#professional organizer's apt.

[opencommunion]

"One of the elements that sets Hizballah apart from other Lebanese groups is the professional level of organization that exists within the party and its institutions. It is no doubt the political party in Lebanon that best responds to its constituents’ needs and desires in the country, both politically and economically. Among the consequences of the Lebanese civil war were economic stagnation, government corruption, and a widening gap between the ever-shrinking middle class and the everexpanding ranks of the poor. Shiite areas of Beirut—namely, the densely populated southern suburbs of Beirut, known as al-Dahiyeh (literally, the suburb)—also had to cope with hundreds of thousands of displaced people who settled there from the south and the Beqaa. To alleviate poverty in this area, as well as the south and the Beqaa Valley, a social welfare network developed alongside the Shiite political mobilization in the 1970s and 1980s, with key actors including al-Sadr, Fadlallah, and Hizballah. Today, Hizballah functions as an umbrella organization under which many social institutions are run. Some of these institutions provide monthly support and supplemental nutritional, educational, housing, and health assistance for the poor; others focus on supporting orphans; still others are devoted to reconstruction of war-damaged areas. There are also Hizballah-affiliated schools, clinics, and low-cost hospitals, including a school for children with Down’s syndrome. Hizballah is not the only major actor in the social welfare arena. Another large network of organizations is affiliated with Fadlallah. There are also a number of smaller independent welfare-provision organizations founded and run by pious Shiite women, as well as family associations that serve as gathering spaces or links for the various branches of a large extended family. These social welfare institutions are located around Lebanon and serve the local people regardless of sect, though they are concentrated in the mainly Shiite Muslim areas of the country. They are run almost entirely through volunteer labor, mostly that of women. ... It is the social welfare aspect of the party’s activities that sometimes leads to accusations that Hizballah is a 'state within a state.' A more apt phrasing may be that it is a 'state within a non-state.' The party’s welfare provision network is commensurate with the sectarian relationship between state and society in Lebanon, and fills a lacuna left by the state in poor Shiite areas of the country. When the state steps up, Hizballah has thus far demonstrated that it will step back. For example, when Sukleen, the private company to which the Lebanese government contracted garbage collection, began servicing the southern suburbs of Beirut, Hizballah promptly discontinued its own garbage collection services."

Lara Deeb, “Hizballah and Its Civilian Constituencies in Lebanon,” in The War on Lebanon: A Reader, eds. Nubar Hovsepian and Rashid Khalidi (2007)

#lebanon #resistance #history #library

[totowlff]

monaco nights

➝ request: an one-shot where toto and reader have a discussion but he kind to her even if he is angry at her

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: a lot of alcohol consumption, insinuated sexual harrassment

➝ author’s note: i know i promised this one-shot for the weekend, but unfortunately, my routine wore me out unexpectedly and i took some time to rest my head. however, that doesn't mean we can't start the week off right. hope you like it!

You closed the lip gloss tube and rubbed your lips together, the gloss spreading over the layer of nude lipstick you'd put on earlier. You stepped back from the bathroom mirror, checking your makeup, looking for any flaws in your work. Your eyeliner framed your gaze, as did your full lashes, while your cheekbones shimmered with the glow of the highlighter you’d applied.

“Perfect”, you thought, flashing a confident smile. You put the gloss back in your makeup bag and stashed the bag back in the bathroom cabinet. You left the bathroom, satisfied with your work. You weren’t a professional makeup artist, but you knew enough to make yourself feel beautiful without being flamboyant. It was contradictory, but it was apt — after all, it was the perfect description for the small town you lived in, sandwiched between the Mediterranean and the French Alps. 

“Glamorous, but small”, you thought as you walked toward the suite's king-size bed to pick up the small silver bag you’d chosen for the night.

Monaco has always fascinated you. Ever since you were little, it was amazing. Maybe it was the sea breeze swaying the sails of the boats moored in the marina, maybe it was the picturesque landscape that stretched out in front of the Palais des Princes de Monaco, or maybe it was the way the city came alive once Grand Prix season brough the races. It didn’t matter why, but it was your favorite place in the world.

In the last few months, Monaco has become even more special to you. 

You slid open a mirrored door and entered the walk-in closet, feeling for the light switch along the wall. As you turned on the lights, a small room filled with clothes appeared in front of you. Suits, pants, shirts, shoes, all meticulously arranged. As you passed the rows of dress shirts hanging up, you couldn’t resist running your fingertips along the fabric, where they were monogrammed just above the waist. Your eyes locked on one of the shirts and you ran your fingertips across the threads, feeling the three letters.

TCW.

The monogram stood for Torger Christian Wolff, or, simply “Toto”, as he’d introduced himself to you when you met him at the Grand Prix de Monaco Historique that had been held in Monte-Carlo in May.

You were a member of the organizing committee for the race, and worked for the Automobile Club de Monaco, so it was expected that you’d participate in that weekend’s activities. However, even outside of work, you had a passion for motorsport that meant that you followed everything closely, including the cars participating in the exhibition races and laps.

During one of your walks through the pit area, you found the team principal of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team standing next to a red car with a familiar name painted on the bodywork.

— This is my favorite — you heard him say after a few seconds, as he stood beside you.

Lifting your face to look at Toto, you raised an eyebrow.

— Favorite car?

— Among the ones Niki drove? Yes.

— Any particular reason?

— Because it was his least favorite.

— Why? — you asked.

Toto's eyes met yours with a mischievous gleam.

— Because it was a shitbox.

You looked away at the car, a shy smile on your lips.

— You know you're talking about a Ferrari.

— Those are Niki’s words, not mine.

— I assume you agree with them, Mr. Wolff — you said, looking up at him again.

— I've always trusted my friend's judgment, miss, uh — he hesitated for a second, trying to read your name from the name tag around your neck.

— Y/L/N — you said, extending your hand to him — Y/N Y/L/N, I'm part of the event's organizing committee.

He shook your hand.

— It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.

To your surprise, the connection between you was almost immediate. There was something about those dark eyes and infectious smile that drew you in, like a moth drawn to flame, or metal to a magnet. 

In the end, falling in love with Toto Wolff was inevitable, as was your first kiss, shared outside of your apartment on a warm June night. Even more inevitable was agreeing to his request that you be his girlfriend, after he presented you with a black velvet box with a delicate ring — a promise ring — nestled inside.

Walking to the back of the closet, you bent down slightly to pick up a pair of shoes from one of the shelves. It was a pair of your shoes that you’d left at his house on the frequent occasions where you stayed over. He had already asked you to live with him in the sumptuous penthouse he owned across from Plage du Larvotto, but it was important to you that you still had your own place, at least for now. Your hesitance to move in with him resulted in each of you having space in the other’s wardrobes, bathrooms, and refrigerator shelves.

It could be simpler, you knew that, but something inside of you urged you to not rush things in the relationship, and moving in with him was a big step. 

You walked down the hallway leading to the living room with your strappy silver heels in one hand and your purse in the other. The penthouse was decorated in elegant shades of white, gray, and turquoise, and was tastefully appointed. Toto was sitting on the white sofa, reading something intently on his iPad — probably the Financial Times, or emails from Brackley about progress on the W14. 

You settled down on the couch next to him, putting your shoes on the floor to slip them on and buckle the clasp, one after another, in silence. You stood up, straightening the hem of your dress, as it had started to ride up a bit. 

— Mon chou? — Toto said, his tone laden with hesitation.

— Yeah? — you turned to face him.

A few seconds of silence later, your boyfriend asked the question you least expected to hear from him.

— Are you going out… Like that? — he asked, in a quiet voice.

Your gaze shifted from his face, down to your outfit. You’d put on a body-hugging navy blue satin dress. It clung to your curves, leaving little to the imagination. It wasn’t outrageously short or low-cut, but it was definitely sexy.

— Yes, I’d planned to — you replied, smiling awkwardly — Why?

Toto pressed his lips together, trying to consider his words carefully.

— Don't you think — he paused for a few seconds — That dress might cause you a bit of… Trouble?

The smile faded from your face.

— What do you mean, trouble?

— Well, I saw it riding up when you stood up, and…

— It only went up a little, no big deal — you said, grabbing your purse off of the couch. You opened it to check to make sure you had everything you needed.

— It wasn't just a little bit — he muttered, quietly.

You sighed, trying to contain your irritation. You definitely didn’t want to argue with your boyfriend about your choice in clothing. You realized that your cell phone wasn't in your purse and walked back to the bedroom to retrieve it.  When you returned, Toto was still looking at you. He looked uncomfortable.

— Mon chou, don't you think you'd better bring at least a coat?

— Why? — you asked, your irritation apparent in your voice — It's not cold out.

— Well, it might get cold later — he said — And I wouldn't want you to be so…

— Exposed? — you supplied, cutting him off.

— Yeah — he said, softly — Exposed.

You looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was joking. Toto never said anything about the clothes you wore — quite the contrary, he normally showered you with compliments. You weren’t sure what problem he could be having now, and you needed to find out.

— I've worn this dress before, though, and you didn't think I was overly exposed then — you said, glancing quickly at the time on your cell phone screen.

— Because we were together then, Y/N.

— You mean I can only wear this dress when I’m with you?  — you said, a little indignantly.

— No, that's not it…

— So, what is it?

Toto stared at you in silence.

— Come on, Toto, say something — you growled.

— You can wear whatever you want, I just think that dress is… It exposes you a bit too much, and considering where you're going and the fact that you'll be without male companionship, you'd be better off wearing something more conservative...

You shook your head.

— Are you hearing what you're saying?

— Y/N, I'm just thinking about your safety…

— My safety? — you said in a sneering tone — Since when do you care about my safety, Toto?

He got up from the couch, approaching you.

— From the moment I realized that I love you — he said, reaching for your hand. You pulled it out of his reach.

— If you really loved me, you would accept the way I dress without question.

— Y/N, I'm not questioning the way you dress, I'm just…

— You are, though — you exclaimed, annoyed.

— I just don't want anything to happen to you, Y/N — he said, frustration rising in his voice.

— Nothing will happen to me, Toto.

— What if something does? There's a lot of weird guys out there and I won't be around...

— As if you’d be able to do anything  — you spat.

— I'm not useless, Y/N.

— Well, neither am I. Just because I'm a woman doesn’t mean that I don't know how to defend myself.

He swallowed hard.

— Mon chou, please…

— Don't even start with that 'mon chou' thing, Torger! I'm not going to change my clothes just to please your controlling ass.

— I'm not being controlling! — he yelled.

— What do you call telling me to change, then? — you yelled back.

— I'm just trying to take care of you, Y/N! 

You laughed bitterly.

— Taking care of me? You call that taking care of me? Soon, you’ll be not allowing me to go out with my friends! Soon, you’ll be telling me that I can’t have a job outside of the home! Soon, you’ll have an issue with the fact that I have my own life! You’ll want me to just stay home, waiting for you to come back from your damned races and doing… Who knows what, or who else!

