#Aurora borealis canvas

[4homestylist]

Northern Lights and Oak Tree Wall Art | Majestic Triptych Canvas

Transform your space with this stunning triptych canvas featuring a majestic oak tree silhouetted against the vibrant Northern Lights. The breathtaking interplay of green, purple, and blue hues in the night sky creates a serene and awe-inspiring atmosphere. Perfect for living rooms, bedrooms, or meditation spaces, this artwork evokes the beauty and wonder of nature's most mesmerizing phenomena.

GIT IT BUY HERE

[neoboha]

Aurora Borealis (1865)

[he-who-needs-to-be-silenced]

Rare irl pieces

Tiny azhdarchid sunset

And nanuqsaurus looks at a herbivore, potentially an Alaskacephale w a shaggy tail or any of the indeterminate ornithischians from the prince creek

Low quality Azhdarchid closeup

Low quality Aurora borealis closeup

[kestarren]

'Sámi on Skis in Northern Lights', by Frants Diderik Bøe, 1885. Norwegian artist 1820-1891.

[laurentwhites]

Here it is, finished: "The light catchers" oil on canvas 120x50 cm- 2018

[poligraf]

« Northern Lights. Study from North Norway » by Anna Boberg

[poligraf]

Wikipedia : Sydney Laurence

Sydney Laurence (American,1865-1940)

Northern Lights, Juneau, Alaska, c. 1920s

oil on canvas

[cupc4ke88]

💚Northern Lights🌟

[cbn-communitybasednews]

Deliciously Lean: Crafting Your Perfect Healthy Meat Feast

Chasing a fair and nutritious eating routine, integrating a solid meat dinner is fundamental for ideal prosperity. In opposition to mainstream thinking, getting a charge out of meat doesn’t need to be inseparable from undesirable dietary patterns. By settling on insightful decisions and embracing various lean, top notch meats, people can enjoy tasty feasts that sustain the body and backing by and large wellbeing. Read More

[hp-hcs]

• smut • aurora boy-realis (stop talking) — soft! tom riddle x gn! artist! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, no assigned sex-specific identifiers or anatomical terms, short and not really detailed smut but wtv, hella ooc tom for my delulu readers, like i cannot stress this enough he is ooc, i took canon and just chucked it into the garbage okay

i have had this sitting in my drafts, finished and ready to publish, for the last week now bc the imposter syndrome lowkey convinced me that i’m a terrible writer so anywhore enjoy this train wreck

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Don’t move.”

Tom froze.

Your charcoal stick moved in broad strokes against the page, your eyes darting between Tom and your sketchbook.

“…Can I move yet?”

“No. Stop talking.”

You were probably the only person who could actually get away with telling Tom Riddle to shut up.

(He’d never admit it, but that boy knew damn well that he was whipped.)

~~~

Your charcoal-stained hands left dusty black marks on Tom’s skin.

His chest heaved under you. “Damn tease.”

“Stop talking.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a spare pencil held between your teeth as you used his torso as a makeshift table for your sketchbook.

He wiggled impatiently as his fingers tightened on your hips. “Baby, please–”

You grunted, taking in a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself from his sudden movement.

He grinned slyly at your reaction, jerking his hips up experimentally. His cock pressed in deeper.

You bit your bottom lip hard enough to bleed as you desperately tried to stifle your moans and keep yourself steady. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” Tom gently pulled your sketchbook and pencil from your fingers, leaning over to carefully set them on the nightstand. “But you don’t really mind, do you, love?”

You grumble at the loss of your art supplies, pouting down at him. “Sometimes.”

He cupped the back of your head, gently rolling the pair of you over so that he was on top. “I’ll make it up to you.”

~~~

“Tom!”

“That’s it, there you go, honey. So good for me,” the boy in question murmured against the skin of your neck as his fingers slipped down to help you out.

His thrusts were slow and deep, driving you absolutely crazy. You couldn’t help but cup his face in your hands, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs in utter devotion.

“Oh, Tom—”

“I’m here, darling. Let go.”

You came with another cry of his name.

~~~

Your paintbrush ran over the thin, raised pink lines that traveled across Tom’s back and shoulders—caused by your own fingernails just last night—and covered them with a thick coat of purple.

You were in your element here, circling around your boyfriend and chewing on your bottom lip as you worked on your masterpiece. You paused in front of him to survey your chef-d’oeuvre, smudging the lines of green and white that ran along his ribs and up between his pecs with your thumb a bit more until you were satisfied.

Tom stood shirtless in front of you, his entire torso—from the top of his neck all the way down to the waistband of his trousers—covered in a beautiful artistic rendition of the Aurora Borealis flickering across a starry sky.

You picked up your enchanted camera, lining up the shot before snapping a magical moving photograph of your boyfriend patiently allowing himself to be used as a canvas.

You set the camera back down, screwing on the lids of your paint jars and humming cheerily.

“Right. Well, you can go wash up now. Thank you, love.” You kissed his cheek, unperturbed.

Tom was baffled. Wash off this masterpiece? Destroy it like it was nothing?

“At least join me?” he asked with that damn pout of his that could make you melt on the spot.

Tom could always do that. He was your sun, your moon, and your stars; you’d gladly move the heavens just to see him smile.

(Plus, showers with Tom always ended in sex. Win-win.)

