laughing storm @stormforgedrascal - Tumblr Blog

𝔹𝔸ℝ𝔸𝕋ℍ𝔼𝕆ℕ … a private and selective portrayal of the laughing storm, heir to the stormlands, lyonel baratheon. show-based. 18+, oc and crossover friendly, est. 2026. knighted by jae (he/they).

an exploration of: the chaotic-neutral, the dionysian ideal, the joyous warrior, boisterous courage, revelry and riot, a tempestuous soul, defiance and rebellion.

#carrd. / #ask memes. / #pinterest. / #study. / #hcs.

𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 / 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 : @sigilstag && @heartofchivalry && @misvos .

Visit Original Link

inbox: 13 / drafts: 11 / queue: 16 thread tracker

CURRENT DUTIES: ✴ worldbuilding headcanons ( youth, the stormlands, lightning strikes, mounts ) ✴ verses write up ✴ answer IMs !!

status: low activity.

blogroll: @stormforgedrascal , @saviorsofstars , @butlerbarrow , @silvertongued-trickster (hiatus)

#pinned post .#carrd updated: 17-03-2026 .

stormforgedrascal

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 … sharp, cold & bracing, but lyonel baratheon doesn't flinch. he stands on the large, craggy rock like he was carved for it; boots planted wide, shoulders squared against the wind that tears at his hair and clock. the world is loud here — waves crashing against the shore, the wind howling, the gulls crying overhead. loud, chaotic, and alive. it suits him well.

he tips his head back slightly, amber eyes half-lidded as he watches the horizon churn. that thin line where sky bleeds into sea is restless today, shifting and breaking and reforming with every swell. there is a storm brewing. lyonel breaths it in; the salt, the cold, the sharp tang of incoming lightening.

he laughs. a small chuckle at first, breaking free from his lips as he smiles, but quickly transforming into something loud enough to rival thunder. there is a wildness threaded through the moment, as the spray hits again, harder this time, flecking across his jaw — like an old lover caressing his face. he exhales, slow and steady, and lets the wind steal the breath from his lips.

and lyonel stands tall, braced, ready, like he's daring the sea to rise higher, daring the world to shift beneath him, daring the storm to claim him.

an open starter?? or just some character analysis. (idk bro but I've been spending a lot of time near the sea recently and felt every lyonel about it.)

#˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }#open starter .#˚ . 𐂂 { study. } … ᵃ ˢʷⁱʳˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵐᵃⁿ .#q .

I can ?? hear a helicopter circling really low near my flat and it's a little concerning??

#like it's almost 11pm ?? what are you doing making all that ruckus??#˚ . 𐂂 { ooc. }

butlerbarrow

#𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | independant, private & selective, rp account for thomas barrow of downton abbey. penned by jae (18+). oc & crossover friendly.

with crossover verses in various historial settings, modern, vampire / supernatural, detroit: become human / sci-fi, and more.

exploring themes of... loneliness, ambition & self preservation. the trappings of the class system, the 'reformed bully', period-typical homophobia, forbidden love & queer longing.

carrd. / blog

(x)

#my little gay disaster </3 #little bitch boy #self promo .#i might make him a asoiaf verse tbh. it's pretty easy to just transplant him into any verse with servants

"We stand apart, yet sometimes I feel we’re not so different."

𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓. the storm lord hums slightly in response, nodding minutely as he raises his own cup to his lips and drains the remainder of its contents. a hand reaches for the half empty bottle of wine, moves to refill his cup before extending the to daeron’s, offering to refill his in the same motion.

❝are we all so different, truly? ❞ he offers, soft are the words, murmured low in the early morning thrum of the camp. he sits contently on the hill overlooking the multi-coloured tents that litter the tourney grounds. it is quiet now, but soon the sun will rise, as will knights and servants. in a matter of hours the grounds will become a hub of activity once more. but, for now, it is almost peaceful ...

❝burdened by titles, responsibilities, the legacies and the wrongdoings of our fathers and forefathers … ❞

OPPOSITE HOUSES: THESE VIOLENT ENDS HAVE VIOLENT DELIGHTS

@dreamplagued

#dreamplagued #˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }#˚ . 𐂂 { answered. }#q .

dazaismemes

Muse talking about the mun

Send me a symbol for my muse to answer these questions about the mun!

