#Optical Light Source

[sunmafiber]

Demystifying the Fiber Identifier: Unveiling the Secrets of Light Measurement

Specialized equipment used to measure the strength of light signals in optical fibers is known as an optical power meter. Optical power meter measures optical power quantitatively in quantities such as watts (W) or decibels (dBm), providing vital insights into the performance and health of optical networks.

Operation and components: Optical power meters are made up of a photodetector, which transforms light into electrical signals, and a display unit, which displays the measured power. The wavelength range of the light signals to be monitored determines the photodetector, which is often a silicon or indium gallium arsenide diode.

Optical power meters can measure wavelengths ranging from visible light to infrared, encompassing the most widely used wavelengths in fiber optic communication systems. Some sophisticated versions additionally have replaceable detectors, which allow users to adapt to varied wavelength ranges.

Optical Power Meter Applications: Installation and upkeep: Optical power meters are essential during the installation and maintenance of fiber optic networks for evaluating signal strength, assuring proper splicing and connectorization, and resolving network faults. They assist technicians in identifying power losses or abnormal power levels, allowing them to take remedial action as soon as possible. Optical light source is also of great use.

Network Monitoring: In live optical networks, continual monitoring of optical power levels is required to identify signal deterioration, fiber breakage, and other abnormalities that might influence overall network performance. Optical power meters monitor power in real-time, assisting network operators in identifying possible faults and taking proactive actions to ensure network integrity.

Choosing an Optical Power Meter: Several considerations should be addressed while choosing an optical power meter:

Power Measurement Range: Choose a power meter that can manage a wide range of power levels, accommodating both high and low power signals seen in various fiber optic systems.

Accuracy and Resolution: To guarantee exact measurements, look for a power meter with good accuracy and resolution. The resolution of an instrument defines the lowest observable power change, whereas accuracy represents its overall dependability.

Features and connectivity: Consider the power meter's connectivity choices, such as USB, Bluetooth, or Wi-Fi, which can help with data transmission and remote control. Data logging, wavelength identification, and auto-calibration are all features that can improve usability. You can buy fiber identifier online.

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[lightarts]

Rainbows in the Room, do you feel me?

Prismatic rays of color....https://youtu.be/W-to_JE94QY?si=HYhAW5i3bVhsufKZ

[candidoptronix]

Deviser's light source LS310A with VFL

Deviser's light source LS310A with #VFL are commonly used by #telecommunications service providers, network operators, and technicians to ensure the proper functioning and performance of optical communication networks.

Website- https://www.optronix.in

[internationaldayoflight]

"Science for Everyone." oral presentation on Light and Light based technologies.

Active learning in Optics Group has planed a one day Optics workshop for International Islamic university female campus in Islamabad . The event will start with an oral presentation on "Light and Light based technologies". It will followed by demonstrations on • Different kinds of Light Sources like Sun, ordinary light, LEDs and Lasers, Properties of light • Scattering of Light • Reflection, refraction, transmission and total internal reflection • Proving laws of Geometrical optics, finding critical angle • Working principle of Fiber optics communication • Interference of light • Single and double slit diffraction • Measuring Stress with polarisers At the end we will do a hands on demonstration session.

[muletia]

[tfp] starscream x human!reader

summary: starscream wakes you up to see the sunrise

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, starscream has feelings for you, silliness, bad writing, i may have butchered his character a bit but i want him to be happy for once

word count: 1365

Aggressive tapping on the window ripped you from a cozy sleep. You quickly propped yourself up on your arms, looking for the source of the sound. The warm blanket slipped off your shoulders, waking you even more. Your sleepy mind tried to shake off the fog with rapid blinking as you looked around, alarmed.

You tapped twice on the screen of your phone lying on the table next to your bed. Four o'clock. Good Lord. So much for sleeping in.

Who would even go through the trouble of reaching your house (crossing acres of untouched forest), tapping on the window hard enough to wake you up, and then disappearing without a trace? A thief? you thought. No, a thief would take extra care not to wake you. And would probably use the front door. With your still-clouded mind, you tried to remember who knew you lived here, but only two names came to mind: your mother and…

Red light pierced through the window, illuminating your bedroom.

Oh, right. He.

You slid out of bed and shuffled to the window. Even with limited light, you could make out the look of impatience on his elongated, metal face. You’d taken too long.

"Finally! Does it take humans this long to wake up?"

"Hi, Starscream," you greeted him. After a few months of acquaintance, you’d learned to ignore his jabs directed at you and your species. "May I ask what you need from me at four"—you emphasized the hour—"in the morning?"

You yawned, and he grimaced, his optics flicking away.

"I need you to finally step outside. Then you're coming with me."

"But it’s so early…"

"Will you be more encouraged if I punch a hole through your wall and take you by force?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't done that already."

"Don’t tempt me," he warned.

Your mind flashed back to the incident four months ago when he actually demolished half your wall because you apparently hadn’t come outside fast enough. Those were the days of testing his patience, which, as you quickly and painfully learned, was more fragile than porcelain.

"Get out. I'm not giving you a third warning."

You sighed because, unfortunately, he was right; you could soon end up in his servo, your house with yet another unwanted window. You put on your warmest coat, an old shearling from your mother, and left your cozy little home, making sure to lock the door behind you. It was still dark outside, but the first hints of dawn were breaking through the treetops. Sunrise was near.

"Finally! I can’t believe such a simple task took you this long."

"I’m sorry, alright. I just don't want to freeze to death."

One moment, you were standing quietly on the ground, bantering with your alien companion, and the next, he scooped you up in his claws and placed you in his servo. You held tight to his thumb, pressing against the only anchor point several meters above the ground. He was warm, which still amazed you. You nestled closer to his slender finger.

Starscream’s optics lingered on you for a moment, ensuring you were alright. You noticed.

"I’m fine," you assured him, smiling softly.

He looked away, embarrassed to be caught in such a state; you shouldn’t see him like this. You shouldn’t know that he cared, that he was trying to be gentler with your body; that his spark shone brighter when he was with you, that your companionship mattered to him.

The problem was, you did know. The humans he thought were primitives did have well-developed emotional intelligence, and you were no exception. It took you just a few weeks to see right through him. At first, he thought it was about finding his weakness, then stab him in the back, contact the right people or Autobots, and turn him in. Betray him. But each week, the betrayal he almost expected never came, and before he knew it, he started to trust you. And he hoped you trusted him, too—otherwise, you wouldn’t have stepped out of your house at such an early hour to meet him, right? He wanted to call it foolishness and naivety, but he knew you too well by now. You weren't either.

"I haven’t seen you in a while," you remarked after a moment of silence. "Are you okay?"

His wings fluttered happily. If you noticed, you chose not to comment on it, and he was forever grateful for that.

"Yes, I’m alright," he replied briefly.

"I’m glad."

His spark flickered with joy. It was nice to have someone who cared. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone of his kind had asked him something like that. Maybe no one ever had.

"Where are we going?" you asked. You didn’t expect a clear answer, but just listening to his voice gave you comfort. You missed this diva.

"Patience," he deflected. "I don’t want to spoil the surprise."

Oh. You beamed. With one sentence, he made you feel special, not to mention excited. Suddenly, the night’s chill stopped biting your cheeks, and the last traces of irritation at being woken up early faded away.

Starscream noticed the sudden shift in your body language, allowing himself to catch the mood. A dangerous thought popped into his processor—he’d like to see you smiling more, him being the reason for your smile. He wanted to make you happy, not occasionally, not out of whim or boredom; he wanted your smile to be genuine, brought on by his gestures or words. He held onto the hope that his surprise would have a similar effect.

As you climbed the forested hill, Starscream pondered when you stopped being just another human and became [Your Name]. Was it when you didn’t hesitate to express disapproval of Megatron, who had tormented him for most of his long life only to abandon him on an alien planet? Or maybe when you outright told him that you cared for him and that his opinion mattered to you when he wasn’t pointing a weapon at you?

