#//lots of people with different ages and they’re all dead and tossed away like trash

[mechahero]

@viopolis​ asked- 14, 17 and 20!

edgy/misc OC ask meme (accepting!)

14- How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

I think it depends on who he’s around, since that does affect he how wants a particular person to perceive him. He wants some people to see him as a superhero, others he wants to see as this terrifying, horrific force that will not stop until they’re dead, and for others he just wants to been seen as quiet, if not normal guy. (Minus everything that makes him so not normal but still.)

17- What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Worst thing so far? Because athletes definitely going to be a lot of super crappy things that are going to happen to him in the future. Anyways! Aside from the whole getting unwillingly turned into a cyborg thing, it’s definitely what he had to when he escaped. I’ve already talked about how he basically tore through the facility he was in and went on a panic fueled murder spree, but I never really talked about what he saw in the various rooms while he was escaping. Especially one room in particular.

Lambda had to make his way through a disposal room on the way out. This disposal room was full of the corpses of people who didn’t make it through the experimentation or died through the process of being turned into a cyborg. He had to climb over dead people to get out, so, there’s that?

20- Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

I think he does but he’s not aware that jealousy is something he feels as he lacks the words to describe it. It usually does show though him being incredibly catty. Rude little quips and jabs sent towards the person or thing that’s made him so jealous. Not quite mean girl behavior but definitely a bit close to it. It’s a little ridiculous, to be honest.

[shihalyfie]

Shihanne’s Kizuna meta -- Part 1: The meaning behind Kizuna, and the actual cause of partnership dissolution

Kizuna is a very easy movie to misunderstand, and it’s not helped by the fact that the official translation kind of sucks. (Seriously, I highly recommend you check out the translation of one of the novels -- the Dash X or the Shueisha Mirai version -- because of how badly the official one sucks.) On top of that, a lot of its information is packed in the subtleties of a lot of its lines, which means that, without paying very close attention, you can walk off with a completely misleading interpretation of what the movie is trying to say. A lot of times I see people talking about how the movie’s message is about adulthood sucking, or partnership dissolution being an inevitable thing...when the movie actually makes multiple indications that this is not the case.

(The rest of the post contains major spoilers for the movie, so be warned.)

Do note that the below is only my personal interpretation, and because there is a lot to unpack with this movie, please feel free to disagree with or disregard any of my interpretations here.

Kizuna has a lot of things to say about adulthood, but the most obvious theme is, of course, “don’t be too trapped in nostalgia” -- represented by Menoa’s desire to trap everyone in Neverland so they can never move forward, and, on a meta level, the ridiculous amount of Adventure imagery associated with people who can’t move on (yeah, they weren’t really subtle about that part...). But as a result, the idea behind the movie is often taken the wrong way -- does this mean that they’re trashing on the very series they’re meant to honor? Is the movie about people having to swallow adulthood being painful? After all, the movie says that partners disappear when you become an adult! Isn’t the movie saying we all have to accept that (even though the sheer existence of the 02 epilogue should imply otherwise)?

Nope! The movie actually does have another inner layer about what it means to become an adult, and how to develop a healthy relationship with your adulthood that isn’t just violently cutting everything away -- in fact, it considers that to be another unhealthy extreme that it warns against. It’s just that this theme is a little more latently hidden, and you have to connect the dots a little to figure that out.

I think a lot of the reason so many people miss this is predicated on the fact that you are not supposed to take Menoa’s statement at face value. It’s her statement as presented in the official trailers and a lot of the advertising material, so it’s easy to think that she’s supposed to be the deliverer of the movie’s message, but that is very much not the case! Understanding this is key to understanding the core theme of the movie, and what it’s trying to say in terms of a lead-up to the 02 epilogue.

Menoa’s statement on adulthood, which is what the concept of partnership dissolution is supposedly predicated on, is the following (quoted from onkeikun’s translation of the Dash X Bunko novel, which uses the movie script):

Do all of you know why it’s children who are chosen to be partners with Digimon?... It’s because children are full of possibilities... The future is rife with limitless choices. You grow as a person by making those choices. “Growth” and “possibilities” together produce vast energy. As I’m sure you guys are already aware, the evolutions of your Digimon partners are triggered by your growth... When that power is gone… Your partnership with your Digimon ends.

Keep in mind that Menoa has built this “theory” based on her own experience. She’s convinced that her “choice” to become an adult was what took Morphomon from her. She’s convinced that Adulthood is Bad, and that Choices are Bad. Menoa is very much biased from her own experience, and her theory is not reliable. Seriously, do you think someone who eventually decides that forcing everyone into an eternal loop of their childhood is an excellent idea is a reliable source for these kinds of things?

Not only that, she’s also claiming that this is supposed to apply to all adults just because this happened to her. Although she claims that this is part of her research, there clearly have not been enough cases of partnership dissolution for this to be a well-known issue. Given that she lost Morphomon at a young age, and she’s one of the oldest Chosen Children, it’s natural that she might think that this might be a universal phenomenon and that it might not have “kicked in” for everyone else, but nevertheless, she’s committing a major no-no in scientific research -- extrapolating based on a painfully small sample size, and letting her own biased perception of events manipulate what she sees as the result.

When Gennai supposedly “confirms” the partnership dissolution phenomenon, note that he does not actually confirm Menoa’s theory.

Unfortunately, you are experiencing the case where your partnership is dissolving... But if you guys still have infinite possibility…Then it’s possible…

The fact that Gennai refers to it as a “case” is very important (it’s very clear in the Japanese line too, jirei). This is a thing that may happen. It is not a thing that is guaranteed to happen, and it’s not necessarily a thing that comes with adulthood like Menoa thinks. What’s more, he even acknowledges that “having infinite possibility” is still possible for adults -- something that doesn’t fit with Menoa’s theory on Adulthood Being Bad and how it diminishes possibility.

As the movie eventually goes into Menoa’s plan for “saving” Chosen Children, she justifies her motive by saying that losing partners is “fate” (shukumei). She thinks that losing partners is an inevitability. She thinks that this is just something that comes with adulthood, and that unless she forces everyone to stay in their childhood, their only recourse will be to suck it up and to be miserable.

This is why the climax is dedicated to Taichi and Yamato proving her wrong.

“What you’ve chosen wasn’t a mistake!” “But no matter what waits for us after making that choice…!” “We have to live with the decisions that we make!”... “We might not be able to change our fate. But!” “We can change our destiny!”

In essence, Taichi and Yamato are disproving both parts of Menoa’s theory on Adulthood Being Bad. It’s not that choices are inherently bad, it’s just that sometimes there are consequences of said choices...but it’s not like said consequences lead to dead ends. Taichi and Yamato, in contrast to Menoa’s belief in “fate”, believe in “destiny” (unmei) -- the difference being that they believe in being able to change that predetermined fate by their own efforts.

The concept had come up earlier in To Sora, too --

Hey, Sora-san. I think it was destiny that we became Chosen Children. But I don’t think it was fate.

It’s a completely different conversation, but Mimi is basically talking about the philosophy that pushes the Chosen Children forward -- that sure, some things seem to be predestined and beyond simple luck, but also that they’ve had choice in manipulating the events and changing what seems normally inevitable.

So if Menoa’s theory about partnerships dissolving in adulthood is questionable to begin with, then what does cause partnership dissolution? Again, it’s not actually established that this is something that happens to everyone. We only have four confirmed cases within the scope of the movie: Menoa herself, Taichi, Yamato, and Sora. So what do they have in common?

Well, the night before the ring appeared on Taichi and Yamato’s Digivices, they had this conversation:

“You should take Gabumon with you to your classes,” Taichi said jokingly. Yamato smiled wryly. “Don’t be stupid. Why don’t you take Agumon to your classes?” “It’s not that simple. I have my own life to live.”

And during the events of To Sora -- which presumably happened right before the ring appeared for Sora -- this happened:

When Piyomon had come to inform her that Koushiro had sent a message, Sora had said to her angrily, “Don’t bother me!” The distress and irritation of her practice not going well had caused Sora to take it out on her. But even when lashed out by that irrational anger, Piyomon had been the one who apologized. When she saw Piyomon hanging her head apologetically, Sora had felt a surge of regret but no room in her heart to apologize as well. “I need to focus on this right now…” She had said as her excuse, and looked away.

And in Menoa’s case, a certain something shows up in the Shueisha Mirai Bunko version of the novel -- it’s implied in the movie itself, but the novel itself says it pretty explicitly:

Waiting in front of the swing at her family’s home, where they’d always played together when Menoa was a child, was her beloved friend. Lately, she’d been studying so much that they hadn’t been talking to each other at all, so she wanted Morphomon to lavish her with praise. She wanted her to say, “Menoa, you’re amazing!”

See a pattern? All of the known cases of partnership dissolution involved neglect of their Digimon partners in pursuit of “adulthood”.

Taichi and Yamato ditched Agumon and Gabumon at the start of the movie and left them with their siblings. Agumon hadn’t even been to Taichi’s room before, even though Taichi lives by himself and is clearly lonely -- his reaction when Agumon finds his AVs, “you have to be an adult -- “ tells all, because he clearly thinks of Agumon as “a child” who shouldn’t be near his New Adult Life. Sora may have apologized later, but it sounds like there’s been a constant pattern of her starting to focus so much on her studies that she’s emotionally neglected Piyomon. And, of course, Menoa herself rushed so much to become “an adult” that she neglected her beloved partner in the process -- they weren’t even talking anymore! And the fact that the swing is discussed in past tense, when Menoa was a child, indicates that Morphomon may not be the only thing Menoa had tossed away in pursuit of “becoming an adult”.

(Note how Menoa constantly talked through the movie about the fact she and Morphomon had “always been together”, as if Morphomon had been ripped unfairly from her suddenly and for no reason...only for the revelation that Menoa was guilty of neglect to drop at the end. I repeat: Menoa is not a reliable person to be taking words at face value from.)

It really, really doesn’t seem like coincidence that Taichi and Yamato’s Digivice rings appeared the day after they flippantly laughed at the idea of taking Agumon and Gabumon to school because it would get in the way of “having their own lives to live”. Recall that Digimon in the Adventure universe have always generally been taken to represent an alter ego, or a part of oneself. (They were literally developed to represent part of the human soul in physical form.) On a symbolic level, your partner disappearing is representative of you losing touch with yourself -- and your own childhood innocence -- because of some arbitrary, societally-enforced standard of “becoming an adult”.

Fun side note? As mentioned in the movie, Eosmon is named after the Greek goddess of the dawn, who also has another interesting story about her: she fell in love with a mortal man and, not wanting him to die before her, requested that he be given eternal life, but neglected to ask that he be given eternal youth, and was forced to watch as her lover kept living on and on and withered further and further with age. Neglected the concept of youth, huh.

That’s why partnerships seem to dissolve with adulthood, but it’s not from the simple act of becoming an adult -- it happens when you take that adulthood and decide that you’re going to reject all of those “childish” things about yourself in pursuit of that goal, and lose yourself in the process. And sure, they may have tried to fix it right away, but these things aren’t just momentary moments of weakness; they build, and build, and build, and build, until you’re at the point of no return and need to take drastic measures to get it back.

And in fact, if you inspect the staff interviews (which have been, presumably, deliberately vague about this in the hopes of having the audience figure it out), they hint at it, too:

For this movie, we had the concept of "separation from their Digimon", which means being able to completely separate yourself from your past self, or rather, wondering if it might be better to cut yourself entirely from your past adventures in becoming more like an adult.

Not only that, but this explanation tracks much better than what Menoa claims is the case. Under Menoa’s explanation of choices diminishing possibilities, characters like Daisuke and Jou who had their paths already determined from an early age should have lost their partners a long time ago, and conversely, Taichi and Yamato, who weren’t sure on what to do with their lives at the beginning of the movie, should not have lost their partners. But ���emotional neglect from the obsession with growing up” tracks even with our “outlier” cases -- Menoa “forced” herself to become an adult at the very-not-adult age of 14 and lost her partner, while Oikawa also didn’t actually get to “meet” Pipimon until he accepted that exact same thing -- that he needed to embrace the “power to dream” instead of considering himself a “tainted adult”.

(Ichijouji Ken, who could be argued to be guilty of emotional neglect of Wormmon in some sense, initially seems like a violation of this principle, but closely observing the Kaiser’s behavior during 02 indicates an often paradoxical thread of behavior implying that he seemed to have been rejecting and yet wanting him nearby at the same time, which is part of the reason Wormmon’s death breaks him so badly. In fact, it often feels like he goes out of his way to acknowledge Wormmon for the specific purpose of rejecting him. In a metaphorical sense, knowing that Wormmon is representative of Ken’s own inner self, the metaphor of Ken being in perpetual internal conflict of constantly trying to outwardly reject his own heart for being “weak” yet never truly being able to escape it until he’s finally forced to accept it for good is not lost. It was not a positive relationship with Wormmon by any means, but it was, nevertheless, a conscious and active relationship, for which “neglect” does not feel like an appropriate word.)

