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risetvusa · 2 years

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The Big Oil Industrial Complex: How Oil is Damaging us As Plastic?

Big Oil Industrial Complex | Rise.TV

Big Oil Industrial Complex is the collective list of six or seven largest publicly listed and investor-owned oil and gas firms in the world. In the United States, they are often referred to by this name because of their political and economic clout. There is some disagreement on which firms now make up Big Oil Complex, however, Total Energies, ExxonMobil, BP, Chevron Shell, and Eni are all named regularly super majors in The Big Oil Industrial Complex.

But are you familiar with the marketing conspiracy behind the Big Oil Industrial Complex? Did you know it is vaster than your imagination? Here in this blog, we will guide you thoroughly about how the Big Oil Industrial Complex is using oil to make plastic, which is one of the biggest enemies of human health on the planet right now.

Did you know oil has been used to make plastic?

Many scenarios utilize the oil industry's own records to support their assertions that the company hides the rising danger posed by its own products.

Below are some surprising facts about the oil industry:

Plastic is made from 8 to 10 percent of the world's oil supply.

It is estimated that annually 12 million barrels of oil are needed to produce plastic bags in the United States.

Each week, the typical American trashes around 10 bags without recycling them. That means they use 520 bags per year, which is equivalent to fuel for 60 miles of driving.

Why was plastic really pushed on the public?

A worldwide energy revolution is now underway. Oil companies are concerned because more affordable renewable energy and electric vehicles lead to a cleaner and safer system. That’s why, The Big Oil Industrial Complex is looking forward to Petrochemicals, and plastics in particular, as the next big thing for growing their business.

According to the International Energy Agency, by mid-century, plastics generated from fossil fuels would account for more than half of the increase in oil demand worldwide. The United States is a significant provider of plastic polymers and competes with oil-rich Middle Eastern nations like Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Qatar.

Through 2050, the demand for petrochemicals, which are used to make plastic, is anticipated to rise by almost 10 million metric tonnes every year.

How are we choking on plastic?

Despite the convenience of plastic, our reliance on plastic goods has had detrimental repercussions on our environment, society, and health.

Below are the detrimental facts about plastic that will make you shocked:

The amount of plastic production globally has doubled during the past 50 years

Edible things like chewing gum contain plastic

The global use of plastic bags is staggering, at 2 million each minute

The recycling rate for overall produced plastics is only 9%

Every single minute, a truckload of plastic is poured into the ocean

By 2050, 99% of seabirds and animals will be relying on plastic

Approximately one million plastic bottles are purchased every minute

95% of plastic pollution in the oceans is carried by 10 rivers of the World

Plastic contributes to 73% of beach garbage worldwide

An average human eats 70,000 microplastics each year

By 2050, the ocean may contain more plastic than fish

Fortunately, we can solve the plastic problem in the simplest way, by reducing its use. Reducing plastic consumption, especially single-use plastic, is an important step in improving our treatment of the environment. In order to create healthy surroundings for everyone, it is necessary to recycle plastic and minimize its usage.

You might be thinking, why is plastic being pushed as the best way to prevent climate change, when plastic is actually a huge contributor to the environmental problem? And why celebrities refuge to eat out of plastic containers?

To get answers of all your queries, watch our complete video series “The Big Oil Industrial Complex” on the platform of Edge of Wonder at Rise TV.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Time (D)rift 5

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, blood, violence, animal death, suicidal and self harming thoughts, and possible other triggers. Warnings may not be explicit or exhaustive.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own. (Apocalypse AU)

Sister series to Edge of Time

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Thank you for your patience on this part and everything else. I’m tryna chip away at existing wips and I think I’m going decently thus far.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Bucky puts half a slice of cold toast in front of you as he stands. He slides over the glass of water, about a mouthful left from his intent feast. You haven’t said a word. You just stare at the table and listen, the smell of the devoured eggs and bacon makes your stomach scream. He taps his fingers on the metal in front of you.

“Eat.”

You don’t hesitate. You can’t help but cram most of it in your mouth, the days of walking, of fighting through the snow, of searching for any sort of food has you greedy. You gobble down the toast so quickly, you hardly taste it.

