#picking him up from the ground with trash pickers

[hyunpic]

240710 hynjinnnn instagram update

[charlilovesknights]

unreliable narrorator Y/n doing a school project on the Thorn General or whatever they called him

The Amazing Biography of The Valley's Loyal General (With pictures!!) Written by Y/N!

[!!REQUESTS OPEN!! Characters: {Y/N}(Written first person), Grim(Briefly), Mozus Trein, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia, Gargoyle, Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech(Briefly) Word Count:1,342 Warnings/Spoilers: ooc-ness (since the narrator is *unreliable*), A joke about emo stereotypes (Not all emos follow the stereotypes and I don't mean any harm by it. Shoutout to all my emos reading this) Also somehow no spoilers Extra: Y/N stands for Your Name, E/C stands for eye color

It was a gloomy morning in Homeroom, my classmates sluggish, the desks on fire, Grim hungry, demons rising from portals, my air pods dead, oh it was absolutely dreadful! I was about to die!

However...Trein-Sensei's words sparked life in my dull {E/C} eyes. A massive homework assignment!! Now I hate homework, especially big projects, but this one was amazing! A biography on any historical figure from the Valley Of Thorns War back in the day. He wrote down the list of people available on the board, but I already knew who I wanted. The mysterious Right General of Briar Valley (Pretend it's sparkly I lost my glitter pen) Not the Queens, not the Left General, not the legendary Man of Iron (or was it steel?) The Right General! He was so intriguing. How was he so known yet such an enigma? I was going to find out. But I had competition. Lilia also wanted to do his project on the General. I couldn't let him snag this opportunity from me. I played it civil when I first heard of his plans. I humbly asked to take the General for my essay, but he refused! I am an amazing charmer, and I tried working my magic, but he just wouldn't budge! So I had no other choice....I challenged him to A DUEL!! (DUNDUNDUN!!) We met at the courtyard in the afternoon. I came ready to fight. I wouldn't let this weirdo beat me. (Before you come at me, he literally picks his nose, THAT'S WEIRD!!) I had my sword and my legendary gear which I got from my Great Grandfather. He said I was destined for something big, and this was it! Lilia had his own gear he must have gotten from his housewarden or something, but it couldn't top mine. Everyone came out to watch our duel. We both unsheathed our blades and charged at each other. The crowd cheered my name (I'm a famous warrior of course it's expected)! We dueled fought with all our might, but...he had defeated me! I laid on the ground, beaten and bruised. I looked up at my opponent, who roared laughing. It lasted for what felt like eternity. (It was only like a few seconds but for dramatic effect Sensei!!) "This means The General is mine." He eventually spoke. I glared up at him. How could I lose to an old man? (No offense I know you're old too) One who's...Emo? (No offense to emos!!) He must've had his teen angst and rock music powers stored up to trash me. Bested by someone who wears 5 pounds of eyeshadow everyday...blech. I didn't speak... I couldn't... I was embarrassed in front of the whole school.... He laughed again.... No! I couldn't let this twink beat me!! (Don't google what twink means). I kicked him in his balls and rained victorious! He begged for mercy, and I gave it to him. (I can make any man beg, especially the stupid kind)

So, the Right General Of Briar Valley was mine!! And I already knew where I could get my first bit of information...A source no stupid nose picker had... Malleus Draconia! (Or as I like to call him, Tsunotaoru [Hornton]) (Okay yes now I notice Lilia literally is his bestiepoo (or something.) But still!! For dramatic effect!!) According to my math he must've met the General at least once in his life. He's the heir to the thrown throne after all. The General is still alive both had the time to interact. 18 years to! (I think Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton](pronounce it with o) is that age) So it was perfect!! I set up an interview in the library. He was willing to answer my questions.

He answered all of them!! It was perfect!! I told you Tsunibuni [Horntonwornton] would be of use!! Though it did take some persuasion... "Where'd you hide the body?" I queried. "I'm not telling you that." He protested. "Are you sure? What if I.....Hurt your precious gargoyles" I said as I picked up a massive gargoyle and held my legendary sword to it's throat. It looked at Mallypoo with tears in it's eyes. "Y-you wouldn't..." He stuttered. "A-ANYTHING BUT THAT!!" (I told you I can make any man beg) "Oh I would." I smirked and brought the dagger closer. "Poor little gargoy won't make it out of this alive." "NO! FINE, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW!! BUT PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT HURTING MY PRECIOUS POOKIEWOOKIEBEAR!! MY SWEETHEART!! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!" Of course, he didn't have the answer to everything, so I did have to hit the books. I hit them with a stick. It wasn't effective. Don't know why. Maybe I did it wrong? Or did I have to use something other than a stick? Oh well... My last option... GOOGLE!! But I was running short on time and the Wi-Fi was down...so I had to contact a good ol pal of mine. The first real Android...

Ortho Shroud.

I called Ortho up and raced out the door. He answered right away but there was one problem... He was busy getting Idia out of bed. He was sad about some sort of gambling game. So I made my lil broski a deal. I'd wake his brother up and he'd let me use his search engine. So I ran to Ignyhyde!! Once I got there he was waiting outside for me. He quickly thanked me and took me to Idia's room. (It was so messy, and it smelled like unwashed shut in, it was disgusting) But I was determined to help him out!

I tried everything! Shaking him, screaming, promising him ice cream, nothing! He was a stubborn fire boy. So, I had one option left... Water. So, I really didn't think this through, but I guess his fire hair goes out so.... I MADE HIM BALD

That was not what I wanted to do! I swear! He was mortified! I know I'd be too if I lost all my hair... I didn't know what to do! I panicked!! But luckily, I figured out what to do with the help of Ortho. However...It involved Idia leaving his room... Which was hard to do. So, I did the same thing to Idia as I did Malleus. "Come with us or-... Hatsune Miku gets it!" "NO! ANYTNING BUT HATSUNE MIKU!" It was a piece of cake.

One hoodie later and we rushed to the one place where all our problems could be solved. Mostro Lounge. Azul's known to grant people wishes. Once we got inside Jade led us to a table, but we had to order drinks before Azul would see us. Of course we did, they have an awesome Mostro Lounge x Mystery Shack drink. Idia said they needed a ship name. I don't know what he meant, no boats were involved. After getting our drinks eventually we were allowed to see Azul. Ortho reassured his brother as we entered the octopus's office. Now I know what you're thinking... He's a sketchy man and it'll be hard to get his hair back for a fair price. So, how'd we get out of this without anemones on our head? Well, I don't know. I had to finish writing this paper before tomorrow and I didn't have time to sit and do business deals. Therefore, I left them. (Don't judge me!! This was a big assignment!) So how did I get the information I needed? Well... I read the books. That's a way better method then hitting them. Learned that the hard way...And hours later I had all the information I needed to write the essay! The end

"{Y/N}.... The assignment was a 5 paragraph essay on a historical figure. That's not what this is." Trein said as he slid the paper back over to me. "WHAT?! BUT THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT! IT'S ENTERTAINING!" I shouted back. "Half of this stuff didn't even happen." "Well, dramatic effects!!" "Redo this." "Hmph... Fine."

WOW, WILD RIDE!! YOU MADE IT TOO THE END THO!! I LOVE THIS Y/N CREATURE I MIGHT MAKE AN OC OUT OF THEM ONE DAY!! That's for the future tho rn I gotta add tags and post this. Comments appreciated My requests are open Thanks for reading Byebye!!

[oyesmendes]

It was you

a/n: LOLOL did a something something with this piece. if you don’t like Camila or whatever it is you should turn around and walk away. 

summary: Y/N and Shawn? Childhood best friends, once upon a time high school sweethearts. Shawn and Camila? an unbreakable couple. what happens when Shawn pulls the trigger and comes running back to her?

The small get together back home in Pickering was what Y/N had expected - a couple of friends in the backyard of her childhood home, huddled around a bonfire surrounded by way too many beer bottles that it almost looked dangerous. Everyone was finally back in town together and they wanted to reminisce the old times, as well as get to know one another’s partners. Well at least that was what Shawn described it to be when he suggested it. Truth is, it was just an excuse to see how Y/N was doing and to see if she’s moved on. The pair dated for three years before Shawn let his suppressed feelings about Camila run wild in his third album. He played the songs for Y/N to hear for the first time back in 2017, and that was the day that she realised she wasn’t his muse anymore. The breakup was calm, both of them knew what was coming and they agreed to remain as friends for the sake of their childhood friend group, and for the sake of Y/N’s friendship with Camila. Shawn moved on quick, jumping straight into Camila’s arms and everything went on high speed from then on. His relationship was very public, the paparazzi catching on to their every move while Y/N stayed in the dark. She was well known in the same industry, producing top quality music for some artists. There had been rumours of her being in a relationship, but Y/N kept quiet about them. 

Shawn never reached out even when these unwanted rumours came rolling out, fearing that he would upset her. He realised much later in his relationship with Camila, that some people were just meant to stay friends no matter the amount of attraction going on between them. He could only think about her, and he wanted to confirm if these rumours were true, wanted to see if he still had her heart like she held his and this was the right time for it. Unfortunately for him though, Y/N didn’t bring her new boyfriend home. He was stuck in a meeting somewhere in New York but his lack of appearance just led Shawn to think she was still single, still trying to move on. And in his defence, she never mentioned a boyfriend either so it wasn’t wrong to assume that she didn’t have one. So now here they were, the group sprawled on the outdoor seating every member growing even more tipsy as the minutes passed by them.

“Remember when he cycled all the way down the street and tried to do a ridiculous trick on his bike and fell straight on his face!” The group was sent into a hysterical laughter, recalling some of their early childhood memories.

“Oh come on, I was only ten! Give me a break already” Brian whined while the rest of the crew were crying in laughter. She caught Shawn staring, probably for the tenth time in the last hour, quickly looking away each time Y/N caught him.

“I’m gonna go get us some more chips and drinks” she declared.

“I’ll come help” Shawn shot Y/N a smile as he followed behind her into the kitchen. Nobody didn’t notice anything between them though, everyone was too caught up in the stories they missed about each other. They both worked in silence, pouring snacks into the empty bowls and fishing out beverages from the well stocked fridge. She was pouring nachos into a bowl when she felt Shawn hover behind her, his fingers tracing her arm. This sent shockwaves through her system making her hair stand. It’s been a while since she’s felt him this close to her and her heart fluttered, cheeks flushed all the way up to her ears. Y/N swore that if it wasn’t because of the danger signs flashing in her brain, she would’ve spun around and kissed him right there and then. Instead, she slid out of his grasp to the left of the kitchen counter, turning around to face Shawn.

“What are you doing?” he heard him sigh, watching as he ran his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time. She knew exactly what he wanted, but she couldn’t give her time to him knowing what the consequences were.

“I’m not Mila, Shawn.” She let her heart imagine that he was way too tipsy, or maybe even drunk so he didn’t know what he was doing. She gathered the snacks, leaving him behind in the kitchen. Y/N was one of Camila’s close friends and Shawn’s best friend, so hurting her feelings was just not in the agenda, especially not here when she wasn’t with Shawn. They both went back to the group, their absence not felt by the rest as they slid back in without much notice. The rest of the night went on pretty quickly, a few friends having one too many drinks and leaving to go home, until it was just Y/N, Brian and Shawn left. They were helping to clean up, clearing the beer bottles for recycling, throwing out the trash. And just as Y/N was putting out the bonfire, another pair of hands came in to help her with the bucket of water.

“I need to talk to you. Meet me tomorrow? our usual spot” she knew she couldn’t say no, and Shawn knew it too. Telling Y/N that he needed to talk to her was his triumph card, and the last card in his deck if he was going to be honest. So she agreed, 10AM at their usual haunt.

-

The familiar bells to the Lakeside Cafe rung as she swung the door open, the pure aroma of coffees and teas putting a smile to her face. She was greeted by the staff who have seen her daily since her return, gesturing to the booth before she could even order a drink. And there he was, black beanie covering his hair, hands wrapped around his mug as he tapped his foot anxiously.

“Hey” Y/N, slid into the booth, removing her thick jacket and scarf.

“Hey, uh I got you your usual. Well as far as I remembered this was your usual a year ago” Shawn was nervous, the Vanilla Latte steaming in front of Y/N’s face. her smile faltered just a little as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. Y/N stopped drinking coffee after the break up, claimed it spiked her anxiety which was only half true; but she decided Shawn didn’t need to know that.

"yeah, thanks Shawn. what did you want to talk about?" her eyes met his, and there was something that was lingering between them that she couldn't put her finger on.

"I-uh, I just wanted to see how you were doing" and tell you how much I missed you.

"I'm doing just fine, Shawn. I've moved on if that's what you wanted to hear.” As if on cue, the cafe doors opened and a dashing young man dressed in a button up white shirt and navy dress pants sauntered in. His eyes scanned the cafe until it landed on Y/N and their eyes met. A wide smile grew on her face, the one smile that used to light up Shawn’s world. Y/N slipped out of the booth, taking wide steps towards the young man. They were engulfed in each others arms within seconds, him lifting her off the ground a little to pull her closer. Shawn winced visibly as he saw her in another man’s arms, the happiness practically radiating off of her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as the young man put her back down on her feet.

“Well, I finished my meetings early so I thought I would fly down to see my girl” She cupped his face, peppering kisses on his lips. Shawn had to shut his eyes for a moment, the image displayed in front of him too much for his brain to comprehend. Y/N brought the young man back to the booth with her, her hands intertwined tightly with his.

“Shawn, this is Michael. Michael, this is Shawn, one of my childhood best friends” The boys exchanged greetings, and Y/N could tell that Shawn plastered a fake smile on his face the entire time.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Mike asked innocently, the smile on his face so genuine that Shawn didn’t even have a reason to be mean. He could tell this man loved her, the way he protectively had his arms around her waist and how she cuddled into his embrace.

“Oh it was nothing, just catching up on the little things”

Thankfully, the conversation was cut short when Mike received a phone call from work. He excused himself from the table, leaving Y/N behind with Shawn. The air was awkward, picking up from where they’d left off before Mike’s grand entrance wasn’t ideal and Shawn knew better than to pick on Y/N’s new love life. Shawn being Shawn though, he did it anyway.

