Tick Tock

“Might I ask you a personal question, and trust that I have your complete honesty?” Caterina said, arms folded neatly behind her back as she clicks heels along the road. Blue eyes were peering side-ways up towards Ky Summerland, one of the better employees under their employ.

 "As always, Miss Primrose.“ He said, his suit pressed to perfection.

"Do you believe that I should marry Mister Hudson?”

“Do you love him, Miss Primrose?”

 A pause lingered. “No.”

 “You are a darling person, Miss Primrose, but you and I both know that our lives will only be free of Mister Hudson’s reach when he passes on - Stars forbid, of course.  I am of the mind that love is more important than anything, Miss Primrose.  But he will do everything in his power to make sure his own interests are served.  Even if it means you lose everything you hold dear. He will make you rich and powerful.  But you must, yourself, weigh the costs of such a thing. You will never know the embrace of a lover but by closed doors.  Star-crossed are the lovers who exist in the shadow of a powerful man.”

She was silent for a long moment, retracing what he was saying. “I’m in this terrible predicament, you see. I use to not care for love, I had much bigger things in mind: success, coin, fame, luxury. And now, well, now I’ve gotten everything I've ever dreamed of and I wish for reality. I wish for simpler things, like partnership. To be cared for, to be loved. I’m terribly lonesome, Mister Summerland.”

Ky muttered kindly to her, though his words were disheartening, “This is the gilded nature of such temporal things, such as luxury, Miss Primrose.  It has a terrible cost.  You know the dirt of this Company, Miss Primrose.  And of the importance of reputation to a man such as him.  He would have you disappear on a lavish adventure, only to die a tragic death to the Horde, rather than let slip that you did not love him.  You know this.  Each sordid meeting is a gamble with certain and painful death.  I… know this all too well.  And, in my opinion, every second I had with…” he hesitated. “With him… was a privilege. I’d do it again.”

“So what are you implying, Mister Summerland? I’m already trapped?”

“I think you know the answer to that question, Miss Primrose. I think you have, all this time.”

@mister-summerland

@braxtonhudson

You guys are such beautiful writers

Tick Tock

[[ Music ]]

Annabelle sat at her brother’s bedside, the goblin gramophone purring out the lilting jazz that she had bought out of Karazhan.  Her finger tapped on the ivory cigarette holder, and her lips remained pulled into a taut frown.  It was only when she heard the whet coughs from the bedridden man did she stand up and set the cigarette in the ceramic tray, moving over to slide the porcelain bowl up to his lips.  Brackish bile and blood poured from his lungs, and as he wheezed, she dabbed his forehead with a dampened cloth.

It was an improvement.  A night and day improvement compared to how she had shown him to Mister Summerland.  It was only by the doctor’s good graces that her brother was even alive, and she was certain of it.

“Annie,” he mumbled, his tone gravelly, and she hushed him gently.  Connor gave her a tired glare, none-too-pleased with being shushed in his own bed, although he fell silent.  She knew he knew his mistake, and she knew chastising him for it would be futile.

“All is well, dear brother of mine, just please focus on gaining your strength,” she crooned to him, although Connor, ever as stubborn as he was, fought to sit up.

“No, Annie, I need to start-”  He began to cough once more, violently enough to force him to gag and dip his head against the bowl.  Annabelle rubbed the back of his neck as more of that brackish bile rose up from him.

“No, you need to rest, you are incredibly sick right now, and you are lucky to even be alive.  Mister Summerland is the only reason you have had a ghost of a chance these past few days.”  Her tone was more scolding than she intended, but it did cause him to relent- and her shoulders relaxed as he eased himself back onto the pillow, grimacing lightly whilst his eyes lilted shut.

“How did I get back to Stormwind?”  He finally asked, and Annabelle shook her head.

“I’ve not the faintest idea, one moment there was a knock on your door, and the next two men in black leather brought you to the door.  I knew better than to ask questions.  They were kind enough to set you in bed.  I made up a story as to how you returned, and sewed you up the best that I could until I could retrieve the Summerland gentleman.”  She petted his hair, thinning her lips idly.  “Conny you promised me you’d not go alone- why did you go alone?”

