#Single-Use Plastics Regulation

[freyrsolutions]

EU SUP Directive: Key Challenges & Business Impacts

The European Union Directive (SUP)  was introduced to reduce the environmental impact of plastic waste, particularly in the marine environment. While marking key steps into sustainability and circular economy packaging, implementation of directives in sectors of various sectors presents several challenges, especially for  those using plastic materials for packaging, product design and assurance of EPR compliance. What is the EU SUP directive? The EU SUP Directive covers the top 10 disposable plastic objects most seen on European beaches, including cutlery, plates, straws, stir-fry and certain food containers. The EU ban includes the ban on some objects, the goal of reducing the consumption of other objects, identification, sensitization campaigns, and the requirements for  extended producer responsibility (EPR). Important issues for businesses 1. Material performance and testing Companies replacing prohibited plastics with alternatives must ensure that these alternatives meet EU composting and recyclability standards, such as the compostable plastic EN 13432. However, many alternatives have been exposed to issues relating to performance and regulatory approval issues. For example, materials can meet technical composting, but cannot function well under real conditions. This creates uncertainty regarding product liability. 2. Limited availability of alternatives The supply of scalable and compliant  plastic alternatives is still limited. This shortage affects sectors such as food service, personal care and consumer goods, which rely on materials such as plastics for hygiene and function. With increasing demand, competition for compliant materials is expected. 3..The ambiguity of regulations and differences between nations Although the guidelines are in the EU, each member state has its own interpretation and assertion mechanisms, leading to inconsistent application. Companies working in several countries need to adapt their packaging adaptation strategies to increase costs and complexity. 4.. Economic impacts and redesign of costs Migrating to SUP-compliant products requires redesigning existing packaging, updating labeling, testing new materials, and investing in new manufacturing technologies. These changes can be particularly difficult for small and medium-sized businesses (small and medium-sized businesses). This can result in short supply of resources to adapt quickly. 5. Product Category Limitations Certain product categories such as plastic straws, stir-fry and polystyrene containers are mocks, even if they are used in niches and essential applications. Companies need to develop their products or packaging completely without a transition period in some cases. Conclusion Regulations on the individual birth of plastics reflect the growing global concerns about plastic pollution and lead to a clear path to sustainable product design. However, it also poses considerable compliance and operational challenges for the SUP guidelines. Companies must be proactive, informed and flexible in their responses. With proper regulatory support, businesses can transform these challenges into innovation options and lead them to the future of plastics. Freyr helps businesses address the challenges of these SUP guidelines by providing end-to-end regulatory support. From identifying approved alternatives and adjusting material compatibility tests to marking and document assurance, Freyr simplifies  complex transition processes. Experts also help prepare regulatory submissions and manage cross-border compliance, helping businesses adapt quickly and cheaply.

[headspace-hotel]

The closest experience I've ever had to discovering "the vitamin" was buying a 100% wool outfit and wearing it in the winter.

Not only was I not freezing anymore, I was not sweating and overheating either. The horrible sensory nightmare of winter clothes disappeared.

In particular, I bought a pair of wool pants. They were a thrifted pair of fancy dress pants like you would wear at an important office job, and they were easily the most comfortable pair of winter-appropriate pants i'd ever worn. I wore them Every Single Day.

From that point on I realized a lot of my clothes were making me feel bad, and the common thread was polyester. Especially polyester blends.

It's a trap because the polyester clothes are the ones that always feel sooooo silky soft when they are in the store, whereas cotton, linen and wool can feel comparatively rough and scratchy. But when actually wearing them for hours throughout the day, it's the natural fibers that feel more comfortable.

Maybe the secret to sensory comfort is not about the presence of softness, but the absence of overloading sensations. Or maybe the sensory stress and agony is not triggered by texture of the fabric, but by how it breathes and regulates temperature.

Then there's the problem of clothing life span: polyester blends, no matter how soft they seem at first, become rough and scratchy and covered in hard, itchy pills after wearing them 10 or 20 times, whether or not they have been tumble-dried or even washed at all. (I tested it!) Linen and cotton become softer and more comfy the more you wear them, polyester but ESPECIALLY polyester blends become a constant stressor. Polyester blend t-shirts I used to love for their softness now feel bristly and irritating.

So now I'm trying to change my wardrobe to as many natural fibers as possible, and the more natural fiber clothes i have the more I realize that the plastic fibers stress me out. It's so easy to overheat or freeze in them and they're always degrading and becoming less comfortable and it sucks.

[reasonsforhope]

"A German bio-tech company has developed a naturally-occurring enzyme discovered in a cemetery into a near-market ready solution for recycling plastic without any loss of quality.

In 2022, GNN reported on a paper published by Leipzig-based scientists who first identified the enzyme. At the time, the enzyme was subject to a small side-by-side test, and caused the polyethylene terephthalate (PET) plastic to decompose by a whopping 90%.

Pictured: Before and After: A container of PET after 24 hours of contact with the enzyme leaves only dye

Fast forward to the spring of 2025 and those same scientists have perfected the capabilities of that enzyme, called PHL7, and have founded ESTER Biotech to bring those capabilities to market.

Their initial plan to be finished next year is a bathtub-sized pilot project reactor. If successful, their 2030 plan will be four 350 cubic-meter reactors capable of processing 45,000 metric tons of PET plastic every year.

PHL7 and ESTER Biotech boast several advantages over chemical and thermal recycling methods. For starters, once the polymers of PET are broken by the enzyme into monomers, or single component parts, they have suffered no degradation of their material characteristics unlike some recycled plastic which is weaker or less stable.

Additionally, PHL7 is exceptionally stable from 32 to 203 degrees Fahrenheit (0-95°C), and per kilogram of plastic, a dose of only 0.02% to 0.06% of the enzyme is required—substantially less than existing alternatives. Their new version of the enzyme also recycles the plastic several hours faster.

“Our technology makes it possible to bring material flows that are currently burned back to the beginning of the cycle at the molecular level,” says Christian Sonnendecker, lead author on the paper of the enzyme’s discovery, and co-founder of ESTER Biotech at the University of Leipzig. “And with high energy efficiency and scalability.”

“We are only at the beginning. But we are convinced that when science, entrepreneurial spirit and social responsibility come together, a cemetery enzyme can become a beacon of hope for a better future.”

RECYCLING BREAKTHROUGHS: 

Scientists in Japan Develop Non-Toxic Plastic That Dissolves in Seawater Within Hours

Cornell Researchers Create First-of-its-Kind Durable and Recyclable Plastic

New Process ‘Vaporizes’ Plastic Bags and Bottles to Help Make Recycled Materials

Revolutionary New ‘Living Plastic’ That Could Slash Damage to the Environment Developed by California Researchers

ESTER Biotech’s enzyme is able to separate certain multilayer composites which are normally thought of as unrecyclable. In addition to the infrastructure of the pilot project, ESTER is currently working with two medium-sized partners to build a cost-efficient supply chain with an aim to reduce the enzyme price to between 100 and 200 euros per kilogram.

Though no currently-commercialized recycling method can compete with the cost of virgin plastic, a price between 100 and 200 euros will put it in line with existing competitors.

