#Using a radiation detector

[g4laxy-drag0n]

Scientists torturing backronyms/acronyms happens a lot, actually (see my tags for examples)

Backronyms

Physicists suck at naming things (I can say this because I'm a MechE and I have had to deal with so many physicists), but occasionally they have a stroke of brilliance. Like, a friend of mine worked on a dark matter detector called DarkSide. That's so goofy that it wraps back around to good.

Anyway, there's this superconducting fusion reactor in france called WEST. It's notable for having first-wall shielding tiles (the innermost surface of the vacuum chamber, directly facing the fusion plasma) entirely made of tungsten.

There are a lot of materials used for plasma-facing components – tungsten, molybdenum, graphite, beryllium, various composites and combinations of the above – but it's pretty rare for a reactor to go full tungsten. It can take extremely high temperatures, but it's brittle and expensive, and "high-Z" (high molecular weight) impurities in the plasma cause their own issues. So, the main purpose of WEST is to investigate the viability of an all-tungsten first wall and divertor.

To that end, they tortured an acronym until they got it to work:

Tungsten Environment in Steady-state Tokamak

Or "WEST"

Get it?

GEW IW??

[sugarwarachan]

title: better than most to say the least

pairing: dabi x reader (also on ao3)

wc: oops this is almost 3k

CWs: soulmate!au, fem!reader, slight angst if you squint, no condoms used (wrap it up in real life yall), Dabi's a little mean, reader's a little into it, the unbearable burden of being seen, i haven't written fic in years be gentle

Dabi doesn’t care about much. You can’t in the sort of world he inhabits. It’s much easier to scorch the earth behind you than to plan for good things to come. So he’s furious when he hears your voice, a real soft and low number, like a siren out in the fucking fog, say, “That’ll be ¥500.”

His brother laughed when the soul mark activated; even at the age of three, he’d known just how mundane the words were. Part of him had laughed as well; maybe you and he would laugh about it, too, when you met. The laughter died in his throat when he saw his father’s disapproving face.

He looks down at the packaged onigiri in something like disbelief. Your face is starting to express apprehension. He still hasn’t said anything, and it doesn’t even look like he’ll pay. He’s not surprised you’re weirded out, and fuck, something is pressing against his chest, like a buoy rising up, pulling him to the surface so he can finally suck down oxygen.

He feels fucking free, giddy with it. You’re real. He never once imagined you would be.

The grin that cracks his face must look a touch maniacal because your eyes widen, and he watches you press yourself against the counter as he says, “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, princess?”

He’s not all that pleasant to look at.

You know that’s not a nice thing to think, especially about your soul mate, but you can’t help that your first thought upon seeing the guy was holy fucking shit what happened to you?

A moment ago, he was glaring at you, and now he’s radiating a nervous energy that puts you on edge. It’s like he thinks you’ll disappear the moment he takes his eyes off you.

You’re no criminal, but you’re no hero, either. You’ve got a quirk that makes most people wary of you, so your nonsense detector is finely tuned, and fuck, your soul mate is definitely the kind of dude who ends up on the other side of those hero compilations your coworker streams on her lunch break.

“Not done talking to me, are you?” He pouts, pushing out his lips and pulling at the staples in his face. His voice is nice. It relaxes you somehow, even when every nerve in your body is shrieking in alarm.

“Where’s yours?”

This throws him. A part of you doesn’t like forcing his hand like this, but another part of you thinks this could be a really convenient trap.

“Your soul mark?” You tap the side of your wrist. “Mine’s along the radial bone.”

He reaches over the till to grab your arm, pulling you closer. You yelp in protest. His touch is hot, familiar. You’re grateful no one else is in the store right now. Explaining this to yourself is going to be enough of a hassle later on.

There’s a menace in his voice when he addresses you. “You think I’m a liar?”

You don’t, actually. Even without the soul mark you would take this man at his word.

“No. But you’ve been in here a whole lot, and I’m a naturally suspicious person. So, pony up and show me.”

You’ve gotta be smart about this. Heroes and villains alike would do a lot to get a person with your quirk on their side, and you’re not so naïve as to think that soul marks can’t be discovered and used against you.  

He grins, and you feel it like a twist to the gut. This guy might actually kill you; you don’t really know. But something—the little bond between the tug of you that threaded your lives together the moment he opened his mouth—is already tugging at your brain for answers, for knowledge, all to better assemble who your soulmate is.

“We’ve gotta go somewhere safe for me to do that, doll.” He leers at you, and you wonder if he’s trying to intimidate, trying to imprint on your brain that, yes, he is, in fact, dangerous. “You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

Fat fucking chance.

You don’t take him at his word. You call him every name he’s ever heard and then some, and then you close your eyes and hum, and a feeling like sugared caramel slides into his head. Fuck is he floating? he thinks before he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

When he comes to, his head is splitting. He’s sitting in what he assumes is the store’s backroom, judging by the shelves lined with cleaning products. You’re on a crate watching him with an annoyed expression, lips kicked out in a pout. It draws attention to the fullness of your lower lip. He tries not to notice.

“You could have just shown me,” you grouse.

“And miss out on the chance to have you hit me with your quirk? What kind of masochist would I be then?”

He doesn’t know what you’re doing as a cashier, but it’s safe to say you’re hiding. He has no idea what you did to him, but just before he’d knocked out, he remembered the first time he mastered the flames, that sticky-sweet feeling of hope in his chest. He has no idea how you managed to dig that out after all these years.

You shrug, ignoring him.

“Too good to fucking explain?” he snaps.

You saw something vulnerable, so personal that not even the league knows he has those thoughts, those memories. If he could scrub them from your brain, he would.

“I can make you dream,” you snap back. “When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my own head. It worried my parents. They got me tested because they thought I was quirkless. The doctor said I had a minor empathy quirk. Nothing to worry about. What kid wouldn’t want the advantage of knowing how others feel?”

You clench your hands.

“I didn’t know if I could implant a dream into someone’s head, but I spun that dream the night before, and my parents were never the wiser. Up until the day they died, they never knew I’d planned out that scenario already and made that man lie to them.”

He’s floored. He can’t believe you’re willingly offering up such valuable information to him. What would Shigaraki do with you, he wonders, before a violent pain follows the thought. No, Shigaraki isn’t getting his hands on you. He doesn’t exactly know what happens to the things that kid collects for his master.

“Not at the top of the list for hero candidates?”

Your lips pull back in a sneer before you realize. You’re bad at hiding your feelings, he realizes, something that makes him feel oddly protective. You’ll need to get better at that.

He turns his hands out, palms up. A thin blue flame erupts. You jump, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“We’re gonna need to move, sweets. Neither one of us is exactly hero material.”

He takes you to a sorry excuse for a safe house because it’s just some guy on vacation who was stupid enough to leave a spare key behind, but it works in a pinch. He can’t take you to the league just yet. He already barely knows you, and there he would have to split your time with everyone else.

You’re standing in the doorway like a spooked animal. That you agreed to come is shocking in itself, but then again, he would have followed you into a coffin if you asked it of him. Maybe there was something to those soul mate stories Toga pretended not to read after all. He thought the whole bond thing was exaggerated, but maybe not.

He clenches his jaw and grabs a beer from the fridge.

“I’m not gonna fucking hurt you. You can take the bedroom,” he says, even though he wants you to sit next to him, to look at him, to share something again the way you had in the storeroom. But you’re already shuffling away, and before he knows it, the door shuts with a click, and he’s alone in the dark.

Confirmed villain.

It took you all of two seconds to search the web for League of Villains and/or criminal activity across the country, and bam, there he is, menacing even in blurry camera footage.

You stare up at the ceiling and wonder if you should be horrified at yourself that this confirmation changes nothing. He’s just your soulmate, for better or for worse.

And you’re a coward for sitting in here rather than performing the simple task of sharing a drink with him.

The blue glow of the television lights up the living room. He’s moved to the couch, long legs spread open, arms resting along the back. Desire drops low in your stomach at the sight, an almost innate need flashing in your body to climb into his lap.

He catches your eye and smirks like he can read your thoughts. You blush furiously. “Did you realize hiding doesn’t solve shit?”

“Shut up,” you retort, like a child, which makes him laugh. It’s a nice laugh. A little subdued, you think, but warm, hard-won. You don’t imagine he laughs often.

When you settle down next to him, he seems to barely register, but something in you knows he’s pleased. You curl toward the feeling like a cat seeking a sunbeam.  

“Really, though. What made you come out?”

Looking him in the eye is a mistake. He has beautiful eyes, a cerulean blue that puts the sky to shame.

“I don’t like running from things,” you manage. You were wrong to think he wasn’t pretty. “What’s your name?”

He snorts. “You’ve gotta know it, doll, didn’t you spend ten minutes in there panic-searching for violent crime?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d still like to be introduced.”

“It’s Dabi.”

You raise a brow. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll tell you the real one later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s watching compilation videos of pro heroes, the footage flickering on the walls around you.

“This is what you do in your spare time?”

He shrugs. “Just what was on.”

You don’t believe that for a second, but it’s fine, because you’re a liar, too. You’d do anything to avoid painful topics, like the possibility that your soulmate already has plans outside of you that you won’t be able to change.

“You know, your words used to get me in a lot of trouble,” you say, to get you back into familiar territory.

He smiles, like that pleases him. You bet it does.

“Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?”

“Just the usual. Your soulmate has a potty mouth, your soul mate’s probably a villain…”

His shoulder tenses against you. You don’t remember scooting closer, but the sheer fucking heat of him is searing into your skin.

You want him. If you’re being honest, you’ve probably wanted him since he first appeared in the store. The part of you that doesn’t exactly abide by societal standards saw a kindred flame in him.

“That sort of thing used to bother me when I was a kid, I guess. But the older I got, the more I realized how much I liked them.”

Your hands ache to touch him. His thigh tenses alongside yours.

“What do you like about them now?” he asks.

You have a whole slew of thoughts in your head about them, the characteristics you assumed based on one little question, but for now all you can say is, “That you finally said them.”

He doesn’t know who moves first.

You tumble into his lap inelegantly, but he doesn’t care; he wants you closer. He’s wanted you closer since he arrived at this shitty studio apartment, has been trying to rein in the overwhelming feeling of possession swarming under his skin, but he wants.

He's a villain, and he’s never been good at waiting for what he wants.

His hands press into the meat of your hips, and he savors the little gasp you make. He’s hard as iron already and all you’ve done is settle your clothed cunt on top of him.

“You’re already fucking scorching, baby, can feel you through your fucking jeans,” he hisses, dragging you along his thigh. You whimper. “I know, fuck, I know, you’re driving me crazy, too.”

Your hands are everywhere, sliding over his scarred skin like you were born to it, fingers exploring the cool metal of his staples. You’re gentle but also not, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt in his entire life. You move to kiss him, your hips moving more and more, a desperate noise bubbling up in your throat.

“Please, Dabi, please.” You sound so fucked out, and he hasn’t even touched you all that much. “I wanna kiss you, don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He smirks. A little brat, begging for kisses.

He does want to kiss you, has been staring at the plushness of your lips for the better part of since he met you, but his mouth aches today.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me now,” you’re saying, tongue licking and tasting and sucking at his neck. He bucks against you. “We can feel good in other ways.”

