#severe weather procedures

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

WhatNOAADoes -- Upcoming @Nws #Skywarn #stormspotter training sessions in the @wdefnews12 area counties over the next few weeks.

Register for information at the various host NWS Offices at weather.gov

[mosoderbergh]

Emmrich and the good old fashioned body heat trope

Ok, there’a a thing about Rook and Emmrich pre-romance and the “caught in the cold” trope that is just beautiful to me. Because it would go a lot more innocently than with other pairings. Emmrich is far too much of a gentleman. But that’s what makes this so cute. Like… hear me out.

Emmrich knows the importance of keeping warm and the advantages of sharing body heat. He’s the sort of man who would read up on survival procedures before venturing out into extreme weather.

But surely, a shirt is thin enough to not significantly hinder the transmission of warmth. Surely he couldn’t be expected to strip entirely. He gets rid of some layers, but stays buttoned up to his neck. (Rook is shirtless the moment the words “it might be advisable to, well, huddle up” exit Emmrich’s mouth. They notice Emmrich spends the rest of the night holding intently focussed eye contact.) They cocoon themselves in blankets, sitting by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, backs leaning against insert obligatory cave/cliffside/tree trunk here. Emmrich has read just enough bodice rippers that an image comes, unbidden, to his mind. Of a broad-chested hero gallantly drawing the object of his desire into his muscled arms as they shiver and swoon. He is shocked at himself when he feels a blush creep up his neck. To even allow such a thought! This is nothing like that. A dashing hero may be present, yes, but they are caught in the cold with a colleague several decades their senior. There is nothing swoonworthy about it.

Emmrich files the thought away, and despite the awkward situation, the evening goes on… really rather pleasantly. They end up talking for a good long while. Rook opens up about their own upbringing and Emmrich elaborates on his. They share nostalgic memories. Emmrich recounts some shenanigans from his student days, and Rook can’t believe there’s a mischievous side to him (the mischievous side in question was called Johanna, but Emmrich doesn’t speak her name).

At some point, the comfortable silences stretch out longer and longer. Rook’s head rests on Emmrich’s shoulder. They aren’t quite asleep yet - when he reacts to the contact with an intake of breath, they draw back for a moment. But then, Emmrich leans in, just slightly. Just enough to let them know the touch is not unwelcome. The way Rook curls up at his side then makes Emmrich ache a little. As someone who is an authority figure to so many people (in a way that isolates him sometimes) this simple act of intimacy is precious to him. A show of trust on such a personal level. It takes him more courage than he’d like to admit to rest his cheek against Rook’s hair. The way Rook sighs contentedly gives him goosebumps. It’s been quite a while since Emmrich has shared a bed with anyone. And this is an unusual situation, but still… he can’t help but think how he has missed it. The companionship. The warmth. Sinking into sleep with the comfort of a friendly presence. The intoxicating closeness of someone who has found their way into his heart - this is another thought he tucks away neatly.

And because I can’t resist another trope, of COURSE they shift in their sleep. Emmrich wakes to find himself spooning Rook, with one hand resting on their stomach. They are soft there, and radiating heat. Emmrich thanks every deity he can recount that he tends to wake up early, because if he hadn’t been hard upon waking, the sensation of their body against his, their skin underneath his fingertips would have done the trick. He retreats discreetly to lie on his back. Only for Rook to shift and settle with their head on his chest, one leg draping over him, grazing his erection in the movement. Emmrich forgets to breathe.

He does wake them up, after he’s gotten a hold of himself somewhat. They untangle from him with a sleepy apology. And Emmrich, for a moment, wants nothing more than to stop them, or pull them back into an embrace, or…

He chastises himself for being a touch-starved old fool. Making so much out of nothing. But then Rook slides a hand up to squeeze his shoulder, and they smile at him brightly, beautifully, and ask him if he slept well. And it’s all he can do to swallow a rather wordy confession of his growing infatuation.

(The beauty of Emmrich, to me, is that he’s both a “I could out-sex any man in this room” kind of guy AND an “omg I can’t believe our hands touched” kind of guy. I love him.)

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

speaking of professional dx, i think it's important to recognize that professionally dx'd disabled people are at a severe legal disadvantage compared to disabled people who purely self-id; one of the reasons i'm so intensely pro-self-dx and actively advocate for people to self-dx over professional dxing is because professional diagnosis comes with a cavalcade of systemic oppression and violence from the state, no matter what country you're in.

some things that professional diagnosis of a disability might do, depending on what disability and which country you live in:

bar you from adopting children

get your preexisting children removed from your care

bar you from immigration to most countries

open you up to conservatorship or other form of legal guardianship past the age of majority by your parents or other adults who care for your medical needs, without regard for your consent

remove your ability to consent to medical procedures or withhold consent for medical procedures

bar you from accessing gender care (if trans)

obviously, there's plenty of resources that are artificially gatekept behind professional diagnosis, like mobility aids that are only affordable through insurance, prescription medication, testing like blood tests and MRIs, AAC devices, and more. but i think it's important to remember that those of us who need these things aren't necessarily privileged by our professional diagnoses, insomuch as we're forced into a situation where we have to subject ourselves to endless state violence via professional diagnosis in order to have access to those necessary resources.

i think it's particularly important for those of us professionally diagnosed to remember that. there's a tendency in some circles to treat professional diagnosis like it makes us better or more "legitimately disabled" than self-id disabled folks; this isn't true and it's important to remember that we shouldn't feel the need to define ourselves by a thing that actively harms us. plus, just because someone doesn't have a professional diagnosis doesn't mean they don't need the resources that are kept behind it; often it means they can't afford to weather the state violence that comes with the dx, and so instead they have to suffer without medication or aids or testing and have a significantly worse and shorter life because of this. just because they have legal privilege over you doesn't mean they necessarily have social privilege over you or quality-of-life privilege.

[theguarddogofallyourfeverdreams]

tadashi headcanons

tadashi is here

generally

goody two shoes

never touches alcohol; will get asian flush after the first two shots

has never grown out his hair past the middle of his ears

boxer briefs kinda guy

owns a collection of scarves and gloves because he likes being warm and cozy

plays guitar or some instrument (he has to hes asian asians know)

not only surfs (a surfboard can be seen in his part of the room in some scenes) but also plays tennis and runs

has been approached for modeling gigs because he's well built and tall but he's turned them down, simply not interested in them

not very active on social media but whenever he remembers he has an account he just posts whatever he found interesting for the day like it could be mochi, a bowl of ramen, or littered packaging on the side of the street and then he would disappear off the face of the platform

sent to karate lessons as a kid so knows a bit of self defense which came clutch in situations spawned by hiro's teenage recklessness

he's the type to hide his injuries from his loved ones but get worried over the smallest cuts for them

sleeps like a fucking rock he needs several alarms and even aunt cass telling hiro to cause a ruckus to wake him tf up

learned how to cook from aunt cass because sometimes she is busy and away and hiro gets hungry

learned japanese conversationally from while his parents were still around, routinely tries to upkeep and improve his language ability through japanese books, movies and media

tries to teach hiro and get him to do the same but with hiro's young age and boredom from school he really doesn't think about anything other than his own interests robotics projects and botfighting

listens to pop and calm instrumental music like bossa nova

lowkey a swiftie

heavily dependent on caffeine; like near finals and midterms he can't function without coffee

