#guy finally uses the navigator and. did not follow the directions just kept going north east

[jacobied]

taxis.are so scary man if i didnt just come out of a 9+ hour tattoo and was So Cold id have been Gone

[mysterykidscasefiles]

Mystery Kids and the Case of the Whispering Rock

Summary: Norman, Neil, Coraline, Wybie, Raz and Lili arrive at Grunkle Stan’s Summer Camp with the hope of having a summer of fun, or in the case of the two Psychonauts, with the intent of investigating a psychic disturbance. When they meet two twins that seem to be experts on the secrets of Gravity Falls, they find themselves reluctantly teaming up. But how much can they actually trust each other? There are secrets in this town, but more surprising are the secrets being kept from each other.

Table of Contents

Chapter 23: Lost and Found

“What? B-but that’s not possible!” Wybie exclaimed as he stared flabbergasted at the old cabin in the giant tree. “We walked away from it! In a straight line! How can we be back here?”

Coraline placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know, Wyborn, believe me, I know.” Coraline looked miffed, but not quite as freaked out as her friend. 

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Wybie continued in frustration. “I built this compass myself and we only traveled east! We couldn’t have made it back here!”

Dipper rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This happens sometimes, but don’t freak out. Actually, we’re lucky. In this forest, we could have ended up in worse places than here.”

“What do you mean?” Norman asked. “Has this happened to you before?”

“A few times,” Mabel said with a shrug. “It happens sometimes when we get lost or when we go too deep into the forest. It’s like the forest doesn’t want us to leave.”

Mabel’s tone was as cheerful as always and it seemed out of place for the situation. Raz wasn’t sure if it was comforting that she wasn’t worried, or if the girl just had an underdeveloped sense of danger. 

“You two talk like the forest is alive or something,” Wybie said.

“It is alive, genius,” Lili said while rolling her eyes. “The forest is made out of trees and trees are alive.”

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Coraline said, jumping to her friend’s defense. “He meant the twins talk like the forest has a conscience.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dipper said, “But sometimes it sure seems like it… wants to keep us here.” 

“What do you guys think we should do?” Norman asked the twins. “You two know the forest better than we do.”

“Well… we have to stop relying on our eyes,” Dipper said. “It’s only going to confuse us more.”

“And forget about common sense,” Mabel added. “It's useless here. Right is left and left is right. Backwards can be forwards and going in circles might as well be going straight.”

Dipper nodded. “The best thing to do would be to wait for nightfall so we can use the stars to guide us out. If we try and get out the conventional way then we’ll end up wandering around the forest until we pass out or get lost somewhere worse. We're lucky we keep coming back to this tree. One time Mabel and I wondered so far it became dark in the middle of the day.”

Mabel's smile faltered. "It wasn't a normal kind of darkness. There were no clouds or stars."  

"How did you guys get out?" Neil asked with rapt attention.

Mabel glanced at Dipper, who has a far-off look in his eyes. “We’re not sure…” Dipper admitted. “To this day we still aren’t sure what happened. It was so dark that I couldn’t see Mabel even though she was standing right next to me. Luckily we had flashlights so we could walk without running into the trees. We were walking for about an hour, probably getting even more lost, when we heard a scratching sound coming to our left. When I shined the flashlight on where the noise came from we saw a small arrow scratched into the bark of the tree. It was fresh, so we knew something had just been right next to us when it had made the arrow.”

Did you follow the arrow?” Neil asked. 

“We didn’t have much choice,” Dipper admitted. “Up to this point we were wandering aimlessly and I don’t think we could have gotten more lost. A few minutes later, we heard another scratching sound off to the side, but when we turned our flashlight towards it, we couldn’t see anyone. When we looked closer at the tree, there was another arrow carved in the bark. This continued to happen and we kept following the arrows until the sky started to lighten again and we could see the sun. No matter how hard we tried, we never saw who…. or what helped us.”

“I saw fur!” Mabel exclaimed eagerly. “I’m pretty sure whoever helped us had fur...I think. It was pretty dark.”

Dipper shrugged. “Those are the only things we have to go on. It might have had fur and it was obviously agile enough to avoid our flashlight.”

“You guys have seen a lot of strange things, haven’t you?” Raz asked thoughtfully. 

“It’s this town,” Dipper admitted. “It’s weird… really weird. Mabel and I have seen things we can’t explain. I’ve been trying to learn as much as I can, but I didn’t want to drag you guys into it. As you can see, it can get dangerous.”

Raz entertained the possibility of searching through Dipper’s memories the way he had Coraline’s. There may be something in Dipper’s memories that would lead them to the disturbance they were searching for. However, something gave Raz pause.

He was still feeling guilty about the way he rummaged through Coraline’s memories and caused her to have a nightmare the previous night. He had wanted to find information that might lead him to the psychic disturbance, not to retraumatize her. 

In addition, Raz didn’t really know what he was looking for. He knew Dipper and Mabel had seen weird things in the town, but would they really have information about the psychic disturbance they were looking for? There were also restrictions around looking through civilian memories, especially minors, Unless Raz had reason to believe they had information related to his mission, he wasn’t supposed to go through a civilian’s memories. 

Raz decided that he would first try to ask Mabel and Dipper more questions about the mysterious things they have seen in Gravity Falls, as well as try and look around the town. If Raz discovered that Dipper or Mabel might know something related to the disturbance, and refused to share, then he would search through one of their memories.  

“So, assuming we aren’t going to be saved by a potentially hairy monster that carves arrows into trees, what should we do?” Coraline asked. 

“We are just getting ourselves more lost by wandering around,” Dipper said. “As much as I hate to be in this forest at night, we might have to wait for the stars to guide us out. That’s usually the safest way once we’re already lost.”

"We have to stay out here until it gets dark?” Wybie asked nervously, glancing around. 

“I know it’s not the best plan,” Dipper agreed, sounding just as worried. “But it’s the only thing I can think of that wont get us more lost.”

“Actually, Lili is really good at reading a forest,” Raz spoke up. “The tree’s look different the farther you go in, and Lili can notice little differences like that. We don't have to wait. We can follow her out of here. After all, she was the one that knew we were going in the wrong direction from the very beginning.”

Lili didn’t react to Raz’s vote of confidence, but he could tell she was pleased. Raz knew Lili could use her herbaphony to get them back home easily.

At least, he hoped it would be easy. They had used a compass, gone straight, and still ended up back where they started.

“Hold on, it’s because of Lili we’re out here in the first place,” Coraline pointed out. "How can we trust her not to get us more lost?"

"Listen, Blue." Lili sneared. "I'm the only one that can get us out of here within the next few hours. So unless you want to wait until it gets dark and the Little Dipper can use the Big Dipper to get us home, then you'll shut your trap and follow me."

Coraline raised an eyebrow at Lili at the same time Mabel broke into a fit of giggles.

"Mabel, it wasn't that funny," Dipper said in annoyance. 

"No Dip, it was hilarious!" Mabel choked out, barely able to breathe. “Little Dipper!”

"Well then..." Coraline said, a smile tugging on her lips. "I guess anything is better than nothing. Lead the way."

Lili turned around and walked past the giant tree. She was heading in the opposite direction they had been traveling in. There was hesitation from the group at first, but then everyone began following her. Raz tried to suppress the feeling inside of him that told him they were going the wrong way. He  trusted Lili and she knew what she was doing.

Lili led them west, then north. Raz swore they passed the same trees that they had seen just minutes ago, but he kept quiet. There was one point where Lili led them around in what he thought was a definite circle only for them to end up in a completely new area. 

Lili was frowning the entire time, a confused look on her face. She looked as lost as everyone else, but she seemed to put her faith in something other than her sense of direction.

They were traveling for a half an hour, but even Coraline held back her sarcastic commentary. Raz knew what Coraline was thinking without having to read her mind: Lili had either gotten them closer to home, or twice as lost.

Finally, the trees began to thin and Dipper let out a squeak of excitement. "I know where we are!" he shouted. "We're almost to the town!"

“How did you do that?” Neil asked Lili in awe. 

“Like Raz said, I’m just really good at understanding plants,” Lili explained with a shrug. 

“Man, it’s going to be so easy navigating the forest with you around!” Dipper said with a laugh.

Lili glanced at Dipper from the corner of her eyes, her eyebrows twitching upwards in surprise. 

“Yeah, not bad Plant-girl,” Coraline said, nudging Lili with her shoulder playfully. “Looks like you are useful for something.”

“At least one of us is,” Lili said with a smirk. 

Coraline rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. After a moment, Coraline’s expression faltered. “So umm…” she began awkwardly. “I guess I should have trusted you earlier when you said you knew the right way to go.  That was my bad.”

Raz had a feeling that was as close to an apology that Lili was going to get, but from the look on Lili’s face, that was more than she had been expecting. 

Lili shrugged. “Whatever, Blue. One of these days you’re going to figure out that I’m always right.”

Rax placed his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “And if she’s ever wrong, we’ll get the bravest or the most gullible person we know to break the news to her, so the rest of us can run for cover.”

Lili gave him a shove. “Shut it, Raz!” 

Raz chuckled, stumbling a bit. He grabbed Lili’s hand in his own as they walked, and she allowed him to. This was the first time Raz noticed that Lili was slowly starting to relax around the other kids. 

Raz glanced at his girlfriend and then back at the other kids. Raz knew this mission wasn't anything like what he and Lili had expected. They went into this thinking it would be a simple recon mission. They were just supposed to find the psychic disturbance and report back to Agent Nein. 

Now, they were no closer to finding the psychic disturbance, but they did find a ghost of a psychic kid with false memories, a blue haired girl who was being hunted by a terrifying otherworldly creature, a magic cabin that used to belong to witches, and an even stranger forest. 

Raz hoped that whatever happened next, he and Lili would be able to handle it on their own, and the other kids wouldn’t get themselves involved. However, with this group’s track record for seeking out dangerous and unusual situations, Raz wasn’t holding his breath. 

End of Act 1

I actually finished act 1? It’s been how many years and act 1 is finally complete?! I’m still having trouble believing it. This story still has two more acts to it. I have a lot of Act 2 written, but it was written a while ago, so I have to do a lot of rewriting. But at least I have a pretty good outline.

Thank you all for all your comments, they really keep me going and inspire me to continue to work on this story. Let me know what you guys thought of act 1.

If act 1 is all about meeting each other, then act 2 is about learning to trust each other, and act three… well, I wont say too much there.

If you want to support me, here is the link to my ko-fi

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[cosmicbug379]

Across the Sea-Chapter 2

Alright nerds, chapter 2 is FINALLY here!! After a month and a half, I’m so sorry for the long wait! I’m really excited about this story! I admit, I’m not totally confident in my Ezra writing abilities, so it’s not super dialogue or romance heavy at the moment. But I’m kind of wanting to focus more on the adventure part of the story. I hope you guys enjoy, even if it’s not perfect! This picture I just found on google, because Tumblr couldn’t find what I wanted. Also! Fun fact! I spent like 2 hours pouring over a map from the 1700s so all the islands actually exist! The general size/location and names of the islands are correct, but of course the rest is all made up because it’s my fantasy world and I can do what I want lol.

Characters: Ezra x reader

Words: 2802

Rating: T

Warnings: violence, caves/small spaces, a really big snake

After stopping in Tortuga and buying a smaller ship, you left your First Mate with your ship and your crew and a promise to meet back at Tortuga in five months. It would take you seven or eight weeks just to sail across the Atlantic to the Aethiopian Sea if the conditions were good; and you had no idea of what you would encounter when stopping to look for the aurelac gems.

You and Ezra chose a crew of six who wouldn’t ask questions to aid in your quest. The only reason you brought anyone extra with you was because the two of you couldn’t sail the damn thing alone. You had planned to bring members of your own crew, but you decided you’d rather have people who wouldn’t ask questions. The ones you chose were just looking for something to do, some work that would keep them busy. And most importantly they didn’t care if they would die. 

Now you and Ezra were in the captain’s cabin looking over the map and journals left to you. It was cramped, much smaller than your own ship, but you didn’t mind so much. It was nice to be close to him again. 

“No I think it’s this island here,” you said, pointing to a small island just east of Puerto Rico. “I’ve been to these ones here and they don’t have any rocks or caves. They’re all sand and maybe a few trees. The journal says there’s a cave, and we won’t find one there.”

“Are you sure about this, little bird? Tortola is barely even an island, I doubt it has any caves either.” Ezra seemed skeptical, but you were always the better navigator and better at riddles which was all that seemed to be written in the small leather-bound book.

“I’m sure, Ezra,” you replied. “I’ll go tell the others. It’s the closest, so starting there seems like a good idea to me. It’s no more than a day from here, probably less.”

“You’re the Captain here little bird, I will defer to your judgment,” he said, marking the little island. “We need to plot the rest of our course. If we meet something dangerous on this island, I want to be able to get away quickly and I want to be headed in the right direction.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be quick,” you sighed, smiling at him.

After giving your heading to your navigator, you went back into the cabin with Ezra. He had opened a bottle of rum and offered it to you. 

“If we’re going to be at this for a few more hours I’d say we deserve a drink,” he said with a smirk.

“I’d have to agree with you.” You took the bottle and took a sip before setting it on the table next to him. 

You poured over the maps and journal, figuring out the riddles and selecting the islands you thought would be correct. You decided there would be one more island on this side of the Atlantic before you had to sail to the Aethiopian Sea and search the islands close to the African coast. 

“Alright, it’s decided. After Tortola we head to Martinico, that’s the only one of those islands in that area that’s covered in jungles. Then across the Atlantic, we’ll have to sail south. There are hurricanes in this part of the sea this time of year and I don’t want to get caught in one of those in this tiny thing. Then when we get there, we start in Boavista, I think that’s the one this riddle is talking about. And then we sail north to Canaria, and then… To the continent? I have a friend from around here; he says a lot of the continent is desert, but this area here-the Sahara Desert-is the biggest. I think that’s what this part of the riddle means,” you said before reciting it to him. ‘Across the sea you have sailed, through many trials you have prevailed. Now trapped in a temple the goddess waits, but will brave the sun bleached gates? Once free, she is now confined, to live in a sea of a different kind.’ I’ve heard deserts described as a sea of sand. That must be what this means.” 

“Your cleverness never fails to amaze me, little bird,” Ezra said, smiling at you. 

“You’re just trying to gain favor with the captain,” you replied, marking another spot on the map.

“I thought I already had the favor of the captain,” he said, leaning closer. “Or did I imagine the way you were moaning my name last night?”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightly, but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your lips. You really were happy to be with him again. You kissed him eagerly, you couldn’t help yourself. Ezra smiled into the kiss and pulled you even closer, gripping your hips. You ran your fingers through his hair, stopping and toying with the blonde patch on his hairline. 

“It’s good to be with you again, Ezra.” you whispered to him.

“I agree, little bird. Though I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I will try to earn it. I never should have left you like that.” he said, pulling you into his lap and rubbing circles into your waist under your shirt.

“There’s nothing to forgive. He told you I was dead, there was no reason for you to come looking for me.”

“I still should have looked for you. I should have come back sooner,” he said.

“Ezra,” you replied sternly. “You did nothing wrong. If I was still upset with you, I never would have agreed to come with you.”

“I suppose I will have to let you win this fight, little bird,” he said, holding you a little tighter. 

You kissed him again, smiling and lifted his shirt over his head. Trailing your lips down his neck, you left love bites all the way down and on his collar bone. You were about to take off your own shirt when you heard a knock on the cabin door and you groaned quietly.

“Captain?” one of the men called. “We’re here. We can’t risk getting closer to the island, but we’ve let down the anchor and the boat is ready for you to sail to shore.”

“Thank you, we’ll be there in a moment. You all can rest, you’ve earned it.” she called back.

“Duty calls, birdie.” Ezra sang, pulling his shirt over his head.

“So it does,” you replied, standing to straighten your clothes.

You grabbed the journal and a waterskin, shoving them into the deep pockets of your coat before heading up onto the deck. 

“If we’re not back by nightfall, send someone after us,” you told the crew. “Otherwise, just stay here. Rest. We have a longer journey to the next island. Here, be ready to leave as soon as we get back.” 

The crew nodded and set about readying the ship for departure as you and Ezra got into your dinghy to sail to shore. Once on the island, you realized just how small it was. There were rocks everywhere you could see, but none of them seemed quite big enough to hold a cave. 

You pulled out the journal again, reading through it. 

“It definitely mentions a cave,” you said. “But I can’t for the life of me see where one might be.” 

Ezra read the journal again over your shoulder and looked about the island. 

“It says on the East side of the island, correct?” he asked.

“Yes, ‘facing the rising sun’ is what it says,” you were reading the riddle again and again. Why couldn’t you find the cave?

Ezra walked to the East side of the island and you followed, still looking at the journal. It should be here, why wasn’t it here?

“I think I’ve found our cave,” Ezra called to you, and you realized you had stopped while he kept going. 

When you got to him, he was standing knee deep in the water, looking at a particular rock. He pointed to it and at first you didn’t see why he had chosen that rock. But then you saw it. A small opening, just barely visible above the water. 

“Yes! You’re right! ‘You must be there when the time is right, or the cave will be hidden from your sight’!” you exclaimed.

“We can only get to the cave at low tide,” Ezra agreed. “It is most fortunate that we arrived when we did, birdie. The tide is beginning to recede. It will only be an hour or two more before we can get into the cave.”

“Ezra you’re a genius! I wasn’t sure what that line meant, but you figured it out!” you said, hugging him tightly.

“I just made a guess, I wouldn’t say I’m a genius. I just read more than your average pirate,” he smirked at you.

You smiled at him and sat down while you waited for low tide to come. Ezra was right, it was only an hour before the water was low enough for you to get into the cave. 

“We have to hurry,” you said. “I don’t want to be trapped in here when the tide comes back in.”

“That is something I can agree with. Lead the way, little bird.” he replied.

The two of you walked deeper into the cave, looking around. Just enough light filtered in through the mouth of the cave that you were able to see there was only one way for you to go. When it got dark enough you were worried about being able to see, you reached a hand out to the wall to guide you. 

After several minutes of walking you couldn’t feel the wall anymore and you stumbled into a cavern. Taking a few steps forward, you looked around, straining to see anything in the darkness. Suddenly, torches along the wall sprang to life. That was unusual, it startled you and you ran into Ezra. He caught you easily and pointed to a raised dais in the middle of what looked like a lake inside the cavern.

“There it is,” he whispered. “The next aurelac gem, now we just have to find a way across.”

You smiled and practically ran to the edge of the lake. Looking around, you saw a boat close to the wall. You pulled it closer to the water and then hesitated. It couldn’t possibly be this easy, could it? You pulled out the journal again, reading through it. 

“What’s wrong, birdie?” Ezra asked, sensing your discomfort.

“It can’t be this easy. I just can’t be,” you said, flipping through the pages. 

After finding what you were looking for, you read through the writing quickly. 

“It says we’ll face trials at every turn. The first will be… the writing is smudged, I can’t make it out,” you said.

“I think I just found out what it is,” Ezra said, backing away slowly.

“What are you talking about?” you looked up and then saw it. A sea serpent rising from the lake. A very large sea serpent. 

It watched you for a long moment, like it was trying to figure out what you were. You and Ezra both drew your pistols and backed away from the water. The serpent ultimately decided that the two of you looked like a healthy snack and lunged for you. 

You both jumped out of the way before running towards opposite sides of the cavern. The serpent lunged towards Ezra when he fired his pistol at it’s big head and you looked around for anything that might help. You looked up at the ceiling of the cave and saw stalactites hanging everywhere. If you could fire a shot just right, maybe one of them would fall. 

You heard Ezra yell and you looked at him. The serpent had him trapped and it was only a matter of time. 

“Ezra!” you called. “The ceiling!” 

He looked up and saw what you were pointing at and fired his pistol at the stalactite above the serpent’s head. You fired a shot at the same one, but it wasn’t working. Any of them big enough to hurt it wouldn’t fall just from firing a few shots. 

“Hey! Over here!” you yelled at the serpent before firing a shot at it’s head. 

The bullet managed to pierce it’s hide, but that only angered the monster. Swinging its head around, the serpent chose you as the new target. You didn’t move, waiting for the right moment. It picked up speed as it slithered through the water to you and still you waited. At the last possible moment, you jumped out of the way, and the serpent ran into the wall. 

You smiled as it appeared dazed, but you stopped smiling when you realized that the stalactites all over the cave were falling. You jumped behind a rock, hoping it would shield you just enough to not get hit by the falling rocks. 

When the dust settled, you looked to the serpent. It was pinned down, several stalactites had gone right through it, but it was still moving. You made your way over to it, watching it struggle. It lunged for you once, but couldn’t move close enough to hurt you. You drew your sword, and as it lunged for you again you stabbed it through the eye. 

The serpent’s screams were so loud you had to cover your ears, but you had managed to kill it. When it’s screams stopped, you took your sword and turned to smile at Ezra; but he wasn’t there.

“Ezra?” you cried. “EZRA! No…”

You ran to the other side of the cavern and started digging through rocks. He had to be here, he had to survive. You couldn’t lose him so quickly after getting him back. Hearing a noise, you ran over to it and tried to pull a bigger rock up. It was heavy, you almost couldn’t lift it, but then you felt it being pushed from below.

When you had heaved the rock off of Ezra you looked at him and hugged him tightly.

“Ezra you’re alive!” 

“Yes, I’m alive,” he said, holding onto you.

You helped him up and looked him over. A few scratches, but overall he had been lucky. The first rock to fall near him had a divot in it just big enough for him to avoid being crushed and was big enough to keep any others from hurting him. It was a miracle it wasn’t worse.

“Let’s get that gem now, little bird.” he said, pointing to the gem in the middle of the lake.

The boat was not so lucky in escaping the rocks. Your only way across the island was crushed and shattered.

