#quantum potential field

[frank-olivier]

Rupert Sheldrake, Mark Vernon

David Bohm: His Life and Ideas (June 2020)

Monday, December 19, 2022

[narwhalandchill]

thought seele was clearing like shit on MoC 9 2nd half just now, quit, benched her ass for xueyi (who went apeshit as usual on quantum content. my beloved) only to then realize she was on no fucking LC afterwards 😭😭😭 im sorry girl

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ❞

❝ PROF. GOJO SHOWS YOU JUST HOW THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION WORK !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!gojo x f!reader (part one of the prof gojo series)

✧ summary: satoru gojo was only stuck at this weeklong conference to appease his new boss, so what happens when he finds you at the bar and can't stop thinking about just how attractive you are? and what happens when the conference is over?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, hooking up at an academic conference, reader is a professor, fingering (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), gojo getting very horny around you, so much flirting, amateur's take on physics, art by found on Pinterest (pls let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ wc: 10,878

“Come here often?”

If someone had asked Professor Satoru Gojo that a few months ago, he would have said—no he would have scoffed and asked if he looked like a professor who had to beg for funding — and he didn’t. But now, he swirled his drink, ice cubes clinking against the sides of the condensation-ridden glass — who knows?

His new department head might have his termination papers drawn from the moment he returns to the university from his very extended research trip — with no results to show for it. Normally he wouldn’t be worried — not with his renowned academic record, but he had extended this trip twice — and one of those on the university’s payroll.

And it wasn’t a cheap payroll.

To top it off, the new department head was doing a lecture here today at this conference hosted by his university, He had heard the new head was a real hard ass, a person who had straightened out the department while he had been away — garnering more grants, but also cutting funding to continual failures. And he and his research had been asked about.

Fuck. He downed his fruity mocktail, the sweet syrupy fruit juice doing little to soothe the bitter aftertaste of failure that lingered on his tongue.

He usually wouldn’t be so worried. He was Satoru Gojo — he had been the youngest in his field to achieve a Ph.D. in the field of Quantum Physics, a respected expert and renowned lecturer, and one of the scientists most likely to win a Nobel prize within the next few years or so. Or so his biography on LinkedIn said.

But that had gone up in smoke — his research on the potential curvature of quantum space-time as a method to slow or speed up time between two points of matter had been a complete failure.

One of his first major failures.

He sighs, and here he was feeling sorry for himself — alone. Or relatively so. His glass clinked against the sticky bar top of the tacky bar of the hotel they decided to hold this conference in — the rings from long-gone drinks lining up and down the relatively empty bar, other patrons having left for their rooms.

But not you.

He hadn’t met you before — not really. Although it was not as if he had made a habit of befriending people at any academic event, he knew if he had seen your face before, he wouldn’t have forgotten. He stole a glance as he sipped at his drink, eyes flickering over your form as you approached the bar.

Honestly, if he had, he wouldn’t forget someone like you.

He had seen you earlier during the conference, a particularly biting question asked during a keynote presentation that had wiped the obnoxious grin off the pretentious guy’s face, his reply then ripped to shreds in seconds with a smile on your lips.

And you had left so quickly he didn’t get to thank you for your daring rescue of his captive audience as he finally ended his victory lap with a scurry out the door. But maybe now, he could thank you with a drink — eyes flitting to those pretty lips that hid your sharp tongue — or something more.

You order your drink, sitting a stool away, the creak of the rusty seat catching his attention, as your eyes slide to his, “And another of whatever he was having,” Satoru tilts his head as you shrug, “looks like you could use it,”

He gapes at you in mock offense, “Eh? I’ll have you know I’m the most excited person here,” he replies as the bartender places both drinks in front of you, “who wouldn’t be excited to be in some hotel for this prestigious academic conference?”

“Almost every sane person?” and he chuckles, swirling his drink with his straw, “and the good news is that it’s only just begun. We still have the whole week to be bored to tears and have our brains turn to mush when pretending to be interesting to get funding from stingy donors,”

“I don’t need to pretend — I am interesting,” his lips curl, and you snort, downing your drink, before setting it down, ice rattling at the bottom.

“Well, I’ll say your face is more interesting with a smile on it,” you take money from your bag and pay off the tab with a tip.

You’re slipping from the stool with ease, stepping past his stool, nearly brushing against his back, as you make your way out of the bar, and it almost feels as if you're slipping from his fingers, “Is that a compliment?”

You pause, looking back over your shoulder, “You’ll know when I’m complimenting you,” and your smile is far better than his is, a heat settling over his cheeks at the sight of it, “see you around,”

And you’re gone, and he’s left dumbstruck, bitter taste in his mouth slowly beginning to fade — but he knows that the only way it would completely sink into sweetness is if he could have your name roll off his lips — maybe something even sweeter.

He paid for his drink with a tip, sliding off the stool himself, running a hand through his hair.

He could only hope you came here often now.

~~~

It was pathetic how often he had found himself frequenting this bar over the weekend. How frequent? The bartender had learned his name by memory the third time he showed up, his order already known and being prepared by the time he walked in.

So his drink was present — but you weren’t.

He hadn’t seen you around, but he had walked the floors of this conference and hadn’t seen even a glimpse of you. But why was he so desperate for a stranger that he met once? He wasn’t one for people — even from when he was a kid. People always saw him and his intellect as something they could take, they could use — an attraction that he only wished he could repel just as magnets did. He always had been shelved as a commodity in his field, but never trotted out for events because he never wanted to bother kissing up — he was better for a blunt word than mindless dribble.

Fuck him.

And now here he was — possibly at the end of his career and all he could concern himself with was this mystery woman he met at the hotel bar. Maybe because it was easier to think about — motion was the only thing he knew how to keep doing. Easier to keep in motion after a force acts on him than to keep still.

And you were a force.

“Y’know when I asked you if you come here often, I didn’t think I’d have come here to see you again,” the now familiar squeak and groan of the bar stool makes him want to bite his lip, “how long you’ve been here?”

He bites back his own grin, hoping not to look so desperate as he felt — was this a distraction from his own impending problems? Yes. But you were a welcome one.

“One drink, about fifteen minutes,” he replies, “I haven’t seen you around either — get stuck inside a conference room?” And you order your drink, “put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, and the man nods wordlessly, but adds a raised eyebrow when you’re looking away.

“Something like that,” and you’re wiping the counter with napkins before leaning against it with your arm, “but more like I was always doing something—I’m not one to—“

“Stand still?” you raise an eyebrow, as the bartender sets your drink in front of you, “staying in motion is the only thing I know how to do, especially these days,”

“Staying in motion?” you repeat, and Satoru shakes his head.

“I’m the type to go from thing to thing — my best friend always joked that I was no better than the first law of motion—”

You snort, cracking a smile, “Being in motion is better than being at rest,” you sigh, swirling the liquid in your glass, toying with the straw stirrers in your drink, “it’s easy to get used to stay still once you are,”

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and you’re sighing, downing the rest of your drink, as the ice clinks against the bottom of the empty glass.

“Ever have a failure that feels so deep it feels like there’s no going back? Not even a failure — just even a gap, and it feels as more time passes, the chasm widens before you and it becomes harder to see yourself making it to the other side,” you order another drink, turning to face him again, “soon you become more preoccupied with the abyss than thinking about how to make it across,”

“If you asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said no, but now,” he sighs, as he asks for a refill himself, “now I’m in that sinking ship with you,”

“Who said I was still there?” you reply and he’s gaping at you, before a laugh escapes your lips, “I got to shore, you will too,”

“And how do you know that?” And you only shrug, a smile on your lips that makes something in his heart stir that hasn’t in far too long.

“You don’t look like the type to drown,” and he tilts his head, “you look like the type who stubbornly figures out to swim, despite the odds,” and he snorts, as his drink is placed in front of him, “so maybe don’t give up so easily, after all the first time is the hardest,”

And he chuckles, “Personal experience?” You shrug, tracing the rim of your glass, “No, I always get what I really want the first time,” as you pause to catch his eye, a smile on your lips.

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I didn’t really want it,” you smile, as you get to your feet, “I have a dinner to get to, but I’ll leave you with this,” you wrote something down on the napkin you had gotten with your drink, folding it and handing it to him.

He takes it, but his eyes remain on you, “You’re always disappearing — want to keep me wanting, Professor?”

“You’d want me anyway,” and Satoru is turning in the stool to watch you walk off, a glimpse of a small smile on your lips, as he looks at the writing on the napkin.

—because he knows you’re right.

~~~

“You want me right, Professor?” you murmured in his ear, hot words said as your warm breath fanned across his skin, but your lips were more sinful than your words — pressing torturously chaste kisses along his jaw, your front pressed to your back, as your hands ghosted along his chest. One of your hands toyed with the top button of his shirt, while the other traced along his collarbone, “you followed me after all.”

And he did, Satoru had caught you by wrist, a graze that had your head flicking back, finding his blue, and your lips curled — and he just knew he was fucked.

He just didn’t know how well.

You had him sat on the couch, back to the armrest, biting back needy noises that he refused to let leave his lips, not yet at least, “Y’know I want you, sweetheart,” a small shiver crawling up his spine as your lips graze the soft skin of his ear, “I’m not exactly playing hard to get by coming up to your room, am I?”

And your hand drags lower, brushing against his growing bulge, a low groan in his chest, “Oh I’d say you’re fairly hard, Toru,” and your forefinger presses teasingly against his clothed slit, “so hard already, wonder what would happen if I got you in my mouth, flicked my tongue over the length, made you moan my name as your cock fucked my throat?” And fuck, maybe he was wrong — maybe your words were worse, his dick twitched against your touch, desperate as he felt for more of your touch, “where’s that mouth of yours now, Satoru?”

And you’re rounding him, guiding his legs so he’s sitting properly on the couch now, feet on the ground, but he certainly wasn’t clear-headed — not when you climbed into his lap. A grunt left his lips, a weight that’s a comfort rather than a burden, something he welcomes because he only needs you closer and closer until there’s no space left between you at all.

“My mouth is desperate to do something other than talk, baby,” and his fingers winding their way through your locks before resting against the nape of your neck, and the other trying to slide down the swell of your hip only for your hand to stop him, “but only if you’ll let me I guess,” his lips curl into a smirk, one that you drag your thumb down.

“I will,” your lips are barely a breath away from his own, noses bumping, as the anticipation grows thicker than honeyed molasses one that seems to consume every one of his thoughts at a snail's pace as he remains stuck on two things — you and your lips, “once I’m done teaching you my lesson,” and your lips brush.

“Sir?” The bill is slapped down in front of him, as he snaps back to reality, the sounds of bar stools thumping against the counter as they are mounted on top jars him, as he shakes himself free from his thoughts, “bar isn’t for sleeping, go to your room,” His cheeks burn.

Satoru pulls several bills out and leaves a generous tip, before sliding off his stool with a shake of his head, and a distinct ache between his thighs, that he quickly hides with his suit coat draped on his arm in front of him.

“Not anything you serve here.”

~~~

You’re like a daydream, Satoru realizes when he’s making his way to the hotel bar again. One that he’s using as a distraction — but a lovely daydream all the same. His conference days are spent waiting for a respite at the bar in the evenings — the only time he felt intellectually stimulated at a mechanically orchestrated event like this.

And one that he couldn’t get out of his head. The daydream he had was so vivid, he could swear it was reality if he hadn’t been so rudely awakened. And right when it was getting to—

Oh, what the fuck was he thinking? He shakes his head as if it would rid his head of his thoughts (it doesn’t).

He ran his fingers through his hair, what was it about you? You were gorgeous, sure, and brilliant enough to match him barb for barb, but you were just —- gravitational. He could feel him pulled in by your orbit and he found himself not resisting your force in the slightest — only hoping to accelerate.

Was this the phenomenon of quantum entanglement? He knew it was true for the tiniest of particles, the very same forces that pulled him close, he knew were pulling you close too — doomed in the same downward spiral without having to spare a glance. But did he?

He didn’t know the first thing about you — he only knew you were someone related to the field of physics — you had to be a professor, far too smart to be a generous donor. He only knew your first name, and you knew the same about him — and there was a part of him that preferred it that way. He had grown used to the attention given to him for simply his name — and he felt as if it was as if he had been placed on a pedestal that no one would dare to climb to speak, but instead only looked up. He almost chuckled at the thought of you ever doing that — but you were more the type to kick the pedestal out from under him, and force him to meet your gaze.

And he much preferred that — and you.

And now, he glances at the bar as it came into view, a double take almost warranted at the sight — was he dreaming again, even before his head had even attempted to hit the pillow? Or was it true that you were sitting at the bar nursing a drink alone? Pretty eyes glancing at the time on your phone and he bit back a smile, stepping towards you — eager remark about how long you’ve been waiting for him? Even though he wasn’t one to talk — as he had spent his whole day waiting for this.

Waiting for you, rather.

He stopped when another man approached you — Satoru paused, and he supposed he had to wait longer. Who was this now? You didn’t seem to know him, leaning away as he stood near you, not too close, but he seemed to be talking shyly, and yet his words never seemed to stop. Even though it seemed you wanted them to.

And when he caught a glimpse of the man’s face, he realized just who the man was.

Well, well — he knew just what to do to get rid of him — appear.

“Hey,” Satoru walked over, leaning on the bar, meeting the man’s gaze with a smile, before his eyes slid back to you, “make a new friend?” He orders his drink with the bartender as he slides his gaze back to the man lingering, whose face had grown both soured and pale all at once.

“Sort of, yes, this is—“

“I actually must go, please excuse me,” the man abruptly says, bowing politely to the two of you before shooting a glare at Satoru before heading off towards the elevators.

“Nice seeing you too, Gege!” Satoru called after him, smirking at the man’s flinch just before he turned the corner, “that guy hates me,” he orders his drink, taking a seat beside you, “don’t know why,”

“I can see that,” you chuckle, glancing back where the man had disappeared off to, “he’s some sort of author?”

Satoru nods, as the bartender places his drink in front of him, “He is — a mangaka fascinated by physics, he pestered me with questions, but he didn’t like when I did the same,”

You snort, only imagining what kinds of questions he had bothered the man with, “You freaked out the freak?”

“Well, he couldn’t match me,” you smirked, as he leaned against the counter, sipping his drink, your head tilting, “can you?”

“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” you raise an eyebrow, as he grins, “think I’m doing a pretty good job so far,” and you shrug, a wry smile pulling at the corners of your lips as he pouts, “so cruel to treat the man that saved you from an uncomfortable conversation,” and he sighs dramatically, “maybe I’ll call Gege back down,”

You raise an eyebrow, “He wouldn’t come if you called,”

Satoru pauses, “He might if I promised to leave,”

“Is this your way of trying to get me to ask you to stay?” You were far too quick-witted for his own good.

“No this is my way of getting you to tell me that you want me to stay,” but lucky for him, he had the same biting tongue to match.

And you laugh, and he wants nothing more than to make you laugh again and again — a better achievement than any academic accolade that graced his walls, “Well I do owe you one,” you order another round.

“I think I earned more than a round of drinks,” and you raise an eyebrow, as you down the rest of your drink.

“And that is?”

