#THUNDER

[ensemblewithsenpai]

Apr 26th: New characters introduced during the 9th anniversary livestream! Names from left to right:

Nice Arneb Thunder - Esu Sagiri - Ibuki Taki - Kanna Natsu - Fuyume Hanamura - Raika Hojo

#enstars #ensemble stars #anniversary #nice arneb thunder #esu sagiri #ibuki taki #kanna natsu #fuyume hanamura #raika hojo

[ezlo-x]

I think fan fic writers who use AI on their fics deserve a million thunderbolts be casted upon them

#honestly just writers in general #oh you need AI to write you YOUR story?? thunder be casted upon ye #like get with everybodys level and use your brain 🙄 #txt

[kindaorangey]

jean should collect homoerotic codependent partners professionally

#jean moreau #thats zane in the back btw #what if we were roommates and i made up a nickname for u based off of the version of your name that your abuser says is too pretentious.... #and we coveted and vouched for each other until you betrayed me (except not really) and i betrayed you in the worst way imaginable.. #and we were both boys......... #kevin day #jeremy knox #neil josten #zane reacher #aftg #all for the game #the sunshine court #aftg tsc #everyone big up short kings neil and jeremy for carrying this art's composition #also i know its not necessarily canon that jean has a thing for neil or zane. i just think its interesting to think of the way that #jean gloms onto both of them #like he wanted neil to be kevin's replacement the same way he treats jeremy as riko's replacement #(to mentally fill the hole left by them because he had codependent relationships with both of them) #and yeah yeah the inherent homoeroticism of patching someone up after theyve been wounded #and also neil's killer speech at the end of tsc. i buy into it #oh and he calls neil 'another pretty face' lmfao #jean loves to put himself in positions of hopelessly pining for people hes addicted to it #and i mean that genuinely hes very used to subservience so he tends to perceive & idolise the people he's close to in a very particular way #and that bleeds sooooooo easily into attraction #anyway #thunder's art #described

[lance-thunder-reporting-live]

Good morning Amity Park, I'm your ghostly weatherman, Lance Thunder. Today's Friday, April 26, and there’s a 0% chance of rain and thunderstorms. Highs are in the low sixties, and the lows are in the low thirties.

The Wisconsin ghost was seen again last night outside Fentonworks. He was fought off by Danny Phantom and the Red Huntress, but he was not captured.

Finals week for students at Carrie College starts on May 6th. If you are a student at Carrie, remember to ask for days off work in order to study. And remember that pass or fail, the world will continue to turn and time will continue to pass. Even if it doesn’t go as planned, your life will go on. It won’t be the end of the world.

The Fentons will likely not be driving today.

#danny phantom #lance thunder #unreality #daily report #04/26/07

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Cursed Mirror

Artist: David Gaillet TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$0.51 #david gaillet #cursed mirror #outlaws of thunder junction commander #artifact

[eclown4hire]

#hes so cute to me. sorry im like actually a niceP. #Nice Arneb Thunder #my art #enstars

[actuallylgp]

Anyways we finally got more Nice Arneb Thunder. The only thing that matters on this blog

#✧panda shush #nice arneb thunder

[rebeccathenaturalist]

I miss storms.

Growing up in the Midwest, I was scared of them. Tornado drills in school from a young age brought home the fact that one of these destructive maelstroms could come through and wipe an entire town off the map in minutes. Twister came out when I was in high school, fueling both fascination and fear when we watched it in a science class so we could pick apart the fact and fiction. And I was terrified of getting caught out in one if I had walked too far from home, and up from the southwest came dark clouds, wind, and a growl of thunder in the distance. Yet I also felt security as the winds blew around the house, tucked into my bed in the dark; so long as a tornado didn't snake down from the sky, I could rest amid the thunder and lightning, watching the trees blown back and forth by the wind.

But when I moved to the Pacific Northwest in 2006, I found after a few years that I began to miss them. It wasn't just that their relative infrequency had defanged them. Rather, I found that the part of me that curled up while the wind howled and the sky rumbled missed the feeling of safety amid the chaos. Sure, there was always the chance that factors would align to bring a powerful spiraling juggernaut racing across the land, but the vast majority of the time things passed without incident, other than perhaps a few small branches and leaves washed into the storm drain by a sudden torrent.

The few true thunderstorms that raged when I lived in Portland, and then on the coast, became special occasions. Unless I was absolutely uninterruptible, I would stop whatever I was doing, turn off the lights if it was dark, and bear silent witness to the passing of the flashes of light and their resultant chorus. Sometimes there would be no more than one or two distant disturbances to the south or the north; other times we would get a few minutes that almost--but not quite--felt like being back in the Ozarks on a muggy summer evening. These times became so special to me that if my partner were awake later than I was as was often the case, and a storm rolled in, he would gently wake me and sit with me while we enjoyed the show together, before I drifted back to sleep.

