#I know there is a scientific explanation for the tube

[sideblog-sillies]

Why in the world do we have a tube in our throat that connects to our ear??? Those shouldn't be connected??? But they are???

[confusion-is-wonderful]

I have been inspired to write some fanfic after not writing any in 10 years and it's been so long like I don't even know how to start but I have the urge to write with nowhere to go

[fictionalhoedown]

Stanford Pines x Self-Insert

Summary ;; Ford Pines discovers a strange glowing red flower, obviously he brings it back to the shack to bring it underground and study it. But Stanley has other plans, seeing it as a business opportunity, but of course he messes it up

~~~~ (I'm sorry I forgot to use they/them pronouns so this is a Stan x female self insert)~~~~

EdIt;: Im rly sorry if its bad, its been a long while since I wrote fanfic but I love this man to death I need this ;( y'all would tell me if this is shit or not right? pls hlp

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Stanley's POV

Ford comes barreling in with something glowing red in his hands "the hell is that?" his brother didn't reply, instead he neatly stacked his books and gently places on the diner table a black pot with a large glowing flower.

Similar to a Lily, three long tubes with large pollen balls on each end gently emited small visible spores. I get irritated that he's ignoring me, again, and turn the tv off to lessen the noise "hey dick face!".

He looks at me with the highest form of disrespect, "Can you please tell me what the hell that thing is doing in my living room?" Ford huffed and straightened his glasses.

"techniqly this is my house Stanley. secondly! I don't know! I found it today. But I do know that I need to drive to my lab and retrieve some nessecary equipment items that I think would be beneficial of concealing this thing until I can learn more~"

The nerdy Pine brother looked 'too' excited about this research, "riiiiight, because playing with a flower is scientific?" my brother groans again "god why are you so childish! Just let me be happy about this discovery" I held my hands up in defense.

As he packed somethings up, he takes a step and looks at me very seriously, "listen Stan, I'm gonna be gone a while. Please, do not sell the damn flower in your freak shop. And more importantly. Do. Not. Touch. It."

I look back at the flower, everything about it calling to me to not sell it but cause general mischief for my brother and his nerdy hobbies. "yeah yeah, I promise! Jeez, you really think so low of your own blood?" he rolls his eyes and exits the living room with a sarcastic "yes.".

_______________

Self-Insert's POV

My cold wet hair dripped down my hot skin, I wrapped the towel around my chest, securing it well, then clipping the bottom, for no unnecessary 'drafts' of wind.

I combed my hair back out of my face and misted some perfume on before leaving the bathroom with the intention of going to my room and getting dressed. Until, !CRASH!

Rushing down the stairs with zero regards for slipping on my ass, I make it to the bottom to find Stanley Pines, my dear close friend, face covered in what looked like red spray paint and a broken flower pot with soil on the ground.

"Stan! What the- " I run to his side, holding his face with my hands to inspect the damage. I sprint to the kitchen and get some wet paper towels, trying to gently remove the mystery color from his face.

"Yeah yeah I know, Ford told me not to touch it already. But I didn't techniqly!" As I am dabbing his nose with the wet towel I give him a 'bruh' look. He protests "I'm serious! That damn flower basically farted this stuff in my face!" I laugh at his explanation.

As I finish cleaning the last of the flower spores from his eyes and nose, I notice an unfamiliar heat radiating from him like he was a mobile fireplace. Looking at his face, I see without the spores he is very flushed and red faces, a gentle sweat beginning at his bushy silver brows.

I put my lips to his forehead to feel his temperture, only to be met with an iron skillet burning my face, "Ow! Good Lord, how are you still alive! Your burning like grits with no butter!" I push the hair from his dripping face, to better see, he seems shy and sheepish? Stanley Pines? Shy?

Stanley's POV

I can't handle it, god this was such a mistake, I should have listened to Ford! Her glowing skin was the only thing I could pay attention to, as she spoke it was like how adults speak in cartoons.

When she was cleaning my eyes with the paper towel, I felt her breath, it sent chills through my whole body, like I was a teenager again! Her neck looked so... exposed... My body was turning up the heat like it was thanksgiving day.

I unconsciously trailed my eyes downward, (Self-Insert) continued her health assessment check with me, all my senses got more and more sensative. The TV volume was on low but it sounded like it was wracking inside my skull.

The living room light looked so bright and yellow for my eyes, I thought they were gonna dry away to dust. (Self-Insert)'s smell, fueling me into my lungs and straight to my member, so sweet, like honey and vanilla.

Her touch, as she nervously holds onto my arm for foundation, I can't think about anything else but the electrical storm going on with her beautiful body being pressed up against my old ass having a stroke on the floor in my fucking boxers. Real charming Stanley.

I unknowingly found myself gripping her wrist to bring her closer, hooking my arm around her waist and cupping each hip perversely. "T-Toots-... I can't... think... I don't think I... can even breath right now... but-" looking up deep into her eyes, the tent on me rises high to the sky.

Self-Insert's POV

The elder man aggressively shoved me, falling to my back but not hitting my head, thanks to his hand engulfing the back of my skull. Stanley's arms were firmly planted next to my head, his girtle not present but his very, very large lower half pushing past my legs, nothing but the thin blue and white striped cloth gently laying against my womanhood like a dog sitting on top of the bun.

"I can't explain how much I want- no..." Stanley falls forward, dipping his head to my throat like he's gonna rip it all out, "Need you~" I watch carefully, scared but, weirdly excited? His giant hands engulfing my wrists, the heart violently beating against his palm, "Stan." I say, to try and get his attention.

Suddenly rocking his hips to an imaginary song, he shifted his hands from my wrists to my biceps, pushing his weight on me as both our pre-cum juices covered and soaked his boxers. I couldn't run, the man was 5x larger than me, and I mean, It's not like it doesn't feel good~

Stanley grunted exhastedly, looking like a horny boy humping his pillow. The stubble on his face scratched all over me as he open mouth licked me like a loli-pop and drunkenly sucked hickies from my throat to my collarbones, he kept saying stuff like "I swear. you taste so good.", "I wish I could eat you like cake~", "say my name again, and I think I'll bust".

Gently removing himself from licking my neck, Stan suddenly rips my towel open, my no longer steaming body, hitting the freezing cold ac air of the mystery shack. Not saying a word, a small dripple of saliva dripping from his lip as sweat poured from his face.

His calloused fingers found their way to my chest with no hesitation, picking each bud with his pointer and thumb and rolling them around, my breath hitched as he pulled and let them fall back watching the buds grow stuffer and pinker "pretty, pink, buds" he murmurs.

While he gawked and played with my titties, I open my legs a bit more, adding to the closeness, his shaft firmly pressed to my soaking entrance. Reaching for the elastic of his boxers, I stick my thumbs in, circling around his waist and intending to push them down, feeling his swelled tip bed for attention.

!!EHEM!!-

Stanley's POV

(Self-Insert) sat in my lap as we watched my favorite romantic drama movie, my brother sat at the table next to us, toying with his glowing flower, that surprisingly lived.

Ford gagged once more, like he did for the 100th time, "I fucking hate you Stanley.".

I groan and drop my arm from the air dramatically, "Jesus fucking Christ Ford I already said I was in the wrong and I was sorry. How was I supposed to know it was gonna spit some sexy love juice in my face!" (Self-Insert) chuckled nervously as her face turned beat read again.

"Lets all of us just forget it okay. Please? Ugh~"

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I"M SO SORRY THAT WAS BAD- It was rushed and I'm finishing this at one thirty In the morning- AND I ALSO WORK- the lengths I go for horniness...

pls like...

<3

[torukmaktoskxawng]

your point in your recent post is sooo true! but idk i don’t think the water is Acidic since Spider swam in it

Referencing this post:

Guys, please keep sending stuff like this, I love talking about the lore and world of Pandora!

Maybe calling it acidic was exaggerating on my part lol, but I know I read somewhere that the water, scientifically, wouldn't be good for humans. Sources vary depending on where you read them, but Pandoran water can damage human skin if exposed for too long. Something to do with the pH scale?

I'm gonna shamelessly plug in an excerpt from my fic (not because it's a viable source but just because. Bear with me):

Spider stood beside Max as Mo'at was handing him down some healing properties.

"Koaktutra," the tsahik placed a small wooden cup covered in a matching lid in Spider's hands.

Max noticed Kayla's confusion so he elaborates, "Goblin Thistle. Antibiotic balm."

Mo'at nodded to Max's explanation then handed another small mixture to Spider, "Pxorna'."

"Episoth," Max explained, "It's got amazing skin rejuvenation properties, and I think it'll help Spider when he goes into the water."

He takes the mixture from Spider and holds it up to the teenager's face, "As long as you remember to slather yourself in this stuff every night after a long day of swimming, it should help prevent skin cancer and chemical burns. These salves have proven to be safe for human use, I promise. If I happen to visit the island again and I don't see any changes to your skin, then maybe we'll be able to cut the episoth back to once a week and eventually even less so if your skin grows immunity to the pH levels. Until then, every night, bud. 'You got it?"

Spider huffs and rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"Good. And just in case--" Max then holds up a remedy of his own, a small plastic yellow tube that makes Kayla snort with amusement at the sight of it. Sunscreen. 

Spider's upper lip twitched at the sight of the tube and half glared at Max, "Seriously?"

"Humor me."

"Fine."

I pulled Mo'at's healing mixtures from the book "James Cameron's Avatar: An Activist Survival Guide."

Apparently, these specific plants or healing ingredients do help anti-aging back on Earth and go for a lot of money (no surprise there), so I guess there are SOME elements on Pandora that help humans.

If we think about what happens on Earth: our oxygen cycles through our water and eventually goes back up into the air. What about Pandora? If the air is toxic to humans, wouldn't that filter into the water as well?

Then again, James Cameron has admitted that he's constantly changing lore and canon so sources that were once accurate before might not be now.

And it's possible that Spider is immune to certain elements on Pandora since he was born and raised there. Or he's just got tougher skin. We already know that he's canonically strong, but who knows!

