#protein folding explained

[agirlcandream84]

Boyfriend!Frank is NOT Pleased With Your Choice to Diet.

Girlies -- just read and be healed. Trust me.

Boyfriend!Frank x Reader

Word Count: 1,370

“Eat,” he says, sliding the burger and fries in front of you on the table.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna, like, scold me about it?” you ask.

“That’s it. Eat,” he replies and slides into the booth across from you.

And so you did, glancing at him tentatively every few minutes, the meal quietly tense. But you'll be damned if he wasn't right. The burger coated your ribs, it's protein-packed patty satisfying you so thoroughly that your headache instantly dissipated and your blood sugar evened out. With every bite you feel your energy restored, your stomach nearly like a bottomless pit.

Near bursting, you push the plate a fews inches away from you and lean back, taking a final sip of your icy Coke. Frank has been done for a few minutes, always just inhaling food quickly and quietly, and has his arms folded across his chest, his huge form smashed into a tiny booth, as he observes you.

You meet his eyes and will yourself not to look away from his glare.

"Don't" you say to him. He shrugs his hulky shoulders, his lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes still locked to yours.

"Because you don't know how it is. I'm trying my best, ok?" you add, now growing more alarmed at his silence than his presumed scolding. His face remains unreadable, the tendons in his forearms flexing as he repositions himself in the booth slightly.

"And by the way its not that serious. Trust me, I eat plenty. That's sorta the whole problem" you continue, almost willing his angry rant to just come already. His eye contact is unflinching, even as a fork clatters to the ground from a nearby table.

"It's not like it was on purpose. I just didn't plan right." you explain, your mouth just yammering in the silence. Your fingers fiddle with the napkin as you roll it into a tight coil. At his silence, you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

And it's true. You didn't plan to wait too long too eat and give yourself a pounding headache. You didn't plan to wait 7 hours between two hard boiled eggs and your next meal. You didn't plan to nearly pass out at the store.

But the other part, the part Frank is actually mad about, you did plan. You did plan your incredibly calorie-restrictive diet-- the one that's barely enough food for a toddler. You did plan to basically starve yourself for about 4 weeks to fit into the dress you bought for that wedding. You did plan to hate your fucking body so much that you were willing to neglect it and starve in the name of being smaller. Existing less.

And so when you attempted to order a side salad for a whole-ass meal, after very nearly passing out at the store alongside Frank, after not eating more than 2 eggs in 7 hours, after being nearly in tears from the headache tearing through your skull, after complaining the Advil you took on an empty stomach was making you nauseous, Frank was... displeased.

He'd immediately grumbled a "Nah, fuck that, no fucking salads" and you'd looked at him with your mouth agape, beginning to interject but he'd stopped you with "Non-negotiable. Go sit in the fucking booth sweetheart and you'll eat what I order you." You blinked incredulously before grabbing your purse and storming to the booth, sliding in with a huff.

One cheeseburger and a large fries later and you assumed you were in for it. You prepared yourself for the Frank ranting that didn't come.

"You done?" he asks plainly, his face unimpressed with your excuses.

"Yeah I'm done," you reply petulantly, feeling like a teenager having a tantrum.

Frank stuffs his keys in his pocket and grabs the greasy bag to toss in the trash. You scramble out of the booth to follow him back to the car, Frank holding the door open for you to exit and opening your car door while you climbed in. The ride home mimics the meal, tense silence as Frank stares ahead with squinted eyes.

As you arrive home, Frank puts the car in park and you waste no time hopping out the passenger door and towards the apartment complex, eager to slither out of the awkward silence. Despite the tension, Frank is still a gentleman, reaching for the grocery bags you were attempting to haul from the trunk, murmuring "I got it sweetheart," and sending you into the building.

Shortly after Frank places the bags on the counter, you reach to begin unloading the groceries but Frank's hand lands on yours, stopping you before he laces one hand around your waist and the other cupping your jaw, his wrist shifting slightly to tilt your face up towards his before he envelops you in a kiss so tender that you nearly lose your breath. He's slow, deliberate-- his lips grazing yours before you feel the firm press of him as his tongue twines around yours. You allow yourself to melt into his hold, his fingers traveling into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When he stops, you steady your breathing, his face still inches from yours, and ask, "Frank, what are you doing?" You didn't object to his affection but his tenderness was unexpected.

"Apologizing," he responds, his hand still cradling your head.

"Apologizing?" you stutter out, an apology the last thing you expected.

"Yeah. Apologizing," he confirms, brushing his thumb along your jaw. "Way I see it, if I ever gave you the impression that I didn't love your body exactly the way it is, that's on me," he adds.

"Frank it's not--" you start but he interrupts with "Lemme finish sweetheart. I'm not doing my job if you don't feel fuckin' gorgeous every day. Fuck sweetheart, I think about you all damn day. I dream about you and you're layin' right next to me for God's sake. And if you don't know that, I fucked up," he adds, his sincerity enough to nearly break your heart. You feel his hand squeeze your waist.

"Frank, its... you're not," you start, stumbling over your words, the topic so complicated and loaded. You take a deep breath and start again, "The way I feel about my body is the sum of years and years of feeling inadequate and social pressure and unkind words from people who were supposed to love me. You have healed me in so many ways Frank. But this wound is deep. Sometimes it reopens."

"S'my job to take care of you though sweetheart" Frank replies, ever the protector. He could take fix anything, he was certain, at least that's what he told himself. Surely he could fix this. He would just love you harder and louder.

"Frankie you do," you reassure him, standing on tip toes to kiss him again. He reciprocates, again tugging you closer and kissing you in a way that felt like he was trying to heal you. When he pulls away again, his brows have returned to their natural furrow and you know he's got something else on his mind.

"Ok out with it," you prompt him, still locked in his arms and trapped between him and the counter.

"Yeah, the other thing is sweetheart, I don't like when someone treats my girl bad. Even when you're doin' it to yourself," he states plainly, the scolding you expected finally coming to fruition.

"I told you, I wasn't try--"

"Nah, nah. I don't want the excuses doll. You're starvin' yourself," he retorts. You can't quite manage to look him in eye at the accusation. He isn't entirely wrong. In fact he's entirely right. That was sorta the whole idea.

"Yeah, so you gotta cut that shit out. You deserve to eat food when you're hungry. Don't make ask it again and you sure as hell better make sure I don't catch ya' doing it," he adds, his word on the topic final. You nod, feeling near instant relief at the thought of not dieting. You had been miserable for weeks.

"Unfortunately, you gotta learn a lesson though honey," he says with a smack to your ass as he hoists you over his shoulder and stomps to the bedroom.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff

[tvgals]

RENT A HIMBO !!

synopsis: reader had a pretty gnarly breakup. good thing her good friend hired a himbo for her troubles.

a/n: i couldn’t add the taglist bc it exceeded 50 people

cw; himbo! choso, black! fem! reader, fingering, oral (f) receiving, missionary, ooc gojo, fucking against the wall, this is based off an audio i found the other day.

you sat on the couch bundled up in an array of blankets. you’d just broken up with your boyfriend, gojo satoru. it was one of the longest relationships you’d had in a while, and it all came crashing down. all because his enormous ego came before you two’s relationship.

you heard three knocks adorn your door and you scrunch your face up, you weren’t expecting any visitors. you stood up, taking a single blanket onto your back and walking to the door. you open it just a smidge to see a tall burly man with a black compression shirt on and sweatpants.

“can i help you?” you ask, looking him up and down. he had a black line on his chiseled face along with two ponytails in his head. “yeah! uhm is this apartment 97G?” the man asks. you open your door a bit more, still confused. “yeah, why?” you question. “awesome. i was looking for apartment L6G for the longest time! until i realized it was just upside down.” he smiles. “oh! you’re wondering why i’m here.” he face palms. he grabs a paper out the pocket of his sweats and starts reading off of it.

“th-thank you for choosing ‘rent-a-himbo’, you’ve been gifted 24 ho- horse…hours! 24 hours with me! choso.” the man, now known as choso, grins. “this purchase was made by your good friend…shoko. my hobbies include..baking…drinking p-protein shakes, and going to the gym.” he looks at you and folds the paper back up and puts it in his pocket. your face falters at the reading of the paper, why would shoko do that?! “okay…” you mumble, about to close the door. before you can, choso sticks his foot in the door. “hey, could you maybe let me in? this is my only uniform and i’d hate to get it drenched in sweat.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. you groan and open the door. choso walks in a sweet grin on his face. “thanks!” choso thanks you, taking his shirt off.

“woah woah, what are you doing?” you ask, moving back to the couch. “i told you, it’s my only uniform.” choso explains himself, neatly folding the shirt and putting it on your glass table you had in front of your couch. you watched as choso’s muscles flexing involuntarily as he walked around your home. “so, do you need me to do anything?” choso asks from the bathroom. “nope.” you say, snuggling up against the biggest pillow on the couch. choso walks into the room and sits across from you. “well then, let’s just talk.” he grins.

“wanna tell me about that breakup? i’m a great listener! i finished an entire podcast in one day!” choso beamed. you grin to yourself. “you totally don’t have to if you don’t wanna.” he says, his hands in his pockets. “well…” you started. “he was a really sweet guy. but his attitude and personality were just unbearable.” you rolled your eyes thinking about it. “and he never went down on me or anything. he only cared about himself.” you say. all the times gojo belittled the way you did things, or how you handled stuff was just…annoying. “but the sex was always good, even though i never really got to cum.” you mumble the last part, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by choso. “really?! he never made you cum?” choso asks, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.

“we gotta fix that, pretty lady.” choso says, pulling your hand so you crash softly into his body. you whine a bit, grinding yourself onto his beefy thigh. “just remember, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” choso says, pushing you onto your back and shimmying your shorts off of you. “i want this…” you whine once again. “good good..” choso grins. he takes a deep breath before he hooks his arms under your legs and starts eating you out like he’s been starving.

“fuck!” you groan out, arching your back. choso moaned into your cunt, making out with it sloppily. “please…” you whine out, shoving his face deeper into your pretty cunt. “mhm…” choso hummed, rutting his hips into your crème colored couch, his sensitive cock making it all the more pleasurable. “chosoooo! m’gna cum!” you practically scream. choso looks up at you and smiles,

“let go for me, pretty girl.” and you do exactly that, screaming and cumming all over his face. “there we go..” choso mumbles, rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. he stands on his knees, hovering above you with a shit eating grin on his face. “hope you know i didn’t come here just to eat you out.” choso says, taking his sweatpants off. “i can tell..” you giggle to yourself. choso lines himself up with your hole, slowly pushing in. choso was big almost eight inches. you don’t think he knew he was big, though. due to him putting half his body weight onto you and pushing inside even harder. you scream out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, never having someone fully indulge into you like this.

“shh, shhh…” choso soothes you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. once choso bottoms out in your wet pussy, he starts going harder. he’s moaning and groaning profanities in your ear which he follows up with sorry‘s everytime. choso lifts his head up and looks at your face, glistening with sweat and a dopey grin on your face that spills out your beautiful moans. “you’re so beautiful…he didn’t see the beauty in you…” choso mumbled, almost to himself as if you weren’t even there.

you arched you back and start scratching at choso’s. “‘m cumming!” you moaned. choso smiled and kept his pace, watching as you came all over his dick. he groaned at the sight, getting close himself. “where do you want it?” choso asks, looking up at you. “inside…just do it inside.” you moan out. choso nods at your answer, thrusting into you a few more times before cumming inside your pussy with a groan. choso let you catch you breath for a moment before picking you up by hooking his arms underneath your legs, pining you against the wall. “you’re gonna drop me!” you exclaim, holding onto choso’s biceps with your life. “i don’t have all this muscle for no reason.” choso smirks, thrusting up into you. your head fell back in pleasure, choso’s dick hitting the tight spots in this position.

“right there?” choso asks, pressing kisses to your tits. you nod dumbly, drool threatening to spill out your mouth. “righ’ thereeee!” you whine, clawing at choso’s biceps and chest. “i know, baby, i know…” choso sympathizes with you. “‘m gonna cum again!” you cry out. “do it for me, baby..” choso says, pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. you cum one last time, choso falling not too far behind you with a low groan. “thank you..” choso smiles, laying down on the couch with you on top. “thank you, choso. that was amazing.

choso’s face dusted with a pink hue as he smiled down at you. “it’s nothing for a pretty girl like you.” choso says, eubbing his hand along your back. choso grabs a discarded blanket from off the floor and he throws it over the both of you. “might just have to give you a buy one get one free coupon.” choso winks. you giggle, slapping his chest playfully.

maybe this rent a himbo thing wasn’t too bad.

#myatalks🫡 #blkshoyo #black reader #im black #i love being black #ilovemyfollowers #ilysm <3 #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x female reader #jjk fics #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso smut #jjk choso #anime #anime x black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x you #anime x reader

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, violence, m masturbation, smut

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

Back in your apartment, the two of you set to work quietly organizing everything spread out on the living room floor that you could think of to pack. The biggest section was food. Luckily you were still used to a dorm room diet, so you had tons of useful items to take on the go. You had focused on the cans with protein like tuna, chicken and beans, then moved on to granola and protein bars, nuts, dried fruit, ramen noodles, cereal, instant rice and easy mac. Joel packed each of you a flashlight with extra batteries, and handfuls of matches and lighters he had found rummaging through your floor. Justin's camping equipment came with a canteen, plate, bowl, and foldable silverware for each, and a small first aid kit, which Joel significantly bolstered after raiding all the bathrooms on the floor.

He told you to only pack one or two extra sets of clothes, that you would have to break into houses or stores along the way if you needed more. He didn't want to waste the space in your packs that could be used for food and medicine.

You both set to work filling your bags with as much stuff as you could. Joel slipped a map into his pack that he had picked up from a kitchen drawer down the hall, and you had snuck in an unopened box of tampons and a folded up picture of your parents in yours when he wasn't looking.

It was around midday when you were all set to go, making sure to eat something left behind in your cupboards one last time.

You closed the door behind you, but you didn't lock it in case someone came along and needed something. Then sadly, you turned and gripped your baseball bat, following Joel down the long hallway, down the stairs and to the lobby.

Before Joel pushed the lobby door open to the outside, he turned to you.

"Which way's the subway?"

You pointed down the street to the right.

"It's about 3 blocks that way, not far. It's mostly all apartment buildings and a few stores on the corners."

Joel nodded, cracking the door open to listen for any sign of trouble. It sounded clear, so he ventured out to confirm before pulling you out behind him.

