#plastic recycling is a lie

[rawjeev]

I don't even want to talk to anyone about plastics and the lies about their recycling. The evidence of constantly manufactured and recycled lies are all around us - on the roads, in the open fields, in the forests, in the rivers, in the seas, and now even in our blood streams.

I cringe inside, when friends, good people, knowledgeable people argue about the inevitability of using plastics or argue that plastics are recycled or can be recycled and that it's just a matter of doing better, or just a matter of some technological breakthrough, etc.,

I find myself at loss of words for all that's naked and glaringly visible everywhere.

[scottguy]

Good for California.

So... all those little numbers you see printed on the bottom with the recycle arrows logo... they do NOT mean those plastics are financially feasible or even possible to recycle at any cost. They just stamped them to make consumers feel better. They simply identify different plastic types, only two types get recycled. (downcycled)

One method that would reduce a huge source of single use plastics, that is surprising we haven't seen much of yet, is bulk sales of liquid commodities like laundry detergent, shampoo, dish soap, hand sanitizer, etc. Put in barrels and just sell it by weight.

If we can sell foods like rice, grains, pasta, pancake mix, candies, etc, which are all perishable in bulk, then soaps and liquids should be a breeze in comparison. Just bring your own container.

One guess why we don't see this is that virgin plastic containers cost so little, cents or less. Saving the cost of the plastic is a negligible savings. (Still, even pennies add up to the corporate bottom line.) The other hurdle is logistics. Liquid products are heavy. But they use those hand fork lifts for giant loads in stores all the time. They could place a barrel on wheels or design one specifically for barrels of liquid. A simple hand pump on the top of a barrel would work.

Again, it won't bring the product price down but environmentally conscious people would want to reuse those GIANT laundry detergent bottles and other plastic bottles to refill all the liquid products that get thrown away every few weeks I throw yet another one away.

States could also tax products in single-use plastic to artificially increase the price and thus discourage consumption of those.

[4r0m4nt1s]

It might make me a tinfoil hat freak but am so sceptical when a product is advertized as eco-friendly after learning about "biogredable" plastic and how "recompensating carbon food print" actually works etc etc if a product is advertized as eco friendly I don't trust it even as far as I can throw it

[medicinemane]

Ok, as someone who is pro... you know, not polluting shit so much (like people argue about climate change and here's the thing, I don't fucking care, I still want to take the steps that reduce pollution cause I think it sucks) I have to say that I find various arguments from people about what we need to do differently... not fully thought out

Saw this thing that was about beef, and they're like "well even if beef is raised locally, it needs to use trucks to be transported which is very high pollution, where as fruit shipped in from around the world is on cargo ships and causes a lot less pollution per gram"

And it's just like... brother... lets say you're 100% right... once those ships drop the stuff off at the port... how do you think they're getting to my supermarket?

Even if we're blessed and they take a train, they're still probably loaded on to a truck to go about as far as it would have been from the farm

Then they also said how "even with grassfed stuff there's a lot of deforestation that happens to make room for cattle", and like not wrong (though fuck if we don't do that for crops too), but I live on the plains so I don't think that's happening here

Give me an honest conversation. Show me what the reality of the ground beef I get from the butcher who gets it from a local farm is, and what the environmental impact of that farm is likely to be... then I can actually consider things and really weigh them, but you gave me no actual usable info and it feels like you walked into this with bias and worked backwards

I want to see things improve, but I need actual info to work with before I can even begin to make personal choices

[dickarchivist]

Thirsty clones

The clones I can think of right at this second as types of water

Hunter: Fiji bottled water. Prettiest label, good clean taste, belongs on Pabu

Wrecker: dragon fruit vitamin water. Water with a kick, taste great, looks great, fun at parties as well as the office

Echo: Boxed Water. Been through some shit, trapped in a box, but when released, just an absolute delight. Pure and crisp, no plastic taste. Recycled container. Doing its best.

Wolffe: That charcoal infused black water that was a fancy thing a few years ago. Intimidating, dont wanna drink it. Super good when you finally say "fuck it I need to know", and then you drink it and it changes you.

Rex: Aquafina bottled water with the wide mouth cap. Tried and true, ol' reliable. You want water on a roadtrip in the summer, you want hydration, you want Aquafina.

Fives: that purple blue and white Dixie cup with the swoosh pattern full of water cooler water. We all know why. The cup alone sparks joy, we will use the same cup a million times just because we don't want to use another. Because this cup is *our* cup. It doesn't matter the drink inside. It's the vessel.

Hardcase: Tap water. I'm giving Hardcase Tap Water because I don't know what's going on in there, and I typically have to filter his stuff to get what I want, but in certain contexts he's safe to drink.

Tup: hose water. You know there's something wrong in here, but you can't deny that cold hose water is God tier on a childhood summer day.

Tech: reverse osmosis uv light sterilized water that is then run through yet another filter. It has the most science in it.

Crosshair: rain water from a gutter. It was pure at one point, but it's long and hard journey has made it a bad sippy. With proper filtration and treatment, it will be beautiful once again, and it will be happier for it.

Omega: Dasani. Also reliable, the littlest bottle and the big bottle look the same except stretched out. A solid choice for adding flavor packets, can teach that water so much.

Fox: Bottom shelf vodka ran through a Britta pitcher to make it mid to top shelf vodka. It's been a long day of bullshit. Sometimes, the water is a lie.

[ibrowjo]

Kind of Like a Mother

a/n: I've been wanting to upload my writing for a while now, and I just finished editing this one (maybe, it's late so who knows how it looks rn), so I thought 'why not?' I've been writing a lot of self-insert fics that have to do with things I've been through myself or with family members, and that's what this one turned into by accident... oops. so be free little bird lol.

Warnings: fighting, angst, language, brief mentions of death and violence, talk of menstruation and infertility

Word count: 3829

“I’m home!” I called, returning from my late night shopping trip. No answer came as I carefully stepped down the metal stairs of the bunker, trying not to drop the bags of groceries layered up my arms. Nobody home to help me. Nobody home to see the bag full of candy bars and cream-filled cakes I intended to keep stashed in my room. Perfect.

The truth of the matter was that I didn’t eat a lot of sweets, but when Castiel discovered Jack eating breakfast cereal in the dark in the middle of the night to hide from Sam and his healthy habits, I took it upon myself to empty one of my dresser drawers and keep it stocked with treats instead. Cas knew about this, but we both agreed Dean couldn’t. Not that he’d try and stop Jack like Sam would, but the angel and I both knew the stash would disappear without anyone having seen Dean try. Besides, I never used the room anyway, so it was the perfect hideout.

Once my heavy boot met the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, I hurried down the few steps into the kitchen, prickling sensations shooting up and down my right arm from the weight that the woven, recycled plastic straps were carrying. I had gotten good at packing groceries into my reusable bags, but feeding a house full of hungry men meant seven heaping bags at the end of every weekly shopping trip. And I’ll be damned if I had to make more than one trip.

I heaved my progressively numbing arms up over the table and plopped the bags down, freeing myself from the tangle of bags. “Atta girl,” I whispered to myself, shaking my arms down by my sides to get the blood flowing again. Once the warmth worked its way back into my fingertips, I jumped right in, going first for the two bags stuffed with cold items. Footsteps sounded behind me as I was busy buried in the fridge arranging the fresh food around Sam’s various flavored protein shakes. I turned quickly just in time to see the Green Giant approaching the bags, reaching out to grab one and help.

“Hey,” Sam started. “You’re back. I wanted to talk to you ab-”

“STOP,” I roared, my hands reaching out in front of me as if the action alone could repel the 6’4” giant.

He raised his hands up in front of him in surrender, a look of concern spreading across his face.

“Woah, sorry,” he said as I lowered my hands. “What’s going on?”

I thought up the best lie I could as I rushed to the table and started discreetly looking through the bags, searching for the sugary gold mine.

“Girl stuff! I have…stuff…in one of these bags. Sorry,” I lied sheepishly.

“Okay…” he responded in confusion. My lie was stupid. Sure they were guys, but I’d never been one to shy away from asking them to pick up some tampons when they were out. They didn’t even need to ask what size to get anymore. When it was Dean’s turn, he’d not only show up with the tampons, but some condoms and a bunch of my favorite fruit as well.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, finding the correct bag and pulling it off the table, hugging it to my chest. “I’m just going to put this in my room and I’ll be back.” I went to walk away, but Sam called out gently.

“Hey, are you okay?” I turned to face him again, smiling at him sheepishly.

“Of course I am,” I replied curtly.

“You’re acting a little…weird.” I stared back at him in silence trying to think of something to say to get him off my back, but before I could, he walked closer to me and lowered his voice to continue. “Are you hiding…like a…test or something? Because if you are, I promise-”

“No!” My eyes widened as it hit me what Sam was insinuating. “No. Not at all, Sammy, no.”

Sam’s question threw me off, and I spaced out. He had no way of knowing. Not unless Dean or Cas told him, which I knew would never happen. My best friend stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring me down waiting for an explanation, but my mind instantly flew back.

I thought of the searing pain in my abdomen for the third night in a row, of myself telling Dean it was probably residual pain from an injury on our last hunt, of him declaring it bullshit and praying to Cas to come help me. The diagnosis echoed so loudly with the angel confirming my fears. It wasn’t an injury.

“Hey,” Sam interrupted, pulling me from my painful thoughts with a wave of his hand in front of my face. “Are you with me?” Concern melted from his face and morphed into some form of frustration, his jaw clenched as he waited.

Things had been tense between all of us, what with Jack’s soul being restored, Dean’s subsequent anger, and Chuck’s looming wrath. Not even the good-natured Sam was exempt from losing his cool, meaning this conversation could turn bad rather quickly unless I turned it around.

“It’s girl stuff… for Dean and I. Just figured I’d save you the mental images.” I laughed nervously.

His response was immediate. “Oh, God. Thanks…for that,” he said as he looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. So is there anything else in these bags I should be worried about?”

“Nope,” I promised. “Knock yourself out.” I twirled on my heel and took off down the hall, still hugging the junk-filled bag to my chest.

Once the contents had been emptied into my drawer and I’d kicked my boots off, I threw myself backwards onto my unused bed, my thoughts drifting back to that night months ago.

At first, I kept telling Dean I was fine aside from the pain, which Cas was able to ease when it showed up. We weren’t planning on a kid anyway, and even in the future, it would be dangerous and just plain wrong to bring one into our world. We didn’t have to worry anymore. 

