Does Armand every speak Russian to you? Do you ever choose the language speak to people, or do you naturally codeswitch?
“On occasion he will speak to me in Russian. It is usually when he is either cursing or complimenting me. Other than that, I don’t think it is necessarily intentional. I tend to converse in an associated language, though I attempt now to speak in English for the benefit of all around who may not understand the languages that I speak individually. Immortals often know two or three languages, but I have always been particularly good at them. Even as a human, I had an exceptional talent with languages.”
Your relationship with Amadeo is quite special. Have you always felt the need to mentor someone, and to be actually seen as a mentor in return? And a second matter, if I may. How many languages do you speak? What language do you use with Amadeo? When speaking English, what accent do you have?
I had no desire to be a mentor, really. Because I had no designs to enter the human world enough to bring someone to me in order to mentor. And I certainly had no plans to make another vampire and instruct them in the ways of the Blood. You see, I could not conceive of anything but being alone, keeping my secrets, because I had lived in solitude for nearly 1,000 years. I fluctuated between sleep and waking, consoling myself with little moments here and there. Every now and then I met someone who caught my heart or my interest, but it was always brief, and I never really let them get too close. Each association I had to let end prematurely because there was a certain point of knowing me that could never be crossed. Besides, I had and have no place in the tender world of man and woman.
I can speak English, Italian, Latin, Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, Russian, Korean, Japanese...among others. I had a talent for languages even as a man, which served me well as a traveler and collector of stories. I find that when I speak to Armand, I have a habit to lapse into Italian, just as I find myself speaking to Pandora in Classical Latin. But something about each one feels painfully intimate, so I prefer to use the common English language. Besides, it’s easier than language switching with each person I turn to-- not even my memory and mind can keep up with that. I prefer British English as it is what I learned first, so I speak with respect to that.
If you had been able to choose, at what age would you have turned Amadeo?
I had planned to turn him in his early 20s, perhaps around the ages of 23 to 25. I wanted to preserve his youth, so I would not have waited beyond the age of 25.
Met the AMAZING @nickirapp at #SanFranciscoComicCon today. You're amazing Nicki, so glad to have met you...and thank you for all the smiles, past & present. #Psychonauts #LiliZanotto #MorganLeFlay #TalesOfMonkeyIsland #Lilly #TelltaleGames #TheWalkingDead #BrokenAge #DeadEyeCourtney #Firewatch #Lily I think you've cornered the market on every iteration of the name Lily, but I could be mistaken. (at San Francisco Comic Con)
I loved your DP Miranda/Flinthamilton. Could we pretty please with a Miranda on top have more? Maybe something were both Thomas and Miranda work on James? I'd love to see the Hamiltons team up on him. Or more James+Thomas on Miranda would be equally welcome. Thanks!!!
thank you!! :D
and well, if you haven’t read my other ot3 fics yet, you are in luck!
because the hamiltons teaming up on james is exactly what happens in half as happy as we, which is the sequel to these wildfires grow and grow. (these wildfires grow and grow is heavier on the miranda/james and is set before thomas and james get together.)
i hope you enjoy these fics, and i’ll try my best to write more stuff in this vein in the future!! <3
Hi! I absolutely loved your bakery AU! Could you please write more? I need a Silverflint fix these days, and that was absolutely perfect!!!
Anonymous said to scribespirare:If you still want Flint/Silver prompts, how about Silver with a fever? Love your caring Flint so much!!!
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Double fill. Hope this Flint is caring enough! =D
Silver Ink is empty.
Okay, that’s notexactly true. It’s just that Silver himself isn’t there, so it might as well beempty for all that Flint cares. Not that he doesn’t like Max or Muldoon but,well…they’re not Silver so no he doesn’t actually like them.
Flint stands at hiscounter and glares at the shop front, a rag gripped in his hand that he isn’t usingto clean, just holding onto it. Max and Muldoon are the only two that have beenin and out today, when usually Silver is the one to open in the afternoons. It’smaking Flint twitchy as hell, and he doesn’t like it.
