in any way.
It’s when Flint says “This will all have been for nothing. We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories. Distorted to fit into their narrative. Until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children,” That is his last card to play. That, to me, is the THESIS of the series, that moment is what they have been building up to for four seasons, that is Flint’s driving force as a person. And Silver says: “I don’t care,”
That moment is reliant on Silver not understanding the queer implications behind what Flint said. That moment is reliant on Silver being a man who has never experienced the life ruining homophobia that Flint has experienced. That moment is reliant on Silver genuinely not caring, it is reliant on the complete disconnect from Flint in that moment, and if the two of them had been in a defined relationship at the moment, I wouldn’t have bought it. And it is heartbreaking and tragic because Silver DOESN’T get it. He doesn’t! He does not know what it means to fear how the world will see you for who you fundamentally are, fear how mothers will tell their children about you, fear how your story will be told, and I do not buy that moment if Silver is aware of his own queerness. Maybe other characters in other stories, I might, but Silver, self serving and self saving Silver, to not care? He has to genuinely NOT care.
I’ve mentioned before in other posts that watching Silver and Flint’s story play out is a lot like watching Romeo and Juliet, that you know that their story will end in tragedy, but you watch it unfold anyway. But there’s another reason I think they parallel the star crossed lovers. And I think the moral of Romeo & Juliet (it’s my favorite play step up and fight me) is not that the young lovers were stupid and reckless, but the moral is that they might have lived if not for the outside forces trying to drive them apart. Romeo and Juliet is about how the toxic and warring world in which they lived wasn’t sustainable for their love, that they were driven to their deaths by parents who didn’t realize the harm they were inflicting upon their children.
I digress but the POINT being that it is outside forces that drove the two of them apart. (Get Wreked, Billy) The toxic and warring world in which they lived wasn’t sustainable for their partnership. You can see it best in 4x09 when the flashbacks of the two of them alone on the beach are funny and tender and vulnerable and open between the two of them, and present day where Silver’s trying to get Flint a little bit KILLED and you can see how much things have changed between them since that day on the beach.
How might have things changed in another direction if they hadn’t been driven apart? Because like I said earlier, Silver and Flint’s relationship was a JOURNEY, it didn’t happen overnight. And I can’t help but feel like they were only at the beginning of their relationship when they fell apart and that is another tragedy, the what if? of it all. How might their relationship have changed and gotten even deeper if they hadn’t been pushed apart? What hadn’t been explored between them, what was still left unsaid when Silver raised his gun at Flint? So that’s ANOTHER reason I don’t think they were like ~together~ because there is tragedy is losing something you don’t have, that you might have had. Losing something that you don’t know what it could have become and that breaks my heart because it feels like they had only JUST begun and then they were ending in the most heartbreaking and tragic way.
Also to be honest, the main reason that I love Them is because I’m a slut for tragedy, and knowing that something is going to have a sad ending but rooting for them anyway. Romeo and Juliet, the Hunchback of Notre Dame musical, Hadestown, the Song of Achilles, They Both Die at The End, even rewatching Brokeback Mountain, you get it. Tell me that they aren’t going to make it in the end and then let me watch them fall in love anyway. Let me watch them grow to love each other knowing that they’re going to end in tragedy. I should be sobbing on the floor by the end of it, I WANT to be sobbing on the floor by the end of it. That’s my shit. It is literally my favorite type of story. fuck me UP
So those are my Thots (TM) about Flint & Silver. They have one of the most well written relationships I’ve ever seen on screen and I am endlessly fascinated by them. I don’t like romantically ship them because I think it’s too complicated to reduce their relationship to “they’re dating“ when it is their journey from reluctant work place acquaintances to “It’s hard to know where one began and the other ended” that is so incredible. But I do think there is a deep and profound love between them and the finale doesn’t WORK unless they love each other, but it also has to be somewhat unspoken for it to work, too. Because I don’t think Silver was aware of his own queerness and I think he has to actively not understand the queerness of Flint’s fight in order to do what he does otherwise I wouldn’t buy it. And I think that they were only at the beginning of their partnership, and I wonder where it could have gone if they hadn’t been ripped apart. Theirs is a tragedy of losing someone you love and losing something that isn’t easily defined, losing something that could have been. And their tragedy does not work if they didn’t have something to lose.
#lesbianlaynie#laynie's thots#silverflint#black sails#larose watches black sails#bs meta#black sails meta#john silver#james flint#long john silver#captain flint#laynie's essays#flintsilver#for alex to read
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Landfall (Black Sails, M, 1/2)
Y’all had to have known this was coming 😈 I am utterly appalled at the lack of Black Sails recognition. So, to remedy that, have some Sick!Flint. If you have not watched Black Sails, watch it. I purposefully avoided spoiling anything major in this fic because it is truly the best show I have ever had the pleasure to watch and I do not want to spoil that for anyone. If you want queer characters, ships, pirates, badass women, ships (did I mention those already?) and show writing that feels like the best of literature, watch this show. That said, if you have seen it, this takes place before the show starts, when Captain Flint is building his image as the fearsome pirate he is when we meet him.
This was actually incredibly hard to write, both because I felt such an intense pressure to do these wonderful characters justice and because Flint is just an impermeable wall. Like this man could just take a cannonball to the face and not bat an eye. So I tried my best to stay in character and still let him suffer a bit :) Onwards! Hopefully a bit more sneezing in the next part.
They had made landfall in Nassau in the evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The storm clouds that had then been rolling into the harbor quickly from the interior of the island were now unleashing a torrential downpour upon Captain Flint as he urged his horse faster inland through the mud. It had taken them long into the night, well after the rain had begun to unload all the cargo they had taken, and as such he was as soaked as though pulled from the ocean. Though being so wet would doubtless not do well for the headcold he was brewing, neither would spending the night at the Guthrie’s tavern do well for his headache.
When he arrived at Miranda’s home, he tied up his horse in the stable and limped into the house, his leg aching from the ride or the fight for the ship or the weather or God knows what else. The wind blew the door shut with a loud crash behind him. Flint stood for a moment, water dripping from him like a personal rainstorm, breathing heavily and not altogether successfully keeping himself from coughing. In the hearth, a dying fire cast its dim light on the room. He hung his coat, more wet rag now than anything, beside the door, when he heard a shuffling from the bedroom.
Miranda emerged in her nightgown, her hair mussed slightly from its updo in sleep. She smiled at him but Flint, upon seeing her hands empty, did not return it.
“Where’s the pistol I gave you?” he growled. “To protect yourself.”
Turning her back to him, Miranda went to stoke the fire up higher. “I left it behind, seeing as though I know there is only one man mad enough to ride out and barge in my door at this hour and in this weather. Thank you, by the way. For the puddle.”
Miranda pulled a stool out in front of the hearth and Flint sank into it, the wood creaking as his weight melted into it. “Homecoming gift,” he gritted out.
“There’s blood in it.”
“Eh?”
“In the puddle. Mixed with the water.”
