“The Macra used to be the scourge of this galaxy. Gas. They fed off gas, the filthier the better. They built up a small empire using humans as slaves and mining gas for food.” “They don’t exactly look like empire builders to me.” “Well, that was billions of years ago. Billions. They must have devolved down the years. Now they’re just beasts. But they’re still hungry and my friend’s down there…”
Title: The Family Business Author: punkascas Artist: Coplins Rating: Explicit Pairings: Dean/Cas (background Dean/Others, Cas/Others) Warnings/Tags:
Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder Husbands, Rough Sex, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic References to Underage, Boxing, Jealousy, Pining, Dean and Cas Raise Claire, Angst with a Happy Ending Posting Date: 11/6/2017
Chicago, 1941. With the 1930s over and war in Europe threatening to involve the US, the crime bosses of the Prohibition Era should be dead and gone. But Dean and Castiel Winchester—better known as the Winchester Brothers, along with their gang, The Family Corporation—refuse to be relegated to history. Over the years,, they’ve managed to build a small but stable criminal empire in Chicago. The newspapers hail them as the gangster prodigies of Al Capone and Baby Face Nelson: crime lords for a modern era.
Politicians like to carouse with the criminal and celebrity elite at Dean Winchester’s nightclub. Police line the pockets of his coat, from petty beat cops all the way to captains of the force. No one’s talking. No one can seem to stop them.
Except maybe one man. Special Agent Sam Campbell knows all about the so-called Winchester Brothers. Years ago he swore as his personal mission to bring them down, ever since he recognized a face in an old newspaper photo. That was the day he learned that his brother Dean was still alive.
- - -
Before they left Chicago, Dean
pulled Meg into his office and demanded she tell him how to make Cas better.
How to fix him. He threw out every possibility he could think of: better
drugs, different drugs, more drugs. More boys. Whatever it would take to keep
Cas calm, content, contained.
He remembers the pristine white
of Meg’s nurse’s uniform seemed almost blinding under the office lamps. She
looked him straight in the eye and offered him the hammer needed to pound the
final nail in Cas’s coffin.
“You really think his diagnosis
is the issue?”
“I need him stable,” Dean
growled back at her. “I need him goddamn predictable. We’re running a business
Meg only gave him a pitying
smirk. “When has Clarence ever been predictable? You should know. Out of
anyone, you have the most perversive knowledge of him.”
His revolver rested on some
papers. Idly he picked it up, cradling it against his chest while he kicked his
heels up on the desk, and wielded his most charming grin. That was the true
weapon here. Green eyes, and wide, white shark teeth.
“Pervasive. I think you meant
to say. The Family Corporation doesn’t appreciate the spreading of
unsubstantiated and scandalizing rumors, Miss Masters. We’re a polite society
here. Gossip is rude. And bad for business. And while I can be a gentleman, I
am resolutely a businessman first.”
His thumb cocked the pistol’s
hammer back slowly. He relished how loud a quiet sound could be in a tiny room.
“Of course, Mr. Winchester,”
Meg simpered in false flattery. She wasn’t the type of dame to be intimidated.
It was one of the qualities that let her prevail as Cas’s nurse. She planted
her palms on the center of his desk, leaning into his space, into the threat of
the gun. “But if you’re hoping those pills the doctors prescribe or those boys
he parades around the club are the answer, you’ll be sadly disappointed.
Castiel, he’s a force of nature, and nature is never predictable, Winchester.
Nature can never play by the rules of gentlemen. So what you’re asking
me is not how to curb some misbehavior, but how to stop Castiel from being
Castiel. And I think we both know there’s only one solution to that.”
Her eyes were dark, glittering
with contempt, but there was also that same sad resignation that had been in
Rufus’s eyes. In Bobby’s. In Benny’s. A look that said they all knew a truth
Dean was too sentimental to admit to himself.
“Get out,” he told her then,
and threw the revolver against the door once it closed behind her. It hadn’t
been loaded in the first place.
Far from Chicago, Dean looks at
Cas as they are now: at the curve of his bare shoulder; at the shapes of the
muscles in his arm; at the way his trousers slope low around his hips. Cas of
course is too distracted to pull them up. It’s a sight Dean has known since
what feels like the moment he first knew consciousness. Fingers curled loosely
around his forgotten cigar, grey winter smoke for a grey winter sky, Cas has
gone lost himself in thought at the window.
Here they could be anyone. Two
pseudonyms in an anonymous hotel room. They could go anywhere. Away from
Chicago. From the gang. From business. Dean could live his thirties the
same way he lived the first three decades of his life, with Cas as the dark
center around which his world spins.
Faceless as they are, television’s ladies for hire have certainly multiplied. If you were to judge the female population based off their representation in the last decade’s programming alone, it would appear more like 4 out of 5 women sell sex for money, and they all happen to look like swimsuit models — just without the swimsuit.
You’ll find them in, to name just a few, “The Girlfriend Experience,” “Emerald City,” “Billions,” “Anger Management,” “Goliath,” “The Knick,” “Taboo,” “Sons of Anarchy,” “Ripper Street,” “Boardwalk Empire,” “True Detective,” “Training Day,” “Ray Donovan,” “House of Cards,” “Secret Diary of a Call Girl,” “Hawaii Five-0” and the various flavors of “Law & Order,” “CSI” and “NCIS.” Remember the HBO drinking game — take a shot every time they show a scene in the whorehouse or strip club? Audiences are still drunk.