👀 Do the mun and you get along?

✌ Is there anything you dislike about the mun?

👋 Do you and the mun agree on something?

✍ Has the mun some special talents beside writing?

🙏 Do you think the mun would be able to survive in your world?

✨ Does the mun read fanfictions and if yes, what is your opinion on them?

🎉 Does the mun likes to go to parties or not?

🎁 Is the mun good at taking compliments or not?

🎀 What does the mun have for a music taste? Do you like it?

🎨 What are the mun’s hobbies?

👗 How is the mun’s fashion sense?

✂ Did the mun ever do something to make you jealous?

⏳ How much time does the mun spend on your blog?

🍨 What is the mun’s favorite ice cream flavour?

🍪 Does the mun like sweets?

🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on?

🍀 What is your opinion on the layout of the blog the mun did for you?

⭐ Is there any genres the mun enjoys writing but you don’t enjoy being part of?

🌟 Is there any genres the mun doesn’t enjoy writing but you enjoy being part of?

☀ Does the mun listen to you while writing or not?

🌙 Does the mun stay up long or goes to bed early?

⚡ What is the mun’s favorite weather?

❄ Did the mun ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do?

💧 How often do you annoy the mun? And with what?

🔥 How would you spend one day with the mun if you could?

☀ Does the mun have other muses beside you? What is your opinion on them?

#this seems fun #˚ . 𐂂 { inbox. } … ʷʰʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗᵉⁿᵗ ?

added a thread tracker to my pinned.

#most of the things I've queued or replied to are in here #there are some drafts I haven't added yet tho!#˚ . 𐂂 { ooc. }

hell-propaganda

“violence isn’t the answer” it’s an answer

#˚ . 𐂂 { study. } … ᵃ ˢʷⁱʳˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵐᵃⁿ .

hell yeah. done a LOT of writing today

#˚ . 𐂂 { ooc. }

em1e

what made u guys pick ur url's !

#... lyonel is a little rascal #and has been shaped and forged by the storms that give his home its name #˚ . 𐂂 { ooc. }#˚ . 𐂂 { dash games. }

"You think peace is possible after all you've done?"

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖌 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘𝖓’𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖙 𝖆𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 ... he goes still. that is the first warning. jaw locked, shoulders square, and for a heartbeat he looks almost calm. but the rumblings of anger are deep-rooted, like the low rumble of thunder that hails an encroaching storm.

❝ all that I have done ...? ❞ the words come out low and hissing, venom laced through the tone of them, shaped like the angry froth of sea spray crashing against the shore. he steps in close. sharp amber gaze pinpointed on the young prince, focused in like a target, furious and wild, yet controlled ... the kind of anger that has a direction, a purpose, a memory.

❝ you think I am the cause of your crumbling house? you think baelor died because of me? say it plainly if you mean it.❞ he doesn’t wait for the young prince’s response, the lecture tumbles forth. an unrelenting tirade raining down on the young dragon.

❝ I did not call for the trial. I did not swing the mace at your father. I did not force him to fight, nor did I drag him before the gods and ask him to make a mockery of them. I did not make him spit on the oaths sworn by men who should have protected him. he chose his path. he chose to defy the seven and the kingsguard both.❞ voice rises — cutting and cruel, each word like a blade laid down with precision, stabbing at festering old wounds.

❝ your family has not known peace in generations. so don’t you fucking dare lay that at my feet. maekar snarls at anyhing that breathes wrong, daeron drinks himself into a stupor before the sun sets, and aerion - seven fucking save us - burns through the realm like a fever and is now carted off to lys because no one here can stomach him! and you, you are here dwelling on ghosts and seeking to place blame on anyone else’s shoulders. madness, cruelty, pride, that is the legacy you were born into and that is why you know no peace. baelor’s death did not start your house’s collapse. it was already cracking, already rotting from the inside.❞ a snarl, growling low in the storm lord’s chest as he leans in, jabbing a ringed finger at the young prince’s chest, sharp and accusatory.