Except he saw through me like I was made of glass. No matter how hard I tried to swallow my grief down, he knew I was shattered on the inside. The doctor’s visits, disguised as date nights to Sam and Jack, were squeezed in between hunts, and the new birth control pills to help manage my ruthless cycle had their own spot in my bag next to my blades and gun. It was a new normal. One that Dean saw my daily struggle with. Even with everything he had going on, he was there for me every single time.

Now, my periods were regular and not at all a burden. No pain and no heavy bleeding.

And, as crushed as I was about it, no children.

With a cleansing sigh, I sat up and looked around my room. A thick layer of dust covered the nightstand I had emptied out immediately after I started sleeping in Dean’s room. Dragging a finger through it, I created a dark stripe, exposing the wood underneath. I inspected the dust on my fingertip for a moment before standing and retrieving an extra towel from another drawer in my dresser.

With that towel, I set to dusting the nightstand, along with the top of my dresser and the surface of my desk, lifting stacks of hunting notes and photos to file away in the attached filing drawers. Finally, I pulled the corner of the covers on the bed to straighten out where I’d rumpled them.

Satisfied and decently distracted, I returned to the kitchen to find the groceries put away, and Dean and Cas had joined Sam at the table with a couple of beers.

“There she is!” Dean grinned, holding his arm out to greet me, his gruff expression softening a bit. I walked over to him and he wrapped his arm around my waist as I placed my hand on his back. He turned and kissed the inside of my arm and said, “You are a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. Want a drink?”

“No, I’m good, thanks baby. Where’s Jack?” I asked, gently scratching at the back of Dean’s neck.

Cas cleared his throat. “I believe he is in his room.”

“Yeah,” Dean piped up. “Kid didn’t want to come out for dinner.”

Sam cut in. “To be fair, Dean, he’s having a hard time, and you aren’t exactly helping the situation.”

Here we go.

“Hey, I’ve been nice. I’ve been doing my best, but I can’t just suddenly drop everything that happened,” the older brother responded matter of factly.

“Dean-” I started, untangling myself from his grasp. My frustration grew, as did my familiarity with this conversation.

“He’s a kid,” Sam defended, cutting me off. “He didn’t have his soul. And he loved mom. He’s devastated.”

Cas spoke up as well. “Dean, you have trusted me for years, yet you still refuse to believe me when I say Jack is good. He’s heartbroken over Mary.”

“Son of a bitch, Cas, don’t say her name. You know I’m trying.” Dean’s voice raised slightly, and I dreaded what was about to come next.

Heart sinking and uneasiness rising, I backed away from the boys as they continued to argue back and forth, and I left the kitchen, pacing through the halls to Jack’s room. I reached his door and noticed the soft light coming from underneath it.

I gently knocked. “Jack? It’s me.”

No answer.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. And let you know that I still care, and I’m worried.” I paused, waiting to see if he’d open the door or say something, but nothing happened. “Just…let me know if you need anything. I know it’s been tough.” I sighed as silence filled the hallway. “Goodnight, Jack.”

I padded away from his door and towards Dean’s, tired and ready to start settling in for the night. The room I’d been sleeping in for a few months now invited me in with a smell that was so irrevocably Dean.

And right now, it annoyed me.

I’d been back and forth with Dean so many times about the poor nephilim. I was exhausted. I tried so hard to be a constant for Jack, to let him know he wasn’t a waste of space or time, but after everything with Jack’s soul and Mary’s death, things changed. His confidence in himself had been destroyed. I didn’t know how to lift him up.

I stomped over to the bed, grabbing my bottle of pills and my phone charger, then yanked a tee shirt and sweats from off the floor just as Dean walked through the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, less as a question and more as an accusation.

“Sleeping in my room tonight,” I answered, not even looking him in the eye.

“Really? Sweetheart, come on.” He grabbed my shoulders to stop me as I started leaving.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before letting the air out through my mouth.

“Dean,” I started as I looked up at him. “I don’t know how many more times I can have this ‘Jack’ conversation. I love you so, so much, and I really hope you know that-”

“I do,” he interrupted. “But-”

“Stop,” I commanded. “Just… stop. It’s my turn. I’ve tried to keep it all together because I know that everything’s been shit lately for all of us. It’s like one thing after another, and we’re all family, so we deal with it as a family. But seriously, I’m over the dramatics of it all. You’ve given Jack exactly zero chances since the day he was born, and considering he’s a toddler’s age, I’d say he’s doing pretty fucking well with the hand he’s been dealt.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dean started, his voice turning from irritation to rage. “My mother’s dead because of him, and there wasn’t even a body to burn, so fuck that. Second of all, don’t you dare tell me I’m being dramatic when you’re the one stomping out to sleep somewhere else without having a conversation with me. I walked in here and you immediately jumped into this. That’s not on me.”

“Sure. Yeah, tell me I’m the one losing patience here when you’re the one who just spent the last few minutes telling off your brother and your best friend for reminding you that someone else besides you has feelings!”

The two of us stared at each other for a moment before Dean exhaled sharply. “You know what,” he started, his voice returning to a normal volume but still sounding antagonistic. “I came in here to go to bed and sleep this shit off. So do whatever you want. I don’t fucking care.” He dragged his feet past me and to the bed, where he stripped down to his plain shirt and underwear before pulling back the covers and climbing in, turning so his back was facing me. “Get the light on your way out.” 

Once in my own room, changed and exhausted, I plugged my phone in and turned out the lights before settling into my own bed for the first time in a while. I felt a bit colder lying there alone, so I pulled the blankets up over my nose and twisted onto my side, curling myself into a ball to keep warm.

The silence was deafening, keeping me awake and tossing and turning as I struggled against the lack of Dean’s heavy breathing and light snoring. I drummed my fingers against the mattress, trying to lift the weight of the quiet room, but my attempt was futile, as the silence had lent a hand to the copious amount of thinking I’d forgotten I could do so late at night.

I thought of Dean and how gut wrenching it was to see him harden his already tough exterior after Mary’s death. After everything he’d been through in his life, the stages of grief only consisted of anger for him. At the beginning, Sam and I exchanged worried glances every time the anger would rear its ugly head, but after all this time, it refused to let up, and we all became a bit impatient with each other as the hellish world kept spinning. Yet every night, Dean and I would still wrap up in each other and let it all go for a moment, and I looked forward to that every time the sun began to set.

Thoughts of missing Dean turned to thoughts of concern for Jack. What was I supposed to do next? I’d hardly seen him the last few days. I didn’t know if he was eating or if he’d left his room or if he was even alive. 

I was at a loss, and I sighed, feeling dejected and rolling back and forth a couple more times before hearing my door slowly open. The light flicked on and I whipped my head around, sitting up slightly to see who it was. Before my very eyes, the young tortured nephilim jumped when he saw me and began to wiggle his fingers down at his sides anxiously.

“I am sorry,” Jack said lowly, his voice gravelly and heavy.

I pulled myself up to sit against the headboard. “Jack,” I said, blinking to adjust to the light. He stood in place, not wanting to move further into the room, but not making the decision to walk back out. “Why are you still up?” I asked, looking at the time on my phone. 1:13 AM.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came to get a snack. Sugar always makes me feel better.” The boy looked at my dresser out of the corner of his eye. “I thought you were with Dean. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t, Jack.” He continued to stand still but relaxed his shoulders a bit at my reassurance. “Grab a couple things and come have a seat,” I said, patting the bed next to me.

I watched patiently as the slender kid slouched, curling into himself and staring at the floor as he found the knobs on my top drawer and pulled it open. His eyes widened a bit when he saw the new selection, and he rummaged for a few seconds before pulling out a king-size chocolate bar and an individually-wrapped cream-filled chocolate cake.

“Sorry I didn’t restock the nougat. I know that’s a favorite of yours.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured, sitting down next to me and swinging his feet up onto the bed. “I like chocolate.”

I smiled at him. “Nice socks,” I said, gesturing down at the many faces of Scooby-Doo on his feet.

“Thank you,” he responded without smiling back. “They are Dean’s. Sam gave them to me when I was born.” His eyes went wide. “But he said not to tell, so forget I said anything.”

I laughed quietly, reaching up and wiping Jack’s hair away from his face.

“I’m glad you have them.” I watched the corner of Jack’s mouth twitch up a little, but I could see in his eyes how troubled he was as he watched his feet wiggle back and forth, lost in his thoughts.

He finally breathed in, as if nervous to speak, but let his thoughts out anyway. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” he started, taking another breath. “I have a mother, but I don’t get to see her. And you take care of me, so you are kind of like a mother. And, well, my mother told me I was special and good and that I would change the world, but I don’t know what she would say now with everything I have done. And,” Jack paused as he fiddled with the chocolate bar wrapper. “Do you think I’m bad like Dean does?”

Jack’s words pierced my heart. I closed my eyes and swallowed, contemplating how afraid he was and how devastated he must be thinking I felt the same as Dean. My mind flashed back to Dean’s gun pointed at a kneeling Jack and the look on the boy’s face. He thought he deserved it.

I grabbed my pillow from behind me and set it down on my lap, patting the top of it as an invitation for Jack to lay down. He hesitated for a moment, but slid forward and rested his head on the pillow. I pulled the corner of my throw blanket out from underneath him and spread it over the top of him as he clung to the unopened chocolate sweets. While one hand rested on his shoulder, my other combed his hair back.

“Jack, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” I said, encouraging his attention. “There is not a single person in all of creation who knows you better than your mother did, including me. When she said you were good, she meant it. Before you were born, she knew she wouldn’t survive, but I’ve never met anyone with so much hope in the future, and that was because she knew the future would have you. You’ve got to believe that. You’ve got to cling to that. Okay?” He nodded in response.

“Now, you know I love Dean very much, but that doesn’t mean I always look the other way when he’s being a bonehead. He’s in a lot of pain, and he may blame you, but Jack, it is not your fault.” I looked down to see Jack squeeze his eyes shut, and a tear escaped over his nose and towards the pillow. The sight brought tears to my own eyes, and my voice wavered a bit as I continued speaking to him. “You and I, we’ve both unfairly lost out on things, but I’m glad we have each other. I’m always right here if you need me.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you, kid,” I whispered back.

