#down quark

[tenth-sentence]

The standard model takes the particles in Tables 12.1 and 12.2 (again, ignoring the graviton) as input, then makes impressively accurate predictions for how the particles will interact and influence each other.

"The Fabric of the Cosmos" - Brian Greene

[martianbugsbunny]

My TNG poll is over (Data won and I should not be surprised lmao; proud of dealer's choice Will Riker for pulling a solid third) so let's do another one!

Dax and Odo don't get to be in it because that feels like cheating. they're actually trans.

[exasperatedoctopus]

The amount of nonsense the ds9 crew puts up with from Quark is ridiculous.

A non-exhaustive list of Quark’s crimes as of s2:ep12:

1. He directly let in a bunch of criminals into the station that proceeded to kidnap the worm-portion of Dax

2. He blackmailed Julian and O’Brien into having a public tennis match, then tried to drug Julien to fix said match

3. He has been caught actively consorting with arms dealers on multiple occasions

4. He literally broke into someone’s private quarters to steal a secret box and summarily kicked off a cold case murder investigation when he got chumped for it

Nobody’s even surprised by it at this point. The earth is round, DS9 is a miserable, shambling wreck of Cardassian engineering, and Quark commits Crimes

[hollis-art]

i personally think that odo has flown into a glass pane as a bird at least once, and i think quark deserves to be there when it happens

odo was out here trying to be majestic to impress his boyfriend/guy that he wholeheartedly hates, and the glass just had to get in the way smh

[yaminerua]

He’s so happy to find that there’s a good chance Jamie’s alive;;; Look at his excited little face;;;

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[mumblesplash]

hmm…charm quark scar…how do i draw this…

[softcthulhuwu]

kirk is like your cool gay uncle in a longterm situationship and pike is your cool ally dad who doesn't always get it but still gets you your first binder send tweet

[captainjimothy]

having the brainworms is so embarrassing what do you mean i laid in bed for an extra 2 hours this morning just thinking about qunt kissing. im gonna kill them. do any of yall know if there's a different word for kissing-oomox rather than just getting a handjob bc i feel like there ought to be. there should be separate words for lobe-handies vs lobe-licking vs lobe-kissing vs lobe-biting. so much untapped potential here

[pussyhoundspock]

Can someone just kill this fool (Dr mora) already

[whats-in-a-sentence]

These particles – the electron and its two heavier cousins, the six kinds of quarks, and the three kinds of neutrinos – constitute a modern-day particle physicist's answer to the ancient Greek question about the makeup of matter.¹¹

11. Although I haven't covered it explicitly in the text, note that every known particle has an antiparticle – a particle with the same mass but opposite force charges (like the opposite sign of electric charge). The electron's antiparticle is the positron; the up-quark's antiparticle is, not surprisingly, the anti-up-quark; and so on.

"The Fabric of the Cosmos" - Brian Greene

[hooved]

i'll never be able to afford to go to that star trek convention in vegas which means i'll never get to fulfill my dream of fucking someone while they're cosplaying a ferengi

[spockvarietyhour]

I forgot about the inside lining of Quark's Trans Pride Jacket

[ambassadorquark]

i've seen people try to pitch romantic exchanges from their fandoms to be a worthy contender for the iconic "i love you" "i know" exchange but they will never be quodo's "count on it" "i will". to be honest

[lazersharksfromspace]

Enemies 2 loverz

[youngpettyqueen]

this entire sequence of the entire team debating whether or not they should launch Quark into space to signal Bajor while they ignore Quark going "IM NOT FUCKING DOING THAT" is. so funny