~~~

Blues and purples swirled in the water that pooled at your feet.

Pinks and greens stained your hips, your thighs, your throat.

Tom’s lips were pressed firmly against yours, moving slowly as the steady flow of water pouring down on the pair of you slowly grew cold. Tom pulled back solely so that he could look at you, taking you in.

Tom looked at you as if you were his sun, the very thing his entire world revolved around.

Like a deity, deserving of the entire galaxy’s devotion.

So, without another thought, Tom did what any sane mortal man would. He dropped down to his knees and began to pray.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

comments are always appreciated!!

[iceunhie]

love’s a whole new meaning with you.

summary: valentine’s day has got them thinking that maybe love has different forms; but it always leads them back to falling deeper and deeper for you.

featuring. zhongli, dan heng, albedo.

notes: danheng favoritism rlly showing here 😭, this is for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss (don't tell) ! event; to @thexianzhoujade. happy hearts day !!

zhongli is a man who values tradition and the simplest actions—but he values you above all. when you tell him about the holiday called ‘valentine’s day,’ a day that's meant to inform the solidarity of of one's romantic relationship, he treats you akin to a treasure, as iridescent as fragile glass. you'd want for nothing with this man, seriously.

like the gentleman he is, zhongli can and will take you out on a classic yet wonderful dinner date catered entirely to your tastes (nevermind his penchant for forgetting price tags), the security of your relationship a stark imprint upon your mind forevermore. there is no greater desire he harbors than to be yours, always. he leaves you ever lovesick as before with his consideration, the way he's already gifting you bouquets of silkflowers, complete with a glaze lily to symbolize the lasting unity of your bond.

his valentine's gift is that of matching jade pendants symbolizing yin and yang. a liyue tradition deems that a gift of this design recognizes that the individual you've gifted it is the other half of your soul, your equal. and that is because you are. to zhongli, loving you is as natural as the earth beneath his feet, and with the passing of time, he silently makes a vow; a vow to be yours and you his till the end.

albedo grasps the concept of gifting one’s significant other to be both an arduous and thoughtful affair—when he hears talk of valentine’s day atop the lofty snow-studded peaks of dragonspine, his first instinct is to question himself. it's a bit of an oh moment, considering his personal belief that relationships, be it platonic or romantic, were rather taxing. is it elation, he wonders, at the fact that you and him have fostered such a fragile and precious bond to this extent that it is deemed celebratory? maybe it is. no, instead, you were the one that taught him otherwise.

he is not inherently romantic, even if you say he is. but he leads you with him to a vantage point during nightfall, when the city of freedom below rejoices in hearts day. there, watching the mesmerizing hue of the aurora borealis above you, he gifts you a portrait of, well, you.

it's rather simple, he thinks, but this was the most appropriate gift he deemed fit to give—even if he thinks that nothing could ever capture your entirety fully—because he simply wishes to convey the aspects of you he loves for you to see. to albedo, the strokes of his brush upon this canvas can only capture but a fragment of your splendor, your warmth that's like a fire on a cold winter day.

when you smile up at him with the reflection of starlight in your eyes, words of gratitude spilling from your lips, he thinks it's undoubtedly worth it.

to dan heng, valentine’s day reminds him of his past, as unrelated as these two concepts may seem. he's made his choice; to blaze a path of his own, with you by his side supporting him unabashedly. but for all his security in his relationship with you, does he really deserve this? when sins he once harbored lingers upon his life like a haunting shadow?

(“don't be silly, heng’er.” you'd chided him when he expressed his concerns about this once before, holding him as though you were everlasting—like you would never let go of him, no matter what. eyes tender, meeting his. “of course you deserve it. because it's you.”)

in any case, dan heng spares no time to waste, asking permission from himeko and welt for a stop-over in the luofu; he'd been quite flustered when she'd given him an encouraging pep talk, and welt musing about ‘young love’ and all… (the embarrassment of being outed as whipped for you was quite severe) but he takes you to the places you've always wanted to visit, and there's a sense of fulfillment in his heart whenever he trails after you hand-in-hand as you two spend the day together on a leisure date for valentine's day, eating dragon’s beard candy all the while.

young love, welt said. love that was fleeting, sweet. dan heng believes otherwise. this affection is all-consuming, and he thinks that him loving you will persist till even the last bit of stardust in the universe is no more. when he feels your lips brush across his cheek, that thought is solidified, a forever in the making.