until at some point he tried out matcha and was completely blown at how the matcha latte didn't give him jitters and caffeine spikes

so a matcha guy but will drink coffee if it's the only thing around

he's not lactose intolerant but hiro is and he makes fun of him for it

has really bad allergies though

keeps an extra futon in the storage of his lab because there have been way too many nights where he just passed out on the floor of his lab too exhausted to go home

i could see him in a VW beetle

or just any car that would run

appreciates any weather for what little delights they hold but interestingly i'd say he's a cloudy, chilly, crisp cold air that makes your breath look like steam, on-the-verge-of-raining day guy because he gets to bust out his cardigan and blazers and make himself a warm little drink

smells like fresh laundry, coffee and delightful little pastries -- like stepping into a warm bakery on a chilly day-- because the brothers have to help Cass open

on days he's busy with baymax and other robotics projects he comes out of his lab smelling more like metal, lubricant, oil, soldering-- all that stuff that comes with mechanical tinkering and is conscious of it; if he has a class after he will go home and shower and make himself a matcha latte and he smells like a bakery all over again

crazy well-regarded not just in his own department but in school overall

like not only was he able to make a portable huggable robot capable of 10,000 medical procedures with a built in defibrillator which is actually insane legend crazy work on its own

but he's insanely nice and kind to anyone he passes by on campus and offers help whenever he can

^ many girls and even some guys are head over heels for him they can't fathom that he's a real person and not some prince that came out of a fairytale

he's lowkey a loser when it comes to his brother (and other aspects covered later) though

since hiro and aunt cass are all he has left of his family he's insanely protective of them, especially hiro who is in his teenage rebellious years

like in an argument with hiro when hiro says something mean to him in the heat of the moment like "Why are you like this?! It's none of your business!!" or whatever he gets sad and even beats himself over it lowkey like "Am I a bad brother after all...?"

there have been multiple instances in which he didn't hang with the gang because he wouldn't trust hiro to run off and get into a botfight in some shady ass crevice of the city SCENE: hiro is grounded by tadashi yet again and tadashi insists to escort hiro to and from school Hiro: Why do I have to be dropped off by you? And you're picking me up too?! And why do I have to wear this stupid T-Shirt?!!! [t-shirt says "i got in trouble for not listening to my brother and nearly getting us arrested]

like look me in my tumblr icon and tell me that's never happened bruh

lowkey needs glasses but has contacts, will wear them if in a rush

hes a cool robotic genius prince in shining armor whos also lowkey really lame and dorky 😭😭😭 

romantically

since he's a goody-two-shoes so he's low-key romantically inexperienced and easily flustered

^ he's probably a virgin ngl

like he gets bitches "oh tadashi? from the robotics department? yeah he's really nice; he helped me carry some stuff this one time. and suuuper cute. would." / "yeah I would date tadashi if I weren't, you know, a heterosexual guy" ...but he doesn't act on any of the action he gets

part of the reason being that hiro hamada exists and that alone is a responsibility in itself

like he had to sew GPS tracking systems into hiro's clothes if he went on a date his date would get interrupted by hiro's jacket pinging from some sketchy ass dead end alleyway like 4 miles away

and even if he brought someone home he wouldn't be able to do anything peacefully since he shares a room with hiro, the only thing separating the brothers being a thin, timeworn shoji partitioning

would blush if brought into a victoria's secret-- he wouldn't know where to put his eyes so he would be flustered and his eyes darting all over the place

^ if one were to ask if he was okay from all the victoria's secrets being revealed in front of him he would stutter like a stereotypical flustered teenage boy

love isnt limited by gender kinda guy

he's just a chill guy who has so much love to spread all around you know

bigger spoon, loves cuddling

love languages acts of service and quality time

vvvvvvv sweet and considerate

sooo gentlemanly

is a clingy sticky affectionate sappy drunk to his s/o

free pastries and coffee for breakfast from the lucky cat cafe

would cook for his s/o maybe even breakfast in bed

would help wash and blow dry s/o hair

very polite (very demure very mindful LOL) often asks before a lot of things "can I hold your hand?" "can I help you with that?" "can I hug you?"

gives his s/o rides home on days they have to go home at night because lets face it even san fransokyo in 20thirtysomething has sketchy dangerous bums

he is very athletic and has crazy endurance from playing sports all throughout school and having to run, chase after, and rescue hiro out of botfighting "misunderstandings"...

^ crazy endurance... iykwim...

soft top, would be open to reasonable experimentation

rarely gets jealous but if he does, bottles it up

until he cant anymore and he does some slightly possessive stuff like putting his jacket over his s/o and he will feel a little romantical when he is alone with them iykwim

is sooo cute just trust

some darker stuff maybe(?) tw/ trauma, death, unresolved issues or whatever idk

as hard as he is on hiro and his loved ones he's hardest on himself

he was old enough to remember and feel his parents death so it was harder on him than it was for hiro

part of the reason why he wants so desperately to help everyone is because he wishes he could have done something to save his parents

it's not explicitly stated but i get the feeling their parents died instantly from a terrible accident that unfortunately first responders weren't able to save (which was probably the inspiration for Baymax, who is portable and capable of 10,000 medical procedures which is crazy work btw)

he lowkey has survivors guilt from it

any nightmares he has of his parents and the accident and he wakes up panicking and teary-eyed he goes to the bathroom to compose himself to not let it affect hiro

lowkey he might have a small issue of basing some of his self-worth off how helpful he is

nevertheless he's a well-adjusted and healthy young man who has gone to therapy and overcome his trauma but experiences from his past influence and manifest in his work of trying to help others through robotics

which manifested in many sleepless days and nights and innumerable pots of coffee during baymax's development stages

hates health insurance companies (don't ask how he feels about luigi's mansion)

hes so so gorg i love love love like since forever

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Common Dreams:

Climate defenders and farmers sued the Trump administration in federal court on Monday over "the U.S. Department of Agriculture's unlawful purge of climate-related policies, guides, datasets, and resources from its websites."

The complaint was filed in the Southern District of New York by Earthjustice and the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University on behalf of the Environmental Working Group (EWG), Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), and Northeast Organic Farming Association of New York (NOFA-NY).

The case focuses on just one part of Republican President Donald Trump's sweeping effort to purge the federal government and its resources of anyone or anything that doesn't align with his far-right agenda, including information about the fossil fuel-driven climate emergency.

"USDA's irrational climate change purge doesn't just hurt farmers, researchers, and advocates. It also violates federal law several times over," Earthjustice associate attorney Jeffrey Stein said in a statement. "USDA should be working to protect our food system from droughts, wildfires, and extreme weather, not denying the public access to critical resources."

Specifically, the groups accused the department of violating the Administrative Procedure Act, Freedom of Information Act, and Paperwork Reduction Act. As the complaint details, on January 30, "USDA Director of Digital Communications Peter Rhee sent an email ordering USDA staff to 'identify and archive or unpublish any landing pages focused on climate change' by 'no later than close of business' on Friday, January 31."

"Within hours, and without any public notice or explanation, USDA purged its websites of vital resources about climate-smart agriculture, forest conservation, climate change adaptation, and investment in clean energy projects in rural America, among many other subjects," the document states. "In doing so, it disabled access to numerous datasets, interactive tools, and essential information about USDA programs and policies."

