#Neanderthal The Conference

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[mias-back-from-the-dead]

I'm down human evolution conference youtube again which is often a mistake lmao i just end up losing time daydreaming about taking an incredibly far flung neanderthal ancestor out for all you can eat kbbq and bead shopping

[the-nettle-knight]

Drawing of a Neanderthal lady for my conference presentation bc there aren't any reconstructions that are quite right

[drjacquescoulardeau]

TARGOVISTE – NOVEMBER 21-22 & 27-28 – MCDSARE 2023 – ROMANIA

An article published in Psychology Research, David Publishing Company, 3 Germay Dr., Unit 4 #4651, Wilmington DE 19804, USA, https://www.davidpublisher.com/, “300,000 (at Least) Years for Homo Sapiens to Develop Writing: A Review of Silvia Ferrara’s The Greatest Invention, Tr. Todd Portnowitz.“ Then my presentation on Monday, November, 20, 2023 on DISJUNCTURE vs REVOLUTION, POSTGRESSION vs. PROGRESSION, in Romania within the 8th MCDSARE Conference (November 20-28, 2023). The central question of the emergence of language and the passage from oral language to writing will be fundamental. All Information at IFIASA MCDSARE 2023 conference, Boerescu Zaharia, Târgoviște, Dâmbovița, Romania https://www.ifiasa.com/mcdsare-event

First, a video presentation covering the newly discovered Hominin Homo Naledi in South Africa, on the IFIASA site, presents this Hominin who had reached the level of transcribing his oral language into symbolical geometric signs around 300,000 BCE. Compare with Neanderthals who did the same in Gibraltar around 100,000 BCE, and with Homo Sapiens who did it in his European and Indonesian caves around 45,000 BCE. Who is the bad pupil? Who is precocious?

Second, the phylogeny of language from the emergence of oral articulated language to the writing of all languages. Writing is the transfer from oral language to visual engravings or symbols. This will bring up the question of freedom and freedom of choice in archaeological times for Hominins. Did they choose to use their genetic means to develop articulated language, or did they just do it without even thinking about it? Same question about transcribing their oral language into some visual marks, engravings or painted symbols for writing?

The third part on the Versailles Treaty and how it still dictates the present and future of the world will be kept for publication, soon, I hope. It deals with the ferocious consequences of this treaty. Hitler and the second world war. The Holocaust and the creation of Israel, and the impossibility for this state to come to a balanced cooperation with and recognition of the Palestinians. The constant changing camps of Ukraine all along. From 1918 to the early 1920s hostile to the USSR. The vast cooperation with Hitler and the Holocaust under the occupation by Nazi forces. The submissive cooperation with Stalin and the other leaders of the Soviet Union up to 1989. Their independence and the impossibility to live as a bilingual country with two languages, two separate branches of the Orthodox religion, the deep divide between heavy industry and other activities, etc.

All Information at IFIASA MCDSARE 2023 conference, Boerescu Zaharia, Târgoviște, Dâmbovița, Romania https://www.ifiasa.com/mcdsare-event

Éditions La Dondaine, Medium.com, 2023

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Sharon Guynup | 21 January 2023

On the screen and on the street, strawberry blonds and those with auburn tresses attract attention, and always have.

That is, in part, because red hair is an exotic trait, occurring in just one or two out of every 100 people.

While the gene variants that endow flaming locks are rare, redheads are not destined to vanish from the population, despite recurring claims to that effect.

“Redheads are not going extinct,” says Katerina Zorina-Lichtenwalter, a postdoctoral fellow at the Institute for Behavioral Genetics at University of Colorado, Boulder.

To understand why this is so, it’s necessary first to understand why there are redheads in the first place.

As it turns out, it’s not only tabloids that are interested in flame-haired people. Scientists are too.

There’s more research on the variations in human hair color than you might expect, and the science makes it clear that crimson locks are not becoming increasingly rare, nor will they disappear any time soon. It’s a trait that dates to prehistory.

Analysis of 50,000-year-old DNA revealed that some Neanderthals were pale-complected redheads.

A famous 3,800-year-old Bronze Age mummy, known as the Beauty of Loulan, was unearthed from a desert cemetery in northwestern China with intact sepia-colored hair.

From the fifth century on, in what is now southeast Europe and Turkey, the mythological King Rhesus of the ancient Thracians was depicted on Greek pottery with carrot-colored hair and beard.

The gene variants involved are recessive, meaning two copies—one from the mother and one from the father—are required to produce a red-haired child.

"Only if both parents are redheads can they be almost certain their baby will have fiery hair," Zorina-Lichtenwalter says.

In her book Red: A History of the Redhead, author Jacky Colliss Harvey characterizes the odds of having a crimson-haired baby this way:

“In the great genetic card game, red hair is the two of clubs. It is trumped by every other card in the pack.”

The genetics of red

Ginger coloring in people—as well as horses, dogs, pigs, and other mammals—is conferred by just a handful of genetic mutations that both parents must carry.

The “redhead gene” was discovered in 1995 by a team including Ian Jackson, now a professor emeritus at Scotland’s University of Edinburgh.

This melanocortin 1 receptor gene, or MC1R, plays a key role in producing melanin, the tan pigment that protects skin from ultraviolet radiation (sunlight) and also colors eyes and skin.

One type, eumelanin, endows brown or black hair.

Pheomelanin creates red or blonde locks and confers light skin and freckles.

In people who have red hair, the skin cells (melanocytes) that produce pigment have a variant receptor on the cell surface.

When exposed to UV light, this variant fails to trigger a switch that changes melanin pigment from yellow/red to the protective brown/black.

“MC1R is one of several genes that work together to produce dark melanin, and without that switch, you’re going to have light skin,” says Zorina-Lichtenwalter—and easily burn when out in the sun.

In their 1995 research, Jackson and his colleagues compared 30 Irish and British redheads with the same number of brunettes.

