#navy is being a menace and I fell into the trap

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Good moaning. 😇

Well, you're a menace and I sat thinking about how pretty Curtis's eyes were, how tempting his beard was, and how he would just love on you that it was all-consuming. So here we are, another unplanned piece that I am currently loving for them. Thank you babes!

All His

A Curtis x Honey Drabble.

Summary- Curtis can't get enough of you being his.

18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Thanks for reading! It would be appreciated if you could leave a comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed what you read.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

If he was a patient man, he would draw you right now.

Sheets crumpled across the bed with you stretched across them, your hands pushed into your hair as your body arched, quivering still in the aftermath of your last orgasm.

Your legs were bent with your toes digging into the mattress, your thighs had slapped together earlier when he pulled away, an uncontrolled move on your part as you moaned his name. In relief or a plea, he wasn't sure, nor did he care.

Your ass pressed against the bed, muscles taunt as you still rode that high. His hands curled around your hips, thumbs circling to merely touch your soft skin there. Your arousal glinted in your pubic curls, making him bite his own lip with the temptation to bury himself into you again.

Tongue or cock, he really couldn't decide what was better, either way, what bliss for him. "Good girl Honey." He rumbled out when you gave a soft sob, you were still struggling to come back down in the sweetest way. Unable to help himself from making you squirm a little while longer, his hand dipped between thick clenching thighs to swipe his fingers slowly around your clit.

So slow as you were sensitive, the slight touch still made you jerk. "Curtis."

"I know Pretty Girl, but you are so beautiful right now, I just want to see you like this a little longer." Your belly quivered as your body tightened again at his touch, the arch in your back just bending you that much more beautifully, he did that, made you into living artwork for him.

His plush lips curled around a tight nipple, an offering he wasn't about to say no to. Your hands unraveled from your hair, grasping at the back of his head as he dragged in more, knowing you loved the sharpness of his teeth and warmth of his tongue. You pushed him harder against you as you gasped.

Did you know the needing ache your noises caused? He had to get another one just like it, Curtis wanted all those noises for him, just him. They made his eyes blow almost black as you made it again when he claimed your other nipple, his fingers still buried between your clenched thighs working just a bit faster. "Oh god..." You panted, your nails curling to scrape against his scalp and dropping to his shoulder to grab on tighter.

Sinking into the bunched muscle like it could possibly save you. "I'm gonna come." His mouth smirked against your breast. Hell yes you are, it's mine.

You finally collapsed, spent into the mattress, pushing now at his head to make him back off with a pathetic whimper. "Please Curtis."

"I got you Honey, you did so good." Curtis knew he had to stop, at least for a little bit. You were twitching at the slightest brush of his body against yours as he pulled himself up to cup your face, letting his mouth skim across your parted lips while you tried to catch your breath. "Always so good for me Pretty Girl."

You curled into him, and he pulled you in close, his hand rubbing at your back to help relax you. "Yeah?" came your voice finally, needing that reassurance. Curtis didn't mind, he knew that sometimes you struggled by how much he loved you, craved you, worshipped you. You never had that commitment before and you were still wrapping your mind around it being possible.

It was easy for Curtis to do.

"So good Baby, when you're ready, I'm going to fuck you so good, make you feel how hard you make me, every damn inch will be swallowed by your cunt." His words were whispered in your ear, making you shiver excitedly in his arms. You finally lifted your face enough to look at him, unable to hide the excited little grin, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. A playful little moan escaped you as you moved your mouth close to his.

Curtis should be patient, but he had a raging hard-on for you now that was driving him to the brink. His lips crashed to yours, swallowing your noises for himself. Your hand swept between the two of you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, circling your thumbs tip around his head. "Fuck me Curtis."

"Spread those thighs Pretty Girl, let me see my cunt take this cock." Curtis ordered, splaying you on your back once again with your legs falling open for him, without any hesitation of what he would see. "Fucking beautiful."

#amber answers #navy is being a menace and I fell into the trap #again #curtis and honey #life is short so make it sweet #does any of this match the gif? #not really #but here I am writing it anyways #because these two have me in a chokehold lately #curtis everett and you #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett and honey #amber writes #sweater writes

[laequiem]

She kills my self control - Chapter 8

/ Includes dialogue from The Cruel Prince, Chapter 21-22.

“Crawl," Jude blurts out.

A shiver went from the tip of my tail to the top of my spine. In my most indulgent fantasies, I am the one ordering her to crawl. In my worst nightmares, it's the other way around. Once again, I have the impression that nothing about this is real. Still, I can’t help but smirk.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

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Chapter 8. A little death is better with somebody at your side

Elfhame was waiting for its new ruler to be crowned and I, its disappointment of a prince, missed the coronation.

After the initial change in air pressure, the ground shakes, and I feel dread creep through my drunken numbness. I get to my feet. The girl I was with is gone. The fox mask she was wearing is still on the ground where it fell when we were making out. I pick it up and secure it to my face, hoping to get back in the throne room without anyone recognizing me.

As quickly as I can without looking conspicuous, I make my way out of the cellar and towards the ballroom. My mind is whirling, my vision is blurry, but I have to reach the throne room before my absence is noticed.

When I enter the room, I am greeted by absolute chaos. Knights are gathered around the throne. A bottleneck of folks from every court stretches from each possible exit as guards inspect everyone.

I approach a table closer to the dais and absentmindedly fill myself a goblet of wine as I crane my neck to look past the knights. There is blood everywhere. The throne looks weaker than it did a few minutes (hours?) ago, like its roots are not being nourished by the land anymore. The flowers that bloomed earlier are withered. But out of everything up there, that is the least alarming thing. Bodies upon bodies lay lifeless on the dais. My eyes catch on a heap of blue fabric stained red. Loyal Caelia, a bolt sticking out of her chest. Next to her, fierce Rhyia, with a knife in hand and a slit throat. Determined Elowyn, her gown covered in dried blood dripping from her neck. My sisters, barely more than strangers to me, slaughtered. I see other bodies nearby: guards, knights, a headless female, and my older brother Dain. 

This can’t possibly be real. Am I dreaming? Did another court attack when we were at our weakest? Is it a coup coming from our own people? I feel bile rising in my throat. 

I see no trace of my father. I scan the room for him, but my gaze catches on dark navy fabric coming out from under a banquet table.

No, no no no no no. Anybody but her. 

The Grand General came back to Elfhame last night and my father threw a ball in his honor. Madoc is holding a child’s arm forcefully as he toasts with the soldiers. She is fae, a year or two older than me. But she is not the only child he brought back. Two other girls came to the ball with him, but he is not parading them around like he is doing with the older girl. They are standing alone in the corner of the room, as far away from anyone else as possible.

I look at my father. He is toasting with the general, courtiers at his arm. I look at my mother. She is dancing with a Lord from another court. They have not so much as looked at me in weeks. I found the revel by accident, roaming the halls of the palace in an attempt to find something to eat. 

I run towards the new girls. They look like copies of each other - brown hair and brown eyes, tan skin, frail little things. They are both wearing ill-fitting beige dresses, as if whoever dressed them did not know what to wear for a ball. 

“Are you servants?” I ask when I reach them.

“No,” they answer together.

“You look like servants. Fetch me food.”

I make to grab for one of them, but she backs up before I can. They run away and I run after them. They duck under a table, as if I couldn’t see them. 

I lift the tablecloth and smile. They try to back away, but the table is set against a wall, trapping them. I grab one of them by the hair and drag her out from under the table. I pin her to the ground by the wrist. I move her hair away from her ears.

“Human! You’re human!” I exclaim with glee, “Maybe I’ll eat you.”

Someone pulls my hair and forces me away from her.

“Leave my sister alone!”

I whirl on the second girl. I bite the arm holding my hair. She lets go of my hair with a startled scream, but she starts punching me in the chest. 

“Jude, stop this right now.” Madoc’s strong voice echoes through the room. 

The girl freezes, eyes wide with fear. She gets up. 

“Your Majesty, forgive her,” the Grand General tells my father, “She does not know how to behave around royalty yet.”

My father waves a hand in dismissal, unbothered. I look at the girl, Jude. She’s staring at me fiercely, a silent promise of violence.

I bolt towards the table. The pressure in my chest slackens when I see the fabric shift. She is alive. I reach under the table and grab her arm.

“You’re mortal,” I say, as if it wasn’t obvious. My eyes dart to the knife in her hand, then back at her face, “It’s not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.”

“Not safe for me?” she snarls, “Get down here before you’re recognized.”

Why would it matter? Surely, nobody would think of me as a threat to their coup.

“Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt?” I laugh, unable to keep my composure and hide my anxiousness, “Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.”

Suddenly, she throws her arm forward and punches me in the stomach.

“Ow!”

Jude drags me under the table with her. Sure, I had imagined us hiding under tables before, but I never imagined it being to avoid being murdered.

“We’ll get out of here without anyone noticing,” she whispers, “We stay under the tables and make our way to the steps to the upper levels of the palace. And don’t tell me it’s beneath your dignity to crawl. You’re so drunk you can barely stand anyway.”

I snort, “If you insist.”

As we make our way, through the music and wild laughter of rowdy guests, I hear snippets of conversation, allowing me to put the pieces together. Balekin is alive and looking for me, Madoc killed Dain, my father is dead.

My father is dead.

I look at the signet ring on my finger, the proof of my royal blood.

“He despised me.”

Would my father have crowned me, if all my other siblings were dead? Would he have crowned me before he crowned Balekin? I doubt it. He would rather keep the crown, knowing as I do that my reign would doom Elfhame. Yet, I will mourn him. 

“Balekin?”

Another disdainful snort, “My father. I didn’t much know the others, my brothers and sisters. Isn’t that funny? Prince Dain- he didn’t want me in the palace, so he forced me out.”

Dain is the only one I will not mourn. He put me at Balekin's mercy knowingly. Brought me down to raise himself up. If I am Prince Failure, he was Prince Perfect, the High King's pride.

“And now they’re all dead. Thanks to Madoc. Our honorable general. They never should have trusted him. But your mother discovered that a long time ago, didn’t she?”

Cruelty and laughter. My only weapons against fear, against the reality of being the last one alive to crown Balekin. He will hunt me down, force me to crown him. Will Jude bring me to him directly? She is Madoc's ward, after all. She might just bring me straight to her father, who will gladly give me over.

“Crawl," Jude blurts out.

A shiver went from the tip of my tail to the top of my spine. In my most indulgent fantasies, I am the one ordering her to crawl. In my worst nightmares, it's the other way around. Once again, I have the impression that nothing about this is real. Still, I can’t help but smirk. 

“You first.” 

Fighting with her, teasing her, humiliating her. It all comes so naturally to me, and I am willing to bet it does to her too.

We move from table to table, until we are close to the steps leading out of the hall. I lift the tablecloth and exit first, then offer her my hand. She does not take it.

Jude makes to go towards the steps, but I stop her. 

“Not like that. Your father’s knights will recognize you.”

Her fierce gaze narrows, “I’m not the one they’re looking for.”

I frown under my mask. 

“If they see your face, they may pay too much attention to whom you’re with.”

“If they knew me at all, they’d know I’d never be with you.”

And yet. She sighs, then takes the pins out of her braids and lets her hair loose. She ruffles her hair. I am taken aback, unable to stop staring.

“You look…”

Mortal. Lusty. Obscene. Untamed. Filthy. Gorgeous. 

“Give me a second.”

Thankfully, she leaves before I can finish my thought. The dress I designed, her menacing attitude, the hair. It’s all too much, too close to my fantasies. Cardan, you pathetic wretch. Your family was slaughtered and you think about banging a mortal. I grab a bottle of green wine from the table and guzzle it down while she is gone. When she comes back, she is wearing a mask like I am.

“Come on,” she grunts as she drags me towards the guards watching the steps.

“Look elsewhere for your pleasure,” one of them says authoritatively, “This is the way to the palace, and it is barred to common Folk.”

Who is he calling common?

“We will do as we are bid,” Jude replies submissively as she tugs me away. I stand my ground.

“You are much mistaken in us,” I reply with a saccharine smile. 

If nothing else, sweet-talking is my forte. 

“The High King Balekin is a friend to my lady’s Court,” I drawl as I slide my signet ring off of my finger, “You may have heard of Queen Gliten in the Northwest. Balekin sent a message about the missing prince. He is waiting for an answer.”

“I don’t suppose you have any proof of that?”

“Of course,” I reply as I hold out the ring, “I was given this token so you would know me.”

They step back. Half-truth, the language of the court. I smile and grab Jude’s arm, dragging her eagerly up the steps.

“What about the mortal?” one guard inquires.

“Oh, well, you aren’t entirely mistaken in me. I intended to keep some of the delights of the revel for myself,” I give them a knowing smirk.

I guide her up the steps, then unlock the door to the upper level of the palace. As soon as we enter the empty hall, I hear the lock turn. Confused, I turn towards her, only to see her point a dagger at my face. She presses it under my chin and I stiffen.

“Jude?”

“Surprised?” she grins at me, fire and hatred burning in her earthy eyes, “You shouldn’t be.”

She presses the knife deeper and I feel the sharp blade resting against my skin. Not a nightmare, then. Real.

“Why?”, I try to sound bored but it comes out more like a whine.

“Because your luck is terrible and mine is great. Do what I say and I’ll delay the pleasure of hurting you.”

My luck is terrible. My tormentor stands closer than she ever has, but I am not the one holding the blade to her throat. I feel shame wash over me as my blood rushes south at the thought of her pushing that blade deeper.

“Planning to spill a little more royal blood tonight?” I sneer as I try to wiggle my way out of her grasp, “Feeling left out of the slaughter?”

“You’re drunk.”

