#I could probably go on and on for ages about Flint and Silver

[jaynovz]

7, 17 for weird questions? <3

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Creating scenes and moments out of whole cloth, making the intangible somehow tangible through just the power of words. When everything is just... clicking along so well and flowing and you come out with something that's so fucking choice that you just sit back and smile at it for a moment, so PLEASED with yourself that you’re vibrating with joy.

That part is pretty awesome. <3

Close second place-- The community of other writers, getting to concept/spin out ideas. A unique creative experience that cannot be matched.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ohhhhhh!! -zoomy eyes- BREAK UP BOYS.

Okay so anyone who has been around me/my blog for five seconds in the last six months already knows that I've been working nonstop on this Gigantic Novel of a Black Sails mod au lmao.

But just in case:

Minor celebrities Artist!Flint and Actor!Silver meet and fall in love in NYC during winter. At first they seem like a perfect match, each singular to the other in their own way; the relationship intensifies into a whirlwind the likes of which neither has ever had before, reaching dizzying heights of emotion and vulnerability.

However, problems lie beneath the surface of the delirious bliss; a fraught tale laden with mistakes, miscommunication, and betrayal plays out, both sides at fault. Inevitably, they have a devastating break up.

Nearly a year later, they meet up again at a holiday party, their reunion engineered by mutual friends. The same cycle of intensity, love, and hurt begins again, even worse than before. 

Can they learn from their mistakes and compromise? Will they ever be free of each other or are they in an endless time loop? Is there a true ending? 

Hmmm, well it’s not DONE YET, so I can’t tell you. 

This story is called the All Too Well verse b/c the idea spawned from my absolute OBSESSION with Taylor Swift’s 10 min version of the song which was released in Nov 2021. Much of the story is adapted from the lyrics, but a huge amount of it is Jay Original as well. Which lyrics I use are landmines/surprises as we go :P

The story is written non-linearly, with two timelines, the present and past interspersed as we build towards The Break Up Fight, which the entire story revolves around.

Fun things that probably won’t make it in... hmmm... well Silver’s backstory lmao, especially the details of how he lost his leg. But because of the nature of the Snake Lad I actually... shouldn’t tell you that. I’m sorry!!

But I wrote Flint a new backstory from scratch, which is emerging a little at a time and so I can talk about it in a bit more detail: 

He grew up VERY poor in upstate NY, on a dairy farm. He and Anne are siblings in this and their parents died when they were both pretty young. They’ve been raised by their grandparents on this family farm, both being taught the ropes of how to maintain it. He’s been drawing since childhood and mentioned in chap 4 that he “grew up sketching a lot of cows.” 

There was a lot of pressure on him as the oldest to take over the farm from his aging grandparents, which caused friction. He compromised by instead moving to the city and getting a job where he could send money back to help out. Flint had a very successful career as a PI for about ten years, continued painting in his off time. Then finally was able to go to art school, started painting full time. He had a lucky break and has been a pretty big name in modern art for the last decade.

There’s more~~ There’s always More. But I wanna keep some secrets and also I have rambled on quite a lot lmao. Also you can read Break Up HERE as the drama develops.

Thanks for the questions and for letting me plug my story!! <3

[breath-of-eternity]

Preview: The next Interlude

The name of the city changed so often, the girl could not remember the most recent moniker, or which factions would kill you on if they heard you utter the wrong name. Names didn’t matter all that much, she knew this well. The important part was what it meant, and to her, it was places to hide and food to steal.

She dressed in rags she scrounged from clothes lines, and dragged her leg behind her so people would not take her for a threat, but her eyes remained sharp. A woman walked briskly down the street, and the girl picked up speed to fall in pace beside her. Her tiny hand slipped under the woman’s coat to find a purse and a ring. In a heartbeat, she slipped the ring over her thumb and returned to gimping along.

Once she turned the corner, the girl ran across the street and into an alley. At the dead end, she hopped up onto the waste bin and boosted herself into the upper window. Once this place had been a bakery, but a storm had caved in half the roof and the owner vanished rather than invest in repairs. It had only been abandoned for a few months, since it happened right after the girl came to this district. Things decayed quickly here.

“What you got today, girlie?” Harrow asked. Short, wiry, with a heavy brow that made them look permanently angry. You could say they owned the building now, since they were the one who decided who got to stay there at night. The girl dropped a coin in their hand—copper, but all she’d been able to snatch that day—and took out a tart from the folds of her coat.

Harrow looked at the meager offerings. “You probably kept all the good stuff for yourself.”

“Alls I have is another tart,” the girl said. She bent down and took out a piece of flint. “Also got this, but I need it.”

“Hand it over.”

Harrow was bigger than her and missing most of their teeth—from fights, they boasted, rather than rot. The girl sulked, but handed over the flint. She had to look as disgusted as possible, and not break eye contact for a minute, otherwise they’d search her and find the ring. They wouldn’t ban her permanently, just beat the shit out of her until she lost a few teeth of her own.

“Better bring me something better tomorrow,” Harrow said.

“But—”

“I ain’t being a dick to ya, it’s just the way it is. More people want to hide out here, and they gots better stuff. I’m only letting you stay here tonight ‘cause you’re a regular, but here on out, get me silver or better and some decent food.”

“There is no decent food,” she said.

“No fucking shit, girlie,” they said, their voice rough. One of their lackeys called to them, and when they turned their head, the girl got a good look at the slice running down their cheek. They won the fight to keep control of the bakery, at least for now.

With their attention off her, the girl retreated to the section of the bakery she thought of as hers. A board leaned against the wall like a tent, and she crawled under and took out the remaining tart. It was mashed and covered in wool, and she ate it in three big bites in case anyone had any ideas about taking it from her.

There were a lot more kids in here than usual, some older, most younger because Harrow could control them easier, and almost none known to her.

“Psst! Selise!”

Selise looked over, cradling an arm studded in bruises. The girl thought they were the same age, but what age that was, she couldn’t guess. She’d been on the streets since the orphanage was shut down, so about five years, and she didn’t think she was older than seven or eight when that happened. But who the hell knew? Not her, that was for sure.

“What’s with all these people?” the girl asked.

“Lot’s a people coming in lately,” Selise said. “Army’s been rounding people up to join.”

“Makes no sense. There’s not a war going on. Is there?”

Selise shrugged. “I heard some men talking about the Holy Order recruiting the best people with promises of food and money and shit, and lots a people are going for it.”

“I’d go for it. Think it’s true?”

“Doesn’t seem like it, but maybe.”

She didn’t sound much like she believed it. The girl lay down and tucked her arm under her head to catch some sleep.

Then, smooth nothingness as sleep took over. She was awake before she was aware of it, smoke making her eyes water, and when she checked for Selise, the other girl was gone. The girl jumped to her feet and ran for the window, but the smoke thickened and her foot hit something heavy but yielding. She crashed onto the ground and pushed herself up, checking to make sure the ring was still where she tucked it.

There was a groan and the girl reached back, hands running over fabric until she found a meaty face. Her hand came back tacky with blood, and then came the screams.

The girl reached under whoever it was and yanked, but they weighed as much as ten sacks of potatoes. Harrow, she thought, and she dragged them through the smoke to the window. Her lungs burned and she had to pause, but it didn’t help. She yanked her ragged shirt over her nose and felt for Harrow’s face. When she found it, she slapped them twice, until their gurgles turned to curses.

“Wha fuck?” “Climb!” the girl screamed. “They’re smoking us out!”

[hellsbells91]

Black Sails 4.09 Watch Notes

Whew, well now *takes breath*. Black Sails wields tragedy like Flint does his sword - unrelenting and with little mercy xD

That being said this episode on the surface felt a little anti-climactic, I won’t dodge any criticism there - especially when you compare it to season 3 the story here feels a little constricted, in the way that the focus now is on tying everything up to Treasure Island, the war almost takes a back seat. The more I let everything sink in though, because BS really knows how to send me into a state of shocked incomprehension, the more perfect everything gets.

A moment\s silence for all the characters who did not make it out of this episode alive. I mean it’s logical to think that no one can make it out alive to divulge the location of the treasure and of Skeleton Island, but it still hurts.

Anyway on to the rest:

“Your opponent’s wrist is from whence the attack is born. It is its past tense, from which it cannot separate itself. The end of the blade, where the attack arrives, is it’s present tense, which also cannot be denied.”

“All warfare is the same. In it there are two questions are of paramount importance. Who was my opponent yesterday and who is he today.”

Flint’s words pretty much sum up some of the show’s main themes don’t they? At least in terms of characters and their motivations - everyone is tied to their past somehow, everyone has a story, perhaps none more so than Flint. To have offered freely the information of his past to Silver in s3, information that he states here is key to knowing your opponent, showed a great deal of trust. And it leads Flint into questioning Silver - a man who has worked hard to separate himself from his past - where he came from, and it also leads to in my opinion some of the most moving material in the show as this episode brilliantly cuts between the present and a series of sparring sessions between Flint and Silver.

The flashback scenes with Silver and Flint showcase Black Sails at its best, away from the guns and the battles (though those are awesome too!!) to focus on the complex relationships forged between the characters. To see Flint and Silver alone together and not having play to their personas or put up a front is a rare gem, the gentle soundtrack to these scenes heightens their intimacy, and along with the jokes and easy smiles we get a sense of true friendship and peace that is ever so upsetting because unlike Flint and Silver in that moment we’re burdened with the knowledge of what’s going on in the present.

Silver’s leg is a huge point of insecurity for him, and we’ve grown used to seeing him act brave for the crew’s sake, as if he’s not tired or in pain - going so far as to actively reject help. He often hides the injury from them, and even now he talks about how the men must view him. But in front of Flint, he abandons the metal leg without a thought:

“But for pride to be an issue between you and I, I think we’re plain past that by now.”

You said it John ;)

When Flint first asks Silver the truth of his past though, Silver is suddenly quick to brush him off, and flippantly tells another story to try and dodge the truth. But when Flint pushes him, we see a sudden change in Silver. Through a combined expression of sadness and fear, John’s mask slips, he gets this faraway look in his eyes and once again I am ACHING to know what happened to him. Flint is probably the first person to take actual interest in John’s history, and caught off guard it seems like John’s first instinct is to run away from probing questions as he simply tells Flint that it’s not important and leaves.

Silver’s past is obviously something that must have been quite traumatic (he says he can’t bear it to be known), but it’s something that Silver has chalked up to “shit happens” basically and has since decided that he doesn’t need ‘a story’ to try and make sense of himself, and has completely cut himself off from who he was. It seems as if whatever did happen to Silver growing up, Silver has become so used to being uncared for that somewhere he began to believe that that’s just how things are, that’s how the world is. So he cares for no one, and lives in service of himself only. He says his past is of no consequence but it’s also undoubtably shaped who he is. We don’t learn of Silver’s tragic backstory, but it is tragic nonetheless. Perhaps even more so when you consider that the rest of John’s life is now to be dictated by a story and a legend that was made up about him by someone else without his permission.

The editing during Flint and Silver’s final confrontation is so clever and beautiful that I’m just gonna stop to fangirl for a moment. I absolutely adore the way we cut between their verbal argument and the sparring, comparing once again the connection between the past and the present. Attack and counter-attack, juxtaposing one fight in which they are friends with another in which they are enemies, all building up to the moment in which Silver catches up to (and potentially surpasses) Flint. The whole thing together is like a metaphor for their relationship, Silver doesn’t quite surpass Flint, the fight is interrupted before that moment, but at the end they stand truly as equals, beautifully rounded off by Silver’s conversation with Madi in which he states that he has earned Flint’s respect and so he shall do the same for Flint.

Just like the wrist and the edge of the blade, if Flint is the past then Silver is the present, and we see this connection not only through Flint and Silver themselves but also how the characters around them see it. One man asks John if Flint would have gone left or right, assuming that their minds are so closely linked that John would know (this scene was hilarious I loved it). Rogers asks Billy who does he think will prevail and Billy can’t answer, only stating that Rogers should make a move first. Silver knowingly sends men to their deaths and Israel Hands muses over how alike he and Flint have grown - the wording specifically on having learnt from Flint is so fitting considering the flashbacks are of Flint teaching Silver how to fight. Watching other characters offer to kill the other for them is also satisfying to see because Dooley and Hands both consider that Flint and Silver wouldn’t be able to kill each other if it came to it, and the two in question immediately reject the offer.  The instant Dooley suggests that John may have to die brings a flash of horror to Flint’s face. It’s surely something that Flint must have factored in at some point, and yet, to have it said aloud, to have it confirmed as a very real possibility, Flint cannot bear the idea. And then when the moment arrives Flint shoots Dooley dead without a thought, which if anything only reveals to Silver that Flint cannot kill him.

This is all just a testament to how entangled Flint and Silver are with each other, and dammit if I don’t love it because this here is the core of the show.

Stepping back from Flint and Silver for a moment, the scene with Rogers and Madi is just wonderfully horrifying, and we’re reminded again how little Rogers must have known of Eleanor if he imagines her knitting. Once again I love the editing here keeps the clicking of the needles at the forefront whilst keeping Eleanor herself out of focus, in shadow or not even in the shot at all. It’s really creepy. And Rogers saying Eleanor’s death is the pirates’ fault? Fuck you.

The difference between Madi and Silver’s beliefs however is becoming apparent again. When Silver asked her not long ago if he was enough for her, Madi didn’t answer, now here we have two episodes in the first of which John declares he will choose Madi over the war, and in the second Madi says she would choose the war. I’m not saying she’s wrong, ‘course not, Madi has always been in this for much larger reasons - despite loving Silver, she cannot forget generations of brutality that have been dealt out to her people. If anything, kudos to her for sticking to her beliefs.

I am left wondering though if Madi is Silver’s wife, how does she come to let go of this war? To settle into domesticity with Silver? It seems as if this difference in their ideologies is a rift that is just too wide to be reconciled and something they might just grow to resent each other over. Surely Madi’s end cannot be so tragic as to be forced into a life she doesn’t want?

Maybe there’s a period between Black Sails and Treasure Island in which Silver and Madi continue to coordinate efforts with Julius into freeing the new world? I’m not sure, but this might also help to explain Silver’s motives in going after the treasure all those years later? If he does it for Madi, in the sliver of a chance that the cache would help them… Or maybe he does it just because he doesn’t want anyone else to have the cache, to be consumed by the power of it and split apart because of it. I’m just speculating here, I don’t think we’ll ever find out for sure.

