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nephalem-da · 11 months ago

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Elara’s Playdate

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Bill Cipher drops off his mischievous baby daughter, Elara, with the unsuspecting Pines family while he celebrates his anniversary. Chaos quickly unfolds as the Pines struggle to control the demonic toddler, leading to the complete wreckage of the Mystery Shack.

The Mystery Shack was unusually quiet as the Pines family enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Mabel was doodling in her scrapbook, Dipper was buried in a journal, Stan was counting money behind the counter, and Ford was studying an ancient artifact. It was a day like any other—or so they thought.

A sudden surge of energy rippled through the shack, making the lights flicker. Before anyone could react, a portal opened in the middle of the room, swirling with bright colors. The Pines family jumped to their feet, immediately on guard. Stan reached for his brass knuckles, Mabel grabbed her grappling hook, and Ford quickly pulled out his ray gun.

Out of the portal stepped none other than Bill Cipher, but this time, he wasn’t alone. In his arms was a small, light purple triangle with a single eye and a giggle that could only be described as mischievously adorable.

“Hey, nerds!” Bill greeted with a wide grin, ignoring the fact that the Pines were ready to attack. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I’m not here to cause trouble—well, not for the next few hours, at least.”

“Bill!” Dipper exclaimed, stepping forward, his journal clutched tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? And… what is that?”

“This, Pine Tree, is my darling daughter, Elara.” Bill’s voice was almost proud as he looked down at the giggling little triangle in his arms. “Isn’t she just the cutest little reality-warper you’ve ever seen?”

The Pines family was stunned into silence. Ford, who had been studying Bill intently, looked the most shocked. “A child? But… how is that possible?”

Bill chuckled, seemingly enjoying their confusion. “Oh, it’s possible, Sixer. Just because you haven’t figured it out yet doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Anyway, it’s me and Mae’s anniversary today, and we’ve got some cosmic chaos planned. But we can’t exactly take our bundle of joy with us, now can we?”

Before anyone could protest, Bill floated over to Mabel and gently placed Elara in her arms. The little triangle cooed, looking up at Mabel with wide, innocent eyes. Mabel’s heart melted instantly, despite the fact that this was Bill Cipher’s offspring.

“Mabel, sweet shooting star, you’re in charge of her while we’re out,” Bill said, his tone suddenly serious. “If anything happens to my precious Elara, well… let’s just say you’ll find out there are fates worse than being turned into a sock puppet.”

Mabel gulped but nodded, unable to resist the adorable cooing of Elara. “Don’t worry, Bill! I’ll take good care of her.”

“Good!” Bill grinned, satisfied. “Mae sends her regards, by the way. And with that, I’m off!”

With a snap of his fingers, Bill disappeared back into the portal, which closed behind him with a flash of light, leaving the Pines family in stunned silence once again. Elara wriggled in Mabel’s arms, making a soft, happy noise that was almost too cute for words.

“Did that just happen?” Dipper finally asked, still trying to process what had just occurred.

“Yes,” Ford replied, his voice filled with disbelief. “Yes, it did.”

“Well, we can’t just leave it—her—alone,” Mabel said, looking down at Elara, who was now sucking on one of her tiny points as if it were a thumb. “She’s too adorable!”

Stan grumbled, crossing his arms. “Adorable or not, that thing is still Bill Cipher’s kid. I say we toss it back into whatever dimension it came from.”

“No way, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel protested, holding Elara protectively. “She’s just a baby. And besides, if Bill finds out we didn’t take care of her, who knows what he’ll do!”

Dipper sighed, knowing Mabel was right. “Okay, so what do we do? How do we take care of a… a baby triangle?”

Ford adjusted his glasses, deep in thought. “We’ll have to treat her like any other child—keep her entertained, fed, and most importantly, keep her from using any of her powers.”

“Easier said than done,” Dipper muttered.

The day that followed was nothing short of chaotic. Elara, despite her innocent appearance, quickly proved to be a handful. She had a knack for getting into trouble, whether it was floating up to the ceiling to play with the light fixtures, or phasing through walls to explore hidden rooms in the shack.

At one point, Stan tried to distract her with some toys, only for Elara to accidentally turn them into living creatures that began to wreak havoc in the living room. It took all of Dipper’s quick thinking and Mabel’s grappling hook to catch the rogue toys and return them to their inanimate state.

“Who knew babysitting a demonic triangle would be this hard?” Mabel panted, wiping sweat from her brow as she and Dipper corralled the last of the animated toys.

Elara giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos she had caused, while Stan looked like he was about ready to pull his hair out.

By the time the day was over, the Mystery Shack was in complete disarray. Furniture was overturned, pipes were leaking, and Stan’s prized taxidermy collection had been knocked over. The Pines family was utterly exhausted, sprawled out on the floor around Elara, who was now contently gnawing on a rubber duck Mabel had given her.

As the sun set, another portal opened in the middle of the room. Bill floated through, looking as pleased as ever, with Mae following close behind. The Pines family groaned, too tired to even get up.

“Well, well, well!” Bill exclaimed, surveying the wreckage with a laugh. “Looks like little Elara had a great time! Didn’t you, sweetie?”

Elara cooed happily, floating up into her father’s arms. Mae, who had been silently observing, shook her head with a small, amused smile. “Honestly, Bill, you could’ve warned them about how energetic she is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bill winked at her before turning back to the Pines. “You all did a decent job keeping her in one piece, so I guess I’ll keep my promise.”

“Promise?” Stan grumbled, struggling to sit up. “What promise?”

“I promised I might stop messing with you for a week if you kept her safe,” Bill said with a smirk. “Consider it your lucky break.”

Mabel, despite being utterly exhausted, couldn’t help but smile at Elara. “She really is cute, though.”

Mae floated over to Mabel, a soft expression on her face. “Thank you for looking after her, Mabel." She patted her head, "I knew I could count on you."

Mabel giggled as she handed Elara to Mae's outstretched hands, "Your welcome!"

Bill looked down at the Pines family one last time. “Well, it’s been fun, but we’ve got to get going. Mae, Elara, let’s roll!”

As the portal reopened, Bill and Mae floated through with Elara in tow. Just before the portal closed, Bill turned back with a mischievous grin. “See you around, nerds! And remember, don’t miss me too much!”

With that, the portal closed, leaving the Pines family in the wrecked remains of the Mystery Shack, utterly exhausted but strangely content.

Ford looked around at the chaos and let out a weary sigh. “I suppose we should be grateful that’s all they did."

Dipper nodded in agreement, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, but I have a feeling this won’t be the last time we see them.”

Mabel, still holding the gem Mae had given her, smiled to herself. “I kind of hope not. Elara was pretty fun, in a weird, terrifying way.”

Stan groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “You kids are nuts. I need a nap.”

As the Pines family slowly began to clean up the mess, they couldn’t shake the feeling that their lives had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But then again, when it came to Gravity Falls, nothing was ever simple.

#bill cipher x oc #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls oc #self insert #the book of bill #bill cipher #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines #oc x canon #canon x oc

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apod · 7 months ago

Photo

2024 December 31

The Twisted Disk of NGC 4753 Image Credit: NASA, ESA, Hubble; Processing: Alexander Reinartz

Explanation: What do you think this is? Hereâ€™s a clue: it's bigger than a bread box. Much bigger. The answer is that pictured NGC 4753 is a twisted disk galaxy, where unusual dark dust filaments provide clues about its history. No one is sure what happened, but a leading model holds that a relatively normal disk galaxy gravitationally ripped apart a dusty satellite galaxy while its precession distorted the plane of the accreted debris as it rotated. The cosmic collision is hypothesized to have started about a billion years ago. NGC 4753 is seen from the side, and possibly would look like a normal spiral galaxy from the top. The bright orange halo is composed of many older stars that might trace dark matter. The featured Hubble image was recently reprocessed to highlight ultraviolet and red-light emissions.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap241231.html

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whereserpentswalk · 26 days ago

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Angels are beings of pure cosmic order. They exist in opposition to most other cosmic entities, considering demons, fae, gods, and elder things to all be their enemies. They exist purely to uphold the laws of the multiverse, protecting the laws of physics and upholding reality, occasionally keeping breaks in reality at bay.

