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mamamittens · 3 months

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I was thinking again for the seemingly-hopefully-not-too-distant time I clear out a least a few of my ongoing fics enough to justify officially writing my self indulgent shelf shippy fic with like, a real character arc for Nikia.

So like, scroll on to ignore my should-be-sleeping rambling lol

I was tinkering with how encompassing Nikia's haki would be. Taking my own liberties with how it works since most of it is handwaved. Off topic, I would like it to be visible, at least for strong showing of it cause I feel like Anime Bullshit gets harder to swallow when the crazy effects are meant to be invisible and more... Metaphorical. Like Demon Slayer. They gotta look batshit if they're not actually flinging fire and elemental attacks all over the place.

So, obviously, her best haki would be observation as a more... Passive, ability. Intended more like a sixth sense for her surroundings and unique ability to find things/people with ease and without a lot of training. Over time she's able to make mental maps and locate people along with their general vibe/mood. It gets to the point that she sort of knows when things are going to happen. Rarely taken by surprise by a phonecall or visitor.

This leads up to a day where she's plagued by this dreadful feeling with no source. Feeling like she needs to call Thatch but not knowing why and too scared to bother him for nothing. Until she wakes up that night in cold sweat, staring at Sheldon (her snail lol) like she's expecting a call but... Knowing she won't be getting one. Her paranoia growing with every day until she gets the news of his 'death'.

Her other skill with observation is cloaking her presence. She's always just really blended into a crowd despite her wings and when flying? Damn near impossible to spot her. Even without her gun flinging her wildly around.

Armament is a skill she learns through being battered by the rough winds. Clouds fucking hurt to fly through, even with proper coverage. And blizzards are a bitch and a half. So even without any serious combat experience like most Marines/pirates, she's got pretty good armament. Particularly on her wings, which helps buffer them from sudden wind changes and weather phenomenon like hail (ouch). I like her 'color' being teal highlights on the usual black. Seems fitting. She also shoots with armament to help stabilize shots over long distances and to save her seastone bullets for real emergencies. They are expensive after all. And armament works just as well for weaker prey.

I was also revisiting what kind of character arc she'd have, going from shy and reserved to competent mountain ranger but aloof. Originally I wanted the grand reunion to be a quiet, intimate affair because I'm not a fan of big, showy, 'weep and wail in front of everyone for a solid five minutes' kind of thing. Just seems awkward. But it would be a lovely emotional climax for someone that's spent so long compartmentalizing their feelings to keep things from getting awkward or inconvenient to just fall apart like that. Maybe not wailing, but running across the deck without realizing she's even moved, hasn't breathed since she spotted him.

Thatch, utterly shocked at this warm reception, being enveloped by familiar fluffy wings as she embraces him. Crying and struggling to cling without squeezing his bandaged chest. For a moment, it's just them. As she's crying and he's apologizing for not calling. The crew shocked as Whitebeard looks proud to have pulled this together so well. It takes a bit to pull herself together, even longer to stop burying her face in his chest, but eventually she calms down enough to pull away. Sheepish but exhausted from crying and the past few months.

There's a party, naturally, with Thatch forbidden from doing anything strenuous or drinking more than a couple of mugs of beer. Resting next to Whitebeard who's on a similar bed rest. The two curled up in each other's arms as they eventually drift to sleep. Whitebeard dozing off next to them protectively. Glaring when someone goes to wake them. Or when Nikia's dad looks too pouty and like he's about to make her go to bed (Thatch can sleep on deck for making his baby cry, thanks).

It's all very soft and sweet in my head, but that may just be because I'm tired and I always fantasize about cuddling and sleeping when I'm tired lol

#mittens rambles #one piece oc #nikia op oc #back on my bullshit

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duckduckduckorgoose · 5 years

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October 25: Safety/Promise

"You're safe now," the man proclaimed. Ace didn't believe him in the least. Where was he even? Some run-down cellar in the middle of town? That's what it seemed like.

There was this layer of dust on the ground where he sat, telling him that this wasn't a place were people went. No lights but the one lamp in the ceiling. The only source of sound was the incredibly loud sirens from the outside.

And over him stood a man with the worst haircut he'd ever seen. It was worse than the shit Luffy pulled last summer to annoy their grandpa.

"What have you done to me?" Ace wouldn't admit it, but he could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He felt so vulnerable without his fire. His form was broken, the strength and confidence that normally would radiate off of him was gone, now he was but a boy in a dark corner.

This was supposed to be the infamous Fire Fist, but Marco honestly couldn't see the resemblance between him and the person before him. Crawled up as close to the wall as possible and with distress all over his face, he couldn't be the vigilante that Fossa had brought in.

"It's seastone, you won't be able to use any of your powers with it in your system," Marco explained.

The boy on the floor ran a hand through his thick, black locks and tensed up. It always hurt seeing the effect that seastone had on people. Marco had experienced it himself several times, he'd had to throw up twice the first time. The boy was taking it rather well, physically at least.

"Why would you do that... I kept away from every known territory..." The ramblings continued until he finally looked up at Marco, so painfully desperate.

"We didn't do anything to you. The marines did. All we've done is stabilise the wound."

Ace had calmed down after what felt like weeks of being awake, walking around and ignoring the food being delivered to him.

The reality of the situation had caught up to him now. He was a prisoner.

The man came back to him with another plate of food. As he entered you could hear the immediate with from when he saw what had become of all the previous dishes.

"You have to eat."

"It's poisoned."

"It's not. Thatch wouldn't let anything harmful go near his food. See how thin you've grown? That's because you haven't eaten for days."

"I don't trust you."

The man was getting frustrated at this point. Served him right. Always so damn chatty, as if Ace was dumb enough to listen to him.

"I'll eat when I get my powers back."

"You're truly an idiot, you know that? Fire Fist Ace, was it? We found you bleeding on the sidewalk - it was pure luck that we came before the marines puck shackles on you. Can't you just believe us?"

"I will, when you get me my powers back. And how do you know my name?"

