#Vacuum Bagging Film

[vacuumbag1899]

Double layer sealed storage plastic bag

[trivenipack]

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[pepperpatrol]

I will admit that my unfettered internet access from a young age probably fucked me up in ways that they could write a book about. But like, none of that was discovering porn.

[gibsongirled]

Erm hii.. I'm new here but uhh I wanna request a Jschlatt fic!! Basically the reader puts on schlatts sweater because all of their clothes are dirty and schlatt comes home and sees them and gets flustered!! Erm take your time with it and whatnot :D

LAUNDRY DAY !!

description: laundry day sucks, but at least you get to raid schlatt's closet for his sweaters.

a/n: this was such a silly req, i love it !!

Laundry day was probably the bane of your existence.

Half of the clothes in your closet were empty and left you with clothes that you didn’t want to wear yet couldn’t seem to get rid of. Huh, they were right when they said that humans will pack bond with anything. That meme was silly. So you were stuck with an old band shirt and pajama shorts when laundry day rolled around. That outfit was the thing you were willing to wear.

Schlatt was out filming that pizza video in Coney Island. He had been talking about it for weeks, and it had gotten to the point where you dreamed of pizza every night after each conversation with him. You were not even shocked- it was cute seeing him all excited. You told him to bring a slice back for you. The dreary New York weather made you feel like you were supposed to be curled up in bed with a good book, but it was your turn for the chores around the house, so you powered through and fought the urge to yawn once every few minutes.

The kitchen was spotless and shiny, you could do your make up by using the sink as a mirror (don’t do that). The floors were dust free and the cats zoomed around in a panic when you vacuumed. You finally sorted through that junk drawer you’ve been meaning to go through since ages and kept mostly everything, but reorganized them so that it looked like you threw some of them out (that random screw you found will be useful one day. You just knew it).

The load of laundry was now in the washing machine, and you yawned. Suddenly finishing everything made you bored, so you decided to comb through Schlatt’s closet. His closet was a sweater utopia with each sweater hanging in their full glory. You looked over each of them until you settled on the Polizei sweater. The green material felt soft in your hands and you pulled it off the hanger, sliding it on your body. You checked yourself in the mirror, making several poses and giggling. Hell yeah, you looked cool.

You sat back down on the couch, doomscrolling through your phone and snuggled into the sweater as you waited for the laundry to be done. You heard the door unlock and lifted your head to greet him. “Hey, welcome home.” You said, letting out a yawn and placed your phone on the coffee table.

“How was filming?”

“It was good,” Schlatt replied, holding up a plastic bag up for you to see, “got you a slice just like you asked…” he trailed off, seemingly speechless all of a sudden. You raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in tone, “you good?”

“Yeah- yeah,” Schlatt nodded, setting down the bag on the coffee table. “Is that my sweater?”

You hummed, looking down at the dark green sweater you were wearing. “Yeah, it was cold and I just thought- I can take it off if you want?” You prattled on, making the move to pull off the sweater.

“No- no,” Schlatt stopped you, looking down at you with a slight blush in his cheeks.

“You look good wearin’ my sweater.”

“You think?”

Schlatt nodded, “You look very good.”

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Always There

Note: I know I’ve been MIA for a while but the “writer block” bug bit me good. Anyways, hope I can apologize better with this Gibbs Prompt!

Prompt: Gibbs has a panic attack after hearing old military footage.

"Tony, knock it off, you're gonna make me drop it and then we're all gonna be in trouble," you warned the overly excited agent as he made grandous hand motions near the tray of coffees you had.

"Oh come on, Y/N. I know you're just as excited as me. You're the biggest crime noir movie nerd I know."

You just smiled at his theatrics as the both of you exited the elevators and walked towards the bullpen, where the rest of the team was waiting.

"Tony been talking your ear off about the new Gregory Haines film?" McGee asked as you handed over his coffee with an eyeroll.

"You have no idea. It took him 10 minutes just to order his coffee because he was busy talking about the trailer with the barista."

You handed Bishop her loaded breakfast bagel and latte before finishing with Gibbs' tall black coffee. He was quietly engrossed in whatever case file was on his desk, barley looking up to greet you. It was unusual of him since you two were kind of a thing now. Of course no one knew about it, but for the last 3 months or so, you and Gibbs had been going on late night dates and hanging out at each others houses, occasionally sleeping together.

You blamed his distant behavior on keeping a professional cover with you so as not to arise any suspicion from the team, but kept a reminder in your head to ask him about it later.

"But she just can't help going back to him, totally oblivious to the fact that he's actually the town murderer-

"DiNozzo. Are you able to focus today?" Gibbs inquired in irritation, irrupting Tony's lengthy synopsis to Bishop. His tone was a bit more gruff than usual, even throwing Tony off a bit.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry boss. Back to work."

As Tony took his seat at his desk, McGee pulled up a picture of a very obvious decomposed body being pulled from the water. "Master Sargent Gantry, was found by local police, washed up on the shore 2 days ago. Shot in the head, the county's ME determined the cause of death to be a suicide after tracing the trajectory of the bullet and the linking it to the Master Sargent's missing sidearm that the police found when doing a sweep of the lake." Using the clicker, he changed the screen so that it showed a picture of a plastic bag filled with what looked like letters and a personal recording device. "Unfortunately, a couple days later, they also found this vacuum sealed bag containing letters to the Master Sargent and a recording of an unidentified male admitting to friendly fire during a firefight back in Iraq of 1991."

"1991? Wasn't that-

Before Bishop could finish whatever historical fact she had in mind, she was interrupted by Gibbs.

"Operation Desert Storm."

All of you turned to look at him as he stood up from his desk, coffee in his hand.

"DiNozzo and McGee, I want you two getting all the information you can from Master Sargent Gentry's time in the Marine Corps. Find out if anyone had any problems with him that would suggest motive. Bishop, I want all the records pulled from the ME that did Gentry's autopsy, talk with Ducky and Palmer. Y/N, you're with me. Abby and Sloan are going over the recording found with our victims body."

No one dared asked any follow up questions as all the clues were adding up. His more than usual grumpiness, the distant look in his eyes. You all knew Gibbs served in Desert Storm so seeing what looked like a fragging on a superior officer and possible friend, would definitely offput him.

You caught up to him as he entered the elevator, destined to the lab. It was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to speak.

