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lupismaris · 1 year

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The Opening Act of Spring- a Black Sails Fic. Chapter 2

Welcome to Chapter 2 (yes its been a long time coming its been a helluva year) in which Anne comes collecting a very defeated Silver and brings him a little more up to speed on everyone’s lives five-ish years after the Urca Gold Heist

A harsh spray of ice water woke Silver the next morning, the skies opening up in a thunderous downpour. It left him gasping for air as he tried to sit up, his one good leg slipping on porcelain as he threw his arms over his face, muffling the flustered curses he uttered.

“Morning,” came a dry voice, dripping with thorough amusement. “You look like right shit.”

The water shut off and Silver, after a moment’s hesitation, given that he entirely expected the downpour to resume the second his arms lowered, peered over his forearm.

A woman stood there, slim and androgynous in her loose fitting men’s jeans with torn up knees and boxy t-shirt, cuffed at the shoulders. Her long red hair, fine as a spider’s web, was pulled up in a careless bun atop her head. On her hip, looped through the belt loop of her jeans, hung a black trucker hat with the name of a bar, and a carabiner heavy with keys and pepper spray. A heavy industrial chain hung on the opposite hip, her street legal answer to brass knuckles, Silver guessed. She smiled down at him, if the sharp toothed grin of an alley cat could be considered a smile, and crossed her tattooed arms over her chest as she leaned against the bathroom wall.

“Anne?” He croaked by way of greeting.

“Morning, jackass. Your sister wants to see you. Rise’n’fuckin shine then.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“The fuck did you turn the shower on for?”

“The fuck you sleeping in the bathtub for?” Anne replied. “Practically begged me to douse you. Was it the old better to puke in here than the carpet bit?”

Silver groaned and tried to sit up, grabbing at the sides of the bathtub to pull himself forward. His vision swam a little but he could see the bottle of whiskey sitting at the other end of the tub, three quarters empty.

That would explain the pressure behind his eyes then, the pulsing rhythm in his temples, the dryness in his throat, heaviness in his limbs.

“Seemed smarter,” he said. “Not a good time, hopping n’crawling to hurl on something you can clean n’all that shit.” He sighed and looked up at her again, then at the shower. “Actually can you just-”

Anne switched the shower on and Silver sighed as the cold water washed over him, soaking through the pillows and blanket that he’d had the presence of thought to grab the night before, to make passing out in the bathtub a smidge less miserable. He’d slept in less comfortable places truth be told, bedrooms floors, back rooms of bars, store closets, dingy bathrooms at rest stops. This tub was practically a queen size bed in comparison, he told himself, rolling his neck and savoring the click of vertebrae releasing one by one.

After a few minutes he waved a hand and the water switched off, Anne dropping a towel on his head unceremoniously.

“I’d recommend a proper shower if you can be quick about it. You smell like cheap booze.”

“I feel like cheap booze.” Silver held out his hand and without a word Anne took it, bracing her boot clad feet against the marble floor so Silver could leverage himself up onto his good foot, his other hand gripping the artistic safety rail on the wall. “Just grabbed what was easiest from a shop on the way.”

“Clearly,” Anne said. Once Silver was steady on his one foot she reached down and grabbed the sodden pillows and blanket, tossing them aside. Silver was grateful she didn’t comment on his lack of clothing, even to just make fun, but then living with Rackham and Vane she was probably used to a certain level of uncouth male nudity. She passed him the light-weight bathroom stool the room had provided, and once that was situated, a mug of black coffee. Silver guessed it came from the hotel room, it was nice enough to have a little kitchenette corner though he hadn’t bothered to really look it over the night before.

“Shower,” she said firmly. “Drink your coffee. I’ll find you some clothes.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

Silver pulled the curtain shut and switched on the water, before taking a seat. The tub was pressed against the wall with a window at the head of it, thick tinted privacy film covering the glass so that, even with the lights on the view from outside would be obscured. Silver set his mug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of whiskey and opened the window, breathing in the cool spring air. They were high enough up on the 28th floor that the smog was mild, the traffic sounds below muffled some into an ambient drone.

He’d fled back to his little midtown hotel room the night before, taking a winding route from The Village, on foot, on the train, just in case Flint had decided to follow him after all. After two hours of wandering and a sense that while he wasn’t safe he at least wasn’t being followed, he grabbed his things, checked out, and headed for the address printed on the card Rackham had given him. Some swanky place on the Upper West Side as it turned out, not quite in the same neighborhood as his sister’s condo but an easy enough walk, or better still an easier Taxi ride.