The man sighed again. Partly in defeat, partly in sorrow.

"It's not that easy, it requires a surgery to remove all of the bullet parts. You have many scattered in your body, most close to the heart."

Ace was empty of words. He couldn't trust these people to operate that close to his heart, could he? Were they qualified for the job?

"What's yours?"

His captor was confused at the question.

"What?"

"You know my name, what's yours?"

"Marco."

"We're going away for a couple of weeks - there's a mission. Izou, the guy that Thatch won't stop talking about, will bring you food."

Ace frowned at him. "So?" His tone was harsh and his body language was reserved, just like always.

They had discussed over and over the possibilities of a surgery to get his powers back. Marco spoke of it like it was going to happen but Ace just couldn't imagine giving up his will that easily. He'd been distant ever since.

"Well, we wondered if you might prefer going with us, perhaps build some trust?"

Ace was almost going to accept, say that it would be great. Not because he saw the chance to escape and not because he thought it'd be a fun thing. It was pure impulse.

But he had better control over himself that to let go of his principles that easy.

"No! Gods, no! Why would I? Do think this is some Stockholm Syndrome situation? I'm not doing anything with you."

The slight hurt in Marco's eyes was obvious even to Ace. For a second he wondered if he did the right thing but then he remembered the facts - he was their prisoner, it was downright stupid to go with them. You don't fraternize with the enemy.

There were gunshots in the distance when Marco heard the announcement. They were to evacuate the base. His first thought should have been the safety of his family and those working with him, yet he couldn't help but immediately worry about Ace.

No one except for Thatch, Izou and he knew about him. No one would be coming for him. The marines would find him and execute him like they did the rest of his kind.

Marco knew that it was absurd how he rushed down the stairs to the garage to prep his motorcycle in a time like this, but there was no option for him.

The usually sceptical and furious eyes were full of concern when Marco burst the doors to the cellar open. Ace had obviously heard the shots.

"What's going on out there? Why could I hear screams?"

Marco swallowed. He'd heard that too? That would mean that one side or the other was hurt. He could only hope for the right one to be the ones.

"They've found us out, we have to get moving, it's not safe for you here." He really hoped that the honesty and the desperation came through. If Ace didn't believe him now, he didn't know what he'd do.

"How?"

"I've got wheels."

Ace saw sunlight for the first time in two weeks. It was not as bright as he remembered.

His wonder was cut short, though, as Marco dragged him onto the motorcycle that stood parked right outside of the building where he'd been kept. Helmet and everything was forgotten as soon as the sound of Marine commandos echoed in the area.

They passed bodies and bodies as they fled the area. Shouts and shots, screams and shattered dreams, they filled the area. Marco was close to freezing up every time they passed a body that wasn't a marine. Near invisible tears flooded his cheeks after only a couple of minutes.

Men and women of various ages, lifeless on the pavement. The faint smell of a house fire. That continuous replay of shots fired.

It was a nightmare, but for Ace the worst part was being so close yet so far away from the trauma that Marco was experiencing.

They turned to the next street. Marine vehicles everywhere. As soon as they noticed them there were bullets flying.

Ace held on tight Marco, knowing that if he got out of this alive he had no choice but to give up his pride.

"Where are we going?"

"The Moby Dick, our sanctuary."

They eventually got out of the marines area, left the ones that were following them far behind and made it all the way to a large ship in the old harbour.

Thatch hugged Marco closely, as did Izou, when they had made it all the way to the meeting place. They exchanged hushed words and tears. Whispers that no one would dream of hearing.

"I'll do it." It was Ace who had spoken.

"What?" They turned to him, confused.

"The surgery, I'll do it, I... I trust you."

It had been a month when Marco approached him in the hallway of the Moby Dick. He'd mostly been around Izou who'd helped him settle in with the rest of the Whitebeard family. The face of the apparent second-in-command of their whole group had been impossible to find during all this time.

"I'm no longer your captor, so that Stockholm Syndrome bullshit isn't valid now, right?"

"That's true." Ace knew where this was going, and he could help but give Marco a genuine smile. It felt good, for the first time he felt good.

"You mind giving me a second chance?"

"I wouldn't mind at all."

@marcoaceweek

#marco ace week #marcoace week #marcoaceweek #marco #ace #gol d. ace #portgas d. ace #marcoace week 2019

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percival-tealeaf · 5 years

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OMG I have so many questions. First, how does running a game in the critrole world work? Is it at the same time as the show? And what can you tell us about the one-shot crew, who are they? All of these characters are so deep! How do you make them so different? Do you plan romances, like the one with the angel, beforehand? What is the party you run for like? (Sorry, I just really love learning about people's characters, answer as many or as few as you wanna)

Oh wow yeah! So I’m just gonna go down the line here. As far as running the game in the CritRole world I used the Tal’dorie campaign guide that they put out an went from there. Mine is set at about the same time as the second campaign but based off of the first. It’s tricky because I have to largely disregard the second campaign canon (and the fact that everyone should still technically be alive from the first campaign in the timeline that I set up technically) because things I’ve established have gotten contradicted by the show but it’s been fun.

As far as my one shot crew (which really have all had like a minimum of 3 sessions) it has consisted of a really homebrew Narnia style talking panther rogue named Nyx. A happy go lucky Drow Bloodhunter that just wanted to make friends named Myren Cara Seastone. And a lovely trans feminine Duck totem barbarian pirate with a level in bard named Hwyaden (which literally translates to duck in welsh) who is my PC for our current one shot. All of them are fun and have surprisingly in depth backstories but I didn’t feel like they were fit for full campaigns so I’ve used them on a smaller scale.

I’m so glad you think my beans are so deep! I try! I am a theatre major in college so that does tend to help with my own personal character development but beyond that I do a few things to make sure they’re not all cookie cutters of each other (although that isn’t always a bad thing). I start with one thing I’ve never played before like class, race, personality. Then I add something I’m comfortable with and ho from there. I draw a lot from my own life and from things I read or watch too.

