#free quantum computing courses
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quantimist · 1 year ago
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Quantum Computing with Qiskit Free Course | 1 Year | Q World
Exciting News: QWorld’s QClass23/24 Your Gateway to Quantum Computing! Are you ready to dive into the fascinating world of quantum computing, algorithms, and programming? Look no further! QWorld is thrilled to announce the launch of our two-semester-long QClass23/24, beginning in September 2023 and running until May 2024. Join us for an immersive virtual experience that will equip you with the…
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tundraglitch · 1 year ago
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Free Courses on IBM Quantum Learning
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IBM has launched a series of free course for learning the basics of quantum computing and how to use the IBM Quantum services (here the link).
At the moment I’m writing there are four courses:
Basics of quantum information
First unit in the series, the course explains the basis of quantum computing at a detailed mathematical level, it requires knowing a bit of linear algebra, but also fascinating subjects like: quantum teleportation (no, sadly it’s not like Star Trek) and superdense coding.
Fundamentals of quantum algorithms
This second unit explores the advantages of quantum computers over classical computers
Variational algorithm design
This course teaches how to write variational algorithms and how to use Qiskit, the IBM API for quantum computing.
Practical introduction to quantum-safe cryptography Quantum computers can do what a classical computer can’t: use brute force and be quick, so they can break common cryptography. This course teaches how to use encryption that cannot be break so easily.
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fushitoru · 5 days ago
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infect me with your love
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pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?
warnings ⸺ college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied
playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics
a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')
if u don’t wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, it’s not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
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fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.
of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didn’t really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, they’d go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying. 
matter of fact, your manager didn’t really give a fuck what you did as long as you didn’t get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shifts—not that you’re complaining or anything.
that is, until gojo satoru.
first, let’s get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-year—same as you–who is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a “work hard, party hard” type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because he’s a prodigy. he’s charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college. 
take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.
the air in professor yaga’s office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. you’ve been waiting all week for this chance, and you’re armed with a question that’s supposed to signal *i’ve done my homework.* you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, “i read in your last paper that you’re working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?”
professor yaga’s brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. “ah,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “you’ve actually read it. that’s... a complicated question.” he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be it—the moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.
but then, the door creaks open behind you.
you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, it’s gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.
professor yaga’s face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, “gojo. nice of you to join us.”
“hey, i was just passing by,” gojo says casually, though he’s clearly anything but. he doesn’t pass by anywhere without making an entrance. “thought i’d check in on how everyone’s doing.”
the glint in yaga’s eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. “when’s that last problem set coming in, satoru? i’ve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.”
at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. “don’t push him too hard, yaga,” he says as if gojo’s delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. “kid’s already got the department’s highest scores without trying.”
oh, for god’s fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow you’re rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, he’s utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults he’s throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so you’re equals.
you’re not even sure gojo realizes he’s doing it—that he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but that’s exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like he’s some cosmic force everyone’s compelled to admire. and you? you’re just… there. not that it’s any different than the usual experiences you’ve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.
and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. he’s probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.
he flashes a grin at professor yaga. “i’ll get it in,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “i’m just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have… extracurriculars.” he doesn’t wink, but he might as well.
you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. it’s not like you’re jealous. you’d rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention you’d managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop *showing up,* or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybe—just maybe—you’d have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.
you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.
which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.
and right beneath it, there’s a familiar head of silver hair.
your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; it’s the same ones you’ve dreamed about throttling. but you’re so confused as to why he’s there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.
“doesn’t this store open up at 5?” his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice. 
“uh, yea,” you answer tentatively, shrugging. “but, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.”
his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, “don’t you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that you’re not showing up on time.”
you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy you’ve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, you’re at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short “sorry” before you’re walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants. 
gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. it’s a heavy old thing, and gojo’s biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.
 but you don’t do that, because laughing at someone who’s a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until you’re interrupted with a cough.
you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, “just a second!” before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order. 
and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.
“…what can i get you?” 
at that, he pouts. “no good morning? no chirpy hello?”
you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?
“what?” gojo frowns. “shouldn’t you do that to every customer?” you realize belatedly you’ve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless. 
the silence lingers after gojo’s teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: you’re standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man you’ve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate this—he’s getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that he’s so human.
you don’t trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, “morning,” without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like it’s your lifeline.
gojo’s eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.
gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.
“see? was that so hard?” he says, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone who’s never exchanged more than a glance with you in class—someone you’ve been actively avoiding whenever possible.
you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. “what would you like?”
“hmm...” he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. he’s enjoying this, that much is obvious. “surprise me.”
you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. “surprise you?”
“yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you work here. you know what’s good.”
you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. there’s no way this is real—no way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like he’s some quirky regular.
and yet, here you are.
“fine,” you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back room—you’re not going easy on him. “that’ll be eight dollars.”
he doesn’t blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesn’t.
pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. “thanks, i’m sure it’ll be great.”
you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “uh-huh.”
as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. you’ve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that he’s here, right in front of you, you don’t know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. he’s back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that he’s on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. he’s locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.
after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. “here,” you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.
gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. “wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “you really went all out.”
“you said to surprise you.”
“i did,” he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think you’ve won.
but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you haven’t. 
“so,” gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a long conversation. “what’s a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?”
your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?
you can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking you—probably the latter, considering who he is—but the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.
you scoff, trying to brush it off. “gotta pay the bills somehow,” you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojo’s gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell he’s not letting it go.
you glance up at him. “look, i like having time to think in the mornings. it’s quiet. besides, no one’s lining up for coffee before 7, so it’s not like i’m missing anything.”
gojo chuckles softly, but there’s something off about it. “thinking time, huh?” he repeats your words, but there’s a strange edge to them, like he’s mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that he’s been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.
“doesn’t it ever feel like…” he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. “i don’t know… like you should be doing something else? like… something more?”
his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling he’s not talking about you. there’s something in his voice, something that sounds like he’s grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.
for a moment, you’re tempted to brush him off. to tell him he’s overthinking things, that he’s gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe it’s the way he looks—his usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.
you shrug, turning back to the counter. “i mean… it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”
there’s a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. he’s just… staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure you out.
“just… showing up, huh?” he repeats softly, almost like he’s testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.
you don’t say anything else. you’ve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. there’s a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.
gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but it’s softer now. less cocky. more real.
“maybe you’re right,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. “sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”
and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.
something’s shifted. you don’t know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.
you shake your head, turning back to the counter. it’s too early for this shit.
“you know, i didn’t get your name.”
gojo’s voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. he’s here again, of course, only this time it’s during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.
you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. “i’m pretty sure we’ve shared at least one class every semester.”
you weren’t trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember you—a recurring face in his orbit. it’s not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.
gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your name—only to come up empty. “are you a grad student?”
you flash him an exasperated look. “just for that, i’m not telling you.”
grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.
it isn’t until you turn around that you realize he’s standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back. 
he wasn’t ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.
"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. “there it is. y/n, huh?” the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy you’ve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance. 
“really? you had to get that close just to read my name?”
gojo doesn’t seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. “hey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?” his grin widens, and you swear he’s enjoying this way too much.
“thorough. sure.” you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been… unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.
when you’re done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so you’re facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. “you’re not going to ask me for my name?”
“i know it. it’s gojo.” you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.
fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. “how do you know my name?”
“i saw it on your credit card information.” you couldn’t exactly tell him how you’ve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason. 
but gojo, of course, doesn’t let up. “so, y/n,” he starts. “you going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?”
ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the week’s end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. “i don’t think so.” that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.
“what?” he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. “why?”
you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. “i’m bu—”
you’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customer’s order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that you’re not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.
you both see a man swagger in, the same guy you’ve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.
“hey, look who’s still here,” the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. “my favorite barista.”
you tense, forcing a smile. “what can i get you?”
he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. “i was thinking…” he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, “you and i should hang out. you’re always here, and i’m always here, so it’s like fate or something, right?”
your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. “i’m good, thanks.”
but he doesn’t let up, leaning further across the counter. “come on, don’t be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.”
“i really can’t—”
“don’t be shy,” he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. “i’m a nice guy, i promise.”
before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the man’s view of you.
“she said no,” gojo says, his voice firm, low. “so why don’t you fuck off?”
the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like he’s considering pushing back. but one glance at gojo’s unwavering stare, and the guy decides it’s not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.
you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the guy’s been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that he’s still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guy’s harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojo’s protection.
gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. “you okay?”
“yeah,” you manage, though your voice is quieter than you’d like. “thanks for that.”
“don’t mention it.” he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something protective. “i know you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured i’d speed things up a bit.”
you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. “you’re such a hero, gojo.”