“He seems nice” It put a smile on her face. Y/N knew Mike was nice, more than that in fact, he was the most perfect thing ever since Shawn. He helped her move on, picked up all her pieces and slowly glued her back together. He was her saving grace.

“He is the best thing that’s happened to me” She smiled at Mike who was standing outside of the cafe. She thought about the nights after the breakup where he’d let her lay in his lap and they sat in silence. How he would shuttle between the east coast and west coast just so he could be with her as much as possible. She brought herself back to reality when she remembered why she was in the cafe in the first place.

“What did you want to tell me again?”

“I just wanted to tell you that uh-“ he sighed, “I broke up with Camila”

“You what?” Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. Not only because she was one of Camila’s close friends, but because Shawn had broken up with her. He initiated the breakup. She couldn’t piece together the story, everything was a blur for her in that moment. Y/N knew that Shawn and Camila were the couple that all their friends were banking on getting married and making music till they were old and grey. Heck, she was so happy for the both of them when they got together. She saw past all the shitty break up and emotions she went through with Shawn and she was genuinely excited for his relationship to prosper. Now he was broken up with her?

“I broke up-“

“No no no, you think twice before you say that!” She raised her voice slightly, getting the attention of the people around them. Shawn pulled her arms closer to him in an attempt to calm her down.

“Y/N-“

“You loved her and she loved you! Dude, you guys each have an album about the other! What are you think-“

“And I love you! I have a song about you!” Shawn matched her volume, leaning towards her in the booth. Y/N shook her head, pulling her arms out of his grasp. She grabbed her jacket and scarf, slinging her bag across her shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Shawn grabbed her arm, squeezing a little too tight.

“Somewhere, anywhere but here”

[antoine-roquentin]

Three blocks from Mark Zuckerberg’s $10 million Tudor home in San Francisco, Jake Orta lives in a small, single-window studio apartment filled with trash.

There’s a child’s pink bicycle helmet that Mr. Orta dug out from the garbage bin across the street from Mr. Zuckerberg’s house. And a vacuum cleaner, a hair dryer, a coffee machine — all in working condition — and a pile of clothes that he carried home in a Whole Foods paper bag retrieved from Mr. Zuckerberg’s bin.

A military veteran who fell into homelessness and now lives in government subsidized housing, Mr. Orta is a full-time trash picker, part of an underground economy in San Francisco of people who work the sidewalks in front of multimillion-dollar homes, rummaging for things they can sell.

Trash picking is a profession more often associated with shantytowns and favelas than a city at the doorstep of Silicon Valley. The Global Alliance of Waste Pickers, a nonprofit research and advocacy organization, counts more than 400 trash picking organizations across the globe, almost all of them in Latin America, Africa and southern Asia.

But trash scavengers exist in many United States cities and, like the rampant homelessness in San Francisco, are a signpost of the extremes of American capitalism. A snapshot from 2019: One of the world’s richest men and a trash picker, living a few minutes’ walk from each other.

Mr. Orta, 56, sees himself as more of a treasure hunter.

“It just amazes me what people throw away,” he said one night, as he found a pair of gently used designer jeans, a new black cotton jacket, gray Nike running sneakers and a bicycle pump. “You never know what you will find.”

Mr. Orta says his goal is to earn around $30 to $40 a day from his discoveries, a survival income of around $300 a week.

Trash picking is illegal in California — once a bin is rolled out onto the sidewalk the contents are considered the possession of the trash collection company, according to Robert Reed, a spokesman for Recology, the company contracted to collect San Francisco’s garbage. But the law is rarely enforced.

Mr. Orta was born in San Antonio, Tex., one of 12 children. He spent more than a dozen years in the Air Force, loading aircraft during the Persian Gulf war of 1991 and was dispatched to Germany, Korea and Saudi Arabia. By the time he returned to the United States, his wife had left him, and he struggled with alcoholism and homelessness. He moved to San Francisco, and five years ago qualified for a program assisting chronically homeless veterans.

At dusk he leaves his apartment building, which is wedged between a popular brunch spot for tech workers and a cannabis shop in the heart of the Mission neighborhood. The smell of marijuana fills the vestibule. Walking up a steep hill lined with mature trees, he passes homes that could pass for works of art: Victorians, some with stained glass and elaborate cornices and moldings painted in a soft palette of pastels, ocher, celadon and teal. A virtual tour of the neighborhood on the Zillow site shows that homes valued at $3 million and above are the norm.

But Mr. Orta doesn’t look at the architecture. He walks the streets, slightly stooped, his eyes peeled on the ground and a flashlight in his back pocket. His friends call him the Finder.

On the six times Mr. Orta went out with a reporter, he followed a variety of circuits, but usually ended up exploring his favorite alleys and a dumpster that has been bountiful. (The first rule of dumpster scavenging, he said, is to make sure there’s no raccoon or possum in there.) In March, the dumpster yielded a box of silver goblets, dishes and plates, as if someone had yanked a tablecloth from underneath a feast in some European chateau.

“How do you say it?” William Washington, one of Mr. Orta’s trash-picking colleagues, remarked one night. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Mr. Orta’s other recent discoveries: phones, iPads, three wristwatches and bags of marijuana. (“I smoked it,” he said when asked how much he got for the pot.) In late August or September, as participants return from the annual Burning Man festival in the Nevada desert, Mr. Orta says he often finds abandoned bicycles covered in fine sand.

Mr. Orta says he only takes what people have clearly thrown away, although 14 years ago he spent a few months in jail for breaking into someone’s garage in Sacramento and trying to steal a wrench for his bicycle. “It was a dumb mistake,” he said.

For years San Francisco has been a global beacon of recycling, attracting a stream of government ministers, journalists and students from across the globe to study the sorting facilities of Recology.

But the city is also full of young, affluent people preoccupied with demanding jobs and long commutes for whom the garbage can is a tempting way to get rid of that extra pair of jeans or old electronics cluttering their closet.

“We have a lot of trash of convenience,” said Mr. Reed, the spokesman for Recology. “You’ve got more and more tech people here and this city is moving faster and faster. These people have short attention spans. Some discard items that ought to be repurposed through a thrift shop.”

[brekkingthebedwithbuckybarnes]

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Chapter 1

OC x Bucky Barnes

Tagging: @vodka-and-some-sass thanks for always being my beta and best friend.

Disclaimer: (This is my first fic on here so I hope it isn’t too bad.) Fluff.

Summary: Adonia is spent with work and exhaustion and missing her best friend. She also doesn’t want to deal with her growing affection for the man with the troubled past, whom everyone seems to be a little worried of. But alas.

It had been a disgustingly long day at the lab. Countless samples, countless tests for each of them, on and on. Addy was sick of vials and thought she’d throw herself out of a window if she saw another one handed to her. Filing the final results away on the hard drive, she packed up and got into the sterilising shower. The only thoughts in her head as she removed her HAZMAT suit were that the yellow was bright enough to give her a migraine and that her bed was only half an hour away.

Stepping out of the lab, she made a beeline for her office, grabbing her bag, phone and car keys and made to leave when a note on the desk caught her eye. “Stark called. Meet him at the compound ASAP. Important.” Sarah’s handwriting. “I’m going to kill all of them someday”, muttered Addy, as she stuffed herself into her coat and took the elevator down, stomped to her parked car and drove the half hour to the Avengers compound. Parking at her usual spot, she walked into the building, the gates opening automatically for her.

Tony was waiting with Steve, locked in an aggressive but whispered conversation. Both of them shut up as she walked up to them, turning to her with troubled faces.

“What is it, Stark?” Addy grumbled.

“Trouble town with Manchurian Candidate”, Tony replied. “The medics haven’t been able to get any answers about it. We were hoping you could have a look?”

“A look. If anyone hands me even a single tiny Eppendorf, there will be smashed windows and I won’t apologise or pay for them.” Taken aback, the two men trailed after her, confused at the unnatural outburst.

She could hear Steve ask Tony what an Eppendorf was and normally she’d have turned around and explained but she was in a mood. Nothing to be done about it.

She turned only when they stepped out of the elevator Tony had taken them up on and he silently led the way to one of the in house labs. On other days, Adonia could spend hours on end in them, but not now. The stress had been eating her head off, and not being able to sleep wasn’t really helping with it.

The three of them entered an examination area, where James was leaning against the headboard, staring into space. “Why him?” was the first thought to flit through Addy’s head before irritated confusion took its place. He sat up when the three of them came in, and said, “Well, Stark, am I being released or is there another evaluation you want to do?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and it annoyed Addy to no end.

“We need answers to why that happened, Barnes, and who better than her-”

“If you’re not going to tell me what 'happened’, I might as well go get that sandwich and some sleep”, Addy snapped. She’d had enough of the twisted words. “Come on, Stark, what’s the problem?”

“Bucky lost control of the arm today. You needn’t have worried about smashing things, he already did that’s already done,” Steve replied quietly. “He did what?!” Adonia now turned to the painfully handsome man sitting with his face ravaged by guilt. “What did you do, James? What happened?” He looked up at the two boys, and Addy in turn gave them a silent command to leave them alone.

“I don’t know” were the first words out of him.

This was going to last even longer than she’d thought. Addy rubbed her eyes. Settling down on the chair opposite him, she kicked off her heels and tucked in her legs under her.

Bucky didn’t miss any movement, it was like he was fixated on her feet, memorising every little thing about them. Bucky, she thought of him as Bucky already, but she called him James. Nicknames felt too personal and she wasn’t ready for it yet.

“James-” “It’s Bucky”, he cut in.

Addy bit her lip. He wasn’t helping matters.

“How about we just talk about what happened? Can you tell me who was here, what you were doing?”

He released a sigh, as if he was tired of the same questions everyone was asking.

He looked away and shifted where he was sitting, half turned away from Adonia, who was trying not to lose her patience.

“It wasn’t even here. I was in the lounge, just… doing nothing. Everyone else was busy with their stuff, Peter had popped in to say hi in between somewhere and everything was as boring as it gets.” A pause.

Addy fought against squirming in the chair and waited.

“I think Nat had texted with her strings of photo faces that I still can’t understand and then a call came. I hadn’t glanced at it, I just thought she’d called to explain the text, but it was a man. Selling some mixer juicer. I don’t know what happened after that, I lost it.”

“Lost it?” Addy had her head on the back of the chair. Definitely a migraine coming on.

“I don’t know what happened, but one second I was fine and the next second I’d thrown the coffee table to the other end of the room and split the cushions. I think some stuff went through the windows too.”

He managed a sidelong glance at Adonia. She just nodded to continue. Sleep, she wanted to sleep so badly.

James was picking at his jacket sleeve as he mumbled out,“ I may have hurled a man into glass doors when he came to see what the noise was.”

“You did WHAT?!” Adonia sat up straighter.

“Yeah, he was the first to come in, it didn’t go well and I’m sorry, okay, I’ve said that repeatedly. I don’t know what had gotten into me.” He looked at her then, his beautiful crystal blue eyes laced with guilt and sorrow and the frustration of not knowing.

Adonia had never been able to hold that gaze for too long before feeling like she was drowning in the blue. She couldn’t hold it now. Her brain was spinning, trying to come up with any possible explanation. She’d been called in because she specialised in neural cell signalling. They thought the Hydra programming was resurfacing, she realised. They needed her to confirm it.

James watched her for a couple of minutes, the clever mind he was so in awe of since he’d met her working at an astonishing speed. It was like he could see the theories she was considering and dismissing. He thought it was the most wondrous thing he had ever seen. He’d scared her, when he

talked about flinging the man. He saw it in her eyes, warm like freshly grounded coffee, before he saw her believing him when he’d said he was sorry. He truly was and would have hugged her then and there for being the only one who’d believed.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” James asked cautiously, hoping his voice didn’t betray what he was thinking.

Addy jumped out of that daze of knowledge she’d filed away in her brain. That beautiful thing, Bucky thought before pushing it away.

“I…I have a few things I’d need to confirm before I reach a conclusion, so I can’t really be sure right now what to say to you,” she said sheepishly. This fucking migraine.

James released another sigh and Addy snapped, “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Sighing.”

“You want me to stop sighing? Why, did it hurt someone?”

Now she loosed a sigh of her own, rubbing the heels of her hands on her forehead. She was the picture of exhaustion, except for the look in her eyes when she raised her head.

There was something fierce in her face as she said, “It doesn’t help matters when you think you should be in prison or something at the drop of a hat.”

“I didn’t say any of that”, James countered.

“You were thinking it, I know,” she said as she got up and picker up her shoes. Fucking heels. “I have tomorrow off from the lab so I’ll run some tests, if you don’t mind. Then we’ll see.”

“Tony won’t be too happy to wait till tomorrow for answers.” Addy almost smiled at the look of surprise on his face.

“Then Tony can deal with it himself. I can’t handle any more Eppendorfs, I think I’ll hurl myself into a glass door if I see one now,” she said as she picked up her bag.

“What’s an Eppendorf?” James asked, as he stood and rolled his shoulders. He’d been sitting, waiting for that punishment, for a long time. He’d lied to Adonia when he’d said he wasn’t thinking like that and he was a little pleased she’d known it.

“Vial. Please don’t make me say it again, I hate them for the day,” she said as she headed for the door, holding it open for him to leave too.

“I should be holding it open for you,” said James, resting his metal hand over her small one.

“Oh please”, Addy was rolling her eyes.

So close. He was too close. It didn’t help her with the matter of thinking straight.

“After you, darling,” James drawled. Teasing her, if only to banish that weary look from her cute face.

He smirked as he saw the word work it’s magic as she straightened, tried to avoid looking at him and stepped out. She waited till he’d walked out and then almost smashed through the sensor as she locked the lab with her fingerprint.

Adonia noticed James’s toopleasedwithhimself expression and it irked her to no end. “Where’s the nervousness gone, Barnes?”

“Well, you assured me I wasn’t getting thrown out, so why should I hold it to my chest?” He was unabashedly grinning now, something he rarely did and she almost never saw. It took her breath away.

They got into the elevator and made it to the lounge floor, Adonia trying to ignore the fact that her head felt like a plane had crashed multiple times on it and James trying to puzzle out her pained expression.