“We’ll have to swim across,” you said.

“Not necessarily,” Ezra replied, pointing to something in the water. “The serpent we defeated is rather large, you can see its body just below the surface of the water. I think we may be able to walk over it to the island.”

You looked at it and agreed with him before the two of you scrambled over the serpent to the island in the lake. Grabbing the gem quickly, you managed to climb over the serpent a second time before the torches along the walls went out.

You felt Ezra’s hand grab yours and pull you towards where you both thought the entrance to the cavern was. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw a pinprick of light and followed it out of the cave. The tide had already started to come in and by the time you made it out, the water was up to your waist.

The sun was already setting when you and Ezra climbed back onto the ship and into the Captain’s cabin.

“Two gems down, three more to go,” you said, setting the gem you had retrieved from the cave next to the one Ezra had brought with him.

“That was an exciting day, wasn’t it?” Ezra said with a smile.

“Indeed it was,” you moved to the bed and sat down. “They’re all going to be like that, aren’t they?”

“I think they will be,” he replied sitting next to you. “But I think we’ll be able to manage. We got out of that one alive. We’ve been in tighter spots. We’ll be alright, birdie.”

You nodded and leaned into his side, “Let’s hope the others are a little easier than this one.”

Ezra laughed and pulled you closer to lay down next to him on the bed. 

“Let’s hope they are,” he whispered. 

You smiled at him and held onto him tightly. Yes you were safe for now, but who knows what else you might face searching for the other three gems.

Tags: @rzrcrst​ @longitud-de-onda​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @landlockedmermaid77​ @duamuteffe​ @princessbatears​ @hdlynnslibrary​ @beskars​ @lokiaddicted​ @mrsparknuts​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @readsalot73​ @ezraslittlebirdie​ @pascalispedro​

My taglist is a little wonky, so I might be missing a couple people! If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know!!

[capricornus-rex]

The Flicker of Rebellion (4)

Requested by: @calkesttiss​ | Prompt:

Ooo what about Cal and reader going undercover and having to wear inquisitor or trooper uniforms

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 - End | Masterlist

4 of ?

The elevator door whirred and jerked back into its frame, the four of you step out of the lift and reviewed the map again.

“From where we stand, we just head straight north,” Cal directed.

“The vault is located at the west wing of this area. It’s at the end of the path,” you add.

Cal turned his attention to your two Stormtrooper decoys, “You two will have to cover us by the time we get to the vault. Make sure no one gets past, understood?”

“Yessir!”

All of you continued on, no slip-ups so far, hence the act is still holding up well. You remember what Fane told you before you left the ship. The vault is possibly one of the many areas your access card cannot take you to.

Along the way, more and more eyes were glued to you. Small groups of Stormtroopers cease their gossiping just to look at you. Officers would look over their shoulders once they’ve walked far enough from you. Cal can sense the anxiety and suspicion that they exude, but you had to continue on.

“You there! Excuse me!”

An officer was bold enough to stop you in your tracks. You looked over your shoulder and an elderly officer comes charging towards you.

“I haven’t seen you until now. Who might you be?”

“Perhaps you haven’t received the memo. I’m the Sixth Sister,” you easily went back into character.

“I’m afraid I haven’t received the memo, indeed. What brings you here in Cheth?”

“I am here to oversee the operations in this planet.”

“Let me see your profile data card,”

“My what?”

“Your profile data card. Your identification records. Surely, you and your commander here have been issued one upon your arrival.”

You and Cal exchange glances.

Come on, think fast! The voice in your head cried as your heart pounded. But in that same moment, you’ve calmed yourself within and you played along.

“Of course,” you complied, until you wave your hand in front of the officer. “But you don’t really need to see our identification.”

A vibration brushed over the officer. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed.

“I don’t really need to see your identification.” He repeated.

Cal’s eyes widened, his lips slightly parted upon witnessing you pull off a Jedi mind trick for the first time. You wave your hand in front of him again, but you kept your hand close to your chest so there aren’t any witnesses aside from your companions. In addition, your voice was gradually sounding back to its original tone.

“You will leave us alone and not bother us anymore.”

“I will leave you alone and not bother you anymore.”

And another.

“This encounter never happened.”

The officer repeated your sentence in verbatim.

“Walk away and move along now.”

The officer did walk away. You beckoned everyone to keep moving. As for Cal, he kept looking over his shoulder and back to you.

“What was that back there?”

“Huh?”

“That!”

“Shh! Not so loud!”

“Since when did you know how to use the Jedi mind trick?”

“Well, I’ve only seen it from my master… during the Clone Wars. Ever since then, I’ve practiced on my own. I’ll teach you what I can once all this is over.”

Later on, you’ve reached the door to the vault, it was another large blast door. Apparently, the control panel of the door doesn’t recognize the card you have on hand. One of your Stormtroopers stepped forward.

“Excuse me, this is where I come in.”

It turns out one of your Stormtroopers was adept in overriding door controls—among other things in his expertise—you were inside the vault’s lobby in less than a minute. The guard at the terminal was startled by your presence, but he didn’t sound the alarm yet as your disguise convinced him.

“Can I help you?”

Another wave of your hand and you fixate your eyes onto the guard on deck.

“You will let us into this vault.”

The guard repeated your words and did as he was told. The blast door retracted open.

“You will keep this door open until we’re gone.”

The guard complied while under the influence of your Jedi mind trick. This is where your Stormtroopers’ cue comes in. They stand ground by the terminal, rifles at the ready.

A vast library of data cards revealed before you as you stepped inside the archives vault. They were stored in cascades, untouched and undisturbed except for a mechanical arm that is operated from the other side—the side where you and Cal stood.

“There’s got to be thousands of these!” Cal exclaimed.

“And we only need to find one…”

Cal took the initiative in finding the plan in the terminal computer while you took control of the mechanical arm’s lever. His fingers flicked in lightning speed on the keypad as he figures how to narrow down the search for the specific data card.

“The plans are labeled in codenames,” Cal blurted.

“Does it show any other kind of information other than the name?”

“The location!”

Cal typed away, expertly navigating his way through the search mode of the terminal—scrolling through multitudes of entries in the database, finding clues and guessing what kinds of codenames the Imps could ever come up with and use.

He muttered out the names as he scrolled through. Both of you flinched at the sound of a body thudding.

“What was that!?” you exclaimed.

“I knocked the guard out cold! He’s snapped out of it!”

“Won’t be long until we start having company!”

Suddenly, time started to feel like it was ticking faster. Cal picked up his pace and skimmed through the list until he found one that seemed the most convincing. His instincts were flaring when he saw the entry’s name.

“Find anything?”

“Project Frost… this has gotta be it! Gimme a sec, I’ll take one quick look.”

The entry showed a preview of the plan—at least the general parts of it—and it further debunked Cal’s presumption that it was the one they were looking for.

“How’d you know that is it?”

“The database entry shows an image of a planet and a map—the planet is the exact same as Ilum when we saw it in the conference.”

Without a doubt, Cal was right and he flashed the beacon of the database entry, revealing its position to you and so you turn the lever to the direction where the data card is.

“Guys! COMPANY!”

From behind, the sound of blasters was deafening and it nearly broke your focus. You narrowed your sights on the flashing light of the data card. A stray blaster hits the wall on your right, barely passing by a hair strand before meeting its mark; Cal finally brandishes his lightsaber and joined the volley, covering for you as you reach for the plans.

“Come on, come on…!” you hiss at yourself through clenched teeth.

Your heart skipped a beat when the arm clings onto the data card’s tray, the arm automatically delivers it to the receiving chute as you eagerly stood there watching the process. You snatched the data card in mere seconds before it actually touches the receiving tray.

“I GOT IT!”

Eventually, you ignited your own lightsaber and returned fire. The Stormtroopers afforded some banter when they saw what they’re dealing with.

“J-JEDI?!”

“THERE’S TWO OF THEM?!”

“Oh no… oh no no no no no…!”

“Not good!”

The Stormtroopers were twice as confused when they saw two of their supposed comrades are firing back at them. The moment you and Cal took out your sabers, their panic increased tenfold and outweighed their confusion with the Stormtrooper decoys. With every step forward for your small band, the Stormtroopers fell back as you thinned out their numbers.

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here!”

You and Cal took the lead, cutting down whatever stood in your path. An alarm blared across the halls, it was followed by a monotonous announcement.

“Assault Squadrons Six and Ten are required. Engage rebel fighters in Quadrant C.”

The announcement repeated itself over the alarm. The said squadrons poured out of nowhere, marching in complete unison, officers gave way to the dispatched squad as they strode through the hallways. In the back of your minds, the fighters have come through but you’re not sure how long they could hold up until reinforcements and transports arrive.

“They need our help,” Cal prompted.

Cal took the lead in heading out of the base. Retracing your steps of how you got inside in the first place, you avoided large groups and slipped into detours just so the group could avoid getting outnumbered, outgunned, and overpowered.

[deepsubmission]

Healers - Part 1.0 (The Chase)

I’m not a writer, but this came to me in a dream.  I’ve transcribed it to the best of my ability.  There are 6 or 7 parts so far.

An eyeful of dreams rotated from forefront to behind, though still at the surface of my mind.  A thick blur blanketed the morning as I struggled to awaken.  This would be the filter of the day.  A hazy washout glazing my vision, graying out clarity between what is and what isn’t.  A part of me has stayed behind, refusing to engage in the physical world and the reaction to it by my senses.  I pause now, unsure if I have just awakened or haven’t slept at all.  Or if I’m still asleep.

The over-sized carport opens up into a covered breezeway to the lodge.  The floor is covered in large square tiles made of limestone and separated by wooden planks in a grid pattern.  The walls are made from cedar planks, generous windows on the sides.  Looking behind me, there is no wall.  An opening, three cars wide to allow anything to come or go.

There is no driveway, just a long road that goes nowhere.  Except here.  Mammoth sequoias line the road.  Only ferns and broad leafed foliage can collect enough sun to survive underneath them.

It seems we’re running.  I’m driving fast and paranoid from the danger presumably pursuing us from the bullfight.

***

Ernesto’s glory days were behind him, that’s for sure.  The formerly great matador still carried himself with pomp and swagger.  His black and silver sequined outfit demanded it, and he was more than eager to deliver on it.  The wall had been removed from the ring today.  I sat in the front row with Lacy.  She looked pretty and well kept as always and was dressed in a nice pair of navy shorts, a preppy white blouse, and some expensive sandals.  She looked older than I remembered.  And somehow friendlier.  The crowd was sparse, as is usually the case for a matinee.  Ernesto strutted over to me before the show was to begin and wedged himself between Lacy and me.  He was looking at me and then whispered into my ear.  Inappropriately close and almost intimate, like a lover might.  His breath was rancid and I was glad when he stood up and stepped away.  He laughed loud enough for everyone to hear, making a show of the fact that he thought he had just told me something of great amusement.  “He is so disgusting,” Lacy whispered.

“Yea, you’re not the one who had to smell his breath.”

I felt a pinch on my ear.  “Amigo.”  Long pause.  “Show some respect,” came the slow Spanish accented voice from behind me.  “Who the fuck are you, huh?  HUH?”

Lacy’s eyes were bigger than normal which is really saying a lot, as her eyes always were big and beautiful.  One of about a hundred reasons that I was secretly in love with her.  I was more annoyed than afraid. I pulled my head slowly away to release the fingers that held me.  I turned and looked.  There were three men, all of them with dreadful stares.  The man directly behind me was dirty and unkept with dark hair draped loosely over his eyes, the other two with lighter hair, thinner and taller, and less Spanish looking then their counterpart.  They carried solemn, serious faces and looked hard into me in a way that I could almost feel something actual and physical penetrating my body.

I looked them down, stood and took Lacy’s hand.  “C’mon.”

We exited slowly up the steps.  The stares felt like burns in my back.  When we reached the concession area there was a big group of men dressed in old football uniforms with leather helmets.  The place was open and uncovered, but presumably fenced in somewhere beyond my view. I realized that I didn’t remember coming in.  A group of several dozen people were chanting “Hold that line” and the chants grew louder as their number grew.  Today was the day the coach would be making his final cuts.  There were wooden folding chairs in a line, apparently one designated for each player.  I was asked to light them all on fire at the bottoms of the legs “To the best of your ability, don’t spare a single one,” the coach said to me.  I nodded my head and did as he asked.  It took only about a minute for all the chairs to become completely engulfed in orange fire, as the wood was porous and very flammable.  Lacy tugged at my arm indicating it was time to go.  Someone wanted us out of there.  I was oblivious, but she knew.  I turned and saw a posse forming at the portal to the ring.  The three men were yelling to each other and to the others that had gathered, everyone’s heads careening around hastily trying to spot us.  

“Whoa, wait a minute.  We’re not leaving.  I haven’t done anything and I’m damn sure not in the mood for running away.”

“A, there might be more happening than you know here,” she said in a curt, cautious tone.  “More than you might recollect or understand.”

I let a nervous “ha” slip from my mouth.  But settling down on me was a familiar realization, the one you get when you’ve been found out. I’ve had it more often than I’m proud to admit.  The hair on my neck stood stiff like hackles, they were coming for me.

We walked briskly, staying roughly on a line to an exit that kept the fire between us and the portal, hoping that it would block their view. When we got out the door Lacy ran top speed to the car, which was an amusing sight for my normally proper and calm friend.

We had left the top down on the old, white Carerra and both of us leaped over our doors into the car.  I thought us inconspicuous but for the loud engine, and didn’t see anyone following from behind.  To the right was a covered walkway separating two parking lots, which I presumed was used during the rains.  I had heard people talk about the sudden storms and floods here, but it was always arid and dusty whenever I had visited.

As we approached the end of the walkway, a red Bronco pulled out from behind it and turned to face us.  I braked and saw the dark haired guy from the arena behind the wheel, one of his sandy haired companions in the passenger seat.  We made eye contact and I heard his motor rev.  At the same time, instinctively, I threw the car into reverse and flew backward a few hundred feet and turned hard into an perpendicular aisle, almost losing control.  There was not enough time to make an attempt at going forward, as the Bronco was nearly on our front bumper.  I kept flooring it in reverse, the engine whining hard and made another fierce turn at the next aisle.  In just a split second I was able to throw it into first and spin out forward, the Bronco just missing slamming into the side of us as it spun around the turn close behind.  I heard a crashing sound and in my rear view mirror saw that they had clipped a couple parked cars making their turn.  I focused, gripping the wheel with clenched hands, made a few quick rights and lefts, darting in and out of rows of cars.  With Lacy bouncing and swaying in her adjacent bucket seat, we made it to the exit and cut hard right onto the main road, spinning wheels as I threw it into second gear.

I floored it and quickly put some distance between us and our pursuers.  But just ahead there was some traffic coming up and cars stacked about five deep in front of a red light.  There was no oncoming traffic, so I swerved into the oncoming lane and looked frantically both ways and then darted left at the traffic signal through the red light just between two cars.  I almost hit the one that I squeezed in front of and the driver laid on the horn.  I felt sweat on my chest and looked back to see the Bronco stopped at the light, but forcing its way through, lots of cars stopping and starting, all of them honking at them.

I floored the Carerra again and quickly got it up to about 90, which was pretty fast for a commercial area.  Thankfully there were not many cars around.  Lacy held her hands in tight fists raised just above her thighs and I could see that she was shaking.  I thought of saying something light hearted, but didn’t.  The exit ramp to the freeway was just ahead and a swerved around the car in my adjacent lane and took it.  I had put maybe a quarter mile of space ahead of the Bronco and pushed the car faster.  On the freeway I got up to 130 without much trouble. Within five minutes I couldn’t see them at all.

“Any one of these exits can get us to the woods,” Lacy said flatly. We were headed north, desert all around except to the west, where there were tree lines and hills in the distance.  I took the next off ramp and left under the bridge onto a two lane road.  The road was dead straight, presumably a straight shot into the trees.  I drove fast, but not at an unreasonable pace, the sun dropping in front of us just left of center.

At the entrance through the line of trees, the forest swallowed us immediately.  The road seemed to turn old, there were no signs, no lines on the cracking pavement.  The Carerra was reasonably equipped to handle the narrow and winding roads through this mature forest.  I should have been nervous, but I felt a calm certainty in my body and soon forgot about our pursuers.  The top was down on this warm, comfortable day but I looked up to see almost no sky at all.  Just late afternoon light flickering through the giant trees.  A thought passed my mind that there are mini ecosystems high up in those branches.  Evolved species that live hundreds of feet up in the air, never to touch solid ground.  Rodents and bugs and other plants that grow out of the over sized branches.  My next thought was how I would be able to navigate without being able to see the stars tonight.  This is how the mind of a runaway operates.  Curious, creative at times, and always looking for exit signs.

“Left ahead,” she said, breaking my thoughts.  I nodded and followed her directions.  These were her woods, not mine.

“Protectors, Athan.  They’ve watched your every step.  They guard and defend without care as to who is right or wrong.  I know you know this, but you’re acting like you don’t.  You have to be careful.  You’ve got to keep your distance no matter how tempted you are.”

I sighed as a flood of memories rose like flood waters in me. Unwanted, invasive, inescapable memories.  “God dammit.”  I felt betrayed.  I wanted to fight, to kill.  But the numbers were stacked against me, not to mention otherworldly forces they wield.  A band of brothers designed to protect the deity I left behind.  I had been allowed in, ushered in, actually.  Allowed to be loved and to love back.  It was real, all of it real, and then somehow it went horrendously wrong.  There were a thousand ways to blame myself, and yet another thousand to blame.  Looking back, I could see now that everywhere there was a guardian.  In the woods a vulture and black wolf, in the castle a host of magicians and dragons.  All kinds of defense mechanisms, alter beings designed to force me into a mold or to force me out.  I left willingly without a word.  Maybe that was not acceptable.

***

[thekytchensynk]

Ain’t No Picnic (6/9)

Summary: They were just supposed to head over to the island real quick, just to see what was going on. After all, if pirates were trying to ambush and kill the Straw Hat crew, how could Coby NOT go? And how could Helmeppo let him go alone? It should be simple enough, but nothing can be taken for granted in the New World, and when things go awry, Helmeppo finds himself separated from his captain on an island chain full of pirates who probably won’t be too happy to see a Marine if their paths cross.Oh yeah. And one of those pirates is the infamous “Surgeon of Death,” Trafalgar Law… Warnings: Occasional strong language Read it on AO3

__________

Law hadn’t been kidding about any of it. His power absolutely felt weird, and while Helmeppo managed not to freak out outwardly, the sense of literally being dissected, even if there was no pain with it, certainly had him freaking out on the inside.

So he could literally just cut my brain out or something? I wish I could see… no, no I think I’m glad I can’t see what’s going on. What if … come on, if he wanted you dead, he didn’t even have to waste the energy to walk over here. Please just hurry up, hurry up, hurry up…

When the rest of the pirate crew returned with their guns, Helmeppo found that news mildly interesting. Apparently, when you have one of the most powerful pirates on the seas messing around in your cranium, a few mooks seem way less dangerous, with or without guns.

Luckily, as weird as Helmeppo found the situation, apparently the band of pirates found it even weirder. They approached, took in the sight of their dismembered-yet-still-living crewmates and fled. One of them retched on the way out. Even the big guy turned tail. Apparently once you hit a certain level of notoriety, this level of problem just sort of solved itself.

Only one -- Arlen, Helmeppo recognized, the one who’d been here earlier to keep watch -- didn’t immediately run. He stood there shaking, holding a gun but not actually pointing it at anyone. “G… give them back,” he said in a quavering tone, his voice breaking on the last word.

Helmeppo didn’t know what happened next -- the scary pirate was behind him, out of his line of sight -- but Arlen let out a terrified moan and cowered back, clinging to his weapon as though it were a child’s toy but still not aiming it and still not backing down. “Please,” he forced out, and you could almost feel the desperation in every word. “Please. Give them both back.”

“Why?” Law’s voice demanded a full explanation, not just a plea.

Arlen looked down at the ground. Took a breath. Clearly steeled himself. Then looked up, past Helmeppo to where he was presumably meeting Law’s gaze. Brave bastard, Helmeppo thought.

“B… because we all need to leave together!” Arlen said, leaning forward a little with the urgency of his words. “Because it won’t be right if it’s not all of us. We can’t just … just leave them here!”

“So because you want me to,” Law clarified.

The guy frowned, but didn’t disagree. Instead he said, “I’ll do anything if you let them go. Please.”

“And what can you do?”

“Maybe he can tell you about The Twins,” Helmeppo suggested.

“The Twins?” Huh, Law could sound surprised. Seemed like this might be new information to him, which was unexpected. The guy gave off an air like he already knew everything about his situation.

Arlen hesitated, looking down at the head of his captain.

“Don’t-” she said in a warning tone.

But Arlen’s mouth was set in a thin line, and he looked back up at Law. “Yes. I’ll tell you what I know. So please.”

Law walked past Helmeppo to stand by -- actually, to veritably tower over -- Arlen. The guy was only a couple inches north of five feet tall. Helmeppo decided that had to be a sign the treatment was over, and to be fair, he did feel better. The headache remained, and the light of the sun -- now definitely heading toward the horizon, though it hadn’t begun to turn sunset just yet -- still felt way too bright. But his brain felt like his own again. He also found Law had removed the rope at some point, so he busied himself gathering the weapons from the two partial pirates.

One of the knives, he stuck in his belt. It was tiny compared to the weapons he preferred -- it would be like fighting with a needle. But better than nothing, he supposed. The rest of the weapons, he sought out one of the frequent holes in the giant lilypad where the water peeked through and tossed them into the depths.

It looked like something had actually either cut or fallen through here, and he could see the plant itself was almost as thick as his hand was long, made of leathery plant fiber and composed of an interlocking series of chambers that presumably trapped air and let it buoy up this whole island thing. Leave it to nature in the New World to make everything, including lilypads, bigger and tougher than anywhere else.