“My leg, probably. Haven’t really had the chance to look at it yet.” He spared a glance at his thigh; the light was low, coming only from the fire, but he thought he could make out a glisten of red somewhere along the sodden black fabric of his trousers, as well as a tear. He coughed to clear his throat. “There’s a book. In my cloak. Probably soaked through, but it’s there. Erasmus.”
“Good that you had the time and the sense to raid a bookshelf.” Flint picked up on the unspoken and not tend to your leg and he did not care for the accusation of it, but he did not rise to the bait, simply too exhausted to do so. His head and limbs ached, and now that the promise of a hearth and true dryness was so near he could scarcely stand the wet scratch of his clothes against his skin.
Miranda disappeared to the kitchen, no doubt to boil water and prepare a salve to clean his wound. They had fallen into this rhythm, such that Flint himself could recognize which cloths and jars she pulled down based only on the direction of her footsteps and the squeaking of the cabinets. The farthest to the left of the stove was the highest pitched and it was there she kept her lavender soap which, for reasons unclear, she used only on him. He heard her open it. It would be wasted on him tonight, not that it ever wasn’t, for he was too full of cold to consider smelling it.
He gave three shuddering sneezes, the wetness of his hair snaking around his temples chilling him further. Briefly he considered going to his coat to retrieve his handkerchief, soaked as it no doubt was, but when he looked up he saw Miranda re-enter, holding a platter full of bowls and bandages to treat him, and he knew he would get a row for getting up again to bleed more on her floor.
“Dutch merchant ship with a hold full of spices and tobacco,” he told her as she set the tray down with a soft clang on the coffee table beside where he sat. She lit a candle “Enough to keep the men satisfied for a while.”
“How long is that?”
“Two months at least. Enough for us to ride out the worst of the winter storms on la--Careful!” Flint jerked back as Miranda pulled at the tear in his trouser leg, ripping it open to expose the gash on his thigh.
“Hush, they’ll have to be sewn up again, anyway.”
“At this rate, they’ll have to be replaced!”
Miranda sighed as she took in the extent of the injury, fresh blood gleaming deeply in the candlelight, then gave an airy chuckle. There was a sadness nestled deeply within it, almost imperceptible, that hurt Flint far more than the wound did. “I suppose I should have pegged you as a man who cared more for his clothing than for himself.”
Flint talked around that sadness, as they always did. “Says the woman who is more worried about bloodstains on her floor than what put them there. I think I could come in without a leg and you’d be particular about what I bled on.”
Miranda smiled, almost to herself, as she wet a cloth in the bowl of soapy water and wrung it out, before placing it on Flint’s leg. “If you had a home to clean and take care of, you’d be particular as well.”
They fell silent after that, the only sounds being the crackle of the fire and the melodic repetition of Miranda dunking the cloth in the bowl, the droplets pittering as she wrung it out, the soft squish as she pressed cloth gently to his wound. It was not unlike the cadence of a ship, the rushing waves and heaving creaks, and Flint lost himself in it, the sting of the soap as she scrubbed the only thing keeping him from drifting to sleep.
His sniffling grew more insistent as the fragrance of the soap loosened his congestion. He sneezed again, twice, jerking away from Miranda as she was wrapping a bandage around his thigh.
“You’ve picked up a cold, too, on your voyage,” she observed, not pausing her pressure on the wound as she continued to wrap it.
“It’s nothing.”
“Well, yes, compared to the gash on your leg a great number of things are nothing.” Her hands paused in tying the bandage, holding the pressure there as she looked up at him, the question unsaid burning like an ember behind her eyes. In London, she would have asked—she had asked when he had come around with a split lip from a bar fight or a bruise from his training—but since they had come to Nassau there were a great many questions she had stopped asking.
Flint met her eyes for the briefest of moments. She would not ask how he had come by this latest set of injuries, but she knew enough to fill the gaps, perhaps even enough to construct a story close to the truth. She was a smart, smart woman and Flint did not deserve her.
Her voice softened as she dropped her gaze, wiping away with a clean cloth the blood that had already seeped around the edges of the bandage. “Please, try to take care of yourself a bit, James.”
Flint made a sound in his throat, an attempt at a grunt or a scoff perhaps, but it caught and turned to a rough cough. Miranda said nothing, but set to gathering the bloody cloths and filthy bowls back on the tray. The sight of the blood, the dirt of his world infiltrating and infecting hers, made his chest burn in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.
Miranda hesitated and cupped his cheek briefly before picking up the tray, bidding him look at her. The firelight flicked across her eyes. “Allow me to do what I can. I know there are…” She broke their gaze for a moment and swallowed. “Limits to what I can do, what I can understand, but please. Let me be here for you.”
Flint smoothed a stray piece of her hair back behind her ear and studied her a moment, beholding with a sinking stomach the lines on her face, lines that had been from ceaseless smiles back in London turned lines sour with stress here in Nassau. He owed this to her, owed her the world after what he had put her through.
“I only mean you needn’t trouble yourself over this,” he said. “Over me, over a headcold, over a cut on my leg. It’s nothing that I haven’t experienced before and I’ve borne it--”
“The men aren’t here to see you,” Miranda said abruptly, and damn her for always knowing his mind even when Flint scarcely knew it himself. She carried on, her voice softening. “Any weakness you think you might display, they are not here to see it. There’s no need to be Captain Flint in this house.”
With that she turned back for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that she would bring Flint a towel to dry himself while she made up the spare bed. Flint coughed again, knowing that if he had had the energy to follow his instinct he would have yelled at her for some senseless reason, perhaps for the sin of cutting through to the core of the very armor of ferocity he was trying to build for himself. Shame burned in his belly, and he took a small measure of comfort in the throb of his injury and the fire in his throat, as a twisted form of penance or punishment. He had become an angry man since leaving London. He had always been subject to passion, to being overcome, to loss of control. The accursed Admiral Hennessey had even observed as much. But the raw permanence of his anger, burrowing deep within him and taking up hold like a parasite, was something altogether new and different. In quiet moments such as this, he loathed himself for it.
Miranda returned to him with a towel and a handkerchief before departing to the bedroom. Flint made judicious use of both the items, his sneezing assaulting him with a vengeance as he became dry, as if to punish him for having gotten so wet in the first place. He had been ill all manner of times and in all manner of places: belowdecks in the Navy, at port, on land, even once prior on the Walrus. And this present headcold of his, while decidedly uncomfortable and a nuisance as all headcolds are, certainly ranked among the least of these times. Were he alone or at sea, he would have treated it as he treated all minor ailments: by simply going about his business as usual, perhaps indulging in a bit of rum to take the edge off the soreness in his throat. But, it was undeniably relaxing, freeing even, to know that he would sleep in a bed tonight and not have to wake to maps and ropes and captaincy in the morning. Flint felt his shoulders fall at the realization, felt the muscles in his jaw unclench, until the strain of sailing and fighting to take the Dutch caravel was as much in the background as the soft sputtering of the fire in the hearth.