When you look back at Menoa’s life and backstory, it then becomes clear how she made her mistake in her theory. Menoa basically threw away her childhood in order to become an adult, and she never learned to embrace the happy medium between having an unhealthy attachment to the past and violently cutting it off. Late in the movie, she claims that there’s nobody else who understands how she feels, and we also learn in her flashback that she had an obsession with doing things “on her own”, or in other words, she cut off any potential friends or people who could help her (Morphomon seems to have legitimately been her only friend and confidant). So in her mind, “losing touch with your inner self and having no connection to the happiness of your childhood” is fundamentally synonymous with becoming an adult. That’s how she develops her mentality of “adulthood is drudgery and has no value, and we’d be better off never getting there” -- and that adulthood strips people of possibilities and therefore provides no recourse from losing your Digimon partner, and that the only way to reclaim anything from your childhood is to just shove yourself back into its box. Her own life had no such hope in it, so she projects that lack of hope onto everyone else.

With that in mind, the two major questions that come from this:

Will this happen to everyone? Hard to say, but I don’t think it would necessarily. Remember, even though Menoa is one of the oldest Chosen Children and had this happen to her at an abnormally early age, not everyone has such an unhealthy relationship with adulthood, nor is as likely to neglect their partners nearly as much in the process of figuring out what adulthood means to them. That doesn’t mean that those it does happen to made some “mistake” or “messed up”, though -- press materials and the BD commentary made it clear that this was not a movie intended to endorse “one way to live”, and sometimes the degree of introspection and experimentation with what adulthood means to you does result in momentarily trying to cut things away until you figure your life balance out, especially if you want to take on a challenge with as high of a hurdle as Taichi’s road to becoming a diplomat.

So what’s the solution? Although it’s still left to everyone’s imagination to figure out the details, at the very least, figuring out yourself and snapping yourself out of this very unhealthy relationship with “growing up” and holding yourself to arbitrary, false standards is probably a great start! Menoa had her “vision” of Morphomon the moment Taichi and Yamato’s words reached her within Eosmon. Gennai specifically says that partnership dissolution will cause the Digimon to disappear in terms of losing their “form” (sugata), but given that Digimon in the Adventure universe are supposed to represent a part of yourself, they’re probably still there (just not there)! In that light, getting them back...is probably not actually all that hard, if they can sit down and take some time to figure themselves out. That’s why Menoa never figured it out this whole time in the last eight years; she was so busy focusing on “scientific” ways to get Morphomon back, and staying perpetually stuck in a twisted nostalgic version of her past, that she never actually sat down to think about herself and what she was doing. And that’s why the movie’s climax is about Taichi blowing the whistle to wake everyone up -- it’s still about moving forward, but it’s about using your past to move forward, instead of gravitating to the extremes of either latching onto it eternally or attempting to abandon it outright.

So really, the solution is for everyone to get some damn therapy.

Given that, the path to the 02 epilogue doesn’t actually seem that particularly difficult compared to how Menoa made the problem initially sound like. It’s not like every adult is going to inevitably have this happen as a process, and thus it’s not like everyone has to find some magical technical solution that’ll rectify one of the laws of the universe. The solution is really more somewhere between the unhealthy extremes presented in the movie -- Menoa’s fixation on nostalgia and the past being the only good thing in her life, and Taichi and Yamato (initially) rejecting said childhoods in favor of “adulthood” -- and figuring out how to use and cherish your childhood, past experiences, and inner self to move forward.

And given Sora’s revelation in To Sora about taking care of herself more, and Taichi and Yamato starting to settle on their career decisions for real by the end of Kizuna, they’re already on their way to figuring things out. Or, in other words, it’s likely that they’ll get their partners back simply through the natural course of making their way to the epilogue. Taichi’s starting to value his childhood experiences as important in his future work in diplomacy. Yamato, according to the Shueisha Mirai version of the novel, is becoming an astronaut to entertain the “romantic” dream of going to space with Gabumon. Sora, as per the 02 epilogue, will end up known not for being an iemoto heir but a kimono designer -- a skill that she’s presumably going to be discovering on her own, and not under obligations to others. Gennai himself said that there was hope as long as they still had “infinite possibility” -- something that Taichi, Yamato, and Sora were closing up on themselves at the beginning of this movie, but were starting to re-open the door to again once they started reconnecting with themselves and embarking on some proper paths by the end of it.

“We’ll definitely come to see you” -- indeed, they will.

(Next is the sequel to this meta, where I discuss Kizuna’s relationship with not only 02′s epilogue but also 02 itself as a whole, and the reason the 02 group has such an unusual position in this movie.)

[thesolitarystripe]

Writing Prompt # 8: A 96-year-old woman’s phone number is one digit away from that of the suicide hotline. She could have changed it long ago, but she does not mind.

Here's your TW: Talk of familial loss, mention of suicide.

I found this writing prompt on tumblr from writing-prompts-re and for whatever reason it spoke to me. I just thought, what an endearing prompt for a subject that could potentially be so dark. It is dark, it's sad, and what a rainbow a little old woman painted over it. At least, in my head. I've been slumping back into that habit of losing my motivation. I'm not sure why. I'm giving myself the grace to do what I can and not beat myself up over it. Finding this writing prompt sparked it up all over again for me. It made me really miss my grandma. While I don't think she ever had this problem, I know she would have been just as comforting as Myrtie. In a way, I think I wrote this for her. I love you Nonni! Thank you for always being a soft spot to land. Enjoy.

Another Friday evening, another Jeopardy re-run. Myrtle, or as all her friends used to call her—Myrtie sat within the comfort of her reddish, brown recliner that was much too big for her. Always a petite woman, she looked like a twelve-year-old with the way the cushions swallowed her thin limbs, but she also appeared immeasurably comfortable. Myrtie pulled up the purple knitted blanket over her knees, gently tugged up the arms of her robe over both wrists as her hands lifted, poised with knitting needles and she began to bring yet another blanket into existence. This was how Myrtie spent most of her evenings, swaddled in a plush terry cloth robe, a pair of thick socks pulled up to the calf, and her hair resting beneath a bonnet, wrapped in curlers. Beside her was a cup of decaffeinated tea and a plate of cookies. Myrtie’s hands, while weathered by 96 years of life, worked the needles flawlessly as if they were an extension of a machine designed exactly for the purpose of knitting large lounging blankets. Every so often, she would giggle over something Alex Trebek would say to the participants on the show but save from the singsong chuckle, the room was silent. Myrtie had lost her husband twenty years ago. After marrying at the age of eighteen, it had been a difficult transition into this life alone. A life without his stories, hugs and forgetfulness. Myrtie often smiled sadly, wishing now for a sock to be left out of place or for the trash to be forgotten on the side of the house on garbage day. All those little things that would always make her so furious with her spouse, they were the details she missed most. Myrtie survived much longer than most of her friends, save for one that had gone to live inside a facility. They never spoke much, Myrtie assumed that either her friend had limited access to her phone or was too busy hustling the other residents in Bingo to bother calling. Myrtie was grateful for her loving and supportive family, but they could do nothing during the lonely nights when they went home to their families. She could not blame them. So, when her phone rang every so often late at night, Myrtie would answer. When the calls first began, she thought it odd that telemarketers would call so late but she soon realized her mistake.

This night, when her landline phone rang, she picked up the corded antique beside her and spoke.

“Hello?” Her voice held that raspy quiver that all good grandmothers had.

“I think I’m done.” The voice was new to her.

“Done? Done with what sweetheart?” There was a pause, as if the other voice sensed something was off but the draw of Myrtie’s kind voice urged them on.

“With living. With the world. I’m done here.”

“Oh, surely there’s things to stick around for,” Myrtie said, fluffing out her half-knitted blanket as she tucked the phone against her shoulder and ear to better use both hands.

“I don’t have anyone.”

“You have yourself. Isn’t he worth living for?” Another beat of silence. “You sound like you’re being too hard on yourself, your importance in the world does not hang on teeter-tottering validation of other people, honey. To be loved by others is a wonderful thing but loving yourself is just as important. Why don’t you stick around for yourself?”

“I’m lonely! Why would I want to be alone?”

“That is a good question, baby. Loneliness is so hard.” Myrtie’s hands paused, her heart gave one of those familiar throbs as it related to the young soul on the other end of the phone. Loneliness was something she was well acquainted with. “Before you go, have you got time for a story?”

“Well…yeah, I guess…”

Myrtie straightened up in her recliner, stretched out her back, and sighed. “I was married at eighteen years old to the love of my life. Albert. Goodness was he handsome! Now, we spent the first few years of our marriage apart—he went off to serve our beloved country. I was so desperately lonely without him. It didn’t matter that I had friends who called me up every day, parents to have supper with at night, I even watched the neighbor’s kids next door for a little spending money, and as busy as they kept me, I could never shake that feeling. When he came back, oh, it was the best day of my life! We spent the next fifty-six years together, every day! We had five beautiful children, a handful of pets that came and went, we lived in two different states and bought over four different cars.” Myrtie sat there smiling, her knuckles buried in the thick knots of her craft. “I miss him every day, it’s been twenty years and I still roll over in bed and miss the sight of him lying there, snoring.” Myrtie laughed. “Oh Lord how he snored! It was like someone was chopping down logs all night. I hated him for it,” her laugh tapered off in that pensive way, as her heart remembered fondly the memory then internalized the pain of it. “I would give anything to hear it now.”

There was silence. Sixty seconds of silence.

“Someone’s going to miss you like that, honey.”

A soft sob rustled against the receiver of the phone.

“I don’t know who you all have in your life, but I know you have a mama and a daddy. Even if things aren’t good between you now, they’ll miss you like that. Even if you haven’t spoken in years, they’ll miss the way you laughed, the way you hugged, the way you smelled even when you were nothing but a stinky young thing! Sometimes loneliness clouds our vision of all the people we do have. It is so easy to want for something, to be lonely because what we have doesn’t live up to what we think we should have. A girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse, best friend of forever, doting parents—we all have some sort of expectation. We are human and that is perfectly all right. I’ll tell you what though, there are no shoulds. Don’t let those insidious little shoulds run your life. I should this, I should that—toss that notion away, baby. There is just what is, what you want and what you don’t want. You got someone that loves you? Even one person that you’re not quite thinking of?”

“Yes…” a soft sniffle followed the confession.

“Good, all you really need is you baby but, I’m glad you have someone looking out for you. They’ll be missing you something fierce if you decide to be done. Even if they’re all you got, remember it’s about quality. Albert was my only friend for as long as I can remember. Sure, I met some ladies over the years and we gabbed and baked and knitted together but—the quality of those relationships were different. Don’t cheapen the idea of the one you have just because you think you need a lot! It’s better to have one person at your funeral to speak on what a wonderful person you were than be lying dead in a room full of people with nothing to say. What do you think about calling them right now and telling them what’s on your heart? You think that might help? If not, I’m happy to keep chatting with you, sweetheart. I ain’t got nothing to do but finish up this blanket I’m knitting. My kids already have ten of them in each of their houses so maybe I’ll just give this one to you. You like purple?”

There was a soft laugh that responded. “It’s a good color,” he said with a deep breath, one that sounded like it cleansed years of his life.

“Yeah, it is, baby. I’ll finish it for you and when you come to get it, I’ll make sure to have some cookies on for you. We’ll sit and chat and make sure you’re doing all right, hm?”

“That sounds nice,” he was chuckling again, the remnants of his tears still dripping off his face. “I think—I think I’m going to call my friend Greg.”

“All right, well tell Greg I said hello. He’s welcome to come with you now, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” Another silence followed. It was only broken by another slow breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thanks for calling honey. You have my number now so don’t be leaving grandma Myrtie without saying goodbye! Promise me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good. Go call Greg now, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I will, bye Myrtie.”

The phone clicked and Myrtie hung up her landline with a soft clack of its plastic body. Myrtie knew there would be no visitation from her new friend. It was what she offered to all of them, a place to escape their loneliness. A reminder that while life’s peaks and valleys were relentless, there was always something to look forward to. Even if it was just a warm plate of cookies and a handmade blanket. Myrtie knew her phone number was one digit away from the suicide hotline. She pieced that together after receiving a dozen calls from hurting hearts. At first, she thought to hang up but, something about the way the broken words of other human beings dipped into her soul—she knew she could not let them go. Myrtie had no idea if anything she ever said actually helped someone, if they stayed. What she did know is that it helped her. In her own loneliness, it was like a salve on her own heart to know that others shared the same feelings but soldiered on despite the pain. Myrtie had lived within the dark recesses of her own mind and found light only in those around her once she willed herself to be open to seeing the love she did have, even if it wasn’t Albert’s. Myrtie reached over and grabbed her teacup, put it to her lips, rocked in her recliner, and looked at the phone. She hoped it would always ring when it needed to.