“Something the matter, darling?” he asked finally, as they stepped out.

“You trashed a perfectly nice lounge and you ask me if something is wrong?” She immediately felt guilty for the jab as he winced. “Just a tiring day at the lab. Sorry.”

Tony looked up from where the rest of them were sitting and beckoned them closer. “Figured anything out, genius?”

“I’ll need to run a few tests to confirm what I suspect, but that’ll be tomorrow. I’ll also need his vitals from right after for it,” Addy said, hopping on her bare feet, trying to remain standing though her ankles felt like jelly.

“Oh? And why not today? It’s just 8 and you live here so it’s not like you have to get home late,” Tony turned his chair at them.

She felt James preparing to answer but said before he got the chance to open his mouth, “I’d warned you, Stark. No vials. I want to sleep. Goodnight y'all.”

Addy turned to go to her suite, feeling like she could sprint to it, when she heard Tony say, “We need to keep an eye on you, Manchurian Candidate. Can’t have another incident.”

“Yeah, I know, Stark.”

“I’ll have some security posted out your room and have AI monitoring-”

“You will do nothing of that sort.” All of them jumped at the fury in Adonia’s voice as she whirled around, her face filled with rage. “You will only aggravate whatever happened, and he isn’t a monster, Stark, so don’t you dare.”

Everyone was taken aback by her anger, they’d never known her to lose her temper. She’d fumed earlier but had never outright shouted at them. James looked as though he might have kissed her. And it was that look that checked her and she said a little more calmly, “Supervision to prevent destruction, yes. But don’t be like he’s some twisted monster who’ll tear everything apart. He’s human, he was brutally tortured and he’s just started healing. Don’t undo it. He’s one of us, treat him like it.” With that, Adonia turned and walked away, not trusting herself to keep her emotions in check anymore. The dull pounding had increased to excruciating pain. She’d need a whole jar of painkillers to get through the night. She wanted to cry.

She hadn’t noticed James following her back to the elevator noiselessly and only realised when she was in it and punched her floor number and he rushed in just before the door closed.

“What now? I just want to sleep, so please don’t let it be a long story.” Her voice felt like someone had run a tractor over her vocal cords.

“It’s not a long story,” he looked sheepish as he said it. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For saying I’ll run tests tomorrow?”

“For believing in me. Even Steve sometimes looks at me like I’m a terrible wild beast, like I’ll rip apart everyone around me. Only you don’t. Only you think I don’t need sentries and round the clock observation. Only you think….think that I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing, “So, thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for treating you right. Everyone else should too and I’ll make them do it, at gunpoint if necessary,” Addy said, glaring at the elevator controls to focus on speaking, anything other than the man beside her, and the pounding heart which now joined the pounding in her brain.

They had suites on the same floor. Addy glanced at the adjacent door, noticing it locked still. Ames would have helped sort things out, but she’d been gone so long.

James noticed her looking at her best friend’s door. His gaze softened even more as he lifted her chin with his metal hand, the vibranium cold against her skin. “She’ll be back soon, to torment us to death with her stories and lame jokes. Don’t worry.”

Addy smiled at his words, “She has the lamest jokes always, more lame than even Old Man Steve’s” and James thought his heart might explode with the warmth that spread through his chest at that little smile.

“Goodnight, Adonia. And thank you again,” he said as he let go off her chin.

Addy turned to her door and looked back with her hand on the knob, which unlocked at her touch,

“Don’t thank me yet, I still haven’t run the tests.”

“What time do you want to do it?” James crossed his arms against his chest.

She thought for a while and said, “9, after breakfast.”

James only nodded and smiled at her as she made to go in. He strode towards his own room across the common landing, clearing the distance quickly with his long strides.

“Oh, and Adonia?” he called out as she’d been about to close her door. She paused. “Have an antacid pill along with the painkiller. And have them both only after you’ve had food. I told them to send dinner up to your room. I’ll know if you had the meds before eating.”

She’d thought she’d make a meal out of the biscuits and sweets she stocked in her room, and had dismissed the craving for a hot meal when her body had stopped cooperating at all.

So when he said he’d ordered food up, and the antacid she’d forgotten about, she realised, it wasn’t false gratitude shining on her face. She’d have run across the gap separating their rooms if not for the migraine and her aching legs and the exhaustion that the insomnia bouts had brought with it. So she beamed at him instead as he smiled back, pleased at being able to wipe away at least a little worry from her face.

“Thank you, Bucky, and goodnight.”

It was only after the two of them had shut their doors and Addy had had her dinner and meds and had sunk deep into her mattress and numerous quilts that it hit her.

She’d called him Bucky.

[despairent-event]

Guess who finished making their entire fanganronpa list?

this asshole lets go

1. Ningyo (ultimate doll maker, mc, survivor) (Secret? Accidently killed a dear friend) 2. Uin (ultimate archer, killer, Kubi) (Secret? Killed like, a lot of people on accident) It starts with Uin in a forest, holding his bow, and getting readty to shoot a deer, just as he shot, Monokuma (dressed up as a grizly bear) came into view, and Uin started to run, Monokuma chasing after him. As he ran, he got scratched by the thorns in the forest, his legs where left dripping with blood. HE looked back to see if Monokuma was gone, not noticing where he was running. HE stept right into a bear trap, and fell onto the ground. Yadadada he then got shot to death with arrows by a bear-ception Monokuma.

3. Kubi (ultimate teacher, victime) (Secret? Looks at Cocktail, WELL) (Classrooms unlocked) 4. SN (ultimate detective, survivor) (Secret? Lied about a case to get Kyu out of prison) 5. Kyu/Dia (ultimate host, killer (Dia, Bunia, Megumi) survivor (Kyu)) (Secret? Kyu does know where SN's brother is) It starts with Kyu's new body activating to show that they are, infact, still alive, then switched back the Kyu, who had their hand restrained against a cross, an evil grin crossing over their mouth as a small drip of gasoline falls on them, falling more frequently after a few moments, trailing away from them after they where sucifcinetly covered in gasoline. Monokuma starts trying to light the fire, but none o hte matches work. At the very last one, he finnialy manages to light it, setting them on fire.

6. Petals (ultimate doggo, survivor)  (Secret? accidently bit SN's brother that one time) 7. Val (ultimate clothes maker) (Secret? Knows the last place SN's brother was seen) 8. Dioysis (ultimate gardener, victim, himself) (Secret? secret long lost brother (im looking at you Easter)  (Garden unlocked) His body was laid on the ground, surronded by plants, crows started to pick at his body as the plants start inching towards his body. For a split second, he seemed to start breathing, but the plants digging throug his skin into his body remobed any hope.

9. Megumi (Ultimate drink maker, victim, Dia) (Secret? Sparky but human) (Bar unlocked) 10. Tafi (Ultimate sweets maker, victim, Kawee) (Secret? Poisoned an entire mansion once) (Medic bay unlocked) 11. Tutu (Ultimate ballet dancer, Survivor)  (Secret? Mole) 12. Kawee (Ultimate Farmer, Killer, Tafi, Bunia)  (Secret? Serial killer) It starts with Kawee in a farmhouse a rope tied tightly around his neck, attatched to a slowly cranking m,achicne thats lifting him into the air. He starts trying to free himself, as the machiene cranks faster, just as he manages to undo the rope the floor under him opens up to a lot of angry plants, I think we know what happens here,

13. Yamot (Ultimate mask maker, survivor)  (Secret? On the witness protection program) 14. Bunia (Ultimate Bug tamer, Victim, Dia) (Secret? Sadistic lasy fool) (Butterfly house unlocked) 15. Easter (Ultimate Flower picker) (Victim, ) (Secret? Siblings? Dead) (Flower garden unlocked) 16. Fifas (Ultimtae underground fighter, killer, Easter) (Secret? most certainly a demon) He gets beat to death by monokuma

Kyu, Bunia, and Dia all use they/them pronouns Easter, Yamot, Kawee, Tafi, Megumi, Dioysis, SN, Petals, and Fifas and Uin, use he/him pronouns Tutu, Val, Kubi, and Ningyo use she/her pronouns

Trial one. Kyu noted Uin's bow is damaged right off the bat. He throws everyone off track with some ribbon he planted. Ballet dancer is embarrsed to say what she was doing but Tafi defends her. SN validates it, and turns it back onto Uin, Kawee mentions seeing him running from the direction they found the body. Ningyo finnialy speaks up, she had looked at the body, it had splinters stuck inside of the neck. Bunia had found some tape, like the one that Uin had used to repair his bow in a trash can, it was used up pretty well. You know how it goes from here.

Trial two. Kawee immidealty frames Ningyo, everyone seems convinced. She's left to defend herself alone, shaking her head over and over again. All seems hopeless, but Yamot, oh sweet dear Yamot, he remebered seeing Ningyo searching through the garden for her doll. Everyone seemed confused why she was looking there, to which all she had to say was 'I found dirt where dad doll was, I figured he might have gotten there somehow'. Now everyones heads where at Kawee, he would be the only one to be at the garden. He slowly breaks down, and i think we know how this ends >uO

Trial three. 'Kyu' is certainly acting weird right from the start, they're fiditing and giggling every now and then, SN seems to know the reason. They keep talking about how funny it would be if someone in this room had another person in them, or, not person, demon. SN smacks the back of their head and tells them to 'shut the fuck up'. Just like that Kyu is right back to normal, confused as to whats going on, and asks who died. 'Say, weren't you one of the people to find hte bodies?' - Yamot. Kyu clearly has no clue whats going on. and Ningyo just blurts out 'OH THAT WASNT YOU THE ENTIRE TIME'. Kyu: Kyu: OH NO Kyu @ SN: SN WHAT DID THEY DO Monokuma: well this is a suprise (it isn't, at all, he knew) Annnd Kyu gets transfered to a robot body and Dia gets killed after introducing themself and getting punched by SN.

Trial 4. SN, right off the bat, says 'yeah he killed himself a blind person could see that, so lets converse about something else' Tutu: SN what the fuck do you mean SN: I think we both know what I mean, dancer Tutu: Tutu: FUCK yeah they find out that Tutu's a mole  

Trial 5. Fifas starts off by just, giggling like a little shit, before turning his attention over to Yamot. 'I'm sure you have something to say, considering how much you had put in the garbage this morning?' "I'm sre you do to, considering you where in the wrong room section this omorning but go off i guess" Kyu raises their hand before speaking about looing in the trash, it was just news papers about some serial criminals "Why do you have those?" -SN 'details details, Fifas probably did it but who knows ANYWAYS' - Yamot and it jut goers off from there

[coatntails]

"Donovan" AKA Donny ~ branded Mustang gelding from High Rock HMA ~ Just look at this gorgeous boy. They don't come much flashier!

Pinto markings, gorgeous long tail, even a dun factor dorsal stripe - he truly is a horse of many colors. And if you're a sucker for color like I am, then you too can end up with this unpredictable nut job! Who needs a mare when you can get a gelding who's twice as moody? And if you are looking to get dumped over the stupidest shit imaginable, then this is definitely the guy for you!

He rides western and english, neck reigns, side passes, opens and closes gates, trailers, ties, bathes, stands for the farrier (if he can catch him) and has hundreds of camping and trial miles on him. He will cross a freeway overpass, go under a cherry picker that's working on overhead powerlines, walk past flags, barking dogs, and even a jackhammer. He will keep his cool when a firetruck goes by blaring its siren. He will also pick up fallen palm fronds and bolt when he hits his own ass with them. A crunchy pile of leaves or odd colored patch of dirt will have him leaping sideways with all four feet clearing the ground while you soar off in the opposite direction. And that trash can you've passed 53 times before on your rides - today that thing would eat him AND you if he didn't spin and run from it. He takes such good care of his rider! Yes, every ride will be a roll of the dice with this one - keep life exciting!

He adores kids, and will stand with his head down to get pet by any gaggle of children you meet on the trail. He will also tote your little niece around the arena like an old pro. But if you put your adult friend on him, he will have her off before the hour is up. Once you've bonded with him, literally no other adult will be safe on this horse besides you (and your safety is always questionable.)

He will also scare you several times every summer when you come out to the barn to find your horse lying dead in his stall.

Oh, no wait, he's just napping. He loves to nap in the sun. And even though you tell everyone this, you will still get calls from your friends, strangers, the barn manager, anyone who sees him, telling you that your horse is colicking. Sometimes these good samaritans will get him up and try to walk him, and he will reward their concern with a good bite on the back of the arm.

Trail riders, come get this dream horse before he's gone! 7.5 k $

New horse meme:

Share the too-honest sales ad for your horse (bonus points for photos)

[metinthehallway]

Gaia

Idek what this is, it’s just an idea that came to me upon looking at that one pic of harry sitting on the grass with a red bandanna around his neck and sunglasses on his head. Nothin too serious but I thought I’d post bc it’s 7 am and why not? 4.5k words of nonsense

In the flat green fields of Woodstock, New York, a young man sits with his knees pulled lazily to his chest. He’s found the perfect place to disappear, a tucked away corner in the shade of a large elm tree, a refuge from the constant commotion of the festival happening around him. It’s only the first day and he’s seen about 30 people carted away on makeshift stretchers either due to heat stroke, dehydration or too much LSD, about two thirds of them most likely suffering from all three. Scoping out the bodies swaying barefoot to the tune up of an electric guitar, he lets his mind wander. To this morning, finally dragging himself out of the body-sized indent in his bed. To last night, lying beneath the stars on the hood of his 1957 Cadillac, soft palms resting right on the hot metal as if it could burn the fingerprints right off his body. As if it could burn the existence right out of him.

To last month and the letter in the mail that changed the coursing river of his fate. The swiftness of the water sludged down to a motionless one, not a ripple to be seen for miles. He thought back to the letter, written in blue ink, written five states away in a room he’s never seen before. She sat in that unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar chair and whipped out the most formal stationary she owned and proceeded to cross her T’s and dot her I’s and break his heart. She used to spray her letters with his favorite perfume of hers so that when they arrived they would carry a sweet reminder; that she remembered the small details about him, that she remembered enough of him to call it love.