And viewed through the male gaze of the hero, as they almost always are, the working women of TV are a fail-safe plot device. They’re the hooker with a heart of gold that he hopelessly falls for, the imperiled hooker he saves, the hooker he brazenly uses, the dead hooker who’s a clue in the case he must solve. They’re the perfect backdrop to help define his dilemma, and require almost no setup when it comes to staging those ubiquitous, hot sex scenes in unlikely places. And that’s when they are afforded the dignity of being a plot device as opposed to mere titillating window dressing.
But with “Harlots,” television’s favorite wallpaper now has its own show.
The Hulu series, which premieres Wednesday, doesn’t just visit the brothel, it lives there among the women of London’s 18th century sex trade. It’s their perspective that drives the narrative and, it turns out, prostitution looks a lot different through the eyes of a woman in the business. (A British co-production, the show airs two days earlier on ITV.)
“Harlots” is a frank depiction of women forced into the profession by poverty, class or birth, but not an entirely desperate one. The sex scenes here are neither titillating nor horrifying, gratuitously explicit or unnecessarily judgmental. They are simply a function of the job.
Bodices aren’t ripped in passion, but rather skirts lifted for the sake of practicality and time. The quickies in an alley are just that, quickies, and it’s onto the next John … or maybe a lunch break.
The women’s lives beyond these paid transactions is where the real story is.
The Wells family is building a small empire off their hard work. Margaret (Samantha Morton) owns and runs a brothel in a hardscrabble section of the city. She was born into this life: Her own mother sold her at age 10 for a pair of shoes. But she’s made the best of the hand she was dealt, and unlike most of the women in 1700s London, she is a small business owner. Now Margaret is pimping out her own daughters, Lucy (Eloise Smyth) and Charlotte (Jessica Brown Findlay).
Her appalling choice is not without guilt, but whatever maternal instincts she has are countered by her goal to raise enough money to buy a home in the upscale neighborhood of Soho.
“Money is a woman’s only power in this world,” says Margaret. “This city’s made of our flesh, every beam, every brick. We’ll have our piece of it.”
There is competition, however. Formidable madam Lydia Quigley (Lesley Manville), who runs a classier crosstown bordello in a more respectable part of London, is intent on destroying Margaret’s business. Their brilliant and ruthless tactics to undermine each other rival that of the competing agencies of “Mad Men.”
The eight-part series was influenced by “Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies,” a directory to London whoring written by patrons and pimps in the 1700s. The guide, published for nearly 40 years, was like a Yelp for sex trade customers that listed the specialties, talents and physical attributes of prostitutes in the highly trafficked area.
Created by Moira Buffini and Alison Newman, the show’s team of producers, directors and writers is largely female, which partially explains why “Harlots” is a fresh look at an age-old profession — and television trope.
The casting of Brown Findlay (formerly the feisty Lady Sybil of “Downton Abbey”) as the steely-eyed, calculating survivor Charlotte is a statement in itself. She moves among the powdered-wig upper crust with the confidence of a professional woman, which in contrast to the limited roles for ladies of that era, is empowering.
But “Harlots” is not a feminist proclamation that recasts the sex trade as something noble. It’s a series in which the prostitutes are treated by the show’s writers with the same levels of humanity and importance as the men who’ve historically used and defined them. Here, the Johns play a supporting role to the show’s real stars: complex, shrewd and conflicted women who, just like their customers, have ambitions and goals.
A small teaser from Empire Magazine for their next issue (out Nov 30th) which is all about The Last Jedi. Here we also get a better look at those snow (or salt?) troopers walking behind Kylo from the official trailer.
A/N : Sorry for not posting in trillions, I have been in the middle of moving and quite honestly I have really not been happy with anything I have written, including this which is really no fun because I loved this request and had it all set out but I have just not had the time, the only thing I did have was terrible writers block and just nothing was flowing. Anyway I hope this is a least somewhat okay and not totally brain rotting-ly terrible. ( I also changed it slightly to fit the context I hope it’s okay !! )
Wordcount : 1958
Tagging :@melli-world ______________________________________ You had heard about him.
How could you not have ?.
The new kid on the block had made a name for himself in the last couple weeks. Stealing shipment, killing mob bosses and threatening batman had kind of become his thing. He was called Red Hood…or so you had been told. You would not normally care for these things but there was something that drove you off the wall about him.
Which side was he on ?.
You thought he was a bat at first, But when the news of the rapidly changing Gotham underground came into play, you weren’t so sure. Bruce would never condone that amount of killing, not that you had been keeping up with that crowd as of late.
Still, you lurked in dank alleyways and perched on buildings taking in the view of a night still young. A night that still held so much potential.
potential it intended to fulfil.
In good time you received a message that one of your shipments was to arrive at the docks in the south-east region of Gotham in 10 minutes.
You passed one of your safehouses grabbing a dark trench coat, spending no time faffing about, you had places to be and people to see.
As the door slammed behind you the sound of the city engulfed you once again, the glowing signs of conveniences stores beat with the sound of sirens in the distance, but you remained unfazed even when the rough air brushed against your neck and goosebumps began to form.
It seemed like any other evening, but the air whispered secrets and city seemed all too alive.
You hailed down a taxi and open the door to the backseat closing it aggressively.
“south-east docks” you announced before turning your attention to the glowing bat signal in the sky.
You hated how even one glance at that signal would give you an overwhelming sense of nostalgia you could never shake off. It haunted your thoughts, your every decision.
Working with Bruce Wayne was a curse and you were almost sure he was not the hero or the anti-virus that the city needed. Gotham does not work like that. You can’t grant it immunity to the disease if it is the disease.
Though, you know what they say “if you can’t beat them join them” and after everything that happened with Jason there wasn’t anywhere else to go.
You dropped out of school and making Batman’s life a little harder became your full-time job.
You created a small empire in the city, peaceful ties with other mobs and cartels were made and you managed to decrease the price of drugs whilst simultaneously increasing crime rates, they typically go hand in hand.
