#THE FUCKING NAVAL BATTLE

[takiki16]

No living being could satisfy me line Black Sails Season 3 Finale XXVIII can

[feddy-34]

just wrote an absolute essay of a comment on reddit and figured i'd repost it here.

i have done a bonkers amount of research for this one naval fic of mine. i have to know a lot about both ships and also naval battles of the early 1800s. i use zero of this knowledge irl sadly.

nelson's tactics at trafalgar are some of the most revolutionary changes to military doctrine ever made. this is a typical approach to naval warfare: the fleets approach each other in a single file line (called the line of battle) and as both lines become parallel, they exchange crossfire. after this initial skirmish, the ships turn so the line doubles back on itself and repeat the process. the line formation was beneficial for two reasons: 1) it allowed ships to signal each other. 2) you could disengage and still stay in formation. it also allowed for fewer losses of both men and ship on the losing side. now, nelson's problem at trafalgar was that he was outnumbered by the combined franco-spanish fleet. (33 ships of the line to 27, and a man advantage of 13,000). this meant the line battle would not work, at least some of his frigates would be targeted by multiple franco-spanish ships. he was also determined to obliterate napoleon's navy and favored a more destructive plan, even if it brought more risk for his own fleet.  so instead, he decided to break the line formation into a melee. royal navy gun crews were the best in the world, being drilled every single day by their lieutenants. if he could break the formation by sealing directly at the line and scatter the ships into one-on-one battles, his crews would decide the victory. closing quickly would prevent any ships from escaping and the ships in the van (front) of the approaching formation (looked like an arrow) would have to turn around and support the rear.  however, the french and spanish fleet would be able to fire at will at the british ships until they split the line apart. it was a big risk and so all commanders were informed to let all sail fly, making the confrontation as fast as possible. the order of sailing (order the ships would approach the enemy) was to be the same as the oder of battle so his fleet would not have to waste time maneuvering. it was a complete and utter departure from naval orthodoxy and the established engagement rules of both the royal navy and europe as a whole. it ultimately cost nelson his life, but it worked. britain would be the dominant power at sea for the next hundred years.

[brainrotfm]

draft title: fat cock slow sex, sukuna x f!reader

divider credits to @cafekitsune

sukuna liked you best when you were thrashing.

he had no interest in restraints, binding your hands or feet in silly straps or cuffs to keep you still, having had several lifetimes worth of entrapment and no reason to ensnare you the same, not when he was twice your size and exponentially stronger than you could ever perceive.

no, he wanted you like this, at all times - splayed out unashamedly, blubbering nonsensically, hips wriggling for friction, small fists beating at his chest, trying to spurn a moment of reprieve or relief, whatever came quicker for the little darling trapped beneath your chosen predator.

why were you in such distress?

well, because sukuna loved taking your sopping, plushy little cunt and splitting her in half, bullying the fat girth of his cock as deep as possible before… just... stopping.

every. fucking. time. you should know better by now, always getting yourself into this mess, your fault for loving the most sadistic creature known to history —

a creature indeed, as sukuna rumbles above you, able to feel the timbre against the backs of your legs where they sat flush against his broad chest. his growling earned him a pitiful whimper in return, body twitching back and forth beneath his sheer mass, as if there was any hope for escape.

“so fucking wet for me, woman.”

“love sinking my cock into you and feeling this sweet pussy spasm around me.”

“should i sit here forever, just feeling your little cunt flex for me?”

of course, he won't move unless you beg for it. why should he? this is his favorite way to take you, after all - cunt clenching endlessly, clinging to his cock, weeping to be stuffed full of his cum whenever he pleased. he has no reason to indulge you unless you really put up a fight, and even then, he'll taunt you all the same. but beg you do, as you always do, happily the loser of this battle when this was a neverending game of his maintaining his attention.

“you sure, brat? i can always get you off just like this,” and he punctuated his point with a rough slide of his thumb over your slit, catching at your clit and pressing, “let you cum all over my cock without even moving, be my selfish little whore tonight. yeah?”

it's not enough though, never truly satisfying to finish like that, your hips twitching toward the sensation of being filled completely, satiated fully, the way that only sukuna could. only he knew how to cure the ache throbbing in your naval.

“okay little one, but you asked for it. we don’t stop til I say we stop.”

finally, finally he sat back on his heels, but there would be no mercy for you.

sukuna picked up your hips from where they rested against his impossibly large thighs, his eyes losing their focus on you. now, his gaze was trained on that delicious, glimmering cunt of yours, still pulsating around his cock, your anticipation drooling out of you. slowly, so slowly it would drive you insane, sukuna began to drag his cock back out of your perfect little heat, spit pooling in his mouth as he salivated at the sight. no point in wasting it - he spits down at the place your bodies connect, easing the pull, eliciting a twin shudder from both of you at the noise.

the problem with his misdirected focus was that it took forever for either of you to cum like this, which was the point, but you detested him sometimes for it, you really did. even if he let out the breathiest sighs of enjoyment, having you like this, that made your spine curl inside you.

when he has you right where he wants you, whimpering like a little bitch in heat, wide eyed simmering with want and unshed tears as he simply enjoys himself. inching himself out, and there's so much of him, dragging through you until the fat mushroom tip of his cock bulged the sensitive ring of your entrance - before plunging his hips forward, fucking you full in an instant, kicking the breath right out of your lungs.

your impatience was beginning to show as your hips wriggled, your breaths slipping an octave higher as a whine passed your lips right as sukuna began the slow drag out of you once again. he sighed dreamily above you, practically purring as he grinned at the trails of tears actively staining your cheeks,

“that's it, little one, cry for me. make me cum with those pretty tears."

[the-fiction-witch]

I'm Gonna Kill Him

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Angsty Smut!

Requested:

Hello! Before I start, I just wanted to say that I love your book so much! Could you create an imagine or a smut scene from your Jack Dawkins' book where they've broken up, and Y/N visits Jack's place that led them to having a angry/makeup sex? Then, a week later, Y/N discovers she's pregnant with his baby, which ultimately brings them back together.

Warnings : angst / angry sex, cheating, slapping, spanking, choking, biting,

I didn't want to go back, I felt like I was never going to hear the end of it. 

But I want my damn book back. 

So I got myself dressed into my black and emerald dress doing my utmost to look beautiful and glamorous, If I have to see him then god damn it he's gonna have to look at me like I'm a princess. 

I finished up and headed out into town making sure I was seen, making a point to be seen by men until I reached the hospital. I headed in proudly seeing the usual bustle of nurses and patience.

"Ohh Miss Y/n, Dr Dawkins is in his room" Hetty smiled as she saw me

"Thank you Hetty" I smiled 

"He has said he didn't want you in there miss y/n" 

"I'm well aware of what he wants." I rolled my eyes as I headed up to his room not even bothering to knock simply opened the door and saw Jack lying on his bed fiddling with a coin between his fingers, he looked up and looked annoyed 

"Ohh. What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want. Where is it?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about" 

"Where is my book, Jack?"

"How should I know?"

"I left it here, I missed it when I was packing, I know you have it, where is it?"

"Why would I want your mouldy old book? I don't have it." He snapped getting up from his bed

"I know you do, you're just keeping it to be hurtful"

"Hurtful! I'm not the one who went bloody psycho !"

"PSYCHO!"

"You heard me!"

"I wasn't the one who violated the sanctity of a union"

"Ohh here we go again! I didn't violate anything!"

"You liar!"

"At least she didn't kick me out of bloody bed in the morning!"

"So you admit it!"

"Yeah fine, I admit it! does that soothe your ego princess!" 

Immediately I slapped him across the face and he didn't even flinch 

".... I will never hit a woman. But your making it really fucking tempting!"

"Ohh go on then you scrawny little shit I'd like to see you try!"

"I was a naval officer you think I can't take a little lady in a fight!"

"Officer! Like hell, you only were because you sat on the right laps!" 

"How dare you!" He yelled, "You repugnant little witch!"

I went to slap him again but he grabbed my wrist before I could throwing my arm back

"Ohh you gonna hit me with your parasol too?" He glared 

"You are an unbelievable bastard! I can't believe I-"

"You what?"

"I can't believe I even considered us for a moment!"

"Yeah well same here! I dodged a bloody bullet. I'd have spent my life stuck married to you!"

"Ohh I'd have made your life a living hell every second of it just for the thrill of it!"

"You would wouldn't you! you'd have turned me into some little pitiful house husband just to spide me wouldn't you!" 

"I would I'd have torn you down so low you'd be looking up to kiss my feet!" I yelled "And I'd have taken pleasure in it you evil man! treacherous! fuckwit!"

He grabbed my waist and pulled me into a kiss, I was so very angry with him, I wanted to slap him off me but I didn't want to kiss him back I wanted to win! I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my submission, So I kissed him with force, trying to take control, but he would not allow that so easily forcing his tongue down my throat but I argued with him even at this moment battling with him in a war of our tongues, I grabbed his shirt desperate for control but he grabbed my waist and unlaced my dress, making quick work of it given his quick nibble surgeons fingers, I didn't want him to win so I began unbuttoning his trousers, once undone he grabbed my waist and forced me down onto the bed But I grabbed his hips and forced him down flat on the mattress 

"Don't you even think about it!" He groaned flipping us over so I was under him 

"I refuse to be under such a bastard." I gritted my teeth 

"You can ride me if you wish." 

"Not on your life." 

"Open your legs, Or I'll bend you over it's up to you." 

"Maybe I'll bend you over."

"You would you little succubus!"

"Well, how else was I meant to keep up with you!"

"You always did you were a little Fucking whore for me" He growled forcing off my dress "God damn it you are an evil, conniving, little witch but god had to give you that fucking body didn't he!" 

