tumultes

For my loins are filled with burning,
   and there is no soundness in my flesh.
I am utterly spent and crushed;
   I groan because of the tumult of my heart.
O Lord, all my longing is known to you;
   my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart throbs, my strength fails me;
   as for the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me.
My friends and companions stand aloof from my affliction,
   and my neighbors stand far off.
—  Psalm 38:7-11
2

The tumult and the shouting died. Ten thousand voices stilled. Every eye turned skyward. A warm wind brushed Dany’s cheeks, and above the beating of her heart she heard the sound of wings. 
Above them all the dragon turned, dark against the sun. His scales were black, his eyes and horns and spinal plates blood red. Ever the largest of her three, in the wild Drogon had grown larger still. His wings stretched twenty feet from tip to tip, black as jet 

Hey there. :) I thought some of your followers might be interested in the kids’ book series my sister and I created.  It’s called the Saga City Adventures series, and it’s about two American superheroes–Lionheart, an afro latino of Colombian descent, and Petra, who is of Malaysian descent–who use their time-travel powers to visit important events in world history, which in turn help them solve modern-day crimes.  In the first book, Tumult in Tenochtitlán, they visit the ancient Aztec empire to figure out what to do with an arsonist in their hometown.

Tumult in Tenochtitlán is now available for preorder at a special low price from Amazon and Smashwords.  It’ll be released on September 5, but you’ll save a little money if you preorder!

break-clownish-knight asked:

'Soul'

Send me a ‘soul’ and my muse will describe what they think your muse’s soul ‘sounds’ like

(( ♟ ))
Break was someone that caused a tear within Echo’s thoughts. For though she could still feel him strike a string of fear within her, for all that she had done against him, for all that he was still yet capable of doing, his was a sound that drew so many to him. Though he was essentially her enemy, he was also in part a teaching presence. She learned much from watching him, if only from a distance.

“ Break-sama is a song. He was a melody, a violin whose melancholic tune was often mistaken for a nursery rhyme. For it was meant to tell a sad tale, yet people danced and sang to it without a care, paying no mind to the words. 

I had a sudden bout of feelings about Declan Lynch’s paranoia. (This is gonna be like Ronan’s shame & euphoria all over again. I CAN TELL.) I blame my own sleeping pills.

The sleeping pills are an inconvenient concession. One that rankles every piece of Declan’s tattered pride. They worry him because they make him feel sluggish, the fog in his mind thickening time and speech. What if someone comes for him in the middle of night? Would he wake up? If he did, would be be able to convince his amber coated limbs to move and defend? Is drowning out the deafening tumult of his thoughts even worth it if it puts other people in danger?

Because Declan is not worried for himself. Declan knows that when death comes for him it will come in the middle of the day, high noon at the Paranoid Bastard Corral. He’ll feel it running down the wire he’s perched on. He’ll hear it on the wind him his own voice. A voice he feels he borrowed from the banshee and the dullahan. A voice passed down to him by his father who might as well have turned sluagh for all Declan is unable to escape the way his spirit dogs his every step.

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