#Board of Forestry

[plethoraworldatlas]

Ten conservation groups today sent a letter calling on Oregon Gov. Tina Kotek and the Board of Forestry to protect additional acres of forest lands in the proposed Western Oregon State Forest Habitat Conservation Plan. Their proposed increase in protected mature and old-growth forest land would help safeguard imperiled species like the threatened Oregon Coast coho salmon and marbled murrelet.

Specifically, today’s letter seeks to protect forests older than 80 years in the Tillamook and Clatsop state forests and the Cook Creek watershed because of their ecological value for coastal communities and wildlife. The draft conservation plan is now in the process of being finalized by the Board of Forestry.

“Protecting more mature and old-growth coastal forests would benefit Oregon’s treasured wildlife and sustain coastal communities,” said Meg Townsend, senior freshwater attorney at the Center for Biological Diversity. “We need to protect Cook Creek to safeguard critical spawning habitat for Oregon Coast coho and make sure coastal residents have safe drinking water and recreational opportunities.”

Intact mature and old-growth forests provide important habitat corridors and refuges for wildlife including at-risk species like the marbled murrelet. They also help moderate flooding and runoff occurring more frequently in a changing climate while ensuring water quantity and quality to downstream communities. Older forests are the most resistant and resilient to climate change impacts like wildfire.

Across Oregon, only about 10% of mature and old-growth forests remain, and much less than that remains on the North Coast.

Clearcut logging and related activities like road building and aerial pesticide spraying increase sediment and other pollutants flowing into streams and drinking water sources. No-logging buffers around streams have increased under a settlement agreement with the Center for Biological Diversity and other groups. But communities remain concerned about the extent of clearcutting in their drinking watersheds and the short-term and cumulative harms of industrial logging.

This summer, Oregon Wild co-developed a project with NASA to map the extent of logging across watersheds on the North Coast. The analysis revealed that the forested areas many Oregon coastal communities rely on for safe and clean drinking water have been more than 50% clearcut over the past 20 years.

[quaranmine]

oh to be a lookout in glacier national park this summer,,,

[josephquinnswhore]

no promise left unkept - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel knows how to fuck, and good. But does he know how to love. He’s not sure, but he wants to try.. with you.

word count: 1.1k

content warning: raw fucking, p in v, reader tasting her own juices, two idiots navigating their feelings.

The sun hadn’t yet completely risen over the top of the tall silhouette of the trees of the forest yet, eliciting a bright orange glow through the forestry. The same glow that makes Joel look ethereal, his hazel eyes glow golden, his skin too.

The cool, autumn breeze weaves through the branches, it feels icy on the exposed skin of your ass.

Your jeans had been brazenly pulled halfway down to your ankles when Joel decided that this was the perfect spot for you, insisted.

“It’s safe here, ain’t gonna run int’a no trouble, promise.”

The deepened drawl of his morning tiredness lingered, the promise was one you’d heard time and time again, in which he took seriously.

Here you were, attempting to stabilise yourself against a growing tree stump that you had been bent over, creating the perfect angling of Joel to spear into you, while your back is arched proficiently. Each time he thrusts into your sopping, greedy cunt, your knees scrape against the stump from the force of his desperate movements.

Pummelling into you over and over, the reverence of his cock clamming harshly into your hole was the only thing keeping your mind off the pain. He was so thick, so delicious, the tip of his cock rams against the soft flesh of your cervix. It’s a painful feat to bear and your fingers coil around the loose foliage in attempt to alleviate the pain.

Despite how standoffish and rude Joel seemed, you’d fucked him enough to know that he was a generous man. Perhaps he wasn’t the most romantic, this wasn’t his bedroom, after all. But he had made it his unspoken duty to claim you. Worshipping every inch of your body, refusing to let you walk back to the settlement you call home without that satisfied, fucked out face you gave him.

Like clockwork, you’d sneak out of Jackson through the unfinished boarding on the south end that was still being repaired, meeting him at the lookout for his patrol once every week for a desperate fucking.

“I know you got one more for me, can feel how tight you’re clenchin’ around me—“ he interrupts himself with a grunt, picking up his pace frantically as he leans right over you. The added weight of his chest flush against your back makes you stumble palm first into the soft orange and yellow autumn leaves. The fallen colourful leaves crinkle and crunch under your palm, collecting under your nails as you curl your fingers into the loose plant.

Joel is grunting in your ear, his thick cock ramming into you with such devotion that he hadn’t with anyone other than you.

He loved to please you, hearing every whine and bated breath he could feel. His fingers are warm and wet, slick of your juices from playing with your clit. He clumsily redirects two of his thick digits to slide against your chin as he clutches onto your jaw, intrude into your mouth, it’s met with the same warmth your cunt provides, and he fucks your mouth too.

With another orgasm approaching, you’re whining, but the sound is muffled by his thick fingers and you’re forced to suck on them, tasting off your own arousal.

Never had you met a man so devoted to making sure you came first, drawing it out of you with his elicit fucking and feral grunts. The skilful fingers and the way they caress your body with such tenderness and precision to what makes you feel good.

He could never stop himself from the rapids of intrusive thoughts of cumming inside you, no matter how much time he had to give himself, he couldn’t. The feel of your cunt clenched around him like a vice, begging to be filled with his thick load.

A devotion to you, but he couldn’t ever find the courage to make you his exclusively, outside of fucking you, with the promise of something real.

You slobber against his thick fingers, tears falling down your cheeks as you cum again, the obscene sound is muffled. In quick succession you couldn’t recall, but he always made up for the days of the week he didn’t see you.

The sound of him grunting and heaving as he pulls out of you to cum on the damp foliage is tuned out by the ringing of your ears after another intense orgasm.

Without a beat passing, Joel is pulling your jeans up to cover whatever decency you still held, and managed to help you to your feet, still dazed and euphoric, you undervalue the intimate and personal gesture of him wiping your tears away.

“You alright?” A softness brings you back to him, into his orbit. The way he gazes at you with those hazel eyes is the only way he’ll allow you to understand what he’s feeling.

“Hey—“ he snaps you out of your dazed state and manages to elicit a nod from you. “Not good enough. I need words, talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” the murmur is unconvincing, lacking any real substance.

The warmth on your ears spreads down your neck as he looks at you, into your eyes intently as if he senses something is wrong.

“You’re not fine. Did I hurt you?” The warm flesh of his hands cradled your cheek.

“No. You didn’t hurt me.” That wasn’t entirely true, your knees ache and your stomach was hurting from his incessant ramming. But what hurt the most was that you two couldn’t do this properly. In his bed, or with someone acknowledging that you two were an item.

Joel knew something was amiss, he knew that you had feelings for him, you two had been screwing for months, how couldn’t you have?

And he—burns the cowadarce inside of him, seeing the distraught expression on your face. The need.

“I’ll come visit you tonight, alright? We’ll have a meal, an’.. we’ll talk about this. Us.” His murmur is soft, a promise, and pauses. “If you want.”

“You will?”

Disbelief overwhelms him. While your heart feels yearning, to keep his hand on you, to beg him not to make you return to Jackson without him by your side, to give him any time for him to forfeit his promise.

Did he make you feel this unsure of the dynamic you shared?

He hums, the sound is even and calm. He pinches your cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, sweetheart. Promise.”

With that one word, you feel secure, like an infant being held in the arms of it’s mother. Safe.

Joel Miller is your security, and he had never broken a promise to you.

[swimmingruinsdream]

Tree Hugger Board Feet Estimator T-Shirt

This shirt is perfect for nature lovers who enjoy the great outdoors! The design features the text "If You See Me Hugging A Tree I'm Estimating Board Feet," which is a humorous way to express your love for trees and your passion for woodworking. With this shirt, you can show off your unique personality and let others know that you're proud to be a tree hugger and an expert in estimating board feet. It's a fun and lighthearted way to express your love for nature and woodworking!