"He didn't have to make you such an unreasonable, arrogant, illiterate, Imbosile but here we are" I smirked clawing as his shirt 

"And we both know what he gave me to make up for that" He growled pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and forcing off his shirt as he pulled me into another aggressive kiss I clawed down his chest almost drawing blood as he forced me on my knees, 

"Don't even think about it, Jack!" I glared but he forced my hips up to his and dug his nails into my ass

"I'll do much more than think about it" he smirked pushing off his trousers and forcing himself inside me, 

as much as I hated it, my anger bubbling in my bones, but... I moaned as I had missed the feeling of him inside me, he didn't waste a single moment starting his fast and angsty thrusts, pounding into me like his life utterly depended on it, I moved my hips back trying to take control but I think it was a little late for that even so I made sure to force him into the pace I wanted which only frustrated him more, the bed creaking and squeaking, his violent grunts and groans much the sounds one would make in a fight tumbling from behind me until he began to slow his breaths getting looser 

"That all you got little boy?" I smirked moving myself 

"I. Am. Not. A boy!" He groaned grabbing my hair and pulling on it to bring my ear to his lips "Don't make have to teach my succubus a lesson!" He growled bitting on my shoulder 

"Ughhhhhh! Uhhhhh!" I squealed given his pace didn't stop his angle hitting where I needed "You whore so bad you missed me this much?!" 

"Missed you? You know what I did I missed your pussy princess I've got it just how I love it. But we wanna talk about who missed who, who came here showing off like she was the fucking queen all for her little fucking book back"

"and you caved this quickly? I thought you had more resilience than that Jack?"

"Not around you I don't" He smirked moving a hand to rub my clit 

"Uhhhhhh!" I gasped and he forced me back down onto the pillow "See I knew you missed me" I gasped 

"You can't blame me for missing a pussy I've fucked for the last two years. took a long time to get you this good." 

"Like I didn't train you" I smirked "Jack please-"

"Yeah? you need me that bad you had to come see me?" he cooed "Cause you know I'm the only person in port victoria who can make you cum"

"I can do it myself then I don't have to deal with your bloody ego!"

"fine, then I'll stop-" He smirked going to sloe

"Don't you fucking dare Jack!" I groaned forcing him to move quicker until I almost ripped his sheets as I screamed reaching my high 

"fuck you sound good like that" He groaned "I could almost put up with your shit for that noise" 

"I bet you could" I smirked forcing us over so he was down on his back 

"I knew you couldn't resist" He smirked

"You dare I will slap that smirking face of yours" I warn moving to ride him as aggressively as possible 

"UGhhhhhhhh fucking- you evil little thing"

"shut up Jack," I warn bouncing and moving mercilessly on him 

"Come on then princess make me cum" He smirked 

"I said shut up!" I yelled wrapping my hands around his neck to slightly choke him 

"UUughhhhhhhhhh!" he groans "Fuck-" He gasped his hips bucking like crazy as he buried himself inside of me so I pulled my hands back and caught my breath "Fine. I admit it. I've missed you" he gasped 

"Fine. I missed you too." I sighed climbing off him and going to get my dress but he grabbed me and pulled me back into the bed so he could cuddle me my head on his chest 

"Now you have... all of that out of your system, and have had time to pout. am I allowed to actually explain myself?"

"What's there to explain, you fucked her Jack. Plain and simple, what do you have to explain?"

"Will you listen anyway?" He asked stroking my hair 

"Fine. If you want to waste your breath."

"She has a problem"

"ohh I bet she did-"

"No. Listen. shut your mouth a while and listen to what I'm saying." he snapped "She has a problem, a medical problem, inoperable, incurable, she'll be dead within the month if not sooner" he explained quietly as he gently pets my hair "She was an innocent"

"was she? I bet she told you that." I said back almost in a whisper 

"Y/n. I swear to you, she told me, in confidence that she was an innocent, given the state of her condition she accepted her death and had began to make arrangements for the future,"

"And where do you come into all this?"

"I'm her doctor. I've been treating her. She asked me to... she said of all the things in this world that she will miss, she wanted to feel the touch of a man just once in her life." He whispered "So I did, Yes I fucked her. Should I have done it... I don't know. But do I regret it? No. would I do it again, I frankly don't know. I'm not sure I would If I'd have known I'd lose you because of it."

"Why you? She could have asked many, barely a man in Port Victoria that wouldn't want to fuck a virgin."

"Because I'm her doctor, and I was engaged. She trusted me. She didn't want to be used like some old whore she wanted to feel loved, and she knew she could trust me because I'm her doctor, and she wouldn't leave a man utterly in love with her behind, because she knew I loved you."

"Is that true?"

"Why would I lie to you now? you've already left me."

"why didn't you just tell me that?"

"Because I fucked another woman plain and simple... you didn't want to listen and it would only dig myself deeper if I did" 

"...it wasn't what you did Jack."

"No?"

"No. I just wish you'd have told me first."

"What?" he asked sitting up  a little 

"If you had come to me, and told me about her, about her illness, about what she had asked of you. I'd have allowed it." 

"No, you wouldn't-"

"I would. Because it is a kind thing to do Jack, if I was dying I'd have asked you too. I wish you had come and asked me, I'd have allowed it, but instead, I had to find out afterwards, from Sneed of all people not even you, that you broke my trust."

"I know, I was just worried you'd be angry if I told you." 

"I was more angry you didn't"

"That's fair." He nods "I fucked up, and I know that. it doesn't matter now... She's dead anyway."

"What?"

"Passed away this morning." 

"I'm sorry Jack-"

"It's fine. she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'm happy, I could make her final days somewhat enjoyable"

"You're kind, and sweet when you want to be" 

"I am sorry. Believe me."

"Well... it doesn't matter now does it."

"I guess not." he sighed "She didn't even call me Jack."

"No?"

"No. Just Doctor Dawkins" He chuckled 

"Did you use her name?"

"I did. I wanted to make her feel loved... But I thought of you." He whispered kissing my forehead 

"You did?"

"I did. I imagined her body as yours, her voice as yours," He said "You know you're the only girl who can satisfy me. so I thought of you"

"... I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." I sighed 

"Y/n..."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Is there, any possibility, no matter how slim? That, you and I may... rekindle even a portion of what we had before?" 

"I doubt it, Jack." I said moving to see his face "I will always love you, but I can't forgive you." 

"Could I do anything for you to forgive me?"

"No. Once trust is broken... like a delicate vase chattered, the pieces may be placed back, but you will always see the crack." I explained "Who's to say... another girl, in a similar state, asks the same of you, I cannot trust that you wouldn't do it again"

"... I understand." he nods "And I am sorry. I will always love you, you know that. No matter what you do, or say, my heart will always be yours." 

"And Mine yours." I smiled giving him a sweet kiss "I should go." I said climbing out the bed and starting to get dressed again 

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you," he said as he watched me dress 

"I'm sure you shall find ladies to spend of the evening." 

"It's not the evening that worries me, it's the mornings, and the middays, and the afternoons, and the middle of the nights, a fuck is a fuck, but when you cum it's over, with you... every moment and all of it felt like heaven" 

"Well, such are the consequences of your actions." I sighed "Now? my book."

He rolled his eyes sitting up slipping his trousers on and pulling my book from under his mattress 

"Thank you" I snapped taking it back "A reason you kept it?"

"...reminds me of you." 

"You always complained you couldn't read it. my stupid spider scrawl handwriting"

"I can't. but I know what it says... when I read it, chasing the words around the page I- I heard your voice reading it to me" 

for a moment I felt teary "Keep it." I said handing back the book 

"No." he said pushing it back into my hand and kissing my lips in a soft and gentle way "Please don't labour me with memories of you." 

"Alright," I nodded "Goodbye Jack."

"Goodbye Y/n" He nods fighting back his tears 

I took my book and I left heading home. 

I sat in bed fresh as the morning sun, unable to bring myself to rise just yet, I turned and saw my book on my bedside table and I thought of him, for a moment all our nights of enthroned passion returned, I thought of our last night together over a month ago now of angst and anger, I thought of how he held me that night, how he kissed me still with all the love that he had always done so, 

I thought of the most wonderful moments, Of how his head would settle in my lap after the day's work, I would twist and knot my fingers in his golden locks, he would press a kiss to my thighs, and I would read to him, all that I had written, and he would offer me suggestions of words that suited better, listing synonyms for me to replace the overused words. 

I forced such thoughts away and sat myself up checking the day on my calendar I knew what to expect today pulling back my covers but- they were as white as sheep. This couldn't be? I was late already. I tried not to allow panic to set in given my typical irregularities.

"Miss I have brought your you porridge with honey" The maid smiled as she came through with my breakfast but the simple smell was enough

"Out." I demanded throwing my head off my bed to upturn my stomach into the bucket I had left there, and she scurried away. "No... No this can't be possible." I forced myself up and over to my mirror pulling back my nightie to expose my stomach it didn't look any different or maybe it did... I don't know. and the memory of that night flooded into my mind, of him finishing burying himself inside me as I rode him, "No... no no no.... I'm gonna kill him..." I whined grabbing my dress and hurrying as fast as my feet could to the hospital rushing up to his room without a word. But I froze up as I saw his door- 

to think of all that had happened, How I stormed out, I'd returned once and clearly that was an awful mistake I- didn't exactly feel thrilled I was returning yet again. but I knocked and soon enough he pulled it open.

"Oh, its you. What can I do for you?" He asked fixing his waistcoat

"I need you." I told him rushing into his room

"Uhh okay" He nods shutting his door with a wicked smile "So... Shall I repeat our last night my darling?"

"No." I snapped "I need your... medical, Intervention"

"my medical intervention?"

"Yes."

"You realize patients have to wait in the waiting room you know, you can't just come up to a doctor's bedroom to get seen faster, even if it is you."