So he reasoned he must have checked in, but how it had gone he didn’t clearly remember. The dissociative fog that had carried him into a taxi in Midtown, oversized duffle under his arm and his only suitcase with his collapsible crutches carefully stowed in the trunk, had persisted all the way until Anne had woken him. There were clearer moments than others, sure. Greeting the pretty brunette at the front desk, who welcomed him as Mister Robinson and asked how his flight in from San Francisco had gone. The feel of the bottle in his hand, bourbon from the second to last shelf, as the man behind the counter passed it and a two packs of cigarettes over the counter to him. He vaguely remembered the smell of fried food- had he eaten dinner?

“Get a move on Silver!” Anne called from the next room.

Silver sighed, wiped water out of his eyes, and chugged half of his coffee. He reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured a shot or two into the mug and sighed.

He was already considering his return to the Western Hemisphere a mistake.

Twenty minutes later, Silver was lighting a cigarette on the street corner, freshly showered, medicated, and dressed in the old jeans and off-white Henley that Anne had dug out of his duffle. He’d pulled his curls up with a claw clip and hid his aching eyes from the morning sun behind old over-sized shades he’d stolen from someone at a party once.

Anne snagged his lighter and pack of cigarettes, helping herself to one. “There’s a decent egg’n’cheese shop on the way. She’s working so you’ll probably have to wait for lunch.”

“S’fine. By the way I get one good shot in at your man. He deserves it.”

“Dick is off limits or else Chaz’ll be cross but yeah, fair enough.” Anne puffed at her cigarette before offering him a grimace. He took it for the sympathy it was. “Break his nose though and I’ll rescind my blessing.”

“Fine. Did you know he was gonna pull that?”

“Nah. Thought he’d do something stupid but didn’t think he’d go just- full blitz stupid. Thought Flint was gonna skin him alive and send him home to us in deli paper,” she laughed as they fell into an easy stride. Anne had always been good about Silver’s somewhat slower gait, never making it seem like a nuisance or hindrance, always being the first to fall back with him on nights out.

Silver looked up at the sky, watching as slivers of clouds fought their way through the towering rooftops of stone and metal. “And did he?”

“Nah, Jack just said he seemed shaken, so much so that he forgot to be angry. Didn’t even say anything to Jack just said goodbye to that chef guy and bolted.”

“Hilarious.”

Anne shrugged, turning them down a side street of residential buildings. “Maybe. Not like he’d have done anything, can’t risk the attention. And he knows better, his husband would have his cock in a vice faster than he could utter his safe word.”

She smiled around her cigarette as she said it, glancing sideways at Silver for his reaction. The idea that anyone, let alone the great Pacifist Saint that Thomas Hamilton was rumored to be, could have Flint on so tight a leash was laughable to Silver. Even he, when they had been one malformed creature, hadn’t managed to keep Flint on a leash like that, nor would he have wanted to. You didn’t cage a wild and beautiful thing after all, you found it a proper home, etcetera, etcetera.

“Why can’t he risk the attention?” Silver asked instead. “He’s got a clean record, same as you lot. Nothing would flag if he got brought in on disturbing the peace.”

“Just because you got a clean record doesn’t mean you can go ‘round tossing known associates off rooftops whenever they piss you off. Much as we all wish that weren’t the case some days.”

“Then why bother keeping tabs on each other at all?”

The street opened up onto Broadway, where they stopped for bagels and coffee before turning southward. Anne led the way, keeping the route somewhat winding. It was an old habit, one Silver maintained, one that he knew Flint likely practiced as well. Even if they weren’t being followed they still threw an extra block or two into the route to avoid congested areas and obvious details to their end destinations.

So when their path took them to the South end of Riverside park, Silver wasn’t all that surprised. It was a nice change from the concrete and polished glass, the midmorning crowds emerging from offices for their coffee runs or early lunches, the tourists pouring out of the 72nd street station.

He felt steadier with food in his stomach, the greasy perfectly balanced egg’n’cheese (he’d bought two of them and inhaled the first before they reached the park) soaking up the last of the bourbon with grace and flourish. He lit another cigarette and sipped his coffee, the slightly burnt taste a perfect accompaniment to tobacco.

Alright maybe, just maybe, he’d missed the little details of life in a grungy city.

“Why are you keeping tabs on Flint?” he asked again, once Anne had finished her food.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “We’re not.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nah it’s not keeping tabs, it’s more like- tentative alliance.”

Silver stopped in his tracks. “A what?”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t look at me like that, it’s just this thing your sister and him agreed to- same city n’all. We keep an eye out for him, he keeps an eye out for us, for old times’ sake, and no one gets hurt. No stepping on toes, sends info our way if theres anything we should know about, clients for your sister to pitch designs to, shit like that.”

