#Long John Silver from

[purpledisastertwin900]

Shoutout to Tim Curry specifically

[eveningalchemist]

Looking for Long John Silver's coupons shouldn't give me a Black Sails Crisis™ but here I am and now I have to share my insanity and my fried shrimp with yous 🍤

[ragesingoddess]

Odysseus, on his journey home to Ithaca, was visited by a ghost.

[jaynovz]

In discussions about the finale of Black Sails, one of the things I often see is folks hard-focusing on Flint's fate, in an either-or binary fashion, usually presented as "Which do you believe-- that Silver killed him? or sent him to the plantation?"

Now, for posterity's sake, gonna mention a few things-- first off, that's simply not thinking broadly enough. There are farrrr more than two options here and I've come up with my share of the reallyyyyy bad ones for sure. Whatever your mind chooses, none of those are happy endings anyway, there are bittersweet, bad, and worse endings all the way down. (They are paused, they are in a time loop, and also all endings and no endings are happening simultaneously)

But also, the more cogent point is that, it doesn't actually matter what happened *to Flint* The story is... not actually about him at that point. We have transitioned from Flint as protag to Silver as protag, setting up for (the fanfiction that Black Sails has ended up making of, ugh, king shit) Treasure Island.

And so, I just, don't find it to be of particular interest exploring what we think Flint is actually doing or if he's alive for real. What is EXTREMELY interesting to explore though is how Silver's speech at the end to Madi is sort of giving Thomas back to Flint as a pacifier/comfort object, but how... Silver is giving Flint that thing in his own mind as his own type of pacifier/comfort object.

That's the REALLY chewy bit. What actually happens to Flint is not the purpose of that scene for me, of Silver's recounting of events to Madi. It's more about... projection. It's about how Silver is dealing with whatever happened to Flint/whatever he did.

And I just feel like it's missing the point to focus so hard on if Flint is alive or not.

He is the ghost of the story regardless, that's what's important. He's going to haunt the narrative for the rest of everyone's lives. No one has been untouched or unscarred by coming into contact with Captain Flint; he has a forever legacy. I'm not the first to call him this, but he's Schrödinger's Flint and he's staying that way.

But this?

"No. I did not kill Captain Flint. I unmade him. The man you know could never let go of his war. For if he were to exclude it from himself, he would not be able to understand himself. So I had to return him to an earlier state of being. One in which he could function without the war. Without the violence. Without us. Captain Flint was born out of great tragedy. I found a way to reach into the past... and undo it. There is a place near Savannah... where men unjustly imprisoned in England are sent in secret. An internment far more humane, but no less secure. Men who enter these gates never leave them. To the rest of the world, they simply cease to be. He resisted... at first. But then I told him what else I had heard about this place. I was told prominent families amongst London society made use of it. I was told the governor in Carolina made use of it. So I sent a man to find out if they'd used it to hide away one particular prisoner. He returned with news. Thomas Hamilton was there. He disbelieved me. He continued to resist. And corralling him took great effort. But the closer we got to Savannah, his resistance began to diminish. I couldn't say why. I wasn't expecting it. Perhaps he'd finally reached the limits of his physical ability to fight. Or perhaps as the promise of seeing Thomas got closer... he grew more comfortable letting go of this man he created in response to his loss. The man whose mind I had come to know so well... whose mind I'd in some ways incorporated into my own. It was a strange experience to see something from it... so unexpected. I choose to believe it... because it wasn't the man I had come to know at all... but one who existed beforehand... waking from a long... and terrible nightmare. Reorienting to the daylight... and the world as it existed before he first closed his eyes... letting the memory of the nightmare fade away. You may think what you want of me. I will draw comfort in the knowledge that you're alive to think it. But I'm not the villain you fear I am. I'm not him."

This is the speech of a man who is self-soothing, who is spinning himself a tale, who is projecting, who is coping.

and THAT is just, way chewier, innit?

[dykealloy]

Until then, I remain. Long John Silver.

