on the shores of the cosmic ocean

ASTROLOGICAL ANATOMY

♈ ARIES // Birthed from deep, volcanic heat, and drenched in gasoline. It takes but a spark to light your fuse. Hair a frenzy of dancing flame, and eyes of glowing ember. Bones charred black with skin like wax. Destructive beauty – a force to be reckoned with. The Earth is scorched by a single glance. And from your trail of ash, life will grow. We could use a fresh start.

♉ TAURUS // You sprout from the ground; mossy soles forever rooted in the dirt. The higher you reach, the longer your limbs become. An armor of tree bark and hair like the branches of a flourishing weeping willow. You wear flowers on your head and thorns around your neck. Songbirds sing from your throat. Wooden legs hold firm – unyielding. This is a good place to stand.

♊ GEMINI // Eyes like stained glass windows. Skin of paper mâché, as thin and light as the book pages used to piece you together. Painted to match the sky – the brightest shades of yellow and blue. Hollow bones clatter like wind chimes. Whether you like it or not; the most gentle of breezes will sweep you away. They carry you like a kite. Windy days are like that.

♋ CANCER // Bones of petrified wood drifted ashore, tied loosely together with kelp. Your sea-weathered skin, a milky white – bathed in moonlight and embroidered with little shards of sea glass. Your hair caked in sand and salt. Eyes of pearl and teeth to match; a mermaid with no scales. Your heavy chest heaves with the tides. The feeling is mutual.

♌ LEO // Your heart is plated gold; blood is liquid silver. Diamond eyes with lashes flecked in their dust – blindingly glittering each time they flutter open. Titanium teeth ground to points. Your shining copper locks soak up every sun beam. Bronze skin is searing hot. You are radiance that’s prone to rust. Staying polished is essential.

♍ VIRGO // A spine that reads like a stack of old books. Wooden bones that creek like old stairs. You drift like dust filtered through sunlight into all of the empty spaces: cluttered cupboards and neglected gardens. Thoughts sprout from your scalp. They grow as ferns. Skin made of linen and lace, stained the color of spilled tea. Solitude keeps its own company, I suppose.

♎ LIBRA // Symmetry from head to toe, with pink petal lips and china doll cheeks. Dandelions seeds float from your mouth, carried by every whispered breath. Hair of honey and skin of silk. You speak in wafts of perfumes – sweet and light – laced with just a hint of arsenic. The balance you hold is a fragile thing, love. Handle with care.

♏ SCORPIO // Hips like a hurricane; a heart to match. It beats in claps of thunder; cracking ribs and shooting shock waves up lightning rod bones – electrocuting every nerve and fiber. Only goosebumps tell of the storm brewing beneath. Silver raindrops hang on your lips like stars in the sky. Mirror eyes show others their true reflection. Better they see themselves than you.

♐ SAGITTARIUS // A map of the world is etched deep into your leather hide, like runes carved on ancient temples. Your hair is made of fireworks; all sparks and color and smoke. Lungs full of the same. Bones; the antlers of wild animals. Tendons and joints stretch like rubber bands. You bound and leap and run faster than all. You can flee, but the desire to never will.

♑ CAPRICORN // Marble skin forged from the thickest layers of the Earths crust; embedded with raw crystals. Iron bones, and marrow teaming with valuable gems and minerals. Blood is thick, and molten hot. Your spinal cord is a mountain range. Your movement like tectonic plates. This body was built for efficiency. It will withstand the test of time.

♒ AQUARIUS // Prismatic eyes and hair of tangible starlight. A cosmic kind of beauty. Translucent skin like frosted glass; you can see galaxies swirling faintly under the surface. A heart of foreign origins, and a surreal language few can comprehend. Your lips are crusted with dry paint. Your heart bleeds in water colors. Not everyone gets it.

♓ PISCES // Seaweed hair that always floats as though underwater. Your bones are a patchwork quilt of broken seashells – a mosaic of the ocean. Those toes have never known the taste of the shore. Lids conceal crystal eyeballs. Your lash-line permanently adorned by shimmery tears. They fall as bubbles, and ease the sorrows of strangers. Dreaming is reserved for the ones asleep.