"You ok?

He just nodded, but didn't speak further on it. Once the doors opened, you were following behind as he entered Abby's lab, where Sloan was already waiting. She looked just as worried as you felt.

"Whadya got Abbs?"

"Ok, so luckily for us, the letters and recording were vacuum sealed in a plastic bag, preserving them perfectly. The letter don't give any names or clues as to who wrote them but when I listened on the recording, I found something."

Gibbs nodded to her, to which she turned to her computer and clicked a button, immediately filling the lab with loud sounds of machine guns firing. It was the only time you had ever seen Gibbs visibly flinch. As you all listened to the audio clearly describing a firefight with enemy forces, you noticed the change in Gibbs' demeanor. He seemed to stand rigid as his free hand slowly closed itself in a fist, while the other adjusted holding his coffee in almost a nervous manner.

Are they coming from the south side or not?!

Who's got eyes on that treeline?!

The sounds of bullets ricocheting off of metal could be heard as a couple of men cursed before returning fire.

Check your fire Watts!

Did I hit him?! Tell me I didn't hit him Sarge! Is he moving?!

You could see the hard swallow come from Gibbs as he turned towards the exit, glancing quickly over you before looking away. In that split second, you identified exactly what he was feeling. Panic.

"That's enough Abby," you spoke, making her quickly stop the recording in concern. You looked over at Sloan who was also know focused on Gibbs.

"You alright Gibbs?" she asked tentatively.

He cleared his throat and nodded before heading to leave. "Send the recording to DiNozzo and McGee. Have them identify the voices."

As he walked out, he threw his full cup of coffee away in the trash, confirming that something wasn't right. As Sloan made an attempt to follow him, you stopped her.

"I got it. You stay with Abby."

He had almost managed to escape you through the elevators but you threw your arm in between the doors, causing them to open back up as you slipped in.

As the elevator began it's accent, you watched as Gibbs leaned his head back against the wall, eyes shut, and began breathing a bit heavier than before. Knowing, he would never want anyone to see him like this, you hit the emergency stop button and went over to him.

"Gibbs. It's me, y/n. Can you hear me?"

He didn't answer, but instead turned to face the wall, hands gripping the railing till his knuckles were white. You knew at this point, he was fully immersed in a panic attack and couldn't talk. He was now breathing through his mouth, eyes still shut and you knew if you didn't so something, he was gonna start hyperventilating.

So you squeezed yourself underneath his arms so that it was you between him and the wall and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hear you.

"Jethro, it's me. You're having a panic attack and I need you to slow your breathing for me, alright?"

He shook his head in defiance as his jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Just listen to me. Listen to my voice. You're here with me. We're in the elevator, no one else is here."

You were surprised when he used one arm to wrap around your waist, squeezing you tightly, as the other stayed gripped to the railing.

"I- I can hear them-

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. He sounded defeated and almost scared, causing you to hold him tighter. Still, you whispered the same words over again, hoping to bring him out of the obvious memory he was reliving.

"You're not there anymore. It's over, you're here now. With me. In the elevator. Bishop is down in the bullpen. Ducky and Palmer are in autopsy. Vance is in his office."

You recited everything to him, describing all the details.

"Just breath with me Jethro. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Keep doing that."

You practiced normal breathing with him until you finally felt some of his body relax. His other hand eventually let go of the railing and joined his other arm to wrap around you. His grip was still tight and his face was buried in the crook of your neck but his breathing was a lot better. Now you began to feel his body start trembling as all the adrenaline was slowly finding ways to leave him.

You knew the worst of it was over and you didn't need to talk anymore, but just hold him and stay with him until he was back in control. You ran your fingers through his hair in the same motion over and over again while making sure to take in deep breaths.

Once you felt his grip loosen and take a step back, you wiped your own tears that had fallen and smiled gently up at him. He quickly wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, obviously somewhat embarrassed about what happened but as he turned to look away from you, you pulled his face towards yours and kissed him.

You heard him sigh into the kiss as he pulled you back into his arms.

"Thank you," he said, moving to nuzzle your neck again.

"Of course. I'll always be there for you Jethro."

The both of you took a few more minutes to pull yourselves together before facing the rest of them team, which you knew were gonna have a lot of questions after Abby filled them in on what happened.

But none of it mattered as you smiled slightly to yourself, feeling closer to Gibbs than ever before.

[maeijie]

pretty please. PROLOGUE

— dad!gojo satoru x fem!reader

cw. implied one night stand (if you squint) but no explicit detail, reader is not present

note. giving another go with writing, and first time writing for the chosen man himself. not proofread

word count. 1.4k

series masterlist | next

His pure white locks of snow, blue hues like a diamond under the sun, anatomy sculpted like marble statues of mythologies. With just a snap of his fingers, he can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it: A woman's name, unreleased line clothings of his favorite brand, rare pairs and pairs of jewelries, and any private island can be his to take.

Being on a very high position in society as an actor, with millions of loving fans from in and out of Japan, has immensely inflated his ego that it has reached heights heigher than any penthouse he could purchase.

He loves the attention. He loves that he could pull one or more arm from the many women that clings to him on to his bed and they'd say thank you. He loves that on every party he attends or host, he'll always be the life of the night.

When he enters the room, he loves that everyone howls and cheers.

He is the all and mighty Gojo Satoru.

-

Grogginess was what first filled all of Satoru's senses when he awoke on his expensive king sized bed.

Turning his head away from the glare of the sun sipping through his curtains, a groan rumbles from his throat, a low octave of tone that women go crazy for. He scratches his bare chest before finally blinking his eyelids open, welcoming the soft morning hues throughout his bedroom.

He contemplates to stay in bed before inevitably standing up. Satoru darts his eyes around his room whilst looking for his shirt that he discarded last night.

As he descended the stairs, he pulled the piece of clothing over his head when he saw his maid, a middle-aged woman, was ready to leave for the day. Heading towards the door with her bag in hand.

"Keiko. Going home?"

The said woman turns in small shock before smiling kindly at her boss. "Oh, Mr. Gojo. I didn't know you were already awake. But yes, I've done your laundry and some cleaning. Apologies if I disturbed you because of the vacuum."

Satoru hums, stepping off the last bit of stairs. "Nope, you didn't." he scratches his head, looking around.

"Anyways, have you seen..?"

