toxic load

It Ain’t Me

Originally posted by avenuepotter

Pairing: Jughead Jones III x Reader 

Summary: Jughead broke up with you and he tried to win you back, but it was when he wasn’t on his best state.

Word count: 945

Posted: 27th of October 2017

A/N: It’s officially my Halloween holidays, finally! I was so fed up of school and I was always tired. I am back from my hiatus and I will try to write as many imagines as I can in these days.

I am posting another Jughead imagine, because I am so in love with Cole and I use him as my inspiration, but if you ever want, I can also write for someone else. I promise that I will post some 13 reasons why imagines too, I need to finish my prompt requests.

Anyways, thank you for your support and I never thought that my first Jughead imagine would get so much likes. I am so happy! Thank you guys ad I hope you enjoy this too! I am waiting for some feedbacks, thanks!

- G. x

Warning: (Y/N) is Your Name.

“A-Are you having fun?” A familiar drunk boy intensely slurred in your ear in a low tone as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulders. You shook your head in response and you pushed him away since his presence made you feel uncomfortable. You perfectly knew who he was and your memories together suddenly kicked in your mind once again, making some tears roll down your rosy cheeks. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Jughead, you are already drunk.” Your heart raced as you saw his face and you realized how wasted he was. “Just go home.”

“Then let’s go home.” He was having a hard time to process the words that came out from your mouth, obviously he couldn’t hear you through the loud music, but he managed to answer you properly.

“Jug, I am the last person that you would expect to bring you home.” You honestly told him, holding back your tears as you didn’t want for the people around you notice everything.

“Why? (Y/N), you are my girlfriend. Aren’t you?” He was confused but euphoric at the same time. The alcohol started to kick in and he couldn’t think straight anymore. You started to search for Betty’s gaze from the crowd as you needed someone who would take care of Jughead. It was somehow hard since the club was dark and crowded, but you happily thanked her when she finally noticed you.

“Jug,” A sweet voice called your attention as she tried to help the boy in front of you. “I’m walking you home, let’s go.”

“No! I want (Y/N).” Jughead slightly pushed Betty and he moved forward to lazily wrap his arms around your waist. “I need you, (Y/N).” His hot breath hit your neck as he pulled you even closer to him. You smelled the scent of the alcohol and you realized how broken Jughead was. He was never the party type, he was more of nerdy type and you fell in love with that Jughead, not with the one who was hugging you right now. But maybe he did it because of you. He was heartbroken, downhearted and in pieces.

He fragmented his own heart and he was trying to put them back together. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was having a hard time doing it, mostly now that you weren’t with him anymore.

“Jug,” You caressed his raven coloured hair whilst you silently shushed him. Seeing your ex-boyfriend in that state devastated you even more, because you still loved him and you would stay with him forever, but it was his choice to leave you. He broke up with you for a certain reason that you refused to understand and you couldn’t do anything but to respect it. “you already pushed me away. I don’t belong to you anymore.”

“No, it’s not true!” He answered as you felt his stinging hot tears against your neck and collarbone. He was wasted and you perfectly knew that he was trying to escape from his problem by drinking loads of toxic alcoholic drinks. “You are still going home with me, you would sing me to sleep, like always, and,” he cut himself as he choked himself with his own tears.

“Jughead, that’s enough.” Archie patted Jughead’s back as he tried to break the boy’s tight grip on your waist. “You are drunk and everything will get better once you take some rest.” Archie lied through his teeth, hoping to convince the poor boy. You knew how much headache he would have, you knew how hungry he would be, you knew how much he would want to cuddle with you the whole day. You knew what would happen the next day, but, unluckily, you wouldn’t be there to take care of him. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)! I am a stupid boy and remember that I still love you, no matter what.” He desperately cried and gave up on convincing you to walk him home. He let you go and, suddenly, you felt weak and incomplete. You wanted him too, you wanted him back.

“Jug, I still love you too, but you are just drunk. You don’t know what you are saying.” You caressed his wet cheeks with your right hand and you flashed him a sad smile. You knew that he would forget everything the day after, the Jughead that broke up with you would be there the next day, asking himself what was he thinking with his unstable mind the night before. “I would love to be with you, but this time: it ain’t me. I can’t do that anymore.”

