the city is full of wings

A young boy desperately pulling back on a woman’s arm, as she shouts at an impassive police officer.

The photo — one of many from an anti-Trump protest distributed by Getty Images — showed up in People. It popped up on right-wing websites. And it appeared on NPR’s website, with this caption: “A woman argues with NYPD officers as she takes part in a protest against President-elect Donald Trump in New York City.”

The full story is more complicated, says Erin Michelle Threlfall — the woman in the photo.

A Protest, A Police Officer, A Yelling Mother: The Story Behind A Photo

Photo: Kena Betancur/AFP/Getty Images

[made rebloggable by request]

no but like

there’s a seraph who sleeps in the pews of the city’s churches because it’s the only place she feels comfortable stretching out her wings, feathers nearly blocking out the stained glass windows. At night, the prayers embedded in the stonework whisper to her, a litany of please and help and need, as inexorable and unceasing as the rattle of the subway beneath her.

and there’s an angel of the third sphere who plays pickup basketball with a young prophet—a young man who walks through metal detectors each morning to get to a high school where only fifty percent will graduate, but loves calculus and singing in church every Sunday. “Your jump shot’s insane, man,” the saint-to-be laughs, clapping the angel on the back, right between the wings. And the angel, who can see how the light catches on the young man’s halo, laughs too.

and there are ophanim sitting on the girders of half-built skyscrapers, unafraid of falling; passing sandwiches and thermoses of campbell’s soup between them, speaking in tongues about the traffic on I-90 and last night’s Bears game.

and Israfel sneaks away from celestial choir practice to attend concerts in the park, but he usually ends up absently sketching equations modeling the wavelengths into the grass. There’s an adjunct mathematics professor who sometimes attends, and afterwards they discuss hyperharmonic series in the gathering dusk.

angels in the public libraries, reading children’s books and touching the illustrations with just their fingertips, like beholding a sacred text.

angels moving along the cracks in the pavement and between the alleyways; going without fear into the worst neighborhoods, because they have walked in the valley of death and fear no evil—not even the mastery of it that humanity demonstrates through abject poverty, ignorance, social immobility.

angels glaring at potholes  and rolling their eyes at delays (the work of the Deceiver, no doubt) and running to catch a subway that goes not even a hairsbreadth of the speed their wings could carry them.

angels looking up at the statues made in their image, grey forms on grey pedestals with granite wings, and snickering to themselves. (The artist missed a few hundred eyes, they think; mouths and limbs and grace and song and fire and flight—)

but then they gaze up at the brutalist skyscrapers with windows reflecting the flame-colored sunset and low-hanging exhaust, spindly radio towers forming a winking blue halo if you crane your neck just so. And the angels think maybe the humans caught a glimpse of the divine after all.

~*~urban angels~*~

A commission for the lovely @ruenesca​! Thank you for the opportunity, this was a lot of fun to make! <3

This picture also comes with its own story, written by @ruenesca​. Enjoy!

If Only in My Dreams

The scene before him was a familiar one that had played out in his mind many times before. Drift smiled with a fondness as he took in the bot standing with his back to him, leaning against the balcony’s edge.

Keep reading


hw sketches and concepts for my buggy characters Vincent and Maggie!

Vincent is a newly-adult-ed dragonfly who wants to go fast… Maggie eats shit and regularly participates in dangerous adventures for fun. has memory and wing issues from slamming her head into stuff even with her helmet. they’re best buds (FAST AND DANGER (RESPECTIVELY))

they’re visiting a bug city in an abandoned shack full of boxes and jars turned storefronts, residences and other places! they’re likely visiting a specific restaurant (run by Arnold) that exchanges bodies for supplies, and then prepares the bodies for supply-paying predators who cant or don’t want to hunt their food. at least for a fancy night-out.

Vincent isn’t comfortable eating anything with a face, and Maggie’s standards and findings aren’t very Fresh, so this is one of the better options for him. 

u can find more reeeeaaaallllly old pics of them and other bugs here

Starlings in Winter
by Mary Oliver

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

veryunmarvelous  asked:

Do you think that angels cavort in coffee shops or in Central Park or in back alleys of dark cities?

Every order of angels stakes out a hallowed ground, nesting in some exposed crevice of the city like their Columbidae cousins. The Ophanim like subway tunnels, the thrumming of them, the rush of air. The Cherubim prefer something a little more stately, expensive dining rooms where their oxen faces lip at the china plates, and their wings brushing back and forth lazily.