Because angels are very hard to make from scratch they tend to recruit other entities into their ranks. They'll take from anything, though they tend to prefer to incorporate entities that are weaker then themselves as a way of keeping them under control. To incorporate an entity they can't simply change their allegiance, they must fully transform them into an angel, destroying their identity as anything other then angelic.

We know the most about humans who've been turned into angels. Partially because humans are common in the multiverse, having convergently evolved countless times, and partially because humans make easy targets. Sometimes they'll prey on humans from universes with limited knowledge of the supernatural, sometimes they'll prey on humans from cultures that worship angels, sometimes they'll recruit humans curious about magic.

Physically transforming into an angel can be a horrifying process. It sounds liberating, and mabye for some it is, but it's a destruction of so much of one's self. All your smallest flaws, everything someone could consider an imperfection, is stripped away, anything about your face that's considered ugly, anything about your body type that's considered unusual, any scars or tattoos or signs of age or markings that tell the story of your life, it all goes away. You'll find yourself looking in the mirror and you aren't yourself anymore. You're like someone else's idea of a better, more easily digestible you. Even things you might have hated will be gone, but your self will go with it. Most people who want to be that perfect blond haired blue eyed doll are shocked when they realize that their face is no longer their own.

Not to mention what they change about you to make you less human. They take away your reproductive organs, your digestive system, your need for sleep. Even your ability to feel pain or to cry is taken. Depending on what role you're given you might not even be humanoid anymore. Your body will no longer exist for yourself, anything that doesn't serve the higher goals of angelkind is stripped from you, regardless of if you want it to be taken from you or not.

And the most terrifying part is the loss of free will. You will be assigned to whatever role is thought to be most useful for you. You'll be cosmicly powerful but your powers will only have the uses you're meant to. And it doesn't matter if you like the job you're given or not, what's supposed to matter is what you're good at, and if you don't like what you're good at then you're screwed. Even your very body and your powers were meant to do one thing and one thing only. You might see the multiverse, you might get to talk to people, you might find out more about magic, but it will never be for yourself.

And the worst part is the loss of free will. The one thing every other being in the multiverse has, will be gone from you. You cannot disobey orders. And even when your lack of free will isn't directly effecting you, you will always feel it, always understand that you are truly no longer your own person. Even when you're just sitting there you can never really know if it's your choice to do what you're doing or not. And everyone you interact with, you'll understand that if the evoke the right rules they can force you to do exactly as they please with enough creativity.

People always say that they wish they could just have a single purpose that they know. But to truly have that can be horrifying. No wonder so many fall.

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nerdydaydreamer · 1 month ago

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Morpheus Gets His Hair Done

MASTERLIST

The throne room in the Castle of the Dreaming, usually a place of solemnity and hushed reverence, was today more akin to a particularly chaotic salon. Morpheus, Lord of the Dreaming, found himself in an unprecedented predicament.

It had begun innocently enough. Lyra, a mortal woman he had encountered during a particularly vivid nightmare about rogue alarm clocks, had somehow… lingered. She possessed an unnerving blend of utter fearlessness and disarming practicality.

“Your hair,” Lyra had stated earlier, without preamble, as he sat upon his obsidian throne, contemplating the fate of a dream involving a sentient toaster. “It’s magnificent. Like spun night. But honestly, it looks a bit… unkempt. Have you ever considered a deep conditioner?”

Morpheus had merely blinked. “My hair is not ‘unkempt,’ mortal. It is an extension of the Dreaming itself, a manifestation of cosmic energy and the very fabric of reality.”

“Right, right, cosmic energy, blah blah blah,” Lyra had waved a dismissive hand. “Still looks like you slept on it wrong for about a thousand years. Just let me touch it. It’s for science. Or, you know, just to see if it feels as soft as it looks.”

“Absolutely not,” Morpheus had intoned, his voice resonating with the authority of countless millennia. “My hair is not for… touching. It is not some trivial plaything for mortal curiosity. It is the very essence of my being; to tamper with it would be to invite… unforeseen consequences.”

Lyra had merely raised an eyebrow. “Oh, shut up and let me do it.”

And now, here they were. Morpheus, King of Dreams, who had faced down gods, demons, and the very abyss, found himself seated, rather uncomfortably, on a stool in front of Lyra. His perpetually serious expression was warring with a faint, almost imperceptible twitch in his left eye.

“Just sit still, Mr. Cosmic Drama,” Lyra commanded, pulling another stool closer. She produced a comb from somewhere – a mundane plastic comb that looked utterly absurd against the backdrop of swirling nebulae and shimmering dream-stuff that made up Morpheus’s essence. “Honestly, for someone who dictates the entire unconscious existence, you’re surprisingly fidgety.”

Morpheus stiffened. “I am not fidgety. I am… tolerating. This is an unprecedented intrusion into my personal… cosmic space.”

Lyra ignored him, her fingers, surprisingly gentle, reaching for his hair. A frisson of unusual energy, not unlike static electricity but far more profound, emanated from his locks. She frowned. “Okay, yeah, it’s a little… buzzy. Like touching a very well-charged thundercloud. But not in a bad way. Just… invigorating.”

She began to run the comb through his hair, a process that should have been impossible, given its ethereal nature. Yet, it yielded to her touch. A faint, almost musical hum filled the air as she worked.

“See?” she murmured, expertly sectioning off a piece. “Not so bad, is it? You’re just so dramatic about everything. ‘Cosmic power!’ ‘Unforeseen consequences!’ It’s just hair, Morpheus. Really nice hair, by the way. Feels like… like a galaxy of silk. Do you ever get split ends?”

Morpheus remained silent, his gaze fixed on a distant, shimmering castle, as if willing himself to be anywhere but here. He felt… odd. Not weakened, not harmed, but… different. A strange, almost pleasant sensation was spreading through his scalp.

“Right, so we’re going to do a simple three-strand braid here,” Lyra announced, her voice cheerful and entirely too casual for the cosmic significance of the moment. “Nothing too fancy for your first time. We can work up to fishtails once you’re more comfortable with the whole ‘mortal touching your being’ thing. Oh, and for a really sleek finish, you’d want to use a light leave-in conditioner first. Something with argan oil or jojoba, just a tiny pump, spread it through your palms, and then smooth it down. It’ll add shine without weighing it down. And if you’re worried about frizz, especially with all that… cosmic energy… a humidity-blocking serum is your best friend. A little goes a long way, just a pea-sized amount, rub it between your hands, and lightly coat the outer layer. See? That’ll keep those little wisps in place.”

As her fingers expertly wove strands of starlight and shadow, Morpheus found himself questioning… everything. The immutability of his being. The sanctity of his person. The sheer, audacious nerve of this mortal woman. And yet, a tiny, almost imperceptible part of him, a part he hadn't known existed, found itself… intrigued. The rhythmic motion, the gentle tug, the entirely un-cosmic scent of… lavender? Had she sprayed something?

Suddenly, a quiet gasp.

