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carionto · 9 months

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Ignition

Once the Galactic Coalition had (without other realistic options) given Humanity an equal position among the governing bodies, despite the fact they were a single planet race, the initial dread of what they would do eased. A little. When they showed how they powered their impossibly massive vessels, the fears of our ancestors who deemed the Responsibility Barrier a necessity reemerged a thousandfold.

The Humans, with a slight grin, said "Solar power, of course."

They took a delegation within the bowels of one of their smaller, civilian research craft, which was still bulkier, better armored, and more worryingly - better armed than most flagships of the other predator-races. Were we not able to see with our own eyes their actual, what they aptly call, Dreadnoughts, from distances you would normally need a telescope, we would have assumed this was their mightiest warship. Yet it was just one of hundreds.

As we passed through the ludicrously thick and seemingly excessive number of bulkheads and shielded and compartmentalized hallways, the ever present hum of raw power beneath our feet gradually became nerve-wracking. What is that? It reminded us of stories told by those who traveled near Black Holes - of the sheer vastness and infinite apathy they felt from the all consuming entities.

A dozen or so biometric gates later, we were greeted by a gigantic sphere, easily a hundred and fifty meters in diameter, an abomination of reinforced panels, wiring, heat pumps, and countless tubes, hanging from numerous power conduits in the middle of an even more massive chamber from behind our observation platform. A true, pure fusion reactor. And there were Humans, in full protective suits at least, working directly next to it within the ominous chamber.

"We wanted to give you a demonstration of our advances in the past millennia, so please observe as we turn on this one."

This one? As in... the power we were feeling was not from this monstrosity? We had to ask.

"Oh, of course not, this ship has three such reactors, we recently performed a full maintenance on this and decided to delay reactivating it for you to see."

The delegates' mouths (or equivalents) were agape. Sure, nuclear fusion is known far and wide, but due to it's high potential for cataclysmic failure, or worse, deliberate destruction, the vast majority of such reactors were mostly found in deep space stations where solar radiation was scarce. Background radiation converters, while efficient at what they do, were nowhere sufficient enough for anything more than as passive emergency battery chargers. And no civilization kept fusion reactors anywhere near populated or colonizeable planets.

Yet here they were, looking at one nearly five times larger than any other known or attempted. And there were three on this ship alone. They counted hundreds of similar size, a few dozen of their Dreadnoughts, thousands of smaller vessels ferrying between the stations, the surface, and other larger ships. Countless world ending bombs-in-waiting right around the Humans' only home.

"Yeah, us science ships get the biggest ones, kinda need the extra oomph for our projects. The military kids like their redundancies, so theirs are smaller."

A slight relief.

"I think their newest capital ship, the UGSF Caliban of York, has fifteen, each about half ours."

A few delegates passed out. Their attendants rushed to salvage some dignity, but Captain Knoslark of this vessel, The Radiant Dusk at Everest, didn't seem surprised or offended and simply waited for the delegation to regain composure before continuing.

"This is my favorite part."

He said quietly with a glint in his eyes, then his tone changed to a more formal and authoritative one.

"Chief Engineer Ira Tameki, status of Reactor 2."

"All green, Captain. She's ready to purr to life at your command."

"Good. Then," his tone shifted once again, to a far more theatrical one as he took a pose, half turning his body and extending his right hand towards the reactor, index finger pointing dramatically. As he pronounced every syllable of the next word, there was a silent resigned sigh from his crew:

"ignition!"

Outwardly, nothing of significance changed. The engineers clicked at their consoles, bars slowly rose and everyone was deliberately doing their best to make it clear they were ignoring the fact that the captain was still in the same pose.

There was a muffled thump from the chamber, then the hum beneath their feet became a rumble for a few moments before steadying back to a now slightly more intense almost-buzz. Physically, nothing all that noteworthy. Mentally, everyone in the delegation was in true shock as they fully understood what they had just witnessed done all too casually:

The birth of a star.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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mindblowingscience · 3 months

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Evaporation is a natural process so ubiquitous that most of us take it for granted. In fact, roughly half of the solar energy that reaches the Earth drives evaporative processes. Since 2017, researchers have been working to harness the energy potential of evaporation via the hydrovoltaic (HV) effect, which allows electricity to be harvested when fluid is passed over the charged surface of a nanoscale device. Evaporation establishes a continuous flow within nanochannels inside these devices, which act as passive pumping mechanisms. This effect is also seen in the microcapillaries of plants, where water transport occurs thanks to a combination of capillary pressure and natural evaporation.