You’d both fallen hard, but he was at the bottom.

"I think I know what this surprise is," you whispered as the forest thinned out, revealing a meadow dotted with rocks. "You remembered that I love sunrises."

"It’s hard to forget when someone keeps pestering you about it."

He was bluffing; you saw right through it. You’d only mentioned it once, a long time ago, but you let him win, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"Thank you," you whispered.

He muttered something under his breath, but his wings lifted proudly, betraying his true emotions.

Starscream stopped in front of a large rock jutting from the ground in the middle of the clearing. He placed his hand on the hard, dewy surface so you could step down and admire the view in front of you.

"Wow," you whispered.

You’d arrived just in time for the sunrise, which was slowly emerging from behind thick clouds, creating an orange gradient, fading into muted pinks and shades of gray. The panorama before you was raw and ethereal. Untouchable. It formed an image Starscream had reserved just for you. And that meant so, so much to you.

"I think I’m going to cry," you sniffled.

"What? Why?" he squawked, stunned.

Did you not like it? Humans only cried when they were sad, right? For Primus’s sake, he’d messed up again, as always. But before his worry could turn to anger, your response reassured him.

"I’m just… so happy. You have no idea how much. Thank you for bringing me here; I’ll never forget it."

There it was again. That pleasant churning in his spark, throwing him off his calculated balance. Would you be just as thrilled if he gave you a star from the sky?

"The pleasure’s all mine," he replied, now focusing his entire attention on you.

Impulsively, he reached out towards you. A sharp claw, designed to cause suffering, now gently brushed your back with the utmost care. Starscream soaked in your contentment like forbidden nectar, losing himself in the moment, wishing it would last forever.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: Orion Pax x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Why did you agree to join Orion on a day out which promised a 'fun' time?  Warnings/Tags: SPOILERS for the transformers one movie, cybertronian reader, running from the law, awkward first kiss, forced bonding/j, flirting, banter, humor, acquaintances to friends to…?, and fluff.  Word Count: 1300+ words 

"...find anything yet?" 

You jumped and juggled the recording in your servos. Gasping as it slipped between your digits a few times before you had a firm hold on it with both servos. You glared at the mech hanging over your shoulder, who rose his servos as he backed up from you. 

"No, nothing yet," You answered as you carefully placed the recording back in its original spot. Your optics ran over the many shelves and cases full of records, a huff left you as you turned to ask, "You?" 

"None," Orion took out a recording and discarded it carelessly. 

"...you know we should probably go," You stepped away from the shelf and approached Orion's back. You stopped just a few steps away from him, peering around his arm to see the mech filtering through the piles on the table. "Before we get caught again." 

"We won't get caught, stop being a wuss," Orion reassured with a laugh. 

"Hey! What are you two doing over there? Wait, is that Orion Pax again?!" 

The two of you shared horrified looks before scrambling from the records as the shouting officers demanded you two to stop. 

"I told you we would get caught!" You blew your top as you sprinted beside Orion. 

"And I'm telling you we won't-!" Optimus turned a corner and grunted when he slammed against a wall. 

"Dead end?" Optimus glanced up and saw the vents were boarded up. "Damn, they really prepared this time." 

"See? See? This is exactly why I should've listened to D to not come with you," You shook your digit at Orion before dropping your face into your palm. "We are going to get demoted for sure." 

"...halt!"

The approaching voices caused you to fret even more, but Orion was immune to the panic as he focused on finding a way out of this. He glanced around the corridor before his optics landed on a window. 

You felt something grab your wrist and before you could squeal you were pulled along. Your optics fell on the window that Orion was leading the both of you to and you began shaking your helm frantically. 

"No, no, no, don't you da-!" 

"Too late for that!" Orion pulled you close and shielded your frame with his as he rammed through the glass. 

A scream ripped from your intake as the two of you pummeled toward the ground, other cybertronians and the like zooming past the two of you.

Fortunately, the two of you landed on an overhang attached to a wall, the force ricocheted you both into breaking another window and falling inside of a building. Orion rolled with you in his arms for a few seconds until he rolled onto his back, then he unwrapped his arms from you. 

Out of breath and gasping for air, You and Orion gawked at each other for a moment before a giggle left your dermas. Orion couldn't hold back anymore and also broke out a fit of chuckles while you weakly dismounted from him and sat on the ground. Your optics observed the broken pieces of glass that led to the elevated window you two entered from.

It….was really high up, not even Orion seemed tall enough to reach it. 

 

"What did I say? We wouldn't get caught and here we are now! Not getting screamed at or forced to work another long hour of-" Orion faltered as did his optics observing your back. Him seeing your shoulders slump as well as the lack of your usual taunts spooked him. 

"...___? Is something wrong?" Orion got off of the ground and joined you by your side. He placed a servo on your shoulder and leaned forward to gauge your reaction. 

"Pax…" You began. "We're trapped." 

"What?" Orion's optics widened. 

"Look." 

So he did and he didn't like what he saw. 

Orion examined the building they were in and how dark it was. There wasn't any light sources other than the light streaming in from the window. Everything else was boarded up and the room appeared…abandoned to say the least. 

There were a few boxes and carts here and there, but other than those things it was fairly empty. 

"Scrap," Orion hissed. "Look, ___, I-" 

He turned to you and shut his trap up when you held up a servo. 

"It's fine, I expected things to go to scrap the moment I agreed to go on this 'outing,'" You curled your digits to make the 'quote-on-quote' gesture before dropping your arms. You turned on your heel strut and walked over to the nearest wall and slid down onto your aft. Orion watched you go, his face twisting with a flurry of emotions before he decided to sit beside you with his legs stretched out. 

"..." You couldn't find the strength to speak or entertain a conversation now of all times. You didn't hate Orion, or find him that annoying like every other bot did. In fact, you liked him, more than you were willing to admit to his face or D's (who had an inkling and brought it up one time–but you quickly shut that down before his smug ideas could land you in trouble). You curled your knees to your chassis and burrowed your helm in your arms.

"..."

"Soooo…you come here often?" 

You raised your helm enough to peek your optics out and give Orion a look.

He smiled back. 

"Yeah, I come here all the time when I want to avoid dumb idiots like a certain red and blue mech," You shot back as your tone came out harsher than intended. 

Orion halfheartedly giggled before shooting you with another ridiculous response, "I'm pretty positive that the red and blue mech doesn't mean any harm…and he's very very sorry." 

You couldn't hide the smile growing on your faceplate. Rolling your optics and making contact with the bigger mech's face, you played along with his game. "Oh, is that so? Because I don't think bringing me to a dark, scary place is an ideal first date I'd imagine us going on."

It was Orion's turn to look at you. Stunned as his cheeks flushed with a light hue. 

 "Well, I, uh…" 

You looked away and smirked at your win. Even if he laughed it off or rebuffed you, it was nice that you could make him shut up for once. 

"...I could take you somewhere nicer…for next time." 

You almost had a whiplash from how fast your helm turned on your shoulders. You studied Orion's face for any signs of this being some cruel joke, but nothing prepared you for the soft expression and heated gaze that allowed you to drink in all of its vulnerability. 

Oh….oh.

"I'd love that," You admitted, optics shying away from his intense gaze. You unfurled from the ball you curled in and placed your servos on the ground.  A relieved sigh rumbled from Orion's chassis as he turned his gaze to stare off into space, his servo slowly inching away from his side and toward yours. 

You flinched when something tapped your pinkie, you peeked down and saw Orion's digit nudging against yours. Your dermas curved as your faceplate was set ablaze, you hooked your digit around Orion's—who in turn interlocked your servos together. 