Extra thoughts/predictions:

- Billy, I tried to defend you. But I also feel it would be totally hypocritical of me to demonise Billy for killing his brothers when Flint and Silver are doing the exact same thing. He’s in the right place at least to get a map to the cache from Flint and go on the run, living in fear of being found by Silver.

- I am here for Madi dropping truth bombs on Rogers.

- I would have loved more from Jack, but his ‘mmhms’ are keeping me going in an episode that would otherwise be pure pain. Oh do you think that if Jack and Featherstone are close enough, they’ll just see all the smoke from the Walrus and be able to pinpoint their location that way?

- Oh Joji. Now that you’re dead, I will never understand your motives. I’m still finding it hard to believe that he would so easily and readily betray Dooley and Flint. And his goddamn face is indecipherable. I kinda wish he’d gotten to say something before he died.

- I need a moment for DeGroot as well. My steadfast grumpy old pirate. The one so wary of Flint and Silver, yet sticking with them through everything. He stuck with the Walrus and her crew, trying to save them until the end. Go Mr. DeGroot. You will be missed.

- I am hoping that Max and Anne will make it back to Nassau before the end, and maybe without Rogers’ presence and with Mrs. Mapleton on the council, they may have just found an alternative route into taking power back, especially since last week we learnt that the council’s faith in Rogers is shaky at best. Maybe MAYBE Granny Guthrie will be so impressed by what they have been able to do without a man, that she will allow Max to lead without a husband.

[antigorite]

hi! i'm kind of new to black sails (watched s1 ages ago and then picked it up again after watching ofmd) and you mentioned in one of your posts that there are lots of well written fanfictions! sth that i always have trouble with when entering a new fandom is finding good fics so i just wanted to ask if you have a rec list or something?

Oooh boy what a fantastic ask to get. I don't have a fic rec list yet, but I'll take this as an excuse to make one!

I should probably mention that the main flavour of fic I read is Flinthamiltons (James/Thomas/Miranda) angst so that's most of them. Here goes:

- The World is a Hostile Country (98k so far). If you only read one Black Sails fic in your life let it be this one. It's a post Charlestown canon divergence fic with the premise that James and Miranda go to London with Peter Ashe, going into a season 3 rewrite and it's insanely well researched. It's a series with 3 installments, the second one is currently a WIP that's updating slowly but steadily, but even if you don't like reading WIPs I'd recommend reading the first installment.

- In The Deep by @queer-crusader (72.5k). If you only read 2 Black Sails fics in your life let this be the other one. It's a greek mythology AU in which Flint goes to the underworld (which is ruled by Silver and Madi) to get Thomas back. It's a tad more intellectually challenging than your average fanfic but soo worth it.

- No Black Sails fic rec list is complete without The Unaccommadated Man (26.9k, 45.3k including sequels). Ask anyone this is one of the best fics out there. Thomas-centric, focusses on his life at the plantation and features a bunch of OCs.

- everything @dykebonny has written most notably Sherlock Holmes and the Lord in Disgrace (91.8k) which is a Sherlock Holmes crossover set in the late 19th century and is party written as John Watson's diary entries, and i might believe a good deal of it, too (9.1k) feat. autistic Flint

- The Art of Asymmetry (5.5k). London era, relationship development feat. Miranda doing life drawings. Plus everything else by that author including alive to be here (1.3k) which is Maxanne hurt/comfort for a change.

- Pictures of the past (3.9k). Early Nassau days angst from Miranda's perspective.

- a question of needs (and not rosary beads) (4.1k). London era, early relationship development. This one's a bit spicy, but in an awkward and slightly angsty way which is my favourite flavour of spicy.

- everything by palebluedot, particularly Unspoken (2.4k) which is Flint and Thomas just taling about everything post canon in a very insightfully written way.

- If all of that wasn't enough angst already, I have driftwood seletons (2.3k, feat. Thomas in Roger's role and things not working out), The unquiet grave (2.5k, feat. Flint being visited by Thomas' ghost), I would enter your sleep if I could, and guard you there by @im-the-punk-who (2.7k, feat. Flint having nightmares and Miranda comforting him) and Severing (4.5k, just general early Nassau days heavy angst).

- The sanctum series (24k) by @ceraunos, both London era and post canon relationship development, fluffy and in parts spicy, with lots of classical greek and literature references.

- Everything by @flintsmintsplint (mostly flintham London era), particularly Throw Open the Windows of Your Soul (4.8k) which is relatively fluffy.

- Fair Weather and Foul (16.9k) which is my favourite flintham modern AU! Graphic depictions of bad weather conditions in a Scottish fishing village, it's quite atmospheric.

- For some more action: Red Sky at Morning (10.5k) in which Thomas is in Charlestown and gets involved in saving Flint from the execution.

And for non flinthamilton(s) fics:

- The new world (134k, 146k including sequels). This is a bit of an odd one since it only features one Black Sails character (Flint) and the rest are OCs so it's really more original fiction inspired by Black Sails. It's also quite long and one of the few fics I've read that earned its E-rating for violence, so it's not for everyone, but it's very good and I wanted to give it a shoutout.

- i'm a black ocean leaping and wide (6k) which is Madi centric (and features my favourite rarepair, Madi/Eme) and focusses on her journey post canon.

- Ranger crew fics (17.2k) by @thegreatblondebalrogslayer. As the name says, series of short mostly fluffy fics about Jack Anne and Charles.

- blaick slias (<1k) by the same author as above which is this fandom's take on My Immortal. Has to be included here.

- you'll always paint my sky (2.3k). Maxanne, the events of late s4 from Anne's pov.

- meet me halfway to your heart (3k). Maxanne again, a fluffy and a little bit spicy 5+1.

- histoire à tiroirs (3.3k). Backstory for Max, very touching.

- Rowing (5.5k). Another Madi-centric post canon fic, including all the Madi - Max interactions you didn't now you needed.

- Flint is Eleanor's bi dad (3.5k). What the title says - some mostly fluffy queer friendship moments between Flint and Eleanor.

That's most of them I think! Now this list excludes quite a lot because the fandom's most popular pairing is Silverflint which I don't read at all, so there's lots of presumably great fic that I don't even now exists! If you wanna get into that I would suggest just browsing on AO3 or asking anyone else in the fandom (which you absolutely can do, who doesn't love talking about their favourite fics).

Happy reading!

[weasleylangs]

if you don’t know, let me go - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Summary: It’s always seemed like they’ve been dancing the line between friends and more, so why does he take a different girl to the ball? Warnings: Some swearing, pining that one character is too much of a dummy to see, a bit of angst but it eventually becomes fluff I promise, jealousy but nothing toxic, underage drinking but it’s like one line. Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in literally forever, so any feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open if you like this and want more! Also this got stupidly long fast, I can barely write book reviews on Goodreads without writing a novel so my bad, I’m sorry if you don’t like long fics. (Also cross-posted on AO3 as the tumblr tags don’t seem to be my friend right now.) 

- Also, thank you so much to @lumosandnoxwriting for answering all my questions on how to get back into writing!

Send me an ask or a dm if you would like to be added to a tag list!

---------------------------------------------------

“Do you think he’s going to ask you?” 

It’s Wednesday afternoon, late enough for class to be over but too early for dinner and Y/N’s attempt at understanding anything in her potions textbook is broken by Alicia Spinnet talking to her. Despite the fact she hadn’t said a name, Y/N knows immediately who she was talking about and she shrugs in response, closing her book and accepting that studying was not on the table for the rest of the night now the ball has been mentioned. 

“Probably not.” She deadpans. Y/N’s been trying not to get her hopes up that Fred would ask her to the Yule Ball since it was announced three days ago. Alicia’s already been asked by George- who immediately did a dramatic reenactment of some muggle proposal he’d seen in a movie as soon as Dumbledore announced it. But Fred had been more reluctant to ask anyone, despite people’s assumption that he could get anyone he pleased. Y/N only hoped this was because he was too shy of taking whatever they were from friends to lovers.

No one really understood how the outspoken and mischievous redhead became friends with the snarky Slytherin girl, but 6 years into their schooling people have stopped questioning it. They had formed an unexplainable bond the second they met on the train to Hogwarts when they were eleven years old that may have included both shouting at blood purists and now it seems to have evolved into something beyond just a friendship. 

Lingering stares, soft touches, the fact neither of them had really dated anyone else because they were too caught up with each other. Everyone, including their friends, have all placed bets on how long it’ll take for the two of them to ‘fess up and finally get together.

“What makes you say that?” Alicia asks, genuinely. She’s heard first hand the teasing George and Lee give Fred over his feelings for Y/N in the Gryffindor common room when they think they’re alone so she finds it hard to believe he hasn’t even hinted at them going together yet. 

Y/N shrugs. “I just think if he wanted to go with me, he’d ask me by now… Y’know?” Alicia can’t really deny her logic. Fred’s never been the one to shy away from being outspoken about anything really in the whole six years she’s known him, so even she can admit it’s weird that Fred hasn’t asked her.

“Maybe he just assumes you guys are going together?” Alicia starts, and before Y/N can argue back, she holds up a hand, “I’ll ask him after dinner tonight. I can guarantee Lee or George will join in and you’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!” Y/N shakes her head and laughs, and starts packing her things, mumbling about Alicia is a meddler and that she’ll see her later.

-

Y/N’s walking to the Great Hall for dinner when it happens. Adrian Pucey, star quidditch chaser for the Slytherin team slinks up next to her and scares her enough to almost drop the books she has clutched in her hands. She’s never had a problem with Adrian- their parents are in similar friendship circles so she sees him at family friend events outside of school, but she’s never considered him a friend either, which is why his approach to her is so odd.

“Sorry about that,” he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as Y/N clutches her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” she starts, “You’re just very quiet. I’m used to being almost tackled to the ground when I see friends.” She laughs, but she doesn’t miss the awkward tension in the air and she can’t help but assume what’s coming next. 

“I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you don’t have a date to the ball… If you’d like to go with me?” 

Y/N gulps. She knows she shouldn’t be putting all her eggs in the Fred Weasley marked basket, but she can’t help but remember her conversation with Alicia only an hour ago.

‘You’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!’

Adrian senses her hesitation and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s almost laughing. “You’re waiting for one of Weasley twins to ask you, aren’t you? Fred, right?” She hates how easily he caught on.

“Adrian, I- Ugh, I’m sorry. But yeah… I am.” She feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at someone she’s not even friends with pointing it out. She can’t help but think maybe this is a sign though, that if everyone else is expecting it, why hasn’t he asked her yet? 

“No, it’s all good. But the offers on the table if he’s too pussy to ask you out.” He gives a kind smile as he walks off to catch up with Marcus Flint who’s drilling Malfoy about quidditch plays.

She exhales slowly and finally makes it to the Great Hall. She scans the tables looking for her closest friend in Slytherin- Daphne Greengrass and once she finds her, she quickly makes her way over to her. Dinner is relatively uneventful since she’s sitting with her house, and George manages to catch her eye at one point and mouths ‘miss you’ to which she laughs and says she misses him back.

She’s about to get up and leave when the last thing she expects to happen, happens. She hears Ron exclaim loudly that Fred can’t make fun of him for not having a date because he doesn’t have one either. Y/N feels her heart start to race, knowing if anyone’s going to prove a point to Ron, it’ll be Fred Weasley. She doesn’t hear what Fred’s reply is but Harry and Ron both scoff, and one of them says ‘ask a girl out if it’s so easy then.’ 

Y/N’s about to approach the Gryffindor table when George’s eye catches her, and he shakes his head. Fred has already thrown a scrunched-up piece of paper at Angelina and her heart sinks. 

“Angelina! Will you go to the ball with me?” 

As Angelina laughs and says yes to Fred, it feels like the whole Great Hall is either watching their altercation or watching Y/N in pity. Her heart now feels like it’s in her throat, and she needs to get out of the room before she cries or yells at Fred. She pivots on her heel and is met face-to-face with Daphne, who nods in silent agreement that they’re going back to their dorm. 

Y/N is halfway down the long tables with the door in her sights when she spots Adrian out of the peripheral of her eye. She can tell he’s looking at her in pity and in a weird way, she feels the need to show defiance against Fred Weasley. She needs to show she doesn’t need pity, especially right now, that she can get a date herself. So she stops in front of the Slytherin quidditch team and slightly smirks. 

“That offer to the ball still on the table?” 

-

Daphne spends the night taking Y/N’s mind off the Weasley family. They sit in their dorm together, once again trying to study for potions which eventually leads into ball talk yet again. Daphne can tell the idea of going to the ball with anyone who isn't Fred is unnerving for Y/N, but there’s no backing down now.

“That was kind of a badass move, y’know?” She starts, treading lightly as they eventually reach the elephant in the room, ‘Asking Adrian after what happened.”

It doesn’t feel badass to Y/N. She feels like she’s cheating on the redhead that owns her heart, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Fred clearly has no form of feelings for her and she’s decided to get over him. 

“It’s nothing…” She starts and she sees Daphne’s eyebrows raise. They’ve been roommates every year since they started school together so they’re both aware this is a big lie. “I didn’t want to go alone. Everyone else had dates already and Adrian’s nice. Plus, he did ask me before…”

Daphne nods, not wanting to press further. “Have you got a dress yet?” It had said on their packing list for the school year to bring a dress or dress robes so everyone’s already well prepared. Y/N nods and walks towards the closet before pulling out a floor-length silver gown with lace detailing. She smiles shyly as Daphne gasps in awe. 

“Eat your heart out, Fred Weasley!” For the first time all night, Y/N laughs. She knows she’s going to look stunning in the dress and while she has no ill resentment towards Angelina for agreeing to go with Fred, she can’t help but feel a little bit coy knowing Fred’s going to see her in it. 

- 

She’s sitting at her desk in Transfiguration the next day when he finally acknowledges her presence. She’s twiddling her quill in her fingers, dreading the moment the troublemaker waltzes into the class. His usual seat is the one next to her, while George and Lee sit in front of them but she can only hope Alicia takes the hint and sits with her before Fred does.

She doesn’t get her wish. She’s about two seconds away from dozing off when the seat screeches against the hardwood flooring below them and she looks to her left to see Fred smirking.