Fortunately for anyone in the space, the EU is not afraid to use heavy-handed regulation to guarantee plastic recycling rates. By 2040, under existing EU legislation, 65% of plastic production will be mandated to come from recycled sources. ESTER believes that with its potential to offer a higher quality “recyclate,” the incentive to pursue and expand enzymatic methods will increase."

-via Good News Network, June 13, 2025

[gaylienz]

The 7 R’s of Sustainability:

Did you know that ‘recycling’ is step 6 of the 7 Rs of sustainability? The other R’s are just as important even if they are often forgotten.

Rethink- Do I really need to buy this? The point of this step is to stop and think.

Refuse- Does this product damage the environment? If so, refuse to spend your money on it. i.e. single use plastics, harsh chemicals

Reduce- How much of this do I really need? Buy less! Buy in bulk when you can as it often equals less packaging to throw out.

Reuse- Can I use this product again? Can I fix what I have so that I don’t need to buy something new? Reuse that plastic water bottle a few times. And instead of buying new, try thrift shopping, flea markets, yard sales etc.

Repurpose- Unlimited creativity! Does this item have another use? i.e. old torn clothes can be rags or plastic cups can be planters.

Recycle- Can I recycle this? Not everything can be. There are also some important steps to making sure your recycling is done properly. If unsure, look up local recycling regulations.

Rot- Can I compost this? Food waste, yard clippings, newspapers and many other items can be composted instead of being tossed in the trash. Composting is surprisingly simple and helps reduce harmful greenhouse gasses from entering the atmosphere.

What is the point of the R’s? The number one benefit of the 7 R’s are the reduction of the amount of waste sent to incinerators and landfills. The EPA website provides a lot of useful information. Other benefits that we can reap from implementing these concepts in our life are (as listed on the EPA website): • Prevents pollution caused by reducing the need to harvest new raw materials • Saves energy from not making a new product • Reduces greenhouse gas emissions that contribute to climate change • Helps sustain the environment and natural resources for future generations • Saves money from processing our waste • Increases economic security by tapping a domestic source of materials • Helps create jobs in the recycling and manufacturing industries in the United States

https://www.northglenn.org/government/departments/public_works/trash/recycling.php https://www.nrdc.org/stories/composting-101 https://www.epa.gov/recycle https://www.northglenn.org/Recycling%20Article.pdf

[montereybayaquarium]

Calling all California-based ocean champions! 🌊🏆

We need Californians to call Governor Newsom and let him know that you “want SB 54 regulations to move forward without delay, so California can continue to be a global leader in addressing the plastic pollution problem.”  Please call Governor Newsom’s office this week at 916.445.2841 and select option 6 to speak to a representative.

SB 54 is the first law of its kind to reduce the amount of single-use plastic packaging in the marketplace and hold companies accountable for the waste they produce. This law is a major victory for our ocean planet. 

We need your voice to help reduce plastic pollution and push an important state law forward! 

Add a note 📱🐟 when you've made the call.

[marlynnofmany]

Unexpected Blue

The ship’s engine changed pitch suddenly, and before I could worry about it, the intercom binged with an announcement from the captain.

“We’re making a brief detour,” she said. “A different courier didn’t quite make it to their destination, and they need us to do the dropoff. Should be an easy one. Mur and Robin, you’re next up.” 

So I was. Dang. I’d thought I had some time before the next delivery, but it looked like reading in the crew lounge would have to wait. I turned back toward my quarters, leaving the sound of Telly purring under the heat lamp behind me. She’d probably still be there when I was done. I left my reading tablet in my quarters and hurried to the cockpit.

Captain Sunlight was already talking to Mur while Kavlae took us in for a landing. The view on the main screen was eyecatching: a nearby sun brighter than the captain’s scales, and something exceptionally reflective on the barren landing pad.

Is that the other ship? I thought, squinting. Ow.

Kavlae muttered about manufacturing regulations and adjusted the screen’s filters. The view dimmed, but not to the point where she couldn’t see where to land.

Mur huffed. “I don’t trust the judgement of anyone who flies one of those.” Several of his tentacles were crossed in irritation, with others tapping on the floor.

“I have my reservations as well,” said the captain. “But this delivery is both small and urgent, and they’re offering a more than reasonable cut of their rates. I understand the item is farming supplies of some sort. Needed in a hurry.” She glanced up at the view of the approaching landing pad. A figure in an exo suit waited outside the other ship. “Let’s hurry to the airlock.”

We hurried. I had the easiest time of it, walking at my normal long-legged pace while Captain Sunlight trotted along with dignity and Mur was a whirl of tentacles. We made it there as the engines whined a landing.

The nearest intercom beeped, and Kavlae’s voice spoke from the single speaker. “Ready? Our contact here looks ready to hand over the item.” 

Captain Sunlight pressed the button and spoke back. “Go ahead.”

On the other side of the door, air whooshed and the outer hatch opened. I peered over the captain’s head to see somebody in an exo suit step inside, place a box on the floor, then run back outside and wave at us.

The hatch closed while the captain made a thoughtful sound. Air wooshed again.

Through the intercom, Kavlae said, “They’ve transferred a good-faith payment and another message to hurry. I’ve already scanned for known contagion. Grab it and I’ll take off.” 

When our door opened, Captain Sunlight strode in and picked up the medium-sized white plastic box, then carried it out into the hallway, checking every side for damage. A gust of cold air followed, and the door slid shut behind her. Engine pitch said we were rocketing into space again. Good old artificial gravity meant I didn’t have to give it a moment’s thought. I could focus on the mystery item instead.

“So how close is — Wait, is that a timer?” I asked as I caught a glimpse of a digital readout on the far side of the box. The numbers were awfully low. Minutes.

“Yes,” said Captain Sunlight tersely. “Kavlae is hurrying. We’re going to land somewhere unofficial; be prepared to hop down if there isn’t a suitable landing pad and she has to hover.”

“Is it a farm?” I asked, thinking back to the earlier conversation.

“Do we need exo suits?” Mur asked. That was a better question.

Captain Sunlight shook her head. “No, the moon we’re headed to has standard air. The first delivery ship crashed on one that doesn’t. They almost reached the right one, then had a power failure. Assistance is some ways out.”

Mur wove his tentacles together in a new way that looked just as judgmental as the last. “Of course they had a power failure. They’re lucky they didn’t give that moon a new crater.”

“Their poor choice in transportation is not our problem,” declared the captain. “This is.” She handed the box to me. It was surprisingly light, though something slid inside when I tilted it to look at the timer.

That was a really short amount of time. “What happens if we’re late?” I asked.

Mur scowled. “That had better not be one of those fertilizer bombs.”

“The client said specifically that it’s not explosive,” Captain Sunlight told him.

“That’s just what someone hoping to trick us into doing something dangerous would say,” Mur replied.

“They had a respectable rating. Well. Respectable enough for someone with a delivery vehicle that breaks down if you look at it wrong.”

“There’s no way to look at it right.”

The intercom beeped. “Coming in for a landing,” Kavlae reported. “Farms and ranches, as promised, with permission from the property owner to hover over the road in front of her house. Air and weather are good. Be ready to run.” 

Captain Sunlight pressed the button with a look at us. “Ready.” She stood to the side.

