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#dirty dockyard
swampstew · 3 months
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Everyone make sure to say thank you to @quinloki for being the little creative devil and/or angel on my shoulder that whispers naughty thoughts. A big smooch on the head and a homemade double chocolate chip brownie for them for proofing and editing and gassing me up♥
Summary: You weren't supposed to be on this island but sometimes fate decides to throw you a lemon. Here's lemonade. Hope it quenches your thirst. Warnings: spicy content 18+ only; pre-time skip Eustass Kid x AFAB Reader; dubious consent, bit of knife play but no blood, creampie, cumplay, dom/sub dynamics, kind of reads as Yandere Kid at first because he's an intimidating asshole. WC: 2.3K
Minors DNI.
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story inspired by the above gif from Cowboy Bebop
Bad luck. Dirty, rotten, awful bad luck to have been at this specific port on this specific day. Your intention was to stay until you found a ship heading in the direction you were mapping out – it couldn’t have been more than two days when all hell broke loose.
When they arrived.
Anyone who had half a brain cell in the New World knew exactly who the Kid Pirates were, and the first rule of survival was stay away from them at all costs.
No such luck.
You hauled ass as soon as the rampage started. Being in the middle of the town, you had a head start to run in the opposite direction as the pirates decimated the crowd. You intended to double back towards the dockyard so you could jump on any pitiful rowboat and get the hell outta there, sea kings or ocean monsters be damned.
That proved to be your mistake.
Perhaps you had waited too long to run back to the shipyard, or perhaps it just wasn’t your day. All you knew was that the second you peered around the junk and broken trash that littered the yard, you could immediately feel a deadly presence.
It was overwhelming, like a blanket of death trying to wrap around your figure. You weren’t sure where the feeling of being watched was coming from, you were so sure there wasn’t anybody on the dock aside from dead bodies, and yet a prickly feeling on the back of your neck told you, you’re in danger.
So you ran. Ducking between boxes and broken structures, you tried so hard to run where a small sailing boat sat lopsided off the beach. But before you could make it halfway, you felt the pull of all the metals on your person halt you briefly before you went flying backwards. Your eyes watered from the velocity, your ears deafened by the whistling of the air mixed with wicked laughter.
Your back slammed against the wooden deck of the punk ship. Your belongings were already gone, you heard the stomping of heavy boots making their way towards you as you fought to regain your breath from the impact. You could hear items being dropped as the steps grew nearer, until all you could see and hear was him.
Eustass Fucking Kid.
In his massive hand, he twirled your switchblade as he squatted over you. His golden eyes gleamed with excitement as he drank deep your adrenaline and fear.
“Do you fear death?” he darkly chuckled.
“Y-y-yes,” you whispered.
“Aye, everyone who has the misfortune to run into me usually ends up dead. Didn’t expect such a pretty little thing to dart between the wreckage. Was very sure we slaughtered everyone in the port already. So where did you come from?”
You tried to look anywhere but him and he didn’t like that. With a tsk, he firmly pressed your blade against your cheek, forcing you to look at him again.
“I don’t like asking twice,” he growled.
“I w-was in the town when I he-he-heard that your crew had docked a-and were making their way th-through the island. I-I-I thought I could outrun the r-rampage and steal a b-bo-boat when n-no one was here.”
“You thought wrong,” he sneered at you, eyes scanning up and down your body. “Shitty luck really. I got bored quickly and decided to let the crew have fun while I hung back to enjoy the peace an’ quiet. I wasn’t expecting entertainment to find me,” he snickered.
“I’m—“ you gasped as he dug the blade tip to your cheek, not quite cutting into you, maybe only really slicing the first or second layer of dermis. “I’m not a threat, ju-just please. Do-don’t hurt me. I did-dn’t want to be here in the fffirst place!”
Kid’s eyes narrowed but the sneer didn’t soften, “Who said anything about hurtin’ ya?”
That made your eyebrows shoot into your hairline, “Are you joking?”
“HAAH?!” he came down from the squat to kneel beside you, “Jus’ cause I kill people from time ta’ time don’t mean I don’t know when to separate business from pleasure,” his leer was gone, in its place a smirk that didn’t make you feel any safer. “What? Don’t think a big asshole like me knows how to fuck a lady all proper like?”
“Wh—at is h-happening?”
Kid’s smirk got wider, “I ain’t gonna kill ya because I’d rather fuck ya. Sound like a preferrable option?”
“I have a ch-choice?”
“Yeah! Inside or outside the ship?”
You choked out the sob that tried to escape your throat, letting out a low whimper instead.
“Awww don’t do that. I haven’t even done anything yet. I promise ya’ you’ll be moaning in a good way if you play nice.”
Defeated, you close your eyes and lay your head back with a nod, praying for it to be over quickly and not end painfully.
“Nooooooo I want you to want it,” Kid’s tone was taunting but with a softer edge. “It’s no fun if you’re not into it. I don’t want you to be scared of me. I want you to beg for me when you realize you can’t get enough of me.”
Your face flushed with color, brain muddled with confusing feelings. Through your thoughts your eyes wandered over his bare body. His sculpted physique was barely covered by his feathered coat and loose hanging pants. The cloth belt didn’t hide the dark red happy trail that slipped along his lower abs.
His dry chuckle brought you back, “Like what you see?”
You nodded truthfully.
“Good, I like your honesty,” he praised you, lowering the blade and brushing his knuckles softly against your skin. His hand moved down your body, not quite touching you, until you felt the blade tip against your soft torso, just below your top. With deliberately slow motions, Kid brought the blade through the top and your bra. Ruined fabric fell to the sides as your breasts spilled out, Kid licked his lips before pulling back entirely.
“I like yer tits too,” he grinned with a wink before tossing the blade off to the side, quite far from where you had any hopes of reaching it.
He pulled his belts off first, then his boots, lastly sweeping the massive coat from off his shoulders and to the floor. With fluid motions he moved your body to lay over the coat and the warmth had a calming effect on you almost immediately. His musky scent clung to the air: oil, metal, iron, aftershave – you felt lightheaded as the smell overwhelmed you, lulling you into a sense of comfort.
Kid knelt over your body once more, arms and legs caging you in between his body, leaning close until he pressed his growing erection against your hip. You let out a slight jolt from the heaviness of it as he pressed his searing hot chest against your exposed breasts, flattened beneath him as he pinned you to the deck. Slowly pressing the air out of you as you started lightly gasping.
“How about it? Wanna…fuck around? I’ll make it good for ya.”
You felt yourself nodding rapidly, bewitched by his domineering presence. He rose slightly and reached his arm between your bodies to unfasten your shorts, pushing them down and off before he unzipped his own pants. His hand stayed as he teased himself first before lifting his glistening fingers to your lips. Precum.
Without wasting a second, your tongue darted out to lick his essence.
“That’s a good pet.”
His crimson lips smashed into yours, his hands palmed and squeezed your breasts, his knees barely holding the bulk of his weight as he began lightly grinding on you. You let out a gaspy moan only to be taken by his tongue as it greedily shoved its way inside your mouth. Little grunts and whimpers spilled from your lips as Kid’s fingers danced along your body, creeping lower and lower until they crept over the waistband of your panties.
When you made no signs of distress, his hand slid over your covered mound and his painted fingers pushed against your soaked core, feeling the sheer volume of slick spilling from you. Rubbing it slowly, his fingers finally gave you relief as he pushed the pantie roughly to the side and ran up and down your slit, spreading your wetness to make a mess.
“Heh, knew you’d like me,” Kid kissed you as he slipped one, then two fingers inside of you. Reaching deep inside you to find your sweet spot. He let out a pleased hiss as your pussy clenched around his fingers as he explored you, his thumb reaching around to press down on your clit and rub circles over it. Your whimpering became higher pitched as your body threatened to succumb to the carnal pleasure he was rushing into you.
You creamed on his hand as he teased out your first orgasm, pumping his fingers as you rode the wave and stilled them when you came down.
“Did ya like that?” he asked you, and it was the first time you didn’t hear malice or mockery in his voice. You panted out a yes, surprised yourself with your answer. “Gotta do that a few times so you can take my cock.”
Fully naked, your body was covered in sweat and your own slick, and Kid still hadn’t taken his pants off. Your legs were quivering as he withdrew his head from between your thighs, panties long discarded and missing in action.
“I think you’re ready. You taste like sweet desperation.”
You nodded dumbly as you watched him stand and drop his pants and underwear, slightly stumbling as he kneeled over you. You watched his cock dangle from his position, the engorged head dripping with precum and throbbing for you.
Kissing and sucking your breasts before trailing to your jaw, he whispered below your ear, “Anything you wanna say t’me?”
You hummed in lightheaded confusion, trying to contemplate his question through the haze of bliss.
The feeling of his tip pressing against your pelvis jolted you back to the moment as it slowly dragged over you, grazing against you slick covered clit. You could swear your clit vibrated in yearning as your hips tilted for more friction. He moved fluidly enough to not give you what you want while still teasing you and leaving a trail of precum on your skin.
Clarity struck you, “P-please Kid. I want you so bad. I want your cock in me so fucking much! Yo-you can’t stop now!”
Kid chuckled, “You sure?”
“Yes! FUCK please I’ll do anything! Just split me open!!” you cry out, flustered and embarrassed.
The puffy head slipped past your needy hole and you let him slide in with little resistance. Mouth opened in pleasure but no sound coming out as you felt the thick, veiny dick pushing into you – realizing just then but not really caring that he wasn’t wearing a condom.