#Science #Nanotechnology #Nanophysics #Energy #Evaporation #Hydrovoltaic Effect #Water

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dailyoverview · 1 year

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Evaporation ponds are seen at the Intrepid Potash Mines near Carlsbad, New Mexico, USA. These mines produce muriate of potash and sulfate of potash magnesium, two mineral salts used in fertilizer. Salt is dried in these massive solar ponds after being pumped to the surface from underground brines. Water in the ponds is dyed with vibrant colors to reduce the time it takes for potash to crystallize — darker water absorbs more sunlight, causing it to evaporate more quickly.

32.510823°, -103.955313°

Source imagery: Maxar

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allsaiint · 1 year

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↠ doom slayer/reader

↠ word count: 3200

↠ masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

↠ description: while you had heard tales of the doom slayer's unrelenting rage and power, it was a different story when you witnessed it first hand.

↠ warnings: gratuitous butchering of canon | reader has physcial description for specific plot reasons but is otherwise neutral | feminine pronouns | descriptions of blood, gore, and violence | slayer finally doesn't try to shoot you... though he does threaten to

↠ author’s notes: more or less just a filler chapter to get to the next arc. reminder, as if the warnings aren't enough (sometimes they aren't) that i am dismantling canon bc i can and bc it fits the idea better. if two warnings aren't enough for you, you're a lost cause. as always, an ao3 link is on the masterlist. in reference to the chapter title: yes, yes i had to.

“What,” you groaned once you had picked yourself up off of the floor, “the fuck was that?”

That being the flashes of Hell that had been forced into your brain when the slayer unlocked the Helix Stone from its confinement. It had been confusing at best, full of flickering red flames and sandstone and, most prominent, the hilt of a large sword made of bone. Its eyes had been alive with the fires of Hell, if one was feeling poetic. You were not, truth be told.

It was Hayden that answered, though you got the sense it was more out of convenience than an actual interest in giving you one. His excitement was a little too palpable when he said, “The Crucible. That’s what Olivia was after. Vega, do you have the location?”

“I do, Dr. Hayden. Transmitting now. The signal is showing it to be in the Great Steppe— the Titan’s realm. You will need another Argent Accumulator, however, and the only one left in this sector is in Specimen CD597.”

“Woah, woah, wait,” you said, throwing your hands up. The instant that the A.I. listed the numbers, cold anxiety spilled down your spine. “Specimen CF597? The Cyberdemon?”

An Argent Accumulator was a cylinder made of a heat resistant alloy mined from another planet outside of the solar system. Inside of it was a refined version of something known as Argent Energy, which the facility pumped from the Argent Fracture. While the UAC told humanity that Argent Energy was just plasma found beneath the surface of Mars, the truth was much darker. Argent Plasma, before it became energy, was the source of power that kept the Hell realm functioning. No one had yet discovered how it was made— or at least, no one had informed you. You only learned of it after having been reassigned to the Lazarus Complex, and the knowledge had rocked not once, but twice now that the memory resurfaced thanks to Vega.

The Argent Accumulator that Vega was specifically referring to was in the chest of the biggest, most volatile demon in containment on the entire planet. During the Second Manned Lazarus Expedition into the Great Steppe, the teams came upon the petrified remains of a massive Titan that later research revealed to be an ancient Baalgar demon. Corrax tablets— the name given to the written history of the demons by the demons— suggested that the Baalgar demons were once Shadow Lords, a high rank amongst demonic ‘nobles’.

Upon being brought back, experiments began on the remains. It was soon discovered that, upon exposing them to small doses of Argent Energy, the flesh would respond and grow. From what you knew, the scientists began to meld cybernetic technology into the slowly regrowing demon. You were unsure of the finer technicalities behind it, but somehow— and for some reason— they gave the demon the ability to control the Argent Accumulator they implanted in its chest. This gave it the ability to administer Argent Energy to itself as needed but, as expected, they lost control of it. When they allowed it to awaken, it went on a rampage in the lower sector, and they were forced to contain it in holding cell 6— the only one large enough and strong enough to contain it.

“That is correct,” Vega answered as the slayer pulled you along behind him. “I have uploaded its coordinates to you.”

