scientist room

But science isn’t a stuffy old set of rules to be followed dogmatically. In fact, being anti-dogma is science’s “thing.” Science is a set of methods for determining what’s likely to be true based on what’s repeatable. If you can reliably predict an outcome, you’re doing science, baby. We didn’t stop reading tea leaves because they clashed with our new Bunsen burner set, we stopped reading them because they didn’t have reproducible effects.

If someone could wave a stick, say some words in pseudo-Latin, and levitate a book from across the room, scientists wouldn’t be all, “I refuse to believe the overwhelming evidence that this is very clearly true. Now let’s stop talking about it and grab those beakers so we can confirm things we already know.”

They would be the people most psyched about it. Generally, people don’t become scientists because they hope we never discover anything new. They dream of discovering something a millionth as interesting as a stupid spell that waters your plants while you’re on vacation. Any scientist worth their salt would kill for the chance to understand this somehow completely undiscovered force. Plus, they could win every single Nobel Prize for the next hundred years.

5 Ways Movies Keep Getting Scientists Wrong

anonymous asked:

Fluffy Grillster x Reader poly relationship headcannons?

Grillster + Reader Poly Relationship Headcanons:

- I hope you’re used to eating alone, because it happens quite often. With Grillby taking late night shifts in his establishment, & Gaster hardly ever surfacing from his lab, most of your day is pretty…quiet & uneventful, save for the sounds of explosions & such coming from said scientist’s room down the hall. It’s always late night when they do finally show up again, & even though they might have missed dinner itself, Gaster is always willing to share whatever leftovers Grillby brought back with him as a “midnight snack.”

- Neither of them are big on physical contact, or verbal affection, but they show how they love you in other ways. Special-made meals left for you in the microwave before Grillby leaves for his shift, post-it notes with little comments written on them leading down from Gaster’s door to the living room–granted, it’d still be nice to have them around more often, but for what they can do to try & make it up to you, they will.

- If you can manage to keep them both home for the day (& keep Gaster out of his lab), they’ll finally allow themselves to relax for a while. It’s a bit of a forced relaxation at the beginning, but it won’t take long for them to actually sink into the rest that they both really need, & then they’ll essentially be open to everything. You want to go out? Sure. You want to stay in? Even better. Whatever you want to do, they’ll want to do it too.

T’Challa can’t stand to see Bucky in cryro all alone. In the day, scientists fill the room, keeping it noisy and bright. But at night, the scientists leave, the lights are dimmed, the room silent.

And Bucky is all alone.

T’Challa can’t stand it. Because they aren’t HYDRA. Bucky wants this, whether T’Challa personally agrees with his decision or not. It wasn’t T’Challa’s to make. But T’Challa could make it a little better for Bucky, just maybe.

He begins to talk. Every evening as the lights darken and the scientists go away, in T’Challa goes. He grabs a chair and pulls it up close, eyeing Bucky’s face through the glass. It’s eerie really; like a cold Sleeping Beauty, suspended in ice.

Bucky looks calm in sleep. More comfortable than T’Challa had ever seen him in life. While awkward at first, it made him want to speak.

So he did.

T’Challa regaled Bucky with stories from his past. A jumbled mix of memories fell from his lips, as the days passed. This wasn’t a diary, chronological order far from his mind. He told Bucky what needed to be told, what T’Challa needed to say.

He played music. T’Challa had no idea what Bucky liked, so he just played music from his phone, telling Bucky what those songs made him think about.

T’Challa told Wakandan fairy tales. Stories of brave warriors, men and women. Giving up everything to save their kingdom.

“They’re brave, Bucky,” he said. “Just like you.”

Sometimes, Steve or Sam would give T’Challa a call. They were good people, able to make T’Challa smile a bit thousands of miles away. He placed the phone on speaker so Bucky could soak up the voices of his friends.

With Bucky, T’Challa felt compelled to talk about his parents; the mother that died before he knew her, and his father. On those days, the room seemed the most quiet, as if Bucky was listening closely.

“I miss him,” he confessed. “I’m never going to be as good of a king as him. Never.”

Those evenings, T’Challa went to bed alone, with a heavy heart.

“Sometimes it just really sucks to be alone,” he told Bucky one day, with a self-deprecating laugh.

This pattern continued for weeks and weeks. Weirdly enough, it was one of the best parts of T’Challa’s day.

One day, a guard knocked on the door to T’Challa’s quarters. It was the middle of the night.
“They’re waking him up.”