"We gotta be quick, but not too quick. Don't want to accidentally sneak up on somethin' out here," Joel explained in a hushed tone. "If you hear anythin', stop and don't make a sound. And you tell me if you see anythin' at all, understand?" You walked closely next to him as he was speaking, the whole time looking all around you frantically, your senses in overdrive, and your heart hammering in your chest. All you did was nod, not wanting to risk making too much noise.

The streets were quiet. Joel peeked around the corner and made sure no soldiers or infected were nearby before ushering you across the open street and back behind the safety of a building. One block down.

The two of you trotted down the sidewalk, swiveling your head around every few feet to see if there was anyone behind you. You almost made it to the next corner when Joel swung out his arm to stop you. You held your breath, heart racing as you focused on the noise he heard. It was the slow rumbling of an engine that reminded you of the FEDRA truck you heard patrolling outside your apartment last night. Joel must have figured that out, too, because he grabbed your arm and pulled you over to hide behind a dumpster that was sticking out of a narrow alley. You both crouched down and waited for the truck to pass. Fortunately, it didn't turn down the street you were on, where you would have been exposed.

Once the noise faded, Joel stood up slowly before motioning for you to follow. Again, he poked his head around the corner and took extra time to make sure no one was around before dragging you across the street once more. One more block to go.

You were halfway down the block as you passed a pawn shop, windows smashed in and the place ransacked. You grabbed Joel's arm and his head whipped around in a panic. You shook your head to tell him nothing was wrong and pointed into the pawn shop.

"Weapons?" you mouthed.

He hesitated a moment, trying to decide if you should press on or see if there was something useful in there before ultimately deciding to check it out. If the subway had infected in it, it would be better if there was more than just one knife between you. Joel stepped through the broken glass door carefully, glancing around at the small shop before holding his hand out to guide you through the opening. You both took a quick look around, noticing anything valuable was long gone, and most of the knives were picked over, but you did find a decent sized switchblade for yourself. You tucked it into your jeans pocket, and you carried on down the street towards the subway entrance.

You had a long way to go down the dark tunnel, but so far it had been quiet and uneventful. Your flashlight beams bounced off the brick walls as you walked in silence, trying to stay focused on your surroundings. Your anxiety spiked with every new subway station you passed, reminding you of just how much deeper into the city you were getting. From what the soldiers had said, more densely populated areas were worse off, and so far in your limited experience that had proven to be true.

You were two stations away from the one you stopped at for work when you first saw people. It was just two families, huddled together on the platform. They had seen your flashlights long before you saw them, so trying to sneak by was useless. They seemed like they were just innocent survivors, so Joel kept walking, holding his head up. He made eye contact with two of the men in the group and gave them each a firm nod, hoping to convey you were just passing through and not looking for trouble. They nodded back wordlessly, and you carried on your way.

The next station had more people who had sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, and lanterns. It looked like they were trying to wait it out underground long-term. A few of the men approached the end of the platform to address Joel.

"You soldiers?" one of them asked.

"No, just passin' through, tryin' to stay off the streets, sorry to disturb you all," Joel replied. He paused for a moment, and looked back at the men who were still watching you carefully. "Any of you see any infected down here?"

One of the men shook his head. "Nah, man, that's why we're sitting tight down here. Soldiers must be keeping them busy up top."

Joel nodded. "Thanks... good luck to you."

Finally, you approached your stop for work and found the platform to be filled with people, just like the previous one. They were kind and immediately helped you both up off the tracks. You introduced yourselves and explained you were headed to Joel's apartment not too far from there. One of the women, Josie, warned you the closer you got to the heart of the city, the worse it was.

"We heard, thank you. Once we get up top it won't be a long walk," you said, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead to clear the sweat collecting there. "We've been walking for hours. Joel?" You turned to him, interrupting a conversation he was having with Josie's husband, Peter. "Can we rest here for a bit?" Joel turned back to Peter.

"That ok with you folks?" he asked. Peter and Josie nodded, seemingly the leaders of the small group of strangers huddled on the platform.

The two of you slunk down against the tiled wall, pulling out protein bars and your canteens after sitting down. You shut your eyes for a few minutes, leaning the back of your head against the wall, chewing and grateful to be taking a break.

"You holdin' up alright?" Joel asked softly beside you. You nodded, keeping your eyes closed.

"I'm just tired," you replied, taking another bite of your protein bar without looking.

"It ain't much further, once we get on the street it's another few blocks. We should be able to get there before - "

Joel's sentence was cut short by screaming, and your eyes flew open in surprise as you dropped your protein bar and grabbed your bat while fumbling around in your pocket for the switchblade. Joel was already standing, gripping his bat and trying to locate the source of the scream in the group. One of the men, who looked asleep when you arrived, was snarling and had his teeth clamped down into the shoulder of an older man, blood pouring down his arm and soaking both of their shirts. Peter and another man jumped into action to pull the infected off the poor man screaming in agony, struggling to pin it to the ground.

Joel charged forward before you could stop him, your hands desperately clawing at his t-shirt, but he was already throwing himself into the group to help. You watched in horror as the three men struggled to hold it down, and just as Joel was getting ready to bash its skull in with the baseball bat, it lunged forward, knocking Peter and the other man off to the side and pushing Joel onto his back.

Joel held the infected up by its shoulders as it pinned him down, snapping and growling inches from his face. Joel's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes flashed with rage as he summoned all the strength he could manage and pushed it off him, making it stumble backwards. It was just enough time for Joel to reach to his side for his hunting knife and plunged it into the infected’s skull with a guttural yell.

The infected went limp immediately and fell to the floor. Joel stood over the body, tense, covered in blood, and panting heavily with the knife still clutched in his hand. Peter and the other man rushed to join the rest of the group helping the one who was bit in the shoulder, but you raced straight to Joel, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Surprised, he lifted one arm to place it reassuringly on your back, the other still clutching his knife.

You let him go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as you frowned at him angrily. He looked down at you, the adrenaline wearing off, and saw the anguish on your face. He reached his hand out to you, but you slapped it away and instead shoved his chest heatedly, making him stumble just a bit in surprise.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" you seethed, narrowing your eyes at him and fighting to keep the tears from falling. "You could have gotten killed!"

Joel stared at you, still panting slightly, then put the knife back in its holder. He couldn't gauge your reaction. Were you upset he would be killed because then you would be alone, or upset because of something else? He sighed and reached out to you again. This time, you didn't shove him, but you didn't go to him, either.

Josie approached you, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Joel, for saving my husband," she said, clutching his outstretched hand in her own, then turned to you. "Don't be mad at your boyfriend, dear, he just saved us all."

Your mouth fell open, and before you could correct her, she went back to Peter and hugged him tightly. Joel cleared his throat beside you, seemingly pleased with himself.

"You heard her," he winked at you. "Can't stay mad at me." You scowled back at him, and with a more serious tone, he added, "us or them, remember?"

You sighed, relaxing your brow. You knew he was right, but you were still pissed off. You turned on your heel and headed back to your abandoned protein bar, effectively ending the conversation.

Joel joined you and watched as the group deliberated quietly on how to deal with the man who was bit. You had learned he likely only had a few hours before he turned, based on the location of his bite. Ultimately, Peter volunteered, and he quickly and privately put the man out of his misery with a kitchen knife. You winced when you heard the squelch of blood from across the platform, burying your face in your shoulder.

You didn't stay much longer after that. Once Joel had gotten his strength back, you picked up your belongings and gave your farewells. Josie and Peter thanked Joel again, and you headed up to the familiar street corner, dusk fast approaching.

It took you both an hour to walk to Joel's apartment, which normally would have taken ten minutes, but he insisted on going slow and being careful at every turn. When you approached his building, you had to crane your neck all the way back to take in the full height. His building definitely used to have a doorman: it was fancy. You walked into the ornate lobby and turned around in a slow circle, taking in everything from the detailed crown molding to the beautiful, tiled floor that looked more like a piece of art. You almost felt bad for stepping on it. Even the ceiling was vaulted and decorated in tiny, intricate squares with gilded chandeliers hanging from it. Finally, you looked straight ahead and saw an arched window that overlooked a private garden.

"Shit," you whispered, "I almost got an apartment in this building."

Joel turned back to you, surprised, then realized you were being sarcastic when he saw your grin. He smiled to himself and shook his head, leading you down the hallway towards the stairwell door.

"I take it you're not on the second floor?" you asked him quietly as you began to climb the stairs.

"No, little higher than that," he replied. "30th floor."

You stopped dead in your tracks, which made him stop and turn back to you questioningly. He could tell what the problem was when he saw the pained expression on your face without you even having to speak.

"I know, it's gonna take us a while, but we can stop and rest whenever you need to." You sighed and hung your head, continuing your journey up the stairs.

You made it to the halfway point before you had to take a break, sitting on a step, panting and chugging water from your canteen while Joel leaned against the wall across from you, sipping his own water. The sun was going down, so you each dug your flashlights out of your packs before continuing.

"Not much further," Joel panted, turning the corner of another staircase, "then we can rest. No point in diggin' around in the dark, it's been a long day." You nodded, choosing not to speak to conserve your energy, and focused on the flashlight beam ahead of you.

You weren't sure how long it took, but finally you climbed the last step to face the door marked with a big, red "30". That's when you looked up and noticed you were on the top floor. Of course he lives on the top floor.

Joel pushed the door open a crack and peeked down the hall, which was very short and only had two doors and an elevator at the other end. He held the door open for you to walk through, then gently closed it. You frowned, looking back and forth at the two doors, puzzled.

Joel looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight when he saw your confusion, before mumbling, "It's a penthouse," and brushed past you to unlock his door.

You had never seen a penthouse before, but you knew they were for people who were really rich, especially in New York City. He opened the door, locking it behind you. You couldn't really see much other than what your flashlight exposed, but you could tell the room you were standing in was massive. You briefly flicked your light around, taking in some couches, bookcases, a fireplace and some other furniture. You stopped when you noticed the entire wall was top to bottom windows with a balcony attached, and covered your flashlight quickly. Joel kicked off his sneakers, and noticing the dimmer light, turned his flashlight to shine on you questioningly.

"Can't people see in? Like, the lights moving?" you asked. He shook his head.

"Privacy windows," he explained, then turned and headed towards another room. You quickly kicked your own shoes off, skittering after him, sticking close. The place was so huge you were afraid you'd get lost, and the darkness mixed with the eerie silence from lack of power and road noise made the hairs on your arm stand up. As you walked, you shined your flashlight on everything around you, baffled by how far the apartment seemed to stretch. You were so engrossed in your surroundings that you bumped into him when he had stopped walking.

"Oops, sorry," you whispered.

"Why are you whispering? We're safe here," he replied at full volume. You shrugged.

"I don't know, this place is huge, Joel, give me a minute - oh my god, is this your kitchen?!" you exclaimed as your jaw dropped, noticing the kitchen island in front of you that must have seated ten people. On one side. Easily. The island, made of marble or quartz, was white with silver and black specks. You noticed the counter was the same all over the kitchen, even on the built in bar in the corner. The cupboards were a light oak that was soft against your fingertips as you gently trailed them against the wood, wandering around his kitchen in amazement.

Joel watched you as you walked around his kitchen, gently touching the handles of the knives in the block and running your fingers along the countertop. You looked like you had never seen anything like this before, and his chest ached when he wondered what would have happened that night if you agreed to come home with him. You could have seen this place in a whole different light. He could have made you a drink from the bar and played you some music over the sound system. If he was lucky, he could have laid you down on the kitchen island you were so currently fascinated with, your fingers gripping the edges as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear to explore your soaking wet folds, pushing one finger inside you, and then another, slowly teasing you until you begged him for more.

Having you in his place was clouding his mind, he needed to focus. He cleared his throat before heading towards the pantry door. You eagerly followed closely behind and when you realized the pantry was a room as big as your own kitchen, you moaned with envy, causing his eyes to flutter shut momentarily.

"This place is amazing," you told him, sifting through the food on his shelves. You grabbed some peanut butter and crackers, turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"Where's the silverware?" you asked over your shoulder.

"Drawer next to the sink," he replied, and watched as you grabbed a butter knife. He picked up a can of Beefaroni off the shelf and opened the drawer in the kitchen with the can opener after picking a fork out from the silverware drawer you left open in your haste to eat.

He sat across from you at the island, eating his cold Beefaroni out of the can while you slathered crackers with peanut butter and popped them in your mouth. You smirked at his choice of food.

"Chef Boyardee?" you asked curiously, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure your private chef could have made you the real thing from scratch." Joel chuckled.

"Alright, I ain't got a private chef. Besides, this is the real thing. Nothin' beats it."

You smiled, fascinated that a man who lived in such a lavish apartment would have Beefaroni as his guilty pleasure. Feeling full and sleepy, you twisted the top of the peanut butter jar closed, and out of habit ran your tongue along the butter knife to clean it. You didn't even realize how that looked until you heard Joel's breath hitch and he looked down to study the empty can in front of him. Your cheeks felt warm from embarrassment, but luckily, he couldn't see it under the cover of darkness. You cleaned the knife (with a sponge, this time) and Joel's fork, putting them back in the drawer.

"Alright, let's get some shut eye. We should try to get an early start tomorrow, I want to get out of this city as soon as we can," Joel said, grabbing his pack he had set down when you walked in, and headed further down the hallway.

You followed him nervously, looking at the expensive-looking art on the walls and even a few statues on pedestals before reaching his bedroom. He pushed the door open, and your flashlights bounced around the room to illuminate the corners the moonlight hid from view. As expected, his bedroom was spacious with a bathroom and two walk-in closets attached. You noticed one of the closets was void of any clothes, and the other was packed to the brim. You poked your head in his bathroom, sighing enviously when you saw the huge, glass walk-in shower and built in vanity. You turned around to find Joel had dug out a couple lanterns from his closet and placed one on each end table so you could conserve your flashlight batteries. You clicked it off and walked over awkwardly, not sure what the sleeping arrangements should be. Unlike you, he has couches more than big enough to accommodate a grown adult, but the thought of being alone in the living room of this huge apartment made you nervous.

It hadn't even been a question in Joel's mind.

"Hop in and make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," and he left the bedroom, back down the hallway to double check the locks. You rummaged in your pack for some more comfortable clothes to sleep in, and quickly changed before he returned, nestled under the covers on the most comfortable mattress you had ever been on in your life.

When Joel reentered the bedroom, his thoughts didn't even have time to catch up with how fast he felt the blood rushing to his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut as he blindly walked right to his closet and shut the door so he could change into his pajamas, willing his erection away. He groaned quietly, leaning his head against the wall of the closet, frustrated with how distracted he's been. If he doesn't stop, it could get you or him killed. He would have to do something about it before heading out tomorrow. He was lucky so far, you've had relatively safe places to hole up in, but that was going to end.