“Once you have extracted the accumulator, it should become unstable enough to send you back to their world.” That was Hayden, who sounded unconcerned by any and all of what they had just found out. “We can control your point of entry with the tether system in your suit, and extract you once you have retrieved the Crucible. I must insist, however, that you leave her out of it—”

Whatever other objections he had were cut off by the obnoxious klaxon of the warning system. A too calm female voice came over the intercom, announcing that a lockdown was in effect due to an extremely high demonic presence, which preceded the actual appearance of the demons by milliseconds.

Figuring that it was as good a time as any to make yourself scarce, you ducked the volley of fireballs cast by Imps in your, but more specifically the slayer’s, direction. Slipping and sliding on their entrails as he cleaned house with nothing but a shotgun, you threw yourself into the relative safety of an overhang, tucking into a corner made by the wall and the staircase.

The Imps, you came to learn, were just the appetizer, keeping the slayer occupied until the larger demons could make their way through portals. At first it was a handful of Hell Knights, their thunderous steps overpowering the rapid fire of the heavy assault rifle the slayer utilized against them. The cacophony would have been aggravating to begin with, but coupled with the fact that you were overwhelmed by— just about everything, it was all you could do to watch the devastation unfold.

You shrieked when the obliterated pieces of a Hell Knight corpse splattered to the floor from over the railing, following on the heels of an electrical warping sound. The slayer himself appeared right after, and the impact of 350 lbs of metal clad man on a metal floor was thunderously deafening. Your head, already spinning from the chaos happening, positively vibrated when he landed. The entire room swirled, the lights of Argent Energy and Plasma and fireballs and bullets all spiralling into one another until you were unable to tell where any of it began or ended.

When the Mancubus demons showed up next, you knew right away. The putrid stench they carried with them, whether it was their own rotting flesh or that of their consumed victims, was recognizable from miles away. Being so close forced you to lean over to dry heave for the second time in less than four hours. There was nothing left, not even bile to come up, but that never stopped your stomach from trying. The smell only grew worse when the slayer took the first one down. You had the luck of witnessing it explode first hand with a well aimed shot from the Gauss Cannon. The superheated plasma tore through the poor stitching that held its stomach together. The flesh inside ignited, dousing the slayer and the surrounding demons in a layer of its acidic bile. While the armor he wore was untouched, the Imps that had the unfortunate pleasure of being covered began to melt almost right away. The same would have happened to you if you had hid anywhere besides under the balcony overhand, but you watched it splatter at your feet to eat holes in the thin metal.

Without skipping a beat, a second Mancubus fired at the slayer from the floor above. The blast sent the slayer sliding back on his heels, through the thick soup of blood and viscera that coated the floor. It rolled down his armor, mixing with the vile concoction that made up the Mancubus’s weapon. Your shriek was drowned out by the powerful explosion that followed, caused by the slayer launching up to the second floor, drawing too close to the Mancubus. The room lit up with orange and a sound like a flamethrower before the slayer reappeared. Where he hit the railing sent him cartwheeling down but you, in spite of your near sheer terror, found yourself impressed that he still managed to land on his feet. As if he had meant to do it, the Gauss Cannon withdrew and a third explosion rent the air. Innards and viscera and unnameable other gunk rained down, adding to the puddles already on the floor.

It had grown so thick that it began to seep towards you and, faced with the choice of being eaten through with acid or traipsing through the mess, you scrambled to your feet and picked your way around the portions of flooring that had been eaten through.

“Damn, but you are terrifying,” you said upon reaching the slayer. The level of carnage he had left in the Archive Room was on par with the mess the cultists had left in the rest of the complex. Splatters reached all the way to the ceiling and had coated the Helix Stone so thoroughly it was reduced to illegibility. It was impressive.

In response, the slayer grunted. With the muzzle of his still hot shotgun, he nudged you in the back, indicating you walk ahead of him. A staircase was opening around the stone’s display case but, at the top, you came to a stop.

“Woah, woah, wait, I just remembered something,” you said, throwing your hands out to rebalance where the slayer had almost knocked you down them anyway. “Did you find the weapons development lab?”

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you found yourself jerked around. The slayer was glaring at you , eyes narrowed, before they cut to his shotgun.

“If I may,” Vega said, attempting at delicacy, “I believe he means, Why do you ask? As far as we have discovered, he is incapable of speech.”