~~~

“When you said we would be doing research, I assumed we would be doing research related to your speciality in physics, not—“

“This is important research,” Satoru led you through the streets, the stuffy halls of the conference growing more distant, “crucial to the furthering of our goals, our destinies,”

Satoru grinned, his smile somehow brighter than the sun itself, and even more obnoxious — but begrudgingly charming. He truly was a paradox incarnate — somehow bright but blinding, sweet but sharp, and enticing yet out of reach. Even more so in the casual white t-shirt and dark blue jeans he had opted for today, sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose as he looked at you over the rim with that irritatingly endearing grin.

And that grin must have been hypnotic because how else would he have convinced you to skip half a day of this week-long conference that you had been preparing for months to attend (that and you had grown tired of simply chugging your drink of choice between workshops and keynotes and skipping almost every meal except for some stale pastries offered at one of a dozen talks).

“And this crucial research is the best sweets shop in the area—“

You snort, as you eye the crowd of people in front of this particular shop, “Because that’s a question the physics community has been pondering — not dark matter or Baryon asymmetry—“

“Well, I know your specialty is astrophysics now,” and you roll your eyes, as his hand finds yours, fingers laced together, as he pulls you into the throng of people in front of the shop, “don’t wanna lose you there,”

“Is that your excuse to hold my hand?” You reply, lips nearly pressed to his ear with how loud it was.

He leans closer, his body pressed against your side, lips brushing your ear, “was I that obvious?” He grins, and pulls away as quickly as he had come, fingers parting yours as you both reach the front of the line. And why was it — your heart sinks ever so slightly at the absence of his warmth — that you mourned his touch as if you’d had it all your life instead of the first time?

“You coming, sweetheart?” and you snap from your thoughts, and follow up to the counter — brushing your thoughts aside as you occupied your head with the sweets in front of you — instead of the man obsessed with them beside you. You realize what he’s said and you’re not one for pet names, but the way it rolls off his tongue and sticks syrupy sweet in your head almost makes you like it

“Noooo, don’t!” You shield your strawberry dessert from his fork, as it prodded gently at the back of your palm, “you already ate so many desserts, why do you want mine?”

You had watched this grown man down half a dozen different cakes, pastries, and cookies — he was a walking advert for what not to do to contract diabetes. For as sharp as his tongue was, you watched him lick a bit of frosting from his lip, it probably tasted twice as sweet.

“Exactly because it’s yours,” he still tried but you caught his fork again with your own, “it’s so much sweeter when you steal it,”

“So we’re adding thievery to your list of crimes,” and he clutches at his chest in mock shock, “theft, harassment—“

He gapes at you, “Eh? When did I harass you?”

“Gege,” and he rolls his eyes.

“He loves me, he lives for me,”

“I think he wishes you would do the exact opposite,” and he pouts only to dart his hand out quick and steal a dollop of the airy frosting from the top of the cake on his form, he grins in victory, but you only lean forward, grabbing at his hand and lick it from his fork, “you’re right, it is sweeter, when you steal it,”

His eyes find yours and fuck, your heart nearly contused itself against your ribs, what was it about him that made you never want to look away? It was a game of chicken for you — stare until the other flinches, because then you could see them and they would never see you — and you had never lost—but he made you want to lose. But you also couldn’t bear to look away all the same.

“Suppose that was my first lesson for you, sweetheart,” and that sweetness seems to stick with you, the pet names growing on you.

“You do have a way of making me look at things at a different angle,” you admit, and you wonder why a man like this was so lost as he seemed — he was definitely seen, wherever he went, but never understood, “is that a talent of yours?”

“I tend to do my best with my back against the wall,” and you can’t help but imagine how he’d look with his back to a wall — it’s not a bad image.

Your lips curl, “I bet you do,” and you continue walking off, taking another bite of your cake, not noticing the way his eyes watched you — the same way you had.

~~~

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me to choose a place for dinner,” Satoru sighs, as the two of them are seated at the bar for dinner, the tables all full for the night, “I could have found us a place that would have given us an actual table,”

“For all I know, you would have somehow found a place that only serves dessert,” he scoffs, and the two of you order your drinks, as the waiter parts to bring your orders, “Don’t scoff at me, I know you probably know at least one place, if not ten,”

“I don’t know—” and you tilt your head, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs, a small smile pulling at his lips, “none of them are in the area, but there is a good ice cream place—”

You snort, not glancing up from perusing the menu, as the waiter brings over your drinks, and the two of you order — and to your surprise, he orders something savory and not sweet, “Surprised you didn’t ask for the dessert menu first,”

“Well, I do like to take my time, after all,” his lips curl into a small grin, as he lifts his glass to his pretty lips, “dessert is better when you’re patient,”

Oh? Oh.

“You don’t look like the type that’s used to waiting for what he wants,”

“You keep saying I look like this or that, screw that,” he leans back in his chair, “I can wait for the things I really want — and I always get what I want, sweetheart,”

You were toeing a line you shouldn’t be toeing — it was Schrodinger’s cat, and a box you shouldn’t look inside — because until you did, there was always a chance the cat was alive, and there was always a chance that this wouldn’t be a mistake — but once you opened it — there was no going back. But still — the words are pulled from your mouth as if you had no choice, the box tipping open of its own accord.

“And what is it that you—”

“Huh? Gojo?” your eyes snap over to a woman — a far too gorgeous woman, in a long black dress that floated down to her ankles, her black heels clicking against the wood of the floor of the restaurant, her silver hair in a tight high ponytail, bangs framing her face.

“Mei Mei,” his attention falls to her, and you’re left sitting, fully out of the loop and completely irritated, but you didn’t know why, “I didn’t know you were in town,”

“For good reason, then you might have a reason to avoid me,” Mei Mei smiles, “I saw Geto recently. He told me you were coming back soon from your sabbatical,” and you see a flicker of emotion cross his expression and disappear as quickly as it appeared, “and who’s this?”

You offer your hand and introduce yourself, “And are you a professor as well?”

“No, I’m a donor,” and you nod, “and what do you—” but then her friend is calling her back, her head turning.

“I should go back to my party, it was nice to meet you,” Mei Mei offers a smile before her gaze slithers its way back to Satoru, “I’m sure we’ll be speaking soon, Satoru. Let me know about that night out we had discussed.” Her fingers brush his shoulder, giving you a wry smile before slipping off.

And a sinking feeling settles over you — as he waves at her — a night out? Was this all this was? Another night out?

And your skin crawls as she walks off, Satoru turning back to look at you, your lips a thin line as you force your gaze back to his, “What were you saying again? And the waiter comes soon enough with your meals, placing them in front of them.

“Nothing,” your lips curl, perhaps this box was better left unopened, “nothing at all.”

~~~

“What’s wrong?” This was why Satoru didn’t care to get invested in others. When he couldn’t make heads or tails of himself — they expected him to make heads and tails of them. It was easier to write people off, put distance between him and them, than it was to draw close. He was used to too many being far too close, gawking as if he were an illustrious painting, unable to make out a single brushstroke much less who he was. But he never cared to explain or have anyone understand and he paid others the same courtesy.

Except you.

“I told you, nothing,” you sighed as you and Satoru made your way back to the hotel that was hosting the conference, “it’s just been a long day,”

And he could let this go, fall silent with a sharp remark that would only push you away, the same distance but eons further than you had ever been — a space-time curvature of his own making.

“You’re a terrible liar,” but he doesn’t.

“Well, my specialty isn’t lying I guess,” you snap, scrubbing a hand down your face, “sorry, I—“

“What do you think I lied about?” and you pause, as the two of you stand a few feet from the hotel, people filing in and out of the structure as bellmen and cars pull up to help them in and out of their cars, “about my brilliance? I know it can be hard to believe how someone can be so handsome and—“ you glare at him, and he sighs, “c’mon sweetheart, just tell me—“

“Who is Mei Mei to you?” your question surprises him, but seems to surprise you more, words falling from your lips without a first thought, much less a first, “I-I mean, uh—“

And he can’t help the grin that spreads over his lips — “I didn’t take you for the jealous type, sweetheart,” and your words failed you for once, “or maybe I should be calling you, Princess, because being jealous isn’t usually so sweet,”

“Satoru—“

“Except maybe when it’s you,” he takes a step forward, and fuck, you look so cute like this — your eyes unable to meet his with the usual defiance or smugness, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “think you’d be sweet no matter what you do,”

“I’m not jealous—“

“Uh-huh,” he smirks, “Mei Mei is just an old friend and tycoon of business — and she tends to have a night out to discuss opportunities and investment into education for a mutual benefit—“

“She wants a tax break?” And he nods, but your brow furrows, “then what was with the shoulder touch?”

“The shoulder touch?” and you click your tongue.

“She touched your shoulder, intimately,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it was! It was like this,” your fingers gesture over his shoulder, your thumb barely grazing over his shoulder blade.

He tilts his head, “That’s what you consider intimate?”

“Yes! Like,” you step forward, and he refuses to let his breath catch, but your perfume floods his senses, fingers nearly twitching to touch you — but he can’t, yet that makes it all the more tempting. Your fingers ghost over his shoulder, featherlike almost, and heat floods his body as if it’s his first time being touched by another — and it wasn’t, but it was his first time being touched by you.

“Like this,” and your words warm his skin, and it would be so easy to touch you — give you a taste of intimacy, and show that the only touch he craved was your own.

“I think I missed it, could you show me again?” he can’t help but tease when it’s so easy to do when you’re like this, “aw, come on, Professor, isn’t this supposed to be a hands-on lesson?”

Your body is far too close, yet too far all the same — had you managed to create the very phenomenon he had failed to study?

Your eyes finally found his, a spark of want that was only another match struck for the kindling, and your fingers drifted to his cheek. And he couldn’t help but lean into your touch, flames licking at his skin, but it was a burn he wanted more of, one he wished could consume him.

He leaned closer—until a group of people passing by, rowdy and drunk, made you flinch apart. And the moment was broken, flames extinguished—“I should go,” you murmur, and he nods, both of you taking a step back, “but if you’re not too busy falling asleep at keynotes, come to room 188 at 11:00 AM — I’m on a panel,”

“And you want me to come ask all the hard questions?” A smile graces your pretty lips, one he wishes he could memorize and map with his fingers — because it’s your smile and he’s the one who made you smile like that.

“I expect nothing less,” you turn to go inside as he calls after you.

“Was that a compliment?” and you cast a gaze over your shoulder yet again.

“Like I said, if and when I compliment you, you won’t need to ask that, Professor,” and with a flash of your smile, you were gone, and he was left outside in the humid air of the summer and the distinct sounds of cicadas and faint laughter and chatter of people outside the hotel. His fingers brushed against his shoulder, the ghost of your lingering touch still haunting him in the best way.

The flames were out, but the spark was still there — and that’s all you both needed.

For now.

~~

Fuck, he was late — and this time not on purpose.

Usually there was nothing more Satoru would like than to be late for a moderated panel — it was an excuse to skip altogether, to get lunch, a treat, a drink — anything other than sit through another session of educators and researchers alike stroking their own egos. But this was different.

It was for you.

He tugged off his crooked and badly tied tie and stuffed it in his pocket, sprinting to the conference room where you said you would be doing the panel. He had to oversleep — but it really was your fault. He couldn’t get to sleep, not after last night. The scent of your perfume still clung to him tauntingly, the phantom of your touch still haunted him, and the sight of your smile etched onto his eyelids each time he closed them.

He was so fucking screwed.

He wasn’t the time for sentimental bullshit. No, the world had bullied that deep inside of him, softness only reserved for the few friends he had and his students. But you had ripped it all to the surface. And now he was stuck moving at the same pace you were — a quantum coupling without the couple.

He gets to the door and he bursts in, a dramatic entrance much too loud for a conference. The room fell pindrop silence as all eyes stared at him. But his eyes, flitting like comets, finding their landing with you, and he would burn up in your atmosphere all the same with the glare on your face.

“Sorry, got a little lost,” he offers a small smile, before taking his seat, his eyes unwavering from you.

The moderator clears his throat, turning his nose up at Satoru, “Well, let us continue,” he turns to you, “you were saying, Doctor?”

Oh, a doctor.

He leans back in his chair, how was it you got so much hotter? If that was possible somehow.

“I was explaining our current understanding of Hawking radiation, the theoretical thermal black-body radiation that releases out a black hole and its theorized to cause black hole evaporation,” and yet as you spoke, he felt himself grow hot, a slight flush settling over his cheeks — he was right when he guessed astrophysics was your specialty. And he should have known you would have been an expert while he was at it — how could you not be? Even now your lips and tongue formed sentences he could only dream of making, and he did dream of your lips before.

“There are many unknowns about quantum fields and electromagnetism, especially regarding black holes in particular — one of the counters to electromagnetism—” the other speakers go on to interject and bristle at one another, but Satoru barely hears any of it all — too preoccupied with you.

You were far too pretty for your own good — how was no one else completely distracted, shifting in his seat as he carefully adjusted himself — and turned on.

“And now we open it up to the audience,”

The first few questions are fielded by the others and then the one of the last questions is for you. A person stands from the audience, fiddling with the question card they had in their hand, “when you were speaking about electromagneticism, you said there are many mysteries still — there is a theory called the law of attraction,” there’s a few distinct murmurs and even a few chuckles, but even so Satoru still finds himself looking at you, “they say the energy you put out into the world is electromagnetic waves, and when that interacts with the quantum field, which helps you attract what you’re looking for, what do you think of this theory?”

