clusters in the air


If memory serves, fish in very cold ocean water (around 0 C) don’t have hemoglobin because at that temperature oxygen just dissolves into water. I assume their blood is clear.

Hmm so it requires a medium to exist…what if Amanu lived in a very thick miasma? I know they have communities and perhaps the air is unfiltered and in presence of so many god-like hyperintelligent fungi nerve cluster things surrounding them maybe it makes the air thick enough for that to allow to happen? Aaahh not sure

The shed of leaves became a cascade of red and gold and after a time the trees stood skeletal against a sky of weathered tin. The land lay bled of its colours. The nights lengthened, went darker, brightened in their clustered stars. The chilled air smelled of woodsmoke, of distances and passing time. Frost glimmered on the morning fields. Crows called across the pewter afternoon
—  James Carlos Blake - Wildwood Boys

North Equatorial Belt Plume - Voyager 2
Four frame Voyager Imaging Science Subsystem narrow angle mosaic taken of a large plume in Jupiter’s North Equatorial Belt. This plume represents a massive cluster of thunderstorms deep within Jupiter’s cloud deck. Rising air from these thunderstorms punches through the surrounding sinking air, producing a white plume of ammonia ice clouds. This image was taken on July 6, 1979 between 1905-1916 UT. This was about 3 days before Voyager 2’s closest approach to the planet. Image Credit: NASA / JPL / Voyager-ISS team / Justin Cowart

F-100D of the 352nd Tactical Fighter Squadron dropping a napalm bomb near Bien Hoa, South Vietnam. Super Sabres could carry an impressive array of weapons, including high explosive bombs, napalm, rockets, cluster bombs and even the guided Bullpup missile. (U.S. Air Force photo)


Plant of the Day

Friday 23 December 2016

The white flowers of Viburnum × bodnantense ‘Deben’ (arrowwood) open from terminal clusters of pink buds and were scenting the winter air. This large, vigorous, upright deciduous shrub has dark green, oval leaves and is grown for the fragrant, winter flowers. It grows well in most moderately fertile, well-drained soil.

Jill Raggett

Home (Jungkook)

merry christmas :)

Clusters of crystals danced through the air, catching glimpses of the hazy sunlight on their gradual descent to the ground. It looked awfully cold out, even with the deceivingly warm rays of sunlight peeking through the half drawn blinds. Even where you were, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket with a mug of piping hot coffee sitting idly in your hands, curled up by the fireplace in your warmest pajamas, for some reason, it felt awfully cold inside too.

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Marceline’s magical… transformation… thing?

I was debating over which of the two colors I liked best… so I picked both! To be honest, I almost deleted these. I’m not really satisfied with how either turned out, but practice makes perfect!! ;u;

        elliot let himself out of the party twenty minutes ago. it was aloud and clustered and he needed fresh air. of course, that fresh air was soon being clouded by cigarette smoke. on the front steps of the porch, his sweat from dancing for hours is being cooled by the crisp air. he wasn’t enjoying being home as much as he was before. he was dragging his time out and he was remembering why he left the small town feeling for such a huge city.

people know everything about his business, they remember what he was like back then. they don’t forgive and they don’t let up and elliot nearly pulled out his hair standing in the middle of past classmates. in new york no one knew him. it was his fresh start. it was a big city without so much fear.

thankfully, charlotte didn’t keep him waiting too long and elliot stood from his spot, exhaling smoke around him so when he crawled into the car, he was free from the cloud, but maybe not quite free from the scent.

@hale-charlotte // closed starter !!

Katherine Johnson, the NASA Mathematician Who Advanced Human Rights with a Slide Rule and PencilNASA chief Charles Bolden recalls the historic trajectory of the “human computer” who played a key role in the Apollo 11 moon landing, and as a female African-American in the 1960s, shattered stereotypes in the process.

When I was growing up, in segregated South Carolina, African-American role models in national life were few and far between. Later, when my fellow flight students and I, in training at the Naval Air Station in Meridian, Mississippi, clustered around a small television watching the Apollo 11 moon landing, little did I know that one of the key figures responsible for its success was an unassuming black woman from West Virginia: Katherine Johnson. Hidden Figuresis both an upcoming book and an upcoming movie about her incredible life, and, as the title suggests, Katherine worked behind the scenes but with incredible impact.