An obvious statement, I guess, to mirror the one I made earlier about her mortality. I lean my head back against the stone wall and close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at her, determined and deadly, cunning little mortal.

“Oh, indeed," I scoff, “But do you really believe I am going to let you parade me in front of the General, as though I am some lowly—” 

She presses the knife harder to my throat. I swallow.

"Of course," I laugh nervously, “I was passed out cold while my family was murdered; it’s hard to fall more lowly than that.”

“Stop talking. Move.”

“Or what? You’re not really going to stab me.”

I kind of wish she would. 

“When was the last time you saw your dear friend Valerian? Not today, despite the insult implied by his absence. Did you wonder at that?”

My eyes fly open. Valerian’s presence is definitely not one I missed, but I did wonder where he was. It is unlike him to miss a revel, especially one with such bloodshed. I stare at Jude, trying to find the answer to this riddle she just posed in her eyes. She gives nothing away. 

“I did. Where is he?”

“Rotting near Madoc’s stables. I killed him, then I buried him,” she boasts, a vicious smile on her face, “So believe me when I threaten you. No matter how unlikely it seems, you are the most important person in all of Faerie. Whosoever has you, has power. And I want power.”

I blink a few times. She… killed him? I knew she hated him, hated us. But I never imagined her going out of her way to find him and murder him. No matter how much he deserved it. 

“I suppose you were right after all,” I say in disbelief, “I suppose I didn’t know the least of what you could do.”

“Time to move,” she cuts in, “Go to the first door and open it. When we’re inside, we’re going to the closet. There’s a passageway through there.”

“Yes, fine,” I bark back at her.

It’s humiliating that Jude, of all people, knows this palace better than I do. I put my hand between the knife and my throat to push it away, but she holds it and it cuts my fingers.

Shit.

I put a bleeding finger to my mouth. “What was that for?”

“For fun,” she croons, then lowers the dagger.

She pushes me forward. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“No. Now move.”

I go to the first room and immediately spot the closet. I open it, then I look back at her. She is still holding that damned dagger, her eyes burning holes in my back.

I crawl in reluctantly.

#tfota #the folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #cardan #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #the cruel prince #fanfic #smut #angst

[mellow-em]

Bedlam (Sam Drake)

CHAPTER 1: LEFT BEHIND

The life she had built in only a year had disintegrated, and she was set on her stubborn mindset of finding her purpose away from Jackson.

I DO NOT OWN ANY TLOU OR UNCHARTED CHARACTERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO NAUGHTY DOG!

(This is a tlou x uncharted crossover. It’s set in tlou universe, but its a fic between an oc of mine, and Sam! I’m not sure how this is gonna turn out so please bear with me)

Prologue

_________________________________

-ABOUT 3/4 YEARS LATER-

Nevada, U.S.

_________________________________

The green inferno of the forest surrounding me was almost suffocating at this point, not to mention my lungs burning from the treacherous run I had to commit to in the boiling temperatures of Nevada not even a few moments ago.  

This trip was supposed to be a simple one to retrieve food, scope out the area, and return to the base I developed overtime. Though, I guess it was my fault to even consider it a non-lengthy adventure, with the infected still coursing through the entirety of the world.

It almost felt like my backpack was weighing on my entire body as I lazily slid myself down against the base of a tree to sit myself onto the foliage. As my  momentary vitality wore away, my limbs weakened with every passing second.

Running aimlessly for your life was the only thing that annoyed the hell out of me, mainly because it happens so often now.

It was mainly caused by the wide ranges of infected that have been circulating this area for weeks, all while trapping me within their circulation as I ventured further into the forest.

Since then, there had been little to no escape from their confinement in the middle of the woods. I would need to break for it sooner or later.

While I knew it was a huge risk, I couldn’t also risk dying from famine or another natural circumstance. Joel had always told me it was ridiculous of me to perceive death as a triumphant experience that needed to be commemorated and memorable.

But to me, if I died from a natural cause, I would feel as though it could be added to the list of wasted opportunities for something all the more grand.

The mind fog slowly engulfing me was blown away by a branch cracking not too far from where I was sitting.

My ears, along with my attention, perked up by the sudden noise.

Shit.

My hand slowly glided across the side of my hip, reaching for what I pray could be a good defense. I felt the slightest bit of relief when I grazed the handle of my switchblade.

The wooden handle was carved smoothly to encase the sharpened metal end; it was something beautifully valuable to me, as it was one of the things that I had left that reminded me of Jackson, and of my surrogate family.

The family I left behind.

There was another small detonation of what now sounded to be leaves crunched on the dirt. Whomever or whatever it was, it wasn’t moving quickly.

My mind first created the image of a clicker, though its grotesque voice wasn’t echoing throughout the trees. My thoughts began to charge as I began contemplating my next move.

As the noises got closer towards the trunk I hid myself behind, my breathing became ragged and unsteady. Growing more frantic, I discarded the knife idea, and reached for my revolver that was wedged into its holster.

Slowly pulling the gun out, my hands gripped it with a force that turned my knuckles into flaming snow. The heartbeat I carried within me scorched in my throat, creating a lump I very much needed to swallow.

I gulped down the blockage harshly, reverberating a sound too loud considering the condition of my surroundings. I cursed myself out in my head for it, knowing I’d have to turn the safety of the gun off not too long after.

I hoped intelligence of what was traveling closer to me was slim to none, mainly because anyone with an average IQ could probably recognise the sounds and cause a scene.

I suck in a cavernous breath, only to release it with a shaken state packaged alongside.

I close my eyes, and prepare for the worst, before raising from my stance on the ground.

My gun was firmly held in front of me, as if it were a barrier from all evil. I only took the time to stare at the culprit of the echoing commotions for a second, before pressing my fingers down on the trigger. 

A low pitched grunt reverberated through my ears, along with the blare of a gunshot. The figure jerked slightly from it’s position while doing so, creating a brief stumble. 

As I lowered the gun from it’s stern position in my hands, an overwhelming wave of tension froze my body in place. 

My thin eyebrows retracted from being furrowed from anger to worry, as did the slight wrinkles present on my features from years of age and affliction. 

The menace responsible for my frightened, yet threatening state wasn’t any form of the fungal infested beings that surrounded this forest.

It was a man.

His back was slightly turned, though I was able to take in a few of his features. His hair was a lighter brown, with the sun brightening its shade by a ton. It was fairly short, though it looked as though it had been neglected.

He held a navy blue long sleeve on his back, with dirt particles, along with sweat coating it altogether. It was fairly warm where we were, so it was apparent that he either wasn’t from here, or he didn’t know how to properly succumb to the weather. 

My eyes then traveled down to his lower back. It was drenched in a hauntingly beautiful shade of crimson. I could clearly hear the rapid breaths fuming from his mouth, almost in the form of a wheeze too. God what have I done.

As soon as I finally had the strength to take a step towards him, his breath hitches. He whips around to face me, giving me an opportunity to take in his face.

I noticed his shrewd blue eyes that were almost a shade of sapphire. Though, I was able to pinpoint multiple blotches of green and lighter hues of turquoise.

Overall though, his eyes were glossed over with sheer pain along with an obvious smudge of exhaustion. 

He held a small amount of stubble along the lines of his sharp jawline and chin. But again, it looked to be just as unkempt as the rest of him. He was a mess of course. But, courtesy of me, he was an even bigger disaster. 

 His face continued to contort in pain, much to my guilt and dismay. The unknown state of his physical trauma unnerved me to no end; I needed to look at the damage I’ve caused for myself. 

“Lift your shirt,” I simply croaked, with me then earning a look of defiance with a hint of panic.

“Why should I-”

“Christ do you wanna die out here?,” I questioned rhetorically, which surprisingly shut him up swiftly.

I knelt down towards the covered wound, though a strong tear was visible on his shirt. 

“Fuck, it shot straight through.” I mumbled to myself, with a string of curse words following after. 

I inspected the shredded fabric for a little longer before remembering the constraint that potential death was forcing him to endure. The pads of my fingertips grazed the shirt gently.

His eyes travel to my hands, watching my fingers place themselves on the hem of his shirt to lift it. 

My eyes widened slightly as I notice his shirt was snug on the wound, most likely making it impossible to lift it without more pain than normal. 

And with that action, a wave of anxiety visibly washes over him, “what is it?”

“Your shirt is stuck to it-.. this is gonna hurt”

“It’s okay I've had wors- oh crap,” his voice crumbled as he hissed the words out, his speech faltering due the pain. 

“Sorry- shit” I stop for a moment to gently life the shirt from the bloodstained skin of his lower abdomen before continuing to raise it any further. Once the shirt was detached from clinging to him, my fingers hoist the shirt upwards delicately, as the man still continues to wince in distress.

The whole mess on his stomach was the scene of a bloodbath; revealing the reason for the floods of ichor that canceled out the tones of his tanned skin.

It was something that definitely can create a burden, or even a grim fate for the poor bastard. A gaping hole surged through his abdomen, with blood now circling the gash.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed out. I rushed to turn away from his injury, with my gag reflex threatening me with my inspections continuing.

He was losing a lot of blood, and at this rate his injury would become infectious if nothing is done quickly. Or he could die right in front of me, and I couldn’t let my carelessness with a gun jeopardize someones life. 

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I let my backpack fall off my shoulders and onto the ground behind me, giving off minimal sound.

A few strands of short hair fell from behind my ears, eventually sticking to my face that happened to be drenched in sweat.

I unzipped my bag, and with no hesitation, I dove my hands in to reach for what I hoped would be exactly what I was looking for.

I felt around the entirety of the pack’s interior, with that sliver of hope deteriorating each time I touched an item. After a few moments of searching through, I could hear the man stumble slightly behind me.

As if on cue, I felt a roll of soft fabric brush the surface of my fingers, and I released a sigh of pure relief. I pull the roll of firm gauze from its original place in my bag, and turn to face the now whimpering man.

I could see tears threatening to form in his eyes as I looked at him, and my lips flatlined; he was in so much pain but he still attempted to hide it. 

His skin was getting to be dangerously pale, with his warm complexion draining with his blood.

I stand from the ground, carefully placing my free hand onto his broad shoulder. He jumped suddenly as I did so, but visibly relaxed as much as he could after a few moments.

“I need you to try and sit on this.” I bob my head towards the direction of a larger rock protruding from the ground beneath. It was covered in mud along with various patches of carpet-like moss, but it would have to do.

He hesitates, pushing me away from him slightly, “I’m gonna be fine I don’t need you to-”

“Not to be rude but shut the fuck up and sit, please” I gave him a pleading stare, hoping he would stop being so damn stubborn.

After taking the deepest of inhales to secure his oxygen, he maneuvers himself to sit on the rock. He remained stiff, still choking on his own projectile yelps of anguish, but he managed to get himself down onto the rock. 

“I’m gonna wrap this around you, alright?” I lean back down onto the ground, closer to his wounded midriff, with the medical wrapping clenched within both of my palms.

The man exchanged a look between my hands that held the gauze, and the expression draped across my face. He looked even more unsure of me now than when he glanced at me the first time after me shooting him, but in all honesty I wasn’t going to judge.

I continued to let him contemplate whether to bail or remain in my care for now, as frustrating as it was getting. I wasn’t usually the type of person to let my impatience tower over my empathy unless necessary, even though I had snapped at him once already.

It wasn’t until I heard the gruesome sounds of the undead not too far from us, that I didn’t wait for a single ounce of approval. No matter what, I wasn’t going to let him die in my sights if I have this chance to save him in front of me.

As I begin to hastily wrap the bandage around his injury, he unintentionally cries out in pain, unknowingly triggering the numbers of infected surrounding the forest.

Their moans of displeasure and sickening thirst for the suffering such as us grew closer, and I began to panic for the crippled human before me.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it-,” his confusion snapped into worry as soon as a whale of a runner erupts towards the east, “Oh crap.”

“They must've heard the commotion,” I muttered under my breath.

Once I finally wrap the injury to my satisfaction, I bring the roll to my mouth and tear the wrapping away from the roll itself as quickly as I could. While holding the gauze protection in place, I turn around to face my backpack once more.

With another minute passing by, the intense roars of clickers catches my attention now. My rapid breathing began to shake my body, and wrestle with my stomach. I needed to move much faster.

I drop the gauze from my hands in, and replace it with a roll of duct tape. With my mouth, I rip off a large strand of the structured adhesive, placing it over the bandage to hold it in place.

I unravel his now crinkled shirt, covering the work I had just done with one swift motion.

“We have to go. NOW.” I gesture for him to get up with urgency, in which he does so with minimal grace; stumbling slightly with a pained expression drenched on his entire being.

I grab my backpack, and throw it over my shoulders before allowing his arm to swing over my shoulders for support.

I did my best to solely sustain my focus on him as he got situated, annihilating the thoughts of dying in the hands of the infected.

“Get ready to haul ass, come on!”

He grunted in response as I began to trudge through the woodland forest with him fitted at my side.

This ominous feeling of anxiousness while pleading to save another created a sense of deja vu. I’ve been in this situation before, but with someone I once knew. Joel.

History was beginning to replicate, leaving my mind clouded with the thought of each event running its course fully with new people.

I let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed with my unfortunate timing for such conceptions. I needed to focus, not reminisce.

Another groan from behind me resulted in a complete snap back into reality.

While carrying the man’s force, heaves of air continued enter and escape his lips as he began to stumble on his feet slightly. The feeling of his weight was growing heavier, as he became much weaker.

“Shit, stay with me. We got this.” my attempts at reassurance did not prevail however, with his hyperventilation slowly progressing into drawn out sighs.

My grip onto his shoulder tightened, producing a sharpened soreness within my arm. My hold on him was overwhelming my strength, testing my limits as I pulled for him to move more quickly.