All the while, he listened to one pirate grill another. The Twins, it turned out, had been conjoined at one point and eaten a devil fruit that gave some sort of push-and-pull power. They’d hoped the power might be able to separate the two of them, and to be fair, it apparently had. But the devil fruit split as well, leaving one of them with the ability to push things that approached him and the other with the ability to pull them.

Normally that wouldn’t be too much of an issue. But on an unsteady, flimsy island like this one? Could the push guy use it to push someone into the ocean? Keep them there?

Helmeppo had thought days ago, when they first heard about this whole thing, that it sounded stupid to try to overwhelm a crew like the Straw Hats with sheer numbers. But if you could force them into diving deep after their crewmates with devil fruit powers? It might work then. If they could just get them in the water and keep them there, it might work. It wouldn’t be easy still, not with monsters like them, but it would give them a shot.

Of course, he also assumed they expected to only be fighting the straw hats. The Heart Pirates and Coby showing up too probably were a whole other wrench in the plans.

When he returned after tossing the weapons, Arlen was helping his captain scurry off into the underbrush, followed by Butterfingers. Law watched them until they were hidden in the undergrowth, then said, “He said your weapons are over there.” He indicated “over there” with a tilt of his head.

Wordlessly, Helmeppo followed that … well, direction seemed too strong, so that suggestion and, sure enough, not that far along he found his weapons both stuck in the stalk of one of the massive leaves. He wondered if they’d found them a bit too unwieldy to use properly. Why else abandon them like this rather than replace some of the clearly inferior weapons they had?

Still, there was no denying, having them at his hips again made him feel a lot better. He still kept the extra knife as well though. At this point, he wasn’t interested in taking any chances.

Once he returned to the little clearing, he didn’t even have to ask “what next?” Law had started walking away the moment he arrived, and in a continuation of nearly each time before, Helmeppo followed. This time, though, he got where they were going. He could see the thinning of the branches and leaves in this direction now. They had to be reaching the edge of the island.

A couple minutes walk and they finally broke out of the foliage. The ocean stretched before them: dark, fairly calm and deceptively beautiful. The sunlight shattered across the low little wavelets, painting with a broad and glittering brush. Outward, dotted on the horizon, lay other lilypad islands. Water kept the very edges of this one free of plants and debris. As the men walked out to the very edge, it dipped slightly under their weight, wetting Law’s already-sodden shoes and Helmeppo’s bare feet.

Helmeppo tried to take stock of the situation. Three lily pads visible from here. The one to the left looked like it might be the main one -- at the very least, even at this distance, it clearly dwarfed the other two he could see, and he got the sense it was bigger than this monster as well. The one almost dead ahead looked … well, not great. A dark cloud lay low over it, painting the whole thing in shadows. As he watched, lances of lightning struck once, twice, thrice in quick succession. The target was hidden in the undergrowth, but he winced in sympathy.

Sometimes when Coby got too pent up with fanboyism, he needed someone to listen as he explained just how cool Luffy and the rest of the crew he’d built were, and Helmeppo played that role pretty much exclusively. He didn’t always listen closely … OK, he usually didn’t listen all that closely. But he remembered the broad strokes. Their navigator had some sort of magic wand or something that let her control weather, so that would be her, he presumed.

Way off to the right, a third lilypad floated -- the smallest of the group. It only had a few low sprouts.

Nothing like a way out of their current situation presented itself. He glanced back at the pirate, hoping to catch a lead there.

Law stared down into the water and had begun walking along the shore. He was looking for something, and Helmeppo wasn’t exactly sure what, so he followed at a distance, mostly keeping watch for danger. He doubted much of anything on this island could give the pirate much of a workout now that he knew to keep a watch for those drowning vines. But Helmeppo figured it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out.

It took about ten minutes, but at last Law stopped and crouched down at the edge of the water, the “shore” dipping further beneath him the closer he got to the side. Curious, Helmeppo neared and peered down into the water too.

At first, it was an exercise in futility -- the glinting of the sun on the unquiet water made it difficult to see. But when he followed Law’s example, crouching and leaning a little closer (and boy did that make his back feel exposed) he finally saw it. Faint and indistinct under the water, he could see pale lines, twisting and cris-crossing one another in the darkness a dozen feet or more down.

Vines? But they weren’t vertical, like most of the ones he’d seen under there before. They were winding around one another in a horizontal direction. It extended out toward the main island, and disappeared under their feet to some point further under this one. What was it for? Catching fish, maybe? But … no, that wouldn’t work.

“Like an umbilical cord,” Law said clinically.

And it clicked. That first fight. The way they’d been dropped into the water, and all funneled along a very specific route, onto this island, where they’d been left to wander. The main island had … had it fed them to this one?

And would it work both ways?

It kind of made sense. Sure, stumbling around on the island had its own hazards. But there would be benefits to also ping-ponging potential meals around. Exhausting them. Separating them. And he remembered hitting a couple branches on his way here. So, some people probably never made it out of the tunnels themselves. Easy pickings for those vines to drag down toward the ocean floor.

And if they were…

“We’re looking for an area of open lily pad?” Helmeppo asked.

“Yes,” Law confirmed, turning and working his way back into the underbrush, following the direction that tangle of underwater vines had been taking.

Well, Helmeppo thought, he’d need to re-evaluate his thoughts on the Surgeon of Death. Still really cool, and very scary, but also incredibly observant and smart. He’d already kind of understood what he was looking for before they reached the edge of the island, and worked out how it probably worked. He was just trying to find the right area to find the way back.

He wondered why the pirate didn’t just try to make a raft to return, then dismissed it in the same moment. There wasn’t anything sturdy to build with on this island, even assuming either of them knew how to build a solid raft with proper materials. And there were the sea kings. And the vines. It might be incredibly dangerous for someone with a devil fruit to trust himself to an underwater passage, but it had taken less than a minute to make the crossing. It actually would be the better option.

So he searched.

It only took a few minutes to find, between the two of them. Helmeppo discovered it first, an open spot about twenty feet across and surrounded by long plants that looked like some form of wild rice to his inexpert eye. A way to draw people to the spot, perhaps? Unsure how formal he was supposed to be with a powerful pirate, he shouted “Over here!” to get Law’s attention.

Which led them to this moment -- standing across from one another in the little clearing, trying not to look like they had anything to do with one another.

Helmeppo still wasn’t sure where he stood with the pirate. They’d each gotten the other out of a bad situation, which might make them allies, of a sort. Or it might just make them even. In everything he’d seen so far, Law seemed a spare individual, not just in build but in action. He did the things he had to, not wasting time or energy elsewhere. So he might be tolerating Helmeppo’s presence because he trusted him not to do anything dumb for the moment, and trusted his own ability to put the Marine down if he was wrong. Or he may have just decided that stopping a Marine from following him wasn’t worth the energy. Who could tell.

Was dealing with pirates always so confusing?

At least with most of the Marines, Helmeppo knew generally what they were thinking and what they wanted. They were usually really straightforward about it within the ranks, actually. Clear orders were key in their hierarchy. And in his personal life … well, Coby was his best friend. And he could be almost hilariously direct. It was charming, in its way, even if it could also be highly embarrassing. They guy often wore his heart all the way out on his sleeve.

So dealing with this taciturn person was kiiiinda stressful. ‘Course maybe he was just worried because a trip through the ocean couldn’t be a fun thing for a devil fruit user, even on purpose.

“So … we’re just waiting for it to do what it did before?” he asked at last, to break the silence.

“Probably.”

Not exactly a conversation, this. Glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the island they hoped to travel to, he asked, “Since we got there late, what did we get ourselves tangled up in?”

“An ambush,” Law said, as though it were obvious, which … yeah, it was. He knew that.

“How many crews were there? I know the numbers don’t really matter for you, but it would help me know just how terrified to be.”

Again, that barely-there eyebrow raise. “I was starting to think you were too foolish to be terrified.”

Helmeppo tried to bury the sudden thought -- I’m being laughed at by a super scary pirate -- and sighed. “Not an entirely incorrect assessment.”

“Well. I’m not sure exactly how many,” Law said, answering the original question instead of commenting on that. “They were trying to hide their numbers at first. Our group intended to sneak up and scout the situation. But then Strawhat-ya…”

He let the sentence sort of drift off there, but it didn’t need an end to be understood. And it wasn’t just that Coby had regaled him with so many tales of Luffy’s exploits. He’d seen it himself. In Luffy, back when he took his father down. But also a little closer to home.

“He saw the setup and couldn’t stop himself?” Helmeppo asked.

“He never wants to stop himself,” Law said, almost dismissively. “I assume your friend too?”

“He can,” Helmeppo said, feeling a little defensive. But… “Sometimes, though, he doesn’t. It’s an impulse. When he sees something wrong that he can stop, I think his feet move before he even realizes it.”

“An animal instinct,” Law agreed. He shifted his stance, glancing around the surroundings, before adding, “So how’d you end up working with him? If he’s who I think, he seems all in on the Marine hero stuff. You guys seem pretty… different.”

A bit rude but not wrong, really. Helmeppo considered and discarded a snarky answer, and went with, “I tried to kill him?”

“With those?” He seemed a little doubtful, which was fair. If he knew something about Coby, then he had to know that current-Coby probably wouldn’t be in significant danger from those weapons wielded by the likes of him.

“A gun” he said, somewhat proud of the fact that this got another slight reaction out of the pirate. “But this was a while ago. He wasn’t quite the same then as he is now.”

Whatever Law was imagining, Helmeppo doubted it was anything like the short, slightly chubby kid he’d first met. Hell, past Coby could be seen basically nowhere in current Coby’s features. For Helmeppo it had been a gradual change, so much so that looking at old pictures felt like looking at a stranger -- for both of them actually. He wondered if everyone had that experience.

Law seemed about to ask something, then stopped himself and actually smiled, very slightly and very ruefully. “I guess no one can tell how things will go.”

Quiet fell again, but this time it was a little less awkward. When Helmeppo broke it this time, it was less about any noise, and just a strange need to say, out loud, something that had been gnawing at him since he washed up here. “Well, I’m sure everything is fine. But I’m going to feel a lot better when I can keep an eye on him.”

“You believe you can rein him in?”

Helmeppo laughed. “What? Hardly. But I can watch his back.”

“Fair enough. Sounds like he really is like … well. Sounds different, for a Marine.”

He almost retorted something like Marines aren’t all exactly the same, but he thought better of it. Not just because gainsaying the Surgeon of Death still felt mildly suicidal, but because … weren’t they? Of course, not exactly. But weren’t there some penalties for marines who didn’t fit into the proper marine mold? Wasn’t it what got Smoker stuck with G5 originally? Hadn’t it driven off Admiral .. no … Aokiji? He had a feeling it was why Garp had kept them -- more particularly Coby -- close when he could.

“Yeah. He’s different,” he settled on. “But I want to help him out because of it.”

“I’d like to get back to my crew too,” Law said, tones low as though admitting this wasn’t something he expected to be doing this afternoon. “The ship’s just off the main island, so wherever they ended up, they should be regrouping there. And then I guess we’ll see how well planned this whole thing was.”

“Why’s that?”

“We know the plan was to lure the Straw Hats in, and to ambush them,” Law said, speaking slowly as though checking his work as he talked. “And clearly they expected to be dumped into the ocean. That crew in the cave had coverings on their guns to protect the powder. But they seemed surprised to be dumped here, with us.”

“So you think they may not understand about the underwater tunnels?”

“Yeah. In which case they may not think to try to pull back together, or do so quickly. So us regrouping on the main island makes the most sense. Our ship and the Straw Hats’ is there. And yours, I assume.”

“Well…”

“No?” He sounded a tiny bit surprised. “One of the smaller islands then? How did you get to where the fight was?”

Helmeppo suppressed the urge to squirm as he admitted, “We don’t... actually have a ship here. Exactly.”

Law looked up, eyes disbelieving. “You just got a ride here?”

“More or less.”

Every inch of the idiocy of that decision was laid out in Law’s expression. “And you planned to get home by-”

“Our ride is coming back later?”

Law just stared for another long few seconds before uttering the only possible question. “Why?”

“So the rest of the crew wouldn’t know,” he said, trying to explain, because yeah, looking back now, it was an even stupider plan than he’d originally thought. “You have to know this sort of excursion isn’t exactly approved by the hierarchy.”

“So you stranded yourselves.” Law’s flat tone left no room for interpretation about what he thought of that plan. At least he didn’t seem angry, just baffled.

“Y… yeah.”

“Because the other Marine really wanted to check on Starwhat-ya.” He didn’t audibly add a seriously? But Helmeppo could hear it in his voice.

“Pretty much.” Don’t back off, don’t back off, he’s scary but I don’t think he’s going to kill you for being an idiot.

The expression remained for another few long seconds, then Law let out a sigh that spoke to whole cargo ships full of baggage. “I guess your friend really is taking after him.”

Helmeppo was saved from answering when the ground under their feet suddenly dropped a couple inches. Both men clammed up, looking down. You’ve been through this once before, it’s going to be fine. But his abruptly hammering heart didn’t seem to believe his thoughts. He took a couple deep breaths, mind suddenly running over a bunch of questions he should have thought of before. Like if he should try to swim or just try to relax. Relax, right? If the goal was to push food from one island to another then-

You just thought of yourself as food. Garp would be laughing his ass off right now if he knew. And Coby would-

Everything dropped away and the lights went out again. He had just enough time to hope Law’s read on these interconnected islands was right, then the current hit them like a sea king and up and down lost all meaning.

One blessing -- with far fewer people being swept along, there was less running into people. The current actually swept him down the middle of the tunnel, it felt like. Either that or it was flushing them down into the depth of the ocean. There was no way to know.

Things actually seemed to be going right for once, until he was brought up short in the middle of the howling current. This time it felt like the back of his vest got snagged by something, yanking him to a halt in the middle of the rushing water as the strong fingers of the current yanked at his hair and clothes. He tried to reach back and untangle himself but the water pressure battered his hand away.

Maybe the stress of the day was getting to him, but his first thought was, How many times is this stupid island going to try to kill me?

He struggled once more to get at the snag, but it was high up and behind him. Seconds ticked by as his fingers crept up along the fabric, looking for the problem, only to eventually be brushed back by the immense current. After probably far too long, he switched plans -- If he couldn’t get to the snag, he needed to get out of the vest and leave it behind. How long had he been down here? As long as last time? His lungs were getting tired of all the stress.

His first absurd thought was to try to wriggle out of it, because that was how he put it on, but quickly he realized that wasn’t going to work. The current was limiting his movements too much. He couldn’t get a good angle, and it was exponentially harder to shed clothing under water. Something else, something else...

Giving up on the rest, he yanked the lady pirate’s knife out of his belt and slipped it under the bottom edge of the vest. The pressure from the continuing current pulled it nice and taut, and his body made a little pocket of calm in the tumult, so it only took a quick slash to cut it loose. The current yanked him free of the torn cloth, and on through the dark.

Come on current!

It yanked him along again. Helmeppo covered his head with his arms as he got swept away again, through the darkness. The other island had to be getting close, right?

But even as he thought this, the pressure shoving him along began to lighten up. The current slowed, then came to a stop and left him under the surface.

Honestly, it was starting to feel intentional at this point.

A glance up showed a ceiling of near darkness. The lilypad, and who knew how much crap on top of it. His best bet lay in the opening on the far end.

He just had to get there.

He began swimming along the tunnel, following the track by keeping an eye on the entwined plants that enclosed him. It had to lead to air. It wouldn’t just leave him off in the ocean. He had to believe that. Had to keep going. He pushed through the darkness, trying to ignore the fire in his chest and the shaking in his limbs. Just keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

And then the light was back.

Helmeppo made a sharp turn and pulled toward the glow with all his might. It swam in front of him, tantalizingly close, then there was air, sweet air, all around him. He got a hand on the edge and hauled, dragging himself into the open air with an incredible sense of deja vu. One more heave, and more-or-less solid ground at last lay beneath him. Helmeppo just lay there, relishing the sunlight and the solid ground and the air, sweet sweet air. That made three times this damned island had tried to drown him. Didn’t they say bad things came in threes? Maybe this would be the last one?

At last he rolled over and opened his eyes, then tried to get to his feet. Everything still felt unsteady though -- until a strong hand latched onto his right arm and hauled him upright. As he caught his balance, he looked over to find Law staring at him, that inscrutable expression he seemed to favor planted firmly on his face.

“Thanks,” Helmeppo said.

“Yeah.” Law released him and stepped back. “You have some terrible luck.”

“Yeah. Today’s not my day.”

“You good?”

“I’ll live. I-” He paused, then turned his head as a coughing fit took over. “Sorry. I thought you’d be gone though. Looking for the crew?”

“We’re still not sure what’s out there,” Law said dismissively. “So two might be better than one.”

His own words, coming back around. Having him around was barely better than Law being by himself, in this situation. He knew it. The wildness of this place was probably easy to overcome for most of the really strong folks here while Helmeppo had his hands full. But still. He appreciated the sentiment.

“Now where?”

“Just wait a moment. I thought I heard something.”

Helmeppo fell quiet, straining to both listen and to suppress further coughing. It took a few seconds, but then he heard it too.

A jumble of words came faintly on the wind from their right. Helmeppo understood all the words separately, but as a group, they didn’t really make sense. It ended in the word “star,” followed by a low whistling sound. A … shooting star?

A ways ahead of them, the foliage seemed to revolt, the leaves being pushed aside by what looked like massive … wolves? Made out of leaves? With bright red noses?

Sure. Why not. Weirdness followed everyone in the New World, but today’s particular measure of weirdness was officially all the way off Helmeppo’s personal chart. May as well accept it.

He was ready to give the whole area a wide berth, but Law turned toward it and started forward, his steps quickening. “Hey, wait!” the marine said, following after him. “Should we really-”

“Your captain will be with the Straw Hat captain, right?” Law asked, not looking back.

“Yes, but-”

“That was his sniper,” Law said. “He’ll know where Strawhat-ya is.”

“But we’re all the way out here and-”

“He’ll know where his captain is.” There was such utter certainty in his voice that Helmeppo felt like there had to be a story there. But there wasn’t time to ask.

Instead, his mind tried to wrap around the fact. “Haki?” he wondered aloud. Law didn’t answer, but he didn’t need an answer. As soon as he’d thought of it, it made perfect sense.

Coby’s use of the ability bordered on the uncanny, though it had come at a cost Helmeppo wouldn’t want to have to pay. Just thinking about it, he could feel the echoes of the terror that had fueled him, trying to drag his friend through the combat hellscape while Coby gasped and clawed and felt, felt everything. He hadn’t been able to understand what his friend was feeling or talking about at the time, he’d just been sure that Coby was just going to drop down and curl up one of those times and just … stop. Just shut down to hide from all the horror assaulting him, and there would have been nothing Helmeppo could do to bring him back.

As he followed Law through the undergrowth, he sincerely hoped the sniper had awakened his ability in a far less awful moment.

[forged-through-trials]

By the time the loot was sorted and stowed, we had just enough time to hit the shops before they closed. In “Borba’s Goods And Stores” I found the proprietor, “Borba gra-Uzgash”, and chatted her up while browsing her wares. Borba: “We’ve got everything the adventurer needs. I, myself, used to be an adventurer like you.” Trials: “...and then you took an arrow to the knee?” Borba: “Nope. Got busted for tax-evasion. It’s actually really hard to keep proper records as an adventurer. So I opened this shop, instead. Much easier to keep track of what I earn and what I owe.” Trials: “...oh, darn, I’m supposed to be keep track my earnings?” Borba: “Oh, yes, the Empire always gets theirs, eventually. “Listen, if you need some quick cash and don’t mind risky adventurer business, I got some hot tips on some likely spots to case.” Trials: “Oooohh! Lay it on me, lady.” Borba: “Just let me see your map.” I passed her my map, and she set some markers upon it. “Here we have ‘Rickety Mine’, out east along the Blue Road. ‘Kemen’ is an old Ayleid Ruin in the same direction. Quickwater Cave, to the North, is another option. I cleared it out, but I haven’t been there in years. It might have new tenants.” Trials: “Hey, thanks for the tips. Do I owe ya anything?” Borba: “Nah, just make sure that if you make any coin from those dives, spend it here. Otherwise, stay safe!” Ruin and I didn’t head back out right away. Instead, we retired to the Fighters Guild to get some sleep, and then embarked the following day, early in the morning.

Quickwater Cave wasn’t anything special. Just some animals, a few imps, and an Ogre. Ruin and I took care of them pretty quickly. The spoils were mostly the valuable animal/monster parts, though there were a few chests here and there to loot.

The day was still young, and we’d only just gotten started, so Ruin and I trekked East, looking for Rickety Mine and/or Kemen to fill our loot-quota. On the way, we were waylaid by goblins--which sounds really familiar all of a sudden. The Goblins were, themselves, a test of our skills and might, but we downed them quickly enough. All they’d succeeded in doing was to draw our attention to their lair, “Breakneck Lair.” I thought about what I knew of goblins, and what came to mind was the story of Thalonias, the Breton we met back in Weye. It struck me that the circumstances Ruin and I found ourselves in mirrored Thalonias’ tale of his caravan being ambushed... which made me realized, we must have found the lair of he goblins who’d waylaid him. We entered, and began clearing the place. Perhaps I should be more sympathetic to goblins, given their status of being considered vermin here in Cyrodiil. My own kind were little more than property back in Morrowind, so I know how much it sucks to be seen as beneath ‘civilized’ people. But as far as I’m concerned, these particular goblins are no better than bandits. They prey on the innocent, attacking anyone who nears their lair. As Ruin suggested, like bandits we should show them no quarter.

