#dna today live

[ofdeference]

.

[wickedhawtwexler]

god i love my violin studio squad 🥺🥺🥺

[theloverstomb]

‘Fragile Microbiomes’ by bio-artist Anna Dumitriu

1. SYPHILIS DRESS- This dress is embroidered with images of the corkscrew-shaped bacterium which causes the sexually transmitted disease syphilis. These embroideries are impregnated with the sterilised DNA of the Nichols strain of the bacterium - Treponema pallidum subsp. pallidum - which Dumitriu extracted with her collaborators.

2. MICROBE MOUTH- The tooth at the centre of this necklace was grown in the lab using an extremophile bacterium which is part of the species called Serratia (Serratia N14) that can produce hydroxyapatite, the same substance that tooth enamel is made from.

The handmade porcelain teeth that make up this necklace have been coated with glazes derived from various bacterial species that live in our mouths and cause tooth decay and gum disease, including Porphyromonas gingivalis, which can introduce an iron-containing light brown stain to the glaze.

3. TEETH MARKS: THE MOST PROFOUND MYSTERY- In his 1845 essay “On Artificial Teeth”, W.H. Mortimer described false teeth as “the most profound mystery” because they were never discussed. Instead, people would hide the stigma of bad teeth and foul breath using fans.

This altered antique fan is made from animal bone and has been mended with gold wire, both materials historically used to construct false teeth (which would also sometimes incorporate human teeth). The silk of the fan and ribbon has been grown and patterned with two species of oral pathogens: Prevotella intermedia and Porphyromonas gingivalis. These bacteria cause gum disease and bad breath, and the latter has also recently been linked to Alzheimer’s disease.

4. PLAGUE DRESS- This 1665-style 'Plague Dress' is made from raw silk, hand-dyed with walnut husks in reference to the famous herbalist of the era Nicholas Culpeper, who recommended walnuts as a treatment for plague. It has been appliquéd with original 17th-century embroideries, impregnated with the DNA of Yersinia pestis bacteria (plague). The artist extracted this from killed bacteria in the laboratory of the National Collection of Type Cultures at the UK Health Security Agency.

The dress is stuffed and surrounded by lavender, which people carried during the Great Plague of London to cover the stench of infection and to prevent the disease, which was believed to be caused by 'bad air' or 'miasmas'. The silk of the dress references the Silk Road, a key vector for the spread of plague.

5. BACTERIAL BAPTISM- based on a vintage christening gown which has been altered by the artist to tell the story of research into how the microbiomes of babies develop, with a focus on the bacterium Clostridioides difficile, originally discovered by Hall and O’Toole in 1935 and presented in their paper “Intestinal flora in new-born infants”. It was named Bacillus difficilis because it was difficult to grow, and in the 1970s it was recognised as causing conditions from mild antibiotic-associated diarrhoea to life-threatening intestinal inflammation. The embroidery silk is dyed using stains used in the study of the gut microbiome and the gown is decorated with hand-crocheted linen lace grown in lab with (sterilised) C. difficile biofilms. The piece also considers how new-borns become colonised by bacteria during birth in what has been described as ‘bacterial baptism’.

6. ZENEXTON- Around 1570, Swiss physician and alchemist Theophrastus Paracelsus coined the term ‘Zenexton’, meaning an amulet worn around the neck to protect from the plague. Until then, amulets had a more general purpose of warding off (unspecified) disease, rather like the difference today between ‘broad spectrum’ antibiotics and antibiotics informed by genomics approaches which target a specific organism.

Over the next century, several ideas were put forward as to what this amulet might contain: a paste made of powdered toads, sapphires that would turn black when they leeched the pestilence from the body, or menstrual blood. Bizarre improvements were later made: “of course, the toad should be finely powdered”; “the menstrual blood from a virgin”; “collected on a full moon”.

This very modern Zenexton has been 3D printed and offers the wearer something that genuinely protects: the recently developed vaccine against Yersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes plague.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

quick and dirty “synethic” embryos ethics guide:

are they a living member of the human species? then they have a soul.

[raekensluver]

hearts aligned

description: you and your roommate spencer reid have always been there for each other. one night he comes back from work and you two discover a different side to your dynamic.

pairing: roomate!spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: fluff!! mutual pining, typical criminal minds violence, reader is described as having shoulder length hair

song rec: fallen star by the nbhd- "you're in my dna, i can't keep away no matter how hard i try"

w.c: 2.7k

an: *sob* i love him.

it was a mundane tuesday evening, the kind that bled into the fabric of the week seamlessly. the apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator echoing through the hallway. the soft glow of the living room lamp cast a warm, buttery light, a stark contrast to the deepening shadows outside the window. you sat cross-legged on the couch, your nose buried in a well-worn paperback, the plot weaving in and out of your consciousness like a gentle stream.

the sound of the lock turning brought your head up with a jolt, the bookmark slipping from your fingers to land silently on the carpet. spencer reid, your roommate, stepped inside, his eyes weary but a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. his gaze swept the room before settling on you, the surprise in his eyes unmistakable. "you're still up," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very air.

you closed the book with a soft thud and gave him a warm smile. "yeah, i had some trouble sleeping," you admitted, your voice a little hoarse from the quiet of the night. "do you want some tea?" you offered, already pushing to your feet. his nod was all the encouragement you needed as you padded into the kitchen, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the living room. while the water heated, you listened to the soft thud of his shoes against the floor as he moved towards his room, the jingle of his keys a familiar lullaby.

but when you turned with the steaming mug in hand, you found him hovering in the doorway, watching you. "you know, i can do that," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't mind, really." his voice was gentle, a hint of concern lacing his words.

you paused, the ceramic warm against your palms, and studied him for a moment. his tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled from a long day's work, and his hair, normally a neat cap of chocolate waves, was disheveled. "you've had a long day," you said, your voice firm but kind. "just sit." you gestured to the stool at the kitchen island, the one that faced the stove where you were already setting out ingredients for a simple meal. "i'll make us something light."

he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "alright," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a seat. the fabric of his pants whispered against the leather of the stool as he settled in, his eyes never leaving you as you moved with an easy grace around the kitchen. you could feel the weight of his gaze, a warm presence that made your cheeks flush, and your heart stutter in your chest.

you filled a pan with oil, the faint sizzle as it heated up a comforting sound. "so, how was work today?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the sudden thrum of anticipation that had taken root in your veins.

spencer took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. "it was… interesting," he said, his gaze drifting over the steaming liquid. "but i'd rather not talk about that right now," he added, his voice a low murmur. "do you mind if we talk about something else?"

you nodded, setting aside the knife you were using to chop vegetables. "of course," you said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. "what do you want to talk about?"

spencer leaned against the counter, his expression pensive. "tell me about your day," he said, his eyes searching yours. "i feel like i never get to hear about it."

you felt a flutter in your stomach. "it was…normal," you said, the words feeling almost rehearsed. "work, errands, the usual."

spencer's gaze remained steady, a hint of curiosity lighting his eyes. "anything exciting happen?"

you couldn't help but chuckle at his persistence. "well, if you consider accidentally matching my socks with my shirt 'exciting,' then yes, it was quite the thriller," you said with a wry smile.

his eyes lit up with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching. "i see," he said, his voice teasing. "that does sound like a tale for the ages."

you rolled your eyes playfully, the tension in the room easing a notch. "it was definitely a fashion statement," you quipped, tossing a chopped carrot into the pan. the sizzle filled the air, the scent of garlic and onions mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

spencer set his tea aside, leaning closer. "i'm sure it was," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "but really, anything interesting happen?"

you met his gaze, a sudden realization dawning. "you know what, spencer?" you said, your voice earnest. "right now, this moment, is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all day." his eyes widened slightly, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. "just being here, with you, talking about nothing in particular… it's nice."

his cheeks colored slightly, and he ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "it is," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "i don't get to do this very often."

you cocked your head to the side, studying him. "what do you mean?"

he shrugged, his eyes darting to the floor. "i spend so much time working, or reading, or… just in my own head," he admitted. "i don't get to just sit and talk with people. not like this."

you felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of connection that was more profound than any conversation you'd had with him before. "i'm always here, you know," you said softly, the words slipping out before you could second guess them. "if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with."

his eyes snapped back up to yours, the surprise in them clear. "i know," he said, his voice a little gruff. "i just… i don't want to burden you."

you set the spatula down, moving closer to him. "you're not a burden, spencer," you said, your voice firm. "you're my roommate. and if you ever need anything, i'm here."

his eyes searched yours, the depth of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. "i know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "it's just… i don't want to take advantage."

you reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "you could never take advantage," you assured him, your thumb stroking a gentle circle against his skin. "we're friends, we're supposed to be here for each other."

spencer's eyes dropped to where your hand rested, the warmth of your touch seeping into his bones. "i know that," he murmured. "but i also know that you have your own life, your own things to deal with."

you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before retreating to the stove, the comforting dance of cooking resuming as if the moment had never happened. "and you're part of my life," you said, your back to him. "so, what's one more thing?"

spencer watched you for a moment, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, the way your hair fell in soft waves down to your shoulders. he took a deep breath, the scent of the simmering food filling his nostrils. "what's your favorite memory?" he asked, his voice a little rough.