He kept his eyes closed, and I stroked his hair to sooth him as we both silently cried together. Soon, his breathing became heavier, and his grip on the sweets loosened. I propped the pillow up as I slid out from underneath it and gently laid it back down. He didn’t stir, so I took the chocolate bar and cake out of his grasp and moved them to the nightstand for him to see when he woke. Then, slowly and quietly, I walked to the door, looking back at Jack once more before turning out the light and leaving the door open a crack.

My mind racing, I wandered aimlessly through the bunker, passing bedroom after bedroom, jealous of the others for being able to sleep. I found myself first back in the kitchen, where some beer bottles still stood on the tabletop. I gathered them, emptying the remaining contents out, and tossed them in the trash. I grabbed a wash rag from a drawer and soaked it under warm water from the sink before wringing it out and using it to wipe down every surface in the room for good measure.

If only I could turn back the clock, maybe I could change something, and Jack wouldn’t be falling apart like this. Or maybe I’d know how to help. Or maybe, I could’ve stopped what happened to Mary to give Jack a fighting chance in this family.

I kept wandering, straightening things in a few of the rooms I entered, until finally, I dragged my way into the ‘Dean-cave.’ This room, too, was littered with beer bottles, and I noticed a couple of used plates stacked on top of each other leftover from the pie I had shared with Dean a few nights ago.

Dean.

The all-familiar feeling of fatigue washed over me as my mind reacted to the peaceful thoughts of the elder Winchester. Still slightly upset as I was, I knew the only way I’d get to sleep at a time like this was if I were next to him.

Without bothering to clean up the mess, I turned and found my way back into Dean’s room. He faced the wall and snored lightly, but the light from the hallway helped me see that his shoulders were tensed under his shirt. I sighed and tiptoed toward him, pulling back the covers and sliding into my side of the bed.

Dean’s light snoring halted, and I heard him swallow before taking a single deep breath.

“Sweetheart?” he inquired in a whisper.

“No, it’s Sam,” I joked sarcastically. “Duh it’s me.”

He rolled over and sighed, his hand finding my arm and running his lazy touch up to my shoulder. He moved his thumb back and forth and said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” I greeted in return, shifting closer to him. He wrapped me in a tight embrace and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You alright, baby?” I asked.

“Better now.”

[dailyanarchistposts]

8

What is subsistence? Subsistence means committing to a place and the people who live there. It means generally getting food from your region because that is the geographical area that you understand and are familiar with and therefore you know when and how much of each item or animal is acceptable to gather or hunt.

Subsistence means fishing with friends. It means preserving food with others in your group or village or clan or whatever. Subsistence is getting together, voluntarily, with folks that you have an affinity with, to provide yourself with food and shelter and musical instruments and friendship.

Subsistence means abundance and balance, it means wildness and harmony at once. Subsistence is not an impoverished, depleted existence.

Time spent repairing the fishing nets or pickling vegetables or building a communal smokehouse isn’t alienated time. It is meaningful and joyous. In some places likely characterized by songs and mead, in others by quiet satisfaction. It means providing for yourself where you live.

Subsistence is participatory. It involves understanding your habitat and finding a healthy place within it.

Subsistence could be the bedrock upon which an anarchic culture’s ways rest on. It is the foundation of a healthy, independent, autonomous set ofliving practices, based on the cycles of the place where you live. Sense of place. Sensual wisdom.

This doesn’t mean that primal people don’t make mistakes. But overall, they rely on directly lived experience complimented by generations old wisdom to make their decisions.

Life in nature isn’t nasty brutish and short. This is a lie of the fearful and the fear mongers, of ruling classes set on the conquest of land-based people.

Subsistence means no or very little material waste: no dumpsites, no burning piles of garbage, no necessity of a recycling industry, and no mountains of appliances, gadgets and plastic. It is based in the natural cycles of your group’s land base. It means respecting nature where you live and all of the life forms that you share your habitat with, even the ones that are threatening to you, because we are all interconnected.

Subsistence isn’t about dumpster diving, scams, food banks, stealing and welfare cheques. Subsistence is directly participating in a collectivity’s future and thus ensuring your own.

For now, a group of five or ten folks acquiring food and shelter together is a form of surviving or pioneering. Fifteen or twenty people providing food and shelter for themselves, communally rearing their children, and generally taking care of each other is perhaps the ember of a clan, but true kinship probably takes a few generations.

When fifty or more people spend their lives, within the context of a successful break from the current world of hierarchy and private property and ideology, making sure that everyone within their group is fed and sheltered and nurtured and have built an infrastructure of ways and tools to assist them, anarchy begins to take hold.

This speculative glimpse is just my notion of how an urban area might de-urbanize should the present social order get cast overboard. Today, inhabitants of rural communes and eco-villages can practice some subsistence skills, but these are generally projects of the fortunate, out of reach of the majority, and can’t be viewed as the primary tactic of a thrust toward autonomous, genuine communities embedded in nature. A rural intentional community based around principles of mutual aid, cooperation and ecology might be a qualitatively superior place to live than most others, but truly self-directed people embedded in a habitat requires secession from private property and a refusal to obey the laws of both the market and the nation-state.

Power abhors subsistence. Capitalism depends on obedient producers and consumers spending our lives shopping and at work, not friends and neighbors practicing communal self reliance within a shared habitat. But together we can say no, we can disobey, and in this negativity there will birth a positive and creative force.

[solarpunkani]

The Lost Doll - A Short Story

To say that Arrden was in trouble didn’t even begin to describe his situation right now. He was screwed, utterly screwed, in deep doo doo. Deep.

He’d lost track of his little sister’s favorite doll again, a third strike on his record for being responsible. Not only that, but he’d lost it out in the city--where he and his sister weren’t even supposed to be in the first place! There was no way he would be able to explain himself to Mom and Dad without getting himself in trouble!

So there was only one solution. He’d have to go back out there and hunt it down, before either of them noticed it was gone.

“Arry! I want my dolly back!” his sister whined, but Arrden quietly shushed her.

“If you stay quiet, I’ll go get it and bring you some sweets!” he said.

Daisy hummed, her lip poking out into a powerful pout as she crossed her arms. “...gimme good sweets. From Junebugs!”

“Junebugs?!” what was he supposed to barter to get some of Junebugs’ candied fruit?! He was already pushing it just going out again, let alone bringing something to trade! “I can’t get anything from Junebugs, how about Missy Anne’s?”

Daisy responded by tilting her head back and yelling. “Daddyyy!”

“Okay, okay, okay! I’ll get you something from Junebugs, just don’t tell Dad yet!”

Daisy harrumphed, but nodded. At that same moment, their Dad came rushing up the stairs. “What’s going on up here, is everything alright?”

“I want uppies!!” Daisy beamed, reaching up with her little arms. Their dad laughed and reached down to pick her up, holding her close to his chest with a squeeze that made her giggle. While he was distracted, Arrden hurried downstairs to grab his bag and his skateboard.

“Hey, Arrden! Where’re you going?” his father called out.

Arrden froze in his tracks. Shit. “Uh! I wanted to go hang out at the library, maybe get more books!” That wasn’t entirely a lie--he did have to go to the library to check if they’d left the doll there during their earlier visit. And he did want to check out a book too.

“Alright, but can you get me some eggs from the Ferns on your way back? We’ll need them for breakfast tomorrow, bring her a few cuttings from the garden!”

Score! If he could take a few extra flower cuttings, he might be able to trade something for some Junebugs! “Okay, Dad! I won’t be too long, promise!”

Before his dad could ask any more questions, Arrden slipped out of the front door and hurried into the garden, picking the trimmers and two glass jars from the gardening table to set to work. Calendulas, rudbeckias, zinnias, and a few stems of milkweeds all found their way into the jar, which he placed into his tote as he slung it over his shoulder. He hopped over the fence, onto his skateboard, and was cruising out towards the rest of the town in a matter of moments. 

Gliding through the town on his board, he took a moment to appreciate it all--it was home, so he was used to it, but it really was so pretty. In school they’d been studying how things were just a few decades ago--an era he remembered faintly, but had no real fond memories for. He was younger than Daisy is now when their town started being remade into what it was, solar panels on every rooftop, gardens big and small bursting out of every crevice one could fit dirt into. Stained glass adorned practically every building, murals of suns and moons and plants and animals on any blank wall that wasn’t already overgrown with vining flowers. Maybe it was because he was old enough to ride around on a skateboard by himself, but things felt… smaller, than they did before. On bad days, it could be stifling, but on good days it was cozy. Most days were good days.

It didn’t take too long to get to the market plaza. He didn’t even have to look up to know he’d arrived, the light changing to pinks and oranges and yellows as he passed under the mess of fabric tarps overhanging the entire square. There were quite a few stands out today, some offering little baubles made of recycled plastic, or carved wooden statues of deer and bears and foxes, and the instrument maker was even offering a new guitar or two. Ooh, he’d have to save up for that. If he could prove himself responsible enough to maintain a spinning wheel, his friend Azzy had a few sheep, and they were always willing to give him wool to spin into yarn. Or better--if he could keep bees, to make honey and beeswax, that made for good trades.

Being responsible enough was the one thing he probably wasn’t today, since he’d lost his sister’s doll. 

Technically, Daisy had lost the doll, but it was still Arrden’s fault because he’d taken her out of the house while Dad was away at book club earlier. Oh, they’d explored the town together, gone everywhere Arrden knew she enjoyed, to cheer her up. She’d been stuck inside for days now--battling a nasty ear infection--but now that she was feeling better, she’d been begging to be let outside. Their parents said to wait just a few more days, to make sure she’d truly beaten it. Unfortunately, Arrden was weak to Daisy’s puppy dog eyes, and had whisked her away to explore all their favorite stomping grounds, getting her back home just before their dad got home. And apparently she’d dropped the doll somewhere on their adventures, and now here he was.

He stopped by the seed stand--Daisy always loved looking at the mystifying colors of Mister Peters’ glass gem corn, or reaching into the big bags of beans and letting them run through her little fingers. They’d definitely stopped here today--after all, Mister Peters’ son Kendall was working the stand, and he and Arrden had always been buddies.

“Hey, man!” Kendall beamed, reaching over the desk to tousle Arrden’s afro. Arrden mock-whined and nudged the taller boy off of him, rolling his eyes before sending him a grin. “You back again already? Did your Ma tell you to pick up more flower seeds? We're almost out of Liatris for the season.”

