#atmopshere

[thetravellingman87]

[artstationable]

Louis Laurent • "Void Knight"

Lead Environment Concept Artist at Atomhawk

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More from «Artstation» here

[culturadellastrada]

[soberfructosecornsyrup]

The ever cool like the other side of the pillow, @nearsighted-calliope tagged me for some feel good jams

I'm gonna tag @scifipegasus, @pullmeintothepyre & @lutescent

[dimalink]

Jupiter – hurricanes draw clouds, gas and clouds

Fifth planet from the sun. And this is something huge. And unusual. This is biggest planet in solar system. And it is gas giant. You cannot land at this planet.  And even more - this planet can be a star. It is made with clouds. Such a planet with the clouds. Almost all the planet is made with atmosphere. Gas and clouds. Some elements with liquid state.

This planet has no surface. These are clouds. And you fall into them. And something like different states of atmosphere. With a different layers - it is different. And even something like liquid in atmosphere with metallic hydrogen. Because of high temperature and pressure.

Such a bizarre pictures - this is wind. And it draws such patterns. And it has a strong magnetic field. And there are blizzards, storms. And lightings strike. Stronger than at planet Earth. There are huge hurricanes there. And it is to draw a beautiful patterns made out of clouds.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/

TUMBLR: https://dimalink.tumblr.com/ BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/ MASTODON: https://mastodon.social/@DimaLink

[verlaines-corner-archive]

In the House of God

Summary: You spend your late hours with Fyodor, a priest at your local cathedral.

Pairing: Priest!Fyodor x reader

Genre: Fluff! Not a modern setting.

A/n: Inspired by the lovely @beandaifuku . I had a lot of fun writing this one, priest!Fyodor is definitely an interesting concept. He also doesn’t have a god complex in this. I think now would also be a good time to mention that I myself have never been in a relationship, nor I have I ever felt romantic feelings for anyone. I don’t know how important that is, but I think it’s worth noting that you’re getting an outsiders perspective. Nonetheless enjoy! Ao3

“I was wondering if you would show up tonight as well.” 

The words greet you as soon as you enter the nave of the cathedral, fully drawing your attention to the man standing before the altar, his back turned to you. He knew you would be coming, same as any other night.

“Father Fyodor, forgive me, for I did not mean to intrude.” 

“Intrude? No, not at all,” he turns to face you, “this place is open for all, no matter the time. You knew this already, no?”

He smiles, and while it is something soft and gentle you cannot help but notice an underlying darkness to it and you pray that it is unintentional. A chill crawls up your spine and with a curt nod you quickly move yourself to the back row of pews. His eyes follow you, a peculiar gaze that doesn’t leave until you’re fully seated.

The distant sound of rain fills the air, easing your nerves and calming you. It is not long, however, before the gentle sound of Fyodor humming reaches your ears, an old psalm that for one reason or another is no longer sung at mass. His voice is calm, almost weary, and it fills the air with a serenity that was not fully present before. Your attention is drawn once more to the man by the altar, absorbed in whatever scripture lay before him and you wonder how he can manage to read it in the dim candlelight, though knowing him you would wager that it’s been memorised fully by now. You would ask, if not for fear of disturbing the peace of this shared moment, so you remain quiet and tuck the question away for later. 

The song comes to an end and the humming stops, leaving the space feeling emptier than before, though no less peaceful. You are left to find entertainment in the sound of the renewed downpour outside and you hope to yourself that he will actually sing, for his voice seems to be made for such things. Instead he simply lets out a sigh, and with the soft thud of a book closing he turns once more to face you. No words are spoken nor are any moves made as he stands there, leaning against the altar and looking at you as if he’s trying to commit your everything to memory. Another chill runs up your spine, though this time it is not caused by some underlying eeriness but rather the look of something akin to love in his eyes. 

It does not help that he looks somewhat fey in the soft glow of the candle light, delicate yellows dancing on his pale skin and illuminating just how sickly he looks, his cassock doing little to hide how frail he is. Like a ghost in the house of god instead of a man, simultaneously breathtaking and taboo. Perhaps it was his sickness that had led him to become a man of god in the first place, having hoped for some kind of salvation. Or perhaps it was something more sinister, devious. Perhaps you do not want to know. You wonder if he would be truthful about such things anyway. Not yet perhaps, when the relationship is still so new. 

Another heartbeat of silence passes before Fyodor moves, quietly making his way down the aisle. So quiet in fact, that if you were not watching his approach you would never realise that he was there, not until it was too late and for a moment you are grateful that you are no enemy of his. He comes to a stop by the row of pews you’re seated on and with a soft tone asks to join you, for he would prefer to be directly beside you when enjoying your company.

“Please.” You gesture to the spot beside you, bowing your head momentarily as you do so.

He takes his seat, and after a moment of what appears to be hesitance he moves closer, delicate hands grabbing your own and gently pulling them between the two of you, turning you to face him in the process. You note that it is as if you’re holding ice and he lets out a breathy laugh in response, telling you that you needn’t worry, it’s nothing you should be concerned with. There is a momentary beat of vulnerability in his façade as he leans forwards, placing a featherlight kiss to your forehead before pulling away, that peculiar look returning once more.

“Pray with me, won’t you dearest?”

Though he says it as a question, something in the back of your mind tells you it is anything but, that you have no choice in the matter. You do not particularly mind however, for you know such a thing is important to him and that his asking you is a confession and display of something deeper, something that could almost be made out as trust. 

A nod on your end and he smiles the same as before, as if he doesn’t know any other way. The grip on your hands tightens ever so slightly before he bows his head and closes his eyes, hair obscuring his peaceful expression. You follow his motions, allowing yourself to relax and bask in the warmth such an intimate moment provides.

[nctrnm]

#NowPlaying: " Goin Off #266: Atmosphere / P.O.S." by Goin Off w/ Rap Critic & Mues

[commonopera]