“(Y/N), you know that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart. Right?” He seriously and hopelessly asked, but he turned his back away from you, leaving Betty and Archie with you, when he realized that he would never get the answer. He tried to find his way home: alone, without his better half.

“Sorry, Jug.” You murmured as your tears streamed down your face once again. Archie gave you a sad and deluded smile before following his broken hearted and wasted friend.

Jughead was stupid, but you were stupider because you let him go, pushing him away as if you didn’t love him anymore.

“A masochist.” You told to yourself as you tried to find your way out of the chaotic place you were in, leaving Betty behind.

In fact, you were. Not only because you pushed your loved one away, but also because you preferred to suffer rather than being happy with him. He clearly wanted you back, but you chose to respect his wrong and despicable choice.

I’m currently writing a 20 page review paper on persistent organic pollutants in killer whales, and it has been a real eye opener.

Killer whale populations all over the world, including my own local populations, are absolutely loaded with toxic organic compounds such as PCBs, PBDEs, and DDT. These compounds are interfering with reproduction, the immune system, the endocrine system, and maybe even more.

They’re wreaking havoc and doing serious damage to killer whale populations that are already struggling from food shortages, like the southern residents.

All of these pollutants originate from us—humans. We’ve caused this. And even though we banned and largely reduced the usage of many of these compounds, they’re not going away anytime soon, and we’re going to see the effects of them for generations to come.

Summary: A BonesxReader that’s set during ID when the Vengeance is crashing down on earth: The reader is an engineer stationed in San Francisco during the crash (Bones knows that), survives it without being injured and then starts to help fix things after everything calms down (Bones doesn’t know that) and when he lands on earth and hears that the reader is on the ‘battlefield’ he freaks out? But then everything turns into fluff? (: for @littlecarowrites

Notes: I’m so sorry it took so long! Hope you like it! ((also first bones fic omg y’all))

Word count: 1222

Tag: @usscomics @youre-on-a-starship @trekken81 @yourtropegirl @enterprisewriting @imoutofmyvulcanmind @starshiphufflebadger @ussimagine@kaitymccoy123 @starmission @outside-the-government @imaginestartrek @paigeinastory @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @bkwrm523 @frostedej

While sliding around the corridors of the flagship, Leonard’s focus was 100% on the job at hand – making sure nobody ends up dead. The ship was falling down from the sky and pulled towards the Earth by its gravity. A one-way trip to certain death and imminent destruction.

Usually, as a grump that he is, he’d whine about the weight of his toolbox. Even though he always knew it’s in the job description, he would’ve sometimes wished he could just throw it into open space and never see that damned thing again. Now, though, while running around the ship making sure everybody gets home in a single piece and with a pulse, he did not feel the weight of the box. Despite the grip on the box’s handle being real tight, he even forgot it was there until he had any real use of it.

Only once did he take away a few moments to focus on something other than the task. ‘My mother was right. Hell is real.’ he thought to himself, a single eyebrow cocked. What never even crossed his mind, though, was you. And not because he didn’t care, far from it, he loved you more than life and treasured you more than booze (and Bones is quite a lover of fine alcohol). He was just unconsciously sure that you were in safety, based on nothing specific, and that enabled the mind to concentrate on other lives at stake.

And the exact same thing happened to you.

While watching a big, black, unknown ship fall down in flames and destroy 1/3 of San Francisco, you were scared. And the moment they placed you, an ordinary officer, on a commander’s spot and set you to repair the damage that was done, you were fucking terrified. ‘Out of all the things that could fall from space it had to be a big-ass ship with an infinite number of weapons and loads of toxic matter and nuclear energy?’ you screamed at nobody in particular before rushing to the scene with a toolbox in one hand and a communicator in the other.

Needless to say, your brain was on the verge of catching fire and exploding in your skull. You were constantly being called from 5 different directions and 10 different places. You were forced to answer them all whilst figuring out how to fix the problem in your own hands. Not to mention that all the machinery was extremely delicate and shit could hit the fan real fast if something wrong was done.

While speaking, thinking and working with your hands all at the same time, there wasn’t any space for your beloved doctor in your mind.

Luckily, it all turned out fine for Bones. Engineering pulled some strings, Sulu sprinkled some magic fairy dust and, god bless, the Enterprise stopped just before crashing, burning, exploding and killing everybody.

Bones threw himself in an empty seat in medbay and sighed.