Keiko seems to squint before coming to a realization. "You mean Ms. Hanna?"

"Yeah, her." He scratches his neck, not showing much interest as he heads to the kitchen. "I sent her home earlier when she woke up, as you normally instruct me to do." Keiko replies, watching as he tastes the breakfast she prepared, then seeing him nod in acknowledgment to her cooking and statement.

"Good. You can go now. Oh, and you don't need to come back here tonight." The woman simply bowed with a smile, uttering a quiet 'thank you' before heading out.

Finally he was really alone, stretching his limbs as he heard the cracks of his joints in pure satisfaction.

This was how his days normally went. Whenever his schedule was clear of agendas, he's able to party and mingle at night, then do what he liked the next day. Recently, he just finished filming an action movie that lasted almost two years of production and was set to release next year. And since promotion doesn't start until then, he had all the free time in the world as of this moment. He's particularly not active in social media, but he has his own team that does the advertising of his soon-to-be released film for him.

He looks around his lavish home. It was a penthouse at one of the top floors of the establishment. Stationed at Japan's richest district, overlooking the busy city and with the most perfect view of the famous red structure, Tokyo Tower.

This is Gojo Satoru's life. Content and satisfied. Tough choices and sacrifices were made to be where he's at, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to meditate the past and regret. He is where he is now, after all.

A ding resonates from his phone, indicating that someone has texted him. Opening his messages, he sees his trusted manager, that has been with him since the very beginning of his career, has sent him a text.

Mr. Yamada: How was the party last night? Anyways, any plans for your 8th anniversary? It's pretty soon.

8 years ago, was the moment fame was introduced to Satoru. Almost 8 years ago was when his life completely flipped and ascended into great glory. It was a golden day for Satoru, and he has made it that he would celebrate this every single year.

Satoru respects Mr. Yamada, and he rarely does to anyone. He has led Satoru towards his first stepping stone in his journey, and now he's here living the glamour dream with Mr. Yamada still following him with support. In a way, Satoru feels indebted to him. He has pushed Satoru into choosing the right decisions when he himself couldn't.

His career would be cripple and dust without this man.

Despite that, Satoru places down his device, deciding to send a response later as he felt that it was still to early and because he was hungry.

And just as he was about to take a bite of his meal, his doorbell went off. He raised a brow, his jaw slacked and chop sticks halfway toward his mouth. Satoru let it settle, waiting to see if the person out his door would activate the sound again.

When they didn't, he proceeded with his food, chewing away.

But he drops his utensil when his phone suddenly let out a sound, alerting him that someone was at his door. He clicks his tongue, irritated as he pressed the notification to check his intercom. 'People, I swear.'

He expected it to be a fan, or more like a stalker, that discovered his address. He was ready to turn on the mic of his phone that connected to the devices that was out his front door, call off the person to go away when he only saw a blob of hair below the screen.

"What the.." Satoru furrowed his brows at the scene, wondering if the person was kneeling or something. However his thought was dismissed when a tiny face of a little girl pops up, seemingly on her tippy toes as she clicks the button that turns on the mic.

And just as she did that, a young, high-pitched greeting resonates from the speaker of his device. "Helloooo!!"

Now this was odd. He scrunches his nose in confusion. A random child was just outside his property. Satoru was then further confused when the child says something about if her Father was here.

"Excuse me? Father? Me?" he utters in disbelief. Placing his phone down, he decided to ignore her, shaking his head in dismissal as he thought that the address was most likely mistaken. Satoru chuckles at the thought of him having a child, continuing with his meal. "Kids are crazy these days." he says with a playful grin, shaking his head.

But then the little girl added something. With her high pitched voice, she said:

"Uhm, Mr. Gojo!!! It's your daughter!!!"

Now that's just insane. Satoru chokes on his food, violently coughing as he ran to his fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. Downing the liquid to ease his throat, he exhales loudly before his eyes went full-blown wide.

"My daughter??" Not only did she say that, she also knew his name.

Something was up. It was too unbelievable for Satoru. No kid should just walts to some stranger's door and claim to be their child.

He speed walked towards his front door to confront the child to say that she was mistaken and that she needs to check his neighbors that was two floors downstairs. "You gotta be kidding me."

Turning the lock before he pushed the door open, he looks down to see the little girl, maybe 3 feet in height, in her arms was a little bunny plush, her eyes eerily too similar to his. But what caught his attention more are the tiny suitcase and bag that was accompanied with her.

Gojo Satoru, with just a snap of his fingers, can manifest whatever he wanted on the very palm of his hand. He just had to utter it. He can get anything, and has everything. Satoru is well aware of that, which is why his ego was higher than any penthouse he could buy. So imagine his surprise when he does in fact have everything,

Including a child.

"Hi, mister. I'm Saori."

[thislovintime]

Behind the scenes during the filming of Head, 1968.

“The first thing I heard was Mike, ‘All I can say is, “Man, am I in pain!”’ And you could that he was, so the director yelled, ‘OK bring ‘em down and let’s see if we can adjust those things.’‘Those things’ were harnessed attached around their waists to enable them to seemingly fly through the air. […] ‘Shoot’ yelled the director and Mike, Micky and Peter began flailing while two men shoved the huge hose down past them in a gigantic rush of noise. ‘Wow, was that wild’ exclaimed Micky. ‘Well, it scared the #%&$# out of me,’ groaned Mike. I have to admit the whole thing was rather frightening, but the director seemed intent on making the guys do it themselves rather than using stand-ins. All four of them do almost all of their own stunt work in the movie. […] I kept watching Mike, wondering how much more he’d be able to take, until finally they let him down for a few minutes rest. Peter and Micky seemed OK; but Mike looked like he felt awful. […] Mike picks up a large cigarette butt and says ‘Well, it’s not one of your standard brands.’ This line turned out to be quite a problem as they argue over how to deliver the line — should it be obvious what they are talking about or subtle. Mike wanted to do it like W.C. Fields, one of the all time great comedians and one of Mike’s idols, would have done it, but he and the director couldn’t seem to agree. At one point, Peter seemed about to reach the breaking point of his patience, when he suddenly walked to the end of the set, stomped up and down once, shouted, took a deep breath, turned and said ‘OK, I’m ready.’I learned later that Peter was actually feeling quite bad also. A week earlier he had had an abscessed tooth, which had swollen up one whole side of his face and they hadn’t had time for him to take a week off and wait for it to go back down, so he’d had the infected tooth removed without missing a day of work. On top of this, he felt a cold coming on and was stuffing down cold tablets all day. Micky’s only problem seemed to be an insatiable hunger.” - Carol Deck, Flip, August 1968 “[In the vacuum bag] Michael finds […] the butt end of a marijuana cigarette. He wanted to say, ‘Oh, look, a marijuana cigarette.’ Bob [Rafelson] said, ‘No, no, it’s gotta be El Zoomo.’ Which is what happens [in the Final Cut of Head]. Micky pokes the thing and says, ‘El Zoomo.’ We thought saying, ‘Oh, look, a marijuana cigarette,’ was far and away hipper. Bob was concerned just saying marijuana on a movie was enough to get us in trouble. We actually went off to cool our heels. We were three or four hours screwing our minds around to going with what he said. ‘And if you don’t like it, get off my set’: another example of Bob’s exquisite delicacy with his actors and his extraordinary human relations skills.” - Peter Tork, Shindig Magazine, 2010