As we cleared, we spied a cage, with an Argonian in robes within. Wait... didn’t Thalonias mention something about that? The Argonian indeed introduced himself himself as “Elahai.” Amazing! He somehow survived, even as the goblins’ prisoner. Thalonias will surely be happy to hear his old friend made it after all. I pinched the key off of one of the Goblins we’d felled, so we were able to release Elahai. He thanked us, and departed quickly, eager to see his friend again. But ever dutiful, he asked me to find the shipping manifest and get it back to Thalonias, so he could assess what merchandise had survived the goblins.

That, I found in a nearby crate. Great, we have everything we need, so next time we’re in Weye, we can speak to Thalonias and get rewarded for this work.

Ruin and I continued to clear the lair, when at the bottom of the caves, we found... the goblins being commanded be a Daedra! A Dremora, in fine, heavy robes no less, was somehow the chieftain of these goblins. He commanded them fiercely, sending goblin berserkers after Ruin and I. Of course, we just dispatched them as they came at us, and quickly did in the Dremora, felling him with a few arrows. On the Dremora, I found a strange glowing orb, similar to the Sigil Stones I found with the Conjurers in Belda. Further, past the Dremora and his goblin guards, we found a door. It looked not unlike the doors that led into Aylied ruins. It was locked at first, but as I drew closer, the orb I’d plucked off of the Dremora began to glow, and I held it up to the door. The door hummed and strummed in time with the orb, and then clicked, opening before us.

Whoa! What in the heck did I just stumble on? A pond of lava, Ayleid constructions, and tons of Dremora. Ruin and I sniped our way through the Dremora hordes as we explored deeper into these ruins, crossing the small lake of fire, navigating twists and turns, while fighting our way through Daedra hordes one after another. And may I confess a guilty secret? After Mephala played me like a lute, it felt kind of good to lay these Daedra low. At least some Daedra will go screaming back to Oblivion knowing not to mess with Forged-Through-Trials!

Finally, we entered a room, rounded a corner, and found... a strange, translucent person in what looked like Elven Armor, dueling a group of Dremora. I helped, of course, sniping the Dremora from the shadows. Sure, I don’t know this guy from Talos, but he had beef with the Dremora who have been trying to kill me, and as they say, the enemy of my enemy sounds like a pretty cool dude in my book.

He approached me once the Dremora were down, confirming all suspicions that he was, in fact, a ghost, and not just a guy in a costume. Ayleid Ghost: “You... can... can it be? ...Are you the one... the one we have waited for? ...We have waited so long... so long...” Trials: “The one you’ve waited for?” Ruin: “You are... taking a face-to-face meeting with a ghost surprisingly well.” Trials: “Yeah, my old master used to summon his Ancestral Spirit to freak out his slaves and keep us in line. After a while, you get desensitized to the prescience of a ghost... however, expect me to scream like a hatchling with night-terrors the next time I sleep. Plug your ears, tonight.” Ruin: He grumbled. “Oh boy...” Ayleid Ghost: “...Can you save us... all of us... from the evil we have wrought? ...We have waited so long... we grow weak... you must be the one... you must be! “...Who are you? By what deeds can we know you?” Trials: “’Forged-Through-Trials.’ I’ve done many great works! Well, okay, a few, anyway. Some of them blow up in my face, but I have a decent track-record, all things considered.” Ayleid Ghost: “...you must be enough, then.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes, sure, any port in a storm, is that your attitude? “What’re you even talking about? ‘Enough’ for what?” Ayleid Ghost: “Forgive me, mortal. I... wander. I have been here... so long... ever-guarding. “...I was once king of this place... Kerrach... once the greatest of all Ayleid Cities... but now we are dead... in our ignorance... in our pride... dead, and slaves in death... All but I. “...Does our name live among the Ayleids still? Do any still know of our pride, our folly?” Ruin: “Apologies to bear such ill tidings, but the Ayleids died out long ago.” Alyeid Ghost: “...Alas for their fate... but better than what befell Kerrach... attend me... I shall tell you... tell you of Kerrach...” “...Mighty was our city... and many were our enemies... and ever did they come. Though our armies stood strong... and many of our foes bent the knee... more always came... “...And so we sought for allies... none mortal... none of our kind... but beyond the veil... Oblivion... We’d sought to bind the servants of Dagon to us... mighty magics we’d worked... a great portal opened... and then... in a moment, a twinkling... our great works... utterly undone. “Dead... in our ignorance... in our pride... we’d sought to bind beings greater than us... and in death, it is we who are bound... “Only I am left... and you... save us, champion... you must... give us peace once more...” With that, he gave me my task; to kill the “Valkynaz Sharkalz”--whatever that means. A name? A title? It’s all Nedic to me. But this person will have a gem on them, the “Heart of Kerrach,” which I’ll need to bring back to the Ghost here. In addition, I’ll need to restore their Sacred Well, and restore the statue of “El-Ataran,” both necessary to give the Ghost the juice necessary to undo the curse binding his people. I considered this request... the Ayleids were not nice people, from what I knew. They were, themselves, slavers. And the people of Kerrach seemed the worst of the lot. Even other Ayleids feared and hated them. But now, they were the slaves. And... I just can’t abide that. Isn’t a few thousands years in bondage penance enough for their crimes? I have the chance to free them, and I promise, right here, that I’ll never leave a slave oppressed if I can help it! So, I took the case! After all of that talking, I was admittedly quite nackered. Thankfully, there was a bedroll within the room, so Ruin and I were able to tuck in and get some rest before we continued our dive into the depths of this place. I slept fine, but I imagine all of the screaming from night-terrors about my old master’s Ancestral Ghost probably kept Ruin up.

A toppled pillar gave Ruin and I access to a walkway, which led to this scenic vista. The area was large and wide open, but that just made it all the easier to snipe the Dremora down from a distance. There were a lot of them, however, so sniping them down one by one took quite a while. Thankfully the lava lit this place up like an Evening Star tree, easily letting me spot my foes and clip them down. Once the road ahead of us was clear, we descended into the solid paths between the lava flows. In the center was an Ayleid Well, and I assume it was the Sacred Well the Ghost told me about. There were doors to the left and right, and ever sinestral, I chose the left-hand path. Next time I write, we will learn what lies beyond that door.

[kprciffdw]

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Part 17

They made their way through the long corridor, hurrying towards Ron as fast as they could. Along the way, they ran into Rufus. Kim: "Rufus! If you're here, then that means Ron can't be too far off."

He seemed panicky as he pointed towards another direction. Ratchet: "He seems to want us to follow him." Kim: "Lead the way, Rufus."

They followed Rufus through the corridor some more. They kept going until they stopped in front of something that displeased them a lot. They found Ron locked in a room containing a lot of monkeys, which he was running from while screaming a lot. They both found this to be awkward but Kim didn't seem surprised to see this. Ratchet: "Uh…you did tell me that Ron was afraid of monkeys, but…I had no idea that it was this bad." Kim: "Come on, Ratchet. We have to help him."

Kim ran off. Ratchet hesitated for a bit. Ratchet: "Um…OK…be right there."

He followed after her.

They worked together trying to get the door open, but Ratchet gave up and just blasted it open. Ron immediately ran out with all of the monkeys chasing him. Kim and Ratchet exchanged displeased looks with each other and went after them.

They ran past the monkeys, grabbed Ron and used their grappling items to reach a very high ledge. Rufus had a chance to reunite with Ron. Ron: "Rufus!"

Down below them, the monkeys eventually gave up, turned around and went the other way. Ron, relieved to finally be away from that panic fest, grabbed both Kim and Ratchet and embraced them closely in an emotional manner. Ron: "Oh! KP! Ratchet! Thank goodness you guys came for me! I thought I would never escape from those vicious beasts!"

Ratchet, annoyed, pushed Ron off of himself and Kim. Ratchet: "Will you calm down? They weren't that bad! I mean, geez, I had no idea your fear of those animals were that severe!"

Ron then became sad; Ratchet then grew less tense as he noticed this. Ratchet: "Come on, let's go find Clank."

Ratchet walked off with Kim. Ron stood by, hesitating. Ron: "But…but…Drakken said…he'll destroy Bueno Nacho if we were to…escape…HE'S GONNA DESTROY BUENO NACHO!" Kim: "Ron! Drakken is not going to destroy Bueno Nacho! Don't worry, I'll see to it that he doesn't. Now let's just keep going already."

They walked off with Ron following behind.

They kept on their way, fighting off more robots through another corridor. They were eventually able reach the hanger bay where they reunited with Clank. Ron: "Clank! Where have you been?" Ratchet: "Did you manage to run into your little friend?" Clank: "I do not know what you mean."

Ratchet smiled at him in a somewhat mocking manner. Kim and Ron were confused. Ron: "Uh…little friend?" Ratchet: "Oh, just an admirer of Clank's. She helped us to escape." Kim: "OK…so what now?"

They looked around for a bit. Just then, Ron noticed something. Ron: "Hey, Ratchet, is that your ship over there?"

Looked over and also noticed Ratchet's ship, encased in a force field. Ratchet: "Dang it! They impounded my ship!" Ron: "Really? It doesn't look like it was flattened to me." Kim: "No, Ron, impound means to take something and encase it. You know, as in confiscating?" Ron: "Oh, right. Wait! If the ship is encased in that force field, then that means…aw, man! We're still stuck here!" Ratchet: "Yeah, obviously we are, Ron!" Clank: "We are going to need to deactivate that force field if we ever hope to leave this place, unfortunately. How we are able to do that, I am unsure." Ron: "So how will we?" Kim: "Hm…"

She pulled out the Kimmunicator. Kim: "Wade, come in." Wade: "Kim? Thank goodness you're OK! I was worried about you! Where are you guys now?" Kim: "We're aboard the flying lab that Ratchet and I were on during the start of this mission. It's been taken over by Thugs-4-Less and converted into a prison. We were a few of its prisoners." Ron: "Uh, were?" Kim: "Oh and the Thugs-4-Less were bought out by Drakken, who is now working with Mr. Fizzwidget and Megacorp." Wade: "Wow, the bad news just keeps piling up." Ratchet: "Tell us something we don't know, Wade." Wade: "Well, if you guys are hoping to hear some good news, then you're in luck. I have been working on a few new gadgets that may help you guys out. Ratchet, I've looked into upgrading your wrench. I was researching the one that you lent to me and have found that I can incorporate a stronger, denser metal. I will need to have you send your other wrench so I can look into that in exchange for your old wrench." Ratchet: "Um, OK, I can do that."

Wade's vendor reappeared; Ratchet placed his current wrench into the vendor. It was swapped out for his old wrench. He pulled it out of the vendor. Wade looked into the other wrench. Wade: "Hm… interesting, the metal from this wrench is surprisingly more durable. But the molecular structure seems a lot more advanced. I'll need to research on this some more. In the meantime, I should tell you about the modifications that I have done with your old wrench. It should be much stronger than it was before. You'll notice it once you actually start using it. I think you'll be impressed by the results." Ratchet: "I'll take your word for it. Thanks again, Wade, you rock."

Wade smiled. Kim: "So, Wade, any indications on where Drakken and Shego could be? They stole that container with all of the shuttle pieces that I've collected." Wade: "What? They've stolen every single piece of that space shuttle that we've collected!? Why didn't you tell me sooner!?" Kim: "Because finding Ron was more important at the time. Besides, I'm not worried about finding those 2; we can handle that just fine." Wade: "Well…I wouldn't be too sure about that. I can't seem to find Shego anywhere, although I am able to pinpoint that Drakken is still on the large vessel." Ratchet: "Let's go find him!" Kim: "Point us in the right direction." Wade: "He's due North. Take the first door on the left." Kim: "Got it! Let's go."

They rushed towards that door as fast as they could and ran in.

They arrived within another corridor and navigated themselves through. They faced off against more robots; however, there was something different about them. Kim: "Hm…the designs of these robots seem familiar…could they be some of Drakken's designs?" Ron: "I would think so; they look a lot like the kind that we have faced off against many times in the past."

Along the way, they ran into Lilo and Stitch. Ratchet: "Lilo? Stitch? What are you doing here? No, wait, don't tell me, you're looking for another one of your Experiments, aren't you?" Lilo: "Yep, that's exactly right." Stitch: "Ih!" Lilo: "But we just lost sight of it, maybe you can help us find it?" Kim: "Sure. Perhaps we can help each other out again." Lilo: "Sounds good to me." Stitch: "Okie-taka!"

Just then, they heard a loud crashing noise. Ratchet: "What was that!?" Kim: "It sounded like it came from behind that door!" Ratchet: "Let's go."

They rushed through the nearby door almost immediately. When they ran through, they were shocked to find that the corridor had its floors completely destroyed, crumbling into a large lava pit below. They looked outward and spotted Drakken on another hover vehicle, laughing maniacally. He became startled immediately after spotting them. Stitch: "(growl) Drakken!"

Drakken flew off on his vehicle. Ratchet: "Come on, we can't let him get away!"

Kim and Ratchet, with the use of their flying equipment, flew across the lava pit while carrying Ron and Lilo. Stitch crawled on the walls. They made their chase with Drakken as they flew through the corridor. He made many attempts to lose them with a few devices such as explosives and even tossed out some of his own robots at them, but they didn't stop them. They fought him as they chased him down. Stitch sometimes jumped into his vehicle and lashed out at him in a vicious manner, but Drakken would sometimes toss him out, with him either latching back on the walls or being caught by Kim or Ratchet or sometimes even both. They were eventually able to bring him down. His flying vehicle fell near the very end of the corridor where he jumped out of his it, it fell into the lava pit. He was able to land on some of the flooring that hadn't been blown up. Ratchet and the others caught up to him and eventually cornered him. Ratchet: "End of the line, Drakken! There's no where left to run!" Clank: "Please hand over the pieces of Dr. Possible's space shuttle that you have taken from Miss Possible and you will not be harmed." Drakken: "(groan) Fine!"

He pulled out the container and tossed it towards Kim. Drakken: "Take it!"

Kim was able to catch it with ease. Drakken: "It won't matter, anyway. The last of my plans are nearly complete. Soon, I will unlock all of the secrets of the Impossible Space Station of the Future and then all of Earth will bow down before the might of Dr. Drakken!" Lilo: "Not if we have anything to say about it, you bad man!"

Just then, they heard something blast through a nearby door. Stepping out from it was Shego. Drakken: "There you are! What took you so long to get here?" Shego: "Sorry, I was getting the few final materials from that geezer. I don't even know how Mr. Brainless and Senile is even able to run such a large corporation the way he is. He makes you look like an actual genius." Drakken: "Let's just get back to the ISSF already, Shego." Shego: "Fine with me."

She then summoned a huge amount of energy from her hands then tossed it on the ground, creating a huge flash that blinded everyone. Drakken: "(laugh) Farewell, Kim Possible! The next time we meet, the Earth shall be mine!"

When the flash had subsided, Drakken and Shego were already gone. Ratchet: "(growl) They got away again." Kim: "Don't worry, we'll get them. I'll see to it that they won't succeed on their plans."

Soon enough, they arrived within a small room. Ratchet: "Thanks for helping us out with chasing down that Drakken, guys." Lilo: "No need to thank us; the pleasure was all ours." Stitch: "Ih!" Clank: "By the way, how is it that you know that horrible brute?" Lilo: "A while back, Drakken snatched away Stitch because he was asked to do it by our enemy, Dr. Hamsterviel." Kim: "I remember that. It was another mission that Ron and I were called into." Ratchet: "Is that how you met Lilo and Stitch?" Kim: "Yep, that's exactly right." Lilo: "Kim and I were able to rescue Stitch from that horrible man and green lady." Stitch: "Ih! Drakken did bad things to Stitch, so Stitch wanted to get even." Ratchet: "Huh, glad to hear that we share the same resentment with that guy. (laugh)"

Suddenly, he started shivering. Ratchet: "Did it just get cold in here?" Kim: "(shivering) I'm…I'm st-st-st-starting to f-f-feel it, t-too." Ron: "(shivering) Wh-wh-what is g-g-going on here?" Clank: "(shivering) M-m-m-m-maybe the cl-cl-climate c-controls on this sh-sh-sh-sh-ship is mal-malfunctioning…"

Kim then spotted something. Kim: "Hey! Look!"

They looked up and spotted another strange creature. Lilo: "It…it's e-e-experiment 012! No-no wonder it got c-cold in here." Kim: "Let me handle this."

She pulled out another containment field and tossed it at the Experiment, containing it completely. The room warmed up as the Experiment was pulled towards them. Everyone stopped shivering. Ratchet: "Ah…that's better." Lilo: "Mahalo again, you guys. I think I would like to give something to you in return for getting that Experiment for us."

Lilo pulled out another monitor and held it out. Lilo: "Stitch and I found this while we were looking for that Experiment."

The screen showed Angela trying to provide them with intel while hiding on a Thugs-4-Less fleet, but was found and caught by the Thug Leader. She was pulled away while he taunted the group. Ratchet: "Whoa! Did you guys see that?" Clank: "Yes, I did. It seems as though Angela has some very important intel on the Protopets." Ratchet: "And we have to rescue her from the Thugs!" Kim: "I agree. She seems to be in a lot of trouble and who knows what they'll do to her?" Ratchet: "Exactly!"

Ron chuckled a little. Ron: "Did you see how that Thug guy fell for her cat impression for a second there? What a bonehead." Kim: "Huh, that isn't any surprise to me at all." Clank: "I will upload the coordinates." Lilo: "Stitch and I would love to help you guys save that girl, but we still need to look for more of Stitch's cousins." Ratchet: "It's OK, we'll take care of it from here. Thanks again for helping us out, Lilo. You, too, Stitch." Lilo: "We hope to see you guys again." Stitch: "Ih! Goodbye and Aga Chaba!"

Lilo and Stitch left with the Experiment. At that moment, the Kimmunicator went off. Kim pulled it out. Wade: "Kim, I've noticed that you got the ship parts that you have collected back from Drakken." Kim: "Yep, we did, but we still have a problem. The Thugs-4-Less impounded Ratchet's ship when they incarcerated us and it's now contained within a force field." Wade: "Don't worry, I've already figure out how to shut that force field down. I've been picking up energy readings of the force field emanating from within the room that you're in. Perhaps there's a switch to deactivate it."

Ron looked around the room for a bit. Ron: "Hm…you know? This place is pretty sweet. I wonder how they…"He then tripped and fell on a switch, which deactivated the force field. Kim, Ratchet and Clank immediately took notice of this, then looked at Ron. Ratchet: "Hm, nicely done, Ron. You've shut down that force field. Not exactly how I would have wanted it to be done, but I'm not complaining." Kim: "Yes! We can finally get out of here!" Ratchet: "Yeah. Come on, let's go."

They rushed towards the ship, got in, then took off and flew away.

[borrowedbackpack]

Oh Boy

You’re in luck, my dudes. Today was a trip (in both the literal and figurative senses). It began in typical, calm, Moroccan fashion, with me sunning myself on a rooftop while eating that day’s combination of free hostel carbs (today = round spongey Moroccan pancake thing, square flakey Moroccan pancake thing, and puffy round Moroccan pastry thing with sesame seeds. All dipped in orangey syrupy stuff, of course). This gave me the fuel to strap the NBF onto my back and my Kånken onto my front and make my way to the bus stop. I navigated around the various horses, donkeys, motorbikes, etc clogging the narrow streets with ease and not so much as a second glance, because I’m one with the ‘kech at this point. I arrived at the bus stop, got out my quatre dirham, and waited a couple minutes until my bus showed up (trick for remembering my bus = I go on the one that says “Doha”, which I think is just the greatest, as it implies that if I stay on that bus long enough, I’ll end up in Doha. It’s probably better in my head). Good news, this is where the Travel Troubles began! For some reason, we weren’t allowed to get on the bus! We all just stood there for a long time and looked at it. The driver disappeared. Someone came and explained something to us in Arabic. A lot of people got annoyed and moved on to their plan B. But guess what? I didn’t have a plan B. It was Doha or bust. 

Finally our bus driver returned and told us some Arabic stuff. I nodded. Then dude drove off! So I paced and prayed a little. This worked, and he eventually returned! So then we all pushed and shoved our ways on to the bus and went on our merry way. I pushed and shoved my way off the bus when we got to the train station (riding super crowded city buses with the NBF is not the easiest), waited around a bit, and got on my bus to Essaouira with no further problems. It was a nice, comfy, cool bus, and I saw lots of neato things from the window, such as the Atlas Mountains, guys herding their sheep about the desert, palm trees, flowers, argan trees, a whole bunch of goats in a tree (for real), a lot of donkeys, the shiniest horse ever (looked like girl had been hitting the argan hard), and one (1) camel. We even got to stop in a pleasant little town for a bit, which was nice.

So then we roll up in Essaouria and I’m feeling cool, calm, and collected (I can’t imagine why, sounds like someone’s getting a little too cocky for their own good). I retrieve the NBF from under the bus, where she’s been resting. I locate a WC, which apparently costs 1dh to use (if you know me you know I hate this paying for bathrooms shit more than all other Travel Troubles combined). Anyways, I couldn’t locate any small change so I give up and give the gal a euro cause I really have to pee (I think a euro = 10dh, so yeah, you could say I’m a baller). Then I had to do my favourite Moroccan activity, aka looking for a working atm. First two I tried were no bueno, and at this point I was getting a teeny bit stressed, because, in the event of me locating my hostel, I was going to have to give them money in exchange for a bed. I think that’s how these things work, anyways. “That’s okay” I said out loud “it’s not like I need money to trade for goods and services anyways”. Then I tried to cross the street, my other favourite Moroccan activity. I was half way through the street when some dude came running up to me and tried to make me take his dumb taxi. I did not appreciate this, but luckily it gave me someone to take my atm rage out on. “Hey!” I yelled “Can I just cross the fucking street?!” (I added a quiet “please” to the end cause I’m not an animal). This worked, apparently, cause I was allowed to pass.

