#90 degree bolts

[11rosebunny]

How they like to be touched (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

Haruka Sakura

For the love of God please hold his hand and play with his fingers. The second you do that it's possible he could potentially get a fever over 90 degrees. He's not very big on physical touch as many others would think, seen by his behaviour and personality, it almost seems like he hates it because of how nervous he gets.

So when it comes to gentle and thought out touches like holding his pinky and eventually adding two of his fingers to three and holding onto them, he freaks out. In a good way don't worry.

He'll most likely not even look your way when you're holding his hand, afraid he might just burst into a thousand pieces. But to ensure you he's enjoying it, he gives your hand a small squeeze to indicate he feels safe with you.

Hajime Umemiya

Wrapping your arms around his neck. Don't expect to be on your feet whenever you do that because he will start bolting with you in his arms.

He absolutely loves it whenever you hug him from behind if he's crouching down when he's gardening. Hugging him from in front also works for him. But if you're simply just resting your body on his while he's crouching on the ground and you jump on his back, he'll start laughing before standing up and giving you piggy back ride before running around in circles to make you laugh.

Toma Hiragi

Whatever you do, do not caress his face if you're simply just wiping dirt off his cheek, he may or may not give into his intrusive thoughts and bite the shit out of your hand, not out of fear but because he might explode into pieces.

Something about how you stare directly at his face, even if you're not making eye contact with him (he sure as hell is making eye contact with you though) he finds you so beautiful when you're taking care of him.

You'll accuse him of going red but he ends up yelling at you and saying it's because the weather is just hot.

Taiga Tsugeura

As mentioned before, if you ever hold his arm while walking around, sitting on a chair beside him, or if you pull him somewhere to make him look at something, he will now expect you to hold onto his arm for the remainder of the day.

The first time it ever happened he went batshit crazy and couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you, held onto, his arm. He always thinks about if his arms need to be bigger so it would feel comfortable whenever you'd hold onto them.

It makes him feel big and strong, like he can protect you from anything once you do that.

Mitsuki Kiryu

When you play with his hair. The first time you played with it was when you were just bored and decided to braid a few strands of his hair as he was sitting down in front of you on the floor. You were on the couch right above him so it made things even easier. He felt your fingers run through his hair and had to pause his game to process what was happening.

Afterwards, once he felt the way how relaxing and good it felt feeling your fingers run through his hair ever so gently, he sometimes asks you to take out any of his dead hairs as a way to just get you to run your fingers through his hair again.

Hayato Suo

Similar to Sakura, when you intertwine your fingers with him while holding his hand, better if you also run your thumb up and down the flesh of his hand.

He digs for innocent touches and loves to hold hands, even out in public. He doesn't mind who sees him, as long as it's not his group of boys otherwise they'd start asking him the next day with too many questions to answer.

It's become so normalized to him when it comes to holding hands, sometimes he'll just straight up grab yours without even thinking twice.

Jo Togame

He likes touching you more than he like you touching himself. For the most part, he always makes sure you're comfortable and happy and so he touches you in places where he knows you like it, but he doesn't mind it if you touch him back. His favourite way of having physical contact with you is when you're sitting down right beside him so he could place his hand on your inner thigh.

He doesn't do it in any sexual way by any means possible, maybe a few times just to see you go red, but for the most part, he just likes the way it feels. He's a sucker for mitigate acts of touches.

Tomiyama Choji

This one isn't surprising but he likes it when you cuddle with him. He's a very touchy person by heart and will somehow get his hands on you in any way he can, but if you two so happen to be innocently cuddling, he could fall asleep in seconds.

The way your body feels warm and how soft your touches soothe his skin, it makes him melt into a puddle of ice cream, he loves it whenever he feels safe around you.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Your Storm is My Storm

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Is it possible to have trauma from an event you didn't actually experience? You never thought so, but now you are tormented nightly after witnessing Tyler's near death. Luckily, he's there to comfort you and remind you that he made it back to you, and that he's not going anywhere. Word Count: 1976 TW: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death (but not really), Dealing with PTSD, Storm-Related Peril Notes: Huge thank you to @blue-aconite for encouraging me and reading this over, and to @mayhem24-7forever for reminding me to stop doubting myself and just write it already 💕

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

You are standing in the middle of a vast grass field wearing a white cotton dress that billows wildly in the increasing wind. Across the field heading in your direction, you see an oh-so-familiar red Dodge Ram bucking and crashing over the uneven dirt. Even though you are several hundred feet away and the wind whips around with a deafening roar, you hear Tyler whooping loudly, the joyful sound as clear as day in your ears. 

