#as if their morals are superior to mine because they are fine with throwing themselves at trains over nothing and im kot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rotationalsymmetry · 3 years ago

Text

I am just filled with rage whenever I see the word “upcycling”.

Especially in context of ”hey, you can put considerable effort into this craft project, for something cutesy that you didn’t need and probably wouldn’t have gone out and bought” — first, that is reusing, or just ”making something”, second…

...recycling isn’t primarily about reducing waste. It’s primarily about not needing to make the next aluminum can/glass bottle/piece of paper/etc from raw materials. If you’re not preventing a new thing from being made from raw materials, what you are doing is strictly less valuable than regular recycling.

(I know a lot of fuss is made about filling up landfills, but that’s not actually the main problem. Resource extraction is.)

“Upcycling” fundamentally misunderstands the point of recycling, and implies that making more stuff or more complex stuff is always better than not doing that, while living sustainably often involves living happily with less, or with things that have been altered less from their original state, or with things that are more durable and so don’t have to be made as often.

Finally, it enrages me because it plays into fairly common and understandable (but ultimately harmful) human desires to turn doing the right thing into a thing where you can get social status points. When you “upcycle” something, you get a product that you can show off. When you put something in the recycling bin, so that it can be used to make a new thing rather than having the new thing be made from raw materials (ie, more mining or logging), or when you just figure out how to buy stuff with less packaging, or when the business takes back the milk bottles or cardboard box, etc, you don’t have a product to show off to your friends and Instagram followers. You don’t get bragging rights.

Upcycling is not better. Most things you can do for the planet don’t look flashy and don’t lend themselves to showing off/signaling your treehugger status. Much of the stuff that does is extremely classist/ableist/healthist and/or mostly symbolic. (upcycling tends to be mostly symbolic. and obnoxiously good for making advertiser-friendly articles, and if the advertisers like it you can reasonably assume you’re doing something wrong.)

Being effective at anything, including sustainable personal choices (which is really not where it’s at in terms of sustainability, but whatever) requires being willing to let go of getting credit for what you’re doing. Because most things in life that are worth doing you don’t get credit for, or will only get credit for if you go and poke someone and ask them to give you credit. I don’t want to see one more explective post about upcycling. If your area has recycling, recycle; if it doesn’t, look for something else worth doing or let it go; focus on big decisions you can make once and be done with it rather than little decisions you have to constantly put effort and creativity into. (And, I mean, if you like doing salvaged-garbage craft projects, have fun with that, creativity is awesome, just...it’s not actually morally superior/better for the planet than plain old reduce-reuse-recycle.) (And if you see this sort of thing and don’t want to do those craft projects? You’re fine. It’s not a big deal. Recycling is great for the environment, and for things that aren’t recyclable, throwing things out is not actually that big a deal in the big picture.)

Things that matter more than your garbage: how much energy goes into keeping the place you live hot/cool, plane trips, especially resource intensive types of food like beef, oil pipelines, what the military is doing, what gas mileage your car gets and how much you drive it if you have one (and whether you have one), cryptocurrency apparently, whether people who want birth control/abortions/a childfree life have access to them/are able to do that in peace, urban planning (mass transit, walkable neighborhoods, safe and usable bike routes), whether your workplace or school if your have one of those is prioritizing sustainability (more people involved = less personal control but also much greater impact per decision), divestment from especially unsustainable industries (your own investments/retirement fund if you have such a thing, perhaps your school’s or parents’ or religious institution’s if you don’t, but also if you don’t you’re basically already divested, you know?), how much your government does or doesn’t prioritize sustainability, maybe who you buy stuff from (keeping in mind that for instance slow fashion is great but not intrinsically better than buying clothes from thrift stores — the stuff that advertises itself as “green” tend to be expensive, cheap stuff that’s also sustainable advertises itself as cheap.)

Stay skeptical.