When he finally got himself under control, he exited the closet and got into the other side of the bed. You already had your lantern off and you were laying on your side with your eyes closed, exhausted from all the walking and events of the day. His bed was much larger than yours, and he hoped the extra space would help him get his mind out of the gutter. He turned his lantern off, and leaned back into the familiar pillow and sheets, closing his eyes. It was silent for a few minutes before you spoke.

"Joel?" you squeaked.

"Hm?" he replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"This is the nicest apartment I've ever seen, how long have you lived here?"

"About six years or so," he said, shifting a little under the covers. "But I like your place more," he admitted.

"My place?!" you said, outraged. "You could fit my entire apartment into this bedroom, you're crazy."

"Yeah, well, your place felt more..." he trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Like a home. This place feels like a museum."

"I'm sure you could make this place feel just as cozy," you yawned before adding, "this bed, for instance, is the most comfortable thing I've ever laid on." Joel smiled.

"Glad you like it." Sweetheart.

He waited until he was sure you were sleeping deeply enough before he locked himself into his bathroom and pulled his sweatpants down just far enough to free his throbbing cock, stroking it steadily with one hand while the other propped him up against the wall, eyes screwed shut. His thoughts picked up where he left off in the kitchen, his fingers deep in your pussy, but then he would add his thumb to your swollen clit, making your back arch off the cold counter and gasp his name. His thumb would pick up the pace, keeping up with your moans, rubbing tight circles and flexing and thrusting his fingers inside of you until your body finally stilled under him, whimpering his name as you came.

He imagined you gazing up at him hazily, the same way you looked at him last week outside the bar, but now you would reach out and grab the waist of his jeans, pulling him closer and whisper hoarsely to him, "Please, Joel, I need you, I need more..."

He imagined what it would feel like to slide inside you, your cunt soft and warm, so welcoming and taking him inch by inch. He would grasp your hips, his feet firmly on the ground and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, one of your hands lost in your own hair and the other firmly holding onto his wrist, eyes rolled towards the back of your head, moaning, as he stretched you out. When he would start moving, he would go slow at first and enjoy the way your tits bounced gently along with his movements. He would do his best to take his time, but he imagined you asking him - begging him - to fuck you harder. Of course, he would give you what you wanted. He would slam into you, over and over, groaning as he would feel your cunt squeezing around him, warning him you were close. His thumb would travel down to your clit once again, pressing firmly from side to side until you were screaming his name and he felt your warm release spill over his cock.

"Fuck!" Joel grunted out into the darkness, as he shot thick ropes of cum over his hand and onto the tile floor, completely losing himself and forgetting to grab a tissue.  He stood there a few minutes, catching his breath, his forehead pressed against the bathroom wall. Finally, he pushed himself away and cleaned up his mess carefully, using his flashlight to make sure he didn't miss anything. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hoped that would help keep him sharp and focused for tomorrow.

He opened the bathroom door quietly, relieved to see you hadn't moved a muscle since he left. You were still sleeping peacefully, facing his side of the bed with your lips slightly parted. He smiled at the sight, setting his flashlight down and about to slide back into bed when he heard a noise coming from down the hall. He froze, listening intently, trying to figure out the source. He glanced down at you once more to confirm you were still asleep and headed quietly out the bedroom door, carefully closing it behind him.

He walked down the hallway, now on high alert, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He walked by a statue, grabbing it and turning it upside down so the square base was upright in his hand. He gripped it tightly as he neared the kitchen, now hearing rustling and seeing a beam of light coming from the pantry. He glanced around the room before peering around the open pantry door, seeing someone crouched on the floor and rifling through his food, but all Joel could focus on was the revolver on the floor next to him, shining in the moonlight. Shooting one more glance over his shoulder, Joel stepped inside, silently placing the statue down on the floor, and then lunged forward, quickly wrapping his arm around the intruder’s neck, and using his other hand to lock his arm in place. Joel yanked them both up to a standing position, putting his foot over the revolver and shoving it under the shelves in the pantry, out of arms reach. The intruder slapped wildly at Joel's arms, then tried clawing at his face, desperate to loosen his grip so he could breathe, but Joel didn't budge, his grip strong and unmoving, his face contorted in a fury and a heat he never felt before. It didn't take long before the man passed out, but Joel held on a few minutes longer to make sure the air didn't revive him.

Once he was satisfied he was dead, Joel laid him gently on the pantry floor, frantically trying to catch his breath. He slowly picked the statue back up, temporarily forgetting about the gun, and then closed his eyes a moment as his breathing began to stabilize. He reopened them, nostrils flared, and jaw clenched. He needed to make sure the man was alone, and you were safe.

He left the pantry, glancing around the room once again before stepping forward. He was about to enter the hallway to head back towards the living room when something hard hit him across the chest, sending him crashing loudly back into the kitchen, dropping the statue. Joel gasped for air in the darkness, scrambling backwards and reaching around blindly to try to find his statue, but the other intruder kicked it away and pinned Joel down with his own baseball bat. The bat was being pressed to his throat, and Joel struggled to push against the man's weight.

"Who else is here with you?" the intruder sneered. Joel was barely able to make out his face in the darkness.

"No one," he gasped and shook his head, pushing back harder now that he was reminded of you sleeping sweetly in his bed, hoping and praying you stayed in there.

"Bullshit," the man spit. "I saw the shoes by the door. Maybe I'll have a little fun with her after I kill - "

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and Joel coughed, holding his throat. He whipped around frantically, trying to find anything to use as a weapon, when he heard wet thumping over and over. He stood up, desperately trying to make his eyes adjust to the shadows. Remembering the flashlight, he scrambled back in the pantry and snatched it up, casting the beam of light over the scuffle.

You were bent over and brutally caving in the skull of the man who almost killed him.

Over and over, you aimed the corner of the statue at the man's disfigured face, beating him to a bloody pulp, the squishing sound of blood echoing in your ears. Joel calling your name and grabbing you around the waist was the only thing that stopped you. You dropped the statue and looked him in the eye, like a wild animal cornered and ready to strike. He grabbed your face, repeating your name until your eyes focused back on him. The enormity of what you did hit you in an instant: you just killed a man.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lips trembled as you continued to stare into Joel’s eyes. He shook his head when he saw the emotion on your face.

“No. No, no, no, no. C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his embrace, and it was then you let the tears flow as you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, gripping his t-shirt in your fist like a lifeline. He snaked his arm up your back, so his hand rested at the crown of your head, and his other arm tightly squeezed you around the ribs. You both slunk to the floor of his kitchen, holding onto each other for dear life, the horror of the world around you finally making its mark on you both.  

Chapter Nine

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

[weenwrites]

Cooking A Meal: Part 2

Summary - You ask one of the cons to cook you a meal, but honestly it goes about as well as you'd expect. Characters - Megatron, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, Dreadwing, Knockout, Breakdown, Airachnid, Predaking, Darksteel, Skylynx Content - Crack Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: This is an un-revised shitpost, not something too serious.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

Don't even bother having him try to cook you something, he can't cook at all. More often than not he'll just send some vehicon off to fetch you a meal, but when he's actually put in a kitchen and told to cook a meal, he'll probably serve you a plate of charred... Stuff.

It reeks and honestly you can't even tell what it used to be. The most he knows about cooking is that humans always heat up their food. He doesn't know how cooked a piece of meat or a slice of bread has to be, and despite knowing how useful patience is, he can't bring himself to wait a couple minutes for a slice of bread to turn golden brown.

Even with some instructions he doesn't understand a single word on that page. What does "fold in the cheese" even mean?! All in all, the food tastes awful, the presentation is awful, and it's not even a nice experience, he somewhat cleans his mess, but still, it's an awful experience. Even your local fast food restaurant would serve something better than what he could make you.

Shockwave

He wouldn't be too bad at cooking... However the meal he's served you is most likely made from some artificial substitute... It's not bad, per say, and it has a higher nutritional value than everything in your kitchen combined, but... He didn't stand in a kitchen to make it, he stood in a lab and fabricated it. That aside, it's plain and has a bit of a weird taste, the presentation sucks, and it's not naturally made, it was fabricated in a laboratory. It counts as science. Not cooking. So nevermind, he'd be bad at cooking.

But if he were to cook, he'd get into the technicalities of all, and spout food science facts at you. He'd tell you all about how proteins in meat force out moisture through coagulation, and that's how meat cooks. Or how amino acids and simple sugars are rearranged to change the color of meat as it cooks. Unless you know about food science yourself, all it may sound like some scientific garble to you. Whether you implore him to continue or not is all up to you.

But just because he knows about the chemical composition of a cracker doesn't mean he knows how to make things taste good. He chooses things based on their nutritional value, not their taste. Everything from meal portions, to seasonings, to even the temperature it was cooked at is all carefully measured to ensure that you're getting your healthy fill of nutrients. He doesn't even allow you to season it afterwards, because any more seasoning would disturb the healthy balance.

Still, while it may be nutritious, it certainly isn't delicious, but at least it's 100% edible and extremely healthy.

Starscream

He didn't know humans cooked their food, he thought they just ate it as is. So you'll have to explain a lot of stuff to him before either of you actually get anywhere. But once he gets the basics down, he'll be off to a rough, yet good start!

He's very particular about the way things are organized in a kitchen, and he'll get real annoyed if you moved something like a spatula or a spoon he was using. He's sorta set up this organization system in the kitchen that works specifically for him and no one else. While it may look like a mess on the outside, it works really well for him.

He'd never touch raw meat, even if it were to cook for you. He just hates the feeling, so you'd basically have no luck at getting him to scrub a chicken down with salt and seasoning unless you gave him a pair of gloves or a brush. But even if he's a bit squeamish, he's very thorough with his work, and very patient too. But he does complain about how long it takes for things to prepare things and then cook.

Might be a bit burnt here, and a bit bland over there, but if you pick some parts out and sprinkle some salt, pepper, spice, or hot sauce on it, it makes for a solid-ish meal! Which is pretty impressive, given the fact he once knew nothing about cooking a few hours ago.

Soundwave

They're actually a really good chef, better than everyone else, that's for sure. Soundwave knows where and how to learn what he needs to know, so it wouldn't take long for him to research and grasp the bare bones of cooking. And after a couple of tries, they could definitely whip you up a 5 star meal that tastes like something the best chef in the world would make.

It's almost scary how fast he learns, but hey at least you're getting like one of the best meals in the world using cheap ingredients from your fridge. Like who knew ketchup could taste so good in place of fancy marinara sauce!

And because of the amazing meal he made, it's without a doubt that he is the undisputed best chef aboard the Nemesis and everybody else's skills immediately pale in comparison. If it were a competition, it would've been over the moment they joined.

Dreadwing

Like almost everyone on this list, he has no idea what to do, and he has no idea what humans eat, so it ends up being a bit of a lecture before he actually starts cooking. It might take him a bit, and he'll stumble here and there, but he's always quick to ask good questions to ensure he has a solid grasp on what he needs to do.

He's quick to pick up anything you teach him, like about cutting vegetables, or seasoning meals, temperature, et cetera. And in a while, he's able to follow a recipe rather well, only occasionally coming to you to ask a question about what "folding" or "basting" or "al dente" means.

He'd serve you a pretty solid meal all in all. But on the off-chance that what he made for you had caused you to get sick, he'd immediately and sincerely apologize to you, and most likely never make you a meal ever again.

Knockout

He has some knowledge around human cooking thanks to the internet, and it helps the slightest bit, but for the most part he'll be bugging you with all his questions about human cuisine and cooking.

And all the while he's cooking, he'll ask you to fetch him things like that kitchen knife over there, or that measuring cup—no, not that one. That one was used for wet ingredients, he needs the other one that was used for dry ingredients, now chop chop. The clock's ticking. Or he'll holler at you to come and help hold the bowl as he scrapes the mixture into another pan.

Surprisingly, the kitchen actually remains rather nice and orderly throughout it all. He fills your sink with water and just leaves the dirty dishes in there to soak, and cleans messes the instant they're made, which greatly helps with clean-up afterward! But he won't touch the dishes. He just hates the feeling of scrubbing grimy food off, so you're on your own unless you give him a pair of gloves.

But as for the food itself? It's... Semi-decent! He may have burned it a little, or messed up one of the steps, but it still tastes good and it's still edible. He even decorates it nicely! He'd chop any vegetables into cute little shapes, and he has a good eye for presentation. So it's pretty nice.

Breakdown

He doesn't know anything about human cooking. He does question where the heck human food comes from though, and the most he knows is that humans consume other organisms, which he finds really weird. So in the beginning, the whole cooking session might be more of an educational session than anything, but only so he understands what humans can eat and what he should be doing.

He technically doesn't do any cooking since he just makes you things like instant noodles or instant mac n' cheese. But he'll need a bit of supervising because with the noodles, he'll put the seasoning packet in the water while the noodles are cooking, and then drain the noodles because he thought that the noodles would absorb the flavor (same goes for the mac n' cheese), but it turns out that the cheese water just goes down the drain. So it technically isn't completely his fault that the food may taste off (because instant food doesn't always taste that good...) but he does mess some of the steps up which contributes to that.

But with a little guidance here, and a little trial and error there, he'll actually be able to whip up something pretty decent using the instant stuff as a base! He'll add things like chopped up vegetables or spice for some flavor in some instant ramen, or cook the macaroni in milk and add some mustard for mac n' cheese, or perhaps crack an egg and add some garlic into some insta-soup.

All in all, it's a pretty solid meal for his first time cooking. But does it really technically count as cooking if he used an already pre-made thing to make it?

Airachnid

If she didn't care about you as much as she does, she would've fed you something poisonous if she didn't ignore your request first. She's... A questionable cook... To say the least, but one thing's for sure, all the meat she uses in her cooking is fresh. And I mean fresh as in "she dragged that animal into the kitchen and slaughtered it on the spot" kind of fresh, which is ideal if you're eating something that requires super fresh meat like oysters.

She doesn't burn the food, but she most likely under-cooks it. As for seasoning, well, she doesn't add any, so whatever you're eating will need a whole lot of salt, pepper, and spices either to taste like something, or to distract from the horrible taste the food already has.

But while the food may taste weird, the presentation's interesting. It's something of an art, made from something you don't even think you can call "food" anymore, but it's interesting to look at.

All in all, the food tastes horrible, the presentation's neat, and you're 100% guaranteed to get food poisoning if you scarf the entire meal down (which you won't, the stench is bad enough to kill even flies).

