distant storm

poems for the signs

The fire and blood of a dragon runs through your veins,
and it takes only but a spark to light your fuse
Your soul is an inferno, that wanders through the night, 
wailing like a lonesome wolf.
You are a force to be reckoned with,
with your tempting, but destructive beauty.
You have the ability to scorch even Earth itself,
with just one single glance.
You, my dear, are built out of gold,
one of the most rarest and beautiful things to find in life.
Never lose your flame, for you will lose nothing but yourself.”

You have flowers blooming through your soul,
even in the most darkest and hidden parts of you.
You illuminate a brightness, brighter than the sun,
with your silent radiance.
People are memorized by the power behind your voice,
as the honeyed taste of spilling love falls from your lips.
You are nature itself, grounded and tough,
but pleasuring and lush, like the trees around you.
You are the healer, kissing people’s wounds,
with your undying love.
For you are hard-headed, but not hard-hearted.”

You are the unusual, the chameleon soul,
changing your colors, due to your inner indecisiveness,
that is as wide as the ocean.
Your eyes are like stained glass windows,
holding many colors that represent the wide range of emotions that you hold.
You are the soft skin your lover craves to caress,
the skin that smells of lilac and sunflowers.
Your deception is playful and freeing,
for you are a sharp-tongued lover.
Darling, you are a safe haven, a home,
and anyone who dares to entangle their soul with yours,
will be changed forever.”

You are the nurturer at heart, 
the one that keeps lovers safe in soft silks.
Your soul is bathed in moonlight,
while your tears ripple in the crystal oceans of your collar bones.
The blue-dark belongs solely to you,
and your soft hands part the dark,
letting the light shine through for everyone to be entranced by you.
With beauty as dangerous as a knife,
and love like a double-edged blade,
You are the moon, the keeper of night.”

You are the vibrant goddess of the day, 
with skin as gold as the sun, 
bringing hope to the sunrise. 
Unconditional love brews inside of your photosynthetic heart,
with the ability to keep people alive with a burning desire.
You are sharp-tongued and made of broken glass and honesty,
which is to be admired throughout your life.
There are heartbeats in your eyes that shine so brightly,
you are to be mistaken for the sun itself. 
You are so much more than all of your sins and mistakes,
and all of the tears that stain your radiant eyes,
will soon turn to gems.”

You, my love, are a flower born in the heart of a drought.
Your skin is made of lace and silk, for you are fragile thing,
to be handled with love and care. 
But deep in that pure soul of yours,
lays ardent thoughts and dangerous beauty.
The scars across your heart shall fade like a distant storm,
for you are a soul seeker, a searcher, most importantly, a human.
You are a gentle nymph, singing lovers into a trance,
for you are as lovely and ethical,
as  a faery song.”

For you are a bed of roses, 
with your crimson petal lips and china doll cheeks.
Sometimes you are as bright as the day,
Sometimes you are as dark and mysterious as the night,
you keep people on their toes, waiting for your next move.
You are beauty, in the way that humans so rarely are,
warm and starry eyed,
for you truly are the child of Venus.
You love with the strength of a storm,
but with the kindness of a child.
Darling. you are the oxygen that everyone needs.”

Silver raindrops drip from your lips like stars in the sky,
with hips like a hurricane and a soul to match. 
You are the body electric, the midnight dancer,
with passion that is to not be confused with arrogance. 
You are a supernova, the explosive rebirth,
with a smile that crafts magic.
So many layers and colors you hide, 
contained in your electric heart.
You seep poison into the veins of those who hurt your loved ones,
for your undying passion and love knows no bounds.”

You laugh and smile in sunbeams,
for you are ready to burn through the darkness of the night.
Your everlasting light is buried in the softness of love,
but the untamed dark lingers through your soul.
You, yourself, are a religion, a dreamer,
but as dark and deep as the midnight ocean.
You are so in touch with the earth all around you,
for you have stars in your eyes and moon dust in your hair.
You are a warrior, a light, a fire.”


