#but no that was the orange joe cap

[starfilled-galaxy]

Anyone know why the OMORI Collector's Edition came with a.... Straw???

Edit: Apparently it WAS for the pinwheel but the instructions didn’t say anything about it :’3

[vandaliatraveler]

Yet more gifts of Appalachian summer.

I've been on a mission to catalogue as many of Central Appalachia's summer wildflowers and berries as possible for an online project I'm starting up. Above is the haul from yesterday, including the stunning orange-fringed orchid (Platanthera ciliaris), a grand summer orchid of Appalachia's wet seeps and meadows. Downy rattlesnake plantain (Goodyera pubescens), another of our summer-blooming orchids, may not be quite as showy, but its intricately-patterned leaves are quite striking. Turk's-cap lily (Lilium superbum) is also in bloom in our local wet meadows and swamps. It's distinguished from its close cousin Canada lily by more strongly recurved petals and a green, star-like pattern in the center of its flowers. A single Turk's cap lily can produce dozens of flowers from its rangy stems. At home in moist woodland edges and streambanks, summer phlox (Phlox paniculata), sometimes also referred to as fall phlox and garden phlox, produces loads of gorgeous pink or white flowers from mid-July through September. Because this phlox is commonly planted in gardens nowadays, it's hard to know if plants in the wild are true natives or escapees.

[burrowlvrr]

— HUDDLE OF LOVE, joe burrow.

PAIRING: Joe Burrow 𝔁 Black!Wife!Reader

GENRE: Husband & Dad Joe

SUMMARY: In which — Joe faces an injury that brings his season to an early end, and when he gets home his wife makes sure that he knows his injury doesn't define him.

NOTE: I honestly feel like I ate this one up. But I also didn't really proof-read it, so don't hold me to that lol! This has been sitting in the drafts since Joe was hurt so it's been a min. Please send in some suggestions because writing is so fun to me now. Enjoy!

UNIVERSE: Tenderhearts & Touchdowns!

"Y'know, football is a tough sport, and injuries are unfortunately a part of it. We'll regroup, support each other, and continue to fight through the rest of the season; but, as of now, it's looking like Joe will be out for the rest of the season." Coach Zac Taylor spoke into the microphone, Y/N's head fell into her hands as she exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. That was all Y/N needed to hear, picking up the remote before shutting the television off.

Y/N had to watch her husband suffer an injury during his game against the Ravens, and if it weren't for the huge mess her children were making — they probably would've seen it to. Thankfully, they were being too rowdy to hear anything that was said on the television. She directed Hudson to the playroom so he could distract himself, and she began running Elijah's bath water first.

She tried to distract herself with things to do, knowing the emotions she was feeling were just lesser versions of what her husband would be feeling once he got home. She was now nine months pregnant, and even though she walked with a very noticeable waddle, she got around pretty well. Not to mention, it's way easier to move around when there's only one baby inside you rather than two.

She finished washing Elijah's blonde curls and got him in his pajamas before sending him to the playroom with one job — "Tell your brother I said come on." She instructed, her son playfully giving her a soldier salute before running down their tiled hallway. Within one minute, Hudson stood right behind her as she finished running his warm water. "Can I get some bubbles, mama?"

Y/N smiled at her baby boy, "Yes, baby. You can get some bubbles." She replied, dumping a small cap full of vanilla scented bubbles in his warm water. She let her child play on his own while she sat on top of the toilet seat, watching him in adoration as he continuously pushed a small boat around in his water. "Okay, bub. It's time to get washed up now.

Hudson had no complaints, doing what he could on his own before asking his mother for help. She slowly got to her knees in front of the tub, being careful when she dumped cup fulls of water onto her son's head. Once she had his hair washed, she got him out and got him dressed in his matching pajamas with Elijah. Both of them being covered in orange and black tiger stripes, a large number nine on the back, along with the lettering "Baby Burrow".

"Can you tell bubba it's time to brush our teeth?" She asked Hudson, finishing up rubbing in the dollop of child's face lotion into his skin. Hudson nodded with a toothy, but pretty but toothless, smile before he took off running to grab his twin brother.

She grabbed their step stools from under the cabinet and got their tooth brushes ready, handing them each their own as they stepped up to the sink. "Hum your ABC's, remember? Mommy is in your room, yell if you need me!" She chirped, smiling at her boys in the mirror as they moved in an identical way.

She exited the bathroom, entering their shared bedroom and untucking their sheets for them. She clicked their LED light remote a few times, landing on the color blue for the evening. She always set an hour long timer; so that by the time the boys are knocked out, so were the lights.

She waddled back into the bathroom, seeing her twins already washing their hands as they knew they were supposed to. Her boys were already so smart and they were only three, she couldn't wait to see how intelligent they were in their classrooms. "All done!" Elijah turned around and exaggeratedly jumped from the step stool, of course Hudson mirrored his actions and did a hop of his own.

"It's time for bed, my loves." She smiled warmly, seeing their faces light up as they already knew what she was about to ask. "Who can get in their bed quicker?!" She asked, and both of her boys jumped off of their back leg and sprinted towards their shared bedroom. She giggled, turning off the bathroom lights before running a hand through her curly hair.

"Who won?" She asked, smirking at her boys as she entered their blue toned bedroom. Instant chatter filled the room, fingers pointed at themselves yelping about how they won, before turning their hand and accusing the other of being a cheater. Y/N couldn't help but laugh, no matter how many times they do this, it's always the exact same. "We can have a rematch tomorrow night, alright? We'll let daddy be the judge."

Both of them liked that idea, loving anything that had to do with their father. Y/N's stomach twisted at the reminder of Joe's injury, knowing he was no more than an hour and a half away now. With forehead, cheek and tummy kisses from both of the boys, Y/N sat on the floor between their beds and began reading their favorite bedtime stories.

As the stories unfolded, Y/N could feel the gentle kicks of her unborn baby, seemingly enjoying the bedtime tales. The connection between the growing family was palpable in these intimate moments.

The room, once echoing with lively laughter, now settled into a serene atmosphere as Y/N stood from her spot on the floor. "Sweet dreams, my little stars," she whispered, planting a kiss on each of their foreheads. The twins, eyelids growing heavy, whispered their sleepy goodnights. Y/N, with a content smile, left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Y/N decided to take a quick shower, using the bathroom down the hall from her boys' bedroom just in case they woke up needing her comfort. She stepped out, washing her face and brushing her teeth, making her way to her and Joe's bedroom to put some clothes on. She always found herself freezing in her sleep, so she decided on a figure-hugging black long sleeve and a pair of customized sweatpants, the choice of lettering being "BURROW" right on her bottom.

She replaced her contacts with glasses and her tall socks with slippers, she tied her hair up into a messy ponytail before taking a seat at her marble island. She had tons of lesson plans to catch up on, doing them before the birth of her baby seemed like a good plan — because obviously, once the baby was out and a little bit older, she would have to return to work. She was an elementary school teacher, having a love for all children, no matter if they were her's biologically or just because it was her job. From a young age, she knew that she wanted to have an impact on people's lives, what better time to start than when their brain is still freshly developing?

★

Y/N had just closed her MacBook with a sigh when she heard the lock on the front door beep, indicating that someone with the code had just unlocked it. She chose to stay seated, not wanting to immediately bombard Joe once he got through the door. She continued to organize her stack of lesson plans, going on as if she didn't hear the shuffling at the front door.

It was unusually quiet to Joe, he furrowed his eyebrows as he turned his head. He listened for some sort of greeting, his eyes scanned the view of the house that he had. Nothing. No pattering of his children's feet, no scolding from his wife about their running, no 60's record spinning from the living room. He finally called out, "Hello?"

Y/N took that as her cue, sliding off of the barstool before waddling into the living room. She watched as Joe's expression visually relaxed, his shoulders now slouched as she smiled at him. "Hi, handsome. I missed you." She said happily, taking her hands and placing one on each of his rosy cheeks.

Joe wrapped his good arm around her waist. "I missed you more." He replied, looking into her eyes as she rubbed circles under his puffy eyes. Y/N helped him remove the duffle bag from his shoulder, carefully placing it on the bench near the door. Joe slid his shoes off, using his one good arm to lean on the wall as a way to steady himself. Y/N watched from a few feet away, waiting for Joe to break the silence himself.

That was when she noticed the anxious look on his face, he walked up to her and she looked up at him in concern. "Are they sleepin' already?" He asked, chewing on his bottom lip as he searched his wife's eyes. She nodded.

"Yeah, they've been out for a little over an hour now." She reassured him, knowing why he was feeling anxious and worrying about his children. He had always expressed his fears of parenthood and how his career could possibly affect that. Tonight would be one of those nights, luckily, Y/N knew that she could reassure him that the boys were not watching when he suffered his injury.