[johnsilvers]

lawrence of arabia (1962) // black sails (2014-2017)

[wexhappyxfew]

the waiting game

(a/n): HELLO FRIENDS!!!!! how is everyone?!?!?! it has been a minute since i've been able to put writing out but! i finished my summer internship and took a vacay too and i'm back to do some more writing! :) i have one more prompt to put out that is taking me some time to rewrite/edit, but i wanted to start with putting out a piece for annie x brady for AGES AGO!!!! i wrote it maybe back in march/april and it never got posted so, i cleaned it up and wanted to put it out!! PLUS it features annie x brady being adorable beans and some cameos from other Silver Bullets members just being their normal, chaotic selves haha. so please enjoy that!!!! :D

Algeria was hot as fuck.

The belly of Silver Bullets could only provide so much shade as they waited for the 12th to show up.

Too hot inside the fort, too hot outside the fort, the strip of shade providing what it could, especially with the sun moving from east to west and the atmosphere simply being one thing - hot.

Annie lounged beneath the shaded nose of the plane, leg bent up with her other leg crossed over top, aviators over her eyes as she stared at the smoke from her cigarette, curling upwards towards the bright blue sky, half covered by the nose of the B-17. Her shorts were filled with sand, her tank top a size too big and equally covered in sand and parts of her skin were either dried out or burnt and peeling. A lot of the others were in a much similar or slightly worse state - sun burnt, sweating and coarse sand all over; anywhere you could think and it was there. Something kicked at her foot.

"Hey, you alive?" Annie looked up and found Francis there, aviators and that stupid hat Major Egan was also walking around wearing on his head.

"I am in fact living and breathing," Annie said, and then placed the cigarette on her lip, "you look ridiculous." Francis smirked and then came and settled down on the ground beside Annie and sighed.

"This was all his idea, if I must say," Francis said as Annie passed her the cigarette and she took a puff, "you know as they say, if you wanna look stupid, look stupid together." Annie snorted and glanced over towards Francis.

"So, any update?"

"None. Absolutely nothing. Oh, someone from Brady's crew is trying to train a goat to stand on its hind-legs. Otherwise, no, no news."

"Great." Annie said and glanced back towards the nose of Silver Bullets, her mind drifting briefly to that glance her and Brady had shared a few nights ago after landing, his eyes soft, his face worn with exhaustion, the slight smile on the corners of his cheeks, "Who the hell is training the goat?" Francis let out a snort and sighed, picking up a handful of sand and dropping it to the ground again.

"I don't know, I think one of their waist gunners," Francis said nonchalantly, "Brady's encouraging him. Either way, it was funny as hell trying to see those two trying to tame a goat. It was a treat, that's all I gotta say." Annie chuckled and took back the cigarette and blew out a puff. Her mind wandered - everyone was hot, a little moody, waiting for some fresh water, or a meal that wasn't hot as anything. The waiting game was only fun so many times before you were waiting to lead a horse to water where it wouldn't drink.

"We get water?"

"Yeah, some," Francis said, "I think Mari and Judy are helping Benny to pass some out. Want me to grab you some?"

"Nah, I can get it." Annie said and then slowly sat up, her head swimming a bit from the mixture of sweat and equally, heat exhaustion.

"No you're not," Francis said, "honey, you're burnt up like a fried pepper. Stay here." Annie pulled a face.

"It's just a little bit of sun-burn, I've had worse." Annie said and Francis shot her a look, even from behind the aviators, that told her to stay still.

"Don't start moving around, alright, I'll be back." Annie watched Francis leave, before lying back down on her back and staring up again at the nose of good ole Silver Bullets, before shutting her eyes. A few minutes of shut-eye might be worthwhile.

"Annie." Her eyes shot open and she found Brady standing there above her. Eyes widening rather dramatically, she flushed a bit and shifted.

"John, hey." she said, suddenly realizing her fetal-position-like posture there on the ground and blinked a few times before, slowly sitting up, head swimming and then getting to her feet, to which Brady placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, which made her hiss, the sun-burn burning a bit from his warm hand.

