#ocean blue commentary

[feralthembo]

friend got a front row seat to watching me work on a background and it confirmed my theory that learning how to do those things where ppl can see me doing my art in real time would be a thing i could possibly benefit from

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An open copyright casebook, featuring AI, Warhol and more

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Few debates invite more uninformed commentary than "IP" – a loosely defined grab bag that regulates an ever-expaning sphere of our daily activities, despite the fact that almost no one, including senior executives in the entertainment industry, understands how it works.

Take reading a book. If the book arrives between two covers in the form of ink sprayed on compressed vegetable pulp, you don't need to understand the first thing about copyright to read it. But if that book arrives as a stream of bits in an app, those bits are just the thinnest scrim of scum atop a terminally polluted ocean of legalese.

At the bottom layer: the license "agreement" for your device itself – thousands of words of nonsense that bind you not to replace its software with another vendor's code, to use the company's own service depots, etc etc. This garbage novella of legalese implicates trademark law, copyright, patent, and "paracopyrights" like the anticircumvention rule defined by Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/eff-lawsuit-takes-dmca-section-1201-research-and-technology-restrictions-violate

Then there's the store that sold you the ebook: it has its own soporific, cod-legalese nonsense that you must parse; this can be longer than the book itself, and it has been exquisitely designed by the world's best-paid, best-trained lawyer to liquefy the brains of anyone who attempts to read it. Nothing will save you once your brains start leaking out of the corners of your eyes, your nostrils and your ears – not even converting the text to a brilliant graphic novel:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/03/03/terms-and-conditions-the-bloviating-cruft-of-the-itunes-eula-combined-with-extraordinary-comic-book-mashups/

Even having Bob Dylan sing these terms will not help you grasp them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/25/musical-chairs/#subterranean-termsick-blues

The copyright nonsense that accompanies an ebook transcends mere Newtonian physics – it exists in a state of quantum superposition. For you, the buyer, the copyright nonsense appears as a license, which allows the seller to add terms and conditions that would be invalidated if the transaction were a conventional sale. But for the author who wrote that book, the copyright nonsense insists that what has taken place is a sale (which pays a 25% royalty) and not a license (a 50% revenue-share). Truly, only a being capable of surviving after being smeared across the multiverse can hope to embody these two states of being simultaneously:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/21/early-adopters/#heads-i-win

But the challenge isn't over yet. Once you have grasped the permissions and restrictions placed upon you by your device and the app that sold you the ebook, you still must brave the publisher's license terms for the ebook – the final boss that you must overcome with your last hit point and after you've burned all your magical items.

This is by no means unique to reading a book. This bites us on the job, too, at every level. The McDonald's employee who uses a third-party tool to diagnose the problems with the McFlurry machine is using a gadget whose mere existence constitutes a jailable felony:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Meanwhile, every single biotech researcher is secretly violating the patents that cover the entire suite of basic biotech procedures and techniques. Biotechnicians have a folk-belief in "patent fair use," a thing that doesn't exist, because they can't imagine that patent law would be so obnoxious as to make basic science into a legal minefield.

IP is a perfect storm: it touches everything we do, and no one understands it.

Or rather, almost no one understands it. A small coterie of lawyers have a perfectly fine grasp of IP law, but most of those lawyers are (very well!) paid to figure out how to use IP law to screw you over. But not every skilled IP lawyer is the enemy: a handful of brave freedom fighters, mostly working for nonprofits and universities, constitute a resistance against the creep of IP into every corner of our lives.

Two of my favorite IP freedom fighters are Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle, who run the Duke Center for the Public Domain. They are a dynamic duo, world leading demystifiers of copyright and other esoterica. They are the creators of a pair of stunningly good, belly-achingly funny, and extremely informative graphic novels on the subject, starting with the 2008 Bound By Law, about fair use and film-making:

https://www.dukeupress.edu/Bound-by-Law/

And then the followup, THEFT! A History of Music:

https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

Both of which are open access – that is to say, free to download and share (you can also get handsome bound print editions made of real ink sprayed on real vegetable pulp!).

Beyond these books, Jenkins and Boyle publish the annual public domain roundups, cataloging the materials entering the public domain each January 1 (during the long interregnum when nothing entered the public domain, thanks to the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, they published annual roundups of all the material that should be entering the public domain):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

This year saw Mickey Mouse entering the public domain, and Jenkins used that happy occasion as a springboard for a masterclass in copyright and trademark:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

But for all that Jenkins and Boyle are law explainers, they are also law professors and as such, they are deeply engaged with minting of new lawyers. This is a hard job: it takes a lot of work to become a lawyer.

It also takes a lot of money to become a lawyer. Not only do law-schools charge nosebleed tuition, but the standard texts set by law-schools are eye-wateringly expensive. Boyle and Jenkins have no say over tuitions, but they have made a serious dent in the cost of those textbooks. A decade ago, the pair launched the first open IP law casebook: a free, superior alternative to the $160 standard text used to train every IP lawyer:

https://web.archive.org/web/20140923104648/https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

But IP law is a moving target: it is devouring the world. Accordingly, the pair have produced new editions every couple of years, guaranteeing that their free IP law casebook isn't just the best text on the subject, it's also the most up-to-date. This week, they published the sixth edition:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

The sixth edition of Intellectual Property: Law & the Information Society – Cases & Materials; An Open Casebook adds sections on the current legal controversies about AI, and analyzes blockbuster (and batshit) recent Supreme Court rulings like Vidal v Elster, Warhol v Goldsmith, and Jack Daniels v VIP Products. I'm also delighted that they chose to incorporate some of my essays on enshittification (did you know that my Pluralistic.net newsletter is licensed CC Attribution, meaning that you can reprint and even sell it without asking me?).

(On the subject of Creative Commons: Boyle helped found Creative Commons!)

Ten years ago, the Boyle/Jenkins open casebook kicked off a revolution in legal education, inspiring many legals scholars to create their own open legal resources. Today, many of the best legal texts are free (as in speech) and free (as in beer). Whether you want to learn about trademark, copyright, patents, information law or more, there's an open casebook for you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/14/angels-and-demons/#owning-culture

The open access textbook movement is a stark contrast with the world of traditional textbooks, where a cartel of academic publishers are subjecting students to the scammiest gambits imaginable, like "inclusive access," which has raised the price of textbooks by 1,000%:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/07/markets-in-everything/#textbook-abuses

Meanwhile, Jenkins and Boyle keep working on this essential reference. The next time you're tempted to make a definitive statement about what IP permits – or prohibits – do yourself (and the world) a favor, and look it up. It won't cost you a cent, and I promise you you'll learn something.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/30/open-and-shut-casebook/#stop-confusing-the-issue-with-relevant-facts

Image: Cryteria (modified) Jenkins and Boyle https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous. 

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning. 

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe. 

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned. 

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ‘em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”  Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile. 

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot. 

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

[sailorrhansol]

Storm Breaker | Teaser (l.jh)

❀ Pairing: Lee Jihoon x reader  

❀ Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the Jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise. 

❀ Word Count: ~23k

❀ Genre: SciFi, Rivals to Lovers  

❀ Type: Pacific Rim AU, Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: TBD

❀ A/N: A fun little project me and @daechwitatamic decided to collab on :) coming to a Shatterdome near you soon. Also - this is set in the Pacific Rim Universe but I'm writing it in a way that you will not need to have seen the movie to understand.

❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

Read Full Fic Now

“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”

The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.” 

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city. 

Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of. 

Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju. 

Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.

A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control. 

Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.

Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor. 

Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others. 

And he hates you for it.

-

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World: a Flickering Hope (m) | myg

every nation seems at war with themselves and everyone, but you and Yoongi manage to stay alive. Until the inevitable catches up to you and you desperately seek help. Will you find it before time runs out?