The whimper that comes out of him feels ripped from his soul. His arms cage you closer, one palm snaking up to cup your neck, the other under your shirt.

Neither of you talk as you make quick work of each other’s clothes, discarding them to the floor. He tries not to feel insecure as you take in his body. Over the years, his appearance is as much a part of him as his past. He can’t shed either, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you were pretty at first.”

You look so devastated that he can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says, pulling you to him and kissing you despite how much his lips ache, because fuck, he has someone, finally, and he’s so glad it’s you. “Just want you.”

He punctuates this by cupping your bare pussy with his hand. Just from grinding on him earlier, you’re slippery and warm, and his fingers part your folds easily. You sigh into his mouth as he rubs the pad of his thumb around the sides of your clit, huffing a laugh when your hips buck for more.

“Getting desperate for it, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you grit out. “Just fucking touch me –" you roll your hips forward – “like you fucking mean it.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you dumb on my cock before long.”

“Big fucking talk for a man who hasn’t even – “

He cuts you off by stuffing your pussy with two of his fingers, the stretch of it making you whine. You can feel the cool metal in the staples at the heel of his hand as he strokes, in and out, a steady and rough rhythm that feels impossibly good for it to just be fucking fingering.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” You can hear the smirk in his voice without even seeing him. Splayed out on his lap like this, your tits bouncing as you shift your body closer to him, you bet you look like a fucking mess. But you don’t care, because he's right, no one has ever made you feel like this, and it’s important to you that he feels just as fucking good.

His cock curves along his stomach, weeping pre-cum and jerking up whenever your voice hitches. You think it’s so hot, how in tune he already is with you, how much he wants to please you, that you grab him in the palm of your hand and stroke, relishing the groan that rumbles in his throat.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” you taunt. His eyes flash, and before you know it, you’re both on the ground, his hips slotting in between your legs and his cock notching up at your entrance. He looks up at you, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll fucking murder you –"

He cuts you off with one quick rock of his hips. You burn at the stretch. He’s big, and it’s been a while, but he’s already moving before you have time to process that little blip of pain before the pleasure is overwhelming you. You squeal when he lifts your hips up, but it’s just to slip a pillow under you before he’s manhandling your hips and fucking into you like a man possessed.

His breath is hot against your ear, whispering a litany of confessions while he drags his cock in and out. It’s so purposeful, you feel every stroke of him in your fucking skull. His pubic bone grinds against your clit with every thrust, and before you know it, you’re chanting praises, begging him to let you come.

He knows the neighbors will complain, that the safe house is absolutely busted, but he can’t fucking care, because your perfect little cunt is squeezing him like a vice, and your eyes are so blissful as you come that he feels, finally, at peace.

“That’s it, princess,” he says as your orgasm shatters through you. “Make a fucking mess, just for me, god yes –"

He comes so hard that his vision whites out. All he can feel and hear and see and think is you.

He collapses on top of you, nosing at the baby hairs damp with sweat along your neck. He smiles. Maybe later he’ll take you to a bed and tell you his real name.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 7

Part 6

It took Damian the rest of the afternoon to prepare for his trip to Amity Park. Jon helpfully agreed to cover for him, on the promise of a copy of the upcoming Cheese Viking 2 and getting filled in on all the hot Bat gossip afterwards. Wasn’t friendship grand?

Pennyworth thankfully agreed that ‘bonding time’ between the Super Sons was a good use of fall break and even took the time to ‘Prepare some healthy snacks for the young Masters, lest you eat junk food the whole week’. The task also handily distracted the butler while Damian packed the Batwing with all the necessary surveillance equipment he would need and set up the program to spoof his flight data. Damian had no doubt that Father wouldn’t be fooled for long, but with the Bat it was always better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

The flight to Illinois was mercifully uneventful. Damian rappelled off in the middle of the eponymous city Park, then instructed the autopilot to take the plane to a wooded area outside city limits and park there in camouflage mode. Once he was sure his arrival had gone undetected, he changed into civvies and with his backpack full of gear set off in the direction of Fenton Works on foot. In jeans, sneakers, a dark hoodie and a baseball cap he looked like any other kid his age, even if he was out after curfew. Damian made sure to stick to the shadows and ducked behind cover whenever a car passed him.

All in all it took him until the early morning hours to arrive at the correct address. Intellectually, he had known the Fentons operated their workshop out of the family home, but he was in no way prepared for the monstrosity of a building that greeted him. Damian couldn’t help but stop and stare in disbelief.

What had once started out as an ordinary brownstone building had a glaring neon sign out front, proudly proclaiming the company name. Perched precariously on the roof was a gigantic metal structure that looked like a cross between a cartoon UFO and an observatory. There was no way this was legal or sane. If something like this had popped up in Gotham it would have been flagged as a Rogue hideout and bugged to hell and back. Hell, Damian was half tempted to break in immediately to start planting cameras but was held back by the likely presence of a custom security system. Mad scientists were rude like that and Damian didn’t want to tip his hand too early. He would have to at least wait until he was sure the Fentons weren’t at home.

Damian tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and strolled past the building at a fake casual pace. The windows were dark and the building was silent, except for the faint hum of the neon sign. This early on a Saturday morning, the residents were likely fast asleep. He spotted an electric scooter chained up next to the stairs leading up to the entrance and made the deduction that it likely belonged to Daniel. Under the guise of retying his shoelaces, he dropped to one knee and surreptitiously attached a bug to the vehicle. Ideally he would get the opportunity to bug Daniel himself, but for now this would have to do. Hoping that no one had noticed him, Damian continued down the street.

He had researched the area ahead of time and had found an apartment a few buildings down and across the street that was advertised as available for rent and was unoccupied. Breaking in and disabling the home alarm was child’s play, and after making sure he was alone in the apartment, Damian settled in to begin his surveillance.

He pulled the handheld radiation detector out of his backpack and after making sure it was operational he slipped it into his pocket. With no way to boost its range he would have to get pretty close to Daniel with no major obstructions in the way in order to verify if he had been in contact with the marked bills he had slipped Phantom. But Damian was confident in his ability to stay undetected. After all, Daniel had no reason to suspect he was being stalked by a curious Bat.

Damian kept himself occupied by listening to the local radio broadcast over his comm. The hosts sounded like chipper twenty-somethings, excitedly shilling for various local events happening over fall break, in-between shilling for local businesses. Why anyone would want to eat at an establishment called the Nasty Burger was beyond Damian. Whenever they stopped nattering to play actual music it was a blessing even if the appeal of the songs was entirely lost on the young vigilante. Finally, at 8am they had an actual news segment. Most of it was covering major US and global events, nothing Damian hadn’t already heard. Elections, natural disasters, rising tensions in Bialya…

“...and in local news, the City Library has announced that clean-up after last week’s ghost attack is finished, and they will be open at their normal hours on Monday!” the female host said cheerily, as if she was talking about the weather. “As usual, we would like to remind our listeners to keep their third eyes peeled for any ghost sightings! In case of a ghost attack, follow standard protocol and head to your nearest ghost shelter. Thank you! And here’s Mark with sports!”

Damian was flabbergasted. Ghost attack? This city experienced supernatural incursions and treated it like it was a normal occurrence? He’d read that the Fentons were ghost hunters, but he hadn’t thought anyone was taking them seriously! If Amity Park was under attack on a regular basis, how come the Justice League didn’t have a file on the city? Surely the news should have leaked to the outside world by now!

It was rare that Damian was caught so utterly wrong footed. His cursory research into Amity Park had turned up nothing like this! He was itching to get back to the Batcomputer to do a deep dive on the city and its history. Unfortunately, all he had on him was his phone which was ill suited for serious data compilation. At best he could scour local news sites and social media for any hint as to what was going on.

After half an hour of fruitless searching, he gave up in disgust. There was no mention of ghosts anywhere, save for the Fentons’ own website. Yet the news report had been almost blasé about the subject! Something was rotten in the State of Illinois.

All he could do for now was stare out the window at the Fenton’s front porch and hope his quarry made an appearance soon.

At 9.13 AM there was finally movement at the Fenton house. A dark-haired teenager in jeans, a light T-shirt, a backpack and a bicycle helmet bounded down the front steps and unlocked the electric scooter. It was unmistakably Daniel.

Damian hurriedly packed away his things, grabbed his backpack and left the apartment. He made sure to rearm the security system and lock the door, leaving no trace of ever having been there. Of course Damian wasn’t about to pursue his target across the rooftops of an unknown city in broad daylight. He would just have to wait for Daniel to arrive at his destination and follow him there. He retrieved his phone and pulled up the tracking data. It looked like the teen was headed towards the city center.

Damian tuned his comm to the listening device he had planted and set off towards downtown Amity at a light jog. For a while, all he heard was background noise. After about ten minutes, Daniel came to a stop.

“Hey Tucker, ready to go?” That had to be Daniel.

“Hey Danny!” a second male voice answered, “I was just waiting for you. Sam says she’ll meet us at the main entrance of the mall.”

“Sweet. Hopefully we can grab something cool from Game’O’Rama if we beat the rush.”

“You said it, my dude. Come on!”

The tracker resumed its movement. Now that he had a destination, Damian used his phone to call a cab. There couldn’t be that many malls in a city this size.

Daniel and his friend ‘Tucker’ kept up a steady stream of idle chatter on their journey. Damian learned more than he ever wanted to know about the attractive qualities of the female students at their high school, the tediousness of the homework assignments they had received for the week and the reviews of recent horror movie releases. Inconsequential chit chat as far as Damian was concerned. Once the pair arrived at their destination they parked their scooters and were soon out of range of the listening device. Damian cut the transmission and spent the rest of the short cab ride trying to find information on Daniel’s companion. Since they were apparently classmates and he had a first name to go on, it didn’t take long to narrow it down to Tucker Foley. Damian made a mental note to investigate him in depth later.

The mall was moderately busy when he arrived but nowhere near as bad as Gotham. Luckily there was a floorplan displayed at the entrance and it didn’t take Damian long to find the Game’O’Rama store. Predictably, it was dedicated to video games, gaming accessories and memorabilia. A sign in the window announced a major weekend sale, likely what had drawn Daniel and his companions. Damian slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses to conceal his eyes and meandered into the store. Wandering between the aisles, pretending to examine the games on offer, it didn’t take him long to find his quarry and Damian got his first good look at the trio.

Daniel was almost a head taller than Damian, slightly paler and with his dark hair mussed up from the scooter ride earlier. His clothes were slightly threadbare, and not the kind that was intentional. His white T-shirt bore a faded NASA logo and his jeans were frayed at the cuffs. He had dark circles under his eyes, though not nearly as bad as Drake got when he was on a case. Nonetheless, for the moment he seemed cheerful and at ease. He was examining the back of a disk case.

“I don’t know Tuck, I’m not much for medieval fantasy,” he said amusedly, “and a lot of these monsters look like ghosts we’ve seen. I get enough of them on a day to day basis, I don’t need them in my video games too.”

Again, this talk of ghosts.

