#quantum dice

[blgls]

【Q18量子預言】黑白子複製小匡DNA啟動生命！感情加溫直接KISS 發展人性與感情

[dicerolliball]

OH IF YOU'RE MAN ENOUGH GO ON AND TAKE THE SHOT!! MemoryFalls Dipper with the Quantum Destabilizer! Look at my boy go!

[blockbuster-stims]

biromantic, demisexual genderfluid sam beckett (she/they/he) 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9

[lesenbyan]

Today I (re)learned that "Schrödinger's cat" was Schrödinger making fun of a facet of quantum mechanics and suddenly realized why the experiment always seemed stupid

[gastricotv]

Discovery Zone | Pair A Dice

[falsegodcore]

IT GETS SO LONELY HERE; viktor x gn!reader, spiritual sequel to cutlery, domestic clingy yearner viktor, brief references to real scientists and artists, simple and sappy as usual. set before canon events and possibly non canon compliant but includes s2 spoilers. cw for internalised ableism in one paragraph. 5.8k words + crossposted on ao3 🙂‍↕️

small note to understand a three line exchange: while talking about quantum probabilities (in short, the concept that different outcomes of a quantum system can coexist until the system itself is observed or measured), einstein once said “god does not play dice with the universe” to voice his refusal of the theory. bohr replied to this with “einstein, stop telling god what to do” lol. written while listening to this on loop if you are curious

There is a short line that bends on the glass of the window he presses against when he waits for you. Sometimes his fingers trace it absently and he wonders how it even got there. You once guessed a past tenant dragged the metal tip of their bow compass on the surface – to jest, to get revenge on the Academy because of some strict professor, just to vandalise because they would get away with it. “Maybe leave a mark”, you had added. Viktor remembers not getting the appeal of leaving a small scratch on an old window for the sake of leaving a mark. When you had asked what he would call a meaningful mark, then, Viktor thought of the matching burn scars you both carry on the back of your left hands, the result of a careless experiment he carried late at night and that you had tried to stop, more lucid than he was, only to get hurt in the end. At least he knows his name is mentioned whenever people inquire about the taut skin. Viktor always hopes someone will ask you about him, because being teased by shared classmates isn’t enough. 

Sometimes he has to stop himself from dwelling in such thoughts. Viktor fears Piltover has made him greedy. Maybe he can’t remember the hunger of Zaun.

(It’s easier to blame the city than you.)

It’s wrong to say he presses against the window, Viktor thinks; he presses in a safe corner between a pillar that looks ridiculous in the minimalist architecture of your shared room and the window. The windowsill he sits on is warm, warm only because they fucked up the water pipes’ placing when constructing the building and your downstairs neighbor had a habit of taking long showers that left the spot warm as if soaked with sunlight. Why a water pipe passes right under a window, the two of you don’t know. 

Curling into the window gives Viktor a view of the Academy district in between his reflection, even if he tries to avoid his constant disheveled state – although Viktor always argues he has started to take more care of his appearance, suspiciously ever since you were introduced to him, years ago. But you have always looked at him more when his hair was a mess. He used to struggle to find the courage to duck his head and ask you to fix it for him with a playful tone – as playful as the nervous edge of the voice of a boy with a crush could be, anyways.

You never fixed much. Maybe moved some strands to the right side, twirl a few because ‘Your curls are cute,’ even if you both knew and know they’re not proper curls and just a result of his fidgety hands, never content unless they’re doing something. They’d be at peace around yours, Viktor thought. 

And still does – he thinks too much and doesn’t act enough, or at least not as much as he’d like. Doesn’t even bother to look like he isn’t having a crisis when he is thinking and you've told him more than once he’s very expressive, and you like him for it. ‘I don’t have to second guess’, you had said, even if it sounded more like a confession; as if you wanted to say you were tired of second guessing, and maybe that was why you seemed to hesitate when some people talked at you – not to you. Viktor is observant and can tell the difference. 

You don’t have to be observant to notice his clenched jaw or furrowed eyebrows or stares when he thinks or wants you. Viktor wishes he could be more subtle, but it’s hard to care when you offer palms and fingers without question, when you let him kiss the healing wound you carry because of him. Hard to keep himself from vomiting his heart out and offering it in exchange for a kiss.

(He begs beautifully for them. Viktor’s lips part with need and his head tilts towards yours and he hooks his cane on his forearm to tug you closer with both hands, close enough you can see his pupils dilate. You never make him plead, ‘You’re worth more than that,’ you tell him, and then tell yourself you shouldn’t soothe a man so much, even if Viktor’s sighs when you kiss his jaw are worth more of a million ‘please’s.)

Viktor is very selfish and hates the one class you don’t share with him with a burning passion, making faces when it takes you away from him. You’re well aware it’s just an act: he actually doesn’t. If anything, your lover likes having an excuse to hear your voice and feel your enthusiasm – ‘feel’ because your hands are as fidgety as his and they play with his fingers or sleeve or hair when you ramble. Viktor likes it when he asks what you’ve done in class and you curl around him to exchange secrets about Physics.

What Viktor hates is waiting. The way his heart bends in desperate anticipation and how breathing almost hurts, even if he knows seeing you emerge from that door, looking for him and only him, will be bliss itself. Air will be knocked out of his lungs at the notes of a jingling and impatient motif – present in the slip of keys in a pocket or bag before leaving each other and the struggle against the weary lock of your weary room when coming back home. Only the sight of your face or any sound from your throat will fill them back with oxygen, and Viktor has learnt to act as if he wasn’t waiting at all. Even if you’ve never given him a reason to be ashamed of needing your presence.    

A couple runs after each other below his attentive gaze and the three floors of your building. They crash and curl into each other and shake with either laughter or despair, he can’t make it out. If it’s a giggling fit, Viktor wishes they’d be you and him. You never let him go easily when his stomach aches with snickering muscles. Fingers curl around his jaw to catch the expression, because Viktor doesn’t frequently laugh with his voice and you can relish only in it, in the way his nose scrunches and his eyebrows furrow when he can’t stop what he calls a ridiculous expression. His hands try to hide his face and then paw at yours when you don’t let him. When you’re the one caught in helpless giggling, Viktor presses against you, rubs the tip of his nose against the fullness of your cheek and indulges in the sound or tremble of your body. He has realized holding you while his fingers cause that same reaction is oddly relaxing.

You scold he’s mean. He hums you should stop being so lenient, then. Takes it back when you’re vengeful enough to make him curl in a ball of whines and kicking limbs. Nothing ever gets him to beg as much. 

The couple breaks their embrace and one rubs at their face – it was despair, Viktor hums. Soothing, then considers. He’s no stranger to crying in the safety of your collarbones and then trying to rub the traces away, as if that could prevent the swelling of his eyes. Fingers wrap around his and chide softly that he will only make it worse, even if they do the same against glossy eyes, trying to hide the tears before his lips can drink them away. Viktor drags his knees up to his chest because the thought of you crying makes him nauseous, in a different way than the longing does. Helpless and futile, holding what he worships while it falls apart. 

(Viktor thinks of Rio’s absent gaze as he clinged to her as a child, when his safety net weren’t your arms but a cave and a disgraced professor and a muted waverider. Of feeling helpless again, and not helping anyone at all. The way you sometimes don’t let him close when you’re hurt doesn’t help. Never helps, and Viktor retches with the selfish desire of licking each of your wounds anyways, of keeping you away from anything that might make you cry, of forcing his care on you if it meant you’d be safe. It’s so selfish he hates himself, and avoids you until the terror of becoming that same professor is gone and replaced with rationality.)

You love to compare him to a cat whenever he’s curled against the window on your return. Viktor squints at you in faux offence because he knows the grumpy act always steals an endeared smile, a melted heart and the promise of a kiss the second your hands are free. Usually between his eyebrows, while his hands wrap around your hips and keep you there, in front of him, where he can see you. There is something special in pressing his face against your stomach instead of saying ‘I missed you. You’re back to me, I was growing impatient. I’m glad you’re back. Don’t leave again, please, don’t leave me again.’ Words he doesn’t want to bother in a mumble, lest he has to admit he truly is greedy.

Most dorm rooms are meant for one person, two if the Academy is being extra generous – Viktor recalls desperate laments about your roommate before they dropped out and before he found the courage to mention living together for the following semester. And the one after that. Part of him misses the large, single room he had, a courtesy from being Heimerdinger’s assistant. Viktor had asked him if it would’ve been okay to simply add another bed. Heimerdinger didn’t have to ask why. And even if he had been surprisingly eager to play matchmaker and be an ear for Viktor’s romantic struggles, the Yordle had said no. Couldn’t help but question if the two of you would be able to focus on studies while living together, but supported his pupil all the same. Viktor likes your small room. His eyes leave the couple (busy in another hug) to blink at two beds pressed together. They take most of what should be his half of the room. The rest is a garden of soldering wires stolen from laboratories, textbooks with notes scribbled in the margins, unidentifiable mechanical parts and the actual flowers Viktor tries to grow before succumbing to deadlines and finals and accidentally killing them. Your only concern with the plants is naming them lest he accuses you of murder.

The motif of jingling keys reaches his ears and his heart and it leaps somewhere around his chest, maybe tries to burst out of it; he’s foolishly glad his ribs keep it in place. Bleeding out on old tiles isn’t what he’d like as his demise or your ‘Welcome home’ sight. 

Viktor makes himself smaller in his corner when you finally swing the door open, forcefully, and gripping the doorknob. Your eyes move to the bed first, because you had left him curled on his mattress with a midterm induced headache. The windowsill is the second spot they check, and Viktor pretends not to be staring at you through the reflection on the glass. 

You’ve always been one for entrances that bordered on silly, which is something he adores. You carry conversations he can’t anticipate with your presence. A moment, and then “The door is swollen,” is your own ‘I’m home’. You push it closed more fiercely than usually needed, full of shoulder-shove. Still leaning on the faulty wood, the tip of your left shoe pushes against the back of the other to get rid of it. Cold tiles meet your foot and you can’t help a small wince as you repeat the gesture and change in your slippers. 

“Probably because of humidity and all. Do you think it might be growing mold inside?”

“Hopefully not. My lungs can’t take it.”

“Sometimes I’m glad you got pneumonia two years ago. At least that got you to stop smoking. And get them checked.”

Sudden guilt pools in Viktor’s stomach. You don’t have to know he almost fell in the old habit one weekend you were away, he has told himself. He’s aware you hate secrecy – but shame clogs his throat. His brain conjures images of the cigarette packet that laid on his desk for hours, upright and menacing, before being unceremoniously pushed out the same window he is staring at you through. Viktor still hopes it didn’t hit anyone. 

Too tired to catch the averted gaze of an awful liar, you’re certain he is still sulking about his exam and the two hours you were away. Two bags are dumped on the cluttered table you never eat on as you approach your cat’s hiding spot. Viktor watches as you do: hands innocently behind your back and uniform creased, you’re the picture of an angel, to him. Viktor presses his back against the wall with a quiet, wishful sigh, like a poet looking out the valley of the world. His eyes dump you for the orange sky when you lean to him, bending slightly. 

“Have you been awake long?” One of your hands presses against the ridiculous pillar, the other tries to cradle his cheek. Your fingers hesitate and start to retreat, in case he’s still upset and needs space and because you haven’t washed your hands yet. Viktor blinks, like he does when he needs to snap himself out of something, and pushes his face against your palm before it can get too far. 

“Not long, no,” His voice trembles with another lie as he presses his nose in your skin and searches for a familiar scent, but ink lingers on your hands and so does the clammy smell of university lecture halls. Your thumb drags a line down his nose and he sighs again. “You took longer than usual.” 