The ship did have a few scratches and bruises here and there, but nothing Scotty and a good engineering team back on Earth couldn’t fixed.

Wait a moment.

Engineering team.

“Y/N! Shit!” Bones yelled, voice achieving and echo as the room was previously silent.

His eyes widened with pure fear while his mind scream at itself, disappointed by how he didn’t even think of you. He jumped from the chair and basically threw himself at a nearby computer.

“Locate Commander Y/L/N, Y/N, Engineering.”

“Commander Y/L, Y/N, Starfleet Headquarters.”

That’s where the Vengeance crashed.

Leonard sprinted out the door and straight to the bridge. He pushed through a sea of officers, forcing everybody and everything out of his way. Those few moments he spent in the turbolift, he spent them cursing at the damn thing for not going any faster. It appeared when Bones became worried, time flew in slow motion and his pulse skyrocketed. Not to mention that curse words star flying out of his mouth limitlessly. As he entered the bridge, Chekov didn’t even have time to announce his presence to the captain.

“Uhura, connect me to Starfleet HQ right now!”

Jim stood up from his chair with a bewildered look on his face and turned to his best friend and partner-in-crime.

“Bones? What-“

But as soon as he said the man’s name, Bones turned around and sent a glare Jim had never seen before in his entire life. Eyes full of passion, resentment, rage and love. Jim did not dare spend another moment analyzing those eyes, so he quietly returned to his spot.

“All frequencies open, but I can’t reach them. I’m sorry Bones.”

But before the young woman could finish her sentence, Leonard was out the door and in the turbolift once more.

This time, he headed directly to the transporter room with a clear goal on his mind. Before the door swished and closed, the doctor was already being beamed down to Earth. He had to remember to thank Jim later – it was he who announced Leonard’s arrival and destination to Scotty. Turns out he knows Bones better than he even thought.

You were working on picking out and storing pieces from the fallen ship which would be used in future creations (hopefully not secret ones), because even Starfleet believes in reusing unharmed whole parts.

You kneeled on the hull and bent down to scavenge a little more, just to make sure all the non-faulty parts were taken out. Later you picked up the box and turned around, just to drop it on the ground once more, this time because you suddenly lost all strength in your arms.

It was Leonard.

10 meters away from you and nearing, a dead serious look on his face. You choked on thin air as a stray tear came rolling down your dirty cheek. You closed your eyes and rubbed them, and only managed to take one step before being enveloped in a pair of strong arms. One of his hands held on your back and the other pressing your head to his warm chest, the beat of his heart calming your already wrecked nerves. Due to visible height difference, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your fingers intertwining on his lower back. Both of you pressed with equal force, with each squeeze negative energy pouring out of you and being replaced with nothing short of love.

You stood there for quite a long time. The way you held each other, it wasn’t just about physical contact. Together with body heat and tension relief, the two of you shared emotions via touch – something only people who are truly in love would be able to do. Together with your bodies your minds were in a peaceful place of their own. Contrary to chaotic thoughts that were swarming through your brains just an hour ago, your minds cleared of all worries. You were in Leonard’s arms and he was in yours. You were both alive and unscathed, and that’s all that mattered to you.

Even though the two of you stood like that for about 17 minutes, for you it felt like centuries.

Bones pulled away for a moment, still never letting go of you, almost like he was afraid that he’d lose you if he did. Before you could say anything, your lips collided and happiness came over you all over again.


The 12 biggest SCIENCE LIES you’ve been told by corporations, government and the corrupt media 

SCIENCE LIE #1: Weed killer is safe to eat

TRUTH: Glyphosate weed killer causes cancer, infertility, kidney damage and birth defects. And it’s found in instant oatmeal!

SCIENCE LIE #2: Statin drugs are good for you

TRUTH: Statins destroy brain function and cause dementia and memory loss. They also cause muscle fatigue and crippling weakness.

SCIENCE LIE #3: Food and nutrients cannot treat, cure or prevent any disease

TRUTH: Many foods contain powerful anti-cancer medicines that can destroy tumors far better than chemotherapy. Try turmeric!

SCIENCE LIE #4: Biosolids are “organic fertilizers” that are safe to use on home gardens.

TRUTH: Biosolids are actually recycled human sewage and industrial waste from cities. They’re extremely toxic and loaded with heavy metals, industrial chemicals and prescription drugs.