He looked up to her, a small glint of guilt in his eyes, although he refused to answer the question.

“There was a business meeting with Mister Hudson- damn it all, I missed-”

“I attended for you.”

He looked up to her, although he wiped his eyes.

“Light damn me, I will explain to him that I took ill-”

“I already have.”

He stopped, regarding Annabelle for a long moment, before he hissed lightly and shook his head.  “He thinks it is just an illness, yes?”

“Conny you know I wouldn’t lie to him.”

Connor balked, and he tried to sit up again, although as before, he grimaced and began to cough, the words being forced out amidst them as he covered his mouth.

“He’ll think me incompetent-”

“Conny that isn’t it at all- in fact when he asked why I was vexed he seemed rather concerned-”

“And you told the lot of them?”

“Of course not, Conny, my voice was only for Mister Hudson- only he and Mister Summerland know of your condition- and even after that I’m sure that Miss Grimwald and Mister Xerathi will know.  I told Mister Hudson what had happened, as I’m sure you wouldn’t have wished to lie to him either, and I think after you recover well enough you should discuss what happened with him-”

“Absolutely not, if I can’t do this on my own-”

“Connor- stop.” 

Her brother faltered, gaze snapping to Annabelle as he regarded her with a gaze akin to a spited predator.  She took a sharp breath inward, the silence between the two piercing the room like a blade and her fingertips plucked the cigarette and its holder up from the ashtray, taking in a slow drag, before exhaling the plume of smoke.

“It’s already done, Mister Hudson wants information on Father.”

She looked to Connor and as she watched him wilt, the blossoming sympathy gripped at her throat.  Her hand reached out to rest on his shoulder.  After another long moment of silence, she offered him a smile.

“Why not let your new family help you stamp out the old.  It will be the boldest way to send Father a very clear message.  I’m sure you know what that is.”

Connor closed his eyes, staring at the bowl on his lap.  He took a deep breath.

“We are no longer his puppets anymore.”

Keep reading

An Offer in Red

To the Esteemed Master Braxton Hudson,

I write to you to pose a proclamation. As of late, it has been easy to make note of the vast amount of refugees fleeing the Horde’s crusade in the West, as well as the increase hostility between the Alliance and Horde here, in the Kingdoms.

I am seeking to establish a haven, deep in the mountains of the Hinterlands for those so displaced. Be they Elf, or man.

I ask for your assistance in accomplishing this goal. I hear of your company’s excellence in deliveries, guardsman-ship, as well as your own reputation for business.

I would ask to meet with you at your own estate in wherever it is you call home, that we might discuss the possibilities of such a fruitful venture.

Signed,

Olyviane Haldstan Owner of The Violet Tap

( @braxtonhudson)

✨reblog if you're accepting anonymous asks about anything✨

The Three Terrible Lessons

“I’ve learned two bitter lessons tonight, Mister Worthshire…”

It seemed as though her heavy thoughts of grief dragging down her mood was terribly noticeable. She could feel the eyes upon her, the eyes of the man which had initially offered the cigarette – which Rickie currently stuck between her sneering teeth.

She couldn’t will herself to hold his gaze, knowing very well if she did he’d see the broken soul within through her sad eyes. That alone made her absolutely disgusted with herself. Rickie loathed this feeling of regret, of guilt. It was a crushing weight that hung off her slumped shoulders and coiled around her throat, suffocating her in the same instance as breaking her spine.

It was disruptive.

Perhaps that was what lead Connor to beckon Rickie to the Hudson Clinic, how suddenly her lack of attention had become. Perhaps that was why she could feel a heartfelt conversation was just around the corner, now that both adults had found a comfortable seat within the vacant, quiet clinic.

Keep reading

Ollie: “Oh man, one of @braxtonhudson‘s suits! Hey, can I get a–”

“No photos, please.”

“‘N I Ain’t Goin’ Back Again.”

[ Warning of extreme violence, gore and trauma. ]

Keep reading

THANK YOU

We from Hudson Shipping Company send a HUGE thank you to the community for showing up tonight! We had 50+ people come out tonight to have a good time and support fellow Rpers and it was such a blast. Thank you for all of you that commended the little aspects that went into the event, thank you for just being there and RPing in general.

