#had to help them with a landslide incident

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Just got home

I didn't do as much work as the rangers but holy fuck everything hurts

Won't be at the gym today catch me tomorrow

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

WHUMPCEMBER DAY 17

Greatest fear

TW: buried alive

It had been over 3 186 minutes by no. 3 187.

Whumpee had lost count several times, so it was likely much longer, but counting was the only thing connecting him to the outside world. To hope.

So many minutes... It was something like three days. He didn't think his oxygen supply would last for so long... He had expected something like 48 hours at most. Especially with all his screaming and pleading in the beginning.

He shifted in the cramped space, wincing as his stiffened joints ached from the lack of movement. The planks were digging into his back, and if he took a deep breath, he could feel them touch his chest too.

Whumpee really hoped his friends were close to finding him, because otherwise he would lose his mind before dying.

Regularly, his breathing would accelerate as he would panic and sob, and kick, and trash. All of that for nothing, but he couldn't help it. And then he would calm down, and remember to save his oxygen.

The situation reminded him of the incident that made him stop speleology. When him and his buddy had been stuck in a landslide for several hours, before the rescue team found them. He survived, his friend did not.

But this time, he hadn't chosen to be here. And he couldn't help but scream for nonexistent help again, feeling the air slowly becoming stale in his lungs.

@whumpcember

[goldendiie]

the confessional

Or: an exploration of Sarge's religion in The Third Blink AU. (Repost of something I deleted from my AO3).

The mid-September air was thick and sweet with the smell of harvest, chilled by the early tides of Autumn. The stars would have been beautiful on a night like this, if anyone had been looking. The Parson County High School football field was cast under bright-white light: the first in the line of regional games had just finished in a landslide win, as usual.

Willie Jones was seventeen. The autumn of his senior year had been good to him, so far. He cared little for his schoolwork, these days: he’d much rather spend his time on the football field, or raccoon hunting with his friends. That’s what high school was for, he figured: enjoying youth while he still had it, unconcerned with his future.

He collected his gear, shoving it into an aged duffel bag. As he left the locker room, he carried it over his shoulder, with his helmet and shoulder pads in his opposite hand. He thought idly about what would happen when his team inevitably won the championship. Perhaps they would be deemed the best high school football team in Ohio; for a moment, he fantasized about winning nationals.

“Hey, Jones!” Someone called to his left.

He turned. Gerry Oswald, the starting quarterback, waved him down. He was tall and broad-shouldered, bigger than any of the other guys on the team. Willie crossed the parking lot to join him.

“We’re going to get a twelve-pack and go cruising,” Gerry said, “Want to come?”

Willie looked past him, to the small group of people that would evidently be tagging along. Most were football players, and all were seniors.

“Won’t your dad have something to say about you keeping the truck out late?” Willie asked.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” Gerry said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

The gesture sent shockwaves down Willie’s spine. His mind was terrifyingly blank, and his skin buzzed where Gerry’s hand had anchored.

“I, uh… I better not,” he managed. He came up with some half-assed excuse. “I told my dad I’d help him out around the auto shop, tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be hungover.”

“You’re lame, Jones.” Gerry moved his hand, and scuffed up Willie’s hair; afterwards, it fell back to his side. “Tell you what—We’ll drop by your house in a couple of hours. Maybe you’ll quit being such a square by then.”

“If you really want to,” Willie said. He offered a smile. “I doubt I’ll change my mind, though.”

Gerry was already walking away. “Think about it, Jones.”

Willie deflated, trying his hardest not to watch him walk away. He forced himself to turn, walking back toward his hand-me-down Jeep. His skin still buzzed from where Gerry had touched him; his mind began to wander, but he stopped it before it went too far.

The steering wheel was cold to touch, but it thankfully grounded him. He fumbled through the console for his pack of Newports, and was quick to light one up.

Incidents like this—the touch, the strange yearning, the terrible, awful feeling that sat in his gut—had become more frequent in the past months. He wished that things were different; but, as a realist, he knew that they weren’t. There was a bright neon sign that flashed in the back of his mind, but Willie simply chose not to look at it.

Silently, he smoked his cigarette. Across the parking lot, he could see Gerry and the others crowding into an old pickup truck. If he listened hard enough, he could hear their laughter.

Distantly, he regretted not joining them. It would have been fun; but frankly, he did not trust himself to be drunk around everyone else. All it would take was another touch of the hand, another gesture…

No. It wasn’t good to think like that. It wasn’t normal.

Willie fit the key into the ignition, and put the Jeep into gear. As he drove away, he shoved every bad thought into the back of his mind, where they fit very neatly into an unlabeled mental box.

. . .

Six days later, Willie told his parents that he was going to take a walk to the corner store. He politely declined when his twin brother, Wade, offered to tag along; “I’ll be quick,” he said, “I’m just going to buy a new lighter.”

It was a beautiful evening, the kind that only came around toward at the very beginning of fall. The sky was pink, and the air was still and cool. Leaves crunched under his boots as he walked, and he resisted the urge to light a cigarette.  

He walked two blocks, stopping outside of a church. He stared at its door for several moments, struggling to find his courage: his family had attended this church every Sunday for longer than he could remember. Silently, he prayed that the priest would not recognize his voice.

The door creaked as Willie entered. Despite the evening, a light was on in the confession box.

Hesitantly, Willie approached. His heart pounded in his chest as he opened the door and stepped inside. He breathed deeply, struggling to calm himself.

His voice was a near whisper as he spoke. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he said. “It has been three years since my last confession.”

“Welcome,” the priest hummed. “What do you have to confess?”

“I…” Willie took a deep, shuddering breath. “I… I can’t—”

“God will forgive you.”

“I’m… I think I’m a homosexual,” he croaked. “I’ve had… impure thoughts, about other boys in my class.” He finished, quietly: “For this and all my sins, I’m sorry.”

“Have you acted on this?” The priest asked.

“No,” Willie said. He added, silently, never.

“Then you have not sinned, my child,” The priest said; his voice sounded as though he was smiling. “You are simply weathering another of God’s tests. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Willie stared blankly at the wall across from him. “… What?”

“You have not sinned unless you’ve acted upon it,” The priest clarified, kindly. “Lead not into temptation, child.”

Quietly, the priest ended the confessional. Perhaps he was meant to be stuck with this burden; God wanted him to live a normal life, despite whatever he felt. They key was, of course, to never act on it.

. . .

It wasn’t that Willie lost his religion when he enlisted. Quite the opposite, actually: he knew that God watched over him in Vietnam, and he knew that he was ensured safe passage home. Really, he had neglected to go to church for convenience’s sake: he was not terribly worried about his eternity, in the little time that he had to himself.

He ended up as a quartermaster in Arizona, far into the desert. He liked it there: the weather was always warm, and it hardly ever rained. It certainly made boot camps a little bit difficult, but he believed that it was better training, anyway.

Soldiers held confessionals at small-town bars: between pulls of whiskey, they spoke of their lives overseas. I saw what happened in Phuoc Tuy, a young man would say; or, I cheated on my wife with a prostitute in Saigon.

Willie (or, rather, Sarge—as most people called him, these days) never joined in their religious ceremonies. He observed from afar, listening. He resigned himself to keeping his secrets to himself; he was not keen on being cast out from the group.

Besides: his memories of Gerry Oswald after the regional football game were something he liked to keep to himself. It was a grim reminder of who he was, what he was; another of God’s tests.

. . .

“Cigarette?”

There was man—beautiful, young, with flowers in his hair and beads hanging from his neck—offering an open pack of Marlboro Reds. Sarge took one, despite himself. He’d been trying to quit.

He replied, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Sarge was twenty-three, and it had been five years since his last confession. He tried desperately to remind himself of temptation, but failed miserably.

Instead, he was occupied by the heavenly man that shared his cigarettes. His name was Fillmore. He was nineteen years old, and he’d dropped out of college to open a business. He protested the war in Vietnam, smoked marijuana, and believed in Free Love.

Together, they stood outside of one of the bars on the Radiator Springs downtown strip. They had been drinking together—not a lot, just a few beers—and Fillmore had wanted to step outside of a smoke. Sarge could nearly feel the tides of addiction upon him; he joined him for a cigarette far more often than he should.

“You still haven’t told me,” Fillmore was saying, puffing smoke. “Why didn’t you go to college? I mean, you had that football scholarship, and everything…”

“I didn’t want to,” Sarge replied. “I liked the military more.”

“Weird, man,” Fillmore whistled. “I wonder what you would’ve been like. More jock-ish, I guess.”

He was nearly enchanting in the evening light. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with kind eyes and a nice smile. He appeared to chuckle to himself as he took another pull from his smoke; with his eyes turned elsewhere, Sarge found it incredibly easy to stare. He fixated on the curve of his collarbone underneath his shirt, the way his fingers curved as they held his cigarette, how his brown hair fell into his eyes whenever he ducked his head.

A bite from the apple of Eden had led to the creation of humanity.

. . .

Sarge’s mind burned against the inside of his skull as Fillmore walked him home after the fireworks show. His lips buzzed where Fillmore had kissed them, barely an hour earlier; he was certain that he looked disheveled, kiss-swollen and blushing. Oh, how he wished it to continue: he wondered what Fillmore would taste like in the dark and without clothes, how they might touch each other then. Their sin might become holy through the sacrament of free love.

“Listen,” Fillmore spoke (and, Sarge wished that he could listen to his voice forever). “I, uh… If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Sarge nodded, unable to bring himself to speak.

“For anything,” Fillmore continued. “Like, uh…” he laughed softly looking away. “Anything.”

“Okay,” Sarge managed.

They stopped outside of his motel room door. The space between them crackled with electricity; it was almost as though a sort of chemical reaction would take place, if they stood together for too long.

“Goodnight,” Fillmore said, voice barely above a whisper.

Come inside, Sarge wanted to say. Let me have this.

Instead, he echoed: “Goodnight.”

The motel room door felt more like a mental barrier than anything else. Outside, there was Fillmore: beautiful, tragically attractive, kiss burning like cigarette ashes on bare fingers. Inside, Sarge was alone with his thoughts: Lead not into temptation: deliver us from Evil.

Temptation lived across the street, in a multicolored geodome. He smelled like smoke, listened to rock and roll, and dropped acid. Temptation had wandering hands and pearlescent teeth, and kissed like he really meant it.

. . .

Perhaps his dishonorable discharge from the military was God’s way of punishing him. It certainly seemed that way, when everything in Sarge’s life was going wrong.

That’s why he found it so, incredibly easy to give in to proverbial temptation. He slept with Fillmore, very shortly after everything happened. If God had already forsaken him, then there was no returning. It was strange, really, for something so incredible to be considered unholy.

The terror of it all caught up to him eventually. You have not sinned unless you act upon it.

He spilled his heart on accident, begging Fillmore to understand: It’s not normal—none of this is! This wasn’t supposed to happen—not to me, not to you, not to anyone…!

“It’s wrong, you know that?” he finished, breathless. “It’s wrong.”

Fillmore looked back at him earnestly. His devil-horns were missing, now; he looked back at Sarge apologetically, sympathetically.

“It’s not wrong,” Fillmore said quietly. “It’s just… human nature.” He offered a smile, squeezing Sarge’s hand, “There’s nothing wrong about love.”

. . .

“I think I prayed for you,” Fillmore was saying, in his trademark corniness. “I asked for happiness, and I ended up with you.”

Sarge wouldn’t exactly call it dating, but he would call it love. It was tumultuous and rocky—never perfect—but it was theirs. He’d been seeing Fillmore for the better part of three years, now. It had never felt like sinning.

Sarge began to think that his personal heaven was something like this: sitting close to one another, sharing a cigarette, talking quietly. He would exist in these moments forever, if he could.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” Sarge finally replied.

“I don’t,” Fillmore said. He rested his head back on the pillow, sighing heavily. “You know there’s other stuff to pray to, right?”

“… Such as?”

Fillmore looked back at him as though it was obvious. “The universe,” he replied. “Who do you think controls the tarot cards?”

“I don’t think tarot cards are real, in the first place.”

“Ugh. Whatever, man.”

Though they had their issues, Sarge did love him. This is something that he would not deny: sometimes, he liked to think that they would grow old together. Perhaps they’d still play their drinking games at the local bar, or they’d do the Sunday crossword together down at the diner. But they’d still be them, through everything.

That, in itself, was enough to put Sarge at ease. Perhaps this was worth it, between heaven and hell combined.

Lord, Fillmore was certainly rubbing off on him.

. . .

Parson County, Ohio, had gone largely unchanged in the years that Sarge was gone. The high school had begun to fall into a state of slight disrepair, and the downtown strip had aged considerably; though, frankly, it probably always looked like that.

He had not returned to his family home since he left for his second tour in Vietnam, now about six years ago. It looked mostly as he remembered it: painted blue, with white shutters and a picket fence, and enough room for the dogs to run outside. His childhood bedroom had gone unchanged as well: football pennants and photographs still hung from the walls, and his bookbag was still discarded in the corner.

Family dinner was something he had somewhat dreaded, upon his return. His father stared calculatingly at him, one eyebrow raised.

“So, you’ve been out of the military for three years,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“You haven’t settled down with anyone, have you?” His father looked at him knowingly, “No old lady helping out around that surplus shop of yours?”

Sarge swallowed thickly. “No,” he said, and it was only a partial lie.

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, unconvinced, “Well, we’re waiting on some grandchildren, so—"

“Thomas,” His mother interrupted dotingly.

. . .

That evening, Sarge returned to the church. It loomed over him imposingly; the door creaked in the same fashion as he entered, and the light in the confession booth was still on.

This time, he did not go to the booth: instead, he approached the pulpit, looking up to the crucified statue of Jesus. It stared back at him almost expectantly, as though it was waiting for him to atone. He did not pretend to pray; in fact, he’d probably forgotten how.

He thought of Gerry Oswald, of Fillmore, of smoking cigarettes and the dull flame of a Zippo lighter. He thought of confessionals in boxes and bars, and acting upon temptation.

I have not sinned by loving.

[morgueofstories]

Dark Farfadream Royalty AU

So the Dark Farfadream Royalty AU won by a landslide so I will be talking about that. Be warned this will contain some dark themes like non/con, torture, miscarriage mentions, and just Dream going through the wringer for this idea

TW mentions of rape, miscarriage, and torture in graphic detail read at your own risk

Farfadox is the Demon King who came out victorious in a war against the kingdom of Essempi. To not have the kingdom destroyed, the nobles agree to a list of demands the Demon King has given them, one of the demands being they give him a bride because his previous spouse died and he has no heirs to his throne.