And for the first time, your eyes find his, the corner of your lips tugging upwards, before your gaze settles back on the audience.

“I don’t think there’s anything in physics that can explain what brings something or someone into your life,” you lean back in your chair, “if it were that simple, I think a lot more physicists wouldn’t be married to their labs,” Satoru snorts, and you garner a few chuckles from the audience, “but although all that stuff about quantum fields and electromagnetic waves isn’t rooted in physics, I think there’s something to figuring out what you want and letting yourself have it,” and he found your eyes on him again, and he wondered if he could let himself have you — even if he felt like he didn’t quite deserve you.

And his phone buzzed in his pocket, he glanced at the name and groaned — why was Ijichi calling him now? He lets it go to voicemail, but then messages come through.

Four-Eyed Annoyance: please reply. I have some news for you about the department head.

He bites his lip, but hauls himself to his feet, slipping out right as the panel wraps up. He presses the callback button and grumbles as Ijichi picks up, “this better be good or I’ll slap the shit out of you when I get back—“

“Huh?” Ijichi cried, aghast, “you told me to call once I had news,” and Satoru groaned.

“Just spit it out,” he sighed, rubbing his head.

“The department head said they would like to see you attend the mixer for professors in the department — a chance to meet you more informally — it’s the day after you return,” and Satoru scrubbed a hand down his face, and a chance to grill him about his failed research, “I thought you should know so you could prepare—“

He spots you disappearing around the corner, and hes curses under his breath, “Ijichi, you’re in for a serious slap later,” and the man doesn’t have time to react before Satoru cuts the phone. Great, not only was his career definitely in jeopardy, without a buffer to bullshit, but now — he rounds the corner, following after you, but in the throngs of people he doesn’t see you — he had lost you.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. Not that he really deserved you.

~~~

Satoru doesn’t see you for the rest of the day — he didn’t know how long he spent waiting for you at the bar, About how long it takes him for the bar to close his tab and the bartender to shoo him away, until he meanders back to his room. Were you upset? You had noticed he came in late and then he left before it was over—and now he hadn’t seen you. And he couldn’t even ask you because he hasn’t seen you and he doesn’t even have your number—

Because he was an idiot, who wanted to play coy, instead of being direct.

He strips off his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, a heavy sigh caught in his throat, as he tosses the button down onto the desk chair nearby, knocking over his bag and spilling papers onto the floor.

Great. Was this supposed to be some grand metaphor for his life? He knelt down to collect them, maybe he should call Suguru and have him give him some philosophy bullshit to make him feel better. He picked up something scrunched underneath the papers, and it was a napkin — but not just a used one.

Well not exactly.

One free pass to take what you want.

He snorts at your scrawled handwriting — for how perfect he thought you were, your handwriting certainly wasn’t.

He continues to pick up the rest of the things scattered on the ground until he finds the cover sheet for his research. Messy doodles littered the sheet — ones he had messily scratched in frustration — including one of his own face breathing fire.

He presses his hand to his lips, how was he going to turn this into something remotely useable? The basis of research was that most of it never leads to great revelations or huge discoveries — it was a domino effect of building upon other research and one study tips it over. And research was also about framing — about seeing what was there and making something of it.

He was flipping through his research — and he pauses at a particular page that had the tables of his research, the one he had ruminated over for nights and days, but now — it seemed far less daunting.

You do have a way of making me look at things from a different angle.

Your words fill his ear, as if you were there whispering it to him — a different angle. He pulls his laptop out and gathers the papers in his hands before he pockets the napkin you had written on.

Maybe that’s just what he needed.

~~~

You had avoided him.

It was so fucking embarrassing. What were you? A rejected teenager hiding from her crush? And you down another drink at the bar, the alcohol burning down your throat as if it could erode away the words you had said during the panel.

But it couldn’t.

It shouldn’t have happened. The moment the night before, with his lips a breath away that hung like a promise in the air — if magnetism existed between two people, it was in that moment — because you never felt so drawn to someone, as if there were actual magnets between you both. But as much as magnets attract, they could also repel just as well.

And you supposed, as you swirled the bits of your drink with your ice melting at the bottom of the glass, that was what had inspired him to run after your little show. You hated being a fool — but you hated not taking a risk more — you drank the rest of the watered-down drink before setting the glass down — so you had made the right decision.

So, why did you still feel like shit? You hiccuped slightly, the buzz now settling into a haze over your head, clear thoughts lost in a slight fog.

It might be the alcohol.

But even so you ordered another drink, pushing the empty one forward, avoiding the bartender’s dubious gaze. What was it about this man?

You didn’t know the first thing about him — aside from the fact he was a professor, just as you were, and his first name was Satoru—and fuck, you didn’t even catch his last name. But you knew how his lips curled into a smile that was far too infectious, that he was flippant to a fault but he only used it to hide his vulnerabilities, and that for someone so intelligent and knew of his own abilities — he found his own failures and shortcomings unforgivable.

But you wanted to forgive all the same — even now.

Even after not seeing him, and avoiding this very bar like the plague for the last day and a half. But now, it was the last night of the conference, and you don’t know what possessed you to be here — but you did — it was him.

“Come here often?” your eyes don’t need to look up from the drink placed in front of you by the bartender to know who it is, “let me have what she’s having,”

You raise an eyebrow, “This isn’t the fruity mocktail you prefer,” and he slips into the stool beside you, his arm brushing your own, as the bartender heaves a sigh at the sight of you two, “think you can handle it?”

“Well even if I can’t, I have you to take care of me, don’t I?” and you snort, licking the salt rim of your glass, before washing it down with the drink, “c’mon sweetheart, I thought you were opening yourself up to me,” and you choke on it, a distinct heat settling over your cheeks and it wasn’t from the liquor.

You choose your words carefully, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin, “I did, but that was before someone ran out,” and you wish your words significantly less slurred.

He bites his lip, “would you believe that it was a life threatening emergency and only I, Satoru—“ and you cut him off with a glare, and he sighs, “I’m sorry, I got tied up on a call and by the time I had finished, you were gone,”

“And here I thought my little soliloquy scared you off,” you mutter, “but a phone call? Was it a life threatening emergency?” The bartender comes with two drinks for the both of you.

“Not exactly, it was about my research. Found out my department head wants to meet with me right when I get back,” but his lips were curled in a smile, until he lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip, a grimace replacing it.

“You don’t seem like you’re dreading it anymore,” you sip your own drink, pressing the cool glass to your too-hot cheeks, alcohol roasting you from the inside out.

“Well, someone said I had a knack for looking at things from a unique angle,” he gives you a grin, “so I just did what I did best,”

“I see that ego of yours has recovered,” and his gaze catches yours, “I’m glad this conference was good for something at least,”

“I don’t think that’s all it was good for,” and your eyes can’t pull away from his — a current that sparked between your gazes that only wished to pull you closer than further apart, “you’re selling it short — moderated panels, the workshops, the stale coffee, the networking opportunities,” and his fingers brushed yours, “what’s not to love?”

And any sluggishness from your intoxication is chased away by his touch, a live wire pressed to your skin, “Networking?” You repeat, the warm brush of his fingers against your skin feather-like, “what chances have you had to network?”

He decides to down his drink, a flinch as he swallows, “Not many, well, not many that hadn’t ended without people glaring or fleeing,” you snort, but still liking his thumb rubs across the length of your knuckles, “but the ones that went well have been more than satisfactory,” your eyes flit to his hand and then to his lips, before settling to his gaze.

“And you’re satisfied? With the conference?” you add, and it’s a dangerous game to play, fingers curling around his as if by instinct, a current completed by its circuit, and you were needlessly addicted to the feeling.

He hums, in mock contemplation, as he leans closer, until your knees brush, “Not completely, but that’s because I don’t think I’ve taken what I want yet,” and he pulls a napkin from his pocket, handing it to you, and you see your words scribbled on there.

And you know it’s already far too late for you.

You’re close. Too close — as you can see the specks of dark blue that you could map like constellations in his eyes and you were sure his cologne was melting every brain cell that told you this was a bad idea, and leaving only behind need — but still you spoke.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the napkin, next words far too breathless for your own good, as if the spark between you had caught fire from your touch and sucked the oxygen from your little bubble — and you were just waiting for it to burst.

But it didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer, a breath away, fingers cupping your cheek, “can I?” And you nod nearly out of reflex, and he kisses you — despite the alcohol, you can taste the hint of sugar from the sweets he undoubtedly had before. It’s chaste and much too brief, but you two fall into a second as if it’s second nature.

“Well, are you going to take it?”

~~

“This is a such a fucking bad idea,” you manage to huff out right as the elevator doors close, but not before Satoru has you pressed to the mirrored wall of the elevator, “we shouldn’t do this—“

But all the same, your hand cupped his cheek, mapping the contours and curves of his jaw until it melted into his hairline, fingers running through his soft white locks with reverence, and his cheeks are flushed red, and even warmer than they look, “did one drink affect you this much?” you chuckle, and he pouts, drawing a full laugh from your lips, “oh this is definitely a bad idea,” not only because both of you were drunk, but he was far too cute to resist.

His eyes flutter close for a moment at the sensation of your touch, lips parted as he relished in your touch — and when had he been touched so softly before? Your noses bump, as the heat is engulfed in honey for a moment, caught between breaths.

“I have nothing but good ideas, Princess,” his nose brushes your cheek, as he inhales — fuck, how did you smell like everything sweet, even after a full day of conferences and two hours at a rundown hotel bar, “you may be my best one yet.”

“Flattery, Professor?” And his lips dare closer to yours again, as the elevator finally reached his floor, “you’ll have to do better than that,”

And as he steps forward out the elevator, fingers finding yours, he grins, cheeks warm from intoxication — and whether that’s the alcohol or you is a mystery. “Y’know I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart.”

You follow him out, as he leads you to his room, tugging you along as your lips curl, “Anything?”

He catches a glimpse at the wicked curve of your lips as you grin while he unlocks the door, that curve soon pressed against his neck, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to be pulled into your orbit — because there isn’t a thing you could do to repel him.

“This isn’t—“ Satoru bites his lip, as he watches you sink to your knees, a shaky gasp parting those same lips, spit slick from your kiss, as you dragged your thumb down the kiss-ruined flesh, “what I had in mind when you said anything,” his words are slurred, and you’re seeing the glow settle over his cheeks, making you only want to litter the red flush with kisses.

“I see why you don’t drink often if one drink does this to you,” your nose bumps against his, “we don’t have to do this if you’re—“

“I’m fine, I promise,” he cuts you off gently, his fingers closing around your wrist, before bringing your hand against his cheek, “I don’t want to stop, please,” and your thumb rubs along his cheekbone, “do you need me to solve an equation? Motion? Velocity? Force?”

You snort, your fingers ghosting over his jaw, “There’s something else I’d rather do,” and you undo the button of his slacks, “or someone,” and his lips curl — which only makes you want to wipe it off his face, until his lips are only parted with your name on his tongue.

You had stripped him down to his boxers, every button of his shirt undone painfully slow, as your fingers ghosted up and down every inch of exposed skin, “such a good boy, Satoru,” you had murmured, as you finally had reached the last button of his shirt, choosing to kiss your way up his stomach and chest — and fuck, it was hard enough not to blow his load then and there, “gonna make you feel good, baby,” your hand slid up his body, dragging over his chest, and onto his cheek until sliding into his hair again, tangling in the locks before you tugged, hard, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips and sending a wave of heat throbbing between his thighs, “but not before you earn it,”

You take a step back, his hands twitching as they reach for you, “Just watch,” You strip slowly, your jacket already tossed aside, as you undo the buttons of your blouse torturously slow, as your lips curl at the sight of his pout.

Muscles winded and tense like a spring ready to snap at your word, but you didn’t let him, and when you step out of your slacks, his boxers strained against his erection, a dark patch over taut pulled fabric, “look at you, I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already about to rip through your boxers?” You click your tongue.

And your careful steps back to the bed have him swallowing thickly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he watches you, “Please,” he’s murmuring, “please, baby,”

God, he looks too fucking pretty begging, and you were only that much sure he would look prettier with tears in those eyes of his, whimpers and moans parting those pretty pink lips.

“Please what?” you leaned closer, your knees pressing his legs apart, brushing against his inner thighs, teasingly close to where he wanted them most, “gonna have to use some of those big words you got your degrees with, Satoru,”

Your knee grazes his clothed bulge, “Fuck—“ your fingers find his undercut with ease, nails grazing the nape of his neck as you did, a delicious shiver running up his spine. He was so sensitive for all the bravado he had — for how intelligent he was, how high he held himself, it only took a few of your touches to reduce him to this.

And fuck, it was so hot.

“Not that word,” your hand draws up and down his thigh, tracing the muscle, before drawing a path over the elastic of his boxers, “tell me what you want — my fingers? My mouth?” Your fingers dip inside his boxers only to snap the fabric against his skin, earning a sharp hiss and a jerk of his hips.

His eyes flicker up to your lips, and you know what he wants, but you’re still waiting to hear the words, “your mouth,” and you tilt your head expectantly, “please,”

“Good boy,” you don’t miss the way his dick twitches at the praise, as your fingers tug his boxers down, pooling around his ankles. His cock slaps against his stomach, pretty precum dripping down his length — and how’s it possibly that his dick is as gorgeous as the rest of him? Pretty red tip that melted into a blush pink length, lovely veins that wrapped around as if it was made just for you. And you didn’t believe in the law of attraction — but you knew you’d welcome his dick inside you anytime.

You sink to your knees, and the sight must be pretty by the way his gaze grows dark, “Like the idea of me on my knees for you?”

“Can’t I like the idea of using that smart mouth for something other than a verbal lashing, sweetheart?” And your tongue darts out to lick the precum from his tweeting tip, making his head loll back.

“You can,” and your fingers ghost over his balls, “but don’t forget who’s in control, Satoru,”

You press a kiss to his slit, before letting the length slap on your tongue. And already his chest is already heaving, as your fingers curl around the base, slowly pumping and smearing precum along his dick. You hear the crumple of the sheets as he grasps at them.