He let out a hum that turned into a growl as he pushed in until he was completely sheathed in your warmth. Rocking into you a few times as pleased cries tumbled from your mouth, he finally spoke.
“Anything huh? I’ll need to think about that…”
You felt him pull out until the head of his cock was just slipping out before he slammed back into you, “Anything is so broad, what am I looking for?” he spoke to himself, you being so cockdrunk you were more like a sleeve, unable to conjure an answer even if you tried.
As you came violently against his cock, he stopped his movements to say, “I know, I want to keep you. What say you?” and began grinding into you as your body spasmed from the overstimulation.
You were in too deep, unsure if you truly had a choice in the matter since the moment your back hit the floor. Still on the floor as the menace above you rocked your world repeatedly as if to point out what you’d be missing if you said no. Choice or no choice, your body answered for you as the overstimulation he drove into you forced another blissful orgasm from you.
“YYYEEEEEESSSSS!!!” you sobbed from the pleasure and pain, your fear overtaken by lust induced mania. Your hips slammed against his as you came, wrapping your ankles around his hips to keep him inside you so you could drown in the constant high. “YES I WANT THIS I WANT YOU I NEED YOU!!!!!” your voice went hoarse.
Kid let out a moan as he threw his head back, “Fuck yes, I’m glad you see it my way,” he rocked his hips fiercely against yours, grabbing your ass with bruising force as he fucked you. The sound of squelching should have been embarrassing but you were too blissed out to notice or care, on the cusp of another orgasm as he was grinding his cock against your g-spot.
“I’ll treat you good, pet,” he promised, holding you down and rutting into you before letting out his own cry. You cried out with him as you saw white flood over you and static buzzing overtake your senses. Your body shaking as he came in you and you came on him. Then you could feel warmth spreading through you, coming from where you were connected. Kid panted as he pressed his forehead into yours as he finally stilled his hips. He slowly kissed your face and lips as he pulled himself out of you.
“Just gotta make it official,” he gave you a tired but mischievous smirk.
You were too exhausted to react, hardly flinching as you felt his calloused fingers playing with the cum that was leaking out of you. He brought his dripping fingers to your pelvis and drew a ‘K.’ He repeated the motion to draw ‘K’s on your breasts, hips, cheeks, all over your body. You could feel the cum harden on your skin as it dried out while he worked.
“There. You’re mine now. Don’t you ever fucking forget it.”
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electricshoebox · 1 year
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has anyone asked about the red dead redemption grief meditation? 👀
Hi friend!! I did just post about it here, but I'll share another excerpt! This will be more along the lines of what you'd expect. Cut again for spoilers.
Charles didn’t count the days after he buried Arthur in the mountains. They drifted one into another in an aimless collection of time that meant nothing to Charles at all, and passed like the broken scenes of a dream. Bounty posters in Annesberg took him to back alleys in Valentine. He lifted boxes and guarded carriages, and took money from men whose faces he’d forget to steal jewelry and lock boxes on the road to Emerald Ranch. The further south he wandered, the less the seasons changed, and the longer the nights grew. He passed through weeks and months like a shadow. It meant nothing at all.
He tried not to think of Arthur, or risk tumbling backward into the pit of grief in his stomach and losing himself there. He tried not to think of the empty spaces Arthur should fill---the missing warmth at Charles’ back as he slept, the comment under his breath that would’ve won him a laugh, the quiet scratch of a pencil behind him as he built a campfire. But of course, every town he passed through held some piece of Arthur, some memory that ambushed Charles when he wasn’t ready for it. Arthur flying through the saloon window to the mud-soaked Valentine street, barely throwing up his fists in time as some burly local came stomping out after him. A deputy pin on Arthur’s vest glinting in the midday sun in Rhodes. Charles’ last glimpse of Arthur’s face before he marched into the open in the dockyards of Saint Denis, leading the deputies away from the boat that would carry them out to sea.
Maybe this was all that Charles would ever be, a shell of memories he couldn’t share.
How much time had passed? It could have been yesterday he was ducking behind crates at Arthur’s side, dressed in a suit worth more than he was. It could have been another lifetime. 
He couldn’t remember what even carried him to the dirty bowels of Saint Denis, the city Arthur hated. One sticky summer morning turned into another, one job blurred into the next, until he could almost believe he’d never done anything in his life but throw fights in the back alleys. All he’d wanted to do since the day he left the Grizzlies was hit something anyway. Even if he ended up taking more hits than he gave, he could still imagine it was Micah’s jaw under his fist, or Dutch’s. And sometimes, that was almost enough.  How did he get here? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
[Send me a WIP from this list and I'll give you a preview or share a summary.]
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heroine-fanfic · 15 days
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Chapter 1: The Kidnapping in Sin City
The night draped over Sin City like a dark veil, the neon lights buzzing and flickering, casting long shadows across the damp streets. Crime was the city's pulse, never sleeping, always lurking. Power Girl hovered above, her keen eyes scanning the urban labyrinth below. The city's desperation called to her—a beacon of hope in the pervasive darkness.
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Suddenly, a crackle of static buzzed through her communicator—a police scanner frequency picked up a desperate call. "All units, we have a 10-79, possible kidnapping situation at the docks. Mayor Meyer is unaccounted for, suspected abduction by unknown forces." Power Girl tensed, her instincts on high alert. Despite the risks, the potential trap laid by her enemies, her resolve hardened. A life was at stake.
-o-O-o-
Guided by her unerring moral compass, Power Girl descended swiftly toward the docks. The air grew thick with the salty stench of the sea mixed with the acrid smell of industrial waste. As she approached, her senses tingled with anticipation and dread.
Landing softly, she surveyed the area. Warehouses loomed like silent sentinels, their windows dark, the vast spaces deserted—or so it seemed. She moved silently, her every sense alert for any sign of the mayor or his captors.
But as she rounded a corner, the trap was sprung. Figures emerged from the shadows, not just one or two, but a dozen, encircling her with malicious intent. "Welcome, Power Girl," a voice sneered from the darkness, dripping with venomous pleasure. "We've been expecting you."
"Just a few of you guys?" Power Girl taunted, confident that her night of crimefighting would be over in minutes. "You creeps are nothing to me. Where is Amos!"
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"He is not here, you bitch! And he won't be here until we beat you down dirty!" said one of the hencemen from the Hands of Man.
"You really think so?" Power Girl rolled her eyes, her confidence overcame her. "Men, your ego and your arrogance is brutish and stupid! Let's get this done and over with!"
-o-O-o-
As soon as the first henceman stormed toward Power Girl with a first punch, Power Girl launched into action, her fists a blur of motion. She knocked out the first attacker with a swift uppercut, then spun to land a powerful kick on another. For a moment, it seemed she might overcome the ambush through sheer strength and speed.
But as more assailants joined the fray, her situation grew increasingly dire. A strange sensation washed over her, a creeping doubt, as if her usual luck had suddenly deserted her. Her punches missed their marks, and her movements felt oddly sluggish. The realization hit her—something was amiss, more than just a physical trap.
As the chapter closes, Power Girl finds herself grappling not only with her physical foes but with an unnerving sense of her own powers faltering at critical moments. The shadows of the dockyard seem to close in around her, her breath visible in the cold night air, her confidence shaken as she faces the unknown threat.
-o-O-o-
What would Power Girl do next as fatigue was filling her up and her opponents were closing in on her on all sides?
The next chapter... coming soon!
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babydxhl · 6 months
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“Almost everyone cracks if you push them hard enough… even if they’re innocent.”
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sharp objects sentence starters | still accepting.
Mary turns her face away from the stench of sweat, dried blood and fear, settles her gaze on the dirty window, the mid-afternoon indifference of the Gotham dockyard just visible through the dusty pane of glass. Her chin settles onto curled knuckles: The Thinker en miniature.
It's not that the situation unsettles her. She's too old and world-weary for that — this particular brand of violence has become all too mundane. But the man in the chair had been staring at her — glassy eyed, beseeching, gibbering — for almost twenty minutes, and she can feel a simmering frustration in her bloodstream.
"You want him to tell you what he clearly doesn't know, and it's a waste of my time," she replies finally. A bored note creeps its way into her words. "If you want to torment someone, be my guest. But do it on your own time if it's not gonna get us any information."
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travellingistanbul · 1 year
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Frankish or European
Pera, contiguous to Galata, and on the heights rising immediately above it, is the  Frankish or European, quarter of the city, where the Europeans, Levantines, and a great part of the Greek and Armenian population live, and where all the hotels and the foreign embassies and consulates are situated.
Kassim Pasha is a filthy and insanitary suburb in the immediate vicinity of the dockyard, off which the Turkish fleet lies at anchor throughout the year. The fine marble building standing on a plot of land jutting out into the Golden Horn is the Admiralty. Close by are the graving-docks, slips, building sheds, and workshops, where, until recently, a considerable number of British foremen, mostly Scotchmen, were employed. The large building on the hill, immediately above the dockyard, is the Naval Hospital.
Kassim Pasha
Phanar, now a dirty and poor-looking suburb, lies on the Stambul side, opposite Kassim Pasha, and is chiefly inhabited by Greeks. Its name Phanarion, shortened by the Turks into Phanar or Phener, is a diminutive of javo; (a lantern).
Phanar is the seat of the Patriarch, the head of the Eastern or Greek Church; and here is situated the Greek Cathedral of St. George, in connection with the Patriarch’s residence. Travellers are freely admitted to the different rooms of the Patriarch’s official residence, in one of which visitors are shown a painting representing Sultan Muhammad II., the Conqueror, in his state robes, handing the patriarch Gennadius Scholarius the the river Vorvyses.