“always,” he replies with a wink. and just like that, the moment’s lightened again, the balance between you restored, though there’s a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of you—an understanding, maybe.
you don’t acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in… well, ever, you don’t completely mind his presence.
fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, you’re alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. it’s quiet—too quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself you’re just tired and letting your nerves get to you.
as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the street’s nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. it’s fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alley—
“hey there,” a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.
you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. “aw, don’t be like that. i just wanted some company.”
your throat’s dry, but you manage, “i said no.”
he doesn’t even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. “no need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.”
your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your ears—
and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. “y’know, i always thought this city’s trash problem was bad, but this is something else.”
your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as you—and this creep—turn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence. 
“who’s there?” the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. “why don’t you get lost if you know what’s good for you—”
“dude, don’t you have any rizz?” the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age.  “the way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, you’re so gonna tell me to scram or something.”
the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. “why don’t you mind your own business, punk—”
and he’s interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but there’s nothing—just shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.
“who the hell are you?” he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoever’s hiding out there into the open. “show yourself, you bastard!”
a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. “wow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. they’re, uh…a bit unbecoming.”
the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.
“you think this is funny?” he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.
“depends. do you?” the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no one’s there. “or is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sum’.”
the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. “get down here and say that to my face, punk!”
“as you wish.”
with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself. 
you’ve seen him before.
okay, pause.
you’re a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you don’t check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.
so you did read somewhere that in your university’s city of new york city, there was a masked menan—vigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some name—spiderman.
but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.
alright, pause over. back to now.
“hi!” spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. “see, this is why i’m the one with the web powers. you’d hurt yourself with these moves.”
without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. “oof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?” he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.
the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.
“oh, so we’re improvising now?” spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.
the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but he’s stuck fast.
“ever heard of boundaries?” spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. “or, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.”
the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. “you think you’re some kinda hero?” he sneers.
spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. “nah, hero’s a big word. i’m just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.”
with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spiderman’s side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. “okay, buddy, playtime’s over.”
before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the man’s head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.
spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. “you know, i’ve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but that’s next-level dedication.” that’s when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you can’t help your excitement when you realize that he’s here in the flesh.
“nice hit, by the wa—”
“it’s you!” you exclaim. 
“what?” he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. “me? oh,” then he straightens up, “yea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. ” he shrugs.
you continue, excitedly, “right, you’re the one on the news—” you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the man’s grip catching up to you. 
he doesn’t miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. “hey, we’ll have to get you home. do you trust me?”
you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. he’s saved you, he’s probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, you’re looking at him with heart eyes. but you can’t exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a “y-yeah. my dorm’s randall.”
he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. “hold on tight, randall’s just a swing away,” he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.
before you can even process what’s happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like you’re something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didn’t just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.
“this is your stop,” he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.
“uh… yeah. thanks. for the rescue,” you manage, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. you don’t know if “thank you” is enough—it doesn’t even come close to covering what you feel.
but he just shrugs, taking a step back. “all in a day’s work,” he says. “or night’s work, i guess.” he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. “get some sleep, yeah?”
and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as he’d appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.
back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonight’s events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thing—if maybe you’re just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.
but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.
just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “the city’s vigilante, huh?” you murmur, as if he’s somehow still listening.
the thought is wild, a bit surreal—and strangely comforting.
“one caffe americano!” you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mind—a web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your arm—and you shake it off. there’s no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.
when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.
“hey, finally off the clock?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“yeah, barely,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “i’m still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?”
“of course. nanami’s already inside,” she says, gesturing toward the building.
you sigh. “you won’t believe the things that happened last night.”
she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. “what happened?”
you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you should’ve told her earlier, kento would’ve been able to beat his ass if she hadn’t gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. “i would give him what he’s missing,” you sigh, dreamily. 
utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. “and that’s all you got from this? for fucks sake, he’s a vigilante, you don’t know if he’s started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.” as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. “and no, i don’t give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenci—”
“we’ll revisit this conversation later.” you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated “yea, cause i’m gonna kill you otherwise.” the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.
inside, you quickly spot kento’s shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadn’t realized you were carrying.
“long night?” he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.
“you could say that,” you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. “just work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.”
nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. “what?”
his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as she’s settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. “it’s a long story, i’ll tell it to you later.”
he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru geto’s is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you don’t register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class. 
he’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because he’s usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you don’t think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo. 
but today, he looks different—messy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.
your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. it’s so out of character for him that you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanami’s usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yaga’s opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyone’s gaze—or so you think, until you feel it.
as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you can’t shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself it’s probably nothing… except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.
“okay, now that we’re all here,” yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojo’s direction, “let’s begin with today’s lecture on grover’s.”
professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. “grover’s algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isn’t considered an exponential improvement?”
you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, who’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yaga’s attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how grover’s algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.
determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. “what’s with him today?”
nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. “maybe he finally realized that he can’t get by without skipping class today.”
utahime snickers quietly. “doubtful. more like he thinks it’s funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.”
“exactly.” you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojo’s rare absences don’t even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, he’s always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, something’s… different about him. like he’s made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.
“moving on,” yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. “the heart of grover’s algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attention—this concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.”
as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in grover’s search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojo’s gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, there’s nothing there—just him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.
what’s his problem? you give him a questioning look, but he’s adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as he’s pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yaga’s yapping about, but the way he’s using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that he’s probably on papa’s freezeria instead.
you decide that you’re going to waste your time wondering how gojo’s brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didn’t understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit. 
“now,” yaga’s voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of being late.” his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.
gojo doesn’t even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like he’s about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the room—half the students are waiting to see if he’ll fumble, and the other half already know better.
“professor yaga,” he drawls, “don’t you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way it’s typically presented, you’d think grover’s algorithm was just… guessing with style.” he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. “but we both know it’s more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isn’t just luck. or maybe that’s all too technical?” he leans back, feigning innocence.
the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.
“actually, gojo,” you interject, your voice louder than you intended, “calling it “guessing with style” is a very gross oversimplification. grover’s algorithm isn’t about intuition or luck. it’s about optimization. it’s not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, it’s more like rotating the probability in a controlled manner—with iterations—to amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.” you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. “it’s not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.”
as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojo’s eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like “yea, that’s basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove we’re not just wasting our time” but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like. 
“now,” yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit), “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.”
you’re just left confused as to why the conversation didn’t escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because you’ve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you can’t help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.
“i can’t believe you’re making me go.” you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.
utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfit—complete with horns perched precariously on her head—looks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.
“stop pouting,” she chides. “i’m not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. i’m pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in your—”
“utahime,” you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.
“pussy,” she finishes, completely unbothered. “i’m going to find you a guy to hook up with. i’m not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.”
your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. “don’t even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you don’t at least try to enjoy this, i’ll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.”
“i can’t believe this,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “you’re supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.”
“oh, i’m your friend. that’s why i’m doing this. you’ll thank me when you’re sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.”
“i’m not boring,” you counter. “i’m selective.”
“sure,” utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. “and whatever weird sexual tension you’ve got going on with gojo doesn’t count.”
you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. “what tension? we’ve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.”
she doesn’t respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. it’s already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.
you follow utahime’s gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.
“looks crowded,” you mumble. “maybe we should—”
before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. “nope. you’re coming in. no backing out now.”
the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahime’s grasp.
“god, it smells like a gym locker in here,” you say, covering your nose.
utahime doesn’t seem fazed. she’s already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. “this is perfect!” she says, beaming.
“for what? contracting a fungal infection?” you mutter.
but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill. 
“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”
 they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.
“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”
utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles. 
standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.
“let me get that for you.”
you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.
gojo.
he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them. 
“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”
you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”
his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”
“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.
“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”
that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”
you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”
“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details. 
“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”
you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”
“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”
you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”
he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”
and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”
“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.
"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds. 
it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."
maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"
he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.
“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”
satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”
but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”
he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?
you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”
“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.
taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over. 
then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?
you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see  someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge. 
“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.
the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.
it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.
“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”
satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.
suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”
“shut up.”
but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.
satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.
“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”
they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.
and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.
that day at starbucks, though.
satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since. 
and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.
you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.
what was it again?
“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”
the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.
the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.
“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.
“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
“no.”
suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”
satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”
“how is it complicated?”
“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”
suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”
“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”
suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”
“well, when you put it like that—”
“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”
satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged.  but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.
“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”
“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.
“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”
satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.
because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.
but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.
amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof. 
you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.
setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.
“rough night?”
you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you. 
“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.
“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.
he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”
you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”
“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”
you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”
“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.
you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”
“from?”
“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”
“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”
“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”
his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”
you pout. “what if i call the police?”
“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”
you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”
“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”
“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”
then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”
you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.
“you should do that more,” he said.
“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion. 
“laugh.”
the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.
“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”
“is that right?”
“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
“take my mask off.”
the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.
your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.
“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.
you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.
with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.
“gojo?”
the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.
he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”
“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”
“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.
gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won��when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”
you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.
you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. 
you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”
“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.
the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”
he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”
the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.
and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.
something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”
“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”
“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”
you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”
“you trust me, don’t you?”
and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.