❝ if you wish to spit your grief in my face, do it. but don’t you fucking dare insinuate that all of this is MY fault. if you want someone to blame for the lack of peace, look to your own blood. to their tempers, their vices, their cruelties. I didn’t cause them, I didn’t encourage them, and I will not be blamed for them!❞

OPPOSITE HOUSES: THESE VIOLENT ENDS HAVE VIOLENT DELIGHTS

@misvos

#are u ready for angst >:)#sorry this is mostly dialogue ... but the descriptions aren't hitting rn #misvos #˚ . 𐂂 { misvos / valarr & lyonel. } … ˡⁱᵍʰᵗⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʸⁱᵉˡᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵃᵍᵒⁿᶠⁱʳᵉ .#˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }#maybe an alternative way things occurred ?? where instead of comforting valarr ... this happens ??#or it's way after the fact. their first argument after lyonel has been there trying to help valarr through his grief and smth triggers this

@knightsigils continued from this thread ; ( wouldn't let me reblog what I had in my drafts so I just copied over and continued in a new post hope that's okayyy <3 )

pale brows knit, chortle meets his ears; causes them to prick. a challenge arises, as doth pride. dragons. ever scaled *&. silven-head raised meet such with fire. fourth prince is a creature of bluntness; yet dagger-edged. yet softened within this candle lit tent. made less a weapon, perhaps . . . perhaps made more a person 'neath scrutiny. POOR LAST SON. / FATHER OF MISBEGOTS. he knows the tattles of court; this very meadow. wounds, he tilts his chin toward . . . the stag's hand lays heavy on the meat of his thigh, another oddly tender to replant the crown. clumsy *&. drunk. the motion. the intent leave maekar stupefied. a princely hum leaves him. nails digging crescents as he wishes to take the warmth. affection. a longing that he abhors. he is talented with boasts, with insults *&. wintertime.

something instinctual arises. his roughen warrior hand rises, pushing the storm stag away. ' ha .ᐟ is it not you who gives these to others .ᐣ i should say it is you who cannot bear weight, thunderhead .ᐟ ' an offer of brawl or dance, what may ever have them. what ever this was. a dragon defiant; demanding :

WILL YOU MEET ME .ᐣ / @stormforgedrascal

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 — bright, fragile, and wine-soft — the storm lord’s ringed hand squeezes slightly against the warmth of maekar’s thigh, fingers tightening just enough to make the contact intentional. he doesn’t hide the way dark amber gaze travels ... from lilac hues, to the line of the dragon’s lips, and back once more, dancing between the shape of the prince’s features. the proximity is, itself, a challenge. unruly lord pushing the blurred line between them ... further into impertinence, further into something provocative. a dark brow quirks only slightly, small and suggestive.

lyonel baratheon is not a subtle man, nor has he ever tried to be. his intentions are surely clear ... wine drunk , seeking heat ... perhaps dragonfire will warm him in the way he so clearly craves.

princely hand plants against him, rough and decisive, and the stag goes with it — let’s himself be pushed, lets the momentum tip him back into his own chair. the shove is firm enough to jolt him from the moment. and lyonel laughs. a loud, delighted sound, rolling forth like thunder, as he sprawls back into the seat. grin wide, limbs loose and flowing, he lets one leg swing up to rest lightly across maekar’s own — boldly reclaiming the space his hand once occupied. another dare. a question. a spark.

❝ oh, can bear it just fine. ❞ a snort, a dismissive wave of a hand. the crown of antlers still gleams atop the prince’s head, and lyonel’s eyes catch on it again, fondness blooming in his chest. ❝ I like seeing who can carry it... baratheon heraldry suits you — all my golds and yellows — you should let me put more of it on you... ❞

or remove it all in it’s entirety.

#s IGH lyonel tryna smash the targs again #fork found in kitchen #˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }

brightflme

With the faltering of the Laughing Storm’s smile and his hiss of pain, Aerion’s mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. His dagger didn’t waver. It was pressed close enough that Aerion could feel the Laughing Storm’s pulse, steady as a war drum. The tent had fallen deathly quiet, with only the sound of the fires burning. “There’s never enough blood to honour the dragon.” Aerion said, his bruised eye throbbing and every breath feeling like a stab in his ribs. The Hedge Knight had hurt him more than Aerion would ever admit, but this was about honour. They’d all heard the whispers. There were those who had whispered that the realm was better with one less dragon in the world. Others celebrated, raising a glass in honour of the Hedge Knight. Celebrating the man who caused all of this.

