spinning vortex

The spinning vortex of Saturn’s north polar storm resembles a deep red rose of giant proportions surrounded by green foliage in this false-color image from NASA’s Cassini spacecraft. Measurements have sized the eye at a staggering 1,250 miles (2,000 kilometers) across with cloud speeds as fast as 330 miles per hour (150 meters per second).

Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SSI 

“Cas! Cas! Don’t do this to me, Cas.”

Dean kneels in the dirt next to Cas’s inert body, the rough fabric of the trenchcoat gripped tightly in his fists. It’s been minutes–hours?–since they came through from the other universe, since Cas… Dean doesn’t know when he started crying, but his face is wet with tears and his throat is raw from sobbing and pleading with Cas.

“Open your eyes, Cas. You cannot leave me. Not again. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes…”

He is still whispering the words, his voice nearly gone, when Sam pulls him away.

***

“Cas.”

It’s been over a week since they burned Cas’s body. Dean’s mind won’t let him sleep; he still sees the flames every time he closes his eyes. He feels the heat licking at his skin, cracking his lips. Now he sits on the cement floor of the parking garage; it’s the coolest place he can find.

“Where are you, Cas? Can you hear me anymore? Is it hot where you are? Is it cold? Where do angels go when they…”

There are tears on his cheeks again.

The barest whisper: “I miss you, Cas.”

***

On a hunt, a werewolf pack closing in.

“Cas! We could use your help!”

Sam jerks in surprise, barely escapes a snapping jaw.

The fight is brutal. Dean has a gash on his arm, Sam a badly bruised rib, but all the werewolves are dead. They make their way back to the Impala, Dean muttering, “Where are you, Cas?”

“Dean,” Sam says softly, “Cas is–”

Dean’s glare stops him cold.

***

Dark fields fly past outside Baby’s windows, and the sky above is a flood of stars. Dean is blind to all but the road and the steering wheel.

Led Zeppelin plays on the radio. Ramble On. This isn’t on the tape he made for…

“This used to be one of my favorite songs, Cas. But it’s all about goodbye, all about looking for something more. That was my life, always saying goodbye. Then we found the bunker, so we kinda had a home. And I thought–I hoped–someday I’d have you too.”

The song had ended while he was praying. The Impala’s engine and her wheels on the road are the only sounds until Dean’s gasping sobs fill the car.

He pulls over to the side of the road.

Cas.” Dean chokes on the name. “I wish you could hear me.”

***

It’s been 37 days since Cas…left.

Dean is off on his own again. He hunts with Sam, but between hunts he can’t seem to stay still, just like he can’t seem to close his eyes. So he drives. When he realizes where he is, he makes a sound that is almost a laugh.

Pontiac, Illinois.

He takes a few wrong turns, but eventually finds his way to the barn. It is, surprisingly, still standing. He expects to find the inside littered with beer bottles and the like, but there is nothing. Maybe all the signs and sigils scared off the local miscreants.

Memories wash over Dean in a rush.

Sparks.

Wings.

Stabbings.

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

I’m an angel of the Lord.

This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Dean falls to his knees, head bowed. Remembering. The awesome sight of Cas’s wings, filling the entire barn. The way his eyes seemed to look into Dean’s very soul. The feeling of being known, and chosen, and wanted.

He aches for Cas, so even he is surprised by the words that tumble from his lips.

“Chuck. I don’t know if you’re listening anymore. The bible says–and yeah, Cas told me to read the bible, so I did–that you’re everywhere at once, so maybe you can still hear me even off on your family vacation.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this. I sound like an idiot. I’ve gotten used to praying to Cas, but he can’t hear me anymore. Lucifer, he…” Tears flow from Dean’s eyes.

“I’m broken, Chuck. I can barely stand. You need to give him back to us. We need him. And not because he’s a fighter, or because he’s an angel, or because he’s a part of our team. You need to give him back because…” Dean takes a shuddering breath. “You need to give him back to me. Because I love him. He’s not my brother, he’s…he’s everything.”

His voice is raw, thick with tears.

“I never got to tell him. Please, Chuck. Please. I don’t know what else to say. Can you hear the sound of a heart breaking?”

***

Chuck blinks.

“Well, what do you know. Too bad I’m not writing any more books. I love character development.”

He twirls his finger in the air, and the dust motes form a spinning vortex. Atoms join, coming together to form more and more complex molecules until, with a tiny breath from Chuck, the angel stands in front of him.