you glanced over your shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "just one?" you teased, turning back to the stove. "that's a tough one." you stirred the contents of the pan, the spices releasing a symphony of aromas into the air. "but if i had to pick, it would probably be the first time we moved in together."

spencer's eyes lit up, the memory obviously a good one. "that was… crazy," he said with a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "but also… nice."

you nodded, your smile growing. "i remember being so nervous," you said, the words bringing a warm rush of nostalgia. "i didn't know what to expect, moving in with someone i'd only met once before."

spencer's gaze grew distant, his mind traveling back to that fateful day. "i was the same," he admitted. "i had this whole speech prepared about how we should respect each other's space and keep things clean, but when i saw you, it all just… disappeared."

you turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. "really?"

he nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "i know it sounds ridiculous, but you just… you made me feel comfortable. like i could be myself around you."

you felt your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "i felt the same way," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i remember walking in and seeing all these boxes, and thinking 'what have i gotten myself into?'" you laughed, the sound a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. "but then you looked up from your book, and you just… you were so genuine, so welcoming."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes a soft brown in the muted light. "i've never regretted that decision," he said, his voice earnest. "you make this place feel like home."

you blinked, the sudden weight of his words settling in your stomach. "i'm… i'm happy to hear that," you said, your voice a little breathless.

spencer pushed himself off the stool, the sound of it scraping against the tile floor breaking the silence. he took a step closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating like a small sun. "i mean it," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "you're the best roommate i could ever ask for."

you swallowed hard, the heat of the stove behind you seemingly nothing compared to the warmth in front of you. "thank you," you whispered, your hand still clutching the spatula. "you're pretty great too."

his smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "yeah?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

you nodded, feeling your heart race. "yes," you said, turning back to the stove to give yourself a moment to compose. "you're always there when i need you, and you put up with my terrible cooking."

spencer chuckled, moving closer to peer into the pan. "i wouldn't say it's terrible," he said, his eyes twinkling. "just… adventurous."

you shot him a playful glare, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "adventurous, huh?" you said, shaking your head. "i'll take that as a compliment."

spencer stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take the spatula from your grip. "i'll help," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the air between you felt charged, the tension thick and palpable. your heart was racing, each beat echoing in your ears like the tick of a clock counting down to something you hadn't quite anticipated.

you let him take over, watching as his long, slender fingers deftly stirred the sizzling mixture. "i've been meaning to tell you something," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "i know we've been roommates for a while now, but… i've started to realize that i might like you a little more than just a friend."

you froze, the heat from the stove forgotten. your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of uncertainty or jest, but all you found was sincerity. "spencer," you began, but he held up a hand to stop you.

"i know it's weird," he said, his voice rushing out like a river that had been dammed for too long. "and i know we're friends, and roommates, but… i can't ignore it anymore."

you stared at him, your thoughts racing faster than the cars on the street outside. "spencer," you breathed, his name a question, a declaration, a plea all rolled into one. your hand hovered in the space between you, unsure of where to land.

his eyes searched yours, the warmth of his hand as he took the spatula a silent promise. "i know," he continued, his voice a little shaky. "but i can't help it. every time i come home and you're here, waiting for me, it's like… it's like coming home to a piece of sunshine."

you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the words resonating deep within you. "spencer," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i… i feel the same way." the words hung in the air, a soft confession that seemed to illuminate the kitchen with a gentle glow.

his eyes searched yours, a hopeful spark lighting them up. "you do?" he asked, his voice tentative, as if he was afraid to believe.

you nodded, your own heart racing. "yes," you said, your voice clear and firm. "i've liked you for a while now. i just didn't know how to tell you." the admission felt like a weight lifting off your chest, leaving you feeling lighter than air.

spencer's smile grew, a genuine, boyish grin that made your heart flutter. "really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

you nodded, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. "yes," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. "i just didn't want to mess things up."

spencer set the spatula down, the clatter against the pan a jolting sound in the quiet kitchen. "you could never mess things up," he said, his voice a soft promise. "not with me."

you took a step closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. "are you sure?" you asked, your voice a little shaky.

he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "i've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said, his voice a low murmur. "you make me feel… alive, in a way i haven't felt in a long time."

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the confession so raw and honest that it was like a punch to the gut. "spencer," you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips.

his eyes searched yours, the question in them unspoken but clear. "what are we going to do?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

you took a deep breath, the scent of the food on the stove forgotten. "i don't know," you admitted, your voice a little shaky. "i just know that i don't want to ignore this anymore."

spencer reached up, his hand covering yours on his cheek. "neither do i," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. "i don't want to pretend it's not there."

you stepped closer, your hand sliding down to cup his face fully. "then let's not," you said, your voice a little tremulous. "let's see where this goes."

his eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively. it was a gentle touch, a question that hung in the air between you, waiting for an answer. you responded with a sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body a comforting embrace that seemed to fit you perfectly.

the world outside the kitchen faded away, the only sounds the faint crackle of the stove and the thud of your hearts beating in sync. the kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. your hands tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk.

you two broke apart, breathless, your eyes searching each other's for any sign of doubt or regret. but all you saw was a reflection of your own feelings - a wild, unbridled hope that seemed to set the room alight. spencer's chest rose and fell in time with yours, his eyes dark with want.

"i've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

you nodded, your eyes searching his. "i know," you said, your voice just as soft. "me too."

his thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "are we… are we okay?" he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

you nodded, your heart racing. "yes," you breathed, the word a soft promise. "we're more than okay."

edited 11.30.24

[blueiscoool]

Oldest Wine Ever Discovered in Liquid Form Found in Untouched Roman Tomb

A 2,000-year-old Roman funerary urn unearthed in southern Spain has been shown to contain the oldest wine ever found still in liquid form.

Discovered during home renovations at a property in Carmona in 2019, the contents of the urn were analyzed by a team of scientists from the University of Cordoba in a study published Monday.

Study lead author José Rafael Ruiz Arrebola, a professor of organic chemistry at the university, said that the urn was found to contain cremated remains, burned ivory thought to come from a funeral pyre and around 4.5 liters (1.2 gallons) of reddish liquid.

“When the archaeologists opened the urn we almost froze,” he said. “It was very surprising.”

The team then carried out a chemical analysis of the liquid and found that it was wine.

This was a big surprise, because wine normally evaporates quickly and is chemically unstable, Ruiz Arrebola said.

“This means it is almost impossible to find what we have found,” he said, explaining that the wine had been preserved by a hermetic seal that prevented it from evaporating, but it is not clear how the seal formed.

Further chemical analysis allowed the team to identify the liquid as a white wine, as it didn’t contain syringic acid, a substance only present in red wines, Ruiz Arrebola said.

It also has a similar mineral salt composition to the fino wines produced today in the region, he added.

“It’s something unique,” said Ruiz Arrebola. “We have been lucky to find it and analyze it – it’s something you only see once in your life.”

The researchers believe their discovery dethrones the current holder of the record for oldest wine in a liquid state, the Speyer wine bottle, found in Germany, which is thought to be around 1,700 years old. However, the age of the Speyer bottle has not been confirmed by chemical analysis.

The vessel was one of six funerary urns containing remains found in the mausoleum.

The discovery of a gold ring and other valuable artifacts suggest it was built by a family of considerable wealth, Ruiz Arrebola said.

However, little else is known about their lives, because cremation would have destroyed any DNA, he explained, adding that this means it is impossible to say whether the six people were related.

Ruiz Arrebola now plans to try to work out which modern-day local wine it was most similar to, although there are hundreds to work through.

By Jack Guy.

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said���you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[fattystoriez]

Preston’s 18th Birthday

Content Warning: Incest, Homophobic Slurs, Weight Gain

Preston was a normal teenage boy, except for the fact that he was adopted by a gay couple when he was born. His mother didn’t want him and he learned that some time after he was born, she died. He knew nothing about his biological father, but he never stopped looking, his dads didn’t even know who his father was. His dads were great, but Preston never stopped wondering what life would be like had he been raised by his biological father.

A couple months ago, Preston’s biological father reached out through Facebook. His profile had no pictures and seemed to be new, but he had the DNA test from when he was born to prove his relation. His name is Travis, he’s in his mid 40’s and he is a construction worker. Despite not knowing what his dad looks like, Preston started to talk with his dad more and more. His two dads suggested that he meet his father for his 18th birthday before the party, Preston thought this was a great idea and so did his dad. So they had made plans to meet, he would chat and have lunch and come back to his house for his party.

Preston’s Birthday

Preston woke up to a massive aching boner, one that was begging to be released. “Oh GOD!” He moaned loudly as he grabbed the hard on, his underwear soaked in precum. “Fuck I don’t have time to take care of this” Preston thought, “I’ll just take a shower and maybe it’ll chill out.”Preston’s cock calmed down after he took cold shower, but he could help but notice that he was still very horny. He threw on a t-shirt, a pair of briefs and some gym shorts. Preston checked his phone, it was 11:30am already, he needed to hurry or he’d be late for lunch with his dad. He went downstairs saying bye to his dads, got into his car and headed towards Travis’s place, his cock slowly leaking precum the whole way there.

Preston noticed as he was getting closer that his dad lived in a trailer park, which was fitting given he is a construction worker. He didn’t realize how nice he had it with his dads, living in a suburban home with a nice new car and electronics. Travis would barely be able to afford rent let alone all of Preston’s nice commodities. Preston knocked on the door, he heard heavy footsteps walk towards the door and it swung open to reveal Travis.