Especially since he’dtexted Silver like two hours ago, when Max had first started opening, and hestill hasn’t gotten a response. Which is pretty unusual, Silver replies quicklyeven when he’s working. The moment they’d exchanged numbers (mainly for hook uppurposes) Silver was constantly sending him the stupidest shit; memes, badselfies, his thoughts on particularly bad customers. Flint hates to admit itbut those texts really do brighten his day.
Now though, he’s justgetting radio silence. It’s worrying.
Another hour of pacingthe store, staring sulkily out the window, and trying to distract himself by doingthe dishes, Flint finally gives up. With a huff he unties his apron, shuts offthe oven, and flips the store’s sign to Closed.
“Where is he?”
Max looks up, slightlystartled, from the paper she’s bent over. There’s an incomplete piece of art onit, but Flint doesn’t have time to appreciate the line work, he’s got to makesure Silver isn’t fucking dead or some shit.
Max takes one look athim standing just inside Silver Ink’s front door and rolls her eyes so hard itlooks like it hurts. She mutters something uncomplimentary under her breath,scribbles something down on another piece of paper, and holds it out to him.
“Take this and get outof my shop,” she tells him. Her gaze is already back on her art before Flint iseven out the door again.
There’s an address onthe paper, Silver’s he assumes. Flint pauses outside the store to plug it intohis phone’s GPS and then gets to walking.
Silver, apparently,lives on the second floor of an apartment complex. Flint momentarily glances atthe parking lot, spots a sleek blue and chrome motorcycle, and knowsimmediately it has to be Silver’s. But he doesn’t have the time or theinclination to admire the machine right now.
There are no elevatorsso he takes the stairs, double checks the number Max wrote down, and knocks ondoor 230. When that doesn’t get any kind of response, he pounds his fist againstthe wood more loudly.
A muffled crash comesfrom inside the apartment, a male voice calling out something Flint doesn’tcatch, and then he can hear the sound of shuffling footsteps coming closer. Amoment later Silver opens the door, hair a tangled mess and huge dark bagsunder his eyes. His face is red, eyes watery and a little blood shot, and evenstanding there at the door he starts to sway a little like he’s completelyexhausted and maybe a bit disoriented.
“Flint?” he says,obviously having a hard time focusing on Flint’s face.
“Jesus Christ, are yousick?”
Silver sniffles, noseobviously stuffed up. “Yeah. What are you doing here?”
He’s…well, how does hesay that Silver didn’t respond to his text and also didn’t come to the storeand it scared the crap out of Flint? Answer: he doesn’t tell Silver, because it’sfucking embarrassing. So instead he pushes his way into the apartment andcloses the front door behind him.
“You need to go liedown,” he tells Silver strictly. “Have you taken any medicine, eaten anything?”
Silver stares at himincredulously for a second, but is apparently too tired to try and fight withhim. “I took some this morning, but I haven’t been able to keep any food downtoday so I haven’t bothered trying to eat.”
Flint frowns at thatbut doesn’t comment. “Go lie down. I’ll make you some tea or something.”
“I don’t have any tea,”Silver mutters, sounding petulant and childish, but he does shuffle off toanother room so Flint doesn’t bother responding.
He takes a look aroundand finds the apartment is smaller than he was expecting. He’s standing in atiny front hall, the only thing in it being a little table by the door withkeys and mails on the top and what looks like a jacket tossed carelesslyunderneath. There’s a doorway to the left, where Silver went, and one to theright. A peek into the one on the right shows it to be a bedroom.
Flint follows Silverto left into a little kitchen/living room combo that’s cramped and messy butstill looks relatively comfortable. The man in question is sprawled across anold beige couch, one arm thrown over his face and his feet up on the arm. The TVis off but the coffee table is littered with old dishes, tissues boxes, usedtissues (fucking gross), and several books, so obviously Silver has beencamping out in here.
There’s a comfortercrumpled on the floor, so Flint picks it up and more or less drapes it overSilver’s prone form. Silver cracks open one eye to squint curiously at him butdoesn’t comment.