SCIENCE LIE #5: When it comes to cancer, early detection saves lives

TRUTH: Early detection actually destroys lives with unnecessary “treatment” for cancers that weren’t real or didn’t pose any threat to the patient. More people are killed by cancer treatments than by cancer!

SCIENCE LIE #6: GMOs have been proven safe by rigorous science

TRUTH: All that so-called “science” is false science fabricated by the biotech industry that profits from selling GMO seeds. Scientists who oppose Big Biotech are threatened into silence.

SCIENCE LIE #7: Mercury has been removed from all vaccines

TRUTH: Mercury, a toxic heavy metal, is still used in flu shots given to children. All vaccines preserved with “Thimerosal” contain mercury. Mercury is toxic at ANY dose!

SCIENCE LIE #8: Vaccines are not linked to autism

TRUTH: Vaccines’ link to autism was already admitted by CDC scientist and whistleblower Dr. William Thompson, who helped hide the fact from the public.

SCIENCE LIE #9: Rising CO2 levels will destroy the planet

TRUTH: CO2 is food for plants! Rising CO2 actually “greens” the planet and accelerates reforestation, plant growth and food crop production.

SCIENCE LIE #10: Prescription drugs treat disease

TRUTH: Drugs only mask disease symptoms while interfering with human physiology to cause toxicity and side effects. They never “treat” the cause of disease.

SCIENCE LIE #11: Unborn babies are just “tissue” and not really humans

TRUTH: Unborn babies are alive and conscious. They can feel pain, experience joy and are aware of what’s happening to them.

SCIENCE LIE #12: Vaccines halt the spread of disease

TRUTH: Nearly all outbreaks of measles and mumps occur among children who were already 100% vaccinated!

Fuuuuuck I Love Being a Pervert

Reasons to love your perversion conversion:

1. The capability to accept, embrace and act upon our perversions goes to show how much work we’ve put into slamming and how much we’ve damaged our brains,ignoring the warning lights that always seem to be blinking and continuing our junkie cycle!

2. My perversions inherently point of the extent of damage done to my brain, even though I couldn’t give two flying fucks about, but I do appreciate the apathy towards the damage and possible consequences. Recklessness is hot, especially when meth rewards you the more you do it!

3. Your perversions are sexual achievements your mind unearths and absorbs. The more perversions you accept, the more willing you’ve become to act upon them or see what else you can embrace.

4. Succumbing to indulging and embracing taboos of perversion are wonderful indicators of how evil you’ve become and how happy you are. Fucking in public is pretty evil, but demeaning your own humanity because you can’t resist how how it is to suck off a dog is not only a level down more evil, but the eagerness in physically partaking in demeaning your own humanity and revel in your lowly filth.

5. And finally, how proud I am to be able to act upon and declare each and every sick and arousing depravity. It’s so important to pursue my need for AIDS that when being fucked in public, I’m not finding shame in society’s disgust in me and how repulsive I am begging for the top fucking me by the tree on the island to dump his toxic load in me. Instead, I’m aroused and encouraged! It’s encouraging to know society is disgusted in my bug chasing and public fucking; or how hot it would be to record me slamming a .7 and tweaking out over my love for Satan, how devout I am to meth and evil, and worshiping horse cock with complete abandon for as long as my hand will hold my camera then give  final wink as my mouth is full of horse cock and post it to Facebook for all of my friends to see, cry and say goodbye to whatever opinions they used to have of me coz this meth-loving, evil-abiding, Satanist perv is leaving to go join others like him and motivated similarly. Before I go however, gonna visit my godson and keep his smooth ass close to where I can see it! Soon I’ll take indulge so selfishly, so self-indulgent and finding absolute pleasure ruining an innocent and corrupting you with drugs and all the consequences I’ll get turned on by. I smile thinking about stealing a young boy, subduing him with drugs and film our first time, sexually use him until I’m done so either sell or toss. And isn’t it so beautiful to admit all of that?