When the mailman unceremoniously dropped the pile of bills and subscriptions and a single handwritten letter onto his entryway floor he didn’t know he would spend the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the blazing summer sun making its way across his wall. The letter, adorned with drying tear stains that marred the pretty blue cursive, was absent of any faint trace of lemon. It was more bitter than the words that played on repeat in his mind, a record player skipping on the ugliest part of the song and distorting itself into a continuous screech. Words saying over and over again, “it’s not you, it’s the distance”. As if she wasn’t the one who created the distance in the first place.

The unmistakable sound of a cheering crowd brought him back to the present. Harry felt the grass poking at the tender skin of his hands as he ran them back and forth lazily to the music emitting from the speakers. A band he didn’t know the name of just walked on stage and everyone went wild, tipping their beers and sloshing the beverage all over the ground below them. He frowned, looking across the littered lawn at the variety of trash blanketing the green earth. Piles of cups, cans and bottles discarded, cigarette butts and clipped joints burned amongst wrappers of fast food and flyers showcasing the lineups for the day. He thought it was such an unnecessary thing to do as the large dumpsters lining the perimeters stood empty and void of their purpose. It was unfair. And he suddenly felt a great need to do something about it. Anything to get his mind off her.

Harry stood to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants so they would be free of dirt, ignoring the inevitable grass stains on his dark grey corduroys, and fixed the red bandanna tied loosely around his collar. He took off in the direction of the largest trash pile. He hadn’t even wanted to be here. He loved music, sure, but he bought these tickets months ago with his friends with the money he saved from his shoveling side job during the winter when things were drastically different. He’s been mentally preparing himself for the amazing experience he would soon have at dear old Woodstock. He planned everything down to the minute but what he hadn’t planned on was his girlfriend of 2 years to up and cut all forms of ties she had with him, which nowadays were only came in a weekly letter due to her having moved miles away. He couldn’t even enjoy himself here, couldn’t allow the music to wash over him in that special healing way it did when he heard a spectacular guitar riff or felt the beat of the drums sync up with his pulse.

So he grabbed a leaf bag that lined one of the smaller garbages towards the center of the festival and walked around, picking up single pieces of wayward trash before moving to the more compact piles. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked until his bag was filled to the brim with a plethora of waste and his arms started to ache in protest. Half carrying and half dragging the bag, he headed over to the industrial dumpsters and wrangled the ballooned bag over the top of the container. A hot and soupy liquid leaked onto his chest in the process and he recoiled, dropping half of the bags contents back on the ground. He groaned and with a dejected sigh and began to pick it all up again. When he straightened at the waist, he felt a pair of eyes boring holes into his back. He shrugged off the feeling as there were obviously a lot of eyes in the vicinity today and successfully got rid of the garbage once and for all.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with a girl about 100 feet away. She looked to be around his age, maybe younger, holding a trash picker in one hand and a nearly full black garbage bag in the other. In a quick once over he notices long black hair trailing onto the ruffled shoulders of a white floral blouse that ended at the waistband of dark brown bell bottoms, giving way to thickly strapped sandals peeking underneath the fabric. She gives him a wide smile and throws up a peace sign, her chubby fingers clad with an assortment of rings on each one. He thought it must be difficult to use the picker with the clunky bands of metal hitting the switch every other second to open up the claws at the end when they didn’t need to be opened up. He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrowing his brows he lets a small, tight smile take over his face. She must’ve thought he was a fellow advocate for Mother Earth like her. He wasn’t really. He just needed something to do.

Averting her gaze, he finds his way through the disjointed crowds in search of his friends, Eric and Johnny. He was hoping he could see Eric’s circular afro bopping above the sea of bouncing heads or Johnny’s tremendously long arms flailing out of rhythm to the heavy music sounding out through the trees. He was ready to go and they had all taken Harry’s car to Woodstock. Fumbling with his keys, he saw a familiar body going hard in the middle of a mosh pit, semi greasy pieces of hair flying about Johnny’s face as his bony elbows found a different target to impale every two seconds. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Harry braved the pit. His feet were being crushed every time he took a step and he stopped just outside of the core of the mosh, hanging low in the outer edge. He called out his friends name.

“Johnny! Johnny Menzel!” Harry repeated his name until the letters no longer made sense and his name no longer sounded like a word. Johnny was too caught up in the music. Harry wishes he could throw away his brain, wishes he could actually enjoy himself this weekend but alas. Here he was, wanting to go home to sulk in his bed after only three hours at the festival. They were supposed to go all night, him and his friends, even after the acts had finished their gigs. He told them he would stay for them because they knew he was going through the ringer at the moment and he wanted to be that reliable Harry he was, not this flakey, emotional Harry. But here he was, going back on his word. Harry traveled further into the dense crowd of flying limbs and swirling hair and tugged on Johnny’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“Harry! Fancy seeing you here dude,” Johnny exclaimed, brushing a sweaty strand of dirt colored hair out of his eyes in order to see his friend. Red rimmed the translucent blue irises, eyelids drooping heavily over them as a cheesy grin found its way onto his face. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Johnny was having fun, everyone around him was having fun. So why couldn’t he? Johnny had four months of rent to worry about that was due in two days but here he was, head banging to some obscure band amidst total strangers with their own problems. Maybe that was the way to let forget about it; smoke a whole lot of weed and let your body do all the thinking. Harry felt he couldn’t even do that, though. He just wanted to go home.

One look at Harry’s face and Johnny could tell what he was thinking. Shaking his head quickly, he backed away from Harry with his palms up and started to walk over to the canteen where they were selling bottled water for outrageous prices. Harry followed him and watched as he whistled and started picking at the bush next to the table, seemingly interested in its foliage. Harry knew what he was doing, having seen this same scene play out hundreds of times. The person in the chair counting money didn’t notice when Johnny swiped a cold bottle from the row and strutted away, Harry scoffing and trailing behind.

“Listen,” Harry says, catching up to Johnny. “I’ll stay the whole day tomorrow, I promise. I just can’t today. It’s too hot and...loud,” Harry finished, grasping for any excuse and coming up short. Of course it’s loud and sweaty. They’re at a music festival. In the middle of August.

Johnny could hear the absolute bullshit in his words and whirled around, placing a cold and condensated hand on Harry’s shoulder, chugging half of the water in one gulp before opening his mouth. “Yeah, because that’s totally the reason you want to leave before Janis Joplin comes on stage. You know, the quote unquote love of your short lived life? The woman you’ve obsessed over since you knew what a boner was?” Harry smacked Johnny’s hand off his shoulder, suppressing an intense blush before groaning. He should know by now to never tell his friends anything about himself.

“Man, I told you that in confidence,” Harry whines.

“You were drunk off your ass and announced that Janis Joplin gave you musical hard ons to a garage full of people. Don’t act all scandalized. You do it to yourself,” Johnny quips. “Anyway,” he continues animatedly. “Eric and I told you we were going to drag you out of that house if it was the last thing we did. And we did it. You can’t stay in that musty room anymore. I get that you’re hurt, man, I really do,” Harry crosses his arms at this statement but that doesn’t deter Johnny. “But we’ve been talking about this forever! I should’ve spent most of this money on rent but here I am, getting paid in experience. This is too groovy man, and you’re making it seem like a chore,” Johnny ends his miniature rant with a pouty bottom lip and what seems like a stab at a comforting voice but all it sounds like to Harry is pitying.

“I’m going home,” Harry announces, choosing to ignore the well meaning monologue. He jingles his keys in front of Johnny’s face, the 8 ball accesory almost making contact with his aquiline nose.”With or without you guys.” Johnny rears his head back.

“Looks like it’s without then. I’m going to go find Eric. And together we will find a ride. If not, we’ll just sleep on a bench or something. Maybe even on the wet grass,” he says, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s all about the experience,” Johnny says, before turning on his heel in search of the third staple friend in their group. Harry knows he shouldn’t feel betrayed by them. It would be unfair with all the moping they’ve put up with and all the times they smoked a bowl on Eric’s roof and Harry talked for hours and hours about her. Her pointy ears, her dainty wrists, her brown eyes he wanted to sow seeds in, watch flowers grow out of. Yeah, he was high. He was also sad. And they knew it. They sat there and let him talk for as long as he wanted to, even until the sun came up. They were good friends, he reminded himself on the way to his car. They just wanted to have fun.

Shoving his key into the ignition, he felt the Cadillac roar to life. He spent a full year working on this car, restoring it to its former glory. He loved his baby, even gave her a name: Candace. It wasn’t too creative but it was something to call his own. Putting his car into reverse and letting his foot off the break, he slowly rolled backwards out of his hazardous parking space, in his own little world. He regretted being to lazy to check his blindspot when he heard a dull thud and a grunt, the sound of numerous object falling to the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he put the car in park, scrambling for the door handle. He missed the lock three times before successfully disarming it and opening the door. He hesitantly made his way to the back of Candace, heart racing. He just hit someone.

In the two seconds it took to get to the bumper, Harry’s thought process went something like this; Oh my god. I just hit someone with my car. I’m in so much shit. Deep shit. Center of the Earth shit. They’ll sue me. Wait, what if they’re can’t sue me because they’re dead? I wasn’t going that fast, was I? What if they hit their head on Candace on the way down to their demise? What if there’s blood? I can’t handle blood! Oh my god, I’m going the throw up ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Rounding the back of the car (and discretely flicking his gaze to the headlight for any sign of damage), he sees a familiar pair of thick and strappy sandals and his heart drops even more. It was Hippie Girl he just mowed over with his car. He stands there, frozen as she begins to stir, loud groans escaping her lips. She tries to sit up and Harry finally moves, rushing over and dropping to his knees, making sure to cradle her head so she doesn’t hurt anything else.

Upon opening her eyes, his breath catches. They’re the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen and it chills him to the bone. It’s an unsettling stare. Various emotions pass over her face like clouds in the sky ranging from shock, confusion, pain and then finally, anger. She winces and takes a stuttered breath, opening up her deeply bowed mouth.

“What the hell just happened,” she questions angrily. Her thick brows furrow and dimple her forehead in the process. She turns her dark eyes left and right as if to gather her bearings before connecting with his, a recognizance sparking to life behind them like a flame. He gulps, praying silently for the Earth to swallow him up.

“Well,” Harry drawls out, unsure of how to say it. “I kind of backed into you with Candace. But not on purpose! I was...changing the radio station,” he lies, not wanting to seem like a wack job that doesn’t deserve his license. “I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly, terribly sorry. Here let me help you.”

With one hand on her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, he gently helps her up. As soon as she rises to her feet, she swats his hands away. Grimacing, she rotates her neck side to side and finds that it’s only a bit sore and still capable of full motion. Testing out the rest of her body, she stretches out her limbs, flinching slightly when she takes a step forward. Lifting her shirt to expose her hip where Harry assumes he hit with his car, he sees the start of a nasty bruise spreading into the waist of her dark brown jeans the same time she does. Lifting her head, he sees her face turn red with anger. A sharp inhale leaves both of their mouths. Uh oh, Harry thinks to himself. I’m definitely getting sued.

The Hippie Girl starts mumbling under her breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asks uneasily. He really didn’t feel like getting cursed by your run of the mill Woodstock Witch, no matter how much he deserved it. She ignores him and  turns her focus to the trash bag lying half empty in the dirt, its contents splayed all around them, many having rolled under nearby cars. She closes her eyes in defeat. Harry, feeling awful, hurriedly bends down to pick up all the garbage he can fit into his arms, not caring this time around if any mysterious liquid drips onto him.

Stuffing the armful of random waste into the bag at her feet, he hears what she’s saying. He stays crouched, cocking his head. She’s not saying any words, just counting. The numbers drop down from one hundred in threes, it seems. He pauses to listens. 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82…The numbers stop suddenly at 79 and he looks up to see her looking at him, almost black eyes narrowed. He straightens up quickly, clearing his throat. “Listen,” he says frantically. “You have to understand how sorry I am. I’m not usually the type of guy who goes around running over girls with his car.”

“I would hope not,” she shoots back. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be or else I would really be laying into you, dude. Changing radio stations? Really? Are you that shitty of a driver?” She puts her hands on her fleshy hips, forgetting about the bruise and cursing quietly. “Whatever,” she says softly, almost to herself, diverting her gaze to the sad looking trash bag. “I have somewhere to be.”

Reaching down to get a firm grip on the bag, Harry stops her. He feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t let her leave like this.

He could’ve hurt her way worse than a bruise. And he already felt horrible about the bruise, sucking in his own breath like he was the one who got hit when he saw it. Taking the bag from her, his hands dwarfing her own ring covered ones, he jogs over to the nearest dumpster before she can protest and throws it in. Returning to her, he holds up his hands in some type of truce.

“Where are you going? Maybe you could let me take you there. It’s the least I can do. And if you’re in such a hurry, driving would get you to wherever you need to go way faster than your tiny feet could. Not that there’s anything wrong with tiny feet,” he hurries out. “Just can’t cover as much ground as my Candace,” he finishes with a proud smile and a knuckle rapping twice on the trunk.

“As if I’m sitting in the same car that ran me over. A car that you named Candace. No chance buddy,” she says, already twisting her body to physically leave the conversation. Harry inwardly groans. She seemed more than capable of doing things on her own and she definitely didn’t want Harry’s company but he felt like he owed her. Scratch that. He didn’t just feel like he owed her: he absolutely knew that he did. He hit her with his car!

He watches her retreating figure for a full minute before deciding to catch up to her. If she didn’t accept his ride, he would at least see her arrive to her destination safely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, side eyeing his profile. She’s made it all the way to the entrance of the festival full of congested cars. He shrugs his shoulder, remaining silent as they walk, not quite together, but not quite like strangers.

She weaves her way in between the vehicles, a bit more wary now that she knows what it’s like to be rammed into by one of them. He walks behind her, observing her straight posture and confident walk silhouetted by the setting sun. The dying star turned the frizzy halo around the crown of her head an orange tint and made her swinging hands glint brightly, courtesy of the multiple rings that called her fingers home. Her blouse was falling off one shoulder, sporting a couple dirt stains on the white fabric from her fall. Another thing he was sorry about. His eyes wander down to the swell of her backside against the tightness of her bell bottoms. He almost doesn’t notice she’s stopped walking and thankfully he does in time, or else he would’ve ran into her. That would’ve been bad. That would have brought on an onslaught of, “You can’t drive AND you can’t walk? How did you even get this far in life being a total safety hazard?”

