#heavy rainfall consequences

[townpostin]

Heavy Monsoon Showers Bring Jamshedpur to a Standstill

15 mm rainfall causes severe waterlogging in Jugsalai, Bistupur, and Sakchi areas Jamshedpur experiences significant disruption as heavy monsoon rains lead to widespread waterlogging and traffic chaos across the city. JAMSHEDPUR – Heavy monsoon showers on Tuesday caused severe waterlogging in several parts of Jamshedpur, disrupting daily life and exposing infrastructure vulnerabilities. The city…

[inkinflux]

Can't Handle When the Fight Runs Out

Jayce Talis x f!Reader | 2.1k | SFW (tw: mentions of self harm)

Having survived the outcome of the hexcore's chaos, Jayce now deals with the consequences his trauma has on your relationship. A/N: angst, i'm sorry!! I was really inspired by this beautiful song. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

“Jayce?”

His name spoken, a warm hand outstretched in the dark.

The scar on his back was blue in the speckled moonlight that blanketed the kitchen, his shoulders heaving silently. The shadow of raindrops fell down the perfect canvas, disturbed only by the dents and divots of musculature.

Creaky floorboards announced your presence with a soft groan, and Jayce’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide.

You approached cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his back. Jayce flinched, leaning forward, placing his hands against the stone counter top to ground himself.

“Did the thunder wake you?” You asked, delving further forward, careful touches sinking into his warm flesh until he gave way, leaning back into you as you pressed your cheek to him.

You gazed through the tall window into the night. Heavy rainfall and a sad, quiet record had lulled you into an easy sleep. You hadn’t noticed Jayce had left your bed until you rolled over, grasping for his body and coming up empty.

Lightning flashed across the blackened sky, illuminating the towers of Piltover. No longer did the tallest building emit the comforting blue glow of the hexgates. All that was left was an unsettling darkness, an absence that would be fruitless to fill.

Jayce didn’t answer. You were patient, your sleep-laden body heavy against his as you struggled to keep upright.

His silence gnawed at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, fingers stretching up, settling over his heart.

“D’you want me to stay or go?”

Jayce placed his hand over yours. “Stay.”

That was something. Often, he’d tell you to go back to bed, made grumpy in all his missed sleep.

Most days he could barely stand to look at you anymore. Rejection was poised on his tongue at every suggestion. A trip to get away from Piltover? Picking up a new hobby to serve as a distraction? Alchemical solutions to help him sleep? No. No. No.

It was enough to make you feel like a burden.

As if hearing you dwell on such thoughts, Jayce said, “I’m sorry.”

“You were angry,” you conceded. “You’re forgiven.”

He wrapped a hold around your hands, pulling your arms around himself tighter.

“Does it get too hard?” He asked, “Being so good to me every day?” His head hung heavy, his sorrow apparent. “I know I haven’t been… easy to love, lately.”

Your eyes stung. You pressed your forehead to his back, letting the tears fall to the floor with two dull thuds.

It would’ve been to hard to dispute his words, for they were true. And besides, you didn’t want this to devolve into another fight.

Jayce sighed, breathing into your silence. He turned, rotating in your arms, to face you. You peered up at him, the motion causing another tear to fall onto your cheek.

“I know it’s been hard for you too,” your voice was small. “More than I can imagine.”

Jayce shook his head, eyebrows drawn down. He looked like a kicked puppy, even while he towered over you, strong hands reaching up to hold your face tenderly.

“I stood at the end of the world,” he said, fear flashing in his eyes at the recollection, “I feel the same way I did then, whenever the distance between us grows. And I know it’s all my fault.”

“It’s okay-“

“No, it’s not.”

You took a step back, out of his grip. You were so tired of his bad moods. Of his righteous victimhood. You were a mix of resentful and guilty and adoring. How could you be anything other than grateful he had come home, all those months ago?

“It’s okay,” you reiterated, “I never assumed I’d be getting the same Jayce back.”

He nodded, clasping his shaking hands in front of himself, his eyes following, not wanting you to see how hurt he felt.

“Yeah,” he huffed ironic amusement, “Instead, you got a ghost.”

His thumb traced the blue rune embedded in his wrist. The flesh now bore two deep purple lines where he had attempted to carve it out. You winced as your vision flashed red at the memory.

“What is it you want to do?” You had refrained from asking questions for long enough. You knew you had been avoiding the inevitable heartbreak.

Being brave wasn’t your forte. If you had been in Jayce’s shoes, you knew you wouldn’t have been able to do it, soft-hearted as you were.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Jayce decided, the finality in his voice making your stomach twist. “Seems I can’t handle when the fight runs out. All I do is take it out on you.”

Why couldn’t he be content with the peace he had earned? Why couldn’t he block out the violent memories with the love and light you provided?

He had spent countless sleepless nights tracing your sleeping form, wanting to wake you and share his burden. But the thought of tainting you with it pained him more than the nightmares that left claw marks on his mind.

He’d started to resent you for knowing him so well. For leaving when he needed space, and staying when he needed your touch. For voicing how he felt without him needing to open his mouth. Lashing out whenever you tried to offer company, keeping you backed against the walls in your own home to avoid upsetting him.

You were the last thought that floated to his consciousness in that final, bright flash. Instead of the comfort of death, he had awoken to a new day, with nothing left to say.

Who was he without Viktor, without his partner? What was his purpose without hextech, without some sort of greater cause? There was nothing left for him in this world, and yet it had selfishly taken him back, bringing him back to you.

You, who had waited patiently for him to speak, after days of shell-shocked speechlessness. You, who had bathed him and shaved him and slipped fluffy socks on his feet to keep him warm. You, who rushed to close the windows and balcony doors whenever construction down the street began, shielding him from any startling noises.

You, who had been his entire world, until he realized you were just a girl.

As much as he wished for the adverse to be true, a person couldn’t substitute a purpose.

“Can you be angry with me, for once?” His tone was begging, his eyes glassy as he looked up to meet your gaze.

Looking at you, he could glean no fury, no fire. Only weariness etched into your beautiful face, a blank facade that had once been so prone to passion. Despite his attempts to keep you sheltered from his mangled psyche, he had broken you.

Your profile was cast in a blue flicker from the lightning outside, and it pulled your attention away. You stared into the rain for a while before taking hold of Jayce’s hand, tugging him silently to the door.

You were bringing him outside. Kicking him out. His heart started stuttering at the prospect. He thought he was ready for it, he had imagined it would have to come sometime soon.

As you stepped past the apartment threshold, all entered an almost-perfect darkness. You let Jayce’s hand fall, not looking at him before stepping into the rain.

Jayce choked on a response to your unexpected action. Words failed him as he watched you quickly become drenched, before laying down on the road. Your form blended into the storm, your baggy pyjama pants and sleeping top forming tight around your body from the weight of the water.

Jayce entered the curtain waterfall, the raindrops fat and cool amongst the humid summer air. His feet slapped against the pavement until he reached you. He hesitated no longer to lay down beside you, his eyes squinted against the water as it fell against his face.

He stretched his arms out, splayed fingers bumping against yours. He turned his head to look at you, and you were already gazing at your close hands, undeniably feeling the same pull he was.

Jayce linked his fingers through yours, resting the back of his hand against the wet ground.

“I know the emptiness inside you can’t be remedied by anything I do,” you told him after a while of drowning in your swirling emotions.

The rain had woken both of you up, your emotions more coherent. You were looking up into the cloudy sky, the rain letting up finally, slowly transforming from raindrops to a light mist.

“Then why do you keep trying?” Jayce asked. “Doesn’t it piss you off?”

“Of course it does,” you said, with a gentleness that soothed his soul, despite his yearning for anger. “But that emptiness isn’t you, Jayce. Your grief isn’t a part of you, it’s just… the construction of a monument to all you’ve lost. It always takes time before it’s done.”

Jayce glanced at the scaffolding against the front of one of the neighbouring buildings on your street. He smiled at your everlasting ability to make random analogies from your surroundings.

“Let me guess. It also puts up a racket that drives the neighbours crazy?”

“Exactly,” you smiled, turning onto your side to look at him.

He sighed, turning to face you too. “You do realize we’re laying in the middle of the street?”

“Mhm,” you hummed your acknowledgement, your face still warm despite the chill that had set in from the rain.

You reached out for him, and he shuffled closer, cradling your hand as you pressed it to his cheek.

“What if the builders are lousy and take long lunch breaks?” He asked, “What if they can’t get the monument done in time?”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, along his scar. “Isn’t that what always happens? It’s to be expected.”

Jayce slid your hand down to his lips, placing a kiss against your fingers. His hip was starting to ache from being pressed against the concrete. Every sensation suddenly sharp and astute, something he wasn’t used to these days as he walked through a haze.

It was nice to finally feel awake.

You pushed against the ground, raising to sit, your knees bent.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Jayce sat up, his mind no longer clouded by pity and pain.

“And if I want to stay?” He asked, “How do I make it up to you?”

You frowned, thinking about it.

“Talk to me. Let me in on the blueprints for this massive monument being built inside of you.”

Jayce chuckled, catching your hand as it slapped half-heartedly against his chest.

“A burden shared is a burden halved, right? I think in your case the burden if way too big to be easily split, but if I can even take a chip of it, hand me a chisel.”

“Alright,” his voice strained as he stood with effort, “I can tell how tired you are when you start getting attached to metaphors. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Before you could prepare a retort, Jayce was scooping you up, carrying you without effort back into your home. You had begun shivering at some point, no doubt from the cold of the rain, and Jayce held your trembling body close, his body heat a persevering force.

When you returned home, Jayce shed your wet clothes and bundled you in blankets and pulled on fluffy socks, placing a kiss on each ankle as he finished doing so.

Warmth blossomed in your chest from the affection. It had been so long since he had indulged in it.

Now he nuzzled his face into your neck, snoring while you remained wide awake. Laying with his peaceful presence, and stroking calming touches to his hair when he twitched from dreams. You could have stayed like that forever, holding him and the weight of the grief inside of him. But then the rain started back up again, and the periodic rise of his back with each breath lulled you to sleep, his body a weighted blanket.