All you had to do was pull some plugs, revive a couple old ones and create some newbies. How easy it was to manipulate the city when you knew the right people.
The docks seemed empty aside from your normal troupe who beckoned to you, their faces were blank and emotionless, they always were, You can’t be happy about selling drugs, but you can’t be sorry about making money and anything in between was too complicated for anyone else to care about.
One shorter girl walked up to you, dressed in a similar trench coat to yours and her hair slicked back into a ponytail. Her deep brown eyes surveying you, wide with fear…maybe excitement?…or both.
Either that or she did a test run of the new inventory before you arrived.
“You’re not worried about you know who ?” She whispered curling her ponytail around her hand.
“Not at all, he is too caught up with black mask as far as I am concerned, I doubt we are even high enough on the food chain for him to realise we exist” You took off your coat and threw it over your shoulder strutting toward the rest of the party
“They did not even make it past the west docks” you overheard someone before making yourself known. You stomped your heel on the sidewalk and the attention of now mortified traders was directed at you.
“What did not make it passed the west docks ?” You asked raising an eyebrow, their eyes darting around.
“Your shipment” A deep voice from behind you answered. You did not even need to turn around to know who it was.
He fired a couple warning shots and the rest of your entourage scattered, but you were not scared of him, you had seen worse in your days, after Jason’s death you had been worse. Whatever this ‘Red Hood’ wanted meant nothing to you and as of now, he is just a bump in the road.
You slowly walked around yourself with your hands up sarcastically. At least you know whos side he’s on now…not yours.
“Well damn” You fake pouted your lip and crossed your arms. “Little red riding hood has chopped up the big bad wolfs inventory” you continued.
He lifted his gun and placed his hands on the trigger, just enough for it to be a threat.
“you know it’s really cute you think you’re the big bad wolf, you don’t scare me” He titled his red helmet to the side, you could’ve pictured the smug look on his face underneath.
“The feelings mutual” You reached for your gun but not in time to stop him from pinning you against the ground, all it took was one glance away.
You could see your reflection in his helmet, not that your face really needed to be any redder. This was a huge nuisance and you needed to get this over and done with.
He continued to throw punches at you, you could see as you tried to fight back but once you realised there was no hope you stared at your changing reflection in his helmet, each punch leaving a new marking on your face.
It took you long enough, but you soon began to realise that this was more serious than you thought. He was stronger, less predictable and seemed to know every move you were going to make.
This was it, this was life or death.
You tried to keep it together like you had before, but now cries escaped your lips, shrieks ringing through the ports, all being completely ignored by Red Hood until a single tear left your eye.
You don’t know why you had been so weak, it’s not like crying was going to save your life now but you began to whimper and your eye began to fog and he began to stop.
In fact, he froze. His whole demeanour dropped and he mumbled slightly, nothing that you could make out, all before your mind went completely blank and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
You woke up, Your throat dried as heavy breaths invaded your mind. Pants and cries echoed throughout the room, even before you realised they were your own.
Your neck cracked and your chin dropped just enough for you to get a look at your wrists and ankles, all tied up in the same rugged rope. You knew it would worsen if you continued to wriggle and you knew even if you tried to get the knots lose it was not worth it.
The click of the door alerting all of your attention, anything that was floating through your mind was long gone, making room for bigger problems.
The door opened to reveal a man with a cherry red helmet on, but there was no way that was Red Hood. If you weren’t scared of him before you defiantly weren’t scared of him now.
It was like he had shrunk in size. He was shaking and his breaths were nearly as heavy as yours.
Your eyes widened as you took notice of him, should you be scared? , worried ?.
You gawked up at him, tension radiating off your waves, waiting for him to make his next move.
It never came.
He just stood, studying you intensely,
“You’re different from what I remember,” He said, softly.
You stiffened at the sound of his voice, that voice, you knew it.
It was Jason.
Your moment of realisation almost cued him. He took off his helmet revealing flooded blue eyes that could only be Jason’s, his dark hair was now messy and invaded with a thick white stripe.
Jason was Red Hood ?, It was like you didn’t even know him anymore. What had he become…what had you become?
Your hands clenched into fists, before a moment of silence fell over the room. You watched as the wells in Jason’s eyes spilt out and a small drop fell down his cheek.
“I grew up” You stated.
The sheer lack of emotion in your voice was terrifying. Jason continued to look at you, but you were now confronted with his face, his emotions, you could ignore all that when he had the helmet on, you both could.
“You’re just like the rest of them (y/n), But you’re worse!” He growled, taking you back.
“Not only did you leave me to suffer!…but you became one of them! you’re not even fighting for the right side anymore! I have all reason to put this bullet right through your head” He spoke to you through gritted teeth, you grimaced at the thought.
“I doubt I would even regret it!” He continued, the anger now mixing in with the same tears from before.
You broke, that was when it all fell apart. A single tear rolled down past your cheek and dropped onto your lap.
“Don’t say that Jason” You rubbed your eyes, opening them to a spinning room, the only thing in focus was Jason holding a gun directly at you.
“Don’t say what !?…don’t say that I would kill you…what you are?…a criminal” He spat at you, each word hitting you worse than a bullet ever could.
“Do it then Jason…kill me” You dropped your chin, still keeping full eye contact with him.
He flinched when you said his name, he had not heard anyone else who could say it like you could, maybe he was thankful for that. Though that’s not what mattered now, it struck a chord with him and more tears began to fall.
“I missed you (y/n), I still miss you…this is not you…please tell me this is not you” He begged you, dropping to his knees.
He was a mess and it was your fault, you would have to spend years trying to forgive yourself for what you had done.