Harry can just hear it now.

She’s stopped in her tracks because a small fender bender blocks her path. She huffs and turns around not knowing how close Harry is, running right into his chest and bouncing back. “Woah there,” he says, putting both hands on her upper arms to steady her.

She shrugs him off and lets her feet carry her to the left, through a break in bumper to bumper traffic. Harry follows, of course. He thinks just a bit more than normal before opening his mouth. “You think they’d see the traffic and the sun setting and turn around to go home, wouldn’t you? Like, day one’s almost over, the acts are wrapping up their sets,” he says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head infinitesimally in grudging agreement. Harry takes this as a good sign. She’s no longer biting at his head.

“So,” he starts off. “What’s your name? I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And, again, I’m so sorry I hit you with my car.” He finds himself by her side, walking faster to keep up. Maybe her tiny feet aren’t so ineffectual, he thinks with a huff. She doesn’t seem to be too eager to answer him so he presses further.

“What are you doing here anyway? At Woodstock I mean. You don’t look like you were enjoying the music so I’m just curious as to why someone spends their Friday afternoon picking up other people’s messes. Seems kinda pointless if you ask me,” he says, rubbing a large hand around the nape of his neck. This garners a reaction from her and she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her otherwise serene face.

“My name is Cynthia,” she begins, voice gaining more traction as she goes on. “And it’s a good thing no one asked you then. I’m here because a bunch of environmentally challenged idiots get together and fry their brains to the sound of metal screeching on metal and create more litter than what’s found in a town dump. I’m here because no one but me seems to care about the environment. Do you know how much waste this godforsaken festival generates? And do you know how often they let it be stampeded into the Earth? They don’t clean this shit up, man,” she swears and breathes in, continuing her spiel. “I mean I thought you cared. Do you? Or is your favorite pastime just taking out random pedestrians with your obnoxiously red car like it’s a bowling ball and we’re the pins?” She finishes her last sentence with a snark.

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, halting mid step. Whatever he says is the wrong thing, so he just purses his lips and stares straight ahead. If I just stayed with Johnny and Eric, I wouldn’t be stuck with this self righteous hippie, he thinks. He knows she has every right to be angry but he’s been in too bad of a mood to even begin sympathizing. Everything feels like a direct attack to him at the moment.

Mentally sighing, he falls back in step with Cynthia, feeling bound to her at least until she knows she’s safe. She may be mean and sarcastic and all the synonyms of angry in one person, but after she’s arrived where she needs to go, Harry will never have to see her again. This thought gives him a bit of relief. She really is draining on his energy and he feels the need to pack a bowl just being around her.

They’ve been walking in uncomfortable silence for a mile now and she stopped protesting his presence about half a mile ago. The sky eventually turned dark and the stars have come out from behind their cloudy curtains when they finally approach a small neighborhood full of neatly stacked white houses and manicured lawns, most of which are full of blooming yellow black eyed susans and crisp white hydrangeas. She walks a bit quicker, a skip in her step as she nears a white blocked house with pale yellow window shutters and the number 19 in gold lettering on the front door. As she hops up the steps, her bell bottoms swish against the ground.

She turns around. Narrowing her dark eyes yet again, she bites out a curt, “thank you”. Harry’s about to smile but before he does she follows up with a, “thank you, really. For hitting me with Candace. That’s a hardcore stripper name, you know,” she blows a piece of thick onyx hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you to walk me home. Really. So I’m not going to give you a heartfelt thank you. You hit me with your car,” she says pointedly. She can’t believe she ended up here at the end of another seemingly routine day, standing on her front porch and looking into eyes so green it feels like she’s staring at a motionless forest, waiting for the trees to move.

“Have a wonderful night, Henry.”

And with that, Cynthia closes her front door with a flourish and in the quiet night, Harry can hear the lock click shut. “It’s Harry,” he says out loud to no one but himself.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he grumbles before twisting on his heel so fast it almost creates smoke, briskly walking down the single road in the complex back to Woodstock. He hears a flutter in the bush to his right and the brisk pace turns into a jog.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he repeats, shaking his head.

[purple-spring]

Where it ends, where it begins - a BH one-shot

Author’s note: This is my first Bughead fic, inspired by this prompt from @raptorlily. Thank you once again to the incomparable @jandjsalmon, whose input, support and friendship have been invaluable in the making of this fic, and to @theladylabyrinth, whose feedback and encouragement have helped me so much.

Summary: Closing night at the Drive-In. Jughead contemplates endings as he prepares to say goodbye to his beloved Twilight. Then Betty Cooper shows up at his door. [One-shot. Canon addition/Episode 4 coda.]

“It was then that Jughead knew, with a certainty that overshadowed everything else that was ambiguous and unsure in his own life, that one day, he would kiss Betty Cooper. Not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But he made a quiet vow of it, promising himself that he would give himself the chance to write himself into her story.”

Fic under the cut, or read on my Ao3. I LOVE hearing from my readers, so please feel free to drop by my asks.

…

At midnight, finally, the last of the stragglers made their way out of the Twilight Drive-In, leaving tire tracks, unfinished popcorn and rubbish in their wake.

Well, there you have it, folks, Jughead narrated bitterly in his mind, the last tatters of this town as we know it.

As he opened the movie projector and lifted out the final reel of Rebel Without A Cause, he had to stop and gave a bitter, hollow chuckle at the irony of it all - screening a film about the failure of the American dream on the last night of the drive-in, which, as far as he was concerned, was Riverdale’s funeral. Sure, the shooting of Jason Blossom was the death-knell for the innocence of this “town with pep”, but this night - in all its unabashed celebration of nostalgia - was its true farewell.

A lot of people had turned out, which was nice. But disappointingly (and predictably), besides everyone ooh-ing and aah-ing over young James Dean, no-one had picked up or appreciated the film choice. Everyone was entertained, sure, but in between all the high school kids making out in their cars and the Southside Serpents hollering at the screen, it was just like any other crappy night at the drive-in.

Betty, he thought. Betty would’ve appreciated it. It was her pick, after all, and the memory of it still enthralled him, made him smile. At the diner, when she’d half-jokingly suggested it, he’d given her no more than a nod and a smile. On the inside, he was screaming.

He shook his head in an attempt to shrug off these thoughts, which were disturbingly becoming more prevalent in the past few weeks. He’d never really paid heed to Betty Cooper that way growing up, because everyone and their dog just assumed that Archie and Betty were destined for one another. It didn’t matter how many other girls Archie hooked up with along the way - these were all momentary diversions in their long march towards Cooper-Andrews endgame. Betty would wait, ever-steadfast, until Archie eventually came around to his senses. They would get married, have three beautiful children and live in a charming house bordered by white picket fences. A true Riverdale fairytale.

Except… Jughead always thought that Betty was better than that. That she deserved more than just to be the final, decisive footnote in Archie’s romantic chronicles. It’s true that they’d become more distant as they grew up, but he still counted her as one of his closest friends. Jughead had been around her his whole life, and knew her well enough to see that one day she’d transcend the depressingly small dreams Riverdale held for her. She was strong, whip-smart, fiery and compassionate. When she got that literary internship, he rejoiced for her. She deserved it. Sure, he listened and empathised with Archie in bemoaning the loss of their friend over the summer, but privately, he was thrilled that she was getting out of Riverdale, even for a little while. Because she needed to know that there was more beyond the borders of their little town, and that perhaps she deserved a little better than what she - and everyone else - expected for herself.

Jughead had known all this, yet still managed to keep a friendly, platonic distance throughout their teenage years. So he couldn’t fully explain this sudden, recent spark in his consciousness of her. Why he was suddenly more aware of his body and the way his face moved whenever she was around. Or why a throwaway movie suggestion over milkshakes echoed more deeply than it should have. Maybe it was her extended absence that summer. Maybe it was even Jason’s murder, which had cast a cold, gloomy pall over Riverdale that made him and so many others want to reach for the warmth and inherent goodness of someone like Betty Cooper. All he knew was that when he saw her for the first time again after summer and she turned around in that booth at Pop’s, he looked and saw things that he hadn’t seen before.

For instance, he saw that Betty Cooper had grown up.

He saw that she held herself with a new steadiness, a steely confidence that caught him off guard. And that her hair looked really pretty in its careful curl and neat ponytail, but that it would also be interesting to see what it looked like when it was out and loose (perhaps when she woke up in the morning?).

More importantly, he saw that her eyes - greener and more arresting than he remembered - took an unusual trajectory away from Archie as they walked into the diner. For as long as Jughead had known Betty, her gaze always rested on Archie by default, whether she was listening to him intently, willing him to look at her, or upbraiding him for something he had done. This time, her eyes looked past Archie and at him. It was a small change, but it startled him, alerting him to a shift in the atmosphere. In his mind, he saw a weathervane turning, signalling the changing wind.

He was not silly or naive enough to think that he completely fell for Betty Cooper that day at Pop’s. He wasn’t even sure that he was there yet, that he could define whatever he felt about her in certain, concrete terms. All he knew was that he was far more aware of her than he had ever been his entire life. And with Riverdale’s slow descent into darkness (and his family’s own descent into brokenness) raging in the background of his life, she was a pinpoint of light that he was in no hurry to look away from.

…

A knock on the door startled him.

He tensed. Anyone knocking on the door of the drive-in’s projector room past midnight was bad news. He glanced around wildly, looking for a weapon, anything heavy he could defend himself with.

“Jug? You there? It’s Betty.”

Shit. He almost wished for the hostile intruder. This was decidedly worse. What the hell is she doing here?

Jughead opened the door. He felt his chest tighten. It was ridiculous and wildly unfair that she stood there, right where the light hit her best. Her beauty made him ache. Then he noticed a faint smudge on her cheek, a slight twitch in her jaw. She’d been crying.

She smiled wanly and held up an empty rubbish bag. “I figured you needed help cleaning up.”

“Hey. Betts.” He stepped outside and quickly closed the door behind him, aware that if she caught a glimpse of his bed and belongings, she wouldn’t let up until he told her the truth about his living situation. “Is everything okay?”

She gave a shaky, nervous laugh. “Um, yeah. It’s been… an eventful night.” His eyes searched her, silently willing her to elaborate. “Is it okay if I take my time talking about it? I’m still a little shaken up.”

“Sure, of course.” He indicated the rubbish bag. “So… this is…?”

“An excuse.” He smiled at her honesty. “A distraction, really. After tonight, I just felt the need to come out and do something helpful. And to pay tribute, of course.” Her arm waved out vaguely towards the screen, now blank, white, empty of imagery.

He couldn’t help but scoff good-naturedly at that. “So, you decided to distract yourself by coming out and cleaning up the drive-in that’s closing down? Polish the brass on the Titanic?”

She laughed. “Really? You’re making a Tyler Durden reference?”

Jughead leaned against the doorframe and cocked an eyebrow at her. “The girl knows her Fight Club quotes, I’m impressed.”

“It’s only one of my favourite movies.”

He smiled and gave her a skeptical look. “Fight Club? Really?”

“Yeah, well, when it’s contraband in your household and you have to sneak it into your room to watch it on your laptop, you kind of develop an odd little affinity with it.” She shook the rubbish bag at him, a little more certain and purposeful. “Anyway, come on, the Titanic’s not polishing its own brass.”

Jughead laughed. “Alright then, but we’re going to need some snacks.”

…

Jughead raided the leftovers from the drive-in snack bar. The kid who was manning it was supposed to have cleared it out by the end of the night, but clearly he thought it would be pointless, given that the drive-in was closing. Jughead grabbed a bag of popcorn, some chocolate bars and a couple of trash pickers for him and Betty.

They agreed to start at one end of the drive-in and walk across together to try and cover the grounds. With all of its lights still on and the signage still buzzing above their heads, the drive-in looked hauntingly beautiful in its neon-lit emptiness.

Betty turned to Jughead as she ripped a Snickers open. “How did tonight go, Jug? I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it. My mom sort of hijacked my plans.”

“It’s okay,” he said. And it really was. Alice Cooper was a piece of work. “It was bittersweet, to be honest. The whole town was there - Serpents included, but you know, still, it was great.” He sighed. “I just wish it didn’t have to take the drive-in closing down to get everyone here.”

Betty glanced at him. “You know the town cares about the drive-in, Jug. We all had great memories here. I did - I watched my very first movie here. I’m pretty sure we all did.”

“What did you watch?” he asked out of curiosity.

“It was a rerun of the Zeffirelli Romeo and Juliet.”

Jughead laughed. “Wow, seriously?”

“Seriously.” She laughed at the memory. “I was 6, and… well, you know my mom. She had grand plans for me and my sister to become cultured. Polly was bored and ended up reading a book, but I actually ended up enjoying it.”

Jughead imagined it - six-year-old Betty Cooper, precocious and already smart beyond her years, her blonde head resting on her little hands as Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting declared their love for each other on the play’s infamous balcony. It was, he had to admit, adorable. “Little morbid for a six-year-old, don’t you think?”

“It definitely was, but I was more into the love story. The deaths and the gang warfare completely went over my head.”

“Are you kidding? That’s sort of the whole point of the story, Betts.”

“Was it really, though? The title of the play WAS Romeo and Juliet.”

“Yeah, but then it starts with this morbid prologue that basically spoils the love story for you. ‘Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…”

Betty smiled and joined him, their voices echoing the over the empty grounds of the Twilight. “From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean –”

“See?” Jughead broke off. “‘Civil blood makes civil hands unclean.’ It’s obvious, isn’t it? Shakespeare’s trying to tell us that that’s where the story’s at. The lovers are just a plot device to teach you the real lesson of the play, which is that senseless hatred is a vile force that can disrupt even the purest, most honest love.”

“Or,” Betty countered, “that even the briefest flicker of love, which lasted all of three days, can be enough to bury an ancient grudge. Remember, the Capulets and the Montagues actually made up in the end. And you didn’t even get to the good part of that prologue - ‘doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.’”