You clicked your tongue. “I ask because, if you’re going to face the Cyberdemon then dive into Hell, and insist on dragging me along, then I would like to give me the best odds of escaping again. Vega, the BFG is still in containment, right?”

The A.I. made a noise of understanding. “Most prudent. It is indeed still in the development lab in the Advanced Research Complex.”

“All the way upstairs,” you murmured, cupping your chin. “What’s the status of the tram topside?”

“All power has been diverted from non-essentials. The tram is one of them. I can divert power from the elevators, but you will need a clearance keycard—”

“Vega, please, remember who you’re talking to. Bypassing the system would be much faster than looking for whatever shambling corpse has the damn card.” You paused to scan the slayer up and down. “I know you don’t trust me because I look like a demon, but I really do just want to help. Do you want to go up and get this gun or carry on? The longer the portal is open, the harder it’ll be to close, but I’ve heard horror stories about what’s in the Steppe. It might be worth backtracking.”

You could see his eyes narrow in what you assumed to be suspicion, but his desire for a really big fucking gun was evidently stronger than his baser instincts. With the shotgun, he motioned you onward, back towards the elevator. It was a short, silent, and awkward ride back up. If only you had had elevator music to complete the picture, it would have been perfect.

“It will take me a moment to reroute power,” Vega said once the doors had opened. “The lights will dim, but do not be alarmed.”

The platform was still empty where the slayer had obliterated the demons earlier. Their bodies had been transported back to Hell upon death, but evidence of the battle remained— bloodied bodies and chunks, the blackened evidence of missile strikes on the walls, and the broken door that the slayer had entered the room through that was now demolished in its entirety. He was the true definition of a one man army, and it made you take a closer look at his suit.

“Dr. Hayden’s given you access to the Argent Cells, hasn’t he?”

The slayer turned to you, shoulders stiffening beneath his armor. Considering his hatred for demons, you found it a tad hypocritical that he was using energy mined from Hell to power himself up. Then again, perhaps it was a sort of poetic justice. Regardless and considering you liked your head where it was at, you were keeping any and all opinions to yourself.

Well, except for one.

“It also looks like Dr. Hayden added slots like the Elite Guards have in their armor,” you said, circling around the slayer’s back. “Chips are for security alerts per complex, mostly. They contain maps too, though, and the locations for weapons caches— pretty much in case something like this ever happened. Hey, Vega, how much longer?”

“Still a few minutes more.”

When you beckoned to the slayer after that, you expected more resistance than you got. There was still a healthy amount of suspicion, as evidenced by the way he pointed the shotgun at you before falling into step behind. The doors still hissed in a half-hearted attempt at closing, but the slayer had damaged the hydraulics so thoroughly that electrical sparks showered you as you passed through.

You led him back up to the laboratory, where the four Mancubus demons that had previously occupied the tables now lay in scattered but no less revolting pieces. In the grand scheme of things, you were happier to be sidestepping a few smelly chunks than skirting around full and lumbering demons.

Just up the steps was a lone table, propped up like it had been holding the Mancubus as a museum exhibit. There was just enough space for the slayer to slip between the table and the railing for the left hand staircase, following you into an unobtrusive alcove.

“A lot of caches are hidden like this,” you said, pressing on one of the decorative panels in the wall. It popped out and rotated to reveal a code panel, into which you put your own identification number. No one but guards, the head engineers, and the lead scientists were allowed access to them, mostly because no one else had need for what ammunition was hidden inside. The panel disappeared and the wall slid in with a pressurized hiss, then up into the ceiling. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Just inside the door, propped against a crate, was one of the Elite Guards. The pool of blood around him had long since dried, and in his hand was a stun baton. As if that would do any good against anything more than a Possessed.

The slayer moved past you while you crouched, and while you patted at the guard’s vest you heard the clatter of metal on metal. With your fingers pinching the chip, you looked up to find that he had broken the lock off of a crate full of shotgun ammo. Into one of the numerous metal supply pouches that adorned his armor went handfuls of shells, stacked neatly within reach. Next, as you yanked the chip from its slot, the lock on the crate for missiles for the rocket launcher was broken. Those were locked into the belt on his back, a dozen or so along with some mini-missiles off of his hip.

“Here,” you said, holding the chip out to show him. “I don’t know what this one will give you, if you want me to plug it in. Vega might be able to locate more using the signals, but—”

“I am afraid not. The signals have been corrupted by the Hell Portal’s opening,” the A.I. responded. “You may be able to access them via a security data terminal.”