Hahaha, I’m so fucked in the head, there’s no going back, might as well keep watching porn, slamming meth and thanking Satan for all the evils rotting my core and expanding my sexuality allowing me fetishize unforgivable acts corrupting and destroying another, but enjoying the opportunity with a psychotic and shameless grin spread ear to ear. To say I understand the Joker is one thing, to say he’s not trying hard enough and could be worse? Yeah, but those would be some beautiful comics. Batman, Nightwing, Com. Gordon all succumbed to the Joker’s new product, turning them all immediately into smiling, mindless, horny fools completely and without question susceptible to suggestion. Joker has a group of young boy scouts he got as presents for his new sadistic friends. And the laughs he would have watching three men of justice and law, violently rape these terrified scouts, and laugh along with the Joker! 

Break these chains

Because I’m stubborn and I need them to talk about this.

“What happened to you ‘n’ Tyreese on the road, before Terminus?”

His voice was a low rasp as he gently wound the bandage around her forearm after cleaning the long knife cut she’d incurred during the fight against the Saviors. Thankfully, the armor she’d been issued by the Kingdom people had protected her from any major injuries, but he needed to be sure that this was well taken care of before they did anything else. His large, square hands and plump fingers were, as always, amazingly gentle as he worked on her. Between his careful, light touches and the painkiller he’d insisted she take as soon as he’d seen that she’d been hurt, the wound didn’t bother her at all.

It was his question that was bothering her.

How did he know what time to focus on? Surely Tyreese himself hadn’t told Daryl anything before his death, when he had been the one to extract a promise of silence from her?

She tried to distract Daryl by fumbling with her blouse sleeve, and as she’d hoped, he helped her with rolling it down over her arm again, careful to avoid the cut under the dressing.

But this was Daryl, and she should have known better, she thought with chagrin as he looked up at her through his sweaty bangs after buttoning her sleeve around her wrist.

He didn’t even have to repeat his question - his eyes were doing his talking for him, as they so often did.

Carol felt heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks and ears, and her breath started coming in short gasps as she allowed her mind to go back to the pecan grove for just a heartbeat, remembering Lizzie with the knife in her hand, dripping with her younger sister’s blood, that completely detached look in her eyes as she talked about gathering flowers so Mika would be able to enjoy them when she “came back”.

The pain knifed through Carol’s heart, rolling and cresting inside her like a wave, robbing her of the air in her lungs as her guilt over Mika’s death overwhelmed her yet once more. Another girl she hadn’t been able to save. Had there been any warning signs that she had overlooked or, worse, ignored? Would there have been anything, anything at all, that she could have done to prevent this tragedy?

“‘s about the girls, right?”

There was no blame in his voice, only concern.

But there was pain in his eyes. Ever since their search for B*th in Atlanta, when she had told him it had been “worse than that”, he had known that this was a highly sensitive subject for her, and until today, he had avoided putting any pressure on her about this - first because she had been unwilling to talk about it for some reason, maybe to avoid the pain of this particular loss, and later because he’d waited for her to come to him by choice once she felt ready.

“Why are you asking me this? Why now?”

He seemed to withdraw into himself at her question. His teeth started worrying the inside of his cheek and lower lip, and at the same time he started nibbling on the skin around his fingernails. He also ran his right thumb over a cigarette burn on his left hand, at the root of his thumb, once, twice, before taking a deep breath that sounded as if he’d been suffocating.

“Something changed in you out there. Something … broke.”

She’d felt him searching for the right word, and his choice sounded right to her. Something inside her had broken over the death of the girls, and she wasn’t certain that it would ever heal again.

“There was … Rick sending you away, and I’m guessing that plays a part in it, too. And then something happened with the girls, and that was … kinda the final straw, and something … broke, and it hasn’t mended yet.”

She wondered if he had ever had a chance to read her farewell letter that she’d written before leaving Alexandria, or if he just knew, the way he seemed to know her inside and out, that Rick sending her away, saying nobody would want her at the prison anymore, had been the first crack in her armor. She guessed it was probably the latter. What with all that had happened at that time, he might never have had the time to even ask if she had left a note behind or if she’d just left.

Abraham, murdered.

Glenn, murdered.

Daryl getting shot, and taken, and kept in a cell, and tortured.

Her heart ached. Daryl hadn’t talked about this yet, and she wondered if he ever would. So far, the only one who had told her about this was Morgan.

“Whatever happened with the girls, ‘m sure you did what you could to protect them. You’re brave, and strong, and you’re capable. There’s nothing anyone coulda done about it, if they died even though you were there.”