Next Flint heads intothe kitchen and rummages around in the pantries. There’s not a lot of freshingredients and a disturbing number of TV dinners, but there’s enough thatFlint can whip up a light broth that shouldn’t bother Silver’s sensitivestomach.
He also manages to digup some Ibuprofen and Nyquil, which he counts as a win. Filling up a glass ofwater, he has Silver take two of the Ibuprofen, and Silver stares at him theentire time.
“What are you doing?”he asks after handing the water back to Flint.
“What the fuck does itlook like I’m doing?”
Silver’s eyes narrowlike it’s a trick question. “Taking…care…of me?” he tries.
“Obviously,” Flinthuffs, just barely restraining from rolling his eyes. He goes back to thekitchen to get started on the broth, and for a long time he can feel that bluegaze following him from counter to counter. Eventually though, he turns aroundto find Silver passed out, mouth open wide since he can’t breathe through hisnose. It’s kind of gross, there’s drool on his chin and on the pillow he’susing, and he’s making these odd snuffling noises like his body keeps trying tobreathe through his nose before it realizes it can’t. Rather than beingdisgusted though, Flint is just fondly amused. He shakes his head and goes backto cooking.
Silver wakes up aboutan hour later, and stumbles his way into the kitchen with the comforter drapedover his shoulders and dragging on the tiles. He props his chin on Flint’sshoulder from behind, looking over him at the broth bubbling happily on thestove. It doesn’t really take an hour to cook, but Flint had taken his time soit’s still heating.
“That smells reallygood,” Silver mumbles, then snorts to himself, “is what I would say if I couldfucking smell. Honestly though, you’re cooking for me?”
Flint side eyes Silveras best he can when the man is propped up against his back. “ No, I justdecided to come over to your apartment to use your stove. I’m taking everythinghome with me. Of course it’s for you, idiot.”
“You remember the partwhere I can’t keep anything down, right?” Silver’s breath is hot where it hitsFlint’s neck, and he has to hold back a shiver.
“Yes, I remember,” hesnaps, rolling his shoulders to dislodge the other man. “It’s just broth,barely seasoned. If your stomach can’t handle this then I can’t help you.”
Silver laughs frombehind him, the sound thick and distorted because of his congestion. “Well aren’tyou just so sweet,” he says, and swoops in to kiss Flint’s cheek before Flintcan do anything to stop him. He’s gone so fast Flint can’t respond, his voicedrifting towards the living room as he calls out, “Come cuddle with me on thecouch when you’re done!”
Flint blinks stupidlydown at the stove and spoon in his head before he pulls himself together again.“Yeah fucking right!” he calls back. “I’m not catching your cold, forget it.”
A silverflint prompt Flint ties Silver's hair every morning. Also, he helps him practice walking. In their cabin, in private.
Morganleflay: Flint ties Silver’s hair and kisses his neck as he does it.
Hey! I’m combining both the asks you sent me. Thanks for the prompt, btw!
Note: This apparently takes place in some AU where they’re (mainly Flint) not as fucked up.
I hope you were expecting fluff!
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It happened the second week after Silver had permanently relocated his living quarters to Flint’s cabin. He was standing by the bay window, admiring the late evening sunlight dancing off the waves, when he felt Flint’s hands run through his hair.
Silver closed his eyes and sighed and leaned into Flint body. He subsequently felt his hair being pulled gently into Flint’s hands and then heard a quick snap and felt Flint adjusting a hair tie.
“Hey!” Silver objected, his hand flying back to grasp his hair, his hair now very obviously tied in a ponytail.
Silver turned to Flint, on his face an expression of mock betrayal.
“What is this for?” Silver asked, his hand going to his heart, feigning hurt.
“Sorry,” Flint chuckled, “It’s been bothering me for some time.” He couldn’t quite contain his glee, a smile lay on his lips.
Silver huffed then replied, “I thought you liked my hair?”