On the final day before departure, Farfadox is handed his bride who he notices is dressed in a wedding dress too big that covers the bride completely. The bride has a veil covering their face but Farfadox can see that his bride-to-be is trembling in fear as they are pushed into the Demon King's arms, ignoring the snide remarks from the soldiers who brought him his bride, he lifts the veil covering their face to see beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears staring back at him. His bride's face is heavily scarred but to Farfadox, his bride is one of the most beautiful people in the world he has seen

OR

Dream, Essempi's princess turned prince has been locked away in prison after his family was overthrown and executed by the NotFound family with him only being alive due to the NotFound family's son who took an interest in him. After an incident, Dream was tortured and assaulted for many years until he was given to Farfadox being told he wouldn't even survive the first night

Side Notes:

Dream is trans but he was misgendered during his imprisonment and when he is offered to Farfadox he doesn't bother trying to correct him whenever Farfadox addresses him as a 'she'

The reason why Farfadox wasn't enraged when Dream was given to him as his bride after being told Dream was a prisoner is that in demon culture it's not uncommon for their people to sometimes marry slaves; Farfadox's father was a gladiator slave before his mother married him

During his time imprisoned, Dream was impregnated against his will and had multiple kids which are Ranboo (kicked out of the house at a young age due to how 'different' he looked and now lives in the forest at the edge of a village), Connor (living in fear with his dad who is a raging alcoholic), Hannah and Tina (half-sisters who are constantly abused by their stepmother but their half-sister Sylvee tries her best to keep them safe even if it means taking the brunt of her mother's abuse) and Yogurt (who was actually the only consensual pregnancy Dream had with Fundy after Fundy was forced by his dad Wilbur to sleep with Dream)

The reason why Dream was saved from being executed was because George had seen Dream once as a kid and wanted him as his wife, so another kid was executed in Dream's place. Over the course of a year after the rebellion he gets close to Dream and when he tries to initiate sex Dream gets scared, lashes out and on accident breaks George's nose; this then leads to Dream getting raped by George, beaten by some knights who then are given permission to use him as they see fit

Before Dream is sent off to Farfadox, he is gang-raped for hours and was told he was sent off because he couldn't produce any more kids so Dream doesn't say a word to Farfadox about the assault until a couple months later he wakes up feeling nauseous and finds out he is pregnant (it's George's kid) but loses the baby a couple weeks later

Techno is Dream's Godfather and emperor of the Antartic Empire, a small kingdom. He was devastated when he heard of the rebellion and execution but he couldn't declare war as his kingdom was smaller and not as powerful compared to Essempi

Farfadox and Dream eventually work things out and Dream gets all the help he needs to fully heal and a couple years later the two have sex and eventually Dream gets pregnant with twins

My inbox is open for asks so feel free to ask me anything about this au as this is one that I've been fleshing out for a while and will publish after Wither Roses is done

[monsoon-of-art]

Donut Hole - Chapter 15

Two Time

I'm out on the block again (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) So hopped up that I can't pretend (Ooh) Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend (Oh) Hands up, feel okay (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Whose heart could I break today? Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend

[Big long chapter for you guys to snack on!] [ao3 Link!]

The two clan leaders met on the path to Jubilife.

“Good morning, Irida.”

“There is little good about it.”

Adaman smirked a little at this. “Oh, Sinnoh forbid you had to wake up early-”

“There was an accident at my settlement.” she said, the coldness in her voice immediately made Adaman regret his joking quip.

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Is it an overstep to ask what happened?”

“Yes. Yes it would be.”

They may have been working together to quell the nobles with the Galaxy Team, but things were still…frosty.

But Adaman wasn’t one to give up. “Just as well.” he said, arms crossed over his chest, his tone casual. “We’ve had issues as well. Currently half of our settlement is buried under mud from a landslide.”

“But it’s not the season for landslides?” Irida said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“I know. There was…an incident.” he explained. “That's why I’m here, to seek the aid of the Galaxy team. My people can’t handle the frenzied nobles and the aftermath of a landslide.”

Irida was silent for a moment. “...there was a fire. A very bad one. I am here to discuss options-”

“It was the boy, wasn’t it?”

She shot him a surprised look. “How did you-?!”

Adaman shook his head. “Call it a hunch. And between you me, that kid was behind the landslide. He’s been running my poor people ragged. He ruined Iscan’s tent, and he even bit Arezu.”

“He bit her?” she repeated, “I suppose we’re lucky he only caused a fire.”

“That you know of. He’s still in the Icelands, right? Pray your precious mentor can handle him!”

“Well he handled Palina, Lian, and I-” she shook her head. “We are getting off topic. My people need to rebuild, and my Wardens cannot afford any more of their time. He already rattled Ingo something fierce. He won’t tell us what Berry said to him, but it’s clearly bothering him-”

“Well. Then we are here for the same reason.” Adaman drawled. “That kid needs help. And we don’t have the time -”

“- or space -”

“- to do anything about it. But Jubilife should be able to help, right? I’d hate to ask, but this seems like their…thing. They took Dawn in, what’s one more wayward child, right?”

Irida grimaced. “Argh. Dawn. Should we tell her?”

He waved her off. “Nah. Poor girl has so much on her plate already. She doesn’t have to worry about some…feral kid.”

As the two approached the gates, who else but Dawn ran out to greet them. Despite themselves, both Adaman and Irida smiled.

Despite the circumstances of their previous meetings, both of them had grown quite fond of the girl. 

She was a sweet little thing, kind and quiet. Every warden she had previous interactions with spoke highly of her (aside from Melli). And her way with pokemon, while terrifying, was equally as endearing. She really did love them.

“Irida! Adaman! It’s so good to see you!” she chirped upon seeing them, running up and around them like an energetic shinx. “I caught the most AMAZING pokemon yesterday! You have to see him!”

“Oh, I would love to under normal circumstances.” Adaman said, sounding genuinely disappointed. The last time she wanted to show them ‘an amazing pokemon’, it was the Alpha Sliggoo from the mirelands. “However, we must meet with the Commander. Time is short-”

“Oh, come now, Adaman. I am sure your Almighty Sinnoh won’t mind you spending a few moments to entertain her. Besides, I was told to offer well wishes from Ingo.” scolded Irida. “We would love to see your Pokemon, Dawn.”

Dawn’s grin split ear to ear. “I found him on the Coastlands yesterday, and he’s beeeeautiful!”

(Irida was almost positive it would be a Gastrdon. Adaman had his bets on a Drapion.)

Dawn presented the two with a buizel, slightly smaller than average. But the main thing was the color; this particular buizel was a pale yellow, its collar a brilliant white.

“Look! Look! It has different colors!” she squealed, hugging the pokemon tight. “He’s one-in-a-million! He’s absolutely perfect, and we’re going to be best of friends!”

���Wow, I’ve never seen a buizel like that!” Adaman said, looking it up and down. “And I bet you’ll take good care of it.”

“Back home, my bestest friend in the whole world had a buizel.” Dawn said, voice barely above a whisper.

Adaman and Irida shared a look. Dawn rarely, if ever, spoke about her time before Hisui. 

“Yeah?” Irida asked, more than a little curious. “What was he like?”

The dam burst, and Dawn began happily telling the pair everything. 

“Well, we were neighbors, and we went to school together! From the very beginning!” she began, swinging the buizel in her arms like a stuffed toy, practically bouncing in place. “None of the other kids liked him because he talked and talked, but I liked hearing him talk!”

(Irida and Adaman wanted to interject and ask questions, but there was no stopping her now.)

“And we’d go on adventures! We traveled really far! He was always a step ahead of me, but he’d always make sure to wait! And when my bike broke, he’d let me sit behind him on his bike and he’d take me places! We’d share food! He loved- he-he loved-”

The joy in her voice was quickly souring. She had stopped bouncing. Adaman and Irida had noticed the shift, and even the buizel in her arms seemed to be aware.

“H-He loved pecha berries. An-And whenever we’d eat, I-I’d give him my berries. We-We got our pokemon together. W-We were side…side by side…always…always… and…a-and I miss hiimmmmmm…”

Dawn melted into a blubbery, weeping, whining mess, crying into the buizel’s fur. Immediately, Adaman and Irida knelt by her side, trying to comfort her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, no need for tears now.” Irida cooed, petting the girl’s hair. 

Adaman put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m certain you’ll see him again, Dawn. It sounds like you were the best of friends, and I doubt that Almighty Sinnoh would tear you two apart.”

Dawn wiped at her face, still holding the confused buizel in one arm. “I-I named this buizel after him, a-after an inside joke, where we’d call a buizel ‘Barry’ and I-I’d call my friend ‘Human-Barry’, h-he never thought it was funny-”

“Dawn.” Irida said, an anxious tremor in her voice. “What was your friend’s name again?”

“Barry.” she repeated. “His name is Barry.”

“And…what did he look like?” Irida continued, suddenly looking very pale.

Dawn sniffled a little, the strangeness of the question seemingly distracting her from her sadness. “He…he was slightly taller than me. And blonde, with hair that tended to spike up, no matter how hard he tried. And he loved his green scarf, because he thought it made him look like his dad-”

“His father. What was his father’s name?” Irida continued the questioning, slipping into her ‘leader’ tone of voice.

“Uhm. Palmer?” Dawn squirmed, leaning closer to Adaman. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Irida, back off a little.”

She did so, hesitantly, flitting back like a spooked starly. “I-I apologize, Dawn. This must be hard for you.” She grabbed Adaman’s arm, starting to pull him away. “W-We really must be going now-”

He spun around, confused. “But what about Kamado-”

“I. Need. To Talk. To You. Remember?” Irida said through grit teeth, glancing at Dawn. “Alone.”

Irida dragged him away, giving poor, confused Dawn a polite wave as she did so.

Once a decent distance - out of Dawn’s earshot anyway - Adaman yanked his arm out of Irida’s grip. “Look, is all this really necessary-”

“The Boy that has caused so much havoc. He appeared out of nowhere, with clothing not native to Hisui, with the innate ability to tame pokemon?” Irida hissed through grit teeth. “Sound familiar?”

Adaman blinked. “...Ingo?”

“No! It-” Irida took a moment to stare vacantly into space, processing. “...maybe. Not what I was going for. We’ll put a pin in that.”

Adaman tried again. “You can’t be saying the Boy is the same as Dawn’s friend Barry. What if you’re wrong? Would you be willing to break a little girl’s heart by raising her hopes like that?”

“I’ve seen him. You haven’t. He’s a blonde little boy with spiky hair and a green scarf! Although granted, he looks as though he’s been dragged through dozens of mud puddles - You cannot deny these coincidences!”

“But what if they’re just that? Just coincidences?”

“What if they aren’t?!”

“What if they are?!” Adaman shook his head. “We are going in circles. What do you suggest?”

"We bring Barry to Jubilife. By any means necessary. If he is not Dawn's friend, then the Galaxy Team can take care of him at the least." Irida said. "We'll drag him here if needed."

"That I can agree on. Should we tell Kamado?"

Irida hesitated. Adaman didn't answer either. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two.

Adaman finally answered for her. "...so that's a no. Let's get Barry here first. And we'll explain along the way. I'll tell my Wardens. I still believe this to be nothing more than a series of unfortunate coincidences."

"And I believe you to be a fool."

---

When Barry finally woke, most of the egg pokemon were gone. A few chansey and happiny lingered, but the rest of the herd had left.

He awoke to a shrill noise, one that annoyed him initially, but after a moment caused alarm.

It was crying. 

Barry sprang to his feet, ignoring the confused noises of his team, the aching in his legs, and the cold starting to seep into his bones.

“Someone’s in trouble-!” he muttered as he darted across the frozen, snowy wastes. “Someone’s in trouble! Someone’s in trouble!”

The crying grew louder, enough for Barry to realize it wasn’t a baby or child crying. It was a pokemon cry, but that did very little to dissuade him.

Finally he crested a hill, seeing the source; a little snover, wailing and crying as it tried to pull its foot out of a snare trap.

Barry felt his blood start to boil.

What heartless, absolute dickhead of a person would set traps for pokemon like this? Didn’t they have pokeballs? Unless…Unless they were going to kill this snover.

He carefully approached. “Hey, hey buddy. I’m here to help!” he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

The snover whined, trying to squirm away. “It’s OK buddy, I’m gonna let you go now. But don’t freak out.” Barry reached into his pocket for his knife, leaning forward to cut the trap.

The pokemon whined louder, fearing the knife in his hands, but the snover seemed to settle when it noticed Barry was cutting the trap and not at it. It even allowed Barry to cut the twine wrapped around its foot.

“There! You’re free!”

Barry was caught off guard when the snover almost tackled the boy in a hug. But he returned it as best as he could, if a little awkward. “Yeah! You’re welcome buddy! You’re free!”

When he let go, the snover continued to stare up at him. And when he started to walk back, the snover started to follow.

“Oh, you are. Coming with me.” said Barry, seeing the snover waddling behind him with determination. “How does this keep happening to me?”

Barry - with snover in tow - returned to the dug out cave where his confused pokemon were waiting for him. “So uh. I found this guy.” he glanced at the snover. “...girl. Unsure. But I think they’re gonna stick around!”

His pokemon chittered amongst themselves, as if discussing their new companion. Barry turned to the snover. “Well? Got any neat tricks or anything?”

The snover paused, looking down at the ground, thoughtful. Then, around its midsection, small white berries began to form. Once they were the size of a strawberry, the snover plucked one and handed it to Barry.

Barry didn’t hesitate in popping the berry into his mouth. It had the texture of frozen yogurt, and it tasted mildly sweet.

“...I’m gonna call you Snacks.”

The now-named Snacks gave an appreciative croon. But then it glanced down at its foot, red and swollen from the snare trap. Barry also gave it a glance with a frown. “...I bet there’s oran berries around here.”

Rummaging in his bag, Barry said, “Alright team, slight detour while we look for oran berries for-”

He paused, realizing that Fern and Pest did not technically have pokeballs. That was very dangerous, especially now that Barry had no way to carry Fern if they were injured.