“I missed you too Jason,” You said, your voice cracking and tears falling.
“Please tell me this isn’t you, please tell me this is the wrong person” He pleaded.
“It’s not me Jason, it’s not (y/n)” You couldn’t bare to break him even more, you wouldn’t force him to come to terms with who you were now.
He untied the rope on your limbs, before daring to look at you one more time.
“You can go,” He said, he hand gesturing to the door.
You lifted yourself out of the seat reluctantly.
Walking out the door just before letting out a small “I love you”.
You knew it was useless, you knew he would never hear it, you knew you did not deserve him hearing it, but you left without objection.
“I love you too,” He said too quiet for you to hear, but just enough for him to hope.
Summary: (of thisseries) As an upcoming king, Zhang Yixing has always had many pressures and expectations as the only heir to the royal throne. As his servant, he never acknowledges you. What happens when he suddenly does?
Summary: (of this chapter) Um, not much. It’s pretty fluffy though.
A/N: Okay I lied there’s no smut. Also, I’m not too confident about this chapter. I wrote it over the course of about a month, so near the end is where I get a little iffy about it…but I hope you enjoy it!
“Stay here. Clean the windows or something. Just stay here.” he says firmly. The last sentence he says is full of desperation.
He wants you to stay with him.
He smirks. “You never seem to listen. Defy me. Disobey me. I dare you.”
“I apologize…your highness.” you say. “I’ll be right back.” you bow your head and scurry away, your face starting to flush. That look he just gave you back there…
A look of mixed annoyance and desperation.
And something else.
You saw it. You swear you saw it. In that moment he told you to disobey him, to defy him. It was a small window to how he really felt. But you know it was there. Even if it was for a split second, you know for sure you saw fear take over his eyes for a short time.
Nervously coming back into the room to clean what’s already spotless, you walk by Yixing, his eyes following your every step. As he focuses on your body moving across the room, you see his date glare at you, causing you to look down.
“Don’t be afraid to look up,” you hear him say with slight amusement in his voice. “You listen to me. Not her. Don’t look down at all while you’re here, my commands.”
An au with my own original story i did for myself a few days ago and forgot to post ^^ Just for fun because i love fantasy au’s
In the criminal empire Denobis exists a Ruler (Victor) who was imprisoned himself in the said empire but got a higher position just because they needed someone.People say that it’s also his faul that all the races and creatures are treated so badly in Denobis . Yuuri, a prisoner in layer 4, because his race is classified as “too dangerous” however actually seems to look up to him.
His race isn’t that dangerous btw, when he’s pushed into a corner he starts to produce a poison that spreads over his skin from his heart but that poison doesn’t kill you, (except maybe in the strong fear of death, depends) it only causes a little pain or let’s you catch a cold. But denobis is a really shitty empire…
Fluff just fluff for a fic I’m gonna write, if you
want a small part of it you can find it
[Here] and [Here]
The big land of Eydís has been claimed by the Galra Empire. The small
rebel group Voltron, an old legend of an Altean warrior, is all that stands in
the way from the empire to take the whole continent.
The leader of Voltron is the queen of Altea and her advisor, the
last magical beings known to still be alive. Then there were the five Terrans,
but only four of them have wings.
I figured now was a good a time as any to make this post! I’d been mulling over it for a while, and I’m getting tired of my own shyness and anxiety! I’m looking to spread my wings a little in the rp community and make a few new connections! I have a small roster of characters to offer, and I’m more than happy to rp with any of them!
I should preface this by saying I’m in Australia. My timezone can sometimes be a little bit wonky. I’m a full-time university student who works from home, so I can generally be quite flexible usually later in the week, but I’m always open for discord rp!
I’m looking for just about anything. Dark plots, lighthearted stuff, a one-off run-in, anything at all! I don’t really have any hard limits when it comes to rp, and the few I do have seem to be shared amongst almost everyone. I do tend to be quite wordy when I post- I consider myself a multi-para writer, but I don’t ever expect my partners to match. Quality over quantity! (and I talk shit most of the time). Each of my bbies has a tumblr, and they are all linked. Feel free to message me here if you’d like to get something started, or on discord! My discord is Sunny#4558 ! I’m super nice! I swear! I’m just anxious all the time!!!!
Tani is a shroud-borne Keeper. He works as a courtesan for the Wanderer’s Elysium, and he frequently graces their stage with racy songs he’ll sing, dance, and often strip to. He’s extroverted, talkative, kind, vain, greedy, talented, and heedlessly generous.
He has a big heart, and initially; that’s hard to see. He has a difficult time letting down his defences (often, those consist of clouting his skills, or his looks - he’s aware he’s attractive), because what lies beneath is scarcely good for business. He’s an insecure wreck with anomic aphasia, a small drug problem, and a dark, bloody past. But, hey - he’s pretty good with healing magic!
Hooks: If you’re from the Shroud, the Keeper clan name ‘Sedi’ might be familiar. His clan were responsible for establishing communication between the Sylphs and the Wailers once upon a time. If you’re a frequent patron to the Keeper’s Kiss, you likely have heard his name – or seen him perform! If you’re part of Ul’dah’s underground, it’s possible you might come across him in your deals. If you’re a healer, he could come to you for help in finding therapy for his aphasia. If you’re a mercenary looking for work– there’s a thousand and one things I could throw your way.
…and now for something completely different. Mouse is a certified member of the Black Lotus. He’s a rail-thin mix of Seeker and Keeper with nine fingers, and one eye. The company he keeps is generally odd, and equally as disarming as he. Mouse’s past is something he’ll generally withdraw from delving into, and ‘Mouse’ is almost certainly not his real name.