[jojoimaginestories]

Thank you (Giorno Giovanna)

Thank you

Paring: Giorno Giovanna x Fem! Reader Words: 1699 Warning: Mild Language, Fluff, Protective!Abbacchio a bit, Bruno wants to play matchmaker, kind!Reader, a little bit dark but not EXTREMELY dark Requested By: None

**Gif not mine**

Some people would describe you as a broken soul. You were between this existence and the land of the dead. Some would say you had lost your will to live and were just trying to find someone who would give you that one shred of love you ask for. Some have just assumed you were extra baggage no one claimed. You were nothing, in their terms. Others, however, described you as something differently.

You did things for the kindness of others. They explained that you haven’t found your path and were a bit misguided by others. You were tossed on a beaten path and came out scarred. Well, they weren’t long. Life itself was scarring. It gave people wounds deep within, things that needed to be buried up and held inside.

Despite you being in your mid to late teens, your experience made people think you were in your late 20s. Wait until you tell them your age. Their jaws will drop in an instant. The first person whose jaw didn’t drop was your leader, Bruno Bucciarati.

Bucciarati had found you while you were young and easily influenced, but he knew really why you were the way you were. Years of neglect, searching for something to do, searching for a purpose. He was one of the men in your life that gave some meaning. The second, was Leone Abbacchio. Back in his cop days, he found you searching through a trash can trying to find food and he bought you something to eat. You were very thankful to him. The day you found out he wasn’t a cop anymore, you asked Bucciarati to find him and scout him. That day that Abbacchio joined, you were grateful. You had already met Fugo by that point, then came along Narancia and Mista. You had your own family, and had found a piece of something you had searched for.

The day Giorno Giovanna joined Passione, you felt that he had different intentions than the others. There was something about him that didn’t settle with you, but it couldn’t be that he was bad or anything. He was actually quite nice to you, in fact, he warmed up to you due to how close you both were age-wise. He opened up to you and Bucciarati more. Abbacchio had a thing against him, but the others were fine with him.

“Hey, Brat,” Abbacchio muttered towards you as you looked up to face him.

“Yeah Abba,” You asked innocently.

He ruffled your hair. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for a few days. It’ll just be you, Bruno, and the other brat,” He hummed. “If he does something to you, I’ll fuck him up, alright?”

You blinked. “…Do you mean Giorno?”

He grunted at the sound of his name. “Yeah. I mean him. If he does something, I’ll make him wish he was never born. Alright?”

You slowly nodded. “Don’t threaten him like he’s going to murder me. We’ll be fine, alright? You better come back,” You stood and puffed your cheeks towards him. “Last time, we couldn’t play cards and you promised we would.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be careful.” He ruffled your hair again before walking off.

You watched him and the others depart, wishing them luck and waving bye. You saw Bucciarati turn towards you and Giorno as he nodded.

“I have to go somewhere for a bit as well. I won’t be back until tomorrow, hold down here (Y/n),” He nodded to you, then nodded towards Giorno. “Make sure she doesn’t get in trouble. She does that often.”

“…Not often,” You puffed your cheeks out. “But sometimes…”

“Exactly,” He chuckled and left.

You grabbed your book that you were reading and returned to your sitting position on the couch, leaving Giorno where he stood.

“What’re you reading (Y/n),” Said boy appeared near you as he looked at the book in your hands.

You perked up. “This is a good book! It’s about a knight fighting for a princess against the whole kingdom because she’s betrothed to another. It’s so cheesy, but I like it!” You grinned and looked up at him. “What’re you gonna do, Giorno? You can practically do anything while they’re gone to keep yourself busy.”

He stood up straight. “I might just go on a walk. I’m a bit hungry actually.”

You stood up next to him. You weren’t that short compared to Giorno, but you still had to look up at him. “Then let’s go! I know a place that sells home cooked food~!”

You dragged him along and giggled. His cheeks were a bit flushed.

--

You two spent the day walking around the city. You admired a lot of things, mainly scenery and little snacks you two decided to eat on your adventure. What Giorno did was admire you. You see, ever since he met you, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to you. He thought there was something enchanting about you, something he couldn’t ignore. He wanted to say something to you, but knowing who was there to protect you, Abbacchio would be first to deliver a swift ass-kicking to Giorno for tainting you. Though, really, you were simply an innocent girl just trying to find her path. And he wanted to be there every step of the way when you would soon find your path one day.

“Look, it’s (Y/n),” You both heard. “She looks so happy for once, maybe someone finally wants her.”

“Oh, I doubt it. I heard she’s a prostitute. She sells her body because she can’t find anyone who would want to touch her.”

You froze at the voices. Your happy exterior vanished as your mind became hollow. It was typical to hear things like that at this point, but it didn’t stop your emotions from feeling something from it. Giorno saw your face and thought. He breathed. He cupped your cheeks and made you face him. He pecked your lips gently and pulled away.

“Don’t believe them,” He murmured. “You are the happiest girl I’ve ever seen. Even I know there’s something enchanting about you, and rumors won’t change that.”

Your hollowed eyes returned your emotions as you stared at Giorno’s fiery-green eyes. He pulled away and tugged on your hand.

“Let’s get you some gelato. I want your smile to return.”

You stared at him as the two of you walked. You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around one of his. You stared at him in awe.

“Why’d you just kiss me,” You mumbled.

He blinked as his face got red. He looked away from you and rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I… I just wanted to, okay? Don’t think so much into it,” He murmured.

Your eyes glowed. “Do you like me, Giorno?”

“Of course, I do. Everyone in Passione does.”

“But do you LIKE me? As in, are you in love with me?” You smiled. “Do you?”

“…I may…”

You giggled. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Then I’m in love with you too~!”

He looked at you. “Won’t the others hurt me for confessing my feelings for you?”

You shook your head. “No, just Abbacchio, but if I explained how you defended me, he’ll just reprimand you. I’m pretty sure Bucciarati had nothing planned and wanted us to be by ourselves.”

Giorno blinked in realization that the way Bruno left was a bit too sudden for his liking. “Huh… do you think that clearly?”

“I study people for a living, Giorno,” You winked. “It’s my job to.”

His cheeks flushed a bit as he smiled. “You should tell me more about it.”

“I will when you buy me gelato first~! That way, we can properly enjoy this date.”

--

By the time the others returned, they saw Giorno leaned against you as you were reading. You looked up and waved.

“Did you two fight while were gone? You both look tuckered out,” Mista chuckled.

“Aw, we missed the fun,” Narancia pouted.

“We didn’t fight,” You sighed. “You think so lowly of us,” You pouted.

Abbacchio’s eyes darted between you and Giorno. He glared at him. “Oi, brat, get off of (Y/n),” He muttered and almost kicked him.

You gasped. “Hey, don’t mess with my boyfriend,” You muttered.

They all gave you a shocked expression as Bruno sipped his cappuccino in a recliner. “I told you all leaving them alone was good,” He hummed. “Give me by bets now,” He held his hands up.

Fugo grunted. “You staged it, you know that,” He asked.

“It was just convenient.”

Fugo turned towards you. “Was this forced,” He asked. “I know you rush into things quickly, (Y/n).”

“No, this wasn’t force,” You waved dismissively. “I’m full of genuine feelings. Now seriously, he’s napping Abba, if you kick him, I will kick you.”

“She won’t hesitate either,” Narancia laughed. “She did that once and your headphones almost broke!”

“It was almost scary,” Mista shivered. “That’s why I stay on her good side.” He walked off.

Abbacchio still glared at Giorno. You leaned forward a bit and looked into his eyes. “He saved me from these women calling me out on the street, you know? One called me a prostitute and said that no one loves me. He reminded me that I am loved.” You smiled. “So be nice to him.”

He huffed. “Alright, fine, I won’t kick his ass. But he better watch himself,” He muttered and walked off. “I need a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you Abba!”

Giorno woke up from his nap as he looked up at you. “Why did I hear voices,” He asked quietly.

“The others got back. Bucciarati is now richer, Abba was a bit pissed but he won’t hurt you, Mista and the others are cool with it, and I’m pretty sure Fugo is going to punish Narancia with math. You didn’t miss much,” You winked.

“Huh. You did say that Abbacchio wouldn’t hurt me but reprimand me.”

You nodded sharply. “I’m a smart cookie! He’s just telling you to watch yourself.”

He chuckled. “You’re lively aren’t you? You’re certainly not hollow.”

Your cheeks flushed a bit as you stared at him. You smiled softly. “Thank you, Giorno.”

[kinghoranshit]

Middle of the Night (1D) Ch 1

Word Count: 1,665

I couldn’t fathom why I decided to go along with the boys on their latest tour. When Niall asked if I’d join the North American leg, I should’ve said no. Simple as that. As one of their best friends, and freelance graphic designers, I wasn’t obligated to go. It was easier to hide who I truly was when I wasn’t surrounded by them 24/7, or in the limelight. I could back out still, but then that’d also look suspicious to everyone involved, and that included the fans who viewed the tour from an outside perspective. 

There were some of our kind who managed to have successful “famous” careers and then dip out on a mysterious misfortune with no public eye on them. I never wanted that for myself. I’d been careful about it. Then I met this boy band through my latest work at Modest! Management, and it turned out, they became grossly huge and they wanted me to be their best friend. 

I took a deep breath to try to calm myself down as I packed. I knew that getting all worked up wouldn’t help, especially since I needed to get on the road soon. I had to meet them at the show in Chicago. It was only a four hour drive from where I lived, so my father said he would take me there. From there, the tour bus would be how I traveled with the boys. 

I stuffed various pairs of jeans, pixie pants, blouses, shirts, and cardigans into my duffel. I also chucked my Gucci mules into it; I wore a pair of all white Nikes with black straight jeans, a white tank I cropped myself, and a pistachio green cardigan. It was the end of summer, going to fall in a couple weeks, but with who I was, having the least amount of sun hit my skin was for the better. I grabbed my backpack next to put my laptop into it, along with chargers, airpods, and sketch pad.

I strapped my duffel and computer bag on my shoulder and walked out to the kitchen and living room area. My dad sat at the table, working away on his laptop; he came in last night so we could leave by ten this morning.  

I reached out for an apple from the wooden bowl in the middle of the island and took a bite out of it. Being who I was, I didn’t have taste buds for human food. I’ve never understood when the boys got excited about food. I haven’t had real taste buds for centuries, so I’ve forgotten. It was like those memories were instantly erased after I was turned. 

“Hey Izzie, when was the last time you fed?” my dad asked suddenly.

He wasn’t my actual biological dad. Our kind couldn’t reproduce- well the human way anyways. My biological parents were long dead and I was a Lady on her own deathbed when my father bit me. He did it to save me. I had been a miracle and wedded to a duke, then shunned when I could not bear a child; that was more than right with me. Now I literally lived forever, and it would take nearly so much for me to be on a deathbed again. I hoped that would never happen. As long we kept ourselves underground, there would never be an uprising of hell. 

I thought for a second. “Uhm… A month ago. Why?”

We had to feed every month or so, or our bodies would weaken, our eyes would turn fiery red, our fangs would automatically lengthen, and we could end up lashing out on an innocent person. But when we were fully fed, we stayed strong and could control ourselves a lot easier. 

My father cleared his throat and circled his face. “Your eyes.”

I raised my eyebrows and hurried into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror to see my eyes were dark red, almost to the point of being black. This wasn’t great. Not by a long shot. I did not need this right now. It was the last issue I needed to have. I knew I should’ve made my trip to feed last weekend. 

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. 

I grabbed a pack of grey contacts out of the cabinet and put in a set. When they weren’t fiery red, they were grey. They used to be a kelly green, I knew that much. When the venom took over my genetics, they matched my dad’s. The only sort of resemblance we had. 

I went back to the kitchen and tossed my contacts into my backpack. I ran a hand through my bleach blonde hair, letting out a deep breath. “I guess I’ll have to go out tonight.”

We could maybe stop somewhere on the way. That would be risky since it would still be daylight and the passerbyers would be high. My dad and I, we didn’t feed on humans; we fed on animals. In the utmost rare cases, and the person was willing, we’d feed on a human. 

“Do you have any contacts for the meantime?”

I rolled my eyes with a nod. “Yes, they’re already in. This isn’t my first, you know that.”

He chuckled. “I can’t help it. You’re still my little girl.”

Yes, his little girl that was over 200 years old. I wasn’t so little anymore time wise. Age wise I was still considered a young adult for life. It wasn’t the worst possible situation to be in. I could hold steady jobs without the question of education, and I could drink legally anywhere in the world. I also had the face where I could pass from the ages of 22-34 without any burning questions. Any age after that was risking it, so I’d have to make my next move and identity change.

I smirked. “Right. Well, we should get on the road. The guys are expecting me around lunch time.”

“Right then, let’s go,” he slipped into a british accent, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn't mean to do that.” 

We were both of british heritage, which I guess gave us another talking point to how we were supposedly related. With having to change our identities every century or so, we had to adapt new accents sometimes. This time we were American. It was something to be more or less proud of.