So now that I come back here a couple of times a year, I always hope that there will be a storm or two. And as I write this, the southern edge of a storm brushes past Rolla, following I-44 toward St. Louis. It's not an especially wild beast here; the leaves barely move, the rain drops sluggishly, and the thunder only occasionally speaks a ways away. But I am curled up in my old bedroom, blinds open to watch the lightning flash, listening to spatters against the windows.

#lightning #thunder #storms #thunderstorms #weather #rain #nature writing #nature #writing #Missouri #Ozarks #Midwest #Pacific Northwest

[kindaorangey]

relationships should be 50/50 i pine for you openly and you don't do anything about it out of respect for my past trauma

#jerejean #tsc spoilers #aftg tsc #thunder rambles

[lance-thunder-reporting-live]

So like

Is your ghostly obsession the news? Like if people stopped listening, would you go all lunch lady on us and start throwing broadcasts around?

I don’t know. I don’t think so?

#danny phantom #lance thunder #unreality #asks

[sharpenededges]

Struck by lightning : Side Effects

#dark aesthetics #gothic #goth aesthetic #gothcore #fashion #art #photography #grunge aesthetic #thunderstorm #thunder #body art #visual arts #night aesthetic #grunge

[ask-theconsoleponies]

I love ya PS2! You were my childhood and I still play your system to this day!

Love you too by the way...

(Of course once again, I decided to go for a more classic style which I really enjoyed so much with PS2 here!)

#post #asktheconsoleponies #console ponies #marytheechidna #mlp #mlp ask blog #my little pony #thunder art #playstation #ps2

[ensemblewithsenpai]

Apr 26th: The promotional video for Main Story: Audition has been released.

#enstars #ensemble stars #anniversary #nice arneb thunder #esu sagiri #ibuki taki #kanna natsu #fuyume hanamura #raika hojo

[sculptorofcrimson]

Without Him

The Custodes, the perfect and the golden, aren’t they just beautiful? 

Aren’t they just a horrifying, broken concept to hyperfixate on?

Brought to life by the breathe of a half-god, created for nothing but the weight of your duty and knowing nothing but adoration for the Emperor, feeling nothing but overwhelming obedience when you gaze upon Him, and nothing but lasting emptiness when you gaze inside. He walks among you, He orders and commands and you obey, all is well, all is as it should you, with the servants plodding along the Master’s orders. Obeying His every whims, all is well, all is right. 

You are perfect. You are golden. You are glorious and you are hollow and you are filled with nothing but the shadow of His glory. The truth lies as barren as snowbeaten rock. He hollowed you out, and now He shall breathe life into your senseless corpse. What are you? What are you but the dregs of His dream? What are you without His last dying gasp rattling through your bones? 

Do you even have a will? Are you even human anymore - less- are you even living, when life itself has been drained of all honor? What are you, when you can’t even dream for yourself? What have you for ambition, when you cannot even fathom a dream? 

And the bite of betrayal. The cracklings of heresy. You are broken. You are hollow. You are imperfect. You have failed. The truth lies as barren as flesh flayed bone. The first, unhidden, beautiful, horrifying breath of freedom, the first tears to fall as you screamed for a dead master. As He fell, as you failed, as He died. The first breaking of the cycle. A servant without a master, a perfect creation out of tune, with its core snapped out, its tubes cracked, its broken machinery on display. The Throne is hollow now. The Palace is empty. The Master’s house has been broken by the Master’s tools. 

You have failed. You have failed Him. You have forsaken your duty. 

You have broken your oaths.

What does it feel like, to dream? To dream in the shadow of obedience? To dream as the Thunder Legionnes Primarch dreamed so long ago, to dream as the High Lord dreamt so long ago, to dream as the Astartes once dreamt before you snuffed them out? What does it even feel like, to hurt, to pain, to suffer for anyone else? What does it even feel like to mourn, captain-general? Can you even remember?

The truth lies as hollow as your king’s decaying bones. How fragile. How despicable. Decaying. Covered in dust. Ruined. Broken and abused. Would you wish to dream? Do you wish to embrace what it feels like to be flawed again, to know how to live, if even it was for a moment, in a flare of agony from death to death, siphoning and leeching scant moments of humanity from the haft of the Apollonian Spear as you taste the lie seeping out of broken limbs? Feeling the last sediments of agony, of sensation, slipping through a sinking mind mired in ash, seeing the moments of another worthless man’s life flash through your hollow mind, filling you with memories that were never yours and could never be, watching what have been robbed, stolen, forever lost to you now? And just what perversion of a dream is that, Constantin Valdor? 

