I try not to think about you
But the rain’s coming and I’m waiting to hear your voice
Beckon me through the wall
When the lightening strikes
When the thunder calls.

You used to need me
To hold you close
Kiss your fingers
Beyond the downpour but
You’re no longer in the next room and
It’s not my name you’re calling.
Through the thunder that echoes my anguish
I feel your heart beat in the rain and
If lightening could strike me
Take me back four years
I’d do it all the same.

The ice of the afternoon thaws
In the evening storm and once more
I hope I’m yours.

Back Massage

Summary: Y/N is taking a bath for her aching back and Sherlock offers to relieve some of the pain.

Word Count: 720

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

I sat in the small bathtub as water poured out of the faucet, creating a thundering roar that echoed i my ears. The overwhelming scent of lavender permeated the air but it barely passed the barrier of my stuffed nose. A burning sensation that had been inhabiting my stomach all morning turned into a horrid pain that sent a cry out of my mouth. Just as I placed another dark chocolate kiss that John had given me into my mouth, the bathroom door opened and closed. 

“John? Is that you?”

“No, it’s Sherlock.”

“Sherlock what are you doing in here?” Even though the curtain was closed, that didn’t stop the unforgiving blood that rushed to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. 

“John confiscated my gun and my violin, so I’m bored.”

“What about your skull?”

“He confiscated that too.”

“Why is John confiscating all of your stuff?”

“Well evidently Mrs. Hudson doesn’t appreciate the holes in the wall,”

“I wonder why…”

“and evidently John finds my constant strumming annoying,”


“and evidently talking to a skull in your free time freaks out the neighbors-”

“It freaks me out too.”

“-so he took that and hid it.”

I sighed and sunk into the scolding water some more in hopes to ease the pain in my lower abdomen. I had been laying in the water for over an hour and most of the bubbles had died down and my skin began to resemble the exterior of a raisin. A stabbing sensation traveled down my spine and a gasp of pain erupted from my lips. 

“Y/N? Are you OK? What’s wrong?”

“Just some back pains, no big deal.” But it was a big deal, it felt as though someone was shoving a rusty spoon into my back.

“Would you like a back massage?” The sudden offer startled me and I began to choke on my own saliva.



“I’m naked.” Sherlock was brilliant, but sometimes he could be a bit daft. I just hoped he didn’t think I was trying to insinuate anything. 

“Yes. And under these clothes, I am as well. So I’ll ask again. Do you want a back massage.”

“No Sherlock, I’m fine.”

The situation would have been funny any other time, but the pain was unbearable. I couldn’t even convince myself that I was OK, so I knew that I couldn’t convince Sherlock Holmes, but he must have sensed my irritation because he left the matter alone. My eyes settled on a small patch of bubbles that had not yet deteriorated as we were left in a peaceful silence. It didn’t last too long, however, because as I was watching the bubbles pop one by one, a hand reached past the curtain and dipped itself into the water by my feet, brushing against my heel int he process. 

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?”

“What temperature do you have that water at?”

“Oh hold on, just let me pull out my thermometer from my pocket.” I rolled my eyes and silently applauded myself for my sarcastically sassy comeback. 

“The water is way too hot. Are you trying to boil yourself like a lobster?”

“It’s comforting, Sherlock. It helps my backache.”

“I offered to give you a back massage, that wouldn’t burn your skin off.”


I heard a huff of annoyance and thought that he had decided to leave but instead I heard the curtains being ripped open. A squeal of surprise and horror escaped my lips as Sherlock gently turned me around by my shoulders so that my back was facing him and began to run small circles into my aching skin. 

“S-S-Sherlock, couldn’t this have waited until I got out of the shower and- oh I don’t know- put some clothes on? I was almost certain that my cheeks were as red as my submerged skin, but this wasn’t because of the scolding water

“Oh please, you weren’t planning on getting out anytime soon and I was getting tired of your complaining.” I could hear the slight wavering in his voice as his fingers slipped on the side of my wet skin right under my shoulder blade. My breath caught in my throat when his fingers got dangerously close to my breast but he quickly recovered and moved them back to the middle of my back 

“There you go, all better.” His voice was soft and I could feel the vigorous heat that emitted from my face.

“Thank you Sherlock.”

