#Functional Genomics

[autodidacticpolymath-blog]

A Policy arm @ Cambridge had VERY interesting use of "confidential" patient data for Genomic & Medical Research during and post COVID.

20 15 Pathogen genomics into practice Data sharing to support UK clinical genetics and genomics services Genetic screening programmes: an international review of assessment criteria 2017 Personalised prevention in breast cancer – the policy landscape Developing effective ctDNA testing services for lung cancer Linking and sharing routine health data for research Variant classification and…

[markscherz]

Quick, while the frog purists aren't looking, what's your favorite salamander?

No question, salamanders of the genus Thorius, the smallest salamanders in the world.

[Thorius pennatulus — src]

[Thorius sp. — src]

Truly astonishing creatures.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[faultfalha]

The Solanum americanum genome has been used to discover immune receptors that detect potato late blight pathogen effectors. The discovery could lead to the development of new, more effective ways to fight the late blight pathogen.

[wilwheaton]

Scientists at UC Riverside have demonstrated a new, RNA-based vaccine strategy that is effective against any strain of a virus and can be used safely even by babies or the immunocompromised.  Their flu vaccine will also likely be delivered in the form of a spray, as many people have an aversion to needles. “Respiratory infections move through the nose, so a spray might be an easier delivery system,” Hai said. Additionally, the researchers say there is little chance of a virus mutating to avoid this vaccination strategy. “Viruses may mutate in regions not targeted by traditional vaccines. However, we are targeting their whole genome with thousands of small RNAs. They cannot escape this,” Hai said. Ultimately, the researchers believe they can ‘cut and paste’ this strategy to make a one-and-done vaccine for any number of viruses. “There are several well-known human pathogens; dengue, SARS, COVID. They all have similar viral functions,” Ding said. “This should be applicable to these viruses in an easy transfer of knowledge.”

Vaccine breakthrough means no more chasing strains

This is HUGE. This will fundamentally change how we get inoculated.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Do you have a snoot noodle or other variation of sighthound? If yes, there’s new heart health research for the breed happening!

A researcher at Texas A&M whose work I’m familiar with is starting a new study looking at genetic factors contributing to heart disease in Borzoi and related breeds. They just put out a call for dog owners who are willing to submit saliva samples & (noodle) medical records. Studies like this need a big sample size! They’re accepting new sign-ups starting now until March 1, 2025, for dogs both in the US and internationally.

Let’s help make some science!

From the study page:

“Background and purpose

Recent research in Borzoi dogs has revealed that dogs of this breed experience sudden, unexplained death. About 85% of sudden, unexplained deaths in humans are linked to an underlying heart disease. Our existing research in Borzoi dogs has shown that they are predisposed to developing arrhythmias (abnormal heart rhythms) and dilated cardiomyopathy (a heart muscle disease causing dilated heart chambers and weak pumping function).

Due to our documentation of the frequency of these conditions in Borzoi dogs, we seek to identify responsible genetic variations similar to what is seen in humans with electrical cardiac diseases that trigger arrhythmias and dilated cardiomyopathy.

The objective of our study is to identify genetic mutations associated with heart disease in Borzoi dogs and document their existence in other sighthound breeds.

What happens in this study

We are collecting saliva samples from both healthy Borzoi and Borzoi dogs affected with arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. We will also collect saliva samples from any other sighthound breeds.

We will extract DNA from these samples and perform genomic sequencing on a select number while retaining the remainder for further screening.By analyzing the sequencing data, we can compare the genes of healthy and affected Borzoi dogs and identify variants linked to their heart conditions. We will also compare the findings in Borzoi dogs to results from other sighthound breeds.

Pet owner responsibilities

A swab kit will be sent to you for at home use along with a link to an instructional video on how to properly obtain a swab of the mouth. The kit will contain equipment to collect the saliva swab, a history form for your pet, a client consent form and a shipping label to return samples to us.

Participation requirements

To participate, you must have a Borzoi dog or a sighthound breed that is either healthy or affected by arrhythmias and/or dilated cardiomyopathy. Pets may be any age or sex. Electronic or paper veterinary medical records will need to be provided.

Benefits and risks of participating

There is little to no risk for taking a brief swab of the mouth for saliva collection if procedures outlined in the video are followed. No individual genetic test results will be provided to study participants.

Compensation

There is no cost to the owner for participating in this study. No compensation will be provided.”

[hellsitegenetics]

just wanna say i love the contrast between this blog and @hellsite-proteins. Here the results are always a lovely surprise! Whether a post is an obscure bacteria or a creature amusingly related to its post, it's always a treat to see what kind of funny little thing a post may be. In contrast, hellsite-proteins' results almost always have a chaotic tone to them (affectionate). Unnecessarily long and stringy loops everywhere. i cheer when a protein is actually, confidently functional. the differing moods of each blog is amusing

String identified: t aa a t ctat t t g a @t-t. t t a aa a ! t a t a c acta a cat ag at t t t, t' aa a tat t at tt tg a t a . ctat, t-t' t at aa a a catc t t t (actat). ca g a tg . c a t acta, ct cta. t g ac g ag

Closest match: Boloria euphrosyne genome assembly, chromosome: 27 Common name: Pearl-bordered fritillary

(image source)

[maddymoreau]

Garten of Banban 0 Discussion:

To understand Chapter 0, first we have to go over Banban's backstory. Mind you everything in it happened to this little guy:

Longer Analysis on Banban: Click Here

Summarizing the reports:

Banban, Case #6, was created. He is able to recall memories and events belonging to his original genome donor, Dr. Uthman Adam. He also has an identical level of intelligence and is capable of speaking as fluently as the original genome donor.

However, Banban doesn't recognize himself as a non-human. When addressed as a non-human, he is confused. Even when presented with a mirror, Banban still sees himself as Dr. Uthman Adam.

A meeting between Banban and his human genome donor is arranged. During this, Banban became extremely agitated and attempted to attack Dr. Uthman Adam.