His eyes slipped shut, and perhaps he had even fallen asleep briefly sitting up, when Miranda shook his shoulder gently. She nodded at him and he nodded back, feeling stupid and disoriented with fatigue. Doubtless sensing this, she led him by the arm to the spare bedroom that may as well become his as much as his own cabin at sea.
“I’ve left you an old nightshirt, in the drawers.”
Flint was overcome by a fit of sneezing and coughed a bit when he had finished, prompting Miranda to pat the pillow and add, “And handkerchiefs, tucked underneath.”
She turned to leave but he caught her by the wrist and brought her fingers to his lips. They were warm, and even through his congestion he could smell the lavender soap upon them. “Thank you,” he rasped. For everything. If ever there were a time for her to read his mind, it was now.
Miranda leaned forward and placed a ghost-light kiss on his cheek. “Try not to get too much blood on my sheets. It is absolutely beastly to get out.”
She left him, then, with a smile, and Flint gave one of his own to the empty room before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep almost instantly, uncaring of damp clothes or soaked bandages or words he should have said but lacked the courage to voice.
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The Howl of the Moon - Remus Lupin
Summary:
After a terrible accident in the battle at the Ministry in 1995, Hermione Granger wins a one-way ticket to the past. Unable to go back to his time, his only chance for survival is to adapt to the late 70s and get on with his life, interfering as little as possible so that the future does not fall apart.
However, everything goes downhill when Remus John Lupine starts to notice too much the new girl who clearly wanted to go unnoticed by Hogwarts.
Chapters: Prolog | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
Warnings: mature
4.The one of the birthday
Anyway, March had arrived!
It was less than three months to the end of school, but it also meant that nearly a month had passed since the Valentine's Day disaster. I mean, disaster in parts and just for a few people, as James and Lily couldn't be happier in their passionate bubble, not to mention the redhead wouldn't give up on the idea that Remus and Granger were a potential couple, they couldn't be still, but if it were up to her the four would soon have a double date! It had taken at least four days for Hermione to speak fearlessly to Remus again, and at least a week for Remus to stop treating Lilly with vengeful indifference, which unfortunately for them had only reinforced the absurd idea of a possible crush even further. in Lily's head.
So the ninth of March had arrived and with it the eighteen years of Remus! Unfortunately, it fell on the first day of the full moon, but luckily they would have a total eclipse that night, which meant…
- PARTY AT THE SHRIEKING SHACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A night just among the marauders, completely free of a curious and violent werewolf breaking free and running across the school grounds. Despite loathing the lunar cycle, Remus Lupine loved eclipses. When an eclipse was in the sky, Moony fell asleep inside him practically disappearing, making the wizard feel completely human - if only for a few hours.
No naughty whispers, no chocolate stuff, and no sharp senses!
Just him, a somewhat shy, scarred teenager who allowed himself to live a little.
Although the party was only later, none of them had shown up for dinner in the great hall that night - which in itself had been reason enough to make Minerva's hair stand on end. Everyone knows that professors love to gossip about students' lives and this was no different at Hogwarts, so of course Professor McGonagall had noticed the closeness between Jean and Remus during tutoring. So with the excuse of asking Miss Granger to try to stop any potential madness the marauders were planning, he called the student into his office as soon as she had finished her dinner:
- Oh, is today his birthday?
- Naturally, that's why I imagine he and his roommates are up to it like a Bunch of Silly Baboons.
Hermione, for her part, couldn't hide her laughter, she still remembered the dance lessons she had taken in fourth year for the Winter Ball where Minerva had made that same criticism of the Gryffindor students. So the girl wondered if the marauders had been the first to hear such endearing adjectives. The older witch seeing the student's laugh also smiled.
- I see that you have become very close to Mr. Lupin, a fine boy, I must say.
- Teacher, I'm not for that much… We are a good pair… Working! I mean, we work well together, in monitoring! - She replied embarrassed, wanting to run away from the subject as she was running from Lilian.
- Honey, don't waste the opportunities that Cupid presents to you. - And suddenly the teacher's eyes became very melancholy and hurt. - I once met a young witch as promising as you. Extremely intelligent and dedicated to studies. She met a guy who shared her same sense of humor, he was the only one who could debate as fiercely and passionately as she… Before the girl knew he was on his knees proposing marriage and she accepted. The teacher's melancholy smile was more than enough for Hermione to know that it wasn't just any student's story she was telling.
- Teacher despite whatever my heart dares to feel. And I don't say he feels anything about the matter of Mr Lupcough cough.” He coughed uncomfortable with everything the teacher was inferring. - Well what I mean is that under the circumstances in which I find myself… The way I came here. I couldn't… I simply wouldn't dare. I mean, it's too risky!
- And what I mean, Jean is that I don't want that story to repeat itself. Like you, she had a thousand and one very plausible and rational reasons to break off the engagement what she did. However, when she realized that as far as the heart, love, or even mere affection and camaraderie were concerned, it was not rationality that should have been heard, it was too late!
Hermione didn't know how to respond, despite all her embarrassment with Lily on Valentine's Day she had never looked at Remus in that way! Yes they were good friends, got along well together and could talk about anything for hours and hours. Of course she found his shy way cute in an adorable way like a needy pet, and she sure enjoyed Lupine's chocolate addiction, but she never looked at him as anything other than a housemate. By Merlin, she often had to remember that he wasn't her teacher but a teenager like her! But love, affection?
Seeing that the student was clearly confused, Minerva turned away from the subject and went back to inquiring about the possible pranks the Gryffindor quartet might be planning. But if even Jean didn't know what they were up to, McGonagall could only hope that Bunch of Silly Baboons Baboons didn't do any damage to her school! Dismissing the student right away, stating that she needed to correct some parchments for the next transfiguration class for sophomores.
Hermione, still shaken by the previous conversation, left, but soon stopped at the door, turning hesitantly towards the teacher.
- Teacher… If I may ask. What happened to your student and the guy she turned down?
- Naturally they went their separate ways. I understand she has taken on an important position in the ministry of magic. And he... found a new someone to love...
- I… I'm sorry teacher.
- Me too, Jean, but it's late now. Go back to the dorm if I won't be forced to give you detention. - The teacher joked, but Hermione couldn't help but hear the melancholy tone in the witch's words.
* * *
Contrary to what Minerva thought, the only damage the quartet would do would be to their own bodies. Come on, it was Lupine's birthday and more than that it was his night of sobriety about the wolf that shared his body! It was obvious that they would get drunk until tomorrow!
The four met on the second floor of the screaming house near eight-thirty at night, with them having prepared a nice little party for their werewolf friend: lots of fire whiskey, a chocolate cake, butterbeer, thousands of sweets from Fingers of Honey not to mention a mini feast smuggled straight from the kitchen of Hogwarts, after all the house elves adored James and Sirius. And of course a small bottle of water - since Peter liked to hydrate between a glass and another - the only sensible one in the group that night. All three were moved by the birthday boy's happiness, noticing how the daily weight had disappeared from Remus' back, being ridiculously lighter.
- And what are we waiting for? - With that sentence James started the night's celebrations.