Wavering uncertainty of whether or not either of us were going to make it to my base camp alive, sat in the lap of my head. 

There wasn’t anything I could do about it until this heart-racing moment in time subsided; which seemed to not be ending soon enough.

No matter how much effort I put in, getting him to travel at a faster pace was absolutely no use.

He continued to fall in and out of his rush. I knew the swarm was inches from us at this point.

My blood ran cold as I felt a tug on my flesh. I swatted my arm away from the offender, succeeding as I place my arm at my side again. The pain electrified my system.

I felt the frigid sense of my own blood as it drew lines of red down my arm.

I didn’t bother to show any signs of torment, however; my face remained expressionless to keep the man attached to me from dismay.

While looking into the distance, I could see base camp in all its glory; a small, wooden dwelling that looked to be abandoned for years upon years.

To the naked eye, it wasn’t visible. A barricade held its own, as it was tall enough to keep unwanted guests away from the premises. It did its job well.

I look over to the man that unintentionally put his life in my hands. His eyelids were practically shut at this point.

He looked lifeless as he tripped over his own feet, trying to pry himself awake every few seconds.

The words ‘he's gonna die’ circled my brain, shoving me into a further state of panic. 

I shook my head to pin those inquiries to the back of my mind, however, knowing that we just needed to keep pushing. 

“Not much further now.” I mumble.

My heart was racing. My energy was running out, and so was his. But I couldn’t let either of us collapse. My urge for constant heroics weren’t going to fail me now.

An image of Ellie came into my mind.

Her youthful being appeared in the form of a mental photograph.

It felt idiotic, and possibly regrettable, but I needed to save this man, knowing the promise I made to her, and myself.

Find answers. Save who I can.

We were only a few feet from the gates now. We had gained some form of speed to rush ahead of the army of the infected, but I have no idea how.

Pure luck was gonna be my answer to that.

I rearranged our position so that he was now leaning against the barricade walls, as I rushed to open the gates.

“Okay come on big guy.”

He moaned back, reassuring me that he wasn’t quite dead yet. He returned to his place with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, as my other arm was around his.

It wasn’t long before I closed the gates, leaving the both of us alone within the partitions of my own property.  

All while the diseased few left in defeat, scouring within the depths of the forest to ignite another hunt for prey.

#Uncharted 4 #uncharted #sam drake x oc #samuel drake x oc #sam drake x reader #nathan drake #samuel morgan #nathan morgan #elena fisher #nadine ross #rafe adler #victor sullivan #uncharted4athiefsend #tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #naughty dog

[runawaymarbles]

Good omens fic rec

A Letter from “Crawly” to Azirapil by mostlydeadlanguages | 500 Words | G

This remarkable letter of unknown provenance surfaced recently in the cuneiform collection of the University of West Wessex. Addressed to Azirapil from a Mr. “Crawly,” it appears to be begging for the other’s return to Ur from a western journey with another individual, Abiraham. The relationship between the two (brothers? business partners? friends?) is unknown.

404 Email Not Found by Dacelin | 700 words | G

The first the Metatron knew about Armageddon was when Aziraphale contacted him to beg for it to be called off. Being a professional, the Metatron murmured soothing things about it all being part of the plan and rerouted the call elsewhere instead of admitting he had no idea what the principality was talking about.

my black eye casts no shadow by gyzym | 1.5k | Not Rated, probably M 

If you cut humanity to the quick, split it open, found its soul, it would have dark red hair and bright wild eyes.

So You Need To Get Into A.Z. Fell & Co.; Now What? (A Guide For Unfortunate Bookworms) by arkhamcycle | 1.8k | G

London’s antique enthusiasts and rare lit nerds alike know that if you’re looking for a specific vintage or antique book, you have a good chance of ending up in A.Z. Fell & Co. as a last resort. And if you’ve ever been in (or are currently in) this predicament, you know how much of an absolute nightmare it is trying to even get in the door. Luckily, this handy guide, the fruit of a months-long collaborative effort to create the perfect formula for gaming the A.Z. Fell system, will tell you everything you need to know, complete with a comprehensive breakdown of what, exactly, the opening hours are. Compiled by pageknight and inky of the Rare Antique Forums.

Quiet Light by drawlight | 2k | T |

There are rules. The trouble with hearts is that they play by none of them.

between the shadow and the soul by absopositivelutely | 2k | NR

(alternatively: it takes 6000 years for crowley to realize that aziraphale could love him too.)

i just happen to like apples (i am not afraid of snakes) by gyzym | 2k | Not Rated

Written for the following prompt: "Someone write me Crowley the bitter lesbian who only gave Eve the apple because she thought feminism should be there from day one." As such, please be warned that this story contains some fairly radical reinterpretations of Biblical stories and themes; if that sort of thing is not for you, please give this tale a pass.

Secret Agent Man by Emamel | 2.3k | G | 

Edward was very good at two things: noticing things, and not being noticed in return. It was the sort of qualities that made you a good spy. These two never got the memo.

Ten Fathoms Deep On the Road to Hell by BuggreAlleThis | 2.5k | G

Aziraphale is given an assignment as a Captain in the Royal Navy and finds life at sea miserable. Crowley, on the other hand, is having plenty of fun as the Captain of a motley pirate crew.

Untitled Goose Fic by rattatatosk | 3k | T

It's a lovely week in the South Downs, and Crowley is at war with a Horrible Goose.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian | 3k | G 

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals. The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water) by drawlight | 3k | T | 

It's an odd thing, getting on after the End of the World. Crowley takes to sea-watching.

Stopgap by RC_McLachlan | 3k | T | 

"Can you imagine ruining something so frustratingly perfect just to get a leg up with Management?" Crowley then remembers who he's talking to and why he's here in the first place. "Sorry, bad example, of course you can." A missing scene from Episode 6.

Wednesdays Are for This by magpiespirit | 3k | T

"D'you think we should have sex," he asks idly, pressing post on his addition to the exclusive How to Summon and Bind Demons forum. This one, he's sure, will both give Hell several annoying headaches and make a dent in the problem of demonology rising in the incel community. Bless, he loves having free time. "I think," Aziraphale replies frankly, giving Crowley a really, now look over the rims of his stupid glasses and the top of a first edition of something that probably uses a hundred words to say what could be said in five, "that should is a word best left to Heaven and Hell." And Crowley, who was only looking to fluster the angel a little, belatedly remembers that he's gotten commendations for Aziraphale's temptations.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym | 3.5k | T | 

Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

The Plantom Menace by theinkwell33 | 3.6k | G 

There is an urban legend well known in this area regarding The Plant Man. Footage exists, blurry and ill-lit, of the trespassing fiend, but it never provides a good look at his face. He exists only as a rumor; a giggled whisper in someone’s ear at the pub, an inside joke at uni, and a viral sensation. None of these things mean he is not real. That being said, the only person who can corroborate the truth about the Plant Man is the man himself. And unfortunately, Anthony J. Crowley has no idea that it’s him.

get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza | 4k | G |

So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

to carthage then i came by Lvslie | 4k | T | 

‘You’re difficult to follow sometimes.’ ‘Difficult?’ Crowley echoes, feeling hollow. ‘Am I too fast? Am I going—’ And just like that, there’s something new in the silence between them, a tightening. The glass almost slips from his grasp, sliding from between languid fingers. His vision clouds. —too fast for you?’

Snakes and Stones (Never Broke My Bones) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee | 4.5k | G

No one wants to say it, but the residents of Dorm A, floor 3, are collectively convinced Aziraphale Fell’s boyfriend does not exist. This is their story.

as the poets say by nikkiRA | 4.6k | T

Crowley takes a long drink of his wine and then says, before he can chicken out, “Aziraphale, I have always been sure about you.”

Re-Recalled by Jennistar | 5k | T |

Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

the bookshop nemesis witch by FlipSpring | 5k | G

The life and times of Nicole Percival Castings, Witch. Featuring: her ongoing love/rivalry with a particular magical bookstore, an Eccentric(TM) shopkeeper who keeps a huge snake in aforementioned bookstore, finding oneself and one's magical power, the cyclicality of life.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote | 5k | T 

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder | 5.5k | G | 

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we?CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all.  AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

your apple-eating heathen by katarzi | G | 5.7k

History is written without them, and Crowley’s no lady.

the blues have run the game by indigostohelit | 6k | NC-17 (more of an M)

Halfway between the Beginning and the Apocalypse, Crowley visits the court of King Saul, and runs into a prince, a war camp, and a songbook. 

the earth has never felt this old by brawlite | 6k | T

Crowley has a long history with holy places.

TwoFish by Grindylowe | 6k | T | 

A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish

A Nice and Accurate Lesbian Herstory Archive by badwig | T | 6.6k

More or less just the opening montage from 'Hard Times' but they're lesbians - a series of vignettes from the Garden to now.

parable of shepherds by Lvslie | 6k | T |

‘Aziraphale, you need to stop telling that goddamned story to everyone we stumble upon,’ she hisses. ‘I’m serious. You keep it up much longer, everyone’s gonna think we’ve gone and murdered that alleged husband of mine. ‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says blithely, a serene smile plastered to her face as a familiar-looking man passes by, ‘Dear. That’s what I want them to think.’

Nothing Like The Sun by mirawonderfulstar | 6k | T |

One tended to go through a number bodies in six thousand years, even if one was as cautious or sturdy as Aziraphale. Crowley, who was neither cautious nor sturdy, had gone through a large number. He’d changed appearance so many times that in Aziraphale’s memory he was often just his eyes, for no matter if Crowley was tall or short, lithe or stocky, blond or raven-haired, his eyes stayed the same. 

Blessed/Cursed Retirement by DictionaryWrites | 7k | T

Liam Buttersby, a very normal, nine-year-old boy, makes a friend in the retiree who has recently moved to his village in the South Downs. The retiree in question claims to hate it, and is a liar.

the technology is neutral by Deputychairman | 7k | NC-17 | 

“Stand up?” he echoed, incredulous but too undone by sensation to express the full force of his disbelief. “I can barely even remember my own name after that, and you want me to stand up?” “Your name is Anthony J Crowley, apparently, although you never did tell me what the J stood for so I can’t help you there,” he said, not hiding his smile. “Do stand up, I promise you’ll like it.”

Part of the Plan by HardlyFair | 7k | T |

In which things do not return to the exact way they were Before.

Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth | 7.5k | M | 

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

The Ark by rfsmiley | 7k | T 

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

Ad Astra by drawlight | 8K | NC-17

Some things can only be said in the dark.

except you enthrall me, never shall be free by curtaincall | 8k | T

It's a classic story: Angel meets knight. Angel volunteers to get beheaded by knight. Knight turns out to be angel's demon frenemy. Somehow, there is kissing. Based on the Middle English ballad Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Falling Rain by Aria | 8k | T |

Once upon a time, an angel and a demon hitched a ride on the Ark.

such surpassing brightness by Handful_of_Silence | 8k | G | 

The revelation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

Without Creativity by htebazytook | 8k | NC-17 |

Another Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages fic, with some heavy symbolism thrown in for good measure.

Exit Wounds by racketghost | 8k | T

“At least they were together for a time,” Crowley says, staring at the lit end of his cigarette, “maybe that’s enough.”

On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate | 9k | T

“On the matter of touch,” Crowley begins, waving his teaspoon in what he hopes passes for idle curiosity. “Thoughts?”

and, so on by PaintedVanilla | 9k | M | 

Crowley doesn’t remember heaven, but Aziraphale remembers him.

Going Home by Daegaer | 9k | G | 

Aziraphale is recalled to Heaven, Crowley isn't impressed.

The future's going to break through by nieded | 10k | T

My take on South Downs: Aziraphale and Crowley decide to become professors. This is inspired by the headcanon that Crowley has 20 different degrees. He is the Serpent of the Tree of Knowledge after all.

Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture | M | 10k 

Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

The Gospel of Crowley by gutterandthestars | 10k | T

Crowley tempts Jesus in the wilderness! Turns out Jesus gives as good as he gets. Also Crowley pines over Aziraphale and has Big Gay Angsty Feelings because, well. Because Crowley.

A Nanny? In MY Summoning Circle? by pukner | 10k | Not Rated

(it's more likely than you think) Warlock "Lockie" Dowling summons a demon. Or, he buys a book off a suspiciously familiar bookseller and is convinced into demon summoning. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

damn.nation, now available on itunes by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | 10k | T

When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell. This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

Lie Back And Think Of Dinner by jessthereckless | 11k | M |

"Crowley, this is a disaster. This is everything I ever wanted. We’re in love. And there’s a picnic. And we don’t seem to be able to get…amorous without causing earthquakes.” Aziraphale attempts subterfuge. Crowley sees right through him.

Something to do with these sacred words by Solshine | 11k | T

Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

A Resurrection of Whales, and Other Omens of Varying Goodness by Margo_Kim | 11k | WIP | T

After the end of the world doesn't end anything, Heaven and Hell send replacements to Earth while the old representatives try to figure out their new normal.

Serpentine by sergeant_smudge | 11k | G |

Five ways in which Crowley is a snake. *And one more thing.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme | 11k | T 

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

Basking by bomberqueen17 | 15k | NC-17

Crowley is extremely confused about how or whether celestial beings can experience physical sexual desire. He's also not fantastic at using his words. Things go all... snake-shaped.

Nanny Knows Best by DictionaryWrites | 17k | M

Being a nanny, that should be simple. Simple. Easy as pie. Crowley wished that were true.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan | 17k | NC-17

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?” Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."

Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly | 18.3k | NC-17

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

The Persephone Clause by Zetared | 20k | T |

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

in search of the wind by drawlight | 27k | NC-17

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

And So We Come Full Circle by Hekateras | 30k | T | 

"Angel. You know it's gonna be really bad, this time around," Crowley says slowly. "When the times comes, I want you to-"

Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 | 44k | T

Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world...

Slow Show by mia_ugly | 90k | NC-17

In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm | 100k | T

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Eden!verse by ImprobableDreams900 | 550k | T-M

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fic rec #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #i saved some of these years ago i should reread them #op

[vannahfanfics]

Ooooo there's a part of me that really wants to challenge you and ask for Drake and Nami (can be shippy or general) for the prompt "Snow."

Voila, my dearest! Your challenge was pretty fun to write, and so I hope you have just as much fun reading it! :3

Frenemies 

“Oh shit.”

Nami could not think of anything more eloquent or lady-like to exclaim in her situation, not that there was anyone around to critique. She shuddered and pitifully rubbed her bare, paling arms as the snow whirled around her in frantic flurries and shuffled her feet constantly as the cold moisture soaked into the absorbent fabric of her boots, all while staring wide-eyed at the dismantled mess that was the Weatheria hot air balloon she may or may not have taken for an unauthorized joy ride. She had only wanted to jaunt around in the sky for the bit, had that been too much to ask? The crash wasn’t even a result of her inability to pilot the massive thing; par for the Grand Line course, a giant bird had taken affront to its territory being invaded and attacked it with a razor-sharp beak, tearing the fabric asunder and sending Nami plummeting down. She had only just managed to land on the shore of a nearby island, but unfortunately it bore a winter climate.

Nami had not been dressed for the occasion in the slightest, having only prepared for the warm and sunshiney sea; as such, she was wearing far less than the required clothing, a tank top and some shorts. “I’m so screwed,” she whined pitifully and hung her head. The snow crunched under her feet as she trudged back to the destroyed hot air balloon; she could buy a few hours of time by basking in the lingering warmth of the trapped gases under the fabric, at least. She grabbed the wicker basket and turned it about such that it faced opposite the direction of the wind, then snuggled herself inside. The gas was slowly leaking out from under the billowing fabric, which provided a small dome of heat for the marooned navigator. Still, she knew that it wouldn’t last very long; she just had to hope and pray that someone would come for her. From the air, even though she was spiraling out of control, she had not spied any sort of settlement on the relatively small island. It looked completely abandoned, and therefore marching through a blizzard scantily clad as she was would constitute no less than a death wish. Nami rubbed her numbing fingers before placing them in the bubble of dissipating heat, hoping to stave of frostbite for as long as she could.

The cold crept in slowly, like a lioness stalking her like the meek prey Nami was, all while the snow continued to rain down endlessly. A healthy bit of it had piled up on the edge of the wicker basket; due to the lingering heat, the bottom portion was gradually melting into icy water, seeping through the woven wood strips to drip down onto her already chilled frame. It splashed against the numb skin of her shoulder with steady, repetitive splashes, and Nami imagined it as the ticking of a clock; first, a steady progression towards her rescue, but as time continued to pass, the nagging thought began to form in her mind- that it was a countdown to her freezing to death. She was not sure how much time had passed at all when the first shiver gripped her body; fifteen minutes? Fifteen hours? It was so hard to tell with only the dripping to tell time, as the dense gray clouds above hid the sun.

She was shuddering hard now, shaking the wicker basket with every wracking tremor. The snow sloughed off the edge of the basket to begin piling up beside her, progressively building a thick wall between herself and her continuously dwindling heat source. Every time that Nami swept her arm over the rising snow mound, the snowflakes countered by sinking into her flesh with sharp little teeth, spreading even more numbness across her already cold, unfeeling body. She would then desperately hug her arm to her chest, praying her body heat would revitalize it just a little bit.

By the time the breath was fogging in little puffy clouds before her face, her eyes were beginning to droop. Sleepiness was never a good sign but Nami could not muster the will to fight it. Her arms and legs were beginning to feel like ice itself, blocky and rigid and so, so cold. The ends of her fingers were white as the piling snow outside, as all the heat had begun to drain from her extremities to protect her core from the spreading chill plague. Her head lolled to the side, bumping against the wicker basket as she struggled against embracing the allure of restful sleep. Only for a few minutes… I’ll just rest until help gets here… she thought in the wintery haze. She was very aware of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but it was strange, because it sounds like boots crunching against hard snow. Hope flared in her chest at the realization, and she managed to turn her stiffened neck to look out the basket’s open end. Was someone here to save her? The fabric of the hot air balloon had flattened out, only occasionally rippling with the tug of insistent winds; Nami was out of time. She opened her mouth to call out to whoever could be there, but the words were frozen in her throat. There was no mistaking it now; they were footsteps, they had to be-! Somehow, she managed a feeble whimper just barely audible above the whistling snowy winds. Please-! I’m right here!

Nami felt like she was going to cry as a navy-blue gloved hand curled over the edge of the basket. The snow was pushed around into heaps as the person effortlessly whirled the basket about to peer inside. Nami’s heart instantly plummeted and she felt incredibly nauseous, her hopes dashed in a matter of seconds. Her savior- if she could even call him that considering what could happen next- was none other than notorious Navy officer-turned-ruthless pirate X Drake. With another meek whimper, she pressed herself into the corner of the wicker basket looking the entire picture of a sopping kitten, dampened by the leaking ice water; to think that Cat Thief Nami had been reduced to such a state. It was pathetic, but Nami really didn’t have much in the way of an arsenal to combat it. Terrifying scenarios began to bounce through her half-frozen mind.

What if he kidnaps me and turns me in for the reward? What if he manages to track down someone else from the crew and tries to ransom me off? What would he do to me in the meantime? What if he has no intention of pawning me off at all and keeps me around as some form of morbid entertainment? What if he just kills me off right now? Her eyes had dilated greatly from terror and her breath was coming in shallow, high-pitched bursts now. With the remainder of her strength, she reached for her Climatact strapped to her leg.

“St-stay away!” she warned him. Despite her sorry state, she still managed to pour plenty of venom into her shaky voice. X Drake just stared at her levelly, his blank expression never shifting. Nami had no idea what was running through his mind at all.

“There’s no reason for you to be afraid. I have no intention of harming you.”

“Fat chance of that! You’re a pirate, a traitorous ex-Navy pirate at that!” she spat. That seemed to get at least a slight rise out of him, as his ginger eyebrows arched down over his dark eyes, just barely shadowed by the curved brim of his hat. “Why should I trust you?”

“You’ll freeze to death otherwise. Believe me or not, you don’t have much choice but to trust me here.” His reasoning was maddeningly sound. Nami didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have the time to wait around from someone from Weatheria any longer; she could very realistically die within the hour. Biting down on her lip in frustration, she frantically wracked her mind for any other alternative before uttering a very simple, curt “Fine.”

Drake stepped away from the basket as she shifted on her hands and knees to crawl out; it was more effort than she would’ve ever imagined. Her limbs had grown as stiff as oak wood from spending the entire time curled up in a single position, which was exacerbated by the freezing cold. Her palms burned like they were afire as she plunged her hands into the deep snow, and she wasted no time in pushing herself to her feet. She almost fell right back down, however, as her knees knocked together wildly from how hard her body was shaking. She hated that she presented such a meek, weak figure to the tall, menacing pirate, and to combat that image some she made sure her face was twisted into a very distrustful scowl.

“What a fierce woman you are,” he laughed heartily, not intimidated in the slightest. Her shrugged out of his fur-lined coat and held it out to her. Nami’s pride dictated that she accepted no pity and that she march on through the blizzard clad as she was, but holy hell, she could feel his intense body heat radiating from the garment, whispering sweet nothings of warmth and comfort. Nami threw her pride out the window and pretty much dove into the coat, sliding her arms through the long, wide sleeves and nearly melted into a puddle on the spot. Is was gargantuan on her, falling down to the middle of her calves and requiring her to roll up the sleeves several times, but that just seemed to make it all the more a bundle of life-giving heat. She found herself immediately relaxing despite the presence of the man beside her. Feels so good… she thought, her mind now muddled by the lovely warmth. She only looked at X Drake when he began to chuckle good-naturedly at her, and it was then that she noticed that he was dressed in a great many layers. It was freezing, no doubt, but not that excessive.

Right… His Devil Fruit power is reptile-based. Is his weakness the cold? She wondered. It would make sense. Considering that, the fact that he had trekked across the island to investigate the balloon crash and offer her the very nice coat chipped away slightly at her mistrust of him. Rumors weren’t everything; maybe, just maybe, Nami had been lucky to land before a pirate captain who carried some form of chivalry.

“I am curious. Where did you come from?” he inquired as he kicked the destroyed fabric of the balloon with a small frown. “I had heard rumor that the Straw Hats had been scattered after the events at Marineford. Considering you are alone and piloting this thing, I surmise that is true.” Should she tell him? Weatheria was very close; he might even offer to bring her there. Then again, would she put the weather wizards of Weatheria in danger by revealing her location? If he ever desired to exploit the fact that Nami was separated from the monstrous members of her crew, he could jaunt over and kidnap her like it was a Sunday walk. His eyes flickered to her, intense but not menacing. “I see you are still mistrustful of me. Very well then, I won’t pry.”

“You can rest assured in the fact that someone will come for me eventually, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“’Rest assured’? I think not. I hid out on this island to avoid the Marines; it isn’t much of a secret hideaway if someone knows that I’m here,” he pointed out with a voice that had finally taken some edge. She swallowed nervously; it was beginning to seem that she was right in not trusting him. He made no move, however, only watched her guardedly, and she knew her next move would determine her fate. Nami decided to bet that some honesty might get her out of this unscathed.

“I came from Weatheria. The weather wizards don’t have much interest in the squabbles between pirates and the Marines. If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.” The corner of his mouth twitched in what have may have been an attempt at a smile, and then he straightened up to his full intimidating height, towering over her as he tried to gauge the truth of her statement. Nami felt highly uncomfortable under his interrogative stare but did her best not to quail.

“Very well.” As he whirled on his heel to begin tromping away, she was a little unnerved on how easily he accepted her statement. She really couldn’t get a read on the guy, and she really prided herself on her ability to measure people up.

It was then that Nami noticed that the cold was beginning to seep back into her skin, despite the very padded coat. Right! My clothes are soaking wet. He raised an eyebrow at her as she drew har arms into the body of the coat and began to fidget around. “What are you-“ he didn’t finish his sentence as he saw Nami’s shorts drop into the snow, and his face immediately blazed a rich shade of crimson. “Why are you getting naked?!” he cried and whirled around with a hand over his eyes, though Nami was more than concealed by the coat.

“My clothes are wet. The coat won’t do any good if I’m still wearing them,” she answered while nonchalantly pulling her shirt through the neck of the jacket. It dropped against her shorts with a wet plop, and Drake let out a strangled gasp. A smirk appeared on Nami’s lips. So, the big, bad X Drake is shy around women? Good to know, she thought. She decided to keep her underwear on, because she didn’t trust him nearly enough to go completely commando with him around yet. She bent down to pick up the sopping wet clothes, then looked up to find him tromping several feet ahead of her.

“Come on, unless you want to die out here,” he called to her without even looking over his shoulder. He was probably mortified by his raging blush. Resigning herself to the fate that would at least prolong her survival, Nami hurried after him. It was a struggle for several reasons: her small stride was dwarfed by his, covering at least a foot and a half per step, and the snow had piled up to her knees. She had to hold up the hem of the coat as she literally waded through the thick white powder, while Drake was just moseying along with the stuff barely coming up to his calf. Nami very quickly fell behind, huffing and puffing; she was fairly certain that she had developed a fever to combat hypothermia as well, for her skin was flushing an angry red color and sweat was pooling on her forehead and making her tangerine hair stick uncomfortably to her scalp. After a point, Drake glanced back to see her several yards behind attempting to push her way through a snow drift. “Do you want help?”

“No!” she barked back at him, face twisted in a determined frown. She had already presented herself to be a damsel in distress enough today, and like hell she was going to let him carry her the rest of the way. With a jerk, she forced her leg through the wall of snow and stepped down, only to find that it concealed a very large hole. With a shrill shriek, her entire body sank down to her shoulders, with her arms splayed out over the top of the snowbank and her head tilted back to keep from getting a mouthful of the stuff. Immediately her skin bristled at the intense cold, and she very shrilly squeaked, “Yes, help me, please.” X Drake was chortling to himself as he strode effortlessly through the snowdrift to pluck her up by the back of her hood, lifting her like a kitten by its scruff. She dangled in the air for a second as he allowed her to brush as much of the wet snow from her body as possible.

Thankfully he decided not to carry her bridal-style or another degrading manner, but piggyback-style. His shoulders were so broad that Nami’s arms could barely meet around his neck, and it was an effort to hook her legs around his hips. She really didn’t complain, though, as the sheer amount of furnace-like heat rolling off his body chased away the rest of the cold and left her warm and content. It was even better that he was blushing bright pink from head-to-tow since he was very aware that she had naught but underwear on beneath his coat; Nami found that so amusing. Still, it was a little embarrassing clinging to him like some kind of little spider monkey. “Why are you doing all this?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity. She could count on one hand the number of pirate captains who would take it upon themselves to rescue her asking nothing in return, much less let her parade around mostly naked under their coat without giving her more grief.

“I may have defected from the Navy, but that doesn’t mean I have become completely ruthless. A man has his own personal code of values, and chivalry towards women is in mine,” he answered with a small shrug, but given his size, he very nearly pushed her off and she had to wrap her arms tight around his neck to keep that from happening. “I would have to be a total monster to leave a young woman to freeze to death in the snow.”