Thankfully the boys were all from the UK and Ireland, so if I slipped I could blame it on as an impression. Despite forgetting particular senses, I could remember my original accent like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be hard to fall back if I ever wanted to be the old me in that aspect. 

I knew I should’ve said no to this.  

***

As predicted, there was nowhere safe to stop and feed. It was all wide open plains until the suburbs. I wasn’t feeling antsy or any less of my sane self. Not yet. I hadn’t reached this point in over two centuries, so it was going to be hard to gauge how long it would be. It was only mere days for sure though. 

We did not want to reach that point. 

“Remember to feed tonight or tomorrow. We know how hard the repercussions were last time.” 

I licked my lips, feeling my leg shake at my anticipation of being around the guys 24/7 for two months now. It was going to be… difficult. The gamble was up for sure. And if that wasn’t enough, there were those who hunted us for a living to look out for. If I happened to lash out, it would be all over the news and it would be like lighting up my destination. 

I cleared my throat. “I know dad. And you’ll know if I’ve gone. It won’t go unnoticed this time.”

“That it won’t,” he remarked, reaching over to encase my hand. “It will be okay.”

“Sure.” I nodded. “I better go. I’ll call you every week, as always.” 

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek. “Of course, darling. I will speak to you soon.” 

I took one last deep breath before I stepped out of the vehicle, then grabbed my bags and headed inside. It was a fairly large stadium, and I had to hold up my backstage pass in order to get in one of the back doors. I used scents to track down where the guys were; dress rehearsal. 

As Liam went in for a chest voice note, I noticed a delectable vein pop on his neck. I forced myself to look away; I hadn’t said that about a human in centuries. I must need not to. I mustn’t let myself get wrapped in those hellish ways. I… really needed to feed. I had thoughts in my old tongue. 

“Izzie!” Niall cheered, handing his gear off to two different people, and ran down to embrace me in a hug. 

“It me.” I laughed, returning his hug. “Are you guys done for today?” 

“We are, love,” Harry answered with a smile. 

The rest came down the ramps and dogpiled on us. I was surrounded by a bunch of flesh and felt the opposite of thrilled; I was suffocating. Without making it seem like too much of a harsh rush, I squeezed myself out of the middle. Now my brain couldn’t stop the racing thoughts of how I could easily tear their hearts out and have a magnificent feast. 

“How about we go eat?” I suggested. “Pizza?” 

As long as they ate and reeked of that greezy trash, I would be less appealed. It would shut me down for now. 

“That sounds like a grand idea!” Louis agreed and picked up my duffel.

Niall tried to take my hand in his to pull me forward, but I played it off as running ahead of him. “Beat you to the bus!” 

His laugh was boisterous, as all were the rest. “Yeah, right!”

Next: Ch 2

[Masterlist]

[dingoes8myrp]

Supernatural: The Man with No Name, Chapter 22

This is a chaptered fanfiction piece taking place during season 14 of Supernatural.

Premise

This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”

The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.

Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Ao3.

Twenty-Two

“Tell me about Jack,” John said. “What’s his deal?”

He’d been curious about the boy since he shook his hand at the diner. There was something off about him he couldn’t quite place.

“Jack is… complicated,” Mary warned.

“Ain’t it always complicated?”

John smiled.

“Jack is a nephilim,” Mary said. “He’s the son of a woman named Kelly Kline, who died. And Lucifer.”

John straightened.

“Lucifer? He has a son here?”

“Jack wants no part of him,” Mary said. “He considers Castiel his father. He’s a good kid. New. His aging process is… Well, he’s technically only a year old. So, he’s still wrapping his head around things.”

John didn’t know what to make of that.

“Is he… I mean, what the hell is he?”

“He’s a boy, John. A good boy. He used to be powerful, but he’s weakened now. Basically a mortal until he… recharges.”

She didn’t know if that was the right word.

John felt uneasy about that, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. The kid had seemed alright to him. Kind. Pleasant.

Mary finished her beer, standing to toss the can in the trash and grab another.

“I’m trying to figure out why we have a Castiel and you don’t,” she said.

“Well, how’d he wind up here in the first place?” John asked.

Mary closed the fridge, cracked her beer, and sat back down on the bed.

“That’s…”

“Complicated,” John finished.

Mary smiled. She took a swig of her beer before she answered.

“He, uh… He pulled Dean out of Hell.”

John’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Hell?”

Mary nodded.

“Azazel, he threw Sam into this… competition. Him and other people who were fed Azazel’s blood as children.”

John nodded slowly.

“And they all died one by one,” he said. “That happened on our side, too.”

“It did?”

John nodded.

“Did Sam… Did Sam die in your version, too?” Mary asked.

John frowned.

“What? No. Sam, he… Well, he had to kill some people, but he came out of that one on top.”

“So, Dean never made his deal on your end.”

“What deal?”

Mary sighed, trying to recalibrate.

“Sam didn’t make it to the end of Azazel’s game,” she explained. “So, Dean made a deal to bring him back. He went to Hell, and Castiel brought him back.”

John sat back against the headboard.

“God damn.”

“Wait, then how did the seals start on your side?” Mary asked.

“What?”

“The first seal, the one that set everything in motion. It was ‘a righteous man spilling blood in Hell.’ Dean. He was the first seal. If he never went to Hell, what kicked it off for you?”

John ran a hand along his jaw.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Mary wondered if that was true, or if there was something he was leaving out.

“Explain something to me,” John said. “If you died back in nineteen-eighty-three, how am I sitting here talking to you?”

“Honestly? Divine intervention.”

John blinked.

“Run that by me again?”

She threw up her free hand.

“The short answer is God’s sister.”

“God’s… sister?” John asked.

He had to wrap his head around ‘God’ and then ‘sister’ on top of that.

“Yeah,” Mary said. “There was this whole thing with these upper-tier demons called Knights of Hell, and that led to Cain. ‘Cain and Abel’ Cain. He was, like, the leader of the Knights of Hell. Dean, at some point, was given the Mark of Cain. He hasn’t told me the details. But, through the Mark of Cain, the darkness was released. God’s sister, Amara.”

“Holy shit,” John muttered.

It was like learning to hunt all over again. He couldn’t keep up.

“She wanted to destroy the world,” Mary continued. “Instead, God left with her so she wouldn’t be alone, and she - or they, I’m not really sure. Somebody brought me back. I don’t know why.”

John studied her.

“Why do you think?” he asked. “If you had to guess?”

Mary thought about it. She’d thought about it a lot since she’d been back, gone back and forth from one theory to another.

“To fix things,” she said. “Right my wrongs.”

“Right your wrongs?” John asked.

He sounded baffled. Mary smiled.

“I made that deal with Azazel,” she said. “Then I left you all, dragged you into this world of monsters and apocalypses. Plural fucking apocalypses. In another world, I didn’t make the deal and the earth fell to Michael. That world’s horrific. People are barely hanging on over there. In your world, I didn’t die the night Azazel visited Sam. But I died when Lucifer rose, and that world went to shit.”

She took a shaky breath, trying not to sob. John sat up, setting his beer on the bedside table.

“Mary.”

“No matter what I do, what I did or didn’t do in whatever universe, it’s always the wrong fucking thing!”

Her voice came out small and shaky and John put his arms around her without a thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mary clung to him tight, sobbing quietly into his shirt.

“I don’t think that’s true,” John said.

His voice was quiet, soothing.

“I have one world where you died and Sam and Dean were never born because I didn’t make a deal. Another one where Dean and I died and Sam became Lucifer. This one where we both died and they’ve lost almost everyone they ever cared about. Now I’m back, and I know all of it. That every choice I ever make somehow leads to something horrible. It’s like… It’s like this is some kind of punishment.”

John frowned, pulling away slightly to look down at her.

“What?”

She wiped at her face.

“I don’t remember dying,” she said. “I mean, I remember Azazel, and I remember being dead. I was in Heaven. With you, and little Dean, and baby Sam. Mom. Dad. We were together, and we were normal, and we were happy. And now I’m here, and every day’s a fight. Some days every second. Just a fight to keep going, not to give up. And every morning I wake up and for about five seconds, I forget where I am. For five seconds you’re still alive, and my sons are still babies, and there are no monsters. And then I open my eyes, and I lose all of you all over again. I lose my whole family every day, and from that moment on every second is just keeping busy. Keeping moving. Filling the day up with endless things to do so I don’t have to think about everything I’ve lost. And there’s not even anyone to blame, because it’s all my fault. Every time, no matter how you slice it, it’s always because of something I did or didn’t do, and I just…”

John took her face gently in his hands. Her cheeks were damp and red with tears. His heart broke for her.

“I don’t know how to do this, John,” she said.

“Yes you do,” he whispered. “You’re doing it. You’ve always done it.”

He moved her hair out of her face so he could see her eyes.

“You fight,” he said. “You fight like Hell. Because the second you stop, the bad guys win.”

Mary sniffed, trying to collect herself.

“Maybe you are here to fix things,” John reasoned. “But, maybe not for you. Mary, out of the three worlds we’ve talked about, this is the only one where our sons are still our sons. Still alive and fighting hard for a world that hasn’t gone to shit yet. This is the only world where you, Sam, and Dean are all here together. Maybe you’re here because they need you, Mary.”

“They don’t,” she muttered.

“Of course they do,” John insisted. “You’re their mother.”

“I don’t even know them, John. When I died, Dean was four. Sam was just a baby. I missed their entire childhood. They’re grown men now and I have no idea who they are.”

“They’re your sons,” he said simply. “So, fight for them. Fight tooth and nail for them, Mary, because that’s who you are. A badass mama bear who’d do anything to protect her family.”

She closed her eyes tight against tears and nodded, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. She pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to turn into a total basket case.”

John smiled.

“You’re not.”

He couldn't imagine what it was like for her to have fast-forwarded through their entire childhood. He remembered her decorating for birthday parties, dinosaur themed and Indiana Jones themed. There had been one with cowboys. She'd opened Christmas presents with the kids in the morning, taught Sam how to ride a bike. Mary had nursed their fevers, kissed their boo-boos better, helped Dean through his first break-up. John couldn't believe there was a version of him who had raised the boys without her.

-

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Chapter Twenty-One, Chapter Twenty-Three,  Chapter Twenty-Four, Chapter Twenty-Five, Chapter Twenty-Six, Chapter Twenty-Seven

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 13 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating:  PG-13? 

Warnings:  adult language, angst.  Allusions to Carol/Other. 

Characters/Pairings:  Daryl Dixon, T-Dog, Noah, mentions of Beth Greene, Sophia Peletier, Carol Peletier, Merle Dixon, Karen, Enid, mentions of Noah/Beth, Jacqui, Jacqui/T-Dog, past Merle/Karen, past Carol/Daryl, original character. 

  Waltzing’s for Dreamers

    Seven years after Vegas.  Middle of March. 

      His mouth tastes like ass. 

  That’s the first thought that coalesces in Daryl’s sludge-ridden brain when he fights his way back to consciousness.  His mouth tastes like ass—hairy ass—with an undercurrent of Jack and…wait a damn minute.  Just when did he board a fuckin’ Tilt-a-Whirl?  Suddenly finding himself spread-eagled on the rottin’ porch, squinting into the too-bright morning sun and trying to figure out why the kid from his last period is looking at him like he’s a member of the undead, he groans.  Tries to sit up but that just spurs the jackhammer battering against the confines of his skull to maximum and shit.  Is that T kicking at his boots?  Tossing a grease-soaked bag in his general direction with a smile that’s more pitying that anything? 

  “I’d offer you hair of the dog, but…” 

  He opens up the bag and takes an experimental sniff.  Winces when his stomach rolls like he’s trying to surf a ten-story wave with a kid’s piece of shit boogie board and sets the offering aside.  Notices the stray that’s been haunting the place since his first night back lurking in the yard, big brown eyes peering out from beneath an overgrown crepe myrtle bush, and grumbles.  “Man, don’t even.” 

  “Just saying.  You two looked plenty cozy to me,” T says.  His grin a little more genuine as he falls back into his old pattern of trying to wrestle a matching smile from Daryl’s reluctant lips.  “Right, Noah?” 

  The teen smirks.  Ducks his head and mumbles something indecipherable beneath his breath as he wisely leaves the two of them alone. 

  T shakes his head and offers him a hand.  “Kids these days.” 

  Daryl lets him pull him to a sitting position but waves him off from doing anything more.  In response, his old friend plants himself on the porch beside him and with the farmhouse’s weathered wall at their backs and a grove of towering pecan trees beyond the crumbling stone pathway, the tire swing swaying in the breeze, they lapse into a familiar sort of silence.  Just let each other be while they gather up their thoughts because it’s been a long time.  Too damn long.  Eventually, he just has to know.  “How’d you know where to find me?” 

  “Kids these days,” Dog repeats.  “They talk.” 

