Keep spendin’ most our lives, livin' in a gangsta's paradise.
Been spendin’ most their lives, livin' in a gangsta's paradise.


Columbia, 1930The Great Depression came to rob the entire nation like a thief in the night. Or well, most of the nation. Luckily my city was left unaffected by it. Instead the Columbia snobs pointed their fingers at the ‘Sodom Below’. They laughed like hyenas at those who were living this hell on earth. Their self-righteous asses got them thinking that the rest of America deserved this kind of punishment.

Prohibition never ended here in Columbia. No, instead the Founders just carried out the Volstead Act even more. These zealots wanted it to be made known to every damned living, breathing thing that the Temperance Movement was alive and well in the streets of New Eden. Hell, not even the ‘Sodom below’, could touch it. And especially not there, since those Sodomites ran the Volstead Act into the ground.

But nah. Not everyone in Columbia really followed the Volstead Act anyway. Not even the supposedly religious higher echelons. They snuck in the debauchery they despised behind closed doors. When the cats were away, the mice would play. And that was what went on behind closed doors.

Of course, these damn high-brows still thought they ruled the city. Tch. They were fooling themselves, and they didn’t even know it! Fooled themselves like the dips they were! No. They hardly had any control of this floating mess of a concrete jungle, not ever since Fink had gone to hell. He was as good as dead. And with him being as good as dead, all the oppressed Irishmen took this chance to put their mark on the map. They overtook Finkton and pretty much almost every God-forsaken place surrounding it.

The townsfolk knew them as The Irish Mob’. They weren’t one to mess with. They really weren’t.

Now they had a whole boot-legging empire in the works. Actually, include a bunch of other crap in that mix: Racketeering. Gambling. Loan-sharking. Extortion. Oh, and a whole bunch’a million ways to traffick people and illegal shit. The lot of them. They were nothin’ but a bunch’a fraudulent, two-bit gangsters! And they were damn proud of it.

The Mob rose from the ashes so fast, they were able to form a crime syndicate with the other colored city-folk in no time. And this syndicate was just the beginning. Columbia wasn’t New Eden anymore. Columbia was a gangster’s paradise.

Welcome the new players in town: Murder, Incorporated.

– from the audio recordings of Detective DeWitt, hard-boiled Private Eye

[A Bioshock Infinite AU where one of Columbia’s infinite universes became the above lmao]

Literally waiting for glue to dry

inbox open for general chatting

whats up? whatcha doin today? How are your pets? Do you know what you’re gonna do/wear for Halloween? Pet your pet for me, let them know that Mizu loves them.  Holidays are comin up, whats your favorite one? Any particular traditions you have or do? For family or yourself? 

Any questions for me? i unno. anything? 


“I hope people half my age and twice my age will listen to my music. I want it to live forever and for my audience to feel like they have a friend in my music.” - Hunter Hayes

inspired by [x]


“so dogs do have breakfast.” -cas probably

(inspired by cas taking crowley’s words relating to a dog’s breakfast quite literally like the precious cinnamon bun that he is)


they’ve got electric lights on strings and there’s a smile on everyone. so, now, correct me if I’m wrong. this looks like fun, this looks like fun. oh, could it be I got my wish? what’s this?

merry christmas!


Characters as Demigods
           ↳ The 100.