tiny coils

“Ah,” Yuuri says. They’re near the TVs, JJ’s performance broadcasting. “Mari’s calling. I’ll be right back.”

Viktor nods, letting go of Yuuri’s shoulder for the first time in a while; he hadn’t noticed he was holding onto Yuuri until he made to leave. Is he clingy? He might be clingy. The space at his side loses heat as he watches JJ’s short programme with a critical eye, cataloguing movements, similarities to other skaters. A glance at Yuuri’s back shows only high shoulders, his posture sheltering the phone from the noise.

A tiny coil of dread unfurls in Viktor’s stomach. Habit, maybe; he doesn’t like it when Yuuri adopts that posture, cut off from the people in the room. He turns back to JJ, but the programme is finishing. There’s nothing there to help Yuuri, anyway; JJ has a different appeal.

Or rather, Yuuri has appeal. Viktor wonders if he’s biased. He looks at Yuuri again, and now Yuuri is turning to face him, phone still clutched in his hand.

“Viktor—you have to go back to Japan. I’ll face the free skate alone.”

Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 of A Choreographer’s Dilemma are posted! Illustration by @silencedmoment ❤️

anonymous asked:

How did Leorio propose to Kurapika? (If there was in fact a proposal) and how did Kurapika respond? How long did Leorio plan this out? Was it even Leorio who proposed or was it vise versa?

Kurapika actually proposed. They were in bed one morning just reading and talking, and kurapika brought up how they’d been together for quite a few years and now had a 3 year old, and it would be nice to make themselves a proper family. Leorio was super surprised because kurapika had mentioned in the past about his lack of care for the ritual of marriage, but kurapika explained that he’d been thinking about how he was the only one left who could recreate a kurta wedding, and he wanted his son, friends and leorio too see that - marriage would also mean sharing a last name with Luca (kurtas don’t even have last names so lu automatically got leorio’s).

He also talked about how he already felt part of leorios family, so taking his name would mean a lot to him (and would make getting through passport control a hell of a lot easier, he joked).

Kurapika didn’t expect the level of crying leorio was going to do, but altogether it was a super touching, sappy moment for the both of them.

Leorios engagement ring was thick, flat and silver - with a tiny coiled leaf embossed onto it.

Goldgraves Headcanon:

Percival Graves is the type of dapper fella who’s aesthetic is honed to a sharp edge, from his slicked, silver-black hair to the cut of his pristine robes - even down to the simple gold cufflinks monogrammed with a neat ‘PG’.

Tina’s style is simple, practical and ‘workable’. She’s lovely, easy on the eyes, almost too easy, nothing quite catches your eye except the tiny flicker of gold coiled snugly around her neck. Hard to imagine Miss Tina Goldstein wearing such a dime piece- a choker seems a bit trendy for her classic style but it’s dainty and simple, just like her. And it wraps around her throat like a lovers grasp in the best way.

If you look closely on the little golden disk that hangs from it there’s a familiar ‘PG’ stamped into it.

People think it stands for Porpentina Goldstein.

It doesn’t.

MIT's Bio-Suit may change the silhouette of space travel

For future astronauts, the process of suiting up may go something like this: Instead of climbing into a conventional, bulky, gas-pressurized suit, an astronaut may don a lightweight, stretchy garment, lined with tiny, musclelike coils. She would then plug in to a spacecraft’s power supply, triggering the coils to contract and essentially shrink-wrap the garment around her body.

The skintight, pressurized suit would not only support the astronaut, but would give her much more freedom to move during planetary exploration. To take the suit off, she would only have to apply modest force, returning the suit to its looser form.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you pretttttyyy pretttyyyy please write a fic for this prompt? Castle misses or forgets Becketts birthday

When she wakes, it’s not to the smell of fresh coffee or pancakes, it’s not to balloons crowding the ceiling (something he’s done more than once on this particular day of the year), nor is it to her husband propped against her side, waiting with a soft grin on his lips and a raspy, oh so welcome ‘Happy Birthday’ in his mouth.

Kate’s brow furrows as she shifts, sitting up and scanning their bedroom, empty save for him. But the loft isn’t, of that she’s certain.