The two cybertronians glanced up from their joined limbs and stared into each other's optics. 

Time slowed as the two of you leaned forward, you could practically hear each other's sparks beating wildly as the gap sealed with a kiss.

His dermas gently pressed against  yours, his other servo cupped the back of your helm and your own rested on his chassis. The kiss was soft and a bit awkward as Orion's forehelm knocked into yours a few times. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful experience. 

As you tilted your helm to deepen the kiss-

A loud bang caused the two of you to separate and stare at the two guards who blocked the only exit of the place. 

"EW! Public displays of affection and breaking into an official building is not allowed!" 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. star banner by @enchanthings !!

[rabotimagines]

"Pet names" pt4 GN BOT Reader + Soundwave (His cassettes), Starscream, Megatron

Summary: Reader has become partial to using human pet names for everyone.

Warnings: Megatron mentions of thinking of hitting Reader but it's light hearted all things considered.

G1 characters: Soundwave (and his cassettes), Starscream, Megatron

Genre/Theme: Platonic/light crush vibes

Notes: Con Bot Reader! Reader is higher ranking in the Decepticons and knows how to fight. Reader is said to be more loyal to the cause then Megatron necessarily. Reader is written as older bot in mind.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Soundwave Isn't expecting too much to go wrong today, since it was only an inventory day on the nemesis. You pass him the datapads he requested from you and he almost immediately drops them all when you speak. "Here ya go, Love. let me know if there's any issues with 'em" Soundwave freezes at the term but also has no feasible clue as to what his next course of action should be in this situation. But at his sudden silence you only meet his visor and a smile curls on your derma. And then your em field brushes warm across his side- But Soundwave doesn't say anything when you then turn on your pede and head to go back to your own tasks. And Soundwave is stuck standing with a stack of datapads in his servos for longer than he'd admit to, till he finally forces himself to place the pile on his desk. Then Ravage comes running back a few joors later asking to dock and he complies- and is promptly hit by the visual of you calling Skywarp "Babe" and he's suddenly now aware you've just seemingly begun to do this.

Soundwave admittedly does enjoy it. It was simple and there was no harm to your actions. A smile there, a name there, em field warm to the touch and filled with something almost... delicate. Soundwave did admittedly crave some form of domesticity, it was quite literally embedded in his coding with his frame type. The Decepticons didn't operate on such things so he's long learned to savor the small moments he'd occasionally share with his cassettes behind closed doors. But the affections you offered would make his frame want to instinctively lean forward for your em field to simply feather across his frame faster. So Soundwave allows himself the small enjoyment since there's no deceit in your field or frame when you do so. It's something that soothes the slight ache of wariness in his joints and fills the gaps in his plating.

Theres also the fact he's gotten a heaping amount of blackmail from recording the other Decepticons various reactions to your actions. Some were obviously violent with you promptly putting unruly soldiers back in their places before calling them sweet names again with a hint of bite when they were flat on their afts. He knows you know how to handle yourself and you were still a high ranking officer so the only one who could technically order you to stop was Megatron himself. But you didn't tend to report the insubordination itself. So Soundwave may as well keep the acting out recorded for when he needs to remind someone that Soundwave has his own ways of keeping the rabble in line. There was also the few recordings of some who didn't fight back and optics would brighten harsh enough their faceplates would either risk coloring or would color cobalt. Which were also quite a good source of blackmail for Soundwave.

-

For the cassettes it's only funny when it's someone else. Whether it's Soundwave or another one of them your attention is on. They're smiling and chuckling over whoever is on the receiving end. Laserbeak and Ravage are the fastest to not care about image since their already prone to physical attention due to both their alt modes being beasts. Getting a helm pat while you coo and call them "Gorgeous" has them both pushing back against you fast for more affection. The twins (and Buzzsaw) are hardafts about it, Scoffing and turning their olfactories up at you. Rumble actually does enjoy it a lot but you wouldn't be able to squeeze that outta him. No chance in pit! They all collectively enjoy watching Soundwave being on the receiving end more though. They can physically feel Soundwaves reactions to your affections and its hysterical every time Soundwave is shocked for half a nanoklick before bashfulness gets snuffed out of the bond link. (It's never fast enough that the cassettes can't feel it first though).

They're little slaggers and will not hesitate to push you to interact with Soundwave for something even if they do have the information just because they wanna see you inflicted on Soundwave. Soundwave catches on fast however and immediately begins doing the opposite to them. Turning you on his cassettes for something even when Soundwave already has the information, and watching them promptly fumble with the attention. You've unknowingly become a game to them all which is who can they get to interact with you and watch their optics brighten in real time. It's funnier if whichever con tries to fight you for it because the cassettes already know they're gonna just watch you knock somebot on their aft.

-

Starscream is ranting about Megatrons latest easily avoidable battle fumble that could have been avoided, if he allowed Starscream to kill Optimus last battle instead of stupidly let the mech get back up again. It was time for a high command meeting and it's you and him waiting on Soundwave and Megatron. Starscream knew you entertained his ideas and Starscream knew sparkdamn well your loyalties lied more with the cause then Megatron. So he wastes no chance to try and persuade you to join his side over Megatrons whenever he can. You just leaned your faceplate against your own servo which was propped up on the meeting table. "Darling, you know perfectly well how he is with Prime. He's possessive, and knows he'll only get to kill him once. Megatron wants to savor the death of Optimus Prime." You stated as if it were so matter of factually and not simply that your bumbling leader did whatever he pleased regardless of if it was detrimental to the Decepticon cause.

He thinks on what you'd said longer and scoffs, his wings flicking at the battle memory. Then his optics widen a touch when he thinks you'd just called him "Darling"? No No you definitely had just started that statement off by calling Starscream darling. Starscreams gaze snaps back to you with questions but your expression betrayed nothing at all, expression and em field completely neutral. Had you- Not realized you'd done that? You met Starscreams gaze and a smirk curled on your derma. "What's wrong, love?" Your em field lightly brushing against his side has Starscreams expression furrowing before he can even attempt to hide his own befuddlement. Then Megatron walked into the room with Soundwave and both your helms snapped to them instead. Starscream doesn't know what the pit you were playing at then but then sees you say something flirtatious with Skywarp of all bots- then Soundwave, and then hes demanding to know if you've had your personality module shorted when they weren't looking. But you just smirked at him in the infuriating way you did and say "What? I just think the Cons could use a little TLC." Starscream cannot hide his sneer when you explain what "TLC" means. You were Decpticon warriors! Not blasted organics in a cheap shoddy excuse for a romantic film. Skywarp actually growled at him when Starscream told him to act like his sparkdamned position, and not hike his wings so high in the air when you interacted with him. Growled at him! Starscream was going to shoot that idiot the next chance he got.

Starscream hates your little excuse of a habit and he's starting to hate interacting with you. Every meeting is an infuriating term, or smile, or all spark forbid you try and fan your em field out against him again- he might just threaten to end you there and then! Starscream was a war frame! Not just any war frame but the second in command in the Decepticons! Your position aside, you still were not above Starscream in rank! The only time he actually lets you is on accident- when his guard drops. Starscream returned from a mission with an earth item they needed for their plans and had to outgun and quickly outrun the Autobots by himself. And what does he get when he returns? Megatrons infuriating unappreciative aft telling him he should've been faster. Starscream is seething off to the side when a servo grasps his arm and Starscream whips his helm around ready to fight, obviously, and its you. "Great job out there, Darling." You say with a smile and your em field fully presses against Starscream and it is warm. Your thumb rubs a slow press against were you're holding his arm and then you simply let go and leave.

Starscream would have shot you if his embarrassment caught up to him before you'd left. But instead he's stuck standing there like a fool alone with his wings hiked high in the air without his own input. His own optics burning. Starscreams engine growled under his own vents and he stomped off to go get ready for the impending battle. He was going to slag you for this foolery one day! (Starscream does not even entertain to fleeting thought to find you to next time he completes a task. The thoughts dead and smelted as soon as it has the audacity to form.)

