👐 – hugging them [ for gates, you get one (1) flint-initiated hug per month, congratulations ]

Balanced somewhat precariously as he was presently, Hal didn’t really have chance, choice, or opportunity to dodge the oncoming assault from below. The feel of a face pressing into his stomach was all he needed to register the fact this was a rather ill timed hug from someone on the crew, which was probably the only thing that kept him from dropping the ropes he held on their head in retaliation for his surprise.

“Really?” Hal mused, now looking at his newly acquired, Flint shaped barnacle and knowing damn well he was being buttered up for nonsense. Shoving the rope still in his hands aside, he shook his head and fluffed the younger man’s hair, hoping he had a good stance, because if he fell over as a result of this the son of a bitch was coming with him, by Jove! “What is it, you damned lug?”

intolerablexsacrifice replied to your post:
☛ – press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them…

MURDER HIM SILVER

ANGRY POODLE GOT NO TIME FOR YOUR SHIT TODAY CATAIN FLINT

👄– kissing them on their jaw ( to theo !! )

{ Nonverbal Starters }

Theodore would never deny how deeply it pleased him when Bram would shuck aside his nerves and initiate matters, for he always had such sweet ways of beginning what could at times become rather rigorous exercises in passion. Other times, these little displays were nothing more than placating actions, and Theodore was only too glad to allow himself to be manipulated into calm so that Bram could be frustrated and sharp without fear of repercussions later in the day.

( In truth, Theodore had a feeling Bram didn’t even know he was manipulating matters when he did so – it just came and went, his bad moods and his good ones, with no true recollection of having used a good mood to garner smooth sailing through a terrible one )

All of this culminated into reasons why Theodore adored Bram so deeply – they shared in something that was intimately their own, but the men the world had made them to be were not compromised because of it. His lover was still every bit the incomparable, collected lord of Edrington, a man of impeccable standing in society and respectable ( if at times questionable and terrible ) military advantage.

He could be cold – astonishingly aloof in a world so passionate in it’s whipping around him – and he could be unyielding and devastating in turns. There was a thread of steel in his spine that Theodore adored, even when it could at times turn itself upon him as the weight of the world settled too heavily upon familiar shoulders.

By contrast, Theodore was as warm and malleable as ever to the fates he found himself facing. He challenged convention at every turn, and faced battle with the economic mind of a man who would see it finished not for glory, but for the interest of the adventure after it. He lived a life that lacked regret, and it made him stand out among his companions in ways that were not always complimentary.

Perhaps it was a touch of Theodore rubbing off on Bram in these moments, when the whole world seemed to grow still and all that mattered was the joy they shared together. Just as, sometimes, Theodore thought a little of Bram had rubbed off on him when he found himself directing something with more grace than usual.

Either way it mattered little to Theodore as he hauled Bram up in answer, setting him on his desk almost primly, and answered his gentle start with an unquestioning passion. They had all the time in the world, and he fully intended to utilize it as he anchored himself at his lover’s hips and began to kiss his neck with unbridled adoration.

☛ – press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up [ for silver bc YOU KNOW HOW HE HAS THAT FUCKING HABIT of talking when they absolutely need to not be heard? Y E A H. ]

{ Nonverbal Starters }

There was something so incredibly condescending and belittling about Flint’s manner of silencing him that for a brief, wild moment of fancy, he actually considered biting the man’s finger with force enough to blood him. Were it not for the fact he was aware that silence was to their advantage at the moment, he damn well might have done so just to take a stand against the captain’s ignorant idea he was some kind of pet to be controlled in such a manner.

As it was, he simply raised his brows and played completely innocent. There was no point bearing his teeth here, literally or figuratively. He was even so good as to keep his silence throughout the remainder of the mission – not because he feared Flint or felt he ought to make a good impression, but for no other reason than it benefitted him both to play nice and to follow the plan in its entirety.

When matters were said and done, however, he did ensure to set the record straight, as frankly he had no wish to delude Flint into thinking that he was someone who could be manhandled into subservience. That would only encourage a repeat performance – which was frankly, unacceptable.

“Just so we’re clear,” He leaned a hand against a supporting beam, as much for balance as a display of nonchalance, “I don’t give a fuck what the situation is, you ever put your finger on me like that again I will bite it off.” He still had the location of the Urca, after all – the man couldn’t kill him at this juncture. Maybe he’d pay for this later, but he’d worry about that then. There was no way he was going to spend his time here treated like a fucking dog, regardless of what Flint thought of him.