Returning to his bag, he pulled out one of the remaining great balls and pokeball. “Fern, you have seniority, so you get first pick. Which one do ya want?”

Fern trilled, shaking its head. “No, c’mon. You need a pokeball for emergencies. If you get hurt I can’t drag you to a pokemon center. I won’t even keep you in it, but you need one!”

With this reassurance, Fern relented. As its paw hovered over the great ball, Barry quickly snatched it back. “Actually I want Pest in the great ball. I want the colors to match. You’re kinda red, Fern!”

Giving the boy an annoyed glance, Fern picked up the pokeball, carefully turning it over in its hands. Satisfied, Fern tapped the pokeball to its forehead, allowing itself to be captured.

(Pest thought it was a game, dodging the pokeball for a time, but he too, allowed himself to be captured.)

Upholding his promise, Barry released the two as soon as they were registered to their respective pokeballs. “Alright! Let’s start looking for some berries, then we can get back to the mountain! Spread out, but don’t go too far!”

Mystery cawed and cawed, gesturing to something behind the boy.

Glancing over his shoulder, Barry saw a little sitrus berry, set in the snow just beyond the dug-out entrance. And beyond the sitrus berry was another. And another. And another. Dozens of sitrus berries in a neat little line, leading off to…somewhere.

“That’s…odd.”

Normally, Barry would be very suspicious. If anything, this looked like a trap from a cartoon. But this wasn’t a cartoon, and he sincerely hoped that Team Galactic didn’t think he was this stupid.

There was no chance this was one of Team Galatic’s tricks. No, it must’ve been the chanseys! Trying to lead him somewhere.

So Barry and his odd little companions followed the trail of berries. He made sure his pokemon got their fill in this unexpected berry feast before tucking them away in his bag for later.

If he squinted, Barry could see the trail of yellow and blue berries snaking through the snow, twisting around a group of enormous icy spires. Maybe that’s where the blissey and chansey normally lived?

He was finding it a bit harder to cling on to his ‘chansey’ theory, especially as the giant ice blocks loomed above them all…

Fern too, seemed to sense something he didn’t. It stuck to Barry’s side, eyes darting about. His other pokemon were still collecting berries without a care.

After crossing between two massive pillars, Fern froze. As if standing steps away from a threshold of some kind, Fern refused to take a step further.

“...buddy?” Barry whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Then, Barry made the unfortunate mistake - or perhaps very fortunate mistake - of looking behind them.

There was a Magmortar clearly stalking them. Following the trail of footsteps they had left in the snow, obviously trying not to be seen.

Barry felt his heart skip a beat.

This was a trap, wasn't it.

“Don’t take anymore berries.” Barry hissed, keeping the magmortar in the corner of his vision. “We need to leave.”

But to his horror, he could see another stalking figure just outside of the ice pillars; an Electivire prowling the outskirts, blocking him in. The only path he could take was deeper into the ice.

Vaguely, Barry recalled nature documentaries. Packs of Pyroar intentionally luring their prey into bottlenecks or blockades, where they had no chance of escape.

Was he the prey?

Was he going to die here?

Barry found himself reaching into his bag and clutching his knife.

Barry and his team found the end of the berry trail, leading into a large clearing in the ice. And at the end of the trail was a shirtless man and a young girl.

The man glanced at the girl. "I cannot believe that worked."

"I told you it would! My clairvoyance is never wrong!"

Instinctively, Barry pushed his pokemon behind him. "Who are you? Are you part of Team Galactic?"

The man burst into a bellowing laugh. Only then did Barry realize - to his bewilderment and slight disgust - the man's chest hair was trimmed into the circular symbol of the Galactic splinter group.

It was obvious he was part of Galactic.

 "If I wasn't so furious, I'd almost be tempted to go easy on you for that!" The man said after settling himself down some, but a very irritated grin was still on his face. "Proper introductions are in order. I am Gaeric, Warden of the Pearl Clan!"

"And my name is Sabi, of the Diamond clan."

"You are Berry! The strange, wayward child that sets settlements ablaze and causes landslides!" Gaeric crossed his arms over his chest. The irritated grin was gone, leaving only anger. "And you will go no further."

The electivire slowly stomped into the clearing, the magmortar entering opposite it. From behind, Barry recognized the familiar silhouette of a Rhyperior.

Cornered. Trapped. Prey.

"Here are your options!" Gaeric held up a hand. "You willing come with me to the Pearl Settlement, and you wait while we decide how to punish you for your crimes. Or…we drag you there by the ankles."

"Ooooh, tough choices!" Sabi chirped. "Which will you pick, hmmm?"

Barry glanced between the three pokemon trudging through the snow to reach him. It felt like hundreds of battle strategies and movesets and possibilities raced through his mind at impossible speeds.

(He remembered fighting side by side with Her. He had begged her to come to the Fight Area, and she had gotten lost trying to find the ferry in snowpoint. Oh, oh how he had teased her for that. “I thought it was my job to get lost!” he said between fits of giggling.)

(Then, Flint and Volkner had challenged the two to a battle. With Her by Barry’s side, he knew the two of them would never lose. Flint sent out his magmortar and Volkner sent out his electivire, and-)

“Pest! String shot on the electivire, it’s fastest, so we gotta slow it down. Then, keep it distracted! Keep it confused! String shot, confusion, quiver dance! Go!” he barked, Pest launching itself off his head to follow the orders.

“Mystery! You take on the magmortar! Dodge the blasts, get in what hits you can! Haze to keep yourself hidden!” With a loud squawk, Mystery took flight, circling the fire type pokemon from above.

Finally, Barry turned to face the rhyperior behind him. “Jen! You’re on the rhyperior! It’s slow and bulky, so skirt around it until there’s an opening! No necessary risks, got it?!”

Fern shifted, ready to join the others in combat, but Barry grabbed its arm. “Not yet. Stay here. I doubt that’s all the pokemon they have…”

And his assumption was correct.

Gaeric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling loudly. “I knew you would do something stupid like this. Fine. If you want to fight so bad, I’ll give you a fight!”

Behind him floated in a glalie and froslass, both of them looking to the man for orders. “Freeze the boy! We’ll drag him to the settlement as an ice cube if we must!”

“Fern, take care of the ice types! I’ll protect Snacks!”

And Fern was all-too-happy to spring into action; the glalie, the froslass, and Fern circling one another in a strange, combative dance, none of them wanting to take the first shot.

Sabi frowned as she looked at all the battles before her, “You’re being so rough to my friends! That’s not how playing works! You’re being so mean!” she said with a whine.

With their Pokemon engaged in combat, Barry began to slowly move away from the battlefield, Snacks shuffling awkwardly behind him. He was looking for a potential exit, an escape plan. But it looked like they were trapped by ice and the trio of ‘friends’.

His hand was still in his bag, gripping the knife’s handle so tight it felt like he was about to lose circulation in his fingers. He was completely trapped. Cornered. Cornered. Cornered.

Gaeric, as if sensing Barry intent to escape, began making his way closer. Barry started to tremble, pressing himself against the pillar of ice behind him. Snacks let out a mournful croon, wrapping its arms around Barry’s legs.

But the man stopped. He stopped a few yards away, arms crossed. He had a strange look on his face that Barry couldn’t identify; the irritation and anger was still there…but just underneath was something softer.

“You’re not leaving.” Gaeric finally said. “I know you flee at the first chance you get. It’s not happening.”

Barry pulled out his knife, holding it with a shaking hand. “S-Stay back! I'm warning you!"

“Who taught you how to hold a knife?" Gaeric asked with an unimpressed frown. “Look at that stance! You know what-” he resumed his stride, gesturing at Barry. “Give me that. Give me the knife.”

“W-WHAT?” Barry squealed, pressing himself even more against the ice.

He didn’t actually want to have to use the knife. Barry was hoping he could bluff his way out of this, and clearly he could not.

Gaeric grabbed the boy’s wrist, the same hand currently holding the knife. “Alright. Give me the knife. You’re going to hurt someone.”

“AH- LET GO OF ME!” Barry shouted, scrambling to pull himself away. But the larger man was as solid as a boulder. 

“Give me the knife!”

“NO!”

“Just give me the knife!”

A near in-human noise clawed out of Barry’s throat as he squirmed and writhed in Gaeric’s grip. He tugged and pulled, his free hand clawing at Gaeric’s wrist.

Gaeric stood there, looking at Barry as if the boy had transformed into a feral shinx before his very eyes. “You are freaking me out. Listen, you’re not going to win this fight. Look-”

He pulled the boy over, twisting him around to show the battlefield. Pest was still keeping the electivire distracted, Mystery was dodging the magmortar attacks, Jen was still keeping the rhyperior occupied.

Fern was currently locked in battle with his glalie, attempting to land a punch on the floating ice type. What Fern didn’t notice, though, was froslass creeping behind it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with your deformed Gardevoir…Gallade…thing. But whatever it is, I know it won’t be able to take a shadow ball in the back.”

“FERN!” Barry screamed, still trying to tear his wrist from Gaeric’s grip. “FERN BEHIND YOU!”

The warning came just moments too late. Fern was just barely able to spin around and raise an arm to try and protect itself from the attack. 

The shadow ball was a direct hit.

Fern was engulfed in an explosion of purple, ghostly energy.

But when the smoke cleared, Fern was still standing. Shaking, clearly injured, but still standing.

Gaeric’s jaw dropped. “What in Sinnoh’s name IS that thing?!”

“That’s my FRIEND, you ASSHOLE!” Barry practically screamed, continuing his writhing struggles.

Snacks was crying behind him. Pest and Mystery were clearly growing tired. Jen was barely dodging attacks. Fern was outnumbered.

His pokemon needed him. His pokemon needed him! 

“NOW LET! ME! GO!”

Barry kicked him. Kicked him hard. Right between his legs.

The surprised and pained squeak from the man was almost satisfying. But more importantly, as Gaeric slumped to the ground, he let go of Barry's wrist.

His glalie and froslass, alerted by their master’s distress, abandoned combat with Fern. 

“FERN!” Barry shouted, trying - and failing - to pick up Snacks. (Since when were snovers so heavy?) “GO HELP JEN!”

A bit slow from the shadow ball, Fern eventually staggered over to the rhyperior.

“Hey! That’s no fair! And no fun!” Sabi yelled from…somewhere. Barry had kind of lost track of her in the fight. But he finally noticed her on top of one of the pillars with a giant bird. “You’re cheating!”

And said giant bird looked mean. There was no way his team could take that thing on, not now.

“I’m fine with that!” Barry yelled back. “Take out the rhyperior!”

The rhyperior wasn’t sure which target to focus on with Fern joining the fray, and this confusion was enough for Jen to land a well-placed water pulse and for Fern to hit with a close combat immediately after.

The enormous rock pokemon staggered, falling onto its back. It wiggled pitifully, like a stuck ledyba.

It wasn’t fainted. But it was an opening.

“LEAVING NOW! LEAVING NOW!” Barry called to his team. He grabbed his very last pokeball, tapping it against Snacks’ head to capture it. “Sorry bud, you’re real slow. Fern, Jen, you too-” and he recalled them for good measure.

He could hear Pest and Mystery start to fly after him. But he could also hear the screech and wingbeats of the giant bird under Sabi’s command.

Barry risked glancing over his shoulder. The giant bird was gaining on them, any moment it’d swoop down and crush Mystery and Pest between its talons-

That was, until Mystery spun right around and smacked it with assurance. The giant bird, either taken by surprise or genuinely hurt, let out a loud squawk and gave up chasing them entirely. It flew back to Sabi, metaphorically tucking its tail between its legs like a frightened poochyena.

“HA! YOUR STUPID BIRD CAN’T HANDLE US!” He shouted, Mystery letting out a loud caw in agreement.

“YOU ATTACKED LORD BRAVIARY?!” the girl squealed, Braviary pitifully crooning and nudging its head into her chest. “You’re going to be in sooooooooooo much trouble!!”

“I don’t care what pedigree or whatever that thing is! You’re lucky I didn’t fine you two!”

With the electivire breaking the silk slowing it down and the magmortar helping the rhyperior back onto its feet, Barry knew it was time to leave.

He ran back into the frozen wastes, Pest and Mystery flying just behind, hoping that Gaeric and Sabi were too slow to give chase.

Luckily for him, they didn’t bother giving chase at all.

Sabi and Lord Braviary made their way to Gaeric, curled up on his side, on the ground. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.” she said with a shrug.

Gaeric laid there for a moment before asking, “...Sabi. How much of that fight could you see…with your foresight?”

“Hmmmmm, I saw most of it. Attacking Lord Braviary was a surprise-”

“So you knew. He’d kick me in the dick. And you said. Nothing?”

“Yeah! It was sooo funny!”

He groaned again, “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

---

[Finally!! Dawn Speaks!!! And the Leaders know…….] [And a team update! Now featuring Snacks!]

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 19

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: More notes at the end of the chapter. Beta by @zaria-04

Chapter 19: Loki on a mission

Despite the many events in recent years that have brought the planet into turmoil, alien threats from space, attacks from other dimensions or an attempted world domination by third parties are fortunately rather rare.

More and more often, the Avengers are also involved in cases of civil protection and disaster control. In other words, whenever extra helping hands with special skills are needed.

You had a meeting with Tony about your not-job, where you talked about how to proceed with Loki's integration into the team. The Asgardian attended the meeting - since returning from the Lunar Convergence, both of you have become almost inseparable. You were seen almost exclusively together in the compound, but that seems to surprise few. Loki is still reserved in front of the prying eyes of the others, listening rather than talking. But he slowly warms up.

The three of you agree that it’s time for Loki to go on missions with them. Preferably missions that make a good PR. Even the Asgardian no longer has any objections to this.

"By the way, how was the coven?" Tony asks you after you have discussed everything important and he has put a glass from his private supply in front of each of you. "Did you dance naked around a well?"

"Wouldn't that involve being an innocent virgin?" you ask, laughing at this cliché.

Tony tilts his head. "Normally I'd love to deepen that topic but since you came back with Loki," his eyes dart briefly to the Asgardian, who looks rather amused, "and I don't want to know his part in this, I'll pass."

"Your loss," Loki winks with a grin.

~~

Two weeks later, there's the first mission Loki will be on.

"After the hurricane yesterday, there was a landslide in southern Appalachia. Several towns are cut off, one is buried under the landslide," Steve summarizes. "The task is to recover injured people and clean up as much as possible."