-

Megatron knows were your loyalties lie but you were competent and a good solider so he has no qualms with them. After all you'd simply stated you'd tell him yourself if you thought you had to kill him for the sake of the Decepticon cause. Megatron laughed knowing you were completely and utterly serious about that. He simply offered the same sentimentality back to you. He'd known you for a very very long time so the clarity of were you both stood on any situation was typically warranted. That said after vorns of knowing you he's still not ready when your giving him your verbal report and you hold out the datapad with the written report still on the screen for him to take. "All that said not too much to regard about, Sweetspark. Thankfully the mission went off without much of a hitch." Megatron stops were he is and at that point he's in the middle of taking the datapad, servo still holding onto the electronic device and held in front of himself. And Megatron stares back at you letting what you'd just said settle in the silence. You don't open your mouth again to explain yourself so Megatron opens his.

"Are you- overcharged you fool? What... buffoonery are you trying to accomplish here?" And Megatron looks at your optics to genuinely check if they are any brighter as a sign of overcharge but their the same brightness they always typically are. He watches a smirk curl on your derma and feels amusement fan in your em field- He knows because Megatron can blatantly feel it brushing against his chassis. It's not strictly unpleasant- but it is foreign enough he has to suppress the instinctive urge to pull back.

"Ah, Sorry Sir," Your em field flexes warmer when the word leaves your mouth, "Learned that praise is apparently shown to encourage morale and good behavior. It's been working with the other cons so far. Even got some of the usual misbehaving rabble to start acting more... proper." You were doing this with the soldiers.

"Has it now?" You only nodded unperturbed still by the situation. You were competent and if the unruly soldiers listened when you had no regard for indulging the brutes in such a thing he couldn't exactly argue against it. However- "Hm, Do not use such terms when we're not alone. It would be ill advised for the others to hear me referred to by such things." Your smirk widens and further amusement curls against Megatrons frame and he as to resist to urge to try and strike you for it. Knowing fully well you'd more than likely dodge and would rightfully try and strike him one back. (Before likely booking it out of his throne room before Megatron could stand properly.) Megatron enjoys it more than he would ever admit, even to you. Your smile, Your unrestrained em field, and he even enjoys the rather confounded little names you'd use whenever you were alone with one another. It didn't make much logical sense considering how ridiculous the entire affair was but Megatron wanted you to continue doing it. And Megatron was never restrained with his own desires.

He does however restrain himself when he suddenly gets the baffling urge to reach a servo out and brush his knuckles against your faceplate one night. Something so ridiculously... chummy was not something Megatron would stoop low enough to perform. So he instead lets his plating lax a touch more than usual when your em field brushes against his own frame. You were simply putting work into the sanctity of the Deception cause. Nothing more, nothing less...

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Namib Sand Geckos: these nocturnal geckos have biofluorescent markings that emit a bright, neon-green glow when exposed to the moonlight

This species (Pachydactylus rangei) is found only in the Namib Desert, which stretches across Namibia, Angola, and South Africa; the geckos typically inhabit the arid, coastal region known as the Skeleton Coast.

In order to escape from the blistering heat of the desert, they use their webbed feet to burrow down into the sand during the day, and then emerge only at night, when the temperature has finally dropped. The webbing on their feet also enables them to run more easily across the dunes.

Namib sand geckos are covered in translucent scales, but they also have a strangely colorful appearance, as the colors/shades of their circulatory system, spinal column, internal organs, and optical membranes remain partially visible through the skin, producing various shades of pink, dark blue, purple, magenta, orange, and yellow.

They also have several distinctive markings running along their lower flank and encircling their eyes; these markings are known to fluoresce when exposed to UV light (including moonlight), emitting a bright, neon-green glow.

Some researchers have theorized that the biofluorescent markings may act as a signal to other geckos, allowing them to locate one another in the vast, desolate expanse of the desert, as this paper explains:

The fluorescent areas of P. rangei are concentrated around the eyes and along the lower flanks. This positioning is practically invisible to predators with a higher perspective (e.g. birds and jackals), but highly conspicuous from a gecko’s perspective. As P. rangei is sociable but generally solitary, and occurs at low population densities, such a signal might serve to locate conspecifics over greater distances ...

Encounters in P. rangei might serve purposes beyond mating opportunities: as the Namib desert has extremely low precipitation, fog is a key water source for its flora and fauna. Fog condenses on the bodies of the geckos, and they lick it from their faces. In husbandry, we have observed individuals licking water from conspecifics, taking advantage of a much greater available surface area.

Additionally, after short periods of isolation, the geckos run to meet each other. The combination of vital hydration with socialisation might reinforce signals that enable such meetings, and the cost of visibility to predators with higher vantage points, might constrain the signals to regions best visible from eye-level and below.

The Namib sand gecko is the only terrestrial vertebrate that is known to use an iridophore-based form of biofluorescence (you can find a more detailed explanation of that mechanism in the article mentioned above). The fluorescent dermal markings are also unique to this species.

Sources & More Info:

Scientific Reports: Neon-green fluorescence in the desert gecko Pachydactylus rangei caused by iridophores

Animal Diversity Web: Pachydactylus rangei

Dr. Mark D. Scherz's Blog: A Neon-Green Glowing Gecko!

Australian Geographic: Skeleton Coast - Namibia's strange desert dwellers

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

I’m real

I really can't stop writing about Bee, He's just so friend-shaped!! And he is the best comforter. Warning: Slight angst but ends with fluff. Word count:1.1K

You only just learnt about the word Decepticon a little while ago when Optimus was going through the archives of Cybertron, he then brought up a recording that contained one of them.

"Who's that ??" You frowned, even the menacing look was enough to give you shivers in your spine.

"Starscream, One of Megatron's many allies..."

Even though this Starscream or Megatron was somewhere probably and hopefully far away, You couldn't help but shake the feeling that one of them was behind you.

You began to learn about the Decepticons and what they did to the Autobot's when they captured them, It was something straight out of a horror movie.

"I don't mean to frighten you about this y/n, But they are and always will be a very great risk not only to us... but to your kind as well..." Optimus said sympathetically.

You knew he just wanted to help you just in case the worst came to worst, But the feeling of either Starscream or Megatron behind you plagued your mind for the rest of the day, Even bumblebee could see the shift in you. You weren't as playful when you finished all your tasks in the base, even on the drive home you were practically silent.

"You alright ??..." You heard the radio flick, breaking the long silence.

"I'm alright buddy... I'm alright..." You patted the dashboard gently as you neared your home.

You greeted your dad and soon tried to unwind with your normal routine, but your classic brain and intrusive thoughts, the Decepticons continued to plague up until you brought yourself to bed.

Taking a deep breath as you looked up at the ceiling... "They're not here... They won't be able to get you here..." You whispered to yourself as you soon closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

You soon woke up from a bang, looking at the clock, it was about 1 in the morning, rushing outside to find out what the bang was... you were horrified to find out that it was from bee... he was dead... lying there on the ground, his optics not shining the familiar blue light.

"Bee !!" You rushed out to get to him, but you were knocked out. Soon waking up in an unfamiliar location, tied down with the light above you being the only source of light, you tried to get out of the restraints but it was no use. "Help !!"

"Quiet human" You gasped softly as you saw red optics light up, it was one of them...

"What did you do to bee !!" You yelled at it.

"B-127 was a pain in the neck, I just got rid of the problem" The Decepticon chuckled darkly as he came into the light, Starscream...

"Megatron will be so pleased to meet you" He smirked and dragged his sharp claw along your forearm, you grimaced in slight pain until you began to hear thuds. Another pair of red optics shined through, much taller than Starscream.