“Hi love,'' he starts, the nickname not feeling out of ordinary, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He says, and it’s true. He hadn’t seen her since class yesterday. He had looked for her before dinner to tell her about the prank he’d pulled on Filch with George while she was studying and he’d barely seen her during dinner. 

Her heart starts to speed up at the nickname, and she forces down the bile she feels growing in her throat. “Yeah, I just ate dinner and went to bed yesterday. Been studying for potions. Sixth year is hard.” She’s trying to be short and sweet and maybe a little blunt but Fred doesn’t pick up on it. “Heard you asked Angelina to the ball too.” She’s hoping to whoever’s listening to her prayers that the jealousy isn’t evident in her voice and by the dopey smile that grows on Fred’s face, her prayers were answered.

“Yeah! Ron was being such a prat, telling me I couldn’t make fun of him for…” But she drowns his voice out. It might be a bitch move, but she really doesn’t need to hear the who, where, when and why he asked Angelina out. It’s clear to Y/N that Fred didn’t even notice her existence at dinner and that stings more than she’d like to admit. 

She can barely concentrate during class. Fred has never really shown to care about any academic success, so he spends the entire period trying to entertain Y/N and get her to speak to him but she’s being stubborn and Fred can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He starts to think maybe she’s just had a bad day, but when the bell rings and she storms off without even saying goodbye to him he’s dumbfounded.

“Trouble in paradise, brother?” George teases when he sees the frown adorned on Fred’s face. 

“Have I done anything to upset Y/N?” He questions and he sees the way George and Lee both give each other a look. They know something he doesn’t and that leaves a feeling of uneasiness in his chest. Y/N and himself have always been closer than her and George and especially her and Lee. He was there for her when her parents were fighting constantly when she was 11 and when Marcus Flint started bullying her in 3rd year. He was even there when she cried to him last year about the guy she loved and how he was so stupidly blind to her feelings and while she didn’t give a name, Fred was dying to go punch whoever it was for not realising he had his best friend’s heart.

“If you have, it’s not up for us to tell you, mate.” Lee states and he hides behind George when he notices the scowl on Fred’s face. Lee knows better than to get between him and Y/N, but he isn’t wrong. 

“Look, Alicia said she was fine when they left the library yesterday evening,” George starts, and he knows he shouldn’t be lying to his brother and best friend, but it’s not a huge lie, and maybe it’ll push his oblivious brother to realise what he did to upset his best friend, “She was at dinner last night when you asked Angie to the ball and then she went to her dorm with Daphne. Heard something about her saying yes to Adrian Pucey asking her to the ball…” While George made extra emphasis on the fact Y/N witnessed Fred asking Angelina to the ball, Fred’s eyes glaze over in rage when George mentions Adrian and he has a feeling his twin has got the wrong idea.

“I bet Adrian did something to her. Fuck him, honestly.” And before George and Lee can stop him, Fred’s stalking out of the classroom with Adrian Pucey in his sights.

- 

Fred doesn’t find Adrian until later that afternoon, standing on the pitch and clad in his quidditch robes, yelling at someone who Fred assumes is Montague. He thinks now is probably a bad time to confront him, but he's blinded by the thought that he’s hurt Y/N. 

“Pucey!” He shouts and when Adrian turns around, he chuckles and smirks at Fred. He was expected this later rather than sooner, specifically during dinner, but he guesses now will have to do. 

“What?” He asks, but they both know why he’s here and he’s just enjoying riling Fred up. 

“What did you do Y/N?” Adrian scoffs at this and shakes his head which confuses Fred. “What did I do to Y/N?” Fred stands his ground, chest puffed up. Adrian might be a fair bit shorter than Fred but Adrian hasn’t got anything to be scared of. Sure he’s seen Fred throw a punch or two and he’s definitely been on the receiving end of a bludger from the Weasley during a game, but he knows he isn’t the one that hurt Y/N here. 

“I think you should be asking yourself that, mate. Y/N only agreed to going to the ball with me after you asked Angelina out right in front of her.” This causes Fred to look at Adrian in confusion and Adrian laughs at Fred again. He’s confused, why would asking Angelina out hurt Y/N? 

It turns out he said that out loud, because two seconds later Adrian is responding to him, “Because she was expecting you to ask her, Weasley.” 

Adrian doesn’t even wait for Fred’s reply before stalking off to the Slytherin change rooms and Fred’s left standing on the pitch, wondering why the ache in his chest is almost debilitating at the thought of hurting Y/N and questioning why he feels the need to throw up knowing she’s happily going with Adrian Pucey. 

-

Fred’s next port of call is finding Y/N. After his talk with Adrian, he needs to find out why she expected him to ask her to the ball. He would’ve happily gone with her, but to Fred, she hadn’t even dropped a single hint at wanting to go with him and when she’s finally located, she’s in the library with Daphne. 

“This is my exit cue,” Daphne mutters as she notices the redhead roaming around the library looking for Y/N. She doesn’t even have a moment to question Daphne before the seat in front of her is suddenly occupied by the last person she was hoping to see again.

“Why are you going with Pucey?” Is the first thing that leaves Fred’s mouth, and it wasn’t what Y/N was expecting. She splutters, only for a few seconds, before eventually replying.

“He asked me.” 

Fred’s eyebrows furrow, but didn’t Pucey say she wanted to go with him? “A little birdie said you wanted to go with me. So, how come you’re going with him.”

Now Y/N scoffs and Fred can’t help but notice how many people are scoffing at him today just for asking questions and it’s getting annoying. “You didn’t ask me. He did. So, I said yes. Don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” She’s intentionally being short, hopefully not spilling anything about her feelings for the boy in front of her. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to go with me, Y/N. How was I supposed to know?” At this, Y/N goes from feeling hurt to angry and she can’t explain why her hands start to shake. 

“How were you supposed to know?” She exclaims loudly which causes her to receive a rather nasty ‘sh’ from Madam Pince and a few O.W.L students surrounding her. 

“Have you seen the way we act around each other Fred?” She’s now whisper yelling and the confused look on Fred’s face as she says this just aggravates her further and she’s convinced no one is this daft and he’s pushing her buttons on purpose. “Because everyone thinks we’re fucking dating already, Fred. You have to constantly be touching me, we’re always together, you call me darling and love and you kiss me on the forehead when I fucking bring you sugar quills from Hogsmeade because they’re your favourite and whenever you have spare money you always buy me Honeydukes chocolate because you said you like seeing me blush when you buy me things. You’re telling me now that we’re just friends?”

If the ache in Fred’s chest was almost debilitating on the quidditch pitch earlier, right now it feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched, pieces of her hair are falling out of her bun that’s resting on top of her head and, worst of all, Fred’s noticed the tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes.

She sighs before continuing, trying to compose herself so he doesn’t see her crying over him, unaware he’s already noticed the tears threatening to fall. Her voice is sad and broken, and it feels like the ending point for her. 

“I was just stupid enough to assume this year was the year we would finally admit we’re more than friends, Freddie. But I guess all this time it’s been one-sided. I hope you have a good time at the ball with Angelina.” 

Fred grabs her wrist as she starts to pack up her things and looks at her, scanning her face for any form of emotion. “Let me go, Fred.” She looks at him with pleading eyes and he lets go of the grasp he has on her wrist.

Fred doesn’t try to stop her again as she hastily packs up her things and he sadly watches her leave the library without turning to look at him. 

-

Y/N doesn’t care if it’s considered dramatic, but she lays in bed and cries for the rest of the day. While she hasn’t gone through a literal break-up, it feels like her friendship with Fred is over. At least, she’s decided, it’s over until she gets over her feelings for him. 

Daphne tries everything in her power to comfort her. She rubs her back, plays with her hair and even puts on ABBA to try and get Y/N to dance just to cheer her up. Y/N feels horrible she’s basically conned Daphne into babysitting her breakdown but Daphne constantly reassures her it’s okay. 

“Do you want me to go beat him up? I might be short and weak and he’s the size of a tree but I could take him.” Y/N sniffles a laugh at this, and smiles. She’s truly grateful for everything Daphne’s been doing for her and she makes a mental note to get her an extra special Christmas present next time she goes to Hogsmeade. 

However, it turns out essentially ending the friendship with Fred ends her friendships with most of the Gryffindors. She was expecting this, but when George can’t even meet her eye in class her heart breaks into even smaller pieces. George has always been like a brother to her, someone she could tell anything too without worry of being judged. He was the first person she told when she realised she liked Fred and Y/N was the first person, besides Fred, that George told his feelings for Alicia for. 

Y/N feels alone but she’s stubborn so she refuses to show it. She sits with Daphne in every class, essentially kicking poor Cassius Warrington who’s been pining after Daphne for 3 years into a different spot in class and she sometimes even sits with Adrian during lunch. It turns out they have a lot more in common than just the fact they’re in Slytherin and pure-bloods and Y/N’s pain in her chest is slowly but surely disappearing. 

While her feelings for Fred still exist, her heart slowly feels like it’s being mended. It’s only when she spots Fred sulking during lunch one day that the ache returns. She was usually the one who he went too when feeling bad- him being too embarrassed to go to George. She hopes he’s okay, but she shakes the idea of approaching him, knowing he’s got Angelina to keep him company. The pang in her chest stays a little bit longer that day. 

-

The Yule Ball arrives quicker than expected and Y/N and Daphne spend all day getting ready with a bunch of other Slytherin students. It’s nice, while they don’t all usually get along, the house loyalty between them is unmistakable. 

Most of them are acutely aware of Y/N’s ‘Weasley Situation’ and while some of them give her pity looks, most of the younger girls have expressed their jealousy that she’s going with Adrian. This makes her laugh and shake her head and she often replies that boys aren’t all that and no boy is worth being jealous over. She feels like a wise mother almost, never wanting them to feel the way she’s felt the past few weeks.

Daphne and Y/N arrive at the Great Hall together, giggling about how bad Y/N is at walking in heels and placing bets on how quick they’re going to come off. While Daphne is counting her galleons in her purse to confirm the bet, Y/N catches a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. He looks so handsome, his dress robes a mixture of gold and black and she can’t help but think how well they’d go together. But when she looks at Angelina she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Angelina is stunning, and there’s no doubt about it. She’s in a floor-length dark purple gown that compliments her skin perfectly and Y/N thinks if Fred was going with anyone to the ball, she’s glad it’s Angelina. 

Cassius and Adrian soon appear by the girls and take their arms into the Great Hall that’s been transformed to look like a winter wonderland. The roof tonight is bewitched to look like a winter, snowy day and Y/N can’t help but admire it. She’s grown up with magic her entire life, but she can’t help but constantly be amazed.

Adrian pulls a flask out of his dress robes jacket which makes Y/N snort and he smiles happily at her. Of course he snuck Firewhiskey into the Ball. The action reminds her of something Fred would do and she shakes her head, trying to get the boy out of her mind, tonight of all nights.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Adrian states as he takes a swig of the flask, and she feels her cheeks heat up. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t scrub up so badly either, Pucey.” 

“A dance, m’lady?” He jokingly bows to Y/N and she smiles while she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. As Adrian twirls Y/N around the dance floor, albeit messily because neither of them paid attention in dance classes held by Snape of all people, she forgets about the redhead who’s stare is burning holes into the back of her head.

“You’re a shit date, y’know.” Angelina laughs and Fred’s broken out of his trance. “Shit, Angie, I’m so sorry.” 

Angelina isn’t wrong. She’s a smart girl, and she’s well aware of Fred’s longing stares towards the Slytherin girl. “Did you know? That you wanted to go with her?” Angelina questions, out of sheer curiosity. Even she was shocked when Fred asked her, but she was too dumbfounded when he asked and with everyone watching at dinner, the pressure to say yes was immense but it was not worth all the pain and heartache she’s watched her two friends go through. 

“At the time? No, definitely not. She’s…” He trails off as he tries to find the right words, “She’s always been there, y’know? I just assumed she’d be in my life forever and what we had was what we’d always be… It felt normal, like I didn’t feel the way I feel about her with you, or Katie or Alicia but it felt like that’s how you’re meant to feel about your girl best friend?” 

He looks over at them again, and the gross feeling of jealousy rises in his throat. “But then she said yes to Pucey, and all I can think about is how no one should be holding her but me and that he'll walk her all the way back to her dorm tonight and probably kiss her and I feel like throwing up, and...” He pauses and looks at Angelina and the pity in her eyes is obvious. “And you don’t think about your best friend like this.” 

Angelina watches in pity as Fred clearly drowns his sorrows in pumpkin juice and she drags him onto the dance floor. She’s not letting Fred have a bad night and she refuses to have one as well. Fred is one of her best friends, and even though she might not be the girl he wishes he was here with, she’s determined to cheer him up somehow. 

Fred finally starts to have a good time when he spots George slyly leading Alicia out of the Great Hall and he loudly wolf whistles causing a red hue to form on both their cheeks and George to flip Fred the bird as they leave. Angelina spots Y/N grab her purse across the room while Fred’s distracted and she quietly leaves just after George and Alicia.

Alone.

“Y/N just left, Fred. Alone.” Fred’s confused why Angelina is telling him this when he looks over at Daphne and Adrian, who both look at him like ‘Go you fucking idiot’ and before he can even mutter a goodbye to his friends, he’s out the door almost as fast as George was.

-

He finds Y/N sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She’s looking up at the stars and Fred stars to recall last summer when she visited The Burrow. She spent all night trying to point out constellations to Fred and as he watches her mutter to herself, Fred wonders how he didn’t realise that they were in love this entire time.

He clears his throat, careful not to startle Y/N and when she turns Fred can see the hesitation in her face as she quickly goes to jump up and leave. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen the prime make-out spot of the night.” She awkwardly laughs but then quickly realises Fred is alone. “Nevermind… Where’s Angelina?” 

Fred shrugs, and sits down on the bench she was sitting on originally. Y/N stands awkwardly before sitting down next to him. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s missed being close to him. The warmth that radiates off him despite it being the middle of winter causes her to shuffle just that slightly bit closer to him and Fred can’t help but smile. 

“You look beautiful tonight. I know Adrian probably told you already, at least I hope he did, but you deserve to know.” Fred could feel himself rambling and he doesn’t miss the blush that rises across Y/N’s neck and cheeks. It’s the exact same blush that appears whenever he buys her chocolates and his heart soars. 

“Thanks Freddie,” the nickname feels foreign on her tongue, “you look pretty handsome yourself. I hope Angelina told you.” She retaliates and Fred hates it. He hates the awkwardness between them. He wants nothing more to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but they feel like strangers. 