“Anytime Y/N”

There’s thunder echoing around this small town, I’m dodging between the raindrops and dancing with my demons. There is smouldering wreckage on the side of the road. There is a broken body within the twisted metal.
Every flicker of fire feels like goodbye.
Fuck the flames, there’s plenty of tears to douse the rage. I don’t care if I burn or drown, I just need something to take this emptiness away.
—  giraffevader - *spoiler alert* I’m already a corpse
New XY&Z017 Summary

A new summary for “Zapdos and Noivern! A Furious Strike of Lightning!!” has been released. Thanks to Dephender for putting this up.

“Ash and his friends have decided to visit a town where a festival based around the legendary Pokemon Zapdos is being held. But then, intense thunder echoes through. The group hurry into a cave for shelter, where they encounter an injured rescue worker. He’s unable to move, so Ash and his friends decide to deliver the medicine he was on his way to a group of children with in his place. But as they exit the cave, they see an angry Zapdos…”

Thunder storms

“Imagine being scared of thunder storms and Thranduil comforts you by whispering sweet nothings in your ear and stroking your hair.”

It was raining.
A heavy, soaking rain that fell in dense sheets that chilled those who braved the storm to the bone. A storm that caused the animals of Mirkwood, both natural and non, to whine in alarm and go deep into their dens, and huddle close. For comfort? For warmth? Or simply to ride out the harsh elements. Those who were brave enough, or fool enough, stood in that rain, that soaked their clothes and armor.
Lightning, quick and hot, flashed brightly, illuminating the dark grey clouds above. Its white hot energy reached across the sky like heated claws, that reached out for prey that lay just out of its reach. Thunder quickly followed. Its deafening roar echoed throughout the valley, and the forest itself. And in the chests of those who braved the storm as they patrolled the borders of their kingdom, it rumbled in their hearts.
It was the crash of thunder that woke you from the fretful sleep, causing you to scream in horror, jolting you upright from the position you slept. Your eyes, wide and full of tears that threatened to fall, darted around the room as lightning flashed again, casting the room in bright light that slowly went to shadows. You trembled in fear as the worst of the storm gained strength.
Shivering from fear and from the cold that came from the open window, you rubbed your bare arms to warm them as you looked at the window. The floor in front of it was wet from rain, and the window panes cracked loudly as they slammed against their holdings. The wind tore at the soft silk, rain soaked curtains, causing them to flutter before snapping. Rain, cold as the air around you, continued to fall.
Such storms were not unusual in Mirkwood, but despite living there your entire life, you feared them.
Squeaking in fear as another rumble and crash of thunder echoed overhead, you shivered under your silk blankets, causing you to look to the empty side where he would have been.
Tears fell freely at the sound of your name being called gently from your doorway. You look over and try to smile at the King of Mirkwood himself.
“Are you alright?” He asked as he walked toward you on bare feet, a sight uncommon for him, and one only a few saw. His thick robe, gold and deep red, was nearly black and soft grey in the shadows, and it made no sound as he walked. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the room again, causing his light hair to shine like moonlight.
Your lips trembled, but firmed as you answered. “I am fine my lord…”
“My lord?” His voice was full of amusement as he grew closer to you. “I thought we have gone past that form of address Y/N. Need I remind you why we had?”
You blush at the reminder of the last time you spent time together. The joy of finally knowing each others bodies. The joy of finding out that you were with child. “No,” you answer him as you reach out your hand for his.
He took it as he sat on your bed, reaching out with the other to tuck a strand of hair back behind your pointed ear. His pale blue eyes searching yours for any sign of fear. “You screamed…”
“You were listening again.” You chided him.
“No, I merely walked into the room of the woman whom I share it with. And heard her scream after the sound of thunder.”
You roll your eyes at him, causing him to chuckle.
“Tis a silly fear after all.”
“Silly fear?” You gape at him, then glare, your eyes no longer full of tears. “Am I such a silly creature?”
“The silliest.”
You smile sweetly. “You, my love, are an ass.”
His rich laughter filled the room, drowning out the sounds of rumbling thunder. His hand lifted yours to touch it to his lips in a soft kiss, before leaning over to touch his lips to yours.
“You, my love, are lucky I love you,” He said against your lips. “For less, I have imprisoned others.”
“And what will you do when out child is born, my love?”
“Pray he does not have your silly fear of storms.”
You punch him in the arm before laughing. “Come, get into bed where you belong. Lay with me.”
He slid into bed, wrapping his arms around you as he held you close, warming you with his body and robe. He trailed his hand up and down your arm before resting it on the small mound of your silk covered stomach where your son lay sleeping. His other hand was in your hair. Running his fingers through the sleep tangled strands.
You stilled as another crash of thunder rumbled overhead, and you begin to tremble, despite his warmth. You close your eyes in relief when you feel his lips touch your temple  and hear him whisper.
“Tell me, my love, what can I do to distract you?”
You smile, snuggling closer to him as your hands parted the heavy robe to reveal his naked, warm body. “I am more than sure you will figure it out, my lord.”
His chuckle was wicked as his hand left your stomach and hair to remove your silk gown. Gentle, yet rough hands, caressed your smooth skin. “Oh my lady… I am more than sure I will.”The rest of the night, and the worst of the storm, went unnoticed as you and your husband began to make love. The memory of hungry winds had turned into the memory and joy of soft sighs and gentle whispers. Hard rain turned into soft caresses. Lightning became intertwined bodies. And the sound of rumbling thunder that had once scared you, became the sound of your love whispering your name before you both went over the golden edge of oblivion together.
Soon, the sun shone brightly, the storm a mere memory as Mirkwoods woods came alive with life once more. Birds sang to the heavens above as they flew past a silk curtained window. You slept in Thranduils arms, no longer afraid of the storms that came and went. But stronger in the love you had in your heart, for the man you held in your arms.