“Flint doesn’t help people for no reason.”

“I’m not saying he does.” Anne shrugged. “I’m just saying he’s mellowed out a bit, you know, know he’s getting a good fuck regularly?” Silver scowled at her. “Was that mean? That was mean wasnit?”

“And you all trust him because?”

“He’s got no reason to fuck around these days. He’s retired, same as us, plenty on the line to lose.” She shrugged again. “So we help each other out a bit. Not gonna say it’s trust, but It does mean we get invitations to their swanky dinner parties n’shit.”

The face Silver made sent Anne into a short fit of wheezing laughter, hiding her mouth behind her coffee cup.

“Dinner parties? Jesus fucking Christ- who are you Martha Stewart?”

“Oh you think thats bad? Chaz has a fuckin job now-”

She timed it well, waiting until Silver took a swing of his coffee, knowing it would would garner so much genuine shock that he would likely choke on it. Anne’s laughter, crackling and rough-edged, rang out loud as Silver coughed, trying to clear his throat.

“He has a what? The old bayou bastard has a what?” Silver demanded. “You’re fucking with me! You have to be fucking with me- Anne please tell me you’re fucking with me-”

A world in which Charles Vane had an honest job was not one in which Silver wanted to live, at least, he was pretty sure of that. Charles Vane was the last bastion of hill country, bayou basin, working class freedom, white man edition, who held no job, no credit cards, no permanent address, and no legitimate Government ID. His Fakes were better than any you could buy but Silver would wager a hefty sum that he didn’t have a social security number and if they went looking, probably wasn’t even listed in the citizenship records under a legal name these days. He’d burned off his finger prints as a teenager to make sure they’d never be found at a crime scene, just in case he happened to slip up badly enough that the cops would track him down. Why would he be at a crime scene you ask? None of your concern, he’d answer. To Silver’s knowledge, the likelihood of cops catching him was so slim that Vane had to start the fight himself for the cops to even know he existed most days.

Or at least, that had been the Charles Vane Silver had come to know, in a dusty beach hut in old Nassau, quietly day drinking while Flint tried to convince him of the greater good. That conversation had ended, as most did back then, in a brawl. Silver didn’t remember the winner.

“I am not.” Anne shook her head. “He has a fuckin’ job. Wanna guess where?”

“Not really. Still having trouble wrapping my head around them finger printing a man without finger prints. Or making him sit through HR Training, can you fucking imagine?”

“I don’ think they have HR training for line cooks.”

Silver made a face as he thought about it, trying to picture Vane in a busy kitchen, surrounded by equally stressed out and strange people, tattooed and strung out, with their own code of ethics known only to them.

“Actually no that- that I can absolutely see. Line cook suits him. Constant access to sharp dangerous objects. Something always on fire. Questionably legal substances. Only demographic more bat shit than he is.”

“Flint gave him the job.”

“Oh fuck off, what?”

Anne smiled, the small almost grimace. “Yeah. At his bar.”

“He- he owns a bar.” She nodded. “That’s his big retirement gig? A bar?”

“Yeah he opened it few years back with that old quartermaster of his, wass’is name-”

They made their way through the park as they talked, passing little pods of nannies with their charges in brightly colored designer strollers, joggers out with their dogs, the occasional remote employee making use of the open lawns and calm spring day to get some work done outside of their shoe box apartments. Silver felt more queasy than he had before his breakfast, all the new information racketing around his aching head, his stomach churning with confusion and a sense of- well, unreality. Everything he had been certain of, everyone he had been sure of, was suddenly beginning to unravel around him in the strangest of ways and he felt as if he was left to grasp at the threads, flimsy and fraying in his hands.

“His quartermaster? You don’t mean Gates do you?” he asked. It couldn’t be Gates, there was no way in hell that Hal Gates, of all men, would be in New York running a business with James Flint of all people.

“Mm yeah that’s the one, short bear of a man, bald? Mutton chop sort of thing?” Anne asked, running her knuckles along her jaw to mimic the rather iconic facial hair of the one and only Hal Gates. “Yeah he and Flint co-own a place across the river. Flint gave Chaz a job last year when he got picked up by the-”

Silver felt dizzy, his prosthetic aching as it pressed against his knee. He wasn’t listening to Anne anymore, as she explained, no doubt, the very interesting story of how Vane came to work for the man he once hated and who had once hated him in turn, tentative alliance aside. No, Silver was having too much trouble processing the fact that Hal Gates, father to all and longest suffering man alive, who had walked away from a fortune all because Flint required, if Silver remembered his words correctly, “too much heartbreak to believe in these days”, was not only back in Flint’s life, but committed to him again in anyway shape or form.