Then, suddenly, you are in the backseat of the truck, watching as Boone leans back to get a better angle of Tyler with his camera. Shifting his focus away from the plain in front of him for a minute, Tyler looks at Boone and gives another rowdy shout before clicking a button on the dashboard. The truck bolts forward at a break-neck speed, heading directly for the dark swirling funnel forming in front of them. 

You try to warn them, to call out and tell them to turn around before it’s too late, but even though you can feel the screams tearing at your throat, not a sound passes from your lips. You lean forward and pull at Tyler’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve so deeply that you are sure you are tearing into his skin, silently pleading, begging him to stop. And yet he doesn’t react. 

Tears are streaming down your face as the truck nears the tornado and skids to a stop. The edge of the storm is licking at the front bumper. Tyler grins at Boone, giving a quick wink to the camera, and says, “Here we go!”

He reaches forward and flips a switch on the center console—and nothing happens. 

For a moment, that cocky grin stays on Tyler’s face but then the realization of what didn’t happen snaps his attention back to the switch. He jiggles it a few times but still nothing. The storm is even closer now, the entire vehicle shaking as the intensity of the winds grows.

Tyler glances at his co-pilot. “Boone…the augers aren’t going down.”

Boone lowers the camera, an instant sign that something is wrong. Though the feed is still live, the shot now only shows the steering wheel and out the windshield of the truck. Occasionally, Tyler’s hands pop into frame as he frantically tries to get the switch to work. Even from your place in the back seat, Boone and Tyler’s voices can barely be heard over the roar of the wind but their tones are panicked and tense. Nothing they are doing gets the augers to work and by this point they are too close to the storm to drive out of it. You squeeze your eyes closed, cover your ears with your hands, and curl up in your seat—you can’t watch what happens next. Not again. 

Just as the wall of wind passes over the grille of the truck and the front tires raise slightly off the ground, Tyler grabs the camera from Boone’s lap and turns it towards his face. His usually bronzed skin is pale in the growing darkness and there is a fear in his eyes that has never been there before while chasing a storm. Yelling loudly to be heard over the roar of the wind, he screams, “Baby, if you’re watching this, I love you with everything in me, and I’m so sorr—”

He is interrupted as the truck tilts backward 90 degrees and the camera slips from his hands, flying past you and smashing into the back window, cracking them both. The last thing the camera streams is the sound of Tyler and Boone’s screams.

In the blink of an eye, you are once again standing in the field far from the truck. It is now lying upside-down and, for a brief moment, you see Tyler struggling to drag himself out of the driver’s side window, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He raises his head, blood streaming down one side of his face, and, somehow, his eyes find yours across the distance.

Then the truck explodes and Tyler disappears into a ball of fire and smoke.

“NO!” you wail, sound finally bursting from your mouth only to be lost in the blast of the explosion. Tears stream down your face as you collapse to your hands and knees, your forehead pressing into the wet dirt. The heat from the fire washes over you and you struggle to breathe as your sobs rattle in your chest and the smoke fills your lungs but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Lifting your head, you blink through your tears and the smoke. When they clear, you see the twisted metal frame of the truck and the skeletal, charred remains of the man that you loved.

You let out a blood-curdling shriek—

“Hey, hey, baby…..” Hands grab at you, trying to hold you down as you thrash wildly. Another anguished scream rips from your lips even as you hear a voice pleading with you, “Wake up…please. Baby, it’s okay. I’m alright—we’re both alright. I promise. I’m here. Just please wake up for me.”

The voice finally breaks through the storm of emotions raging through your mind, and as you recognize it, your eyes shoot open to see a face you thought you’d never see again looming over you. “T-Tyler…” you manage to breathe, your lip quivering in disbelief as you reach up, fingers brushing against his mouth. 

He nods, pursing his lips to kiss your fingertips, some of the desperation and fear on his face melting into relief as he runs his hand over the top of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. You just had the dream again.”

“W-what?” 

As your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, you see that you are lying on your bed in the apartment you shared with Tyler back in Arkansas. You aren’t in Oklahoma. There is no tornado. Tyler is alive and well. 

It had all been a dream……but the problem was, that’s only partially true. 

Last month, the auger system on Tyler’s truck had failed and Tyler and Boone were caught in the storm as the truck flipped over. However, the truck, thankfully, hadn’t exploded like in your dream. Tyler had fractured his arm and got a shallow gash on his head while Boone had broken his nose, but otherwise, the two had walked away from the incident relatively unharmed. 