You, my love, are the definition of inner strength. 
Beyond the hunger of your golden dreams,
a softness remains.
Your soul is a work of art, so bold and unique,
everyone wants a part of you.
tease, touch and dark,
love is something special, and you treat it like gold.
There are sparkles in your doe eyes,
and your touch entrances people,
with the undying mystery and ferocity in every stroke of your love.”

You are made of nocturnal oracles and burning stars,
the brightest stars from all the heavens.
Your brilliant mind is as wide and colorful as the aurora borealis,
and oh, what I’d do to get lost in it for eternity.
Your heart bleeds in water colors, 
for you are the ocean itself,
keeper of the lively tides.
The bruises that paint across you skin are like galaxies,
for you are fully made of star dust.”

You are the galaxy in the skin of a human, the owner of the sky.
Your bruised mouth speaks an intoxicating type of love,
for you are a sweetheart, a seductress.
Your starving soul is desperate to wrap around another,
for you find beauty in the broken. 
Your mystical and rose colored aurora draws admirers in,
for you, yourself are the unknown.
Darling, you leave a trail of stars wherever you go,
for you a wanderess of the night.” 

@fandomsunitedposts said “Pet Monsters” for a prompt!
Thank you for the awesome prompt, I hope you like it!

Ken stops trusting his dad when he’s ten, sitting on the couch and watching westerns. Sedan, Ken’s pet, is nestling under Ken’s shirt. Sedan’s been going through growth spurts lately, trying to figure what he’s going to be, and he hasn’t been so good at regulating his own body heat. So Ken does it for him.

Marcus, his dad’s pet, a huge, hundred pound bloodhound, is lying in front of the TV, snoring softly. He’s never been particularly fond of Ken, but Ken likes the look of him, lazy and content like his dad who’s eating potato chips out of his hand.

On screen, the sheriff twirls his gun, lighting up the deserted street with one, two, three shots. The bad guy, dressed all in black, yells and his pet roars. When the last crack fades, the bad guy is lying dead, flat on his back, and his pet, a fanged horse, is lying sightless next to him, dead before it hit the ground.

“They ain’t got wolves there, son,” his dad says, eyes glued to the screen. “Bad guys, they got proper evil things, unearthly things. There’s a reason the good guys shoot him in the heart, you know. It’s so the monster dies too.”

Ken’s heart leaps into his throat and, unconsciously, he presses Sedan closer into his stomach. Sedan’s been growing lately and last week, last week he’d sprouted another leg, bringing the count up to six.

That’s not even mentioning the horns.

Keep reading


All he is, is a distant storm
          Whose rain will never 
                           drench me.
        All he is, is a distant storm
              Whose only cold air will 
                                     reach me.
What he was, was no distant storm,
                                   But a tempest
                                   over my head.
 After waiting for years to disappear,
              I put distance between us 
Now all I need are warm clothes,
               And he’s as good as 


Unisex fragrances made with quality essential oils, offered in convenient 4mL glass roll-on bottles! 

IRON BULL:  Cool, earthy, and surprisingly complex: Patchouli, rain-cool musk, pine needles, damp ocean breezes, cajeput, allspice, and
just a hint of exotic sandalwood, with a faint breath of sensual leather underlying it all.

SLAYING DRAGONS:  Pretty much Iron Bull’s favorite thing ever!

The high, wild scent of Dragon’s Blood resin, the scraped-earth smell of patchouli, a spicy drop of cinnamon bark, and the smell of distant fires.

LAVELLAN:  Sweetgrass, freshly cut; holy basil, clary sage, mountain rain, peru balsam, sandalwood, a hint of earth, and the familiar smell of campfires.

CITY ELF:  The smell of home, such as it is, for a city elf: earth, pipe tobacco, bamboo and teakwood, apple cider, and a faint hint of nutmeg carried on the wind from the distant marketplace.

THE STORM COAST:  The smell of fresh sea air, mountain rain, and wet sand, with a hint of patchouli and cool musk. The scent of an ocean breeze and a fierce storm blowing in. You can almost feel the rain on your face, the salt-spray of the ocean waves.