I also want to thank @mremaknu for roleplaying our concessions, and being so enthusiastic about everything with me for the past two weeks.

Special thank you to @the-cleaner-wra for taking some weight off my shoulders in hosting this event and handling announcements as well as helping Leon with concessions when he needed it!

And thank you to my guild for doing everything I needed you guys to do in an efficient manner. You guys tapped each other out on shifts so everyone could enjoy and filled in any roles I needed you to. You certainly made everything possible for me. 

And even though I was throwing this party in your character’s honor and didn’t want you to have to step in to handle anything, thank you to @braxtonhudson for making some decisions for me when I got too stressed and needed help making them!!!

Another BIGGEST thank you to just all of you guys in the community. We even had RPer from OTHER servers join in on our fun! Tonight was a big success and I’m really excited to have met new faces and seen friendly ones!

Till next time :D

Medieval Wargear Masterpost

I’ve seen a few of these sorts of things bouncing around Tumblr - mostly for the benefit of writers, i imagine - but they seem to mostly be made by other writers, or other people with only a passing knowledge of such things. 

Either way, they could be better, and i hope the following is more comprehensive, even if i keep it fairly brief.

This will be divided into two categories - weapons and armour - with four general subcategories in each. It’s difficult to cram centuries of warfare and thousands of weapon/armour variants into eight broad “boxes”, so bear with me. Note: This list does not contain ranged/missile weapons, shields, etc. I can do a further post about those if this one proves popular.

~~~WEAPONS OVERVIEW~~~

Swords:

Axes:

(Note: diagram is of a wood-cutting axe, which is slightly different to a war axe, but general components are the same).

Bludgeons (Hammers, Maces, etc.):

(Sorry about the lack of labels)

Polearms (Spears, Pikes, Halberds, Billhooks, etc):

~~~ARMOUR OVERVIEW~~~

(This will stick to a brief overview of general armour types; an overview of armour components can be found here)

Leather/Padding:

Mail (or Chainmail):

Scale/Segment Armour (e.g. Lamellar, Brigandine):

Plate:

Gonna have to disagree with the katana part though, while they are overhyped a lot katanas are still perfectly fine swords and perform just as well as an equivalent long sword, the only problem I have with them is the lack of hand protection but like most swords they were a sidearm so it’s not that big of a deal.

And the thing about polearms is they were used by everyone no matter what their wealth is because polearms are extremely effective battlefield weapons because of the reach.

I’ve said elsewhere that this post is a couple of years old, and i confess it’s not entirely accurate. I’ve learned a few more things about weapons and armour since creating this post.

My point about katanas remains mostly valid, however. ;) But it’s worth noting that i was being deliberately flippant/dismissive for the sake of comic effect. I don’t actually think katanas are terrible; they’re just poorly-optimised for what they’re supposed to do.

Functionally-speaking, katanas are more or less on-par with European longswords or bastard swords. They are both long-bladed weapons, used as sidearms by the elite, and are generally quite versatile (making them ideal as a back-up weapon). However, the similarities are mostly skin deep. Katanas have a few flaws which European swords generally do not:

I’m sure you get my point. There are several design factors of the katana which make it poorly-suited to its intended battlefield role. It seems to be a melting pot of weapon design ideas; plenty of the design features are, by themselves, effective (such as the short guard, or the thick blade)… but the katana is not the kind of weapon which should have them.

Regarding polearms… you do make a good point. The overall category is too broad, as polearms represent probably a third of all melee combat weapons, and have many different sources, styles, and uses. As i say, though, it’s a little late to edit this post now, given how widely it’s been circulated. Oh well.

That’s for the reply, though! I always love talking about this sort of thing. =) 

Turf Wars

Have you ever just stopped? 

For the first time in weeks, that’s what she did. She stopped.

There she stood, staring back at herself between the tall frame of golden boarder. It trapped her body, her reflection. She was laced in a pink silken robe that pooled around her thighs. Her long, baby blond curls dangle. Pushing the taunt drapes fully back over her shoulders, she exposed her neck, her collarbone, and the way it exposed itself when she breathed. 

