*pacific

2

There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea

Geologists are able to reconstruct the motion of plates in the ocean using what we call “magnetic anomalies”. Oceanic crust forms as molten rock that cools and solidifies when it touches ocean water. As it cools, it forms some minerals that respond to Earth’s magnetic field as natural magnets. These minerals record the magnetic direction at the time they formed – they become small magnets pointing to the current North and South poles.

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Dating Elliot Alderson Would Include

i found this rlly cute so if you want more for other characters of his, please don’t hesitate and tell me!

- late night movies, either his favourite, back to the future, or the matrix
- him staring at his lover beside him instead of watching the movie itself
- a lot of shy eye contact, which ends up in blushes and awkward chuckles
- deep conversations at 2am, half of it tracing his veins or running your thumb across his bottom lip
- “i love you’s” between small kisses in the kitchen
- smoking at night on the balcony, you standing in front of him, whilst he’s behind you resting his chin on your shoulder, pecking your shoulder occasionally
- getting high, meaning lots of giggles
- “yo man, you’re really cute”
- him waking up a bit earlier than you, him tracing a finger down your arm then back up, watching you sleep peacefully, knowing that he wants you to be the one

Monsters of Our Own [Yoongi]

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 10522
Description: It’s funny living in a world that’s about to end at any moment. You learn to appreciate every moment you can, even if there really isn’t many of them.
Author’s Note: So this was supposed to be a yoongi fic and it is still a yoongi fic I SWEAR ON MY LIFE but like somewehre along the way it became very hoseok centric and i apolOgise okay! also this got so much longer than it was supposed to wtf

2015 — Seoul, South Korea

You trail your index finger slowly along the shelf of the supermarket, frowning at the thick layer of dust that collects on your fingertip. The shelves of the supermarket are sparsely decorated, more shelves empty than there are full. Supplies are dwindling in the city. It’s been this way since the first attack. Since Daegu, Busan, Tongyeong, Gwangju, and Jeonju. Seoul was supposed to be safe. Seoul hadn’t been attacked yet. Flocks of people ran to Seoul, seeking shelter that they were given with sympathy and pity, but with more people consuming the food, water, and resources of the city, there wasn’t much left. Trade had all but stopped, with the ruins of cities left smoking in piles of rubble, and other countries left too terrified to agree to ship goods across the monstrous ocean home of the Kaijus.

You turn at the sharp voice of the cashier, telling a woman that all prices were fixed, and bargaining was not accepted. Your left hand stays in your pocket, fingering the bills that your mother had passed to you that morning. Prices of everything had skyrocketed once people knew that there was a limited supply of food and whatnot; you’d never seen Seoul in such a state, with gaunt-looking beggars filling the streets, and screaming children running from bakeries, burnt hunks of bread clutched in their hands. You supposed that was what the impending doom of the apocalypse tended to do to a place.

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