Travis was HUGE! His tight orange shirt couldn’t even cover his massive belly, and his underwear… or are they shorts??? They looked tight on his waist. His face was covered by a bushy beard, hair that the top of his head lacked. He still has some hair around the sides of his head, which only added to his grotesque appearance. “Preston!” The massive bear of a man said with a thick southern accent, he squeezed Preston in a tight hug, the contact making his cock leak some pre cum. “I’m so glad you’re finally here, I’ve been waiting to watch- I mean… see you all day!”

Travis showed Preston into the trailer, it was dingy and grimy, Travis clearly doesn’t know how to pick up after himself. Preston could tell he also didn’t smell the best, having a very distinct and vile musk that emanated from him “I’ve been excited too…” Preston noticed the massive amount of food that was over in the kitchen area. “Is that… for lunch today?” Preston was confused, there was no way two people could eat that much, even if Travis was a massive hog.

“Of course it for lunch big guy! You’re 18!” Travis said that as if Preston should know what that means, it was then that Preston felt his stomach gurgle in hunger. “But let’s start with your birthday cake, I made it special myself.” Travis walked Preston to the dining table and pulled out the most delicious cake Preston has ever seen.

“Oh you really didn’t have to do this much, there’s no way I’m eating all of this.” Preston said as he sat down, Travis cutting him a slice of cake. “Oh it chocolate, that’s actually my favorite.” Preston took a bite of the cake and it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life, it even made his cock stand back up. “Oh god… this is good!”

“I thought you might like it, made it with my own secret recipe.” Travis went behind Preston, massaging his shoulders as his son starts to pig out on the rest of the cake. “It’s a tradition for men in our family to eat like this on their 18th birthday, son.” Preston couldn’t stop himself from eating more of the cake, he couldn’t process what was going on. “When men in our family hit adulthood, we grow quickly into slobbish pigs.”

Preston was having a hard time processing the information, he couldn’t stop eating the cake long enough to worry about what was happening to him. “Oh god… daddy what’s happening to me?” Preston’s voice started to have a light souther accent that could barely be heard through the chewing.

Preston’s body started to plump up quickly, his abs from his years in track were fading away. “You can’t stop the change, son.” Travis started to feed Preston once the cake was gone, “Your faggot daddies couldn’t have prepared you for this son, they wouldn’t know what to do with a pig like you.” Preston’s head was spinning, his body getting fatter and fatter as his body gives in to his DNA.

Preston’s once smooth chest has pumped into two soft moobs that jiggled with every bite, his jawline started to fade as the fat started to accumulate. Preston was in a blissfully perverted shock as his whole life was being ruined by this pig of a man, his cock rock hard was leaking like a faucet, soaking his underwear. “Daddy… I’m getting so fat…” Preston moaned in between foods, “w-why do I sound like this daddy… w-“

“Shhhhhh” Travis shushed Preston as he shoved a greasy slice of pizza into his mouth. “You’re becoming just like your daddy, and your daddies daddy, as so on. You come from a long line of perverted hogs.” Travis gripped Preston’s cock with his other hand, “my daddy helped me out exactly like this, fattened me up real good.” Travis pumped Preston’s leaking cock as he told him how much of a pig he was going to become. “You’re gonna love it boy, you’ll be able to turn other men into fat hogs just like us. It one of our many talents, one that I can’t wait for you to use.” Preston was in a fattening bliss, listening to the hypnotic words coming out of his daddies mouth as he played with his own fattening body.

“Oh daddy… daddy I’m gonna-“ Preston released, soaking his underwear and his dad’s hand, this act of finishing sealed Preston’s already inevitable fate. “Oh god daddy, look what you’ve done to me…”

Preston’s belly was as big as his daddies, he couldn’t stop jiggling the soft flesh that had taken over his body. “I didn’t do nothin’ boy, this was your natural calling.” Travis took a doughnut, wiped Preston’s cum into it and fed it to his son.

After Preston was done chewing his specially glazed doughnut he wondered who he could make into a fat piggy himself, the he thought of his faggoty dads. “Let’s go visit my dads, daddy!”

“Of course boy, those faggots are gonna piss their pants when they see how big you’ve grown.” Travis helped Preston up and walked his half-naked fat ass to Travis’s pickup truck, the two whales could barely fit in it together. “We’ve got a party to get to, boy.”

Part 2?

[coochiequeens]

Womens history just got richer.

When the deeply patriarchal Romans first encountered Celtic tribes living in modern-day France and Great Britain in the first century B.C.E., their reaction to the roles of the sexes was one of surprise and dismay. The tasks of men and women “have been exchanged, in a manner opposite to what obtains among us,” wrote one Roman historian.

New evidence from Celtic graves now confirms that at least one part of Britain was a woman’s world long before the Romans arrived—and for centuries afterward. One ancient British tribe known as the Durotriges based its family structure—and perhaps property inheritance—on kinship between mothers and daughters. Men, meanwhile, left home to live with their wives’ families, a practice known as matrilocality that has never been seen before in European prehistory.

The work, published today in Nature, helps explain why women in Iron Age Britain are often buried with high-status grave goods such as mirrors and even chariots, says Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich archaeologist Carola Metzner-Nebelsick, who was not involved with the research. “It’s a fantastic result,” she says. “It really helps explain the archaeological record.”

Ancient histories—not least Julius Caesar’s 50 B.C.E. account of invading Gaul—hinted at female empowerment among the Celts. “They wrote about it because they found it so weird,” says Trinity College Dublin geneticist Lara Cassidy.

Many modern historians assumed the accounts were exaggerated; they dismissed rich female graves from the time as outliers. But over the past few decades, archaeologists comparing burial practices at hundreds of Iron Age sites from Britain to Germany began to think there was a kernel of truth to the Roman reports.

The Durotriges cemeteries, located in the far south of England near the city of Bournemouth, offered a way for Cassidy and her team to investigate. Burials there began around 100 B.C.E., roughly 150 years before Roman forces invaded the island. Unusually for Iron Age Britain, the tribe didn’t cremate their dead. Instead they buried them close to home, in the hills surrounding their farmsteads.

Whereas men were laid to rest with a joint of meat and perhaps a pot containing a beverage to sustain them on their journey into the afterlife, Durotriges women are often found with elaborate offerings including mirrors, combs, jewelry, and even swords. “If you judge social status by burial goods, then female burials have vastly more than male,” says Bournemouth University archaeologist Miles Russell, a co-author of the new paper.

Over the past 4 years, researchers sequenced DNA from dozens of Durotriges skeletons in a set of cemeteries in Dorset, England. By matching identical fragments of genetic material from different individuals, they reconstructed a family tree that spanned six generations—many of whom were female descendants of a single female founder. Two-thirds of the people in the kin group buried in the cemetery shared a rare type of mitochondrial gene, a form of DNA inherited only from the mother, including some of the men who shared the same female ancestor.

Other genetic evidence from the Durotriges cemeteries pointed to matrilocality, showing that men joined the clan from other families. “Women are staying close to family and are embedded in the support network they’ve known since childhood,” Cassidy notes. “It’s the husband who’s coming in as a stranger and is dependent on the wife’s family.” Women were evidently a force to be reckoned with in this part of Iron Age Britain.

Archaeologists have found that members of Great Britain’s Durotriges tribe often buried women with more grave goods than men.Miles Russell/Bournemouth University

Such patterns could help explain finds elsewhere in the Celtic world, where women were sometimes buried with rich grave goods or even chariots. “We’re thinking this could have been quite widespread,” Cassidy says.

To gather further evidence, she and her colleagues re-examined previously published genomes from more than 150 sites in Britain and Europe stretching back to the Stone Age. Starting around 500 B.C.E., the diversity in people’s mitochondrial DNA declined, the team found, suggesting more of them shared the same female ancestors. There was no matching decline in the diversity of Y chromosomes, which are passed from fathers to sons.

That suggests communities across Britain were anchored by specific female lines, with men marrying in from outside. “The signal they see in [the Durotriges] case study can be reproduced in other British sites,” says Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology archaeogeneticist Joscha Gretzinger, who was not involved with the work. “That’s quite a smoking gun.”

The study is part of a growing use of DNA to reconstruct genetic kinship in the deep past—and use it to shed light on the structure of past societies. University of Liverpool archaeologist Rachel Pope says the research is starting to highlight the wide variety of social organization people practiced in the past, something archaeology has hinted at over the past 2 decades.

Some of the earliest kinship studies using ancient DNA, for example, showed that Stone Age farmers in Britain and France living in the fifth millennium B.C.E. were organized patrilocally, with women leaving their homes to marry while men stayed put. The new data from Durotriges suggest that by the Iron Age, 4000 years later, something had shifted. “This is quite exciting,” Pope says. “There are moments in time in which societies seem to have a lot of high female status.”

[egglain]

HIIIII!! omg I LOved ur Letters to Santa!!! Also all of the dickcember prompts are so good??? Thoughts on day 12 Partridge in a Pear Tree with sukuna (or honestly ANYONE) and reader has a gift for him...reader has been wearing a cute little plug all day getting ready to surprise him!!