#Commenting on without reblogging #Because yeah putting this on someone else’s post would be a major jerk move

3 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Untouchable 4- Sunlight [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your feedback my loves, please keep it coming! <3

The previous chapters are on my masterlist<3

Summary: It wasn’t like you needed a naïve romantic who had no idea how your world worked.

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2748

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, explicit language, 1940s.

It took Shirley almost a week to feel better and talk with you, and throughout that week, you felt more alone than ever. Some part of you knew it wasn’t just because of Shirley, it was also because of-

It made no sense, really. You and Bucky hardly knew each other, his existence or lack of it wasn’t supposed to hold any importance in your life, especially when he had made no attempt of contacting you for almost a week.

Very well then. It wasn’t like you needed a naïve romantic who had no idea how your world worked.

Besides, you were way too busy to worry over some stupid crush.

In all honesty, it was good that it had stopped before you could get used to his presence anyway. He was a soldier after all, and he would be shipped out soon, and what would you have to do then, other than being left behind, spending your days in worry, waiting for him to come back-

Nonsense.

Even if he did come back, there would be no future for you. Your line of work wouldn’t allow it, and sooner or later he would get mean, all of them did.

You had seen it a thousand times. Possessiveness, control, it laid inside every human being, and Bucky was no exception to-

Sergeant Barnes. Sergeant Barnes was no exception to that.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yes,” your head shot up and you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “I am. What is it?”

Shirley smiled at you, “I met someone.”

“Oh God.”

“No no no, this time it’s different!” she insisted, making you tilt your head,

“If you say so.”

“But you should meet him, Y/N! He’s such a gentleman!”

“That’s a nice change,” you winked at her, “Not too much of a gentleman, I hope.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m just saying!” you held up your hands, gesturing surrender and she walked around in your room before approaching your table, her fingertips grazing over the jewelry lying on it.

“I will never understand why you don’t wear any of this.”

“I don’t like them.”

“None of them?” Shirley held up a ruby necklace, “This is gorgeous though!”

“You can keep it if you’d like.”

“It’s yours.”

“Not really. My clients send them to me so, not mine.”

“They send them to you so that you can wear them.”

“I’m not interested in their jewelry.” you managed to say and she pursed her lips,

“So can I keep it?”

“Sure, take it. It’s yours.”

“Thank you!” she rushed to hug you, then grinned, “I’d better go, I have an appointment approaching.”

“Yeah, good luck.” you said and grabbed your coat, put it on, then walked out of the house. Your next client still had some time before he came, so you figured you could go outside, it was a sunny day after all and since you were a child, you really didn’t like staying inside.

Until you actually had to stay outside. Then, that feeling had changed.

Not even Brooklyn really, where you actually wanted to be was somewhere far away. Somewhere green, away from this crowd and chatter and every bad memory, but you’d take what you could get.

You turned a corner to make your way by the river, but before you could get away, a man had shouted your name,

“Hey, it’s Y/N isn’t it sweetheart?”

You pretended not to hear him and kept walking but he caught up with you, grabbing your arm.

“How much for a night with you?”

You eyed him up and down, and yanked your arm back, “You wouldn’t be able to afford it even if you worked day and night.”

“Oh come on don’t be like that-“ he grinned at you, making you feel sick, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I don’t sleep with low life scum like you, you’re no one.” You stated and pushed him back, then attempted to walk away from him, ignoring the way he called you a whore, but then a surprised shout from him reached your ears and you turned around to see Bucky’s friend- Steve, you remembered him- punching him square in the face, making you cover your mouth.

The man pushed him back, throwing a punch at him and send him to the ground but he stood up, as if the mere anger was enough to make him move. You shook off the shock and reached inside your coat, then took out your pocket knife and pressed the blade right between his legs.

“Make a move,” you said through your teeth, “Any move, and I take your stones.”

