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ronmanmob · 1 year

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Creative {{Mute-ant}}

Moods Meme

Ron, see--

Ron struggled with touchy feely things.

He'd had rows with various therapists over the years about it - this discomfort he had about trying unwinding or calming techniques or diversions for his overactive noggin that registered as too soft on his barometer - and had left them with the conclusion that he was just a rough and tumble lad out the East End who'd not been habituated to the pleasures findable in, say, the pages of one of those adult-orientated colouring books, or at a canvass or suchlike. He'd rather be doing -- boxing, hefting things about, walking his dogs and those were grand and fine as well. They'd just learned the spikey way that Ron wasn't an arty human. Too slow, he'd growled. Too touchy-feely, too kumbaya.

So--

The fact he'd gone out to WHSmith's this morning and come back with an armful of the precise sort of colouring books he'd once give or take called toilet paper was A Switch. Same went for the colouring pencils he'd come back with. And the scented gel pens in all sorts of colours. A Switch, to put it gently.

Pat thought he'd lost the plot.

"They ain't f'me" Ronnie'd seethed at his second's raise-browed look of What The Fuck Boss. "They's f'th li'lens." Who weren't little at all really; neither in age nor stature. But that's what he called them to people and Pat, bless his heart-- Pat knew who and what he meant.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon by the time Ron managed to settle himself at the little table in the pub's yard with the books and the arting supplies. It was a warm day, lovely and sunny with it too and that made settling in for a spell and giving this colouring lark a go in view of his li'lens - Girl and Boy who weren't little at all - more palatable than it otherwise would've been. The scents of the flowers in the barrel-planters he kept helped as well, and in no time really Ron had found a page that appealed to him and started to give it a colour. When girl wandered by, fresh off some small chore or other, he called to her--

"--'Ere y'are darlin'-" he said, gesturing for her to come to him. "Look 'ere. I gots fings t'share wiv you 'n 'im." With her and Boy, of course.

tagging: @nolegacies for reasons

#brooklynislandgirl #modern!verse #<- with Mutants!#nolegacies

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tarnishedhalo · 2 years

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ask me meme - He's skimming a book he downloaded while retrieving milk from the fridge for his tea. When the question comes though, he's stalling out somewhere between the ice box and the counter. Internally panicking. Every warning sign triggered by the simple five words 'What are you afraid of?' He shouldn't answer this. Never reveal your weakness. It's survival 101, but the more he thinks about it the more he can't *not* answer and "Being wrong." He'll leave it to Riley to decide about what.

It Came from the Dead Meme Pile || -

Riley stands at the coffee pot pouring himself a cup so that he can function. He doesn't really understand how tea can drag the soul from the death of sleep and maybe that is evident in the way he lifts a brow in Billy's direction. An expression that becomes solidified in the stone of his face when the younger man answers him. Riley takes a gulp from his mug, pauses. He retrieves a flask from his pocket, carefully unscrews the cap, and pours a solid measure into the remaining space of the cup. Once the flask is back in his pocket, Riley carefully swirls the two liquids together and takes another sip.

His lips pull back and he breathes through his clenched teeth, something that sounds like a hiss. All the while he's turning over the answer he gets in his mind, even if it isn't very forthcoming. In fact, it almost sounds like...

"Bullshit."

He glances around the main floor of the apartment. Even without access to their sister's witchcraft, he knows they are the only two people at home. There's layers of warding and alarms that this is the most secure building this side of the Gauntlet. No one will overhear them, no one can spy or winnow out the secrets shared.

His gait is stiff as he moves over to one of the kitchen chairs, and stretches his legs in front of him with a grunt.

"Bein' wrong 'bout what? Throwing your lot in with ours? Something about Dad? Belonging to the family? You kinda need to be more specific, there's a lot of things that we could all be wrong about."