A thief by trade, Mouse is playful, talkative, volatile, violent, obsessive, immature, impulsive, unpredictable, brash, kind, and above all; loyal to a fault. He adores shiny things, small animals, knives, and blood. He’s a simple dude with simple pleasures. Sure.
Hooks: You’ll know Mouse if you’ve had any dealings with the Black Lotus. He’s present in Limsa’s Fisherman’s Bottom more often than not, seeking food. He’s easily won over with small gifts and trinkets - and rarely asks for payment in gil. He’s a hired killer, who is particularly skilled at getting in and out of places unseen. A master of brewing lethal potions and pawning them for pretty gemstones in Ul’dah, Mouse is also rather good at gathering information he likely shouldn’t know. He’s even better at forgetting said information once he’s paid off adequately.
Vilde’sae is a traditional wood witch from the Shroud. He leads a simple life out of a small, moss-covered cabin in the forest, filled to the rafters with plants, and all matter of small critters. His day to day life generally consists of gathering herbs, caring for his plants, feeding his animals, and brewing a small plethora of questionable potions to later sell to his business contacts in Gridania.
Vilde is a softly-spoken man, and his presence - while calming - brings with it the sense that something is deeply wrong. Though his words often consist of confusing accolades, or strange anecdotes, his smiles are kind, and despite his disfigured appearance, his intentions seem well-placed. Still, if one might have any small amount of ability to sense aether, it would be quite clear there’s something amiss with Vilde. As if he is bewitched in some way.
Hooks: If you’re lost in the Shroud, he might be able to help you find your way. If you’re seeking wares in Gridania, it’s possible you might stumble across the strange witch in black, with potions in his satchel. If you’re a hired blade, he’d be able to pay you for your help. If you’re in need of healing, he could provide. If you seek consultation with spirits, he could serve as a medium. If you need voidsent banished, an area warded, or a ritual performed - he can help. But, there’s always a price to pay!
Arae is a water witch from the Steppe. He’s never set foot in Eorzea, though he’s heard more than enough to wonder. He’s a deeply curious soul with anger issues, and a sincerely short fuse. It doesn’t take much to set him off. He’s introspective, eager to learn, creative, impulsive, reckless - and deeply, deeply fond of the land around him, and the creatures that inhabit it. He’s traditional in his ways and his beliefs, and impossibly naive despite his age.
For the majority of his life, Arae worked for a small Doman syndicate that used him to move their goods inconspicuously through the waterways and rivers between small villages where the Empire didn’t patrol. His freedom is new, and novel – and he’s still deeply bitter at the hand he’s been dealt.
Hooks: If you live in the Steppe, it’s likely you’ll stumble across him. He’s nomadic, and solitary - but always offering his abilities as a healer in return for pay. If you’re also an Ejinn, it’s likely you might know him, or come across him in your travels. If you have an animal who needs healing, he could help you. If you’re sick with any manner of fever or cold, he could offer his abilities and therapies in turn. If you’re part of the Kugane underground, he might be familiar to you, but he likely won’t be happy to see you. I’m happy to play in other characters as members of his old syndicate, too!
a small corvosider fluff ficlet because I’m having a bad day and want to wallow in their affections
It’s an odd feeling, having his hand held by the Outsider. His thumb traces the place where the mark used to reside, black ink against tan skin. It’s gone now and Corvo feels like the hand is no longer his own, can’t recognize it without the familiar symbol which offers protection and illusion of safety. At the very least he misses the surge of power that runs through his body like a pulse when he clenches his fist. He misses the thrill of chase in the night as he jumps across the roofs.
He wouldn’t ask for it. Wouldn’t come outwardly to the Outsider, begging for the return of his power because if necessary, he can manage without it. And something in his heart, an inkling, tells him he doesn’t have to ask.
“You need to learn to think quieter, my dear Corvo,” the Outsider says, caressing his hand. “But yes, you need not ask. It is agreed, then.”
His palm hovers over Corvo’s skin, blackness of the Void engulfing his fingers for a second when the image of the mark re-inks itself on his flesh, burning bright and golden in the odd blue light of the expanse. The Outsider’s hand moves to slip from his hold but Corvo doesn’t let him go, instead gripping on him gently. Fingers cross and intertwine with the Outsider’s.
“Interesting,” he states curiously, looking down at his pale fingers and Corvo’s thick tan ones. “I admit I have entertained an idea of this, whatever it may be. I did wonder what it feels like, holding your hand, but never have I thought you would indulge my curiosity. And Corvo, I am curious. Where does it take us then?”
Corvo shakes his head a little with a smile. The Outsider is at times incomprehensible beyond imaginable, but Corvo likes it. He would listen to his monologues with as much pleasure as merely holding his hand.
But he wants to try more, dare more.
His arm slides possessively over the Outsider who seems somehow smaller in his hold, narrow shoulders and fragile frame in Corvo’s embrace. The deity presses nose to his chest and he can’t help but smile, protectiveness washing over him.
He kisses his forehead. It’s cool to the touch, bloodless skin so pale and smooth. He kisses him again and his temple and sharp cheekbones and the hollows of his cheeks, the corner of his mouth which moves to talk. Corvo prevents the speech this time, pressing on the Outsider’s lips and smiling stupidly, as if he is sixteen and young again, stealing his first kiss off the gentle lips.
The Outsider is lost against him. At first the deity barely moves, allows his lips to be captured and worries, but then it becomes a game and he responds. Softly and gently, trying the waters until he knows he has a solid footing - and lets go. His hand clenches strong on Corvo’s as he kisses him back. It’s awkward a little and Corvo tries to lead him down a rhythm and tilt of their heads. And when they catch the pace, it’s perfect.