It’s an innocent way to lament your absence without sounding bothered, even if Viktor is, very much so. The same teeth he tries to hide when overwhelmed by smiles nip gently at your palm, at the base of a phalanx. It pricks just enough for you to like it.

“I stopped by the bakery, love. You know Thursday nights are a rite of forgiveness.”

He blinks again and his hazel eyes stare into yours. Viktor thinks too much, doesn’t speak enough and is the most expressive person you’ve ever met. You’ve grown used to the absent gazes, clinging arms and faint pouts that visit your lover on Thursday – and you welcome them as long as the cause is innocent and not a mask for sorrow. Before you leave, since Viktor anticipates the longing, and after you’ve come back to his arms. Even if he’s the one to crawl in yours more often than not. Being held is soothing. Pinning you down with his weight is grounding. Eating cake before dinner is exciting. 

“Mhm. Bribery?”

“Not really, just part of the rite. I’ve missed you.”

His angel speaks in effortless love confessions and the lump in his chest is lifted for a moment. Then comes back when you remove your hand from his face. The first frown of the evening makes its appearance but you kiss it away. Promise you’ll be back in a second and kiss him again somewhere on his face when he hums plainly, keep kissing until he’s unable not to smile through faux annoyance as he’s pushing you towards the bathroom with an unspoken hurry up and a pat to your ass. 

Viktor dumps the windowsill for the two beds pressed into one instead of peeking at the pastry hiding in the bag or stealing a bite just to be annoying. His stomach presses against the mattress and fortune favors him: his nose finds itself in a crease of your pillow, and the scent of your skin fills his lungs as he breathes it in. The hand carrying your shared burn scar flexes against the fabric. Sometimes Viktor wonders if your scent is genetically programmed to heal the damage left behind the air of the Fissures and tries to delay wash day by a few nights, only to be completely engulfed in it as you sleep, dream, huff, moan in his arms and the very sheets that carry your sweat. 

(It’s a foolish fantasy. He’ll start coughing up blood in ten years and pass out during the one all-nighter you’ll be too tired to join. He won’t get to put a ring around your finger. You won’t get to say goodbye before your lover disappears in a purple husk.)

A knee dips in the bed. Fingertips lift his shirt, dragging along his spine, tracing a shoulder blade. What remains of angel wings, as some obnoxious theorists like to put it. One peeks just slightly because of faulty anatomy – but an innocent case. “Bodies can be weird,” You once told him while tracing his back as you always do: softly, like feathers, worshipping him while he was face down and bothered by something that he forces to be unspeakable, all strong feelings he tries to rationalise to avoid a heart attack and scaring you to death. Casual words always work like a spell when he is tormented with thoughts. Questions would kill him. Thus, you simply spoke. “I can pop one of my toes for a full minute. Could have, since I was little. It’s just a little quirk, like this.” 

You had pecked the soft spot where bone melted into muscle. Viktor tilted his head up, skeptical of your confession, then counted fifteen pops and struggled to remember why he had been upset in the first place. 

Your thumb moves along an imaginary line towards his ribs and four other fingers press into them absently. A squeeze is always the beginning of a hug. The hum Viktor breathes against your pillowcase is both sleepy and needy: wordless requests for affection, for your hands or lips to keep moving against him. In the aftermath of a night of tipsy limbs too tired for sex, Viktor once muttered he’d rather you manhandled him if it meant he would be touched, but took it back when morning came. You simply read it as an exaggerated confession of enjoying your affection and avoided bringing it up lest he avoided you.

Mere obedience isn’t what drives you to give in to his whims; you are not one to please for the sake of it. Devotion simply comes easy with loving Viktor, and being loved by him. Being understanding, rarely pressing, never going out of your way to elicit reactions to soothe your heart – maybe because Viktor is a jealous man by nature and you don’t need to press any buttons. Maybe you are boring or too careful, but it’s not a good look on him, either: the averted eyes and stiff tongue, the isolation. There is nothing pretty in coaxing him out of bad moods and guilt – because Viktor gets mad at himself when gazes you can’t control linger, even when you don’t regard anyone nor anything outside your bubble, outside what ‘matters’. 

Viktor knows he matters. He has always mattered, even before you; never did he doubt his worth, even on those days he couldn’t move because of his joints and faulty leg, the same limb he’s learnt not to resent as much through your easy loving of it, of him. You shouldn’t even need to ask me – do you feel you have to? It’s not an issue, never has been. The only reason I say I’d give you my own is because you said you’d like to try running down at the harbour. Or play tag, I think you mentioned it once. But it’s not an issue for me, even if you can’t really believe it. You know you would tell me the same. It’s not even a problem to fix, to me. Ah, sorry, do I sound self-centric…? And Viktor’s tears are cradled in the pool of your collarbones like holy water. When shame and the fierce need of not crying over what he knows isn’t all he is come, you are still there to cling to; no longer for comfort or hiding, and just because a cat’s favorite spot is their human’s warmth. You let him make you sunlight to bask in. Understanding, rarely pressing. What else matters? Your lips press a kiss against the back of his neck as he muses over you. 

The books you keep on two stacks on the floor and never recommend to anyone matter. Viktor has read only a few, secretly borrowing copies from a small library; not so you could talk about them together, only to catch glimpses of you in the lines, of the reasons you loved them so much and what they say about the heart his own is eager to fully understand, by himself, with as little help as it can manage. He wants to know you, completely.

Papers with diagrams and flashcards from past exams kept as souvenirs of your efforts (Viktor does the same), next to your favorite academic papers. Gadgets of a small, round, yellow mascotte of a brand he has no interest in, but finds very endearing. Hidden pictures of your family and school years that you let him see when he misses the version of you he has never met and a photo album of the two of you, before and after getting together (It’s thin: Viktor bought a camera only to forget to bring it on most dates). More carefully hidden cutouts of articles about people you no longer talk to. A moth made of a dead, slim bulb light and scrap metals as its wings he put together just to give you a little something out of a nightly whim (He takes a lot of pride in its presence on your shelf). A pitifully welded rose for a platonic Valentine’s day, as if something made by his own hands could even try to be less personal than a bouquet. Viktor realizes he couldn't have been less subtle (There are times you still fear one day he’ll wake up and leave). Jewelry that belonged to your mother and father. Vinyls you can’t play pressed against his own, but at least getting you to talk about the music you adore is much easier than doing the same for your books. Tickets of exhibitions and theater plays you’ve bought for each other. The mole you are currently trying to kiss.

Viktor huffs a chuckle as you nose at his throat, face shoved against the sheets. “Dearest,” He tries, chuckling again, “Love, you’ll suffocate. Wait.” You lean back slightly to let him roll on his back with another fond exhale. Viktor’s fingers reach for your face as you sit properly at his side, one ankle under a knee, back bent forward towards the line of muscle that hosts the dark smudge. The hand that just grazed your jaw traces a line up to the back of your head, tangling in hair. Viktor doesn’t understand your fixations for his moles, but has no reason to stop you. A kiss is a kiss and he wants as many as you can offer. 

Your mouth moves down to his collarbone where a smaller mole almost blends in with his pale skin. Viktor laughs when you lick the bone just because. “Oh, quit it,” Viktor kicks you weakly with his knee as if he hasn’t licked weirder spots, “I don’t think God made collarbones for licking, miláčku.” 

“You quit the dramatics, mister. And don’t tell God what to do.”

Viktor pauses for a moment before his lips break into a small smile and he speaks through poorly hidden amusement. “Did you just quote Bohr at me?” 

Viktor’s fingers tug your hair to make your head tilt back in a gesture that is usually yours. The few brain cells still working after your afternoon lecture go through notes of Bohr, Einstein and Quantum Theory. You can only blink innocently. “No?” Not intentionally, at least. 

Your lips approach his face again the moment his mouth opens to speak. The words die in his throat for another gentle huff, the closest you get to giggles from him on most days. “I was about to ask if you were done,” Viktor says as you kiss a faint acne scar on his chin and then start walking the path of his moles, one your lips knows perfectly. His part to blow on your face as you move from the one above his mouth to the mark under his eyes and you make a face at his cheekiness, an expression that gets him to actually chuckle. I missed you. I missed you, I missed you. His mind reels with it at every kiss, eyes closed. One of your fingers brushes the head of his eyebrow before your lips press in the small one that hides between hair.

“When summer comes,” Viktor moves while you speak to press his forehead to yours, secret code for a kiss, “I’ll drag you outside, to sunbathe. So I can kiss all your freckles.”

“Ah, please, don’t. I fear you will never be done.”

“Is that a vague way to say kisses tire you after a while?”

“Terribly wrong, dearest. But I get antsy with the need to reciprocate, you know that.”

Your expression couldn’t soften more. You lean back despite the hands that grip your forearms to try and get you to still. There is a small scar on his right earlobe that you don’t want to neglect – Viktor’s breath hitches under your attention and he covers it up with a weird sound in his throat. He calls your name once and tugs your hair again, firmer, the kind of firm to push you away. 

Your assault ends before beginning. “What?” Slender fingers grip your jaw the moment you lean back; knowing Viktor, it’s less for keeping you in place and more to ground himself. His fingers are a sweet trail of affection against your skin; sharp and bony limbs that wrap around something divine, the same divine that he’s convinced knows no mercy. Ethereal, Viktor wants to say. Aren't you the prettiest thing they could ever create?

He has that look on his face. Eyes blown wide as if your head just exploded and his lips pressed in a pensive line. Thursdays mean silence, on most weeks. You don’t fully understand what happens every time you are away nor coax him to speak, but Viktor knows the clock is ticking. There are only so many things that are special when unspoken once romanticism wears off and he’s aware you won’t beg. The thought makes him huff, groan, let go of your face and rub his. You watch his tantrum with patience and a raised eyebrow. “What?” You ask again. 

Viktor presses the heels of his palms in his eyes. “I’m going insane.”

“You go insane once a week.”

“I know. Could you keep pretending not to notice?”

That gets you to sigh. Loud and long and ending with a downturned smile: a fond, exasperated token of affection and a consequence of long exposure to him. Viktor wonders how he got so lucky. He peeks from under a palm to make sure you really are smiling. The corners lift more at the sweet sight. Viktor has little things like this: moments he looks at you all doe-eyed, even tilts his head as if searching for the right angle. Sits all curved on chairs like a cat trying to fit a much smaller box. He once mistakenly believed you had left without a word while he was in the bathroom – something you happen to do, albeit rarely, if you forget to check the mailbox; or do check it and end up abandoning grocery bags while going through junk letters (you’re always back before he can get himself to worry and apologize with an extra kiss, so it doesn’t matter). Viktor had moved around the apartment, frowning and mumbling to himself, had approached his safe window to maybe catch a glimpse of you down the street, had completely missed you under the table while trying to kill a spider (not catch: spiders do not matter. He is the one usually rescuing them.) 

You had simply cleared your throat. He had stilled (resembling a doe again, only one freezing amidst the street), stared at you as if caught red handed and then stood in the middle of the room for a moment before sitting innocently on the edge of the bed, feigning ridiculous disinterest. All of that only to stand up in a second when his brain processed you were under the table. 

Viktor sits up, leaning on his elbows with another sigh and a call of your name. “Could we go to bed earlier, tonight?”

“Of course. Are you tired? Naps sometimes make me more sleepy.”

“Ah, like coffee. You are always sleepy.”

“Maybe I am. Are you tired, Vik’?”

“Not exactly. I just want to hold you.”