Finally I found an atm that seemed to be working. Sadly, it just kept spitting out money at me and wouldn’t stop, even though I only wanted 500dh. So now I’m rich, by Morrocan standards anyways. All moneyed up, I started walking around looking for my dumb hostel. Good news, street names don’t exist here either. After what seemed like a really long time, I was more than willing to follow a rando stranger, so when some hot Morrocan dude asked me if I needed something, I was like yeah man, please help me. And he did! He also didn’t know where the heck this place was, but this didn’t stop him from trying. Dude was determined. We walked and walked, and he consulted all his buddies along the way. Eventually, after a very long time, a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, and a lot of making new friends, we turned down a dark, creepy alleyway and there it was (not really though, we walked past it a couple times first cause signs aren’t a thing here). My new friend and I were jubilant as hell. We high fived and cheered. Thanks dude, I owe you my life.* Also, now everyone in my quartier knows me as the Confused White Girl. So now every time I leave my hostel a minimum of 5 people ask me if I’m okay and remind me of my directions.

*no but actually, I guarantee I would’ve been completely effed without this guy. Not even being dramatic. Like I never ever in 10 million years would’ve found this place. Morocco is hard. Urban planning is not a thing here.

Good news though, my hostel’s really nice and chill and hippie-ish. I’ve even scoped out the roof scene (seems suitable for eating carbs upon, and maybe even reading if things get crazy). It seems nice here, if a little windy (windy city of North Africa yo), and I’m sure things will drastically improve once I find Anna the Advanced Travel Navigator again (I was so desperate today to find my way that I tried using a compass. In 2018. Imagine. Next thing you know I won’t be leaving the house without a gd sextant).

[sending-the-message]

I've been wandering through Aokigahara Forest, where bodies hang all year long by Ra1n_Walker

Hi guys. This is going to be long, because I'll just be as thorough as possible. I don't think leaving out details will contribute to the story, so bear with me. Or don't… I was wondering how many of you are aware of the existence of this forest. The Sea of Trees, as they like to call it, or, on a less brighter note; Suicide Forest.

I have a mildly unhealthy obsession for the obscure and unsolved mysteries, which often leads me to venture to lost and forgotten places. Abandoned asylums, hotels, evil looking buildings. I love to scour the internet for strange occurences and events that seem to involve anything going from ghosts to murderers or aliens. People will believe anything to feel excitement.

I wouldn't call myself a believer. In fact, I think it's funny how people can get all serious and worked up about some weird theory that sounds creepy, but has not the slightest proof or link to a plausible explanation. What I do believe in is that people have a tendency to do some really fucked up things. Guess everyone knows to what extent, but the real atrocities are preferably kept a bit further in our daily lives and rather not thought of.

It litterally turns me on. I can get goosebumps hearing about gruesome scenes, imagining someone's pain or finding truly disturbing things. The 'this-song-makes-me-wanna-cry' type of goosebumps. I can't ever get enough. So I heard of this forest and read about it on the web. Reddit also has some accounts on this and there's even a few movies based on its reputation and stories (which I haven't seen yet as I don't want to ruin the experience) so it really isn't hard getting a bit educated about it. I had to fricking go there.

So that was that, and I was off to Japan only about a month later. I always thought Mount Fuji might be worth seeing and I definitely had a strong passion for the Japanese culture. And their anime and manga, obviously. Being on a plane towards my long awaited destination, I had enough time to go through the available information and read up on the forest. I probably read it all already, being the special person that I am, but it amused me. 

It definitely was a cool mystery anyway. The 'facts' were often disturbing and the assumptions made around the place were even more so. There's a few of those that really stuck with me that I think are thought provoking or at the very least interesting. I read about a lot of aspects. Locals would believe they could pin point the exact type of visitor to the woods.

There were the ones trying to snap pictures of Mount Fuji and its impressive base and flora around it. Some would go in there and hope to find something dark or scary. Thrillseekers if you will. And then there's the obvious type, the type that make the forest famous; the suicidals that don't plan on coming back out. What the fuck

The thing that struck me when I first heard about it is that it would have to be littered with corpses, seeing as over 75 people were found every year. Most of them hanged. They even reached over a hundred victims a few years back and decided to stop reveiling numbers to avoid making it more popular, thus resulting in more suicides. So yeah, there's a fricking cleanup crew. Every year locals search the forest for bodies or what's left of them.

According to what I'd read, they would drag decomposed bodies or parts of them, skeletons and personal belongings scattered around the sea of trees back to some kind of room where they'd store them. There's accounts of people staying in a room with the bodies, because according to local folklore, it would mean bad luck to leave those  alone.

I landed after a long flight and needed a good night's rest. I always admired people who were able to sleep on a plane, I was too nervous to achieve that. I'd never been too keen on flying and this time was no different. It felt good to get out of that bird. I called a cab and made my way to my hotel, about an hour drive from Shizuoka airport. I would've loved to chat with the driver and learn more than I already knew, but guess what. The dude didn't speak one word of English. 

"Yessir."

Good talk...

I dozed off in the car, face against the window and coat over my head to block out the light of the evening that still shone bright. When I woke up, the cab had stopped and I was in... Shimizu? My Japanese was about as good as the cab driver's English, so I didn't bother even trying to ask. I got out, stepped inside the hotel and was pointed to my room. I stayed there the whole evening to fall asleep quickly. Next day; alarm at 6am, breakfast with some documents and brochures to re-check my way to Aokigahara and what to look out for.

After speaking with the hotel clerk, whose English was good enough to be able to make out key words. It only took me half an hour before being on a train towards Mount Fuji. Shizuoka airport was about 80 miles from Aokigahara  and I was about half way going from where I was right then. An hour drive before getting there and I had to walk quite a bit before arriving at the area I was trying to get to, after even taking an extra bus.

And that's when I finally got to the place I had been looking forward to for the last weeks. I had Mount Fuji looking over me from the distance, like a titan contemplating the world beneath, and the forest of Aokigahara in front of me. The Sea of Trees. Suicide Forest... I was standing at the beginning of a path that lead into the woods. The path seemed to be an easy one to follow, it was clearly maintained regularly and countless footsteps were printed in the slightly muddy trail. Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, I took off hoping for adventure.

The path continued for much further than I had imagined and started twisting and turning the more I got into the forest. I knew it stretched about 13 miles and I wasn't helpless at all when it comes to navigating. I know how to use a compass and I have a good sense of awareness, so I never worried once. I just thought it was a bit weird that people tried to maintain this, as if they were trying to shake the woods' reputation and attract more tourists and less suicidals.

I have to say, after an hour or so, my surroundings felt a bit darker, a bit scarier if you will. One of the reasons for this is that there were multiple ways to go from the main trail. Dozens of paths leading deeper through the trees that were everywhere. I mean it's a forest, but goddamn this forest was dense. A lot of those paths were marked with a sign or a carving in a tree. Messages saying things I couldn't read, others in English saying life is precious and I shouldn't give in, a plea to return to the town and talk to someone... They really tried hard to stop you from killing yourself. Those signs were well intended, but I couldn't help thinking this shit was spooky and so out of place.

Honestly, it was creepy, but nothing I couldn't handle and definitely not enough to satisfy my need for excitement and adventure. I noticed more turns and twists in the trail I was following and I looked behind me on a few occasions just to make sure I kept my bearings. Plus, I was slowly getting a bit paranoid. The forest got darker the more I ventured in and I thought I heard footsteps every so often. Don't get me wrong, I love this. But yeah, shit gets scary when you go looking for it.

At one point, I decided I'd take a break and drink some water while checking the compass, just to be sure. And of course, my compass was acting up and desperately looking for north, while I looked at it and sighed. No biggie, I just have to turn around and follow the trail back, should I want to leave. Problem is, I turned around to find myself standing on an intersection. I had three possible directions to go and I doubted a little when wondering which one I came from. I couldn't remember seeing any paths starting from the one I was walking until then and I felt a lot less confident all of a sudden.

Shit

I was used to the feeling of panic rising and that was also part of the thrill I wanted to find every time I went looking for it. So I took some time to take in my surroundings and thought about what to do now. I hadn't seen anything really exciting so far and I was slowly doubting to go back. But the day wasn't over and I was dedicated to my trip. So I looked up to see if I could see the sun's position and nearly screamed like a girl. The foliage was way too dense to see through, only a small amount of light pierced through the canopy. But hanging practically right above me was a little girl, eyes missing and legs bitten off to the knees. Her head was hanging down rested on her chest and I gagged.

I jumped back and fell down, tripping over and hurting my wrist in the process. I cursed at myself while looking at the grim scene before me, but I can't say I wasn't excited. THIS was the thrill I liked and I was proud of myself for getting where I was trying to get, the small border between adrenaline and madness or insanity. But when you're looking at a dead body of a hanged little girl, there's some things you don't expect/want to happen, because you might just get a heart attack like I almost did.

"Hoshi."

Guys. No shit. I sharted then and there and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. It was the voice of a little girl that sounded like she was playing with her dolls or having an imaginary tea-party. Except she was having it in the middle of a dark forest all alone with a dead girl as a view... It came from right behind me and I turned around with eyes wide open and a scream ready to escape my mouth. There was no one there and I started to feel watched and incredibly nervous. I could hear rustling from behind me and I prayed. I wasn't superstitious, but I think I knew what was coming. I turned around and felt myself turn pale.

"We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

The girl was still hanging in the trees when she said it and her empty eye sockets seemed to be shimmering in the dim light. Her mouth didn't move, but her head was straight up and looking forward, completely immobile. It was the most unsettling thing I'd ever experienced and I honestly stood there nailed to the ground, unable to think or move. I didn't understand the first word I heard coming from behind me, but what she was repeating now was so chaotic and abnormal that it scared the living shit out of me.

I stepped back even more and rubbed my eyes, hoping I was dreaming (which I definitely wasn't) and I tried to set my mind straight.

""We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

This time it was MUCH louder and coming from much closer and I felt my heart pumping in my head, scared to open my eyes. When I did, I could've cried. The girl was now standing a few feet in front of me, pieces of flesh dragging behind her while her legs, or what was left of them, carried her lifeless body towards me. Saying the same thing over and over again with the rope still tied around her neck, tight.

I stood there watching her, never blinking. She was really frightening with her deep empty eye sockets, her mutilated body and the fact that she was so little. Despite all of that, the sensation of fear and the desire to run became less urgent. I started feeling more sad than scared. A girl that age committing suicide was just above me, it blew my mind and I couldn't shake the feeling this was wrong. Well, of course it was, but isn't it more than just weird to see such a young child here? I looked up and saw the rope going from her neck towards the canopy and realized what was bothering me that much. How the fucking fuck does that rope even get there.

Not kidding, the trees were high. Like, really high. You'd have to use machinery to get all the way up or be a damn good climber and I couldn't for the life of me picture this kid doing that. It was so high up I couldn't even exactly see where it was attached and when I looked back at her, she was holding out her hand as to motion me to grab it. I reluctently took a step forward and held out my hand, watching her getting closer.

Before I continue; what would you do?

Seriously. I'm nearly 30 years old, I'm the biggest horror fan I can think of and I have a tendency to question everything that doesn't have a reasonable explanation. So, what would you do?

I stood there watching her as she stopped in place and looked right back at me with those black, hollow eyes. Despite the obvious fucked-upness of the whole situation, I just couldn't shake the feeling I was having. Unable to explain it, I'd have to go with sheer empathy… This girl had to be, what? Six? Seven years old? I'm not a pro, so ten probably would've done it as well, but you get it. No kid this young should be thinking about suicide, nor should a girl this young be here in a forest so dark and dense you can't hear any birds or other animals. I only heard the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves as I looked at the first person I encountered in these woods; a girl that was so young and looked so innocent that I got sick thinking about the undeniable fact she was here. In these woods that carried its name so clearly and casually, forgotten forever.

"Hoshi."

That word snapped me back to my senses instantly and made me feel like I lost something that I never had. Who the fuck leaves a kid in here, or who the fucking fuck makes a kid feel so bad that it makes her ending up here with a rope around its neck in the Aokigahara forest? Or where the fuck ever. So I don't know what you would do, but tears were almost running down my face when I practically lunged forward and grabbed her hand as firmly as I could.

I guess the world stopped

I was somewhere else, feeling like someone else and thinking like someone else. I was afraid.

If only…

I was scared as I had never been before. The world around me was pitch black and I couldn't hear anything but my frantic screams and the drumming of my blood pumping in my brain, making me feel like I was going to explode. The feeling I had persisted until a loud bang made me jump up and nearly gave me a heart attack.

My blindfold was taken away and the light that attacked my face stung like a thousand wasps. The smack on my jaw made sure I wasn't distracted by the stinging of the air in my nostrils and also made me open my burning blue eyes to watch what was causing me to feel like this.

The guy I was watching looked far too happy to be sane.

I was sitting down in a corner of a room, hands tied behind my back to a chain that was attached to a radiator, the only thing in the room besides me. My wrists were on fire and I saw my little feet twisting in front of me as I cowarded backwards against the wall, trying to escape his filthy hands. The knife in his right hand was all the more threatening when he grabbed my neck with his left and started applying pressure.

Panic, fear, anger, loss, despair. Those are but a fraction of the emotions flooding me at that time and I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe the rest of them. As if the lack of oxygen wasn't enough, the pressure on my neck felt like it was going to make it snap and the fact that my legs were everywhere and arms flailing made sure to make me lose all hope. The world went dark with the last image of a lunatic smiling at me as I drew my last breath.

Then I woke up

I was in the middle of the forest at an intersection and it didn't take me more than a few seconds to realize I was right where I was before I started dreaming. Panicked, I turned to look around me and above me, only to see I was alone in the woods. But the fucking rope was there. Right in front of me, where the girl had been standing, there was a rope on the ground heading deeper into the woods.

Safe to say everything was already fucked up and I didn't even think straight when I bent over to grab it and started following it into the forest.

Stay. The fuck. Out of there.

Guys, I followed it and walked for an hour (approximately) and from the very first minute I was surrounded by a sea. Not of trees, but bodies. Kids hanging from trees, some mutilated, some unharmed as if they were sleeping. Others decomposed to almost nothing but bones, fallen down as their ropes were still ominously hanging from the invisible canopy… it kept going for as long as I was. When I got to the end of the rope and thought I'd shed every tear and consumed all the fear that was hidden inside me, I was standing in the middle of a clearing and looking at a guy.

An asian guy standing by some kind of enormous plastic bag and hoisting something up in the trees with a rope. I started shivering and I felt like all power was taken away from me when I saw an arm sticking out if the bag. The boy he was hanging couldn't have been older than five and the fact I was watching this as if I'd be watching a street musician suddenly put me in a mood I hadn't yet been in.

Tears running down my face and legs unable to take a step in whatever direction, I felt a hand grabbing a hold of mine. The little girl, the one I could watch now without being scared, the one that showed me and asked for help was standing next to me. Although they were blue, she didn't have eyes, but her smile was worth a thousand words.

What happened next took five minutes at the most.

I anonymously notified the police when I found my way back out of the forest almost a full day later and I went back home immediately. I know that nobody there likes to talk about the reputation of the forest and I know that other things have been covered up, so I have no way of knowing what happened or if anything got done.

Don't fucking touch children, because I might be the last thing you see. I looked up what she said -hoshi- and I guess she meant hoshii… I'm not Japanese so I might be wrong, but I believe she wanted/needed someone to help her

[whitefurtales]

A Fox In The Trees

Why do they have to live so high up? And would it have killed them to build stairs?

The tree wasn’t terribly difficult to scale, despite its sheer size. The bark made for effective footholds and Ahri was no stranger to navigating all manner of wild lands. 

And it would be worth it, the Shimon cultivate the most delicious fruits, and they are masters of preserving it.

Okay, so they don’t like strangers. But they also don’t like fighting.

“Hyup!” Ahri leapt from one tree to another, one more dense with vines and handholds. Above her, the wood became more intentional. Platforms constructed to hold homes.

Worst that’s gonna happen is awkward silences.

Oh, Gods.

I hate awkward silences.

“Hya!” Another leap! This time she manages to reach a lower platform. Some kind of hanging garden. The sweet scent of flowers is motivation enough to pull herself up, much to the surprise of the young shimon gardener, who clutches her watering can to her chest.

“O-Oh!” Her fur stood on end and she held all her limbs close. Even though the shimon’s tail held a pair of garden sheers, it didn’t occur to the woman to threaten Ahri.

“Hi,” Ahri pants, “Give me a moment,” And doubles over, hands on her knees and catching her breath.

Ahri was not given a moment. She didn’t look up, but she heard the shimon woman jump away and swing across higher branches. Presumably to alert the rest of the village about the Fox’s arrival.

“... Okay then,” Ahri simply brushes herself off, wiggles her tail, and climbs the steps of the garden to a more open area of the village.

Oh, so they do have stairs. Just not for anyone trying to get up.

Much to Ahri’s dismay, an awkward silence did follow her. The presence of an other quite unusual.

Maybe if I was a bird... They probably see more birds than foxes...

“Hey, does anyone know where the market is? Do you have a market?” Ahri calls out to no one imparticular. None of the crowd looked like decision makers, word was still taking its time spreading through the treetops.

So they were compliant and quietly pointed her in the right direction.

She was happy to hear the bustling sounds of exchanging goods - and then unhappy to hear it murmur out as one by one the trading shimons noticed her.

Except one.

Despite his mouth full of food, he was loudly detailing some sort of fight or adventure.

“And so I said ‘YOU STAY THERE, I GOT THIS’ and span around, swinging my staff. Each of the five bandits went down one by one!”

... He hasn’t noticed me.

Ahri frowns.

The group this brash shimon was boasting to, however, certainly did notice Ahri. 

“Hey, did you hear--? In one awesome spin-move I--” And then he too noticed what they noticed.

He didn’t wait to spring into action, launching himself into the air, using his staff as a pole vault, and absolutely sticking the landing right in front of Ahri, “Hey there, foxy lady.”

He might be trouble.

“It is a relief to meet someone who isn’t so... Nervous,” Ahri’s voice was that of utmost confidence, and her eyes suddenly fill with a glimmer of promise. Their usual shade shifted into a pink hue and--

Bop! The shimon immediately flicks Ahri’s nose and scolds, “That’s cheating.”

Ahri winces, shakes her head and snaps, “Hey! That hurt!”

“My name’s Wukong, by the way. Might’ve heard of me,” Quite relaxed, he looks Ahri up and down. Counts her tails and purses his lips, “How’d you get up here? Oh man, did you climb!?”

“You flicked my nose!” Ahri ignores the question. She’d never been so caught off-guard.

“You tried to mind control me,” Wukong retorted, pointing at her and fixing her with a disapproving gaze. A gaze that glances downwards. Just for less than a second. Maybe an entire second. Becomes less disapproving.

“Ugh,” Ahri pouts and crosses her arms over her chest, “So you’ve heard of me.”

“Unless there are any other nine-tailed foxes,” Wukong suggests casually, “These guys probably haven’t,” He gestured to the nervous crowd, “But I get out a bit more. Travel a lot. Kind of a big deal, actually. They’re pretty lucky I’m here, actually. Y’know, to protect them.”

He’s trouble.

“Protect them?” Ahri asks, almost innocently. She has finally composed herself, and now her hands are on her hips and her pose is expertly showing off all the womanly curves without trying too hard.

“The whole soul swallowing, memory thief thing. I’d have thought you’d look way older, by the way. But this makes sense actually.”

“I’m not--” Ahri starts to protest, “That’s not why I’m here. I’m just passing through.”

Slowly, the crowd begins to lose interest. Though the surrounding shimon are still cautious.

“You realize how that sounds, right? Climbing all this way to pass through?” Wukong grins.

“The fruit,” Ahri explains, “I’ve heard of it, and I wanted to try it.”

“Ooooh, well that makes sense. You coulda just said so,” Wukong rolls his eyes. He leans over and - with his tail - plucks a basket from a nearby market stall. He winks at the owner and seems to silently promise some form of payment, “Let’s go somewhere less... Populated by people I’ve sworn to keep safe.”

Ahri resents the implication, but it wasn’t an offer that provided many choices.

And besides;

He’s certainly an interesting one.

A short while later and Wukong is laughing as Ahri clumsily attempts to climb the more difficult branches above the shimon village. He’s sitting comfortably, the basket of fruit hung above, watching the show.

“Why did you pick this spot?” Ahri huffs as she heaves herself up a thick branch.

“I wanted to see how you climb with those...” Wukong waggles his eyebrows and cups his own chest, “Not very well, I guess!”

“Hey! I got up here, didn’t I?” Ahri pouts. She’s not quite on the same level as Wukong but decides it will do for now. At least her tails make for nice cushions.

“True, true,” Wukong nods, munching down on a deliciously pink and round fruit - and with great dexterity, he tosses Ahri a similar fruit with his foot, “So where are you going?”

“Hm?” Ahri asks with her mouth full.

Oh my gosh this is the sweetest most delicious thing.

“You said we were passing through. Where to? Is it far? Oh! What is it like up north? I heard magic gets pretty crazy there. Which would probably explain you.”

“Oh. A city,” Ahri smiles, Wukong’s own grin is infectious, “Very far from here.”

“The Placidium? I’ve always wanted to go. You meet many humans? I mostly just see bandits, and they’re all kind of different types of asshole.”

“Not the Placidium,” Ahri giggles, “Further than that. With buildings taller than these trees...”

Wukong’s eyes widen, “No way!”

Ahri nods sincerely, “Buildings of steel and strange glowing lights. Far and away, over the sea. That is where I am going, to see it for myself.”

“Woah...” Wukong looks up at the sky through the leaves, it’s hard to imagine being any closer, “Hey, is it true you eat hearts?”