The morning was grey and the rain continued, leading to a late sleep-in. The smell of breakfast woke you a moment before Jayce entered the room, his face clean-shaven and his eyes the brightest you’d seen since he went away.

“It’s not a chisel,” he said, handing you a fork, “but it’s a start, right?”

You looked between him and the plate. Carefully, you took it from his hands, placing both items on the nightstand before pulling him against you in a desperate embrace, your kisses erratic and drawing pleased sounds from his pretty throat.

“Missed you,” you hummed against his lips.

“Me too,” he replied, before deepening the kiss.

[goldfades]

🍁 for luke?!

congrats again on 100!! 🫶🏻

AAAAAA TYSM LOVE !!!!!! enjoy this blurb lmao, i love lukey pookie <3

he's so 1989. idk why but he just gives off that vibe. OKAY. HE'S VERY 'how you get the girl' (he for sure got the girl in this one lmao)

luke doesn't know how the hell he ended up at your house.

it was a 11:30 on a random tuesday, he knows you're asleep but he can't, even though he knows he has early morning practice tomorrow and a whole day of classes. his mind is racing, but so is this heart.

it was raining and he's still in his pajamas, too. his new jersey devils pj's really fit the whole mood. he rolled his eyes at himself ─ why didn't he change?

it had been six months since you two had broken up. well, not exactly. tomorrow morning, or in 20 minutes time, it would be exactly 6 months since you two had broke up. he knew this because he had been anxiously counting the days until your break-up was official.

ever since luke was little, jack would always tell him that break-up's weren't official until the 6 month mark which basically gave them a 'grace period' to get back together. and even now, as a whole adult, he applies it to everything.

he doesn't even know why he was here. he knew you had moved on ─ he saw all those guys you were with at the bar the other night, you weren't hurting anymore. still, that stupid rule made everything so much worse. knowing that after this period, you wouldn't even be thinking about him anymore made him sick.

he decided, an hour ago, that he was gonna get you back that night. he finally let out a big exhale and closed his eyes, getting out of the car and into the rain, walking up to your driveway and to your front door.

he quickly rang the doorbell twice ─ it was your guys' inside joke, knocking twice or ringing the doorbell twice was some kind of code for one another.

he heard some faint footsteps and he straightened his posture, letting out a loud exhale before you opened the door.

your eyes widened at the sight. your ex, luke hughes, standing outside your door in the rain, a few minutes before midnight. he could see the grogginess on your face and suddenly felt a tinge of guilt.

his curly hair was soaking wet and so were his pj's and you almost cringed at the sight. then you saw his face, his cute, stupid face. your heart fluttered at the sight, like it always did when you saw him, even when he was being a fucking asshole.

"luke, what are you doing here?" you shouted over the rain, that was starting to become more than just a midnight shower.

"i-i..." he didn't even know what to say. he let out a loud exhale before speaking again. "i miss you, y/n. i really, really miss you. i can't sleep, i keep repeating that fight over and over again and every time, i wish i had said something different. anything else would've been better."

your heart broke again at those words as you were transported back to that night. you shook your head, you didn't wanna relive that after you'd tried so hard to get over it all these months. "oh, you can't sleep?" you said, sarcastically. "i have repeated that night over and over again too, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. for a while, i even blamed myself─"

"it's not your fault, it was mine!"

"yeah, i know that now." you spoke bitterly at the boy, who was now shaking from the now, heavy rainfall. "i wish you had said something different, too, luke. but now we both have to live with the conseque─"

"fuck, y/n!" he grunted in frustration. "i'm so mad at myself for letting that happen, i'm so sorry for doing that to you."

you let those few words sink in. luke hughes was not one to ever apologize, you knew that. that was one of the reasons why you two had ended things and hearing those words come out of his mouth felt somewhat therapeutic. "luke─"

"y/n, please just let me talk!" he shouted over the rain. "if i could go back in time i would. if i could just... erase all of it, i would. but i can't. and i know i'm selfish for even asking this but i want you back. no one compares to you and no one ever will, y/n. i've tried, i really have. but i lost you once and i'll be damned if i lost you again if you just gave me another chance.”

that whole monologue sounded like it was right outta a movie. you didn't know how to feel ─ or how to react. you felt so many emotions wash over you and you took another good look at luke.

his curly hair, his soft skin, his entire face just took you back to when you two were together ─ the good times, too. summer at the lake house with his family, late night car rides for drinks, sunday night dates because he insisted that saturdays were for the boys, and especially, his soft touch.

luke's heart was beating out of his chest and he knew he was going to catch a cold because of how long he'd been standing outside, but all of that wouldn't matter if you just took him back. he watched your expression change and he swears he felt like a million tons had just been lifted off his chest as you opened up the door for him to come in.

"alright, luke. fine, one more chance. one, and if you fuck up, it's over and it will be over for the rest of our lives, got it?"

that sweet smile graced his lips for the first time tonight as he walked into your home, exhaling deeply. "got it."

you both stared into each other's eyes, your heart beating fast as a smile plastered on your face as well. then, luke smashed his lips against yours and pushed you against the door. "won't make you regret it, princess."

MY 100 FOLLOWER CELLY!

[thepromptswhisperer]

Under My Umbrella Prompts

1. A wordlessly opens their umbrella and holds it over B (and themselves).

2. “Careful. There’s a— …puddle.”

3. A shakes out their umbrella, the action (accidentally) leading to B’s clothes getting wet.

4. A goes out of their way to make sure A gets home/inside without getting soaked by the rain. (e.g. they pick them up at work) 

5. (In a hurry,) A accidentally takes B’s umbrella with them. (They forgot that theirs has a panda design/etc.)

6. A tilts their umbrella just so in an attempt to not get recognized by B who is coming their way.

7. A loses their/B’s umbrella.

8. A and B link arms as they get cozy underneath the umbrella.

9. A and B decide to stand underneath a shop’s awning/in a house entrance/etc. until the rainfall lessens/comes to a stop.

10. “There’s enough space underneath here for both us.”/”I don’t mind sharing with you.”

11. A (and B) abandon(s) their umbrella. Their clothes are already soaked anyway.

12. When it starts to rain, A quickly runs into a shop to buy an umbrella. B had the same idea (and now they are fighting over the last umbrella the shop has left).

13. A and B share a kiss/a hug underneath the umbrella.

14. “I won’t melt.” “Still. For me. Please?”

15. Underneath the umbrella, A feels like they are in their own little world with B.

16. A opts to use their umbrella when there’s but a drizzle. (B thinks it’s amusing.)

17. A invites B to get underneath their umbrella (with them).

18. A’s arm sneaks around B’s shoulder/waist as they walk, the latter holding the umbrella that keeps them both dry.

19. A gently steers B to the side as they walk together underneath an umbrella so that they can avoid walking into a puddle.

20. “I was in the neighborhood when it started to rain and thought—” “Why not seek refuge at A’s? (My, don’t I feel honored.)”

21. When it starts to rain, A uses their jacket/hands/a pizza box etc. to keep themselves (/(and) B) as dry as possible.

22. A tries their best to shield B from the rain, but the raindrops running down the (shared) umbrella catch on their left/right side.

23. A’s umbrella (almost) gets blown away/turned inside out thanks to the strong wind.

24. A thought B was ridiculous/simply making a fashion statement when they insisted on taking an umbrella with them. Now they are glad they did.

25. A starts to sing a song that contains the words umbrella. (e.g. Singin’ in the Rain)

26. “(Could you wrap it up?) I’m not getting any drier here.”

27. A holds out their hand/tilts their umbrella to determine if it still rains (much).

28. When it starts to rain/the rain intensifies, A and B decide to make a run for it.

29. A notices too late that B has stolen their umbrella.

30. The direction the rain is coming from and the consequently tilted umbrella make it so that A barely sees where they are going. (They almost walk straight into B.)

31. A lifts/lowers their umbrella as to not collide with anything/anybody.

32. “I can’t have you getting sick.”

33. A and B both have their own umbrella and try to figure out how to best walk close to one another considering the situation.

34. A and B jump over a puddle together.

35. A complains about the umbrella being heavy/remarks they did an arm workout the day before/etc. in the hopes that B will take over and hold the umbrella over both of them.

36. “You’ve asked for protection, your highness?” “My hero. Saving me from the big bad rain.”

37. No umbrella could have helped A with staying dry – not when a car drives through a puddle and sprays them wet/they accidentally step into a puddle/etc.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

The Direct Links Between Southern Brazil’s Massive Flooding and Climate Denial

Right-wing groups are peddling false claims that the heavy rainfall that led to the region’s disastrous flooding in May is not related to climate change.

On May 9, volunteers and emergency workers were still rescuing people and animals who remained stranded on the sixth day of flooding on the streets of Rio Grande do Sul’s capital, Porto Alegre. Social media images of the rooftop rescue of a horse named Caramelo shocked the world. 

A day before the dramatic rescue, Porto Alegre’s deputy mayor, Ricardo Gomes, appeared on a livestream wearing a cap with the Brasil Paralelo logo. Brasil Paralelo is a far-right media company with a streaming platform focusing on “journalism, entertainment, and education,” as its website states. The company was founded in Porto Alegre in 2016 and serves as a main channel of climate denialism among right-wing groups in Brazil. By wearing the Brasil Paralelo logo, Gomes associated himself with an institution that experts say is a purveyor of climate denialism, at the height of a climate-related disaster. 

Some days later, Ricardo Felício, a professor of Brasil Paralelo’s education wing who has also appeared on many of the platform’s documentaries, wrote that climate change did not cause the extreme rainfall in South Brazil. He published his opinions in the Revista Oeste (West Magazine), a print and online publication that caters to far-right followers of former President Jair Bolsonaro, saying “CO2 has nothing to do with it!” 

Southern Brazil was under water for the entire month of May, and two months later, it’s still facing the consequences of the worst flood in its history. Hundreds of thousands have been displaced – 180 have died, and 32 are still missing. 