— You're not implying — he growled, stepping forward, his face inches from yours.

— I didn't imply anything, Torger — you said, sarcastically.

— Y/N…

— I just want to make it clear that if you want a woman to be as your trophy, who you can bring to your events to hang on your arm like a fucking doll, then you've picked the wrong woman.

— I don't want a doll...

— Oh, yes you do, I’ve seen it in your eyes that you do — you said in a low, almost teasing voice — But it’s not going to be me.

Toto was silent, clearly exercising a great deal of control so as to not lose his temper.

— You can control your companies, your staff, your kids, whatever the fuck, but you can’t control me, Torger Christian Wolff.

— I’m not trying to control you! — he yelled, gesticulating violently.

— Yes, you are! — you said, almost yelling again  — You want an ornament for you to put on your fucking arm and take to fucking FIA parties. You want a woman who will accept anything without question, who will be silent, who will do whatever you want...

— Fuck, Y/N, I'm your boyfriend! Not your owner! — he grumbled.

— I'm glad you realize that, Torger! — you yelled in his face — You don't own me and you never will!

He hesitated for a moment, putting a hand to his face.

— You know what? — Toto said, his voice terrifyingly serene — Do what you want, Y/N.

— Good! I will! — you yelled, going with heavy steps towards the door — You can’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do!

Toto didn't have a comeback, which you thought was a good sign you’d won the argument. However, as soon as you put your hand on the doorknob, you heard him say your name behind you. You resisted for a few seconds the urge to turn away, however, when he repeated your name, you looked at him.

Your eyes met for a moment, but whatever words he wanted to say to you got lost on their way to his lips. 

With an incredulous chuckle, you just muttered a single sentence.

— Don't wait up for me.

Slamming the penthouse door, you walked to the elevator, slamming your fist on the button. Taking a deep breath, you felt like crying, feeling the tears building up in your eyes. 

But you wouldn't give Toto the satisfaction, not tonight. “I'm going to have fun tonight”, you thought.

The walk to Jimmy'z didn’t really help calm you down. The click of your heels against the sidewalk, which would have normally been a comforting sound, was swallowed up by the sound of the engines of the luxury cars crossing Avenue Princesse Grace, as well as the conversations of tourists, and the wind that swayed the treetops in your path.

When you arrived at the entrance to the Monte-Carlo Bay Hotel complex, where the nightclub was located, you saw your friends Noémi, Carmen, and Marion waiting for your arrival. They all looked a little impatient. You smiled at them and  waved at them across the street. After crossing to the other side, you approached them and they immediately welcomed you with hugs and smiles.

— Finally, Y/N! — Marion said, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear — We were already thinking you'd managed to get lost in here.

— No, just had a — you hesitated for a few seconds — Mishap with the dress.

— Well, I’m glad you figured it out, because you look beautiful — Carmen said, a wide smile on her red lips.

— Thank you — you forced a smile, trying to disguise the mix of sadness and anger that a piece of clothing had put you through.

— Shall we go inside? — Noémi asked, putting a hand on your shoulder and the other on Marion's arm.

— Yes, let's go — you said, quickly.

The night passed in a blur through your eyes. Empty shot glasses from tequila shots were piling up on your table, glowing under the neon lights. There were also tall glasses from mojitos, margarita coupettes, and the glasses from the champagne you'd consumed inside the club, all to the sound of the lively conversation and rhythmic beats that came from the speakers.

However, you were not having a good time. You were sitting in front of that mess of glasses and shiny bags with your makeup smeared by the tears falling down your face. Your sobs were drowned out by the loud music, but those close to your table could hear them. Next to you, Carmen had her hands on your shoulders, attempting to comfort you, with little success.

— He was right, Carmen — you sobbed, your hands gripping your arms, crossed tightly over your body, as if you could protect yourself. You felt helplessness, anger, and guilt, all mixing in the pit of your stomach.

— Y/N, it’s not your fault — your friend spoke into your ear, bringing her thumb up to your cheek and wiping away a tear that was running down.

— I should have listened to him, I should have changed my dress — you said, the words dragging on your tongue. You had been drinking way more than you should have.

— No, that’s not it, Y/N — Carmen said, lifting your face — You have the right to wear what you want, as well as the right to be respected for it.

Your friend's words caused more tears to fall from your eyes. Carmen muttered something that was covered by the music and wrapped you in an awkward hug. With your head resting on her shoulder, you continued sobbing, tears dark from your makeup falling onto your friend's green dress. At that moment, you only wanted one thing.

— Toto — you mumbled against her shoulder.

— What? — she asked you, turning your face away from her shoulder.

— Toto — you repeated, between sobs — I want Toto.

— Okay, Y/N, I'll take you to him. I'll let the girls know we’re leaving and I’ll take you to his apartment, okay?

You nodded, sniffling, as Carmen got up from the table and disappeared into the crowd to find Marion and Noémi, enjoying themselves on the dancefloor. 

A few minutes later, she returned and, with a tap on your shoulder, signaled you to leave the nightclub.

The walk to Toto's penthouse was tortuous and slow. The alcohol in your body kept you from balancing in your high-heeled shoes. After nearly spraining your right ankle for what felt like the third time, you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, annoyed, and began to unbuckle your sandals.

— This fucking shoe — you muttered, throwing one of them to the ground. 

However, the other seemed to be stuck on your foot, making frustration grow inside your chest and causing tears to well up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you leaned your head back against the wall behind you, trying to calm down.

Carmen, realizing that you were having issues, bent down and unbuckled your sandal. She took the pair of shoes and grabbed your hand, urging you to follow her the few meters left between you and the entrance to Toto’s building. Trying to unlock the front door, you opened your bag and started looking for your key, but after fiddling around awkwardly in your purse for a few seconds, you huffed.

— Let me get it — your friend said, taking your purse and finding the keys in a matter of seconds. You were completely confused by the way she'd managed to find them so quickly and watched her open the entrance door.

— How? — you muttered, pointing to the key.

— Never mind — she said, placing your purse, key, and shoes in your hands — Do you want me to go upstairs or can you go it alone from here?

— I'll go alone — you replied, trying to organize everything she’d set in your hands.

— Alright, Y/N. Go upstairs, take a shower, take some aspirin, and go to sleep, okay?

— Okay — you said in a thin voice, walking robotically toward the elevator.

— Good night, Y/N — you heard Carmen say behind you, to which you responded with something that sounded more like a growl than words. You pressed the button and the doors instantly opened. You staggered into the elevator car, clumsily hitting  the top floor equivalent button, leaning your forehead against the polished metal wall, and closed your eyes. 

“Tonight was a mistake”, you thought.

After the elevator doors opened on the top floor, you walked slowly to the apartment door. You tried to put the key into the lock a few times before accidentally hitting the handle and finding it unlocked. 

You opened the door carelessly, you only remembered that you had told Toto not to wait up for you when you realized the lights in the house were off.

“Shit”, you said quietly, as you slowly closed the door. You set your things down carefully on the sideboard in the entranceway, trying not to make any noise, and staggered down the hall, guided through the darkness by a light coming from the living room. 

However, upon stepping into the living room, you found Toto awake and sitting next to the lamp — you hadn’t expected that.

— Y/N — he said, getting up quickly — Did something happen? I tried calling you all night, but you didn't answer.

— Yes — you replied, your voice a little choked by the lump growing in your throat — It happened.

Toto noticed that your makeup had run off from with your tears, leaving a gray path on your skin. He put his hands on your cheeks and stroked the marks gently with his thumb. 

— What happened?

— You were right — you muttered, staring into space. You didn't have the courage to look Toto in the eyes after everything you'd said to him hours before, especially after everything that had happened — There were a bunch of strange men at Jimmy'z today.

— Did they do something to you? Did they touch you?

— No, they just — you hesitated, the memory making you feel a little nauseous — They said things to me when I went to the bathroom.

— What did they say?

— They said that — you stopped again, the nausea growing stronger, your mouth filling with saliva. 

Before you knew it, you'd staggered into the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, and started vomiting. You felt your abdominal muscles contract to expel everything in your stomach. 

Eventually, you stopped long enough to lift your head out of the bowl, panting from the effort your body had made to rid itself of the exorbitant amount of alcohol you'd been drinking, that you realized Toto was kneeling behind you, one hand holding your hair away from your face, the other one, rubbing your back.

— You didn't have to do that — you said quietly, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You flushed the toilet and sat on the bathroom floor, still unable to look Toto in the face. A mixture of guilt and shame was building up in your chest.

— Didn’t have to do what? — he asked, tucking a few strands of your hair carefully behind your ear.

— Well, this — you gestured with your hand between the toilet and your body.

— I'm just doing what I wish they had done for me last December.

You looked up at Toto and found him with a slight smile on his face.

— What happened in December? — you asked.

— Well, more or less, I drank way too much tequila during the constructors' title celebrations. After I ended up crowd surfing at the afterparty and losing my shirt, I spent a while clinging to the toilet in my hotel room, bringing up everything I’d drank that night.

Your lips curved into a shy smile.

— The hangover must have been awful.

— It was — he laughed, taking your hand — But yours will be worse if we don’t get you taken care of.

— What can we do? — you asked, looking at Toto's hand, his thumb lightly stroking your skin.

— Come with me — he said, rising up off the ground and helping you up with him.

Once you were both standing, he led you down the hall slowly, taking care for you to not trip over your own feet in the process. Once you were in the bedroom, you went straight to the ensuite bathroom, where Toto led you to the black quartz sink. 

Then, he turned you around and grabbed you by the waist, boosting you up to sit on the countertop. The contact of your warm skin against the cold stone countertop made you giggle.

— What's the matter? — he asked you.

— It's cold — you said, swinging your feet against the cabinet.

With a smile, he bent down and opened the cabinet right below you, looking for something.

— Where is it? — Toto muttered to himself — Oh, here.

He put your makeup bag on the countertop, unzipping it and rummaging through the contents, trying to find something.

— What are you looking for? — you asked.

— Those wipes you use to remove your makeup.

— Oh, it's in that bag — you said, absentmindedly.

Toto took a long breath.

That was definitely not the answer he needed.

To make the search easier, Toto began pulling out the makeup items from your bag. First came a gloss and a lipstick, then an eyeshadow kit, a stick highlighter and a liquid blush, and then it was the turn of foundation and compact powder. Then, a few seconds later, he set a small, slightly crumpled lilac packet down on top of the sink.

— Oh, that's it — you exclaimed, pointing to the package.

— These are the wipes? — Toto asked, taking the package in his hand and studying it.

— Yes — you replied, smiling.

Putting all of your makeup back in the case, he opened the package and took out a damp wipe. Then, folding it over, Toto approached you and started rubbing it on your face, the wet sensation making you flinch and laugh. Your reaction brought a small smile to his face.

