feels like thunder

ily: i love you

ilysm: i love you so much

ilysmichbilysmifligtaliomymmnbyammcrccahgmbcykmcfl: I like you so much, I can hardly breathe. I like you so much, I feel like I got thunder and lightning inside of me. You make me nervous but you also make me calm. Real calm. Calm almost how god must be calm, you know, Mylene? Calm from loving. 

8

I wanna be your man, Mylene. I know you like me. I like you so much, I can’t hardly breathe. I like you so much, I feel like I got thunder and lightning inside of me. You make me nervous. But you also make me calm. Real calm. Calm almost like how God must be calm, you know, Mylene? Calm from loving. I love you. Mylene, I love you. What do you think about that? I don’t mean to be conceited or nothing. You know I’m not like that anyway. But if you see how you’re looking at me right now, that ain’t the look of someone who don’t like someone. So, come on. What do you say? Hm?

2

“So apart from the salmon, the whisky and the beef, I ask you, what have the Scottish ever done for us?”

*pause*

“Well, there’s the telephone.”

“Eh?”

“And the television.”

“Right! But except for the salmon, the whisky, the beef, the telephone and the television you tell me, what have those Scottish bastards ever done for us?”

“Well, I’m wearing a waterproof jacket. And our Denise is taking penicillin to clear up that rash she had.”

“Errr…..”

“And there’s the oil and gas, that’s all quite handy isn’t it?”

“Okay, okay! But except for the salmon, the whisky, the beef, the telephone, the television, waterproof fabric, penicillin, oil and gas you name ONE THING the Scots have ever, ever done for us…..you can’t, can you?”

*long pause*

“Bovril?”

“Oh FUCK OFF!”

3

He said to himself, that he hated Margaret, but a wild, sharp sensation of love cleft his dull, thunderous feeling like lightning, even as he shaped the words expressive of hatred. His greatest comfort was in hugging his torment; and in feeling, as he had indeed said to her, that though she might despise him, contemn him, treat him with her proud sovereign indifference, he did not change one whit. She could not make him change. He loved her, and would love her; and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain. North and South, Chapter 26.

Ily ( I love you )

Ilysm ( I love you so much )

Iwbymmikylmilysmichbilysmifligtaliomymmnbyammcrccalgmbcykmcflilymilywdytatidmtbconykinltabiyshylamrntatloswdlsscowdys ( I wanna be your man, Mylene. I know you like me. I like you so much, I can’t hardly breathe. I like you so much, I feel like I got thunder and lightning inside of me. You make me nervous. But you also make me calm. Real calm. Calm almost like how God must be calm, you know, Mylene? Calm from loving. I love you. Mylene, I love you. What do you think about that? I don’t mean to be conceited or nothing. You know I’m not like that anyway. But if you see how you’re looking at me right now, that ain’t the look of someone who don’t like someone. So, come on. What do you say? Hm? )

Yeah it doesn’t feel like thunder.
No you don’t send lightning pulses down my spine.
Rather, you fill my body with calm
With gentleness
With wholeness.
We are both growing.
We have so much to learn.
But my soul remembers your soul darling.
When I met you I knew.
When I saw you,
I remembered.
—  @likewedr
down

AU. Lance and Keith get stuck in an elevator - no phones, no one to come for hours yet, and Lance’s claustrophobia… this can only end in disaster.

or, that one au i hijacked from @yaxxm​. sorry.


Two hours of being stuck in an elevator with Keith fucking Kogane was, quite possibly, the worst thing that had ever happened to Lance.

It definitely wasn’t great first date material – not that this was a date, of course, but still.