[latibulater]

Venture family habits:

Brock always leaves a mess in the kitchen, and it always irritates Dean. Dean gets a new word or phrase stuck in his head and will repeat it for weeks until Doc tells him to shut up. Rusty will always take up like 5x the amount of couch that he needs to leaving his family to crouch in (as a lil kid Hank used to just jump straight on top of Doc when he does that). Hank will constantly be changing the a/c temp or turning fans on and freezing other people out.

They all have water over any other (nonalcoholic) drink, and between the four of them they go through like 2 bags of bagels a week (3 if dermott is hanging out). All of them devour popcorn (brock likes cheese, dean likes kettlecorn, hank eats classic butter and salt, and doc always goes for zebra). Brock loves nuts and seeds and besides cigarette smoke and blood he's always leaving behind shells. Dean enjoys them but the cracking it open and spitting out the shell

Helper and Brock and Dean will share books while Rusty and Hank are huge flick chicks and can binge watch endlessly. Family movie night the few successful times have always been a play turned film like Romeo+Juliet, Anastasia, Cats, Les Mis (Doc has a very heavy hand in picking out the movies)

Hank and Doc tend to stick out their tongue while concentrating while Brock and Dean sometimes trip over their words when not thinking about it

Brock and Rusty always debate about their tastes in music while Dean and Hank will interject enough to keep riling them up in a silly argument like asking abt the Beegles (their version of the beatles)

They all hate creaky hallways and doors so if Brock isn't there then one of the other 3 will fix a bad hinge without thinking twice. When Helper has his day off, Hank prefers to do the dishes, Dean does the dusting, Brock vacuums, and Doc wipes down all the surfaces and windows

All of them are into intimidating women and men

[vacuumbag1899]

Plastic nylon embossed vacuum sealing bag film

[steelycunt]

for the ask game!! light, pink, paperback, sigh <33

hii!! thank yooo!! 💒

light:

How wonderful, to grow up somewhere like this—where the lights are always on and there are so many laps to climb into; how different, thinks Sirius, from the black and lonely vacuum of his own childhood.

pink:

He looks past Remus, up to the people cluttering the steps of the hall: he raises his arms like a prize-fighter, a pink-gummed prima donna in a navy bomber jacket.

paperback:

They sort the money they raise into little plastic bags, line them up on the tables in Kingsley’s cluttered backroom like soldiers, here between piles of paperbacks and cassette tapes, cardboard boxes under a film of dust and a transistor radio they soon discover is broken.

sigh:

Remus sighs, dropping his head back against the headrest, and says, “I’m not going to do a thing like that.”

send me a word + if its in the wip i'll give you the sentence!

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 222 Trivia (Part 1)

Fun fact: this chapter is from issue #2 of WSJ's 2022 collection!

The Apollo mission had spacesuits tailor-made to each astronaut, but these days it's easier to use interchangeable parts and switch them out according to the size of the wearer, rather than having the whole suit fitted.

However, the gloves are always custom-sized for dexterity.

Vinyl fabric doesn't seem to have ever been used as part of a spacesuit, however spandex and nylon have, especially in the inner layers.

Outer layers include Teflon, Kevlar, and aluminized Mylar.

It's possible that rather than being used for the fabric, the vinyl is used for the suit's interior cooling tube system, and the aluminum is used for the Mylar rather than for the exterior metal parts, as pure aluminum is easily scratched.

You probably recognize this panel from the end of chapter 219. The only difference is Ryusui's head has been swapped with Stanley's.

Japanese doesn't have a "V" sound, which is why Chrome says "by" rather than "vi" or "vy".

Generally English words used in Japanese make this switch, for example "violin" becoming "baiorin" due to the lacking of "V" and "L" sounds.

This building may be where they're assembling the SENKU 11 rocket, however in this first panel it appears completed, but in later ones it's still under construction.

The PS5 was first announced in April 2019, and released November 2020. First images of the console were revealed on June 11th 2020.

The first global petrification happened in June 2019, so this person would know about the console but not known what it was meant to look like.

The robot maid request is most likely a reference to "Me and Roboco", another manga currently being published in Weekly Shonen Jump alongside Dr. Stone. It's a comedy series that follows a powerful-but-clumsy maid robot in a grade schooler's service.

(Later, Me and Roboco came out with a Dr. Stone parody for the 15th volume cover)

The vacuum tubes are back in the form of cavity magnetrons. These produce the microwaves that bounce around the microwaves' interior body.

The cooking effect was first discovered in 1945 when Percy Spencer noticed a candy bar had melted in his pocket after testing magnetrons.

Plastic wrap is vinyl that has been flattened to between 8-12 μm thick, (approximately 0.001 cm). For context, this is about as thick as a spider's web or the size of a droplet of water in fog.

The film Senku makes here is cellulose triacetate film, which is less flammable than earlier celluloid film, earning it the nickname "safety film".

The 8 mm part is the width of the film strip.

Unlike reusable hand-warmers that use supersaturated sodium acetate, these are one-time use and rely on oxidation to create heat. Once the packaging is opened, air penetrates the bag, oxidizing the iron. Vermiculite is added to remove moisture & salt is added as a catalyst.