Drinks over there, cakes over here when they saw it, it was past ten at night and everyone was irrevocably drunk. It had been at least six glasses of whiskey for Sirius, with Remus finishing up his fifth - which was already more than a little more than ideas after three bottles of butterbeer.
- Does Audrey know the reason for her disappearance, Peter? - James asked as he chewed on a chicken leg.
- Just I was celebrating the birthday of one of you.
Audrey Flint was the Slytherin who had sent Peter the little Valentine's card, and who had surprisingly been dating her ever since.
- Remus, even Peter has a girlfriend. When are you going to get one? You know I don't care about gender as long as he or she knows that marauders are their priority! - Sirius asked, nudging the werewolf beside him.
"Lily said it won't be long before he and Granger assume something." - James delivered his girlfriend.
- That's not it! Jean and I are just... friends? - Remus asked embarrassed, but at the mention of Jean rather than the clear questioning of his partner preferences. The truth is, Lupine didn't know if he was in the position of Granger's friends or colleagues at that point in the championship. The relationship was weird since Valentine's Day, at times it seemed that nothing had changed while at others Moony was a real busybody!
- If even that you know what they are. It's definitely lost!
- If they're not friends they can definitely be something else. - Peter nudged, liking the way Remus was starting to turn red and bewildered.
"The way you treated Lily after Valentine's Day just shows how much you're into her, Remus." - James insisted.
- No, no, NO! - Remus managed to deny it. - You got it all wrong! Jean and I would never work, you know I can't….
- I bet you're denying it like that because you don't know how to kiss. - Peter threw more wood into the fire.
- Of course I know how to kiss! - Remus was insulted.
That was partly true, as she'd had her first kiss two years earlier, also in an eclipse, when she'd allowed herself to experience a kiss that night. It had been at a Gryffindor party and had been no more than a smacking of lips, and since then he'd never come close to anyone else's mouth.
- A little kiss does not count as knowing how to kiss! - Sirius accused his friend, turning to him.
- And how do you expect me to learn then?! You know I don't…
Sirius didn't let his colleague finish, with a roguish grin he pulled Remus' neck towards him.
- Like this. - Whispered in his friend's ear, having fun when he saw the same shiver, approaching his body more and more.
In a second their lips were joined, with Black initiating an agitated kiss. He knew his friend had no experience, he had the vague memory in his drunken memory of Lupin describing how shameful and awkward that peck had been two years ago - so it had started slowly, but not having much patience and being clearly upset, he deepened the kiss without blinking. Then he opened his mouth hungrily, forcing his tongue against Remus' mouth, who surprisingly had given way and not only that, but was also trying to match his roommate's reckless rhythm.
After all, if it was in the rain, it was to get wet!
Mimicking Sirius' movements, Remus also held the brunet's neck possessively, intensifying the movements of his lips - adrenaline rushing through him. Their tongues tangled and wrestled and caressed, all to the sound of Peter's laughter and the shocked spit of James who had just put another glass of whiskey in his mouth when his friends began kissing furiously. It wasn't his fault he got scared and spit it all out at Peter!
But just as slowly as it started, the kiss ended.
- See if you learn and do it right with Granger. Sirius fixed his hair. - And if she doesn't want to, I'll always be here for you, monny! - He stated provocatively as he turned another glass.
- At least she won't have a beard itching. - Remus implied joining in the joke. - Can you tell me how you're still alone?
- There is no woman for me at Hogwarts. - Sirius declared, just like Xuxa Meneghel, where there were no men for her in Brazil.
* * *
All marauders were completely rotten, miserable, destroyed and finished.
All but Peter, who wisely interspersed the whiskey with generous doses of water, being the one who drank the least at the party - having a preference for chocolate cake. Sirius was down on the infirmary (he had the greatest resistance to alcohol, but even he overreacted); James was clinging to the toilet in Gryffindor, Peter was cheerful and bouncy with his Audrey, while Remus exploded with a headache. His eyes were sunken, his head seemed to be being poked by five drills as runaway ambulances pulled up to his ear - all with Moony barking furiously at being repelled last night by the "unnatural and evil" eclipse (words of the Wolf).
At least her swollen system from Moony's presence had minimized the seasickness effects, but the migraine remained like a sledgehammer on an anvil.
A bad mood had irrevocably seized Lupin. From the first dawn of the day Remus was IM-PRA-TI-Cable, being almost the human and rabid version of Moony, threatening to stupefy the next one who made noise in front of him. At least in the morning, since after lunch the sobriety potions began to take effect, turning him once again into a Pomeranian lulu and no longer a rabid pinscher.
At least that afternoon he could rest peacefully, as no one even went to the prefects! His plan was a quiet, undisturbed nap!
"You know, you might as well practice those licks with Jean, instead of pretending to be lazy" - Moony spoke like someone who didn't want anything when they were alone, going to the prefect.
- Licks…? - Remus was confused.
But Moony was prepared for that, immediately projecting memories of the night before - causing Remus to trip over his own feet at the sight and feel of Sirius' mouth and beard against his face.
THEY HAD DONE WHAT?!
“Nothing against what you prefer, but I think Jean more…. intriguing"
- Remus? Is everything OK? - Hermione asked after noticing the pale state that the ex-teacher arrived in the transfiguration room.
And it was when Remus' eyes focused on the girl that his face went up in flames, still moved by Moony's suggestion. THAT MEDDING WOLF!
"Just slightly drunk…" He replied, crawling to his seat, sitting down comfortably while putting his backpack as a pillow.
- Drunk?! I don't think Minerva was counting on it! - She laughed.
- Are you her new spy, Jean? Before it was Lily who was our probation officer. Befriended me just to watch over James and Sirius? - Remus joked, settling into his wallet.
- I don't know if that was her real intention, but it felt like it to me last night when she called me in her office to talk about... How did she say? Ah yes, "silly baboons babbling in a pack"!.
- There is! Professor Minerva has always been the most creative at Hogwarts! - The witcher laughed, soon regretting it when his head began to throb again and he moaned in discontent.
- What made you drunk so far?
- I had a birthday.
- Congratulations? Hermione asked, undecided by the deplorable state of the boy beside her.
He nodded gratefully, then tucked his head back into his backpack.
- Thanks, but would you mind holding the butts without me today? I put up with all day waiting for that nap.
Hermione just nodded, patting her light brown hair in congratulation, not seeing Moony squirm happily in the mind of Remus, a real needy puppy.
However, just that day, a living being appeared at the monitor in search of clearing up his doubts about the last transfiguration class of the seventh year, regretting it the moment he saw who was the monitor of his class.
Severus Snape would not stoop to the point of asking one of the marauders what things, no matter how trivial! Even though the rascal in question was almost drooling over his backpack by now.
- Can I help you? Hermione asked, noticing Snape's intention to turn around and leave.
- Do you know the content of the seventh year or just this wolf project? - Asked mockingly as he indicated with his chin the Gryffindor passed out.
