#c: the volcanic

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën ZX Volcane, 1992. The ZX was designed at Bertone by Donato Coco, sharing many components with Peugeot's 305. The Volcano came with a 2.0 litre 16 valve 4 cylinder engine share with the Peugeot 405 Mi16

[nocternalrandomness]

A USAF C-17 passes the Diamond Head volcanic crater on Oʻahu en route to Hickam AFB, Hawaii

[psykopaths]

[rabbitcruiser]

Wolf Creek Valley Overlook, CO (No. 1)

Wolf Creek Pass is a high mountain pass on the Continental Divide, in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.  It is the route through which U.S. Highway 160 passes from the San Luis Valley into southwest Colorado on its way to New Mexico and Arizona. The pass is notable as inspiration of a C. W. McCall song. The pass is significantly steep on either side (6.8% maximum grade) and can be dangerous in winter. There are two runaway truck ramps on the westbound side for truckers that lose control of their brakes.

Wolf Creek Pass, once a two-lane road winding through the San Juan Mountains between South Fork, Colorado, and Pagosa Springs, has been expanded into a multi-lane highway, greatly increasing the traffic capacity of the pass and making it more navigable in bad weather. It is the easiest access to southwest Colorado from the rest of the state, as all remaining overland routes require lengthy detours through New Mexico or over Lizard Head Pass, near Telluride, or the intimidating Red Mountain Pass, a two-lane road winding along sheer cliffs from Ouray to Silverton.

Source: Wikipedia    

[volcancreative]

Elevate your charging game with the Volcan 65W USB-C Charger! Never worry about slow charging again - this charger delivers power to your devices quickly and safely.

Volcan 65W USB-C Charger with a maximum powerful 65W output, improves charging efficiency. Stay connected and powered up with Volcan!

[marcogiovenale]

un post del 10 aprile 2022, in ricordo di un saluto a cristina annino

  ieri pomeriggio, 9 aprile ’22, a Ostia i familiari di Cristina Annino (scomparsa il 28 gennaio) hanno disperso in mare le sue ceneri. foto di Pietro Roversi con alcuni amici, con i quali avevamo assistito alla cerimonia, siamo andati poi alla Casa clandestina, per parlare (anche) di poesie e di scritture. l’ospitalità della Casa e la compagnia di Giuseppe, militante del collettivo Subword,…

[vestaignis]

Извержение вулкана Килауэа: встреча двух стихий.

Вулкан Килауэа находится на Большом острове Гавайского архипелага и занимает почти 14% его территории.Килауэа - самый молодой из наземных гавайских вулканов (США) и один из самых активных действующих вулканов на Земле. Высота Килауэа - 1247 метров над уровнем моря, его основание уходит на дно Тихого океана на глубину около 5 км.  

Последнее извержение Килауэа было в 1983 году и продолжается по настоящее время. Килауэа считается местом обитания Пеле — гавайской богини вулканов. По ее имени названы некоторые лавовые образования, например, «слезы Пеле» (маленькие капли лавы, которые студятся на воздухе и принимают фигуру слезы) и «волосы Пеле» (тонкие нити вулканического стекла обсидиана, возникающие в итоге быстрого остывания лавы при стекании в океан).

Профессиональная спортсменка Элисон Тил стала первой девушкой, решившей устроить экстремальный серфинг возле извергающегося вулкана. Бурлящие потоки лавы стекают прямо в океан, в то самое место, где и решила поплавать спортсменка. Тут стоит быть предельно осторожным и оставаться на чеку, ведь скорость, с которой движется раскаленная лава, может составлять несколько метров в секунду, а температура ее колеблется в районе 500–1200° C — этого с лихвой хватит, чтобы моментально свариться заживо.

За Килауэа круглосуточно наблюдают десятки специалистов со всего мира. На кадрах с Гавайев – огненные потоки лавы стекают со склонов вулкана прямо в Тихий океан. По утверждению ученых, при контакте раскаленной субстанции и воды брызги лавы взлетают на десятки метров. Удивительное природное явление привлекает к вулкану Килауэа туристов, которые желают увидеть столкновение стихий вживую. Однако геологи не рекомендуют приближаться к вулкану, поскольку тот может оказаться непредсказуемым.

Kilauea Volcano Eruption: A Meeting of Two Elements.

Kilauea Volcano is located on the Big Island of the Hawaiian archipelago and occupies almost 14% of its territory. Kilauea is the youngest of the Hawaiian land volcanoes (USA) and one of the most active volcanoes on Earth. Kilauea is 1,247 meters above sea level, its base goes to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean to a depth of about 5 km.

The last eruption of Kilauea was in 1983 and continues to this day. Kilauea is considered the home of Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. Some lava formations are named after her, for example, "Pele's tears" (small drops of lava that cool in the air and take the shape of a tear) and "Pele's hair" (thin threads of volcanic obsidian glass that appear as a result of the rapid cooling of lava as it flows into the ocean).

Professional athlete Alison Teel became the first girl to try extreme surfing near an erupting volcano. Bubbling lava flows straight into the ocean, the very place where the athlete decided to swim. Here you should be extremely careful and stay on guard, because the speed at which the hot lava moves can be several meters per second, and its temperature fluctuates around 500–1200° C — this is more than enough to instantly boil alive.

Kilauea is monitored around the clock by dozens of specialists from all over the world. In the footage from Hawaii, fiery lava flows flow from the slopes of the volcano straight into the Pacific Ocean. According to scientists, when the hot substance comes into contact with water, splashes of lava fly up tens of meters. An amazing natural phenomenon attracts tourists to the Kilauea volcano who want to see the clash of the elements live. However, geologists do not recommend approaching the volcano, as it may prove unpredictable.