After this Banban refused to communicate with anyone outside Dr. Weverly Mason. However, this request was denied.

From there, Banban's mental state became unstable. He was placed in solitary since he'd attack anyone and anything that attempted to approach him. Along with not respond to any instructions delivered through speakers.

Whenever released from solitary, he'd stay huddled in the corner of his chamber, pacing around his room, and whispering to himself "Givanium", "Pancreas", "Weverly", and "Uthman".

To help Banban, Case #7 Banbaleena, was created to encourage cooperation. Although not hostile towards Banbaleena, Banban's rebellious behavior remained unchanged.

So they used a newly-modified Givanium solution on Banban which was engineered to lower the functions of self-thinking. The results weren't what they expected, and instead, it caused Banban to fall victim to his primitive instincts, AKA his Devil Form. This Devil Form would be referred to as Case #6B.

At the start of Chapter 0 there's a vote. All the scientists, excluding Syringeon, voted to have Banban repurposed for parts and replaced. This was primarily due to Banban's inability to control himself.

However, since Banban the mascot, is such a crucial role in Banban's Kindergarten, instead of completely getting rid of the character, they planned to remake Banban.

Which would be Case #6C, Flumbo.

Syringeon and Banban didn't want that to happen.

So, during Chapter 0, while waiting for the results of the voting Banban gained Flumbo's trust: More detailed explanation here.

After the voting results came in and revealed Banban would be replaced. Syringeon came up with the plan for Flumbo to "accidentally" be killed by the Experiment Ramamba.

It's somewhat implied that the Ramamba was (partially) made using the Givanium blob that Syringeon took:

Syringeon informs Banban of his plan however Syringeon can't be there during it. So Banban later lures Flumbo to where he'll be killed lying that he has a surprise for him. Things don't go according to the plan since Nabnab sacrifices himself to save Flumbo.

Ramamba eats Kittysaurus, Bittergiggle, and Nabnab.

Before this, all the human Scientists were evacuated from the area. This was due to earthquakes causing something to break making the tranquilizing gas leak. The earthquakes were most likely caused by Ramamba due to its large size.

It was important to make sure no Scientists were around since the Experiments aren't supposed to be out:

The Scientists care so little about the Experiments that they left a baby Bittergiggle to die when evacuating, who Flumbo saves.

(BITTERGIGGLE'S FACE IS KILING ME 😂😭 I LOVE IT!!!!)

Banban later transforms into his Devil Form which helps him kill Ramamba and save everyone (including those eaten).

Afterwards, Banban thinks that maybe the scientists are right about him needing to be repurposed, but changes his mind. Banban desperately wants to live so he does something horrible . . .

Banban, who considers himself the group's leader, suggests another game of hide and seek. Banban takes Flumbo to his best hiding spot, tricks Flumbo, and locks him in a closet.

Banban makes the decision to focus on moving forward instead of fixating on what he's done to Flumbo:

Banban: "Best not to dwell on the past and only focus on the future."

Here no one will be able to find Flumbo, resulting in him being LOCKED UP THIS ENTIRE TIME!!!! Which is extra devastating when you consider Flumbo viewed Banban as his friend!!!

With Flumbo gone, they HAVE to use and keep Banban around. Especially with all the money invested into Banban and the Kindergarten's release date quickly approaching.

Hence, why a lot of the decorations in the Kindergarten have Flumbo's name, but Banban's face.

In the meantime Syringeon is secretly working on creating a cure for Banban's issue with controlling his primitive instincts.

Fun detail: Banban repeats Syringeon's words in Chapter 4:

It's unclear WHY but Syringeon is heavily invested in Banban.

Throughout Chapter 0 it's shown Syringeon has secretly been working with Banban. While the other Experiments like Banbaleena are scared of Syringeon. Since he takes away their friends and are afraid they're going to be next.

Banban plays this middle man roll "scaring" Syringeon off and saying:

Banban: "I've managed to scare him away this time, as I'm sure you saw. And as long as I am around, I always will."

Banbaleena: "How many more of us will he snatch and take away?! It's only a matter of time before it's my turn!"

Banban: "I'll make sure that never happens."

There's also a secret area where Flumbo can meet a baby Slow Seline!! Who talks about seeing visions of the future featuring the Player and Flumbo together. Along with unknowingly predicting that he'd be locked away by Banban.

Other fun details: Tarta Bird is Case #21, Syringeon helped create Banban, Flumbo gave Banbaleena her bow, NABNAB HUGGING FLUMBO, Banban calls Nabnab his best friend, Banban gave Banbaleena flowers (they were plastic mushrooms lol), Banban says Truffletoot is one of the few cases that he truly considers a friend, AND TRUFFLETOOT WAS SO CUTE!!!!

Banban's little nubs ARE HIS EARS??!!!

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 BITING - Part 4

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy, political and ideals conflict). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 4,5k

Masterlist - Request a fic

In the bioluminescent glow of Pandora’s night, Jake Sully stood at the forest's edge, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The vibrant nature around him buzzed with life, yet an unsettling turmoil brew within him. As olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya and Toruk Makto, he had faced countless challenges, but none as perplexing as the transformation unfolding before him.

Celeste, a human who had become an integral part of their clan, was undergoing a metamorphosis that defied all understanding. Eywa had blessed her union with his son, yet the consequences were unprecedented. To say that the news of Celeste’s pregnancy sent shockwaves through both the scientists and the People would be an understatement. A tawtute woman carrying the offspring of a Na’vi? It was far beyond imagination. The avatar bodies—engineered through terrestrial brilliance, blending both genomes in just the right sequence to function under Pandora’s conditions—were compatible with the natives. Little Socorro was only human, though—kind of. Her body was changing, adapting in ways that blurred the lines between Earthborn and Pandoran.

The man’s mind raced with questions in the nighttime peace, hugging his half-sleeping wife in one of their occasional getaways from responsibilities and worries. Though this one was hard to forget even for an evening. “This isn’t like what happened to us,” he said, suddenly, breaking the silence of sweet slumber, thinking about Spider’s sister seated in the shade of their kelku, her hands resting on her growing belly. “I was logged in my avatar when we mated. I was Na’vi, physically. But her? There’s no scientific explanation.”