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: post-apocalyptic, dystopian, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and minor smut with a very small sprinkle of comedy and hope for the future. → Tropes: established relationship → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 4k (it’s a shortie 🤭) → Warnings + triggers: protected sex (it’s very minor and not very detailed like I normally do), nuclear war (bombings), exposure to radiation, cancer (talks about treatment and cures (yes in this story there’s a cure for cancer 🥹)), dystopian world, everything is a wasteland, factions and segregation (the elite/rich vs everyone else),there’s also a bit of social commentary in it, anxiety attacks, hyperventilation, time skips, hope. It’s still angsty and grim, lol, but with a hopeful ending! → Author’s note(1): it got short (compared to what I usually write lol). It serves as a bridge between the first story (end of the world) and the spinoff (whalien52). I hope you enjoy it even though it’s short, and if you enjoy this dystopian world, I recommend reading the spinoff (it’s with Jimin as the male lead though).  → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue

“It feels like we’re at the end of the world,” you murmur, gazing out at the blue ocean, mesmerized that at least something still looks the same. The rest of the landscape is a stark contrast, a wasteland ravaged by endless bombings.

“Yeah, it kinda does,” Yoongi muses with a chuckle, gently nudging your shoulder.

“Do you think this war will ever stop?” you ask, hope mingled with despair. Over half a year has passed since the first bomb fell, and now it seems every nation is at war with itself and each other.

“When there aren’t more people left, maybe,” he replies, his voice rough, the morbid truth hanging heavily between you. The powerful few seem intent on death and destruction, and everyone else is left to suffer and die.

“I don’t get it. The whole world is going to die at this point,” you say, sagging to the ground beside Yoongi.

“True. But we’re not the ones in power. We can’t do anything about it,” Yoongi says, his voice steady and calm.

“They say on the radio that almost all countries are affected and there isn’t much land left like we used to know,” he adds, a frown etched on his face.

“God. I don’t want to listen to the radio anymore. I get so depressed hearing about it all,” you groan, “I almost want to throw the damn thing into the ocean. But it’s our only lifeline to civilization, I guess.”

He chuckles, “I get it. It’s fine if you don’t want to listen to the news. I’ll listen for you and tell you the important information if there’s any.”

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

“Maybe we should move again,” Yoongi suggests. You both rise, packing your things and bags.

As you walk through the desolate land, the forests and bushes burned and charred, the road made bumpy by explosions, the sky alternates between a bright blue on days without bombings and a dark shade of gray whenever there’s more bombs falling.

But just seeing the blue sky on some days gives you a fragile flicker of hope for the future. Maybe things will be alright in the end? Are you delusional for thinking that? For still wanting things to go back to the way they were before the war? Deep down, you know it’s impossible to rewind time, yet you can’t help but yearn for a chance to prevent all this devastation. You’re neither a politician nor a soldier, nor do you want to be, but sometimes you wish you had their power and autonomy.

Rumors swirl about the remnants of your government reaching out to other nations for help, but with the entire world reduced to a wasteland, there’s no aid to be found, no refuge to seek. You glance down at your battered feet and worn shoes, the ash and dirt mingling in a grim testament to your journey. The sight makes you frown. Where should you head to now? The question hangs in the air, as heavy and uncertain as the gray clouds that often blot out the sun.

Honestly, you don’t know where you’re going— to safety? What is safety even in a world where every country is at war?

— 2 years later

You don’t know how, maybe through sheer luck, but you and Yoongi have managed to survive the worst of the war. Over two harrowing years of constant bombings, the omnipresent fear of death, and relentless fighting for your lives. Every minute has been a nightmare, an unending torment.

But now, there’s been an eerie silence. 

The bombings have ceased, and the world seems quieter—too quiet. You suspect there aren’t many people left. Most are probably dead. Only the lucky, the hardened survivalists like you and Yoongi, have made it this far. You’ve heard rumors about the wealthy sequestered in their bomb-proof bunkers. How fortunate for them. A shame you couldn’t afford such luxuries. Yoongi’s house lacked such a feature. It would’ve been nice to have been spared from this massacre, to have been sheltered from the relentless horrors.

You and Yoongi have set up camp in a desolate wasteland. Nature is gone, replaced by a sandy, barren expanse. You’ve made a small bonfire to keep warm—it’s the middle of winter now. Though you have each other to stay warm at night, a fire is always a welcome comfort, even if it risks attracting unwanted attention. But you’re prepared for that. You still have your weapons, and Yoongi has taught you to aim better. You feel a grim satisfaction in being prepared, wishing you’d taken such precautions before the bombings. But it’s never too late to learn, right?

“Have you heard any news about civilization?” you ask Yoongi, warming your hands over the small fire.

“Only that people are trying to gather and rebuild slowly… but they don’t agree on how things should be, now that the regular government has fallen,” he shrugs, his shoulders weighed down by the burdens of survival. Yoongi has been your rock since you met, always listening to the radio for news when it depresses you too much.

“Figures,” you pout, rolling your eyes. “There’s probably going to be a fight for power,” you chuckle bitterly. It wouldn’t surprise you. People are so fucking predictable. You don’t want a part of it, but if it affects you, you’ll do whatever you must to live comfortably.

“I hate what this has done to nature,” Yoongi sulks, kicking sand into the fire in frustration. “I mean, I miss the trees. The green colors. Even grass. That feeling of being barefoot on grass. I miss it so much.”

You nod, agreeing completely. God, you miss that too. Or a nice shower. Damn. You haven’t had one since Yoongi’s house. The thought makes you sad, makes you clench your fists in anger. 

You hate this world and everything it has become.

Sometimes you wonder if it would have been better to die, like your friends. But you quickly banish those thoughts. It’s not fair to your friends or to everyone else who’s dead. You’re alive, and you have to make the best of it, even though everything sucks and nothing will ever be the same again.

“I also miss sleeping in a bed. Like on a nice mattress. Fuck. There are so many things I miss,” Yoongi adds, his voice thick with emotion. Reminiscing about the things he misses brings him great pain.

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand on top of his. “But at least we still have each other.”

“Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he smiles at you, and you think he looks so handsome and beautiful, his cute nose and jaw—everything about him is amazing. His rough yet soft features. You love him so much. He has done so much for you. You’ll forever be in debt to him.

— 4 years later

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you pant, feeling the throbbing pain from days of relentless walking, the swelling making each step a new ordeal.

“Let’s take a break. We’ve been walking for days. Let’s set up camp,” he rasps, his voice rougher and more hoarse with time, a result of exposure to the relentless elements or something else, something you both fear to name.

Dropping your backpacks to the ground, Yoongi sets up the tent while you sit down, finally giving your weary legs a rest. Your gaze drifts to the sky, now filled with white clouds—a stark contrast to the endless gray you’ve grown accustomed to. Four years ago, you never thought you’d see white clouds again, let alone a glimpse of blue sky. It makes your heart clench with a fragile hope, a hope for a future you scarcely dared to dream about, yet desperately cling to. On the rare days when the sun breaks through the perpetual gloom, you savor its warmth and light.

“We’re almost out of food,” Yoongi states, coughing slightly before sitting next to you. You lean into him, seeking comfort in his presence.

“It’s okay. I wish we could forage from nature. We can make it,” you say, your voice tinged with hope as you lace your fingers with his. Both of you are exhausted—tired of walking, tired of running. Ever since the war started four years ago, you’ve been on the move, searching for safety. The world was bombed into oblivion, and those who survived scattered, fighting for their lives. The old people in power have regrouped, forming the New World Order, a ruthless regime bent on controlling what is left of civilization. They keep many secrets, information they don’t want the scattered remnants of humanity to know. The New World Order hunts anyone who opposes them, which is why you stay hidden, moving in the shadows. Various resistance groups have sprung up, each fighting back, but they are fragmented, hard to keep up with.

“Yeah, but for now, we still have some food left. Let’s eat,” he says, hugging you tightly as if afraid he might lose you.

You follow his lead, retrieving rations from your packs. Food is scarce, but you’ve learned to live off minimal portions just to stay alive. Begging for food in a city is a last resort; stealing is even lower on your list, but survival drives you to consider the unthinkable.

Eating is a relief, filling your empty stomachs. After your meal, you and Yoongi head into your tent. It’s battered and full of holes, but it provides a semblance of shelter, a fragile barrier against the harsh world outside.