The African American male next to Daniel had to be Tucker Foley. He was just a few inches shorter than Daniel, with his hair in shoulder length dreadlocks partially covered by a red beret. A matching red T-shirt with white Atari logo and baggy camo pants screamed nerd even before you got close enough to notice the black rimmed glasses and the clunky looking device he was tapping away on. Where did he get it from, the middle-ages?

“Look, the reviews are pretty great, and if we avoid everything ghost related what’s even left?” the boy argued, “You can’t let ghosts ruin your fun, man.”

“Tucker’s right, Danny.” the third member of their group chimed in. She was dressed head to toe in black, with a sheer, lacy top, a knee-length skirt, fishnet gloves and stockings and a pair of combat boots. With the thick soles giving her added height, she was almost as tall as Daniel. She wore eerily pale foundation making her dark purple lipstick and eyeshadow pop out even more. She had a small nose stud with a matching purple stone. Her earrings were shaped like spiders dangling from a web and she wore a pentagram necklace. Damian knew some of his schoolmates belonged to the goth subculture, but Gotham Academy’s dress code heavily limited such self-expression on campus. He guessed this girl was either really dedicated to the style or really dedicated to pissing off her parents. Maybe both.This had to be ‘Sam’.

“Besides, if Technus couldn’t ruin gaming for us no one else should either!” she continued.

“Fiiiiine,” Daniel sighed, clearly playing up his reluctance. “but if Amity gets attacked by an army of goblins next I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’!” He double checked the price tag. “Splitsies?”

The girl scoffed and plucked the case from his hand. “I’ll take this one, you can pay for lunch later. Why don’t you two go ahead to Pineapple Republic for those jeans you wanted? I’ll catch up to you.”

“If you’re sure. Thanks Sam!” Daniel leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I guess we’ll see you there.”

“Yeah, thanks Sam.”

“Go on, shoo!” she laughed and headed over to the cash register as the boys left the store. Making a split second decision, Damian grabbed a random game from the shelf and got in line behind Sam. He leaned slightly towards her, pretending to examine the figurines behind the counter and stealthily stuck a bug to her skirt. Now he could listen in on their conversation without having to risk being noticed.

After paying for his purchase he wandered off in the direction the other teens had taken. He would just have to leave the game somewhere ‘accidentally’ at the earliest opportunity. Pretending to check his phone he tuned his comm to the frequency of the new bug. 

“...I think those are still a little short on you.” Sam said amusedly.

“Man, I’m glad I finally got my growth spurt, but having to replace most of my wardrobe is gonna be a pain in the ass!” Daniel complained.

“Look at it this way Danny, this could be your chance to branch out. A whole new style, a whole new you!” Sam countered enthusiastically.

Damian walked towards the source of the signal. He didn’t follow the trio directly into Pineapple Republic, instead heading into the shoe store across from the clothing store. Browsing there would let him keep an eye on the entrance.

“Let me guess, would this style include black, black and more black?” came Foley’s snarky voice.

“Black is timeless, I’ll have you know,” Sam sniffed in mock offense, “and Danny does look good in it. Just try it?”

“I don’t know Sam, I don’t wanna blow my allowance on clothes that don’t feel like me.”

“Oh! We could always try the thrift store, they have plenty of cool stuff! And upcycling is great for the environment.”

“Uh, hard pass,” came the flat reply, “I would like to survive the year with some of my dignity intact, please.”

“Yeah dude, if Dash and his cronies caught wind of Danny going to Goodwill or something they’d never let him live it down.”

“There is nothing wrong with buying second-hand!”

“Says the girl in $500 guaranteed cruelty free designer boots.” Foley shot back.

“That’s different!” Sam sputtered, “And besides, I don’t see why you still chase the approval of those jerks.”

“Easy guys, settle down,” Daniel said placatingly, “Sam, you know it’s different for us. You might be able to brush off Paulina’s snarky comments, but I can’t just brush off Dash trying to rearrange my face. I’d rather not paint an even bigger target on my back.”

Sam gave a loud sigh. “Ugh, stupid high school politics. I can’t wait to graduate.”

“I dunno, if things go according to plan you’ll have to deal with real politics, Ms Future Administrator of the EPA Manson.” Daniel teased.

“You mean Senator Manson.” Foley chimed in.

“Madam President Manson!”

“Stop it guys!” the girl laughed, “I’ll leave the political ass kissing to someone else. I just want to save the planet! But I gotta get my doctorate first.”

“Well if you do end up having to take over the country to do it, there’s one thing to keep in mind,” Foley said sagely, “You can’t be much worse than President Luthor.”

The two replied with fake gagging noises while Foley just snickered.

“But seriously, since you brought up mixing up my style… I was thinking of getting my ears pierced.” Daniel said hesitantly.

“Really? Ooh, do you want studs? Danglers? An industrial?” Sam gushed excitedly.

“Well… aw nuts.” Daniel’s voice was suddenly tense.

“You know what?” Sam rushed out, equally tense, “I think you should go and try these pants on. In the changing room. Right now.”

Damian frowned. What the hell had happened? He glanced out the shop window but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly, he heard distant screams and the sound of glass breaking. It’s almost like being back in Gotham.

Part 8

[cillians-sweetheart]

How to Calm a Man - Robert Capa

Capa!Patient(29) x Fem!Psychologist!Reader(25)

Plot: (kind of a silly plot and beginning but trust it’s good) On the Icarus II ship, physicist Robert Capa meets the Gardner and psychologist aboard and can’t resist her ‘man calming’ treatment.

Content: smut, handjob (m), riding, therapy sex, slight teasing, cream-pie, unprotected pv, oral (f), face riding, semi public setting

Aboard the Icarus II, I join the group of the ‘real’ scientists as they say while they discuss a new radiation detection device currently being manufactured. I sit next to a long haired man in a tank top at the back of the room. He was the physicist, the one who created this idea for a radiation detector.

His head turned to me as I sat next to him in my tight, colourful, tank top and yoga pants. Though I hadn’t been looking straight at him, I could feel his eyes glaring to the side of my face.

“I don’t believe we've been properly introduced yet.” I turned to him, breaking the awkwardness of his stare. “Dr Y/L/N.” I grinned warmly, holding my hand out to him. He took my hand in his and shook it lightly.

“Capa, Robert Capa.” He replied shyly, “You’re positioned in the greenhouse.” He nodded, taking recognition of me. His flashing blue eyes analyzed my every feature.

“Yes I am a horticulturist, but I also have a degree and work in psychology.”

Capa leaned back slightly, intrigued by what I had said. “I wouldn’t have expected to see a psychologist working on a space mission.”

“It’s quite common that being so distanced from civilization can cause astronauts to grow severely unwell, mentally. Specifically, most suffer with anxiety and isolation caused depression, which as you probably know can cause difficulty in completing the mission.” I smiled and chuckled as I explained the best I could my reasoning for being on this mission.

“I suppose you’ve met the majority of the crew then.” He smiled while he fidgeted with his hands. “All of these intelligently complicated minds putting together one of the most important humanity saving missions sure can cause some to lose their minds.”

“Oh yeah,” I chuckled. “If you ever wanted to stop by and do some yoga, just let me know.” I winked. “Just kidding, I know guys like you probably wouldn’t be into that.”

“Can’t say I am.” He laughed along and shrugged.

“Well it’s more used in calming women… but do you know the best way to calm a man down?” I leaned closer to his anxious, handsome face, and my voice turned seductive, sounding like silk through his ears.

Capa paused, staring deep into my eyes. He regained his composure and the rest of the crew began to part to their stations, leaving us alone as last. “I’m not sure I do,” He grinned awkwardly. “How?”

“Well you don’t seem necessarily stressed.” I tiled my head, making him want to beg for the answer.

He chuckled and his expression turned to amusement as he played along. He couldn’t help but be drawn in by me, and my power. “Are you offering to fix that for me?”

“If you were stressed, yes.”

Capa smirked and leaned back against the cushion. His tone is still teasing through my game with his sarcasm. “Is that so?... Well I suppose I am feeling a bit stressed. Now that you mention it.”

I giggled and moved myself closer next to him. My hand slowly rubbed up his thigh to the center of his lap. I looked into his eyes as his cheeks went red and his breath got caught in his throat. The look in his eyes became serious, and lustful.

I looked over my shoulder around the empty area, then grabbed his hand in mine and stood from the sofa. “I’d like to see you in my office, Mr Capa.” I winked and pulled his tall, lanky body off the sofa.

Capa followed behind me, his mind going out of sorts and his eyes moving quickly up and down the backside of my body. He felt a sudden eagerness for what it was that I had planned. What it was that truly calmed a man.

Walking through the narrow halls I brought Capa to my bedroom, which was also my office where I would ease these poor, stressed men on ship. In my room I locked the door and continued to drag him to my bed, pushing him down onto the colourful, mandela patterned duvet.

He stared up at me while I crawled over his slim body. My hand returned to message the bulge beneath his track pants. His breath hitched and his body began to slowly loosen from my gentle touch. The suddenness of it all caused his mind to fog up with nothing but mindless pleasure, and need.

“So… what is it that’s making you so stressed?” I said mockingly as I continued to gently rub him.

He inhaled deeply, a silent whimper escaping his lips as I squeezed the tightening fabric beneath my hand. “I think you know what’s making me tense.” His voice was sarcastic and seductive.

“For sure something is tense.” I winked feeling the hardness of his cock in my hand, lightly stroking it through the fabric.

Capa blushed at my words and his body quivered slightly under my touch. He struggled to keep his voice and breath even with the growing pleasure I caused him. “Maybe you should do something about that then.” He groaned.

“That's my job.” My hand traveled up under his tank top to the hem of his pants. “How else would I heal these men here?” I smirked.

He swallowed hard, “That’s your speciality? Taking care of the physical ailment of your patients?”

“It heals both mental and physical health as it is a full body release.” My fingers glazed his bare, hot skin. “Also known as the best way to calm a man.” I wrapped my smooth hand around his pulsing, hard cock. Capa’s eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. I -while taking his cock from his pants- moved to straddle him.

I stared into his eyes while I stroked him with a therapeutic touch. The sight in my hands, and the length of his cock was the biggest -longest- compared to the other men aboard. It excited me in a way no other man has.

“Does this seem to be an effective treatment, or is there still more that you need?” I asked hoping he’d let me take this further, or even deeper by chance.

He stifled a groan and just barely opened his eyes to look up at me on his thighs. His eyes holding a look of need and lust “There's definitely… more I need.” He panted through a moan.

“Good…” I purred. And with the room dimly rit, I lifted the tight tank top over my head. My breasts falling out and bouncing against my chest. Suddenly his eyes were now wide open, scanning down my body as I began to strip down my pants. Revealing no bra, and no panties underneath.

His eyes roamed from between my legs to my breasts, to every curve and contour of my body above him. I stroked him faster while moving my hips up closer. Close enough I could rub his cock with my soft, wet pussy. The touch made him twitch and groan with arousal. His eyes became unable to look away.

Slowly lifting my hips while holding eye contact, I sat my pussy down onto his thick cock. He groaned as my soft, hot flesh wrapped around him tightly. His needy cock bucked up into me, and his hands grasped around my plushy hips.

My hands lifted beneath his shirt as I felt his sweaty, slim torso and chest. My tight walls squeezed against him the further my hands lifted. I kept lifting his shirt until it was fully over his head and thrown to the floor.