Corvo sways and pulls the Outsider’s body close to him and indulges in a tight desperate embrace as their lips move against each other.
In the years they’ve spent sharing company, the Outsider has opened up secrets and reveals stories to Corvo, be it a tale of the emperors or stories of simple men. All of them held value for the future of the Empire, small things that would one day lead to the Golden Age under Emily the Wise.
Corvo wondered what he could teach the Outsider in return. He had no new stories to tell and was only efficient in the knowledge of the present. But now as he presses the deity to himself in a most possessive manner, it might just be the lesson. He wants to show the way two people can express affection with or without physical involvement. He wants to give the Outsider the life of a human being he has been deprived of. It’s a long way up or down and Corvo wouldn’t mind taking it alongside the black-eyed deity.
“I don’t mind either, Corvo,” the god mutters against his lips, pulling away for a mere moment before sighing into the man’s mouth again, letting his tongue slip through the wet swollen kissed lips.
Virginia was the very first of the 13 colonies to be (successfully) settled, and is at the heart of the story of colonial America, from the establishment of Jamestown in 1607, to being the home state of George Washington.
Before I actually get into the colonization of Virginia, I want to give some background on the area, since Virginia was already home to a fairly powerful empire when the English came to shore, and this kingdom plays a major role in colonial Virginia’s story. Most American tribes north of Mexico never established their own countries, living tribal lifestyles, but there were a handful of exceptions, one of them being the Powhatan Confederacy. The Powhatan confederacy was established around 1590 by, unsurprisingly, the Powhatan tribe, under a chief named Wahunsenacawh, also called Wahunsonacock (often just called chief Powhatan), who, with the help of his younger brother Opechancanough, a skilled warrior, managed to bring about 30 tribes under his overlordship, forcing their chiefs to give tribute to him and be subservient to him, turning a large part of coastal Virginia, around 20,000 square kilometers by Thomas Jefferson’s estimate, into a small Powhatan Empire by 1607, when the English arrived.
1612 depiction of Wahunsenacawh by John Smith
Speaking of the English, in 1606, King James I granted a charter to the Virginia company to establish colonies upon the coasts of the New World, however, the Virginia Company was split into competing factions, one based in London and one in Plymouth, so the 1606 charter actually gave two grants, one to each company. The Plymouth company was allocated land stretching roughly from the modern Maine-Canada border to Chesapeake bay, and the London company was granted lands from Long island sound to Cape Fear. If you’re familiar with American geography, you’ll notice that a considerable territory, from Long Island Sound to Chesapeake Bay, was actually granted to both companies. In order to prevent conflict, James ordered that in this area, the Plymouth and London colonies could not be within 100 miles of each other. Probably would have been easier to just make a clear border between the grants, but I digress.
On December 20 1606, 105 settlers and 39 sailors of the London company set forth on three ships to establish a colony in Virginia. After 144 days at sea, on April 26 1607, they finally made it to America! In order to prevent other potential colonizers (read: Spain) from attacking their new settlement, they were instructed to travel upriver and establish themselves inland, they sailed up the James river (named after their king), and founded their settlement, Jamestown (named after the same king), with plans to mine for precious metals and trade with natives to survive, which would prove easier said than done. The colonists couldn’t find any gold, couldn’t grow any silk, and couldn’t sell what little they could grow, coupled with losses from disease and Powhatan raids (which Opechancanough conveniently blamed on the Chesapeake, a rival tribe) made the settlers question if Jamestown could survive.
What about our old friends in the Plymouth company, how’s their colonization effort going? The real question is; “What colonization effort?” It’s not that the Plymouth men didn’t try, they did, it was just a failure. In July of 1607, about 100 settlers for the Plymouth colony landed at the mouth of Maine’s Kennebec river, and established what’s known as the Popham colony, named after it’s leader, George Popham. by the end of 1607, half the colonists went home, as resources in Popham were scarce, and by that time next year, the rest had packed up and returned to England as well. With Popham a failure, in 1609, the London company was given the lands previously allotted to their counterparts in Plymouth, making them the sole English colonial authority in America. Back to Jamestown. Later that year, the company sent out a massive, crucial export of supplies and colonists to the colony, called the Third Supply, to help Virginia grow and prosper, but a massive hurricane destroyed most of the shipment, with the one of the nine ships, the Sea Venture, having been deliberately crashed on Bermuda to save it from sinking.
From the timbers of the Sea Venture, her sailors, all of whom had survived the storm, built two small ships to carry the remaining suppies to Virginia, while some stayed behind to claim the uninhabited, unclaimed Bermuda for England. Seven of the other ships, all carrying colonists but no supplies, managed to make it safely to Virginia. But, with only a fraction of the supplies intended for the colony, the third shipment ended up ushering in one of the most devastating events in the young colony’s history: The Starving Time. In the winter of 1609-10, a combination of low supplies, a drought stifling agricultural production, and hostility with the locals preventing trade, led to a famine that, of the 500 men, women, and children living in Jamestown in late 1609, left only 60 alive by spring of 1610. Archaeological evidence shows that the situation was so dire, the Virginian colonists were forced to cannibalize the dead to stay alive. With all seeming lost, they set sail to return to England and Jamestown was abandoned.
Skull fragment of a teenage girl found at Jamestown, showing chop marks indicative of cannibalism.