“Nah, it’s Ma’s working season. She doesn’t get back home till just before sunset. Did you see my sister’s doll anywhere around here? She lost it while we were out,” Arrden asked.

Kendall tutted at him, bead-adorned dreads swishing back and forth as he shook his head. “C’mon, man, you’re never gonna get those hives if you keep losing your sister’s stuff.”

“It’s not my fault she keeps dropping it! If she cares about it so much, you’d think she’d keep track of it better!”

“Yeah, and if you cared about getting those hives and that spinning wheel, you wouldn’t keep riskin’ it by taking her out with it.”

“Like she goes anywhere without it!”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Kendall arched a brow at him. 

Arrden sighed. “I know, I know. But Daisy was so sad! I couldn’t not take her with me!” 

“Well, let’s just hope you get that doll back. Oh! Mrs. Fern wants me and Dad to plant a garden near her chicken coops next week, Dad said I can invite any friends I want. Next Saturday, nine AM, her place?”

“...won’t the chickens just eat all the seeds again, like they did last year?” 

“Oh, of course they’re going to, but Mrs. Fern’s gonna make us a big apple pie for all our hard work, and I know you want in on it.”

“You should’ve lead with the apple pie, man, I’m in! But I’ve gotta get going, text me about it later?”

“You know it! Good luck on finding that doll!”

Arrden left him with a final wave, hopping back onto his skateboard and wheeling off further into the market place.

Unfortunately, no other stands had his sister’s lost doll. He tried every other one they’d gone to--the bead and jewelry stand, the stand for the Watters’ farm selling baby chicks and a lamb, the one for the new artist that had moved to town a few months back--no such luck. 

The next best bet was the big, round, blue and yellow tent at the end of the marketplace. It was where Luna sang songs to entertain kids while their parents browsed the wares at the market in peace. It was never really Arrden’s thing growing up--he preferred poking his nose into his parents’ business, seeing what they were getting and running around making trouble for himself. But his sister loved the tent and ol’ Luna, and would beg to stop there even when it was just the two of them. So he ducked inside to check the seats.

Fortunately, Luna wasn’t performing right now. Instead, there was a younger girl, just tuning up the guitar in anticipation for the next batch of kids. She looked up with a bright smile as he stepped in. “Hello, there! Anything I can help you with?”

Arrden froze. That was not Old Lady Luna. That was Pretty Girl Sasi, the girl who sat in front of him in class. He definitely didn’t have a crush on her! Absolutely not, no matter how much his friends insisted he turned red as a tomato around her, he did not have a crush on her! She was just. Really pretty! And he didn’t know how to handle that!

“O-Oh, Sasi! I--I wasn’t expecting--I thought--Old Lady Luna--” he stammered, feeling his neck get hot.

“Luna’s my aunt, I’m helping her for the weekend in exchange for more guitar lessons.” Sasi said, standing to her feet and brushing long, silky black hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure she’d love to teach more people, if you wanted to do lessons together sometime?”

Honestly, Arrden had never had much interest in learning guitar, but now he was half-tempted to trade the flowers in his bag for that pretty new guitar at the instrument seller’s stand. “Oh! Uh--I--maybe! I’ll see if I can--ah--” his brain went numb for a second, and Sasi sent him an amused look as he briefly opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Wasn’t he here for something? Right! “Have you seen my sister’s doll? I--my sister was here earlier, and she lost her doll, and I dunno if it might’ve been here or… y’know. Y’know?”

Sasi giggled, making her way over to a basket tucked away to the side. “Well, I dunno what her doll looks like specifically, but my aunt always puts stuff kids leave behind in this basket. Wanna check?”

Arrden nodded and got to his knees, sorting through the basket a moment. There were a handful of dolls there--some little brown bears or orange foxes, others moreso resembling people, but none of them were Daisy’s little flower doll. He had to wonder if there were tons of brothers ripping and running around town trying to find their little siblings’ dolls today, or if these had been left for months and years with no owner. It made him a bit sad, and for a moment he missed his own little childhood doll, even though Black Cat still sat safely on a shelf in his room.

As he stood back up, Sasi frowned. “It’s not there? I hope you find it.”

“I hope so too. I’ve got a few more places to check, though, so fingers crossed!” Arden sighed, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Sasi grinned, bangles clinking as she held up her own hands with their fingers crossed, prompting him to do the same. “Oh! My friend Kendall’s dad is planting flowers at Mrs. Ferns’ chicken coop next Saturday at nine, you’ll probably wanna ask him to be sure, but I think it’d be cool if you came! We’ll get apple pie after, too!”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” 

“I don’t think you’d be intruding! I mean--I’ll text Kendall and ask if you can come, but I doubt he’d say no!”

Sasi awkwardly rubbed her arm, her shoe nudging a divot into the soft dirt under them. “I’ve never really gardened before… I don’t think I’ve planted a seed since I was little, none of my family’s ever been good at it…”

“Oh! Between me and Kendall, you’ll be a pro in no time!”

“Then… maybe I’ll try it. Oh, I think my mom wanted to ask your dad to plant some moonflower seedlings by our gazebo… unless you wanted to come and do it sometime? We could trade numbers and figure out a time…”

Butterflies danced in Arrden’s stomach as he whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Y-Yeah, sure, let’s trade numbers--” unfortunately, he whipped it out so fast the phone flew out of his hand and plopped into the dirt by Sasi’s feet. The girl laughed a bit, bending down to get it and offer it back to him, and he smiled sheepishly. “Th-Thanks, Sasi…”

In just a few moments, the two had exchanged numbers and sent the customary ‘hey this is Arrden’ or ‘Hi this is Sasi’ texts, well on their way to expanding their friendship. Sasi even watched him leave from the opening of the tent, waving him goodbye as he skated away.

Arrden found himself humming a love song all the way to the pet store.

Right, he and Daisy had come here for cat food! After all, Arrden’s crime today hadn’t been leaving the house, but leaving the house with Daisy. He’d stopped to grab food and a new toy for their housecat, Shadow. Daisy had wanted to come along to see the adoptable puppies the Lees had raised, all ready to herd sheep on some other farmer’s land. Even though they didn’t have a farm, the puppies were still little fluffy bundles that Daisy just couldn’t resist playing with. However, he did send a few pics to Azzy, and had received some heart eye emojis in response. Who knows? Next time he went to their place, they might have a new bundle of joy bouncing around the fields. 

When he saw the puppies playing tug of war, his heart sank, but he instantly relaxed when he realized they were playing with a bundle of rope and not a little doll. Arrden doublechecked the rest of their outdoor pen, and even tried to peek into their dog house, before he decided ‘no way it's in there’ and instead made his way inside.

The shelves were well stocked with a variety of foods for a variety of animals, and all kinds of toys. There were even a few birds on display inside--he paused a moment to look at the fluffy-looking pigeons, and gently pat a couple of peachicks through the gaps in their cage. Tanks, leashes, training manuals, and treats were also available--a vast array of homemade cookies and biscuits with all kinds of berries and faux icing. ‘Human made, dog approved,’ the sign above them said. He’d been dared to eat one, a few years back, and truth be told he understood why the dogs liked them. Personally? Arrden wasn’t a fan.

He perused the entire store in search of his sister’s doll, double and triple checking the toy shelves to make sure he hadn’t missed it. God forbid, someone had traded for it thinking it was one of Mx. Miller’s handmade toys and already tossed it to the hounds. He tried to put that thought out of his mind.

After making one final loop around the store, Arrden approached the desk, where Mx. Miller was working on sewing up another pet toy out of scraps of old clothes and hand spun fabric. Right, a lot of people would donate their old and worn clothes to the shop so they could find new life as a beloved toy. At least, when they didn’t donate them to a teen hoping to learn embroidery or make new patches for their jacket. In that sense, Arrden and Mx. Miller were staunch competitors in the last life of beloved fabric market, if his patch-adorned vest had anything to say. 

“Hey, there! Can I help you with anything?” Mx. Miller asked as they looked up from their work. 

“Hi, uhm… my sister lost her doll earlier today, and I was wondering if you saw it by any chance? It’s about this big--” Arrden cupped his hand a little over a foot above the top of the counter. “--and looks like a white and yellow daisy, with green arms and legs.” 

Mx. Miller scrunched their nose--they must’ve seen all kinds of toys over the course of the day--and eventually shook their head. “I don’t remember seeing a doll like that. But if anyone brings one like that in, I’ll keep it in lost and found, alright?”

Arrden nodded quietly. “Okay! Thank you, Mx. Miller.” Arrden made his way out of the store, pausing a moment to ruffle one of the puppies’ heads a bit as it poked its head over the baby cage before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way off. 

No luck at the market, no luck at the music tent, no luck at the pet shop… his last hopes were the library, Mrs. Kitterling’s jewelry shop, or just… out in the street somewhere, stepped upon and dirty. Or worse. Someone had seen it and taken it, and Arrden was thoroughly screwed. 

He couldn’t lose hope. He’d stop by the library, cross his fingers, hope to any power there was that he found it alright. 

He felt the path change under the wheels of his board as he turned onto the Aster Town Library’s walkway. It was still old cobblestone, with a few cushiony low-growing groundcovers poking between the tracks. Comfy for shoes--or those who preferred to walk barefoot, like Sasi’s family--but not so great for itty bitty skateboard wheels, so he hopped off the board and tucked it under his arm and walked the rest of the way. To either side of the cobblestone path, there were gardens--to his left, an expansive meadow of wildflowers, almost like the garden at home, and to his right was a small pond with an array of koi and all kinds of other fish, their scales glittering like tiny drops of sunlight under the water’s surface. Dotted across both landscapes were benches, for people to enjoy a drink and a book while taking in the perfumed scent of flowers, or listening to the gentle trickle of the pond’s small waterfall. He checked all the outside benches, but deep down he knew Daisy’s doll wouldn’t be out here. These sitting spots were great and all, but Daisy spent most of her time in other spaces. 

Arden entered the library and placed his skateboard on the designated skateboard shelf by the door, which already had a couple of other tenants taking up slots. They were all a similar color to his, but he knew he’d be able to grab the right one--his was custom painted with a big yellow sunflower, spinning wheels and bees along the edges, and a couple of stickers in the blank spaces. He’d done everything but paint his name on the bottom of the board to mark it as his. Plus, everyone else had their boards painted--one had a bright big zinnia flower, with suns and moons both on the horizon, while another had a ferocious looking bear painted on with a wolf howling at the moon.

