for the night is dark

Aurora, Luna and comet.

Shortly after sunset, whose glow is still visible in the background, Ingólfur Bjargmundsson snapped this image of the Aurora Borealis and comet Panstarrs. The comet is visible as a smudge above the sunset and below the right hand streamer of glowing charged particles that channel the energy of the solar wind down towards the surface. Barring the stars all the light in this image derives from Sol.

This image is part of the Astronomy Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, London.

Loz

Image credit: Ingólfur Bjargmundsson

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Stream of northern lights dances over Lofoten Islands, Norway

anonymous asked:

Could you do one of Neil recovering? :)

This was going to be cute and fluffy, but then something dark possessed me… it was probably sleep deprivation

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE

Being bedridden is the worst thing for a runner, and with two fractured ribs, a shattered forearm, and more bruises and cuts than he can count, that’s exactly what Neil is. His upper body took the brunt of the collision, but it’s his legs that ache. Every muscle twinges with the desire to burn. It feels like the need ingrains itself all the way down to his bone, making his toes twitch to get up and move.

It gets worse when Coach puts him on injury reserve. He’s banished to the bench to watch his teammates run drills and scrimmages. His nerves feel like a livewire waiting for that single spark to send fire scorching through his veins. His whole body thrums with impatience to get back on that court. It leaves him a mess of bubbling and warring emotions that clog his chest and leave scarred destruction in their wake.

After his first game not playing, Neil is intercepted by a tall man in a suit in the parking lot. The conversation is brief, but the threat is clear. Neil barely makes it to the car before his whole world tilts. His vision starts to blur around the edges, and he’s only vaguely aware of his hands trembling at his sides. He’s not sure if he says anything, the ringing in his ears too loud, but he must make some sort of sound because Andrew is there. He crowds Neil back against their new car, a strong and solid weight coaxing air back into Neil’s lungs. It calms Neil down, but it doesn’t chase the shadows away, just keeps them at bay for the time being. He still feels dread settle in his stomach like a cement block and unease digs its claws into his throat until there’s a lump he has to swallow around. He rests his head against the window as they drive back to their apartment and closes his eyes against the dark clouds brewing inside him.

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Squares by Peter Rea
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