After the commute at the Tree of Souls, the clan split in two. Some supported the child as a sign of mutual prosperity, a miracle meant to exist in the balance of the world. Others, however, labeled it an ill omen, a violation of the natural order, feared what they couldn’t understand.

“It is not natural.” “Eywa may have allowed the union, but this... this is wrong.”

Jake had heard it all before. The same fright, the same resistance to change that had nearly torn the Omatikaya apart when colonizers first came back to Pandora. But this time, he got that fright. Because deep down, beneath his duty as olo’eyktan and his instinct to protect his family, he felt it too. As wild as the perennial torment that the two sides of his very identity instilled in him.

“There is no scientific explanation for Eywa,” Neytiri stated, her voice serious, resolute just as it always was when faith and Na’vi culture were at stake. It was a conviction he has never fully embraced. The need to rely on science, on logic, on the knowable, was an earthly instinct he could never entirely cast aside. That lifeline—the belief that there was a reason behind everything, something demonstrable, classifiable, repeatable—was still a part of him. Neytiri might have agreed that there was a universal design, but her understanding of it was vastly different from his. Less analytical, less tangible than the laws of physics and biology, but to her, no less real. Perhaps, in some ways, even more so.

“It’s as much a mystery as Kiri conception.” “Not of the same scale, though.”  “We must trust the Great Mother nonetheless.” Jake exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. “Trusting her is one thing. Convincing the People...”

He was right. There was division among them. Leadership weighed heavily on his tired shoulders, and the safety of his loved ones, of Celeste and the baby, depended on the decisions he would make in the coming months. As the night creatures sang their melodies, Jake took a troubled breath, seeking clarity. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of doubt piercing his resolve. This wasn’t just about Celeste; it was about what she was becoming and what it would have meant for all of them. He knew Pandora. He had lived, fought, loved, and lost for this world. And he knew that when the Great Mother acted, it was always on purpose, even when it felt like uncharted territory.

It started subtly; Celeste first noticed it in quiet moments—when the dizziness from exertion subsided faster than it should have, when her heartbeat, once erratic in Pandora's dense atmosphere, slowed into a steady rhythm, perfectly in tune with the nature around her. Insects that normally avoided humans drifted closer during her strollings in the forest, as if sensing that she was no longer a regular alien walking in their world. Plants reacted to her touch, sending a pleasant tingling along her fingertips. Gradually, her senses were heightening beyond the limits of her species. She could hear animals weaving through the luscious vegetation, their calls reaching her feeble ears in way they never should have.

But then, the changes became undeniable She didn’t need the mask anymore.

The moment had come without fanfare. Celeste sat at the edge of a clearing, absentmindedly sketching in her notebook as the sun warmed her skin. Tuk sat beside her, both watching Neteyam train a small group of young aspirant warriors—the few still permitted to learn under their prince’s guidance. A shadow passed over Celeste’s face, the weight of guilt settling deep in her stomach, more and more pungent. Tuk, noticing, gently patted her forearm.

“Hey, don't think about it.” Cel forced a smile, though it did nothing to brighten her tired expression. “They would have signed farce papers to train with him first. Now, half the clan despises him, and the other avoids him out of fear.” “He is still the heir to the throne.” “How much longer?” she asked, her voice tight with distress. “Tsentey's faction is gathering more support every day. If they grow into a majority, it could mean exile for you. It could...” She trailed off, her fingers instinctively tightening over the slight swell of her belly. A tear caught the sunlight before she quickly lifted her head, blinking it away. “Sorry, Tuk-Tuk. I didn't mean to upset you.” “I'm old enough to listen to you if you need me.”

Celeste glanced at her, a genuine, grateful smile breaking through the tension. Tuk—still so small, yet already so mature. The rhythms of the clan left little room for childhood. By fourteen or fifteen, many had already completed Iknimaya and faced the Uniltaron—the Dream Hunt—to find their spirit animal and take their place as adults among the Omatikaya. Tuk’s own rite of passage was approaching fast, and for sure, growing up amid the ongoing conflict with the Sky People had only accelerated that process. Yet, she was still, indeed, a child. And Celeste wished she could protect that innocence just a little longer.

“Don’t worry for me,” she said with a sly grin. “Rather tell me about Enyetan.” The young woman arched a brow, giving her a suggestive look that made the teenager blush furiously. “Don't you start too!” Laughter bubbled from the sister-in-law's lips, warm and unrestrained. The sound carried across the clearing, reaching the ever-attentive ears of her mate, who couldn’t help but smile at the rare moment of lightness in the chaos of their lives.

What no one noticed, however, was how the energy in that laughter was off—wavering, unsteady. That day, the mask felt suffocating, the air too heavy and humid against her face. Suddenly, her breathing grew shallow, her throat constricting more at every second, intense heat searing through her airways. Panic should have set in; the desperate scramble for the emergency rebreather strapped to her belt. But it didn’t. The familiar choking weight of asphyxiation never came. panic. Instead, she felt light. Open. She gulped, and the air flowed freely into her lungs.

Pure. Fresh. Alive.

Her hands trembled as she hesitantly removed the exo-pack, bracing for inevitable. She expected her vision to blur, her throat to seize, the raw, toxic atmosphere of Pandora to set her lungs ablaze. Nothing happened. She inhaled deeply. No torturous pain, no giddiness. Just... oxygen filling her chest with an ease she had never known. Cool and sweet, like taking a true breath for the first time. The world around her looked brighter, colors deeper, sounds richer, the pulse of Eywa’s life clearer in her mind.

When she turned, Tuk was staring. “Cel...” she called with big, round, unblinking eyes. “Your mask.” 

