#silver really is trying to impress flint here

[frau-kali]

"If you're trying to impress me, it isn't working."

[etoilesombre]

for your wip tag game, love to hear more about "swimming"!

this was something i started for an event a couple years ago but ended up doing a different prompt, and never picked this back up. but the prompt was basically 'swimming lessons for Silver to learn to swim again after he loses his leg, with either Flint, Madi or both.' i went ot3

ok this is a stupid long excerpt, but the fic will probably never get posted so might as well put it here. wow, i was really just kind of vibing with this concept.

[context: basically they are all drinking and hanging out in maroon village one night during s3-4 break, and silver makes a self-deprecating comment about not being able to swim and flint is like 'that's silly of course you can, we'll try it sometime' and tipsy imperious queen madi goes 'why not now?' and takes them night swimming] [madi and flint are already doing better with each other, don't ask questions this is happy verse]

“This is a good place,” Madi says. “Shallow here, and by the rocks, but it’s deep enough to swim properly nearer the cliffs.” 

Flint has come this far, but now he feels flustered, awkward as a school boy. He’s not going to go *swimming* with them, it's a stupid idea. Why did he come? 

Although the water does look appealing. In truth he loves to swim: the solitary rhythm of it, the power of the sea, exhausting himself until returning to the ship is a challenge that demands everything of him and leaves no room for thought. 

But this is different. 

Silver looks between them expectantly. Flint thinks he doesn’t feel quite comfortable with this, either, but clearly he would follow Madi to the ends of the earth, so he awaits her signal. 

She kisses Silver on the cheek, takes a drink, and hands him the wineskin. Then she undoes her belt and pulls her shirt out of the loose, flowing trousers she wears, and Flint doesn’t know what he thought was going to happen---he’d been trying desperately not to think of this part---but he didn’t truly expect that she would calmly undress in front of them both. 

“Now, wait a minute…” 

“Don’t worry, Captain, your precious British modesty is not in danger.” She’s teasing, but he wonders if she knows him enough yet to realize the depth of the challenge there, and suspects she might. “When it is your turn to undress, I shall avert my eyes until you are in the water.” 

Silver, goddamn him, is *giggling.* Certainly he doesn’t seem protective of Madi, which stings a bit. Flint isn’t sure he wants to be quite *that* unthreatening, though he does value the implicit trust. 

“This… is not what I was expecting from the evening,” Silver breathes, appreciative, as Madi’s garments fall away one by one, then seems to remember that he probably shouldn’t be watching so blatantly. He helps himself to a healthy swallow of the wine and hands it to Flint, who takes an even longer pull because fuck, he needs it. 

“Nor I. She’s not an easy woman to refuse, is she?” 

“I can hear you, you know,” Madi says cheerfully, stepping out of the rest of her clothing. She is turned mostly toward the water, revealing the graceful curve of her back and hip, and she casts a look back over her shoulder directly at Flint. “What I am about to do, do not attempt it. I know where it is safe. I will meet you.” 

Flint watches in disbelief as she saunters off to the cliff face and begins to climb lithely up. He has an urge to shout at her to stop; doesn’t she know that drinking and climbing waterfalls is a good way to get killed? He’s lost men to this kind of stupidity and she doesn’t need to show off. 

Hell, when had he become a clucking mother hen? He forces a deep breath and watches the bunch and pull of her muscles, much stronger than he’d realized, appreciates the economy with which she moves.  

“Goddamn,” breathes Silver next to him, face full of awe, and of course it isn’t Flint she’s trying to impress. She stands poised at the top of the cliff for a long moment, then, without warning, she dives. They both gasp. It’s not really that high, perhaps twenty feet, but for an instant she is perfectly suspended in the air and she looks like a bird in flight, arms outstretched, silhouetted against the sky. Then she turns her body gracefully in the air, brings her hands together above her and slips head first into the water with barely a splash. 

There is a moment of absolute stillness. Then she breaks the surface, laughing. “Come on then!” she calls. Silver moves first, removing clothing without further hesitation, and Flint sees no choice but to do the same. They don’t look at each other. At least, he very studiously does not look at Silver, and it's only from a corner of his eye that he sees Silver strip completely, as Madi did. He’d thought they could at least keep the dignity of their undergarments, but Silver is giddy and unthinking, naturally eager to be naked with his lover, and Flint refuses to be the prude in this situation, so he lays his clothes aside. 

In fact, he is so determined not to look at Silver, not even to *think* of looking at the newly bared expanses of his skin, that it takes him some time to notice that Silver has sunk to the soft bank, all happiness drained from his face. He has removed the peg from his left leg and is staring into the middle distance, coming to terms with his own set of inconvenient realities. 

It makes Flint’s heart ache, and without further thought he goes to where Silver sits and offers him a hand, because Silver will sit there all night rather than ask. Flint’s limbs are still loose and heavy with the wine, his thoughts syrupy slow, or else he probably would have hesitated a great deal more before putting his exposed prick at the same level as Silver’s face. As it is, he doesn’t see the tableau they create until it's too late, and then he can’t *stop* seeing it. He is not, thank God, fully hard, but he’s not exactly soft either; this evening has been full of suggestiveness to which he is not immune, and Silver is sitting so close before him, it would be so easy for Flint to bury a hand in his curls and guide his mouth forward… *fuck*. 

“Come on, up,” he says gruffly, like he would if they were training and he’s once again knocked Silver on his ass. That snaps Silver out of his reverie; he clasps Flint’s forearm and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, thankfully without looking at him too closely first. He wavers a bit, then throws an arm over Flint’s shoulders and allows himself to be helped out into the placid water. 

It truly is a perfect spot, the water barely cool against Flint’s skin, the gradually sloping bottom made of soft white sand, and he tries to focus on the way it yields beneath their steps, on the shine of the moon, the distant rolling of waves from the ocean, on anything other than the weight of Silver’s arm around him, the nearness of him. The way they’re carefully not looking at each other. They’ve lived together for months now, seen each other undressed from time to time, and it hasn’t been a problem. Perhaps Flint has glanced, but he has discipline. And it has been incidental, momentary, nothing like the intimacy of supporting Silver’s weight as they make their way deeper, feeling the tickle of long black hair on his own shoulder, smelling Silver’s scent, the salt of sweat and something sharp and wild beneath it, which he would be able to tell apart from a hundred other men. His pulse quickens. 

This is hell. 

He is almost able to resist, but when they are thigh deep in the water he forgets himself and steals a glance. Silver’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, also half full. Flint has known Silver is a well-made man, but to see something of the extent of it, of what it would be like to— He swallows hard and quickly looks away. Silver’s attention is, unsurprisingly, focused elsewhere. Flint follows his gaze.

Madi, true to her word, is ignoring them entirely, cavorting under the waterfall like a proper nymph. She stands on a little rock ledge behind the fall, letting it obscure her like a veil, then dives through it into the deep pool before climbing back up. Sometimes she swims to the bottom, as if fetching treasures. 

It’s jarring to see her like this. It's true that the Maroons don’t seem to particularly value concealment of the body; it’s perfectly common to see women with their breasts exposed, and in some of the ritual dances, men, heavily painted, appear with their genitals uncovered. Which Flint has paid no mind. It only means that this isn’t necessarily significant; people have their different customs and there’s nothing untoward here, it is only being so shaped by the conditions of his own repressive nation which makes it seem so to him. 

Except Madi is not unfamiliar with their customs. She knows exactly the significance of what she is doing. Had they been alone, it would have been either a seduction or a strange play for power. But her lover is here, and Flint can’t figure out what she’s trying to accomplish. 

He’s not ready to let himself consider the obvious. He wants it to be true too badly, and doesn’t trust his muddled mind to read the situation correctly. 

Maybe she’s merely young and drunk, and wanted to go swimming. 

The water is to their waists now, a bit above. He extricates himself from under Silver’s arm, though he still holds on to it, steadying him. Silver looks at him for the first time in what feels like forever, and his wide eyes are so full of tender, fledgling hope. There is no color in the darkness, but he knows the exact shade of blue they’d be, paints it over them in his mind. 

“Will it really work?” Silver asks, and he’s never sounded so vulnerable. 

“Course it will. It's mostly saltwater, you couldn’t sink if you tried.” 

Unbidden, Flint remembers sinking. He’s never told Silver, but he was still conscious when he fell. Conscious enough to know that, shot and beaten as he was, to stand a chance of reaching the surface he would need to struggle out of his heavy boots and coat at least, and then remembers seeing an empty bay where the *Urca* should have been, and realizing he had killed Gates for nothing. Conscious enough to let himself sink instead of fighting. He remembers feeling hands on him, pulling him up before everything went dark. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Trust me.” He squeezes Silver’s arm, then lets go. 

Silver wavers, manages an awkward hop or two, and then plunges forward. Instinctively he steadies himself with his arms so that although it’s shallow he is half treading water; he founders only for a moment, and then he discovers the trick of propelling himself forward, slicing through the water with his arms and pushing his foot off of the bottom. 

In moments he has made his way to deeper water, and when he regains his footing it rises partway up his smooth chest, lapping at him just under where dark nipples are pebbled. He can stand easily now, the water balancing and supporting him. He tests his newfound abilities, moving a few easy, floating steps, and a broad smile spreads across his face. It's like watching the breaking of dawn, or the sun emerging after a long and terrible storm. 

“Captain! I--- I can…” Silver dives under the water and surfaces laughing and full of wonder, rediscovering his former grace.  He’s only a few paces from Flint, close enough to see that he’s almost vibrating with excitement. “It’s so *easy.*”

There’s a breathless moment between them, a moment when recklessly he imagines Silver will embrace him, but neither of them moves.

“I know,” Flint says softly. “I should have thought of it.” He’s glad for the darkness, hopes it will conceal the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He aches with all of the things he should have done for Silver, should have considered, should have given him in return for his terrible sacrifice. His eyes cut to Madi, who in the short weeks of their acquaintance has shown Silver more of love and joy than Flint has known in years. She’s lounging on a rock shelf a few feet above the deep pool, watching with an almost proprietary air of approval. 

Silver follows his gaze and brightens even further. 

Madi dives back in and swims to them without breaking the surface, popping up just in front of Silver. 

“Madi!” he cries and picks her up, delighted, and tries to spin with her, but her added weight changes his balance in the water and they topple sideways, splashing under the surface, only to emerge laughing and sputtering. Madi shrieks in feigned reproach and Silver catches her in a firm embrace. It's like watching the play of puppies. 

Until it isn’t. Until she takes hold of Silver’s face and stretches up to kiss him, and his hands slide down her back, out of sight under the water. They shimmer in the moonlight, pale against dark, her delicate form pulled flush to his broad, muscled one, a perfect image of lovers from the dawn of time 

The kiss deepens, and Flint turns away. He shouldn’t be here, is intruding and doesn’t want to be able to picture what he can’t have. Silver seems to realize it at the same time, breaking away from Madi and speaking to her softly, casting a sidelong look in Flint’s direction. Flint tries to act as though he finds the view of the jungle enthralling.

“I don’t think your Captain objects,” Madi says, her voice pitched to carry. Her eyes find Flint’s and hold them, as if they share a secret. Her words are heavy with implication. “You don’t object, do you Captain?” 

Fuck. She knows. 

The weight of the realization descends on him, the danger, and he can’t force enough air into his lungs; he’s been trapped into this and will be exposed for exactly what he is because *she knows.* “I--- I don’t know what---” He stammers foolishly. 

Silver is just looking back and forth between the two of them, bemused, his hand still resting on the curve of Madi’s spine. 

“Answer me,” she says in the affected, imperious tone she has been using to play with him all evening. His frantic mind catches on that, puts information in order. She knows, and what has she done? Skillfully engineered this absurd situation. He meets her eyes again. They’re warm and reassuring, despite her tone, waiting for him to see it. 

This isn’t a threat. It's a fucking invitation. 

[homoeroticbetrayal]

Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2

Round 2 Directory

Context:

Akechi/Joker

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

Ok so Akira(you the player) are the leader of a group of thieves (who are doing good for society) but there are more sinister things happening that also get attributed to your group.

Enter Akechi the famous charismatic detective who’s declared that he will catch you(you can probably already guess where this is going) When you first meet him it is already clear that something is very wrong under that obviously fake smile. Under your civilian identity you befriend him and slowly(or rather fast) he opens up to you showing more of his true self and what pains his heart. Even disclosing sensitive information that could bring him down. Of course this is all just lies he made up to get close to you right? Nope.

You see the betrayal coming from miles ahead. Not only does he betray you, he’s been the real culprit all along.

Despite knowing this loooong ahead you still take him on little gay dates to the aquarium, public bathhouse, pretending to shoot eachother, a café or try to impress him with your amazing darts skills. You may even willingly make wrong choices just for his approval (I did gdi Akechi I trusted you.) And when you come home he's already waiting for you.

After you survive him gleefully shooting you through the head(it makes sense in context) you meet again he admits that he wishes you’d have met earlier, confirming that your bond was genuine, that you could’ve been friends/partners(? It’s complicated) and he really meant it when he said you’re the only one he feels at ease with. But not without having a truly unhinged meltdown about it first, vehemently rejecting your offer to still be friends and turn over a new leaf. (so after he's attempted to kill you at least 2 times and is gearing up for making it 3)

Akechi betraying you is as much a betrayal of himself as it is one of you.

Bonus points:

other characters comment on you being the only one close to him

during one rank he confesses to you…. His hate?

as previously mentioned, your relationship ranks up after he shoots you in the head(you survive, it make sense in context)

he himself compares his betrayal of you to romance(yes after shooting you through the head). On live tv. In the same moment he reminds himself how he’s felt unwanted his entire life, like a reminder he killed the only person who ever made him wanted.

At the end you have the choice to stay in a perfect world where he is alive and never underwent any of the pain in his life turning him into a wholly different person, or let him die(again) as his true self. If you pick the former you can return the betrayal.

*vague description it’s complicated.

Read other summary here.

John Silver/James Flint (Black Sails)

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

what if we were pirates and I was grieving over my lost love and pulled you into the orbit of my narrative and turned you into the same kind of monster as I am but instead of dedicating all your energy to destruction you found people to love and you sacrificed our shared dream of revolution for a chance at a quiet life and you had to kill me to do it but instead you said I will wait here for a day a month a year until we can walk out of this together. and also we were both boys.

The moment that best exemplifies WHY I believe silverflint should win this tournament isn't the moment of the betrayal itself, but something that happens an entire season before. It's the season 3 finale, and Flint and Silver are preparing for a battle. Silver says to Flint, "Your demons are a part of our reality. Such is the nature of the influence you wield. Some of those demons I've come to know, but the one in whose name this war is to be fought is still a stranger to me." He asks Flint to share the deepest and most painful parts of his backstory - and Flint does. He opens up to Silver about his (queer) lover, who was killed because of their relationship. He's never told anyone about this before, and everyone who knew is is dead. But he tells Silver.

Silver takes this in and comes to a realization. He tells Flint that he sees himself as the latest in a line of people who have become very close to Flint and died because of it. He places himself in the same category as both of Flint's dead lovers. But he says that, when it comes down to it, he's afraid he's going to destroy Flint rather than let himself be destroyed. Flint tells Silver that if he does try to kill him, he'll have his work cut out for him. The whole conversation takes place in flashbacks, intercut with the battle that takes place the next day. The end of the conversation is played in voiceover over the final shots of the season: after winning the battle, Flint stands on the bank of a river, staring across at Silver and Silver's lover; the two of them stand on the opposite bank staring back.

It is POETIC CINEMA on a level I don't even have words for. It's the moment of their greatest triumph together, the moment Flint finally opens up to someone a decade after what happened to him, the moment their partnership goes from utilitarian to inseparable. But the seeds of their dissolution are already present. Silver says as much, in the same breath as he declares himself to be the latest in the lineage of Flint's lovers. It's a truly unbelievable sequence.

[crisisoninfintefandoms]

#I mean yeah exactly#but that’s...#that’s also John’s entire plan#he IS planning to tell her a story so she forgives him#he DID lie and pretend to win Flint’s affections#Flint’s 100% correct in everything he says in this speech#including that John will never recover from it#that’s why John’s so devastated#Flint’s right#but he’s not planning on backing down#and Flint’s not letting him get away with it#which means they’re doing this the hard way#and John never wanted that#he’s seeing that he’s lost James entirely#and he’s probably going to lose Madi too#and he does#in all the important ways#and he knows now why Flint’s so broken#these are the choices of being in charge#these are the choices you’re left with in war#and way too late to do anything about it#they’ve all lost#and it’s his fault#because he can’t bear the thought of them dying

That’s all this has ever been, isn’t it? A partnership only insofar as it enables you to do whatever it is that matters to you in any given moment. And right now it matters far less to you whether she lives or dies than it happens your way, on your terms. 