[९] 2024 © iceunhie :: do not copy or use my works.

[malavoie1]

Aurora Borealis May 10 2024

Last night, something truly magical unfolded right from my backyard. As I gazed northward, the night sky transformed into a breathtaking canvas of vibrant colors. Thanks to a series of potent solar storms, the Northern Lights were visible much farther south than usual, and I was lucky enough to capture this stunning phenomenon.

The colors were extraordinary. Swirls of green and purple danced across the starlit sky, a display supercharged by recent solar activity. This year, the sun is at a solar maximum, brimming with sunspots that lead to coronal mass ejections (CMEs). These CMEs have been hurling charged particles towards Earth, enhancing the auroras and making them visible across vast regions—including here in Ontario.

The NOAA had issued a G4 geomagnetic storm watch, indicating strong auroras driven by the second-strongest level of solar storm. Although these events can affect power grids and communication networks, last night’s event was purely a visual treat with no reported disruptions.

Witnessing this natural wonder was a reminder of the beauty and mystery of our cosmos. For those who missed it, keep your eyes on the sky; the current solar cycle promises more such displays.

Processed with Affinity Photo v2 and Topaz Photo AI.

Camera: Pentax K-3

Lens: Tamron SP 10-24mm f/3.5 DI II

10mm / ƒ/3.5 / 30s / ISO 400

Taken: May 10, 2024

[amalthea-fictions]

Hi!

Can I request something fluffy for Aaravos with an elf reader, who really likes to sing and dance and just wery artsy? Maybe they are trapped togedher or something.

If you don't want to write this, that okay too. Have a nice day!

I LOVE THIS! I'm sorry I took a while to do it, but I wanted to do Aaravos justice ✨ (He's so ELOQUENT it makes him hard to write). I hope you like how it came out!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Curious.  

That’s how it begins: he finds you a curious creature. When the silence of the library is disturbed by humming, he glances up from his book. His eyes find you tip toeing across the room, hands brushing the shelves as if they were your ballet bar, entranced in some secret dance that stole you far away from the world.

He would quirk his eyebrow at the curiosity, but return back to his reading, undisturbed. 

Amusing.

The more he observes your idiosyncrasies, the more they begin to worm their way into his heart. He begins to expect the way you dance around the kitchen as you make breakfast, your toes just slightly touching the soft ground and prancing onto the next counter where you have your ingredients for baking. He comes to recognize the songs you hum, and the times you would invent new ones to your repertoire. And the days you pull out your paints and canvas and sit for hours by the skylight window, he would allow himself to simply observe your process: the way your hand guides the brush as if gliding across ice is, perhaps, its own sort of magic. And maybe, just maybe, his lips curl upward fondly at the thought.

Endearing.

As the days pass by, you find new creative and artistic ways to keep yourself occupied. Aaravos helped you pull all of his books on music and theory from his collection, which you’ve used to teach yourself how to play the lyre sitting otherwise alone on the shelf.

He again allows himself to watch your process as you learn– but, more and more, he begins noticing the softness of your fingers. The tenderness with which you treat the instrument, the gentle ministrations of your hands. 

One day, as you sit hunched over the instrument, your hair falls in front of your face. With a small chuckle, Aaravos magicks it back behind your ear for you. Surprised, you glance to him across the room, and find him smiling back, eyes soft. 

Enchanting. 

One dusk, he finds you backlit against the light of the setting sun, staring at your canvas. Paints line the floor, but your brush does not move. Rather, your chin rests in your hand.

“Painting, are we?” He asks.

You don’t look up from the canvas, biting your lip. “More like trying,” you sigh. “I can’t seem to get this one right…”

Aaravos circles around you, glancing at your work over your shoulder. “What are you attempting to capture?”

You shake your head. “It’s… a little embarrassing. But, instead of a traditional painting, I wanted to try and make an abstract. I’m trying to capture the feeling of dreaming on canvas. I just… it’s still missing something, but I can’t figure out what.”

Aaravos tilts his head thoughtfully at the assortment of deep blues and purples that line your page. Then, he motions to the empty half of your painting bench, the silk fabrics of his robe glossing against your shoulder as he does so. 

“May I?”

You nod, and he sits down with you. He’s close– his shoulder is pressed against yours, and you feel warmth from his entire body. 

He contemplates the composition for a moment, then smiles. “I believe I may help. If I may?” 