However, the same couldn’t be said for you. While you hadn’t been with them in person, you had been watching the Storm Wrangler’s live feed as everything happened and that experience alone had been enough to cause these nearly nightly terrors. That moment when the camera had broken and the last thing you heard was Tyler screaming in fear and pain had been the most horrible moment of your life, one which dragged out for several hours until Tyler could reach you and confirm he was alright. And now you were being forced to relive it night after night after night. 

Alternating waves of relief, exhaustion, and despair begin to wash over you. Though you had been momentarily comforted seeing Tyler’s face, the reminder that you are caught in this seemingly neverending torture loop causes tears to once again begin streaming down your face.

After weeks of going through the same cycle of you waking up terrified only to realize what was happening, Tyler is used to this reaction. He murmurs, “Come here, baby,” before scooping you into his arms and holding you tightly against him.

You rest your head against his bare chest, but the steady beat of his heart that had once brought you such comfort and calm now only serves as a reminder that you had watched him die over and over again. It hadn’t been real, yet you felt that loss at the moment, and that pain still hung over you like a shroud even as you lay wrapped in his arms. 

“Ty, I can’t do this anymore,” you whimper, your fingers digging into his arm which only brings you back to the moment in your dream you begged him to turn the truck around. “I can't sleep and those pills the doctor gave me aren't helping. Every time I close my eyes I see you—” You break down into a sob, burying your face deeper into his chest as that horrific last image of Tyler from your dream flashes in your mind.

You can feel him taking a few, deep, shuddering breaths and it breaks your heart as you realize he’s trying to keep himself from breaking down from seeing you like this. He was the one who actually went through the near-death experience, and yet here he was comforting you every night. It wasn’t fair–to either of you–and you wonder how much more he will take before he throws in the towel, leaving you to face this on your own. Honestly, part of you is surprised he hasn’t left yet.

But he’s here tonight. And as he presses his lips to the top of your head, he whispers, “God, baby, I'm so sorry.”

Shaking your head against his chest, you cry, “It's not your fault.”

“The hell it isn't.”

You shake your head again. “You've told me not to watch your live stuff just in case something like this happened. It was my fault–”

“No,” Tyler stops you, grasping your damp cheeks between his calloused palms and tilting your head to face his. Oddly, the rough skin of his hands feels soothing, familiar, and you start to feel more grounded in the reality of the moment. For the first time tonight, you feel the dream starting to lose its hold on you. 

Rubbing his thumb softly across your cheekbone, he looks you straight in the eyes and firmly says, “No…None of this is your fault. I knew there had been problems with the augers but instead of waiting to test them, I went out anyway. What happened out there and how it's tormenting you is my fault and no one else’s. Do you understand me? You did nothing wrong.” You start to look away but he squeezes your face tighter, causing you to look back at him. “Tell me you know that.”

“I guess,” you whisper. Then, stronger, you say, “But Ty, it doesn’t matter. Whoever’s fault it was, or even if it was nobody’s fault, it doesn’t change the fact this keeps happening. And I don’t know how to live the rest of my life like this.”

“It won’t be the rest of your life. You’ll get past this, I promise,” he says, releasing your cheeks to run his hands across your shoulders and down your arms until he is holding your hands in his. Squeezing them tightly, he adds, “Eventually, every storm passes. We just have to hold on tight and don't give up until that happens.”

Your voice breaks as you ask, “...‘We’?”

“Yeah, of course ‘we’.” His eyes darken under a furrowed brow. “Wait…do you really think I’d let you go through this on your own?”

You shrug one shoulder. “It’s a lot. And it’s not your storm to weather.” 

“Baby, your storm is my storm. And I’m going to hold you so tightly during it and never let you go, whatever it takes. Then once it passes—because it will given time—I’m still going to be right there next to you for whatever comes next.” He leans forward until his forehead is leaning against yours. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you remain like that, hand-in-hand with heads pressed together. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. But all you know is that Tyler is with you and, at least for tonight, that’s enough.

Eventually, in the darkness together, you whisper, “Let's go to sleep.”

Tagging a few people who might be interested: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole, @ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @sunlightmurdock

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 2

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 2 summary: Escape is futile

Part Pilot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And the winner is Python!"

I turned my head from the bloody sight. I had brutally murdered an innocent fighter like myself. But I had to do it. It was my only chance out of here and they were far too mentally gone to even have a chance at a normal life.