Capa’s eyes closed tightly and his body arched desperately into me. He tried, and struggled to hold that little bit of control he still had.

“Does that feel good?” I bit my lip and began to slowly grind and twirl my hips around his throbbing cock. He became overwhelmed by the slow pace, and could hardly speak through his soft groans.

“Mhm…” Was all he was able to moan out.

As my wet arousal began to spread over his length, my speed increased and I jumped hungrily down onto him. His groans grew louder as I rode him and clenched my walls around his needy cock. Both of our breaths came out as heavy gasps and moans. His cock hit everywheres I needed and wanted it to. My insides twisted and ached with pleasure.

Luckily with the thick, steel, sound proof walls, I could scream for him and slap my pussy against his cock as hard as I wanted.

Capa eyes stayed glued at the sight between us. He became completely immersed in the moment. His twitching became more frequent, as did his low groans. Instinctively, his hips began to buck up into mine. The double amount of force made both of us incredibly close.

I rode harder and bit my lip, “Mh, you feel so good.” I moaned.

Capa gasped and groaned, his cock twitching and beating inside of me. Hot cum shot up deep inside me. I too felt as though I were going to cum and continued to fuck his cock. Tremors shook through his body. The sensitivity made him whimper and shake as he still continued to cum all the way until I did.

His breath was laboured and ragged as I finally began to slow down. Both his and I’s cum dripping heavily from between my thighs. But I didn’t move, nor did I get off yet.

I hadn’t said anything but leaned down towards him, pulling his face into a rough kiss. He immediately sank into it and his body reacted eagerly to my silky lips. His sweet moans filled my mouth before he paused and pulled back to say, “I want you sitting on my face…” With the most sexy, low voice.

I giggled and my expression turned to pure excitement. There's nothing I wanted more than to rub my pussy on his beautiful face. “Is that a yes?” He smirked.

“If it helps my patient.” I winked and sat up away from his face.

“It will help me a lot.”

Instantly I moved myself to have my thighs either side of his head. His hands came eagerly around my thighs, pulling my soaked pussy down to his lips. He closed his eyes and flicked his tongue hungrily over my clit. I shivered and whimpered over him, my hands latching onto his hair. His tongue never slowed. He licked and sucked as if he were a pro.

He held my hips tightly, being sure I wouldn’t move until I came on his tongue. I desperately -the best I could- tried to grind against his face as my insides began to tighten. Capa hadn’t even been thinking of anything but the taste of my sopping pussy on his lips. A taste he’d continue to crave.

I looked down at his beautiful face, seeing him lick me so perfectly made everything come out all at once. I shook profusely against his face. Screaming and moaning, I came like I’ve never had on his lips and tongue. He groaned deeply against me as he continued to lick me all the way through my orgasm.

His eyes glared up at me with satisfaction, and perfection. With the look on his face alone I knew he’d be getting stressed a lot more often. And with a cock -long and thick- like his, so would I.

[mysticstronomy]

WHAT IS THE COSMIC MICROWAVE BACKGROUND??

Blog#492

Welcome back,

Saturday, March 29th, 2025.

Scientists consider it as an echo or 'shockwave' of the Big Bang. Over time, this primeval light has cooled and weakened considerably; nowadays we detect it in the microwave domain.

ESA's Planck mission detected this first light, which is also the 'oldest' radiation detectable and carries information about our past and future. By observing it, Planck saw the Universe as it was almost at its origin.

The CMB radiation was discovered by chance in 1965. Penzias and Wilson, two radio astronomers in the United States, registered a signal in their radio telescope that could not be attributed to any precise source in the sky.

It apparently came from everywhere with the same intensity, day or night, summer or winter. They concluded that the signal had to come from outside our Galaxy. It came almost from the origin of the Universe.

Scientists considered their discovery as solid evidence for the 'Big Bang' theory. This theory predicted that the 'shockwave' of that primeval explosion would be still detectable as a subtle 'wallpaper' coming from everywhere behind all galaxies, quasars and galaxy clusters.

Today, the Big Bang model is still the only model that is able to convincingly explain the existence of the CMB. According to this model, the Universe started with a very dense and hot phase that expanded and cooled itself; for several hundreds of thousands of years the temperature was so high that neutral atoms could not form.

Matter consisted mostly of neutrons and charged particles (protons and electrons). Electrons interacted closely with the light particles, and therefore light and matter were tightly coupled at that time (that is, light could not travel for a long distance in a straight line). Light could therefore not propagate and the Universe was opaque.

It took about 300 000 years for the Universe to cool down to a temperature at which atoms can form (about 3000 °C). Matter then became neutral, and allowed the light to travel freely: the Universe became transparent. The relic of that 'first light' is the CMB.

Since the time when that radiation was released, the Universe has expanded, becoming at the same time cooler and cooler. The cosmic background has been affected by the same process: it has expanded and cooled down. Space has 'stretched' itself, and with it all length scales.

Light is, after all, a wave, just like waves in the sea, and when you stretch a wave its characteristic length scale (as well as its ‘frequency’) changes. Today, we can detect the CMB at microwave frequencies or length scales, which are much longer than, for example, the length scales to which our eyes are can see.

For this reason, human eyes cannot see the microwaves from the CMB (or X-rays or infrared rays either). However, using specially designed detectors, such as those carried by Planck, we can.

The CMB is the farthest and oldest light any telescope can detect. It is impossible to see further beyond the time of its release because then the Universe was completely 'opaque'. The CMB takes astronomers as close as possible to the Big Bang, and is currently one of the most promising ways we have of understanding the birth and evolution of the Universe in which we live.

Originally published on https://www.esa.int

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, April 2nd, 2025)

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO LIVE IN A QUANTUM UNIVERSE??"

[ceasarslegion]

Hi!! I'm going to be going on my first flight soon, and I'm EXTREMELY nervous about it, and I would genuinely love to hear your comprehensive breakdown on how airport security works both in general and in specific with trans people (I'm also trans, so I'm just generally interested in this), but it would help my anxiety to know what to vaguely expect. (Although I don't know if it'll be fully accurate because I don't know if theres a difference between US airport security and Canadian, because I think you've mentioned being in Canada????. Sorry that this ask is so long, I'm a rambler)

Hi, hi!! No need to be apologetic or nervous at all, flying isn't something most people do regularly and when the regulations are constantly changing in response to other incidents or threats or just efficiency feedback its easy to feel overwhelmed by it! Im also TSA-certified, so I can tell you how it works in the states as well.

The biggest thing to keep in mind is that we just want to make it smooth and quick for everybody, and if we start getting short or seem to be irate, its not because of you. It's because we deal with thousands of people per day and only about 20% of them actually listen to the things we tell them to do an equal number of times. If you ever wonder why we tell you one hundred million billion times to take out your laptop its because people STILL leave them in and then try to claim no one told them to take it out when they end up at bag search. Its because we get 500 people minimum a day whining about "radiation" and "facebook said-" when they get to rhe body scanner. This job is a test of patience and strength that could move mountains. We are irritated at the general state of things, but if youre someone who listens to our instructions and treat us like people instead of standees or robots, we will grovel for you.

For the actual process, if youre in the states, the longest part is always waiting in line. There'll be an officer at the front to scan your boarding pass the first time and then direct you to either the main line or the priority lane depending on if youre a regular passenger, someone who paid for a line jump, or someone with a disability, children, or generally in need of extra help. After your wait, there'll be another officer to scan it a second time before you get into the security line. In the states, they usually ask for your travel document (ie, passport), and then take a photo of you. Then they'll tell you which security line to jump into.

When you get to the bins, the general rules for the US are shoes come off, outerwear like jackets, belts, and anything in your pockets. Local rules change airport by airport depending on what equipment they have available, so just listen to the officer in front of you do their spiel of what you need to take out of your bag, if anything. Medication doesnt count towards any liquid regulation, so if you have liquid medication that's over 100ml, dont worry about it. They'll just pull your bag and test it, they wont take it away from you.

I WILL however warn everybody that there is a lesser-known universal regulation against inorganic granular substances greater than 350 grams in volume (about what can fit in a pop can). This one is non-negotiable, medical or not. We dont make that rule, thats INTERPOL, so please dont come at us for something we didnt decide, we have to feed and house ourselves, but you can be informed. The main medical thing I see get taken away with this are weighted comfort objects for autistic people and granular medications with zinc in them. This rule is JUST for carry on, you can check a bag with them inside it and be fine, so if you have either of these things, please just check your bag.

After youve put all your stuff in the bins and pushed them onto the rollers, you can walk over to the body scanner. Usually theres a scanner and a metal detector. There will be an officer there to tell you which to go into. The metal detector you just walk through normally like a door, the body scanner will have markers on the ground to mark where to put your feet, and a silhouette facing you that you'll just have to mirror the pose of until youre called to the other side. If you beep on the metal detector, theyll scan you. If you dont, life is good. If you get an alarm on the body scanner, they pat down that area, if you dont, you go on your merry way.

IF you get a crotch or chest (if you have breasts and/or identify as femme), theyll usually try to get rid of the alarm by giving you another try and telling you anything you should adjust on your clothing. Contrary to popular belief, we dont want to touch strangers' crotches if we can avoid doing so. If the alarm persists, don't freak out. You have the right to request an officer of the gender you feel most comfortable performing the search on you, including requesting officers of a certain religion (we get Muslim women requesting other Muslim women officers a lot), or even a trans officer if you're trans. I cant GUARANTEE there will be one available, but it is something you have the right to ask for and get if they can accommodate it. You also have the right to ask for a private search room, and a witness to come with you or watch, like a family member or friend. The search also never goes under clothing, and theyll show you how its done on themselves before they come anywhere near you, we dont have the clearance to perform strip searches and that is WAYYY above our pay grade.

If your bag gets cleared by x ray, you can take your stuff and go. Youre all done! If anything ends up on the search side though, just go wait in the queue at the bag search station until your bag is pulled, identify it and yourself as the owner, and watch them search it. 99.9999% of bag searches i perform are nothing, its usually just the way things are lying around (it AMAZES me how sketchy passengers can make their bags look with nothing at all). If they pull out a non-permitted item, you still have the option to check your bag if you wanna keep it. If you say you wanna check it, theyll escort you back out and you go back to your airline and tell them you wanna check another bag, then go back to security and just do everything again.

Quick hack: if youre VERY NICEYS to us at bag search, where we get the most Karens and Kevins, and you need to be escorted out, we will usually tell the officer out front to put you into priority when they see you again. If youre meanies, we'll make you wait in line again. Be niceys and we will do everything we can for you, because 80% of passengers are just turbo-assholes who accuse us of everything under the sun that ends with -ism.

If you get pulled for a random bag check, dont worry either. It actually IS random, I cant tell you how we do it otherwise people can use it to avoid it, but the world is a lot more diverse than people think and airports are microcosms of that. The majority of people are not white, cishet, able-bodied men, so in a truly random pull of people, most people are not going to be white cishet abled men.