(Seraphs try not to fit more than two of them on the same plane of physical existence at once. It crowds out the quarks.)

The Dominions gather on the steps of the capitol building. One of them picked up a smoking habit from an alderman, and now they all carry those cardboard cases tucked in the folds of their palliums. You can see them there sometimes, lighting cigarettes with the fire of their swords.

The Powers like shipping yards, loading docks, late at night. They wrestle one another in the gravel, all six arms flailing, monstrous mouths laughing through bared teeth. The strength of the Lord likes a headlock, though it’s difficult when there are three heads. Principalities tend to congregate in the Art Institute—they trail through exhibits in twos or threes, brushing against people’s coat sleeves, speaking to one another in dead men’s poetry.

The low-level angels—the unaffiliated stragglers, loners, and miscellaneous celestial riffraff—find places wherever they can. Last month it was a hole in the wall Thai place where one of them was a server; the month before, it was the public library. They play card games in Starbucks and bless the baristas under their breath—sometimes when they’re gathered at the lakeshore, they like flashing their halos, distracting bikers and joggers.

Act your rank, the Virtues admonish them, when they see the mere angels giggling into their feathers.

Make us, the angels jeer, and race away laughing, their wings catching the wind like sails.


Tonight I’m taking a look back at an underrated classic: The No Home Boys Graphic Novel Adapation.  In 1965, the author of the No Home Boys, Dustylegs Jefferson, died tragically when he was hit by a train full of circus animals at a book signing in active train yard.  Many feared Dustylegs death also meant the death of the beloved book series.  But a mere three decades later, the publishing wing of the Railroad Workers Union picked up the franchise and began releasing new stories in a slick graphic novel format.  

Some fans turned up their noses at the new adventures of the No Home Boys.  The old series was a down to earth travelogue - a gritty portrayal of growing up during the Great Depression.  The new series was full of magic demons, talking animals and ninjas.  Sure it didn’t have the same campfire charm, but the expanded “Hoboverse” had much more character development and backstory for readers to sink their teeth into.

I rate it a C+ 


Script: Ian Flynn
Art: Jamal Peppers, Jennifer Hernandez, Terry Austin, John Workman & Gabriel Cassata
Sonic the Hedgehog #281 CVR A Reg: Tyson Hesse
Sonic the Hedgehog #281 CVR B Variant: Diana Skelly, Rick Bryant & Matt Herms

SONIC is SPEEDING down the Dragon Road in “Wings of Fire” Part One: Sonic and the Freedom Fighters travel to city-state of Chun-nan in search of more Gaia Keys! Dulcy the dragon is bringing all her might to help, but is her fledging team ready for end-of-the-world stakes? Could anyone really be? Then in “Homesick,” Bunnie and Tails come to the aid of a Key Guardian in a time of crisis! Featuring Cover art by the totally-terrific Tyson Hesse and a special “Love Struck” variant by the super-expressive Diana Skelly!
On Sale Date: 5/11
32-page, full color comic
$3.99 U.S.

My interpetation of the Mirror!Steven AU

You all are free to interpret this AU any way you want, but I thought I give my interpretation of it. For those who don’t know what the Mirror!Steven AU is, it’s an AU where Steven and Lapis switch places. Anyways, here:

  • Steven and Lapis roughly look the same as they do in canon, except they have slightly different color palettes and wear different clothing,Lapis’s ears are actually visible, Steven is slightly taller and a bit thinner, and Lapis is slightly shorter and chubbier. Plus, their gem placements are switched ( Steven’s gem is on his back, Lapis’ is on her belly ).
  • Like Lapis in canon, Steven is trapped in a mirror, has mirror eyes, and can summon wings. However, his wings are not made of water, and he can’t control water. Instead, Steven’s wings are made of rose petals, and he controls plants!
  • Beach City is now Garden City. Garden City is full of beautiful flower and fruit gardens and pretty flower and fruit trees.
  • Steven’s name is Rose Quartz, but Lapis calls him Steven, because, in her time of playing with the mirror, she named it Steven, so he decided to go by that name.
  • Rose/Steven and Jasper fuse to make Rhodochrosite ( i know it used to be Amber. i just think Rhodochrosite fits better )
  • Lapis’ name is Alexis Lazuli Universe.
  • Lion is now a blue Jaguar named, of course, Jaguar. Jaguars are a type of big cat that love to swim.
  • Alexis is the same age as Steven in canon.
  • Alexis and Connie are still friends, and they fuse to make Alexonnie ( i’ll make a design for her later ).
  • Lapis Lazuli is Alexis’ mom. She fuses with Pearl to make Moonstone.
  • Alexis’ dad is still Greg.
  • Rose/Steven makes a giant Flower to try to get back to space.
  • Lapis Lazuli’s hair moves like water.
  • Instead of making water clones, Rose/Steven makes plant clones of the gems.
  • Alexis still has healing spit.