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one of the characters is very protective over another character as requested in these two asks. You can find my other fic recs here. Please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

⚔️ This Multiplicity of Powers by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere

(E, 149k, X-Men au) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe.

⚔️ forever is in your eyes by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 125k, supernatural elements) He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

⚔️ cut your teeth on my heart by @turnyourankle

(E, 94k, bodyguard Louis) Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

⚔️ And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

(M, 86k, historical) Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

⚔️ What I Have With You (I don't want with anyone else) by @lululawrence

(NR, 73k, omegaverse) Louis is an asexual alpha, Harry is his aromantic alpha friend and possible roommate, and faking a relationship might be exactly what they need to get their families and friends off their backs.

⚔️ this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry

(E, 68k, spies) As if the whole ‘industrial spy’ business was not stressful enough, Harry found himself in a hatred-at-first-sight relationship with one of his new coworkers, Louis, a man intent on detesting Harry.

⚔️ your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

⚔️ and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, omegaverse) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. 

⚔️ Close to Nowhere by @angelichl

(E, 34k, hate to love) Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

⚔️ Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

⚔️ Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(T, 18k, omegaverse) Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

⚔️ Unraveled by @allwaswell16

(E, 18k, bodyguard) They had reason to believe that Prime Minister Louis Tomlinson might be in danger, and they’d like Harry to act as his personal protection.

⚔️ Meet Me On The Forest Floor by @taggiecb

(M, 15k, fallen angel) Louis is an angel, and one day he does something that causes him to fall from heaven, and into the arms of Harry Styles, forestry officer, who cares for him until Louis can get back on his feet again.

Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel by @2tiedships2

(M, 15k, omegaverse) the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha.

⚔️ Heart Eyes by Snowy38 / @snowy38

(E, 10k, blind Harry) Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.

⚔️ In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 9k, famous/not famous) Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson. Louis fucking Tomlinson.

⚔️ I’d Walk Through Fire For You (Just Let Me Adore You) by Neondiamond / @neondiamond

(E, 8k, omegaverse) Firefighter Louis is having an uneventful shift at the station when a call comes in about a devastating fire in a nearby apartment complex. All of his worst nightmares become reality when he realises it’s where Harry, his best friend who he’s had a relentless crush on for years, lives, and that said best friend is stuck inside among the flames.

⚔️ Just Hold On by SilverStuff50 / @silverstuff50

(M, 3k, famous/not famous) “It’s just not safe. You’re surrounded by people grabbing and pulling at you.” He looks Louis up and down appraisingly. “And you’re so-“ he stops himself when Joni shoots him a warning look.

⚔️ I Hope You Choke (on those words) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 2k, bodyguard) Never in his career had he seen a musician as reckless when it came to personal safety as Louis Tomlinson.

- Rare Pairs -

⚔️ your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

⚔️ Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by FallingLikeThis / @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Liam still remembers the argument, still remembers the feelings of stubborn exasperation and eventual grudging acceptance, when his father had insisted that Liam needed a security detail while out doing his father’s bidding.

[darth-mortem]

Here is the second chapter of fic I write for PriceGhostWeek2024

chapter 1

The disgusting squeaking in Price’s ears gradually subsided. He moved and, realizing that he was lying face down in the mud that had been eroded by the rainstorm, slowly got up, propping himself up on his elbows. Riley was next to him. He seemed to be cursing, clutching the radio in his hand, but the captain thought his voice was coming from somewhere far away. This effect wore off only when the lieutenant angrily threw the radio to the ground and turned to Price.

“Sir.” He said hoarsely, but completely calmly, as if he hadn't just scolded someone on the other end of the channel. “We didn't make it. The heli took off and won't return until the storm subsides. But the pilot spotted a building a click and a half away. Maybe we can find shelter there.”

“Ghost.” Price struggled to stand upright and sit down on the storm-swept ground. “Are you broken?”

“Negative.” The lieutenant shook his head, picked up his radio, got to his feet, and held out his hand to Price. “Come on, Captain, we have to go.”

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

Price remembered how they got to the building in fragments. At first, he shifted his feet, holding on to Ghost. Trees, hills, and huge rocks passed by; a storm threw rain in their faces, and their feet sank into the soggy clay soil. The captain thought he was walking, but then his vision was obscured by darkness, and he felt his head bobbing in time with the lieutenant's footsteps: Price saw Riley's boots, heard his raspy breathing, and felt the firm grip of his steel fingers. Ghost was carrying him again, holding his forearm and his uninjured leg. The captain wanted to say that he could walk on his own, but he slipped back into the darkness of oblivion.

The next awakening seemed pleasant to Price, considering everything that had happened earlier. The dull pain in his leg bothered him, but he was warm, and it was almost quiet around him. Opening his eyes, the captain realized that Riley had dragged him to the building the pilot had pointed out. It seemed to be a small hunting or forestry hut, with walls of darkened timber, boarded-up windows, and a cast iron stove with a crackling fire, near which the lieutenant was doing something. He hung wet gear and clothes around him, apparently only Price's, because he remained clothed and masked. When Riley looked back, the captain saw that he had cleaned his skull mask of blood.

“Welcome back, sir.” Ghost said.

“What do we have here?” Price asked hoarsely, lifting his heavy head.

He was lying on a bench made of boards, covered with some old, tattered, but warm blankets that the lieutenant had probably found in the house. In addition, the outline of a table and a pair of stools could be seen in the darkness against the opposite wall. A rusty bucket stood by the door, and on the small stovetop, Riley was stirring something in a dented aluminum pot.

“I sewed and bandaged your wound.” The lieutenant began to report. “There was nothing useful in this hut except blankets, a stove, and dry firewood. We have rainwater, but no food except for a few of our MREs. I managed to contact the base, and they said the storm should pass in a few days.”

“Well, it could be worse.” Price slowly sat up, wrapping himself in the blankets, and felt dizzy, but it quickly receded.

“Yeah.” Ghost agreed and took the pot off the stove. “You need to eat, sir. Here, take a spoon, but be careful; it's hot.”

The pot ended up on the bench next to the captain. The lieutenant took a folding spoon from the pocket of his tactical vest hanging near the stove and handed it to the captain. Price noticed that his clothes were still damp and frowned slightly.

“You need to eat too.” He said. “And dry off.”

“I'm fine.” Ghost replied, pulled up a stool, and sat down next to the bench Price was sitting on.

The captain did not argue, but after eating half the contents of the pot, he left the spoon inside and looked at the silent and motionless Ghost.

“Eat.” He repeated firmly and added. “That's an order.”

Riley stared at him for a few seconds, then took the pot, which was already cool enough to hold, and turned his back on the captain, lifting the edge of his mask to the bridge of his nose. Price realized that he had never seen the lieutenant eat or drink before, remembered the lack of photos in his file, and wondered why there was such a high level of classification. He remained silent while Riley ate, while he went outside to rinse the pot under the streams of rain, poured water into it from a bucket, and put it on the stove. The captain spoke only when the lieutenant took metal cups from their backpacks and began to search for something in his tactical vest.

“Ghost.” Price called out softly, and Riley gave him a quick glance as he pulled an opaque polyethylene ziplocked bag from one of his pockets. “Why did you come back for me? That was completely untactical. We both could have been killed.”

“I'm already dead, sir.” The lieutenant replied and opened the ziplock.

Inside were several cigarettes and tea bags. Seeing this, Price smiled involuntarily, appreciating the lieutenant's level of forethought. It was supposed to be a short mission, and yet this Briton did not rule out the possibility of having a cup of tea.

“You're not dead.” The captain shook his head, watching Riley count the bags and hide all but one. “It doesn't matter what your file says. You breathe, you eat, you drink, and I'm sure that if you get hurt, you'll bleed and feel pain. Leave those stories for the rookies.”

Ghost sighed heavily as he poured boiling water into the cups. Holding a teabag in the one belonging to the captain, he transferred it to his own, realizing that they had to save everything they have.