👗 – adjusting their clothes | TF’s Joji to Hal Gates

{ Nonverbal Starters }

The slight tugging at his collar as it was drawn and smoothed back into its proper position stilled Hal’s hand from bringing yet another mug of mead to his lips. There were only three people who’d dare straighten him up – but only one he could think of who would be conscientious and caring enough to actually fucking do it.

“What’d this crew do to deserve you, Joji?” He asked, not even bothering to look and confirm his suspicions as he was efficiently brushed off. Hal adored his boys, of course – and he was damn near territorial of the lot of them – but there was an unspoken rule on the Walrus that pitted every man for himself in the aftermath of a brawl.

Oh, they were good enough in the midst of things – there was certainly a brand of loyalty among the crew to each of his brothers – but after all was said and done, they scattered like rats in the light to tend their wounds and their pride, as heaven forbid any man think another man weak aboard that bloody ship of theirs, as if they all didn’t know the chinks in one another’s armor anyway. Pride would sink them all one day, of that he was damned sure.

Shadow shifted beside him, and once Joji had sat down, Hal motioned the bartender to bring the man a drink. It was on his tab, as a thanks for the small gesture. “One of these days these damn kids of ours are gonna start a fight they can’t finish,” He mused mildly, knowing the silent man would understand well enough what he was really saying – of all the men aboard the ship, Joji was the one he trusted most, and knew would do well in his absence because none would think the Easterner was Hal’s confidant. Which meant he knew all the secrets, and not a damn soul would think to ask him to share any. “Then where will you and I be, I wonder?” Other than out of work, at any rate.

“Today, I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be.” [ for thomas, life as a lord verse! ]

{ Black Sails Starters }

“Oh, I somehow doubt that, lieutenant,” It was rare for Thomas to subscribe to formality for any reason other than to draw a point – and this was perhaps a perfect example of a moment in which he weaponized formality for his own purposes. He understood that James was teetering on the edge of something profound, and eager as he was to draw him in, there would be no victory until the man himself chose his method of defeat.

It had been thrilling, of course, to hear of the brawl enacted in Miranda’s name – an act of defiance in the highest order, of that Thomas had no doubt. But it was one thing to defend a woman so outrageously, and quite another to acknowledge internally whether or not her husband had also been cause for such violence – not to mention why.

It took incredible restraint in that moment not to reach out and push, to shove James into this life and let him experience a taste of true passion for once in his high collared existence, but Thomas would not be the man’s excuse should fear grip him or shame cripple his fighting spirit. If he made this choice it had to be for himself and for something far greater than mere lust, or it would be all too easy to abandon in favor of a simpler existence.

“Nevertheless,” He could not leave the poor man twisting in the wind too long, for fear of losing what they did have. Whether James pressed all the way or not, what they held now was deeply valued in its own right. “I do thank you, on Miranda’s behalf – as I’m rather certain she’s set to scold you within an inch of your life.”

Here, he could not help but smile – as much as he pitied the man the dressing down he was sure to receive, Thomas would not deny for a second how much he adored it when Miranda let her cool demeanor fall away in favor of the most vicious verbal lashings he’d ever seen. It was truly captivating to behold, and it would be a lie to pretend he wasn’t at least a little excited by the drama of it all.

🤧 – comforting them when crying | TF’s Joji to Abigail

{ Nonverbal Starters }

His presence so often calmed her that his arrival now did little to bring shame into her heart. He had seen her crumble before and never once had he offered judgement. Today was no different as he came and crouched before her, holding her hands until she gathered herself. So often this was all it took – a gentle touch and a sense that it would be alright, over time.

Her hands tightened in his, for today was her father’s seventh birthday in the afterlife – and his first where she had completely forgotten her tradition to visit the sea and speak with him. Her days were so filled with wonderful routines now – meditation, work, writing, her calligraphy practice and of course, the hand to hand training Joji had walked her through today.

It was more of the same motions she was growing ever more used to, but there had been a new form incorporated today and she’d become so consumed with memorizing it and working it into her present forms at practice, before heading to work, that somehow today had become – just another day. It had not been until she had gone to cross off her calendar at work that it had struck her, and surely seven years was hardly enough time for a daughter to forget her father! Let alone all else that had been lost in the fires that had consumed Charlestown.

She had tried to tell herself then – so as not to break apart at work – that it was understandable. She was allowed to move on, to acknowledge the past and the dead when it suited her and to live her life without being consumed by her ghosts. And it was enough, to get her outside and to the table where Joji would meet her to take her home – but business with Mr. Gallenger must have run late, for he was not there.