Mur grumbled, “Do we really need two people for this? It’s a one-person carry.”

“Best to follow protocol,” the captain told him. “And you get to catch it if she trips.”

“Hey, that happened one time,” I objected.

“This would be a bad time for twice.”

“Good point.”

Mur sighed dramatically, but took a position next to me at the airlock. In moments, the engines made their hovering-but-not-landing whine, and both doors opened.

Reddish dirt road, gray and yellow bushes, a domed house with ridges that looked like a seashell plopped on the ground, and several other fences and whatnot that I didn’t have time to take in.

There were seconds left on the timer, and a long driveway to run down.

As I tucked the box against my side and placed a hand on the doorstep, I felt the disturbing sensation of something moving inside of it. I jumped down and took the box firmly in both hands. It almost jumped out of my grasp.

Mur saw. “It’s moving?” He leapt after me with a plop. “Is it a faulty auto-drill? Those are dangerous! Don’t hold it too close to you!”

From the airlock, Captain Sunlight called, “Run!”

I gritted my teeth, held it at arm’s length, and ran towards the farmhouse. The sun reflected hot off the architecture, the wind in my face was hotter, and whatever was in the box jolted eagerly against the side. I desperately hoped that I wasn’t about to get a drill through my hand.

But the client was there on the front step waiting for me: a middle-aged Frillian woman wearing overalls that looked like they’d been a deep space jumpsuit once, cut to shape with gardening shears. Her frills were waving happily. Good sign.

“Just in time!” she declared as I skidded to a stop, holding the box with the timer toward her. She plucked it from my grasp. I caught my breath and tried not to look too relieved.

Tentacles slapping dirt told me Mur had joined us. I focused on breathing evenly and wondering what the client was about to do with that knife.

Without a word, she sliced the box open as easily as if it was cardboard and not industrial shipping plastic. That was some knife. But she didn’t open it; she clapped a hand on the top to keep it shut while she sheathed the knife at her belt. With the way the box was jumping, I was impressed she hadn’t cut her fingers.

When she moved forward with purpose, I danced aside to let her pass. Mur scrambled out of the way. The client strode over to a fenced-in area that had mesh over the top, looking something like a large chicken coop. She bumped a latch with an elbow, opened a little door, then shoved the box through and dumped its contents onto the ground.

Something round, brown, and furry tumbled free.

Mur asked, “Is that an animal?”

When it stopped rolling and stayed perfectly round, I said, “It looks like a coconut.”

It jumped some more, prompting Mur to guess again. “Is it an egg with fur?”

The client just grinned at us, clearly enjoying this.

I thought wildly of Mexican jumping beans back on Earth, and the larva that grew inside. Surely not.

The thing stopped jumping and kind of wiggled in place, and I heard a scratching sound. There was a flash of motion on the far side of it. Amazed, I stepped to the side for a better look. The client joined me, and so did Mur. The three of us watched a small blue creature crawl out of a hole in the nut, then spread its wings for what had to be the first time. It looked like a feathery moth the size of a kite, with a row of crab legs along the front. The feathers shone iridescent blue in the sun.

The client tutted beside me. “It’s not ultramarine at all! Those liars. I am going to tell everyone. What a waste. Just another blue.” She tapped the wire mesh with a palm. “Hey all, come meet your new friend!”

The bushes along the edge of the coop that I hadn’t been paying attention to — the ones I’d subconsciously assumed were covered in big blueish leaves — exploded into a cloud of vivid blue wings. They swirled around the coop before coming to land on every available surface, fanning their wings in the sun. It was a glorious sight.

“I really hoped to breed some ultramarines,” the client said with a sigh. “Oh well, maybe I can find a reputable seller next season. Thanks for the rush delivery. You’ve got a feather on you.”

“What?” I asked, but she was already plucking it out of my hair and handing it to me.

“Keep it if you like; my stock is carefully screened for everything. Oh, and you’ve got — well, that’s valuable stuff in some circles.”

She was talking to Mur now. I looked down to see my squidlike crewmate covered in a fine dusting of blue iridescence. A glance at the feather showed it to be trailing similar dust across my fingers.

Mur said, “I shall take that under advisement,” then he began tentacle-walking back toward the ship with as much dignity as he could muster.

Normally I would have had the client sign for the delivery, but this one was a rush job without the usual paperwork. “You’ve been in touch with our ship, right? Got everything settled?”

“Yes, I authorized the payment when you got here,” she said. “Your pilot assured me all was well, and she was right.” She glanced back at the coop full of blue. “Well, as right as can be. I should have known not to trust a breeder who flies that brand of ship.”

“Was that the actual person you bought it from?” I asked, thinking of the silver disaster. “Not another delivery company?”

She waved a hand. “He does a lot of things. Never sticks with any of them long enough to get anywhere. Like I said, I should have known.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s currently broken down on a cold moon with the repair services a ways out.”

She smiled. “That does make me feel better. Thank you. Now I must be off to warn everyone else not to believe that liar, and you should make sure your friend there gets all of that off. I’m told his species doesn’t react well to it.”

“Good to know, thank you. I’m sure our medic will be all over it.”

“The extra dust will brush off that easily enough,” she told me, pointing at the feather. “Goodbye!”

I said my goodbyes and more thanks, and hurried after Mur. I carefully dusted off the feather as I went, leaving a trail of brilliant blue glittering in the breeze.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[nothorses]

So I'm thinking of going on low dose T, and ofc I'll get more feedback from doctors when I see them, but I know one of the changes is that you run warmer and have lower heat tolerance, and I'm already kind of heat sensitive (sweating is a sensory ick). Do you or your followers have any kind of coping strategies that have helped with that?

I ran warm before, too, and I'm definitely warmer now! I also have Raynaud's which kind of makes the whole experience a clusterfuck, but that's besides the point. lmao.

I live in a pretty cool/temperate area, so it isn't normally an issue except in the (increasingly horrible) summers, but I've found that the hardest time to stay cool has been at night. I share a bed with my partner who runs even warmer, and it's been 2.5 years of struggling to figure out how to be a comfortable temperature together.

The best advice I can give you is to just stay as far away from synthetic fibers as you can; "sweat wicking" and "cooling" and "athletic" stuff included. It's a lie. They're all plastic, and while they might feel cool to the touch at first, plastic doesn't breathe. It'll trap heat and moisture against your skin after enough time, especially in the form of blankets. (Fuck the Rest Evercool. Worst recommendation I've ever gotten.)

Look for 100% linen, or 100% cotton. I've heard wool also works well, but I haven't had luck with that personally. Woven fabrics are going to be cooler and more breathable than sateen, and waffle weave is like, the single most breathable weave afaik (it's more common in blankets, but some clothes are waffle).

Some of these things can be pretty scratchy at first, and I recommend a couple of washes on a high heat & some fabric softener before you start using them. We were able to break in our waffle blanket super quickly this way! (I know some folks recommend against softener for breathability reasons, but it's the only thing that actually worked for us, and it hasn't impacted breathability). After you break them in, though, cotton and linen fabrics are SUPER soft!

I also recommend staying away from leather. It's natural, but trust me: it's not breathable. It's coveted in outdoor rec spaces BECAUSE it's somewhat waterproof.