Half as Long, Chapter 3


It was raining, a rumble of thunder echoing distantly through the trees, and for what must have been the fourth or fifth or sixth or god knows how many nights, Mabel couldn’t sleep.

She sat back against her headboard, already missing the warmth of Pacifica even as Dipper held her close in his sleep. She had to go home, to the Northwest manor, a place that seemed more like a prison than ever before. Mabel understood, and she and her brother both would reassure Pacifica that it would only be a few more months, a little more than a year before she’d be free of her parents and able to stay away as long as she wanted.

Forever, if she wanted to.

It was odd, she thought as she rested her head against the wood to look up into the shadowed rafters. Mom and Dad pines were sweet, if a bit oblivious, but loving in their own way. Mabel had hundreds of great memories, and she knew Dipper had just as many; Of family campouts, trips, adventures in their own little ways. Pacifica had none of that; She had wealth to dwarf everything Mabel and Dipper and all of the Pines had a dozen times over, but precious few things besides…things.

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opportune alliance || Ken&Rio

The street that housed the smithery was never really quiet. Hammers pounded away, kilns and fires roared with their deep, insatiable fire. Smoke billowed through pipes. Even here, the thunder of a Harley Davidson echoing down walled streets wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The driver pulled into a space near the entrance, kicked out the stand and turned off the engine. It ticked and tocked arrhythmically. Kennard pulled off his helmet with a sigh, giving the old girl a pat as his leg swung up and over. The creases in his hands were dark with grit an acid bath wouldn’t remove. Habitually he wiped them on his jeans, smears of dirtier hands before them staining the blue charcoal grey.

Ken had never been in a town big enough to have a smithery. Well… he had spent a few weeks in LA, but any smiths there would have botox in their cheeks and would try to sell him plastic in the place of steel. Here, his bones resonated with the rightness of it all. Acrid fumes funneled up pipes, not a polished, gleaming floor in sight. Maybe… maybe he could talk the owner into letting him try. Ken’s fingers tingled at the thought, already imagining the ricochet of the hammer strike up his arm, rattling his rib-cage.

Striding inside the building, Kennard blinked rapidly from the change in light intensity. Galaxies died behind his eyelids as he paused and got his bearings. In front of him a man with his back to him, bent over an anvil. He waited for him to finish up. Getting interrupted in the middle of something always pissed Ken off. When the metal sizzled in a bucket of cool water Kennard took another step forward, grin coming naturally to his face.

“You must be the blacksmith.”

