#Search&Rescue

[comfortingcatharsis]

Alternating POVs wherein the missing- lost, captured, trapped- character is absolutely, desolately positive no one's coming to find or rescue them and hopelessly resigned to the fact; meanwhile the other characters are frantically searching for them with increasing desperation and unwavering determination, gone nearly mad with worry and hellbent on finding them.

[beccawise7]

Flash flooding in Central Texas has devastated entire communities.

Over 20 girls from Camp Mystic are still missing. Tragically, 52 lives have already been lost, with countless others unaccounted for.

With family members on the search and rescue teams, I know firsthand how much they are carrying. Please, if you're willing—pray for strength, protection, and comfort for the responders and all the families affected. They need it more than ever.

~beccawise7💜🖤

[windienine]

hitting my faves with the Fursona Beam

[unbfacts]

An Australian man’s car broke down in the Outback, about 150 km from the nearest town. He walked over 100 km through harsh conditions, knowing help would not come, until a search team found him—remarking that he was in “remarkably fine spirits” despite his ordeal.

[pricetagged]

raft of the leucothea

A little Kyle piece for the Gaz lovers 💖 to tide you over while I work on the Nikolai and the Price stuff.

Shipwrecked. Washed ashore, injured and sick, and thankfully not alone. A man called Kyle Garrick has washed ashore with you.

No big warnings, just some ever-so-slight dubcon naked cuddling (for survival!).

----------

The harsh, salty spray stung your cracked cheeks. Like clay left to bake in the sun, you felt the cracking and peeling of stinging flesh. But you felt it, that was the important thing.

Sunshine seared through your eyelids, a high noon wake-up call. Glowing ember-red, turning the sands to hot coal beneath you. You only had a second to process it before you rolled over, cramping muscles seizing in a paroxysm of a crawl as you hacked and coughed briny, burning seawater.

Alive then.

You were scared to open your eyes. You could pretend that they were crusted shut, sand and grit and god only knows what flaking over. Irritating, painful. A conjunctivitis of caustic circumstance. If you opened your eyes, it was real.

No, it was better as you were. A temporary balm to a blistering scald. Eyes-wide-shut, blind to the horrible damp marl and putrid air burning through your smarting nostrils. Sea life and smoke; pungent enough to turn your stomach once more.

You moaned as you collapsed on the shore, skin-fever hot and itching. Grit and shell-shards dug in, piercing your sensitive flesh. Clinging, burrowing. Discomfiting. Like the discordant memories swimming to the surface, all driftwood and screams and kicking, aching feet.  

There was no more screaming.

The waves lapped at the shore, a gentle balmy breeze carrying the soft sloshing of surf. Hazy popping and crackling accompanied it, a paradisiac white noise that scrambled your sluggish thoughts. Your eyes fluttered open. Temporarily blind from solar glare, you blinked moisture back. Tried to, at least. You were parched, eyes-dry and throat drier.

Perhaps you expected to see devastation. Destruction. Flotsam and jetsam and bodies strewn along the beach. There was a fire, yes, but it was not from the casket of the ship. Debris visible, but neat. Collected and organized into tidy little piles by a great smoking fire. Through the heat-haze of the flames, you spotted a flash of green: fresh leaves. Gaseous white billowed up; perfect for maximum visibility.

"Ah, you're awake." A shadow fell over you, gentle hands supporting your back until you were somewhat upright. "Here, you'll need this."

You grimaced as your cracked lips crinkled around the fruit, harsh little fibres stabbing in. But the relief–

Light, nutty, refreshing. You guzzled it down, big greedy slurps as your hands raised to cup it closer, throat constricting as you lost your breath–

"Hey, hey, slow down," the stranger spoke, easily plucking the coconut from your shaky fingers. "You'll make yourself sick. Again."

"Thanks." You could at least croak out your gratitude, squinting to get a better look at him. "The others–?"