Both Morpheus and Lyra froze. Standing in the doorway, eyes wide, was Lucienne, the Librarian of the Dreaming. Her perpetually serious face was a mask of utter disbelief. She stared, her gaze flicking between Lyra’s hands in Morpheus’s hair and the single, perfect braid now nestled against his temple. Not a sound escaped her lips. Then, with a silent, almost balletic pivot, she turned and walked straight out of the room, leaving behind an echoing silence that was far more profound than any noise she could have made.

“Anyways,” Lyra continued, as if Lucienne’s silent judgment was merely a momentary distraction, “the key to a good braid is even tension. You don’t want it too tight, or it’ll pull, but not too loose either, or it’ll fall out. And then, at the end, just a tiny bit of a finishing spray – nothing crunchy, you want something flexible. My personal favorite is the ‘Dream Weaver Hold Mist’ – smells like vanilla and ambition, which would be perfect for someone like you who probably has a lot of ambition for his… dreams.”

She stepped back, admiring her work. A small, neat braid now nestled against Morpheus’s temple, catching the ambient light of the Dreaming. It looked utterly ridiculous, entirely out of place, and yet…

Morpheus slowly reached up, his fingers brushing against the braided section. It felt… solid. Real. And strangely… comfortable.

“Well?” Lyra prompted, hands on her hips. “Don’t look so constipated. It suits you. Very… approachable. Maybe now you’ll actually listen when I tell you to try a less dramatic cape.”

Dream of the Endless, Lord of the Somber Visage, found himself, for the first time in countless ages, without a suitable retort. He looked at the braid, then at Lyra, who was beaming with the triumph of a victorious general.

He had expected cosmic backlash, a tearing of the fabric of reality, perhaps even a minor apocalypse. Instead, he had a braid. And an unsettling feeling that his life, and his entire existence, had just taken a decidedly unexpected, and remarkably well-groomed, turn. He rose from the stool, the braid swaying gently with the movement, and began to walk, with a newly acquired, if subtle, spring in his step, towards the throne room's grand exit.

“Thankfully,” Morpheus murmured, almost to himself, his voice a low rumble, as he stepped out into the corridor, “she didn’t see me in my long hair phase.”

“What?!” Lyra shrieked, scrambling to hurry after him.

#morpheus #the sandman #dream of the endless #dream #morpheus x reader #king of dreams

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mysticstronomy · 11 months ago

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CAN WE MAKE A BLACK HOLE IN A LAB??

Blog#426

Saturday, August 10th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Black holes are notoriously difficult to study, as they are both far away and so massive that not even light can escape.

So, scientists from the University of Nottingham created a “giant quantum vortex” using a helium superfluid with 500 times less viscosity than water.

These Earth-bound vortices could help experts understand black holes—or even inch closer to a Grand Unified Theory.

Observing a black hole is a bit of an oxymoron. After all, our eyes require photons to make sense of the world, and seeing as photons (aka light) can’t escape a black hole, the whole “observing” thing becomes pretty impossible pretty quickly.

But over the decades, scientists have developed techniques to study black holes by observing their effects on surrounding matter. And now, scientists from the University of Nottingham in the U.K. have developed a novel new approach to studying these hugely important—yet observationally elusive—celestial objects.

By using superfluid helium (with a viscosity 500 times lower than water), the researchers managed to create a quantum simulator by placing the helium in a tank with a spinning propeller.

Due to the extremely low-friction and vortex-like environment, this particular helium begins exhibiting “unusual quantum effects,” according to New Scientist. These effects allowed the team the team to observe black hole-like phenomena, such as “ringdown mode” and cosmic fields interacting with the gravitational vortices. Their latest work was published on the preprint server arXiv in 2023, and was last revised this past November. The paper has yet to be peer-reviewed.

“Physics repeats itself in many places. It’s a set of mathematical models that are very universal. And if the maths is the same, the physics ought to be the same,” University of Nottingham’s Silke Weinfurtner told The Guardian last year. “To me, the analogues are a gift from nature. There is a whole class of systems that possess the same physical processes.”

Understanding black holes is imperative from both an astronomical and a general physics perspective. That’s for a few reasons, but namely because black holes are hugely important in regards to the formation of the universe, and because the objects are where Albert Einstein’s well-worn General Relativity and the time-tested Quantum Field Theory appear to contradict each other.

And if there’s one thing scientists hate, it’s contradictions.

While the diameter of Sagittarius A* (that’s the supermassive black hole at the center of our Milky Way galaxy) stretches some 14.6 million miles in diameter, these human-made quantum vortices are decidedly puny—only a few millimeters across. But their diminutive size is actually much larger than previous vortices created from quantum fluids.

Originally published on https://www.popularmechanics.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, August 14th, 2024)

"DOES TIME STOP IN A BLACK HOLE??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography

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choccy-zefirka · 5 months ago

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Lo! A second Rogue Trader to smooch Abelard while he's kneeling in front of her! (Thank you @leadflowers for letting me toss Plot Bunnies of Unusual Size at you)

The human mind is a fascinating thing. Especially the mind of a psyker.

Granted, Lumen has not always had this... proclivity for setting things on fire by staring at them. Not since childhood anyway. Throne, no; she's nothing like the poor little souls on the Black Ships.

Something shifted in her, something sharp and agonizing like exposed bone in a wound, when she was well into her adulthood (though a lady never tells her age). That odd, ever-hungry, ever-thrashing part of her likely never would have woken up at all, if her old smuggler crew hadn't messed with a xenos artefact that one time.

But psyker or not, she has always been quite brilliant, if she says so herself. Her mind has held fast through whatever the void decided to throw at her.

She’s always been able to think on her feet. She’s always had quick retort on her tongue, and a Plan B, Plan C, Plan D ceaselessly weaving itself at the back of her mind — just in case her bullets or her brand-new witchcraft ever failed her. And she has survived it all. Her men's betrayal. The vice grip of the Inquisition agents they'd ratted her out to. The searing whirlwind of lashings, mental and physical, before her sanctioning. The viper's den she was tossed in, when the blood samples the Inquisition had collected from her revealed she was a long-lost von Valancius. Heiress to a dynasty of cosmic proportions; bearer of a Warrant that, by will of the Emperor Himself, entrusted her with the fate of entire planets.

She’ll be the first to admit that it’s taken quite a bit of mental fortitude — deciding how to run colonies inhabited by billions of souls. She needs even more plans now — Plan E, Plan F, Plan G — because at a moment’s notice, at a drop of an Imperial officer’s hat, she might be asked to decide which lives to spare and which to sacrifice for the supposed greater good. And she’ll be expected to smile all the while. To remain ever graceful, ever charming, gliding among her adoring subjects with a gentle rustle of the finest shimmering fabric. Back straight as a rod. Gaze unflinching. Fingers — cast in metal over the upper phalanx, radiant with gilding — resting in an elegant half-gesture over the steel-boned slope of her frock.

Abelard's etiquette lessons did not go to waste. She absorbed them all.

And in the process, she only allowed herself to be... a little distracted — oh, merely a couple of times — by how adorable he looked when he was reciting all those rules. Which, of course, he had to be informed of, in her sweetest, most playful tone. If there is one thing she cannot resist (aside from tiny pastries), it's being playful with her darling, deliciously prim Seneschal.

Still. The little giggle at the soft bloom of pink on his cheeks and throat was but a momentary diversion. Her mind remained hard at work all the while. Yes, even when she was making a flower arrangement in her new quarters and tapped a rose bud softly against Abelard's nose. She never stopped going over what he told her, in between the (rather weak) protestations of "Lord Captain!". She never stopped memorizing what a perfect Rogue Trader should be like.