Porto Alegre’s mayor, Sebastião Melo, and Deputy Mayor Gomes have led its city council since 2021. Both were elected in the wake of Bolsonarism and won decisive victories. And both have faced media criticism for failures in managing the city’s emergency responses to the flood and for failing to update its anti-flood system.

Continue reading.

Brought by @sataniccapitalist. Thanks!

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Three

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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The next several days were spent texting Kidd about any and everything with no topic left unexplored. He’d start each day by texting you good morning and you’d end the night over the phone, telling him to get some rest when his speech slurred as a consequence of exhaustion. You found it so endearing when he’d send you random messages throughout the day, almost always relating to his job as a mechanic or a project that he was planning to work on as soon as his shift was over. Kidd made sure to ask about your day and the times you were free, opting to invite you to visit him at his house on your next day off.

You wanted so desperately to catch Hip up on your situation but she had still not replied to any of your previous calls or texts. Just thinking about what could’ve possibly caused such a change in your relationship was enough to make you ill. You forced yourself to focus on your pending day with Kidd, the only thing that seemed to effectively stabilize your thoughts. A part of you had started to wonder if she was upset that you’d grown so close to Kidd in such a short amount of time, but the idea was so irritating that you forced it to the back of your mind completely.

Much more pressing was the storm that had begun to rage shortly after you’d arrived at Kidd’s. You were trying your absolute damnedest to not let him see how scared you were but as thunder rumbled overhead and hail pattered against his windows, you clung to him tighter than ever before. Judging by the wide grin splayed across his handsome face, you could tell he was loving every second of it.

“Scared of a little rain?”, he said playfully, leaning his lips close enough to your ear that they brushed against it.

“No, I’m not.”, you retaliated with a furrowed brows and a pout, causing him to erupt with laughter at your stubbornness.

“If you’re not afraid, why are you holding onto me like I can control the weather?”, he teased you, squeezing your sides as a silent way to ease your nerves.

You shot him a glare which immediately faltered as the power flickered out. Your vice grip on his arm tightened as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck. The thunder only seemed to crack louder and tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. You really didn’t want him to see you like this but his comfort was the only thing preventing you from panicking. A sudden, loud rattling sound emanated from the front door which caused you to flinch. Kidd’s large hands met your back and relief washed over you as Killer stepped in, hair dampened from the heavy rainfall.

“It’s piss-pouring the rain out there.”, he commented as he kicked off his boots, running thick fingers through blonde tangles, “I’m not surprised the power’s out.”

“It just happened and it’s damn near got this one in tears.”, Kidd continued to tease as he gestured down at you, your reddened face indicating your discomfort.

“Don’t let Kidd mess with you (Y/N), give it right back to his mean ass.”, Killer instructed playfully just before each of your phones buzzed at the same time, a severe weather warning popping up on the screens, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it looks like this is a set-in storm.”

“Yeah, you’d be better off spending the night.”, Kidd rubbed circles into your back as you looked up at him with glazed eyes, “Not that I think you’d leave my side until it’s over away.”

You lightly swatted his chest in response to the comment as Killer shook his head. The three of you sat in the dark living room and talked about nothing in particular as the night went on, the occasional lightening strike providing momentary illumination. Unbeknownst to you, the two of them were purposefully keeping the conversation going to distract you from the weather. Killer took himself to bed after a while as exhaustion from a long shift became too persistent to ignore. Kidd took the opportunity to lead you to his room which, even with a lack of light, looked exactly as you’d imagined it would.

There were a few posters lining the walls and miscellaneous pictures of his friend group that had assuredly been gifted to him. His albums were nearly organized and displayed next to a large sound system, the volume of discs he’d collected was impressive. The closet was as nearly organized as everything else, each item seeming to have its own place. You snagged the biggest shirt you could find to sleep in, the garment perfectly distressed from being worn so frequently. As you stepped into his bathroom to change for the night, you couldn’t help but smile at the tubes of lipstick and eyeliner resting on the countertop. They were as unconventional as he was, but you couldn’t imagine him without such products adorning his already devastating features. When you reentered his room he was laid on his back on the bed, mindlessly scrolling thru his phone. As he turned to face you, his eyes grew a bit wide and his expression was unreadable.

“What’re you giving me that look for?”, you took on a serious tone to repay him for messing with you earlier in the evening.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”, he replied in a flat tone, his stoic face unwavering.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any clothes with me so I thought I’d just wear something of yours to bed.”, you explained, starting to feel the beginnings of anxiety, “I can change back into my clothes, I should’ve asked first.”

“That’s not what I meant!”, he said a little loudly as he sat up and reached out to grab onto your waist, clumsily pulling you lay on top of him as you giggled, “You look good as hell.”

“Kidd.”, you laughed at his choice of words as they were rough but well intentioned, just like him.

You adjusted yourself to get more comfortable, using his chest as a pillow and positioning your leg over his own. He rested his hand between your shoulders as his thumb rubbed lazy circles, light snoring echoing throughout the quiet room as he fell asleep. The night was peaceful and you were sleeping soundly until the repetitive, rapid buzzing of Kidd’s cellphone on his nightstand woke the two of you. He lifted his phone to reveal Hip’s contact on the screen. He tossed his phone back onto the table and remarked that he wasn’t going to answer the call, she’d send a text if it were important anyway.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and flopped around until your positions had been flipped, you on your back and him nestling his head against your chest. He could tell that Hip’s call had made you tense so he opted to start making fun of how tightly you clung to him over a few drops of rain the night prior, the only way he knew to lighten the mood. He knew it’d worked when you scoffed at him, making it a point to mention how it was a hell of a lot more than just a few drops of rain. The sleepy laughs and wide grin that spread across his face from your defiance was contagious and caused your defense to falter. The two of you shared a glance and locked eyes, the seconds developed into minutes and you could feel your face growing warm.

Kidd leant up and hovered his lips over yours for a moment, giving you adequate time and space to push him away if you weren’t feeling the same things he was. He lowered his lips onto your own, only pulling away to get a look at your wide-eyed expression. You just looked so sweet lying underneath him, a tenseness swelling in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. He didn’t want to mess things up by moving too fast but he wanted you, needed you so badly. He resumed kissing you with a greater sense of urgency, nipping and sucking on your bottom lip as his hands kneaded your sides through the loose fabric of the shirt you’d slept in. He trailed his way from your lips to your neck, wasting no time in continuing his way down your abdomen.

“Kidd…”, you whimpered out as his lips met the tops of your thighs, realization of the situation dawning on you as he played with the hem of your bottoms.

“I’m right here, (Y/N).”, he began to massage your hips in an attempt to soothe your obvious discomfort, “Are you alright?”

“Yes… I think…”, his words meant so much to you, his attentiveness to your reactions only working to increase your growing desire for him, “I’m alright, just nervous.”

“I wanna make you feel good.”, he let his fingers slip just under the top of your bottoms, “Can I?”

You nodded your head after taking a moment to ponder on his proposal, totally overwhelmed but eager for relief from the arousal he’d built up within you. He slid the fabric past your knees, discarding the unwanted clothing to the floor. He took your knees in both hands and spread your legs to accommodate his body, opting to rest your feet against his shoulders as he left imprecise kisses on the inner portion of your thighs. You instinctively reached for his hands, interlocking your fingers with his own for support as he placed his mouth over your sex.

The most erotic sounds met your ears as he licked and sucked all the right places to have you writhing with pleasure. Your heavy panting only served to spur him on further, urging him to intensify his ministrations. Once he was sure that you were focused on the pleasure and relaxed, he released your hands in order to circle your entrance with two thick fingers. He pulled back for a moment as he carefully coaxed his digits inside, pumping slowly a few times before quickening and returning his mouth to its prior position. It didn’t take long for your abdomen to tighten, the flutters squeezing around his fingers letting him know you were close. He had certainly achieved his goal of making you feel good.

“Kidd! Something is- Something’s happening…”, you stuttered out as your impending climax coursed through your body.

He hummed as you came undone against his lips, continuing for a little bit more to allow you ride out your high before admiring his work. Your embarrassment returned in full force, prompting you to clamp your legs shut and pout when he stared for too long. He cracked a grin at you before pulling himself up and overtop of you, not hesitating to meet your lips in an exchange of adoration.

“You did so fucking well.”, he spoke against your ear, his voice sounding gruffer than usual, “You wanna try to take me?”

His use of the word ‘try’ was not just a phrase used in passing, he’d stripped unceremoniously after your consent and the size of his cock was impressive. He was big by every sense of the word, not a complete surprise considering he was a large person in general. He slid his hands under your thighs, lifting them to rest on either side of his own. He rubbed himself at your entrance for a moment, giving you time to prepare yourself before he began to push himself in. A lovely gasp escaped your lips as his hips pressed flush against your own, your half-lidded eyes meeting his very blown pupils.

He felt so good with you wrapped so snuggly around him, he couldn’t remember another time feeling so secure in a situation like this. Kidd drew his hips back and forth a steady pace, working his way to sharper thrusts as the pleasure built between you. He felt the need to be as close to you as possible, kissing and lightly sinking his teeth into any patches of exposed skin he could reach. Your nails coursed along the muscles of his back, an indication of how well he was fucking you.

“Fuck (Y/N)… I’m close…”, Kidd muttered out, gripping your hip and resting his forehead against your own, “I’m gonna fill you up…”

Your eyes screwed shut as his movements became erratic and sloppy, an intense warmth spreading in your lower belly as he slowed to a halt. His breathing was audibly heavy as he rested against you for a moment, carefully removing himself from you when he was grounded. Kidd wordlessly trailed to the bathroom, the sight of his naked ass causing you to stifle a laugh. He returned quickly with a damped cloth for clean up, already wearing clean bottoms himself and smiling manically at how beautiful you looked spread out on his bed. He rested the cloth between your legs, caging his arms around your waist and pressing himself against you.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be this clingy when we first met.”, you teased him, running your fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp.

