A 14-frame clip showing the atmosphere of Jupiter as viewed from the NASA probe Cassini. Taken over a span of 24 Jupiter rotations between October 31 and November 9, 2000, this clip shows various patterns of motion across the planet. The Great Red Spot rotates counterclockwise, and the uneven distribution of its high haze is obvious. To the east (right) of the Red Spot, oval storms, like ball bearings, roll over and pass each other. East-west bands adjacent to each other move at different rates. Strings of small storms rotate around northern-hemisphere ovals. The large grayish-blue “hot spots” at the northern edge of the white Equatorial Zone change over time as they proceed eastward across the planet. Ovals in the north rotate counter to those in the south. Small, very bright features appear quickly and randomly in turbulent regions, possibly lightning storms. The smallest visible features at the equator are about 600 km (370 miles) across.
A visit to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming is an experience to cherish for a lifetime. Photographer Tiffany Mark described what she felt when she took this stunner as “the kind of moment where you’re completely thankful that we have places to partake in such beauty.” Storm clouds were rolling in, which added some drama to the already captivating landscape. Photo courtesy of Tiffany Mark.
reading poetry in different languages: aesthetic impressions
Spanish: juice dripping from your mouth as you bite into fresh fruit; honeyed skin incessantly kissed by the sun; long laughter and shadows of summer; a red rose on a bedside table in a white room, where a single petal falls; the silhouettes of lovers sitting at the end of a dock, everything the deepest blue.
French: a river running smooth as silk; pale mornings, watching cigarette smoke slip away like a scarf in the wind; a drink which singes your throat as it slips down into your core and warms you; hot tears stinging your face, then the cold water that washes them away; the agony of orgasm.
German:storm clouds rolling in; the fear of god in the eyes of painted sinners; a long black coat for hiding every secret; shoes clacking on a wooden floor; purple veins on eyelids; the dial tone ringing and ringing when no one is taking your call; an uncapped pen which has bled all over the page.
Irish Gaelic: a whip of raven black hair; lying awake with only the moon to console you; high sand dunes punctuated with brushstrokes of green, green grass; how a first kiss feels so bright, like walking on air; the crash of the ocean, always running into the soft limitless arms of the shore.
Pashto: pomegranates, always and always, and the way they open endlessly; a woman blossoming in front of herself; a purple sunset over mountaintops; children singing songs together under the shade of a fruit tree; a bucket splashing water over your feet; whispers in the dark, a taunting dialogue.
Abelas. The Ryan Gosling of the Dragon Age universe. And he’s here to support you, girl. All the way through the Solavellan hellspiral and straight into the surprisingly sweet bromance to romance that is Abellan.
“What do you mean it’s broken?” You inquire with slight force behind your words as you gave a slight glare at your boyfriend.
Jacob only gives you a cheeky grin as he ran a hand through his hair. You only continue to stare at him as he begins pacing.
“I may or may not have tried to make you breakfast in bed today? But the toaster clearly has a grudge on me and wouldn’t let the toast become, well, toast.” He explains and you only cross your arms in front of your chest, even though you did feel a warm tingle knowing that at least Jacob tried.
“Jacob…” You sigh even though you couldn’t suppress a smile for long and most of your anger had dissipated. “I appreciate the whole breakfast in bed you were trying to organize, but promise me that you will leave the cooking to me, alright?”
“I promise, love.” Jacob laughs as he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you gently on the nose.
You giggle in response as you fully embrace him, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and the cheap cologne he used to cover up most of the sweat. The two of you stand there for what felt like an eternity before you eye the now broken toaster and the plate of burnt toast.
Lance and Keith Being Held Captive Together Angsty Headcanon
From a conversation with my roommate about what would happen if one of the paladins was being tortured in front of the other
Warning: Glorious angst storm rolling your way!
They’re taken together during a fight that broke out between the paladins and the Galra on a scouting mission on another planet and flown to Zarkon’s main ship as priority prisoners.