He held his breath, freezing on his spot,

“Understood?” you asked and he nodded, then as soon as you pulled the knife back, he hurried away from you. You heaved a sigh, wiping the sweat off your brow and approached Steve.

“Hello,” you tried to smile, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“He insulted you.” He wiped the blood off his nose and you shrugged slightly.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to that.”

Steve pulled his brows together,

“You shouldn’t be,” he said slowly and you pursed your lips, then took out your hankie to give it to him, so that he could press it under his nose.

“You keep it,” you said, “Consider it my thank you for defending my honor, Mr. Rogers. Not many people do that nowadays.”

“People are disrespectful then.”

“That tends to happen a lot if they see themselves morally superior to you.” You stated, “But in any case, you have my gratitude. It’s good to see there are some nice men in Brooklyn after all.”

He smiled at you abashedly, triggering your own smile, and he stole a look at you.

“Won’t you ask me then?”

“Won’t I ask you what?”

“Bucky.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly, “Should I?”

“You tell me, ma’am.”

“It’s Y/N.” you corrected him, “Very well then. How is Sergeant Barnes?”

“He-“ Steve thought for a moment, “He looks tortured.”

“A broken arm hurts.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind.

“What?” you asked him and he shook his head,

“It’s nothing.”

“Steve,” you said “It’s not very kind of you to keep a girl guessing.”

“It’s just…” he waved a hand in the air as he tried to find the words, “Girls usually have a different reaction to Bucky.”

“He’s had many lovers then?” You had no idea why a bitter taste had appeared in your throat all of a sudden but you managed to keep your expression stable and playful. Steve chuckled.

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that question.”

“I’d be the last person to judge, trust me.” You shrugged, “Would be quite hypocrite, no?”

Steve looked like he had no idea how to respond to that, but you crossed your arms, a thought hitting you.

“Is he in pain?” you cleared your throat, “His- his arm, I mean.”

He was smart enough to understand what you had meant, “Looks like it,” he said and you bit inside your cheek,

“Steve, can you be in the alley where I last saw you tonight? Around 9?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you.” You said, before you started walking away from him, “Have a lovely day.”

***

“Okay, what is happening?” Nancy leaned on the kitchen doorframe, “You never cook.”

“I had some free time.”

“Is that bone broth?”

“Yeah.” You twirled the wooden spoon in the pot, “My mom used to make it.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Dead,” you said, adding some salt and leaned in to check the stove, and she raised her brows,

“How was your time with Mr…?”

“Mitchell.”

“Is he the one with the scar?”

“Mm hm.” You mumbled, and she came closer to you,

“Any new gifts? I heard you gave Shirley a necklace.”

You smiled slightly, shooting her a look, “You know you can always get what you want from my room, don’t you?”

“How about those emerald earrings Mr Ward sent you?”

“Yeah, take them.” You said, “I didn’t take them out of the box, must be in my drawer.”

Nancy tilted her head, “Why don’t you ever wear any of their gifts?”

“I choose my own jewelry,”

“But why don’t you wear their gifts, ever?”

You turned the heat down and took the pot off the stove, then started looking for a proper cup,

“Because they don’t get to have me outside,” you muttered, “Just there. Just then. Nothing more.” You poured the broth into the cup, and covered it.

“Where are you taking that?”

“Tell Linda I’ll be back soon,” you ignored her question, grabbed your coat and left the house. The steam of the broth and the scent made your mouth water but you made your way to the alley where Steve was already waiting for you.

“Y/N,”

“Good evening.” You greeted him, and handed him the cup, “There.”

He frowned slightly, “What-?”

“It’s…” you licked your lips nervously, “It’s good for broken bones. My mom used to make it. Tell him to drink it while it’s hot.”

Steve gawked at you, “You made him soup?”

“It’s broth.”

“Fine, you made him broth?”

You had no idea why you felt almost insecure, but the feeling was way too foreign to you that it caught you off guard before you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “He has a broken arm, you see. It’s good for bones, my mom used to say.”