He reaches for your brush, and you move to hand it to him. But rather than take it, he gently clasps his hands around yours. You feel your cheeks grow hot.

He whispers the words of a spell, and guides your hand across the canvas. As the brush moves, it brings with it a swath of light and color to the page– as if the aurora borealis itself has illuminated the essence of your painting.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight, the dancing colors reflecting across your irises.

Aaravos smiles, admiring the beauty of not simply the painting. 

Captivating.

He comes to enjoy your company more than his studies alone. Craves the sound of your laugh, resonating from deep within your throat. Adores the slight curve at the edge of your lips that reveals when you are about to break into a full smile. He helps you in your kitchen dance now, sometimes holding his hands gently above your waist to steady you in your spins or curtseys. His hands are soft and warm, and he always meets your gaze with soft and gentle eyes.

Except– your perceptions of time differ. This imprisonment is but a blip in the totality of his existence; for you, it is growing more and more arduous. And as his heart grows fonder and fonder of you, so is it more and more pained to watch a beautiful bird remain caged.

One night, he awakens and realizes you are not in the sleeping quarters. He finds you in the middle of the floor of the library, your hands wrapped around your knees, your chin tucked to your chest.

“Little star?” He calls to you. “Are you alright?”

You do not answer, for when you try to breathe, your lungs betray you and you hiccup for air.

He frowns and sinks to your eye level, watching as you frustratedly swipe at the tears on your face. 

“Tell me,” he says softly, reaching forward to catch the tears with the pad of his thumb. His hand is warm on your clammy skin. “What is wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, using your hand to wipe at the tears on your opposite cheek. “I… I know you’re trying your best to get us out of here. But… I suppose I’ve had too much time to myself to think.”

“Ah,” he says, and begins brushing your hair from your eyes. “I understand all too well the dangers of being let alone to the machinations of one’s own mind.” 

You nod, and he allows a comfortable silence to fall between you before probing more. “Please, little star. Would you share your burdens with me?”

You inhale a shaky breath and nod, bringing one hand up to his, still on your face. He is tall, and his hand engulfs your own small ones. The presence is warm and comforting. 

“I began to wonder…” you begin, steadying your breath through tears. “I started to think about what I would do, once we are out of here. And I realized– I don’t think I truly have a place in this world. What value can I contribute outside of these walls?”

Aaravos frowns as you keep going, the words spilling out now.

“No one ever supported my hobbies the way you do. The world has no place for an artist, or a dancer, or a musician. What good is an artist to a world of practicians? Where do I even belong?”

You hiccup again, and his thumb strokes your face. His touch is tender. 

“Is that truly what you think of yourself?” 

You cast your eyes down and nod. 

For a moment, the silence of the library is suffocating. But then Aaravos clucks his tongue and chuckles. You look up, shocked. He’s– he’s laughing at you?

No. His eyes are sparkling at you. 

“Perhaps,” he says with a gentle smile, “I can put it into perspective for you.” 

Then, with a swish of his hand, the library radiates to life.

He’s projected the stars of the night sky –no, the entire galaxy– into the air. You gasp as solar systems twinkling planets spin around you. You hold your hand up to one of the stars, and feel your expression lighten in spite of the tears on your cheeks when you brush a dancing star off its path, sending it twirling in another direction.

“Now,” Aaravos asks. “Which of these is the most important?” 

You furrow your brow. In the time you’ve been here, you’ve come to know how Aaravos loves his riddles and trick questions. So the answer comes easily to you.

“None? They are all equally important?”

He smiles a sly grin, the expression that reveals he knows something you don’t, that the riddle answer is not what it seems.

“Not quite,” he says. “Consider: what would all the stars in the galaxy be, without the spaces between them?”

You are silent as you contemplate the thought. 

He watches the gears in your mind turn, satisfied. He leans close to you, his nose practically brushing yours. You can see the stars dance in the reflection of his eyes.

“If all the people in this world are stars, you are as vast and pure as the spaces between them. Without people like you, the galaxy would be meaningless.”

You swallow, and feel his breath hot on your face. 

“It is your creativity, your personality– the radiance of your very soul that allows the other stars to simply exist. Although not traditionally acknowledged as important, or beautiful… it is the spaces between the stars that I find most wondrous. Most–

Enrapturing.”

[bleu-pale]

Taiga at night 🌌! This is the second time I've tried to draw an aurora borealis in pixel art, I hope you like it ☺️! The canvas size is 135x135 px.

[oncanvas]

Aurora Borealis, Frederic Edwin Church, 1865

Oil on canvas 56 x 83 ½ in. (142.3 x 212.2 cm) Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC, USA

[annihilorak]

"Aurora Borealis, Juneau" - Sydney Laurence. (circa 1927) Oil on canvas.