“Sometimes I doubt it.” He said very quietly, handing Price his tea and one of his cigarettes.

The captain was struck by the desperation in Ghost's voice. It was the first time the lieutenant had ever been betrayed by his usual equanimity and demonstrated his true feelings.

“I came back for you because you're the only one who doesn't hate me.” Riley continued to speak quietly, clutching his cup in his hands. “I know you don't like me, but you've always been good to me, and... I like you, sir.”

Price was waiting for Ghost to add something like 'like you as a commander', but he didn't. The lieutenant sat there with his head down, then put his cup down and started rummaging through the pockets of his tactical vest again, looking for a lighter. He seemed embarrassed by what he had said.

The captain suddenly felt very sorry for him. He realized that Riley didn’t become this way from a good life. One could only guess how much pain and horror he had experienced in captivity in Mexico and how much it had changed him, turning him into the terrifying Ghost, who never took off his mask.

“Simon.” Price spoke, taking a drag on his cigarette, and Riley jerked as if he'd been hit. “Show me your face.”

“Is that an order?” The lieutenant asked in an icy tone.

“Negative.” The captain smiled softly. “It's a request. Please, Simon, show me your face. I want to know what the man who saved my life looks like.”

Ghost exhaled a hoarse, convulsive breath, almost sobbing. His hands trembled, and some of the tea he hadn't even tasted spilled onto the floor. Price gently took the cup from him, placing it on the bench next to his own, and was about to tell Riley not to worry and that he didn't have to do what he asked if he didn't want to when the lieutenant pulled off his mask with a jerky motion and dropped it to the floor, hiding his face in his hands.

“There you go, lad.” Price reached forward and touched Ghost's arm lightly. “It's okay. It's okay.”

Slowly and gently, he took the lieutenant's wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. Riley didn't resist, just started shivering and almost moaned when he felt the captain take his chin, urging him to lift his head.

“You did good, lad.” Price continued to say, trying to keep his voice calm and gentle. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

It seemed to help. Ghost closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, and the captain silently looked at his face, covered with terrible and still very fresh scars.

There were scars on his forehead, on his temple, on the bridge of his nose, on his chin, and on his throat. One, vertical, crossed the lieutenant's thin lips, and the other two, the largest, uneven and bulging, bisected his cheeks, drawing a terrible Glasgow smile on his face. Price had seen all sorts of sick shit during his years in the military, but this... One can only imagine how much suffering Riley had endured and how many scars like this or even worse covered his body. Now the captain understood why the lieutenant never took off his mask in front of others. Even he, an experienced soldier, was shocked by what he saw; what to say about the rookies, the base staff, or civilians?

“Your tea is getting cold.” Nevertheless, Price spoke calmly and gently, handing Riley his cup.

The lieutenant silently took it and made a couple of sips, looking uncertainly at the captain: he did not look frightened, there was no disgust on his face, and on the contrary, he smiled warmly, looking in Riley's eyes.

“Want a drag?” The captain continued and held out a cigarette. “Go ahead and finish it. We have to save them too, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Finally, Riley spoke, inhaled the bitter smoke, and exhaled slowly, throwing his head back. “Captain?”

“What, Simon?”

“Thank you.” The lieutenant looked in his eyes.

Price smiled, then reached out and stroked Riley's cheek, lightly at first, then more firmly when he saw that he didn't mind. Ghost bowed his head, rubbing against the rough but gentle palm, and the captain involuntarily thought about how long it had been since this man had felt even such a simple and uncomplicated caress.

“It’s I who thank you, Simon.” He said. “I owe you one now.”

Price patted the bench next to him, and the lieutenant sat down humbly, letting the captain’s arm around his shoulders, then Ghost putting his face under the caress again. However, Price didn't last long—his leg started to hurt again, and weakness spread through his body. Riley helped him to lie down and then began to walk back and forth, washing cups, turning clothes to dry, putting wood in the stove... Before Price finally drifted off to sleep, he realized that Riley had not put his mask back on.

[spinningalbinoturtle]

Jobs LOTR characters would have in the modern world

Sam

Landscaper or forest conservationist. I headcanon that he started out training in his dad’s landscaping business and then Frodo and Bilbo encouraged him to get a higher education. He double majors in sustainable agriculture and forestry. I think he would work for like a national park or another conservation agency but he’s really passionate and good at working with impacted communities and local farmers since he came from a blue collar background

Frodo

Like in the books he has a passion for languages and so is a translator and has a phd in linguistics. I think he might work at a museum or even in archaeology. I could also see him doing some kind of social work since he is willing to give anyone a chance (like Gollum). After his traumatic experiences he probably works from home translating novels

Merry

Merry is a trust fund kid and a stoner. He studies business in college and his dad hopes he will use it to make bank but he uses it to open up a really successful weed store in California

Pippin

Like Merry is a trust fund kid, he helps out at Merry’s store but doesn’t really have a real job

Aragorn

I could see him as an EMT or a search and rescue officer in a huge national park similarly park ranger would make sense. Elrond wants him to be a doctor or a lawyer but he likes his park ranger job

Boromir

Military. Not sure which branch maybe army? He retires in his forties and hangs out with Merry and Pippin at their weed store and lets his vet buddies in on their good deals

Gandalf

Old professor at an esteemed college but he’s very much considered an eccentrentic by other staff

Legolas

He’s an influencer and model. He has like 2 million followers on instagram and is constantly terrifying his PR person (Aragorn or Boromir alternate this job)

Gimli

Geologist. He’s done a lot of different jobs within that from working for the government to high end jewelry stores to making his own stone crafts

Eowyn

Works for Planned Parenthood and also operates a horse barn where people teach lessons and board their horses. She’s really chill at her barn because she gets all her anger out at the pro choice marches she organizes

Elrond

World renowned doctor. Probably a heart surgeon. Kind of full of himself for this

Not sure yet what Arwen and Faramir do…

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XVII: Dilemma

1 hour before the end of the SCR's assault against the Argonaut...

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

"We'll get you fixed, oh dear... we'll get you fixed as much as possible."

Doctor Faulkner was intensely working at restoring a dying Jimmy splayed across his operating table, kept unconscious from the anesthetics the doctor had placed in his IV. The continual bombardment of the Argonaut had rendered several of his Surgery Bay's capabilities damaged, including the Cloning Conduit that produced new limbs and organs.

It didn't take long to repair all of Jimmy's physical injuries; including the mutilation of his fingers and eye, he was only left with surgery on his brain, completely intent on fixing every illnesses plaguing this man.

Unlike Hawkes, Faulkner was similar to Annie, in that he had sworn the Hippocratic Oath and was only revitalized in his beliefs to help others by the Day of Erudition. If God had personally given them a mandate to live, then why would he, a mere doctor, defy this divine mandate?

He knew how much Hawkes wanted to paint the room with this man's blood, but Faulkner was heavily set on redemption, finding a path which even this walking garbage could achieve. There was no place for Jimmy on the Argonaut, but if his unconscious body was left for the SCR to pick up, there was a very good chance he would be pressed into their service and could do some good in his own way.

Pirates? The Separatists? No, Faulkner didn't tell anyone on board, but he'd interacted with them outside the Argonaut many times in his younger years—except they weren't called the SCR, instead known decades ago as the Hannou Armed Forces. Hailing from the planet of Hannou, their homeworld suffered a global civil war over supply shortages and mass hysteria during the era when the Terror and its innumerable spawn were wreaking havoc across humanity's many colonies.

It was the usual 'planet falls into disarray' type of story that afflicted several worlds across the galaxy. Supply cut-off from Terra created shortages in several industries reliant on intragalactic trade, which led to a scarcity of products, which then cascaded into internal strife and wealth concentration, then into civil war, populist warlords, the deaths of hundreds of millions, and eventually a weak reunification of law and order under a now-depleted homeworld. From what Faulkner last heard, Hannou was now a third-world, barely sustaining itself on subsistence agriculture, forestry, animal husbandry, mining, and fishing; a level of living that predated even the ancient 1900s industrial era. 