EWG Midwest director Anne Schechinger explained that "by wiping critical climate resources from the USDA's website, the Trump administration has deliberately stripped farmers and ranchers of the vital tools they need to confront the escalating extreme weather threats like droughts and floods."

[gf2bellamy]

captured — bellamy blake

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: bellamy rescuing you from mount weather content warnings: being kidnapped by mount weather, danger of bone marrow transplant but nothing happens, multiple mentions of a syringe

The cold, clinical corridors of Mount Weather stretched endlessly, their sterile silence broken only by the distant hum of machinery and muffled cries from other prisoners. The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting distorted shadows that seemed to writhe along the walls like specters. 

Every breath was heavy with the stench of antiseptic and fear, a nauseating combination that clung to the air. Somewhere in the labyrinth of hallways, you were trapped—another victim of Mount Weather's cruel experiments. 

Inside a dark room, you lay strapped to a metal table, your wrists and ankles bound tightly with unforgiving restraints. The surgical light above burned brightly, its glare blinding and relentless. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you strained against the bonds, the cool metal biting into your skin. 

The doctor beside you moved with precision, his gloved hands organizing an array of instruments on a tray. You could hear his voice, low and clinical, discussing the procedure with an assistant as if you weren’t even there. The sound of their conversation sent shivers of dread down your spine. 

Your breath hitched as the doctor leaned over you, syringe in hand, the liquid inside glinting ominously in the harsh light. Panic surged through you. Tears pricked your eyes as you squirmed against the restraints, but they didn’t give. 

Somewhere beyond the thick walls, Bellamy Blake moved with quiet urgency. 

Clad in tactical gear and armed with nothing but his gun and  determination, he navigated the corridors.  

So far, he’d freed several captives, each one more injured and terrified than the last. But it wasn’t enough—not until he found you.  

Back in the room, the doctor moved you with the syringe. Your eyes widened, and a strangled cry escaped your lips as you turned your head away, tears streaming down your cheeks. The assistant held your arm steady as the needle hovered closer. 

The door suddenly crashed open with a deafening bang, the force sending the assistant stumbling back. 

“Step away from her!” Bellamy’s voice thundered, cutting through the tension like a blade. His rifle was raised, his finger steady on the trigger, and his eyes blazed with anger. 

The doctor froze mid-action, his face paling. For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick and crackling with tension. 

Bellamy’s gaze darted to you, strapped down and trembling. Something inside him snapped at the sight—your tear-streaked face, the fear in your eyes, the way your body shook against the cold, sterile table. 

He didn’t hesitate. 

With two quick strides, Bellamy closed the distance, his boot kicking the tray of instruments to the floor with a loud clatter. The assistant bolted for the corner, hands raised in surrender. Bellamy turned his focus back to you, his hands working frantically to undo the restraints. 

“Bellamy,” you gasped, your voice breaking on his name. Relief washed over you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the terror receded. 

“I’m here,” he said, his voice softer now but still laced with urgency. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

His hands trembled slightly as he worked the last restraint loose. The moment your wrist was free, you surged up, throwing your arms around him in a desperate embrace. His gun clattered to the ground as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, one hand cradling the back of your head. 

“It’s over,” he murmured into your hair, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of your emotions. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” 

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers fisting the fabric of his jacket as you buried your face against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your ear, grounded you. 

“I was so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I thought they were going to—” 

“They didn’t,” Bellamy interrupted firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense, full of a mixture of relief and guilt. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not now, not ever.” 

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking into your chest.  

“Can you walk?” he asked gently, his hands still braced on your shoulders. 

Your legs felt like jelly as you swung them off the table, but with Bellamy’s steadying arm around your waist, you managed to stand.  

“Yeah,” you said shakily, leaning into him for support. 

“Good,” he replied, his tone firm but reassuring. “Stay close to me.” 

With one arm wrapped protectively around you, Bellamy led you out of the room. The oppressive halls of Mount Weather seemed less daunting with him by your side. 

[bohemianrapshawty]

Elbows Deep in Love

Dr. Robby had seen countless emergencies in his time, but nothing quite prepared him for what he saw when he walked into the trauma bay that night.

The ER was buzzing with the usual chaos—monitors beeping, nurses rushing about, and the soft murmur of anxious family members. But as Dr. Robby pushed through the doors, something stopped him in his tracks. There, amidst the whirlwind of medical staff, was her.

The intern—he didn’t even know her name yet—was deep into a procedure, blood spattered across her scrubs, her focus razor-sharp as she worked on a trauma victim who had come in with severe injuries. She was elbow-deep, literally, in saving this person’s life, her hands steady and sure as she applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. She was calm, controlled, in a zone that seemed almost ethereal.

Dr. Robby blinked, his heart skipping a beat as he watched her. She wasn’t panicking, wasn’t flustered; her whole demeanor was one of quiet confidence, a soft but undeniable strength. It was hypnotizing. She worked with a sense of urgency but without any outward sign of stress. Every movement was fluid, practiced.

"Pressure’s still not enough," someone called out, and without looking up, she barked an order. “Get me the clamps! Now!"

Robby had been through countless surgeries and procedures in his years, but there was something about the way she commanded the room, how her hands moved with precision, that felt… magical. She wasn’t just saving a life—she was performing a symphony with a scalpel and sheer willpower. The sound of her voice, the calmness, the way she didn’t even flinch as blood splashed across her face—it all made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, the bleeding was under control. The trauma victim was stabilized, and the room slowly began to settle. Everyone who’d been working alongside her seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Dr. Robby, still standing at the doorway, felt like he’d just witnessed something extraordinary.

She turned, wiping her hands on a towel, and her gaze flicked up—right at him. And for a split second, everything seemed to stop. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could have sworn there was a spark, something between them. A connection, no matter how fleeting.

"Dr. Robby," she said, her voice warm and calm, “we’re going to need some blood. Can you pull it from the bank?”

It was simple, a professional request. But to Robby? It was like hearing his favorite song played live in front of him. *She knows my name*—and even better, she wasn’t running the other way at the sight of him standing there like a deer caught in headlights.

“I—yeah, yeah, of course,” he stammered, immediately feeling a flush creep up his neck. He nodded and hurried to fulfill the request, but all he could think about was her. *Her.* The way she held the room, the way she saved lives with such quiet determination.

From that moment on, Robby was... well, obsessed wasn’t quite the word. But he found himself wandering the halls more often than usual, popping into the ER just to see if she was around. He’d ask about cases she was working on, pretend to need a consult just to linger a little longer near her. Every time he saw her, his heart would race a little faster.

And every time she spoke to him, even if it was just a quick comment about a patient or the weather, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won some kind of prize. Her laugh was soft, warm, and it made his knees weak every time he heard it.

He began to take notes—mental notes—on everything he could about her. How she always tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused, how she never seemed to need coffee even though she was always the first to arrive in the morning, how she always asked if others were okay before heading home herself.

It wasn’t long before Robby started to realize something: he was falling. And hard.

One evening, after another long shift, he found himself standing beside her in the quiet ER, both of them staring at a patient file, the low hum of the hospital around them. Robby cleared his throat, his hands sweating slightly as he fumbled for the right words.

“You… you’re amazing,” he blurted out. His cheeks immediately turned red, and he mentally kicked himself. Smooth, Robby. Really smooth.