"Jack. Please." I told him fear in my voice tears in my eyes and he melted his own panic set in 

"What is it?"

"I am... so very scared Jack."

"Alright just sit down, tell me what's wrong," he said helping me to sit on his bed 

"My monthly time is late."

"Alright, well such thing can happen you have been stressed these few weeks" He explained nervously pacing around his room as I spoke 

"Over a month."

"Perhaps simple change in your cycle" 

"I have been vomiting." 

"A bad fish may have simply turned your stomach," he said his fear growing as he too was coming to the conclusion I had already suspected but he didn't want it to be true, he didn't want to believe me, 

"My waist grows... Inch by inch. Almost weekly. gaining speed steadily"

"Bloating. could simply-"

"Jack. I might be pregnant." 

"You might." He nods "It could be a million other-"

"I. Might be pregnant." I told him getting to my feet "By the grace of god I need to know." 

"I'd need to track your cycle completely, and I don't have that information."

"You had it as up to date as I did until I left and I haven't bleed since so-"

"Well, how do I know what you've been doing?" He glared So I slapped him and he adjusted his jaw a little "How am I to know who the father is?"

"You." I said and the colour drained from his skin "I have never been touched by another man as long as I have lived. If I am pregnant... It is yours. or it is gods." 

"It can't be mine. I always-"

"Not always, Our last evening together..."

"Fuck-" He gasped "I have thought of that night a hundred times, your right. I didn't"

"So, Doctor. What do we do?" 

"I need a rabbit." He sighed 

I had to return to the hospital, to Jack twice daily once in the morning, once at night and each day, for three days, and I had to drink a whole jug of water and well... expel it. and this was the final time. 

"There, Now will we know?" I asked 

"Yes. we should do" He said as he took it in a firm needle "shhh shhh there's a good girl" He cooed to the little rabbit on the table, I had since after all these days named her hoppy, and he injected her "Five minutes" he said 

"I do not understand how these things work" I sighed 

"You want me to explain?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough." He said turning to his tools a moment and grabbing a large knife 

"Jack- What are you doing!"

"Finding out" He began moving quickly to-

"No!" I yelped stopping him "Jack! that's barbaric." 

"I have been injecting her with your urine for the last three days, if her ovaries are enlarged and she has gone into heat then you are pregnant, if she hasn't you are not."

"Is there no way to check without killing her?"

"No. now do you want to know or not?" 

"There must be a simpler way."

"Yes, there is. we wait nine months and see if a baby pops out of you."

"You know we can't do that. but that doesn't mean I allow you to butcher an innocent animal"

We both stopped a moment as hoppy moved a little and began humping the blanket she sat on aggressively 

"I'd say she's in heat"

"I need to check. for sure."

"Fine" I sighed 

"I'll be quick, painless" he said making quick work of killing the poor thing before then cutting it open to examine her 

"And?"

".... her ovaries are Enlarged. Extremely so. She is in heat." He said dropping his knife on the table 

"So..."

"You're pregnant." 

"... I see." I nodded my hands settling on my stomach in absolute fear but Jack took my face in his hand and sweetly kissed me sending blood across my skin, till he pulled back stroking his nose on mine as he always used to

"This is the happiest news you could have given me."

"Happy? Jack, I am pregnant out of wedlock. My father will banish me, society will crucify me, and our child will suffer as a bastard all of its life." I explained, "What am I to do?" 

"I know exactly what you are to do. Take back my ring."

"What?"

"Take back my ring, return our lives to how they were, before my mistake, marry me by the end of the week and we, can raise our child together. As husband and wife," 

"We cannot-"

"Why not?"

"I already told my father of our cancelled engagement"

"Then tell him it was nothing but a lovers tiff. and that all is as it was." He said "I still love you, I still want us to be together, I still want to marry you. and I want us to raise our child together. Please. You cannot expect me to let you go again, I made that mistake once letting you walk away from me, I am not foolish enough to allow it again, especially not while my child grows in your womb" 

"You can not simply expect me to trust you again Jack."

"I'm not. I'm asking you to let me earn it back." He said, "Please Y/n." 

"Yes" I gasped

"You-"

"Yes Jack."

"Y/n... my darling" He cooed pulling me back to his lips. 

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

since theres a lot of discussions about shipwrecks and deep sea submersibles happening right now, im just gonna quickly recommend this video which details how caladan oceanic found the samuel b roberts.

the samuel b roberts was a destroyer escort sank during the battle off samar during ww2. the wreck was found last year and is 22,621 feet/6885 metres deep which is almost 10,000 feet or 3000 metres deeper than the titanic and is currently the deepest wreck ever found.

in the video, you see a deep sea submersible (which can go down to 36,000 feet/10,973 metres) that isnt a tin can finished up with duct tape, super glue and glittery gel pens. it is piloted by an expert and they swap out pilots every day to avoid exertion or fatigue, and they have a very complex sonar system for finding wrecks. the longest they can go down is 16 hours and they keep in contact with their ship above and have to get clearance just for half an hour more.

when they find the wreck, they look around it to ensure they can identify it and map it out as well as they can, and then head back up to shore. they then hold a funeral service for those who died and leave a wreath on the ocean surface above where the wreck lays.

while im somewhat sketched out by the founder victor vescovo, the company does important work in terms of furthering our understanding of the ocean and finding wrecks which are the gravesites of those who passed. and they are not disrespectful to those whose graves lay 22,000 feet/6700 metres down on the seabed.

and what i would like to point out is how the samuel b roberts is protected against unauthorised disturbance by the sunken military craft act. you would need a permit from the naval history and heritage command (and a submarine that can withstand all the pressure) to go see it.

which, as ive said many times in the last two days, is something that the titanic should also have protection against. there should be laws in place that do not allow people to treat a mass fucking gravesite as a tourist spot.

[mapled-penitentiary]

ice fun facts

snaps his fingers or does the 'tsk tsk' sound when he needs someones attention. yknow like how you call a cat? thats what ice does

can speak fluently in english, polish, russian, and ASL

fairly good at arabic

chronically cold. like body tempature wise hes actually warm but he always feels cold. always has an extra sweater or jacket on hand or in his car

only will talk in his voice with people he trusts. after his surgery, it hurts to talk. but for the closest around him they know his voice. mav, slider, bradley, sarah, 86ers- only ones he fully will talk with and doesn't really mind if it hurts. he loves them, so thats what he will do.

only real fuck up is when he got sent to bosnia in the 90s

autistic

has memorized pacific naval battles, this is one of his and mavs love languages

lmk if i should do more of these

[pterodactylterrace]

“The Blacks won because it’s Rhaenyra’s bloodline that continues on.”

Ok, first of all, Aegon II made Aegon III his heir. Rhaenyra was dragon chow by then. Rhaenyra wanted the iron throne more than anything else, and she only held power for 6 months before the small folk had enough of her bullshit. Six months. She managed to rule for half a year before she was overthrown, not by a usurper, but by her own people. Clearly, not a good ruler if you can’t even make it a year without getting chased out of your castle.

Second, Rhaenyra’s bloodline managed to fumble the ball two feet from the finish line. It started with Aegon the Unworthy and it ended with the mad king being overthrown just before the long night. Just one more generation was all they needed to last, and they fucked everything up so bad it put the entire world of men at risk. That… that takes skill. You have to actively TRY to fuck up that much.

After the conquest, there was noted to be one “good” king, and that was Jaehaerys. Between conquest and dance, Jaehaerys was noted as being a good, wise king. Aenys managed to have a mob trap his oldest two children in a distant castle right before he died. Then Maegor stepped in. He may have been decent if it weren’t for the brain damage. Most of the things he did before the battle on the hill were either rumors or just not that bad. He was also very against Kinslaying. Imo, one of the worst things he did was punish everyone involved in the Kinslaying in The Eyrie. Seems kind of strange he would dole out such a harsh punishment only to then kill his nephew in a very one sided dragon battle. That was the first thing he did after he woke up, though. Considering he had such a drastic change in personality, we can’t say how his rule would have been otherwise.

After Maegor’s death, Jaehaerys steps in. You know what made him a good, worthy king? Not the fact that he was a male, or could fight, or held the bloodline, or even that he rode the bronze fury. It was because he listened to the council of his queen. Alysanne was the real MVP of his reign. She did more for women’s rights than any other queen. She listened to her people. That is the mark of a good ruler. Walk softly, but carry a big stick. Know when to speak and when to listen.

People who know they have power and control don’t need to constantly remind others. They know. It’s not necessary to maim or murder people for speaking the truth, yet Viserys and Rhaenyra do just that.

When Saera majorly fucked up, they handled it. Not the way Alysanne wanted, by the way. She was sent to apprentice with the Silent Sisters just for sleeping with men while not married. Yet Rhaenyra can have 3 obvious bastards, insult the house with the largest naval force and prove to the entire kingdom that her words mean nothing, and Viserys still declares anyone who calls the strong boys bastards would lose their tongue.

Sorry, what? The Valaryons are one of the richest houses in the realm. They control most of the naval fleet. Maybe don’t make their son a cuckold?

“They had an open marriage!”

NO ONE ELSE KNOWS THAT. To the court and the small folk, Rhaenyra promised to be faithful to Laenor in front of the eyes of the gods, and she very obviously didn’t keep that vow. Why should they trust anything she says as Queen if she can’t even do something as simple as not birthing bastards? That’s what most people don’t realize in the bastard debate.

Whether you can prove it or not, the strong boys don’t look like either of their alleged parents. Like, at all. Even Aegon’s drunk ass could tell shit didn’t add up. Commoners are not going to be any different. They are going to know, and whether they can say it or not, it will still affect how they feel towards her. Can’t keep your marriage vows, why should I believe that you have my best interest at heart?