She had sat, and acknowledged the true reason she was upset wasn’t that she didn’t believe those things. It was that she hadn’t made the choice on purpose. There was a difference between deliberately moving past her father’s birthday and somehow – somehow forgetting it entirely. Even just this once.

She had not meant to cry, and she hated feeling guilty over something so arbitrary as respecting a day that had always been so selfish in life. Her father’s birthdays were always cordial affairs, with business partners and their wives coming to call for entertainment and discussion, often bringing new connections for him to meet on his special day as though these people were, in and of themselves, a gift just to talk to the once.

And her father never hesitated to treat them that way, so she learned the importance and value of networking would always outweigh whatever small thing Abigail managed to purchase or make for him – but she never found melancholy, for when the guests had taken their leave and the hour was late, her father would always find her in the garden or the library, wherever she had sequestered herself away from the din, and gather her into his arms as if she were his greatest gift. It was her favorite part of the day, and had been all of her life.

Perhaps that was why she was so keen to remember it – when she had been so wounded by his wrong doings she had forgotten so much of his goodness. Missing his goodness that first year had made her feel guilty for all his wrongs, and she’d had quite the bitter things to say to the sea that day. But the second year, she had missed him in all his faults and goodness, and she had wept by the sea for hours, mourning him – and mourning for herself, as well, for all she had lost and all that she feared. Being alone had been so very terrible, that second year.

It had been a different emotional journey every time she had gone to the sea to talk to him. On his birthday, and on two Christmases when she could bear the loneliness of them no longer, and even once on an Easter because she had been so boggled by the fact she was excited to work that day – and it was because she wouldn’t have to be alone.

This was the first time she had not felt any compulsion to honor him or talk to him, and it had caught her by complete surprise. Holding on to Joji’s hands, she supposed it was the surprise that shocked her most – it made sense, in a way, that she no longer felt so obliged. It was very much due to this man, who had done so much to make sure she wasn’t alone, that she was perhaps finally moving beyond the past.

“Sorry,” She couldn’t help but excuse herself, even though she knew he didn’t mind her tears like others did. They didn’t offend him, not in the least, and there were no true words for how much that meant to her. “I just had a bit of a shock – but I’m alright,” She promised, smiling for him and knowing deep down that her words were true. She was alright – and she would continue to be so.

She considered going down to the beach after all, but in the end she shook her head. It was time to make the choice – and she rather liked the notion that this year could mark the start of moving on. Squeezing his hands, she let out a breath before slowly rising to her feet. “I’d best get home – I’d hate to miss my evening meditations.” She could start them late, but then she’d get to sleep late, and she’d hate herself in the morning for it.

👅 – giving them a love bite on the shoulder | TF’s Joji to Charles in the FWB thing mentioned bc I guess we’re going for this oh goodness

{ Nonverbal Starters }

The slight pinching sensation at his shoulder as teeth sank against his flesh brought a smile to Charles’ lips even as familiar arms snaked about his waist. This was a new sort of arrangement, but there was little to it that was not welcome or enjoyable. Joji’s silent manners of initiating tended to shift the brewing storms of oncoming bad moods rather elegantly, though Charles would never own to that.

Shifting, Charles turned in the other man’s hold – a feat made simple by the fact Joji was wise enough to never try to pin or capture, and was generally quite malleable to whatever happened to be required at any given moment. Stained hands gripped the other’s hips to make it clear this was no rejection, ink from the tedious task of book keeping still clinging to prints more suited to hard labour than the more delicate task of holding a quill.

“Is this what you’ve been lingering for, or are you simply letting me know it’s time to leave the rest to Jack?” He never expected Joji to reply in any verbal sense – was quite used to inquiring into the air between them and marveling at how much the man could tell him without a word. Sometimes though – sometimes he had no fucking idea what the man was trying to tell him, and it was damn near maddening. Especially when, for all he knew, the man wasn’t saying anything at all – literally and figuratively.

But it worked, this silence, and Charles often found he didn’t mind it at times like these, when he was pulling the Easterner close to him and leaning down to taste the skin of his neck. This was something neither one of them needed to communicate too much in – and perhaps that was why they enjoyed each other so.

Apparently Peter Pan killed Long John Silver.

I should not be laughing but boy oh boy, am I ever.

and always after this she felt if you could have a pet pirate, Smee would be her one.

SAME WENDY, SAME.