And yet, for its gruesome and bloody history, the people of Hannou had never lost the traits inherent in the populace before its fall- compassionate, zealous, forthright and honorable. The only difference from those decades ago and now was...

The Hannou wanted to commit genocide against Canaris- primarily because Canaris was responsible for fueling the civil strife during that period of Hannou's lifespan, getting rich off the arms trade, espionage, and lending out mercenary groups to all sides of the conflict. That kind of interference was not forgotten, and it was the breaking point that led to the reunification of Hannou under a one-world government again- united in their murderous desire to seek revenge against Canaris for its historical atrocities.

Faulkner possessed this same hatred for the Canaris leadership responsible for that and several other exploitative practices, but his loyalty to his homeworld outpaced that loathing for the higher echelons of Canaris society. Additionally, with all the time served on the Argonaut and under Hawkes' oversight, he'd become acutely aware that Captain Hawkes had largely prevented and deterred more of that kind of exploitation as he got older and more ingrained into the elitist levels of Canaris.

A hero he was, to Faulkner. But a hero whose sense of morality Faulkner didn't agree with. Not after resurrection became possible, especially.

"Once you are patched up," Faulkner spoke to the unconscious body of Jimmy, as if airing out his thoughts. "I'll send you on your way, with little doubt you'll be taken by the Hannou. You will see their history, and know that they, too, are mired with terrible fortune and a sickening past."

He began the brain surgery, making use of medical devices and surgery tools to crack open the cranium as he continued his terse speech.

"A second chance. Doesn't that sound appealing? God gave you this chance, sir. You've done terrible, terrible things, and I expect this is your only and last chance to make up for it. Help the Hannou- help them recover, help them heal, no matter how small of a contribution you make. You will not be plagued by schizophrenia, nor narcissism, nor the other half-dozen issues in your mind since birth. Which means you will have no more excuses for your choices."

Several minutes passed as the surgery was ongoing, until Faulkner ran into a problem.

"Oh, dear... I'll have barely enough material left to remedy your last illnesses. Blast it!"

Not only that, but Faulkner was running out of time. It was looking like the only illness he would be unable to cure with time and material was Jimmy's reduced gray areas that resulted in narcissism. He sighed, looking down at the still-unconscious Jimmy, his face serenely peaceful despite the heavy bags under his eyes.

"You'll have to make do, sir. All you have left is your narcissism. Overcome it! "

Faulkner finished the brain surgery up, restoring skin, sinew, muscle, and bone before removing the IV from Jimmy's arm and hauling him onto his back, groaning as the weight of Jimmy bore down on him. Straining, he dragged Jimmy over to the medical door, opening it and keycarding the reinforced plating so it would slide into its interior hinges, allowing Faulkner to drag Jimmy out into the hallway and lay him down, looking around the hallways for any sign of the Hannou-

BSSSSSSSSSSSCH-KRRRRRRRRCH!

"LORD ALMIGHTY!" Faulkner screamed in terror as a breaching pod slammed through the hallway corridor a few meters south, sending a deafening roar through the hallways and a brief moment of depressurization. Not wanting to get kidnapped himself, Faulkner scrambled back into the office and closed the reinforced plating, looking through the one-way tinted window as SCR fighters cleared the hallways, arriving upon Jimmy's body and dragging him out of view, likely to be abducted and transferred back to the Armada. Faulkner slumped below the window, huffing in fatigue.

"May the Lord have mercy on your soul." He muttered. "And may you make the right choices this time around, Jimmy."

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

Thirty minutes after defeat against the Argonaut...

The SCR Armada, or what was left of it, was forced to limp back home in humiliating defeat, having FTL jumped away from the Argonaut after the surviving boarding pods had returned to their capital ships. As the boarding pod reinitiated with the capital ship of Aurora, piloted by Captain Dino 'Don' Morettison, an eccentric and charismatic Italian who undoubtedly raging across the entire ship right now.

The pod opened its four-fold doors, allowing Pandan to limp out to a massive hangar bay filled with dying and injured SCR fighters being dragged to the Medical Wing, whilst other crewmates were scurrying about trying to repair the severe damages to the capital ship. Pandan groaned in pain and misery as he stumbled his way to a remote area, finding a janitorial closet and closing the door behind him before pulling up his shoulder radio to speak to the onboard ship's Communications Director.

"Quinn, redirect me to that useless fucking informant."

"On it."

Pandan waited a few seconds while the channel was redirected to an encrypted channel reserved for spies and informants.

"What is it?"

"Your 'spy' was fucking useless, you piece of shit. Said absolutely nothing about FOLDING WALL PANELS!"

"Our asset does not hide information from us. It is insanely likely they were not aware of this development on the Argonaut. Do not blame us for your shortcomings in strategy and tact, simply because you fail to act on your feet."

"FUCK. YOU!" Pandan cursed out the radio. "I'm speaking to the ship's Captain about this, BASTARD! I don't give a shit how long you've been 'reliable' to him, you FUCKED us completely!"

"You waste my time."

The radio clicked off, and Pandan tore the radio from his uniform and hurled it at the wall, watching in frustrated satisfaction as it burst into a hundred pieces scattering across the floor.

"FUCK YOU, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!" He shouted in futile fury at the broken radio. "FUCK! FUUUUCK!"

Pandan groaned and shouted in utter frustration, infinitely in rage over how overwhelmingly they lost the battle. Utterly defeated, he fell against the back wall and slid down in complete misery, sobbing as he recounted the battle brothers and sisters that had boarded with him into that nightmare.

Why? He thought. Why did we ever think it was feasible to attack that tyrannical behemoth? What were these fucking idiots thinking? I was right to protest. We lost so many, no doubt resurrected and imprisoned on their way to Canaris to be executed.

His head was placed in his hands, shaking quietly in disgrace. Maybe the bastard was right. Maybe he was just a bad leader, a bad strategist- a bad improviser.

"We captured someone? Who??"

"Some fuck from Pony Express of all places! What the hell was an employee from that shithole doing on the Argonaut?"

Pandan raised his head from his palms, interest piqued as he listened in on the conversation outside the closet.

"Where are they taking him?"

"Holding, apparently, next to all the Canary trash. They're gonna vet him and see if he's Canarisian, or loyal to the Argonaut."

Pandan's eyes narrowed, then lowered in malevolent but calculated, silent, sadistic eagerness, getting up from the floor and throwing the closet door open, smacking the face of one of the unfortunate grunts standing outside.

"OW! You motherf- oh-! Sir!"

The grunt's irritation quickly changed to discipline and humility as Lieutenant Pandan's face emerged from the closet with a violent grimace, speaking coldly to the grunt with a sincere, long-term plan in mind.

"Bring me to him."

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

(Music: "Hex - Krushfunk version", by kxttn

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

In the Terrarium, both garrison officers and crewmates were arm in arm, dancing and celebrating at the second major victory in their campaign; saving the Tulpar crew, and now having fended off an entire Armada of pirates with no (permanent) casualties! 

VICTORY!

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

A string of Argonauts were in a horizontal line standing next to one another, arms around each other's shoulders, kicking their feet up like a loony version of the Can-Can as they shouted the bestial chant from the song's barely discernible lyrics. Onlookers cheered and engaged in their own unique dances- Sergeants breakdancing, Privates doing the giddy griddy, Lieutenants and heads of departments moving their hands, arms, legs, and hips in jubilant, victorious fashion.

"BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW! BOW!"

The bar staff had abandoned their duties hours ago, leaving the liquor and beer to be pilfered by heavily drunken crewmates, who were absolutely gurgling the abrasive substance like it was Dragonbreath Mouthwash on a stranded freighter. Some of the crewmates, who had been merrymaking long before the rest of the crew gathered in the terrarium, occasionally ran off to the restrooms to vomit their guts out, before taking a medical injector filled with ascetic acid to reset their intoxication and doing the whole thing over again.