Predaking

He can't cook at all—actually, he doesn't even know what humans eat, so you'll have to explain to him quite a lot. Even then, he'll probably just bring you a dead animal and assume that's enough. You'll actually have to lecture him on cooking meat, preparing ingredients, and whatnot. So this whole thing turns into a cooking lesson as opposed to doing actual cooking.

He soaks all that knowledge up like a sponge, and with his newfound knowledge of cooking he's able to make something relatively decent for you, if not leaning more towards mediocre! The meal is something simple, probably from a cookbook you have at your house (or on the internet...)

All in all, while it's below average, it's probably above-par by your standards, given the fact you just taught him how to cook a hot second ago. The presentation is simple, the food actually tastes good, so all in all it's a pretty average meal.

Darksteel

Surprise, surprise! He is the worst cook out of them all. And here you might have thought that Predaking or Airachnid would've been the worst, but nope. It's him. He'd most likely burn your kitchen down, if not trash everything you have, and waste everything you have in your fridge. The best he does is bring you a dead animal that he "cooked" by spewing fire at it. Then again it's most likely either overcooked or undercooked and would definitely give you trichinellosis, E. coli, BSE, salmonella, or whatever other horrible disease you risk contracting by eating what he's served you.

But what about vegetables? He doesn't even know what a vegetable is, and unless you give him a really thorough description of what counts as a vegetable or not, he'd most likely just uproot a tree or pluck a bush out from the ground and give it to you, mildly scorched, because he remembered that you have to cook it.

If you were to ask him about presentation, he'd probably pose the scorched cattle or chicken he got his claws on, set the crisp "vegetables" upright, and think that's good enough "presentation".

Bottom line? Do not eat anything he gives you, it'll absolutely destroy your stomach.

Skylynx

Yeah he doesn't want to. He'd hate cooking so much because everything takes so long to do! He's sensible enough to do some research and learn, or ask you questions for clarification, but waiting for water to boil just drives him crazy.

He tries to work diligently and be patient, but you might catch him cutting corners a little bit. How so? Well, he'd raise the temperature of the stove to get something to cook faster, or if he needs to carefully ground something into a poultice, he'll just smush it into paste. If you're having something simple like mashed potatoes, then he has absolutely no problem preparing that.

He doesn't pay much attention to how it looks, so while the food he serves looks unappetizing as he straight up slaps it onto your plate, it actually tastes pretty decent... Ish... Decent-ish. Sure your food may have come out a bit burnt, or you might find some weird chunks in it, but it's better than what Darksteel has to offer, that's for sure.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp megatron #megatron x reader #tfp shockwave #shockwave x reader #tfp starscream #starscream x reader #tfp soundwave #soundwave x reader #tfp dreadwing #dreadwing x reader #tfp knockout #knockout x reader #tfp breakdown #breakdown x reader #tfp airachnid #airachnid x reader #tfp predaking #predaking x reader #tfp darksteel #darksteel x reader #tfp skylynx #skylynx x reader #shitpost #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Can you explain to me the chemistry behind the denaturation of enzymes and the process of allosteric and competitive inhibition?

First of all it's important to understand what an enzyme is. An enzyme is a protein, that catalyses reactions after binding to a substrate and then converts it or splits it. An enzyme has a very specific shape so it can bind to the substrate, it's like a key and a lock. The substrate binds to the binding site, and in the catalytic or active centre the reaction takes place.

This is important to understand denaturation: Proteins are made out of amino acids that are bound with peptide bonds. Proteins have several levels of structure: Their primary level is the sequence of amino acids, the secondary structures are folded structures due to interactions of the peptide backbones via hydrogen bonds, like alpha helices or beta sheets. The tertiary structure is folding of the peptides due to electrochemical interactions between different amino acids. Amino acids can have different charges due to their side chains, they can be positive, negative or neutral charged. So those charges will either attract or repel each other, putting the peptide chain in a certain three dimensional shape or conformation. In the quaternary structure several peptide chains come together to create a bigger functional unit (the enzyme) made out of subunits, they often also interact with ions (cofactors) as their catalytic centre where the catalysed reaction takes place. All those levels create the specific shape of the enzyme that is required to bind to their target substrate. So if those structures are changed in any way, it won't work anymore because it can't bind. Just reading it probably makes it difficult to understand, so here's a textbook graphic.

This shape can be changed by denaturation. A protein can be denaturated by heat, or changed pH or high salinity and other not optimal conditions. During those conditions like changed pH the interactions between the molecules and side chains do not work anymore because pH can change the charges of the sidechains, so secondary, tertiary and quarternary structures will be changed. When those structures are changed the binding site will change too and not resemble the lock anymore where the key substrate can bind, so now the enzyme is inactivated/inhibited.

Enzymes can also be inhibited (or activated) by regulatory molecules binding to the enzyme, inhibitors or activators. This can be a competitive inhibition, when the inhibitor binds at the same binding and active site and blocking it, making the actual substrate that should be processed unable to bind there. Like a lock that already has a key stuck in it, you can't put another key in there. Allosteric inhibition is when the inhibitor binds at another site, not directly at the active site where the substrate binds. But by binding to the allosteric site the conformation of the enzyme gets changed by chemical interactions, changing the binding site so the substrate doesn't get recognised anymore. A key can't be insterted into a lock that has been changed.

Inhibtion can be irreversible (making the enzyme dysfuntional for the rest of it's existence until it is degraded) or reversible.

#roleplay #rp #sherlock roleplay #sherlock rp #sherlock #sherlock holmes #biology #molecular biology #biochemistry #chemistry #a level chemistry #chemblr #bioblr #science #scientist #scienceblr #biology student #biology facts #a level biology #enzyme inhibitors #protein #molecular biology enzymes #science side of tumblr #studying #biology studyblr #chemistry major #biology major #college #university #sherlock replies

[guilty-pleasures21]

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

Okay, I've realised that I need to write in some extra parts to make it flow better before I end this series.

7. Sigh. This is my life now.

Part 1 - The last day

Part 2 - the meeting

Warnings: None.

----------------------------------------------------------

     “So this is the list of all my vials of proteins,” X explained, moving the mouse over the screen. Miguel nuzzled the crook of her neck with his mouth and X giggled at the feeling. “Miguel! Pay attention, boss.” 

 ��   Miguel groaned and wrapped his arms tighter around his adorable little girlfriend. “How am I supposed to focus on anything when I've got my pretty little research assistant sitting on my lap like this?” 

     “Well, you have to focus,” X demanded, shifting in position to better face him. “Otherwise you're going to keep calling me and asking me where everything is!” 

     “I can just bring my laptop home and ask you, right?” Miguel pointed out, sliding his hands along the hollows of her waist. She was going to be leaving the company soon so she could pursue her PhD. Of course he’d prefer it if she'd just stay by his side and help him further his research on his spider powers, but she was crazy smart and he wanted her to take advantage of all the opportunities that came her way. He cared about her enough to put his own needs aside and support her in whatever she wanted to do. X wrapped her arms around his neck and flashed him an exasperated look.

     “That's free labour,” she chastised him. “Right?” But of course she'd be helping him even when she wouldn't be working anymore - she loved him, after all, and she'd do anything she could to ensure his success. Miguel grinned at the way her lips curled at the ends in teasing and he leaned forward to peck her lips quickly. X clenched her muscles in excitement and Miguel moved one hand to her thigh as she began swinging her legs back and forth. She was so cute and sweet and he still couldn't understand how she'd fallen for a boring grump like him. 

     “And anyway,” she continued, her expression turning a little apprehensive now, “I'm not sure how much free time I'll have.” She bit her lip as she glanced up at him and he knew she was feeling nervous about her PhD. Miguel slid his arms back around her waist and pulled his little girlfriend into his chest. 

     “You'll be fine, querida,” he reassured her gently, his hand moving up and down her back in soothing strokes. “I'll take care of you when you feel like you can't do it yourself. And even when you can. I'll take care of you, querida.” 

     He pulled back to flash her a warm smile and relaxed when he saw that the tension had eased from her features. X reached up to cup his cheek in her hand and Miguel leaned into her tender touch. “I love you, Miguel.” 

     “I love you too, X.”

     “Ugh! Can't you extend your contract?” X's intern begged her again. “Just for, like, six more months?” 

     “Yeah, then we can all leave together!” one of the other girls chimed in. X grinned at them, a warm feeling filling her chest at how much they liked having her around. 

     “I can't, guys, that's not how it works,” she repeated patiently. “And besides, I have to study some more!” Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk when she noticed Miguel out of the corner of her eye.

     “Then I can come back and become Miguel's boss!” she joked, causing the hall to fill with laughter. The sounds of their amusement quickly died down, however, when Miguel moved to stand behind X, arms folded across his chest, features set into a sombre expression. 

     “Are you all ready to go?” he asked her, his voice soft but his tone hard. X twisted around in her seat to flash him a sweet smile, but he just narrowed his eyes at her before sliding his gaze away altogether. X tilted her head in question, surprised by his cold reaction, but her sweet and loving boyfriend refused to look her in the eyes. 

     “Uh, yeah,” she replied, standing up. She reached for her bag and the interns swarmed around her, rushing to give her hugs before she left. X laughed at their enthusiasm and Miguel felt his heart squeeze at how much they all admired her. “I'll still meet up with you guys for lunch and stuff. Message me if you ever need any help, okay?” 

     She turned to Miguel when she'd finished with her round of goodbyes, an expectant look on her face. But all he could bear to do in that moment was give her a few pats on the shoulder. “Um, see you around, arañita.” 

     He squeezed her shoulder, staunchly avoiding her gaze, then stepped back and placed his hands on his hips, shifting in position awkwardly. Finally, he dragged his eyes up to hers and gave her a nod before gesturing to the exit. 

     He was upset. But he was trying so hard to hide it, putting on that cold front everyone had gotten so accustomed to. X curled her fingers around his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze, then waited until he looked up at her again. 

     ‘It's okay, Miguel,’ she told him silently. ‘You know I'm still here for you. I love you, mi amor.’ 

     His stomach twisted into a tight knot and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Um, good luck with … with your studies … and everything. You'll do great.”

     X gave him a knowing look, her slender fingers still resting on his arm, then her expression softened and she gestured to the door. Miguel’s gaze flickered over to the interns, still watching their interaction with careful curiosity, then he straightened and gestured for X to lead the way to the door. 

     “I’ll see you tonight, querido,” X murmured once they were alone, careful not to get too close to him while they were still in the vicinity of the office area. 

     “Hmm,” Miguel mumbled, his bulky shoulders slumped in defeat. Her fingers ached to reach out and brush his cheek in comfort. But it wouldn’t do any good if someone caught them. 

     “I love you, mi amor,” she told him softly instead. Miguel let out another hum of agreement, then she turned and left him forever. 

     He’d spent the rest of the day locked up in his office, not wanting to go outside and be reminded of the lack of his cute little arañita. But then finally, the clock struck five and Miguel threw his things into his bag before rushing out the door. 

     “Hey, Miguel, what’s the-” Nate didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Miguel had swept past him and disappeared from the office. 

     “¿Querida?” he dialled her number as soon as he'd gotten into his car. “Where are you?” 

     “At home,” she replied, her tone slightly concerned by the hurried note in his voice. “What’s wrong?” 

     “Nothing,” he replied quickly, continuing his route to her apartment. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.” 

     “Bye, Miguel, love you!” she exclaimed before he could hang up. Miguel’s lips twitched at the ends at how easily she always said it. 

     “Bye, querida. I love you too.” 

     She was just scrunching her curl cream into her hair when she heard the sound of her door lock turning. She flipped her hair over her shoulders, then ran to her living room to greet her sweet boyfriend. Miguel locked the door behind him, then turned to face her, his shoulders tensed up by his ears. X ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a big hug. Then she started trying to hook her leg around his waist in an attempt to climb up onto him. 

     “Lift me up, querido,” she demanded, her words muffled from where she’d buried her face in his chest. A soft snicker escaped Miguel’s throat, but he grabbed her thighs and lifted her up onto his hips. X treated him to that sweet smile that made his heart flutter, then she showered his face with quick kisses. Miguel chuckled as he walked her over to the sofa and sank down onto it. He slid his hands along her bare thighs as he studied her features carefully and X leaned forward to peck his lips before giving him a warm smile. She reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek and he relaxed into her touch. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s fine if you don’t.” 

     He sighed and slid his fingers between hers, taking hold of her hand before lowering it to her lap. He fiddled with her fingers for a while, his gaze remaining fixed on how small they looked between his. Then he squeezed her waist. “I need you.” 

     She tilted his face up to hers so he could see the soft smile on her face. “What do you need from me?” 

     He didn’t respond and instead wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest. He held her there for a while, breathing in the familiar buttery scent of her curl cream, then he loosened his grip on her. X stayed in position, her arms slung lazily around his neck, her fingers running along the back of his scalp, and Miguel felt more of the tension ease from his body at the warm weight of her in his arms. 

     “Talk to me, Miguel,” she mumbled against the side of his neck. “Tell me what's bothering you.” 

     He sucked in a breath and tightened his grip on her, afraid to say the words out loud. But it was eating him up from the inside and he knew he wouldn't be able to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling until he told her and allowed her to reassure him. “Don't leave me.” 

     His voice was so small as he said it, so … embarrassed. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the terror evident in his tone and she gave him another tight hug before pulling back to meet his gaze. “I'm not gonna leave you, Miguel!” 

     He looked at her with wide eyes, his lips pursed into a woeful frown and she leaned forward to give him another quick peck on the mouth. 

     “I love you,” she continued, giving a little giggle to punctuate her point. “I want to see you everyday! I'm going to go over to your house and wait for you to come back from work. And then I'm gonna eat all of your food and make you cook us dinner and take infinitely long showers in your bathroom and ask you all the stupidest questions I can think of while I'm studying. You're gonna get sick of me, Miguel! You're gonna get so sick of me you'll regret it!” 

     She wriggled around in his arms excitedly and Miguel couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips. “I'll never get sick of you, querida.”

     X's features melted into an expression of horror and she leaned over to knock her wooden coffee table. “Don't say that, Miguel!” 

     He grinned and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slow and sweet. She smiled as she kissed him back, then ran her hand up and down his chest as she lay her head on his shoulder. Miguel inhaled her sweet scent one more time, his entire body warming at the comforting feeling of her against him. Then he cleared his throat nervously. 

     “But, um, I mean …” he stammered out, trying to figure out how to phrase his suggestion. “It would just be easier, right? If you just … moved in with me? Like, if we lived together? I mean, we can save money and it would just be easier and stuff.” 