“I know of several members of the Worst Generation who would do just that, or ‘rescue’ me only to hold me hostage or ransom me to the Marines,” she grumbled. His shoulders shook with a rumbling laugh.

“They don’t call us ‘the Worst Generation’ for nothing, indeed. I suppose you should count yourself lucky, Nami.” As she thought; he knew exactly who she was. Still, she was beginning to feel at ease with the ginger-haired pirate’s companionship; he seemed to have no ulterior motives and had not attempted to molest her in any way as of yet. She was still on her guard just in case it was all a front, but at the very least, he was easy to talk to. “Tell me, why is it the Straw Hats have decided to go their separate ways?”

“We’re training to take on the New World,” she answered. It wasn’t like he could use that information specifically for much of anything, so why lie? The Paramount War had been broadcasted on Saboady Archipelago for all to see; everyone knew that Luffy only escaped by the skin of his teeth, and was severely injured. The only reason that rumors weren’t flying that he had died was because he had declared war on the World Government only a few days later.

“And the World Government,” he mused as she thought about the incident. “Straw Hat sure is a bold one. He has a very loyal crew, for them to be willing to join in his crusade against them. The World Government isn’t a bunch of pushovers.”

“I believe in him one hundred percent! He’s going to be King of the Pirates, after all!” she insisted and was completely unabashed to do so. X Drake laughed heartily again, seemingly finding her confidence very entertaining rather than insulting. “Why’re you laughing? You’re shooting for the title too, aren’t you?”

“I have my goals and ambitions, yes,” he mused while looking back at her with glittering eyes, “but I would be a fool not to admit that the boy has potential. The fact that you speak so confidently of him is a testament to his charisma and uncanny ability to draw people to his cause.” Nami found herself smiling broadly, because he was right. Even his enemies found themselves admiring of him; he was just that special. The smile drooped like her lead hot air balloon as he added, “However, don’t think that I will be singing his praises if we meet in the new world. I won’t simply allow him to become Pirate King because I think he’s neat.”

“Bring it on. He’ll kick your ass,” she said bluntly. Another round of booming laughter. She had heard tales of his brutality and menace, but Nami was beginning to think that when he wasn’t a rampaging dinosaur, he was a pretty laid-back guy. It was almost a shame that the next time they did meet they would be enemies, because she almost liked him.

“We’ll see about that,” he responded in a contented hum. He suddenly stopped walking and looked up, frowning; Nami followed suit and could not silence an overjoyed cry as she saw the unmistakable form of a hot air balloon drifting through the billowing gray clouds. “It seems that the weather wizards have come to retrieve you after all,” he remarked wryly. No doubt, Nami’s shock of orange hair was visible against the harsh backdrop of white, as the hot air balloon immediately began to descend towards them. With a huff, Nami hopped down from X Drake’s back, landing in the snow. It wasn’t that deep there, and her boots were able to keep most of the cold out, as they had dried some while she was being hauled on his back. “Until next time, then,” he remarked with a tip of his hat and turned to walk away, cloak flapping in the winter wind.

“Wait! Thank you for everything.”

“Do you think it wise to thank your enemy? He may hold it against you someday,” he remarked cryptically, but looked back at her with a wry smile.

“Then let’s be frenemies!” He gave her an absolutely dumfounded look, to which Nami responded with a beaming grin. “Y’know, we’re enemies when it’s necessary, but the rest of the time, we’re friends!” He blinked at her, every stage of grief passing through his expression, before he let out a snort of laughter.

“Straw Hat certainly keeps amusing company,” he remarked. Nami giggled and stuck out her tongue a little as she smiled charmingly. The hot air balloon had since descended well into range, and a rope ladder dropped down to dangle right above the snow beside her.

“So, again, thank you. Oh! I should give you your coat back!” Nami cried and began wriggling out of the garment, causing Drake to blush furiously and whirl around.

“No! Keep it!” Nami laughed, because of course she had no intention stripping down to her negligee in front of the ex-Marine. She hopped up onto the rope ladder, and the weather wizard in the basket far above her head began pulling it little by little back into the hot air balloon. Nami tossed a wink and a smile over her shoulder at the still-blushing pirate captain.

“See ya in the New World! I hope it’s under good circumstances!” she called down to him before climbing up the rungs of woven rope. It certainly wasn’t an encounter she had been expecting to have in the limbo that was this two year-training period, but hey, Nami wasn’t entirely ungrateful. The more enemies she could charm for Luffy’s sake, the better! Besides, conversing with X Drake wasn’t really that bad. If things were different, she could almost imagine the Straw Hats idolizing him.

Alas, they already had their idol in the form of a dorky, airheaded, optimistic but reliable straw hat-wearing boy destined for greatness. Sorry, X Drake, but frenemies it’s gotta be!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

Tag List: @searchfortheonepiece

#one piece #nami #cat thief nami #x drake #diez drake #general fluff #fluff #friendship #fanfiction #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #oneshot #oneshot collection

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Memories

I present to you Kinesis: Chapter 20, please feel free to look for all previous and future chapters on my Master List and under the “Kinesis” tag :) Love you all!

Warnings: Battle scene continued - read at your own discretion

[MC]

Memories

The warmth where Ranmaru’s grip had been was the only thing you could concentrate on. Why? Why had he done that? Why were you like this? Why were you always the one being saved? Why couldn’t you help anyone? Anger rose as fast as the burning in your veins and the magic inside of your crackled, itching to be set free. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard Shingen and Mitsuhide talking. They wanted to run away? They were just going to leave everyone here to fend for themselves while you ran and hid? You felt a tug on your arm as the air around you stilled, this time the hand that grabbed you was cold despite how familiar it was.  

You mind danced on the edge of a memory and just as you caught up to it, to Mitsuhide, there was a pop like someone had shot a hole through glass. That was when everything came rushing back in. Closing your eyes, you let it all wash over you, watching as the memories filled the blank spaces in your mind.

You were arguing with your maid, Margo, about the outfit they had put you in for the state dinner. The clothes were terrible, much too heavy to move around in with too many bobbles and sequins and twelve year old you was having none of it. Your entire body went rigid, and when you screamed the stone of the castle rattled and glass could be heard shattering. It didn’t take long before your family came rushing in, ready to defend you. 

“Rhian what’s wrong!” Your mother looked around the room confused, noticing just you, Margo, and the discarded party attire. 

“I don’t want to wear this, how is anyone supposed to move in that much fabric?” Your father and siblings bursting into happy laughter at your admission.

“Soliel, darling, why not let Rhian wear what they want?” He nudged your mother as a smile slowly crept up her features.. 

“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” She said to Margo, before turning a severe eye on you. “You are not to wear anything too casual, do you understand me?”

Appeased, you shook your head happily, running to your closet. When you opened the door, the scenery around you morphed, your breathing grew labored and your body hot. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught your brother Kai closing in on you. You did your best to push a controlled amount of energy to your feet. Using the burst to dodge, you flipped backward out of the way barely missing his fist, now engulfed in flames. 

“Would you look at that. Finally figured it out did ya?” You could have slapped the smirk off his stupid face, but your mother intervened. 

“Very well done, both of you.” Her usual grin sat happily on her face as you and your brother drank your water and made faces at one another. 

“You guys were so awesome!” You sister, Astrid remarked as she bounced over to join the group. “Though if it were me Rhian was sparing with, I would have landed the hit.”

“Oh, shut up, you would not have.” Kai shot back.

“Would too!” Astrid’s hands now planted on her hips. 

“Prove it.” You brother challenged as the two of them fell into a fighting stance facing you. 

“No! Absolutely not! I refuse to play this game.” Your voice was unamused as they crept towards you, embers popping off of their fingertips. 

“Who said it was a game?” They said in unison as you took off towards the opposite side of the gym. 

As you ran the navy walls melted into a sea of people, your sister calling you by your middle name. It was the alias you went by when you were out in public. You knew what was about to happen. You didn’t want to relive this. 

“(YN), I heard they finished early, if we head out now we’ll be able to-” Before she could finish your parents took to the stage as you inched forward to try and join them. Just as you reached the foot of the stairs, the ringing in your ears returned, and it happened. 

Explosions sounded off through the square, you moved in front of your siblings to put up a barrier only for you mother to let loose a wave of energy, ripping apart any defense you had just created. You were pulled forward at lightning speed, head smacking the cobblestone street as your consciousness was torn from your body and thrown into the Arcane. 

Surrounded by the deep purple mist you fought for clarity, the fog crackling with energy as you swam through the swampy air searching for an out. The familiar clicking of heels stopped you dead in your tracks, but you refused to turn around. 

“Rhian (YN) Kadupul.” You mother spoke. “Face me.”

Unable to ignore the direct order and the seriousness in your mother’s voice you did as you were told. Slowly turning on your heel, the storm around you grew, teeming with pent up energy. She looked just like she had the last time you saw her, though much more opaque, clearly a spirit or a figment of your imagination. “Mother.” You greeted bowing low, trying to hide the emotions clearly visible on your face.

“We don’t have much time but I need you to take this.” With swift fingers she removed the circlet from her forehead, the one with sweeping gold lines adorned with the brightest amethysts you had ever seen. Your favorite one. “With this crown, I bestow upon you my power and my throne. Will you accept?”

With tears streaming down your face, you nodded, “Of course,” was all you could manage as you stepped forward and kneeled before the Queen, your mother.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t do more.” Gently you felt her sweep your bangs from your face, the cold metal now situated where the warmth of her touch had been.

All you could do was nod, and watch as the fog consumed you. This time though, when you opened your eyes, you weren’t staring up at fluorescent lights. You were staring at a battlefield, watching your friends fight the same man who helped kill your family. 

You knew Mitsuhide had asked you a question, despite not knowing what it was, you faced the three men who seemed to want nothing more than to get Ranmaru out of there and keep you safe. There was shock on their faces, but you couldn’t sit back and watch this time. You wouldn’t let the people you cared about go that easily. 

Looking them in the eyes, you let the magic in your veins sear new spells into your skin. Smiling as the memory of the cold metal of your mother’s circlet ignited and burned the same way the energy inside of you did. 

“I remember.” Was all you felt needed to be said. Surely if anyone would recognize you it would be those three. 

You pulled from the energy of Kennyo’s barrier, making a mental note to apologize for stealing some of his magic, before letting it all loose. The air around you crackled as the runes you unwitting drew all-around camp bloomed to life, lifting a wall of energy into the sky trapping everyone within its menacing glow. Gael and his men may have gotten in, but you’d see to it that they would never make it back out.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #kinesis #ikesen reader insert #ikesen self insert #reader insert #my story

[thecomicsnexus]

Aquaman #1-4. November/2011 - February/2012. By Geoff Johns, Ivan Reis and Joe Prado.

At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, a new race of creatures awaken. They are shocked there is an 'up'. They make their way to the surface speaking a strange language.

In Boston, The Boston Police Department are chasing a group of criminals stealing a bank truck. Aquaman appears and defeats the group of thugs as he shrugs off the bullets from their guns. The police sarcastically thank him and offer back-handed comments about him needing water. Aquaman gives them a glance and jumps away. The officers snicker they'll be made fun of for being upstaged by Aquaman.

Arthur heads to Sam's for a simple meal but people harass him with questions. He orders the fish and chips which shocks the patrons as they thought he was their friend. He explains he uses telepathy to reach into a fish's midbrains to influence them to help him. A reporter beligerantly asks him questions about being how he makes money and asks him how he feels about being the superhero 'joke'. Arthur briefly daydreams about eating in the booth he's sitting in with his father a long time ago. Arthur takes more abuse from the patrons and decides to to leave. Aquaman gives two golden coins to a waitress, telling her to put her kids through college.

At night in the Curry Lighthouse, Aquaman stands in the shore and reminisces about a time when he was a child with his father. As they watched the sea, Aquaman asked his father why was he a lighthouse keeper when he could be the captain of his own ship. His father replies that the captains needed someone on land to help them watch the shores, and that it is called responsibility.

As he finishes dwelling on his memories, Mera comes to Aquaman and asks if he is okay. Aquaman tells her that he made his choice and wishes to remain in the surface to have a new life with Mera. He has no interest in being the king of Atlantis and says they need to find a new king. They kiss and embrace.

In the ocean, a group of fishermen are bucked and one falls into the ocean. When the monsters see the fishermen, they remark in their own strange language, "Food is up here", as the color of blood fills the water where the fisherman fell.

The fishing boat continues to be attacked by the creatures from the ocean. The creatures see a lighthouse in the distances and remark that more food must be nearby.

At the Curry Lighthouse, Arthur and Mera are viewing pictures from Arthur's childhood. When they come across a picture of Arthur with his father and another man, a knock at the door from a police officer Wilson interrupts them. He tells them he's been seeking their help by stopping by all major lighthouses. The officer tells Arthur and Mera that monsters kidnapped everyone in the coast of Beachrock last night and they need his help to locate the kidnappers.

Wilson takes Aquaman and Mera to the crime scene, which is crowded by the U.S. Coast Guard and the U.S. Navy. Aquaman uses his telepathy to look for any lifeforms in the ocean, but he is shocked to find there are none.

Scuba-divers find some kind of cocoon that they lift to the dock. Aquaman senses something alive in a nearby boat and tells everyone to stand back. Then, a group of Trench appear and attack Aquaman and Mera. Using her hydrokinesis, Mera prevents the Trench from reaching the civilians while Aquaman attacks them with his trident. However, Aquaman is briefly incapacitated by a Trench, who knocks the trident off him and proclaims that the "food", Aquaman, will be taken to the Trench.

Arthur recalls his dad watching the sun rise from a pier. Shedding a tear, Tom wishes that Atlanna, Arthur's mother, could be here and see how much Arthur has grown. Arthur comes to his father and asks him why does he come to the pier every sunrise, and Tom replies that he wants to be there when his mother returns.