  “What kids?” Daryl asks, even though he has a pretty good inkling who before the question has fully left his mouth.  The boy?  Noah?  He’s a quiet sort, much like he’d been that age.  Observant.  And the little Greene girl that never strays too far from his side when she can help it?  Well, she ain’t loud exactly.  Not in your face confident like far too many of her little jerk classmates are, but she notices things, too.  Seen his truck coming and going as he passes her daddy’s farm every day.  Talks and knows some people that know some people and they talk, he’s sure.  Which leads him to wonder.  “Carol know?” 

  “That you bought this old place?  Don’t think so.  That you got trashed last night?  Probably, considering the way things went down between you and Soph yesterday.  Those two are tight.  ‘Specially since you…” 

  “Go ‘head.  Say it.  Ain’t like I don’t know I’m an asshole.”  He picks at his thumbnail.  Sighs as he tries to bury the all-too-fresh memory of the words ‘Phia had thrown at him like knives.  It’s an impossible task.  Because even now, he’s bleeding from the cuts.  Don’t know if he can stop the seeping before it becomes a hemorrhage.  Don’t know if he should even try because ultimately?  She’s not wrong.  No matter his reasons—reasons he’d once held to be valid and honorable—he’d still left.  Still broken the promises he’d made and hell.  He don’t want to think about it because all he can picture is her pretty little face.  Fierce and tear-stained as she’d landed gut punch after gut punch and as much as it’d hurt.  As much as it still goddamn hurts, he can’t help but be proud because she’s got her mama’s back just as much as Carol’s got hers and it’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty, those two.  No.  Those three, he reminds himself.  Feeling his throat close up and make it even harder to force the next words out.  “I left.  Abandoned them.  Right to hate me.  Don’t blame ‘em.” 

  “They don’t hate you.” 

  “Do,” he insists.  “Know what she said to me?  I thought you were dead.  I thought you were dead ‘cause no way would my daddy leave me.  How the fuck does she not hate me, Man?” 

  T takes his time answering and he looks just as torn up as Daryl feels.  “Soph.  Carol, too.  They’re hurt.  There’s a difference,” he tells him.  “That woman hated you, she wouldn’t have cared enough to check on you.” 

  “Carol called you?”  Hope flares in his chest.  Instant and bright before it fizzles away because there’s that look again.  The one full of sympathy that looks more like a grimace than anything.  That look told him she cared, yeah.  But not enough to outright refuse another man’s ring.  Put his back on.    

  “Went about it roundabout.  Reached out to your brother.  Then his crusty white ass called me,” T finally admits.

  “Merle?” Daryl scoffs.  Immediately regrets it when the pounding at his temples resumes.  “Merle called you?”   

  “Shocked me, too.” 

  “He’s changed.” 

  “Sounded like it.” 

  “Got himself a girl.  Enid.  Same age as ‘Phia.  Little older.  Real wiseass.”  Something resembling a laugh sneaks past his lips.  “Thought she got it from Merle but Karen ain’t all sugar sweet neither.”    

  “Reckon she wouldn’t be, getting with the likes of Merle,” T-Dog chuckles. 

  “Reckon you’re right,” Daryl admits.  He notices the kid out in the yard, trying to coax the mutt out of its hiding spot and into the open.  Swears beneath his breath and earns himself a frown from the man beside him in the process.  “What?  He makes friends with the damn flea bag, I’ll never get rid of it.” 

  “You feeding it?  Don’t even try to tell me you’re not.  Man, I seen that bag of food in the back of your truck.  You done splurged on the good stuff.  Might as well start thinking up names.” 

  “Pfft.” 

  “Think I’m kidding.” 

  “Stop,” Daryl mutters.  Resting his head back against the wall with a groan.  Letting his gritty eyes drift closed as a hard-fought smile twitches at his lips.  “How you know the kid?” he asks after a while. 

  “Remember Jacqui?” 

  His brow furrows in thought.  Eventually, he nods.  Eyes still shut against the beaming sun.  “Yeah.” 

  “Noah’s her cousin’s boy.  The one that lives up in Virginia?  Anyway.  They’ve been having trouble up there with a gang.  Calls themselves the Wolves.  His mama thought he might have a better chance of it making it down here in sleepy little King County.  She just didn’t figure on him falling into puppy love.  And I’m not talking about your furry friend over there.  Get my drift?” 

  “The little Greene girl?” 

  “Beth,” T confirms.  “Lives down the road a mile or so.  When the kid found out I was coming here, he up and volunteered to tag along.” 

  “Bet,” Daryl remarks.  Fumbling for the forgotten takeout bag when his stomach grumbles.  Pulling out a biscuit and unwrapping it, taking first a small, careful bite.  Then a much bigger bite when his stomach don’t rebel completely.  “Still don’t really explain how you know the kid.  Unless you and Jacqui…”  The shit-eating grin on Dog’s face answers the unasked question for him and he lowers the breakfast sandwich to his lap.  Wraps it and the bag back up and tucks it away for later.  “You and Jacqui?  Really?” 

  “What you mean really?”    

  “Nothing.  Just thought you two were friends.” 

  “We were.  We are.  I’m here to tell you, Man.  Sometimes those old sayings? They’re true.  Friends really do make the best…” 

  “That’s alright,” Daryl cuts him off.  “Get it.  I do.  M’happy for you.” 

  “Thanks.  Appreciate it.  Happy for you, too.”  When that comment earns him a raised brow, he clarifies.  “Happy you came to your senses and finally come home.” 

  “Well,” Daryl mutters as he watches him stand.  Dust off the seat of his pants.  This time when he offers him a hand up, he takes it.  Does the same.  “Might be the only one.” 

  “Don’t do that, Man.” 

  “Do what?”

  “Throw yourself a pity party.  Own your shit.” 

  “Own my shit?” Daryl echoes.  “You don’t even know the half of my shit.” 

  “Doesn’t matter.  Still the only way you’re going to be able to work toward making things right.”  

  He’s right.  Course he is.  Don’t make the words any easier for him to say.  It just isn’t the Dixon way.  So he dips his head in deference.  Casts his gaze to T’s own truck, laden down with all the tools of his trade and an idea starts to form as he looks over the ramshackle old farmhouse.  One that the other man reads all over his face, no words necessary.  Sighs but offers to shake on it all the same.    

  “Gonna take lots of work.  Hard work.  Carol and those kids, though?” 

  “They’re worth fighting for.” 

[fire-dwelling]

Fire Force Chapter 126: ‘In the Shade of the Sun’

Translated from Japanese to Portuguese to English

Triggers for an adult abusing and torturing a child

Page 2

Narration: “Benimaru and Joker invaded the Church of the Sun’s Holy See! They entered a hidden underground passage and encountered a group, the Shadows of the Holy Sun!”

The cover image shows the Moon watching a bear in sneakers dragging or pushing a boy. The narration says “Bear Heart Boy” and “The Funny Fairy Tale!”

Page 3

Benimaru and Joker face the Shadows.

Page 4

Benimaru: “You were with them?”

Joker: “The Shadows of the Holy Sun…A group of assassins secretly belonging to the Church. They’re rotten.”

Shadow 1: “You are too worldly to step onto this sacred ground.”

Page 5

Joker: “How rude. I should’ve said, ‘I’ve returned.’”

Shadow 1: “What?”

Joker: “Does ‘52’ mean anything to you?”

Shadow 1: “It cannot be...You…”

Page 6

In a flashback, children are lined up in the Nether, supervised by a Captain.

Captain: “We are children of the sun. We surrender our bodies and live in the shadows. Raatomu.”

Later, a young Joker, or 52, engages in knife combat with Teen 1, an older and taller captive.

Page 7

52 moves so fast with ignition ability that he is already behind Teen 1.

Teen 1: “I...I surrender.”

Adult: “That’s enough, 52.”

Teen 2: “He’s strong.”

Teen 3: “And he’s just a brat.”

Teen 4: “Incredible, 52!”

52: “It was no big deal.”

Captain: “I will be your next opponent.”

Page 8

Captain: “Come at me with everything you have.”

Teen 5: “No, Captain--he can’t handle it.”

Captain: “What will it be, 52? Bring it.”

We cut to 52 already knocked down by the Captain.

Page 9

Captain: “You're nothing special. We are all orphans of the Sun, chosen by God. I don’t hold back against brats like you who think they're special.”

The Captain punches 52 again.

Captain: “Don’t get the wrong idea, brat.”

Teen 6: “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

Captain: “Trash like you, tossed away, with no chance at salvation...You can do no better...You can’t do anything...Don’t forget that.”

Page 10

Teen 6 tries to hold back the Captain.

Teen 6: “Stop, before you kill him.”

Captain: “Don’t be naive. No individual is special...Only the team matters.”

52: (thinking: “But everyone is different...I never thought anyone could be special. I just wanted to get stronger...Why is this world so stupid? If I only knew why, I could get stronger. If I don’t end up with all those who messed up, I could become stronger than anyone else...What will happen to this world? Why is this world so stupid?”)

Page 11

52 is healed and by himself, looking at a pocket watch.

52: (thinking: “This watch was with me when I was abandoned...It stopped at 3:32...Is that the time when I was abandoned? This watch is the only thing connecting me to that world…”)

Captain: “Again with that watch?”

Page 12

The Captain takes 52’s watch.

Captain: “Is this watch a memento of your parents?”

The Captain burns the watch.

Captain: “Our only parent is the Sun God...You have no family. I see I still need to teach you...Come to my room tonight.”

52 grimaces, pulling back to throw a punch.

Page 13

In the Captain’s room, 52 is bare, tied from the ceiling by fabric by his wrists. The Captain is also bare and holding a paddle.

Captain: “I’m not finished. Lift your hips. To make the country and the Church of the Sun beautiful and strong, they need dirty people like us. I'll make you suffer, down to the bone.”

Page 14

Later, a house is on fire. The Shadows in costume watch from afar as firefighters try to put it out. It’s the Kusakabe house.

Captain: “The Infernal Demon took the baby Sho Kusakabe...Find him and kill him.”

Shadow 1: “Captain! It’s 52…”

Captain: “?!”

Page 15

52 tries to catch his breath.

52: (thinking: “Right now, the Demon is distracting those Shadows. Now’s my chance to escape. The sun should shine on everyone, right? Please...Shine on me, too…My left eye...Now Burns, too…”)

Page 16

In the morning, 52 is collapsed on the street, asleep in his underclothes, having ditched the dark robes.

Young Woman: “Dad! There’s someone outside sleeping--he’s about my age.”

Father: “What?”

The family brings 52 inside, where he eats ravenously.

52: (with his mouth full) “I want to repay you…”

Mother: “Don’t...Don’t worry about that…”

Later, 52 is walking back to the house with a bag of groceries, before he spots two people in suits exiting.

Page 17

Inside, the young woman and her parents are bleeding and dead.

Joker: (narrating: “That's when I understood my situation: wherever I went, the light would never shine.”)

Page 18

In a sewer, two Shadows speak.

Shadow 2: “We just came from where 52 had gone.”

Shadow 3: “Did you break up the family?”

Shadow 2: “Yes.”

Shadow 3: “He left the group. Now he's alone. He’ll never follow our way again.”

Page 19

52, now Joker, stands atop a building under construction.

Joker: “This world sucks.”

Page 20

Now in the present…

Joker: “You taught me a lot. So now I want to teach you something, about the truth of this world.”

The Shadow removes a sword.

Shadow: “Were you feeling lonely? You poor puppy…”

Joker pulls off his cloak.

Page 21

Joker holds a flaming Ace of Hearts card.

Joker: “Eat shit.”

Narration: “Joker’s on the front line! He'll kick the shit out of these Shadows to uncover the truth of the world! To be continued in Chapter 127: ‘Front Ignition’!”

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 13: Family Bond

"You don't understand...my sister was always horrible to me! She pushed me around and she never deserved Jacob," Clorinda cried. At first, when she had been arrested for being in possession of Tisbe's missing necklace, she had been silent until Killian pressed her about how her sister was determined to save her husband's employees from his blackmail and extortion. Clorinda immediately had jumped in to defend Jacob and went off on her sister.

"When the plane disappeared, I didn't cry one tear! Jacob and I were happy and then she just waltzes back in like nothing had changed!" Clorinda confessed.

"Did Jacob tell her that he wanted a divorce?" Killian asked.

"N...no, because she was crazy and knew about his problems with his employees," Clorinda replied.

"You mean how he was extorting money from them through blackmail?" Killian asked, making her wince.

"He's not a bad man...he's not," she pleaded.

"It kind of sounds like he was content to still be married to Tisbe and have you on the side," Killian replied.

"It's not like that! He loves me! He hated that Tisbe came back!" she insisted.

"So...you killed her," Killian deduced. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"She was dead anyway! Whoever came back was not my sister!" she spat. At that point, her lawyer arrived and shut down the interrogation. Not that it mattered much. The district attorney would have enough to convict and a jury would likely see it that way as well.

Killian sighed, as he came out of the interrogation room where Emma stood waiting.

"Well...she confessed when we pressed her about the necklace. She and Jacob fell in love while she was gone, but apparently Tisbe was having none of that," he said.

"So she shot her," Emma deduced.

