#storm uprising

[k4r4ss]

I watched the trailer and immediately made up a fanfic in my head based on 0.75 seconds in which we were shown the Decepticon high command

[oracle-cassandra]

Women have so many hurtful words and slurs associated with them (i.e. whore, slut, bitch, etc) and I hate them with a passion and I abhor the weight they hold. It's beyond overdue for some words to be created and popularized to use for men.

Ones that come to mind are:

Kevin

scrote

I am 100% serious about this

[shisasan]

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), dir. Francis Ford Coppola

[syvisvt]

Time to face the storm once more!

the 1.0 release of Against The Storm looks incredible!

So join me as we try out hooded horses claim to fame, the magnum opus of rogue-lite city building!

[ask-sebastian]

I'm just warning ya it might be a few Muse songs in this list. 😏

I've shown you this before, this song is actually from a Need for Speed game I had on the Nintendo DS.

Honestly, I'm getting pumped already.

Maybe you can rearrange them a bit, so we don't get Muse back to back?

(I'm so sorry if people don't like Muse 😭it's my favourite band)

It's a bit slower, maybe we got stuck in traffic.

hmm I know some people don't like Rammstein... but I do, so tough luck.

Oh I'm at 10 songs already... but there wasn't a limit, was there? *evil smirk* incoming another music owl.

Zu coming in hot pursuit! I love that your pumped. We love the energy.

Also, there is no such thing as too much Muse. Never apologise!

Sabotage - Beastie Boys

[technicianuprisingau]

A Spark of Hope Under the Stormy Night

Wake up babe. New Technician Uprising content dropped

I asked some mutuals for prompts, and @azzie-tangerine asked for something related to storm. So... welp, free reunion during the storm it is.

There will be one more (or maybe two) eventually, so uhm, look forward to that.

For now, you are all permitted to cry

[solar-siren]

Angstpril Day Twenty-Six: Storm

The scan is blinding in its intensity, grating and invasive. Tron flinches away as if it’s something physical he could ward off. Even that small movement causes a bright flare of pain. 

“Easy,” Cyrus says, gentle, as if  he’s  the beta. “Try to keep still.”

For a moment Tron has the clarity to wish he’d derezzed. This is mortifying. He’s not supposed to be broken, and if he is he’s not supposed to let others  see . Especially not a program he barely knows, clad in enemy orange. 

The scan blinks out, leaving Tron in blessed isolation once more. 

Cyrus goes quiet. He sits back against the wall, processing the results of the scan. After a micro or so, he says, “I need to see your disc.”

“No.” 

Not again. Never again. The mere suggestion is enough to bring back sensations of  Dyson  rooting through his code, planting that wretched  virus—

But Cyrus is without a trace of that malice. “I need to patch you if we’re going to get out of here. I promise I won’t touch anything else. You have my word.” 

And who are  you?

“How do you know? How to patch?” Tron grates out. 

The beta shrugs, barely visible. “I’m good at fixing things.” 

And breaking them, Tron thinks. He still doesn’t know how the kid took down a recognizer by himself. Apparently he’s full of surprises. 

What are the odds that all of them are good? 

Then again, as far as odds are concerned, his options are either to trust this program or die. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s probably going to die either way. 

The notion is far more frightening than it should be.

[Before I change my mind,] he pings. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. 

Tron raises up as much as he can muster, then collapses scant nanos later. It’s just enough time for Cyrus to unlock his disc. He thinks the kid says something, but he can’t be sure. 

His audio inputs ring with agony. He can barely breathe. That was a mistake. A horrible mistake. All the energy he has left goes into trying not to derezz. Half hysterical, he wonders if he can hold himself together through sheer force of will. 

(‘If anyone could, it would be you,’ he practically hears in Yori’s voice, and that is worse than the pain.) 

“—still with me? Tron?”

A grunt is the only acknowledgment he can afford this time. Cyrus takes it. 

Tron screws his eyes shut as he scrolls through his code.  Don’t flinch. Don’t react. Don’t scream —

“Just patching,” Cyrus says absently. He could take advantage, could dig through Tron’s memories of Flynn, of the ENCOM system. But he doesn’t. 

Tron grits his teeth as the first patch blooms into place. It hurts when they compile, but he slowly begins to feel less and less like he’s going to fall apart. Physically, at least. 

Exhaustion is starting to catch up to him. He feels himself slipping into standby, his systems deciding he’s safe enough for now. (He  must  be damaged to even have such a thought.) 

He’s not sure how long it lasts. He’s half dead to the world when light splits the darkness of the cave. The ground shakes. 