Because she doesn’t. She is a horrible ruler that lasted less than a year before the small folk rose up and drove her out. She feasted while they starved. It’s that self centered mentality that taints the bloodline and leads to The Unworthy.

Clearly no one learned about not having bastards, and this mofo decided to legitimize them on his death bed. Wasn’t going to be his problem, now was it? He died, someone else has to clean up his mess.

Hmm, not knowing how to clean up your own bastard mess, sounds familiar… oh, like Rhaenyra forcing her father to crawl from his death bed to make sure no one said mean (and true) things about her.

So I’m sorry, what were people saying about her being a good ruler? ‘Cause everywhere I look, I see another reason she should not have ascended the throne.

[gunsandspaceships]

Recruiting Peter in Civil War: a War Crime?

Today we are going to review this statement:

Tony “blackmailed a teenager to help fight his battles for him (Civil War) (which for the record, constitutes as a fucking war crime)”.

Part 1. Not a war crime: check my post about war crimes here. War crime is a crime committed during a war, by a party of the conflict.

MCU's “Civil War” was not a war. It was a conflict between a few people, that included one fight and a chase. The fight at the end of the movie between Tony and Steve with Bucky was not a part of this particular conflict, but a conflict on its own. From the government’s side, this situation was a law enforcement operation to capture a group of fugitives, where Tony’s side represented the law enforcement group under U.N. authority, not a nation’s armed forces.

The definition of Armed Forces: “the combined military, naval, and air forces of a nation”.

Source

In comics (Earth 616) it was indeed a war, but not in the MCU. That’s first.

Second, “Under the Statute of the International Criminal Court, conscripting or enlisting children into armed forces or groups constitutes a war crime in both international and non-international armed conflicts (ICC Statute, Article 8(2)(b)(xxvi) and (e)(vii)).”

Tony did not enlist Peter in the armed forces or the Avengers.

And third, “The bans on recruitment of children below the age of 15 enshrined in Article 77 of  Additional Protocol I, and in Article 4 of Additional Protocol II are also considered to prohibit accepting voluntary enlistment (P I, Art. 77 (2); P II, Art. 4(3)(c)).”

“2. The Parties to the conflict shall take all feasible measures in order that children who have not attained the age of fifteen years do not take a direct part in hostilities and, in particular, they shall refrain from recruiting them into their armed forces. In recruiting among those persons who have attained the age of fifteen years but who have not attained the age of eighteen years, the Parties to the conflict shall endeavour to give priority to those who are oldest.” (Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Art. 77 (2)).

Here we got to an actual error from the SMFFH filmmakers’ side. Before SMFFH Peter’s age at the time of Civil War was planned to be 15 (see directors’ and screenwriters’ commentaries). In SMFFH Peter’s birthday was set to Aug 10, 2001, making him 14 years old at the time of Civil War. We cannot use random date placements made by SMFFH creators to define serious stuff, and also use another movie’s filmmakers’ decisions that were made after Civil War. So we must go with the fact that at the time of Civil War Peter was 15 years old, as was stated by the creators of CA:CW.

Conclusion: Peter was 15 years old, and if he were recruited to participate in a war, it would not be a war crime. But, he also was not enlisted in the armed forces. And Civil War was not an actual war, but a law enforcement operation under UN jurisdiction. So, yes, Tony is not a war criminal. Again. Very disappointing.

If you guys have any other ideas of how to accuse him of war crimes – go ahead. I’ll check them all.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael x Tav: Coffee Shop AU Pt. 2

A/N: Continuing from this, because someone wanted Raphael's POV and I wanted to goof off instead of writing serious things.

______

She’s a Barista. How Did it Come to This?

______

As a professor of the English language and literature on the whole, Raphael has no small amount of experience when it comes to divining an author’s intent and reading subtext. Years of honing these talents allow him to translate Haarlep’s intended message: ask the barista out. 

What he actually says is, “It’s been seven months, old man, is this a joke? Skip dinner and fuck the poor thing sideways.” Which is uncouth, uncivil, and utterly par for the course for the younger man. 

“Why are you here?”

Haarlep shrugs. He’s currently sprawled out across the only sofa in the teacher’s lounge, both monopolizing the space and looking too cramped on the loveseat. Korilla rolls her eyes, leaning over his feet to pluck another paper from the pile. The University has afforded him two assistants this semester. Only one is pulling their weight. But Haarlep’s is not without use. Between himself and his assistant, he has never seen: 

Such positive class reviews. 

So many female students with a vested interest in classical literature. 

It’s frankly uncanny. 

“You’d be happier for taking my advice.” 

“Not everyone is playing ‘catch the venereal' disease, Haarlep,” Korilla mutters. Haarlep shoots her a look. Something unspoken passes between them. In the absence of words (and Korilla’s repentance), Haarlep digs their heel into her thigh before sitting up. 

“Oh, take me with you. One evening, Raphael. That's all I need. And you and your sweet barista will be happy little lambs.” 

“Aren’t you busy?” Raphael eyes the essays. 

Haarlep waves him off. “Unimportant. I hate to see you so solemn, dear. Please.” 

And unfortunately, there’s no denying Haarlep anything once they’re in full flow. Gods save them all. 

_________

Fifteen minutes into the drive, he insists on silence. Raphael is always one for a good discussion, but Haarlep is a peculiar breed. He whiplashes from topic to topic with an alacrity most find disorienting and asserts opinions so occasionally outlandish that Raphael wonders if he believes them. The smirk says he doesn’t; half of what they do is for their amusement, the little shit. 

“You must like her,” Haarlep mutters. “The cafe might as well be in a different city.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re half an hour from campus.” 

“Mmm.” 

He doesn’t like that sound one bit. Or the look his assistant is giving him. Raphael grumbles, motioning for the younger man to go ahead of him. The bell on the door chimes when they step inside, and he’s overcome with that feeling of peace.

Tav’s shop smells equal parts coffee shop and bookstore, the slightly spicy scent of old paper lingering on the air. He associates the smell with snowy mornings spent indoors, curled beneath his covers, safe and comfortable. There are seating areas and tables, yes, indicative of any metropolitan cafe. It’s the books he fell in love with. Shelves and shelves of books, of all genres and ages. You were as likely to find a history of naval battles as you were an airport bestseller or romance. 

Haarlep pulls a face. “It smells like a library.” 

“That will be the books, you troglodyte.” 

They accept the gibe gamely enough, stuffing their hands in their pockets. Haarlep scans the place with their frankly unsettling, at times preternatural, gaze, weighing every barista. They linger on Tav. “That one?” 

“How…” 

“Raphael, you are aware of what attraction looks like, yes? Do you have some cursory awareness? That girl looked at you with the stupidest doe-eyes when you walked in. It made me a little upset. Or nauseous.” He waved a hand. “Hard to say which.” 

“Your dramatics are noted, Haarlep. Find a book. I’ll order for us.” 

“Oh, good. More reading.” 

He is very aware of Haarlep’s eyes on him as he approaches the counter. It pales in comparison to the roiling feeling in his gut. The voice in his head (sounding too much like his father) screams every time he gets close. She’s too young; they’re from different worlds. She won’t look at him. If she’s polite, it’s because she’s paid to be polite, Raphael. Tav smiles at him; the expression lights up the entirety of her face. He thinks, in that moment, that she is one of the most singularly lovely creatures he’s seen. 

“Raphael!” She uses his name. Tav leans forward on the counter, beckoning him nearer. Her little friends behind the counter share a look among themselves, snickering. “I took your advice.” She points to a shelf on the left side of the store. He recognizes the book: one of his recommendations. “You were right. I couldn’t put it down. I figured others might enjoy it too. If you have any more suggestions…” 

“Of course. Of course! It’s…very nearly my profession!” 

“Isn’t that your profession?” 

He smirks, dipping into a half bow. “Among other things. You’ll find me a font of philosophy and tired rhetoric. Should it ever strike your fancy.” 

“Mmm. You do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

He thinks he hears Haarlep groan from across the cafe. Tav is looking at him, and the weight of that stare leaves him parched or hungry. Raphael clears his throat. “May I ask how you found the ending?” 

“Why doesn’t she explain it to you,” Shadowheart says, sliding a coffee to him. “Over dinner? Say six?” 

Haarlep winds an arm around his waist, resting their chin on his shoulder. “Six is perfect, my beauty. He can’t wait. Italian?” 

“Her absolute favorite. Passatempo?” 

Haarlep reaches out to shake the she-elf’s hand. “He’s never been. But he’s so eager to try.” 

It is, perhaps, the most surreal way he’s ever gotten a date. Tav stares at him in sputtering horror, her face a vibrant red. Raphael saves her, writing his number on one of the cafe’s business cards. He hands it to her. “My number. I look forward to our…” 

“...date.” She finishes, so conclusively, so resolutely, that he laughs. 

“Yes. Of course.” 

[eelnoise]

seraphim

roronoa zoro x afab!reader c/w: bloodlust, consensual bloodplay, zoro bites, you scratch, religious themes, body worship, slight breeding kink, piv sex, creampie, manhandling, praise, post-murder sex (reader and zoro just killed a bunch of marines), public sex a/n: ? idk what even to say. i like my men bloody and i like when they bloody me. this is a rewrite of a previous fic which you can find here so if ur like "ive read this b4..." its because you kinda have banner by the lovely @buggyandthebartoclub!

Zoro isn’t a religious man.

No, he finds the very notion of reverence visceral.

Though as he turns back toward you, he’s dumbstruck. You face away from him, pulling the blade of your sword deep from the torso of a fallen naval officer and watching as the light fades from his eyes. Both of you had emerged victorious after a merciless and surprise assault from a group of marines in the middle of an open town square on some island that neither of you can remember the name of, where a large statue stands tall in honor of some long-forgotten hero at its center.