“The Unknown”

Leave The Dungeons Primeval, Free Imprisoned Souls, Resurrect Fallen Heroes, Eight Rotating Cycles Of Zero, Om, Echoes Bounce On And On, Thunder And Lightning, Pause, Peace, Cyphered Whispers Of Wind, Feel Warm Sun, Enjoy Breeze, Wrathful And Peaceful At Ease, The Unknown, Who Is Succeeding In Ongoing Spiritual War, Jaguar’s Roar, Cosmic Fabric Is Torn, Charge Static, Lightning Is Born, Shamans With Elements Writing

Frightening, Enlightening, Good And Evil Are Constantly Fighting, Tree Of Life, Be Free, Buddha Monk, Sacred Gong, Forty Two, Fifty Eight, Exponential Rate, Heavy Mental Mind State, Alien Spores, Fractal Forms Made Of Light Are Flying In Swarms, Lotus Bud, Life And Death Architect, Ink And Blood, Immortals Awaken Out Of Glowing Shadowland’s Mud, Space-Time-Mind, The Omen, The Sign, Lungs Of Earth

Amazon, Ceremony, Immortality Of The Spiritual Body, Yin And Yang, Universal Harmony, Shamans Heal, Plant And Animal Spirits Are Real, Ingress Vortices, Success, Words Are Portals, Trance, Equinox, Paradox, Simple Perfection With Complex Flaws, Universe, Verse Of Bless, Order And Chaos, Supernatural Natural Laws, Ignore All, Just Recall, Love Is The Source Of It All

Original, signed mixed media on paper - 17.5x25x0.1cm (6.8x9.8in)

Available for sale (£140/$210)

*Featured in Inspirational 8

I am smiling at myself today
There’s no wish left in this heart
Or perhaps there is no heart left
Free from all desire
I sit quietly like Earth
My silent cry echoes like thunder
Throughout the universe
I am not worried about it
I know it will be heard by no one
Except me…..
—  Rumi
day 714 || self - flashback

Day 714.  Day 714 since he’d become nothing but a curled up nothing hiding under the covers in his childhood bed.  Since he’d started hearing heartbeats echoing under the thunder of footsteps passing by his bedroom door back at uni.  Since he’d had to come home on a train, silent tears of pain streaming down his cheeks as the constant screeching of the train’s wheels on the tracks melded with the thudding of the other passengers’ heartbeats in a constant assault of sound.  Luckily, the problem of not being able to touch the ground had gone away by the time he’d gotten to the train station, so he’d thrown on a pair of sunglasses and pretended he was massively hungover to explain why he didn’t say a word to anyone.

Then he’d come home, and had to deal with the fact that his family didn’t understand what was happening to him.  Why he could still hear them perfectly even with foam earplugs jammed as deep as safely possible into his ears.  Why they sometimes couldn’t hear him coming because his feet weren’t on the ground.  Why, after two months of trying to be normal and failing, he’d retreated to his room and refused to come out unless forced.  

Fionn shifted, sliding out of his bed and closing his eyes in silent thanks when he felt the short strands of carpet against the soles of his feet.  He threw on one of his oversized hoodies and crossed to the window, adjusting one of his earplugs so it didn’t feel like it was going to fall out anymore.  Even then, he could hear the sounds of his mother making breakfast downstairs - the sizzle of the sausage in the pan, the sound of her breaking through eggshells and whisking the eggs together.  He gritted his teeth and snatched up a towel to shove against the base of his door, hoping to block the sounds out even further.  The quick movement dislodged one of his earplugs, and it fell to the carpet with a soft noise.

Sometimes I feel sorry for them.”

He froze, glancing towards the window.  That was Mrs. Blackwell’s voice, their elderly neighbor.

Why?”  Mr. Goulde, Mrs. Blackwell’s best friend from across the way. 

Their middle child, Fionn.  He’s certainly grown up rather odd - he never comes out of his room these days, you know?”  His lips curled in a wordless snarl as he snagged his earplug off the ground and shoved it back into his ear.  He didn’t want to hear anything more about how not normal he was.  He knew enough about that already. 

kanariterepasu asked:

“It’s thundering so loud.”

Rainy Day Starters

         “Mhm. Gaara nodded.

He gazed towards the sky as another crack of lightning stretched against the dark clouds above, soon followed by the increasing rumble and boom of thunder.  It echoed through the room each time, the walls almost vibrating with it.  This weather didn’t bother him much, though he agreed this storm seemed more severe than most they’d had.

         “… do thunderstorms bother you much, Ino?” he noted the hint of uneasiness in her voice.

neophytedoodlez asked:

I like chocolate cake. In cupcakes. With vanilla frosting. And now a serious legitimate ship: Norkalina + 20. As we huddle together, the storm raging outside

wow i do not think this worked at all but let’s give it a shot

North wasn’t sure what compelled him to walk the halls of the Mother of Invention that night, but it might have had something to do with the rain lashing at the ship. They were docked for maintenance, not allowed to leave the ship until the morning, and thunder echoed oddly through the halls.

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