"You wanna go see 'em?" She asked, placing a hand on his arm lovingly. Joe nodded, blinking rapidly as he pulled his beanie from his head.

She reached out for his hand, he took it and tried to give her a soft smile. There was an understanding of what Joe was feeling, so they didn't need to say a thing as they ventured off upstairs. They stopped at the boys' bedroom door, and Y/N twisted the door knob as quietly as she could. She opened the door just enough that Joe could poke his head in and see his sleeping twins, Y/N followed his actions and a warm smile grew on her face. A regular occurrence in their room was Elijah getting out of his bed, and finding his way to Hudson's so they could sleep together. No matter how many times Y/N and Joe exited their room with them in separate beds, they would always come back to them sharing one.

Joe's chest heaved slower than before, letting Y/N know he had calmed down even if it wasn't much. "They're alright, honey," She spoke softly, using a warm tone that reassured Joe easily. It was no secret that toddlers are a lot to handle, but Y/N was a strong woman and knew how to work with her children. Sure, they were a handful today — but she would much rather chase them around the house, than try to wrangle them in the football stands.

Her round belly brushed against Joe's flat one as they stood close to each other, his good arm around her waist and her hand on his chest. "Absolutely pooped from all the hell they raised today." She continued, earning a soft chuckle from her husband, but another wave of silence quickly washed over them.

A million thoughts swirled around in Joe's head, his eyes darting from each of his son's faces. He inhaled deeply, then turned to face his wife with tired eyes. "Did they se—" He started, his voice cracking before he could even finish his question. But there was no need, Y/N knew him like the back of her hand, and she already knew what he was about to ask.

She shook her head, moving her hand from his chest to run through his blonde hair. "No, they were being noisy with all their toys when it happened. And I got them ready for bed right after." She explained, her eyes searching his for some sort of response. All he could do was nod, nibbling on his lip as she looked at the walls around them instead of his wife. "Why don't we go lay down, huh?"

They traveled down the hall to their bedroom hand in hand, the low chatter of their bedroom tv was the only noise they heard as they entered. The news reports dimly lit their bedroom, casting shadows on the walls as it bounced from frame to frame. Y/N didn't want to poke the bear just yet, so she decided to let Joe do his own thing while she freshened up before bed. Once she turned the faucet off, she heard a faint sniffle from their connected bedroom. She quickly wiped her hands on her sweats before exiting the bathroom.

She came out to find Joe standing in their tall mirror. He used his sleeve to wipe his nose, noticing that Y/N had came out of the bathroom. The television mentioned his name for what seemed like the millionth time that night, Joe's eyes snapped to the floor hearing it. Y/N gave a sympathetic frown, watching as he took a seat at the foot of their bed. She sat down next to him, placing a hand on his thigh.

"What did they say?" She asked, looking toward him but he was focused on the television in front of them. He brought his good arm up, rubbing his ear as he always did when he was upset. He could the frustration building up once more, he sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. "A torn ligament." He replied.

Y/N nodded her head, "I'm not gonna tell you you're gonna bounce back because I'm sure you've heard that plenty of times today." She began, "We both know you will. You'll just have another surgery to repair it."

"Another surgery." He repeated, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. He still hadn't faced her, feeling too defeated to look her in the eyes now.

"You'll play again." She assured him, her hand coming up to play with the hairs at the back of his neck. "I know you will." Joe sat with his shoulder's slumped, the loss of the game resting heavily on them.

"I know." He sighed, moving his gaze to stare at the floorboards now. Y/N felt as if nothing she would say could help him feel any better, so she chose to let the silence consume them once more. The low chatter of the television continued, it was beginning to annoy her with how many times they'd brought up Joe's injury. The game has been over for hours now, we get it. With that, she got up from her spot beside Joe and turned the television off completely. The sudden movement made Joe look up, from the ground, watching as his wife waddled back to her spot beside him.

The silence was broken by Joe this time, "I feel like I'm being dramatic." He spoke up, causing Y/N to turn to him with wide eyes. "Honey, you just faced a season ending injury — and you think you're being dramatic?" She asked him, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"I think you've got a hell of a good reason to be "dramatic"." She used her two fingers to quote the word, earning a very dry chuckle from her husband. She dropped her hands to her lap, cocking her head to the side as she looked at him in concern.

He wiped his nose with his sleeve again, forcing a smile and another chuckle before he spoke. "I just hate how long it takes to recover from these things. It's takes a lot of work." He confessed, making Y/N feel like their communication was finally working.

"Yeah, I get that." She began, "But you're strong and you're dedicated to this sport. It'll come so easily to you after your surgery." A small smile grew on his face, but he began to shake his head once more.

"It just really sucks." He said bluntly, "The only thing I'm good at, I can't even do again for ten more months." He huffed, his words spinning a wheel in Y/N's mind. Her lips turned into a frown as he talked down on himself.

"Don't talk like that, Joe." She said, "Football is not the only thing you're good at." Her wedding ring shined as she reached for his right cheek, turning his head to face her. "You're an amazing daddy and an amazing husband. A torn ligament isn't stopping that at all. Nothing is ever going to stop that, you hear me?" She searched his face for an answer, he closed his eyes for a moment as he began to feel them burning with tears.

Joe had always struggled to be vulnerable, but Y/N always found a way to make him crawl out of that shell. He couldn't thank her enough for that. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to, either. "I hear you." He responded, his voice cracking as he spoke. He bit his bottom lip, and nodded his head as he dropped his gaze to his fingers. A silence fell over them once again, but this time it was comfortable.

"We should really get to bed." Joe said, wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve as he stood up from the bed. Y/N's gaze followed him as he held out his hands for her, her eyes grazing over his new cast and sling. He followed her gaze and, in an embarrassed manner, dropped his left arm. She held on tight as she struggled to lift two people's body weight off the edge of the bed, her arms absentmindedly wrapping around Joe's neck. He exhaled a deep breath at her touch, and she let out a breath of relief due to all the moving she'd just done.

"We love you either way." She whispered, grabbing Joe's left hand and placing it on her round stomach. "All of us. We love you, and thats with or without football." Joe let the tears fall from his eyes, and let his hand rest in his wife's stomach as she moved her hand to wipe his falling tears.

He rubbed her stomach in a loving manner, his shoulders bouncing with each quiet sob that he choked out. "Yeah, I know." He barely got out the three words, Y/N kept wiping the tears and rubbing his arms up and down.

"You're strong and you will overcome this. You always recover in a way that shows how truly remarkable you are, Joe. That's never gonna change. No matter how large the obstacle." She grabbed a hold of both of his forearms lightly, being mindful of his injury, making him look her in the eyes. "You're capable of recovering from this set back. And you have nothing to prove to anybody except those boys in there — but they already know their daddy is strong."

"I love you." He said, closing his eyes with a sigh as she placed a loving kiss on his cheek. "I love you more, baby." She then placed a kiss on his lips, pulling him in for one more tight embrace before bed. He walked her to her side of the bed, helping her get under the sheets, before making his way to his side and climbing in right beside her.

Although he let a few more tears fall while lying down, he couldn't help but feel as if he was stronger already. She fell asleep before him, but continued to whisper affirmations and play with his blonde locks in her sleep. She held him to her chest, and his arms wrapped around her very large bump. He looked up at her in admiration, she never failed to amaze him with how patient she was.

[punkitt-is-here]

shoutouts to Joe from the middle of nowhere AAA that i had to call upon in a panic. dude had all the visuals of a rural young dude that might be apprehensive about a very obviously queer couple but he rocked. dude was still extremely chill about helping a transgender woman dressed in an outfit that looked like she owned a ranch for Skittles. some people dont trust the humble bright orange hoodie/slightly unkempt facial hair/baseball cap combo but i know dude's like Joe are always there and willing to jump your car even tho that's not part of your job contract

[thesquirrelqueer]

& Juliet 11/17/24 Notes

- romy!lady cap, joe!kempe, nicky!richard makai’s last principal francois show

- khailah never came out to do the backpack for IML

- reese made a funny noise as the bouncer after the line “i’m sorry ladies but it’s full”

- joe costumes: mostly just richard costumes but with long pants, SUBG is the richard KAG vest over a plain black t-shirt and pants, wedding is its own thing but with the richard wedding vest

- daniel costumes: LTL is normal, SMTM is the blue vest and white puffy shirt with a blue and orange striped corset and the LTL orange pants, blow is normal, KAG is what he had for SMTM but with the KAG vest instead of the SMTM one, SUBG is the usual top with the orange pants, wedding is normal

- khailah costumes: LTL has yellow mesh sleeves instead of white, SMTM is her normal dress but the blue is now slightly more teal, I don’t remember the rest

- alison now has green shoulder pieces added to the april vest

- gabe and daniel have somehow made the gregory/henry KAG moment gayer. they start far apart holding hands and daniel pulls gabe in very forcefully so they’re literally touching noses and daniel has his knee up slightly on gabe’s leg

- nicky has a blow crown now too

- maya accidentally saying “how can you put it: I put me on” instead of “how can I put it: you put me on”

- something about how paulo said “my boy” made me crack up because he said it in such a way where he was like “you are not my son + definitely too old to be a referred to as boy but let’s go with it”

- liam says “to challenge my parents and everyone’s expectations of me” instead of “to challenge my parents and everyone’s expectations”

[lboogie1906]

Congresswoman Valdez Venita Demings (Butler; March 12, 1957) is a politician and former police officer who served as the Representative from Florida’s 10th congressional district (2017-23). The district covers most of the western half of Orlando and includes much of the area around Orlando’s resort parks. It includes many of Orlando’s western suburbs, including Apopka and Winter Garden. She was chief of the Orlando Police Department (2007-11) its first female chief, capping a 27-year career with the department. She has been the first lady of Orange County, Florida, since December 4, 2018, when her husband Jerry Demings (1988) was sworn in as the mayor.