The scene is heavenly, you there - surrounded by the wages of spilled blood that pools beneath your feet, the remnants of singing steel permeating the now hallowed ground upon which you stand. There’s a certain beauty in chaos, and never has Zoro felt it quite as clearly as when he watches you tear into your foes with reckless abandon. The image makes him shiver - not in fear or revulsion, but something far more primal, deep within his gut.

He’s speechless as he observes you wiping the excess carnage from your blade, a sensation akin to delight igniting in his veins and fixated on you like a hawk. It’s beautiful, truly, a stunning vision that he couldn’t even dream up. 

“Well, we took care of that little rat problem, hm?” Your words are heavy with pride and exertion, but the sound of your voice only spurs him from a daze that he didn’t even realize he was in.

Then you turn to him, visage tattered and torn and stained with crimson. Zoro’s mouth goes dry, and words fail him, tongue tied tightly in a knot that he can’t seem to unravel. You’re immaculate, and for the first time in his life he’s fighting the urge to exalt, to sing your praise, to deify you.

He mutters something that’s beyond your field of hearing as he continues to stare at you like a starved man would a feast. Zoro’s seen you wield that blade countless times, watched on as you cut down enemy by enemy without effort or ailment, but never have you looked as angelic as you do now. Standing amid a symphony of battle and gore, covered from head to toe in splattered blood that’s both yours and that of the deceased around you, the look of delight and self-satisfaction twinkling in your eyes as you grin at him from across the square, fuck, it’s all too much. 

You’re right, of course, the two of you can and did handle these sin and sinew wrapped rats with ease, but the more pressing matter is the effect that you’re currently having on his heart. Zoro takes a step forward, taking in the beauty of your face, bloodied and bruised but not conquered.

Curiously, you leer at him, head tilted in question as you sheath your sword along your back, taking note of the lack of the usual snarky remark from the swordsman. “Zoro?”

His eye flickers to yours, lips parted in what could only be described as awe. He looks at you as if you’re a muse, descended from on high to grace him with your presence, one that’s stunned him into near silence. “Yeah?” Zoro manages to reply quietly, tone raspy and voice a barely audible whisper against the breeze - a timbre you only hear from him when he’s injured or exhausted, a weak and feeble inflection that almost has you questioning if the man was actually hurt.

Zoro’s jaw visibly tightens, his one open eye alight with the same burn that he eyes an opponent with, expression twisting into one that you know all too well. The face he only makes when -

He wants you.

Your war-torn, bloodthirsty appearance has overwhelmed Zoro, the innate desire etched on his expression like a fool in a daze. Lips twisting into a devious smirk, you’re keen on taking advantage of this rare opportunity of power that you’ve been given over him, and you know exactly how to proceed. With a step toward him, you do something he doesn’t expect, something that has his nails digging into his palms.

You lick blood from your lips.

Zoro’s blood blazes, a carnal, raw emotion swells in his throat with urges he cannot fight - will not fight. Ever a man of action, he’s upon you faster than you can react. Large, calloused fingers envelop your waist, pulling you close in an instant and slamming his lips onto yours in a starved, feverish, messy kiss. The metallic tang of blood on his tongue mixed with the taste of you drives him increasingly wilder each second you stay locked together in the embrace, hastening him further into devoted bliss.

You writhe as he leaves your lips to trail down your neck, lapping up the viscous liquid that coats your flesh in his wake. Zoro is fully prepared to kneel at your altar, to partake of and rejoice in each beautiful proverb that befalls from your sweet tongue, to bathe in every hymn you bestow.

Zoro's hands roam over your body, feeling the contours of your curves beneath the fabric of your torn clothing, tracing the delicate lines of your collarbone and shoulders before coming to rest on the small of your back, holding you firm against him. He feels like he could drown in this moment, in the warmth and passion that courses through his entire being.

Zoro grins wildly, a feral expression on his face as he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the heat of your breath against his neck, and the sound of your voice washing over in melodic harmony. He wants nothing more than to revel in this moment, to lose himself completely in the intensity of the connection that you share.

“You wouldn’t believe how good ya look like this,” He growls into your skin, his chapped lips dancing across your collarbone and up to your shoulder. “I feel like I shouldn’t even be allowed to see ya. Feels…” words wane into a series of open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling the intoxicating scent of blood, sweat, and battle on your flesh, “...wrong.”

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you,” You purr, allowing a soft, pleased sigh to slide from your throat when he adds his teeth to the wet assault upon your skin, gently nibbling and grazing at you in a manner that grows hungrier and more sporadic with every passing moment. 

“We both know I ain’t much of a rule follower.” Zoro’s husky voice is hot on your ear, his warm breath sending a jolt of longing right through your nervous system. The hand low on your back begins to wriggle its way through tattered tendrils of threads that once made up your shirt, fingers spread wide as it skims up your pliant softness, tracing along your waist and up between your shoulder blades.

Zoro's touch isn’t quite tender, a clear indication of his burgeoning lust you suspect, but there's honesty, sincerity in his newfound charge. He knows that you aren't fragile, the evidence fresh and red around you speaking well enough on its own, so why stay the hand that plys the sword? 

Men fall to their hands and knees in prayer to gods they’ve never seen, begging for mercy and crying out for deliverance that will not come.

But you - he can see you, he can hear you. 

He can touch you.

Taste you.

You're divine. A paragon of a twisted and bloodied form of justice. It's you that's stupefied him, luring him into a deistic high that has Zoro practically foaming at the mouth with innate desire.

His painfully hard cock strains against his thigh with means to worship you wholly, to partake in his own ideals of perverse, distorted devotion. He breathes in your salty-sweet scent once more and groans in longing, the taste of your crimson essence on his lips makes him feel like an offering to an idol., and every drop that drips down his chin only serves to heighten his senses even more.

He looks up at you through an eye glazed over with depraved adoration, and all he can think of is how good you look, how delicious you are on his tongue, how much he wants to please you, be consumed in your immaculate presence, and to offer himself up as a sacrifice to the darker and more nefarious desire within him.

The urge to claim, to take what he wants from you and find salvation surrounded by your benevolent hold. To act upon the impure aspiration that pulsates in his mind in ways that would make even the most vileindividuals gawk. He yearns to clean the blood from your sacred, championed skin, a lust filled ritual to send you both into sacramental euphoria. 

He’s in a frenzy, feeling and touching each curve and crevice across your body while pulling you impossibly closer to him. Before Zoro can even think, he’s sinking his teeth into your shoulder, overcome with enlightened debauchery and biting down until that deathly addictive taste of your blood is fresh on his tongue once more - a testament to the depth of his obsession and the power of your shared experience.

The pain burns hot, but brief - quickly dissipating away into a cry of raw pleasure, a moan so salacious and so absolute that Zoro feels the very last of his will slipping through his fingers. He laps over the decently deep mark, his saliva mixing into the cuts like kindle to flame and earning him another woefully delightful wail of exasperation.

He thinks himself safe for the interim, that he’s pulled some sense back from the brink - until you say the one thing that shatters him to pieces.

“Do that again.”

He doesn’t deny you, and without hesitation he obliges by drowning his teeth back into your shoulder, pressing deeper into the wound and savoring the way your blood flows across his lips and into his mouth, painting his face red in the process. He grinds his hips against yours in a primitive display of dominance, while his fingers dig into your flesh with bruising force as you dig your nails into his back through his sweat and blood damped shirt.

Despite the danger posed by your actions amidst the threat of more marines, there is something undeniably beautiful about this dance of life and death. In this fleeting moment, Zoro and you find a kind of transcendence - a place where boundaries blur and limits vanish, leaving only pure, unadulterated passion in its wake.

His lips return to yours, and soon enough you feel yourself being whisked off your feet. The open air of the square leaves little room for privacy, but you know he doesn't care. Zoro walks with you in his arms, lips locked together in a messy, bloody, passionate kiss, your legs tight around his waist before he eases you down onto the lip of nameless hero's memorial upon which he plans to ravish you.

Zoro releases his hungry attack on your lips and rips the remnants of your shirt in two, leaving you bare to him as if an offering of communion. To feast upon your body, to drink upon your wine.

You gasp, wincing just a little from the shock of the fresh air upon your chest. “Zoro-” you begin, his name emanating from your breathless lungs as you watch the fabric fall to the ground around you. 

“Y’can have mine,” He replies, leaning forward to pull one of your nipples into his mouth. “After I’m done with ya.” Zoro’s mouth suckles greedily, teasing your sensitive nub with his tongue before biting down hard enough to make you squeal and arch your back, but not draw blood.

His free hand traces down your side, finding respite upon your inner thigh and squeezing tightly onto it, growling as the fresh wound on your shoulder trickles down your chest and right onto his lips and eliciting an absolutely lewd groan from Zoro as he laps it up.

He gazes up at you with an intensity that borders on madness, his eyes burning with an unbridled lust that has you keening. “Ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls between his assault on your chest, “God, I can’t get enough.”

“Then take as much as you want.”

And fuck, he does. In an instant does he pop his lips from you to slide your pants away, somehow careful enough to not rip them to shreds - something you’d have to thank him for later. Without even removing his swords from his hip, let alone his own pants - Zoro simply rushes to undo the clasps and push the waistband down enough to free his length, thick and leaking, to bounce out against your pelvis. 

You can feel it even through your underwear, warm heat radiating from what you desire most in this world at this moment. Zoro looks at you, gaze lingering on yours as he slides the fabric shielding your sex to the side and grips your hip with one hand and his cock in the other. He teases it over your slickness tantalizingly while sliding it between your folds and inch by inch are you filled so wonderfully, stretched and stuffed so marvelously full that each tense or twitch of him inside you makes the edges of your vision blur and has you wailing in pleasure.