For the romance I have never planned it beforehand but I also make sure to communicate with the player before I try anything in game. To go back to the Arella/Talynn romance I realized about halfway through the time I played her that she was getting to be interested in a romance with either Talynn or the gnome bard Nop that I talked about. So I went to Talynn’s player (that romance fit the story best) and asked about the possibility. She had also been getting that bibe and was gonna romance Arella or her boyfriend’s player character so we decided to go ahead with it whenever it fit into the game naturally. I have had other romances that didn’t go so well because it was all in game which was fine but I was unprepared as a player for it so it was a little awkward and uncomfortable initially.

The party I run for is wonderful. Like I said (I think) the players are all some of my closest friends and they are all English or Theatre majors so they’re wonderful storytellers (definitely better than me sometimes). In game it consists of Tercio, a Cleric of Sarenrey who sold his soul to Asmodius to save his daughter from a curse placed on her by said lord of the nine hells. He was turned into a tiefling for his efforts but got better recently and is now just your average tired human dad. He’s the least effective of the party because he doesn’t have a whole lot of faith so his spells don’t always work but he’s the glue that holds the party together. Next is Raine, a bubbling Water Genasi Druid who solves all her problems with commitment issues and weed. She is surprisingly charismatic and is currently a high ranking member of every single criminal organization that exists but mostly she just wants to be left alone. Then we have Viridi a half-elf barbarian turned paladin of the Raven Queen when he accidentally passed off a ancient family curse to Asmodius and may have released a powerful demon in the process. He’s also totally not dating a necromancer, I wouldn’t worry about it. Finally we have Jade the Half-elf dryad ranger who is scary good at anything involving survival or nature or fighting but is immediately lost as soon as she steps foot in a town. She loves her friends a lot which is a recent allegedly irritating development but is gonna play out well I think. They are all being targeted as the four potential adventureurs that could stop Asmodius from breaking the devine gate and wreaking havoc on Exandria. The campaign involves a lot of dream sequences and is heavy rp but I think I can safely speak for all of us and say we’ve had a lot of fun so far.

Thanks so much for all your questions! I love getting to ramble about D&D especially when it’s the things I’ve put a lot of work into!

#alexa plays d&d #alexa monologues #my campaign #my pcs #Technicolor Death #thanks for asking!#asks #d&d #one shot crew #hwyaden #myren #nyx

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wxldchxld · 5 years

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@irnveined

Negotiations

Remember when I said this was gonna be one part and then it was two surprise now it’s gotta be three but that is the LINE! At least this one is shorter?

The dreams started the next night, and they returned again the next evening and then once more the night after. Asha had never thought much of dreams. Putting meaning to evanescent visions in the depths of night were the fancies of madmen and children. How many times had she watched her Lord Father barely contain his exasperation as the Damphair rambled on, teaching his fever dreams as divine preachings? Enough to know neither nightmares nor fantasies had a place in the mind of a queen. If she dreamed, she forgot it as soon as she woke, and if she did not forget, she put it out of her mind willfully. But these were dreams she could not shake.

On the first night she’d jolted awake at an astonishing speed, landing on her feet with her knife in hand and her eyes dark and disoriented. She’d been thankful that she had chosen not to take Qarl to her bed; they’d have likely stabbed one another in all the confusion. But it was not only the dream that shook her. No, she’d won in the dream, but the feeling of a presence---the weight of a shadow on top of her---it caused her to wake ready for a fight.

She was not wrong. Sitting at her table, well out of her axe’s reach sat the fox general. She was swathed in shadows and in the low light of a single oil lamp Asha could see the woman watching her. Subconsciously, she’d made a jape about it, but neither of them had found any amusement in her words. In truth even if she were not newly wed she would not have taken such a woman to bed. Not because she’d never taken a lover whose passion for her was mostly rooted in hatred, but because beneath her wide eyes and sloping curves, all Asha could see was a sword---long and sharp and poised to swing down and cleave off her head if she did not protect it. Had her wife felt the same way? Questions lingered on her tongue like prisoners aching for freedom, but she squashed them.

“Why are you here?” She asked. There was a half empty cup of ale at her bedside, and Asha wasted no time gulping it down to quiet her nerves.

“I promised the Allvaldr I would see you on a throne. I have a feeling he would prefer it if you were not too brain dead to rule.” She replied. When Asha only responded with a questioning look, she continued. “Sometimes people pulled into a dream walker’s grasp don’t wake up. If too much time passes, they never will. It was a risk we were willing to take with your men, but not with you.”

Asha grunted and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt too vulnerable without her feet on the floor. “The witches said they had only one dream walker. What good are you?”

“I may not have the skill to walk in dreams myself, but I have plenty of experience pulling people out of dreams.”

The way she trailed off made Asha think that more was implied, but the Fox said no more, and even if she’d wanted to ask, Asha wasn’t sure where to start. Harper had left her after that, only to return each night later. It’d been the last time they’d spoken though. There was a silent understanding between the two warriors; they both needed one another, and too much talking was certain to shatter their tentative peace.

The dream had been about a golden kraken and her supporters rising up to drown the whole of the Iron Fleet, and it ended with the kraken molding into the seastone chair, and sitting on it was her own shadowy figure. The witches not involved in the spells were aiding it by sending beasts from the deep to assault Euron’s ships and storms to shake the sails and to wear down the men attempting to rein them in. They were too far away for any spilled blood to reach her own fleet, but she’d seen a stray corpse and the floating remnants of a sunken longship. It would have frightened even me. She thought, though she would have never admitted it aloud. Perhaps not enough to make me surrender, but plenty to have me turn my ships around and flee.

On the fourth night, the omen changed. It showed the golden kraken’s enemies turning to face the blood red Silence silhouetted against the crimson light of a blood moon, and the kraken meant to represent her uncle turned black. It’s limbs rotted away, and its body writhed. Feathers sprouted along the squid’s mantle, and its beak grew out, long and gnarled and ebony. Finally the kraken was nothing more than a haggard, diseased crow. It’s caw sounded sharp and mad, frantically echoing over the waves with its shrill cries.