She was born in Jacksonville, Florida, one of seven children; her father worked as a janitor, and her mother as a maid. After graduating from college, she worked as a social worker in Jacksonville for 18 months. In 1983, she applied for a job with the Orlando Police Department, and she began with the department on patrol on Orlando’s west side.

She was appointed as chief of the OPD in December 2007, becoming the first woman to lead the department. She was credited with reducing violent crime in Orlando. She retired from the position effective June 1, 2011, after serving with the OPD for 27 years.

On January 15, 2020, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi selected her to serve as a House impeachment manager in the first Senate trial of President Donald Trump. In early August 2020, she was said to be one of the top contenders to be Joe Biden’s vice-presidential running mate in the 2020 Presidential Election. She was the Democratic nominee in the 2022 Senate election in Florida. She is a member of The Links and Delta Sigma Theta Sorority. She has three children. #africanhistory365 #Africanexcellence #deltasigmatheta #links #womenshistorymonth

[nicolewoo]

Super Earth Part 13 Heavy Winds

Pairing: Reader X Roman Reigns

Synopsis: Reader is a space pilot. Dr. Reigns is a scientist. They fell in love heading to TOI-1452 B

Part 13: Heavy Winds

I woke when the computer chirpped.

“Good morning colonists.” It was Becky. “Sorry to wake you all so early.” I looked to see it was 4 am. “Unfortunately, we have an all hands on deck situation. A category 7 hurricane is due to arrive in 36 hours. We have to move the colony. Please report to your hurricane protocol stations in the next hour.”

Roman groaned at the thought. Moving the entire colony was a huge endeavor, and as Becky had said, everyone was needed. I was secretly excited. Scared and excited. We’d all had to train for our hurricane stations. I was stationed with engineering for the start of the day and at the helm for the move. Roman had to secure his greenhouse then help build the protective walls.

Moving the entire colony was an engineering marvel, and one I didn’t think I’d get to see. Although there was danger, I was excited to see the whole process. We got ready quickly and headed to our stations. Roman was certainly more concerned than me, and he made me stop to kiss me and tell me he loved me before we parted.

As I suspected, all of the Explorers engineers were already in the Engineering/Maintenance building hard at work. Tilly b-lined her way to me. “Captain, Should I get on the com and remind our crew and passengers where they’re supposed to be?”

My brain was still not awake yet. “Um… No… we… uh… we trained plenty of times. Maybe just send out a message that if they need reminding to contact you?”

“Oh, that’s better. You ok?” She examined my face.

“I…. neeeeed… coooffffeeeee.” I teased.

“Aye Cap. Whatcha need?” I turned to see Joe Coffey behind me; which made all three of us laugh.

“I need the caffeinated kind, not the engineer kind.” I laughed. A few seconds later Trick Williams brought me a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“Y/N” Seth said as he entered the room. “Glad you’re here.” An alarm sounded on a computer station, drawing Seth’s attention away from me.

Orange ran to the station, reading the display, “Fuck! Grid 10 is down.”

“Ten?” Seth asked. He hit a button on the panel in front of him. “Finn? Add grid 10 to the list.”

“Gotcha!” the Irishman said curtly.

Seth focused on me again. “Are you POSITIVE you want to go out into this weather? It’s nasty out there. Wouldn’t you rather go on a normal run… after the hurricane?”

I was itching to get off the colony and see the ocean closer. It was never 100% safe, even in perfect weather. Now, with a hurricane on the way, the ocean churned violently, massive waves splashing over the 20 foot protective wall around and soaking the colony every few minutes. I knew going out today was dangerous. Probably the most dangerous thing I’d ever done, but it was a once in a lifetime chance to see under the colony. It was also a job that HAD to be done, and I never made my crew do anything I wouldn’t do.  

Under the colony were an array of thousands of propellers. On a normal day, there was no resistance to these propellers, allowing the ocean to turn them all the time. 60% of the colony’s electricity came from them. When a storm like this came through though, they functioned as a ship’s propellers. Ideally, this switch could be done from a control panel, but the process had not been perfected, and inevitably some propellers had to be switched by hand…. Under the colony.

“It needs to be done.” I answered.

Seth looked at me as if trying to find my fear. “Our people can do it You don’t have to. We have enough people.”

Tilly answered before I could. “She’s not going to change her mind. Cap’s a daredevil.”

“She gets off on shit like this.” Cassidy added.

“I do not!” I protested. “But I’m not going to put someone else in danger if I can do the job myself.”

Seth turned on the coms “Dexter, Cap’s coming with you.”

“Understood” came the answer. Dexter Loomis was a very quiet man who never talked unless he had to. “We’re leaving in 15 minutes.”

“Thanks” Seth answered. “She’ll be down soon.” I nodded my thanks to Seth. “WEAR THE TEATHER!” Seth yelled out as I exited.

Once on the ground, I took a deep breath. I had 15 minutes. It would barely be enough time, but I was going. I ran full speed to the greenhouse.

Roman barely had time to turn around and see me before I wrapped him in a hug. “I wish you’d reconsider doing this.” He said as he kissed my forehead.

“I can’t. You know why.” We’d had the conversation shortly after arriving at the colony. Roman had repeatedly asked me to send someone else if the colony needed to be moved. He’d begged me not to go this morning too, but he knew by now he wouldn’t change my mind.

“I know. That’s why I’m going with you.” I opened my mouth to protest, but his face stopped me. Roman didn’t put his foot down often, but when he did, there was no talking him out of it. Just as there was no talking me out of anything I set my mind to. I simply didn’t have time to have this argument again. and It wouldn’t do any good.

I sighed resigned to his decision. I kissed him gently and looked in his eyes before sprinting to the boat dock, Roman at my heels the whole time.

“We don’t need both of you.” Seth’s voice yelled over the sound of the roaring ocean.

I started to answer when Roman interjected. “I’m not leaving her side.” It was a command that Seth accepted immediately. I guess he knew what it was like to want to protect your partner.

“Let’s tether you together then.” Orange walked up to us with two harnesses, and we put them on.

“Boat’s full!” Dexter’s voice called over the storm. “Two people need to go to boat 3.” Two colonists raised their hands and Dexter nodded for them to go.

I barely had time to think as we boarded the boat and Orange tethered Roman and I together then tethered us to the boat, which was also tethered to the colony.

“Boat 2, ready.” Dexter shouted and the call was repeated by the crew still on the colony.

Boat 2 tethered

Boat 2 tether check

Check

Boat 2 prepare for launch

Boat 2 check

Before I could even think we were in the water. Massive waves rocked the boat, and Roman held my hand.

I thought the smell of the ocean was bad in the shower. Now it was overwhelming, and I gagged. A high pitched laugh caught my attention, and I looked up to see Finn Balor laughing. I might have been mad if he hadn’t handed me two oxygen masks that hooked up to our harnesses. I nodded my thanks and handed one to Roman. He attached mine, and I attached his.

“Better?” Finn yelled, and I gave him a grateful thumbs up. I could still smell the ocean, but the oxygen watered down the smell.

Boat 2 ready to approach

Boat 2 hold

We could barely hear the announcement made to the colony. Brace yourselves for the colony to be raised.

Before my very eyes, the entire colony started rising. Normally it sat a few feet off the top of the ocean, but the storm swell had caused the ocean to rise up. We couldn’t see underneath until the colony had been hoisted.

The huge metal columns under the colony creaked as they were forced to work, but slowly the entire colony lifted.

Finally, I got to see the propellers which hung under the colony. They weren’t very large, but there were thousands under the colony. 10,463 to be exact, each divided into grids.

40 foot long metal poles poked out from the underside of the colony; each with a propeller that was normally submerged in the water. They dripped now, the fowl smell of the ocean more prominent as they did. I tapped my mask and gave Finn a thumbs up as a thanks. By now, everyone in the boat had an oxygen mask on.