All the Avengers present in the tower have been called into a short-notice meeting and are briefed by Cap.

"Sabrina is going to make us some first aid healing potions and send them later," Tony adds. He is sitting near Steve and fiddling with a hologram on his Stark Phone. It's aerial footage of the area.

You yourself are not at the meeting. Tony had called you and you immediately got to work, as the potions took a day and a half to finish. Before you left through the doorway to your cottage, you kissed Loki goodbye and wished him well.

Although the incident is a tragedy, it is the perfect opportunity for Loki to show his face in public.

Clint and Natasha are currently on the road for Shield, but the rest of the Avengers would participate.

"Let's hope we won't face too many casualties." Steve lets his eyes wander around the room. "Suit up and pack everything you need for a week. We take off in an hour."

For the others, it's routine. Most have their gear ready in case there's an impromptu emergency. Loki has everything important he needs in his pocket dimension with him, and does not need to add a lot more for the next few days.

He leaves the suite together with Thor and shortly thereafter the two are seated next to each other on the Quinjet.

"I'll be traveling home soon," Thor tells him. Contrary to his usual manner, his voice is lowered. "I could talk to Father about your exile. I think it is time for it to be lifted."

A little surprised at his words, Loki merely nodded. He remembered his mother's words at the Lunar Convergence, before they parted.

Home is wherever you decide it is. Or whoever.

When Thor had just mentioned home, Loki had not first associated it with Asgard, to his own surprise. He was used to despising his father's decisions - most recently his banishment to Midgard. No time period had been set for his exile, and Loki had assumed that should he ever be allowed to return, he would do so immediately. He had never given a thought to the possibility that he might want to stay on this planet. Voluntarily.

Should the opportunity present itself, would you accompany him? Did he even want to go back to Asgard, back under the strict eyes of his father?

He has a lot to think about. Thor seems to notice this, because perhaps for the very first time, his younger brother has nothing to say, but is silent.

He pats him on the shoulder and gets up to go to Steve.

The movement makes Loki look up. He tears himself away from his thoughts - now he wouldn't come to any solution anyway and it's better to focus them on the task at hand - and lets his eyes wander. The mood among the heroes is relaxed. In his head he still does not pronounce this word without a trace of sarcasm. The irony about the fact that he is now at their side is not lost on him.

The mission holds no real threat, it's about helping the people. To clean up and save what can be saved.

In addition to Thor and Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner is also on board, bringing the muscle of the Hulk. And then there are Tony Stark and Peter Parker. Loki notices that the boy's gaze is on him and he raises an eyebrow. Briefly, he is tempted to change his face to that of his Jötun form and scare the boy. But it's probably not a good idea to intimidate a team member.

Suddenly, Peter walks up to him. Since the boy doesn't live in the tower and is still in his training - which brings many obligations with it - Loki had only ever seen him from afar in the hallway or between meetings. They haven't spoken a word to each other yet.

Peter is changing that now.

"Hello, Mr. Loki, Sir. We haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves yet," he greets the Asgardian politely, but not at all intimidated. Rather, he seems curious.

"You are that spider boy," Loki replies curtly.

"Spider-Man. I've almost graduated from high school. You can call me Peter, though."

Loki merely nods. He's not quite sure what to do with this kid. From his perspective, he's so small, even if he doesn't give a fragile impression. He wonders why by the Norns he seems to draw in Midgardian younglings. It is a mystery to him.

"You can do magic, right? Thor told me about it," Peter continues. "Like Stephen? That's pretty cool. I swing and I’m pretty strong."

"Stephen? Do you mean the Sorcerer Supreme?" It's the one piece of info from the boy's little rant that gets Loki's attention. Peter nods.

"Ah, yes. His stage name is Doctor Strange. Met him a while ago. He got this weird cape. It's kinda alive."

He looks a little puzzled when Loki suddenly starts chuckling. "I like you, Peter."

"Thanks, Mr. Loki, Sir." The boy smiles politely, still not quite sure what the reason for the Asgardian's good mood is. But he is pleased nonetheless.

"Just Loki is fine."

"Alright. My Aunt May always tells me to be polite and not assume that I can address my teammates directly by their first names. I'm a lot younger than everyone else, after all. And Thor and you are like royals from space. Alien princes. Not as scary as the alien queen from that old movie though." Peter happily rambles.

Irritated, because the words coming out of his mouth don't seem to stop, Loki looks at his brother, who catches his glance. But the other Asgardian merely observes the two of them and nods encouragingly at Loki. Loki scolds. This is not helping. His expression only seems to amuse Thor more.

Loki turns his head back to Peter. "Do you ever shut up?" It's not an aggressive, not even an annoyed question, just a serious one. But Peter swallows the rest of what he was going to say and runs his hand through his hair. A little tic of his when he's nervous.

"... Sorry... I'll leave you alone for some Bruce Wayne time." He notices the confused look on the Asgardian's face. "Batman? Always alone and brooding, while listening to Nirvana? I... will just go." With that, the boy turns and hurries away.

Upon arrival, Steve contacts the head of disaster control to get an overview and plan further action. The sky is still dreary and cloudy and there is a light but steady drizzle.

Thor and Peter make themselves instantly useful and help clear one of the larger city streets so that emergency vehicles have better access to it. Tony has brought his Stark's Ark technology to temporarily power the area. The electricity had been knocked out by the disaster, and right now the only backup power here is from a couple of smaller generators. He wanders off to install the system and takes Bruce with him.

So Loki is on his own for the time being. He puts on his hood as a protection against the rain and also moves away from the Quinjet and looks around. Chaos reigns everywhere. The town has been buried under mud. There is too much water for the earth to hold, so there are large puddles and ponds everywhere. A creek that runs along the edge of town has swollen into a small river with a brown slurry. There is dirt and debris everywhere.

Some people are trying to get some work done with shovels, and government-supplied excavators are being unloaded.

Not a single house seems to have been spared, they all show different levels of destruction. Some have only had the first floor hit, with mud going in through the door or a broken window. Walls are crushed, roofs uncovered, trees fallen. Vehicles that were not stored in the garages are lying in the middle of the street or in former front yards, sometimes upside down. So are garden furniture, barbecues, fences. Most of it isn’t usable anymore.

Small task forces are already blazing trails into the ruins in search of survivors. The catastrophe was barely twenty-four hours ago. There is still hope. But they must proceed with caution, because some of the buildings are in danger of collapse. The water has softened the walls and floors and turned them into dangerous terrain.

Tents have been erected wherever the ground is firm enough to allow it. That's where disaster control has set up camp. People are being fed. Most of the residents have already been placed in emergency shelters in the next district. Volunteers from there have arrived to lend a hand with the work. And then there are those residents who are too stubborn to leave. When you lose everything you own, you don't necessarily want to be sent away from home, too.

Loki notices the beginning of order. But it's still not enough to lift minds. Not by a long shot. There is mourning for what has been lost, despair, resignation. Pure willpower to get through even this incident. Determination.

Loki knows these feelings, they are familiar to him. Albeit in a different way.

After only a few steps, his boots are muddy. Probably at least one person would start a discussion with Thor why he didn't prevent the hurricane. But Thor is not the god of weather. That's Freyr.

An older lady is arguing with two responders in reflective vests. Their faces are all hidden under the hoods of their rain jackets, but Loki hears their voices as he teleports onto an overturned SUV to get a better view.

"...Please, you have to get him out of there."

"We have to wait for the big machines, ma'am," one responder replies, and the other adds, "Go back to the shelters. We'll do our best."

One of the men points toward the tents and brooks no further argument. With drooping shoulders, the woman turns and leaves. She pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders. The cold and wetness eats through the clothing the longer she moves in it.

She passes near Loki and sees him standing on the car. She hesitates, but is desperate enough to try her luck.

"Excuse me," she addresses him and Loki turns, looking down at her. "Are you one of the heroes who were supposed to arrive? Please help me find my son Tyler."

"I am not..." he begins, as she raises her hands pleadingly.

"Please, I'm begging you."

It is absurd. If Loki had been in this situation five years ago, one year ago – him standing tall, a person at his feet, begging - he would have laughed and savored the moment to the last drop. It would have been his highlight of the day. And he would have thought twice about being merciful. Or if it was beneath him to even answer this prayer.

Now he merely nods and slides down to stand next to her.

"Where did you see him last?"

"He was in the house when the disaster happened. It's back there." She points down a side street that is completely flooded with mud. Disaster control hasn't gotten to it yet. "He wasn't with the rescued, so he must still be there. Please, I'm worried about him. He lives alone."

She’s an elderly woman. On a sunny, good day, she probably would have looked younger, but today the lines in her face deepen from the worry for her son.

"I'll do my best."

The Asgardian sets off. The mud is three feet high and not yet dry enough to walk on, which is why Loki climbs onto a piece of debris peeking out from the dirt and from there jumps onto the underside of a vehicle within reach that the storm has overturned. Thus he moves forward in a zig-zag pattern, teleporting a bit at a time when he can't find a suitable surface nearby.

The mud and the floods have also pushed up the sewage, and it stinks.

The house the old woman showed him has not been affected by the landslide from the mountain, but the mud has pushed a vehicle through the wall on the first floor and some windows are broken. Also, a tree in the front yard is leaning, but that's probably the least of their worries at this point.

The front door barely hangs on its hinges. Loki kicks it hard once to clear the way, and it falls over.

The mud has also found its way into the house, though not as high as outside. Some of the furniture has toppled over, including the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen, and its contents have spread across the floor. Soon rats and raccoons will be all over it.

If the woman's son - Tyler recalls Loki his name - is smart, he had retreated to the upstairs during the flood. The Asgardian looks at the wooden staircase, which looks sodden and very unstable. He decides not to risk it and teleports.

"Tyler?" he calls as he looks around upstairs. It's not quite as much of a mess as downstairs, but parts of the roof are uncovered, letting in the rain. Loki isn't familiar with Midgard's architecture, but he doubts anything can be salvaged from this house.

In the bedroom, he finds a man lying unconscious on the floor. Above him is a hole in the roof. Either he was hit by a falling part or he tried to climb out and fell.

Loki puts two fingers to his neck and is glad to find a pulse. But the young man is far too cold. Who knows how long he has been laying here. Without further ado, Loki picks him up and looks through the cracked window over to the paramedic’s tent.

The next moment he is standing between them. The medics are startled by his sudden appearance and jump apart, and someone lets out a scream. But then they see the patient in Loki's arms and they jump into action, taking the man from Loki.

Shortly after, the relieved mother also appears in the tent, but Loki has already moved on.

He passes Peter, who lifts a fallen wall of the house, which is otherwise still almost in one piece, and pushes it over his head. It's impressive how strong the boy is. He doesn't even struggle a bit with the weight, merely with the unevenly distributed weight.

The wall cracks and a piece threatens to break. Loki raises an arm and uses magic to fix it. Together they lift the wall, leaning it against what's left of the house. Beneath it, the rubble of the front yard emerges.

"Thanks, Loki." Peter is wearing his Spider-Man suit and mask, so Loki can't see his face. He merely nods in reply and then helps the boy clear away more small pieces of debris.

The further they fight through the dirt, the more objects appear that had been washed out of the houses. Everything that merely needs to be cleaned up and is otherwise not broken is collected in a spot near the tents.

Peter and Loki probably find the most usable things of all. Peter because he goes out of his way to salvage things and Loki because he secretly fixes some things that seem important with magic.

Late in the evening, the Avengers gather at the Quinjet for a meal. The sun is setting, but thanks to Tony there is improved emergency power and outside some floodlights could be set up.

Inside the jet itself, they are supplied with everything they need. It’s warm and there are bunk beds for everyone.

"Good job so far." Steve enters the jet last. He comes straight from another meeting with the head of disaster control and has worked out a plan with him for the next few days so that everyone can be deployed to the best of their ability. "Make sure you guys get enough sleep. Tomorrow we'll start early."

Loki turns his face to his brother and Thor catches his gaze and tilts his head questioningly. Loki replies with a brief nod and the matter is settled between the two brothers. Asgardians need far less sleep than ordinary humans. As the others gradually settle down to sleep, they leave the jet and continue to work for much of the night.

There are also some humans on duty, but far fewer than during the day. Because despite the lights set up, it's dangerous. For normal mortals.

But the two gods roll up their sleeves and work their way through the chaos.

____________________________

Loki and Peter are my second favorite unexpected friendship duo in this story. Peter with his Gen Z humor and memes and Loki being confused by it.

Peter: “Mister Doctor Strange, Sir.” Strange: “Please, we saved the world New York together. No need to call me Sir.” Peter: “Okay then, Stephen.” Loki: laughing “This boy, I like him.” Strange: is having an aneurysm

Also, I started writing this story as a regular Loki/Reader story, but it became more of a story of Loki’s character development in the second half. I won’t apologize for that.

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu @moonlightreader649 @ronipiamka @fluffybunnyu @ninjarose23 @ozymdias @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @rosaline-black @sofi786 @moonlightreader649 @paetonnn @eldriidd @r4inlov3r @eleniblue @eleniblue @maeisonline @marvel-love24 @sinsandguilt @kalinaselennespeaks @ohtellmelove @eleniblue @msrawog @hyojin-2579 @just-someone11

If you wanna be added/removed dm me, write a comment or send a raven

[palettepainter]

Food for thought 36

You know those videos people make where, after giving birth, they call their relatives who had no idea they'd given birth?? I've been seeing a bunch of them on my instagram and I began wondering, would any of my OC's do this? Probably not

Then I thought about Chikara and, yeah, she would totally do this for the lols

I like to HC that Powerloader aids more in natural disasters, things like land slides and such and helping in evacuation/search and rescue in the city. One day, Higari is called away out of the city to help with a landslide incident - it's a BIG job: houses have been destroyed, the landslide has covered nearly half a town, and many people are both injured and missing. They estimate they're going to be gone for at least two months

Originally, it was only supposed to be Higari who left, but Ectoplasm was called in last minute to aid in the search and rescue with his clones. Chikara - pregnant at the time - is probably living at UA for safety reasons and bids the two good luck and goodbye as they leave for their hero work.