“Thanks,” he laughs and Y/N looks at him confused. “Did you have a good night?”

“Can we not have this awkward small talk? I’m sure Angelina’s waiting for you somewhere.” Fred’s taken aback by her abruptness and stares at her for a few seconds. “What?” She asks when she notices Fred looking at her like she has nine heads.

“Angelina’s not waiting for me. Is Adrian waiting for you?” He asks but he doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and he truly doesn’t want to know if another man is waiting for her to sweep her off her feet and walk back to the Slytherin common room. But when she shakes her head, Fred lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

“I need to apologise.” He blurts out and Fred wants to smack himself in the head. This was not the romantic moment he had envisioned in his head as he followed her outside into the courtyard. “I need to apologise for a lot of things. Mostly, for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am, and also for not asking you to the ball and for ruining our friend-” 

“You didn’t ruin our friendship.” She cuts him off but she doesn’t know what else to say. “You didn’t. I did, if anything.” Fred has to stop himself from starting an argument on who ruined the friendship but he wants to backtrack. Did Y/N just ignore him confessing his love to her? 

“Well, I’m still sorry for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am?” He tries again sheepishly and Y/N gives him a double-take. She heard him the first time but she was convinced it was just her ears playing tricks on her or Fred being a menace. After all, this is Fred Weasley in front of her, he’s always looking for a joke and as she’s about to accuse him of pulling a sick, twisted prank on her, she looks at him properly.

And he’s looking as serious as he did the day he told her he plans to open a joke shop with George after they graduate. 

“You’re in love with me?” She asks quietly and her heart is racing again. She thinks back to the day she accidentally confessed to Fred and how she’s spent the last few weeks trying to fall out of love with him just for him to admit he’s fallen in love with her. “Fred, if this is some sick and twisted joke I will never forgive you.” 

Fred almost looks hurt at this, that she thinks he’s capable of something that cruel. So instead of speaking, he softly cups her face in both his hands and runs his thumbs across her cheekbones in a loving manner. He looks her directly in the eyes and Y/N doesn’t think she’s breathed in the last 30 seconds.

She’s been craving being this close to Fred for as long as she can remember. Their lingering touches were never this intimate and right now, she feels like she can look into Fred’s eyes and see into his core, his soul. And he can do the same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, and Y/N gasps before nodding, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers. 

As he leans in his eyes flutter close, as do her’s. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people in her life, but nothing could ever compare to the way she feels right now. The love and adoration Fred is pouring into this kiss almost brings tears to her eyes and she can only hope he can feel the love and adoration she has for him back.

Their lips move in perfect synchrony, neither of them pushing each other too far, but when Y/N drags her fingers through Fred’s hair and he lets out a groan, she can’t help but pull away and giggle. 

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.” Fred’s arms are now wrapped around her middle and he’s leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Now he has her in his arms, he’s never letting her go. 

“I’ve missed having you make me laugh, Freddie.” She says sincerely and it’s Fred’s turn to blush. He knows they need to eventually leave their little bubble of happiness they finally have but he doesn’t want too. But he knows they need to talk about what happened, about them, what they are and Fred so desperately hopes this means Y/N is his. 

She senses Fred’s thinking and she looks up at him, doe-eyed and innocent and Fred’s heart melts. 

“Stop overthinking.” She mutters, running her hand through his long hair again and Fred almost looks like a cat purring as he feels her fingernails rake across his scalp and he leans into her touch. “Can’t help it. Don’t want to lose you again.” 

Her heart pounds, this is all she’s ever wanted to hear and now she wants to hear it every single day. So she tells him exactly that.

“I’m yours, Freddie. As long as you’re mine? If you don’t know what you want it’s okay, I promise we can take it slow-” Fred cuts her off, laughing as he kisses her again and he feels how warm Y/N’s cheeks are, as she blushes over Fred silencing her with a kiss. When he pulls back, her face is flush, her hair is falling out of her bun. It reminds Fred of that day in the library, except this time, the happiness in her face is unmistakably there, and finally he’s the cause of it. 

“Of course, I’m yours, darling. I’m never letting you go.” 

- 

Late the next morning, when Y/N is trying her best to sneak out of the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory with a dark purple hickey adorning her neck, she spots three 4th years whose names she doesn’t even know, giving Ron Weasley five galleons. 

Ron sees her, and smirks. “My bet was at the ball. Thanks, Y/N, you and Freddie boy have made me a very rich man.”

 ---------------------------------------------------

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Does Archaeology - Part 4

(As before, if you’re only seeing this part 4, the rest of them have the tag KyidylCL)

THE ARTEFACTS

Ok, so I’ve talked about the site and what we’ve been digging in and such, but I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I like lab work exponentially more than field work.  So I am the one who has been processing the vast majority of the finds and ergo have lots of stuff.  That’s why I sometimes make jokes about the stuff in my basement - I’m storing the majority of it here in my basement.  I’ve gotten the question before about ownership, so here is how that works.  The dig is on private land so anything we get technically belongs to the owner of the land.  Now, as far as I know, he has no interest in keeping any of it so it’ll likely end up in the hands of the arch society, who will basically just be custodians of it but not owners.  It might end up in a museum, too.  I don’t really know, but that determination won’t be made until we’re finished, and not by me.  

So every site has its own sort of categories of stuff that you find depending on who lived there (although for ease, archaeologists often categorize this stuff based on location and time - more on that later.).  For our site the majority of it falls into these categories: animal bone, shell, lithics, pottery, charcoal, modern contaminants, and artefacts.  And, to lend a bit of clarity here...lithics are anything made of rock.  So they include fire cracked rocks, flakes from stone tool making, material that was used in construction, material that was crushed to make temper for pottery paste (more on that later, too.), etc.  If it came from a rock it’s a lithic.  

And imma tell you a secret: I hate lithics.  Everyone has their thing, their category of human refuse that they simply do not like.  A prof of mine hated teeth and pottery.  That’s just how it is, and mine is lithics.  I think they’re boring, I can’t tell a flake from a blade, I don’t give a single fuck what material they are, I don’t care about the style or craftsmanship...I just don’t care.  I call them all rocks, and I do it so much that everyone on the site has started accidentally calling them rocks, too, which amuses me.  Rocks, to an archaeologist, means “stone that wasn’t altered or used by people”.  They’re worthless.  Not that I think lithics are worthless - far from it - I just really hate them and this site has so.  goddamned.  many.  Lucky for me, we have a Rock Guy aka someone who really loves lithics and actually has gotten pretty good at flint knapping and just, y’know, is really into rocks.  

And to clarify about artefacts.  When you’re out in the field everything you find is either an artefact or a find.  The collection of these things is called an assemblage.  When you’re doing lab work and sorting through it all later on an artefact is, well...like a thing.  I’m explaining this poorly....it’s a complete object with a specific function.  So, a whole pot = artefact, broken pieces = sherds (not shards, sherds.). Complete arrowhead = artefact, flakes or a broken one = lithic.  Artefacts also tend to be somewhat unique, or at least something you don’t have a lot of.  They don’t always have to be complete, anything that is a specific object can go in here.  Like, for example, this piece of pipe we found: 

To recap, we’ve got pottery, charcoal, lithics, shell, bone (animal - we haven’t found human. But I’m just gonna say bone.), and artefacts.  If you are sensitive to things like that, this is your warning that this post is going to have pictures of animal bone and you should scroll quickly.  

Now, for reference, this is what it all looks like before I clean it and after it’s been dying out for a day or two (the ground has natural moisture, so I basically just open the bags and let them air out.): 

And, yes....I am cleaning them off on an actual antique blotter with real silver edges that my mom gave me for this express purpose.  A factoid I’m only sharing because it amuses me in that sort of “bet they never envisioned this use for this thing” sort of way.  Normally, if I was in a real lab, you’d do this over a metal tray.  When you’re working with an assemblage you never hold it over empty space, you always hold it over the bench and preferably over whatever your work surface is.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t dropped my fair share of stuff anyway, but most of it just lands on the work surface and not the floor, which is why you hold it over a work surface.  But anyway, as you can see, it just looks like a brown, dirty mess.  I usually do a quick sort of the stuff I know for sure what it is and then I wash it with a soft toothbrush and some water.  The rocks I just submerge and swoosh around because they’re rocks and I can’t really damage them and there’s SO FRIKKIN MANY that I refuse to clean them individually.  

So now that you’ve gotten through that long-winded but necessary explanation of terms, where are we at? Since I’m a bioarchaeologist and I prefer things that were once alive to the general detritus of human society, we’re gonna start with the bone.  Specifically, we’re gonna start with how I know those two pits from yesterday’s post are one pit.  This is how: 

This is a deer bone.  Don’t ask me which one bc I’m really not good at ID’ing species and animal anatomy, but it’s a leg bone of some kind.  See how it’s broken? One piece was found in one hole and the other piece was in the other.  Clearly it’s the same animal, ergo the pits are related to each other.  The vast majority of what came out of that particular feature was bone, with the rest being charcoal and the occasional pot sherd.  This means it was probably used for cooking and not as a garbage pit. Also there was food in it, if you recall the cooking accident from yesterday.  but sometimes y’know, stuff falls into the fire pit or it’s put in there as a way of disposing of it.  

But wait, I have more cool animal bones!! 

Ok, so there’s this one: 

This bone has a special place in my heart. IDK what species it is (I *think* it’s a fragment of deer long bone.), but that’s not why it’s cool.  This single bone is strong evidence for the presence of dogs.  =D See that circular mark on the right? That is the impression of a canine tooth from a carnivore.  Human teeth can’t make those marks in bones - our teeth aren’t strong enough to do significant damage to bone, and anyway we tend to crack bones open with rocks (a form of damage called percussion marks.) and not with our teeth.  Those other longer scratch marks are also likely from chewing, not butchery, because they’re in the right places and they’re the right shape.  Now we know this was a settlement, and this bone was found smack in the middle surrounded by human detritus and not on the fringes or outskirts.  There were no domesticated felines in the Americas at the time BC this is from the lower pre-contact level, so what’s really the only carnivore that would be wandering around a human settlement? Dogs.  I love this kinda stuff because it’s so easy see them chilling around the fire pit, talking and eating, teasing whomever it was that spilled dinner, and then tossing the bones to their dogs to gnaw on after dinner.  It’s just such a people kind of thing, you know? All from one small, circular mark.  I actually found more on later bones that came out of other places, so it’s pretty safe to say there were dogs living here with their people even though we have found neither people nor dogs.  

So here’s another cool bone: 

Again, no idea what species it is bc I’m not a zooarch (yes, there are archaeologists that specialize in animals and wooooo boy can they tell you a LOT about migration and eating habits of people.). It’s about the size of half my thumb, IE, not large.  This one is cool, and it’s the only one I have like this, because of that notch you can see vertically in the image on the right hand side.  I don’t know what it was for, but I DO know that it was an intentionally made modification to the bone.  Those striations aren’t natural - natural bone is smooth or has a very specific texture and this isn’t that.  It’s probably not damage done to the bone after it was deposited in the archaeological record.  It has the same patina as the majority of the rest of the bone, which you can compare to the lighter area there on the right hand end of the bone.  That lighter area does not have the patina of age that the rest of the bone does, and is the result of damage in a much more recent time - probably as we were taking it out of the ground.  Small bones are fragile.  So someone gouged this channel intentionally in this bone, either because they were going to use it as decoration or it served some purpose as a tool.  I’m not really sure what though.  Hell, they could have just been bored and fidgeting after eating.  Either way, it’s a human modification to this bone that has nothing to do with cooking or consumption (damage from human consumption is cracks and breaks, not scrapes.).  It could also be a butchery mark, although it’s a bit deep for that.  Butchery marks are there from separation of meat from bone - they’re usually just shallow scrapes.  

Ok, last cool bone I’m gonna show you.  Well, bones, plural.  

Ok so this is part of the same assemblage as the ones above, and if I remember correctly these were the ones that came out of that pit.  You can see the same bone with the canine tooth mark there in the center.  There’s also some interesting things like some pottery on the left and a couple teeth off to the right (one is a deer and I *think* that curved on is a squirrel.), but the really interesting thing is the series of 3 shiny bones that are in the center.  There’s a lot of ways to cook meat, and they all do different things to bones.  You will often find the dry, brown looking ones like you can see here in the non-shiny bones. That’s like...your basic “this bone had meat on it when it was cooked”. Then you’ll see ones that are black, and that’s “this bone probably didn’t have meat when it was cooked, or someone tossed it back in the fire when they were done”. Lastly, you’ll see white bone, and that’s a bone that has been burned at a high temperature for a long time.  Usually it’s done on purpose (you can use burned, powdered bone to make stuff.).  

But the shiny ones were in a soup.  And the reason I know that is *because* they’re shiny.  Bones, especially old ones, aren’t shiny.  I mean...you can see that.  You have to do stuff to ‘em.  And bones are porous, but those weren’t.  They felt like hard plastic. And they get that way by being boiled.  The shiny patina is what we call pot polish - they were stirred in the soup while it was cooking and rubbed against the side of the pot and each other, and it gives them a smoother texture.  

All of these collections of bones tell us what and how they ate things.  I know from what I can ID here (which isn’t everything, trust me.) that they ate a lot of deer and wild turkey (we have an entire almost completely intact turkey long bone.). There is also, I believe, squirrel (I found a portion of a skull and jaw that I’m pretty sure belong to a squirrel), and an assortment of other small rodents and birds.  Lots of birds.  Bird bone is really distinctive, it’s light and the spongy bone has a distinct texture.  A zooarchaeologist can look at bones like this and ID species and age, and from there tell you what time year something was probably killed.  Societies that hunted a lot tended to do it seasonally so that they wouldn’t damage the populations.  Plus especially with fish and stuff they have very specific growing cycles and short lifespans, so they can also tell you a lot about where the people were hunting and when.  Like certain fish will only spawn in certain places, so it’s really informative.  Zooarchs are so important and there just aren’t enough of them.  