Once a pallid, grubby child from a hive world's lowest sunless pits, she may not have enjoyed a noble upbringing, not like the other Cold Trade princess they have on board, the ever-delightful Jae Heydari — but she’s rectified that quickly. Her mind was her buoy in the murky waters of intergalactic politics and righteous Imperial service; and she emerged from every whirlpool on her path. Untouched — on the surface at least — by the muck at the whirlpool's bottom. Radiant, regal, a living statuette of gold.

She kept her wits about her even when the consequences of all her past choices loomed large over her — quite literally.

Oh, how her heart hammered for a moment, retreating into her ribcage's burrow like some trembling, twitchy thing that would scurry about among the refuse heaps on her childhood streets — when the first dance at her Magnae Accessio came to an end, and she had to switch partners.

Her first chosen companion was, of course, Abelard. She'd had him stand beside her at the preceding ceremony, and summoned him once more when the grand ball began. She'd researched the colors of House Werserian (Cassia helped; Lumen had never seen her so giddy) and, despite her usual preference for reds and golds, commissioned a dress in cooler shades. To match the liveries of the "upstart lowborns". Thus announcing, to anyone and everyone who paid attention to such things, that Abelard's kin — not quite former street rats like her, but still not good enough for the Mundus Valancius elite — had her favor. What are you going to do about it, Master Sauerback?

She did not get a good look at Abelard's face during her coronation, as she was too busy waving at the ecstatic masses and smiling the most impeccably measured smile in response to all the outraged glares from the "proper" aristocratic families. But she knew how much it meant to him. To be acknowledged for his service. To be brought forth before the whole planet, entrusted to guard her — not just amid roaring fires and screeching bullets and gurgling fountains of blood, but at a time of (relatively) peaceful celebration.

When she finally turned to meet his gaze, it was at the ball. As the master of ceremonies announced that the illustrious Lady Von Valancius was to lead the first dance, she chose her Seneschal again. With no hesitation, no pause in her ever-racing mind.

He looked more... lost than she had ever seen him, out of his armor, drowning in the honeyed glow of lumens — her little namesakes — that reflected off the polished marble floors. But one little shake of his head at her softly purred compliments ("Why, darling Seneschal, here I thought you couldn't get more handsome and distinguished!"), and he was back to his usual composed self. Hand on the small of her back. Feet moving to the rhythm of the music with an officer's resolve. Eyes tactfully averted from the rise and fall of Lumen's most flatteringly accentuated bosom.

This, too, was his duty, and when called to it, he did not fail to... perform. Yes, Lumen did make multiple jokes about that — until she didn't.

She sighs to herself, recollecting how her voice trailed off, and her very surroundings stood still, when she caught a glimpse of something most curious in her Seneschal's face. His features had softened — almost to the point of smiling.

"I do want you to enjoy yourself, Abelard," she said — chirped — to him. Meaning every word.

But before he could reply, the melody ended, and in the lull between the dances, another guest swooped in. A colossal shadow of flesh and metal, moving with the noiseless grace of a prowling predator. The consequences looming large indeed.

Lord Inquisitor Xavier Calcazar had arrived earlier than Lumen could have deduced from Heinrix's cryptic warnings. She'd imagined she'd find him lurking in her study once the festivities were over. Maybe even sitting at her desk like it was his. But there he was. Interrogating her about her travels through the Expanse, her so-called heretical inclinations — during a dance.

As he spoke, in an even, courteous voice that hid as many coiling wires as his augmented arm — he never stopped guiding her motions with his metal grip, twirling her in time with the music with even more precision than Abelard had... Until she stopped feeling like a person, and began to picture herself as a regicide piece that he was directing across the board. All part of an icy calculated strategy her mind had to strain to keep pace with.

But she did. Even as, internally, she was a hair's breadth from panicking, from dissolving into a screeching warpstorm of memories from her sanctioning — she did. She responded to all his questions with a cool politeness to match his own.

She survived her second brush with the Inquisition.

And even if the Lord Inquisitor had rattled her, that could be easily masked by accepting Calligos Winterscale's late-night challenge to a friendly drinking contest. Which she, incidentally, won.

All part of the plan.

Her mind has served her well. As a street urchin, a smuggler, an awakened psyker, a Rogue Trader. And now, too, it is doing its best, turning its finest cogs, to keep her shielded; keep her safe.

Obviously, she is still in Commorragh, probably stretched out, till her ligaments are about to snap, on that many-armed xenos' lab table, a cold sticky pool of her own blood clinging to her bare back and quickly drying into a slimy crust.

Soon, the creature will be back again, every hand bristling with saws, pincers, little curving knives.

Her skin will be grated into red-soaked sawdust and regrown again.

Her bones will be broken and healed, broken and healed, crackling like driftwood under xenos fingertips.

Her stomach will be carved into an opening and closing flap, like it's a chest of drawers with a pulsing mass of organs inside, for the creature to rummage in as if it had lost a sock (see, even now, her mind supplants her with humor; to keep her alive; to keep her defiant).

Her hair — her glossy strands of Aquila gold, her pride and joy (and, if combed sufficiently tall, an excellent place to hide a small gun) — will be torn out in soggy clumps, not as much for any specific experiments as for humiliation.

And so it shall continue, for infinity.

She will, of course, keep searching for ways to escape; to assemble blood-splattered puzzle pieces into a Plan H, Plan I, Plan J, all the way to Plan X, Y, Z. Her mind will strain as much, burn as much, as her mutilated limbs.

But that is yet to come. For now, for just a few hours of indulgence, her hardworking brain has decided to grant her a little reprieve. It has conjured an illusion for her; a haven to gather her strength in, before her torment begins anew.

In her mind, she is already back home — in realspace. She has even given herself false memories: a whole grand adventure; a chase after a dancing, leering shade in a theater mask. An explosion, a tumble through the rippling, surreal maze of the Webway... And a reunion with her subjects on Janus, where the xenos dimensional gate is still standing.

Quite a backstory for the theater of her mind to play out!

Right now, the scene is set on one of the white Janusian beaches. She imagines herself laying back on the glinting boundary between the dry sand and the lapping waves, underneath the gently swaying jungle trees. Relaxed and carefree. Idly leafing through her old memories like they were pages of a book.

The review she'd leave on the little volume would be mostly mixed — but the chapters with Abelard in them are her favorites... Could use a few more paragraphs about his scars, though. Maybe also a mention of how Lumen's heart would flutter whenever he’d speak of his family, with such affection and pride; such warmth — quite rare to see in him, and all the more precious for it. Or would that be too serious, too private for a light beach read?

Suddenly embarrassed, Lumen forcibly shifts her focus back to the pict-perfect landscape in her vision.

She is wearing nothing but a nightgown, her mind tells her, and the warm waves are washing over her body, pushing gently against her, making her slide to and fro in the shallows. A drowsy, serene bit of flotsam basking in the light of a sun that's properly affixed to a completely normal, soothingly (deceptively) blue sky.

There's a figure perched on a nearby rock. Wiry, long-limbed, with a sharp pale face and flowing crimson hair.

Oh, it’s *her*, is it?

To be quite honest, Lumen would rather not think of Yrliet right now: the pain from Drukhari torture is bad enough without trying to disentangle the spool of barbed wire that the xenos has spun in Lumen's mind.

Lumen von Valancius does not suffer traitors. But Yrliet is nothing like the men who sold her out. Lumen’s heart (for when she ascended on her throne, she decided she should still have one, under all the gilding) breaks for her friend's pain and guilt. But are they truly friends... Were they ever?

So yes. Yrliet's presence in Lumen’s daydreams rather disrupts her supposed bliss... Maybe her mind did not conjure her up; maybe the crafty xenos slipped in of her own accord. She knows how to do that.