     She froze in position, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest as she considered his words. But he hadn't even met her family yet! Or any of her friends. And was he only asking her because he was upset about her leaving her job? Would it really be easier? Or would it complicate things and force them to learn all the little habits they hated in one another? She pulled back, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Miguel flashed her an apprehensive look. 

     “Are you just asking me because you're afraid I'm going to leave you?” she asked him point blank. “Because that's stupid, Miguel: I’m not going anywhere.” 

     “No!” Miguel denied quickly, shaking his head at her question. “I'm asking you because I want you to move in with me. I love you, X and I want to come home and see your face every single day. To take care of you and have you fall asleep in my arms every night. And we already do most of that anyway, right? What's the point in moving around so much?” 

     He ran his fingers through her hair as he watched her features, waiting for her response. X lifted her hand to her mouth to begin nibbling on her fingernails, but Miguel gently pulled it away and held it in his own. 

     He did make some really good points, she had to admit. They'd always go home together after work, whether to her place or his. And they'd hang out on the weekends too, either going on quiet little dates together or just sitting around at home and relaxing. She glanced up at him quickly, her stomach tightening at the thought of not having her own place to run away to if he ever got mad at her. She'd be living under someone else's roof, after all, in someone else's house. She snuck a peek at her boyfriend again, his expression nervous as he waited for her to say something. But he'd never made her feel like it was someone else's house. He'd given her her own set of keys that she could use to go over to his place even when he wasn't there. And he'd brought her shopping for some new furniture so she could keep more of her stuff at his place whenever she slept over. He'd done so much already to make himself seem like home to her and she had to believe that she could depend on him to be there for her when she needed it. She bit her lip. “Okay, but then how do I … contribute?”

     “What do you mean?” 

     “I mean … like,” she paused, trying to figure out how to say it. “It's not just your house. I have to take care of it too. I don't … I mean, I barely earn half as much as you but, I can buy the groceries and stuff? Like, fill the house?”

     Miguel patted her thigh gently. “You don't have to do that, querida.”

     “No, it's not,” she pulled at her hair, getting frustrated. “I know I don't have to do that, like … you've never made me feel that way. But … I just …

     “Growing up, my mum always told me to never be financially dependent on someone else, if I could help it. And I never want to have to be financially dependent on my husband.” She paused to give him a solemn look. “I'm going to be earning my own money, okay? I can't be some stay-at-home housewife: I need to work, I need something to do.”

     She gestured between the two of them emphatically. “We will contribute equally. But maybe sometimes, that means that you'll have to give more financially. But then I'll make up for it by giving more time, or more energy, like to our kids or something. And that's just how it works. Okay? It has to be equal. You can't …”

     She sighed, wanting to make sure he understood the point she was trying to make. 

     “I know you will never say this, but people say stupid stuff when they're angry, and even if we don't mean it, it still hurts the other person. And I never want to hear the stupid argument 'okay, but it's my money, I'm the one who's working hard to earn it.'” She clutched at her hair again, getting mad now. “Oh my god, Miguel, if I ever hear you using those words? I am going to have to kill you. I am literally going to have to kill you. Understand?” 

     She sat back in her seat, her features set into a hard expression as she waited for his confirmation. But all he could think about was the fact that she’d called him her ‘husband’ and basically confirmed that she wanted to have kids with him, the two of them building their own little life together. He could just imagine it: their house, their children, taking their family out on little trips, coordinating pick-ups and drop-offs at school, picking up the slack when the other was too tired to do it. He squeezed his girlfriend’s waist and gave her a wide smile. 

     “Yes, that’s what I want,” he breathed out before pulling her into a hug. He straightened and pushed her back slightly so he could see the look on her face. “Our kids? Our kids, querida? We can take care of them together? You’ll be my wife? My wife. And I’ll get to be your husband? Dios mío, querida, your husband?!” 

     X laughed as she pushed against him, putting some distance between them so she could look up at him. “Miguel! We haven’t even moved in together yet. Calm down, janam.” 

     “But we’ve already known each other for a year, querida,” he pointed out, hands still curled around her waist. “Can’t we just get married now?” He grinned at the thought, thrilled by the very idea of making her his pretty little wife. X smiled and Miguel turned her head to his so he could see the shy look on her face. 

     “Miguel.” Her stomach sank suddenly as she thought about the long journey still ahead of them. “I … haven’t even told my parents yet. Or, like, anyone.” Her brow furrowed and she fiddled with the hem of his shirt as she tried to figure out how she’d introduce him to her parents. ‘Hi mum, hi dad. This is my boyfriend who was previously my boss and, actually, we were having an affair while I was still working under him.’ She cringed at the thought. 

      “Do you want to meet my friends first or my sister?” she asked, then replied to her own question before he could speak. “Ah, maybe my friends. My sister can be scary. And a little mean sometimes. But she’s nice! She just … She just wants the best for me, that’s all. Ahh! I’m so nervous!” 

     Miguel pulled her into his arms and patted her back reassuringly. “Querida. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” 

     He let her go so he could look at her and the tension eased from her features. She cupped his cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb across the slightly stubble on his jaw. “Okay. I love you, Miguel.”

     “I love you too, X.”

Tags: @heubstr @julia4today @zayai @amberbalcom14

#miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x you #miguel fluff #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fluff #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x y/n #spiderman oc #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spiderman 2099 fluff #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #atsv miguel

[eveandtheturtles]

Silly idea. Enjoy. Everyone is over the age of 21.

The closet

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Jennika stood in the door of supply closet and stared at the three turtles. Donnie, Leo and Raph. All three sitting on some creates and eating what seemed to be McDonald's. They all stared at her frozen like deer in hearlights.

First to snap out was Raph. "Shhh, get in here!" He whispered harshly and pulled her inside closing the door behind her.

"Alright, alright! Care to explain now??" She pushed his hand away.

Donnie put his food down looking ashamed, staring at his knees. Leo was looking at the ceiling. Raph was also avoiding looking at her.

"Well?"

"Kara's on her period and she eats all my nuggies..." Donnie mumbled.

Leo cleared his throat. "Amy and Peter steal my fries..."

They both then looked at Raph who folded his arms on his chest.

"Spill, big guy. Why are you hiding with the contraband?" Jennika grinned.

Raph didn't look at anyone. "Mirka is on a health kick lately..." He grumbled. "I am just sick of the protein shakes and kale, okay!"

Jennika bit her lip and looked away. "You fuckers are ridiculous," she sighed and shook her head. "You know you can just get extra for your boos, right? You are 7 foot tall, grown men who can flip over a fucking truck with one arm," she looked to Raph. "Just tell them you want pizza!" She ignored the sound of 'hurt their feelings' mumbled under his breath.

"I am going out and you-" she couldn't believe she was saying this- "stay in your closet."

"Hey, don't- don't sell us out," Leo pleaded.

"Fine, but you owe me! You," she pointed at all three of them. "Owe me!" She opened the door and stepped out.

She went to the living room. Men are ridiculous in any species.

"They're in the closet, aren't they?" Mikey said as she flopped on the couch.

"Yup." She reached for her beer bottle. "How did you know?"

"Kara sniffed them out. She has a nose of a bloodhound," he snickered.

"Do other know?" She eyed the crowed in the kitchen.

"Nope." Mikey popped the last syllable with a grin. "So...Blackmail material?" He raised his beer.

"Blackmail material." She clinked their bottles together.

@leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @sharpwindow @m1dnyt3-w0lf @turtle-babe83 @tinkabelle19 @madammuffins @pheradream-15 @dilucsflame33 @scholastic-dragon @turtle-babe83

#eve scribbles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt #bayverse turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donnie #raphael tmnt #tmnt jennika #mikey tmnt

[kaddyssammlung]

CW: ED

Someone out there said something that I've been thinking about for the past few days actually. I love it when things align and synchronicity starts to happen. So I just decided to add some realistic thoughts.

"You must be crazy if you think that I will give up the game....Sugar...I've got a taste for you"

Or just some logical thinking combined with my many years of experience.

Many humans out there have a certain image in their head when they think about eating disorders. Usually someone really emaciated.

The problem is though, that not everyone will reach such low weights. My BMI is usually around 18-21 yet my struggle with my eating disorder was very real. I know that my weight said otherwise most of the times. Even when I was in therapy and I tried to explain how my ED was linked to my drinking behavior no really believed me because I was at an average weight. Maybe that got better? I mean maybe mental health staff know better now? It's been 9 years since my last therapy sessions.

My point is that not everyone who does struggle a lot also looks like it.

Many humans that I know from my old Pro days turned to weight lifting at some point. I mean that's good for them. They claim to be fine these days I really want to believe them. I mean Vessel does follow a certain diet because if not then he would not look the way he does. Abs are really made in the kitchen.

Over the past few weeks I switched to a protein based diet again so that I would lose the weight that I gained last summer. My abs are also showing again. They were always there. I did not change my training. I run mostly but now that my diet is better again they are finally showing again.

My point with that is when you want to look a certain way you have to do something about it. I'm sure that he does that.

Maybe it's just his way of dealing with his ED?

I feel like EDs with someone being male are still overlooked. Yes, there are many women struggling and I also know a lot of women who struggled. But from my old Pro days I also know one guy and also a childhood friend of mine also has an ED. It started to get really obvious when he was rowing for Uni. I see so many male athletes where I'm often like....they just “hide” their ED better. Other than that the thoughts and feelings seem to be the same.

Assuming that he struggled that way is realistic but it's still an assumption.

And also yes...please die Ana for as long as you're here were not! You make the sound of laughter and sharpen nails seems softer. But I need you now somehow!

That and.... Hunger hurts and I want him so bad, oh it kills 'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't want to clean up I've got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold Hunger hurts but starving works when it costs too much to love

I could go on and on about this topic! How an addiction is like having a relationship with someone and all kinds of things but I stop for now.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token lyrics #tw ed

[bubu-pharmacy-doctor]

Pantalone stood infront of Baizhu, clearing his throat.

“Ah.. its so awkward.. Hmm.. Could you tell me something about DNA mutation, brother?” – Pantalone (-@themoneywasflowing)

[Despite his apprehension, upon being asked a topic of his interest, Baizhu quickly lit up, talking with his hands as he explained the topic, though not too in depth as to not confuse Pantalone too quickly.]

It's very common for people to think that all mutations happen in the DNA, are rare, and will always be noticed, but that's far from the truth.

Because DNA is degenerative and most mutations are substitutions, you undergo so many mutations without knowing.

Most of them occur during RNA synthesis, though because it's more likely a substitution it's unlikely there will be a frame shift, so only that codon will be affected.

Largely, it will not change the amino acid the codon codes for, so it will have absolutely no affect on the protein. Even if it does, there's still a chance it won't change the folding. If you change an amino acid with sulpher to a different amino acid with sulpher, you will still form a disulphide bridge, likely between the same two amino acids.

Even if it does cause a major change, that change will likely not have an affect on your body.

If one of your mRNA strands has a major mutation that changes the entire shape of the enzyme, that strand is only used once, it only makes on version of that broken enzyme, with the other strands taken from that same area of DNA not mutating and producing the functional enzyme, meaning there is such a little affect on the rate of reaction, that it causes no issue to your body because it's one singular cell that had that issue.

For the same reason, a lot of deletion and addition mutations won't have an affect.

It's realistically only an issue if it's a mutation in the DNA, which is much less common, because that is permanent in that strand of DNA, which again is likely to not cause a major issue because it will jsut be that one cell which means the only time it is definitively an issue is in meiosis because that will be the first strand of DNA in the embryo and every single one will replicate form that strand, which is how you get genetic diseases like cystic fibrosis.

...

Why are you asking about this?

#baizhu 🌱 #pantalone 🪶 #genshin impact

[hey-hamlet]

can you share your theory on the premature aging please i am really interested

Ok so! This is gonna be kinda nerdy - jargon translations at the bottom.

One of my 'how quirks work genetically' theories is that the quirk virus made germline mutations way more common - tanking the fertility rate bc some of the mutations were incompatible with life, but a a lot of those other mutations led to weird hair, skin and eye colours along with quirks. In real life viruses don't do this directly, some but can incorporate themselves into genomes in fragile places that can, indirectly, increase mutation rates. Also in real life these mutations just give you cancer, but anyway.

Another driver of mutation is stress - like real actual 'my life is a mess' stress, but specifically in this case I'm talking about oxidative stress - this can be caused via aforementioned real actual stress, lifestyle problems, immune system responses, etc. Normal metabolism also induces oxidative stress - OFA uses a *lot* of energy - even if it isn't all from calories, it's still got to be used like ATP!

Basically, you get OFA, and a quirk? Your body is mutation central.

Now you may be thinking - hang on, didn't you just say that all those mutations give you cancer? Where is the aging coming in? And honestly fair enough. Oxidative damage is believed to play some part in aging, but not the main part and it wouldn't explain why being quirkless protects you from it.

The answer is lamins - the weird part of the cell you never think about. Lamins are proteins that form a sort of mesh that keeps your cell nuclei nice and round, allowing for easy cell division and nice neat DNA organisation. Progeria is a rare disease caused by a single nucleotide mutation in the gene coding for the processing of lamins, causing them to fold incorrectly, leading to misshapen nuclei. The symptoms of this disease can be simplified to fatal accelerated and premature aging. These lamins and the associated abnormal nuclei can also be found in, unsurprisingly, the elderly (well, in everyone, but the quantity goes up with age).

This disease is typically a germline cell mutation itself, but now we get to play with the quirk virus (and also fudge genetics a touch). If the quirk virus inserted itself near the lamin gene, the chances of mutation are boosted - now, normally those mutated cells would just get cleared away by the immune system and everyone is happy. But, factor in the massive amounts of oxidative stress OFA causes on the already fragile region of DNA and we start accumulating these mutations in the lamin genes all over the place, causing that rapid and fatal aging seen in OFA wielders that have quirks.

jargon translations: germline mutation: mutation within germ cells - egg or sperm - that can pass on to your children. oxidative stress: you know how oxygen rusts metal? wild over simplification, but something a lot like that happens inside you. antioxidants (eaten and produced by the body) are 'easier to rust' and use up all of the reactive oxygen to keep your cells safe. ATP: adenosine triphosphate - the food you eat eventually ends up as this through a long and convoluted collection of pathways, and its the way your cells can actually make use of it. nucleotide: one of the 4 letters your DNA is made up of - in its simplest form, your DNA is just two matching strands made up of a bunch of these letters which your body reads like a computer reads binary code.

sources: i'm not citing them because i do enough of that in university, but studies, my course content and also wikipedia because sometimes you just need to make sure something you though you knew was right or not. you also do not actually need to trust me because this is just a fan theory about an anime, it just needs to sound good. to my knowledge i'm correct though, but have wildly over simplified a lot

#bnha #bnha fan theory #bnha lore #one for all #one for all theory #cancer mention #bnha meta #my meta #im so bad at tagging things this will do #am i a little skeevy amount using a rare fatal genetic illness to explain an anime plot point? yeah tbh - #but thats really the only place this mutation pops up and the mechanism is super interesting #if i didn't explain something in this well and you wanna ask questions - go for it! #asks

[rfaromance]

Bright.