In the present, Aquaman and Mera continue fighting The Trench. The largest of the pack screams in their strange language to "bring food home" and the Trench begin to retreat back into the ocean with several of the civilians from the shore. Aquaman and Mera wonder where are the Trench going and investigate the cocoon the Trench made. Aquaman opens it revealing a dog. A wounded Trench appears, but is quickly shot to death by local police. The military tries to take the body for study, but Aquaman and Mera take the body and leave.

Aquaman and Mera heads to a house in the coast, where a man named Stephen Shin lives. Aquaman tells Mera that Shin was a friend of his father's who taught him how to use his powers. He also mentions Shin attempted to kill Aquaman because he would not take him to Atlantis.

Entering Shin's house, Aquaman and Mera ask Shin to perform an autopsy on the Trench body they recovered and Shin reluctantly agrees. Shin deduces that the creature is a new type of sea lifeform that lives in the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, out of the Trench. Shin wants to keep the body, believing it will help restore his credibility, but Aquaman won't let him. Desperate, Shin asks Aquaman where is Atlantis, but Aquaman simply leaves.

As Aquaman and Mera swim to the depths of the ocean to find the creatures's lair, Mera asks what will they do once they find the victims. Aquaman replies that they don't know what the creatures are yet. Mera believes that if the victims are food, then they must desperate for food and that they must be on the verge of extinction. Aquaman replies that if that's true, then the creatures are just trying to survive, just like they are.

Aquaman and Mera descend to a volcanic vent using monkfish to light their path. They find a wrecked craft, which has been there for centuries. Aquaman and Mera recognize the ship as Atlantean, one that predated the sinking of Atlantis. They discover a breach in the hull, deducing it was caused by the Trench, who fed on the ship's crew.

As Aquaman and Mera continue their journey, the monkfish abandon them, as their survival instincts were overriding Aquaman's telepathy. Mera believes that the best course of action is to seal the trench to prevent the creatures from attacking the surface. Aquaman is unsure as that would mean the death of an entire species. Mera says the creatures are mindless savages who only harm the world. Aquaman replies that the Atlanteans say the same thing about humanity.

Suddenly, Aquaman and Mera find a Trench spawn, which quickly dies. Aquaman and Mera conclude the spawn was mutated and created through inbreeding. Continuing down the tunnel, Aquaman and Mera pass through several Trench corpses, and Mera says that the Trench are a dying race.

Aquaman and Mera reach a massive room with two large creatures inside, which Mera recognizes as the king and queen of the creatures. The room is also filled with Trench soldiers and cocoons with the captured people inside. Aquaman and Mera push the wall containing the cocoons out of the room. Mera takes the cocoon to safety while Aquaman faces the queen and its soldiers. Aquaman throws his trident to the volcanic vent, unleashing a massive lava stream that kills the queen. Aquaman then meets up with Mera and pushes a large rock to the vent, sealing it up and trapping the creatures underneath. With the monsters no longer a threat, Aquaman and Mera bring the captured people home.

Later at Beachrock, the authorities take care of the captured people and one of the victims, a mother, is reunited with his son, who tells Aquaman he is his favorite superhero. Aquaman and Mera return home.

At their house, Arthur laments the decision he had to take regarding the Trench, but Mera tells him he did the right thing. Deputy Wilson appears at their door and presents Aquaman with a dog, which, according to Wilson, belonged to Janet Reed, one of the deceased victims. Arthur decides to keep the dog, and Wilson calls him Aquadog. Arthur also decides to teach the dog how to swim.

From DC Wikia

Did you find Pandora in the diner scene?

Anyway, this is the NEW 52 version of Aquaman (that pretty much remained through rebirth), that means it is pretty much our modern version of the character. Most of his story is taken from previous versions of the character, but some other elements are new. Also because this was written by Geoff Johns, the new Aquaman movie is pretty much based on this version of the character.

In terms of story, there is not much happening here. I would say that there is a lot more story in what Geoff Johns is not telling us on purpose. There is enough there to be intrigued, and the main focus is on how the world sees Aquaman, even more than how he sees himself.

Now, this is important, because previous writers were a bit lost with the character. I think Peter David’s version is very unique (that version would it fish raw instead of fried with chips, but that version didn’t grow up on the surface). I think this Aquaman is more human than anything else. He is also a king with no land, which is not really explained in this arc, but it’s important.

The Trench is a dumb menace that could have been handled differently. I cannot remember now, but I am pretty sure their “coming out” was caused by someone. So this is a four-issue prologue.

The art really sells the book. This is a gorgeous Aquaman and Mera doesn’t need to be sexualized to look cool (and powerful).

I give this arc a score of 9.

#dc #comics #review #aquaman #mera #aquadog #the trench #trench #new52 #new 52 #2011 #2012 #ivan reis #post modern age

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Give No Quarter (XV)

Thrain’s Fury, now a nameless trader ship, trailed after the trawling barge towards a small isle city shrouded in fog. Captain Oakenshield and his crew had stripped themselves of arms and ornaments and looked little better than a crew of hard-done merchants. The Fury gaped with the holes left from battle and the fallen mast slumped over the husk of a ship. To any, the vessel would seem little more than sailors beset by the cruelty of privateers. None would guess that it was quite the opposite.

Above rose a gate carved in salt-stained pine bearing the moniker of “Laketown”. Narrow passes flowed from the open sea to the winding shales of the island city, an offshoot of the nearest continent. The bargeman, who had introduced himself as Bard, pushed his ship through the crooked arch with a long paddle, stirring the dark waters that ran under the leaning houses looming around them.

He was greeted by a greasy looking man with a single dark brow, one who spoke with suspicion but offered no obstacle to the bargeman’s course. He swallowed the explanation of the stranded merchants on their shambled trader with a scoff but did not argue further, instead scurrying away with a conspiring skip. 

Thorin looked to his second mate and Dwalin growled at the faces which peaked through windows to observe the curious strangers accompanied by the stern mariner.

The barren pirate ship towered over the barge and the walkways of the damp city, barely able to manoeuvre the narrow canals. Bard led them down the main waterway, carefully directing them towards the docks where they could moor their scarred vessel. 

As the crew tied off The Fury, the Captain shouted orders, assigning Nori and his brothers to take watch for the first day. There was too much risk to be had of an overly curious townsperson inspecting their cargo; especially, that weasel with the furry unibrow.

The ramp was lowered as the Captain entered his cabin and scooped up the lifeless woman from across his desk. He kept the threadbare blanket wrapped around her figure as the medic awoke from the slumber he had sunk into during his vigil over her. Oakenshield was the first to stamp down onto the docks, eager to get Y/N sheltered. He was so near to her salvation, he felt it slipping away by the second.

The bargeman tarried on his deck as the pirates gathered on the dock and Thorin worried that they had walked into some trap. He held Y/N closer, her cheek against his shoulder and a hand settled on his other. Balin squeezed his Captain’s shoulder and nodded towards the barge as Bard appeared at the mouth of the ramp. Huddled behind him were three small figures; children who hid around him like frightened mice.

“He has children,” Dwalin’s mouth fell open at the observation, “He took greater danger than we know in aiding us.”

“That he did,” Thorin sighed, the guilt crawling up his spine. It was peculiar sensation which had only recently returned to him. Amidst the discord of the past weeks, the empathy he had retired so long ago had reappeared, eating away at the soul he had thought lost to the cruel seas, “Try not to scare them further…Bofur, none of your silly tales and Dwalin,” The captain looked to his companion, “Try to smile.”

A growl answered Thorin’s second order but the pirates bowed their heads as they watched the children descend after their father. Bard approached Oakenshield, his children shying away but eyeing the crew with the curiosity of their youth. “These are my children and I will not have your men treating them roughly, do you understand me? If I were to tell any of your true character, you’d be strung up by the morrow. All of you.”

“We would never,” Thorin vowed, lowering his eyes sorrowfully. To think that any would think him capable of harming the innocent. He was a pirate but he was still a man, “We only want to see her well,” He lifted Y/N slightly, “We’ve seen far too much savagery to stomach any more.”

“Just know, I stick to my word,” The bargeman warned, “I am welcoming you into my home at great risk to not only myself but to them,” He let the youngest of the children tug on his hand as he spoke, “I will not hesitate to protect them.”

“We understand,” Thorin looked around at his men, none of them maligned towards the children. Rather, every member of the crew resisted the urge to smile at the young ones.

There were those rare times, when not upon the sea, when these men were not pirates but fathers, uncles, and sons. They had their own families which they had left behind but whom they still remembered. Still visited them when not evading the navy or scavenging the waters. Life had led them astray in their ventures but not in their hearts. They were all pained at the reminder of the loved ones so far away.

“We have no weapons upon us and no reason for ill-will,” Balin offered, palms open peaceably, “We are at your mercy, you are not at ours.”

“Very well,” The bargeman accepted, herding his children ahead of him up the dock, “Follow me. And keep your heads down.”

The endless void into which you had fallen receded to a thick fog. Before you, the light came clearer and your thoughts returned in a panoply of confusion. The heaviness in your limbs slowly lessened but your head felt as if it were being crushed. Your eyes stung as consciousness pricked at your being and your heart raced as your memories awakened.

The last you recalled you were bound to the mast of The Mirkwood Rose, the deep voice of Major Elvenking a constant shadow over you. You had been certain of your death and you wondered if this was not limbo. Had you finally arrived at the doors of purgatory to await your final fate?

You breathed in, shuddering as the air burned your lungs and you coughed violently, your body barely a wisp smothered beneath a suffocating weight. You forced open your eyes, your vision cloudy, and you pinched the woolen blankets between your fingers, unable to pull your arm from under the covers. You coughed again and it felt as if glass had caught in your throat.

A dark form moved in the corner of your eyes and the figure stood, nearing to tower over you. Your breath picked up, causing you to hack uncontrollably in fear, and a violent shiver overtook your body. Your lungs rattled and your bones ached. You turned your head from side to side, trying to clear your vision until the face came clear before you.

Major Elvenking stared down at you with his menacing eyes and you were suddenly paralyzed with fear. You could not still be alive. This must be that wicked underworld that sinners were sentenced to. He reached out to lay an icy hand upon your shoulder and you tried to scream, only to erupt in another fit of croup.

“Let me be, please,” You begged between coughs, freeing yourself of your paralysis to thrash violently below the blankets, tossing them back with the last of your strength, “Let me be, you beast!” You shouted and it tore at your scorched throat, “Demon! Away with you! Away!”

You batted Elvenking’s hand away weakly before once more overcome in a frenzy of coughs. Your arm fell back weakly as all your energy seeped away and you lay prone, breath heavily, painfully across the bed of thorn below you. Your eyes closed and tears rose, burning your cheeks as they fell.

If this was not death, you prayed the rising darkness was.

#give no quarter #part 15 #Thorin Oakenshield #the hobbit #pirates #pirate au #au #the company #bard

[ascensionstories-blog]

Zap #2: School Days

Wow, she’s beautiful, Collin thought as eyes caught on Sammy Dunne. She had long, brown hair and bright blue eyes, and his heart started thumping loudly against his chest as she sat next to him in Physics. Say hi, you dolt, you can do it — just one word, “Hi!” He said, a bit too loudly, and she turned a raised eyebrow to him. She was wearing the school uniform, an orange sweater over a blue button-down and a skirt, and he the same, with the addition of pants in place of a skirt. He wondered if she could hear his heart beating too. “I’m Collin,” Collin offered. He had had a few classes with Sammy before this semester, but he could never be sure if she remembered him. Easily forgettable, Collin thought to himself, at least it’s endearing.

“Sammy,” she replied, turning back to her desk. Her hair had fallen along the side of her face and she moved her hand to brush it back. And there it is, Collin decided, the last time I’ll ever talk to Sammy Dunne. He knew it as an absolute certainty: when girls told you their names then looked away, that was it. He began tapping his pen on his desk. His eyes wandered over to Sammy, who was staring disinterestedly at the board. His pen tapped louder. She didn’t look. He sighed and looked at the board in front of him; the teacher — a dull man, balding with glasses — spoke in a monotone voice as he motioned with chalk to the board. Collin’s eyes began to wander back to Sammy once again. Her cheek was in her cupped hand, and her eyes had slowly drifted shut. Immaculate, Collin thought.

Whether by association or chance, his mind began to wander towards Starlight, the hero who had impeded him less than a week before. The heroine had worn glasses to cover her large blue eyes, and styled herself with a different haircut, but he realized then that it was, definitively, the same girl. A small spark began to awkwardly dance around his hand, which he had to force under the desk to not be noticed. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he thought quickly as the electricity continued to surge, what do I do? Oh my god, of course, my luck, the prettiest girl in the goddamn world is on the other freaking side of the heroic spectrum. Maybe, MAYBE, he reasoned with himself, she’ll see the truth behind it all one day, and then she’ll join me and we can work in tandem. And then we’ll fall in love and get married. Oh, that would be delightful. Of course, that would require her talking to me, which, of course, she’ll never do.

Just then, Sammy’s phone began to shriek out into the classroom. The entire class turned to look at her, except for Collin who already had been looking at her. She jumped awake, and reached for her phone, checking the message. Her hand shot into the air. “I’m sorry, Mister McKay, I need to be excused,” as Mr. McKay looked at her inquisitively, she explained, “superhero business.” She did not wait for a response, but grabbed her bag and ran out the door, Collin’s eyes following her out. I wish villains got to do that, Collin lamented to himself. I wonder what’s going on that would immediately necessitate her, he then thought. She’s fairly new, and it’s not like the hero gang around Northridge is unpopulated. I mean, sure, we’r no New Monmouth City, but to resort to pulling a newbie out of class? The bell rang after a short time, as it always does, and he grabbed his pack and began to head home.