She turned to him, eyes softening as she gave him a small smile. “Thanks. It’s just what we do.”

For Robby, that moment—the moment he truly understood the depth of his feelings for her—marked the beginning of something he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way she saved lives with such grace. Maybe it was the way she made the impossible seem easy. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way she made him feel like the world was a little bit brighter every time she walked into a room.

From then on, Robby was hopelessly smitten. And though he couldn’t yet find the courage to admit how he felt, he knew one thing for sure: she was the reason he came to work every day.

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Seven: Under Pressure

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The next morning, [Reader] woke up to the quiet hum of the city outside her window.

She blinked blearily at the empty space beside her, only to realize—Caleb was gone.

Her fingers brushed against the sheets, still warm from where he had slept. Then it clicked.

He must have left early for his first flight of the day.

With a soft sigh, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.

As soon as she stepped into the ground control tower, a flurry of voices and rapid commands filled the space.

The storm had already begun rolling in, and the radio buzzed with transmission after transmission of rerouted flights struggling to land.

She was just settling into her station when an emergency call came in.

"Mayday, this is Flight 308. We have a passenger suffering from a heart attack. Requesting immediate priority landing clearance."*

Her stomach dropped at the voice on the other end.

Caleb.

"Flight 308, this is ATC," she responded quickly, her training kicking in. "Due to severe weather conditions, several runways are currently unavailable. We are assessing the safest landing option for you now."*

"Understood. Passenger is unresponsive—medical assistance needed ASAP."*

She clenched her jaw, eyes flicking over the control screens.

Almost all the active runways were occupied. Some flights were already circling, waiting for clearance. If they didn’t act fast—

"Tara," she called, turning to her colleague. "I need you to contact emergency services and have an ambulance waiting at Gate 12. Make sure the paramedics are ready to go the second that plane touches down."*

"On it," Tara nodded, already dialing the number.

[Reader] took a steadying breath before switching back to the transmission.

"Flight 308, diverting you to Runway C for immediate landing. Adjust your heading to 270 degrees and begin descent now. Tower will guide you in."*

"Copy that. Beginning descent."*

Her grip on the console tightened as she monitored the approach, her entire focus locked on ensuring Caleb and his passengers made it down safely.

Seconds stretched into eternity before—

"Flight 308, touchdown confirmed. Welcome to Linkon International."*

A collective breath of relief filled the control room.

She watched as the plane taxied toward the gate, where paramedics were already waiting.

"Nice work," Tara murmured beside her. "That was fast thinking."*

But [Reader] barely heard her, only feeling the tension ease slightly from her shoulders. Caleb had landed safely. That was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, at the Gate

Caleb sat in the cockpit, exhaling deeply.

"That was some quick landing," his co-pilot praised. "Not easy in this weather."*

"Wasn’t just me," Caleb replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. "The ground crew handled it well."*

As they finished their post-flight procedures, Liana approached, a smile curving her lips.

"You handled that so well, Caleb," she said smoothly. "You’ve always been good under pressure."*

The other crew members glanced between them, sensing familiarity in Liana’s tone.

"Wait, you two know each other?" one of them asked.

Liana tilted her head. "Of course. We were friends back in college."*

A murmur of intrigue passed through the crew.

But before the gossip could spread, Caleb shut it down immediately.

"We were batchmates. That’s all," he said firmly. "Nothing more."*

Liana’s smile stiffened for a split second before she laughed lightly. "Right. Just batchmates."*

But the curiosity in the air lingered.

Later, during break

[Reader] was just about to grab a coffee when her phone buzzed.

Liana Reyes: Meet me outside the terminal. We need to talk.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She already knew this wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation.

Still, she sighed and headed to the meeting spot.

Liana was already there, arms crossed.

"You should break up with Caleb," Liana said the moment [Reader] arrived.

[Reader] raised a brow. "That’s bold of you."*

"I’m serious."* Liana stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You think you belong in his world? With his kind of family?"

[Reader] stiffened.

Liana smirked. "You don’t want people knowing who you really are, do you? The daughter of a mistress?"

Her stomach churned, but she kept her face unreadable.

"And what if Caleb finds out?" Liana continued, voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Do you really think he’ll look at you the same way?"

"I don’t know," a voice suddenly cut in. "Why don’t you ask me yourself?"

Both women turned—

And there stood Caleb.

His gaze was sharp, unwavering.

Liana’s confidence wavered for the first time. "Caleb—"

"You really think I didn’t already know?" he interrupted, crossing his arms. "That’s what you wanted to hold over her?"

Liana opened her mouth, but Caleb took a step closer, voice low.

"Listen to me, Liana," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I was never interested in you. Not in college. Not now. Not ever."*

Liana flinched slightly, her lips pressing together.

[Reader] watched in stunned silence.

Caleb’s gaze flicked to her, softer now. "You ready to go?"

She blinked before nodding. "Yeah."*

Without another word, Caleb took her hand, leading her away—leaving Liana standing there, her plan completely shattered.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos

[salternateunreality2]

Why are they in a blanket burrito? AGSZC

Angeal:

He's cold, his big ol bear body is great and all, but he's just cold today, ok? And maybe a little bit hiding from his mentee, who just found out about skibidi. He's happy and sleepy in his cocoon.

Sephiroth:

It's the closest he can get to feeling like he's back in the womb. Extra bonus points if someone else does the wrapping, but usually he has to wrap himself and it's not quiiiite tight enough. But he needs it. He feels melancholy but there's a hint of warmth to it.

Zack:

He is FREEZING!!! Jungle boy Zack is NOT prepared for Midgar weather!!! He is trotting and hopping around on just his heavily socked tiptoes trying to find a snuggle buddy. Also slipping a lot due to the socks. He's having a great time.

Cloud:

It's anywhere from several hours to a single nanosecond before he absolutely has to wake up, and if you bother him, you will perish. He is sleep-growling. He may or may not be comfortable and happy, but he is DEFINITELY going to rip your face off if disturbed.

Genesis:

He has to be restrained for a medical procedure, such as Angeal FORCE-FEEDING him HORRIBLE POISON (cough syrup and/or antibiotics) that's NOT EVEN APPLE FLAVORED. It is CRUEL, it is HARSH, it is A BREACH OF TRUST, he is IRATE!!! MAY THE GODDESS SMITE YOU ALL!!! Don't worry, the entire housing block knows of his plight.

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

#WhatNOAADoes - Thanks to #NWS Peachtree City GA for hosting a new #Skywarn severe weather volunteer storm spotter training course to be held Friday, March 28, 10 AM -- 12 PM at College & Career Academy in #RinggoldGA.

More info & register here: https://www.weather.gov/ffc/skywarnsched

[pmamtraveller]

SCENES FROM MODERN LIFE; THOMAS EAKINS

Thomas Eakins (1844–1916) was an influential American painter known for his realism and focus on the human form. His father was a calligrapher and writing teacher, and at first, that seems to have been Thomas Eakins’ direction, too. He studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts where he learnt drawing and anatomy.

The Champion Single Sculls (Max Schmitt in a Single Scull) (1871)

Created to commemorate the victory of Eakins's friend, Max Schmitt, in a rowing competition on Philadelphia's Schuylkill River. Eakins, a passionate oarsman himself, depicted Schmitt in a moment of calm rather than in the throes of competition. The painting captures great detail in the water, oars, and weather, Eakins even included himself in the artwork, rowing in the background.

Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic) (1875)

It is a portrait of the renowned Philadelphia surgeon in the surgical amphitheater of Jefferson Medical College (now part of Thomas Jefferson University). Eakins includes himself in the painting, seated at the far left, sketching the scene. The patient's mother, who looks away and shields her eyes, unable to watch the surgery, is also included. The procedure took place before the advent of aseptic technique, so instruments were clean but not sterile, gloves and gowns were not worn.

Arcadia (c 1883)

This painting was an unusual venture into mythology, created during a period when Eakins was experimenting with photography. Eakins had bought his first camera in 1880 and started to use it as a photographic sketchbook. Although it can be read as another step in his campaign for painting from life, the work features models posed in a pastoral setting, including his future wife, Susan Macdowell, and his nephew, Ben Crowell.

Swimming (The Swimming Hole) (1885)

Bathers have been a popular and recurrent theme in paintings since the dawn of the art. Here, Eakins features identifiable figures, which are Eakins himself and several of his students. However, its exhibition in 1885 sparked controversy due to its graphic portrayal of nudity and identifiable figures. This backlash contributed to Eakins's resignation from the Academy in 1886 after a series of complaints about his promotion of nude studies.

The Agnew Clinic (1889)

This fine painting shows the surgeon performing a partial mastectomy, and the whole scene is a testament of how surgery had advanced in just fourteen years. The clean white gowns worn by the doctors, the use of sterilized instruments, techniques promoted by Agnew. Eakins completed the painting quickly, in just three months, rather than the year he took for his earlier masterpiece, The Gross Clinic.

[abigailnussbaum]

OK, Severance theory time: we know that one effect of the severance procedure is control of the severed employees' perceptions (beyond the fact that Mark isn't seeing what's actually on his screen in MDR, there's also the "guides" in the ORTBO, who clearly aren't actually there because they appear and disappear, and also aren't dressed for the weather). We know a refiner was "watching" Mark and Ms. Casey in some form while she was on the severed floor, in much the same way that Mark's screen is showing Cold Harbor. We know that the rooms Gemma enters on her floor have the same names as the files the refiners are working on, that when she goes into those rooms her severed personas experience traumatic or frustrating experiences, and that her caretakers are particularly concerned with whether there are any emotional (as opposed to physical) leftovers from her experiences in those rooms.

So: the work of macrodata refinement is in creating the personas or splinters associated with each severed identity. In making sure that the traumas associated with one's severed experience can't bleed out into the outie persona or other severed identities (because trauma isn't simply a matter of memory but of physical, autonomic responses). That's why refinement involves identifying and corralling "scary" numbers - it's about ring-fencing those negative experiences in a way that isolates them only to one persona. And it's why there's a refiner observing the severed floor - because either Ms. Casey, or (more likely, given that the refiner is credited as "Mark watcher") Mark still need to be refined and to have their negative emotions, such as Mark's grief, filed away.

So Cold Harbor is yet another severed persona, and presumably the reason that Mark is the only person who can complete it is that he knows Gemma best and is able to perform the minute adjustments that lead to whatever it is that Lumon wants her to become. Which still leaves the question of what makes this persona different than the others, but I think there's a clue in both the "Mark watcher" credit and in the fact that Dr. Mauer is told that once Cold Harbor is complete, he won't see Gemma again. I think despite what Mark believes, severance isn't actually eliminating his grief for Gemma. There's a refiner working on him and corralling those feelings away so he doesn't experience them. What Cold Harbor is intended to do is produce permanent severance, a complete disconnect from unwanted feelings - in this case, presumably, Gemma's love and longing for Mark - that doesn't require nonstop maintenance.

Aside from everything else, this would be a nice twist on the underworld/Orpheus and Eurydice associations this season (and "Chikhai Bardo" in particular) seem to be courting. Mark isn't just Orpheus searching for his lost love, he's also Charon feeding her the waters of the Lethe. If he completes Cold Harbor, Gemma will be completely lost.

[usafphantom2]

Blackbird lands in the dead of night, a Christmas miracle.

December 22, 1982, SR -71 # 974 Emergency landing at Grand Forks Air Force Base, North Dakota.

The crew coordination between the pilots and RSO (Reconnaissance Systems Officer) was one of the strongest contributions to the SR-71’s outstanding safety record.

This trust and bond between them allowed two separate individuals, sitting in two separate cockpits with two different roles, to perform like one individual.

During the emergency descent, Pilot Smith could not see the runway. This was his last chance to land in zero visibility. RSO McKim said, “Strobes on site.”

Then Smith pulled the throttle to idle and felt the runway!

On the night of December 22, 1982, Lt. Col. Bernie Smith and his RSO Major Eddie McKim experienced a left generator failure while on a mission over Iceland / Canada. They selected Grand Forks AFB in North Dakota as the nearest suitable emergency airfield. During the descent, a primary hydraulic system failed, one of the most severe emergencies on the SR-71. They needed to land immediately.

They dumped fuel to reduce the landing weight as they neared Grand Forks. The weather was deteriorating rapidly. It was now two hundred feet overcast, with one-half-mile visibility and a slippery runway with freezing drizzle. During this emergency, Smith flew the instrument landing system down to a minimum. The "Minimums" callout is made at the minimum altitude, and this is the point that the Pilot Flying has to make a decision -- continue landing or bailout. The runway environment was not in sight, and visibility was so bad he could not see anything. The idea of a missed approach was not an option, though, as there were no suitable alternate fields available, and they were too low on fuel.

Smith will never forget Ed’s words while he sat there staring into zero visibility at close ground proximity. “I have the strobes in sight. You’re on the centerline. Keep on coming.” With no visibility around him either, Ed was looking through his viewsight and had picked up the sequence of flashing lights beneath the aircraft. It was this bond and trust that made Smith pull the throttle to idle and sit there until he felt the runway. Miraculously, they landed, blowing out the tires on a sheet of ice. There was only one hangar that would be able to house the crippled Blackbird 605 was just barely big enough to hide the top-secret airplane. Armed Air Force security surrounded the SR-71, protecting it from onlookers, which was standard procedure. On Christmas Eve 1982, Smith and McKim took off for Beale Air Force Base, their home, with a little bonus tail art. “Merry Christmas, Grand Forks”

Eye witness Tom Bennett, “ I was there when it happened. I was a nav in the 46th Bomb Squadron (B52Hs), and we partied with the crew at the club. I believe the pilot’s name was Bernie Smith. The crew lost hydraulics somewhere near Iceland en route back to the States. They wouldn’t make it to Beale, and GFAFB was the last northern tier base open because bad weather precluded them from landing elsewhere. Their departure was on a Saturday, and a large crowd gathered to see it take off. They did an air show for about 10 minutes in the pattern (mostly high-speed runs), and then at the end, they slowed for an approach gear down, then went a gear up, hit the burners, and disappeared into the overcast. A lot of noise, a lot of speed.... “🔥🔥

Four years ago, John Des Portes shared this story with me, and I paraphrased it. One Photo credit goes to Dale Riggs, who was there at Grand Forks and took these two photographs. Second photo credit to Don Hinton who took a picture of the tail art I expanded, and re-took the picture ~ Linda Sheffield

With Ed McKim

@Habubrats71 via X

[race-week]

im new to f1 so i hope this doesnt come off as a bit stupid but can you explain what goes into deciding a red flag (for example lance strolls barrier crash taking longer than the others) thank you!!