— What's the problem?

— It tickles and it’s cold — you smiled, as he brought the wipe back to your face, in a new attempt to clean your skin. However, all he had to do was start wiping your cheek with a concentrated look that made you again, turning your face away from him.

— Y/N — he sighed.

— You look so cute when you’re concentrating — you said between giggles.

— You know what would make you look cute, mon chou? — Toto asked in a low voice, placing his hands on the sides of your thighs, a sly smile on his lips. The sight of him bending over you like that sent a wave of heat through your body toward your pussy.

— If I was naked, with you inside me — you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek, caressing it.

— No, Y/N — he said quietly — You'd look very cute sitting still for me so I can finish wiping your face. Can you do that for me?

You blinked, processing the response. You definitely weren't expecting that. Judging from the smug smile on Toto's face, he knew he'd taken you by surprise. You nodded and sat still long enough for him to finish.

Watching Toto's expression as he brushed the smudges of eyeliner and mascara off your cheeks, you felt something tighten in your chest. It was Saturday night, and instead of sleeping, he was taking care of you — cleaning off your makeup for you after a silly argument over a dress.

— Toto? — you said softly.

— Yes? — he muttered.

— Are you still mad at me?

He looked into your eyes for a few seconds, as if he was trying to carefully choose his words.

— Let's talk about it in the morning, Y/N — he replied, dropping the dirty makeup remover wipe that was in his hand on the sink and reaching for another to continue cleaning your face in silence.

— But, I want to talk about it now — you said, after a few seconds of hesitation.

— You're in no condition to have a conversation about it, Y/N.

— Yes, I am, Toto.

He lowered his hand from your face and looked at you seriously.

— Y/N, I'm not going to argue with you right now, I’m tired, and you’re drunk.

— Well, you know what they say, drunken words are sober thoughts — you muttered.

— After today, I'd rather you keep your thoughts to yourself.

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach. “He's still mad at me”, you thought, pressing your lips together. 

However, you couldn’t fault Toto for being upset with you, especially considering everything you'd said to him. 

Not only did you piss him off, you called him controlling, possessive, and insinuated that he cheated on you. Yet, he was there in front of you, cleaning your skin, touching you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You had fucked up.

— I'm done — Toto said, picking up the dirty wipes and throwing them in the trash.

Silently, you slid your hips across the sink, settling on your feet in front of the counter. You turned to the mirror, finding your face immaculately clean, without a trace of makeup.

— Thanks — you said in a low voice, looking at Toto through the reflection.

— No problem — Toto muttered, exiting the bathroom and leaving you alone. You stared into your own gaze in the mirror, your throat tightening.

You had definitely fucked up.

Once you left the bathroom, you noticed one of Toto’s t-shirts on the bed. It was neatly folded, as if it was waiting for you. Running your fingers over the gray fabric, you hesitated for a few seconds, trying to figure out what it was sitting there for. It took you a few minutes to connect the dots.

— He got me a change of clothes — you muttered to yourself.

As you unzipped the zipper on the side of the dress, the blue satin sagged around your body, falling to your feet. You stripped down to your underwear — it was white lace, but it was comfortable enough to sleep in. You took the t-shirt off of the bed and pulled it over your head. You shoved it on unceremoniously and you were soon enveloped in the familiar scent that permeated the fabric.

As you dropped your body onto the bed, you felt your heart sink, guilt consuming you like a fire in the dry vegetation. It didn't take long for the tears to start running down your face again, falling onto the gray fabric. “Dumb, dumb, dumb”, you thought.

You heard footsteps echoing down the hall that made you look up with a sniffle, your hands quickly drying your cheeks. You tried to take a few breaths to try to stave off the tightness in your throat as you looked toward the door and saw Toto come in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill in the other.

— What’s that?

— Ibuprofen — he said, placing the pill in your hand — To help with the hangover.

You brought the pill to your tongue and took the glass of water, taking a generous swig. When you took the glass away from your lips, Toto already had his hand stretched out to you.

— Thanks —  you whispered, handing him the glass.

— No problem — he said, his cold tone piercing you like a stab wound.

Watching Toto walk towards the bedside table and put down your glass, you started to wonder if you should say anything. 

However, you knew that no matter what you said, it wouldn't be enough to really express what you felt, much less to assuage the anger he was feeling towards you.

“But if he's angry, why would he do all this?”, you wondered, as he went to the bathroom and turned off the light. 

His eyes met your and his serious mask dissolved almost instantly.

— Y/N? You are crying?

You hadn't even felt the tears running down your face again. You sniffled, trying to dry them quickly.

— No…

Toto approached you and bent down in front of you, hands resting on your knees. His expression was a silent request for you to open up to him and tell him what was bothering you. 

You'd seen that look many times.

— I'm a shitty person — you spluttered, more tears falling from your eyes.

— You're not a shitty person, Y/N — Toto said, his right thumb stroking your skin.

— How am I not, Toto? Did you hear the things I said to you?

He sighed.

— Yes, I did.

— Fuck. I said all that, left, pissed at you. Everything you were afraid of happening actually happened, and instead of you saying something like 'I told you so' or 'you deserved it', you just hold my hair back for me as I throw up in your nice bathroom — you continued — And then, you take off my makeup for me, give me medicine, and set out some clothes for me so I can sleep in your bed.

— Do you know why I did all of that, Y/N?

You shook your head.

— It was the same reason I wanted you to take at least a coat with you — Toto whispered, wiping a tear that was halfway down your cheek — Because I love you.

— Why?

— Why… Why do I love you?

— No. Why did you want me to take a coat?

— Do you remember the first time you wore that dress?

You nodded. The occasion stood out in your mind — it was at a party put on by IWC in Berlin over the past summer. It had been one of your first appearances with Toto, practically a public declaration of your relationship. That night, you had worn the dress with some other accessories. You thought you looked elegant and drop-dead sexy.

— I didn't tell you this, but during the party, while you were dancing, I saw some guys looking at you in a… Weird way. They were pointing at you and talking about you. It looked like they were planning something.

— Is that why you came to the dance floor with me?

— Exactly. Even though I was a disaster, I stayed with you to discourage them. Unfortunately this world is full of bad people and I didn't want to risk anything happening to you.

You sniffled.

— When you said you were going out in that dress, I got nervous. Obviously, you have the right to wear whatever you want and, by the way, you look stunning in it. But I was so afraid something would happen to you, and this time, I wouldn't be there to help you.

Your eyes focused on the movement of Toto's thumb against his skin. You didn't have the courage to look into his eyes.

— I found myself in a dilemma, Y/N. Either I could try to warn you, or I could say nothing and brood over everything that could happen because there are men out there who just don't know how to respect a woman wearing an outfit she likes. I decided to take a chance, thinking you would understand my concerns. But your reaction was, how should I say…

— Explosive? — you stammered.

— Yeah — he replied — I won't say I wasn't offended by what you said. It's not easy to hear the ones you love call you things you were pretty sure you weren't until that moment. Useless, controlling, possessive…

You pursed your lips. He had never been any of that.

— But the hardest thing to hear was the insinuation that I had already cheated on you.

Your eyes met his.

— Where did you get that idea from? — Toto asked.

— I grew up here, Toto. I always heard the stories of drivers who took advantage of the private parties to cheat on their partners. You remember what happened to Pérez this year…

He sighed.

— I spent all night wondering if I'd given you reason to distrust me, if I'd done something that planted a seed of doubt in your head. I've always tried to make it clear that you're the only woman I want — Toto said, drying off another tear — You are the love of my life, Y/N.

You brought your hand to his face, your thumb caressing his skin.

— I don't deserve you, Toto.

His lips curved into a shy smile.

— Yes, you do deserve me, mon chou. And I deserve you.

The silence stretched for a few seconds.

— Can you forgive me?

— Yes, Y/N — he answered you, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on the palm — I forgive you.

You smiled a genuine smile for the first time that night.

— Will you lay down with me?

— Yes, Y/N — Toto said, standing from where he was kneeling.

You settled back into the king-sized bed, and watched Toto lie down beside you, sliding across the mattress towards you. You nestled your head against his chest, feeling him envelop you in a tight embrace. You were lulled into a light doze by the sound of his heartbeat. 

Some time later, you felt him press his nose to your head and sniff.

— You should have probably taken a shower, mon chou.

— Why? — you asked.

— You still smell like a nightclub — Toto muttered.

— Fuck you — you laughed, hugging him tighter.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fluff #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #formula 1 one shot #oneshotwlff

[doingthehardthings]

#noexcusenovember updates @m0tiv8me! Yesterday I succeeded in a few areas: I did not look at my phone in the morning & also meditated. I did a lengthy, several hour deep clean of the apt, which was stress-induced. But also, now things feel lighter and more organized!

Today was incredibly productive and in alignment with my goals. I woke up early (9 AM on a Sunday is very early for me), immediately put my phone away, started several loads of laundry and read some poems & from my book for an hour or so. It was so, so lovely to be connected the morning instead of escaping from it into my phone. More of that. Meditated, laundry, cut a dude off that's been troubling me (cmone boundaries! communication! self-regard!) via a phone call that he clearly wasn't trying to have (more on this later, prolly on my other blog). Did my workout--abs + weights. Here's a video of me planking as evidence:

One of my goals for #noexcusenovember is to try one new thing a week. I did that today! My friend needed professional head shots. I dabble with photography but haven't ever done head shots. I am nervous and shy doing most anything in public that might catch a person's attention: so I was feeling anxious to take her pictures at the park nearby. But once I leveled that camera and started shooting everything faded away: I was so focused on finding the light and getting good shots, and it was so, so fun. We had a gorgeous dinner afterwards. She's a dear friend and I love talking to her.

It's unseasonably warm here, so I laced up my shoes and decided to walk tonight. I wasn't planning on doing my six miles, but ended up going and going and going. It was gorgeous.

Today was real good. I'm proud of myself.

#noexcusenovember #motivation #I DID that. #the planking video is inspired by katya #if you know you know hehe

[yeonban]

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   ♡   𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄.

@lunargifted asked: 🍏 !

🍏  :    how stable is my muse’s physical health?  do they go for regular or semi-regular checkups by a physician?  do they have any diagnosed illnesses and / or take any medication?  how often do they get sick?

Nikolai is perfectly apt, and he could easily become the relevant point of comparison for anyone who wishes to become healthier and requires a goal to look up to while doing so. Despite his risky lifestyle, his constant contact with poisons and weapons and his tendency for harmful behaviors, Nikolai could never be healthier than he currently is. He tends to train often, exercising every day, and he has no vices (ex. drinking, smoking etc) to speak of, so his organs are all in flawless condition as well. His constitution is especially noteworthy, particularly at the prime of his life, as he hasn't caught a single cold even after living in the harshest of climates. He could, and did, go for a swim in the Lake Baikal during winter months to test and expand his limits, and has emerged from the experience without having sniffled even once. Because of this, he doesn't bother meeting up with physicians nor doctors of any kind, and typically doesn't care to check his physical health with a professional.