There was no question in his voice, no probing. He still wasn’t trying to get her to talk about it. What she heard in his voice was confidence and trust in her, the conviction that, just like him, she would do anything, always, to protect those depending on her for their safety.

His words stung, the memories straining to escape, and tears welled behind her closed eyelids. What had she done to earn such unconditional trust? And from someone who found it so hard to put his trust in anyone but himself?

“And ya saved Judith.”

Carol felt Daryl’s eyes on her like a physical touch now, and his concern for her like a warm blanket. His deep and, yes, loving care for her somehow increased the pressure on the bubble in which she had locked away the events at the grove and the guilt and pain from them, and she felt her defenses failing.

The final straw, the thing that undid her in the end, was his arm slowly coming up around her shoulders to pull her against his chest, his other hand cradling her head the way he had after Terminus, and at the Saviour compound, and on the porch of her little house on the periphery of the Kingdom. He knew now, yet he still held her in his arms, and it was this that pushed her over the edge.

His body heat, his scent under the stench of gunpowder and blood, the touch of his hand on her skin, all increased that ache inside her until the bubble finally burst, releasing its toxic load of pain and grief and horror, and she started weeping against his shoulder, not in loud sobs but without a sound, without moving. It felt as if the debilitating sorrow she had been carrying ever since the day Lizzie had killed Mika and she’d been forced to shoot Lizzie in order to protect Judith and Ty and herself against the girl’s dangerous delusions were draining through her eyes with this steady, slow stream of hot tears.

Gradually, the pressure on her soul lessened.

Without a word, Daryl just kept holding her, one arm around her shoulders, one hand against the back of her head, until she drew a shuddering breath, sucking in air as if he’d just pulled her from an ocean. Resting in his embrace, emotionally exhausted even more than she’d been physically exhausted after the battle, she raised one hand to wipe her sticky face.

“Lizzie was … sick. She was sick even before the Turn, and with all that happened, and Woodbury and the prison falling, there was no way anymore of helping her. She was a sick little girl that believed walkers are people, in a world that isn’t suitable for sick little girls, and she …”

His voice, a steady anchor, low, dark, tender.

“Ya don’t have to -”

But she did. Suddenly, she did have to.

“Lizzie killed Mika.”

She felt him stiffening against her in shock, even as her mind conjured up that horrible image again of Lizzie, her hand and knife dripping with her sister’s blood, smiling at her and Ty, confident that Mika would return and still be herself, but safe from the walkers roaming the Earth.

For a minute, neither of them moved or spoke, and she imagined the disgust on Daryl’s face. Then, audibly shaken but still confident in what he was saying, Daryl’s gruff voice again.

“Ya had to do it. You had Judith to think of. Tyreese couldn’ta done it - he was strugglin’ to put down walkers.”

Hardly able to believe her own ears, she felt his head moving, and then he was resting it against her shoulder, a gesture of absolute trust and comfort. His arm tightened around her, holding her close.

He wasn’t letting go of her, wasn’t retreating, face a mask of horror, pushing her away. He was moving in closer.

“There was nothin’ else you coulda done and still protect Judith and the two of you.”

Somehow he knew, but still no blame. No questioning of her choices. An eternity passed. He seemed to brace himself before speaking again.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, that you had to … I know what they meant to you, after -”

Was he saying that he would have done it, had he been there with her?

Daryl, unaware of the fact that she was watching him, gently placing the body of the walker, wrapped in a white sheet, into the fire roaring in front of him before stepping back and watching it burn, as if attending a funeral.

Yes, he would have done it to spare me. He would have killed Lizzie to spare me.

The fearful tension that had been gripping her snapped.

“So … you don’t think that I’m a … monster?”

Her voice was so soft that nobody but him, wrapped around her protectively, could have heard her.

Then again, she didn’t need an answer from anyone but him. He was the only one who counted, the only one for whose verdict she cared.

He didn’t answer at once, or lightly. He was fully aware of the importance of his answer, and the impact it would have on her.

“Nah. You are a mother who protected a helpless child, the only way you could. You were the only one she had.”

His hand moved on the back of her head, and she braced for him letting go of her - but instead, this hand moved from her head to her back as well, and she felt his warm breath on her skin.

“You’re the most caring, loving person I know. You only kill to protect. You could never be a monster.”

And now he did let go of her, rose from the curbstone, knees creaking, and reached down to pull her up.