Chrome's design wouldn't work properly because he uses iron sand rather than iron powder. Iron sand is mostly magnetite, which is already an iron oxide and thus won't have the oxidation reaction or create heat.

The fridge (or maybe mini wine cellar/fridge?) design is a parody of Smeg, a kitchen appliance brand.

You can also see the Senku-brand PlayStation, robot maid, and protein powder.

(Next part)

[kafkaoftherubble]

Hello friend!

11, 12, 21, 23 for the ask game :3

A rare moment when I, Lyndis, reblogs an ask game and don't say shit like DON'T ASK ME I HAVE NO TIME TO WRITE A RAMBLE and THIS IS FOR MY MUTUALS TO REBLOG SO I CAN ASK YOU.

12- What do you want to be remembered for when you die?

Honestly, I don't mind not being remembered for anything, since I'm more interested in my actions than other people's memories of me.

I favor people remembering me in occasional snippets, flashes of memories simply because some actions or experiences reminded them of me than everyone trying to make sense of who I was only after I died.

I remember people this way, too; plenty of stuff that happens now will remind me of someone—no matter how distant they were. They could be my friend for those few hours while we were in that children's park, or a stranger I just happened to be staring at as something happened, or a person who had wanted to befriend me but didn't know how to bridge the gap because I was so weird.

I will remember the event(s) that involved them. And then the current me will have new appraisals and understandings of that person in this memory. Many of these random people are still alive (I guess through statistics! Ahahah!), but they are already remembered because their actions meant something—for good or ill, and sometimes, both—to the me of that time.

So I prefer that. I don't want to be remembered as the person I am at the time of death. I want to be remembered as the person I was at a snippet of time because of a deed I've done. Good or bad, it's fine.

---

Wow, I am already writing a loooooong one. BUT YOU EXPECTED THAT, DIDN'T YOU?

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

21- How would you dispose of a body?

Hey, wait a second. What makes you think I will ever need to do this?! I need to read up on the literature, put out a Microsoft Excel sheet on bibliography and citations, and then write a thesis to come up with a good way of disposal. You can't just spring this one on me!

I think I will dismember it and store the parts in vacuum bags separately to throw them away (without the bags because they don't decompose). Feeding it to wildlife at the bottom of a canyon or high in the mountain is great, but I don't have that sort of place nearby.

If I have the money, I will do it the normal way. Funeral homes and cremation.

Hmm... If I live in Scandinavian countries, body disposal might be an easier feat given the vast forests. At least, that's what Nordic noir films and drama say. Also, if I were to live in those countries, I don't think I'd resort to murder to solve my problems, cause' I kinda think violence is the means of the incompetent (and sometimes, the choiceless). Yea, I don't think I'm the type to kill for pleasure.

---

23- Would you rather be burned at the stake but die a saint beloved by all, or die peacefully but have nobody remember you?

Oh! Hmm. Again, since I don't mind not being remembered the way most people conceptualized "being remembered" (see my answer for Q12)... the latter isn't bad at all.

This is particularly because this question didn't preclude the latter from also being helpful and benevolent to the people who live around them or even performing deeds that go a long way toward helping a lotta people. They just don't get burned at a stake. Or be recognized as a saint for their work. Aye, that's not bad at all!

In the case where the sorta things I want to do—or the deeds worth doing—deadass ensures a fate at the stake as a beloved saint, and there's absolutely no way out of this?

Urgh, fine. But I will definitely be complaining. Even my AAHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUCKKKK will have tonal inflections so you know I died complaining. I will go out noisily.

It's kinda funny, but I'm now wondering which feels more embarrassing to me. The fact that I'm tied to a stake for this fiery punishment, or the fact that I'm somehow a saint and everyone loves me. Bruh?

I'm telling ya, both make my cheeks burn. The former does that literally once the pyre starts, though.

---

11- When’s the last time you cried?

The last time I cried was Monday night.

Now, you might wonder why. I will tell you because I don't want you to be worried. But there's a reason why this is the last one. I won't be graphic, and it's ultimately—objectively—very ridiculously trivial, but it may be triggering to people with OCD. Which Future Lyns are.

I tried to be Bob the Builder but ended up hurting both of my thumbs because it turned out, I am Blud the Bozo ("Can we fix it? Yes, with BLOOD!"). One of them was a stab wound, and the other was a cut on the print.

I... I have problems with gashes and cuts. Let's just leave it at that.

This wound didn't even bleed; it was just a dermal cut. Anyway, I got it wrapped with a normal plaster.

When it got to the evening, the plaster came off because I was doing the dishes. I heal quickly, so I thought it must have healed. I didn't look very carefully because I can't stand looking at cuts.

While watching a show with my sister and cousin, my thumb suddenly became itchier and itchier. It became painful, but the itch-pain ratio kept changing. I tried to ignore it, and then I couldn't. It became so overwhelming that I was clutching my hand with another as though I was Kakashi Hatake about to do a Chidori.

My sister was like, "BRO, JUST GET IT DRESSED UP, JESUS."

So I told them to continue watching while I went upstairs to my room, where the first-aid bag was.

Then, suddenly, I fell to the floor and started bursting into tears. Legit just sobbing so hard. It wasn't the most painful shit in the world; brutha I have menstrual cramps that can knock me out in public to the diners' horror. This was just itch-pain.

But it's the imageries, yea? That it will be torn open because I would do that. The pain was me tearing it apart! Even though I did no such thing. I pulled my thumb as far away from my other hand because I was afraid that it was true, but it was still itchy and painful and enticing me to rip it, but I didn't want to do that at all, ya know?

I realized that I couldn't even control my body well. It was shaking. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably. The floor was wet with my damn tears. I was just whimpering, man.

Now, the one thing I'm proud of is that my brain has its autonomous zones. The metacognition regions of my brain are fucking ripped, bro. They can operate even when I'm about to black out or close to being compromised (unless I got knocked out by anesthetics). So yea, these regions weren't overwhelmed, so I still remembered what to do. I struggled to get the bag and dropped it instead of putting it down. I did my best to open the zip and pulled out the antiseptic cream tube. Unscrewing it was so hard but finally, I got it!

My fingers were trembling so much, just squeezing a peanut-sized cream was tough. It was hard to aim the cream on my other hand because the target kept moving around uncontrollably. Then spreading it on the gash almost made my hands weak, because I was touching it, and the compulsions...