But her eyes. The pale blue orbs that adapted their gleam to their disposition. The reputative windows to the soul. What a lie that is. Sky kissed, sultry, flirtatious, kind, sharp, intelligent – but now? Dull. She felt blank, staring back at herself. Like an empty vessel ready to be filled with a flavor of her choice. It made her shudder. Long, dark lashes framed their half-lidded position, nearly grazing the crease. 

But her lips. The gate to a silver tongue. Rotten with lies. The rival of her eyes. Wearing a different color every day, a weapon of her greed. 

Finally, the actress breaths out slow, pushing her fingers through her hair from the scalp and back, curling her hair from her back to wrap around the side of her neck and find a home down her shoulder, chest, pooling  by her waist. 

The game was as dangerous as ever. One by one, Caterina began to pluck her diamonds from her body. Her signature jewel. She removed her earrings first. 

Hudson had been shot. It had to have been one of two. Whichever of the two lingering inconveniences performed the attack had taken this too far. There is no amount of precaution that could save them now. No words that could delay their execution. The final straw had been plucked like the passage of time - nonrefundable. 

A hand of six rings were attended to next. Banded gems slipped off her delicate, manicured fingers one by one, placed on their mannequin against her vanity’s surface.

 She use to seek only to protect herself. What had happened? Now protecting the man she took so many precautions to escape, to protect herself against. It took time for her realize trust is a two way street. That she’s better off on his team. She could see him starting to trust her, to open himself more to her. It felt rewarding, to not have to lie to someone. 

The other hand was stripped of its jewels, her bracelets and rings slipping from the limb. 

She remembered shaking, the feeling of adrenaline and danger pumping through the veins of her form. She saw some of the suits crowd around Braxton, quick, protective. Then she, before she had time to realize, was pinned between two of their employees and a wall. Then she saw him, atop the tower across the canal - straight ahead and up. A Ren’dorei behind a large rifle aimed at Mister Hudson. He was far, she wasn’t able to make out details  - but he wore no mask. His frame muscular yet smaller than a Kal’dorei. Mister Kellis told her to stay low.

The beauty stared at herself, her arms and fingers felt strange nude. This was the reflection of the woman that made heart’s throb. And she was changing. From the inside out, she was molding - all because of Braxton Hudson. Success leaked from her person, she learned how to play the game better, how to act better. It developed a reputation for her. So much so that the head of a particular group of assassins told her himself how untouchable she is. You do not shoot the albino deer when coming across it in the hunt.

The bullet went through Braxton Hudson’s shoulder, but two shots were fired that night.

The literal and the emotional. All at once, when the gun sounded and citizens scrambled, Caterina looked to her left. How she shouldn’t have. A ghost appeared, a skeleton. The start of her delicacy, of her humanity, of knowing what love is.

 Wylark Grindelwald. 

He’d departed with Mister Hudson on his business venture to Kul Tiras. For a year, they’d been absent.  

His eyes were different, darker, hungry. He didn’t seem to regard her with the affection he once did and that was a fatal injury of its own.

That night, later, after tending to Braxton’s wounds, he looked at her. His eyes were always so blue, but they appeared more navy in the night. 

That conversation echoed in her head, finally glancing from her eyes down to her mouth and away from the mirror. Caterina inhales slow, bringing her hands up behind her neck to unclasp the diamond necklace. She slips it from her neck, looping it atop its place holder and twisting. Bare feet skimmed along the smooth floor of Mister Hudson’s home as she brought herself to the elaborate bed at which he slept. Sound. She felt strange being in this room again at such hours. Yet, she couldn’t seem to leave him to care for himself. She’d be by his side, regulating his pain medicine, changing out his gauze, watching for infection. She would take care of him. 

{ @braxtonhudson @easteye }

To be or not to be, f*** up on whiskey, that is the question.

I’m a simple man. All I want is enough sleep for two normal men, enough whiskey for three, and enough women for four.

Elita pije na bogato

My photo

Who’s your Pappy?