~~~

More Avatar Questions!

[candle-themindful]

// @test-tube-iii @thegoldentrophy

There’s surely something…

These have existed since forever; there should be more examples of this.

Is it magic? What’s if it needs a scientific explanation?

Well I’m not asking Test Tube, that’s for sure. I’m sure they’ll just take the opportunity to gloat over the fact that I’m wrong… would they? I don’t even know anymore…

Come on.

I have to know!

How do I not know?

I’m supposed to.

I’m…

…

I need sleep…

[schmergo]

I've recently done a little bit of research for some stuff adjacent to the production of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes that I'm in right now and, in checking whether certain scientific institutions and inventions would have existed during the time of the play, I discovered something kind of interesting: many of the ones I've looked up were coincidentally established within 5-10 years of the setting.

The first bunch of Sherlock Holmes stories, the source materials for this play, came out between 1887 and 1893. The Natural History Museum? Opened fully in 1883. The Prime Meridian? Officially established in 1884. Tower Bridge? Built between 1886-1894. The Tube running northwest from Baker Street? 1880. London's first electrical power station? 1882. Those are just the ones I happened to look up. Telegrams are common in the Sherlock Holmes tales, and by the later Sherlock Holmes stories, he's using a telephone and even automobiles are mentioned.

Reading the Sherlock Holmes stories with that context of a world full of rapid changes and advancements, I feel like it comes across differently. It seems to say, "There's a scientific answer for everything." His unique detecting style, based on simple observations, made it seem like the age-old problems of crime and criminals could be defeated by logic and reasoning. I think there's a level of idealism, that even the most difficult crimes are solvable and bad actors are no match for modern scientific knowledge.

Reading Sherlock Holmes cases often gives the comfortable feeling of order and justice being served. I think that's the same reason true crime content is so popular today in another age of rapid digital advances-- and if we guess the solution, it's doubly satisfying. It's also why Sherlock Holmes is so easily translated to modern day.

But that also makes me think about another book and another equally iconic character that came out around that same time period: Dracula, published in 1897. And Dracula takes a lot of the same themes and seems to say the exact opposite.

I think one of the biggest things that surprises first-time readers of Dracula is how modern Dracula feels and how much technology is used in the book. Like the Sherlock Holmes stories, it was set in roughly 'modern day' when it was written. The 'good guys' use trains, telephones, typewriters, and even blood transfusions. But when Dracula, an old-world monster, arrives in their modern newfangled city of London, all of that technology is useless against him. And so is any ability of theirs to deduce a simple scientific explanation for what's going on.

When Dracula starts sneaking into their friend’s house and sucking her blood each night, the signs are obvious, right down to the puncture marks on her neck. The reader and audience knows what’s up waaaay before the characters do. It’s infuriating! You want to jump up and down and yell, “A VAMPIRE IS KILLING HER!” But why don’t they see what’s right in front of their faces? Because they’re thoroughly modern upper-middle class British people who live in a scientifically advanced world and believe in reason.

The chaos of true evil is more powerful than logic and reason. To defeat him, they need to get on his level and use superstition and religion and folklore. It's the polar opposite of a story like "The Hounds of the Baskervilles," published five years later.

All that said... I would love to see a Sherlock Holmes and Dracula crossover. How long would it take Holmes to deduce that he had run into a real vampire? Would he make all the correct observations and keep coming to the wrong conclusions? Would he be able to accurately predict the patterns of Dracula's behavior when his opponent has superhuman abilities and can transform into multiple different types of animals?

Or, given Holmes' somewhat addictive and adrenaline-driven personality, his superior attunement to his senses, his surprising revival from the dead, and his innate instinct to 'catch his man' at any cost... would he himself make the most dangerous vampire of all?

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Hey mystery I have a question. While trapped in the tube frozen, do you think that Shadow could dream or anything? Do you think that he had a level of awareness of what was going on? Asking for research for a fanfic I’m writing. Also, you’re the smartest person I know so I wanted to ask.

Hello, my dear!❤️✨

This is a very interesting question. To be honest, I feel that it really depends on Shadow’s situation. I’m not entirely sure as to what direction you’re writing Shadow’s experience in for your project. (When you’ve finished, please send it to me. I wanna read it). It kinda factors into what answer I give you in the long run. For this ask, I feel that it would be safer to supply more than one potential scenario so that you have that information in hand.

Let’s make a little disclaimer first: most of what I’m sharing with you are hypothetical scenarios. As much as I would love to delve deep into this topic, I find that my answers might be… hmm… taken with a grain of salt. I express this because this is a developing field. There either isn’t much research to it, or existing case studies haven’t been updated since the early-to-mid 2000’s. Research of the topic barely have much to contribute to it for multiple reasons (I.E., finding volunteers, researchers, funding. You know, fun stuff). While these ideas and concepts are fantastic, the best I can offer are educated guessed with some research that brings some support to a claim.

It’s also important to keep in mind that this is a fictional character. Not everything needs a scientific explanation. Sometimes it’s just fun to bend the rules a little bit and let your imagination run wild! You can take all of my ideas to heart and use them, or you can throw them away in the trash. It’s not gonna hurt my feelings, Let Shadow be whatever you want him to be in your project, okay?

Alright, now for the fun stuff. Here we go!

What is REM Sleep?

To put simply, REM (rapid eye movement) sleep is the state of consciousness in which an individual experiences low function of the body to gain full rest. This is the state of sleep in which people experience dreams from as well. With this rapid eye movement, we can infer that a person is engaging with either a memory or a dream! It’s a form of memory that allows an individual to remember muscle spasms, movements, sights, smells, sounds, etc., and process nearly everything that was absorbed through an engaging environment (NSF, 2020). REM sleep play a crucial part in development of the mind. Having that down time to experience dreams and memories allows for a sense of mental and emotional maturity of past/current situations.

Infant-Like Slumber:

If the question in mind is geared towards him being created, then possibly? More than likely not. We run into a couple of problems when exploring this topic:

A). We don’t have enough information on fetal and infant development to make a logical conclusion.

B). We don’t have enough technological advances and volunteers to make this happen.

The best that I could describe is this: he would have lots of muscle spasms, but he’s dream with select sound and no pictures. His form of “dreaming” would be sensory-based and how he engaged with his environment. “Environment” being him in his stasis pod. This is the same way that newborn infants engage with their REM sleep (American Institute of Physics, 2009).

Let’s create a hypothetical scenario for you here: If Shadow’s stasis pod was built to be interactive, then I think that he would be able to hear and sense touch pretty well! His little pod could allow him to hear Maria, Gerald, and all of the other scientists in the lab while he’s still “cooking.” If touch was implied as well, then he could reflect on that physical contact. It could help create an emotional connection and recognition of safety establish with everyone even before opening his eyes (Harmon, 2010). Anthropologist like myself make it a point to share that physical touch is important through cultural and social teachings. When I mean ��physical touch,” I mean along the lines of hand holding, high five, hugging, kissing, anything! Not only does it help create of safety and familiarity, it helps individuals recognize and distinguish people to form inner circles. Individuals need physical touch for emotional development and a boost in physiological development (Cekaite et Al., 2011).