The last thing to do was to wrap it with a new bandage. Tearing it was easier because my tears had wetted the paper so much. Finally, I got the gash covered.

The itch-pain subsided almost immediately. And the tears just stopped. Control had returned to me like a snap. I wiped my tears and quietly stored the bag. I waited until my throat didn't sound thick with tears and washed my face. I went downstairs and asked, "The fuck did I miss?"

It felt so long. But it was only 10 minutes at most.

Even now, talking about it made my thumb itch a little. Man, the only thing I'm proud of is that I did manage to dress the wound despite all that weird shit over a non-bleeding gash. Nani the fuck?!

THE END! Hope you enjoyed this long read!

P.S. I'm fine now, yea? Don't worry! It's all healed up! See? I can be pathetic too!

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

Today’s to do list. I have one day off so let’s go!

◽️film video introduction for LLC

✅ work on marketing for PT job

◽️work on marketing for LLC (recent clients)

✅ make new client screening form

◽️make new client check list (form, prices, policies)

✅ research hashtags/best times to post

✅ gather fall props for photos for clients

✅ bedding

✅ laundry

✅ clean kitchen

◽️clean living room

◽️clean bedroom

✅ clean bathroom

◽️mop/sweep (not in this order)

◽️vacuum and clean vacuum

✅ clean bunny room

✅ call debt consolidation 😭

✅ budget

✅ prep bunny food for the week

✅ refill bunny water jugs

✅ refill hay bag

◽️put up more fall decor?

◽️look for remote jobs

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

Mystery monster theatre 3000: Human nature (part one)

(yeah there’s a title now! It’ll still be tagged mst3k monster au though, collab with @classicrocker2000)

Even though the episode recording had started, there was a missing cast member. Joel Robinson, castaway, vampire and father walked into Cambot’s view as Tom was on the table wearing a newsboy's cap and holding up a missing poster with Crow’s face on it.

“Now, where are you, Crow? Crow? Croooow? Where are you?” Joel called out. He noticed Cambot and took a deep breath.

“Hi, welcome to the satellite of love. I’m Joel Robinson, and over there is Tom Servo. You see, Crow has gone missing, and we’re looking all over for him. Crow! Oh great Peabody and Sherman are calling.” Joel said, pressing the mads button.

Down in Deep Thirteen, Crow had a gag in his voice pin and was tied to a chair, around Crow’s neck was a cream coloured scarf that Joel recognised as his own. Crow struggled against his bonds that were being tied by TV’s Frank, who then picked up the chair and placed Crow into a cylinder device with an antenna attached to it at the top 

“There’s Crow!“ Tom said. Joel on the other hand was fuming, silently mouthing words that he would never say aloud to his robots or on camera.

Forrester walked into frame, holding a controller that Joel assumed was connected to the device. The mad scientist then looked up with some mock surprise. “Hello boobie, we had to borrow your robot for this one invention, I hope you don’t mind.” Forrester said with some sarcasm to it. 

Joel didn’t say anything, instead he cleared his voice, trying to keep the anger down. 

“I will go first just this once, as a vampire the hardest part of feeding on a person is that when you bite down on a neck, it can get a bit messy. What I have here today is a device that will make feeding a lot easier. Since I don’t have a human body, this blood sausage will make a good substitute for the demonstration.” Joel said, raising up the syringe attached to a small vacuum cleaning bag. He jabbed the syringe into the sausage and pulled the plunger. Tom looked aside to Cambot with some concern. 

In mere moments, the sausage was drained of all of its blood. 

“What do you think sirs?”

In Deep 13, Dr Forrester and Tv’s Frank looked at each other in shock. The silence was only broken by Crow’s struggles against his bonds.

“In all my time, there has never been an invention that you made that I wish I invented. That is so diabolically evil.” Dr Forrester said in shock.

“What do you mean it’s evil? It’s just an easier way to suck blood out of someone and wait… I haven’t fed yet.”

Dr Forrester slapped TV’s Frank at the back of the head. He then smiled.

“My invention today is a teleporter that will make your deliveries much much better. Behold the teleporter that can only teleport inorganic matter.”

“That seems kind of nice? What is the catch? Why can’t you send organic things?” Joel said. 

Dr Forrester smiled wickedly.

“Ever seen The Fly robinson?”

Joel nodded.

“So that means…” Joel started.

“Food still has to be delivered naturally.” TV’s Frank piped in. He snacted the teleportation device’s controller out of Forrester’s hands and touched a few buttons, the cylinder closed while Crow struggled against his bonds. Steam hissed out from the cylinder and the lights  flickered rapidly before conking out. Crow appeared on the SOL, he stood around woozily before Joel took the gag out.

“J-Joel, I don’t feel so good, can I sit out this movie?” Crow said. Crow walked off and off to his room. He groaned and moaned and opened his room door, tossing the beige scarf to the floor.

Crow fell into his bed which was stiff as a board and would be uncomfortable for humans but he was no man.

He was a robot. 

Then the pain began.

—

Tom and Joel finished the episode with defeated looks. With one man down, the film was a tiny bit harder to get through. Joel laid down on the floor and Tom hovered over to Crow’s room, knocked on the door with his dome and waited.

“Don’t come in Tom! I’m hideous!” Crow said.

“Not listening! I’m coming in!” Tom said in a sing-song voice that he usually did in the movies. He nudged the door open and looked around. Tom looked at the bed which looked kind of Crow shaped.

The blankets moved a bit, and instead of Crow, it was a kid who looked around 15 years old. He had dirty blond hair and looked like Joel a little bit, but the differences were there such as wide golden eyes and a slight gap in his teeth.

“L-l-look away please…I’m hideous.”

“Crow?! Is that you?!” Tom yelled. He swiveled over to Crow and stared at him. “You’re all fleshy and human!” 

Crow hid under the blankets again. “I can’t let anyone see me like this! Please!”

“O-Okay, umm…do you want me to get Joel? Maybe GPC?”

Crow nodded. He curled up underneath the blankets. In all his time being alive Tom had never seen Crow like that, he was always snarky and confident, but this seemed the exact opposite. He was just a kid. 

Tom swiveled out. Leaving Crow to take in his new self.