Instantly, T’Challa becomes more aware, tense enough that even his guard notices, and she smiles softly up at him.

“They’ve found a cure,” she implores.

By the time he makes it to the chamber, Bucky is just beginning to open his eyes. Big, blue. Wonderfully confused. T’Challa is reminded of one of those Disney princesses Americans like so much.

He looks around at the people in the room almost frantically. Voices unfamiliar now, Bucky looks uncomfortable wth the strangers. T’Challa steps forward quickly, before anything can go too wrong.

Bucky locks eyes with him, striding toward him quickly. T’Challa’s guards move in his direction but he stops and silences them with a hand. He lets Bucky approach him, and is very surprised to get an armful of dripping wet supersoldier. His head rests on T’Challa’s shoulder.

“You are as good as him,” Bucky says first, voice cracking from disuse. “You’re a great King.”

“How would you know? You’ve been asleep.”

Bucky holds tightly enough with just one arm, and T’Challa squeezes back just as hard.

He pulls away briefly to look T’Challa in the eyes, so much blue.

“Because you told me.”

T’Challa breathes in the smell of Bucky - clean, a little chemical. Damp. He imagines Bucky smelling like him, and decides that’s his next order of business.

2

(Gif is mine)

Imagine being a new member of the NCIS team and having trouble with your apartment so you have to stay the night in Abby’s lab where she gives you Bert to keep you company 

Requested by Anon~


“Are you sure this is okay, Abby? I can just get a hotel room for the night…”

“A hotel room?!” The scientist echoed in dismay, then shook her head fiercely. “No; hotel rooms are filthy. My lab is actually a lot cleaner. You’ll be comfy here.”

Abby turned away, not giving you a chance to reply. You followed her to the back room with a sigh, and realized she already had a sleeping bag set out for you. The sentiment made you smile. “Thanks, Abby. This mean a lo-”

The scientist shoved a gray stuffed animal into your arms. As it made contact with your chest, the stuffed toy let out a loud farting noise, making you jump in surprise. Your eyes widened and you looked up to meet Abby’s amused gaze. “It was the hippo.” She affirmed, then patted your shoulder. “Now, get to sleep! You need your rest for this case.”

People often portray America as the child-like type, and I think that’s pretty awesome.

imagine Alfred Jones, one of if not the most powerful nations in the world —the nation who has it all —actually having a room full of toys, figurines and merch, especially space-related toys; Rocketships and satellites and mini astronaut figurines and all that.

And when Alfred and Ivan become a couple and he finds out about his (not so) secret hobby. And though it reminds him of their past together, he finds it to be admirable and adorable.

So everytime they meet he brings him one random space toy. When he sees the excitement in Al’s eyes — how his face lights up and his smile is so wide — it makes Ivan feel so contented… To see his precious little sunflower be happy over the little things.

I wonder if in high fantasy settings, magic and spells are so prominent and accepted, would science become taboo? Or even forbidden by law?

“Daddy, how do the stars stay up?” “BECAUSE OF MAGIC NOW STOP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GO TO YOUR ROOM”. Scientists dissecting frogs using everyday cutlery so as to avoid suspicious scalpel possession. Science speakeasies where enquiring minds compare findings until “WIZARDS COMING!” they become background tavern characters. (Someone throws a glass at someone else to keep up the rough facade but accidentally throws a measuring beaker). Scientists captured in a castle dungeon try to resist torture by only reciting the periodic table over and over again. “What me a scientist nO I’M A BLACKSMITH OBVIOUSLY. That’s why I need all these weird tools honest!”

New Milky Way Galaxy Map Is The Most Accurate Ever Created

“What’s it like to draw a map of the vast galaxy in which our solar system is embedded? NASA has likened the task to drawing a map of your house without ever having ventured from your living room.”

Now, scientists have created what they say is the most accurate map of the Milky Way Galaxy. Wow. (via huffingtonpost)

flickr

residence of the scientist: living room by Atsuhiko Takagi
Via Flickr:
taken on 2016/1/8. Minolta α507si, AF ZOOM 24-85mm 1:3.5-4.5 @24mm, AGFA Vista plus 200

Closed Rp with Prince-Orisis

Shania looked around as the scientists left the lab room. She and a child were both chained down to tables. They had talked about switching something or cutting them both open. Whatever it was she wasn’t gonna wait for it to happen. “Hey kid you alright ?"She asked looking over at the child.