Again, this is hypothetical scenario. I did not find any indication through Gerald’s journals (SA2, Sonic Battles), Rouge’s field report, and trivia from his creators on Twitter that he was able to hear things around him while he was in his stasis pod.

Cryogenic Hypothesis:

Cryogenically freezing—otherwise known as Cryopreservation—is another iffy scenario to explore as well. Traditionally, cryogenically suspended individuals are deceased… and have bee deceased for mere minutes. Cryopreservation is not flash freezing an individual like a popsicle, these are individuals that are kept in a temperature controlled environment for extended periods of time in a liquid nitrogen temperature (Paulo, 2012).

This is a topic in the scientific community that is considered a bit controversial. Some believe that it can be real and life saving, others believe that it’s completely a pseudoscience. And then there’s a small cluster of scientists who don’t really have an opinion on it because there isn’t a lot of information on it. If there was more funding and willingness to explore this topic, then sure! I’m positive that there will be more researchers out there that would like to explore cryopreservation on human and their mental state more.

What I can tell you is that there can’t be any form of dreaming in cryopreservation. There would be cellular damage. There isn’t a trace of brainwave activity that could display REM from cryopreservation individuals. This would not be plausible for Shadow if you’d like for him to dream in your fanfic.

Comatose Hypothesis:

My final thought would be to portray him as if he were in a coma-like state for there to be a form of dreaming.

Medical research has strongly indicated that a patient’s brain does not show signs of normal sleep and wakefulness cycles, meaning that they more than likely cannot dream in a coma (Blackburn, 2023). However, it depends on the state in which the coma is caused (I.E., if the visual context of the brain is damaged or medically induced to help patients heal). Some patients that have awaken from their comas shared that they’ve felt as if they were in a dream-like state/nightmare loop. J. Schradar, a psychologist reporter for Psychology Today, shared that when she was in a coma it felt as if she viewed “memories upon memories and violently ripped away from them (Schradar, 2021).

It’s like being trapped in a maze with fuzzy feelings. You’re aware that you lived a life, but you can’t make out what you did and what happened. There would be speech and compression problems with retaining new memory. We do know that coma patients can respond to select sound as well (Blackburn, 2023). As stated in a previous section, sound plays a vital role in creating a memory. With sound—as well as following under the idea that Shadow’s in the process of being sealed away by GUN after the raid on the ARK—Shadow can build upon that and form dreams. He can form memories and emotional responses to them.

Discussion:

We know that Shadow was created with the intentions of being a cure for illness, as well as a cure for immortality (Sonic Heroes game manual). However, there are some limitations. We don’t know the true extent of his immortality. He could easily die depending on the extremity of the situation. All that we know about our ageless hedgehog-alien hybrid is that he’s got kickass air shoes and a sense of immortality.

I am much more inclined to believe that Shadow was put into an induced coma before being sealed away. Dreams and memories that Shadow had experienced in the past are behind metaphorical doors and locked away. His subconscious walks around through an endless maze of distorted images of what he engaged with in the past. He—supposedly—can hear sounds, but we’re not entirely certain of his surroundings and mental state of mind. He could absolutely have an idea of him being trapped in the fog of his mind. The only thing that he could do is relive memories of the past and be haunted by nightmares. I’m also willing to believe that he had a state of conscious (to a certain degree) while being created aboard the ARK. We’ve seen through the games that each time Shadow awakens from stasis, he already has a knowing. He displays the ability to react quickly and speak by the time his eyes open. He already has a stream of consciousness.

I feel that either of these would be an interesting approach to your personal project to explore. I’d like to share one more with you for your story. One that is a bit more of a stretch, but would be interesting to explore.

As soon as Shadow awakens by Dr. Robotnik in SA2, Shadow says the line “my name is Shadow. Since you’ve been so kind as to release me, my master, I will grant you ONE wish.” I feel that this line has a lot more meaning to it than what fans give it credit for. I don’t believe that this line was put in the game for the sake of the scene being cool and relatively cheesy. Of all the things that Shadow could have said when he was awaken, why that line? I feel that this particular line strengthens the idea that Shadow had dreams as if he were in a coma-like state. This one line could indicate that he just awoke from a revisited memory of him and Maria having philosophical talks about fulfilling their wish to go to Earth. This one line foreshadows that both Shadow and Maria had wishes. And maybe, just maybe, that would be his “dream.”

Anyways. I hope that this helps with your research for your fanfic. These are my thoughts on the subject. I’ve made sure to put sources to my thoughts for you to read further if you’re interested. Again, you don’t have to use these ideas if you don’t want to, or you can 100% use them to your full advantage. I don’t necessarily believe that we’re supposed to be thinking that hard when it comes to Shadow being awaken from his 50+ year sleep, but I can completely understand the need to question. If you have any further questions or thoughts, please feel free to ask! I’m more than happy to help! Best wishes❤️✨

[hana-bobo-finch]

Could we hear a bit more about the Hybrids of PDBC? 👀 like, do you have any examples (drawn or written out) of what exactly they're all mixed with and how they work? Also, is this how Gourdie gets a fish child? (If I'm remembering that correctly 😅)

YAYYY QUESTIONS ok ok. I’m not sure if there’s any more explanation I could give to the hybrids—admittedly the science behind it isn’t very fleshed out, but I will try my best to make an example!!!

First off, there’s not really any set components to what makes up the hybrids, as the genetic materials involved vary widely for each one. It could be assumed that there’s certain elements that go into each one that are needed to create the basic anatomical needs of the hybrids, like to confirm that they grow into a functional organism, but I dunno what those are and I think getting into the nitty gritty science of it all would be at best a waste of time (in other words I Do Not Know). But whatever those basic components are that guarantee sentience and proper biological functions for the hybrids, they’re put into small capsules known as seeds. Whatever optional materials that make the hybrids unique are then put in. Let’s say for example you want a hybrid who’s uhhh who’s French and green. Idk that’s the first thing I thought of ANYWAY. Let’s call this hypothetical hybrid Vert. You would take the base seed, and insert whatever genetic materials, hormones, dna, stuff like that that would result in something close to those characteristics. So like, you’d use a Frenchman’s dna and maybe some sorta chemical in the blood that would give the skin a greenish hue, or you could have the hybrid soak in a sort of dye as it grows that would permanently turn the skin green, etc etc etc. There’s also a psychological aspect of it—like this hypothetical hybrid, Vert, even if he’s technically French, you’d have to really convince him he’s French, and that he loves baguettes and wears little berets if you want a walking talking French stereotype (though most hybrids pick up traits naturally). Does it make any logical scientific sense, no. You just gotta go along with it or none of it works. So, this seed containing the elements of what will soon be the hybrid Vert, is planted in the Patch. The seed slowly grows into the complete hybrid over the course of a year, provided nothing in the process goes awry. And then bam you got yourself a hybrid. For a hastily done visual representation:

So yeh!!! Very rough example but hopefully it gets the point across. As to how they work after they’re “harvested,” they pretty much function as any normal person. The growing process isn’t that exciting, it’s really just an amorphous blob that slowwwwly becomes a sentient being. The only real identifying characteristics of hybrids is that they have scarring on their palms from the tubes and on their ankles from where they’re cut (kinda like an umbilical cord I guess?)

AS FOR THE FISH DAUGHTER: no actually, Gourdie got her fish daughter from bringing her dying pet fish to some fella with demonic powers who gave the fish human life!!! You were close actually, cause iirc, in-universe the hybrids were created as a sort of rebuttal to the whole fish daughter thing, and the first hybrid actually has genetic components from the fish daughter. But yea I think that’s it for the hybrids, thanks for the question!!! YIPPEE (EXPLODES)

[lukelxiv]

I believe in magic. I believe in things outside of scientific explanation. I believe in fate.

When my father had an arteriovenous malformation in his brain burst, he hit the floor face first. My step mother thought he was dead. I had randomly decided to get off early that day, living about 30 minutes away from where I worked at the time. This town was closer to my father than the city I worked in. So, as I sat outside in the sun, doodling, I got the call from my adopted brother. He told me my dad was being rushed to the hospital and that he'd had a stroke.

I immediately packed my bag, and my husband and I sped to the other side of the state, pushing the speed limit most of the way. We made it across the pass about half an hour before there was a landslide that closed the pass for 3 days. If I had still lived in the city, I might not had made it to my father for days. If I had not gotten off early that random spring day, I might not had made it to my father for days.

When we got there, the diagnosis was grim. He'd bled in his brain heavily, he did have a stroke after the burst and he was currently in surgery attempting to save his life.

In my purse, I had packed the medicine bag my father gave to me when I was 7. It was soft buckskin, with a little carved salmon trinket on one of the strings made from polished abalone shell. I had kept that medicine bag amongst my most treasured possessions since childhood and I would often hold it close when life was tough and I didn't have anyone to talk to about what was happening to me.