The slayer handed the chip back to you and, in spite of what you guessed was his better judgement, knelt down so you could reach the designated spot. It was a perfect fit, and the slayer pressed a few buttons on his arm guard before standing. He turned then and stepped into your personal space. Unsure of what to make of it considering everything else so far, you put your hands up as a useless barrier between you, and took a step back.

“Two pieces of good news,” Vega said, startling you. The slayer had just reached out with one massive hand, up towards your banded horns, but it dropped at the sound of the A.I.’s voice. “One, I have successfully rerouted power to the tram. You need only make it to the lab and back to the tram once you have collected the weapon. Two, the chip you have has the locations of all of the weapons caches within the facility.”

“There’s a security terminal up in the ARC too, in the same area as the BFG,” you said, dragging your thumb across your lip. “In theory, there might be a guard up there as well, considering how important that lab is. Also in theory, if I can find a blank chip or a chip that proves useless to us, I can reprogram it to bounce back the signals from the others.”

“Well, whatever you decide to do, you must hurry. The longer the portal is open—”

“Yeah, well, it won’t do us any good if this guy dies before closing it, so the few extra minutes it’ll take to get the gun should prove worth it, especially against the Cyberdemon— or god forbid we meet a Titan.” You paused, narrowing your eyes at the slayer, who was rummaging through a crate full of grenades. “Remind me why I have to go with you?”

It was Vega that answered, of course, saying, “I believe he distrusts leaving you unguarded. It is fair reasoning, given we do not know how the transformation might effect you the longer it goes on.”

That logic was hard to refute, even if you still disliked it. Then again, who would like being dragged into the depths of hell by a man who was somehow twice as likely to tear their head off as literal demons were? You knew how you felt when you woke up, which had been confused but still human. Even terrified by the slayer and all of the demons, you had never stopped feeling human. Only looking down at your hands reminded you of your new appearance, or when wisps of your white hair fell loose from the tie holding it back. On those occasions, you would push it back with your fingers only to be stymied by the horns twisting up from the center of your skull.

You returned to the platform to find the tram ready and waiting with the doors open. The slayer stood silent sentry, shotgun propped on his arm while you fiddled with wires and pressed buttons. You could appreciate that he was putting some faith into you and had listened to your suggestions and followed your advice so far. At least this time there was no direct warning, with the barrel of the gun pointing towards the window instead of at your back.

The power went off with a barely audible click but, before the slayer could begin to think you had betrayed him, it came on once more and the doors began to close. Pressing one last button to get the tram moving, you turned to him and lifted a shoulder.

“Vega rerouted the power, but I had to reroute power away from the key pass in the panel,” you explained, tapping the glass. “Meant turning it off for a sec.”

The slayer stood still for a moment, silent as ever, then grunted.

You supposed, considering Vega failed to elucidate, it was a good sign.

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#doom slayer x reader #doom guy x reader #doomguy x reader #doomslayer x reader #doom (2016)#doom 2016 #tw blood #tw gore #tw violence

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 16 days

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One of the Largest Batteries in the World

This reservoir holds more than just water. Set on a bluff hundreds of feet above Lake Michigan, it also stores potential energy that can be unleashed to produce hydropower. This human-built lake is part of the Ludington Pumped Storage Plant, a pumped storage hydropower facility that can be likened to a giant battery—one that moves water instead of electrons.

In place of complex chemistry, this battery employs simple physics. Surplus electricity from the grid is used to pump water 370 vertical feet (110 meters) from Lake Michigan to an upper reservoir, shown here. At times of higher energy demand, water flows back down, turning the pump-turbines in the opposite direction to generate hydropower. This image of the facility and reservoir was acquired by the OLI (Operational Land Imager) on the Landsat 8 satellite on March 3, 2024.

The Ludington Pumped Storage Plant began operating in 1973, making it essentially a battery that still works after 50 years. Its upper reservoir measures approximately 2.5 miles (4 kilometers) long and 1 mile (1.6 kilometers) wide, occupying 842 acres. Two jetties and a breakwater protect the intake and outflow channel from the waves and currents of Lake Michigan, and a barrier is installed from April through October, when ice conditions permit, to keep fish away from the intake.

Water rushes through six pump-turbines concealed from view within a powerhouse. Each unit raises or lowers the reservoir’s water surface about 1 foot per hour during normal operation, according to Consumers Energy, co-owner of the facility. At full capacity, the plant can power about 1.7 million households.

