#self-pollution

[jmuejij1vcqnh]

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[ratective]

80s gems winter in eastern europe edition

[nando161mando]

Capitalism is not sustainable…

[vedder99]

"Catholic Boy," Jan. 8, 1995

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Catalysis breakthrough yields self-cleaning wall paint that breaks down air pollutants when exposed to sunlight

Typically, beautiful white wall paint does not stay beautiful and white forever. Often, substances from the air accumulate on its surface. This can be a desired effect because it makes the air cleaner for a while—but over time, the color changes and needs to be renewed. A research team from TU Wien and the Università Politecnica delle Marche (Italy) has now succeeded in developing special titanium oxide nanoparticles that can be added to ordinary, commercially available wall paint to establish self-cleaning power: The nanoparticles are photocatalytically active, they can use sunlight not only to bind substances from the air, but also to decompose them afterwards. The wall makes the air cleaner—and cleans itself at the same time. Waste was used as the raw material for the new wall paint: metal scrap, which would otherwise have to be discarded, and dried fallen leaves. The study is published in ACS Catalysis.

Read more.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Crowbar - Holding Nothing

[slicedblackolives]

btw it took 4h35 min for my asthma meds jitters/anxiety/palpitations to stop. if you're wondering how i'm doing

[photo-art-lady]

'Fishing Plastic' - Fine Art Photography Self Portrait By Anya Anti

[mcrololo]

I'm replaying horizon zero dawn and something just hits different about the game now that I have more life experience and go through life a little bit more consciously. Aloy not being born from a loving mother, causing her to be an outcast by her own tribe (the Nora) who believe in Mother Earth as their one true Mother, truly no longer can be outrun as something incredibly and profoundly painful when you, yourself, have realized you never truly were loved by a mother figure in your life.

And then the quest you get in the hunters lodge, where you meet Talanah, and Aloy bonds with her and tells her she somewhat understands being treaten like trash. The lines "Now everywhere I go I am Aloy of the Nora. It should be Aloy despite the Nora" runs deep, because not only does she acknowledge that she has lived through all the pain, but she also decides to rise above all that by traveling the world and helping others wherever she goes. Despite what the Nora have put her through, despite being shunned and never getting a helping hand herself, despite not knowing who she is... She is Aloy, at the end of every damning day. And that's all there is to it.

[drowsyscatterbrain]

what if...

what if i wanna yoink moon to a light-pollution free flower field at night. make em cover their eyes and all.

and when we're there, tell em to look up and uncover their eyes, how would he react to the vast sea of stars?

[dungeonaspects]

Short Story: Cannibalism

The deer population had plummeted in the last six years. So much so that conservation groups had begun a large-scale tagging operation, affixing GPS trackers to the dwindling numbers of white-tailed deer that remained in the forests. Being one of the many capable trackers I’d been sent deep into the forests to check on a location that a lot of deer with GPS trackers seemed to be congregating and either getting stuck or dying.

The working theory was a tainted water source, a legacy of migration routes etched into generational memory, or perhaps a newly opened fissure leaking noxious gas. Ultimately it didn’t matter, it was impacting the food chain and wildlife officials were getting nervous

I’m a hunter subcontracted into these projects, while the big bosses can wax whimsical about their stats and environmental benefits it doesn’t change the fact: I needed a job. So instead of taking tourists on the same hike over and over, or babysitting some kids calling themselves men while they missed every shot at local wildlife. I embraced the solitude of the wild, armed with a GPS, ample supplies, and the liberty to roam the untamed expanses on behalf of those corporate suits.

Don’t get me wrong, I love forests. You don’t spend as much time as I do within them without loving them like a sailor does the sea. You also learn to respect nature for what it is, a hell of a lot sturdier than those idiots in suits give it credit for.

So even if the numbers can drop and species can die out, nature can stand up for itself. Once our towns and cities crumble, nature will simply need to reclaim it. So why worry the little stuff? It’ll survive a long time after we’re gone.

I used to so fervently believe this, like we couldn’t do anything to truly hurt nature. I was wrong.

…

Three weeks into my journey, deposited by helicopter at a serene lake, I traced ancient paths not trodden for a century, likely the same routes indigenous peoples followed before being forced away.

I was one of the few that could go this deep into wild territory without being dead within a week. Grizzly’s, wolves, moose, even cougars paled in comparison to the simple act of getting lost. I didn’t get lost. I held to old-school orienteering and kept meticulous track of where I was and where I’d been, I could use the stars if I had to.

A GPS helps, and I wouldn’t be caught dead without one, but knowing my route and my way back was worth more than a piece of plastic that could break or run out of power or lose signal. So I kept moving.