This was just a blurb so if you had smth else in mind I'D STILL LOVVE

HAVE SUCH AN AMAZING DAY!!

… And A Partridge In A Pear Tree!

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Modern! Sukuna x GN! reader Content: dickcember day 12 - anal, unshaven, gift-giving; fluff & smut, belly bulging, first times

thank you so much for this request! if there’s a prompt + character you want to see next, requests are open! send an ask :)

Your boyfriend, Sukuna, was hard to surprise.

Not in the he has everything way, like Gojo. No, Sukuna was not very fixated on material things. Not in the don’t know what to get him way either, though that was true.

Sukuna just wasn’t prone to feeling surprise.

He was like a bear trap; open, constantly lying in wait for something to snap at. This spring-trap way of living meant it was nearly impossible to ever catch him off-guard.

But today, you were going to do it.

You were going to surprise him.

It was the winter season, which meant many things for couples around the globe. Arguably the most important, it was the season of gift-giving; of showing your loved ones just how much they meant to you.

You and Sukuna had been going out for almost a year now– molded to each other's routines, intimately familiar with how your lives fit together.

It was December 12th; not a particularly special day on the calendar by any means. 

Which is why it was the perfect date for a sneak attack.

On the bus home, you couldn’t help but fidget next to your big boyfriend.

It was a beautiful day outside. Outside the big windows, bright skies sprinkled perfect little snowflakes onto the earth, painting the world in pristine white. All was still; much of the city was tucked away at home, as you soon would be. As you were supposed to be– that was, if you didn’t have to go shopping with your burly boyfriend for his coworkers.

You didn’t mind it though. Wrapping a wool-clad arm around Sukuna’s big one, leaning your head on his shoulder, you felt peaceful just the same.

“What are we looking for again?”

“Airbrush paints.” Your big boyfriend looked down at you, lips quirking into a soft grin. “Forget already? Why’d I bring you along again?”

“‘Cause you love me.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the scrunch of his nose. “Yeah, yeah. Deny it all you want but I know you, Ryomen. Who’s the paint for anyways?”

“Suguru. He wants to design a piece for his boyfriend but the guy’s terrified of needles. They compromised on airbrushing shit on, I guess.”

You hummed. It sounded nice to share a love that understood– that didn’t demand or compromise, but that found a third way. One where no one got hurt.

“And what’re you getting for Choso?”

“I have to get something for him?”

You elbowed Sukuna between the ribs, and the pretty noise he made– the bark of a laugh– made it worth it.

“Fuck– you’re a bony little shit, y’know that?” Sukuna looked down at you with amusement, shaking his head.

Few would mess with a guy like him. Easily a head and a half taller than you, wide as a fucking door, tattooed from head to toe; he looked like a criminal. And quite frankly, he acted the part, too.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, whatever. I got somethin’ for Kamo months ago.”

“Piercing stuff?”

“Oh– no. Those ancestry tracking kits that steal your DNA for nefarious purposes. He wants to take one.”

Weird gift, but whatever made him happy.

As much as Sukuna would never admit it, his coworkers were a lot more to him than just that. The guys at the shop had become a little family. Making them happy made your boyfriend happy.

So you let him drag you around town in search of the best, only stopping to subtly readjust a few times.

Your boyfriend– your thoughtful, lovely, intelligent boyfriend– had no clue what he was in for.

Beneath the warm layers of wool and fleece, you were dripping.

A fat metal plug, about 3 inches long, sat snug inside your ass. A pretty pink gem– the same soft colour as your boyfriend’s hair– was cozily nuzzled between the mounds of your ass.

You had never done this before.

Your tush was off-limits, as much as it pained Sukuna to see such a tight hole go to waste.

Your boyfriend was a creature of possession, of marking and territory and he was never satisfied until he was sure his claim was clear.

He had been yearning for a taste of your ass since you first took your pants off; desperate to fuck you open on his fat cock, to mold you to the shape of his dick, leave you so far gaped you could never erase his mark. He wanted to pump you full, watch his seed fill that hole before flipping you around and doing the same for your mouth, until you smelled and tasted like him all over.

But it was always a no. 

Until today.

You were going to surprise your boyfriend.

After a long day of bus rides, shopping carts, and paint swatches, you finally kicked your snowy boots off.

“Gonna bathe,” Sukuna grunted, dropping the bags by the door.

You took off your coat, hanging it up before rubbing your frozen hands together. Fuck, it was frigid out.

Your boyfriend padded to the stairs, pausing on the second step. “You coming, or what?” 

Heat flooded your navel, warming your core and sending delicious sparks to where you were full.

You rushed to catch up with him, letting Sukuna pull you upstairs to the bathroom. He made quick work of plugging the drain and turning on the hot water, even as you draped yourself over his back to kiss at his nape.

With a grunt, he stood, shaking you off as he removed his shirt unceremoniously.

Your cold fingers itched to feel on him; those plush pecs were always a hundred degrees, and nothing sounded better at the moment than two handfuls of tit and a nice defrosting.

A white shirt flew at you, whipping your side playfully.

“Don’t even fucking think about it, brat.”

You pouted.

He didn’t budge, keeping his distance as he dropped his sweats and boxers.

Even soft, he was huge.

Fuck.

The plug shifted minutely inside you as you clenched and unclenched around it.

Sukuna made a point of staying out of reach as he rummaged in the spacious bathroom for things to put in the tub– those fizzy balls, the sud-making stuff, the salt– you had trained him well. He put products on the lip of the tub, testing the temperature of the water on the inside of his wrist. All the while, he paid you no mind.

Well, two could play that game.

You slipped out of your shirt, making quick work of your underlayers, before sliding off your bottoms. Turned away from him, you were sure to make a little noise as you slid off your underwear, bent to show off the pretty gem between your cheeks.

It took one– two– three look-backs for the image to click in Sukuna’s head.

You had never seen him move faster.

Hands were on your flesh before you could process what was happening.

Knelt behind you, your boyfriend's hands pried your asscheeks apart, practically nosing at the plug inside you.

“Fuck.”

Your partner was by no means expressive or good with his words– but this?

You could hear a pin drop as he stared, flesh of your bottom heating under his intense gaze.

You snuck a look back, shaking your ass in his face just a little.

If Sukuna was any less hypnotized, he would’ve given you a nice spanking for being a tease.

But now, almost mouth to mouth with your sweet hole, he couldn’t do anything but breathe heavily through his nose.

If he didn’t focus on breathing, he was certain he’d pass away on the spot.

“You like?”

If his blown pupils weren’t enough of an indication, his cock– now half-mast and quickly filling– told you all you needed to know.

“Wanna take it out?”

Sukuna swallowed, throat like sandpaper as he nodded.

Thick fingers gripped at the polished edges of the metal plug, giving a slow tug.

You were tight.

As fuck.

As his fingers stilled, the plug slipped right back in, eliciting a little whine.

From who? Sukuna couldn’t tell.

“Harder, ‘kuna– you won’t break me.” You braced yourself on the marble counter, bent and arched.

With a more forceful tug, the plug slipped out all at once, leaving your pretty hole fluttering around nothing.

Wet warmth flooded your ass.

“Sukuna!”

You jumped, flinching forward to escape his tongue.

Big hot hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his face.

“Haven’t shaved… don’t do that–”

“Don’t care.” It was muffled, tongue working deep inside your tight hole. 

Fingertips dug into the meat of your ass as he feasted, devouring the copious amount of sweet lubricant inside you. 

Replacing it with his mark; his thick spit.

You groaned, head dropping onto the counter as your neglected front got wetter.

Just as quickly as it started, he was pulling away.

“Bath time?” You blinked, trying to still the spinning of your head as you looked back at your boyfriend.

Sukuna had never looked so fucked.

His cheeks were a vibrant rose, matching the flush of his dripping cock. A cock he was furiously fisting as he stood.

Sukuna’s blunt tip prodded at your hole, which graciously parted at the prospect of something fat to fill it right back up.

“Fuuuuuck.”

Sukuna rocked forward slowly, girthy cock stretching you deliciously. The ache shot through your body, nipples hardening and mouth parting at the feel.

A cry– high and whiny– escaped your big boyfriend’s throat.

You did it.

You finally broke him.

Plush arms wrapped snug around your waist as Sukuna draped himself over your back, fucking into your ass unforgivingly. He punched the air out of your lungs with each thrust, tip bullying your insides in a way that had you dripping all over the floor.

“Fuck– tight. So fucking tight.” Although it was pressed up against your ear, he was talking to himself, all growled nonsense. “Need this ass. Need to mark this fuckhole so fucking good.”

You pressed back against him, grinding on his veiny cock as he worked it deep in your tummy. One big hand smacked against the meat of your rump, prying open your cheeks to seat himself further inside.

With an iron grip on the fat of your bottom (one that was sure to leave finger-shaped bruises the next morning), he rammed into you. His leaking head prodded at your insides in a way that had your stomach bulging with each thrust– something he ran a possessive hand over, putting pressure on your lower abdomen.

Each hump had stars exploding behind closed eyelids, toes curling against the cold bathroom tile as he practically lifted you onto the counter with his forceful movements.

The coil between your legs wound, thighs tensing as Sukuna nibbled at your earlobe; you knew it was taking everything in him to not bear into your shoulder, to not draw blood.

“Gonna stuff you so fucking full.”