Inside the tent, Yoongi massages your tired feet, his touch soothing the ache from days of relentless walking. You nestle into each other, your lips finding each other in a desperate dance. Your breaths mingle, turning into soft moans that punctuate the silence of the night.

“I want you, love,” Yoongi pants. The way he calls you ‘love’ now always makes your heart race, your face flush. You’ve been in love with him for a long time, and every time he says it, it reminds you just how deeply.

“I want you too. Please, make love to me. I need you,” you quiver, your desire for him skyrocketing. This need always peaks at night or in the mornings, a burning hunger that drives you into each other’s arms on the daily.

Yoongi undresses you with a feverish urgency, and you help him out of his clothes. Your kisses become needier, as if you’re afraid this might be the last time. His lips trail down your neck, and you moan, feeling like you’re in heaven. He grabs a condom—you’d used up that box of 500 pieces a long time ago, but thankfully Yoongi managed to find some in a city you passed through, because bringing a child into this shattered world is the last thing either of you wants. Fuck the fact that you don’t have money. But you don’t have money for a child either.

He strokes himself, grunting low and lustful, then rolls the condom on. He nudges your slick entrance, always ready for him, always needing him. He guides himself into you, filling you completely, and you both gasp at the sensation. His hands find yours, fingers lacing together, grounding you in the moment.

He starts to thrust, slow and steady, each movement deliberate and sensual. “I don’t ever want to lose you,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. He presses down on you, his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed in a deep breath before he opens them again. “I feel like we don’t have much time.”

You look at him, puzzled by his sudden anxiety. “Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have,” he says, his lips meeting yours again.

When he pulls away, you try to reassure him. “Everything will be okay. We’ll make it.”

He hums, increasing the speed of his hips, thrusting deeper. “I love you,” he whispers, his hand finding your clit, rubbing circles that send waves of pleasure through your body. Your climax builds quickly, and you release around him, your moans mingling with his name, telling him how much you love him, how lucky you are to have him.

He kisses you deeply, and with a grunt, he finds his own release, filling the condom. You both pant for air, and he rolls to the side, discarding the condom in the corner of the tent. He spoons you, your hearts beating in sync, the warmth of his body a comforting shield against the cold, uncertain world outside.

In the quiet aftermath, you feel a fleeting sense of peace. Despite everything, you have Yoongi, and in this moment, that feels like enough.

The next morning, your feet feel somewhat better, but you know you’ll have to walk again today. You and Yoongi eat a sparse breakfast, trying to ignore your dwindling food supply. At least you still have clean water.

As you pack up, Yoongi looks at you with a serious expression. “I think I’m getting sick,” he says, and your heart drops. This is what you’ve been dreading. It’s his cough, isn’t it?

Forcing optimism in this shattered world, you give him a wry smile. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe we should head to one of the cities near the Capital. There might be a good doctor there who can look at you.” You smile, clinging to hope, because you can’t afford for him to be sick. 

You can’t afford to lose him. 

You don’t want to be alone. 

You need him and you love him.

Relax. Deep breath. Yoongi’s soft eyes meet yours, and you do your best to steady your thoughts and your breathing. An anxiety attack won’t solve anything.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says with a smile, grabbing your hand and tracing light circles in your palm. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”

You pack up the rest of your things and start the trek towards the Capital. You don’t want to enter the Capital itself, knowing The New World Order’s presence makes survival there impossible. Your best bet is a suburb with a good doctor.

Hand in hand, you walk, one foot after the other. Many breaks for water and pee breaks make progress slow. You have to set up camp again, and the days stretch into weeks. The journey on foot is grueling, and the scenery is a bleak reminder of the war—cracked roads, sand and dirt, burnt patches, and ash-covered areas. You hate it, the stark contrast to the life before the war, but it’s also how you met Yoongi. At least one good thing came out of it.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking, but at least you have each other, unlike the last time you ventured out for safety. Both of you are immensely tired, feet sore, but then you spot it in the distance: a small city just before the Capital.

The Capital and its surrounding cities have been rebuilt since the war, their new structures futuristic looking; cold and distant. You miss the comforting feel of home.

“You see it too, right? It’s not just my mind playing tricks on me?” you ask in disbelief, eyes fixed on the city ahead.

“It’s there, you’re not crazy, love,” Yoongi chuckles beside you, his hand still in yours as you will your bodies to make it to the city.

It’s small, barely more than a dirt road flanked by a few buildings. Calling it a city or even a town would be a stretch. As you walk through the deserted streets, hope wanes. Suddenly, a tall, muscular man with black hair steps into your path, and you collide with him.

You bump your head against his chest and groan, muttering an apology. When you look up, you see one of the softest faces you’ve ever seen on a man.

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault. I walked out in front of you,” he apologizes, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. You feel Yoongi’s hand freeze in yours, and you turn to see what’s wrong. His expression is one of sheer disbelief, as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Kook?” he utters, eyes wide with unmistakable recognition.

The stranger’s eyes widen, and then he bursts into a broad smile, opening his arms to embrace Yoongi. “Hyung!” he cries, tears streaming down his face as he squeezes Yoongi so tightly you fear he might break a few bones.

“You’re alive?” Yoongi asks, happiness lacing his voice as they step back from each other.

“Yeah!” Jungkook grins, his eyes soft and proud. “I made a survivalist camp. There are a few of us here; you’re welcome to join us.”

“Wow. We looked for you after the bombs. Went to your house, but it was destroyed. I thought the worst. But fuck, I’m so glad to see you again,” Yoongi says, tears in his eyes as he hugs Jungkook again, unwilling to let go now that he’s found him.

“I was fine. I made it out before things got bad,” Jungkook says, turning his gaze towards you.

Yoongi, sensing Jungkook’s curiosity, introduces you. “This is my better half. If we could get married in this time and age, I’d call her my wife.”

You blush at his words, knowing them to be true. Officially getting married is nearly impossible now, with the risk of exposing yourselves by going into the Capital for a license. You don’t need a label to know what you mean to each other.

“Oh, how cute! You survived the apocalypse together?” Jungkook asks, still smiling as he gestures for you to follow him.

“You could say that,” you reply, smiling as Yoongi tugs you along to follow Jungkook.

Jungkook leads you through the sandy street to a larger house in better shape than the others. Out front, a few cars and a motorcycle catch your eye; their sleek, futuristic design makes you wonder if they’re from the Capital. “This way,” Jungkook says, opening the door to the big house. Inside, the air is fresh and clean, the walls a washed white, the wooden floorboards creaking under your feet.

“Welcome to Whalien52,” he announces proudly. You hear rumbling noises and turn to see a group of guys rushing out from a nearby room, stopping in their tracks when they spot you and Yoongi.

Jungkook laughs. “This is the rest of the gang,” he says, pointing to the rowdy group now chuckling among themselves. You give them a small wave.

“Our resistance group is quite small, but each of us has a different skill set that comes in handy when dealing with The New World Order. Let me introduce everyone,” Jungkook says, beaming with pride as he highlights each member.

“This is Namjoon. He handles all our tech stuff,” he says, pointing to a tall man with silver hair who smiles at you.

“Excuse me, you have tech?” you ask in disbelief. It’s been so long since you’ve seen proper technology, let alone held your phone. Speaking of which, you haven’t seen your phone in years, probably left behind when the war started.

“Yeah, we make our own,” Namjoon says with a smile.

“Anyway,” Jungkook clears his throat, “this is Jimin. He’s our stealth and assassination guy.” He points to a man about the same height as Yoongi, with pink hair.

You gulp, realizing how invaluable such a skill would be against The New World Order.

“This is Taehyung. He’s our resident handyman,” Jungkook says, introducing another tall man, this one with blue hair.

“This is Hoseok. He’s the one who plans our missions and does recon,” Jungkook continues, pointing to a man with red hair.

“And lastly,” Jungkook says, pointing to a tall man with broad shoulders and a lab coat, “this is Jin. He’s a doctor.”

The introductions settle in, each name and role adding a layer of hope and security you haven’t felt in ages. Here, amidst the cracked roads and remnants of the old world, is a pocket of resistance, a flicker of defiance against the oppressive new order. You realize this group, this place, could be the sanctuary you and Yoongi have been desperately seeking.