[lootsofathousandsworld]

Life of  a Pirate Chpt 5

Here’s a new chapter for you all. *Falls on ground.* 

Hope you like it and sorry if grammer is wonky. 

Preview: https://at.tumblr.com/lootsofathousandsworld/life-of-a-pirate-chapt-4/7yyz0xb47e3i

I manage to get some dishes off the sink without gagging. It was because some of these plates still had some unknown go, and I dared not think about what it was. Not wanting to get my stomach turned.

I put the bucket in the sink and reached my hand for the faucet. But realizing seconds later my hand couldn't find one. I blinked in confusion and saw this sink didn't have any faucets for me to turn on the water.

"What?" I leaned over the sink to look for anything to start the water, but there was nothing to turn on. Then I caught a glimpse of rope close to the sink. I hummed and looked at it for a second. Believing this will give me some, I reached over and was about to pull it.

"NO! DON'T PULL THAT!" I yelped in startle and B.E.N came zooming in out of nowhere and stops right in front of me. While I was getting my heart to beat normally, the robot touched the rope and points up where it leads to.

"This is the food bell." He explained. "It's where one of us rings the bell when food is ready." I took a glance up and saw one silver bell attached to it.

"Oh," That's all I can say, and B.E.N. gives me a sheepish smile.

"Sorry to scare you. I didn't want you to deal with men coming crashing in. They're pretty aggressive whenever a meal is ready."

"It's alright," I replied but asked." But if that's the food call, where I can get water?"

"Oh, it's right over there." He casually points toward a few barrels in the corner. Noticing the water was there the whole time, I can't help to let out a huff and pull my bucket out from the sink.

"Getting all that dirty dishes out was such a waste," I grumbled while setting down the bucket and grab many dirty dishes as I could to put them back in.

"Hey let me help," I saw B.E.N get on his knees, grab some dishes, and begin talking, "I'm really sorry about the mess here. I was supposed to get them clean. But Captain Flint wants me to be at his side all the time."

"And why he wants you at his side?" I asked. I sort of knew the reason why due to reading his character description, as he was paranoid about one of his men deciding to take B.E.N away. To either kill him or sell him on the black market for tons of money.

But I want to see his point of view on this. Since he had been living on his ship for who knows how long. Maybe it was something else that wasn't brought up in Flint's description. I saw him only shrug and answered.

"I don't know. Maybe he's protecting me from his men? He tells me how when he's not around the crew will do something to me. And he's not there to save me,"

Definitely paranoid, I suggest, almost rolling my eyes. As we both get the rest dirty dishes back in the sink. I took the empty bucket and make my way toward the barrels.

"Try on the left," B.E.N. called. "Its has half full in it."

" Um, thanks," I said. I turned on the faucet that was on the barrel and fill the bucket with water.

"And the soap is right here!" I gasped when he proudly handed me a bar of soap on my palm. "Just don't use it all."

"I know," I replied. The old crabass turtle informed me."

"Oh good!" B.E.N smiled.

"Still though, he never told me where the water is,"

"Oh?" B.E.N added.

"Yep," I snorted and mimicked while adding a little soap to my bucket. "Just get down there and fill it up blah blah blah,"

The robot almost snickers at my Bone's impression and puts his arm around me. "Aw once you get the hang of living here, things won't be that bad,"

"Won't be that bad?" I glance at him oddly. He uses his other hand to rub his back neck after he saw my puzzled look.

"Well, won't be that bad is not the right term for living here huh?"

"Even when you are living with the scariest pirate for life," I said. But after my replying, I was surprised he just shrugged it off.

"Sure he can be. But I promise once you get to know him, he's not a monster as you may think." Not sure if his words are just him being Stockholm syndrome since he has been living with him for so long.

Still, I have a hard time believing it. Reading about how Flint abused him despite acting like a father figure to him. I'm just secretly surprised he kept B.E.N alive until upon his death he took his memory away. He could've just murdered him after B.E.N had done helping him set up his booby trap.

I just shook my head and pick my water bucket up. "Sure I'll keep that in mind." I got up as he did the same. " But when the bargain is done, I'm going home,"

"Home?" He blinks but then soon understands it was part of the parlay, and his face turns disappointed.

"Oh."

With that face he made, I felt guilty for leaving him. But if I take him now, the treasure planet timeline will mess everything up with him not meeting Jim and starting a good new life from there.

But then he asks this question that made me lose my breath.

"Where are you from?"

I bite my lips on what to fib and then answer with one planet I can think of. "Its...Montressor. It's where I came from,"

"Oh, Montressor!" B.E.N's facial beamed, clasping his hands together. "I hear so much about it! Wonderful planet despite its only for mining. And of course, I knew you might be from there. Mostly terrians are born from there am I right?"

He winked at me and I quickly made my more fibbing answer.

"Yes of course! You got that one right," I winked back at him, smiling despite feeling more guilty. Then B.E.N. gets all excited and speaks fast.

"Oh, I have so many questions about your planet! I want to know everything like does your planet has gems, gold, or silver when you mined. And I'm curious as your queen ever come to visit the planet? I'm sure she had and.."

I grit my teeth in silence when he begins rambling about his curious questions, and I have zero knowledge about that planet. I almost panicked about how am I going to answer all of this after I made a lie. I don't know anything about Montressor besides that it has a spaceport and Benbow inn.

I felt relief when B.E.N starts talking about food his eyes lit up. "Holy Nebula supper! Captain Flint is going to kill me!" Before he dashes, he turns to me.

"We'll talk later! See you soon new friend!"

New friend? His words stabbed me with much more guilt to see he fully trusted me. I forced myself to smile and made a little wave.

"Yeah! I'll see you soon. Thanks for your help," He gives me a thumbs up and hurries to the stove to prepare Flint's cooking. With that, I made my way to the deck to start mopping as my heart was still sinking on B.E.N seeing me as a new friend.

I muttered to myself. "B.E.N, I hope you can forgive me when you find out the truth."

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

After a few hours of mopping the deck, I hear the food bell ringing. I let out a huge sigh of relief due I was already tired with sweats running down my forehead. Not to mention my arms and back were sore.

I saw all men charging toward the gallery like hungry hippos and I followed behind so I won't get stampeded on. Soon I was in line to get my food.

About a few minutes later, it was my turn to grab mine. A large alien with a weird squidlike shape face handed me a bowl with soup in it. I winched when I saw it was bubbly and had some strange meat in them.

He notices my facial he grunts. "What?"

"What kind of meat is in this?" I asked. The tentacle alien face looks down at my soup.

"I don't really know,"

"You don't know?" I gulped.

He snorted. "It could be from orcus galacticus or something. Now move along ye holding the line!" One of the men behind me give me a nudge and I grunted, moving aside for him to pass.

I let out a sharp sigh and walked to the other side to find a table to sit at. I spotted one empty in a corner which was perfect since the table was a bit away from the crew. I sat down with my soup and glanced down at it.

Using the spoon, I scooped a few chunks of meat and brought it close to my face. The smell itself wasn't too bad, but the taste however would be different.

I lick my lips nervously. "Well, like Simba says, hakuna matata," I slup my soup and chew it. After a few seconds, I swallow it and hums.

"Hey, it's not bad. Short of tastes like steak."

While I was eating my soup, I overheard a few pirates speaking and in corner of my eye, some were looking at me. I looked down to avoid their contact and try to enjoy my soup. But then I overheard someone muttering. I looked over my shoulder and saw a bird-like alien, having blue-green peacock feather hair.

Unlike the other pirates, he looks clean with small spectacle glasses on his beak. Like he'd just come from a wealthy home, having a bit snob look on his face. He was writing something down on his notes beside his bowl while eating. I blinked and couldn't help to wonder what he was writing. All of a sudden he stopped his writing.

I swallowed when he perks up as if he sense he was being watched. He turns over to me and I quickly glance away. I breathed and scooped some more meat to finish eating.

"You know it's rude to stare at people,"

I almost choked my food in startle when I heard a person speaking. I coughed and find the person who spoke. It was the same bird alien. He tsks while I use my sleeves to wipe my saliva mix soup off my chin.

"Careful about how much you put food in your mouth unless you want your trachea to open in the wrong lane.

"Well if you haven't... frighten me, it won't go down the wrong tube," I manage to speak. The bird alien watches me still coughing and walks over to grab a cup of water which was beside his bowl.

'Here drink this, it'll soothe your throat." I grab his cup and drink a little. I sighed a second later, putting the cup down after my cough went away.

"Thanks,"

"So you are new to the crew yes?" He sat down in front of me and put his hands together.

I shrugged and kept on eating my soup. "Not really. Once the merchant ship, the Captain made a promise to release me."

"Release you?" He made a laugh. "Don't get your hopes up,"

"What do you mean?" I frowned at him after swallowing my food. He looks at me seriously and leans toward me.

"You are on a ship where many of us double-crossed one another." He spoke lowly. I suggest you be careful about who you are dealing with."

I felt my stomach turn when he says those words. There is no way their Captain will do that. We shook on it.

"But, the Captain and I made a paraly. That is one of the codes," I said.

"And some codes can be broken miss," He replied. "And this Captain you dealt with can be the one you will regret." I was silent as he gets up from his seat. Before he leaves for his table he turns to me.

"By the way, names Nicolas D. Allyrdace in case you wish to talk to me again." As he left, I looked down at my soup. Now losing my appetite for worrying about that bargain.

I huffed and scooted the bowl away. I'm not letting his words get to me. I was determined to be free and find a way to fix my wish no matter what.

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

Third's person POV

Meanwhile, inside the cabin, B.E.N was on the other side of the room. Sitting on his chair, he was looking through his compass disc. He gulped at how his captain is in a bad mood right now. Due to there being no merchant ships to raid for the evening.

Flint was studying his sphere map while calculating the distance of his other map on his desk that contain the whole Etherium universe. Trying to make him in a better mood, he spoke out.

"Don't worry Captain! I'm sure tomorrow will be the best day to plunder,"

Flint grumbled and snatches his rum bottle beside him. "It better be," The robot gulped at his tone and watched him drink his bottle down.

"Y-you shouldn't drink that much. Remember what Nic said?"

"I know!" Flint barked. "I'm aware of my drink, I don't need a reminder," B.E.N shrinks down from his yell. The whole cabin was quiet for a moment until Flint clears his throat.

'Have you spoken to our new crew member?"

"Oh yes! Yes sir," B.E.N replied.

"And how is she?" He added.

The robot almost smiles. "She sounds wonderful! Even though I think she could be homesick." Flint raises one of his eyebrows.

"Homesick you say?"

"Yep," B.E.N nodded. "I didn't know this paraly you and her made was the key for her to go home."

"Hm how interesting," Flint hummed while playing with his half-empty bottle of rum. And then asks this question.

"Had she said why she wants to go home?"

"Well, I think she's scared of staying here sir. Which I understand why since being on your ship is scary," Then B.E.N looks down sadly. "Still though, I'm going to miss her when she leaves,"

Flint almost smirked when he saw his robot looking gloomy. For him, it was the perfect way to have this woman stay longer. He pretends to act in sympathy for him.

"Aww don't worry B.E.N. She won't be leaving anytime soon."

"Really?"

"Sure," Flint replied. "If you try convincing her how my ship is not that scary she might change her mind. Calling her parlay off,"

"Oh maybe I can," His robot grinned. "I can show her being on a ship won't be that bad, after my experience of course." He points to himself proudly.

And then spread his arms out excitedly. "And we're going to be best friends in the whole galaxy,"

"Ah, I'm sure you both will," Flint chuckled darkly. His plan was coming along good than he expected. Tomorrow he might be able to find out her secret sooner. And whatever the secret she is keeping, he will make sure to make her spill it all out.

[shanastoryteller]

how different do you think the story would be if draco malfoy had been picked as the hogwarts champion?

draco doesn’t know how this happened, and he’s pissed off in between being terrified. he stands up, nose in the air, and walks to the front of the great hall, taking his place between fleur and viktor. 

he expects them to look thrilled. if he’s the hogwarts champion, they’re going to have an easy time of it, but instead the both of them just look concerned. he’s been talking with both of them, friendly with both of them, because he’s not an idiot, he knows what power looks like. 

he knows what it isn’t, and it’s him. he’s smart, and strong, but he’s a fourth year and even with all the spells he’s not supposed to know, he doesn’t have the easy, solid presence of viktor of fleur, people who are not only powerful but know how to wield their power, unlike potter who just stumbles around accidentally defeating monsters with that stupid confused look on his face. 

then, as if this whole situation isn’t bad enough all on it’s own, the goblet spits out one more name. 

harry potter. 

of course. draco doesn’t know what he expected, really. 

severus yells. his parents make an awful lot of scary threats that he knows they’re prepared to deliver on. his aunt floos over from the magical artifacts office to try and declare the goblet faulty, but it’s not use. 

his name came out of the goblet, so he has to compete. 

he can’t help but notice, however, that no one yells on behalf of potter, no one comes to his defense in the face of this ridiculous task they’re supposed to complete, not even dumbledore, even though potter’s supposed to be some sort of golden boy. it seems, maybe, that everyone’s forgotten along the way that he’s a kid too. 

that night his parents send him a package, and he rolls his eyes because he hasn’t worn something like this since he was a kid, but it’s not like he doesn’t understand the rational behind it. he slips the dainty silver ring on his middle finger, and makes a mental note to fidget with it. 

~

his housemates rally around him when he gets back, faces solemn, quiet as severus towers behind him. 

he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “well,” he says, “are we going to win this or not?” 

a slytherin is the hogwarts champion. he can’t get out of it, so he’s going to win it, he’s going to rub silver and green in the face of everyone who’s ever looked at him sideways because of his house. 

over a hundred eager smiles meet him. if he succeeds, all of slytherin succeeds, and so all of slytherin is going to help him. 

~

he finds out about the dragons from Flora, who’s cousin is an intern in the department of magical creatures. snape ropes his newts level slytherins into devising a sleeping potion powerful enough to take out a dragon, and cassius drills him in manipulating the bubblehead charm until he’s exhausted and his fingers ache and lungs hurt. pansy promises to carry the potion with her on the day of the first task so draco can cast a simple summoning charm to get it from her in the stands. 

the day of the first task, he summons the potion, casts a giant bubblehead charm around them, then a smaller one on himself, and smashes the potion in the center of the dragon’s forehead. it roars, and blue mist surrounds them, and then there’s a thunderous crash as the dragon falls to the ground, asleep. draco cautiously darts forward to collect the golden egg, darts away, and casts a dissipation spell before ending both bubblehead charms and running as far away from angry, sleep muddled dragon as he can get. 

he thinks it’s a pretty impressive display until potter flies around the horntail, outflying and out maneuvering her, and coming away victorious with the golden egg tucked under his arm. 

the second task seems to throw everyone for a loop. even severus looks perplexed by the screaming egg, and nearly his whole house writes their parents and uncles and cousins for advice. 

it all ends up being worthless.

everyone’s huddled around the egg in the common room, and there’s a pounding sound. draco closes the egg and they all look out the window, which of course leads out to the great lake.they are in the dudgeon after all. 

there’s a merperson, young based on the pattern of their scales, who’s pointing towards the egg, and them pointing towards themselves, then gives an approximation of a wink and swims away. 

marcus flint, of all people, is the one who figures it out. “water,” he says, “listen to it under water. it’s a mermaid singing.” 

his prefect takes him to the baths, and him and as many people as they can cram in there listen to the egg sing it’s pretty song. there’s some debate about what the merpeople will take, with vincent suggesting all his hair products and daphne offering up his broom, but it doesn’t actually matter what it is, because what they take doesn’t change what he has to do, which is get it back from them. 

severus offers gillyweed, adrien pucey says that draco might as well take advantage of the bubblehead charm he already knows, and theo, who is terrifying and brilliant, says it’s too bad he doesn’t have the durmstrang ship. 

they all go quiet, and severus stands up and says that he can’t hear this, then leaves, “hear what?” theo asks, blinking, and marla, who’s already been accepted to cairo’s curse breaking graduate program, leans forward, eyes bright, and starts coming up with a plan. 

then draco finds out they’re taking people, not things, and that’s just not on. 

they’ve taken his cousin. 