Steve frowned slightly, “….Okay.”

“Thank you.” You shot him a small smile and made your way back to the brothel before he could question you any further, and walked past Thomas who was waiting by the door.

“Where were you?”

“I had something to do.” You said curtly, and walked upstairs to your room, then flung yourself onto the bed.

You had absolutely no idea what you were doing. Half of you wanted to tell Shirley about him, but you knew she would never let that go, being the hopeless romantic that she was. Not to mention, it would make everything more real, and there was actually nothing happening, it was just….a friendly broth. For someone who happened to have a broken arm- a soldier.

It was your way of being a good citizen, to thank him for his service or whatever it was Shirley would say.

Okay, you really needed to pull yourself together.

You grabbed your book from your drawer, found the dog ear page and started reading but after an hour, you realized you couldn’t even focus on the book anymore so even if you knew it was a bad idea, you put the book on your bed and grabbed a blanket off the foot of the bed. You wrapped it around your body, then walked to the window to take a look at the dimly lit street.

Damn it, your heart wasn’t supposed to go nuts.

He waved at you with his healthy arm, motioning you to come outside and you nibbled on your lip, then turned around and left your room. You rushed downstairs, but were stopped by Thomas.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked and he tilted his head to the right.

“I live here, so is Shirley, you know that.” he said, “That look of excitement seems familiar.”

“Thomas.” You said, warningly, “You know Shirley and I are different.”

He shot you a fond look, smiling slightly, “Don’t let Linda find out.” He whispered, then opened the door for you, “Go. I’ll keep it open, so that no one can hear you knock.”

“Thank you.” You said, then walked out of the house. You descended the stairs, then made your way to the deserted alley you had last talked, aware of him following you.

As soon as you reached there, you turned around.

“Sarge.” You said, demanding yourself to keep your voice calm, but it somehow felt difficult with the way your stomach was making flips, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say thank you,” he swallowed thickly, his blue eyes almost gleaming in dimly lit alley, “And to apologize.”

You wrapped the blanked tighter around you, staying silent and he licked his lips,

“That is if you will not threaten me with a knife?”

You tried to stop your smile, “Steve told you,” your voice was soft and he chuckled,

“Yeah. What did he look like?”

“Steve?”

“The man who insulted you.”

You raised your brows, “I don’t need a bodyguard Sarge, thank you.”

“I’ll just learn from Steve.”

“You’ll do no such thing Bucky,” you told him and he looked almost caught off guard, hearing his name from your lips.

“Why did you send me soup?” he asked curiously, and you shrugged slightly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s broth,” you corrected him, “Um- it’s for your arm.”

“My arm.”

“I figured it hurt,” you nodded to yourself, “It helps bones heal faster, my mom used to say. And-” you motioned at him, “You know, it is the least I could do. Since you broke it on the front during battle. It’s me being a good citizen.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing more,” you managed to lie, but he didn’t seem to buy it, judging by the mischievous look on his face.

A silence fell upon you, and you cleared your throat,

“I should go-“

“Wait,” he stopped you, “I’m sorry. I never meant to offend you, I just…”

“I see more than people assume, Sarge,” you said, “People just feel threatened if they realize it. Especially in my line of work, so I let them think what they wish to think. Don’t fall for that.”

“So you don’t love him?” he asked and you couldn’t help but snort at that.

“No diamonds can hide his true nature,” you stated, “No worries, Sergeant. I don’t have to be on the battlefield to know what kind of a man he is.”

Bucky nodded slowly, as if deep in thought and scoffed,

“You’re way too smart for a guy like him.”

That made your head shoot up and you gawked at him, not sure if you had heard him right. No one had ever commented on your intelligence before, it was always about how you looked, since you were a child. Whether you were beautiful or not, whether that dress looked good on you, whether those earrings brought out your eyes-

Never this. Never smart.