He only hummed in response, seemingly lost in thought. It wasn’t like him to pass on an opportunity to argue, especially not when it came to him being soft. The silence was disconcerting, was he having regrets? Had you done something wrong?

“I’m really glad that I met you (Y/N).”, he said out of the blue, obliterating your deprecating thought process.

“I’m really glad I met you too Kidd.”, you leant down and kissed his forehead, not entirely sure where the sudden sentimentality was coming from.

“I can’t really explain it but things feel different with you.”, he started, leaning into your hand as you continued playing with his hair, “Anytime we went out, I would get as fucked up as possible. We’d do stupid shit, find someone to go home with, and then wake up feeling like hell, pissed off at the world… Then do it all over again.”

You listened to him carefully, giving him the opportunity to open up to you while wrestling with the emotions his words were building up within you. The ‘we’ he was referring to was likely himself, Killer, and the rest of his friends that you’d met that first night at the bar. They seemed like nice people, but it was obvious that they led a hard lifestyle and Kidd was no exception.

“I guess it’s always been like that, nothing could ever go right or be easy. For a long time, it was just Killer and I taking care of each other.”, he tilted his head up to meet your eyes, “Sometimes I don’t even know how we made it this far… Damn, I didn’t mean to get all sentimental.”

“I wish the world had been kinder to you and that the past had been easier, but I hope I can help make the future something to look forward to.”, you replied, hoping to ease the looming discomfort brought forth by his recollection of the past.

He brought his lips to yours again, intertwining his tongue with your own as a physical manifestation of his feelings and reciprocation of your statement for the future. Kidd wasn’t used to opening up like this, especially not verbally. He was far better described as a man of action, not so much of words. It was bittersweet to be close to him like this, you loved having the opportunity to learn more about him but the struggles he’d faced pained you. It had also become apparent that the closer your relationship became with Kidd, the farther apart you were driven from Hip. It was such a strange dichotomy to ponder, but you pushed those thoughts aside and enjoyed your time in the moment regardless.

Part Four

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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[intheorangebedroom]

Can we just pretend that this is Frankie whispering I love you to you?

I hope you are feeling better. I miss harrassing you with asks 🧡

@deadmantis my LOVE, I always feel good when you’re in my notifs. This one has kept me awake and drove me crazy, but anything for you. They’re so stubborn, and when they don't want to cooperate... Anyway. I'm not entirely satisfied, but I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. I did my very best for you, I always do, I love you so, so much 🧡 Happy Frankie Friday to you 🧡

Summary: Three words. It's not that complicated.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader.

Rating: explicit but no filth, just my gothic heart 🔞

Word count: 1.5k

[series masterlist]

Drabble: To Bring You My Love

He enjoys driving home to you nearly as much as he loves staying home with you. 

Tonight’s no different, and when Mick Fleetwood’s voice comes up on the truck’s stereo, Francisco Morales smiles to himself in the bright city night. 

He kept his promise. He fixed it. Fixed everything. Or close enough, anyway. 

Friday evenings are spent at the bar again, the same dim yellow lights, the same moist, yeasty cheap beer smell. The same table.

And Tom’s chair, loudly empty. 

Most likely thanks to Will, if he had to guess, and probably on your account more than his. But even Ironhead’s unwavering loyalty can only abide that many faults before his hard, cold rationalism takes over and prompts him to take action. 

If Tom’s absence is a consequence Frankie hadn’t anticipated, it’s one he doesn’t regret. He’s heard the man has moved down to Florida, but he doesn’t really care. The further away from you, the better. 

Pope doesn’t seem entirely dissatisfied with this new order of things, either. 

As for Benny, well Benny just follows suit, like he always does. 

The air is still a bit chill between him and Frankie, but they’re getting there, step by step. Frankie’s resentment receding along with his friend’s heartbreak, one drink at a time. 

It’s been only two years, and overall, there’s a refreshing, easy balance to their group. 

And yet, however meaningful, Tom’s departure is not the most important change.

On Friday nights, like tonight, he’s driving back to you. Whether he’ll find you already sleeping or parking your small Ford after an evening out, you’re here. For real. For good. 

He’s nearly home when his phone lights up on the empty passenger seat. His gaze rapidly flickers between the road and the screen, that glares in celadon green in the cabin’s relative darkness. It’s weather alert, forecasting heavy rainfall tomorrow, he’ll have to fight the urge to drive you to the bookstore himself. Maybe he can get away with picking you up at the end of your day? Maybe you’ll let him. You can be stubborn.

He should change that impersonal default lock screen. Put a picture of you, like Santi suggested. Santi, who proudly exhibits Yovanna’s gorgeous smile and luminous beauty to just about anyone who might look at his phone’s screen. 

Well, Frankie tried. Turns out he can’t. Not that he doesn’t have any pictures of you in his camera roll. At this point, he has hundreds. And you’re dressed in most of them. 

But putting you on display simply feels inappropriate. For years, you’d been his secret. A ghost, a memory. A feeling akin to a curse. He had kept your name silent, protecting the possibility of your existence and the reality of what had happened in the orange bedroom. 

Distracted, he re-emerges from his recurring thoughts to find himself at the front door. He considers retracing his steps to check if he locked the tuck before getting into the house, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs to see you. The living-room’s dark but the bedroom lights are on; he takes off his jacket and gets rid of his boots before walking briskly down the carpeted corridor. 

He finds you sitting in bed, the warm glow from the bedside table casting soft orange hues on your soft face. You’re leaning over a thick book, wearing your favourite t-shirt of his, a shapeless grey cotton tee with red letters that spell “Buenos Aires” across the chest. A gift from Izzy, when he was still in the military. 

He pauses briefly on the threshold; a broad smile dimples his cheeks. 

Your eyes are still lowered on the page when you greet him in a light, happy tone. 

“Hey, gorgeous!”

“Hey, querida.”

Your head shoots up at the unusual term of endearment. He steps quickly into the room and turns his back to you to hide his embarrassment, wincing as he undoes his watch and places it on the dresser across from the bed. 

“How was the evening? How’re the guys?” you ask, and he can feel your eyes boring into his back. 

“Good. All good. Will asked me to tell you Sunday works for him. Apparently you’re supposed to know what that means,” he adds, pulling his plaid shirt above his head. 

“Oh, neat!” you exclaim, lying your book face down on the table, wiggling your feet excitedly under the sheet. “The Guggenheim has an exhibition about early 19th century Parisian painters,” you explain. 

He smiles to himself again, and proceeds to take off his belt. The heavy buckle produces a metallic thud when it hits the wooden top of the dresser.

Behind his back, your voice comes in suddenly very thin. 

“You don’t mind, do you? I never asked.”

He turns, frowning, “Mind what?”

“Me. Being friends with Will. You’re not… jealous or anything, right?”

He’s about to laugh it off, a quip on the tip of his tongue, but something stops him. Something striking, unsettling in its past familiarity and its recent scarcity. It’s in the earnestness of your tone, the sudden solemnity of your gaze.

“What if I am?” he asks instead, pivoting to face you. “What would you do? Would you stop hanging with him?”

“If you asked me, yes, I would.”

“Jesus, Gabrielle, no,” he sighs, and the sting in his chest is equal part anger and regret. The consistent stab that tears at him whenever you unwillingly reveal what you put yourself through.

He crosses the bedroom in two strides to come sit by your side on the edge of the bed.

“I’d never even consider asking you something like that, baby. Why would I–”

He trails off at your hardening face. 

You’ve straightened up in his t-shirt, and his eyes dart to your legs; with two fingers, he pinches the white sheet covering them to pull it down, revealing your underwear, and a purple mark in the shape of a pear that his mouth drew on your inner thigh this morning. 

He looks at it when he says, “You’re a free woman. And I know you’re mine.”

The contradiction settles like placid water in the amber light between your two bodies, inexplicably logical, perfectly natural. 

And the words come up in his chest, from his gut, an ancient rising tide. 

“I love you, Gabrielle.”

They ring out around you in the quiet bedroom, incongruous, not unpleasant. Warm, intimate, orange.

He loves you. Of course, he does. You know he does, you’ve always known. You’ve always loved him too. 

You’ve loved him young and carefree when it was easy and it was just the two of you. You’ve loved him to safety through countless godless nights. You’ve loved him back to you, you’ve loved him sinful and hurt, you’ve loved him without shame.

Yet, your breathing stops, your eyes widen. You remain silent. 

He lets out a disheartened chuckle, before the crease in his brow deepens and his whiskered jaw gives that telling tick that you dread. You follow his dark gaze, it’s strained on the mark on your thigh, and he swallows thickly, licking his lips and you can’t feel your legs.

“Please,” he murmurs, so low, nearly silent, and it’s right there, bright and burning against your ribcage, but it won’t come out, your mouth is too dry and your lips won’t open. 

He doesn’t lift up his eyes, instead his hand goes to your hip. He gives it a little squeeze, and you register the sensation, it travels up your body in slow ripples.

He pulls you in, sits you in his lap in a straddle, his hands roaming over your sides under his t-shirt. You let him seek the contact of your skin, how many times have the two of you sat like that? On the bed, on the floor, on the couch. In the truck or under a tent...

His denim feels too rough under your soft flesh. You recoil from the heat of his palms when he cups your face, but he catches you, firm and strong and he will never let go. 

His eyes are alight with unshed tears, or perhaps it is yours, because your vision blurs when they finally meet.  

“I need to hear you say it back. Please.”

In that tiled bathroom with the yellow light, all those years ago, you had nearly said it. To tame the wild look in his dark eyes when he had realised and briefly got scared. So early but not too soon, and the words had felt far too small in comparison to the feeling itself. You had chosen to soothe him with your touch. 

You’d been the hopeful one, then, trustful and fearless.  

Today, he is guiding you. With a light pressure of his thumb on your lower lip, the sharp edge of his nose brushing along your temple, his hand at the base of your neck grounding you, so you won’t go missing again. 