Whether it was the grunted way he said it or the way he ground deep inside, you were cumming. Your release, fucked out from between trembling thighs, splattered all over the white bathroom tile.

The way you bore down on him had Sukuna tumbling off the precipice right after you. The rocking of his pretty dick stuttered as thick milky cum flooded your hole. He fucked it into you shallowly, rubbing the tip of his cock over the smooth flesh of your tummy.

You had never felt so warm.

So much for freezing over.

Oh, fuck– the bath.

“Sukuna!”

Your boyfriend, pliant against your back, could only murmur praises into your neck as you squirmed.

“The water!”

“Fuck the bath.”

“You came inside– I gotta–”

“Don’t gotta do nothing. You’re perfect.”

In the end, with a little wrangling and some praise, you managed to wrestle Ryomen Sukuna into the bath.

Big hands massaged the tense muscle of your shoulders, then down your arms, as warm bubblegum pink water pooled around your bodies. Resting back onto his firm chest, you allowed your eyes to shut, groaning happily as he worked out a knot with practiced fingertips.

Gentle lips pressed a feather-soft kiss to the top of your head, then the side of your neck.

“Thank you…”

It was soft, barely there– but in the otherwise silent bathroom, it was clear as day.

“I love you.”

Your boyfriend was hard to surprise.

But he always managed to surprise you.

banners by @strangergraphics!

[etherealperrie]

Anywhere With You

Chapter 1: "it's time to go"

Coriolanus (Coryo) Snow x Reader Word count: 2.4k Contains: pre-hunger games Coryo | longtime friends to lovers | Coriolanus being soft for the one he loves | mentions of minor tbosas characters | immense amounts of fluff and comfort | slight tbosas spoilers (but not really)

Want More? Chapter 2

--

“The Plinth Prize is no longer.” Dean Highbottom’s voice echoes through the stadium of students, the weight of his words settling amongst the first three rows of Academy standouts. Gasps and whispers fill the crowd, the hair on the back of your neck standing at attention, the buzz of others’ words sending chills down your spine. You don’t dare look at Coriolanus, instead letting your eyes fall shut.

“You’ll face one more test to prove your worth,” the Dean continues, making his way up to the podium at the front of the hall. “After all, you are our most promising students. This is in your DNA.”

Swallowing hard, you force your eyes open, a sick feeling reeling in your stomach. This was supposed to be the end. This was supposed to be the start of your summer with Coriolanus – the time before University. The day that was supposed to change both of your lives for the better.

Murmurs fill the quiet space in between Dean Highbottom’s dramatic pause, stopping not only to drag out this horrific explanation but to soothe himself with a bottle of morphling. You’d never once wished to try the drug, but today, with your vision of the future thinning before your eyes, you’d gladly share the vile with him.

The feeling of skin brushing against yours turns your attention from the front of the room to the chair next to you. Coriolanus. You can’t hold back anymore. You didn’t care who saw, or what they thought. You watch his jaw twitch, his eyes still facing forward as his hand grasps yours, his thumb pressing slow, gentle circles into your skin. He’s holding it in. Another hurdle yet for him to surpass. When you squeeze his hand in return, an involuntary response, he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering to you for only a moment.

Coryo.

Not Coriolanus Snow. Just your Coryo for that moment.

The eyes of your fellow classmates burn at the back of your neck. They all knew Coriolanus was meant for that prize. Top student with stellar marks, after all. Only you knew, though, how badly he needed it. How badly Tigris needed it. The Grandma’am. You, too. This day was supposed to change everything.

Indeed it had.

“On this day of the 10th annual Reaping for the Hunger Games, you all are no longer students, but mentors.” Dean Highbottom continues speaking, pulling you from your own head. Coriolanus shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his free hand tugging at the collar of his shirt. A shirt he’d nearly outgrown, even with Tigris’ adjustments. His other hand never releases yours, his thumb continuing to trace up and down your skin, working to calm you. In any other circumstance it might have worked.

“Each of you will be paired with a tribute from the districts and act their mentor leading up to and throughout the Games.”

“For what purpose?” you ask. The question leaves your lips before you have a chance to even think. Before you have a chance to consider the consequences. What harm could an innocent question have? It was innocent, of course. A student simply inquiring about the new assignment. Certainly nothing more. Most definitely not an imposition of the justness of withholding the Plinth Prize and meddling in “game” that was nearing its natural end. No one in the Capitol had watched the games in years, they were savage. Inhumane. Disconnected from the current state of affairs; the war had been over for years.

Deep, dark laughter fills the room, an unfamiliar voice echoing off the walls. Chills crawl up your spine, a shive running through your body. Everyone's heads whip around, a tall figure entering the auditorium. She slithers down the aisle towards the podium, stopping just in front of your chair. You slip your hand out of Coriolanus’, but he refuses to let go now more than ever. His grasp tightens on you and you notice him shift forward in his seat. It’s now your turn to soothe him, running your thumb over his.

“For what purpose?” the woman before you mimics. You swallow, noting her duochromatic eyes. Her makeup is severe, her hair frazzled, her hands draped in bright red latex gloves. The faint sound of hissing grows louder as she takes another step forward. A snake is wrapped delicately around her wrist, flicking its tongue, slithering over the shiny material. “My dear, remind me. What are the Hunger Games for?” She speaks softly, but in the silent room, her words are clear to all.

“I– well, they’re to –”

The woman shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “You see? We’ve already forgotten.” She turns to Coriolanus, a smile spreading over her lips. “Mr. Snow,” she says. “Why don’t you remind your –” her gaze drops to your intertwined hands, “classmate what the Hunger Games are for.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, looking at you then back to the woman. You weren’t sure who she was, but she knew Coryo. But then again, that came with the territory of being a Snow. He could never escape the history and prowess of his father, no matter how hard he tried. And believe you, he’d tried.

“You tell us they’re to punish the districts for the war.”

“Precisely, Mr. Snow. We all seem to have forgotten what this all is for. And that is where each of you come in.”

“Ah, Dr. Gaul, thank you for providing that insight,” Dean Highbottom interrupts, turning the attention back to the center of the room where the woman – Dr. Gaul – sulks away to join him. Coriolanus leans back in his seat, his breathing heavy. He releases your hand and leans in to place his hand on your thigh. The feeling of his warm palm through the fabric of your uniform lets you take your first deep breath since arriving.

He’s with you.

The remainder of the day goes by in a blur. When you emerge from the Academy, the afternoon sun is beginning to set. You, Coriolanus, and your classmates had each been assigned a tribute. A tribute to make a spectacle of. A tribute to use then sacrifice into the slaughter in order to obtain some prize. It made your stomach turn, the idea of being forced to take the small boy you’d been ‘given’ and parade him around only to send him to his death. A small boy no more than thirteen. A boy you were meant to despise simply because he’s district. But this boy, nor any of the tributes – especially the small girl assigned to Coriolanus – had seen the war, they hadn’t caused it. They were collateral in the Capitol’s game of control. Control they garnered with false promises of the prize. A prize that neither you nor Coryo thought actually existed.

“Who’s to say they don’t dangle it in front of us again?” you ask later that night, standing beside Coryo at the sink while he washed out the pot of potatoes and cabbage Tigris cooked. “That they don’t give us another assignment – another hurdle – to obtain the prize. Just to use us for their bidding?”

You slide behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sighs, setting down the pot and turning to be face to face with you. His hands wander around your waist, pulling you tighter to him.

“Those poor kids are going to die for nothing, Coryo. And we’re to blame,” you cry, resting your head on his chest. He takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to the top of your head. You fit into him so perfectly. The steady, rhythmic beat of his heart in your ears grounds you, tethering you to the moment.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “Dr. Gaul is clearly mad. The way she taunted you?” He pauses, sucking in a breath. There’s a few beats of silence before he speaks again. “I don’t know what she’s capable of, but if she’d have laid a hand on you, I-”

You lift your head to look up at him and lift your hands to place one on each side of his face. His eyes, a blue so clear you can see right into his soul, meet yours.

“I know, Coryo, I know.”

“We have to get out of here,” Coriolanus says. His gaze still holds yours, his demeanor serious.

Your brow furrows. “Get out of where? The Capitol? Coryo, where would we go?”

“Sejanus talks of a place up North, somewhere off the grid where nomads persist.”

“You can’t be serious,” you say, letting your hands fall from his face.

You wanted out. You’d heard rumors of this place up North too, but assumed it was fictitious – maybe a story the districts orchestrated to provide some hope after the war. You’d been taught to be grateful for a life in the Capitol, after all, your name would never be reaped. But the longer you spent here and the older you grew, the more the story of the Capitol and its protection seemed to fall apart. Today had been further proof. Putting the lives of district children in the hands of Capitol children for the sick purpose of entertainment and control.

Coryo turns his head to look out the floor to ceiling windows of the Snow penthouse. Coriolanus had many thoughts about his home, not all of them poignant and kind. He hated the way his home had crumbled throughout the war. Sure, it wasn’t as luxurious as it had once been, but you had an unspoken appreciation for it, knowing that everything within these walls shaped him into the Coryo you loved.

“If we go back to the Academy tomorrow, we’ll never escape. I have a sinking feeling about this game, love. I don’t want Gaul and her creatures hurting you and who’s Dean Highbottom to miss either of us? The miserable bastard will be three morphlings gone by the time the games begin.”