His lips curl in a small smile when you press a string of endeared kisses down his jaw, a playful mwah, mwah, mwah of cuteness aggression. Viktor’s lips chase yours when you dare lean back and kissing amidst giggling always makes him feel light, like nothing else matters outside your smile. Viktor swallows your laughter until you’re pushing at him to retrieve that goddamn cake. 

He follows suit. Arms find their place around your waist, nothing short of puzzle pieces and magnets, of things that return where they belong. His chest presses against your back like a second spine. Sometimes Viktor lets himself go, trusts you with his weight instead of being normal and asking for hugs without risking a domino effect with you face first on the floor. Other times he approaches with the faintests of pouts and hands that slip under coats and jackets to pull you flush into him and then pouts more when you let go – no matter how long you’ve held him. Viktor tells you there is a heaven in proximity. You jab at him for the poetics. He lets you, as long as you don’t hide blushing cheeks and flustered, bitten lips. 

“Careful,” You chide with a smile as he squeezes your waist and peeks from behind your shoulder, all smiley eyes and clingy nose that rubs against your cheek thrice in the same innuendo of your three pecks. Throats are weak against laughter. “Viktor, careful!”

Whipped cream stains your side of the bed and Viktor’s chin is dusted with powdered sugar after his first bite. His fork steals the toppings from your slice and his mouth a kiss as if that counts as an apology. The flaky layers carry memories of times you’d buy a pastry on the way to classes and sink your teeth into it on old stairs in a lonely breakfast. 

(You would hide. Wait in one of those sacred places no one would find you in, corners and crannies and abandoned benches away from any eyes that would recognize, ask, smile at you with too many teeth and not enough honesty; then take the longer route to your group’s meet-up spot. All to run away somewhere you knew. The brain soothes as much as it hurts. 

“You can’t hide there forever,” Viktor had chided gently, in a delicate whisper, when you slipped up in your perfect act. Spoke in that way to let you know he was watching, observing. That you weren’t too hard to decipher under gazes that wanted to. It was scary. Less when you started staring back.) 

One of your fingertips smears cream on the tip of his nose in late retaliation. “They’re closing soon, by the way,” You say. “Will move somewhere downtown– awful marketing choice, I know. It will become a music shop. A big one!” 

“Unless they ruin the flooring plan in the process,” He knows his tongue can’t touch his nose but a scientist never stops trying; the chocked snicker you hide behind a hand is enough of a satisfying result. “Then we might as well hope they sell vinyl players. I miss working with background music. The radio’s picks are awful.”

“You and your indie rock.”

“You adore it.”

His thumb swipes the cream on his nose and on your lips while you raise both eyebrows. “Why, thank you.” You lick it clean while you speak. “What was that for?”

“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

“We agreed on not quoting musicals in bed.”

“It was Newton, actually: you quoted Bohr earlier. It’s only fair, sweetheart.”

Viktor is so endearing it hurts. You bring your last bite to his smiling lips and his eyes soften with a kind of giddiness only sweets and eureka can bring him. Maybe it’s his own way of allowing himself to be playful, or a little childish. Carefree. You don’t ask: some things are better observed lest the magic falls into mundane. Or worse, into embarrassed – not flustered – and averted eyes. 

(He is as sweet as he can be cheeky and it makes him precious. Openly treating him as such sometimes makes Viktor question if he’s precious glass rather than a gem and he tends to shrink back in himself – even if he thinks of you as precious, too, through the very same vision. So you treat his gentler moments with care, as he does with yours. Even if Viktor prefers lightening the mood to keep you smiling than risking a comfortable silence to turn sour. He likes the quiet much less than one would assume.)  

Plates are moved to the floor and you on your lover’s lap. Viktor holds your face again, tilts it to focus on a cheek and swipes his thumb on the soft skin, pushing it up against your eye. You respond with a downturned smile that fills him with mischief. “Am I being manhandled?”

“Perhaps.” Viktor leans in to kiss below where his finger stretches your skin. It’s not very pleasant. “I missed you,” His chest feels lighter once the confession, the secret, leaves his heart through his throat. Viktor presses another kiss on your cheek before releasing your face, but your hand moves one of his back to your jaw and he can’t help a lovestruck smile. "I missed you terribly, miláčku." You don’t say it back, but your lips press against his and you sigh in his mouth like you finally found peace. Viktor guides your jaw to open further with a simple squeeze to your chin. 

There is heaven in proximity and secrets in hums and you are still young enough to pretend affection will save you both. A ridiculous pillar and dead flowers watch over, the stars peek inside your apartment and everything falls into place. Right before his eyelids close in the bliss of another kiss, Viktor thinks two hours of weekly anguish are worth the prize.  

[notsodelirious]

Heyyyyyy (leans on fancy car)😎

Can I request stealing Wally West’s clothes with Male Reader?

hi :) (leans on your fancy car) absolutely you can!

synopsis: Wally is very generous with his clothes and sometimes, he doesn’t have a choice

notes: SFW with a couple of comments, also while this is an x male reader, it’s only ever referenced when the reader calls himself ‘masculine’ and ‘gay’, Wally calls him ‘dude’

tags: stealing clothes, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff and bickering abt 1k words, no use of y/n

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

It was just supposed to be a casual hang out with a friend. Normal, casual, just a way for bros to chat and play video games together, relaxing after a stressful day of classes and labs. You and Wally had met during uni, had cried and lamented over quantum physics and the rest was history.

Which is how you ended up on his couch out 2 AM, yelling at him over his use and abuse of redstone.

“Dude, you just hoard it!”

“I mined it, dickface! Stop stealing from me!”

“I just made a cool secret base!”

“I needed that for redstone lamps.”

“You’re such an ass,” his words were mumbled but you heard him loud and clear and cuffed him on the back of the head.

“You’re a stealer.”

“Stealer?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you shoved his shoulder but his stupid ass only laughed—you had to glare at the TV in a sorry attempt to not look like a love sick puppy when you saw him smile. He was handsome, objectively, but staring felt a little too gay for a casual hangout. You focused on the game instead, wading through dark caves in search of more ore.

You focused on the task at hand, or tried to at least, because the chill in Wally’s apartment was bad enough to have your hairs standing on end.

“Don’t you ever turn on the heating?”

“Why? Are you cold?”

“Dude, it’s genuinely snowing outside,” you frowned as you pointed to the window, and lo and behold you were correct—the city had gained a thin blanket of snow, temporarily and partially intact as the city slept. Wally lived in a reactively quiet part of the city but come sunrise, the snow would be muddy and trampled.

Wally didn’t say anything as he stood and disappeared into his bedroom. Only to return with a thick jumper in hand.

You weren’t about to argue about why he didn’t just turn on the heating—you accepted the hoodie and slipped it on, almost melting into the fabric. It smelt so distinctly like Wally, an afterimage, delicate and warm, holding the same fruity undertones as his body wash. Oh, this was coming home with you.

Wally hadn’t quite realised that was the catalyst for your theft spree as he resumed the game to continue furnishing his cool secret base.

But you knew.

And it was too late to turn back now.

The next time was arguably very much not planned. The floor of your dorm had flooded and useful as ever, the university helped in absolutely no way shape or form when it came to temporary accommodation. So you were forced to relocate by your own means while they fixed the issue. Thankfully, Wally had agreed to let you crash on his couch while everything got sorted out—the benefits to having a friend live off campus.

You helped out where you could in an attempt to make up for living in his space: cleaning, cooking, laundry. You did it even when he assured you, you didn’t have to, but it was a nice change of pace so you did it anyway.

And maybe you took advantage of that.

But in retrospect, you felt it was inevitable that you’d swipe a pair of his sweats when folding clean laundry.

It took him a full day before he realised that you weren’t wearing your own clothes.

You were messing around in his kitchen when he appeared behind you, set on raiding his fridge when he paused.

“Did you always roll up your waistband?”

“Hmm?” You looked up from the chopping board, pushing the diced bell peppers to the slide. “Why?”

“Those don’t fit you.”

“Sure, they do.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked between you and the sweatpants. You smiled innocently before turning back to your vegetables. Only to yelp—a very dignified and manly sound���when he hooked a finger in the waistband of your bottoms and tugged it.

“Hey!”

“These are mine!”

“Nuh uh! They’re mine now!”

“You can’t just wear my stuff and say it’s yours-“

The bickering went back and forth as you continued to prepare dinner. His finger was still in his your waistband. This was fine. You were fine. At no point did you feel you were about to implode from nerves, embarrassment, or horniness.

It was fine.

You took the sweatpants back to your dorm. Over the week you had stayed, Wally had relinquished control over them and you returned to your newly unflooded dorm giddy and a pair of sweatpants richer.

The third time you stole something of his wasn’t very much theft as it was mild emotional manipulation and looking miserable.

You’d just come back from getting dinner together, some cheap pizza place that could keep up with Wally’s insane appetite—it was pit stop after you had both spent hours at the library, going through entire textbooks worth of material for your upcoming exams.

The streets had warmed as you left winter behind and the snow gave way to sun and kinder breezes. You thought you were fine walking through the streets of Keystone with just a hoodie on—it wasn’t freezing and your skin was thick enough to take it.

You hadn’t accounted for the rain.

It was a couple of droplets at first.

“Do you think it’s going to come down?” Wally asked as he looked up towards the partially cloudy skies.

“Nah, we’ll be fine.”

You were in fact not fine. The downpour was sudden, and even went you dashed for cover under a closed shop’s storefront, you were still left drenched and shivering. You knew you looked like a drowned rat when you looked at him, wet hair stuck to your forehead and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Take that off,” Wally said, gesturing to your hoodie, which you did with stiff limbs. He shucked his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours, pulling you a little closer to himself as he did so.

The jacket was toasty, infuriating warm and comfortable if you thought about it. All of Wally’s clothes were unfairly warm and comfortable. It made wearing them all the more satisfying.

“You’re gonna catch your death like that,” I mumbled as I shuffled closer, leeching off his warmth like a cat looking for sunlight—he really did run hot all the time, it was insane.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he assured you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. It was too late to not notice how close you were, how you could smell him, the scent you’d internalised weeks ago when you’d borrowed his jumper.

You met his eye again.

You don’t know who moved first—you supposed it didn’t really matter.

His lips were gentle against yours, maybe a little rushed, or eager, as you leaned into it. It felt like a sigh of relief, pent up emotions and frustration finally pouring out of you as you kissed him.

The raining around you lightened.

You finally pulled away from each other.

A hand on the nape of his neck, the other clutching his jacket, you rested your forehead against his, smiling a little stupidly as you stood together under your little alcove, alone and together on a deserted street.

“You taste like pepperoni,” was the first thing his stupid mouth uttered as he pulled you into an embrace.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as you let him hold you.

“By the way, I’m keeping this.”

“Absolutely not.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

a/n: tada! I hope I did Wally justice, I’ve read some of his comics and watched the YJ show but I’ve never written for him — requests are open, more info in my pinned post

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed I TUA insert

Chapter 02: Blast from the Past

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

“What’s the date? The exact date” are the second words I hear come from Five’s mouth in almost 17 years. He brought us to the kitchen after making us question reality with his boyish appearance. We all sat around the kitchen table as he moved back and forth in an oversized suit making some type of snack.

“The 24th..” Vanya answers quietly.

“Of what..?”

I raise my head from looking at Five’s cutting board on the table and speak up “March.” I reply to him,

“Good,” he sighs.

All of us are dumbfounded, Klaus even has his hand over his mouth in shock. But Luther is the first of us to bring up the matter. “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” He says.

Five's head stays unmoved from his cutting board, pulling out two slices of bread and a knife. I could tell what he was starting to make now from Vanya’s earlier statements. We all stare at him, but Klaus and I turn to give each other a look.