#nolegacies #I'll Cover You||Billy Manderly #Brothers|Manderly and Riley #We All Have Our Secrets||WoD au #Brooklyn Stories|New York

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tabbyrp · 3 years

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@whosxafraid cont from [x]

Rarely inclined to maudlin musings, Tabby does currently deem life and the world to be profoundly unfair. Billy is gone. Lost at sea. He died a free man. The core of the pirate eulogy. Cold comfort to one left behind while her friend – loyal, honest, brave Billy Bones – rots at the bottom of the ocean. The same vast expense which wraps around the island, impossible to escape or curse or bleed revenge from. Each night after Tabby pads her way along a rocky outcrop nestled within the secluded cove, wave-smoothed beneath bare soles, she sits by the water’s edge, salt air sharp on her lips, and simply grieves.

Until that eve, the ocean has never responded to her pain, and none has interrupted her private vigil. In one break of the surface, then one smack of teeth ripping into flesh, Tabby’s solitude is certainly upheaved. Half-to her feet for a better view, she assumes first a scout for a ship, the kind with exceptional strength and breath, choosing stealth over a rowboat for some foolhardy reason. It is the only explanation she can seize upon. A man gone overboard would be flailing from exhaustion. None would be seeking fish among the coral at this hour.

Beneath the moonlight, with eyes adjusted to the darkness as far as they are able, Tabby cannot avoid noticing all the features which refute her appraisal. Nails too long where they grip a hapless meal. Teeth pointed and sharp, framed by skin imbued with a subtle sheen. The pirates are always full of stories about what exists out there, beyond the horizon. Monsters so large they can splinter a ship in half. Fairer sirens with their enticing song. And, of course, merfolk. All of which she has long believed tricks for men to while away long hours atop a mast or beneath deck. Even now, in this suspended heartbeat, she is mostly certain grief has turned to madness. A resolution which falters when the very wet, very real, partly eaten, polypus slaps her dead in the face.

The shock is worse than the physical impact. For Tabby, at least. What emotional response the sea creature has to the situation is unclear, though it appears to have no desire to be scuttled upon the ground, wrapping what limbs remain firmly around her neck and cheek and hair. She tries to suck in air, fails, and panic sets in. Fingers yank at slippery muscle to no avail. The polypus grips on with all its strength and as Tabby straightens, angling for an improved position to try again, the time-and-water worn stone beneath feet betray her. She slips and stumbles, blindly falling forward. Two of the sea creature’s tentacles hit rock, along with a goodly part of her cheek and temple. This time, pain sears through, made worse as Tabby crashes into the water.

Her short-term companion finds the situation greatly improved. It releases its human mast and dives away for freedom, seven limbs powering the escape. Tabby neither sees nor notices, lost beneath a spiralling blackness which drowns out her mind and is about to drown her entirely as the water pulls her deeper.

#whosxafraid #honorable mention #nolegacies #verse: black sails and long lives (AU2)

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coinoperatedbird · 3 years

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Be brave little ριяαтє boy. Be brave. They may ̷͇̿C̷̷͇͇̿̿ ̷̷͇͇̿̿R̷̷͇͇̿̿ ̷̷͇͇̿̿U̷̷͇͇̿̿ ̷̷͇͇̿̿S̷̷͇͇̿̿ ̷͇̿H your mighty armor, And ̸R̸̸ ̸̸E̸̸ ̸̸N̸̸ ̸D your flesh from bone. But be brave my little ριяαтє boy. Be Ɓ Ʀ ƛ Ɣ Є.

#[ promo for one of my many rp blogs ]#nolegacies #[ my edits ]#[ my writing ]#[ product of its 3am and i cant sleep ]#black sails rp #billy bones #billy bones rp #black sails

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perfectmetaphore · 3 years

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Starter for @nolegacies

DUSK HAS FALLEN. In the distance all he can hear is the chattering of men, the laughter, COMPANIONSHIP. Silver doesn’t envy them, not really. He has never been one to seek out friendship, more so acceptance. Importance. To become a resource, beneficial to those around him. STAY ALIVE. If it has to be done out of sheer selfishness, so be it, he has nothing to lose. Idly he sits on a barrel, the small potato peeler in his hand, absently staring at nothing in particular.