She can hear the low tenor of Castle’s voice from the living room, attempting to soothe the high-pitched sounds of her boys, whiny and restless at seven in the morning. Lily must still be sleeping; after all, Kate’s birthday did fall on a Saturday this year. 

Kate touches the space beside her, cool with his absence, and shoves the sheets from her thighs. She slips from the bed, snagging the pair of his boxer shorts she had worn to bed last night, still strewn across the floor, tugging them on to accompany the drape of his t-shirt along her torso.

She isn’t quiet in her wakening, going to the bathroom, flushing the toilet and running the sink, padding out into his office with her bare feet tapping along the hardwood floors, entering the living room with a bated breath, but… he doesn’t even glance up from his position on the couch. Reece is laid out on one of the cushions, his chubby legs kicking while his father attempts to wrestle him into the clean onesie, and adoration floods her system at the sight. 

It soothes the unwarranted disappointment at his lack of acknowledgement. She’s used to him sensing the moment she walks into a room, but he’s busy with their son and it’s so unfair of her to expect so much when he’s already given her everything.


His eyes fly up to see her and he offers her his usual morning smile, a quick flash of his teeth, but nothing out of the ordinary, no mischievous sparkle in his eyes or excitement tugging at his lips.

Just another normal day.

“Hey, sleep okay?”

Her heart sinks a little and she hates herself for it, for how selfish she’s being. He woke up early, took her turn in the twins’ morning feeding, and she’s hurt by his lack of enthusiasm for her birthday? Not cool, Kate.

It’s just… he’s never not gone out of his way to make her birthday special, even when she hadn’t wanted him to, and perhaps she became a bit too spoiled by the eager attention. But she had learned to enjoy it when it was coming from him, cherished all the ways he had made her look forward to this day after it had become nothing more than another dreaded yearly occasion once her mother was no longer around to celebrate it.

“Yeah, great. Thanks for taking my turn with the boys,” she murmurs, stepping forward to cup his shoulder with her palm, bending to dust a kiss to his temple, bowing to blow a raspberry over Reece’s bare chest.

Her baby boy giggles and Kate taps his nose with the tip of her finger before drawing back.

“Not a problem. They actually slept in a little today, didn’t wake until six,” he informs her and she sighs, threads her fingers through his hair before she can head to the kitchen.

This is her first birthday with Jake and Reece in their lives, the first time they’ve had two six month olds to look after; no wonder he forgot. There are far more important things than her birthday on his mind and she’s glad, grateful.

“You’re a wonderful father,” she states, watching his gaze startle up to meet hers, bright blue and soft, loving.

“And you’re a wonderful mother, Kate,” he replies, reaching up to snag her fingers, dragging the top of her hand to his lips. “You okay?”

“Of course,” she murmurs, stroking her thumb to her chin before she drifts towards the kitchen, stalling along the way to find Jake in his bouncy seat, beaming up at her with… a small bouquet of balloons tied to the baby bouncer that she hadn’t been able to see from the living room area.

Her lips part and she spins back towards Castle, notices him already watching her, striding forward with Reece in his arms, his onesie buttoned up with ‘Happy Birthday, Mommy!’ embroidered across the tiny chest area.

“Castle,” she whispers, feeling like an even bigger idiot than she had five minutes ago when her eyes begin to water.

“You really think I would ever forget your birthday?” he teases, reaching forward to cover the bone of her hip with his palm. “When I’ve been celebrating it like a national holiday since I finally found out the date less than a year after we started working together?”

Kate bites her lip and sways into him, one hand rising to his chest and the other landing atop Reece’s kicking leg. 

“I know, I just-”

“Nothing could ever make me forget your birthday, Kate,” he murmurs, his lips at her eyebrow, and she nudges her nose to his cheek, lets her eyes flutter closed against his skin. “Too important.”

“Never more important than this,” she hums, touching her lips to the corner of his mouth, grinning when Reece coils his tiny fingers around one of hers and Jake shouts from his bouncy seat, calling for attention.

Castle squeezes her hip before he lets her go and Kate turns to retrieve Jake from his bouncer, hoisting him into her arms and allowing him to lean towards the still floating balloons drifting towards them with outstretched fingers.