Finn, Damon, Dominick and McDonagh were rowing frantically trying to maneuver the boat under the colony despite the waves and wind. Roman and I were looking for paddles to help, but before we could find any, we were under the colony. It was a truly impressive feat given the conditions. Now that we were amid the propellers, our crew grabbed the metal columns and began to pull the boat to our destination; which was much faster than trying to row a boat through this weather.

Boat 2 is under the colony

Boat 2 proceed to grid 10

Roman and I grabbed columns and helped heave the boat to our destination.

Boat 2 proceeding to grid 10

Under the colony, so close to the ocean, with water dripping off the undersides of the colony…… the smell was putrid. I caught Roman gagging once. “Let’s just get it done” I said to calm him.

I was hoping under the colony would be calmer, but even surrounded by the tall columns, being under the colony was treacherous. The wind whipped harder down here, creating a giant wind tunnel. The boat was slammed against columns on all sides, making the risk of getting thrown into the ocean even worse.  It seemed like I got pushed into one of the metal columns every few seconds. I was going to be bruised for sure.

Boat 2 approaching grid 10

Great job boat 2. Turning settings to manual now

“Let’s get it done quickly everyone.” Finn yelled out, but I wasn’t sure the people on the other side of our boat could hear him over the sound of the storm and the violent water. It didn’t matter though. Everyone was already starting to work.

Finn removed his oxygen mask long enough to tell Roman his only job was to keep the people around us from falling in the water. His determined look and steady gaze said as much as his nod. I had dreaded bringing him on this trip, but now that we were here, feeling his hand on my harness was reassuring. He would keep me safe.

Grid 10 held 567 turbines. Each had the be manually changed to propel the colony. We stood in a big line, each of us handling a row of propellers before we stopped to pulled the boat to the next turbine.

Despite Roman’s steady hands, I slammed into a column hard, my head bouncing as it hit. Roman panicked and almost let go of the others. Hearing the bang of skull on metal, Finn turned to see what had happened. He reached behind my head, pressing his fingers into my hair. When he removed his hand, I saw red on his fingers. He didn’t panic. Instead, he motioned to the others in the boat who all sat down and tried to hold the boat steady while Finn grabbed a first aid kit. He spread a salve roughly over a large bandage and applied it to my skull, using the gas mask to keep it in place. Finn looked at me now, holding up a tentative thumbs up to ask if I was ok. I nodded yes and reached to move the boat to our next destination. Everyone stood and joined in; Roman’s hand on everyone’s tethers to keep them safe.

I heard the bang of metal on metal and turned to see another boat working on a grid to our stern. I couldn’t recognize everyone, but I did notice Dexter and Trick in the boat. He noticed our boat and pointed to my head with one hand while he helped pull the boat with his second hand. I nodded that I was ok.  

90 minutes later, we were done, cheering at our success even though we still needed to get back to the colony before we could be considered safe. I had been thrown into more columns than I wanted to admit, and now that the work was done, the pain started seeping into my bones. Roman by my side had been a game changer. He never took his hand off me unless someone else needed saving. He’d saved Finn from falling in twice.

“Great job everyone.” Finn called out and motioned toward the other boat. A few minutes and one bruised arm later, we arrived at Boat 3. Loomis pointed to a corner of the grid and we started there. It was just a few minutes later that we were done. We pulled our way out from under the colony, and the colonists tied the boats together for more stability.

Loomis took off his mask and pointed at me. “Sit down. We don’t need you to paddle.” Even if I had been needed, I wasn’t sure I could paddle. My head must be hurt more than I thought, because I was getting dizzy and nauseous. I took his advice and sat. Roman handed me the tethers and took an oar someone offered him.

By the time we were back on the colony, I couldn’t stand. Finn helped Roman carry me off the boat. Dr. Thorpe was waiting for me. “Cap, What am I going to do with you?” He inspected my head. “Yup. Almost the exact same place as your last concussion.” He finished and pointed Roman to the medical building.

Seeing me being carried to the medical building was enough to stop everyone from their hurricane preparations. I saw everyone talking. “Oh shit.” I said under my breath.

“Nothing to worry about! She’s got a concussion. She’ll be fine.” Thorpe yelled out, then looked at me. “That should stop them from gossiping.”

“Captain!” Dr. Keith Lee said as we entered. “What happened?”

Roman laid me down on a table. “She got thrown against a column.”

“Probably another concussion.” Dr. Thorpe said. “It’s not her first. Not even the first on this trip.”

Dr. Lee nodded curtly. “Let’s get you into the scanner and see what we can do.”

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl @pitlissa22 @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen @sassginaswanmills

[orangutanarchivist]

The Los Gatos mail-news, 7 October 1897

An orang-utan which rejoices in the name of Joe and is as docile and affectionate as any of the more ordinary domesticated pets, was lately on exhibition in Philadelphia. It chanced that on the very day on which a member of the Inquirer’s staff paid Joe a visit, Joe's master. Mr. Forster, presented his favorite with a Waterbury watch. The new plaything was handed to the animal without a word and Joe set his wits at work upon it. First he looked it over carefully; then he began to pound the arm of his chair with it in the laudable attempt to find out its properties by direct experiment. "Stop Joe! That is not intended to be used as a hammer," said Mr Forster in a stern voice. The experimenter paused, considered a moment, and then laid the watch on the floor But the gift was of no value to Joe unless he could find out how to use it. After further consideration he picked it up and put it in his mouth. "Hold on old fellow! It was not made to be eaten” said his master. Thereupon Joe took the watch from his mouth, hesitated, and came to a decision. He handed the watch back to the giver. Mr. Forster turned the cap once or twice, partially winding it and then put it into his vest pocket. These acts he from time to time repeated, and ended by giving the watch back to Joe. The animal was no longer at a loss. His watch was of some use to him now. He took it, twisted the cap round gravely, and then dropped the watch into the pocket of his blue sweater. At this time Joe was preparing to start for New Orleans with his master —literally preparing, for already he had himself packed his wardrobe in a new yellow leather dress-suit case. He was a very well-dressed animal for he wore a dark-blue overcoat, set off by brass buttons, and he is an exceedingly accomplished one. He can play on the violin, as well as pack up his belongings and he appears to understand the English language fairly well. He will do almost anything he is told to do. When he has done wrong he comes and purses up his lower lip, whimpering like a child. But when his master says "Joe, kiss, and I’ll forgive you," he puts up his face and seems as happy as a child that has escaped a scolding. Joe is not renowned for his bravery. He is terribly afraid of dogs and is in mortal terror of small monkeys. When frightened he utters little cooing cries. Joe is four years old and is as large as a child of seven.

[averagejoesolomon]

It's here! I really am sorry about this series of events, but I think you know where I'm going with it, and I think you know it's worth it. We do have to beat up the boy to get there, though. Buckle up! And if you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3.

Chapter Nine

This bag is a Hell of a lot heavier than it ought to be.

The strap is worn to a dull and oily black, cutting into the space where Matt’s shoulder meets his neck. His clothes rustle against the leather with each step. A voice in his head—Rachel’s, no doubt—keeps telling him this is a bad idea. She’s right, of course, even when she’s only hypothetical. But the Circle of Cavan doesn’t leave him with many options. It doesn’t leave anyone with options. That’s sort of the whole point.

His plan, if he can actually call it a plan, is still only three-quarters formed, with the final quarter dependent on how this early morning rendezvous turns out. With any luck, he walks away with a little more knowledge about the Circle, and the Circle walks away with a little less knowledge about Rachel Cameron. It’s risky business, considering the Circle don’t seem likely to appreciate a two-for-one sale, especially not when they’re on the one side. But he trusts Joe, and Joe trusts Catherine, and Matt’s just going to have to trust that this will all work out one way or another.

So he holds the bag close to his side, fighting off the mist of the morning. It’s hard to tell if this spray is coming off the white-capped river or if they’re on the front end of an oncoming storm, but either option leaves a chill along his skin. He finds himself wishing for the rubber rain gear of the surrounding workers—not only to take cover from the mist, but also to take cover from their attention. His dark cotton clothes and tennis shoes stand out among yellow and orange coveralls, jackets, boots, and hard hats. Finer agents than him have been killed for less in Moscow.

Townsend, at least, has managed to snag a reflective neon vest. He does a decent job of adopting the sluggish, heavy look of a dockman who’s already well into his shift before sunrise. Still, something in his stance gives him away. There’s an eagerness to him that none of the other workers share, the culmination of an eighteen-month hunt finally reaching its end. “Stick with me,” he tells Matt. “I’ve studied this river and its docks for months.”

Matt knows the Moskva shoreline like he knows the crick that cuts through his mama’s berry bushes, but he lets Townsend take the lead. Sometimes a fella’s got to follow a pest to find its den, and Matt wants to pin down exactly what Townsend knows and how he knows it.