The mouth of the latter, called Kara Agatch, is the point where the steamers stop. The valley of the Sweet Waters of Europe is a favourite resort of natives, especially Turks, in spring and early summer, and can be reached by water, or by carriage from Pera. The better class of people, and ladies, always drive there. Travellers desirous of getting a glimpse of Turkish life should visit the spot on a fine Friday afternoon in spring. A good plan is to drive there from Pera and return by water, or vice versa. No Turkish ladies are to be seen there in Ramazan.
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bookinghotelbg · 1 year
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Frankish or European
Pera, contiguous to Galata, and on the heights rising immediately above it, is the  Frankish or European, quarter of the city, where the Europeans, Levantines, and a great part of the Greek and Armenian population live, and where all the hotels and the foreign embassies and consulates are situated.
Kassim Pasha is a filthy and insanitary suburb in the immediate vicinity of the dockyard, off which the Turkish fleet lies at anchor throughout the year. The fine marble building standing on a plot of land jutting out into the Golden Horn is the Admiralty. Close by are the graving-docks, slips, building sheds, and workshops, where, until recently, a considerable number of British foremen, mostly Scotchmen, were employed. The large building on the hill, immediately above the dockyard, is the Naval Hospital.
Kassim Pasha
Phanar, now a dirty and poor-looking suburb, lies on the Stambul side, opposite Kassim Pasha, and is chiefly inhabited by Greeks. Its name Phanarion, shortened by the Turks into Phanar or Phener, is a diminutive of javo; (a lantern).
Phanar is the seat of the Patriarch, the head of the Eastern or Greek Church; and here is situated the Greek Cathedral of St. George, in connection with the Patriarch’s residence. Travellers are freely admitted to the different rooms of the Patriarch’s official residence, in one of which visitors are shown a painting representing Sultan Muhammad II., the Conqueror, in his state robes, handing the patriarch Gennadius Scholarius the the river Vorvyses.
The mouth of the latter, called Kara Agatch, is the point where the steamers stop. The valley of the Sweet Waters of Europe is a favourite resort of natives, especially Turks, in spring and early summer, and can be reached by water, or by carriage from Pera. The better class of people, and ladies, always drive there. Travellers desirous of getting a glimpse of Turkish life should visit the spot on a fine Friday afternoon in spring. A good plan is to drive there from Pera and return by water, or vice versa. No Turkish ladies are to be seen there in Ramazan.
0 notes
travelcamp · 1 year
Photo
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Frankish or European
Pera, contiguous to Galata, and on the heights rising immediately above it, is the  Frankish or European, quarter of the city, where the Europeans, Levantines, and a great part of the Greek and Armenian population live, and where all the hotels and the foreign embassies and consulates are situated.
Kassim Pasha is a filthy and insanitary suburb in the immediate vicinity of the dockyard, off which the Turkish fleet lies at anchor throughout the year. The fine marble building standing on a plot of land jutting out into the Golden Horn is the Admiralty. Close by are the graving-docks, slips, building sheds, and workshops, where, until recently, a considerable number of British foremen, mostly Scotchmen, were employed. The large building on the hill, immediately above the dockyard, is the Naval Hospital.
Kassim Pasha
Phanar, now a dirty and poor-looking suburb, lies on the Stambul side, opposite Kassim Pasha, and is chiefly inhabited by Greeks. Its name Phanarion, shortened by the Turks into Phanar or Phener, is a diminutive of javo; (a lantern).
Phanar is the seat of the Patriarch, the head of the Eastern or Greek Church; and here is situated the Greek Cathedral of St. George, in connection with the Patriarch’s residence. Travellers are freely admitted to the different rooms of the Patriarch’s official residence, in one of which visitors are shown a painting representing Sultan Muhammad II., the Conqueror, in his state robes, handing the patriarch Gennadius Scholarius the the river Vorvyses.
The mouth of the latter, called Kara Agatch, is the point where the steamers stop. The valley of the Sweet Waters of Europe is a favourite resort of natives, especially Turks, in spring and early summer, and can be reached by water, or by carriage from Pera. The better class of people, and ladies, always drive there. Travellers desirous of getting a glimpse of Turkish life should visit the spot on a fine Friday afternoon in spring. A good plan is to drive there from Pera and return by water, or vice versa. No Turkish ladies are to be seen there in Ramazan.
0 notes
balkansofia · 1 year
Photo
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Frankish or European
Pera, contiguous to Galata, and on the heights rising immediately above it, is the  Frankish or European, quarter of the city, where the Europeans, Levantines, and a great part of the Greek and Armenian population live, and where all the hotels and the foreign embassies and consulates are situated.
Kassim Pasha is a filthy and insanitary suburb in the immediate vicinity of the dockyard, off which the Turkish fleet lies at anchor throughout the year. The fine marble building standing on a plot of land jutting out into the Golden Horn is the Admiralty. Close by are the graving-docks, slips, building sheds, and workshops, where, until recently, a considerable number of British foremen, mostly Scotchmen, were employed. The large building on the hill, immediately above the dockyard, is the Naval Hospital.
Kassim Pasha
Phanar, now a dirty and poor-looking suburb, lies on the Stambul side, opposite Kassim Pasha, and is chiefly inhabited by Greeks. Its name Phanarion, shortened by the Turks into Phanar or Phener, is a diminutive of javo; (a lantern).
Phanar is the seat of the Patriarch, the head of the Eastern or Greek Church; and here is situated the Greek Cathedral of St. George, in connection with the Patriarch’s residence. Travellers are freely admitted to the different rooms of the Patriarch’s official residence, in one of which visitors are shown a painting representing Sultan Muhammad II., the Conqueror, in his state robes, handing the patriarch Gennadius Scholarius the the river Vorvyses.
The mouth of the latter, called Kara Agatch, is the point where the steamers stop. The valley of the Sweet Waters of Europe is a favourite resort of natives, especially Turks, in spring and early summer, and can be reached by water, or by carriage from Pera. The better class of people, and ladies, always drive there. Travellers desirous of getting a glimpse of Turkish life should visit the spot on a fine Friday afternoon in spring. A good plan is to drive there from Pera and return by water, or vice versa. No Turkish ladies are to be seen there in Ramazan.
0 notes
thyngland · 1 year
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The Evening's Tide
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A Spring evening's sunlight pierced Mauphos' purple olive trees, under which a joint encampment stood, counting hundreds of tents, carpets and rudimentary shacks meant for a temporary rest before the charge into Porpyrea at dawn. Two renowned archons decide to get some fresh air - Alyssa Qionis and Glyko Skatakis, respectively dictators of Qionia and Amphorea.
Glyko's antlers wriggled contently along with her gestures, living a life of their own, as is not uncommon of an ancestral Medouian. Alyssa presented herself with a stalwart posture at all times, shedding a slight smile of familiarity.
"It's dirty work, isn't it, Alyssa? Many of these valiant Thyni will have to die tomorrow."
"Hopefully we can minimize the losses. What's in it for you?"
"Oh my, I just want this whole ordeal to be over. After all, I have big plans for the despotess' new reign.", Glyko smiled playfully.
"Of course you do."
Alyssa sat upon a nearby rock, her gills adjusting to the incoming breeze.
"Our last census revealed the -disastrous- states of affair of our beloved country. Do you know how much fish and salt makes us these days?-", a short moment passed.
"-Right, and the Thyni clearly aren't cooperating with our mining quotas. The wealth they sit on is immeasurable - it's appaling that the late Agamena didn't take action against our lovely neighbours!"
"...You're smart enough not to poke at the hornet's nest, Glyko. What are you saying right now? You realize the Smethyngs need their materials to survive?"
"Oh, of course! I would never be so cruel towards those who are practically my kin! What I have in mind is something that could satisfy both our kind." She reached within her sleeve's mantle, rolling out a map of white parchment. It seemed to be of foreign origin, and retained some of its salty scent with it.
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[Map made by @escarava]
"Gaze upon a new world! The Luceans beat us to it, but there are ripe opportunities beyond this boorish, rocky cape! I have spent years in the archives studying our ancient epics and records - our might came from the vast lands we enriched! Surely, you see that there is no space for us here?", Glyko calmed down after her excited speech, taking a few exasperated and liquid breaths. "I simply suggest to convince the high despotess of this cause, and reclaim our glory across the seas."
"I have- I heard rumours.", Alyssa stops to ponder, clutching her cephallic claws close to her chest. "Now, on first thought I agree, but let's not jump to conclusions. Let's talk, and think this through, alright?"
"Ah, but of course! We shall plan our petition to the despotess someday else, for tomorrow - glory awaits, my dearest friend."
The two exchanged pleasantries and began returning to their respective tents, greeted by their loyal guards and adoring fans amidst the army.
An idea has spread, as Amphorea's dockyards were already set in motion to create better, sturdier ships and stockpiled goods for the journeys ahead.
Amidst a bloody conflict, a new age approaches.