SKYRIM:  The smell of cold mountain rain, spruce trees, herbal clary sage, cedarwood, a hint of earthy patchouli, and a drop of sandalwood. This oil brings to mind the vast, sprawling landscape of Skyrim, at once desolate and beautiful, dangerous and wild.

ARGONIAN:  The scent of heavy rain and watery marsh-grasses: Sweetgrass, clary sage, fresh rain, juniper berries, damp and earthy patchouli, holy basil, and a hint of bamboo and teakwood.

KHAJIIT:  A warm fragrance that calls to mind the exotic jungles and warm sands of Elsweyr– Rich musk, rare amber, expensive spices, fragrant sandalwood, and just a hint of skooma.


Lannister Blues 2 {Jamie Lannister x Reader}

Originally posted by orotundmutt

[Consider this your warning, there be smut ahead]

Foreign hands tore at her lovely dress, groping and far too harsh. Someone with agile fingers undid the lacing, and amidst it all, Y/N simply closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the bedding.

The giggling chorus of ladies undid Jamie’s doublet, but the Lannister couldn’t be bothered as he searched for his new bride. The crowd was suffocating, and he could barely see flashes of her bright red hair as strange men grasped at her, removing the layers of clothing that separated her bare flesh from their eyes. The bedding was tradition, and yet from an outsider’s perspective, it was ghastly.

She was pushed into a bedchamber that did not belong to her, and a sorted bunch of noble men, most definitely including their fathers, filed in after her. Y/N was left in a thin slip, and could not find her Lannister husband among the crowd.

Keep reading



I was cleaning out my files and stumbled across this thing. It’s been years. I’m laughing so hard, this is hilarious. I forgot I did this. I was such a dorky kid.

A New Beginning 5/?

I’ve decided to stray away from strictly following the prompts on my 52 short stories in 52 weeks list, because I feel that I will never progress on my WiPs if I’m spending all my writing energy on filling the prompts. However, I do still plan to stick to putting out at least one chapter/story/what have you a week, and I may still occasionally fill a specific prompt. 

Here’s the next section of Incubus!AU Steve for week 8. :D

Just shy of 3,000 words, check for the cut.

Chapter One
Chapter Four

The pen came flying out of nowhere. Tony flinched at the last second, but it hit harmlessly across his upper arm, bounced off to clatter on the table, and then rolled off the side and hit the carpet. It managed to land perfectly upright in the heavy pile, and Tony had the absurd urge to reach down and flick it over.

Pepper lifted both eyebrow at him. “If it weren’t for the fact that I know you can’t be enthralled, I would think you’d been enthralled,” she said.

Tony loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Despite making a few vague you don’t have to do that, Tony noises, Pepper still leaned forward to put one gentle finger on Tony’s ward. It was barely visible with the bright light from the windows and florescent above them, but she traced the edge quickly and sat back.

“So this is just the regular, non-magical kind of enthrallment,” she decided. Her face twisted weirdly – eyebrows wanting to narrow down in disappointment, but eyes bright with happiness, mouth pulled down at one side and up at the other. She made a frustrated noise. “I can’t decide if I want to just be happy for you, or smack you over the head with all the work you’re not getting done while you’re mooning over this guy.”

“Why not do both?” Tony offered. He leaned forward slightly so the back of his head was reachable, and Pepper laughingly tapped him with a handful of papers.

“I’m not even sure how to handle you like this,” she said once Tony had straightened up and her papers had been returned to the table, neatly smoothed out and precisely arranged. “It’s been two months, and I was a little surprised when it lasted more than two days.”

“You’re fishing,” Tony realized, “You’re trying to get me to dish about my new beau!” He fluttered his eyelashes and her and put a hand to the base of his throat. Pepper glared at him, but a flush spread under her eyes and across her nose. Tony propped his chin in his hand to just look at her – she had such an expressive face and she changed colors so quickly and so noticeably that it was almost an anti-chameleon response. He’d seen her go red from her hairline all the way to her chest when she was angry, and even the tips of her ears flushed red when she changed colors.

“Fine!” Pepper said, “Yes I am. You’ve been very secretive about him.”

“He’s not my dirty secret, Pep. I’m not just… using him for the phenomenal sex.”