Aerion leaned in closer, a sharp smile across his mouth. “Tell me, Lord Baratheon, have you spoken to the Hedge Knight since the trial?” It wasn’t a secret that Lyonel favoured him. Aerion heard how he’d brought his own maester to tend to the man. A lord of Storm’s End pledging to a no-named hedge knight, knighted by some old man no one could remember. “I heard his wound was festering; perhaps the gods will deem it so for him to lose an arm.” Or die screaming from the rot. Aerion didn’t know which one he’d prefer.

stormforgedrascal

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖆 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖊𝖗 as lyonel shifts ever-so-slightly, features twitching with a coiled energy, barely restrained. still, though, the storm lord forces himself into stillness ( an unnatural thing, for him ). a deliberate easing of his posture, shoulders lowering as much as they are able to considering his own injuries, and the twisted position aerion has pinned him in. amber hues flicker across the prince's face as he leans closer — that sneering smile, that bruised and bloodied eye ( serves him right, the little cunt, he deserves it ) — still, the stag schooled his own expressions into something unnaturally stoic. if aerion is trying to provoke him … expecting heat, fury and outrage … well, lyonel certainly isn't going to give him the satisfaction of it.

❝ aye. ❞ the storm lord responds, voice low. no tremor, no challenge, just a simple solid truth. ❝ I saw him.❞ he recalls the way ser duncan lay slumped against the elm like a corpse already, while lyonel's own maester poked and prodded at his wounds, gave his grim diagnosis. he will be fine, the storm lord had resolved … he prays hopes. but aerion doesn't need to hear all that, instead he simply offers the prince a steady tone, almost infuriatingly even;

❝ the gods will do as they will.❞ he has to resist the urge to shrug, lest he press too close to the blade still pointed at his throat.

#brightflme #˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }#q .

hunt-the-hare

@stormforgedrascal liked for holly 2 kill someone !!!!

Hands gather skirts, blood smears the delicate silk of her gown. Heart pumps in her chest so hard she thinks it might burst out, leaving an even bloodier mess in her wake. Feet pad against the stone steps, nearly tripping on her way up. Chest rises as she sucks in a breath and suddenly her corset feels too tight to breathe and panic sets in as eyes search for the only person she thinks would even remotely care. Holly hopes she's not wrong about that.

Door after door is pushed open until finally the right one is shoved. Eyes set on the Baratheon, backing up into the door once the room has been entered, shutting it behind her. There's not much else movement, aside from the heaving of chest and the frightened look on her blood splattered face, ever the scared fawn being caught by a hunting party.

stormforgedrascal

𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖒𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘𝖓’𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖘, only the violence of the sudden interruption - the way that the heavy door slams against the wall, the shaking sound of someone’s breath breaking apart. lyonel is on his feet in an instant, chair scraping sharply across the floor, every instinct snapped taut like a bowstring. brows furrow tight in confusion as amber gaze flickers over her. he sees the blood, the ruined silk of her skirts, and the way she’s pressed herself back against the door like she’s holding it shut against wolves.

❝ holly…⁈ ❞ it comes out rough, startled, almost sounding too loud in the tense air betwixt them. the storm lord flies forward towards her, hands half-raised like he’s afraid any sudden movement might shatter her further.

❝ what— ❞ his voice breaks, resets to something immeasurably softer. concern lacing his tone. ❝ what happened? are you hurt⁇ ❞ he’s already scanning her, dark amber eyes darting over her arms, her throat, her hands, searching for the source of the blood. his breath stutters for a second when he doesn’t immediately find it. for a brief moment panic flickers across his features — not anger or accusation, just raw fear — that is not her blood. the wild look is gone almost as soon as it appears on his features. his jaw locks, shoulders squaring into something steady as reason, training, and that ingrained instinct to protect first, panic later takes over, his jaw sets in a firm line.

❝ look at me— ❞ his tone soft, warm and steady, despite the way his own pulse is hammering as he attempts to catch her gaze with his own. he doesn’t touch her first — he won’t risk startling her — but steady hands hover near her elbows, ready to catch her if her knees give out.

❝ —whose blood is this? ❞ he almost doesn’t want to know ...