He was gorgeous, dark eyes and eyebrows slanted into the perfect expression of concern. He looked surprisingly normal, given the circumstances. Only a slight split on his full lips, a smear of sand crusted into his curls, marred his handsome face. You watched as his mouth twisted, as he rolled his neck glanced away. A grimace, more telling than words.

"Just you, me, the sand and the coconuts. Paradise cruise, eh?" He finally spoke, nose scrunching as the joke came out a little flat.

It wasn't a shock, but it was jarring all the same. Though you swallowed, your voice came out thick. "At least you're here. Wouldn't have gotten this open by myself."

It was feeble, words half swallowed as survivor's guilt and gallows humour met and warred. A dysfunctional marriage of relief and self-reproach curdled the coconut water in your stomach. A third player entered; unease. Anxiety, sending your heart rate spiralling high as your breaths grew shallow. Something stung your eyes, and you couldn't entirely blame the smoking fire–

"Hey, hey, look at me," You couldn't look away, not from his steady, unwavering gaze. Beautiful. Like sunlight filtered through whiskey, warm and soothing. "Breathe as I breathe– in, out, in– hold it– okay, out. That's right, that's perfect–"

He talked you through it, brought your trembling, clumsy fingers to his chest as he breathed in counts of eight. Kept his palm over your hand, cupped it against the rise and fall of his ribs. You could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath, feel the way his heart beat a steady rhythm just below your fingertips, and slowly, you relaxed into it.

Your cheeks were wet. You realised that around the same time you realised his other hand was rubbing ataractic circles on your back. A shameful emollient, setting you at ease but lowering your gaze. Here, in the arms of this stranger, who were you? Troublesome castaway, retching on the beach as he built a signal fire. Slurping down the fruit that he offered, then crying in his arms–

"Stop that," His hand paused between your should blades, chin tucked as he leaned down to catch your gaze. "You're doing so well, love. Bit of a fucked up situation we're in here."

"How are you so calm? How are you so organised? I feel like I'm going to drift away like–like–"

The hand at your back pushed you forward, pressing until you were draped across his lap. He rocked you, stubble against your temples as he shushed and soothed. Analgesic whispers that slackened your tight limbs, sent eyelids fluttering until you slipped into slumber. Mind numb, docked in restful harbours.

-----------------

When you woke up, you were hot. Shivering, teeth-chattering, but hot. You could no longer smell the fire, but you could feel it against your bare skin. Toasty, crackling embers smouldering and making you sweat.

The fever slowed your mind, too. Thoughts turned to sluggish, sticky mulch as you nuzzled into the strong bicep supporting your neck. His skin was smooth, slightly tacky where it met yours, and you whined a little as you tried to pull away.

But moving sent your head spinning, aching muscles seizing until all you could do was cry.

"You're alright, just sleep. Don't move–"

"My clothes," you slurred the words, heavy and sticky on your tongue. Crystallising like spoiled honey, you tried to spit them out faster, but they just dripped. Molasses-slow, and murky. Confused. "I'm not– my clothes are– what–?"

"I took them off you–shh, shh– They were tattered anyway, we'll need to dig through the piles and see what we can repair." You felt his arm flex below you, rolling your head until it was resting on the pillow of his chest. You tried to open your eyes, but the image was hazy. Like looking through seaglass. "It's cold here at night, freezing. The fire's good, but body heat's best."

"'m too hot– feel too–"

"Yeah, noticed you weren't just cold when you wouldn't stop shivering," his forearm banded around your squirming body, pinning you to his. "I know, baby, I know. It's not nice. Gonna try to sweat it out of you. Don't exactly have the luxury of good food and medicine."

His voice was pitched low, sweet. It made you want to cry, mind adrift and body at his mercy. Holiday turned tragedy, swallowed up by the sea and spat up on the beach like refuse. Control slipped through your fingers, finer and more fickle than the sands below and all you could do was cry.