Источник: /travelask.ru/blog/posts/4045-zaplyv-s-lavoy-na-gavayyah, //gsavia.com/uncategorized/gavajskie-vulkany-nacionalnyj-park.html, /ru.pinterest.com/pin/9499849187484206/,/loveopium.ru/severnaya-amerika/izrygayushhij-vulkan-kilauea.html,/masterok.livejournal.com /105805.html,//t.me/+E4YBiErj0A8wOGUy,/onznews.wdcb.ru/jul16/info_160726.html,/gorets-media.ru/news/3717.

[reddpenn]

I’m back from my rock show! I got some Cool Rocks!

First, the agates.

Another Turkish stick agate to join my collection! I can't get enough of this stuff. These form as pseudomorphs of selenite. A bunch of criss-crossing selenite crystals grow inside an empty pocket in the rock, and then the space around them fills in with agate. Eventually, the selenite crystals dissolve, and the hollows they leave behind are also filled with agate, preserving a record of their shapes!

Bonus! This pair has a nice green fluorescence.

Here is another Turkish agate. (Almost all of today's agates are from Turkey; Turkey produces some beautiful agate specimens.) This one has a really interesting pattern to its banding.

I actually picked this one out for its fluorescence, which is a stunning bright green.

Also from Turkey! Growing inside a super cool crust of volcanic rhyolite, this agate is called sagenite. Sagenite agate has a fibrous appearance because it is a pseudomorph of a fibrous zeolite mineral.

The last two from Turkey: a pretty red specimen with a sparkly central vug, and a weirdo with squiggles of yellow. What’s going on with that guy?

This one is from China! The red and orange agates from this locale are called "Fighting Blood" agate. I already have a Fighting Blood in my collection, but I thought this one was neat because its vug is full of amethyst!

Here are some things which are not agate!

This one is a lead mineral called plumbogummite! Specifically, these crystals are a pseudomorph of another lead mineral called pyromorphite. Over time, the lime green pyromorphite crystals were slowly replaced by the tealy plumbogummite. In a few of the broken crystals, you can still see a green pyromorphite core!

Hyalite opal! This rock has been on my bucket list, I am so excited. This form of opal is known for its water-clear, jelly-like globule formations. Though typically a colorless mineral, this specimen is tinted yellow due to iron staining. It’s also a mineral famous for its bright fluorescence… but this specimen’s glow is utterly unimpressive. :c I will be on the lookout for a more glowy specimen at future shows. Honestly, I’m just happy to finally own some at all!

This year, I also got some high-end mineral specimens! Take a look at these beauties.

Roselite! This rare, toxic mineral is full of arsenic. If I ate it I would probably die! Roselite’s deep red color comes from the cobalt in its chemical structure, and makes it highly sought after by collectors. This specimen is showing off a well defined lenticular crystal habit! Again, I cannot overstress how rare this stuff is. I spent… an inadvisable amount of money on it.

Oh, the best and most sparkly boy. This is wulfenite! I have wanted a piece in my collection for so long, and I’ve been waiting for just the right specimen to come along. It's a lead mineral, and it forms the coolest square, tabular crystals! This mineral is extremely brittle, which makes large, intact crystals of it very hard to find. But check out the huge tabular crystal on the right side of this specimen, it’s bigger than my thumbnail!!

And finally, I could not resist buying something silly.

This is Tully. He's a plush Tully Monster, which is my state fossil!

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Prehistoric Mirrors from Turkey, c.6,000 BCE: these are the oldest manufactured mirrors in the world, dating back to about 8,000 years ago; they were meticulously crafted from pieces of obsidian

Above: two of the obsidian mirrors from Çatalhöyük (Turkey); this pair was found buried together back in 2012

At least eight of these obsidian mirrors have been discovered at a Neolithic site known as Çatalhöyük, which is located in Turkey. All of the mirrors date back to roughly 8,000 years ago, and each one was crafted from a chunk of obsidian (volcanic glass) that was knapped into the shape of a disc and then meticulously polished with progressively finer abrasives until a smooth, slightly convex surface had been developed.

Some of these mirrors can still produce remarkably clear reflections, even after 8,000 years.

Sources & More Info:

The Archaeologist: World's Oldest Mirrors Found at Neolithic Çatalhöyük Site

Çatalhöyük Research Project: Archive Report from 2012 (PDF download)

Çatalhöyük Research Project: Main Website

The Past: Cyber Archaeology, How 3D Modeling is Unpeeling the Neolithic at Çatalhöyük

[aerospectrum]

A surge of hopefulness rushed through his veins at the prospect of no longer being contractually obligated to hang around this guy. But then the stipulation followed. “You didn’t say where I had to get you back to. The contract didn’t either; I got you back to the docks; that’s the end of the line for me.” Castiel’s face shifted to one of utter despair, though he quickly masked it behind his dry monotone voice.

Indignation rose in his chest at Trevor’s accusation though; revealing his uncaring facade. “Getting attacked by the Mososaurus wasn’t me putting you through more trouble. That’s not on me and it’s fucked of you to blame me for it…” he bit down on the insides of his cheeks to simmer his temper. “Why do you think nobody wants to help your ass, T; you treat everyone like some fucking disposable commodity- nothing’s ever good enough for you.” He glared at the man for a long hard second. “If I get back to your camp will you fuck off and leave me alone for good? No more dragging in me into your issues or trying to tell me about Moonshine’s newest trick? We’re not…” he swallowed down whatever it was that tried to rise up. “I’m not your friend, I’m just some guy you pulled out of the river; try and remember that after this.”