Thomas West, 3rd Baron De La Warr, better known as Lord Delaware, was unwilling to give up, and after the King gave him authorization to take over the Virginia colony, he sent a fleet of relief ships with supplies and colonists to Jamestown. These ships just so happened to intercept the ships carrying the survivors of the Starving Time, who regarded the relief fleet as a miracle, and with new hope for the colony, they returned, ready for Jamestown round 2. Although Lord Delaware helped breathe new life into the colony, his time in leadership also strained the already tense relations with the Powhatan. Raids by poth Powhatan and English were frequent, and Lord Delaware engaged in the conquest of Powhatan lands by capturing small villages near Jamestown. By July, tensions had reached their climax, and Lord Delaware demanded that the Powhatan return all English captives and property, or face war. Wahunsenacawh, unwilling to negotiate with the Baron, made a counter-demand that the English stay in Jamestown, or leave Virginia, prompting Delaware to up the stakes, demanding the return of captives and property or face the destruction of every Powhatan village around Jamestown. Wahunsenacawh never even responded to this message. A month passed with no response, and Delaware was tired of waiting. War was declared, and Delaware sent men to attack the Paspahegh, one of the Powhatan tributary tribes, burning their capital and executing the family of their chief. The war carried on for four years, with the English sporadically burning Powhatan villages, and the Powhatan raiding Jamestown in response.
While all this was happening, John Rolfe, a sailor who had been aboard the Sea Venture, was experimenting with new tobacco strains to try and create a cash crop for the colony, and in 1612, he had succeeded, and the prosperity of Jamestown was secured. Rolfe also helped the colony by ending the war, in 1614, he married Pocahontas, daughter of Wahunsenacawh, bringing peace between the English and Powhatan, however, the peace would not last. Three years later, Pocahontas died after contracting a disease in England, and disease spread back in Virginia, coupled with poor harvests, caused tensions to escalate. Opechancanough, who was chief now that his brother had died, tried to maintain friendly relations, but once his diplomat and advisor, Nemattenew, who had been suspected of killing a settler named Morgan and stealing his hat was felled by an angry mob, Opechancanough wanted to get rid of the English, and planned a surprise attack. On March 22 1622, Opechancanogh’s plan was put in action, and all along the James River, Powhatan warriors massacred English settlers, sometimes wiping out entire towns, leaving 347 colonists dead. Jamestown was actually spared from the attacks thanks to a native named Chanco who forewarned Jamestown, giving them time to prepare. The next year, colonists William Tucker and John Potts sought revenge by tricking the Powhatan into a phony truce where they toasted with poison-laced alcohol, killing around 100 Powhatan and making another hundred ill. Throughout the next decade, the second war raged on much as it did before 1632, when both sides agreed to an uneasy truce.
1628 depiction of Powhatan warriors killing colonists in the 1622 massacre
It’s during the Second Anglo-Powhatan war, in 1624, that Virginia was transferred from the authority of the London company to the English government, becoming a proper colony, although in the following decades the crown cut lands off from Virginia to create new colonies such as Maryland and Carolina. After 12 years of peace, Opechancanough, wanting to restore his empire to it’s former glory, decided to wage one last war on the English. On March 18, 1844, Opechancanough waged another series of surprise attacks, killing over 500 colonists, which, although a larger number than had been killed in the 1622 strikes, was a smaller percentage of the population (10% as opposed to ~30%), as Virginia had seen great population increase as it became rich off tobacco exports. Opechancanough, sticking with his old tactics, didn’t make any followup, instead waiting for the English to respond with surrender or attack. That July, the Virginians made their move, marching on nearly all tribes still within the confederacy’s borders, waging war and burning villages as they went. The war went on for only 2 years, until Virginia governor William Berkeley led his men on a siege of Opechancanough’s stronghold, capturing him and his advisors, imprisoning most of them, but choosing to execute the old chief, Opechancanough at Jamestown, where he, nearly 100 at this point, was shot in the back.
With the death of the warrior chief, all the remaining tribes under Powhatan rule broke off, reducing the confederacy back to just the Powhatan tribe, with the new chief, Necotowance, swearing vassalage to England, the confederacy would later fall and become part of Virginia in 1684. In order to try and prevent further bloodshed, the English created a border between English and Indian lands, with people on both sides needing to get a special pass from border forts to enter the other territory. In 1649, three years after the war, the mother country, England, had fallen into control of the Parliamentarians at the end of the English civil war, beheading king Charles I, and putting the authoritarian puritan Oliver Cromwell in control. Although most colonies, particularly the ones settled by puritans, pledged allegiance to the new government, Virginia was among those to remain loyal to the crown, and was regarded by the English Commonwealth’s government as being in rebellion, in 1650, parliament declared an embargo on Virginia and other rebellious colonies (Antigua, Bermuda, and Barbados), and authorized privateers to attack any vessel that broke the embargo. The civil war led to many cavaliers (royalists) settling in the colony to escape the Cromwell regime, but in 1652, the puritan Richard Bennett was made governor, and Virginia now answered to Cromwell. Despite being under Commonwealth rue for the next 8 years, when the English crown was restored in 1660, Virginia was held in high regard for it’s loyaty, being dubbed "the Old Dominion" by Charles II, a nickname Virginia has kept to this day.
In 1676, 100 years before the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Virginians under the command of Nathaniel Bacon, in an army made up mostly of indentured servants and African slaves but with others from all demographics of Virginian society, who were opposed to governor William Berkeley’s refusal to address native attacks near the frontier (Berkeley profited greatly from trade with the frontier tribes, and didn’t want to lose the income), or consider expanding westward. Bacon and his men marched on Jamestown, confronting the governor and the burgesses (Virginian colonial government leaders), forcing them at gunpoint to allow an increased military presence on the frontier, but, they failed to deliver, and once news of eight colonists on the frontier being killed came to Bacon, he raised his army up again and marched on Jamestown, burning the city to the ground. After months of violence, Bacon died of dysentery and his rebellion collapsed. Berkeley returned to power, and a new capital was built at Williamsburg, and 23 men were executed as rebels. After an investigation, King Charles II relieved Berkeley of his duties and forced reforms to be implemented in Virginia to keep the colonists happy.