Danny, who was a teetotaler on alcohol and drugs, was absolutely floored by the deviant, junkie behavior of the crewmates using this method to keep the party going endlessly.

"Are you fucks trying to revive an eldritch pleasure god?!" He shouted in outrage at the giggling, fleeing, and sobrietized crewmates leaving the bathroom for further merrymaking. The joke he made was quite esoteric in nature, referencing a grimdark sci-fi franchise he had become a fan of after uncovering an archive of them on a captured transport vessel carrying relics, and he was quietly hoping someone else would have knowledge of this fascinating genre he'd uncovered.

Then he realized that no, in fact, no one would have knowledge of a fucking relic from ancient times and the contents inside it. Danny nodded to himself, determined to share the manuscripts he found from the collection with others on the ship who shared the same love for gritty sci-fi.

"BLURRRGGHHH!!!"

"The fuck?" Danny muttered, hearing the sound of someone vomiting in the stalls and groaning in pain. It was, in fact, Emile with a low tolerance for alcohol, emptying the contents of their stomach into the pristine inside of the toilet bowl, whilst Marcel held Emile's hair back to prevent contamination.

"Was fifteen shots necessary?"

"Y-Yes... BLURGGGHHH!!!!"

"I don't know if the Captain would have made that decision."

"S-Shut up... Grk!... he probably drinks... Grk... like a fish-! BLAAARGGHHH!!!"

Danny silently laughed at the unfortunate crewmate's predicament, whoever they were. Even if sobering medical injectors were prevalent today, a person's constitution did not change even if the intoxication was removed. Nausea from alcohol is caused because it irritates the lining of the stomach.

Somehow, knowing this little fact and being able to use it at a time like this only made the crewmate's misfortune even more hilarious to him, and he bellowed out raucous laughter as he exited the restroom with imperial swagger.

"Who the fuck was that??" Marcel muttered confusedly. "What a madman."

"Fukkin... asshole, that guy... BLUURGGG-"

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

Meanwhile, the crew of the Numia were permitted to attend the terrarium party and took the opportunity to suck in alcohol like there was no tomorrow- after the stress they'd endured, how close their lives came to an abrupt end, a party was exactly what they were looking for. Only a few stayed behind to head to the Medical Bay, where Annie was assessing Argonauts for mental trauma. Alina, Cortia and Haxel had been escorted by Derek and Sal (carried exhaustively for the most part) to where Annie was assessing a shockingly short line of Argonauts. They came upon her in the Bay, tiredly asking a retinue of questions to each Argonaut, and as Derek listened in, it went from genuine, to half-hearted, to straight-up bullshit answers.

"So, Mr. Lanskey, have you felt a surge of strong emotions since your return?"

"Yes... it feels like I'm going to explode from the inside, but it's also... amazing. I mean, it is euphoric. Honestly, I think you should try it out and see-"

"Uh, no, I'm good. Next! Hello Ms. Sandy. Have you noticed any mental or physical symptoms or issues after your revival?"

"Mm... no, not really."

"...Uh, okay. You seem surprisingly calm for having just returned from the dead."

"I mean, everyone handles death differently, right?"

"...The quote goes "everyone handles grief differently", but sure, I guess you have a point. But... I mean, really? No symptoms at all?"

"Nope."

"....Okay. Has there been a noticeable change in your worldviews or-"

"No, I'm tellin' ya- look, can I just go to the Terrarium?? I lost a bet and now I have to do a keg stand!"

"Uh...okay. I guess if there's nothing wrong with you... sure. What bet did you lose?"

"Dying during the pirate skirmish."

As the Argonaut officer stood up from the chair and pumped her fists in the air as she headed out the door, Annie could only stare confusedly at the exiting Argonaut, wondering if this whole crew was deranged beyond sanity.

"...Okay, then. Mr... Ramshack. How have you-"

"You know, I'm kinda pissed, because I got shot in the head by a heavy caliber round, so I didn't really get to see my death coming, you know? And, I'm pissed because, well, I was kinda interested in seeing what it'd feel like, but instead I'm just fighting in the corridors, and suddenly I wind up on the altar."

Annie stared with wide eyes and an unmoving expression at the demented man in front of her.

"So, I just had like, one request if you'd oblige. Can you shoot me in the chest and let me bleed out before you revive me again? Cuz this time around, I wanna-"

"NEXT!"

The Argonaut was saddened and dragged his feet out of the room. Sal and Derek came up next in line, with Alina and Cortia's traumatized bodies in tow, whilst Haxel walked almost as if he were in a daze.

Oh thank God, normal people, Annie was about to say. That sentiment didn't hold when Sal approached her and dumped Alina's body on the ground in fatigue, much to Annie's shock and concern.

"The fuck-! DON'T JUST DUMP HER ON THE GROUND LIKE THAT!"

"Fuckin... what? What do you want from... me! She's fuckin... heavy!" Sal protested, heaving gasps of air from both lack of fitness and exhaustion from hauling a limp body for hundreds of feet in distance.

Derek slowly lowered Cortia to the ground, letting her body flop across the hard-tiled floor like a dead fish out of water. He was heartbroken at the state of his fiance, but at the same time there was something... morbidly humorous about seeing one's fiance splayed out over a white-tiled floor like a vegetable.

"Heh." Annie chuckled under her breath, though still heard by Derek, who was hypocritically outraged.

"You're laughing at my fiance!" He chided her, receiving a 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' shoulder shrug from Annie, who stared him down in subtle contempt and loathing.

"And you brought a pirate armada shitstorm to our doorstep."

Derek had literally nothing to counter that with. Annie sighed and turned to look at Cortia, Alina and Haxel.

"How am I going to assess catatonic patients?" She asked them, much to their confusion.

"I-I don't fuckin' know!" Derek exclaimed, increasingly distressed at the state of his loved one.

"That's what we brought them to you for, Doc!" Sal accused Annie, who raised her palms up in a peace-making gesture.

"Fine, fine. Let me take a look."

Whilst Annie was doing boring medical shit with inconsequential persons, Wataru and Elliot were in another part of the ship- scavenging for dropped trinkets and other items from the recent battle. Whilst the bodies had been cleaned up, the myriad of blood, gore, dents, and left-behind items remained, as the near-entirety of the crew almost immediately surged for the terrarium to celebrate their victory. Discipline was an on-off switch on this ship, and it depended entirely on the orders and mood of the Captain, which was absolutely batshit insane in retrospect, but seemed completely sane and reasonable to the crew of the Argonaut, who had practically and collectively relied on their Captain's instinct and leadership for thirty whole years (both literally and through folklore and social reinforcement).

Wataru, who was usually a more naive and innocent soul, was only roped into the scheme by Elliot because he convinced her there would be unique and reliquary keychains and artifacts on some of the SCR fighters' weaponry and in their pack bags, gaslighting her into believing that these third-world militiamen were just as stylish as the Matlo Brigade.

"This place looks like the aftermath of a horror movie," Wataru mumbled nervously, unsettled greatly by the blood and gore spread amongst the halls like a painting gone awry. Elliot was deep in search of advanced weaponry, as he was working on a blueprint for a potential Dark Matter rifle capable of piercing even Achilles Series armor. With that kind of weaponry only available to the Argonauts, every close-combat battle would be won before the boarding even began. 

He felt a moment of deep gratitude for the Captain of this ship, who authorized its creation when Elliot pitched it to him. This wasn't legal AT ALL by any standard of any nation in the entire galaxy; but Hawkes had only authorized it because he intended to show the ruling class in Canaris these inventions, to get a permit, law and patent to use them in future battles.

He recalled this very short conversation about the questions of legality that Elliot had for Hawkes...

"I won't get killed for building this, right?"

"You'll get killed if you don't build it, is that good enough incentive?"