You felt his fingers, whisper-soft, stroking through the ends of your salty, parched hair. Your tears dripped down, soaking into your flushed cheeks and the sparse, scratchy hairs on his chest. He paused for a beat, fingers swiping over your damp forehead. Whisps pushed away until you felt a butterfly kiss against your clammy forehead. Quick and gentle and fleeting.

Small waves kissed the beach, too. Susurrus, splashing caresses that almost sent you drifting off again. The rumble of his voice tickled your cheek, made you blink slowly until you could make out his face through bleary eyes.  

"It's just you and me and this island," He spoke it softly, sting mollified by surety. Bittersweet ointment for a distressing prognosis. "I've got you; I'll take care of you. I promise."

Your answer was faint. "What if no-one comes for us?"

His arms curled tighter around you, twisted until you were splayed atop him. In another time, another place, you'd be flustered by the open splay of your legs, bare against his lean waist. Here, shame withered away, fizzled out. Ephemeral as seafoam.

"I told you, I'll take care of you. Rescue or not, it's you and me now."

Later, you'd blame delirium, fever dream-fugue, for how the words echoed in your mind. 'Just you and me.'

You and him, and the island.

-----------

[grrlscientist]

Dear rat, did you ever know that you're my hero?

Since the early 2000s, Apopo’s African giant pouched rats have been using their acute sense of smell to sniff out landmines & detect TB in sputum samples. Now, they are search-and-rescue specialists too

[fandom-hopping]

I speed ran a messy redesign of khan based on my last post. Well, redesign/what he could have been like in his younger years when he was still on duty.

Larger arms and hands with clawed tips to make climbing, hiking, and hauling easier. In this head canon, he's pretty damn strong. Having to often haul gear and people should the need arrive. Him and his crew of fellow search and rescue drones were the main ones getting drones to safety during the breakdown of humanity. Of course, finding Nori and bringing her along. Before he was Doorman, those who were evacuated called him polar bear Khan. Eventually, him and Nori become a dynamite duo.

I like to think that the reason Nori was in a position to even get attacked by the dissasemblies was because her and khan were out rescuing stragglers. Drones that stayed on the surface before the dissasemblies arrived.

(Search and rescue couple)

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

For all those people who say that people wouldn't work if they weren't paid, that money is the only incentive to "make" people contribute to a society, have you considered the search and rescue and lifeboat volunteers?

These are people who at times literally risk their lives to help others for no real personal reward, often alongside full time jobs.

Dartmoor search and rescue (for example) rely solely on public donations to do their work, none of the volunteers are paid, and yet, if someone gets lost on the moors or injures themselves, the teams will go out regardless of conditions and search (sometimes for hours or even days) to try and help.

The point is there are so many people out there who already do amazing things to help their communities for no/minimal reward, and if anything socialism/communism/anarchism would make their lives easier, not harder.

[berrydoodleoo]

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom Remember us - if at all - not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.

(For Thine is the Kingdom)

The Hollow Men; T.S. Eliot

[nowhereman1966]

"Don't touch them. Don't look at them. Don't go up them."

(Credit for sprite and background goes to Deerspherestudios. Inspired strongly by the classic and absolutely fantastic Creepypasta, 'I'm a Search and Rescue Officer for the US Forest Service, I have some stories to tell'.)

[spacedace]

Dick dropped down from the skylight into the kitchen soundlessly, one hand already gripping one of his escrima rods in preparation for a fight as he worked on getting his barrings.

Babs had said that none of the apartment’s security measures had been tripped and that her system hadn’t detected anyone entering the apartment building that shouldn’t be there, but it was better safe than sorry. The kind of mercenaries that had been hired and the kind of tracking they had already done on Elle meant that they very well could have found a way around the security measures. Hell, if Jason was right about this Marcus Hunter guy - and he most definitely was - then even the additional security Damian had added over the years might not have been enough.

Behind him there was the soft click of a switch and suddenly the kitchen was flooded with light.