Typically barrier repairs in qualifying require red flags, but red flags are never instantaneous as there’s a procedure that has to be followed

The process for flags is

Incident happens, nearest marshal post waves either yellow or double yellow flags depending on severity.

The race director assesses the situation and decides whether to red flag it.

Therefore there’s always some sort of delay between the initial yellow flag and the red flag, as race control assesses.

Marshals themselves can’t wave red flags, a red flag can only be enforced by race control.

In the past they’ve been criticised by drivers and fans for putting out red flags too soon, i.e. when drivers ended up being able to get the car going and get back to the pits, so typically there is a period of time where if the driver is trying to get the car going they’ll wait.

Now this shouldn’t have really been the case for Stroll due to the damage of his car, he wouldn’t have been able to get it back to the pits safely, but that is likely the reason for the delay. In addition race direction have access to the main TV feed but not any additional onboards (only what’s shown on the main feed), they also have the on track CCTV which can be kind of iffy in poor weather so they don’t always have the best information available.

Typically from yellow/double yellow to red it takes about 20 seconds, this qualifying had a couple shorter ones, about 7-10s, a 25s one and a 40s one.

Also this isn’t for you anon but :

Race Control are not Stewards

[rocksandrobots]

PotP Ch 56 - Blizzards, Blackbirds, and Bargains: Part 2

Well, technically not from Corona directly. The dagger that laid out on the table before them bore the symbol of the Brotherhood, the crest of Umbra. Which was close enough. 

Another dimension was another dimension after all. 

“Watcha looking at?” Aunt Cass peered over the teens shoulders to see what had caused such fuss and fascination. 

“Uh… nothing.” Hiro squeaked. 

“Varian found a neat dagger in the snow.” Tadashi answered, cool as can be. “Someone must have dropped it. We're trying to figure out who it belongs to.” 

“Well, your best bet is to turn it over to the lost and found at the police station.” Aunt Cass advised, as she walked over to the TV controls laying behind the counter. “You can give it to Chief Cruz once the storm is over.” 

She flipped on the TV to see the weather. 

“As you can see here, there's another cold front coming in tonight.” The weather girl said, pointing towards a green-screened map. “While the snow has eased up some, we're expecting more flurries later on in the day and even possibly some sleet tonight.” 

“Therefore we advised people to still stay indoors and if you have to go out, try to get your errands done before 3 PM. The trolley will run from 10 to 2 in the afternoon for those of you who do need to travel.

Over to you Duff.” 

The scene changed to the news anchor at his desk. 

“Thank you Sheryl. Breaking news this morning. Apparently a series of burglaries happened last night while the city was distracted with the snow storm. Several banks, jewelry stores, and museums are reporting losses, with no evidence as to who the perpetrator might be.” 

The scene changed again, and Chief Cruz, all bundled up in scarf and earmuffs, stood in front of the police station. 

“We think it's an inside job. There's no signs of forced entry and all of the security cameras were tampered with. In addition, given the sheer volume of items missing and the distance between the various locations that were hit, would seem to suggest that multiple robberies happened near simultaneously; indicating an organized crime ring.” 

While the Chief went on explaining proper safety procedures, the rest of the gang shared knowing looks.

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

It was difficult to see through the swiftly falling snow as the heroes flew, skated, and teleported across the city. Even Baymax’s sensors seemed to be on the fritz. 

Despite this, the gang had found various treasures haphazardly strewn about town. Tapestries, toy chessmen, fur cloaks, small chests, other weapons, books, scrolls, a lone deerskin boot, and even a parchment map that was torn to shreds; all of it tossed about by the wind and all of it foreign to this world. 

Varian’s goggles fogged up as he stepped out of the portal onto a rooftop. He wiped them clear with his sleeve and bent down to pick up another artifact. 

This one was a ragdoll, worn, faded, and tattered, as if it hadn't been played with in years. In fact a lot of the stuff they had found was in a damaged state; as if all this stuff had been abandoned and thrown into this world like garbage. The dagger he had first found being the most intact due to the material it was made of. 

Varian frowned. The doll’s coal black eyes stared back at him dully. They were also made of obsidian; same as the dagger, same as the stone chess pieces, and same as the arm bangle they had found earlier. Varian didn't know much about his father’s home country, but he did know that stone carving was a time honored tradition there. 

He himself had never learned the craft, but his dad’s skills had been well regarded. He would, on rare occasions, carve small gifts out of stone. A toy here, a piece of jewelry there; quartz wedding rings were popular in the village and one of Varian’s favorite toys growing up was a carved knight on horseback. 

“Oooh! I found a dress!” Honey Lemon’s voice broke out over the intercom, snapping him out his thoughts. “Well part of a dress anyways. One of the sleeves is missing.” 

“Wooop! Yes! I found an axe!” Fred hooted with joy. 

“You're not keeping the axe, Fred.” Wasabi dismissed. 

“But-” 

“Put it down.” Gogo demanded. 

“As cool as all this medieval stuff is…” Tadashi chimed in, ignoring the argument over the axe, “has anybody figured out where it's all coming from yet?” 

“I may have found something.” Hiro said as he flew past on Baymax. “Meet me in the park.”

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

“Well I guess we found that ‘cold front’ the weatherman said to look out for.” 

Wasabi was the first to speak, if nothing else than to ease the overwhelming sense of dread that had overcome the group. 

Before them, at the top of king’s hill in the park, was the largest portal they had ever seen. 

It stood as tall and as wide as a two story building. 

There were no frames nor turbines, like with previous set ups, but there was a swirling vortex of energy that whirled around the gateway. And this gateway led straight to a raging snow storm. 

Wind, sleet, and snow blasted out of the inter-dimensional window and into the freezing San Fansokyo air. 

Hiro gulped. “S-so how do we stop it?” 

“Over here!” Gogo called out. “I think I found the controls.” 

They met her at the foot of the hill where stood a metal podium with controls built into the top and a generator beside it. Varian kicked over some snow to find the buried wires traveling back towards the top of the hill, and presumably whatever electronics kept the portal in place. 

“Hey look!” Fred yelled as he opened up a nearby sack. “Do you suppose they're using these to power the portal?” 

He held up a diamond, looking through it like a spyglass. 

“No, but I do think we’ve just found all of the stolen loot that went missing last night.” Hiro said, opening up another bag to find a pearl necklace. 

“So you're telling me that whoever opened up the portal to the fairytale dimension, decided to go on a robbery spree?” Tadashi asked, incredulously. “Wouldn't they have they're own riches in that Umbra kingdom?” 

“Looked more like junk to me.” Gogo commented; pulling out a single ripped leather glove from her back pocket and holding it up to remind everyone the real value of the other worldly treasures they had found. 

“Maybe they're a part of the fae and are like exchanging trash for shiny stuff cause they think it's an even trade or something?” Fred guessed.

“The fae wouldn't use electricity, Fred.” Varian stated matter of factly as he examined the controls. That's when his eyes landed on the blue folder. 

“That's Callahan’s notebook.” Hiro said when he noticed what Varian was holding. “But I thought you lost it.” 