Keep reading

Um no offense but “I like you so much, I can hardly breathe. I like you so much, I feel like I got thunder and lightning inside of me. You make me nervous but you also make me calm. Real calm. Calm almost how God must be calm, you know, Mylene? Calm from loving.” is the best thing to have ever been spoken on TV ever

Check Mars

When you are angry you are animated and your face becomes red and you become loud and physical. People feel like there’s a thunder that will hit them out of nowhere when they are around you:

Taurus, Aries, Capricorn, Leo

When you are angry you become so cold, sarcastic and so very calm and you have a death stare that makes people feel like dying. You will be surround with an aura that is so dark and empty and people won’t come near you:

Scorpio, Cancer, Sagittarius, Virgo

When you are angry you will say the most meanest horrendous things ever and you will reveal the weakness of the person who made you angry and they will feel so little in front of you:    

Pisces, Aquarius, Gemini, Libra

kixboxer  asked:

Baltic Thunder

COMPETITIVE DOGSLED RACING AS A COVER FOR INTERNATIONAL ESPIONAGE AU

victor has won the iditarod for five years in a row. this is yuuri’s first year at the head of the pack (NO DOGS DIE IN THIS OKAY I REFUSE). he and victor ~glimpse one another though the trees~ like a really cold game of flirty peek-a-boo that’s only sexy to them and everyone else is just…wtf. yuuri needs to get a diphtheria vaccine to a childhood friend, minami, on the other side of alaska and this is 1920 so no other way to get there b/c reasons.  

the espionage bit is basically due to being able to see russia from alaska, and someone smuggles state secrets in a pie that they’ve conveniently placed on yuuri’s sled so they can frame him if something goes wrong. 

something definitely goes wrong. 

yuuri eats the pie with victor on a romantic picnic in the snow, shivering in one another’s arms while they feed each other bites of a frozen boysenberry pie (boysenberry is the most furtive berry, perfect for espionage) and the state secrets are lost forever. they were plans for a pie factory to end pillsbury’s  monopoly on pastries. dastardly.

never bake state secrets into a pie.

minami lives. yuuri is a hero and vicchan is the best dog. he gets an animated film made about him

Remembering
in little flashes,
sounds and smells
that strike chords in me -
lightning bolts jolt
straight into my brainstem.
They come on like holograms,
blurry projected visuals rolling in
of memories that don’t feel real.
Swarmed in static, barely lucid -
but I can taste the sick in my mouth,
and I can feel the sinking stones settling
in my surging stomach; I swallow but my
mouth is as dry as a desert in a dust storm.
Flash, flash - FLASHING flits in front of eyes
squeezed shut/CRASH, oh this feels just like
thunder thumping at the inside of my skull -
banging and reverberating around until these thoughts generate a whirl of sound, cacophonies live inside these awful recollections - and they are SCREAMING at me, meanwhile I’m frozen, unable to make a sound.
—  Is it too much to ask, that I might be able to forget remembering in little flashes?
They are burning me up from the inside,
there will be nothing left of me but ashes // © @rarasworldbro
Footprints in the Snow

Thor sits on his father’s throne.

He’s young, and sitting on it feels like losing your way inside a forest. It’s made of sunlight and oceans-sighs, afternoon shadows and midnight silence, elven wood and gold, gravity and distance. It’s standing at the top of the tallest tower surrounded by four pillars, one to represent the east, the other the west, south and north. 

And you can see all of Asgard from up there, all its forests and seas, mountains and deserts and Thor sits there for hours and there’s sunlight and starlight in his hair, wind and salt, sweet pollen and sand.

And his father’s ravens come and go, inky feathers and pale beaks, claws tapping on stone, beady eyes searching for the sun and moon; they leap off the tower as birds, stretching their wings like a fan, and come back as men, young boys with black eyes and secrets on their tongues, their cloaks smelling like pines and jasmine, their hair cool and streaked with moonlight. They press a hand to their hearts and bow before Thor, their lips sticky with cherry and blackberry juice, their fingernails tainted with stone-dust, and they lean close, one over each of his shoulders, cup a hand over their mouths and whisper and Thor listens. They tell him about ships that look like nut shells, their sails as white as a fish’s spine; about a mountain that sings at night and how the dust falling from it sticks to lashes fluttering in the nearby villages and brings about dreams of green pastures and sweet milk; about two sets of footprints in a grey landscape, there for miles on end, and then gone when they reach the ocean; about places so old no one remember their names, lands untouched by the hands of gods or men, where it’s so cold that the heart grows tired and the soul turns white and moves like fog until it’s all gone.