Shit, that was bad. He hadn’t heard anyone behind him, hadn’t even registered another person in the immediate area despite the readings in his mask and his finely honed senses. Either he was getting rusty or whoever had flipped on the lights in an attempt to blind him was, if not as good, than at least in the same league as Cass when it came to stealth.

The fact that they were confident enough about not having to worry about Elle that they would try to blind him by turning on the lights rather than for a quieter take-down in the dark also was a bad sign. Either the intruder was confident enough about their plan that Elle calling the cops or trying to run away wouldn’t interfere, or they knew for a fact that she couldn’t. That they had ensured that she was not able to do anything as a dangerous stranger wandered her house and tried to jump the vigilante that had just entered her home.

Thankfully his domino was in top form and ready for things like this, specially designed by Lucius with software finely honed by Babs. As quickly as the switch was flipped, his mask adjusted to account for the sudden change in light levels, keeping him fully aware of the world around him. A chance at surprising the person trying to get the drop on him in return, if he was fast enough to pull it off.

And if it meant saving the young woman his little brother was in love with, that had become another member of the family over the past couple of years?

Dick would be more than fast enough.

He dropped low and spun, flicking the taser function of his escrima on as he did. He still hadn’t heard anyone move, but he knew odds were good that the person behind him would likely be aiming for center mass while he was standing if they had a fire arm and lunging at him before he could realize what happened if they weren’t.

Body flowing like water, Dick turned and moved to slam the sparking business end of his weapon into his opponent coming face to face with -

A bleary and half asleep Elle.

Dick stumbled as he rapidly fought his own momentum, nearly crashing to the floor in his attempt to not hurt the very woman he had shown up to save. He still ended up knocking a familiar battered bag from off the table in his - totally not wild and undignified at all thank you - pinwheeling.

At least he managed to not bump the pretty, hand-painted vase sitting next to Elle’s normal traveling pack. It had been a gift from Ma Kent when Damian, Jon and Elle had all three moved in together and Dick did not want to face the wrath of three if anything happened to it.

Or the wrath of Ma Kent, for that matter.

Elle, for her part, just watched him from where she was swaying blearily in the kitchen doorway, eyes squinting into the bright light that she had flipped on. She seemed unbothered by the vigilante that had appeared in her home and nearly tazedd the shit out of her the second she’d made her presence known.

“Mmp?” She…said? Mumbled, really, sleep blurred and muzzy. “Nigh’wing?” She slurred, lifting a hand to rub tiredly at an aching eye. “Why’re you in my kitchen?”

“Uh…” Dick stared at her, still mentally scrambling to get his feet under him as he tried to wrangle the sudden flip between fighting a dangerous foe to talking with his brother’s exhausted, jet-lagged and very much out of the loop civilian girlfriend in his vigilante persona.

Elle gave a yawn so massive and wide Dick was fairly certain he would need to take her to the ER to get her jaw re-attached afterwards. Instead of screaming in pain at suddenly dislocating a bone, she just leaned against the door jam tiredly as she looked him up and down. “Are you bleedin’ out?”

Dick blinked.

“Um, no.”

“Any broken bones, internal injuries or concussions?”

“No.”

“Villain chasing you about to bust in and destroy half the apartment building?”

“God I hope not.”

“Mmm-kay.”

Elle gave a slow nod, shifting so she was standing fully again - if slightly at a sleepy, drooping angle - as she lazily waved a hand in the general direction of one cabinet.

“Everything but what’s in there and on the bottom shelf of the fridge is free game - that stuff is gonna be gifts for Damian and Jon’s families, so don’t eat ‘em.” Her hand shifted, vaguely motioning down the hall in the direction opposite of where her and the boys’ bedroom was. “Guest room is second on the left, bathroom across from that. If you need anything else…”

She trailed off, head lolling and unruly mess of black curls falling in an even wilder frenzy around her, “Honestly, like, call someone else about it. I just spent the last 84 hours digging people out of a mudslide on the other side of the globe explicitly against my doctor’s orders. I’m going to go have a coma for awhile about it to recover. As a treat.”