Ango, on the other hand, arranges appointments with physicians and doctors from various fields every six months, to make sure his health hasn't yet deteriorated beyond repair. Unlike Nikolai, Ango's body is much more fragile, catching a cold whenever the temperature drops or rises significantly from one day to the next. Moreover, Ango's stressful lifestyle and tendency towards overworking consistently endangers his health, at times requiring him to take medication to deal with the unwanted consequences. The medication is usually aimed at keeping his heart working as intended, since the stress, severe lack of sleep, dubious choices of food and biological factors all lead to irregular heartbeats and frequent heart stings. It isn't a life-threatening condition for now, but it is a bother and definitely a concern. Besides this, Ango also necessitates meds for headaches every so often, but has learned how to ignore that pain, leading to a reduction in the amount of pills he takes for this purpose. Ango is frankly every doctor's nightmare patient, because he rarely adheres strictly to their advice and always wounds up right back in their office, generally in a worse condition than he'd been before.

#muse: nikolai gogol. #muse: sakaguchi ango. #lunargifted #* nikolai gogol. / development. #* sakaguchi ango. / development. #heart problems / #ask to tag #TY FOR SENDING!! #Nikolai is the PEAK of healthiness. No healthier man has ever walked on this earth before. Meanwhile Ango is Barely holding himself tgether

[criptochecca]

“One night during the last months at Rock Bay I found myself intensely restless. This was after I had confirmed that my grant wouldn’t be renewed and before I had any prospects of a new job. I had brought another stranger I knew back from the bar to try to distract myself from my situation, but he had left hours ago. I had a wakefulness that I could not shake, and I was still drunk. It was stupid and dangerous, but I decided to get in my truck and drive out to the tidal pools. I wanted to creep up on all of that hidden life and try to surprise it somehow. I had gotten it into my mind that the tidal pools changed during the night when no one watched. This is what happens, perhaps, if you have been studying something so long that you can tell one sea anemone from another in an instant, could have picked out any denizen of those tidal pools from a lineup if it had committed a crime.

So I parked the truck, took the winding trail down to the grainy beach, making my way with the aid of a tiny flashlight attached to my key chain. Then I sloshed through the shallows and climbed up onto the sheet of rock. I really wanted to lose myself. People my entire life have told me I am too much in control, but that has never been the case. I have never truly been in control, have never wanted control.

That night, even though I had come up with a thousand excuses to blame others, I knew I had screwed up. Not filing reports. Not sticking to the focus of the job. Recording odd data from the periphery. Nothing that might satisfy the organization that had provided the grant. I was the queen of the tidal pools, and what I said was the law, and what I reported was what I had wanted to report. I had gotten sidetracked, like I always did, because I melted into my surroundings, could not remain separate from, apart from, objectivity a foreign land to me.

I went to tidal pool after tidal pool with my pathetic flashlight, losing my balance half a dozen times and almost falling. If anyone had been observing—and who is to say now that they were not?—they would have seen a cursing, half-drunk, reckless biologist who had lost all perspective, who was out in the middle of nowhere for the second straight year and feeling vulnerable and lonely, even though she’d promised herself she would never get lonely. The things she had done and said that society labeled antisocial or selfish. Seeking something in the tidal pools that night even though what she found during the day was miraculous enough. She might even have been shouting, screaming, whirling about on those slippery rocks as if the best boots in the world couldn’t fail you, send you falling to crack your skull, give you a forehead full of limpets and barnacles and blood.

But the fact is, even though I didn’t deserve it—did I deserve it? and had I really just been looking for something familiar?—I found something miraculous, something that uncovered itself with its own light. I spied a glinting, wavery promise of illumination coming from one of the larger tidal pools, and it gave me pause. Did I really want a sign? Did I really want to discover something or did I just think I did? Well, I decided I did want to discover something, because I walked toward it, suddenly sobered up enough to watch my steps, to shuffle along so I wouldn’t crack my skull before I saw whatever it was in that pool.

What I found when I finally stood there, hands on bent knees, peering down into that tidal pool, was a rare species of colossal starfish, six-armed, larger than a saucepan, that bled a dark gold color into the still water as if it were on fire. Most of us professionals eschewed its scientific name for the more apt “destroyer of worlds.” It was covered in thick spines, and along the edges I could just see, fringed with emerald green, the most delicate of transparent cilia, thousands of them, propelling it along upon its appointed route as it searched for its prey: other, lesser starfish. I had never seen a destroyer of worlds before, even in an aquarium, and it was so unexpected that I forgot about the slippery rock and, shifting my balance, almost fell, steadying myself with one arm propped against the edge of the tidal pool.

But the longer I stared at it the less comprehensible the creature became. The more it became something alien to me, and the more I had a sense that I knew nothing at all—about nature, about ecosystems. There was something about my mood and its dark glow that eclipsed sense, that made me see this creature, which had indeed been assigned a place in the taxonomy—catalogued, studied, and described—irreducible down to any of that. And if I kept looking, I knew that ultimately I would have to admit I knew less than nothing about myself as well, whether that was a lie or the truth.

When I finally wrenched my gaze from the starfish and stood again, I could not tell where the sky met the sea, whether I faced the water or the shore. I was completely adrift, and dislocated, and all I had to navigate by in that moment was the glowing beacon below me.”

Annihilation, Jeff Vandermeer

#southern reach trilogy #annihilation #books

[brynnutonium]

brynn utonium ( she/her ), currently twenty-five years old. super human, tech project manager. ( lee sung kyung, based on blossom from the powerpuff girls )

biography / musings

( written by jess, she/they, cst -- hello !! )

SECTION ONE - about

Brynn often feels like she has to remain control of things, otherwise things would inevitably go awry and it will partially be her fault - not that that would be something she'll admit to. More often than not, she'll even keep people at an arm's length until she's able to ascertain how exactly she can act around them.

She liked routines, things being neat, and things going according to plan. But she also likes to think that she was the kind of leader that knows how to roll with the punches and adapts quickly and with intention. As she pursues start-ups around Evermore and boldly supports all efforts to thwart crime however she can ( even if unneeded or unnecessary ), Brynn keeps an underlying ( hidden ) agenda and that is how to solve the whole mystique of Evermore: how to break it and ultimately, how to escape it.

But until she finds the answers she needs, Brynn tries to genuinely enjoy Evermore and all she has to offer.

SECTION TWO - headcanons

( note: taking some tidbits from the original series, the epic fanfiction titled 'more than human', and even the anime PPGZ because i was totally obsessed with it when i was younger )

Because she likes to have a clear plan of her life, Brynn tends to be very particular about how she plans things. She has notebooks and binders filled and organized about various things. Her planner has to be of the 'daily' variety and every other hour is scheduled; the young woman likes to be kept busy, in that she doesn't have to think about how Evermore doesn't quite need the Powerpuff Girls like Townsville used to.

The best way to reach Brynn is by call, but she's alerted to them via vibrate mode. She tends to get irritated at phones that are turned up way loud; part of her thinks that a decade of having to be up at the mere sound of a phone ring is only now starting to catch up to her. Also, very much vibing with the idea of her having a smartwatch and her takingcalls on her smartwatch like a power ranger/boss lady hybrid.

Brynn Utonium is a ( ex? ) crime fighter, tech start-up leader/developer, ice-breather...and a closeted superhero/comics fan. She politely asks that you do not look inside her closet, because it is private ( there's a DIY Liberty Belle costume in there, inspired by who she thinks is the greatest superhero of all time: Freedom Gal ). It'll be hard to coax it out of her, Brynn tends to keep anything that doesn't fit her ideal public image a closely-kept secret.

While not something she does professionally or even around other people, Brynn enjoys dancing. It adds one more to her list of things she does that requires her whole focus and concentration and while it looks like it's so much work, Brynn revels in it and considers it a form of meditation. She likes blocking off time in her week for dance & other forms of working out.

Ever since the incident with Al Lusion/Abracadaver, Brynn has nursed a slight interest in magic. Although with all of the things she keeps herself busy with, her abilities only extend to amateur card tricks. She still won't try to explain how she pulled off her survival against Abracadaver either.

SECTION THREE - abilities

superhuman abilities.

Ice Breath - from ice pops to frozen statues, brynn's ice breath can be range from enjoyable to lethal. only works properly when she is in good health.

Pink lightning bolts - zap! zap!

Microscopic vision

Pink laser eye beams

Advanced intelligence & knowledge

Danger Sense

Fire Breath

leadership.

Enhanced intuition

Intuitive aptitude

Expert leadership skills

Apt planning skills

Master strategist

SECTION FOUR - connections

connections ( to be expanded upon )

#intro. #( this one's for the woman of the hour / brynn! )

[leahsfiction]

ahhhh this is a SOUP of old and new-ish ideas on a cql ancillary-ish AU

unedited first draft below:

--

"I don't like that you're here," Wen Qing tells the young woman sitting across from her. "But I'm not about to chase you out, either. And no matter what, I am a doctor."

"Then my brother -?"

Jiang Yanli finds one of his hands and pulls it towards her - it threatens to slip out of her damp, shaky grip. Wen Qing reaches over, her movements nonchalant and professional, and takes his pulse on the other wrist. "Steady and strong," she says. It's almost healthy, artificially lowered by a sedative patch from the frenzied gallop he'd woken up with. He'd tried to attack her. She's safe in using what amounts to a ridiculous lie if one thinks past the current five minutes, the traumatic past and the sure-to-be-violent future. But Jiang Yanli isn't thinking about that right now.

"Can I grab something for a migraine when you're done?" the Jiangs' companion - bodyguard? - butts in. He crinkles his nose and shoots Wen Qing a doleful look in the span of about three seconds. "The barometer drop has been really terrible on my nerves."

"I'll write something up - go outside, he'll fill it for you." She slants her eyebrows on outside, the most tact she can manage right now. She thinks she's got the young lady Jiang more or less handled; she hasn't had much time to get the measure of this Wei Wuxian.

She keeps her fingers on Jiang Wanyin's wrist absent-mindedly and loads her brush using her other hand. (Spiritual pulse: in far worse shape. A struggling, creeping trickle.) Writes the scrip from easy memory. (Meridians: fresh scarring, knots where heart-devils are apt to form. That is, if they don't narrow and collapse completely on themselves first.) Sets the brush back down on its support and waves the paper in the air to dry. As surely as if it's a battle flag, this draws Wei Wuxian back inside from the porch; in his wake is her brother.

"Wen Ning, let me help you, please, I'm going stir-crazy," Wei Wuxian says, as if he's talking to a human and not a Southern Zenith Pacification Unit.