Luther stands up from his seat and slightly raises his voice so Five will hear him. “It’s been 17 years.”

But Five scoffs at him “It's been a lot longer than that.” Moving closer to the now-standing Luther. He blinks behind Luther to grab something. Standing on a step stool I might add.

“I hadn’t missed that.” Luther states. But I'd have to disagree since I always thought that Five had the coolest power of all of us.

‘Where’d you go?” I asked, head resting on my palm. I sat on the table right next to Klaus with my legs dangling off the right side during all of this and was getting a bit tired from today's mysteries.

“The future” Five blinks back to his original spot “It's shit, by the way.” He adds.

Klaus raises a finger to the sky, “called it!” He exclaims looking around at everyone’s not grinning faces.

“I should've listened to the old man.” Five says grabbing another item from our crappy outdated fridge. A sentence I never thought I'd hear him say. He quotes Reginald and says “You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

Five finally gives us his whole attention by scanning the crowd. “Nice dress.” He says to Klaus.

“Oh well, Danke!” Klaus cheers. I wish I knew what he was talking about.

“Wait- how did you get back?” Vanya cuts in, waving her hand in the air.

Five dips his knife into the peanut butter and gives her a blank look. “In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself. That exists across every possible instance of time.” I don’t think a single person in that room heard what he said.

“That makes no sense,” Diego calls out from his chair. Saying the one thing we were all thinking.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” Five words made Deigo rise from his chair starting to lunge at the teen, but with one arm Luther stopped his whole body from moving. Five furrows his brows unbothered while still crafting his sandwich.

“How long were you there?” Luther asks calmly.

“Forty-five years. Give or take” and everyone sits back down, eyes wide at Five. All of our faces had a look of shock mixed with pity for him, all these years we had no idea where Five was. But instead of the answer being that he joined the circus or something, it is the sad idea that he was lost in time with no help. A little boy growing into a man and navigating a shitty future.

“Wait, hold on.” I blink awake from my thoughts. “So what are you saying? You're 58?”

Five somewhat grits his teeth and states matter of factly at me. “No, my consciousness is 58. Apparently, my body is now 13 again.” He puts the two pieces of bread together to finally create his peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. He walks around as he starts to eat it.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off.” He says. Okay confused once again, who’s Delores? And who names their kid that? “Bet she’s laughing now.”

“Delores?” Vanya questions but Five never gives her a response, just chews. He picks up a newspaper from one side of the table instead though, it states news about Reginald's death along with other such topics.

“Guess I missed the funeral.” He hums flipping through the pages.

“How’d you know about tha-?” Luther asks stupidly.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” I try to hide my smile from his words. He was the same old Five that I knew even all these years later. “Heart failure huh?” He asks the table.

Diego and Luther both say the opposite things at the same time, then snap their heads around to give each other a nasty look.

Five clicks his tongue. “Nice to see nothing has changed.” He puts the newspaper down and leaves all of us in the kitchen as he walks away.

Alison turns and calls out to him giving us her first input of the discussion “Uh, that's it? That’s all you have to say?” As she flails her arms.

Five stops by the archway into the kitchen. “What else is there to say? Circle of life.” And he leaves, by the way, I could hear his little dress shoes clamping down the hall. I say he went to his room.

None of us say anything but just stare at each other. This day was going to be very interesting for all of us.

..

I wasn't sure what to do next, now that Five was here the service for Reginald was about to begin. So I headed to my childhood room, just to take one final look at it again.

The first thing that I remember was how creaky the floorboards were as I walked upstairs. When we all used to sneak out of the house it was really difficult to pick a way to go without someone hearing us. We used to go to all kinds of places as a group like Griddy's doughnuts or some park to play on the playground. Just a way for all of us to escape the daily tortures.

I walked past Luther's room to mine at the end of the hallway. I would’ve never put this together as a kid but now I see the rooms were put in that order by our numbers, me being zero I was first.

Although, as a kid, I was never really treated as first in anything. That was Luther. I was more like a spare child. Someone they needed but never thought of first. I would’ve preferred being number 8.

My room was tiny, but I tried to pack it with lots of personality. I'd model it after the rest of everyone’s rooms since I was the last one to get mine. I remember the process of getting my room.

I'd just walked into the building with nothing but a brown stuffed animal bear with a small pink bow and my blue dress on. He was my world but he didn't have a name until I grew older. I named him Benny, after my actual world and best friend.

“Number Zero, I will show you to your room now,” Pogo said to me, trying to be as gentle as possible. I was very fragile at that stage, as anyone would be if they were dragged here kicking and screaming. The whole house was truly terrifying to the younger me, barely standing at 4 ‘10. I thought the academy was going to swallow me whole.

Without protest I let Pogo hold my hand and bring me upstairs. My room at that time had nothing in it but a bed and a window. It looked freshly constructed like it wasn't a room before my arrival. Like it was planned just for me, which I guess it was.

I was left alone with my thoughts for like an hour before I first met Grace who’d asked me if I wanted to make cookies with her, for me and the other children to enjoy. And I liked her instantly, she was the first person to make me smile. But I didn't see any of the other children for two days and I still to this day don’t know where they went.

But now my room was fully decorated with a desk where I’d work on new sketches or write in my journal. My hobbies were always drawing and painting.

Above my brown desk was a mirror where I'd get ready every morning and a bunch of vines that hung down from a shelf. That shelf was stacked with books that I've probably read one hundred times over by 17.

What made me really happy was seeing Benny, still on my cream-colored sheets all these years later. Even though I'm sure I tucked him away somewhere before I left. I should’ve taken him with me.

I held him to my chest with my back turned towards my door for a bit. Taking in all the scents of my room, Benny smelled like rose petals courtesy to Mom who washed him every time I spilled something on him with rose detergent. I closed my eyes and he was immediately taken out of my hands by someone who came up close behind me.

“Klaus, give him back.” I frowned. I knew it was Klaus even if he was trying to be sneaky. His heart was loud and his steps were still heavy, and if that wasn't enough the smell of alcohol could give it away.

“Aw man, how’d you know it was me.” He sighed, handing me Benny back.

I giggled, turning his way “I always know it’s you, you're the only one who comes in here.” Which wasn’t a lie.

“Mhm sure..” he said, taking a step further inside to look around. “This place looks the same!”

He pointed to my beanbag in a corner and said. “This is where we'd do drugs as kids awww!” He gushed. After a second we both started laughing hysterically no way I forgot what we did in here. Yes, I did try weed in here once when I was 16 or 15, I caught Klaus with it and told him to stay safe with it. And then before I knew it he’d started sharing his cigarette with me.

“How’d I forget about that?” I asked him.

He grinned. “You were probably too stoned to remember anything. Sweet Y/n had a rebellious side to her. But that wasn't the only thing we did you know? All those times we snuck out to get more was the fun part.”

“I definitely haven’t done any since.” I shake my head before pausing. “Or maybe I just don’t remember.” I joked.

He sat down on my bed and I sat with him. “You wanna do some more?” He asked with a childish look.

“No way” I replied to him, dropping Benny on the bed to make an X with my arms. “My rebel ways are over.”

He pouted and looked down at my fluffy bear. “Who’s this?” He exclaimed. I forgot that everyone didn't know about my bear minus Grace and Pogo. I was too embarrassed to let the fellow 12-year-olds know that I still slept with a teddy.

“Uhm, he’s mine,” I say scratching my hand. But I'm sure he already knew that part.

Klaus folds his hands into his lap and kicks his shoes off. Getting fully immersed in the story I was about to start. “Do go on.” He asks.

“I've had him since I was a baby.” I started but Klaus shifted a little in his seat knowing that my home before here was a little taboo. “He’s very special to me and up till recently he didn't have a name. But now his name is Benny.” As soon as I say that his head shoots up to stare at a corner of my room. “Klaus?” I try to get his attention. It was a bit spooky though since no one was there.

He suddenly turns back and engulfs me in a hug. I knew he knew what I meant by the name choice, the three of us were super close. I named him after the only one of us whose life was robbed from him too soon, Ben who was Number six.

“I still sometimes blame myself.” I let fly out of my mouth. “Just the fact that I couldn’t save him, and that's literally all that I do.”

Klaus hugs tighter before letting out a sad sound. “He doesn’t want you to think that Y/n, not at all.”

I pulled away confused. “I'm sorry, you said he doesn’t?”

Klaus stutters. “D- Did I say he doesn’t? I mean he wouldn't! Of course, no one would want you to think that especially when it was something you couldn’t control.”

I frowned anyway trying to dig these thoughts into the back of my mind. He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from my comfy bed and Benny. Ushering me out of my room.

“One death is enough to think about, let’s send off Daddy dearest and get out of here.” He snickers “You wanna get a sandwich with me later? I'm afraid I'm out of cash though.” Klaus looked through his pockets like it would just magically appear.

My frown turns into a grin. “Don’t worry sandwiches are on me.”

Klaus almost leaps in the air with excitement, “See this is why you're my favorite.”

..

By the time we got downstairs, everyone had gathered around the longue once again. This time getting ready for the end of this crazy day, the ceremony. It had started raining so I told Klaus to get an umbrella for himself. He picked up a small pink frilly thing that belonged to one of us when we were kids and walked outside. I grabbed a blue one with a black handle.

The heavy rain fully affected all of our moods instantly, everyone turned somber and cold. We stood in a circle in the courtyard, where we'd been for Five's return earlier. Except two of us didn't have umbrellas, Luther and Diego who wanted to be different I guess.

My eyes met with Ben's statue and I was suddenly glad for the rain because it would mask any teardrops that would’ve fallen. Being too close to bad memories and being even closer to new ones is about to form now.

“Did something happen?” Grace asks innocently. It was almost like she had no idea what happened at all. But I thought since she was a robot she would have to remember all these key moments.

“Dad died. Remember?” Allison gives her a strange look.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Grace looks down at her feet.

We all gave her a confused glance and Alison asked a question. “Is Mom okay?” She said to no one in particular.

But Diego was the one to respond since he was right next to her. “Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. She just needs to rest. You know, recharge.” Which didn't sound very convincing at all.

We all waited for one last person, Pogo, to come into our circle so we could move on. Or at least so I can move on.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” Pogo nods to Luther as he joins us. Luther was standing in the middle holding Reginald’s remains in a black urn. He stumbles around a bit before opening it up. And pouring it onto the mud floor. It mimicked the way that sand would fall in someone’s hand when picked up,

Klaus, cigarette in hand, grits his teeth at the unsatisfactory delivery right next to me. And Luther looks up to see all of us staring at him, thinking the same thing.

“Probably would have been better with some wind.” Luther thinks out loud.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Asked by Pogo who looks around at us, we all avoid his gaze. I'd speak if everything that would’ve come out of my mouth wasn't swear words.

“Very well.” Pogo clears his throat. “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master.. and my friend, and I shall miss him very much.” I sympathized with Pogo and his words. But I could never call Reginald any of those things myself. He made me hurt, he made us suffer and I will never forgive him.

Pogo carries on. “He leaves behind a complicated legacy—“

“He was a monster,” Diego speaks out.

Klaus laughs and everyone looks surprised by his words, even though they secretly thought the same. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world is better off without him.” He states.

“Diego” Alison tries to stand in.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names, he had Mom do it.”

Like a switch was turned on Grace replies with an enthusiastic “Would anyone like something to eat?” She says.

“No, it's okay mom.” Vanya says.

“Oh, okay.” She replied, her strange enthusiasm never leaving her tone.

Diego starts to rant to us. “Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

Luther looks at him angrily, “You should stop talking now.”