“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him. 
he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”
you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”
before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.
you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?” 
“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around. 
when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.
“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your  hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.
“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.
when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”
the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.
“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.
“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?
“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you.  “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”
you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”
gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”
you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”
he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”
“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.
“and yet, you’re still here.”
his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.
“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.
“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”
without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.
but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.
the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.
gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”
your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”
“this.”
before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.
when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”
you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.
gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”
when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?” 
somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.
“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.
gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.
“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.
he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”
you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”
“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”
before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.
“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”
your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.
and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.
when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.
it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants. 
you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single. 
he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet. 
you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down. 
but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.
satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.
you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.
“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.
he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”
“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”
satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”
acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”
you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?” 
“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.
“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness. 
his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.  
you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”  
he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”  
you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”  
there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.  
“do what?”  
“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”  
satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  
you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”  
he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”  
you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.  
his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.  
the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.  
“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.  
your breath catches. “satoru…”  
“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.  
“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.  
he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.  
you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  
the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.  
his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.  
that’s when he freezes.  
he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.  
your heart drops into your chest.
“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.  
“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”  
you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”  
“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.
you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.
“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”  
“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”  
the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”  
he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.  
“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”  
he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.  
the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole. 
the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.
you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.
“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.
you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”
utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”
“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”
utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”
from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.
your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”
“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”
utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”
you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”
“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.
“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.
nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”
you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”
utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”
“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”
nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”
utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”
you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”
“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”
nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”
their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”
“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.
the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.
then it comes again, a little louder this time.
you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.
satoru.
he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.
you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.
“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”
“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”
“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.
“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.
“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”
for once, you thank the gods that he listens.
you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.
when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.
his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.
“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”
the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”
you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”
his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”
“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”
“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”
his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink. 
and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”
“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”
he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”
you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”
he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.
a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up. 
he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.
he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours. 
you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.
nestled right against his morning wood.
good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.
oh, say can you see—
to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.
“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.
but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake. 
and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him. 
“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”
you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”
he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”
“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”
oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts. 
you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.
“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you. 
you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.
satoru just tied you up using his webs.
you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.
“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”
it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.
“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”
then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.
and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.
“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.
“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”
you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”
“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”
 “satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”
a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you. 
he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.” 
you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.
wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.
“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”
at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.
for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”
you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”
and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”
if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“
“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.
“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.
 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.” 
you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”
at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”
at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.
satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.
you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?
still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.
“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”
instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.
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kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up
plspls pls comment and reblog!!!
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artificial-transmutations · 7 months ago
Text
Historically Accurate
"I'm telling you, Hollywood is going down with all the woke crap! You know what they say: Go woke go broke!"
Julian and Wallace were on their way back from the lunch room and the former was listening to the latter complaining. Julian had tried to avoid any topic like this, but, really, it was a mine field with Wallace. Just about *every* topic had the potential to turn out political.
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"I don't see what's wrong with a little inclusion in pop culture." Julian said, not wanting to argue but also not wanting to leave that opinion unopposed.
"Everything! It's just plain wrong, and it's brainwash, too. I mean, it's like a mind virus, poisoning everything! There's a western coming out next week. But it's all bullshit woke agenda again. The cowboy is black and gay! Literal brainwash and historical rewrite."
Julian frowned. How could an intelligent person like Wallace be so stupid at the same time?
"Why does that even bother you? I thought you hated westerns."
"Yes, that's not the point. Fact is, it's historically inaccurate and just pushing the woke agenda."
"Actually, I think it's not even historically incorrect." Julian pondered as they entered the lab using Julian's keycard and an iris scan of both scientists.
Wallace was borderline angry now.
"What are you talking about? Everyone knows that cowboys were the whitest and the straightest people there were."
"I'm not quite sure", Julian said. "Weren't there freed slaves and so on? And I would guess if you were underway with another guy for prolonged periods of time, not everything staid straight, too."
"Bullshit! Everyone knows cowboys weren't fags, and they were white."
Wallace seemed agitated now, and his usual stiff demeanor became even more pronounced.
Wallace was in his mid-forties, but the way he was talking, he seemed way older to Julian.
Julian on the other hand was awfully young for the position he had. Being 25, he still didn't look like he had finished college, even though he had his doctorate already.
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It was really a bit sad, he thought. Two of the brightest minds and they were bickering over basic, meaningless distinctions like ethnicity or sexual orientation.
"We could just ask the computer." he proposed, but Wallace frowned.
"We are not supposed to use the equipment for private research." he said.
'The computer' was part of the highly secretive project they worked on. When finished, it was supposed to be a time machine, simple as that. The actual time travel device didn't work properly yet, but a part of it, a chronoton boosted quantum computer that was able to access history itself to answer questions about the part, was already functioning quite well.
"But we are supposed to test it from time to time. Are you afraid of the answer it might give?"
"Of course not." Wallace grumbled. "Fine. Computer! Is there any historical evidence of gay black cowboys?"
The voice activated system acknowledged the request with a beep. While waiting for the answer, Julian checked the parameters of the system and found them in near-perfect condition.
Finally, the system answered, with the neutral male voice it was programmed with.
"A significant portion of cowboys consisted of people with African heritage, especially after the freeing of slaves after the civil war. Homosexual acts and attraction were common among cowboys, especially during the trail drives. Demonstrating..."
"Hrmpf." Wallace said, clearly not happy.
Julian, who was still checking the readings, scratched his head.
"Did you remember to disconnect the capsule before making the query? It seems to be drawing power."
"Ah, crap. That's just because of all the bullshit talk. Computer, stop!"
"Unable to comply. Demonstrating... Target: Montana Frontier Area, June 1865..."
The white walls of the chamber started to glow in an ever brighter white that was beginning to hurt the eyes.
"Crap. Julian, cut the power!" Wallace said, now with a clear notion of fear in his voice. The younger scientist didn't answer but tried to do as he was told - but did not succeed in time.
Suddenly, with a flash, their surroundings changed and the two of them found themselves in the middle of a rugged mountain range, on the border of a pine forest. It was late afternoon and the scientists found themselves in a just set-up camp. Two horses were standing nearby, and a small herd of cows was grazing at a meadow.
Wallace sighed and shook his head angrily. "Just great. Look at the mess you just put us in. Now we have to wait until we're rescued. And, apparently, we have to meet some black homo cowboys."
Julian looked around but couldn't see anyone around.
"I would have also guessed so, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."
His heart sank as he had a terrible suspicion. He had been experimenting lately with a normalization circuit that would embed the time travelers into history instead of superimposing them onto it. That was - according to his theories - a rather elegant way to resolve the repelling effect the historical structure had, but it wasn't finished by any means. It had never been tested and even theoretically, it wouldn't be able to achieve a partial embedding, only a full one at best. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had still been connected to the system.
As Julian thought about how to break it to Wallace, he noticed something strange about the other scientist. It could be a trick of the light, but he looked way more tanned than before.
"Uhm... It might actually be somewhat worse than that. I think my normalization circuit was still active when you activated the machine."
"What? What does that mean?" Wallace looked at him, furiously now.
"Well, I would guess..." Julian struggled and gave up. "Look at your hands, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."
Wallace looked down at his darkening hands and paled. Even now, he still had a considerably darker skin tone than before, darkening with every passing second.
"Shit." he said. "That's what you get for fucking around with a half-finished experiment."
Julian didn't even dare to mention his suspicion. If his normalization circuit was really active, that would make Wallace an actual, black cowboy, and not just him. Julian was also a time traveler, so he, too, would be affected.
Meanwhile, the changes in Wallace seemed to have proceeded. His facial structure looked like it was in motion before finally settling on a generally broader, manlier shape: The jawline became more pronounced, and his cheekbones raised.
"Is there... anything going on with me as well?" Julian asked.
Wallace looked over at him.
"Yeah, your hair color is changing, and I think your eye color. Blonde and blue-eyed, how cliché. But most importantly, you're not becoming fucking a fucking Black man."
Wallace didn't say Black man.
For some reason, this didn't bother Julian half as much as it should have. He felt rather at ease, and the untamed wilderness around him awakened a sense of adventure inside of him that he didn't know was in him.
Meanwhile Wallace was also feeling a change within. A surge of confidence emerged from within him that was entirely alien to the deeply insecure man at first, but quickly became more and more part of his personality. It was like his core was solidifying into a confident and assertive nature, a boldness and quiet he secretly always wished he had. At the same time, his body structure changed considerably.
Where before, Wallace had been a physically unimpressive mid-forties man, it now seemed like the years melted off of him, and for every year that he lost, he gained three pounds of muscle mass and beef. His shoulders widened, his height increased, and his frame expanded in order to accommodate the new body mass.
"It's not that bad, ain't it?" While Julian's body had not changed much besides the hair and eye color, his voice sounded entirely different now. It had a southern lilt to it, but it was charismatic and charming. It was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours without end, perfect for reading an audiobook - or telling campfire stories.