First of all, his arms worked. Well that was a given since he was a human now. He also had hair that curled slightly at the ends. If Crow had to give a strike against his new situation, it was that he could probably no longer be blown up and walk it off. He’d just be dead. Existential dread quickly set in and Crow whimpered. He really was a human now… 

“Now Tom, you really must be pulling my legs if you’re claiming Crow is human.” Crow could hear Joel outside his room.

“I saw it with my own eyes!” Tom protested as the door opened. Crow buried himself deeper into the blankets. Even though he was used to being naked before, right now he just felt…he couldn’t understand. What was it called? Embarrassment?

A blast of cold air hit Crow’s face as Joel lifted the blanket slightly.

“….hey Joel,” Crow solemnly said. “Can you get me something to wear?”

Joel dropped the blanket back over Crow’s face as he tried to process what he’d just seen. He saw a human face instead of Crow’s. Whatever the mads did, they did the impossible.

Joel wasted no time in running back to his room for a spare jumpsuit. He took out a brown jumpsuit that brought him back to when Dr. Edheart was still around and Tom had his first voice. It wasn’t much, but he was sure it would fit Crow. How did the Mads even manage it?! They’d changed Crow’s entire molecular and anatomical makeup! 

For now though, Joel tried to suppress his rage. Crow needed him. Save that rage for the mads.

In a flash, he ran back to Crow’s room. He opened the door and tossed the jumpsuit in. 

“What’s gonna happen to Crow?” Tom asked as Joel shut the door. 

“He’s going to have to adjust until we can fix this.” Joel said, storming to the front of the ship after scooping up Tom.

Even though he didn’t really want to call, Joel touched the call mads button. He wanted answers. Now. He saw his bosses sitting down and eating dinner as if they haven’t commited something as dire as using one of his robots as a test subject for an invention.

“Excuse me, Sirs? What did you do to Crow? He’s a human.”

“So what? The teleportation experiment was a success!” Dr Forrester proudly said.

“Experiment! Is that what you care about?!”Joel bellowed. 

Joel could see Dr Forrester and TV’s Frank look shocked,he couldn’t remember a time when he really yelled at them. It was always polite to treat your superiors nicely, even if one of them did shoot you into space with no intention of getting you down.

But this? This was something else.

They’d hurt one of his bots.

The gloves were off.

“Cambot? Can you stop recording please?” Joel said with a hint of anger. The bot obliged, it’s red dot turning off.

“What did we do wrong? We just borrowed one of your robots for a bit.” TV’s Frank said.

Joel clenched his fist. Gosh darn it he almost wanted to punch him! Tv’s Frank knew what he did wrong! They both knew what they did! Playing dumb wasn't going to get them far! 

“You two know exactly what you did! He’s completely scared out of his wits because of it!” Joel seethed. 

“Well umm you see there might’ve been some human DNA in the teleporter.” Dr Forrester nervously said.

“You mean he got mixed with human DNA? How is that even possible when he didn’t have any human DNA to begin with?!”

“Joel?” Crow asked. The jumpsuit was big enough on Crow that the sleeves hid his hands. He was wearing a cream coloured scarf that he knitted as a Christmas gift for Joel. His golden eyes staring up at Joel. He bounced up and down impatiently and had an impatient pout.  

“Look what you did to him. Besides, wouldn't people start asking questions if there’s suddenly two humans on the SOL?” Joel said, gesturing to Crow.

“Ehh I was hoping he’d look more like me…” Forrester muttered. He quickly went quiet once Joel glared at him. 

“Fine, we’ll fix it, but you have to go through another movie. Mark my words Robinson, it will be a doozy. Apparently, we can’t air the Son of Godzilla episode due to ‘rights’,” Dr. Forrester said.

“We can handle whatever you throw at us,” Joel said, his eyes narrowing. “We’ve survived slime people and mad monsters, rock climbing and sidehacking, pod people and Ator. We have survived it all.”

“Yeah! Bring it on!” Crow said before covering his mouth and slinking out of the picture in embarrassment, his cheeks burning red.

TV’s Frank whispered in Dr Forrester’s ear. A sinister smirk crawled onto both of their faces.

“Frank, that is the perfect bit of schlock to break them with. Ta ta Joel.”

Then the screen flickered off.

Great

Now, where did Crow go off to again?

—

Crow looked in the mirror and touched his reflection, he was going to get used to this huh?

If Crow had to be honest, he looks great! The gold eyes really make it pop! 

But now he was of flesh and bone. He had to… Crow tensed up at the sound of the door opening, he wanted to bury himself into the covers again because of how hideous he was, he dug himself under the blankets and waited for the words. What was this? Why did he think one moment he was hot shit and the next the most terrifying thing to walk this satellite? Crow shuddered as footsteps approached his bed.

“I knew I would find you in here.”

Crow poked his head back out of the blankets to see Joel.

“H-hey J-J-joel..sorry…”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You’ve got us.”

“...Even though I’m all fleshy and gross now?”

“Crow, the mads are working on a way to make you a robot again,” Joel said. 

“Do you think they can actually do it?

“I’m sure they can Crow. Besides, if TV’s Frank can come back every time he’s killed, I’m sure Dr. Forrester can make you a robot again. Until then, I will have to teach you things such as brushing teeth and hair.” Joel smiled.

Crow shook at the thought of trying out human stuff. He watched Joel do human things before and that didn’t look appealing.

“Do I really have to learn, I’ll be back to normal soon.”

”It might take a week, it might take a month, i want to be sure you don't mess up until that day comes.”

Crow somehow felt reassured by that, he wanted to say a snarky comment like his programming dictated but wait, he wasn’t a robot anymore, he was a human, humans don’t have programming that gave them impeccable comedic timing or what not. Oh no.

What if he never became a robot again? What were these thoughts?! He didn’t like this! He didn’t want to be a human forever. 

Crow could feels something wellup on his face, he raised his hand to touch the wetness that formed on his face. 

Tears.

(Yeah it’s pretty big, like dear god that’s a lot)

[lmtyl]

Story Time Double Feature:

The Divorce of My Least Favorite Aunt

When I was a baby, my dad's brother (let's call him Uncle F) eloped with who we'll call Aunt L.  They adopted two kids, not at the same time; I've referred to them as my Little Cousins here in the past.