Diego stops looking at us to stare down Luther once again. “You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.”

“I'm warning you.”

Five turned to me and Klaus to see what we thought of their bickering. We got ready for something that was about to go down.

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.”

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther bears his teeth when Diego moves almost uncomfortably close to him.

“That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego yells pointing his fingers to Luther's chest. I knew that would set him off. And it did because Luther swung at him which he gracefully avoided. And the two started to fight.

I looked at Klaus again, my eyes asking if we should get involved. But that never turned out well in any of their other fights. And as expected Klaus shook his head and mouthed no to me.

They kept punching at each other for a crazy amount of time. Both being well trained in fighting they were able to not get him by the other. Pogo yells trying to get their attention. “Boys, stop this at once!” He tries to persuade.

Klaus moves both me and Five out of the way like we were in any length close enough to get harmed anyway. Five slaps his arm out of the way.

Luther finally lands a hit on Diego causing him to lose his footing and slide back a sizable amount of feet. “Come on, big boy!” He screams. Luther goes in for another punch but Diego gets the upper hand and starts to pound his tiny fist in comparison to Luther's huge body again and again.

“Knock it off,” I called out, I thought it was almost like my job to say something. Even though the number system was not in place and we were our own people now it still felt like my place to break off their fights.

But as if I'm the angel on their shoulders the devil right next to me named Klaus yells for them to keep going. The sounds of their punches get louder as they descend into madness. Pogo sighs and walks off, realizing it’s hopeless to try and stop them.

Luther hurdles Diego onto the ground almost at the feet of Ben's statue.

“Oh no..” The words I said were felt by all the people around me. We all started to move in getting more weary of them doing something bad.

Diego jabs at Luther but his fist is caught by the bigger fist. He then holds Diego out like a child who's being naughty as Diego yells at him to let go. He breaks free and goes for another punch, this time it lands and you can hear the sound of either Luther's jaw breaking or Diego’s hand breaking on impact. I think it's the second. They both pant as Diego steps in front of Ben's statue.

Five gets fed up with all the fighting. “We don’t have time for this.” He says before storming off back into the house. Leaving me and Klaus to watch the fight with different expressions.

“Come here, big boy.” Diego antagonizes while standing in front of his brother's statue.

Luther runs up and takes a swing at him.

“Stop it!” My shaky voice screams. They were getting too close to him..

Diego dodges Luther’s hit and he falls over his fist going straight through Ben's statue. Making him crash onto the floor and his head comes right off. Luther stops.

I fight the urge to scream out as he falls down. The statue dedicated to Ben had been destroyed right in front of my eyes. Due to his sibling's stupid argument over something so small compared to Ben's big impact on the Umbrella Academy. On me.

Klaus lets out a sigh but doesn't look to me to see. By his tone he didn't think this was as important as it was to me. This was one of the last things of Ben I had.

“And there goes Ben’s statue..” Alison points out the obvious. No way that was it, there had to be a way of fixing it. It had to go back up. She walks away as I leave Klaus’s side to step to Luther.

Thinking the fight was over, I was steaming with anger about to cursing the hell out of him.

“Deigo no!” Shouts Vanya and I should've turned around.

His knife hits me in the back of my arm cutting right through my sweater and my skin. Right before hitting Luther’s arm as well. Diego’s once smug face is wiped clean at the realization. I thought all his knives had perfect accuracy but maybe it was the fact that he was tired after fighting or maybe since he still hit his target he thought it was whatever.

I know my arm will heal but it still hurts like a bitch. Since his knives were made for injuring. Luther gasped, grabbing onto his wounded arm. I was still so angry at him for what he just did but I still wanted to heal him. I take a step closer reaching my palm out but he runs past me and back into the house. His big steps filled my ears.

I turned to Diego and he knew what was coming for him “You never know when to stop, do you?” I point at Ben’s statue. “Now look at what you did.” Before I could let my full feelings out, I knew I needed to get out of there. So I gave one final look at Ben’s once again dead body and walked away. My arm radiates a yellow glow as the slice heals.

I left Vanya, Klaus and Grace there with Diego.

..

Vanya gives Diego a hurt look as she also turns to leave, but not before he lets out his last snide comment of the afternoon.

“You got enough material for your sequel yet?” He bows his head down to get into her face.

She looks at him before saying. “He was my father, too.” Then leaves. It wasn't clear if he truly took in her words.

Diego walks over to his Mom. “Mom, let's go inside.” She seems reluctant. “Come on. Okay? Come on.” They both walk inside of the house.

Klaus sat on a bench in the pouring rain as they left. His legs crossed and deep in thought. He puts his cigarette back into his mouth and walks over to his Dad’s remaining ashes.

“I bet you're loving this. Hmm?” He says to the ashes. “The team at its best. It’s just like old times.” Before letting his cigarette die out into the “ashtray” of his father’s remains.

“Best funeral ever!”

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[violetfractal]

a ritual for you (the numpad game)

tired of sitting on your butt? want to get to know your environment?

1. make a crude map of your house. number the rooms from 1 to 6. here we have shown a house with 6 rooms but you should do however many rooms you have. act naturally throughout the ritual. Use whatever numbering system feels intuitive to you. The goal is to create a process that is suited for you.

2. subdivide each room into a 3x3 grid of spaces. visualize the number pad on your phone or keyboard. take liberties to make the numbering feel natural to the room. I often assign 0 to the closet. You don't have to do this ahead of time, you can wait to subdivide a room until you enter it.

3. generate a random number between 100 and 699. the more random, the better - dice is good, a quantum mechanism is the best. you can find free quantum number generators online. [1]

the first digit is the room you will enter (step 1)

the second digit is the portion of the room you will visit (step 2)

the third digit is the subsection you will examine (step 3)

4. interact with your randomly generated destination. physically visit the chosen spot. do whatever feels natural. maybe you notice a cup, take it to the kitchen. maybe you see a bug or pet your cat. maybe you find something you had lost.

Examples:

K has 6 rooms in its house. K rolls for a number between 1 and 699... 171. K consults its map and goes to room 1. It enters room 1 and proceeds to quadrant 7, the lower left ninth of the room. This space is occupied by a bookshelf. K decides that the vertical face of the bookshelf will split into sections 1-9 and the top of the shelf is section 0. K looks in section 1, the upper-left corner of the bookshelf, and finds a book on mathematics. K skims a couple pages, replaces the book and heads to the fridge for a bite to eat.

D has 12 rooms. D can roll a number from 100 to 1299. D can modify the ritual and roll 1000 to 12999 if he want to further subdivide each room. What is D looking for?

J splits infinity and visits every location in her house simultaneously.

B finds a long-lost notebook, a phone charger, and a cool spider all in one night!

N plays the ritual outside and is never heard from again. Never play the ritual in a location with enemies.

[strautmaskreplica]

hey kid...

want a free ttrpg?

Dog and background by @b-marsollier

The demo version of A Fool's Errand is available for free on itch!

A Fool's Errand is a tarot-fueled science fantasy roleplaying game about playing the Fool, keeping the gods in check, flirting with godhood yourself, and preventing the next Big Oops.

4-6 Players (including GMs)

Play with a deck of tarot cards in lieu of dice

Session 0 mechanics heavily baked in

~2-4 hours per session

Great for campaigns (4+ sessions)

Modular and replayable with tons of GM support to pick up & play

Interested? A Fool's Errand is funding starting October 22nd. Pre-save so you don't miss it!

The Game

A Fool’s Errand uses tarot cards to tell an expansive science fantasy story over several phases.

First, the group collaborates on the Big Oops - the biggest calamity in this world’s history. Players pinpoint what the world lost when the previous Fools reached their journey’s zenith, and which Major Arcana consorted or clashed with each other along the way.

Then, players create their Fools - Android or Human characters who become intertwined with the Major Arcana gods (including those who had a hand in the Big Oops), and whose journeys are led by unique tarot decks built with choices made in character creation.

Finally, the player’s characters play in the post-calamity, exploring both the waking world, and the Dream & Digital Networks - the surrealistic subconscious realm of Humans & Androids, respectively. Both are places of heightened power and quantum knowledge accessible to the Fools.

Players’ unique decks determine success, failure, and when a Major Arcana can’t help itself but to intervene in the adventure. Characters always have the option to accept the obligations from the Gods, or deny them.

Can they keep the Gods in check, contend with calamity, and spare the world another Big Oops?

Character Creation

Players build their Fools by selecting three motivations, each tied to a different Major Arcana. Included among these choices are the key Major Arcana who involved themselves in the previous Big Oops.

Each Major Arcana has a list of motivations to choose from. These three selected motivations provide a springboard for players to conceptualize their character. The three chosen Major Arcana are then inserted into the player’s play decks.

Players then expand upon their character builds by selecting their Lineage (Human or Android), Archetypes (Influencer, Inquirer, Operator, Outlaw, Protector, and/or Virtuoso), Skills, and Power Trees (a list of abilities themed after the Minor Arcana and branching into either Magic or Tech).

Characters pursue their motivations by exploring both the post-calamitous waking world and the Dream and Digital Networks. All the while, the Major Arcana intervene, planting seeds for players to clarify and satisfy their requests, or “Obligations”. As the Obligation Tracks fill up, the Fools flirt with godhood and draw closer to the advent of their own Big Oops.

Get This Game!

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[l1ghtfromthecloset]

Some funny/wholesome headcanons I have for some of the YGO DM characters:

Yugi: Can never find anything. Like ever. Yami used to help him find missing things and now that he's gone, anytime Yugi can't find something, it ends up on his bed exactly 20 minutes later magically. Every. time.

Joey: Is amazing at braiding hair. He used to do it for Serenity all the time.

Téa: Despite being amazing at dancing, she's not that great at singing. But she's also really good at lip syncing so it makes up for it.

Tristan: opposite to Téa, he is severely uncoordinated when it comes to dancing, but pretty good at singing. He also owns a guitar in his closet.

Mokuba: He likes to eat straight up coffee beans. Like, just the beans. Straight from the bag. Seto walked in on this one morning and now he is forever secretly terrified of his little brother in the morning.

Seto: He listens to lofi and Hans Zimmer when he works. He listens to metal when he builds decks, and he listens to "You're not me" on repeat regularly. (I made an entire Spotify playlist based on this).

Seto and Mokuba: they combat train together. It's how they bond. And Mokuba somehow beats Seto every time.

Bakura: despite being the Bri'ish little fella we know and love, he hates tea. Especially black tea. Even if it's sweetened. He prefers coffee over anything.

Marik: used to love tea but stopped drinking it once he found out that Bakura hates it. Now he drinks coffee, despite not liking it that much.

Rebecca: she secretly still sleeps with her teddy. She also reads a quantum mechanics book before she sleeps. 💀

Duke: He has a small side hustle in making resin dice. He has a pretty creative and crafty side.

That's all I can think of for now :p

Lemme know if y'all want more. You're free to add on your own to this if you'd like :)

[ang3lic-stiims]

The Magnus Archives 👁️🕸️📼 and The Magnus Protocol ☕️💻🗣️ stimboard.

Credits:

[that-red-bastard]

Classical physicist: God do not play dice

Quantum physicist: *With bags under their eyes and holding a bottle of vodka* God is a gambling addict and we're all part of his damn casino

[o-hora-o]

do you have thoughts about any other researchers/scientists who the NA branch scientists might have known? such as Ford, Bohr, etc? I know you've mentioned them before and I was wondernig if you had thoughts about them.