“luna lovegood?” potter asks, confused, because he’s an idiot, and draco ignores him. 

the stakes are suddenly much higher. he doesn’t think they’d actually let the hostages get seriously hurt for this contest, but intentions don’t mean much to him right now. 

the other three champions go bolting into the water. draco turns and goes the other direction. 

everyone’s in the stands, so the durmstrang ship is completely empty. people must be figuring out what he’s doing, because there’s some angry yelling, but stealing a ship isn’t against the rules, so. he does just as marla told him to, and he doesn’t know what and who she had to do to get this information, but he’s too grateful to question it. he steps to the captain’s helm, activates the underwater mode, and the boat sinks into the great lake.

steering is extremely difficult and requires more upper body strength than he’s thrilled with, but he’s surrounded by a pocket of air as the ship zooms past the other contestants, so he doesn’t care all that much. he throws up the shield to barrel through the line of merpeople acting as a barrier. he uses a severing spell to cut the ropes and summons luna into the ship. as soon as he crosses the barrier, into the air, she gasps awake, and he carefully sets her on her feet. 

“cousin!” she greets, smiling. “headmaster dumbledore said that i would be thing you most sorely miss. that means you like me, right?” 

“wrong,” he says gruffly, flicking her radish earring. “i love you, but i don’t like you, you’re weird and annoying.” 

she just keeps smiling at him, eyebrows raised, and uhg, this is the worst, she’ll never leave him alone now. “well,” she says, “we are related, after all.” 

“hey!” he says, but she only giggles. 

they should be leaving, he’s gotten here first and he can get back first, with his cousin in tow. 

but. 

what if something happens to the others after he leaves? viktor and fleur will be so upset if something happens to their girlfriend and little sister, and well, it’s not like harry will be any fun to poke fun at if he’s busy mourning his best friend. 

he can’t just say that though, and it’s not like he’s willing to come in last just to make sure everything gets back okay. 

“cousin?” luna asks, head tilted to the side. 

“shut up,” he says, and taps his wand on his hand. 

he transforms three wooden dummies with the hostages respective names carved into their chest, then right below it adds early bird captures all the prizes, xoxo draco and swaps them out, although he has to keep the ships shield’s activated while he does because the merpeople are pissed. 

gabrielle huddles into luna’s side, who speaks even less french than gabrielle does english, but draco’s too busy steering the ship to play translator. 

granger and weasley stand next to each other, staring at him like they’ve never seen him before, and he really wishes they’d stop looking at him. “what?” he snaps. “i just - i’m just trying to - to make them angry, is all.” 

“right,” weasley says, eyebrows pushed together. he and granger share a look. draco doesn’t know what it means, but he hates it. 

“oh, piss off,” he grumbles as the ship breaks the surface. 

the durmstrang students are clustered near the shore. their headmaster looks pissed, but all the students are laughing, so draco doesn’t feel too bad about the whole thing. 

viktor and potter bring back their wooden figures, and fleur stops crying and kisses him on both cheeks when she realizes draco’s gotten her sister. potter hugs granger and weasley, and the three of them keep looking at him. 

draco gets nines across the board, with each judge deducting a point for stealing, which he doesn’t think is fair. no one said stealing wasn’t allowed after all. 

~

the third task happens, and everything goes wrong. viktor attacks him, and later he finds fleur unconscious and sends up red sparks for her. he ends up fighting back to back with potter, which is hell, and the golden trophy is across from them. he and potter look at each other, for a moment completely still, and then they both go running. draco’s so close, he’s not going to let harry win this, even if the whole thing does seem a bit unfair what with viktor having lost his mind and attacking fleur, but draco’s not about to be a hufflepuff about this. 

because there’s no justice in this world, they grab it at the same time. 

draco’s used a portkey plenty of times, and it doesn’t disorient him. he lands on his feet with his wand out, and pointed right at a man with overly large front teeth. 

a crackly voice says, “kill the-”

draco doesn’t wait around for him to finish that sentence. “stupefy!” 

the stunning spell works, and the man falls to the ground with a loud crunch  that would be concerning if draco cared. “malfoy?” potter mutters, finally getting to his feet, looking too pale and green around the edges. his hand is pressed against his forehead. “i-i think something is wrong. we should leave.” 

“malfoy,” that same crackly voice says, and draco leans forward cautiously. “good, good. lucius’s boy. you’ll finish this, then.” 

cradled in the man’s stupified arms is a scaly creature about the size of a large toddler with beady red eyes. 

draco’s hit with overwhelming wave of revulsion, with wrongness, that he’s never felt before and can’t explain. “I-I,” he pauses, stepping back, and in front of potter, who still looks like he’s going to be sick at any moment. he keeps his wand out, but uses his other hand to twist the ring around his middle finger three times. 

“pick me up,” the thing commands, “we have work to do. i need your flesh.” 

oh, merlin above. 

there’s two pops, and then his parents are here, following the distress signal sent off by his ring. 

“mum, dad,” he says, taking another stumbling step back, finally able to breath when they step in front of him, wands raised, “that’s - i think,” he pauses, “that’s the - the dark lord.” then, because he wants them to make informed decisions, “he tried to kill me.” 

“did he,” his mother says, voice icy. his father sighs, like he already knows what’s coming, but makes no move to stop it. “avada kedavra.” 

there’s a flash of green light, and when draco peeks around his father’s shoulder, the scaly creature is unmoving. 

“dear,” lucius says mildly. 

narcissa turns, holding out her arm, and draco tucks himself against his mother’s side. “yes darling? surely you didn’t really want to get involved in this mess again. and,” her voice drops, “he tried to hurt our son.” 

“yes, of course,” he says, reaching out a hand to brush it through draco’s hair, “but keep in mind there are plenty of people who will want explanations of what just occurred. he’s not actually dead, you know.” 

his mother hums, “well, i suppose we’re changing sides.” 

lucius frowns, but it’s not like he’s going to argue with narcissa, so he says, “very well.” 

“um,” potter says, and the three of them turn to look at him, “what?” 

“that’s a portkey then?” lucius asks, looking to the trophy on the ground. daring, “i’ll handle things here, you go back with the boys. surely there’s someone who set this up waiting for whoever returns.” 

“uh,” potter says, “er, sorry, i just - can we take pettigrew too? he - i can use him to clear my godfather’s name, is all.” 

his parents both make a face like they’ve smelled something rotten, and his mother sighs. “i suppose dealing with sirius is one of the many prices we’ll pay for switching sides. very well. petrificus totalus! wingardium leviosa!” the mans stunned body rises, and voldemorts’ pathetic corpse falls with a dull thump. she looks expectantly towards them. “ready?” 

potter shoots him a desperate look, but if he’s looking for draco to explain his mother, he’ll be waiting for a long time. draco had given up on that by the time he turned five. he wonders if all this means that he and potter will actually manage to be friends. 

“come on, potter,” he holds out his hand, “mum’s probably going to kill at least one more person tonight, so best not to start questioning things now.” 

“at least two, if i get my hands on dumbledore,” she sniffs, grabbing draco’s other hand so she can travel with them by portkey. 

potter looks down at his outstretched hand, then back up, and only hesitates a moment more before taking it. “call me harry. isn’t ant of this, you know, weird for you?” 

draco shrugs. “we’re wizards, harry. weirdness is relative, don’t you think?” 

harry’s just grabbed the portkey, so his laughter gets cut off, and draco tries not to mourn the loss. 

hopefully, now he’ll get a chance to hear it again, after all. 

[greenglassmountain]

You just finished season 1!!! What do you think of it so far?! ahskshs I can’t wait until you watch season 2, it’s one of my favorite seasons. (also who are your favorite characters so far? 👀👀)

I have finished season one! I am both very confused and way too invested in this show. Everyone’s pasts are being revealed piece by piece, and it’s so confusing but intriguing that I can’t look away. Do I know what their goals are? No. Do I want them to get them? Yes. Everyone’s so intense in this story and I’m pretty sure that counts for 80% of my interest right now. Like goddamn, I don’t know what you want and neither do you but that’s not stopping you from barrelling ahead and I respect that.

Max is my darling, my favourite, my beloved, and I want only the best things for her. Silver has grown on me an alarming amount, considering I spent the entire first few episodes side-eyeing him. His bluntness is definitely an endearing factor for me; every time he’s like “don’t look at me, I just want to stay alive here” I start laughing because it is waaaay too relatable. He’s literally me in a DnD campaign. The chaos is unparalleled, the style is immaculate, the long-term consequences are ignored. My man keeps digging himself into deeper and deeper holes and it’s kind of hilarious to watch.

Flint is… my man’s a mess, tbh. I’m somehow both impressed and appalled by him, and I’m also heavily invested in him getting everything he wants. I was actually trying to explain this to a friend, and the best way I could find—and this is going to sound really odd but bear with me— was to compare him to those clips from video games where a car rockets off the tracks, flies through the air, crashes through ten different things, flips, and lands on its wheels and keeps driving as if nothing has happened. Like, that’s the vibe! That’s Flint! He somehow keeps pulling things off, and I have no clue how he does it but it’s very impressive. Like, this is simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest man I’ve seen in my life. He’s thinking ten steps ahead while also flying by the seat of his pants. If nothing else, his sheer audacity commands respect. Crew mutinying? Lie. Friend suspicious? Lie. Get called out for lying? You guessed it—lie some more! I take back what I said about Silver digging himself into holes—Flint is definitely the champion of hole-digging. But he also seems to be the champion of unlikely solutions, so maybe it’ll even out. Either way, he’s definitely a touch unhinged and I love it. Go feral, king.

I haven’t really gotten attached to Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny yet. I mostly want to fix his hair, to be honest. And Anne getting to stab the rest of their crew for abusing Max was very therapeutic. I swing wildly between rooting for Charles Vane and wanting him to keel over and die, so I’ll let you know when I’ve reached a conclusion. I don’t really have an opinion on Eleanor Guthrie, because I respect her ambition, but she also hurt Max early on, which soured my opinion of her. On the other hand, not doing that would have stood in the way of Flint finding the location for the Urca, which I also couldn’t abide, so… Jury’s out on her and Vane, but I am certain that those two deserve each other. Not sure whether I mean that in a good or a bad way, yet. We’ll see how we go.

My first favourite character was actually Gates. His competency and bromance with Flint gave me life, and then… well… we saw how that ended. I almost cried. Also, Billy. Billy was a favourite. Why do they keep killing my faves? I’d like to register a complaint.

[im-the-punk-who]

Hi, I dont know if you read or know anything about Macchiavelli's "Il principe", but I am studying it in school and I cant help but compare it's fundamentals to how Flint leads. I'm just curious about what you think

Eekekekekekekekekekekkek okay so first off Anon, you are absolutely, 100% right to be getting those vibes. If it’s not actually textual it is at the least meta-textual that Flint ascribes to a very Machiavellian type of leadership. His whole ‘never was there a Caesar who couldn't sing the tune’ speech is...licherally a direct reference to Machiavelli's philosophy that leaders cannot retain their leadership without sacrificing some level of ethical behavior in order to manipulate and deceive their subjects into following them.

And, Flint owns at least two books from thinkers who drew directly on Machiavellian thinking in their texts: De Jure Belli Ac Pacis by Hugo Grotus and The Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes are both visible in Flint’s cabin, and both drew heavily on the type of leadership principles established in books like Il Principe. 

(Also, my eternal quest for the book that sits *under* The Leviathan in that scene remains. Y’all I will literally pay someone for this knowledge. My best guess is Plato’s De Republica.)

In fact, the whole system that Flint’s world was operating under at this time was very machiavellian in influence. 

Henry VIII, who converted to Protestantism and who would eventually lead England in the conversion from Catholicism to Protestantism that would then in turn eventually lead the country into the War of Spanish Succession(the war being fought during the London 1705 flashbacks), was a student of Machiavellian thinking. He took the teachings of Il Principe to heart and used them to transform his country. Over the next hundred and fifty years, England would change from an entirely Catholic country to a Protestant one. Of note, Catholic scholars generally disagreed with Machiavelli’s principles on the grounds that it did not support the Divine Right of Kings.

As well, the Enlightenment thinkers that influenced Thomas Hamilton(and Flint himself) were starting to argue more for personal liberty and choice of the governed, both concepts presented in Machiavelli’s writings. (For those following along, this approach was also being used to justify slavery, as what was ‘good for the state is good for the man’ was used as justification for everything from impressment to colonization and slavery. Men were willing to set aside their morals for what they justified as good for the state. Shrug emoji.)

As James says of England when he and Thomas view the hanging in London:

“You think Whitehall wants piracy to flourish in the Bahamas?”

“No I don’t think they want it but I think they’re aware of the cost associated with trying to fight it. And I think that that sound travels.”

Here we see that Flint knows what Thomas doesn’t or does not want to accept: that England is willing to sacrifice some morality and some amount of lives(both of pirate-prisoners and the ships they take) in order to save themselves the financial burden of rooting out the causes of piracy. The justification for piracy was that it is too costly to fight, and that the nation ultimately benefits from a bit of strife as it drives prices up and allows England to place within the sights of its citizenry an identifiable enemy. (Note that Blackbeard also argues the same of Nassau, that prosperity ‘made it soft’.)

Even as he is changed by Thomas’ line of thinking, this lesson will stick with Flint and we’ll see it over and over again as he deals with the men’s hatred of himself by redirecting them towards other avenues(Vane, Hornigold, England, etc.)

And in actuality, this is what sets Thomas very much apart from his political brethren - he was *not* willing to sacrifice his morals in order to achieve a ‘more effective’ victory. Once he realizes that moral deficit shown by England, he creates the pardon plan to argue directly for a more moral and just way of governance. His whole premise for the pardons was to show England that an approach that considered the needs and wants of the governed was ultimately more effective, both in cost and in gaining the genuine good will of the people. And again, this is another likely reason why Thomas was then targeted by Peter Ashe and his father. Railing against the entire system of government was dangerous. Particularly if one was railing against the government in a way that could be seen as support of an opposing system of religion and political rule(remember how I said before that Catholics were generally against the Machiavellian systems?) Put plainly, Thomas’ rejection of Machiavelli’s leadership tactics would have been yet another argument for his treason against the crown.

Interestingly also, Marcus Aurelius - Thomas Hamilton’s homeboy - is said to be one of Machiavelli’s five “good” emperors, of whom Machiavelli wrote,

“[they] had no need of praetorian cohorts, or of countless legions to guard them, but were defended by their own good lives, the good-will of their subjects, and the attachment of the Senate.”

How we tryna be.

And so we see that Flint has - not so much fallen back into England’s line of thinking but perhaps that he never really fell out of it. And that this is actually a rift in his potential ability to conform to Thomas’ line of thinking, assuming we see that line as more morally correct. We do see Flint, gradually, throughout the course of the show, move more away from this Machiavellian line of thinking, especially once he meets Madi and the Maroons.  And to me at least it’s one of the most important character shifts we see - in contrast to the trajectory of John Silver becoming Long John Silver  - throughout the series. Just as Flint is finally starting to really value the lives of those around him, Silver has learned how effective those tactics can be in achieving his goals. As Hands says - ‘I wonder if he knows how much you learned from him.’

And in fact, Silver almost directly quotes Machiavelli at one point when he talks to Flint about their different leadership styles.

“I once thought that to lead men in this world, to be liked was just as good as being feared, and that may very well be true. But to be both liked and feared all at once, is an entirely different state of being in which, I believe, at this moment, I exist alone.” 

Whereas Machiavelli in his chapters addressing cruelty and mercy writes

"Here a question arises: whether it is better to be loved than feared, or the reverse. The answer is, of course, that it would be best to be both loved and feared. But since the two rarely come together, anyone compelled to choose will find greater security in being feared than in being loved." 

This is clearly the approach Flint has taken - he is the most feared captain on the seas. Certainly in the colonial world and on Nassau, too, his name brings a certain amount of fear with it. Because of this he has been safe from rebellion for quite a long time - however he is also not unaware that his power comes from the people. In the very first episode he talks of his plan with Gates to “position people in all the right places so the crew would never turn.” He has, for an unknown amount of time but I would suspect from the very beginning, been manipulating the crew’s opinion of him to keep them happy. Gates himself, and Silver later, are prime examples. 

Both of them; Gates for the first ten years or so and Silver in seasons 2+3 act as a go between - being the ‘liked’ to Flint’s ‘feared’. They convince the crew - the ‘people’ in this case - that Flint’s plans are in their best interest and not truly the act of a tyrant. It is only when Flint forgets - or neglects to respect - that the will of his crew is how he keeps his power, that he really starts to fail. And, later also, that now he has a rival - Silver. 