"Most likely…" he said, as he looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"It's just...you found those girls and now you happened to run right into Clorinda out on the streets," he replied. She gave him a withering look.

"I told you that I was looking for Lily's father. He was lost and confused and I found him," she replied.

"And it just happened to be Clorinda that almost ran him over," Killian said.

"What are you asking me?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"Clorinda said that her sister was a different person when she came back...and I would have to say the same about you," he mentioned.

"Look…I can't explain what happened to us. Something happened, but I don't know what. I'm not doing any of this...it's just happening," she said. He nodded, as he watched her go. He pulled Vance's card from his pocket. He would definitely want to know about this development, but despite seemingly having inside information from some source, he knew that Emma didn't have sinister intentions. He tore up Vance's card and tossed it in the trash. He didn't work for the NSA and certainly wasn't going to spy on Emma for them.

~*~

Emma unlocked Walsh's cell and let him out.

"Clorinda Taylor killed her sister, so you're free to go," Emma said.

"Yes...and in the process, I see you have owned your truth and accepted your place among the returned," Walsh praised. She sighed.

"No, I did my job and found the real killer. There's nothing special about me," she refuted.

"That's where you're wrong...and you know it. You've been reborn and you are enlightened. The rest of us can only dream of being one of the returned," he said.

"You can pick your things up at the desk," Emma said, as she left to go home and get some sleep. David had roped her into going to some dinner at Leopold Blanchard's house of all places tomorrow night. She had agreed, only on the chance that he really was up to no good and if he had Margaret in his sights again, Emma was going to be there to protect her family.

~*~

The next day, Margaret was practically giddy, as she packed a picnic basket full of sandwiches, fruits and veggies, chips, and cookies. It was their first Saturday together as a family and they planned to make the most of it. They were going to the park. The same park that was near the playground where they had met as children and near the woods where there was a bridge they used to frequent as well. It was a very special place for her and David. The small, rickety wooden bridge was where they had shared their first kiss, where they declared their love for each other, and even where he had proposed.

After the plane disappeared and on the one year anniversary of the disappearance, Margaret had gone there, but it had been too painful. She had been a mess and cried for hours sitting alone on that bridge. After that, she never went back and thought she never would again. But then the plane came back and gave everything back to her as quickly as it had taken it away.

"Come on you two...let's go," she called, as she closed the picnic basket and David picked it up for her.

"Wow...this thing weighs a ton. Did you invite an army to our picnic?" he teased and she kissed him tenderly.

"No...it's just us. Guess I did get a little carried away," she winced, but he smiled and kissed her again.

"I love that you get carried away," he said fondly.

"I...I just thought we'd never have a family picnic again. It doesn't seem like much...but I will never take it for granted again," she replied. He smiled.

"Neither will I," he said, as the kids hurried into the kitchen.

"Can we stop and get some kites?" Henry asked.

"Sure...that sounds like a lot of fun," David answered, as he carried the basket out. Margaret grabbed her keys and stepped out the door, only to find a couple of their neighbors there.

"Oh, Marcus and Cecelia...good to see you," she said.

"We just came over to check on you and make sure you're okay, you know with everything that's happened," the woman mentioned. Margaret beamed a smile.

"Everything is wonderful, but thank you," she replied.

"You're sure?" Marcus asked skeptically.

"Of course...I just got the love of my life back and my son. Why wouldn't things be okay?" she asked.

"Um...well, we have just heard that some of the people on that plane have come back...different," Ceceila mentioned.

"Yes...and we just wanted to make sure things are okay for you and Olive," Marcus added. Margaret wanted to think that their concern was real and she knew part of it probably was. They had always been nice, albeit a bit nosy and they had fallen on hard times in the last year. She suspected that the news vans that were still parked near the house had questioned them about any dirt they might have about them.

"I have my true love back and my son. The man I married is the man that returned to me, you can be assured of that," she said shortly.

"We're...we're sorry if we offended you," Marcus replied, a bit ashamed.

"I'm sure whatever payday the news station offered you is tempting and I can't tell you not to take it. So...whatever juicy lie you need to come up with to get your money makes no difference to me, because I know the truth and that is that my husband and I just got a second chance. My son's cancer now has a viable treatment and it's nothing short of a miracle. If that story doesn't work for them, then feel free to come up with something that will sell some newspapers," she said, as she walked toward the car.

"Everything okay?" David asked, as he shut the trunk and she kissed him.

"Everything is wonderful...just nosy neighbors," she replied.

"Ah...wondering if I'm an alien," he deduced, as he surprised her and kissed her passionately, while gently pushing her against the car. She lost herself in his kiss and slid her arms around his neck, as they enjoyed a mini makeout session.

"Might as well give them all something to gawk at," he said and she smiled, before they got into the car.

"Finally…I thought you guys were gonna make out all day," Olive complained without looking up from her phone. They chuckled.

"Just giving the reporters something to look at," he teased.

"Why would they want to look at you kissing Mom?" Henry asked.

"Because they think we're...different now," David replied. Neither he nor Margaret saw a reason to hide things from Henry. It was important that he knew to be leery of people now with everything that had happened.

"Like that weird lady?" he asked.

"Yes...though I think she thought we were good. I'm afraid there are going to be those that think we are now something sinister," Margaret warned him truthfully.

"I get it...but it's kind of dumb," Henry said bluntly. David chuckled, as he backed out of the driveway and they drove away.

"We agree, buddy, but some people don't understand and don't like people that are different. It's unfortunate and sometimes makes people do bad things. It's important that you are both careful and that you don't go places alone for a while," he advised, though most of that was directed at Olive, as they wouldn't let Henry go anywhere alone at his age even under normal circumstances.

"Is that why Leopold wants us to come now? You think it's a way to get himself in the news?" Olive asked. David and Margaret exchanged a glance. As usual, their daughter was sharp as a tack.

"Knowing him...probably, which is why we're going to his house for dinner. I'm giving him one more chance to not be a terrible person, but if he's got some sort of plan to make a spectacle of your father and your brother, then they're going to get a spectacle from me, but it won't exactly be what he wants," Margaret promised. David smirked at that.

"But enough of that. This is a family day and we're not going to let some nosy reporters spoil our day," Margaret said.

"Your mother is right...let's get those kites," he replied, as they were on their way.

~*~

Regina looked in the microscope again and then sighed. She didn't know why she kept looking. It wasn't going to change the results of what she had found. She, David, and Henry all had the protein in their blood. Then the results of her MRI were clear. Ischemic stroke. There was no getting around the correlation. It was entirely possible that this protein was connected to Ischemic stroke, which she needed to explain to David and Margaret. As she was about to call them, she saw her mother come in and sighed.

"Mother…I told you I would be there tonight," Regina said in annoyance.

"I know...I was just hoping you'd let me take you shopping for a dress. I know you're having to replace all your things," Cora said.

"Because you made Daddy donate all my stuff," she muttered.

"Believe it or not...we did that, because we were trying to move on," Cora said. Regina sighed.

"I know...I don't blame you for that," she replied.

"What has you so stressed?" Cora inquired.

"It's just...a patient. We can go," Regina said, as she removed her lab coat. It was Saturday, after all and she decided that this could probably wait. She would tell them when Henry came in for his treatment on Monday. She was still waiting to hear about Tisbe Taylor's body and if she could participate in the autopsy. Getting a look at a passenger brain could be really the only way to know what they were dealing with for sure. Cora smiled at her and they left.

~*~

Emma took a deep breath and knocked on Mal's door. She opened it and actually had a smile for the other woman.

"Emma...come in, please," she said.

"I just wanted to stop by and check on Zoran. How is he?" she asked.

"He's okay. He doesn't really remember yesterday at all and I think this time, it's better that way," Mal replied. She nodded in agreement.

"Listen Emma...I want you to know that I am really grateful for what you did last night. Zoran could have been killed if you hadn't found him," Mal said.

"I'm just glad I got there in time," Emma replied, as she sat down.

"I read the headlines. Looks like you also found a killer last night as well," Mal said.

"Uh yeah...dumb luck that the person that almost hit Zoran just happened to be the killer in an active investigation," Emma replied. Mal gave her a look.

"Emma...coincidences like that don't happen, even for a cop as good as you," she said. Emma sighed.

"You're different since you came back...make sure you use this second chance to make a difference," Mal advised. Emma nodded.

"I will," she promised, as Zoran came into the room.

"Oh, we have company," he said, as the two women exchanged a look.

"Yeah...I'm Emma. I'm a friend of Lily's," she said, as they shook hands.

"Oh...it's nice to meet you. Lily should be home soon," he said.

"Yes...maybe we can have some tea while we wait and get to know you," Mal suggested, as she went to the kitchen. Emma smiled and nodded. In Lily's absence, if she could bring them both just a little comfort in these sad times, then she wanted to do that for her best friend.

~*~

"Okay...go!" David said, as he handed the kite reel to his son and the wind caught it. Henry ran through the park with it and Olive followed him closely, while David and Margaret watched on fondly.

"It's okay...I can watch him. We're close to the bridge if you two want to take a walk," Olive told them.

"Are you sure?" Margaret asked.

"Course...the kid and I are fine," Olive replied.

"You know, it's not fair. I was born first and used to be older than you," Henry complained. She smirked.

"And now I get to be the boss of you, haha," she teased. David smiled.

"Okay...we won't be far," he said, as he joined hands with his wife and they strolled off.

"Good call," they heard Henry say.

"It's either that or we have to watch them make out again and no one wants that," they heard Olive say. They grinned at each other.

"She sounds just like Emma," he mentioned.

"Oh I know," she agreed, as they made their way to the bridge and the memories called to them.

~*~

7th Grade - 1992

David and Margaret sat on the bridge together with their heads resting against each other's. They both had been crying, which was understandable, since they had buried David's mother today.

"I miss her," Margaret said. He sniffed.

"Me too...but I know this would be a thousand times harder without you," he replied, making her blush slightly. She took his hand though and he looked at her, swallowing thickly. She was so beautiful.

"I...I know they tell us that we're too young to know what real love is, but they're wrong," he said. She smiled.

"They are," she agreed.

"I love you, MM...I have since the moment we met," he admitted, bringing tears to her eyes.

"Oh David...I love you too," she gushed. Her heart quickened, as he slowly leaned in and she closed her eyes. He pressed his lips softly to hers in a short, tender kiss. Margaret felt her heart flutter and butterflies in her stomach. Their lips parted and her eyes opened, meeting his and they shared a smile. Ruth was gone and his father had fallen off the wagon, but he knew he was going to make it, because he had her. He offered his hand to her and she took it, as they started for home. From now on, it was just them and Emma against the world.

~*~

"That day seems like so long ago…" he mentioned, as they smiled at the memory.

"You didn't even really ask me to officially be your girlfriend that day, but I just knew that's what we were," she replied.

"Officially, but I wanted you to be mine the moment I helped you cross the monkey bars when we were eight," he said. She giggled.

"I know, you picked snowdrops out of my mother's garden the next day and came to the door with them, roots and all," she said, as they laughed at the memory.

"My mother thought it was too adorable to scold you," she recalled.

"I couldn't help it. I knew you were a princess and I wanted to be your prince," he said.

"And you have been since," she replied, as he kissed her hand, admiring his mother's ring on her finger.

"I remember the night you put this on my finger too…" she said.

"We got a lot of dirty looks from people after that, considering we were only sixteen," he replied.

"And we couldn't have cared less. That night was amazing. You put your mother's ring on my finger and we made love for the first time that night," she recalled.

~*~

1996

"I can't believe he did that," Margaret lamented, as they walked to the bridge after school, hand in hand.

"I know...seeing you be pushed into the back of that car terrified me. I wondered for a minute if I'd ever see you again," he confessed, as they stopped on the bridge and only the sound of the babbling creek beneath them filled the air. He fidgeted with his mother's ring that was in his pocket nervously. She had left it to him with the instructions that he was to give it to the woman he wanted to marry and somehow, he knew his mother probably knew he would one day put it on Margaret's finger.

"Oh David...I was scared too. The thought of never seeing you again...it broke me a little," she said, as he took her in his arms and they kissed passionately. They may have only been sixteen, but that didn't mean their love wasn't real, despite what people thought.

"Then I hope you don't think I'm crazy with what I'm about to do," he said and she gasped, as he got down on one knee.

"I know we can't get married until we're adults and even if we get engaged now, we have to keep it secret," he said.

"But I'm okay with that...and I know we're young, but I want to marry you someday," he continued.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, as he presented the ring to her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed.

"What do you think?" she asked rhetorically, as she held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger. He stood up and they shared another passionate kiss.

"Come on...let's go home," she said, as they joined hands and walked home.

~*~

"Yeah...what a night," he recalled, as he was remembering that first night of passion.

"I know…" she gushed, as she slipped her arms around his waist and he kissed her hair.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight? I know how many bad memories your father brings up," he said, a little worried about her. She nodded.