I pushed myself up on one foot and limped to the gate. The crowd above roared my fighter name and bets were being collected. My master picked me up and looked down at my injured foot. Usually a head collar was strapped on to keep me from using magic against him, but he had recently gotten more comfortable without it.

I flicked my wrist behind his back. The sweat from my forehead jumped off and sliced through his throat. He dropped me and fell, clutching his throat. I scrambled to my feet and bolted around the cages containing my brothers and sisters in fighting. I ran past the unknowing guard at the gate and into the crowd.

I could taste the sweet taste of freedom beyond those fences. All I had to do was hide in the woods until dawn. It was easy. The crowd didn't know what was happening and people often tried to run out on a poor bet. No one would interfere.

Except one.

Rope wrapped around my throat and snapped my head backwards. The force slammed my back into the cold ground. I coughed violently as I pulled the rope loose. Spit fell out of my lips as I looked up. Standing on the other end of the rope was Striker, a Full mage who liked to terrify others with his illusionist demonic appearance.

He pulled on the rope and it tightened again. I slipped my hand under it and tried to dig my chin between my neck and it. He pulled even tighter, rougher, and pulled me forward, forcing me to fall on my stomach. I sent wind and dirt but he casted a shield of around himself.

I looked to the side and pretended to lift something. His glance was all I needed. I leaned forward and pulled the rope over my head. I barely made two steps before something caught my foot. I tried to pull that one off but the ropes kept coming. My neck, my shoulder, my wrist, and my knee. I flailed and threw every magic I could at his ropes. Yet it did nothing. A Slight hand was no match for a Full mage.

Henchmen appeared and pulled the ropes in different directions. It was mere seconds to have me completely immobile on the cold ground. Striker stepped inches from my face before kneeling down and grabbing my chin. He lifted the rope around my neck at the same time, painfully contorting my neck in what felt like a 90 degree angle.

"Looks like you're mine now, sweetheart," he purred, "'til the day you die." He let go of my head and my face slammed down into the pavement.

I jerked my head up from the pillow with a yelp. I found myself in an old, dusty room with sunlight streaming in from the window. I sat up and examined every inch of the room. How the hell did I get here?

I tried to think past the nightmare but was met with a mental block. Who's house was this? Why am I here? When did I change into a white gown? Who's bed is this?

I put my feet on the cold carpet and padded over to the window. I looked out at a wide open sea and a sheer cliff-face. That's when it connected. I had evaded the worse fighter master for five years and landed right in the claws of the Radio Demon.

A light knock came at the door. I dove into the corner and put my hand up, ready to cast at a moment's notice. But the person who entered wasn't the Radio Demon, but a different one. He resembled a combination of a cat and bird, his entire body covered in gray and white fur and his wings a gorgeous bright red. He had a black top hat sitting between his ears.

"You're awake," he said, "Good. Your clothes are in the wardrobe. Alastor wants to speak with you before he leaves so hurry up." He shut the door.

My neck hairs bristled at being told what to do. I didn't waste five years of freedom to be told what to do again solely because my soul happened to be bound to the worse Full mage of the century.

Yet there was nothing I could do.

I opened the wardrobe to find old dresses that looked like they were from the 1930s. Maybe the 40s or 50s? They were old, that much was obvious. Not my style, either.

Now he's dressing me.

I swallowed hard and picked a long skirt and button down. I locked myself in the bathroom, grateful that it had a lock, and quickly dressed. The sink had a bowl of water in it which told me this old house didn't have working pipes.

I gently splashed my eyes with the ice cold water to wake myself up. I found an old brush in one of the drawers and brushed out my messy hair. It had taken nearly three years to really understand how to take care of this hair. I had grown it out after escaping the rings to make myself more unnoticeable.

I let out a sigh. I closed my eyes and took a moment to ready myself for the next encounter with the mage. He couldn't kill me. He would kill himself in the process. If he tried to keep my in a cage like the others a little self harm should do the trick. I had options. I could handle this. I had handled worse. Right?

Outside the room wasn't much better off. The floorboards caved under my weight and spewed dust up in my face. I sneezed a few times on my way down, careful not to touch anything in case it disintegrated upon contact.

The staircase to the foyer was tight and narrow. I could clearly see the deep purple and dark brown accents of the house now. It didn't exactly look pretty. Though I couldn't imagine much thought was put into any part of this old house.

I turned at the last step to find my soulmate standing by the cold fire. He seemed to be looking at something before he spun to face me. His eyes looked me from head to toe and back again. My fingers tightened into a fist subconsciously.