My father told me, very seriously when I was young, to never open it. Ever. It would let all the magic out. You can bet that 7 year old me was so curious to know what the magic inside looked like, what items had been placed there that had been deemed magical and held such otherworldly allure. I never opened it. I would smell it often, and it smelled like lavender and sweet grass and something I could never really place, but it was warm spice and smelled like home. There were small stones in it, but I never knew what colors they were or where they came from. This was all part of the magic.

My father made it out of surgery, full of tubes and his eyes swollen shut with the bruises he'd got from falling on his face. We were told he'd likely never regain consciousness and would be in a vegetative state until we decided to pull the plug on the machines that were breathing for him. I was 25 years old and I was not ready to lose my father. I felt I was too young to say goodbye to the man I had had such a wonderful, tumultuous, agonizing relationship with.

My father had been an addict most of his adult life, and those of us who have addict family members know the struggle and the pain of watching someone who means the world to you make choices, driven by their disease, that puts them further and further off the path of health and happiness. I wanted him to have time. He needed more time.

I, stubbornly, refused to believe this was going to be the outcome. That I would have to say goodbye to him there and then. So I refused to believe it. I took the medicine bag out of my purse and put it in his left hand and asked the nurse to please keep it with him at all times. I wanted him to have all the magic in that bag. I wanted it to be real. I wanted him to open his eyes and say 'Hey, Bug. I didn't mean to scare you.'

He had another stroke the next day and was put into surgery again. Bless the nurse who told the doctor that she would not remove the medicine bag from his hand, nor would he. That it needed to stay with him, period. I hope that woman is blessed beyond measure wherever she is at now.

I remember asking the universe, the Great Spirit, the gods of my father to please, please, please give me one more year. I was not ready to let him go yet. I was not ready for the heartbreak of saying goodbye. I could not stand it. So please, Great Spirit, Universe, Gods of my father - please give me one more year with him.

I talked to him once he was out of his second surgery. For hours. I would tell him what had happened - he had to he scared that he could not open his eyes and was stuck in darkness with machines beeping around him and people poking and prodding at him. I told him he was in the hospital, what it looked like in his room, how he was laying, what it looked like outside his window. I would touch his face and hands gently, his legs, his arms. I named them as I did so he could feel them again. I told him he could find his way out of the darkness, but he had to fight through it. He had to try for me.

The 5th day came and he squeezed my hand - so tightly it took the breath out of me. 'I'm HERE', is what that hand squeeze said, 'I am HERE and I am FIGHTING and I love you'. I squeezed his hand back, he squeezed mine back, and it went on like that for a few minutes. It was the strangest and yet the best hug I've ever received. He was there. He was fighting.

The days progressed with him being able to squeeze hands to communicate - once for yes, two times for no. His medical team was amazed. He began to heal. I had to leave to return to my side of the state and to a job that would not allow me further time to tend to him 8 days after his incident. He opened his eyes on day 9. I was not there to see them, but I know he looked for me. I hope I did not disappoint him by not being there when he did.

My job kept me busy and underpaid enough that driving or flying over to see him was not in the cards. But he got to go home. He got to see his grandkids. He got to sit outside with the sun on his face. He got a tracheotomy to keep his airways clear and so that he didn't inhale food, but he would call me and as best he could, tell me how much he loved me. I have a voicemail saved from him that I listen to when I need to hear his gravelly voice again.

One year, to the exact date, my father was back in the hospital. He got pneumonia and sepsis, blue coded (where his heart stopped entirely for a few minutes) and was declared brain dead. There truly was no coming back from this one, and I knew it when I saw him. He was there, but his spirit was already somewhere else. This was simply the shell that was left over. The magic had been used up.

I never knew what happened to my father's medicine bag. I like to imagine that it left with him, after the magic was spent and the wish had been granted. I like to imagine he's still out there somewhere holding onto it for me until I see him again.

I am thankful I never opened it. I am thankful that it had enough magic in it to grant my father one more year on this earth, one more turn around the sun. I am thankful to the Great Spirit, the Universe and the gods of my father who listened to me that day and gave me the magic I so desperately hoped for.

I believe in magic.

[greenlodgecypher]

Light from Outside

Part 1

A short story, by Gillian

1/4

Holding dinner at my aunt's gave the evening an air of elegance.

I gave each of my guests an amulet as they entered, which did something to give it an air of mystery, too. They were stone, with letters scored into the surface, and wired up without much art to hang from a necklace cord. "Go on; wear them," I said. "They're not pretty, but they do the job." Dinner was a bit more curious than usual, what with everyone wearing the pendants. When we sat back to enjoy coffee, I started to tell my story. "I’ve been here at my auntie's house, lately. I’m sorry about that, by the way, Eliot; I meant to keep our appointment last week, and I really am look forward to next time. As it turns out, though, it was better for us not to be at my parents’ house. "As you know, I use several instruments in my study of the unseen. I usually call the entities ghosts, but you’d be right to ask if that’s really correct. After all: what should I mean by ‘ghost’? Do I mean the spirit of a deceased human? What about the spirits of living humans? You were correct, Eliot, to ask me once why my ghost-light did not react to living humans as well as dead ones. What is it about the ghost, then, that I am detecting? Are there other beings or phenomena that I detect, when my ghost-light shines? "All of this is to say that, when I am vetting my mothers’ antiques for safety, it’s not necessarily hauntings that I am vetting for. It’s as good a term as any, because her customers smile in urbane amusement and those who believe in the supernatural will accept my explanations. That doesn’t mean it’s a very scientific approach. “Well, this past month, I had an experiment that addressed this problem. You see, my ghost-light is a rather unique device. It reacts to that unseen force—call it supernatural, if you must—that I call ghosts, and it functions as a measurement of the high strangeness that surrounds some objects. So it is useful, and so I have been able to reliably inform my mother if we suspect that harm might come to her customers. I have been able to take it on a ‘ghost hunt’ or two, and occasionally to entirely unreputed places, to witness it react (or not react) as it will. “But how does it work? You must know: it was never meant to do this at all. Here is my light; you see the vacuum tube in the center. It lights up a nice, moody purple; but of course it’s quiet now. It is one of a case of vacuum tubes. I had them from the back room of an electrical engineering firm. A family member once worked for it, and they made several experiments in addition to working on traditional installations. “You mean NAI?” Sayers asked. “The same,” I said. “The old shop was along the way in Mantel Mill, where there’s only a field now. You might remember it—it was demolished in 1989. “There, they worked on the boring, but secret, stuff. Signal amplification, rectifiers, odds and ends that might have become useful in espionage or space communications, but which were esoteric enough to take really particular minds. So four or five engineering hermits worked there, along with the lab facilities to produce the experiments themselves."

Part 2

[goldryush]

⌗ dreamies as your classmates

w.c. : 2.1k

warnings : language!!

ib : a midsummer night dream(like literally and not the Shakespeare drama) ++ @njmverse feeding my delusional head

Hyuck - the neighbourhood bestie that you walk to school and back home with. Seems like the kind of guy who never pays attention in class but is actually really good at studies. Either the teachers love him or hate him, there's no in-between. Gets called up to solve problems on board because the teachers are either like, "Oh he never pays attention, let's see how much he really knows" OR "Since no one else can do it, I know donghyuck can". Gamer guy who hates IT as a subject. Says java won't help him in his life(he's right). Is friends with everyone except that one person *cough* his academic rival *cough* but in the end he respects them because of "sportsmanship" (well he just envies them but you can't really say that out loud, right‽). The kind of guy who often forgets his pencil case back at home and borrows them from his seatmate. Is really intelligent but you wouldn't have guessed it had you joined during the mid session because he is always cracking jokes in between the lectures but you're glad because honestly, that's what keeps you up when the teacher is explaining the named reactions on the board. He is that one kid who cheers for his friends even when they're called upon to give a viva exam, just hyping everyone up in general. He skips school but still manages to get all the tea(he has his sources). Sometimes even sells the tea to jeno in return for jeno buying him his favorite snack after school.