Ca-hahaha ha! Ca-ha-ha-ha! And in the water below the ship the stone-battered body of her father pointed an accusing finger up to the Crow’s Eye. Euron’s laugh continued in wild peals, rising and falling and shaking the waters with their mad bleating.

HA! Ca-haha ha. She felt like every roll of laughter was stealing away her own breath. Euron flapped his great, twisted wings, hardly able to fly they were so terribly misshapen, and he swooped down upon Victarion’s kraken. As Euron held her other uncle in his terrible, rotting talons, the yowl of his dragon horn accompanied the frenzied sound of laughter, and dragons descended from the sky to begin to burn the Iron Fleet.

The dream showed the other lords taking their ships and returning to Pyke, and then her own kraken rising from the water to drag the Crow beneath the water and drown him. She woke only after the red deck of the silence had turned black beneath the water, and the Crow’s red eye was all that could be seen in the watery depths, and her own shadow back on the seastone chair, surrounded by a thousand men shouting what they ought to have at her queensmoot. Asha Queen! Asha Queen! Again and again.

She told them to send her no more dreams after that. Before she had wanted to know, so that she might use it to her advantage, but even as she walked the deck and listened to the waves against the sides of her Black Wind, she could not get the wild laughter out of her head. If she could not sleep, she could not fight, she’d told them. They’d all agreed, and they’d sworn there would be no new dreams.

On the sixth day, just as her crew started to squirm, she turned their ships toward Euron’s fleet. She had not expected to see anyone for another day, perhaps two, but before the sun fell on the sixth day, one lone ship appeared on the horizon. She recognized it instantly: the Iron Victory. Her uncle Victarion’s vessel.

No more had she put her hand on her own axe to prepare for battle than she saw a small boat lowered over the side of the Iron Victory. Only two people stepped in, and Asha couldn’t see who they were. She watched with mild curiosity as the little boat inched closer and closer, until she could make out her uncle, still half clad in his armor, sitting sullenly on the back seat, and a man half his size rowing for all his life was worth in the front. When they called to board, Asha allowed it with Cuyler the Eagle at her left and Qarl at her right. The oarsman flopped onto her deck and merely propped himself up on the side of the ship without standing. Her crew was so silent she could hear the poor bastard’s wheezing above the sound of the lapping waves. Her uncle, however, managed to look marginally respectful, though his eyes were red and tired.

“You might have pulled closer.” He said in a halfhearted growl as he approached. She could see him stare down the witch at her side and how he judged her instantly for his presence. Asha didn’t care.

“What business have you, uncle?” Asha asked, her hand still resting in the hook of the axe on her hip. He’d be a damned fool to attack her on a boat surrounded by her own crew, but her uncle had never been known for his incredible wit. He was a marvelous killer, and that was just about all he’d ever been good for. She didn’t put making a brazen attempt on her life past him. He’d die, yes, but so would she if he succeeded. That would be all that mattered to the Crow’s Eye. Asha had a sinking feeling in her gut that if Victarion did something that foolish the witch king would see it as insult and the witches wouldn’t spare a single man, woman, or child on the Iron Islands. Her best bet to fell him would be her axe right between his eyes before he could think to react. She was faster than him; she knew that much.

Victarion stared silently at her, then sighed and began to unsheathe his weapons and drop them onto her deck in an uncharacteristically dramatic display of his exasperation.

“I want to speak with you privately. Must I also strip my mail?” His hands gripped at the bottom of his shirt and Asha made a face, then held up her hand to stop him. She had no desire to be put through that sight.

“Why would I grant you this?”

Her uncle grunted. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”

She laughed at that.

“What could you possibly offer me?”

“Nearly half the Iron Fleet. And information on the Crow’s Eye and his plans. Urgent information.” Came his tense reply. He rolled his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

“This way.” She said with only a moment’s hesitation.

Asha turned around to head below deck and tried to look as if she weren’t dreading this conversation. Her uncle had been exhausting to deal with back in the days when her father had been alive to tell him to shut up or go away. Not as bad as Aeron, the mad fuck, not nearly, but at best she imagined her uncle would offer to void her sham marriage to Erik Ironmaker in exchange for her surrender. At the worst… Her eyes drifted over to Qarl, whose expression mirrored her own; he didn’t trust Victarion either.

“This is a mistake.” said the Eagle, now to her right after she’d turned to leave. His voice was deep, and it carried naturally, but he’d forced himself to speak so softly she was sure no one else had heard. “This man means to betray you.”

“Perhaps one day.” She replied dismissively. She gave his shoulder a good natured pat as if that might reassure him, and she made no attempt to shield her uncle from insult by lowering her own voice. “He couldn’t hope to kill me when I am armed and he is not.”

At least not before help arrived. The queen thought sullenly. Victarion’s hands were weapons enough. With them he’d given his own wife a slow and painful death.

“I am no kin slayer.” Said Victarion at her back. Asha watched Cuyler send him a glare over his shoulder, but that was the end of the discussion. She would not be denied. Not now. Not in front of a man who had already belittled and dismissed her command.

The air below deck was twice as thick, and she had to squint as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the oil lamps flickering along her table. To prove a point, she strode over to a chair and took a seat. If Victarion picked up on the significance of the gesture, it didn’t show on his dull face. In the lowlight he looked haggard and almost weak.

“I doubt you’ve come to discuss the terms of Euron’s surrender.” She said with a snort.

He didn’t mirror her mirth. “Only my own.”

Asha raised her brow at that. “What’s so urgent then?”

“My terms first.” Her uncle grabbed a chair himself, but Asha had a feeling it had more to do with his exhaustion than any brazen display of confidence. He rubbed at his face with a shoddily bandaged hand, and it was only when he did that she realized the stench she smelled now didn’t come from the cabin or her men. It was the foul scent of festering flesh and greasy bandages. Her stomach turned.