@aerospectrum said i appreciate you saving my life and all, but when i signed on, i agreed to take you out there and bring you back. end of job, end of story, contract terminated (cas to trevor)

"Yeah, you're right. That was our agreement." Trevor nodded, hands sliding down to rest at his hips. Situation had changed drastically, though. Cas had accomplished all of the terms except one; bringing Trevor back. The boat that got them to Isla Nublar was destroyed - damaged beyond repair after the Mososaurus attacked. The two barely managed to make it to land, the rest of their crew either sinking to the bottom of the ocean or eaten by the giant beast itself. "See, you haven't gotten me back yet, have you? So, I'm extending the contract since you're putting me through all this trouble. And that's given we even manage to survive."

[outofgloom]

CHRONICLER

"There is a link now between us," the Toa intoned, holding the Matoran's gaze.

The Matoran looked back, eyes wide behind its mask. It did not move.

"...I shall be with you, in heart..."

The Matoran's eyes wandered slightly, glancing to the cliff face behind the Toa, the empty black opening with its fringe of roots and stalactites. The cave-mouth was piled with detritus, with broken branches and scraps of metal, of armor...of limbs–

"Hey."

The Toa's hand was making the sharp attention-gesture between her eyes, and the Matoran's visual focus snapped back to center involuntarily.

"Look for me in your rest-state," the Toa continued. "I will come to you then, and speak to you of the things I see underground. Remember them."

"Remember them."

"Confirmed?"

"Confirmed."

"Good."

The Toa rose from her meditation pose, up and up, and towered over the Matoran.

"Return to the Koro and await," she said, and made the dismiss-gesture, stepping toward the cave mouth. She shrugged her shoulders powerfully, and the jungle air went even more humid as she stepped forward.

The Matoran was already turning away, walking down the path beneath the twisted broad-leafed trees. He tried to turn his head, tried to look back, but could not. He was the chronicle-unit now. His duty was to return to the Koro and await. Return and await…

He stumbled on the uneven path, which was furrowed by the passage of whatever creature had moved through the Koro several nights ago. A glint of metal caught his eye as he regained his balance. Off to the side. He walked onward, barely noticing. Return and await. He was the chronicle-unit. Return and await.

The Koro spread out before him as he left the cover of the trees, and he made a beeline for his hut. Return and await.

It wasn't until he'd entered the door and sat on the rest-pallet that he registered what he had seen, off the side of the path, in the torn grass, the mangled roots...

The old Turaga's mask, or half of it.

He shivered. Teeth marks.

He awaited.

* * *

It had been a few hours. The other Matoran had come to check on him, since he had not returned to the work. Their faces looked in at the door of his hut, but they said nothing. They saw his face, and they understood. They left him alone, to await. That was his duty, and theirs was to continue repairs, to recover the masks which could be recovered, to inter the bodies properly so that they might go unto Mata.

The hut was dim, and he had assumed the meditation position for some time, waiting patiently. Patiently…

Asleep. He had fallen asleep where he sat, but now he snapped awake. The Toa’s mask hung before his eyes, and for a moment he believed he had failed, had missed the chronicle. The Toa had returned, found him in his hut, and would berate him for his error!

He flinched away from the great mask, but there was no anger in those eyes. They simply stared him down, staring…

The hut was gone. The cave was dark and damp and cool all around. The main passageway descended in ranks of volcanic rock and flowstone, flanked by mineral pillars and overhung with the ever-present stalactites. Every surface was wet with moisture: dripping from above, flowing in rivulets, pooling in the crystal hollows. 

Perfect conditions.

The Toa perched spiderlike on a steep bank of flowstone and felt the water obey her command, flowing backwards to root her feet and hands against the stone. Droplets of water vaporized silently from the eye-holes of her Ruru, Mask of Night Vision, as she scanned deeper into the cave-interior and noted how it opened into a tall gallery pocked with tunnels and crevices. It wasn’t hard to pick out the right one. To the left, and a bit lower down, the delicate columns were cracked and displaced, tumbled over. The creature’s lair was there.

"Chronicle this," she whispered suddenly, and the Matoran felt himself embodied again, seated on the floor of his hut, though his other senses did not conform to this. His hands grasped blindly for tablet and carver, and he began to etch letters as a flood of information poured into him: coordinates and route, intel and initial analysis. He understood very little. The words were technical–not for him to grasp. Nevertheless, he carved them down.

The Toa was preparing. She cycled through a series of masks: Zatth, Ramau, and others he did not recognize, then back to Ruru. She was well-equipped for the task, it seemed. Once she had verified her Kanohi, she released her hold on the rock and, without warning, slipped forward and out into the open air of the gallery. 

The Matoran made a choking noise, and his heartlight beat in his throat as he fell with her, clattering the tablets away as he spread himself on the floor of his hut, desperately telling his mind that he was not there, not there–

The fine chains which wrapped the Toa's gauntlets and upper torso chimed as they suddenly unwound, beaded with droplets, and wove themselves into a web of metal and water around her, and she was hurtling through dark air, swinging and spinning, and then it was over. Her feet made the lightest of sounds as she came to rest on the cold floor before the leftmost tunnel. Crouching, she pulled a small stone from a slot in her armor and cracked it gently against the hard surface, causing it to glow blue and illuminate the area dimly.

The floor of the cave was scored with claw-marks, and he felt her confusion as she examined them but found herself unable to make a positive identification. The chains retreated partially to their position on her armor, but she kept a length ready on each arm, winding the water-soaked links into a series of loops and snares. She swung one of the chain-loops idly, and he watched the lazy arc of it, heard it whizzing in the air–

Her face was before him again: "Chronicle this."