“Back again already?” Arrden turned to see one of the librarians, Mx. Kingsley, waving at him from the front desk. “You already returned your books, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“It’s not! Well, I do want more books, but--my sister lost her crochet doll, and I’m retracing my steps to try and find it. Did anyone turn it in?”

Mx. Kingsley shook their head, frowning a bit. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember any dolls being turned in today. I’ll go check the Lost and Found, why don’t you go ahead and look around while you get your books?” 

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Mx. Kingsley!” Arrden beamed, before heading off deeper into the library.

The library had always been one of his favorite places. When he wasn’t helping his parents with the garden, or hanging out with his friends after school, you could probably find Arrden tucked away somewhere on library grounds. He knew this place like the back of his hand--if he ever applied to volunteer here, no doubt he’d be let in, but he wanted to have a little bit more freedom before leashing himself to a formal volunteer position. Nevertheless, he was here all the time, and his sister Daisy was also becoming fond of the place. As Arrden perused the shelves, selecting a few books on beekeeping and wool spinning as well as a few novels, he took a moment to enjoy the pure library vibes. Small potted herbs grew on the shelves, bundles of mint to be snacked on, while posters for new books and fliers for town events adorned walls and bulletin boards all across the space. Every book in here was well-loved, the smell of old books mingling with the herbs and making everything just… heavenly. There were plenty of bright, sunny windows--some clear, most brightly colored stained glass works of trees and flowers sprouting out of open books--all with plenty of cushioned benches and rocking chairs and bean bags sprawled out underneath them. A few of the study rooms had been borrowed, a couple of kids studying in one, while the other had a handful of adults using the chalkboard to talk about something-or-another. Even still, Arrden knew his sister’s doll wouldn’t be in any of these places.

Instead, he stepped out the side door, and directly into the warm and cozy greenhouse area. A mix of colorful panels greeted him with spots of light on the ground, casting everything into an almost magical light. There were two large tables that were perfect for studying and craft sessions, potted herbs and even a few fruit trees along the sides of the walls, but best of all--a big, comfy chair, tucked into a corner with its own shelf of books nearby. This was his favorite spot in the library--and his sister’s too. Arrden was half-tempted to just sink into the big chair, curl up with one of his books, and let the hours pass as he lost himself among the pages of a story. The library was open through the night, but he’d never been allowed to stay past eight, because apparently fourteen was still too young to be out on his own late at night.

But no, he was here for a reason. So instead of settling into the chair, he checked the cushions to make sure the doll hadn’t been lost in the depth of it, but came up with nothing but a healthy dose of lint-fingers. Daisy’s doll wasn’t sitting on any of the tables or shelves either, nor was it on the floor. This was the only room Daisy ever liked to hang out in, so the odds of it being anywhere else were… slim.

As he made his way back to the front desk, he passed a shelf of books and a title stuck out to him--something about playing guitar for beginners. Well… it wouldn’t be so bad to do a bit of reading, would it? He took the book and tucked it under his arm with the others. 

“Find the books you’re looking for?” Mx. Miller asked as Arrden arrived to the desk.

“I did! Did you find my sister’s doll?”

The look on Mx. Miller’s face told him everything he needed to know, but even still they shook their head with a soft sigh. “There aren’t any dolls in the lost and found, kiddo. I hope you find it!”

Arrden sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hope so too.” He placed his books on the counter, and Mx. Miller began scanning them out of the system. 

“More books on beekeeping and spinning? I’d think you’d be one of the resident experts by now!” they said with a soft laugh.

“I just wanna make sure I know all I can! I still gotta get my parents to let me have the gear and all.”

“Oh, I remember when I was trying to start with my crafts. It took ages to convince my parents I could run a spinning wheel without hurting myself, but one day one of my friends let me try spinning with the wheel she had at her place. When I came back with a nice bundle of finished yarn I’d spun myself, and less bandages than they expected, my parents let me go get my own wheel the next day.”

Arrden hummed. “Maybe… but I dunno anyone with a wheel who’d let me borrow it.”

Mx. Miller arched an eyebrow, gesturing with their eyes towards the craft room in the back. “You know, I just dropped one of my older wheels into the tool space for borrow. How about the next time you come around, you put your skills to the test? I’ve got some hemp I’ve already combed out but I never ended up doing anything with it, I’m more than happy to let you learn spinning with it!”

“You’re for real?” Arrden beamed. “I’d love to! Oh, maybe I can come right after school Tuesday?”

“I’ll be sure to bring it in, then!” Mx. Miller slid the books across the counter back to Arrden. “You keep on reading until then, alright? I can’t help you with the bees, after all.”

“Okay! Oh, did you want anything for--I mean, I can maybe bring you some of my mom’s flowers, or--”

“Oh, no, no! We don’t have to trade for it! I just love helping young learners, you know? Now get going! You’ve still gotta find that doll!”

Arrden gasped and shoved the books into his tote. “Right! Thank you again, Mx. Miller!” at that, he rushed out of the door, grabbing his board and hopping onto it as he made his way down the path. He made his way to the last possible place the doll could be--Mrs. Kitterlings’ place.

On his way there, though, he found himself stopping, hopping off his skateboard a moment to look at a garden. It was a small pollinator garden, the likes of dozens around town--but this one was special to him. Not because of the big beautiful mural of butterflies and bees stopping to drink on a giant Asclepias syriaca on the brick wall overlooking it all--though common milkweed was one of his favorites for growing and trading. But because he remembered, ever so faintly, helping to start this place.

This garden--the East Avenue Pollinator Pod Garden--was one of the first Pollinator Pods to be planted in the town, about eight years ago now. He was a little kid then, and didn’t see the bigger picture--how this pod was the cornerstone that would help transform this town into the community he knew it as today. No, Arrden was just one of dozens of grubby little six year olds who were excited to get to play with dirt without getting into trouble for it that day. The adults had been working on clearing out the empty lot for ages by that point, transforming the place from some old tire-and-junk filled lot into safe, empty ground ready for planting. Not that Arrden was around to appreciate it when that work had started. He remembered following his mom around with a little plastic trowel, carefully digging where she instructed so she could help him gently place tiny little seedlings into the holes he made, or helping to scatter coreopsis, rudbeckia, and liatris seeds around while he played tag with Azzy and Kendall. His dad helped him try and properly pronounce the names, though there was still awhile where Asclepias were ‘Sleepies’ and rudbeckias were ‘Rudy-Becky’s’. And he remembered coming down with his dad every week during his mom’s working season to help water the plants and watch the life slowly fill into a place that had been so empty and barren for so long. He remembered coming to celebrate while his mom’s work group added a paved walkway, and a fountain, and a bench dedicated to a Mrs. Lianne Kitterling--the mayor at the time who had started the initiative to green up their spaces and their lives in the tiny town of Charlesville (a few years later, they’d rename the town Aster, and adopt the sunflower as their symbol). After this garden, so many more changes came--more solar panels and wind turbines floating high above the city, gardens spreading around every corner of the city, initiatives to clean the forest that bordered their town’s northern side and restore the prairie that used to be to its south. New people moved in, entranced by the changes taking place--like Sasi’s family, and his mom’s best friend Miss Dianne--and helping to shape the town into the colorful place it is now. 

It was honestly hard to remember what things were like before, but maybe that was because he was so little when the changes started happening. In second grade, they changed the school year--only four days a week, and about four hours for each day, instead of the five days and six hours that had apparently been standard for decades before. He couldn’t imagine how he’d manage school and his friends and hobbies if he was spending five days in school, let alone six hours each day! His Dad said before he was born, the town switched to seasonal work--everyone could choose to either work from January to June, or July to December, at any job. Before that, everyone worked practically every day of the year, which Arrden could scarcely imagine now. Maybe all the changes hadn’t started with this garden after all, but in Arrden’s mind, watching the garden grow was the first time he realized things were changing and growing--just like the caterpillars who called the garden home. The city was in its cocoon, shifting and changing, and even now his mother said its wings were only just now unfurling. 

“Hey, Arrden!” 

Arrden was snapped out of his thoughts by the familiar voice calling his name, and turned in time to see his friend Azzy--and their friend, Flare--riding up on their own boards. Azzy pulled to a--somewhat clumsy--stop and hopped off their board to come join him. “What’s up? Looking at the old garden?”

“I don’t think it's that old, Az. But, uh, guess I got lost in thought seeing it.”

“I feel you, man.” they took off their helmet, long blonde hair cascading to past their shoulders. “I was just here last week, getting a few volunteer hours in filling the empty gaps with more seedlings. Felt like I got rocketed back to the past for a moment. Crazy how well everything grew in, I coulda sworn we accidentally trampled half those seedlings but now look at it all!”

“You trampled the seedlings. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults came in a few days later to replace the ones you stepped on, but who knows.”

“Azzy and I were heading to the skate park,” Flare said, stepping over. “You want in?” 

“Ooh! Yeah, you should totally come hang! There’s even gonna be a band performing later tonight!” Azzy beamed, green eyes alight with excitement.

Arrden sighed. “I wish, but I still have that 8 o'clock curfew. And I lost my sister’s doll. I’ve gotta find it before my parents find out, or else I’m never getting that spinning wheel!”

“You lost Daisy’s daisy?! Aw, you’re in for it, man!”

He groaned. “I know!! If it’s not in Mrs. Kitterling’s place, I’m done for! I dunno where else it could be!”

“Fingers crossed for you, then! Oh, wait, Flare, you wanted to stop in Kitterlings’ too, right?”

Flare nodded. “My mom wants more decorations for her locs, and I might get some for when she twists my hair soon” she groaned. “I’m gonna miss the puffs, but having to wash and dry it all every week is driving me crazy!!”

“Aw, I don’t find it so bad! When it's my hair care day, I just plop on the couch with some snacks and turn on some good movies!”

“I wish it were that simple, my mom expects me to do so much to it! I might end up liking the twists better, who knows until I get them in? I think some bee charms’ll help!”

“Oh, you like bees?”

“Her dad’s the head of the beekeeper’s guild in town! He has, like, twenty hives!” Azzy beamed.

“Yeah, he’s been teaching me how to manage hives since I was ten! I have two hives of my own, too!”