“What about Tigris? The Grandma’am? What about my family?”

Coriolanus sighs. “I’ll make arrangements with Pluribus tonight, he’s always done well to take care of us before.” Coryo reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, taking a pause to caress the side of your face. “And I’ll go wherever you go. If you want to stay, I’ll remain here with you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be there to protect you. This,” he whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip, “is the most important thing to me.”

When your eyes meet his, the defense falls away. He sometimes wished you didn’t have such an effect on him. He never struggles keeping things in, or keeping the world out of his head. But with you – those eyes – he couldn’t hide. He’s grateful for it, really, before you he’d never had a soft place to land. But now, with your hands caressing him, he knows he’s found it.

You could imagine it. The thing you’ve always wanted, a life with Coryo. A life without the influence and ever-looming threat of the Capitol. Of their control, of the stress of finding a way to the top. Coryo wanted the same thing, a life with you. A life where you two were free to be whomever you wanted; a simple life where you could eat what you wanted, when you wanted, and spend your days lying with one another and living amongst others peacefully the way you imagined you would when the war first ended.

“I can’t go back there, Coryo.”

“Then tomorrow morning, we’ll go.” He says it so matter of factly. As if it’s all going to be okay. You choose to believe him and sink into the strength of his chest, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He chuckles, bringing some levity to the decision the two of you just made. “Why don’t we bask in one last hot shower, hm?”

You follow him down the hallway to the bathroom, his foot kicking the door shut in one swift movement. He reaches into the deep green tiled shower and turns on the water, running his hand under to test the temperature. You’re out of your clothes within seconds, eager to shed the identity of the Academy. Coryo does the same, eyeing you with a grin as you step past him and into the shower. He’s so himself here, stripped before you, not carrying the weight of the day, letting it all wash away from him as he ducks beneath the water, dampening his curls.

Without thought, your hand is in his hair, pushing the light blonde strands away from his face, those piercing blue eyes wandering every inch of you. He breathes into your touch, his hands following his gaze, mapping every inch of your body as if committing it further to memory. They say it’s the things we love most that destroy us and – god – he was certain you destroyed the parts of himself that he sometimes feared. With you, he was just Coryo. Your Coryo. And starting tomorrow you could be each others forever.

The warmth of the water combined with the feeling of his skin pressed against yours is heavenly. The steam rises, fogging up the glass as you tip your head back to dampen your hair. Your eyes fall shut, letting the water run down your body. Your body awakens when Coryo’s lips meet your neck, peppering kisses up your jawline until eventually, his hands are tangled in the ends of your hair, lifting your head back to meet him. Sighing, your body alight with warmth and desire, Coryo presses his lips to yours. There’s a quiet moan that you can’t make out as distinctly his or yours, but a shared expression of your feelings.

Something about this being the last night with life as you’d known it changes the kiss. There’s no hesitation, but no urgency either, your bodies intertwining in a way they haven’t before. As if there was nothing and nowhere else that mattered. You’re typically both so consumed with academy assignments, or house work, or recovering from whatever the day brought you. But tonight, with tomorrow on the horizon, it was simply you and Coryo.

[astrocafecoffee]

Synastry and composite chart notes 💕

💟 For entertainment purposes only. Enjoy 💟

💖Moira( 638)asteroid in 7th house synastry: moira asteroid is related to fate, destiny. When someone's moira asteroid fall into your 7th house it indicates strong karmic connection between you both . You guys meant to meet and form a bond.

💖Destinn asteroid ( 6583) in 7th house in synastry: fated romantic connection. Both find inspiration and fulfillment through this connection.

💖Northnode conjunct Hera asteroid (103) in synastry: north node is related to future fate and hera is a marriage asteroid, so guys you know what I mean 🌝 , it's a fated connection .

💖Fama(408) conjunct juno in synastry: relationship with strong potential for fame/ public connection.

💖Karma (3811) conjunct south node in synastry: a strong past life/ karmic connection between you both. There is Karmic lessons need to be learned in this connection.

💖South node conjunct ascendent in synastry: again strong past life connection.

💖Destinn asteroid conjunct your name asteroid in synastry in 7th house: fated connection, there is a sense of destiny/ purpose in this connection.

💖Vertex conjunct northnode: meant to meet .

💖Union (1585) conjunct Boda (1487) in synastry: destiny related to partnership/ marriage. Strong connection between you both.

💖Briede(19029) or Groom (5129) asteroid in one of the angular house: often found in married couples.

💖Boda conjunct Harmonia asteroid: harmonious connection between both of you in the context of marriage and partnership.

💖Karma asteroid in 8th house synastry: unresolved issues from past lives need to be solve in this lifetime.

💖Devine (3561) asteroid in 7th house synastry: devine connection in the context of relationship.

💖Sun/ juno in Libra in composite chart: found in married couples.

💖Vertex in 7th house in composite chart: marriage placement.

💖Vertex conjunct karma asteroid in 7th house in composite chart: karmic connection between you both, meant to be in relationship.

💖DNA( 55555) asteroid in 7th house composite chart: fated to have relationship based on family/ genetics.

💖Moon conjunct descendent in composite chart: emotional bond and sensitivity in the relationship , strong emotional support between partners.

💖Destinn asteroid in 10th house of composite chart: meant to have relationship involved fame/ public reaction.

💖Union in 10th house composite chart: could meet in work environment , 10th house related themes / social events.

💖Aquarius rising couples in composite: bestfriends , out of the norms activity, breaking social norms ☠️.

💖Hera asteroid conjunct northnode in composite chart: again relationship based on marriage.

💖Saturn in 4th house composite chart: family can create disturbance in this relationship.

💖10th/5th/4th/7th house stellium in composite chart: found in married couples.

That's it for today. Thank you💕hope u guys enjoyed.

[nemisuki]

Metal Love

Robot AU | She was the first successful experiment, created by the government to protect UA students from potential harm. And he was the troublemaker, who needed to be monitored more than others. 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, very dense reader, protective + jealous bkg, aged up to third years, bakusquad mentions, silly moments, bkg has feelings, open ending, 3k word count

“For a robot, she’s pretty cute huh?” 

That's practically the topic of all whispered chatter as Class 3A enters the cafeteria. It made his scowl deepen with disgust. 

The constant focus was always about a “student” among the third years. 

An advanced technology sent in by the Japanese government. 

More specifically, the first successful model. 

Apparently she was scientifically created using human DNA, hence her appearance is nothing unusual. Especially in today's age, where the connection of society and mutant-type quirks, heteromorphs, are so common. 

Though she did have mechanical features regarding her prosthetic arms, built perfectly for combat and defense. 

A perfect soldier - Model #8307. 

Despite being the ideal android, there is one thing she lacked : human emotion

Thus the government sent her to UA High School on a sole mission.

To protect Class 3A til graduation. 

Hoping she’ll develop an understanding on what it means to be human along the way. To have feelings.  

It's notorious all around Japan that since those specific students entered UA, trouble seems to follow them everywhere.   

So after many precautions and examinations, the government sent the model over for a test run. Finding it beneficial for everyone.

Given a scenario where some villains were to attack the school, as coded into her programming, she would alert the authorities and defend until help arrived.

If done well, more of these creations would be produced to enhance the safety of all schools and buildings. Pushing Japan to be the first country with a solid line of defense that requires less human labor and lives to be lost in battle.

It’s been a few months since she first arrived at UA. 

And it’s been a huge success so far.

Through daily interaction, Y/N started to gain more knowledge on emotions, though she’s still a bit lacking in some areas. 

Their classmates scatter around the lunch tables like any other day, eating food as they joke around.

“Hey where's Y/N?” Kirishima asks out loud to the Bakusquad, noticing her usual spot next to the blonde is empty. 

And when no one has an answer, he looks to his friend, “Bakubro where is she?” 

“Hah, how the hell am I supposed to know? I ain’t her damn guardian” Bakugo scoffs with his signature scowl on his face. 

“Oh c’mon! We all know you have a soft spot for her. Plus she’s practically always glued to your hip!” Kaminari chimes in with a smug grin. 

“Shut your trap dunce face!” 

“Woahhh calm down man, I mean it issssss true she follows you around the most” Sero says in a muffled voice, continuing to stuff his face with sushi. 

“Tch, cause of her damn programming” Bakugo reminds them, scanning the cafeteria for any sign of her.

“Oh yeah, she follows him around because he causes the most trouble. But I don’t think that’s the only reason. She seems to like you!” 

The blondes eyes finally spot her near the lunchline, food tray in hand, a blank expression on her face. 

Some guys from another class are surrounding her with curious gazes as they exchange words.

The distance is far too great for his ears to overhear what they’re asking her. 

His stare is completely focused on the people standing closest to the girl. 

“She seems more human now, she even started smiling recently!” 

Bakugo wasn’t paying attention to whatever these idiots were saying. His thoughts shift, thinking about why those extras are acting so friendly with you. 

He can’t blame them honestly. 

A half human-robot would spark his interest as well. 

But it's the way they are eyeing her, causing his fingers to fidget with the chopsticks in his hand, a foreign feeling taking over his whole body. 

“Yeah but mainly with Bakugo!” Kaminari snickers and looks at the blonde, expecting a reaction but is met with nothing. 