Time passes and Higari and Ectoplasm return home. Classes at UA haven't quite finished, but there's only about an hour of school left so the two decide to just go back to the teachers dorms. Chikara is in the kitchen, and greets them over her shoulder, and while Higari is explaining the details of their mission Chikara turns around with Hoshi in her arms and the following situation happens:

Higari: -and that's not even talking about the amount of damage to the town! Even the houses that are still standing are halfway to rubble-

Chikara: (turns, Hoshi in her arms) Yeesh, sounds exhausting

Higari/Ecto: (gawking).....

Chikara:...(continues to play obliviousness to their shock) So you hit any traffic on the way back?-

Higari: (aggressively points to Hoshi) No the FUCK you didn't!!

Later on, after much questioning from Higari and after Chikara had stopped laughing at his face, this conversation followed:

Higari: (angrily but mostly concerned) Why didn't you call or text me?! What if something happened!!

Chikara: Relax Higari, nothing happened! It all went smoothly

Higari: Why didn't you TELL me?! I woulda come home sooner!

Chikara: (cheshire cat grin) Because there is no way you're ever going to be able to top this surprise with any type of prank you can pull~

Higari: (scowling).............(sighs) Why are you like this?

Chikara: (unashamed) Zero regrets

[chewyjellycable]

[Turnabout Identity B - CW: Mental Distress, Recollection of Trauma]

The quiet ringing of a bell hung in the air as a hardened detective stepped through the door of a well-known defense attorney's place of work. The law firm was tidy and seemed like it was kept up with plenty of attentiveness. The investigator, Almond, scoped the area diligently, one hand digging through the inner pockets of his coat for his notebook. However, his digging was interrupted as a door to the next room over was opened to reveal the owner of the firm. Langue de Chat, supposedly. "Oh, detective! What brings you here? Come to bring me updates about one of the cases I have taken on?" Their voice was too sweet for Almond's ears. It was with a sigh that the detective would shake his head and finally pull something out of his coat. His badge.

"Actually, I'm here regarding the situation around your sibling." The initial fear the investigator spotted from Langue made him almost regret bringing the topic up. He hated these emotionally charged cases more than the ones where parties were more apathetic monsters than anything else. "I can always come back later, however considering how busy both of our schedules are, I recommend we get things over with sooner rather than later. Move this whole thing along to put the case to rest."

"The case... about Dele, right?" The attorney would speak slowly, trying to keep themself composed. Eventually, they'd force a laugh out of themself and open the door to their office. "Right, yes. The whole thing is still a sore spot, but better now than never." De Chat would make a motion for Alm to step in and take a seat in one of the chairs meant for clients in front of his desk. "Are you going to read me my rights beforehand?" Langue questioned as they closed the door behind themself and politely seated themself behind their desk.

"Hm. I'm sure you know your rights considering your line of work..." Sweat beaded at the top of the lawyer's forehead at the thought of not being told despite definitely, one hundred percent, knowing such already. "Better to be thorough though." A mental sigh of relief was given through Chat's shoulders relaxing as they went through the whole song and dance. At the end of it, Alm pulled out a cup of black coffee to sip- with permission- between questions.

"...with all that said, do you still wish to speak to me?"

"Yes." Langue spoke firmly, something that had become infrequent after the whole incident they were soon to speak upon.

Eyes honed in on the law practitioner, Almond would sort through the assortment of questions in his head, going over how to be firm without shattering what could be a fragile psyche in front of him. He'd take a sip, keeping a solid grip as he finally decided on what course to take. "Alright... Now, I know you may not remember everything considering the stress you were under at the time, but... I want you to recount what happened that night to the best of your abilities. What happened to Bredele de Cassonade, and why did you go missing for months afterward?"

"Well, you see, we-..." The name of their sibling was a delayed process in their mind. Langue would have their gaze drop to the desk before them, vivid flashes of memories going through their mind. The walk the two had, the severe injuries that- who- who sustained those? "We were walking. A nature walk. It was a break from work- we both needed it." At least their voice was stable enough... even if De Chat couldn't look the detective eye-to-eye. "There was-... There was this landslide, I think? Something with rocks. We both got caught in it, but she... she had been harmed much worse than I had." Pupils wide behind the lenses of their glasses, Langue took to fidgeting with the rim of it. "I- she... I tried to help, I did, but-..." A doctor can't treat themself. The doctor couldn't treat themself. The doctor treated... who? No, she- they-... The doctor didn't treat herself, no, they- what?

Their head hurt. The grip on the rims of the glasses caused a cracking sound that nearly made Langue jump out of their chair, breath hitching as panic started to flood their system.

Almond would sigh softly, putting his hand within Langue's line of sight and waving it to try and get their attention. "Take a deep breath." The detective would state simply, hoping that his words were getting through to someone who was shattering like glass in front of him. "In for five, out for seven. Take all the time you need... I am not going to rush you to say anything, I promise."

The defense attorney would give a near-silent whimper as they leaned forward and grabbed ahold of Alm's hand. It was an uncomfortably tight grip, but thankfully this old man's dough wasn't nearly as easy to break as enchanted plastic. "Th-thank you, detective..." There was half a thought to correct Langue and have them call him Almond much like anyone else- but doing so right now probably wouldn't have boded well for the person with the stability of wet paper. "Um, s-so... she- she didn't make it. I couldn't- I just- there was so much going on, and seeing here like that, I just-... I just..."

The typically composed and confident lawyer was anything but; beginning to wail and sob, Langue couldn't keep the farce up and let it all out. Crying with unabashed grief and fear, they'd lean their top half against the desk whilst gripping Almond's hand like a lifeline. At this rate, it may as well have been. "I couldn't save her! I- I- I failed as a sibling! As family! As- as a-" A shaking breath tore itself into Langue's throat as a sharp pain felt like a dagger being stabbed into their head. As what? A lawyer? Lawyers don't know healing! Mending! Mending- no, not- not that. Who would use mending for medical? Ridiculous- that's- that's just-...

"My... It was too much. I-I ran, I think. I just-... I couldn't st-stay, I couldn't, s-so... I got- I got... lost?" Good enough of an explanation. Speaking coherently was hard enough thanks to the pain that was shooting through Langue's head- let alone saying something that would make sense for the situation. They weren't even lying- they could never- so why? Why was recalling this so difficult? So blurry? So... wrong?

No admissions of guilt, Almond would think beyond the emotional stakes at hand, though there certainly was plenty of grief to sift through. The sleuth felt lucky enough that his hand wasn't broken by now considering the distress. It would be for the benefit of getting a less distorted retelling, and for the benefit of his hand not being snapped or sprained, to give a small break in the retelling. "Alright, alright. You don't have to go into any further detail for now. Seems like you have enough on your mind already. How about we change the subject, huh?" Alm was pleasantly surprised that those wide brown eyes were even capable of looking at him. Though... Langue always had green eyes in their photos, right? He'll set that aside for later investigating- right now there was a wet dog of a person hanging on his words.

"Right, so..." Ugh, now this was awkward. Almond tried to give a small tug on his arm, but Langue de Chat was absolutely not budging from holding onto someone. He'll have to work that out of them, then work more information. "How have you felt returning to work? Records show you have succeeded in every case since your return. Seeing some of them in person, I'm surprised your more cautious, precise approach you've taken has worked out."

"A-ah..." Langue would struggle to find proper words, but eventually get something out. Even if their voice was still shaken like a trauma cocktail. "I have simply... learned... new methods. B-being at work is where I feel I'm at my best! Defending innocent people, seeing them smile, it's... I-I could not ask for a better job, sincerely... Sp-speaking of, ah, cases! May I go on about one in particular I enjoyed defending for...?"

Finally, Almond was able to pull his hand back. There was a quiet 'sorry' heard from De Chat as he rubbed the soreness out of his muscles. That's going to be sore for the rest of the day, huh? Ugh, figures. "So long as you aren't breaking any contracts and the case is already settled, then sure. Go wild."

...funny. Langue never seemed like the type to ask permission before rambling, did they?

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 5

Title:

Prompt: Debris

Word Count: 1,855

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson and Chimney Han

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of minor injury, flash flooding, landslides and storms.

Summary: the team are called in to help with flash flooding when disaster strikes one of their own. Written for day five of @whumptober for the prompt debris

Tags: @firemedicdiaz @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @alexxavicry @cm1031sr​ 

Authors notes: Well considering this day started off rubbish because I found I lost this document in the great One Drive deletion (honestly still not over that) but hey, we made it to day five and we're still going strong. Thank you as always to my amazing beta @firemedicdiaz <3 I love you to the moon and back!

The sound of the rain echoed through the room as it pelted against the windows of the firehouse. Hen, Chim, Eddie and Buck all stood around the table as Bobby briefed them about the rescue they’d been called in to help with. Outside the heavy rain had been relentless and had caused flash flooding and rivers had burst their banks. Their main concern was the landslides that threatened to engulf large parts of the city. 

“Why is it always us who ends up with natural disasters?” Buck whined. 

“It’s just water, I’m sure you’ll survive.” Hen must have realized what she’d said with the look Eddie and Buck gave her in return. 

“We don’t exactly have the best track record with storms,” Eddie replied. 

“Or large bodies of water,” Buck added. 

“Alright, enough you guys,” Bobby commanded as he stepped up to the group. “We’ve got reports of flash flooding. The heavy rain has caused the rivers to overflow and a burst riverbank downstream. There’s now concern about landslides, multiple victims trapped, and multiple evacuation orders are in progress.” 

The jovial atmosphere shifted immediately as Bobby continued to outline the specifics of their rescue operation and gave orders to the team. With their orders given and their gear checked, the members of the 118 prepared to head out towards the disaster zone. 

As they pulled up to the scene, the devastation was staggering. The once-familiar landscape had turned into a mess of destruction with downed trees and muddied waters. The roar of the river could be heard in the distance as it echoed through the valley and mixed with the sound of the unrelenting downpour. 

The incident commander on scene assigned them all their tasks as Buck and Eddie exchanged worried glances. With their orders given, the team split up as they began their rescue efforts, determined to save as many victims of the storm as they could. 

Eddie carefully navigated his way through the rough terrain and wreckage as he called out to anyone who might need his help. His flashlight cut through the darkness as he climbed the hill above the waters to get a better vantage point of the scene. As he neared the top of the hill, he heard soft cries and called out again as he moved his flashlight towards where the sound had come from. At first it had sounded like a small animal but as he neared he saw the silhouette of a young child, soaked to the bone and shivering. The boy couldn’t have been more than 6 years old, his eyes wide with fear. 

Eddie knelt down, his heart aching as he crouched to the child’s level, “hey, buddy,” Eddie began softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos around them. “My name’s Eddie, I’m a firefighter and I’m going to get you out of here, alright.” 

The young child lunged forward as he clung to Eddie, tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in Eddie’s neck. With the child safely in his arms, Eddie carefully began to make his way back with the hopes someone else had found his family and they could be reunited. 

As he climbed down what was left of the hill, the rain-soaked earth suddenly shifted beneath him as it began to give way below his feet. Eddie’s heart was in his throat as he tried to maintain his balance to not dislodge anymore sediment beneath them, but it was a losing battle. 

Desperation clawed at him as he clung onto the child, determined to protect him and get him back to his family safely. He took another cautious step forward and felt himself slipping further. As if in slow motion, he set the child down and pushed him upwards as he yelled for the child to run. 

His body tumbled with the rest of the earth as it hurtled toward the raging waters below. As his body plunged into the icy waters, he sucked in a deep breath in reaction to the sudden temperature change. The water effortlessly seeped its way into his turnout, making every movement feel even heavier and more sluggish as the cold crept into his bones and he fought to keep his head above the raging currents. He tried his best to fight and swim to the edge of the river bank but the raging flood waters were unrelenting as they continued to carry him downstream with great force. 

His body collided with debris as he continued downstream that battered and sliced into his sides. The last thing he saw before his world faded was a large piece of debris heading toward him. It struck him with a brutal impact and his body went limp as he felt himself lose control as the world seemed to slow down and spin around him before he succumbed to the darkness. 

His body continued to be swept away by the waters, his fate hanging in the balance unknown to the rest of his team who continued their own search and rescue efforts. 

Buck continued his search, determined to find more survivors. As he waded through the waist-deep water, he called out for anyone who might have been nearby. He aimed his flashlight in every direction until the light fell upon a small child all alone, cold, and wet. 

Buck hurried over and knelt in front of the child. “Hey, are you okay? My name’s Buck,” he began with a smile as he held out a hand to show he wasn’t a threat. “What are you doing out here all alone?” 

“I-I wasn’t alone…” the child replied quietly. 

“Who were you with? Your parents?” Buck asked. 

“N-no. A-a firefighter got me, but he fell.” 

Buck’s stomach dropped but he tried to remain calm as he asked the child for more information. “Did you see my friend? Was his name Eddie? Did he find you?” 

The child’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded. 

“Did you see where he fell?” 

The child raised a shaky finger as he pointed towards the raging waters that splashed angrily below them. A lump formed in his throat and fear gripped at his heart as he watched the mass of debris and destruction below him, knowing Eddie had ended up down there. He picked up the child and held him close as he raised his radio to his mouth to speak, “man down. I repeat, firefighter Diaz is down.” 

Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio, “what’s your location?” 

Buck relayed the information and held the child a little closer as he waited for back up to arrive. His words hung heavy in the air as the 118, scattered around the disaster zone, scrambled to save their own at Buck’s distress call. 

Panicked and concerned, the team rushed together and regrouped to locate their missing teammate. Buck had handed the child off to another crew as he met up with Bobby, Hen and Chim. 

“Buck, are you alright?” Hen asked as she saw the grim look on his face. 

He nodded in reply, not quite trusting himself to speak. 

“We stay focused and we stay safe,” Bobby ordered, “we’ll find Eddie, I’ve already alerted the IC and search and rescue. We’ve got everyone out looking for him.” 

With a renewed determination, the team rallied together as they began their search for their missing team member. Buck’s heart raced with anxiety as he cast his light downstream. There was a mess of mud, downed trees, and debris and he had begun to lose hope until his flashlight hit something. A flash of yellow caught his eye, bright against the darkness. His heart skipped a beat as he read the familiar yellow writing on the back of the turnout coat, ‘Diaz.’ 

Buck’s voice tore through the night as he alerted his team, “I’ve got eyes on him,” his voice a mix of relief and fear at not knowing his friend's condition. It took every ounce of self control within him to not run down the hill to Eddie’s side. 