She... She seems to be talking to her.

"Elantach, listen to me! This is no illusion! We did escape Commorragh, and we are now on Lilaethan. You must come to your senses!"

Lumen fixes her inner gaze upon Yrliet. Slowly, blearily, with a vague sensation that they have had this conversation before.

Interesting. "Come to her senses"? So, delve deeper into the illusion? Lose herself in it entirely? Tempting, but she cannot afford to do that. She has escape plans to work on.

She tells Yrliet as much.

"Oh, come now! You know it's just my own mind taking a little rest, before I blink and we are back in Commorragh again!"

Yrliet's response is a long, frustrated intake of air. Why exactly is she here? What is her goal? She hates Drukhari machinations, doesn't she? So why would she push so hard against Lumen waking up?

"There she is, sir! The retinue is mostly... recovering at the governor's palace, but Her Ladyship has, uh, wandered off."

"Watch your tongue! The Lord Captain would not just wander off! I am certain she had a perfectly good reason!"

Yrliet winces at the crackle of undergrowth under clumsy mon-keigh feet. Lumen, though, grins from ear to ear.

She knows that voice.

And naturally, her illusion of being home would not be complete without it. Hearing it again *is* being home.

"The reason is, elantach's mind is fractured," Yrliet says bluntly.

Her gaze is as burning, as intense, as unshakable as the laser point of her sniper rifle. It pierces, unblinking, through the two humans that have just stepped onto the beach out of the waist-high ferns — a panting, frantically apologetic enforcer, and Abelard, whose hand flies to his chainsword's hilt the instant he locks eyes with Yrliet.

"Explain," he barks.

His tone is almost as firm as Lumen remembers it... But something in the illusion seems to have gone wrong. Abelard's voice sounds thinner... Shakier somehow. Like he's a pale imitation of her Seneschal, drawn in an unsteady hand.

Lumen lifts herself up on her elbows, frowning. Abelard looks just as... off as he sounds. His unaugmented eye is sunken, rimmed with red, and the weathered, beautifully scarred skin seems to hang looser off his face, as if he had lost weight.

Even his trusty coat — whose warm, comforting weight Lumen felt on her bare shoulders on more than one occasion — is notably worse for wear. Like he'd neglected to wash it.

He has, however, kept the little lily brooch she made for him, in another life, far, far away from Commorragh... When her biggest concern was how to best stun her admirers and make her enemies squirm at the Magnae Accessio.

When doing research for an ecosystem revival project on Janus — seated in front of a cogitator in a frilly layered gown, surrounded by plush cushions, because a lady remains ladylike even when browsing old records with a tech priest’s help — Lumen found a most gorgeous pict of a local flower. The priest duly informed her that the entire species had been driven to extinction decades ago by farmland expansion. Enamored with the delicate flow of its silhouette, she reached out to the best jeweler that Jae's galaxy-spanning network of contacts could provide, and he brought the lost lily back to eternal life, crafting a pair of bespoke jewelry pieces. For her and her Seneschal to wear at her coronation… As another way for them to match: her in his house's colors, him with her lily. And another way to remind the highborn that this filthy commoner was her right hand.

She still remembers the look he gave her when she first presented him with the brooch. A gasp of air escaped his lungs, like she'd speared him straight through his heart; and there was... a glimmer of recognition in his eye. She was quick to realize that an old echo from his past was coming back to haunt him. For a moment, her pict-perfect display of queenly grace nearly dissolved into messy blotches, into leaking, muddled colors of panic, straight from under Cassia's brush. She wondered if she'd committed a faux pas, if she'd inadvertently reminded him of something best left buried.

But when he spoke to her, his voice — for the fleeting few seconds before he collected himself — was trembling with quiet awe.

"Truly," he said breathlessly, "The Emperor works in mysterious ways... Thank you, Lord Captain. I serve at your pleasure."

She was so struck by his tone, she completely forgot to make a quip about there being all kinds of pleasure he was surely not too old for... And he has never parted with the lily brooch since.

Even now, in her vision of him on the beach, it glimmers ruby and gold against the dark grime on his coat. While his sword hand tightens, white-knuckled, around his weapon, his other hand keeps travelling to the metal lily. Feeling its contours. Adjusting it. Again and again and again. The motion is so persistent, so repetitive, that it has all but turned into a nervous tic.

In fact, as she squints and cranes her neck forward, Lumen realizes that fiddling with the brooch has dug raw, reddish grooves into Abelard's fingertips.

Her blood runs cold — in a way that has nothing to do with the sea water splashing around her, or the breeze on her skin.

Why would she imagine this little detail? Or the deep, bruised half-moon under his eye? The new lines of exhaustion on his forehead and around his mouth? Why would her own mind be so... uncharitable to Abelard? To the man whose face she summoned from the heaving marshes of delirium, to guide her, to ground her, when she was stumbling through the Commorragh streets, fresh from the corpse pile?

Meanwhile, the little illusory scene continues. Yrliet has deigned to give Abelard an explanation.

"Your Lord Captain believes that we are still trapped. That our return to Lilaethan — to Janus —" Yrliet chokes out the planet's human name like a cat wheezing on a ball of fur. "... is just a pretty story her own brain is telling her, as a defense mechanism against my dark cousins' torture."

Distracted from her worries for... definitely-not-real Abelard, Lumen has to roll her eyes at this. What a droll little debate to have within her mind!

"Well, what else could it be?" she tells Yrliet. "If we were not all inside my head, why would Abelard just... appear so soon after I started thinking of him?"

Yrliet snaps her eyes to Lumen, her face unreadable.

"That is not sound logic, elantach. You think of him all the time, regardless of where your body resides."

Now, at this point Yrliet's impassive porcelain mask cracks. She looks utterly distraught. Disgusted even.

"Your mind was... swarming with images of him when I taught you how to explore your thoughts, long before Commorragh. Some of those images, I would rather not dwell on. Ever again."

Lumen bites her lip.

Well, in her defense, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation behind all the silvery apparitions of Abelard in various states of undress, which stepped out of the fog as she and Yrliet chased down her hopes and fears during that Eldar mind ritual. They were merely the result of her trying to figure out how far down his scars extended! And whether his body hair had gone grey too! Surely, that is not such an outlandish thing to wonder about?

The current Abelard apparition — less see-through, more clothed, feet planted firmly into the imaginary white sand — draws himself up to his full height. His fingers clasp the lily brooch so tightly that the sharper parts of the flower break skin, drawing blood.

"Did you do this to her, xenos?" he demands. "Did you... twist the Lord Captain's mind?"

Yrliet's face freezes again, but her eyes cloud over with an unspoken sadness.

"The answer to that is… complicated, mon-keigh," she says quietly. "I trust elantach to tell it all, however she sees fit. When she is ready. For now, you must tend to her. Maybe one of her own kind will reach her in a way a child of Asuryan could not."

With that, she leaps gracefully from the rock onto the sand and takes off, up the overgrown path that, in realspace, would have led back to the palace. The enforcer soon scrambles off after her. Maybe he's decided that the xenos is being particularly suspicious right now, and needs to be tailed — or maybe he is not too keen of lingering under Abelard's glare. Either explanation could work in the theater of Lumen's mind.

And thus, the Rogue Trader and her Seneschal are left on their own. Like during their dance, the rest of the world falls back, stilling. Except this time, none of this is real. It can't be.

Yet, the instant both Yrliet and the enforcer vanish among the trees, Abelard drops heavily to his knees... As if he were a hollow, deceptively solid statue of a steadfast warrior, held together only flimsy, rotting scaffolding — which has finally fallen apart. Lumen would never imagine him like this! Except... Except in her worst nightmares. Is that it? Is her perfect little dream world twisting into something darker? Have the bastards shoved another brain-eating maggot up her nose?!