Now, I do want to point out that personally I don’t think Flint is a needlessly cruel ‘ruler’ in the sense the crew sometimes thinks he is, nor is he trying to be as a king is to english subjects. He has power, of course, and he does manipulate, lie, and kill if necessary to maintain his power in accordance with Machiavelli’s principles, but he does not do so ruthlessly or to a degree that is unnecessarily violent, nor with only his own advancement in mind. His goals genuinely are in service of the people he leads, even if the tactics he uses sometimes put them in danger for it. Moreso, I would argue that Flint is a prince who created his own princedom. He took an existing power structure(the pirate council in Blackbeard, Hornigold etc) and took most of the power for himself, either through luck, violence, or political maneuvering. And then he kept it through skill and tactical advantage.

Silver, in contrast to Flint’s new princedom, is truly a ‘prince of the people’. He comes to power through convincing the other pirates that he has their interests at heart - even when he doesn’t. But Silver soon learns that being a well-loved leader is difficult. It isn’t until Silver kills Dufresne and Billy uses that fear to build a legend that ‘Long John Silver’ the pirate king comes into being. Silver learns, just as Flint knew, that in a world or corruption, often leaders need to make sacrifices of things they would have once deemed important. 

(I think it’s also important to note for Silver that his main goal is actually one Machiavelli writes of as being ‘a will of the people’. Silver’s main wish is not to rule, not really. His biggest motivator is ‘to be free’. To not have to make choices based on the will or subjugations of others. And so, he attempts to make the leadership forced upon him into something that frees him - unfortunately for him, Madi is right when she says that the ‘Crown is always a burden’ and it would be truly impossible for him to find the kind of freedom he wishes for while wearing it. Which, honestly, is part of why he ultimately fails in that regard as leader of the revolution.)

In the later seasons we see Flint go through this change in philosophy after he meets Madi and the Maroons. He begins to actually value the lives of the people he leads. When put to the choice of going through with the raid on the Underhill estate despite the risk it poses to the slaves on other plantations, Flint resists the idea. As he tells Madi - it would have cost them far more to ignore the ‘will’ of those people he hoped to lead - the slaves - than it would gain them to go through with the plan. And later, even though he can’t be blind to Max’s sway with Eleanor and the others, unlike Billy (and oh how the mighty have fallen, Mr. Bones!) he doesn’t even seem to consider keeping her rather than trading her for the lives of his other men. He no longer wants to trade a potential political victory for the suffering of those he leads. So, too, when he attempts to trade the cache for the fort, he is doing so with the goal being to not have to put those under his power in danger if there is another option. It is, at least to me, an incredibly moving character arc and one that is so very understated. 

And honestly, I think it’s what *needed* to happen before he could move on from his rage-hate bender and begin to find the sort of peace that one might argue those ‘good’ rulers had. Machiavelli’s principles tend to get in the way of your ability to connect with other people: when you see them just as pawns in a game, friends and foes lose their intrinsic value of just being important on an emotional level. It is only through learning to truly value his partners that Flint can learn how to be a better and more just leader.

Also, this passage in chapter 15 absolutely KILLS me in regards to both Flint, and Thomas Hamilton:

“Men have imagined republics and principalities that never really existed at all. Yet the way men live is so far removed from the way they ought to live that anyone who abandons what is for what should be pursues his downfall rather than his preservation; for a man who strives after goodness in all his acts is sure to come to ruin, since there are so many men who are not good.”

Like bitch!! We get it!! Too much sanity!!! Shut up!!!!!

Anyway, all this to say that you’re absolutely right in seeing parallels between Flint’s style of leadership and a Machiavellian prince - he is absolutely written as a prince-like leader. As are Silver, Rogers, even the Maroon Queen(and Scott and Madi as extensions of her) can be compared to certain rulers in Machiavelli’s archetypes. Even Thomas, who models himself after one of those ‘good emperors’ engenders a type of political leader Machiavelli writes about.

(Also lastly, i want to very quickly point out this guy, Cesare Borgia:

Who was a prince of ‘fortune’ who lost his princedom to trusting the wrong person. What a beard, amirite? What a face. He’s even got the rings! I’m sure this means nothing.)

So basically yeah, Flint is absolutely a Machiavelli bitch. 

[lauralestrange7]

Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Reader

  So hey guys I’m Laura and I’m pairing Oliver Wood x reader . I’ve always loved to read x readers but I’ve never written one before . So i’m writing this for everyone who’s interested and of course for myself , so here goes 

Warnings : none

---------------------------------------------—————

Wood was having a really bad day, even though it was a Saturday. He had prepared a team practice in the morning he had even booked the pitch for the day but then again those nasty Slytherin maggots had brought a letter from Snape permitting them to use the pitch. He, of course, had protested but it did nothing that thick-headed captain of theirs, Flint didn’t care if they had booked the pitch or not. He had returned to the locker room to change into his normal clothes fuming with anger. What had pissed him, even more, was the fact that his teammates weren’t the slightest bit annoyed by this, they were rather pleased with the fact that they could go back to their dorms and sleep. The Weasley Twins were cracking jokes. If he wasn’t in such a bad mood he would’ve yelled at them.

  And then again as they were having their Quidditch practice in the evening a second year had interrupted their practice saying that Professor Flitwick wanted to see him. Wood groaned “Ugh” he unwillingly landed on the ground and dismissed the practice then he dragged himself to Flitwick’s office. “May I come in sir?” he said trying his best not to sound annoyed “Oh Mr Wood come in, come in?” he said looking up from his desk his face was almost hidden behind stacks of books. “You wanted to see me Professor ?” he asked, “Oh yes,” he said with his little squeak of a voice “Mr Wood so as I was going through your essay the one I had asked the fifth years to write. I wasn’t very impressed with yours, it looks like you’ve written it in a rush almost unwillingly, numerous careless mistakes and it does not even cross the word limit, I could’ve even failed you but of course, you don’t want to fail to do you?” he asked. Wood remembered how he had forgotten all about the essay if it wasn’t for Percy he would’ve even not submitted it. Just a night before the submission date he had rushed it off from one of Percy’s note, he hadn’t borrowed the note because Percy wouldn’t allow it. Oliver had sneaked the note and he almost got caught but he managed to hide it just before Percy entered the dorm. “No sir” he replied knowing what’s coming. “Good then, you may submit another essay in a time of two days. “Two days ?” Oliver said in a shock .”You heard me now you may leave” Flitwick waved his tiny hand “But-” Oliver tried again “Good night Wood” Flitwick cut him off. Oliver left the office and had to force himself to visit the library, as he walked in many people whispered seeing him in the library as it was quite unusual Roger Davis had even had the nerve to say “Lost your broom eh Wood?” Oliver ignored it he has bigger things to worry about. He just walked straight to the bookshelves looking for a book that might come in use but he couldn’t find such a book. He reached out again for a book he hadn’t noticed that there was another hand too reaching out or the same book as soon as the hands came in contact the other person jerked it away and started looking for a different book. Oliver looked at the person and saw it was a girl in his year, he couldn’t remember her name and as he saw the green and silver hairband on her hair he couldn’t care less. He got the book and flipped through it but he couldn’t figure it, he had an urge to ask for help but he couldn’t, he was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper after all, and also the girl was a Slytherin. After a while of searching some more, he groaned in frustration. “Need help ?” a calm voice asked he whipped his head to see the girl. “Er no thanks- fine I do “ he gave up the girl simply grabbed some books and motioned for him to follow, so he did. He seemed pretty helpless, you always had liked this particular gryffindor. She sat down on a table an opened a book.

She helped him with his essay when they finished it was about curfew. Wood looked at her “Thanks” he said as she started gathering her stuff to leave she just nodded. Wood smiled and asked “What’s your name lass ?” the girl looked at him “It’s Y/N” she replied smiling. ‘What a pretty name for a pretty face’ he thought, but it appeared that he had not only said it in his head but he had said it loud enough for the girl to hear. She chuckled at him softly raising an eyebrow, slightly taken aback as she had not expected him to say it. Oliver’s face turned red as he covered his face with his hands.

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

[banditthewriter]

Trust Is Earned - Charles Vane - 2

The response to the first part of this series was so amazing. Thank you to everyone who has read/commented/liked/reblogged. I appreciate it so much. Here we have part two.

Remember, we’re not really supposed to like Vane yet. 

Pairings: Eventual Charles Vane x reader. Past Billy Bones x reader.

Warning: Mild violence. Also a general dislike of Eleanor Guthrie, sorry!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

------

“You look like you could use a drink,” a feminine voice said from your side. You looked over and gave half a smile to Eleanor Guthrie. “On the house?”

You handed over a package to Mr. Humphries, one of your most loyal customers. He smiled as he paid the rest that you were due, but the look on his face said that he didn’t think you should be standing so close to the Guthrie woman.

All of the people who had been friends with your parents protected you on this island, but that didn’t mean they protected you from just the pirates. They also protected you from the Guthries as best they could. 

You were one of the very few people on the island who didn’t rely on them for anything and they didn’t like that.

“I’m actually just heading back to my shop,” you said politely as you tried to turn past her and back into the street.

“I understand. It’s just that I’ve heard some worrying talk of late and I wanted to have a word with you about it.”

You hoped that your face didn’t show the irritation that you felt. Instead of fighting her on it, you gave a tight smile and gestured down the street towards the tavern. Inside she grabbed a bottle of something or other from her man Mr. Clark before she ushered you into the room she used as an office.

It wasn’t your first time there. She’d brought you in not long after you’d taken over the shop from your parents. They hadn’t been willing to bend their knee to the Guthrie rule, had their own contacts in and out of Nassau, and you had kept up that tradition.

She hadn’t been happy to say the least, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it when the entire island was basically against her in that regard.

You sat down across the desk from her and when she poured you a drink, you accepted the glass but didn’t actually drink any. You didn’t have much tolerance for alcohol and the last thing you needed was to be inebriated while not safe.

“What’s this worrying talk and what does it have to do with me?”

Eleanor gave a bit of a laugh as she poured a drink of her own.

“You just cut right to it, don’t you? That’s why I like you Y/N; you’re not afraid to say what’s on your mind.” She swished the liquid in her glass before she took a long gulp from it. “The talk that I’ve heard is that you were sheltering a thief on your land.”

You simply stared at her, not giving credence one way or another. When she realized that you weren’t going to give anything away, she cleared her throat and stood up to pace towards her balcony.

“Thievery isn’t acceptable and the man that’s accused is someone that you know; Billy Bones, from The Walrus.”

You put the glass down on the desk.

“Again, Miss Guthrie, what does this have to do with me?”

That seemed to throw the woman off her stride. You had to admit a perverse pleasure in ruffling her feathers.

“As I’ve just said–”

“You’ve said that there’s been talk. You can’t even be sure that Billy Bones is actually the thief since you’re referring to him as the accused and not the culprit. So it seems, Miss Guthrie, that you’re putting credence in a pirate’s word and dragging the citizens of Nassau into it erroneously.”

You had seen plenty of fish on dry land and you had to applaud Eleanor’s impression of one. Her mouth opened and closed as if you had stolen the words straight from her throat.

She cleared her throat and marched back to the desk, her hands going flat on the surface as she leaned down towards you.

“Where is the map?”

Gossip in a place like Nassau wasn’t just frivolous. Gossip was almost a currency. You might have just called Eleanor out on putting belief in word of mouth, but you knew that there was some gossip that could be relied on.

At one point in time, Eleanor Guthrie and Charles Vane were together. You weren’t sure how serious it had been, but you do know that it had ended rather messily. It was whispered among merchants and pirates alike that since that split, Vane’s crew hadn’t been getting the same treatment they used to in the way of leads.

You’d never given it much thought before, but with her in front of you, you had to wonder if Eleanor was what was called a scorned woman.

You were tired of living your life at the hands of others. Your store was still in shambles and now you were dragged in front of Eleanor as if she was a parental force and you were a naughty child.

No more.

“It’s curious,” you said as you sat up and straightened out your skirt. “Billy Bones supposedly stole the map which means it’s going to Flint already. I can’t think of any other captain that you would’ve sold the map to besides him.”

Her eyes went wide. The hands she had placed on the desk twitched, not nearly proof that you were right but you continued anyways.

“I almost thought that the issue was that someone had been stolen from, but you wouldn’t have cared if Vane lost in this. I bet that’s part of the draw. No, your issue is that the map means something to you. You couldn’t care less that Billy might have stolen the map. You just want to have it back for your own reasons.”

“You’re out of line,” she said as she raised a hand to point at you.

“I thought you liked that I spoke my mind,” you reminded her with a pointed look. Then you stood up, enjoying the look on her face as she scrambled a bit to come around the desk and face you. “I have no idea where the map is or who has it but if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t find myself moved by your facade and I would rather not help you benefit from it.”

Without waiting to be dismissed, you simply turned and walked back towards the door. You had no intention of staying longer than necessary.

“Charles Vane won’t stop if he thinks you have answers for him. What was done to your shop is just the beginning.”

Your hand rested on the handle of the door. For a long moment you just stared at the wood. Then you turned over your shoulder to meet her gaze once more.

“Then I suggest you find a better way to spend your time rather than wasting mine.”

------

It occurred to you as you approached your shop that perhaps there was a layer to the theft that you weren’t aware of. Maybe Eleanor had sold it to Flint as you suspected but it had either been stolen before she was able to get it or the inclusion of the cook was a variable she hadn’t foreseen. He was a new recruit to The Walrus so it was possible that she was worried he would sell it to someone else.

He didn’t have loyalty yet, but Billy did. That would explain why Billy was with Silver when they came to your shop. It wasn’t because Billy stole it, but he was making sure Silver did right by the captain.

As caught up in your thoughts as you were, you almost didn’t realize that the door of your shop wasn’t locked anymore. You pushed it open and stepped in before you realized you hadn’t had to unlock it.

A hand wrapped around your mouth and you were pulled further into the room, your back slammed against a wall. The door had been kicked shut so the room was mostly in darkness, but the man that held you stood close enough for your eyes to pick up an outline.

You hadn’t had much interaction with the man, but you recognized Charles Vane. You reached up to grab his wrist just in time for his other hand to wrap around your throat and give a squeeze.

“Don’t even think about screaming.”

You were tempted to bare your teeth and bite the hand that held you silent, but you kept your calm. Instead you pressed your nails into his wrist about as hard as he squeezed your neck.

“Careful. I could snap your neck in an instant.”

This time you did bite him. Not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to surprise him. He pulled his hand away and glared at you.

“I couldn’t exactly speak with your hand over my mouth, could I?” Your own glare paled in comparison to his, but you didn’t let that stop you. “I don’t suppose you’re here for some of my highly requested candles, are you? A lot of them were ruined by your crew yesterday, but I’m sure I can find some somewhere for you.”

The hand around your throat squeezed until you didn’t have enough breath to continue.

“Where is my map?”

He released your throat to allow you the chance to respond. After you took a few gulping breaths, you dropped your hands to your sides. It was best to try to appear nonthreatening when he was this pissed.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. When he started to squeeze again, you pressed against his shoulder as hard as you could. “Goddammit Vane, I mean it. I have no idea where the map is. I have no idea where Billy or the cook is and strangling me won’t get you the information any faster.”

The hand he had used to cover your mouth slammed into the wall beside your head.

“I should kill you for lying to me.”

Where was the spine that had you standing up to Eleanor Guthrie and calling her bluff? You took as deep of a breath as you could with the grip on your neck and how close Vane was to you.

“You could,” you allowed in a cold voice, “but think of what hell that will rain down on you. There are few merchants on this island that are as necessary as I am and there are none that could step into my shoes.”

“What makes you think I care about that?”

You knew there were plenty of crews on the island that would defend you if something happened. And the merchant’s would be less than pleased, would stop selling to anyone on The Ranger crew. Perhaps Vane couldn’t see that far ahead or maybe he was just blind to it at the moment. 

Either way, you didn’t want that to happen. 

“Is the boatswain worth dying for? Is that why you lied?”

“I lied to protect someone I care about. Isn’t there anyone in your life that you would do that for?”

His hand let up on your throat a bit. Not much, but you noticed it. You thought about your conversation with Eleanor and realized that maybe you had more options than you first thought.

“I can’t help you find the map but maybe there’s something else I can do for you.”

He stepped in a little closer, his body pressing along yours. It made it clear what he thought you were offering. The hand that was still on his shoulder shoved hard to put some distance between the two of you.

“I was thinking something a little longer lasting,” you said forcefully. And then with a tilt of your head, “Although it would be easier to explain the proposition without a hand around my throat.”

He released you and then stepped back. He gestured for you to speak before he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The whole of Nassau has heard about how things ended with you and Miss Guthrie. And the whole of Nassau has whispered about the effect that might have had on your business relationship with her. My proposition is this. Instead of selling your haul through her, you come to me. I have more contacts than she could imagine, more than anyone on this island is aware of.”

“You want to be the new fence?”

You shook your head at that.