Chuck gestures. “Sorry about the tie. Dean seem to like it backwards, though.”

Cas stands bewildered, patting his coat, touching his face, ruffling his hair–deliberately avoiding the place where the blade pierced his chest.

“And the tape is still in your pocket. I know it’s important to you.”

Cas’s hand flies to the inside pocket of his trenchcoat. When his hand closes around the familiar piece of plastic he relaxes slightly.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. “I was…gone. Again.”

Chuck points at himself. “Did you forget who I am? Or how many times I’ve done this for you?”

Cas’s thoughts still haven’t caught up to the present. “But why?”

“Character development.”

Cas tilts his head, puzzled. “I don’t–”

“Nevermind,” Chuck says, chuckling to himself. “I just need you to deliver a message to Dean Winchester, okay?”

Cas nods, eyes bright. “Alright.”

“Tell him…tell him…no, on second thought, just go. I think he’ll understand. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that.”

Cas nods again, still not understanding, but willing to go. Chuck reaches out, gently rests his hands on Cas’s shoulders.

“One more thing,” he says. “It was never a punishment, Castiel.”

Cas’s eyes widen.

“You always believe in me. I keep bringing you back because I always believe in you too.”

***

Boards creak. Feathers rustle.

Dean’s head jerks up.

“Dean, why are we here?”

Dean cannot speak. He pulls himself to his feet, his eyes never leaving Cas’s. He walks to Cas, and when they are standing close enough to touch Cas says, “What about personal space, Dean?”

“Are you real, Cas?” Dean breathes. “Are you really you?”

Understanding, Cas flexes his wings. Blue-black feathers flash. No demon or shapeshifter could fake that.

“Good,” says Dean. “Oh, Cas. I–”

But there are no words. He pulls Cas into a hug, holding him like he never wants to let go.

“Thank you, Chuck,” Dean whispers. “Thank you.”

F.U. Part 2

Originally posted by mendesgif

Part 2 of this was highly requested a while back, so here it is and it’s officially my debut piece in writing for the first time in a while! I hope you guys are appeased with it and if you aren’t, then don’t read it? lol

Word Count: 1,817

Part one > here

-

It was only the third week.

The last three weeks have been a blur of ice cream, tears, friends and declining his calls.

Whenever he called, he would leave a message, always.

Whenever he left a message, you would listen, always.

Was it healthy? Of course it fucking wasn’t, but what the hell were you to do?

Your eyes burned from the tears that left your tear ducts, staring at the little red notification by the phone icon. You knew you shouldn’t, but you always did.

Delicately raising the phone to your ear, his voice deafened you with regret.

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Friday night

We fight

As usual, I’ve been

Too much

Too honest

Too expressive

As usual, I’ve crossed

That ever moving line

Stepped out of bounds

Landed in the valley of

“Why are you like this?”

“You’re ruining the night. ”

“I don’t need to deal with this right now. ”

The words whirl around me

Sucked into the vortex

I spin wildly with my thoughts

Frozen by the whirlwind of accusations

Judgement reached

She turns to slam the door

Crushing me under her heel

I lay trapped

Under the weight of my inadequacy

Her justification for walking out

There will be no further communication tonight

I know better now than to try and speak of this

Tomorrow


- the drunk version of my girlfriend hates me

NASA’s Cassini spacecraft captured images of the spinning vortex at Saturn’s north polar storm which resembles a red rose when viewed through filters used to differentiate the height of the storm. Red equals lower clouds, while green indicate greater height. [1001 × 1001]

This is how the sky falls:
I tell you I love you.
I pretend I don’t know how young the day still is,
pretend I’ve seen a night with weathered hands
and now know I can handle your darkness.
I start drinking from your coffee cup.
I thread my fingers through your hair
when touching your face feels too deadly,
like I know that one caress will send me spinning
into a vortex of you, you, only you,
and so I memorize the scent of your shampoo
instead.
When you hold my waist,
I do not flinch.
I am unlearning years of backing away.
I lie in your bed and our legs
steal the knots from my stomach,
teach me that this
of all things
might be okay.
And there is no better way to go
than wrapped up in your bedsheets,
and if this universe ends,
it ends with you.
—  Apocalypse (h.r.s.)
Pyromania (Sith!Obi-Wan x FemJedi!Reader) - Part IV

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Thank you for the reblogs and likes so far! I do apologize for the wait on this chapter! We will meet our beloved Sith in this chapter!!! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts and ideas on this fic. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future posts for this fanfic!