"Mm, it'll do." I bristled at the comment but he crossed the living room in seconds to stand in front of me. I took a step back. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Come sit, I have much to tell you before I leave." He stepped to the side and gestured to the room. His other hand was behind his back holding his cane; the cane that made me feel like I was always being watched with the creepy little eye on it.

I looked up at his red eyes before forcing myself to walk into the room and sit on one of the hideous old chairs. He sat on the other one on the opposite side of the fireplace and crossed his legs elegantly. I crossed my ankles and put my hands in my lap. I hated dresses but I had watched enough women and explored the internet enough to know how to sit 'properly'. He seemed like the type to correct me on manners.

"I'll make this simple since I have places to be," he started, "My rules are very simple. Rule number one, you're not to leave the premises. You have until the tree-line before you're considered off this property. Rule number two, you can go anywhere in the house except for my room and office. They're beside each other on the second floor. Don't worry, they're locked so you can't mistake them for another room." His eyes narrowed a tad. "Rule number three, don't bother me. You can do anything you like, request nearly anything from Husker, but do not disturb me."

"May I ask a question?" I ventured. My head was tilted down a little and my eyes glared up at him.

"Yes you may." He laid his cane on his lap.

"If you want nothing to do with me, why the hell are you keeping me here?"

"Silly girl," he chuckled, "I told you last night. I need not worry about my soulmate dying in wasteful ring fights. If you die, I die. Not to mention, if people discovered we were connected you would undoubtedly find yourself against very powerful mages that could kill you in half a second." I gritted my teeth, unsure of how to respond. "And as I said last night, you should be grateful that I'm providing you with a safe haven."

"A safe haven that's about to collapse?" I remarked, looking around at the dusty boards and picking at the old ratted chair.

"Well," he laughed, "if you're bored you could always fix up the place."

"Can't you do that with your oh-so-powerful magic?"

"I have more important things to use my magic on. Besides, your Slight magic should be enough to fix up the things you need." I was about to argue when he abruptly stood up. "Well, I must be going now. I do hope I won't have to remind you of my rules. They are rather simple and easy to follow. Good day." He didn't bother to use the door, disappearing into the shadows and melting into the floor.

I stared at where he had disappeared for a long moment. My eyes then trailed around the room, examining its every inch. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Boards creaked and I looked over to see Husker appearing from the hallway. "I'm sorry to hear that you have a shitty soulmate," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"I never believed in soulmates, really." I stood up to walk over to him. We looked roughly the same height until I got closer and discovered to be a few inches taller. "Is there a reason why you're...here? With him?"

"I'm under Alastor's service for an extended period of time," he answered, turning back down the hallway. I followed him through the narrow entryway and came to an old kitchen. "He told me I'm to fulfill most of your requests."

"Why do you listen to him?"

"For my own reasons," he growled, "I'm not about to let you run off, if that's what you're trying to get at. He can't kill you but he can kill me, and he will if I let you run off."

"Right." I quietly left the room to explore the rest of the house. Next to the kitchen was the dinning room. It was full of random old furniture that looked like someone had dumped the insides of a victorian home here. It circled back to the staircase and sitting room. On the other side of the sitting room was a library study. The books looked like they were nests for spiders, moths, and bookworms.

Upstairs had another sitting room but was mostly filled with old bedrooms and bathrooms. I quickly discovered which rooms belonged to Alastor. Directly across from 'my' bedroom were two locked doors side by side. So long as he came and went at early or late hours of the day, I could avoid him easy.

Escaping shouldn't be hard, though. A pang of guilt went through me as I thought of Husker having to deal with the repercussions. He was obviously a Full mage if he could conjure up a demonic illusion like that. Though what for while he was here, I'm not sure. Perhaps a scare tactic. I shook the thought from my head. I had killed people with my bare hands on the concept of "Me or them". This would be no different.

"Say," I found Husker drinking something in the kitchen, "could we fix the pipes so we can have running water?"

Husker shrugged. "Sure. You want to help?" The side glance his black eyes made me want to incline.

"Sure."

Outside had a cool, ocean breeze crossing the field. I instantly found the tree line Alastor spoke of. The first challenge of escaping would be crossing the field. There was nothing to hide behind or use for a shield. I had to buy time to cross the field and take shelter in the dense trees.

Husker went to the side of the house where an old well stood a few paces from it. He put his hands on the ground and seemed to search through the earth. A moment later he snapped his black eyes open and looked up at me.

