#Summer Storms

[marejadilla]

Michele Del Campo, "Today I regret all the times that I took shelter from summer storms", oil on linen, 2020. B. 1976, Sannicandro Garganico, Italy. Works in Miami.

[americanhell]

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Daenerys III

Viserys came upon her as sudden as a summer storm, his horse rearing beneath him as he reined up too hard.

“You dare!” he screamed at her. “You give commands to me? To me?”

He vaulted off the horse, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled back to his feet.

He grabbed her, shook her. “Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here.

Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

[carrie11]

Storm system passing through during sunset

[heavenskiriot]

A Drive Up Mount Blue Sky // Colorado

Tumblr | Instagram | Society6

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Summer Storms

Thunderstorm rolling across the open fields of rural Minnesota.

By Dylan Lee

[rabbitmilk]

7.16.23

[parsleysagerosemarytimemachine]

North-central Illinois really getting some storms tonight! Luckily still a bit south of me as I'm getting home.

[pseudospectre]

There's a huge storm and my power went out. I'm badly prepared and don't have lights or candles except this battery powered one. And Selkie needed to investigate :)

[indrugswe-trust]

Sitting on the porch reading, patiently waiting for the rain to roll in. 📖🌧️

[softlyapollo]

officially at the part of the summer where it looks like the world is going to end at around 5pm every evening

[positivelyruined]

and suddenly I know what they mean by “the wind howled in the fireplace” 🥱👻

[mumblelard]

grace or not to me

i only had a nightstand on one side of my bed for a long while. the space where it would go always looked off to me and it could be inconvenient not having a place over there for someone to rest a glass of water or a phone. for a long time, i looked for something. i finally found a nice one at the thrift store, a little worn like it had some stories to tell, but not so battered that it wouldn't survive telling them. now, the lack of space looks funny, but i'm enjoying getting used to it

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Stormwatch

This first week starts off with @maalezzo's request for Bagginshield.

I have no idea what that drink is, but I would love to get a recipe and try it out :)

Thank you so much for this request! It was a pleasure to write it!

Words: 1k

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Prompt: Summer Storms (and cocktails)

Warnings: Innuendo

"What is this exactly?" Thorin asked, his dark brows furrowed with distrust and curiosity.

Even after all his years living abroad, his dwarvish nature made him wary of foods and beverages not formerly known to him—this unwavering petulance was one of the many things he was benevolently mocked for by his lover.

Unfortunately for both his stubborn prudence and his waist, living with Bilbo included a lot of new culinary experiences and this seemingly calm Saturday evening was no exception.

"It's a butter pecan whiskey sour," Bilbo repeated in his most patronising voice.

Nevertheless, he gave that stubborn head a fond pat as he sat by Thorin's side next to the open window and gave a satisfied, thrumming sigh.

"I love a good summer storm, don't you?" he asked wistfully as he leaned against the broad, sturdy shoulder of his beloved king.

Shrugging sheepishly, Thorin took a sip of his cocktail and allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk upwards with genuine delight.

More than storms, summer or otherwise, he loved sitting here with his beloved while nursing one of those outlandish but delicious concoctions Bilbo frequently came up with when Thorin had his back turned.

"I was quite intimidated by them as a pebble," he then confessed. "Inside the mountain, it felt as if the whole kingdom would come crashing down on our heads."

At that, Bilbo gave a sympathetic hum, intertwining the fingers of his free hand with Thorin's broad, sturdy digits consolingly.

"Later," Thorin went on, "it became even worse. Our lodgings—while in exile—left much to be desired, you understand."

Thorin fell silent as if embarrassed by this confession; Bilbo knew that he did not relish thinking back on these days of deprivation and despair, so he never pressed Thorin on the matter.

"Of course," Thorin then chuckled, evidently decided that he wouldn't let his ghosts ruin a perfectly comfortable summer evening with his lover, "back then, nobody would bring me cocktails and expect me to watch the storm ravage the landscape as if it was a marvellous spectacle."

"Isn't it?" Bilbo asked kindly even as a flash of lightning cut through the swirling blacks and blues of a stormy sky.

He waited until the angry roar of the thunder had rolled past and then smiled up at Thorin encouragingly.

"It is just like you—monumental, potentially lethal, and utterly beautiful—wouldn't you agree?"

Sputtering, Thorin took another gulp of his drink to gain some time; he never quite knew how to reply to the poetic declarations of admiration and love Bilbo came up with every so often.

"I am hardly a force of nature," he then opined feebly, "otherwise, I would have finished the fence you've asked me to build."

Waving an indolent hand, Bilbo lifted his own glass to his quirking lips.

"Never mind the fence now, dearest heart, we'll have plenty of time for that, once the storm is over. Let's just sit here and admire our half-finished work."

"Hobbits," Thorin muttered under his breath with undeniable affection; these strangely resilient, pugnacious creatures seemed to delight in all things natural in ways he was only beginning to fully comprehend.

There was an innate fearlessness about Bilbo that never stopped amazing and humbling Thorin.

While he had not been afraid of thunderstorms for many long years, the dwarven king would not have claimed that he enjoyed them immensely hitherto.

Now, he was willing to amend that assessment though for he could not deny that there was something profoundly comforting and cosy about the way Bilbo was curled up against his ribs, sighing every time the storm unleashed its destructive violence upon the unsuspecting but enduring land.

When the pitter-patter of rain turned into a vehement, deafening downpour, Thorin even found himself smiling with quiet satisfaction.

"Will your flowers survive?" he asked teasingly.

"Of course," Bilbo replied with all the vexation of an experienced gardener. "The Shire blossoms are hardier than they look."

"Don't I know that?" Thorin chuckled and pressed a tender kiss onto the mop of ever-curlier hair—the moisture and static in the air exacerbated the naturally messy look of that tangle of honey-coloured locks in unexpected but delightful ways indeed.

To his surprise, Bilbo turned away from the window and tilted his face up to welcome another onslaught of quite a different kind than the one they were witnessing still from the corners of their eyes.

Instead of punishing droplets of water, his soft skin was soon covered with passionate kisses.

In many a way, it felt as if the unbridled enthusiasm of the tempest was infectious and had invaded their very systems to cleanse them of old inhibitions.

Hidden from any prying eyes by a curtain of rain and the impenetrable darkness of the storm, they held on to each other desperately, clutching blindly at clothes and exchanging messy, sticky kisses.

"Oh, how I love you," Thorin exclaimed ardently as he drained his glass before plunging back into the bottomless pit of Bilbo's desire.

Much later, he lazily looked up from where he lay on the floor—comfortably entangled in Bilbo's limbs—to the deserted windowsill.

Picking up his empty glass, he gave it a little shake.

"Would it be too much to ask to beg for a refill? I think it shall be storming for another few hours."

Heavy-lidded and sleepy, Bilbo raised his head as well; his pride did not allow him to let any guest of this house go thirsty, so he pulled himself up slowly.

"You want to go on watching?" he asked, sincerely astonished.

Thorin merely hummed his acquiescence and winked conspiratorially.

"I'll get the blankets and you get the drinks?"

"It's a date," Bilbo laughed and sauntered back into the kitchen, his heart full and his stomach empty.

Eyeing the box of freshly baked scones sitting on the counter, he shrugged and grabbed it along with their topped-up glasses. A part of him sincerely hoped that this tempest would never end.

@fellowshipofthefics This kicks off the third week.

Lots of love from me!

[artichokefartichoke]