Send 💀 to walk in on my muse killing someone.

He wishes he could say it was necessary; that there was no other way to ensure the dead man on the ground told no-one that he’d recognised Long John Silver; that he had no choice. But there’s always a choice. Silver knows this. There’s always a third option.

Silver has hated violence his whole life. He abhorred Flint for this kind of behaviour, once; senseless, cold murder, when there were so clearly other options available. He abhors himself for it now. 

He abhords himself even more when he realises that Thomas has seen everything. Thomas, who already hates him; who no doubt recognises him as a corrupting influence, one that rots everything it touches; Thomas, who Silver sincerely doubts has ever raised a hand with deadly intent in his life.

Silver’s expression remains utterly calm as he tucks his gun away again, readjusting his grip on his crutch. If this were another time and place he’d have Flint to help him hide the body. Now, he doesn’t, and there’s no chance of him moving it alone.

“It would be best,” says Silver coolly, “if you pretended you never saw him. He’s unlikely to be missed by anyone, but you never know. Please don’t follow me.” 

He could explain himself, but it would do him no fucking good, and he knows it. The closest he can get to redeeming himself for any of this is to just fucking leave.

The world is shrinking: the world is curling up and rotting before his eyes, like dry, dead leaves in the gutter. James stands there, mute with rage and terror, body tense as a corpse, feeling his universe crack at the seams.

His eyes are on the earl’s men. Too many of them to dispatch safely- but unsafely, he might manage. If he rushes at them, if he takes them by surprise, it would give Thomas time to run, to grab Miranda, and James would likely be dead or worse but Thomas--

Thomas must read his intentions; he says James’ name sharply enough to make the lieutenant’s gaze snap to him, wide-eyed. James’ heart hurts- he wants to speak, to say I love you, I’ll get you out of there, but his rage and grief are so deep and overwhelming that all he can choke out is, “Thomas--” and then they’re starting to pull him away and James can’t move. Not with Thomas’ shaky smile, his eyes on him, saying without words, I know what you’re thinking- do not. 

So James doesn’t move, held fast by his loyalty to the man, staring wide-eyed and horrified as Thomas is taken from him.

Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty. || accepting

steve squirms uncomfortably. it’s not something he really talks about or even really tries to think about. he knows that it’s not necessarily a thing people just accept and it’s even stranger because shouldn’t he just know? are people even allowed to like both? all steve knows is that he’s had the same feelings for that guy luke who was a grade above them that he had for maureen. with almost the same intensity. and it confuses him. but this person is forcing the truth and he can’t….he can’t lie…

One thing you and James have in common is how bad you are at acknowledging your feelings

@thomashamiltcn

❝No, you have not told me that.❞ he laughs as he says that and kisses James collarbone before sitting up. It takes him a moment to stop laughing and when he speaks, he is still grinning. ❝Is that how pirates are really like? They look for anything that has the colour of gold?❞

James reaches out for Thomas hand as the other sits up, as if subconsciously attempting to make certain that this particular gesture does not mean getting up from bed fully. It is, after all, entirely too early for that. Once he makes certain that Thomas is, in fact, staying, he loosens his grip to a gentle hold, and then a caress.

Ambient silence was very different when snow ate sound. As she blinked at the clear sky, fingers prying themselves from the snow, it was the silence that most occupied her in the moments before it was pain and abject horror instead.

The unflagging pain in her ribs didn't hold much value against the reality of the plane crash that returned in bits and pieces. Miranda coughed twice as she dragged herself up, looking at the trashed fuselage in the snow with building panic.

          ❛  I’ve been thinking. . .  ——  about things. I’m not sure if it’s the right decision, I suppose I will have to wait and see, but. . .   there’s something you should know.  ❜

❝Aren’t a bit too you worried, my dear?❞ Thomas smiled widely and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead  ❝There will be protests from both sides, that is the most likely immediate outcome, in the long run however…I believe we can achieve great things. Less violence, improved quality of life. A better use of the New World, don’t you think? ❞