“Not at all. This is a one time deal, offered to you and you alone. We’d negotiate terms like any deal. I’d be able to garner a profit that Guthrie would only be able to dream of.”

You knew that you had him on the fence, could see it on his face as he looked away from you. He was most likely thinking about the last few prizes he had brought in and what the profit had been. 

“There’s a flaw in your plan,” he finally said as he turned back to you. “If I stop going to her, she’ll stop giving me leads. Can’t bring in a profit on a haul that doesn’t exist.”

“Has she been giving you any real leads lately? I hear those are going to much smaller crews.” You shrugged your shoulders purposefully. “I would be able to provide you with leads without contest since you’d be my only client.”

He took a step towards you.

“Where do you intend to find these leads of yours?”

This time you smiled. This was something you had thought about, but you’d never needed the complication or extra work. If it tempered the anger of the captain, you’d happily take on the extra work.

“Again, I have contacts that span the entirety of the globe. I can get the leads from anywhere. I know of three large prizes that launch in the next few weeks alone at this minute and that’s without me actively searching for leads.”

He seemed impressed but not sold yet. You had one last card to play but it was a tricky one. If you misread his feelings on the matter, you could be setting yourself up for trouble. 

That in mind, you took a few careful steps away from him.

“Think of how much it will piss her off. Not only would you no longer need her, but you’d be thriving without her and she won’t know why.”

The gamble made, you could only wait. His face didn’t show any inclination as to what he felt. Then he turned towards you and held his hand out.

“We have a deal. We’ll sit down and draw up some terms on the particulars another time.”

You let out a breath before you stepped back towards him. Carefully you took his hand and gave it a brief shake.

It was the first touch that didn’t have the hint of violence. You had to admit that the roughness of his hands felt nice against your skin.

Then you dropped your hand back to your side.

“Now that that’s been decided, I suggest you get out of my shop. I still haven’t repaired everything from your last visit and I’d hate for that to color my opinion of our new partnership.”

You thought you could see a hint of a smile on Vane’s face before he turned towards the door. He stopped before he opened it.

“If I find Billy Bones, I might kill him.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you won’t. We’ll see.”

He didn’t say anything else, just slipped out of your shop. You went over and did your best to lock the door again even though it had obviously been kicked open when Vane had snuck in before you got there. 

Hopefully you made the right choice.

------

The morning sun had already started to heat the shop. You cursed under your breath as you moved the broom around the backroom, sweeping up the last of the damage from Rackham’s rampage as you had started to refer to it. 

There were plenty of things broken, but not everything. Nothing that you would have trouble replacing at least. 

A shadow passed over where you were sweeping. Startled, you looked up to see who it was.

Ah, this wasn’t a meeting you expected. Standing in the doorway to the backroom was Captain James Flint. His hair was partially tied back, clothes in order for a man who spent most of his time on the sea.

You thought he might have been in the Navy before… before Nassau, before his piracy days. Everyone had a life before, even the fearsome James Flint.

“Captain Flint,” you greeted as you continued to sweep up the broken bits of pottery on the floor. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

He took in the general disarray of the shop and then looked back at you.

“I’m looking for my boatswain.”

You nearly snapped the broom in half at that. You were getting really tired of people asking you where Billy Bones was.

“I’m sorry captain, I honestly have no clue. Last I saw him, he said he was going back to the beach.”

Flint nodded. He gestured around the room with one large hand.

“I doubt he did this.”

“Does it matter who did it? It’s been done and it must be fixed.” You looked down at the floor and then sighed. “Billy and the cook, Silver, did come here for shelter but once it became knowledge that The Ranger crew was aware of my connection to Billy, we decided it was best if they left. He told me to tell Vane and his men that he went to the interior, to someone named Mr. Blackwell.”

Flint’s eyes grew wide at that, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“Thank you Miss Y/L/N.”

So the name wasn’t just to confuse Vane; it was a code for the captain. Hopefully he would have better luck at finding the men than just about everyone else on the island had at this point.

Flint turned to start to leave but he hesitated at the door. His hand tapped once, twice, before he turned to face you again.

“Billy is sweet on you. He wouldn’t want to think of something happening to you because of him. I can… take you to the beach, put you on The Walrus until all of this is done. You’ll be safe there.”

You smiled and crossed into the store properly. With one hand on the counter, you looked around the store fondly.

“This is my home, Captain Flint. No danger will make me leave it. When you see Billy, tell him I said he’s a fool, but he’s not to blame for this.”

You could actually see the surprise and respect in Flint’s eyes at that. He gave you another nod and then opened the door. On the other side you saw Mr. Gates, the quartermaster. He gave you a quick nod before the two of them disappeared, heads together as they discussed what they now knew.

That Flint would offer to shelter you from danger on Billy’s behalf made you pause in your cleaning. The two of you were close and you did care for the man, but it wasn’t anything more than that for you. He was good company, surely, but you had never made any indication that you wanted more or that you felt more for him.

Hopefully the captain was speaking generally. Otherwise you might have to have a difficult conversation with Billy once things settled down.

------

The map had been located but in a turn of events that no one could’ve seen coming, it had been lost to the sea in the ensuing scuffle to retrieve it. The mere idea that this map which had been the cause of so many problems was gone without anyone able to salvage it was almost laughable.

And more than that, Silver and Billy hadn’t been able to decode the map before it had been lost. 

Billy had come to see you once but it hadn’t been for more than an apology. He helped you lift some of the shelves that Rackham had torn down but he hadn’t even looked at the door that led to your rooms.

You weren’t mad at Billy for what happened. It might not have been a smooth transition, but it actually led to you having a growth in business. You and Vane had come to agreeable terms in your negotiations and both of you benefited greatly from the new business venture.

You’d be tempted to thank Billy if you didn’t think it would anger him beyond belief that you were in business with the man who had threatened to kill him.

Such was the life with pirates though. Threaten to kill you one day, work at your side the next. Your neck was still sensitive to the touch after the night Vane had visited you. You knew the feel of his hand on your throat but you also knew the feel of his hand in yours. 

Money had a way of making other things seem insignificant.

And maybe the next time that Billy did make overtures towards you, you might think twice before you let him back into your bed. It was merely to protect your new business venture.

X

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[aeruthien]

Black Sails 😁

Beware, here be spoilers for all seasons of Black Sails.

Favorite Male Character:  I’m gonna cheat and name both James Flint and John Silver. sshhh they are inseparable. Watching two points at the same time and all that.

I hated James Flint in the first season, but what a character. Holy damn. There is just SO MUCH going on with him ALL THE TIME and Toby Stephens... How the hell does he do it? It’s insane. They took this one or two lines from Treasure Island and sculpted this magnificent character.

And John Silver has one of the most impressive character arcs I have ever witnessed. From the cowardly cook to the most feared pirate, the legend of Treasure Island... So well done.

Favorite Female Character: Max. Sneaky, smart, ambitious. What else can I say? She is just the best.

Least Favorite Character: I don’t really have any? They are all great, and served a purpose, even though I disliked them. I guess I wasn’t such a big fan of Charles Vane. He was fine, but mostly because of Rackham and Bonny.

Favorite Ship(s): Flinthamilton + Miranda, Silverflint and Anne/Max.

Shout out to The Walrus as well, that ship survived all the way to s4. When it finally sunk it felt like losing a character.

Favorite Friendship: Jack and Anne, if you can reduce that relationship to a friendship. Or Billy and Gates.

Favorite Quote: This is impossible, the whole show is one big awesome quote. Here are some: “Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced I am yours, I will be it.”

“You're an educated man, my lord, but I think it worth reminding you that in most cases a man trying to change the world fails for one simple and unavoidable reason... everyone else.”

“ When the king brands us pirates, he doesn't mean to make us adversaries. He doesn't mean to make us criminals. He means to make us monsters “

And the last one:

“A story is true. A story is untrue. As time extends, it matters less and less. The stories we want to believe, those are the ones that survive, despite upheaval and transition and progress. Those are the stories that shape history.”

Worst Character Death (if any): Miranda Barlow. It did NOT see that one coming at all. I was so shocked.

Shout out to Gates too. He was a good man.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment: The last Flinthamilton kiss. You know the one.

Saddest Moment: Silver and Flint’s final stand off. The pain on both their faces. The speeches. “There be dragons in the dark.” So, so good.

Favorite Location: Nassau. It’s the heart of the story.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

YES! POST THINGS! IM BORED!!!

Okie Dokie here you go!

The real reason I wanted an ask was because the original person who asked for this prompt isn’t in my inbox anymore...? Someone requested a one-shot about Revali failing at his gale, but I can’t find it in the inbox because I’m dumb/technology issues? (I think their name was trash mammal or something, idk). Anyway, here’s that, although I kinda, accidentally turned it into a character analysis of Revali...But an anon said that I apologize too much with requests. Therefore, I’m NOT sorry about that, I’m NOT sorry for the wait, and I’m NOT sorry that this is 3487 words long. Enjoy!

Edit: Sorry if the format looks weird on mobile, idk why!

The Pride of the Rito

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

The night was bitter in more ways than one. The snow that tumbled down on the Flight Range was thick, leaving clumps of ice on the roof. The air was hazy, a silver atmosphere that commanded the winds to howl towards the sky. The rugged mountains that surrounded the area isolated him and the trench. The only thing that could be seen past the lingering snowstorm was the faint blue glow of Medoh in the sky, for even the stars were captured under the white, with not a twinkle in sight. Outside, the flurries rested on the tips of his feathers and beak, a delicate moment in the midst of his relentless training.

Again. Let’s do it again. I need to be more precise.  

Revali knelt on the edge, teetering between the solid ground and the emptiness below him.  

He brushed the tips of his wing against the rocks, the winds rushing between his feathers. His body relaxed for a moment, closing his eyes and feeling the air. Then, he tensed, stiffening his wings on either side, in a motion as if to summon something from the earth. Well, he was summoning something. The air, the wind, the movement, the authority to conjure a draft below him. The winds were now picking up, swirling violently and circling under him, he could feel his jade anklets clinking around from the rampant air.  

Keep going. Keep. Going. It needs to be stronger, faster. 

The falling snow was now alive, dancing around as they were swept into the hurricane-like entity that was now surrounding Revali. His braids were flapping in the air, his cream colored scarf billowing. The winds were now cutting, bitter cold nipping despite his feathered features. 

Now, up. Release with control, direct it upwards. Not all at once. Keep the energy. Follow through the whole way. Command the ascent. Steer the flow. This is it!

A shaky breath escaped him. A strange charge now filled the air. The winds, once turbulent, now suddenly stilled, seeming to wait for their cue. He could feel it still swirling, inside of him, ready to burst at any moment. Then, his wings, still strained on either side of him, gave a mighty flap. The air now roared back to life, swelling beneath him. 

A tornado, a great pillar of air, now released into the sky. 

And he flew

…straight into a rocky cliff. 

“ARGH–”

The wind, quite literally, was knocked out of Revali, as he connected with the rocky ridge. He dropped, and then fell on the ground with a thud. He laid there, aching for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh.

Revali started to move, slightly, just enough to get his head out of the dirt. Then he knelt on the ground, for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating. Finally, he got up. The Rito armor, now dusted with grey snow and rocky debris, had protected most of him, however, it couldn’t protect the blow to his confidence. He cursed under his breath.

It seemed that instead of streaming Revali towards the sky, the gale had pushed him back, sideways towards the surrounding cliffs. With another flap of his wings, he moved back towards the wooden hut, shaking his head.

He landed on the armrest of the balcony, making his way to a little oaken desk. Snatching his journal (astutely named The Diary of Revali, the Rito Legend) he started scribbling down notes. Of course, being so focused on recording his latest happenings, he failed to notice the Hylian sitting amongst the pillows and blankets behind him. Putting the rest of his thoughts onto paper, Revali turned around and was greeted by your smiling face.

“Gah! [Name]? What– when did…how long have you been here?” 

You gave a quiet chuckle.

“Just half an hour or so. A blizzard was coming in and I knew you would be out practicing again. Being stuck here, alone all night, isn’t really ideal. So…”

You moved the blanket off of you, spreading your arms wide as if to present yourself or pose. A cheeky grin on your face.

“Ta-da! Now you have company!”

Moving the leather strap around your shoulder, you tugged a satchel onto your lap. Digging through, you pulled out two sealed containers.

“Plus, I brought some spicy meat stew.” 

Revali shook his head, moving closer to the blankets, but not daring to sit down.

“That’s alright, I’m not hungry.”

Acknowledging, and subsequently ignoring his comment, you shoved the soup container towards his chest, forcing him to hold it. 

“What? You get full from eating the snow and pebbles from your fall just now?”

His eyes then narrowed, “I’m trying to train.”

“By starving and injuring yourself?”

“By perfecting my technique– Listen, [name], if you came here to distract me from my goal, I’m sorry to inform you that your efforts will be for naught.”

Revali turned around, placing the spicy meat stew on the desk. He started making his way towards the landing outside.

You have out a huff. Getting up to follow him, you tossed both of the containers back into your bag and started walking.

 “Instead of focusing on long forgotten spiritual magic, why don’t you just focus on being the best you, you can be?”

“Farore above, did you really just say that? Incredibly cliche, I expected more of you–”

“I was joking.”

“Hmm, we need to work on your sense of humour.”

Outside, the air stung on your cheeks. The snowstorm still clouded the sky, masking both the heavens and the earth in white. Shivering, you asked,

“Rito can already fly, can’t they?  This seems a bit redundant, you already have wings. What’s even the point of creating an updraft?”

Revali slowed his pace to give out a hearty laugh. In fact, he stopped outright, on the edge of the landing, the echoes of his laughter filling the air. At this point it wasn’t entirely clear if he was being sarcastic or not. You crossed your arms, he stopped when he met your stiff gaze.

“Oh, so you were being serious then…”

A familiar smug expression crossed onto Revali’s face. He hopped back onto the railing, perhaps so he could physically look down on you. He tucked his wings behind his back, leaning forward ever so slightly. A professor about to give a lecture. This should be good.

“Well, as understandable as it is that a Hylian couldn’t comprehend the benefits of such an ability, allow me to enlighten you. Rito style archery is the most superior in all of Hyrule for a multitude of reasons. The light crafting of the bow, the quick and efficient draw, our graceful movements and technique, 

“But most importantly…”

He took one foot of the edge, half hovering over the windy pit.

“…the ability of flight!”

Both feet were now off the railing. Revali dove head first into the abyss. While you knew he was probably going to be fine, instinct kicked in as you hurried to the edge to check on him. 

Snow still fell through the air, flurries were once again sticking to his feathers. But all he felt was adrenaline, along with the rush of air as he plummeted towards the bottom. Before hitting the watery depths, he unfurled his wings, catching the natural updrafts of the Flight Range. Now soaring towards the sky, Revali gave a few more mighty flaps to get even more height. 

Still on the landing, you watched as a blur of navy blue rose above the cliffs. Contrasting with the grey and silver landscape, the blur shot through the air. Then it hovered, just below the clouds, still as a leaf.

Above the Flight Range, Revali shifted the bow off his back, allowing it to drop. Repositioning his weight, he dove down to catch it with a practiced grip. Falling through the air, he flipped upside down, just for show. Taking arrows from his quiver, he knocked them into place. Three arrows, all at once, were released. 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud!

All made perfect contact with the bullseye, the blue luminescent paint on the targets showing evidence of Revali’s accuracy and precision. Revali fastened another round of arrows, drawing them back before letting them through the air.

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Perfect, as should be expected of me.

Now, he was about halfway down in his descent. 

I think [Name] might be impressed if I warm up the place…

Taking the arrows near the bottom of the quiver, he took out three heavier bomb arrows. Round, scarlet heads held a good amount of gunpowder. Sparking them with a piece of flint on the arrow rest, the fuses were lit, and he let them loose. 

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

The once frigid air now subsided in the wake of three explosions. The colors of a sunrise clashed in the air, bits of the once turquoise targets nearly flung into your face. You ducked, the warmth of fire now filling the Flight Range. 

Revali spread his wings, catching the natural drafts once more, then settled back on the railing. 

“As you could see from my demonstration, taking to the sky allows for Rito to shoot our enemies without becoming a stationary target ourselves. However, you can only shoot for as long as you’re falling, and taking to the skies takes time.

“You can’t just flap your wings and get into the air immediately. That only works with natural updrafts, again, as I just demonstrated. An average Rito would have to start at an already elevated position, such as the landings in Rito Village, in order to gain enough momentum and height. Or, alternatively, use a long stretch of land as a runway, gaining height at an gradual angle.

He turned to face you, smirk still on his face.

“Both options take too long. You asked the significance of my ability? It’s the fastest way in all of Hyrule to take to the air. Instantaneous height, the ability to attack whenever, wherever. Thought impossible by everyone, but something that I have solely mastered.”