As soon as your hips are flushed against one another, he gives you but a moment of adjustment before rutting his hips into you quickly, a rhythm so ruthless and wild that leaves you able to do little more aside from gasp out breathlessly and brave his savage ruin. You’re not even sure when your nails crept up his shirt, or when they burrow sharply into his shoulder blades until they’re etching down his back, the crescent shaped lines running his skin raw and bloody, scathing scores fueled by ferocious, crude passion.

He folds you then, one of his hands coming to grip over both of your wrists to pin them above your head as an arm forces your thigh downward. Zoro leans over you, your ankle now bouncing wildly next to his ear while he plows into you at a newer, deeper, more luscious angle. 

Skin slaps against skin in company with brazen indulgence, a foul yet righteous lament for the fallen mere feet from you. From this more cramped position, you’re all but forced to keep eye contact with him - and he’s looking nowhere else but at your face, enraptured by every sound and move you make as you squirm in his hold.

Your desperate pants mix, leaving patches of sweat to pool between your chests. Zoro’s increasing gasps and snarls of ecstasy ring loud in your ear, the sounds echoing through you like a quake and causing you to flutter around his cock. He hisses, harsh and shrill in your ear and with a throaty grunt he pulls out of you, letting your legs fall to the stone pavement and releasing his grasp on your wrists to firmly twist you by the shoulders, spinning you around and sprawling his hand on your lower back to shift you forward into an arch.

He’s sinking into you again, fingers tight and stinging at your waist and burying himself fully inside of you once more. There isn’t even a moment given for reprieve, the man continuing to fuck you as if he hadn’t even left your dripping heat and making you cry out in hypnotizing delight. 

Zoro smacks your ass, relishing in the ripple effect in your pliable flesh left in the wake of his blow. “Shit,” he exhales, adjusting his machinations of impurity to wrap his arms around your waist and lifting you from the ground, holding you in place mid-air and thrusting into you with less and less fluidity by the second. “Feel so fuckin’ amazin’, always do but god damn do you feel so fuckin’ incredible right now.”

You reach back to lock an arm around his neck seeking any leverage to keep yourself upright amidst his onslaught. You’re moaning something incoherent, words neither of you recognize due to the lust-filled haze that fills your minds, feeling the pull of release pit low in your belly as his balls slap against your clit at a rapid pace. 

Delirium bids its toll upon you, tears prickling at your eyes as the climb to your closely approaching high reaches its limit. Drool slides down your chin and onto your neck, and in an instant Zoro catches it with his mouth, once again dissenting on your flesh and gnawing his incisors into your neck - sucking and biting with brutal obsession and marking your angelic skin in devout defiance. The growing familiarity of the warm flow of blood trickling from the bruised indents in your skin makes you crack, flying over the edge with a scream of his name.

He doesn’t slow as you ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through your body, still slamming into you a breakneck speed. You twitch and twist in his arms, the hard beating of his cock keeping a state of hyperstimulation over you, the whimpers and cries of weak will and breathless joy beginning to tip him over the edge. 

The only thing in Zoro’s fogged head is his need to flood you with his spend, to pack you to the brim with his cum until it drips out of you and onto the stone below. He doesn’t even care if you’re bred full of his brats after this - if anything it would show just how he reveres you, claiming you as his own personal magnificence. 

His jaw tenses, still attached securely on your neck, as he cums. Loud groans and grunts and sighs of relief vibrate against your skin, Zoro’s dick leaking and draining into you as your walls milk him for all that you can manage. 

A few final, slow motions and he slides out of you, gently placing you on the ground and instantly rolling his shirt from his shoulders to hand it to you. “As promised,” Zoro says, a deviously weak grin on his face, moving to wipe his brow after you’ve taken the clothing from his outstretched hand. “Want me to patch ya up when we get back?”

“If you don’t mind, yeah.” You reply as you toss the shirt over yourself gently, minding the wounds that line your body as you do so.” Would rather not be asked any questions I don’t want to answer.” Zoro nods, chuckling softly before helping you clean up, using scraps of your ruined shirt as makeshift bandages and rags before he lifts you into his arms for a third time, though this one with the intention of carrying you safely back to the others - a soft apology for his brutality on your flesh, but one he knows he doesn’t need to say.

[lisaas2418]

Also gotta point out that Donald canonically fought in WW2 in the navy. The in the original Ducktales, Donald had to leave the boys with Scrooge because he was being deployed.

So no, he's not just the most powerful magic user in Disney. He's also a fucking war veteran who went through naval battles against fucking Nazis.

Honestly, no wonder NRC would be so quick to respect him. Hell I bet he and Lilia chat occasionally about their own traumatic experiences on the battlefield.

Well I'll be dammed.

Donald Duck is pumped in both battle AND magic.

Thanks for that information, just made me look at him in a different light.

Yeah he will definitly get the respect he deserves

[historia-vitae-magistras]

i’d never even considered how the civil war would affect alfred during ww1, that’s a really interesting idea. would you mind expanding a bit more if you haven’t already?

fuck yes I can expand on that. TW for historic nastiness.

Okay to prelude— I don't typically do 1:1 state/gov to character but considering the cession of the south into a separate state and the US itself is the Union, my boy is in blue. In this blog's universe there is no schizophrenia or split personality or Doppelgänger or any other representation of the south. It gutted him and he lost feeling in a lot of his usual area and it severely weakened him but he represented the United States and that means union blue. And considering the north really doesn't have all that much moral leverage on the south especially in matters of racism, it's not much of a jump. If you aren't crazy about that, look away now.

So. Trench warfare. It's as old as humans bashing each other's heads in. Defensive ditches are an archaeological feature across the applicable world. But it's the American Civil War that might hold the gold medal for largest gap between how technology designed to kill had advanced spectacularly over any innovation that might save lives. I won't say deadliest because you do have the Taiping Rebellion around the same time but a lot of that was sièges and counter sieges and river based naval engagements. But anyway— rifled artillery and direct fire techniques had changed the game and soldiers were driven underground behind parapets and sandbags. Around Petersburg especially. And it's towards the end of the war when the Confederacy is increasingly desperate and hand to hand fighting is getting more common and more brutal. Entire regiments were lost in hand to hand mêlée. And if a soldier didn't die instantly, it was off to a field hospital. Guts ripped open by iron shells, lungs hanging from the tips of bayonets, wounds so infected they glowed, limbs hacked off by a surgeon who hadn't washed his hands in six days and sepsis rot so foul someone can taste it on the air even with the mouth closed. Malaria and typhoid so fucking bad the army cots would literally shake apart from how bad men shivered when the chills aspect of the fever cycle hit. I know it's fashionable right now especially on vintage fashion YouTube to say people in history weren't disgusting but like, I've been in archives for years. Yeah it fucken was. Never was medicine so far behind the ability to kill.

So Alfred's probably died a solid dozen times half of which from shitting himself because he's probably riddled with parasites. He's been shot, stabbed, slashed. Shaken, rattled and absolutely steam rolled. And the final part of his almighty trauma is this is happening just up the river from where he was born in Jamestown. Alfred is on his belly in the earth beneath the feet of the people that bore him and then rejected him, begging his Protestant God and any of his own people listening and the very earth itself to protect him, to keep him alive as shell after shell lands around him.

When every battle is over, the dead rot in piles across the fields and trenches. The famous photos of the Antietam and Gettysburg dead are days old, you can see some of the bodies had been looted. There were so many dead and so many dying that upon its tardy entrance into world war one, the US had a more coherent body management and disposal program than any other of the entente powers. Who had already been at war for nearly four years.

So yeah, in my opinion he got ten steps into a front line trench where the British and especially the French were just causally walking on bodies, he vomited so hard New York felt California rattling around in there and said fuck it. My boy was either off to cleaner pastures like Belleau Wood or the air corps. It was too much too soon and he just couldn't keep it together in those conditions. They knew what bacteria were by WW1 and he was a burgeoning world power. So he probably only went full himbo with dysentery twice in France so it wasn't as bad as his civil war flop era but oof. That smell, the screams, pressing himself into soil that is not his own yet again is too recent and too vulnerable. He can't do it again so soon.

[andreadesantis3806]

Tyland in basically every situation in both s1 and s2 : I definitely do not get paid enough for this shit.

Seriously yall give my man a break, he had to deal with Viserys' negligence towards the naval battle in favor of the king making his 2 yr old son sip wine, watched otto hightower plot his shit, watched Criston beat the living shit out of everything that breathes, has a knobhead for a brother who also shares his face, gets bullied by a 6 yr old kid, gets bullied by Aegon, gets bullied by Aemond, is sent to win allegiance with a force that nearly decimated the Westerosi naval power, is forced to win the said allegiance with conditions that will prolly have Aemond feeding him to Vhagar, throws in the mud and forced to wrestle with a kinky Admiral, asked to fuck ALL of the 10 wives of the said kinky admiral-

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Turn-Based Lovers

Time to set another idea free.

The title is taken from an article I read somewhere, and it fired up something in me, namely that I don't think I've ever seen "turn-based" be used in a piece of fiction, aside from maybe Erfworld.

The specific scene I had in my head is that there are two people waiting in line at the market to buy apples, standing on adjoining tiles, and due to some of the metaphysics of the world, this particular turn is taking a very long time. They get to talking, because there's fuck all to do — they've used their movement for the turn and anyway are waiting for the merchant to come back — and maybe they irritate each other a little, with some prickliness of the sort that's common in romances. He mistakes her for a washerwoman because she's not in her scholar's robes, she makes some remark about the brutish military not realizing that he's a naval officer.

After the long pause while something complicated was happening somewhere else in the world, they go their separate ways, but perhaps the sourness of their initial meeting feels like a loose thread that needs to be resolved. They had exchanged names and professions, enough to track each other down with a letter, if maybe not in person.

One apologetic letter that's maybe a bit too long gets a response that's also a bit too long, and perhaps personally revealing in a way that it wasn't meant to be.

