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@johnsilvxr-blog
Alright, so I’m not dead. I’ve taken impromptu hiatus on most of my blogs due to illness, computer issues, and a myriad of other real life fun things. I also have five blogs to catch up with :s So yeah, I’m sorry!!
If you’ve written something for me or messaged me and I haven’t seen it yet; please tell me so I know!! I don’t trust tumblr when it comes to that stuff.
wehavenokingshere
It’s been approximately 70 years since their last meeting; rather unfortunate that last one had been. It wasn’t his fault; there was a war and it wasn’t anything he could see saving himself from. After the crew had fallen apart, all he’d wanted was his tavern and his wife, until she too had passed on and he’d been left alone with nothing but rum and a rather mouthy parrot that sometimes when he got drunk enough, he could actually pretend was Flint.
Still, it had become both habit and tradition to track down one exasperated Billy Bones, whom was still hellbent on evading him. The hell was up with that anyway; it’s been 300 years Billy, let it go.
As he washes up on shore, flowerprint Hawaiian shorts and diving goggles, he can’t believe Billy still lives here. Dead bodies and cursed gold; Silver thinks he’s taking this treasure guarding just a bit too seriously. But then, Billy’s always erred more on the side of macabre so he really shouldn’t be surprised.
That is, until he spots the luxurious, modern looking home right on the edge of the shore and Silver’s jaw drops; though he isn’t sure if it’s more because Billy openly defied Flint’s orders or because of the ingeniousness of putting the money into something people can’t really steal. Decidedly he’s enraged; that treasure had been his every bit as much as it had been Flint’s and Billy took it. That house should be his. Billy will be less-than-pleased to discover he’s getting a roommate, but this has torn it.
“BILLY.”
“Shoot this one.” “He’ll get to the pistol.”
( ✗ no you’re right we should be trying to get you laid so you’ll stop yelling at me )
There’s a small grunt at Silver’s jabbing elbow, but he does not give, in the slightest. He’s too solid for that, even if his ribs were still a bit sore thanks to the English king’s navy. But his jaw grinds, and flexes. Silver has no idea what he’s suffered. Doesn’t know what this crew saved him from. Silver hadn’t been there the night he had used Dufresne to weed out a few bad eggs. Hadn’t been there when he’d given all that could hear a glimpse of what had really happened to him.
“So what…I should simply skip through life like you? Dance about, and pray I land on my feet?”
“My problems are not chains, they are realities. And ones I will deal with my own way. If you don’t fuckin’ mind.”
Billy’s head is rock hard, missing the point of what he's saying completely. He doesn’t doubt what Billy’s suffered, or what any other man on this crew has. Silver shuts his eyes, a sigh masking the internal groan. He should have just left when he had the chance, but too late now. Now he cares. Fucking Flint.
“I think you misunderstand me. I am not making a mockery of you, nor do I mean that your problems are inconsequential. I am simply saying, that life might be a little easier to take if you tried to find the good once in awhile.”
He allows the contact for no more than a second, a hand coming up to push the quartermaster away. Well out of his space. His hand retracting from Silver the moment the other was far enough away.
“There is a gross difference between negativity and fuckin’ reality .”
Using a crutch to keep from falling, he uses the momentum to crash back into Billy, elbowing the bo’sun hard.
“And therein lies your problem, brother. Your attitude about your problems. Perhaps if you looked at them as obstacles to overcome instead of chains around your feet, maybe you would feel different. If I let everything that happened to me get to me I’d have been dead long ago.”
“……..”
“…no I suppose not.”
Sitting himself beside the bo’sun, he sighs despondently, placing crutches well out of reach of Billy’s grasp. He’s sure he will never feel a pain worse than losing his leg ever again, but he’s fairly certain the bo’sun is more creative than that. Perhaps against better judgement, Silver leans against him, offering what could be construed as half a hug. Sort of.
“See this is exactly what I’m talking about. You always do this. As your superior I will not have your negative vibes on my ship!”
( HEY you promised not to tell anyone about our drunken Frozen karaoke night! )
“Not likely.”
“Wasn’t he also put to death, on suspicions of conspiracy to overthrow? Lost his head for it if I remember correctly….”
“Now see, WHY do you always have to take it there? You always take it somewhere dark! Why don’t you pet a cat or watch a sunset?”
“You didn’t get enough hugs as a child did you?”
flinthearted:
His nails scrape the man’s dark scalp as Flint swallows Silver’s mewling whimper of a moan; all these grand ideas of power, yet he will still allow Flint to undo him. How long has he been chasing this eventuality? —— Since Thomas’ return? Or perhaps since before even then?
Fingers dig into his leather coat, pinning him beneath, but his own hands are still free, and Silver relies on Flint’s weight to even support himself. Tugging hard on the loose strap of Silver’s belt, enough to dislodge the single knee on which the man’s weight balances, he rips the front of Silver’s jacket and shirt open with the other, gasping the same air.