“You’re so fucking big — can’t wait to feel you inside me, g’nna feel s’good,” and a pretty moan parts his lips, hips bucking into your touch, boneless nearly, as you watch his precum slip down your fingers and wrist, “does it feel that good?” your teasing only draws a pout to his lips that’s quickly fading into another moan as you thumb at his slit, making him whine, “so fucking whiny,” you goaded, but no snark can find it’s way from his lips.

“F-fuck, sweetheart, can you blame me?” And your lips curl, as his tip bumps against your lips, dragging precum along them, “you’re gonna be the death of me,”

“And you’d thank me for it,” and you finally let his cock slip past your lips, and his mouth falls open, muscles tense as he feels his length settle along your tongue, until it’s tracing up the bottom, flicking against the tip.

“F-fuck, baby, you take me so well,” and you do, so fuckinh pretty as your head bobs along his length, messily sucking and licking, cock growing impossibly larger, just as his tip grazes your throat, “shit, ngh,” and he’s threading his fingers into your locks, beginning to buck his hips so that his swollen tip bumps against your throat, even deeper.

His lewd groans send a wave of head straight to your needy core, and you can’t wait, a hand slipping up to grasp at his waist, but the other slips into your panties and your fingers brush against your drenched folds.

You’re a fucking vision when he glances down to watch his white pubes brush against your face, half spit and half pre dribbling from the corner of your mouth. He’s practically fucking your mouth at this point, tears slipping down your cheeks, he’s not sure if he’s drunk from the alcohol or from his cock anymore. And when he sees your fingers buried in your cunt, fucking yourself because sucking him off was too much—it was too late.

“F-fuck, not g’nna last much longer, need—“ but that only makes you suck around his length, letting his tip hit your throat, and his nails dig into your scalp, as he finally cums, hard, your name on his lips. Thick ropes of his cum paints your mouth, hot release burning down your throat. You swallow every drop, relishing in the soft groan of your name that leaves his lips, enough for you to hit your sweet spot with your three fingers stuffed in your cunt before cumming.

You’re panting around his cock nearly as you pull your mouth off, strings of spit and cum stick to your lips and his dick, as you hear the creak of the mattress as he lies back against the bed, probably too fucked out to think. And you’re getting to shaky feet after easing your fingers out, ready to have him taste your own juices. But no, you can’t.

He was too fucked out to be conscious.

“Satoru?” You asked slowly, but you were only met with soft snores and the easy rise and fall of his chest that told you he was asleep.

Well fuck.

~~~~

Satoru never drank. And it was for good reason.

He always felt shitty afterwards. Headaches, nausea, and body aches. And that didn’t account for the side effect that had afflicted him the most — regret. The events of the night flash through his mind, a slideshow movie of the worst kind as he shoots up in bed to find himself alone in bed. He glances around, rest of his body still frozen in place, as if he had stopped moving, you wouldn’t see him.

But no, you wouldn’t see anything — because you weren’t here.

Not a single sign of you. The bedside beside him empty, and no trace of your clothes left behind — you had left. His eyes flickered to the time, 10:00 AM, far too early this morning. But what had you expected? He scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks burning — especially when he had cum down your throat and then had thanked you for it by passing out like a virgin.

And still he woke up hard. He glared down at the erection tenting in the blanket, as if it was the reason for his own downfall, but it didn’t have the courtesy of falling down itself.

Oh, he was never going to live this down.

And then the phone rang, and his heart leaped, likely bumping against his ribcage, as he reached for the hotel phone, wondering if it could possibly be—

“Hello? Is this Mr. Gojo?” The receptionist asks.

No, of course. Perfect.

“Yes, this is him,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, this day could only get better, couldn’t it?

“I’m calling to remind you that you had selected the early check out time, and your check out time is in exactly an hour, and we are unable to extend it due to other guest check-ins,”

He shouldn’t have bothered to hope.

A frantic packing job and harried check out, he had slumped in his taxi to the train station. He didn’t even get your number. And he scoffs at the thought, like you’d give it to him after last night. He leans against the cool glass of the window, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to see you that night. Maybe it would have been better to stop. But the two of you were always in motion — night by night rushing by each other, and last night was no different.

But now you both are still in motion — just not together.

And maybe it was better that way. But if so, his eyes open to take in rushing outside, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

~~~

Satoru forgot how much he hated this department.

Satoru found himself sipping his drink by the makeshift bar again. He had waded through the questions of the other professors, wanting to know the details of his research. He saw the sharp gazes behind plastered smiles, and they were just hoping to learn something to tell the new department head. But he told them nothing, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass at their sour glances. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

And then he spots a familiar figure.

“Oi,” Ijichi tensed at the sound of Satoru’s voice, he makes his way to Satoru’s side, “I thought you said the department head would be here,”

“She’s on her way. She got stuck in a meeting. Haven’t you been checking your email?”

“Who checks their email when they’re away?”

And Ijichi mutters under his breath, “People who are actually responsible,”

Satoru glances at him, “That reminds me, didn’t I owe you a slap?” And Ijichi squeaks in terror, before he takes a step back, as his phone goes off.

“The department head is on her way now,” and Satoru raised an eyebrow.

“Her?” And Ijichi frowned.

“Have you really not checked your email the entire time you’ve been away? The new department head’s name was announced months ago, and she’s sent consistent emails, and Satoru runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ve had all department emails sent to spam,” and Ijichi gapes at him, as Satoru pulls his phone out and opens his spam folder, scrolling through the hundreds of unread emails, “what’s her name?”

And just then the doors open, and he wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’s back in that hotel room again and he would wake up any second beside you.

But he doesn’t, as your eyes find his, stepping through the crowd of other professors, as Ijichi steps forward, “Ma’am, this is—“

“I know,” you smile, before your eyes slide back to his, “come here often?”

And he knew he was far too deep already.

✧ a/n: this took so long to write — I thought I would be done last week but I was not haha. I hope you guys enjoy. there will be a part two! I have plotted out part of it. thank you guys for being so kind :)

✧ taglist: @dazailover1900, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @satorusmochis, @dreamtardisspace, @mixmatcheds, @kxouri, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @happystrawberrytyrant, @mynahx3, @destinyrosexoxoxo, @iwannaeatthewolrd, @parkeronii, @nanasukii28, @9419x, @5sos-wdw, @zeee26, @saintlesssaint, @forest-fruits-jam, @cowgirlcujoh, @somrou, @satowooo, @buddhas-bunny, @spider-fan72, @daintyfaintyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @nightfloweruponahill, @xxemmarldxx, @hanxyy, @caramelmac-chiato, @faeryli, @penutjuice, @waterfal-ling, @buttercupblu143, @ilikeweedalot, @amy-chaan, @johannakhalafalla, @alexithemiyatic, @theshylittleelfgirl, @kittykattysstuff, @shervinss, @catsgomurp, @notgoodforlife, @anth0nyx, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @fackeraccount, @fushitoru, @svt-backup, @suguwife, @mua-for-now,

[prokopetz]

I've touched briefly on the idea in the "System Crash" mod to Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat, but one of the perennial Inadvisable Game Ideas I keep coming back to is a GMless tabletop RPG where you play as a bunch of robots equipped with different sensors, and each player has GM-like authority to describe the world, but only with respect to what can be detected with the sensors their particular robot has.

It'd be set up so that no overlap would be permitted within the same group; if you were playing, for example, the robot with the camera, you'd be the only robot with a camera, and thus you'd be the only one who's allowed to describe what things look like. If you're playing as the robot with the microphone, you're the only one who's allowed to describe what things sound like. Include a whole bunch of senses off the human baseline while we're at it – everything from electromagnetic fields to chemicals sniffers to quantum bullshit – with guidelines and worked examples of what each one can potentially describe, divvy them up among the group, and make everybody cooperate to describe the world, one sense at a time. (The player characters communicate with each other wirelessly, so they can always talk to each other to relay what they sense regardless of what sensors they have.)

I have no idea at present how to actually make that into a playable game, but the possibility of it haunts me.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

takin’ what’s not yours (ford x reader x stan)

chapter 1

tags: pre portal, hurt/comfort, angst, Stan & Ford needs a hug, reader too, emotional manipulation, everyone needs therapy but that’s not happening, mystery trio dynamics if you squint, billford?? hmmm

author note: guys i swear this was supposed to be a shameless porn threesome fic, but then Ford and Stan showed up with a whole suitcase of unresolved issues im so sorry

“You’re gonna change the world, Ford.”

“Only if you’re there to see it.”

***

Backsmore University. What a fucking place.

It wasn’t just the old brick buildings or the ivy creeping up the sides. Not really. It was the people. The crazy mix of the smartest, weirdest people you could imagine. You were one of them, no doubt. An absolute nerd with a lab coat on 90% of the time, a mess of papers and equations in your backpack and a head full of ideas and knowledge. But unlike Ford, you weren’t shy about showing it. You thrived in it, honestly. Lectures? Boring as hell, but the energy in the halls? The potential of every single person you met? Yeah, you were there for it.

One of these was Ford Filbrick Pines.

The ultimate BMU enigma, the textbook definition of nerdy. For some reason, his persona always made you think he was hiding some secret genius-level insanity behind his weirdly serious face. 

You’d laugh about it with your friends, the way he avoided talking to anyone. Classic “genius who’s too good for people” type.

He was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Seriously, you could walk through the student lounge, see him hunched over a pile of research papers in the corner and just know you were witnessing something profound. He didn’t get what you were about at first.

You were funny, obnoxious even, always the first to crack a joke or make a ridiculous observation in class. Meanwhile Ford would just stare at you with those big eyes like he was trying to figure out if you were some kind of social experiment.

But then you started talking, typical nerds topics. About quantum physics, mathematics, about the mysteries of the universe, about everything. He’d scoff at how crazy your ideas were but then, just a second later, he'd be scribbling down some insane theory of his own that he wouldn’t even tell anyone else about. And you’d get it. You both would sit in the library, trading theories and arguing about the tiniest details of space-time.

You were the loud one, in Ford’s opinion, the one who could hold a conversation about quantum theory and drag Ford to a campus party all in the same breath. He’d grumble the whole way, saying it was a waste of time, rolling his eyes at your insistence that he needed a little break. He’d follow you through those sticky, badly lit student lounges, watching you laugh with people he’d probably never even look at twice.

These late nights when you’d drag him out to stargaze, pointing out constellations, half-naming stars you didn’t know, laughing when he’d shake his head, muttering about inaccurate astronomy. But he always went along with it, always ended up laying beside you on the grass, looking up at a sky he could never quite make sense of but was desperate to understand.

The graduation day. You clearly remember that one.

The sun was so bright you could barely keep your eyes open and everything felt like a dream. You had your cap crooked on your head (you were probably running late, as usual), your tassel swinging as you walked across the field, your friends beside you, shouting and celebrating like you were all in the fucking “after party of the year.” But then you turned and your eyes saw Ford, who was clutching that damn diploma like it was a golden ticket. He looked different somehow, like he’d finally unlocked a new version of himself. 

The Stanford Pines himself, recipient of Backsmore’s largest grant for his “eccentric” research, standing with his square academic cap, although it was comically slipping off his head. He looked out of place, like a scientist among a sea of partying students who could barely remember their names half the time.

So, you did what any good friend would do— you adjusted his cap for him, (plus you wanted an excuse to touch him), made some dumb joke about how he’d better not screw it up. He’d roll his eyes, but you knew he liked it. He needed it.

“Hey,” you grinned, “looking pretty fancy for someone who spends all their time talking to aliens or whatever.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve already got a date with a space-time continuum. But you can join if you want.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave.

***

Outside, the world has turned into a kind of cold, quiet hell. Snow falls in thick slow flakes, burying everything in a suffocating blanket of white. And Stan stands there, jacket pulled tight against his chest, staring up at the looming silhouette of his brother's house.

It's freezing, but Stan hardly feels the cold. Not really.

It’s quiet here, but it’s not peaceful. Silence feels heavy, like it’s watching him.

His thoughts are pulled back to a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant.

Ten years. Ten goddamn years. It’s been a decade since he's seen Ford’s face. Well, of course he doesn't expect Ford to look like something completely different, they’re twins after all. But at least now Stan knows what Ford would look like with a mullet.

Stanford was always the smart one, the golden kid, with big brains and hands that tinkered with mysteries beyond Stan’s understanding. And now. . . after all these years of silence, Ford finally decides he needs him. It’s a postcard, a single damn postcard, that drags Stan out of the muck and dumps him back here in this town, holding secrets and god knows what kind of twisted shit his brother’s got himself mixed up in.

After everything Ford did, after leaving, after barely even thinking to check in after all these years, Stan knows he shouldn't feel this way. But here he is. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping against hope, as if somehow, that tall figure would come striding down the snowy path, arms filled with books and that same serious look on his face. That same one he had as a kid when something big was on his mind. 

Stan shakes his head, letting out a breath that forms a small cloud in the icy air.

“Ten years, and you drag me here for what, Stanford?” he thinks.

Stan takes a deep breath, the cold seeps right down to his bones, but it’s not the winter’s chill that makes him shiver. His heart pounds as he stares at the weathered door in front of him, trying to shake off the surge of memories of the two of them, inseparable, back when they thought the world couldn’t touch them. But that was more than a lifetime ago.

He mutters to himself, “you haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. . . He won’t bite.” or at least Stan hopes so and then he knocks, half-heartedly, already bracing himself.

The door swings open with a sudden jolt. Before Stan can even greet him, Ford’s voice booms through the biting air. "WHO IS IT?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” his trembling hands grip a crossbow, pointed directly at Stan, and the first thing Stan notices are his brother’s eyes — wide and paranoid.

Stan looks at Ford, steps back a little, blinks, then blinks again. He tries to mask the pang of hurt as he lets out a shaky laugh, “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Ford lowers the weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and then, as if finally recognizing the person standing before him, he blurts, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Stan grumbles, but to his surprise, Ford grabs him by the clothes, yanking him roughly inside before he can even process it. "Ah!" he exclaims, stumbling forward, before the door slams shut behind them.

Ford, still skittish, shines a flashlight in Stan’s eyes, his fingers trembling as he holds it, blinding his brother. “What is this?!” Stan shoves the flashlight away.

Deep down, though, he tries to mask the pang that Ford’s mistrust strikes in him. What happened between you two? Mom would be so upset about their relationship. They used to share everything, trust each other without question, without even a word. Now here they are, stumbling through a reunion that feels like walking on broken glass.