“C’mere, let’s find ourselves a place to sleep. Let someone else take watch for once.”

Still holding her hand, he set out to find a house for them to live in.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Can you link some sources or articles about the Somalian pirates and nuclear pollution? I wanna keep informed but everything google gives me is part of that "somali terrorist" rhetoric.😒

   Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not support piracy by any means and I am also not justifying any of Somalian gangs that have been involved with hostage-taking, this just simply to bring some attention onto what’s going on in Somalia and the context in which Somali pirates have been created. Main focus is the toxic nuclear waste lying on the East African coast and how it got there not the pirates themselves

   The number one article about this topic I recommend is Johann Hari: You are being lied to about pirates (2009)” and here is a part of it so people can get an idea on what has been done and is still being done to the Somalian coast:

   “In 1991, the government of Somalia - in the Horn of Africa - collapsed. Its nine million people have been teetering on starvation ever since - and many of the ugliest forces in the Western world have seen this as a great opportunity to steal the country’s food supply and dump our nuclear waste in their seas.

   Yes: nuclear waste. As soon as the government was gone, mysterious European ships started appearing off the coast of Somalia, dumping vast barrels into the ocean. The coastal population began to sicken. At first they suffered strange rashes, nausea and malformed babies. Then, after the 2005 tsunami, hundreds of the dumped and leaking barrels washed up on shore. People began to suffer from radiation sickness, and more than 300 died. Ahmedou Ould-Abdallah, the UN envoy to Somalia, tells me: “Somebody is dumping nuclear material here. There is also lead, and heavy metals such as cadmium and mercury - you name it.” Much of it can be traced back to European hospitals and factories, who seem to be passing it on to the Italian mafia to “dispose” of cheaply. When I asked Ould-Abdallah what European governments were doing about it, he said with a sigh: “Nothing. There has been no clean-up, no compensation, and no prevention.”

   At the same time, other European ships have been looting Somalia’s seas of their greatest resource: seafood. We have destroyed our own fish-stocks by over-exploitation - and now we have moved on to theirs. More than $300m worth of tuna, shrimp, lobster and other sea-life is being stolen every year by vast trawlers illegally sailing into Somalia’s unprotected seas.”

   More articles about the waste: More Illegally Dumped Radioactive Waste Found on Somalia’s Coast (2011)
From cocaine to plutonium: mafia clan accused of trafficking nuclear waste (2007)
Tsunami exposes Somalia toxic waste (2005)
Somalia used as toxic dumping ground (2009)

A part from The 'Ndrangheta’s (criminal organization from Italy) wikipedia page:

   “ The ‘Ndrangheta, an Italian mafia-type syndicate, has been accused by pentito Francesco Fonti, a former member of ‘Ndrangheta, of sinking at least 30 ships loaded with toxic waste, much of it radioactive. In 2005, Fonti revealed the conspiracy in the news magazine L'espresso. His statements led to widespread investigations into the radioactive waste disposal rackets, involving Giorgio Comerio and his disposal company, the Odm (Oceanic Disposal Management)…

…Both Fonti and environmental group Legambiente claimed vessels were sent to Somalia and other developing countries such as Kenya and Zaire with toxic cargoes, which were either sunk with the ship or buried on land. Legambiente alleges that local rebel groups were given weapons in exchange for receiving the waste ships. Fonti claims that Italian TV journalist Ilaria Alpi and her cameraman Miran Hrovatin were murdered in 1994 in Somalia because they had seen toxic waste arrive in Bosaso, Somalia. According to Fonti, Christian Democrat politicians, including former prime minister Ciriaco De Mita, had been involved in illegal disposal operations, using the secret service SISMI to cover up their connection. De Mita denied the allegations. Fonti also claimed that Socialist politicians Gianni De Michelis and Bettino Craxi intervened to ensure that Italian peacekeeping troops in Somalia turned a blind eye to the transports.”