Blindingly bright.

Saeyoung squinted as he stepped out from his workroom, blinking vigorously as his eyes tried to adjust to the light.

When he was in his "office," as he called it with a tongue-in-cheek chuckle, he entrenched himself in almost total darkness. Only the faint glow of screens illuminated the din.

But when he walked out into the living space of his bunker, where a warm smile greeted him from the kitchen....

Dizzyingly, dazzlingly bright.

"Saeyoung!" Her voice was music to his ears as she called out to him cheerfully. "Are you finally done working? Come over and eat!"

He plopped down in a stool on the other side of the kitchen counter, then craned his neck to try to see what she had prepared for him. "I didn't hear the fire alarm," he commented, unable to suppress his amusement as he did so.

She quickly wiped the smirk off his face by smacking him with a hand towel. "Today's meal was incident-free!" she huffed. "If only because... I've been banned from using the oven until we get new oven mitts."

Saeyoung could feel the heat radiating off her face in waves. "And I promised you can pick them out. Whatever mitts make you happy." He knew she didn't mean to burn a hole straight through the fabric of the old mitt. "Come on, now. Show me what you made!" Eager to change the topic, he adjusted his glasses and tried to sneak another peek at her creation.

"Yes!" Her eyes lit up in excitement as she turned to grab the dish she had prepared. "Today I made... ahem." She paused and cast him a quick glance.

At her cue, Saeyoung began to drum his hands against the counter, preparing for a grand entrance.

"A PhD Parfait!" With a dramatic flourish, she slid a bowl in front of Saeyoung's face, close enough that he almost ended up with yogurt atop his freckled nose.

No longer suppress his giggles, Saeyoung echoed gleefully, "PhD Parfait!" Propping his elbows up and leaning forward, he purred, "Well, I must know, what layers of study went into this parfait's degree?"

"This parfait has its base studies in vanilla yogurt and granola," she began. "It then proceeded to get a master's in honey drizzle, with extra classes in blueberry and strawberry, then naturally a thesis on chopped cherry!" He could almost hear her chest thumping as she tucked her head down shyly. "I wanted to turn your favorite flavors into something healthy... I hope you don't mind the sliced almonds that I added for protein. Plus... you're quite nutty, so they fit."

With an indignant snort, Saeyoung folded his arms over his chest. He quickly stuck his tongue out and winked at her to let her know he was just joking, though. Eagerly he picked up his spoon and began to dig into the parfait.

By playing around, he could hide the tears in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks at how touched he was that she was this thoughtful and sweet.

"What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked in between bites. "Now that I'm finished working for today."

"Hmm..." She slung her apron over the hook on the side of the refrigerator, before coming back to sit beside him. "Can we stay in? It's supposed to be really cold today."

Saeyoung nodded slowly. "Right. You don't handle the cold well." He knew her joints became stiff when the temperature dropped too low, and overall she would function more slowly. "We can stay inside. Is it a video game day, a binge-watch day, or continue working on the moving basketball hoop day?"

"I still don't understand why you want to make it move!" she groaned. "I'm bad enough at basketball when the hoop stays still! Why can't we make a robot that retrieves tennis balls? Since we're both awful at tennis."

Saeyoung shook his head. "I get my tennis workout by running after all the balls we miss!" he explained. "Unless you have any other ideas?" His voice grew soft as he added, "We'll do whatever makes you happy."

He could almost see the gears turning in her head as she fumbled around for an answer. "Oh!" Like a light bulb had gone off inside her, she asked, "Do we still have those model rockets? The wooden ones? Let's put them together and then paint them!"

"Mm, yeah." He nodded, finishing his bite full of berries before continuing. "Check where we keep the board games."

Hastily she sprang up, clearly excited to get started, but almost immediately she fell back into her seat.

At once, Saeyoung jumped to his feet, turning towards her with concern. "Honey! Are you okay?"

"Of course, of course." She waved him off dismissively. "I just stood up too fast. I'm fine!" As if to prove herself, she jumped up again, only to teeter and collapse back into her seat again.

Saeyoung's brow furrowed and he reached over to place his arms around her for support. "Come here. Let me take you to the couch. When's the last time I checked your vitals?"

She shook her head uncertainly. "I... can't access my calendar. That's strange. Is it updating right now?"

Fighting hard to keep a calm smile on his face, Saeyoung led her to the couch. Once he was sure she was seated firmly, he reached underneath the couch and pulled out a metal box. "Let me check you over real quick, get you something to fuel up, and then we paint. Would that make you happy?"

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan, dear!"

Dizzyingly bright.

He parted her dark hair to the side and lifted her shirt, exposing her delicate back. He slid his goggles on and pulled out his flashlight and screwdriver, as he carefully removed her back panel to reveal the motherboard underneath. "No wonder she's feeling off," he mumbled as he put his screwdriver down and began searching in his toolbox for his soldering iron. "These wires are frayed. I'll need to make replacements tonight."

Excitement. Joy. Curiosity. Embarrassment. Mischief. Love.

He had done his best to recreate every aspect of her, from the color of the bulbs in her eyes to the shade of fiber for her hair, from the spray paint he used for her skin to the synthesizer he selected for her voice. He wanted to capture her broad range of emotions and the intensity with which she felt them. He hadn't been sure such a feat would be possible, but after trial and error, he had finally created almost an exact likeness of the woman he loved.

Almost exact, for two reasons:

First, because God Seven was no god at all but a mere human, and he could not ever hope to recreate his departed angel perfectly.

Second, because he had chosen not to program her with sadness.

Sadness. Sorrow. Despair. Agony. Misery. Emptiness.

She would only know bliss. She would be happy for the rest of their lives.

Saeyoung would never, ever need to see tears fall from his beloved's face ever again.

He wouldn't lose her to misfortune and misery a second time.

"Are you happy?" he whispered, barely audible as he fused the frayed wires back together.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you!" she chirped back, sitting patiently as Saeyoung worked his repairs.

I hope it's bright and happy where you are.

(loosely inspired by this art by @itsmeohmyo )

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #707 #707 x mc #she/her mc #inspired by that one fanart that i'm looking for RIGHT NOW #also inspired by my depression :') #ask to tag #tw death mention #tw implied death

[hazelroses1]

Experienced Lifter Katsuki Isn't Helping the New Girl Until He Does

Gym AU - Modern AU - Suggestive - Kacchako

Katsuki always works out alone and avoids annoying people who attend his gym’s scheduled classes. His gym mate, Eijirou, a CrossFit coach, talks him into attending one of his classes. He begrudgingly agrees with the promise that Eijirou will never ask him again. It’s Saturday morning, hot and sticky already, and he wants to get this fucking show on the road when a woman approaches him. Her workout attire hugs her every curve, highlighting her hips and full breasts. Not only that, but she’s also toned, clearly a girl who takes her fitness journey seriously. Katsuki blinks himself out of his stupor as she introduces herself as Ochako.

“I, um, see you working out a lot outside of the classes,” she says, arms folding behind her back. “Wanna be partners for the workout? Eijirou told me you would be here and that working out with you would be a good challenge for me.”

She wants to work out with him?! If she wants to get her ass reamed, he’ll gladly provide it, but he’s made a grave mistake about her. Ochako is strong as shit and has the stamina to match. She’s holding his pace and doing some exercises without modifying them. Watching her do pull-ups in those tiny fucking blue shorts has him licking his lips. When they finish, and he turns to leave, his body on fire, and not just from the workout, she calls out to him.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d help me practice my barbell lifts?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. It isn’t his goddamn job. Katsuki quit coaching two years ago and wasn’t about to pick it up now. His gym time included him and weights, not him, the weights, and a tiny buff smoke show.

“Tch, ask Eijirou,” he snaps, walking over to his water bottle that’s close to the door leading into the protein and snack area. “He’s the damn coach!”

Ochako follows, not at all phased by his gruff response.

“He told me to ask you.”

Katsuki glares at Eijirou, who’s conveniently giving him a thumbs up. This stupid fucker is setting him up. Katsuki would kill him. He’s told him a million times he’s not looking for a fucking relationship. Katsuki will murder him, resuscitate him, and kill him again.

“I want to do a weightlifting competition in a few months,” she explains, stopping when Katsuki does. He grabs his water bottle with enough force to collapse it. “He said you’re really good with Olympic lifting.”

Katsuki’s chest fills with dread. If he says yes, which he fucking won’t, he’ll have to train with Ochako and her tiny shorts that ride up to show the underside of her ass for a while. It would be idiotic to say yes.

“I won’t go fucking easy on you,” Katsuki says, contradicting the hard no in his thoughts. “You do what I say, or we’re done, got it?”

Her face lights up, her excited expression wearing on his stiff demeanor. “Got it! Your name is Katsuki, right?”

He grunts in response. Ochako brushes it off and bows. “Nice to meet you!”

Nice in-fucking-deed. Katsuki and Ochako train a few times weekly, and she’s growing on him. She rotates between buying him protein powders, pre-workouts, and protein bars as compensation for his time, no matter how many times he yells at her not to.

“I’m gonna make you smile!” she tells him, and she’s gotten pretty close.

Katsuki finds himself thinking about her more than he should, picturing how fucking hot she looks pulling 113kg deadlifts off the floor with ease. She can do five sets of eight now, and that’s after 200-meter sprints. He’s staring at her ass more and eying her chest when he should be focused on spotting her bench press. He knows she’s noticed because she drags him into the locker rooms one day and gives him a shy but coy smile. Katsuki freezes as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“I really like you, Katsuki, and I think you want me as bad as I want you.”

“You’re a dumbass,” he croaks. “I never said that.”

She raises an eyebrow and puts enough pressure on his growing erection with her upper thigh that he thinks he might die.

“Your body shows me you’re interested, and it’s not the first time.” Ochako hooks a finger in the waistband of his shorts. “You think I don’t notice when you get hard around me? These don’t hide much, you know.”

Fuck.

#kacchako #hazel headcanons #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcanons #hazelkacchako

[coffee-latte-sprite]

Damian Al Ghul and the Annoying Reporter

Series Masterlist

AgedUp!damian al ghul x fem!reader

Chapter 9

WC: 2,500

Warnings: murder, feelings, high-key rom-com scene (they are in Paris, what do you expect?)

Synopsis:

Wanting to make a name for herself, Y/N does the unthinkable and tries to interview the heir to the League of Assassins. Although, it doesn’t go as planned. How will she be able to salvage this, especially when Damian Al Ghul doesn’t like strangers?

The trio continues their journey without a hitch. (For the most part.)

Y/N was caught in every single tourist trap there was in Italy, which was happily accompanied by her new camera. She had more photos of their adventures than of what the original purpose of the camera was for. 

They went to the colosseum, where “supposably” the movie Luca was inspired from, and Y/N tried to see the Pope. 

(They were escorted out) 

Damian was dragged everywhere, and stopped giving up a fight. He supposed going to a little “event’ for an hour was better than her complainning about not going for five hours. Titus was also loving everything as well. 

He was getting attention from everyone and getting free food from restaurants. He didn’t see many downsides. 

Then, as they move around the country, people start to give Y/N and Damian a label. 

A couple. 

Weather it be they were newly-weds, just dating, engaged, or married for a while (people thought this when they argued) they were labeled. One time they were eating out and people congratulated them on getting married. 

Y/N was so in shock she didn’t say anything for a solid ten minutes, while Damian immediately thanked them and went back to eating. 

Y/N was floored by Damian. He was okay with being mistakened as a couple? 

He just replied that it was harder to explain their relationship than just saying “thanks.” 

Besides, Damian didn’t care what others thought, he had other things he had to get done. Like getting Y/N out of Italy and into France. 

They took a train out of the country and into the other. They spent 16 hours on the train and in first class (as usual) and Y/N and Titus were getting stir crazy. 

They decided to try every dish the train had to offer, while Damain had a protein shake and a salad. 

He didn’t mind Y/N and Titus in the background enjoying themselves and constantly spending his money. He thought it would bother him, but as he saw her smile and heard her laugh, he had no issues. 

===

“Thank GOD we are off that train.” Y/N said as she stretched out her back on the train platform. Her suitcase was stationed at her feet while Titus was stretching out as well. 

Damian gave them a glance, “You were walking around the whole time. We had a whole car to yourself!” He said exasperated as he spent most of his time charting out their course. 

Y/N waved him off, “still to small.” 

He rolled his eyes as he picked up his bag and suitcase and started walking. 

“Wait up!” She yelled as she picked up her luggage as well. 

Damian unconsciously slowed as he pulled out a map of Paris. 

Y/N then let a smile grace her face. 

He was warming up to her. 

“Do you want to go to the hotel here, here, or here?” He asked her as he showed her the map of the city and pointed to the top 3 hotels. 

“Hmm.” She hummed as she looked at them. After the second city together, Damian started to ask for her opinion on many things. 

Where they would eat, where they would sleep, and what chew toys Titus would like. He didn’t understand why he began to ask for her opinion, but he enjoyed listening to it. 

(That is when he isn’t getting an earful because he messed up)

“How about this one.” She said as she pointed to the closest one to the station. 

“Great,” He said as he folded up the map and they began walking. 

They walked in silence and Y/N became hyper aware of everyone around them. All of the women were practically drooling over him and all of the men were getting out to the way. 

She then looked down at herself. She didn’t have the perfect body as those other women. She hasn’t had a shower in a couple of . . . days. And she knew she looked like a wreck as she has been having trouble sleeping. 

Then she looked at Damian. He was perfect. His hair didn’t seem out of place and his clothes didn’t look wrinkled. 

She started to run her hands through her hair to try and comb it out. 

Damian took notice, “What are you doing? Scared someone will reconize you?” He teased as he knew she was illegally traveling with him. 

She didn’t respond as she wsn’t sure how to answer, but before she could open her mouth. 

“You look fine. Don’t worry about it.” He siad as he kept walking. 