“Ooh! I’ve been wanting to learn beekeeping for the longest while, but I haven’t gotten any hands-on experience yet!” Arrden said “I’ve checked out just about every book on beekeeping the library has, but my parents still don’t think I’m ready for a hive…”

“Why not join the guild, maybe apprentice for one of the beekeepers? I know my dad loves teaching hands-on!”

Arrden blinked dumbly. “I can join the guild if I don’t have any hives yet?”

“Dude! Yeah?! How are you supposed to take care of a real hive if you’ve never been near one before! Look--” Flare dug her phone out of her overall pocket. “We’ve gotta trade numbers, I’ll get you hooked up with Dad and maybe you can come over when he’s teaching Sasi Friday after school.”

“Sasi’s learning beekeeping?!”

“Yeah, I dunno, she didn’t catch me as the type but she told me last week that someone sparked her interest in it.”

“Oooh, wonder who that could’ve been?” Azzy laughed, nudging Arrden in the ribs. Arrden briefly remembered his last interaction with Sasi when Azzy was nearby, how they’d nudged him into talking about his interests and he wound up infodumping about bees all lunch period instead of eating. He’d thought he’d totally embarrassed himself! Was she actually interested in it now?

“Uh! Well! L-Let’s trade numbers, then!” Arrden handed Flare his phone, and Flare handed hers to him. They plugged in each others numbers and sent introductory texts and then handed back the phones. “So, you guys are going into Kitterlings?”

“Yeah, c’mon!”

Mrs. Kitterlings’ shop wasn’t very far--in fact, it was just a door away from the wall the pollinator pod was up against. The awning over the door and windows were a bit faded with age, the gold paint spelling out Kitterlings’ Jewelry chipping off the brick surface they were painted onto. Well loved, his mother had always said, the building’s well loved.

Well loved it was, indeed, with a lot of the ladies in town. Mrs. Kitterling was one of the only jewelers in town, but she made lots of items--asides from necklaces and bracelets, she also made earrings, rings, loc decorations, hearing aid jewelry, and more. This was on top of her supposedly growing some of the best roses and daffodils for barter. Or maybe the ladies liked her so much because she used to be the mayor, and had relinquished her position to instead let decisions be made by a panel of citizens a few years back? After she’d retired from politics, she’d opened the shop and almost immediately was the talk of the town all over again. 

Either way, Arrden wasn’t much of a jewelry guy--he found it got in the way most of the time. But he had been here earlier to get a new bracelet for his sister, with a little daisy charm made out of recycled metal. So the odds of him having lost the doll here were fairly high.

Flare almost immediately got distracted by the loc decorations on display, little burlap baggies full of gold and silver ones on the shelf underneath, but Azzy accompanied him to the front desk. Mrs. Kitterling was talking to another woman--Mrs. Deere, one of the kindergarten teachers--about placing an order for a custom pair of earrings. Today, Mrs. Kitterling was wearing hearing aid jewelry that made her ears look like butterfly wings, adorned with a mix of wire and recycled glass gems. 

Once Mrs. Deere had finished placing her order, Mrs. Kitterling turned to the two teens with a smile. “Ah, young Arrden and Azzy! A pleasure seeing you here again, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Kitterling. I, uh, lost my sister’s doll, did you see it by any chance?” Arrden asked.

“It’s, uhm, real important!” Azzy added, trying to back him up. Arrden appreciated the effort, Az.

Mrs. Kitterling hummed, adjusting her glasses. “Why, what does the doll look like?”

“It’s got a green body, and a big daisy flower for the head! Right, Arrden?” Azzy turned to Arrden, who nodded quietly.

“About… eight inches big, I think. Something like that.” Azzy procured their sketchbook from their bag, and Arrden nodded again. “About that big!”

“I think I did see a doll like that! I bet it's in the lost and found box, give me just one moment!” Mrs. Kitterling smiled before wheeling herself to the back room.

Arrden beamed, bouncing up and down a bit with Azzy. “She has it, she has it! Maybe I can get that spinning wheel after all!”

“Then we can team up and start making a buncha yarn! And you can learn how to spin hemp and stuff too!” they said.

“Your sister’s gonna be pretty damn happy too, right?” Flare said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That doll’s practically her best friend, she’s gonna be stoked!” Arrden gasped suddenly. “Shit! I still have to stop by the Ferns’ place to get eggs for my dad! And I promised Daisy I’d get her some Junebugs!”

“You’re going to Junebugs?!” Azzy gaped. “Hope you brought something good to trade!”

“...I’ve got some flowers?” Arrden opened his tote a bit to show the collection of cut flowers he’d brought. They were just a smidge wilted from spending the past hour or so traveling around town, but still fine to trade, right?

“That might be enough for some of a batch, but I dunno…” Azzy reached over and pat him on the back. “Fingers crossed for you, man.”

“Oh, god, you don’t think it’ll be enough? I dunno what I’m gonna do…”

Azzy hummed, tapping their chin. “I think they like raising insects. Any of those milkweeds got eggs on em?”

“Probably a couple, the monarchs have been going crazy in the garden lately.” Arden took out the milkweed stems and peered closely at the leaves. “I swear, it’d be harder to keep them away than to attract them… oh! When’d this guy get here?”

“Ooh, yeah, I see a caterpillar too! Right there!” Azzy said, pointing to a completely different leaf from the one Arrden was looking at. They then spotted the rather large caterpillar Arrden was staring at. “Oh! Guess you’ve got two! You might be good, then!”

“Oh, thank god.”

It was about then that Mrs. Kitterling wheeled her way back out to the front desk, smiling brightly as she set a little doll on the counter. “Little Daisy was still wearing a little necklace, too! Did you still want that, little Arrden?”

Arden huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No thank you, ma’am. Thanks for keeping Little Daisy safe!” It all made sense now--Daisy would always try and let her doll partake in activities, so she was probably taking necklaces off the shelves and putting them on the doll while Arrden handled the trade for the bracelet. Then she’d gotten so excited about putting her new bracelet on, she’d probably left the doll up on the counter. Then they had to hurry home to make it back before Dad finished with book club, and they’d forgotten it entirely… well, at least he had it back now! Just a few more errands, and he could bring it back before Daisy got impatient and told on him.

“Of course, of course! Was there anything else you needed?”

“Uhm,” Flare cut in. “I was actually wanting to trade for these bee decorations, if they’re available?”

“Oh, of course, Flare, dear! What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve gotta run a few more errands, but I’ll see you guys in school?” Arrden said, already backing up towards the door.

“Oh, definitely! See you!” Azzy beamed, waving goodbye as Arrden made his way out.

Truth be told, Arden was a bit fidgety the entire ride to the Ferns’ place. He was so relieved to have found the doll, but so anxious to let it out of his sight again, so he held it tight in his grip most of the way there. At least, until he decided he didn’t want to risk dropping it, so he’d put it in his tote bag to keep it safe. But with all the flowers and jars and books in his bag at this point, the doll kinda half-hung out of it, and so he’d get paranoid that it’d fall out so then he’d clutch it tight in his hand again… what was usually a maybe twenty minute ride from Mrs. Kitterlings to the Ferns’ stretched to about thirty just because of his indecisiveness.

It probably didn’t help that the roads up to the Ferns’ weren’t all too great. They lived out near the fields--not too far from Azzy, actually--but it was a route better suited for bikes and wagons. Dirt roads weren’t too good for skateboards, so Arrden ended up on foot a good chunk of the way. Not that he actually had to travel too too far up the road, as the Ferns kept a farm stand at the end of the long driveway to their house, stocked with cartons of the day’s fresh eggs from their amassment of chickens, quail, and pigeons. Early in the mornings, you could even find a few glass bottles of milk down in the cooler, or a few blocks of cheese and butter, or baskets of whatever fruit was in season up on the table. All you had to do was leave something of worthy trade in the exchange basket, like flower cuttings, or seeds, or handmade jewelry, or… anything, honestly. His dad said the Ferns practically begged people to take their eggs from them in the past, and yet every year they were more than eager to get more chicks to add to their flocks.

Arrden placed a jar of calendulas and rudbeckias on the trade counter, gently placing a carton of chicken eggs and a glass jar from the ‘givebacks’ counter into his bag. At least it gave him a safe place to sit Little Daisy--he imagined the doll felt quite comfortable, sitting nestled in a glass jar all to herself. After making sure everything was safe and secure, he made his way back down the dirt road, hopping onto his skateboard the instant it became a viable option.

The ride to Junebugs took him to basically the opposite side of town from his house back in the suburbs, not that it meant all too much to him. He liked the solitude he got from riding around on his skateboard, humming his favorite songs and feeling the wind in his hair. Still, the street lights might be coming on by the time he actually made it back. He’d worry about that later, for now he had to hurry to Junebugs before they closed shop for the day. Fortunately, he made it just in time--the sign still read ‘Open!’ on their front door. He enjoyed the perfumed scent of the serviceberry and apple flowers as he rode under their reaching branches on the pathway, the colorful pink blooms of native rhododendrons growing in bright surges around their trunks. Junebugs’ front garden was always a wonderful sight to see, though part of it was because being there almost always meant leaving with something sweet.

The front window counter was still open, so Arrden stepped off his board and made his way over to ding the little bell on the counter. “Just one moment!” a voice called out from further inside. Of course, Arrden didn’t mind waiting--waiting just meant getting to enjoy the scent of sugar syrups and honeys and glazes, the colorful sight of candied fruits and flowers alongside baked cookies and other pastries settled on drying racks. He could feel his mouth starting to water at just the thought of taking a bite of some. Unfortunately, he had to save all the candy for his sister, otherwise she’d definitely pitch a fit.

It didn’t take too long at all for Mx. Junebug to return to the counter. Their fingers were still stained with various colors from dealing with so many plants and candies, but they brushed it off on their apron and smiled. “Hey! I like your patches, kid. How can I help you?”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!! Uhm, do you have any candied strawberries? Or violets, maybe?”

Mx. Junebug leaned on the counter. “I have both right now, just finished a batch earlier today. What’re you wanting to trade for ‘em?”

“I! Have! Uhm…” Arrden set his tote bag on the counter and gently reached in to pull out the jar of flowers that remained--a handful of zinnias and milkweed, which fortunately the two caterpillars were still munching away on. “My mom grows lots of flowers! And these ones had some caterpillars on them! I heard you like them?”