"He does...but I need to know what he's up to. Call me crazy...but I just have this feeling that there is a reason we need to go," she replied.

"I would never call you crazy and have always trusted your instincts. Besides, I'm the one that hears voices in his head now," he joked.

"You're not crazy either...that voice saved two little girls. That voice might be the reason you and Henry came back to me," she reminded him. He smiled at her and kissed her again.

"Come on, we should get home and get ready for the dinner party," he suggested. She nodded and hugged his arm, as they walked back to get their kids. Whatever the evening held for them, they knew they would do whatever necessary to keep their family safe.

[naivety]

Blanket Forts and What-Ifs Are Beautiful Things

Spoilers for Season 4 in general, I guess??? I tried to write slumber party fluff but it quickly spiraled into an angst fest as always sorrynotsorry. Lots of comfort, snuggles, touching, and talking about pain yaaaay. Also, Clarke and Bellamy actually talk about Lexa please can they actually do that that would be nice. Anyways, enjoy. Or don’t. Idk.

Fandom: The 100 Words: 3202 Chapters: 1/1? Characters: Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake

On AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10260923 On fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12402548/1/Blanket-Forts-and-What-Ifs-Are-Beautiful-Things

A/N: So I wrote this to get through hiatus. A lot of feels, at lot of fluff, just some domestic angst and heaps of zero personal space. I'm such trash come be trash with me.

The lyrics are from Grace Vanderwaal's Beautiful Thing, which I 10/10 recommend you to listen to while reading this. It's such a perfect song for them I wanna die.

AU...ish?

Rated T for language? idk, i like my Rated T streak.

Dislcaimer: The 100 isn't mine obviously because good characters are still sad.

You think that you know my heart And you probably do So I'm always with you I could stay with you for hours In an empty room And never get bored Never have nothing to do

"Really?" he drones, leaning his head back to blink at her. Fingertips run through his hair a second time, working out the knots, and Clarke smiles, poking his scalp.

"Yes really." She starts tugging and pulling the section of hair above his ear in what he can only assume to be a braid or something similar, the sensation of her hands in his hair conjuring images of dark eyes, steady work, small fingers mimicking aged ones as Octavia is taught how to cut her brother's hair. She scowls when she cuts a strand too short, scissors held awkwardly, and he laughs because he knows it will bug her for days even though it's hardly noticeable on his bird's nest head. Mom smiles at the both of them and lets him braid Octavia's hair, correcting his minuscule mistakes with a quick word of advice—not so tight, Bell—while O asks him to tell her a story to pass the time.

She was so... bright.

He doesn't even notice he's closed his eyes until Clarke stills, hands resting in his hair. He opens one eye just in time to see her reach somewhere to the side and pull a sheet into her lap and over his face, snorting a laugh when he offers no reaction.

"Blanket fort time," she chirps, ankles moving out from under his head as she hops off the mattress, taking the sheet with her. He watches her from his spot leaning against the bed, silent as she drags the chair from the desk to about a foot in front of him and throws the sheet over it, himself, and the edge of the bed. It floats down on his head and around his shoulders like a cocoon. Yeah, they're gonna need another chair.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he starts, blinking dumbly at the fabric lying over his face. "but this isn't exactly what I would call a 'fort'."

He hears a playful sigh and footsteps moving away. "I'll be right back," she says, her solid presence leaving with the sound of her bare feet against the floor.

He doesn't bother moving, the confines of the sheet warming his chilled skin and making him feel secure.

He thinks of Octavia, hollow eyes, clenched jaw, haunted, strong, watching him like he's a stranger, like she's a stranger to him. As if all she has is her mere existence, and it makes him ache. Every glance met with her gaze retreating, every time it's her cold shoulder facing him instead of her eyes, the way her hands clench to fists when he steps too close, cold hands, cold face, cold eyes, piercing like blades, like knuckles digging into his skin.

He misses her. Her smile, her fire, warm instead of cold flames in her eyes, strong to protect instead of harm. He misses her happiness more than he misses his own.

The sheet feels more stifling than secure now. He tugs it off, wiping a hand through his hair and down his face. He lingers over his eyelids, pressing his fingertips into their sockets before dropping his hand back into his lap.

The door suddenly shifts, clanking, and he flinches, gaze jerking to the movement as a figure steps in, blond hair hiding a familiar face as it closes the door behind.

She's carrying a folding chair against her chest, and a second blanket pinched between.

"Hey." She hurries over to him, situating the new chair to his left while moving the other one further to his right. The extra blanket is dropped in front of him while she presses herself against the edge of the bed, flopping onto it to reach for the two pillows at the other end. With a grunt, she straightens, tossing the pillows next to the blankets and taking a step back.

"I think I got everything." A pause, her arms crossing over her middle as she examines her work. "Oh," she mutters, pattering over to the desk to grab the battery-powered lantern set there. "Almost forgot."

She smiles at him and he feels a smile of his own pull at his lips.

"Okay, up-up, mister," she says and he obeys, albeit with an amused arc of his brow. She places one of the pillows where he used to be, and the second one at its side. A few books snatched from the nearby shelf later and the sheet is held in place over the chairs and the edge of the bed, creating a small but big enough den to fit the both of them. Clarke crawls in first, dragging the extra blanket in after her.

"Hand me the lantern," she asks, hand sticking out from the opening expectantly. He hurries to comply, placing it between her fingers and peeking inside when she grabs onto it. She sets the lantern near the pillows and seats herself on one of them, patting the second one. "Come on in, Blake."

He gives a small grin, awkwardly crawling in and sitting next to her, legs crossed and arms held close to himself.

"Cozy," he quips, watching absently as Clarke tries and fails to snap the blanket over them, settling to just pull it across their laps and up to her chin.

Her eyes sparkle and it makes something loosen in his chest.

She pokes his arm. "You feel cold." As if to embellish her point, she pinches the edge of the blanket near him and pulls it up toward his face to match her. He resists rolling his eyes, but takes it from her and holds in there anyway.

"Happy?"

"Yes," she nods, snuggling further into their cocoon and inching closer to him. "So. What were you thinking about earlier?"

His eyebrows twitch.

"...Earlier?"

"When I was playing with your hair."

Oh. He should have known she would notice. Nostalgia never looked good on him anyway.

"...My mom. She used to cut my hair," he explains quietly, watching for her reaction. A softening of her eyes, a sad tilt of her lips.

"My dad used to cut mine," she replies with a minuscule lull of her head. "What was your mom like?"

A sigh tugs at his shoulders and he leans into the mattress at his back, thinking of her gentle look that often fooled everyone but him and Octavia. "She was... fire." Clarke smiles at that. "Small, like Octavia. But just as strong... She was a survivor. She would’ve done well down here..."

He gives himself a moment to ponder the idea of his mom being on earth with them, but is quick to dismiss it. The ground is in many ways worse than the Ark. Besides... what-ifs didn't look good on him either.

"What about your dad?"

She purses her lips and leans back as well, gaze flicking around in thought. "...If your mom was fire, my dad was water... Strong and sure and steady. He was... always there for me," she finishes by quirking her head in his direction, a sad smile adorning her features, fond. "Kind of like you," she adds, shoulder bumping his, causing him to start.

For a few seconds, all he does is stare, thoughts fizzling out as he processes her words.

Anyone who knew Clarke knew she loved her dad. You could scarcely think of anyone else she held in higher esteem. He was the backdrop to her leadership, her strength, her conviction. The foundation of who she was today, the person who they'd all be dead without.

And to think Clarke would even compare...

He looks away—at the floor, at the blanket, at the lantern.

"Hey," she prompts, nudging him until he meets her eyes. "It's true. I... I don't know if I could have made it this far without your help." She smiles, again, soft around the edges and honest. "Thank you... And I know I—I haven't always been there. For you. When you needed me." There's an apology in her eyes. "I don't know if I would have... done things differently. To cope with..." A breath. "But I should have tried harder to be there for you just as much as you've been there for me."

He simply stares, studying her expression.

Why does she always have to be so... earnest. A heart wide enough to care so aggressively about everyone but herself, yet put in circumstances that cage her capacity to care by forcing her to make decisions that result in death on one end or another...

The world is cruel.

"You did good, Clarke," he says, low, repeating her words from another time, kept secret by the sheet hanging over their heads. "The choices you were given were absolute shit, but... you did your best with what you had. And that's all we can ever do." He pauses, searching for the right words. Octavia always said he was bad at this sort of thing. Caring about more than just his blood. "Don't... Don't let anyone judge you for something they could never understand. Not even me."

She straightens a little and nods, eyes reflecting the bloom of affection in his chest.

Too much emotion in too small a place.

He clears his throat and glances at the lantern again.

"And don't sell yourself short. You're not a completely horrible friend." He half-grins at her as she scoffs at him, lightly shoving herself off his shoulder.

"You're an ass," she huffs back, her smile briefly showing teeth.

"You were there when Dax tried to kill me, you convinced Jaha to pardon my assassination attempt. You challenged me to think differently, to lead differently. You helped our people survive the ground. Food, water, shelter, medicine. Mount Weather. War. A.L.I.E... Clarke, don't think for one second we could have done all of that without you."

She clenches her jaw and it's her gaze that retreats this time, eyes shuttered, but he can see she's chewing on his words, thoughtful, even though she wants to deny them.

"You deserve peace as much as the rest of them."

She glances sideways at him. He half-smiles for her benefit, willing her to accept what he's saying. Octavia—even Clarke—said he had a way with words, but that never seemed to be true for the people he wanted to reach the most.

"Maybe we can..." she begins, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders and subtly scooting closer to him. "...try to believe that together."

He huffs a quiet laugh, eyeing her. "Fair enough."

A few minutes pass as she sinks further and further into the blanket and Bellamy's side. Everything feels warm and safe for once.

"We're gonna be okay," she says with as much conviction as she can muster, though it comes out shaky at best. Instinctively, she reaches out underneath the blanket and skims his arm, following it down until she finds his hand, folding her fingers between his and squeezing. The warmth of his grasp squeezes back.

"Yeah," he mutters, eyes distant. She wonders how much either of them believe it, but maybe if they say it enough, they eventually will. Someday. When yet another apocalypse isn't on the horizon.

"What would you do if... if war and the end of the world weren't immediate possibilities?" She almost laughs, bitter. How long have they been facing death since before they even touched the ground? Probably not as long as it feels. "If it was... safe?" she finishes, wondering aloud, thumb gliding up and down his pointer finger distractedly. She also wonders when physical contact started to mean so much to her. Maybe it was when she lost her father, then Finn, then Lexa, and so many others after and in-between... Sometimes she just needs to feel that people she cares about are still there. Still alive. Still breathing.

After no response, she lifts her head from his shoulder to study his expression—thoughtful, blank... tired. She feels a pang of longing; to replace his expression with something lighter, brighter, something that will last and make him smile more. If she could just... help.

They could help each other. Together.

"I don't know," he says finally, voice thin, dry, and she winces in sympathy. A soft cough, to clear his throat, and he swallows. "I haven't really thought about it... You?"

Not entirely satisfied, she slowly lowers her head back to his shoulder and blinks drowsily, thoughts churning. "Start drawing again," slips from her mouth before she can even process it. She feels Bellamy shift beside her.

She really did miss drawing.

"What would you draw?" His voice rumbles, muffled in her ear pressed against his shirt.

"Arkadia. Monty and Jasper, smiling... Harper, Miller, Bryan. Maya. Raven and Finn. Monroe... Charlotte... Octavia, with Lincoln," she rambles, pausing to reassure him by pressing gently on his knuckles. "Hell, even Murphy. Everyone. All of us... Happy."

They deserve to be happy.

"Anya," she continues, thinking of the enigma of a woman. "Titus. Gustus. Aden."

"Lexa?" he inquires, soft, curious. She feels her breath catch in her throat and she swallows it down.

"Yeah... Lexa."

Green eyes, soft lips, smooth skin. Ink patterned down a spine, a smile that's too bright and genuine to describe. Brunette waves, pinned up in battle, cascading down in yellow sunlight. The Commander, strong and guarded, vulnerable and happy. A heart too kind for this earth without walls of stone to protect it. Walls that Clarke was privileged enough to see behind.

A single pencil isn't enough to fully capture someone like Lexa.

Bellamy's deep breath breaks her from her thoughts, followed by the words she can feel hovering on the tip of his tongue.

"If... If you need to talk about it-"

"I know," she interjects, not unkindly.

Did she know? She knew Bellamy never forgave Lexa for abandoning their people in Mount Weather, nor did she expect him to. So talking to him... about Lexa hadn't really entered her mind. Maybe in another world, they might have actually gotten along. The mutual respect of soldiers.

"She..." Her thoughts clog in her throat, scattered, stuck to her teeth. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know why she needs to say anything. Maybe it's because she never really got to talk to anyone about it. Maybe it's because her death is still a ghost at her heels. Maybe it's because, in the stupid makeshift fort, sitting on a pillow, bundled in a blanket with her best friend, she feels safe.