“So did I.” Varian muttered as he flipped through the notes. 

“But both Callahan and Momosake are still in jail.” Honey Lemon timidly pointed out. “Who else would have known about it?” 

They all got their answer when another, smaller portal opened up right next to them, and out stepped Sirque with a bag slung over her shoulder and a stolen crown perched precariously on top of her head. 

Super villain and heroes stared at each other for a moment, stunned. Until Sirque rolled her eyes, dropped the bag of loot, and raised her hands. 

“Alright, fine. You caught me.” 

“Shut the portal down now!” Varian demanded.

Sirque took a step back, surprised by the ferocity in his voice. 

“Okay… okay. It'll take a moment to power everything down ...” 

She turned off the smaller portal behind her and walked over to the control panel. 

“You have to shut everything off in sequence or it'll risk an implosion.” She finished explaining. 

“That's the least of our problems.” Varian muttered. 

“I don't know. ‘Imploding giant portal’ does sound like a pretty big problem to me.” Wasabi countered. 

“Listen. The rocks could come through at any moment. That's a far bigger worry right now.” 

“Rocks?” Sirque asked. 

“Do you have any idea where that portal leads to?” Varian responded. 

“The frozen tundra.”  She pointed back towards the gateway like it was obvious. 

“Yes… the frozen tundra of a completely different dimension.” 

Sirque blinked at him, unsure how to respond to such a statement, but then decided it didn't matter. 

She rolled her eyes again and shrugged. “If you say so.” And then began the power down sequence. 

She didn't get the chance to finish. 

Halfway through the ground began to rumble under their feet. But before anyone could yell “Earthquake!”, black stalagmites burst from below. They barreled straight towards the group, towering as tall as a grown man, before abruptly stopping a few feet past where they all stood. 

It was all over and done within a matter of seconds. The gang of superheroes barely had time to roll out of the way from the onslaught. 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.”  Honey Lemon kept repeating over and over again as she clung to the base of one of the rocks in shock. 

“What was that!?” Sirque yelled. 

“The rocks.” Varian answered, lifting Hiro off his feet. 

“Is everyone okay?” Gogo shouted. 

“I’ve been better.” Wasabi grunted. 

Everyone rushed to his side. One of the black spikes had pierced his armor, breaking the shoulder guard and grazing his shoulder. 

“It sliced right through my shield like a knife through butter.” He hissed, as Baymax applied antiseptic to his wound. 

“Fortunately it doesn't look too deep.” Tadashi said, examining Baymax's handiwork. 

“Only a minor cut.” The robot confirmed. “It should heal within a few days.” 

“I wish the same could be said about the portal.” Fred replied. 

The others turned to look at him. He was standing near the now busted up control panel, holding a severed cord. 

Sirque’s eyes widened with horror. “Oh that is not good.” 

“Please don't say why.” Hiro whispered. 

Sirque ignored his pleas. “The generator was used to kick start the portal, but the electromagnets use kinetic motion to maintain energy. Without the controls, I can't tell the portal to power down.” 

“No…. No…” Varian practically laughed in disbelief. “Do NOT tell me you don't have a way to shut the portal down.” 

“Well there is a backup… but…” 

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “No buts, where is it?” 

Pinned in his grasp, she timidly pointed back towards the portal. 

“There’s another set of controls on the other end, to stabilize the connection.” 

Gogo spoke up first. “So you’re telling us, someone has to go in there, turn everything off, and then get back through the collapsing portal before they're trapped in another dimension for all time?” 

“Why do you keep saying it's another dimension?” 

“Because it is!” Varian shouted, finally letting go of her. “Or do you think those are natural to this world!?” 

He pointed back towards the rocks. 

Sirque frowned. 

“You don't… you don't know that. They could be.. they be an unstudied phenomenon-”

“ I've studied them. I've spent my life studying them. Their chemical makeup doesn't match anything on this Earth. Their physical priorities defy basic physics. They've managed to go against all known scientific research.” 

“Trust us.” Tadashi stepped in. “It's alien, and so is he, and that portal you just built leads to another world.” 

“You must be joking.” But she didn't sound confident, not in the slightest. 

“Joking or not, we need to get those controls rebuilt and that portal turned off asap.” 

“We don't have time.” Varian hissed. 

“Nobody's going through that portal.” 

Varian pressed his lips tightly together as if considering a further argument, but then huffed and marched over to the control panel instead. 

“We need a soldering tool.” He said. 

“I have a toolbox.” Sirque offered, and ran to her stash to get it. 

Those not versed in portal tech, stood to the side and watched. 

Honey Lemon had finally calmed down but still looked shell shocked, while the rest of the gang shuffled nervously, unsure what to do. 

“Screwdriver!” Varian called out, while Sirque connected the power cables. 

Gogo handed him the tool out of the toolbox. 

“So… those are what destroyed your village?” She asked. 

“Yeah, and they'll destroy San Fansokyo if we don't get this portal closed.” 

He finished screwing back in the brackets on the casing, and putting the screwdriver in his mouth, took two ends of a severed wire in his hand and spliced them together.

“Gat me a mut, mill ma?” He hummed, and Gogo went hunting for a ceramic nut for the wires. 

“How much time do we have?” Tadashi asked, peering over the other side of the panel. 

Varian spit out the screwdriver into his hand as Gogo handed him some nuts and terminal ends. 

“No idea. It could be a couple of hours or just a few minutes.” 

“What's our backup plan if we run out of time?”

Varian stopped and stared hard at him. 

“There is no backup. Nothing can stop the rocks. Nothing. So don't even try it.” 

Tadashi frowned, but for once didn't argue.

Hiro kept a pensive eye on the portal as he listened in on his brothers’ conversation. 

“Baymax?” He quietly asked his robot companion, hopefully out of earshot of the others. “Can you detect where the other control panel is?” 

Baymax scanned the portal entrance way. 

“They're is an energy signal coming about half a mile from the portal’s entrance.” 

“How fast can you get to it?” 

“Given wind resistance, I estimate roughly three minutes.” 

“So three minutes to get back through the portal before it collapses, plus whatever time it would take to turn it off. How much time would it take for the portal to close completely?” 

Baymax gave the best imitation of a shrug that he could. “I'm afraid I do not have enough information to make that calculation.” 

Hiro mulled over the options in his mind as he walked over towards the reconstruction. 

“Hey Sirque, if someone went through the portal-”

“No one is going through the portal.” Tadashi interrupted. 

Hiro ignored him, “How hard would it be to turn the other set of controls off?” 

“Not hard. It's just a simple powering down sequence.” She answered off handily as she flipped through her notes. “First the electromagnets have to be told to slow down, and then the signal has to be shut off, then finally you can cut the power. Do it out of order though and the portal could implode.” 

Hiro nodded. “The magnets have to stay stabilized till the power is fully off, got it. So all together, you think what, about six minutes to power it all down?” 

Sirque gave it some thought. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Given the portal's size, it's not instantaneous like with my portable tech.” 

“I know what you're thinking, and no.” Tadashi said. 

“You said we needed a backup.” Hiro argued back. “Baymax and I could fly in there and out again the quickest.” 

“Well fortunately we won't need to risk it because Varian is going to fix the panel here. Ain’t that right, V?” 