Jaemin - Always has extra pens/pencils just in case his seatmate forgets theirs at home (like they always do). The kind of guy who would give you the middle page of the notebook in case you run out of pages OR you need it for a class test(might even keep an extra notebook to take those middle pages from but shh!) He's just really nice for y'all. Pays extra attention during lectures even though his seatmate is loud as hell and keeps cracking jokes in between the lectures. Has never skipped school so he knows all the drama. Always has his notes organized so you know whom to ask for the notes of the classes you skipped. Is probably in the cooking/baking club. Brings extra test tubes on lab days and always wears his protective glasses, a lab coat and gloves in the lab. The one who delivers news during morning assembly and he loves his job. Always keeps this mini book of thoughts that Mark gifted him on his birthday and is the one you should go to when you don't have your "thought of the day" prepared. Speaking of Mark, Mark is his debate buddy and he gets extra aggressive while debating. This one-time jaemin started a whole another debate with mark just because mark said that the earth is flat (p.s - hyuck dared him to!!). He is the kind of guy who always seeks a logical or scientific explanation for everything (shooting stars are nothing but a ball of gases for him). The kind of guy who always brings lunch and always packs extra in case someone doesn't brings their *cough* jisung *cough*. On days where you don't have to come to school in the uniform, Jaemin arrives that day, dressed up like he listens to the neighbourhood but actually has paper rings playing in his headphones <\3. Hates when it's his class' turn to pick up the trash but he doesn't like to see the monitors working alone so he helps.

Jisung - the (not so) SHY kid. ok lemme make it very clear, jisung is definitely that one kid with an innocent face but has never once been innocent and no he's NOT living his first life, my guy is just really genuinely curious about the nervous system of a plant (p.s: plants do NOT have a nervous system). Absolutely loathes public speaking and is somehow passing his speaking skill exams with somewhat okay-ish grades (let's be honest, speaking skills are a nightmare, I'm proud because at least he's not failing the class like me). Always the first one to be chosen in the dance team because he's really talented but people misinterpreted his love for being on stage as him being confident during public speaking and now when he is chosen as the one to lead the morning assembly the next day, he's already making plans to escape it. He wishes for it to rain the next day so they won't have an assembly in the first place OR if they don't have school because of heavy rain the next day, even better!! He even asked Jeno how he completes his notes when he skips school. To Jisung's luck, the next day is probably one of the brightest ones of the decade but he doesn't skip school because he's NOT a weakling >:(. He might stutter a little here and there but feels like he can achieve anything once he is done with the assembly. Teachers always complain about how he is the least talkative one among his classmates, to his parents but little do they know that this boy doesn't know how to shut up, he just has a very,,,very low volume. This one time he laughed at one of Hyuck's mid-lecture jokes in the classroom that was pin-drop silent, the teacher made him stand up for the entire period. Poor boy even stopped smiling in class ever since. Even the teachers from other classes were shocked when jisung got punished for laughing because they knew him as the quiet kid. He embodies 'this is me trying' by Taylor swift and relates to that song a little too much (just because of the public speaking class he takes). Loves chemistry and is probably Jaemin's lab partner because he's the only one who takes proper precautions while working in a lab(except Jaemin of course). When given the responsibility of carrying the teacher's diary, he gets all happy and cheerful that his teachers finally find him responsible enough to assign him a class duty but is scared shitless when he realizes that he forgot the class diary by the swimming pool. Jisung is that kind of guy who brings lunch money instead of actual lunch but don't worry, Jaemin always has an extra toast for Jisung and Jisung only. 

Mark : Is probably the monitor of the class. You think he's kinda cute but you slap yourself back to reality with a "he's just doing his monitor duties". Super nice to everyone, everyone loves him and those who don't, they're just evil(like Chenle said). Teachers love him and they show their love by assigning him classroom duties. Mark is responsible for literally everything. Cleaning the board after every lecture, bringing in the chalks if there aren't enough chalks, collecting the notebooks for inspection day(yk the day where all the books and notebooks of all the students are checked whether they have their notes completed or not), you name it. Most of the class monitors stand in the front, he stands at the extreme back because he is #builtdifferent (jk, he just thinks that you have a better view of the entire class from the back). He is that one guy who is extra careful with everything else but doesn't know who took his pencil (p.s. it's hyuck). Can come up with "thought of the day" on spot but no one appoints him for this role :(. Is very passionate about the public speaking class, that's his favourite class after English literature. He thinks that it's his main character moment whenever it's his turn to speak(and he's right). Always aces the speaking skill exam. Uses a lot of filler words in between but still makes so much sense. He is very responsible, so much so that he was the one to pick up the class diary that jisung left by the pool. Tried out for basketball club but he missed the final shot(it was a bad day, he's actually good at basketball and plays it during games period) so he ended up joining the creative writing club, the one he always wanted to join <\3. Teachers often pick him for debates because whatever he says sounds convincing. Isn't interested in gossip but always somehow always ends up being the first one to know about them. 

Renjun - He hates noise. That one time when Mark was absent and the whole class was being noisy, Renjun went up to the board, took the chalk and slid it against the board which made that screeching sound (that's painful to the ears yk) and everyone became dead silent. He's basically the unannounced class president. He gets distracted very easily and always ends up laughing at serious situations. Probably in the art club, he seems like an art kid(maybe because I've read so many fics where he's an artist but even if I didn't know him, I'd take him as the art kid, he just radiates that aura, you know?!). History and Political science are his second favourite subjects. Can't take and won't take teacher's bs, would call them out, might even complain about them to the principal ;-;. The kid who stands up against the wrong and preaches about how you shouldn't judge someone in the first place and then he continues to befriend people based on the artists they follow on Spotify(he's trying you guys!!). He is the guy who never takes the first seat and says that it's too near so he just sits on the second seat. Doesn't follows the seat rotation, saying he has bad eyesight and then on days when you have to sit in front of him, he will keep telling you to move your head because he can't see the board so this one time you just gave up and ducked but ended up hitting your head on the table instead (like Jinsoul did it in that one vlive). He would share everything except his sharpened wooden pencils because he's afraid someone might chew them off(tbh he's so right here♡).

Chenle - The kind to discuss soap opera plots in school and have a heated debate on the character development of the antagonist(with jaemin ofc ;-;). Loves astronomy (we've seen everything from Saturn to mars- I meant as in the subject astronomy?!!) Hence he is the only kid in class who loves geography as well when the entire class loathes that one subject. Snitches by reminding the teacher that they had homework due but only when he has done it, hates when anyone else snitches. Art class is a free period for him but can draw pretty decently and when he gets praised for his work, he probably says that there's still room for improvement OR he could've done better. If Jaemin is someone who takes every precaution while working in a lab, then chenle is someone who holds a test tube with his bare hands when he forgets to bring the holder(when he told the teacher about it, they said that it won't get too hot so he can just hold it with his bare hands :0 and he does). He definitely is in the music club and plays instruments and maybe he's in the school choir, you never know(so he can have his we've seen everything, from Saturn to Mars moment-).

Jeno : He probably skips school a lot because it's fun(or maybe he just has that one subject that he despises) but is always present in after school activity clubs. Pretty convinced that he does some kind of martial arts, can't really pinpoint one. Never misses the days when he has gym/game period. His notes are often incomplete and messy(only he can understand them) so now he hates inspection day(they don't even open all the notebooks so what really is the point of inspection ?). He's always laughing at Hyuck's jokes, so much that he thinks Hyuck is the class clown but in fact, jeno is the funny one, everyone loves him. You took it upon yourself to tell him that he's funny by telling him that Mark laughed so hard at one of his jokes that he almost spit out his juice but Jeno denied saying Mark laughs at everything. Probably plays games in the computer lab. He is the kind to turn in his homework and assignments at the last minute. You often find him doodling on desks or zoned out in between lectures but his books are always annotated with rough diagrams, that is, he loves to learn but he isn't really fond of the idea of listening to the teacher reading a book out loud for hours. 

a/n : this was very very self indulgent so tyvm for reading ♡

Ⓒ goldryush (added this after i got 9 rbs so it might not appear in those rbs but this work is completely mine and i wrote this after squeezing my dream off of my brain so please don't steal or plagiarize my work ;-;)

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello! I ADORE your writing! Your headcanons for the clones finding out their SO is pregnant is my absolute favorite! Could I request a fic to expand on Tech's please? Like his realization and telling reader and her being happy and his scientific indifference at first and then reader comforting him as he cries once it does dawn on him the magnitude of what is happening? I just loved that so much, and I'd like more please. Lol. Thank you so much!!

Lol, you know, I'm really glad you requested this. I really liked that headcanon for him if I do say so myself :))

Tech x fem!SO | 1.4k words

Based on this headcanon.

Tech's tears were small and quiet, but also heavy and meaningful. Most didn't believe they existed, and for a long time, Tech himself didn't either. He was programed for logic and thought and reason. But not even the Kaminoans could take away his humanity. His tears, when they came, revealed that distant yet fundamental part of himself that wasn't always accessible by mere thought and reasoning. Emotion, spirit, empathy, love. That part was always there, deep within him, tucked away and made to behave. Until those few impactful moments of life pulled it forth, made it leak out in gentle little droplets, an ironic juxtaposition of what they truly represented.