Or, will master, anyhow…

He strode towards you, bow returned to his back, wings, once again, folded behind him. He gave a deep bow.

You gave a polite clap, humoring his grand show.  

“Fantastic performance, Revali. Encore?”

“Tsk. If you came by more often I might consider it.”

Now it was your turn to put on a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. When I finish begging the elders to reward you with a statue, maybe I will.”

“I don’t want, nor need something like that.”

“Oh? But I have to reward you somehow…how about…”

You took out the stews from your satchel. Presenting it like a trophy, you held one out. Then, you tilted your head towards the hut with the pillows and blankets, as if to say, over there! You urged Revali again.

“You didn’t eat lunch, or breakfast!”

“Didn’t I just explain, a literal five seconds ago, how important it is that I practice my–”

“Aaaaaaand you can’t do that on an empty stomach, can you?”

You tried to catch his eye, maybe if he just looked at your eyes, you could get him to change his mind.

“You don’t need to put on an act around me.”

A jade eye shot up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not–”

Revali looked at you, a new charge filled the air. 

“…fine. Just for a minute.”

. . . . .  

“Did you even attempt to heat this?”

“It’s almost midnight, and I made it at nine. You’re the one who decided to coop up here all day.”

Despite the temperature, the stew was delicious. For the last hour or so, he and you had been devouring in the flavorful dish. Apparently, it was an official recipe from Rito Stable. The meat, tender and soft, complemented well with a savory broth that you slurped every drop of. The spiciness tingled through your bodies, warming the both of you up. Outside, the blizzard was still present, but now less violent. A thin slice of the moon could be seen beyond the edges of the mountains. 

It was you who made most of the small talk with Revali, an incredibly rare occurrence since it was usually the Rito Champion who spoke for extended periods of time. He kept looking outside, near the cliff he had crashed into earlier. 

Damn, he’s really still stuck up on that, huh? You thought. 

Trying to change the subject to something that would get his attention, you piped up.

“So, the move you’re working on, what’cha gonna call it?”

Revali turned his head back at you. He fiddled with the spoon in his half eaten stew, thinking.

“Something with ‘Revali’ in it, so my name’s out there. Revali’s Flap, Revali’s Hurricane…Revali’s…something. I’ll work out something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “As expected from you.” Shoving another piece of meat into your mouth, you added, “Maybe, *munch* maybe do something like Revali’s Turbulence. Oh! How about Revali’s Boldness! Wait, *munch* no, that’s stupid. But maybe a name more along the lines of Urbosa’s Fury, or Mipha’s Grace, ya know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I need to copy from the likes of Champion Urbosa or Mipha.”

“What? They both got cool powers. You know the saying is ‘good artists borrow, and great artist stea–”

“As I said, I don’t need to copy, steal, or piggyback on my fellow Champion’s esteemed reputation. Further associating myself with them will not be necessary”

You set your bowl down, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nayru save me, don’t tell me you hate them too?”

“What?”

“I mean, I guess I know from experience that you insult people that you like.”

“I…what?”

“Although, not just personal experience. From what I could gather, you seem to actually hate Master Link, but everyone else you just insult because that’s how you make friends. Wait, or are you actually trying to be friends with Link and you just suck at this kind of thing overall…”

Revali interjected in your rant, turning all his attention to you.

“I don’t hate them.”

“Master Link?”

“No, Urbosa and Mipha. Well, perhaps that knight too I suppose. I–I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then why have you been so bitter lately?”

This caught him off guard. You set your bowl down, holding his gaze. This whole week, Revali had isolated himself in the Flight Range, being sharp-tongued to visitors, much more than usual.  He wasn’t eating, Hylia knows if he sleeps. You decided to stop beating around the bush and got to the core of the issue.

“Revali, I’ve known you for a long time and I know by now when something’s up. You’re angry about something, or scared, you tell me.”

“It’s. Nothing.”

“Is it your new ability?”

 “No.”

“You only got the title of Champion two weeks ago. If you’re feeling pressured, that’s natural”

Revali let his bowl clatter on the ground. Getting up, he made his way outside.

“I’ll eat the rest later, I have to start practicing now.”

You raised your voice slightly, starting to get irritated. “Why is that so important, that you’re sacrificing your health and well being for it?!”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Are you trying to prove yourself? To me? To the Princess? The King? The Champions?”

Revali turned back towards you, but was still walking backwards. The sky was now serene, and full of stars, despite his not so peaceful expression

“I’ve already been deemed on an equal level with all of the other Champions. You know, the team made up of royals and accomplished warriors? I’m here because I’ve shown that my skills are superior to everyone else. Either way, I don’t need to prove anything to people that are of the same rank as me!”

“Hylia, you’re always so blunt with everything else, why not be straightforward now?”

“I am. I’m training because I’m an accomplished Champion who needs to train, not because I’m some mediocre warrior–”

“So you’re afraid of mediocrity?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

Both of you stood there, stunned. While the tension was building between you two, Revali’s sudden outburst was sudden. You both stood there, wind playing with your hair, and dancing through his scarf.

“…of course not.” His final lie, whispered into the air.

For a moment, there was no sound but the whistles of the wind. You took a step forward, arm outstretched.

“Revali…”

He shook his head, shaking his wings, exasperated.

“OK, Fine! You want the truth, about the updraft? It’s not about the practical use, or the grand show, or defying odds. It’s about me, ok?  Right now I’m nothing, just a random cuckoo walking amongst royalty and legendary warriors.

“Daruk, the Goron Elder with an impenetrable force field. Mipha, the Zora princess, whose healing prowess is said to counter even the most devastating of wounds. Lady Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo who can summon lightning at a literal snap of her fingers. How did I get in here? I’m put beside warriors who are obviously better than me, and what am I supposed to think? Without anything distinguishing about myself, I’m going to fade into history, behind the actually competent people. I thought I worked my ass off to get where I am today, but then I’m put behind some random knight with a shiny sword. So am I worth something or not? Everything’s contradictory, nothing makes sense.  Did I just get lucky? Am I getting screwed over? 

“The only way I can wrap my head around this whole situation is to confront the fact that I’m just an ordinary Rito who is only here by chance. The work I’ve put in my whole life isn’t enough, I need to go beyond. And beyond means actually mastering this cursed gale!”

An ugly pause. You could cut the heat and tension with a knife. Revali, realizing how much he had just poured out of his soul, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Heh, you put wine in that stew?”

His attempt to lighten the mood didn’t fully work. Nonetheless, you stared at him for another eternity. Then you went in for a hug.

“You’re the dumbest Rito alive if you really believe any of that. You are not mediocre. You’re incredible. Incredibly annoying, incredibly persistent at talking my ears off, but incredibly skilled and smart too. Hell, that’s why I’ve loved you for so long.”

Ignoring whatever reaction just escaped from his beak, you continued. 

“I would like to reiterate my point that you’re a moron. You can’t isolate yourself here and expect to get better. You can’t go through all this as a solitary warrior. If mastering this ability means so much to you, then go for it. I don’t doubt you for a second. But just know…just know that you’re a complete idiot if you think that you’re not worthy. You’re a fool if you think for even a second that you’re average or inferior, because…

You gulped.

 …because you’re everything to me.”

OK, I’ll admit that was super cliche. But catharsis is catharsis I guess.

The moment settled, and silence returned once more.

“Hylia, maybe I did put some wine in there.”

Revali gave out a soft laugh. Then, more quiet. Finally, Revali whispered.

“Did you really mean all that?”

“…yeah.”

A pause, a strange charge filled the air.

“Thank you, [Name]. That, uh, means a lot, coming from you. Truly.” 

The air was still once more. However, Revali’s thoughts still swirled like wind.

Say something idiot, they just confessed! 

Haha, yes, of course you like me, considering I’m the best around. 

Holy– They just called you out on your crap! Don’t say something like that

I love you too…

Wow, cheesy and not really part of the mood. Haven’t I presented myself as more sophisticated than that?

Spirits above, what do I do now???

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you worry all week.”

“It’s fine, I–”

“No, it’s not fine. We just established how that was not fine.”

Revali looked back at you, clearing his throat.

“Hey, so about all that about love, and stuff–”

“Oh my goddess, yeah, no, if you want to just stay friends I can–”

“Oh no, well. Just to be clear, you were talking about me, correct? You weren’t mispronouncing someone else’s name, or referring to someone else named “Revali?”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“No…I–I was referring to you. The person I was talking to.”

“Ah. Good. Glad that’s clarified. That’s great.”

“…so do you–”

“OH-oh-oh, right, uh yes.”

Revali took a step back, pointing at you with both index fingers. His beak was open, but no sound escaped for a moment. 

Say it! They said it a few minutes ago!

I love you too!

“I have also, liked you, a lot, for a long period of time. You’re, pretty great. Yep. Yeah. This is mutual, yes…” 

Gods, I’m really am an idiot

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars LXIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: The cat’s out of the bag -Danny

Words: 3,698

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Two: Another Truth Unveiled.

"We're going to have to move. We've got to be able to see the Whomping Willow, or we won't know what's going on." Harry commented after a moment.

"Okay, but we've got to keep out of sight, remember..."

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," Mel replied, taking a hold of the rope and pulling. "Let's go Beaky."

They walked for about three minutes until Harry stopped abruptly.

"There's Ron!" He whispered.

"Get away from him — get away — Scabbers, come here —" She heard Ron's voice plead.

Mel watched her own figure sprint across the grounds followed by Harry and Hermione's.

"Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat —"

"There's Sirius!" said Harry. "Looks even worse from here, doesn't it? Ouch — look, I just got walloped by the tree — and so did you — this is weird —"

"You sound too happy about watching yourself being hit over and over," Mel grinned.

"Well, it's not me who's getting hit, not really," Harry shrugged with a guilty smile.

"You have the bruises though, it sort of is you."

"That was Crookshanks pressing the knot," Hermione interrupted their chat.

"And there we go... We're in." Harry pointed.

Merely ten seconds later, Dumbledore, Macnair, Fudge, and the Committee member were making their way to the castle.

"Right after we'd gone down into the passage! If only Dumbledore had come with us..."

"Macnair and Fudge would've come too," said Harry. "I bet you anything Fudge would've told Macnair to murder Sirius on the spot..."

"They must think we were so foolish," Mel shook her head. "Giving Sirius the opportunity to explain himself, 'childish' and all... In my opinion, some adults lack the morals children have to spare."

"You can't deny it was a bit foolish," Hermione retorted. "Lupin disarmed us in no time."

"Mel would've done something anyway," Harry defended. "She always knows what to do, don't you, Mel?"

The girl shrunk in her place, slightly embarrassed.

"I dunno, Glasses..."

Harry opened his mouth to insist, but his eyes moved back to the Whomping Willow and caught sight of someone else.

"Here comes Lupin!– If he'd only grabbed the cloak, it's just lying there..."

His eyes widened and suddenly turned to look at Hermione.

"If I just dashed out now and grabbed it, Snape'd never be able to get it and —"

"Harry, we mustn't be seen!"

"How can you stand this? Just standing here and watching it happen?"

"What difference would make?" Mel frowned. "He got there, heard us talking, yelled a few times, and then we knocked him out. Besides, if I hadn't had him near me when you went after Black... Hold on, what happened when you went looking for Black?"

Harry hesitated.

"I'm going to grab the cloak," He repeated, standing up.

"Harry, no!" Hermione pulled him back down and at the same time, they watched Hagrid make his way up to the castle, apparently drunk. "See? See what would have happened? We've got to keep out of sight! No, Buckbeak!"

The Hippogriff tried to move towards the sound of Hagrid's voice, Mel stood up in front of him again and seized him by the neck, forcing him back down.

"Steady, Beaky," She grunted. "We'll visit him later, all right?"

"How are you not afraid of it?" Hermione shivered. "He almost ripped Malfoy's arm off his body."

"Malfoy had it coming," Mel shrugged. "All I'm doing is keeping a well-mannered attitude. Buckbeak listens because he knows I mean no harm, don't you Beaky?"

She patted the creature's beak. Buckbeak let out a pleased sound and ruffled his feathers. Harry smiled up at her in a way that made her feel taller. Five minutes later Snape made his way up to the Willow, he picked up something from the ground (Harry's cloak) and kept walking.

"Get your filthy hands off it," Harry growled.

"Shh!"

"Don't worry, Glasses," Mel put a hand on his shoulders. "In about ten minutes your past-self will knock the lights out of him."

"So that's it," said Hermione. "We're all down there... and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again..."

"That doesn't sound exciting," Mel pouted.

"Harry," Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her place. "There's something I don't understand... Why didn't the dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out... there were so many of them..."

"What?" Mel turned to look at them without understanding. "Which Dementors? You were attacked?" Harry grimaced.

He explained what had happened after they left her and Ron. What he'd seen; how just when a Dementor was about to kiss him (and this Mel didn't find funny at all) two large silver somethings had come across the lake and forced the dementors to retreat.

"I can't believe it," Mel shook her head, distraught. "And you decided I didn't have to know about this?!"

"There was no time!" Harry said defensively. "We woke up and Dumbledore told us all those things, and then we started– I just didn't see the point of worrying you when it's already over!"

"You could've died!"

"You could've died too! You almost bleed out!"

"But I didn't! I had it covered!"

"You didn't!"

"But what was it?" Hermione cut their argument.

"There's only one thing it could have been, to make the dementors go," said Harry, still quite agitated. "A real Patronus. A powerful one."

"But who conjured it? Didn't you see what they looked like?" asked Hermione. "Was it one of the teachers?"

"No," said Harry. "He wasn't a teacher."

"The only man who could've done it was my uncle, but he was a werewolf then. And Pettigrew ran to the other side... Hagrid had left long ago to the castle..." Mel thought out loud.

"But it must have been a really powerful wizard, to drive all those dementors away... If the Patronus was shining so brightly, didn't it light him up? Couldn't you see — ?"

"Yeah, I saw him," said Harry shortly. "But maybe I imagined it... I wasn't thinking straight... I passed out right afterward..."

"Who did you think it was?"

"I think —" Harry gulped. "I think it was my dad."

They remained silent for a moment, processing what Harry had said.

"Harry, your dad's — well — dead," Hermione stated.

"I know that."

"You think you saw his ghost?"

"I don't know... no... he looked solid..."

"But then —"

"Maybe I was seeing things– But... from what I could see... it looked like him... I've got photos of him..."

Hermione didn't speak, she was staring at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I know it sounds crazy–" Harry started.

"I believe you," Mel replied.

The boy looked up from Buckbeak's paws and stared at her.

"You do?"

"Yeah," She shrugged. "I've seen crazier things happen, I think that your father coming back from the dead in order to protect you isn't nearly as mental now that I've traveled in time. It sort of sounds doable."

Harry's gaze landed on a distant corner, she could practically see the gears in his brain struggling to find an explanation. He was trying to find a logical explanation, but logic didn't work when it came to things like magic. She'd learned that a while ago.

"Whoever that was," Mel nudged his arm gently. "They're my new hero. If it wasn't because of that Patronus, I would've lost my best friend."

Harry gave her a small smile, though he still looked far away in his own thoughts.

After five minutes, a realization hit her.

Harry had almost died, again. Far from feeling relieved that it was just a close call, she felt uneasy. What if she'd died, and Harry had found out of all the things she'd been hiding from him? Erick being the biggest one. Then her feelings... She didn't like lies and yet she kept finding excuses to keep things from someone who meant a lot for her.

"Harry?"

He hummed, looking back at her.

"I have to tell you something," He leaned back, a curious expression in his face. "But please, don't get angry."

Hermione's head turned to her and stared with wide eyes. Almost as if she'd read her mind, she got up and walked away mumbling something about a better view.

"What is it?" He frowned.

"You're my best friend," She started, already regretting her decision. "And you're... I–I would do anything for you, really. You know this, I'm always here to help..."

Harry's confusion increased, he tilted his head, not understanding.

"What I mean is that I'd never do anything to upset you, not consciously at least– and you know I like helping people, and some may say that's a problem–"

"Mel, I don't understand..."

"I'm friends with a Slytherin," She said, almost forcing out all the words at once. "His name's Erick and we've known each other since first year and I've been studying with him in the library because he asked me for help –He wants to know about the muggles and since I've been living as a muggle for the most part of my life he thought I could help..."

Harry blinked a few times, moving away from her.

"You... what?" He shook his head. "Since our first year?"

"I know I should've told you–"

"Is this why you're always saying not all Slytherins are bad–?"

"–But he made me promise I wouldn't say–"

"–You said it was a Ravenclaw!–"

"–He's helped me as well, he got me Pansy's hair last year and told me their common room's password–"

"–You've been telling a Slytherin our plans?"