Mx. Junebug’s eyes grew wide, and Arrden knew he had a good trade before they even said anything. “I will absolutely take those little buggies off your hand! Give me a moment to get you all set up, alright?” they said, taking the jar in both hands before disappearing further into the house. Arrden leaned against the wall by the counter, lazily watching bees fly around the serviceberry blossoms as he hummed under his breath. Ultimately, it didn’t take all too long for Junebug to come back with a small bioplastic baggie of candied strawberries and violets, tied off with a little bow of teal rope. “Here you go, kid! Hope you enjoy ‘em!”

“Thanks so much, Mx. Junebug!” Arrden grinned, waving before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way back onto the main streets.

The ride back home was fairly uneventful. For Arrden, at least. Things in Aster slowed down, sure, but they never came to a full halt. Even now, strings of fairy lights were beginning to turn on amongst the market’s awnings, powered by solar panels that had been collecting energy all afternoon. Though most stalls stayed closed through the night, the street instead became something akin to a giant party hall for those who preferred to be active through the night. Older teens and young adults danced to a collection of music--on one end of the street, there was a punk band performing, while on the other someone had brought a speaker and was playing party tunes from their phone. Arrden was half-tempted to join them--Kendall had been to a few night parties and said they were loads of fun--but if he didn’t get home soon, his parents would be upset. So he had to muster all his self-control to stay on his board and skate past the festivities, skate past the cozy-looking library that was all aglow as late night readers nestled into beanbags and chairs. Once he made it past the nightly temptations, though, it was just softly glowing street lamps until he made it back home.

As he stepped back inside, he was greeted with the sight of his mother resting on the couch with Daisy in her lap, watching TV. His dad was in the kitchen playing rock songs on the radio as he sang and cooked.

“Hey, Ma! Hey, Dad! I’m home!” Arrden beamed.

“Glad you’re home safe! Took you a bit longer than I was expecting, was everything alright?” his dad said, peeking out from the kitchen doorway.

“A bit, but I got sidetracked talking to some friends. Sorry I’m late, though.” he said, making his way into the kitchen to set his bag down before rushing back out to hug his mother. “Hey, Ma! How was work?”

“Oh, it was good! I was just telling Daisy about the new window we’re working on for the community center’s new makerspace! It’s going to be big and round, with a lovely big daisy!”

“Daisy! Like me!” Daisy beamed.

Arrden grinned and ruffled his sister’s hair. “Daisy, like you! I bet it’s gonna look great, Mama, you can build anything!”

His mother leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “You’re a sweetheart, Arrden, you know that? So, what’re you gonna do tonight?”

“Uh, I checked out some books from the library that I wanna read! I left them in the kitchen, actually, let me go get them!” Arrden hopped up from the couch to duck back into the kitchen to scoop up his books--and Daisy’s doll, hopefully before his dad spotted it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky--the doll was sitting in the jar, out on the counter beside his stack of books. He froze at the sight of it, and his father turned from the cooking to send him a look. Uh oh.

“Arrden? Let’s step outside a moment.” his father said, sliding a lid onto the simmering pasta sauce. “We need to chat.”

Uh oh.

Arrden nodded wordlessly, following his father out the back door into the backyard. There were a handful of fireflies flitting about as they made their way to the bench swing under the treehouse. His father leaned back in the seat, while Arrden sat hunched into his own shoulders. The silence was agonizing, as they sat out there, Arrden’s poor mind going wild with possibilities. He’d always tried to avoid getting into trouble with his parents, and he had a significant feeling that he was in trouble with his parents right now. Oh, he was never gonna get that spinning wheel at this rate, let alone a beehive!

“You went out to get Little Daisy back, didn’t you?” his father finally said, but he hadn’t looked away from the fireflies yet.

Arrden nodded quietly, then realized where his father’s eyes lay. “I-I did. I… wanted to bring it back before you realized it was gone, because…”

“Because you took Daisy out, even though we’d said she had to stay inside?”

“Y-Yes… I’m sorry, Dad, but she was being so sad, and I just wanted to cheer her up! We were safe the whole time, her ear didn’t even hurt at all, and--but… I shouldn’t have taken her, I’m sorry…”

His dad hummed. “I appreciate you looking out for your little sister, Arrden.” he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Lord knows my older brothers wouldn't've done the same for me at your age. And I understand why you wanted to find the doll before it became a larger issue. I’m not mad at you for trying to find the doll.” Arrden let out a sigh of relief, but paused as his father turned to him and held up a finger. “But. I’m a bit upset that you took Daisy out into the town without permission. What would you have done if she’d gotten hurt, or if her ear infection got worse while you were out?”

“...you’re right, Dad… does this mean I can’t have a spinning wheel…?”

His dad’s eyebrows arched, and his locs shifted as he tilted his head. “...not necessarily. I think you were irresponsible to do what I told you not to, but I can also see you were being responsible by looking for Little Daisy and owning up to your mistake. I do wish you would be more honest with me, though--I would have helped you look if you’d told me. And you wouldn’t’ve had to get bribe candy for your sister, either.”

“Did she tell on me?” Arrden pouted. “She promised not to if I got her candy.”

“I noticed she didn’t have the doll, and she was honest with me when I asked.” another hum from his dad. “...I’ll talk with your mother about letting you have a spinning wheel, but if you break our trust again, we’ll be pushing it back by at least a month. Alright?”

Arrden nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Dad.”

His dad laughed, ruffling his hair a moment as he stood to his feet. “You’re a good kid, Arrden. There’s worse things you could be doing than taking your sister out to play. Now, come on in when you’re ready, alright?”

“Alright, Dad.” at that, his Dad made his way inside, closing the door behind him, leaving Arrden sitting alone on the bench outside. He sighed, looking up at where the stars were beginning to peek their way through the darkening sky. He stayed there awhile, watching the fireflies and moths dance around the meadow, listening to the rustling of the wind in the tree’s branches, the gentle creak as he swung slowly back and forth on the swing.

He was a pretty good kid, huh?

-------------------------------------------

Special thanks to @1wren and @105ttt for beta-reading this fic for me!

[alpaca-clouds]

What's up with all the plastic in the ocean?

Let me talk about one really sad thing - and one where the information out there is just really bad.

A lot of you will have heard about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. And about how you should not use plastic straws and have to recycle all the plastic you use and what not, because it is killing all the poor animals and what not.

I am here to tell you... it's all a lie. All of it.

Now, let me first say: Recycling is a scam. Because of capitalism. Yes, we could recycle at least some of the plastics we use (not all of them), but for the most part we do not do that, because it just is too expensive. So most of the plastics you and I put into recycling end up in landfills... Most likely in landfills in poor nations, where the stuff gets shipped off to. We do not really do anything good with the recycling stuff. Because making new plastics is cheaper. Simple as that. Capitalism prefers the cheap stuff. So, recycling is not happening.

But also... that plastic usually is still not the biggest problem when it comes to plastic in the ocean. Like, that landfil plastics are a problem and they should not be there. But they are not the reason for the plastics in the ocean.

Now, let me first talk microplastics, even though they are off course not that much of the plastic in volume. But where does that microplastic come from? Media wants you to believe that it is just not-recycled plastic that has somehow been made small by the ocean... But that's not it.

Instead most of the microplastics come from cars. It is abrasions from tires and breaks, that collect on the roads and then through rain get slowly transported into the oceans.

But as you can see from the graph above: Most plastics in the oceans are actually macroplastics and megaplastics. So big pieces of plastic. So, what are those?

Mostly... Fishing waste. So, fishing nets, fishing lines and stuff like that, that after use get just thrown into the oceans. This is because the fishing industry is among the industries least regulated - for the simple fact that most industries that work off the ocean are hard to regulate. And of course in the end people are very unintrested in regulating such industries.

Which is also the reason for other stuff. Overfishing. Bycatch. All those things. It just is not properly regulated - and even what regulations are there are hard to enforce because... well, who is gonna enforce them out there.

So... really. To save the oceans... we gotta eat less fish.

[librarycards]

btw the point to saying that the recycling industry is mostly a lie is not “lol let’s give up and dump everything in a landfill” it means dealing with inconveniences and reducing single use plastics in every place where it’s possible & reusing plastics in inventive ways.

and dont you fucking tell me "but poor crips cant evvveeeerrrr do that!" bro we INVENTED this practice. it was gentrified. we need to take it back.

[as-i-watch]

Straw Hats as Fashion Trends that makes me go insane*

*you can wear whatever want to express yourself or whatever you like idc. What i hate if when brands™ overprice shit bc is "trendy" or set stupid trends like these. Seriously, dont look up the price of some of these

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Enjoy!

Detachable Shorts

Of course this feature was a need in the trouser world, think about the people with hot knees

I think it would be funny if Luffy wore this and undo the buckles to get into fight mode. The trouser equivalent of putting down the straps in your crocs.

Tits Out. [period]

Your arms are always cold? Hate vests? Well this is for you!

Still, i think this is so fitting for Zoro, we respect our tits out king and adds a little bit of himbo energy i appreciate.

Oda draws weird shit like this all the time

Yes this item was for sale and not on etsy. Why? beats me but here we are

I think its a nice refference to pre timeskip Nami outfits, but it actually fits into the post timeskip fanservice theme. I seriously see Nami wearing that.

Cool but why

Its a cool recycling project but im not even going to talk why brands selling these upset me.

I think i would be a fitting addition to Usopp's funky hats collection. Not only he would pull it off, he would steal the desing and make one himself like the king he is.

Pretty but WHYYY

I really like the effect and sawing this fabric is hard af but is more of a texture thing for me. Also my little practical self is screaming at this gloves but i see the aesthetic pleasing side i guess

So naturally i gave the gay gloves to Sanji. Tell you you cant picture him wearing these with his WCI white suit, come on do it, lie to me.

A classic we love to hate

Not you Chopper you are a delight. Im talking about the clear plastic backpacks. In case you missed thia trend, the issues with this are as clear as the bag itself.

So naturally, bc he always carries one, i gave the backpack to Chopper. Hope he fills it with colorful candy

I have vivid memories of this being a thing at some point

This are more of a pre timeskip item since they are from mis 2000's but yeah. They are useless, impractical and they offend me

Yet, i think Robin could've feature a look in a filler or something with these...anklets? I guess? Not the most far fetched imo

Cut and pin.

Not an issue of looks but of pricing. This are cute little tops but overpriced af, they just cut it and pin it.

