yes. yes you are.
Awww. A happy hgg’ing bear for you.
👗 – adjusting their clothes [ @ gates because LISTEN flint is Fussy and that Fussy Energy has to go SOMEWHERE ]
Hal stood still as he was henned over, and once it seemed Flint was quite finished, he couldn’t contain himself any further. “Am I pretty?” The inquiry held all the sombre intensity such a question deserved. He expected a very good answer, for putting up with this.
💦 from jack to thomas ( !!!! )
Head thrown back in wanton abandon, Thomas failed to contain himself properly as a groan tore itself from his throat. One hand anchored itself in Jack’s hair, fingers threading through the strands to take a firm and steadying grip – careful not to yank, but holding sure enough to cause no doubt to the pleasure that was racing through him as his lover’s tongue pressed firmly along his length, sinful in its familiarity with his form and all the ways to twist him directly toward the purest bliss.
Thankfully, matters such as this tended to be – generally overlooked – amid pirate crews. That most were ashore at any rate admittedly lowered his inhibitions further, which was perhaps not the politest thing in the world, but he was well past caring as his other hand had to twist into the soft cotton of his lover’s shirt, if only to keep himself from shifting too violently and upending them both from the fucking cot.
It was hardly his fault of course – if Jack would just be a little more accommodating this wouldn’t be nearly so difficult, but the bastard did love his sense of control. With his arm braced around the man’s middle he was able to angle up enough to begin returning administrations, though the jolt of Jack’s hips damn near undid him, he managed to maintain matters a moment before falling back onto the cot and laughing at the ridiculousness of this.
“Fuck, Jack, this isn’t working,” He smacked the man’s back, trying to encourage him to move from his singular focus, “Jack!” This was an accident waiting to happen, christ!
“I don’t want this.” [ @ gates, pick a verse any verse ]
Hal’s head tilted to the side very slowly, whispers in the dark rising to an incoherent cacophony as he tried to catch their words, knowing that the anger within him was what was stirring up their attentions. He focused on them for too long – silence reigned in the outside world as he pinned Flint with an unseeing stare, listening to voices disembodied and vicious as the violence inside of him.
“And I did?” He wondered too softly, as if by keeping his words quiet it would encourage the thunderous roar of the shadows to dull itself in his mind. “This is what we have now – you have no position to be bitching about it,” Hal could no longer tolerate the howling. Reaching up, he turned the noise into action, using the shadows in order to silence them.
With uncanny force, Flint’s chair shot forward, knocking into the man’s knees and forcing him to sit down. Wordlessly, Hal crossed over and set his palms down on the desk, the noise fading now to the usual soft and meaningless background chatter. “So how about you do us both a favor and start thinking about what we’re going to do about it.”
We. That was the power word in his statement, for though he spoke forcefully – if quietly, unwilling to stir the shadows into chaos again – there was no questioning the fact he remained – for better or worse – Flint’s man. Changed, and questionably a man at all, but his to command and direct if he willed it. Yet with that came a heavy weight as well – a responsibility to do right this time, because there would surely be no third opportunity presented.
❝ do you really think that? ❞ [ @ silver ! ]
When Jandro had seen the ship enter the harbor, some part of him had quailed away, seeking retreat he knew better than to chase. Gripping his crutch, he made his way to the guards on site and informed them of his history with this crew – in short form, but with enough detail to show he was capable of managing them but would prefer to have the House of Silver keep a weather eye on the lot, particularly the captain.
He had gone with the committee then, tending to matters with brisk and efficient professionalism. He showed little favor despite the familiarity he held with these men, and inspected the Walrus thoroughly. There had been a few men he hadn’t recognized, which was understandable all things considered. They were marked down, and Chava had hummed at Hamilton, Thomas in a way that indicated the name bore significance that would be discussed later.
While the crew was presently being cleared and tagged, he had some time to speak to Flint in private – informing him without preamble that he would not be causing trouble in Lamara, and as soon as the Walrus was repaired, she and her crew would be leaving.
The response did not bode well.