"He's not bad! He was the one who warned me about the team trying to hurt you during the Quidditch match– His brother's the captain!"

"Marcus Flint?" Harry's eyes widened. "You're friends with Flint?"

"Marcus is hideous!" Mel exclaimed. "His brother's not though, I swear– and while you weren't speaking to Hermione we all studied together–"

"Hermione KNEW?" Harry looked back at the girl, but Hermione pretended not to listen.

"Ron and Hermione knew," Mel continued. "But they've known for a few months only– I made them promise they wouldn't tell you. Erick doesn't want anyone to know and if I'm honest I don't want that either."

Harry stood up, distressed.

"So... so you've been friends with him for almost three years... and you didn't tell me-"

"Because I know you have a bad impression thanks to Malfoy," Mel explained. "But he's not bad, please..."

"That's what he makes you think," He frowned. "Maybe he's just good at pretending."

"What would be the point?" Mel tried to remain calm, even if she'd heard the same thing already. "Be my friend for what? What could he possibly get?"

"I don't know!" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "All this time you've been talking with a Slytherin? About what we do?"

"He helped!" She exclaimed. "He's older, he's studied more!"

"I could've studied with you! I could've helped as well!"

"You barely have time to study your own things, Glasses," Mel replied tiredly. "I'm not upset about you not being able to help me. Erick is my friend and I like him, but you're my best friend, I don't want to keep things from you, especially the ones that could help you see..."

"See what?"

"That no opinion is final," She took a deep breath. "That a house doesn't equal personality. He's just as good as you and me, just has different interests, that's all."

She stepped forward, Harry stepped back.

"It took you three years to tell me this," Harry replied. "If you really thought it wasn't bad, then why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I don't know, many things happened then– Quirrel, the stone..." She wanted to add 'my growing romantical feelings' but decided to save that talk for another day. "Suddenly it felt like it was too late, and then it just felt impossible."

The boy wasn't angry– not quite, he looked more like he had a lot of things to process.

"Please don't hate me," She said softly. "I was afraid you'd hate me if I told you I was friends with a boy that represented all the negative things you've gone through at school."

"Why were you so sure I would judge?" He had a pained expression. "Did you really think I wouldn't listen? You are my best friend too, maybe if I had met him right away he wouldn't mean negatives things for me, but you decided to make it complicated."

She didn't know how to respond to that. He turned and walked away. He didn't look back. Mel pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in anger.

"I ruined it."

"Here we come!" Hermione told them.

Mel stood up and walked over to them, standing next to Hermione and squinting.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "we've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do..."

She saw Harry's expression, his shoulders fell.

"So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again..."

"How do you expect to find a rat in the dark? There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius; we're not supposed to be doing anything else!"

"All right!"

"There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered. "He's transforming —"

"My uncle had a rough night today, didn't he..."

"Wait!" Harry gripped their shoulders. "We've got to move!"

"We mustn't, I keep telling you —"

"Not to interfere! Lupin's going to run into the forest, right at us!"

Mel looked at both kids before sprinting towards Buckbeak.

"Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The dementors will be coming any moment —"

Mel untied the rope and snapped her fingers to catch the creature's attention.

"Let's go boy, c'mon!"

"Back to Hagrid's!" Harry told her. "It's empty now — come on!"

They ran to the cabin, closing the door behind them and guiding Buckbeak to the furthest corner.

"Shh, Fang, it's us!" Hermione whispered at the big old dog so he'd stop barking. "That was really close!"

"Yeah..."

Mel looked over her shoulder and saw Harry quickly turn away, he'd been staring seconds before, but didn't say anything.

"I think I'd better go outside again, you know," said Harry, looking out the window. "I can't see what's going on — we won't know when it's time —"

Hermione eyed him up.

"I'm not going to try and interfere, but if we don't see what's going on, how're we going to know when it's time to rescue Sirius?"

"Well... okay, then... We'll wait here with Buckbeak... but Harry, be careful — there's a werewolf out there — and the dementors —"

"I'll go with you," Mel walked past him and directly to the door.

"But–"

"Listen you can hate me all you want, but you already survived once, I won't risk it again," Mel glanced at him. "Two is better than one, and we know I'm faster than you."

He pondered for a second before nodding shortly, walking out of the cabin next to her. They walked in silence, then Harry came into a halt. The dementors were coming out of the darkness and they were all going to the lake. The boy didn't look at her when he spoke.

"I have to know."

Harry ran. Mel yelled his name and ran after him. What was he planning to do? Thousands of dementors were there in the lake, it was too dangerous. He finally stopped right across the place where Sirius, him, and Hermione were laying.

"Come on!" She heard him muttered. "Where are you? Dad, come on —"

Then she understood, he wanted to see it for himself, confirm whether if his dad had been there or if it all had been a hallucination. She looked around, expecting to see a figure approaching. Judging by their position, this was the place where Harry had seen the figure appeared...

She knew right away– Mel pulled out her wand and said, in a voice that sounded unlike her.

"It's us."

Harry stood up, understanding at the same time as her. They didn't need to say anything, they pointed upwards into the pack of dementors and shouting:

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Their wands made a soft explosion sound, and out of them came two creatures, at first too bright to make sense of, but as they went further away, she recognized them.  

A stag galloped around the lake and made its way back while a bird –a very big, long-tailed one– flew across the surface, forcing the dementors to retreat higher.

"Prongs," Harry whispered in amazement.

She was staring at the large figure skillfully flying around the night sky. She recognized the long tail and the shape of its head easily, she'd seen those in Fawkes thousands of times before.

"What did you do?" Hermione yelled at them, making her jump. "You said you were only going to keep a lookout! Mel, I thought you'd know better!"

The bright figures vanished, both kids turning to see the girl.

"We just saved all our lives..." Harry commented casually. "Get behind here — behind this bush — I'll explain."

Hermione listened to their story quietly, mouth agape.

"Did anyone see you?"

"Yes, haven't you been listening? I saw us but I thought it was my dad! It's okay!"

"Harry, I can't believe it... You conjured up a Patronus that drove away all those dementors! That's very, very advanced magic..." She looked at Mel, who was frowning. "Well I'm not surprised you did it, you've been doing advanced magic for ages now."

"I knew I could do it this time," Harry continued excitedly, "because I'd already done it... Does that make sense?"

"Confidence is key," Mel smiled softly.

Harry stared at her strangely again, she was getting used to these kinds of moments with him, where she didn't know what he was thinking. Hermione's words came to her, 'If you'd only see the way he looks at you, you'd know...'

Was this look the one Hermione meant? Because she was seeing it, and she'd never felt as confused as now.

"Look at Snape!"

The man had two stretchers floating at his side, Mel and Ron were in them. Then, he put Harry and Hermione in another two and gagged and tied up Black with a flick of his wand.

"Look at him, acting like he's everyone's savior," Mel scoffed. "If it wasn't for me he'd still be taking a nap while we're all dying."

"You wouldn't have been in danger if you'd have kept the piece of metal in place," Harry pointed out.

"Let's not focus on the little things..."

"It's nearly time," Hermione gave them a severe look. "If you two can stop bickering, we've got about forty-five minutes until Dumbledore locks the door to the hospital wing. We've got to rescue Sirius and get back into the ward before anybody realizes we're missing..."

And so they waited for what it felt like the longest time.

"D' you reckon he's up there yet?" Harry sighed.

"Look!" Hermione suddenly tensed. "Who's that? Someone's coming back out of the castle!"

"Macnair!" said Harry. "The executioner! He's gone to get the dementors! This is it —"

Mel rushed past them so fast they didn't get the chance to offer her help. She jumped swiftly and pushed herself up on Buckbeak's back. Hermione then inched closer and Harry helped her up, she sat behind her. Then Harry took impulse on one of the bush's branches and climb in front of her.

"Hey, I wanted to drive!" Mel huffed.

"Too bad," He said simply. "You'd better hold on to me —"

"I– What?" She asked coily.

Harry nudged Buckbeak's sides with his heels without replying. Mel let out a short, panicky squeal before wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling Hermione's arms wrapping around her, she also felt Harry's chest shaking lightly, and she wondered if he was laughing.

"Oh, no — I don't like this — oh, I really don't like this —" Hermione whimpered in her ear.

Buckbeak moved up and down, she felt like she was almost suffocating Harry, but since he wasn't complaining, she kept her arms tightly enclosed around him until they were right next to the castle.

"Whoa!" Harry pulled the rope backward as hard as he could. "He's there!"

Mel reached out for the window and tapped on it. Black looked up, he jumped out of his chair, tried to open the window, but it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione gripped Mel's robes tightly with one hand and pointed her wand at the crystal with the other.

"Alohomora!" A small click, and the window was open.

"How — how — ?" Black was beyond impressed.

"Get on — there's not much time," Harry urged him. "You've got to get out of here — the dementors are coming — Macnair's gone to get them."

In a matter of seconds, there were four people mounting Buckbeak, and she hoped it wasn't too hard on the creature.

"Okay, Buckbeak, up! Up to the tower — come on!" Harry pulled the rope again.

Soon enough they were up in the West Tower, Buckbeak landed swiftly and Harry and Hermione jumped out first, Mel reluctantly left her place since her thigh was starting to hurt again, probably irritated because of all the movement.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick– They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone."

"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" croaked Sirius.

"He's going to be okay. He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick — go —"

"How can I ever thank —"

"GO!" The kids shouted.

Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky.

"We'll see each other again," He said. "You are — truly your father's son too, Harry..."

He kicked lightly Buckbeak's sides and then flew up... higher than ever– until there was no sight of him in the sky.

"Time's no longer on our side," Mel said, making her way to the staircase. "We've got around ten minutes before they ran back into the Hospital wing– Let's go."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@vampiregirl1797  @tiphareth2018 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere  @mikariell95​  @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers  @kylosleftbuttcheek  @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight

[massivedrickhead]

Home: Chapter 2/8

A/N: Thank you to those that reviews. Didn't get a huge response but I know the first couple of chapters are kind of weak so I'm hoping you stick with me on this.

If you can find it in you to leave me a review I'd be forever grateful haha

Read on Fanfic.net

I do not own Pitch Perfect or Harry Potter or any of their characters.

Second Year

"Beca," a voice groaned from the ground beside her.

Beca did not, could not, take her eyes of the Death Eater in front of her. She felt like if she did, he would either attack, or escape.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to attack first.

"Beca," the voice groaned again. "Help."

"So?" Stacie asked, sitting on the bottom of Beca's bed, crossing her legs.

Beca spent most of her time in their dormitory these days. Last year, she spent more time in the common room with the other Slytherins, but ever since this Heir of Slytherin stuff started happening, talk in the common room turned more and more into how muggle-borns didn't belong in Hogwarts, which Beca, of course, didn't agree with. So Beca spent most of her time out the way.

"So what?" Beca asked, looking up from her book. She was reading up on the disarming charm. She hadn't managed to get to grips with the wand movement, and their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was, to put it mildly, an idiot.

"Are you gonna come audition for Flitwick's choir or not?" Stacie asked.

Beca rolled her eyes. "Not," she said, looking back at her book. Stacie took it out of her hands with a huff of annoyance. "Dude!"

"Why not?" Stacie asked.

"Why would I?"

"Because," Stacie held up a finger, "you're good at singing," she held up a second, "you actually like singing," she held up a third, "I don't want to be the only Slytherin there."

"Imagine what my dad would say if I joined a choir," Beca said, shaking her head. "I still haven't told him I tried to try out for the Quidditch team. Not that it mattered."

The Quidditch try-out had been beyond frustrating. She was a good chaser, she knew she was, but captain Marcus Flint took one look at her small, skinny frame and laughed. He wouldn't even watch her fly. The memory of it still caused a flare of anger to rush through her.

"Are you going to spend your whole time at Hogwarts worrying what your dad will say? Here's a thought, just don't tell him," Stacie said.

"That's easy for you to say, your parents are actually nice," Beca said.

"And your dad is an asshole, I know, but still," Stacie said, "he isn't here, is he? You are."

Beca sighed. "I just… I don't know, Stace."

"Chloe will be there," Stacie added, a last ditch attempt to get Beca to agree to come.

Beca flushed red. "Why are you telling me that?"

"Oh, are you trying to tell me you don't want an excuse to see her? Don't insult my intelligence," Stacie said.

Beca didn't bother to argue. "Fine," she said. "I'll come."

"Hurray!" Stacie said, her arms raised in triumph. "This will be fun."

Beca shook her head and picked up her book again. "You're a weirdo."

When she and Stacie had arrived at the audition that Saturday afternoon, everyone already there fell silent at the sight of them and their green and silver ties. They really were the only two Slytherins there.

Beca was on the verge of walking out, but Chloe leapt to her feet, clearly so happy to see her.

"Beca!" She yelled, pulling a startled Beca into a hug. "You came!"

"Uhh," Beca said, looking alarmed. "Yeah. You know Stacie, right?"

"Of course!" Chloe said, hugging her too.

Beca glanced around the room and saw a few people she recognised.

There was Chloe's best friend Aubrey, with the self-named Fat Amy and some other Gryffindors who later introduced themselves as Jesse and Flo.

Emily Junk was there, along with two other Hufflepuffs called Jessica and Ashley, who seemed glued at the hip.

Ravenclaw Benjamin ("Call me Benji," he had said, introducing himself) was also there. The other two Ravenclaws was a third year girl called Cynthia-Rose, and a slightly terrifying girl named Lily, who, when Stacie asked what year she was in, mumbled something none of them could quite hear, but which sounded like "I've been here longer than Dumbledore."

Auditioning for Flitwick's choir turned out to be less of an audition, and more of singing the Hogwarts house song so Flitwick knew where to put you.

Beca was put with the altos and they began to sing. By the end of her first rehearsal, Beca wondered why she'd been nervous and reluctant to join. Singing was probably her second favourite thing to do, after flying, and she liked everyone there. They were nerds, sure, but they were kind of awesome nerds.

Also, due to the way Flitwick had arranged them, she had been stood next to Chloe the entire time, which Beca was definitely not complaining about. Being in close proximity to Chloe made her heart speed up and her face feel hot. It was like standing too close to a fire. Beca was afraid she would get burned.

After a few weeks of rehearsing, the group actually started to sound good together.

She especially liked the way hers and Chloe's voices had blended. As if they were made to harmonise with each other. While they both sounded great on their own, as soon as they came together it was like, well, magic.

Rehearsals were put on hold, however, when a member of their choir was found petrified outside of his common room. It was the slightly dorky but very lovable muggle-born Benji, who had impressed them so often with his muggle magic tricks.

People started to take the heir of Slytherin stuff more seriously. People started travelling in groups, shooting dirty looks at any Slytherin they came across.

After a third student was attacked, a Hufflepuff this time, but no one that Beca knew, the atmosphere in the castle was starting to get tense.

Some Slytherins, the ones Beca always tried to avoid, thought the heir was some hero. Someone trying to "cleanse the school of filth". It made Beca feel sick. On Christmas evening, Beca heard Draco Malfoy talk loudly to a stupider than usual Crabbe and Goyle, about how he wish he knew who the heir was.

One morning Beca was standing just outside the Great Hall, looking at the hour glasses containing the house points. Slytherin were in the lead again, but that didn't mean much. They had actually won last year but due to some, as Stacie put it, Dumbledore bullshit, they'd come second to Gryffindor.

To be fair to Harry Potter and his friends, they had stopped Voldemort from getting some important stone. Beca had to admit that they deserved those few hundred points, even though she'd never admit that to her fellow Slytherins.

The thought that he'd been in the school, had actually been in the same room as Beca, still made her feel cold all over.

She was lost in thought, still looking at the constantly changing hour glasses, when she was shoved aside.

"Hey!" Beca said, annoyed as the books she was holding fell out of her arms. One of the Gryffindors who'd pushed her turned around.

"Sorry!" They said, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't set Slytherin's monster on me!"

Beca rolled her eyes but didn't respond. It wasn't a fun time to be a Slytherin.

When she crouched to pick up her books, her vision was obscured by red hair.

"Ignore them," Chloe said, helping her pick up her books. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Beca said, taking the books from Chloe. "Thanks."

"They're just idiots. I bet they think Harry Potter's involved too," Chloe said.

"I mean when is he not involved in something? He literally flew a car to school this year."

Chloe laughed. "Right?"

"So, uh, I'll see you round," Beca said, turning and walking into the Great Hall.

"Wait!" Chloe said, catching up to her. "I wanted to tell you something."

"What's up?"

"So I had a detention with Snape last week," she said.

"You had detention? What for?"