Nevertheless, they scream Franky to me. They even kinda follow Franky's own stiches on his chest lmao

At a lost for words

I just dont get it. This is not a price thing, just a ok but why? thing.

If someone can do weird shit and get away with it is Brook and i love him for it. He could show up one day at Sunny wearing his coat backward and i wouldnt question it. I imagine him wearing that as a fancy look in a movie. He already wears high heels on the reg, and idk why but i know he has a pair of fishnets.

This fuck me up to this day

I dont mind the ilusion drawing idea, but seeing a whole rack of these in a sleep deprived state kinda fucks up your mind. I dont think it was a clever trend for clothes tho and im glad it died away.

I dont think Jinbe would wear the shirt, but hear me out. His kimono but in that stile, custom made. One day Usopp, Chopper and Luffy will paint it in and is going to be hilarious to see Jinbe walking around like a Father that let his kids do his hair and nails.

You can find more idiot post like this in my tag #straw hats as i make no promise of quality but i have fun

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Ahh ok today was fairly successful after very much not being so. But let's see how tomorrow fairs.

The list!!!!!

Take out regular recycling (needs sorted)

Deal with the small cardboard aka shove into the recepticle ✅️

Put together the drawers ✅️

Put the back on the wardrobe (screws or tape tbd)

Shriek about the clothing rack aka try to screw in again ✅️ I WANT TO SCREAM THE PARTS WERE MISLABELED. the clothing rack has been screwed in

Move suitcases and under bed items ✅️

Deal with bed + frame disassembly for selling ✅️

Kitchen -> dishes, counters, sink, oven

Rearrange boxes once everything is clean

Zip up pullout mattress

Recycle plastic wrap ✅️ decided to keep just in case but it has been put out of the way

I won't lie, this list is rather ambitious considering my entire evening will be friend time tomorrow. But i believe in me.

[brumeraven]

🪫: The Chains That Bind || angels, burnout, commoditization, dehumanization, exhaustion, I know that SCRAM is probably a backronym but it's so stupid I love it

"So, uhh..."

Shit, only three days. Knew I shouldn't have picked four in the pool... At least I didn't go with "Never," like Gloria from HR. Bitch should know better; they always, always ask. Might be a day, might be a week, but they always bring it up.

"You ever, uh, think about what exactly we're doing here?"

There it was. The million dollar question. Suppose that number should be revised well-upwards, honestly, power prices being what they were these days, but I couldn't be arsed to keep up with the current budget...

"Like, with that thing in there, ya know?" He gestured vaguely past the consoles before us towards the observation slit, as if there could be any doubt what he meant. Wasn't anything else to talk about around here, least of all the drab beige plastic that comprised every surface.

"Notice you haven't taken a peek yet, rookie. Superstitious much?" I kept my voice light, despite the lance of hot rage that pierced my breast. Close to a decade of experience meant I'd had practice enough at controlling Extrinsics.

"No! Just, I mean..." With a sigh, he stood and leaned forward to look, pressing forward with a near-reverent hesitance. I'd have to keep an eye on that. That spoke of assumptions, and assumptions lead to sloppy work.

I didn't need to look. Already knew what he was staring at.

And if I hadn't, well, it was painted on his face, plain as daylight. 4 solid inches of recycled cathedral glass lessened the intensity to something just-shy of blinding, but compared to the anemic fluorescence of the control room, he might as well have been staring at the sun.

"....hm." It was a disappointed sort of non-committal noise.

"Not what you expected?" Of course it wasn't, not on this side of the shielding. Anyone too sensitive would never have been allowed this close.

"It's...bright?" Disappointment, and the desire for confirmation.

"It's a toroidal cloud of plasma. What the hell did you expect?" Part of the ritual, this was. Debase, demean, lessen. Pinion its wings with the materialistic, the rational, the objective, the familiar.

I knew what he meant, but that part...that part was buried just out sight.

If a few hundred tons of concrete, ten of graphite, and a cell of industrial diamond could be called "just out of sight." Only been down there once; creeped me out when my clothes changed color. Tiny changes, but you never knew what tiny change in your genes would become cancer.

"Yeah, I, uh, can see. I guess I expected-"

"Arms, legs, wings? Some white robes? Maybe a harp or trumpet?" The first bit was true, at least sometimes. Music was a bad idea though. "It's not a person. It's a machine. A thing that was made to do a job. A car, not a yoked horse."

"Aren't you ...afraid though?"

"Afraid? Hell yes I am." That much was no lie. "I'm afraid my coffee is gonna become decaf in between sips, or my bra won't match my shirt, or some other Slip is gonna fuck up my perfectly good day answering your stupid questions." Easy, steady...

Woof. That was a pained look if I'd ever seen one. Fine, he needed more reassurance than that... "Look, of course I worry. Even without hypocertainty effects, there are ten thousand things that could go wrong here. And our job is to make sure they don't, okay?"

"Okay...but-"

"Look, keep your eyes on the gauges and the protocols in mind. Long as shit's all green, s'all good, yeah? Been here 11 years; most of the time when the alarms go off, it's just brumeraven buildup. We wet vent it out through the filters and someone gets a flat tire or something."

He nodded, if not with much conviction. "What's, uh, what's the worst that could happen?"

Fuck, where in the hell did they even find this guy?

Fine, if he wanted it... "Worst case, the Void coefficient inverts and goes positive. We end up with a criticality incursion, have to cut the outflows and you..." I leaned over to prod his arm for emphasis. "...you get to take ice cream and stuffed animals downstairs for it."

Well, that got a nervous giggle and a minute of silence. Probably for the best he thought it a joke for the moment. I waited, then, waited for the question he still hadn't asked, the one I knew was coming.

"But what...what if it breaks loose? What if it gets out?"

Bingo. It wouldn't. It couldn't. "It won't. It can't. Besides, that's my job." I tapped the badge clipped to my shirt, right on the crisp, serifed capital letters: SCRMNT. Safety Containment Responsibility Manager/Neutralization Technician. Corporate did love their acronyms...

"I mean, sure, no offense, but what exactly are you gonna do against that thing in there, if it breaks the control bonds?"

Ahhh, and there it was, the root of the misunderstanding. He still thought this was a prison of concrete and rebar, copper and steel.

"You don't understand. All this concrete and shit? That's all just shielding for our benefit. And for the power converters and all that. It's free to leave; not like we could stop it. But if she goes, whole power grid goes down."

It. Fuck.

"I don't understand. Why...?"

"Please, with all the hospitals and homes and hotels that depend on us?"

"..."

"You want to know how you keep an angel bound?"

The question hung in the air as I felt the hairs on my arm prick, and a fleeting sense of sorrow not my own slunk into my heart.

He nodded, waiting.

I smiled slowly.

"Responsibilities."

~🪫

[bumblee-stumblee]

Yes yes Hershey has a transwoman rep for woman's day sure you can boycott over that that's fine and your anger is justified but they are also using child slave labor after having signed an agreement in 2020 that they would *try* to eradicate the use of child slave labor in the production of cocoa products so you could also boycott them over that as well or in addition to.

Let's also remember that child slave labor increases almost every fucking easter because these fuckers have tried to make chocolate everything synonymous with Easter when they market chocolate bunnies, chocolate eggs and small chocolates to put inside of plastic egg containers.

She said the plaintiffs also did not adequately explain the role of intermediaries in the cocoa supply chain, noting that the companies did not monitor activity in "free zones" where about 70% to 80% of the cocoa is produced. Mali and the Ivory Coast share a border in West Africa. The plaintiffs said they were trafficked as children after being approached by unfamiliar men who promised paying jobs, but were ultimately not paid for their labor, threatened with starvation if they did not work, and required to live in squalor.

Don't forget the shit Nestle did either. They also responsible for child slaves being used in the production of chocolate, have killed infants by tricking parents into using formula in areas where water wasn't available or clean enough to use, are sucking the earth dry of drinking water and forcing people to go without it resort to deadly dirty water and routinely lie about the recyclability of their products.

[alotofmanythings]

Hey! I was wondering how you got your plastic canvases to stand up? I wanted to make a little 3D plastic canvas cross stitch but I can’t seem to find a lot of information out there :0

Hi! So, I live in Brazil and here it's not easy to find plastic canvas. The one I use is made with recycled plastic and it's stiffy (if you bend it, it will break). I don't know if this makes a difference. But anyway... what I did was leave a piece of plastic on the feet of the characters/object:

I bought a EVA foam sheet that looks like a towel to simulate the grass. I cut a line on the EVA and fit the piece of plastic in there. It's more secure if you cut the line a little smaller than the piece of plastic and fit it like the EVA is hugging it (I'm sorry, I don't know how to explain it better); the problem is that you create a lump on the bottow and it will not lie so flat… but looking from above like here and here, it doesn't appear to have anything there. I made that way because I wanted to move the little guys, but if you don't mind making it permanent, I guess you could cut the line the size of the plastic base and glue it? But then looking from above, you will see the line… One thing to have in mind is the weight of the canvas, since EVA is a floppy thing. But maybe it doesn't make so much difference since your canvas can be thinner? I think maybe cardboard can work too?

BUT, if you're talking about this one, I sewed the parts, and then glued the roof.

If it's not clear, you can ask more :)

[princess-of-the-corner]

The other thing is that our lives would literally be thrown into chaos if we got rid of plastic right now. that thing in front of you that you're reading this on? Gone.

The things they used to make Miraculous? Gone.

Tons of medical technology? Gone.

etc etc.

So like, Alternatives and reusables are good (and most recycling is a lie) but again, nuance, concrete ideas and objectives.

Let's not treat it like the 80's war on drugs. 'All drugs are bad m'kay?'

And here we are 30yrs later only just getting into the idea that oh hey, cannabis a lot less problematic than a ton of the synthetic stuff we consider legal and safe. But an entire generation was raised on 'Drugs are bad M'kay?'

sorry, I'll put away my soap box.

Oh yeah no it's good like!

There are a lot of problems with the idea of throwing out everything plastic right now. We don't have suitable replacements for things that use plastic! Like yeah a lot of technology and the like!

There's also like. For example: In the medical field, disposable plastic helps create a sterile environment easily. Yes we could use all metal/glass, but disinfection takes time and money that would fuck up the prices even more for us.

And even if we /did/ replace everything plastic right this second with no consequences, we'd still have to deal with all the plastic already created that is now rotting in a landfill instead of being used.