Outside of that, I'd really encourage you to lean towards multiple light layers that you can change/remove throughout the day to suit your needs (ex: light tee + fleece + wind/rain layer, maybe throw in a flannel somewhere), instead of one or two heavy ones (ex: shirt + big puffy cold weather jacket). It's a strategy common in the PNW that works great for regulating your temperature when you're dealing with humidity and somewhat unpredictable weather, and imo, it also really translates if you're just generally sensitive to heat and sweat.

Outside of that... depending on where you live, I really recommend having an AC/dehumidifier. Don't bother with trying to rig up a swamp cooler if you're sensitive to sweat- the increased humidity will make things worse. The general advice I heard when researching a good AC was that window units will always be more efficient than portable units (and a mini split is better than either), but if you have to go with a portable unit, go with a dual-hose. They'll be more efficient just because they don't create a vacuum that pulls in warm air from outside. This is the model we settled on- it was really highly recommended and cost effective for what it is, and it's been absolutely fantastic this summer.

Idk how you are about pits, but I wash mine with a benzoyl body wash and then use a deodorant with antiperspirant every day, and I virtually never smell or sweat. 🤷‍♂️ ymmv though

I'm sure folks will have things to add, so check the notes on this post- and good luck!

[trancylovecraft]

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART ? OF 8: Lewin

(SIDE-STORY) (Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: Lil bit of a fun side-chapter <3 enjoy GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST,

“Lewin, Come on. I want to take the exorcist exam. I’m skilled enough, Aren’t I?”

“Yeah, Of course you are, Munchkin. But you just can’t go for the exam just yet”

“Why not..?! My teacher, You know him- Mr Okumura? He did it at thirteen! I’m fifteen now, So why can’t I?”

It was dark.

The room was enveloped in an unending black, The faint silhouettes of furniture and other assorted garbage only being able to be vaguely seen in the shadows. The lights clicked off, Bulbs only dangling from the ceiling above.

The only source of light was the faint glow from the old flat screen, Hung up on the wall as the luminescence flickered over them. The table, The rug, The old furniture, The wrappers of snacks eaten and plastic bottles of pop strewn across the room.

Lewin laid upon the couch, Elbow propping himself up on one of the arms of the couch. He breathed out, Slowly and controlled as he took in the rotten air of his apartment that he had grown so used to.

The TV continued to blather on in the background, Bumps of noise in the form of chatter, Muffled in the background. It was some dumb action movie, The kind that rolled out in theatres once, Did fairly alright and was now regulated to the late-night slot on TV networks.

An all-too talented protagonist, A sidekick comic relief, A woman whose breasts the camera focused on. Lewin huffed, At this point in the movie he would’ve been focused on them too. It was a part of the appeal of course, Lewin had no shame in admitting what he enjoyed.

But he could barely even bring his eyes to look at the screen, No.

Instead they were focused on her, [F/N].

His apprentice, Curled up beside him on the busted up sofa of his apartment. Her legs were sprawled out on the cushions, Her head resting idly on his chest. Lewin could feel the warmth of her body heat through the thick shirt he dozed in, Gentle, Yet strong.

She was fast asleep, Her eyes gently shut as the light of the TV flickered across her face, Lips parted as drool began to stain the old white shirt Lewin wore. He watched as her chest rose up and down, Slowly, Her breathing light.

[F/N] had fallen asleep during the film. Figures, Considering she had a rather tough day at school. A bag half-full of salted butterkist was cradled in her lazing arms, Crinkling as she shifted, Almost threatening to spill on the floor.

It was such a mundane sight.. Yet for some reason-

Lewin couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He usually hated this, People sleeping on him. Lewin hated the way their weight pushed down on him, Hated the way they kept him in place, How he had to keep himself in a specific position just so they wouldn’t slip.

When he was out on a mission and a fellow exorcist happened to doze off on him, He had absolutely no problem in shoving them off however roughly. That’s just how it was, Why should he let anyone else rely on him as support?

Lewin didn’t care, Not a single bit.

“I mean, You take me out on so many missions as it is and I can barely do anything at all! Wouldn’t it be best for both of us if I just got my licence?”

“No.. No, You don’t understand. I told you, [F/N], You just can’t take the exam just yet.”

“Come on, Lew’.. I won’t even take on an upper-class demon if you don’t want me to. I just want my licence. Is that too hard to ask?”

But as [F/N] shifted against him..

Lewin’s arm was slung around her form, Keeping her cosy against his side as he lazed on the couch. He tugged her closer towards him, Lightly, Almost without thought as his thumb began to absentmindedly draw circles on her side.

His little apprentice, Lewin had never expected.. This.

She was wearing one of his old shirts, Worn out and stained on the sleeves. It wasn’t rare for her to use his clothing as pyjamas or even just everyday wear. Lewin could almost laugh, His sloppiness seemed to have rubbed off on her.

He remembered when he first brought her to his house back in Texas, Lewin hadn’t prepared for another person to be living with him so he had just tossed her a few shirts and shorts to use as nightwear.

[F/N] had taken them without a word, Picking them up with the rest of her belongings as she wandered into the spare room, Now her bedroom.

Was it wrong to say Lewin didn’t care for her at all when they first met?

“Yeah, Well that Okumura guy’s a special case, You ain’t that.”

“Oh come on..”

“No, No. Don’t give me that attitude, Kiddo. I’m your master, Right? So you listen to me when I’m speaking to you.”

“..You sound like Osceola.”

“Ha! Do I? I didn’t notice!”

The TV continued to blather on in the background, But the soft breath’s [F/N] took was all he could hear. Lewin just pulled her closer to him as he sunk back in the couch, Remote hanging out his hand as he kept her neatly tucked under his arm.

Lewin didn’t know the kind of feeling that was brewing in his chest.

It was like a weight was tugging down on his stomach, Heavy yet there was a light fluttering in his chest to chase it. How curious, Lewin could feel his heartbeat begin to mellow out, A sense of comfort washing over him.

How strange.

Lewin’s jaw was impossibly tight, His body incapable rigid. The hand that drew circles into [F/N]’s side ceased, Pausing, If only for a minute.

[F/N] had always been independent, Always been so free-spirited. She was much like him in that way, How she took things into her own hands and followed the beat of her own drum. Lewin had always appreciated those traits in others, Always seen it as a positive quality.

But..

“Please, Lew’.. I want to be an exorcist so bad, Like- An actual exorcist. I’ve got the blessing from Azazel, I got the experience out in the field- Even Osceola said I’m good enough for Upper-Class! I’m more than qualified..!”

“[F/N]..”

“So why? Why am I not allowed to take the exorcist exam?”

[F/N] wanted to go through the exorcist exam, She wanted to become an actual exorcist.

She’d been going on about it for weeks now after finding out that her teacher had done it when he was a kid. [F/N] wanted to take the goddamn exam, And by all means she certainly did have the skills for it.

Osceola was right when he said she was good enough for Upper-Class, There was no doubt that she would be able to take on an Upper-Level demon. Her penchant was enough to pacify and she had the skills and the weaponry to exorcise without a hitch. 

She was so talented, So skilled.