As had often been the case over the years, Elle had zagged when he had expected her to zig. It was a hallmark of her as a person, he’d learned from Dami’s stories and his own experience with her. Instead of being freaked by one of Gotham’s vigilantes breaking into her home and nearly taking her head off, she just… rolled with it. Made sure he wasn’t dying and decided at that point that whatever he was doing there was just not her problem to deal with.

Nightwing wasn’t even one of the heroes she’d worked with before as part of her search and rescue work. Elle had never officially met him as his vigilante persona, she’d barely met Damian and Jon as Phoenix and Flamebird. And yet she just didn’t give a single fuck about anything happening currently. Too exhausted to care beyond ensuring no one was about to die, most likely, after just getting back from an SAR mission.

Which made sense. The physical and emotional toll of rescue work was worse than any fight Dick had ever been in, and wore on those who made it their life’s work to that particular kind of emergency service hard. Especially one like Elle who had a widely known reputation for her dogged determination to keep going well past the point other rescuers would hit their limit and have to stop for the sake of their health.

Actually wait, speaking of health, did she just say -

“Doctor’s orders?” He asked, shoving his escrima back in place on his back as he straightened out and stepped forward, hands worriedly reaching for her. “Are you okay?”

He knew that Elle had ended up in the hospital for a bit about six or seven months ago when she’d been visiting family. He wasn’t totally sure of all the details, but he knew there’d been some kind of freak accident that had resulted in Elle needing emergency surgery. Whatever had happened - which, considering she’d been in Amity Park could have been literally anything - she’d ended up with a pretty intense looking scar on her chest above her heart and some intensely worried boyfriends once Damian and Jon had found out what had happened.

Thankfully, with Amity Park’s deep connection with the Infinite Realms and as the seat of King Phantom’s rule, Elle had been in the care of the best healers in the multiverse. She’d been irritable about the whole recovery process he remembered, grumpy at having to be stuck in one place for so long. But considering she’d had to have surgery to remove something pretty sizable from her heart Dick felt four weeks in the hospital and a further six of bed rest and home care was a pretty short recovery time.

Though… maybe she wasn’t as recovered as she’d made everyone think.

Sure, the Yetis could be a bit much in how they fussed over living humans in their care, but there was every chance that Elle really wasn’t as back in action as she’d led people to believe. She was a little too like Dami and Jon that way - like just about everyone Dick knew that way. It wouldn’t matter if she was wheezing through a flail chest or missing a damn limb, if it involved something or someone important to her, she wasn’t going to be stopped. And with Elle, the only thing as important to her as Dami and Jon, was traveling the world to feed her eternal wanderlust and saving people through her search and rescue work. Neither of which was possible if the people that cared about her knew she was still dealing with the effects of her brush with death earlier in the year.

Then again, there was every chance that something else had happened. Between her travels and her SAR work, Elle got into a lot of dicey situations. Not even getting into the fact that she’d put down roots in Gotham and Metropolis - two places known for their high danger rate thanks to regular villain attacks and other crazy bullshit. Had something happened that he hadn’t heard about?

Elle gave another terrifyingly wide yawn.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” She waved his concern off blandly, “It’s all gravy my dude. Just had a bit of a thing not too long ago and my doc is a bit on the over-cautious side. If it was up to him I’d be on bed rest ‘til I’m ninety.”

Dick frowned, not totally convinced. Elle either was ignoring him or was just too tired to notice he was still worried. Instead of acknowledging it she just began swaying back in the direction of her bedroom. “Right, now that’s settled, I’m gonna go crash. Mind the cat when you go to leave, he’s gotten obsessed with the pigeons recently and keeps trying to escape to go after them.”

“Wait, no, I need to talk to you.” He said, moving to follow her as she turned away from him and began shuffling down the hall.

She made a vague, incomprehensible noise, not bothering to turn back to face him. “Mmm, later.”