As the team heard the news, Bobby was quick to make the decision knowing Buck wasn’t going to have it any other way, “Buck, you and I are going to go down there and get him. Hen and Chim, I need you to make sure we’ve got an ambulance ready and get more bodies here to help with the ropes.” 

With a new sense of urgency, Bobby and Buck put on the harnesses and attached themselves safely to the ropes before they began their descent down the treacherous hillside towards their fallen teammate. The rain continued to pound against them and the roar of the water below deafened them but they pushed forward. 

When they reached the bottom, Buck wasted no time as he ran to Eddie’s side and fell to his knees. He ripped off his glove with his teeth as he pressed trembling fingers to the side of Eddie’s neck and held his breath, praying he’d feel a pulse. 

His skin was icy cold and pale and it took a moment but finally he felt it, a faint but steady pulse beneath his fingertips. Relief flooded him as he nodded to Bobby, “I’ve got a pulse.” 

Buck’s relief was, however, was short lived as he took in the full extent of Eddie’s condition. He was pale, his body battered and bruised and freezing from where he’d been soaked and laying in the river's icy waters. 

The pair worked quickly as they stabilized him the best they could under the challenging conditions. Every moment was critical and they knew they couldn’t waste any more time and had to get him back up to an ambulance. 

Up on the hill, Hen and Chim coordinated the rescue efforts from above as they managed to get all three men back up to safer ground. 

Once they were all on solid ground, the team wasted no time in getting Eddie into the waiting ambulance. Inside, they quickly removed his wet clothing and were finally able to get a look at the full extent of his injuries. The sight of Eddie’s body, battered and bruised, sent a fresh wave of worry through all of them but they focussed their efforts on getting him stable. 

As they worked to warm him up and assess his injuries, the ambulance sped towards the nearest hospital. Buck had refused to leave Eddie’s side and continued to hold his hand, his fingers intertwined with Eddie’s as he watched and listened to the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor that provided comfort that his friend was alive. 

The medic in the back with them continued to work around them to keep Eddie stable and comfortable until eventually they began to see a slight improvement in his condition. His vitals had steadied and he was no longer the deathly shade of pale he had been when they first found him. 

Buck couldn’t help the relief that washed over him as the ambulance neared the hospital and the skies began to show signs of clearing; a sign of hope and promise that the storm was behind them.

[cg29fics]

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The full complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Previous: Chapter 38. Reactions

Chapter 39. Background Check

Previously…

Scott slumped into his chair. “So, how have you been getting along with the background checks on the nurse and Doctor?”

“Well,” John started. It’s actually brought up some interesting information on both, but one is very damning!”

“Which one?” Scott enquired.

… ...

“Nurse Andrews!” John replied.

“So, it was her?” Gordon frowned.

“Unfortunately, we still don’t know for definite,” John sighed, “we have no proof, and as I said, the checks I’ve done on Sanderson are quite intriguing as well!”

“But what you’ve found so far does point to this Andrews woman?” Penelope questioned, taking her coffee from Parker who had just re-entered the room.

“Yes, it does,” John confirmed.

“Okay,” Scott breathed out, trying to keep the anger that was beginning to seep in at bay. “Let's hear what you have on her.”

Alan who had the notes in front of him started. “Maria Jessica Andrews, aged 24. Gained a Bachelor of Nursing with Honours at The University of Auckland. She grew up with her parents and three younger brothers. Her father Duncan Andrews was a pharmacist and her mother Bridget Andrews was a receptionist in a health clinic.”

“Was, have they both passed away?” Parker questioned.

Alan breathed out. “They both died two years ago. It seems they were caught in a landslide at Crest Valley.”

“Oh God!” Scott burst out, recognising the incident that Alan was referring to. “That was two months after we first launched International Rescue.”

“It seems that her parents had been enjoying a vacation with her two youngest brothers, who were aged 12 and 14 at the time,” Alan continued, “they had all been in their cabin when the disaster occurred. According to local news reports they were the last ones to be reached.”

“Were they the ones that Virgil went in for?” Gordon questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, they were!” John confirmed.

Gordon and Scott released heavy breaths, as their memories flashed back to the tragedy that had happened that day.

There had been severe storms in the region which had caused the mountainous area that surrounded the valley to weaken and give way, toppling onto the small unsuspecting village. Scott, Virgil, and Gordon had gone in to help with the rescue relief. Unfortunately, it had been too late for some residents who had died in the initial landslide. Sadly, it had also been the first time that they had lost lives after the rescue had taken place. Towards the end of the rescue, all three of them had been doing final checks when Virgil had heard a noise. Since the previous hour had been spent pulling out the bodies of those who had died. Scott and Gordon had believed that fatigue and stress were affecting Virgil’s senses. However, refusing to back down Virgil had insisted on investigating further.

Eventually, due to a combination of Virgil’s instincts and quick thinking he had located the family who had been buried deep underneath their collapsed cabin. With his brothers help Virgil had been the one to crawl inside the makeshift entrance, discovering that the father had already passed away. The mother was wedged down, unconscious and bleeding out, while their two young sons were both alive, but badly injured. Realising immediately that there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable death of the woman. Virgil made the decision to get the two boys treated and out of there as quickly as possible. As he began to remove the second boy, the mother had come around in a state of blind panic. Not wanting to leave her on her own, Virgil had handed the child over to Scott, and remained with the woman. Talking to her and keeping her calm in her final moments.

After a short period of silence Gordon spoke. “What happened to the family afterwards?”

“Well, as there were no other family members to take them in, and the third brother was only 16 at the time; Maria, moved back into the family home, and supported her brothers while continuing to finish her studies and hold down her job,” Alan answered.

“So, what makes you think it’s her?” Scott asked. “She sounds like a decent person, who is doing what any self-respecting older sibling would do. Stepping up and doing what it takes to keep her family together!”

“Yes, she is,” John replied, “but there’s a lot more we have discovered!”

“Like what?” Gordon questioned.

“The injuries that her brothers received for a start,” John began, “the 14-year-old boy suffered a closed fracture to his skull, several broken ribs, and a broken leg. He had to undergo an operation for the leg fracture, and unfortunately this and his other injuries put an end to his promising football career.

“And the 12-year-old?” Scott enquired hesitantly.

John breathed out. “According to his medical notes a delay in being able to treat his back and leg injuries led to him having his one leg amputated, and permanent damage to his back. Unfortunately, because of this he’s been in a wheelchair since, and as had to undergo several operations.”

“So, you think that she blames International Rescue for not finding her family sooner, and the extent of her brother’s injuries?” Scott questioned.

John nodded.

“And when the Hood told her who Virgil was, it obviously fuelled her reason for doing this.” Penny suggested.

“Yes,” John replied, “that’s the conclusion me and Alan have come too. Plus, when we looked at her finances it showed that she’s been struggling to cover various bills, and even though most of the medical costs were sorted by the ACC, she’s still has to cover a lot of other expenses herself.”

“So, money would also be a big motivation for her!” Scott concluded.

“Exactly!” John confirmed.

At that point, the food that Parker had ordered arrived. He busied himself in getting everything ready, while the others quietly discussed the findings on Nurse Andrews. Once everyone had eaten the meeting continued.

“You said there was some interesting information on Sanderson as well?” Scott questioned.

John nodded. “For a start, the fact that she went through a lot in the first 10 years of her life and still ended up coming out as a Doctor.”

“Her childhood was rough?” Gordon asked.

“Rough,” Alan exclaimed, “that’s an understatement!”

“In what way?” Gordon queried.

Alan picked up the notes that he and John had been making and began. “Emily Sanderson, aged 32. Born in Scarsdale, New York. Her mother Rebecca Sanderson was only 16 at the time. It seems that Rebecca’s parents wanted her to give Emily up for adoption, but when she refused she was kicked out of the family home, and was left to raise Emily on her own!”

“Sounds like such responsible parenting!” Scott mumbled sarcastically.

“And what about the father?” Penelope probed.

“No mention of who the father was on her birth certificate, or anywhere else. I’m still checking some other avenues, so I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything,” John replied.

“So, what happened to Rebecca and Emily afterwards?” Gordon asked.

Alan continued. “Rebecca remained in New York, moving into a small self-contained apartment above a diner. She managed to get a fulltime job working in the diner as a waitress, while she attempted to put herself through a college course at night.”

“Attempted,” Parker commented, “what happened?”

“During the next three years, Rebecca fell in with a bad crowd, and started dating some guy named Daniel Burnt. She quit college, and eventually she lost her job and her home. Rebecca then moved herself and Emily into her boyfriend’s apartment,” John explained.

Alan continued. “Throughout the next few years Daniel, Rebecca and Emily moved around several times. During that time, both Rebecca and Emily were admitted to several different hospitals for numerous injuries, but due to them not staying in one place long enough nothing was brought up with any of the local authorities.” Alan paused, allowing everyone time to process the information before continuing. “When Emily was 7 years old, and they were living in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Rebecca gave birth to a son, and they named him Warren Sanderson Burnt. They seemed to stop moving around during the first year of Warren’s life. However, a month after Emily had turned 8; Daniel attempted to rob a convenient store, and killed the young man who was on duty at the time. When the police turned up, he attempted to flee the scene, but he was shot dead.”

Scott exhaled. “What happened next?”

“The next two years, Rebecca continued to move around with Emily and Warren in tow,” Alan replied, “but she failed to hold down any type of job, and struggled with various class A drugs.”

“How do you know that?” Scott asked.

John breathed out. “When Emily was 10, she was living back in New York with her mother and two-year-old brother. She returned home from school one day to discover her mother unconscious from an overdose.”

“Jesus!” Scott exclaimed. “Where was her brother?”

“According to police records he was asleep in his room at the time,” John explained.

“What became of Emily and Warren after that?” Parker questioned.

“They were both placed in care, while attempts were made to contact Rebecca’s parents,” John responded.

“And let me guess,” Scott scoffed, “they didn’t want to know!”

John nodded. “Luckily though, they did manage to contact Rebecca’s older sister Zara. From what I’ve found, she had been away from home travelling when Rebecca had been kicked out, and had made several failed attempts to track her sister down. Zara was 28 at the time, and had a stable income working as an Anaesthetist. She happily took on the role of parenting both Emily and Warren, and moved them into her home in Oakland, Chicago.”

“And Rebecca?” Gordon asked.

“Apparently, Rebecca tried to get herself clean and see her children again, but when it was obvious she wasn’t succeeding, full parental rights were awarded to Zara.” Alan responded.

“Two years after losing custody of her children Rebecca seems to disappear,” John added. “I’m hoping that once I’ve checked a few more records, I will find out what became of her.”

“What happened to Emily and Warren after moving in with Zara?” Penelope enquired.

“Really good for Emily,” John confirmed, “I’ve found a few reports saying that she obviously struggled at first, but once she had started seeing a counsellor, and began settling in with her aunt things began to turn around for her. Emily did extremely well at school, gaining the highest marks within her class, and went on to complete a pre-med undergraduate study at The University of Illinois. She then passed the Medical College Admissions Test and was excepted onto a scholarship programme at Stanford University, where she completed her medical degree. She went on to complete her residency at a hospital in California.”

“And what about her brother?” Scott asked.

“Warren has done okay himself. He got decent grades at school and went on to do an apprenticeship at a garage fixing cars,” Alan replied.

“So, when did Emily move to New Zealand?” Gordon questioned.

“About two years ago, which was a year after completing her residency. She moved with her aunt and brother to Auckland. Warren started his own business fixing cars and bikes, and both Emily and Zara successfully registered with the Medical Council of New Zealand. Zara now works in a smaller hospital just outside of Oakland, while Emily’s been working here at Good Hope Hospital ever since.”

“And do we know why they left the US?” Gordon asked.

John shook his head. “That’s the second thing that’s intriguing about her. They just seem to up and leave, and it’s a complete mystery as to why they would move away. All of them had good jobs, were well paid, and Emily was tipped to rise within her chosen field.”

Scott frowned. “There must be some reason they left.”

“I will keep checking to see if I can find anything.” John assured him.

“So, she doesn’t have any motivation for wanting to help the Hood or hurt Virgil?” Penny questioned.

“Not that I can find,” John confirmed, “but as I said I will keep looking.”

After a short period of silence Scott spoke. “Okay, we all seem to agree that Andrews as the motivation to do this, but we need proof. Also, there’s still so much more that we don’t know about Sanderson, that it could still possibly be her. John, you and Alan have been doing a fantastic job so far. So, I want you both to continue with these checks and to see what else you can find out on both women.”

“No problem!” John and Alan both responded.

“Penny you mentioned that you had some information on places that the Hood was possibly using as a hideout before being arrested?”

“Yes Scott, I have all of the information with me.” Penny confirmed.

“Good. Myself and Gordon will check them out and see what we can find.”

Penny nodded. “Perfect! That will free up my time to visit your father and Virgil at the hospital. Once I’ve put my mind at rest that your brother will be alright, myself and Parker will then make a visit to the Hood. Hopefully, this invention that Brains has come up with to block the Hoods mindpowers will work, and it will stop the Hood escaping again”

“Okay,” Scott responded, secretly smiling to himself when Penny had said that she needed to ‘check in’ on Virgil. Knowing all too well that she had a soft spot for his younger brother, which had grown since the Anderbad incident, when Virgil had rescued her from certain death.

“Right bro, are you ready?” Gordon asked Scott.

Scott nodded and stood up readying himself to leave, but was stopped by Parker, handing him some tranquiliser guns and ammunition. “Just in case either of you come up against any trouble.” Parker assured them.

Scott took the tranq guns. “Thanks Parker… Right. John, Alan. We’ll see you later, keep in touch and let us know how you are getting on.”

“Will do,” John and Alan echoed.

“Okay,” Scott grinned, “Gordon let’s go!”

…

Notes:

THE ACC: The Accident Compensation Corporation.

The Crest Valley is an area I made up for the purposes of this story.

The disaster that Nurse Andrews family were involved in does not occur in any episodes and is completely made up for the purposes of this story.

NEXT. C40, Missions.

The Anderbad incident that Scott refers to (Virgil rescuing Penny) Is from an episode in the Original Series called, 'The Perils of Penelope.'

[flipperdipper10]

Five Nights at Phoenix x Wonderland, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: The Miya Girls Search and Rescue Squad

Coming back from the Sekai there was one person that Saki immediately needed to contact. Lunch break was still going on, so there was no better time than now to strike. Saki hurried to Class 1-A to find the person in question.