"Oh, you know my thing where I ask too many questions and don't realise I'm being annoying?"

"Yeah," Beca said.

"Well Snape didn't appreciate me asking over and over what Slytherin's monster could be. I figured of all the teachers he would know, but he didn't," Chloe said. "Anyway, while I was doing my detention, I found out that there's this book that has every single person who ever went to Hogwarts, and what house they were in. It also shows if they'd ever been a prefect, head boy or girl, or a Quidditch captain."

"So?"

"So you can find out some stuff about your Mom, can't you?" Chloe asked, grinning broadly.

Beca felt a stomach flip and her face flush. "I, um, I don't think I'll be able to find her."

"Why? Do you not even know her name?" Chloe asked, shocked.

"I know her first name," Beca said, "but not her surname." Beca was aware that she could stop right there. She didn't need to say anymore, but for some reason she didn't want to hide anything from Chloe. "But even if I did, she wouldn't be in there."

Chloe looked at her, tilting her head slightly. "Let's go take a walk," she said. "We have a bit of time before class."

"Sure," Beca said, wanting to get away from anyone who could overhear.

It was cold outside, and Chloe linked her arm with Beca's as they walked, huddling close to her.

"Your Mom was a muggle," Chloe said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Beca replied.

More silence followed.

"Are you ashamed of that?"

"No!" Beca said, pulling away slightly. "Of course not."

More silence.

"You know who my dad is, right?" Beca asked.

"Of course I do."

"Well… He thinks if it gets out that he had a kid with a muggle, it'll be bad for him. For his reputation. I don't care about his reputation, but I do care about getting through summer break alive," Beca said, sounding bitter. "He made me swear that if anyone asked about her, I'd say she was some witch that I never met."

"I'm sorry Beca," Chloe said. "Did she really die when you were born?"

Beca shrugged. "I think so. That's what he told me, anyway. I think she lived long enough to tell them my dad's name. And my dad came to get me from a foster home when I was a baby. I don't think he actually wanted me, he never loved my Mom or anything, but he said he couldn't have me being raised as a muggle and then coming to Hogwarts with his name."

"That's… That's really sad Beca. I'm sorry," Chloe said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. "He doesn't sound like a good dad."

"He isn't," Beca said. "He's not a good person."

"All those rumours about him… Are they true?"

"Yeah," Beca said. "I hate having his name. I hate the way people look at me when they hear it. I hate that people assume I'm like him."

"Anyone who gets to know you, knows you aren't like him," Chloe said.

"I guess," Beca said with a sigh. "Come on, we'll be late for our first class."

"Thank you for telling me all this."

"Thank you for listening. But, um, please don't share it with anyone else? If he found out…"

"I won't say a word," Chloe said. "I promise."

[nerdtrash-iteration]

(Re)watching Doctor Who: series 7

Alright onto Matt Smith’s final series. I had heard a lot of complaints about this series before diving in but I wanted to keep an open mind about it. Let’s go.

Series 7 (Eleventh Doctor) Part 1 7.X1: The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe I honestly really like this Christmas special. It isn’t one of the better ones but I think it’s charming for what it is. I really like the forest setting and the digger crew, they had loads of personality. I love how protective the mother is of her kids. I really like the pseudo Time Vortex used at the end and the happy ending it brings. Yeah the kids aren’t amazing characters and the plot is a bit all over the place, but I still really liked it. Also the ending scene with the Ponds is really touching. 7.1: Asylum of the Daleks This gave me a bit of tonal whiplash seeing Amy and Rory broken up all of a sudden. And I was dreading another Dalek story. But I really liked it! I love the creepy setting, the interactions between Amy and Rory and this is the first time I’ve been excited about a Dalek story in ages. Loved this first version of Clara. The ending really surprised me and really got me emotional :( Overall a decent start to series 7. 7.2: Dinosaurs on a Spaceship Mixed but mostly positive feelings on this episode. I think the villain and the plot aren’t great and definitely could have done some tidying up. But I do like the goofy tone and the new characters we meet. Especially Rory’s dad, a legend. 7.3: A Town Called Mercy Ugggghhhhhhh. Again there’s that bias against stories set in America. I do like some things about it. Love seeing the Doctor angry and trying to enact moral judgment. Some interesting ethical stuff at play here. This guy is a doctor helping people but he is a war criminal. But I just found it mostly underwhelming. Didn’t care for the cyborg nor the setting. 7.4: The Power of Three Disappointed this wasn’t the 3rd episode in series 7, would have really been good timing. Anyway I’m very fond of this episode. Love Rory’s dad again, love the slow pace allowing the characters to have meaningful interactions. I like that it’s addressed that Amy and Rory really do have the ability to spend weeks away from their “normal” time apparently without missing anything. The ending is pretty weak but I have heard there were production issues around that so I’ll forgive it. This is a bit of a frustrating episode in the context of the next one when you look at the arc of the Ponds, but I do like it on its own. 7.5: The Angels Take Manhattan I remember friends of mine being devastated when this episode aired. So I know this is the last episode the Ponds appear in and I know what’s happens to them in the graveyard at the end. But I was really impressed with the use of time travel in the episode’s plot, especially how the novel predicts what happens. I was annoyed at how inconsistent the Angels were at times. In the scene before Amy and Rory jump, there were plenty of times where no-one was looking at the Statue of Liberty Angel. Why didn’t it take them then??? Also while I love the episode on its own, it is strange in the context of the Ponds’ arc. These last few episodes have had them conflicted on whether they should continue travelling with the Doctor. In the previous episode, they decide they will. And now they’re dead. Just seems a bit jarring with its pacing. But overall I do love this episode. Part 2 7.X2: The Snowmen Damn, do I have mixed feelings on this episode. I think I saw bits of it at the time of airing? Anyway I really don’t care for the Snowmen, the ice nanny nor the Great Intelligence. I only really cared for the Great Intelligence as a character in The Name of the Doctor. Most of the time I found him really boring. Anyway plenty of positive things in this episode. Love Matt Smith’s Victorian garb. Really like this new version of Clara and the use of the Paternoster gang, especially Strax. Also I will always be mesmerised by the scene where Clara ascends the spiral staircase through the clouds up to the TARDIS. The whole double life things she has going is a bit weird, didn’t really get that. 7.6: The Bells of Saint John Yiiiiiiiiiiikes. This single episode made it very clear to me why so many Doctor Who fans hate series 7b. This version of Clara really ain’t it so far, but I think that’s mostly down to this really bizarre script. Clara being someone in her mid 20s who doesn’t know how to connect to WiFi, Jesus Christ. I know it was 2013 but STILL.  Also she makes ONE JOKE about Twitter and the Doctor responds with “Omg you’re a genius now, how can that be”. I hated that. Had anyone in their mid 20s actually glanced at this script? I thought the WiFi plot was ehh. But it was quite chilling to see how it ended. With the villain being reduced to a child state, that was really sad. I also really liked the TARDIS appearing on a plane, with Clara still holding her cup of tea. And the Doctor cycling up the Shard. It’s unfortunate that Clara outsmarting the bad guys is nullified by the fact that her intelligence is not her own here. Anyway a very frustrating start to series 7b. 7.7: The Rings of Akhaten This episode was definitely an improvement to me over the very shaky start. Clara has a bit more to do here, we see some depth with how she feels about her mother’s death. I really like Akhaten as a setting. The monster is alright, not amazing but I’ll take it. I also like some of the interactions the Doctor and Clara have. Overall a decent step forward. 7.8: Cold War Oh no, here we go again. Nothing really glaringly bad about this episode but I just found it really lackluster and boring. I felt Clara went a step backwards here and didn’t have much to do. Setting didn’t really interest me. I did actually like Clara’s interactions with the trapped Ice Warrior. That was cool. 7.9: Hide This! This is a decent one for me in series 7b. I adore the authenticity with the ghost hunters’ costumes and equipment. I really felt like I was watching a 70s horror film. This is one of those rare cases for me where giving a sci-fi explanation to something supernatural makes it more interesting. I thought the pocket dimension was creepy and I loved the future-dweller’s use in the story. Few quibbles being I didn’t think the ghost hunters had quite enough chemistry. Also I found the rules of the episode a bit inconsistent. Apparently it’s near impossible for the TARDIS to survive long in the pocket dimension. And yet it gets in there twice? 7.10: Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS Another episode I have mixed feelings on. FIrstly I adore the setting. I love being reminded that the TARDIS is a truly complex and dangerous beast to be in the belly of, especially when it is being threatened. I liked that the Doctor and Clara have some solid interactions here, with the Doctor venting his frustration at her constant reappearances as different people. I really liked the group’s future selves being used as the villains. I thought the resolution was okay, could have been a bit more interesting. I didn’t super care for the three brothers in this storyline and thought lying to one about being an android really took me out of it. But decent overall. 7.11: The Crimson Horror Ahhhhhh, I really wanted to like this episode. I really like how it starts with the Doctor and Clara being absent for a while and seeing how the mystery unfolds. I like the Paternoster gang and I really think the villain’s plan is interesting. A religious cult foretelling the apocalypse and building a perfect town for select members. And then causing said apocalypse. But when the Doctor and Clara return it all goes to hell. I hated the Doctor kissing Jenny Flint, that was really out of place. As well as the erection joke, just why. I found the villain extremely cartoonish and not in an enjoyable way. She literally says “Die, you freaks!” towards the end. Also Clara really was not it in this episode. I thought the weird parasite thing was pretty cool though, right level of creepy. And I liked the scarred daughter getting her revenge. But overall a very frustrating episode. 7.12: Nightmare in Silver God, this episode annoyed me so much. I really wanted to like it. It had a really good creepy setting. Good way to bring the Cybermen back. I liked some of the side characters, particularly the emperor in hiding. But God, I hated the kids in this story. They just suck. Super annoying. Really didn’t need to be there. Also I wasn’t into the Doctor/Cybercontroller interactions. There wasn’t enough of a distinction for me to take it seriously. It just felt like Matt Smith talking to himself and trying to sound menacing. 7.13: The Name of the Doctor And we’re at the end of this strange series of Doctor Who! I think this is a pretty solid end. I was sick of Trenzalore being referred to and not making sense but I’m glad we got some clarity on it here. I liked the use of the psychic conference call and the Paternoster gang’s involvement. I thought the Whisper Men were decently creepy. Really liked the idea of the TARDIS’ exterior growing. And I was glad that Clara’s multiple lives were finally explained. And I felt it worked pretty well. And it was a lovely tribute to the series as a whole, seeing her with multiple Doctors. My main quibble is that Jenny was revived really quickly after the Whisper Men killed her?? That was quite frustrating. Overall I didn’t hate this series. But I did see why so many were frustrated by it. There are some decent stories in here but there’s also a whole lot of mess as well.

[slverjohn]

So, uh, no idea if you're still taking prompts but if you are, silverflinthamilton as Double-00s/Q, with Silver as Q? (Aka I'm reading one of your Bond/Q fics but ot3 is better)

yyyyEEEEESSSSSSS

*****

Flint is fairly certain he’s being flirted with.

It’s not that he minds, necessarily: flirting is practically a requirement of the gig, right under maiming and killing and blowing up terrorists.

But Flint’s never actually met the new Quartermaster. He doesn’t know how he feels about flirting with the low, tinny voice in his ear, nice as it may sound.

“Come now, Double-oh Five. You’ll have to give her a bit of a smile. Those cheekbones can’t do the heavy lifting all the time.”

Definitely flirting.

Flint lifts his whiskey to his lips, mumbling against the rim. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Ah yes, forgive me. I’m just the tech man, typing on his keyboard from his safe little bunker. What would I know about seducing a bored housewife?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. No wonder Thomas said he’d like the new Q.

Flint had gotten the impression that his husband liked him an awful lot, too, before he’d left. Thomas, a smirk on his handsome face, had called their recently promoted Quartermaster “a little shit.”

“We can compare seduction techniques later,” he mutters, before raising his glass in a toast to the lonely woman across the room. He does smile, but not because Q told him to. Really.

“There you go. Now, when she approaches you - and in that suit? She will approach you - be sure to comment on her beauty mark. She’s dotted it on with eyeliner. Probably idolizes Monroe or some such bullshit,” Q tsks. He sounds awfully young, Flint thinks absently. “Americans.”

“Why should I comment on it?”

“Because she’s gone out of her way to put it there. She wants to be Marilyn? You give her that.”

Flint comments on it, when she makes her way over to his seat at the bar. She blushes and twitters and - well, those are some instincts Q’s got.

Thirty minutes and two cocktails later, Flint’s in her private suite and Q has resumed whispering advice into his ear.

“Her husband is cruel to her, neglectful. Demeans her, calls her fat or old or other untrue things.”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” Flint hisses, glancing back at the loo, where she’d left to powder her nose. “It’s not in the file.”

“Trust me. Just - I know you Double-Ohs are all suave and cool, but perhaps this time go for something more heartfelt. More sweetheart than womanizer.”

So Flint switches tactics, subtly as he can, and of course it works. He doesn’t doubt that his usual stoic-and-stern method would have worked, but it’s a Quartermaster’s job to make things as smooth as possible for his agents.

Things go to shit, as they always seem to do when it comes to Flint. He forgets all about his Quartermaster, until he’s ten goons in and up against some behemoth of a mobster.

“He’s got an old knee injury; look at his stance. Go for his instep then dislocate.”

Flint follows the order without question, and the giant goes down in three hits. Q lets out a celebratory whoop. For Q’s sake, Flint hopes he’s alone in the lab, and that none of his subordinates witnessed that (admittedly cute) lapse in professionalism.

“You know, Q, you should try field work sometime,” Flint pants, leaning against the wall of the alley he’s found himself in. “You’ve got great instincts. Double-oh instincts, even.”

There’s a pregnant silence on the other end. “Wow. I’d heard you were an ass, but - that’s a low blow, Flint. Even for you.”

Flint frowns, confused. It’s against protocols to use names on the comms during an active mission. “Pardon?”

There’s some kind of commotion on the other end, and then Q’s back, his voice more clinical and detached than it’s been the entire operation. “Well, Double-Oh Five, that about wraps up our assignment, don’t you think? The green Audi ten yards down is electric. Muldoon here will get in, then direct you to the rendezvous point.”

“Wait, Q - ”

“If you’ll forgive me, Double-oh Five, it’s two in the morning here in London, and I’ve been on duty fifteen hours. For us, the mission begins long before you walk into your latest party. Debrief at seven a.m., Monday morning.”

He’s gone, and Muldoon’s familiar voice replaces him. Flint spends the entire drive to the airport, and the entire flight following it, wondering what it is he’s done wrong.

When he crawls into bed that night (morning), he buries his face into Thomas’s neck, simply breathing him in. Even the short, two day missions are unbearable, sometimes. “No more overseas ops for at least two months, Thomas. Europe or I quit.”

The head of MI6 blinks his eyes open blearily, then pouts. “But then I’d have to send Billy to America, and he’s an idiot.”

“Not my problem, love,” Flint says, giving Thomas a quick peck then snuggling back down under the duvet.

“How did you like our new Quartermaster?”

It’s Flint’s turn to pout. “I think he hates me, actually.”

Thomas props himself up on his elbows. “What did you do this time?”

He snaps his head up from his pillow, indignant. “Nothing! I just said he should give field work a try. He’s got good instincts for it.”

Thomas furrows his brows. Sleepy and confused is usually one of Flint’s favorite looks on his husband, but right now he’s too annoyed to appreciate it. “Didn’t you read his file?”

The stern look Thomas gives Flint tells him he already knows the answer.

“He was a Double-Oh, until about seven months ago. Stationed in the Moscow. His cover was blown, and he was tortured. Lost about half his left leg. I told him, with physical therapy and the right prosthetic, he could probably be back in the field in a few years, but he refused. Said a ‘one legged creature’ draws too much attention. Bunch of horseshit, of course, but he’s working through quite a bit of trauma, I’d imagine. Besides, he’s a great quartermaster, and - why are you looking at me like that?”

“John Silver? Our new quartermaster is John Silver? Double-oh Nine?”

For the longest time, 009 was the only other double-oh agent Flint hadn’t met. Everyone had heard about the op that went sour, about the madman who’d hacked away at his leg. 009 hadn’t given up his teammates, but at great cost to himself.

“He probably thought you were mocking him.” Thomas says. He gives Flint one more Look, then flops onto his back. “He’s cute, you know. Great hair, pretty eyes…”

Flint knows where this is going. Still, what kind of husband would he be if he didn’t indulge Thomas? “So…”

“So, you’ll head to Q Branch on Monday, debrief, apologize for not doing your homework, and then join me in Operation Fuck-The-Quartermaster.”

****