I'm so thankful for this top-tier question 😭❤️ tho I'm not sure that you expected such delulu answer but I'm a nerd so here we go. To understand who the NA branch/42 lab might have known, we should dive into the world of science lore and go through connections between scientists who lived mostly in the late 19th-first half of the 20th century (hello, Hans Bethe, you 100-year-old cheater).

So, we have these 4 major groups: physicists, inventors/electrical engineers, chemists and mathematicians (yes, some of them can be put into several groups, but don’t mind it pls).  

Of course, this map can be expanded even further but it’d be too much. The main idea here is that all of them kinda knew each other one way or another.

Let's start with the biggest group: Physics

Niels Bohr is undoubtedly one of the biggest figures along with Einstein and Planck. They were like 3 holy spirits who became guiding lights for many other scientists. As a fun fact, Niels was in this Indian mythology fan club too.

For example Albert was fascinated by Hinduism and Buddhism, philosophical and cosmological concepts (the Upanishads text to be precise) and the idea of unity of all existence. So was Carl Jung btw, but he was more into the mythology part itself. Schrödinger, being a sucker for philosophy, was deeply influenced by Upanishads and Vedanta (It can be seen in his What is Life? book where he explored the idea of unity of the self with the universe and the existence of two souls: individual and universal, which was a parallel to how particles behave in the observer's presence). And in Bohr’s case, he was influenced by Hindu cosmology. Just as Erwin, he found parallels to his ideas in Indian philosophy. 

So, as I said, Niels Bohr was one of the most influential physicists and a central figure in the history of quantum mechanics and atomic theory. He was a life-long friend of Einstein but they had a silly relationship: they often debated on the interpretation of quantum mechanics. For example, Bohr was rooting for Copenhagen Interpretation.

The main idea of the Copenhagen Interpretation was that until you look at a particle, it doesn't have a certain position or speed, therefore it exists in different places all at once. But the moment you look at it, it chooses its place and speed. It's as if until you open your eyes, all things around you exist in different states. Feel paranoid now? You can thank Bohr and Heisenberg for that. "It’s not the particles' fault for acting weird, it’s just how the universe works at this super tiny level". But Einstein was skeptical of the view "How can particles be in two places at once? That’s just crazy!" and commented it as “God does not play dice with the universe”. 

So despite different views Einstein and Bohr kept being bff with mutual respect and admiration for each other. Imma just leave it here:

Max Planck, being not only one of the founding fathers of quantum theory but also a father figure to the science world itself, was both Einstein and Bohr’s mentor (Planck’s biography aka driven by vision broken by war is still my angst roman empire help, that was the saddest thing you can read). And Bohr, just like Planck, played a key role in mentoring the following generation of physicists too. 

And this is where we meet Werner Heisenberg, one of Bohr’s most gifted students. Heisenberg aka Uncertainty Principle guy, Heisenberg aka one of the main Architects of Quantum Mechanics guy, Heisenberg aka Schrödinger’s pain in the ass guy.

Friendship between Heisenberg and Bohr was truly a legendary one, Bohr treated Werner like a family member, like a son, but unfortunately this friendship was shattered when Heisenberg took part in the German nuclear project. 

There’s this mysterious story about Heisenberg’s visit to Niels Bohr in nazi-occupied Denmark in September 1941 and the story about unsent letters which were significant episodes in the history of quantum physics. “Mysterious” because it is unknown what exactly they talked about but it is said that during their conversation, Heisenberg seemed to avoid direct discussion about the atomic bomb and its consequences. That meeting was emotionally tense, with Bohr feeling betrayed by Heisenberg. 

It is also said that after the 1941 visit Heisenberg wrote an unsent letter to Bohr. The content of this letter remains unknown but it is known that Heisenberg was deeply upset and troubled by their tense conversation and relationship. Heisenberg had likely tried to express his confusion, regret, or desire to explain himself to Bohr. Some historians say that Heisenberg may have been trying to signal to Bohr that he had not been fully loyal to the German nuclear project or even that he had deliberately slowed its progress. 

In 1943 Bohr fled Denmark to escape the occupation. Before leaving, Bohr wrote an unsent letter to Heisenberg. He wrote how disappointed he was with Heisenberg, Bohr believed that the pursuit of knowledge could not be divorced from the responsibility of how that knowledge was applied. There was also the “Copenhagen” play written by Michael Frayn about this story between the two. Angst fic right there. 

Nevertheless, Werner interacted with many many greatest minds. Planck influenced him deeply and supported his work, Werner’s father was a friend of Sommerfeld, then he studied with Wolfgang Pauli and Max Born was another mentor of his and they both worked on Matrix Mechanics.

Schrödinger aka "I don't like it, and I'm sorry I ever had anything to do with it" guy, Schrödinger aka “I insist upon the view that all is waves” guy, being inspired by Louis de Broglie, had a totally different approach and contrary to Matrix Mechanics he developed Wave Mechanics. Bohr was more of a philosophical mentor-debater to Erwin and even then their relationship was far more distant than the one between Bohr and Heisenberg. Just like Einstein, Erwin was wary of Copenhagen Interpretation. Unlike Einstein, this classical vs modern approaches disagreement became a rift that didn’t let Erwin build a strong bond with Heisenberg or Bohr.

And the funniest part is that Schrödinger’s “cat experiment” was created to prove Copenhagen Interpretation wrong and absurd (though it didn’t contradict Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle).

Once Bohr invited Schrödinger to be his house guest and then started a debate about the Copenhagen Interpretation. He tried to convince Erwin that it was right for several days after which Erwin fell ill and Niel’s wife had to nurse him.

“There was Bohr, the indefatigable debater that he was, sitting on the edge of the bed continuing the debate, oblivious to the late hour, as though he were engaged in the most serious of scientific discussions, while I, in my bed, could hardly keep my eyes open".

Btw De Broglie's theory was inspired by Einstein AND became publicly known because of Einstein. De Broglie's work could have gone unnoticed for years, if Einstein had not paid attention to it. Einstein told Born about this idea and therefore triggered a chain of new theories in the world of quantum mechanics. At that time, physicists listened to every word of Einstein, and as soon as he mentioned de Broglie's ideas in an article, Schrödinger was immediately inspired.

Speaking of Max Born, he was also one of the central figures in the quantum mechanics field and a part of Copenhagen Interpretation club. He first studied mathematics and turned to physics only after finishing his doctorate. Because of that Born wrote his works with exceptional mathematical precision which was very different from Bohr's intricate theoretical sketches, which contained brilliant ideas and physical intuition, but often required refinement in the mathematical part (the curse of many physicists). However, both geniuses were important to a new understanding of atoms. And of course Born knew everyone I mentioned previously and even more since he mentored not only Heisenberg or Oppenheimer but he had many assistants who were also well known physicists.

But let’s go back to the one who had the most connections, Einstein, and look at his relationship with the Curie family (of course Chemistry group can be expanded way more but we’re trying to not go far away from the ae cast here). Even though Albert didn’t have such a strong bond with Curie as he had with Bohr and Planck, he and Marie were great friends who built their friendship on shared experience of being outcasts. In his letter Einstein expressed admiration for her work on radioactivity while Marie was deeply impressed by special theory of relativity. Their friendship is mostly known for Einstein's support during Curie’s scandal in 1911 (Einstein was one of a few who defended her). And in return Marie supported and encouraged Albert’s work that at that time was seen as absurd and outrageous. Moreover they both played important roles in the Solvay Conferences (another science world crossover aside from Manhattan Project). 

Yes, they didn’t work together on scientific projects but instead they just preferred sending letters to each other discussing either work or personal matters like families, concerns about too much public attention or Sklodowska expressing how difficult it was for her to be a woman in the male-scientific world. 

By "concerns about too much public attention" I also mean that Einstein disliked giving interviews. As he once said:

But I can give you this silly anecdote instead:

Since I mentioned how Einstein’s work challenged the science world shaped by Newton, we need to meet a certain astrophysicist in this story. To many, Einstein’s ideas seemed to rock the foundations of classical mechanics which was a true blasphemy. But most importantly, everyone thought that it was unprovable. How to measure the bending of space-time?

And this is where Sir Arthur Eddington appeared on stage, a British astronomer and mathematician.

In 1915 Einstein published his general theory of relativity, which proposed that massive objects like stars and planets could bend space-time. This theory, even more radical than his special theory of relativity, predicted that light could be bent by gravity - a phenomenon that could be tested by observing stars near the Sun during a total solar eclipse. Eddington saw an opportunity. For years, astronomers had speculated about Einstein's theory and the coming eclipse of 1919 would offer Eddington the perfect opportunity to put Einstein’s prediction to the test.

As the moon passed in front of the Sun, they observed stars near the Sun's edge. According to Einstein’s theory, the light from those stars should’ve appeared to shift, bending as it passed near the Sun’s massive gravitational field. Eddington’s results confirmed the prediction. The light had indeed bent, just as Einstein had said it would.

The news sent shockwaves through the scientific community. Einstein’s theory of general relativity had been validated by experiment. The very fabric of space-time, once a mathematical abstraction, became a proven reality. Eddington’s observations were seen as a triumph for the world of physics and for the first time Einstein’s name became known to the wider world. 

In the following years the friendship between Eddington and Einstein deepened. Eddington explained and defended Einstein’s work to the English-speaking world. Their correspondence, filled with mutual respect and admiration, continued until Eddington’s death in 1944.

Of course I also should mention Marcel Grossmann. He was a Swiss mathematician and also Einstein’s friend and a classmate. They had a close work relationship regarding development of General Relativity theory. 

You see, despite the stereotype, Einstein was good in mathematics, but he was more about physical intuition. And since he didn’t have this intuition in mathematics like, for example, Ramanujan, he encountered mathematical problems that were beyond his own skills while developing his theory of General Relativity. Therefore, he needed help from mathematicians like Marcel Grossmann. 

Grossmann was well-versed in the mathematics needed for the theory of General Relativity. He introduced Einstein to mathematical concepts such as Riemannian geometry and Ricci calculus which was much needed for the equations that describe the bending of spacetime in General Relativity. Without Grossmann's help, finding mathematical language to express physical ideas of the theory would’ve been Einstein’s huge headache.  

Aside from Grossmann there was also Hermann Minkowski – another great mathematician and a former professor of Einstein. Instead of assisting in the theory of General Relativity, he helped with the development of Special Relativity theory. Minkowski realized that Einstein's theory could be elegantly expressed in terms of a four-dimensional spacetime through the mathematical language.

While we’re in this Mathematics group, let me introduce you to one of the big heads - John von Neumann. A true legend of many fields and thanks to that he had vast connections (and thanks to participating in the Manhattan Project too).  

One anecdote about the relationship between Einstein and von Neumann comes from von Neumann’s colleague and Einstein’s friend, mathematician Kurt Gödel. According to Gödel, one day, while Einstein was talking with von Neumann, the topic turned to the nature of space and time. Einstein was very passionate about this and more philosophical while von Neumann took a more practical mathematical approach.

"You are thinking about space and time as something fundamental. But we can make it all a product of the way we approach the equations".

Einstein chuckled and remarked:

"Well, John, you have a way of turning the most beautiful ideas into something utterly cold and mechanical".

And of course, Bohr had intense debates about the Interpretation with John too.  But, despite their differences, they respected each other’s intellects, and Bohr even referred to von Neumann as “the cleverest man in the world”.

Von Neumann’s relationship with Enrico Fermi was a close one. Fermi and von Neumann could converse about everything, be it nuclear physics or latest developments in quantum mechanics. Yeah, they shared many interests. Together, their abilities led to some interesting collaborations during the Manhattan Project and in nuclear physics.