“Kohane~!” Saki called out as she slid open the door. Sure enough, the biggest fan of Phoenix x Wonderland was sitting there eating her lunch in peace.

She jumped upon hearing her name. “Wah! S-Saki? What are you doing here?” Kohane asked.

Saki walked over to her, pulling up a desk. “I need your help with something. Do you think you can lend a hand?”

“Depends on what it is...” Kohane responded, very unsure.

“Do you want to break into Phennyland incredibly late at night?” 

Kohane stopped. She stared at Saki, blinking a few times as she tried to process the question. “I-I’m sorry you want to do what?”

“Do you want to break into Phennyland with me?” Saki repeated, just as earnestly as before.

“I’m fairly sure that’s illegal.” Kohane pointed out. “Plus, um... why do you even want to go? After the landslide there really isn’t much there anymore.”

Saki had to agree there. “Well yeah... but I feel like something isn’t quite right about the disappearances.”

“Oh.” Kohane said, realizing what Saki meant.

“Nobody even bothered to look for them. Don’t you find that weird? That’s why I want to go into Phennyland myself and get to the bottom of things!” Saki declared. “I know you were really close to Emu, so... that’s why I want to ask you if you wanted to come with me!”

Now Kohane was thinking. “I mean... I’ve noticed that too. I asked around if there was anyone who had seen Emu before the incident, and nobody had seen her once during the day. Same for the other cast members.”

She looked back over at Saki. “What are you hoping to find there?”

“Anything that could give me a clue on what happened to my brother and his friends.” Saki said. “I don’t care what it is. I’ll take newspaper clippings, destroyed structures, even...” She looked down, lowering her voice. “Even a body, if that’s what it takes to get to the bottom of this.” 

“Saki...”

Kohane placed one hand on her chin, trying to think. “If you wanted to search around the park, it’d be best if you brought your own light source. I don’t think the park lights still work anymore after the landslide. Do you have any ideas on where it is that you might find a clue?”

“I want to check the Wonder Stage first. It was where they all spent most of their time, so if there’s something under the rubble or hidden away, that’s the first place I’d look.” Saki reasoned. “From there... maybe the Phoenix Stage? That seems like another place my brother might have gone. But I’m not too sure.”

By now, Kohane had started to sincerely consider it. “I can think of a few extra places as well... But I still have rehearsal with my team, and my parents are going to wonder where I am late at night if I sneak out.”

Ah right. Parents. Saki had completely skipped over that part. Her mom would probably veto the idea the second it was brought up. “Then we’ll just have to sneak out when nobody is awake!” She declared. “Like the vigilante superheroes we are, finding the truth when authority has failed us. We strike at midnight and-”

“Okay, okay, stop!” Kohane started laughing at the ridiculous voice Saki was putting on. “So, midnight then... I could try and sneak out. But we still have school this week. We’d need to be back home before our parents are awake.”

The two thought together. “School starts at 8 in the morning. So, maybe if we get out of the park by 6 AM, we’d have several hours to get back home?” 

That made sense to both of them. “Then we’d need rides... none of us can drive, and I doubt the trains and buses are open at that time.” Saki said.

“Phennyland is pretty close to both of our houses, isn’t it? We could just walk.” Kohane said in reply. 

“Then we shall walk!” 

“Do we want to meet up prior to going to the gates?”

“Hey, why don’t we go shopping for things we need after school today?”

And just like that, the two had formed their coalition.

“Alright, let’s call practice there.” Akito said. “You all did good today.”

“Real good!” An cheered, sighing in relaxation. “Kohane you were on top of your game today!” She patted Kohane on the back, causing the other to blush profusely. 

“Make sure you rest up well this week.” Toya said. “With the event next week, we don’t want to risk any health issues.”

Akito nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Get some sleep this week. You’re going to need it.”

Kohane could only give a small sheepish laugh. “I-I’ll do my best! Haha...” She didn’t want to lie to them about going to the park. “Anyway, I think I need to get home now. There’s some homework I need to finish.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, Kohane!” An waved as Kohane scurried off to the train station. She had a long night ahead of her, and she needed her sleep.

“Ichika! You’re falling behind!” Shiho barked at the guitarist. The band had rented out their typical practice room for rehearsal today.

“S-Sorry!” Ichika meekly responded, her playing coming to a strict halt. “I’d like to run through that section again, if you don’t mind...”

Honami checked her wristwatch. “I’d love to as well, but I think we’re out of time for today.” She said.

Shiho mumbled a few choice words to herself before letting out a sigh. “Alright. Let that section be your homework, Ichika. As for the rest of you, you know what you need to work on.”

Saki slowly packed up her keyboard, heart racing. She was actually going to break into the park. She could hardly contain herself. 

“Saki.” Shiho’s voice brought her back to reality.

She turned towards the bassist. “Y-Yeah?���

Shiho seemed concerned by something. “Be careful tonight.” She said.

Did she know? Saki frowned for a moment, trying to think. Maybe they were overheard in Sekai? Maybe Miku told her? She pulled out a smile once more. “Aw, thanks!”

The gates of Phoenix x Wonderland loomed before the two of them. The landslide had knocked part of the gate loose, making a large opening where the ticket gate was previously. A large metal fence had been set up around the whole park by the police, preventing anyone from easily getting inside. But it didn’t take very long until the two of them found a small hole where the fences connected to slip through to get inside. “It’s midnight...” Kohane mumbled, checking her phone. “Are you sure this a good idea? I don’t think we should be here.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” Saki assured her. “There shouldn’t be anyone else here. We’ll just get to the Wonder Stage, search around, and be out before 6 AM!” She confidently pointed towards the park. “And so, the first mission of the Miya Girls Search and Rescue Squad has officially begun!”

Kohane snickered at the name. “W-When was that name decided?” She giggled.

“On my way here! Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing.”

The two slowly stepped down and across the rickety and unstable earth to walk over to the park, flicking on their flashlights as they made it to the park gates. Saki led the way, stopping right in front of the ticket gates. “Tsukasa... I will find you. I promise.” She whispered, before she and Kohane stepped inside.

[idontgotnosense]

People ABSOLUTELY CAN decide that a particular candidate, while horribly flawed as a human Being (though not nearly as awful as your description claims) is still preferable to the empty-suit who was anointed by the powers that be to fill Joe Biden's absence (after a process that did not exactly instill faith in the Democrat Party) It will be quite common for parents and elders all across our country to explain to youngsters that while Trump was the better choice for preserving our way of life, not every single aspect of his personality is to be adopted....and, certainly, some of the incidents in which he has been rumored to have been involved are nowhere near acceptable. If you leftists want to be sanctimonious about elections that do not go your way (and I know you do!) you need to nominate serious candidates....especially for the presidency. You may believe the right's candidate to be an immoral, foolish, somewhat nutty, horror of a human Being. However, you lose the needed credibility to claim this when your candidate was such a joke. I know people who desperately looked for any excuse to not vote for Trump, and felt they had after the lone debate.....then they observed her bungle every single interview, speech, reaction, etc for 3 months. Her problem was not that she lacked sufficient time to "allow voters to get to know her." Before voters knew her (and she had the help of pre-knowledge of debate questions and a bluetooth earring) she was clearly winning. Had the campaign lasted another month, she'd have been truly landslided. This is the candidate who, despite being given a pole-position in the 2020 Dem primary, could not last beyond Iowa (the very first contest) she blew all of her money, finished 4th, or something and had to drop out (then became Biden's DEI running mate) She is a terrible candidate. Yes, Trump has some issues and his ascension to the country's highest office is troubling in many ways, but Democrats need to look in the mirror, not continue to chastise voters over Trump. Give them someone worthy of being president to vote for instead of Trump.....y'all failed to do so, and thus can close your mouths. It's not "voters are so awful to have elected such a man AGAIN!" It is "how sad that the closest thing to a competent candidate who will fight to keep our way of life intact on the ticket comes in the body of this flawed person."

The Trump voter will now own their decision to betray all decent people.

#cowards

[lordrul]

The Kuala Mu Incident

Our trip began on October 11th, 2024. We headed to Kampung Beswok to stay at the Orang Asli Chalet.

The journey there was challenging—steep roads and multiple traces of landslides along the way. Still, we managed to arrive after a four-hour drive from Kuala Lumpur.

Upon checking in, the chalet greeted us with its natural beauty. A clear, refreshing river flowed right beside it, and the water was icy cold, likely because of the recent rain.

However, I couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling. Even during the drive, there were moments when I felt like turning back.

After playing in the river for a bit, an elderly Orang Asli man approached us, smiling warmly as he looked at Jazz. He reached out toward her, but I wasn’t comfortable with his intentions. I gently blocked him from getting close and carried Jazz inside the chalet. When I politely asked him to leave, he lingered for a moment, even trying to enter the chalet while still focused on Jazz. Eventually, he left, but the encounter left me unsettled.

Later, a foul smell filled the chalet—something rotten, perhaps a dead lizard or mouse. As we ate dinner, a small mouse scurried into the room, but we managed to chase it out.

Though we made it through the night, the atmosphere never felt right. First thing after breakfast the next morning, we checked out.

We packed everything and hit the road. Since it was still early, we decided to explore another Orang Asli village—Pos Kuala Mu.

The drive to Pos Kuala Mu took another hour, with steep climbs and rough, challenging roads. I even had to engage the SUV's 4WD to manage the terrain. When we finally arrived, the place felt different—more modern than Kampung Beswok. The river there was wider and flowed with more strength. The villagers seemed friendlier, and there were many cars from outside the area parked around. I learned that these belonged to hikers who had come to climb Mount Yong Yap.

We parked for a short while to explore the area and check out the river. But when we returned to the car and tried to leave, I noticed the engine temperature was alarmingly high. I immediately turned off the engine, popped the hood, and saw that coolant was leaking from the radiator.

It hit me that we were two hours from the nearest town, with no workshop nearby, and the radiator was damaged. Panic began to creep in as I tried to figure out what to do. Some villagers and visitors came over to help, offering food, letting us rest in a small hut, and even giving us contacts for workshops (in Ipoh). Their kindness made a big difference in that stressful moment.

I contacted my insurance company, but they warned me it would be difficult to get a tow truck to such a remote area. Even if they found someone willing to come, it would take at least two hours for the truck to reach us.

We ended up stuck there from 11 a.m. until 5 p.m. During that time, we made friends with the visitors, the villagers, and even the Tok Batin, the village chief. Their hospitality made the waiting bearable and gave us a glimpse of their way of life.

Finally, around 5 p.m., a tow truck arrived. Our SUV was loaded onto the truck, and we rode with the driver as we left Pos Kuala Mu, heading toward Ipoh. The ride was nerve-wracking, with the heavy load and steep, winding roads making the journey feel precarious. I held Jazz close the entire way, trying to distract myself by chatting with the driver.

It was a long, exhausting day, but the kindness of strangers made all the difference in getting us through it.

Three hours later, at 8 p.m., we arrived at the workshop, BTG Motorsport Empire. I had been in contact with them throughout the day, explaining the issue with our SUV and trying to figure out what needed to be done. As soon as we arrived, they took the SUV in and got straight to work. The boss inspected the radiator and confirmed it was beyond repair and needed immediate replacement. Without hesitation, I agreed. Thankfully, the price they quoted was reasonable, especially for a weekend night.

Jazz was clearly exhausted, and I knew we needed to get her to the hotel as soon as possible. I mentioned to the boss that we were staying at a hotel just five minutes away, and to my surprise, he offered to have one of their staff drive us there. Alhamdulillah—what incredible service!

We checked in at Dutaria Hotel Ipoh, grabbed some snacks from a nearby 99 Speedmart, and took the long-awaited bath we desperately needed. I tucked Jazz and her mama in to rest, but I still had to return to the workshop to follow up on the SUV repairs.

I got back to the workshop around 10:15 p.m., and by 11 p.m., the team had already replaced the radiator. They ran a thorough test to make sure everything was functioning perfectly. Once I completed the payment, I drove the SUV back to the hotel. It was late, the rain was falling steadily, and I was beyond exhausted, but I felt a deep sense of relief. Everything was finally in order. I must say, BTG Motorsport Empire is one of the best workshops I’ve ever encountered—their professionalism and customer service were top-notch. They weren’t a large operation, but their dedication made all the difference.

The next morning, we allowed ourselves the luxury of sleeping in. After packing up and grabbing lunch, we headed back home to Kuala Lumpur.

Looking back, I’m just grateful for all the kind-hearted people we met along the way. From the villagers to the workshop staff, everyone lent a hand when we needed it the most. Thank you to all of them.

[beardedmrbean]

Millions of people across Southeast Asia struggled Thursday with flooded homes, power cuts and wrecked infrastructure after Typhoon Yagi swept through the region, as the death toll passed 250.

In worst-hit Vietnam, the fatalities rose to 226, with nine confirmed dead in northern Thailand — where one district is suffering its worst floods in 80 years.

Myanmar’s national fire service confirmed the country’s first Yagi-related deaths after 17 bodies were recovered from flooded villages in the Mandalay region, while more than 50,000 people have been forced from their homes.

Yagi brought a colossal deluge of rain that has inundated a swathe of northern Vietnam, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar, triggering deadly landslides and widespread river flooding.

One farmer on the edge of Hanoi told AFP his entire 1,800 square metre peach blossom plantation was submerged, destroying all 400 of his trees.

“It will be so hard for me to recover from this loss — I think I will lose up to $40,000 this season,” said the farmer, who gave his name only as Tu.

“I really don’t know what to do now, I’m just waiting for the water to recede.”

The United Nations children’s agency (UNICEF) said the typhoon had damaged more than 140,000 homes across 26 provinces in Vietnam.

Floodwaters in Vietnam are receding, draining through the Red River — the main watercourse in the area — into the sea.

Authorities in several districts in the Red River delta ordered more than 50,000 people to evacuate their homes as a precaution while the runoff passes through.

– Communications cut off –

The floods have devastated more than 250,000 hectares of crops and huge numbers of livestock, Vietnam’s agriculture ministry said, with farmland around Hanoi hit hard.

In the deadliest single incident, a landslide in Lao Cai province annihilated an entire village of 37 houses, killing at least 42 people with 53 still unaccounted for.