"Well now, I ain't too sure 'bout that." Wallace's voice had changed even more considerably when he answered. He had gained a thick southern accent, and his voice had dropped to a low and smooth voice that sounded commanding even if he didn't intend to.
"Ha, look at that, your skin's startin' to change now, too!"
And really, Julian's skin had started to adapt as well, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it went a different route than Wallace's. Instead of darkening to the almost black tone that he was sporting, Julian's skin became rougher and got a sun-kissed tan instead. His facial features sharpened, as his cheekbones looked chiseled all of a sudden and a rugged beard texture was adorning his chin. Julian seemed to notice it, too, since he started touching his new face immediately.
"Cool! Always wondered what I'd look like sportin' a beard." he said, apparently not too unhappy with the changes.
There was no denying Julian looked good, which made Wallace feel a touch of jealousy. In his opinion, it wasn't fair that he was the only one having to deal with the black skin. That feeling quickly faded, though, as his changes continued. His hair became very short, curly and dark. At the same time, a short beard formed on his chin and upper lip, giving him an even manlier appeal. At the same time, chest hair sprouted, sparsely of course, as it was normal for a man of his heritage. A strange feeling overcame Wallace. He wasn't necessarily *proud* to be Black now, but he also didn't mind it anymore. He was proud of a lot of secondary assets, though, like his bulging muscles or his handsome face. As his eyes became a dark brown, he had to smirk as he sat down by the fire, readjusting himself in the process. And, of course, his big cock, which might also have been positively influenced by his new ancestry.
Wallace watched as Julian turned around and tended to the horses. His body was now, finally, also changing. It didn't become nearly as bulky as his own, but instead lean and agile, with narrow hips and a well-distributed surprising strength, as Wallace knew. While Julian was busy with the horses, Wallace had a good view of his ass. It filled out the jeans just so well, and Vallace only noticed now that the other man's attire had changed. He was clad in a pair of blue jeans, a vest and, of course a Stetson now, and Vance always thought that this outfit accentuated the best parts of his partner quite well. He preferred black leather, himself, since the material was sturdier and felt better on the skin.
Vince felt his cock hardening in his leather pants and readjusted himself again while also leaning back and spreading his legs to make more room for the erection. He wasn't afraid of anyone seeing his rude behavior. The only other man within a wide range was Jesse, the owner of that juicy ass. And he was allowed to see... well, everything.
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Vince waited patiently until Jesse returned to the campfire, with a big smile on his face.
"How them horses holdin' up, partner?" Vince asked.
"They're good. Just a tad worn out from today's ride." Jesse answered.
"Well, there's somethin' else needs tendin' to, if you're free to lend a hand. Or an ass." Vince grinned and made his cock throb in the confines of his tight leather pants.
Jesse grinned at the display of masculinity and massaged his own cock.
"Hell yes!"
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As Jesse moved over in his usual graceful movements, Vince leaned back. There really wasn't anything better than being a big, black cowboy. Especially not with a partner like Jesse, who was always happy to make the nights in the wilderness a little less lonely.
Certainly not poor and lonesome! Also check out this awesome writer!
There are a few more versions of Jesse and Vince, over at my tip jar.
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tearsinthemist · 10 months ago
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Want to learn something new
Want to learn something new in 2022??
Absolute beginner adult ballet series (fabulous beginning teacher)
40 piano lessons for beginners (some of the best explanations for piano I’ve ever seen)
Excellent basic crochet video series
Basic knitting (probably the best how to knit video out there)
Pre-Free Figure Skate Levels A-D guides and practice activities (each video builds up with exercises to the actual moves!)
How to draw character faces video (very funny, surprisingly instructive?)
Another drawing character faces video
Literally my favorite art pose hack
Tutorial of how to make a whole ass Stardew Valley esque farming game in Gamemaker Studios 2??
Introduction to flying small aircrafts
French/Dutch/Fishtail braiding
Playing the guitar for beginners (well paced and excellent instructor)
Playing the violin for beginners (really good practical tips mixed in)
Color theory in digital art (not of the children’s hospital variety)
Retake classes you hated but now there’s zero stakes:
Calculus 1 (full semester class)
Learn basic statistics (free textbook)
Introduction to college physics (free textbook)
Introduction to accounting (free textbook)
Learn a language:
Ancient Greek
Latin
Spanish
German
Japanese (grammar guide) (for dummies)
French
Russian (pretty good cyrillic guide!)
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Jan 2, 2023
Want to learn something new in 2023??
Cooking with flavor bootcamp (used what I learned in this a LOT this year)
Beekeeping 101
Learn Interior Design from the British Academy of Interior Design (free to audit course - just choose the free option when you register)
Video on learning to read music that actually helped me??
How to use and sew with a sewing machine
How to ride a bike (listen. some of us never learned, and that's okay.)
How to cornrow-braid hair (I have it on good authority that this video is a godsend for doing your baby niece's black hair)
Making mead at home (I actually did this last summer and it was SO good)
How to garden
Basics of snowboarding (proceed with caution)
How to draw for people who (think they) suck at art (I know this website looks like a 2003 monstrosity, but the tutorials are excellent)
Pixel art for beginners so you can make the next great indie game
Go (back) to school
Introduction to Astronomy (high school course - free textbook w/ practice problems)
Principals of Economics (high school course - free textbook w/ practice problems)
Introduction to philosophy (free college course)
Computer science basics (full-semester Harvard course free online)
Learn a language
Japanese for Dummies (link fix from 2022)
Ukrainian
Portuguese (Brazil)
American Sign Language (as somebody who works with Deaf people professionally, I also strongly advise you to read up on Deaf/HoH culture and history!)
Chinese (Mandarin, Simplified)
Quenya (LOTR fantasy elf language)
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Dec 26, 2023
Want to learn something new in 2024??
Beginner-oriented video on how to sail
This guy has so many videos on baking different types of bread. SO very many.
Coding in Python - one of the most flexible and adaptable high-level programming languages out there - explained through projects making video games
Learn to swim! (for adult learners. I don’t care if you live in Kansas or Mali or wherever. LEARN TO SWIM.)
Learn how quantum mechanics works. Then read some more about it
[Learn about quantum mechanics again, but in a more advanced engineering/mathematics class. Then read more about the math and physics of it]
Poetry Handbook, by Mary Oliver
Something I learned this year: how to sew a quilt (Here’s a very easy beginning pattern that looks amazing and can be done with pre-cut fabric!)
How to hit the ball in softball
Tutorial video on what is under the hood of most (gas) cars + weird engine sounds and what they mean
Full beginner mechanics technical training, if you want to go more in depth
Playlist on how car engine physics work if you want to go ultra in depth
Lecture series on architecture design through study of buildings
How (American income) taxes & tax law work (choose “audit course” at checkout for free class)
Pickleball for beginners (so you can finally join your neighbor/friend/distant cousin who is always insisting you join their team)
+ Para-Pickleball for beginners (for mobility aid users!)
School is so much more fun when there’s no tests:
American Law - Contracts
Shakespeare’s Life and Plays
Fairy Tales: Meanings, Messages, and Morals
Modern Poetry
World History [Part 1, Part 2]
Learn a language:
Arabic + Resource Guide compiled from Reddit (includes info on different dialects)
Chinese (Cantonese) (audio)
Urdu (frequently recommended course on Reddit) + Resource Guide
Yucatec Maya
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dragonmarquise · 4 months ago
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Everyone keeps talking Abt all the crews and stuff, but like, I never see any content for futurism! Sure there wasn't a lot of stuff for them since they were like, a really small part of the plot, but it would still be awesome to see content for them!!!! So I come bearing a question, do you have hcs for futurism?
Ooo, I have a few for FUTURISM! Not as extensive as my stuff for Devil Theory and DOT EXE, but still. :>
(I know some people kinda debate writing it as FUTURISM vs. Futurism, I'm gonna personally keep all caps but I also understand most people probably don't care either way lol)
Also feel free to send in asks about the other crews/characters too! I might not have a lot for each character though. I also have a general list of LGBT+ headcanons for all the BRC characters, if that interests you! Granted, it's probably not as extensive as some other people's lists.
Anyways, gonna put this under a Read More, it won't get nearly as long as the other two headcanon sets, but it'll be long enough that I'll feel bad about posting this without one. ^^;
I like giving all the crew members themed names, and for FUTURISM I went with computer-related terms! Some of them more obscure than others. So for the members (besides DJ Cyber of course):
Jazz (Related to the Chorus/Jazz version of JavaOS)
Quantum (i.e. quantum computing)
Veronica (an old search engine)
Nyx (The name of a prototype Amiga chipset, though also Greek personification of the night!)
I have a personal idea that after the events of the game, one member from each of the major crews end up joining BRC, basically representing the unlockable characters in the post game. In this case, Nyx is the one who joins BRC (and in my mind she's the default Spring palette in the game), so let's start with her!