Warnings/Triggers/Rating: None, yet. Also, eventually this will reach M, but for now we can keep it wholesome

Tagged Lovelies: @persephone-laughs @beckwahtneys @untiltheveryfinal

Part One  Part Two  Part Three

Originally posted by hexzell

Location Unknown, 24 BBY

When I awoke, the world around me spun, ever so slightly, as if my head were completing revolutions, or I had spun for a good while.  As my eyes adjusted to the light from above me, I could see stone walls. Well, mostly dirt-clad stone walls, but this was quite a shift from the green and beauty of Naboo.  I cursed myself silently for not thinking when I used the Force that day and evening.  I might still be on my post if I had not been so frivolous with my mind trick or calling my saber.  At the thought of it, I went to grab it, but I was unable to move.  I furrowed my brows, attempting to call my saber to my hand.  I could not feel the Force, which bothered me.  Glancing down to my hands and feet, I noticed that they were bound.  Force-restraining cuffs. I then realized that it was not just my head spinning.  It was my entire body. I was suspended in some sort of Force-less cage, unable to move or call out.  Perhaps I should pass out again to waste more time…

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  • me: okay but emmet is literally the best. he had known the master builders for like 2 hours and he threw himself into a spinning vortex of terror to save his friends. most of them treated him like garbage and he was still completely willing to give up his life for them. unbelievable.
  • alien: i asked you where your leader is
  • me: hold your stinkin' horses buddy im getting to it

real quick note: I’m simultaneously treating Grog/Tary as a huge joke, in line with how the players seem to be treating it, and I crack ship the shit out of them. They are spinning vortexes of chaos and I would love for them to get together at some point just to see what kind of havoc would be left in their wake. Not to mention every single time they’re “on-screen” together there’s a ton of innuendo flying around. 

So, it’s all fun and games but I would also like to be made ship captain and have people send me headcanons. Just putting that out there. 

This one from IBM. The spinning griddy vortex of data. The image in so nuanced, so layered. The grid implies structure, but the swirliness implies an unstructuredness to the structure. The kind of structure that only an IBM consultant could suss out for you. And in that structure there is data. But not the binary data of yore. No, it’s regular ol’ digits. Because this image accompanies a white paper to be read by executives. And they don’t get binary.

You feel your friends’ souls resonating within Asriel!

Strangely, as your friends remembered you…

Something else began resonating within the soul, stronger and stronger.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

But who…?

Suddenly, you realize.

You reach out and call their name.

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anonymous submitted:

This is about the dogs again, although I’m unsure if I should still call them that.

I remember a few times where I had that feeling of looking at something incredibly huge when I could only see something small. The dream was the most recent example, but it happened a few times before that – not for years, though.

First, to answer your question, I have connections to the Middle East through my stepmother. She is Iraqi, but has family in Yemen and Jordan. I’ve visited Iraq and Jordan when I was younger, with the rest of my family. I haven’t been since I was fifteen; my dad and stepmum have since visited alone.

A few things happened that I think are close to what you’re talking about.

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[This is part of an ongoing correspondence which can be found chronologically here.]

I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or unnerved that this was the kind of thing I was expecting to hear about. The animals that aren’t animals, the discrepancy with time and location, and even the association with storms and unusual occurrences is all what I would expect from something like this. I’m fairly certain I have an idea of what’s going on, but I won’t pigeon-hole it just yet. We live in a very strange world, and it would be a disservice to that if I automatically assumed that it was this particular thing simply because I have experience with it.

In the spirit of an exchange of information, I do have a lot of experience with the kinds of things you’ve described here, and a lot of these experiences occurred while I was living and working in the Middle East. As a rule I tend not to give out locations, so all I will say is that these were different countries to the ones you experienced this in, but despite the difference in location there were many similarities. I have mentioned before that the animal I tend to have the most unusual encounters with are foxes, but I distinctly remember having a similar experience with a pig one evening. Like you, I was quite far away from civilisation, driving up in the mountains. As I turned a corner there was a pig standing in the middle of the road, looking at me as though she expected me. I remember thinking that she was very large, even for a pig, and I also had the same thought that you had – there was no need for her to be there, as the only real reason to keep pigs is for meat, which is obviously forbidden. I slowed and finally stopped, with the pig staring at me the whole while, and once I had stopped I was close enough to see that the pig had human eyes. As soon as I noticed that, she quickly – and I mean very quickly, for an animal of her size and weight – crossed to the other side of the road and vanished down the slope.

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