Michigan’s electricity comes largely from fossil fuel-fired power stations and nuclear plants. With these relatively constant sources, the Ludington plant tends to pump overnight when customer demand on the grid is low, then switch to hydropower mode during the day until its usable capacity is exhausted.

That schedule could shift as more renewable energy sources come online in the region. The Ludington plant may adapt to solar, for example, by recharging during the middle of the day and then discharging in the evening when demand increases, analysts posit. Utility-scale energy storage is critical to the wider adoption of solar and wind power; it enables these intermittent sources to be used when sunlight or wind are lacking and reduces the need for back-up fossil fuel-fired plants.

The United States may need to add hundreds of gigawatts of storage by 2050 to achieve its clean energy goals, according to the Department of Energy, and it has the potential to at least double the amount of pumped storage capacity. In 2022, 43 pumped storage hydropower plants accounted for 96 percent of U.S. utility-scale energy storage capacity, although new battery storage installations surged in 2020–2022. Most pumped storage facilities in the U.S. were built between 1960 and 1990, and some, including Ludington, have been upgraded in recent years to increase their capacity and incorporate renewable energy sources.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Story by Lindsey Doermann.

#science #space #news #nasa #earth observatory

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magnificenttaleland · 1 year

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Shakti Pumps has always been a pioneer in state of art technology which has newly designed its Solar Pumps sets based on its signature fabricated technology for the best discharge and value for money.

#Shakti solar pumps USA #solar on grid system #solar pumps #solar rooftop system #solar submersible pumps #solar surface pumps #solar water pumps

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mostly-marvel-musings · 2 years

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Adrenaline

A/N: Here we go. My first Matt Murdock fic, born out of a recent crazy, crazy car ride. Hope y’all like it! Feedback is everything :)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, mention of blood?

Word count: 1.5k

Marvel Masterlist

There was an unmistakable tinge of metal in the air, mixed with the smell of mud and rain as Matt swiftly moved through the dark lanes of Hell’s Kitchen.

All of his senses were focused on a rapid heartbeat he had picked up coming from one of the alleys, the soft cries of a little girl surrounded with a couple of steady, pulsing ones of men attempting to capture the child.

As silent as physically possible, he crept up behind the men, tapping him on his shoulder and waiting for him to turn around before knocking him in his solar plexus.

Once the man was doubled over in pain, Matt struck a heavy blow to the back of his head, enough to render him unconscious.

They weren’t even trying, Matt thought.

Rapid footsteps that splashed water came towards him, a smirk appeared on his lips as the second man drew out a weapon.

Finally.

He heard the kid scramble back into a corner, away from danger but quaking with fear, watching the fight ensue.

…

The line went dead after ringing persistently for the fourth time now.

No answer.

But it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Not when you were dating a lawyer by day, vigilante by night, Matt Murdock.

Frowning to yourself, you threw your phone and purse in the passenger seat and got in your car, driving with one inducement, to find what in the world your boyfriend was upto.

As you turned the corner to where his building was, the silence of the night was broken by a gunshot piercing through the air, a pit forming in your stomach as your wide eyes searched around for the source.

Your heart nearly leapt out of your ribcage when a body smacked against the car bonnet with a sickening thud before hitting the ground.

Slamming the brakes, with trembled fingers you were about to get out when the passenger door opened and in got Matt Murdock - eyes covered by a dark cloth, few scratches and a bloody lip.

“Drive.”

He ordered urgently, tilting his head for signs of other potential threats following him. Calling out your name he snapped you out of your reverie and asked you to start the car back up and drive out of there.

“Are we being followed?”

You whispered, trying your best to focus on the road as you sped up, your voice shaking with fear while your knuckles turned white as you gripped the steering wheel tight.

“Yes.”

“How in the—and who was that guy I nearly ran over?”

“An asshole. Don’t worry about him.”

Matt’s curt replies made you glance at him as the street lamps danced over his face as you passed, the blood from the cuts and bruises gleaming in the warm, golden yellow light.

There was a vehicle following yours but quite far behind as Matt’s ears picked up the faint sounds of the engine revving and the tyres screeching over the surface of the road, slowly becoming distant.

“And are you okay?”