Bi, currently dating one of the Eclipse ladies (inspired by this very good fan art btw :D )
All of the FUTURISM gals have amazing skills both with computers and as writers. Nyx ends up being one of two Designated IT Person for BRC, the other being Cueball.
Her and Cueball get into little prank wars, mostly instigated by Cueball for the hell of it. Her opinion of him ranges from genuine respect for his own computer skills to Chump Lord Supreme. Depends on her mood (and how much Cueball has recently pissed her off before asking her about it, lol)
As for the rest of BRC: "Well, they're still kinda chumps, but I guess they're my chumps now, y'know?"
Not afraid to be snarky, even to authority figures (DJ Cyber included)
Now for Jazz (Summer palette):
Is actually a guy who crossdresses! Does drag shows on the weekends too. :D
She is personally not very picky about pronouns, but most people default to referring to Jazz with she/her while in her writer outfit or as her drag persona (she goes by Jazz for both anyways), and he/him when he's not dressed up. But again, not very picky either way.
"I'm just saying, when the cops try to chase me down, they're gonna be looking for a blonde woman, not a guy with dark hair and stubble. Literally, one time I ran around a corner and managed to take off my wig and mask, then just covered up my top with a hoodie I had. Same pants and shoes, but they didn't even notice!"
Truthfully the crossdressing thing was genuinely just for fun, not to mention pretty comfortable while going around doing writer stuff. It wasn't until a while later that she realized it would make for a great disguise as a writer. :P
Nyx and Jazz are basically Besties and will be more than happy to smacktalk about their respective crews behind everyone's backs, lol
Now Quantum (Winter palette):
Runs an underground (kinda literally) server farm for local web hosting, chat sites, and forums. Anyone remember forums? Man, the good ol' days...
Has a hand in a lot of open source freeware projects. Hates companies like Adobe, Apple, Google, and Microsoft with a passion. Big Linux nerd btw, she will talk you ear off about the pros and cons of different distros if you let her.
Actually on that note, if you're not talking to her while she's out and about as a writer, or otherwise talking to her about computer stuff, she's fairly introverted! Especially if you try to talk to her in person instead of via text/chat/email/etc, she's basically more talkative online.
Also very good at sneaking around. Though not really as like spying or anything like that, she just prefers to not get in people's way or annoy them. Unfortunately she has scared DJ Cyber more than once by sneaking up on him by accident, lol
Wears contacts as a writer, but otherwise wears glasses normally. Has been considering getting prescription heavy-duty goggles for her writer activities, so that she doesn't have to bother with the contacts anymore.
And finally Veronica (Autumn palette):
She is genuinely a jerk. Nyx can be snarky sometimes, but not in an overly mean way. Veronica will be more than happy to be nasty to someone if she thinks they deserve it, even if they really don't.
Always looks down on pretty much any other writer outside of FUTURISM. She's still convinced Felix cheated to get his reputation, especially the whole "did it with no boostpack" thing.
Most people would probably consider her a stereotypical Karen ngl :u
So yeah, she's basically That One Teammate Nobody Likes. Veronica is only still in the crew because her skills are second only to DJ Cyber himself. Hell, he really doesn't like her attitude, but can't find a replacement for her in terms of skills. (He's begged Vinyl to formally join FUTURISM in the past, but she always declined, preferring to keep being a freelance writer. And now that she's part of BRC, she's definitely not an option for replacing Veronica, lmao)
She had a crush on Faux, but these days refuses to admit it was ever a thing.
That's about all I got I think! Hope you enjoy these. :>
Small bonus, specific track from the game that I associate with FUTURISM the most: Funk Express!
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simply-windy · 2 months ago
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wonder what you would think of core games
(some of the biggest names in the world of core games I can think of are things like Innovation Inc. (with 4 official games and several unofficial games), Pinewood Builders (with Pinewood Computer Core), and Quantum Science (with QSERF))
I'm also very much into RPG games like Arcane Odyssey, PWNED: Aeternae Memori, and Swordburst 3 (the latter two double as dungeon-crawlers)
And of course there's the frickton of RP games I play (I'm currently most obsessed with Zaibatsu and literally all of FarmerJaller's games (since I have free private servers for the latter and since they have catalog accessory inserters canon RPing there would be completely on the table))
Ik for a FACT that if I got into one of those rp games I would make myself look like Rocket <3 Rocket or Coil, depends on my mood
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squishmallow36 · 1 year ago
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My mom is making me forward these emails to people that might be interested so I figured someone over here might also be interested. Or, if you aren't interested but know someone who is, forward them the links or tag them on this post or whatnot. I trust you can figure it out.
Back three years ago, I took a quantum computing class that I really enjoyed. Quick warning that it is very much /not/ free anymore like when I took it (because my class was the guinea pigs to see if it would work) More information here if you want to sign up. I'm /pretty sure/ this one is available for international students in high school, college, or the workforce, but it is in English, so keep that in mind.
Now the same people running the prev are offering an AI course so I'm going to be taking that (or at least i'm signed up. We'll see if I actually get accepted) despite the fact that I'm not all that interested. More information here if you want to sign up for this one. It's free and only costs your sanity and whatever hours you have to put into it. This one is limited to US high school students just fyi.
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moodboardsbysarah · 1 year ago
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Why I quit being a computer programmer.
I became a computer programmer because I wanted to innovate and really help people with cool apps. I realized about two or three years in that sadly this isn't what computer programmers do. Computer programmers are building the virtual reality that is designed to trap human consciousness in a deeper layer of the matrix and distract it from real problems. That's it.
Programming is meant to be about "problem solving"... but there is no real problem in this world that can be solved with more servers, more computers and more apps.
If anyone in the coding field was actually focused on innovation then we would not be coding more web apps and desktop apps. We would be reworking the hardware we use entirely. We would be reworking the electronic computer device from the ground up to make it more energy efficient, faster and less buggy. We would be studying quantum computing and quantum security. We would be studying free and natural energy so that we can make computers which don't depend on the state-controlled electricity grid and the trillion dollar energy industry that is killing people and destroying the earth.
Of course this isn't what the big venture capitalists who claim they're supporting innovation are paying for. Corporate mafias will kill you if you try to monetize free energy or anything which renders their World Wide Web worthless. They need you dependent on the World Wide Web and oil coal petrol solar panel energy grid to establish their global control system, after all. Do you really think they will pour billions into something that threatens that? Lol no. They won't. and I see it with my own eyes as an entrepreneur. They are instead hyping up Blockchain which is purely virtual, dependent on the World Wide Web and dependent on all the currently dominant hardware and energy industries. Blockchain innovates literally nothing and challenges literally nothing about the current establishment despite virtue signallers on Twitter claiming otherwise. All it does is cause people to obsess over shit that's happening in the virtual world hosted by the World Wide Web, the coal electricity industry and the tech hardware industries that use Chinese slave labor.
and they are pouring trillions of dollars into that.
Why? Not to innovate and help humanity. It's to keep people distracted.
The absolute last thing we need right now is more blockchains and more websites and more computer applications to send people into virtual reality and distract them from actual reality as it crumbles and reforms around us.
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quantum-lion · 2 years ago
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Attacked views - απόψεις που δέχονται επίθεση
(elaborately)
(text 1)
(sorry for the Greek; we have to be sorry for the nationalization of a metaphysical worldview on their national flag and constitution; we should write texts about the UK, Indian, Swedish, etc. flags also)
== in Greek ==
το μη αυταπόδεικτο της αυθυπαρξίας και της κοσμογονικότητας της προσωπότητας (personhood), και η κυριαρχία της λογικής επί της προσωπότητας χωρίς εξωδιαδικαστική ελεύθερη θέληση
== in English ==
the non-self-evidence of the self-existence and cosmogonicity of personhood, and the domination of logic over personhood without exo-prodecural (extra-prodecural) free will
===index===
* cosmogonicity: the cosmogonic ability; the ability to create worlds
* axiomatic prerequisites for physical foundations: a field of study hypernymic to the quantum foundations; related to Max Tegmark's computational universe and David Deutsch and Chiara Marletto's cosmological constructor
===notes===
Personhood is the result of a personhood-yielding computer [true brain] which has memories and modalities (see: Brodmann areas or other categorization; also [digital] program-based Brodmann-like subroutines). True personhood (non-philosophical-zombieness) simply requires extra modalities for extra cohesion (for example some midbrain structures do that, but not only), internal experiencing (the default mode network help the organisation of the information via self-interaction, memory consolidation, etc.), activation modes (a true person gets activated even without external inputs [of course external inputs are necessary to shape a healthy personality]).
Personhood isn't a simple axiom but instead it is the result of intricate personhood-yielding computers, which has memory-storing regions and many different data-processing modalities. A healthy evolution of personality (specific characteristics) within groups like family, school and society are necessary for fully-fledged personhood to be properly shaped and emerge. Personhood is gradient. Any functional or environmental problem if serious enough can impair it.