“Happy Birthday, Mommy!” Lily’s voice resounds through the loft as she bounds down the stairs in her pajamas, a wide smile claiming her lips and a bouquet of wildflowers in her arms that she recognizes from Castle’s favorite shop down the street.

“Thank you, baby,” Kate chuckles, descending to her haunches at the foot of the stairs to embrace the rush of her daughter into her side.

Jake squeals with delight, Lily’s excitement catching, and Kate presses a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, accepts the flowers with an awed smile.

“They’re gorgeous, Lil. Thank you.”

Lily beams, preening just like her father does under praise. “Daddy helped me pick them out. Oh, can we make mommy’s special birthday breakfast now, Daddy?”

“Sure, Peanut,” Castle calls back from the kitchen, bouncing Reece on his hip while he starts the coffee. “Come get your apron.”

Her four year old bounces on her toes, smacks a kiss to her mother’s cheek, and skips into the kitchen.

“We’re having a special family breakfast, then Lily has scheduled a ‘mommy and me’ birthday lunch, and finally, Alexis and my mother have volunteered to team up to babysit the munchkins tonight so you and I can have a special birthday dinner,” Castle announces, shooting her a wink that has a pleasant mixture of heat and affection swirling through her bloodstream.

“Special, huh?” she muses, approaching her family in the kitchen and holding her arm out for Reece as Castle begins helping Lily drag out cooking supplies from the cabinets. 

“Ours is gonna be the best part, Momma,” Lily pipes up, grinning triumphantly with her child-sized spatula in her grasp. 

“Stop trying to steal my thunder, child,” Castle huffs, bumping Lily with his knee, eliciting another giggle and Kate can’t help but release a quiet sigh, snuggling both of her boys to her chest, relishing the nuzzle of Reece’s cheek against her neck and the patting of Jake’s small palm to her clavicle. 

She’d hated that she cared so much about something as minuscule as her birthday, about celebrating it, but when it gave her even more excuses to have quality time with her family like this, the people she loves most… how could she not anticipate it with such bubbling excitement in her veins?

“Rick,” she calls, briefly distracting him from his instructions to Lily on how to mix the pancake batter, but earning the full attention of his eyes on hers. But he already knows without having to ask. “It’s already special. All of it.”

For future astronauts, the process of suiting up may go something like this: Instead of climbing into a conventional, bulky, gas-pressurized suit, an astronaut may don a lightweight, stretchy garment, lined with tiny, musclelike coils. She would then plug in to a spacecraft’s power supply, triggering the coils to contract and essentially shrink-wrap the garment around her body.

The skintight, pressurized suit would not only support the astronaut, but would give her much more freedom to move during planetary exploration. To take the suit off, she would only have to apply modest force, returning the suit to its looser form.

Now MIT researchers are one step closer to engineering such an active, “second-skin” spacesuit: Dava Newman, a professor of aeronautics and astronautics and engineering systems at MIT, and her colleagues have engineered active compression garments that incorporate small, springlike coils that contract in response to heat. The coils are made from a shape-memory alloy (SMA) — a type of material that “remembers” an engineered shape and, when bent or deformed, can spring back to this shape when heated.

The team incorporated the coils in a tourniquet-like cuff, and applied a current to generate heat. At a certain trigger temperature, the coils contract to their “remembered” form, such as a fully coiled spring, tightening the cuff in the process. In subsequent tests, the group found that the pressure produced by the coils equaled that required to fully support an astronaut in space.

While the researchers are concentrating mostly on applications in space, Holschuh says the group’s designs and active materials may be used for other purposes, such as in athletic wear or military uniforms.

“You could use this as a tourniquet system if someone is bleeding out on the battlefield,” Holschuh says. “If your suit happens to have sensors, it could tourniquet you in the event of injury without you even having to think about it.”

“An integrated suit is exciting to think about to enhance human performance,” Newman adds. “We’re trying to keep our astronauts alive, safe, and mobile, but these designs are not just for use in space.”

Cave Escapades (Part I/II)

Or the one where Laura subsequently makes some very poor decisions. Written entirely on my phone- I apologize for any inconsistencies or grammatical errors.


She’s only just starting to get warm.

Snow is still flurrying down outside and the sky has the sullen appearance of an oncoming storm. The sun is masked by the mottled, dark banks, and so shivers rack Laura’s body as she huddles closer to Carmilla.