Like some pathetic, flopping beached sea animal, she claws uselessly at the wet sand. Struggling desperately to reshape her dream back into a sunny idyll. Wanting, above all else, to remain in control. For just a little longer. Before she wakes up and is a specimen again.

"Lord Captain," Abelard says to her hoarsely. His fingers, too, have sunk into the sand. Grasping for purchase, but finding only clumps of tiny grains.

"You were gone for so long, I — the people almost lost hope. Please, come back to — with me."

His eye lingers on her brine-soaked form; not lustfully, like she'd expect from one of her fantasies — but with concern. Well. She supposes that can be a fantasy as well. A longing for comfort. How many times, when the barbed xenos whips fell upon her, did she imagine Abelard with his trusty medkit, tending to her wounds?

"You will catch a cold," he blurts out.

After he stuns himself into silence, she laughs. And laughs and laughs. Until her chest begins to ache.

"Of course you'd say that, you darling man," she says... And the scaffolding that was supporting her own statuette, all curves and glitter and gold, rots away into nothing as well.

"I miss you..."

With a poorly stifled sob — no, no, no; this was meant to be a kind dream, an escape! — Lumen reaches up to wrap her... so realistically damp, goosebump-covered arms around Abelard.

"I miss... glancing back and finding you there. I miss your voice. Your shadow overlaying mine. Even the sound of your gun at my flank..."

Emperor's balls, that came off dubious. But she has no cheeky jokes left in her.

"I don't know how long I have been here," she mumbles, pressing herself against him, with only a layer of waterlogged linen between his body and her own... Suddenly shivering. Suddenly so, so utterly small.

"Sometimes I'm afraid that time has unraveled... Broken… Like everything else in the warp... And that back in the realspace, it's been centuries... And you are long dead..."

She finds the sleeves of his coat, hanging empty off his shoulders, and tugs them around herself. Diving into the familiar, slightly musty warmth. At least... At least the dream world has gifted her a new shelter. A new place to be at home in, for the time being.

"I hope you lived a good life, my darling Seneschal," she tells the apparition that cannot hear her. She knows it's not really him, she does, she does, but the words keep spilling out.

"I hope you raised your great grandchildren, and their children, to do your house proud. I hope you found another Rogue Trader that finished what I — we — started. I hope... Some day, some place, out there... where I might never return... You remembered me, and thought of me fondly."

"I thought of you every waking moment," a voice whispers into her hair. Does it look like her old golden tresses in this dream space, she wonders, or like the mangy mess her captors turned it into? She does not know; she never looked at her face in the water... But regardless, there are fingers weaving through it now. And their tender, reverent touch feels so terribly real that she begins to sob faintly again.

"I neglected my other duties to give more and more orders to the astropaths... I had them scry every system thrice over, I forbade them to rest until they found any trace of you... I was ready to pitch a tent in the Chapel and keep watch… Terrified that I might miss urgent news of you if I stepped away, if I closed my eyes even for a moment... I — "

Abelard cuts himself short. Lumen feels him shudder. That could be the water she's splashed all over him... Or...

"Lord Captain, did you believe a single word I just said?"

She peeks out from the little nest she's made in his coat.

"It's very... gratifying to imagine that you cared for me that much," she admits, looking up at him. "To pretend that you found me. Even if I have to face reality..."

"You do, Lord Captain," he says, with a sudden surge of fortitude in his voice. An emphasis on every word, like a strike of a blade.

And as the final strike, he kisses her.

In all her fantasies, she has always been the one to kiss him first. To leap over the boundaries of propriety with her usual elegant mischief; to turn their dancing into something more.

But here, now... His tongue is against hers; his hands are clawing the fabric of his own coat, reaching for her, clutching her tight. Even as she feels she might melt. Slip through his fingers in a trickle of gold-flaked water.

Never, not in her wildest dreams, has she imagined him drinking of her with such unabashed thirst — what feels like months and months of it, all pent up under his armor.

Which must mean...

"Abelard," she chokes, breaking contact with one final, tiny hurried bite at his lower lip. "You are here... You are really here! We... We made it out of Commorragh! It was not a dream!"

He nods, giddy and out of breath, almost all heavy markings of his restless vigil erased from his features. He even has the strength to get up from his knees while still holding on to Lumen. Something tells her he is intending to carry her like this all the way back to the palace.

But after he takes the first few steps, he stumbles to a halt. His face falls.

"Forgive me, Lord Captain. I acted inappropriately. Exceedingly so. If you dole out punishment for my transgressions, I shall accept it."

She clicks her tongue, clinging on to him — refusing to ever be let down.

"Whatever happened to serving at my pleasure?"

He turns an absolutely impossible shade of magenta... Then, relaxes, exhales — and laughs. A breathy, almost inaudible sound that makes her heart race.

"I missed you as well."

"First Theodora, now me," Lumen muses with a highly affected, faux philosophical tone.

Now, she can breathe again. Can banter again.

"Do you get hopelessly infatuated with every Rogue Trader you serve?"

No. That might have been too far. That will not do in the real world.

"Oh! I apologize, darling. I overstepped."

Abelard tilts his head to study her face. He does not appear angry — but his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

"Let me put it this way, Lord Captain... And I trust this will stay between us. In my past, I've had a tendency to get... infatuated with people I'd later lose. I intend to end that pattern."

Neither of them speaks up again until they reach the palace. But Lumen is content to make the journey in silence, resting her head against Abelard's chest.

He has given her much to mull over, in this brilliant mind of hers.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer rogue trader #rogue trader fanfiction #von valancius #abelard werserian #abelard x rogue trader #abelard x von valancius #lumen von valancius #original things

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hayadan · 4 months ago

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NASA Discovers a Supermassive Black Hole Spinning in the Wrong Direction

Astronomers Uncover a Cosmic Anomaly in NGC 5084

NASA researchers have identified a puzzling cosmic anomaly—a supermassive black hole in the galaxy NGC 5084 that appears to be rotating in the wrong direction relative to its galactic structure. This unusual orientation challenges existing theories about black hole formation and galaxy evolution.

NGC 5084 has been studied for years, yet the unexpected tilt of its central black hole remained hidden in archival data. The breakthrough came when scientists reanalyzed data from the Chandra X-ray Observatory using advanced image-processing techniques.

These methods led to a remarkable discovery: four long plumes of plasma—hot, charged gases—emerging from the galaxy. While one pair extends above and below the galactic plane, which is a common feature, the second pair is aligned within the plane of the galaxy, forming an unprecedented X-shape. Such a structure is rarely observed in galaxies, suggesting something unusual about NGC 5084’s black hole.

Astronomers Alejandro Serrano Borloff and his team developed the technique that revealed these low-luminosity X-ray emissions, leading to this discovery. Initially skeptical, they cross-verified their findings by analyzing archived data from other telescopes and requesting fresh observations from ground-based observatories.

Further analysis using the Hubble Space Telescope and ALMA in Chile revealed another surprising detail: a small inner disk of dust rotating at a 90-degree angle to the rest of the galaxy. This suggests that the black hole itself is misaligned, possibly due to past galactic mergers or interactions with another supermassive black hole.

"It was like investigating a crime scene through different types of light," said Borloff. "By combining multiple observations across the electromagnetic spectrum, we gained new insights into NGC 5084’s turbulent history."

Astrophysicist Pamela Markham added, "Finding a pair of X-ray bursts in a single galaxy is rare. But their cross-like structure, combined with the 'reverse' disk, provides unique clues about the evolution of this galaxy."