The ruins of Jamestown as they appeared in 1854, long after Bacon and his men burned the city.
For the next century, things were relatively quiet in Virginia, until the 1760s, when tensions between the colonists and the British government began to boil. As the British passed acts of taxation to pay for it’s debts from the Seven Years War (known to Americans as the French and Indian War), and Virginians, notably Patrick Henry, began to denounce this “taxation without representation” as tyrannical, and dissent grew among both the Virginian government and populace, their chief argument being that since they were a colony, without any parliamentary representation, they owed no allegiance to parliament, only to the king. After the Boston Tea Party, the House of Burgesses announced their solidarity with Massachusetts, much to the dismay of governor Lord Dunmore. That August they held the First Virginia Convention, agreeing on a boycott of British goods, solidarity with the other colonies, and elected delegates for the Continental Congress. On April 20, 1775, a day after the battles at Lexington and Concord, some of the first battles of the war for independence, Dunmore ordered Williamsburg’s gunpowder supply to be seized before it coud fall into rebel hands, but Patrick Henry and his militiamen seized it. In November, with his popularity at near-zero, Dunmore fled Virginia and declared that the colony was in a state of rebellion, at this point, George Washington, a Virginian himself, was leading the Continental Army, and Virginia’s government was solidly in rebel hands. In December of that year, Virginian militias won the Battle of Great Bridge, securing Norfolk.
For most of the war’s early years, Virginia actually saw fairly little fighting, but Virginians still played a crucial role in this early stage of the war, with Virginian soldiers marching north, south, and west, to help the other colonies fend off the redcoats, as well as creating a prison camp for British and Hessian captives. On May 15 1776,the Fifth Virginia convention declared that Virginia was independent, no longer part of the British Empire, and encouraged other colonies to do the same, leading to the continental congress approving the Declaration of Independence (penned by another great Virginian, Thomas Jefferson), on July 4 1776, giving birth to the United States of America. In May of 1779, the British made a move on Virginia when Admiral George Collier attempted to cut off the state’s trade with the West Indies by capturing Portsmouth and using it as a base to attack the Americans, but this strategy ultimately failed when planned reinforcements failed to arrive. In response to the renewed assault on the state, Thomas Jefferson, who was now governor, moved the capital of Virginia further inland to Richmond in 1780, but that didn’t prevent the traitorous Benedict Arnold from successfully attacking the city, burning most of it in December.
Arnold and General William Phillips continued to attack Virginia, and the American militias were unable to fend off the British advances, prompting Washington to send General Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette to Virginia to help defend the state. Lafayette avoided any direct confrontation, fearing Arnold and Phillips’ superior numbers (7,200 to 3,200), instead choosing to join up with other generals to consolidate his forces before moving to follow General Charles Cornwallis who moved to Yorktown to make a base, and on October 6 1781, the Americans laid siege to the city, forcing Cornwallis to surrender. The Victory at Yorktown was one of the most significant of the war, as it played a role in forcing British Parliament to accept peace with the United States, and on September 3 1783, The Treaty of Paris was signed, and American Independence was secured.
1791 painting depicting the surrender of Cornwallis
“Rebelions are built on hope” is quote everyone reading this probably knows. Every member of the Ghost crew (except Chopper, probably) in many ways run on the hope of their actions - even the small ones - making a difference. Of the rebellion continuing to grow.
hope shrinks in face of adversity sometimes, yet they keep fighting. Hope can be extinguished, or snuffed out temporarily. What happens then?
When he loses hope, he loses the will to carry on fighting. We saw this with how he threw himself into drink and debauchery for his teenage years and most of his twenties. We see this again with how he’d increasingly isolated himself from the rest of the rebellion over the season 2 - 3 timeskip. Presumably, while he could use the force to fight (as he did with Maul), not being able to cook, help plan missions (since he couldn’t see the holograms), fly or shoot as well as before and more besides…
Well, he fell deep into the horrible spiraling ease of feeling worthless.
She’s defined by her hope I feel, more than any other character. From the moment we see her in A New Dawn it’s tempered by pragmatism, but it’s undeniably there. Even when individual disasters weigh upon her, she never gives up on the belief that it’s all worth it.
I’d hate to see what would push her to the point where that belief would start to waver.
Anger. This is what sustained him for so very long after the fall of Lasan.
The screams of buckheads drowned out the screams of the people under his command, and that was how he survived. Ezra helped him to a least begin to heal from that - and save every member of his specie that he could find.
Perhaps this was the moment he felt hope for the Lasat that still lived, not just for the galaxy in general.
after her family didn’t stand with her, she became a bounty hunter, called Ketsu a sister and all but dared the universe to take this last connection from her. In many ways she HURT others to try and get some feeling back into her life, after so much of she thought she knew (that family stood by you, that Mandalore took care of their own) was wrong.
When even Ketsu abandoned her she was convinced no one would ever truely care for her, no matter what lies they told you. She had to rely only on herself and in that spirit she fought the empire, in small ways - grafiti, theft and the like. She desperately wanted to be part of something bigger, but secrets remind her of the weapon she so innocently helped to design.
And thus she’s at core a rebel as well as a Rebel! A stubbornness keeps her limbs moving even when she doubts the effect of their actions.
When Ezra learnt that his parents were dead, that in some ways it was him that killed them, he took up the next mission simply because that was what he did. To NOT go on the mission would risk his new family, after all!
Combine that with his obsession with keeping his friends safe while on his dark side high and it’s clear that protecting people is what he falls back on when hope is difficult to grasp