“No, this really can’t wait.” He insisted, reaching out and catching her arm before she shuffled any further away. “You’re in danger.”

He expected that to be the moment that Elle locked in and started seriously listening to him. That she’d shake off the heavy drowsiness she was caught in and snap to attention and focus on what he was saying and why he was there.

As usual though, Elle zigged when he thought she’d zag.

Instead of doing any of the normal things people do when told by a vigilante that their lives were in danger, she just gave a ridiculous, tired whine and shook his hand off. “Yeah, in danger of not getting any more sleep.” She said, petulant and pouting. “I’m fine, let me go back to bed.”

Over his comms he heard Steph huff a soft laugh, “Damn, Little D wasn’t kidding when he said she was a mess after missions. Might have to bring out the big guns and tell her what we found.”

She had a point. Both in that Dami had talked about Elle being practically a mindless zombie after prolonged SAR stints and in needing to up the ante in explaining the situation. He’d hoped to get her to a safe house first so that he knew she was secure before breaking the news that someone wanted her dead, but if she was going to just ignore everything he said in her dogged attempt to crawl back into bed he might just have to lay it out to her now.

“No, I need you to listen to me.” He said firmly, grabbing onto her arm again and tugging her to face him. “A group of elite mercenaries has been hired to kill you. They’ve been tracking your movements for awhile now, they know where you live, they know your schedule, the places you go.” He gave her arm a small squeeze, heart aching a little as he looked down at the worn, exhausted face of the woman that very likely would be his sister-in-law before too much longer. “The others and I can help protect you, but you need to come with me now.”

For a long, quiet moment Elle just stood there and stared at him. Uncanny white-blue eyes taking him in, the seriousness of his expression beneath his domino, the tense line of his shoulders, his firm grip on her arm. Her usually bright and exuberant expression unreadable and still in the dim light of the hallway. Some of the anxiety in his chest unwound a little as the seriousness of the situation seemed to finally settle in to her sleep deprived mind.

And then Elle zagged.

“...Okay… and?”

---

Elle groaned as Duke dropped down from the skylight.

“Seriously? You’re pulling Signal in to this? In the middle of the night?” She gave Dick a look that edged on scathing, scrubbing her face tiredly before turning her attention on Duke. “Dude, what are you doing here? You have the day shift, shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?”

She shook her head before either of them could try and get a word in, waving her hands at them irritably. “Wait, scratch that, I should be sleeping right now and you,” She pointed at Signal with an annoyed frown, “Should know how fucking tired I am. You had to drag my ass all the way to the Opps tent enough times after finishing up an SAR mission to know how hard I crash.”

Duke held up his hands in a motion that felt less like a I come in peace and more of a I surrender to Dick’s mind, though he was still smiling a little. “And hello and good morning to you too Ms. Nightingale. Yes it has been a minute since we last saw each other, and it is nice to get to chat when we’re not running around trying to pull people out of rubble or half dead in the crash tent.”

Elle flipped him off, which just made Duke laugh in turn.

Dick might have felt the need to intervene and try and smooth things over, but he could see that - clearly despite herself - Elle was happy to see him. Some of the tension in her frame had eased up, the lines of irritation on her tired face easing up into a fond kind of annoyance.

Yeah, alright, Duke was right that they should have just let him handle the whole thing from the jump - even with having to wait a few minutes. Dick and Elle got along like a house on fire when he was in his civilian ID, but his interactions with Elle as Nightwing - though positive - were limited. Signal on the other hand, she’d worked with fairly regularly and she and Duke had developed a solid, friendly working relationship over the past couple of years.

“Alright, alright. Yes, it’s nice to see you Lighthouse.” Elle rolled her eyes, amused fondness in the motion, “Seriously though dude, I just got back home like, two hours ago. Can’t this wait?”