The Peace Unit murmurs back something Wen Qing can't hear. A heavy creak as one metal-reinforced cyborg and one human beanpole step into the pharmacy.

Fuck. Well, he probably has sense enough not to poison her. They all know Jiang Wanyin won't stabilize without her help. If he gets away with something to sell or barter she'll just have to eat the loss rather than confront him and provoke a stupid reaction. It would mean having to sit down with A-Ning (after this whole Jiang business is over, however it ends) and teach him about - shit, she hasn't even taught him the basics of how to spot a thief yet, has she? What a headache.

--

setup stuff: wen qing made wen ning into what he is on her operating table - she'd be a tech medic in ancillary justice - but the process went wrong, (that's A Person in there, they've all only ever been people under your tools), that was the last straw, so she grabbed him and defected. they kind of violently adopted each other as siblings. i'm trying to come up with a matching ironic englishism of her name-pun - clemency? mercy? for the organization or project or something she belonged to.

"southern zenith" might get a better name later but it's bc the wen's vermilion bird's cardinal direction is south.

wen ning has logos etched into several internal components (with apologies to murderbot diaries) that wei wuxian will painstakingly remove for him.

#mine #the untamed #cyborg au

[penelopelima]

Look, I'm a big proponent of analyzing works of literature through the lens of feminism. I think it is extremely valuable, it adds a great deal of meaning and layers of interpretation to not only the work itself, but the many works that have been influenced or in conversation with it since. I think there is immense value in engaging fully with a text and critiquing its ideological content and messaging. I will always defend this. I also think criticism of the author's life and politics is relevant to the criticism of their work.

But at the same time, my biggest fucking pet peeve is when people go "this classic is X and I refuse to engage with it" or "this author is X so I refuse to read anything by him". And I don't mean in real, day to day life. Read whatever you want for pleasure, I'm not here to tell you that you have a moral obligation to read books that you don't enjoy. But when we're in an academic setting, or in professional literary critique, or even serious intellectual conversation, that doesn't cut it. Because you are meant to use your critical thinking and interpretations skills. You have to go deeper.

Arguing that classic books should not be studied or analyzed anymore because they have sexist content is counterproductive. Because, although the classic canon is reflective of real world marginalizations and I agree it should be updated to include voices that have been historically pushed aside... The fact stands that those that are considered classics have a great deal of influence in posterior works and the development in a whole culture's literature. When you argue for taking an influential work of literature out, you are arguing for all of us who study literature history, or simply want to be educated in it, to lose an important piece of the puzzle. I find hundreds of books I studied to be severely flawed, sometimes even disgusting, but they gave me tools to interpret many posterior works better. They gave me a clear view of society, even if that view is bitter.

To illustrate my point. Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet, one of the most influential poets of Hispanic Post-Modernism and Nobel prize winner, was, by his own admission, a rapist. A few years ago, some of my university classmates organized a, let's say, campaign to pressure the deanery into taking his work entirely out of the syllabus. They argued, since this was a progressive institution, it was shameful to force students to read his works.

The thing is, I don't want to be shielded from the truth to the point where my higher education is incomplete. Where I cannot understand fully how a literary movement developed because my teachers have taken out authors that were key in its evolution. I want him to be reviled and the understanding of his work to be coloured by his extreme misogyny and selfishness. I want his accolades to be taken away and for him to be remembered as a disgusting rapist. While also being able to have a full picture when I inevitably encounter works influenced by his. I want to be able to know, and create my own opinion, instead of having a censor choose which works are apt to be read. If I am to practise feminist literary critique, I need to know. I need to have a full education, comparable to those of my peers, to those who come from a different university or school of criticism.

This is how critical thinking develops. You need the full picture. The good and the bad. Feminism cannot exist without critical thinking. It cannot exist without analyzing reality for what it is, and confronting it. Feminist literary critique is a difficult endeavour, oftentimes thankless and exhausting. It is looking again and again into the hatred and contempt men hold for women and have for centuries. It is engaging with it, confronting it. But it is worth it, and I believe that people who just throw the whole book away without reading it first because it's problematic are actively working against feminist literary criticism and erudition itself.

#literature #feminist literary criticism #the funny thing about all of this is that my university's literature department is full of feminist critics #and the people who spearheaded this campaign were unaware #because we are becoming so simple as a society that we only care about surface level easy to reach protests #instead of truly developing awareness and conscience #so this angry mob was actually attacking feminist teachers #which was just so fucking exhausting

[delta-queerdrant]

pedagogy of the repressed (Learning Curve, s1 e16)

The kindest thing I can say about "Learning Curve" is that it wasn't meant to be a season finale. For better or worse, that honor was intended for "The 37s," with additional Season 2 episodes aired between. I find this episode so incoherent as a climax to the first season that I considered reviewing them in filming order, before rejecting the idea as deranged.

On the whole I really like Tuvok as a character. As the oldest officer on board, he brings experience and depth of memory to his interactions, and while his Vulcan persona is familiar and by-the-book, Tim Russ's performance makes it feel fully realized (with perhaps an edge of charm).

I guess making Tuvok a piece of shit authoritarian is part of the specificity of his character, even if flexing your power over your students isn't terribly logical. But by making his bad teaching methods representative of the Starfleet ethos, there's only one possible conclusion, and it's nothing the show wants to face: Starfleet sucks.

The episode begins with a brief Janeway holonovel scene. It is inane. Why would anyone want to LARP being a governess? The obnoxious children make their appearance, but soon the whole exercise is happily interrupted.

A cohort of underperforming former Maquis is assigned to "field training." Let's remember, these folks never consented to work on this ship; their only obligation is to Chakotay as their former captain. After they walk out of training (a labor action if I ever saw one), Tuvok's next move is the enforcement of the Starfleet dress code. I was MAD when Gerron has to remove his Bajoran earring - so much is made of Ro Laren's earring in TNG, but here it's a passing moment of forced cultural assimilation that goes unchecked.

The episode wholly accepts that the view that these Maquis crew are undisciplined, lazy, and just can't cope with the rigors of Starfleet service. That their lives are anarchic-in-a-bad-way is underscored by Chakotay throwing a punch to put Dalby in his place - that's "the Maquis way," apparently! To which I say, really? Listen, I don't know the first thing about guerrilla fighters, I'm sure things get colorful between weapons drills and political philosophy debates, but wouldn't a large, sustained insurgency have methods for self-organization that don't involve frequent acts of violence?

Tuvok's training devolves into an episode of "The Biggest Loser," characterized by tough love and long-distance jogging. When his approach fails, an apt metaphor from Neelix makes him realize that he needs to build a relationship with his students, but it's too late. Only a crisis in the last act, in which Tuvok bend the rules, causes the Maquis to realize that they're willing to change as well(??)

It's just the stupidest ending - Tuvok and his students never demonstrate an ability to work well together, and Starfleet methods are never vindicated. In fact, nothing has changed by the end of this episode, as Tuvok has already showcased an ability to break rules in "Prime Factors." The episode's failure, in my mind, speaks to the failure of the show as a whole to tackle the Maquis/Starfleet conflict. After all, to deliver on its own premise would mean to complicate its belief in Starfleet heroism, and this show is too damn conservative to attempt it.

The only saving grace of this one is the cheese subplot, which is actually a hoot. There is no scientific mystery too ridiculous for this show, and I think that's wonderful.

I laughed out loud: "To discuss the patient's condition in front of the patient would be a serious breach of professional etiquette. It's been suggested that I cultivate a greater sensitivity to my patient's needs. Don't worry, my little friend."

Like a fermentation gone wrong, this one stunk. 1.5/5 infected alien cheeses.

#star trek #star trek voyager #tuvok #get the cheese to sickbay

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐎’𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐋𝐞𝐞 | hp next gen character profile

Warnings: Mentions of death and abusive childhoods (in reference to Declan’s parents)

✧ IDENTITY ✧

Full Name: Declan Ryan O’Donnell-Lee 

Nicknames: Dec

Name Meanings: Declan → Irish, “man of prayer” or “full of goodness” ; Ryan → Irish, “little king” ; O’Donnell → Irish, “descendant of Domhnall” ; Lee → English, “meadow” or “pasture.”

Date of Birth: September 1, 2001 

Gender: Male ; he/him

Sexuality: Heterosexual 

Blood Status: Half-blood

Nationality: Irish, English

Residence: Dublin, Ireland (birth to 5) ; The O’Donnell-Lee Creature Reserve and Rehabilitation Center, County Donegal, Ireland (5 to 18)

✧ APPEARANCE ✧

Faceclaim: Kit Connor 

Height: 5’11”

Build: Athletic and slightly stocky build 

Hair: Red or auburn hair that is short and either neat or windswept 

Eye Color: Hazel 

Scarring:

Childhood & Hogwarts: Declan has a small scar on his right knee as the result of playing quidditch with his family.

Adulthood: He has a small scar on the left side of his rib cage from a quidditch accident that he ignored. 

Modifications: (glasses, piercings, tattoos, etc.) Occasionally, Declan will wear reading glasses. 

Other Distinguishing Marks: Declan has freckles across his nose and cheeks. 

Clothing Style: Rugby shirts ; jeans ; t-shirts ; Henley shirts ; sweaters ; plaid shirts ; joggers ; sweatshirts ; sneakers ; fair isle sweaters

Accessories: Declan wears a wristwatch. 

What’s in His Pockets: His wand ; loose change 

What’s in His School Bag: Textbooks ; parchment, quills, ink, pens, pencils ; quidditch gloves ; deodorant ; an old snitch ; a water bottle 

✧ SPEECH & LANGUAGE ✧

Voiceclaim: Kit Connor 

Accent: Irish

Dialect: Ulster 

Languages Spoken: English, Irish Gaelic 

Languages Understood: English, Irish Gaelic 

Language Disorder: Declan has dyslexia. It’s not debilitating, but he has to work twice as hard for average grades than the majority of his peers.

✧ PERSONALITY ✧

MBTI Type: ISTP — the virtuoso

→ Tolerant and flexible, quiet observers until a problem appears, then act quickly to find workable solutions. Analyze what makes things work and readily get through large amounts of data to isolate the core of practical problems. Interested in cause and effect, organize facts using logical principles, value efficiency.

Enneagram Type: 3w4 — the professional 

→ The 3w4 Type is a Three that shares many qualities of the Type Four. This type tends to be more introverted, serious and focused on work rather than social engagements and relationships. Three wing Fours are consistently working toward personal growth and professional success.