But onto the pirates - “This is the context in which the “pirates” have emerged. Somalian fishermen took speedboats to try to dissuade the dumpers and trawlers, or at least levy a “tax” on them. They call themselves the Volunteer Coastguard of Somalia – and ordinary Somalis agree. The independent Somalian news site WardheerNews found 70 per cent “strongly supported the piracy as a form of national defence”.
No, this doesn’t make hostage-taking justifiable, and yes, some are clearly just gangsters – especially those who have held up World Food Programme supplies.“  
Here is a quote from “Piracy off the coast of Somalia” wikipedia page
(which does a pretty good job at explaining the situation):
“ In the absence of an effective national coast guard following the outbreak of the civil war and the subsequent disintegration of the Armed Forces, local fishermen formed organized groups in order to protect their waters. This is reflected in the names adopted by some of the pirate networks, such as the National Volunteer Coast Guard, which are testimony to the pirates’ initial motivations. However, as piracy became substantially more lucrative, other reports have speculated that financial gain became the primary motive for the pirates.“

More articles about the pirates:  How Somalia’s Fishermen Became Pirates (2009)
The Truth about Somali Pirates (2015)
Pirates of Somalia: Curse of the Mafia Nuclear Waste Dumps and Thanks for All the Fish (2009) - this article is full of other links about the subject
Somali pirates began as volunteer coast guard (2009)

Somali waters have been polluted for almost 30 years and no one is batting an eye on what’s going on there cause of the Somali Civil War and government collapse. But the people of Somalia don’t deserve their land being used as a landfill by the rest of the world. 

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45: Mόnimos

This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw a few weeks ago! It revolved around this question: “What if Annabeth went missing instead of Percy?”

“Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent.”












Annabeth had been gone for exactly one week, four days, two hours, thirty-six minutes and fifty-one— fifty-two… fifty-three…fifty-four…fifty-five


Percy had not seen her face in all that time—he hadn’t touched her, kissed her, heard her voice… It had only been eleven days, but he already felt the anxiety eating up every inch of his being. Gods, they’ve both been missing before—Annabeth when she was forced to hold up the sky, and the two weeks he’d spent in Ogygia—but for some reason, it wasn’t the same.

Now that he cleared up his feelings for her… right when he was finally ready to publicly showcase how much he cared…

She disappeared.

He felt like a hellhound bit off his sword arm.

He’d already been worried sick when she was kidnapped two years ago, feeling like he could vomit every single minute he realized she was gone, but now it felt like time was ticking away the pieces of his heart, forcing the veins, the nerves and the arteries to burst and crack him open at the seams.

He would find her, he had to find Annabeth—he’d made her so many promises, so many oaths, hopes and dreams, and he couldn’t give up on her now.

Not when she needed him most.

Not when she was somewhere in this world, alive and breathing.

Not when they were onto something permanent.

Percy couldn’t give up.

But his bones were tired, his eyes were strained and he couldn’t even control a droplet of water in his state. He couldn’t fall asleep for more than a couple of hours at a time since the nightmares had gotten a million times worse, so he could never shake off the exhaustion. And he was always looking for her, always on the lookout for his girlfriend with the princess curls and the bright grey eyes.

He didn’t have time to rest.

“Where are you, Annabeth?” he whispered imploringly into his hands, perched on the edge of her bed in the Athena cabin. He began coming here a week before just to smell her clothes, her pillow—to find clues of why, where, and when—to feel her teddy bear, scan her notes and open her laptop.

He’d already become an honorary Athenian in his pursuit.

He came and went as he pleased, and the other campers stopped minding. Percy needed any part of her he could grasp—they didn’t need any complex Athenian wisdom to know that—so they let him sleep in her bed when he wanted to.

Which wasn’t very often.

He rarely slept.

No one bothered him when he sat alone in the Athena cabin, moping when he could’ve been teaching others how to sword fight. Not even Chiron attempted to bring him out of his reverie. No one dared to ask why his shoulders shook when he’d sit by the cabin porch with his head down, and no one could comfort him when he wept on his table in the mess hall.

No one questioned why he was always off on quests by himself in the morning, but why he’d come home late at night, clothes shredded and burned—eyes wild they seemed insane. No one asked why he focused relentlessly on leaving the camp to find lost things, rescue demigods, and why he tried to hard to smile.

No one questioned why he’d come home with scratches and gashes, why his invincibility didn’t kick in as well as it used to.

He couldn’t tell them it was because he’d been attacked in his weak spot—he’d been punched and stabbed in the one part that mattered: His heart, his heart that held Annabeth.

But he couldn’t stop—he would never stop, not even when he was as vulnerable as a new born baby, not even when he could no longer raise his sword.

He would always be looking for her.


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