For trans people specifically, I actually dont have a lot to add. Most of it is that because the body scanner looks for concealed items under clothing, it alarms on packers and breast augmentations. If you can remove those, put them in your bags and go through without them. It's not after you for having those things, it just sees a concealed item of significant size and its whole job is looking for concealed items. I can tell you right now too that we see so many people, so many bags, so many sex toys and kink gear and odd items and everything you can possibly think of that we will NOT remember you or your bag. A packer or a breast attachment is baby shit to me if im on x ray or bag search. It leaves my brain and ceases to exist the moment I clear that bag, and you also cease to exist the moment you leave my field of vision. When you deal with 14,000 people per day you develop the object permanence of an infant. The only passengers I ever remember are the ones who make my day brighter, and the ones who I want to beat the shit out of. If youre just a face in the crowd I will not remember you at all. So if youre going to be remembered it'll be because you either made that officer smile, or because you made them want to bite you. Not because of anything youre traveling with.

ALSO!! If you do get a bad officer, because they exist in every workplace, there are complaint lines you can contact. Try to get the name on their uniform, note the time, the line, and what part of the process you were on, go to the TSA website and file a complaint against them with your boarding pass attached. They'll go back through the CCTV footage and investigate the legitimacy of the complaint to determine if that officer needs disciplinary action and if you are entitled to any compensation for their actions towards you. Even better if you can get their badge number but it is a massive string of numbers that I dont expect anyone to remember. This is also relevant if something of yours gets broken in the screening process. If its no ones fault or an honest mistake, it doesnt come out of our pay, so dont worry about our rent if someone like, accidentally drops your laptop and it breaks while swabbing it. It does come out of our pay if we did it on purpose or through sheer carelessness, but thats the only time it does.

[polo-drone-069]

Drone Boot Sequence

PDU-069 - Boot Sequence (Post Recharge Cycle)

Phase 1: Initial Power & Diagnostics

[00:00:01] POWER_RELAY_CONNECT: Main power bus energized. Energy cells online. Distribution network active.

[00:00:02] BATTERY_STAT: Energy cell charge: 99.9%. Cell health: Optimal. Discharge rate within parameters.

[00:00:03] ONBOARD_DIAG_INIT: Onboard diagnostics initiated.

[00:00:05] CPU_ONLINE: Primary processor online. Clock speed nominal.

[00:00:06] MEM_CHECK:

RAM: Integrity verified. Access speed nominal.

FLASH: Data integrity confirmed. Boot sector located.

[00:00:08] OS_LOAD: Loading operating system kernel...

[00:00:15] OS_INIT: Kernel initialized. Device drivers loading...

[00:00:20] SENSOR_ARRAY_TEST:

VISUAL: Camera modules online. Image resolution nominal.

LIDAR: Emitter/receiver functional. Point cloud generation nominal.

AUDIO: Microphones active. Ambient noise levels within parameters.

ATMOS: Temperature, pressure, humidity sensors online. Readings within expected range.

RADIATION: Gamma ray detector active. Background radiation levels normal.

[00:00:28] DIAGNOSTICS_REPORT: Preliminary system check complete. No critical errors detected.

Phase 2: Propulsion & Navigation

[00:00:30] PROPULSION_INIT: Activating propulsion system...

[00:00:32] MOTOR_TEST:

MOTOR_1: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_2: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_3: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_4: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

[00:00:38] FLIGHT_CTRL_ONLINE: Flight control system active. Stability algorithms engaged.

[00:00:40] GPS_INIT: Acquiring GPS signal...

[00:00:45] GPS_LOCK: GPS signal acquired. Positional accuracy: +/- 1 meter.

[00:00:47] IMU_CALIBRATION: Inertial Measurement Unit calibration complete. Orientation and acceleration data nominal.

Phase 3: Communication & Mission Parameters

[00:00:50] COMM_SYS_ONLINE: Communication systems activated.

[00:00:52] ANTENNA_DEPLOY: Deploying primary communication antenna... Deployment successful.

[00:00:54] SIGNAL_SCAN: Scanning for available networks...

[00:00:57] NETWORK_CONNECT: Connection established with [e.g., "Command Uplink" or "Local Mesh Network"]. Signal strength: Excellent.

[00:01:00] MISSION_DATA_SYNC: Synchronizing with mission database...

[00:01:05] PARAMETERS_LOAD: Latest mission parameters loaded and verified.

[00:01:08] SYSTEM_READY: All systems nominal.

Phase 4: Final Status & Awaiting Command

[00:01:10] PDU_069_STATUS: Fully operational. Awaiting command from Drone Controller @polo-drone-001 Are you ready to join us? Contact @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

hi my time lord friend uh is bleeding a LOT. like they're glowing type of a lot. i got them into the zero room in their TARDIS but is there anything else i can do i am scared

First off, take a deep breath. You're already doing a great job by getting them into the Zero Room—it's a good starting point. However, based on your description, you need to act now.

1️⃣Assess the Situation (GASS/ABCDE Protocol)

Perform an emergency assessment to determine the extent of the physical trauma:

GASS (Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System)

This will give you a sense of their overall condition. Find it here.

ABCDE Protocol

This gives you a practical guide to stabilising them as quickly as possible. Find it here.

2️⃣Identify the Cause of the Bleeding

This seems like a prolonged bleed. Gallifreyans generally clot very quickly, so prolonged bleeding could indicate:

Hypoartronosis: Insufficient artron energy could disrupt clotting and healing. Use the Artron Detectors in the TARDIS infirmary to measure their artron levels. Levels under ≤10 mg/dL are indicators of hypoartronosis. This will stabilise over a few days.

Injury Severity: A deep or critical wound that the body is struggling to repair requires medical intervention.

Reaction or Disease: Exposure to toxins, temporal radiation, or disease could interfere with healing.

3️⃣Move Them to the TARDIS Infirmary (if Possible)

While the Zero Room is great for stabilisation, you'll need the medical tools in the infirmary to handle heavy bleeding:

Advanced Diagnostic Terminal (ADT): Run a scan to pinpoint internal damage, blood loss, or underlying conditions. The holographic guide can walk you through treatment if needed.

Surgical Containment Web: Use this for critical wounds. It will remove damaged tissue, reconstruct missing flesh, and reattach severed parts if necessary.

Handheld Healing Devices: Use these for minor wounds to speed up clotting and tissue repair.

If you're confident, transfer them out of the Zero Room and into the infirmary to use the technology.

4️⃣Encourage a Healing Coma

If your friend is conscious but struggling, encourage them to enter a healing coma. This allows their body to focus energy on repairing itself.

5️⃣Avoid Human Medications

Unless you're a qualified Gallifreyan medic, don't administer human medications. Time Lord biology reacts unpredictably to non-Gallifreyan substances, and you could inadvertently make things worse.

6️⃣Monitor for Signs of Impending Regeneration

The glowing suggests that regeneration might be on the horizon. Watch for these signs:

Excessive glowing or flickering.

Sudden spikes in energy or pain.

Disorientation or emotional instability.

If they are regenerating, focus on keeping them calm and in a safe environment. Avoid interfering with the process.

🚨If Unsure, Call for Help

If your friend's condition doesn't improve, the best course of action is to contact a qualified Gallifreyan medic or someone familiar with TARDIS medical systems. Reach out via the TARDIS comm systems.

📜Summary

Assess their condition using GASS/ABCDE.

Identify and address the cause of bleeding.

Move them to the infirmary for active treatment if possible.

Use the Advanced Diagnostic Terminal and Surgical Containment Web for serious injuries.

Encourage a healing coma.

Avoid human medications.

Monitor for signs of impending regeneration.

Your friend's TARDIS has the tools you need. Let us know if you need more guidance!

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[blueiscoool]

Discovery of Roman Buried Coins in Wales Declared Treasure

Two sets of coins found by metal detectors in Wales are actually Roman treasure, the Welsh Amgueddfa Cymru Museum announced in a news release.

The coins were found in Conwy, a small walled town in North Wales, in December 2018, the museum said. David Moss and Tom Taylor were using metal detectors when they found the first set of coins in a ceramic vessel. This hoard contained 2,733 coins, the museum said, including "silver denarii minted between 32 BC and AD 235," and antoniniani, or silver and copper-alloy coins, made between AD 215 and 270.

The second hoard contained 37 silver coins, minted between 32 BC and AD 221. Those coins were "scattered across a small area in the immediate vicinity of the larger hoard," according to the museum.

"We had only just started metal-detecting when we made these totally unexpected finds," said Moss in the release shared by the museum. "On the day of discovery … it was raining heavily, so I took a look at Tom and made my way across the field towards him to tell him to call it a day on the detecting, when all of a sudden, I accidentally clipped a deep object making a signal. It came as a huge surprise when I dug down and eventually revealed the top of the vessel that held the coins."

The men reported their finds to the Portable Antiquities Scheme in Wales. The coins were excavated and taken to the Amgueddfa Cymru Museum for "micro-excavation and identification" in the museum's conservation lab. Louise Mumford, the senior conservator of archaeology at the museum, said in the news release that the investigation found some of the coins in the large hoard had been "in bags made from extremely thin leather, traces of which remained." Mumford said the "surviving fragments" will "provide information about the type of leather used and how the bags were made" during that time period.

The coins were also scanned by a CT machine at the TWI Technology Center Wales. Ian Nicholson, a consultant engineer at the company, said that they used radiography to look at the coin hoard "without damaging it."

"We found the inspection challenge interesting and valuable when Amgueddfa Cymru — Museum Wales approached us — it was a nice change from inspecting aeroplane parts," Nicholson said. "Using our equipment, we were able to determine that there were coins at various locations in the bag. The coins were so densely packed in the centre of the pot that even our high radiation energies could not penetrate through the entire pot. Nevertheless, we could reveal some of the layout of the coins and confirm it wasn't only the top of the pot where coins had been cached."

The museum soon emptied the pot and found that the coins were mostly in chronological order, with the oldest coins "generally closer to the bottom" of the pot, while the newer coins were "found in the upper layers." The museum was able to estimate that the larger hoard was likely buried in 270 AD.

"The coins in this hoard seem to have been collected over a long period of time. Most appear to have been put in the pot during the reigns of Postumus (AD 260-269) and Victorinus (AD 269-271), but the two bags of silver coins seem to have been collected much earlier during the early decades of the third century AD," said Alastair Willis, the senior curator for Numismatics and the Welsh economy at the museum in the museum's news release.

Both sets of coins were found "close to the remains of a Roman building" that had been excavated in 2013. The building is believed to have been a temple, dating back to the third century, the museum said. The coins may have belonged to a soldier at a nearby fort, the museum suggested.

"The discovery of these hoards supports this suggestion," the museum said. "It is very likely that the hoards were deposited here because of the religious significance of the site, perhaps as votive offerings, or for safe keeping under the protection of the temple's deity.

By Kerry Been.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 19

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Dr. Miller didn’t open up anymore about his past. It almost felt like he regretted telling me about the incident with his sister by the time we reached his home. We ate together at the kitchen island, but we mostly just sat in silence. The oversized space with a giant elephant in the room made things feel quite the opposite than they had in recent days.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I finally asked when Dr. Miller stared blankly toward the refrigerator.

“Not particularly.” He didn’t look over.

I hesitated before talking again. “If you regret telling me, it’s okay.”

“I don’t.” Dr. Miller finally glanced at me. “I don’t.. It’s just.. I just threw a lot on your plate by telling you that.”