He could still clearly remember the way Flint’s hands had looked wrapped around Gates’ throat, the empty, wild look in his eyes, the softly spoken words that had made Flint stop before it was too late.

“You good?”

Anne’s voice cut in on his thoughts with sharp precision. Silver blinked, the world around them coming back into violent focus, leaving him reeling. Anne was watching him patiently, her eyes tired with a lifetime of ghosts behind them. He knew he didn’t have to explain, knew she got lost in her thoughts as often as he did. But even so, it never felt good to get lost so easily. He prided himself on his ability to be present, to keep his wits to tightly controlled that his will was greater than any god’s, and yet-

He was rattled.

“I wasn’t ready. For him,” he admitted in a small voice. “For Flint. For anyone to have just… Forgiven him for everything and moved on.”

Anne nodded. “S’fair. None of this is gonna be easy. Wasn’t easy for us in the beginning. Still weird at times. But, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that they win if we let them. And we let them by holding on to these wounds, these… failings.”

They.

What a simple all encompassing term. It could mean the world at large, it could mean Rogers and the the Bankers who had tried to run them all into early graves. It could mean Flint.

Whatever it meant to Anne, whatever it meant to Silver, the point remained. It was for Silver to decide what victory he allowed them, what space he made in his life for them. If he chose to face it, chose to do what Anne and the others had done, in whatever way he saw fit, chose to face the things left unsaid rather than running, then at least it would be on his terms, and no one else's.

“Besides. I can’t speak for Gates, or the others, I’m not them. Ain’t never had much Issues with the man. But Flint- he’s been alright.” Anne continued, once the distraught look on Silver’s face lessened and they began to walk again. “Mind’s his manners well enough. If you need information or resources he’ll get you what you need. My money says he’s done the therapy gauntlet a bit with his husband but that’s just a guess. You know how you can tell when people use them big words n’all?”

Flint in Therapy, that was almost more ridiculous a thought than Vane with a job.

“All I’m saying, retirement suits him well enough, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised.”

“That’s if he doesn’t strangle me on sight,” Silver replied. “You all seem to be forgetting things didn’t exactly end a la When Harry Met Sally for us.” Anne frowned. “I ditched and he’s pissed, remember? Not exactly a rom com ending that’s gonna make him swoon when I walk in his front door, carrots.”

Anne rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Not if you keep avoiding him it’s not. That’s just gonna goad him on, I tell you right now.”

“Let it. I think if anyone can avoid him it’s me. Been doing it just fine for the past five years I think I can manage just fine a bit longer.”

The curve of Riverside park brought them back up to street level, alongside the elegant prewar buildings that lined the boulevard, wrought iron balconies with the first shocks of spring greenery reaching out to the morning sun. Anne tossed her empty coffee cup into the bin on the corner and held out her hand, Silver passing her his pack of cigarettes and lighter without pause.

“Sure you can,” she said around a cigarette, pausing to light it. Silver watched as the sparks lit her face, embers glowing against bright sea glass eyes, freckles turned to ash across the bridge of her nose. She lifted her head and looked skyward, looking for something unknown to him, finding it, and smiled sadly. “You’ll keep running, he’ll keep chasing you. His husband will let him, even.”

She pulled out another cigarette and passed the pack back to Silver, waiting until he opened his mouth to argue, knowing he would, to place the cigarette in his mouth. Rackham, who wasn’t a smoker in the traditional sense, fell for the trick often and really, Silver should have seen it coming. He fixed her with a tired look behind his sunglasses as she lit the cigarette and continued.

“You’ll run and run ‘til your heart gives out or he dies of old age n’grief, which ever comes first,” she said casually, as if they were the only two in the world, unbothered by the people walking past, “and the guilt you tell yourself goes away, eventually, will finally catch up with you when you get the obituary in the post, or he turns up at your deathbed confessional. Whichever way you like it, Silver, you’ll get it, you always do.”

“I didn’t want this, Anne.”

“Yes you did. You convinced yourself of it, because it was easy, because you couldn’t cock it up,” She scoffed, “can’t cock up what you don’t commit to, mm? Please, you ain’t the only one who’s been running for a lifetime. Ain’t the only one who knows the tricks. Don’t act like you and your neurosis are somehow all that unique.”

“You didn’t leave Max. Or Rackham,” he reminded her. “You had the chance to do both.”

“Didn’t have to. They both tried it with me,” she replied, taking a long drag from her smoke.