They get to talking. Most of the book is done through letters, which is another way in which they're "turn-based". He's at sea, and there's a loneliness that comes with that. Eventually it's revealed that she's not the first he exchanged letters with, and that the other woman had fallen in love with someone else while he was away, the letters not enough for her.

Maybe I just want to write an epistolary novel and the turn-based thing does not figure into it at all, which would make this a Bad pitchpost.

Right now I'm thinking that the grand finale would be a big declaration of love where one of the two holds up the turn order of the entire world in order to profess all the ways they are meant for each other, which ties into their initial meeting at a marketplace. I don't know for certain that this is worth all the setup though.

(There are tons of interesting things that you can do in a work of prose fiction where everything is turn-based though. Imagine a battle sequence where your best friend has been mortally wounded and you're helpless to do anything about it because your healing magic takes three turns, so you're just watching him die? Or imagine a horror scene where you have done all the math and understand that it's helpless for four full turns before the monster kills you? Maybe we can have our scientist/alchemist running tons of experiments that take a great many turns to complete, which maps to waiting for the soldier/sailor's ship to return or whatever.)

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

it’s 3am I woke up from a nightmare time to post abt my isat fanfic

really this is just notes abt chapter 1 of ouroboros (a not-quite postmortem if you will)

[spoilers for isat and twohats below the cut]

So if you couldn’t tell/didn’t know this fic actually takes place in the version of twohats where you lose the battle against loop! I’ve always kind of liked this version better? I think the emotional impact of loop deciding, even after having siffrin’s life literally within their grasp, that they don’t want to kill them hits so much harder for me. Also, feels a bit more realistic in the context of this fic as a sick/recovery fic. Siffrin definitely did NOT have enough energy to take on a fully-charged and pissed off Loop in their condition.

I’ll probably make a larger post about siffrins physical condition in this fic later, but in the case of chapter 1 there’s a few fun things to note. One is that siffrin’s handle on pain is kinda fucked! “Not as bad as it could have been” is pretty literal in this case. I think they’re simultaneously very desensitized to recognizing and acknowledging their pain but also prone to being acutely aware of it when it’s in tandem with their shitty mental state. When they’re Being Normal it kind of fades into the background buzz, but when they’re spiraling and can feel how close they are to falling apart I imagine it’s a lot more overwhelming and obvious.

the stars and ocean connection to the forgotten island has been pointed out before but I’m being a little more heavy handed with this fic bc. In my mind the reverence for the stars goes hand in hand with the idea of an island where the ocean has a major impact on the daily life??? The idea of stars being used to guide sailors comes to mind, but also the idea of vastness, reflections, and a “void” feeling also feel right. A lot of naval navigation tools have a lot to do with physics, astronomy, and atmospheric stuff, and given the island’s technological and scientific method of displaying the universe I don’t think it’s too far fetched to extend that to the ocean as well!

CARRYING SIFFRIN. BRIDAL STYLE. Isabeau is so fun to write????? I don’t think I expected to enjoy his chapter as much as I did. Reaaaaly leaning into Freaksabeau energy but also. I think a lot about how Isa feels has such a strong protective and comforting personality? Throughout the game it’s expressed a lot, but the fact that it comes out of his deep childhood insecurities makes it feel all the more painful… not to mention that siffrin targeted these insecurities pretty harshly! Even if Isa forgives him, I imagine that it’s very hard for him not to internalize it. He’s a coward, and he knows it, but having someone acknowledge that and show how it can hurt others and himself is an entirely different beast. Hence why Isa ruminates a lot over it during his section.

Odile is THE #1 isafrin shipper. She’s also homophobic/j

Bonnie. Boniface. Bon Bon. My heart and soul. Writing them is so fun. I know a lot of people (me included) have trouble with them, bc writing kids can be hard. Still, I have such a deep respect for their characterization that I really spent a lot of time making sure they felt right. In this case, it was acknowledging that they are!!! NOSY!!! Like many kids are!!! But not maliciously, just out of worry and curiosity! They’re not dumb either! They know that siffrin’s whole situation is fucked- maybe not the fullest extent of understanding, yes, but they seem to grasp the seriousness, even if it is through the forever school metaphor. It was also kinda important for me to show that they take their role in the party as Tonic Carryer and Chef Cooker VERY SERIOUSLY. Odile complimenting them on their foresight is feels all the more genuine that way.

I think by now we all kinda realize that. The idea of camping out in the clock tower. Where siffrin spent countless sleepless nights mulling over their sins. While maybe marginally better than being forced to stay in the house, is…. An oversight, to say the least. See chapter 5 for more context on that. It’s better, yeah but only by proxy of not having hundreds of deaths associated with it.

I’m also gonna be focusing a lot on the inter-party dynamics outside of siffrin in this fic! Because!!! The friendships of the others mean a lot to me!!! Odile and Isabeau’s friendship comes up the most in this chapter; I think Odile has a bit of an inkling about Isabeau being a bit smarter than he lets on, and even if she spends a larger portion of their interactions in game teasing him for his crush, I also think that they have a pretty close bond for Odile to feel comfortable being the one that isabeau goes to about his feelings. So I thinks he has a better read on him as a whole, and does her best to keep him from spiraling.

Bonnie and Isa also come to mind- they aren’t talked about nearly as much as I think they should be???? Like, Bonnie sees Isa as a younger sibling (which. Stares in Middle-Child Isa Enjoyer), and Isa is the other person who uses Bon Bon, which is a pretty important nickname in the context of Bonnie’s character??? They have less interactions than the rest of the party but I like to think that Isa humors Bonnie a lot and also sees them like a younger sibling which makes their whole teasing and nagging dynamic all the more realistic to me!

ah, the Favor Tree Void Space. My sweet beloved. My magnum opus of imagery in this fic. In my mind, this represents Siffrin’s subconscious connection to The Universe and wishcraft, even after the loops. Favor Trees are obviously something culturally important for The Universe (given that the wishes it grants are so powerful and that the book detailing all wishcraft rituals has a favor tree on the cover), so I thought that it would be fitting to place it here. It’s simultaneously part of siffrin’s trauma from the loops, but also a safe space, a haven offered by Loop where they can simply just. Be. At least for a little while, anyways. Also drew back to the ocean/sky imagery with the ground having some kind of water qualities.

writing about the stars, I emphasize the idea of their??? Aliveness very often. As facets of the universe, thousands of granted and ungranted wishes, an audience and plot device in one. I can’t say much on them in this chapter, mainly bc I go a little more into it chapter 3 and onwards, but keep in mind the idea of music and the chorus of a theatre production, as well as a captive audience. That’s kinda the vibes.

anyhoo- I’m tired again. Gonna try and sleep a bit more before work! toodles!

[99tech99]

A/N: Again, scene from a longer fic. Reader is with Thrawn and Krennic is jealous, but, much like little boys on the playground who pull girls’ pigtails, Krennic has no idea what to do with his emotions.

Also, I feel like this ends sort of abruptly. I know what the next scene is, and I’ve written a chunk of it, but idk, I feel like it should be separate. If you have any thoughts one way or the other, lmk!

WARNINGS: toxic Krennic (is that a warning tho? or a siren song?), angsty Krennic, jealous Krennic, toxic Krennic, manipulative Krennic, lying Krennic, slutty thots Krennic, did i mention Krennic is low key toxic?

2.5k words under cut. (is this the longest scene i’ve posted so far??)

He had forgotten to put away the carved relief. Krennic kicked himself mentally. A single glance at one kriffing piece of artwork and Thrawn would think he knew everything there was to know about a person. In anticipation of this obnoxious habit, Krennic had put away his modest collection of art before the dinner party. All but one. Naturally Thrawn was drawn to it immediately like a…fucking blue moth to a flame. Krennic was too irritated even to think of a more insulting remark.

It wasn’t even valuable, not by Krennic’s definition anyway. He wasn’t even sure what planet it was from. It was just an ancient raised carving of a battle. Krennic had merely appreciated the detail in the weaponry.

And there you were next to him. The two of you were clearly discussing the relief. You were resplendent in a backless red gown. Your hair was in soft curls, gathered in front of one shoulder as not to obscure any sight of your bare skin. Krennic hoped the front of your dress plunged as deeply as the back. To his absolute fury and acute embarrassment he felt a tightness in the front of his pants. He struggled to get a mental grip on himself.

Thrawn leaned down slightly, saying something to you in a low voice Krennic couldn’t hear. The delicate bangles on your arm sparkled brilliantly as you reached up to gently touch his shoulder. You turned to him, laughing, a dazzling smile lighting your profile. Thrawn smiled. Krennic hadn’t even been aware Chiss were physically capable of smiling. You stood on tiptoe, tilting your face toward Thrawn’s. He bent toward you a bit more, giving you a brief but tender kiss. That does it, Krennic decided.

“Admiral,” Krennic said coming up on your left side. “Enjoying the art show?”

You both turned to Krennic. Thrawn might be oblivious, but you knew he was interrupting on purpose. His eyes briefly flicked up and down your body. The front of your dress did not disappoint. It plunged practically to your naval and the floral embroidery over the sheer fabric left very little to the imagination.

“Art?” Thrawn repeated in his velvet tone. He glanced around Krennic’s opulent apartment. “I would be very much surprised to see anything here that might be classified as art.”

You scoffed and quickly took a sip of your wine to try to cover.

Krennic clenched his left hand so tightly you could hear his knuckles crack. “It’s a pity you seemed to have missed your calling as an art critic, Admiral. Will you excuse us?” Without waiting for an answer he steered you away by your elbow.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked bitterly.

“Yes,” you said genuinely. “I honestly would have never guessed it, but you’re an excellent host. I’m always impressed whenever you entertain.”