The dark visor of Duke’s helmet hid it, but the look he was giving Elle was clear enough anyway. “Sorry, think I might have missed that,” he said, not at all sounding apologetic, “Did you just ask if us trying to save you from the crew of incredibly dangerous mercenaries hired to kill you could wait? Was I hearing that right?”

Elle groaned, “Ugh, look I already told him,” she waved a hand vaguely at Dick, not bothering to glance in his direction, “That while I appreciate the concern, that it’s all good. Seriously,” she said, sounding every inch the as exhausted as she looked, “This shit happens, like, all the time, it’s fine. Can I please go back to sleep now? We can catch up later. I got that awesome coffee Julietta makes the last time I visited and Sal gave me some of his husband’s fresh made donuts when I swung by the bodega on my way home. We can have a nice breakfast chat later.”

Dick tensed, rocking forward as he said “This has happened before?” at the same time Duke asked, “You have some more of that coffee?”

“Signal, focus.” Oracle snapped over comm line, and even without seeing her Dick knew she was pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Pulling in Duke to help him get Elle out of there had been a good call, but they’d forgotten that it came at the cost of the two being entirely unserious about dangers to their persons. Dick didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough to say that there was a reason the two teamed up on SAR missions so often - and it wasn’t just how skilled they both were when it came to rescuing people.

“Right, coffee can wait…” Duke said, offering Dick a bare impression of a sheepish grin. As much as he thought he needed to placate Dick’s unimpressed stare. He was annoyed with himself that even knowing how low effort it was, the grin was still working.

“Mmm.” Elle said, muzzy and unamused by the both of them. “You’re right. It can wait, for the morning, after I’ve gotten some sleep.” She made a shooing motion at them with her hands, “Go on then, get. Let me get my beauty rest.”

“I don’t know if we have time for you to sleep that long.” Duke mused, laughing as Elle flipped him off again. “Seriously Whammy, you can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

“You’re face isn’t safe.”

“You’re face isn’t safe if you don't move your ass.”

Maybe involving Duke was a bad idea after all, Dick thought, giving into the urge to scrub at his face. While he was his civilian identity, Duke and Elle were friendly enough. She got along with him as well as she got along with everyone else in the family. But the two had clearly developed a strong, almost sibling-like relationship out in the field when Duke was on duty as Signal. Useful in imparting the dangers, useless in getting the two to not bicker like overtired siblings while they were in the middle of something.

Dick sighed, “Can we do this later, please?” He met Elle’s eye from behind his mask, “Look, we wouldn’t be here unless we had serious concerns about your safety. I know you’re tired and think it’s not a big deal but it is. Can you please go pack a bag and come with us so we can get you setup somewhere more secure?”

There was a long beat of silence as Elle looked at him. Her exhausted face becoming contemplative as she met his eye and took in his serious expression. He felt hope swell in him that she was finally taking all of this seriously when -

“Nah. Not happening.” She waved him off, unbothered, and turned to start heading down the hall again towards her room. “I’m going back to sleep. Feel free to hang out here if you want to. I already told Sparky here which snacks were off limits, just keep the volume on the TV down if you decide to watch anything.”

Okay. They might just have to kidnap her. Unfortunate, but Dick wasn’t seeing a lot of options left to them.

Duke, thankfully, seemed to have one more trick up his sleeve.

Crossing his arms and leaning a little too casually against the kitchen counter he made a show of looking at his nails - well hidden beneath his gloves - as he called out, “Alright, I guess we’ll tell Supernova you weren’t interested in meeting him after all.”

Elle froze. Truly froze. Foot still hovering in the air mid-step, entire body trapped in comical stillness. Slowly, painfully slowly, her head turned towards where Duke was. Eyes so intensely wide that they hurt Dick to look at a little, her already slightly off-putting white-blue irises almost swallowing the tiny black pinpricks of her pupils.

“Supernova?” She spun, body almost shaking as she scuttled over to where Duke was like a deranged little crab, “He’s in Gotham?”