Thankfully, Townsend is all too eager to prove he knows everything. “Be mindful, this girl is tricky,” he goes on. “But she’ll run out of moves someday, and my gut says it's today.”

In the distance, a flash of lightning sparks through the early morning clouds. It takes a handful of seconds for the thunder to rumble in behind, weak, gravelly, and barely audible above the river’s edge lapping against the break wall. “You’ve come up against her before, I take it?”

“Not directly, no, but I caught wind of her while I was working an arms deal in Venezuela,” Townsend confirms. “Didn’t take long to learn that she was on the side of the dealer, though she did put up a decent act for some time.”

An actress. That’s good to know. Matt’s met plenty throughout his time in the field—women, usually, who take advantage of that inadvertent blind spot his mama gave him by spending all those years teaching him to be a model gentleman. His time spent with the Cameron sisters has knocked loose a lot of his notions of damsels and their tendency for distress, but sometimes a very good agent can still play him for the chivalrous fool. He makes a mental note to keep his guard up around Catherine. “Sounds awfully lucky,” he probes, “to stumble into a mission like that, right off the bat.”

Matt leaves out the part where he and Joe were also recruited young—the exact same age as Townsend, at least in Matt’s case—for an op that was just as grinding, just as involved. Potentially the exact same op, if Matt’s gut is right. “Luck,” Townsend scoffs, not just at the word, but at the entire notion. “I spent over three-hundred hours preparing for that op, and spotted the connection to another op that was seemingly unrelated. It wasn’t luck. It was patience, and research, and damn good reconnaissance.”

Townsend ain’t actually that much younger than Matt, but the few years between them rattle like rocks in the heel of Matt’s soaked-through shoe. It’s the same distance Matt sits from Joe, just in the opposite direction, but Matt’s convinced he never looked or acted quite so twenty-two-ish—though maybe there’s something redeemable about his youthful bluntness. In a business full of second, third, and fourth meanings, it’s nice to know where a guy stands.

Matt can’t guarantee he’ll return the favor. “Sure,” he allows. “You’ve gotta excuse me. Spend enough time in the Soviet Union and you get to be a cynic about things like that.”

“Things like luck?”

Another round of lightning, and the thunder rolls in faster than before. “Luck,” Matt replies. Then, with a shrug. “Coincidences. Anything of the sort.”

Young or not, Townsend’s a smart enough agent to know there’s no such thing, and his answering sneer proves it. Maybe that’s why he changes the subject. “So you’re in this part of the world often, then?”

Or maybe Matt’s not the only one trying to get information. “Often enough.” Townsend clocks the non-answer immediately, but Matt doesn’t give him time to jump in. “But more and more it feels like my own personal game of Russian Roulette—the more shots I take by crossing the border, the closer I get to taking a bullet to the head.”

The rain picks up and Townsend takes cover beneath a steel overhang. It lands them on the wrong side of a door with more warning labels than Matt cares to count, tucked among worn life jackets, yellowed netting, and a rusting, barnacle-lined anchor. “This is your bread and butter, then,” he concludes. “All this business with stolen identities. High-stakes trades. Evenings at the Bolshoi.”

“More so lately,” Matt confesses. “Probably don’t have to tell you that the atmosphere in Moscow is changing.”

“Certainly not,” Townsend answers, in the manner of someone who very much hopes Matt understands just how knowledgeable he is. “I am curious, though, about these passports.”

Matt’s attention once again falls to the bag on his own shoulder, nearly a dozen passports tucked tight against the weight of his own conscience. They sit at the center of the morning, just like they’ve been at the center of every afternoon, evening, and night spent in Moscow. At the center of this entire op. Except, at their core, there’s nothing especially interesting about them. Rachel has already confirmed their authenticity back at the safe house—ten passports, ten identities, ten agents who get to go home safely. If Townsend is curious about them, it’s because he thinks there’s something interesting about their acquisition, rather than their actual, physical form. “Ask the question you really want to ask, Townsend.”

Matt spots the first wave of hesitance on Townsend since the Bolshoi. “Only that I heard the two of you talking,” he admits. “On the balcony, before I jumped into the thick of it. She said the two of you were on the same side.”

Small ringlets start to pound into the surrounding puddles, one raindrop at a time. Townsend’s words take Matt back to Baltimore—not with the girls, but with Henry Cameron himself. Standing in his office. Throwing accusations his way. Matt knows firsthand what it feels like to finally find a Circle lead after so long without, which is why he doesn’t take it personally when Townsend casts suspicion upon him. Only now does Matt realize Henry probably felt the same, all those months ago.

So he channels one of Henry’s tight-lipped smiles, and reassures Townsend as best he can. “I don’t know what she meant by that.”

“It’s no use lying to me.” Townsend says. “I will find out, you know.”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” says Matt, and it’s true. He even puts his hand on Townsend’s rain-soaked shoulder to really drive it home. “But I really don’t know what she meant by that. Honest.”

Townsend doesn’t want to trust him. Matt gets the feeling Townsend doesn’t make a habit of trusting anyone. But Matt’s an earnest sort of guy, which almost always works in his favor. Nine times out of ten, he can convince anyone to believe his worst lies, and he’s got a one-hundred-percent conversion rate when it comes to telling the truth. And he is, at least for now, even if he can’t guarantee things will stay that way.

“Very well,” Townsend relents. “I don’t typically do this, but I get the sense that you have information I could use. I also get the sense—largely because you’re not very good at covert phone calls, by the way—that you would like to, shall we say, bring Catherine’s dealings to an end?”

“Get to it, Townsend.”

“Whatever information you have,” Townsend promises, “I assure you, I can make good use out of it. But you’ll have to tell me what it is first.”

The way he says it, Matt realizes that this tactic actually works for him. Townsend projects enough confidence and assurance that any asset would feel lucky to find him. Thank god, they must say, that someone who knows what they’re doing has finally arrived.

But Matt has been chasing the Circle of Cavan for years—long enough to know that Townsend, no matter how confident, no matter how knowledgeable, no matter how great a spy, cannot bring them down on his own. So he takes another page out of Henry Cameron’s book and extends a helping hand instead.

“I can’t tell you what I know. And if you’re chasing the same people I’m chasing, you’ll understand why.” Matt meets his eyes, waiting for some unspoken confirmation. It doesn’t come, and Matt realizes that not even a know-it-all like Townsend will cop to knowing about the Circle. “But I can tell you I’ve been chasing them for a long time—a lot longer than eighteen months—and it has been dead end, after dead end, after dead end. Usually literally.”

Townsend doesn’t look nearly as scared as he should. But then again, neither did Matt, when he was twenty-two. Instead, Townsend just studies him as though he’s a book to be read, annotated, and tested on at a future date. “Why is this one different?” he finally asks. “Why Catherine?”

It’s a good question, and Matt can only answer with the truth. “She’s the only one they haven’t killed yet, for starters.”

Matt’s not sure how he expects Townsend to respond, but it certainly ain’t with, “I’ve noticed that too.”

Another distant rumble of thunder. “Sorry?”

“That they haven’t killed her,” Townsend clarifies. “They don’t seem to hesitate before killing anyone else, do they? Why her? Why keep this one asset alive, when CIA and MI6 have already identified her?”

Matt has been chasing the Circle of Cavan since Townsend was still in high school, but in all that time, he never once thought to ask the question Townsend asks now. Matt’s first instinct is Joe—of course it’s Joe, because Joe’s been in contact with Catherine for years, and he’s the kind of guy who takes care of his own. But Joe didn’t know about her Moscow op, and there’s no telling what else he doesn’t know. There’s something else at play. Maybe even someone.

Thankfully, Townsend’s got that look on his face again. The one that says he can’t wait to prove how superior his intel is. “I’ll bite,” says Matt. “What’s your theory?”

There’s a clear glee in Townsend’s posture, even if he tries to hide it behind a serious nature. In an effort to look nonchalant, he kicks at the rusted chain connected to the nearby anchor. “We don’t have a lot of insight into this particular group at the agency level,” he begins, straightening the chain into a loose line with his oxfords. “But we do know that groups like this one operate using a chain of command structure, so we can surmise that this group does the same.”

The patter of nearby raindrops grows louder, more urgent, but Townsend stays fully focused as he continues. “They’re very rigid structures, and it’s generally considered a faux pas to jump from one point in the chain”—he points the toe of his shoe to the chain’s loose end, then points five rungs up—“to many points above.”

“Sure,” Matt agrees, following so far. “A fella wouldn’t go over a lieutenant's head to get to the captain.”

“Ah, an Army man,” says Townsend, pleased. “Precisely. And in more dysfunctional organizations, that chain of command can be even more rigid. We’ve seen groups with agents only connected by two links—one individual above them to give orders, and one individual below to receive orders.”