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ninelie00 · 1 year
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-- 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔 & 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 - 𝑨 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒄 -- I grew up in a time where Thomas was my #1, long before my greater exposures to the world I now inhabit. The times where I could pop in a VHS containing select episodes from the first six series of the original Britt Alcroft/David Mitton productions that made a world seem so real with its model work, sense of weight, its beautiful synth-based music, dramas, and diversity of stories. When one pictures Thomas, a lot of us seem to picture that of the post-Magic Railroad and HiT eras of magical engines and baby shows that did whacky things like a snowman riding Thomas or Thomas not wanting to be stinky from Cheese. But even with the side steps of those periods, what made Thomas & Friends good was always feeling so naturally wonderful to watch. Comforting, warm, and most important: real. When I think of Thomas, I think of the Series 3 episode where Henry pulls the Flying Kipper and the sound of Henry pulling out of the Dockyard echoes on the speakers or when Thomas helps out Bertie during the wet seasons where the roads get pot holes and make traveling difficult for him. The maturity of stories, the lessons that feel like anyone can learn from them, that's what made it so special. Thomas & Friends is magical, but magical in the sense that it figuratively makes you believe in its reality. It makes these engines learn what we learn, but in the retrospect of how they could really learn such a thing. How would Thomas learn humility? Oh by messing up through not knowing enough of how to deal with heavy goods trains on hills. How does Henry learn to not be selfish about his paint work? By letting him learn through the trial of being stuck in a tunnel that the value of his work and to always ask for new coat or wash down if it gets dirty. Even at the lowest of times of the series (HiT, Nitrogen Era, BWBA) the show keeps bringing you in with those key traits even when it can get very dumb and unrealistic with bridge jumps, near melting from liquid hot magma, etc.
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whitepolaris · 1 year
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For Hunters Points, the Ship Has Sailed
In the first half of the twentieth century, San Francisco was the busiest port on the West Coast, and the Hunters Point Shipyard was its busiest repair facility. The yard opened commercially in 1867 with the construction of the West Coast’s first permanent dry dock. At the time, it was one of the world’s largest. 
Within weeks of the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, the entire shipyard was seized by the navy, and during World War II the War Department transformed Hunters Point into a vital repair base. At its peak in 1945, it employed over 18,000 workers. During the postwar years, the Naval Radiological Defense Laboratory operated there, its major responsibility being the study and decontamination of ships used in the nuclear weapons tests at the Bikini atoll. The NRDL also built a cyclotron “atom smasher” at Hunters Point and conducted top secret research on the effects of radioactive fallout on humans and animals. 
Between the shipshod documentation of the NRDL’s dirty playthings and other unknown contaminants from the day-to-day operations of a major shipyard, no one really knows the extent of the toxic mess left behind on the isolated south side of the base. The NRDL was shut down in 1969, and in 1974 the navy decommissioned the entire base. Most of the area has remained uninhabited and inhospitable ever since. 
Stories of widespread radioactive and chemical contamination as well as its location beside one of the toughest, most crime-ridden neighborhoods in San Francisco have kept the once bustling five-hundred-acre shipyard out of the public eye for decades. The entire facility has been locked and off-limits to the public for over thirty years. After a series of phone calls to various local and federal agencies, Weird California was granted night photography access to the long-deserted yard. 
Dozens of abandoned corrugated-metal warehouses and decrepit office buildings stand scattered around nameless potholed streets. Red brick dry rock pump houses, dating back to 1867, slowly decay in the fog-shrouded air. These are some of the oldest buildings in San Francisco, utterly forgotten. Giant gantry cranes loom over broken and flooded dry docks as an endless stream of airliners streak across the sky from the nearby San Francisco and Oakland airports. 
Security is tight. The SFPD and Department of Defense police maintain a strong presence at the shipyard. Inside the fence, it’s quite safe, while just outside, gang warfare run rampant. 
On the hill above the dockyard is a now empty residential neighborhood. Built in the early twentieth century, all eighty-six homes were seized by the navy for officers’ housing in 1942. When the base was decommissioned, the homes were abandoned. They have stood untouched for thirty years, slowly weathering, taking on the look of a postapocalyptic movie set. It’s spooky to wander down the middle of the desolate, debris-covered streets and hear car chases and gunfire just a few blocks away. The entire relic-strewn base is just minutes from the downtown of one of the West Coast’s largest cities. Most of San Francisco’s citizens have no idea of this place’s checkered past and toxic legacy. Many don’t know it even exists. 
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transtanium · 1 year
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Kensie Industry K-Beam - A Brief History
Big Red Dot.
Angel's Eye.
The Blinder.
Today we're going to be looking at the Kensie Industry K-BEAM cannon, the pinnacle of anti-materiel focused-light technology-- why was it invented, why is it such a rare piece of equipment, and what's with those cooling fins?
Laser rifles have been in use since the mid-80s, when the Lightgiver Prismatus glassed the blueprints for a fully-functional, albeit primitive, single-shot laser weapon into the side of a warehouse in ███████, Germany. The design was functional, although not built for human ergonomics.
Weapons companies across the world quickly set to work assembling the finest teams of engineers possible, reverse-engineering the workings of this gifted knowledge, figuring out how to make the technology compatible with more common materials and human bodies.
The Laser Wars ensued during the following years, this new breed of weapon taking on various strange shapes and configurations, dozens of strange prototypes and gimmick models briefly gracing armouries across the lands.
Among the most considered uses was antimateriel functions.
During the great munitions shortage of the early ██s, warmongers had to look for alternative tools to do their dirty work. Conventional explosives such as rocket-propelled grenades became prohibitively expensive, but with the rise of more compact power sources, and improvements in focusing-lens technology, laser firepower was easy than ever to carry.
This led to a boom in laser weapon sales and usage, utilizing many different power sources, from compact 'doll core' reactors to bound angel hearts, but there was still a lack of heavy firepower and anti-vehicle capability in these early models-- engineers were still sticking to configurations similar to those of ballistic rifles, which severely limited their engineering options.
Enter Eston Kensie, a gunsmith specializing in heavy weapons.
Eston saw the need for a manportable laser weapon capable of taking down targets like combat dolls, armoured vehicles and aircraft, and they set to work. Their first prototype was eight laser rifle barrels attached to a central cylinder, a "laser gatling cannon", but it was finnicky and prone to overheat, and lacked the capability to penetrate steel plating.
The solution came when Eston was on a walk, one summer day. They stood at the dockyards for hours, watching mechbreakers work, tearing down obsolete models for parts. The way their torches cut through the thickest iron plating on the biggest mechs so effortlessly gave them an idea.
They had been approaching this the wrong way.
This system had to provide a continuous beam of incredibly focused light-heat on a target point, much like a cutting torch.
Eston set to work with this revelation, building the first of this new prototype weapon in ████ and demonstrating it to a board of shareholders. With investment secured and concept proven, it was time to focus on refining the prototype.
Eston designed a unique system of modular cooling fins for the weapon, attachable at various points along the barrel, that could be added or removed depending on the mounting position.
He took inspiration from the rear cooling vanes of combat dolls and the wings of razor angels, maximizing surface area while minimizing square footage, patenting one of the most mathematically efficient cooling systems ever designed.
The gun's focus was provided by a set of highly-calculated lenses, shutters, and mirrors working with blindingly powerful light emitters, the nature of which still isn't fully understood to this day, even upon deconstruction of several examples.
While production was eventually started several years later, the high price tag and low interest in a new technology-- the munitions crisis having been long-solved by now-- left Kensie Industries broke, liquidating the several hundred completed examples to collectors and corporate rivals.
Kensie themselves went missing in early ████, the only evidence of their death being hundreds of unidentifiable scorch marks covering nearly every surface in their office. The original blueprints for the K-BEAM are missing to this very day.
Usually mounted on a tripod or turret, and powered by an accompanying battery, the K-BEAM can be also be manhandled by any particularly strong posthuman, and most augmented users can shoulder-fire it with ease.
Caution is advised when using the weapon-- operators are advised to wear antiflash glasses and thermal gloves, making sure to keep clear of cooling systems and keep the muzzle pointed away from reflective surfaces, lest the beam be turned back towards them.
While the weapon was initially a failure, it is considered a cult classic amongst energy weapon enthusiasts, and is still a force to be reckoned with. The K-BEAM boasts incredible capability for such an unusual weapon, and some contractors still swear by it.
Unorthodox, unwieldy, and yet beloved.
Kensie's marvel of engineering was unappreciated upon creation but soon became a sought-after tool for operatives and warlords alike for its sheer, uncompromising ability to penetrate vehicle armour, disable materiel and destroy large targets.
When you just need to put a really big fucking hole in something, damn the power cost.
Cloudcutter.
Mechmelter.
Dollpiercer.
The Kensie Industry K-Beam.
Thank you so very much for listening.
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admiraltyspride · 2 years
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Nelson 50 things
Water  Meeting his uncle at the dockyard had sounded like the best idea at the time, to be taken under his wing and shown the seas and oceans was a great gift indeed... but looking upon the world he was about to set foot on? The clear and cold waters gently lapping against the wall of the dock, repetitive yet unpredictable and as he looked passed the harbour and to the horizon, it did not seem to have an end! 
Music  It was just the right sort of warning as the strings were scraped in preparation. He would not be able to hold his partners hand in the correct position given he lacked a leading hand, so it was a swift retreat to the side of the room, away from the King’s gaze and hopefully just where he could instead enjoy the music and watch the other guests dance without judgement or worse pity!
Drink  Never too much but always just enough to land on the merrier side at dinner. Wine was the preference but beer could be just as good! He just had to remember not to mix the two ever again!
Fire  The scene was something from his worst nightmares. A ship of the line ablaze as men jumped overboard to escape the heat and the inevitable explosion. Too far away to help and himself about to be engaged in a round with another ship, he could only watch in terror as the flames crippled the ship and forced her crew to chose between burning or drowning!