Duke made a show of shrugging, “Eh, I mean, he was going to be in Gotham. Help make sure the safehouse we were going to have you stay in is secure and all that.” No amount of cover from Duke’s visor could hide the gleam in his eye, the shit eating grin he flashed Elle said it all. “But if you want to stay here, I guess we’ll have to tell him to not bother coming.”

Dick blinked as Elle seemed to start vibrating in place. He wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t take off like a god damn rocket with the way her clear excitement at the idea was rattling around inside her, body likely to combust from the energy of it all.

“I guess I’m calling Kon.” Tim mused from over the comms. “Who knew she was such a big Supernova fan?”

“Holy shit, do you think she has a crush on him?” Steph asked, clear delight at the absolute horror and chaos that would rock Jon if that was the case.

----

^ random incomplete dpxdc snippet thing from a fic I'm working on where the Batfam & Superfam have to try and keep Damian & Jon's supposed-civilian girlfriend Elle safe while the boys are off planet.

Just a lot of fun pre-identity reveal shinanigans, Elle having absolutely zero self-preservation instincts (even by Fenton standards) and the Bats & Supers trying to deal with the chaos inherint in dealing with ghost shit while not revealing anything before Damian & Jon get the chance to. Also some fun painful angst as things start going off the rails and Infinite Realm conspiracies start popping off involving Ancient of the Speedforce Pariah Dark and Elle's ongoing struggle to controll her Obsession. Most importantly, it involves Duke & Elle getting to be chaotic besties because they deserve to be unhinged gremlins that worry those around them with their shinanigans on the regular haha

Sidenote that is entirely unncessary but I put in the research so I'm going to make it everyone else's problem: When Duke calls Elle "Whammy" above, he's actually calling her "W.A.M.I" which stands for Wide Area Motion Imagery, which is a newer type of technology search and rescue teams use.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1360

Whumptober #10: Slurred Words

A: “B, do you copy? Where are you?”

B: “‘m here… sort of… kinda cozy in this corner…”

A: “There you are! Are you alright? What’s your status?”

B: “Status… uh… bit fuzzy, but I’m still kickin’… well, kinda… head’s… spinny.”

A: “B, did you hit your head? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

B: “Um… was tryin’ to… get to, uh… sector …can’t remember. Everything’s sorta… blurry, y’know?”

A: “Okay, okay. Just hang on. Keep talking to me. I’m tracking your signal, but you need to stay awake.”

B: “Aw, c’mon… I’m not… not goin’ anywhere… room’s doin’ enough spinnin’ for both of us…”

A: “Yeah, I bet. Just keep that radio on, alright? No shutting down on me.”

B: “Hey… do I sound funny to you? Can’t… can’t get my mouth to… to say things right…”

A: “You’re doing fine. Tell me what you’re seeing.”

B: “Uh… somethin’ like… a hallway… I think… and some kinda… uh, blue light… real pretty…”

A: “I’m almost there. Just stay focused on that light, alright? Talk to me. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get you out of there?”

B: “Gonna… take the longest… nap… maybe grab… somethin’ to eat… got this craving for… uh… pizza…”

A: “Pizza sounds good. Hang tight, B. We’ll get you that pizza, after we get you to a doctor.”

There’s a distinctive groan over the radio, and A can’t help but chuckle. 

B: “With sides?”

A: “If you don’t fight the doctors this time.” 

B: “...f-fine.”

[mattgrayyes]

Matt Gray is Trying: Search and Rescue

I can’t believe the UK’s 5th emergency service is volunteer-only, and donation-funded!

[planeyboys]

SEARCH & RESCUE CREW

[usafphantom2]

5 April 1976. U.S. Navy SH-3A Sea King (Sikorsky S-61), Bu. No. 149867, near Oahu, Hawaiian Islands.

@ron_eisele via X

[dogfancier]

Field trial champion and trained Red Cross dispatch dog Bill von Rommelburg of Hill Top Farm Kennels, german shepherd, published 1917