- You'd be surprised what I know. - Retorted defiantly. She had almost changed her mind when Severus implied knowing that Remus was a wolf, but quickly remembered that he had almost died because of Remus, or rather because of Sirius who played a more than unfortunate prank on the Slytherin. His challenge did not find deaf ears.
Threat, warning, knowledge and... flirting? The girl's challenge reached every possible sense, although Severus very much doubted the latter.
Well, Snape had a mirror in the bedroom, and even if he didn't, he was reminded of his questionable appearance all the time. Jean might have publicly rejected Sirius Black, but he would never look at someone like him, so there was no chance of it being a lame excuse to kiss in the nearest broom closet - although the idea was not repulsive to him, and well he even thought it was Very pretty.
Hermione thought he must be very desperate to actually accept her help, after all she was a year younger, muggleborn (not that he knew of) and Gryffindor. She actually thought he would refuse her help because she was a Gryffindor, but here he was snorting discontent as he sat at a desk and indicated the chair across from him an unquestionable invitation.
At the end of it all Snape had been impressed by how smart the girl was. He suspected even more than that drooling Siberian husky snoring a few wallets away. But Severus' joy was short-lived, as in the middle of the explanation another individual immensely more undesirable than the slime project sprang up in the classroom.
- HEY, SNOTTY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEAR HER?! - Sirius forgot his hangover to make trouble in defense of the girl one of his best friends was clearly interested in, waking Remus in the process.
- I don't see your name on it, Black! Snape shot back, making Hermione arch an eyebrow. Since when has she become a reason for egos?
Indifferent on the outside, but laughing on the inside, Hermione allowed herself to agree that that tirade had been good, very good. Maybe even enough to forget one or two reprimands Snape had given him in the future.
Was Sirius this annoying always? If she ever made it back, she wouldn't stop complaining to Harry about her friend's godfather's impossible behavior at school.
- What makes you think you can come here, snotty?! Get closer to us….
- As far as I know, here is a classroom at Hogwarts, in pre-service time for the transfiguration subject.
- If you have any doubts, ask someone of your level. - Sneered.
Hermione was terribly offended. He had called her stupid, for being a year younger! But she soon realized that it would make more sense that Sirius was referring to the fact that it wasn't a death eater project. Or something like this?
- I would, but the creature in question is sleeping during working hours. Should I report this slip to Professor McGonagall?
Sirius even managed to pull out his wand and cast a spell, but Hermione was quicker and threw a stream of water at him.
- Unpleasant. I hate the smell of wet dogs. - Snape teased once more.
- ENOUGH! - He interfered by talking to both of them. - What are you doing here, Black?
- Is it forbidden to visit my friends now?!
- That's when he threatens another student!
- You mean you agree that you are my friend! - He wasted no time, giving a wink being promptly responded with another jet of water.
- If you do not mind? - She said turning to Severus who kept his victorious smile in front of the soaked Gryffindor. - Would you like us to finish our monitoring elsewhere? Hermione asked Snape, who readily agreed, following the short-haired girl to the library. Where she had a private class in the subject, at least as far as Jean knew, after all she was a year younger, as much as she knew a lot about seventh grade content, that wasn't all. Surprisingly the Slytherin completed the gaps without any mockery or contempt for her making the time together really enjoyable.
Confused, Remus watched the girl depart with the stateroom Slytherin, confused and somewhat irritated with Sirius for making her leave.
- I think it's better you do it right with her! - Sirius warned him. - Or sooner or later she may fall for that venomous snake's tricks! Or better yet, in my charms! - He joked.
- Padfoot, she is more likely to date Snape than to date you, I would say until she marries him and has five children and eighteen cats. - Remus chuckled, relieved the kiss between them hadn't been a big deal.
Just brother's things, you know!
- Since you are missing the magnificent chance to be with me, I say with propriety, from someone who has a lot of experience, that you have more chances than him.
- Chances of what? She's just a friend, coworker at best. Besides, she's afraid of canines.
- Well… that's bad for both of us, Moony. - Sirius spoke to the werewolf, who just sighed in Remus' mind.
“I wish I were a fish…”
#remione#remus lupin#sirius x remus#sirius x remus x hermione#sirius black#Hermione Granger#travel time#time turner#back in time#wolfstar
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One moment Flint was crossing his sword with Silver’s and then he was lying on cold ground, frozen to the bone.
He heard Silver’s voice, “Flint, you little shit, where are you going? Stop! Wait! How you can limp so fast. Stop!”
Sooner than the gigantic WHAT THE FUCK could occur in Flint’s mind, a small fox sniffed his temple.
“Flint! I’m gonna skin you if it’s another rabbit carcass…” Flint realised that Silver had been talking to his fox, before he’d seen him “What the hell! Man, are you hurt? Jesus you must be freezing,” Silver, in a ridiculous hat, immediately stripped his jacket off. “Take it.”
“Silver, what happened? Where are we?” Flint winced, while sticking his stiff arms into bulky sleeves. Smelling the familiar scent provided him a bit of comfort. Freshly bathed Silver.
“Silver? My name is Sol Little, you must have hit your head,” he said, and raised a hand to touch Flint, ”you are bleeding.”
“I.. I guess I got lost? Have you seen any of our men?”
“Our men? I haven’t met a living soul around here since I moved in.”
Flint made a quick decision. This Little/Silver character didn’t seem to be any threat, he didn’t even have a weapon. Flint desperately needed to warm himself and the rest of this shit he was caught in could wait for later.
“Do you want to call any of your men or anybody else?” Little/Silver handed him a strange angular object. Flint carefully accepted it, confusion on his face. A weapon, after all? “OK, we’ll figure it out later. Let's get you warm first. My cottage is just a few yards down the path. Can you get up?” Little/Silver took the mysterious thing back and helped Flint on his feet.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
“Fl...” No, Flint wasn’t willing to admit his name is the same as the man’s fox’s. “It’s James, James McGraw.”
“Solomon Little, my friends call me S,” replied Little/Silver/S and gingerly shook Flint’s hand.
“You are pretty lucky, man. I’d just cooked dinner before I went to walk Flint!” S smiled cockily, and stroked his fox’s head.
“Ohhh.” Flint cringed unintentionally.
When the excitement from finding an injured man in the woods had faded away, S noticed a strange strong bond to this mysterious man, such closeness he never felt in his whole life. He was finally whole. Later when Flint told his story he knew it was all true.
After a week of utter disbelief and refusal Flint gave up and accepted his situation. He was so exhausted by the war, his life and rage. He still dreaded the last memory from his old world. Him betraying Silver, Silver betraying him. Swords clashing. He saw this as a new chance.
This new world was so easier in many regards. Flint felt he would never have enough hot showers and baths, particularly since S made sure he wasn’t concussed and finally let him spend his time in a bath on his own. He loved reading while soaking in a bath. He was astonished by the amount of books S owned. Cooking or something simple as lighting a fire was so much easier here than back then in his old world, not even mentioning cars, phones and computers. Attitudes to sex and love had changed a lot, too. Besides books and bathing there was one thing Flint really appreciated in these modern times - good lube.