“It’s ok, baby,” he says, and you feel his words more than you hear them with the white noise filling your brain, “I know you do. Just say it. I got you.”

You close your eyes, inhale his scent. You take his hand.

“Je t’aime.”

****

[plethoraworldatlas]

In southern Brazil, especially the state of Rio Grande do Sul, severe flooding has caused an emergency being reported around the world. Human losses and homelessness there represent the biggest socioenvironmental catastrophe affecting the country.

One aspect that hasn’t yet garnered much media attention is the impact of these floods on rare and at-risk wildlife. For 11 years I worked on Marinheiros Island, situated on the estuary of Patos Lagoon in the heart of the now-flooded areas. On this island I identified the presence of three species of small vertebrates threatened with extinction, whose populations there are of great conservation importance.

Even before the current crisis, over the past few years, Marinheiros has experienced harsh flooding associated with massive rainfall. The floods are even more intense during El Niño phenomena, which produce heavy rain in southern Brazil. Three main factors there, together, result in the rapid rise of estuarine water levels and consequent flooding of the lagoon’s islands and marginal mainland:

The low elevations of marginal areas.

Heavy rains that increase the flow of rivers into the Patos Lagoon system and the subsequent discharge of water in the choked estuary.

Wind directions against the water flow from the estuary to the Atlantic Ocean, acting as a barrier for water discharging into the ocean.

The year 2023 saw a severe flood in Marinheiros Island and the marginal mainland of the Patos Lagoon estuary. This year has been even more calamitous. Flooding of 70% of the municipalities of Rio Grande do Sul — which includes the whole extension of the Patos Lagoon marginal zone — has, as of this writing, caused 149 people to lose their lives and forced more than 615,000 to leave their homes. Many of the more than 1,100 inhabitants of Marinheiros Island were rescued and sent to temporary shelters.

...

Floods, Vulnerability to Sea-Level Rise, and Loss of Habitats

Marinheiros Island is located in a low-elevation region. The estuarine glass snake and greater guinea pig are found in wet fields of the island’s marginal zone, where elevation does not exceed three meters (10 feet) above sea level. The red-bellied toad occurs in the marginal zone, in addition to more interior sandy fields and dunes, where elevations can reach about 10 meters (33 feet).

While the current rain-related floods are expected — and desired — to be a short-term condition, rising sea levels could cause the island to be permanently submerged. A study conducted in 2010 found that the entire marginal zone of Marinheiros Island — the area where these three species live — is highly susceptible to sea-level rise. This suggests that the ecosystems inhabited by these three small vertebrate species may be completely underwater in the next few decades.

The impacts of short-term floods on the red-bellied toad, estuarine glass snake and greater guinea pig remain unknown. These events induce disturbances to the species’ habitats, causing the loss of shelters and nesting sites and forcing individuals to migrate to more elevated island areas. In the tragic scenario of the sinking of the marginal lands, the species’ populations will indeed be forced to move to higher grounds.

[beardedmrbean]

SEOUL, July 19 (UPI) -- South Korea blasted loudspeakers near border areas with North Korea in response to Pyongyang's latest launch of trash-carrying balloons, Seoul's Joint Chiefs of Staff said Friday.

"As our military has issued several stern warnings against North Korea's continued distribution of waste balloons, we have conducted loudspeaker broadcasts against North Korea in areas where waste balloons have been released," the JCS said in a statement sent to reporters. The anti-Pyongyang broadcasts took place over several hours from Thursday evening into early Friday.

The South Korean military detected around 200 balloons sent by the North overnight Thursday, with some 40 balloons landing in northern Gyeonggi Province. Most were carrying paper and contained no safety hazards, the JCS said.

"Our military's future response will depend entirely on North Korea's actions," the JCS added.

The contents of the latest broadcasts were undisclosed, but previous sessions have included K-pop music and South Korean news reports.

Over the past several weeks, Pyongyang has sent more than 2,000 balloons carrying trash, manure and discarded clothes into the South. South Korean officials said that parasites such as roundworms and threadworms, believed to have originated in human excrement, were detected in the balloons' payloads.

Seoul briefly resumed propaganda broadcasts at the DMZ last month in response to the launches, as back-and-forth provocations have raised tensions across the inter-Korean border.

The North claims it is responding in kind to the longstanding practice of defector groups floating balloons with anti-Pyongyang leaflets and USB drives containing South Korean media over the border.

North Korea has reacted with fury in the past to the balloons. In June 2020, Pyongyang severed all communications with Seoul and blew up an inter-Korean liaison office over what it called South Korea's failure to rein in the defectors.

Earlier this week, Kim Yo Jong, the sister of North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, threatened "gruesome" consequences if the launches did not end.

Seoul's military on Wednesday said that North Korea has been ramping up activity in frontline areas of the DMZ in recent months, with soldiers clearing land, erecting barriers and planting tens of thousands of landmines. Defense officials warned of the possibility of mines being swept into the South due to heavy rainfalls or dam releases by the North.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

All hitherto existing modes of production have aimed merely at achieving the most immediately and directly useful effect of labour. The further consequences, which appear only later and become effective through gradual repetition and accumulation, were totally neglected. The original common ownership of land corresponded, on the one hand, to a level of development of human beings in which their horizon was restricted in general to what lay immediately available, and presupposed, on the other hand, a certain superfluity of land that would allow some latitude for correcting the possible bad results of this primeval type of economy. When this surplus land was exhausted, common ownership also declined. All higher forms of production, however, led to the division of the population into different classes and thereby to the antagonism of ruling and oppressed classes. Thus the interests of the ruling class became the driving factor of production, since production was no longer restricted to providing the barest means of subsistence for the oppressed people. This has been put into effect most completely in the capitalist mode of production prevailing today in Western Europe. The individual capitalists, who dominate production and exchange, are able to concern themselves only with the most immediate useful effect of their actions. Indeed, even this useful effect – inasmuch as it is a question of the usefulness of the article that is produced or exchanged – retreats far into the background, and the sole incentive becomes the profit to be made on selling. Classical political economy, the social science of the bourgeoisie, in the main examines only social effects of human actions in the fields of production and exchange that are actually intended. This fully corresponds to the social organisation of which it is the theoretical expression. As individual capitalists are engaged in production and exchange for the sake of the immediate profit, only the nearest, most immediate results must first be taken into account. As long as the individual manufacturer or merchant sells a manufactured or purchased commodity with the usual coveted profit, he is satisfied and does not concern himself with what afterwards becomes of the commodity and its purchasers. The same thing applies to the natural effects of the same actions. What cared the Spanish planters in Cuba, who burned down forests on the slopes of the mountains and obtained from the ashes sufficient fertiliser for one generation of very highly profitable coffee trees – what cared they that the heavy tropical rainfall afterwards washed away the unprotected upper stratum of the soil, leaving behind only bare rock! In relation to nature, as to society, the present mode of production is predominantly concerned only about the immediate, the most tangible result; and then surprise is expressed that the more remote effects of actions directed to this end turn out to be quite different, are mostly quite the opposite in character; that the harmony of supply and demand is transformed into the very reverse opposite[.]

Friedrich Engels, The Part played by Labour in the Transition from Ape to Man, 1876

[scotianostra]

15th February 1817 saw the birth in Glasgow of Robert Angus Smith.

You may not have heard of him, or maybe you read about him in my previous post? Anyway we have all heard of acid rain, defined by National Geographic magazine thus: “Acid rain describes any form of precipitation that contains high levels of nitric and sulfuric acids. It can also occur in the form of snow, fog, and tiny bits of dry material that settle to Earth.”

The words “acid rain” were coined as long ago as 1859 by Angus Smith, who seven years earlier had made the discovery that northern cities across Britain were suffering from rainfall that contained heavy pollutants that were the result of the burning of coal that was rich in sulphur. His research found that the worst-affected city was his home town of Glasgow.

Robert Angus Smith was born in Pollokshaws the seventh son and 12th child of John Smith, originally from Ayrshire, and his wife Janet, daughter of James Thomson who owned a mill at Strathaven in Lanarkshire.

His elder brother John was a big influence on Angus’s life. John eventually became a senior teacher at Perth Academy, and was himself a scientist who would research theories on colour and light. He encouraged his younger brother to read the works of Joseph Priestley, the pioneering English chemist, and Angus Smith was greatly influenced by Priestley’s writings.

He attended Glasgow University from the age of 13, apparently to prepare for a career in the Church of Scotland ministry, but he left without graduating and then became a tutor to families, first in Scotland and then in England. In 1839 he accompanied the Bridgeman family to Germany where he remained to study under the Professor Justus Liebeg, gaining his PhD in 1841.

On returning to England he took a post at Manchester Royal Institution as assistant to Lyon Playfair, an Indian-born Scot and a scientist and politician.

Playfair passed on his own interest in the sanitation of towns and cities to Angus Smith, who left the Institution to set up in business as an analytical chemist. As concern grew about pollution, his services were in demand, and in one famous experiment he waited until a crowded room had emptied then collected the residue on windows to prove that human breath exuded not just carbon dioxide but organic matter dangerous to health.

Smith once graphically described the effects of Manchester’s polluted atmosphere, in a letter to the Manchester Guardian published on November 2, 1844.

He wrote: “Coming in from the country last week on a beautiful morning, when the air was unusually clear and fresh, I was surprised to find Manchester was enjoying the atmosphere of a dark December day… Those who would defend such evils, who would remain careless as long as any probable cause is unremoved, must surely be devoid not only of mercy, but of clear perception and of good taste. The gloominess of uncleanness is everywhere around us.”

In 1851 he began the research that would make him the “father of acid rain” as he is often known. Smith proved that sulphur compounds in the air of towns and cities were the result of burning coal and coke transported in air and rainwater, and even as the industrial revolution was bringing more and more factories into being, Smith was arguing that manufacturers should be held responsible for their pollution.

He investigated poor housing and water quality, and published numerous papers that formed the basis of the developing science of environmental chemistry. One report on the problems of pollution for the Royal Mines Commission was particularly devastating in its scientific indictment of the polluters.