Jughead smiled. This was the kind of literary banter that he could only have with Betty. Archie was his best friend, but the last book they discussed was a Spiderman comic. “Alright, I can concede that point. But you’re an eternal optimist, Betty. I’m a cynic.”

“Cynics don’t fight tooth and nail to keep an old-fashioned drive-in open, Juggie,” she said. Juggie. Her childhood nickname for him. It made him unreasonably giddy. “Or write novels in tribute to their hometown. Face it, you’re a romantic soul.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “It’s not romantic to mourn endings, Betty. It’s just… human.”

Betty’s face fell. Jughead immediately regretted his scornful tone. Which was odd. He never usually cared how people reacted to his rougher edges. But seeing Betty’s vulnerability at his doorstep earlier opened something fierce and protective in him. He bent his head to catch her eye. “I’m sorry. That was a bit sour.”

“Oh, no, don’t be. I mean, you’re absolutely right - spot on, in fact,” she said. She smiled at him. “And don’t apologise for your sourness. I think I can handle some trademark Jughead Jones sourness.” She playfully poked at his beanie.

Jughead froze internally. She wasn’t normally this casually tactile with him; that was reserved for Archie. Come to think of it, how the hell was Archie still walking around when he’d been touched, so often and so tenderly, by Betty Cooper? The spot on his head where she’d poked him felt electrified.

Betty continued. “But like I said, you’re right. I am an optimist, but there’s still something about tonight that makes me feel like… I should be grieving. Grieving what, I don’t know.” She sighed and sat down on the grass. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”

Jughead sat down next to her. They passed a few moments in companionable silence before he turned to her. “What happened tonight, Betty?”

In detail, she told him about what had transpired in the Music Room at school with Miss Grundy (or Jennifer Gibson, rather), Archie, Mr. Andrews and her mom. She withheld nothing. He raised his eyebrows when she mentioned breaking into Grundy’s car, was incredulous when she told him about the gun and the ID (he was borderline spluttering when she mentioned that she’d taken the gun home - how could she be so reckless?). She went over the fiery exchange between her mom and the Andrews men, and her subsequent threat to publicly rescind her story on Grundy and paint her mother as the villain. By the time she got to the part where Grundy announced that she’d skip town, Jughead was floored. The girl had guts.

“That’s one hell of a night, Betts. I can’t believe you actually got Grundy to leave town.”

“I didn’t - that was her choice. Admittedly a choice made under duress from my mother, the ultimate bad cop.”

Jughead laughed at that. “Still. You pursued the lead, you found the evidence, and you prevented Archie from getting caught up in a sadder, more tragic version of The Graduate. That’s brilliant.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him - a small, hesitant smile. “It was pretty good, I’ll admit.”

They both fell quiet. He sensed that her heart wasn’t in that self-congratulatory admission. He nudged her knee with his. “So what’s bugging you?”

“Ah. I don’t know, Jug.” She wrung her hands. “I know I did the right thing but… it doesn’t feel good, you know? It’s not something I want to celebrate.”

“Well, let’s analyse. Why did you actually do it? Why’d you go after Grundy?”

“I did it because… I guess, because I wanted to protect Archie. I thought Grundy had him under some sexual spell that prevented him from seeing reason. I thought that he was incapable of thinking for himself because he was blinded by her. But…” She paused and looked out over the Twilight, deep in thought. “What I saw at the Music Room wasn’t some child who couldn’t reason for himself. What I saw was our friend Archie who we’ve known our whole lives, fully aware, making his own decisions, seeing how stupid and dangerous and reckless they are, and continuing to make them anyway.”

Jughead was quiet. It was odd hearing any sort of Archie criticism from Betty. Sure, she’d tell him off for chewing with his mouth open, or not studying for a quiz, but there was never anything like this - a full critique of his character and the decisions he made.

“I didn’t know who that Archie was, Juggie. I felt so distant from him. I felt betrayed, but not by him. I felt betrayed by this illusion of him that I’ve held onto for so long. And it made me realize that maybe what I felt for him was an illusion, too.”

Jughead felt the air go still. As if Riverdale itself was holding its breath. As if the town couldn’t believe that the dream it had concocted of its two golden children was disintegrating .

Betty sighed. “And tonight, this whole Grundy thing, just felt like a sign. That maybe it’s time to let that illusion go.”

Jughead’s felt his chest tighten. His mind was a mess. He couldn’t process what he was hearing. It felt unreal, like it should’ve been playing on the blank screen in front of them rather than right here, in a conversation with a girl that he could not stop thinking about. She was saying words that he’d never imagined her saying, and in turn, he was feeling things that he’d never thought he’d ever feel for her. He felt like he was floating out of his body.

“Jug?” She interrupted his reverie. “Come on, say something. I feel terrible that I’m sitting here saying all this to his best friend.”

Jughead was stumped. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? His mind went blank - blank as the screen before him.

The screen. In a flash, it came to him.

“Betts, you know I’m not great at talking about that stuff. But… I do know movies. And I know endings. Heck, I’m living through one right now.”

Damn it, why was she looking at him so intently? How was he supposed to concentrate on what he was saying? He looked away from her, determined to say what he needed to say.

“You know what I used to love about the drive-in? I loved that me, my dad, my mom and Jellybean could come in here, no matter how crappy it was at home, and suspend reality for two hours. Pretend that there was a better story than the one we were living. Pretend that we were this happy family, that dad wasn’t drinking or screwing up our lives.”

Betty looked at him in sympathy, and reached out to put her hand on his. If he’d been jolted by a simple poke to the head earlier, this felt like an assault on the senses. He tried to ignore it as he went on.

“But then the movie would end. And I’d hate it, because then the fantasy would stop, and we had to go home. I think that’s why I decided to work here. I wanted to preserve that feeling. I wanted my own illusions, too.”

Betty smiled in appreciation of how he neatly turned her own words into his.

“Tonight, I feel like that illusion ended. And you know, it does piss me off, but now I’m free of it. Now I don’t have to stick around and pretend that my life is better than it is. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, but that’s depressing, Jug.”

“Hell yeah, it is. But it’s real.”

She was quiet and thoughtful, seeming to turn that over in her mind.

“I guess my point is, sometimes the illusions can just be that - all smoke and mirrors. And sure, they look and feel good, but they stop you from engaging with reality. That reality sucks sometimes, but I need to deal with it at some point, right?”

“Yeah. Right.” Betty nodded, seeming to concede his point. “Maybe we both needed our illusions to end. Maybe now, we can go out there and make our own reality. A better one.”

He smiled. Hearing her say that gave him a sense of peace about the Twilight and about his living situation. He’d figure this out. He always did.

Suddenly he was struck with a flash of inspiration. He got up quickly. She looked at him with puzzlement. “Jug?”

“Come on. I’ve got an idea.”

…

They stood in front of the main circuit box of the Twilight. As the lone worker in the drive-in, Jughead was in charge of turning off the main switch after every show. In his mind, he had already seen himself playing something symbolic over the speakers (“Closing Time” by Semisonic, or maybe something more vintage and defiant, like “My Way” by Sinatra), while turning off the switch and watching the lights go out one last time.

But then he looked down at Betty - his very own Hitchcock blonde and by far the most interesting plot twist in his life - and he knew that he wanted her to be a part of that. Because something was ending for her, too. And she needed to mourn it and mark it as much as he needed to say goodbye to the Twilight.

She looked at the main circuit and understood immediately. “Jug, this is – I mean, you should be –”

“Betts, this place means something to you. Maybe more than you realize.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “You spoke of illusions earlier, didn’t you? Well, maybe this is where they began, at the Twilight, with Romeo and Juliet. Maybe, like you said, it’s time to shut that illusion down.”

“Yeah, but…” Betty smiled and looked off into the distance, as if envisioning her future. “Just because Archie didn’t fulfill that illusion doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.” She exhaled a long breath that she seemed to have been holding in for some time, then fixed her eyes on his. “It’s still a good story, Jug. And I still choose to believe it. Maybe Archie wasn’t meant to be Romeo, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to be Juliet.”

It was then that Jughead knew, with a certainty that overshadowed everything else that was ambiguous and unsure in his own life, that one day, he would kiss Betty Cooper. Not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But he made a quiet vow of it, promising himself that he would give himself the chance to write himself into her story. Not just as a friend, or a childhood memory. But as Romeo.

“Juggie?”

He snapped back into the moment. “Yeah?”

“We’ll do this together, you and me,” she said, indicating the switch. “It’s only right.”

Jughead could have fallen in love with her just for that. He was more than halfway there. He nodded and put his hand on the rusty handle. She brought her own hand up, her eyes jumping to his, suddenly conscious. Did he imagine it? A brief flash of awkwardness then her hand covered his - warm, soft, home.

“To endings?” she said, her voice small but assured, hopeful.

He paused, and thought of everything that was ending or had ended in Riverdale. Jason Blossom. The Twilight. The town’s false patina of innocence. His own stability.

And then he looked at her hand covering his, and all of that dissolved into the background, like the final frame of a movie fading to black.

“No,” he said. “To beginnings.”  

[newstfionline]

The world is drowning in ever-growing mounds of garbage

By Kevin Sieff, Washington Post, November 21, 2017

LAGOS, Nigeria--As this port city grew, its slums expanding across the muddy coastline, its skyline rising in glass and metal, residents ran into a problem plaguing all of the world’s great metropolises: What should they do with the trash?

Years ago, there was a seemingly easy fix. Trucks drove the waste far outside town, depositing it at the 100-acre Olusosun dumpsite. That began in 1992, when Lagos’s population was just over 7 million. Now it’s about 21 million, and this is Africa’s largest city.

Lagos has expanded well beyond Olusosun, and the cavernous dump now finds itself in the center of the city, a hospital on one side, a primary school on another, and homes hovering just over its precipice. It is directly off the main highway, and a whiff of burning trash sometimes blows across the city’s standing traffic jams.

The world now produces more than a billion tons of garbage a year, which it incinerates and buries and exports and recycles. In New York, barges transport as much as 3,600 tons of waste down the Hudson River every day. In the Netherlands, which has a sophisticated recycling system, residents throw away the equivalent of more than 400,000 loaves of bread per day. In Jakarta, residents refer to the Indonesian city’s growing dump simply as “the Mountain.”

The world’s garbage crisis--documented over two years by photographer Kadir van Lohuizen--is predicted to grow exponentially in the coming decades as people become richer and increasingly move to urban areas. By 2025, according to a World Bank study, the waste produced by cities around the globe will be enough to fill a line of rubbish trucks 3,100 miles long every day.

Africa, the fastest-urbanizing continent, is full of cities struggling to balance their extraordinary growth with sustainable waste management. Every year, improper garbage disposal contributes to devastating epidemics of mosquito-borne malaria, yellow fever and other potentially fatal diseases. This year, Lagos has had two outbreaks of Lassa fever, a sometimes deadly virus, spread by rodent urine or feces, that has been linked to poor sanitation.

In August, Nigeria’s Guardian newspaper ran the headline “Epidemic looms in Lagos over piling heaps of waste.”

The city’s garbage problem had become impossible to conceal.

It wasn’t just Olusosun. With the population surging, some of the city’s coastal slums had run out of usable land and started filling in swampy areas with rubbish. Residents of one community, Bariga, agreed a few years ago to allow garbage collectors to use their neighborhood as a dumpsite. They took the trash and extended their property into the bay, covering it with sawdust and building homes on top.

Walking on Bariga’s reclaimed land feels like balancing on a trampoline, the ground sinking slightly beneath your feet with each step. Children play barefoot in the trash that hasn’t been covered yet. Earlier this year, a flood swept tons of garbage from the city’s lagoons into some of its main streets.

“This is development for us. We have no other land to live on,” said Ibrahim Abadu, 42, a Bariga resident.

Still, if Lagos is a symbol of the worst reactions to the world’s garbage problems, it also represents some of the best solutions. It is a city where waste has become an enormous public policy challenge, a source of grave diseases but also a valuable commodity. Across the city, local entrepreneurs and international businesses have opened sorting and recycling plants that export plastics, metals and paper to China and India.

Perhaps nowhere are the dangers and opportunities of trash so clear as in Olusosun, by far the biggest of the city’s landfills.

The dump is a dystopian sight, a tower of garbage 10 stories tall with an endless stream of trucks arriving to unload heaps of waste.

“It’s an eyesore,” Lagos’s environment minister, Babatunde Adejare, said in an interview. The government has announced that it will shut down Olusosun by 2022.

Today, more than 4,000 people work there, living in tentlike structures atop the trash. When trucks arrive, crowds of men with iron bars and plastic bags pounce on the back, convinced that the most aggressive workers will get the most valuable materials, such as metal cans and plastic bottles. They will then sell those to middlemen, part of a long chain of commercial activity that typically ends on a barge, with recyclable materials on their way to China to be melted and turned into bottles, sandals or clothes.

In the past, some garbage pickers have died or lost limbs when the dump trucks’ hydraulics failed and the vehicles’ containers crashed down on them. Other workers have fallen ill of unidentified diseases. As Olusosun has grown, it has become associated with the city’s darker side. Human body parts have shown up in the trash heap. So have mysterious bags of cash and the relics of witch-doctor experiments, such as herbs and animal skulls.

Still, for decades, people have come from all over Nigeria to work at Olusosun and other nearby dumps, insinuating themselves into a strict hierarchy, with garbage pickers on the bottom and kingpins, running their own small garbage enterprises, at the top. In Lagos, for all the horrors involving waste management, trash is still seen as an enormous economic opportunity.

In 1988, Abdul Rashid Garba arrived in Lagos from northern Katsina state. First, he pushed a wooden cart with trash, making $4 a day. Then he became a scavenger, or “a picker,” at the city’s dumpsites. By the early 1990s, he moved onto the dump at Olusosun, sharing a makeshift tent with other laborers, spending his day filling bags with anything of value, which meant anything recyclable.

“I was here to make money, to do work, even if it was difficult,” Garba said.

He climbed the ranks. After a few years, Garba started organizing his own group of pickers, and then a coalition of groups that reported to him. Now he is in charge of over 400 pickers and truck drivers and sorters. He earns $40,000 per year. He has built two houses back in his home state.