Silver stood there in silence for a moment, letting his own smoke burn out in his fingers. There had always been and uncanny familiarity between the two redheads. They were incredibly different, no mistake to be made about that, unbearably different. But there had been moments, since the inception of it all, when shadows would cross Anne’s face, or a light might hit Flint’s eyes, a weight in her slim shoulders, a grace in his hips, a violence and a loneliness in them both- and Silver would be struck by an unnerving sense they should have, in another world, been siblings.

Of course the notion that Anne was, in this moment, able to sympathize more readily with his Ex than himself was less of a comfort than he liked and the unnerving familiarity was bordering on slightly terrifying, if Silver was going to be honest.

“Face him, or don’t. Fuck if I care in the end, unless you drag us into it and then I will have you by the balls,” Anne said flatly. “But you’re wasting a hell of a lot of time, aren’t you? Running? And for what?”

She turned and kept walking before Silver could reply, making it abundantly clear that the conversation, and any advice she was willing to give, was over. Silver was left standing on the street corner for a moment, watching fellow pedestrians hurry past, cars crawl along the boulevard with their echoing engines, the cigarette still burning out in his fingers.

He sighed and took a drag from it, waiting for a gap in traffic before jaywalking across to the next block to rejoin Anne, who was lurking in the shadows of a flower shop awning, buying a bouquet of irises.

He was far too hungover for this.

#my fic #Jamie's Fic Prompt Fills #opening act of spring bs mdau fic #black sails fic #john silver #anne bonny #black sails modern au #james flint #so i ended up breaking the chapter into 2 and 3 it was neater than one massive chapter #but god i loved writing anne so much this bit was so satisfying #yes theres a lot of people telling silver hes being an idiot in the beginning or telling him their view of matters because he didn't listen #it lightens up in the after the next chapter somewhat though he keeps making assumptions

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chirpsythismorning · 2 years

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Penholdergate is pretty much bones at this point, but I'm bored so

Now, I'm not saying that cryptic game the ST writers had going on was actually at all related to the pen of possibility from Anne with an E.

Initially, I thought it was weird they put this emphasis on it being a penholder. Like yes, you can put pens in it, and it can be referred to as such, but idk. I've just never heard it actually be called that, especially when it's surrounded by expo markers on a whiteboard? But anyways, whatever.

Could it all be a joke? Yes. Could it be hinting at something we have to look at deeper in order to figure out? Perhaps.

But, because I literally couldn't think of anything, my brain went straight to the pen of possibility and that took me on a whole different trip.

When promoting season 3 of Anne with an E, Amybeth hinted at the pen of possibility playing a significant role, even sneaking the pen emoji in a q&a, which she posted a week before the final episode aired.

Basically this whole penholder fiasco reminded me of AWAE in general, which makes this the perfect opportunity for me to ramble about how it could end up being one of many inspirations for ST5.

Them casting Amybeth and the Duffer's making a point to say they were big fans of AWAE means it's on their radar at the very least.

I’m also fairly certain they've watched it after recently finding out that, the first time Vickie was mentioned in ST4, during the boobies scene with Robin and Steve, the song Object of My Desire plays.

I kid you not, when Amybeth was announced for the role, I made a playlist of songs I hoped could potentially play during a Vickie scene (because they were released on or close to 1986). And Object of My Desire was one song in particular that I thought would be a cool easter egg/homage to AWAE, since the title matches fairly on point with Gilbert's letter to Anne in the last episode of the series.

If you haven't watched AWAE, I highly recommend it. It's surprisingly very queer and just beautiful all around. There's a lot of care put into all the storylines, both romantic, platonic and familial. I can see why the Duffer's would be fans because AWAE very much follows similar rules of storytelling as ST.

If you also aren't aware, the show is based on Anne of Green Gables, which is a book from 1908. It ended up being an 8 part book series, spanning decades from Anne's childhood to her adulthood, and with a lot of adaptations made based on it over the next century. One TV mini-series from 1985 in particular is especially beloved.

The original book from 1908 has also been referenced in ST itself, with Hopper having read it to both his daughter and then El later on.

And so it wasn't much of a surprise that the creator of AWAE wanted to do something different than the dozens of versions before it, by going more in depth into what was truly going on back then, but most likely wasn't explored fully for that very reason. And even despite all the backlash from Anne purists saying they ruined the story with woke-ness, the writers didn't give a fuck (sound familiar?).

Also, I want to say that a popular headcanon for Anne is that she was queer, as the writing of her does feel very much like she loved Diana in a way that wasn't acceptable back then (she talks about dreading the day Diana goes off and gets married, like she has literal nightmares about it...). With the books being written in the 1900's, and written by a woman, it wasn't an option to even tell a story from that perspective, without it being at most subtextual.