"Oh, shit," Brady said, immediately removing his hand, "I just wanted to steady you-"

"No, no, thank you, it's okay. You're okay, thank you." Annie said as she glanced towards her shoulder, at the skin beginning to peel up, grimacing a bit as she looked towards him, "Sunburn that's all." Brady looked at her through his own aviators and she suddenly took him in there in front of her - shirtless - not exactly something she was complaining about or should even be thinking too deeply into.

It was hot. The sun was brutal, you basically wanted as little layers on as possible, and they all smelled generally, not too great. But Brady being shirtless was yeah….definitely a sight worth glancing at considering the circumstances where everything was simply draining.

She flushed deeper, and hoped it would pass off as heat exhaustion if anything as she watched Brady cross his arms, the evidently toned muscles of his arms extending far greater into her line of sight than she would've thought.

"You need me to get a bandage for it or something?" Brady asked her, "Some water to pour on it?" Annie stared at him and then wised-up and shook her head.

"It's alright, really, no worries," she said, and then cleared her throat, "how's it going? What's up?" Brady smiled and then shook his head.

"That's what I came to ask you, but now you have me considering scrounging bandages." he said, placing his hands on his hips, "Don't mind stepping up to the plate."

"Don't be telling that to Kennedy, she'll start a ball game in this heat and next thing you know we'll all be burnt." Annie said with a smirk and Brady chuckled at her words. She tilted her head to the side and considered his help - he was already standing in her presence, he didn't need to do much else.

"I'm fine really though, save the bandages. For a serious issue." she told him with a small smile and he shook his head.

"It could get worse." he told her, face falling to a pinch of worry that you had to see if you squinted, crossing his arms again - really nice arms, "C'mon, let me find something. Hey…..Stagliano!"

Paulina Stagliano, ever-the-presently-always-pissed person she was, sat under one of the wings of Silver Bullets sat up and lifted her aviators, her curly hair that was out of its usual braids, looking like it'd been just dumped in a bucket of water, sticking to her cheeks, glanced at him.

"What the hell do you possibly want me from me, sir!" she hollered, voice bouncing off the nearby metal of the plane.

"Bandages!" Brady called back, "For your pilot!"

"That was a little unneeded, John," Annie said, giving his shoulder a shove and he turned to her with that wide grin and shook his head, "really, the girls know I'm fine, that's what matters."

"You're their pilot. And also one of the 100ths, I'll look out for ya, alright?" Well, there was no use arguing anymore at this point. Paulina came hauling over with a few packs of bandages she kept at the radio station in the fort and smacked it into Brady's hands with a grumble.

"Why you always gotta say it like that? Because you know I'll come running, sir?" Paulina murmured crossing her arms.

"Because I know you like to carry extra things with ya - bobby pins, bottle caps, postcards and figured you also had bandages."

"Right." Paulina said and then deadpanned, "Sir, why the hell you need bandages."

"Not me," Brady said, "Bradshaw." Paulina looked to Annie and then smirked.

"Right, Mr. Chivalrous." Paulina said, "Lieutenant Brady, when did you become such a softy-schmuck." Brady gave her a look.

"Ask me again during business hours."

"News-flash, Lieutenant, we are on business hours." Brady glanced her way and Paulina raised a brow, "Just make sure you wrap the bandages real nicely, okay? No need getting infections in this hell hole. This is my pilot we're talking about." Paulina sighed and shook her head, squinting into the sun, "For Christ-sake." And with that, Paulina was wading back over to her spot on the ground. Brady turned to look back at Annie and found her looking after Paulina.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Annie said quickly, "just….worried about some of the women. Like usual." Brady chuckled and then flicked through some of the bandages in his grasp.

"Well, you don't have to worry anymore at the minute. Let someone else worry about you for now." he said and she glanced at him, "You need help putting these on?" Annie stared, and then shook her head.

"Nah, I got it." she said and took the bandages, "Really, you didn't have to get these, I'll be fine-"

"Annie, if you say you'll be fine, one more damn time, I'm actually going to lose it." Francis said coming over with two canteens filled with water, "Lieutenant Brady, pleasure to see you here." Francis said glancing at him before looking back at Annie, "You gotta take care of yourself better. I can't be playing co-pilot and single-mother out here."