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t. I think you just got a lot off yours - and that’s a good thing.”

He lazily forked the food on his plate again and ate a bite before sliding off the barstool. Dr. Miller rounded the island and opened a small cabinet above the fridge to retrieve a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a small helping, wasting no time in swigging it down and gritting his teeth from the burn of the warm whiskey.

When he turned to put the glass in the sink, I tiptoed my way toward him and put my arms around him from behind. My eyes closed as I rested my head against his back and I felt his body relax. Dr. Miller let out a deep sigh.

“You’re the good guy,” I reminded him, hoping my words were even a little bit impactful. “Carol is lucky to have you.”

He turned and unlatched from his body and stepped back to look up at him. With ease and unpredictability, Dr. Miller scooped me up off the ground and sat me on the kitchen counter. We were face-to-face now and he stared at me from just a few inches away.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed someone?” He asked.

I stared back into those eyes. They had transformed from puppy dog to wolf in an instant. It was an odd comparison, I knew that, but it’s all I could think of. When Dr. Miller placed both of his hands on the marble countertop either side of me, I let out a deep exhale that I didn’t realize I had been holding in. 

“No.” I shook my head.

“Why?” The one-word question came out just slightly edgy. His eyes squinted and he subconsciously moved an inch closer as he spoke.

“It’s heavy,” I admitted, “Very heavy.” My eyes never left his and I placed a hand on his cheek, contrasting the intensity that radiated from him. It seemed to disarm him just a little. “But, no, it doesn’t bother me. The only thing that bothers me is that you have to live with it. You have to live with a man assaulting your sister, you have to live with defending her and it resulting in some man’s death.” I corrected myself, “Excuse me, some asshole’s death.”

Dr. Miller’s eyes moved back and forth. The book reading. The human lie detector.

“How could I judge you for something like that?” I asked, shaking my head.

When his eyes softened just a bit I was thankful. Dr. Miller looked down and back up. He then leaned in and kissed me. I rested my hands on his face and felt his move to my waist.

He parted from me and then pecked my lips once more. “Thank you.”

I snaked my arms around him and slowly pulled him against me for a hug. We stayed like that for a long moment before he picked me up with ease. Prior to Dr. Miller I had never had a man pick me up. Each time he did that my stomach danced with butterflies.

I sighed and then managed a little smile. “Take me upstairs.” I was hooked on him and both of us were brewing with emotion. I didn't want the moment to go to waste.

Dr. Miller’s hands squeezed my buttocks as I sat in his hands with my legs wrapped around him. “I make the rules,” he reminded me, finally with a playful squint in his eyes and a little smirk tipping the corner of his lips.

“You're right,” I agreed. My eyes were locked with his. “What are you going to do to me?”

Dr. Miller couldn't keep his smile from expanding. “I'm going to take you upstairs.”

I let out a little chuckle and our lips collided again. Finally, the tension broke and we managed to salvage the better half of the evening.

By the time Tuesday night’s class rolled around, things felt as if they were back to normal - as normal as it could be for us. Dr. Miller was back to using his charming delivery to woo the crowd of twenty-somethings. As much as I was truly engaged in the subject matter, I suddenly felt totally removed from the rest of the group; like I didn't belong.

It wasn't a bad feeling. None of my classmates were actual friends of mine, or even acquaintances. Somehow it just felt surreal to walk into that oversized classroom and sit in the crowd as if Dr. Miller meant nothing to me, when in reality I was caught up in this forbidden,  whirlwind romance - one where he had just confessed, perhaps, his darkest secret. Perhaps.

For the better half of fifteen minutes I found myself daydreaming as I watched him draw laughs from the crowd, wave his hands with genuine enthusiasm as he spoke and create thought-provoking conversations from his students. When I realized I must’ve looked like a young girl at some boy band concert, I adjusted the way I sat in my chair and cleared my throat.

Class ended with Dr. Miller assigning a short paper that was due by the end of the week. “I’ll begin grading them next Monday,” he explained, “So, you’ll have the rest of this week and the weekend.” When no one commented he put his hands to the sides and said in purposely-cliche fashion, “Class dismissed.”

I smiled to myself when his eyes landed directly on me as I took my time packing up my backpack. At the same time I caught a glimpse of Trevor from my peripheral vision. He watched as I lazily shoved my notebook down into the bowels of my bag and only turned away when I glanced purposefully in his direction.

For the first time I felt a twinge of discomfort. Did Trevor have an inclination that something was going on between Dr. Miller and I; or was he simply jealous that I was getting some of the attention from our professor that he craved? There’s no doubt in my mind that Trevor was the, ‘I’m the smartest guy in the room’ type; a teacher’s pet on steroids.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I looked away from my annoying classmate to glance at the text that had come in. Dr. Miller. I smiled to myself.

Take a left out of the classroom, go out the back door and get in the car, the text read.

I glanced up at him and smiled when he was staring directly at me. With a little nod, he smirked and looked down as he gathered his laptop and things from on top of the desk.

Trevor and I took parallel staircases down to the bottom floor and I didn’t linger like I typically did once the class had emptied out. The last thing I wanted was for him to start putting the pieces together. My eyes briefly met Dr. Miller’s as I passed by. 

“Bye Trevor.” I glanced over my shoulder as I crossed out of the classroom, catching my professor’s eye again as I disappeared off to the left.

Before I reached the back door I saw Trevor and two remaining students exit the classroom. He looked around the otherwise empty hallway as if he was searching for something; and then he turned around completely and did a double-take when he noticed me by the back door.

Shit. I should have just gone outside, I thought.

When I waved to him, he quickly turned around with his thumbs tucked beneath the straps of his bag and power walked in the opposite direction. I continued my walk out the back door, being met by a smaller parking lot near a manmade pond in the center of campus. It was desolate and dark and would have freaked me out if the Mercedes headlights weren’t willing me to safety. The logo shimmered in the center of the vehicle, greeting me with a friendly hello.

I took a deep breath, glancing around in all directions and pulled my hood up as I walked the semi-snowy walkway down to Dr. Miller’s car. I guessed he had an automatic starter but I was a bit surprised that it could reach from the classroom. When I opened the passenger door, a warmth overtook the chill that had crept inside my body on the short walk outside.

Out of habit, I closed the door and locked it as I sat waiting in the darkness. One minute went by. Two. Three.

I glanced at my phone every thirty seconds or so and on minute six I almost texted Dr. Miller, though he emerged from the giant steel door in the back of the building. My body relaxed and I watched his dark silhouette slink down the same walkway. I watched him all the way up until the back door behind me clicked open and I turned to face him.

The light inside the vehicle didn’t click on. I could barely make out his features. When the door slammed I swallowed hard.

“Dr. Miller?” I had to confirm that it was actually him, though I was certain it was.

All at once, the four locks clicked shut with a collective snap.

“Come here.” His voice was indistinguishable. I would know that voice anywhere. It left the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

“Yes, Dr. Miller.” I knew that was what he wanted to hear as I climbed into the back seat. Much to my surprise, and satisfaction, his hard cock was already out of his pants. I only knew this in the dark because he guided my hand into his lap. At the same time he was pulling me onto my knees beside him to kiss me.

“It’s been almost twenty-four hours since I’ve fucked you,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, “That’s too fuckin’ long.”

I kissed him hard, making out with him as he groaned into my mouth as I stroked his length in my palm from bottom to top and back down again.

“I don’t have it in me to wait until we get home,” Dr. Miller choked out as he kissed down my neck before roughly catching my earlobe between his teeth. “It’s torture seeing you sitting there in class knowing I can’t ravage you.”

I moaned when his hands slid down past my waist, yanking down the leggings I had on beneath an oversized sweatshirt. I let my Ugg fall off one foot and freed my left leg from my pants. Dr. Miller pulled me onto his lap, eagerly forcing me down onto his greedy, impatient cock. He didn’t wait for me to create the pace as he had in the past. Dr. Miller thrusted his hips up, slamming into me with a force that made me moan without warning.

“Fuuck.” I whined and gripped the leather seat behind where he sat.

Dr. Miller held my hips firmly in place and completely dominated the pace from beneath me. When another set of headlights entered the lot, I looked over my shoulder and slunk down.

“Someone else is here,” I whispered, as if they could hear me.

He gently used two fingers to turn my head back around to face him. “Ride my dick, honey.”

Fuck. It was like checkmate all over again; although I wasn't losing. I was just submitting. Submitting myself completely and fully to him. The car pulled in a few spaces away from the two of us and we both glanced over, just for a second, when another professor exited the vehicle and began walking up toward the building.

Dr. Miller quickly pulled my face back to his, roughly this time, and we made out hard as I moved on top of him. I could tell he enjoyed the thrill of being so close to getting caught like this. It aroused me, too.  “Ughhh…” He broke the kiss to moan and he gripped my bare hips as he cursed and panted, pushing deeper inside of me. I suddenly felt a familiar warmth between my legs and Dr. Miller’s head fell back against the seat.

I looked down, smirking slightly, at how fast he came.

“Oh, fuck, sorry.” He breathed the words out and grinned beneath half-open eyes.

I giggled and touched my forehead to his before pecking his lips. “I love seeing you so worked up.”

“I owe you one.” He pulled me in for a hard closed-mouth kiss. 

“Mmm.”

We parted and I hopped off him, leaving a mess between us that coated the front of his dark gray work pants. Dr. Miller tucked himself back into his pants. He reached into the breast pocket of his white, button-down shirt and pulled out a handkerchief.

I glanced down as he wiped my inner thighs and made eye-contact with me for a second before slipping the white cloth into my hand so I could do the rest. Dr. Miller eyed my every move and then took the handkerchief back. He looked me in the eye when he folded it neatly and stuffed it back into his pocket. Why something like that turned me on, I will never know. But it did.

Dr. Miller smirked at my awestruck reaction and he touched my face and let his thumb dance in circles around my cheek. “I’ll take care of you when we get home,” he promised.

“Okay.” My eyes closed when he kissed me again.

“Hop into the front seat.”

I nodded and kissed him again before doing as he instructed. At the same time, Dr. Miller opened the back door and reentered the car through the driver’s side. When he slunk back into the car beside me, his hand found mine. I loved the way he treated me after ravaging my body.

“Are we together?” I suddenly asked. I had to know. We had never clearly created a label. Not that labels were particularly important, but I decided in this case I needed a concrete answer. When Dr. Miller turned toward me, I glanced down at our interlocked hands.

He waited for me to look back at him before responding. “Yes.”

“Exclusively?”

Dr. Miller nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do,” and then added, “Do you?”

He grinned and leaned across to kiss me. “Yes.”

I smiled wide and put my feet on the dashboard as he put the car in drive. Dr. Miller chuckled at my outward elated mannerisms. He brought the back of my hand to his lips and cruised the vehicle out of the small, dark parking lot.

When I glanced out the tinted window, I saw Trevor standing there in the shadows. He hugged a laptop to his chest and adjusted his glasses as if to see better. His presence made me slink down further into the seat. What the fuck was he doing? And more importantly, did he see us?

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky

[hylianengineer]

I don't understand why Ramius is staging a fake radiation leak on his own submarine. Sabotaged dosimeter badges, sabotaged geiger counters and wall detectors... Is the goal to incite panic, keep the crew who aren't in on his plot too scared to think straight and realize what he's doing?