This discovery raises new questions about how supermassive black holes form and evolve. Scientists will continue observing NGC 5084 to understand the mechanisms behind its unusual black hole orientation.

For more such fascinating discoveries, visit Hayadan - Science and Reason.

#science #technology #astronomy #space

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 1 month ago

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Biggest boom since Big Bang

Astronomers from the University of Hawaiʻi’s Institute for Astronomy (IfA) have discovered the most energetic cosmic explosions yet discovered, naming the new class of events “extreme nuclear transients” (ENTs). These extraordinary phenomena occur when massive stars—at least three times heavier than our Sun—are torn apart after wandering too close to a supermassive black hole. Their disruption releases vast amounts of energy visible across enormous distances. The team's findings were recently detailed in the journal Science Advances.

"We’ve observed stars getting ripped apart as tidal disruption events for over a decade, but these ENTs are different beasts, reaching brightnesses nearly ten times more than what we typically see," said Jason Hinkle, who led the study as the final piece of his doctoral research at IfA. “Not only are ENTs far brighter than normal tidal disruption events, but they remain luminous for years, far surpassing the energy output of even the brightest known supernova explosions.”

The immense luminosities and energies of these ENTs are truly unprecedented. The most energetic ENT studied, named Gaia18cdj, emitted an astonishing 25 times more energy than the most energetic supernovae known. While typical supernovae emit as much energy in just one year as the Sun does in its 10 billion-year lifetime, ENTs radiate the energy of 100 Suns over a single year.

ENTs were first uncovered when Hinkle began a systematic search of public transient surveys for long-lived flares emanating from the centers of galaxies. He identified two unusual flares in data from the European Space Agency’s Gaia mission that brightened over a timescale much longer than known transients and without characteristics common to known transients.

"Gaia doesn’t tell you what a transient is, just that something changed in brightness," said Hinkle. "But when I saw these smooth, long-lived flares from the centers of distant galaxies, I knew we were looking at something unusual."

The discovery launched a multi-year follow-up campaign to figure out what these sources were. With help from UH’s Asteroid Terrestrial-impact Last Alert System, the W. M. Keck Observatory, and other telescopes across the globe, the team gathered data across the electromagnetic spectrum. Because ENTs evolve slowly over several years, capturing their full story took patience and persistence. Recently, a third event with similar properties was discovered by the Zwicky Transient Facility and reported independently by two teams, adding strong support that ENTs are a distinct new class of extreme astrophysical events.

The authors determined these extraordinary events could not be supernovae because they release far more energy than any known stellar explosion. The sheer energy budget, combined with their smooth and prolonged light curves, firmly pointed to an alternative mechanism: accretion onto a supermassive black hole.

However, ENTs differ significantly from normal black hole accretion which typically shows irregular and unpredictable changes in brightness. The smooth and long-lived flares of ENTs indicated a distinct physical process—the gradual accretion of a disrupted star by a supermassive black hole.

Benjamin Shappee, Associate Professor at IfA and study co-author, emphasized the implications: "ENTs provide a valuable new tool for studying massive black holes in distant galaxies. Because they're so bright, we can see them across vast cosmic distances—and in astronomy, looking far away means looking back in time. By observing these prolonged flares, we gain insights into black hole growth when the universe was half its current age when galaxies were happening places—forming stars and feeding their supermassive black holes 10 times more vigorously than they do today."

The rarity of ENTs, occurring at least 10 million times less frequently than supernovae, makes their detection challenging and dependent on sustained monitoring of the cosmos. Future observatories like the Vera C. Rubin Observatory and NASA’s Roman Space Telescope promise to uncover many more of these spectacular events, revolutionizing our understanding of black hole activity in the distant, early universe.

"These ENTs don’t just mark the dramatic end of a massive star’s life. They illuminate the processes responsible for growing the largest black holes in the universe," concluded Hinkle.

IMAGES:

1: An unlucky massive star approaches a supermassive black hole Credit University of Hawaiʻi

2: The star gets stretched by the intense tidal forces, eventually being ripped apart in a tidal disruption event. Credit University of Hawaiʻi

3: An accretion disk forms around the black hole, powering an extreme nuclear transient ENT. Credit University of Hawaiʻi

4: An infrared Echo tells us that a dusty torus surrounds the central black hole and newly-formed accretion disk. Credit University of Hawaiʻi

5: The ENT outshines the entire stellar output of its host galaxy for nearly a year. Credit University of Hawaiʻi

6: After more than a year, accretion onto the black hole slows and the ENT fades. Credit University of Hawaiʻi

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

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dinosaursonthetwinplanet · 2 months ago

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Why Are Petrified Trees Trunks Fossilization Without Roots

My Theory Challenges the standard geology and mainstream Fossilization theory and the connection to dinosaur extinction :

• The mainstream theory say that fossilization requires burial under sediment, often by flood, volcanic ash, or landslides.

• In the case of roots, being the most buried part of a tree, should fossilize before or at least along with the trunk. Yet in many petrified forests worldwide:

• Trunks are perfectly petrified, often upright or lying sideways,

• Roots are missing, poorly preserved, or completely unmineralized. This contradicts the slow, uniform process expected under normal sedimentary fossilization.

Cosmic Flash Fossilization Explanation This phenomenon aligns well with the idea of a surface-directed energy event such as:

• A cosmic radiation burst.

• An electromagnetic pulse.

• Or a shockwave from a supernova or atmospheric plasma event These would:

• Strike the exposed upper portions of standing or fallen.

• Cause instant petrification of trunks above ground.

• Leave subterranean roots unaffected, as the energy could not penetrate the soil.

Supporting Visuals in Petrified Forests.

• Tree rings preserved in glass-like quartz structures.

• No sediment layering consistent with long-term burial.

• Surface alignment or orientation of trunks in similar direction (suggestive of energy flow or blast).

Petrification was not uniform, not gradual, and likely caused by a brief, external force acting only on exposed surfaces.

The Unified Petrification of Trees, Dinosaurs, and Marine Life

The Shared Characteristics Across Life Forms Petrified trees, dinosaur bones, and even some marine fossils exhibit:

• Quartz or silicate replacement of organic tissues.

• Exceptional detail in cellular or anatomical structures • Inconsistent or partial fossilization, often only on exposed surfaces.

• Unusual preservation of soft tissues (e.g., blood vessels in dinosaurs, inner bark in trees, soft-bodied marine fossils) This suggests that the mechanism of petrification was not selective by habitat (land vs sea), species, or burial depth—but rather acted universally and rapidly.

Evidence of a Single, High-Energy Event The preservation pattern across:

• Terrestrial megafauna (dinosaurs).

• Ancient forests (petrified wood).

• Marine species in sedimentary rock …points to a simultaneous exposure to the same cosmic flash event, possibly caused by:

• A supernova shockwave.

• A plasma burst or gamma-ray burst.

• Or a high-energy interstellar particle stream This would explain:

• Instant petrification on a global scale.

• Widespread distribution of fossilization regardless of environment. • The uniform mineral composition in fossils across continents.

*A Global Petrification Event This supports the hypothesis of a planet-wide petrification event, initiated by a cosmic force strong enough to:

• Penetrate the atmosphere and ocean surface.

• Interact with biological material at the atomic level.

• Mineralize tissues in seconds or minutes, not millennia This unified process dissolves the boundaries between geologic eras and environmental zones, replacing slow, local fossilization theories with a single, rapid cosmic event hypothesis.