He was taken aback by the sincerity of your compliment. He had wanted to take out his temper on you. Though, upon any thought at all, Krennic realized that would backfire, driving you straight back into Thrawn’s arms.

“What did you need, Krennic?” you asked without any of your signature impatience or sarcasm.

How did you always manage to catch him off guard? He assumed you would be annoyed with him for taking you away from Thrawn. But for once you were keeping your tongue in check, and he had no idea how to respond. Could Thrawn possibly make you that happy?

“I have a critical update on Project Stardust,” he invented quickly.

“Ooh!” Your eyes grew wide. “But I don’t have my datapad or anything at the moment. How urgent is it? Shall we go to your study?”

“No, no, it can wait until afterwards. I just didn’t want you and Thrawn to uh—slip out before I had a chance to speak with you. Go, enjoy your evening. Everyone should be gone by midnight. We can talk then.”

“Oh,” You glanced back at Thrawn. Your earrings caught the light as you turned your head. They matched your bracelets. Krennic wondered if your jewelry was yet another gift from Thrawn.

“Unless your recreational plans take precedent,” he said sarcastically.

You let out a small sigh. “No, it’s just…The Chimera is deploying tomorrow. But alright. We’ll talk later.” You forced a smile back onto your face as you walked back to Thrawn.

Krennic watched for Thrawn’s reaction when you told him you wouldn’t be able to go home with him that evening.

Thrawn smiled again and shook his head as he replied to you. Perhaps, Krennic thought sarcastically, he was reassuring you he didn’t mind your sudden work obligations. You still looked concerned. He kissed your forehead. Thrawn briefly made eye contact with Krennic over your head as the two of you turned to join the rest of the guests. As usual, his face was inscrutable.

Krennic had succeeded in ruining Thrawn’s evening, possibly even putting a damper on his whole deployment, Krennic thought hopefully. Now, however, he was faced with the issue of fabricating some complication with Stardust. He pondered this in the back of his mind as he turned on his signature charm the rest of the evening.

By the time you and Thrawn were the last people left, he still hadn’t created a Stardust problem. Krennic busied himself at the bar pouring himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip. He didn’t feel like watching Thrawn tongue fuck you goodbye. He heard the door close. He looked up.

“Alright,” you said, striding toward him. You were smiling. It was happy, sincere. Krennic’s stomach lurched. Then he realized it wasn’t for him, it was lingering from Thrawn.

He finished the glass.

That dress. Always you and your dresses. Why did Thrawn allow you to parade your tits around like that? Krennic hoped you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Fuck. Maybe the whiskey wasn’t such a a good idea. He poured a second glass and downed it.

You raised your eyebrows. “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”

Krennic poured yet another two fingers and slid the glass along the counter to you. You hesitated, then picked it up. Gingerly you smelled the amber liquid and wrinkled your nose. You looked at Krennic. He had an amused expression on his face.

“Try it,” he instructed.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working?” you repeated.

“My project, my home, my rules,” Krennic replied lightly.

You had already had a few glasses of wine. But you raised the glass to your lips and took a sip. You coughed and choked. “That is absolutely awful!” you gasped. “It’s still burning!”

Krennic laughed. “I suppose it is an acquired taste.”

“If I hadn’t just watched you drink a glass yourself, I’d think you were trying to poison me!” you said, laughing too.

You slid the glass back across the counter.

Krennic gave you an appraising look. Without saying a word, he turned to the bar and selected a crystal champagne glass rimmed with gold. He bent down and extracted a bottle from the back of his wine cooler. He uncorked it expertly and filled the flute. This time he handed it directly to you.

The champagne was clear and seemed to emit a soft golden glow.

“It’s too pretty to drink,” you commented, holding the glass up to admire the bubbles dancing inside, glittering as they caught the light.

Krennic laughed. “It’s ten thousand credits a bottle, you better drink it.”

Your eyes grew huge. “Ten thousand…??”

Krennic extended his tumbler. “To the most expensive drink you’ve ever had?” You laughed again and gently touched your glass to his. “By far. Cheers.”

You took a sip. You looked at Krennic in delight. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted!”

“It’s strong,” he cautioned as you eagerly took another sip.

“Then you better hurry up and tell me the update with Stardust while I can still think clearly,” you said, a hint of your usual impatience back in your voice.

Shit.

“I’ll get my datapad,” he said and retreated to the study. He quickly copied a segment of data onto a new data card. Careful to isolate only the files he had extracted, Krennic typed in a kill code.

He sighed dramatically as he brought the datapad to the counter. “Erso messaged me earlier. There was some kind of fatal systems error at Eadu. Significant portions of the weapons calculation data were wiped.”

“Kriff! Krennic this is not an update, this is a karking disaster!”

“I know, I know. Fortunately, however, Erso was able to restore the majority from memory and his own personal files. But I think this particular equation, you had done a lot of work on.” He handed you the datapad.

You set down the champagne. “Yes, this looks familiar.” Krennic studied your face as you scrolled. “I remember doing significant work on this, but I don’t remember what final numbers yielded the proper results.” You looked at him with a pained expression. “I’m sure I can duplicate this, it will just take a while.”

Krennic almost felt bad but his guilt quickly evaporated.

You shook your hair behind you, extending your back in a graceful arch. You twisted your hair into a knot, up and out of the way. “Go get another datapad. I’ll work on the equation and you run the sims,” you instructed.

Krennic realized his mouth was slightly open and closed it. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Your hair…?” He would never be able to explain why, but watching you put your hair up so effortlessly was one of the most mesmerizing things he had ever witnessed.

You gave him a coy smile. “Secret,” you said mischievously. “Now go get me another datapad.”

He complied. He studied your profile as you kept reworking the equation. For about an hour the two of you worked. Every now and then, especially after an unsuccessful simulation, you continued to sip from your glass. You didn’t seem to notice Krennic had refilled it.

By now your hair was slowly coming undone. It hung in gentle tendrils around your face. Without thinking, he raised his hand, tucking a strand behind your ear. You looked at him in surprise. He took a step closer. Slowly he tilted you chin up kiss you. You didn’t pull away. He pressed his lips to yours. To his immeasurable elation, you were kissing him back, hard. Without breaking apart, his hands on your waist, he led you to one of the long, low couches in the sitting room. Your hands were wandering up his arms, on his chest, unbuttoning his pants. He sank onto the couch, pulling you with him so that he was between your thighs. He needed to be inside you so badly…

“Krennic!”

He was jerked back to reality.

“What?” he asked.

It was clear he hadn’t been paying attention to a word you had said. Genuine concern flickered across your face. “Are you alright? You’ve been acting very odd the entire evening.”

He didn’t know how to answer you. No, he wasn’t alright. He was never alright when he was with you. He had never met anyone so insolent and alluring. He never knew if he wanted to strangle you or kiss you. The only easy thing he could count on was the consistent contempt you had shown for him. Except tonight…

You were still waiting for his answer.

“Just thinking…We need to look into the error at Eadu. Erso said it was an internal systems error, but we shouldn’t rule out sabotage or an external hacking attempt.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. “Oh, that didn’t occur to me! Yes, it is imperative Galen investigate that.”

Suddenly you gasped. “I think I got it!” you exclaimed. You recited the specs for Krennic to input. He ran the simulation. It was successful.

You looked at him with a look of pure joy on your face. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, like you had done it a thousand times before, you held his face in your hand and kissed him.

Krennic was absolutely stunned.

You were still smiling for a fraction of a second before you realized what had happened. It was clear you had shocked even yourself. For a moment you stood frozen, your mouth open in a perfect O.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, your face rapidly growing pink. “I didn’t mean—I don’t know—The champagne—“ He had never seen you look so much as uncomfortable, let alone embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” you repeated.

Hastily, you turned to leave. Krennic grabbed your hand. His dwarfed yours by comparison. He traced a soft circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. You raised your gaze to meet his. He could see your rapid pulse in your neck.

He took a step closer. “Don’t be.” His husky voice held a low, rich quality. His eyes searched your face, flickering to your lips.

You stood rooted to the spot. Krennic caught the scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating. For a long moment the two of you just stood there, waiting, even hoping, for the other to do something.

Suddenly you jumped slightly. “Thrawn—“ you started abruptly.

“Of course.” Krennic released your hand and attempted to assume a casual air. “I’ll call a Death Trooper to escort you home. Or wherever,” he added through gritted teeth. “Good night, Senator.”

“Good night, Krennic.”

Once you had closed the door, it took all of what little self-restraint Krennic possessed not to hurl his whiskey across the room. He could have had you. There was no reason for Thrawn to expect you home tonight. You were torn. You were drunk. You were standing there waiting for him to do something. You would have given yourself to him, he was sure of it, and yet he let you walk out the door.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Forgetting he was holding the tumbler, he slammed his fist on the counter. It shattered, slicing deeply into his palm. A stream of expletives exploded from his mouth. He tied a napkin around his hand to try to stem the flow of blood.

The throbbing pain sobered him a little. Maybe it was better this way. With more time and Thrawn gone, he could make it seem like it was your idea. You had kissed him after all. Well, it was hardly a proper kiss, but still, it had been you. He was still fuming but some of his anger was slipping away. Yes, this was definitely better. He honestly didn’t know what Thrawn would do if Thrawn thought he took advantage of you when you were drunk. He had the sudden mental image of the Chimera descending on his loft apartment, weapons blazing.

While he was brooding, Krennic suddenly became aware you had left your comm on the counter. A deliciously wicked thought crossed his mind. Making a mental note of exactly where it had been left, he picked it up and extracted the data card from inside.

Turning it over in his fingers he considered. Surely you had sent Thrawn a few…discreet messages to tide him over while he was away. He had behaved himself tonight. He deserved something, if he wasn’t impaling you on his cock at this precise moment.

Perhaps this night wouldn’t be quite a total loss after all, he thought.

The Dress

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