His little prodigy.

Lewin didn’t want her to leave.

Lewin knew he was being selfish, Of course he did, But he couldn’t bring himself to care. If she took the exam then that would mean she would become too independent, She’d be able to do so much on her own-

As soon as she hit eighteen she’d be able to leave and find herself her own place to live with the salary she makes, She’d be able to go out on missions on her own- Hell, It was expected for an Upper-Class exorcist.

In other words, She’d be able to leave him.

Lewin didn’t want that, No- Not when she made him feel like this, Make him feel so.. Tranquil, Peaceful. Lewin didn’t know if there would ever be a word to describe how he felt, How he felt about her.

Lewin leaned down, Pushing back the strands of her hair before leaving a slow peck on the crown of her forehead. A frown still lined across his face. An eye softened from behind the parting of his hair.

The feeling was.. Fraternal.

His lips moved away from her forehead, Instead choosing to rest his chin on the top of her head. Lewin wasn’t going to let her leave him, Wasn’t going to let her go.

She could go anywhere at all, She could talk with anyone she wished, She could do whatever she wanted to do as long as she came back home to him at the end of the day in one piece.

Anything she wanted.

Anything but leaving him.

Which was why he felt no shame when he outright delayed her only way out. 

“That Okumura boy was the old Paladin’s son, Of course he got to take the exam early, Paladin pulled some strings or whatever.”

“So what? You’re an Arc Knight, Right? Why can’t you do the same?”

“Yeah, I am an Arc Knight, Not The Paladin. Listen, If I could I’d get you into that exam as quickly as that but I’m unable to do anything here.”

“Then I’ll go ask Arthur-”

“Arthur won’t let you go do it either, You know him.. He barely thinks you should be allowed on missions in the first place.”

“...”

“Hey, Come on, Kid. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I.. I just want to be able to do well and assist everyone else out on missions. I don’t want to be a burden to you, Lew’..”

“You’re not a burden, Kid.. I mean, Who else would do all my paperwork?”

“Hey! Lewin, Stop that!”

“Oh.. Using my full name? Guess I’m in trouble.”

“Ugh.. I hate you..!”

Lewin laughed, If only she knew.

“Come on. There’s a movie coming on at ten, Seen the posters in theatres but never got around to watching it. Seems interesting though, Let’s go watch it.”

“Ugh.. Knowing you? It’s gonna be trash.”

“Aw, Come on! Don’t be like that, You don’t even know what movie I’m talking about!”

“Don’t need to know, I can already tell.”

“No need to be so pessimistic, Eh?”

Of course, This was only a temporary solution. Lewin knew that one day she’d be able to take the exam and there was no excuse he could give to stop her. He knew that it would come, And Lewin would cross that bridge when he got there.

But right now? This was fine.

Everything was absolutely fine.

[mac-n-cheese-flavored-arson]

There are a lot of reasons that aba therapy is abusive and ineffective but one of the big ones is that instead of redirecting actually harmful dangerous behaviours while filling the need that they're filling, autistic people are just abused until we can mask well enough and the behaviours stop

I have two examples here, tw for autistic self injury

I used to bite myself, I did it every single day and there were years where I had a permanent bite mark on my arm, I would do it so hard and so often that it caused open wounds and then I would pick the scabs and keep biting, there were multiple times as a kid I got infections from this but I needed it to regulate my sensory issues and anxiety. I also chewed on metal or plastic constantly, sometimes choking on it, destroying my teeth, and cutting up my mouth from the sharp ends. In highschool an autistic friend introduced me to chewy necklaces and bought me one from stimtastic and being able to redirect my biting towards things meant to bite ended me biting myself or chewing on dangerous things almost immediately

My younger brother also used to hit his head against the wall and there was once that he gave himself a concussion from doing it too hard for too long, and bruises and knots were extremely common. My parents assumed it was tantrums and punished him until he stopped and he started having daily meltdowns instead because he was severely unregulated. My grandma started filling up a two liter soda bottle with water and giving that to him every time he was hitting his head against the wall until he started asking for the two liter instead! No more injuries, no more pain, and no more daily meltdowns! Eventually he was able to redirect this to banging his head against his bed which was even safer while filling the same sensory need

We needed to be taught not to do our original stims, repeated open wounds and infections and repeated head injuries was genuinely something that couldn't continue forever, and replacing those stims with things that were physically safe was the best possible outcome for that situation! But in aba therapy, both of the safer stims we started doing would still be punished and we'd still be abused for them just because they're weird or not socially acceptable.

Aba therapy is meant to make autistics appear nuerotypical but it's not actually meant to help us regulate sensory issues or cope with things that are distressing, sometimes redirecting autistic behaviours is absolutely necessary but punishing a behaviour that's meeting a need without allowing an alternative doesn't work

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

Calling plastic pollution one of the world’s most pressing environmental problems, the Biden administration on Friday said that the federal government, the biggest buyer of consumer goods in the world, would phase out purchases of single-use plastics.

The administration also said it planned tougher regulations on plastic manufacturing, which releases planet-warming greenhouse gases and other dangerous pollutants.

The efforts, which the White House called the first comprehensive strategy to tackle plastic use nationwide, aim to reduce demand for disposable plastic items while also helping to create a market for substitutes that are reusable, compostable or more easily recyclable.

Brenda Mallory, who heads the White House Council on Environmental Quality, said in a statement that the changes would “require unprecedented action at every stage of the plastic life cycle.” Because of its purchasing power, the White House added, “the federal government has the potential to significantly impact the supply of these products.”

The emphasis on curbing plastic use mirrors a growing recognition that the world can’t recycle or manage its way out of a deluge of plastic waste. Global plastic production rose nearly 230-fold between 1950 and 2019, to more than 400 million tons a year, and is expected to quadruple from current levels by 2050. An estimated 40 percent of that is single-use plastic, which makes up the bulk of the world’s plastic waste.

Around the world, the equivalent of one garbage truck of plastic enters the ocean every minute, experts estimate. And as those materials break down in the environment, microplastics are turning up in the stomachs of fish, birds and other animals, as well as in human blood and tissue.

[reasonsforhope]

"Litter on European beaches from the Baltic to the Aegean is falling, according to a new report.

If you’ve ever rented in Europe, or you’re a European and you live there, there’s a good chance you’ve had to comply with the strict waste control standards that require you to separate trash into several categories.

If that’s the case, and if it’s a pain in the neck sometimes, well crack a smile, because the hard work is paying off in one of the best, perfectly-tangible ways: how much trash is on European beaches.

In its latest EU Coastline Macro Litter Trend report, the Joint Research Center of the European Union has found that between 2015 and 2021 total beach litter has fallen 30%, with the biggest reductions seen in single-use plastic items (40%). The density was measured in pieces per 100 meters.

Pictured: Infographic via the JCR at the European Commission. Zoom or open image in new tab for better quality.

Fisheries-related items decreased by 20% as were plastic bags. The beaches that improved the most were concentrated around the Baltic Sea (45%) while the despite the enormity of the Mediterranean, it too experienced a dramatic decline (38%).

The report gathered data on macro marine litter trends across 253 beaches, and was pursuant to tracking the EU Zero Pollution Action Plan’s Target 5a, which aims to reduce plastic litter at sea by 50% by 2030.