Ahri coughs, blinks and wipes her mouth, “What?”

“That’s one of the big stories,” Wukong shrugs. If he had any immediate judgement, he kept it quiet.

“Ugh. One time! And he deserved it. And it was kind of gross.”

“What!? Oh my -- That’s --”

“It was one time! And I was young! It was in the heat of the moment!” Ahri huffs and puffs trying to defend herself.

“Oh yeah, I totally understand! This one time I was fighting this real mean bandit, and suddenly his foot was in my mouth! And I-- And I swallowed his toes! I dunno how that happened!” Wukong barks out his laughter, holding his stomach.

Ahri just growls in frustration and flops backwards onto the branch.

Wukong is just the worst.

The evening wasn’t quite fading, but it was getting close. 

“Sure you gotta leave so soon?” Wukong doesn’t sound too torn up, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy her company. She was charming, interesting, and dangerous.

“I’ve got what I need. And I won’t overstay my welcome,” Ahri pats her satchel. Little bundles of preserved fruit stowed away. Meat she could hunt for, but gathering was so dull.

Wukong shrugs, “So, uh, I’m going to show you to the elevator.”

“What.”

“I mean, on the one hand - you climbing all the way down would be hilarious. But yeah, how else do you think we got all this wood up here?” Wukong laughs, turning to lead the way.

“An elevator?” Ahri calls out, rushing to follow him, “An elevator!?”

AN ELEVATOR?

[onceuponamirror]

the winged beast [6/12]

Fandom: Riverdale

Ships: Betty x Jughead, Archie x Veronica (background)

Chapters: 6/12

Summary:

This is how the world ends, she thinks. Not with a bang but with a motorcycle.

[serpent!au] [read on Ao3 from the beginning] [2] [3] [4] [5] [character design]

Betty, at least, was able to rule out Jason on Saturday morning, when she, without much delicacy, had asked Polly if she’d heard from Jason. Polly said she had; apparently he’d been drunk texting her all night and by breakfast, he’d sent an equal amount of flustered apologies. Her sister had said this all with pursed lips, and Betty filed away the reaction for later.

It’d been a huge relief; if it wasn’t Jason, it wasn’t her fault. Still, it was a reassurance she felt at odds with, given that just because Jason was okay, didn’t mean someone else was.

But she doesn’t have to wait long to find out; the news breaks on Saturday night.

When no one had heard from Moose Mason for 24 hours, Reggie Mantle had apparently confirmed it with the football team; he himself had tried resuscitating Moose until the paramedics arrived. Betty found out through Kevin, who already knew, but waited until it was publicly on twitter that Moose had been hurt before passing the news.

“I mean, I saw him like half an hour before,” Kevin says on the phone that night, his voice shaky. “I think he might’ve been trying to get me to have a threesome? Like? He was being so weird and out of it. I should’ve known something was up. I was so shocked that I just walked away but what if that was the last…” Kevin sucks in a gulp of air and trails off.

“It’s definitely not your fault, Kev,” Betty says softly, though she thinks about how stressed she’d been about Jason a few hours before and knows words probably mean nothing to Kevin right now. “There was no way you could’ve known.”

“Speaking of…none of us are supposed to know about this, by the way,” he adds, after a minute. His voice is stiff, and Betty can tell he’s probably still beating himself up. “My dad wants to wait for an official press conference. But he told me this morning. It’s…really bad, Betty.”

“Bad how?” Betty rolls over on her bed to grab her diary. She feels a sting of guilt with herself for jumping into journalist mode, but decides the truth is more important than tact. She raises her pencil to the paper.

Kevin pauses, choosing his words. When he speaks, his voice is very small. “He died, Betty. On the way to the hospital.”

She feels all the air leave her lungs and drops her pencil. “He…what? Died? I thought he was just…sick, or something. What happened? How?”

“My dad wouldn’t tell me, but I don’t think it was…uh, natural causes,” Kevin says. “Crap, I hear him coming. I gotta go, Betty. I’ll see you Monday. And don’t tell anyone,” he adds, and then the line is dead.

He died. Kevin’s words echo, almost mockingly. Moose Mason? Dead? It wasn’t as if she knew Moose particularly well, but she’s also known him her entire life. His entire life, she thinks with a sickening crunch to her stomach.

Betty closes her eyes and tries to retrace the moments at the base of the stairs. Joaquin running down the hall, someone yelling that Moose wasn’t breathing, Veronica and Archie arriving, the paramedics upstairs and shouting symptoms…they’d said something, a word she’d heard before. Some kind of medical term, maybe?

She exhales slowly, and when it finally feels like her lungs have nothing left in them, she blinks up at the ceiling. It doesn’t seem real. She saw him in class yesterday; she’d helped him spell the word scholastic. She feels sick; it’s one thing to abstractly investigate accidents and deaths on the other side of town, and it’s another to know someone taken by it.

Nibbling on her lip, she reaches over for her phone. She pulls Jughead up in her contacts and stares at the last conversation they’d had on Friday before the party.

Alright, I just watched 10 Things I Hate About You. It was so predictable!

That means you liked it :)

Does not

You like predictable

Can we keep the psychoanalysis off the table for once thank you very much

But then, a few minutes later, he’d sent:

I guess I see the appeal though

Betty stares at the exchange. Jughead does like predictability, despite whatever devil-may-care image he’s spent however long finely crafting. He may claim to be a cinema buff and a lover of creative integrity, but almost all of his favorite films have the exact same plot trajectory:

Character enters the mystery, then a reluctant partnership, a death or two halfway through to raise the stakes, followed by a big twist, followed by an ending that is somehow as satisfying as it is bittersweet.

She blinks back to the ceiling. If her life were a film, would last night have been the twist, or was the arc so obvious it couldn’t have been? Was this all foreshadowed by her obsession with finding the truth about the south side? Was this the moment that raised the stakes?

Or was a boy just dead?

The thought brings her soundly back into the moment. Her fingers hover over the keyboard of her phone, reading and rereading Jughead’s last text.

What she really wants to say is Hey, so what the fuck but that feels both too heavy and too joking somehow. Plus she’s not sure he’s ever heard her swear in the first place and the shock alone might distract him from the fact that she’s being serious.

But what would she say? Ask him what the hell Joaquin was doing fleeing the scene of what ended up being a death? That would feel accusatory and she doesn’t want to indict Jughead or even Joaquin of anything. After all Jughead opened up about people from the south side being stereotyped, and she just drops the blame on him or his friends without waiting for the full story?

No, she won’t insult Jughead by insinuating that.

So she settles on I have your leather jacket. She’s never seen him without it; she likes to imagine he has a closet full of them, like some cartoon character with only one outfit, but given the well-loved scuffing on this one, she doubts it. Anyway, she figures it’ll be easier to talk about this in person than try to navigate via text.

Do you want me to bring it to you? Meet at Pop’s?

About an hour later, and she still hadn’t gotten a response.

Or I’ll just bring it to school on Monday, whatever’s easiest.

Still nothing, and reluctantly Betty puts her phone aside to get ready for bed. Is he mad at her? Did she do something wrong? After her panic attack in the bushes of the Mantle mansion, the rest of the night had continued in such a haze that she barely remembers driving everyone home, but she tries to rack her brain for something she might’ve said to Jughead to upset him.

He’d tried to tell her something and she had shut him down, expecting it’d been the long-time-coming talk about boundaries and feelings. But Jughead doesn't seem like a guy who enjoys confrontation, and Betty would think he’d be relieved at dodging the “I have a girlfriend” talk.

Betty wonders if she should just be direct and ask him point blank if he knows anything. She remembers the terror on Joaquin’s face and Sabrina cursing madly down the stairs, but Jughead had seemed just as confused as she had been.

So why was he ignoring her?

She gets under the covers and pulls them tight up against her chin. There’s murmuring downstairs and the creak of her parents moving around, and Betty stares at the stick-on-stars on her ceiling and remembers tracing the constellations in the stars outside the party. She’d felt so happy then, if just for a fleeting moment.

She closes her eyes and thinks about Moose Mason.

.

.

.

Sunday drags on with glacial pace; this means two things. One, that no one else yet knows that Moose Mason, lovable high school linebacker, everyone’s All-American buddy, is dead.

Two, that her mother doesn’t know.

Part of her appreciates the day as the quiet before the storm, because once word reaches her classmates and especially once it reaches her mother and the town paper, it’s going to be hell. The north side of Riverdale has thus far happily kept horse-blinders on, but to lose one of their own is surely going to break the dam, especially if Moose didn't die naturally. 

Naloxone.

She sits upright in bed. The word comes to her in a flash, in a blinding memory of chaos and screams. “He’s hypoxic! Pupils dilated! Ready the naloxone!” The paramedic shouted, and Betty blinks. She hasn’t heard that word before, she’s read it.

She picks up her laptop and types it into the search bar. Naloxone, she reads, is the drug administered to people who have overdosed; it’s especially useful for those who OD on fentanyl because it’s so easy to over do.

Moose overdosed, she thinks, her mouth falling open. She clam shells her laptop shut and lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. On fentanyl? Moose Mason?

Fentanyl is not a drug typically found at the keggers of rich kids; it’s rough, and gritty. Cocaine, she could see. Prescription drugs, definitely. But her research has taught her fentanyl is typically cut into heroin, if anything, and that gives Betty pause, but she's not sure if it's her own unconscious prejudice about what an overdose should “look like” or if is this genuinely suspicious. 

She picks up her pencil and diary, her thoughts swirling. But after about ten minutes, Betty realizes she has just been staring at a blank page the whole time, and decides she’s not going to get anywhere with writing out her thoughts today, so she puts it aside and crawls over to her window perch.

Archie is sitting in his chair at his own window, spinning left and right as he juggles a worn-looking football between his hands. He looks up when Betty settles into her own seat, and moves to open his window. She does the same.

“How are you doing?” He asks, settling on his elbows.

With a pang of guilt, Betty realizes she’s been kind of neglectful of her friendship with Archie lately in lieu of time with the newspaper and, if she’s being honest with herself, with Jughead. But Archie has been equally busy with football and music and neither of them have made much of an effort lately. Betty makes a mental note to set aside some time for him.

“I’m okay,” Betty lies, forcing a light smile. “Thinking about Friday night though.”

“Me too,” Archie says, looking forlorn. “I keep trying to go through the people I saw at the party and the last time I saw them.” He pauses. “Who do you think it was?”

Betty bites her lip. Kevin had told her not to say anything and given the radio silence from Veronica too, she assumes he hasn’t told anyone but her. And she loves Archie, and while he’s decent at keeping secrets on his own, the minute someone presses him on it, he caves. He can’t lie to save his skin and telling him is too risky.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, deciding not to pass the buck, “but I have a really bad feeling about this, Archie. Like it’s only going to get worse.”

Archie nods. “I feel it too. But I don’t…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…this weird heaviness, like it’s in the air or something. Does that make sense?”

It makes more sense than Archie probably realizes. Betty tucks her chin down and nods, glancing across the room to her wardrobe, where Jughead’s jacket is currently hidden, tucked away like some dark, living, breathing secret. She exhales, long and slow, and meets Archie’s gaze one last time. 

These violent delights have violent ends, she thinks.

.

.

.

Betty wakes earlier than normal on Monday morning; truthfully, her sleep was fitful and tossing, so it’s not too difficult to roll out of bed at 5 A.M. and dress for an early run. She slips out of the house and heads out into a jog around the block. She’s exhausted, but her heart hasn’t stopped hammering since Friday, and the anxiety masquerading as adrenaline pushes her steps into long, lean strides.

She pounds into the cement, hoping to chase a burn that will soothe her churning thoughts, but after about 40 minutes, she realizes she can’t literally outrun her feelings, and she heads back home.

Her mother is bustling about in the kitchen when she returns. Alice looks up when she hears Betty approaching. “You’re up early,” she says, in the pleased voice she always uses when she’s impressed with Betty pushing herself. “Get a good run in?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, still breathing heavily. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Her mother nods and returns to her morning mantra of preparing pancakes and coffee. Betty watches her mother work for a moment, almost robotically, like some kind of pre-Feminine Mystique housewife going through the motions.

As she's heading up the stairs, Betty hears the phone ring, followed by her mother answering it quietly. It's a little early for a phone call, Betty thinks, but dismisses it once she's out of earshot. 

After her shower, Betty forgoes breakfast and heads straight to school; she wants to get there early, before anyone else, to get some work done on the paper, because she has a feeling that the day is going to be nothing short of a tempest once school starts. The police won’t be able to contain this secret much longer.

When she arrives at the Blue & Gold, she checks her phone again, but there’s still nothing from Jughead. Sighing, she hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack. It’d barely fit in her backpack this morning, and practically weighed as much as her old cat, but there was no way she was gonna let her mother see her sneaking out the door with a big black leather jacket in hand.

Betty sighs and settles down in front of her laptop. She doesn’t really know what she’s looking for, and technically this is just her own theory, but something still feels very suspicious about the combination of an all-star football player and a dangerous drug like fentanyl. She spends the next hour or two reading up about rise in overdoses across the country—there apparently is no shortage of small town horror stories much like their own.

Riverdale isn’t special, she realizes, and then feels naïve for not looking at this as indicative of a larger, national problem. Still, there's not much that reassures her about the conflicting depictions of fentanyl use and the image of Moose Mason. 

After she’s read so many articles that her eyes start to cross, she slams her laptop shut and puts her forehead in her hands. She hears people mulling about outside the room; students have started arriving like a gathering flock of scavenging birds, circling ominously over a wounded animal.

Betty sighs, and decides to use the remaining minutes before the first bell to get a few things out of her locker. When she returns, there’s someone standing in front of the corkboard, and she has a brief moment of relief where she thinks it might be Jughead.

It’s not.

Agent Drew looks over his shoulder at her, his face serious, before glancing once more to the wall of clippings and index cards with theories. His eyes linger on the center card for FENTANYL.

He traces his eyes around the room, moving slowly, and reaches the collection of Nancy Drew novels stacked on a shelf. He runs his fingers over them contemplatively.

“You like Nancy Drew?” He asks with a small smile. Betty returns it awkwardly and nods, her mind still playing catch up with the fact that there’s an FBI agent in her newspaper office. “Me too. I always used to get teased for reading the Nancy books instead of the Hardy Boys, but, well, I liked her best.”

“Because of your last name?” Betty asks, without really thinking first.

“Sort of the other way around,” he says evasively, clearing his throat and straightening. “Anyway. Miss Cooper, when we last spoke, you mentioned a few things I would like to follow up on. Would you mind answering a few more questions for me? We don’t have to go to the station; we can do this right here.”

The first bell tolls between them, but neither move.

“I know my rights, sir,” she says, raising her chin in the air, in an act that looks more defiant than she feels. “You can’t question me without a parent.”

He smiles, and runs a smoothing hand over his already crisp suit jacket. In the warm yellow light of the Blue & Gold office, Agent Drew looks a lot younger and friendlier than he had on Friday night. “Miss Cooper—may I call you Elizabeth?”

“I go by Betty,” she says, in a shaky exhale.

“Betty, then. You’re not under arrest, or even in any trouble. This isn’t a custodial setting and we can stop at any time. If there were charges being laid, of course we would have a parent or a guardian present, but I just have a few qualifying questions.”

She shifts from one foot to another. He looks at her, eyebrows creasing. “Gauging from the generous collection of mystery novels and the set up on that corkboard, I get the sense that you’re someone looking for the truth. Well, I am too. That’s why I’m here.”

She considers him. She thinks about what Jughead would say if he were here; probably warn her about not trusting authority figures or something with a casual conspiracy theory about capitalist police states.

But Jughead isn’t here, and has been ignoring her for days now. Why should she care what he’d say? She stares at the coat rack where she’d hung his leather jacket this morning, thinking he’d want it back today.

“If you would like anyone here with you, you are more than welcome to it, and I’ll happily wait,” he adds, with a small smile.

“No, it’s okay,” she says hesitantly. Despite a growing wariness of law enforcement ever since Jughead entered her life, there is something trustworthy about Agent Drew. He doesn’t seem any less business-like, but in the light of day, he has almost a paternal air to him, despite the fact that he can’t be more than in his late 20s.

Agent Drew crosses the room to the door, which he closes gently. Betty takes her usual seat, and he slips into the one across from her; the place where Jughead usually sits. She’d been upset that he’d skipped school again today, but now she’s desperately hoping he doesn’t change his mind and stays away.

He hauls a heavy-looking briefcase onto the desk, and begins sorting through it. He pulls out a manila folder and that familiar little black notebook, and aligns them together so that they’re perfectly straight and parallel.

He opens up the folder and clears his throat. “As this information will be released to the public shortly, if not already, I should tell you that Mr. Marmaduke Mason, otherwise known as Moose, passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning.”

He glances up at Betty, watching her carefully for her reaction, so Betty feigns shock, her mouth falling open. She’s not sure she convinces him, because he narrows his eyes before moving on.

“This morning I received the toxicology report from the autopsy of Mr. Mason,” he says, and Betty feels a shiver at the word autopsy. “And, along with a few other things, there was a fair amount of the opioid known as fentanyl in his system. Now that I’m seeing your…er, corkboard, I’m wondering if you have anything you’d like to share with me in that regard. What made you suspect the overdoses on the south side were linked to fentanyl? As far as I know, that wasn’t published anywhere.”

“My friend Jughead suggested it,” Betty says cautiously. “He works with me on the school paper.”

“Ah,” Agent Drew sighs, opening up his little notebook and flipping through it. “Right, right. Mr. Jones. I ran the names that you gave me, and unfortunately, it poses a bit of a dilemma.”

Betty bristles. He reaches back into his briefcase and withdraws an identical envelope. He scans his eyes over the papers briefly and begins to read.

“Joaquin DeSantos, the one who you said placed the first 911 call, has been arrested on multiple accounts of vandalism over the years. Sabrina Spellman has been in so many fights it’s amazing she’s still upright. And your friend Jughead Jones was once held in juvenile court for trying to burn down his elementary school.”

He puts the folder down and crosses his arms over it. “All three are known Southside Serpents. I’m afraid that doesn’t bode well, given I’ve learned they fled the scene shortly after Mr. Mason was found and that Mr. DeSantos was seen leaning over Mr. Mason by a witness.”

He looks up at Betty, and she’s surprised to see he looks more resigned than anything.

Known Serpent, she thinks. All three are known Southside Serpents, she hears Agent Drew’s voice echoing. Trying to burn down his elementary school.

That couldn’t be right. Why hadn’t Jughead told her? How could he have kept that from her? Did he think she’d care? Judge him?

She feels hurt—beyond hurt, maybe—but she doesn't have time to unpack that. She tries to keep her attention on Agent Drew. Her nails breach the skin of her palms in an attempt at focusing.

“That might all be true, sir, but I don’t think it’s them or the Serpents who are selling the fentanyl. I think they’ve been getting targeted for refusing to. There have been a lot of motorcycle accidents and people being run off the road, and bricks going through windows, and—”

“Betty, please,” Agent Drew says calmly. “I’m not accusing the Southside Serpents of anything. To be frank with you, I know that the local police department here would very much like it to be that simple. It’d be a neat little bow to tie everything together and would get the mayor’s office off their backs. I’m a bit of an unpopular guy right now for suggesting otherwise, but I agree with you in that there seems to be a pattern here.”

He sighs, and busies himself with readjusting his files. “But I’ve gotten very off topic. Betty, the reason I actually wanted to speak with you today is because of your friend Veronica Lodge.”

Betty blinks. She pauses, not sure she’s heard him right. “What?”

“Betty, are you aware that Veronica’s father is currently awaiting trial in a federal penitentiary?” He asks, pen poised over the notebook once more.

“I mean…yeah, but for like, tax evasion, right? It’s not like he was arrested for murder.”

Agent Drew smiles, but it’s more of a grimace than anything. “That would be Al Capone. Though that’s not too far off base,” he adds, more to himself. He immediately looks frustrated with himself, and sighs, straightening. “Betty, has Veronica ever mentioned anything about her father to you?”

It’s one thing to help Agent Drew with the investigation into Moose’s death, and it’s another to start pointing fingers at her friends. She opens her mouth to tell him just that, but doesn’t get a chance to, because the door flies open with such a force that both of them jump in their seats.

“Elizabeth, stop talking,” someone says, and Betty looks up to see her mother storming across the room. She throws her purse down on a desk, her face red with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are, questioning my daughter without a parent or a lawyer in the room?”

“Mom, what the hell?”

Agent Drew bolts upright from his chair. “Ma’am, please, I just had a few questions for your daughter regarding my investigation. It’s perfectly within legal realms. I assure you she is in no trouble; I informed her that she had the option of awaiting guardianship—”

“I’d like to see some credentials,” Alice snaps. “And get your name, so that I can report it to your supervisor immediately.���

“Of course,” Agent Drew says, and quickly retrieves his identification badge. “Special Agent Charles Drew with the FBI.”

Alice stares at Agent Drew for a long, hard moment, her expression odd and pinched.

“Mom, how did you even know he was here?” Betty asks, and it’s as if a spell was broken. Alice inhales and turns to her daughter.

“I happened to have a meeting with Principal Weatherbee today regarding Homecoming. He mentioned to me that the FBI were on the grounds conducting interviews and, well, I saw you two through the door window.”

Betty knows her mother well enough to read between the lines; that means her mother pressed Weatherbee into a corner for information and then she immediately went stalking off for a scoop.

Alice turns to Agent Drew with appraising eyes. “What exactly is the nature of your investigation?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper, I’m afraid I can’t speak to the details of an ongoing case, however, beyond the fact that I’m now the primary investigator into Mr. Mason’s death this weekend.”

The revelation that a student died doesn't seem to shock Alice particularly, which means she must've learned about it this morning.