"Sorry,” Stanford answers quickly, studying Stan’s face as if looking for lies hidden in his eyes. “I just had to make sure you weren’t. . . It’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

Stan follows him, the warmth he thought he’d feel upon seeing his brother slowly cooling into something he doesn’t want to admit that feels like disappointment. He watches Ford flit around the room, casting paranoid glances, clutching onto a battered old journal like it’s the only thing holding him together.

The shack is cluttered, papers scattered on the floor, strange devices cluttering the tables, books piled high. Wow, Stan thinks, the whole place screams my brother has been here alone too long.

It makes Stan's chest tighten.

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? you’re acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” he is trying to defuse the atmosphere somehow, to make contact, but inside, his heart aches. He missed Ford; he missed him like hell. And to finally be here, standing right next to him, only to find him. . . like this. Seriously? It’s almost too much to bear.

Ford, ignoring the gentle jab, clutches the journal tighter. “Listen, there isn’t much time. I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” he doesn’t meet Stan’s eyes as he glances at a skeleton in the corner, twisting its head away from him.

Stan’s heart drops. This is bad, worse than he thought.

He steps forward, placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a touch he hopes can somehow bridge the miles and years between them. “Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this through, okay?”

But Ford pulls back, a strange, paranoid look in his eyes. His fingers trace the spine of the journal as he glances at Stan. “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe.”

Stan's brow furrows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. What could it be? Some kind of super scientific bullshit that opens doors to parallel worlds? A time machine? A wormhole? Black hole made at home?

He looks at Ford, how the man hasn’t aged a day physically, but the exhaustion, the fear, the isolation, it all is painted on his brother’s face. It’s painful to see. It’s heartbreaking to think how Ford might have been living in this place, alone with nothing but his thoughts, trapped in his own world of mistakes and fears.

Stan manages a weak grin, masking his own fear for brothers sanity in his heart. "Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand."

That twist in your chest, that awful, prickling feeling that something’s wrong.

You’re curled up at your kitchen table, sipping your tea with that kind of numbness you get when you’ve been overthinking too much. You told yourself to back off. He needed space. He needed time.

But when Stan’s eyes scan the giant, hulking portal machine in front of him, he can’t hide the bewilderment as he adds, “There’s nothing about this I understand.”

Ford’s hand wrapped tight protective around his journal. It’s the only one left, his last remaining key to understanding, to protecting everything he’s worked for. 

But now Stan stands across from him and his face clearly shows something what can be called betrayal.

Ford’s been distant. Secretive, even. The last time you two spoke, it was tense, full of anger and words you didn’t mean. It shouldn’t matter, you tell yourself, but the thought of him out there, alone, is like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Ford tries to explain as if Stan would understand. “It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left. . . and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” he steps forward, holding the journal out to Stan, eyes pleading. “I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stan’s face shines with smile until he hears next shit his brother say. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

I should’ve just stayed, I shouldn’t have left.

Your fingers curl around the warm mug, but sadly the heat doing nothing to soothe the anxiety creeping up your throat.

You set it down on the counter, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just the storm, it’s just you being overdramatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

But the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle.

Something’s wrong.

“That’s it? You finally show your face after ten fucking years and all you’ve got to say is ‘get away’?”

Ford's hand drops and disappointment flashes across his face. “Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!”

“Oh, yeah?” Stan can't contain his emotions. How dare he?! “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! Three different prisons, Stanford! I’ve chewed my way out of a goddamn car trunk! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

With a sigh, you stand up, setting the mug down on the table as your dog, a sweet, eager little spaniel, looks up at you with wide, curious eyes.

Ford's temper snaps because he can't believe what the fuck his brother is talking about. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? You ruined my shot at a real life! At my dream school! And here I am, giving you a chance to do something meaningful and you still can’t get it through your head!”

You glance over at your dog, a scruffy, affectionate spaniel with big brown eyes who’s been staring at you from the corner of the room.

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You want this fucking book gone?” he yanks a lighter from his pocket, the flame flaring up as he flicks it. “Fine. I’ll get rid of it right fucking now.” he holds the journal over the flame, daring Ford to make a move.

You can’t shake this feeling, this urge to go find Ford, even if it means dragging yourself out into the goddamn blizzard.

“I’ll be back soon, girl,” you murmur, pulling on your coat. You don’t know what you’re looking for, don’t even know what you’re hoping to find. But you have to see him. You have to know

Ford’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “No!” he lunges for it, reaching out, but Stan yanks it back. “You don’t understand!” Ford shouts, desperation pouring through him.

But Stan takes a step back, holding the journal dangerously close to the flame. “You want me to take it? Well, then, I’ll decide what to do with it.”

“My research!” they jerk the book back and forth, playing a fucked up game of tug of war, their yells echoing through the lab as they struggle over it.

You can’t shake the feeling, it’s like something’s dragging you forward, pulling you toward him, toward the unknown.

It’s late and the woods are fucking silent, which is weird for Gravity Falls. You’ve been running for what feels like hours, your chest burning, your mind tangled in a mess of thoughts you can’t quite shake. Every goddamn thing with Ford lately has been a disaster, hasn’t it? One fight after another, with him shutting down, disappearing into his head like he’s always been known to do.

The last words you shared with him are still fresh in your mind, “this is it, okay?! I can’t do this anymore.” he didn’t even fight back, just. . . stared at you like you were the problem. Maybe you were the problem, you don’t know, but damn it, you cared. You couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. That’s why you’re out here, because you’re not about to let him get swallowed up by whatever the hell is going on in that messed-up head of his.

And now, here you are, halfway to his place with nothing but your gut telling you that whatever was going down at Ford’s place was way worse than you thought.

When you enter, you hear the kind of noise— angry, violent, something breaking and you know Ford’s involved, you just know it. You don’t care if you two haven’t spoken in days, if things between you and him are a mess of unsaid things and frustrated silences. He’s been acting so off, and now, hearing the absolute mayhem erupting inside, you’re terrified.

The sounds are loud, shouting voices, furniture crashing, angry grunts. Your heart fucking stops as you push the door open so fast it slams against the wall. You’re not thinking, not caring that maybe you shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to stop now.

At first, you think you've completely lost your mind, because you're seeing two Ford Pines. And then you think, either you're the one who's gone crazy, or Ford has, because he's literally fighting with himself.

But as you take a breath, both Fords turn to look at you, and that’s when it hits you: this isn’t just some bizarre mirror trick. There’s Ford and then there’s someone who looks a whole lot like him, but is definitely, absolutely not him.

“What the fuck is going on?” your voice rings out much louder than you meant, but you don’t care. Your heart is pounding way too hard and your feet are planted, legs shaking with adrenaline and worry. You’ve seen Ford in a mess of emotions, but never like this. Not this bad.

The second the door slams open, both of them freeze, but it’s the mulleted guy who speaks first. “So you got yourself a chick now, huh? Thought you were too busy playing goddamn Einstein to bother with things like that.” his angry eyes narrow at you, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or. . . jealousy? Frustration? You don’t have time to decode it.

This guy have absolutely the same features, same nose, same intense, serious brow, but his whole look is just rougher, like he’d been living a life Ford would never survive.

And your blood boils.

“No, fuck that,” you snap, glaring at mullet-man. “You don’t talk about me like that.” then you glance at Ford. “Ford, why the fuck didn’t you tell me about—”

but you get interrupted by Ford’s clone, Ford’s twin, whatever. “Name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. The brother of this genius. Bet he’s never even mentioned me, huh?”

Your stomach churns at the words. Fuck that, no way. This isn’t about you, this is about Ford.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” now you are shivering not only from the winter cold, but also from the absolute chaos of what is happening. You turn to Ford, eyes desperate, desperate to know, to understand, to find answers. “What’s going on? Where have you been? I couldn’t get ahold of you. You just. . . left. And I—” you stop yourself, biting your lip. This isn’t the time to scream at him for all the unanswered questions, for all the shit that’s been left hanging. Not yet.

Ford doesn’t seem to get it. His eyes flick between you and Stan like he’s trying to piece it together, but nothing adds up. "I don’t— what are you doing here? We— we said goodbye," his voice is strained, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No, Ford. You said goodbye! You fucking disappeared! I don’t even know why, and I— fuck, just explain yourself, okay?” you can’t keep the desperation out of your voice anymore.

Stan is watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he still doesn't look too pleased, but it's not just anger. Although you don't have time to deal with his point of view. You need answers. You need Ford to talk.

Ford opens his mouth to say something, but then the anger, the frustration, all of it just snaps. "I didn’t want you involved in this. . .  anyone involved. This, this thing with the portal, you wouldn’t understand—"

You don’t even let him finish. “Stop. Just stop, yeah? You don’t get to just disappear like that, Ford. I don’t care about the journal or the goddamn portal anymore. I care about you. Why the hell are you so fucking determined to push everyone away?”

Ford tries to get himself together, though he looks like he’s been caught with every secret he’s ever buried. “This— this doesn’t concern you, alright? Just— just leave, go, this is between me and him.”

Stan scoffs. “Oh, yeah, classy, Sixer. Let’s bring her in just to shove her right back out, huh? Really hitting your all-time high here.”

“Shut up,” his brother snaps.

But Stan’s just as stubborn, glaring right back. “No, I don’t think I will. Not when you’ve dragged some poor girl into this whole shitshow. Real nice, by the way, real nice! Does she even know what you’ve been up to, huh? All the crap you’re into?”

“I said shut up, Stanley. I shouldn’t have called you— God, I regret calling you! You’re just here to make things worse, like always.”

The words land harder than you thought they would. It's not like you didn’t know Ford could be an asshole, but hearing him say that directly to his brother hits a nerve, like a punch to the gut. 

You see Stan’s face change, his mouth drops open, his eyes so wide, like he’s been slapped across the face. He looks like he’s been gutted. It takes his breath away, because he didn't expect to hear this ten years later, and it's obvious that Ford's words hit him too deeply.

However, your own heart drop to your stomach too. Fuck. You didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they were tearing into each other or the fact that Ford could say something like that to his own brother. It’s too much, even for you. You want to scream at Ford, demand that he stop, that this isn’t helping anyone, but you’re paralyzed.

But Stan’s hurt turns into something else and he spits back, “You think I wanted this, Ford?! You think I wanted to be the fuck-up brother?! You’re the one who dragged me into this whole goddamn mess now. You asked me to come! You! So don’t go acting all high and mighty like I’m the one screwing your life up right now!”

And then, in that moment, everything goes to hell.

Before you know it, they’re back at each other’s throats. Ford lunges forward, grabbing the journal, but Stan’s not letting go, the damn thing passed back and forth between them like it’s a live wire, all anger and resentment boiled down to this one book as each of them trying to get a hand on it. 

You rush forward, hands outstretched to push them apart, anything to stop this from going too far, but in the heat of it all, Ford jerks back, elbow flying and you feel it land in your ribs, knocking the wind right out of you and it really fucking hurts. The pain shocks you so hard you gasp.

Ford’s eyes snap to you instantly, widening in horror. “Oh my god— I’m s-so sorry! are you alri—“ he reaches toward you, himself can’t believe he just did that to you, but he barely gets a word out before Stan’s fist slams into his jaw.

This time, Stan hits so hard, putting all his resentment into the punch that Ford stumbles dangerously close to the portal, which is buzzing. You watch in absolute horror as his body goes too close, the fucking thing flickering and humming like a beast about to devour him whole and for a heart-stopping second, Ford looks like he’s going to fall right in.

You’re out of your mind in an instant as you scramble to your feet, adrenaline spiking, crazy fear in your eyes. Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing Ford’s arm, pulling him back, using every ounce of strength you have to pull him back. “Ford, no! Get back!”

Stan’s standing there, frozen for a second, scared himself by how far he had come. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths and his face is fucking pale as he stares at his brother’s body half in portal, but the guilt is written all over Stan’s face. His bruised hand is still raised, like he wants to hit Ford again, but it’s shaking. Did he. . . did he just. . ? God, he didn’t mean—

“You!” you scream, still tugging Ford away from the edge, but the portal’s pulling like a magnet and you’re fighting with everything you have. “Help me, now!”

Snapped out of his daze, Stanley rushes over, grabbing Ford. You tug harder, your muscles screaming as Ford’s body gives a last push toward the rift, but finally, finally, together, you both heave him back, dragging him away from the portal and out of that damn pull. His feet hit solid ground and you both just collapse.

You’re gasping for breath, hands still fisted in Ford’s coat, both of you holding on like if you let go, he’ll slip right back toward that nightmare.

Ford’s breathing heavily, disoriented, his hands gripping your arms in fear. 

Stan’s still looking at Ford, his face torn up because he doesn’t know whether to say sorry, to yell or to just walk the fuck out to not ruin something else. There’s realisation in his eyes and, for the first time, Stanley is seeing what his anger’s capable of. That punch could’ve been the end of everything.

“Brother. . .” Stan’s voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

You don’t let him finish. “No, you didn’t mean to. None of you meant to,” you snap, but it’s not anger in your tone, it’s damn fear, panic, it’s this deep fucking worry. You turn to Ford. “But this shit needs to stop, okay? Right now. Please.”

The silence between you, Ford and Stan stretches out as if it’s some aftermath of a bomb going off. Ford’s still on the floor, breathing hard and it’s not the near-death experience that’s fucking him up, but the bitter realisation of what could have really happened if that damn portal had taken him in.

“So that’s it, huh? After ten goddamn years, this is how you treat me? Almost shove me into a portal like it’s nothing?”

Stan opens his mouth, but Ford isn’t letting him get a word in, he’s too riled up now, all that anger and pride churning in him, boiling over. “Do you even understand what could’ve happened? What you almost did? You haven’t changed one bit, Stanley. I should’ve known better. Should’ve known you’d just fuck everything up, again. Just like you did back then.” Ford’s voice sounds colder than the winter outside. “Remember the science fair, Stan? You destroyed my experiment because you were too fucking selfish to think about anyone but yourself. I could’ve had everything. You took that from me, my chance at West Coast Tech, my chance at anything and then you have the nerve to make me the villain?”

It hits Stan harder than any punch ever could. Stan doesn’t even blink, his whole body stiff, shoulders slump.