Smith was called as an expert witness in a court case over factory and mine pollution and his testimony was convincing. Consequently when the British Government decided to legislate – in the Alkali Act of 1863 – to try and cut pollution from mining and manufacturing, there was really only one man to turn to as the first chief of the alkali inspectorate and thus Smith spent much of the next two decades transforming attitudes to pollution.

In 1872 Smith published his Air and Rain, the beginnings of a Chemical Climatology, in which he collected the result of his experiments. It proved how ground-breaking his work had been.

With honorary degrees from both Glasgow and Edinburgh University, Angus Smith was honoured in his own lifetime. His health declined badly in his later years and he died at at Colwyn Bay, North Wales, on May 12, 1884, being buried in the churchyard of St Paul’s, Kersal, Manchester.

He was paid a most generous tribute in the first edition of Nature magazine following his death: “For upwards of 40 years he laboured unceasingly to show how chemistry might minister to the material comfort and physical well-being of men — not in the manufacture of new compounds useful in the arts, or in the establishment of new industries – but in raising the general standard of the health of communities by checking or counteracting the evils which have followed in the train of that enormous development of the manufacturing arts which is the boast of this century.

“In his true vocation, as the chemist of sanitary science, Smith worked alone, and we have yet to find the man on whom his mantle has fallen."

[globalwarmingupdates]

How to explore Global warming

Global warming refers to the long-term rise in Earth's average surface temperature due to human activities, primarily the release of greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide (CO2), methane (CH4), and nitrous oxide (N2O). These gases trap heat in the Earth's atmosphere, leading to a "greenhouse effect," which causes the planet to warm over time.

Causes of Global Warming:

Burning of Fossil Fuels: The combustion of coal, oil, and natural gas for energy and transportation releases large amounts of CO2 into the atmosphere.

Deforestation: Trees absorb CO2, and cutting them down reduces this capacity, while burning or decaying trees releases stored carbon.

Industrial Activities: Factories and other industrial processes emit various greenhouse gases.

Agriculture: Farming, particularly livestock production, produces methane, a potent greenhouse gas.

Waste Management: Decomposition of organic waste in landfills also releases methane.

Effects of Global Warming:

Rising Temperatures: Global average temperatures have increased by approximately 1.1°C (2°F) since the late 19th century, with significant consequences for ecosystems and weather patterns.

Melting Ice and Rising Sea Levels: Ice caps and glaciers are melting, contributing to rising sea levels, which threaten coastal communities.

Extreme Weather Events: Global warming increases the frequency and severity of extreme weather events, such as hurricanes, heatwaves, droughts, and heavy rainfall.

Impact on Ecosystems: Warmer temperatures affect biodiversity, with species migrating or going extinct, altering ecosystems.

Health Impacts: Heatwaves, air pollution, and changing disease patterns (e.g., the spread of tropical diseases) are increasing due to warmer conditions.

Mitigation and Adaptation:

Reducing Greenhouse Gas Emissions: Shifting to renewable energy sources like solar, wind, and hydropower, as well as improving energy efficiency, can help reduce emissions.

Carbon Sequestration: Reforestation and afforestation, as well as emerging technologies like carbon capture and storage (CCS), can remove CO2 from the atmosphere.

Climate Adaptation: Communities are developing strategies to cope with the impacts of global warming, such as building sea walls to protect against rising sea levels or altering agricultural practices to cope with changing climate conditions.

International Cooperation: Agreements like the Paris Agreement aim to limit global warming to well below 2°C, ideally 1.5°C, to avoid catastrophic climate change.to wellbeing threats.

[warningsine]

Hotels and homes destroyed, impassable roads and thousands of people cut off. This is how Acapulco, in the Mexican state of Guerrero, has been left after the passage of Hurricane Otis, the most powerful Pacific storm to make landfall on Mexican territory in the last 30 years. The cyclone, which in 12 hours went from a tropical storm to a category 5 hurricane, the highest possible classification, has left the popular tourist destination resembling a war zone with uprooted trees, debris, roofs torn off and buildings without walls. Neither the National Meteorological Service (SMN) nor local and federal authorities were able to predict the intensity of the hurricane. Scientists were also caught by surprise. The speed with which the cyclone intensified was unusual and forced Mexican authorities to issue an evacuation alert for the area just hours before Otis made landfall.

The SMN warned at 12:00 p.m. Tuesday, that the hurricane would reach Acapulco at 6:00 p.m. the following day. However, the storm arrived earlier than expected and devastated the coastal city at 12:25 a.m. Wednesday. Winds of more than 270 kilometers per hour (168 mph) hit the town and the state of Guerrero, one of the poorest in the country, destroying everything in their path. More than 500,000 people were left without electricity, internet and telephone connection in the early hours of the morning and only part of the service has so far been restored. The breakdown of communications has complicated access to the affected areas and there is still no official information on the number of victims and the amount of damage caused, although it is expected that material losses will amount to millions of dollars.

The unusual power of the hurricane has attracted the attention of the scientific community, which links the devastating power of Otis to the El Niño season, a phenomenon associated with changes in the atmosphere and the fluctuation of water temperature in the Pacific. “There is a hypothesis that it could be related to the rise in ocean temperature, which does not mean that there are more hurricanes, but it does mean that when there is one, the cyclone accelerates its formation by taking on more energy under these conditions,” explains Claudia Rojas of the Department of Process Engineering and Hydraulics of the Metropolitan Autonomous University (UAM).

There are those who point to a relationship between climate change and the strength of hurricanes, although the scientific community is still investigating the matter. “El Niño is inducing these cyclones to reach high categories. However, it is difficult to attribute the responsibility for Hurricane Otis to climate change,” says Christian Domínguez, a researcher at the Institute of Atmospheric Sciences of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). “What is known on a global scale is that with climate change there will be fewer hurricanes in the Pacific, but they will be more intense,” he adds. “With the information we currently have, it is not so clear that the intensity has to do with climate change because there are not so many historical records, although we have not ruled it out.”

After making landfall, Otis was downgraded to a tropical storm after depositing heavy rainfall in several states in central and southern Mexico. However, the threat has not yet passed. “The risk is not only posed by the strength of the winds. There are more dangers that such a phenomenon can entail, such as landslides and the flooding of rivers and streams,” says Domínguez. In Acapulco, some 20,000 people live in areas susceptible to flooding or landslides. The hurricane season in the Pacific begins around May 15 and ends around November 30, as such Guerrero could still experience the consequences of other cyclones, says Rojas. “Research work has shown that after a prolonged drought, very intense rainfall events occur, as is the case with tropical cyclones that can reach these [high] categories.”

Otis is not the first hurricane in recent years to strengthen so rapidly. In 2015, Tropical Storm Patricia escalated to a Category 5 hurricane in 10 hours. The difference with the current phenomenon was that it did so offshore, and authorities in the states of Jalisco, Colima and Nayarit were able to evacuate 50,000 people before it made landfall. The storm, catalogued by the SMN as “extremely dangerous” and by the media as the “largest in history,” quickly lost strength after making landfall in Mexican territory thanks to the mountainous system of the Sierra Madre Occidental, which eroded the outer ring of the cyclone and prevented greater damage and devastation. Guerrero, in this case, did not have the same luck.

Acapulco International Airport, which receives millions of tourists every year, has been completely flooded and suffered serious damage to its infrastructure, forcing the suspension of all flights. The main highways are also closed, preventing communications with Mexico City. Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador had ordered his Security Cabinet to go to the affected area, but on seeing the seriousness of the situation, he decided to personally supervise the rescue efforts himself. The Mexican army has initiated an emergency protocol and 37 shelters have been set up throughout the state for victims.

[rhian-008]

Nigeria: A Climate Change Crucible

Nigeria, a nation endowed with abundant natural resources and a burgeoning population, is increasingly grappling with the tempestuous challenges of climate change. This environmental crisis, exacerbated by a confluence of factors including deforestation, unsustainable agricultural practices, and rapid urbanization, is inflicting profound wounds upon the nation's social, economic, and ecological fabric.

The specter of climate change looms large over Nigeria, manifesting in a myriad of destructive forms. Extreme weather events, once episodic, have evolved into a recurring nightmare. Flooding, an annual scourge, has escalated in severity, displacing millions and causing billions of naira in damages (National Emergency Management Agency, 2023). The Niger Delta, a region historically enriched by oil, is now experiencing accelerated coastal erosion, threatening the livelihoods of coastal communities and compromising critical infrastructure. In stark contrast, the arid north contends with prolonged droughts and desertification, a malevolent duo that is fueling food insecurity, mass migration, and socio-political tensions.

Agriculture, the lifeblood of the Nigerian economy and the sustenance of millions, is under siege. Erratic rainfall patterns, soil degradation, and the proliferation of pests have conspired to decimate crop yields. The World Bank (2022) reports a significant decline in agricultural productivity, with far-reaching consequences for food security and rural livelihoods. The nexus between climate change and food insecurity is a perilous one, as it creates fertile ground for social unrest and conflict.

Beyond the economic toll, climate change is exacting a heavy price on public health. The rising temperatures provide optimal conditions for the breeding of disease-carrying vectors, such as mosquitoes, resulting in a surge of malaria and other vector-borne illnesses (World Health Organization, 2021). Moreover, the interplay of water scarcity, poor sanitation, and flooding has led to an upsurge in waterborne diseases, further straining an already overburdened healthcare system.

The economic repercussions of climate change are far-reaching and profound. The agricultural sector, a cornerstone of the Nigerian economy, is experiencing a steady decline, impacting food prices, rural incomes, and overall economic growth. The World Bank estimates that climate change could reduce Nigeria's GDP by several percentage points by mid-century (World Bank, 2018). Beyond agriculture, the tourism industry, a nascent but promising sector, is facing headwinds due to the increasing unpredictability of weather patterns and the degradation of natural attractions.