More technical information flooded him, and he struggled to retrieve the tablet, to keep up: location of the tunnel within the cave-system, estimations of the creature’s size, potential strategies of summoning or entrapment or...

She was already moving ahead, down the tunnel. Her Kanohi had shifted to a Zatth, a Mask of Summoning, and after a few moments there was a skittering noise as a small horde of scaly Stone Rats responded to her signal, running from every crack and hole in the stone and crowding around her feet. Another pause followed, and then she stamped lightly, causing them to flee; all except one, which stood obediently before her now, fully under the influence of her newly-switched Ramau, Mask of Rahi Control. She commanded the rodent to run ahead down the center of the tunnel, following a few bio behind it.

The tunnel curved leftward, and she kept to the right wall, her eyes straining against the dark. She could feel vaguely through the Stone Rat's senses, but she'd need to switch to Night Vision again soon, or risk another lightstone. The tunnel curved downward now, and the particular echo of the small claws scraping on stone told her that the tunnel was widening, opening up into a larger–

Crunch. She stumbled as something pierced the Stone Rat's body, sharply severing her link with it. In the split second after, she had summoned Ruru and was clinging spiderlike to the damp wall of the tunnel once more, skating ahead silently. All at once, she saw the place where the tunnel broadened into a larger cavern, saw the stain where the Stone Rat had been, and the scar in the rock, and the dark, rippling shape which half-covered the tunnel exit. She stopped abruptly. He could feel her excitement. Plan changed.

She dropped from the ceiling and, in one smooth motion, freed another lightstone, wrapped it in a chain, and flung it headlong past the creature's visible torso, out into the chamber. The stone struck the floor and flared to life, blindingly bright, and she'd already switched to Ramau, now that she could see, was already dashing out into the larger space, bending her mind upon the mind of the huge slithering, rippling creature and its hundreds of tiny legs as it recoiled from the light and whipped around toward her.

Two blunt, dark eyes faced her, and two mandibles clacked below them, but she poured her mental strength into the mask, and felt the centipedal beast flinch away, its segmented flanks clicking and vibrating...

It lunged at her in one fluid movement, and she cursed. The beast was insectoid after all, and the Ramau was only fully effective against endoskeletal Rahi. An amateur mistake.

She dodged sideways and flung her arms up, letting the smooth body pass by her. The pistons in her shoulders surged, and she brought her armored gauntlets down hard against the beast's flank, fists together, felt the protochitinous plates buckle, and the centipede screeched, twisted away. A host of bladed legs sheared against her own armor, and she wondered what possible purpose such a beast could serve in Mata's world.

The flexile body whipped around again, and the creature's head was above her now, descending. She backstepped, and the mandibles snapped shut just short of her face.

"Enough of that." She grunted as a jet of solid water pounded from her outstretched arms, carrying with it the lashing, slashing links of her chains. The force of the blast flung her away from the creature and smashed it against the stone wall, partly flooding the chamber. For a moment it was all legs and joints scrabbling against the slippery stone, struggling to right itself.

She landed lightly on her feet and smiled. The noise of her chains spinning up again echoed in the space, and a whirlwind of water rose around her. She tensed and prepared to spring forward, aiming for the head–

Her foot would not move. She glanced down. Webs...Clinging, transparent webs. Almost invisible. Her foot was snared in a lattice which stretched across the floor, and her leg too. She slashed at the webbing with her chains and felt it give way, letting her step forward again, ready to deliver the final blow.

That was when she realized that she was standing in the entrance of another cavern, one which opened on the first. She hadn't noticed it in the heat of battle. It was a larger space, and there more webs, just visible along the walls and ceiling. Bodies and masks wrapped in filmy thread. A Turaga-sized shape off to the left, next to the corpse of another centipedal Rahi, much bigger than the first, all mummified in transparent silk...

She whirled. The centipede had fled. She was just in time to catch the edge of a dark arachnoid shape before–

Stinger. Sharp, venom-tipped. Long, many-jointed limbs descended around her, and her chain sawed through one of them before the stinger drove forward, impossibly fast, right into–

The Matoran's body arched and thrashed upon the floor, and his screaming tore the air as the vision ended.

* * *

"How long has it been?"

"Twelve days, great Toa, since the last Toa came to us."

"Toa Vysa, yes. And she chose a Chronicler, I gather?"

"Yes...great Toa. She chose Uhzu, the stonemason."

"Show me to them. I must read their chronicle first."

The Matoran hesitated. Its mouth worked.

"Great Toa...the Chronicler is...is in his hut."

"Very well, show me where it is located."

"It is just here." The Matoran trudged a few steps up the central path and stopped beside one of the round structures. Toa Imjah reached the hut in two strides. The door was closed and the windows shut.

"He is inside?"

"Confirmed."

"Call him out."

"I cannot."

Imjah frowned. "Explain."

"He sealed the openings with mortar. Three days ago. We–"

"What in Mata's name?"

The Matoran winced. "Uhzu...He would not come out."

"Why would he do this?"

"He...he carved the tablets, great Toa, the...chronicle. After the first Toa arrived. He told us that she came to him in his rest-state, and told him many things. It was his duty."

"This is standard procedure..."

"He did not stop. Night and day, he carved, great Toa. Then he shut himself in, and–"

"Yes, but why?"

"He...day and night...he screamed..."

The Matoran flinched as the door splintered inward under Imjah's iron hand. Dried mortar crumbled away from the edges as it was pried open. The Toa stooped and went inside.