"She just wanted what was best for her people," she whispers, almost as if she's just talking to the air, under the scrutiny of no one but her own thoughts.

"...I know."

She clings tighter to his hand.

"She died because of me," she finds herself saying through a sharp inhale, struggling to center herself. "She died because she cared about me."

"Hey." It's too loud in their quiet little tent and it silences her rushing thoughts for just a moment. Bellamy's other hand covers hers, sandwiching it between his gentle but firm grasp, warm, calming. "You loved her... And she loved you."

"I-I don't-"

"She loved you, Clarke. And she wouldn't want you to blame yourself. For any of it."

She nods, pressing her eyes closed, trying her best to believe it. She knows he's right. It should be simple, a process of grief just like with everyone else, just like she's been through time and time again.

But why does it keep happening? Why does everyone have to keep dying? Because of her?

"You listening?"

"Yes," she forces out, blinking her eyes open and staring at the chair across from her. "Yes, I'm listening."

"...Not everything is your fault, Clarke."

She knows. With her head, she knows. She just needs her heart to believe it.

"You're so focused on everyone else all the time... Try to do something for yourself for once. It's not selfish to want to be happy." She stills, caught in the sound of his voice. It's close to raw, but quiet, soft, a hint vulnerability, genuine... She believes him, she realizes. She can trust him. It's easy to know what is or isn't selfish. Belief is a different story filled with shattered guilt and pain, day and night, every waking moment.

But she believes him.

"Okay," she agrees. For her father. For Finn. For Lexa. For herself. "I will."

Bellamy takes a deep breath, muscles she hadn't even realized were tense loosening. "Good."

His hands stay enveloped around hers.

"...So, what else will you draw?" He sounds hesitant, but sure at the same time.

What else will she draw?

She untangles her hand from his and scoots away, trying not to think too much about the way she catches his lips thinning, his arms hurrying to draw toward himself as if he's done something wrong, eyes guarded and looking away. A smile plays on her face as she continues her movements, re-positioning herself so she's facing away only to lean back until her head is nestled between his stomach and his thigh. The blanket is awkwardly still covering his lap and her body from her chin down without covering her face, partly twisted and pinned beneath her back, but she gets comfortable, watching the way his thoughts stutter behind his eyes.

"You," she says simply.

"What?" He blinks a few times, hands, uncertain, lowering next to her head. She reaches out from under her cover to grab one of them and hold against her chest, mimicking his position of both hands surrounding one. His fingers tighten around hers.

"I'll draw you," she answers honestly, imaging what he would look like on paper. All sharp strokes and soft angles.

A smile flickers across his face.

She likes his smile, small and real, expressing an emotion he doesn't get to feel enough of. She'll get him to feel it more. Like a game.

Maybe they can both learn to feel it more. To smile more. Together.

She will draw his smile. And maybe even hers too.

You're my other half You're what makes me me What makes me smile When I fall down and can't get back, get back, get back up On my feet

Without you here I am boring Something inside you is triggering It makes me myself Makes me funny, you're a beautiful thing

A/N: help me i love them. give me all the queerplatonic-but-can-be-romantic-too Bellarke feels. Leave a review to continue my suffering. Love you aaall.

[shreddingcompanies-blog]

Why is recycling important?

When you throw things away, you might be really delighted to obtain eliminate it: into the trash it goes, never ever to be seen once again! Regrettably, that's not completion of the tale. The things we throw away need to go somewhere-- generally they go off to be bulldozed underground in a garbage dump or charred in a burner. Land fills could be badly contaminating. They look dreadful, they have an odor, they use up space that can be utilized for far better points, and they often produce poisonous dirt as well as water contamination that could kill fish in our rivers and seas.

One of the worst things about garbage dumps is that they're losing a huge quantity of possibly beneficial product. It takes a great deal of power as well as a lot of resources making points and when we throw those things in a land fill, at the end of their lives, we're additionally biding farewell to all the energy as well as sources they contain. Some authorities like to shed their trash in giant burners rather than burying it in landfills. That absolutely has benefits: it reduces the quantity of waste that has to be buried as well as it could produce valuable energy. However it can likewise produce poisonous air pollution and also burning nearly anything (other than plants that have expanded really just recently) adds to the problem of international warming as well as climate change.

The problem is, we're all in the behavior of tossing stuff away. In the early component of the 20th century, individuals used products a lot more carefully-- especially in The second world war (1939-- 1945), when lots of raw materials remained in brief supply. [2] But in recent years we have actually become an extremely disposable society. We have the tendency to acquire brand-new things instead of aging ones repaired. A great deal of guys make use of disposable razors, for instance, rather than buying multiple-use ones, while a lot of ladies wear disposable nylon stockings. Partly this is to do with the sheer ease of throwaway products. It's also due to the fact that they economical: synthetic plastics, made from petroleum-based materials, became very cost-effective and commonly readily available after the end of The second world war. But that wasteful period in our history is coming to an end.

We're ultimately beginning to realize that our live-now, pay-later way of living is accumulating issues for future generations. Planet is soon mosting likely to be running on empty if we continue as we are. Americans stay in much higher wealth compared to essentially any person else on Earth. Exactly what takes place when individuals in establishing nations such as India as well as China determine they want to live similarly as us? Inning accordance with the ecologists Paul Hawken, Amory Lovins, and also Seeker Lovins, we would certainly need two Earths to satisfy all their requirements. If everyone on Earth increases their standard of life in the next 40 years, we'll require 12 Earths to please them! [3]

Why should you reuse?

If every person minimized, recycled, and recycled, we can make Planet's resources go a terrible great deal additionally. Recycling saves products, lowers the should garbage dump and incinerate, lower contamination, and also aids to make the atmosphere a lot more attractive. It likewise develops jobs, because recycling points takes a little bit a lot more effort compared to making new points. Reusing does not just save materials: it saves energy also. Production points uses a lot of energy from nuclear power plant-- as well as hungry power plants usually make worldwide warming even worse. We could conserve an unusual amount of energy by reusing. If you reuse a solitary aluminum can you save regarding 95 percent of the power it would require to make a brand new one. [4] That's enough power conserved to power your tv for regarding 3 hrs! [5] You'll frequently hear individuals state that over half the garbage we discard can be recycled. Considering the chart below, you could see that we presently recycle someplace between 30-- 90 percent of the numerous different products we make use of. Simply envision if everyone were reusing a lot of their rubbish: together, we 'd be making an incredible decrease in the quantity of resources and also energy we utilize-- and also doing a great deal of good for the planet.

What are the different ways of recycling?

Tossing points away is a poor behavior; recycling them is a good practice. Recycling isn't really all that difficult: it's merely an issue of changing your behavior. Almost speaking, reusing happens in one of two means. Either your local government authority prepares a door-to-door collection (this is occasionally called curbside recycling) or you take your recycled products along to a neighborhood recycling facility and also position them in different containers.

The crucial difference in between a bag of garbage and also a bag of important, recyclable waste is that the garbage is all blended together and also the recyclable waste is ironed out as well as divided. If you have a curbside reusing plan, you could be provided a recycling box right into which you could position particular kinds of waste (probably steel containers, glass containers, plastics, as well as papers) however not others. When the box is gathered, it might be figured out at the visual. People on the truck will certainly require time to sort through your box as well as placed various products right into different big boxes inside the truck. So, when the truck arrives at the reusing terminal, the waste will certainly currently be sorted.

Conversely, you might see your whole box being tipped right into the vehicle with no kind of sorting. The truck then takes your waste to a various sort of recycling terminal called a MURF, which means Products Recycling Center (MRF), where it is arranged partly manually and also partly by device (this type of recycling is likewise called single-stream or comingled). If you don't have curbside recycling, it helps to iron out your waste and store it in separate bags or boxes before you take it to the recycling center. (For instance, you could rinse food tins and glass containers and keep them in separate plastic bags.).

Cooking area as well as yard waste.

You can recycle as much as half your kitchen as well as garden waste by making your own garden compost-- a rich, crumbly, earthlike material that creates when organic (carbon-based) products biodegrade (are broken down by worms as well as bacteria). Compost is wonderful for utilizing on your yard: it returns nutrients to the soil that help your plants to expand. Making your personal is much cheaper than acquiring compost at a yard facility; it's likewise much better for the environment compared to using peat, which is an endangered environment. Making garden compost, you will certainly need a compost pile or a big container of some kind in your yard or lawn. Composting is clearly much easier if you have a yard compared to if you have a house on the 23rd floor of a skyscraper! However even in cities, some authorities prepare collections of eco-friendly waste and make garden compost at a central area. It can take anything from a couple of months to a year or more for waste to rot down as well as become garden compost. Usually, you need to include an equivalent mixture of "eco-friendlies" (vegetable scraps, dead flowers, lawn cuttings, and more) and "browns" (wrecked cardboard, little twigs, shredded paper, and that example).

Paper and cardboard.

In the very early 1970s, copy machine suppliers obtained scared that we would certainly quit making use of paper and also become a "paperless society." Not much possibility of that! Over 4 decades later on, the problem is that we're producing extra paper than ever before. However fortunately is that we're reusing a lot more as well. Unlike some materials, paper could be recycled just numerous times. That's because it's made from plant fibers that come to be much shorter during paper-making. When they're also short, they no more make respectable paper. In practice, this means some brand-new paper constantly needs to be included throughout the papermaking procedure.

One problem with reusing paper is that not all paper is the same. White office printer paper is made of a lot better raw material compared to the paper towels you'll find in a factory washroom. The greater the quality of paper waste, the better the top quality of recycled items it could be made use of making. So state-of-the-art white paper accumulated from offices could be made use of to make even more top-quality white recycled paper. But a mix of old newspapers, office paper, junk mail, and also cardboard could normally be utilized just to earn lower-grade paper products such as "newspaper" (the low-grade paper on which papers are printed). Corrugated cardboard (which is held together with glue) is more difficult to recycle than the slim cardboard used to package grocery stores.

Waste records are generally covered in ink, which has to be gotten rid of prior to paper could be recycled. Using bleach to de-ink documents could be an ecologically harmful process and it generates poisonous ink wastes that need to be gotten rid of in some way. So, although reusing paper has many benefits, it comes with environmental expenses also.

Steel.

A lot of the metal we throw out in your home comes from food as well as beverage cans and aerosols. Generally food containers are made from steel, which could be melted down and turned into new food containers. Drinks cans are typically thinner and lighter as well as made from light weight aluminum, which could likewise be recycled very easily. Mining light weight aluminum is an extremely energy-intensive and also ecologically harmful procedure. That's why waste aluminum containers have a relatively high worth as well as why recycling them is such a good thing to do.

Timber.

People have been recycling this traditional, lasting material for as long as human background. Waste timber is frequently turned into new wooden items-- such as recycled wood flooring or yard outdoor decking. Old wood railroad sleepers (now extensively changed by concrete) are in some cases used as building timbers in houses as well as gardens. Waste wood could additionally be shredded and stuck with adhesives to earn composite timbers such as laminates. It could additionally be composted or burned as a fuel.

Glass.

Glass is really simple to reuse; waste containers and jars can be thawed down and also utilized again and again. You merely throw old glass into the furnace with the components you're utilizing making brand-new glass. Bottle banks (huge containers where waste glass is accumulated) were the original examples of community recycling in several countries.

Photo: Glass is loaded right into a crusher to compact it prepared for recycling. Image by A. Sanchez, thanks to Defense Images.

Oil.

Waste oil from vehicle as well as automobile engines creates big environmental problems if you tip it down the tubes. It contaminates our rivers and also seas, the wildlife that rely on them, or even the water we drink. If you take your waste oil along to a reusing facility, it not only maintains our rivers clean-- it can also be reprocessed into new items such as heating oil. Waste veggie oils (made by frying food, as an example) could be transformeded into a valuable type of automobile gas called biodiesel.

Plastics.

Of all the various products we throw in the trash, plastics trigger by much the most significant problem. They last a long time in the atmosphere without damaging down-- occasionally as high as 500 years. They're really light and also they float, so plastic litter wanders across the oceans and also washes up on our coastlines, eliminating wildlife and also marking the shoreline. The only trouble is, plastics are fairly tough to reuse. There are many different sort of plastic and they all have to be recycled in a different way. There's a lot plastic concerning that waste plastic product does not have much worth, so it's not constantly financial to collect. Plastic containers additionally have the tendency to be huge and, unless people squash them, promptly fill out reusing containers.

All told, plastics are a little an ecological nightmare-- yet that's all the more reason we need to make an effort to reuse them! Various plastics could be recycled in different methods. Plastic beverages bottles are usually made from a kind of clear plastic called PET DOG (polyethylene terephthalate) and also could be transformeded into such points as fabric insulation (for thermal jackets and also resting bags). Milk containers have the tendency to be made from a thicker, opaque plastic called HDPE (high-density polyethylene) and also can be recycled into more durable products like flower pots and plastic pipes.

Another remedy to the issue might be to use bioplastics, which declare to be extra environmentally friendly.