Anyway, there are other cool things in the bones but I’m trying to strike a balance here between too much and not enough and I really love bone so I’m going to stop here for today.  Tomorrow is going to be other artefacts (yeah, sadly, even lithics, lol), and what they tell us about the site and the people who lived there.   As an aside: if anyone has any like just general “how do they know this?” sort of questions about history and archaeology those would be fun to answer.  I love to tell people how we do things but I don’t just wanna infodump.  I DO want to explain procedure in what I hope is a readable way because I think understanding how we make the sausage will help people have more trust in science.  So if you have any questions, please, send asks.  If I don’t know the answer I’ll research it or pass it on to someone who does.  

[arrivisting]

some v. rough writing from yesterday I’ll probably not use in the end

They were standing back to back in the camp, surrounded by enemies: by furious Elven and Eldar, by accusing eyes familiar and strange. There was blood on Maedhros’s sword. He hadn’t wanted to kill the guard – he’d barely seemed of age, blond like so few of the Noldor were, wide-eyed. His mouth had opened in a shout above the new slit in his throat, then disgorged blood rather than sound.

There were people all around them, shouting. Someone was crying. They pressed around him and his brother, but didn’t touch them. Did they fear their swords, or fear them, like a foul contagion belched out of Angband?

They were going to have to cut a way out. He could tell Maglor knew it. His brother was stiff and alert behind him. They couldn’t hope to win. They’d fight anyway. They’d fight these angry Elves he didn’t dare look at too closely, lest he recognise them; they were trained to deliver death. This crowd might hold back. Maedhros and Maglor would cut their way out, killing until they were killed in turn; until someone in the crowd got over squeamishness about slaying their own kind and put an end to them.

Maedhros was tired. He hoped they killed him before they killed Maglor, which all but made certain they wouldn’t.

“Fall back,” said a clear voice. It had the bright quality of a Valarin bell, the kind that had rung out whenever the Mingling began, back in Valinor, before the darkness. “Do not harm or hinder them.”

“They have the Jewels,” someone said, and in their voice was grief. “They killed again for them. They slipped into our tents like shadows and left like thieves.”

“They are indeed thieves and murderers,” the Ainu said. Eonwe, with his clarion throat and golden skin, his eyes too light a blue to be natural. His pale hair clasped the shape of his skull in licks like feathers. There were no pupils to his eyes. “But judgment upon them is for the lords and ladies of the Māchananaškad: it is not for you, nor yet even for me.”

The crowd had parted for him as he spoke, falling back before the faint light of his inviolate flesh. They flinched from touching his silver armour or his white cloak with their imperfect hands, their rough bodies.

“The Jewels are our own,” said Maglor. His rich voice seemed less beautiful than usual, coming after Eonwe. “Our father’s. How can we steal what is ours already, unjustly withheld?”

“You have already had my answer on that,” said Eonwe.

There was light enough now that Maedhros could see, in the silver radiance of Eonwe’s form, in the red flare of the torches, faces he recognised, if he dared pick them out.

He didn’t want to.

They were pressing forward, however, through the crowd, into the empty spaces left by others falling back in obedience. There were faces he knew from brighter days in Himring and in the Gap, in Thargelion and in Himlad, from the long bleak years after the Tears. People he had trusted, and led into battle, and lived with side by side; who had turned from his banner after Sirion. Some had merely left, streaming away like lost pearls of mercury: that they had come in the end to Balar was to be expected. Those looked at their former lords with sorrow, with horror.

The ones who had not only turned away but had taken up their arms to protect the innocents of Sirion from their lords: there was horror there, certainly, but a certain hard conviction which wasn’t exactly pleasure. They had seen the end of the road. They had swerved in time. They had been right to be foresworn.

There was one of Turgon’s lords, clutching a spear. Maedhros remembered leaving him wounded but alive after Sirion. They’d killed another one then, hadn’t they? Egalmoth, who’d still been wearing his silly helmet, all gleaming silver, twisting back into a crest shaped almost like a flower.

The last lord of Gondolin’s eyes were accusing.

And there was his cousin, Artanis, with her golden hair half-pinned like she’d risen from sleep, her eyes hard.

He turned from her to one of the flint-eyed Sindar looking at him and his brother as though they were Orcs out of legend: monsters who had fallen first on Doriath and then on Sirion, sawing at the thin silver line of their royal family until it fractured and snapped. That was fair, he thought. He could bear that judgment.

Then – no. No.

“Oh,” Maglor said, in desperate negation. “Oh, no; oh, why did they have to be here?”

That was Maglor: still believing, despite himself, that things might be all right. Still believing that they might sue the Valar for pardon, and one day be forgiven. Still not sure why every chance turned in their hands, why every arrow went astray: why everything was always the worst it could be, every shade of softness extinguished by darkness.

Of course they were all there.

Elrond and Elros. Half-grown, halfway between Elves and men, looking white and shocked. Their sweet, fierce fosterlings with their starling-bright eyes, still wearing their Feanorian motley. It hurt that they were still dressed in drab, little eaglets in sparrow’s guise. They should have been hung with gold and jewels at last, like the princes they were. Why weren’t they?

Celebrimbor, a ghost from the past with their father’s face and eyes entirely his own. The only one of them to escape the net of the Doom. He was reproach itself, the example they could not – would not? – follow. And he was weeping, quietly, and dashing the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist as though they shamed him.

And, coming forth to stand at Eonwe’s side, shoulder to shoulder – stern, tall, dark-haired – a young man who looked only as old as the twins, although he had been born long before. Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor.

Of course the High King was there, a perfect Fingolfinian in his blue and silver. His battered steel armour and dark blue surcoat were littered with silver stars. He was large: as tall as the Ainu, and broader in the shoulders than Fingon or Fingolfin had ever been.

He had Fingon’s square jaw, but there was something delicate in the modelling of his cheekbones, his mouth: as though some sculptor had been at work refining all the details. Maedhros couldn’t stop looking at him.

He could feel Maglor’s confusion blooming beside him in the dark, then abating. He could guess at the shape of his brother’s thoughts, if not the words:

Why is he so stuck on Orodreth’s boy, when Elrond and Elros are right there?  I suppose it’s the resemblance: he looks a little like Fingon, doesn’t he? Is he imagining Fingon now, risen from the dead to judge him? I’m tired of him flogging himself with Fingon’s ghost. It’s not so close a likeness, anyway. It’s mostly the colouring and the colours. They do say he was Fingon’s, and I can see why they might; if I didn’t know better…

The grown Gil-galad’s eyes were like stars. Cold, and furious, and burning.

[im-the-punk-who]

Hey, for some reason I am really struggling with the ages of the characters in black sails, can u help me out?

Absolutely! At least as much as I know!

The only one whose age we absolutely know is Eleanor. Madi, Billy, Vane, Jack, and Anne we can make educated guesses, but most everyone else is up for interpretation.

Eleanor is born around 1690 - she is 17 when she takes over from her father and drives Blackbeard out eight years before canon starts. So she is 25/26 at the start of the series.

Madi is a few years younger than Eleanor but old enough to remember her when she leaves in 1703(when the Rosario raids historically happened). If Eleanor is about 13, Madi could be anywhere from 6-10 but likely not any older. So she is probably up to 23 in canon. She is no older than 25.

Billy is in his teens between 1705 and 1715, so he is no older than 30. Likely he is more like 23-26, the same age as Eleanor and Madi. (If he was a mid-teen when he was taken, spent three years in impressment, and then crewed up with the Walrus at 18 around 1708, that would make him 26ish when the series begins. (Because Morley says that he crews up with them after Flint kills Alfred, but he has clearly been with the crew for at least a few years. Flint says he was still living with his parents when he was taken, which would be odd for someone older than 18ish - and he spends three years in the navy.)

Vane is likely around the same age, and a bit older than Jack and Anne. I usually go for around 26-35 at the stretch, because he would have been either a child or teen when he escapes Albinius, but that could be any time after about 1697. (So, if we assume he’s like, 12 when he escapes in 1700, he would be about 27 when the series starts. But you can play with that age range. We know he is in Nassau by 1703 and a young adult and Captain by 1707.

Jack/Anne we only have clues from others - they were teenagers when Vane found them fucking in Nassau. Anne says she met Jack sometime after she was 13, so if we assume they’re about 15 when they meet Charles and that they meet him fairly early, they could be as old as 27. Historically Anne was born in 1697 and Jack in 1682 so I tend to go somewhere in between since they’re shown to be close in age.

Silver we don’t really have any idea, since we don’t know anything about him. Since Luke was in his early 30s when he filmed, I tend to go with a bit younger than that given the tendency of the show to cast men younger. So like, 26ish? Maaaybe 30? Around the same age as Vane. 

Max, again, no clue. I tend to HC her in her mid 20s, but that is purely conjecture.

For Blackbeard/Hornigold/Gates, I really don’t know what the fuck to tell you. xD Historically they would have been about 35 in canon, but the show seems to view them as much older. Teach was born around 1680, Hornigold the same. Hornigold mentions he sailed with Avery, and that Gates has spent ‘50 years at sea’ with the implication Hornigold has known him most of that time. Also because Blackbeard is old enough to view Charles as his sort of biological son, I would take that to mean he would have probably been an adult when they met. Gates says he sailed with Avery “when he was a kid” and he had his first bunkmate Cregg then. Henry Avery sailed and took Nsssau in the mid 1690s but like...timelines idk. Maybe he’s using the colloquial ‘kid’. (Jack also says that Gates’ crew might at one point be hoping for a Captain ‘thirty years younger’ talking about Vane, so that’s likely the age gap between those two groups.)

Thomas Miranda and James we also have no idea. I personally tend to headcanon them in their late 30s/early 40s in 1715. My main point for this is James’ status as both a Lieutenant and a ‘rising star’ in 1705 - given his poverty I can see him having a late start in climbing the political ladder, but I would have a hard time believing someone older than his mid 20s would be considered a ‘rising star’ in the Navy in a time of relatively plentiful war, when James would have plenty of opportunity to advance. I usually go about 25 in 1705, which would make him mid/late 30s in canon. Thomas I tend to go a bit older bc he specifically says that some of his schoolmates are superiors of James’ - which doesn't really mean anything other than he’s old enough to be the same age as a well-to-do upper officer. Like, 30? ish? Maybe late twenties. However given his naivety about political schemes I can’t see him having been involved in politics during the Glorious Revolution in 1688. So like, if he was at most 15 in 1688, he’d be no older than 32 in 1705, 42 in 1715. And then Miranda goes in the middle, around 26/27 in 1705, 36ish in 1715. (But this is all like, super conjecture.  Pick your own headcanon!)

Hope that helps! <3

[woozapooza]

little shippy tag meme

Tagged by @exlibrisfangirl :D :D :D

For simplicity’s sake I’m just gonna focus on TV ships.

1. First ship:

Sara/Grissom (CSI) is the first one I can definitively remember shipping.

2. First OTP:

Not really sure how we’re defining the difference between a ship and an OTP. I guess an OTP is just more intense? In which case I will go with Will/Djaq (Robin Hood).

3. Your ship since the first minute:

A lot of them, if not most of them. Some notable examples:

Jack/Kate (Lost) - their first scene together is SO good

Waverly/Nicole (Wynonna Earp) - *faints*

James/Thomas (Black Sails) - *faints again*

David/Patrick (Schitt’s Creek) - David’s one-sided melodramatic antagonism in their first interaction is so funny

Ben/Leslie (Parks and Recreation) - okay to be honest I don’t 100% remember if I shipped them from the very start or if I just feels like I did because I love them so much. But it definitely feels like I did.

4. Current favourite ship:

Oh man that’s hard. I guess Roy/Keeley (Ted Lasso) or Tom/Greg (Succession). I can hardly think of two more different pairings lol.

5. Ship that most of the fandom hates but you love:

Sayid/Shannon (Lost) - ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Spencer/Caleb (Pretty Little Liars) - the idea that they were good together is probably one my MOST controversial TV opinions

5b. (Added by Mel and it’s a good addition so I’m keeping it) Ship that most of the fandom loves but you... don't:

Charlie/Claire (Lost) - I don’t even care very much about Claire but she definitely deserves better

Dan/Amy (Veep) - Dan/Jonah 4 life

Silver/Flint (Black Sails) - I love their relationship but I’ve never felt the need to ship them with anyone other than their canon partners

Jeff/Annie (Community) - cannot get past the age difference

6. You don’t even watch the show, but you ship it:

Honestly, if a gifset crosses my dash of two people kissing or even just making bedroom eyes at each other, I’m most likely going to start shipping it right then and there. I like when the little fake people fall in love :) Trying to think of a specific example...oh wait. Destiel. Obviously. Y yo a ti, Cas.

7. Ship you wish had a different storyline:

Thomas/Richard (Downton Abbey) - what is the point of a sequel if Richard isn’t in it >:(

Wynonna/Dolls (Wynonna Earp) - I will never be over this -_-

8. Ship you wish was canon:

Xena/Gabrielle (Xena: Warrior Princess) - okay obviously this is canon if you don’t have your head in the sand but I wish they could have made it SO canon that even people with their head in the sand couldn’t deny it

9. Ship you wish had become endgame:

Jack/Lynette (AP Bio) - I haven’t watch the most recent season, which is the final season, but I have heard that they broke up >:(

10. Favourite ship that is endgame:

Again, so many. A few examples:

All the ships from question 3

Anne/Max (Black Sails)

Eleanor/Chidi (The Good Place)

Desmond/Penny (Lost)

Mary/Matthew (Downton Abbey)

Jim/Pam (The Office)

April/Andy (Parks and Recreation)

Doctor/Rose (Doctor Who) - sort of endgame, sort of not

Mulder/Scully (The X-Files) - perhaps stretching the definition of “endgame” here but I feel justified in doing so

Dwight/Caroline and Drake/Morwenna (Poldark)

If anyone wants to do this, consider yourself tagged!

[ukdamo]

Remembrance of Things Present

One of mine...

The gloryhole in 89 Napier Street was the repository for practical things not necessarily needed immediately to hand: the scorched and rickety ironing board (the iron standing on its heel on the shelf above); left-over rolls of wallpaper; a canopy of coats cascading untidily from too few hooks; the two books (Universal Home Doctor and Family Bible); a bashed brown tea caddy, minus its label, that held buttons, wooden cotton reels, a selection of sewing needles, hair grips, press-studs on their cards, folorn biros with bitten ends; the Ewbank (at an earlier date), the reconditioned Hoover now in its stead. And mum's handbags. Old ones bulged with insurance policies, family snaps, the one £5 Premium Bond and the the three £1 ones, grave papers, mass cards, cast-off compacts with cracked mirrors or broken clasps, and almost-but-not-quite empty jars of Pond's cold cream. And the little cylinders of fake gold that held the stumps of greasy, muted-pinky-maroon lip sticks. It was all illuminated by a bare low-wattage bulb.