Denial  There must have been some mistake? Perhaps the King did not fully understand the importance of his victory in Copenhagen? That had to be it. Unless of course he had not managed to comprehend the great risk and incredible feat he had pulled off in his name? Maybe he just needed to explain it to him properly and he and his men would have victory pay, medals and recognition for the hardest battle he had ever fought! 
Soft  There were perks to being on shore. His mattress in the City of Bath was perhaps the softest he thought he had ever had the good pleasure of resting in. Maybe it was through the efforts of dear Fanny that it seemed so. The very feeling of being cared for, to rest and recover without his failure being seen as a disgrace. Yes. He could get used to softness and care.
Belonging  It had been such a simple suggestion in his mind, why on earth would they risk an open water battle when they were out gunned? That pat on his shoulder and smile from his biggest advocate, he knew there that it was his place to be, upon the waves and with a strategy always up his sleeve. 
Quiet In the habit of waking before the dawn and venturing out onto the deck while his crew still had three to four hours of sleep meant that he could enjoy his ship in peace. It was the quiet that he enjoyed most, listening to what it was the ship had to say with each smack of the waves, gentle fumble of the sails or most poignantly the creak of her wood as she protected the crew. 
Loud A ship finding herself at the mercy of his broadside meant only one outcome. He hoped and wished that them seeing him stood in plain view was clue enough they should surrender but with their refusal and battle cry came one of his own, just a single word, “Fire!” There was nothing quite like 85 cannons firing all at once. The ringing in his ears would last a while but the struck ship? Well, she had less time to adjust, much less as the second round fired and split her side open. 
Mud Placing individual potatoes in the soft earth, one at a time, perfectly spaced out. It was like a game, the right depth, the right gap and the right size potato. The soil was cold in his hand and damp from the soaking. It clung to his skin and stuck under his fingernails but the boy still smiled as he worked. Simply happy to have permission to get dirty while doing work! 
Scar It was terrible looking! A large mark that cut his eyebrow in half and lead right the way up to his hairline! Large and unsightly! Right on his face and impossible to hide! It would fade though, wouldn’t it? Right?
Wheel Always a terrifying moment when a wheel broke free of a carriage, just the initial drop on one side and the terrible scrape for a few feet along the road. Still Nelson could only laugh as he saw the freed wheel roll passed his window all on its own. Hilarious. 
Flower Roses held such a fine scent, delicate yet recognisable. It was that smell which greeted him first as he set foot in Merton, where he would call his new home when next he returned from the war. Roses of a pale orange had overgrown the entranceway but Nelson found himself rather pleased with them. How wonderful to be greeted home by such a sight and smell. 
Tears The loss of a child was supposedly common place, but for Nelson, his second daughter barely lasted two weeks and he, so far from home would never have the chance to hold her, speak to her nor comfort her, never let her know who he was to her and she to him. He would have given his last breath for her to have taken another of her own. Tears rolled down his face in the Great Cabin, alone and rightly so for such news he would never be able to explain without scandal. 
Night There was nothing quite like a night on calm waters bathed only in starlight. An infinity Nelson was quite convinced the closest place a sailor could ever get to God while on the waters. A peace like no other to be found on earth with his crew safe and asleep below decks and himself watching over their rest, in the company of the Heavens, the wind and as ever, the great open waters of Earth. 
Orange Winter was his favourite time in the Mediterranean as it meant only one thing -- an abundance of deliciously grown oranges and other citrus fruits in the ports. No better way to guard against scurvy than with proper (and tasty) fruit to enjoy. 
Soap Castile soap truly was the best for shaving with, covering his face in the stuff was easy enough but what was the harm in a little more? Oh. Perhaps that was too much... he still was not that steady with his left hand, he should have waited for his steward...
Sun Doldrums, a curse on their own but a blaring sun might at least stave off the worst of the boredom. “Lower a sail, hands to bathe.” His swimmers and non-swimmers alike might as well enjoy the day where a battle might have snatched it all away. 
Again Shrapnel was his worst enemy, he decided. Sharp splatters of wood and metal were one thing but large blunt parts of his own ship smacking him in the abdomen? That was not something he ever wanted to experience again. 
Fight It had taken months of practice to get his left hand up to at least a similar standard as his lost right but he could absolutely give his opponent hell if they dared to come close enough to him!! 
Run When presented with an opportunity, he simply had to take it. The enemy flagship drawing up alongside the ship he was just about to capture? Well... Nelson called his men to board the enemy ship and then lead the charge across the ship and over the railings onto the next at quite the sprint. 
Short Yes perhaps he was on the smaller side compared to some or even most of the gentlemen in the room... and some of the ladies... and teenagers. Oh. Maybe he really was on the small side? 
Celebrate Another victory deserved a celebration, captured ships that would pay for proper compensation where the victory pay might not, his men could rejoice and so they should! The rum was broken out and Nelson knew they were in for a long night of singing, music, celebrations and likely a few forgotten incidents as the dawn came. 
Label Hat tax... what a stupid thing to tax a man for when his hat was part of his uniform. Still the stamp inside his silken lining at least confirmed that yes, he had paid his tax on his hat and hopefully the red ink would not seep onto his head or hair! 
Language How could it be that French was the only other language he was taught? Sure it helped if ever he needed to have his French opponents surrender and offer terms but how inconvenient it was that he could not communicate freely with his new Italian friends. French as the common tongue somehow left a bitter taste in his mouth. 
Towel Coarse fabric caught against his wounded arm, forcing a hiss from him as he froze on the spot. Would he ever heal from the blasted thing?! He checked the towel with a quick glance, sure enough it had once again ripped free the lingering and fragile skin around where he was cut, he wretched at the colour but caught himself. Damn his arm! Damn the fabric! Damn that bloody French sniper!
Fist Why would he have to repeatedly prove he was blind? Week after week to travel from Bath to London just to confirm that yes, he could not see through his right eye? What was next? Them asking to prove he had lost his right arm every week too just to be sure? He hardly noticed how tightly his fingers had curled into a fist until he felt the sting of his own fingernails against his skin. The old sailors were right, those that stayed on land really did lose their minds after so many years in one place! 
Leaves He often forgot just how green England was. Sailing back and seeing the rolling green hills that awaited them, the grand oaks and acers that stood just behind cliffs like old guardians. He smiled to himself. Ah, yes this is what he was fighting for. 
Road/path The gardens of the Sicilian landscape were something to behold, true that the pathways were all straight and rather dull but for all they passed on their walk? Such great colours and cared for so meticulously too. Maybe he could have one like it at home?
Betrayal This was a betrayal, it went against his marriage vows, his poor and dear, dear Fanny’s heart would be broken... but every fibre of his being, every stitch of his soul told him that Emma, beautiful Emma was his true soul mate. He would have to cut ties with dear Fanny. A true betrayal for his loyal wife. 
Judgement Snap decisions and good judgement was his talent, would he be punished for disobeying a direct order? Very likely, but in doing so, would it grant them victory? Also very likely. Be damned, he was not going to limp to safety or worse surrender when he could snatch victory instead, it was his call and now he elected to ignore the order, he did after all only have one eye, he was allowed to be blind sometimes. 
Breakfast That morning everything just felt odd. This was to be the most important battle of his life, if he failed all of his previous victories would be meaningless and the invasion would be inevitable, but if he succeeded. Oh, what a victory that would be! So why could he not bring himself to eat? He needed his strength and to not be distracted by an empty stomach but his appetite was long gone for the nerves. 
Difference He looked at the company that stood in the ballroom with him, perhaps two hundred or so people, all of them from great houses, noble families with wealth that would make even his eyes water if he could even truly picture it. So why was he there amongst them? Ah yes, he had earned his place amongst them in their grand halls but never truly beside them, he was a novelty but just how long would that last? They were a different breed altogether. 
Laugh There was no sound better nor more comforting for an admiral than to hear his men laugh at his joke. A serious sermon in the morning deserved a light hearted quip at its end, there was no better gift from the Almighty aboard a ship than harmonious laughter and a happy crew. 
Letter Oh how Emma’s words could set his heart fluttering uncontrollably, how he wished he could keep them safe and with him at all times, as if keeping her close despite their long episodes apart. Alas, the revelation would bring too much scandal for the pair of them so with one last look over his beloved’s handwriting, taking just a moment to try and memorise his favourite lines before he held the page over his candle and watched as it all slowly disintegrated into ashes on his cabin floor, never to be read by him nor anyone else ever again. 
Meal Venison! He could serve venison to his guests! Finally! He had reached the point in his career where he could share in such luxury foods with his father and siblings and dear Fanny. This would be the start of the great house and how fitting that it should be in a shared meal.
Confusion “It cannot be noon already, I have only just risen. Maybe it is the headache? It pounds relentlessly. Maybe I am unwell? Wait... Is it noon already? It can’t be...” 
Cold Wools were not enough to keep warm while on watch! They were in an ocean of ice, true and proper snow unlike anything he had seen back home. He rubbed at his arms and tucked his nose into the collar of his pipe jacket as he tried relentlessly to stay warm in the freezing temperatures! Just why were they trying to get through the Pole again?!
Clean A bath? He had desperately missed such luxury. Years and years at sea without leave, a bowl and jug of cold water could only do so much but a bath! There was nothing better! He scrubbed and lounged in the freshwater for as long as the temperature would allow him and perhaps a little more. If only he could justify bringing one on board a ship. 
Blue His dress coat was to be blue? Was that not a jinx on him? Blue was an unlucky colour was it not? But... well it did look mightily smart and it suited him. A dark navy, that did not count as the same blue now did it? 