"By Mata..."

A mask lay in the center of the round space. The body was curled against the back wall of the hut, motionless. The Matoran peeked over the Toa's shoulder.

"Is he...?"

Imjah could still detect the faint glow of a heartlight.

"Still alive," he said. "But what is all this...?"

There were tablets everywhere, strewn about. Imjah picked up one after the other, squinting in the dimness. Most were carved on both faces, and recarved with different words, overlapping, and recarved yet again, until the round letters were illegible, and the stone was crumbling.

"Is it not the chronicle?" the Matoran asked.

"I've seen better."

Something else caught the Toa's eye now. In the dirt floor itself, there were words carved, and into the walls, same as the tablets. Words etched into the frame of the low worktable to the right. Words carved on every surface, over and over.

"We couldn't spare any more stone tablets, from the repairs," the Matoran offered sheepishly. "That was before he sealed the door."

"Well, it looks like he made do," Imjah replied, "but it's nonsense. Unreadable." He shook his head, retrieving the mask from its place on the floor. "I've heard reports of other Matoran suffering from such madness in the past," he continued, shuffling further into the space, toward the body. "It's a sad thing, but most can be made right."

"That is...good?"

"Yes, and what did Toa Vysa say when she returned from her task? Did the madness begin after she departed? I had hoped to meet her here, or on the path, since she was overdue. There was a report of a Rahi-attack, as I recall."

The Matoran stared. Its mouth worked again slowly.

"Great Toa...ah...Toa Vysa did not return."

"What?"

The mask that Imjah held was covered in etch-marks, he realized. Covered in carved words, like the tablets and the walls and the floor. The body of Uhzu itself was also covered in carved words, words scratched into his armor. The tips of his metal fingers were worn down.

"She did not return from the jungle. Only the Chronicler came back, to...to await."

A shiver went down Imjah's spine.

"Twelve days, you said, since Toa Vysa came here?"

"Confirmed."

"And three since he sealed himself in?"

"Yes."

Imjah's heartlight was beating fast. He rolled the body of Uhzu over and placed the mask bluntly onto the face. A moment passed, and then the heartlight began to beat stronger, stronger. Another moment, and the lungs kicked in, and the chest expanded. Servos whirred in the frame. The eyes fluttered, still dim. Imjah shook the Matoran.

"Wake up. Wake up!" The eyes glowed and focused. He made the attention-gesture, and they responded.

"Relay your chronicle," he commanded. "Relay your chronicle!"

"Chronicle," the dry voice rasped. "Chronicle this."

"Yes, your chronicle. Your–"

"CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS–"

The words began pouring out of the dry throat at full volume, and the body twitched, arms flailing, fingers grasping, grinding at Imjah's face, and then, when Imjah swatted them away, at any surface they could reach. Grinding and clawing and carving words, words, words.

Iron bands sprang from Imjah's armor and wrapped themselves around the Matoran's limbs, restraining him. The head shook to and fro, still frothing words, but silently now, out of breath, until another iron band curled up and stilled its movement. Imjah sat back on his heels. Perhaps it was simply madness, or a malfunction, after all. Perhaps...

"There is a link now between us," Imjah intoned, centering himself and focusing his mind in order to interface with the Matoran's memory. "I shall be with y–"

"Hello?" the Matoran said abruptly, and Imjah froze mid-sentence. The voice had changed slightly, and the eyes had lost focus. "Are you there?" it continued. "Please..."

"I'm...I'm here. Who–"

"It hurts. It hurts. I'm here, please!"

"Stop! Listen to me–"

"It's dark, and my eyes...my eyes are gone, I think, and I can't get free. My arms and legs, them too..."

"Where are you?"

"The chronicle-unit's failed, I fear. I've been trying, trying to reach out, but the venom...it's affected my focus. Couldn't keep the pain out of the link. I think I may have broken its mind. Is anyone there?"

Imjah focused harder, trying to calm his thudding heartlight.

"Ah! Get away! GET AWAY! I know you're there! Curse you, I'll tear your webs. No more stingers! I'll cleave you in half you...ah! No more! You've eaten...You've eaten so much. Stop, or there won't be anything left! GET AWAY! ARE YOU THERE? PLEASE! CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE THIS CHRONICLE–"

Imjah yanked the mask from the Matoran's face, and the voice cut off. The body fell to the ground.

A long moment passed, and Imjah's mind raced. Had it been a remnant of the previous link, or real-time communication, or something else? He picked up one of the nearby tablets absentmindedly, then looked sideways, out the door. The Matoran was still standing there, eyes wide.

"Quickly, where did Vysa go?" he said.

"North, great Toa, up the path, into the high jungle. There are caves there." The Matoran pointed.

Imjah's shoulders gouged the doorway as he emerged from the hut. He stood a moment in the street, hesitating, towering over the Matoran. It occurred to him that the Koro had fallen eerily quiet, and he realized that the rest of the villagers had gathered, in the street and between the huts. All of their eyes were on him, unblinking.

"North, you said?"

The Matoran nodded, pointing up the central path once more. The crowd parted abruptly to make a lane for him, as if at a signal. Imjah stepped forward, but then stopped.

"I will...I will require," he stammered, then started again: "Protocol requires a new Chronicler be selected, to...to record my descent."

The villagers stared at him. The only noises came from the jungle, on all sides. He looked at them, and the villagers looked back, eyes wide behind their masks. They did not move.

He was still holding one of the Chronicler's tablets, he realized. It felt very small and fragile in his iron grip, but somehow also very heavy. The mad words stared up at him out of the stone. Chronicle this pain chronicle this hurt chronicle this dark chronicle this eaten chronicle this help...