More than 80 percent of rosy-haired and/or fair-skinned people carried variations in the MC1R gene; but just 20 percent of the brown-haired individuals did.

When they published the study, geneticist Richard Spritz told the media “this is the first time in humans that a specific gene for any common visible characteristic has been identified.”

Genetic advantage—and peril

Pale coloration bestowed a key advantage to cultures migrating from sunnier regions into northern Europe with its gray skies and short winter days.

“There was evolutionary pressure to lose skin pigmentation,” Zorina-Lichtenwalter explains, because lighter skin absorbs more UV, which produces more vitamin D from the limited amount of sunlight in northern regions.

Vitamin D helps the body absorb and retain calcium, build stronger bones, and protect against inflammation.

These health benefits increased the likelihood that women would survive pregnancy and birth, successfully passing on genes for light skin and red or blonde hair to their offspring.

The trait flourished in the United Kingdom and Ireland, where there are, by far, more fair-skinned redheads than anywhere else on Earth.

Some unofficial estimates peg the number at around 10 percent.

Much of the research into redhead genetics stems from their elevated skin cancer risk.

The MC1R gene mutations linked to crimson hair, light skin, and freckles also allows more UV to reach DNA and damage it.

One study found that people carrying a so-called R variant of the MC1R gene had a 42 percent higher incidence of melanoma, one of the most aggressive forms of cancer.

Melanoma is 20 times more prevalent in Caucasians than in African Americans.

However, the average age for melanoma diagnosis is 65. Therefore, Zorina-Lichtenwalter says, “it doesn’t threaten reproductive fitness.”

At that age, women have already passed their genes to the next generation. This is why, she says, redheads are unlikely to disappear from the gene pool.

More ginger genes

When he was working on that 1995 genetic analysis, Jackson knew there was more to understand about the factors conferring red hair.

“It seemed logical that there were other genes involved,” he says, but deeper exploration was not yet possible: Genetic research was extremely slow and costly.

While rapid advances in genetic technologies and computing had launched the Human Genome Project, the first draft of the genetic map would not be complete until 2001.

Now, a quarter-century later, quick, inexpensive genetic research is the norm.

Jackson and his colleagues recently revisited their inquiry with resources unthinkable in 1995.

They analyzed DNA from the UK Biobank, which contains genetic and health information on a half million residents of the United Kingdom.

They discovered eight previously unknown genetic variants that affect red hair and skin pigmentation.

“To go through and find those genes using the Biobank was very, very satisfying,” Jackson says.

This research, published in 2022, identified most of the genetic variation contributing to differences in hair color.

Most redheads have two MC1R variants, according to Jackson, one from each parent. But several other genes also affect whether your hair will be red.

“It's a particular combination that gives rise to red hair,” he says.

Researchers assigned each of the implicated genes a “genetic risk score”: with some variants exerting higher probability of red locks.

Others had much less clout but were still associated. You don’t need all of them to have red hair, Jackson says.

“MC1R is king when it comes to red headedness,” Zorina-Lichtenwalter says.

“It has a tremendous amount of say in whether we'll have dark pigmentation or light pigmentation.”

More than four-fifths of redheads carry MC1R; whereas the remaining reds are caused by other genes.

Geography and ancestry

A recent U.K. genetic study correlated the incidence of burnished tresses with place of birth, with more redheads in the country’s north and west.

“In the Biobank, you've got the latitude and longitude of birthplace of every individual,” Jackson says.

“The further north you were born, the higher the likelihood of having red hair.”

Red-haired, light-skinned genetics thrived in remote regions, closed communities, and islands––such as Scotland (estimates of redheads there range from Jackson’s 6 percent up to 12 or 14 percent); Ireland (10 percent); and Britain (6 percent).

While the populations of these countries are no longer cut off from the rest of the world, “when you have an insular population, isolated from others reproductively, then whatever alleles, they rise in frequency from generation to generation,” Zorina-Lichtenwalter says.

However, redheads are not only Celts or Caucasians. Their distribution is a testament to the global movement of DNA across societies and landscapes.

Although most common in Northern Europe, parts of Russia, and among European descendants in Australia, there are redheads from all ethnicities and races.

For example, both Morocco and Jamaica have higher-than-average numbers.

The reason, Zorina-Lichtenwalter says, is that several genes are responsible for triggering dark eumelanin production to protect skin.

But for hair color, she says “MC1R does appear to dominate, which is why variants in MC1R can still produce red hair in Jamaicans and other dark-skinned people.”

We are not amidst a redhead extinction event

"Claims that redheads are a dying breed are not new, and some of them were clearly linked to financial gain," Jackson says.

One headline that started an uproar blared, “Redheads May Soon Join Polar Bears As Casualties Of Climate Change,” which is a serious stretch.

"Climate change is creating more extreme temperature, drought, and flood; but the possibility that it will impact UV radiation enough to alter Northern Hemisphere genetics––within the predicted few hundred years––is slim," says Zorina-Lichtenwalter.

The source of this claim was Alistair Moffat, CEO of the now-defunct genetic testing company ScotlandsDNA.

Prior to that, the Oxford Hair Foundation (also dissolved) predicted that redheads would be extinct by 2100, with the gene variant that confers flaming hair slowly disappearing.

“[The institute] was a front, funded by a hair dye and cosmetics company to generate interest in hair color,” Jackson says.

While recessive genes can become rare, they don't utterly disappear unless every person who carries that gene either perishes—or does not bear children.

And clearly that’s not going to happen.

Wherever they live, redheads garner outsized attention, sometimes stigmatized, sometimes admired.

As testament to their continued presence in the world, they celebrate themselves in yearly “red pride” events in the U.K., France, and Italy, as well as the U.S.

The largest may be an event in August, when thousands of gingers from across the world convene in the Netherlands for “Redhead Days.”

[foggynightdonut]

Evolutionary Molucelar Clock

The Takeaways

Join us in Boston at the ASA conference as we Rework the Science of Adam, July 27 from 2 pm-5 pm.