Pepper’s eyes softened and the color faded slowly from her cheeks. Her eyebrows did that slight scrunching thing in the middle. “Are you sure he’s not using you for the free meal with the phenomenal sex?”

Tony shrugged. “Does it matter?” Pepper’s eyes widened her expression shifted toward ‘disappointed’ so Tony hurriedly continued, “I can’t have normal relationships with people, Pep. You know that. The press would serve him up with a side salad and chocolate cake for desert. I like him, I enjoy his company, he’s smart, and he’s an artist, and he has great taste in automobiles – seriously, an affinity for them like you wouldn’t believe. He doesn’t expect anything out of me, and he doesn’t get angry when I get wrapped up in work and don’t call for three days.  He’s never asked me for anything, he’s a cuddler, and did I mention the sex? Fantastic, lose feeling in your toes, incoherent babbling sex. He gets a good safe meal out of it, I get lots of orgasms, and we watch Netflix on the couch like normal people. It’s fine. It works.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Pepper said with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

Tony liked the way her nose scrunched up a little when she was being Serious, though he was smarter than to tell her that she was cute when she was feeling protective. He smiled and just watched her for a few seconds, and she just looked back at him without a trace of awkwardness. Tony wanted to blurt out I love you, but bit it back at the last second.

“You are probably one of maybe… three people on the entire planet who think it’s even possible for me to be hurt.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but the blush was back as two faint smears under her eyes. The color made her eyes glow and her freckles stand out.

“How’s Huggybear?” Tony asked before they could slide even further into Moment realm. “Still snoring like a sawmill and stealing all the covers?”

Pepper threw another pen at him, and then one more for good measure, but she covered her eyes with one hand and said, “So loud.”

Tony laughed. “I did warn you.”

She’d run out of pens to throw at him, so she threw her sandwich wrapper instead. “Now can we please finish this press release?”

Keep reading



[am-buh-skeyd, am-buh-skeyd

1. an ambush.

Verb (used without object)

2. to lie in ambush.

Verb (used with object)

3. to attack from a concealed position; ambush.

Ambuscade comes from Middle French embuscade, from Old Italian imboscata, from past participle of imboscare, “to ambush,” from in, (from Latin) + bosco, “forest,” of Germanic origin.

“The storm is distant, just the lights behind
The eyes are left of lightning’s ambuscade
But still the swell is present in the mind
And now the panoply of waves is made
By memory and allegory combined.”
- Peter Porter, The Last Wave Before The Breakwater

The Dance of Dragons

My dog and I are partners. We walk together. We talk together. 

Sometimes we sprint. She always wins, but she stops to let me catch up, with a smile on her face that says, “keep trying! Some day you’ll catch me!” 

No matter how many times she runs ahead, she always swerves back to my side, and looks up at me as if to say, “I’m here if you need me.” 

There are a lot of things we do well together, but the greatest thing we will ever do is the dance of dragons. 

When the demons come dancing and taunting from inside my head and build a giant warrior of smog and despair, she stands by my side. Her eyes shine with fire and she breathes electricity into my veins. She summons energy from the earth itself, as she dances in circles around me, building a shield. 

The demons come like a distant storm that glides across the sky in just moments. What seemed like a spring shower rapidly unfolds as an apocalyptic force, threatening to destroy everything you are. 

The wind blows and it’s really the demons screaming threats of death and despair. It knocks me to the ground. But she’s right there, by my side. Her eyes speak of hope, perseverance, and vengeance. Her paws pound against the ground, and it’s as if the earth defies the sky, daring it to come closer, and she opens her mouth and roars. It’s like the sound of waves drowning a ship, and she’s threatening to crush the storm. 

As quickly as it comes, it leaves again. The demons retreat, and we are left standing with the strength of dragons still coursing through our veins. 

anonymous asked:

Hey I'm new to this and I don't really know how it works so um... ‘a man who can’t die is no tragic hero.’ centered around Vylad? Maybe?