So honestly, if Anne and Gilbert hadn't been so perfectly written in AWAE, I may very well have shipped Anne and Diana more, similar to how I did with the books and a few of the other adaptations. But alas, the straights won this round.

Personally, I felt this version was building up Diana and Ruby, if anything. The way Ruby's crush on Gilbert was kind of a running joke throughout the series, only for her to drop him completely at a moments notice after developing a sudden crush on Moody? Idk, very comp-het of her. And Diana is like Mike Wheeler only 10x worse. Her entire arc was focused on her need to be normal: her disgust when finding out her aunt was a lesbian in s2 (ITS NOT NATURAL), only to start a fling with Jerry in s3, whom she kissed in private, but basically hurt in the end, when he realized she didn't like him beyond the kissing part. She also had a lot of resentment for the future her parents planned for her, which was finishing school and then marriage.

But honestly, the framing for them alone was just, interesting:

Still, even though I would argue Diana and Ruby were queer-coded, I don't think it was guaranteed to pan out as endgame in the end. Especially seeing as Ruby died in the books. So maybe the show getting cancelled was for the best...

Now, Cole on the other hand, was very much gay in canon.

Within the span of one season (s2), they introduced Cole, somehow managed to make it very clear he was gay, without saying it outright, and in a way that felt natural despite the time period that the show was set in (AWAE also had a lot of emphasis on the words weird/different = gay/freak). Although he went through hardships, Cole did get a happy resolution to his storyline at the end of the season, and I think that's what makes AWAE (and hopefully ST) so special.

Not only did we get a glimpse into Cole's perspective as a gay kid growing up in the late 1800's, we also got a more unfortunate perspective, their teacher, Mr. Phillips. Mr. Phillips experienced dangerously toxic levels of internalized homophobia, going as far as to take it out on Cole, essentially punishing a younger version of himself through projection. Whenever he caught Cole doing something perceived as feminine or out of the norm for men in those times, he would make a spectacle out of it and humiliate him.

He had also just jumped into a relationship with Prissy, the eldest girl in the class (ewwww). Although it seemed like he was interested in her romantically when things were still fairly casual, it's in moments of privacy you can see there is an internal struggle going on there. And as he and Prissy get more serious, talking about marriage, these confrontations with Cole are happening simultaneously with Mr. Phillips getting more and more dejected from reality and his impending heteronormative fate.

Although it wasn't clear to Prissy why he didn't love her the way she deserved to be loved, the audience knew it was because he was gay. Fortunately for her, instead of marrying him and being miserable for the rest of her life, Prissy ran out of the wedding, which lead to arguably some of the most beautiful shots in the entire show.

I can't end this mini gay AWAE analysis though without mentioning the beauty that is Gertie and Joe. It was revealed at the end of s1 that Diana's aunt, Josephine Barry, was lesbian, still mourning her love Gertrude, who had just died a year or so prior. But honestly, I'm going to stop there. That's all I'm gonna say because if I talk about them I'll get too emotional (THEY WERE ROOMMATES!).

Now, Anne and Gilbert. Like I said, if they weren't written and framed to very clearly be endgame all along, maybe I wouldn't have been so on board. But they were, and so here we are. (s/out to antis who are convinced all bylers only ship Mike and Will bc they're 2 boys. Newsflash, people ship byler bc of how they were written/framed to be endgame, just like Anne and Gilbert here. If it weren't for these sorbet bitches, I wouldn't have started shipping Byler in the first place. So, you can blame the straights for this one!.)

For those that haven't read the original books, Anne and Gilbert get together midway through the overall series, with the last couple novels even being from the perspective of their children (they had 7 total).

Now when I say endgame framing, I mean endgame framing.

Although back then, couples did get married fairly young, AWAE was based on the events of Anne's life at a really young age, spanning from 13-16, so marriage was just not in the cards for this adaptation.

Because of this, they used cinematography, specifically the framing of Anne and Gilbert, to hint that they would end up together, ie. them standing before a threshold in the finale of every season:

There's even a shot of them standing in front of the tunnel of love, where you can see a couple that resembles a future version of them walking in the background, foreshadowing the inevitable.

There's a lot of shots like this, and while neither of them are reserved to being exclusively on one side of the frame at all times (besides the threshold shots), it's clear the framing of them in general was intended to capture a chemistry building up over the years, which would eventually lead to a payoff, making all these little moments even more special once you can finally look at the story as a whole (remind you of anyone?).