“Spit them out then.” Asha told him as she stood to go and get herself a cup of ale. Anything to put some space between herself and that stench. It was positively vile. If he could still use that hand at all she’d be stunned.

“You made me an offer on the shores of Old Wyk.”

“To be your hand?” Asha asked with clear amusement in her tone. It would do no good to bait him and yet… “I’ve the means to destroy Euron and any who would call out his name, nuncle. Including you.”

“Wizards.” He spat. “Is there anyone in the world who isn’t making a deal with wizards?”

Asha only shrugged, so he went on. “They would call you kinslayer. No one is more despised than the man who strikes down his own.”

“They follow Euron just fine when we both know my Lord Father didn’t fall to his grave by chance.”

“No one can prove it.”

“But they all know it.”

“They will curse your name.”

“Have you met my new friends? Theirs are the only curses I concern myself anymore.” Asha drained her cup, filled it again, and returned to the table. “And they will hate me only until they see the riches I have to offer them. Trading with the witches will make the poorest lord on a iron islands richer than a Lannister.”

She could see him go pink with anger, his mouth twisting into an ugly frown. “That is not the old way!”

“Fuck the old way. There are no old days to come, only new ones, nuncle. It’s time we all learned that.” And if she had to force feed them the lesson by cramming it down their throats she would. If they would not allow room for diplomacy she would carve it out with her axe. Let them continue their reaving and plundering in the South or even the East, but to the North and West she had her own plans, and they’d only complain about them until they started to benefit from them.

Victarion’s hands curled to fists in his lap, his jaw set, and for a long time, he said nothing. Asha watched with a calm sense of superiority that her own speech had invoked as he fought with his own pride and small mindedness until he was calm again.

“You said you had something to offer me. I should hope it’s better than this.” She said expectantly. “State your terms or get off my ship.”

“I mean to make you the same offer you made me.” He said slowly, as if his own words left a bad taste in his mouth. “Let me act as your---hand.”

“By the look of you, I don’t think you have a hand to spare.” She said, shrugging her shoulders and laughing at her own joke. “You’ve just as much a chance to turn your ships around and bend the knee as anyone else.”

“People may submit to your rule, but they will not support it. They would support me.”

Only they hadn’t. Some had, but not nearly enough to win him the driftwood crown. For all the support he’d received at the kingsmoot he was still no king. But she couldn’t deny that--if turned to new purpose--that support would make things easier. At the least, fewer of her people would be put to the sword with it.

“What else do you want?” She asked grimly.

“The Iron Fleet and a castle for when I am too old to command it.”

She pretended to ponder this for a moment. In truth he wasn’t asking a lot, and he was offering a hell of a lot more than she ever thought he would. She’d be a fool not to accept such an offer---even if the idea of dealing with him as her adviser for the rest of her days made her cringe inside. Perhaps if she sent him out to do enough raiding she could spare herself the headache.

“So be it.” She stood back to her feet and started back to the upper deck. She had to get away from that stench. Maybe one of the witches could do something about it.

Asha paused on the steps and turned to face him once more. Victarion hadn’t moved. His head was in his hand, propped up on the table as if it ached terribly. “You said you had something urgent to tell me.”

Asha had not thought it possible for him to look any more serious, but there was a morning expression pulling at his face when he faced her. He straightened his shoulders and met her eyes.

“Euron's wizards have magic on their own. They told him that you have a second fleet, unguarded and to strike their first. If you turn your ships now you may catch him still.”

#irnveined

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eidetictelekinetic · 6 years

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So @brassfannibal tagged me to talk about my WIPs. I’m going to keep it to the ones I’m actively working on, or we’ll be here all day.

Miranda-centric installment of the Black Sails daemon AU: Goes through mostly s2 and Miranda’s past, POVs of both Miranda and her daemon.

Their cousins are the pampered children of an earl. They are just the child of the earl's sister and the mesalliance she made, the scholarly husband who was beneath her, but who Uncle Henry is fond enough of – and loyal enough to his sister's memory – that he allows his brother-in-law and young niece to live with his family in the rambling country manor. Because of this, Miranda is a quiet girl, forever curled up with a book the way her father devotes himself to his. And Arete, fittingly, chooses quiet shapes. Cats, dogs, small birds.

Or, rather, his choices would be fitting, if he didn't insist on fur and feathers in the most unusual, even impossible colors. His favorite shapes in their childhood are a green-furred housecat and a purple sparrow, curled in his human's lap or sitting on her shoulder.

Keeper Of The Stars (AOS Spirk soulmate AU): I am on the last chapter! If I ever finish it! D:

“Then it would be logical for us not to be parted.” Spock does not exactly intend to allude to the words of Vulcan wedding vows, but it is not entirely accidental, either. (He and Jim must one day discuss all aspects of Vulcan mates, he knows. But not just yet.)

“Can't argue that one,” Jim says, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Spock's hand. “Don't want to anyway. I never wanted to leave you, and I'll do everything I can to make sure we both stick around a good long while.”

Destiny Turns On A Dime (AOS Kirk/Spock/Uhura daemon AU): Uh... This one is being stubborn, but I have good intentions of getting back on it?

They grew accustomed to it, in the last days before Jim woke, when Callisto had reconstituted as a small, sleepy white coyote pup who always wanted to cuddle close to another daemon. Spock knows that Katrana misses it, and he suspects that Badru does as well, though he has yet to ask Nyota and if Katrana and Badru have discussed it, his daemon has not told him. Dr. McCoy's raccoon can often be found cuddled with Callisto or petting her – a habit Spock has observed often in the past year, and nothing has changed that he can see.

How Callisto – and Jim – feel about any of this is unknowable.

Iron and Silk verse (A Song of Ice and Fire, canon-divergent as fuck): Definitely, definitely continuing on this, damned verse is one of my Top Projects. I’ve got the rest of my A Game of Thrones adaptation to do, carry on into my War of Four Kings, plus a Brightflame/Blackfyre centric prequel.