And the weird part was that, you knew how to respond to every compliment out there except for this one. It was as if someone had pushed you into some foreign land right now, and you had no idea how to behave or how to speak.

“Thank you,” you managed to say and Bucky smiled at you sweetly, making your heart beat even faster.

“Um- Steve tells me you’ve had many lovers.” You managed to turn the conversation to something you felt more comfortable with, and flirting was your specialty after all.

“Steve should keep his mouth shut.” Bucky said with an exasperated sigh, “And he’s exaggerating.”

“Oh is he?”

“Very.”

“So there is nobody that would be heartbroken if they saw you in an alley with me, like this?”

“Like what?”

You raised your brows, then smiled at him playfully, shrugging your shoulders, “You tell me, Sarge. You’re the one who tends to be present around me.”

“Yet, you don’t complain about it.”

You scrunched up your nose, trying to control your smile, “How could I? I told you, us Brooklyn girls need to see a handsome fella in these difficult times.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat and you licked your lips.

“I should go,” you said, “Good night Sarge.”

You turned around and took a couple of steps but before you could leave the alley, you heard his voice.

“There’s nobody,” he called out, making you glad he couldn’t see your smile,

“I didn’t ask,” you said nonchalantly, making him chuckle.

“Yes you did.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip, then walked out of the alley to make your way to the house. You pushed the door, relieved to see it was still open and stepped inside to see Thomas grinning at you.

“Not one word.” You pointed at him, and climbed the stairs to your room.

@rhabakoli @rmwest9 @finnickfoxes @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @thorohdamnson @fictionwillneverdie @lostkizzy @superwolfchild-fan @marauderskeeper @propertyofpoeandbucky @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lettersofwrittencollective @i-am-always-famished @small-round-and-angry @captstefanbrandt @flowers-in-your-hayr @writeyourmindaway @geekandbooknerd @mamaraptor @j-finco @the-omni-princess @supercarricat @anxietysucks @fortisfiliae @stopitchris @nea90sweetie @inforapound @theladybiers @aikeji @nishanki1 @neerness @littledarlinhavefaithinme @marvelgirl7 @to-the-road

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #1940s!bucky #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #captain america #1940s bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines

606 notes · View notes

switchblademouse · 4 years ago

Text

All you could do was laugh.

What other response could you have after seeing death run rampant through your world? The old lady buried one morning when the sun felt harsh and new, then her tiny grandchild ready to be buried soon before the sun set heavy and ripe that very same day. Watching as the people took over the streets howling right in the open, drowning out everything else in their grief. Then watching as those same people burnt down the walls of all the lives around them, smashed the whole world to rubble under the stampede of thousands of charging feet, when all that unanswered grief of theirs turned into righteous rage.

What more was there to do than sit back and laugh at them?

I had warned them. As had many others before me, and after me. We were silenced, all of us. Told we were being too negative for their comfort. Told we shouldn't tell them of the open dangers they faced, unless we gave them the choice to run from such uncomfortable topics beforehand. We, the ones who could see the dangers, had been screaming our warnings at these people for years. We who had already been dying had been begging this blind public for that justice they loved dearly for so very long now. Our suffering had not mattered to these people who thought of themselves as Good People. Where was all of that elitist high ground they once waved above us beggars? Above those of us who had all been denied the basics of human life; and yet we all ended up watching them crumble at our feet for so much less than we had already survived.

We could do nothing but laugh. Throw our heads back and shake from the gasping breathing that came with the horrid and hysterical laughter of those who had been pushed too far for too long. We the people who have only just realized that the others who put us there always knew that our suffering was the worst possible thing anyone could live through. Those awful Good People had let us all suffer while knowing these things; simply because they couldn't care less to act on helping others if they couldn't get something for themselves out of it. Why did such people still dare call themselves "good" to our faces?

We laugh as they fall at our feet, suffering too, in all the ways they looked away from dismissively when that suffering was in our lives once.