Your eyes almost sparkle at the mention of Jin being a doctor, and relief floods you—maybe you don’t have to keep walking in search of help.

“Nice to meet you all,” Yoongi says, waving weakly and coughing. You notice Jin raising an eyebrow and moving closer to Yoongi.

“That cough doesn’t sound normal. How long have you had it?” Jin inquires, his eyes scrutinizing Yoongi.

“Yeah. But recently it’s gotten worse,” Yoongi admits, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“Come with me. I’ll check you out,” Jin says, gesturing for Yoongi to follow him into what looks like a makeshift clinic room. Yoongi lets go of your hand, and you spot a couch nearby. Sinking into it, you're grateful to be somewhere safe, with a roof over your head. Jungkook sits beside you, explaining how his camp started as a literal campfire gathering for war survivors, evolving into a resistance when they uncovered the government's dark secrets and withheld information.

Time seems to blur as Yoongi is examined. When he finally emerges, his face is pale, eyes hollow. Panic grips you as you rush to him, grabbing his hands. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Apparently... I have cancer,” Yoongi states blankly. Tears spill down your cheeks. This is your worst fear come to life. You cling to him, shaking your head in denial.

Jin steps out, his expression somber and apologetic. “I’m sorry for the bad news. Y/N, I think we should check you too. You’ve also been exposed to radiation,” he explains. You look into Yoongi’s eyes, seeing a mix of sadness, anger, and determination.

Biting your lip, you kiss his cheek, then follow Jin into the patient room. The air feels heavy with despair, but also with a flicker of hope. Here, among these survivors, you might find a way to fight back against the darkness that has consumed your world.

Jin examines you thoroughly, running blood tests and scans with machines you haven’t seen in years—machines you thought had been lost in the war. Perhaps Namjoon built them? You don’t ask. Fear keeps you silent, dread pooling in your stomach. What if you’re sick too? What if Yoongi is going to die?

Jin finishes his tests and leads you back to Yoongi. His face is grave as he begins to speak. “Y/N has breast cancer,” he says, frustration evident in his voice.

“But I don’t feel sick,” you protest, though you know it’s futile.

“It seems to be in the early stages,” Jin assures you. You grab Yoongi’s hand, seeking comfort.

“Yoongi has thyroid cancer, and it’s more advanced,” Jin continues, finally sitting down on a stool.

“What can we do? Is there a treatment or cure?” you ask, your voice trembling. You know cancer treatments exist, but in this world, such things seem out of reach—hoarded by The New World Order.

“There is,” Jimin says, stepping forward. His pink hair contrasts sharply with the bleak surroundings. “The New World Order has a cure for cancer, but they keep it tightly guarded.”

“They only care about themselves,” Hoseok grunts, rolling his eyes in disdain.

“Those people are selfish, hoarding information and research,” Namjoon says, clenching his fists. “Information should be free, not hidden behind a paywall.”

“It’s not even a paywall, Joon,” Jungkook interjects. “It’s exclusive to the elite. They don’t care about the rest of us.”

“Can we get this cure?” you ask, your voice small and uncertain.

“We can try. We don’t agree with their methods, and this cure is crucial. Many people are suffering from cancer due to radiation exposure,” Jungkook says, his hands clenching into fists. You notice the tattoos lining them, symbols of resilience and defiance.

“This is too much to ask,” Yoongi says, shaking his head.

“No, it isn’t, hyung. I want to help you and everyone else. This is our mission, right, Jimin?” Jungkook turns to Jimin, his eyes glinting with determination.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, his voice light but resolute. “Let’s steal the cure and save humanity.”

In that moment, hope sparks within you. This ragtag group, against all odds, might just have the courage and skill to challenge The New World Order and reclaim the future.

→ The story continues in the spinoff ‘Whalien52’ (pjm x reader)  (it’s not the same reader though and Yoongi and this reader features in it)

→ Author’s note(2): I’m not entirely pleased with this sequel, because I had a hard time figuring out how much I should say, and again, I felt like most would be the same, lol— like what more can happen while the world is ending? Maybe I’m just not creative enough. I’m really in a tough spot with my writing, but I’m really trying, but I feel like everything is crap… Anyway, I think it works perfectly to set up the other part (spinoff) 🤷 Also; a big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. I followed you for your DNC 2024 commentary and the links to the PBS broadcasts. The DNC has been great this year! I have a special interest in US politics that stems from childhood and being brought to the voting booth with my mother, who hated W and wanted to vote against him.I’ve been watching all of the DNC livestreams on their official website, but the PBS broadcasts and videos on their YouTube channel are great for seeing them again.

Walz was amazing last night! I loved his acceptance speech! And I can’t wait for Kamala tonight! I’ve been sharing DNC 2024 highlights with my sister, who’s usually checked out of politics unless something big happens, but is incredibly excited for the Harris-Walz ticket.

Thanks, and I'm glad you've enjoyed my fairly off-the-cuff commentary, aha. I think we're enjoying the DNC so much not just because it feels like a rock concert, though it does, but because of all that pent-up fear and dread and anger and hatred that the Orange One has been so good at stoking and which we might FINALLY just be able to make go away for good. That is a powerful motivator and a beautiful dream, and I am going to do whatever I can to keep interest, enthusiasm, and hope for the basic task of saving America, at long fucking last, from Trump. It is hard but necessary and possible, and it must be done.

That being so, I am still holding onto the delightful notion that on January 21, 2025, having watched Kamala get inaugurated as the first female POTUS (having sailed to the Capitol on an ocean of MAGA tears), I will not have to post about politics on the blue hellsite for at least another 12 months. AT LEAST. In the meantime, though, we've all got work to do, and the last night of the convention is coming up tonight. I'm not sure it's possible for people to be MORE pumped, but I am eager to find out.

[beaniebabyidiot]

Here is part 1 of me watching all the x-men movies in order with commentary from when I was texting my friend about it

first up, x-men: first class

why is beast not.... beastly

bro just has hand feet where is my blue hairy boy

i like how the man in black has no name Imao

i am choosing to call him dr charles as that is the name of his character in chicago med

fun villain sidekicks: diamond lady, literally a demon, and storm but can only make tornadoes

cant belive this man single handedly started the cuban missile crisis

charles and erik are so in love

TOXIC OLD MAN YAOI!!!

they aren't old yet but whatever

HES BECOMINN BEASTLY

HE LOOKS SO SILLY OMG I LOVE HIM

bro was banshee just left for dead in the middle of the ocean???

nvm he’s good

overall that was a pretty good movie, nothing super special but it set things up really well and it was a fun watch

[ruruumin]

bookworm of a man.

₊˚ ᗢ alhaitham x gn!reader, modern au.

⤷ what is he like in college?

It comes as no surprise that the man is extremely studious. He spends most of his time in the library, his nose stuck in a few literary books. He’s the type that stays there all day and night. The same kind that would on occasion, pull all-nighters and take naps with a book laid out on the table. It takes a lot of restraint to keep you from barging into the library and pulling him by the ear just for him to go home.

He can be a little arrogant at times. His tongue is sharp but it’s unintentional. He’s straightforward and always feels the need to talk for himself. He doesn’t like misunderstandings and makes it a habit to clear up any that arise. It can be frustrating at times when you get into arguments with him. He always wants to prove himself, and he knows deep down it’s his way of trying to show that he cares about something. He tries to add a few trendy words in an attempt to come off as “in-tune” or aware (there was a moment in your life where he couldn’t stop using ‘bombastic side eye’ whenever his roommate did anything troubling). 

He is a linguistics major, so he takes the time to create his own language. As requested by his professor, he’s been trying it out in front of you. While many people shrug off his commentary, such as Kaveh, you are fascinated by his language. Most of the time you don’t understand what he’s saying. A lot of what he explains flies over your head, but seeing you so immersed in trying to learn makes the edges of his lips curve into a small smile. He takes the time to write on sticky notes about a few words and pronunciations, hoping that eventually you and him might hold a conversation in his language.