Aunt L and Uncle F ended up being holier-than-thou parents, always lecturing the Sibling and me about the evils of watching TV and eating junk food, ignoring that they'd been letting their son play Call of Duty since he was 6.  An Xbox update accidentally removed the parental controls and my cousin spent about $300 on skins and loot boxes before his parents noticed.  Boy is ten years younger than me, and he's totalled twice as many cars as I've owned.

I struggled with anxiety and depression and Aunt L had a way of giving me "pep talks" that, in hindsight, were awful, along the lines of, "you need to stop taking medications and control your brain yourself."  Ugh.

Anyway, Aunt L had been studying Naturopathy, and finally got her doctorate, at which point she declared to Uncle F that they were divorcing and she was getting back together with her college boyfriend from waaaay back in undergrad.  Like, bitch didn't even get established with an office, just got her diploma and peaced out.

For like two or three months.

But cost of living in their metro area is fucking ridiculous, and she came back begging to forget the whole thing and keep being married.  Uh, no.  That's not how that works.

Anyway, she moved to live in a shipping container house in Hawai'i and set up shop as a Naturopathic Oncologist (read: sell snake oil to cancer patients).  After a year or two, when the kids were mid-teens, they all sat down to discuss custody.  Aunt L proposed that she get 100% custody of the daughter and Uncle F get 100% custody of their son, Parent Trap style; she was caught completely off-guard when the kids clung to each other and declared "Hell no!"

Last I heard about her, Aunt L's house unfortunately narrowly avoided the wildfire that ravaged the island of Maui.

Vanilla Extract

My dad's been travelling to Madagascar for years; he mostly lives there now.  It started with him tagging along with a friend's film crew, making indie documentaries on traditional medicinal plants.

On one of those first trips, he brought back a whole freaking pound of vanilla beans in one big vacuum-sealed bundle.  Even through multiple layers of plastic, these things are FRAGRANT.

So, I'm a teenager at the time, so please excuse what I did: I went and got the vanilla off the shelf and, holding the bag up against my face, inhaled deeply.

It.  Burned.

So bad.

And I couldn't smell a damn thing for the next two days.

A large portion of that vanilla ended up soaking in a bottle of Everclear in the kitchen cabinet for years; home-made vanilla extract.  My "secret ingredient" whenever I made cookies.

That's it.  That's the vanilla story.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Extraterrestrial chemistry with earthbound possibilities

Who are we? Why are we here? As the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song suggests, we are stardust, the result of chemistry occurring throughout vast clouds of interstellar gas and dust. To better understand how that chemistry could create prebiotic molecules — the seeds of life on Earth and possibly elsewhere — researchers investigated the role of low-energy electrons created as cosmic radiation traverses through ice particles. Their findings may also inform medical and environmental applications on our home planet.

Undergraduate student Kennedy Barnes will present the team’s results at the fall meeting of the American Chemical Society (ACS). ACS Fall 2024 is a hybrid meeting being held virtually and in person Aug. 18-22; it features about 10,000 presentations on a range of science topics. 

“The first detection of molecules in space was made by Wellesley College alum Annie Jump Cannon more than a hundred years ago,” says Barnes, who, with fellow undergraduate Rong Wu, led this study at Wellesley, mentored by chemistry professor Christopher Arumainayagam and physics professor James Battat. Since Cannon’s discovery, scientists have been interested in finding out how extraterrestrial molecules form. “Our goal is to explore the relative importance of low-energy electrons versus photons in instigating the chemical reactions responsible for the extraterrestrial synthesis of these prebiotic molecules,” Barnes explains.

The few studies that previously probed this question suggested that both electrons and photons can catalyze the same reactions. Studies by Barnes and colleagues, however, hint that the prebiotic molecule yield from low-energy electrons and photons could be significantly different in space. “Our calculations suggest that the number of cosmic-ray-induced electrons within cosmic ice could be much greater than the number of photons striking the ice,” Barnes explains. “Therefore, electrons likely play a more significant role than photons in the extraterrestrial synthesis of prebiotic molecules.”

Aside from cosmic ice, her research into low-energy electrons and radiation chemistry also has potential applications on Earth. Barnes and colleagues recently studied the radiolysis of water, finding evidence of electron-stimulated release of hydrogen peroxide and hydroperoxyl radicals, which destroy stratospheric ozone and act as damaging reactive oxygen species in cells.

“A lot of our water radiolysis research findings could be used in medical applications and medical simulations,” Barnes shares, offering the example of using high-energy radiation to treat cancer. “I once had a biochemistry professor say that humans are basically bags of water. So, other scientists are investigating how low-energy electrons produced in water affect our DNA molecules.”

She also says the team’s findings are applicable to environmental remediation efforts where wastewater is being treated with high-energy radiation, which produces large numbers of low-energy electrons that are assumed to be responsible for the destruction of hazardous chemicals.

Back to space chemistry, in attempting to better understand prebiotic molecule synthesis, the researchers didn’t limit their efforts to mathematical modeling; they also tested their hypothesis by mimicking the conditions of space in the lab. They use an ultrahigh-vacuum chamber containing an ultrapure copper substrate that they can cool to ultralow temperatures, along with an electron gun that produces low-energy electrons and a laser-driven plasma lamp that produces low-energy photons. The scientists then bombard nanoscale ice films with electrons or photons to see what molecules are produced.

“Although we have previously focused on how this research is applicable to interstellar submicron ice particles, it is also relevant to cosmic ice on a much larger scale, like that of Jupiter’s moon Europa, which has a 20-mile-thick ice shell,” says Barnes.

Thus, she suggests their research will help astronomers understand data from space exploration missions such as NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope as well as the Europa Clipper, initially expected to launch in October 2024. Barnes hopes that their findings will inspire other researchers to incorporate low-energy electrons into their astrochemistry models that simulate what happens within cosmic ices.

Barnes and colleagues are also varying the molecular composition of ice films and exploring atom addition reactions to see if low-energy electrons can produce other prebiotic chemistries. This work is being performed in collaboration with researchers at the Laboratory for the Study of Radiation and Matter in Astrophysics and Atmospheres in France.

“There’s a lot that we're on the cusp of learning, which I think is really exciting and interesting,” says Barnes, touting what she describes as a new Space Age.

IMAGE: Researchers simulate the conditions of interstellar space with this ultrahigh-vacuum, low-temperature chamber containing an electron source to recreate the seeds of life. Credit Kennedy Barnes