The gloryhole was, basically, under-stair storage. It was accessed from a door in the corner of the living room. Once the door was opened, you faced a narrow underdrawn space that sloped upward from left to right, following the contours of the stairs. In front, where the height permitted it, a shelf ran around the space. Under it were the old, two-pronged coat hooks. Mum's discarded handbags dangled by their frayed straps from those Victorian coat hooks, smothered by coats. They made occasional forays out into the light, when documents needed consulting or prayer cards needed re-homing. To the left of the door, down one-step, the space retreated into an increasingly confined wedge, so that the smaller objects had to be shoved into the deepest part of the recess and the taller ones stood immediately adjacent. The gloryhole was seldom decorated: it always lagged behind the rest of the house by at least two or three colour-schemes. Occasionally, when its yellowing paint became too depressing, it was freshened up by left over emulsion. The gloryhole housed the left-over wallpaper from various rooms - but never enjoyed a Polycell make-over of its own.

From the vantage point of 2017, Napier Street as our family home is long-gone. So are my parents; dad in 1995, mum a decade later. Equally long-gone are those old handbags with their stash of yesteryear's oddments. But, as I beetle along towards old age, the inherent power of those distant objects to seems to grow exponentially. The handbags and their associated evocations perhaps most of all.

Pond's cold cream. I don't know if it still exists. When I was a boy, it lived in small, glass, oval jars with bakelite screw lids. It was not gloopy or waxy. It was a reassuringly viscose white fondant, and had always the imprint of mum's last finger-scoop. The texture was cool, smooth and soothing. Its fragrance was of mum. Or maybe it was the other way round. A discreet scent of jasmine with distant lilies. It was soft on the palms and immediately made skin more malleable, less friable, less care-worn, more translucent. I can sympathise with her fondness for it: less a cotton winders' hands, more of a princess's. I used to have occasional dabs of my own: less a scrawly schoolboy's hands, more of an aesthete's?

In one or other of the bags there was a ladies Ronson lighter – it still had a working flint but its petrol-infused lint had long since dried out. I used to enjoy the dry, rasping spark with electric flare. Not so much a burning smell as a mechanical one. And then there were the compacts. They were usually smudged by the old lipsticks, their hinges encrusted with their own pink-blush powder. Indeed, the insurance policies, prayer cards and the faux-satin linings of the handbags were similarly smudged. The dull gold-coloured compact, the one with the cracked mirror, had a thin flat disc in it – satin one side and mildly padded on the other. Practically all the powder was gone from the insert. Little bevels of it remained where the side and bottom of the pan met. But the pad was still redolent of dustings and pattings. The powder was an anhydrous mist, different from the silky puff of Johnson's baby powder. Matt rather than shiny, the pad gave a satisfyingly muted pat when applied to the back of your hand. It had a fragrance, too, different from the cold cream, but complementary. The aroma was a pink carnation.

Mum was a delicate creature in some respects – allergic to anything other than gold jewellery. In this, I am not her son: I can wear any base metal, though my fondness and preference is for silver. Anything other than butter on her bread made her nauseous. Wartime had been a torture for her (the chemical coarseness of margarine, you understand). She had to trade all manner of coupons to secure enough butter. I sympathise with that. Her choice of butter was always Lurpak but she'd tolerate Kerrygold or Anchor if it was demanded of her. Stork – which the adverts claimed was indistinguishable from butter – was relegated to cake-making. Rightly so. Vile. Only desperation would make a person use it on bread.

Mum's repertoire of soaps was as limited as her butter.

Pears (those amber ovals) she liked – but it was too pricey. Imperial Leather (“Simon, Bermuda”) was also valued but equally pricey. I don't recall it featuring anything other than rarely – probably when it was on offer. We were a family of six, with four blokes, you see: that's a lot of soap. So, the mundane soap was a Lever Brothers stand by: Sunlight. With lanolin, even. I had no idea what lanolin was – but mum could use it on that delicate skin. This was in the days before hypoallergenic was a even a word, still less a range of products. Sunlight soap came in fat, cumbersome, rectangular, pale magnolia cakes. Really, it was very unfeminine: great half-charlies that were too big for the hand, unless you were a navvy or a coal miner. They had a wide groove on their upper surface, with a cursive 'Sunlight' stamped in it. I don't know if Sunlight is still going: it had a retro makeover many years ago but I can't recall seeing it in decades. The gradual demise of the C2 working class probably doomed it to extinction. And as for lanolin, people finding out that it was the oil from sheep's fleeces no doubt undermined its appeal, somewhat. Sometimes it's best not to know: when I hear what goes into mum's old Oil of Ulay (now sans oil, and simply Olay for copyright reasons, I think), it is cringeworthy.

But lanolin. I recall coming face to face with it a few years ago on a walk to the Water Meetings and Quaker Bridge in Barrowford. Summer time. No azure flash of kingfishers racing along Pendle Water that trip, but as I forked right and headed up the road into Blacko to follow it homewards, there was the buzz of clippers in a field. A Landrover was pulled up, with trailer uncoupled. The trailer sported on- /off- ramps, a generator, and a tall pole, attached to the top of which was a flexible bendy cord. At the end of the cord was the source of the insistent buzzing – sheep shears. The trailer was adjacent to a sheep pen, in which dozens of ewes jostled half-heartedly for position, and peered blankly out. I stopped to watch proceedings and, after a minute or two, the farmer came over, opened the gate, and invited me in.

And so we stood, the three of us. Me, the farmer, and the sheep shearer. And I learned about shearing, fleeces, and sheep. The shearer travelled from farm to farm (hence the Landrover with its bespoke trailer) making his way through Wales, Lancashire, Yorkshire on a pre-arranged timetable and route. He was netting £2 a fleece – and he had each of those pliable ladies, and some cantankerous ones – nabbed, shaved, and released at no more than 90 second intervals. The farmer penned the sheep ready, so there was no delay, and they contracted for a minimum number, so farmers with smaller holdings rendezvoused at the farm where the shearer was to set up. Prices for fleeces rose and fell – they weren't bad that year, as I recall, but sheep need shearing whatever the price.

The bewildered ladies were unceremoniously up-ended and plonked on their ample bottoms, whilst the young fella planted his muscular legs and gripped them, and set to work with the clippers. Mostly, they were subdued once he had them: perhaps reassured by his evident skill and no-nonsense approach. That always worked with me when I was a boy: the sound of the airplane clippers, the smell of 3-in-1 oil, and the firm purpose of the barber. Short back and sides and sparse conversation. Mind you, I don't think the barber netted £2 a scalp back in the day.

The sun shone, the sheep skittered off once fleeced, and we three chatted. Soon my eye was drawn to the large grease spot on the wooden trailer. Lanolin, live and in-person. Handy for soap making, handier still for shedding the filthiest Lancashire weather: these sheep were well set up for inclemencies. I noted, too, that the shearer was wearing moccasins. As the farmer explained, the best shearers wore moccasins. Their suede nap gave some purchase on the slippery grease and their firm pressure was kinder to sheep. Lots of younger men were sporting trainers now, he said, but he didn't rate them. They were not good. The risk of injury to sheep, and man, was increased. I found myself glad that the shearer stood fully congruent with his occupation – no flirting with any Nike or Adidas innovations. Real sheep shearers do it in moccasins.

After the family home was sold and mum and dad went to live in Lomeshaye Village, in one of the old-folks' flats, mum's predilection for Imperial Leather resurfaced. There was always a bar in the bathroom. With just the two of them (kids all gone) the economies necessary for a family of six, on a wagon driver's income, were less stringent. Imperial Leather as pensioner indulgence! One of the things that most endeared me to those lozenge-shaped bars of buttermilk hue was the little foil label that conjured up the decadence of the Romanovs. It was my understanding that the label was there to prevent the soap leaving a mess on the sink ceramics or soap dish: you stood the bar on its label. As the soap wore down, the label stood proud and the soap was no longer in contact with the sink – hence, no mess. Perhaps because we were very plebeian, the soap was never label down. You announced the fact that you were using it by having the label showing.

For me, nowadays, picking the soap up, lathering it under the tap, releases not so much a fragrance as a wave of nostalgia. Imperial Leather's fragrance has elements of sandalwood and the richness of plant oils – it's mildly exotic and suggestive of luxury. Which is, no doubt, what Cussons were aiming at. But for me, it mostly carries aromas of mum. It's powerfully evocative. Aromas are.

I recall a visit – with mum – to Gawthorpe Hall. It's one of the places we'd scoot off to for an afternoon of cultural noseyness, and cake. The cafe was lodged in the stable block and featured home-baking and pots of tea. Ideal for us. After a leisurely brew and news-swop, we were about to go and explore the lovely Elizabethan pile: I decided to make a visit to the lavatory first. The tea room was above, the toilets below, so I skittered down the stairs and found the Gents. The soap was in an old-school wall dispenser: fingers under, palm operates a rectangular squirter. One squidge was enough: the years receded and I was age six, it was dinner time, I was standing at a child-height sink in St George's RC Primary School, Vaughan Street, Nelson, washing my hands so that Mrs. Ingham (a diminutive tyrant) would not throw me out of the dinner queue. The soap dispensed in the Gawthorpe toilet was the same amber-coloured, antiseptic liquid that Lancashire County Council used in its school thirty years before. The power of scent created a wormhole in space-time and drew me through it, irresistibly. That power can be used to advantage, though. You can elect to make the journey. Fragrance can open the portal, on demand. If liquid coal-tar soap can take me to primary school, other fragrances can take me elsewhere.

4711, for instance. That eau-de-cologne can transport me to Köln, and the year 1976. It's a school exchange trip and I'm in Germany, staying with a family from Mayen: we're on a trip to Cologne. I've been up the cathedral tower and seen the Rhine bridges and I'm looking for a present for mum. On Glockenstrasse, at number 4711, stands an impressive perfume factory and shop – home to 4711. The original eau-de-cologne. Echt Kölnisch Wasser. It's still there – flagship shop of the perfume house, and it still glitters with possibility. I bought mum a bottle of the eponymous 18th CE perfume and she wore it ever after. Generally, she kept it in her current handbag (before they were, successively, relegated to the gloryhole). She'd dab it on her hanky and freshen up with it on car trips. As a perfume, 4711 has had an odd evolution over the 200 plus years of its existence; it was, originally, a men's fragrance for the prestige Houses of Europe. More latterly, it has been a women's fragrance – but 4711 indicate it as unisex. I agree. The scent is of citrus and wood that carries a fresh, sharp finish and has enduring undernotes. For me it's an everyday scent: it lives in my sports bag, for application after swims. It's also my travel fragrance and comes with me on every trip, near or far.

As I age (just clocked 56, Not Out), I seem to be developing a deepening appreciation for my past and how it has shaped who I have become. I heard once that making sense of your life is only possible when you look back over it – I recall an analogy that compared it to running your fingers over a fish's scales: they lie smoothly when stroked in one direction but are likely to tear your flesh if stroked in the wrong one. I can see connections, recognise how events and people shaped my experiences. I know I hold threads together, personally. I weave my own cloth - but on a loom I inherited. More tellingly still, some elements of the pattern, some of the aesthetics that inform the weave, some of the yarns, were given to me. I'm the child of weavers in more ways than one.

I can find, too, there's comfort in the sureties of the past. Like the familiarity of an old pair of slippers (not that I wear slippers), the quiet resonances of childhood are reassuring. I think we like continuity, as a species. We tell stories. We create in our own likeness. We look to where we came from to make sense of where we are and to decide where we want to go.

I'm conscious of my heritage. Not (I think) conditioned or stultified by it, or forever harking back to a mystical Golden Age that exists only in the warm fuzziness of a smug and delusional imagination. But I know I make choices which ensure there are tokens of continuity that I can carry with me into my everyday life. Mostly, they are mundane. And I like that, too. It's too easy to confuse what's important with what's valuable, unless you guard against that possibility. The richer you are, the more imperilled that discernment is: I've safeguarded myself against that risk very well!

My tokens are trivial. It's good that they are.

I think of the tea caddy spoon – it's in my kitchen, as it was in mum's kitchen, and as it was in her mum's kitchen before her (c/o a pre-WW II holiday to the Isle of Man): or there's my 'ice-cream' spoon – courtesy of Margaret Pepper and the Raj (well, the North Western Railway Volunteer Rifles, circa 1920). These tokens are a continuing connection with people now gone. They are stirred (if you'll forgive the pun) by everyday use.

I note, increasingly, that I am becoming my parents. I look like dad. Really: peas in a pod, chip off the old block, and so on. I look in the mirror and he smiles back at me. I look at my physignomy – and his fingerprints are all over it. My driving style evokes his. In some situations, I can sense him near. Curiously, he underpins my confidence in situations from which his natural diffidence would have disbarred him. If I stand tall, it's because he raised me. As for mum, she's around most days. Wimbledon Fortnight, she practically moves in. It was ever ‘our time’ - I’d rock up with whimberry charlottes, or strawberries, and we’d sit on the edges of chairs for hours and hours as Nastase, Connors, Becker, McEnroe, Ivanisovic, Sampras, Federer and Billie Jean King, Martina, Steffi and the Williams sisters thwacked balls back and forth. I miss her acutely then. And we both missed Dan Maskell, together. She’s at my elbow at breakfast when I make a pot of Yorkshire Tea (there's another evocation!); when the Imperial Leather is handled at shower time; twice weekly, in the men's locker room at Crow Wood, after a swim. Perhaps it's fortunate that the evocation is a personal, rather than an universal, one? (Otherwise, explanations might prove difficult).

I don't know if the trivial and potent associations that so flavour my life – 4711, Imperial Leather, and two old spoons – will evoke the same responses among my nephews and nieces and their respective kids once I'm dead. It’s open to doubt. They don't live cheek-by-jowl with them, as I do. It matters not. They will make their own. As things stand, I'm the orphan in the world, now mum and dad are long dead: the comfort blanket offered by fragrances and spoons is mine, and very probably mine alone.

There's quiet comfort in that, too.