He didn’t look at her, but she knew he meant it. She smiled again, and he smiled back. 

===

“Can we please go?” She asked as she batted her lashes at him. 

Damian lowered the newspaper to let his eyes overlook the paper to see her staring at him. 

“No,” He replied as the newspaper flipped back up. 

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not?” 

He lowered the newspaper again, “It’s not time yet.” The newspaper went back up. 

“But they will close soon!” She yelled as she went back to her hotel bed and flopped onto it. 

“That’s what you think.” He said behind the paper. 

“What does that mean?” 

“You’ll see.” He said. 

As she opened her mouth again, there was a knock on the door. Y/N sprang up in surprise and Damian remained still. 

She whispered yelled to him, “Aren’t you going to do anything?” 

He answered normally, “Open it.” 

Anxiety ripped through her. 

“I’m right here, nothing will happen.” He said as his eyes came over the top of the paper. 

“Promise?” “Promise.” He repeated and went back to reading the French Press. 

She slowly got off the bed and tip-toed to the door. She looked around the room for the nearest weapon and saw a lamp. She nodded to herself. 

If this meeting goes South, she has a weapon. 

Titus was also acutely aware of the new presence behind the door and was ready to pounce from his bed at any moment. 

Y/N then looked through the peep-hole in the door to see a man dressed in hotel attire and a large flat box in his arms. 

She opened the door to see the man to look relieved. 

“Miss L/N, this is for you.” He said as he then gave her the box. She took and thanked the man as he quickly left. 

She looked at the box in confusion as she kicked the door closed and laid the box on the bed. 

“Do you think this could be a bomb?” She said as she looked at it in skeptism. 

“Titus is trained to smell for bombs, and he seems to be okay with it. So. . . no.” 

Y/N nodded as he opened the box very slowly. The thin cardboard opened to see tissue paper over the top. “Huh?” She said as she wasn’t expecting this. 

She took out the tissue paper and gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock and Damian jolted up from his seat in fear. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he strided over to her. 

She was scrambling for words as she began to scream-talk: “IT-IT--oh my GOD! IT’S BEAUTIFUL!” She then reached into the box to pull out a dress. It was a deep royal blue that was floor length. It was elegant as its silk fabric grazed her finger tips. As she pulled it out further, she noticed that around its shoulders was a cape that covered the back of the dress. 

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I-I-I don’t even know what to say!” She squealed as she held the dress up to herself and played with it. 

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried that-”

Y/N cut him short, “Wait, you bought this?” She asked in a shaky voice. 

“Yes, I saw how upset you were earlier. My mother always told me that when ever a woman is down on herself, she needs an elegant night out.” He quoted. 

Y/N blinked, once, twice. 

“Am I dead?” She asked as her arms went slack. 

“I am not that lucky.” He responded and went back to his chair by the window. 

“Wait, no seriously, are you feeling alright?” She asked as she went to his side and put the back of her hand to his forehead to feel his body heat. 

He huffed and gently pulled her hand away. “I am doing fine. The only health scare I have is you.” He then opened the newspaper. He was on the crossword puzzle. 

“But why would--WAIT! Are you planning on leaving me on the streets and leave me here?” She yelled as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and and pulled him to her as she shook him. “ANSWER ME!”

He then grabbed her hands and raised a brow, “No, I was going to leave you tomorrow when you were sleeping.” 

She screamed bloody-murder and Damian was sure he was deaf. 

===

Damian was kidding. He threw out the notion of leaving her behind as soon as she sprung to life after falling off the cliff. He realized that even inadvertently trying to kill her didn’t work, simply leaving her wouldn’t work either. 

And through his (very limited) experience of working with others, he decided to let himself relax into her. He stopped trying to fight and let them bind together. He gives, she takes, she gives (to Titus) and he takes. Ever since Rome, they fell into the gentle rythm of each other, and he didn’t mind it. 

It was (embarrassingly) to say, he began to enjoy her snarky remarks and sense of wonder and excitement of adventure. (Even if she was terrible at it) 

He liked waking up to see her in the other bed with messy hair, he liked coming back to her and seeing her playing with Titus. She stopped become a hindrance in his mind, to a necessity. 

And that scared him senseless. 

He didn’t relize how much she has wiggled into his life. He didn’t relize how many decisions he would make now that revolves around her input. 

He was scared so senseless he stopped caring about everything but her. 

And that is why they were together at the eiffel tower. He payed off the guards to let them come up to the top at night and they set up a little dinner table. Full of their favoirte foods. 

He was drinking wine as he watched Y/N’s eyes light up with glee as she looked at the city below. The soft glow of the night light made him hazy. Her bright smile made him weak. Her perfect laugh made him enamored. 

And as she looked back at him with that happy glow of hers, he knew then and there, he was screwed. Totally and utterly screwed. 

That was scarest moment of his life. 

“So, Mr. AlGhul, what do you want me to ask you first?” She asked as took a sample of the cheese platter near her. 

When did her voice sound so alluring? 

When did that dress make her look like a goddess? 

“Anything.” He said not registering her question. 

This was the arrangement he claimed for the “night out.” The only reason why they were staying together was the reason of her needing an interview with him. 

That is why they were having dinner together. Once this was over, they could safely part ways. 

No strings attached as they would say. 

“So,” she drawed out as she brought out a pencil and pad of paper. “When did you know you were the heir of the league?” 

“When I was born.” He deadpanned. 

She paused, “Not really what I meant. Here, let me rephrase: when did the pressure of being the heir hit you?”

“When I was born.” He repeated as he took a bite out of his dish. 

She scowled. “Come on, answer the question seriously.” 

“I am! As soon as I was born I was expected to not cry and stay silent when asked.” He said as a pain crossed his face. 

Y/N stayed silent, now feeling bad. “Isn’t that a little. . . insensitive?” She asaked. 

“Nothing I’m not used to.” He replied as he took another sip of wine. 

“So, have they changed since you were born?” She asked hoping for him to answer differently. 

“Yes.” he paused, “they got worse.” 

Y/N soured, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I handled it.” He stared off into the distance. 

They continued their interview for hours. Their questions got lighter and their connection deepened. 

Y/N then relized how funny he was and relized how her heart quickened when his attention was only on her. 

When did that happen? 

===

Y/N was quickly asleep when they got back to the hotel room. She changed and snuggled under the covers with Titus. She thanked him again for the night out and interview. 

Damian was content with his life now. 

He then changed out of his suit and into another. His League of Assassin uniform. 

He tied his suit tight and a black cloth wrapped around his face, leaving only his eyes while his katana was joined at his hip. 

He had ulterior motives to coming to Paris and not going straight to the ferry to get them to the UK. He had one more loose end he had to cut. 

Ubu. One of Slade’s minions who was there to take down the league. 

Damian went swiftly through the night as people dismissed him as a shadow or a trick of the light. 

He was precise in his moves as his blade cut through his victim. He was seamless in his plan as he made a symbol out of his victim and lept back into the darkness where his heart broke once again. 

He was no good. 

He was a monster. 

He was the perfect serial killer. 

He looked at his hands as ruby red covered his skin. This is what he truly is. 

He isn’t a son of Bruce Wayne, but the son of a asylum, trapping him forever in his clutches. 

He looked down at his hotel window from above. Why would he ever let her into his life? Why would he allow himself into her life? Why would he allow himself to fall prey to her? 

Why in world, would he break the number one rule his mother had? 

“Never have attachments. They make you weak.”

Why in the Hell would he let himself fall like this, especially when it hurt this much. 

His heart was breaking. His soul was falling apart at the seams at all of the relizations. 

She deserved someone better. 

He fell to his knee as he clasped his chest. It hurt. It all hurt. 

He bit his lip in frustration at himself. His throat bobbed with a sting. It hurt. 

Then as he gasped for air to stop his tears as he realized, he was in love. 

A/N: "oh wow, I finally got this out :|" Anyway- thank you for your patience!!

@royalmuffinsworld / @rory-cakess / /@jasontoddsloverrrr / @rivas0309 / @giselatropicana / @atlaincorrect / @acupnoodle / @geeksareunique / @1-800-cherri / @mymomsdisappointment / @lolsnack / @dreamsdemxn / @hollyharper / @bl6o6dy

#damian wayne fluff #damian wayne headcannon #older damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #damien wayne #older damian wayne x reader #older!damian wayne imagine #older!damian wayne #older damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne blurb #damian wayne fanart #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian x reader

[arcplaysgames]

didn’t you keep saying you didn’t even like p4g when playing? how is p5r worse? genuine question. is it the pacing/characters/story?

cw: P5R negativity, fans might wanna skip this

I think you missed my final round-ups on P4G because outside very specific criticisms (Izanami being bad writing, the P4MC being an anchor around the throat of the game, and JESUS FUCK THE MUSIC WAS SO BAD) I was overall pretty positive on P4G. It has ups and downs, but the ups far outweigh the downs. I think if you check this blog with /tagged/p4 you'll find my two big Final Thoughts posts. I honestly think P4G gets a bad wrap. I'd give it a final score of, like, 7 out of 10.

It's just not Persona 3 Portable Girl Route, which I still maintain is the best scenario writing and some of the best character writing of the series, and I think the structure is much more solid. Also the music is the best I've heard yet.

P5R, I am currently doing the Kaneshiro Arc and I have recruited Makoto. My issue with P5R is probably three-fold.

One: I think that the cast is dramatically weaker than P4 and P3. Like, I'm kind of shocked at how weak the cast is. So far I like Morgana the most, but I think it was my friend Bane who pointed out that Morgana tends to be a very divisive character because he's such a strong character compared to everyone else. Me, I need this. I desperately need this because I think Ryuji and Ann feel incredibly weak, and while I am thrilled to have Yusuke, he's.... like mid-tier. For P5 he's godtier but he's mid-tier for P4 or P3.

I was talking to a friend and basically said that this game fails the Homestuck Rule of Writing, honestly. Like, when you are writing really distinct characters, one of the best shortcuts is to just.... make them passionate in uncool ways. Give them weird hobbies your audience probably will not share, but let the level of passion they have make them feel stronger.

Like, Chie is obsessed with kung fu, Akihiko and Shinjiro have a running fight about protein vs vegetables that's really funny, and Kanji just keeps a sewing kit on him and will fix people's hems on the street. Remember when Junpei met a gothic lolita girl by the train station who was making art in her own blood and was like "haha awesome you seem cool! Wanna hang out?"

God, I miss Junpei every day.

So far, honestly? No one in P5R passes the Homestuck Test. I keep complaining I need some weirdos and that's what I mean. I am kind of just "ugh" on this idea of "oh so and so gets better" but like. No one in P3 and P4 needed to "get better" (okay except Yukari but her arc fucking rocked).

Two: The technical quality of the writing of this game is so much worse than P3 and P4 imo. It's something i have a hard time explaining and I'm to a point I have just given up on even cataloging it because it feels like I'm complaining about something small, but it's a small thing that keeps happening over and over and over and over, until it's just this overall severe lack of polish to the entire game. Which, when I am dealing with a game that feels as overproduced and maximalist as P5R, having the actual script be this rough in a way that was easily fixable with another pass is just a rock in my shoe.

Three: I am severely fucking torn on the entire concept of Joker. In a way, Joker feels like a direct answer to my biggest criticism of P4G, that the MC was such a non-character, a complete void with nothing to balance the story on, a problem so severe that by midway through, P4G was about Yosuke instead of P4MC. And that sucks. Having a MC with no impetus, only reaction, just didn't suit the structure of P4G.

Now, we have Joker, who frankly is a great character who addresses those complaints perfectly. He has an easily detectable personality, he has more frequent and more interesting dialogue choices, he has quirks and oddities, and he has a compelling backstory that lends itself to the core themes and mysteries of the game.

Except: the Gay Options have been removed.

I was able to play P4G as a homogay from start to finish, which frankly softened some of my anger about the entire experience. Not to be flippant, but Reverie The Fourth's only traits were "calm dude" and "fuckin GAY".

After how queer P4G was, the complete absence of that in P5R is.... isolating and disappointing. It's something I am pushing through but the game's repeated calls for rebellion and pushing against what people think of you feels trite with how relentlessly cishet it all is.

At the end of the day, at the moment, I consider P5R easily the weakest of the Big Three. Maybe my opinion will change! But at the moment it's really not getting better.

I was talking to a friend and I think that the Perfect Persona Game would be

fully gender neutral protagonist, just don't refer to their gender at all, don't gate anything around gender, just don't

the setting of P5R

the cast of P4 or P3

Frankly if you gave me the same game, Persona 5 Royal, but inserted SEES or the Investigation Team, you would have the fucking greatest modern Persona game.

#Anonymous #persona liveblog #p3p #p4 #p5 #criticism

[bonefall]

I don’t think you were mean about cat genetics at all tbh! It’s one of my special interests but I didn’t feel insulted. Honestly if you used actual cat genetics for WC, the characters end up being either ginger, black tabby, or tortoiseshell after a couple of generations. that’s super boring! All the Tigerstar clones wouldn’t even look like Tigerstar! where is the Drama!

though it would be funny in one instance: Nightheart would be a ginger tabby, so he would actually look like Firestar, lmao.

I DIDNT WANT TO SAY IT BECAUSE IVE BEEN TRYING NOT TO BE INSULTING!!

But like I kept thinking, "after a few generations they're ginger, tabby, and tortie and that's boring :(" and I didn't want to be mean!!

I just wanna draw Bluestar's family as doggies man

I'm way more interested in stuff like, how cat taste buds are controlled by two genetics that prevent a specific kind of protein folds, which is why they can't taste sweet or spice, y'know? Or how human hands have a dominant gene to put them on backwards and it's how some geneologists explain how Dominant doesn't mean Definite.

Genes ARE cool I simply don't like using them for my kitty designs

Anyway Nightheart has orange on him and this is a fact because it's funny <3

#I keep thinking about the horse thing now btw #As an unintended consequence of this #What if Windrunner had the white appaloosa horse butt #Also also im sorry but like what WOULD the cast look like with horse genetics #I think it would actually be fascinating if someone like divided up the clans into horse breeds and then tracked-- #--the ability of each cat according to horse genetics #Is there a tabby/ginger/tortie problem with horse colors? #What would cats look like with horse colors #Are there orange horses?? #Or are there just that pretty seal brown type with the orange bellies? #Bone babble #Gene Acidpool (just to be safe!!)

[taeyamayang]

HOME | CHARACTER DETAILS | VER. 1.0

BUGS FIXED:

♡ new characters are released!

♡ when a character gains a red heart a consequent benefit to y/n will occur. this is will be further explored in the next updates.