I might add more later. But that’s it for now.

Things I Associate With the Signs

(based on people I know)
Aries: the color red, gym rats, second base under the bleachers, summer barbecues, coke
Taurus: hot wings, stripes, the chrome filter, big brown eyes, late night munchies at 7/11, dogs
Gemini: spring blooming, contagious laughter, butts, love triangles, pedicures, trampolines
Cancer: artistic tears, scented candles, rain boots, rom coms, the best hug you’ve ever had, cats
Leo: pixel art, long paragraph texts, the Santa Monica Pier, dirty jokes, skin on skin, decorative pillows
Virgo: Full House, mothers, hardwood floors, cool socks, green, long walks around the city, memes
Libra: champagne, reality TV, cuddling, bouquets, coachella bands, staircases, dancing
Scorpio: music festivals, hurt feelings, open car windows on rainy days, bonfires, horror movies
Sagittarius: cult movies, bright colors, sneaking out at night, painting nails, spontaneous Skype sex
Capricorn: classic books, hot rods, fathers, bed sheets fresh from the dryer, café dates
Aquarius: Venice beach, playful underwear, thrift stores, getting sucked into the waves, long Instagram bios
Pisces: Glee, free gifts, vinyl albums, talks about the future, falling asleep in class, scrunchies

Eye of the Beholder: Chapter One

Ao3 Link

Pairings: Adrien Agreste/Alya Cesaire/Marinette Dupain Cheng

Chapter Summary: First part of the Winging It AU in which Alya becomes fabulous and nearly destroys her bedroom

It was a brisk summer evening when Alya first kissed her best friend full on the mouth.

At the time, Alya didn’t know it was Marinette’s cherry lip gloss that lingered on her lips after each kiss; didn’t know that Marinette’s gloved fingers threaded through hers. She didn’t know anything beyond the fact that the only sound she could hear against the dim din of the city was the sound of Ladybug’s shallow breathing. They were each so afraid to break contact; afraid that the tentative trio they spent the last six months building might fall apart. Alya was partly afraid that the rage from the Ladynoir fans would create a legion of akuma that would swallow Paris whole but not afraid enough to pull back. The warm light of the setting sun and the warm pressure against her lips were indistinguishable and she didn’t want to go without either just yet. If she had known it was Marinette she might not have stopped. If she had known that this would only be the first of many kisses, she might not have been so reluctant to pull away.

And if she had known that in two months’ time she would find herself kissing the stunned, heartbroken, wide eyed Adrien Agreste lingering on the edge of the rooftop a few yards away she might not have felt her stomach drop as her eyes opened to see him standing there.

But perhaps some context is in order.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you had any music you associated with your "the city is full of wings" tag? I just saw the Gotham trailer and I have so many feelings about cities and their complexities and just everything you encompass in that tag. (Gotham is probably gonna be shit but I can hope)

YES but also no? like, the sound of the Gotham trailer is a very particular idea of a city it’s a city like a movie set, dark and mean and slick and atmospheric—seriously, that’s the part of the Dark Knight movies that always felt off to me, there were never enough people, they were never disparate enough, they weren’t real. They were set dressing.

Because a real city isn’t like that, Chicago isn’t like that—Chicago is alive and noisy and tender, all blues and dirt yards, so if I were going to have a soundtrack for that, it would be lots of hot jazz, Howlin’ Wolf and Hines and Benny Goodman, along with Lupe Fiasco and The Cool Kids, and then some of Chicago’s early stuff, back when they were still Chicago Transit Authority and hadn’t started messing around with synthesizers yet. I’m fond of Local H and Eleventh Dream Day because my mom’s friend was into the local alt-rock scene back in the 90s, and would play their albums—but they don’t really have a distinctly Chicago sound, so I don’t know if I’d include them.