Betty looks at her. Her mother seems stuck between a rock and a hard place, perhaps warring with her instinct to needle for information and her desire to shelter her daughter from it. “And just how long has the FBI been involved here?” She asks, squinting at him.

“Details of the case will be made public after it’s closed, or until otherwise seen fit,” Agent Drew says, almost robotically. “Mrs. Cooper, I’ve done my research into this town, and I am aware that you and your husband run the town’s local newspaper, so unfortunately, you’ll have to wait for an official press conference to get your questions in.”

His lips twitch, just barely, and Betty realizes that actually might’ve been a joke.

“Fine,” Alice sniffs. “Now, if you have any more questions for my daughter, you can contact our lawyer. You’re done here.”

Agent Drew doesn’t seem particularly surprised that this is the conclusion of a helicopter parent storming into his interview. He gives her one last studying look before packing up his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, and slips away.

Alice turns her eyes on Betty. “What was he asking you about?” She asks sharply. “I heard him mention Veronica Lodge’s name. I told you what I think of that girl. She’s not your friend.”

“Stop it!” Betty shouts. “You don’t even know her! Why are you so obsessed with this…witch-hunt with her and her family, when you should be talking about what’s really going on in this town?”

Alice crosses her arms and looks over at the corkboard. “What’s really going on in this town? You mean your flirtation with the high school newspaper? Elizabeth, please. Those gangbangers don’t care about you or any of us; why would you care about them? They made their bed and they’ll sleep in it as far as I’m concerned.”

Betty stares at her mother with horror. “Why are you like this?” She asks after a moment. “I mean, god Mom, what did they ever do to you?”

Alice just presses her lips together and looks back at the corkboard, her eyebrows creasing.

“People like you treat them like second-class citizens but they’re just as much part of Riverdale as we are. Just because they don’t fit into your Stepford fantasy doesn’t mean they aren’t,” Betty says, raising her chin into the air.

Her mother scoffs, though she looks noticeably ruffled. “Betty, this is hardly so Shakespearean. We’re not Capulets and Montagues. I’m perfectly sure there are some good people on the south side, but the fact of the matter is, I can say with certainty that a lot of them are gangbanging drug dealers. You of all people should know that by now, after what happened on Friday night, but you’ll see tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Betty repeats. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Your father and I are running a story about this boy’s death and the little Serpent that was seen standing over his body,” Alice says, staring out the window. She glances back at Betty sharply. “Or is that not what happened?”

“That—that’s you twisting it!” Betty sputters. “We don’t have all the facts, we have no idea what happened or how Moose got the drugs. You know, Jughead said—”

“Jug-head? Who is Jug-head?”

Betty realizes her mistake immediately. “He’s…he works with me on the school paper.”

“What an unusual name,” her mother muses suspiciously. “Hard to think there’s more than one Jughead in this town. Would he be the same Jughead Jones of south-side-proper that Reggie Mantle listed as being at the party?”

“He had nothing to do with what happened to Moose,” Betty says quickly. “He was with me all night.”

Alice hums; she has the same expression that Betty makes when she’s filing something away for later. Then she sighs, her whole posture deflating a little.

“Betty, you do remember that Reggie Mantle’s father owns half the share of the Register, correct? And then there’s party thrown by his son, apparently unbeknownst to them, and it ends in a boy’s death. Needless to say, it doesn’t look good for an upstanding family to have an overdose under their roof.”

“But...”

“Do you realize the kind of pressure Mr. Mantle is putting on us to write about the culprits who dealt the drugs or brought them onto his property?” Alice snaps, looking suddenly very tired. 

“But that doesn’t mean you should just start scapegoating the easiest target—”

Her mother turns to her, arms crossed. Her icy resolve seems to be melting a bit as she straightens.

“Betty, you wanted us to start talking about overdoses and drugs, and now we are. You wanted us to talk about the south side, and now we are. You don’t always get what you want the way you want it,” she says, and Betty is surprised to find the softness there, nestled in between a thoughtful frown.

Alice turns her attention back to the window. She almost looks sad now. “There are things I never wanted for you, honey, but I had to learn my lesson about Pandora’s box the hard way. And it seems you do too.”

.

.

.

[withabackpackandcamera]

February 12th, 2017

Day 24: The Never-Before-Seen Scenes from Egilsstadir to Akureyri!

Last night’s sleep was so, so needed after having a hard night’s sleep the previous night. I slept like a baby and didn’t want to wake up to get an early start, even though I could see the nice sunrise sky that was happening through my half-opened eyes. Oh well. But I didn’t stay in bed too long because there was just so much I thought I was supposed to do and see today. I actually hadn’t planned anything in this particular area of the country before the trip and did some very light planning while in bed this morning. The light planning was just googling “what to do between Egilsstadir and Akureyri.” And tada, the answer was found!

So, after that short planning session, I got up and had Skyr with granola and raisins for breakfast while trying to figure out my trip with Stefán. He was so very helpful as he really knows all the things in North and Northeastern Iceland like the back of his hand because of all the working, traveling, and driving he has done in his lifetime. He showed me where to go, what to see, where to avoid, etc. But luckily, the overall theme of the morning’s discussion of the trip was that the weather was staying awesome and I was lucky thus far to have such mild, spring-like weather in February.

After our discussion about the morning and our flipping through of old paper maps, Stefán offered to take me to Seyðisfjörður (or at least most of the way) so I could see the spectacular view down into the fjord from the highlands. And because he knew the area so well, I prompted agreed to let him take me! But before we could leave, he told me I would have to leave a lasting mark in the household’s guestbook, one that was made of carved wood for Stefán and Helga’s 50th birthdays. So so cool! And really gorgeous!

After finishing that, off we went into the highlands, with Stefán driving and me finally taking a break from driving myself. It was nice to be in a stable, new car that a well-seasoned Icelandic driver was driving. And you could tell he knew what he was doing because he showed no signs of hesitance while driving up the curving road into the mountains. When we got to the top of the highland area, there was a stopping point that he stopped at for me to do some photo taking. And it was a really awesome sight, one that looked from the waterfall in the highlands down a river into the valley where the little town of Seyðisfjörður was sitting on the edge of the fjord. Simply beautiful! I walked around both banks of the waterfall to take pictures from all sorts of angles. I didn’t find one particular angle better than any others, but I feel like I got some pictures I could potentially be happy about.

Before long, it was time to hit the road to get back home and for me to hit the road to Akureyri. Before I left his house, Stefán wanted to show me some of the artistic gifts he had received from people in the past, including a beautiful painting of humanity and the monster inside all of us, represented by centaurs committing different types of sins. Next, Helga took a moment to show me the pillow that she was making, telling me the story of how she lost an old pillow with a beautiful design and how she couldn’t find that design anywhere else and decided to make it on her own. Women in Iceland are just so talented, especially when it comes to sewing and knitting. Then, Stefán showed me a cool coffee table made of rocks and minerals that were native to Iceland. And these rocks symbolized the different members of the family (or so Stefán said). And lastly, he showed me a beautifully carved double duck with its four eggs, representative of his family and kids. So many cool things with such neat stories attached to them!

After taking a farewell photo of my hosts and thanking them for their kindness, I was off and on the road once again. Before getting too far into my trip, I stopped for some cheap food because I was hungry again and got a hotdog (pylsur) because it was the cheapest option. A hotdog and coke for 399 ISK. Score. So off I went after feeding myself. The weather and drive were quite nice, with colored cloudy skies most of the drive. The first part of the drive was getting through the highlands and that was difficult because of how windy it was up there. It was RIDICULOUSLY WINDY up there. So strong that I felt that my car was being pushed from the front and side by the wind. But I navigated safely through that area, no problem. Besides the wind, the area was full of mountains and valleys with snow and ice on the ground beside the road.

The next section after the highlands were the mountains. Icy, snowy mountains. And at this point, there was a good amount of ice on the roads, though they were mostly in patches from time to time. I really thank my Colorado driving experience for getting me through all that ice on the road because if I was a first time winter driver, I’d have stopped and turned around. But luckily, with my experience, I was safe and got through it fine!

While driving, I kept looking at every sign that popped up to make sure I didn’t miss any sights or cool things along the way like I had done in the past. And the first sign that caught my attention this trip: Dettifoss. Dettifoss, the largest waterfall in Europe, was about 25-30km north of the Ring Road and quite out of the way for my trip to Akureyri. This morning, my host Stefán had suggested that I don’t go visit Dettifoss this time but go next time as time was short today and the road leading to it may be icy and bad during this time of year. With those things I mind, I turned into the road that would take me there and found two Aussies just leaving the waterfall. So I asked them about the waterfall and road out to it, and they said the road was fine and Dettifoss wasn’t bad but not ridiculously cool. They also mentioned that it was extremely icy out there walking to the waterfall and that was the crappy part. But that everything would be OK if I was interested in going out to see it.

So I drove out there and sure, there were some patches of ice, but nothing too crazy. Until I got to the parking lot for Dettifoss, where the ENTIRE PARKING LOT WAS ICE. Slippery, watery ice. I saw a parking spot close to the exit that had no ice and thought that would be my best chance to escape the parking lot later on without getting stuck in ice. I parked and got out. And immediately thought “What have I gotten myself into...” The parking lot was essentially an ice-skating rink and so I had to carefully slide-walk my way over to the clear-ish sidewalk on the other side. There, I asked for directions to get to the waterfall and got an answer that basically was interpreted as… it’s not that close. So I started my crazy crazy icy journey to see Dettifoss. And Selfoss, another waterfall that I later realized was there as well. At first, I thought I was hiking to Dettifoss, but later learned that I was hiking to Selfoss first. The path to the rim of Selfoss included compacted snow, then soft snow that, when stepped on, took you probably two feet below the snow surface, then ice (and lots of ice), then watery ice, then watery snow, then more ice, and more ice and more ice, and then snow with water underneath, then rocks and ice-cold water. Yeah. It really was that ridiculously. So, I struggled for about 30-40 minutes through the ice and snow with my no-tread running shoes that had worn down over the years. I decided to wear this pair instead of my hiking boots because my running shoes had more surface area contacting the ice and I thought that might be better than my hiking boots, which had less surface area in contact with the ice.

By the time I reachedthe edge of the Selfoss (I was still quite far from the head of the waterfall), my shoes were soaked in freezing water, my socks were soaked in freezing water, my pants were somewhat soaked at the bottom, and I was tired and it was very very windy. I took some photos and sat there to rest and realized just how crazy a feat I had completed to see the waterfall. Then, of course, I see some European dude just zooming by from rock to rock in his Nikes to the very edge of the head of the waterfall. I was impressed that he went that far and made it look so easy. So I decided I’d give it a try too. But nope, I turned back pretty quickly because of how dangerous the route seemed, because of my shoes, and because of all the freezing water along the way. I decided I would just give up on taking the best possible photo of Selfoss and save it for some future summer visit.

After seeing Selfoss (which I thought was Dettifoss), I turned back to start trekking to my car and at this point realized the European guys were not yet going back to their car. So, I decided that I would follow them, and follow them I did, through ice, snow, water, and rocks until we got to an observation deck (pretty far from where I was taking photos) where people were looking out into the fantasticly huge waterfall Dettifoss. Tons of Asian photography tourists were all on the observation deck trying to get a shot of the waterfall that, despite being huge in volume, was particularly unphotogenic. So after some shots, I followed the tourists out towards the parking lot. And up until this point, I was keeping my balance pretty well despite the conditions. But it was on the way back that I miscalculated my step and came tumbling down from the rocks onto the snowy path in front of all the Asian tourists. Luckily for me, no harm done so I just continued my trek back at the same pace and finally got back to my car after all the snowy and icy treacherousness.

At this point, the sun was starting to set into a beautiful sunset sky and there was much ground to be covered, especially since I wasn’t originally planning on going to Dettifoss and wasn’t expecting the trip to be as long as it was. So, I sped through Myvatn, a geothermal hotspot with its well-known, less touristy geothermal pool/hot spring (essentially a less crowded and less expensive Blue Lagoon). And because I was running behind schedule, I also rushed by everything else and essentially missed all of the sights I wanted to see on my drive to Akureyri except Godafoss (I knew Godafoss was a waterfall I had to see, especially since it was close to the main road and was really pretty in the photos that I saw). I also skipped a lot of things in the hopes of catching Godafoss at sunset because the sunset was, at that point, becoming extraordinarily gorgeous with red-blood-celled-clouds in the sky with all shades of dark and vivid red and orange. But as I kept driving, the sunset continued to become more and more epic to the point where I just raised the white flag and gave up on making it to Godafoss with the spectacular sunset and stopped for a quick photo and view of the area. So, I stopped to take a simple photo of probably one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve seen in awhile and was off to Godafoss right as the colors were starting to fade.

Once I got to Godafoss, I quickly looked around and realized that the vantage point for the waterfall from the parking lot was quite horrible. Not only was the view not ideal, the whole area was covered in mud making it difficult to get anywhere. Seeing that, I decided to give the other bank of the waterfall a try. So, I drove back to the other side and climbed down to a beautiful view of Godafoss from a lower vantage point. I spent quite a while taking photos of Godafoss from there and before long, the sky was really dark and the colors were really starting to fade.

I got back on the road and started towards Akureyri at a blitzing speed because I needed to get there and meet with Sigurdur, Sveinn’s friend who was helping me with housing.  And before long, I was in Akureyri and following Sigurdur back to my home for the evening. This home was really a hospital-owned apartment/housing facility reserved for visiting doctors who practice in the hospital here. So, I was very fortunate to be placed here. After some chatting, Sigurdur suggested a couple of places that I could try out for dinner and I decided that, because I was so hungry and hadn’t had a good meal in awhile, that I would be willing to pay for good food tonight. In the end, I decided to go to a hamburger restaurant close by called Íslenska Hamborgarafabrikkan (The Icelandic Hamburger Factory) and got the No. 8 Morthens Burger (beef on a square brioche bun with bacon, grilled mushrooms, with garlic, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions, and Bearnaise sauce). It was good and I was full and satisfied by the end of it all. A pleasant meal at a nice but very expensive restaurant (my meal was 2395 ISK). And before leaving, I chatted with the waitress, a 20 yo girl named Tinna (sp?), for a few minutes to learn about what things I could do in Akureyri and the surrounding areas. Not too many good suggestions, unfortunately.

I eventually left the restaurant and strolled through downtown Akureyri for a little. There wasn’t much to see because everything was closed so I decided to head back to my place and call it a night.

Whew, what a crazy, tiring day. Excited for sleep.

5 Things I Learned Today:

1. Merchants used to travel 25 km between Egilsstadir and Seyðisfjörður and the sea in order to sell or deliver what they needed to sell or deliver. In order to not get lost, they would put up these stone piles/markers that would allow them to know which paths to take in the future. And to this day, those huge stone markers are still standing, probably frozen to one another. They are estimated to be upwards of 200 years old! And they are everywhere along the road!

2. Today, I learned the legendary tale of the Icelandic Worm Monster in Egilsstadir. Legend has it that long ago, there was a little girl in the valley near Egilsstadir who stumbled upon a golden ring. She took that ring and placed it in a case to keep it safe. And in that case, she also placed other things that caught her interest, in particular, a little worm that she also found in the valley. Over time, without her noticing, that worm grew and grew and grew. One day, she opened the case and saw a humongous worm and got extremely scared and threw everything, ring and all, into the lake Lagarfljot in Egilsstadir. Over time, the worm continued to grow and eventually turned into a large serpent/worm and legend has it that the golden ring became a pile of gold lying at the bottom of Lagarfljot that the large worm has continued to protect to this day.

3. Every mountain in Iceland is a volcano. That sounds a bit dangerous.

4. In 1783, the Laki Volcanic System in South Iceland erupted and caused worldwide havoc. Supposedly, the system erupted over a span of 8 months and produced a dangerous haze that covered huge parts of the world for months. The result of the catastrophe was death, poverty, and famine, all of which may have eventually contributed to the French Revolution in 1789.

5. Using the car’s feet heater to dry icy wet shoes and socks is the best idea ever. Blast it all the way for the amount of time it takes to get from one location to the next and your shoes will be ready to be soaked once more!

[evnoweb]

In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator

This post is dedicated to my new friend, Scott. Thank you, Scott, for challenging me to be a better educator, and more importantly, a better person.

Recently, I had an experience that I can’t stop thinking about. The more I reflect on that afternoon, the more I realize it’s likely an experience that I’ll never forget. Like many other days, I was on the go… running, running, running. Part of my world entails spending countless nights on airplanes, staying in hotels scattered around the country, while flying from place to place. That afternoon was similar to so many that I’ve had.

After rushing back to the San Diego airport, I dropped my rental car off, and hopped on the shuttle bus. The wrong shuttle bus, actually. Being at airports non-stop doesn’t prevent me from making dumb mistakes at them. Just before the driver pulled away, I grabbed my stuff, hopped off and ran to the other shuttle – this time the right one. As we pulled towards the airport, I did what I’ve done hundreds of times; I looked down at my phone, made sure I was checked in, looked at my gate, and figured out how much time I had until I boarded. A few minutes later, our crowded bus full of travelers was dropped off in what seemed to be complete chaos.

I moved through the large crowd and followed signs to Terminal 2. Upon getting there, I looked around and saw all of the airlines, except for the one I was taking – American. Taking an incredible amount of flights each year, I’m completely comfortable in airports, but for a few moments in this one, I felt alone and lost. I looked around and finally asked someone for help. An older gentleman pointed me towards the opposite end and said, “Didn’t you see it? It’s on the other side. You have to go all the way down there.” I thanked him and went on my way, walking quickly back through baggage claim and again through the masses of people towards the other side of the building.

About halfway through the crowd, I noticed a man about my age that I was walking towards. I could tell he seemed a bit lost and appeared to be looking for someone or something. He was holding a cane and was wearing unique glasses. I remember thinking to myself that he was probably trying to locate his bag. I also thought about how challenging that must be if he was alone and was in fact blind like I had assumed.

I kept walking….and eventually, I walked right by him, glancing back down at my phone.

Consumed with my own craziness, all that was on my plate, the calls I had to make, and the work I had to get done, I continued walking towards the security checkpoint. At one point, I turned back to glance at the man that had caught my attention, and noticed that he continued to stand alone. It was clear he felt lost – just as I had a few minutes prior on the other side of the terminal.

…and I started to feel sick to my stomach.

A few hours before, I had been blessed with an opportunity to encourage almost 1,000 educators who give their all for kids every day – at a Southern California opening day. In part of my talk that morning, I was challenging them on building relationships and the responsibility of building the culture in their schools. Just a few hours prior, I was pushing how even the smallest interaction can make someone’s day and be an encouragement; how showing someone you care and that they matter – can be life changing.

…and I started to feel like a complete hypocrite. Here I had just been challenging others to make every interaction count, and there I was walking right past someone in need.

So I humbly listened to that little voice inside my head and being disappointed in myself… I turned around.

I hustled back over to the man who was still standing there, looking around and it reminded me of how I had felt only moments before; only I had been able to see where I was. I walked up to him and simply said, “Hi, my name is Tom. You look like you need some help. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure where I am,” were his first words to me. I asked him which airline he had just flown and if he was trying to get his bag.

“I can’t remember which one it was,” was his response. I started to realize he needed a bit more help then which direction to head or how to find his bag. I looked around and saw an information desk over by one of the exit doors figuring those at the booth may be able to help. I asked this gentlemen his name, to which he said “Scott” and then invited him to put his hand on my shoulder to go figure it out where he needed to go. As we started walking together, I began asking if he had a boarding pass or something so that we could help figure out where he needed to go.

Scott responded, “I think it started with a “U.” I don’t remember….and I came from “up north.”

Over the next few minutes, the older gentleman at the information desk helped us figure out which plane Scott came in on and which carousel his baggage would arrive. The attendant asked, “Scott, was it the United flight from San Francisco?” to which Scott responded, “Oh. Yes, sir. That’s it. Thank you.” The attendant then pointed back to the far end of the building, exactly where I had just asked for my own directions.

Scott turned to me and slowly said, “Thank you for helping me.” Having still felt bad that, like hundreds of others, I had completely walked right by him the first time, I asked if I could help him safely get down to the other end to grab his bag.

As we began to navigate the crowd, Scott paused and turned towards me. “I’m really sorry. I have a hard time knowing where I am sometimes and it’s easy to forget things. It’s not that I’m blind, my brain just doesn’t function right.” he said slowly. I said, “No problem, Scott, let’s get you there safely. Glad to help.”

After glancing at my phone to see how much time I had to get to my own gate, I asked Scott what his bag looked like. He struggled to get the word “camouflage” out. He then said, “It’s a military color.”

Having a dad that served, and having tremendous respect for those that protect our freedoms, I paused and asked, “Scott, are you in the military?”

Scott stopped walking in the middle of the crowded room and pointed to his hat. “Purple heart” was embroidered on it. I had completely missed it, both the first time I walked by him, and during our first few minutes of interaction.

Scott slowly began, “It happened in Mosul. It’s a place in Iraq if you’ve never heard of it. I was Delta force…it’s part of the Army.”

My heart stopped. I started to anticipate where he was going with his story.

He continued, “It was a beautiful day like today, except it was much hotter. Maybe 130 degrees and trust me, that’s really hot. I can still smell the air from that day. My team was helping a family in the city. We were keeping these women and children safe because there were a lot of bad guys in the area.”

I’m not ashamed to admit that it was about that moment that my tears began to stream.

“We thought the bad guys had left. A while later, I went to check if they had and walked out the front door,” and then he paused again.

“That’s when it happened. I got shot.” He turned and pointed to the left side of his head.

“We were trying to help protect them. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see it coming.” 

As Scott relived a few minutes of a life changing day, the last day of what he always knew, I struggled to fight the tears thinking how only a few minutes prior, I was so self-consumed in all that I had to do and had walked right by this amazing man.

