Apparently it’s MerMay, so here’s Miranda as some half sea serpent . For some reason the very first of those ghosty sequences at the beginning of S3, I thought Miranda dragging herself up on the boat was in some weird fish-tale form (the thud and dripping). I’m loving all the cute and fantastical merfolk for Mermay littering my feeds, but I really love me some cold and slimy, less human and more fish mermaids too.
(you know what i am INTO all this everyone is Flint’s boyfriend thing…….. he needs a lot of boyfriends ok? for the duration of his time as captain flint he needed at least 1 Walrus Crew of boyfriends and did he get that??? No????????????? I am RECTIFYING THIS SHIP BY SHIP)
–
The doctor was one again sat in the Captain’s cabin, needle and thread in hand, stitching a rather nasty looking gash on their captain’s back. To his credit, Captain Flint didn’t flinch when the needle poked him or the thread was tugged. He sat quietly and breathed shallowly to prevent any unnecessary movement.
“If you’d listened to Billy this wouldn’t have happened,” De Groot said from his perch on the desk. “He’s a smart lad, knows his business.”
“He’s a boy,” Flint said with a sigh. His shoulder moved and he hissed as the thread tugged.
Howell tapped his side. “No moving,” he said softly, his concern outweighing his unhappiness. “Don’t want this to hurt you more than it has to.”
Flint breathed again, slow and shallow, and turned his head to look up at Howell with those fathoms deep eyes. “You’ve the touch of a midwife, doctor,” the captain said with a half smile, “I can barely feel a thing.”
Howell felt himself blush and smiled, ducked his head to keep at least a little of his pride. De Groot snorted and came over to put a hand on his back. “You’re doing fine, our illustrious captain here gives you all the practice you need. Right, Flint?”
Flint snorted and reached back, awkwardly and lightly grasping at Howell’s thigh. “Finish quickly and come drink with me. You too, De Groot; I’m in the mood for good company tonight.”
They knew what that meant. The captain was in high spirits; a successful prize taken, a happy crew and a little pain were the right ingredients to make Captain Flint, the scourge of the Bahamas, almost as affectionate as a house cat seeking warmth in the winter. Howell hummed and started working again, finishing the stitches quickly and efficiently even as Flint’s hand stroked his thigh and De Groot’s hand stroked his side.
It was a wonder he hadn’t messed up with the way he was being pawed at. But, as the two men next to him said, he had plenty of practice.
Meg's Mumbles 