Everyone at the table grows silent and their gazes land on the blonde who's seemingly lost in thought. His brows are furrowed and his fingers now gripping the edge of the table to release some tension. 

“Bakubro? You okay man?” 

“Kaminari look what you did!” 

“Ah my bad! Sorry dude-”

In a matter of seconds, Bakugo abruptly jumps up from his seat and starts walking away without another word.

As he was observing the extras, the sight of them beginning to touch her, made him move.

The bakusquad goes into full panic mode, assuming the worst, “Where is he going?!” 

Bakugo couldn’t believe the nerve of these assholes. Touching her as if she was an object. 

It only frustrated him more that they’re taking advantage of her clueless nature. She was just standing there, responding to whatever they were saying, as they continued patting her head. 

He makes it to the group in no time, shoving people away with ease, “Move it extras.” 

The guys are quick to back away from him, giving the man a clear path. Shrinking from the presence of the strong third year, who is notorious for his anger and strength. 

“C’mon idiot, what are you doing?” he reaches her side, giving a stern look while crossing his arms.

She looks up at him as he does, her once blank expression shifting ever so slightly to soften. Some rare human emotions on display just for him, “I was getting lunch.”

He has to avert his gaze for a moment. Attempting to avoid a facial reaction to develop in response to her innocent image, “yeah I know that stupid. I’m asking why you’re wasting your time talking to these extras.”

“They were curious regarding my robotic arms-” 

“Psh damn first years, of course they are. Everyone always is” he mumbles, pure annoyance seeping through his words. 

He takes her lunch tray in his left hand and starts walking back to their table. Glaring along the way at the guys that are roaming around, who are now rushing back to their individual tables from fear.

She follows in his steps without hesitation or asking any questions. As they make it back and sit, Kaminari whistles teasingly, “went to go rescue your girl huh-” 

“Shut it moron!” Bakugos glare intensifies if that's even possible, making Kaminari shut up immediately. Sero and Kirishima simply snicker at the sudden tension between the two. 

“Am I your girl?” She asks while looking at Bakugo with a plain expression. 

It was silent for a moment when she asked that.

Then laughter filled the void of silence, cackles heard all around the table, never finding a dull moment with Y/Ns denseness. 

Everyone was laughing except him. 

“W-What?! No you idiot! Dunce face was just being sarcastic” Bakugo grumbles, his gaze landing on her face. A hint of shyness creeping up on his voice. 

“Oh,” she simply replies and goes back to eating her meal.

“Stupid robot” he mutters, now annoyed towards the lack of reaction. He starts eating his meal with large spoonfuls, tuning out whatever the idiots we’re talking about as they ate.

Reminiscing about all the small moments since she got here.

(∩˃o˂∩) flashbackᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

a/n : the following are all flashbacks at random moments throughout the year in order :) 

“Bakugo Katsuki, Explosion Quirk, Blonde Hair-”

His piercing red eyes drift to the side of his desk, staring the new face down as she practically does a character analysis on him. A scowl immediately took over his once calm expression, “Hah? Back off little robot!”

“I am Model #8307. My name is not little robot” she says with a neutral look, taking in new information regarding his voice and vocabulary choices. 

“Tch, you telling me those scientists or whatever, didn’t even give you a damn name?” 

“I am Model #8307.”

“You have some shitty creators then, what type of assholes call you by your creation number” he scoffs clearly not fond of that decision. 

“Aw bakubro! Are you perhaps feeling bad in her defense?” Kirishima chimes in with a toothy grin.

“Psh as if! I'm just pointing out the obvious. What the hell am I supposed to call her? Her damn serial number?” he says, rolling his eyes with disdain. 

“Hm, maybe we can give her a name! Oh I bet I have some ideas in my notes-” Deku mumbles under his breath, already flipping pages for ideas. 

Bakugo groans and looks at him with a glare, “you’re mumbling again nerd!” 

Despite his complaints, the entire class started shouting out potential names for the new classmate. As they all gather around to chat away, the robot seems to stick close to Bakugo, and he seems to notice.

“Got something to say?” he crosses his arms, giving her a calculating once over. 

“My programming states I must keep an eye on you the most” she says now stepping closer to him. 

“I don’t need a damn babysitter” his jaw begins to clench at her words. Annoyance taking over as she scoots closer. 

Some laughter is heard across the classroom and Deku smiles, “Kacchan looks like you’ll be spending the most time with her, so how about you name her!” 

“This is fucking dumb.”

“Aw c'mon bakubro! She needs a name, and you seem to be her favorite!” Kirishima grins in his direction. 

He stays silent as he processes both the idiots' words seemingly in thought. His red eyes were studying the robot and then all of a sudden he sighs out, “Y/N.”

A collection of ‘Ooos’ were heard around the classroom at his suggestion. 

“What a manly name! Where did you think of that Bakugo?” Kirishima tilts his head with curiosity. 

“Oh I remember! That name was from a children's picture book when we were younger, right Kacchan? The main character was a robot in that as well, it makes sense-” 

“Mumbling,” Bakugo reminds him with a frown and a warning look. 

“Oops sorry kacchan!” Deku quickly covers his mouth and awkwardly smiles. 

“Alrighty then! You hear that? Your name is Y/N from now on” Kirishima says to her while patting the robot's head.

“Are you my new master then?” Y/N asks Bakugo out of nowhere, given he’s the one who named her.

“Kinky~” Kaminari snorts out loud and begins running away as Bakugo lunges at him. 

“Dunce face shut the hell up! And fuck no, you damn robot!”

–⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆–

His red eyes roam through the scantron for any mistakes he could’ve made on the exam. 

Once fully satisfied with his answers, he places his pencil down. Moving the booklet towards the corner of his desk. 

He is about to rest his head down til he hears a voice beside him, “you got one wrong.”

Bakugo almost jumps at the low whisper, his head snapping at his side to find Y/N analyzing his scantron. 

Since she was in charge of protecting the class, she didn’t have to partake in exams or classwork. Her knowledge as an android practically made her a perfect scholar. 

“The hell are you doing?!” he whispers back and looks at the front of the classroom. Taking a sigh of relief to see Erasure Head distracted in his sleeping bag. 

“I am here to help you” she states while pointing at question 13 and repeating her words, insisting to recheck his answer.

“You can’t just waltz around to help! This is a test!” 

“But my mission is to help the students of Class 3A-”

“Ugh it's like I'm talking to damn icy-hot, now scram before Mr.Aizawa thinks I'm cheating!” he waves her off with a scowl.

Bakugo could only facepalm when Kaminari secretly calls Y/N over. Taking the opportunity to cheat as she gives him the answers so casually. 

“What an idiot” he grimaces, looking away to stare at his own exam.

His eyes stay lingering onto the booklet, flipping through the pages to look at question 13. After a moment, he mumbles curses under his breath and looks back to see if Y/N is around. 

Who's practically giving Kaminari all the answers per request.

The grumpy blonde quickly looks back at his own paper, grabbing the erasure, and changing his answer. Once completed he rests his head on the desk and huffs, “dumb robot as if I needed help….”

–⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆–

Bakugo freezes in complete disbelief. Did she just-

“Oi! What the hell are you doing?!” he yells out, trying to pry her hands away but to no use. As if he could best her metal arms in strength at the moment. 

“Todoroki says this is effective to make people more comfortable around you” she states, keeping her arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Clearly an attempt to give him a back hug. 

“He’s the last person you should be getting help from! Now get off me!” 

Everyone that's around the common room collectively laughs at the odd sight. No one could remember a time when anyone had dared to hug Bakugo like that. 

“Keep him still Y/N!” “Everyone attack!” “Y/N is so manly!” “Get him!” 

“Don't even think about it you idiots!” Bakugo screams out with annoyance and hidden embarrassment. Soon enough, everyone starts joining in on the group hug. He groans and puts his frustration somewhere else, tugging on poor Dekus hair, “all of you are dead when I get free!” 

“Agh- kacchan!!”

–⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆–

No umbrella.

His eyebrow twitches with frustration at the sight of rain. Oh how much he hates rain. 

“We can share my umbrella” Y/N says, approaching out of nowhere.

His eyes meet hers with a grumpy look, “You always show up at the weirdest moments you know that?” 

“I am here to-”

“Here to help. Yeah yeah I know, just hurry it up would ya?”

She takes a step outside and opens her umbrella, holding it up so she can reach his height. After a moment, he sighs and takes it from her as they walk together.

It's a calm silence as they head to the dorms.

Y/N's gaze roams around campus, noticing many pairs clinging to one another under their umbrellas. 

So with the new information, she wraps her arm around his bicep.

He tenses at the sudden contact and looks at her direction, “tch what now?” 

Usually he would shove her away but with the rain, he held back. Plus he finds himself growing accustomed to her shenanigans. 

“I am holding your bicep.” 

“You- I know that! But why?” 

“Everyone seems to be doing so.”

His eyebrows furrow and he looks around, spotting nothing but cheesy couples being clingy under their umbrellas.

“Because they are couples you dork, and we aren’t so let go.” 

“Does this mean we just became a couple?” she says, squeezing his bicep for clarity. 

His heart beat increases and he coughs, now looking away with pink ears, “What?! No! It doesn't work like that!”

“Then how do you become one?”