"I'm fine, Francis, really, I'll throw some bandages and water on to cool the burns down and we'll move on from this. It'll heal." Annie admonished and watched as Francis side-eyed, glancing at Brady before looking back at Annie.

"I will hand-apply those bandages on Annie I swear to-"

"I'll take care of it." Brady said calmly, cutting in and taking the bandages out of Annie's hands and one of the tins of water from Francis' grasp, "Go sit down for a bit, I'll help her out." Francis looked from Annie to Brady and then nodded.

"Alright, then." Francis said and then glanced at Brady and pointed a finger at him, "Wrap it tight, Brady, I don't wanna see exposed bits of sun-burn, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Brady said, snickering as Francis wandered away and lied down beside Bessie on the ground.

Brady turned to Annie and then poured water on his hands before opening up the bandages. Annie suddenly took in the fact it was the two of them; it always ended up being the two of them somehow - like back at base, when the night got long, and it was the last of the group at the bar; it was the two of them. The one night the group had gone out to look at the stars, sharing cigarettes, stories and drinks, the last of the group had simply been the two of them, a few glances that had Annie second-guessing a bit too much for her liking. It was always the two of them.

Annie caught a glance at his bare chest in the golden, honey sun again and looked away, her cheeks, if they weren't already burning from heat exhaustion or sunburn, flaming red.

"So, liking Algeria?" Annie asked him as he began to work. Brady chuckled and glanced up at her, overtop the Aviators and smirked.

"It's hot as anything, so….not my favorite, but…I'm not dying so, can't complain." Annie laughed.

"Got that right." Annie said quietly and she watched him smile as he gently placed the bandages on the sunburn and then continued to do the same until the majority of the sunburn was mostly covered, and then pressed down the edges before looking at her. He was standing so close to her, and she was sure she must've smelled like sweat, metal and blood and almost wished she was still lying on the ground, in fetal-position with Francis bugging her about the water.

"Handy-work, huh?" he said softly, "You need some water?"

"Thanks." she said as she took the canteen from him and took down some water, before pulling down the canteen and then looking at Brady, who was staring her down from her angle.

"I appreciate the concern over my sunburn," she said with a small smile as she screwed the canteen lid on, and Brady offered a quick smile, "but, your boys okay?"

"Yeah," Brady said, "Jacobs was trying to train a goat." Annie laughed.

"I heard."

"Francis?"

"Yeah." Annie said with a laugh, "So, how's that going?"

"Eh, could be going better," Brady said with a laugh, "funny though to watch a grown man chase around a goat with a piece of bread, trying to get the goat to stand on its hind legs." Annie laughed, before looking at him with a smile. That look, it made it her stomach twist.

"You managed to get any rest?" she asked him quietly; no one could really sleep it seemed just because of the circumstances, so when someone did, it was a small victory for the 100th it seemed altogether.

"A bit." Brady said, "Keep ending up with sand all up my nose when I get up though, you?"

"Here and there," Annie said, "it's why I was so surprised to see you, to be honest. I was half-asleep."

"Sorry 'bout that." Brady said quickly, with a grin and Annie laughed.

"It's fine, really, it's….it's nice to see you." she said and they fell quiet for a brief moment, Brady smiling at her with one of those closed-lipped grins he usually wore. Something seemed to shift between them. Brady took a small step closer and dropped his voice to the point only she could hear.

"Saw your plane take some hits flying out here….everyone okay?" Are you okay? His eyes begged the question.

"For the most part." Annie said managed quietly back, "I just think we're all glad to have made it. Thought at first we'd be going down somewhere over Italy - one of the engines….it's that stubborn third engine is always crapping out but…." Brady watched her, as the two fell quiet, the tension in the air between them overwhelming and suffocating. She couldn't help but take in a few shaky breaths, watching as he stared at her, their aviators suddenly the only thing between them it felt.

"Listen, Annie, I've been meaning to ask you-"

"Hey! Guys, it's the 12th!" Annie and Brady looked around the front of Silver Bullets, and there they were - the 12th. Coming in, like rolling thunder, dust kicking up all over the place in the far distance.