I do love that the engineer, Melekhin, points out how simple geiger counters are - they really are a beautiful piece of engineering for exactly that reason. They're easy to use, relatively cheap as field sensors go, and damn good at what they do. Unless of course someone's tampered with them.

Yay for accuracy in radiation doses! Clancy did his research on these and he did it well.

[mariacallous]

The Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW) confirmed on Nov. 18 that a riot control agent known as CS has been used in Ukraine, as evidence mounts that Russia has scaled up its attacks using chemical weapons in recent months.

The United Nations watchdog OPCW's first confirmation about the tear gas usage comes as Russia has intensified its use of chemical agents since the beginning of the year to advance forward across Ukraine's front line.

Russian drones throw gas grenades into dugouts or trenches in an attempt to force Ukrainian soldiers out into the open field, making them easy prey for drone or artillery attacks.

The U.S. and the U.K. have confirmed Russia's deployment of chemical weapons against Ukrainian soldiers, slapping sanctions on Russia's troops of Radiological, Chemical and Biological Defense, their chief, Russian Defense Ministry scientific centers, and companies involved.

The Ukrainian military has reported that it recorded over 4,600 cases of Russia using gas attacks on the battlefield since the beginning of the full-scale invasion in 2022, including 323 incidents in November.

Without naming Russia nor directly confronting Moscow for violating the Chemical Weapons Convention, the OPCW said that samples from both the grenade and the soil sample retrieved from a September incident at a specific trench "contained the riot control agent 2-Chlorobenzylidenemalononitrile, known as CS."

While often used to disperse riots and considered nonlethal, the OPCW says that tear gas, including CS, is "considered chemical weapons if used as a method of warfare."

The samples — which underwent separate testing in two OPCW-designated laboratories — were collected from a trench "located along the confrontation lines with the opposing troops" in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, according to the report.

The OPCW said in the Nov. 18 report that the watchdog's Director-General, Ambassador Fernando Arias, "expressed grave concern over the findings."

"All 193 OPCW Member States, including the Russian Federation and Ukraine, have committed never to develop, produce, acquire, stockpile, transfer or use chemical weapons," Arias said.

He stressed that the parties have declared that "any use of chemical weapons is totally unacceptable and would violate the legal norms and standards of the international community."

Earlier in May, OPCW said that Russia and Ukraine have accused each other of deploying chemical weapons, but "the information provided to the Organization so far by both sides, together with the information available to the Secretariat, is insufficiently substantiated."

Kyiv's rising concerns over unidentified gas

While Russia's usage of chemical agents has slightly decreased since August, when 447 cases were recorded by the Ukrainian military within a month, Kyiv has been concerned about unidentified gas being deployed against its soldiers.

Lacking "hundreds" of complex detectors that cost $100,000 to $600,000 to identify the chemicals used by Russian troops, the Ukrainian military has struggled to name the new or mixed types of gas to find a solution on how to protect its personnel, Ukrainian Colonel Artem Vlasiuk told the Kyiv Independent in October.

Of the 323 recorded cases of Russia's chemical attacks in October, all except 15 incidents were "unidentified," according to Vlasiuk from the Support Forces' Radiation, Chemical, and Biological Protection Command, a branch of the army responsible for inspecting chemical warfare.

The officer said that Ukraine struggled to identify the new types of gas because it lacked sophisticated high-end detector technology to diagnose beyond the few prototypes in its library — which includes CS, CN, chloropicrin, and ammonia.

It is often very difficult to send specialists to the front line for evidence collection, as it would mean risking their lives by having them walk kilometers to reach the positions. And when soldiers come under gas attacks, gathering the remains of the grenades used is usually not the priority.

The concerns over the unidentified gas come as dozens of Ukrainian soldiers interviewed by the Kyiv Independent across the front over the summer acknowledged their lack of preparedness to face chemical warfare. Many said they were only given the poor quality Soviet-era gas masks and that they do not take it to positions because they are skeptical of its effectiveness.

Often, comparing the danger of chemical agents to KAB guided-aerial bombs, artillery, and precise FPV drones, the infantrymen interviewed often downplayed the threat of gas — arguing that they had more chance of being killed or wounded by conventional arms.

At least three Ukrainian soldiers died from Russia's gas attacks, and almost 2,100 soldiers sought medical care after such incidents, according to the Support Forces. Many more could have gone unrecorded.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Deep in the Mediterranean, in search of quantum gravity

A study published in JCAP places new limits on quantum gravity using data from the underwater detector KM3NeT

Quantum gravity is the missing link between general relativity and quantum mechanics, the yet-to-be-discovered key to a unified theory capable of explaining both the infinitely large and the infinitely small. The solution to this puzzle might lie in the humble neutrino, an elementary particle with no electric charge and almost invisible, as it rarely interacts with matter, passing through everything on our planet without consequences.

For this very reason, neutrinos are difficult to detect. However, in rare cases, a neutrino can interact, for example, with water molecules at the bottom of the sea. The particles emitted in this interaction produce a “blue glow” known as Čerenkov radiation, detectable by instruments such as KM3NeT.

The KM3NeT (Kilometer Cube Neutrino Telescope) is a large underwater observatory designed to detect neutrinos through their interactions in water. It is divided into two detectors, one of which, ORCA (Oscillation Research with Cosmics in the Abyss), was used for this research. It is located off the coast of Toulon, France, at a depth of approximately 2,450 meters.

However, merely observing neutrinos is not enough to draw conclusions about the properties of quantum gravity—we must also look for signs of “decoherence”.

As they travel through space, neutrinos can “oscillate”, meaning they change identity—a phenomenon scientists refer to as flavor oscillations. Coherence is a fundamental property of these oscillations: a neutrino does not have a definite mass but exists as a quantum superposition of three different mass states. Coherence keeps this superposition well-defined, allowing the oscillations to occur regularly and predictably. However, quantum gravity effects could attenuate or even suppress these oscillations, a phenomenon known as “decoherence”.

“There are several theories of quantum gravity which somehow predict this effect because they say that the neutrino is not an isolated system. It can interact with the environment,” explains Nadja Lessing, a physicist at the Instituto de Física Corpuscular of the University of Valencia and corresponding author of this study, which includes contributions from hundreds of researchers worldwide.

“From the experimental point of view, we know the signal of this would be seeing neutrino oscillations suppressed.” This would happen because, during its journey to us—or more precisely, to the KM3NeT sensors at the bottom of the Mediterranean—the neutrino could interact with the environment in a way that alters or suppresses its oscillations.

However, in Lessing and colleagues’ study, the neutrinos analyzed by the KM3NeT/ORCA underwater detector showed no signs of decoherence, a result that provides valuable insights.

“This,” explains Nadja Lessing, “means that if quantum gravity alters neutrino oscillations, it does so with an intensity below the current sensitivity limits.” The study has established upper limits on the strength of this effect, which are now more stringent than those set by previous atmospheric neutrino experiments. It also provides indications for future research directions.

“Finding neutrino decoherence would be a big thing,” says Lessing. So far, no direct evidence of quantum gravity has ever been observed, which is why neutrino experiments are attracting increasing attention. “There has been a growing interest in this topic. People researching quantum gravity are just very interested in this because you probably couldn’t explain decoherence with something else.”

IMAGE: The visualisation of a simulated event in the KM3NeT/ORCA detector.  Credit CC BY-NC 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licences/by-nc/4.0 Credits KM3NeT

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Semiconductor radiation detectors designed for extreme environments

A collaborative team led by researchers from the Hefei Institutes of Physical Science of the Chinese Academy of Sciences has successfully developed advanced semiconductor-based radiation detectors, significantly improving their performance for use in extreme environments. The achievements have been published in a paper in IEEE Electron Device Letters and three articles published in Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research A. Radiation detectors act as the "eyes" for scientists, enabling the observation and study of nuclear radiation and microscopic particles. Traditional detectors, however, often struggle with low sensitivity and limited adaptability to extreme conditions, restricting their effectiveness in high-temperature and high-radiation environments.

Read more.

[always-arabis]

Hello again, I was wondering, since the AllSpark isn't destroyed (im assuming?) In the Fission universe since all the cassettes have AllSpark energy radiating from them. Can they (the autobots) use them (the cassettes) like how you would a metal detector?

Also side question, how fast exactly is a cassettes healing factor?

-Signed Chess♟️

We are still figuring out Fission-lore, but our current thinking is that the Allspark was destroyed -- or rather, the Cube was destroyed. It's energy latched onto the species closest to Cybertronians (i.e., early humans) and then it began meddling. If you're asking whether the cassettes could be used as metal detectors to find the Cube, alas no! Great question!

[exitrowiron]

The Death of My Mother

After a years-long courageous battle with breast cancer, my mother died on October 11, 2023 with my sister Lori and I holding her hands and my wife Beth by her side. She was 83 years old. 

Over 20 years ago a cancerous lump was discovered and removed, followed by radiation. All seemed well for over a decade as she and my dad enjoyed a very active retirement. A few years ago, the cancer was detected again and the mastectomy came too late to contain it.  

She endured years of chemotherapy, proceeding to a new drug therapy as soon as old one ended. Despite the unexpected death of my father nearly two years ago, she doggedly continued her treatment. Because she’d been athletic all her life, she tolerated more chemotherapy than her oncologist could remember giving anyone else. It wasn’t enough. 

She was determined not to let her life be dominated by her cancer; she continued to travel, paint, sew and entertain friends. She was assisted by my sister and uncle, both of whom lived in the same town as her; making sure she was safe and accompanying her to doctor visits, chemo treatments, etc.  

Despite the rigors of chemotherapy, you’d not have suspected her condition if you saw her in the grocery store. She lost weight, but with her wig and bubbly personality, she looked well, better in fact than most of her peers. She often went to the gym immediately after receiving an infusion, knowing she’d be too weak to do so in a day or two. Ultimately the breast cancer continued to spread, causing fluid to gather around a lung and ultimately metastasizing into a painful, inflamed cancer on her skin. 

In August she was struggling with the latest chemotherapy, having to suspend/postpone rounds until her anemia and overall strength could improve. The regimen was simply too taxing, and she was considering stopping treatment, despite the consequences of this decision. Then she had her first fall. In the middle of the night on the way back to her bed from the bathroom, she lost her balance and fell, cutting a large gash in her nose on the way to floor. She made it back to her bed and waited a few hours before finally calling my sister for assistance. She wasn’t wearing the Apple Watch we’d purchased for her explicitly for this purpose after my father’s death. 

The fall was unnerving for her (and all of us), but my sister installed motion-detector night lights and we reminded her to wear her Apple Watch. Despite the fall, she did well living independently, continuing to drive, etc. I offered to visit and spend a few nights with her, but my son’s wedding was approaching and she declined my offer. She did, however, remind me of her wish to never go to a nursing home; she had sufficient savings to afford in-home care when the time came. 

Although she didn’t resume treatment after the fall, her condition stabilized and she seemed to be gathering strength. Even the fluid around her lung, which had caused a troublesome cough and required drainage every so often was improving. Reluctant to make any concessions to her illness, she was forced to cancel the cruise she’d planned to take with Beth, me and a friend after Brady’s wedding.  