When Katherine began at NASA, she and her cohorts were known as “human computers,” and if you talk to her or read quotes from throughout her long career, you can see that precision, that humming mind, constantly at work. She is a human computer, indeed, but one with a quick wit, a quiet ambition, and a confidence in her talents that rose above her era and her surroundings.

“In math, you’re either right or you’re wrong,” she said. Her succinct words belie a deep curiosity about the world and dedication to her discipline, despite the prejudices of her time against both women and African-Americans. It was her duty to calculate orbital trajectories and flight times relative to the position of the moon—you know, simple things. In this day and age, when we increasingly rely on technology, it’s hard to believe that John Glenn himself tasked Katherine to double-check the results of the computer calculations before his historic orbital flight, the first by an American. The numbers of the human computer and the machine matched.

With a slide rule and a pencil, Katherine advanced the cause of human rights and the frontier of human achievement at the same time. Having graduated from high school at 14 and college at 18 at a time when African-Americans often did not go beyond the eighth grade, she used her amazing facility with geometry to calculate Alan Shepard’s flight path and took the Apollo 11 crew to the moon to orbit it, land on it, and return safely to Earth.

I was so proud of Katherine as I sat with hundreds of other guests in the East Room of the White House and watched as she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama last year. Katherine’s great mind and amazing talents advanced our freedoms at the most basic level—the freedom to pursue the biggest dreams we can possibly imagine and to step into any room in the country and take a seat at the table because our expertise and excellence deserve it. Katherine, now 97, took her seat without fanfare. As far as not being equal was concerned, she said, “I didn’t have time for that. My dad taught us ‘you are as good as anybody in this town, but you’re no better.’ ” I’d posit that Katherine was better—not only at math but also at applying her talents with the precision and beauty possible only in mathematics. She achieved the perfect parabola—casting herself to the stars and believing she could chart the journey home.

Daredevil on the slope - Smokey310 - Haikyuu!! [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Daredevil on the Slope is COMPLETE!

„Seriously. What kind of supernatural being did I piss off to deserve this,“ sighed Tsukishima on their way up to the mountain. Akaashi sat next to him in the little chair lift and watched the trails of small paw prints disappear between the clusters of fir trees. The snow glittered in the sun, the air was icy fresh and everything would have been picture perfect if it wasn’t for the intruder shaking his snowboard around in the third seat.

“Are you talking about me?” asked Tanaka, whom Tsukishima was very obviously talking about.

“Do you see any other people which the devil would have sent to punish me?”

“There’s some right behind us,” said Tanaka, pointing to the following chair lift filled with an excitedly jumping Bokuto, a maniacally smiling Nishinoya, and Kuroo who sat in the middle and looked like he contemplated jumping into the treetops below.

Well – he did have a point there.

best karen cartwright insults from vulture’s smash recaps
  • Friends with your roommate freshman year, until she decided to transfer to the University of Colorado, where people were “real” instead of “fake” like you, you self-involved bitch. 
  • Inspector Javert of the Forever 21 set. 
  • The human equivalent of an abandoned doggie chew toy you have to bribe your toddler with Mr. Softee to keep from putting in his mouth.
  • That little puddle of soap scum that somehow always collects around the rim of the fancy decorative dispenser you started put the dish detergent in.
  • One of those grocery store peaches that looks like a Cezanne but tastes like the inside of a mattress.
  • Curdled little Dannon yogurt person.
  • A wan little Lego person. 
  • Limp little Kleenex wad of a person.
  • Damp Scrabble rack of only I and U’s. 
  • The anthropomorphized cluster of hair follicles and air-conditioning condensation.
  • An unfinished airline magazine crossword puzzle who is unconvincingly successfully masquerading as a human being. 
  • The semi-animate embodiment of a plastic container of fruit salad from which someone has already picked out all the grapes and pineapple, leaving only a few sodden cubes of honeydew melon.
  • Crumpled little Duane Reade receipt you stuck your gum in and then forgot you stuffed back into your purse until it was too late.