My boy, my proud and joy, Richard Feynman, the charismatic and playful physicist (no, really, he was the legendary childish rascal, Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman was a chef’s kiss) who would later become famous for his work in quantum electrodynamics and his ability to dumb down complex ideas (no, really, The Feynman Lectures on Physics -), had a deep admiration for von Neumann and was influenced by von Neumann’s ability to make tough problems elegantly simple.

Yeah, one of the most famous stories about von Neumann is that he was a child prodigy. When he was just six years old, he could divide large numbers in his head. Then, his parents had to hire a tutor to teach him mathematics but the tutor quickly realized that von Neumann was far beyond him. One day, von Neumann’s father gave him a large number and the young John immediately calculated the square root. The father asked him how he could do that and Von Neumann simply replied with "I memorized the tables of square roots".

The reason why it was important to add him here was that not only that he knew mostly everyone but also he knew Alan Turing and Alan Turing is someone lab 42 might have worked with.

Enrico Fermi, usually known for his paradox (shout-out to Remembrance of Earth's Past fans) was also a huge figure in physics, a brilliant man with dry humor who created the first nuclear reactor and took part in the Manhattan Project. 

Fermi and Niels Bohr were two of the central figures in the development of nuclear physics, and their collaboration during the Manhattan Project was essential to the creation of the first atomic bomb. 

Oppenheimer described Fermi’s ability to get to the core of a problem saying:

"When I have a difficult problem, I go to Fermi. He just looks at it, and then, within minutes, tells me what’s wrong and what I should do"

Another Fermi’s famous collaboration was with physicist Leo Szilard, with whom he developed the concept of the first nuclear reactor. 

Szilard and Fermi had this funny interaction during the construction of the reactor:

Szilard: Enrico, are you sure this will work? 

Fermi: *smiles* We’ll know in a few minutes 

Now, the inventors. Let’s talk about Ford and Edison~

They were THE besties. The story of how Ford and Edison met is just dhsdfhfjgh it’s the story of two pioneers who first met in the early 1890s and formed a strong friendship that lasted till the end. 

Ford was kinda an unknown engineer with a huge passion for machinery and innovations who worked at the Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit. One day, Ford got a chance to meet Edison, and according to Ford himself, the encounter was nothing short of life-changing.

"I was just a boy, and when I met Edison for the first time, I had the feeling that I had met the right man at the right time. He was a great influence on me. I was keen to learn how things were done, and he had a way of seeing things that made you want to follow him". 

Ford admired Edison’s vision of using technology to improve everyday life. Ford saw in Edison a kindred spirit, someone who was not afraid of failure and who constantly looked for ways to change the world through innovations (no, fr, the man couldn’t live a day without coming up with new ideas). In return, Edison was impressed with Ford's enthusiasm and his skills in the engineering field.

Ford's dream to build a car and his persistent drive to make things work even when others doubted him resonated deeply with Edison’s own mantra: “Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration”. 

It is said that once Edison told Ford:

"I’ve never met a man who knew so much about engines as you do. I think you’re going to make a lot of progress, young man. You have something inside you." 

These words meant the world to Ford (At that time he was working on his Model T and established his Ford Motor Company which, of course, Edison used to visit). In the 1900s Ford and Edison began to form a deep personal friendship. The two often spent time together at Ford's estate or in Edison's laboratory. 

"Ford is one of the great men of the modern age. He has an instinctive ability to build things, and he's not afraid of taking risks. I think he will be remembered as the man who revolutionized the way people live".

"He taught me to never be afraid of making mistakes. Edison was a man who would look at a failure as nothing more than a step in the direction of success. He always kept moving forward".

In later years, the friendship between Ford and Edison continued to flourish. Moreover, Edison and Ford (+ Harvey Firestone and John Burroughs) had camping trips which became a cherished tradition, they called themselves "Vagabonds" who annually embarked on a journey to reflect on life. Ford became a revolutionary figure of the automobile industry while Edison’s inventions changed the world in ways that Ford could hardly have imagined when they first met.

Edison’s health worsened during the 1920s, he had been suffering from many illnesses but still continued to work in his West Orange laboratory. Ford offered financial and emotional support and was one of the last people to visit Edison before Thomas died in 1931.

Ford wrote:

"It is a great loss, not only to us, but to the whole world. Edison was a man who believed in progress and the power of human imagination. I have always thought of him as one of the greatest minds America has ever known."

Yes, Edison was a world-changing man who was interested in many things, including wireless telegraphy. He even received a patent for the early version of wireless telegraph before Guglielmo Marconi’s breakthrough in the history of radio. But Edison was more focused on the DC (direct current) and even though he was highly competitive, Thomas never fought with Marconi about radio patents. Instead of competing with Marconi, Edison chose war with George Westinghouse. 

In the meantime Tesla was involved both in the radio patents war and AC/DC war. Tesla felt as if Marconi stole his ideas or copied his patents about wireless transmission through radio frequency. Marconi was awarded in 1904 which Tesla felt bitter about, especially since he had the curse of not being recognised by the public. But then in 1943 it was acknowledged that many of Marconi’s innovations were based on Tesla’s earlier work. Unfortunately Tesla died earlier that year. 

And if we talk about the AC/DC war, Tesla was rooting for AC (alternative current), so was Westinghouse. Westinghouse hired Tesla in the 1880s to work on improving the AC and together they successfully competed against Edison. 

"War of Currents" is the most famous rivalry in the history of science and technology.

Edison thought that DC was safer and easier to control. “We will make electricity so cheap that only the rich will burn candles” he said. But Edison’s success was limited by the nature of DC itself, it required power stations to be built very close to where the electricity was used. Tesla, on the other hand, created the AC system that could transmit electricity over long distances, unlike DC.

"I don’t believe that the electric current will ever be the one to be destroyed, I am confident that my system will triumph". And Tesla was right about it.

If you've read this far, you likely share a similar reaction:

------------------The AE hcs------------------

Planck took Ein, Schrödinger, and Bohr (let’s change Niels name to Ellen) under her wing. Emma corresponded with her colleagues, mathematicians and astrophysicists, to help Lieserl prove her theory. It was decided to send Lieserl to London where she studied under Eddington and greatest mathematicians of the time. She eventually stayed at the College, continuing her research there. Meanwhile, Schrödinger and Bohr stayed in the NA branch. At some point Schrodinger escaped Bohr to rehab to finish her work in peace and quiet and Bohr, being bohr-ed out of her mind, entered her mentor era and met Heisenberg. Together, they developed the Copenhagen Interpretation - unfortunately for Schrödinger who returned around then and immediately regretted it. Ellen and Lieserl had a deep passion for cosmology that Emma had introduced them to during the early years of mentoring them. Ellen would often engage in long passionate debates with Ein about the nature of the universe. Her fascination with the cosmos wasn’t the only strong forte of hers for she also loved discussing Indian mythology with Tesla, and at times, Schrödinger would get dragged into these discussions as well. On the other hand, Nancy’s father had been a lifelong friend of Ford and not only her family owned Ford cars but also, after Thomas’s passing, Ford supported Nancy both financially and emotionally. This was crucial as Nancy had inherited the biggest influential company of the country. With Ford’s mentorship, she was able to step into her new role with confidence.

-----------------------------------------------

If someone has more hcs, please be welcome

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

Prev - Next Chapter

"What's the date. Exactly," Five said, dropping a wooden cutting board on the table.

"March, the twenty-fourth," Y/N replied, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

The skinny boy came back over with a loaf of bread. He paused, looking at Y/N for a bit before looking back down at the bread. "Good."

Luther piped up from across Y/N, to Five's right, "So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" He didn't respond, keeping himself occupied with two slices he pulled out of the bag. Annoyed, Luther stood from his chair. "It's been seventeen years."

Five looked up at him sternly. "It's been a lot longer than that." He disappeared, only to reappear behind Luther, on a stool to reach the marshmallows on a higher shelf.

"I haven't missed that," Luthur mumbled.

"Where'd you go?" Diego asked, seeming a tad pissed himself.

"The future." He "jumped" back to the table. "It's shit by the way."

"Called it," Klaus cheered.

This time Five walked to grab the peanut butter. "I should've listened to the old man. Jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice." He glanced over at me again before laying his eyes on Klaus. "Nice dress."

The druggie made a noise. "Danke!"

"Wait, how did you get back?" Vanya asked.

"I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

"That makes no sense," Diego said.

"Makes sense to me." Y/N shrugged.

Without looking up, Five replied, "Thank you, Y/N." He leapt from his seat on the table, only to be held back by Luther.

"How long were you there?" Luther asked.

"Eh, maybe forty years years, give or take."

"That would make you… Fifty three years old," Y/N thought out-loud while the others remained silent in awe. She looked him up and down once more. "Mentally, right?"

"My consciousness is fifty, to be precise," he replied. "My body is apparently thirteen again." His eyes quickly traveled up and down. "You seem to be going through something similar."

"I'm physically fourteen." Was all Y/N said. The rest of her siblings didn't push her to elaborate, after all, her being alive was a sensitive topic to Y/N.

"Hold on," Vanya spoke up. "Y/N's situation makes sense. How did that work for you?"

Five only rolled his eyes. "Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh." He took a bite out of the disgusting sandwich. "Bet she's laughing now."

"Delores?" Y/N asked, intrigued. She pictured a curly grey haired woman nagging Five about things every day. It was almost comical.

He briefly glanced at Y/N before finding the newspaper with our "father's" death as the main headline. "Guess I missed the funeral."

"How'd you know about that?" Diego asked.

"I believe he said that he went into the future, Gogo." Y/N said to him.

"He died of heart failure, huh?" Five said absentmindedly.

"Yeah," Diego said.

"No," Luther butted in. Soon all eyes were turned to him.

"He thinks I killed him." Y/N crossed her arms, looking away and avoiding eye contact.

"I never said that!"

"Didn't deny it." Diego said.

"Oh, of course you're on her side."

Five stared at Y/N for a bit before mumbling, "Nice to see nothing's changed," as he left the room.

Allison turned. "That's it? That's all?"

"What more is there to say?" he asked without turning. "Circle of life."

Dad's remains were carried outside by Luther, who, as well as Diego, had no umbrella as the rain poured down on their small group.

Meanwhile, Y/N, Vanya, Allison, Five, and even Mom had black umbrellas as Klaus sported a clear one with Barbie-pink trim. It seemed fitting for him.

Mom looked at all of then. "What's wrong? Did I miss something?"

"Mom… Dad's dead," Allison said gently. "Don't you remember?"

"Oh, of course," she replied, frowning.

"Is… Is she alright?" Allison asked, leaning to look at Y/N down the row.

"She's perfectly okay," Diego insisted. "She just needs to... Recuperate. To charge or something."

Pogo walked up beside Vanya with a striped umbrella of his own, came in hand as he turned to face Luther. "Whenever you'd like to begin, Luther."

He took a hesitant step forward, popped the top of the urn off, and turned it upside-down. The dark, powdery contents of the jar fell to the ground unceremoniously. Klaus grimaced with a new cigarette in his hand. "Some wind might've made it… Better," the hulk of a man mumbled.

"Would anyone like to give a few words?" Pogo asked kindly. There was a heavy silence from everyone for a while. Even the teacher's pet himself kept his mouth shut tight.

Y/N looked at the statue of Ben with a sad frown, she didn't even get to go to his funeral… And than there was her statue. It was definitely… Something.

The statue of her had been placed next to Ben's, with her head looking down and her arms held up high, forming a cup with her hands. Dramatic as always...

Pogo stepped in. "He was a teacher, father, and friend. He will be missed more than can be expressed." His little sad smile remained on his little sad face.

