darkface:

By prodigy iηvadeя

I was born from the heavens so crack open my bones and galaxies will spill into your palms, for we are angels and our birthright is the stars.

(via princematsuokin)

lobo-de-luna:

12-25-13

macbcth:

modern myths+aesthetic series: anon asked “fallen angels or demons?”

↳ fallen angels

…Angels dont have any emotions—they’re only purpose is to serve God and carry out His plans, but they’re so desperate to feel love (or anything for that matter) that they jump down from heaven on to earth. Some of them want to experience these array of emotions. As angels, they constantly observe the actions of humans from afar. Humanity has fallen and gone to war because of love, pride, etc, and these angels are so curious as to how strong these emotions are. As a result, they take off their angelic titles and come down to earth—disobeying their creator. ~ Lauren/emiliaclark​

greiison:

more angels.

re: previous inquiries,

Read More

kaidanalionka:

historia caelestum: God creates angels

He makes the clouds his chariot
and rides on the wings of the wind.
He makes winds his messengers,
flames of fire his servants.

i. when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will not understand. 

ii. when you first go to run your hands through his hair, his halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt. he will will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and will leave so abruptly that he is gone almost before you blink. the last thing you see will be him standing in the doorway, a terrified expression on his face and blood in his hair.
(later, he tells you that he didn’t realize how breakable humans could be. when he explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you start to understand.) 

iii. ask him about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away, about how the universe looks like a blooming garden. 
do not ask about lucifer, because your angel will become a soldier before your eyes. 
do not, do not, do not ask about god.
do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee fathers, do not infer about a war you know nothing of. 

iv. in a science class you are taking simply to get the credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. she will call planets “celestial bodies” and suddenly you will only be able to think of the way his mouth curls in at the sides, of all the puckered scars that criss-cross his torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of his foot. when the teacher calls on you and asks you if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. 

(at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but other times, it is not.) 

v. when you fight, it is like the world is ending. his anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire state is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightening catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs—something about duty, something about god—and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the house. the weathermen talk about the storm for days, and you change the channel. 

vi. then there are the times when he doesn’t visit for months on end, and when he finally comes back to you, he is not himself. there are new scars across his chest, and he does not speak. he sits with you in his arms for hours, his nose buried in your hair and his arms squeezed tight, so tight.
he does not cry. you do not cry. 

you do not cry. 

vii. when you fall in love with an angel—oh, sweetheart. it’s too late to take it back now.

on falling in love with an angel || m.m.c (via qhotes)

eothaines:

modern myths: stranded angels

Angels who walk up to the Pearly Gates (laughing at jokes they learnt from humans), push on them, find them locked. Angels who try to fly for the first time in millenia and find their wings have atrophied. Angels so busy partying with mortals that they don’t hear the last trumpet calling them home.

notbecauseofvictories:

so I know I’ve been talking about Heaven as like, trenches and astronomical bodies and physical space, but that’s just because I haven’t figured out a good way to write about a heaven so removed from humanity’s experience of the world that language fails.

because my favorite thing is a heaven that isn’t a physical space, isn’t a thing the way the world is a thing, populated with beings that are also not things, so nothing occupies space and nothing occupies time they’re just math and vacuum except not because those are things and you see why I’m having problems with this.

but then you get this great idea of humanity showing up for that eternal life they were promised, and humanity is just so fucking used to three-dimensional space and experiences of time that they warp the non-universe around them and it’s all a great experiment in subjective idealism

because an angel isn’t a thing but when humanity is faced with an angel, it expects a thing and so angels are suddenly things and heaven is suddenly a place, and it’s all very confusing if you’re accustomed to existing simultaneously in twenty-six dimensions and none at all.

(humanity gives heaven weather.)

(weather. in heaven.)

(why???)

so humanity goes around retooling heaven in their image of earth’s image, making things from not-things and calling it good, leaving the angels to scramble helplessly after them. (heaven was operating off newtonian mechanics for centuries, it was a nightmare. every time the angels wanted to go faster than the speed of light they had to deliberately avoid thinking about maxwell’s equations or end up slamming into a paradox.)

and anytime an angel tries to complain, god laughs.

fucking creators, man.