When they arrive they’re stripped of their armor and bayards and sent to the druids for interrogation. Haggar handles the interrogation of the paladins personally
They’re chained up, dressed in prisoner rags, and kept in separate cells in order to keep them from conspiring with each other.
When their interrogation techniques prove less.. effective than they wanted, Haggar decides it’s time for a change of tactics. After all, these humans seem to care a lot about one another’s well-being
When the druids drag both Lance and Keith (who both look like hell) into Haggar’s lab the next day, they know something’s up.
Keith is forced to a halt in front of some of Haggar’s horrific looking contraptions as Lance is forcibly lead forward to the tables and hooked up into the machines.
Haggar leers over Keith and says that since she’d in SUCH a good mood today, she’ll give them one last chance to tell her all they know about Voltron, the paladins, and the Castle of Lions
Keith just glares at her. Lance grits his teeth, “We told you we don’t know anything and even if we did we wouldn’t tell you.”
Haggar smiles maliciously as she glides over to him and looks back at Keith, “Oh yes. I think you will.”
Keith’s menacing glare is suddenly replaced by wide-eyed horror as Haggar whips around and begins to shoot her dark lightning directly into Lance
The druids continue to torture Lance in front of him as Haggar goads Keith, telling him they’ll only stop once he starts talking
Lance just gasps and screams through the pain to Keith to not tell them anything, it’s not worth it!
Keith is straining, fighting against the restraints tooth and nail and calling Lance’s name as Haggar’s cackles mingle with Lance’s agonized cries
Keith’s distress for Lance and rage at Haggar and the druids fills him with a searing fire that wipes all thought from his head but one: Protect Lance. His eyes suddenly glow a burning yellow and before anyone can react or process it he’s snapped the chains holding him back and torn his claws into the nearest druid
Haggar blasts Keith back instantly with a shriek of indignant rage. Lance looks on through bleary eyes in complete shock at a suddenly snarling, twitching Keith. A Keith whose skin has gone purple and his eyes are yellow and ohmygosh is that BLOOD all over his… hands? Claws?? Lance can’t believe it
The remaining druids use their magic to immediately restrain Keith who’s looking at Haggar with nothing less than pure hatred.
Haggar laughs gleefuly, “Contact Emperor Zarkon and throw the Blue Paladin back in his cell. It seems we have an unexpected development, one that may prove most fruitful.”
Lance screams Keith’s name before the druids knock him out. The last thing he sees is Haggar disappearing with Keith.
This song has me nostalgic of afternoon rainstorms in the Rockies, the sticky sweetness of post rain humidity. The all encompassing warmth. Saying goodbye to the storm as it rolled over the other side of the mountain.
Like a scene straight out of a movie, the moment he was summoned, the world seemed to get darker. They were just standing on a rocky cliff, the sun high above them as gentle ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore below. Now, grey and heavy storm clouds rolled out of nowhere and blanketed the sky, hiding the sun and threatening to send a cascade of rain atop their heads. The once gentle ocean now churned and crashed against the cliff side so hard, Lincoln was sure that it was trying to bring the entire rock face and them with it down to the bottom of the sea. Somewhere along the sea horizon, thunder rolled.
And there he was. Standing tall and menacing before them, surrounded by a thick, neon green mist that circled around his calves. His eyes piercing the dark like two cursed emeralds, dangerous and threatening, and even though all his instincts told him to look away and bolt like a wee barra into his mother’s skirts, Lincoln couldn’t help but stare back into them.
He was staring into the eyes of a god. The god. The god he had been warned to never be in contact with. The god that had more rumors spread about him than legends. The god that even the other gods, his own father included, never talked about.
The god that had been lost for generations, was standing right before his very eyes. Glowing, practically overflowing with unused ancient energy that seemed to course and surge around him like green venomous lightning.
All because some fourteen year old girl called him a Seaweed Brain.