Epilogue
“Uhhh.” S hung up his phone and winced.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“We should tidy the house my landlord is coming this weekend. Thomas. Have I mentioned him...?”
Thousand thanks to @iressails who volunteered as my beta and @a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives who let me use her pics of Luke.
#vln#silverflint#black sails#sorry for the long post#S saved Flint the fox when a car hit him#his hind legs were badly injured hence the limp
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anything about joji and flint being friends?
I hope this is okay! I’ve never really thought about Joji before but I like him a lot and he’s fun to write.
He had killed Alfred Hamilton.
He had killed Thomas’s father, the man who had made all their lives hell, who had killed Thomas. Not physically, no - he was too much of a cowardly fuck for that - but he had driven Thomas - his own son - to despair and death.
James didn’t know how he had expected to feel. Relief, perhaps? But there could be no relief. Thomas was still dead.
Dead.
The thought echoed around his head and all at once the room seemed too small, too stuffy, the walls closing in on him. He stood up, placing a steadying hand on his chair and taking a deep breath, before heading out of his cabin and onto deck.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Joji on guard. Not that any of the crew would have attempted to talk to him, probably, but Flint knew he could rely on Joji to be silent. Joji simply nodded at him as he joined him at the side of the boat, looking down into the dark, swirling waters.
The crew were not happy about the Maria Aleyne, Flint knew. They had been promised a huge haul and come back with pittance. It was a pressing matter, he thought, one that he should feel some sense of urgency about, and yet he just felt numb.
He looked at Joji, standing a few metres behind him, staring out stoically into the night. The man was terrifying in battle and ruthless in interrogation, wielding his katana more expertly than most any crew member wielded sword or cutlass. He could cut his throat right here, thought Flint idly. He might even welcome it.
But he wouldn’t. Joji was loyal to a fault; he had not once voted against Flint’s captaincy or been part of any group voicing concern over any of his plans. He was not without friends in the crew, either; he kept himself to himself, but he tolerated company and the crew valued someone so reliable and loyal as Joji was. Plus, they didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.
In some strange way, Flint felt a sort of kinship with Joji.
He looked over his shoulder. “Joji?” he called, beckoning the other man over. Joji narrowed his eyes but immediately made his way forward to come level with the captain at the side of the ship. Joji looked at him searchingly.
Flint shrugged, suddenly awkward. “I just...would appreciate some company,” he said, feeling stupid as he said it.
Joji nodded sharply, then turned from Flint to stare out across the sea. He let his shoulder bump against Flint, and the warmth and quiet of it soothed Flint until Dooley came to replace Joji on watch in the early hours of the morning.
#black sails#james flint#joji#black sails fic#flinthamilton#mentions thereof anyway#anon#asks#ask meme#my writing#fanfic#Anonymous
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Civilization is coming: “Black Sails” and when rage is justified
(SPOILERS ahead! You’ve been warned...)
There’s a moment late in the first episode of the highly underappreciated series “Black Sails” that hints not only at the troubled past of its lead character Captain Flint but also describes the larger theme of the story.
Flint has gotten himself into trouble. Along with his crewmember Billy “Bones,” in an effort to secure the financing he needs to capture the gold from the Spanish warship known as L’Urca de Lima, his recklessness has gotten Nassau’s governor shot and injured and his plans all but evaporated. Billy feels they are now in too deep and they should not only turn back but perhaps new leadership is needed for Flint’s crew. It is here that Flint reveals a bit where his true ambitions lie.
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(Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen.)
On the first viewing, Flint ominously declaring the pending arrival of “civilization” to the new world could mean anything from simply the imperialistic tendencies of the British and Spanish empire, to the draconian rulership of the crown or just “taxes” as he makes light mention of in this speech. But as the series progresses, especially in the second season, “civilization” begins to take a darker, more personal meaning.
The story begins to reveal that the dangerous pirates of Nassau are not at least inherently dastardly, although certainly violent, but victims of their various circumstances; a former slave turned prostitute turned keeper of secrets in Max, a neglected daughter becoming the bookkeeper of the pirates with Eleanor Guthrie, another former slave turned ruthless pirate captain in the vicious Charles Vane, and an abused woman turned deadliest pirate on the island Anne Bony, and none more painfully revealing than that of Flint himself.
You see Flint didn’t always go by this name, he used to be a prominent officer in the British navy named James McGraw until he met Thomas Hamilton, a wealthy proprietor tasked with solving the problem of the pirates of Nassau many years prior. Thomas had the radical idea of pardoning the entire island to bring them back into society, to avoid violence and bloodshed, and to better understand the people who would turn to piracy.
As James gets to know him more and his revolutionary philosophies of empathy and enlightenment the two unexpectedly fall in love and thus seal the fates of both their downfalls from “civilized” society.
With England unwilling to see any other way to end the pirates without exterminating all of them and looking to exploit weaknesses in Thomas to Parliament, he is outed and imprisoned. James along with Thomas’s wife Miranda, who lives in a polyamorous relationship between the two, are persona non-grata-ed and the two flee to Nassau to finish what Thomas started in an act of rebellion.
(This is seriously one of the most heart-wrenching, tragic reveals I have ever seen on TV. I totally knew it was coming at the time and I was still not prepared for how it was delivered.)
There are few things as personal as love and “Black Sails” uses this to show how far society can go to villainize people. Flint wasn’t born a monster, and he is not one for loving Thomas; he is a monster because “civilization” wanted him to be one.
As our own civilization enters a timeline that may promise great change, people who have been othered and victimized by society are finding themselves grappling with their pain and grief in the same way as Flint. People have tried peaceful reconciliation and conformity into society to avoid violence throughout history despite the labels they have been given for no other crime than being who they are, but civilization’s need for a monster always brings people down no matter how hard they try to do it the “right way.”
(Tell me if you see a justice system in this picture that looks interested in listening...)
Native Americans tried playing by the white man’s rules when America began moving west. Compromising over and over again and yet they were killed and still killed and neglected today for it.
African Americans tried becoming rich like their white counterparts in places like “Black Wallstreet” in Tulsa, Oklahoma and were still bombed and massacred for it.
Asian and Latin Americans immigrated here to flee war and death largely caused by white imperialist countries, to survive and work jobs white Americans would not. Both are othered as foreigners, face violence from the state, and are deported everyday.
Poor working-class Americans try fruitlessly to keep their head above water as they become mired in debt, fighting a pandemic on slave wages essentially, all while our government cuts wealthy companies a fat paycheck annually with our own tax dollars. And anyone who fights back finds themselves without an income and health insurance during a recession and a pandemic.
And the LGBTQ+ community ask for the dignity to be left alone and treated normally but not only are they harassed for it but they are beaten, tortured, and killed for being different.
(Remember, Stonewall was a riot.)
Flint, himself, tries one last time, toward the end of season two, to peacefully resolve his vendetta with England and save Nassau from a war with them but instead finds himself facing the gallows anyways by the Charlestown government.
As they read out his charges, many of them real heinous things he did but also many that were fabricated, Flint stops them from proceeding any further and delivers a final act of defiance to the court.