Gently, he set the tablet down on the ground.

The eyes of the Matoran did not leave the Toa as he made his way silently up the path, out of the village, into the jungle.

[diana-andraste]

Skull presented to Sarah Bernhardt by Victor Hugo, c. 1877

It was inscribed with verses on the theme of death that he had composed in her honor:

Squelette, qu'as tu fait de l'àme? Lampe, qu'as tu fait de la flame? Cage déserte, qu'as tu fait? De ton bel oiseau qui chantait? Volcan, qu'as tu fait de la lave? Qu'as tu fait de ton maître, esclave?

.

Skeleton, what have you done with the soul? Lamp, what have you done with the flame? ...

Ophelia, Sarah Bernhardt, 1880

[storydays]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write this scenario with John dory and pop/rock troll reader?

I've had this one scenario playing in my head for days! Poppy and the other rulers, wanting a day of celebrating each other's music, made a contest where a troll/Bergen/(whatever Vaneer and velvet are?) can come and sings for a crowd and the rulers as the judges decided who win. Brozone (mostly John) decided to participate for fun. After brozones song, John and the others join the crowd to watch the next singer, which is the pop/rock troll. John knows her from his adventuring days, she’s the one who got away, aka his true love. (idk why we might've left, maybe they were separated somehow)

John is immediately dumbfounded - because she's right there! After all these years! His brothers, not knowing their past, immediately start making fun of him for liking her as she began to sing on stage. Immediately, even alone, she's seems to wow the crowd even more than any of the previous songs.

As soon as she's done, John rushes back behindstage to meet her, his brothers + Poppy and Viva, all rushing after him. Reader greets John so happily, all the others are kinda… shocked? Even more so if reader decides to kiss John in greeting.

OOH I abosolutely LOVE the cliche sceanrios!!!!!!! LET"S DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

John Dory X Fem! Pop Star! True Love! Reader

Small World

-------------------------------------------------------------------

John Dory was ecstatic!

For a Hatchday surprise, his siblings' signed BroZone up for Trollstopia's 3rd Annual Cultural Fair. Anyone and everyone could sign up to perform in the talent show, but everything else was a totally free for all: The games, the different events, even the food(honestly, John Dory had no idea how Pop Trolls survive strictly on sweets, there was such a thing as too much sweets.) BroZone and the two Queens laughed and enjoyed each other as they tried different foods...although, John wasn't amused at the Rock Trolls' tiny replica of volcanic dumplings...wayy too hot.

Unfortunately the band couldn't decide on a song as usual, so they each picked a song from the year 2012, and decided to do a medley.

The siblings' cheered and clapped themselves on their back as they walked off stage from the cheering crowd when John Dory heard her.

Not his sunshine.

Pausing from where he was walking, the teal haired Troll turned around sharply as he watched a Troll wearing a midnight blue sundress dance around on stage, he could even see a yellow sunflower tucked behind her left ear.

"Come on, baby, let me see your face." He pleaded softly, staring intensely, not noticing his siblings', and the magenta eyed Trolls then walked over to where John was still frozen watching the performer dance.

"Oooh, JD's got a crush on (Y/N)!" Poppy teased, the other Trolls snickering, as they then started to make teasing remarks.

"When's the wedding?" Clay cackled as the others' made varying kissy faces and lewd gestures.

"It can't be her....it's not possible." John muttered softly, making the others' stop and closely watch him. "John?" Branch asked softly, as the Troll on stage then turned in their dance routine, bangs blowing in the wind, and slowly made eye contact with John Dory.

Blue eyes met (e/c).

You tripped slightly during your performance but quickly shook your head and smiled brighter before continuing your routine with a flourish.

YOU were there alive! But...you looked so sad even while performing.

As soon as you were off to the other side of the stage, you rushed to look for him as he for you, as he ignored his family's protest.

You rounded the corner, and stopped seeing him down the hall, and panted heavily as you both caught your breath.

After a moment of quite breathing, and wide eyed stares, you both observed the other. John looked so tired, and was sporting a new look, his hair shorter and he was wearing that brown coat you'd got him for a Christmas present one year, and there were more stress lines then last time you saw him.

John eyed the heavy bags under your eyes, and saw the sad gleam in your eyes. You didn't have that last time. You still wore the flower behind your left ear...that was one of the Valentine's present he gave you one year...it was a crystallized sunflower that you could wear forever without fear of it dying.

The world faded to the two of you as you took in the other's presence.

"Hey, sunshine."

Sobbing to yourself, you rushed into his waiting arms, kissing him as if you'd never kissed before, holding him as if he might fade away again.

"I've got you, and I'm never letting go again." He murmured softly, holding you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back, as he sobbed/laughed a

You both sat on the floor, holding each other tight and whispering sweet promises to each other.

John's family stood speechless, with a varitey of emotions on their faces, and they went to ask what the hell was going on, when Floyd stopped them, wiping a tear away. "Wait, guys..Clearly, they've been waiting for a long time. Let's give them a moment."

It really was a small world.

P2 or headcanons or both next? Hope I did you justice!

@vacayisland

[bethanythebogwitch]

Dry Beast Monday: chinchillas

For over a year now I've been doing weekly Wet Beast Wednesday posts where I do a deep dive on some aquatic animal, and you know what? I'm tired of it! This is now a dry beast blog!* And where better to start than an animal that can literally die if it gets wet? Beasts can't get much dryer than that. So strap in for the first Dry Beast Monday... Dmonday?... Drunday? Whatever, it's the chinchilla.