You swallow and drink the last of the water, thirsty as it hardly moistens your parched throat. You let out a breath, barely able to take in air through your starved feast. Your gut squeezes, you want more. All that did was stoke the hunger to a painful pique.

Suddenly, there’s a vice around your throat. Fingers of flesh and metal squeeze and the chair overturns as you’re dragged from the seat. Your legs flail as you grasp at the hold around your neck, wheezing helplessly as Bucky shakes you like a doll.

“Kitten, you know how this world works. You don’t want the Row, well you got me,” he snarls as you plant your feet.

He spins you so your chest hits the wall and you brace it with a grunt. He crushes your face against it, his metal hand staying at your throat as his other stretches across your skull. He nuzzles your hair and exhales into your scalp.

“If I hadn’t walked in, what would you have said?” He snarls.

“What–”

“Don’t play stupid,” he pushes you along the wall, turning you at the corner until you’re stood beside the chocolate, still pinned with the knife, “were you going to take it?”

“N-no,” you sputter, “Bucky, please–”

“Sergeant,” he corrects as his hand slides around the back of your neck, holding you flush to the wall as he reaches to dislodge the knife. The foiled bar falls to the floor as he brings the blade along the back of the cotton tee, “you best learn your manners, little girl.”

“Sergeant,” you gasp, fingers pressed to the wall as you quiver, “I told him no. I would’ve told him again…” you feel the knife through the fabric and wince, “I promise—”

“You want that,” he kicks the chocolate with his toe, “you gotta earn it. That’s how Parker’s gifts work. So tell me now, you want me to take you down to the Row so he can pimp you out for coffee?”

“No, no, B- Sergeant, no, I…” you gulp. You don’t have much choice, the lesser of two evils isn’t better. “I want to stay,” you close your eyes, “with you.”

He laughs and pulls you away from the wall, “you want to? Kitty, you don’t know what to want. There’s nothing left to want, only need. You need me. You need me because I can keep creeps like Parker away. You need me…” he grasps your hip, his metal fingers still curved around your throat as he guides you away from the wall, “to break you. To teach you how to survive.”

He walks you to the table, kicking the chair away as he pushes you against the edge. Your hips hit it painfully as he forces you to bend. He slips his hand down your side and spreads his fingers over your ass.

“Don’t you, kitten?”

“I’m sorry. I told him to go–”

“We’re past that,” he growls, “tell me. Tell me how much you need me.”

You grit your teeth as he gropes you, fingers digging painfully into your ass. You whimper and slap the table. There is no right with this man, whatever you do, he’ll find a reason to punish you.

“Tell me!” He pulls his hand back and spanks you.

“Please–”

“Say it. How fucking hard is it–” he slaps you again, “should I switch hands,” his vibranium fingers curl into your neck, “kitten?”

“I…” you inhale sharply, “I need you,” you puff through the stinging pain, “sergeant.”

“Damn,” another strike, “right,” another, “you fucking do.”

He smacks you one last time, keeping his hand against your ass as your legs tremble. Your cheek sticks to the table as you remain, prone, paralysed beneath his grasp. His fingers tickle the bottom of your ass and he traces along the crease as he lets out a low rumble.

“Nah, I wanna feel it,” he hisses, “oh, kitten,” he drawls as he brushes along your folds, delving between them with two fingertips, “and I feel how much you mean it.”

You quiver as he teases you with his touch, your walls clenching as he dances around your entrance. He prods at you, pushing a thick digit into your dry cunt. You whimper at his intrusion, unready and unwanted. He pokes around, sliding back to line up a second finger, forcing his way back in and curling his knuckles.

The horror lumps in your throat as you hide behind your eyelids, blocking out the room in hopes you might do the same to the man. You spread your hands across the metal table, shaking as he rocks his hand. You let out a pained grunt as your walls squeeze him, trying to stop him.

He rams his hand in hard so his knuckles send a pang through your pelvis. You exclaim and bite the tip of your tongue. You feel his frustration as his motion picks up. You hiss and hit the table, the hot burn radiating through you.

“You think you can make it without me?” He snarls and rips his fingers out, scratching along your thigh as he does. He spanks you again and your hips rattle, your legs vibrating in agony, “what the fuck are you doing?” He kneads your flesh cruelly, “playing hard to get?”