"Well, looks like we'll be heading home." Annie said, glancing over towards Brady with a small smile. The look on his face was hidden with something else she couldn't quite decipher, but instead he smiled and crossed his arms.

"Heading home." he echoed.

Heading home - wherever that seemed to be these days.

[etoilesombre]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw Additional Tags: BDSM as Character Study, Under-negotiated Kink, Humiliation, Angst, sub!Flint, Insecure Top John Silver, (no but imagine how stressful topping Flint would be), Gunplay, Object Insertion, mention of lots of other kink, Past childhood sexual abuse, Discussion of Past Abuse, past Flint/Hennessey, trauma responses, Sub Drop, Sort Of, Heavy Alcohol Use, Drunk Sex, Oral Sex, thigh fucking, some fluff at the end Series: Part 3 of Kinkmeme-Verse Summary:

Prompt: Flint and Silver fucking, with Flint so deep in subspace he couldn't find his way out if he tried. And then Silver does something unintentional that crashes him out of it. Subdrop, a lot of helpless but caring and trying Silver, bonus points for them finishing sexytimes out of the subspace once they both calmed down. No infantilization or daddy kink please. Can be canon or modern, dealer's choice.

After Charles Town, Silver and Flint become intimately familiar with each other’s pain. A mutually beneficial arrangement helps Flint cope, and provides Silver with a much needed outlet. Eventually, though, difficult memories are brought to the surface, forcing Flint to confront his past. Silver is there to help him pick up the pieces.

[finngualart]

the fact that i never finished this painting i started in 2018 kept haunting me (much like Black Sails itself), and now i can finally put it to rest

it goes with @old-long-john's beautiful fic, which you can read here

[terrence-silver]

Boys.

[jamie-elbowz]

Is this Entrapment?

My Mom Today: I can't understand where all this "trans" stuff of yours came from. My Mom Every Halloween of my childhood: Who's ready to watch Rocky Horror Picture Show!

Like girl, how you going to set me up like that? Damn

[saintflint]

teju cole, blind spot / black sails (2014 — 2017)

[get-back-homeward]

April 1960: John and Paul record a band practice on a Grundig reel-to-reel recorder at the McCartney home. Contributors are in dispute but are thought to include at least Stuart Sutcliffe on bass. The tape of this practice ends up in Astrid Kirchherr's possession and may have been a practice tape for Stuart as he was learning bass. It’s later released as part of a bootleg, The Braun-Kirchherr Tapes.

[lil-melody-moon]

I just might watch "Treasure Island" tomorrow 👉👈

I think googling "Robert Newton" to just see how he looked like was a tiny mistake - bigger one was checking a fragment of "Long John Silver" from 1954 for video and audio quiality

[noknowshame]

an epiphany: Silver does not, and cannot, have a backstory, simply because he is the archetypal pirate. and pirates do not have histories.

I do a lot of research on pirate history in my free time, and one thing that has always really struck me is just how little we have to go off of. We do have primary source records of their exploits - primarily reports from the crews of ships they attacked, and if they were unlucky enough, transcripts from their trials and executions , but as soon as you ask "well, who were they before they were pirates?", almost always, there is simply nothing to draw up, even for the most famous of figures. Calico Jack Rackham appears on the scene in 1718, already Charles Vane's quartermaster, with nothing to say of where he came from. Samuel Bellamy sailed from Cape Cod to raid the treasure-wreck of the Urca d'Lima, but his life in Massachusetts is marred in speculation. Blackbeard made landfall in Nassau soon after the War of Spanish Succession, but so many pirates used pseudonyms that we cannot even be sure that his real name was Edward Teach. All we can say is maybe, maybe, maybe.

so of course Silver, being the icon that we can trace nearly all of our modern conceptions of piracy to, would have no past. the real ones didn't either. As far as written history is concerned, the sea conjured them up. Even if their stories were not unremarkable, they were simply... without relevance.

[littlecrabbs]

He just needs a minute to explain.