Originally posted by kylebraxton

Prompt can be found here

A chill ran down your spine - a result of the cemetery’s eerie atmosphere mixed with the gelid winter air. Allison’s grave was amongst a cluster of others, beside her mother’s and her aunt’s. The very sight of Kate’s fake gravestone roused a fiery rage within you - why did she put her own niece through all of that grief and mourning?

Allison didn’t deserve to be buried in the middle of dozens of other graves, let alone next to her conniving relatives’. In your opinion, she deserved something more grand. She deserved an entire shrine, something to signify just how important she was to you and just how much she impacted everyone’s lives. She was your heroine; she went down fighting for what she believed in and the pack vowed to keep that belief alive. Her sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. We protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Although she was alive in everyone’s memories, you missed her everyday. You came to visit her grave whenever you could, made it look immaculate and brought a different type of flower with each visit. However, most of the time you would just talk. You kept her up to date on everything about the pack, her father, your family, yourself. It was therapeutic and somehow comforting to do.

“Seems like things get more complicated each time I come here.” You announced bitterly. “Do you remember the other banshee I told you about? Meredith? She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s the Benefactor.”

While picking at your nails, you prudently planned out your words.

“I just feel bad - for Lydia, I mean. How could Meredith do this to her after everything they’d gone through? Lydia did so much for her and she didn’t seem to care. No one seems to care lately, actually. They keep leaving Lydia alone, they never know where she is. It’s - it’s bullshit. You gave your life for hers and they don’t even appreciate that -”

You were cut off by your own lamenting. Your diaphragm trembled while tears dripped off of your jaw and into the soil. Even months after her demise, you were so full of anger and despair that you often ended up in tears by the end of each session. However, the recent drama involving the supernaturals of Beacon Hills had become too much and you couldn’t hold out until the end of your visit.

“I’m trying,” you choked out, staring at her cracked gravestone through blurry vision. “I am… It’s just that you were always better at fixing things than I am.”

Amidst your weeping, your heard footsteps scuffling along the stone path that bordered the graveyard. You respectfully muffled your cries, assuming it was the bereaved woman who often ran into you as she came to mourn her daughter, Carrie.

Lowering your head, you stared at the ground which held Allison’s remains and let your thoughts roam. You thought about her, the sacrifice she made, how everyone’s been handling it, how often they visited her - you thought about everything. Everyday was full of remorse and bitterness for your friend. You hated that the pack rarely visited her. Couldn’t they put aside their problems to come pay their respects?

Things were falling apart without her. It seemed like, if she was here, maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as they are. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many murders, so many assassins. Maybe she’d be able to talk some sense into her bloodthirsty aunt or help Lydia with the terrifying voices that endlessly whispered nonsense in her ears. She could be an advisor to Liam or a comforting presence for Scott. She could fight side-by-side with Kira again or train with Braeden or even help Derek learn how to fight like a human, just like she had been taught. There were so many gaps in their lives and a vast hole in your own that all longed to be filled by Allison.

A hand was suddenly placed on your shoulder and you let out a gasp, bringing your teary eyes to meet the culprit. It was Isaac, of all people. He was the last person you expected to be here - he had been across the world in France ever since that night. He didn’t look very different, other than his slightly bigger build and matured semblance. His beige hair still rippled in its familiar waves and framed his striking mien.

You cleared your throat, wiped away the moisture on your face, and spoke. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, well, no one else knows either.” He shrugged.

You wanted to push him further and ask why he didn’t tell anyone of his arrival or why he was here - surely he didn’t come all this way just to visit Allison’s grave and leave, right? Would he do that to you again? To his friends?

Instead, you brought your attention back to the stone where her name was carved. You traced the letters over and over with your fingertips, a solemn sigh escaping you. You wanted to go on, but you couldn’t with Isaac hovering behind you. It didn’t feel right.

“Why are you here?” You wondered. It may have sounded rude, but you didn’t care.

Some shuffling was heard, and then he appeared at your side, sitting next to you. You avoided looking at him altogether, brushing away tears.