Elliot knew the Captain was joking, but with his seven-foot demeanor, scar-scattered body, and constantly-searing eyes, it was very difficult to take a dark joke from Hawkes lightly.

"I simply can't believe you can create such a weapon." Hawkes said coldly. "It took fifty-five, once-in-a-century geniuses to create the blueprints for the first Dark Matter Reactor and Quantum Positioning Relay. You... expect me to believe you can follow that precedent and craft a portable weapon with that kind of power? If it gets broken, does it create a 100 million mile explosion radius?"

"No, I think I can take it down to just 20 million miles."

Hawkes stared him dead in the eyes, and Elliot cracked a grin.

"I'm joking. Yes, I can find a way to neutralize the possibility of collision entirely."

"Right. Well, when we get back to Canaris, you can get a trip to the Tylahar Research Station 200 million miles away and do your research there."

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

Elliot looked back fondly on the memory, a big enjoyer of Hawkes' conversations more than most others on the ship.

"You said there'd be keychains, but I'm not seeing any." Wataru complained, much to Elliot's annoyance.

"Well, search harder, then!"

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

(Music: "BAILE DE LA VICTORIA", by IAMTRA$H)

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

The crew of the Argonaut and Numia were still enjoying their time in the terrarium, which had gotten even more chaotic, trashed and filled with unconscious bodies lying around the longer the solar night went on. The dancing had become sloppy yet still remained full of passion, even more so in the revived.

Sammy, the Second Officer watching from an elevated floor above the terrarium, was utterly bewildered at how quickly the revived officers got over the trauma and returned to normalcy- completely different from how the Tulpar Crew's revival went. Perhaps it was because they were so used to violence and death that it didn't change their worldview much to return? Did they see any kind of afterlife when they died, or was it just immediate return to life from the point of death to the point of resurrection?

He was infinitely curious at the still-unveiling questions and answers about this phenomenon, but not as curious as he was about the conversation going on in the Captain's Suite- where Hawkes was desperately trying to keep the Tulpar Crew from going insane.

"Hhhh! Hhh! Hhhh!"

Anya was sat in a corner of the room, irises dilated and eyes widened in clear catatonic shock, breathing heavily as if reliving some horrid experiences continually in her head. Curly and Swansea had been restrained by their hands and feet, as they would not stop rabidly and ferociously trying to leave the Suite to track down and kill Jimmy- which they made plentifully clear by the raucuous shouting and screaming tearing out of their throats like verbalized murder.

Daisuke was left staring out the window of the terrarium blankly, his eyes seemingly staring past the hundreds of crewmates on the bottom floor partying.

Hawkes was absolutely miserable. But more than that, seeing how Jimmy had unraveled all of their mental growth in one fell swoop-

CRACK!

He growled gutturally as he felt the radio he was trying to thumb crush under his hand, and scattered the pieces across the floor as he stormed over to an extremely discomforted Caz. 

Please don't kill me, He thought in pure horror, seeing the look of broiling, silent RAGE lining every fiber of Captain Hawkes' body. He had never seen a silent, angry Hawkes in his entire tenure on this ship. Please don't kill me, Please don't kill me-

"RADIO." Hawkes spoke deafeningly at him, and Caz frantically unclipped the radio from his shoulder holster and offered it to the Captain with quivering hands.

"H-Here you g-go, sir-!"

The Captain snatched it out of his hands and thumbed the radio, trying not to crush yet another one with uncontrolled rage.

"LILY."

"Y-Yes, Captain!"

"WHERE. IS. HE."

"Our cameras captured him in the Medical Wing, he was last seen lying on the ground before getting abducted by the SCR-"

CRACK!

Another radio turned into dust, and an even angrier Hawkes was left with a blank mind that only yearned to slaughter millions of lives to sate this all-encompassing tidal wave of Apoplexy.

Looking back at the Tulpar Crew, seeing how broken they were in the moment, Hawkes suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion rush over him. After all the time he'd spent coaxing them to move past the trauma, it was back to square one.

"I...I... can't do this shit right now."

He was tired- even with his superhuman strength, intellect and endurance, he was still human. 

Turning to Caz with a bone-tired demeanor, he issued an order weakly.

"Get them... to the medical wing. Assessments, then to their rooms."

Caz nodded firmly, ordering the other garrison officers on standby to gently escort the four shattered souls to the Medical Wing. Captain Hawkes sighed deeply, dragging his feet to his quarters. On the way there, he was supplemented with another radio by a passing officer, who told him there was a message from Elise.

"Captain Hawkes."

"What is it, cheese-eating surrender monkey?"

"Where are you? I'm gonna beat your ass."

"What do you WANT!"

"The recorded logs for the Tulpar have finished. If you'd like to review them I've sent it to your holopad."

Hawkes sighed, thumbing the radio to respond.

"Thanks, Elise."

"Mhm, no problem Bigfoot."

Hawkes chuckled dryly, turning off the radio and heading to his quarters. He had practically figured out most of the history behind the Tulpar and what happened with the crew on it, but reviewing the logs would give him some more insight into how he could potentially bring the Tulpar Crew back from their mental degradation.

As he walked through the halls, he was considering whether or not to chase the SCR Armada and finish them off so he could kill Jimmy once and for all, and to prevent them from regrowing in strength again.

But... that didn't seem like the right path. Even if his BLACK RAGE was yearning for that choice, he knew the most optimal decision was to head back to Canaris with the Tulpar Crew and finish the mission they were on. And Hawkes had absolutely no desire to risk the lives of his family once again for petty revenge.

Before heading to his quarters, he made a quick detour to Curly's room, dreading to see what state he was in. As he opened the door-

"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY."

"I-I can't, Curly-"

Curly was wrathfully confronting the garrison officer standing near the door inside the spacious room Curly was placed in. His face was stretched and contorted in unnatural and withering fury, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that blood was seen visibly running down his fingers and palms. It was a miracle he hadn't fought the officer yet.

Hawkes smoothly entered the room and greeted Curly to calm the tension.

"Hey, Curly."

Curly's face veered towards Hawkes, and seemed to dissipate from the rage for a moment.

"Wh- Hawkes. Hawkes, where is he? Let's kill him, I'll help you. Swansea will help you. Just put us in a room together for 10 minutes, please."

And here came an ultimatum. If he told Curly that Jimmy escaped, it was very likely Curly would hardly be able to recover from this wrath. The alternative...

Was to lie. Lie, for the first time, to his family. The thought of it sickened him to his stomach; he had no issue manipulating foes, rivals, and enemies for his own gain; lying to his family, the ones he loved, was something else entirely.

He couldn't deliberate long, as Curly was getting more and more restless the longer Hawkes stood there. Hawkes silently grit his teeth, despairing over the decision he was about to make.

"Jimmy was shot and killed by the pirates." Hawkes said. "Their boarding pod was exploded by one of our cannons, and his body was sucked out into the void. That's a permanent death."

Curly seemed shocked and highly unsatisfied by that answer, but his rage seemed to die down somewhat, his gaze beaming pure wrath at the ground.

"Lucky little fuck." Curly muttered furiously. "Lucky little... fucking cunt."

Curly suddenly seemed exhausted, crumpling into a sitting position and drawing several heavy breaths.

"...Fuck it. Bastard got what he deserved. No point wasting more thoughts on that scum."

Hawkes nodded emphatically, deeply hoping down that the pirates would torture and kill him so that there was no chance of any encounter with him again.

"I'll tell Swansea the same."

Curly nodded tiredly, and Hawkes left the room with a lump in his throat, waiting for the door to close before he silently cried to himself in the hallway. Lying to family felt terrible to him, as if he'd driven a knife into their back.

As some garrison officers were rounding the corner, he quickly wiped his eyes and saluted them before heading to Swansea's room to break the false news.

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

Hawkes sat in his quarters, having done what he needed to do for the day and winding down for the solar night; the lights dimmed to reflect the night-time.