“I do,” Flint moves closer, “But now I can do this with ease.”
Silver gasps as Flint’s lips met his neck, Flint’s hands going to Silver’s waist, bringing them together. Silver’s own hands grasping at Flint’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Flint moves back just enough, and cups Silver’s jaw with his left hand.
Flint guides Silver back a few steps until his back meets the wall, their lips meet.
And just as they do, a knock sounds on the door.
They each pull away with a groan.
“Ah, yes, my appointment.” Silver grumbles.
Flint can’t help but huff at the indignant look on his lover’s face.
Flint lets his hands run down Silver’s sides before pulling himself away and seating himself in his chair.
“Come in,” Silver yells as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way to the chair opposite his captain.
Doctor Howell enters and greets Silver with the sight of his new “leg contraption,” as Silver has taken to calling it.
“And you’re sure this one will work better?” Silver asks.
“Positively.” The doctor replies, his voice, while not commanding, left no room for Silver to object.
It was a relatively short visit with Howell just staying long enough to teach Silver how to strap his new leg on comfortably, and - of course - berating him again for not staying off his leg long enough.
As soon as the doctor was gone Flint placed his pen down and looked at Silver’s down cast expression. He cleared his throat as he stood.
“Do you know how to dance, John?”
“Wait, what?” Silver’s bafflement made Flint smile.
“Dancing. Do you know how?”
“Um, well, yes, I suppose, in theory.” He replied warily.
“Well, then.” Flint said as he made his way over to Silver. He stood close to Silver and held out a hand.
“I am not dancing the Allemande with you, James.” Silver rebuked. Silver may have done many questionable things in his life - falling in love with a pirate captain for one - but ballroom dancing is something he vowed never to do.
“I had something more… intimate in mind.”
“Well,” Silver pondered, “I’m always up for some debauchery.”
Silver smiled and took Flint’s hand while trying to move past his confusion. He wavered on his legs, the new build making him unbalanced, but Flint put his hand on Silver’s waist, taking some of his weight and helping him balance. Silver blushed.
They moved to the middle of the room, Flint brought up Silver’s left hand and laid it on his shoulder then moved his own right hand to Silver’s lower back and pulled Silver against himself, then in his left hand he grasped Silver’s right, their hands dangling by their hips.
Silver looked at Flint , “What are we doing?”
“I thought you’d like it.” Flint replied.
“Well, I’m not objecting, but what do you call this?” He inquired honestly.
“I have no idea,” he laughed, his smile brightening his face and sending waves of warmth through Silver.
“Well, are we going to stand here or…”
Flint huffed, “I’ll take two steps forward, you’ll take two back, we’ll take one to the side, and you’ll take two steps forward, and I’ll be taking them back, repeat.”
“Well, okay,” Silver laughed.
They both faltered and stumbled more than they’d like to admit, but they ended up dancing - “James, you cannot call this dancing, this is lazily walking in squares.” “It’s dancing, John.” - far past midnight, taking precious time to press tender kisses onto each other’s lips.
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Okay, phew, so that took a while. Couple things, if you didn’t already catch it, Silver and Flint pretty much danced a basic foxtrot, which, if I am correct, didn’t come into play until the 20th century, oh, and the reason Silver called it “debauchery” is because the waltz (which is way more complicated than what I wrote them doing) was kind of the first of its kind (I believe) and was introduced to England in the 1800s and was denounced by the church because it was too vulgar (because men and women would be [gasp] touching). I do know there were “gliding” dances in some parts of Europe in the 1600s, but I don’t know if Flint and Silver (or any modern 18th century Englishman/pirate) would know that.
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Send Me Silverflint Headcanons (Sometimes I Write)
Just wanted to tell you your Black Sails fanfiction "Any port in a storm" is fucking perfect and I'd love to see more of that stuff. Good work!
Awwwwww, you guuuuys. Y’all spoil me. You’ll definitely be getting more SilverFlint. Soon. Very soon, if writing plans go according to plan. Gotta get that Modern AU written ;)