For those who haven't seen AWAE or just want a refresher for the sake of this analysis, here goes:

During the first season, Anne and Gilbert more so embody the academic rivals to lovers trope. It isn't until the end of that season, after budding heads with Gilbert, that Anne realizes she has feelings for him. Unfortunately, it was too late, as he had apparently left town and probably wouldn't return ever again. Or so she thought.

She runs into him before he leaves, gets all overwhelmed, happy to see him (to his surprise) and they end up chatting over tea. They apologize to each other, argue over who should be apologizing, listen to each other's feelings and concerns, have their classic 'anyway' 'anyway' moment, and end it with a staring contest/their breaths catching, aka endgame coded behavior (remind you of anyone...)

In the first half of the second season, they stay in contact via letters. What I find funny is the way Bash teases Gilbert about the letters to Anne being romantic, all while Gilbert insists that she is just a friend. And at the same time Anne is rambling (unprompted) to Marilla that the letters between her and Gilbert are not romantic WHATSOEVER!

Then, in the second half of s2 they reunite and Gilbert basically implies that he came back to Avonlea bc of her. They start traditions together (Christmas episode my beloved), and even stand alongside each other fighting for what's right (getting Ms. Stacy her job back after being unjustly fired) and it's all just very wholesome (with a mix of academic rivals conflict). The season ends with Bash and Mary's wedding, the last shot being Anne and Gilbert standing in the threshold of the church entrance, talking about the future, with Gilbert repeating back something he overheard Anne say in a rant just a few episodes prior:

Gilbert: Tragical romance and all?

Anne: Remains to be seen.

Essentially, they foreshadow their own fate (REMIND YOU OF ANYONE?)

What follows is the third and final season, which means endgame was fast-tracked and so what we got was peak mutual pining/misunderstanding/jealousy tropes, ending with the classic letters tragically unreceived until the very last second trope.

Initially, at the start of s3, Anne pushes Gilbert towards Ruby, by confronting him about the take notice board in a conversation that leaves both of them slightly hurt and confused. Because according to Ruby, while Anne talked to him about her, his eyes were full of romance. Only Gilbert wasn't smiling because of Ruby, he was smiling because he thought Anne was talking about herself and their future, about the two of them taking notice of each other. The moment Anne says Ruby's name, Gilbert's face falls, no longer interested (*cough* van scene *cough*)

In the following episode, Anne pushes Gilbert away even more, insisting she doesn't need him, but it was only because she was frustrated that she needed a man accompanying her in order to travel. But Gilbert took this as her not needing him at all, and was pretty much just defeated at this point. He'd hoped they could use this opportunity traveling together privately to get closer, but now he's starting to think maybe Anne truly doesn't feel the same. And so he decides to give her the cold shoulder, and proceeds to attempt his 'moving on from my true love' era. He then meets Winifred Rose only a couple scenes later, who he begins courting soon after. They even go out to tea a couple of times...

Mary's sickness and passing is something both Anne and Gilbert struggle with, as they have come to associate each others families as their own. So despite the recent tension between them, they quickly go back into a flow of mutual understanding.

When Gilbert gets upset upon realizing, that if he continues with his passion of becoming a doctor, he'll have to deal with people dying and not being able to save everyone, Anne quickly comforts/encourages him for being the kind of doctor people would want to bring their loved ones to, because he cares so much (Caring deeply will always be the right thing). You can see this means a lot to Gilbert. Then when rehearsing the dance for the carnival, Gilbert messes up the formation of the dance to get closer to Anne, where they enter their own little world. Time slows; it's electric. We then see both of them flustered over what they're feeling afterwards.

The rest of the season is filled with misunderstandings, but also moments that parallel to previous seasons, where they work together to stand up for what's right (Who knew, we'd make such a good, T-E-A-M) and all of these feelings basically build up, making both of them wonder if maybe the other could actually feel the same way.

So, when Gilbert is offered the perfect future, the Sorbonne in Paris (his dream school) completely paid in full by Winifred's father if he agrees to propose to her, his first instinct is to track down Anne to ask her what she thinks. When he finds her, she's drunk at the ruins with all their classmates, celebrating finishing the queens entrance exam. But she's confused and quite frankly speechless over the fact that Gilbert felt the need to get her input at all. The choice seemed obvious to her. And that's when we have this long awaited moment happen, where it's basically confirmed Gilbert does indeed return Anne's feelings, that she's literally the one thing holding him back. Unfortunately, Gilbert interprets Anne's hesitation and confusion as rejection. And Anne also sort of interprets this as making him choose between her and his dreams which, she obviously doesn't want to get in the way of.