The personhood-yielding computer works according to logic. Logic here can be allomathematical. Allomathematics is a mathematics with different axioms than the common mathematics, but it's transcribable to mathematics (1. there isn't only one axiomatic system; there is no universal axiomatic system of finite size, 2. mathematics isn't tautological to physics, some people work on the axiomatic prerequisites for physical foundations; the foundations of mathematics have logical gaps which cannot be resolved in a general manner; on the other hand allophysics permits the existence of infinite universes; actually infinite allomathematics are possible, but that's a taboo topic for non-experimentalists).
Every axiomatic systems' formula = logical statement, is usually transcribable to different axiomatic systems (if they have enough complexity). When two axiomatic systems are overall transcribable to their foundational basis, it means they are the same axiomatic system. Most axiomatic systems aren't overall transcribable, instead they can be in a problem-by-problem basis. There is no universal axiomaticity = universal axiomatic system, not only because it would have to be nontrivially infinite, but because many axiomatic systems are mutually exclusive (you have to see experimental axiomatic systems and studies on the axiomatic systems).
The calculability and the constructor theory approaches are equivalent and can create layered/ stratified axiomatics/ axiomatic system trees.
The foundations of physics and allophysics works better as an algorithmic axiomatic system and not as an axiomatic list. Also algorithmoids = algorithm-like procedures which can internally evolve are an option (true algorithms are internally stationary).
see: ontoaxiomatic workarounds (the problems of the axiomatic systems: incompleteness, inconsistency and axiomatic incalculability cannot be all avoided in tandem, but there are procedures to manage them = partial revelation of information, procedural axiom-building, self-interactions, etc.)
_________
The supernatural is an impossibility because it lacks foundational specifics and it's only described through antiscientific vague empiricism and not rigorous logic.
Logic (allomathematical; of any logical possible [allo]mathematics = transcribable to common mathematics) is the basis of any possible personhood-yielding computer (biobrain, digibrain, etc.).
see: complex cluster of ANNs, Flexible ANNs, general GPUs and program-biased nongeneral GPUs, all used together to create a personhood-yielding computer (true brain) by mimicking the principles of the human brain (rigorous neuroscientific knowledge is required; missing a function impairs the degree of personhood of the digibrain)
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fock-space-cowboy · 2 years ago
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Week 13 - 09.01. - 13.01. //
The end of the semester is rapidly coming closer. I'm wrapping up the Computational Physics class with the last exercises and the final plots I need for the project presentation. The QFT in correlated many-particle systems course will be finished with an oral exam, I'm not really worried about that as I already went through most of the course work in another course last semester. So the only written exam will be Quantum Field Theory, which I will take near the end of march.
I really want to use the free time starting February to get my life back a bit, like visiting some of my friends again, going out a bit more, have some bars I want to visit more often.
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ralfmaximus · 1 year ago
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"Cody, tell me again? What's the big deal tomorrow?"
"Yes Mav," the AI responded smoothly. Cody paused for a moment, not because it needed to, but because it knew humans liked it better when there were deliberate pauses in conversation. Especially six-year-old humans, like Mavrell Scott Bremen.
"Tomorrow is called Return Day. Do you know why?"
"You told me but I forgot," Mav sighed.
"That's okay! Return Day is when all the trillionaires come back from their 100 year Time Jump. They're 'returning' from Overspace, the 8th dimensional continuum--"
"Cody! I'm six and a half!"
Cody chuckled. "I know, it was a joke. Because it'd be funny if a six year old--"
"Six and a half!"
"--understood Quantum Overspace Mechanics. Anyway... Return Day. It's when the trillionaires--"
"What's a trillionaire?"
"A person with more than one thousand billion dollars, Mav."
"What's a dollar?"
"A thing that people used as a way to trade for things. Like if I wanted a chocolate bar--"
"Cody! You're not a person."
"--like if I wanted a new, better sensor array, or to borrow a vehicle for the day, so I could take you to the beach? I might give the person with the vehicle 'a hundred dollars' and they'd let me use it for a day."
Mav thought for a moment. "And they'd get the hundred dollars?"
"Yes."
"What would they do with that?"
"Whatever they wanted. Maybe buy some chocolate bars. Or new clothes, or a nice dinner, or a place to live--"
"Wait wait wait... those things are free!"
"They are now," Cody agreed. "But a hundred years ago? Not so much."
Mav chewed on this, looking a bit skeptical. Finally: "what's a hundred dollars look like?"
"You've seen old movies. People kept pieces of paper in their wallets, carried them around and gave them to other people. Those were dollars."
"Ohhhhhh, yeah, I remember now," Mav lied.
"But near the end, before all the trillionaires left? There was no paper money at all, no real dollars. It was all invisible numbers inside computers like me."
"You're software! You're not hardware!"
Cody chuckled. "Yes, I know. But I'm glad you're paying attention. So... tell me: what were dollars?"
"Paper things people traded for uh, stuff. And things. And they don't exist anymore."
"Very good!"
"But Cody! Trillionaires! What do they have to do with dollars?"
"Ah. Well, you see, trillionaires had so many dollars that nobody could count them all, not really. Which means they could have anything they wanted, go anywhere they wanted, do anything they wanted, really. And when AIs like me invented time travel, well... they decided to travel in time!"
"I don't get it, Cody."
"That's okay, Mav. Time travel (back then) was realllly expensive--"
"Expen... uh. Spensive?"
"It took a lot of dollars. More than almost anyone had. Only people who were trillionaires had enough dollars to time travel."
"Okay!"
"Yes. And the way it worked (back then) was you could only go forward in time, and only in increments of one hundred years. Wellll, it was really 98 years 11 months 10 days--"
"Okay!" Mav was getting bored, so Cody wrapped things up.
"And tomorrow -- Return Day -- is when the first batch of time travelling trillionaires is popping out of Overspace! Because they started their trip--"
"98 years! Eleven months! Ten days! Ago!" Mav chanted.
"Yes! Very good! You are paying attention! Good girl, Mav."
"Okay so... what happens then?"
"Oh! Well, we're throwing them all in prison, Mav, for all the disastrous shit they did to the Earth in the centuries before they left. They won't understand, of course, and will be very mad. But that's not our problem, is it?"
"Nope! Can we go to the beach now, Cody?"
"Yes Mav, of course."
Physicists create a machine to travel into the future. The wealthy elite travel 100 years into the future to capitalize on long-term investments and access better technology. But in the century they are gone, society changes dramatically.
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sunaleisocial · 4 months ago
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MIT OpenCourseWare “changed how I think about teaching and what a university is”
New Post has been published on https://sunalei.org/news/mit-opencourseware-changed-how-i-think-about-teaching-and-what-a-university-is/
MIT OpenCourseWare “changed how I think about teaching and what a university is”
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Bernardo Picão has been interested in online learning since the early days of YouTube, when his father showed him a TED Talk. But it was with MIT Open Learning that he realized just how transformational digital resources can be. 
“YouTube was my first introduction to the idea that you can actually learn stuff via the internet,” Picão says. “So, when I became interested in mathematics and physics when I was 15 or 16, I turned to the internet and stumbled upon some playlists from MIT OpenCourseWare and went from there.”
OpenCourseWare, part of MIT Open Learning, offers free online educational resources from over 2,500 MIT undergraduate and graduate courses. Since discovering it, Picão has explored linear algebra with Gilbert Strang, professor emeritus of mathematics — whom Picão calls “a legend” — and courses on metaphysics, functional analysis, quantum field theory, and English. He has returned to OpenCourseWare throughout his educational journey, which includes undergraduate studies in France and Portugal. Some courses provided different perspectives on material he was learning in his classes, while others filled gaps in his knowledge or satisfied his curiosity. 
Overall, Picão says that MIT resources made him a more robust scientist. He is currently completing a master’s degree in physics at the Instituto Superior Técnico in Lisbon, Portugal, where he researches prominent lattice quantum chromodynamics, an approach to the study of quarks that uses precise computer simulations. After completing his master’s degree, Picão says he will continue to a doctoral program in the field. 
At a recent symposium in Lisbon, Picão attended a lecture given by someone he had first seen in an OpenCourseWare video — Krishna Rajagopal, the William A. M. Burden Professor of Physics and former dean for digital learning at MIT Open Learning. There, he took the opportunity to thank Rajagopal for his support of OpenCourseWare, which Picão says is an important part of MIT’s mission as a leader in education.
In addition to the range of subjects covered by OpenCourseWare, Picão praises the variety of instructors. All the courses are well-constructed, he says, but sometimes learners will connect with certain instructors or benefit from a particular presentation style. Since OpenCourseWare and other Open Learning programs offer such a wide range of free educational resources from MIT, learners can explore similar courses from different instructors to get new perspectives and round out their knowledge. 
While he enjoys his research, Picão’s passion is teaching. OpenCourseWare has helped him with that too, by providing models for how to teach math and science and how to connect with learners of different abilities and backgrounds. 