Noise Was that a crack of thunder or a distant cannon fire?! Nelson was out of his cot in a flash and pulling on his uniform as he hurled himself up the ladders and onto the deck to see for himself, catching the murmurs and rumbling of his resting crew he had disturbed. “Another bloody storm, he’ll be pacing about all night.” Too right he would be! What if it was cannon fire?! What better disguise was there for an attack than the merciless crack of thunder?
Humility Vanity was his biggest sin, no, he did not have much humility and nor did he believe he should have! After all when another man could come along and show him up in his strategies and results, then perhaps then and only then might he be tempted to rein in his vanity. To hell with humility! 
Humanity He saw the man stumble onto his ship, unescorted, without permission, just hurling himself away from another man on the dock. He was clearly a slave, a run away. Nelson looked over the edge of his flagship and upon hearing the accent of the man chasing the other he decided he would not be receiving his help that day. “This man is now a part of my crew. If you wish to claim him, you will have to take it up with the Admiralty office in London, England. Until you do though, this man is under my care and is under the protection of the Royal Navy.”
Change The boy stood and watched as the man took hold of the ox reins, pulling the animal away and off towards his ‘farm’. He could see the faces of his neighbours, some were crying. How were they to plough their own squares now? How would they grow their crops if they did not have the ox to share?
Help How humiliating! To have to find his flagship without her rudder and drifting towards the unforgiving shoreline. His help came in his least competent captain, to which he belted several orders to for him to leave him be and save his own vessel only to go completely ignored. Rightly so though, for his bane of a captain turned out to be his saviour... perhaps it was alright to accept help now and again. 
Explain The Combined Fleets of the Enemy are now reported to be coming out of Cadiz; and therefore I answer your letter, my dearest Horatia, to mark to you that you are ever uppermost in my thoughts. I shall be sure of your prayers for my safety, conquest, and speedy return to dear Merton, and our dearest good Lady Hamilton. Be a good girl, mind what Miss Connor says to you. Receive, my dearest Horatia, the affectionate parental blessing of your Father,           --- Nelson + Bronte
Depth It was so important to know the waters one was sailing through, so vital to understand the depths of them and where they could be most treacherous. On this occasion it appeared as if his pursuers had not done the same work he had as they ran aground rather quickly. He could only laugh at them as he waved them a farewell as his own ship sailed albeit riskily but successfully through the shoals.  
Knowing That was his spine. He was shot through as he landed on his knees trying to catch himself with his left hand but collapsed onto it instead. His shoulder too weak to support him, the feeling of the rest of his body all but gone and a rushing of blood with each breath. They had finally done it, they had killed him but God by his mercy was granting him just enough more time, he was to die but not in that moment. He was needed for something else then. 
Freedom Admiral of the White. He was free to do as he pleased with his fleet, to engage the enemy or if he truly wished it, to spend years at a foreign port waiting for them to find him. He no longer had to wait for permissions or orders, now it was his turn to command a battle without the hindrance of a senior officer berating him, taking the prize money or surrendering too soon. 
Break How wonderful it was to walk on freed foreign beaches, to feel the warmth of the Mediterranean sands under his feet. To enjoy where he was without worry of attack, that threat was dealt with, for now he could just be even for just a short while, it was a break well earned. 
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shipyard98 · 4 years
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Sex on Fire
Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure
Pairing: Dio Brando x Reader
Word Count: 1996
Rating: E for Explicit (Mild Gore and Sexual Content)
Summary: You are kept as a slave in Dio's mansion. All goes good and well, until he senses something... different about you. Notably, your scent has changed. To put it simply, it's distrating him, and he needs to fix it.
Author’s Note: This fic is about sex. And I don’t write sex all that often. You have been warned. 
Also, feel free to support me on Ko-Fi. It’s not necessary, but it helps out a lot.
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The doors creaked open, and you stepped forward with your eyes to the ground. Before you had a moment to turn around and close them yourself, the doors slammed shut.
You looked up and took in the scene.
It was a dark room, very dimly lit by a few candles scattered here and there. The smell of jasmines and old blood pierced the air in a bittersweet perfume. You could make out a large canopy bed in the middle of the room.
To the right, there was an open space barely occupied by a velvet chaise lounge and a side table.
A figure was leaning back in that lounge and quietly reading a book.
Though there were barely any facial features to be seen on him, you felt his hypnotic gaze shift away from his book and towards your figure. He observed your shape, your facial features, your… everything.
A shiver shot through your body, and you took a deep breath to speak to this figure.
“Lord Dio,” you announced, taking a bow. “You summoned me?”
Dio closed his book and placed it on the table.
“I did,” he husked in a voice just loud enough for you to hear.
Slowly, he got out of his lounge and sauntered towards you. The candle’s light fell upon his muscles, and locks of his hair swept back in a breeze. He never took his eyes off of you the entire time he made his approach. It was like he wanted to make sure you were hypnotized by him, encaptured by his beauty and his power.
The look in his eye and the curve of his smile were hungry.
Dio stopped the second he was mere inches away from you. In spite of your height, you had to tilt your head up in order to look him in the eye. He, on the other hand, merely stared down at you like you were a dessert, ready for him to feast upon.
Your hands went to your chest and you looked down at your feet in a gesture of respect.
“What are you requesting of me, my lord?”
A silence hung in the room. The longer he didn’t say a word, the more anxious you felt, and it very quickly showed.
Seeing your skin shine in a thin sheet of sweat brought forth a low chuckle from your master.
Dio grasped your chin and tilted your head back up so you were giving him direct eye contact.
“It has come to my attention that you’re in heat.”
Immediately, you felt a heat rise into your face.
You thought that it wouldn’t be that noticeable, but there was no denying that your thoughts were flooded by thoughts of your master fucking you hard into a mattress. You wanted him to claim you, feel him grinding against your empty walls in that way only Dio could.
But what were you but his captive and next meal?
Comer to think of it, why has he kept you alive for so long? Just to play with you for a little while longer?
“Master, h-how did you...?”
“Why, my dear, my senses are sharper than most mortal men. I can smell your moistness, even from here.”
He leaned in until his face was close to your ear and inhaled deeply. A quick glance down at him revealed to you that an erection had already started to form.
“Mmm… It’s so inviting… and I refuse to let it distract me any longer.”
Dio’s tongue made a careful stroke along your cheek.
You shivered at his touch and your face grew even hotter. In an instant, you turned your head away from him, forcing him to let go of your chin. You didn’t want him to see that look of need in your eyes.
He let out a low growl.
“You know you can’t hide it from me.”
You gasped the second you felt his hand stroke at your inner thigh.
“I can smell how wet you are,” he purred in your ear.  “Your pussy’s just aching for a taste of my cock, and it shows. Don’t you want it inside of you? Don’t you want to be satisfied?”
It didn’t take long for you to give in to his seduction.
“Y-Yes, my lord… Please…!”
A pleased grin swept across his face.
“There’s a good girl.”
Dio picked you up and carried you to the bed, with your legs straddling his hips. You clung to him and, feeling the need to relieve some tension in your core, you tried to grind yourself against him as he walked.
“Ah, ah,” he muttered. He grabbed your ass with both hands, and that brought you to a dead halt. “Wait patiently, my dear. You’ll have your chance to cum.”
As soon as he reached the bed, he pinned you against the mattress with one hand and went to undo his belt and pants with the other. It didn’t take long for his massive erection to come forward. The more you stared at it, the more tempted you were to just go ahead and undo your pants yourself.
But Lord Dio wouldn’t allow that. He wanted you to know that he was in charge over everything about this moment, so this meant he would be the one to undress you and do with you how he saw fit. With that being said, you expected him to undo your pants with his hands or some other means, but no. Every moment he had was a chance for him to show off, so he did just that. He brought his mouth down to the zipper of your pants and gripped the tab between his teeth. In one fell swoop, your pants came undone.
Then, in the blink of an eye, your pants and underwear were strewn across the floor behind him. It was almost as though time suddenly leapt forward…
Dio’s breath gently swept over your clitoris and, for a brief second, he considered burying his face between your thighs. In his mind, however, that would’ve shown weakness and submission to you.
That was not how this was going to go.
Rather than giving in, he moved his face upwards and nuzzled at your neck, forcing you to tilt your head to the side. A few rough kisses trailed along your neck before, at last, his kiss found the perfect spot. He sunk his teeth into your flesh and let the blood flow out of you like a gentle stream.
You winced quietly, and a few tears threatened to run down your cheek. Even so, you didn’t move as he lapped up your blood.
Dio found your blood to be of a higher quality than most, so it took him a while to finish drinking his fill. His voice whispered into your neck, something about how good your blood tasted and how its scent was so divine.
The minute your neck was clean of any of your own blood, he propped his arms to either side of you and allowed his hips to press against yours.
Feeling his cock against your clit was driving you wild under the surface. You were trying not to let it show how bad you wanted it, but your lips were trembling and your face was burning red-hot.
Dio knew damn well that you wanted him. And he was going to use it to his advantage.
“Tell me how bad you want it,” he smirked down at you.
“I…” you whimpered softly. “I want you to fill me up, Lord Dio. Please.”
“Ask, and you shall receive, only because you’ve satisfied me.” He leaned back down so his lips barely touched yours. You are mine, and as long as you do what I say, you will be my most treasured pet.”
The tip of his cock had sunk inside of you without any hesitation.
You suddenly let out a gasp and wrapped your arms around his neck.