(Image: a pet chinchilla in a cage, standing upright on a wood platform that has been heavily chewed. It is a rotund mammal with a similar body plan to rabbits, featuring a large head distinct from a round body. Its hind paws are larger than the forepaws and have more distinct toes. Its eyes are almost completely black and it has a flat nose with very long whiskers. The ears are large, rounded, and mostly furless. The tail is bristly hair like a squirrel's and is curled up. Most of its fur is a dark grey but the fur on its underside is white. End ID)

Chinchillas are rodents (the best mammals, fight me) that are members of the family Chinchilladae along with the viscachas. There are two living species of chinchilla: the long-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla lanigera) and the short-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla chinchilla, formerly Chinchilla brevicaudata). The two species can produce sterile hybrid offspring. Domesticated chinchillas are descended from the long-tailed chinchilla. All chinchillas are medium-sized rodents with powerful back legs, long whiskers, large ears, and extremely dense fur. In comparison, the short-tailed chinchilla is larger and has a shorter tail, thicker and less distinct neck and shoulders, and smaller ears. The most famous feature of chinchillas is their fur. At about 20,000 hairs per square centimeter, chinchillas have the second densest fur of any mammal, second only to sea otters. Each hair follicle grows up to 50 hairs, compared to human follicles, which only grow 1. The fur is famous for being incredibly soft, often described as velvety. If you've never felt a chinchilla its really hard to describe just how soft they are. The fur is so dense because Chinchillas live in the highlands of the Andes mountains where it gets very cold. The fur is used for insulation and even with it being so thick, chinchillas still need to bask in the sun to warm themselves up. The fur is actually the reason why chinchillas can't get wet. Their fur is so dense that wanter can't evaporate easily, instead remaining around long enough for fungus to start growing in the fur. This can lead to a lot of different skin conditions and infections that can be lethal. When chinchillas bathe, they take dust baths. By rolling around in volcanic ash, the can work the ash into their fur, where it absorbs oils, moisture, and other contaminants. This keeps the fur clean and healthy. Domestic chinchillas need specially made dust for their baths. It cannot be substituted with sand or other materials. Chinchillas can release chunks of their fur in order to escape from predators, leaving the predator holding nothing but a tuft of hair while the chinchilla runs away. This is called fur drop and in domestic chinchillas it can be a sign of mishandling or stress. Wild chinchillas have grey fur, but domestic breeds have been bread to have other colors of fur, including white and black. Chinchillas can't sweat, which isn't a problem in their natural habitat, but is for domestic chinchillas. The only way for them to cool down is to expose their ears (which are hairless and heavily vascularized) to wind. Chinchillas in temperatures at or above 26 degrees C (80 F) are at risk of having heat strokes. Daytime in the Andes can exceed those temperatures, so chinchillas hide in burrows during the day. Chinchillas are very skilled at jumping, able to leap up to 1.8 meters (6 ft). Their hind legs are longer than the forelegs and provide propulsion when walking or jumping. The toes has fleshy pads called papillae that help them grip onto surfaces. Chinchillas live in arid, rocky conditions and are skilled at leaping between rocks. The tails act like rudders, providing stability and direction when leaping. The front feet are capable of gripping and picking up objects. Females tend to be larger than the males, but there is otherwise little visual difference between the sexes. Wild short-tailed chinchillas can reach 38 cm (including tail) and 800 grams while wild long-tailed chinchillas can reach 26 cm (including tail) and 450 grams. Domestic chinchillas can get up to twice the size of their wild relatives.

(Image: a wild long-tailed chinchilla sitting under a rock. Its body plan is the same as the pet chinchilla above, but its fur is a lighter grey End ID)

(Image: a short-tailed chinchilla in captivity. It has a less distinct neck than the long-tailed chinchilla, making it look like its head merges with the body. Its tail is shorter than that of the long-tailed chinchilla, making up about 1/5th of its length as compared to the long-tailed chinchilla's 1/3rd. End ID)

Chinchillas are social animals that live in colonies called herds that can reach up to 100 members. Females dominate the herds and can be aggressive toward each other, though physical fights are rare. The herd cooperates when finding food, always having at least one member acting as a lookout to spot predators while the rest feed. They communicate vocally, with 10 types of vocalizations on record for. Social behaviors include grooming, playing, and friendly nibbling of each other's ears. Pet chinchillas should never be kept alone. They should be in same-sex groups of at least 2. Chinchillas are crepuscular, active mostly at dawn and dusk. During the day and night, they are usually found hiding in burrows or crevices between rocks, where they can avoid predators and high or low temperatures. They are primarily herbivores, but will supplement their diets with insects and other bugs. Most of their diet consists of grasses, seeds, and succulents and cacti. Wild ones almost never drink water, instead getting all of their hydration from their food. Chinchilla digestive systems are fairly specialized to their food. Domestic chinchillas need special-formulated food and can only have wooden chew toys form certain species of wood. Fresh or dried fruit is good for a treat, but should not be a regular part of their diet as they have a lot of sugar. As with all rodents, the incisors grow continuously through the animal's entire life and need to be worn down by chewing on things.

It is surprisingly hard to find good-quality images of wild chinchillas. Most of the time when you search for wild chinchilla pictures what you get are either domestic chinchillas or viscachas.