He would read all kinds of books, whether it be a physics book tucked away in the obscure corner of the room, or a cheesy romance novel about two teenagers pining for each other. Whatever it is, he has most likely read it and will give you his review. It comes in handy when you ask him about a reading you had for class, he always has something to say. If you need to rent a book, you could always come to him, and get Al-Haitham’s annotated copy. Flipping through it, you can see that he has written on the margins a few comments (some are critiques, others are question marks). His favorite color to use for sticky notes and tabs tend to be teal and ocean blue. 

Although he is well-off, he chooses to live in the student dormitory. His reasoning for doing so was rather strange and uncharacteristic of him. He believed that by choosing the dorms, he might be able to find an equal to his rambles. However, what he was stuck with was a boisterous, blond architecture major named Kaveh. They bicker night and day. It gets so heated that their other roommates have filed noise complaints against them. It’s a rather funny thing, you still laugh at it to this day. Al-Haitham’s attempt at making friends was to simply live in the dormitories, and that lead him to find not an equal, but his polar opposite. 

For someone who is engrossed in literature and language, Kaveh makes it a point to call him out on his physique. He says it’s unfair: how could someone as lazy and unenthusiastic as Al-Haitham have such a nice, toned body? Perhaps it was the fact that aside from studying, he goes to the gym to clear his mind. It was an easy place to wear his headphones, and play some obscure playlist you’d created for him. No one goes out of their way to bother him unless it's about the machine. And you find it rather endearing that whatever song you put in the playlist, he would always listen to. He even goes as far as to give you his analysis of the song lyrics, even if they are extremely straightforward.

While he may live with his roommate Kaveh, that doesn’t stop him from inviting you over to his place. He says it’s nice to have a conversation with you when it’s not so loud outside. It has gotten to the point where Kaveh expects you to be home. He thinks it's a blessing in disguise because while he has to deal with Al-Haitham’s snotty comments, he is at the very least, in a better mood. Was that your charm working wonders on the man? Did you finally wear him down? You’ve broken him, Kaveh says, he never cooks (you’ve come to learn from this moment on that Al-Haitham has been living off of dining hall food for half a year), look at him now, making pasta for you. 

“Today’s reading?” He hums, resting his chin against the palm of his hand. He looks up to you with an amused smile. “I read it back when I was in middle school. If you want me to send you my notes, you just have to say please.”

[monsterblogging]

Quotes from the Pacific Rim commentary re: Guillermo del Toro's aesthetic decisions

"You cannot do world creation without filling in with texture and detail."

...

"People think that world creation - movie, for example - is the big gestures. But it isn't. It's all this small details. Look at the markings. Look at the vehicles that open the doors. Look at the banners and the markings in the crawler that moves the robot. Everything is full of detail. We designed this."

....

"We going to what I call gothic tech, or goth tech. Which is to go right away into a world that is rusting, that is in decay, where you have the concrete is cheap, the paint is chipping off, the armors in the robots is dented, it's sort of pitted and they feel like knights, like these ancient knights, and we start accumulating, for example, atmosphere."

...

"I wanted the movie to be very romantic, but not romantic in the Harlequin novel sense or the romance novel sense of the word. I wanted it to be romantic in its epicness. You know, I wanted it to feel like an opera. I wanted it to feel dramatic. So instead of doing this in a well-lit street in New York I wanted this first fight to happen in an almost like, the middle of a romantic painting, like Caspar David Friedrich is a romantic painter I adore. And I wanted very much for it to happen in the rain in the middle of a tempest in an ocean where the waves are crashing into them. And the water throughout the movie becomes an incredibly complex expressive element."

...

"We're going to go from the biggest, the widest, to the little bug of a pilot crawling out of the helmet. Isolate Raleigh. You know, we isolate Raleigh. I'm telling the story: Look at the markings on his suit, the burn marks on his skin, those are going to become scars that he's going to carry for the rest of the movie. And I'm telling you this is when we started losing. This was the price for arrogance, this was the price for youth, and we're staining the white with red. I'm trying to build a character not just by the work of the actor, but by the storytelling with audiovisual elements."

...

"And look at this, Raleigh's all introduced in this one color, he'd golden, gold colors, and he's all coated in warm greens and earth tones and the light that is bathing him is always golden, and it's about that color coming together with Mako's dominant color, and Pentecost in this case, which is connected with Mako, which are blue."

...

"So this, we come to the scene where they meet for the first time. And I have color-coded this scene entirely in those two colors, in the blue and the ambers. You know, the bright ambers and the blue, the sort of cyan blue. And this is Mako meeting Raleigh, so the entire thing needs to be color-coded like that. And Mako's blue, because I'm making her origin to the kaiju, the kaiju blue, the blood of the kaiju - but also you will see in a few minutes a memory. A memory that is all color-coded in blue and splashes of red in her past as a child. And that blue has stained her hair. Even her hair has this strands of blue because she cannot get rid of that memory. She carries it in her."

...

"We color-coded, for example, the Chinese robot, we color-coded it red and gold and is patterned after medieval armor, and it needs to feel Chinese in essence, it needs to respond to martial arts movements; its musical theme is very strong."

...

"And here again we have now a robot, a Jaeger, that is designed, a mech that is designed to resemble a T-series Russian tank, color-coded like that, with like a cooling tower from a nuclear reactor on top."

...

"And we introduce Striker Eureka, the Australian Jaeger, which is designed a little bit like an all-terrain vehicle and color-coded with the outback camouflage colors and is the most masculine of the robots, of the Jaegers, of the mech, and is very much testosterone-driven."

...

"We talked about the color red; well, here it becomes very important. We have these characters fighting that is very very color-coded to be warm; we have a lot of reddish art direction here. We color-coded this arena in black and red. The stakes, the wood, the machines, the color of the light hitting the machines, the symbols on the wall, everything is permeated with red. Because again, I wanted red to symbolize sort of the heart. And Mako's going to find her heart and Raleigh's going to find his heart, or life, by connecting with Mako. We saw him bleeding - the last time we saw red with any importance other than the Chinese robot was when he was bleeding in the beach."

...

"And again, red coming in and linking these three characters; these three characters are the heart of the movie, you know. And blood for nobility and mortality is what makes us human. And Pentecost and Raleigh and Mako are the heart of the film."

...

"And now we start bringing, literally, bringing the crazy colors into the film. I wanted to color code this movie, bring it as close as possible to a living anime, or a living incarnation of a magazine that was very important for me growing up, which is Heavy Metal with Angus McKie, Richard Corben, Chris Foss, all these guys working with super primary colors, and I wanted to bring that saturation of colors to this, and for that I needed Hannibal Chau to meet Newt in Hong Kong."

...

"In shooting the film, we then came to the final moment and again, these three characters, Mako, Raleigh, and Pentecost, which have existed in a blue-amber world start to come to a red space, you know? This is the first time we used this red space properly in this film. Other than the Chinese robot, we were very careful with not coding anything in red. But now, at the end of the adventure, everybody's coming away. And at the end of the life, at the end of their life, that is Mako, Raleigh, everybody's gonna find this light is red. And now I can talk to you about the way I sort of organized the three fights for Raleigh. I wanted one fight with the kaiju to be the fight where he loses someone. He loses his brother in the beginning. That's where he bleeds red, you know? Then the second fight in Hong Kong is where he gains a partner. He loses a partner in the first fight, he gains a partner on the second fight. And in this final fight, he saves that partner. So, it's a full circle. I show him in the construction area in the beginning sitting in a sort of throne of concrete, if you remember, when he meets Pentecost; he made an incomplete circle. And here he completes that circle."