He pulled his hips down harder so he could reach further inside of you. From there, he bucked his hips back and forth in a slow but rhythmic pace. The sounds of the snap of his hips against yours and the moans pouring from your lips filled the room in a matter of seconds.
With your mouth open, he saw the opportunity to nip at your lower lip.
Your lips almost smashed against his as you found yourself quickly craving more of him. Of course, he didn’t mind this gesture in the slightest. In fact, the more you wanted him, the more control he had over you.
His tongue took its time to explore the inside of your cheek and it even swirled with your own tongue at some point.
Every minute that passed, he picked up the tempo with his thrusting.
The faster he went, the hotter the fire in your core became. You could feel your breasts bounce in rhythm and his cock pulsing against your walls.
It was all too good, and you quickly found yourself moaning your master’s name.
“D-Dio! Dio, my lord!”
His breath was already heavy, but it hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. It made his dick swell and his rhythm melt away into a frenzy of thrusts; a sure sign that he was close to cumming.
Recognizing this, he pulled his lips away from yours without once slowing down the wild buck of his hips. He held his body above you, all while staring you directly in the face.
“Look at me,” he groaned out loud. “Look me in the eye as I cum inside of you!”
You obeyed his command and stared deep into his soul.
A wave of pleasure washed over the both of you all of a sudden, and you released together. You felt a strong heat fill you up on the inside.
Dio’s thrusting slowed until it was at a complete stop. Almost completely out of breath, he nearly collapsed on top of you. If this were anyone else, he would’ve allowed himself to cave, but for whatever reason, he decided against it. Before the strength in his arms left him, he rolled over onto the bed next to you.
Your head turned to look at him, but his eyes were glazed over and staring at the ceiling.
“My lord?” you mumbled.
Dio glanced at you. The look in his eyes had softened tremendously. One of his hands reached over and gingerly cupped your cheek. For a fleeting second, he looked as though he was about to kiss you.
That all changed when a voice called from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Lord Dio! The Joestar party has been spotted just outside of Cairo! They’re nearly here!”
All that energy that had departed from him in the climax very quickly returned as his body jerked upwards and shot a death glare at the door.
“You know what must be done,” he snarled. “Take care of them before they even think of reaching my front doorstep.”
“Yes, master!”
Departing footsteps followed the acknowledgement.
Dio’s palm went to his forehead and his fingers massaged at his temple.
“For fuck’s sake...” he grumbled.
You placed your hand on his thigh, which caused him to look down at you. The gentle look in his eye was gone, now, but he didn’t look displeased with you in the slightest.
“You may go back to your chamber now,” he said as he got up to put his clothes back on. “And you will be called back here again soon. Understood?”
A smile very briefly flashed along your face, but your hand went to cover your mouth. Now probably wasn’t the best time to show any levels of amusement.
“I understand, my lord.”
With that said, he looped his belt back around his waist and left you alone with your thoughts.
Rest assured; he wasn’t done with you yet.
He wouldn’t be done with you for a long time.
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arcademoonlight · 3 years
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could we just kiss (like real people do) || childe x harbinger!reader
wow this is very very self-indulgent aughhfshf. i would call it a new writing style but wth is a writing style anyways lol. based off of like real people do by hozier warnings: proofread but not well (please ignore errors), spoilers for childe's story, mentioned drinking, both childe and the reader are emotionally constipated, and the reader + childe kiss at the end word count: 1201 part one (you are here), part two content under the cut!
You were a harbinger. You weren’t as feared as La Signora, nor as disliked as Scaramouche, but you were still on a pedestal. Everybody was watching you. Everybody was wary. It felt... It felt unreal. You couldn’t even walk down the street without stares or whispers. You couldn’t get food in a restaurant without the waitresses whimpering to each other with the fear you would harm them if they messed up your order. You were coveted for your healing abilities to the point where doctors would turn you away if you needed them, telling you to ‘fix it yourself’. Very few people even treated you like a real person anymore. You were a feared monster and an expendable soldier all in one. You were a harbinger. So when your best friend was sent off to Liyue Harbor alone you couldn’t complain. You couldn’t say anything. All you could do is engrain every detail of his goodbye hug into your mind hoping that he’d give you another less bittersweet hug soon. As you laid awake in your room you could only think about how his cocky laughter made you smile. Or about how when he spoke fondly of your talents your heart would hammer in your chest. You thought yourself into a tizzy as you began to reflect more on your feelings for him. You were a harbinger. You had no time for these foolish feelings. They would only get in the way. To try and hope they would leave you scribbled down everything about him that made you feel like you were floating. Page after page of that notebook got filled, each with incredible detail. The night you finished it you took it into the woods and buried it. The next day you didn’t feel any better. How frustrating. You went back and buried the book deeper. It still didn’t help. You were a harbinger. When you were sent off to join your companion you were overjoyed at your inability to argue. You swiftly packed you bags and you left as quickly as Tsartia would allow. A feeling similar to relief flooded you as you stood near the entrance to the bustling dockyard. “Hello, Childe.” You spoke calmly, trying to hide the joyful quiver in your voice as your friend approached you. “Heyyy~” He chuckled with his usual smirk. He was quick to pull you into an embrace, your face flushing as he held you against his torso. “For what it’s worth I’ve missed you.” “I missed you too.” You beamed. He grabbed your hand, starting to drag you towards the crowds of people lingering around. “I can’t wait to show you the harbor!!” The red head beamed as he pointed out each store and place he had been in the past few months, nodding to civilians he recognized despite their fear. If you two weren’t here to do Tsartia’s dirty work it would almost be like a date. As you returned to your temporary living quarters you tried to drift off to sleep, sighing with dread as you realized that wouldn’t be happening tonight. You were a harbinger. You are just doing your job. Yet you can’t help but stare at the ceiling of your current sleeping chamber replaying the events of the day in your mind. How Childe smiled when he greeted you. How warm and comforting his hug was. How his hand was laced in yours as he showed you around the city and how nicely your hands fit together. Every smirk and every comment and every touch bounced around in your head. With a sigh you sat up and slipped out of bed, fishing around in your desk for a journal you had bought earlier that day. You began to fill the pages with your writing about Childe once more. You filled the bound book over the course of a few days. You were a harbinger. Harbingers were supposed to be sure of themselves. Then why did you feel so in the wrong as you snuck out to bury your book again? Childe noticed your absence and decided to find where you went. As he saw you digging he gave you a worried, almost apprehensive, glance. You stared back at him with glossy eyes. He left silently, but you dreaded the questions he could ask. Not to worry though, he won’t be asking anything directly. In some sad way, he already knew what you were doing. You weren’t the only one with notebooks filled to the
brim with loving notes and lament-filled realizations. You were a harbinger. It was a surprise for you and Childe to get enough free time to sit on a balcony and just chat while looking at the stars. You enjoyed the downtime and the drinking. You enjoyed Childe’s voice. You both exchanged many drinks that night. The more drinks you shared the more secrets began to spill. You despised your job. Childe missed his family. You resented your vision. Childe didn’t join the fatui one hundred percent willingly. It wasn’t long until two of the biggest secrets were to be revealed. It was your turn to say something. Taking another drink of whatever intoxicated beverage was in front of you, you shakily sighed. “You know, I really uh- I really like you. That's my secret for this turn I guess.” “That's not a secret silly!! I already know you like me, why else would we be friends?” Childe snickered, giving you a confused look. There was tension building in the air regardless of his laid back attitude. “I- for Archon’s sake Childe! I have romantic feelings for you!! In fact, I’ve been festering these feelings for a while- I’ve just refrained from vocalizing them because it’s strongly unlikely that I’ve been blessed with enough luck for you to feel the same.” Your voice shook and you avoided his gaze, your lower lip quivering as you anticipated negative judgement. You didn’t mean for your confession to be longer than a few words but you did tend to ramble when nervous. You just hoped Childe wouldn’t be a jerk about it. “Ajax.” He corrected, a newfound glint in his eyes. “Huh?” You glanced to the ginger beside you, a bit confused at the sudden name being thrown out in the air. “My name is Ajax. If you want me to accept your confession then do it right~” Childe, no. Ajax, mused. He was just trying to drag it out for his own satisfaction, even if he was already overjoyed to hear that you felt the same. “Damn it Ajax! Why can’t we just kiss like real people do?” You groaned. At your exasperated words he yanked you toward him. He was careful but still as rowdy as always. Almost as if time was moving slower, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was too short for either of your likings but sweet nonetheless. It meant a lot to both parties to just be real. For their only audience to be the stars. Maybe for once you weren’t the only one with your career weighing heavily upon you. Maybe for once you were a person. You were a harbinger. But so was Childe.
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fettsvette · 3 years
Text
Never Worn White (Part One)
Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.
Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 2.1k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex
Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.
Boba Fett was in town.
 There had been rumblings around the city for the past several days. Something big was happening, but nobody seemed to be sure of exactly what. You’d overheard people at the Shadow Market saying there was a beautiful woman who matched the description of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan - well, formerly of Alderaan, now - staying in the guest quarters of the Administrator’s Palace, with a motley crew of attendants that included, of all creatures, a Wookiee. There were whispers of the famous spice smuggler, Han Solo, having been sighted as well, and even quieter mumblings concerning something called a ‘Skywalker’ (whatever that meant). An Imperial Garrison had been installed earlier in the week with no sign of leaving anytime soon, and the Baron Administrator himself, Lando Calrissian, had allegedly been seen meeting with Darth Vader himself. 
  Or so your roommate claimed.