"Where is Optimus Prime ??" His voice low and menacing.

"I... I don't know what you were talking about..." You frowned, now scared.

He stormed over to you and got up close and personal to your face, making you look away.

"I will not ask again human !! Where is Optimus Prime!!" He yelled at you.

"I'm not giving him up !!" You yelled back... making it the biggest mistake you'll ever make.

He hummed and began to stand back, Looking at Starscream who just simply nodded to him. "If you won't speak, we will find a way..." He then raised an arm, a tiny robot soon crawled his way out of his arm and began to creep slowly to you, speaking in a language you couldn't understand.

You began to hyperventilate as you frantically tried to get out of the restraints, this little thing was just toying with you at this point. "Get away !!" You screamed as it then began to move onto your torso and crawl right up to your face, Continuing to speak as the red optics pierced through your eyes.

It cackled as it then began to transformed its hand into a sharp tool, It lifted it up, this was it... all you could do was scream. It made a move before everything then turned black, You screamed again when you jolted up, sweating pure bullets as you frantically looked around, you were back in your room. It was all just a bad dream, you slowly curled in on yourself and started to cry, It felt so real... Bee was dead... and you were about to as well.

But a familiar Autobot heard your scream, waking up from his recharge and getting extremely worried, he transformed and rushed out of the garage, he began to walk to your bedroom window, being careful of the plants. He soon spotted you shaking badly, he could see your panic rising.

He tried to attempt to lift the tiny window without breaking it. "What's... wrong...."

You frantically looked up and saw the Blue optics you've come to know and love deeply, Bee was alive. You slowly managed to get out of bed and shuffle to the window, you were shaking so bad as you then began to unlatch the window and open it, You were so spooked. "Bee..." More tears flooded your eyes, as you crawled out of the window to him.

He whirred softly and let you crawl into his arms, Wrapping you in a tight but gentle embrace. Patting your back as gently as he could, You tried to focus on the soft hum of his spark. He was here... He was right here.

Bee soon flicked his radio to play a lullaby, Humans liked lullabies. It worked as you soon slowly but surely started to calm down, and your breathing started to ease. Bee didn't do anything to put you down, slowly rocking from side to side, nuzzling you a little.

"Nightmare..." Was all that you were able to get out... Going into detail would only make you worse than what it already was.

Bee's optics softened, He gently petted you and tried to keep you warm, continuing to rock you as the lullaby continued to play. He soon pressed his chin against your head gently, as if he was trying to place a tiny kiss on your head.

"It's... not real... I'm... real..." He looked at you.

You nodded softly, looking up at the soft optics. Ones that promised to keep you safe and that would never let go of you. "Ok..." You sighed, safe in the arms of your best friend. Bumblebee would keep you close so long as you lived. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to you or him.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Moon (pt. 3)

Lunicurrent - related to changes in currents that depend on the moon's phases.

Luniform - moon-shaped.

Lunula - something shaped like a crescent or half-moon; especially the pale area at the base of the fingernail.

Mooncalf - a fool, dolt, monster, or aborted fetus.

Moonglade - the bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.

Moonraker - the top-most sails on some old sailing ships.

Novilunar - of the new moon.

Plenilunar - of the full moon.

The Moon...

Is the Earth’s only “natural” satellite.

Is moving away from the Earth.

Is 27% the size of the Earth.

Orbits the Earth every 27.32 days.

NOTES

There are 2-5 lunar eclipses yearly.

You would weigh 1/6th of your Earth weight on the Moon.

We only ever see half of the Moon at a time, even at “full moon”.

The light reflecting off the Earth and onto the Moon is called “earthshine” or “earthlight”.

In many languages, as in English, the word for “moon” is cognate with the word for “month”.

It takes the moon 29.53 days to cycle back to the same “visual” phase. This is called a “synodic month”.

A lunar calendar is a calendar based on cycles of the Moon's phases (synodic months), in contrast to solar calendars based on the solar year.

The Moon illusion is an optical illusion which causes the Moon to appear larger near the horizon than it does higher up in the sky.

Sometimes it’s possible to see the moon rabbit, or the shadowy face of the Man in the Moon created by lunar maria.

In the northern hemisphere, when the Moon is waxing, it resembles a letter “D”, and when waning a letter “C”. In the southern hemisphere this is reversed.

About 40% of the Moon is never visible from the Earth. This is referred to as the Dark Side of the Moon, even though it isn’t always dark.

Every month or so, the “old moon” sets for the last time as a sliver in the eastern sky. For about 3 days it travels invisibly alongside the sun until, magically born anew, it appears on the third day at sunset, on the western horizon. This course not only sets the moon in direct opposition to the sun, it also gives rise to various resurrection myths in which the hero spends 3 days in the underworld.

IN THE ARTS

In some myths, the lunar deity is represented as female (Greek, Chinese), while in others it is male (Mesopotamian , Germanic, Japanese).

In mythology, the moon deity is sometimes a friend, ally or consort of the sun deity, and sometimes their enemy.

In many mythical stories, a simple character mistakes the reflection of the Moon for a round cheese.

The Moon is the 18th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It represents the mysterious terrain of the Shadow self, illuminated by the guiding light of the conscious.

Shakespeare calls the moon the “moist star” because it creates the tides, and also casts it as inconstant (because of its phases) and thieving (because it steals its light from the sun).

Georges Méliès shot the first science fiction film, Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902.

The Lunar Society of Birmingham, consisting of eminent 18th century intellectuals, was so named because its members met on nights with a full moon. The moonlight made their journey back home easier and safer.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was originally titled, Sonata quasi una fantasia, and only acquired its popular name after his death.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ The Moon ⚜ Word Lists

[sunmafiber]

The Benefits and Limitations of Machine Learning in Business

For personnel working with fiber optic lines, fiber id is a crucial piece of equipment. Without interfering with the signal flow, they enable specialists to identify the type of fiber, ascertain the fiber's orientation, and detect the existence of signals on a fiber.

A fiber identifier is a portable tool that enables technicians to recognize the kind of fiber, determine its orientation, and find signals on a fiber without halting the signal flow. Fiber identifiers function by detecting the light signal that is traveling through the fiber and reporting data on the signal's wavelength and intensity.

How Do Fiber Identifiers Function?

Fiber identifiers operate by detecting the light signal traveling through the fiber using a non-destructive method. Throughout the identification procedure, the fiber is not harmed, and neither is the signal. The fiber identifier's main working concept is clamping the fiber under test between two jaws so that it may identify the presence of a signal without cutting the fiber.

Some of the light that travels through a fiber is lost due to absorption or scattering. The kind of fiber, its length, and any other attenuation elements in the system all affect how much light is lost. The technician can ascertain the existence and strength of a signal thanks to the fiber identifier's and Visual Fault Locator detection of light signals and measurement of light intensity.

Fiber Identifiers' Value

While dealing with fiber optic connections, technicians need fiber IDs as a basic tool. These can aid in determining the type of fiber included in a cable, enabling personnel to choose the proper tools for installation or maintenance. Also, they enable technicians to establish the fiber's orientation, which is crucial for splicing or terminating fibers.

Very helpful for debugging fiber optic networks are fiber IDs. They enable technicians to pinpoint the site of a malfunction or signal loss since they can detect the existence of signals on a fiber without obstructing the signal flow. This is crucial for long-haul fiber optic networks since it might be difficult and time-consuming to locate defects there.

Fiber identifiers and Fiber Interferometer can also assist in avoiding damage to the fiber during setup or maintenance. Technicians can prevent mistakenly cutting or injuring fibers, which might cause downtime or expensive repairs, by detecting the presence of signals on the fiber.

