soar into the sun

Appearing like a winged creature poised on a pedestal, this object is actually a billowing tower of cold gas and dust rising from a stellar nursery called the Eagle Nebula. The soaring tower is 9.5 light-years high, about twice the distance from our Sun to the next nearest star

js

As summer comes to an end, think of this dragonfly.
It lived underwater for the last two to three years in a completely different form. This year, it crawled out of my pond, shed its skin, transformed, let the sun harden its new wings and soared with the grace of a ballet dancer into the sky.
Hopefully, sometime this summer, it laid its eggs back into the pond it was born in. As the weather cools it begins its farewell flights around my backyard.
Reborn, rejoice, renew.


(rights reserved, leave credits * please reblog but not to nsfw 18+)

                                                   𝓛𝓮 𝓢𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓵


My latest illustration, finally done! x_x It wasn’t really that hard to do once you get hold on the shading. (My finals are coming save me)
Here’s Soar in his prior form! I like to think the altar dedicated to him has this drawing as a mural painting. What a majestic lion :D


                                        ~ zoomed in details ~

4

archangel memes [4]: wings [requested by @soulllesssam]

The wings are the most crucial and sensitive part of the anatomy of an angel. All of them have different patterned or colored feathers, and each of the angels wear their wings with vanity. If the wing is stroked or touched in a particular place, a wave of pleasure will rush down their entire being and may physically weaken them due to how sensitive they are. It is, in fact, an angel’s weak spot. If cut off and or destroyed, they may not grow back, and the latter might cause severe emotions, such as depression, anxiety, and rage which will last a lifetime and will gravely damage the brain if continued grieving over them.

Michael’s wings are dark, charcoal – and contrary to popular to belief, black and white are two colors that angels are easily drawn to, therefore many of their species envy his wings. Lucifer’s are as white as snow and as soft as a fleece blanket. When banished from Heaven and sent to the cage, the flames in hell gave his wings a more blushy color. Gabriel’s wings are golden, soft, lucid, and reflect the light from the sun when he soars. Raphael’s are umber brown, and given that they have always been such a mysterious type, they had never really been the type to show off their captivating wings.

Beautiful Nature Metaphors

Check sun & moon !!

Aries - You are a butterfly soaring through a field of flowers, the sun shining on your nearly broken wings.

Taurus - You are the forest, quiet and never ending but still full of life and adventure.

Gemini - You are the clouds, masking your inner rain with purity and humor.

Cancer - You are the ocean, your waves carrying the weight of the current but still bringing life along with it.

Leo - You are the mountains, climbing high in the sky and so steep that only the bravest dare to explore you.

Virgo - You are thunderstorms, somehow calm but with an underlying determination that strikes fear in many.

Libra - You are a field of flowers, striking and charming, but continuously picked apart until there is nothing left of you.

Scorpio - You are a waterfall, a tremendous mixture of power and peace, and often hidden away, only truly seen by those who desire you enough to risk themselves.

Sagittarius - You are the wind, exciting and enthusiastic, sometimes to the point of becoming dangerous.

Capricorn - You are lightning strikes, electric and powerful, never failing to hit the ground with a step heard and seen by all.

Aquarius - You are the rushing river, eccentric, beautiful, and containing more feelings and inhabitants than is seen by the outside world.

Pisces - You are a valley, lovely and quiet, containing yards and yards of space for new experiences and curiosity.

anonymous asked:

When You Need A Prompt: Planets think about love

MERCURY. Don’t worry if it feels like you
could go up in flames. To move inches
from the light is always a risk, but look
at that star, burning gold, reaching out
through chaos and silence to touch you.

VENUS. You don’t have to sing along with
everyone else’s orbital path. You are a
guiding glow in the dawn. Dance with
brightness and love will come running,
swifter than tides to shore and twice
as full, a thousand times more tender.

EARTH. Yes, love lives here. Say it again.
Love, the blackbird with a beak full of honeycomb. Love, the painting of a moon-
lit cathedral. Love, how his words paint
such a sweetness in you that you soar.
All of this, here, alive and sun-kissed.

MARS. It’s okay to blush bright red. You’ve
seen his shadows and he’s seen your dust
storms. Laugh with him, not like the battle
was victorious but like there was never any
battle in the first place. Speak unarmored.

JUPITER. What’s love if not unmistakable,
so large only a sky could contain it. He
takes your hands in his and the gravity of it
makes every moon ache with want.

SATURN. Hold him close, closer than soil
holds wheat, closer than wedding bands
hold shine, closer than clouds hold clouds.