“The surface of the Earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean. On this shore, we’ve learned most of what we know. Recently, we’ve waded a little way out, maybe ankle-deep, and the water seems inviting. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return, and we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We’re made of star stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.” 
― Carl Sagan

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“Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still. We have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars.” - Carl Sagan

Wanderers is a vision of humanity’s expansion into the Solar System, based on scientific ideas and concepts of what our future in space might look like, if it ever happens. The locations depicted in the film are digital recreations of actual places in the Solar System, built from real photos and map data where available. Watch the breathtaking short film on Vimeo.

Shance Fluff Week | What Lies Beyond the Morning

**For @shancefluffweek​ !! | Day Two - Sea/Stars (Myth!AU)

AO3 Link: What Lies Beyond Morning

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In a child’s tale, handed down through the lineage of elders that greedily hungered for the divine art of storytelling, there was once a mighty black lion with the red wings of the sun.

The lion was a fast and a fearsome beast, yet to all who he blessed with his presence, they found a curious comfort; for such a large dark brute of a creature, the lion’s kindness knew no bounds, always giving to the people as they needed, whether it be for the sake of a village’s welfare or to bless the union between two lovers.

Keep reading

Back home, Lance loved to spend Saturday nights stretched out on a blanket on the beach, watching the night sky stretch on for eons overhead. The theatre seating in the planetarium reclined, sort of, so it was close enough. Nothing could replicate the sharp, salty smell of Varadero beach, or the invigorating rush of the waves hitting the shore in a fine mist that tasted like the ocean on his tongue, but having Keith’s warm palm pressed against his more than made up for what he was missing. He used to see the stars as music notes scattered like seashells above him, humming along to cosmic melodies that connected him to the world–now, even though the stars were just pinprick projections of light from a ball-thing in a box, the songs felt like home. The sound of Keith’s breathing, quiet and steady beside him, felt like home.

Somehow Lance found himself staring at the way the artificial starlight painted streaks of blue and gold in Keith’s (still dumb and stupidly long) hair and eyelashes instead of his musical constellations.


Another excerpt from A Cradle of Flesh and Bone, because I’m too tired to write something new today. Happy Lance Month!

Somewhere Where the Stars Kisses the Ocean (Blaymora)

“We began as wanders, and we are wanderers still we have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean. We are ready at last to set sail for the stars.”

⁃ Carl Sagan

~•~

You might know the love story of Blaytz, the original Paladin of the Blue Lion and Marmora, the Galra servant he flirted with at the feast.

But what if there was one small detail you haven’t heard about in this story? And that one all detail is: They had a child together, a baby boy, and his name is Kolivan.

However, what would happen if the evil Zarkon finds out about Kolivan and wanted to take the child away from them? Will Blaytz and Marmora protect their child or sacrifice everything for their son?

To the love that lives inside my heart,
you chose a terrible home.
Tell me, did you know about the faulty foundation
before you arrived?
Did you know that I am ¼th part
tall cathedral;
that some days I will love like stain-glass mosaic
windows, all of my secrets lined up in reds and yellows and
blues so beautiful
you don’t even notice that the glass is dirty.
Other days I will love like equal parts abandoned asylum
and stuttering apology.
Trembling hands and closing doors of a hospital room
heart that is best known for its wrongful deaths and its
letting go, and how I practice on the ones I love most.
With every fading footstep, I have learned
to swallow more easily. To run over the names written on my
lips like smeared lipstick to
fingertips. I wonder what it must feel like
to love a woman with a padlock ribcage.
To the love that lives inside my heart,
I’m sorry.
I can only hope that one day you will sprout veins,
vessels carrying the fear that was born inside my body
long before you came into the picture,
I can only hope that one day you pull it taunt from one edge
of my body to the other, like thinning,
hungry ocean wave, tugging at the shore of me.
Spread so thin that it finally breaks.
To the love that lives inside my heart,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that you have to feel the weight of me. The
rough of me. Feel the
saltwater on sharp tongue and try to make something beautiful
out of the blood on your hands.
Forgive me.
I am still learning how acceptance is done
right. That a flicker of love will not always spark into the
belly of a beast but emerge from catastrophe,
the birth of cataclysmic circumstance. Cosmic
explosion inside empty, birdcage hands.

Sometimes the arrival of an unexpected guest is exactly
what it takes to remind you that the sacrifice of letting go
is sometimes necessary to be able to feel the
explosion of stars inside
your palms and not get burned.

To the love that lives inside my heart,
You are more than welcome to stay here.

—   d-apres-moi, “To The Love”