His walk home was not particularly long. It was a short walk down Booker Street, past the Bakery that always smelled like fresh icing, across the Pons Footbridge, and then just down Laker Avenue. The trip usually took around twenty minutes, so as he walked he would sketch some designs for costumes or robot ideas. Super-villainy, he knew, was not something that could be achieved simply by having super powers. His brother always told him that an unprepared villain is the worst thing that can happen to the world. So Collin was always preparing, whether it was his speeches or designs or practicing with his powers. As he crossed the footbridge he remembered how proud Matt had looked at him after he accidentally blew up the toaster with his powers. “Now you know not to do that again,��� he had said, and Collin had blushed and cried. But he had never blown up the toaster after that day.

It was immediately as he turned onto Laker Avenue that he recognized something was wrong. His hands reached into his bag to grab his mask — at the very least — but, upon understanding the situation more wholly, he dropped his bag. New potholes had formed in the street from where Starlight’s energy blasts had missed their target, and other scuffs and breaks along the pavement looked to have been made from various collisions and smacks against the pavement. He looked further down the road and he saw that there were people actively engaged in a fight. Running down to get a closer look he saw Matt, wearing his trademark navy overcoat and mask, fighting with the superheroes of Northridge. There was the Black-Hammer, the super-strong, super-dumb superhero, who donned an all-black spandex costume covering himself from head to toe, with small eye and mouth holes cut out. His arms and legs were plated with steel to give him an extra oomph (as he liked to say, anyway). Next to him was Insecticide, an older female hero who dressed in a green sweatsuit with small bug-like wings attached to her back that let her fly. She could also control flies — or something — as far as Collin knew. Fighting alongside both of them was the young, beautiful Starlight, and, seeing her in action was both dazzling and hilarious. Although her powers seemed strong and she was undoubtedly the prettiest person he’d ever seen, it was quite obviously her first week. Her attacks missed widely, causing incredible property damage, and she struggled to coordinate with Black-Hammer and Insecticide, who had been working on their teamwork for years now. Then again, so had Matt.

Matt was not like the other villains of Northridge, and, as far as Collin was concerned, he was the only super villain in the area. Black-Hammer charged at him, throwing his fist at Matt’s face; Matt refused to dodge it, letting the super-powered man’s punch connect. As it made contact, the force behind the punch fell away, leaving the two men standing there, staring eye to eye. Matt raised his hand and flicked the hammer’s chin; the hammer soared through the air, forming another pothole in the ground of Laker Avenue. Ha, idiot, Collin thought. Matt was better known by his villain alter-ego: Momentum, based on his ability to absorb and reassign the momentum of things that touch him. Black-Hammer moaned in his pothole. He was out of commission.

Insecticide tried next, with Starlight providing backup, but as she charged in, an energy beam from the beautiful young heroine collided with her backside, forcing her collapse at the feet of the super villain. Momentum then turned his eyes to Starlight, who, Collin was sure, began shaking in her boots. Go, Matt, go! He silently cheered for his brother, while holding some contradicting feelings in seeing the future love of his life about to get pummeled. As she began to back away, Collin noticed the sky getting markedly darker. A slight rain began to patter against the ground, juxtaposed with the brightness of the random energy beams that Starlight shot to deter Matt’s pursuit. Of course these blind shots did not work, but, as Momentum moved to grab the girl, a bolt of lightning cut across his path, searing his hand.

Collin looked down at his own hands. Am I doing this? He wondered. No, my subconscious can’t be that in love with this girl, he decided. The winds began to pick up with the rain, turning a sunny day into a storm in under a minute. Thunder boomed in the sky, as more streaks of lighting shot down around the couple fighting. Collin stared in amazement, wondering what divine force could possibly be doing this, when a final burst of lightning collided with the ground, and, in the smoke it left, stood a girl. She was around his age, as far as he could tell from the distance he was at, wearing a white, button-up T-shirt with what looked like some small black insignia across the chest, and a black and white skirt. She wore boots that were once white, but now had faded into a murky color through overuse. The girl in the lightning wore no mask, revealing large brown eyes, and a small-but-cute face, which matched her stature as she stood just above five feet tall. She wore a small bow in her hair that was half-white, half-black.

By the time he was done noticing her, he hadn’t had time to notice that Matt was hovering in the air, seemingly being carried by the winds. He struggled against it, but there was nothing he could absorb. He was trapped. The small girl laughed a tiny laugh as she brought her hand down with the thunderclap, and a bolt of lightning collided against his brother. All Collin remembered next was the screaming. His brother’s skin looked chard as it began to sizzle and smoke. Collin covered his face in horror as he saw his brother struggle to look down at the girl, as he was still being carried by the winds. “Who are you?” He managed in a soft, broken whisper.

The girl responded in a confident voice that was a little higher than Collin would have thought. She looked Momentum in the eyes and said, “I am the Menace.” She hoisted him up, higher into the winds. “And you are going the Chamber.” With that the two of them were gone, leaving two collapsed heroes and a star-struck Starlight on his street. The young heroine turned to him.

“Did you see that?” Starlight — Sammy — asked.

“Y-yeah,” Collin said, feeling an incredible mix of emotions while trying not to break in front of a super hero. “Yeah I did.”

“I can’t believe we got to see her in action,” Starlight said. “Wait, I know you from class,” she realized. “Cameron, right?”

Collin stormed into his house, quite literally sparking in anger and self-hate. I should have done something, he scolded himself, letting loose large quantities of discharge throughout his house, I should have stopped her! He kicked a cabinet in his kitchen and heard a large crash from inside. Goddamn it! He stopped trying to restrain himself and his powers ran rampant throughout the kitchen, shutting of the fridge and leaving scorch marks throughout the property. I’m a freaking moron, he reminded himself, getting distracted over pretty girls doing hero things; I’m not a hero, I won’t be a hero, and I won’t be with her.

That was when he realized: of all the plans he had, he had never once envisioned a situation where Matt would not be here with him. His electric rampage stopped immediately. He was alone in the house. His eyes surveyed the damage he did, the broken lamps, the scorched furniture, and the destroyed Tupperware. He almost screamed, until his eyes drew upon the toaster in the corner of the kitchen. It had been left untouched. He took his pen and notepad and began to write.

#menace #zap #chapter #chapter 2 #short story #super hero #cute #funny #fiction #writers #school #read #reading

[cupcakesquid]

Spidergirl ( Peter Parker x Reader )

Summary: Spider-Girl and Spider-Man's first official encounter. Pairings: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Reader Warnings: angst, death, death by fire. a/n: I SWEAR I'M TRYING MY BEST NOT TI WRITE ANGST. sorry guys. also I kinda feel like there's not enough Peter Parker (Tom Holland) angst in the world so.. pls bare with meh ________ “and you're stressed about this Spider-Girl, because...?” Ned asked sitting down on the bouncy bed. Peter was pacing around because of the sheer amount of concern (y/n), or shall we say ‘spider-girl’, was causing him. When he found out about the situation, he immediately flipped with probably a thousand questions going through his head like “Was she also bitten? Is she purely good or acting nice? Do I know her? Why is she doing this? How did she get such a nice suit?” and the most important question “Who is she?” These were questions that literally kept him up at night doing all the research he could. He did not just desire to seek the answers; it was his obligation. He was spider man; how could he not know any information on a fellow spider human. The thoughts would haunt his mind till he would fall asleep and the sight of dawn was evident. This was severely affecting his health. His sleeping routine was usually an hour and if he was lucky, three. Everyone around him was noticing his obvious lack of sleep which is what brings us to this situation. Ned asked Peter what the actual hell was wrong. “She's another human with spider fucking powers, Ned!” Peter yelled at the top of his lungs. He quickly shut his mouth realizing what he had just done. Ned shook his head in response and mumbled. “You’re way too lucky Aunt May isn't here.” Peter sunk down on the bed beside Ned pinching the bridge of his nose. He groaned tiredly at the amount of problems he himself was causing for himself. “I’m sorry, I just really have to know who she is.” ________ “aw..” You sighed at the luminous city. You always admired spider man and casually saw him around at night, but the past few days have been different; ever since the day you helped him halt a bank robbery. He figuratively disappeared in thin air. It was as if when he realized there was another hero, he just gave up or passed the responsibilities to you. That reason was the list of your suspicions though, because you saw him as a nice guy. Your most probable intuition was that he probably needed a break which he truly deserved. “still no sign of him… anyways I should get going, before any crimes take place tonight..” You were about to walk off the building when you heard a few steps creep behind you. You turned around and webbed the figure to the floor instinctively. It was a routine at this point although you wouldn't so sure whether it was a good or bad one. You walked over the spot you had webbed and saw the red and blue spider himself. Your face flushed instantly acknowledging the grave mistake you had just committed. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry it's a-” “habit?” He asked easily pulling off the sticky substance. You nodded causing him to let out a small and cute chuckle. “Me too.. I think it's the spidey sense or something…” He trailed off standing up. He patted some dust off his suit before speaking once again. “Anyways I wanted to ta-” Peter’s voice was drowned by the booming police sirens pacing by. It was speeding down the surprisingly empty road going into the direction of a modest neighborhood. You knew this for you actually lived there. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as to what crime would occur in such a small-scaled area. “Guess that’ll have to wait..” He muttered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. He leaped off the building and shot out a web to another rooftop, starting a momentum. You followed closely behind, allowing him to lead the way. Swinging from structure to structure brought a great amount of excitement to you, including that you were doing it with spider man was even more impressive. Well to be honest, who wouldn’t be thrilled at the thought of swinging up above the famed New York City with Spiderman? I guess people who are scared of heights or hate spider man, also people who hate the city, but you know what I mean. The wind was blowing against your navy blue face mask making you feel rather cool in a literal sense. You were already cool in a figurative sense. After a few minutes of swinging, you arrived at a burning apartment. The red flames roared in the chaotic building only displaying how menacing it was. A scream was heard from above making You and Peter look at each other instinctively. “Shall we?” “that's why I'm here, dork.” You replied chuckling a bit. No one could see, but you certain that under that mask he was raising an eyebrow at the nickname. That was wrong though, because he was absolutely flustered. He nodded and you both webbed up to the floor where the cry was heard. The walls were collapsing and causing only more fire. It looked like hell. Everything was in utter mayhem and it was difficult to believe it was once a sturdy building. It was frightening, but you had to push through.   “I’ll check left.” He said pointing in said direction. You both went in your separate ways accordingly. You leaped over a piece of debris being engulfed by the fire to see a door that was shut. Since the door was on fire, you had to kick the door down which was successful. You gazed around the area that was entirely immersed in the inferno. The atmosphere was so corrupted and chaotic. Such a sad event to witness. You pursued to inspect the scene searching for any human-like figures and you did find one. In this case, it was an unfortunate find. You crept closer with excitement to save this life but as you got close you realized the corpse was toasted. It was an a black lifeless pile of ashes somewhat resembling a human. From looking at the anatomy you could tell it was a female. The other things you saw by staring was her cold eyeballs staring across the room protruding out of her once alive body and the dark ashes that used to be her skin scattering around the area. It was a absolutely terrifying and nauseating sight. It was even worse to think about the person’s life. They could've had a family, and people who truly care about her, but now they're going to have to Greece her death in this devastating fire. This was unhealthy to think about, but that wasn't the worst. The worst part was that you could have prevented this, but you were too late. You stepped back stutteringly. You couldn't handle all of this. You didn't think you’d be seeing dead bodies and feel so much guilt. “SPIDER-GIRL?” Peter’s voice rang throughout the building. You turned back seeing the debris had fallen on the path you used to get in. It was pure chaos. You started breathing heavily and panicking. Meanwhile, our friendly neighborhood spider has just brought two children out of the building. He was going to shout your name again before you started to go on a coughing fit. He scurried to the where he heard you and saw the door you kicked down. The only problem was that too much rubble was blocking the way. “no.” He cursed under his breath trying to find another way in. You continued coughing as your vision eventually grew tired and hazy. Peter found a small piece that he quickly crawled through and catched you just before you fell. He glanced around for another exit and you stood up barely. You were slouched and not looking good at all. “window.” You spoke almost inaudible. All attention was directed on the window and he quickly pulled your arm. He was about to carry you when you raised your hand up indicating that you didn't need his help. He sighed and shot a web out the window; you followed quite quickly and soon as you reached a rooftop you leaned on the barrier, sitting down and took deep breaths. “are you okay?” He asked patting your back. “someone died, I’m..” You trailed off. His eyes widened a bit under the mask but he continued to comfort you. “w-we couldn't save them all.” You continued inhaling sharply. “just relax.” “I don't know if that's possible.” You placed your Palm on your forehead still comprehending what had just happened. “it's not your fault.” He continued, but you were too caught up by your thoughts. They were all around you trapping you in a circle of remorse. You couldn't escape it was just too much. Voices  Your crossed your eyes from all  Waves of anxiety coursed through your body. Peter noticed this and quickly hugged you. The blaze died down moments after. The beautiful night continued even with such a gloomy situation.

#peter parker #tom holland #spiderman #reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #spiderman x reader #x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland imagine #spiderman imagine #imagine #spider-girl #spidergirl #angst #i swear im trying my best #death #fire

[biofunmy]

Hurricane death toll climbs to 20 in devastated Bahamas

The ground crunched under Greg Alem’s feet on Wednesday as he walked over the ruins of his home, laid waste by Hurricane Dorian. He touched a splintered beam of wood and pointed to the fallen trees, overcome by memories.