I was only an hour or so from the location of the tagged deer. The views had been stunning, my side gig as a nature photographer making sure I’ll have more than a few images and videos to sell to Instagrammers or TikTokkers that wouldn’t survive a two hour hike, much less this kind of trek.

I’d been moving lower into a valley for the last two days, picking through trees and trails that kept me moving in the right direction. Hunting had been… scarce the last few days. Normally I’d be able to spot something to skin and butcher every few days, working opportunistically where I could. But I hadn’t seen anything for so long I was actually using my food supplies rather than wasting too much time foraging.

Then again, if there was a poisoned water source nearby it’d hardly be a surprise that animals were steering clear. It was good I had filled up my canteens at the last stream I’d found, may be worth avoiding drinking any water in this valley. Especially looking around.

The normally dense trees had thinned, the underbrush becoming little more than strangling weeds and the occasional sickly looking bush. I won’t be so prideful as to say I wasn’t a bit nervous, what had been a spattering of bark on the ground had turned into a rotting bed, insects writhing over and in the detritus that reeked beneath my feet.

Whatever was in this valley was making it seriously sick.

I double and triple checked my location, referencing the GPS a few times for reassurance. I wasn’t looking forward to whatever runoff or dump some corporation had likely airdropped randomly into the wilderness to poison the land so intensely.

I put on a facemask and gloves, it wasn’t the first time some big wig cut a corner to avoid proper disposal costs. I was coming to a cliff face, the valley coming to a singular point in the base of a mountain.

I hopped over a handful of streams clogged with… I’ll describe it as fibrous sludge, lumps of solid matter that was sodden and sickly, like a hairball the size of your fist left in a puddle for weeks. The smell was overpowering.

I didn’t see any leaves on the trees anymore, branches crumbling in writhing piles that practically turned to dust under my boots, the sodden ground somehow cracked and packed as clods of mud weighed me down.

The sky was… colourless. It felt like it should be clear and blue, there weren’t any clouds above, and the sun hadn’t rounded the mountain or the horizon. It wasn’t even grey, just, empty.

Trudging on, the rotting trees had fallen in stagnant water, the cloying ‘hairballs’ were everywhere, covering the sides of trees from the direction I was heading. It was as if a wave of putrid filth had crashed outwards, covering everything in the muck that coated my boots.

A thin trickle of water was flowing over some of the furrowed parts of ground, once pristine streams just vehicles of miasma as it spread through the valley. I can’t describe what I mean when I say that there was no colour in that place. I could look at that sickly mud and understand it was brown or sallow green, but those words meant… nothing. A void where colour should have been.

Ahead I could hear water slapping from high above into a meagre plunge pool, the source of the water at least. It was… hard to see there. It was bright, it was daytime but I couldn’t see.

I stood there, on the edge of this putrid pool of water, in knee high stagnant mud, looking at a… It looked like a massive sickly tree, a trickling waterfall from high above falling upon it. Once white branches were stained with rotting algae and moss that clung to it like a mass of dripping leeches. The highest of the branches so very far above my head ending in jagged points that oozed an ichor that plopped into the water like excrement.

I… I don’t know how long I stood there. I had no way to tell the time, no way to look away from the tree. Until a white-tailed deer stepped into the clearing. It was like stepping from darkest midnight into midday sun.

Its presence made me stumble back, tripping into the disgusting filth around me. The deer seemed wholly unbothered by the mud and rot that clung to its hooves and matted its fur. It simply kept walking toward the tree.

I felt a primal panic build in me, I don’t know why but the deer shouldn’t go near the tree. If it did… I can’t explain how wrong it felt, how desecrated, how violated that clearing was. Yet I couldn’t even cry out as the deer began to sink and wade through the loathsome mud to where the tree sat.

The deer was up to its neck in the water when it stopped, the colour and brilliance submerged beyond recognition. It gazed upward, fixated on the tree, its breaths laboured and heavy.

There was only a moment’s pause, a single fraction of a lifetime before the tree began to rear from the mud. Slowly it rose, the sound of cracking limbs and shuddering movements shaking detritus from the jagged boughs above, each piece resolving into a rotting corpse of an animal that had been impaled upon it.

A wave of putrefaction burst outward, the mud rushing by so that it pushed me away, my head dipping into that foetid abyss. When the wave subsided, and I clutched to a crumbling tree stump to drag myself from the sucking sod, I wiped my eyes clean and gasped for air as I tore my facemask off.

From the squalor it stood, wretched hide clinging to a skeletal frame that oozed from weeping pustules, its neck was sinuous and muscles seemed to cling to it, the tendons working to bend the sweeping head that peered down at the trembling deer before it.

Catlike, lidless eyes stared out, narrowing the slitted pupil to focus on this single spec of colour in all this empty void. A long jaw tore open, receding far back from where its face should have ended and down its throat, the lower mandible barely held in place by straining sinew. A deer’s skull distended its jaw, hot breath roiling out in wisps of decay.