That target would be well on the way to being met, if the report is accurate. Mediterranean beaches are subject to some of the highest densities of beach goers anywhere in the world, and for the improvement to be so dramatic, with 150 fewer pieces of litter found on average across every 100 meters of sand or stones, is a testament to more than just tight regulations."

-via Good News Network, May 7, 2025

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 7 - Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

Coping with the new development of wings, Y/N must hide her secret from the Winchesters, but the veil falls during training when things get heated with Dean.

(2.2k)

TW: This chapter has to do with binding wings that may be viewed as similar to chest binding. If you practice chest binding, please do so safely my friends. <3

Call (1 - 866 - 488 - 7386) or visit TheTrevorProject.org for more resources.

“Disgusting.” I mutter under my breath, gazing at my back, topless in the mirror. 

The little protrusions between my shoulder blades have doubled in size since the morning light just hours ago. Reaching nearly 6 inches in length, they adorn sporadic white feathers with a golden glamor sprouting from the bone. They look frail and weak, like the feathers of a baby bird, but without a doubt, they were undeniably the early stages of wing growth. 

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I'm unable to control the rush of emotions, frustration, sadness, disgust tearing me apart from the inside out. 

This is wrong. This is all so wrong! Why me? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS!

My thoughts run a thousand miles per hour, clattering around in my brain. However, the sound of knocking on the bathroom door quickly pulls me out of my head. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Sam’s sweet muffled voice comes through the other side of the door.

“Yeah, uh, just a minute,” I reply in a panicked tone, picking up my flannel from the floor and wrapping it around my body. Unsurprisingly, the flannel did little to disguise the problem,  the fabric stretching and poking out awkwardly around the appendages. 

Great. The last thing I need right now is the Winchesters to see the freak show that is my newly sprouted wings.

“Dean and I wanna talk to you when you have a minute.”

“Sure thing!” I put on a fake chirpy voice, immediately cringing at how fake it sounds. I can practically feel Sam purse his lips and furrow his brow in reaction to my odd tone on the other side of the door.

“Right,” Sam clears his throat. His footsteps fade in the distance as he walks away. 

I let out a sigh of relief that doesn’t last long as I remember the problem at hand. There must be something in this bathroom I can use to conceal my little problem. I stumble over to the white cabinet on the wall that hangs just above the sink and fling the door open. The cabinet is practically barren with the exception of a half empty bottle of over the counter pain medication and a small plastic container with the words, FIRST AID, scribbled on it in sharpie. 

“Of course.” I say through gritted teeth, swiping the kit and slamming the cabinet shut. The flimsy white plastic cracks open under my touch, the contents spilling on the floor with a clatter. I drop to my knees, paying little mind to the bruise that will likely form from the impact, and rummage through the supplies around me. Gause, scissors, bandaids, needle, thread, and, “Hah!” I proudly exclaim as I grab the medical wrap from the pile.

Pushing myself up onto my feet and in front of the bathroom mirror, I unravel the tape and begin wrapping it around my wings. I struggle as they resist and flutter against the fabric. If they would just hold still, the process would go alot faster, and time is certainly of the essence. I bite my lip, swallowing down the pain from my sensitive wings crunching under the tape, painfully immobilized. After several wraps, I was finally satisfied and tore off the end of the bandage with my teeth, tucking it securely away. Although it wasn’t perfect, they were successfully binded flat against my back.

I pull my flannel back on, buttoning it all the way up and turn to the side to admire my work in the mirror. It’s still rather lumpy in the back, but not very noticeable unless you really squint.

I take a deep breath, regulating my emotions, wiping away the tears, and putting on my best poker face. I exit the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

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

Sam and Dean sit in the library, each lost in their own worlds.

 Sam, lounging in a chair, thumbing through the pages of an old biblical book. 

Dean sits on the table, a leg resting on the arm of Sam's chair as he repeatedly sharpens a long silver blade.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, grabbing their attention. I fold my hands behind my back, slowly rocking back and forth from the pads to the heels of my feet, trying to calm my nerves.

“Well, we’ve been talking it over and we think it’s best to give you some training. You need to be prepared for what’s to come.” Sam gives a reassuring smile.

“Kick the devil's ass and send him back to his maker,” Dean chuckles, playfully pointing the blade in my direction.

“Oh.” I scratch the back of my neck, conflicted at the idea of assassinating the man I have developed mixed feelings for, but also excited to learn some self defense. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, Sammy here can teach you how to exorcize demons. You can bet your ass there will be dozens guarding Lucifer. And me? I’m gonna teach you how to gank that feathery son of a bitch.” He turns the blade in his hand and plunges it into the wood of the table. It wobbles slightly before falling perfectly still.

“Okay...” Is all I can say as I struggle to process the information. 

I have no problem with exorcizing demons, the less that crawls this earth, the better. But Lucifer? Sure, I hate his guts for completely uprooting my life and turning me into some hybrid angel freak, but do I really want him dead?

The brothers give me an odd look, clearly expecting a different kind of response.

“So, where do we start?” I smile, trying to save the awkward interaction.

“I figure we start with some simple exorcism incantations.” Sam jumps up from his seat, rummaging in his jeans pocket for a folded piece of scrap paper. “This is your study guide.” He hands the slip to me.

I unfold it and written in neat handwriting is a series of Latin words. Beneath each word is the phonetic pronunciation, which is quite helpful considering I don’t know the first thing about reading Latin. I stare at the hefty paragraph, feeling rather intimidated.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna help you,” he reassures me.

I give him a polite nod and a quick smile, trying my best to stow away my doubt.

“Repeat after me, Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he says, slow and clear, making sure to over pronounce each syllable. 

“Exorcizamu… Exorcizamus te omnis immu… Immundus spiritus,” I repeat, butchering almost every word. I stare at the paper, replaying each word over and over in my head til it sticks. “ Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” I say with confidence, smiling at my correct pronunciation.

“Excellent!” He smiles, squeezing my arm with pride.

For nearly 2 hours, Sam and I read through the incantation over a dozen times until I have the pronunciation of every word down to a T. Although my brain feels fried, I can’t help but glow with pride at my improvement and Sam's relentless praises.

“Alright, I think you deserve a break for today, but I want you to practice this as much as you can. This is very important,” Sam says, clasping his hands together.

“You got it big guy,” I reply playfully.

 He gives me a disapproving look at the nickname, but smiles as he turns his head and walks away.

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

“Alright sweetheart, you ready for some real training?” Dean says gleefully, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Born ready,” I reply with a grin, looking around the training room he had led me to.

 The walls and floor are covered in thick black padding, the fabric worn and torn in certain places. Scattered throughout the room are half a dozen training dummies, many of them riddled with stab wounds and bullet holes. An array of weights and weapons are displayed along benches and tables in an orderly fashion.

He picks up the largest blade from the table and strolls over til he’s about a foot from in front of me. 

“This here is an angel blade.” He turns the long dagger in his hands, the light dazzling off the reflective metal. “This is the only thing that can kill an angel.” He looks me in the eyes, very serious this time.

My eyes fall from his to the angel blade in his calloused hands. Anxiety and doubt plague my mind, but I swallow down my emotions and nod in understanding.