There is a shift beside him. Blue eyes moves, snaps out of the absent ray of thoughts, and instead regards the battered man on the straw bed. Brows furrows, but he makes no advances towards him. Words has been shared in secret, words that has put his entire mind to work. Find possible outcomes that will benefit them both, mainly himself, but well-- THE DETAILS ARE HIS OWN FOR NOW. The knife is unkindly stabbed into the wood of the barrel, and he stands, finally.

A pitcher of water, one cup filled and handed over as an offering. There is still a hint of distrust in his eyes, but less so than earlier, now that he is ALMOST CERTAIN, Billy won’t try to choke him at first opportunity. He has not built up his reputation enough to be liked among the majority of the crew to simply die just like that. A soft ‘ it’s not poison ‘ is muttered in the air between them, then a smile, his signature charm turned on. Switched from distrust to masked emotions, JUST LIKE THAT.

Still with the cup hand, he crouches down beside Billy, curls falling into his face which he pushes away with his free hand. If they are to continue their little conversation from earlier, it is for the best that it’s done so in private.

“You look less gray than you did yesternight. Or perhaps it’s the candlelight”

#nolegacies #[ SILVER TONGUED ]#[ BILLY BONES ]#if this doesn't make sense #shout out #i did not rewatch the episode so I am winging it like i usually do in life

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ashenheir · 3 years

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@nolegacies

#nolegacies #ashenlegacies #[ lost but not gone ]#[ societalswords ]#myedits

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diabolicalxlarcenist · 3 years

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@nolegacies

The free man must be born before freedom can be won, and the brotherly man must be born before full brotherhood can be won. It will come into being only if we build it out of our very muscle and bone - by trying to act it out. - Barbara Deming

The carriage wheels echoed through the streets of Nassau as Charles Vane sat on the back of it, shackled and subdued. Only his mind was free at the moment, free to carry out the thoughts in his head as he was driven to meet his final fate. He had once promised that Nassau would be free for as long as he had drawn breath, but on this day, it was about Nassau rising for their freedom in his final breath. This day would find itself coming to terms with revelation, revolution, and retaliation; retaliation against those who would subdue them in Charles Vane’s absence. This revolution in which he found himself the default leader of would come to fruition in his sacrifice to the cause.

He did not fear death, and had come to terms with it long ago that he would someday meet death face to face with open and welcoming arms should it come early or late in his existence. As he rode in the back of the carriage, sapphire orbs scanned the crowd; meeting the gazes of peers he’d had dealings with in all of his years as a feared Captain of the port. There were friends, enemies, former enemies, lovers, all gracing him with their presence in his final moments on this plane of existence. All of them would bear witness to the death of a man who fought tooth and nail for the freedoms they all possessed in this place they called home. All of them would know by the end of this gathering, the man at the end of the rope had died, so that they all could live.

Debris was thrown his way by townsfolk, falling off his shoulders like water falling from a duck’s feathers as they neared the town center in the carriage, and his expression stonewalled them all. He would not show fear, he would not show pain, and he would not give them the pleasure of breaking him when not even slavery could. As the carriage came to a full stop, he not once looked at the men who would string him up; not giving them the pleasure of acknowledgment. Instead, his gaze fell to Eleanor, giving her a knowing look as to how he had come to be in the position he was now in, granting not even her, the true feelings behind that cold, hard stare. And just like that, his gaze moved from her, to the ground, to others in the crowd, to anyone but the woman he knew could and had always broken him down, splintered him like a mast in a storm. That turmoil he was feeling inside of him, that crashing wave of anguish to know that the only woman he had ever loved had betrayed him for her own gain once again coming to pass through his mind, and although he had known that she would turn on him, he could not hold her accountable, only himself for ever loving her to begin with.