#hunt-the-hare #˚ . 𐂂 { ic. }

noahsresources

PROMPTS FOR MUSES WHO ARE LITTLE SHITS™ !

for all the muses out there who like to mess with others!! mainly meant for platonic relationships, but can be used for romantic & antagonistic relationships as well! feel free to modify any pronouns, descriptor words, & objects for your needs!

FROM THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ how'd you like the fake spider in your room? ❞ ❝ hang on a second, i'm gonna record this — ❞ ❝ i took 20 bucks out of your bag last night. ❞ ❝ alright, that's it, time for the tickle monster treatment! ❞ ❝ oh, yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? ❞ ❝ i think i might have accidentally just hurt myself again. ❞ ❝ what makes you think you can possibly take me? ❞ ❝ outta the way, i was here first! ❞ ❝ sorry, i lost that a little while ago. ❞ ❝ hey, come on! it was just a prank! ❞ ❝ i'm seriously thinking about forcing that secret out of you. ❞ ❝ wait, did YOU say you wanted the last piece of pie in the fridge? 'cause i kinda just ate it ... ❞

actions. [ SING ] — sender starts singing raunchy lyrics around receiver [ WRESTLE ] — sender attempts to start play-fighting with receiver [ FINGER ] — sender flips receiver the bird [ LAUGH ] — sender tries to make receiver laugh [ LEAN ] — sender puts their full weight on receiver [ COLD ] — sender puts their cold fingers under receiver's shirt [ DRIVE ] — sender begins to drive very fast with receiver in the car with them [ FOOD ] — sender steals a bite of receiver's food when they're not looking [ BLANKET ] — sender pulls receiver's blanket off them while they're half-asleep [ PRANK ] — sender pulls a prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

FOR THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ hey, stop that! ❞ ❝ careful, i just got that new furniture. ❞ ❝ okay, okay, i'll do anything, just please stop tickling me ... ! ❞ ❝ god, you're such an asshole! ❞ ❝ i swear, if you do that one more time ... ❞ ❝ i didn't actually think it was that funny. ❞ ❝ aw, dammit, you broke it! ❞ ❝ you can't go 24 hours without having some kind of accident, huh? ❞ ❝ you just cheated! i watched you! ❞ ❝ if you even think about messing with me today, i will end you. ❞ ❝ are you drunk or something? because that was some of the weirdest shit i've ever heard. ❞ ❝ okay, i won't lie, that was actually pretty funny. ❞

actions. [ HEADLOCK ] — sender puts receiver in a headlock [ CHASE ] — sender chases receiver around in frustration [ RUN ] — sender runs from receiver to avoid being pranked/scared [ NUDGE ] — sender briskly nudges receiver in response to a snarky comment [ IGNORE ] — sender pretends to ignore receiver [ PULL ] — sender is dragged into pulling a prank with the sender [ CLEAN ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's mess [ WIPE ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's injuries after pulling a stunt that doesn't end well [ LEAVE ] — sender storms off in frustration after being messed with by receiver [ REVENGE ] — sender pulls a revenge prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

#lmao he is a little shit #˚ . 𐂂 { inbox. } … ʷʰʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗᵉⁿᵗ ?

*rattling the bars of my cage* arranged marriages !!!!

#soft ones between friends that eventually blossom into love!#built on mutual respect and care !!#angsty ones between strangers!#leaving each person feeling trapped and LONELIER than before.#political alliances that backfire horrifically !!#two rival houses trying to repair the rift between them by pairing off their relatives !!#GIMME GIMME #PUT LYONEL INTO SITUATIONS #˚ . 𐂂 { wishlist. }

mcflymemes

please don't mistake silence for hatred. please don't mistake unanswered plotting messages as indifference, or a lack of enthusiasm towards you. considering the ages of most roleplayers, many of us have bills to pay, families to take care of, medical conditions to treat, appointments to make, classes to take, homes to clean, and lives to live away from the computer that are far, far more important than writing on tumblr — life has a tendency to get in the way of hobbies and fun things like this. be patient with your fellow writers. if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. of course you can set your boundaries, keep your space comfortable, and softblock whoever you wish, but do so while recognizing it's probably not hatred or apathy that keeps them from leaping into your dms with message after message. they probably love this hobby just as much as you... but sometimes life gets in the way.

#˚ . 𐂂 { ooc. }#˚ . 𐂂 { psa. }

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