(Image: a trail-cam shot of two wild long-tailed chinchillas. The photo is i black-and-white. One is in the foreground on all fours while another is on its hind feet in the background, standing on a rock. The terrain is rocky and the chinchillas are next to a shrub. The camera's light makes their eyes appear to glow white. End ID)

(Image: a wild short-tailed chinchilla that is part of a relocation effort. Its fur is light grey with darker patches. A gloved human hand is reaching in from the right side of the image. End ID)

Male chinchillas appear to be fertile year-round, but females only enter estrus during the winter, from May to November in their natural habitat. Gestation takes around 120 days in both species and both species typically have two litters a year (a low rate for a small mammal). Offspring (called kits) are born well-developed, with fur and open eyes, and can run as soon as they are born. They nurse for 6-8 weeks before being weaned. 1-6 kits are born at a time, with 2 being the usual number. Chinchillas are monogamous, mating for life. Either partner can initiate mating, which they do so with hair-pulling. Unusually for rodents, male chinchillas do provide care for their offspring. Members of the same herd will help each other with parenting. Female chinchillas have been known to adopt the kits of other females who can't nurse due to health issues. Females are usually dominant due to their size. Chinchillas become sexually mature at around 8 months. In the wild they can live for 10 years, which is doubled in captivity.

(Image: an adult domestic chinchilla with a juvenile. The juvenile is smaller than the adult, with proportionally larger head and limbs and proportionally smaller tail. The two of them are nuzzling their snouts together. End ID)

The name chinchilla comes from the Chincha people of the Andes, who hunted chinchillas for their fur and meat. This hunting increased vastly after European colonization of South America. Between hunting and trapping, both species of chinchilla were brought to near extinction and vastly reduced their native range. Both species are now only found in Chile and have been granted legal protection. The IUCN switched their classifications between Vulnerable, Endangered, and Critically Endangered for a while. As of 2016, both species are classified as Endangered, upgraded from Critically Endangered as their populations have seen some improvement. Poaching, both for fur and capture for sale as pets, is still a large threat to wild chinchillas. Their close cousins, the viscachas, are doing much better as they were not hit as hard by the fur trade. The domestication of the long-tailed chinchilla is thanks to Mathias F. Chapman, an engineer who became fascinated with the animals after meeting a native person who was trying to sell one. He ended up getting permission from the government of Chile to capture several and import them to the USA. It took him 3 years to catch enough that he considered suitable for breeding, 11 in total. He then spend over a year gradually bringing them down from the highlands to sea level, giving them plenty of time to acclimate to the lower altitude. Once in the USA, Chapman started breeding his chinchillas in a farm in California, though he had to deal with medical problems and a thief stealing half of his stock. Eventually, though, his experiment paid off. The vast majority of all domesticated chinchillas today are descended from those original 11, brought to the states in 1923. Chinchillas today are raised in captivity for their fur, for use as laboratory animals, and as pets. While both species are raised in captivity for fur, the domesticated chinchilla is descended from the long-tailed chinchilla and short-tailed chinchillas apparently do not make as good pets.

(Image: a black-and-white photo of Mathias F. Chapman, a white man with a large nose wearing a shirt and tie. A chinchilla is standing on his leg and looking at the camera while he looks at the chinchilla. End ID)

* April Fools

[andr0nap]

welcome to Hell Froze Over!

be glad youre not there :)

we have:

Ice Spike Regions areas covered in towering ice spikes. traveling through those regions is risky due to falling debris and strong winds.

Worm Tunnel Cities some cities/towns are built within the ancient tunnels of ice burrowing worms. theyre generally warmer thanks to their shape, which helps with even heat distribution.

The average snowstorm (and a crash-site city) sometimes also referred to as "the wrath of God", for uh.. obvious reasons (theyre big and scary and sooo deadly)

The Hunting Grounds general name of areas with high Icebreaker worm activity along the equator. the ice is much thinner there compared to the rest of the planet.

Ribbon Valleys places named after their characteristic striped icebergs.

Geothermal Areas (with stalker and flying worms) so far only two have been discovered. theyre the only places where the ice has melted enough for the ground to be visible. unfortunately theyre also known for being worm hotspots, thus hard to access.

+ some planetary scribbly stuff & ramblings below the cut

the planet is a frozen wasteland on the surface, covered in a thick ice shell that thins around the equator, with liquid water and a (possibly) volcanic seafloor deep below. theres very little land right under the ice and the planet would be a water world with few islands scattered about if not for the extremely low temperatures.

there are a lot of unknowns about whats going on below the ice since humanity doesnt have the equipment for that kind of research and everyone is too busy trying to survive the cold.

Hell Froze Over doesnt really have seasons like our planet does since its axial tilt is minimal. instead it has pseudo-seasons caused by its elliptical orbit.

its either cold or colder. the highest recorded temperature in the habitable zone was -34°C during the "summer" season. during winter it can drop all the way down to -90°C.

[amnhnyc]

Did you know that three of the most catastrophic volcanic eruptions in geological history occurred at Yellowstone National Park? 🌋Located in northwestern Wyoming, Yellowstone’s supervolcano is currently dormant: Its last powerful eruption occurred approximately 600,000 years ago. Yet, this sleeping giant is still active. At Yellowstone today, geothermal activity rumbles beneath the Earth, fueling geysers and hot springs— including the Grand Prismatic Spring, pictured here. Its rings of striking color represent different microbial communities. The bacteria that live in these near-boiling waters endure temperatures of up to 175˚F (79˚C). Entire food chains depend on these microorganisms. Colorful cyanobacteria cover the wet rocks; flies consume the bacteria; mites live on the flies; and the flies are eaten by predatory wolf spiders. Photo: Carsten Steger, CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons #nature #nationalparks #amazingplanet #naturephotography #landscape https://www.instagram.com/p/CoS4ieXvwaW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=