As he was read the list of crimes that the crown would be holding him accountable for, Vane’s eyes scanned the crowd once again in his attempt to save face and prove once more to the people of Nassau that he was unafraid. His eyes met those of Billy Bones, recognizing the look plastered on his features as he took into account the idea running through his mind. He had the idea many of them no doubt had in that moment and Vane held his gaze on Billy with narrowed eyed conviction to his cause. There were other men surrounding Billy, no doubt waiting for his signal to help aid Vane in an escape attempt should he wish for it to happen. But there would be no escaping this fate today, not under his command, and as Billy looked at him with the most curious of gazes, Vane soon saw his expression drop knowingly of what he was trying to do, and the general form of sadness overtaking him as he realized that Vane was sealing his own fate for the rise of Nassau.

Charles merely shook his head to Billy, and as the rope was tied around his neck after his final speech to the masses that had gathered, he felt a sense of pride in Nassau, the feeling of unease for him by the crowd, and the sheer tension in the air that could be cut with a knife it was so thickly apparent on all of them. The noose was tightened, hair moved away so as not to interfere with the looped rope around his neck, and for a brief moment of pause, he looked around one last time at the others. When the carriage driver was told to proceed, Charles lifted his head with a sense of pride, unrelenting courage, and a sureness that things would be free once again in the place he called home. As the carriage began to move beneath his feet, he walked one foot in front of the other as he edged nearer to the end of the support beneath his legs. Taking that final step, confirming the future of Nassau, he walked over the edge and dropped as the rope caught his fall, causing him to grunt from the impact, and his feet dangled helplessly, but did not seek refuge on the ground.

The rope tightened, strengthening its hold on his neck as it gripped his larynx tightly, the weight of his form pulling him toward the ground as gravity set in to finish the job. He felt the strain of it, not in his throat, but in his eyes, his temples pounding as the pressure of the rope against skin squeezed, blood coursing through his face as the veins in the sides of his head protruded from the blood pressure rising, being cut off from the rest of his body. All thoughts left him, but his eyes caught glimpses in between not blackness, but white hot light, of Eleanor standing, staring at him in those final moments. Regardless of the betrayal she still looked beautiful to him in that moment, and still held his attention in the way only she had ever been able to. Was that a flicker of fear in her gaze? It didn’t matter anymore, as the darkness started to overtake him, and he felt himself giving in to the damage the rope was doing as it cut off his brain from the rest of his limbs, numbing his lower body slowly, but still maintaining the agony of being unable to draw breath.

What a way to fucking go.

The thought loomed in his mind as blackness finally overtook him, and he fell unconscious. His body continued to jerk and twitch out of shutting down, spasms rippling through his form as his hands and legs shook.

#nolegacies #larcenistxlegacies #[These Bones Don't Break]#[No Slave Again]#charlesvanexbillybones #closedrp

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thomashxmilton · 3 years

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⚠

Send me ⚠ to find my muse at the end of a trail of blood.

---

The chaos that ensued once Spain invaded Nassau, he, along with a few other of Flint’s men were trying to get to the beach when they came under attack. He had fought off the soldier that had attacked him but not before Thomas was cut down the side. Trying to put pressure on the wound, Thomas had propped himself up against a tree, his clothes stained with blood, his free hand gripped the gun he had pulled of the soldier. Hearing a branch snap, Thomas whipped around, holding the gun up as best he could, pale from his blood loss.

He stammered out, “B--Billy?”

@nolegacies

#//idk #//first thing that came to my mind.#nolegacies

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whosxafraid · 4 years

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The Warrior, the Huna and the Turncoat.

@brooklynislandgirl @tarnishedhalo @nolegacies

requested : @tabbyrp via ask

#brooklynislandgirl #tarnishedhalo #nolegacies #[crow edits]#[post via mobile]#Out Of Fecks || OOC #[ crow edits ]

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ronmanmob · 1 year

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The question is excruciatingly dragged out in communication all done in real time with soft signs, little taps, and that inventive sign language of her own making. What helped in putting it all together was Billy's voice coming from across the room, the warm nook he'd ensconced himself in with some of the catalogues left out for them. "She's asking: Would you rather go back to age 5 with everything you know now or know now everything your future self will learn?"