But it doesn't matter. Because Gilbert still can't go through with marrying Winifred. He spends the whole day before confronting her, visiting places all over the Island, specifically places that remind him of home (Anne). He even goes to the destroyed Avonlea Story Club (*cough* Castle Byers *cough*) and takes one of the sea shells there from Anne's abandoned collection and brings it with him. We then see him looking conflicted between the ring he's supposed to propose to Winifred with, and the sea shell that symbolizes his love for Anne.

It isn't until the opening scene of the series finale that we see Gilbert calling off his impending engagement to Winifred. (I care about you very much / But not as much as for a certain someone?)

Just before this, in the second to last episode, Anne wrote a letter to Gilbert revealing her true feelings, because their talk at the ruins made her start to believe he could feel the same. But the letter (tragically) never gets to Gilbert.

In a last ditch effort before leaving forever potentially (again), Gilbert also leaves Anne a letter revealing his true feelings, which Anne also never receives (even more tragically if you can believe that).

And all this miscommunication comes to a head at the very end, when Winifred reveals the truth to Anne, and Diana reveals the truth to Gilbert. What follows is them both running to find each other, where they kiss, only to once again go their separate ways, pursuing their dreams, with Anne going to school in Charlottetown to eventually be a teacher/writer, and Gilbert to Toronto to study medicine. They make plans to write each other. (I have follow up questions! / So do I!).

Even though the show ended there, because of the books and all the hints the show left along the way, we know that they end up together.

So, as you can see, the pen lived up to its name as the pen of possibility. I also think the comment Anne made early on, about how Gilbert doesn't have a way with words, was meant to ironically hint at the fact that he very much does have a way with words, and that Anne, and we the audience, would find out soon enough.

But like I said, it's entirely unlikely that the ST writers were hinting at the pen of possibility, like SOO unlikely it's unreal. That wasn't even my main point making this. There just honestly hasn't been much to go off with this whole penholdergate thing, and the tag is so dead anyways, so i figured, why not? And I really just needed an excuse to bring up how similar the style of these shows are when it comes to narrative choices, especially the set up for shirbert and byler, because like I said, full serious, I never would have put so much consideration into Byler if it wasn't for how endgame coded they were, just like Shirbert.

Specifically the way Mike looks at Will, it just feels very, very similar to the way Gilbert looks at Anne.

Nevertheless, I still think this adds an interesting layer of possibility to the whole lettergate/pocketgate theory for ST5. After all, we know Will is good at painting, and it's his love language, which is why he gifted Mike a painting in the first place. In contrast, we're given these implications that writing is Mike's love language. He also attributes it to romantic feelings, which is why he feels he has an obligation to reserve letter writing to El, his girlfriend. But because it is his love language, there's an element of truthfulness that he can't fully submit to. He couldn't 'in good conscious' go through with it fully, by ending his letters to El with, "love Mike", as it would have contradicted the whole truth of this being Mike's love language.

I feel like the only way for them to properly resolve this whole storyline, is to let us see a letter from Mike. Perhaps a letter ending with, 'love--?. Perhaps a letter addressed to Will?. (Just as long as he doesn't rip it up before he even reads it or step on it and lose it outside, crumpled in the dirt, never to be found. Iykyk. Those were tragic times in Anne nation.)

As you can probably tell by now, there's a shit ton of things the ST writers could pull from AWAE for inspiration, but we won't know if they have done so officially unless it ends up being listed on the updated whiteboard for ST5. If it isn't, then we can rule it out and move on. But if it is (genuinely possible), then I wouldn't be surprised to see some of these elements above paralleled, either with literal parallels or just narratively in a broad sense when it comes to certain characters dynamics and their inevitable fate...

#stranger things #anne with an e #stranger things 5 #byler #i just wanna hear mike reading off his own words...#the power that has #like why build up him not being able to write love mike... if were not going to eventually be able to see him do it in the end?#like he was saving it for someone special obviously #so where is the payoff #to be continued in st5 i guess #I could see the whole lettergate/pocketgate thing playing out early s5 tbh though #i think it's something thats too closely tied to s4 for them to wait until the very end of s5 to circle back to #but we'll have to wait and see i guess #gertie and jo #now im sad #awae had me crying so much over platonic love... not just romantic love too. like thats what made it soooo good #and so #i do have hope that st will be able to accomplish a lot even beyond the endgame ships #i'm also very hopeful that el's arc will be satisfying bc of this as well #she'll have her prissy moment and we'll all be cheering #i can't wait #byler theory #penholdergate #gridgate #lettergate #pocketgate #st5 headcanon #st5 movie/film inspo #anne with an e parallels

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