© Damian, April 2017

[darkmagickingdom]

Language headcanons

I think I've established this before, but each villain speaks their preferred (usually first) language, and it's simply translated magically so everyone can understand each other without the hassle (and unfairness) of having to choose and learn a standard language

English is spoken by the Queen of Hearts, Hook, Cruella, Mim, Sykes, Helga, Rourke, and Syndrome.

Animals in the Disney universe seem to understand human language, though they can't always speak it. In this way Ratigan also speaks English, but well, in the way that rats do, so it's incomprehensible to humans without that handy automatic translation spell

Oogie would be a similar case, but despite him being comprised of insects and a few other animals, he's shown in the movie as able to communicate just fine with Santa Claus, who presumably speaks English. Granted, Santa is magic, and it's possible Jack and Sally can understand bug, but honestly I don't think it's that deep. So Oogie can speak english with no issues.

German is spoken by Grimhilde, the Horseman, and Gothel. This is all based on either where their story originated from (Grimhilde and Gothel) or where their story established they were from (The Horseman).

French is spoken by Maleficent, Gaston, and Frollo. This is also based on where their stories are set or where they originate.

Facilier learned French and English at about the same time while growing up in New Orleans, so which he uses depends on which he'd rather use at the moment or which is more convenient for whoever he's talking to.

Shere Khan speaks Hindi...well, a tiger's interpretation of it, but you get the point.

Ursula speaks Danish, owing to her story's country of origin.

Jafar speaks Arabic, though he's actually well versed in a number of other languages from his travels as a younger man.

Scar and Zira, like the other animals, speak an animal form of a human language. In this case, I went with Zulu, as that seems to be the general consensus of the part of the fandom that is concerned with language. It's also the language used for "The Circle of Life"'s opening lines, though considering most of the characters names are Swahili in origin, it's also quite possible that they speak Swahili instead. I can't be sure, because Disney isn't really specific with what part of Africa the story takes place in or when in human history it occurs.

Hades, of course, speaks Greek. But being a god, he's sort of omniscient and at least has a solid understanding of most of the languages spoken in the estate. Well, all of the ones that exist in his universe, at least. He'd have no clue what the guys from fantasy realms were saying.

Though Shan Yu likely did speak Mandarin, as he's shown speaking to characters from China with no difficulties, his native language would have been the Hunnic language.

Yzma would not have spoken Spanish, as The Emperor's New Groove seemingly takes place before the Spanish conquistadors would have arrived in Peru. Her language is instead Quechua, the language used and spread by the Incan empire.

Tamatoa's name is Maori in origin, so I'll go with that as his preferred language. Unlike other animal villains and similar to Oogie, he doesn't appear to have any trouble communicating with humans in his movie.

Doris and AUTO don't really need translation, as they both come equipped to understand most languages spoken on Earth. Like Hades, that doesn't help them with the ones that speak fantasy languages though, but they're both quick learning AI, so they catch on fast. Doris, however, doesn't seem to be able to verbally speak any human language (unless she's controlling someone) and instead speaks through some very Star-Wars-droid-esque beeps and boops, as well as Wile-E-Coyote-esque held signs when needed.

And now we're getting into the fantasy languages.

Considering Prydain is a fantasy realm and not a real place on our Earth, it's likely that Arawn and the Horned King speak a fantasy language. Judging by the names of people and places in the story, it's probably most similar to Welsh.

Seeing as Flint, Silver, and Scroop are all aliens, it could be assumed that they speak whatever fantasy language is typical for their respective species. However, if the common language spoken in Treasure Planet's universe is English (and I don't really have much of a reason to assume it isn't), then it's positive that they can all speak it just fine.

Randall speaks whatever language is most common in Monstropolis. This could be a fantasy language, as it's kept pretty ambiguous whether Boo can understand the monsters, but honestly aside from that there isn't much evidence supporting the theory. Boo's often incomprehensible babbling is probably just a result of her young age (since she does occasionally say things that are understandable), and the kid who looks confused when Mike does stand-up comedy in front of him is probably just confused about where he came from, why he's not scaring him, and/or just doesn't think his routine is funny until the finale. I honestly don't care much for Monsters University, but maybe I'll check it out again just to see if they offer any information on this subject.

[silverflintdaily]

Silverflint Summer Challenge - All the prompts so far!

Challenge details:

Prompts Any kind of prompt is fair game as long as they include Silverflint. OT3 and OT4 ships like Silverflinthamilton are fine too. You can submit as many prompts as you like. All prompts will be anonymous and can be submitted through the form linked below.

Fills You can create any kind of fanwork for this, fic, art, edits, videos etc. Prompts won’t be assigned or claimed so you can make things for multiple prompts and each prompt can have multiple fills.

Schedule Submit prompts and work on fills May 1 through June 22. Posting week is June 23rd to 30th, more details will be posted later.

Submit prompts here:

HTTPS://FORMS.GLE/LMGMVAYUHRAFZCVW6

art above is a commission from @laskapsy

Full list of prompts as of 5/25/20 below.

Ships/characters in bold

Max, Anne, Silver, and Flint  They all go to burning man

Silverflint  Instagram drama: Silver has crush on Flint, following with each other, Silver shove his love on Flint and Flint's uncomfortable. Flint unfollowed him one day and Silver was devastated and disappeared from Instagram. Flint found out through friends and he must seek him before Silver did something stupid.

Silverflint  Truth or dare

Silverflint   Canon era, one (or both) accidently calling the other one pet names

Silverflint (+sort of Flinthamilton)  Silver asking Flint, while having sex, to tell him about his sex with Thomas (in detail). I think canon era, placed after 310, would be better but it's up to writer.

Silverflinthamilton + ?   summer vacation modern au - maybe they go somewhere warm (or not, as Flint burns so easily), maybe they meet some beautiful men there

Silverflint   post canon era reunion fic - fighting to kissing. they start out almost trying to kill one another

Silverflint    modern au - after a meet rude during the coronavirus lockdown they both can't stop thinking about that handsome idiot they met. One of them tracks the other down online to apologize. how do they spend the endless weeks of shelter in place?

Silverflint   canon era - A small happy celebration with just the two of them.

Silverflintmiranda  canon era - Miranda survives the shot, convalesces with Silver

Silverflint   modern au where either Silver or Flint has an ASMR channel (or they both have) and they secretly love listening to the other. Could be distant pining or enemies to lovers etc.

Silverflint (+Hamilton[s])  tarzan au (you can choose who is on the island and who arrives there). Lord Thomas Hamilton and/or Miranda can also be included.

Silverflintmadi  "My name is (Long) John Silver. And I've got a long fucking memory [loss]."

Silverflintmadi   canon era. They go on a picnic and it starts to rain. Fluff or otherwise good times would be nice!

Silverflint    Flint is a cockslut and hasn't had cock in ages. Silver is happy (and really fucking astonished) to present his for the taking. happens before Silver loses his leg, canon era.

Silverflint   Modern au with 'there is only one bed' trope and mutual pining. Silver is Flint's long suffering sassy PA who's been hiding a crush on his boss and friend forever.He has been successful so far. One day he has to accompany Flint on a business trip to let's say Bahamas?! and there was a booking mistake - there were booked into a honeymoon suite. And since there is a summer festival there is no chance to get another room. Things happen!

Silverflint, Silverflinthamilton  7 years after their escape from Savannah plantation, James and Thomas are living a quiet, happily ever after life - money and jewels they grabbed on their way out were enough for decades of comfortable life which they now had. And almost everything was perfect-they had each other, got to know each other again,accepted each others' demons and learned to handle each others' nightmares and guilt. Flint long ago told Thomas about Silver and with time forgave, but didn't forget him. After all Flint's heart was broken on Skeleton Island and both him and Thomas knew deep inside he still loved John Silver. They talked about Silver-about the feelings Flint used to hide, about the pain and forgiveness and about love that didn't had a happy ending. It was fine, discussing it all together, sharing these stories-past is in the past and that chapter of Flint's life will remain there. Until one day the past refused to remain in the past and John Silver showed up on their doorstep, injured, delirious and looking for his own forgiveness.

Silverflint/Silverflinthamilton   Post canon S4: John Silver is no longer Long John Silver. Exiled from Madi and Maroon Island, he brought himself to somewhere nearby Savannah and disappeared. James Flint and Thomas Hamilton escaped from plantation, bought house and live happily together. 3 years later, Flint saw John Silver at tavern. But John Silver doesn't remember him. Turns out he lost memories due sickness and always forget who he was everyday. Will Flint able bring John Silver's memory back and reconcile?

Silverflint, Silverflinthamilton  Modern AU silverflint - Flint and Thomas are a happily married couple and Silver and Flint are bffs with a long history. But the thing is-Silver has been crushing on Flint forever and his pining is epic. He is also sure he is clever and no one figured it out. Only both Thomas and Flint did a while ago and Flint is determined to make Silver confess his feelings. He has turned Silver's life into a living hell with his seduction techniques and jeans so tight they should be illegal in public. Meanwhile Thomas is having too much fun watching them two and making his own plans for their shared future together.

Silverflint   John Silver is 30 year old virgin and has never had a relationship and sex. Max and Jack decided to set him up with date at local bar. John Silver's first date was James Flint, a loner and his last partner left him for indifference opinion. James Flint is working as cattle farmer (?) and their date went well. Except.. they are not rushing to have sex and taking time to know each other. There were lot confusion and miscommunication between them on next date. Will John Silver able to lose his virgin and will James Flint make first step to ask John Silver as his boyfriend? First kiss, first touch, sexting, first sex and hot smut.

Silverflint  smut ficlet to go with finnguala's fabulous art

Silverflint  post canon - old pirates having a day at the beach

Silverflint  Flint is distracted by Silver's big hands.

Silverflint   Modern au: Flint found Silver's missing childhood's photo at Silver's grandparent's house. He told Silver about it and gave compliment on him ("you were cute as kid and I noticed how baby earsie you were and your smile was beautiful") and Silver keep blush for non stop teasing. And then sweet, hot summer sex on bed ;)

Silverflinthamilton   pornstars au

Silverflinthamilton   After reunion. Thomas is trying to seduce Silver with a new, especially tight, pair of trousers.

Silverflint   Canon era. S1-S2 After an accident on the Walrus Silver and Flint end up being able to read each others thoughts. How does that end up going for them?

Silverflint + Miranda   just some porn where miranda is pegging one of them while the other watches them fall apart. canon or modern era, it doesn't really matter.

Silverflint  Two idiots with mutual pining and obliviousness. Others try to help but it may not go so well at first.

Silverflint  canon era. After a really great haul the Walrus has a rum soaked celebration. The next morning Silver and Flint wake up together in the captain's bed with no clothes.

Silverflinthamilton   After reunion. Silver finally appears on their doorstep, later they are talking over their dinner but something goes wrong and Silver and Flint start to fight. Thomas is trying to calm and separate them but Flint accidentally punches him instead of Silver.

Silverflint   Persuasion AU. An unmarried Silver encounters his former love Captain James Flint after he returns from battle.

Silverflint  competing reality cooking show contestants

Silverflint  Silver and Flint have met before many years ago and even spent the night together. Now for reasons (there was a lot of rum that night, they're both different people, memory loss etc.) neither of them remember. One of them has a nagging feeling when Silver joins the Walrus crew but one of them remembers nothing yet.

Silverflint   One of them needs to be restrained and dominated to truly let go. Writer's choice who and what era.

Silverflint   Silver threatens to shave his head

Silverflint/Silverflinthamilton   (probably?)Post canon S4 and Treasure Island: Captain Flint's ghost decided to haunt John Silver for revenge. However, Long John Silver was disappeared to nowhere. Fast forward for this year, Long John Silver's great great grandson, John Silver bought property in Bristol. One day, he was haunted by ghost Captain Flint. Ghost Captain Flint wants revenge but ended up falling in love sweet, poor John Silver's due social anxiety. Will they make up for loss done by his late ancestor? Happy ending for everyone. All depend on writer's idea!

Silverflint  AU Canon divergence during season 4. Madi really dies in episode 7; Thomas Hamilton is not found in Savannah. The war goes on, bolstered by an enraged Silver, fueled by the Urca gold. During this time of violence and grief, Flint and Silver become all each other has left in the world.

Silverflint   Sometimes one of them will keep the other on the edge for as long as he can stand. There is lots and lots of begging and pleading. There could be fingering and rimming and toys...

Silverflinthamilton  Reunion fic where John finds James and Thomas in their home x nbr of years after s4, then realises he knows Thomas because they spent a month living together in Paris some years before Thomas met James and having a blast. John recognises Thomas who doesn't recognise him until John shows a tattoo/mark placed somewhere there is no misunderstanding of why he recognises that part of him (because he's seen john naked). Develops into threesome or twosome where the last person joins in later.

Silverflint  tentacles

SilverFlint / MadiSilverFlintHamilton   Post s4 Thomas and Flint are living together after escaping the plantation. Madi and Silver who are still together come to visit them. SilverFlint have palpable sexual/romantic tension and Madi and Thomas conspire to push them together. Afterwards when the tension is resolved Silver and Flint realize it was planned by their significant others all along and invite them into bed and the four of them have some fun

Silverflint    When drunk, Flint behaves like Toby Stephens’ Prince John in BBC Robin Hood.

Silverflint (hamilton)     Annihilation Au

Silverflint     Canon-compliant up til 4.06. When the Spanish attacks Nassau, Silver is the one who is thought to be dead and later revealed to have been captured (instead of Madi). Rogers tries to use to Silver to cause a rift between Madi and Flint, thinking that Madi will trade the treasure for Silver's life while Flint will not. To everyone's surprise, the opposite happens. Madi refuses to trade the treasure while Flint will stop at nothing to get Silver back.

Silverflint   firefighter au: silver keeps accidentally triggering the fire alarm while trying to improve his cooking (an actual fire may or may not be involved) and flint is the ridiculously attractive firefighter who has to deal with it

Silverflint   vigilante au: they're both vigilantes watching over the same area and have a bit of a rivalry going on until they have to team up to take down a new threat.

Silverflint   modern au (amnesia): silver wakes up with amnesia and forgets that he was dating flint before the accident. as far as he remembers, they can't stand each other, and he doesn't understand why flint shows up at the hospital and seems genuinely worried about him. (roles could be reversed--author's choice).

[buckets-of-dirt]

Ten Niche Interests

Tagged by @chaotic-archaeologist!