Rescue teams pulled victims from the mud on Thursday, carrying them on stretchers to makeshift shelters where neighbours and relatives carefully washed the bodies in readiness for burial.

Survivors picked through the mud and wreckage to retrieve what family heirlooms and possessions they could find.

Fifteen bodies have been recovered in Cao Bang province after a landslide on Monday pushed a bus, along with several cars and motorbikes, into a stream, state media said Thursday.

– Myanmar camps –

Myanmar’s junta government has set up around 50 camps to help people affected by the floods, Lay Shwe Zin Oo, director of the social welfare, relief and resettlement ministry told AFP.

The Global New Light of Myanmar, the state-run newspaper, said train services on the main line between Yangon and Mandalay were suspended because some sections were flooded.

The Mekong River Commission, the international body overseeing the crucial waterway, issued a flood warning on Thursday for the historic Laotian city of Luang Prabang.

The Mekong is expected to hit flood levels in the coming days in Luang Prabang, a UNESCO world heritage site, the commission said in a bulletin.

In Thailand the death toll has risen to nine, the Department of Disaster Prevention and Mitigation said, including six killed in landslides in Chiang Mai province.

All flights were suspended in and out of the airport in Chiang Rai, some 145 kilometres (90 miles) northeast of Chiang Mai, aviation authorities said.

Further north, Mae Sai district on the border with Myanmar is suffering its worst floods in 80 years, Suttipong Juljarern, a senior interior ministry official said in a statement.

The Jet Ski Association of Thailand has sent 16 jet skis to help with relief efforts, Dechnarong Suticharnbancha, the body’s president told AFP.

Some of the currents in the floodwaters are too strong for normal boats but jet skis are able to navigate them because of their powerful engines.

A video showing champion jet skier Kasidit Teeraprateep rescuing an old woman from a torrent of murky water circulated on Thai social media.

Heavy monsoon rains lash Southeast Asia every year, but human-made climate change is causing more intense weather patterns that can make destructive floods more likely.

Climate change is causing typhoons to form closer to the coast, intensify faster and stay longer over land, according to a study published in July.

[sa7abnews]

UK spies attempting to recruit Russian diplomats – ambassador

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/16/uk-spies-attempting-to-recruit-russian-diplomats-ambassador/

UK spies attempting to recruit Russian diplomats – ambassador

Moscow’s envoy to London has described the alleged efforts as “unacceptable”

British intelligence services have been attempting to recruit or threaten Russian diplomats working in the UK, Moscow’s ambassador to London Andrey Kelin has claimed. Speaking to RIA Novosti on Thursday, Kelin said “such instances do take place,” describing them as “unacceptable.” The Russian Embassy has made a point of drawing the British authorities’ attention to the incidents, he added. Commenting on the previous Conservative government’s decision to expel Russia’s military attaché, strip a number of properties of their diplomatic status, as well as restrict the issuance of diplomatic visas in May, the ambassador suggested that these steps had largely been taken to score political points at home ahead of the UK parliamentary election in July, which resulted in a landslide defeat for the Tories anyway.

Read more

European state mulls shutting down Ukrainian embassy

Ambassador Kelin noted that Moscow had responded in kind by expelling the British military attaché – a move that was quite predictable, he added. While London’s decision did make life more difficult for Russian diplomats in the UK, it also seriously undermined Britain’s own interests, the ambassador claimed. He clarified that “London… knowingly severed channels of military-diplomatic dialogue during a period of unprecedented escalation… in Europe.” Russian Ambassador to Washington Anatoly Antonov had voiced similar concerns regarding the US in an interview with RIA Novosti in March, relaying that the “situation around the [Russian] embassy is indeed complicated.” “I can’t help but mention the unhealthy attention of [US] special services to Russian diplomats,” Antonov stated. He alleged that embassy staff had received offers to cooperate with US authorities on their personal mobile phones, and that agents had approached them in public places. In June, Antonov lamented that Washington had decided to shut down the Russian visa centers in Washington and New York. The envoy noted that the move had placed a “serious extra burden” on Moscow’s diplomatic presence in the US, which had already been “drained of blood” due to expulsions of Russian staff. Antonov also denounced Washington’s revocation of the tax exemption status of Russian Embassy personnel as a “petty, nasty attack.” According to the envoy, while the US authorities had failed to provide any reasoning for their actions, the intent may have been to “force our diplomats to hide behind the walls of the embassy, to stop communicating and working.” “This will not happen. Until the last diplomat, while we remain here, we will keep performing our duties,” Antonov stressed.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Tending to the windmills of Sunderlow Lagoon

To my surprise, cleaning windmills was strangely therapeutic. I mean, it’s not something I would want to do again anytime soon, just once is enough for an unusual experience. Jamie’s used to doing these seemingly mundane things, though in her case, there’s always something more than that. In other words, while cleaning the windmills is only part of the actual task, which has to do with preserving history.

Sunderlow Lagoon was once a busy city consisting mainly of humans and elven mages. However, over the centuries, the population gradually moved up north when the main road became inaccessible due to a landslide, reducing the city to a small village. Most of the surrounding places outside of Sunderlow are now ghost towns, a few which have become historical landmarks.

One of the reasons why Sunderlow remains is because the windmills are historical landmarks. They were built around 3000 years ago back when only elven mages lives there and are still well maintained to this day, though centuries of wear and tear have been taking a toll on them. Due to a pretty bad rainy season, a lot of the windmills are in need of a deep clean as well as an extensive inspection.

These days, Sunderlow’s residents are mainly human, save for one elven mage family. The only remaining elf is Merrill, a legal advisor and record keeper, the latter a position he inherited from his sister Katalina, who passed away about a decade ago. Katalina has two half human children, daughter Celie and son Ace, both who were adopted by Merrill since their father lives in another country. They’re part of the Lawine Clan, one of the few remaining elven mage families that are still active in the community.

Katalina had served as the windmill keeper and record keeper for centuries until her death at the Sunderlow Rail Crossing incident. Then her brother inherited those roles, and has since passed off the title of windmill keeper to Celie, who is now in charge of everything related to the windmills.

Celie knew she’d take over one day, though she thought it would be because her mother would want to retire. The windmills not only serve as a landmark, they also represent the partnership between the humans and the elves. Also, according to travelers outside of the area, the windmills are considered to be a sign of good luck - Merrill’s not sure where that originated from, except that people started saying that about a couple centuries after the last windmill was completed.

There’s eleven windmills in total - they built the first ten centuries ago while the last one was built as a memorial for the nine victims the Sunderlow Rail Crossing accident. Katalina and Ace were taking the bus as usual when it suddenly stalled on the railway crossing. Normally, the bus doesn’t go around that area, but there was some construction work going on that led to a detour. It also didn’t help that the bus that was driven that day was known to have a lot of issues despite various complaints, as well as pressure from the elf siblings to either fix it or replace it.

Ace still remembers the last few moments before the train hit the bus, something that’ll stay with him forever. He was sitting next to his mother that day and recalled how people were freaking out when they saw the train approaching. He looked out the window for a brief second before holding his mother and braced for the impact. Katalina was killed instantly along with 5 other passengers while Ace and around 50 others were injured.

Sunderlow is usually a quiet place, so given the severity of the accident, including the fact that their eldest resident was one of the victims, the whole thing caused quite a stir. Ace went through a long and difficult recovery as he had to relearn how to speak and write, as well as adjust to being an amputee. Merrill and Celie were grieving and dealing with their own struggles in the aftermath, though they managed to push on, not only for the sake of the town, but for themselves too.

They say that tragedy can either make or break a community - it depends on how they choose to deal with it. According to Merrill and Jamie, elves tend to be very persistent, something that can either work for or against them. It’s safe to say that because they are long lived species, they’ve seen a lot more, so it kinda makes them tougher in a sense, more likely to be able to endure difficult conditions and just push through it compared to mortals.

I recall Raiden saying that different long life species tend to have particular traits that kinda help with immortality, if that makes sense. For example, her kind is said to have a tendency to be flighty, which ends up working in their favor as they’re easily adaptable to the changing times. So, in the case of elven mages, that need to carry on with life helped Sunderlow to not just move on from the tragedy, but to also honor the lives lost and make sure history never repeats itself.

Celie and Ace credit Merrill for picking up the pieces after the tragedy, which obviously wasn’t easy for him. Being alive for centuries carries a lot of burdens itself, and to deal with the sudden loss of someone close to you, along with two grieving kids - it’s rough. He admits that he can’t live up to his sister’s name as she was the kind of person who forged her own way. He doesn’t give himself enough credit obviously as he’s achieved a lot of accomplishments himself though. It’s tough living in someone shadow, so it’s easy to underestimate yourself in that aspect.

When the people here talk about the windmills, the first things that they associate with that is Katalina as she was the most involved out of the Lawine clan in the process of building them. Merrill said the extent of his involvement was helping out with the final designs, though he later was responsible for maintenance and upkeep, especially as the windmills began showing signs of wear and tear.

Their father was running things for a couple centuries before retiring and traveling the world. By then, the windmills were falling apart to the point that the usual cleaning wasn’t going to cut it. Also, because of the landslide years earlier, many surrounding areas were becoming ghost towns, so everyone assumed that Sunderlow would eventually fall to the same fate. However, Katalina, Merrill, and a bunch of others refused to let that happen.

First of all, the windmills were, and still are, a big deal, not just to the town folk, but to travelers as well. Secondly, deserting Sunderlow would mean cutting off an entire area that was once a popular travel route, which would eventually lead to more problems in the future. One side argued that there was no point in maintaining the windmills anymore since people were leaving. The other side argued that the windmills give people a reason to come here, especially travelers who have to pass by that route, so even if Sunderlow becomes a ghost town too, at least they can leave something behind as a memory that will also serve to help travelers find their way.

After weighing the pros and cons of both sides, Sunderlow and the remaining towns decided to keep maintaining the windmills, this time with Katalina running things. And as it turns out, they made the right decision. The windmills are the reason why Sunderlow Lagoon remains on the map while the surrounding areas gradually became deserted, which then prompted officials to build a new road that was reinforced so it wouldn’t get blocked off in case another landslide happens.

The restoration process took years to complete, and Katalina was persistent about it. There were times when things didn’t work out, even a few attempts at sabotage, but Katalina quickly turned things around. Eventually, her efforts paid off, and she was sort of labeled as a hero, though she didn’t really appreciate that title. As far as she and her family are concerned, they’re just ordinary civilians like everyone else.

These days, Sunderlow serves as a checkpoint for travelers coming from a long way. Because of the mountains ahead, most choose to stay for a couple days to rest and replenish their supplies. And of course, to see the windmills, which takes all day if you want to see all of them. The general consensus is that it’s totally worth it, and having seen them up close in person, I totally agree!

For the next few centuries, things were pretty uneventful for Merrill and Katalina. They did join their parents during their travels for a time, which was how Katalina met her ex-husband, a director from overseas. While it wasn’t an entirely unhappy marriage, there didn’t seem to be much going on. Basically, they had a fling, which is unusual for elven mages, and she became pregnant with Celie. Since both parents were the old fashioned type with statuses to uphold, the couple was forced to marry. So they stuck it out for a couple years before splitting up.

Celie and Ace see their father as more of a distant acquaintance, someone who only shows up like once a year to give them gifts, ask generic “How are you?” questions, and leaves. Celie described him as someone who isn’t meant to be a parent because he lacks emotional maturity, which became apparent after the accident at the crossing. In other words, he wasn’t able to deal with Ace becoming disabled after the accident. Considering they were never close to begin with, Celie and Ace aren’t surprised that he’d distance himself like that.

As much as they love and respect their mother, Celie and Ace admit that she has her flaws, particularly when it comes to taking on too many responsibilities. Jamie said that the source of Merrill’s, and later Celie’s stress was because of Katalina’s over ambitiousness, which inevitably led to her running herself to the ground. In other words, her persistence and stubbornness can sometimes lead to her putting herself through situations where she’s unhappy with because she refuses to give up after putting so much time and effort into something. Her marriage is an example of that. And some of the questionable decisions she made over the years regarding the windmills - which is why they needed the extra help.

In short, one of the restoration and cleaning methods that was done in the past has not held up well over the centuries, especially after that last rainy season. Merrill and Katalina actually argued over that, with him being concerned about the long term while she was focused more on the immediate results. Well, he said what’s done is done - though he turned out to be right in the end. Ace and Linnea are pretty sure that the main reason why Katalina won out was because she’s the older sibling, which probably adds up.

(Disclaimer, I am the older sibling, though I doubt I’ve won arguments because of that… Or maybe I have but never realized it…)

So, cleaning windmills, surprisingly therapeutic. I think it helps that it wasn’t as physically strenuous as I thought, probably because we have a big group. Also, magic was used, which definitely speeds things up. The only downside of that spell is that it only works in small sections because if you try to clean a large area, there’s a high chance that something will go wrong. When it comes to historical landmarks, that’s not a risk anyone’s willing to take.

While the spell does most of the heavy lifting, we still have to go in and clean up some hard to reach corners, nothing too intensive. And then comes the restoration part, which is mostly simple things like applying the protective glaze and touching up on small areas. For stuff that requires more inspection, like water damage or large cracks we mark those areas off for the professionals to handle.

Watching the spell do its magic reminds me of those powerwashing videos that are oddly satisfying to watch sometimes. Like, it’s amazing to see how the bricks and tiles transform when it’s all cleaned up, almost like new.

Like I said, the windmills are worth spending a day checking out. Each windmill has its own unique and intricate design, sort of a whimsical folk art mosaic type, if that makes sense. I noticed a lot of flower motifs, which makes sense because there’s lots of wildflowers around here. They’re very colorful and bright with accents of gold and silver, something you’d expect to look out of place in nature, but they actually go well with the surroundings. If they were suddenly to disappear, Sunderlow Lagoon would look bare and desolate.

Of course, I took a lot of pics of the windmills for art inspo. I’ve been feeling art blocked lately, which is why I haven’t been drawing as much. Though I enjoy collaging, I do want to get back into drawing and seeing the windmills is exactly what I think I need. The colors in particular have been inspiring to me, probably because I don’t really play with color enough, so I want to use this as an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone.

It’s amazing to learn how much history and significance something like a windmill has just by being around. Save for the last one, which serves as a memorial, the original ten have been around for centuries as not only a landmark, but a symbol of peace and good luck.

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