She may have talked her cousin Monford around, but oh, how Ashara understands his rage, when she allows herself to think back. She so rarely does, or she would have clawed out her late goodbrother's eyes for seeing only dragonspawn, would have stabbed Tywin Lannister with a dinner knife if she could get close enough. And she could never have married Stannis and borne his children, could she, when she also remembered little Prince Viserys, fretful but a sweet boy all the same, remembered Queen Rhaella and pictured her every time she thought of Daenerys, the child born in a storm? Stannis would have killed them on his brother's orders, she knows, would have done his duty, and she cannot dwell on that, she must not.

In the end, Rhaenyra Blackfyre goes home with an extra packet of herbs. She slips them into Calla’s wine, and watches her sister drop off to sleep in the window seat of their solar, calm and unmoved despite her awareness that sometimes, when put in wine, the sleep that herb mix causes may be permanent. She is far more worried that her daughter be bundled up against the cool winds off the sea as they slip out of a side door to meet Merick Seastone for the trip north.

The Lady of Rivers and Storms (ASOIAF Lysa/Stannis AU): Another big one for me, next chapter sees a return to King’s Landing and more babies! And probably Littlefinger (boo, hiss).

They should have known that King Robert hadn't come just out of some longing to see his ancestral home. Lysa is not present when Robert tells Stannis that he is to come to King's Landing, to join the small council as Master of Ships, but she hears about it soon enough, from a husband torn between hoping this is a sign of respect from his brother and a fury that he's being taken from what Lysa has come to realize is the only life he's ever wanted. Her husband has always wanted Storm's End, it's painfully obvious now that she knows him better.

Standing Outside the Fire (Tudors, Boleyns and Seymours are stepsiblings AU): So, fun fact, been writing this thing since 2010, maybe this is the year I finally finish it? We can hope.

It was an option. She could also try to simply make the King lose interest, but since she didn't know how she'd caught his attention, how could she begin to guess what would shake it?

Whatever she was going to do, she needed to have a plan, and soon.

Tagging @grannyweatherwaxofficial @theeladydisdain @cadetducosmos @arielbaratheon and @beanarie if any of you want to do it.

#kate writes fic #iron and silk #change and chance #oi vey look at this #although at least i know niamh has way more wips than me :D

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empresswrites · 7 years

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@rboooks said:

And MarcoAce with things you said when you were drunk too please!

Hope you likey~! ;P (Again, I just flail when needing to do drunk ‘slur’ so I just do regular dialogue---unless they are CLEARLY incoherent, but then I put gibberish, heh XD)

“But what if I like it?” Ace slurs out as he clings to the first commander with giggles. Marco snorts, wondering how they convinced the other to leave on a bracelet of seastone for the night to stay drunk and not burn it off. Of course, Marco would have unlocked it, but he didn’t know who had the key and just merely decided to lug the second commander to his room to sleep it off like most of his brothers sprawled on deck. The ones not allowed to drink were slowly getting everyone to beds, but it always took a bit of time.

“You’re drunk, yoi.”

“That, too. Your thingy at the end there is cute.” Ace points a finger into a tattooed chest with giggles and gets blue eyes staring while keeping them moving to the commander quarters. “You should have your tail out more! Or-or! Change into a birdie so I can pets you! I really like birds, you know? I mean, cats are awesome, but like in the mountains there was this bird that would fly with me as I ran through the woods with my brother!” The youth was rambling and Marco kept him dragged along, getting to the second commander room, but couldn’t open the door. “No~! I don’t wanna go to bed!”

“You need to get some sleep, Ace.” Words try to leave Marco firmly, but was already being interrupted with whines.

“But I wanna talk to you, stupid pineapple turkey yoi.” The words tumble together while hands grip to a purple light jacket and a face nuzzles into a pectoral with whines continuing. Marco couldn’t remember the last time the other got drunk if he was like this, he didn’t think so, but Ace was sure proving to be difficult.

“Fine, but will you at least try to sleep if we go to my room?” The dark head began nodding and smacking into his chest, so he sighs in defeat and led the other along. Getting in the room, a small smile finds him as he finds this point of time a more honest period for the other. “So, you like me because I can change into a bird, yoi?”

“Well, no, not only that!” Ace claims as he is dropped to the bed and is wailing as feet push off boots. Marco watches in amusement of the erratic flails and notices as he gives noises of frustration before succeeding with boots thumping to the ground. “Your cool, Marco!” The body moves in a roll and dark eyes show in a haze of his drunken state, but his grin is ever bright. “You’re super strong, and level headed and attractive, and the fact you can carry so much responsibility is admirable.” Marco watches in surprise at the claims and feels a flush comes to his cheeks at the compliments.

“Attractive?” Marco asks in confusion, catching onto that word the most and watches as the other giggles with wiggles.

“Yes! It’s a crime alone to be like that, you know?! Built just right and the muscles you hold it would be the greatest sight for anyone you pin down and then you have like the most perfect ass--”

“Ace,” the name sharply leaves Marco as he can feel himself getting hot under the collar. “Remember you were going to try to sleep, yoi?” Marco finds his voice as he calmed himself down from the sudden onslaught of his physical attributes.

“Why~?” The complaint flows out, having Marco sigh with a smile as he moves to get the other to bed properly. He is sure to store away what Ace had said while drunk, knowing that at least part of that all was true since he was an honest drunk, which is a good thing he usually can’t be. “I will if you lay with me.”

“Alright,” Marco agrees to that begging face of flushed freckled cheek and gleaming eyes. A cheer leaves Ace, tugging on him to get into the bed with giggles and Marco can’t help but to smile with chuckles.

Maybe Marco should have Izo check to see if Ace really feels something towards him?

#MarcoAce #Drunk!Ace #pre MarcoAce #rboooks #OP Universe #Ace a blabbering drunk #but only to his family #Cutie he is #Marco delving and going too far that it gets to him #XD

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jafreitag · 4 years

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31 Days of Dead 2019: Project Wrap-Up

Hey Now Kids!