URANUS. When you lie on your side next
to him at night, does the frost just outside
your windows feel far away? Does night
glisten with how perfectly slow it moves?
Is his smile its own small heaven?

NEPTUNE. Love has been here since the
beginning, even when no one else saw it.
And love will be here with its swirling blue
mouth long after we ourselves become
unseen. What you make with each other
is a freshwater spring blooming in a forest,
crisp and glittering in the light. Go on. Drink.

The Signs as Beautiful Places

Aries: Rocky Mountains covered in a light layer of sparkling snow. Yellow sunlight on grey rock. Cold, scentless air.


Taurus: A meadow full of yellow wildflowers. Blue skies filled with tall, fluffy clouds. A light breeze.


Gemini: Volcanic fields. Bright green foliage against black ash. The pink skies of the setting sun.


Cancer: A serene forest in winter. A blanket of snow over fallen trees and dormant grass. Still air.


Leo: A freshwater lake in the summertime. Calm, deep blue water and a clear, blue sky.


Virgo: A grove of flowering trees. Pastel petals drifting through the air on a harsh wind. The smell of cherry blossoms and fresh mulch.


Libra: Rolling fields of golden grain. Long, wispy clouds and a rising sun on the horizon.


Scorpio: A rocky beach with white, crashing waves. Strong wind and dark, fast moving clouds. The clean smell of the sea.


Sagittarius: A forest of Sequoia trees. Red bark and red earth. Swaying green leaves. The sound of a stream nearby.


Capricorn: A sandy, tropical beach. Bright sun with no wind. Soaring temperatures and cool water.


Aquarius: An immature forest at dusk. The sound of leaves crashing as they are stirred by the wind. The haze of evening fog.


Pisces: The open sea during a thunderstorm. High waves and brilliant bolts of lightening. Quiet thunder.

The lion roams the open plains, its head held high, its footsteps sure. Sunlight glitters off its golden fur, creating a radiance unlike any other. The heat is warm and welcomed. The lion treks through the grass and the dirt, lifting its head to watch the birds circling in the sky. It pauses, gives chase, and lingers for a moment as it considers returning home. But it does not. There is always a new chase, the lion knows. A new adventure, something exciting just over the horizon. The lion tips its head back in a roar. And then it steps forward.

The badger pokes its head from the entrance of its burrow. The morning air is edged by the sharp chill of last night’s frost, but the badger does not feel the cold. It continues out of its hole and into the small field of frozen grass and flowers. There’s something beautiful about them, the ice glittering along the petals, their stillness as they’re frozen in standstill. The sun will come soon, the badger knows, the sun will come and the ice will melt. Then, their beauty will be different, but neither better nor worse. Beauty it knows, is an evolving thing, and there is no one way for an object to show it. They will still be the flowers it knows and loves, they will still be beautiful. It digs its claws into the earth. And it waits for the sun to shine.

The eagle soars through the sky, held aloft by the drafts of air that ruffle its feathers. Up here, the air is cold, thin, but the eagle does not mind. Here is a place for thinking, a place where trouble is few and far between and answers are easy to find. The eagle scans the land below, trained eyes catching on the things that others would never notice: a flower blooming, the melting of snow, a cricket beginning its song. From up here, everything is so small, so trivial, so simple. Everything is merely a single piece, a little part of the world. Up here, the eagle feels as though it can truly understand. And so it flies onward.

The snake slips through the shadows, unnoticed by the ones who pass it by. The scales on its back shift as they’re dappled with with different arrays of light, and the snake allows itself to rest for a moment in a patch of sunlight. Somewhere nearby, it can hear water running, the soft gentle hiss of shifting pebbles and hidden currents. The sun beats against its back, and it finds that it enjoys the peace of the moment. The warmth, the running water, the concrete moment in time before a future where everything can change. But then…the snake is no stranger to change. It sheds its skin, it moves from light to shadows. For all that it loves this warmth, this peace, it knows that change will only make it stronger. Wind rustles through the trees above its head. And it slips away. 

There are dreamers. and there are realists in this world. You’d think
the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find
the realists, but more often than not, the opposite is true.
You see, the dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring
close to the sun. And the realists? We
without the dreamers
they might not ever get off the ground.
—  Cameron Tucker, Modern Family

God, aksjgasg, Ao3 is a bitch ok xD

HERE IT IS!!!!! God, it feels so good to be posting this! @aniscribbles and I have been so hyped about this you have no idea, like apsfjgafh…. Anyways, it’s here, in its glory, our love child: The Rift. 