A genealogical Adam and Eve, ancestors of us all, is possible as recently as 10 kya in the Middle East.

A sole-genetic progenitor Adam and Eve is possible before about 500 kya, perhaps with the rise of the Homo genus, or the common ancestors of Homo sapiens and Neanderthals.

The TMR4A is a new way to look at the genetic data, creating space for some understandings of Adam, but also foreclosing others.

[drawingconclusions]

THE ATTEMPT ON TRUMP'S LIFE

It was almost surreal watching the playback of yesterday's assassination attempt against Trump, feeling like a throwback to footage from the 1980s or the 1960s. As one interviewed bystander later pointed out, if former President Trump had tilted his head in a different direction, the consequences would have been disastrous. Thankfully, such a tragedy and a stain on our nation's moral fiber was averted.

Which leaves me wondering, why in the world weren't the buildings in the vicinity locked down for this rally? Reportedly the shooter was on a flat rooftop within roughly 148 yards of Trump with a clear line of sight to the stage. Some in the crowd even reported the suspect as acting suspiciously beforehand, and yet authorities lost track of him! That's completely unacceptable and someone should be fired for this obvious security failure.

On that note, the Secret Service would do well to finally heed the GOP's repeated request to keep protesters a considerable distance from the attendees at this week's Republican convention. One judge has already rebuked the desire to have a "First Amendment Zone" within close proximity of those at the conference. Have we learned nothing from the last few months of sometimes violent protests by similar left-leaning groups?

I'm usually very hesitant to comment on such shootings when the investigation is just getting started. Already some are assigning political blame for this vile attempt, and I'll admit, many on the left have been consumed with thoughts of violence towards Trump for years now, and one writer who came up with a twisted violent plot against him was even given an award for it. In the weeks since the debate, many Democrats have been repeatedly calling Trump "an existential threat to Democracy". Nothing inflammatory about that, is there?

My point is, we don't yet know the shooter's motives. But either way, can't we all just tone down the rhetoric and start engaging in political discourse like civil adults, instead of like savage neanderthals?

[samiholloway]

I'm endlessly annoyed that there were times in not too distant history when there were as many as what, maybe six? different kinds of humans around on the planet at the same time, and now there's only us. All this would be easier if we could just talk to some neanderthals and see how they consider themselves.

But in seriousness, Yeahhhh, that conference is coming. Taxonomy is messy at best. But that's what science does! It updates!

The thing is that the portrayal of Neanderthals as having been inherently grotesque and alien to H. sapiens is something we will never have proof of. But we do have proof that, in different locations and in different populations across time, we all found eachother desirable. We saw eachother and wanted to touch. And the offspring were held by their mothers and raised and had their own offspring in turn.

When you look for the first proof that H. sapiens found Neanderthals repulsive, you have to wait until the Victorian era, when the white masters of empires were busy portraying Neanderthals as stupid, brutish, and (of course) dark-skinned.

In more modern times, we’ve had people arguing that instead of seeing Neanderthals as Benighted Savages, they should instead be seen as Noble Savages, (allegedly) cruelly destroyed and driven from their lands by H. sapiens. Which one of their two you believe says more about your modern political views than it does about ancient H. sapiens.

And, whether we construct Neanderthals as Savage or Noble Savage, the fundamental assumption we project into the unfathomably distant past is still that H. sapiens saw Neanderthals as an Other, with the language we use being almost explicitly that of modern racial dynamics.

But we have no proof of any of that. We have no proof of hostilities. We know we co-existed and we had sex. That’s it.

Humans obviously have sex with some humans and kill others. We also know that, when small groups of humans occupy vast spaces with infrequent contact with others, unique cultures will always form, some more hospitable, some more neophobic/xenophobic. But many cultures of small settlements placed among huge unpeopled landscapes place supreme emphasis on hospitality to strangers. Plus, we fucking love other social animals, as evidenced by how we befriended wolves.

I’m a humourless weirdo and a wet blanket about popular constructions of Neanderthals as “monstrous”, and I freely admit it. But that’s because it’s tied up in legacies of imperialism. Not only that, but it also privileges one culture (yours, mine, modernity’s) as being most human by implicitly assuming we can project it onto people in the past. Since you don’t pretend that all global cultures share exact same values as you do, it doesn’t take more than a few moments’ reflection to realise you can’t do that to the past.

[deadstonemasonssociety]

Slimak argues that Homo Sapiens’ disposition for systematisation and standardisation might have conferred an evolutionary advantage during that period. It wasn’t a matter of Homo Sapiens wiping out other human species such as Neanderthals. Rather, their efficient ways may have played an pivotal role in their survival.

[kayvanh123]

Gene variants found in Neanderthals linked to heightened pain sensitivity.

A recent study led by UCL researchers has revealed that individuals harboring three specific gene variants inherited from Neanderthals tend to be more sensitive to certain types of pain. This discovery, published in Communications Biology, adds to the growing body of evidence highlighting how past interbreeding with Neanderthals has left a genetic imprint on modern humans.

The study focused on the SCN9A gene, which plays a role in sensory neurons, and found that those carrying all three Neanderthal variants—M932L, V991L, and D1908G—were more responsive to pain from skin pricking, particularly following exposure to mustard oil. While previous research had identified these variants in Neanderthal genomes and noted increased pain sensitivity in humans possessing them, the specific sensory responses affected remained unclear.

An international team, comprised of researchers from UCL, Aix-Marseille University, University of Toulouse, Open University, Fudan University, and Oxford University, and partially funded by Wellcome, conducted pain threshold measurements on 1,963 individuals from Colombia using various stimuli.

The SCN9A gene encodes a sodium channel highly expressed in sensory neurons responsible for detecting signals from damaged tissue. The study found that the D1908G variant was present in approximately 20% of chromosomes in this population. Of those carrying this variant, about 30% also had the M932L and V991L variants.