[transbutchblues]

tagged by @cattus-catos :) thanks

last book i read : The Communist Manifesto by Engels and Marx. it was over a month ago but i’ve been feeling weird so i haven’t been able to actually finish a book since then.

a book i recommend : Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, my favorite book. it’s so beautiful. everyone should read it.

a book i couldn’t put down : so many! i’d say Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott, an absolutely amazing book exploring collective and generational trauma through the presence of ghosts while also being sometimes funny and lesbian. it’s so good i read it aloud to my mother then offered it to my grandparents. as well as Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg, which opened entire new paths for me.

a book i’ve read twice : so many books but let’s say Anne Carson’s Antigonick. one of my favourite ancient greek play translations/retellings.

a book on my tbr : Aristophanes’ plays. i don’t like comedies so i keep procrastinating, but i really need to read them at some point.

a book i’ve put down : The Hera of Zeus : Intimate Enemy, Ultimate Spouse even though i absolutely loved it, because i borrowed it at the uni library and then had to give it back before finishing it. and now said library is closed for the summer. but also some other academic books that are interesting but too tiring to read right now.

a book on my wishlist : @nicosraf’s Angels and Man - i absolutely loved the first book, it’s incredible, it’s one of my favorite queer books, but i still haven’t found the time and money to buy the second one.

a favourite book from childhood : a french book collection on ancient greek myths called Saga of [Hero’s name] : greek mythology in 100 episodes. The ones on Odysseus and Theseus are the very first books on greek myths that i remember reading, when i was about 5 or 6.

a book you would give to a friend : Gideon the Ninth from The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir. this is so good. lesbian necromantic science fiction, absolutely hilarious but also tragic. i should probably have put it as the book i reread because i read it exactly 4 times in 6 months (and did the same with the two following books. before writing a analysis document on it.)

a book of poetry/lyrics you own : Anne Carson’s translation of Sappho’s poetry, If not, Winter. and Ocean Vuong’s two poetry books, Time is a Mother and Night Sky With Exit Wounds. as well as Richard Siken’s Crush. or Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal, the first poetry book that i enjoyed. all amazing works!

a non-fiction book you own : Eros the Bittersweet by Anne Carson (lots of Anne Carson here. maybe i have an obsession), an exploration of love in ancient greece. i read mostly pdfs of non fiction books or i borrow them from the library.

currently reading : too many books…. Lucan’s Pharsalia, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi, a french translation and commentary of Catullus’ poems, multiple retellings of ancient plays,…

planning on reading next : the Iliad! i really want to reread it, i keep thinking about it. the first time i read it it only took me 3 days but this time i want to annotate it. also, Female Masculinity by J. Jack Halberstam. and multiple academic books about Antigone.

tagging : @hiemihymni @olympianbutch @khaire-traveler but no pressure!

[blainesebastian]

worth it

words: 1,373 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (combination of 2 requests) angry!austin + protective!austin (sentence prompt)  notes: thanks for all the requests! it’s been cool to write and realize multiple requests can fit into one writing piece :) hope ya’ll enjoy. masterlist is here  warnings: verbal abuse (men about reader)  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted

Austin’s pissed.

You can see it in the frame of his shoulders, tight across like rebar formed into the bone. He stands a bit straighter, the muscle in his jaw works, and his eyes which are usually the softest ocean blue turn hard, like the color of a frozen lake. When your boyfriend has these moments, you always remember something your mother would say when you were younger—to be wary of the anger of a gentle man. Not that you’re afraid of Austin or afraid of what he might do, but you know that he’s never quick to this emotion. So for him to be this upset? His buttons have to be pushed and pushed hard.

You feel like you should have known to just leave the bar that you’re at tonight altogether when you came in and you saw it was packed. It’s a place that you both have been to before, on dates, to hang out with friends and family, to just catch a quick drink before heading home after a long night on set. The entire makeup of the place tonight is just different given how crowded it is, people seem to have shorter fuses, tolerance, and the air is thick with a kind of tension that you can feel seeping into your pores long before Austin’s patience snaps.

But it was supposed to be an easy night of relaxation, of having a few beers, of maybe playing darts and picking up a 2AM pizza and eating it in bed together before crashing. When the first few comments from these guys around you started making things uncomfortable, you should have told Austin to close the tab and suggested heading out.

At first? It was kinda something that you were just ignoring because…it’s not the last time you’ll be out at a bar and guys are saying inappropriate things to you. Especially while drunk—you’ve learned the hard way that assholes will be opinionated no matter what. And giving these guys attention by either yelling at them or asking them to stop is just going to hype them up even more. You’re a woman and men, for the most part with a sparce few, suck. Cat-calling happens all the time and while you’re not saying it’s right? You don’t have the energy to deal with it.

Not to mention, sometimes, that when it happens and you’re alone—it’s not the safest approach to respond.

So a few comments float by while you’re at the bar with Austin, some of them you hear, other times it’s just a part of the loudness of people around you. Either way, you take a step closer to him and just enjoy the night, hoping it’ll just fizzle out on its own.

It doesn’t.

There’s these long string of moments where Austin goes to the restroom and you’re alone, doing your best to just ignore the lewd commentary coming from two or three guys a few bar stools over. You’re not about to look in their direction, give them a thrill or the time of day, but when Austin comes back he can tell you’re uncomfortable.

And then he hears it.

“Fine lookin’ piece of ass tonight at the bar.”

“Right? And usually this place is so fuckin’ dry.”

“Not tonight—you see the rack on her? Think she’s rentin’ by the hour? Could ask her—”

During the entire interaction, you can feel more than see Austin’s demeanor change beside you, the tensing of his body, the way his arm wraps around your waist to keep you close. You’re hoping he’s just going to let it go, maybe offer to go to a different section of the bar or better yet, leave altogether and find somewhere else to spend the night.

Austin leans back from the bar just enough to make sure his words land, “The fuck did you just say?”

The guys fall silent, just for a moment, startled that he’s actually said something to them. But this doesn’t deter them for long, there’s laughter which immediately sets Austin’s blue eyes alight. It’s obvious his blood is boiling and in any other situation? This might cause a shiver to course down your spine but your only concern right now is getting out of the bar without a horrible fight starting.

While you appreciate the gesture of Austin not letting these comments fly, it’s not worth throwing punches.

“We were wonderin’ if your girlfriend rents by the hour,” One guy slurs, taking another sip of beer, “Seems like a fuckin’ waste to keep her to yourself.”

Austin takes a strong step forward and you have to move quickly before you lose him, your hand falling to his chest, “Stop,” You insist, fingers digging into his shirt a little.

“Better listen to your lady, pal.”

You shake your head, tugging a bit on the fabric until he looks down at you. “Please,” And you can feel him relax, just slightly, when his eyes meet yours, “It’s not worth it, okay?”

The muscle in Austin’s jaw tightens before he lets out a short breath through his nose, “Of course it’d be worth it.” But he concedes, throwing cash on the bar counter before taking your hand and leading you out through the crowd.

The night air is cold and biting compared to the heated space of the bar, your skin prickling as a chill settles along your body. Austin doesn’t look back at you either, walking all the way to the end of the street with his hand firmly clasped around yours.

“Austin,” You try and then you pause at a crosswalk when the light changes, “Austin.”

He turns sharply at you saying his name and you…don’t have the words to tell him he’s squeezing your hand too hard when you get a good look at his face. He’s pissed. His breathing is a little off, eyes sharp like broken glass. The hand that he’s not holding quickly moves to cup his one cheek, running your thumb over the bone.

That seems to get him to restart, just slightly, taking a short, calming breath into his lungs and his grip loosens on your other hand. He tips his head back a little, sighing, running a hand through his hair.

“Nothin’ pushes my fucking buttons like that.” He comments, a slight twang in his voice leftover from Elvis when he’s upset.

You shake your head gently; he really doesn’t have to explain. “I know,” You mumble, running your thumb along his knuckles, back and forth in a soothing motion. “Definitely don’t need to be hittin’ people though.”

There’s a crack of a smile on Austin’s lips and from then on you know he’s genuinely calmed down, “Would be worth it though.” He lifts up the hands you both have laced together and presses a kiss to your fingers.

A soft sigh flutters out of your lips, a gentle eyeroll to follow even though it’s fond.

“I know I can’t protect you from everythin’, but sometimes I wish you’d let me protect you from the things I can control.”

And then that hits you a little differently, the warmth Austin obviously feels towards you rolling off in waves. You can’t help but smile up at him, touched that he wants to look out for you, even in frustrating moments like this. Maybe you need to realize that you deserve someone caring about you too—that idiots in a bar like that shouldn’t be able to just throw whatever comments they want in your direction and it just ‘be okay’.