1. Knitting

This one appears to not actually be that niche, but whatever. My grandma taught me to knit when I was 9 and since then I’ve almost always had a project going (often the same project for several months). Once you’ve worn wool socks you knit yourself in the winter, its hard to go back.

2. Spinning

A natural extension of #1 what was bound to happen eventually, I bought a cheap drop spindle on etsy last summer and have been practicing ever since. My thread isn’t super even yet, but I’m getting there. The technique itself is actually fairly easy and its a great mindless task to keep my hands busy while I watch tv or listen to podcasts.

3. Sewing

Sensing a theme yet? I was probably still in preschool when my mom taught me to handsew, and I grew up using my dad’s cold war era (seriously, the thing was made in west germany) machine for small projects. Recently I’ve discovered the plethora of historical costuming/tailoring youtube channels and am hoping to develop my skills enough to make myself some history-inspired clothes in the near future!

4. Tablet weaving

I first heard about tablet weaving when I took a course on viking age Scandinavia this winter and of course I had to try it. The set up takes awhile, but once you get going its very easy to produce beautiful designs. Historically, it would’ve mainly been used for cloak edgings and such, but my current project is a silver and blue belt thats about half done

5. Snowboarding

I was by no means a sporty kid growing up, but the one real exception was the snowboarding lessons I took in middle and high school. I was not good at it then, and the lengthly hiatus due to uni probably didn’t help, but I had fun anyway and thats all that matters. This particular interest is also to blame for why I have to wear a scarf over my face practically all winter because I got slight frostbite on my cheeks several times while basically unsupervised on the slopes (wear your balaclavas kids)

6. Welsh mythology

The Mabinogi (or Mabinogion depending on your translator and what stories they choose to include) is a tragically underappreciated collection of surviving myths recorded by monks in medieval Wales. The stories tell us as much about medieval Welsh society as they do about what a pagan Wales might have been like and I find it fascinating. Plus it has the first written mention of King Arthur (who was Welsh, fight me) before the english and the french got ahold of him so thats pretty cool

7. Flint knapping

How could I be a good prehistoric archaeology student if I hadn’t tried flint knapping at least once? Turns out its really fun to smash rocks with other rocks, especially when that leads to creation. I’m still a beginner, and pressure flaking is my nemesis, but understanding the process has definitely helped me comprehend stone tools and better at recognizing flakes when I’m in the field

8. Gardening

I love fresh veggies and I love being in the dirt so naturally I enjoy helping my dad with his garden (though I hate weeding). A few years ago at an archaeology summer camp a Wabanaki activist and retired paleoethnobotanist who is working on a food sovereignty project gave me a handful of bean seeds from heirloom varieties that would’ve been grown in the region where I live before european contact. I’ve been trying to establish a stable crop ever since, and this year I might finally get to taste them!

9. Renaissance drama

Okay so its not that weird to like Shakespeare, but what about his contemporaries? I’m not even talking about Marlowe (though his work is also very good don’t @me). I’m talking city comedies. The show normal people, usually in London, going about their normal renaissance lives. My favourite would have to be Roaring Girl which is about Moll (based on the real outlaw Mary Frith who defied sumptuary laws and gender roles to wear men’s clothing) helping a couple get married despite their fathers’ disapproval 

10. The (Pre)history of textiles

Wouldn’t you know it, I love textiles. Historic textiles are obviously very cool and beautiful, but my heart truly lies with the textiles made in the Americas before contact (especially northeastern North America). Is including my research specialty on this list a bit of a cop out? Yes. But I don’t think its possible to get more niche than a material that you have to study by proxy using one or two kinds of ceramic decoration motifs. Catch me in the field crying over a single sherd of cord wrapped stick impressed pottery. 

Reid has already tagged pretty much anyone I’d think to tag so if you see this and want to participate just go for it!

[olincino]

Get to know the blogger!

Tagged by: @farahbobbi-blog-blog, sorry it took me ages.

FIRST NAME Olga

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF Idk. I don’t do sports, I don’t watch sports on tv but I really enjoy films about sports and sportsmen. (It’s not very inetresting, I know.

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON Eyes, smile, voice. I insist - voice is a physical thing.

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF potato chips

A FOOD YOU HATE Dill souse, dill in general. Sheep dairy products (it tastes like you'd be sucking rams balls, or i imagine how it'd taste like).

GUILTY PLEASURE Loving some low quality films or shows.

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN Pajamas when it’s cold. Top tucked into bottom and bottoms of pant legs tucked into socks, usually during the night I put the bottom and socks off. Tshirt when it’s summer.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS Maybe I wish I have had more flings. Idk. 

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I’ve already answered it in another tag game so I choose something else. What about get some more useful education.

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON  I don’t think so, not on the outside.

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN Idk, Fifth Element.

FAVORITE BOOK Jeezz, I hate this question. I go for a fanfic instead. L/S by StarRose (and many others)

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE  Hairless cat and pug.

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL] 

James Flint/John Silver

James Flint/John Silver/Thomas Hamilton

James Flint/Thomas Hamilton

PIE OR CAKE Both is good.

FAVORITE SCENT wet dust, air after storm, flowers, lilacs (my lilac bush has at lest 20 blossoms his year, can wait they start to bloom)

CELEBRITY CRUSH hah too much Toby Stephens, RPJ, Mads Mikkelsen, Robert Redford .......

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO Latin America? so many places I’d love to see.

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT Both?

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I guess I don’t.

IPHONE OR ANDROID Android.

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES Idk if the jelly candy play counts as a video game.

DREAM JOB an  archivist

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS Well, it’s actually not that much. I don’t want to say what I’d do as the first thing. 

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE too many. When I stick with BS and not choose the obvious villains, I tell Eleanor, I don’t hate her but I don’t like her and with every other rewatch I dislike her more and more.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER Nope, BS is my fist and I think the last fandom.

[stand-up-and-fight-daleks]

A, J, Q, Y and Z!

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

Due to the global health crisis, I haven’t read or even thought about any shippy stuff in weeks. I think the stress is making me revert back to my truest form, namely, Everyone Is Basically Ace Because Considering Other Options Is Exhausting.

Funny how that goes.

Anyway, I’m currently feeling Tony/Rhodey and Tony/Bucky the most, though I honestly still can’t decide if I like Tony and Rhodey better as friends with very occasional benefits.

Also - in the name of honesty and because I have been streaming almost all of Sabrina the Teenage Witch in these trying times - I have to admit that Sabrina and Harvey were very cute together. 

J - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr

I’ve been here for so long that solid 90% of my exposure to new shows comes through tumblr, but B99, the Good Place and Derry Girls come to mind immediately.

Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why

I have never been much of a shipper, so if a ship manages to penetrate all my outer layers it’s pretty much there to stay. I have parted ways with ships I read more casually though. I used to be able to read bagginshield, but I noped out of it due to severe overexposure and characterization issues.

I also used to read a lot of 9th Doctor/Rose Tyler stuff about a decade ago, but I also quit reading it about a decade ago and can’t exactly remember why. The ship probably died of natural causes once the flame burned itself out.

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

Only one that comes immediately to mind is the Black Sails - I know there’s an angry gay named Flint and a dude named Silver who’s either a manipulative asshat or a puppy dog, or possibly both at the same time. There’s also a lot of cool women, but I’m pretty sure the coolest (Miranda????) ends up dead.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but encouraged)

It’s very hard to ramble on cue, you know.

I’ve recently been entertaining myself by trying to force the history in Harry Potter to make sense. Like, how did the founders manage to build a 14th century castle in Scotland in year 1000 or so??? The obvious answer is that JKR notoriously can’t math and refuses to history, but the crack opportunities are basically endless.

My favourite current theory is that Hogwarts, like most castles, has been rebuilt and extensively renovated several times over the centuries. The original castle was a wooden fortress, which burned down several times, at least twice because everyone was too drunk to put the fire out on time. The stone fortress was built around the 14th century, which means that the actual founders had fuck all to do with it. The Chamber of Secrets is a 16th century addition at the earliest. Nobody in-universe knows or acknowledges this. Mostly because they’re prone to exaggerating their antiquity and ancestry because it translates to importance, but also because their history education has all the relevance and scholarly merit of a documentary about how aliens built the pyramids. They don’t even know that they switched to paper ages ago, because they still keep calling it parchment. The ghosts could talk, but won’t.

Like I said. Endless opportunities. 

Also Sabrina the Teenage Witch holds time surprisingly well and is far more entertaining than the Netflix remake, which only has evil Miranda Otto and Michelle Gomez to speak for it.

[zutaralesbian]

Hey anon. I guess I somehow accidentally deleted your ask because I can’t find it anywhere lol. So I’ll just answer it like this.

Anonymous asked: Black Sails, Zutara, and Jaime Lannister

Black Sails:

Favorite character: Max. But sometimes when I’m deep in my feels, it’s Eleanor. I love my ambitious Slytherin wlw and fandom doesn’t appreciate them enough.

Least Favorite character: Obviously characters like Peter Ashe and Thomas’ father are awful but out of characters who were regulars at one point or another, it’s a tie between Woodes Rogers and Charles Vane. God I hate. And I also hate that Eleanor got stuck with both of them as “love interests”.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Max/Anne, Max/Eleanor, Flint/Thomas….Max/Idelle, Idelle/Featherstone

Character I find most attractive: Max. But all of the Black Sails women are gorgeous. 10/10 would bang all of them.

Character I would marry: Max

Character I would be best friends with: …..Tbh I don’t think I’d personally click with any of them. They’re all very extreme and I’m more laid back lol

a random thought: It’s a good show with an exhausting fandom. Which is a shame considering it’s not a very big fandom to begin with.

An unpopular opinion: I don’t ship Silver/Flint. And I feel like there’s little point to be heavily involved in the fandom because of that since like, 75% of the content is about them. I also don’t really give a shit about any of the male characters except for Flint, Jack, and Mr Scott lol

My Canon OTP: Maxanne I love those lesbians. But Maxanor is a close second.

My Non-canon OTP: Max/Idelle. Also Eleanor/Miranda (fandom converted me to this one)

Most Badass Character: Flint

Most Epic Villain: Eh none of the villains were very compelling to me tbh

Pairing I am not a fan of: Eleanor/Rogers and Eleanor/Vane. The Worst.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I still loved her but….Eleanor. *sighs* Ever since they made her hookup with Rogers her storylines were going downhill.

Favourite Friendship: Flint/Miranda they make me cry. But also just Flint/Women in general.

Character I most identify with: I don’t strongly identify with any of them but I relate to aspects of both Anne and Eleanor. Anne because of how she’s kind of a late blooming lesbian who realized her love for women (and lack of attraction to men) during her twenties. And Eleanor because of her complicated relationship with her father. My dad isn’t as shitty as Mr Guthrie but he is awful and for some reason I can’t make myself completely stop caring about him. That’s why I get so mad when people give Eleanor shit for wanting revenge on Vane for murdering her father. Some people really lack empathy in that regard tbh.

Character I wish I could be: Flint. I’d love to start a war in the name of fighting homophobia.

Zutara:

When I started shipping them: I think it was sometime during my second watch of the series. The first time I watched it was when it was airing and I was just a kid, so I basically just automatically supported the canon pairings lol. But then I watched it again as a young teen after reading Zutara meta and fic and began to see the magic.

My thoughts: I love them so much. The best ship that never was. I love how many parallels they have with each other. The sun and moon symbolism. Their push and pull dynamic. The way they built a friendship in canon based on mutual respect. I could talk all day about why I love this ship tbh

What makes me happy about them: That the Zutara fandom is still going strong and producing great content. It pretty much makes up for it not being canon, honestly.

What makes me sad about them: I feel like Zutara is often very misunderstood as a ship? A lot of people (including Bryke) see it as a “dark ship” and that isn’t how I view them at all. I’m sure there are some people who do and have shipped them in problematic ways (especially back in the day) but most people in this day and age that I've seen ship them in a post redemption way after Zuko and Katara had already become friends. So...that makes me kind of sad lol. Also the way their friendship has been butchered by those stupid comics.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Demonization of Aang and Mai. It's so unnecessary and I like both characters on their own. (Aang is actually in my top 5 ATLA characters). I hate character flanderization in fic in general (even towards characters I don't like) because it's more than often ooc and takes me out of the zone.

Things I look for in fanfic: I think canon divergence and AU's still set in the ATLA universe are my favorite kind of fics to read for ATLA in general. It's an expansive world and story and I think people have a lot of room to be creative with it.

My wishlist: For their friendship to not be ruined in the upcoming live action remake. (I don't have a lot of faith lol)

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: My second favorite ship for Zuko is probably Zukka. But Zuko is so damn shippable as a character that I could come up with plenty of alternatives for him. Katara...with a girlfriend. Or Haru. They had cute potential and I still resent the fact that they gave him that dumb mustache lol.

My happily ever after for them: The two of them getting together a few years after the end of the war after continuing a strong friendship that eventually became romantic. They do marry someday down the line but Katara spends a lot of time going back and forth between the Fire Nation and the South Pole. After Zuko hands over the duties of Fire Lord to their oldest, they end up retiring somewhere between the two nations.

Jaime Lannister:

How I feel about this character: I enjoy him a lot (although when I say this I'm mainly talking about book! Jaime. I didn't know what D&D were doing with him most of the time lol). He's super complex and his arc is one of my favorites out of the books.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Brienne. They are my OTP of ASOIAF. But I'm not expecting a happy ending for them *sighs*

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Tyrion. Their relationship is much more complicated in the books than it was on the show (especially with how they left off with each other) but it still gives me feels.

My unpopular opinion about this character: When it comes to the great Jaime Lannister debate between Jaime/Brienne and Jaime/Cersei shippers (about whether he can be redeemed or not) I'm somewhere in the middle lol. I don't think his arc is one of redemption. And actually, what I think could possibly happen with Jaime/Brienne is that they'll both admit that they love each other but ultimately mutually decide that they can't be together due to how different they are as people. But I also don't agree with the idea that he's not developing at all. And a lot of his development is due in part to his relationship with Brienne.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I hope we get some canon validation of Jaime/Brienne in the books. But not in the shitty way that the show did it.

Favorite friendship for this character: I guess I'm just going to say Tyrion again? It's been a while since I've read the books but I can't think of any hugely impactful Jaime relationships outside of Brienne, Tyrion, and Cersei.

My crossover ship: I don't do crossover ships

Thanks! :)