Neteyam, mid-correction a boy’s stance with a bow, snapped his head in their direction, froze in place; a rare crack in his usual aplomb. Lo’ak, across the clearing, nearly dropped his spear as he strode over with a grim intensity, eyes flashing with disbelief. “Are you insane?” he blurted. “Put that back on before you drop dead!”  It was only then, as every pair of eyes locked onto her, that the human girl realized what she had done. Her breath was even, her chest rose and fell without resistance. She just shook her head, equally disoriented, “I... don’t need it.”

Neteyam was at her side in an instant, his large, calloused hands cupping her beautiful face, his lemon-gold eyes scanning hers with an unreadable mix of trepidation and alarm. “How?” The question wasn’t directed at her so much as at himself, as he looked at her with those giant orbs that characterized him in moments of extreme concentration. Pupils blown wide to the point they almost covered the entire iris. An adaptation response to threat, to enhance vision, to assess danger, to track an escape. His entire frame was on high alert, wired for protection. To keep his mate safe from something that was beyond unfamiliar, though.

This was odd.

For months, he had wrestled with sleepless nights and unshakable guilt. Gilt for giving in to his urges, for silencing reason when he should have resisted. No matter how much he loved Celeste, no matter how natural it had felt to surrender to his feelings, he should have held back. Instead, he had let desire eclipse caution, and now, she was paying the price. Inside, a sick weight settled in his gut, he felt lousy. He had failed at the one thing he had been trained for: protect. Maybe Tsentey was right. Maybe he wasn’t fit to lead. the leader of his people. How could he secure the clan if he couldn't even take care of his woman?

She reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his shaking hand, her respire hitched. “It’s the child.” Because what else could it be? What other options could explain what was going on with her?

Silence fell, thick and heavy. She could see the thoughts written plainly across their faces—the shock, the unease, the dread they didn’t dare voice. The training had come to a standstill. Stiff postures, atonic stares. Lo'ak and Tuk, who had been watching open-mouthed, exchanged a glance, their usual roguery absent for once.

A student’s voice, when it came, was quiet but edged with something serrated. “This has never happened before.”  “Shit,” Lo’ak exhaled, running a palm down his face. Neteyam's ears darted back at his brother’s reaction, tail lashing once before forcing himself to regain composure. Then, gently, he pressed his forehead to Celeste’s, his long fingers sliding down to cover hers over their unborn child. He tried—desperately—to ignore the whispers around them, the same echoing in the back of his mind, threatening to surface. “Isn’t this amazing, tìyawn (love)? I can finally admire you all day without this horrible mask hiding your beauty.” 

Celeste giggled at his ridiculous, love-drunk words, and for a fleeting minute, her preoccupations faded. Neteyam had always possessed this quiet strength—the ability to lift the weight off others’ shoulders, to remind them of the light even in the darkest moments. But it was also his greatest flaw. He carried too much. He took on burdens that weren’t his, stretched himself thin until he was on the verge of breaking.

Still, as he pressed their entwined hands against the gentle swell of her belly, warmth spread through her—not quite human, not quite Na’vi, but something in between.

There was content for a while, the nice, peaceful fondness of being in her lover's embrace. But it didn’t last. An acute sting twisted through her abdomen. She doubled over with a cry, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “What is it?” Neteyam asked urgently, his hand instinctively landing on her baby bump, aggravation evident in both his expression and voice. She couldn’t respond; the dull ache so severe it prevented her from speaking. The sensation wasn’t just pain—it was movement. Not the ordinary flutters of a fetus developing in the womb, this was deeper, stranger, as though something resonated within her. Not far away, the plants pulsed in time with her heartbeat, their faint radiance glinting like distant stars. Celeste clutched her stomach, feeling something under her skin shift. 

Kiri, who had been meditating high in the green canopy, sat upright. “It’s happening,” she whispered, her yellow eyes as large as a lemur’s.

By sunset, Celeste was in the ambulatory unit, surrounded by meds. The air soupy with tension; the sterile, white walls felt oppressive, nothing like the vast, living jungle or the cosy, homely ambience of Hometree. She sat on the examination table, palms firm over her tummy, mind reeling while they ran test after test, talking in hushed tones laced with both awe and fret.

The weight of the exo-pack she had worn her entire life was gone, yet the air in the lab had never felt stifler. Norm and Max worked in quiet urgency, moving between holo-screens displaying her vitals, their brows furrowed. The data didn’t make sense, her heart rate had slowed, more like Na’vi's than a human's. Her oxygen saturation was perfect—too perfect—the high carbon dioxide levels in the Pandoran atmosphere should have been affecting her, but they weren't. The ultrasound showed something incredible. She had developed wichow—the specialized organs, similar to kidneys, that allow natives to extract oxygen for their bloodstream from Pandora’s otherwise toxic air. A natural filter. A biological unfeasibility for her, still there it was.

Then there was the genetic scan. And that was when everything changed.

“This is phenomenal,” one doctor exclaimed, rubbing her temples as she stared at the results. Adjusting her glasses, she leaned closer to Max. “Her DNA is evolving. Look at his—her respiratory system has adapted to filtrate Pandora’s atmosphere, but it’s not solely adaptation. It’s... transformation.” She turned to the patient, her eyes filled with both scientific fascination and deep concern. “Your body isn’t just compensating for the pregnancy, Cel. It’s rewriting itself.” “What does that mean?” Neteyam’s reassuring grip on her shoulder stiffened while she shuddered. Max didn’t sugarcoat it. “The fetus isn’t a simple hybrid,” he explained, voice calm but dour. “It's triggering changes in you. Something in its DNA is interacting with yours in a way we’ve never seen.”  She swallowed hard, “I’m... mutating.”  Jake's words came out through clenched teeth, his jaw tight enough to snap. “That’s why she can breathe out there.” 

Neytiri stood rigid near the door, her narrowed eyes fixed on the glowing monitors. She didn't fully grasp the science behind the data plashing across the screens, nor the theories the experts were debating. But of one thing, she was totally sure: they had entered unknown territory. There were no answers here, no precedents. And the deeper they went in, the more question marks and anxieties sprung up. The creature Celeste was carrying was extraordinary in every sense of the term; not yet born, and already it was reshaping the world around it. This child—this impossible child—was changing everything from its very core.