His mouth opens like he wants to fight back, but there’s no fight left in him, the words are stuck in his throat. He doesn’t say shit, trying to process everything at once. But there’s nothing to process. Ford’s right.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stan mutters, holding back tears. “I’m a fucking failure. I know that, Sixer. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

But then he does the one thing you didn’t think he would. He turns around, slow, defeated, too fucking tired to argue and fight anymore.

And just like that, he starts walking away. But deep inside Stanley is crying like a child, expecting Ford to stop him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he wishes Ford would care, at least once. 

You’re fucking shocked, feeling helpless rage and anger, heart pounding with confusion and disbelief. You thought. . . well, you don’t even know what you thought! That they’d hug it out? Have some big, tearful reunion? Not really! But this mess of accusations and bitterness and old scars is so fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.

Ford stands there, all silent, watching Stan’s back as he walks away, not moving an inch. The pride, the stubbornness, the wall he’s built around himself. Oh god, that guy is so fucking smart he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

You look back at Ford, at his rigid stance, he won’t even move, won’t even try to call Stan back. You can’t believe it and something snaps in you, something fierce and hot because you’re done with all this bullshit.

“You’re not even gonna ask him to stay? Fuck, what is wrong with you both?”

Ford’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. And it drives you insane, watching him cling to that pride, that goddamn logic of his that’s somehow more important than his own damn family. No fucking way is this ending like this. Not after everything you’ve just seen, not with Ford standing there like a goddamn statue, too proud or too blind or too stupid to do anything but let his brother walk out.

You storm past Ford, ignoring his surprised look as you push past him, practically running after Stan. “wait!” you shout. But Stan doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.

“Stan!”

“What?” he snaps at you.

You step closer. “You’re not leaving,” you say, staring him down like it’s a challenge.

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s better if I do. I don’t belong here.” he jerks his thumb back in Ford’s direction. “Pretty clear I’m not welcome.”

“Bullshit,” you respond, what makes Stanley raise an eyebrow, looking a little surprised at your bluntness. “I don’t care if he’s too proud to say it, but you’re his brother— I mean, you think this is how family’s supposed to be? You think he doesn’t want you here?”

“Look, kid, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Me ‘n’ Ford? We’re a lost cause. Always been. Ain’t no point in tryin' to fix it now.”

“Oh, come on! So you fuck up, he fucks up— you’re both disasters. That doesn’t mean you just give up. I don’t care if it’s been years or what the hell happened between you two. You don’t just fuckin’ quit on family. That’s not how this works.”

Stan’s mouth twitches and he looks like he’s gonna bite back with something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this tired sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t wanna hurt him more than I already have. I always mess things up. I’ll just make it worse. So what’s the point?”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration pounding through you. “The point is, you’re his brother! And if you don’t stay, if you don’t try to work this out, you’ll both regret it. You can’t just leave him to deal with this shit alone.” 

Stanley opens his mouth, ready to throw out another excuse, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stan,” you change the intonation to softer one, “I don’t know the whole story here. I don’t know what went down between you two and I’m sure as hell not saying it doesn’t hurt like hell. But this whole thing you guys are doing? Pushing each other away? It’s not gonna make anything better.“

“Fine, fine. But don’t expect me to be the hero, alright? I ain’t got no magic words to fix this shit.” Stan sighs and looks down like he’s too damn tired for this conversation.

When you and Stan make your way back inside, you see Ford still there with his back to you.

Stanley huffs out a laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “So, Sixer, when’d ya start collectin’ all this junk? don’t tell me you got a whole damn museum in here.”

Suddenly, Ford huffs a dry laugh that sounds a little bitter coming from someone like him. “Wouldn’t expect you to get it. Takes more than a few brain cells to appreciate real science.”

Stan’s smile falters, well, it was pretty rude, but he thinks he deserved it. You and Stan share a look, but before you can say anything, Stan just shrugs it off, letting out a forced chuckle, his voice trying to stay light. “Ha, yeah, same ol’ Ford. Ya always had a way with words, didn’t ya?”

There is only silence in response, but when you come a little closer, you finally take in the sight of Ford holding a goddamn crossbow.

Wait, what?

Your eyes go wide and the first thing that hits you is the cold sweat creeping up your spine.

Stan and you freeze. Confusion mixing with a little fear as you both look at Ford, What the hell is going on with him? Since when does Ford carry a crossbow around like it’s no big deal?

Stan raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, I dunno, take out some deer in the backyard?”

[artificial-transmutations]

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.

"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.

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.

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!"

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.

[nikasholistic]

You can quantum jump to a new reality at any time. All the possibilities, all the possible realities already exist in the infinite quantum field of potential. All you need to do is align your energy with the energy of the reality you want to experience.

The version of you living your dream life already exists. Connect to this version of you. Embody this version of you energetically. That’s how you shift realities. That’s how you step into your desired reality. Your energy creates your life. The higher and more aligned your energy, the more harmonious your entire reality.

[australianbeyonce]

𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒊’𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒛𝒂’𝒔 ‘𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇’

ch 1: the quantum you

we are part of a vast, invisible field of energy, which contains all possible realities and responds to our thoughts and feelings.

your thoughts have consequences so great that they create your reality.

we don’t have to settle for our present reality; we can create a new one, whenever we choose to.

your thoughts shape your destiny.

everything in your life is not solid matter—rather, it’s all fields of energy and frequency patterns of information.

energy responds to your mindful attention and becomes matter.

everything in our physical reality exists as pure potential.

if subatomic particles can exist in an infinite number of possible places simultaneously, we are potentially capable of collapsing into existence an infinite number of possible realities.

if you can imagine a future event in your life based on any one of your personal desires, that reality already exists as a possibility in the quantum field, waiting to be observed by you.

you are powerful enough to influence matter because at the most elementary level you are energy with a consciousness.

we don’t need to be touching or even in close proximity to any physical elements in the quantum field to affect or be affected by them.

the “you” that exists in a probable future is already connected to the “you” in this now.

when you hold clear focused thoughts about your purpose, accompanied by your passionate emotional engagement, you broadcast a stronger electromagnetic signal that pulls you toward a potential reality that matches what you want.

hold a clear intention of what you want, but leave the “how” details to the unpredictable and quantum field. let it orchestrate an event in your life in a way that is just right for you.

when you do create purposefully, request a sign from the quantum consciousness that you have made contact with it. dare to ask for synchronicities related to your specific desired outcomes. when you do, you are being bold enough to want to know that this consciousness is real and that it is aware of your efforts.

since the quantum field is nothing but immaterial probability, it is outside of space and time. as soon as we observe one of those infinite probabilities and give it material reality, it acquires those two characteristics.

chapters cont. below

ch 2: overcoming your environment

the subjective mind has an effect on the objective world.

an observer can affect the subatomic world and influence a specific event.

if you can influence your brain to change before you experience a desired future event, you will create the appropriate neural circuits that will enable you to behave in alignment with your intention before it becomes a reality in your life. through your own repeated mental rehearsal of a better way to think, act, or be, you will “install” the neural hardware needed to physiologically prepare you for the new event.

ch 3: overcoming your body

every potential already exists

when you have thoughtfully rehearsed a future reality until your brain has physically changed to look like it had the experience, you have emotionally embraced a new intention so many times that your body is altered to reflect that it has has the experience, hang on… because this is the moment the event finds you.

ch 4: overcoming time

in the present, all potentials exist simultaneously in the field. when we stay present, when we are “in the moment,” we can move beyond space and time, and we can make any one of those potentials a reality. when we are mired in the past, however, none of those new potentials exist.

if we focus on an intended future event and then plan how we will prepare or behave, there will be a moment when we are so clear and focused on that possible future that the thoughts we are thinking will begin to become the experience itself.

you have all the neurological machinery to transcend time.

ch 5: survival vs. creation

as our emotions become more elevated, we naturally ascend to a higher level of consciousness, closer to source… and feel more connected to universal intelligence.

when you’re living in the elevated emotion of creation, you feel so lifted that you would never try to analyze how or when a chosen destiny will arrive. you trust that it will happen because you have already experienced it.

do you it has already occurred in no space, no time, no place, from which all things material spring forth. you are in a state of knowingness; you can relax into the present and no longer live in survival.

to anticipate or analyze when, where, or how the event will occur will only cause you to return to your old identity.

ch 6: three brains: thinking to doing to being

it’s often useful to compare one’s brain to a computer, and it’s true that yours already has the hardware you’ll need to change your “self” and your life.

because you are thinking and feeling differently, you are changing reality.

you can’t think one way and feel another and expect anything in your life to change.

change your state of being… and change your reality.

choose a potential reality that you want, live it in your thoughts and feelings.

give thanks ahead of the actual event.

when your body experiences that the event is occurring in that moment and feels real to you, based solely on what you’re focused on mentally and feeling emotionally, then you are experiencing the future now.

ch 7: the gap

imagine how much good you could do by converting any destructive energy to productive energy. contemplate what you could accomplish if you weren’t focused on survival (a selfish emotion), but instead worked to create out of positive intentions (a selfless emotion).

ask yourself: what energy from past experiences (in the form of limited emotions) am i holding on to that reinforces my past identity and emotionally attaches me to my current circumstances? could i use this same energy and transform it into an elevated state from which to create a new and different outcome?

and do you know the funny thing about not wanting of lacking for anything? that’s when you can really begin to manifest things naturally.

ch 8: meditation, demystifying the mystical, and waves of your future

decide to stop being the old you

once that emotion is created you begin to feel like your new ideal, and that new feeling will start to become familiar. remember that when your body begins to respond as if the experience is already present reality, you will signal your genes in new ways… and your body will commence to change now, ahead of the physical event in your life.

[mysticstronomy]

IS TIME INFINITE IN BLACK HOLES??

Blog#365

Wednesday, January 10th, 2024.

Welcome back,

The singularity at the center of a black hole is the ultimate no man's land: a place where matter is compressed down to an infinitely tiny point, and all conceptions of time and space completely break down. And it doesn't really exist. Something has to replace the singularity, but we're not exactly sure what.

Let's explore some possibilities.

It could be that deep inside a black hole, matter doesn't get squished down to an infinitely tiny point. Instead, there could be a smallest possible configuration of matter, the tiniest possible pocket of volume.

This is called a Planck star, and it's a theoretical possibility envisioned by loop quantum gravity, which is itself a highly hypothetical proposal for creating a quantum version of gravity.

In the world of loop quantum gravity, space and time are quantized — the universe around us is composed of tiny discrete chunks, but at such an incredibly tiny scale that our movements appear smooth and continuous.

This theoretical chunkiness of space-time provides two benefits. One, it takes the dream of quantum mechanics to its ultimate conclusion, explaining gravity in a natural way.

And two, it makes it impossible for singularities to form inside black holes.

As matter squishes down under the immense gravitational weight of a collapsing star, it meets resistance. The discreteness of space-time prevents matter from reaching anything smaller than the Planck length (around 1.68 times 10^-35 meters). All the material that has ever fallen into the black hole gets compressed into a ball not much bigger than this.

Perfectly microscopic, but definitely not infinitely tiny.

This resistance to continued compression eventually forces the material to un-collapse (i.e., explode), making black holes only temporary objects. But because of the extreme time dilation effects around black holes, from our perspective in the outside universe it takes billions, even trillions, of years before they go boom. So we're all set for now.

Another attempt to eradicate the singularity — one that doesn't rely on untested theories of quantum gravity — is known as the gravastar. It's such a theoretical concept that my spell checker didn't even recognize the word.

The difference between a black hole and a gravastar is that, instead of a singularity, the gravastar is filled with dark energy. Dark energy is a substance that permeates space-time, causing it to expand outward. It sounds like sci-fi, but it's real: dark energy is currently in operation in the larger cosmos, causing our entire universe to accelerate in its expansion.

As matter falls onto a gravastar, it isn't able to actually penetrate the event horizon (due to all that dark energy on the inside) and therefore just hangs out on the surface. But outside that surface, gravastars look and act like normal black holes. (A black hole's event horizon is its point of no return — the boundary beyond which nothing, not even light, can escape.)

However, recent observations of merging black holes with gravitational wave detectors have potentially ruled out the existence of gravastars, because merging gravastars will give a different signal than merging black holes, and outfits like LIGO (the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) and Virgo are getting more and more examples by the day. While gravastars aren't exactly a no-go in our universe, they are definitely on thin ice.

Originally published https://www.space.com/

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, January 13th, 2024)

"JUPITER HAS A LARGE MAGNETIC FIELD THAN PREVIOUSLY EXPECTED??"

[emberdew]

Be More Ghost Chapter 2: I Love Ghost Hunting

Summary:

A Be More Chill AU where Danny gets a Super Quantum Intel Unit Processor (or Squip) to help him become cool and win over Valerie, but things don't really go as planned.

Masterpost | AO3 Link | Word Count: 1,746

I love ghost hunting because it’s the best! Because it is fun. I love ghost hunting and I get depressed whenever I’m done.

As Danny stood in the doorway, he immediately wanted to turn back. He thought the classroom was going to be empty, but it wasn’t. Valerie was right there in the front row.

“Uh, is this where we meet for the ghost hunting club?”

Valerie turned to face him. “No, this is the play rehearsal.”

Danny turned to go. Valerie called after him.

“Wait, I was kidding, yeah this is the ghost hunting club!”

Danny turned back to face her and nervously sat at the desk next to hers. “Oh, um, cool.”

Valerie smiled at him. “I’m kind of surprised to see you here, Danny.”

“Haha, yeah…” Danny didn’t really want to explain himself. This was a really bad idea. Just being near Valerie made all coherent thought leave his brain. He was shaking a little bit. Valerie noticed.

“Are you nervous?”

“What? No I’m just…” Danny shivered. “I’m just cold.” He rubbed his arms. He wasn’t lying, he did suddenly feel a lot colder. Was the AC broken in this room or something?

“Oh, well it’s okay if you are nervous,” Valerie said. “I’m a little nervous about coming to this club too, but mostly I’m excited.”

“Yeah?” Danny probably should have expected this. She was the Red Huntress, after all.

“Yeah, I love ghost hunting!” Valerie said. “I think it’s the best! I mean, it looks fun.” Valerie didn’t know that Danny knew that she was a ghost hunter, so she was still trying to cover her secret, at least a little bit.