[mutant-distraction]

Fabián Soldano

"I spent the entire night at Yosemite National Park attempting to capture a moon-bow (also known as a lunar rainbow), an optical phenomenon created by the refraction internal reflection, and dispersion of light within water droplets. Moon-bows, like rainbows, display a continuous spectrum of light, but they occur when the full moon serves as the light source. 20mm-15 sec -f/1.8 - IS0 800"

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

4 Months Later

As luck would have it, snow started flying ten minutes before her shift ended. Flying. Not falling gently like in a Hallmark movie. No - this snow was heavy, wet, thick, and moved horizontal to the ground due to the beastly wind that bore it into the city.

It was dark too: by this time in November the sun was pretty much gone by 4:30, and by 5:00 when she was done it was completely black. 

Rook learned early on that commuting to work in her uniform on public transit was uncomfortable at best, and self-inflicted psychological warfare at worst: riding the cramped bus into downtown and transferring to the train at rush-hour, packed in with dozens of other people and stuffed inside the damnable three piece suit was a nightmare. 

Instead, she learned to just keep her uniform at work in her locker and get changed at the beginning and end of her shift. 

It was one of a few tricks she’d picked up over the past few months to make certain things bearable. Leaving her uniform at work meant she had to wear it for as little time as possible each day. The uncomfortable pantyhose she had to wear (minimum 80 denier to conceal her tattoos which were to be hidden at all times) were swapped out about two months in when she discovered the joy of stay-up thigh high stockings, which alone made the uniform practically bearable. The shoes were still hideous, but she had been working on sourcing a pair of plain black pumps that fell within the dress code (no embellishment, glitter, or sequins; no platform; heel height maximum three inches).

She still hadn’t gotten around to tailoring her jacket, but it was the least of her worries these days. Standing in the middle of a fucking snow storm waiting for her bus that was surely going to be late was actually taking priority over everything else at the moment. 

“Fuck!” 

She’d flicked her cigarette, failing to notice it was wet, causing it to snap just under the filter. 

“God… fucking… dammit…” she muttered, throwing the busted smoke in the garbage can nearby and digging out another one. 

She’d given up on trying to find a practical way to smoke during the day: staff were forbidden from smoking on funeral home property, and if she wanted to leave the property to hack a dart, she was expected to remove her entire uniform, change into street clothes, and find somewhere acceptable to light up, then be back, changed, and ready to go before her break ended.

It wasn’t worth it.

It was fucking stupid.

She got it: the optics of having a bunch of funeral home staff gathered around like a murder of crows, issuing smoke from their mouths like miniature crematoriums by the side door wasn’t a great look to the public at large, especially given the amount of cancer patients that passed through the doors in body bags.

So she eventually conditioned herself to get through an eight hour shift without needing a cigarette. It actually wasn’t that hard, but there was no denying that at the end of her shift she was fucking jonesing for a puff in a bad way.

She lit the fresh smoke and inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily, and turned her back to the wind so this one wouldn’t get wrecked too. 

Pulling the collar of her jacket up around her neck, she checked her transit app.

Your bus is 5 minutes late

Lovely.

In the gap between the tracks of her current playlist (she was currently having a Megadeth renaissance) she could hear the constant rush of tires on slick asphalt as cars sped down the main road next to her, and… honking? 

Turning around and raising her arm to prevent getting a face full of wet, stinging snow, she squinted: some asshole in an Audi had pulled up alongside her. She was used to people honking at her when they drove by - this had to be the first time someone had actually stopped.

Yeah great idea, jackass, stop in the middle of traffic…

The passenger window rolled down and in the LED glow of the streetlights she could make out the distinct shape of Emmrich’s face.

Oh fuck me.

“Would you like a ride home?” He inquired.

Yeah right, like I want anyone I work with knowing where I live… especially you.

“Nah I’m good. Bus will be along any minute.” She took a drag, hoping her disinterest would hit home and he’d realize she wasn’t going to get in his fucking car.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarked, sounding genuinely surprised by this revelation of her character - but not put off by it. Just intrigued.

“Not like we’re encouraged to stand around lighting up at work,” she retorted dryly. “It’s good you didn’t know: means my hands and hair don’t reek like stale smoke.” 

She was forever paranoid of smelling bad: cigarette smoke, body odor, mildew… unwashed clunge - it made her cringe when people smelled like shit. 

“I’ve never noticed anything like that,” he admitted like the idiot he was.

“Cool…” she drawled, her sardonic tone nearly drowned out by the cars speeding past. “Good to know that you make a habit of smelling me when you’re around. That’s fucking creepy, Emmrich.” 

She couldn’t be sure due to the cold practical glow of the streetlight above them, but she was pretty sure she saw his sallow skin turn a splotchy red.

“I don’t— I never said I was smelling you,” he stated, trying to reclaim his dignity. His left hand tightened on the steering wheel, loosened, and slid down the curved surface a few inches. “Only that there isn’t a cloud of stale cigarette smoke following you around everywhere - people notice such things, you know.”

“Do they?” She queried facetiously. “I had no idea.” 

“Your bus still hasn’t arrived.”

“How very astute of you to notice.”

She could keep this up all night, even if her toes were starting to tingle and hurt from standing in two inches of slush: she wore Chucks today and they were drenched through to her thin stockings.

“I’m more than happy to give you a lift home. I’m sure you’d do the same for me, if our positions were reversed.” 

Oh fuck, sure, appeal to my compassion and humanity and imply that I wouldn’t leave your ass out here shivering in the snow. Wrong!

“The longer you hang around here pressuring me to get into your car, the faster you’re moving up in my list of creepy dudes.”

“A very good thing for both of us then that I’m not a ‘creepy dude’ - only a colleague extending the courtesy of a warm, dry trip home to another colleague in a less than ideal position.”

She puffed on the smoke again and exhaled through her teeth, rolling her eyes: her feet were going numb, her peacoat was covered in snow, and her hair was sticking to her head. She was miserable, and her bus - if it ever came - was going to be fucking packed with likewise miserable people. 

“I’ll get my muddy feet all over your nice car and make it smell like cigarettes,” she argued.

“My car is subjected to my own muddy feet frequently enough when I’m scheduled on graveside services, and I really don’t care about the smell,” he said with far more nonchalance than he needed to.

“Fine,” she capitulated, reefing on the smoke one more time before stubbing it and dropping it in the bin. “But only on the condition that I never have to hear you say the word ‘position’ again.” 

She was turning back towards him when she said it, and he moved his head out of the light before she could see his face, but she was pretty sure she heard him let out a short laugh.

“You have my word,” he said, and she shifted her backpack on her shoulder and opened the passenger side door, folding awkwardly into the seat, grateful she didn’t manage to slip and land on her ass.

The inside of the car was nice and warm, and it smelled like he’d just driven it off the lot. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the dashboard or console. 

“Christ, don’t we listen to enough of this shit during the day?” She buckled up and nodded towards the screen in the middle of the console that indicated they were currently listening to ‘Violin Suite in E Minor: K.304: II. Tempo de Minuetto’ by the one and only Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

All seven locations of McDermott & Rafferty played the same eleven track CD on a loop over the sound system throughout the day, and all eleven tracks consisted of Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky, and a variety of lamentable instrumental covers of well-known songs like Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’. She’d only worked there for four months and already had nightmares featuring that music.

“I’ll need your address, please.”

Ugh. No going back now. 

She could give him a fake one near her apartment, but he seemed like the kind of guy that would sit there and wait for you to get inside before leaving, so that wouldn’t work. 

Fuck.

So she told him, because she had to. 

And he entered it into the nav on the console. 

And it was there forever now.

Satisfied that she was properly buckled in, Emmrich shifted into drive and signaled, looking over his shoulder before easing into traffic.

“This is what I enjoy listening to,” he stated plainly, returning to the topic of his shitty music. “What do you prefer?”

“You don’t have to change it.”