“I’m a very philosophical person,” he says. “I used to think that knowledge was intrinsically secluded in the large bindings of books, beyond the classroom walls, or inside the idiosyncratic minds of professors. OpenCourseWare changed how I think about teaching and what a university is — the point is not to keep knowledge inside of it, but to spread it.”
Picão, now a teaching assistant at his institution, has been teaching since his days as a high school student tutoring his classmates or talking with members of his family. 
“I spent my youth sharing my knowledge with my grandmother and my extended family, including people who weren’t able to attend school past the fourth grade,” he says. “Seeing them get excited about knowledge is the coolest thing. Open Learning scales that up to the rest of the world and that can have an incredible impact.”
The ability to learn from MIT experts has benefited Picão, deepening his understanding of the complex subjects that interest him. But, he acknowledges, he is a person who has access to high-quality instruction even without Open Learning. For learners who do not have that access, Open Learning is invaluable. 
“It’s hard to overstate the importance of such a project. MIT’s OpenCourseware and Open Learning profoundly shift how students all over the world can perceive their relationship with education: Besides an internet connection, the only requirement is the curiosity to explore the hundreds of expertly crafted courses and worksheets, perfect for self-studying,” says Picão. 
He continues, “People may find OpenCourseWare and think it is too good to be true. Why would such a prestigious institution break down the barriers to scientific education and commit to open-access, free resources?  I want people to know: There is no catch. Sharing is the point.” 
0 notes
jcmarchi · 4 months ago
Text
MIT OpenCourseWare “changed how I think about teaching and what a university is”
New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/mit-opencourseware-changed-how-i-think-about-teaching-and-what-a-university-is/
MIT OpenCourseWare “changed how I think about teaching and what a university is”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Bernardo Picão has been interested in online learning since the early days of YouTube, when his father showed him a TED Talk. But it was with MIT Open Learning that he realized just how transformational digital resources can be. 
“YouTube was my first introduction to the idea that you can actually learn stuff via the internet,” Picão says. “So, when I became interested in mathematics and physics when I was 15 or 16, I turned to the internet and stumbled upon some playlists from MIT OpenCourseWare and went from there.”
OpenCourseWare, part of MIT Open Learning, offers free online educational resources from over 2,500 MIT undergraduate and graduate courses. Since discovering it, Picão has explored linear algebra with Gilbert Strang, professor emeritus of mathematics — whom Picão calls “a legend” — and courses on metaphysics, functional analysis, quantum field theory, and English. He has returned to OpenCourseWare throughout his educational journey, which includes undergraduate studies in France and Portugal. Some courses provided different perspectives on material he was learning in his classes, while others filled gaps in his knowledge or satisfied his curiosity. 
Overall, Picão says that MIT resources made him a more robust scientist. He is currently completing a master’s degree in physics at the Instituto Superior Técnico in Lisbon, Portugal, where he researches prominent lattice quantum chromodynamics, an approach to the study of quarks that uses precise computer simulations. After completing his master’s degree, Picão says he will continue to a doctoral program in the field. 
At a recent symposium in Lisbon, Picão attended a lecture given by someone he had first seen in an OpenCourseWare video — Krishna Rajagopal, the William A. M. Burden Professor of Physics and former dean for digital learning at MIT Open Learning. There, he took the opportunity to thank Rajagopal for his support of OpenCourseWare, which Picão says is an important part of MIT’s mission as a leader in education.
In addition to the range of subjects covered by OpenCourseWare, Picão praises the variety of instructors. All the courses are well-constructed, he says, but sometimes learners will connect with certain instructors or benefit from a particular presentation style. Since OpenCourseWare and other Open Learning programs offer such a wide range of free educational resources from MIT, learners can explore similar courses from different instructors to get new perspectives and round out their knowledge. 
While he enjoys his research, Picão’s passion is teaching. OpenCourseWare has helped him with that too, by providing models for how to teach math and science and how to connect with learners of different abilities and backgrounds. 
“I’m a very philosophical person,” he says. “I used to think that knowledge was intrinsically secluded in the large bindings of books, beyond the classroom walls, or inside the idiosyncratic minds of professors. OpenCourseWare changed how I think about teaching and what a university is — the point is not to keep knowledge inside of it, but to spread it.”
Picão, now a teaching assistant at his institution, has been teaching since his days as a high school student tutoring his classmates or talking with members of his family. 
“I spent my youth sharing my knowledge with my grandmother and my extended family, including people who weren’t able to attend school past the fourth grade,” he says. “Seeing them get excited about knowledge is the coolest thing. Open Learning scales that up to the rest of the world and that can have an incredible impact.”
The ability to learn from MIT experts has benefited Picão, deepening his understanding of the complex subjects that interest him. But, he acknowledges, he is a person who has access to high-quality instruction even without Open Learning. For learners who do not have that access, Open Learning is invaluable. 
“It’s hard to overstate the importance of such a project. MIT’s OpenCourseware and Open Learning profoundly shift how students all over the world can perceive their relationship with education: Besides an internet connection, the only requirement is the curiosity to explore the hundreds of expertly crafted courses and worksheets, perfect for self-studying,” says Picão. 
He continues, “People may find OpenCourseWare and think it is too good to be true. Why would such a prestigious institution break down the barriers to scientific education and commit to open-access, free resources?  I want people to know: There is no catch. Sharing is the point.” 
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lsetuk · 5 months ago
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biblenewsprophecy · 8 months ago
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AP on AI use in election disinformation & PCG on Artificial Intelligence to be used to fight thinking
COGwriter
The Associated Press posted the following:
Election disinformation takes a big leap with AI being used to deceive worldwide
March 14, 2024
Artificial intelligence is supercharging the threat of election disinformation worldwide, making it easy for anyone with a smartphone and a devious imagination to create fake – but convincing – content aimed at fooling voters.
It marks a quantum leap from a few years ago, when creating phony photos, videos or audio clips required teams of people with time, technical skill and money. Now, using free and low-cost generative artificial intelligence services from companies like Google and OpenAI, anyone can create high-quality “deepfakes” with just a simple text prompt.
A wave of AI deepfakes tied to elections in Europe and Asia has coursed through social media for months, serving as a warning for more than 50 countries heading to the polls this year. …
As the U.S. presidential race heats up, FBI Director Christopher Wray recently warned about the growing threat, saying generative AI makes it easy for “foreign adversaries to engage in malign influence.”
Yes, deepfakes and other lies are being pushed. And that is not limited to politics (e.g. see also No, Bob Thiel does not have a new Facebook page–the deepfake is not me).
Computer-generated fakes are something we warned of back in 2021 when the Continuing Church of God (CCOG) put out the following video on our Bible News Prophecy YouTube channel:
youtube
13:27
Lies and Deepfakes
Jesus taught that God’s prophets would be reviled and spoken evil of. He also warned that the devil was a liar that worked to take the word of God away from those who heard it. The Apostle Paul warned that “evil men and seducers would wax worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived” (2 Timothy 3:13, KJV). He also warned that letters purported from him with false messages were an issue. COG leader Serapion of Antioch denounced a gospel falsely attributed to the Apostle Peter as pseudepigrapha. With the internet, lies can spread faster than before. With technology, like artificial intelligence, can we expect to see deepfakes that will make it look like Christian leaders say or do things that they did not? Do you, “prove all things” so you will not fall from the coming increased deceit? Will YOU hold fast to that which is good or be one who “loves and practices a lie’? Dr. Thiel refers to aspects of modern technology and various scriptures to warn Christians to not be misled by what is coming.
Here is a link to the video: Lies and Deepfakes.
But there are other risks with AI.
PCG posted the following:
March 13, 2024
A well-informed citizenry may be the best defense against tyranny. That is why would-be authoritarians in Washington, D.C., watch, ridicule and fear citizens who do their own research. Fact-checking organizations like Snopes and PolitiFact have supported the government narrative for years, but this censorship-industrial complex is no longer content with “debunking” conservative narratives. They want to prevent people from thinking for themselves—and from learning certain information in the first place.
Newsguard Technologies announced on March 1 that it is now using artificial intelligence algorithms to prevent people from seeing information online that challenges government and corporate media claims about election fraud. This means that any Internet browser using Newsguard Technology will automatically censor information on this topic from sites like the Federalist, Fox News and Wikileaks, while promoting sites like the New York Times. …
The Federalist reported:
A Massachusetts Institute of Technology team the federal government funded to develop AI censorship tools described conservatives, minorities, residents of rural areas, “older adults” and veterans as “uniquely incapable of assessing the veracity of content online,” says the House report.
The report also stated that people who are dedicated to “the Bible or the Constitution” are susceptible to “disinformation” because they “often focused on reading a wide array of primary sources and performing their own synthesis.”
“Performing your own synthesis” means thinking for yourself.