This is a Dragon Age Inquisition AU, and it’s tagged as both fandoms, but the characters, for the most part, will be Voltron. Some of the original DA:I characters may make cameos, but we will get there when we get there. ;D


Summary: After the Conclave blew up in everyone’s face, the whole world went to shit. Lance didn’t know what to make of it, but there was no way he would join the Inquisition to become their tool. Sure, he could close the rifts now, by some miracle - accident in his humble opinion - and he was doing his best to close them on his own. Trouble was, they were getting worse as time went on. After being tossed by a shade, he was seriously reconsidering doing this by himself. Needless to say, he got lucky that a cute Seeker came to his rescue after getting caught in a dragon’s nest; the only problem was that cute Seeker was trying his damnedest to recruit him into the Inquisition.

Word Count: 2456

Ao3

Chapters: [1]

Art: [1]


Lance clapped the dirt off his hands as he straightened up. He was almost done collecting all of the elfroot he would need to replenish his potion stores. After taking on the last rift, he had depleted most of it. Those demons were the nastiest things he has ever had to deal with in a long time, ever since getting the Mark. That had been a painful experience.

He crept along the cliff face, keeping an eye out for more elfroot. If he was lucky he would stumble upon sprouts of royal elfroot. That specific plant was a more potent species, and the potions he could create from it made his life a lot easier when he was dealing with a nasty rift. Like the one the other day. Lance was still pretty sore from being tossed around by a shade. At least he knew what healing magic he could glean from his mother’s grimoire before the sky opened and he was left alone. That had been about five years ago. There had been a call for all mages of any representation, whether it be a circle mage or an apostate like himself and his mother to attend a meeting with the chantry.

And boy, that went really well.

Keep reading

I really give credit to those who change for the better, who realize their own negative or toxic way of thinking has prevented themselves from moving forward or has prevented others from realizing their own potentials. True confidence does not come from knocking down other people but by encouraging those people to strive to be better.

No matter what happened in the past, you can change. You can improve. You can be better than the person you were yesterday and you can make a difference in your life. The ball is in your court.

And remember your dreams are valid; don’t make anyone feel they have the right to keep you from soaring too high into the sun.

It’s your flight, if they were so concerned about you getting burned they would have giving you sun block before you ventured out into the unknown. Only insecure people will try to clip your wings, before you even had the chance to know how far you could fly.

—  Joanna Strafford
There are dreamers and there are realist in the world. You’d think the dreamer would find the dreamers and the realist find the realist, but more often than not, the opposite is true. You see, the dreamers need the realist to keep them from soaring too close to the sun. And the realist? Well, without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground.
of dusk and dawn and a love beyond

Summary: The King of Day, Victor, drops flowers to the Ruler of Night, Yuuri, to express his love for him, but they are always returned, as Yuuri thinks that they’re dropped by mistake. 

Victor cries and plucks wishes off the petals every time, remembering the time when once, they had been together.

based off this au by @beanpots

ao3

There are only two times that they meet every cycle, two times that their realms blur at the borders and the rulers walk past each other as one sigil rises where the other one falls. Dusk and dawn are the most precious times of day to Victor, because that’s the only opportunity he has to glimpse the elusive Ruler of Night.

The boundary separating them is not one that is easily described. No land can be night and day at the same time, no land can host them both together. So Victor waits for the moments that he throws the Sun into the heavens and the moments he calls it back to earth, for that is the only time that Night and Day blur and they can be together.

Keep reading

I don’t know. You want to think of boys with golden ringlets and head wounds that seep flowers, and you want to think of tragic fire and glistening vulnerable skin, and you want to think of delirious blue skies and endless green valleys for your love to nestle into. You just have this. You just have wires and pipes that vomit smoke and the restless hum of traffic and maybe, if you’re lucky, a moment on the balcony where the light is just right and steam is rolling off of his tea and your pot of petunias is shaking in the wind and you think that this sliver of time was made for you, you specially, this precious Aleph of a second into which the universe narrows and focuses and reflects, a coin for you to keep in your breast pocket, where his hair is uncombed and his relaxed smile clothes you in perfect warmth. A glinting reminder of the divine. And then life will go on.

You have to know that.

There are no modern heroes soaring into the sun. There are no living gods in silver sandals. There is only the small, hollow tap of a moth butting the bulb of your beside lamp. There is only the grooved face of a man buying gel sole inserts and nicotine gum.