And Tech, in all his exceptional mental prowess, could do nothing but accept that part of himself, and let its physical manifestations run their course.

It had been a while since the last time he'd been forced to confront those mysterious emotions. Sometimes we wondered if he ever would again. He hadn't cried on their missions, even the hard ones with so much death and destruction. He hadn't cried when their brother left. He hadn't cried when their home fell into the sea. There didn't seem to be any other significant experiences that could possibly pull them out again.

When he first knew his beloved was pregnant, it was long before she did. He was completely dialed in to her. How she was doing, what she was up to, all her habits and patterns and tendencies. So of course he saw the signs, all the symptoms that, on their own seemed inconsequential, but put together could only mean one thing. He did let himself smile upon that first realization, but he did not cry. He did not feel. It was all business and research and preparation. As a clone who entered this life from a tube, he'd have a lot to learn about these things.

When she first learned the news, after he couldn't keep her prying eyes away from his research, he let out a chuckle. Her face had contorted into a few different expressions as she processed his explanation, finally landing on one that could only be described as pure joy. Bright and lively, full of hope, a new kind of beauty he had yet to see from her. Her eyes had welled, but not his. After his subdued laughter over her reaction, and a brief moment of indulging in her embrace, he had to get them back on track. There was much to do and only a short time to do it.

As they started hitting each of those pregnancy milestones - seeing the first signs of a bump, hearing the first heartbeats, feeling the first kicks - Tech continued to maintain his usual practicality. It wasn't that he didn't care or was indifferent; on the contrary, he poured himself into the care of his partner and the development of their child with as much hyper-focused passion as he did any other project. Charts, reminders, books, exercises, supplements, homemade ultrasound devices... you name it, Tech thought of it.

But he didn't feel it.

At least, not until he did.

It was random, sudden. It didn't make any logical sense why he'd find himself crying now, in this specific moment. But, he supposed emotion wasn't supposed to make logical sense, was it?

He was waiting for his love to return from a walk, one she'd insisted on taking herself. Usually he'd have insisted otherwise, but she'd been showing a level of crankiness that week that he tactfully decided to not argue with. So instead he stayed on the ship and worked on one of his experiments, unrelated to their future child, but still important in his mind.

And then he'd set his bits and bobs down in order to stretch some of his stiff muscles, and as his head turned and his eyes scanned over the ship's interior, it was then that he felt... well, feelings.

The Havoc Marauder hadn't changed drastically since they'd first acquired it, but there were still plenty of ways it had adapted to the changing lives of those who called it home. The nook in the back had been altered as a room especially for Omega. Additional bunks had been screwed into the walls to accommodate the various beings they picked up, a few of whom ended up becoming permanent members of their team. Souvenirs that Hunter's partner had picked up from their travels were being displayed. Extra ports had been added for Echo's cybernetics to recharge and receive maintenance. Wrecker had finally been allowed a crate of explosives onboard, mostly to lift in his workouts, but occasionally to give them all lessons on disassembling. All signs of Crosshair had been removed so as to avoid unwanted reminders of what once was.

And now, Tech was seeing the things that showed how his own life was finally changing, too.

A cot in the corner by the bed he shared with his cyare, a small and safe cocoon for their little one. A plush animal some of the boys had pitched in to buy when they heard the news. A bag stuffed with bottles and blankets and pacifiers. A small stack of board books, one of which Omega had written with tales of their past adventures.

The images of his growing family became blurred as those illusive tears finally resurfaced. He couldn't believe it, couldn't fathom it. He was going to be a father. He was going to have a child. Him. Tech. This was going to be his life.

His cheeks grew wet and at some point his knees collapsed beneath him, but none of that registered as he struggled to comprehend these emotions that forced their way out of him. He tried to identify them, give them a name, take away some of their power over him through understanding. The first one he could put his finger on was confusion. Some kind of disbelief. It didn't make sense and therefore it didn't seem real. But unlike simple knowledge gaps that could easily be filled in with a bit of dedicated curiosity, this emotion couldn't be so easily remedied. It perpetuated a seemingly endless loop of questions without answers in his head... questions about why this was happening, and whether he deserved his own family, and how were they to raise a child in this vast, unpredictable galaxy?

The next emotion he picked out was... fear, perhaps? Yes, that must be it. And oh boy, was that a strong one to feel. That was what gave the tears energy, spurring them forward as they buzzed across his skin. He wasn't ready. No amount of research was going to prepare him to be a father. He didn't even have one of his own. None of them did. Who did he think he was to try and be one himself anyway? If he was actually as smart as he thought he was, he would run from such a foolish dream.

But that wasn't all, no. No, that couldn't be all he felt. Because he wasn't running away. He was still here, waiting for that special date, continuing to plan for it, looking forward to it. Setting up that cot and taking care of its mom and fiddling with little devices to help it grow. He was excited. Happy. Hopeful.

There was more, he knew there was more that he was feeling. But he eventually decided to focus on the hope. That was the one that seemed to matter the most. The rest could do their thing, he wouldn't question them any longer. He allowed this hopeful feeling to settle within him. It gave his tears meaning and worth. It washed out the noise from the fear and confusion and replaced it with comfort and light.

When his beautiful ka'ra returned, she found him sitting amongst those emotions on the ship's floor, an unprecedented and worrying sight. She hurried up to him, kneeling as best she could to meet his watery eyes.

"Dear? What's wrong?" she asked with trepidation, smoothing a hand across his damp face and into his hair.

Tech only looked her gently, almost dreamily. Somewhere in his numbed mind he knew these emotions were exhausting him, making him sleepy and faint. He reached out to place a hand on her belly, marveling at the fact that there was only a thin barrier between him and his child. And by that token, only a small stretch of time between them as well.

"Nothing's wrong," he whispered as another stream of tears seeped out. "Nothing's wrong at all."

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla’s Ether Theory

By J. J. J.

The ether is considered a universal medium consisting of a primary substance, attenuated beyond conception, which fills all space and connects all matter. This medium, or field of force, is responsible for action at a distance—a concept where an object can interact with other objects even though they are separated in space. This idea still baffles today’s physicists, but was understood by Nikola Tesla long before Albert Einstein coined his “spooky action at a distance”.

Before I get into Tesla’s explanation of the ether, I must first recall the famous 1887 Michelson-Morley experiment, because I know some readers will immediately bring it up. The experiment was intended to detect the ether using light beams and mirrors to record the speed of light through the ether relative to the Earth’s movement around the Sun; however, the two scientists failed to detect the ether and it became one of the most famous failed experiments in history. Surprisingly though, the experimenters did not account for the fact that the speed of light was relative to the observer moving with the apparatus, which led to the null effect. What it did, rather, was prove that the average velocity of light for a round trip between a beam splitter and a mirror was independent of motion through space. Either way, physicists agreed that by its nature, the ether cannot be detected and it is unnecessary for explaining how light travels through space.  

It was Heinrich Hertz, who during the same time as the Michelson-Morley experiment, demonstrated the notion of action at a distance proving the existence of electromagnetic waves first predicted by James Clerk Maxwell in 1864. Since these waves travel across space, there must be a medium carrying the waves. Like Maxwell, Hertz postulated that ether was structureless beyond conception, and yet solid and possessed a rigidity incomparably greater than the hardest steel. Electromagnetic waves were then believed to be transverse waves (waves that vibrate at ninety degrees angles).

In the early 1890s, Nikola Tesla repeated Hertz’s experiments with a much improved and a far more powerful apparatus, coming to the conclusion that what Hertz observed were longitudinal waves in a gaseous medium propagated by alternate compression and expansion. After discovering these results, Tesla declared that light, and other electromagnetic waves, are not transverse waves (a theory still believed today in conventional physics), but instead are a longitudinal disturbance in the ether involving alternate compressions and rarefactions. In his own words, “light can be nothing else than a sound wave in the ether.  Since light has such a constancy of velocity, light can only be explained by assuming that it is dependent solely on the physical properties of the medium, especially density and elastic force.” It wasn’t until after Nikola Tesla met with Hertz and explained his results that Hertz then changed his views on the ether and accepted that it was a gaseous medium rather than a stationary one.

Believing that the ether was one of the most important results of modern scientific research, Tesla refused to abandon it because in his mind the ether was an important key to understanding how electrical energy could travel through space without wires. He displayed this phenomenon in numerous experiments and lectures throughout the 1890s.