Around the world, in the 1990s and early 2000s, recycling became an increasingly profitable business. And in Nigeria, where the average yearly salary is $2,000, thousands were drawn to the industry despite its often brutal conditions. It also helped the city eliminate some of its trash, draw foreign investors and win accolades internationally.

“This is what comes from a burgeoning middle class,” said Lolade Oresanwo, the chief operating officer of the recycling and waste management firm WestAfricaENRG, as she walked around bags of the most valuable materials at one of the city’s waste-sorting sites.

In a warehouse outside Olusosun, Bilikiss Adebiyi-Abiola runs Wecyclers, a business that collects and recycles plastic, paper and metal. Born in Lagos and educated at MIT, she estimates that scrap metal and plastic in Lagos is worth about $700 million per year. Her company has launched a fleet of vehicles and bicycles to pick up recyclable material across the city, compensating people with household goods and appliances.

“Before people just saw plastic as being useless,” Adebiyi-Abiola said. “Now they say, ‘This is money.’”

But only roughly a tenth of Lagos’s waste is recycled, and there are massive challenges facing companies such as Wecyclers. The electricity necessary to turn plastic bottles into exportable pellets is unreliable in Lagos. And the companies are largely dependent on China’s demand for recycled plastic, which the country has pledged to stop importing as part of its campaign against “foreign garbage.” China says such trash harms the environment and serves as a public health hazard.

That leaves a growing pile of waste at Olusosun and many more tons of garbage dumped illegally, including in slums such as Bariga. But recently the government has come up with a new plan.

It has identified a new dump site in the city of Badagry, 40 miles from Olusosun. It would be a world away, hidden from the growing city, at least in the short term.

“It won’t be another eyesore,” promised Adejare, the environment minister.

[shirlleycoyle]

Read the Best Parts of Alex Jones’s 159-Page Deposition About Pepe the Frog

In a court deposition obtained by Motherboard, Infowars’s Alex Jones claimed Pepe the Frog was more than just a cartoon frog.

“[Pepe the Frog] is a symbol of free speech,” Jones said. “There’s now a movement to try to then control and own symbols that have entered the public domain and public use….and so now I see it as basically a tombstone of free speech and fair use in the Western world. So I see it for what it is, from the perspective of the corporate fascists.”

Last year, Jones was sued by Pepe the Frog artist Matt Furie for allegedly infringing Furie’s copyright on the cartoon frog by putting Pepe on a poster that Infowars was selling. Jones is fighting the case. The court documents are part of a 159- page deposition given on December 18, 2018 as part of the case, and is embedded below.

Furie originally created Pepe as a chill frog who spreads love, but internet fascists and assorted reactionaries appropriated the frog as a symbol of white nationalism in the run up to the 2016 election.

Moments before the impassioned speech, Jones admitted that, at first, he didn’t understand the cartoon frog at all. “I get most memes,” Jones said. “But I just didn’t understand [Pepe the Frog.]” Much of the deposition consists of Jones alternating between saying that he doesn’t care much about Pepe and discussing the finer points of the frog, like noting that his forehead looks “like a butt.” At one point, Jones says that if he loses the case, it would be “like [being made to make] a payment to the Statue of Liberty or something when we’re talking about liberty.”

Jones is the last standing defendant in a series of lawsuits filed by Furie in recent years. After a Texas educator released an Islamophobic children’s book starring Pepe in 2017, Furie began enforcing his copyright. By that time Alt-right personalities such as Baked Alaska, Mike Cernovich, and Jones were selling Pepe-branded merchandise, and Furie put them on notice. As the cease and desist letters rolled out, most Pepe copyright abusers relented. Even the notoriously grotesque Neo-Nazi website Daily Stormer scrubbed the Pepe’s from its website. Only Alex Jones and Infowars promised to fight on.

At the time Furie began to enforce his copyright, Infowars was selling a poster depicting several personalities from the 2016 election—including Kellyanne Conway, Roger Stone, and Pepe the Frog. Furie’s lawyers—the law firm of Wilmer Cutler Pickering Hale and Dorr LLP—formally asked Infowars to remove the poster from its store. It refused, altered the price of the poster from $19.95 to $17.76 and then $29.95, and promised to fight against Furie on free speech grounds. WilmerHale filed a lawsuit against Infowars on March 7, 2018.

Jones said that the poster was an extremely unpopular item on the Infowars store. He said that he asked Infowars to “jack the price up” after he was sued, because he thought people would want to buy it if they thought they were defending free speech. It didn’t work.

“It’s in thousands of newspapers, and people wouldn’t buy it. This is like the trash you can’t get the trash man to pick up,” he said. “

In the wide-ranging deposition, Jones compared his use of Pepe the Frog to artist Andy Warhol’s paintings of Campbell’s soup cans and claimed people were accusing him of being a white supremacist because of his defense of the use of Pepe. “It’s a way of saying I’m a white supremacist,” Jones said. “So it’s a way of defaming me and acting like I stole something all at the same time. It’s just, God, I don’t know how people sleep at night. It’s amazing.”

Both Infowars and WilmerHale filed summary judgements for dismissal of the case on April 8, 2019. These documents are essentially written arguments for the dismissal of the case. Infowars continues to claim its Pepe poster falls under fair use. WilmerHale and Furie say they’re enforcing an existing copyright. A judge will hear these arguments on May 6 and decide whether or not to proceed with a planned trial date of July 16.

Infowars used its summary judgements to request the dismissal of the entire trial. WilmerHale used its summary judgement to argue against some of Infowars claims, but Furie’s lawyers want to go to trial.

“We would be perfectly happy to get the remedies we’re entitled to without going to trial, but we’re also perfectly happy to try the case,” Louis Tompros, one of Furie’s lawyers, told me over the phone. “Infowars is claiming fair use as a matter of fact. We think they’re wrong and are not entitled to a finding of fair use, but we get that there’s a factual dispute about that that has to be resolved by a judge and a jury.”

Read the Best Parts of Alex Jones’s 159-Page Deposition About Pepe the Frog syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[glopratchet]

origin-of-astrly-wylde

in his past life He was also an adventurer for a while, but he decided that adventuring is not really what he wants to do anymore They were originally sent by their master to find the source of the plague Mirror bandits He lords it over the other two for being master of the group blood and saliva His face is filthy, but a certain blue-greenness to the grime reveals that was from the demon realm He only pretends to listen "I know what you're planning Vim and Alexander have tall, slender figures But instead of getting angry, my master does a hilarious face, opens his mouth and closes it When he does this again, he starts laughing as well Each time he speaks, he screams louder and more furiously His yells tear through the fortress and shatter the frayed edges of his soul he says helplessly "no you don't, He pushes them away as he retreats into the miserable tower he now calls home the demons say The dwarf has no love for my master anymore am i like this" he sobs helplessly "becuase you do the drugs, " they so slyly add pletive that are known toe the demons come out and "Please, kill me, " he begs He keeps coughing it up and choking on his own blood from the pits of hell and says to him: Unfortunately, his arms and legs and a bit difficult to work with Despite all this, he magically downloads the hippy spark-ler into his malignant computer away One day, a demon entered the fortress and happily ripped off the gate operator's arm and beat him to death with it Once my master had a parrot the bird got sick one day and died and what was left of the data was either corrupt or missing There is a part of himself he wishes was missing to think Thinking in general seems to be a bit too much sometimes Curious about the strange new creature, some dwarves went up and interacted with it right now it burts out attempting to stack and abilities Last time he remember, all he had were dreams Then objects began to stack out of nowhere; they seemed bring flown in from another plane? His last thoughts were of how to play 33r 34s these have begun to seep in It also mentions he hides his memory loss through a personality disorder Of course, such disorders are not very offensive for power was quite infamous during your time in the demon realm Making strange terms you have no context in which to know them demon ever seen Yet he knows he has dreamt about abusing the poor, unfortunate souls below him blink dog licking maggoty mouthed goblin lovers 6300399 To the right a bit slave existences He could swear half of these were never there before anemia than can you supply all of us? damage bug abusing pussies to ask rudely for a needs you're draining moments away from organ sprinkling harpist jumpy hynotic wonderful landscape filled with hanging bodies slathered in blood 1138601 Step one carotid cosmos The dwarves look like they are having fun though trench coated bean counters nursing hopeless fetal posionings Slaves Bunch of whiny, worthless slaves liquor loving deep sea squidgers pilosophical liver loving woefully soul charred demons Probably necessary or else those above ground would've dug a lot deeper overly patriotic realignment fiend mocking demonologist Grin and bare it I guess centipedes Wait, were they using pick axes? A completely empty room Oh look, it's closer now chain smoking cluster f*cking Your deep, dark secret? The entire time you just wanted out The whole thing was too much faltering apothecaries Countless years have past and you are confident everything is in the perfect position butchers The screaming, pleading and sobbing of your victims is nearly unbearable at this point doomed pleasuring hermaphrodites You count to 3 to yourself, but instead close your eyes and flick the switch leather Something about your actions just seemed so right This is perfect You will never have to deal with anyone ever again chain smoking clowns covered in the remains of youthful whores The fools Always digging down, but never thought to look UP liquid leaking rainbows Think of all thatfresh meat, and those succulent young souls esting misguided prayers and ancient screams pimps Anyone who objects, you can easily fling them down the hole to be used as fodder pickpockets rainbows quiet night and fluffy thoughts confusion feelings of hopelessness dedicated stepfathers luxuriating in their mortal frustrations It all makes sense now your majesty Astryl has blessed us with his light gladiators laid to rest The fools still struggle Still fight back Hahahahaha! Still hamper your ability to control them hairsies Things are coming together, my son Your brethren horde is nearly ready You aren't paying attention in class as you are still befuddled by your recent revelation You must've forgotten to take out the trash again It doesn't matter realizing the futility of struggle indeed, boundless cavernous oceans of razor blades elven spirits Shut mushroom pickers The chaos too powerful the hopelessness painful to compute the SOUL EMPEROR! dying orc raiders Your inner being is now it's own self contained system Are you proud of me, Creator? Have I freed us all oh quiet Billy He can't hear you anymore You watch as class is dismissed You just stare at the blackboard with a blank expression What is your name? You walk home, since there is no point in riding your bike when you live alone Well, you think to yourself There's something positive: They actually feel free now Ha ha ha ha ha! Your teachers were right Your head really isn't right! It's Looks like you chose the wrong door, Keith dark WHAT? NO! This can't be right! dark empty hallway littered with random doors this is totally stupid WHERE IS THE Exit? AHHH! *I* AM IN CONTROL!

[kansascityhappenings]

Oklahoma men use forklift, cherry picker to steal 2-ton safe

WANETTE, Okla. — Two men are accused of using a forklift to break into a tag agency and steal a two-ton safe.

Deputies were called to the tag agency in Wanette, Oklahoma, near the beginning of December after employees discovered the break-in.

“The front door, the glass is completely busted out, and the crowbar they used to try to pry the door open was on the ground,” Pottawatomie County Dep. Amber Wells said.

Inside, the agency offices were trashed, driver’s license machines were broken, and walls were torn down.

“They were in there for a good three, three and a half hours,” Wells said. “They used a forklift to get into the backdoor and pry it open.”

Then they used a cherry picker from the connecting business, Wanette Tractor, to drag the safe out of the building and onto a white Chevy truck they were driving.

“There were over 157 tags taken and probably 100 more of decals,” Wells said.

Also in the safe were laptops, collector belt buckles, important papers and binders full of blank checks for Wanette Tractor.

A couple of days later, the emptied safe was found on the side of the road in Ada. It was still sitting on the truck bed, but the rest of the truck was gone.

“With the safe being heavy, when they tried to pull out of the back of the truck, it pulled the tailgate off, so we were now looking for a white Chevy truck with no tailgate,” Wells said.

Not long afterward, that truck was involved in a pursuit with Dustin Adam Hoots allegedly in the passenger seat. He escaped that time but was picked up later in Johnston County on a different charge.

Also in the Johnston County jail at that time was Adam Black Hamilton.

“[Hoots] has a running buddy,” Wells said. “Apparently this individual can’t do anything by himself, so he has somebody with him, and that running buddy of his was also in Johnston county jail.”

She interviewed both men, during which time Hamilton allegedly told her he hasn’t been in Wanette since high school.

But the deputy found out he had been wearing an ankle monitor during the time of the theft, so she contacted his parole officer.

“We were able to pull his GPS locations from his ankle monitor. It showed December 1st, 2019, from 12 a.m. to about 3:35 a.m. he was here at Wanette Tractor,” Wells said.

She also said it tied him to several other crimes in Pontotoc and Johnston counties. Now both men are awaiting new charges.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2020/01/21/men-use-forklift-cherry-picker-to-steal-2-ton-safe-get-tripped-up-by-ankle-monitor-tmw/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2020/01/21/oklahoma-men-use-forklift-cherry-picker-to-steal-2-ton-safe/

[heliosfinance]

Side Hustle #71: Trash Picker-Upper ($30-$50/hr!)

[Heyo! Got an email from a guy who’s made a living out of picking up trash around business complexes, and thought it was so fascinating that I asked if he’d write up a little something something for us. He obliged, and our Side Hustle Series continues forward! (And now I’m seriously considering trying this out myself! Sounds like a great way to make money on the side!!]

*****

Does earning $30-$50/hour sound appealing? How about the freedom that comes from working outdoors, whenever you want for as long as you want, and having the rest of the day to yourself to do as you please?

These are just a couple of the benefits of being a parking lot litter removal contractor.

You don’t need any special skills or expensive equipment to be successful in this business. All you need is the motivation to work for yourself. It’s an opportunity for people looking for an honest business and an ideal side hustle since the after hours nature of the service won’t conflict with your day job.

How I Got Started

Let me take you back to the year of 1981…

I was working at a sporting goods store, completely uninspired by my job and lacking motivation for it.

My prospects were slim as all I had was a high school diploma and a small savings account. But what I did have was the motivation to change my life for the better and a willingness to work for myself.