It’s times like these she wishes Carmilla was biologically able to produce some form of body heat. As if sensing her discomfort, Carmilla draws her closer, obsidian eyes glinting with concern.

“Are you okay, cupcake?”

Forcing a smile, Laura nods. “Yeah. Just, you know. Cold. We are on the run from an insane mob.”

“You were delirious,” Carmilla reminds her with a touch of worry in her voice. Her gaze clouds as she stares past to the darkening snowscape outside, the fluffy flakes now heavily dousing pine-capped peaks. Laura slides her gaze to where LaFontaine is (unsuccessfully) attempting to spark a fire before talking.

“I’m fine. I just wish we were back in the barn. At least it was warm.”

“Ah,” Carmilla reminisces, giving a fierce look that speaks of the feline within her, “But here we have the pleasure of being accompanied by the Ginger Squad 24/7- shit,” she swears furiously as LaF gives an excited shout. A bitter, sharp scent suddenly fills the cave, chasing away the scrupulous reek of bats that’s been suspended in the lofty cave.

“Good going,” Carmilla snarls, snow flecking the dark tumbles of her hair and her (torn) Grumpy Cat sweater as she devolves into spitting profanity that would put anyone to shame at the napalmistic scent on the air. Grinning at her, Laura moves to where LaF is giving a fond look at the leaping fire that now burns in the cave. Something dark and cylinder shaped is burning in the heart of the flames.

“Oh God, is that…?”

LaFontaine ignores Perry’s loud and disapproving sniff. “Bear spray, yeah. We lost the firewood after, you know-”

“The attempt on arson?”

“No,” LaF grins crookedly, “You two hormone bombs couldn’t help because you were making o-”

“Oookay,” Laura coughs loudly, drowning out LaF’s sentence in an attempt to bring this subject back into safer waters. Warming her frigid hands by the crackling fire, she sighs. She still wishes she were with her dad. Of course she loves being with her girlfriend, too, but it’s not exactly been easy to get… quality time with Carmilla, not with LaF and Perry butting in.

Laura immediately feels guilty. No, she’s glad to have her friends with her. Better to have more than less, and fleeing hasn’t been easy on anyone- Laura can see the dark circles shadowing Perry’s eyes, lit by the dancing flames.

Laura suddenly notices, with a certain amount of curiosity, that the cave doesn’t end in rock. A dark maw, yawning like the cavernous mouth of some animal, opens in the cave’s downward slanting slope.

Checking- LaF is now stirring the fire, which is gently spitting glowing sparks, Perry is watching them with an all-too-obvious look of affection, and Carmilla is busy cycling between sneezing loudly and then giving a murderous glare at the fire- Laura pauses.

It’s the hungering desire to know more, the journalistic streak that flows within her, that makes her turn on her phone, sending silver light spilling down, and slip into the shadows.

* * *

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Yep, that’s a dilemma,” LaF says, edging away nervously from a very furious Carmilla. Carmilla growls down at the footprints trailing away into the darkness, straining not to sneeze again as she rounds on LaFontaine and Perry. “All right, bye.”


“You think I’d let her wander off half delirious into a mysterious cave in the middle of the Hoher Dachstein without going after her? ” Carmilla snarls, voice harsher than she intends: damned if she admits the imminent worry pulsing in her veins at the thought of Laura lost, Laura hurt, Laura dead. Her heart takes a huge leap against her ribs. “Think again, bio major.”

“We’re coming too, then,” Perry announces with a grim edge of determination to her voice.

Carmilla almost argues, but something about the thought of company isn’t totally appalling. Feeling disgusted at herself for feeling what could be fondness towards the Ginger Twins, Carmilla nods curtly before narrowing her eyes and plunging into the darkness.

* * *

Laura gulps. It’s really cold, bone crackingly so, and she’s starting to feel the hard lump of uncertainty in her stomach, but curiosity and the knowledge that stopping equals dying keeps her prevailing on this treacherous journey.


Laura gapes as a shimmering, glimmering light bobs ahead. The shine lights up narrow, slick walls and she squints; a moment of doubt quivering in her chest. But the air is still, gripping her with icy claws- she has to go on. Plus, what the hell is this light? This is worth an investigation.