Your foot pressed down on the gas as Matt’s hand found your thigh to give a reassuring squeeze, his lips upturned in a small smile or a smirk, you couldn’t tell much except the fact that he wasn’t injured as much.

He touched your hand to make you relax your iron grip on the wheel, blood rushing back to the tips of your fingers and knuckles as you loosened it and let out a shuddered breath.

Your heart was still beating a million miles a minute, Matt could hear it hammer against your ribcage as you took breaths in and out, shallower than normal as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

He could smell it, sweat, epinephrine and…arousal?

Definitely was.

Bringing his hand down to your thigh once more, Matt gave it a squeeze, this time letting it linger there.

“They’re gone.”

“Well thank fuck!”

You sighed, relaxing against the backrest for the first time that night, smiling a little as you heard Matt chuckle.

You ignored the shiver that ran down your spine when Matt’s fingers trailed up your arm, over your collarbone to the nape of your neck to caress your warmed skin.

Life threatening danger aside, there was a sense of thrill, you had to admit.

Shifting in your seat, you pressed your thighs together and did your best to focus on the road as you felt goose pimples litter across your skin reacting to Matt’s gentle but purposeful touches along your neck.

“Exciting huh?” He murmured, shifting significantly closer, enough for his hot breath to fan your cheek.

“What?”

“The chase…the adrenaline, it’s arousing for you, isn’t it?”

He could hear your pulse racing, courtesy his words,and proximity, your skin reacting pleasingly to his caresses.

Before you could deny the truth, you heard Matt lower his head and sniff, his other hand sneaking between your legs to palm your clothed core.

“I can smell you, sweetheart.”

He purred, his voice unfurling desire deep within causing you to whimper meekly.

Pleased with himself, Matt smirked as your hips moved to gain more contact against his hand.

Boldly, his hand sneaked past the top of your jeans, his cold fingers contrast against your flushed skin. The fabric of your panties felt like an unnecessary barrier as he felt the moistness of your arousal, purring in agreement.

“Matt…” you warned, your voice coming out softer than intended.

“Pull over. Now.”

Matt’s low growl only added fuel to the fire that burned deep within you, a deft finger slid your panties to one side to gather the slick between your folds.

You didn’t need to face him to know his smirk had grown deeper as his finger intruded your entrance and a little whine left your lips.

“Here.”

Matt tilted his head towards the right.

Rounding the corner in a hurry, you found a deserted alley and cut the engine there and wasted no time in climbing over Matt’s lap.

He grinned against your lips as you slanted your lips over his in a fervent kiss, tasting Matt’s familiar warmth with a tinge of blood.

In a flurry of movements, your sweater was pulled over your head and discarded, Matt’s body-hugging black henley following suit. Your fingers fumbled over unbuckling his pants and freeing his erection from its clothed restraints.

A needy moan left your lips when he palmed at your breasts, leaving open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck. You pushed the seat back as best as you could, hearing Matt chuckle against your skin as the car seat jammed and stopped at one place.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You shimmied out of your pants and pushed your panties aside, grinding against his length, revelling in the grunts that echoed from his chest.

Your fingers found purchase in his hair, tugging on them roughly as you swallowed Matt’s moans, slipping your tongue past his mouth to battle against his.

He dug his fingers to still your hips, lifting you enough to lower down on his length, sighing as your familiar warmth enveloped him.

Cursing under your breath, you felt his cock stretch your channel to the fullest, the dull stinging fading away as he bottomed out.

Touching your foreheads together, you stilled for a brief moment and cupped his face, gently peeling the fabric that covered his eyes back.

Matt’s eyes really were the most expressive even though they were denied sight, you always thought they were his best feature.

Carding your fingers through his soft, tousled hair, you gripped them at the nape of his neck, watching his mouth fall open as your hips rocked back and forth.

There was a low rumble that echoed through the clouds outside before the skies opened, the raindrops cascaded violently against the car’s metal surface.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

Matt murmured, pushing his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against your clit deliciously.

Your hands gripped the back of the car seat to steady yourself as he brought your closer to the edge, your body coming alive as every cell burned for more.

The thunderstorm outside swallowed your desperate cries and moans as you both chased your releases, the adrenaline from before fuelled the ardor.

Your pussy clenched around his length intently as the tip of his cock brushed and teased your spot, bringing you closer to the edge.

Sensing your undulated breathing and involuntary tightening of muscles, Matt spurred you on by increasing his pace.