  “That big scary guy who works for the Emperor? The one with the magic powers who sounds like he breathes through a gas-processing vane?” You had asked skeptically when they’d burst into your shared flat with the news, the normally relaxed Aruzan acting infuriatingly bubbly at finally having gotten hold of the hot gossip in the neighborhood before you had.
  The very same, they insisted; and the Baron hadn’t looked too pleased to be hosting such a powerful representative of the Empire, either.
  They hadn’t seen anything themself, no - they’d heard it from one of their coworkers at Pair O’ Dice, who’d claimed their cousin’s friend’s uncle had seen them together, walking across the Apex Overlook with a squadron of armed stormtroopers trailing behind them… the amount of parties involved in this city-wide game of Comlink Operator seemed to go on and on and on. You couldn’t decipher what was true, and what was just garbled rumors and hearsay. And you couldn’t make sense why such a varied amalgamation of the galaxy’s most well-known creatures would choose to congregate at a mining colony so far away in the Outer Rim.
  There was one thing you were absolutely certain of, however.
  Boba Fett was here, in Cloud City.  
  You’d never been so sure of anything in your life. You knew it was true. 
  Because you’d seen his ship yourself.
  It had been two days ago. You hadn’t been able to sleep, even after a long night waiting tables at K’cri’s Café, and you’d decided to take a walk down by the landing platforms in the wee hours of the morning, dawn still only a pinkish-orange smudge barely visible above the thick clouds. Whatever the time of day or night, there was always some action going on there - ships arriving constantly, bringing tourists from all over the galaxy looking to try their luck at one of Cloud City’s various casinos. You enjoyed watching the multitudes of different creatures disembarking off their various means of transportation - sub-aquatic Mon Calamari, blue-hued Chiss, reptilian Trandoshans; you’d even seen some gargantuan Hutts a few months ago, with their retinues of slaves and hangers-on, making their sluggish way across the concourse towards Yarith Bespin. It sometimes seemed that this city never truly slept.
  You’d been about to finally call it a night, still not particularly tired but knowing that you should attempt to go home, draw your curtains against the burgeoning light of the sun, and get some shut-eye before your next shift the following evening, when a bizarre sound from above snapped you out of your reverie. 
  You’d heard the Slave I long before you’d seen it. 
  The ship’s engine gave out a strange whining noise, unlike anything you’d ever heard in a transport. It reminded you of a gigantic buzz-bug, and you resisted the urge to swat at the air around your ears out of habit, squinting your eyes against the hazy morning light to see what kind of damned contraption could be making such a racket. 
  The ship came into view as it banked around the clouds, beginning a slow descent towards one of the nearby docks, and you felt your heart give a walloping jolt from the shock of what you were witnessing.
  ‘No… it can’t be… not here…’
  The ship was an ugly, mottled thing - a retired Firespray model of Old Republic make, the paint faded red and greenish-grey, much of it scraped away and adorned with deep gouges and obvious carbon scoring from firefights over the years. It had seemed to glide almost effortlessly through the air as it swept towards the docks, and as the transport grew closer and its image became more clear, your eyes widened, your blood screaming in your ears, your heart threatening to jump up out of your throat and flee from your frozen form. Its strangely vertical craft had suddenly rotated horizontally in the air, hanging momentarily as if suspended by a fine thread, and sank down to settle on one of the nearby landing pads, steam from the thrusters billowing around its now motionless form.
  You knew the ship well, although you’d never actually seen it in real life. It was all over the HoloNet almost every time a huge sum of credits were posted on a well-known fugitive’s head, their eventual capture usually accompanied by footage of that very same transport leaving the scene. It was called the Slave I , and was owned by a man who wore a ragged suit of Mandalorian armor, and who made his living by hunting down and - sometimes killing - those who found themselves on the wrong end of a particularly influential creature’s business dealings.
  Rooted to the spot, trembling from excitement, you’d stood on your toes and craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the pilot as they exited the durasteel behemoth. When the boarding ramp had finally extended, however, you’d turned and ran back to your apartment, a wave of anxiety at possibly seeing the owner - and them seeing you - having overcome your senses. And there you’d hid for the rest of the day, pacing the floor of your living quarters and periodically peeking out the window, expecting to see the old Firespray taking off into open space from the vicinity of the dockyards across the city. But as far as you knew, it was still there. You could feel in your guts that it was.
  That was how you’d discovered that Boba Fett had come to Cloud City.
  The deadliest and most effective bounty hunter in the entire galaxy, in your town.
  And you wanted to meet him. You needed to meet him.
  It sounded almost dirty, to acknowledge that maybe you had a bit of a crush on Boba Fett. Although merely calling it a ‘crush’ was quite an understatement. 
  You were infatuated with him. 
  You’d followed his career almost obsessively since your early teenage years, when he’d first erupted onto the bounty hunting scene and began making headlines thanks to the clean, efficient work he’d make of marks who’d been unfortunate enough to cross his path. He was highly dangerous and had a nasty reputation for being a ruthless killer, focused only on bringing pain to the creatures that could earn him as many credits as possible. On top of that, he had exclusive hunting contracts with both the Empire and the Hutts, which didn’t garner much support from communities sympathetic to the Alliance to Restore the Republic, such as your own. Much of the galaxy considered bounty hunters to be the lowest of scum, on the same level as the criminals and other dregs and vestiges of the civilized universe that they were famous for capturing. It was difficult to admit that it wasn’t the gorgeous Falleen who lived down the hall that you fantasized about sweeping off your feet and charming the Corellian hells out of you, but Boba Fett. 
  You couldn’t fully explain it, even to yourself let alone your exasperated and befuddled friends, but there was just something downright sexy about him. You felt weak in the knees whenever you saw his visage broadcast on the holocaster in the café, and your ears always tingled and burned when you caught his name being mentioned in a snatch of overheard conversation. You spent hours scrolling and typing on your holopad, searching for any and all information you could discover on this enigmatic figure who wore the regalia of an ancient warrior race. You’d made it a point to haunt the local nightclubs and bars on your nights off, always seeking out information on Boba Fett’s whereabouts in the galaxy, his latest jobs, encounters that the creatures constantly flowing in and out of the local entertainment establishments may have had with him during their travels. You’d heard how good of a lay - and a generous tipper - he supposedly was from several of the go-go dancers who worked at the Zero-G Club, and the idea of Boba Fett himself getting a lap dance in a seedy topless bar always sent liquid heat pooling to your core. One of your most prized sources of intelligence concerning Boba Fett was Rystáll Sant , the half-Theelian backup singer for the Max Rebo Band, whose frequent sets at the Blue Petal Bar you never missed for this express reason. Lyn Me and Greeata Jendowanian had their own Fett stories, but Sant in particular became very talkative about her famous conquests while touring the galaxy - always after a couple spotchkas, which you were more than happy to share with her.
  Rystáll Sant was adamant that she’d had a casual physical relationship with Fett for years, and that he was, without question, the best fuck of her life. She hadn’t seen, let alone hooked up with him, in several months, no, but the band had a long-term residency at Jabba the Hutt’s palace on Tatooine coming up, and she was looking forward to finally reuniting with him there. He was one of Jabba’s favorite hired guns, after all. You always came away from your conversations with Rystáll feeling flushed and woozy, in a way that had nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol you both consumed while chatting. You’d always been too shy to grill her on any of the specifics of her dalliance with Fett, even though you knew she’d be happy to give them to you - what kind of a lover he was, if he was gentle or rough or a delicious mixture of the two, what he sounded like when he moaned, what he looked like both underneath his Mandalorian helmet and that mysteriously dented codpiece - but those unasked questions haunted you endlessly. You wanted to learn the answers yourself, somehow.
  In short, you were helplessly drawn to Boba Fett, and found everything about him to be intoxicating - from the danger associated with his chosen career, to the mystery of what dashing good looks he had to be hiding behind that black-visored helmet… and the fact that he was experienced. 
  Because you’d never been with a man before.
  Ever.
  You were a virgin in every sense of the word.
  You didn’t consider yourself a prude, or anything close - you just felt you’d never met the right person who you’d want to share that part of yourself with. Your virginity was something sacred in your eyes, something you wanted to give to someone special, not to just waste on a drunken, spiced out tryst after a night partying. Your prospective admirers on Bespin bored you to tears, and you found yourself constantly daydreaming of being whisked away off-world by a masked man in a shining suit of armor; one who would take you on exciting adventures and carry you bridal-style back to his ship afterwards for a romantic, passionate night together.
  You’d never admit it to anyone, knew you’d be laughed out of the social circles you’d managed to cultivate during your years living and working in Cloud City, but Boba Fett’s was the only name that ever came to your lips as you laid in bed, your hands between your legs, bringing yourself to climax twice, sometimes three times during one of your nightly sessions. Just the mere thought of him drove you wild in a way that no other person ever had, and you constantly fantasized about him claiming your innocence for his own, leaving you trembling and mewling underneath him.
  And now, like a bolt out of the blue, he was actually here , located in Cloud City on some unknown business, possibly entangled in whatever Imperial affairs that’d had the entire colony holding its collective breath over the previous days.
  It almost seemed as if it were meant to happen, that you were supposed to seduce and sleep with him, despite your initial panic at his unprecedented arrival. You knew how it sounded. If anyone found out about what you were planning, discovered the details of your deepest fantasy, the one thing you truly wanted above all else, they’d have you admitted to the psychiatric medcenter at Cloud City Central.
  It was true.
  You were saving yourself for Boba Fett.
  You were on a mission to fulfill that adolescent promise to yourself, consequences be damned, and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
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