“I wasn’t offering to change it, I asked what music you enjoy listening to.” His right hand released the steering wheel to turn the heat up and returned to its place as soon as he was done. 

She felt awkward as fuck, sitting next to Emmrich in his nice car, wearing his nice suit, listening to his nice music while her box-dyed black hair was plastered against her skull and she was dripping all over his nice leather seats.

“I dunno. Everything, I guess.” 

“Except classical music.”

Hoooooly fuck, am I going to have to sit here and make bullshit small-talk with you the entire time? Can‘t you just be like an Uber driver and take me home and let me stare out the window in silence like a normal fucking person?

“Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. It’s fucking boring. It makes me want to go to sleep. It’s frankly a miracle that  you haven’t driven into oncoming traffic if this is what you listen to on your way to and from work.” 

“That’s not very nice—“

Oh good, he expects me to be nice.

“— you can’t very will sit here decrying my musical tastes while holding your own close to your chest.”

“Chest. That’s on the list with ‘position’ now as words I never want to hear you say again.” 

“Rook.”

“Emmrich.”

He sighed and drove on, reflections of traffic lights and neon store signs skimming over the lenses of his glasses, as he seemed to finally take the hint and cease his attempts at getting to make idle chit-chat.

Astoundingly, this did absolutely nothing to diffuse the awkwardness. Now she felt guilty on top of it. 

Unfortunately for Rook, as much as she liked to project an abrasive, rather unapproachable vibe into the world - especially around people she didn’t trust - she was actually a very nice person. A very compassionate person. A very empathetic person. It was why she’d been drawn to the funeral profession in the first place. 

He didn’t have to give her a ride home, he didn’t have to spend ten minutes cajoling her soggy ass into his car, and he didn’t have to try - earnestly, it seemed - to assure her he wasn’t a pervert, which, if she was being honest with herself was what he was trying to accomplish with his attempts at harmless conversation.

Goddammit…

“I dunno, I guess I like everything? Like… if I like the way it sounds, I like it, I don’t care who it is or what genre it is.” She shifted her sodden backpack on her thighs. “Weird stuff mostly that you’ve probably never heard of, like uh… Dead Meadow, Le Tigre… Nine Inch Nails, y’know?”

He did not know. This man had never been to a rock concert in his life.

“Classic rock is good too - Zeppelin, Queen, Sabbath. I spin them a lot too.”

“I’m of the mind that one can never go wrong with the classics, as I’m sure you can tell by my own tastes.” He signaled and changed lanes, fastidious in his mirror and shoulder checks once again. “If they bring you joy, you should enjoy them.”

“What, so you’re not gonna dump on my music?”

“No, why would I?”

“I dunno. I assumed because I ragged on yours you’d rag on mine: my shitty, un-nuanced tastes.”

“Did you?” His eyebrows raised, his eyes stayed on the road. “Do you take the bus to work every day?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a car.”

“But you drive?”

“Don’t have a license either.”

Emmrich frowned slightly. “But you need—“

“— a driver’s license to work as a funeral director at McDermott & Rafferty - yeah, I’m aware. They made that abundantly clear when I was hired. Numerous times.” 

She didn’t want to get into this: being in her mid-twenties and not being able to drive wasn’t exactly something she was proud of.

He might have been creepy, but he wasn’t dumb: Emmrich seemed to pick up on her reluctance to discuss the topic further and changed the subject again.

“You’ve settled in nicely at the chapel. I hear nothing but good things about you from families, and the turnaround when I give you an obituary to work on when I’m meeting with a family is unmatched by any other admin - with no sacrificing accuracy or quality either. You’re a very talented writer.”

He also seemed to know that the best way to pick someone up after accidentally blundering into one of their more embarrassing personal shortcomings was to make up for it with a compliment.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the drive passed by without incident. Emmrich would occasionally ask her questions: what she did before she decided to pursue the funeral profession, if she’d always lived in the city, etc. It was a decently long drive - Rook lived on the far west side of the city and the Hildwell chapel was central. By the time Emmrich turned into her street, her hair was mostly dry and she wasn’t shivering anymore. 

“Uh, yeah, just… just up there on the right. The building with the white stucco.” She pointed, her fingernail plain and unpainted: no ‘unnatural or bright’ nail polish allowed - including black.

She quite liked her little one bedroom walk-up: it was hers. Well… not really, because she rented, but it was hers because it was only hers. No family, no ambitionless sponge of a boyfriend, no loud messy roommates: just her own space, her own air, and her ever-growing collection of houseplants. She’d scratched and fought for 720 square feet of freedom, and she was never going back to anything less.

Despite her deep affection for her home, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat embarrassed as Emmrich pulled up to the curb to let her out as close to the front doors as he could. 

It wasn’t the nicest place. It wasn’t a shithole either, but it was an older building, and it was clearly a rental property. Emmrich probably lived on the bougie side of town in a fancy condo or townhouse. She knew he wasn’t married and he had never mentioned having any children, but that didn’t mean he didn’t live in a place that was four times the size of her apartment, furnished with top-of-the-line everything. 

“Thanks for the lift,” she said, unbuckling and practically scrambling to get out of the car: the less time he had to stare at her building, the better. “I hope this didn’t take you too far out of the way - whereabouts do you live?”

Emmrich was staring intently over her shoulder at the warm light of the apartment lobby. “Hm? Oh, I live in Darrowley,” he said absently, seemingly fascinated with the square, four storey building looming in the dark.

“Darrowley?!” She repeated, hand pausing on the door handle. “That’s clear on the other side of town!” 

It definitely qualified as bougie too.

“I enjoy driving. I find it relaxing,” He smiled at her as effortlessly as he smiled at everybody. 

“Right… you find driving across town through insane rush hour traffic in a city of over a million people relaxing.” 

What a fucking weirdo.

She opened the door at last and got out before he could take it upon himself to open it for her. “Uh… seriously though - thanks, Emmrich. I’d probably still be waiting for the bus. Sorry for… for being so stubborn about it.” 

“I’m just glad that you’re home safe.” The pleasant expression on his face lingered, and the light spilling out from the apartment lobby made him look rather nice, she thought. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rook. Take care.”

“For sure. Uh… have a good night, Emmrich.” 

She closed the door and swung her backpack over her shoulder, carefully navigating the slushy walkway up to her building lest she slip and eat shit - the last thing she needed.

Withdrawing her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the lobby door and as it closed behind her she looked through the glass. 

As it turned out, he absolutely was the sort to sit and wait until she got inside safely. 

She flicked on the entryway light when she entered her suite on the fourth floor, crossing over to the window in time to see him pulling away at last, the red glow of his brake lights getting smaller until she could no longer see them. 

She put her nose against the damp sleeve of her coat. It smelled like new car.

[candidoptronix]

Deviser Light Source LS310A with Visual Fault Locator -

Its user-friendly instruments project a high-precision, semiconductor-grade laser for stable and accurate measurements.

DifUse the LS310A/B in conjunction with an AE210, 230, or 270 Optical Power Meter to access new paired functions such as wavelength auto-ID. Dual-λ mode switches between two wavelengths rapidly, producing measurement data for both.

[internationaldayoflight]

Make them Shine with Light.

The Active Learning in Optics Group in Department of Physics at Quaid-i-Azam university are going to organize a one day hands on workshop at Rawalpindi Women University with 4th Semester undergraduate girls student. We will start with oral presentation on ” Introduction to LASER followed by hands on sessions on: • Different kinds of light sources • Scattering of Light • Reflection, refraction, transmission and total internal reflection. • Proving laws of Geometrical optics, finding critical angle • Working principle of Fiber optics communication • Interference of light • Single and double slit diffraction • Measuring Stress with polarisers

[muletia]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

obsessed!smokescreen x human!reader

summary: you and smokescreen are trying to watch a movie, but his irresistible and constant need for closeness stubbornly gets in the way. will you make it to the end? (spoiler: you won’t)

cw: fluff, suggestive, obsessive thoughts, unhealthy clinginess, possessiveness, very mild not nsfw dub-con, biting/marking, very light manipulation from smokey

word count: 1570

Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Consciousness drifts into another dimension, and your head slowly tilts forward further as you lose contact with reality and embrace sleep with open arms. But alas, sleep is not meant for you—not yet. Your boyfriend is keeping watch, ensuring you continue your fight to stay awake. And when he's near you, he seems unusually attuned to moments like these.