“Please–”

“Shhhh,” he stretches his hand out and caresses your ass, “I didn’t say you could speak.”

You clamp your lips shut as he tickles you, tracing the curve of your thigh. He pushes his foot between yours and kicks your legs wide. You suck in air and shake, waiting for him. You know what comes next. Your eyes prick as you try not to think.

He leans into you, wiggling against you as he groans. His hands walk up your legs and around your hips. He grips your waist and bends over you.

“No treats for you, kitten.”

He pulls his hands back and slaps your ass. You wince and let out a pathetic noise.

He parts and you don’t dare move away from the table. He strides around behind you as you watch from the corner of your eye. He bends to pick up the chocolate and unwraps the foil, tearing through it loudly. He breaks off a piece and pops it in his mouth.

“Mmm, sweet with a hint of bitterness,” he remarks, “kinda like you.”

You gulp, staying as you are. He tuts as he comes close, snapping off another square.

“Get up,” he orders, “tidy this place up. I don’t like a mess.”

❄️

Bucky leaves you again. This time without explanation. You’re confined to the main room and the bathroom, the bedroom locked along with the hidden compartment that houses his numerous firearms and blades. You got a glimpse of a few as he took a long knife before he departed.

You sit, listless, nothing to do. Left alone with your thoughts. At least at the settlement, you had work to keep you busy, to keep you distracted from the dire circumstance. You just want it to be over. It should’ve ended years ago.

Why did you make it this far? Why did you fight to survive so long? Why did you remain even when you didn’t fight?

There’s nothing left for you. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain. No escape, other than the end. You could bash your own head in or strangle yourself with your shirt. It’s not impossible but it’s not easy. You don’t want to lose your nerve before you can finish the job.

You pace, flop on the sofa, shuffle through a drawer with playing cards and some old gum wrappers. You take the deck and sit at the table, laying out a game of solitaire to keep from going mad. The soft rhythm of your counting tugs at a thread in your mind.

“Your deal,” Kye claps the deck down in front of you, “no cheating this time.”

“I don’t cheat,” you scoff as you snatch up the stack and shuffle, “you just don’t win.”

“Ha, sure,” she rolls her eyes and glances over, her face falling as she looks darkly out over the depths. The floods nearly meet the twentieth story and each day you talk of moving to the roof. “Is this how it’s supposed to be? Waiting out the end with Go Fish?”

“Well, we could try something more exciting. Poker? Gin?”

“Simple,” she utters as she draws back, looking glumly at the folded cardboard while you deal, “simple is easy.”

“It can’t last forever,” you say as you put the remaining cards in the middle, “the drought didn’t.”

“No, it only brought on this shit,” she sneers as she picks up her cards, “I don’t expect whatever’s next is any better.”

“Hm, maybe.”

The door shuts and draws you from the past. The dingy smell of water fades away and you’re back in the bright white room at the sterile metal table. You glance over as Bucky stomps in. You lay your hands flat, as much startled by his return as your detour into memory.

“Oh, we playing a game?” He wonders as he shuts the door, the mechanism whirring before it beeps.

“Solitaire,” you reply and gather up the cards into the single deck, “sorry, I–”

“Stay,” he snaps his fingers as he nears. You peek at the sheath on his belt, the thick handle of the knife that has a loop for each finger to fit into. He sits and rolls his shoulders, “I heard you like poker.”

You stare at him blankly. How much exactly did he know about you?

“I know how to play.”

“So, you have a gambling problem before this or…”

“Before? Does it matter.”

“I don’t know, figure the end of the world’s a good way to go off cold turkey,” he taps the table, “deal.”

You nod and shuffle. He trails his vibranium fingers against the metal, an odd hum from the friction.

“I’ve seen it before. When this all started, when we were still trying ‘end the crisis’,” he says dryly, “there were the alcoholics, jittering, scratching like they had bugs all over. The longer it went on, the easier it was to… well.”

You count out the card and swallow tightly. You finish and put down the cards, a flash of deja vu warps your perception at the familiar action. You pull your hand back and peek at your cards.

“You must’ve been a sweet thing back then, not so grim,” he says as he picks up his cards, sucking his teeth, “you have a boyfriend? How far did he get?”

You flick the corner of a card, “nope. Just an ex.”