Danny just nodded. He wasn’t sure how he should react right now.

“I’m just really passionate about it, since those ghost scum really need to be eliminated,” Valerie started to rant. Danny looked intently into her eyes, though he wasn’t really listening anymore. Even though her wrath happened to be directed his way, he couldn’t help but love how passionate she was.

“Oh, I think the club should be starting soon,” Valerie said, glancing at the clock above the classroom door.

“Where is everyone then?”

“I guess it might just be us two-”

The classroom door opened and all the A-Listers walked in, chatting loudly as they moved to their seats at the back of the classroom. Mr. Lancer arrived shortly after and stood next to the desk at the front of the room.

“Hello, welcome to Ghost Hunting Club… I’m glad some of you are taking the initiative for this extra credit opportunity.” Mr. Lancer seemed to be staring directly at Danny. He cringed a little bit and slid back in his seat.

“When do we get to hunt the ghosts?” Dash asked loudly from the back of the classroom.

Mr. Lancer crossed his arms. “Mr. Baxter, please wait until the end of my explanation for questions. This club is going to be more about ghost hunting research than field work, since that is best left to the experts.”

Danny saw that Valerie looked disappointed at that information. He tried not to show that he was relieved. Ghost hunting research was something he could probably manage. Maybe this extra credit stuff wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Lancer started pacing as he continued. “Your assignment will be to create an informative presentation about ghosts and ghost hunting that will be shown to your classmates in one month.”

Danny looked over to Valerie as Mr. Lancer explained what the club was going to do. At least she seemed excited. Danny didn’t feel great about potentially having to present anti-ghost propaganda.

A shiver ran down his back and a cloud of cold air escaped his mouth. Danny straightened up in his seat and looked around, but didn’t immediately see what had triggered his ghost sense. No immediate threats, but it would probably be good to go check-

Danny’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Valerie’s watch beeping. Her ghost sensor had picked up the ghost too. He and Valerie stood up at the same time. She glanced at Danny with a worried expression but he looked away and walked out of the classroom without saying anything. Valerie followed behind him.

Danny quickly walked around the corner out of Valerie’s sight and turned invisible before phasing through the door of a nearby storage closet. He heard her walk by as he took a second to wait before transforming and then flying outside.

“Hello, ghost child,” Skulker greeted as Phantom returned to tangibility few yards above the school’s roof. The large mechanical ghost was already pointing a missile at his face.

“Hey, Skulker. Got some new toys from Plasmius?” Phantom asked, whirling away as a missile launched a bit too close to his face for comfort.

Skulker just grinned in response as he fired more missiles. Phantom returned the fire with some of his own ecto-blasts in rapid succession. He was about to aim a blast right at Skulker’s head when a bolt of pain shot through the back of his left shoulder.

He turned and saw Valerie in her ghost hunting suit, floating on her board a few yards away from him. Smoke was still coming out of the gun she just hit him with.

Phantom waved with the arm she hadn’t just shot and gave her a smile. “Red! You’ve come to join the party?”

“You’re going down, Phantom!” The huntress glared at him through her red helmet, not lowering her gun from his direction for a second. Phantom sighed and started dodging around both Skulker and Valerie’s attacks.

He knew she was dangerous and literally shooting at him, but he still thought Valerie looked beautiful as she dove through the air on her hoverboard. Something was probably wrong with him. He felt one of Skulker’s missiles graze his leg as he took a second too long to fully dodge. He shook his head and tried to focus.

“Time to become ghost toast, Skulker!” Phantom charged a bigger blast in his hands and fired at the ghost’s neck. As he’d hoped, the strength of the hit was enough to knock Skulker’s mechanical head off his body, leaving the tiny green blob ghost plummeting to the ground.

With one smooth motion, Phantom grabbed his thermos from where it was attached to his belt, uncapped it, and sucked Skulker in before he hit the ground.

“Got him!” Phantom rattled the now-occupied thermos and then turned to look for Valerie. He winced when he felt the gun touching his forehead.

“And I’ve got you.” Valerie sneered at him. He gulped.

“I… kind of have something I need to get back to, think we can reschedule this?” He grimaced as the gun poked harder into his head.

“I don’t think so, ghost. I’m enjoying this too much to leave now.”

Phantom had to admit she wasn’t kidding earlier when she said she loved ghost hunting. She did seem to like it a lot and was also very good at it. Almost too good at it.

He heard the gun whine as Valerie tensed her finger on the trigger. He had to do something soon!

With a jerky flail, he grabbed the gun and whacked it away from his face and the shot blasted right next to his ear, hitting a tree behind him. He turned invisible and flew at top speed back into the school and into his familiar storage closet.

He sunk to the ground, panting as rings of light appeared from his waist and swept over his body.

“That was too close,” Danny muttered as he checked for any new injuries. Luckily, he had gotten through that fight without too much damage. He rubbed at his sore shoulder, then opened the closet door and started making his way back to the ghost hunting club.

Mr. Lancer didn’t acknowledge him as he walked back to his seat. A few minutes later, Valerie entered the classroom and took her seat again too.

“And that is it for this session. Start doing some ghost hunting research to get ideas about what you’re going to present!” Mr. Lancer concluded the meeting and walked out the door.

Danny grabbed his bag from the floor. He turned to Valerie, hoping to start another conversation with her but was surprised to see Dash standing in front of her desk. Valerie seemed surprised too.

“Hey, Valerie.” Dash seemed almost nervous. Why would Dash be nervous talking to Valerie?

“Baxter? What do you want?” Valerie put her hands on her hips.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for how you got kicked out of the A-Listers. It’s super not cool that happened to you just because your dad lost his job.”

“Why are you apologizing now? That happened last year, Dash.” Valerie glared at him. He seemed to quiver under her harsh stare. Danny thought Dash was probably feeling the same intimidation he felt when she pointed her gun at him earlier. Man, she was so beautiful when she was angry.

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to say it now. I think you’re still A-Lister material,” Dash adjusted his letterman jacket, “and I think it’s cool you’re in the ghost hunting club.”

“Really? I didn’t know you were interested in ghost hunting. I assumed all the A-Listers were here for the extra credit or something.”

“No, I am interested. I think it’s cool. Anyway, cya later Valerie.”

“Bye Dash.” Valerie waved and started gathering her things. She had a thoughtful expression on her face.

Suddenly a spike of pain seared his injured shoulder as Dash punched his arm. Danny gasped and turned to look at the bully.

“Hey, Fenturd, someone wrote ‘BOYF’ on your backpack,” Dash said and left the classroom, the other A-Listers trailing behind him.

Danny gritted his teeth and rubbed his shoulder. How did Dash always accidentally aggravate his injuries? Well, at least with the A-Listers gone, maybe he had a chance to talk to Valerie again. He looked back to where she had been but saw she was pretty much already out the door.

Right before she left the room, she turned back to where Danny was still standing by his desk and waved.

“Cya, Danny.”

“Oh, uh, bye.” Danny waved back weakly with his good arm. Valerie smiled at him and left.

Alone in the classroom, Danny got up and started to leave.

“I guess that could have gone worse,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself.

[karanseraph]

Where are Cybertron's 'hot spots'?

The hot spot/sparkfield phenomenon is pretty much just IDW1 continuity. But I like it, because it's kinda cabbage patch and those toys were there with Transformers making parents crazy to find holiday gifts.

But where are they?

The 12 named spots are NOT including those on the Moons or within any Titans, but are across Cybertron's surface. they are, apparently:

Rivet's Field

Vespertine Blue

Port Residua

Pious Pools

Vauvaire

Sansaw Sanserre

Automica

Warrior's Gate

Eugenesis

Alyon

Mesmerica

Nova Point

If Nova Point = Nova Peak then that means RIvet's Field, Vespertine Blue, Port Residua AND Nova Point are all in some proximity to Iacon.

In a fic, I added a thirteenth spot/field called Quadrivia Quaaltagh which was associated with the Quintesson occupation AND Quantum Drive development and near Unitrex. That's headcanon, of course.

But did we get any notes about where they might be?

I'm at the point where I need to headcanon it, similar to how I headcanoned the map of Cybertron, so that my fic can be internally consistent when bots give each other directions or say where they are from.

Rivet's Field - sounds like Ebbets Field, so it must be the Brooklyn of Cybertron, which is also, apparently, near Iacon. They play some sport in that area.

Vespertine Blue - Dusky, evening Blue. I'm guessing north-east-ish or maybe east of Iacon where the first stars could be seen in a darkling sky. On my map it would also be near Uraya.

Port Residua - Remaining Port? Left Residue? Does Port imply a sea or the left? Our left looking at the map or like stage left? On my Cybertron, this would put it south-east-is of Iacon, north of Nyon (space Paris), on coast of the gaseous Argon Sea. Probably the coastal area has some kind of deposits or residue or withstands something over time.

Pious Pools - near some pools, presumably, as well as canals, apparently, but I don't know where.

Vauvaire - I feel like this is space Riviera, like Vauvert maybe and thus must be near Vos, which is also, basically, space French Riviera and that it is located in a place of wells, like the brecciated terrain of Cybertron's southern hemisphere.

Sansaw Sanserre - I suspect this is near Stanix. Though Stanix is probably the Stanwix of Cybertron (from the ancient terms for strong walls, with Fort Scyk nearby) it also came to be a region for energon wine according to (Ask) Vector Prime, and since Sancerre is a French wine region, Sansaw Sanserre must by near a Cybertronian wine region like Stanix. (My notes also say Shrewsbury for some reason?)

Automica - I'm not sure about this one.

Warrior's Gate - I put this near Tarn because I imagine it references Tarn-Hauser Gate, which itself references Tannhäuser Gate.

Eugenesis - Not sure about this one. Probably very fertile, though.

Alyon - mountains are seen in the distance when it is illustrated, so it could be in Cybertron's Eastern hemisphere situated between manganese mountains and Sonic Canyons, OR it might be in the Western Hemisphere the other side of those mountains, which on my map would put it either near Crystal City or an uninhabited part of the vast Acid Wastes. I'm guessing latter?

Mesmerica - I see that 'Merica, but I also have to think this related to mesmerizing, and that Mesmerica is near a location known for dark science and wizardry where Mindwipe or someone might be and so I suspect this could be near Kalis, but also potentially near Crystal City if Science went wrong. On my Cybertron, Kalis is within the Mithril Sea, though, so maybe Mesmerica is mes- in the intermediate location between Crystal City and Kalis on the Mithril Sea coast.

Nova Point - If Nova Point and Nova Peak are related locations, then this hot spot is ALSO near Iacon, probably west of Iacon, near Nova Cronum as well, like maybe there's a bridge or highway in the area that has views of this sparkfield as one drives into Iacon.

Ideas?

[zvaigzdelasas]

There’s little doubt that the American government has decided to slow China’s economic rise, most notably in the fields of technological development. To be sure, the Biden administration denies that these are its goals. Janet Yellen said on April 20, “China’s economic growth need not be incompatible with U.S. economic leadership. The United States remains the most dynamic and prosperous economy in the world. We have no reason to fear healthy economic competition with any country.” And Jake Sullivan said on April 27, “Our export controls will remain narrowly focused on technology that could tilt the military balance. We are simply ensuring that U.S. and allied technology is not used against us.”

Yet, in its deeds, the Biden administration has shown that its vision extends beyond those modest goals. It has not reversed the trade tariffs Donald Trump imposed in 2018 on China, even though presidential candidate Joe Biden criticized them in July 2019, saying: “President Trump may think he’s being tough on China. All that he’s delivered as a consequence of that is American farmers, manufacturers and consumers losing and paying more.” Instead, the Biden administration has tried to increase the pressure on China by banning the export of chips, semiconductor equipment, and selected software.

It has also persuaded its allies, like the Netherlands and Japan, to follow suit. More recently, on Aug. 9, the Biden administration issued an executive order prohibiting American investments in China involving “sensitive technologies and products in the semiconductors and microelectronics, quantum information technologies, and artificial intelligence sectors” which “pose a particularly acute national security threat because of their potential to significantly advance the military, intelligence, surveillance, or cyber-enabled capabilities” of China.

All these actions confirm that the American government is trying to stop China’s growth. Yet, the big question is whether America can succeed in this campaign—and the answer is probably not. Fortunately, it is not too late for the United States to reorient its China policy toward an approach that would better serve Americans—and the rest of the world.[...]

Since the creation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, several efforts have been made to limit China’s access to or stop its development in various critical technologies, including nuclear weapons, space, satellite communication, GPS, semiconductors, supercomputers, and artificial intelligence. The United States has also tried to curb China’s market dominance in 5G, commercial drones, and electric vehicles (EVs). Throughout history, unilateral or extraterritorial enforcement efforts to curtail China’s technological rise have failed and, in the current context, are creating irreparable damage to long-standing U.S. geopolitical partnerships. In 1993 the Clinton administration tried to restrict China’s access to satellite technology. Today, China has some 540 satellites in space and is launching a competitor to Starlink.

When America restricted China’s access to its geospatial data system in 1999, China simply built its own parallel BeiDou Global Navigation Satellite System (GNSS) system in one of the first waves of major technological decoupling. In some measures, BeiDou is today better than GPS. It is the largest GNSS in the world, with 45 satellites to GPS’s 31, and is thus able to provide more signals in most global capitals. It is supported by 120 ground stations, resulting in greater accuracy, and has more advanced signal features, such as two-way messaging[...]

American measures to deprive China access to the most advanced chips could even damage America’s large chip-making companies more than it hurts China. China is the largest consumer of semiconductors in the world. Over the past ten years, China has been importing massive amounts of chips from American companies. According to the US Chamber of Commerce, China-based firms imported $70.5 billion worth of semiconductors from American firms in 2019, representing approximately 37 percent of these companies’ global sales. Some American companies, like Qorvo, Texas Instruments, and Broadcom, derive about half of their revenues from China. 60 percent of Qualcomm’s revenues, a quarter of Intel’s revenues, and a fifth of Nvidia’s sales are from the Chinese market. It’s no wonder that the CEOs of these three companies recently went to Washington to warn that U.S. industry leadership could be harmed by the export controls. American firms will also be hurt by retaliatory actions from China, such as China’s May ban on chips from US-based Micron Technology. China accounts for over 25 percent of Micron’s sales.[...]