We laugh as they bleed out in front of us, blood pooling in a dark river that twists with whirpools of tears, and the many empty, begging promises of desperate human beings trying to avoid the consequences of their own misdeeds brought to their feet.

We laugh as they call us evil, for those moments are the only truly humorous times we still have in our lives, after all this madness.

Because they don't realize they lost that right to feel morally superior to me so very long ago.

We no longer see a human being in our own reflection these days.

We no longer want to.

For all those humans we have seen walking through our life are not what we wish to ever see ourselves become.

The cruel actions those humans who call themselves good take when they simply feel justified in destroying everything they find distasteful are not those we seek to emulate.

So, we will destroy every last human being, and the destructive despair they drag around them like the chaotic wake behind a great storm.

I am perfectly fine being the grinning villain these days.

For if such beings as humans call me evil, then I must be doing so very well as a person.

Isn't that funny?

Just absolutely hilarious?

I see humans, but no humanity.

All you can do is laugh.

[Just a Random Writer in the Electronic Void. Don't mind me. I just got bored. Sorry about the rough copy /Edit: Went back and edited for spelling and grammar because it bugged me, no longer a rough copy/. Not sorry about the chills. Villains are such an interesting topic. Any of us could be one to somebody else. Enjoy this one, or don't. Not exactly my best work after all. Guess I should just laugh it off, huh?]

+++++

End Copypasta

+++++

This right here is copypasta from my YouTube commentary. The video was a wonderful VillainCore playlist, titled "i see humans but no humanity: a villain playlist", posted by username "cupid". (Quote marks are mine. I sincerely apologize for not linking it here. I like giving credit to the creators, but I have no clue how to link that through my phone app here. Sorry!)

I designed this for the authors notes to be at the end, to increase the impact of the writing. In commentary style story posts, putting the authors note at the top deters people from reading by breaking that story immersion. If you put those authors notes at the end of the comment-story you are writing? You get more readership, because the hook for your story can do it's job properly. That's an important tip I recommend you keep in mind if you post stories in places like commentary or reply sections. Just make sure your hook strikes well!

Anyway? Because this was designed for that hook to hit first? I do apologize for having to drop my copypasta without context. It is what it is.

Before I'm done? I would like to make another more personal apology. Someone accused me of "humble-bragging" after the original note to this. I had no idea what that meant. I looked it up. Honestly? I was appalled that they thought that, and confused. When I brag I'm not subtle about it! I also wasn't sure why they would think anyone would over just what I wrote there. I asked some friends. Turns out? My writing is better than I thought it was. I know I'm good, but I didn't think a quick short story like this, done in an hour could be well written for me. I was corrected on something. My standards for excellence were significantly higher for myself than they were for my readers. So, what I legitimately thought wasn't good enough, everyone else thought was me humble-bragging.

I felt the need to apologize for this. I didn't want to alter my original post, for personal reasons. But I want to apologize now, before anyone says I'm doing that. I wasn't, but I'm still struggling to wrap my head around the fact that I'm not just a good writer. I'm a writer who is apparently, on occasion, so good at what they do that they make people think I must be full of crap if I say I don't believe I did well.

Do you know how hard that is to accept?! I'm freaking out. My image of myself does NOT match with that! Even if I was confident about being a good writer, this is still a shock. I'm working on it. It's just taking me a while.

So, on top of my writing tip today?

Take this to heart.

Just because you think you aren't good enough yet, doesn't mean you aren't great already.

Your lackluster effort, just might be a high quality piece in others eyes.

Look at your stuff through some of your biggest supporters eyes at some point.

It could be the best thing you will ever do for your self-confidence.

I hope you all have a weird and wonderful day from here.

~ Tapestry

#original prose #writerslife #story blurb #writing practice #villaincore #chills #writing tips #life advice #life tips #writing techniques #writers on tumblr

3 notes · View notes