The researchers determined that these three variants were linked to a lower pain threshold when subjected to skin pricking after exposure to mustard oil, but not in response to heat or pressure. Moreover, individuals with all three variants exhibited greater pain sensitivity compared to those with only one.

Upon analyzing genetic data from 5,971 individuals across Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Mexico, and Peru, the authors observed that these Neanderthal variants were more prevalent in populations with higher proportions of Native American ancestry, such as the Peruvian population, which boasted an average Native American ancestry of 66%.

The researchers hypothesize that these Neanderthal variants may heighten sensitivity in sensory neurons by altering the threshold for generating a nerve impulse. They speculate that the prevalence of these variants in populations with significant Native American ancestry could be attributed to random chance and population bottlenecks during the initial settlement of the Americas. While acute pain serves to modify behavior and prevent further harm, the scientists emphasize the need for further research to ascertain whether possessing these variants and heightened pain sensitivity might have conferred evolutionary advantages in human development.

Dr. Kaustubh Adhikari, co-corresponding author and researcher at UCL Genetics, Evolution & Environment and The Open University, noted previous research indicating that humans also inherited genetic traits from Neanderthals influencing the shape of our noses.

Dr. Adhikari stated, “In the last 15 years, since the Neanderthal genome was first sequenced, we have been learning more and more about what we have inherited from them as a result of interbreeding tens of thousands of years ago.”

“Pain sensitivity is an important survival trait that enables us to avoid painful things that could cause us serious harm. Our findings suggest that Neanderthals may have been more sensitive to certain types of pain, but further research is needed for us to understand why that is the case, and whether these specific genetic variants were evolutionarily advantageous.”

Dr. Pierre Faux, first author from Aix-Marseille University and University of Toulouse, added, “We have shown how variation in our genetic code can alter how we perceive pain, including genes that modern humans acquired from the Neanderthals. But genes are just one of many factors, including environment, past experience, and psychological factors, which influence pain.”

For more information about our clinic, medical professionals, and treatment options, please visit our main website.

[snigepippi]

Last time I went to a conference that among other touched evolution, one lecturer suggested that like with so many other traits, the most beneficial version of the gene are more likely to be passed on.

The reason that the majority of genes that have been passed on are the Homo sapiens sapiens version, is because they where more beneficial for survival.

Some also suggest epigenetics plays a part. In many hybrids, the epigenetic imprint varies enough between the groups, that some genes will be perpetually inactivated in some combinations, and activated in others. And that affect the hybrid offspring. Look at the difference between mules and hinnys. Mules are harmonic and the crossnis successful in at least 1 out of 3 tries. Hinnys are much more rare due to spontaneous abortions, and they look like someone shortened the neck. The same might happen in sapiens/neanderthal/florinensis hybrids, where the sapiens traits just worked better.

Hey, were you the one that said we might not have any Neanderthals around bc we had interbred w/ them? I just read this study https://phys.org/news/2023-05-nose-gene-inherited-neanderthals.amp

i have no idea if i am but i do just assume all early hominid species were interbreeding regularly, considering we have a documented record that at least one chimp had consensual sex with a baboon right in front of a researcher.

that link doesn't seem to be loading for me though.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 24

Part 23

Series Masterlist

Contains: Fluff, smut (fingering, P in V) the crow tattoo, discussions of misogyny, fluff.

4k Words

Comment if you want to be tagged

Jax asks you a very important question.

Jax was awoken by you kissing his face, he could tell you had just woken up by the roughness of your voice, "good morning beloved." The moment he was with it, you were climbing on top of him.

"Good morning to you too."

You could hear the smirk in his voice and feel it against your skin, "what's got you in such a good mood?" The pressure of your body on his was pulling his mind to other areas.

"I just got off the phone. I've been asked to speak at a UN conference." You would have never told Jax otherwise but after Sam blurted out that you had won an award and told no one, not even him, Jax sat you down and expressed that he wanted to share in the things you were achieving.

So much to your embarrassment, you were doing your best.

"It doesn't matter Jackson, the work gets done no matter what. Winning awards and being asked to speak at some fancy university doesn't make me any better than someone who spends their whole life helping people with no acknowledgment. It's unimportant and therefore, doesn't need to be brought up."

Jax then explained to you that if someone was saying that to you about their achievements, you were be ripping into them, all be it lovingly.

Jax's smile was huge, his eyes wrinkling in the corners, "what for?"

You leaned down and kissed his chest, "torture as a method of control in the blood gemstone industry, not fun but very important."

Jax huffed, "yes, Sam told me the last time you did one of these talks. Did you really call out members by name?"

You nodded, "hell yeah and I'm going to do it again."

Jax's hand intertwined with your hair, "I'm so proud of you." He pulled you down into a firm kiss, his free hand coming up to lift your shirt.

"Is that the only thing that's got you all happy?" Your tone became cheeky.

"No."

Jax's hand lifted the shirt off your body, his fingers moving over that spot he decided on last night, "you wanna tell me?"

His tone was sweet and playful, "well I woke up and saw you lying there, like a snack and couldn't stop myself from thinking."

Jax smirked, "thinking about what?"

You could hear the ego in his voice, "you naked, begging me for mercy."

Jax smiled like he was entertaining a child, "you can try." You smiled down at him, Jax's eyes stuck on your breasts, "have I ever told you how nice your tits are?"

You shook your head, "I figured it out with how much you stare at them, but you can tell me again if you like."

You were shot his signature grin, "your tits are perfect, I wish you'd wear more low cut tops, you should go topless when we're at home."

You shook your head, "so you want me to show off?"

Jax's face changed, "on second thoughts, no, I'm the only one who can see them."

You leaned down again and kissed him, grinding your pelvis over his hard cock, "you're a neanderthal." He went to sit up but you shoved him back down with one hand, he went without protest but his eyes portrayed a burning hunger.

"What happened to making me beg for mercy?"