Positive Traits: Intelligent, athletic, kind, loyal, friendly, reliable, organized, observant, energetic, thoughtful, hardworking

Neutral Traits: Reserved, tolerant, ambitious, stubborn, protective, private, practical, rational, quiet

Negative Traits: Impulsive, can be inflexible, can get bored easily, a bit oblivious, shy, “fight me”

Common Stressors: Exams, especially OWLs and NEWTs ; big quidditch games ; tryouts ; being referred to by his surname 

Comforting Things: Flying ; quidditch ; sports ; sweets ; dogs ; being around his parents 

Interests & Hobbies: Flying ; quidditch ; rugby ; soccer/football ; biking ; hurling ; model plane and car kits

Description: Declan’s family often says that he is very similar in personality to his Uncle Conor. The comparison is rather apt, as the two do have a lot in common. Declan has a reserved and practical nature, just like his uncle. He is also more intelligent than he seems to be, also like his uncle. He is very hardworking and tries his best in almost everything. Declan is a very talented athlete and has an interest in multiple different sports, both wizarding and muggle. However, his biggest passion lies with quidditch and specifically, he loves playing seeker the most. In addition, Declan inherited a stubbornness from both of his parents, as well as their hearts of gold. Although, Declan’s heart of gold is buried under his reserved nature and doesn’t let it show very often.

✧ MAGIC ✧

Wand: Declan’s wand is made of ash wood with a unicorn tail hair core and is 11 inches with a slightly yielding flexibility. 

→ Ash wands cleaved to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it would lose power and skill. This tendency was extreme if the core was of unicorn hair. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands were not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insisted of trying wands on this prestigious wood, would be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner might be stubborn, and would certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.

Other Magical Abilities: None 

Patronus: Red squirrel 

Patronus Memory: The first time he caught a snitch. He was six and he was playing a playful quidditch game with his family and some family friends. 

Boggart: His silhouette blending into the silhouettes of his family

Riddikulus: A dog leaps up and start licking the faces of the silhouettes 

Amortentia:

Declan smells like sandalwood, pine, sea salt, broom polish, and leather. 

Declan smells freshly mown grass, marinara sauce, almond, and vanilla.

Mirror of Erised: Declan sees himself with evidence of big quidditch wins, with his family visible but not on top of him.

✧ HOGWARTS ✧

House: Slytherin 

OWL Classes:

Astronomy — Poor 

Charms — Outstanding 

Defense Against the Dark Arts — Outstanding 

Flying — Outstanding 

Herbology — Exceeds Expectations 

History of Magic — Poor

Potions — Acceptable 

Transfiguration — Exceeds Expectations 

OWL Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures — Exceeds Expectations

Study of Ancient Runes — Acceptable 

NEWT Classes:

Care of Magical Creatures — Exceeds Expectations

Charms — Outstanding

Defense Against the Dark Arts — Outstanding

Herbology — Acceptable

Transfiguration — Exceeds Expectations 

Extracurriculars: Seeker on his house quidditch team ; captain of his house quidditch team in his sixth year ; dueling club 

✧ EMPLOYMENT ✧

Affiliations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ; the Ballycastle Bats ; the O’Donnell-Lee Creature Reserve and Rehabilitation Center

Professions:

Age 18 to 42 - Seeker for the Ballycastle Bats

Age 42 to death - Philanthropist 

✧ FAMILY ✧

Father: Barnaby Abernathy O’Donnell-Lee

Born on December 23, 1972, Barnaby was the only child of Cygnus and Rosamund Lee in Kent, England. As he was their only child, they placed high expectations on their son. Barnaby never reached or wanted to reach their expectations, which made his childhood tough and not particularly happy. There was a lot of cold indifference and disappointment within the Lee household. 

In 1984, Barnaby began Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin. He struggled with classes and had a bit of difficulty on the social side as well. He made two friends, who weren’t very good friends, and found that he was often threatening to fight other students. However, that all changed in his third year when he befriended Ryan, Cara, Sara, and Conor O’Donnell. Barnaby began to realize that he didn’t need to have a tough outer shell and could let his soft heart show, saving his toughness for moments that really mattered. 

After Hogwarts, Barnaby began working towards a career in magiozoology. He quickly rose through the ranks, as his knowledge and demeanor when with creatures helped pave a path. He also had the constant support of his girlfriend, and later wife, Sara, who helped him study. By the age of thirty, Barnaby had already started making a name for himself in the world of magiozoology and in 2005, he opened up a creature reserve and rehabilitation center on land that had once belonged to his wife’s family. He loved his career, even though there was a year-long disruption for the second wizarding war.

On June 30, 1997, Barnaby married Sara O’Donnell in a small and private ceremony. Two years later, their eldest daughter, Theodora Ailis, was born on June 6, 1999. Two years after Dora, their eldest son, Declan Ryan, was born on September 1, 2001. Two years after Declan, their youngest daughter, Violet Cara, was born on May 3, 2003. Three years after Violet, their youngest son and child, Brendan Conor, was born on May 17, 2006. 

Declan has a good relationship with his father. He knows that he can always count on Barnaby and Barnaby strives to be a better father than Cygnus ever was, something that he succeeds in. However, Declan and Barnaby struggle to connect. They’re actually quite similar, but they don’t have a ton of interests in common and it’s just hard for Declan and Barnaby to find something to bond over.

Mother: Sara Ailis O’Donnell-Lee

Born on August 18, 1973 at 7:41 pm, Sara was the fourth child of Seán and Ailis O’Donnell. She had one elder brother, Cian, and quadruplet siblings, Ryan, Cara, and Conor. Sara had a rather complicated and sad childhood, losing her parents and grandparents before the age of seven. Those losses meant that Sara and her siblings were then raised by her maternal uncle, a cold and manipulative man. He mostly ignored Sara, Ryan, Cara, and Conor as he mostly manipulated Cian, who felt isolated from his siblings and was drowning in grief. Of course, Cian’s disappearance when Sara was eight complicated matters as well. 

In 1984, Sara began Hogwarts alongside Ryan, Cara, and Conor. She was sorted into Hufflepuff and spent much of her years at Hogwarts entangled in the mystery of the Cursed Vaults. She also became a prefect, made a large group of friends, and began dating her future husband, Barnaby. By the end of her sixth year, the Cursed Vaults mystery was more or less solved and Sara no longer needed to stress over them.

After Hogwarts, Sara began training to be a healer in Leighis Hospital for Magical Maladies and Illnesses. She worked at Leighis for four years, before transferring to St. Mungo’s where she worked for a little less than two years as the second wizarding war drove Sara into hiding and the Order of Phoenix. After the war, she began working at Leighis again and helped her husband begin the process of creating a creature reserve and rehab center on land that had belonged to her maternal family for centuries. 

On June 30, 1997, Sara married Barnaby Lee in a small and private ceremony. Two years later, on June 6, 1999, her eldest daughter, Theodora Ailis, was born. Two years after Dora, on September 1, 2001, her eldest son, Declan Ryan, was born. Two years after Declan was born, her youngest daughter, Violet Cara, was born on May 3, 2003. Three years after Violet, her youngest son and child, Brendan Conor, was born on May 17, 2006. 

Declan has a good relationship with his mother. He knows that he can always count on her for anything, and she never truly pushes him to share something that he’s not comfortable sharing. Declan knows he has a very amazing mother (and father). 

Faceclaim: Elizabeth Henstridge 

Sister: Theodora Ailis “Dora” O’Donnell-Lee

Dora was born on June 6, 1999, making her two years older than Declan. Upon starting Hogwarts, Dora was sorted into Hufflepuff and later went on to become a prefect and headgirl. She never played quidditch. After Hogwarts, Dora becomes a magiozoologist. 

Declan gets along pretty well with his older sister. They fight and argue, but they always come together when it matters. Dora isn’t always impressed by her younger brother, but she loves him and Declan knows that he can count on her to help him out.

Faceclaim: Mina Sundwall

Sister: Violet Cara O’Donnell-Lee

Violet was born on May 3, 2003, making her two years younger than Declan. Upon starting Hogwarts, Violet was sorted into Ravenclaw and she becomes a prefect during her time at Hogwarts. She also plays chaser on her house’s quidditch team for two years. After Hogwarts, Violet becomes a magical veterinarian. 

Declan gets along alright with his younger sister. They tend to argue a lot, but they always come together when it matters. There’s also a bit of a quidditch rivalry between the two as Violet joins her house’s team in Declan’s seventh year. Despite the tensions between the two siblings, Declan knows that he can count on Violet. 

Faceclaim: Sophie Grace

Brother: Brendan Conor O’Donnell-Lee

Brendan was born on May 17, 2006, making him five years younger than Declan. Upon starting Hogwarts, Brendan was sorted into Hufflepuff. He does not play quidditch and he isn’t a prefect, either. After Hogwarts, Brendan becomes a magiozoologist, like his father and oldest sister.

The age gap between Declan and Brendan is big enough that they usually get along fairly well… as long as they aren’t sharing a bedroom. They will fight and argue, but that is mainly when they have to share a bedroom. Declan tries to be a good role model for his little brother, but he often thinks that he falls short of being a good role model for Brendan. 

Faceclaim: Christopher Convery 

Aunts: 

Penelope Dawn “Penny” Haywood-O’Donnell → Penny is married to Declan’s Uncle Ryan and is one of his mother’s close friends from Hogwarts.

Cara Rose O’Donnell → Aunt Cara is his mother’s sister, older by twenty-one minutes. • FC: Jane Levy

Rowan Indu Khanna → Rowan is married to Declan’s Aunt Cara and is one of his mother’s close friends from Hogwarts. She is also Declan’s godmother.

Ruth Abigail Lyman-O’Donnell → Ruth is married to Declan’s Uncle Conor.

Uncles: 

Cian Jacob O’Donnell [deceased, 1965-2002] → Uncle Cian is his mother’s brother, older by eight years. Declan never met his Uncle Cian as his uncle passed away when Declan was one and his mother had a complicated relationship with her eldest brother. • FC: Nick Robinson

Ryan Michael O’Donnell → Uncle Ryan is his mother’s brother, older by thirty-six minutes. • FC: Killian Scott

Conor Lorcan O’Donnell → Uncle Conor is his mother’s brother, younger by twenty-one minutes. He is also Declan’s godfather and his family often says that Declan is a lot like Conor. • FC: Grant Gustin

Cousins:

Michael George O’Donnell → b. January 5, 2003 • Hufflepuff • Ryan & Penny’s son • FC: Maxwell Jenkins

Winifred Ailis O’Donnell → b. November 30, 2005 • Gryffindor • Ryan & Penny’s daughter • FC: Taegen Burns

Keira Willow Khanna-O’Donnell → b. February 22, 2003 • Gryffindor • Cara & Rowan’s daughter • FC: Momona Tamada

Seth Lorcan O’Donnell → b. March 7, 2007 • Ravenclaw • Conor & Ruth’s son • FC: Jett Klyne

Naomi Ailis O’Donnell → b. December 28, 2009 • Ravenclaw • Conor & Ruth’s daughter • FC: Alisha Weir

Ciaran Judah O’Donnell → b. December 28, 2009 • Ravenclaw • Conor & Ruth’s son • FC: Julian Hilliard

Pets: 

Childhood: A cat named O’Malley ; a cat named Casey ; a yellow Labrador retriever named Rosie ; a brown border collie named Murphy ; an owl named Wilbur ; numerous creatures that live on the O’Donnell-Lee Creature Reserve and Rehabilitation Center 

Adulthood: A dog named Benny 

✧ ROMANCE & CHILDREN ✧

Love Interest: Callista Layne “Callie” Black (@mjs-oc-corner)

→ Declan first met Callie Black when they were paired together for a group project in one of their shared classes. A slow-burn-ish friendship began at that moment and things slowly began to tend towards romance, although there was a bit of an “everyone can see it but them” situation going on. By their seventh year, both Declan and Callie finally managed to admit their feelings for one another, albeit with a little bit of prodding and after the quidditch scouting season had ended. They remained together after graduating Hogwarts, with some bumps along the way. They married at the age of 27, in late 2028.