“I have one regret,” he begins to the court of high society folks who are only interested in seeing him punished before the masses. “I regret ever coming to this place with the assumption that a reconciliation could be found. That reason could be a bridge between us. Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”
It is at this point in the story that Flint, perhaps like other revolutionaries of the past, recognize that the system doesn’t want to reason with him, that these people aren’t looking to understand or empathize with him or even try for that matter. They wanted a monster, they made one in him, so he decides there that “civilization” as he had noted in the series first episode is not worth reconciling with and certainly not worthy of forgiveness.
And Flint spends the rest of the series in bloody war with them.
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(From season 3. Again Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen)
“Black Sails” is about queerness, race, social politics, and the way conformity by force is used against it. It’s about the rage that boils underneath many of us as we are wronged over and over again by society, while being exploited to no end, and what happens when someone finally says “enough.”
Anyone who has experienced what it is like to be othered can find something deeply personal with the anger that Flint carries around with him in each scene of this series. We feel his pain of rejection by society, his grief for feeling ashamed of himself when he and the audience know he shouldn’t.
It's what makes the eventual reveal of his relationship with Thomas so cathartic, as we see the rage-filled guard of Flint drop as he reads Thomas’s words left for him in a book they both loved and shared.
(Again, I cannot emphasize enough how much of a gut-punch this reveal was watching this...)
"Know no shame” is so important to growth of this character and the message of this story. Civilization and those who wish to keep the status quo want those who do not fall in line with their authority and judgments to feel shame for who they are. They not only want monsters, they want you to feel like one and the reason Thomas line speaks so much to both Flint and the audience is that it reminds us there is no shame in who we are.
The country we live in is a powder keg right now experiencing the same rage that Flint feels and more specifically how he felt at the end of season 2. Though this country’s racist attitudes and subjugation of the vulnerable hardly started with this presidency it cannot be argued that it has brought all that hatred in our government and the people who support those views painfully to the surface. When people peacefully protest, peacefully assemble, and peacefully try to cast their vote and are still met with resistance, still met with hatred and violence, people have to start to wonder if operating within the system’s rules can actually affect change.
A lot has been made about the way protesters may have violently lashed out over the past three weeks, with media talking heads and privileged elites asking unironically why they couldn’t do things peacefully but more has been done as result of the rising tension than the previous 50 years combined. You can tell people to “#vote” all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that people have been trying that for decades and people are still getting quite literally killed for it.
(Again, I gotta ask, who is this protecting? Who is this serving?)
If there’s one takeaway I hope a viewer gets from “Black Sails” is that revolution, no matter how serious you are about it, should never be off the table when confronting systemic inequality. A racist, sexist, classist, and/or, in the case of Flint, homophobic power structure does not concede their power if you play to their convenience and when people are being put down, beaten, and often killed for showing their anger at this, calling for “law and order” becomes a slap in the face to the victims.
A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.
I’ll say it again.
A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.
No one wants it to get this far, I definitely don’t, and certainly not every peaceful mean has been exhausted yet in this fight perhaps but this country was literally founded on violent rebellion after being slighted all the same by out of balance power structures. I’m not advocating for violence or to take up arms against the state right now BUT no one should ever rule it out when the social contract keeps being broken and broken and broken again by those in charge who clearly don’t want to listen.
A government should always feel the threat of an uprising if it keeps wronging its people.
(See my blog post about “Do the Right Thing” if you need help understanding this quote.)
As the more fiery weeks of the protests seem to be in the rearview mirror and we find less activity and calls to action on our social media timelines, I want to remind you all to not let up with whatever you are choosing to do to help and keep fighting back out there. The people who stand to benefit from having angst of the general public leave and dissipate from our collective consciousness want us to forget how angry we are, they want us to feel fatigued and disinterested in continuing the push forward because “this is how they win” as Flint would say.
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(Again, Toby Fucking Stephens, everyone.)
We have so much more power than we realize, just look at how much got done just by everyone uniting behind one marginalized group finally over the past three weeks. When we realize we are fighting essentially in the same battle for respect and dignity, justice in our society can be achieved. It can be done, and maybe just maybe we can finally change the world. Afterall who else has been as close to achieving it as we are right now?
Fight for your dignity and respect and stand in solidarity with others in their own fights as well, and always remember “know no shame.”
Raise the colors and Happy Pride, everyone! (credit: Luluxa on Tumblr)
#Black Sails#Starz#happy pride 🌈#Pride Month#LGBTQ#LGBT#Stonewall#George Floyd#Police Brutality#BLM#Black Lives Matter#Tulsa#Black Wallstreet#Pirates#Toby Stephens#film#TV#movies#protest#protests#pride march#revolution#rage against the machine#do the right thing#Spike Lee
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⛓ x Peggy, for mewoo!Flint (she's trapped him in her kitchen because she's trying tend to some injury he has and she's probably gonna try to spoon feed him like a baby. peggy, please go take care of your own baby sdfjkdsfh)
Send ⛓ to capture my muse
It was fortunate for everyone involved that she had caught him just after the full moon, when his form was small and kittenish, and not before. James had been wandering- he liked to wander in this form, knowing that no-one knew what he was- and had eventually found his way to the house, perching on a windowledge outside to keep an eye on Peggy and her newest child. Before Peggy, he had never been around children, and as a result had no notion of how to interact with them, but it was... pleasant, in a way, to keep watch over the two of them without also having to make small talk.
Then Peggy had turned and spotted him sitting there, and James had startled so badly that he’d leapt away without thinking and landed poorly. He had lain there, shocked by the pain, and then warm hands were scooping him up and carrying him inside and the only thing he could think of was that this woman would die of fright if she knew what - and who - he was.
The cat was surprisingly docile as she set him down on the table. His tail lashed anxiously, but he flattened himself down and didn’t struggle when she began carefully fussing at him to look him over. When she carefully touched his hind leg to check it, he squeaked in pain; a high-pitched, pathetic mewl that sounded like it had come from a kitten.
#asks#ic: flint#v: mewoo (flint)#[ did i ever mention mewoo flint basically starts off as an almost kitten then the closer to the full moon it gets the more big and horrifyi#[ ANYWAY THIS IS STUPIDLY ADORABLE ]#[ james: i guess you can fuss over me FINE ]#untothisstorm: peggy#untothisstorm
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Sorry for any duplicates again I noticed on the doc I type stuff down I never put down what I sent which is you know something I shouldve done.