The smile you gave him was all predator, "you will." He didn't buy it, his hands moving to your hips to move them faster over him.

Jax could feel the wetness seeping through your underpants "come on Darlin, let me make you feel good."

You shook your head, "no way Teller, you're not getting off that easy." He got the double meaning.

"Alright, I'm all yours, but be careful, you might live to regret it." You smiled down at him, moving so you could pull your panties off. Jax looked at you for permission and when your smile widened, his fingers met your core.

"Holy shit you're wet." His thumb rubbed your clit and when your breath caught in your throat, he slid two fingers inside you. His thumb moved on your clit while his fingers pressed against your G-spot but you were doing most of the work as you rode his fingers. Jax was looking at where your bodies met, watching his fingers disappear inside you.

"I can feel how close you are, let go for me gorgeous." You were powerless to deny him, squeezing around his fingers while you did your best to hold yourself up. Jax relaxed his arm and he fell away from you, his hands moving back to your hips. You reached over and stroked him, his cock hard and weeping.

You moved back to grinding over him and you could feel the ridges of his cock on your wet slit. Jax's fingers were holding tight enough to leave bruises and he was clearly repressing the buck of his hips. You put your hands on his chest and started to rock your hips faster.

"Can I ride you?"

Jax slammed his head back onto the pillow, "you're killing me here."

You tilted your head, "that's not a yes."

He pressed his lips together, "y/n." His tone reflected his frustration, you placed one hand beside his hip to steady yourself and slid down onto him.

Jax's eyes were locked onto yours and his breathing was very measured, you, on the other hand, were struggling to get a breath in, "you're so big."

Jax could hear it in your voice, "take your time pretty girl, we have all morning." You nodded softly and moved down another inch, Jax's hand moving back to your clit to help you. As you seated fully, Jax showered you with praise.

"Shit, you're deep." Jax rocked you back and forth, and you found it almost impossible not to fall onto him, "it's alright, I know. Let me help you." You nodded and his hips started moving, his thrusts making it feel like he was splitting you in two.

"Oh my God." Your eyes flew open and your mouth dropped in a silent grunt. Jax was somewhere else, stuck on your warmth around him. Something must have spurred you on because you were riding him like you had somewhere to be. Jax could feel you clenching around him, just shy off the edge.

And then you slowed down, Jax grunted hard and tried to move your hips. You ground down hard enough for him to feel something but nothing that would get him anywhere. You lifted one hand off his chest to fluff you hair, Jax's eyes following the movement of your muscles under your skin.

"God, you're incredible."

You moved a little faster without paying him any more attention, "please, don't be cruel." You shrugged, "close enough. Unlike you, I'm not that bad." You sped up back the hurried aggressive pace you were moving at before and soon enough your legs were shaking.

"Be a good girl and cum for me." You heaved in a breath and fluttered around him, Jax thurst into you, hard, three times then came himself, his fingers digging into your skin.

You pulled off him and flopped down at his side, Jax's chest heaving up and down violently. "That was amazing."

You smiled softly at him, "yeah it was."

Jax was already smiling salaciously at you and he lifted his eyebrows, "ten minutes then round two?"

You smiled and shook your head at his attitude, "I'd like that."

****

You and Jax stumbled out of the bedroom around ten, Sam and Ima were eating breakfast two plates ready to go, "it's nice to see you finally invited Ima over for more than a few minutes."

Sam rolled his eyes, "don't be like that, she came over and stayed the night last night."

Jax pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh, "well that doesn't count. Are you worried I'd start to like her more than you?"

Ima was smiling, "yes. You have made friends with every woman I have ever dated and then you guys end up being friends and then you gang up on me." Jax was laughing now.

"Well tough shit handsome, your sister is awesome."

The whole table burst out in giggles, "see Jax, do you see what she does to me."

You shook your head, "eat it."

Sam and Ima left to walk the dogs after breakfast, leaving you and Jax alone. He picked up the coffee pot and directed you through the glass doors and into the greenhouse.

"Did you bring me out here for an extended breakfast or do you want to talk about some things?"

Jax sat down next to you so your legs pressed against his, "I wanted to ask you something?" You waved your hand for him to continue.

"How do you feel about the crow tattoo?"

You took a deep breath, "I am well aware of what it means and unlike property of tattoos, I don't find it morally objectionable." Jax seemed to visibly relax, "that doesn't mean I'm saying yes, if that's what you're asking, I have some things to go over first before I do that." Jax nodded for you to continue.

"It would have to be somewhere that was covered most of the time, and nothing huge. I'm ok with the fact that your initials will be a part of the design but they have to be done in a way that can't be seen by anyone who doesn't know where they are." Jax's smile would have lit up the abyss.

"I'm good with all that, can I call Happy?"

You rolled your eyes, "yes you can call Happy, we'll talk design and position once he knows what's going on."

Jax got up and kissed you hard on the lip, his hands grabbing your face, "you have no idea how much I love you."

Jax walked off to call Happy and you headed out the greenhouse doors to the backyard. The lake was almost done, and the meadow was in full bloom. Abel loved outside, he would look at all the flowers and babble like he was trying to have a full conversation. You were tending to the weeds and Jax came to get you.

"Happy will be free this time next week."

You ran through the calendar in your head, "me too."

Jax smiled and picked you up off the ground spinning your around in his arms, "I'm so happy you said yes." He put you down and pulled you into a kiss, his hands were moving down to your ass and pressing your body into his.

"Again!? Dude, you're wearing me out."

Jax smirked down at you, "yeah sure, I think I was the one who was woken up for sex this morning."

You shook your head and shoved at him gently, "come on, I'm sure Abel misses us."

****

It was mid-week when the asshole turned up, stinking like men's perfume doing his best to seem important while he yelled at the cleaners and complained that the lab was too cold. By the time he was done taking up your time, you had called professor Holt into your office so you could go home and deal with the brewing migraine.