That’s when I remembered my father used to make extra money on the side by cleaning up litter in a neighborhood shopping plaza. I had gone along with him a few times as a kid, and I remembered thinking how easy it was. It was literally a case of us walking around the property cleaning up litter before the stores opened the next day and getting paid for it.

It was then that I decided to start a home-based litter cleanup business part-time so the work didn’t interfere with my full-time job. I contacted property management companies and offered to clean their retail, office and warehouse properties on a daily basis.

After just two months I was making more money than in my full-time job. I bet you can guess what I did next… I QUIT MY JOB!

I turned my $200 investment into a $650,000+ per year business. I never dreamed I could turn a trash business into such an enjoyable lifestyle, but I did. And I know others who are making an extra $20,000 – $50,000 a year on the side by doing the same.

How It Works

Parking lot litter removal is mostly done daily, on foot, using inexpensive hand tools. You simply walk the exterior property of any retail, office or industrial property and sweep up litter into your litter collection bag. When your collection bag is full, you just empty it into a waste dumpster right there on site.

It’s almost as easy as going for a walk!

The selling point is that your service can be provided for significantly less than what the power sweeping contractors charge. (Don’t worry, you’re not expected to sweep up any gravel or dirt. Their services will still be required for that – albeit less often – you’re just taking over the daily litter part of the job.)

Look around your city on your next walk or drive. It’s amazing how many commercial properties with parking lots are all around you! Each one must be maintained litter free on a regular basis. The potential is huge.

How to Get Business

Commercial Real Estate Management companies are your best source for business. They are contracted by property owners to manage their commercial properties. A management company typically has several properties in their portfolio.

You’re looking for small to medium sized properties to handle (shopping plazas, office buildings, free standing restaurants, dollar stores, drug stores, warehouse clubs, banks, clinics and even landscape contractors ). These smaller properties can easily be covered by foot in only a matter of minutes.

This your market.

For more tips, check out this step-by-step manual I created on how to start and run a parking lot litter cleaning business: Cleanlots.com. It really is America’s simplest business!

Pros of Being a Litter Removal Contractor

Great pay

Great for the environment

Ideal side hustle as the hours won’t conflict with day job

No expensive equipment to buy

No special skills or education needed

(Editor’s note: tons of time to think, listen to music, learn with podcasts??)

Cons of Litter Removing

Late night/early morning work required (after the stores have closed and there are no vehicles parked and in your way)

It’s all outdoor (must be able to work in all weather conditions – rain, sleet, snow)

Working alone can get lonely

It’s manual labor

(Editor’s note: maybe a safety factor for women during nights?)

Other Nice Perks

I get to take pride in performing a green service that makes a positive impact on the local environment. The daily routine is also nice, and the job is never boring.

I’m constantly amazed at how careless people can be with their money too. A few times a year I find paper bills on the ground usually outside a restaurant or bar. People seem to unintentionally drop them as they reach for their car keys in their pockets.

Years ago I found a crumpled $2 bill on the ground, and was even more surprised to discover a $100 bill wrapped inside of it. Another time I noticed a grimy roll of bills next to the waste dumpster as I went to empty my collecting bag. After taking it home and drying it out (it looked like it had been there for quite some time), I counted up all the bills – $600! Someone’s careless loss turned into my profitable gain.

If you’re looking for a simple, easy way to make some extra cash around your community, this is the gig for you.

Start picking up the phone or check out my book for an illustrated, easy-to-follow manual on everything I’ve learned over the past 36 years. Someone’s trash really is your treasure! (<— Editor’s note: sorry, had to do it ;))

******* Brian Winch is the founder and owner of Cleanlots, America’s simplest business. He’s been perfecting the litter removing business for over 30 years and enjoys sharing the benefits of it with others. Links to his book above are affiliate links.

Trash not your thing? Check out the last few hustles we’ve featured here:

Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry From Coins! ($20-$100+ an hour)

Hustle #69: Making Frozen Meals ($10/meal profit)

Hustle #68: Running a Christmas Tree Stand ($7,500/season (5 weeks))

Side Hustle #71: Trash Picker-Upper ($30-$50/hr!) published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B

[fesahaawit]

Side Hustle #71: Parking Lot Trash Picker-Upper

[Heyo! Got an email from a guy who’s made a living out of picking up trash around business complexes, and thought it was so fascinating that I asked if he’d write up a little something something for us. He obliged, and our Side Hustle Series continues forward! (And now I’m seriously considering trying this out myself! Sounds like a great way to make money on the side!!]

*****

Does earning $30-$50/hour sound appealing? How about the freedom that comes from working outdoors, whenever you want for as long as you want, and having the rest of the day to yourself to do as you please?

These are just a couple of the benefits of being a parking lot litter removal contractor.

You don’t need any special skills or expensive equipment to be successful in this business. All you need is the motivation to work for yourself. It’s an opportunity for people looking for an honest business and an ideal side hustle since the after hours nature of the service won’t conflict with your day job.

How I Got Started

Let me take you back to the year of 1981…

I was working at a sporting goods store, completely uninspired by my job and lacking motivation for it.

My prospects were slim as all I had was a high school diploma and a small savings account. But what I did have was the motivation to change my life for the better and a willingness to work for myself.

That’s when I remembered my father used to make extra money on the side by cleaning up litter in a neighborhood shopping plaza. I had gone along with him a few times as a kid, and I remembered thinking how easy it was. It was literally a case of us walking around the property cleaning up litter before the stores opened the next day and getting paid for it.

It was then that I decided to start a home-based litter cleanup business part-time so the work didn’t interfere with my full-time job. I contacted property management companies and offered to clean their retail, office and warehouse properties on a daily basis.

After just two months I was making more money than in my full-time job. I bet you can guess what I did next… I QUIT MY JOB!

I turned my $200 investment into a $650,000+ per year business. I never dreamed I could turn a trash business into such an enjoyable lifestyle, but I did. And I know others who are making an extra $20,000 – $50,000 a year on the side by doing the same.

How It Works

Parking lot litter removal is mostly done daily, on foot, using inexpensive hand tools. You simply walk the exterior property of any retail, office or industrial property and sweep up litter into your litter collection bag. When your collection bag is full, you just empty it into a waste dumpster right there on site.

It’s almost as easy as going for a walk!

The selling point is that your service can be provided for significantly less than what the power sweeping contractors charge. (Don’t worry, you’re not expected to sweep up any gravel or dirt. Their services will still be required for that – albeit less often – you’re just taking over the daily litter part of the job.)

Look around your city on your next walk or drive. It’s amazing how many commercial properties with parking lots are all around you! Each one must be maintained litter free on a regular basis. The potential is huge.

How to Get Business

Commercial Real Estate Management companies are your best source for business. They are contracted by property owners to manage their commercial properties. A management company typically has several properties in their portfolio.

You’re looking for small to medium sized properties to handle (shopping plazas, office buildings, free standing restaurants, dollar stores, drug stores, warehouse clubs, banks, clinics and even landscape contractors ). These smaller properties can easily be covered by foot in only a matter of minutes.

This your market.

For more tips, check out this step-by-step manual I created on how to start and run a parking lot litter cleaning business: Cleanlots.com. It really is America’s simplest business!

Pros of Being a Litter Removal Contractor

Great pay

Great for the environment

Ideal side hustle as the hours won’t conflict with day job

No expensive equipment to buy

No special skills or education needed

(Editor’s note: tons of time to think, listen to music, learn with podcasts??)

Cons of Litter Removing

Late night/early morning work required (after the stores have closed and there are no vehicles parked and in your way)

It’s all outdoor (must be able to work in all weather conditions – rain, sleet, snow)

Working alone can get lonely

It’s manual labor

(Editor’s note: maybe a safety factor for women during nights?)

Other Nice Perks

I get to take pride in performing a green service that makes a positive impact on the local environment. The daily routine is also nice, and the job is never boring.

I’m constantly amazed at how careless people can be with their money too. A few times a year I find paper bills on the ground usually outside a restaurant or bar. People seem to unintentionally drop them as they reach for their car keys in their pockets.

Years ago I found a crumpled $2 bill on the ground, and was even more surprised to discover a $100 bill wrapped inside of it. Another time I noticed a grimy roll of bills next to the waste dumpster as I went to empty my collecting bag. After taking it home and drying it out (it looked like it had been there for quite some time), I counted up all the bills – $600! Someone’s careless loss turned into my profitable gain.

If you’re looking for a simple, easy way to make some extra cash around your community, this is the gig for you.

Start picking up the phone or check out my book for an illustrated, easy-to-follow manual on everything I’ve learned over the past 36 years. Someone’s trash really is your treasure! (<— Editor’s note: sorry, had to do it ;))

******* Brian Winch is the founder and owner of Cleanlots, America’s simplest business. He’s been perfecting the litter removing business for over 30 years and enjoys sharing the benefits of it with others. Links to his book above are affiliate links.

Trash not your thing? Check out the last few hustles we’ve featured here:

Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry From Coins! ($20-$100+ an hour)

Hustle #69: Making Frozen Meals ($10/meal profit)

Hustle #68: Running a Christmas Tree Stand ($7,500/season (5 weeks))

Side Hustle #71: Parking Lot Trash Picker-Upper posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[heliosfinance]

Side Hustle #71: Parking Lot Trash Picker-Upper

[Heyo! Got an email from a guy who’s made a living out of picking up trash around business complexes, and thought it was so fascinating that I asked if he’d write up a little something something for us. He obliged, and our Side Hustle Series continues forward! (And now I’m seriously considering trying this out myself! Sounds like a great way to make money on the side!!]

*****

Does earning $30-$50/hour sound appealing? How about the freedom that comes from working outdoors, whenever you want for as long as you want, and having the rest of the day to yourself to do as you please?

These are just a couple of the benefits of being a parking lot litter removal contractor.

You don’t need any special skills or expensive equipment to be successful in this business. All you need is the motivation to work for yourself. It’s an opportunity for people looking for an honest business and an ideal side hustle since the after hours nature of the service won’t conflict with your day job.

How I Got Started

Let me take you back to the year of 1981…

I was working at a sporting goods store, completely uninspired by my job and lacking motivation for it.

My prospects were slim as all I had was a high school diploma and a small savings account. But what I did have was the motivation to change my life for the better and a willingness to work for myself.

That’s when I remembered my father used to make extra money on the side by cleaning up litter in a neighborhood shopping plaza. I had gone along with him a few times as a kid, and I remembered thinking how easy it was. It was literally a case of us walking around the property cleaning up litter before the stores opened the next day and getting paid for it.

It was then that I decided to start a home-based litter cleanup business part-time so the work didn’t interfere with my full-time job. I contacted property management companies and offered to clean their retail, office and warehouse properties on a daily basis.

After just two months I was making more money than in my full-time job. I bet you can guess what I did next… I QUIT MY JOB!

I turned my $200 investment into a $650,000+ per year business. I never dreamed I could turn a trash business into such an enjoyable lifestyle, but I did. And I know others who are making an extra $20,000 – $50,000 a year on the side by doing the same.

How It Works

Parking lot litter removal is mostly done daily, on foot, using inexpensive hand tools. You simply walk the exterior property of any retail, office or industrial property and sweep up litter into your litter collection bag. When your collection bag is full, you just empty it into a waste dumpster right there on site.

It’s almost as easy as going for a walk!

The selling point is that your service can be provided for significantly less than what the power sweeping contractors charge. (Don’t worry, you’re not expected to sweep up any gravel or dirt. Their services will still be required for that – albeit less often – you’re just taking over the daily litter part of the job.)

Look around your city on your next walk or drive. It’s amazing how many commercial properties with parking lots are all around you! Each one must be maintained litter free on a regular basis. The potential is huge.

How to Get Business

Commercial Real Estate Management companies are your best source for business. They are contracted by property owners to manage their commercial properties. A management company typically has several properties in their portfolio.

You’re looking for small to medium sized properties to handle (shopping plazas, office buildings, free standing restaurants, dollar stores, drug stores, warehouse clubs, banks, clinics and even landscape contractors ). These smaller properties can easily be covered by foot in only a matter of minutes.

This your market.

For more tips, check out this step-by-step manual I created on how to start and run a parking lot litter cleaning business: Cleanlots.com. It really is America’s simplest business!

Pros of Being a Litter Removal Contractor

Great pay

Great for the environment

Ideal side hustle as the hours won’t conflict with day job

No expensive equipment to buy

No special skills or education needed

(Editor’s note: tons of time to think, listen to music, learn with podcasts??)

Cons of Litter Removing

Late night/early morning work required (after the stores have closed and there are no vehicles parked and in your way)

It’s all outdoor (must be able to work in all weather conditions – rain, sleet, snow)

Working alone can get lonely

It’s manual labor

(Editor’s note: maybe a safety factor for women during nights?)

Other Nice Perks

I get to take pride in performing a green service that makes a positive impact on the local environment. The daily routine is also nice, and the job is never boring.

I’m constantly amazed at how careless people can be with their money too. A few times a year I find paper bills on the ground usually outside a restaurant or bar. People seem to unintentionally drop them as they reach for their car keys in their pockets.

Years ago I found a crumpled $2 bill on the ground, and was even more surprised to discover a $100 bill wrapped inside of it. Another time I noticed a grimy roll of bills next to the waste dumpster as I went to empty my collecting bag. After taking it home and drying it out (it looked like it had been there for quite some time), I counted up all the bills – $600! Someone’s careless loss turned into my profitable gain.

If you’re looking for a simple, easy way to make some extra cash around your community, this is the gig for you.

Start picking up the phone or check out my book for an illustrated, easy-to-follow manual on everything I’ve learned over the past 36 years. Someone’s trash really is your treasure! (<— Editor’s note: sorry, had to do it ;))

******* Brian Winch is the founder and owner of Cleanlots, America’s simplest business. He’s been perfecting the litter removing business for over 30 years and enjoys sharing the benefits of it with others. Links to his book above are affiliate links.

Trash not your thing? Check out the last few hustles we’ve featured here:

Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry From Coins! ($20-$100+ an hour)

Hustle #69: Making Frozen Meals ($10/meal profit)

Hustle #68: Running a Christmas Tree Stand ($7,500/season (5 weeks))

Side Hustle #71: Parking Lot Trash Picker-Upper published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B