“What’s the benefit of something like that?”

“Sometimes it’s simply a matter of an organization’s size,” Townsend admits with a youthful shrug that doesn’t suit his adult-ish persona. “But on rare occasions, this tactic is employed to slow the dissemination of information, or to limit different segments of information to certain individuals—an appealing practice to folks in our line of work. The result is a series of tightly-controlled intelligence cells in which everyone knows everything and, simultaneously, no one knows anything of note.”

It’s another version of the same thing Joe and Henry have been telling him for years. No one knows who works for the Circle. Not even the Circle themselves. It’s what makes them so effective at infiltration. It’s also what makes them so hard to track down. If Townsend has managed to piece this much together on his own, there’s no telling what he could do with a little backup.

Matt keeps scoping the kid’s knowledge. “And where does Catherine fit into this chain?”

Townsend looks like he’s citing his ABCs or solving basic addition. This type of high-level thinking comes so naturally to him. It almost reminds Matt of Rachel. “If one agent were to break away from their chain and, perhaps, join another,” he says, kicking a bent and discarded steel loop into view, “that individual may have enough information to spot a larger picture. And if that same individual were to break away and rejoin many chains, over and over again, they may begin to understand the inner workings of that organization. Perhaps they may even understand too much, in which case, the obvious response is to kill them. Unless…”

Matt fills in the blank. “Unless they’ve become too valuable to kill.”

Townsend smiles, delighted that Matt can keep up with him. “Our dear Catherine has learned something about this organization that is keeping her alive,” he grins. “I don’t know about you, but I would very much like to find out what that is. If it’s valuable enough for them, it is valuable enough for me.”

And, Matt thinks, it’s valuable enough for Joe.

By the end of their conversation, Townsend practically yells to stay heard above the storm. The downpour comes on suddenly, rain rushing in at an angle and skipping across the concrete platform in violent waves. Lightning and thunder share the same second. The river roars. Most of the crew have taken shelter, waiting for the worst to pass, and the resulting emptiness might be how Matt spots the lone figure looking on.

Small, and soaked, with bright red hair.

She keeps her distance, but Matt can still see her features sour at the sight of him. Or, more specifically, at the sight of Townsend, who Matt realizes too late shouldn’t be here. Of course he shouldn’t be here. Of course she would recognize the man who’s been following her across the world. Of course she would expect Matt to be alone.

He holds out a pleading hand to her. “Catherine,” he says, “just wait.”

Her eyes flit between Matt and Townsend. Matt and Townsend. Matt.

And then she runs.

Matt lets out a very overt groan as he takes off after her, throwing a halting wave back toward Townsend. “Stay there,” he growls. “Do not come after us.”

“But—”

“Stay here, Townsend.”

It is maybe Matt’s greatest curse in life, to be surrounded by quick and practiced runners when he himself can barely hold down a fifteen-minute pace. Matt is slow, and his body is broad, and his feet are heavy. He can either run, or breathe, but not both. Never both. 

Joe has tried like Hell to speed Matt up, but in truth, Joe started running circles around him in Basic, and he’s been doing the same every day since. Joe Solomon is a runner in every sense of the word, as quick as Matt is strong, and never is it more clear than in moments like this. Usually, it’s Joe who runs after a skittish agent, and Matt just pins them down once he catches up. But Joe’s not here and Matt’s going to have to put his own pace to the test.

The concrete is slick, which doesn’t work in his favor. It’s clear in the way she moves that Catherine was born into a natural grace—and made clearer with each container she clears and each pipe she swings through. Between the rain and the dark, he barely keeps eyes on her, relying on the orange glow from shipyard streetlights to spot glimpses of her shadow. He’s losing her. He’s not going to make it on speed alone.

So he changes tactics and goes wide. Wide enough to lose her behind massive shipping containers. Wide enough to squeeze through a corridor with no visibility. Wide enough to meet her at the other end, with the water at her back. Wide enough to corner her between him and the Moskva River.

She’s shaking when she spots him, eyes wide and breath heaving. Matt tells himself it’s because of the rain. “Catherine,” he huffs, catching his own breath. “You have to—”

“Him?” she screams. “You’re working with him? Was this all a trap?”

“What?” says Matt, but his breath doesn’t allow for more than one word at a time. “No—”

“Was Joe in on it too?”

“There’s nothing,” he says, “to be in on.”

Matt’s an earnest kind of guy, but all of his earnestness is wrapped up in his lack of air, tangled and flopping like fish out of water. Catherine doesn’t buy any of it. “Let me go, Matt,” she says. “You have to let me—”

“No.” Most of his sharp reply is born of breathlessness, but the frustration sneaks in without warning. “You say you’re on my side? Prove it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re running.”

“You tricked me.”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but he doesn’t have the stamina to keep arguing. “Look.”

He pulls the leather bag from his shoulder, grabbing it by the strap and holding it toward her. She eyes it with a suspicious want. “Is that…?”

“The passports,” Matt confirms. “All of them. Take these, and you can walk away from this op like nothing went wrong in Moscow.”

She inches closer, and Matt’s pretty sure it’s subconscious. One step at a time, eyes locked on the leather bag, she approaches him with an abundance of caution. Matt gets the feeling she approaches everything with that same demeanor.

When she reaches out to grab the bag, Matt snatches it back. “One condition.”

Catherine blinks, not giving away a single thought.

“If I give you these passports,” he says, “you forget everything you saw in the city. You forget me. You forget Townsend. You forget my partners at the Bolshoi.”

Catherine sneers. “Then tell your girl to stop coming after us.”

His girl. Rachel. “She’s not coming after you.”

“Oh please—”

“She’s not,” Matt insists. “She’s coming after me. She’s coming after me, understand?”

Matt searches her eyes, hoping to find a scrap of mercy, sympathy, understanding, something. But he doesn’t spot it. All he sees is the same look he’s seen in all of his informants, right before their body washes up on the coastline—an agent in too deep, with a dangerous desire for self-preservation.

“Catherine,” he pleads. “Let me handle her. You handle the rest, but let me handle her.”

The end of Matt’s plan starts to form and, for a flickering moment, he sees everything go as it should. He sees Catherine take the passports. Sees her hand them off to whoever sits above her in the chain of command. Sees Joe spot the trade from his place within the Circle, sees the two of them chasing this new lead, sees Rachel safe and sound in Baltimore with her sister. 

But when Catherine actually grabs the bag and lifts open the flap, Matt realizes that the bag had felt too heavy all morning. He realizes that verifying the passports before a mission is the type of detail he would usually count on Rachel to prepare, and he realizes that instead of trading identities, he’s trading soggy notebooks and blank pages. Because of course Rachel didn’t leave ten passports hanging unattended on the back of the bedroom door. Of course it was a decoy.

Catherine doesn’t know any of this, which is why she says, “It was a trap.”

And Townsend’s timing really is impeccable, when he rounds the corner with his pistol in position and screams, “Put your hands up!”

It’s the perfect storm, literally, and Matt’s finally soaked through. Catherine is quick and graceful compared to his clumsy, breathless shuffle, so it’s easy for her to grab at his wet shirt and swing him toward the very edge he used to trap her in place.

Catherine runs. Matt falls. A flash of lightning cracks skyward.

Just when Matt thinks it's impossible to be any more soaked, he hits the Moskva. The impact knocks any remaining breath from his chest and the chill steals away his screams. In the gray river, below gray skies, he loses his direction and can’t find his way to the surface. Even if he could, the current would surely drag him under and away. Under and away. Under and away. The river fades from gray to black, and he’s not in his mama’s crick any longer.

He’s not sure how long it takes for someone to drag him out of the water. Even when they do, his teeth keep chattering, and his body keeps shaking, and he’s pretty sure his lips are blue. He feels heavy, heavy, heavy, as slim hands carry him by the collar. He blinks upward to see a head of red hair, dragging him uphill through the mud. The sky, like the river, fades from gray to black.

The next time he comes to, everything is red, red, red.

Hail Mary. 

Full of grace. 

The Lord is with thee.