“I mean—I guess throwin’ a punch would kinda be sexy, I dunno.” And you’re joking, of course, but the passion it represents in connection to what he’s said is still there.

Austin hums in amusement and slides his jacket off, the jean sherpa that he tends to wear out once the weather shifts into something cooler. He places it over your shoulders, drawing you close before crossing the street.

You’re not sure it’d be actually worth it to have Austin get into some sort of fist fight over you…but the sentiment is definitely there that he’d even be willing and worth more than you can put into words.

[sistersavelorn]

Fish List

I love fish so much. I have only been thinking about fish. Here is a list of my favorite fish in no particular order, with facts and random commentary sprinkled in between.

Copper Rockfish

If someone asks me what my favorite fish is, I'll say Copper Rockfish. It was the first fish I ever caught (and had to put back, since Rockfish are endangered), but genuinely I just think they look really neat. They're my favorite out of all of the Rockfish species.

2. Quillback Rockfish

Though Copper Rockfish are my favorite Rockfish, I'll also shoutout Quillback. I really like how their spines are blue, and standout really well against the yellow and black. All Rockfish are venomous (to my understanding), but I've always found these ones to be the most intimidating if only because the spines are so much bigger than the other subspecies.

3. Sockeye Salmon (spawning)

For those who don't know, salmon spawning is when salmon return to their birthplace (freshwater) to lay eggs and die, and they also change appearance. Pre-spawning, while they are in saltwater, all the different subspecies pretty much look the same: silver and lumpy, with only minor differences between them. When spawning, they all turn more green and red and become more distinct from one another. I've always liked Sockeye the most, with their green heads and bright red bodies, and the shape of their heads/mouths. I think it's really an iconic look.

4. Flounder

I love flounder just because they look stupid. Fun fact: they don't actually start flat. They're born looking like "normal" fish, with one eye on each side of the head, but as they grow the face shifts onto the top and they flatten to better blend in with the sea floor. Imagine hitting puberty and you turn into Flat Stanley lmao.

5. Cabezon

Cabezon, like Rockfish, have venomous spines. Also their meat is blue until you cook it, where it turns white, which I think is neat. Usually, they reside really deep in the ocean, but in fall and winter they come more into the shallows to make nests and lay eggs. The males are left behind to guard them, so this is the best time to catch one if you don't want to go out on a boat, and also don't want to worry about catching a female. I've never eaten one, but my dad says that they have a texture more similar to chicken.

6. Betta

Pretty basic species of domestic fish, but I still really like them. I had a red and blue male as a kid named Spike. Bettas are usually surface/top fish, but Spike liked to go to the bottom to feed with the Emerald Corydoras I had, and sleep on the moss ball (like it was a little bed). He had a surprising amount of personality for a fish.

7. Emerald Corydora

Corydoras are basically just little freshwater catfish. They like to be in groups, so you have to have at least five if you want to have them at all. I had Emerald Corydoras growing up, and I loved watching them spend all day picking at the sand with their little whiskers for food. They remind me of cows.

8. Panda Corydora

Panda Corydoras are also really neat. I like how shiny they can be, I think it makes them look like little Pokémon.

9. Albino Corydora

Albino Corydoras are cool, especially in comparison to the other species. I think they all look like little old men.

10. Koi

Another kind of basic fish, but they're still cool and I want to point them out. They can get really big if they're not kept in a small enclosure (Domestic Koi can get between 12 and 15 inches, Japanese Koi between 22 and 26, and Jumbo Koi between 34 and 36).

11. Pufferfish

Like flounders, they also look stupid and it amuses me endlessly. They have these two front teeth for breaking into snail shells and slurping them out. I remember there was this really big one at the fish store I used to go to (nearly identical to the one pictured on the left) that would follow your finger if you dragged it across the glass, all the while with that big-ass stupid smile on it's face. They're just so full of whimsy.

12. Telescope Goldfish

Never owned them but I think they're really neat. "Awooga!!" ahh fish. What are they goggling at smh.

[finchers-ipad]

Saw you have a Brad Pitt dvd section. I do too, only mine's organized by which ones are my favorites. A lot of the time I think DVDs are dying, the odd post pleasantly surprises me xD

this is my full Brad Pitt collection in order, this is basically how they look on my shelf except his Fincher movies are in a different section and ‘Inglorious Basterds’ is with my Tarantino films, then the oceans movies are together. i haven’t watched all of them yet. this section is the biggest in terms of actors in mine, and then i have Ed Norton’s movies next to his.

i love dvds!!!! i have probably around 200 now. i think they are a million times better than exclusively relying on streaming services because say your favourite movie is on one of them, then it’s just taken away one day and you can’t find it online anywhere. THAT SUCKS. also renting movies on like amazon prime or apple tv is like £5 for a day when i got most of mine for 25-50p from my local charity shops and they last forever.

the only way i’m glad that dvds are dying is how cheap they are now but i think everyone should use dvds more. not even blue-rays because they are more expensive (why are they like £10 for second hand i have no idea). THEY ARE DYING AND ITS DEPRESSING. DVD COMMENTARY! SPECIAL FEATURES! BEHIND THE SCENES! it’s all great extra content for movie lovers and and it’s all going away. and the dvds that are being released with new movies aren’t as cool, whatever happened to fun title screens and secret details in them.

i think dvds should come back in a bigger way, you get the odd release but they are either exclusively for blue-ray or the dvds are crazy expensive. or even i think streaming services original films should force the director and actors to sit down and record a commentary track and put it on spotify or youtube or something because THATS WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT!!

[chunkfunkgunk-offishal]

I decided to ask around on all the fish/ocean blogs I follow: how do you learn more about the ocean?? I love the ocean and I really wanna learn more about my favorite sea creatures and beyond but I have no idea how to get started. Are there documentaries or shows your recommend? How do you go about doing research for fun (the American school system has failed me, go figure)? How do you even remember it all? I crave to learn but where I could possibly start is as vast as the ocean itself.

I am probably the least helpful source for this specifically haha

I don’t know as much about the ocean, I just love aquatic creatures! Most of my posts have very little facts or information about the animal themself because I truthfully don’t know much. I google the animal’s name and a few different key terms and check at least 6 different links (Typically 4-5 aquarium/conservation sites or scientific papers and then Wikipedia)

However, I am also from America, so maybe I can be a little helpful!

Most of my in depth information comes from talking with scientists, aquarium staff, and locals and/or fishermen on beaches. I like talking to people about things that they’re passionate about, and asking questions in person can help you quickly and easily get the answers you want. Plus people tend to be more interesting to listen to than a documentary or a scientific paper since they can make more jokes and/or give you little stories from real life about the subject. I adore the Georgia Aquarium, the staff there are amazing and the animals are incredible too!

For documentaries, I’ve watched the BBC’s Blue Planet a lot of times in my life. I also believe that there’s a scientific crew that do a livestream annually of various ocean life and provide commentary as they go. (The streams are Nautilus Live - you might have seen them if you’re familiar with the video of the shy dumbo octopus that hid in its tentacles.)

Last but not least: how I go about research for fun and remember it! It’s actually a little silly, but I actually used to make research slideshows about different animals when I bored and had time in class. I tend to do things like that—get interested in a topic and then go through different sources taking notes for really no reason other than that I want to.

It’s for that same reason that I can remember it, just that it’s interesting to me. When I enjoy learning about something, it sticks and doesn’t disappear. I have ADHD, though, so I can’t say if that’s good advice for someone without it.

I hope this was at least somewhat helpful! Sorry for rambles!