Their warm breath on his neck, the loneliness blooming like a flower made of frost inside his heart and the young god of thunder closes his eyes.

 *

A single black tree in all that clear ice, four huge branches all twisted like a young boy’s braid; it casts no shadow and smells like blue smoke.

The wind moves so fast it sounds like a whistle and the heart of the young god of thunder feels like it’s floating, fluttering like a leaf getting close to the skies.

The tree’s roots move like a snake beneath the ice and Thor can feel the movement in his bones, deep and great.

Thor stands so close to it and the bark looks like it’s covered in scales, purple-silver and shining like coins. It shakes its branches and speaks.

“Traveler. What is it that you seek?”

Thor looks down, mouth set in a hard line, soft furs draped over his shoulders, leather straps twisting around his wrists. He thinks of the ravens’ red mouths and his lips bleed.

“You will find nothing here,” the tree says.

Thor wipes his mouth.

“Only ice and death.”

*

Blue starlight pours over a castle of ice crafted by nature’s gentle hands. Inside it sits the god of thunder. His hand is outstretched, his fingers spread, and he’s painting with lightning. It’s bright white and it trembles and zigzags through the icy air, forming faces and bodies, smiles made of electricity. They’re all there for a moment and then they’re gone and others appear, frowns and laughter and joined hands. And Thor watches the forms move over the gigantic walls of ice and when he reaches with his fingers to touch them, they flicker and disappear.

The ice is resistant. Thor uses the heat of the lightning to engrave a face in it. He’s standing there with his forehead touching the wall of ice and sculpts a face next to his own, using his forefinger to create the eyes and the cheekbones, the long hair and the neck; his small finger to create the lips; his entire palm to create the body, and one gentle fingernail for the beautiful lashes.

The heat causes the ice to crack and drip and all that white light is making him dizzy, and when he’s done he separates the form from the ice, presses his palm to the still heart lying inside it and shocks it to life.

The night trickling in through the ceiling paints the form’s hair black and Thor’s smeared blood on the ice turns its lips dark red.

His beautiful ice prince draws in his first breath in Thor’s arms, and Thor names him Loki, because in Asgard, Lokee means heart.

*

The god of thunder knows he can’t take Loki with him to Asgard. Loki’s a beautiful creature of frost and shadows and Asgard’s heat will be swift in stealing the breath from his lips.

He can’t stay with Loki so he builds him a home, a tall castle that looks like it’s made of starlight and air. But a home is not enough-Loki never asks him for more-but Thor sculpts an entire kingdom for him; towers and houses and walls for protection, forests made of frost and breaths, roads as white as milk leading  everywhere.

And when he spots flickers of loneliness in his lover’s eyes he fills the kingdom with life. He gives Loki two brothers carved from ice and names them Helblindi and Byleistr; three brothers living in a kingdom of frost that Thor names Jotunheim.

Thor visits Jotunheim often. He only leaves when the cold threatens to stop his heart. They live on cherries and kisses and Loki’s warm body in Thor’s arms.

And when Thor sits on his father’s throne and the ravens whisper in his ears of two sets of footprints in a grey landscape, Thor smiles and thinks of two sets of footprints in the snow.

Sometimes I want to dance in the rain with you, sometimes I want to be cuddled up with you under the covers while the thunder booms above us.
Sometimes I want to walk down city streets with your arm around me, sometimes I want to explore coffee shops and take cute pictures with you and of you.

But I always want to be with you. 

I always want to be yours.

—  You’re kinda my favorite human