But Celeste could see the unspoken fear in her eyes.

Kiri, who had insisted on coming, stood by her bestie’s side, her yellow orbs bouncing between the readings and her own intuition. “My nephew is part of both worlds. And now, so is Cel,” she stated softly. Spider shook his head, still baffled, struggling to wrap his mind around the unsettling reality. “That’s not how genetics works.”  The future tsahìk observed her friend with a grave look. “Nawna Sa’nok’s touch lingers on you,” she declared, pressing a cool palm on her forehead. 

Spider’s expression darkened, memories surfacing of all the times he had found Kiri lying in the middle of the wilderness, lost in a trance, nature beating around her. The way plants reacted to her touch, how she had tamed her ikran with freakish ease, how she swam through the currents, breathing underwater without any training as if she had always belonged to them. “You have felt this way before, haven’t you?” he asked, voice aloof with realization. Kiri nodded. “Not like this,” she admitted. “But yes. I have felt a... pull. A connection.” Her glance glimmered to her friend’s stomach. “It’s like Eywa’s energy is flowing through her.”  Neteyam’s jaw clenched, his hold on Celeste’s stronger. “Is she in danger?”  His sister’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Was I?” she retorted, her words heavy with meaning.

“She’s not you.” Spider rubbed things in, rough, blunt, unable to conceal his growing agitation for his twin'. “Yet she has been chosen exactly as I was. As my mother was.”  “Your mother was an inanimate body in a fucking tank! She wasn't risking anything.” His remark was harsh and cruel, the tone leathery with frustration, but Kiri didn’t flinch. She knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. If anything, he had always been one of the few who had stood by her, defended her when others doubted. But just like everyone else in that room, Spider was terrified. As much as it hurt on a par with an anvil, she could find it in her heart to justify him. Celeste reached for him, squeezing his hand with one of hers while the other rested on her hip. The warmth inside her, the link she felt deep in her bones, was changing her at a fundamental level.

“Will I survive this?” she finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. The medical team couldn’t answer that question; the entire ordeal was new to everybody. Neteyam tensed beside her. Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances, the weight of precariousness dense between them, the pressure in the unit mounting at any second.

Truth settled over them like a murky, noxious fog. Neytiri’s ears flattened, her tail rolled dolefully around her leg as if seeking comfort in making herself small. One hand clamped against her chest, the other tentatively sought her husband's touch, resting on his contracted arm. His fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, his other hand raking through his dreadlocks as he inhaled noisily through his flat nose. They had never shown such vulnerability before, or at least not at this magnitude. As parental figures, as leaders of the Omatikaya, they had always carried their burdens with quiet strength—as their firstborn son had learned to do. But now, stripped of that armor, their fear was palpable.

This only made Neteyam even more nervous. His whole frame was taut, trembling on the verge of exploding. His eyes, wide, glassy, shimmered with unshed tears, perfectly round and reflective like polished stones. He was there, present among them, but his spirit was somewhere far away. Cel—the love of his life— could have died, and no one could have stopped it. And for what? A child they never needed? A future they never chose? Why was Eywa doing this? Why them?

Their love was already complicated—strained by their incompatible species, haunted by past pain and resentment, burdened by the expectations of his status. He had thought he could cast it all aside, that he could embrace the reward the Great Mother had granted him. But that gift came with conditions—conditions so heavy that, had he known them in advance, he might have turned away. Yet none of it mattered. He would sacrifice his own happiness if it meant keeping Celeste safe.

In the fragile months after they had first come together, he had offered nothing but solace and praise. He had consoled when she was in distress, lifted her up when she doubted herself, encouraged her to trust her decisions—even the reckless ones as this one. But now, standing at the precipice of something unknown and terrifying, he could no longer do the same. He wished, more than anything, that he possessed the human gift for lying. At times like these, it would have proven useful—even if only to convince himself that everything would be fine, that at the end of this impossible journey, they would be happy. The three of them. Three, not two. Not just him and the baby. Not just him alone. Imagining a life without her was unbearable, and he refused to linger on the thought.

For a brief moment, once the initial panic had subsided, he had even allowed himself to believe that what was happening was beautiful. A miracle. Celeste could now breathe Pandora’s air—something that would surely help her through the long months ahead. But now, with this new revelation, he could no longer meet her gaze with comfort. Those warm, sweet, frightened, yet fiercely brave eyes searched his for reassurance. He had none to give.

Na’vi do not lie. And he would not offer false hope for something that, deep in his heart, frightened him so terribly.

As agitation grew, Norm reluctantly stepped forward and stroked his foot with the caring and kind manner of an uncle. “Look, we need more tests before we jump to conclusions. Right now, the priority is monitoring Cel’s condition. If your genome keeps reconstructing at this rate, we have no idea where it will end.”

*

The days blurred together in a haze of tests, scans, and restless nights where Celeste lay awake, feeling her body shift in ways she couldn’t see but knew were happening. The lab’s artificial lights felt oppressive, suffocating. The sterile environment clashed with the instincts waking inside her. She craved the jungle, the open air of Pandora—she needed to feel the earth beneath her feet, to hear the hum of life all around her. But every time she voiced this, Jake or Neytiri would exchange wary glances, and Neteyam would grip her hand a little tighter, unwilling to risk anything.

The fear in his eyes was worse than anything else. But the changes weren’t waiting for permission.

She no longer needed the exo-pack to breathe, that much was obvious. But it wasn’t just that: her lungs had changed. Max’s latest scans confirmed it. “They’ve elongated,” he said, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the results. “Your oxygen absorption rate has increased. You’re breathing like a Na’vi now.” Celeste touched her ribs absently while taking a deep breath from the inhaler—one designed for avatars and natives alike. She had already felt it. The deep, instinctual way her chest expanded when she inhaled, the effortless intake of Pandora’s air as if she had been born for it.