It wasn’t until 1896 when Tesla finally obtained experimental proof of the ether. He invented a new form of vacuum tube which could be charged to any high potential and operated with pressures up to 4,000,000 volts. In 1929, Tesla spoke of these vacuum tubes saying, “One of the first striking observations made with my tubes was that a purplish glow for several feet around the end of the tube was formed, and I readily ascertained that it was due to the escape of the charges of the particles as soon as they passed out into the air; for it was only in a nearly perfect vacuum that these charges could be confined to them. The coronal discharge proved that there must be a medium besides air in the space, composed of particles immeasurably smaller than those of air, as otherwise such a discharge would not be possible. On further investigation I found that this gas was so light that a volume equal to that of the earth would weigh only about one-twentieth of a pound.”

To explain the density of the ether, Tesla referred to William Thomson’s equations. In 1932, Tesla said, “Its density has been first estimated by Lord Kelvin and conformably to his finding a column of one square centimeter cross section and of a length such that light, traveling at a rate of three hundred thousand kilometers per second, would require one year to transverse it, should weigh 4.8 grams. This is just about the weight of a prism of ordinary glass of the same cross section and two centimeters length which, therefore, may be assumed as the equivalent of the ether column in absorption. A column of the ether one thousand times longer would thus absorb as much light as twenty meters of glass. However, there are suns at distances of many thousands of light years and it is evident that virtually no light from them can reach the earth. But if these suns emit rays immensely more penetrative than those of light they will be slightly dimmed and so the aggregate amount of radiations pouring upon the earth from all sides will be overwhelmingly greater than that supplied to it by our luminary. If light and heat rays would be as penetrative as the cosmic, so fierce would be the perpetual glare and so scorching the heat that life on this and other planets could not exist.”

According to Nikola Tesla’s ether theory, all matter in the universe is metamorphous from the ether. When the ether is set in motion, it becomes gross matter. All matter, then, is merely ether in motion. In 1900, Tesla said, “By being set in movement, ether becomes matter perceptible to our senses; the movement arrested, the primary substance reverts to its normal state and becomes imperceptible. If this theory of the constitution of matter is not merely a beautiful conception, which in its essence is contained in the old philosophy of the Vedas, but a physical truth, then if the ether whirl or atom be shattered by impact or slowed down and arrested by cold, any material, whatever it be, would vanish into seeming nothingness, and, conversely, if the ether be set in movement by some force, matter would again form. Thus, by the help of a refrigerating machine or other means for arresting ether movement and an electrical or other force of great intensity for forming ether whirls, it appears possible for man to annihilate or to create at his will all we are able to perceive by our tactile sense.”

In summary, Tesla experimented, and proved his theories using the scientific method. His methods were far more superior to other physicists of his time, because he had the motors and transformers invented by himself to help with his experiments. These include the induction motor, his Telsa coil, and many more apparatuses. In the future the ether may be referred to as dark matter, the force etc., but Nikola Tesla’s ether theory will be proven true in years to come.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

all my tubes and wires and careful notes

Fandom: Kamen Rider Ghost

Characters: Tsukimura Akari, Alia

Song: "She Blinded Me With Science," Thomas Dolby (playlist here)

Note: Thank you to @si-siw for letting me borrow your headcanon and infecting me with this ship! I hope you enjoy the story!

The skies of the Ganma World may be clear, but the ground remains in a state, and so Akari and Igor have been working non-stop for nearly five hours when they hear a quiet, polite cough and look up to see Alia standing in the laboratory doorway. When she has their attention, she says, softly, “Are you on the verge of any particular scientific breakthroughs?”

Igor seems poised to launch into an extended explanation of what they’ve been working on, but Akari cuts him off with, “Not really. Decent progress, but nothing big yet.”

“I see. Thank you.” Then, directly to Igor, “In that case, I will need to borrow Miss Akari for a short period. You should use this time to have a meal, you’ve been working for some time.”

Blinking, Akari makes sure all of her notes are in order and then follows Alia out of the room and down the hall. “What did you need me for?”

She can see the curl of Alia’s tiny smile just from the way it changes her profile, before her mouth has even really moved. “I wanted company for lunch. And,” slightly more quietly, “I thought you might like some time out of Igor’s company.”

“I—yeah, I really do, thank you. He’s not a bad research partner, he’s just…” Akari gestures vaguely as she hunts for the right words and then settles on the diplomatic, “high energy. Plus at some point I’m going to have to explain the whole ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he very persistent?”

“No, you know, he really isn’t, but it’s still a conversation that we’ll need to have.” They turn a corner, go through a doorway, and are unexpectedly in a small sitting room, mostly plainly decorated, although one wall holds a painting that Akari blinks at. “Wait, did Cubi paint that?”

The tiny curl of a smile comes back. “He did. It makes the room brighter. Please, sit.”

Lunch is already served, the small table set with tea and sandwiches, and when Akari sees them her stomach growls, and she blushes. “Excuse me, I guess I am hungry.”

“Then sit down, please, and eat.”

Something seems odd as they sit down to eat, but Akari’s so hungry that she doesn’t bother working out what it is at first, in favor of wolfing down sandwiches as she gives Alia a progress report on the soil research. It’s nothing to do with the food, at least. Not the tea either, although the blend is unfamiliar. Certainly it isn’t Alia’s manner, she’s listening and asking thoughtful questions as always.

It’s—

“I love your manicure,” she’s saying, “sometimes I wish I could do fun stuff with my nails, but I do so much with my—I’m sorry.” She lowers her cup, blinking. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hands before.”

Alia looks down at her own hands, wrapped primly around her teacup. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“I, if this is rude to ask then stop me, but do you hide them on ohh.” Akari trails off mid-sentence as a pattern of vividly pink circuitry pulses from Alia’s wrists to her manicured fingertips. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

There’s a moment of silence as Alia stares at her in faint but obvious surprise. “Do you think so?” She lifts one hand from her cup and turns it in the air, as if she’s seeing it for the first time herself. “They’re prosthetic. My real hands were badly injured in one of the early trials of Eyecon technology. These are lifelike, but as you can see, they aren’t a perfect counterfeit.” The circuit pattern pulses down them again as she holds her hand out to Akari, a stylized eye appearing for a moment in the center of her palm. “My father preferred to address the issue as he addressed many others in his later life, by ignoring it, and so I became accustomed to keeping my hands concealed. In my Eyecon form they were whole, of course, but old habits are hard to break.”

Akari stares at Alia’s extended hand in shock and fascination. “I…wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

“It’s all right. It was more than a hundred years ago at this point.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose it…wait, if your hands are prosthetic then how did you manage the manicure? Are they acrylic?”

“They’re magnetic.” Suddenly smiling, Alia sets down her teacup and removes one of her pointed, painted thumbnails, revealing dull metal beneath, and then puts it back on. “Alain had several sets made for me as a gift shortly after we all returned to inhabiting our original flesh.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“He’s always been a thoughtful boy.”

Akari takes a sip of tea, amused by the reminder that of course Alain’s sister still thinks of him as a boy, and the meal continues in companionable silence for a few minutes until she realizes something else. “You were involved in the original Eyecon trials?”

Another one of those tiny curls of smile. “Of course. I was Edith’s research assistant for many years.”

“You were? Why didn’t he ever—of course he never mentioned, why would he give someone else credit. What parts of the project did you work on?”

“Oh, most of them, I’m primarily an engineer but I’ve dabbled in a number of scientific disciplines. And I do some design as well. Would you like to see my workshop?”

“I would love to.”

---

The first thing Akari sees are the notebooks. The heavy bookcase in Alia’s lab does hold some academic texts, but more than half of it is packed with enormous ledgers bound in dark leather, so many that she’s shocked the shelves don’t groan under their weight. Two more lie open on an enormous rolltop desk, their unlined pages filled with with notes and sketches in a tiny, precise hand. On the walls hang several large, heavy parchment sheets, on which are hand-drawn diagrams of machinery, hibernation capsules, an exploded Eyecon, and—

“Is that…Alain’s suit?”

“Yes.” Alia reaches up and trails a fond hand down the edge of the diagram, which is labeled Necrom—for Adel? Alain. “I designed it.”

“Oh.”

“And here is Makoto’s.” The next diagram, Makoto’s name written at the top in ink much less faded than the rest. “And the next one is an early draft of what eventually became Takeru’s, although Edith did some further work with it that he didn’t inform me about. He designed and built the transformation devices, but the suits are my work.”

“Oh, I…” Akari stares up at the diagrammed suits, the close-up sketches of tiny components, more of Alia’s perfect handwriting in notes that she can only partially read. Some are in Japanese, but others are in Latin, and more are in a language that she doesn’t recognize. There are more diagrams, too, rolled up in a wooden bin, each one neatly labeled. Specter 1.0, Necrom (Alternates), Wraith, Manes and Lemures, Eyecon (Prototype), Hands. And the tables—once she can tear her eyes away from the wall she sees that there’s a blank Eyecon disassembled on one table, and on another is an Ulorder with a panel open lying on top of yet another diagram, this one in different handwriting and weighed down at the corners with books. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.”