Would you Rather meme

"Th'future" Ron answered easily, minding how his tea leaves were steeping as he enjoyed the company of his favourite not-quite-charges. They'd settled into life neath his eves nicely, or so it seemed. Neither had so much hesitance about them - be that generally or when they'd come to him with queries - and that pleased Ron to no end. They were each what he'd affectionately call 'a li'le charactah', which translated neatly into 'they're my people, I like 'em, don't question their place' to anyone in ol' Lahndan Tahn that asked.

"Me road ain't been th'best paved" he went on, using a wooden honey spoon to ladle a dollop of amber sweetness into his cup. He thought for a moment Girl was paying attention to the movement, to the honey and how it moved and glinted, so he re-dipped the spoon into its jar and offered it to her. His answer went on, un-paused. "So I'd 'ate t'burden me li'le self wiv all wha's t'come. M'grown now, 'n I've walked tha' road. I know 'ow t'navigate it as safe a possible. A roadmap a'ead f'me, now, would be 'elpful. Gettin' one chucked at us back then?"

Ron's dark head shook once.

"It'd ovahwhelm, I fink. Frighten me."

#brooklynislandgirl #modern!verse #<- with Mutants!#nolegacies #//fankoo for sending this in darling <3

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 months

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Advent Day VIII ~ Not Only Green in Summer’s Heat @nolegacies

Beth's putting the final touches together while Billy is in the kitchen, on the phone attending some last minute calls. The fireplace crackles away in beautiful colours putting a particular kind of warmth that one doesn't really get with steam radiators and central heating. To her preference the house stereo system plays soft instrumental carols and she's glad there aren't lyrics to get wrong or distracted by no matter how many Christmases that she's sung along with them. Jay long ago said she'd murder everyone in the place if any of them got played before Thanksgiving, and Billy had agreed with her. She and Baz had both been bitterly opposed to that rule, and Andy finally came down firmly on the side of the other two. Except he said if they used headphones and bothered no one else with it. Considering his Tradition and his hobby, they couldn't mount a good enough defense, though they did end up sulking for an entire autumn over it. The tree is full of light and ornaments from everyone's collection, and it gleams beautifully enough that it blocks out the more garish light pollution from the city. The house is filled with the scent of pine, cedar, spices and baked goods. There's bowls of fresh popcorn ~hurricane and otherwise~ and other things to snack on, including cookies and muffins that Andy had baked only a couple days ago. Her favourite is the rich dark gingerbread loaf that she has nibbled two whole slices from. She's set up the entire nest; sleeping bags that are thick enough to have been considered thin mattresses once upon a time and a menagerie of quilts, throw blankets, afghans ~many of which she knitted by hand~ and pillows of every shape and size. This is their family tradition; everyone who shows up on Christmas Eve gets their own space, and everyone sleeps in the light and shadows cast by the present-surrounded tree. They watch holiday movies or sometimes Andy leads a sing-along or both. After Midnight Mass, they take down stockings ~and there is always one for everyone who happens to be there, without fail~ and are allowed to unwrap the one present inside of them. These are small or inconsequential things, often gifts of socks or pyjamas or little trinkets or stuffed animals. Anything that makes the family cuddle-puddle all that much better, even if the boys typically object to calling it that. It's really Beth's favourite part of the whole holiday. She's never happier than when everyone's together and celebrating love and friendship and fami- Billy's hands clasp around her upper arms, and he sinks down a little to look her in the eyes. "Beth?" She smiles up at him, eyes a glow, his very own little Who from Whoville. "Yeah?" Somewhere, there is a special hell reserved for him. "Just got off the phone with Andy. He and Baz are stuck in DC until the storm passes. He's left their hotel number in case of emergency which is preposterous but…" Her lower lip nearly quivers. Her voice is so small. "Yeah, I guess….'least Jay an-" He shakes his head. "In Chicago with his family and Aunt Jessica, remember?" That does it, that's when the tears stream down her cheeks entirely unbidden and she looks around at all the empty spaces where no one is going to be. "R-right" she sniffles. "Hey, hey…no, snowflake. No. Don't be so sad, after all…you still have me. And I have every intention on following through. Fuzzy socks and all." "But--" He offers her a tender smile and brushes the damp away from her cheeks with his thumbs, his other fingers becoming lost in her hair. "Its their turn. You remember last year, when we went to collect the tree?" If at all possible, she outshines the tree and the fire both in that moment. She rises half way to meet him when he kisses her.