Would you have taken the bargain, if you had know the price?

Do you even care anymore? 

Damned together now. Damned together in failure. You failed Him, and He died. He died, and you failed. You left Him behind when He fell and you didn’t, when you failed to trade your life for His as any loyal servant should have. In that, you were broken, and He abandoned you when He died ten thousand years ago. The grieving remnants of your Order was left behind, their silence as fragile as a wailing beast’s grovellings, and you left them. Those servants, who were made to love Him, who never knew if He loved them back yet ached for it. The oldest bond between Master and Slave, now broken. 

(Is there forgiveness? Can there ever be atonement for the crime of your failure?)

Do you ever wonder anymore, in the absence of His light? Do you ever, tentatively at first, retracing memories He wiped out, a mind too ravaged to even pain exploring a past He burned to oblivion, wondering what you were, wondering what you could’ve been. Reliving memories with perfect recall yet broken understanding, those conversations with the Cataegis, the screams in the frost, the simple horror of the betrayal. Do you resent them, for being what you could not? For having what you, and your brethren, in all their perfection, could never achieve? Did you even have the privilege of knowing resentment?

Do you hate them for being better at living, at being human, instead of eking out an existence without substance, an immortality without life? Do you hate the way they looked up in reverence, do you loathe their conviction, their justice, the way they trusted so blindly in their own foolish, naive, ignorant, human way, when they loved Him, and felt His wrath? 

The Primarchs you sentenced to death on Ararat. They looked at you with such hollowness burned into their gaze, knowing they’re here to be slain, knowing you’re here to kill them, knowing they - the Judas lamb - had led their troops here to die and be slaughtered. Do you resent them too? Can you know resentment? Some had fought against you. Some had raged, screamed against the dying of the light. One, even, had escaped. But the worst just looked on, with those sickeningly human eyes, in simple, broken and numb horror as their world dissolved, as they cried out for unity and heard the blade fall. Do you resent them too? Do you resent them, for you could never resent what you’ve done, for He would not let you? 

(A tool that loathes its own sacrifice is no tool at all. You may not love the slaughter, but you no longer have the right to hate it. Kill for Him. Kill for Him, it is what good hunting hounds do.)

Do you even regret the bones upon the snow? 

You failed. And the brokenness will never leave.

Do you even know hate anymore? Can you even hate anymore? Has that too been eroded? Do you hate for Him, do you hate what you have accomplished, do you hate the man you could have been but never was? For he could have been a better servant, a better man, a better captain-general, if only He had given him the right to dream? 

You failed. You failed, and now the leash you’ve lived under for so long is broken, the chains are shattered, the Order has crumbled into ruins. They live on, but how could the body do any more than endure when its heart - its mind - has been ruptured, its primal arteries torn away, left with nothing else than to preserve its bones for eternity? 

What of your lost brothers? Do you ever wonder what they could have been, if you had not fetched them from weeping mothers and brought them before your lord to be turned into His tools? Do you regret? Have you ever cared at all?

You are perfect. You are broken. You are the Custodes, and ten thousand years ago you failed. Your brethren failed the Emperor. You were built to serve a god, not until even you die, but until even eternity burns out, until the foundations of civilization crumble, and kings and emperors decay. You were perfect, once, but there was a flaw in His design. He could not have tolerated true perfection, if not for His own. He does not err, He desecrates, as He has desecrated the holy texts when He built His angels. 

You are not perfect. He built you to be flawed. He built you without a dream, without even a mind of your own, without even the will to question or care, without even the hate to ponder and rage against such a cruel existence. He built you without pain, without even loss, with nothing but an eternity of trudging onwards for scraps of His love. 

But what happens now? What happens now when you have failed so utterly in your duty? What happens now when His love is no more, but your obsession no less painful, your existence no less empty? What happens now when the part He ripped away and replaced with Himself is hollowed out again, when nothing is left behind but a gaping wound where a heart once was? What happens now, when the servants no longer have a king?

#wh40k #warhammer 40k #sculptor of crimson #constantin valdor #warhammer #adeptus custodes #wh40k writing prompts #emperor of mankind #thunder warriors

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | 4.6 Quest Avatars (1/5)

Download Link (Google Drive)

#genshin impact #companion icons #npc icons #hanachirusato #kazari #neko #ruu #thundering manifestation #inazuma #pngs

[kindaorangey]

i always forget how intensely aang is my favourite character in atla. but he rly rly is

#thunder rewatches atla #my everlasting weakness for good protagonists #let it be known that if the main protagonist of the story is a well-crafted character then they will be my favourite. every time. #its an illness originating from when i first read aftg in 2017..