And her skin, once the soft beige of an Earthborn, had begun to repigment in tone—a faint iridescence beneath the surface was spreading, veins shimmering faintly in dim lighting. It wasn’t full bioluminescence like the Na’vi, but it was close.

Then there were her senses. At night, she could see in the dark. Not just in the way humans adjusted to low light, this was different. Colors took on a richer depth, details sharpened beyond what should have been possible. Smelling the lightest traces of the rainforest that clung to Neteyam’s skin, the sticky whiff of the cerulean paint his brother painted his body with, the pungent tang of disinfectant in the lab, once a mild annoyance, now felt nauseous. Scents she had never detected in the past. And her hearing—she could pick up sounds that no one else in the lab could. Conversations whispered in corners, the rustling of fabric from another room. She didn’t tell anyone, but she could hear the low, rhythmic hum of the planet itself when she closed her eyes. It was overwhelming.

And the baby—the baby was growing fast. Too fast. At just four months, she already looked closer to six. The doctors were baffled, worried. The hybrid nature of the child seemed to be accelerating everything as if her body wasn’t just adapting—it was rushing to keep up with whatever the baby needed.

Neteyam never left her side. She felt his hands on her belly every night, felt the quiet reverence in his touch as he whispered to the child in Na’vi, his forehead pressed to hers in silent devotion. But she also felt his dread. The terror that she would slip away from him. That she would become something unrecognizable or disappear entirely.

Celeste stared at her reflection in the sterile glass of the lab’s observation window, barely recognizing herself. Her fingers trembled as she traced the outline of her cheekbones. Were they more angular than before? It wasn’t just weight loss. The structure of her visage was subtly shifting—her features elongating ever so slightly, her eyes taking on a faint amber hue that had not been there before.

And her hair. It had thickened, the strands darkening from their usual color to something richer, a shade closer to the inky black of the People. When she moved, the fine strands caught the light in strange, reflecting tones of deep violet and green—pale but unmistakable.

The changes weren’t just superficial. Her senses were growing keener by the day. She could hear Jake and Neytiri talk outside the room, even through the sturdy walls. She could smell the faintest traces of the jungle that clung to Neteyam’s skin, scents she had never been able to pick up before. The stench of disinfectant of the compound, once lightly noticeable, now felt almost insufferable.

Then there was the most undeniable proof of her metamorphosis, the most disturbing change—her queue.

the way her body responded to Pandora’s energy. She could feel the pulse of the world in a way that made her dizzy. When she stepped outside, the very air around her seemed to hum against her skin. The plants, the ground, the very life of the moon—it was as if she were beginning to tap into something bigger, something she had never been meant to connect with as a human.

And the most undeniable proof of that was her queue. It had appeared three nights ago. Celeste had woken in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, her entire body burning as if feverish. Neteyam sprang into action immediately, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead, whispering soothing nothings as she gasped through the strange, intense sensation of her own body warping itself. When the pain finally ebbed, she had felt it, something pulling at the base of her skull. A tendril-like appendage forming, hidden beneath her thickening hair. It wasn’t fully developed—not yet—but the sensation was undeniable. A strange tingling at the back of her neck, as though her body was forcing her into something closer to the Na’vi.

The moment Neteyam realized, his eyes had gone wide, caught between stupor and scare, his hand trembling as he brushed over the barely formed kuru. He exhaled shakily, his gaze raw, almost reverent. “You’re not human anymore.”

Taglist: @minnory @faith2155 @stardream14 @akari-rosefield

[the-most-humble-blog]

You Are Being Haunted — and Science Can’t Save You.

You are being haunted. And you don’t even know it.

Not by ghosts. Not by demons. But by something far worse.

Something that follows you. From inside you. From before you were conscious — and long after you think you’re dead.

I. What Follows You Without Footsteps?

In quantum physics, there’s a term:

Superposition — the idea that particles can exist in multiple states at once, until observed.

Observation collapses the wave. But what collapses you?

Answer: Your shadow.

You think it’s a trick of the light. But in quantum terms, it’s something else:

A probability field. A projection. A permanently entangled copy of your presence in spacetime.

Not metaphor. Not poetry. Physics.

II. It Comes Back. Every Time.

You can try to change.

Move cities.

Get therapy.

Shave your head and call it rebirth.

But the shadow doesn’t care.

Because the shadow isn't a symptom. It’s a recording.

A data echo of everything you’ve been. And everything you're capable of being again.

If you’ve ever tried to escape yourself — Only to circle back into old habits, old wounds, old lusts — That wasn’t weakness. It was recursion.

And recursion is physics. Not failure.

III. Quantum Haunting Is Real. Here's the Data.

Not allegory.

Literal evidence exists.

Hiroshima, 1945.

When the atomic bomb dropped, thousands vaporized in microseconds. But their shadows did not.

人影の石 (Hitokage no Ishi) — The Human Shadow Etched in Stone.

A woman sitting near the Sumitomo Bank. Vaporized by thermal radiation.

But the stone steps behind her were bleached — except where her body shielded them.

Her final shape. Frozen into reality. A dark imprint of her last moment of life.

They call it: The Human Shadow of Death. The Blast Shadow.

But let’s be precise:

It wasn’t just a stain. It was a recording. Of presence. Of heat. Of witness.

And here’s what’s worse:

You’re leaving them, too. Right now.

IV. What Science Still Won’t Admit

There is no unified theory explaining consciousness.

We can split atoms. We can map genomes. But we can’t explain:

Why you dream of your ex.

Why trauma shows up as smell.

Why some memories scream without sound.

Why the past lives in your body.

There is no consensus on how the mind locates itself inside the body.

But evidence suggests:

There’s something watching you from within the field of you. Something that records every shame, lust, betrayal, fear — not emotionally, but energetically.

Your trauma? Not stored in the body. Encoded.

In the wavelength of your biofield. In the negative space of your choices. In your shadow print.