Plus you’d need a sound that captured all the different neighborhoods and ethnic groups that brought their own sounds to bear on the city—like, if you don’t have Danny Boy somewhere on that album, it’s just not Chicago for me. Gospel music, too. Something Polish, though a mazurka seems laughably stereotypical.

I could also go for something like The New Amsterdams’ “Has Anyone Seen my Wings” but that’s boring.

Somewhere else, Clarke Griffin is walking barefoot on her new white fluffy carpet while talking to her father on the phone;  freshly-washed golden hair sticking to her neck, glass of wine in one hand, engagement ring glistening when it catches yellow September light and Clarke smiles.

Somewhere else Bellamy Blake laughs loudly, head thrown back, old book full of ancient heroes opened on his lap, reading glasses thrown haphazardly on the coffee table, his sister curled by his side, Octavia who has never known how it is to belong nowhere.

Somewhere else Raven Reyes watches from the window of her flat on the top of the city’s highest building flock of birds circling on the evening sky; her shadow lean and long and graceful, black high heels, bright eyes, free and carless and infinite, the girl who has grown a pair of wings on her shoulders.

Somewhere else Monty Green hugs his best friend since forever and his best friend’s girlfriend sends him a soft smile as they wave him goodbye and disappear, swallowed by the grey mist and Monty picks up his dog who licks his face and he sits on the floor by the couch and rests head on his fiancé’s tight.

Somewhere else there’s a cup of mint tea on Monty’s bedside table when he has a flu, and there are marvel comics and old, worn out ballet shoes in Octavia’s green bag and somewhere else there’s a lightness in Raven’s bones and there’s someone who kisses her neck after she had a long day, there’s a pink-cheeked baby laying in a crib and Clarke hums along Taylor Swift’s new song when she paints night sky on baby’s bedroom’s celling , there’s a faith that people are good in Bellamy when he closes his eyes and goes to sleep every night, one arm looped around the woman he loves most in this world.

Somewhere else, they don’t even know how spilled blood looks like.

-          We’re more than just this tragedy

The Signs as Aesthetic Things (check Sun and Moon please)
  • Aries: Bonfire embers, flaming red hair, jet trails spelling sweet words
  • Taurus: Gilded books, skyscrapers at sunrise, grayscale romance
  • Gemini: Dog-eared pages, crowded concerts, white converse that've been written all over
  • Cancer: Pastel colours, beaches at sunrise, rose petals on water
  • Leo: Confident smiles, Phoenix quills, winged eyeliner on bright eyes
  • Virgo: Colour-coordinated bookshelves, pale wildflowers, day showers
  • Libra: Beautiful laughs, city lights, autumn leaves
  • Scorpio: Full moons behind clouds, late-night conversations, warm fireplaces
  • Sagittarius: The smell of misty pine forests, messy nail polish, walking through the city at night
  • Capricorn: Well-organized notebooks, lovely calligraphy, deep inner thoughts
  • Pisces: Old library books, bright jellyfish, lavender incense
Poor Child. |Closed with surpass-the-gods


A full year, to the day, Crona has been trapped on the moon with the rage of Asura. Who knows if she’s even still alive, or if he’s killed her to try and release the sphere round the moon.
An entire year after these events, and something.. Odd happens. A sort of booming noise loud enough to stretch across the city. Then just for a moment the sphere dissipates. Then it reappears. Asura doesn’t seem to have escaped in time thank Death, but someone else has. That thin figure, all in black, huge dragonlike wings that don’t do a thing for her as she falls. Except maybe break her fall. The child seems to have fallen a few miles outside of the city, in the sand wastes..



After a full day of mostly “wandering” about the city, it wasn’t surprising Nehemiah found himself in a coffee shop, or at least a place that served coffees.

He sat with his back towards the wall at a table in the back. With his wings concealed from human view, he blended in just fine with the small group gathered here.

With a soft sigh, he set his cup down. The search here was seemingly fruitless as well. Granted, that wasn’t the only reason he was here; he’d been sent here on some small official business, but he always spent the extra time he had looking. It wasn’t all too surprising, though. He’d just have to look elsewhere he supposed.