Shared Preservation Traits Petrified trees, dinosaur fossils, and marine life show parallel fossilization patterns that suggest a shared, rapid petrification mechanism. Despite vast differences in habitat and structure, these organisms were subject to a similar mineralization process that preserved fine details and soft tissues. Across these biological categories, the following features are observed:

• Silicification and quartz-like mineral replacement of organic matter • Exceptional preservation of anatomical or cellular details.

• Partial or surface-focused petrification (outer fossilization, inner preservation).

• Fossils found in environments where slow fossilization by sediment is unlikely. These patterns challenge conventional models of localized, time-dependent fossilization. Indication of a Single High-Energy Cosmic Event The consistency of fossilization across life forms suggests exposure to the same type of cosmic energy, likely from a supernova or a related astrophysical event. This event could have:

• Released intense gamma radiation or plasma streams.

• Affected Earth’s atmosphere, oceans, and land surface simultaneously.

• Triggered mineralization of hydrogen-rich tissues at the molecular level This would explain why fossils in marine sediments, volcanic zones, and petrified forests share striking mineralogical and structural similarities.

Global Petrification Hypothesis I propose that a single cosmic event induced a wave of petrification across Earth’s biosphere. This mechanism:

• Worked at or near the speed of light causing Mineralized biological structures nearly instantly.

• Created long-lasting fossil records without the need for burial over millions of years This unifying process reframes fossilization not as a slow, isolated geological function, but as a short-lived, high-energy phenomenon of cosmic origin.

#dinosaurs #paleontology #dinosaur extinction #science #geology #cosmology #mary schweizer

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vintage-tigre · 5 months ago

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Back in 1996, the Hubble Space Telescope unveiled an astonishing sighta young planetary nebula, about 8,000 light-years away, shaped like an intricate hourglass.

Previously, from Earth, the nebula appeared as large outer rings with a smaller central one, but the finer details were obscured. Thanks to Hubble's powerful lens, we now see a more complex and breathtaking structure, revealing not only its striking hourglass form but also unexpected features.

Planetary nebulae form when Sun-like stars near the end of their lives, collapsing into dense white dwarfs and shedding their outer layers in the process. These layers create stunning clouds of gas and dust, forming what we call planetary nebulae. What's unusual about this nebula is that the central star is slightly off-center, a rare occurrence in such cosmic formations. Additionally, Hubble discovered elliptical rings and elaborate etchings within the hourglass-possible remnants of shells ejected when the star was younger.

This breathtaking image was composed of three different light spectrums: ionized nitrogen (red), hydrogen (green), and doubly ionized oxygen (blue). Together, they form a mesmerizing image of a turquoise blue "eye" staring out from the center of a vivid red-orange hourglass. The nebula's intricate layers and arcs continue to puzzle astronomers, hinting at the untold stories of the universe's stellar life cycles.

#constellations #cosmic #all seeing eye #space #nebula #hubble space telescope #space exploration #outer space #aesthetic #beauty #interstellar

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mystic-rubysunflower · 3 months ago

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Libra Full Moon at 24° — A Spell for Self-Love Through Sacred Imbalance

By: Ruby Sunflower 🌻 Balanced Earthy Lioness

🌕♎🦋✨

As the radiant Full Moon illuminates 24° Libra, it meets my Ascendant at 25° Libra, shining a cosmic spotlight on identity, balance, and the beautiful imperfections that make us whole. Opposing the Sun conjunct Chiron in Aries (7th House), this lunation invites deep healing through the mirror of relationships—both with others and ourselves.

At 24°, the Sabian Symbol reads:

“A third wing on the left side of a butterfly.”

This poetic and peculiar image reminds us: imbalances, oddities, and emotional or physical asymmetry are not flaws—they're sacred invitations to fly differently. To embrace our awkward beauty. To recognize that the places where we wobble are often the places we hold our deepest magic.

Tarot Spread: The Third Wing of Transformation

Infused with the energy of 24° Libra — for shadow integration, balance, and renewal

🔮✨🃏

Lay your cards in a gentle arc like a butterfly's wings (cards 1–3 on the left wing, 4 in the center, 5–7 on the right wing).

1. The Hidden Asymmetry – What subtle imbalance within my identity or body is signaling the need for transformation?

The Tower (XVI)

A radical collapse is clearing outdated self-concepts. Let the illusion fall—your rebirth is built on truth.

2. Unusual Gift – In what way does my unique, “lopsided” quality serve as a catalyst for growth and authenticity?

King of Sword

Your intellect is sharp, discerning, and commanding. What you once saw as emotional detachment may be your superpower.

3. The Crossroads of Integration – Where in my life must I reconcile the interplay of instinct and logic?

2 of Pentacles

Balance isn't static—it's a dance. Stop choosing between head and heart. Let both guide you in flow.

4. The Dance of Dual Energies – How can I better harmonize conflicting parts of my nature, much like balancing the left and right wings of a butterfly?

Ace of Cups

Let love lead. Emotional openness is the key to balance. Vulnerability is not weakness—it’s divine wisdom.

5. The Chrysalis of the Past – What old patterns or wounds need to be released to allow my full potential to emerge?

7 of Wands

You don’t have to fight to be seen. The defensive posture you’ve held for so long can now dissolve.

6. The Emerging Flight – What newly discovered strength arises from embracing my imperfections?

10 of Swords

The end of old pain marks the beginning of rebirth. You are not broken—you are becoming.

7. The Vision of Wholeness – What message does my higher self offer about achieving equilibrium and radiant self-love?

3 of Cups

Joy. Connection. Sisterhood. Your healing is amplified through shared celebration and sacred community.

3 Shadow Work Questions for This Libra Full Moon

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1. Where in my life am I still trying to “perfect” myself instead of embracing my quirks and edges?

I still strive for perfection in the way I show up for others—always wanting to be the calm one, the wise one, the healer. I often feel like I can't afford to stumble or feel lost, as if others are counting on me to keep it together. But deep down, I know that this pressure is rooted in fear—fear of not being enough unless I'm flawless. I silence parts of myself that feel messy or chaotic because I'm afraid they’ll make me unlovable.

I need to remember that it’s the real, unfiltered me that people connect with—not the curated version. My quirks are my magic. My edges are invitations for intimacy.

2. In what ways do I fear emotional vulnerability, and how might that be holding back my intuitive gifts?

I’m afraid of being vulnerable because I’ve been burned before—times when I opened up and wasn't met with the care or understanding I needed. So I protect myself by staying a step ahead emotionally, analyzing instead of feeling, helping others process while burying my own needs.

But I know that my intuition gets muffled when I do this. My deepest insights come when I let myself feel—even when it’s uncomfortable. I block the full flow of my psychic and emotional gifts when I try to stay in control. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the portal to my true power.

3. What defenses am I ready to lower so I can receive deeper love—from others, and from myself?

I’m ready to release the belief that I have to earn love by being useful, productive, or endlessly supportive. I want to stop hiding behind “I’ve got it” and “I’m fine.” Those are my armor.

I’m ready to admit when I need help. To cry without apology. To let others see me in my softness and still feel safe. I’m ready to receive love—not just give it.

From myself, I want to stop criticizing my pace, my healing, my appearance, my process. I’m tired of treating myself like a project. I want to offer myself grace.

It’s time to let the love in. No conditions. No defenses. Just truth.

Final Whisper from the Moon

Your third wing is not a burden.

It is your sacred signature.

You were never meant to fly like anyone else.

This Full Moon calls you to dance in your difference, to celebrate the art of asymmetry, and to bloom into balance not through symmetry but through authentic self-acceptance.

Fly your unique pattern.

Flap your strange, beautiful wings.

You are more than enough.

You are becoming whole.

Exactly as you are

Written with lunar love,

Ruby Sunflower

Balanced Earthy Lioness

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