V. The Observer Effect (and Why You’re Fucked)

Quantum mechanics says:

Observation changes the outcome.

If that’s true…

What happens when you observe yourself?

Guilt. Self-hatred. Shame. Depression.

Those aren’t emotions. They’re echoes. They're your own wave function collapsing on itself.

And the more aware you become of who you’ve been — The darker the shadow that stands behind you.

VI. No One Escapes. Not Even The Enlightened.

Go meditate. Go fast. Go run barefoot through forests chanting mantras.

It won’t matter.

Even monks report psychological possession during shadow integration.

Carl Jung, the man who coined the term “the shadow self,” wrote:

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life — and you will call it fate.”

But Jung didn’t know quantum field theory.

If he did, he would’ve known:

You’re not just fighting patterns. You’re resisting a mirrored field embedded into the architecture of time.

And here's the kicker: You destroy it — you destroy yourself.

VII. The Human Shadow is Not Just Metaphor — It's Mechanism

Remember Hiroshima.

The shadow was left behind. Because the body absorbed the light.

That’s not poetic. That’s radiological fact.

Let me rephrase it for clarity:

The body was erased. The shadow stayed.

And still we ask:

Is the soul what survives death?

What if it’s not the soul?

What if it’s the shadow?

What if what stays behind isn’t divine — but undeniable?

What if you die… And what remains is everything you couldn’t face?

VIII. Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Your Quantum Stalker

You call it:

Guilt

Anxiety

The past

A bad habit

But science has a term for it too:

Quantum entanglement.

The particles that make you… you Are never alone.

And if they once interacted with trauma? They are forever linked to the energy of that event.

Even when you leave the place. Even when the person dies. Even when you heal.

The field doesn’t forget.

And neither does your shadow.

IX. Why You Should Be Scared

Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer told the story of the bomb.

But not the blast shadows.

Hollywood won't show you the real horror:

People permanently burned into stone — by light.

That’s not science fiction. That’s what’s left when energy remembers.

And energy always remembers.

You? You think you’re safe.

But the field has you documented.

Every word. Every orgasm. Every betrayal.

There is no deleting your shadow.

X. Final Revelation

You're haunted.

By what you've done. By what you've denied. By the part of you that watched you sin — and never blinked.

This is not metaphor. This is physics.

You are not being followed. You are being mirrored.

And the only way to kill your shadow?

Is to never cast one again. But to stop casting one…

You must destroy all light.

Including yourself.

And so it comes back.

Every time.

🧠 Call to Action

You are being watched. By a part of you that remembers what you’d rather forget.

Reblog if the idea of your own shadow now makes your skin crawl. Reblog if the physics of guilt suddenly makes sense. Reblog because maybe you’re haunted too — and you didn’t even know it.

⚠️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is psychological horror, quantum theory satire, trauma field exploration, and sociocultural commentary. It is protected under the laws of literature, symbolic science, and emotionally accurate terror. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s your shadow blinking back.

[enneegon]

hello hello.. here's the complete reference for hifsamotud. the space thang! the supership! some more information below the cut

HIFSAMOTUD stands for Hollow Intercession, Falling Space, All Mundane Order Towards Unawakened Discovery (or simply Discovery for short, to refer to it as a whole) which is by all means.... a ridiculously long name! every couple words is meant to represent each of its minds.

originally, it was restricted to travelling a specific distance away from the planet - a taboo that it managed to break, along with rewriting its genomes in such a way that expanded its range of communication. it functions like a massive satellite for iterators on ground, allowing them to send signals to other iterators who would usually be out of their radius.

discovery is unfortunately not as large as a moon, but it's very fun to depict it as a gargantuan, otherworldly being that i think it would be perceived as :) in reality it is just very very curious about everything down below..

[mindblowingscience]

In a study published in Nature Structural and Molecular Biology, scientists from the Department of Medical Biochemistry and Biophysics at Karolinska Institutet, have discovered that water molecules play a crucial role in helping proteins, specifically transcription factors, read and regulate the human genome. Only approximately 1% of our genome consists of genes, sections of DNA that specify the structure and function of proteins. Protein-coding genes are highly similar among mammals, with most differences between humans and other animals arising from how gene activity is regulated. Proteins called transcription factors regulate gene activity so that only a necessary set of genes is switched on at a particular place and time. Each transcription factor recognizes and binds to a unique short DNA sequence, most often located in the 99% of the genome that does not encode proteins. Binding of transcription factors either increases or decreases the expression of nearby genes.

Continue Reading.

[calina-alda]

give me your post-viral wesker physical/bodily hcs please. what's he look like in there... do you have any pg67 function headcanons. the masses must know! (if you want to share, of course... i saw biology and i ran in here)

Okay so first of all congratulations, because with this question you accidentally triggered two of my fixations, resident evil lore and biology. So naturally I spent way too much time thinking about this at a molecular level, and emerged with a little manifesto on 'what the virus does to Wesker'.

Okay, lets get into it!

The virus inserts viral DNA directly into the host’s genome, permanently altering Wesker's genetic code. It targets specific stem cell populations to overwrite genetic instructions. These new genes code for synthetic proteins that give his body enhanced abilities. The virus functions similarly to an engineered gene therapy vector, but instead of fixing a mutation, it adds entirely new capabilities:

Healing Factor

• Wesker’s body heals stupidly fast. Bullet wounds seal up in real time. It’s not just fast, it’s efficient. No scar, no bruise, just gone. That’s because of proteins, that promote extreme tissue regeneration by accelerating transcription of growth factors.

• The viral DNA triggers production of proteins that upregulate mitochondrial efficiency. So his cells are constantly in overdrive, replicating and regenerating at insane speeds. That kind of process would literally melt a normal person from the inside out, but the virus keeps him juuuuust stable enough to survive it.

• That means he burns through nutrients and energy at an insane rate. But he still eats very little because his body has learned to metabolize efficiently.

• Because of this, he doesn’t get sick. Like, ever. No flu, no fever, nothing. His immune system probably nukes bacteria before they finish replicating.