"Hey, hey, don't drift off on me now," he pleads, voice desperate, because this isn’t your first slip-up. "We just started the movie!"

"Ah, sorry," you mumble, rubbing your face to try and wake yourself up, which works. For now.

Your attention returns to the flickering TV screen in the garage, and for a moment, you really do feel alert. You're not proud of how easily you drift off, especially with company, but the day's events are catching up to you, pulling your eyelids downward. You’d promised him you’d finally finish this movie together— you’ve both tried to get through it multiple times, only to be interrupted every single time by something—or rather, someone.

That someone is none other than your personal heater sitting next to you, the primary disruptor of your small private movie nights.

And, as you catch him from the corner of your eye, it's clear he’s got a new idea for spicing up your passive movie-watching routine. His broad smile is utterly contagious, and you fight hard not to let your lips curl. It’s endearing, but you’re not falling for it—not yet. You know exactly where this evening will go if you give him your attention. After all, you’ve lived this scenario many times before.

"Optics on the screen," you chide softly. "We just started the movie, hypocrite."

"Oh, I am watching," he replies, with mock indignation.

"Not me!" you sigh. "We’re not restarting this movie for the tenth time. Look at the screen." You motion toward the brightest source of light in the room.

He knows he should listen. He’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. He also chose the film—one of your favorites—because he wanted to experience it with you, to watch your reactions, hear your thoughts, and discuss it afterward. All of it was just a way to interact with you, to be showered in your attention. To absorb it like the finest energon, savoring its addictive sweetness.

It’s not his fault that everything you do is infinitely more interesting than any fiction on the small screen. Sure, he likes human culture and finds it genuinely fascinating—but only because you’re at its center. You’re the one who reveals its secrets, who offers him glimpses of the daily life he so desperately wants to be a part of. Watching movies together lets him simulate that life. He knows he should use every chance to learn more about your world. The problem is, he can’t focus.

It’s not as if there are moments when he thinks of you more or less. No—he’s always thinking about you. Seven days a week, every hour of Earth’s solar cycle. During missions, patrols, recharge—even when he’s with you. It’s suffocating, overwhelming his processor, a constant need to express his untamed emotions, but with no outlet to relieve the ever-growing weight.

Having you by his side is wonderful—feeling your scent, your warmth; brushing shoulders and sharing a blanket. But, ever ambitious, he needs more. Thoughts of you provide only fleeting satisfaction, failing to meet even a fraction of his desire. They leave him helpless once again.

Smokescreen doesn’t want to be just an observer anymore, a witness to the action around him. Those days died with Cybertron.

He wants to feel, touch, and explore, even though he already knows every inch of your body—every mole, scar, and birthmark. Alien, but captivatingly beautiful. Unparalleled softness. Addictive. Meant to be worshipped and adored. It’s no surprise his servos fit your curves perfectly, as if you were made for each other—not just in spark, but in body too. No stimulant could compare to the euphoria of adoring you. No human cinematic masterpiece, no mission, no praise from Optimus Prime himself.

"You’re incorrigible," you sigh. "You just missed the most important part."

Suddenly, he realizes he’s spent the last several kliks staring only at you, fantasizing about physically expressing all the emotions roiling within him. His servos are trembling now, and he has to touch you—to prove how much you mean to him, how vital you are in his life.

Electricity courses through his frame—a signal of surpassing limits. He’s nearing a breaking point, teetering on the edge of abandoning the careful balance of your relationship. Can’t let that happen. He accepts destroying himself, allowing his yearning for you to dictate his sanity, but no scars could ever mar your soul. No matter how many he bears himself.

His trembling servos find the fabric of your shirt and gently tug at it. Enough to send a signal, not to frighten. If you pull away—he’ll shatter.

"Hey," he begins. You glance at him briefly, but your eyes quickly return to the screen. He tugs harder, practically pawing at your stomach now, desperate for attention. "Please, I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. We can finish it another time, can’t we?"

He knows he’s repeating himself, using the same lines he always does. It’s cheap and undignified, unworthy of someone whom even Optimus Prime considered passing the Matrix to. But his need has consumed him, taken over his frame and spark, which craves you so intensely that static buzzes in his audials. Every molecule of his being chants your name, begging for you.

He moves closer, exerting pressure. It’s a dangerous game, one that could easily irritate you. But he’s so desperate he has to play his cards on this gambit.

"I promise we’ll finish it next time, okay? [Name], please, I need you."

"We could also finish it tonight, hmm?" you offer.

"But I already missed the most important part."

"You’re smart—you’ll catch up on the plot." He sees your playful smile, teasing him with your intentions. But this time, he’s too overwhelmed to join in the game.

One servo continues tugging at the edge of your shirt while the other slides beneath it, cautious and precise—while he still has the control to be so.

You finally give in, unable to focus on the film any longer.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that," you warn, finally turning your head toward him.

What greets you are wide, pleading optics, shimmering with need. Begging for you. Beautiful, but deceptive. Luring you into a trap. Or maybe you’ve already been ensnared? Enchanted into letting him do more—letting his servo wander further up, finding its way to your chest.

"Incorrigible," you murmur, tilting your head slightly to one side, exposing your neck—his canvas for the evening. "But at least I’m not sleepy anymore."

"Good," he purrs near your neck. Warm, processed air brushes against your sensitive skin. "I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I’m afraid it’ll take a very long time."

Servos press tightly to your body, while dentas leave their mark, creating art from love bites—one of his favorite human inventions. Such a pity he couldn’t bear them himself—would flaunt them proudly if he could.

"I wish they lasted forever," he whispers, kissing the bruised skin, already intoxicated by your closeness, even though it’s only a fraction of what he craves.

"And I don’t," you admit. His response is a hurt whine, but Smokescreen quickly resumes his work, moving slightly higher. His marks always came out messy, more like bites than love bites, but he was so proud of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to criticize him. At least, not directly.

"One of my friends noticed them once. She thought I’d been mauled by a wild animal."

You feel him smile against your skin because it’s an accurate description of his love. Wild, untamed.

"Sorry," but it's also unimaginably tender. "But you like them, right? I’m good at this, aren’t I?"

"You’re unmatched, love."

Not sensing the sarcasm, he holds you tighter, as if he wants to merge you both into one being. Feels his trembling spark yearning for a bond, a union with yours. And while you can’t grant him that, the mere act of sharing the most intimate, vulnerable parts of himself is satisfactory. Not enough, because nothing ever will be. Just like the love bites, the most blissful interfacing, or kisses and cuddles. They work for a brief moment, a fraction of existence. They fill the void, which begins emptying the moment you part.

"I need more," he groans. "Please. I need you."

"I wish you were this eager about watching movies."

You reach for the remote because yet another movie attempt has ended in failure. Your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate your effort to put some distance between you, even for a few millimeters. His servos hold you firmly in place, and his dentas possessively catch your neck. Luckily, you don’t have to reach far.

"We’ll manage next time," he promises, though the absent tone of his voice makes it clear he’s lying. You know he won’t last. He’ll falter at the start, trying to make up for lost time by showering you with affection, though it’ll only be a fraction of what he wants to give.

"Hard to believe that."

"Mhm, love you too," he mutters, utterly enraptured by your closeness.