He scrolled through the footage inside the Tulpar, reviewing dozens of clips all at once and analyzing them within seconds. At the same time, he scrolled through news channels and media sources about Canaris to keep updated on any breaking news or developing events since he'd been gone. Luckily, it seemed rather tame for the last 10 months he'd been searching, aside from one article that caught his attention.

"'Crew of five disappear from voyager spacecraft after returning from the Hoila Nebula exploration, docks with space station and reveals no passengers onboard'. The fuck kind of horror story is this?"

Sighing, he swiped the article away on his massive, 2D projected interface, continuing to review the footage.

Two months before return to Canaris... he would be doing all in his effort to restore the Tulpar's crew mental states once more. It'd be harrowing, but nothing would stop him from saving them in their entirety.

Only two months.

[strathshepard]

The Forestry Building, Portland, Oregon, 1905. Known as the “World’s Largest Log Cabin,” the building measured 206 feet long, 102 feet wide, 72 feet high and utilized over a million board feet of lumber.  It was destroyed by a fire in 1964.

[jojo-oliver]

hi... i was too socially anxious to say anything in person but i was at campbell river pride and i really appreciated seeing your work in person :) i've always admired your stuff on tumblr and had no idea you were from BC! campbell river is kind of a hard place to be queer in and seeing artists selling their pride wares joyfully healed me. i wasn't able to buy anything in person but i hope to buy something online eventually. your art means a lot to people.

Hey, I want you to know that there are queer people all around you. I've been secretly investigating. I've been going to every 2SLGBTQIA+ group's events and introducing myself. I'm in Courtenay and people from Campbell River travel here. I want you to know that there are older gay men who act fatherly towards me and if you didn't know you'd assume they're cishet. They live beside you. There's gay polycules in your area. The same people who look like they work in oil or on a fishing boat. There's middle aged bisexuals who never came out to their parents in their 60s. There's trans people in their 30s who aren't as up to date on the web, but they also live beside you. So many people have reached out to me from the flyers I've been putting everywhere. Did you know you have a vibrant community all around you? We're on a retirement island with an older age base. They're older. They meet up at restaurants sometimes. Some talk about their travels and compare the food to the different countries they've been in. Others talk about the northern forestry towns they've cruised in. If you're ever in Courtenay and you're looking to connect with the local community, DM me. I am so serious, I'd love to send you resources. We're doing Trans Nites every 2 weeks, for all ages and genders. We play board games and go swimming. Did you know there's queer camp outs? The ones I'm seeing for this summer are for ages 7-12 but that's what I'm immediately seeing available. My friend Meika is out hosting a queer camp right now. They're a youth event facilitator. These things are mostly organized on facebook. I can send you the flyers and event information in DM if you want it. Or for anyone else who happens to be near Comox Valley and DMs me. Hi, I love you, I want you to know that there are friends all around you that I have personally met and know the names of. I want you to know that the event organizers are busy creating community and making more for you. I know there's not much in Campbell River, the people who come to our events have told me that. But there's more coming. Also I remember there was someone I scared away twice who looked very afraid. I promise you I'm just a scrungly goblin, I can barely piece my words together in social situations like that hahahaha. We'll be at Courtenay Pride in the Park and we'll be at Discovery Islands pride if they respond to my emails. I hope to see you again thank you for leaving this message in my inbox!!!!

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from EcoWatch:

The second edition of The State of Carbon Dioxide Removal report — co-led by University of Oxford researchers — has found that, in order to reach global climate targets, governments must expand tree planting and the use of technologies to increase carbon dioxide removal (CDR) by four times annually.

The report found that it will be necessary to remove roughly 7.72 to 9.92 billion tons of carbon from the atmosphere each year by 2050 to meet the Paris Agreement goal of limiting global heating to 1.5 degrees Celsius, a press release from University of Oxford said.

The researchers emphasized that carbon emissions reductions will continue to be the main avenue to achieving net zero, but CDR will also be crucial.

“Given the world is off track from the decarbonisation required to meet the Paris temperature goal, this shows the need to increase investment in CDR as well as for zero-emission solutions across the board,” said Dr. Steve Smith of University of Oxford’s Smith School of Enterprise and the Environment in the press release.

In order to come up with a “Paris-consistent” CDR range, the researchers factored sustainability criteria into their analysis, including multiple sustainable development goals.

“Deploying a diverse CDR portfolio is a more robust strategy than focusing on just one or two methods. Research, invention, and investment in start-ups show diversification across CDR methods. However, current deployment and government proposals for future implementation are more concentrated on conventional CDR, mainly from forestry,” said Dr. Oliver Geden, a senior fellow with the German Institute for International and Security Affairs, in the press release.

Two billion tons of carbon are being removed annually by CDR, primarily through conventional means like tree planting. Newer methods, such as enhanced rock weathering, biochar, bioenergy with carbon capture and storage and direct air carbon capture and storage, account for 1.43 million tons each year — less than 0.1 percent. Permanent removal methods make up less than 0.05 percent, or 0.66 million tons, per year.

[alphamode42069]

pinned post | 2025 about me 𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘

lane • he/they/she • 21

hi ! i’m lane ! i’m a little awkward but hopefully i make up for that with enthusiasm :D feel free to dm and chat, as long as you aren’t creepy. always happy to make new friends <3

i have plans to post lots of different things! mostly music related probs :3 so keep an eye out !!! [topsters, album reviews / mood boards, film reviews / stills, my photography, fashion inspo / ootds, + more]

my interests ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

i’m a big music nerd ! i love 90’s music ! my all time favorite band is hole > i absolutely adore both the 90’s grunge and riot grrrl music ! extra appreciative of female artists and female lead bands ! i also love melancholy artists like fiona apple, elliot smith, and jeff buckley. my cd collection is my baby ԅ[ •́ ﹏ •̀ ]و

i love video games and comics as well !! my current game rotation includes the sims 4, minecraft, l4d2, fields of mistria, alice madness returns, the walking dead, and i will soon be downloading identity v !! i will probably post screenshots of my games especially minecraft :3 you have been warned !! anyways, my favorite comic series is scott pilgrim !! my fav characters are kim pine, knives, young neil, and julie powers ! (kim pine the woman you are…)

my current obsession is yellowjackets !! i love watching edits, so feel free to send some lolz :3 my favorite characters are lottie, shauna, misty, and adult nat !!! also van !! my all time favorite is lottie mathew’s !! i love lottie !! i’m literally lottie mathew’s irl !!!

extras; i love sea creatures, and the forest :3 once i go back to college i plan on majoring in forestry ! i also love dolls! especially monster high & novi star ! lately i’ve been getting into lps thanks to my dear friend, teddy.i love collecting things! my collections include; nail polish, cds, manga, and dolls. my favorite colors are dark red, green, and black :)

thank you for reading !! let’s be moots ! ฅ⁽͑ ˚̀ ˙̭ ˚́ ⁾̉ฅ

[simshousewindsor]

By Cameron Dorly | Published by SNN

Rainier, Prince consort attends a reception and gala dinner at the 8th Commonwealth Forestry Society’s annual gala in Norfolk. The Prince consort addressed visiting dignitaries and guests at the gala dinner as Norfolk plays host to the first Forestry Society gala outside of Greater Easton.

The Prince consort, wearing a blue tuxedo jacket, was greeted by crowds of adoring fans. The event, which lasts for two days, is being held outside of Easton for the first time.

His Royal Highness, a fervent supporter of action on climate change, told the gathering of 1,600 political and business leaders from over 115 countries the deterioration of “nature’s capital reserves” like water and soils can cause direct impacts on food and energy security.

The Prince consort was met by Guest speaker, prominent Windenburg architect and board leader, Bryan Shaffer, a Norfolk native.

Norfolk, about 130 miles east of Greater Easton, is home to Similhill Forestry the UK’s leading sustainable forest and timber harvesting company. As part of the Commonwealth Forestry Society, which is the UK’s largest forestry and timber business, Similhill offers a comprehensive range of services to woodland owners, public bodies, farmers, landowners and private companies across the UK.