He flips the blade with ease, passing it to me with the handle end exposed. 

I take it from his grasp, the metal still warm from his body heat. It feels heavy and powerful in my hand. I’ve carried a pocket knife with me for years in self defense, having only had to use it once when some drunk guy at a bar followed me to my car, but nothing compared to a weapon like this. 

He steps behind me and wraps his hand around mine, moving my fingers to the correct placement. “Your grip on the handle is very important.” He gives my hand a light squeeze. “These fingers need to be wrapped around one side of the handle and your thumb should be pressed against the other side,” he explains. “Grip it tight.”

I do as I'm told, feeling my grip strengthen, pleasantly surprised at the difference.

“Good,” he praises. 

I can feel his warm breath on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. He guides me to the dummy in front of us, stopping when we're all but 6 inches away.

“Now, I’m gonna teach you how to wield it, okay?” He says in a deep voice. 

“Yes, Dean,” I reply in a hushed tone. Butterflies flutter around my stomach.

He steps closer, til he’s barely an inch behind me. He wraps his warm hands around mine and I can’t help but close my eyes and relish the feeling.

“Okay, you’re gonna bring your arm back to your side, bending the elbow,” he says, pulling my arm back. 

We stay there for a minute, just savoring the moment. The tension in the room is thick, but far from unpleasant.

“Now you’re gonna use the momentum of your body to push it forward.” 

Following his directions, I force the blade forward in one swift movement.

“Straighten your elbow sweetheart,” he purrs in my ear. 

I briefly close my eyes, trying to fight the heat rising in my body, and do as he says. The sound of the blade cutting through the air breaks the silence.

“Good job,” he praises. “Okay, when you’re attacking, you’re going to want to aim right here.” He points his finger to a spot on the dummy just below the sternum, where the vital organs are most exposed.

I nod, focusing on each of his words. 

He guides my hand back, then up, just as we practiced, plunging the blade right under the rib cage until it’s buried deep inside. 

I can’t hold back the gasp that falls from my lips.

“Good, very good!” He spins me around to face him. “See you’re a natural,” he chuckles. “A little more practice with me and you’ll be a pro,” Dean winks.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” I blush with a smile.

He thoughtfully tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes flicking back and forth between my own adoring eyes and my lips.

 I can’t help but return his interest. 

He leans in close, pressing his forehead to mine. 

My heart swells, as my pulse quickens. I hold my breath, waiting for his next move.

He leans in and ever so slightly presses his lips to mine, silently asking for my permission.

I close my eyes and lean in, claiming his lips with mine. 

Our lips move together in harmony like they are made for eachother. The kiss is soft and loving, as if we are just testing the waters, and my god it just feels so right. 

I sigh with content into his mouth as he places his hand on the small of my back, pulling our bodies together. I feel lost in the moment, wishing it would never end as his hands slowly travel up further until it reaches my bandaged wings poorly disguised under my flannel. 

He pulls back slightly, now looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern.

My eyes shoot open and my breath hitches in my throat as I realize what’s happening. The euphoric high of finally kissing Dean fades and the horror of his discovery, sits in my stomach like a ball of lead.

“Wha-,” he starts to ask.

Before he can utter the word, I forcefully push him away and rush out of the room. The world becomes muddy as my eyes blur with hot tears. I run and run until I reach my quarters and throw myself into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I toss the angel blade aside, not even registering the loud clatter of metal meeting tiles and sink to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest, not even bothering to fight the sobs that rack my body.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[deathtoallbillionaires]

I’m a leftist American. My beliefs are as follows:

Kill all billionaires.

Free healthcare is a fundamental human right.

Do not allow healthcare or prison systems to be privatized.

Legalize and heavily regulate all drugs and sex work.

Implement more rehabilitative justice.

Queer rights, trans liberation, etc.

Switch to using clean energy sources

Mandate that all consumer products be produced ethically and are made to be long-lasting and high-quality. Use entirely recyclable and/or biodegradable materials.

Ban single-use plastics.

Impose strict limits on greenhouse gas emissions nation-wide.

Make AI content public domain. Training AI on the work of human creators without their consent should be considered copyright infringement. All AI content should be labelled as AI content.

Reform the education system by reducing class sizes, protecting educators, and re-implementing phonics for reading. Ban personal smart devices for students on school campuses (unless given special permission).

Make our communities walkable and aesthetically appealing.

Liberate and integrate disabled and neurodivergent people as much as possible while still giving them access to necessary resources for their condition.

The United States is fully capable of doing this. We just don’t. You can blame the ultra-wealthy for that. No more excuses.

[orangejulii]

Additional Constitutional Amendments

-Universal Healthcare -Water - waterways, lakes, and rivers cannot be owned by private entities and shall remain clean and inhabitable for all creatures -Food - Farms will remain subsidized by the government and all foreign trade related to food will not be tariffed - this food will be regulated to insure it is clean at every level of preparation -Home Owners Associations are no longer legal. The regulation of neighborhoods will be enforced by local codes only. - Timeshares can be renegotiated every 5 years giving people the opportunity to walk away from contracts -No more single use plastic and the use of plastic will be severely limited -A person's body is their own and that person is free to do what they will to it as long as it does not physically harm others (abortion is not harm) - Birth control is a human right and any person over 18 can decide to permanently sterilize themselves chemically or by the removal of reproductive organs without obstacles from their doctor or government -There will be term limits to every government office -Corporations are NOT people -Limits on how many media outlets can be owned by a single entity (you cannot create shell corporations to loop hole into owning more) -Corporations cannot own residential property and there are limits to how much property can be owned by a private citizen -Attendance of at least 90% is required for all persons employed to public office unless for medical reason -There will be an audit of the department of defense every 5 years -Social Security is a human right and cannot be taken away -a person of sound mind and no history of violence can own three guns. They can choose between a two cartridge shotgun, a hunting rifle with a maximum capacity of 15 bullets, or a handgun with a magazine not exceeding 10 rounds. There will be limits to how many bullets a person can own and it will be regulated the same way sudafed is. -abolish the electoral college -no more private for-profit prisons - all labor done by prisoners will be compensated at the same rate as the federal minimum wage and all labor is voluntary by the prisoner -felons have the power to vote -felons do not have the power to be a president/senator/congressman/judge -police departments and military cannot have funding that exceeds the funding for fire prevention, health, education, and other public works -tax payer money cannot be reallocated to private education -education is a human right -Government officials cannot take money from private entities once in office. Limits to how much money can be raised per campaign - Pharmaceuticals cannot be advertised. - Doctors in individual practices have limits on how many patients they can see per day and they have to have a one on one conversation with the patient for at least 20 minutes.

Feel free to add more. These are just all things floating around in my head and I needed to get them out. I believe our country would be a better place if we did these. It's open for discussion but I will not entertain people with straw man arguments, "whataboutism" or the easily offended. I will not engage with trash - I will block. (Also there's probably spelling or grammar errors - it was written in a stream of consciousness cathartically.)