“If your intention is to stay,” He could not withhold his doubt on this, “Then you will go through the same processes as everyone else – there are no rooms in Lamara for idle hands, nor any interest in men whose agendas do not align appropriately. If you think to radicalize this place, you have come to the wrong island, hombre.”
‘i wish you were here.’ [ @ ghost!gates ;^; ]
The anger that had reigned through him for so long had faded by now, and while such sentiments would have sent him into a flying rage before on account of who was responsible for the fact he wasn’t there anymore, now he could only find himself pained by the awareness that Flint had no more wanted this than he had. It had been a perfect storm – one that he had summoned against himself, if he were honest in the silence he was damned to, and more often than not these days Hal saw little reason to be dishonest with himself.
Though he had the energy for it, Hal opted not to materialize in that moment. He felt that the sight of him would not help in this – and though he did not wish to be forgotten, he also did not want to be held on to so tightly that Flint lost himself. Unable to help in any substantial way, Hal slipped away, and decided to make use of himself by harassing some of the crew who were proving themselves especially problematic – if he could haunt them overboard, that would be delightful, but he’d settle for distracting them to the point they forgot to cause trouble in the meanwhile.
‘every word you’re saying is a lie.’ [ @ silver >:/ ]
Silver affected a quizzical look, as if he had absolutely no idea what on earth Flint could be on about. He held it for a good thirty seconds before he could feel his fucking moustache quivering against the effort to keep a straight face, and he was done in. His teeth flashed in an unrepentant grin even as he asked, “Alright, who told you?”
Someone must have clued Flint in to the fact the ‘insults’ he had been learning were in fact compliments, which of course when stated angrily had the hilarious effect of confusing the shit out of whoever they directed at – which hopefully would mitigate some of the damage of Flint’s rather combative personality in some cases. Now that he was on to it though, it would hardly be as entertaining.
‘don’t you die on me.’ from phil to andre (,:
Andre could not help but wonder slightly, as he laid coughing upon the snow, when it was he had come to mean so much to the earl’s daughter that his present state would alarm her so. While there was no doubt that he was getting on in years, and it was true he had taken a rather shocking spill just now thanks to missing his step on the ice, there was hardly enough cause to think he’d perish from it.
Sitting up shakily, he supposed it might have something to do with the fact he was also rather ill, and probably ought to have chosen not to come out at all. However, it was not often that he had anything to do, and refusing an invitation meant waiting a long stretch of months before being remembered by the world enough to receive another. While he wasn’t the most sociable of men, he did have some need for companionship from time to time, and he hadn’t thought the cold such a terrible thing.
“It will take more than England’s weather to kill me, mon chou,” He mused as his breath returned to him. Dusting off his pants, he sat in the snow a moment longer and prayed the ache in his bones away as he gripped his cane and attempted to get his feet back under him.
“I keep hoping it’s a dream,” Flint says, quietly. His mouth twists up into a wry-looking smile. “Keep wanting to be awakened somehow.” [ @ survived!gates in That Verse ]
{ Heart Of Everything Starters }
Hal opened his mouth to say something, and in the end found he had nothing in his repertoire for this. He could hardly imagine what it must be like – to spend so much of one’s life twisted up in a revenge story against an entire country and way of life in the name of one person was wild enough. To suffer the loss of someone so deeply and discover them alive and well was an emotional upheaval in and of itself.
To have the person one had forged themselves into the sword of turn around and retire you – Hal honestly couldn’t even begin to sympathize with such a dramatic set of circumstances, let alone offer empathy for it. The whole thing was beyond his sphere of understanding – but in the end he knew he had to try. At this point, he was one of the very few who seemed interested in doing so – and the other two were just as confusing as he was!
What must it be like, Hal wondered, to have three men whom you tried to kill with full intent – and in some cases on multiple occasions – being the ones to hold you up and check in on you when the one you fought for, killed for, and lost everything for decided you weren’t what was wanted?
Reaching out, he gripped the man’s shoulder. There were no words for any of this, he knew, so in the end he just pulled Flint to him and hoped that a hug might suffice where words fell short.
Ocean Archive 