Strength

• A key viral protein might mimic myostatin inhibitors, increasing muscle mass without bulk, think insane strength in a lean frame.

• He could punch a hole in reinforced steel if he wanted to, but the scary part is that he doesn’t. He holds back all the time. He can crack a man’s ribs with one hand, or gently zip up your jacket without pulling the tab off.

• His control is off the charts. He’s not just strong, he’s precise. Every movement is calculated.

Eyesight & Senses

• He sees more than most people. Infrared, low light, motion trails, his vision is layered. The world probably looks like a high-contrast heatmap half the time.

• That’s why he wears sunglasses 24/7. Not just for the aesthetic (though let’s be real, it’s working), but to help with light sensitivity. Without them, he’d probably get visual overload in a well-lit room. (Okay, Gojo Satoru)

• His hearing is sharp too. Not supernatural, but he can pick up your heartbeat if you're close enough. It makes sneaking up on him borderline impossible.

The PG67A/W Serum

• The serum is a lifeline. The virus is unstable on its own, the host cells try to over-replicate or misfire signals, leading to cellular death or mutation.

• PG67A/W likely acts as a suppressor or regulator, binding to specific viral receptors or feedback loops, controlling gene expression and inhibitory enzyme systems to keep certain proteins from overexpressing.

• He doses every 6 to 8 hours. He keeps spares on him at all times. If he’s on a mission, he builds his entire schedule around those injections.

• He hides injection sites on his inner thigh, shoulder, or hip, places easy to reach but not visible.

Body Temperature

• His body runs hot. Like, unnaturally warm to the touch, like 39°C on a normal day. You could probably use him as a space heater.

• He doesn’t sweat much, but if he’s pushing his limits, the heat builds up fast. He’ll disappear for a cold shower or just stand in front of an AC vent for five minutes without saying anything.

• Resting heart rate? Low. Like athlete-low, sometimes around 40 bpm. But if he moves into combat mode, it spikes instantly. Controlled tachycardia, probably tied to the virus.

Time Perception & Reflexes

• The virus likely alters neurotransmitter uptake and synaptic plasticity, enhancing reaction time and cognition. It increases dopamine and norepinephrine sensitivity, creating hyper-alertness without overstimulation.

• Neural conduction speed may be boosted by: enhanced myelination of neurons. Modified ion channels that allow faster action potential firing.

• The result? Time feels slower to him. His brain processes information so fast that everything else seems like it’s moving in slow motion. That’s why he reacts before you even finish blinking.

• But it’s also exhausting in a subtle way. Conversations feel slow. Meetings drag. He lives in a world that’s slightly out of sync.

Mutation Risk

• He’s constantly on the edge. The virus wants to take over, it wants him to evolve into something monstrous. He keeps that in check with raw willpower and serum, but it’s always there.

• He has nightmares about it. Not dying, mutating. Losing himself.

Aging

• The virus triggers production of novel proteins that tabilize telomeres.

• His aging basically stopped. He should be pushing 50, but he still looks like he’s in his late 30s at most.

Touch & Intimacy

• His body doesn’t regulate hormones quite the same anymore. He can feel arousal, desire, etc., but it’s slower to build and hits harder when it does.

• And his stamina...He doesn’t get tired, doesn’t lose focus, and has total control over his body. He can go for hours without so much as breaking a sweat, and he’s frustratingly composed the whole time

Pain Response

• The virus likely alters his nervous system, especially the nociceptors.

• Instead of fully shutting off pain, it modulates the intensity, filtering it through a “useful or not” lens.

• So he still feels pain, but it’s dulled. A knife wound feels like pressure. A gunshot is just an annoyance.

• He can weaponize it too. Take a hit, stay standing, stare you down without even flinching, smile on his face, it’s terrifying. And he knows it.

Anyway. That’s the gist of what I think is going on inside Wesker’s terrifyingly efficient, (incredibly attractive) body. Please note:

• I did have microbiology, but I’m studying environmental science.

• I am not a virologist or Umbrella scientist (tragic, I know), just someone who thinks too hard about fictional men with god complexes.

• Also, I had to use a translator for like 40% of the fancy terms because my English science vocab just noped out halfway through. So if something sounds too text book, blame the language barrier

Thank you for enabling me, lol

[dykewithbenefits]

Hi everyone!

Welcome to my little side blog, where I'll be indulging in my orientation play kink! None of the stuff on here is to be taken seriously, but if you're not into orientation play, I do recomend blocking this blog for your own good.

Feel free to send me asks or DMs, but be sure to read my DNI before you do :3

Kinks & tags

I have a lot of kinks, some on the more unusual side. So that you may still enjoy this blog even if all of them aren't your cup of tea, I do my best to tag everything appropriately. Please use the tag filtering function if you want to avoid certain stuff.

Orientation play (#orientation play, #dykebreaking, #gaybreaking, #acebreaking, #straightbreaking)

Detrans & misgendering (#detrans kink, #ftm detrans kink, #mtf detrans kink, #misgendering kink)

Trans supremacy (#trans supremacy)

Common sense change & hypnosis (#hypnosis, #mind break)

Femboys (#femboy)

Force-feminization (#forcefem)

Breeding (#br33d1ng, #impreg)

Oblivious and/or casual free use and cheating (#fr33use, #cheating)

NC (#rap3 kink)

Incest/fauxcest (#1nc53t, #fauxcest)

Scents & smell (#scent kink, #girlstink, #boystink)

Watersports (#urophilia)

Zoophilia (#k9)

Gas (#eproctophilia)

Limits

This is a queer blog by a queer person for queer people. Actual homophobia, transphobia, misogony, etc. will not be tolerated.

Claimed anons

💖, 🐾, 🍑, 🫀, 🌹, ♣️, 🌹🍀,🎭, 🥫,🩸,💜,🧇

DNI if you don't have your queer identity and age in your pinned post or bio. I will not respond to cishet men. Minors will be blocked on sight.

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