“I am very glad that you think so.”

“I, I just.” A bit of futile gesturing as Akari struggles for words, and then, “Look, can I. Can I buy you dinner?”

Alia…blinks. “Pardon me?”

“I would, um, love to take you to dinner sometime, so we can. Talk. More. Because I really like talking to you. And, and maybe a concert or a movie or something, or there’s a History of Engineering exhibit at a museum near the temple, I know you haven’t gotten to visit the human world much and I could…show you around.”

There’s a long moment where Alia’s just staring at her and Akari considers the very serious possibility that she just messed up big time.

“I,” she starts again, “that is, if you want—”

“I would enjoy that.” Alia takes one of Akari’s hands in both of hers. Akari can feel how cool they are, the odd smoothness of the skin as pink circuits pulse down them, and normally she’d want to know more about that but right now there’s so much other stuff happening even if really it’s only one other thing. “A concert, if you know of one coming up, I think I get enough of engineering in the normal course of my day that maybe the museum might be better saved for a second visit.”

Akari’s ears are ringing. “There’s, um, a performance from a popular violinist coming up next Thursday night? Takeru gave me two tickets, he knows the performer…somehow…”

The curl of smile, small and warm and directly entirely at her. “I enjoy violin music. And we can discuss our work over dinner.”

If she nods any harder she’s going to get dizzy. “That. That sounds wonderful. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up at five!”

[anonthenullifier]

Quote prompt! "What do you mean it's on fire?!"

Thanks for the prompt! Immediately it made me think of a way to finally write out one of my head canons for Vision. I hope you enjoy this!

*****

In one hand Wanda casually grips a wine glass (a Sauvignon Blanc, according to Vision but she’ll drink anything that’s offered) and in the other she directs the angle of the camcorder propped up on a little table top tripod. “What are you doing now?”

“We are,” with stilted movements, Vision’s goggle covered eyes never straying far from the tripod, he answers, “placing our tomato purée into this centrifuge.” Wanda waves her hand, trying to elicit a bit more from him. “Um we have it set to spin at 20,000 gees per minute which will force the components to separate.”

“Using this,” Helen, who is only marginally more at ease in front of the camera, pats the machine lovingly, “we can separate out the purée by density. So by the end we’ll have the pulp, oil, and water of the tomato in three distinct layers.” Wanda sends them a thumbs up as they place the tubes inside their holders and let’s them have a few minutes of peace before moving them along.

This whole evening is part of a new initiative Tony (via Pepper who is the actual brains of PR) has set up to “normalize” the Avengers more. Each of them was tasked with finding an activity to document that let’s the public realize they are all normal-ish people. Vision had spent many hours brainstorming with her what he could do since his main hobbies are reading, watching television with her, and floating around the compound. Even though all are true hobbies, she had to inform him that it was a grossly incomplete list because (amongst other omissions) for the last two months he’s been hosting Molecular Gastronomy Mondays (or MGM as the team fearfully refers to it) with Helen. Initially he adamantly refused this suggestion, not wanting to make Helen uncomfortable, but Wanda finally convinced him after they spent a whole day watching YouTube cooking channels and she ever so casually mentioned how it seemed there was a dearth of scientific explanations in these channels and how she wished everyone got to enjoy MGM like she did.

Since it was her doing to tip them into filming, Wanda agreed to direct. She always attends these nights anyway, driven by hunger and morbid curiosity (even after the egg yolk explosion that required a lengthy shower and a week-long aversion towards anything eggy), but tonight she just has to be a tiny bit more involved. “Why do you need to separate it?”

The question seems to rejuvenate Vision, his body turning towards her enough for his apron to be on display, an image of two circles and a square labeled Proton, Neutron, Crouton . “Tonight we are crafting a translucent tomato consommé. In order to remove all color we have to get food particles no larger than seven microns.”

“And the way to do that is with centrifugal force.” Helen joins in, excitement finally coming through, which was Wanda’s hope in pestering them with questions to unlock their usual talkative selves whenever science is involved. “This,” another loving pat is given to the machine, “is actually an old one from my lab. You can buy food specific ones but we spent the last few weeks adapting it to be food safe.” With a push of a button the machine’s insides begin to spin. “Now we can make the spheres.”

Wanda sips her wine as they gather all they need: a beaker from the fridge that she knows has been sitting overnight, a bottle of extra virgin olive oil, a medicine bottle of white powder, an empty beaker, and a pipette.

“Now,” Helen ( whose own apron tells the world to Quiche the Cook ) talks while Vision arranges all the items in an orderly fashion, “we’re going to demonstrate the process of spherification.”

With a wave of his hand Vision begins this segment by explaining to the viewers (by way of speaking exclusively to Wanda, a technique she suggested to help calm his nerves), “Last night we mixed water with alginate - which itself is derived from brown algae though there will be no discernible taste from it.” The little smirk that always accompanies his factoids is adorable and she hopes it translates well on video. “It has to sit overnight to remove all air bubbles. Dr. Cho.”

Smoothly they transition the baton of explanation, a pre-planned segue to keep it lively, Helen now narrating as Vision performs the next task, “What we do now is mix our olive oil with calcium chloride. This will cause the polymers of the alginate to cross link and form a gel. By dropping the olive oil mixture through the pipette, it will form spheres. If you watch Vision-”

Wanda zones out the rest, eyes taking in a little plume of smoke rising from behind the steady hands of Vision, following it as it dances through the air until it is drawn into the kitchen’s exhaust fan. Curiosity piqued, she leans as far to the side as she can without accidentally knocking over the camera. Amongst the whirling tubes of tomato lingers a far more sinister force. “Um Vision...the centrifuge is on fire.”

Vision pauses, pipette of the olive oil mixture poised over the alginate water, and a wary half-arced smile on his face that he gets whenever he is hoping to discover some new source of humor instead of derision. “What do you mean it’s on fire?”

“That it’s on fire.”

The two cooks turn towards the machine, Vision with an “Oh dear!” and Helen’s less composed, “Dammit!” Wanda knows she should help, but instead she turns the camera a bit to the right, the Sauvignon Blanc pairing perfectly with the entertainment of watching Helen cautiously open the machine while Vision uses the fire extinguisher to stop the flames.

After a hesitant glance inside, Helen pushes her goggles up onto the top of her head and laughs. “Of course.”

“I am beginning to suspect sabotage of our endeavors,” a serious accusation that is tempered by Vision’s less-than-serious delivery.

An equally facetious tone emerges from the usually stoic woman, “Steve did say our bacon foam made him uncomfortable.”

Wanda zooms the shot in to capture the full effect of the radiant amusement on Vision’s face as he weighs the hypothesis, “Or perhaps we defer to Occam’s Razor and accept that electrical engineering is not our forte.”

A dry, “I’ll stick with sabotage,” sends the two mad scientists into conspiratorial sniggers and Wanda knows this will accomplish exactly what Tony wants.

She keeps the camera going as Vision turns towards her, a breathtakingly friendly curve to his lips as he brings her into their conversation, “It seems your promised dinner is ruined,” a dour statement said with just enough self-deprecating verve that it itself should demystify the way the public sees him. But then he goes a step further, cementing firmly his humanness on camera, “Shall we just order pizza instead?”

[fabuloustrash05]

Renetangelo Twins!! Meet MJ & Christopher

I’ve been meaning to give MJ and Christopher an update on their designs cause honestly I hated how they looked, so I finally updated their looks and gave them both proper character sheets and bios.

I know what some of you are wondering: “How come Mikey and Renet were able to have kids but Slash and Alopex can’t have one together because you said they’re different species??! Shouldn’t that logic apply to Mikey and Renet too??!”

My Answer: I created MJ and Christopher WAAAAAYYYY before I even created that little rule and started shipping Slalopex. Sasuke was an OC idea I always had but Slash being his step father didn’t become a thought till later. But I do have an explanation for how the renetangelo twins were born:

MJ and Christopher are test tube babies, meaning they were made scientifically rather than naturally. Mikey has human DNA in him (because of Splinter) so there was a VERY small chance of this test tube option to actually work, but they took that chance. So they removed most of Mikey’s mutant dna for the child to live, (if that makes sense) and by a miracle Mikey and Renet were bless with not 1 but 2 babies! With the result of removing most of Mikey’s mutant dna the twins look more human than mutant, with only having faint green skin, a barely noticeable outline of a shell.