❝ —— He is not some prize to be won. ❞
Silver laughs against snarling lips, tugging at the bottom one with his teeth, echoing his captain’s actions by tugging the leather jacket - that belongs to him for now - and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. The belt came next, all manner of dangerous weaponry safely out of Flint’s reach, nimble thief’s fingers strategically placed while silver tongue continued its work elsewhere. His good knee buckled from underneath him, sending him spiraling into Flint’s rough embrace. It won’t take the captain long to gain the upper hand, so Silver plays his emotional trump card; his ace of spades, forever marking Lord Thomas Hamilton as Flint’s black spot. As the old saying goes; not all treasure is silver and gold.
He notices the blond peering through the crack in the wooden doors, and smirks devilishly. Thomas Hamilton’s face remains stoic, but years of practice and Silver can see he is reeling behind those bright blue eyes. Was it really that simple to divide them? Ever the greedy opportunist, he decides he’s hungry for both of them.
“And that attitude... is precisely why you will always lose everything,” he murmurs, nearly victoriously as he nods towards the door.
YOU GUYS [I'm not reblogging because I'm polite and know how to read, but you and johnsilvxr's interactions are delighting me to no end rn, and I thought I should let you know. This has been my admiration from afar.]
[[Oh you are magnificent and i love you. Thank you for this, and I know I am very happy that you’re having such a good time with their interactions.]]
[[one of my favorite blogs here people. And I dont say that about very many personal blogs, jsyk]]
johnsilvxr - [[tagging you love because obvious]]
( AAAAAHHH THANK YOU <33 I’M SO GLAD WE ARE ENTERTAINING YOU!! *o* )
( all is forgiven just give me back the map )
“So what’s that make you?”
“John the one-legged-baptist?”
“Wait.. so that technically makes me a prophet.”
“...Nice. You can bow to me anytime.”
His back hits the new surface hard, thrown by the momentum of the sudden flip, with Silver’s hips crushed hard against his. He has been expecting some table-turn, some hidden catch —— Because this being Silver’s sole intention is somewhat difficult to process —— But nothing more than a sharp one- liner that’s been brewing beneath the surface comes his way.
Growling, Flint does little to respond but capture the other man’s lips in a second kiss, hard and demanding, his un- shaved jawline leaving soft, possessive scratches on Silver’s cheeks. One hand fists his hair, long, dark curls so foreign to anything he is used to, demanding something different. He is angry, boiling over, and needs that release.
❝ —— I’m not your friend. ❞
He moans ever so slightly, shivers of desire shooting through him at the feeling of rough ginger locks tormenting his skin. Flint is a mighty wall for now, but by the time Silver is done with him, he will be in ruins. It wasn’t often Silver let his walls down, and now he understood why - he doesn’t take kindly to rejection.
“Maybe not. But you’re mine.”
Pushing him down, hands gripping leatherclad shoulders roughly, he smiles against Flint’s lips, biting and nipping and daring. But how could he have ever dreamt of leaving this?
“Your crew is mine, your ship is mine. It’s only a matter of time before your Captaincy is as well. Then your gold, and at last when there’s nothing left? I’ll take your most precious treasure as well, that pretty lord of yours.”
( you only think that because you sucked at it )
“Says the one—-”
“that believed Vane’s men were going to allow us sail off into the sun set. And rest us back on Nassau’s beach out the kindness of their hearts.”
“In my defense, they told me he was Jesus with abs.”
The innuendo is not lost on Flint, and neither can he honestly say it’s entirely unexpected, not after the brutally obvious hints Silver has been in favour of dropping, but surprises him nonetheless. He could throw him off with one slick move, dump his one-legged body onto the deck unceremoniously and escape. But now, even with Thomas’ name lingering still on his tongue he still does not want to pull back from the crushing embrace, responding in kind rough and relentless, establishing his position.
This power struggle between them has always been bubbling beneath the surface, just waiting for the day when it would boil over. When he’d said ‘we might be friends one day,’ it had been both promise and threat. He’d come for the gold, stayed for such an amusing second prize.
Now he was Flint’s second in command, beloved by the entire crew - save one waterlogged bo’sun - there was no way to be rid of him. All he’d needed was to find the weakness; who knew, Captain Flint’s downfall was a pretty blue-blooded face. It was all so sickeningly fairytale. He still wasn’t jealous.
Using the other man for balance, Silver promptly knocked a leg out from under Flint, sending them both spiraling to the window seat and reversing positions of dominance.
“Told you we’d be friends,” he smirked, lust with a hint of smug.
( that one hurt :( )
“There are times I truly wonder how long it might take you to drown.”
“That’s rich, coming from the guy who fell off the boat.”
( whatever I outrank you now what )
“We’ve been through this…..”
“My taste is in flowers, not sticks.”
“You’re just angry with me because I’m the new favorite.”