“Agh- ask someone else, stupid!” 

Bakugo shoves the umbrella back in her hand and makes a run for it instead. Rushing back to the dorms in the rain, pink ears and all. What is this feeling?  

(∩˃o˂∩) back to presentᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He is soon brought back to reality when he hears an unfamiliar voice. His head looked to the side to see some guy talking to Y/N, who seemed to approach as he was distracted, “so what do you say we go on a date hm?”

Bakugos eyes slightly widened at the bold words, his mouth opened to cuss the guy out but she was faster. 

“I decline your offer.”

The extra frowns and tilts his head, “you got a boyfriend or something?”

“Yes I do,” she replies with a polite nod. 

Everyone at the table looks shocked by her response, not expecting such a reply from her. The extra leaves a few moments later, seeming to understand at least. 

“Wow Y/N.. didn’t know you had the guts to lie to someone” Kirishima gives her a proud thumbs up.

“Lie? But I didn’t lie” she says, continuing to calmly eat her lunch.

The guys gasp at her words, not able to believe it. Bakugo freezes in his spot looking at her in disbelief. His heart thumps in his chest as shock fills his body.

“You actually have a boyfriend?! Who?!” Kaminari yells out, curiosity taking over.

“Bakugo of course” she mutters, sipping away at her juice box.

The guys all stare in shock and their eyes dart back and forth between the two. Bakugo almost chokes on air at her response. The fuck? 

Laughter is heard around the table, all used to Y/N's dense nature, it seems she still has some learning to do. 

“Did I say something funny?” she looks around as they all wheeze at her words. Her eyes drift back at Bakugo as she tilts her head. 

He can still hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He sighs loudly and shakes his head, “Ignore the idiots and continue eating.”

Y/N nods at his words and goes back to continuing her meal, as does he.

The trio immediately stopped laughing and looked stunned for a moment. Bakugo didn’t react to her words nor corrected her this time. 

Could he…

Almost as if he could read their minds, the blonde sends a glare their way, making them all go back to eating. 

This time, correcting her didn’t even cross his mind. He can see out of the corner of his eyes, the way she scoots closer to him.

But he doesn't say anything this time. 

He knows she's staring at the couple at the other table, observing their actions and taking in the information. She is always so observant.

Out of curiosity, his eyes wander across to the couple, noticing the guy sharing his food.

Bakugo can already feel Y/N's eyes on him. And frankly, it almost makes him want to laugh. 

Silently, he takes a sushi roll off his plate and places it on her tray. Copying the other guy's actions. It’s stupid as hell, but she seems to like it. 

With that action alone, he can see a small rare smile forming on her face as she eats.

Teach her emotions huh? Fine. He can do that. 

As the lunch period went on, he didn’t eat much.

Choosing to share his food with her instead.

But he oddly didn’t feel hungry this time, feeling full off that rare smile she had on her face.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

[blorbocedes]

I saw (I think) jenson say that max is the most naturally talented driver he's ever driven with(through Sophie and jos), do you think max is more natural talent or grueling training he went through as a kid? Very nature vs nurture question lol

as an anthropologist they'd take my degree away if I say nature. so let me break it down. of course max is once in a generation talent, but what does that mean? he didn't come out of the womb knowing how to drive a car. it's not encoded in his dna, simply bc his parents were in the same occupation. hamilton's parents weren't racers. that veers into biological essentialism, when what it really is - having both racing parents is max was exposed to that environment from a much younger age and had 2 adult who could guide him into racing with different styles. max is not a biological freak of nature like michael phelp's wingspan/lung capacity. driving was something that was learned and perfected upon. you need money to get into karting, yes, but also skill. there's so promising talents that never made it. this ofc is not an endorsement of jos' parenting styles; max is the rare success story where other kids in that position would and have burned out. but my point in talent needs to be honed with perseverance, endurance, hard work, and yes luck too. max is someone who lives and breathes racing, when he has his free time he's fucking sim racing. brasil was a culmination of his talents on show, yes, but early in the season before the mcl even truly showed its pace max clocked lando as his challenger and since then he has been driving the championship to mitigate losing it. that's not just talent, that's brains at work too -- like the risk assessment that a lando at p2 is worth whatever penalty he may get for driving him off, because he believed he was fast enough to come back into points. the point I'm making re: gruelling childhood training is that it's not like max ever stopped working on his racecraft. even when he was winning every race in 23, he said he wanted to improve on previous races, win with larger margins, he was his own competitor. the max of today is a better driver than the max of 2016 as a result of that

I don't disagree with jenson's assessment, max certainly has "it" and it's something you either have or you don't. but the term natural talent also soothes their ego losing to max, ahhhh I couldn't have competed with what Nature gifted him. it downplays the mountain of work that's behind honing that natural talent into actionable skill.

[wrizard]

wrizard's super basic guide to y-chromosome-based identification!!

for those interested, on this fitzcovery day:

a dear friend asked me to explain why i felt completely insane about the phrase "genetic distance of one" and, as usual, i got overexcited and wrote an entire thing about it complete with goofy images! it's on twt HERE, but i figured it would also be nice to pop it up here also. SO. with the caveat that it has been many years since my last bio class and this is VERY OVERSIMPLIFIED. here's

Human DNA is grouped into chromosomes. We generally have TWO of each chromosome: 22 pairs (numbered 1-22), plus one pair of sex chromosome (typically either two X-chromosomes (XX), or one X-chromosome and one Y-chromosome (XY)). That's 23 pairs, or 46 chromosomes, in total.

When producing sex cells, matching chromosome pairs will RECOMBINE (swap bits of information) - eg. one Chromosome 4 will remix itself with the other Chromosome 4, making TWO UNIQUE C4s. When the cell splits into two sex cells, each sex cell will carry ONE unique C4.

That's sexual reproduction! Every new offspring is genetically unique - new combinations of traits pop up quickly, and if they improve reproductive fitness, can be passed on to future offspring. This allows for rapid adaptation and changes in a species over time.

But what about Y-chromosomes, which don’t have pairs? They can't recombine in the way paired chromosomes can - which means Y-chromosomes pretty much only change via mutation (errors in copying DNA). Mutation is VERY slow, especially compared to recombination.

This means that when an XY parent passes down their Y-chromosome to a child, chances are high that chromosome will have few, if any, changes – as opposed to X-chromosomes, which recombine in both XX parents and children, shuffling genetic information all over the place.

Due to this slow rate of change, Y-chromosomes can be more easily tracked through the generations than other human chromosomes. A Y-chromosome might be passed down nearly unchanged for hundreds of years from genetic father to genetic son.

GENETIC DISTANCE refers to the measurement of difference between two sets of DNA. The lower the genetic distance, the more closely related the two samples are likely to be. A genetic distance of 1 means the samples are close to identical.

Because we know how slowly Y-chromosomes change over time, we know that if the Y-chromosomes of two people have a low genetic distance, this implies that those people are paternally related – even if the two people live/lived hundreds of years apart.

In the case of Captain James Fitzjames, genetic data was extracted from a set of unidentified remains (a molar from a disarticulated mandible). 17 genetic markers from the molar’s Y-chromosome were compared to the Y-chromosome of a confirmed paternal relative of the Captain.

Those 17 markers were the same in both samples, giving the two Y-chromosomes a genetic distance of one – meaning, with the genetic information available, the living relative and the unidentified decedent are more than 2000 TIMES more likely to be paternally related than not.

EDIT: DOIP I MISREAD THE CHART 16 of 17 match, not all 17!!

Along with all the information we have from the historical record, the context of the remains, and this new comparative genetic analysis, we can safely conclude that this particular set of remains belong to Captain Fitzjames.

160 years isn't long in the grand scheme. Every identified set of remains is another reminder that these were people, not just a distant curiosity. It's humbling to remember not just that we have identified Cpt. Fitzjames, but that still, today, we have a genetic distance of one.

Photos and Y-chromosome comparison chart taken from Stephen, Fratpietro, and Park's paper "Identification of a senior officer from Sir John Franklin’s Northwest Passage expedition" from the Journal of Archaeological Science: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2352409X24003766?via%3Dihub

hope my nonsense is helpful and/or informative and/or at least made you smile!! if you like this sort of thing :) cheers doves

[kedreeva]

(please excuse the horrible pics, i couldn’t get any closer)

today i ran into these two pretty lads now living at the local sheep and donkey farm thing!

since it seems they just got there i hope they will be getting a bigger/better home and some ladies soon (otherwise just say a word and i will smuggle them across the atlantic to you ;) )

Ooo! Thank you for sharing them! These are higher Spalding (hybrid) birds, and unless you saw a train on the second one (I can't see one in the pics), it looks like this is a pair! In the green species of peafowl, the hens look almost identical to the males, except they don't have a train. When hybrids get enough green DNA, or certain green DNA at least, the hens start to color up and can very easily be mistaken for males.

However! If you look at the bird on the let in the second photo- she has gold lacing down her front/chest (indicative of blue hens), and remains green necked instead of that blue-green you see on the male. If you DID see a train on the second one, then we shall hope they don't get any ladies; the boys can get along in a big enclosure provided there are no ladies to fight to the death over.

I hope that they aren't going to be used for public viewing, as high spaldings tend to take after their green ancestors and are easily stressed by humans in proximity to them. It's probably best you couldn't get any closer!