I have emerged after a much needed rest. I want to take the opportunity to personally express my thanks to all of you for following this year’s edition of the Unofficial 31 Days of Dead and for all of the messages and kind words that you have sent me. This was a pretty ambitious project that kept me busy right up until the final day, so I apologize for the delay or lack of response to some of your emails. It was a fun ride, and we covered a lot of ground. Here are some quick stats:

31 Days 86 Songs 23 Different years represented 12 hours, 6 minutes of music

1.79 GB of music

…and of course, 10 Years doing these projects

As in past years, I have provided a full track listing and zipped and uploaded all of the mp3 files so that you can download for your future listening pleasure.

WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE TRACKS???? I would love to hear what your favorites were this year. Some of you have reached out already and I truly appreciate it. I’m always curious what you liked and what you didn’t like so that I can make improvements in the future.

THANK YOU!! These projects are a big undertaking and there is no way I could do it all on my own. I want to take this opportunity to recognize two key people who helped out. First, a big thank you to Brian Levine who has been providing the artwork since I started doing these projects in 2010. Each year his artwork gets better. He obviously takes our tagline very seriously – “When they go high, we go higher.”

I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to my long-time friend, Jason Freitag, who hosts these projects on his blog, Liner Notes Music Blog. The blog provides an online home where you can reference these projects anytime you want. Also, if you like the 31 Days of Dead then you should be sure to check out “Grateful Dead Monthly” which is a fun side project that Jason and I collaborate on each month that features a GD show on the anniversary of that particular show. So, if you are not already following Liner Notes Music Blog, then I urge you to do so. Not only can you get your Grateful Dead fix but there are articles and playlists that cover the musical spectrum from jazz to Indie.

If you are having 31 Days withdrawal then you get can you get your fix by following me on Instagram @31daysofdead

Wishing you all the best in the New Year!

2019 Track Listing

Day 1 – One Afternoon Long Ago: The Magical Three

Ripple (9.20.70 – Fillmore East • New York, NY; acoustic set)

Brokedown Palace (9.20.70 – Fillmore East • New York, NY; acoustic set)

To Lay Me Down (9.20.70 – Fillmore East • New York, NY; acoustic set)

Day 2 – Early Songs & 50th Anniversary of Live Dead

St. Stephen > Alligator > China Cat Sunflower > The Eleven > China Cat Sunflower (Robert Hunter; solo Acoustic; 3.18.03 – Town Hall • New York, NY)

Dark Star > St. Stephen (9.19.70 – Fillmore East • New York, NY)

Day 3 – SkullFuck Classics

Playin’ In The Band > Wharf Rat > Playin’ In The Band (6.8.74 – Oakland-Alameda Coliseum Stadium • Oakland, CA)

Bertha (2.15.73 – Dane County Coliseum • Madison, WI)

Day 4 – Lyrical Influences & Collaborations – Part I

Greatest Story Ever Told (8.21.72 – Berkeley Community Theater • Berkeley, CA)

Friend of the Devil (8.21.72 – Berkeley Community Theater • Berkeley, CA)

Stella Blue (8.21.72 – Berkeley Community Theater • Berkeley, CA)

Day 5 – Collaborations – Part II

Jack Straw – Weir (3.23.72 – Academy of Music • New York, NY)

Box of Rain – Lesh (3.24.73 – The Spectrum • Philadelphia, PA)

Mr. Charlie – Pigpen (8.14.71 – Berkeley Community Theater • Berkeley, CA)

Alligator – Pigpen (5.5.67 – Fillmore Auditorium • San Francisco, CA)

Day 6 – Aoxomoxoa – 40-Year Anniversary

Radio Promo – Dupree’s Diamond Blues

The Eleven – Aoxomoxoa Outtake

Doin’ That Rag (2.15.69 – Electric Factory • Philadelphia, PA)

Cosmic Charlie (2.15.69 – Electric Factory • Philadelphia, PA)

Dupree’s Diamond Blues (2.15.69 – Electric Factory • Philadelphia, PA)

Mountains of the Moon (2.15.69 – Electric Factory • Philadelphia, PA)

Radio Promo – What’s Become Of The Baby?

Day 7 – Songs That Have Taken on Different or Renewed Meaning – Part I

Death Don’t Have No Mercy (Soundcheck; 7.2.95 – Deer Creek Music Center • Noblesville, IN)

Dire Wolf (7.2.95 – Deer Creek Music Center • Noblesville, IN)

New Speedway Boogie (2.19.91 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum • Oakland, CA)

Day 8 – Songs That Have Taken on Different or Renewed Meaning – Part II

He’s Gone (3.26.73 – Baltimore Civic Center • Baltimore, MD)

Truckin’ (2.19.85 – Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center • Oakland, CA)

Day 9 – Songs That Have Taken on Different or Renewed Meaning – Part III

Black Peter (12.28.86 – Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center • Oakland, CA)

Touch of Grey (12.15.86 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum • Oakland, CA)

Candyman (12.15.86 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum • Oakland, CA)

Day 10 – Garcia: The Solo Album

Deal (10.17.83 – Olympic Center • Lake Placid, NY)

Bird Song (10.17.83 – Olympic Center • Lake Placid, NY)

Sugaree (10.17.83 – Olympic Center • Lake Placid, NY)

Loser (12.30.78 – Pauley Pavilion, UCLA • Los Angeles, CA

Day 11 – On The Day That I Was Born

Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo (12.11.72 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 12 – Songs That Underwent Lyric Changes

Comes A Time (10.19.71 – Northrop Auditorium, Univ. of Minnesota • Minneapolis, MN)

They Love Each Other (2.9.73 – Roscoe Maples Pavilion, Stanford Univ. • Palo Alto, CA)

Wave That Flag (2.9.73 – Roscoe Maples Pavilion, Stanford Univ. • Palo Alto, CA)

Day 13 – Friday The 13th Edition: The Bermuda Triangle, Seastones, Hunter’s Birthday and Watergate

Seastones > Jam > Ship of Fools (6.23.74 – Jai-Alai Fronton • Miami, FL)