The response to this existential threat has been a complex interplay of governmental initiatives, civil society engagement, and individual actions. While the government has articulated policies and strategies to address climate change, such as the National Adaptation Strategy and Climate Change Action Plan, implementation has been uneven and often hindered by bureaucratic inertia and corruption. However, some states, notably Lagos and Cross River, have demonstrated a more proactive approach to climate resilience.

Civil society organizations have emerged as vocal champions of climate action. Groups like the Nigerian Conservation Foundation, Friends of the Earth Nigeria, and Health of Mother Earth Foundation have been instrumental in raising awareness, advocating for policy reforms, and implementing community-based adaptation projects. These organizations have played a pivotal role in bridging the gap between government and the populace, fostering a culture of environmental stewardship.

At the individual level, awareness of climate change is growing, but behavioral change remains a challenge. While there are isolated examples of eco-conscious citizens, the broader populace is yet to fully internalize the urgency of the crisis.

A constellation of factors impedes Nigeria's progress in combating climate change. Poverty, a pervasive challenge, limits the adaptive capacity of vulnerable communities. Weak governance, characterized by corruption and inefficiency, undermines policy implementation. The country's heavy reliance on fossil fuels complicates the transition to a low-carbon economy. Moreover, a dearth of technological capacity and expertise hampers the development and deployment of climate solutions.

Despite these formidable obstacles, there are glimmers of hope. A growing number of young Nigerians are emerging as climate leaders, demanding bold action and inspiring hope for the future. Individuals like Naomi Ageli and Isioma Osakwe have galvanized youth activism, leveraging social media and grassroots organizing to drive change.

Addressing the climate crisis in Nigeria demands a comprehensive and multi-faceted approach. A swift and just transition to renewable energy is imperative to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and ensure energy access for all. Investing in sustainable agriculture, including agroforestry and water-efficient irrigation practices, is crucial for bolstering food security and resilience. Ecosystem restoration, such as reforestation and mangrove rehabilitation, can help mitigate climate impacts and protect biodiversity. Early warning systems for extreme weather events are essential for saving lives and minimizing economic losses. Finally, investing in climate education and awareness is indispensable for building a climate-resilient society.

Nigeria stands at a critical juncture. The choices made today will shape the nation's future for generations to come. By embracing sustainable development, investing in climate solutions, and fostering a culture of environmental stewardship, Nigeria can transition from being a victim of climate change to a leader in climate action.

[gt-preys]

Puddles

Giant Billy x tiny Steve

--------

It's raining heavily for the first time in months.

The clear sky had darkened quickly, pleasant blue skies becoming overtaken by dull grey clouds which opened up to drench the world below.

Unfortunately for Steve he had left his umbrella at home. It had only taken one large droplet to soak Steve though to the bone. Not that he's suprised by that. It's to be expected when you're only four inches tall.

Sure, being tiny has its perks but dealing with the weather is not one of them. It's very easy for tinies to overheat, get cold quickly and such but the worst comes with the rain.

It's not unheard of for a tiny to be swept away by a sudden rainfall, disappear down a weather drain or god forbid, drown in a shallow pool of rainwater.

Steve's usually cautious of the weather, but today it slipped his mind. Today he hadn't checked the forecast and now he's dealing with the consequences.

His clothes are heavy where they hang off of his frame, the fabric sticks to his skin and makes him feel cold and clammy.

He should be paying more attention to where he's walking, but his mind drifts and wanders, excited at the prospect of getting home. Already stuck on the idea of warming up by the fire or maybe he'd heat up some of the stew he made from the night before, that would certainly warm him up.

Steve's thrown from his thoughts as the floor beneath his foot disappears, sending him forwards into a dip in the path that he hadn't noticed. A puddle. Cold water envelopes him as his body hits the surface. He coughs and sputters as he resurfaces, legs kicking in a desperate attempt to keep himself above water.

Steve swims to the edge of the puddle, clawing at the rough concrete wall as he tries to pull himself back up onto the path. But it's useless and he slips back into the water. "Help!" He cries out through a rough cough "I'm stuck!"

To his suprise a pair of black boots come to a stop at the edge of the puddle. "Hey! Down here!" He yells frantically. "Calm down, I see you" comes a smooth voice from way up above. Steve can't see much more than a silhouette with how dark it is and how tall the figure is.

The figure in question crouches down to get closer to the pavement. "Got yourself in a bit of trouble there, haven't you" the voice chuckles. Steve wants to bite back that he doesn't find this funny. But he doesn't, too thankful to see large fingers reaching towards him.

Steve's not a fan of being manhandled but right now he'll put up with it if it means finally getting out of the frigid water.

"Be careful" please. His voice is soft with an edge of nerves as thick fingers pinch beneath his armpits. "Don't worry, I've got you" the voice is softer this time he speaks, reassuring as the giant plucks Steve from the water.

The tiny grips the fingers as he's raised up, his stomach rolls as he's moved. The fingers deposit him into an open palm, the skin beneath him is warm against his shivering form. "There we go" the voice mumbles, a finger gently brushing down his back.

Finally looking up at his saviour Steve is a little in awe to find that the giant is in fact a very handsome man.

Big blue eyes roam over the tiny in his hand. A pretty tanned face is framed by long blonde curls, a moustache sits above a pair of full pink lips.

"You like what you see, pretty boy?" Those pink lips part to flash him a grin full of white teeth. Heat rises in Steve's cheeks at the giant's words. Pretty boy. "I um... thanks for helping me" he mumbles shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he dodges the giant's question.

Of all the times a good looking guy could notice him, it had to be when he almost drowned in a puddle of all things. Smooth Steve, smooth.

"No worries" the giant chuckles as he moves to stand back up. Steve gasps, hands planting firmly against the palm to stabilise himself. "Would have been cruel of me to just leave you like that" the giant moves to hold Steve so the two can be face to face.

"Besides, it's not like I'm not getting something for my troubles" the blonde grins and Steve frowns in confusion. "What?" He tilts his head at the words. Steve's oblivious reaction seems to spurn the giant on, his grin stretching even wider. "Well, I think I deserve a little reward for saving you and you need to warm up. If you catch my drift" he raises an eyebrow at the tiny.

Steve shrinks back a little as it dawns on him what this giant is suggesting. "I-I'm not really sure...about that" he stammers nervously "I don't even know you." Steve had only really been stored once before and even then it had been out of a mutual curiosity between himself and his friend Eddie. Eddie had decided he enjoyed the experience and went on to share the experience with his little sweetheart Chrissy. Steve however, was still on the fence about the whole situation.

The giant's grin softens to something sweeter, more charming. "I'm Billy. Do I get to know your name now or should I just keep calling you pretty boy?" Once again Billy has Steve blushing.

"It's Steve. I mean me, I'm Steve" he introduces himself, watching as the giant repeats his name as if testing it out. "I like it, it suits you" Billy smiles.

"See, now we know each other a bit better" he chuckles. It's obvious to him that the tiny is still hesitant on the idea. "You don't have to say yes" he starts, drawing the tiny's attention "I can put you in my pocket, but I can't guarantee that it'll be comfortable or warm" he runs a gentle finger down Steve's back.

Steve can't help but relax under those soft blue eyes. "You're just gonna store me, right?" He worries his lip. He feels insane for even considering giving in to Billy's request. He's a total stranger! "Just storing" the blonde confirms with a small smile "just till I can get home and dry you off, I promise" Billy holds out his pinky to Steve. The digit is almost the same size as Steve, pulling a laugh from the tiny man. "Promise" Steve agrees, holding the tip of Billy's pinky with both of his hands.

"Alright, pretty boy" Billy smiles, pulling his finger back "you ready?" He asks and Steve can't help but feel appreciative that the blonde is checking in with him, not just throwing him straight in at the deep end.

Steve nods stiffly "y-yeah. Yeah, I am" his words are laced with anxiety but he doesn't feel the need to back out.

"Okay then" Steve swallows as Billy moves his hand closer to his face, squeezing his eyes shut as warm air wafts over him. The smell of cigarettes and minty breath hit him and then there's a gentle press to the top of his head, Steve frowns, opening his eyes as Billy pulls back. "Relax, Steve" Billy mumbles softly and all he can see are those plush pink lips. The tiny's cheeks darken as he realises what has just occured.

Billy had kissed him. Only on the top of his head, but still. A kiss is a kiss. Especially from someone so handsome.

"I like that" the blonde rumbles with a chuckle "pink looks good on you, pretty boy" he says referring to the man's flushed pink cheeks.

Billy moves forwards once more, this time his lips part to allow his tongue to slip out, the slick red muscle drags up Steve's cheek. The blonde pulls back, tongue retreating back between his lips with a pleased hum. "You taste just as sweet as you look" Billy compliments appreciatively and to Steve's suprise he finds himself flustered by the odd compliment. "Oh um thank you" he replies with a huffed laugh. This man made him feel so strange.

He's handsome, charming and so warm it makes Steve feel soft.

He's not one for being held but he can't help but think that maybe he wouldn't mind it so much if Billy's the one holding him.

Billy's free hand returns, his thumb and forefinger pinching the tiny once more beneath his arms. "Don't worry pretty boy, I'll take good care of you" he's raised up above Billy's face as the giant tilts his head back. Steve's grateful that the street is empty and it's dark out. He'd probably die if someone were to witness this.

Sure, storing is fairly normalised. But it's still something usually done in private. It's a pretty intimate thing after all. Something typically reserved for partners, not random strangers.

Steve looks down, to watch Billy's lips part once again. Opening wide to reveal a seemingly endless cavernous maw. His tongue slips out to meet the tiny's legs halfway. It trails along his calves as he's lowered into the giant's mouth. Soft pink lips close around his waist, holding his body in place as the fingers leave his body.

Billy exhales through his nose, a pleased hum vibrates through the tiny. Steve swallows nervously, his hands coming to rest against the plush flesh of the man's top lip. A finger comes to rest against the top of Steve's head, looking across Billy's face the tiny finds those blue eyes staring back at him, half lidded in a lazy pleased look.