Son: James Michael “Jem” O’Donnell-Lee

Ravenclaw | Beater | Demisexual | b. November 24, 2030

Declan has a good relationship with his son, although there are moments where he struggles to connect with Jem, who takes after Declan’s father and siblings. He’s very proud of his son, though, and does what he can to encourage Jem to follow his dreams and ambitions. Declan loves his son very much.

Faceclaim: Paxton Booth

Daughter: Harper Aurora O’Donnell-Lee

Hufflepuff | b. July 19, 2032

Declan has a good relationship with his daughter. He’s very proud of her and does what he can to encourage Harper’s dreams and ambitions. Declan loves his daughter very much. 

Faceclaim: Violet McGraw

✧ OTHER RELATIONSHIPS ✧

Best Friends: TBD

Close Friends: TBD

Friends:

Zola Albatross (@usernoneexistent)

Siv Arcano-Thorne (@kathrynalicemc)

Mars Dolohov (@nicos-oc-hell)

Cooper Everett (@amerrymystery)

Finn ap Helyg (@captainhowlreportingforduty)

Hermes Janda-Steele (@slytherindisaster)

Roe Malinda ; Baby Quinn (@gaygryffindorgal)

Kleio Marcovitz (@ellie-e-marcovitz)

Acquaintances: TBD

It’s Complicated: TBD

Hogwarts Dormmates: There are four open beds in Declan’s dorm! Just send an ask if you have a boy who could be in his dorm. 

Rivals: TBD

Enemies: TBD

✧ HISTORY & BACKGROUND ✧

Place of Birth: Leighis Hospital for Magical Illnesses and Maladies, Dublin, Ireland 

Hometown: County Donegal, Ireland 

Childhood: 

Born on September 1, 2001, Declan Ryan O’Donnell-Lee was the second of Sara and Barnaby O’Donnell-Lee’s four children. He joined his older sister, Theodora Ails “Dora,” then two. Over the next eight years, Declan gained two younger siblings, Violet in 2003 and Brendan in 2006, and six cousins, Michael (b. 2003), Winifred (b. 2006), Keira (b. 2003), Seth (b. 2009), Naomi (b. 2009), and Ciaran (b. 2009). 

Declan had a good childhood. His family was always around and they were all very, very supportive. He never really wanted for anything, and knew that he could always count on his family. He spent most of his childhood growing up on the creature reserve and rehab center, gaining a healthy appreciation for creatures and animals. The only deaths that he truly experienced were those of the creatures that lived on the reserve or came to the rehab center. In addition, Declan’s passion for quidditch was born when his uncle Conor gifted him a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages for his fourth birthday. 

At the age of five, after noticing that Declan was struggling with reading and similar tasks, his mother decided that it was prudent to have him tested for dyslexia. His father likely had the same learning disability and as his mother was raised partially by muggles, she was aware of services for speech and language problems that wizards had no knowledge of. After undergoing testing, Declan was diagnosed with dyslexia. Due to Sara’s proactive actions, his family were able to provide him with supports that meant his dyslexia was debilitating and didn’t interfere with his coursework at Hogwarts nearly as much as it could have, allowing him to scrape by with average grades.

Hogwarts Years:

Upon starting Hogwarts, Declan was sorted into Slytherin. In his first year, he made the quidditch team as a reserve seeker and became the starting seeker in his second year. In his sixth year, he was awarded the honor of being Slytherin’s team captain. In addition, Declan also made friends, although very few would become truly close friends. 

During his time at Hogwarts, Declan began to struggle with the fact that the majority of people only seemed to be interested in Declan because of his familial connections. His father was a world-renown magiozoologist, an owner of a one-of-a-kind creature reserve and rehab center. Meanwhile, his mother was one of the famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) Hogwarts cursebreakers. He really struggled with the fact that many of his early friends were only interested in what Declan could give them and not who Declan himself was. This resulted in Declan being quite wary about friendships and he started to hate being referred to by his surname only. 

In his sixth and seventh years, Declan was scouted by multiple quidditch teams from the British-Irish league. He was offered a spot on the Ballycastle Bats, the Appleby Arrows, and the Falmouth Falcons. Ultimately, he accepted the offer from the Bats, as he would still be able to stay near his family. 

Adulthood:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Declan began playing quidditch for the Ballycastle Bats. He spent his entire 24 year career with the Bats. Over the years, he got a few offers to join other teams, but he ultimately turned them down, happy with where he was with the Bats. At the age of 42, Declan suffered an injury to his shoulder which led to his retirement. 

After retiring, Declan slowly began looking into philanthropic endeavors and finding causes that he was passionate about. As he grew older, he donated time and money to the many causes that he believed were important or close to his heart, including providing quality quidditch supplies to children and students whose families couldn’t afford it. He even gave money to muggle charities. 

Declan also married Callie Black at the age of 27 in late 2028. They had two children together, James Michael and Harper Aurora. James was born on November 24, 2030, while Harper was born on July 19, 2032. 

Old Age: 

Declan spent most of his old age with his philanthropic endeavors and his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren. 

Death: 

At the age of 124, in the year 2126, Declan passed away peacefully in his sleep. He lived a very long and fulfilled life and left behind two children, four great-grandchildren, and seven great-great-grandchildren. 

✧ MISCELLANEOUS ✧ 

Favorite Color: Green

Favorite Food: Penne pasta with a side of cheesy garlic bread 

Favorite Drink: Water

Favorite Weather: Snowing, but the sun is still shining 

Favorite Season: Winter

Favorite Book: Quidditch Through the Ages

Favorite Music: R.E.M., The Who, Mumford & Sons, Bastille

Dislikes: Bullies ; crowds ; oranges ; seafood ; blood supremacy ; being compared to his family ; solely being referred to by his surname or “O’Donnell 2” 

Trivia:

Appearance wise, Declan is a blend of his family. He inherited his aunt’s and great-great-grandmother’s red hair, his father’s build, his late grandmother’s eye color, and his mother’s nose. 

Declan’s middle name is after his uncle, Ryan. He is Declan’s mother’s slightly older brother.

Declan often feels that his surname and position as the eldest male cousin is the only thing that matters about him and that no one really cares about who he is beyond that. However, he also feels like he doesn’t have the right to feel frustrated by that because he had a good childhood and two parents who love him a lot. He knows that other people have it worse than he does. In addition, Declan often feels like he’s the odd man out. He’s the youngest person in his year. He’s the only O’Donnell-Lee sibling with red hair and the only one who doesn’t choose to do something with creatures. He’s the only O’Donnell cousin to be a Slytherin. 

Declan has always been secure in his sexuality. Watching his three siblings and four of his cousins struggle with discovering their sexualities are one reason why Declan feels like his issues aren’t real problems and why he keeps them to himself.

When he was a child, Declan almost always had scrapes and scabs on his knees, elbows, hands, and face. He was a bit of a rough and tumble child, who tried to play every sport that interested him.

Declan adores the family dogs. They’re his favorites out of all of the animals and creatures in his family’s life. Murphy the border collie often sleeps in Declan’s bedroom with him.

Important Links:

Declan’s tag 

More information about Declan’s siblings and cousins

More information about Declan’s children, Jem and Harper

#declan o’donnell lee #hpma #magic awakened #hphm next gen #hphm fankids #my character profile #hpma profile #hpma character profile #my aesthetic #hp next gen character profile

[shieldfoss]

Pop!OS? Apt is kind of infamous for getting itself tied in knots. Maybe try "apt update && apt dist-upgrade", reading very carefully before letting it continue, to make sure it's not going to rip out an important part of the system. Also if you haven't updated in a long time you might want to do that from a TTY console (Ctrl+alt+F3) and reboot immediately after.

Yeah it's Pop!_OS by System76, an operating system for STEM and creative professionals who use their computer as a tool to discover and create. Unleash your potential on secure, reliable open source software. Based on your exceptional curiosity, we sense you have a lot of it.

[DOWNLOAD][SUPPORT POP]

Streamline your workflow

Pop!_OS is designed for fast navigation, easy workspace organization, and fluid, convenient workflow. Your operating system should encourage discovery, not obstruct it.

Workflow Customization

While you’ve got your wheels turning, take the scenic route with a dock and touchpad gestures, or race along a minimalist track from behind the wheel of a revving keyboard. With a variety of both mouse-driven and keyboard-driven customizations, you’re empowered to navigate your workflow the way you’ve always wanted.

[VIDEO]

Auto-Tiling With Pop Shell

Pop!_OS uses auto-tiling for the same reason that people hire assistants: Organizing your work is incredibly time-consuming. Sure, you could still move, resize, and arrange windows yourself, but why spend the time when your OS does it for you? Auto-tiling helps you be both organized and efficient, and is especially convenient on large displays.

[VIDEO]

[stickytyphoonbouquet]

Amass — Mapping Attack Surface Automatically

Amass — Mapping Attack Surface Automatically

CyberSecurity Updates

,

Kali Linux

/ By

CyberArk

December 14, 2021

In our this guide we are going to cover an awesome information gathering tool called Amass originally created by Jeff Foley, later it adopted by OWASP and Jeff is Amass project leader now.

Amass is a command line open-source tool that helps information security professionals to perform network mapping of attack surfaces and perform external asset discovery using open source information gathering and active reconnaissance techniques.

In order to do this, Amass heavily focuses on DNS, HTTP and SSL/TLS data discovering and collecting. Amass uses its own internal mechanism and it also integrates perfectly with some external services (SecurityTrails, AlienVault, Shodan etc) to increase the efficiency and power of it’s results.

In our detailed guide we are going to learn how to install & use Amass on Kali Linux. So without wasting any more time lets get started.