But before you could go home and rest you got the call for Sam, a few of the One-Niners were at T-M with Alvarez working out the new alliance and one had slipped. He was fine but couldn't afford to get stitched up so you headed to T-M to help.

"Hello, I'm y/n. I'm here to fix up your cut." The man looked grey and in pain, "it's not nasty but it's on your shin so that's why it hurts so much. I'm going to spray some stuff on it, which will hurt like a motherfucker but after that you shouldn't feel anything." He nodded and you went to work.

"Is he going to be ok?"

You turned your head to the One-Niner shot caller, "he'll be fine Mr Wayne but he needs better shoes, looking at his gait, I'm guessing those are the reason he fell."

The man nodded, "they were a gift from my little girl. I can't bring myself not to wear them."

Once the stitching was done and the man was feeling better, you made your way to the dorm and sent Sam to get you a joint. You were trying to gather yourself when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

It was Happy, "are you ok?"

He had a cup of coffee in his hand and handed it to you. "Thank you." He sat down on the bed next to you and pulled a baggie of cannabis out of his pocket, rolling a joint and handing it to you before you had the chance to protest.

"My aunt gets them too, migraines. Sam was running off the clear passages but I figure I could help."

You only took one puff and handed it back to him, "thank you, I only need to manage until I can get home. I already feel much better."

He looked over your face, "your bedside manner was a but short today, is everything alright?"

You shook your head, "no. I had to spend the whole day with this one per cent dick who wanted to donate to the lab to get off on his taxes. He stunk like a boy's locker room and told one of our cleaners to get a real job so I'm in a shit mood."

Happy smiled, "who wouldn't be."

Knock knock

"It's me." You breathed a sigh of relief and Jax opened the door, "your head?"

You nodded, "while we're all here, we might as well go over the tattoo."

Jax sat down next to you, "why not."

The conversation was between Happy and Jax while you sat and contributed every now and then, "upper-back will hurt more but something tells me that's not going to be an issue for you."

You shook your head, "my pain threshold is crazy."

Jax laughed cynically, "that's not normal."

You giggled, "well I can get shot and shake it off so maybe you're just a weakling."

Jax shook his head, "you're such a badass."

You kissed him quickly, "don't you forget it."

****

Happy showed up at your place at eleven on Saturday morning, tattoo kit in hand. "I just got done sterilising the laundry."

He put his kit of the steal table in the middle of the room while Jax went off to get a comfortable chair from the library. Once it was all set up, Happy turned away so you could remove your top and lay on the chair with your back facing him. Jax was sitting in front of you, looking worried, "Jackson, I'm fine. I got half of my tattoos in a tent in the desert." He huffed a laugh and Happy went to work.

"I feel like I should be doing something more with my time. Can you please get the papers off my desk." You had bought a fancy writer's desk and put it in the library so you could do paperwork at home while watching Abel. Jax raced off and was back moments later, a pile of papers in hand.

"Is this for the new book?"

You nodded and Jax laid them out on his lap so you could read them, "yeah, it's bulletins and handouts from churches about various satanic things."

"Are you writing another book?"

Happy sounded genuinely interested, "yep. I'm calling it 'We are Afraid.' It's about the re-appearance of satanic panic in modern evangelicalism."

The machine paused, "that sounds fun."

You shook your head, "not really I'm losing brain cells."

Jax peered down at the papers on his lap, "I can see why. How is gluten-free food turning people away from God?"

You laughed, "I don't know but this dude in Texas sure does. I sent him an email last night, I'm sure he'll already have gotten back to me."

The day was fun, Jax and Happy added a lot of ideas that you would have never thought of. Jax was the dutiful old man, getting to get you whatever you needed the moment you asked for it.

The tattoo was almost done when Happy brought it up, "I didn't think you'd be the type to do this kind of thing."

You thought for a second before replying, "I'm not, the only reason I'm getting it is that I know Jackson doesn't see this as him actually owning me. I love you guys but motorcycle culture especially, outlaw motorcycle culture, hates women with a passion, even more so with women like me." They didn't deny it.

"I am to be seen and not heard and certainly not interfere in Club issues. Deep down, we all know that lots of Sons probably detest me, they just can't voice it because I've actually helped. I mean, it doesn't worry me. This is about more than just our relationship and what getting the tattoo means. This is about how other people see me as well, not in my eyes but in the eyes of the people I'm around." There was silence, followed by Happy speaking up.

"You don't mince words, do you?"

You shook your head as he wiped your skin a final time, "nope, I'm just waiting for all the old bigots to die so you guys can change things."

They both laughed, Jax gripping your forearm lovingly, "you're as blunt as a sledgehammer."

You stood up and Happy helped a mirror to your back, "well shit Hap, you did a great job."

Jax walked behind you and had a look, "it's not going to look like much for a month so stop staring before you ruin it."

****

"Some of the guys will be staying over so don't freak out if you come home and there are people there."

Jax was genuinely happy when he got the text. So far, he had only met Billy and Derek but he would overhear your regular conversations with them and you always hung up happy.

Sure enough, when he got home, he saw the unit mechanic Daniel moving around in the kitchen. The man walked up to Jax, sticking his hand out, "Danny, you must be y/n's boyfriend." Jax took Daniel's hand then Danny looked down at Abel in his car seat.

"You must be Abel. Your mum's right, you are a very handsome boy." Abel reached his hands out and Danny looked to Jax, Jax nodding in consent. Danny picked Abel and rocked him back and forth, "you can have some time to yourself. I've got a little boy his age at home and I've just realised how much I miss him."

You had told Jax that while everyone was over, he probably wouldn't get to spend much time with Abel because your friends would want to. "That's fine with me man. If he starts to really cry, y/n is the only one who can get him to calm down."

Danny laughed, "that sounds like her, she's got a thing with babies."

As the day went on, more men filed in. Derek greeted him with a hug, "it's good to see you again." By the time you got home, dinner was on the stove, the whole house was vacuumed and Abel had been passed around so much he was fast asleep in his crib.