‘a man who can’t die is no tragic hero.’ 

title: tea and cake

summary: A conversation over some tea during a stormy afternoon. Vylad-centric. MCD pre-season 3.

a/n: So, this is so… loosely based off the prompt, I’m so sorry??? It was supposed to be something deeper and Vylad-centric but I ended up writing him having a conversation with Isabel and threw in a bit of Vylance because I’m a sucker for that pairing? I hope you like it—I thought it was rather cute, even if it’s so… loosely based off such a good prompt jfc. I might take another shot at it on another date.

warning(s): fluff, tea, Isabel being a sweetie





Rainfall doesn’t bring melancholy feelings it once did.

As denizens scurried, seeking shelter in the nearby establishments or rushing home, he stood there in the street. His cloak, soaked. His hair, flatten against his forehead. The comforting rumble of distant storm this intense rain was bring only made him want to shut his eyes, listening as his breathed out even breaths and lulled into a fond memory which rain only brought now.

Keep reading

[038.] dark noon at gwithian

rocks sit black and hunched
their faces turned
to an unruly sea,

creased as if blinking with disappointed eyes.

their dark brows furrowed
at a distant horizon
and a storm that may never come,

they wait,
gazing into the blackened light,

and the sound of silence
stuns with the suddenness
of a broken clock,
a door slammed
or a word unspoken.

the swell of the waves
and the gulls halt their screaming.
clouds draw closer
as if afraid,
needing each other’s nearness,
and everything seems to
clench its breath.

for just a moment,
for just one beat

of a heart that holds all

all that exists is waiting.

rain begins to pat
at the smooth-skinned rocks
and, like a veil,
it shivers across the tide.

- dark noon at gwithian // zia // k. r. cole // ziacoro.tumblr.com

Been a while since I drew Wen.

She’s picked sorcery! Now she’s Liao Wen. Queen of storms!

In essence she listened to the great Stormwolf’s howl and wrote it down into a sorcerous tome. So now she’s one with the storms. I’ll jot down the initiation under the cut. In short, she is her own megaphone, she can move the winds for stunts (permanent heroic wind!) and she and shoot lightning from her fingertips! Also she has a really hefty book with her.

Doing lightning effects is fun! And it’s roughly wallpaper shaped/sized too. I’m probably going to make a cropped version too.

Keep reading


you are the dawn light—
      (the crack in the sky
where the sun creeps in)


the stars
are made of you;
of your forgotten sins


your bones shake the night
      (stained with memories;
stained with forever)


the night-dark in your dreams
reminds you of home—
& whispers of forgiveness


your hands break the city
into pieces—
      (shaped like love)


the scars across your mouth
are fading,
like a distant storm


you; halfway into the light
      (but more than before)
halfway into the dream


you are the oncoming storm;
wildflowers part
the earth beneath you


your light is buried
in the softness of love
      (but the wild dark lingers)


inside the hunger
of your golden-blue dreams
a softness remains


the ocean calls you home
again & again
      (but the freedom aches)


you are tomorrow’s light—
your tongue could melt
an ocean of sadness

—  The Signs as a Form of Confession: Part II, Michelle Tudor

let me sing to thee of beauty

of grey curls and dexterous fingers

of a face never still of brows e’er angry

of a complexion whiter than any lily

eyes bluer than the winter sky

his voice the rumble of a distant storm

his smile the sunshine after the rain

this gentle grace mine eyes have been blessed to see

let me sing to thee


by: fuckyespetercapaldi.tumblr.com


On the third day, she goes to him.  She pushes her way into his bedchamber without knocking and marches to the window, jerking the curtains open with two sharp motions.  The sky outside his window is the sort of pale grey that might dissipate to blue if the sun is strong enough today.  

Behind her, Orys groans and turns away from the light, throwing the stump of his arm over his head.  “Close it.”  

She looks at him.  Her husband.  Her lord.  Her protector.  “I had not known that the Dornish had defeated you so thoroughly.”

Her words are harsh.  Her tone is cold.  She crosses her arms across her chest and tilts her chin up. Orys sits up and his eyes are bloodshot, his beard untrimmed and wild.  There is color flushing up to his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he sputters.

“I had not known that the Dornish had defeated you so thoroughly.” 

Keep reading