He teased your bundle of nerves with his fingers roughly, causing you to lurch forward and hide your face in his neck.

Crying out his name desperately, you let go, walls fluttering around his girth as you felt your heartbeat down there, erratic and spasmodic. Your climax triggered his own as he stilled inside you, letting out a moan as he came.

You felt warmth spread along your body as you slowly came down from your high, sweat lining your forehead before you rolled down the car window to let the colder night air in.

“More car rides along bad neighborhoods?”

He laughed - a sound that made your heart soar every time you heard it, pressing a kiss into your hair and holding you close while stroking your back gently.

“Deal.”

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spidersvise · 2 years

Text

"WE CHOOSE TO GO TO THE MOON..."

What's wild to think about is the short amount of time between the Wright flyer at Kittyhawk and man walking on the moon.

1903-1969. Totally plausible for someone to have been alive for both. Rocketry as a science is a marvel. From Robert Goddard crashing the first liquid fueled rocket in his aunt's garden in 1926 to the F1 engine (five of them in the first stage) powering the Saturn V rocket with fuel pumps strong enough to empty an olympic sized swimming pool in 2.5 minutes.

And then the physics behind getting things up there in the first place. Orbit. Going from stationary on a launchpad to fast enough to orbit the earth every ~90 minutes. Dealing with atmospheric pressure and drag all the way up there. Every component needing to be meticulously engineered to keep the thing together the whole time. You've got a controlled explosion constantly going off behind you, it's gonna rattle the vehicle a bit. You even need baffles in the fuel tanks so that the sloshing fuel doesn't throw the balance off. Try balancing a bowl of water on your fingertip while walking down a hall.

Then there's a need for radios strong enough to transmit through the atmosphere, thousands of miles into space and back. Building antennas and relays to put in orbit to extend radio range. The math behind it. Making the electronics strong and resilient enough to survive vacuum, solar radiation, accumulating heat(there's not enough atmosphere for heat to adequately radiate the way it does on Earth, so you gotta get rid of the heat somehow)for years. Now you've got to learn docking.

Matching orbital velocities between you and your target. Learning it's not as simple as burning your engines while you're facing your target, but more like … both targets are in free fall and need to maneuver so that their trajectories match each other. Slowly. Carefully. Spacecraft need to be lightweight, so collisions, even small ones, can be catastrophic. Computer-controlled docking computers were not a thing. So they had to do it by hand. Using RCS thrusters to maneuver the craft to its target just right so the hatches connect strongly and airtight.

Put all of that together and you have the Apollo program. Launching a 110 meter rocket into space, flinging it at the moon, docking with the lander, sliding into orbit around the moon. Disconnecting the lander. Landing it with a very small fuel tank with no chance of rescue if something goes wrong. Realizing the landing site that was picked was actually rockier than it was supposed to be, while you're about to set down. Having mission control telling you you're almost out of fuel while you literally have to eyeball the landing. The computing power back then was miniscule. A calculator is more complicated than the computers that powered Apollo. Then the blessed touchdown in your tissue paper craft(if you drop a wrench while you're inside the lunar lander on Earth, it will literally punch a hole in the floor). Stepping out of the vehicle to mind-bending, magnificent desolation. Black sky. No stars. The sunlight off of the surface of the moon is too bright to allow starlight. Gray ultra fine 'soil' as far as the eye can see, pockmarked by eons of meteorite collisions older than life itself. Farther from home than anyone's ever been. Where no one's ever set foot.

And then. Leaving on the horse you rode in on. Doing the ballet of orbital rendezvous and docking again. Timing the burn of the engines to get you home. Hoping your math is right and you don't hit the atmosphere at too shallow an angle, skipping off of it like a stone on water. Or too steep, punching into it too fast for the heat shields and parachutes to handle. While you're burning through the atmosphere hoping no superheated gasses find a weak spot in your capsule to punch into, you can't even talk to mission control. The plasma fucks with comms too much so there are minutes of total silence where nobody knows if the other party is still alive. Then, if every single part of this crazy mission worked correctly and you're still alive, parachutes deploy. You hit the waters of the ocean. And wait for someone to pick you up.

That's not even mentioning Apollo 13. Where the command module suffered an explosion during flight, in a fuel tank that fucked their oxygen supply.

Spaceflight is, was, always will be, crazy. Foolhardy. Deadly. Exhilarating.

#spaceflight #apollo #artemis #nasa

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