“Aw, baby, does it still sting?”

You glance up at him and squint, “fold.”

You drop the cards, showing your useless hand. Like everything with him, you’ve lost.

“Boo,” he reveals his straight, “not much fun without a prize.”

“Guess not,” you cross your arms.

“So, let’s make a bet.”

“I don’t have anything—”

“Ah, you have more than you know. Here’s the deal. You win, I’ll make you cum. I win, you make me cum.”

You clear your throat. He’s crass but it’s not anything worse than the guards at the settlement. You rub your lips together. You can’t refuse because it’s not truly a question. You take the cards and shuffle again.

Five cards each, just like the last time. You lean back as you peruse your cards. Full house. Decent hand, but you lose either way.

“So,” he mixes up his cards, “here’s how it works, I’ll bet a handjob. You call?”

You grit your teeth and nod, “call.”

“Back to me… I’ll raise it. You want a taste, kitten?”

You look at your cards again. You know what you have but you don’t want him to see your discomfort. You tilt your head thoughtfully, trying to seem genuine. You’ve never had much of a poker face.

“Alright, call.”

“Right, let me see ‘em,” he tosses down his hand, revealing a royal flush.

You reluctantly lay out your cards, “full house. I lose.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a big loss,” he plants his feet and pushes his chair back, spreading his legs wide as he unbuttons his pants, “winner, winner…”

You tamp down your disgust and stand. As you come around the table, he pulls his dick above his fly and strokes himself. He looks up at you with a grin, “take it off.”

You stop and curl your fingers around the hem of the shirt. You peel it off over your head and drop it to the floor. You move in front of him as he stretches his hands across his thighs, his dick bobbing before him. You lower yourself to your knees and take a breath through your nose.

Your hand shakes as you reach for him, gripping him tightly as you wet your lips. You move closer, between his knees as you bend your head. His fingers press into the fabric of his jeans and his breath gristles. Your eyes flick over, the end of his knife handle glinting silver along the edge of your vision.

You lick his tip and he tenses. You exhale and swipe your tongue around his tip again. You dip your head further and circle your lips around him, slowly taking him in an inch at a time. As you do, he hums, drawing it out, louder and louder the deeper you take him.

You ease up and his hand crawls along your shoulder, squeezing as he urges you on. You force yourself back down, bobbing as you slicken him with your spit. He groans, breath staggered as you keep a steady motion. As you open your throat around him, he grunts and grasps the back of your head, pushing you to your limit.

You gag and kick your feet, unable to breathe as he holds you down. Your clasp onto the tail of his shirt and flutter your lashes. He lets you up but you keep your mouth around him. You move up and down his length, the wet noise twisting in your gut.

Your eyes wander over again and you focus on the ridge knife grip. Spit smears around your mouth, dribbling to your chin as you struggle to take all of him, over and over until your throat is raw. He grips your head between his strong hands as he pants.

“Oh, kitten, you’re sucking me so good, I think you really won, didn’t you?” He slips a hand around your neck and feels himself bulging in your throat, “yeah, ugh, I’m gonna give you the best prize. You gonna drink it up, ain’t ya?

You hum around him. He puffs out and the chair scrapes as he sets his feet, bracing for his climax as it builds. You work him faster, dragging your tongue along his dick as you feel the pulsing pressure. Your hand slides over his thigh slowly, closer and closer.

He grunts and shoves you down as his hips twitch and he cums, rocking to completion as he holds you in place. You struggle not to wretch as a salty sliminess coats your throat.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it,” he rasps as his hands fall away from you, “oh, kitten, that was–”

You pop your mouth off of him and gulp up air as you swallow his cum. He winces and chuckles as he watches you wheeze. You grasp the handle of his knife and yank, the snap breaking open as you pull free the blade. You fall back and aim the blade at your thigh. With any luck, you’ll catch the artery.

The blade glances off his boot as he kicks it out of your hand, another quick strike with his foot to your chest. You fly back as the knife clatters away from you. You land flat and gasp as it knocks the air out of your chest.

“Shit!” He snarls as he stands over you, pinning you down with his sole on your stomach, “you stupid little bitch.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barners #bucky barnes x reader #fic #time (d)rift #apocalypse au #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #winter soldier #captain america #edge of time #sequel

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