The Prince met delegates before taking to the lectern and while much of the discussion was on congratulating The Prince on the recent coronation, it primarily focused on the desire to forge business links outside the UK.

“The tragic conflict in Sulani provides a terrifyingly graphic example, where a severe drought for the last four years has decimated Sulani’s rural economy, driving many farmers off their fields and into cities where, already, food was in short supply.” he said. “This depletion of natural capital, inexplicably, little reported in the media, was a significant contributor to the social tension that exploded with such desperate results.”

Shaffer said the importance of holding the forum in Norfolk could not be understated.

“The Prince coming here is a positive event at a time when everybody’s trying to create schisms,” he said. "The President, Trustees, Executive Committee and members of the Commonwealth Forestry Society are extremely proud of the work the Prince consort is doing. As Patron of the CFS, he is a true champion of the value of forests throughout the Commonwealth."

[dailyanarchistposts]

Political Power

Along with economic power goes political power. Firstly, there is the power over working people. 70% of agricultural workers live in tied cottages. Landowners also play an important role in local politics, often having a totally disproportionate share of local council seats. Though they are less than 10% of MPs in the House of Commons, they dominate in the House of Lords. They also appear in a whole range of other capacities: National Park Boards, Countryside Commissions and Nature Conservancy. The political influence of landowners can be seen even more clearly in the farming and forestry lobbies. The main lobbies include the Country Landowners Association (CLA). Most of the CLA’s work is done within ‘the old boy’s network’. To succeed, the CLA doesn’t have to do anything but just stop anyone else from changing the status quo. Examples include removing of taxes on profit-taking, abolition of security for tenants as well as many features (e.g. trespass) of the Criminal Justice Act. There are whole aspects of land owning power that we know nothing about because of the secrecy surrounding information on who owns what. There is no open public land registry, for instance. This secrecy gives enormous power. Rural landowners own many urban properties and have control over the major primary industries that form the basis of any economy. In addition, many landowners are also industrialists or financiers or both. This is not just a matter of high finance, with banks investing in land, media magnates buying up Highland estates etc, but because of the ideological and cultural role that the landowners play in maintaining the coherence of the ruling class.

[todaysdocument]

Telegram from the Executive Board of the San Francisco District of the California Federation of Women's Clubs Supporting the Raker Bill

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Petitions and Related Documents That Were Presented, Read, or Tabled

The Raker Bill allowed San Francisco to build a dam on the Hetch Hetchy in Yosemite National Park.

[preprinted Telegraph form reads "WESTERN UNION NIGHT LETTER THEO N. VAIL, PRESIDENT Form 2289 B RECEIVED AT"] B5A LY 477 NL 124 EXTRA SAN FRANCISCO CALIF DEC 2 1913 [purple ink stamp "1913 Dec 3 AM 1 49"] [blue ink stamp "1340"] THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES WASHINGTON DC WE THE UNDERSIGNED MEMBERS OF THE EXECUTIVE BOARD OF THE SAN FRANCISCO DISTRICT OF THE CALIF FEDERATION OF WOMENS CLUBS REPRESENTING A MEMBERSHIP OF SIX THOUSAND WOMEN VOTERS OF SAN FRANCISCO AND VICINITY RESPECTFULLY CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO A RESOLUTION PASSED BY OUR ORGANIZATION IN RECENT CONVENTION AT SANTA ROSA CALIF BEGGING YOUR FAVORABLE ACTION UPON THE RAKER HETCH HETCHY BILL WHICH YOU ARE NOW CONSIDERING WE BELIEVE THAT THIS RESOLUTION SHOULD BE GIVEN THE UTMOST WEIGHT AMONG ALL OF THE MASS OF ENDORSEMENTS OF AND PROTESTS AGAINST THE HETCH HETCHY BILL FOR THE REASON THAT THE WOMEN OF THIS DISTRICT HAVE BEEN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WATER PROBLEM OF SAN FRANCISCO FOR MANY YEARS AND KNOW IT AS NO OTHER WOMEN CAN POSSIBLY KNOW IT BECAUSE[stamp in purple ink "1913 DEC 3 AM 1 50"] (SHEET 2) IT HAS BEEN BEFORE US IN OUR HOMES AND IN THE MEETINGS OF OUR VARIOUS ORGANIZATIONS AND WE HAVE GIVEN IT CONSCIENTIOUS STUDY WE HAVE PASSED THESE RESOLUTIONS WITH ACKNOWLEDGE OF THE FACTS AMONG OUR MEMBERS ARE MANY WHOSE HOMES IN SAN FRANCISCO ARE WITHOUT SEMBLANCE OF FIRE PROTECTION AND WHOSE HEALTH IS ENDANGERED THROUGH THE NECESSITY OF MAKING DOMESTIC USE OF WATER COMING FROM QUESTIONABLE SOURCES WE KNOW THE THOROUGHNESS WITH WHICH SAN FRANCISCO HAS STUDIES THIS QUESTION WE STAND UPON THE FINDINGS OF THE FEDERAL COMMISSION OF ARMY ENGINEERS APPOINTED BY OUR GOVERNMENT TO STUDY OUR PROBLEM WE HAVE GIVEN CONSIDERATION TO THE POSSIBLE INJURY OF CITIZENS OF OTHER SECTIONS AND BELIEVE THAT THE RAKER BILL IS A JUST AND HONORABLE BILL PROTECTING PERSONS WHO HAVE ANY INTERESTS IN THE WATERS FLOWING THROUGH THE HETCH HETCHY WE DO NOT AGREE WITH THOSE PERSONS WHO IN OUR OPINION ARE MISGUIDED IN ADVANCING FINE DRAWN DISTINCTIONS AS TO WHETHER THE HETCH HETCHY IS MORE PICTURESQUE AS IT IS THAN IT WILL BE WHEN ITS FLOOR IS COVERED BY A BEAUTIFUL LAKE[stamp in purple ink "1913 DEC 3 AM 1 50"] (SHEET 3) WE CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WILL ALLOW THIS QUIBBLE TO ENTER INTO A QUESTION OF THIS KIND WHILE SAN FRANCISCO IS IN DESPERATE NEED OF WATER WE WANT WATER WITH JUSTICE TO ALL AND WE BEG TO AGAIN RESPECTFULLY CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO OUR FINDINGS AS EXPRESSED IN ON OUR RESOLUTIONS MRS PERCY S SHUMAN, PRESIDENT MRS PERCY KING VICE PRESIDENT MRS LEWIS E AUBURY COR SECRETARY MRS NATHAN FRANK REC SECRETARY MRS HENRY HANSEN TREASURER MRS H FINKLER AUDITOR MRS LILLIAN H COFFIN CHAIRMAN LEGISLATION MRS R V S BERRY CHAIRMAN ART MISS JENNIE PARTRIDGE CHAIRMAN CIVICS MRS J VICKERSON CHAIRMAN RECIPROCITY MRS C E CUMBERSON CHAIRMAN PEACE OR MARIANA BERTOLA CHAIRMAN HEALTH MRS NORMAN MARTIN CHAIRMAN PRESS MRS ELLA M S-EXTON CHAIRMAN EDUCATION MRS JOHN JURY CHAIRMAN MUSIC MRS C BURLINGAME CHAIRMAN HISTORY AND LANDMARKS MISS NELL H COLE CHAIRMAN FORESTRY MRS F F BOSTWICK CHAIRMAN PHILANTHROPY MRS W V GRIMES CHAIRMAN CIVIL SERVICE REFORM MRS NELLIE DENANN CHAIRMAN COUNTRY LIFE MISS M B VAIL CHAIRMAN HOUSEHOLD ECONOMICS MRS LOUIS HERTZ CHAIRMAN INDUSTRIAL AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS. 113AM