Scott slowly continued, “But it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. The problem is the bullet is still in my brain. It’s right there [he pointed]. The doctors say they can’t move it and can’t take it out and it needs to stay in there. But I’m okay. This is just my new life.”

The floodgates opened. My tears flowed as I stood, talking to someone who a few minutes later I had ignored.

We made our way over to baggage claim, his hand on my shoulder. As we slowly worked our way through the crowd, I asked about his story and where he was from. Scott shared that he grew up in El Paso, Texas. He talked about his family and how he joined the military to help people in need and how he always liked helping other people.

I grabbed his camouflage bag off of the conveyer belt and together we moved to the place where his dad was going to come get him. As we waited, he turned to me and said words that gave me chills, “I don’t understand why you wanted to help. Most people just walk right by.”

My heart sank. Because that HAD BEEN me. I WAS one of the people that walked right by him. I WAS the one who couldn’t make a few moments to help someone, all consumed with everything….me. I WAS the one that was too busy and too consumed with all of my needs to realize that I was in the presence of a hero.

“Hey Scott, it’s not every day that I get to meet an American hero. Can we take a picture so I can remember you and your story? I want to tell my kids about you. I want them to grow up and understand what true sacrifice means and what a hero really looks like…and it looks just like you.” I said.

He nodded and said, “I’d be honored to, Sir.”

As his dad approached, he stuck his hand out and said, “Thanks for being a friend, Tom.”

Feeling like I didn’t even deserve to carry this hero’s luggage, and with tears streaming, I could only get out, “No, thank you, Scott.”

Scott – you are a true hero. Thank you for challenging me to make sure I see other people first, put other people first, and never forget those families, and heros, that sacrifice all that they are and all that they have, for every day, selfish people like me.

If you want to see a humbled man, look at the person in the photo on the left. If you want to see an American hero, look at the man on the right.

It was truly an honor to be in Scott’s presence and have the privilege of carrying his bags while helping him safely get to where he needed to be. It was an honor that I will never forget.

As educators head back to open a new school year, we can never forget that every interaction matters. As kids walk by us in the hallway, how do we react? Are we looking at our phone, or looking into their hearts? When we see that child in need, or the one that appears to be lost, or the one that looks like they have the heavy heart, do we keep walking, like I will humbly say, I did that day? Or, do we pause our own world for a few moments to help lift someone else’s higher?

Every day is an opportunity to have an amazing impact on those around you. Even a chance interaction can be life changing… just as Scott was for me that afternoon.

All for the kids we serve, Phil 4:13

In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator published first on https://medium.com/@DigitalDLCourse

[seniorbrief]

How a Man Survived a Plane Crash—and a 15-Hour Swim with Sharks

This article was originally written by Peter Michelmore and appeared in the October 1987 edition of Reader’s Digest.

Sudpoth Sirirattanasakul/Shutterstock

An hour into his planned 65-minute flight from Nassau last December 5, Walter Wyatt, Jr., alone in his twin-engined Beechcraft, peered anxiously through the rain for a glimpse of Miami. In Nassau thieves had looted his navigational equipment, and Wyatt, 37, an airline flight engineer, was flying home by the seat of the pants, with only one compass and a hand-held radio.

After he had passed Andros Is­land, the skies blackened and the compass needle kept gyrating. Fearing it had led him off his west­erly course, Wyatt looked for some landmark. At 3500 feet, flying be­low the overcast, he spotted waves crashing over rocks, which he guessed were the chain leading to Bimini. He followed them north, but Bimini was nowhere in sight. He had not the faintest idea where he was.

Wyatt flicked on his radio. “Mayday, mayday,” he called. A Miami-bound Air Jamaica jetliner answered and relayed his call to the Coast Guard. A Falcon search jet responded at once but, confused by another distress signal and ham­pered by thunderstorms, took near­ly an hour to home in on Wyatt.

By the time Wyatt saw the white-and-orange jet drop out of the clouds, his right engine was sputtering and night was approach­ing. “We’ll get you down, buddy,” assured Falcon commander Lt. Ste­ven Blankenship. There was an emergency landing strip on Cay Sal to the southwest, he said, and sig­naled Wyatt to follow.

“Hang in there, Walter,” said Blankenship as they swooped low over the white-capped sea. “Six miles and you’ll be there.”

Suddenly Wyatt’s right engine coughed its last; then the left fuel tank ran dry, killing the other mo­tor. The airplane angled for the water. Lowering full flaps to cut speed, Wyatt cried, “I’m going in!” Blankenship, aghast, saw the Beechcraft’s lights hit the sea, then vanish. Banking, he made a low run over the spot. There was noth­ing to be seen of man or machine. (Here are tips to surviving a plane crash.)

Komenton/Shutterstock

An Air Force C-130 transport in the area dropped a parachute flare. But in four more passes, the Falcon crew saw no flares, no life raft and heard no emergency transmissions. They felt certain Wyatt was dead. Co-pilot Mike Flaherty tapped the fuel gauge. The needle was close to empty. At 6 p.m., they turned for Key West. “We did all we could,” said Blankenship dismally. “We’ll fuel up and come out again.”

Hidden in the Waves

Wyatt felt his forehead strike the instrument panel. The airplane bounced, then slammed back into the sea. Wyatt snatched two flares and scrambled onto a wing. Pulling the tags to inflate his life vest, he scanned the sky. The lights of the Coast Guard jet were coming at him. He struck the ignition cap of one flare. It fizzled. The other crumpled in his hands.

He felt the wing sinking under his feet, the nose pitching down. Within seconds, the plane was gone, and he was adrift in five-foot seas. Wyatt had taken sea-survival training and knew he should con­serve energy. But after 30 minutes he was shivering and his legs were cramping. Hidden in the waves, he knew he would be all but invisible to searchers. So he began swim­ming in what he thought was the direction of Cay Sal.

Robyn Gwilt/Shutterstock

Violent squalls churned the seas, and within another hour he was disoriented, his hope fast draining away. The left chamber of his vest was softening; air bubbled from a leak at the seams of the inflation tube. Then the tube broke loose and the chamber collapsed. He re­inflated it by blowing into the hole where the tube had been, and used his finger as a seal.

Wyatt rode the chilling waves as best he could. Blood dripped from his forehead; he was leaving a scent for man-eating sharks. But he knew he must fight to stay alive; to surrender would be suicide. If this is my final day, God, he prayed, I ask you to forgive my sins.

“I Love You”

Treading water, he methodically prepared his life vest to carry his last wishes to his loved ones. He removed an airline identity badge from his shirt and scratched on it with his watchband: “Trish the house.” He hoped a finder would decipher the will; he was leaving his house in Home­stead, Fla., to his girlfriend, Trisha Lansdale.

On the other side, he etched: “143 MDJWT.” The numbers were a code he used for “I love you,” the letters for Mom, Dad, daughter Jennifer, 12, son Walter, 10, and Trisha. Wyatt was divorced; the children lived with their mother in Chattanooga, Tenn.

He secured the badge to the vest and struggled on. He read his watch: 8 p.m. I can make it to 10, he told himself.

Just before the deadline, he felt the bump of a hard, moving body against his feet. A shark!

He waited, flesh creeping. They’ve found me, he thought. They’ll be back. Find out the one move you need to know to survive a shark attack.

At 10, he set midnight as his new survival goal, but the vest’s right chamber was leaking now. When its inflation tube also came away, Wyatt reinflated the chamber by mouth and applied his other index finger to the hole, fighting to keep his head above water.

He rolled onto his back and let the rainwater wash over his swollen tongue and salt-burned eyes. When the clouds briefly parted, he saw stars spinning in the heavens. One star seemed to separate from the others and dart toward him. Maybe it’s coming to take me where I have to go, he thought. Please, God, take my lift swiftly.

Hunted by Man-Eaters

In the sky to the west, Lieutenant Blan­kenship fought to hold his jet steady on course for Cay Sal. He had replenished his fuel in Key West and was returning, accompa­nied by a Navy helicopter, which would spotlight the search area. But visibility had fallen to near zero, with thunder and lightning and a deluge of rain. Continuing would jeopardize both aircraft and flight crews. He signaled the chop­per and turned back. They would search in the morning.

Down in the sea, the weary swimmer imagined dawn skies filled with aircraft looking for him. When midnight passed, he re­solved to last until daylight.

Then a blow on his feet sent him into panic. Another shark! Instinc­tively, he kicked at the intruder and pulled his hands from the vest. Water poured into the holes. Down he went-five feet­ tearing at the vest until he was free of it.

Stop! his mind commanded. Get your head to­gether! Now! As the vest sank deeper, he made a desperate lunge and felt his fingers close on the rubbery fabric.

Resurfacing, he held the limp vest in one hand, then took a gulp of air and turned his face into the water, his arms outstretched. He gave a scissor kick to propel himself forward, raised his head, exhaled, inhaled, and repeated the float­and-kick sequence. He kept it up for the better part of an hour.

Afterward, feeling calmed, he blew air back into the chambers of the life vest and slid his body on top of it. Timing the rush of the waves, he surfed onward. I’ll make it to dawn, he thought.

Andreas Wolochow/Shutterstock

Closing In

A flicker of hope stirred as a red speck of sun showed on the horizon, then climbed into the overcast. He looked for planes, but there was nothing. He lowered his gaze to the ocean. Directly in front of him, a dorsal fin cut through a wave. There was a thump on his left elbow. He let out a yelp and twisted away as the yellow-gray hide of a second shark slid by. The sharks were there in a pack, sizing him up.

Wyatt rolled onto his back. In the murky blue wall of a wave, he saw a big bull shark coming at him. Abruptly, it dived, then charged upward at his legs. Wyatt drew up a leg and slammed the heel of his sneaker down be­tween the shark’s eyes. It shot away, surfaced 20 feet to the side and began circling. Remora suckerfish were clinging all over its hide. ”I’m not ready to die yet, shark,” he called out.

Two more bulls swept in. Both spun away from his frantic kicks. Later, a hammerhead was almost too swift for him. Wyatt’s foot missed the ugly snout but crunched the fin, and the shark veered off. Here are 13 things you didn’t know about shark attacks.

Then Wyatt saw the metallic­ blue tail of a mako break the water. That’s one of those 90-mile-an-hour sharks, he warned himself. Tensing for a lightning strike, he watched the shark thrust its head out of a wave. The predator’s dead eyes were looking directly into his. In a flash, the mako was gone.

Wyatt felt sapped. The hunters would sense his weakness, he re­alized. Once he allowed that first bite, the pack would come in a frenzy. The distant roar of an aircraft brought his eyes left. He spotted a Coast Guard jet, then watched it fade from sight. In minutes, though, it reappeared—it was fly­ing a back-and-forth search.

“I’m Alive!”

When the plane had closed to within a half-mile, he waved the orange vest. The plane came nearer and then was over­head. Waving frantically, he arched his body out of the water. “Why don’t they see me?” he cried.

In the plane, Blankenship was looking almost straight down, hop­ing to spot the Beechcraft’s wreck­age. Suddenly his brain told him that for an instant he’d seen a man, half-buried in the swells, waving a life vest. He hit a computer button to fix the position, and said, “Hey, there’s a guy in the water!” He quickly radioed the Coast Guard cutter Cape York, 12 minutes away.

Mike Flaherty dropped a smoke canister to guide the cutter and saw Wyatt swimming for it. Close behind him was a huge dark shadow. Blankenship urgently radioed, “Get moving, cutter! There’s a shark targeting this guy!”

Wyatt had eyes only for the sil­ver glint of the canister. But why hadn’t they dropped a life raft? Minutes later, he had the answer. A sleek white boat was knifing toward him through the waves.

As the Cape York came abreast, a Jacob’s ladder snaked over the side. Wyatt caught a bottom rung and hung on, unable to climb.

WIRACHAIPHOTO/Shutterstock

“Hey, throw the vest away,” a voice shouted as two men helped him up.

“No way,” Wyatt replied in a croak. “It goes where I go.”

Over the rail he came, eyes swol­len, body shaking, and went to his knees to kiss the deck. It was 9 a.m. He had been swimming for more than 15 hours.

Circling above, Flaherty slapped his commander on the back. Blan­kenship grinned hugely. “This makes it all worthwhile,” he said.

Later that day, after Wyatt was examined at a Key West hospital, his parents drove him to Homestead, where he sat for hours with Trisha. “I can’t believe I’m alive!” he said over and over. He fell asleep, with Trisha holding his hands, and the life vest on the couch by his side.

Next, find out the 6 proven skills to survive any emergency.

Original Source -> How a Man Survived a Plane Crash—and a 15-Hour Swim with Sharks

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/how-a-man-survived-a-plane-crash-and-a-15-hour-swim-with-sharks/

[pamagrimes-blog]

Chicken Mom and The Big Eddy

“The River can kill you in a thousand ways.” ~ Paul Serone, Anaconda

As I stood on the banks of the Deschutes River in Central Oregon staring into the jaws of what I assumed would be certain death, it was Jon Voight’s voice I heard above the roar of the rapids. His infamous line from one of the worst horror flicks of all time, Anaconda, kept repeating over and in my head. There were other voices in my head that day, too, voices that screamed: “Run fool, run!”

Let me start by explaining that I’m a bit phobic when it comes to the water. I get nervous if the bathtub’s too full. But my desire to be a “fun mom” to our three sons forced me to set aside my phobia and book our family’s first white water rafting trip. So there I was, facing Class III rapids that made my heart beat faster than Trump can tap a tweet.

Our family had never been white water rafting, but our boys were anxious to try it. After some exhaustive internet research, I found Sun Country Tours in Sunriver, Oregon. They offered an entry level three hour excursion known as The Big Eddy Thriller. Sun Country’s website boasted rave reviews and photos of happy families giggling like fools as they plunged into the frothy white torrent. We, too, could be happy giggling fools, and all for the low, low price of only $60 each!

On the morning of the excursion, we arrived at the Sun Country offices in high spirits. Our boys spilled out of the van like happy puppies, anxious for the adventure ahead. At that moment it felt great to be the “fun mom.” The moment wouldn’t last long.

At the front desk, an athletic-looking young man greeted us with a stack of legal forms. “What is all this?” I asked my husband as we leafed through the paperwork. “We’re signing away our rights to sue them if anything goes hideously wrong,” he said.

Oh, snap! Shit just got real.

As I watched each of my boys sign away their rights on the dotted line, I felt my first tingling of trepidation. What kind of mother lets her kids do this? The fun kind, of course!

Once the paperwork was complete, we boarded a rickety school bus that would drive us 45 minutes north to the Deschutes National Forest. There we’d be paired with a guide and dropped into the Upper Deschutes River.

I watched the other passengers for signs of fear or concern. If anyone was nervous, they were covering it well. People chatted and laughed, seemingly unconcerned about what was to come. The sunny weather slowly gave way to overcast skies, and a light rain began to fall. I took this as an ominous sign.

I turned anxiously to my husband and asked, “Are you looking forward to this?” He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “It’ll be a blast.” I found this of little comfort as the closest my husband had been to rafting was riding Splash Mountain at Disneyland.

After bumping our way through the forest for a few miles, the bus finally came to a halt. The driver pointed to a path and told us in broken English that we were to follow it down to the river.

Dutifully we tromped down the switchbacks to a clearing where a team of professional guides and six large yellow rafts awaited us. One young man was handing out life jackets, and I lunged at him as if we were about to board the Titanic.

We were assigned a tour guide and a raft. Our guide, Patrick, was a small, wiry guy who looked barely old enough to shave. I’d pictured someone more like Thor steering us down the river, someone who possessed the upper body strength to pull a hysterical woman from the swirling rapids. I gulped but said nothing, afraid to expose my chicken heart and lose my fun mom cred.

Our raft had a few seats left, so Patrick assigned two additional passengers to our group; Ava and her 19-year-old daughter Tiffany, or as I dubbed them; Sporty Spice and Baby Spice.

Dripping in Nike athleisure wear Sporty Spice was nothing short of an Amazon, complete with rippling biceps, perfect white teeth and a thick blonde mane. Sporty introduced herself locking my hand in a vice-grip. I tried not to wince as she crushed most of the 27 bones in my hand.

You know those buddy comedies where they match two physical opposites? That was Sporty Spice and me. I was the Jonah Hill to her Channing Tatum. Sporty was the alpha-female, a blond Xena Warrior Princess, while I was the poser in cheap aqua shoes and a tattered baseball cap.

Sporty Spice offered to take the bow position as she was an “experienced power rower.”

Of course, she was.

“These Class III Rapids are child’s play,” Sporty scoffed. “I’ve been down class V rapids; you wear a helmet for those.”

Our guide Patrick seemed overly impressed, confessing he’d never even seen Class V rapids. This exchange did nothing to boost my confidence in him. It looked as though our lives would be in the hands of Sporty Spice. I prayed she was as tough as she looked.

Before climbing into our raft, Patrick announced the middle seat was open. It was the safest spot in the boat and came with a panic strap. My hand shot up. “I’ll take it if no one else wants it!” I offered a little too quickly. My boys shook their heads.

Uncool.

I’d outed myself as the chicken of the group. I wanted to be the brave mom but let’s face it; Sporty Spice had that job locked down. “You’ll be fine,” Sporty said slapping me on the back so hard that I gagged on my gum.

We shoved off and eased downriver toward the first group of Class I Rapids. They were a snap. I began to relax and unclenched a little. Next up were the Class II Rapids. These were a little wilder but thrilling, and our team navigated them with ease.

Between rapids, Patrick pointed out various lava rock formations, Osprey nests and other local points of interest. My boys were having a blast, smiles all around. Fun mom comes through again! I was beginning to think this white water rafting thing was a piece of cake. But that feeling would be fleeting.

As we rounded the bend, Patrick announced we’d be going ashore to scout the upcoming Class III Rapids so that he could explain some necessary maneuvers. Securing our raft, we trudged through the water and hiked uphill into the forest to get a better view of the rapids below.

When I first laid eyes on those rapids, I froze. I was unable to conceive that my entire family, would momentarily be careening down them on what amounted to a flimsy rubber sheet.

These were nothing like the rapids we’d experienced. What lay before us was a churning, roaring torrent of water, a river wild, thunderous and dangerous with sheer drops at every turn. My stomach began to percolate.

As everyone eagerly gathered to view the river, I hung back reviewing my options. I could walk back to Sunriver, sure it was a 30-mile trek, and I was in the middle of the freaking Deschutes Forest but what was my alternative? Panic set in. I was trapped. There was only one way out, and it was over those churning rapids.

Suddenly I didn’t give a rat’s ass about being fun or cool or brave. I was the chicken mom and would embrace it wholeheartedly!

While I kvetched, Patrick explained how to stay afloat on the rapids if thrown from the raft. My mouth went dry, and I clutched Patrick’s arm. “Do you mean we might go down the rapids….without the raft?” Patrick patted my hand and assured me that many people claim it’s the best part of their trip.

What???

Nowhere on Sun Country’s website did it claim “You’ll have a jolly old time when you’re tossed from the raft and sail down the rapids on your ass.” To add to my anxiety, Patrick began checking our life jackets, because as he put it, “If not tightly cinched, the river could rip them from our bodies.”

Was this guy messing with us?

Suddenly our happy family rafting trip had turned into The River Wild, Anaconda and Deliverance all rolled into one. I could almost hear the strains of banjo music wafting through the breeze.

“The river can kill you in a thousand ways.”

“You seem a little nervous, Pam,” Patrick said cinching my life jacket. I nodded vigorously, unable to contain my mounting fear. “Did the profuse sweating, dilated pupils, and dry heaving tip you off?” I asked. Patrick merely smiled and reassured me we’d be okay.

Having no other option, I hoisted myself back into the raft, grabbed ahold of the panic strap, and put on a brave face. “Okay, let’s do this thing!” I barked.

As we shoved off the embankment, Patrick threw out one last warning. “Whatever happens — stay away from the jagged lava rocks, they’ll shred our raft.”

I threw up in my mouth. Just a little.

Oars poised we headed downriver and into the gaping maw of the rapids. Our group navigated the first two sets of rapids with precision, dodging and weaving through the heavy water. The last of the Class III Rapids lay before us. Every muscle in my body was clenched and ready for the drops and turns we were about to face.

We took the first drop and found ourselves heading directly into a solid wall of water. The wave crashed over us, drenching us and sending our boat directly toward the jagged rocks. The jagged rocks Patrick had just warned would “shred our raft.”

There was a moment of quiet panic as, collectively, we realized we were about to get deeply screwed. In a split second, Patrick was yelling commands. “Back, back, row back! NOW!”

Without an oar, I felt helpless and having nothing else constructive to do I repeated Patrick’s directives. “Back! Back! Back!” I shrieked. Sporty Spice sprang into action, rowing backward with the strength of ten Amazons, plus two!

Thanks to teamwork we narrowly avoided the jagged rocks. Once out of harm’s way we could relax and enjoy the rest of our tour. We bounced through the final group of Class II Rapids and pulled ashore where our bus awaited us. The trip was over. We’d made it.

Once ashore Sporty Spice asked me how I liked my first white water rafting experience. I had to be honest, as phobic as I am, it was unforgettable. And now that I was safely on dry land I could admit that it had been thrilling.

That day on the Deschutes I came face to face with my worst fear. I had no way out, no way back and no choice but to forge ahead. Fear is part of being human, but sacrifice is part of being a mom. In the end, my desire to create an unforgettable memory for my boys outweighed my chicken heart. I’m not saying I managed it with any amount of dignity or aplomb. But at least I DID it.

Now that they’ve had a taste, my boys can’t wait to go white water rafting again. They’re busy planning next year’s trip; a half day excursion down Class IV Rapids. Will I go? Of course! What else would a fun mom do?