[nihilnovisubsole]

Got any commentary or wisdom or personal insights to share on perfumes and colognes? Do you wear it? What do you like on women, men? I just got into it and have four fragrances: D&G Light Blue, Givenchy Xeryous Rouge, Hermes Un Jardin Apres LA Mousson, and Moschino Toy Boy.

omg hi!!

i'm new to fragrance too! what a wild corner of the fashion world. right now my favorite is essential parfums nice bergamote. i found it at ministry of scent in san francisco. it's very mild, but i worry a lot about smelling bad to people, so that's okay. i like clean, dry notes, white florals like neroli or jasmine, and citrus like bergamot. things that sit lightly so you can wear them all year.

i got shalimar several years ago because of its storied history as The Flapper Perfume, and i love it, but i don't wear it much. like many old perfumes, it's strong and has a heady sex appeal. i don't know if i have the personality to pull it off. the same house, guerlain, also makes neroli outrenoir, which is beautiful but sooo expensive. i can't justify the cost. my mother has worn aromatics elixir for like forty years, and i had no idea how polarizing it is for some people! i guess they can't stand the aldehydes. i find it comforting because i associate it with her. when i was a child, it felt like "the grown-up lady scent."

when it comes to cologne, i'm not picky. honestly, i take just about any fragrance on a man as an encouraging sign that he's making an effort. i think i did that silly "character has a unique scent" thing in dangerous crowns and made marcus smell like orange peel and soap. i will say that i've smelled ds & durga's coriander, and i'd wear it myself, but i could see it being interestingly gender-neutral. it's like standing next to the ocean and shoving a fistful of fresh herbs in your face. zesty!

[thewritingofspencerrose]

straight from the books | masterlist

this is very light enemies to lovers

2018

"I'm just glad you're okay-"

"Margaux, I told you on the radio, and I'll say it again, It was a light jostle, both cars were able to finish," Este assures, and while I know that's the case, it doesn't change the fact that he's my older brother, and his profession will never not make our family's heart race.

"I know, but I heard Verstappen's commentary and he sounded beyond angry, so I just wanted to be sure. The way he played it, it sounded worse."

Valteri snickers to my side, the second Mercedes driver clearly amused, but I understand why the Redbull driver is angry, he lost first. But to threaten the other driver like he did was beyond-

"Ocon!"

Oh no.

My ears catch his harsh tone before my eyes catch his body, shoving his way through the crowd of drivers awaiting their weigh in and straight towards my brother who awaits on the scale.

"What the fuck were you pulling there?" Verstappen's anger is as loud as his voice, hands shoving my brother with more force than I can remember a driver-on-driver interaction. He's shoving him back by his shoulders, the other drivers around simply looking on in awe as Esteban tries to talk himself out of the reaction his driver garnered.

"Man-" But Esteban's words get fainter in my mind as I want Verstappen continue on in Dutch, pushing enough for my brother to walk off of the platform with his opponent right behind him.

A track hand approaches first, separating the boys enough for Verstappen to start to back away, still angrily yelling at my brother but relenting back to Redbull.

Or attempting to, until Esteban gets a look. One I know good and well from years of sibling treatment. He's feeling full of himself, with an attitude of invincibility he used to get when our parents walked into a room. And now Este is shoving back.

"Esteban!" Why am I stepping in? Why?

My feet carry me forward before I can answer my own questions, hands resting on both drivers' chests as I stand in between.

Eyes on fire, eyes of ocean blue meet hazel, and I want to simply pause and stare. But his eyes are only pure anger, and I've now joined the list of people who have angered him.

"He didn't mean to effect your race, your shoving and hollering are not going to change the results."

He does NOT like this rationalization.

His eyes leave mine, looking over my head with every bit of spite. "What? Having your little sister fight your battles with you since you don't have a car to get me with?"

"Don't speak on my sister!"

"That's enough!" It's Redbull's team principal, hand on Max's shoulder as the driver glares between Este and I. "Apologies, Ms.Ocon," the older man is kind enough to apologize, ignoring my brother in a whole before dragging away his still complaining driver.

"What? An angry Dutch comes at you and you decide to smile and mock him into a fight?" Now I've turned on my brother.

"You're eighteen, I'm twenty-one. Go find a seat in hospitality and I'll find you when I'm done." Esteban's face has lost it's mocking smirk, now riddled in seriousness, as he turns his back on me and walks to his assistant, gesturing towards me and away.

And now there's someone who knows I'm meant to go back, and not disappear completely back to the hotel.

Brilliant.

2024

"Just please, try to behave yourself," Esteban is quick to request, voice low as we approach the entrance to the paddock, passes in hand.

"I always behave, Este, you're the one to be concerned about," my voice is just as low, but holds very little humor as I fiddle with my dress. I'd like to continue, but he's already beaten me through the gates, me quickly scanning my pass to catch up and enter beside him, much to the photographer's delight.

With Esteban being a grid menace, much like Kevin this year, the Alpine team loves when Flavy or myself join, a boost of positive attention for their most turbulent driver.

"Ah! And here's Esteban, pilot for Alpine," Laura, my favorite journalist greets, smile directed at me, "And who have you brought with you today?"

"Ah, ma sœur, Margaux," He introduces to the camera, Laura nodding brightly.

"It's been a while, has it not, since you've been able to join us Margaux?" Oh, they're directing questions to guests now?

I have to pause, leveling my smile and head to my practiced mode.

"It has been about two years since I've been able to attend, the last being for our mutual friend Mick Schumacher's most recent race," Most recent, the kindest way I can think to put Mick's current situation.

"Well, it's lovely to see you here again today. I actually believe we follow one another on Instagram, and I saw recently that you graduated from University with a degree in geography, specifically population geography, congratulations! What are your plans for the future?" Her words make me blush, and I can't help the laugh that escapes at the question.

"Mon Dieu," is the first thing out of my mouth, leaning in slightly to the microphone, "I feel as though I'm a driver who's destination is unannounced," The joke earns a laugh from both Laura and Este, "Since my next stop is not an F1 seat, I can happily say I will be teaching history and general geography at the sixth year level starting this fall."

Her smile could not be larger, face full of joy. "Another congratulations on that! We have to move on, but I hope to see you more during the weekend."

"We'll see each other eventually," I assure, her nodding and leaving Este and I to ourselves in the busy area. "I adore her."

Esteban just laughs, moving forwards with his team, leaving me to follow behind, eyes wandering in every which way. The experiences that come from going to races are ones that will never fully be able to comprehend.

The hustle and bustle of the paddock is electric, drivers and teams everywhere with even more places to be.

"Baby Ocon!"

The speed at which my neck turns should be studied, because it's with all the speed of one of the boys cars that I'm turning at that voice, smile wide as my eyes land on the perfectly styled blonde head of my best friend.

"Baby Schumi!" My feet carry me to him before I can decide against it, his body pulling me in and lifting me into a spin, my entire world spinning in joy. "Esteban didn't tell me you'd be here!" Is the first thing out of my mouth when my feet hit the ground, glancing around to notice Mick had been talking with Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Yikes.

'Max, Charles, this is Esteban's sister Margaux. Margaux-"

"I know Schumi, but thank you," I interrupt, knowing the grid my brother is constantly fighting. "It's nice to see you both, congratulations on your seasons to date," I greet, offering an awkward little wave that seems to earn a smile from the Ferrari driver in front of me, the Redbull driver simply staring.

I don't have the time to think on it though, Mick's already started on again, asking about our friend in green.

"I haven't had a chance to catch up with his yet, but I did see Lawrence earlier and I may grab a coffee with him and Lance's girlfriend later."

"Lance has a girlfriend?" Charles is the first to introduce himself to the conversation, he and Mick starting on the walk further into the paddock, continuing with their schedule for the morning and leaving Max and I to follow along, like two little ducks trying to keep on with their parents.

"The state of California in America has more people than all of Canada."

I'm not positive I've just heard the words leave Max Verstappen's mouth, but when I glance over, his eyes are on me, an almost... hesitant, glean to his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

The man shakes his head, simply shrugging off his earlier muttering, but I want to know what he said.

A little nudge is all I give, my should meeting his arm and garnering his attention. "Come on, I want to know."

His smile is small, barely distinguishable from a grimace, "The state of California has more people than all of Canada."

Oh wow.

"Really?" He nods, smiling like he has a reason to be shy. "I didn't know that, that's actually super cool, thank you."

"I figured you would like a geography fact given your degree," Max explains, and the thought behind his process let's me know that no matter what happened between him and Esteban years ago, he no longer holds anything negative towards me.

He's actually being quite sweet with his thoughtfulness and little smile.

He's actually kind of handsome.