[eating-the-inedible]

Here is a list of the inedibles that will be in this bracket

Lava

Orbeez

Orange Joe (fictional "beverage" that's a combination of orange juice and coffee)

Doll shoes

Dirt

Pen caps

Mercury

Watermelon tourmaline

Comet/scouring powder

Moss

Paper towels

Play-Doh

Drywall

Marbles

CD

DVD

Dice

Kinetic Sand

Coins 

Fiberglass insulation

3DS Stylus

Plastic Bottle Cap

Chapstick

Babybell Cheese Wax

Paper

Bouncy ball

Human meat

Venus (planet)

Cascade dishwasher pods

Acrylic Paint

Magnets

Molten glass

Pens

Sea glass

Silica gel packet

Leaves

Cocoa butter lotion

Antifreeze

Pencil Toppers, the lil eraser things

Sand

Tumbled amethyst

Rubber Ducks

The rubber balls from the game Cranium Cariboo

Polly pocket clothes

Poison Dart Frog

Snow

0.1 uF Film Capacitor

The sun

Metal

Eraser

Tide pods

Phone charger wire

Those free wooden pencils you get at ikea (just the wood shell not the lead)

Liquid nitrogen

Aquarium gravel

the weird science juice in the beakers in those stock images

Origami star

Styrofoam cup

Sticky note

Collar of shirt

This submission form

Plastic straws

Glow sticks

Oil paintings

Candle wax

Glass

Nickel sulfate solution/Nickel plating solution

Silicone wristbands

Seatbelt

The wax paper under your Poutine

Forearm (doesn't have to be one's own)

Asbestos

Candy wrapper

“Okay so technically this is edible but I’ve had urges to just take a huge bite out of certain sea creatures before. Like just a chunk from an orca or dolphin or great white or seal, etc.”

“Those stupid wooden spoons”

Furbies

Scotch tape

Artificial grapes (the wax/plastic ones for display)

phone

THE FLESH OF MY ENEMIES

Crystals

Fire

The goo inside  Stretch Armstrong

Headphone wire

Raw steak

Art

Small colorful rubber bands 

Tinfoil

Pencil lead

Cattails (the plant)

Foamy soap

Liquid soap

Bar soap

Flourite

Shiny rocks

Grass

A hunk of random fish swimming by

A live goldfish

Toothpaste

Styrofoam

Price Tag Fasteners

The moon

Pool noodles

Smol frog

Destroying angel mushroom

the smoke coming out of the grain refineries two Mike's out of Gary, Indiana, Usa

Popsicle sticks

Cardboard

My hat

The tiny rocks in school playgrounds

Gasoline

Blue laundry detergent

Spray foam insulation

Battery corrosion

Fiber optic cables

Packing peanuts

Your mother

Pond water

Dry ice

Alkali metals

Chocolate shampoo

Ping pong ball

Bricks, like the stuff you'd build with. Minecraft bricks even, if you want

Hoodie drawstrings

Horse treats

Chalk

Copper (II) Sulphate Water / Blue Science Rock + Blue Science Juice

Ink

Floam

Fabric Paint

Oil paint

that one art piece of the banana taped to the wall

the hotdog somebody encased in resin

“the thin lego plates not the base plates but like the lego piece thats like 2x8 and they kinda look like hershey chocolate bar pieces”

One of those little hamsters

Model magic

Battery Acid (the drink)

manchineel apple

Rubber band ball

The lava lamp liquid

Blood

Rosin

Wax apples

That cake decoration that came with your slice and you're like 90% sure it's not edible... but what if ?

Soap bubble

Lush cosmetics' products

Plushies

Strawberry Shortcake's dolls with scented hair

Wood

Glue

Salt lamp

People who think children are not worth their consideration

Tarmac

Shampoo

Pennies

Poisonous berries

Chunky soft yarn

Crayons 

Rock

“whatever the Chuck E Cheese Ticket Muncher Machine is eating (it's not the tickets) (or the sound itself but that's neither a solid nor a liquid so this is just kind of holding hands with the hypothetical ticket muncher food)”

Snow globe liquid

Chisel tip whiteboard marker

Raw dough

Raw fuckin cactus. alive

Grape agate

Car seat

Succulents

Keys

Lock pick

Scrub daddy

Molten sugar 

Allergens

Lightning bolts

“Bark dust. Like the dirt/bark dust that's under the bark chips on a playground. Not the chips themselves. The dust.”

Clear deodorant

Apple earbud wires

Eggshells

Squinkies

Hello kitty sweatshirt zipper

Preshredded mozzarella cheese

Scrap metal

Rose

All of the rocks at a crystal shop

Origami polyhedron model

Bubbles mixture

Cupcake liners

Hair gel

Curtain rods

Incense sticks

Incense cones

Metal thing that attaches eraser to pencil

Windshield wiper fluid

Plastic pencil grips

Wooden ice cream spoon

Book

Tree

The liquid in levels

Vanilla extract

Aroace flag

Coil incense

California state testing “next question” button

Spackle

Forbidden coal iron french fries

Garage doors that look like chocolate bars

Plastic takeout box

Velvet

Weird anime girl hair

Freezable gel ice pack

Clouds

Necklace chains

Nail polish

Pencil Shavings

Pool floats

Bao Dumpling

Spray deodorant

0.1 uF Ceramic Capacitor

Vanillish (Pokémon)

Fondant

Really fancy pillars

Computers

Favorite song

Tumblr

“THE LITTLE ORBS IN THE MOUSE (aka trackballs)”

“Any cutesy anime character like Chopper or Pikachu”

Wooden fan blades

Balsa wood sticks

Those blankets that look like tortillas

Microwave

Milk and golden honey softsoap

Batteries

1x2 lego pieces

Light bulbs

Slightly melted lounge chair

Cork (the material)

Pineapple coke

Fingernails 

Sparkly lipgloss

Race Car Tire Marble

Gold trophies

Konjac sponge

Shirt

Mandy the Slayer / Orange Spyderco Dragonfly Knife

Malachite

Heater

Glasses Temples

Typewriter keys

EVA foam

Airplane

Sword

Crumbs in the couch

Children

My wife's arm/shoulder

Records

Yellow ACE bandages

Neon Signs

Scented candles

[woodchipp]

heard about this OMORI Collector Edition through the grapevine and decided to read up on it myself. the fact that the devs are asking $84 for what is essentially an unrevised first draft of a game aside, some of the included "keepsakes and mementos from Faraway Town" are ridiculous

Ephemera from Faraway Town is stored inside this button-and-string-fastened envelope, drawn on by Hero.

Literally why would Hero need to draw an entire map for Sunny just so that the latter could buy milk? Does Sunny not know the layout of his own hometown? I mean, yeah, the player can get lost very easily since the town itself looks basic as shit lmao. but Sunny shouldn't

A self-portrait by Mari.

No, that's just one of Omocat's recent drawings made to look like it is handdrawn. The fact that this is a "self-portrait" implies that Mari was just so perfect and awesomesauce that she was a good artist as well.

An Orange Joe bottle-cap magnet.

You will never be The Ellie Badge.

A receipt documenting the purchase of one Pet Rock and one CD.

One of the "mementos and keepsakes" you get by paying 84 dollars for this is a fucking supermarket receipt. you can't make this shit up

A ticket to Sunny and Mari’s recital.

1) The fact that Sunny and Mari's recital was meant to be hosted at the town's church would've made the reason it appears as Black Space's final location a bit more understandable, but said fact was never brought up (or even remotely hinted at) in the game proper

2) The recital couldn't have possibly happened at any point in the 2000s. lol and lmao

tfw your game's so Peak you can't even keep track of the lore you have established

[riacte]

rria . ria dont convert the timestamp of receiving this ask to est but i finished false episodes and i get it i understand the devotion and the homies and the protectiveness hoyljjy fuck save me 🦅🐕save me. beware of dog reapers watch out rendogss about false false false you won💥💥💥😺💥💥💥💥💥💥

RIGHT. THEY ARE SO SWEET IT MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE.

When I was watching the first part I was like ohhh she sounds SO soggy when he’s not talking to her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this soggy. And then it was slowly building and oh we’re really in it now.

BUT THE REUNION SCENE IS SO!!!!!! They’re so happy for each other 😭😭😭 False saying he deserves the win even though it’s her who won 😭😭 Ren coming in like YOU WON!! YOU WON!! :DDDDD

And I was already screaming and dying. But you can really tell how fond they are of each other. And False being more excited for the cool hat than the Demise prize and he literally promised to give it to her tomorrow when things had calmed down— and she won!! All the dots are connected.

And the end. MAN. “Watch out, Rendog is about” in all caps. Her putting his name and head on her build. And the giggle before the cut. And I’m left sitting here like OKAY THAT JUST HAPPENED. WOW.

I feel slightly insane because it’s like …??? It’s so obvious how core and special their friendship is to both of their contents on HC. Take a quick scroll through their thumbnails and they pop up every now and then. All the collabs. AND STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER IN GROUP RECORDINGS (this always happens). We even have major standout events like Blue9 and BRR and S6 neighbours. And now Demise because DUDE. THAT WAS CRAZY.