Anyway here is something with some thought put into it but mostly for fun
Hybrid Headcanons for TFTSMP just because I can:
The Village that Went Mad:
Miles Memington: Human
"Catboy": Cat-Human (duh)
Bob: Human
Helga: Human-Succubus Hybrid (Hey she gets around) (That also means small bat wings)
Jimmy: Human (Wife may cheat but he married a Succubus hybrid)
Robin: Human-Avian (Small Dove wings also I still like him being a doctor so.. little angel, with the added irony of the town telling him to go to hell)
Jack: Sheep Dog - Human Hybrid
Cornelius: Cow-Forest Fae Hybrid (Man was mysterious and was most defiantly dating Catboy)
The Lost City of Mizu:
Issac: Fae? - Human (He is something supernatural mixed with Human, a Time Traveler hitched a ride within him)
Benjamin: Dog-Human (Mixed Dog)
Charles: Avian-Human (Too Small to fly | Finches Wings)
Cletus: Human
Ranbob: Enderman - Human - ??? Hybrid (??? Equals Sheep if in my Sheep Bench Trio AU)
The Masquerade:
Sebastian: Human
Butler: Enderman-Human hybrid
Drew P. Wiener: Avian-Human hybrid (Pigeon)
Billiam the Third: A Pig Hybrid (not Piglin)
Lyaria: Something is Mystical about her so, ???-Human hybrid
James: Dog-Hybrid (All these Hybrids are based on Vibes but idk why he gives dog vibes | Airedale Terrier Dog Hybrid)
Oliver: Human
The Wild West:
William: Human
John: Fennec Fox-Human (Not every Ranboo should be part enderman)
Jack: Coyote-Human Hybrid
Sherman Thompson: Piglin-Human
Mason: Human
Ron Michael: Human-Avian (Mockingbird)
Flint "Connor" Michigan: He is Connor until proven otherwise so Hedgehog-Human hybrid
Crops: Bobcat-Human Hybrid
Percy: Human
The Haunted Mansion:
Joey: Human-Dog (Golden Retriever)
Zachary: Human
Ash: Human
Rash: Human - Sheep
Greg: Human
Porkums: Pig Hybrid
Francis: Cow-Hybrid
Gump: Human
The Pit:
Edward: Human
Ran: Enderman-Human
Porkius the 7th: Piglin Hybrid
Watson: Reindeer-Human Hybrid
Jackie: Demon-Human Hybrid (This dude Stood in Lava)
Bartholomew: Human
Genevieve: Wolf-Human Hybrid
John Grievous: Human
Levi: Wolf-Human Hybrid
Laggius Maximus: Human
-🐑
(Who is your Favorite TFTSMP character? Mine is Crops or Robin or Jackie. Crops because he was a funny cannibal, Robin because depressed orphan who is a doctor, and Jackie cause orphan who decided killing for a job was great)
oh wow i love these!! i'll take any TFTSMP a content i can get tbh.
Wolf fits so well for Genevieve and Billiam being a pig (kinda like the stereotype of a capitalist) hybrid while still looking down on "presents" is very ironic
God- honestly favourite characters? Anyone from the Masquerade fits the bill tbh especially billiam and James every character was fun in that episode.
Crops of course, as well as Robin from the forest episode. The bandits from the wild west were also all very strong characters.
Porkums was a fun new direction for techno being almost the opposite of his usual characters.
Hannah managed to makeGenevieve to play the "girl boss" thing in a was that normally doesn't work for me because her being a girl wasn't made a big deal of yknow? it wasn't a big deal she was a girl fighting but it was still mentioned.
And special mention to the Feral Boys in the beach episode- they weren't doing the most but they were doing their best.
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Headcanon Time: Peter Ashe knew about Woodes Rogers’ pardons
Hear me out!
So, in canon we know these things:
Woodes Rogers’ plan is already in motion by the time Eleanor makes it to London and is put on trial. He tells her he is leaving in two days - which means that he has already spent a significant amount of time preparing.
We know it takes roughly four weeks to travel from the Caribbean to London, roughly six to travel from London to the Caribbean.
Eleanor’s trial still hadn’t happened but she had been in London for some time, and via Jack’s toilet readings it is around the beginning of august. Since right now he’s filthy rich, let’s assume it’s a moderately current issue.
We know that Miranda and Flint are in Charlestown about the middle of June.
That leaves roughly 6-8 weeks of time between seasons 2 + 3.
There’s no way, no way that Rogers heard about Thomas’ plan, came up with his own plan, convinced investors it was sound, got the pardons approved, procured all the necessary supplies and ships, and was ready to sail in that short amount of time.
At least, not without help.
Also re: Thomas’ plans for Nassau, Alfred Hamilton absolutely would have had those under lock and key, if not burned when he imprisoned Thomas. IF they weren’t destroyed there is only one person he likely would have trusted to keep his mouth shut and keep them guarded - the one who had the most to lose if the truth came to light. Also conveniently the only person who would have had enough knowledge of the plan itself to help Rogers anyway.
Ya boi, Peter Ashe.
Even if Woods heard about the pardons merely from hearsay, he would have had to talk to very specific people, all of whom would also know Peter Ashe had also been involved(the only person ‘alive’ who was). Peter still has a reputation as a person of power in London(re: Richard Guthrie) and probably still has very powerful friends there. If someone was gonna go snooping around business that involved Peter Ashe, I can’t see him being the kind of person to ignore that especially if they mention Thomas Hamilton. Now, you could argue the timing of that but I would say that it's likely he got word of Rogers’ plan before James and Miranda came to Charlestown.
So, why does he ask James to go to London and bare his soul?
My thought, honestly, is to get him out of the way for Rogers. He knows Rogers is getting ready to sail, sometime in the next few months. He can’t trust that James - who he’s just learnt is Captain Flint - will want to go along with their plans even if he has come seeking the pardons. But by the time he and James go to Nassau, he spends a few days making nice, planting the thoughts of pardons in everyone’s heads, and then leaving with Flint(who has basically cosigned the venture) it’s likely Rogers will be underway. And even more likely they’ll pass right by each other as he and James sail for London and Rogers sails for Nassau with the very pardons he’s just fortold would be available and James will be none the wiser.
Paving the way for the pardon plan to go off without a hitch and also conveniently stranding the Island's best strategic captain and preventing him from forming any sort of counter-attack.
As far as Peter’s motive, you could argue that now with Alfred gone, he sees this as a way to clear his conscience of his part in the Hamiltons’ and James’ downfall. (”Perhaps this is an opportunity for us all to find a little forgiveness”). I can absolutely see him funding this new expedition to do exactly what Thomas wanted(sort of) as a way to clear himself and make himself the hero of the story. (”Peter Ashe, who was a part of the original venture, was now among the first and most loyal supporters of Rogers’ attempt to subdue the wicked pirates of Nassau.”)
Also of note: The Urca gold was only stolen in the same episode(s) as James and Miranda were in Charlestown. Therefore, the Spanish would not have had a reason to seek/deal with Rogers before then. What might have led Rogers to find another investor so late in his plans? Maybe....the uh....death of a major one? Like...Peter Ashe?
Which leads me to my final conclusion.
Peter Ashe is a goddamn motherfuking backstabbing son of a biscuit eating piss ant.
#ANYWAY HERE YA GO THIS IS WHAT HAS BEEN TORMENTING ME FOR TWO DAYS#black sails discourse#black sails#peter ashe#there aren't any gifs in this one because even i'm not laughing#im like the town crier but i dont bring any news i just never stop crying#sorry this is a wall of text#milo writes
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