The U.S. Semiconductor Industry Association released a statement on July 17, saying that Washington’s repeated steps “to impose overly broad, ambiguous, and at times unilateral restrictions risk diminishing the U.S. semiconductor industry’s competitiveness, disrupting supply chains, causing significant market uncertainty, and prompting continued escalatory retaliation by China,” and called on the Biden administration not to implement further restrictions without more extensive engagement with semiconductor industry representatives and experts.

The Chips Act cannot subsidize the American semiconductor industry indefinitely, and there is no other global demand base to replace China. Other chip producing nations will inevitably break ranks and sell to China (as they have historically) and the American actions will be for naught. And, in banning the export of chips and other core inputs to China, America handed China its war plan years ahead of the battle. China is being goaded into building self-sufficiency far earlier than they would have otherwise. Prior to the ZTE and Huawei components bans, China was content to continue purchasing American chips and focusing on the front-end hardware. Peter Wennink, the CEO of ASML, stated that China is already leading in key applications and demand for semiconductors. Wennink wrote, “The roll-out of the telecommunication infrastructure, battery technology, that’s the sweet spot of mid-critical and mature semiconductors, and that’s where China without any exception is leading.”[...]

Former State Department official Susan Thornton, who oversaw the study as director of the Forum on Asia-Pacific Security at NCAFP, said: “This audit of U.S.-China diplomacy shows that we can make progress through negotiations and that China follows through on its commitments. The notion that engagement with China did not benefit the U.S. is just not accurate.”[...]

One fundamental problem is that domestic politics in America are forcing American policymakers to take strident stands against China instead of pragmatic positions. For instance, sanctions preventing the Chinese Defense Minister, Li Shangfu, from traveling to the United States are standing in the way of U.S.-China defense dialogues to prevent military accidents.

19 Sep 23

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Room-temperature nonreciprocal Hall effect could heat up future technology development

An old physical phenomenon known as the Hall effect has revealed some new tricks, according to a team co-led by researchers at Penn State and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). They have reported their findings, which they said have potential implications for understanding the fundamental physics of quantum materials and developing applied technologies such as quantum communication and harvesting energy via radio frequencies in Nature Materials. The conventional Hall effect occurs only in electrical conductors or semiconductors in the presence of a magnetic field. It is characterized by a newly formed voltage, called the Hall voltage, that can be measured perpendicularly to the current and is directly proportional to the applied current.

Read more.

[bharv]

So my theory for modern Gale being somebody who does pure maths or quantum physics or chemistry really is just leaning into what I know lol but in my early days of living in London I went on a lot of dates with academics and one thing I loved is observing how the high-concept STEM field people thought of maths and science.

I am, as I profess often, somebody who knows they are only middlingly smart, but the sexiest thing to me is how people engage in the world and ideas in the world. I love smart people, and above that I love curious people, and the cool thing about people that study any of those three fields is they are concerned primarily in the creative theory around numbers, molecules, atoms etc.

It's not about what's known, it's about what's beyond what we can know. Theoretical numbers, what happens beyond our understanding of what is physically possible, how we can use visual technology to create artistic renderings of the theory of inorganic molecular magnetism, that kind of thing. And that to me is so analogous to Gale and his theoretic waxing around the Weave and its potential! He is constantly fascinated by what the further magical potential beyond what we know is possible might be, and that to me takes him right into those fields.

Music, literature, and philosophy are his hobbies. The potential of the world beyond worlds? That's his study.

[la2yn0va]

Blue lock and Sonic characters and their HSR gameplay style.

Isagi Yoichi:

5-Star Quantum—Erudition

Basic attack: A kick to a single enemy that then causes a small explosion, damaging the targeted enemy and adjacent enemies.

Skill attack: using meta vision, Isagi lowers every enemies attack power, then sends a powerful attack to all enemies with multiple powerful kicks.

Technique: Before battle, Isagi can use his meta vision to lower the enemies attack permanently! He also adds a permanent element weakness based on who’s the DPS of the team!

Talent: If 3 enemies are debuffed after isagis attack, he will restore 30 extra Energy, while his teammates gain a an energy regeneration buff for 3 turns! This effect can stack twice.

Ultimate: Isagi uses his meta vision to its fullest potential! Adding a permanent attack debuff to all enemies along with the incoming waves! He will then verbally assault the enemies adding a taunt effect before slamming a soccer ball so hard it bounces to every enemy at least twice before exploding!! While the taunted enemies attack Isagi, he will continue to add debuffs to the ones who attack him. This last 4 turns.

Rin Itoshi:

5-Star Physical—Destruction

Basic Attack: Rin kicks a soccer ball into the face of a single enemy, causing massive damage

Skill Attack: Rin kicks a soccer ball that explodes upon contact, causing damage to the targeted enemy and adjacent ones.

Technique: Before battle, Rin can activate his technique, causing a taunt effect on the enemies. Rin will also gain a speed and attack buff before proceeding to destroy his enemies.

Talent: After gaining 6 stacks of ‘Destroyed Dreams’ Rin activates his destruction eyes, causing massive damage to ALL enemies.

Ultimate: Rin activates his eyes of destruction. Causing his action to advance forward 120%. All enemies will attack Rin and he will proceed to counter all attacks while destroying the enemies defense permanently. After all enemies attack, Rin will let out a massive attack, causing a base damage of 100k to all enemies. If only one enemy is one the field the base damage increases to 500k.

Oliver Aiku:

5 Star Imaginary—Preservation

Basic Attack: Aiku attacks one enemy with two basic punches before suplexing the enemy to the ground.

Skill Attack: Aiku will put up a shield on himself, when enemies attack him he adds 500 shields to his teammates.

Technique: Before a battle Aiku will add 250 shield to himself and his teammates, and gaining 3 stacks of ‘Cops n’ Robbers’

Talent: When Aiku gains 12 stacks of ‘Cops n’ Robbers’ Aiku will completely destroy the enemies attack power and add 800 shields to himself and teammates. Oliver will also jump infront of attacks meant for his teammates, taking all attacks for 3 turns.

Ultimate: Aiku will add a full bar of shields to himself and teammates while blocking the enemies attacks and redirecting them back at the enemies.

Bachira Meguru

5 Star Wind—Hunt

Basic Attack: Bachira will speed around a singular enemy and kick three soccer balls into them.

Skill Attack: Bachira attacks the enemy with multiple soccer balls, kicking the balls to the enemies legs, gut, chest, then ending with a kick to the face.

Technique: Bachira will increase his own speed and his allies attack before a battle. This can be stacked three times.

Talent: Bachira will has a 50% base chance to send a FuA to an enemy with the highest heath and/or attack power once the enemy is attacked.

Ultimate: Bachira will awaken his monster and send multiple speedy yet powerful attacks to a singular enemy. Once finished Bachira’s talent will increase to a 120% base chance for 5 turns.

Nagi Seishiro

5 Star Ice—Nihility

Basic Attack: Nagi sends a soccer ball into the face of a single enemy

Skill Attack: Nagi kicks a ball to every enemy, adding a slow debuff to every enemy.

Technique: Nagi adds an ice weakness and defense weakness to all enemies before battle.

Talent: after 3 turns Nagi will switch paths and follow the path of the hunt. Nagi will be hard set on the enemy whom attacked him and send multiple soccer balls of ice into the targeted enemy.

Ultimate: Nagi seishiro will become motivated, upping his stats to become the strongest on the field. He attacks all enemies and inputs a freeze and attack debuff to every enemy. Nagi will follow the path of the hunt once ultimate is finished, charging his attacks to become more aggressive and powerful.

Sonic

5 Star Wind—The Hunt

Basic Attack: Sonic attacks a single enemy with his famous dash attack, spinning into the enemy and have a 25% fixed chance to add wind shear.

Skill Attack: Sonic spins around the targeted enemy, causing a tornado attack and adding both wind shear and daze debuff on the enemy for 3 turns.

Technique: Before battle, Sonic will taunt the enemy causing all enemies to attack Sonic, but when they attack Sonic will dodge their attacks and counter with a much stronger attack. This last for 3 turns and enemies will continue to attack Sonic until they hit him once making the taunt disappear.

Talent: Sonic has a 25% chance to send a FuA when teamed up with characters not from his universe. 50% chance when teamed up with one person, 75% with two, and 100% chance when in a team full of Sonic characters.

Sonic also has different FuA’s with different characters. For shadow, him and Sonic will barrage the enemy with high speed attacks.

For knuckles, he will start with an uppercut, then Sonic will respond with an axe kick from the sky, slamming the enemy into the ground and making them bounce up long enough for Sonic to hit the ground. Sonic then charges a punch with his speed and knuckles coats his fist with fire/chaos energy before both slamming their fist into the enemy.

Tails will simply blast the enemy while Sonic attacks them. Eggman will do the same, however he’ll be aiming for Sonic, who’ll dodge all the blast while attacking the enemy, ending the FuA by taunting Eggman.

Ultimate: Sonic attacks all enemies in his super sonic form! Flying at light speed he attacks every enemy before ending with a colossal chaos blast, damaging all enemies.

Shadow

5 Star Imaginary—Erudition

Basic Attack: For shadows basic he attacks three enemies by moving at lightspeed, ending by blasting the enemies with the fire from his air shoes.

Skill Attack: For his skill, shadow jumps in the air and sends multiple large chaos spears to every enemy, ending with an explosion.

Technique: before battle, shadow can summon one of the seven chaos emeralds, causing different effects for himself, allies, and enemies.

The green will up his speed majorly and his allies.

The blue will allow himself and teammates to counter attacks for 2 turns

The white will cause a confusion debuff for enemies, making them attack themselves and their allies for 3 turns.

The yellow will add a full bar of shields for himself and allies.

The red will cause a taunt effect on enemies for 1 turn. Enemies who attack shadow will multiple his attack power by 4. Once all enemies attack shadow he will release a chaos blast on all enemies with 250% crit damage.

The cyan will cause a basic freeze effect on enemies and will back shadow invulnerable for 3 whole turns.

The purple will cause shadow and his allies to gain 100% energy regeneration rate for the entire battle.

Talent: when shadow’s health reaches below 50% he will gain a random chaos emerald effect permanently. This will disappear once he is healed above 50% or is knocked down.

Ultimate: Shadow removes his inhibitor rings before releasing a large chaos blast, then using chaos control to teleport all enemies into space and look up to be attacked by the Space Colony Ark’s laser until they reach the planet below and the attack ends with a final explosion. (Call me Micheal fucking Bay) causing the enemy burn and imprisonment.

Knuckles

5 Star Fire—The Hunt

Basic Attacks: Knuckes attacks one enemy with two jabs then an uppercut so hard he causes the air molecules to explode

Skill Attack: Knuckles gains an attack buff from the master emerald—then attacking the enemy and decreasing their speed and de-advancing them to the bottom of the turn. This attack buff stacks three times and last for 5 turns

Technique: Before battle, Knuckles will become more aware of his surroundings to protect the master emerald. This allows him to send counter attacks for the whole battle.

Talent: After getting 7 stacks of ‘Chaos’ knuckles will enter into his Hyper Knuckles form for 7 turns. When in this form knuckles defense will be lowered completely but his attack and speed will increase 6x, and he will attack ever enemy on the battle field.

Ultimate: Knuckles will attack everyone with his ultimate. Landing infront of the master emerald and vowing to protect it. Only for Eggman to steal it and cause angel island to crash into the enemies.

Tails

5 Star Quantum—Harmony

Basic Attack: Tails sends a ring bullet into a single enemy.

Skill attack: Tails attacks three enemies, spinning his tails so fast he cuts their bodies causing a wind shear and bleeding debuff.

Technique: Tails will up all his allies defense, attack, speed, and ERR for 3 turns.

Talent: When tails is teamed with sonic, he will change his battle style to support his allies attack, when tails is paired with knuckles he will support his allies defense. When teamed with both he will add a chaos emerald effect from shadows technique. This will last for 3 turns.

Ultimate: Tails will use the power of the chaos emeralds to recover all skill points and allowing allies to use their skills without consuming any skill points for 2 whole turns.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik Eggman

5 Star Quantum—Destruction

Basic attack: Eggman will send a blast and punch from his mecha. Attacking one enemy with a punch and three enemies with the blast.

Skill attack: Eggman will send multiple rockets to attack all enemies while adding a random debuff.

Technique: Before battle, Eggman will summon one of his many robots allowing for a 5th ally to enter the battle! Each robot follows a different path, but all will focus on adding as many debuffs as possible.

Talent: when Eggman is hit with a killing blow, he will revel a chaos emerald! Using it to swap his health with the enemies health and sending a comedically large boxing glove into the face of the enemy.

Ultimate: Using the stolen master emerald, Eggman will summon his most capable and deadly robot! Metal Sonic! With eggman’s genius he will use the master emerald to turn Neo Metal Sonic into SUPER Neo Metal Sonic! Before commanding the death of the enemies! Eggman will then be switched out for Super Neo Metal Sonic until the mechanical menace is defeated. Eggman will have also recovered all health and rid himself of all debuffs.

———

This was fun to make. What do yall think?

[entropy-the-cat]

Simple explanation for People Who Are Not Into Physics But Still Curious: In quantum mechanics, there's a problem things can't actually be measured. Instead you need to describe everything as a wave where the wave has x probability to end up in state A and y probability to end up in state B. When you find out which state the wave ends up in (upon observation), you reduce the function. So Wigner's friend is a thought experiment explaining this concept in the relatively early days of the field. Wigner goes to visit his friend who has The Wave-Particle™️, knocks on their door, friend exits and says "Oh hi, Wigner, wave just particled itself into state B" and so Wigner can update his math without personally observing the particle, someone did it for him. But there's a little problem. Enter Wigner's friend extended thought experiment. Wigner's friend will not always observe the same thing. And due to there being probabilities, the friend themselves has potentially observed both A and B before Wigner knocks on the door. Which is to say, the friend exists in the superposition of the probabilities and alternate results, just like the particle itself. And were this friend actually two friends observing the particle, maybe they wouldn't even see the same outcome. Tl:dr Quantum mechanics is whack In other words, friendpilled maxxvisitor Wigner is so done with his friend reporting different particle spins (+1 and -1) at the same time.