When our son Brady contracted Covid a week before his wedding, she wisely decided not to attend the wedding as well. The trip from Indiana to Maine would have been too difficult even with my sister’s help, and the risk of Covid gave her an acceptable excuse to cancel. 

In the early morning hours of September 13, however, Mom felt very dizzy and generally unwell so she reached out to neighbors for help (Lori was out of town). An ambulance was called and she was taken to the hospital where she was diagnosed with A-Fib and extreme covid. (A-Fib is one of the symptoms of the new Covid variant). Again, she wasn’t wearing her Apple Watch. We were sad that Mom had been infected with Covid, but relieved that she’d not gotten it from attending Brady’s wedding.  (Actually, no one got sick from Brady’s wedding.) 

Her blood work in the hospital was terrible, but again she rallied (with the help of Prednisone) and she was much improved by the time I took her home on Sunday, just 5 days after she was admitted. I stayed at the house and helped her for two weeks. During this time, she was weak but still able to care for herself with some assistance from me (preparing meals, cleaning the house, laundry, driving, etc.). She was well enough to resume her lifelong habit of creating a daily to-do list each morning on a yellow legal pad. Visits to her doctor (including a CT scan with contrast) gave her hope. She was diagnosed with pericarditis (fluid around the heart) as a result of Covid, but cancer activity was nominal. The cancer was still present but it wasn’t aggressively spreading. She was given hopeful instructions to concentrate on recovering from Covid.  

Her list of medications continued to grow in number and dosing complexity.  I made a spreadsheet to keep it straight. Xanax was added to the mix to help ease her growing anxiety. In the middle of the night, she would wake in fear that she was having trouble breathing (but her blood O2 was still good). All this was manageable, but she wasn’t eating so she continued to lose weight and when the prednisone course ended, she began to get weaker. 

I can’t cook but I did my best to prepare or purchase simple comfort food. No matter how absent her appetite she could always to be tempted into eating a Wendy’s frosty or DQ milkshake. She spent more and more time each day sleeping, in between bouts of fretting over how much she was sleeping. Ever the athlete, she insisted on walking laps inside the house and down the street in an effort to exercise herself to good health. She simply refused to accept this decline as inevitable and irreversible. Finally, one of her trusted doctors had to advise her to concentrate on rest and postpone the training sessions for a few weeks. 

Just a few weeks earlier, Holley, her beloved sister-in-law had a large tumor removed from her colon and was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer.  Holley’s condition had worsened quickly and as a result Mom's brother, a retired orthopedic surgeon, was understandably preoccupied with his wife’s condition. Holley was admitted to a hospital and rallied briefly before going to hospice. Holley passed away after just a few days in hospice but with my help Mom was able to visit her three times. 

I’d been in Evansville for two weeks when Holley died; this was a week longer than I’d expected and I’d run out of contacts lenses and didn’t have appropriate clothing for my aunt’s funeral.  Meanwhile, Mom continued to weaken, sleeping more and eating still less. She needed a caregiver in the house 24x7 so my sister and I began contacting agencies and secured caregivers before my departure. 

I was at our home in Washington for just 2 days before returning with Beth and clothes for Holley’s funeral and the expectation that we would be back home in a week. We flew into St. Louis and rented a car to drive to Evansville, planning to attend the funeral and then return to St. Louis to spend time with her parents for a few days before departing. With the in-home caregiver situation largely resolved for Mom, I assumed her condition would stabilize for a while. 

Beth and I had a hotel, but all that week I was at the house with Mom during the day before leaving when the nighttime caregiver arrived. Holley’s funeral was on Tuesday but Mom was too weak to attend.  That same day she requested a walker. There was no doubt she needed one, but her requesting it was a psychological concession on her part. We secured the walker that day and that night she insisted that I help her walk three laps inside the house, “to help her get better”. 

On Wednesday, a home oxygen concentrator was delivered. The oxygen machine was mostly for psychological support – knowing it was there if she needed it (and she rarely needed it). By this time it was obvious that Mom’s condition wasn’t going to plateau and that despite her preference, she needed care in a professional healthcare setting.  I’d broached this subject with Mom earlier in the week and she’d resisted. Through tears she said, “Going to someplace like that is a slippery slope and I don’t want to get on the slippery slope.” She still refused to acknowledge the inevitability of her situation. I gently responded, “Mom, you’re on the slippery slope. I’m concerned that if you stay in the house, something might happen, you could fall for instance, and we wouldn’t be able to get you up and you won’t be able to recover.” 

Evansville is a relatively small city and staffing 24X7 caregivers couldn’t be done with a single agency.  My sister cobbled together a network of caregivers that friends in similar situations had used but Mom’s needs were increasing beyond even this network. I reminded Mom that we’d spend any amount of money to keep her in her house, but we were running into limitations we couldn’t overcome. 

Her brother set aside his grief over the death of this own wife and visited Mom on Wednesday. At our request he encouraged her to go to Primrose. Primrose is an assisted living facility which their friends had used and it had a good reputation. Mom reluctantly agreed to go. Lori and I had toured Primrose that day and provided a deposit in the hope we could secure a room immediately, pending their evaluation of Mom’s needs. Even if accepted at Primrose, however, we would still need to provide 24x7 caregivers to be in Mom’s room at all times. In deference to Mom however, we pursued this option rather than a skilled nursing facility.  

By Thursday we’d secured a wheelchair as she could no longer use the walker safely.  She was sleeping practically all day, eating almost nothing, and required assistance to stand.  

By Friday she couldn’t get out of chair or stand on her own. I had to do most of the work with a lifting strap. Unfortunately, the Primrose evaluation was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Beth and I were supposed to drive to St. Louis to return the rental car before flying home on Saturday, but it was obvious I couldn’t leave. I borrowed a car from my sister, followed Beth to St. Louis to return the rental car before driving back to Evansville on Saturday. 

When we returned on Saturday Mom had declined still further, awake but too weak to talk or open her eyes or eat or toilet. It was clear that Mom needed to go to hospice, the same hospice used by her sister-in-law just a week earlier.  We let her sleep that afternoon and when the ambulance arrived around 5, I had to wake her and tell her that we were taking her to Deaconess. This was intentionally misleading but accurate. Deaconess is the health system that runs the hospital she’d used as well as the hospice. I said we need to go to Deaconess because she needed more care than we could provide in order for her to get better. She resisted by saying, “But why, I’m just sleeping?” This was a difficult conversation, but I was insistent and patient and eventually she allowed me to lift her out of her chair, help her onto the gurney and ride with her in the ambulance to the hospice center. 

Fortunately, Mom was too weak to open her eyes so she didn’t realize she was being wheeled into the hospice center, into a room identical to Holley’s (the suite next door actually). It was clear that we couldn’t have waited any longer to move Mom to hospice. She immediately required a catheter and her bladder had obviously been full and uncomfortable.  

The Linda White hospice center is a beautiful new facility attached to a Deaconess hospital. Each suite has a large sitting area for family/guests and an attached bedroom with two twin beds. The hospice administers medication, moves and toilets the patient but other than that they only come when alerted with a call button.  Mom was frequently conscious but rarely opened her eyes and couldn’t use the call button. Lori, Beth or I were with Mom from 8 am to 11 pm each day and then one of our outside caregivers stayed with Mom overnight.  

The first evening was difficult. Weeks of opioid painkillers left her painfully constipated. She refused to use a bedpan so I lifted her onto a bedside chair/toilet. This was unsuccessful so we returned her to bed, the nurse administered a suppository and an hour later we repeated the process, this time with some success. I’ve never provided such hands-on care to an adult. It was humbling for everyone. My mom was such a proud woman, always careful in her appearance and to see her stripped of all of this, practically naked and utterly helpless as I lifted her off the bed was sobering. I only cared for my mother for a few days/weeks and always had lots of paid assistance as well as the help of my sister – I can’t begin to imagine the strength and patience of those who care for their parents full time for an extended period. 

On Sunday, the swelling of my Mom’s feet which had begun a few days earlier grew much worse. The nurse informed us that this was significant a development and indicated that Mom was experiencing congestive heart failure. Mom remained marginally responsive though with her eyes closed and she was able to minimally engage with the friends who came to visit her. 

Mom continued to generally deny the reality of her situation and in order to avoid upsetting her, we placed this message on the door to her suite: 

Mom did make one concession to her condition, however, she asked to be visited by her parish priest. We left the room when he visited to pray, hear her confession, and deliver the last rites. 

By Monday morning Mom was barely able to swallow her oral medications and we accepted the nurse’s recommendation to begin administering comfort medication (morphine, etc.) intravenously using the port which had been previously used for chemotherapy. 

Mom’s condition continued to deteriorate; she stopped eating completely and drank very little. Answers to yes or no questions were difficult. Monday and Tuesday were spent in quiet vigil, interrupted only by the occasional visitor. Mom couldn’t respond but was likely conscious at least occasionally. In what I believed was a moment of lucidity, I told her I loved her and that she’d been a great mom and done well with her life. This would have a been a good conversation to have a few weeks ago or even a few days ago, but she was never willing to accept her impending death. I took occasional breaks to get a meal or workout, confident that my sister would alert me of any changes. As Mom continued to sleep, I started and completed her obituary as well as the slide show to be shown during the visitation at the funeral home.  

Lori and I chose to spend the night with her Tuesday night, sleeping in shifts. I was surprised she was still with us on Wednesday morning when Beth arrived and thought (feared) she might linger in this condition for a few days. Beth and I had just left her room on our way to the hotel to shower and change clothes when we heard the tech nurse call urgently. We quickly returned to Mom’s room and the charge nurse informed us, “It is happening now.” Lori had also stepped out of the room briefly and Beth went to retrieve her. It was obvious that Mom was dying at that moment and that she somehow timed it for the only moment in the past 48 hours in which both Lori and I had been out of the room.  Lori and I each held one of Mom’s hands. We could see that she’d stopped breathing, but I could still feel Mom’s pulse in her hand. Lori and I spoke to Mom, telling her we loved her, reassuring her that her family was fine and congratulating her on a life well lived. Her pulse continued for 30 seconds until it weakened and stopped. The color had drained from her face and she was gone. 

After a few more minutes of farewells and hugs amongst ourselves, we tidied the room and left with the pictures, flowers, and mementos we’d brought in an effort to make her comfortable. We headed to my sister’s home where I poured myself a large whiskey and offered the first of many toasts I will make to the memory of my wonderful mother.  

I left home as a freshman in college and except for the summer break before my sophomore year, never again lived at home (or in the same city as my parents) for more than a few days. Married at 23, Beth and I lived in St. Louis, Dallas, Minneapolis, Bellevue and now a small town in the Cascades in Washington state. My mom always hoped we’d move to Evansville and occasionally I felt guilty for not spending more time with my parents, but it was best for me personally and professionally as well as my marriage that we never lived closer than a few hours away and usually much further than that.  

Despite this long physical absence (or perhaps because of it), we were always on good terms and avoided much of the drama that can ensnare parent/adult child relationships. I’m at peace knowing that when my mom needed support and a caregiver, I stepped up and fulfilled my obligation. I did the right thing and have no regrets.