The finger gives a light press and Steve slips his arms between Billy's lips as the giant begins to feed more of the tiny's body into his mouth. Steve passes easily between his lips, slipping onto his tongue and sending a burst of flavour across his taste buds. Billy rights his head and begins to walk as he laps at the tiny.

Steve gasps as the tongue begins to drag over him, sweeping against the small amounts of bare skin. He twists onto his stomach in order to get more comfortable. His palms sink into the soft squishy muscle beneath him. Curiously he brushes his hand across the muscle drawing a groan from the back of Billy's throat.

The tongue below bucks upwards to pin Steve to the roof of the giant's mouth, pressing into the tiny's form as it drags back and forth. The motion draws a gasp of surprise from Steve, not having expected the sudden shift. The muscle holds him firmly in place as Billy swallows around him, the suction pulling at him but he remains in place.

Billy lets him back down for one more round of tasting as he crosses the road, hands slipping into his pockets as he walks. From the outside no one would even guess that he's doing anything more than sucking on a hard candy. No one would even know Steve's in there. It's Billy's little secret.

He quite likes the idea of that.

Steve hidden in plain sight.

What a thought.

Billy places his hand against his neck, pausing in his walk for a moment as he tilts his head back, feeling Steve's small form slide to the back of his mouth. Then with a soft swallow the little weight on his tongue disappears and soon a lump is pressing outwards into his palm as it slips down his throat and behind his collarbone. The blonde releases a small blissful sigh, allowing his eyes to slip closed.

He enjoys the feeling of Steve slipping into his stomach. "You really hit the spot, pretty boy" he jokes with a grin, finally opening his eyes to start walking again. "How are you holding up?"

Steve drops into Billy's stomach, sinking into the soft folds around him. Billy's voice rumbles around him and he finds himself relaxing into the warmth the stomach offers him. "I'm doing good" he calls back "this isn't actually that bad." He's suprised at his own admittance. Steve runs his hand along the wall he leans against.

Billy gasps at the touch, a chuckle building in his chest. "Damn, don't say that stuff" he grins "might tempt me to do this again" he jokes, giving his stomach a gentle rub.

"You'd have to see me again to do that" Steve points out shyly to which Billy hums " I do want to see you again" he confirms and Steve pauses in his motions. Billy wanted to see him again... "Though I'd prefer it if next time we could meet up over dinner maybe" Billy says softly, testing the waters.

"Like...a date?" Steve's face feels warm as he asks for clarification. "If you'd like that" the two are silent for a moment and Billy's almost tempted to retract his words when Steve finally speaks up. "I'd like that" he smiles softly to himself, sinking into the stomach wall. "Cool" Billy replies with false nonchalance, though a wide grin stretches his lips.

Good, he hadn't misread their interactions.

"Y'know, it's pretty late" the blonde acknowledges, his apartment complex finally comes into view. "If you'd be alright with it, maybe I could keep you stored for tonight and we could have breakfast together in the morning?" His hand continues its gentle ministrations.

"I'd like that..." comes the soft reply.

It's not the perfect first meeting that most couples get to tell, but if you asked Steve it's a pretty damn good love at first sight tale. Though Billy tells him he can lie about how they met, Steve is adamant in telling their story truthfully.

It's dorky, embarrassing and yet oh so fitting for the tiny and his giant boyfriend.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[mariacallous]

If you stood on the banks of the Cache la Poudre River in Colorado after the 2020 Cameron Peak Fire, the rumbling water may have appeared black. This slurry of ash and charred soil cascaded toward the reservoirs that supply drinking water for the downstream city of Fort Collins, home to around 170,000 people. Although the water looked clear again several weeks later, Charles Rhoades, a research biogeochemist at the US Forest Service Rocky Mountain Research Station, says he is still seeing contaminants from the fire in the watershed.

Recent studies have found that while some watersheds begin to recover within five years of a fire, others may be fundamentally altered, never fully returning to their pre-fire conditions. And with wildfires becoming more common, much larger, and burning for longer as the world warms, hydrologists, ecologists, and water-management officials are scrambling to understand and mitigate the consequences fire-contaminated water can have on humans and ecosystems.

In a healthy forest, there’s a lot of “litter” on the ground—pine needles, dead leaves, debris. “It acts like a sponge,” says Rhoades. “As rainfall comes in, it moves through that layer slowly and can trickle into the soil.” When fires scorch the land, they burn that vegetation and organic matter, leaving behind a bare landscape that’s highly susceptible to erosion. Instead of filtering into the ground, rain will slide right off the surface, moving quickly, picking up soil, and carrying it into streams and rivers. Not only does this cause sediment build-up, but it can disrupt the water chemistry. Rhoades found elevated levels of nutrients, like nitrogen, in rivers almost 15 years after a high-severity fire. These nutrients can lead to harmful algal blooms, although they don’t directly impact drinking water quality. But other sites show increased levels of heavy metals like manganese, iron, and even lead after a major fire, which can complicate water-treatment processes.

Other regions across the western US, like Taos, New Mexico, and Santa Cruz, California, have faced similar issues, as wildfires increase in frequency and duration due to climate change and decades of fire-suppression practices. For much of the 20th century, the US Forest Service and other land management agencies aimed to keep all fires from burning, believing it was the best way to protect forests. But naturally occuring, low-severity fires improve forest health, preventing the accumulation of dense underbrush and dead trees that act as fuel.

“We have this huge buildup of fuel on the landscape from 140 years of fire suppression, and we know that the consequences of that—combined with increases in severe weather—make the likelihood of really intense fire behavior much higher than it used to be,” says Alissa Cordner, an environmental sociologist and professor at Whitman College in Washington state and volunteer wildland firefighter. “We also have more and more people living next to forests and migrating to places in the wildland-urban interface.” Any municipality is at risk of water contamination if a wildfire burns through its watershed.

“Consumers rarely know about all this stuff that’s going on under the hood,” says Rhoades. After a wildfire, water providers work tirelessly to ensure residents don’t experience the effects in their taps, which requires collaboration between land agencies, like the Forest Service, USGS, and local governing bodies. They perform regular water testing, install sediment-control structures, and sometimes, alter water treatment protocols to deal with the increased load of contaminants.

Sediment is one of the biggest concerns for utilities managers, as it clogs up filtration systems that prepare water for treatment. “We have to slow down the treatment process for sediment to drop out,” says Alison Witheridge, watershed planning manager at Denver Water. “It takes more energy and more chemicals to treat the water.” When there’s too much sediment, water-treatment plants can’t take that water, says Rhoades.

After the 2012 Hayman Fire, the Poudre river had so much sediment that the water provider needed to temporarily switch to an alternative water supply. Carbon, another wildfire contaminant, can cause serious problems for water managers, too. “When you chlorinate that water in a treatment plant, you can create some carcinogenic compounds,” says Rhoades. “So if you get big pulses of carbon going into treatment plants, especially ones that aren’t used to that, they have problems.”

Municipalities with simple water-treatment plants that pull water from one source may be at the greatest risk. “If you rely on a really clean water supply, your treatment plant is not really super extensive because you don’t need it, right?” says Sheila Murphy, research hydrologist for the USGS. “So some watersheds, if there ever is a huge impact, they’re not set up for that. Now that we’re getting more fires in areas that aren’t used to fires, that’s a big challenge for water providers.”

But keeping the watershed clean is only one piece of the puzzle. If a fire damages infrastructure, cities may have to deal with potential chemical contamination from burnt pipes. When the Marshall Fire swept through Louisville, Colorado, in 2021, it left hundreds of homes and buildings burned. The city knew about the risks of burned infrastructure from the experiences in fire-impacted communities like Paradise, California, so they initiated a large water-sampling campaign to test for volatile organic compounds (VOCs) and semi-volatile organic compounds (SVOCs), two common fire-related contaminants and carcinogens.

“This systematic testing and flushing allowed the city to clear neighborhood by neighborhood, block by block, and house by house,” says Cory Peterson, deputy director of utilities for the City of Louisville. “The water-distribution system was able to come back relatively quickly, but we also wanted to make sure the individual service lines to homes were safe.” They continued to test throughout the home-rebuild process and created an interactive map for the community to see their property’s water-quality status.

While cities now have many tools and extensive knowledge to adequately respond in an emergency, “the long-term effects that these ecosystem shifts have on our water supply is sort of unknown and underexplored,” says Matt Ross, an ecosystem scientist and assistant professor at Colorado State University.

Proper response and rehabilitation is tricky because it depends on the region’s terrain, existing water supply, and infrastructure. The USGS is currently performing research in California, Oregon, New Mexico, Montana, and Colorado to see how each region’s watershed responds. “Some places may be more resilient to the effects of fire, whereas in some areas where you have extreme storms, such as New Mexico, we often see a very large sediment response that can cause a lot of damage and fill reservoirs,” says Murphy.

In addition to geology and precipitation, there’s also land use to consider. “Are there legacy mines in the region or is there agricultural use? Are there urban-wildland interfaces? All those factors will affect what you see in the watershed,” she says. Once their research is complete, they hope to give water providers a better idea of what the potential risks are for a particular region so cities can better prepare.

Data collection and monitoring are also essential, says Ross, who has been working to install remote sensors in streams to measure water quality in real time. These sensors are increasingly common and capture basic parameters like dissolved oxygen, acidity, and suspended sediment. “It’s really helpful to know what’s coming into the system and can provide an early warning,” says Witheridge.

There’s also the long-term work that extends years after the fire itself. Land managers may plant trees to stabilize soils or establish vegetation closer to streams and restore watershed function, says Rhoades. And there’s work on the front end, too, like tree thinning and forest clean-up to prevent fires—or at least keep them from reaching high severity.

Overall, there is a shift toward a more holistic approach to fire management. “We’re thinking about the impacts of fire not just in how many acres burned or how many structures destroyed, but what happens to watersheds or what happens to the health of people in smoky communities a thousand miles away,” says Cordner. “All of those ripple effects do raise a sense of urgency for us to do as much mitigation work as we can.”