[the-quotable-alberta-hansard]

April 14, 2025

Mr. van Dijken: Our Premier has outlined nine clear and reasonable demands for the next Prime Minister on behalf of Alberta. These demands will defend Alberta’s right to compete, to grow, and to lead. These demands are not partisan. They are practical. They include repealing the no-new-pipelines bills, lifting the B.C. tanker ban, cancelling the federal emissions cap, scrapping the clean electricity regulations, return industrial carbon tax oversight to the provinces, end the ridiculous net-zero vehicle target and the single-use plastics ban, and end the censorship of Alberta’s energy sector. At the centre of these demands are demands for respect, respect for Alberta’s constitutional authority.

[f--e-u-e-r-t-r-u-n-k-e--n]

The End of the World or the End of Capitalism?: Colletion of Notes.

>"Capitalist realism as I understand it cannot be confined to art or to the quasi-propagandistic way in which advertising functions. It is more like a pervasive atmosphere, conditioning not only the production of culture but also the regulation of work and education, and acting as a kind of invisible barrier constraining thought and action". -Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? >[Capital] has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervor, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation -Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, Manifest der Kommunistischen Partei.

>"In his Prison Notebooks, Gramsci said that in periods of crisis the old is dying and the new is not yet born. While Gramsci drew attention to the morbid symptoms of such a situation (in 1930) our crisis is different, and I want to draw attention to more hopeful symptoms (waiting to be born) of our present crisis of capitalist hegemony. The viability of initiatives trying to avoid competition with the market and escape from the hierarchic state rests on many untested assumptions. The first assumption is that those who do essential day-to-day tasks would continue to do their jobs in a PCC in preference to large corporations and their local affiliates: a multitude of people who now work in private or public sectors, directly or indirectly, establishing PCCs in their local communities producing food, organizing transport, setting up places of learning and transmission of skills, providing healthcare, running power systems, and so on. PCCs already do this all over the world on a small scale but such initiatives struggle within capitalist markets. Community-Supported Agriculture schemes in various parts of the world represent a first step on a long and difficult road to self-sufficiency in this sphere". - Leslie Sklair, The End of the World or the End of Capitalism? >"In 1869, New York neurologist George Beard used the term "neurasthenia" to describe a very broad condition caused by the exhaustion of the nervous system, which was thought to be particularly found in "civilized, intellectual communities." In 1998, Swedish psychiatrists Marie Åsberg and Åke Nygren investigated a surge of depression health insurance claims in Sweden. They found that the symptoms of many cases did not match the typical presentation of depression. Complaints like fatigue and decreased cognitive ability dominated, and many believed their working conditions to be the cause" >"The whole life of those societies in which modern conditions of production prevail presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. All that once was directly lived has become mere representation".  -Guy Debord, The Society of the Spectacle. >"Architecture is the simplest means of articulating time and space, of modulating reality, of engendering dreams. It is a matter not only of plastic articulation and modulation expressing an ephemeral beauty, but of a modulation producing influences in accordance with the eternal spectrum of human desires and the progress in realizing them. The architecture of tomorrow will be a means of modifying present conceptions of time and space. It will be a means of knowledge and a means of action." -Ivan Chtcheglov, Formulary for a New Urbanism

>"To you, this gathering is just one more boring event. The Situationist International, however, considers that while this assemblage of so many art critics as an attraction of the Brussels Fair is laughable, it is also significant.

Inasmuch as modern cultural thought has proved itself completely stagnant for over twenty-five years, and inasmuch as a whole era that has understood nothing and changed nothing is now becoming aware of its failure, its spokesmen are striving to transform their activities into institutions. They thus solicit official recognition from the completely outmoded but still materially dominant society, for which most of them have been loyal watchdogs.

The main shortcoming of modern art criticism is that it has never looked at the culture as a whole nor at the conditions of an experimental movement that is perpetually superseding it. At this point in time the increased domination of nature permits and necessitates the use of superior powers in the construction of life." -The Situationist International, Action in Belgium Against the International Assembly of Art Critics >"Karoshi (Japanese: 過労死, Hepburn: Karōshi), which can be translated into "overwork death", is a Japanese term relating to occupation-related sudden death.

The most common medical causes of karoshi deaths are heart attacks and strokes due to stress and malnourishment or fasting. Mental stress from the workplace can also cause workers to commit suicide in a phenomenon known as karōjisatsu (過労自殺)" >"The limits of capitalism are not fixed by fiat, but defined (and redefined) pragmatically and improvisationally. This makes capitalism very much like the Thing in John Carpenter's film of the same name: a monstrous, infinitely plastic entity, capable of metabolizing and absorbing anything with which it comes into contact. Capital, Deleuze and Guattari says, is a ‘motley painting of everything that ever was'; a strange hybrid of the ultra-modern and the archaic. In the years since Deleuze and Guattari wrote the two volumes of their Capitalism And Schizophrenia, it has seemed as if the deterritorializing impulses of capitalism have been confined to finance, leaving culture presided over by the forces of reterritorialization.

This malaise, the feeling that there is nothing new, is itself nothing new of course. We find ourselves at the notorious ‘end of history' trumpeted by Francis Fukuyama after the fall of the Berlin Wall. Fukuyama's thesis that history has climaxed with liberal capitalism may have been widely derided, but it is accepted, even assumed, at the level of the cultural unconscious. It should be remembered, though, that even when Fukuyama advanced it, the idea that history had reached a ‘terminal beach' was not merely triumphalist. Fukuyama warned that his radiant city would be haunted, but he thought its specters would be Nietzschean rather than Marxian. Some of Nietzsche's most prescient pages are those in which he describes the ‘oversaturation of an age with history'. ‘It leads an age into a dangerous mood of irony in regard to itself, he wrote in Untimely Meditations, ‘and subsequently into the even more dangerous mood of cynicism', in which ‘cosmopolitan fingering', a detached spectatorialism, replaces engagement and involvement. This is the condition of Nietzsche's Last Man, who has seen everything, but is decadently enfeebled precisely by this excess of (self) awareness." -Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?

>The Socialist Patients' Collective (German: Sozialistisches Patientenkollektiv, and known as the SPK) is a patients' collective founded in Heidelberg, West Germany, in February 1970, by Wolfgang Huber (born 1935). The kernel of the SPK's ideological program is summated in the slogan, "Turn illness into a weapon", which is representative of an ethos that is continually and actively practiced under the new title, Patients' Front/Socialist Patients' Collective, PF/SPK(H). The first collective, SPK, declared its self-dissolution in July 1971 as a strategic withdrawal but in 1973 Huber proclaimed the continuity of SPK as Patients' Front.

The SPK assumes that illness exists as an undeniable fact and believe that it is caused by the capitalist system. The SPK promotes illness as the protest against capitalism and considers illness as the foundation on which to create the human species. The SPK is opposed to doctors, considering them to be the ruling class of capitalism and responsible for poisoning the human species. The most widely recognized text of the PF/SPK(H) is the communique, SPK – Turn illness into a weapon, which has prefaces by both the founder of the SPK, Wolfgang Huber, and Jean-Paul Sartre. Rejecting the roles and ideology associated with the notion of the revolutionary as scientific explainer, they stated in Turn Illness into a Weapon that whoever claims they want to "observe the bare facts dispassionately" is either an "idiot" or a "dangerous criminal."