Diego rolled his eyes. "He was a terrible person. Reginald Hargreeves was a walking disaster and hurt everyone he came into contact with. We're better off with him dead."

Allison interjected, "Diego - "

"He named me Number Two," he stated gruffly. "And that's because that bastard couldn't bother to give us real names. He made Mom do it instead."

Mother randomly asked, "Is anyone hungry? I could whip up some snacks?"

"No, it's fine, Mother," Y/N smiled at her.

"If you say so." She seemed almost dejected.

"I'll… Maybe you could make me a sandwich…" Y/N quickly said, "I wouldn't mind one of those. After all, it's sort of nostalgic." Mother smiled and nodded. She was acting… Off…

Diego moved towards the ashes. "Look, you wanna be polite and give some words? Fine by me. But at least spare all the lies about how much of a 'good person' he was."

"Diego, shut your mouth," Luther said lowly.

"Diego… I'm not sure this is a good idea." Y/N said.

The knife-wielder rounded on him. "You of all people should be agreeing with me, Number One. Years of being his little pet, after everything, he still shipped you all the way to the Moon."

"Shut up!" he hissed.

"That's how much he couldn't bear being around you!" Luther snapped. The two started brawling, Pogo at one point pleading them to stop. Klaus moved protectively in front of Five, who shoved him aside. Y/N quietly stood on the other side of Vanya, in front of Ben's statue, watching the scene unfold.

This seemed familiar, like it happened before. The fighting, the yelling, the cheering… It was all so familiar like a balloon that Y/N had lost to the wind and desperately tried to grab back. Diego started to gain what looked like an upper hand.

Vanya begged the both of them to stop, while Klaus was begging them to continue, cheering like a rabid sports fan.

Pogo huffed and slunk back inside as Diego started shouting encouragement at Luther. The former was then thrown by the latter before getting held in a chokehold.

"Get off me!" Diego wheezed. Luther was knocked off and Diego staggered closer to the statue.

"This is utterly pointless," Five muttered as he turned to leave before turning and grabbing my hand, "I need to talk to you."

"You're telling me, that I end the world?" Y/N asked in disbelief as Five jumped around looking for a coffee mug.

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying that when I ended up a few hours after the apocalypse-"'

"Which is in a few days."

"Which is in a few days. I found this." Five stopped and held up a glass eyeball. "And one of these." Five then dug through his pocket to find a few pieces of chipped porcelain.

Y/N froze, as she saw the cracked pieces and shut down almost immediately as she saw the pieces. Her hands shook and she steadied them on the table with a shaky breath.

Five placed his hand on her shoulder and she snapped her head towards him, quickly clearing her throat.

"I found it in Luthur's hand. As well as the glass eye." Five said, jumping around once again before finding a coffee mug. "If it's not you, then we need to find the owner of the glass eye."

"Hold on, 'we'? We as in our siblings right?" Y/N asked. Five shook his head.

"They're all imbeciles, I need someone who can keep up with me. And I need you to stay around me." Five said, "Keeping you around me may prevent the end of the world.

"I… Think I'm going to take that as a compliment." Y/N said as Klaus and Allison walked in the room. Five dug through the shelves curiously, probably in search of some coffee.

"Where's Vanya?" Allison asked.

"She left a while ago." Y/N said.

"That's unfortunate." Five said before taking an empty container and placing it on the table, "An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, and not a single drop of coffee."

"Dad hated caffeine." Allison pointed out.

"Well, he hated children too and he had plenty of us." Klaus laughed, clutching onto a random electric guitar.

"I mean, he does have a point…" Y/N agreed with her brother.

"Aww… Y/N agrees with me…" Klaus let the guitar drop to the floor as he stumbled over to Y/N and gave her a big hug.

The porcelain girl smiled as Klaus collapsed onto her. "You’re so amazing…" Klaus sighed.

"I'm taking the car." Five left, "Y/N, c'mon."

"Where are you two going?" Klaus asked as Y/N managed to push him off of her and stand up from her seat to follow Five.

"To get a decent cup of coffee. And to talk." Five said with a 'duh' tone.

"Do you even know how to drive?" Allison asked, crossing her arms.

"I know how to do everything." Five said snarkly.

"I mean, I've got a drivers license." Y/N shrugged. Five and Y/N held hands as they both space jumped to the garage.

The girl shivered, "I'll never get used to that." She sighed as she sat in shot gun and Five sat in the drivers seat. After a few minutes of awkwardness, Y/N broke the silence. "So… Did you just learn how to drive during the apocalypse? Like, you were lucky to find a car and ended up teaching yourself?"

Five sighed as the car drove into the road, "And to think I missed your idiotic questions…"

"Aw, you missed me?” Y/N smirked.

The two of them pulled up to Griddy's Donuts, something Y/N was very familiar with.

The bell rang in her ear as a random stranger opened the door for the two of them. "Thank you." Y/N gave a smile to the stranger.

The duo both sat down at the table before another man sat down next to them, exhaling deeply as he took his cap off and started working on a… Crossword puzzle? Y/N didn't really know.

"Sorry, sink was clogged." An elderly waitress wearing pink smiled as she took out a pad of paper and pen, "So, what'll it be?"

"Uh, give me a chocolate eclair." The man said.

"Mhmm, sure. Can I get the kids a glass of milk or something?" The waitress asked.

"The kid wants coffee. Black." Five scoffed. Y/N gave the waitress a friendly smile.

"I'll have some tea." Y/N said.

"Cute kids." The waitress smiled slightly. Five fake smiles at her as she went to the back.

"Even if you're old, you still have to be nice to other people." Y/N said, turning to him, "After all, you're physically thirteen again. Not fifty."

"You're too nice, Y/N. Even for your own good." Five shook his head.

"At least I'm not rude all the time, you've always been a smart-ass." Y/N remarked.

Five looked at her before looking away, smiling slightly as he started a conversation with the man next to him. "Don't remember this place being such a shithole. I used to come here as a kid. Used to sneak out with my brothers and sisters and… Eat donuts 'till we puked. Simpler times, huh?"

"Uh… I suppose." The man said, clearly confused as to why a thirteen year old looking boy was talking like an old man.

The waitress came over to them, setting down their orders as the man offered to pay for the other two's drinks. "Thanks." Five said as he eyed the man's jacket, "You must know your way around the city."

"I hope so. I've been driving it for 20 years." The man said.

"Good. I need an address." Five said.

Y/N drummed her fingers on the counter, looking around at the familiar looking place. She smiled as she remembered there was one time where she had to carry both Ben and Klaus out of the cafe because they got too sick off of donuts.

Their father scolded her for an hour because she took the blame. God, that was a long night.

"When'd you start drinking tea?" Five asked, suddenly snapping her out of her trance.

"Well, I enjoy it more than water and soda." Y/N said, "But sometimes I like to drink coffee.”

Five nodded as Y/N felt his eyes on her. She shifted uncomfortably before the doorbell rang and tons of people filed in.

Since she was facing the other way, she could see that they had guns. She vaguely remembered Diego saying guns were for sissies. Heh, simpler times.

"Hm… I thought they'd have more time before they found me." Five said calmly, setting his coffee mug down.

"You're gonna explain later, Five." Y/N frowned.

"Don't worry, I will." Five said.

"Let's all be professional about this, okay? On your feet and come with us. They wanna talk." The man with the gun pointing to Five's head said.

"I've got nothing to say."

"It doesn't have to go this way." The man said. "You think I wanna shoot a kid? And go back home with that on my conscience?"

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that." Five sighed as he turned to the man pointing the gun at him, "You won't be going home."

Five looked to Y/N and blinked twice. She blinked twice back as Five slowly picked up a knife and space jumped, stabbing the man in the shoulder.

Y/N quickly got up and reached for her pocket, searching for her garrote. Tightening it, she ran up behind a person and slammed them on the ground, effectively choking them before they passed out.

Y/N grunted as a bullet grazed through her side. She hissed at the pain. Five watched her get shot before bashing someone's head on the ground.

Y/N threw a fork and it landed into a man’s eye. She sighed as she felt a burning sensation in her side, dammit, she thought that her dad made her skin impenetrable. So much for that bullshit.

"Hey, Y/N! Leave it to me!" Five smiled as blood splattered onto the floor.

Y/N nodded, holding her side and coughing harshly. She grimaced before tearing her sleeve and wrapping it around her waist as a makeshift bandage.

As the lights flashed rapidly and Five finished off the rest of the attackers, Y/N hopped off the table to join Five, who had finished cutting his arm and digging out a small tracker.

"So… Did you want to come to my place? I mean, I think we have to deal with that injury sooner or later." Y/N suggested as they walked out of the diner.

"No, can't risk it at your place. Let's go to Vanya's." Five said. Y/N frowned.

"Are you sure? I mean-"

"You're injured." Was all Five said. Y/N, as if on cue, winced as she remembered the bullet wound.

"I've-" Y/N coughed, "-Had worse. I'm sure it'll heal like the rest."

"It could get infected." Five said matter-of-factly. Y/N shrugged.

"I guess I can tend to it later. Right now, we need to get to Vanya's place." She said, "We're taking the car, right?"

"Why do that when we can just-" Five grabbed her hand and space jumped into an alleyway.

"Shit! Again, you've got to warn me." Y/N said as he chuckled slightly.

"Sorry." Five said, giving her a smug smirk as he climbed up the side of a building.

"How'd you find out where Vanya lives?" Y/N asked, following him up.

"Sources." Five said as he opened the window to the second floor. Y/N sighed as she followed him.

The room was fairly clean, as expected from Vanya. There was a small kitchenette and a violin sitting on a wooden chair.

Five sat on a plush grandma chair and Y/N sat beside him in another. Five and Y/N heard keys click as the door opened. Five clicked the lamp on to reveal… Vanya. "Jesus!" She said in surprise.

"You should have locks on your windows." Five commented.

"I live on the second-floor." Vanya said, flicking the light switch on to bring some more light to the dark apartment.

"Rapists can climb." Five said.

"Five, that's not…" Y/N's voice trailed off as the stinging in her side made her body feel like it was on fire.

"You are so weird." Vanya said, closing the door and taking off her shoes and coat.

[wolfertinger]

im fascinated by wis using salem's Blackness as a socially acceptable way to be a culture vulture and arbitor of race.

thanks for deciding that all wp mixed ppl are white because uhhhh ummmm youre polish and they called you cracker. thats really cool that you want a "not like us (transgender version)" do you think that the Black man that wrote a song about how gross pedophilia and antiblackness is would be on your side? everybody remembers when you kept using "feller" like you were ITCHING to say a slur you just werent allowed to. or all those times you called people of color nazis after you were raised by nazis and adopted their ideals. or when you called a mexican person a dog.

but then, we've all got to remember, she's dating a Black person she's never met in real life and living in a 90% white country, she knows racism. i wouldnt have a problem with them having an ldr and never meeting IF i knew for a fact that wis knew other Black ppl irl. or poc in general, but specifically Black ppl. more specifically, Black friends. if the only Black person you talk to on a regular basis is your, self admitted, culturally white boyfriend, i dont believe you when you say youre not racist anymore. hell, if you dont believe wp people are poc, i wont count them as friends of color you talk to regularly.

especially when you take umbrage with ppl who come from cultures of color for not being nice enough to you. not being a good enough victim. not being willing to prove every incredibly personal and private detail of their blood quantum and family history for some white cunt online who wishes them dead every few minutes.

i know this is pointless, because once racist, always a racist, but examine your externalized biases. you dont have internalized ones, since youre white and dont have a thought you keep to yourself, but stop acting like all poc have to be nice to you to earn your respect. thats.... como se dice.... racist.

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