"Morticia!" You walked in the door and were piled on by everyone, it must have taken ten minutes before you finally got to say hello to your partner.

"They're not giving you a hard time, my love?"

Jax shook his head, "nah Darlin, it's been great." You looked over at your friends, "is he telling the truth or are you making his life miserable?"

Billy threw his hands up in the air, "we've been good, I promise."

You wrinkled your eyes, "I'm not sure if I believe you. Have you told any embarrassing stories yet?"

There was a shout from the kitchen, "no, why would we do that to you."

You shook your head, "I need to have a shower. Don't burn my house down."

Dinner was lovely, Jax was getting along great with everyone and it was wonderful to be able to catch up with all your friends. "when can we see the Clubhouse?" J

ax went to reply but you stopped him, "don't say yes, they will drink you out of house and home."

Jax smirked, "I'm sure it will be fine, we have the big parties on Friday."

You plopped your head on the table, "Jax please don't encourage them."

He put a hand on your leg, "it won't be that bad."

Frank chimed in, "you don't know these guys, Billy will be running behind the dumpster with four women in tow if you give him that chance."

Billy put a hand on his chest, "I would never."

Everyone turned to him and Curtis, the unit medic, spoke up, "yes you are, you whore."

The table burst out laughing, "I'm powerless. Just don't try to drink them under the table, I dare to think bikers drink a little more than Marines." The oven dinged and you got up, Jax following you to help you carry the dessert to the table.

Derek turned to Aden who was the unit's version of Happy, a tall man with an imposing stare and hands like baseball mitts, "Morticia found Gomez."

They all began to smile as the point settled in, "she's deserves it."

When you came back, they were all quiet, "what did you planning? Please don't pull anything, I'm too old for teenage shenanigans."

They laughed and Curtis spoke, "nothing, we're just happy you're happy."

****

It had been two weeks since you got to tattoo, your friends had come and gone but Billy and Frank had stayed, hoping to set up an Anvil office in Oakland. The tattoo was almost done healing and the last the dry scabs had fallen off, leaving a cloudly but well-done tattoo behind. You had only been able to hold Jax off long enough for it to look presentable before he wanted to get a really good look at it. You were standing in the middle of the bathroom under full lighting while he stared at your back.

"It's still not healed all the way so no touching."

Jax's hands landed on the middle of your back, "you've only got two weeks left and then I can touch it all I like."

You shook your head, "you're insufferable, you know if you wanted to spend your time staring at it while we fucked, you should have put it on the front of my body."

He spun you around, his eyes landing on your breasts again, "no, this way I can see it when I want to and you can show it off without flashing everyone."

You slapped his chest, "are you saying you planned where to put it before we talked to Happy."

Jax gave you a sneaky smirk, "yeah, the night before."

You shook your head again, "what I am going to do with you Teller?"

He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, "I don't know. But I know what I'd like you to do."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close, "what?" He pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"I'm cashing in my winnings. Next time you lecture, I'm picking the outfit, don't worry I'll pick one of the ones you like to wear, and I want to come and watch. Then we're going back to my place and I'm fucking you until you can't think."

You took a deep breath, "lucky for you, I have a lecture on victorian sexuality next week. I'll see you there but I expect you to be read up on the topic."

Jax smiled, "as long as you're the one who did all the writing, I'll read twenty books if I need to."

You could hear the admiration in his voice, "I love you so much, Jackson."

You smiled down at you, tucking a curl behind your ear, "I love you too Darlin."

You remembered something and paused, "Bobby will be home next weekend, won't he?" Jax nodded.

"Will you be coming to his party."

You thought for a moment, "I'll do my best, I don't think I'll have too much on at work."

Jax grabbed your head in his hands, "great."

Part 25

I hated this chapter but it's been re-written a billion times and I give up.

[mqlaren]

The way Verstappen is being slewed by everyone and their parents, he's gonna need another media ban on... media in general, everything, I'm talking interviews, questions, written and oral communication, sign language, conferences, newspapers, ancient scrolls, the grunts that Neanderthals used to communicate, team debriefs as well so Sergio can't ask him questions

[girlmadeofstarlight]

what is a land acknowledgement? you wrote something about that in your post on rez dogs.

Hello! In short, a 'land acknowledgments' is a formal statement that recognizes, respects and honors the land and environment of the Native/Indigenous people's (stewards of the land) -past, present and future - whose land and traditional territories that you are standing on. Land acknowledgment is a gesture to help correct the stories, often incorrect history and practices that erase who Native/Indigenous people are - our history, culture and language.

This is becoming a common practice at the start of meetings, events, conferences, or at the entrance of museums. I have even started to see sports teams do this at the start of games (like the Chicago Blackhawks - but their mascot name needs to go, Indian mascots is a topic that I can also go into). Some give great ones, look up the Burke Museum's land acknowledgement while others are super cringe (cough, cough - Vancouver Island University).

You also have to remember it is more than just acknowledging whose land you stand on. It is a great first step but there has to be action. Learn about the Native peoples in your community. Most major US and Canadian cities have Indian centers and they are such great resources. If your city is derived from Native name, learn the correct pronunciation of that city. Learn about the real history of Native peoples - colonization, boarding schools, etc., not just what the textbooks say.

We Native people are not things of the past - we are here and we are thriving. Learn about current events that are affecting Native people's today such as Oil Pipeline protests, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW), and boarding school survivors. Support Native talent, there are TV shows such as Rutherford Falls and Rez Dogs, amazing Native authors such as Angeline Boulley, singers like Samantha Crain, are just a few of the many, incredible talents that are out there right now.

This is just a very SHORT explanation of land acknowledgement. There is so much great information out there on this subject and I encourage you to research and learn more about it.

One resource I like is: https://native-land.ca/

This website shows exactly whose land you are on.