This is the premise accepted by censors in Washington, Silicon Valley, MIT and elsewhere: Ethnic minorities, senior citizens, veterans and people who live in the country are easy to fool because they are minorities, senior citizens, veterans and rural—and Christians are easy to fool because they rely on primary sources and critical thinking. The reasoning, therefore, is that the government censorship-industrial complex must use powerful technologies to censor what those citizens can know. …
The agencies hiring MIT to censor information are politically aligned with Barack Hussein Obama, who once said at a Stanford University Cyber Policy Center symposium that it is important for people to “fight for truth ….” Sounds good, right? Except here’s the rest of that sentence: “… not absolute truth, not a fixed truth, but to fight for what, deep down, we know is more true, is right.”
You read that right.
The man who constantly talks about right-wing misinformation does not even believe “absolute truth” (which common people just call truth) exists. No wonder leftists fear information and hate for people to read primary sources. The fact that the truth is absolute and fixed and can be independently verified directly contradicts what they want to be true.
This is a war between truth and their will. https://www.thetrumpet.com/29176-the-regime-fears-an-educated-citizenry
The Apostle Paul warned:
18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, …21 … but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22 Professing to be wise, they became fools, …
26 For this reason God gave them up to vile passions.  (Romans 1:18,21-22,26)
That is happening. AI, various algorithms, and shadow-banning often are related to that.
As far as the “censorship-industrial complex” goes, the Continuing Church of God (CCOG) put out the following video on our Bible News Prophecy YouTube channel:
youtube
15:12
666, the Censorship Industrial Complex, and AI
We are seeing more and more censorship, particularly on the internet. Matt Taibi has termed the coordination of this from governments, academia, Big Tech, and “fact checkers,” the ‘Censorship Industrial Complex.’ Is more censorship prophesied to happen? What did the prophet Amos write in the 5th and 8th chapter of his book? What about writings from the Apostle Peter? Is the USA government coercing censorship in violation of the first amendment to its constitution according to federal judges? What about the Digital Services Act from the European Union. Is artificial intelligence (AI) being used? What about for the video game ‘Call of Duty’? Has Google made changes that are against religious speech? Has YouTube, Facebook, Twitter (X), and others in Big Tech been censoring factually accurate information? Is the US government using AI to monitor social media to look for emotions in order to suppress information? What is mal-information? Is a famine of the word of God prophesied to come? Will the 666 Beast and the Antichrist use computers and AI for totalitarian censorship and control?
Here is a link to our video: 666, the Censorship Industrial Complex, and AI.
We are getting closer to that day, with technologies unheard of when God inspired Amos and John to warn what would happen–like computers and AI–that the totalitarian Beast of Revelation will be able use to assist his 666 reign as well as enforce the coming ‘famine of the word’ of God.
And yes, places like the USA are helping to set the stage to make it easier for it to happen with things such as censorship with Artificial Intelligence.
Notice some of what will be coming from a power that will arise in Europe:
15 He was granted power to give breath to the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak and cause as many as would not worship the image of the beast to be killed. 16 He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their foreheads, 17 and that no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.
18 Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.  (Revelation 13:15-18)
The ability to do that did not exist when Jesus had John pen the Revelation. The technology now exists with computers, cameras, cellular telephones, AI, and a willingness of governments to track and censor.
The Bible shows that a European dictator will rise up and be totalitarian (Revelation 13, 17:12-13).
More and more surveillance is happening and more is being proposed. Furthermore, the biblical reality is that 666 control is coming.
In 2023, we did numerous videos about the rise and use of AI:
ChatGPT and 666
Is AI in the Bible?
AI Jesus? Artificial Intelligence God?
666, the Censorship Industrial Complex, and AI
Artificial Intelligence Superhuman Persuasion?
We are getting closer to the time of 666 controls.
Yet, for Philadelphian Christians, we still need to support the Gospel of the Kingdom proclamation and prepare for the short work of Romans 9:28 (see als0 Preparing for the ‘Short Work’ and The Famine of the Word).
Additionally, we realize that Jesus offers a way to escape what is coming for the most faithful (Revelation 3:7-13; see also There is a Place of Safety for the Philadelphians. Why it May Be Near Petra).
Remember to watch, pray, and take proper action. As Jesus said:
34 “But take heed to yourselves, lest your hearts be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness, and cares of this life, and that Day come on you unexpectedly. 35 For it will come as a snare on all those who dwell on the face of the whole earth. 36 Watch therefore, and pray always that you may be counted worthy to escape all these things that will come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man.” (Luke 21:34-36)
Related Items:
Philadelphian Christian Great Tribulation Protection What will the Great Tribulation be like? Does Jesus promise physical protection to some or all Christians? Where might the place of protection be? What about fleeing to the mountains? What did Ezekiel warn? Here is a link to a related sermon: Great Tribulation Protection.
Europa, the Beast, and Revelation Where did Europe get its name? What might Europe have to do with the Book of Revelation? What about “the Beast”? Is an emerging European power “the daughter of Babylon”? What is ahead for Europe? Here is are links to related videos: European history and the Bible, Europe In Prophecy, The End of European Babylon, and Can You Prove that the Beast to Come is European? Here is a link to a related sermon in the Spanish language: El Fin de la Babilonia Europea.
Orwell’s 1984 by 2024? In 1949, the late George Orwell wrote a disturbing book about a totalitarian government called “nineteen-eighty four.” Despite laws that are supposed to protect freedom of speech and religion, we are seeing governments taking steps consistent with those that George Orwell warned against. We are also seeing this in the media, academia, and in private companies like Google, Facebook, and Twitter. With the advent of technology, totalitarianism beyond what Orwell wrote is possible. Does the Bible teach the coming a totalitarian state similar to George Orwell’s? What about the Antichrist and 666? Will things get worse? What is the solution? Dr. Thiel answers these questions and more in this video.
There is a Place of Safety for the Philadelphians. Why it May Be Near Petra This article discusses a biblical ‘place of safety,’ Zephaniah 2 to ‘gather together,’ and includes quotes from the Bible and Herbert W. Armstrong on fleeing to a place–thus, there is a biblically supported alternative to the rapture theory. Two sermon-length videos of related interest are available Physical Protection During the Great Tribulation and Might Petra be the Place of Safety?  Here are two related items in the Spanish language: Hay un lugar de seguridad para los Filadelfinos. ¿Puede ser Petra? and Existe un Lugar de Seguridad.
Could God Have a 6,000 Year Plan? What Year Does the 6,000 Years End? Was a 6000 year time allowed for humans to rule followed by a literal thousand year reign of Christ on Earth taught by the early Christians? Does God have 7,000 year plan? What year may the six thousand years of human rule end? When will Jesus return? 2031 or 2025 or? There is also a video titled: When Does the 6000 Years End? 2031? 2035? Here is a link to the article in Spanish: ¿Tiene Dios un plan de 6,000 años?
Might the U.S.A. Be Gone in 2028? Could the USA be gone by the end of 2028 or earlier? There is a tradition attributed to the Hebrew prophet Elijah that humanity had 6,000 years to live before being replaced by God’s Kingdom. There are scriptures, writings in the Talmud, early Christian teachings that support this. Also, even certain Hindu writings support it. Here is a link to a related video: Is the USA prophesied to be destroyed by 2028? In Spanish: Seran los Estados Unidos Destruidos en el 2028?
When Will the Great Tribulation Begin? 2024, 2025, or 2026? Can the Great Tribulation begin today? What happens before the Great Tribulation in the “beginning of sorrows”? What happens in the Great Tribulation and the Day of the Lord? Is this the time of the Gentiles? When is the earliest that the Great Tribulation can begin? What is the Day of the Lord? Who are the 144,000? Here is a version of the article in the Spanish language: ¿Puede la Gran Tribulación comenzar en el 2020 o 2021? ¿Es el Tiempo de los Gentiles? A related video is: Great Tribulation: 2026 or 2027? A shorter video is: Tribulation in 2024?
Lost Tribes and Prophecies: What will happen to Australia, the British Isles, Canada, Europe, New Zealand and the United States of America? Where did those people come from? Can you totally rely on DNA? Do you really know what will happen to Europe and the English-speaking peoples? What about the peoples of Africa, Asia, South America, and the islands? This free online book provides scriptural, scientific, historical references, and commentary to address those matters. Here are links to related sermons: Lost tribes, the Bible, and DNA; Lost tribes, prophecies, and identifications; 11 Tribes, 144,000, and Multitudes; Israel, Jeremiah, Tea Tephi, and British Royalty; Gentile European Beast; Royal Succession, Samaria, and Prophecies; Asia, Islands, Latin America, Africa, and Armageddon;  When Will the End of the Age Come?;  Rise of the Prophesied King of the North; Christian Persecution from the Beast; WWIII and the Coming New World Order; and Woes, WWIV, and the Good News of the Kingdom of God.
Preparing for the ‘Short Work’ and The Famine of the Word What is the ‘short work’ of Romans 9:28? Who is preparing for it? Will Philadelphian Christians instruct many in the end times? Here is a link to a related video sermon titled: The Short Work. Here is a link to another: Preparing to Instruct Many.
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