#nolegacies #Cloak and Dagger|Billy Manderly {Riley}#The Ties that Bind|Billy and Beth #We All Have Our Secrets|verse #Latchkey Saints|Mage the Ascension #Brooklyn Stories

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tarnishedhalo · 2 years

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What was your first time like?

Someone Felt Brave || -

The house is quiet. Beth's at work and the kid...well, he's younger isn't he? The youngest of the three of them ~could have been Beth's twin if their dad knew how to keep it in his pants~ has finally come down out of the rafters or wherever he's been hiding recently. He's still skittish around Riley, and maybe that's because Riley reminds him too much of his past, or too much of the man that didn't bother to raise, well, any of them. And the question is direct, straight forward for a change which is unusual. But Riley has a feeling there's something else behind it. Something he's not comfortable trying to pry loose if Billy doesn't want to say it aloud. For now, he'll respect that. He takes a sip off his mug. The coffee is black, bitter, hot. The way he likes it. He lists heavily to one side, elbow pinioned into the arm of the chair and long legs stretched out before him toward the fire in the hearth. Rain lashes the window, the late afternoon-early evening sky only has a sliver of pearl grey from the lowering sun behind cloud cover. He closes his eyes and draws on the memory in perfect clarity. "Truth? Short. Sloppy. Confusing. Not altogether very good. One of the Captain's wives had invited Beth to a birthday party which meant I had a night myself. So a buddy of mine gave me a ticket to go see the Offspring at Aloha Stadium, which is where the Rainbow Warriors play. Won't mean much to you I don't think but its the biggest outdoor venue over there. Anyway, I was about fourteen, so Beth was about 9. Anyway, I'm there and it's cool and soon enough people were passing around beers and bud, and you know...you're stupid when your that age. The girl toking before me kept kissing on my neck, and feeling me up. I was fourteen. I had no real control over what my dick wanted to do which was her. "So we go beneath the bleachers. It should have been a sign that they were playing Pretty Fly for a White Guy. I was feeling her up, trying to kiss her, thinking we were just gonna make out. Well, she had some other ideas, and... needless to say I didn't really know what I was doing, and it was over before the song was. I think we were both too disappointed to really talk about it or maybe too embarrassed. She dragged her panties back up, I tucked myself away into my jeans and before I could say anything, she was wandering off and my phone was ringing. Apparently Beth couldn't handle being over there and wanted to go home. I left after She's Got Issues, and picked your sister up. To this day, I can't really listen to them, you know?" He tries to make it a joke. "Looking back on it all and if I ever got a magical do-over, I think I might have waited. Or at least been sober for it. Funny thing is, I don't think she even told me her name." Riley glances at Billy. "Don't suppose you wanna talk about why you asked, do you?"

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tabbyrp · 3 years

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You hear stories, of monsters in the waters Endless counts of horrific mad slaughters Sailors tells tales of beasts on the sea What they don't tell ya, is that the worst one is me

Spooktober 17/31

#nolegacies #putting the ooooo in spooktober

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deathisachoice · 5 years

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🎶

lyrics meme | accepting