The reason I brought it up was because of the funny way 'Reservation Dogs' included it in their recent episode. It was a very tongue in cheek and HILAROUS way because they went a step further by adding more to the their land acknowledgement by acknowledging the Neanderthal relatives, the Dinosaur Nation Oyate's (relatives) and the Reptilians Relatives - above and below Earth (this was clever nod and Easter egg because the woman playing the facilitator is in the new 'Prey' movie).

If you are not watching 'Reservation Dogs' I also HIGHLY encourage you to do so. It is a great representation of Native life through the eyes of four teenagers.

[noneun]

Svante Pääbo ha vinto il nobel per la Medicina

E io ne sono felicissimo!

La motivazione:

“for his discoveries concerning the genomes of extinct hominins and human evolution”

E anche:

“Through his pioneering research, Svante Pääbo accomplished something seemingly impossible: sequencing the genome of the Neanderthal, an extinct relative of present-day humans. He also made the sensational discovery of a previously unknown hominin, Denisova. Importantly, Pääbo also found that gene transfer had occurred from these now extinct hominins to Homo sapiens following the migration out of Africa around 70,000 years ago. This ancient flow of genes to present-day humans has physiological relevance today, for example affecting how our immune system reacts to infections.”

Non solo sappiamo molto di più sull’origine della nostra specie e dei nostri più stretti parenti grazie a Svante, ma a che come reagiamo a certe malattie, come il covid-19

[costellos]

❥ ┋ ❝ la squadra & what excuses they use to touch you!

a/n: head empty, just that hand touch scene in Pride in Prejudice....... anyway, this wasn’t a request, just a quick, unedited piece to help me get over my perfectionism. for context, you and your partner are not in a relationship here! just some old fashioned yearning.

warnings: mentions of nicotine in Melone’s part, unedited.

— risotto nero.

Risotto likes to help you out of the car.

he’s a big fan of the simpler things. watching the sun set over the countryside, the way grass smells first thing in the morning, holding the door when his partner enters a car and helping them out when it’s time to go...

he does it for all of his partners during missions. it’s the polite thing to do. he’s a hitman, not a goddamn neanderthal.

so when it comes to being partnered with you, obviously he’d do the same. hold the door open for you, close the door for you, and escort you out when it’s time to go. except when you’re stepping out, your shoelace gets caught in the lining of the car mat. you stumble over, and before Risotto knows it, he’s holding you in his arms.

oh. hm. this is... unprofessional. but that’s not what he’s thinking when he catches you. no, he’s thinking about how soft your hair feels against his skin. how lovely you smell. the way you curse under your breath, and despite how harsh your voice sounds, it’s something that’s so you that for a brief second, he can feel his heart slam as hard against his chest as your head did just now.

every time you step out of a car now, he offers his hand to help you out. ↳ “here. take it.”

— prosciutto.

Prosciutto likes to help you tie your tie.

it started innocently enough. you were partnered to infiltrate a conference center filled with business people; obviously you had to look the part. he could pass easily enough. after all, he liked to think he might indulge in the more operational side of Passione once he acquired a high enough position. it’d be a pleasant road to retirement. dress for the job you want, or whatever the hell that means. but you? ...jesus christ, what moron taught you that’s how you knot a tie?

he stopped you before you were even in the car. a small tch, a quiet come here, and his fingers were at work fixing the fabric around your neck.

it’s embarrassing how many times it took him to actually tie it, though. he didn’t realize how much warmth would seep from your neck onto his fingertips. you were so close, with your eyes sheepishly looking away as he attempted to make you look presentable. sure, he was also averting his gaze, eyes focused on the fabric. so damn embarrassing... but so intoxicating.

he makes this a habit every time you’re about to go out together. ↳ “when are you going to learn how to tie this yourself? ...no, I don’t mind. just— stay still.”

— melone.

Melone likes to take your hand every time you paint your nails.

he’s always the first to notice the little changes in your appearance. a new shirt, the circles under your eyes a little darker, your face being a little brighter — everything. even the things you don’t mean to be noticeable.

this was one of those instances. an undercover mission in a cigarette factory left your fingertips stained yellow with nicotine. a putrid yellow, mind you. disgusting.

so you painted your nails a pale pink. a natural color, just something to hide the yellow. you weren’t trying to catch anyone’s attention. but like everything Melone notices about you, he was quick to note the rosy nail polish.

he took your hand into his own without warning. it was supposed to be a quick look, just something to tease you about. maybe make some lighthearted comment about how nicely it complements your skin tone. he wasn’t expecting to feel how soft your hands were, or how perfectly you fit in his grasp... most of all, he wasn’t expecting to see those cute eyes widen at the sudden gesture.

now he does it whenever he catches a new color on your nails. ↳ “ah, a new color! purple, mm? trying to match me?”

— ghiaccio.

Ghiaccio likes to pretend he’s about to start a fight.

maybe it’s a little childish. manipulative, even. but he’s not hurting anyone, and everyone knows when he’s actually about to start a fight.

well. everyone except you. blame it on being the newest member of the team. it’s not your fault you haven’t familiarized yourself with everyone’s quirks. after all, you’ve only been on the team for two months. and it’s infuriating how deep Ghiaccio’s feelings are for you already.

everything about Ghiaccio can be measured in extremes. it’s not a bad thing; he has so much love for his team and his job and you. that was easy enough for you to recognize. so much so that when you held him back from a fight, you immediately felt the muscles in his arm relax.

everything about Ghiaccio just... deflated in that second. it was like one weight lifted from his chest, and another hit it a million times harder. his face was still red, but not from anger. your hand held his arm as you attempted to bring him back to reality, and just as quickly as you yanked him back did he realize how damn hard he fell for you. you didn’t even have to say anything. you just wrapped your pretty little fingers around his arm and he was yours.

he cracks his neck any time he’s about to fake a fight. that’s your cue. ↳ “you’re gonna have to hold me back for this one, [Name], because I’m one second away from beatin’ the shit outta this dumbass!”

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