From the maw a slithering tongue extended, it was long and rounded, ending in a singular point, like a worm probing through the dirt. Softly it caressed the deer before it, slipping around it almost tenderly as the small creature went limp.

The being before me didn’t pause as it scooped up the body and bit through flesh and bone, blood joining the filth around it. The sound of that creature chewing apart that deer fills my mind, in every silent moment I hear it, slowly… chewing.

I was frozen. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t act. I was stuck there for an eternity as it consumed.

Then I was knocked down, another deer strode past me, hooves laden with mud as it moved towards the skeletal creature, the unknowable deer that now watched as so many others of its kind approached. I don’t know how many creatures offered themselves to it, how many I saw devoured in a ceaseless parade of sacrifice and slaughter.

I was exhausted, splattering of blood and gore flowed by, until there was no more blood to spill. It was only then, at the end of its visceral feast did it look at me. Slitted eyes focussing on some part within me that felt as empty as the void around me.

Then it sank down, its skeletal grin disappearing into the mud, the fresh bodies adorning its antlers already weeping their corruption into the water.

I… I don’t really know what happened after that.

I was found a few hundred miles from where I’d started. I was feverish and rambling. It’s a miracle anyone found me, but by chance there was a forest fire where I was wandering and I was picked up by the Forest Service.

I don’t go into the forests anymore. I mostly stay indoors if I’m honest. I got myself an office job.

I used to think that no matter what we did to nature, it would recover. It could fix whatever terrible things we’d done to it. I was wrong.

Nature is not biding its time; it is an all-consuming force, ready to engulf us. And as humanity cannibalises itself, nature watches, draped in the filth of our own making.

Thoughts

This was an odd one for me, not the direction I was expecting to go, but then that’s what happens with the most fun projects. I took the prompt my friend suggested and thought it would be fun to subvert it in some way.

There’s of course ties to environmentalism, corporate corruption (physical and ethical), and how even those that can so confidently say they understand nature may not know the extent of the damage we do. Even those we deem “knowledgeable” can be as likely to fall into logical pitfalls that work in their favour, or make their life easier.

The fact that this character is alive in the end and decides to simply fade back into civilization, seeing it as an inevitability rather than something to resist or work against. I felt it mirrored a lot of attitudes, how we all like someone else to do the hard work, or remain ignorant.

Not to say I’m at all perfect, I have made mistakes and can always improve my actions and forethought when thinking about the environment.

Sorry for getting off topic.

Hope you liked it if you made it this far, take it as a creepy story or a cautionary tale, I would love to hear your thoughts, or what you can do with this prompt 😊

Have a lovely day everyone!

[chiekodivine]

if you live in a major city then you know to fear the rain. the smog contaminated rain water touches the ground. this then mixes with the piss and shit left on the streets. the smell of bodily waste intensifies. your clothes begin to soak. suddenly you’ve taken a bath in the sewer system. your shitty bodega umbrella keeps flipping inside out. droplets slide down your cheeks. however they aren’t tears. it’s just the rain.

[grassbreads]

God I'm so glad I decided to read No Pollution, No Public Harm. Gan Qing is a fucking gift. I'm genuinely thrilled that for once I've found an interesting m/f dynamic where the woman gets the be the tortured, edgy, mysterious one.

I'm in mid to late book three, and man, the other women in the novel are a mixed bag, but Gan Qing is just so good. She's a shameless brash menace of a person on the surface and an obviously traumatized hardass underneath. If she's not already a murderer, then she's constantly teetering on the edge of becoming one. She's got layers. She dropped out of high school but she corrects the mistakes on Liu Zhongqi's english homework. She hangs out around her apartment in oversized basketball shorts and gets sick from running after eating too many chicken wings and she could slit somebody's throat with her house key. She's cool as hell and legit terrifying and she's gross and messy and weird. 10/10 the love interest of all time genuinely.

[blu-screen]

⋆ ai trainin' eh?

⋆ what if i just ⋆ started shitpostin' even more to fuck it all up...?

[sack-thing]

This is crazy, but my FFCC script is now going to be available online in english. ⭐

I uploaded the first two chapters on AO3, covering the intro and first dungeon. A peaceful beginning for this little story.

I've got the first year translated already and a bit of the second, so I guess there will be regular updates for a while. We'll see how the rest goes!

[shallowrambles]

There’s a special seat in Hell for ppl that will try to translocate illness into “what you did” or “things that happened to you in the past.”

Funny thing about illness is that it doesn’t need a reason. Sometimes? Bodies just don’t work right, even when you do everything right and live a charmed life.

The rate of many illnesses is remarkably stable throughout populations, despite the cyclical struggles of living human life.