You have to know that.

Planes having sex.

there are dreamers and there are realists in this world
  • You'd think the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find the realists, but more often than not the opposite is true.
  • You see, the dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring too close to the sun: Pisces, Aries, Gemini, Scorpio, Cancer, Leo
  • And the realists, well, without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground: Virgo, Libra, Sagittarius, Taurus, Capricorn, Aquarius
become the sun.

drabble: lightning era

word count: 933

the sundown series. night three.

there were many things harry wanted to leave behind, after the war. there were so many times when his heart would just plummet at the sight of an object, robbed of its use.

there were too many things that would cause of rush of tears with just a second look.

because the war took its toll on the wizards and witches, and most fled away without batting an eyelash.

but the ones who stayed didn’t really stay because too many things had changed and home wasn’t really home anymore.

a look at ron would remind harry of the countless times his best friend had risked his life for him, back to the days of being eleven again— and the feeling of being eleven never really left harry. the undeniable emotion of loneliness crept in and somehow harry felt like he had lost everything even when he knew he had nothing in the first place. and some days ron would offer a sandwich or a cup of tea to his best friend while in their months of being twenty, and all of a sudden there’s this pain in ron’s chest because everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at hermione would remind ron of how everyone had fought through their battles and found a shed of light along the way, just enough to reach the end of their journey. he wondered what guided fred into that light— what had held fred with that much love; enough for him to get away? but hermione was there to comfort him, to slowly mend the broken pieces of his heart with just the touch of her fingers. the times when hermione laced her hands into ron’s felt like being seventeen again; the butterflies in her stomach that had never left. and she, too felt like everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from her.

a look at harry would remind hermione of how some warriors fought in battles they never wanted; the battles what were etched upon their skin and engraved in their bones. how everything happened for a reason, and how a butterfly from long ago could cause a hurricane, a hurricane strong enough to drown out even the brightest of stars. and one day hermione passed by draco malfoy, and even she wondered if the gods above liked to play cruel games with the mortals below. but draco held his head up high, his stride fast and paced; this burning sensation constantly gnawing away at his arms, the eagerness to run far, far away from here. he decided when the glares were too harsh and the whispers were too loud that everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at neville would remind draco of how good things come to those who believed, believed in the people they loved and believed in the good causes they fought for. a look at neville would create this underlying feeling of envy and cold-blooded emptiness because draco too, could have had that but he had no way out. but he did. he took the coward’s way out. he accepted his fate, when neville fought and fought and finally he received what he deserved. and on any other day when draco passed by any other young man with unruly, windswept jet-black hair, he felt his heart leap out of his throat, because he wished he could turn-back time and go back. go back to where it all started, and change everything. because he knew, he too deserved redemption.

a look at draco would remind luna of how the moon rises, just to reflect the sun’s light. luna relived the past, over and over, wishing eternally that she could have done something more; more to help out her friends she knew were hurting so much on the inside. the times when her eyes would glaze over the thestrals, her eyes darkening when she sees the other students flinch for the first time because she too, understood. but finally she realized that somethings were meant to be, that the gods were telling them something when draco apologized, when hermione forgave, when ron stepped up, when neville held out his hand, when harry had this unforgettable look in his eyes as the sun fell below the horizon, his hands reaching out towards the light, finally free of whatever held him back.

a look at luna would remind neville to continue being fascinated in the wonders of the world, the ways of the people and the emotions of the unwanted. how everyone could get better and become even stronger through hardships and a lending hand from another friend. because like luna said, the gods were telling the mortals something. that whatever happened throughout their journey carved another road to their destination, uncovering another brilliance they would have never discovered otherwise. and neville wanted to thank the gods, he wanted everyone to realize that everything happened for a reason because it was meant to be.

what was meant to be is what created you, meaning that the stardust in your veins shined a radiance unbeknownst to your own because you were chasing sun; soaring in vibrancy, constantly. and the sun was just a giant star, and soon you will be too, with the rest of the world chasing you forward.

and neville wished that everyone knew that.

because he too, knew that even though everything was almost stolen from him, the ones who stayed behind were the ones who mattered the most. and right now, he was just a star, glowing faintly. but one day, one day he believed that he will grow powerful and become incandescent, enough to become the sun of all of the stars and be chased.

2

The Realist and the Dreamer

“There are dreamers and there are realists in this world. You’d think the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find the realists, but more often than not the opposite is true. You see, the dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring too close to the sun. And the realists, well without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground.” - Cameron Tucker