Day 14 – The Europe ’72 Cousins

Tennessee Jed (6.4.78 – Campus Stadium, UC Santa Barbara • Goleta, CA)

Brown-Eyed Women (6.4.78 – Campus Stadium, UC Santa Barbara • Goleta, CA)

Ramble On Rose (12.30.77 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 15 – Acoustic Sunday

It Must Have Been The Roses (10.31.80 – Radio City Music Hall • New York, NY)

Attics of My Life (9.24.94 – Phil Lesh and Friends; Berkeley Community Theatre • Berkeley, CA)

Day 16 – Keep Your Workingman’s Job: Monday Morning Edition

Cumberland Blues (8.3.82 – Starlight Theater • Kansas City, MO)

(Keep Your) Day Job (8.28.82 – Oregon County Fair • Veneta, OR)

Easy Wind (9.20.70 – Fillmore East • New York, NY)

Day 17 – Lyrics About Specific Events

Casey Jones (10.28.77 – Soldiers & Sailors Memorial Hall • Kansas City, KS)

Might As Well (10.29.77 – Evan Field House, Northern Illinois University • Dekalb, IL)

Here Comes Sunshine (2.23.74 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 18 – Another Musical Renaissance: 1973

Eyes of the World > China Doll (10.29.73 – Kiel Auditorium • St. Louis, MO)

Day 19 – First Set Delights

Row Jimmy (6.21.89 – Shoreline Amphitheatre • Mountain View, CA)

Althea (7.19.89 – Alpine Valley Music Theatre • East Troy, WI)

West L.A. Fadeaway (7.19.89 – Alpine Valley Music Theatre • East Troy, WI)

High Time (6.19.76 – Capitol Theater • Passaic, NJ)

Stagger Lee (10.18.78 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 20 – JGB Songs Covered by the Grateful Dead

Reuben And Cerise (6.9.91 – Buckeye Lake Music Center • Hebron, OH)

Mission in the Rain (6.10.76 – Boston Music Hall • Boston, MA)

Day 21 – The Three-Part Suite: A Spiritual Journey Towards Enlightenment

Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower (4.23.77 – Springfield Civic Center • Springfield, MA)

Day 22 – The Last Hunter-Weir Collaboration(?)

Sugar Magnolia (2.18.71 – Capitol Theater • Port Chester, NY)

Day 23 – A Marriage Made In Heaven

Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the Mountain (4.23.77 – Springfield Civic Center • Springfield, MA)

Fire on the Mountain – proto-rap version (Unreleased Mickey Hart solo album – 1973)

Day 24 – Something New Is Waiting To Be Born

Crazy Fingers (9.30.76 – Auditorium, Ohio State University • Columbus, OH)

Day 25 – “The Song” – Come Hear Uncle John’s Band

Uncle John’s Band (3.19.77 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 26 – Disco Dead

Shakedown Street (3.28.81 – Gruga Halle • Essen, West Germany)

Day 27 – 30-Year Anniversary of Built To Last: The Final Studio Album

Standing On The Moon (6.7.91 – Deer Creek Music Center • Noblesville, IN)

Built To Last (5.7.89 – Frost Amphitheater, Stanford University • Palo Alto, CA)

Foolish Heart (8.13.91 – Cal Expo Amphitheatre • Sacramento, CA)

Day 28 – 1979 Flashback: Farewell to the Godchaux’s & Wolf / Welcome Brent & Tiger

The Wheel (2.17.79 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum • Oakland, CA)

…Shakedown Street>Jam (Soundcheck – 4.21.79 – Spartan Stadium – San Jose, CA)

China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider (10.28.79 – Cape Cod Coliseum • South Yarmouth, MA)

Day 29 – Rare & Different Tunes

Mason’s Children (12.28.69 – Miami Pop Festival, International Speedway – Hollywood, FL)

Till The Morning Comes (10.31.70 – SUNY-Stony Brook – Stony Brook, NY)

Clementine (1.23.68 – Eagles Auditorium – Seattle, WA)

Rosemary (12.7.68 – Bellarmine College – Louisville, KY)

What’s Become Of The Baby? (1969 – Aoxomoxoa Outtakes)

Hunter’s Stage Banter about The Barbed Wire Whipping Party (Robert Hunter Solo Acoustic – 6.11.03 – Museum of History & Industry)

The Barbed Wire Whipping Party (1969 – Aoxomoxoa Outtakes)

Let Me Sing Your Blues Away (9.11.73 – William & Mary College Hall – Williamsburg, VA)

France (1.8.78 – Shakedown Street Rehearsal)

If I Had The World To Give (8.30.78 – Red Rocks Amphitheatre – Morrison, CO)

Believe It Or Not (7.17.88 – Greek Theatre, University of California – Berkeley, CA)

Day 30 – Let My Inspiration Flow…Again

Terrapin Station (3.18.77 – Winterland Arena • San Francisco, CA)

Day 31 – Gave The Best We Had To Give: The Last Masterpieces

So Many Roads (9.18.94 – Shoreline Amphitheater • Mountain View, CA)

The Days Between (12.11.94 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum • Oakland, CA)

Black Muddy River (7.9.95 – Soldier Field • Chicago, IL)

And We Bid You Goodnight (9.20.70 – Fillmore East – New York, NY)

Zipped File Links:

Tracks 1-21: http://www.mediafire.com/file/7qpx85c0jtmc4hp/1-21.zip/file

Tracks 22-43: http://www.mediafire.com/file/g3d7hdgu3fci7xs/22-43.zip/file

Tracks 44-63: http://www.mediafire.com/file/rysfp119hvhhig0/44-63.zip/file

Tracks 64-86: http://www.mediafire.com/file/fwkd20088ohu5sr/64-86.zip/file

Phantasy Tour Link: https://www.phantasytour.com/bands/phish/threads/4580717/gd-2019-unofficial-31-days-of-dead#page/1

Link to “Official 30 Days of Dead” with track listing 2010 – present: https://www.whitegum.com/livedate/30days.htm

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