In answer the control panel sparked and caught on fire. As Varian frantically scrambled away, Baymax calmly put out the small flame with his built in extinguisher. 

“It's o-okay.” Varian tried to keep the rising panic out of his voice as he examined the damage. “It's just a little surface scaring. Nothing major. I can still fix this.” 

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than did the ground start to rumble again. Varian gulped down his fear and turned to look at the portal. 

More rocks were heading their way, but this time they were further off. 

They could see the black spikes puncturing the snow off in the distance, but it wouldn't take long for the dangerous formations to reach them. Certainly not before Varian had a chance to rewire the controls. 

A scream from Honey Lemon broke Varian out of his racing thoughts. 

“Hiro NO!!!” 

Too late. 

Varian barely had time to register the wind rushing past him as Baymax blasted off towards the portal.

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

Hiro ignored everyone's cries as he rushed through the portal. 

He wasn't sure what he had expected when entering another world, but honestly it didn't look any different from the images of Alaska you'd see on National Geographic. He could understand why Sirque would have assumed that she had created another spacial portal like all the others. The only thing indicating it's alien nature was the large black pointy rocks spiking up through the snow, and they had only just appeared five minutes ago. 

Yet despite having not been there moments before, the rocks already trailed off far into the distant horizon in a winding, erratic line as far as the eye could see. Like a giant black serpent snaking its way through the snow. 

The enormity of it filled his stomach with lead. These things were fast, and right now they were heading straight towards San Fansokyo. And given the evidence of what he'd seen here, they wouldn't stop at just the city. 

“I have found the controls.” Baymax interrupted his thoughts as they landed near another metal podium. The rocks had thankfully just missed it by a few feet. Hiro wasted no time in jumping off and dashing towards the panel. 

The power down procedure was simple enough. The control layout wasn't much different from Varian’s portal at school. Probably because both were based off of Callaghan’s work on the Silent Sparrow project. 

He flipped the final switch and heard the telltale sign of sparking electromagnets slowly winding down in the distance. 

“Quick, Baymax!” 

He jumped onto the robot’s back in mid-flight and they took off at full blast towards the portal. 

They were racing side by side with the rocks now. Which somehow managed to just keep pace ahead of them by a few yards. 

Hiro forced himself to tear his eyes away from unnatural phenomena and focus on their destination instead. 

The energy glow around the doorway was dimming and Hiro could just make out the shapes of his friends in the distance. 

They were beginning to run towards them, no doubt calling out to him. 

He gauged the distance. A little more than a football field to go… Five hundred feet… Four hundred… Three hundred… Two…

“Come on… come on…” He hissed, willing them to go faster… or for the rocks to go slower… or for the power to stay on longer… 

They were only ten feet away when the energy connecting the magnets arched, sputtered, and then died away. 

“NOOOO!!!” 

His friends, the portal, and the gleaming towers of San Fansokyo faded away into a swirl of white snow right as he and Baymax flew past what should have been the gateway. 

Baymax skidded to a halt and hovered there as Hiro looked on in horror at the nothingness before them. 

Nothing but the snow and the back rocks; which continued on regardless.

[calciumdeficientt]

Cal !! Saw the previous ask about Bryce and I absolutely loved your ideas- do you have anything in mind for Gord dearest?

Please, call me milky!

Anyway …Gorrrrrrrd! Gord was my first love, he was the first NPC i heard speak when i played the game (past this is your school,obvs) and he’s the one that hit me over the head with the autism sledgehammer. i want to scrunch him up and throw him in a wood chipper

GORD VENDOME HCS

He’s the cuntiest bitch on the bullworth academy campus and I’m literally not going to accept any form of argument, he came out of the womb wearing aquaberry. He lives and breathes it, its his lifeblood. He plans his walk around school to and from each class, checking the weather to make sure he if needs to tweak any parts of the route so that’s he has the best chance of getting every student to see how effortless, demure and graceful he is in his choice of fine clothes, jewellery and hair care. No one is fooled by him, they know it takes a hell of a lot of effort.

Gord does a closet reshuffle every 6 months or so, just to make sure all his clothes are on trend and in season. This is standard prep procedure, but what makes Gord’s rearranging so special is that he literally cannot bear to throw anything away. He attaches memories to every stitch of fabric he’s ever put on his body, he’s a work of art and therefore every single outfit he’s ever worn simply has to be memorialised, he can’t throw it all away. His father has dedicated several houses just to the backlog of Gord’s discarded clothing. There’s more than enough in there to fully stock several Aquaberry locations for literal decades.

He gets dreadful hay fever, its actually kind of disgusting to look at him if he hasn’t taken an antihistamine. Luckily very few people have ever seen him like that, he has several boxes on his person at all times during the spring and summer. He just doesnt have the heart to tell Jimmy about his pollen allergy, so when he’s given flowers he has to hold all of his sneezes in. This then makes his eyes water, and therefore makes Jimmy think he’s so overjoyed with the gift that he’s moved to tears. Luckily for gord he keeps several hand stitched silk handkerchiefs on his person at all times, initialled with thread made of spun gold, he’s not some kind of common mutt that uses disposable tissues.

Gord is a rather talented pianist, he was given the choice as a child to either play polo with his father, or take piano lessons. The thought of the latter made him so lightheaded he thought that he was having a heart attack so he chose to play piano instead. His family have a very nice grand piano in their house’s foyer, but a separate, dedicated room for music practice with an equally expensive, but less aesthetically pleasing piano. On special occasions when the Vendomes wanted to show off, they’d plonk Gord in front of the piano and set him loose. It was usually Schubert or Bach to show how deeply cultured their young son was; but in his personal time, Gord found he much preferred to play the works of more modern classical composers, Leonard Cohen was a particular favourite in his early teens. He doesn’t play all that often nowadays, he’s much too busy, but every time he thinks he might be forgetting he’ll spend an hour or so playing through the giant stack of sheet music he’s accumulated over the years.

His cologne is one of a kind, hand mixed by a company in Milan, its tailored to him and only him and was originally a gift for his 10th birthday. It’s more feminine smelling than most colognes but he thinks it makes him stand out more, he’s not a traditionally masculine guy, so he likes that his cologne reflects that. He’s been gifted many other scents, usually from distant relatives or prospective marriage candidates that dont really know him but they’re just not the same.

Actually got bullied so insanely hard for his ears when he was a kid that he refused to leave the house without a hat on. Even when he first came to bullworth kids weren’t the nicest to him. His ears are a big source of insecurity for him and he is in the process of convincing his father to let him get surgery to tuck them in. His satellite dishes are so cute and he should never get rid of them but its not really up to me.

Comforts Pinky when Derby forgets about every single one of their dates, he takes her shopping for whatever she wants, to dinner someplace exclusive (he always makes reservations on days when those two have dates, he just knows Derby will bail), and then back to Harrington house to watch movies. He openly cries at the sad parts of the romcoms they inevitably end up watching, often more so than Pinky.

Holds a fondness for poor people that not even he himself can fully explain. If he had to pinpoint it, its their freedoms. They’re free to be content with nothing, or to work to fix it, they dont start at an advantage in life and therefore get to enjoy the ride a little bit more. Thats his rose tinted view of it anyway, obviously he hasn’t the time to spend creating a nuanced understanding of his infatuation, he just accepts it as part of his psyche and moves on with his own, utterly fabulous life.