Searchlights. Another recognizer. He can’t fight, can’t even stand—

“You’re safe,” Cyrus mumbles, not looking up from his work. “It’s just a storm.

“...You can rest,” he adds. “I’ll keep watch.” 

Tron believes him—trusts him far too easily.

[thedaniknox]

WE ARE PLAYING ANACHRONOX THE HOTTEST RPG OF 2001

[thecuddlymuffintop]

Shortly, I will be playing Close to the Sun for Short Game Fridays over on my YouTube channel.

You're always welcome to join when I'm live with the above link.

[quarterprioritymidnight]

We need to start a Free Dan campaign!! Let the man live and post and do what he wants!!!!

he was just trying to give a 🎁 2 us lot is that so wrong????

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 6: ENTANGLED

The Red Eye of the Cosmos, of galactic prophecy and some stuff that got caught on it when it was in my tote bag ⭐️💀 A distant echo of thunder rolls over the Infinite Plains. There, in the distance, a speck of blue light stares you down. The so-called “hero”, a name chosen by the feeble Uprising. You spit on the ground, and watch as the saliva sizzles to steam on the hot rock below. Do they not know that under your watchful eye, the galaxy will flourish? That this Uprising sows nothing but chaos and contempt through your perfect, unified kingdom? The speck of blue grows closer, a bright blade illuminated in the dust storm. They only listen to one language - one of burnt flesh, cauterised muscle, and clashing sabers. Wait, you did remember your saber right?? You put your hand to your belt and feel your heart skip a beat as you notice it’s absence at its sheathe. You do a little emergency pat down of your outfit before you remember how you spilt that sauce on the sheathe - the sticky red one - and that it’s back at home drying from the wash. That means… The saber, you sense its presence. It’s in your little tote bag, aaah, okay. You reach in and feel many things in the bag, your phone, water bottle. There’s so many old receipts and bus tickets in here why don’t you just throw them away, and, no way, there’s a rice crispies square in here. How did you forget about that? That’s a little mid afternoon pick me up is what that is. This is such a small bag how could you lose an entire energy saber there’s only so m- there it is!  You pull it up and grimace. It’s all tangled in your headphones and - oh my god no it’s your embarrassing pink hair bobble with the knock off plastic sanrio charm. Your keys are caught up in the whole thing too, the key ring is snagged on the wires of the saber, oh my god this sucks. This sucks absolute ass. You're about to duel for the fate of the galaxy and, yeah, these headphones are really stuck on there, huh. You’re gonna have to unknot them before you can even begin to untangle the rest of this. There’s no time, you’re just gonna have to own it. This is your vibe now. You feel your face flush hot red as the hero begins his monologue, while side eyeing your bedazzled blade. You shift your stance, ready to strike, and take solace in the fact that least nobody will be left to tell this story.

A silly one for this prompt :3c featuring real life accounts of what’s in my bag

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]

THE TIMELINE

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”

- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.

I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC

The gods were angry.

Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.

How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?

Stupid humans, foolish humans.

You didn’t understand.

But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.

The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.

One soul.

They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.

Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.

So they did something about it.

With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.

It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.

He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.

The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.

Bigger, heavier, more powerful.

You dropped your basket and ran.

Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.

You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!

People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.

“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”

The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.

The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.

By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.

As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.

Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?

You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--

Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.

Zeus had landed in Athens.

And you couldn’t find Steve.

Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.

A warning.

The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.

Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.

He had to find you.

The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.

And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.

Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.

He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.

Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.

Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.

Steve didn’t want to die without you.

He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.

A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.

Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.

Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.

You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.

He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.

A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.

Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.

But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.

Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.

The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.

Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.

“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”

A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.

You couldn’t feel anything.

[unapologeticallygay]

a list of (some of) the things we owe to lesbians

the stonewall uprising (x)

pride marches (x)

homosexuality being removed from the dsm (x)

paving the way for the legalization of cross dressing/influencing gnc women’s fashion (x) (x) (x)

aids organizing and care (x) (x) (x)

fighting to include black women and lesbians into feminism/women’s rights movements (x) (x) (x)

black history month in the uk (x)

legalization of gay marriage in the usa (x) (x)

physically protecting the community (from storme delarverie who patrolled gay neighbourhoods to the butches protecting drag story time)

[falling-down-the-scroll-hole]

If you see this image as an icon in your DMs or your activity graph... I have found you... there will be no mercy.

[syvisvt]

I is time for #againstthestorm NOW with chat integration!

Help the elf by joining the council!

Hinder the elf by becoming a forest guardian!

AND MUCH MORE!