“I’ve been running away for too long.” He answered with a wavering voice. “I have to confront this eventually.”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to tell him he was completely right. You wanted him to know how badly it hurt to have lost a close friend to death, only to have another friend leave you behind. He could have made it easier on himself and coped with the loss here, in Beacon Hills, with his pack. With his family. Instead, he made it harder on himself and on you. He mattered to everyone, and so did Allison. Losing both of them at once was too sudden.

You looked at him with heavy eyes. As soon as your lip began to tremble, he pulled you into a side-hug with his hand running up and down your arm.

“I miss her,” you whimpered. “I missed you.”

“I know,” he replied. He rested his chin on your head when you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

In that moment, time felt still. Isaac was preaching hushed words of comfort into your ear as you opened up to someone who could actually respond to you. At first, he reminisced about Allison and all her valiant actions, and then he eased into his fond recollections of France and how much you’d love it there. This was something you’d been dreaming of ever since the day Isaac left - resting in his arms as your cares seemed to dissipate - because there was always something there for him and you believed that there always would be. However, as you pressed yourself closer to his body and listened more intently to his words, the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach seemed to enlarge. You weren’t sure how long this comforting hold would last or if it could ever happen again. You had no idea whether the broken beta would choose to run away once more or stay where you felt he truly belonged. The thought of having to go through his disappearance again was holding you back from truly enjoying his company.

“Stop,” you pleaded, interrupting his description of France’s apparently stunning appearance.

He stared down at you, offended. “What?”

“Are you leaving again?”

“… I don’t know.” He whispered.

Avoiding his pained expression, you zoned out, staring blankly at the pale, decaying grass in front of you. Hearing his uncertainty seemed to have made you feel even more empty inside, like there was a vacant room in your heart waiting to be occupied. You had an entire pack of friends that were practically family to you, but everyone you’d ever truly connected with wasn’t in that pack. They were slaughtered too young or living miles away from the accursed town of Beacon Hills. Luck for you, you were trapped here, being tied down by supernatural and impeded by your family.

And in your case, it seemed it would always be that way.

Galaxies dot the sky in this impressively wide and deep image of the Antlia Cluster. The third closest cluster of galaxies to Earth after Virgo and Fornax, the Antlia cluster is known for its compactness and its high fraction of elliptical galaxies over (spirals. Antlia, cataloged as Abell S0636, spans about 2 million light years and lies about 130 million light years away toward the constellation of the Air Pump (Antlia). The cluster has two prominent galaxy groups - bottom center and upper left – among its over 200 galactic members, but no single central dominant galaxy. The vertical red ribbon of gas on the left is thought related to the foreground Antlia supernova remnant and not associated with the cluster. The featured image composite, taken from New Zealand, resulted from 150+ hours of exposures taken over six months.

Object Names: Antila Cluster

Credit: Rolf Olsen

Time And Space

So, the articles in their “article” directory need to be designated with two letters and a 41-digit number. That’s good, because if the site generates a quadrillion articles a day, that will be enough to keep them in numbers for the next hundred quadrillion millennia. You want to make sure your website URLs will keep you supported well after the heat death of the next universe that replaces this one. Yes, I know about URL shorteners like tinyurl, that will make the address short enough to Tweet. Why the hell is shortening a URL my job?

But even when sites are just choosing domains, they often don’t work very hard to make them memorable. I just heard a radio ad urging listeners to attend some community college. The address, which they read on the air, was – or as it’s read aloud: “To find out more, visit eye see see bee dee bee ess arr vee dot eye see see bee dot oh arr gee forward slash clusters forward slash home dot see eff em.” Even if you’re not driving, you would have to be sitting with pen in hand, waiting specifically for that commercial to come on and hope that you didn’t confuse any of the Ds, Bs, Vs or Cs – there are nine pronounced in that ridiculous URL.

5 Things I Can’t Believe Websites Are Still Doing


i just realized something

in jailbreak, Peridot said to Jasper they’re only going to Earth for the cluster.

then, keeping it together aired, and i forgot that peridot said anything. 

i watch jailbreak again, and then i realize what the cluster was.

rebecca you sly old fox…


Steven VS the Cluster!

This incredible scene was leaked shortly after ‘Back to the Barn’ aired. How thrilling!