And still Tumblr (and both of their Twitch chats) seems to be the only site in which people majorly care about their bond? Does that make sense. Tumblrinas screaming and crying and filling up the main tags. Actually Twitch chat is the mvp here because I feel like every single stream of theirs has a mention of the other and chat is like :DDD we love you and the other person :DD. They’re invisible on blue bird site and THANK GOD and STAY AWAY. Orange app is a bit better bc at least the Mc Championship guys recognise them but you know when there was a post back in HC Reddit then asking for “underrated” duos and we had to post FalseRen because other people weren’t. Are they underrated? Do other people think they’re popular. Like Ren isn’t usually paired with False in fanon but I think most people have the awareness to include bits about their friendship? But still? I would’ve expected more… why aren’t they more popular like some other duos even after the five million obvious / dramatic / cute / wholesome stuff 😭 Ren’s favouritism gets worse every time I check in 😭

(I know. It’s because fandoms tend to like same gender pairs. But it does notttt explain why everyone happily pairs up Stress+Iskall and Joe+Cleo and it’s all recognised and these two are like …? oh yeah they’re friends. Right. They’re friends.)

Anyways this got long. That vid makes me soooo happy and it’s sooo good. I know Ren is probably going to make his next ep thumbnail his really cute hut but if False is also on there or it’s titled after something like “WE DID IT FALSE” I would further explode into millions of pieces. 🥺

[dailysarachidouin]

Maybe Sara with a different hair style or copying someone else’s hair

DAY 37: HAIR SAGA!!

[ID: Three colored drawings featuring Sara Chidouin from Your Turn To Die and one of her friends.

The first one is Joe and Sara standing in front of a mirror. Sara's hair is styled to look like his. They both have freckles, and Sara has violet and orange eyes. Joe is wearing a yellow t-shirt, and Sara is wearing a pink one. Joe asks: "so!! what do ya think of it?". Sara replies: "...i look stupid." The background is a light brown.

The second drawing is of Sara and Anzu, with Anzu styling and dyeing Sara's hair to look like hers. Sara is wearing a purple short-sleeved turtleneck with designs of clouds and stars scattered all over. Over it, she wears light pink overalls. Anzu has her hair tied up, and wears a yellow sweater with her hood, and pink pants. The background is a light pink.

The third drawing is of Sara and Ranmaru. Sara has her hair down and is wearing a white colored shirt with a brown dress skirt, with straps wrapping over her shoulders. She also wears a black and red bowtie. Ranmaru is wearing a blue, short-sleeved sweater over a light purple shirt, which also covers white bandages underneath his clothes. He fluffs up his hair a little, explaining; "okay so like. you have to just. puff it out". Sara looks visibly confused. The background is a light blue.

In the right corner, in all caps, it reads; "Sara's Hair Saga!". The background is yellow. All the drawings have the artist's signature, "Tachi!", written somewhere near it. End ID.]

[laminy]

Gwil fans himself, trying to cool down. “Do we really need the fire going, lads?” 

“It is getting toasty in here,” Joe says.

“I’m being roasted alive,” Gwil says, and he pushes his sleeves up. “What about you, Sami?” he asks.

Sami throws his arms up. “You’re warm.” He wiggles next to Gwil, and then grabs onto his arm. “I wanna look.”

“Sami,” Rami says, and Sami looks over at him, before he understands.

“Can I touch your arm?” Sami asks Gwil.

“You may,” Gwil says, and he winks at Rami. “What about it?”

“The picture,” Sami says, and he presses down on Gwil’s tattoo. He pokes at it with one hand, then the other. He pulls Gwil’s arm closer to him, and starts tracing his fingernail over the tiny details. “What’s it called again?”

“Desdemona.”

Sami mumbles over it, and pokes it again. “Can you stay?” he asks, and he rolls off the sofa and runs away.

“I’m going to stay right here,” Gwil says, and he stretches out. “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Good,” Ben murmurs. He’s curled up on the chair, his nose in a book.

“Good,” Gwil says, and Ben looks up, smiling at him.

“Let’s see,” Sami says as he walks back over to the sofa, clutching his markers. He pushes himself up on the sofa and kneels next to Gwil. “Gwil,” he whispers, and Gwil leans in. “Can I draw?”

“Where?” 

“On your arm.” Sami holds a marker up to Gwil’s face. “It’s safe.”

Rami gently clears his throat, and Gwil looks over at him, seeing Rami’s you don’t have to let him face. Gwil smiles, and Rami shrugs, looking back at the television.

“Oh, yes, I see it says non-toxic,” Gwil says. “Well, I suppose that will be alright.”

“Just here,” Sami says, touching the tattoo.

“Yes, no clothes, no fabric,” Joe says.

“I know!” Sami hums to himself, and pops the cap on his marker, starting to colour Gwil’s arm. “Does it hurt?”

“Not nearly as much as when I got it,” Gwil says.

“How do you get it?” Sami asks.

“Oh, it’s a needle,” Gwil says. “They fill it with ink and they stab your skin dozens of times, over and over, until there’s a picture.”

Sami slowly looks up at him, eyes wide.

Ben snorts, and slumps down further in his chair. “Jesus, Gwil,” he mutters.

“That’s why Baba and I don’t have any,” Joe says.

“Ouch!”

“It is ouch,” Gwil says. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Okay.” Sami leans down and presses a quick kiss to Gwil’s tattoo, and then he gets back to colouring. By the time he’s done, Desdemona is a mix of orange and purple, with a dot of red. Sami sits up and smiles proudly at Gwil. “What do you think?”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Gwil says.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, thank you.” 

“Pretty,” Rami says.

Sami looks around, still clutching his markers. Then he smiles at Gwil, and crawls over his lap to settle on his other side.

“What?” Gwil asks.

Sami keeps smiling as he pops the cap on a marker and presses the tip of it to Gwil’s other arm.

“What are you up to?” Gwil asks.

“Sami,” Rami says, leaning forward. “What are you doing, did you ask?”

“Can I?” Sami asks. “Please?”

“I don’t have a tattoo there.”

“I know, I’ll draw.”

“What did you want to draw?” Gwil asks.

“A kitty cat?”

“Oh, I suppose that’s alright,” Gwil says. “What colour?”

“Green.”

“Hmm, lovely.” Gwil looks down, watching Sami start on his outline. “What shall we name it?”

“Uh, Purple.”

“Oh, right,” Gwil says. “We love a twist.”

Sami hums to himself as he keeps colouring, and Gwil looks back at the television.

Ben looks up from his book, watching Sami for a couple seconds. “I know you said the markers are non-toxic,” he says. “Where did we land on washable?”

Gwil’s eyes widen, and Joe starts to laugh.

[zahmbee1]

My 3D printed body guitar. Fender roasted maple neck with a pau ferro fingerboard, Joe Barden hum canceling pickups, orange drop caps .047

[thedaveandkimmershow]

DAY 1

(going to California)

This was definitely not my favorite thing but we had to get up Thursday a few mornings ago at 430 in order to be on our flight to Orange County's John Wayne Airport when it takes off at 7.

So.

Get up. Start the coffee. Feed the cats. Finish emptying out the dishwasher. Showers. Get dressed. Grab our bags. And a little after 530 we're on a Lyft driven by one of our neighbors (as it turns out) to Paine Field where it's the busiest we've ever seen it let alone at 6AM.

Our plane lifts off a touch after 7 (after a thorough exterior de-icing) with the two of us on board for what is, essentially, a sunrise flight.

By the time we touch down at John Wayne, it's coming up on 930. We're both hungry, of course, 'cause breakfast before 530 in the morning seems completely un-useful and the breakfast sandwiches I found at the Paine Field airport were priced between twelve and fourteen dollars. 

Yeah.

Not gonna happen.

So first stop when we reach John Wayne?

Starbucks. Where we pick up breakfast sandwiches and hot drinks then we head straight for baggage claim 'cause by now a bit of time has passed. Enough time, in fact, that by the time we arrive at the carousel to which we'd been directed kind of a while ago by now (carousel 3), the carousel was completely empty and there was no one standing around.

Whoops.

Quickly, we're directed to a glass-walled, locked office in which we can clearly see our bag upright in front of a counter. There's no one in the room. The glass door's locked. Next to the door, though, affixed to the glass, is a phone number that connects me with the person who comes down to get us our bag.

So now that we have our luggage, we're still standing there with our coffee/lattes and breakfast sandwiches we nabbed at Starbucks. And since baggage claim basically empties out onto the street, encouraging us to leave the room, basically, there's nowhere comfy to sit. 

So we sit there. Right. There

On the floor. Our backs leaning against the wall.

Which is where and how we had our breakfast that day.

By 11 we're on our Uber ride on our way to Kimmer's cousin's place where, after quick Hello's all around, we make our way to our Irvine bedroom where we kill a coupla hours with sleep.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. ☺️

Four o'clock we're on the road again, this time with Kimmer's cousin to pick up his son from school. After which we head straight for The Lazy Dog as the sun begins to set on our traditional feast of seriously tasty happy hour appetizers at our usual table outside on the patio under a heater.

Priorities, you know?

After that, we hit our usual Trader Joe's down here for groceries and then we're back home around 630 for an easy, lovely evening capped with an episode of Resident Alien before finally.

Falling.

Asleep.