How to Install Amass on Kali Linux

If we are using an updated version of Kali Linux large, then we don’t need to install Amass on our system, it comes pre-installed. But if Amass doesn’t present on our Kali Linux system then we can easily install it by simply using following command:

sudo apt install amass-common

How to use Amass on Kali Linux

Before starting using any tool we should check it’s help options. We are also doing the same for Amass also. To check it’s help we run following command on our terminal window:

amass -h

In the following screenshot we can see the output of our applied command:

In the above help menu we can see that Amass have some options. Let’s have a look on to them:

intel: Collect intelligence on the target in order to determine our starting point.

evum: Perform enumeration & mapping of our target to determine possible attacks.

viz: Show the results on a visual formats with analysis and future research.

track: Compare results across enumerations to see changes in their attack surface.

db: Manage the graph databases storing the enumeration results.

dns: Resolve DNS names at high performance.

Getting Subdomains using Amass Enum

Enough talking about Amass. Let’s use it. The most basic use of it is “subdomain enumeration”. We can do it by applying following command:

amass enum -d oswap.org

Here we have used -d flag to specify our target domain. In the following screenshot we can see the output of our applied command:

That is the basic subdomain discovery. We can get better results using following command:

amass enum -d example.com -active -cidr 1.2.3.4/24,4.3.2.1/24 -asn 12345

Getting Information using Intel

We can do a lot of tings with Amass. For an example we are looking for an organization using “google” in their name. We can use following command to do this:

amass intel -org "google"

After applying the above command we need to give couple of minutes to find it. We can see it on the following screenshot:

We can also reverse whois data. By this way we can grab the details from the specified domain’s whois records, and then tries to find other domains with the similar whois records. That way we can know about a website owner have other websites. We can use following command to do this:

amass intel -d oswap.org -whois

The output shows in the following screenshot:

These all domains have similar whois information as Google.com, so there is high chance that Google owns them.

SSL Certificate Grabbing

If we know IP addresses and feed it to Amass using -active flag, Amass will pull the SSL certificate from every IP address within the IP range and then spits back the domain that the SSL cert is associated with. For an example we use the following command:

amass intel -active -cidr 173.0.84.0/24

In the following screenshot we can see that it is running on a well known Paypal-owned CIDR range.

Tracking using Amass

Our every scan done with amass is automatically stored on our system that we ran it on. Then, if we run the same scan again, amass will track any changes that have taken place since your last scan. The most perfect way to use this feature is to discover which new subdomains have appeared since our last scan. For example, We had scanned oswap.org on the morning, so I ran the following command to track that.

amass track -d oswap.org

In the following screenshot we can see there are no changes. If we got some new subdomains that means that might be vulnerable.

Visualization on Amass

Frankly speaking we are not fan of this. During the information gathering we love to see the results on a text based format, but visualization on Amass looks really cool. We need to use viz for that, as we did in the following screenshot:

This viz subcommand on Amass allow us to visualize all the gathered information of target (stored in the Amass graph database) for a target in a number of ways. Results can also be imported into Maltego for more OSINT analysis.

Amass Database

Amass Database (db) is a Amass subcommand that is useful to view the recon data for every scan that we had ever done. To list all of the details of all of our previous scans, we need to simply run command like amass db show, If we want to see details of a specific domain, then we just need to add the -d flag like following,

amass db -show -d oswap.org

If we prefer a nice clean, plain output, we can output the discovered domains or subdomains using the -names flag instead of -show. The outputs are shown in the following screenshot:

In the above screenshot we just have the subdomains, because we did not gather more information on oswap.org, but if we have it will show us.

Amass Scripting Engine

Like Nmap scripting engine Amass also have scripting engine which can be used to add our own data sources on Amass. Like we have an updated API which Amass doesn’t integrated yet, so we don’t need to wait for Amass adds it. We can add it on Amass and use it. For more details we can check this manual.

For more detailed guide we can suggest some awesome sources to learn more about Amass:

Official Amass Tutorial

Amass Extensive Tutorial

Amass is really a great tool for information gathering and recon works. In this article we saw that how we can use Amass on our Kali Linux system.

#amass #kali linux #scripting #engine

[grandhotelabyss]

—Gustave Flaubert, Letter to His Mother, February 1850

I don’t know why I had this in an open tab, but I love it. Flaubert’s defense of vocation is an apt rejoinder to that famous utopian vision of communism in Marx (“to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner”) that I’ve personally never found very utopian. Rear cattle? I don’t think I will. Marx is superficially close to Emerson’s lines on reification in “The American Scholar”—

Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney a statute-book; the mechanic a machine; the sailor a rope of the ship.

—but I think Emerson’s point was not that we should or could reverse the modern drift toward specialization and all become everything again, if indeed we ever were once everything and this is not just a typical 19th-century noble savage romance. I think he meant rather that we should each bring our total humanity into our specialized “ministry” rather than being governed by inhuman codes and systems, that perennial danger of professionalization. We all know now what that danger looks like from our two-and-a-half-year brush with the psychotic-robotic public health sector. As with the best of Romanticism, Emerson wants to ennoble and spiritualize the opportunities afforded by the modern, precisely to avoid its obvious pitfalls. 

Marx, meanwhile, has that misplaced guilt of the intellectuals who think everyone envies them. But in the part-time jobs I had in high school and college I worked alongside working-class people, not to mention that I come from working-class people, and, trust me, they don’t envy intellectuals any more than intellectuals envy them. The modern division of labor is not some alien imposition on the organic and absolute plurality of the individual; people are actually different from one another. Some people love to dirty their hands; I prefer to dirty my mind. A pro-labor politics whether of left or right would, it seems to me, seek to secure a reward for workers commensurate with the social value of their work, not to dissolve the division of labor.

In literary terms, Flaubert is an imperfect example of the Emersonian dream. I’ve always thought his famously monkish devotion to le mot juste created an immobilized prose, modular blocks of dead perfection, not only in Flaubert himself but also in his followers, in Conrad, for example, or Nabokov, and even too often in Joyce—a case James Wood makes well in his oft-neglected essay “Half Against Flaubert.” Flaubert, then, may exemplify reification, just as Lukács charged. But it’s not because he didn’t have a day job; it’s because he wasn’t, as Emerson would say, Man Writing in his ministry. Martyring himself to language, he became written by it, heralding the postmodern acquiescence to our being lived by systems. With that attitude, he might as well have gotten what my own relatives, scolding me, used to call “a real job, a J-O-B”—and no, they weren’t, though they should have been, alluding to the Bible’s exemplary sufferer. My own approach to prose is more intuitive and more emotional, not to mention faster. As I’ve said before, I am with Woolf here: find the right rhythm and you can’t write the wrong word. But finding the right rhythm, too, can take all day, or even a lifetime.

#gustave flaubert #karl marx #ralph waldo emerson #literature #literary criticism #labor

[packersandmovers2023]

What You Can Expect From Moving Companies While Relocating

Moving companies are dime in a dozen in a city and hence making a hassle free move is a big decision in life. In this scenario, selecting a right mover can make all the big difference. Frank enough, moving services not only make the difference between the stressful and comfortable move but also make the transition smooth. That's why it is necessary to select those movers, which vow to offer safe and convenient relocation with the slightest stress on your part.

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The moving companies take pride in having a good deal of experienced, trained and smart personals who you can trust upon, leaving your priced possession safe. The service professionals take pride in having expert Packers and Movers Gurgaon to Pune who can make the relocating jobs fast, secure and transparent, bringing you the essential moving supplies. Whatsoever be the size of belongings or valuables and howsoever delicate the item is, the movers make sure that the priced belongings reach right on time. In a bid to safeguard the delicate belongings, the movers take extra initiative and protection, ensuring that the belongings reach safe. The company takes help of padded wood crates, bubble wraps, moving boxes, durable cartoons, hanging rods and such others. To fasten the belongings and to lift the heavy materials safely during transit, the movers take the assistance of bungee cords and customized belts while loading and unloading from vehicle. Dallas movers also take assistance of relocation friendly trucks, which are not only spacious to accommodate the belongings but also ensures safe move.

Use Moving Companies At Your Needs Prudently

The thing, which we need to decide upon while using professional movers is to what extent we want to utilize them in our work. Some prefer to hand over the entire shifting hassle to the relocation company while others prefer to do half of the task by themselves, letting movers to simply load and drive the vehicle. With single-handed packing, a person not only feels confident but also feels secured from being mishandled. However if you work with a trusted moving company, this should not be a matter of great concern. So, people who want to save little money and wants to get into the control of packing, this would certainly be an apt way to go. While the other left over option is to allow the trusted movers to take care of all the moving requirements. This means having all the moving materials well organized followed by proper packing, loading and unloading to the ultimate destination.

[newmovers2023]

What You Can Expect From Moving Companies While Relocating

Moving companies are dime in a dozen in a city and hence making a hassle free move is a big decision in life. In this scenario, selecting a right mover can make all the big difference. Frank enough, moving services not only make the difference between the stressful and comfortable move but also make the transition smooth. That's why it is necessary to select those movers, which vow to offer safe and convenient relocation with the slightest stress on your part.

What is so different about Dallas movers in comparison to others is their special service offerings. They come up with superlative support more than just shifting your belongings to your new location. The service includes hoisting service, auto transport, bulk shredding, crating, special packing, and lots more. Not only they are tailored to meet customer's needs but also make moving process easy and safe. Apart from residential move, they also provide commercial services, handling the business move with sheer expertise and care.

The moving companies take pride in having a good deal of experienced, trained and smart personals who you can trust upon, leaving your priced possession safe. The service professionals take pride in having expert Packers and Movers Gurgaon to Pune who can make the relocating jobs fast, secure and transparent, bringing you the essential moving supplies. Whatsoever be the size of belongings or valuables and howsoever delicate the item is, the movers make sure that the priced belongings reach right on time. In a bid to safeguard the delicate belongings, the movers take extra initiative and protection, ensuring that the belongings reach safe. The company takes help of padded wood crates, bubble wraps, moving boxes, durable cartoons, hanging rods and such others. To fasten the belongings and to lift the heavy materials safely during transit, the movers take the assistance of bungee cords and customized belts while loading and unloading from vehicle. Dallas movers also take assistance of relocation friendly trucks, which are not only spacious to accommodate the belongings but also ensures safe move.

Use Moving Companies At Your Needs Prudently

The thing, which we need to decide upon while using professional movers is to what extent we want to utilize them in our work. Some prefer to hand over the entire shifting hassle to the relocation company while others prefer to do half of the task by themselves, letting movers to simply load and drive the vehicle. With single-handed packing, a person not only feels confident but also feels secured from being mishandled. However if you work with a trusted moving company, this should not be a matter of great concern. So, people who want to save little money and wants to get into the control of packing, this would certainly be an apt way to go. While the other left over option is to allow the trusted movers to take care of all the moving requirements. This means having all the moving materials well organized followed by proper packing, loading and unloading to the ultimate destination.