Driven by fear and held back by it too, Laura hesitates.

The light retreats.

Laura takes a careful step.

It halts.

Using her phone to send blue, wavering light pooling onto the rubbled floor, she heads on.

After about an hour of this- and, admittedly, she’s somewhat annoyed. Every time she thinks she’s near enough to just reach out and touch the mysterious light it flits off into the impermeable darkness. The unnerving thought at what it could be is banished by her frustration.

Laura comes to a tiny staircase, coiling down into blackness. The rustle of what she thinks (and hopes she’s wrong) is spiders comes from below.

“I wonder if this used to be a mine,” she whispers. “A tiny, tiny mine.”

The light flickers, bobbing and pulsing eerily, as if beckoning, as if saying ‘come with me’.

Damn curiousity. Praying that there are no malicious supernatural creatures waiting to prey on her, Laura clatters down the rickety boards.

About ten minutes later, or what she thinks is that time interval, she has the idea to leave a trail of chocolate chips. Who cares if she read Hansel and Gretel way too much when she was young? It’s a solid idea, especially down here, if she ever wants Carmilla to find her. And she’s angry at the twisting, patternless tunnels, anyways- she’ll never find her way back without making some semblance of a path.

But like all good ideas she runs out. After tweeting by text- ’@heycarmilla- where are you?’- a tiny notification pops up. Her mounting feeling of frustration swells as the text obstinately refuses to load.


And then comes the laughing.

Laura freezes, clutching her phone more rigidly, a tight knot of panic building in her stomach.

And that’s when the glowing gnome pops out of the looming wall in front of her.

* * *

“Where the fuck,” Carmilla grits out through clenched teeth, barely suppressed frustration and overwhelming worry in her voice, “did she wander off to?”

“You never wander off into a mysterious cave system,” whispers LaFontaine, side-eyeing Carmilla, “especially not to leave your defenseless friends alone with your angry vampire girlfriend.”


“LaFontaine,” they interject, and Perry sighs; the frustration on her face is not lessened by the shadow surrounding them. There’s a moment of pause as Carmilla sends out a (probably irate) tweet.

“LaFontaine, then. You know Laura isn’t in her right mind, she’s suffering hypothermia…”

“I’m just saying,” they mutter, before perking as the tiny group halts at a narrow, rickety staircase.

Carmilla crouches down, momentarily becoming one with the darkness. “Wait,” she glances up, a rare expression of confusion on her face, “is this… chocolate chips?”

“But I thought she might have the sense to keep her food with her,” Perry groans, kneading her forehead with a long-suffered sigh.

“Well, we’re getting closer,” LaF says with a cheer that neither of the group share.

And it’s with worry that they take the steps down, Carmilla in the lead, eyes burning with paralyzing worry.

Carmilla saves both of them from a chasm that unexpectedly yawns up. But it’s a small victory. The trail is dwindling and soon it will stop completely.

And, Carmilla thinks with a mounting feeling of sinking despair, no sign of Laura.

About ten feet after walking from the abyss, and twice as many profanities from Carmilla, LaF gives a yelp of glee. It’s then that the tiny tunnel is doused in an eerie, pulsating, dim green light from a seam of rock on the wall.

“Ore! Cobalt!” When they’re met with a querying look from Perry and a snarl from Carmilla, they look disappointed. “It’s a really rare rock, I’ve never seen any. It burns on contact!”

“Oh no,” Perry says firmly, attempting to steer them away. “You and fire, not again-”

“I didn’t set the barn on fire,” they object. “That was all on the mob.”

“Need I remind you of the cocoa incident?”

Carmilla rolls her eyes, tuning out the ginger twins bickering. With trepidation, she notes that-

She’s pulled up short by a frightened yelp and a crackle, punctuated by a blaze of light. Hardly thinking, Carmilla whirls and seizes LaF by their collar just as they jerk their hands from the wall. A jet of wavering flame skirts the wall before fading with an ominous hiss and LaFontaine’s hands fly up to their now eyebrow-less forehead.

“Not again,” they cry, and Carmilla snorts before proceeding down the narrow passage.

Soon after, the trail stops immediately and there is no Laura.

But there is a huge wall, looming up.