POLL RESULT:

♡ Join the Band

taglist: @thechaosoflonging @alienvarmint @phoenix666stuff @citrustsuki

ㅡspecial thanks to my beta reader @shut-up-you-guys-are-12 u the real mvp my bro <33

YOUR PLACE OR MINE?

Loading Version Update 2.0

What did you get yourself into?!

Joining a college band might not be a big deal to most but to you, who has never sung with a live band on stage, the idea itself weakens your knees. There’s no turning back now. You already said yes to Atsumu and Bokuto without even getting acquainted with the other members of the band. What is it with you and your impulsiveness? 

To be fair, most of your impulsive decisions lead to great opportunities like a seat in Tokyo University. Typically, you would never have dared to think about passing the entrance exam, let alone think about taking the test but since the idea of attending the same University as your best friend, Daichi, is too good to put aside, you dove in without thinking. 

The woman in her late fifties seals your ordered food in a box and hands it over to you, consequently pulling your wandering thoughts back to reality.  “What else do you want?” she asks as soft wrinkles fold around the corner of her mouth. 

“I’ll take another serving of this, please. Thank you.” You politely say pointing at the protein next to other dishes. 

Since you're eating with Daichi, you make a mental note to order an extra dish to share. The woman packs it in a separate container before giving it to you. You pay her an exact amount then take your leave. 

Daichi texted you a few minutes before you arrived at the cafeteria that he had found a seat for the both of you. His class before lunch must have ended early. It did not take you long to find Daichi eating his bento at one of the tables next to an aisle. He doesn't see you until you’re hovering over him with a face contorted into an expression far from the confidence you showed this morning. 

“What’s up?” He utters between bites. Before you begin, you place the food box across from Daichi, pulling the plastic chair to the back of your knees as you sit. Just when you thought words would naturally form sentences, you are silenced by inner dilemma.

Daichi lets out an airy laugh, "You gotta say something, you know." He pops a mouthful of food into his mouth. He continues. "And eat."

Obliging, you open the containers in front of you. The moisture stuck to the roof of the box slides to your food, and you take this as a sign that it's getting cold. Hence, you pick up the utensils and give half of the protein to your friend. In return, he puts home cooked stir fried vegetables on top of your rice. 

"I have decided on an extracurricular." It's easier to speak when you're not looking at him in his eyes.

"Yeah? What is it?" He munches on the protein you gave him and nods to himself in satisfaction. He glances at you when a beat of silence once again falls between the two of you. However, right before you could open your mouth to explain, the loud bang of a fist slamming into a table resonates in the cafeteria full of students.

Everyone instantly turns their heads at the source and sees a figure, familiar to you, with their back at you. His fists were balled up so angrily that the veins on his arms became visible. 

"Isn't that your teammate?" Worry etches on your face. You can't remember his name but you have met him a couple of times before at the pool when you watch the swim team's practice. A snarky voice draws your attention back to the scene. 

"A-re? Watch your attitude, Tobio." He wears a pair of glasses, lanky and overtowering in stature, and his pale blonde hair was tied back into a half-bun. Strands of hair stick out to the sides of his face giving him that ‘disheveled on purpose’ appearance. When Tobio doesn't respond to his taunt, a sly smile dances on his thin lips. 

This is like watching alpha predators fighting over a territory on Animal Planet. As interesting as it is to you, you're concerned that the heat will take them to a fist fight.

"They have a bad history. I don't know much about it but I know two things. One, they went to the same high school and two, your food will turn stale if you keep sticking your nose in someone else's business. Eat." Daichi gestures to your food using a utensil in his hand.

"Aren't you worried they might end up punching each other? This looks intense." You whisper, afraid either of the two will catch on to you talking about them even though they're tables away from you. 

"No. Kageyama has his mind set on making it to Japan's National Team. The last thing he wants on his record is a disciplinary action for violence. They won't do anything drastic. Trust me, I've seen them really heated, and pushing each other on the chest is the worst they ever got into. Coach warned Kageyama and he learned his lesson." 

Daichi is right because as soon as he assures you, the blonde with a messy bun strides past you. He catches onto the quick turn of your head in his peripheral vision, making him glance at you briefly. It was barely more than a second but meeting the icy golden brown eyes behind the specs is enough to put you on the edge. 

"You were saying?" Daichi, who seemed clueless of the fleeting interaction you had with Tobio's archenemy, motions for you to continue.

"I'm kind of part of a band now." You take a huge bite on your food to stall.

"Really? What's the band's name?" Daichi pauses to look at you, his hand tightening on his pair of chopsticks

"The Labyrinths." His reaction is immediate, both brows pulling upward, his eyes rounding, and his jaw slackening. 

“The Labyrinths?” He asks as though to confirm if he had heard you correctly. You nod and repeat, 

“Yep, The Labyrinths.” Daichi blinks at you repeatedly, dropping his utensils diagonally over the bento box.

“Why is there a problem with them?”

“No, it’s just…wow. They’re really good. Everyone predicted their win last season since the only other contestant even close, the Four Seasons guys, weren’t nearly up to par with them. Fortunately for the other bands that year, The Labyrinths mysteriously dropped out from the competition at the last second, right before the grand finals.”

“So they were not able to perform?”

“Yes. They were already setting up the stage when the one with the blonde hair…” Daichi squinted his eyes trying to recall the name of the person he’s describing. You fill it in for him upon realizing who he is referring to.

“Atsumu Miya?” 

“Yeah, Atsumu. He approached the event organizer to tell them they couldn't perform that night. He didn’t look good either, I mean, he had this nasty looking bruise on his cheek.” Invested in the story, you lean your body forward as your brows furrow in the center of your forehead. 

“What happened?”

“That…I don’t know. No one knows the real reason behind it. None of the band members spoke about it. But all rumors point to Atsumu and their previous vocalist having disagreements, because it wasn't a few days after the competition, that their vocalist left the group. From that point on, The Labyrinths have performed as an instrumental group.”

“Oh.” Is all you could say as you sink back in your seat. After learning all this information makes you feel unsure how to act in front of the members when you meet them for a trial. You quietly wish it won’t be as awkward as you think it would be. 

 You’re with Daichi majority of the time, so you’re mostly up to date with all the rumors in the University which makes you think, “How did I not know this?” 

“Well, that was time you ditched me. I had two tickets for the band competition, remember?” Jogging your memory, you feel a tinge of guilt tickling your chest.

You groan, rather dramatically. “Ugh! I had a project due the following day!” 

Back then, you were eighty percent done with it so you promised Daichi to attend the event with him but when your professor gave out the grading criteria on the day of the event, you were worried that your work wouldn't be good enough to get a decent grade. In the end, you had to apologize to Daichi for ditching him last minute.

Now that you recall why you’re out of the loop in the The Labyrinth scandal, you also remember that Daichi invited a girl in his class instead. He was proud to tell you how gorgeous his last minute date was and jokingly thanked you for ditching him.

“But if I hadn't ditched you, you wouldn’t have been able to go on a date with a girl from your class. How is she by the way? I haven't heard about her since then.”

For some reasons unknown to you, Daichi cringes his nose as the memory flashes in his mind. “I lied to you.” He confesses. “There was no date.”

“What?” You ask in disbelief. Why would Daichi, a straight up goody two shoes, lie about something like this?

“I was disappointed you couldn’t come with me when I was looking forward to it for a week straight. Practice was hell and the only motivation I had to push through was the idea of spending that time with you.” Daichi turns away, chewing on the insides of his cheek as his face dusts in pink. 

He has always been honest with you but never has he been this forward when it comes to expressing his feelings. His words are usually detached from his emotions. Instead of saying -“I miss you”- he would say, -“It’s been awhile since we last saw each other”- and instead of, -“I don’t want you to catch a cold”- he would say, “You should take care of your health.” 

You know that he cares for you, and that he sees you as a friend closer than anybody, but you were not aware that your absence would cause him to feel so dejected. He has always been independent, so you were not needed most of the time ㅡ you felt that he could enjoy anything, even without you there. 

Lunch went on with Daichi changing the topic to swim practice and other matters. However, seeing him bashful over his honest confession still rests at the back of your mind. You know all too well that this will keep you up at night.

It isn’t long till the sun begins to dim its rays, and brighten its hue, spreading the warmth of sunset over the soccer field and through the glass windows. It is a sight to see, a comforting feeling accompanied by a sense of accomplishment nestled in your mind as you are left to your thoughts, recounting the events that happened today. It was a productive day, indeed.

You sit next to a window in your last class for today, peering through the window as you watch the soccer team execute drills. You were so immersed watching ant-like humans run across the field that you didn’t notice a person sitting next to you. It was when the nagging feelings of an unmoving gaze shooting at you-like a ghost behind you waiting to be noticed that you turned to look. 

He was equally surprised as you when your eyes metㅡhim embarrassed that you caught him staring, on the other hand, you were shocked to see a recognizable face. 

“Have we met?” You ask even though you’re almost entirely certain that he’s the guy from this morning, the one you accidentally bumped into. The fringe over his eyes is too remarkable to forget. 

“Uhm, y-yes, I think.” He stutters, shifting his eyes to somewhere but you. 

“I’m sorry about this morning. I was careless-”

He cuts you off and rambles. “It’s no big deal, it’s fine. The hallways are packed in the morning so it’s fairly understandable to cause an accident such as bumping into someone and messing with their stuff.” 

‘Messing with their stuff’ he phrases it as if you’ve done something grave, instead of just knocking a couple of pens on the floor. Nonetheless, you find him adorable. 

“I’m (y/n).” You introduce yourself to a potential new friend for the new semester. “What’s your name?”

He swallows thickly, looking at your hand spread out waiting for a handshake before pushing his glasses back to the top of his nose bridge. “Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Nice to meet you, Kuroo.”

“You too.” He responds rigidly, holding the ends of your fingers into a gentle handshake. You assumed that he might not be the best with small talk, so you decide to carry the conversation.

“What do you major in?” Turning your body to face his direction so he’d take the cue that you’re willing to know more about him.

“History.”

A one-word reply. He really isn’t the best with small talks.

“Cool! I'm majoring in Anthropology. I guess we fall under the same department, huh?” You show him a smile that reaches your eyes in hopes that would make him feel comfortable around you.

Shortly, the professor comes in with a ringed binder in his hand. Which only means either a take home task or a class activity...on the first day of the new semester? You can already tell that this class won’t let you off the hook easily and you already feel tired just thinking about it. 

He begins the class by introducing himself, his credentials as an instructor, and spared the students the chore of introducing themselves one by one. As you predicted, as soon as he flips the cover of the bound material open, he starts explaining the details of a pair work assignment.

“The number of students enrolled in this class is uneven so some of you have to be grouped into three. You will stick to this grouping for the rest of the semester. If you have issues with your groupmates later on during the semester you either have to submit a peer review or deal with it like young adults. You’re not kids anymore. Deal with it like responsible students.” He spoke in a firm and authoritative manner. 

Kuroo turns to you sheepishly and unexpectedly he asks. “Do you want to pair up with me?” 

You’re glad that he finally initiated a conversation. At least you know that he’s interested in you too, (even if only in the sense of a project partner.) “Sure!”

“The last pair to announce their names will be automatically assigned to a group of three.” Instantly, hands fly to the air eager to be called by the professor. Kuroo raises his hand timidly so that it only reaches the height of his head hence the professor couldn’t see him through impatient hand raises. 

While the professor is busy jotting down names of pairings in class, a student excuses himself late by the door. As if this day couldn't get anymore eventful, for the second time around this day, you met the same icy golden brown eyes from the cafeteria. Kageyama’s foe. He bows at the professor as an apology before rushing to an empty seat.

Kuroo speaks, announcing your name and his name under group M. 

“You’re in the last group, Kuroo and…(y/n).” The professor reads your name on the classlist and whips his head to look at you. “You automatically take the triad which means you’ll be in the same group with Tsukishima Kei.” His eyes point to the person sitting at the back, the same person you saw in the cafeteria, and the same person late for class. 

Tsukishima looks at the both of you, studying your expressions with intensity before nodding at the professor in agreement. A barely audible groan is uttered from Kuroo as though he was punched in the stomach after glancing at Tsukishima. “I don’t feel good about this.”

You want to comfort him by saying it won’t be that bad, but how could you say such a thing when even you don’t believe it fully. Tsukishima had left you with a bad impression after seeing the confrontation between him and Kageyama. Now you have to work with him for the entire semester? 

The professor gives out the details of the first project that has to be turned in on Friday. After listing down the criteria and answering questions from the class, he leaves the remaining ten minutes to the students to discuss arrangements.

Kuroo begins by asking you where and when you want to do the said project. He asks for your schedule so he could list down the hours you’re both free. You glance at Tsukishima who’s busy on his phone. He doesn’t make any effort to leave his seat and cooperate with planning when it’s obvious enough that you’re shooting him inviting gazes, which ultimately draws you to a conclusion that he is purposely ignoring the two of you. 

Maybe Kuroo is right, this does sound like bad news. 

“This is hard. We can only brainstorm after classes. Where should we do it?” Kuroo may not be a conversationalist but he does well when it involves planning. He continues. “We can finish the project at my place but…” 

“But?” You ask.

“I have a roommate. Though I’m pretty sure Kenma won’t mind, he doesn't get out of his room most of the time anyways. But then again there’s Akaashi who visits often and…” His voice fades into a whisper as though he’s talking to himself rather than to you. His thumb scratches his chin, as he considers variables unknown to you. When he notices his drifting thoughts, he immediately directs his attention back to you. “My roommate wouldn't mind, but you might not be comfortable visiting a stranger’s place, which I would understand.”

Cafes are not budget friendly especially if projects such as this require frequent meet-ups. Hence, you are torn between offering your place or taking the easy route by agreeing to do the projects at his place. Do you trust Kuroo or would you rather clean your place every now and then when he plans to meet up?

welp, now that's a tough one. if i were y/n i would have tossed a coin but nahhh i'm here to make things difficult mehe >:)

...to make things interesting ofc ;)

LOVE METER

Daichi Sawamura: 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Atsumu Miya: 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Kuroo Tetsurou: 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tsukishima Kei: 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

?: 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

btw, HERE IS THE POLL!!

masterlist

#haikyuu!! #hq fic #hq fics #hq interactive fic #hq romance #hq fanfic #daichi sawamura #atsumu miya #tsukishima kei #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu daichi #daichi x reader #hq daichi #daichi x y/n #hq atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x y/n #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x y/n #kuroo fluff #tsukishima fluff #daichi fluff #atsumu fluff #pea.writes