“We planted those trees ourselves. Everything has a memory, you know,” he said. “It’s so, so sad. … In the Bible there is a person called Job, and I feel like Job right now. He’s lost everything, but his faith kept him strong.”

The devastation wrought by Dorian — and the terror it inflicted during its day-and-a-half mauling of the Bahamas — came into focus Wednesday as the passing of the storm revealed a muddy, debris-strewn landscape of smashed and flooded-out homes on Abaco and Grand Bahama islands. The official death toll from the strongest hurricane on record ever to hit the country jumped to 20, and there was little doubt it would climb higher.

With a now-distant Dorian pushing its way up the Southeastern U.S. coast, menacing Georgia and the Carolinas, many people living in the Bahamas were in shock as they slowly came out of shelters and checked on their homes.

In one community, George Bolter stood in the bright sunshine and surveyed the ruins of what was once his home. He picked at the debris, trying to find something, anything, salvageable. A couple of walls were the only thing left.

“I have lost everything,” he said. “I have lost all my baby’s clothes, my son’s clothes. We have nowhere to stay, nowhere to live. Everything is gone.”

The Bahamian government sent hundreds of police officers and marines into the stricken islands, along with doctors, nurses and other health care workers, in an effort to reach drenched and stunned victims and take the full measure of the disaster.

“There are many in Grand Bahama who are suffering,” Prime Minister Hubert Minnis said at a news conference. “We know there are many Bahamians that are in need of help. I want to assure you that more help is on the way.”

He thanked the international community for its response, especially the U.S. government for what he called their “exceptional assistance.”

The U.S. Coast Guard, Britain’s Royal Navy and relief organizations including the United Nations and the Red Cross joined the burgeoning effort to rush food and medicine to survivors and lift the most desperate people to safety by helicopter. The U.S. government also dispatched urban search-and-rescue teams.

Londa Sawyer stepped off a helicopter in Nassau, the capital, with her two children and two dogs after being rescued from Marsh Harbor in the Abaco islands.

“I’m just thankful I’m alive,” she said. “The Lord saved me.”

Sawyer said that her home was completely flooded and that she and her family fled to a friend’s home, where the water came up to the second floor and carried them up to within a few feet of the roof. She said she and her children and the dogs were floating on a mattress for about half an hour until the water began receding.

Sandra Cooke, who lives in Nassau, said her sister-in-law was trapped under her roof for 17 hours in the Abaco islands and wrapped herself in a shower curtain as she waited.

“The dog laid on top of her to keep her warm until the neighbors could come to help,” she said. “All of my family lives in Marsh Harbor, and everybody lost everything. Not one of them have a home to live anymore.”

The storm pounded the Bahamas with Category 5 winds up to 185 mph (295 kph) and torrential rains, swamping neighborhoods in brown floodwaters and destroying or severely damaging, by one estimate, nearly half the homes in Abaco and Grand Bahama, which have 70,000 residents and are known for their marinas, golf courses and all-inclusive resorts.

Bahamian Health Minister Duane Sands said 17 of the dead were from the Abaco islands and three from Grand Bahama. He said he could not release further details because the government still had to contact family members.

Some people in the Abaco islands complained that they had not seen any aid except for medical supplies for the main hospital, where hundreds of people were temporarily living as they awaited help.

By late Wednesday, Dorian has crept back up to Category 3 force with 115 mph (185 kph) winds and was pushing toward a brush with the Carolinas — with a direct hit on the outer banks possible. An estimated 3 million people in Florida, Georgia and North and South Carolina had been warned to clear out, and highways leading inland were turned into one-way evacuation routes.

At 11 p.m. EDT, Dorian was centered about 105 miles (170 kilometers) south of Charleston, South Carolina, moving north at 7 mph (11 kph). Hurricane-force winds extended outward up to 60 miles (100 kilometers) from its center.

Forecasters said there was the danger of life-threatening floods as storm surge moves inland from the coastline, as well as the potential for over a foot of rain in some spots.

“Hurricane Dorian has its sights set on North Carolina,” Gov. Roy Cooper said. “We will be ready.”

As the threat to Florida eased and the danger shifted farther up the coast, Orlando’s airport reopened, along with Walt Disney World and Universal. To the north, ships at the big Norfolk, Virginia, naval base were ordered to head out to sea for safety, and warplanes at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia were sent inland.

The U.S. mainland recorded its first death in connection with the hurricane, that of an 85-year-old man in North Carolina who fell off a ladder while preparing his home for the storm. Dorian was also blamed for one death in Puerto Rico.

On Tybee Island, Georgia, Debbie and Tony Pagan stacked their beds and couches atop other furniture and covered their doors with plastic wrap and sandbags before evacuating. Their home flooded during both Hurricane Matthew in 2016 and Irma in 2017.

“It’s a terrible way to live,” Debbie Pagan said. “We have the whole month of September and October to go. How would you like to be living on pins and needles?”

Another Tybee islander, Sandy Cason, said: “The uncertainty and the unknown are the worst part. Just not knowing what’s going to be here when you get back.”

Along King Street in historic Charleston, South Carolina, dozens of shops and restaurants typically bustling with tourists were boarded up, plywood and corrugated metal over windows and doors, as the flood-prone downtown area braced for high water.

Mark Russell, an Army veteran who has lived in South Carolina much of his life, went to a hurricane shelter right away. As for those who hesitated to do so, he said: “If they go through it one time, maybe they’ll understand.”

———

Coto reported from San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Weissenstein from Nassau, Bahamas. AP writers Tim Aylen in Freeport; Russ Bynum in Georgia; and Seth Borenstein in Washington contributed to this report.

Sahred From Source link Travel

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[bountyofbeads]

Hurricane death toll climbs to 20 in devastated Bahamas

https://apnews.com/9f2f1e4a36d0487c89902cda26a60767

Hurricane death toll climbs to 20 in devastated Bahamas

Published September 4, 2019 7:37 PM ET | AP | Posted September 4, 2019 7:48 PM ET |

FREEPORT, Bahamas (AP) — The ground crunched under Greg Alem’s feet on Wednesday as he walked over the ruins of his home, laid waste by Hurricane Dorian. He touched a splintered beam of wood and pointed to the fallen trees, overcome by memories.

“We planted those trees ourselves. Everything has a memory, you know,” he said. “It’s so, so sad. ... In the Bible there is a person called Job, and I feel like Job right now. He’s lost everything, but his faith kept him strong.”

The devastation wrought by Dorian — and the terror it inflicted during its day-and-a-half mauling of the Bahamas — came into focus Wednesday as the passing of the storm revealed a muddy, debris-strewn landscape of smashed and flooded-out homes on Abaco and Grand Bahama islands. The official death toll from the strongest hurricane on record ever to hit the country jumped to 20, and there was little doubt it would climb higher.

With a now-distant Dorian pushing its way up the Southeastern U.S. coast, menacing Georgia and the Carolinas, many people living in the Bahamas were in shock as they slowly came out of shelters and checked on their homes.

In one community, George Bolter stood in the bright sunshine and surveyed the ruins of what was once his home. He picked at the debris, trying to find something, anything, salvageable. A couple of walls were the only thing left.

“Right now there are just a lot of unknowns,” Parliament member Iram Lewis said. “We need help.”

“I have lost everything,” he said. “I have lost all my baby’s clothes, my son’s clothes. We have nowhere to stay, nowhere to live. Everything is gone.”

The Bahamian government sent hundreds of police officers and marines into the stricken islands, along with doctors, nurses and other health care workers, in an effort to reach drenched and stunned victims and take the full measure of the disaster.

The U.S. Coast Guard, Britain’s Royal Navy and relief organizations including the United Nations and the Red Cross joined the burgeoning effort to rush food and medicine to survivors and lift the most desperate people to safety by helicopter. The U.S. government also dispatched urban search-and-rescue teams.

Londa Sawyer stepped off a helicopter in Nassau, the capital, with her two children and two dogs after being rescued from Marsh Harbor in the Abaco islands.

“I’m just thankful I’m alive,” she said. “The Lord saved me.”

Sawyer said that her home was completely flooded and that she and her family fled to a friend’s home, where the water came up to the second floor and carried them up to within a few feet of the roof. She said she and her children and the dogs were floating on a mattress for about half an hour until the water began receding.

Sandra Cooke, who lives in Nassau, said her sister-in-law was trapped under her roof for 17 hours in the Abaco islands and wrapped herself in a shower curtain as she waited.

“The dog laid on top of her to keep her warm until the neighbors could come to help,” she said. “All of my family lives in Marsh Harbor, and everybody lost everything. Not one of them have a home to live anymore.”

The storm pounded the Bahamas with Category 5 winds up to 185 mph (295 kph) and torrential rains, swamping neighborhoods in brown floodwaters and destroying or severely damaging, by one estimate, nearly half the homes in Abaco and Grand Bahama, which have 70,000 residents and are known for their marinas, golf courses and all-inclusive resorts.

Bahamian Health Minister Duane Sands said 17 of the dead were from the Abaco islands and three from Grand Bahama. He said he could not release further details because the government still had to contact family members.

By Wednesday, Dorian was pushing northward a relatively safe distance off the Florida coastline with reduced but still-dangerous 105 mph (165 kph) winds. An estimated 3 million people in Florida, Georgia and North and South Carolina were warned to clear out, and highways leading inland were turned into one-way evacuation routes.

At 5 p.m. EDT, Dorian was centered about 150 miles (245 kilometers) south of Charleston, South Carolina, moving northwest at 8 mph (15 kph). Hurricane-force winds extended up to 70 miles (110 kilometers) from its center.

Dorian was expected to pass dangerously close to Georgia and scrape the Carolinas on Thursday and Friday with the potential for over a foot of rain in some spots and life-threatening storm surge.

“Hurricane Dorian has its sights set on North Carolina,” Gov. Roy Cooper said. “We will be ready.”

As the threat to Florida eased and the danger shifted farther up the coast, Orlando’s airport reopened, along with Walt Disney World and Universal. To the north, ships at the big Norfolk, Virginia, naval base were ordered to head out to sea for safety, and warplanes at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia were sent inland.

The U.S. mainland recorded its first death in connection with the hurricane, that of an 85-year-old man in North Carolina who fell off a ladder while preparing his home for the storm. Dorian was also blamed for one death in Puerto Rico.

On Tybee Island, Georgia, Debbie and Tony Pagan stacked their beds and couches atop other furniture and covered their doors with plastic wrap and sandbags before evacuating. Their home flooded during both Hurricane Matthew in 2016 and Irma in 2017.

“It’s a terrible way to live,” Debbie Pagan said. “We have the whole month of September and October to go. How would you like to be living on pins and needles?”

Another Tybee islander, Sandy Cason, said: “The uncertainty and the unknown are the worst part. Just not knowing what’s going to be here when you get back.”

Along King Street in historic Charleston, South Carolina, dozens of shops and restaurants typically bustling with tourists were boarded up, plywood and corrugated metal over windows and doors, as the flood-prone downtown area braced for high water.

Mark Russell, an Army veteran who has lived in South Carolina much of his life, went to a hurricane shelter right away. As for those who hesitated to do so, he said: “If they go through it one time, maybe they’ll understand.”

Coto reported from San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Weissenstein from Nassau, Bahamas. AP writers Tim Aylen in Freeport; Russ Bynum in Georgia; and Seth Borenstein in Washington cont

#extreme weather #weather #hurricane dorian #dorian #u. s. politics #u.s. news #bahamas

[runawaymarbles]

Good Omens Fic Rec pt. 5

Full list here

between the shadow and the soul by absopositivelutely | 2k | NR

(alternatively: it takes 6000 years for crowley to realize that aziraphale could love him too.)

Ten Fathoms Deep On the Road to Hell by BuggreAlleThis | 2.5k | G

Aziraphale is given an assignment as a Captain in the Royal Navy and finds life at sea miserable. Crowley, on the other hand, is having plenty of fun as the Captain of a motley pirate crew.

Untitled Goose Fic by rattatatosk | 3k | T

It's a lovely week in the South Downs, and Crowley is at war with a Horrible Goose.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian | 3k | G

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals. The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

The Plantom Menace by theinkwell33 | 3.6k | G

There is an urban legend well known in this area regarding The Plant Man. Footage exists, blurry and ill-lit, of the trespassing fiend, but it never provides a good look at his face. He exists only as a rumor; a giggled whisper in someone’s ear at the pub, an inside joke at uni, and a viral sensation. None of these things mean he is not real. That being said, the only person who can corroborate the truth about the Plant Man is the man himself. And unfortunately, Anthony J. Crowley has no idea that it’s him.

as the poets say by nikkiRA | 4.6k | T

Crowley takes a long drink of his wine and then says, before he can chicken out, “Aziraphale, I have always been sure about you.”

The Ark by rfsmiley | 7k | T

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

Exit Wounds by racketghost | 8k | T

“At least they were together for a time,” Crowley says, staring at the lit end of his cigarette, “maybe that’s enough.”

except you enthrall me, never shall be free by curtaincall | 8k | T

It's a classic story: Angel meets knight. Angel volunteers to get beheaded by knight. Knight turns out to be angel's demon frenemy. Somehow, there is kissing. Based on the Middle English ballad Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

what's to come by PepperPrints, restlesslikeme | 11k | T

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Even without the Antichrist, both Heaven and Hell insist on Armageddon. Aziraphale is missing and Crowley sets out to find him, driving through a scorched Earth with a witch in his passenger seat.

damn.nation, now available on itunes by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | 10k | T

When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell. This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 | 44k | T

Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world...

Slow Show by mia_ugly | 90k | NC-17

In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm | 100k | T

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

#good omens #good omens fic #fic rec #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #op #i haven't updated this list in ages as it turns out so here ya go