"Clean out the well and dig further down until you reach water." He said as he pointed to the stoned circle. I stood on the side that put it between me and Husker. I had heard too many tales of people losing their life to a deep well.

Husker fixed the pipes underground and through the house while I fixed the source. I knew my next request to him was to allow me more clothes that fit my style. And more pants. I kept quiet until the brown water turned into pristine, clear running water from all the faucets.

I dried my hands on my dress in the kitchen and asked, "How did you know I had magic?"

"Alastor told me."

"Right."

"I've also seen you in the fight rings before."

"You what?" I bristled.

"Relax," he grabbed the same bottle from the counter, "I wasn't a master or anything. I was running the bets and gambling." That didn't make me feel any better. How could he just let them keep those fights going? His appearance gave me my answer.

So I changed the subject. "How would you suggest I ask you for different clothes? These aren't exactly right for me." I looked down at the elongated skirt.

He let out a sigh and pulled out a phone. My heart quickened. "Find what you're looking for and screenshot what you want. Then tell me your size."

"You know, that's not exactly how sizes for women work," I tried. "One size in one store could be very different than another."

"Then pick one store and tell me what sizes," he replied. My heart dropped and I took the phone from him.

****

I gave myself a week before my first escape attempt. I had to know Alastor's schedule and Husker's routine. I also need to ensure they weren't bracing for my first attempt. A week should be long enough, surely.

Alastor left in the mornings before or right at dawn and returned at some point well after dusk. Husker preferred to be in the living room or on the outside porch drinking alcohol. I guessed that he had some kind of magic that kept the effects of alcohol to a minimum so he could still keep an eye on me. I made it a habit to join him on the porch most of the time, reading the one book I could think of off the top of my head for him to get.

Alastor had made two more rules since my arrival. Well, one official rule and one implicit. The explicit one was no unsupervised internet access. No phone, no computer, nothing. I had no connection to the outside world.

The implicit rule was my clothing style. Any 'modern' clothing that was even close to being considered immodest disappeared from my wardrobe the next day. This meant he was keeping a close eye on me despite his rules to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible. I had to be careful. I didn't know what type of magic he was using and if he could see me at any point.

But I was ready.

It was a blue evening, the setting sun hidden behind a raincloud. The rain hadn't quite reached us yet but the strong gusts were moving the clouds closer and closer. As much as I didn't want to escape on a rainy night, it was the best chance I had. Muddy conditions and rain made it difficult to see and operate in. For most people. Most likely for Full mages who were used to having everything handed to them on a plate thanks to their power.

Husker had just finished another one of his whiskey bottles and went inside for another. I whispered an apology as the door closed and I stood up from my chair. I used my magic to push against the wood from underneath so they didn't creak. I jumped the stairs and as soon as my feet hit the grass I ran.

I pushed wind against my back to help carry me across the field. My heart pounded in my ears as I reached the tree line and disappeared behind the closest large tree. I sank to the ground and peaked around the tree. I didn't see Husker yet.

I turned and ran further into the forest. The wind from the storm made it easy to maneuver through the dense forest. I had no idea where the closest town or city was but I needed to put as much distance between me and the house as possible.

There was no notion of time as I kept running. My legs burned and chest hurt but I didn't dare stop until I could barely stand. I pushed through the pain and veered off to the side, hoping they would search in the other direction. The rain had started and trees bent against the strong winds, pushing back as best they could. I took this as my cue to find a hiding spot until the storm cleared up.

I picked one of the trees and started pulling up the dirt and roots. I would dig myself a little burrow and wait out the storm. The wind pulled aggressively on my clothes and hair. It felt incredibly strong for a storm and it made my blood run cold. I frantically looked around in search of the bright red of Alastor's coat or Husker's wings. This wasn't natural wind. This was from magic. They were searching for me.

The trees practically uprooted themselves as the wind pushed against them, opening the forest floor to the sky for a moment. I briefly saw Husker's red wings in the sky before the trees cut my line of sight. I dove to the side before the trees opened again. I felt like a field mouse running from a coyote in the field grass.

Husker dropped through the canopy and locked eyes with me. He curled his claws inward and the tree branches reached for me. I pushed against them with wind and snaked through their reaches. I stayed as close to the ground as I possibly could. I needed someplace to defend, somewhere that he couldn't reach me. The forest was proving to be a horrible idea.

Wind and fire were my best friends as I evaded and burned the branches that grabbed at me. Husker went back to the skies and attempted to create a wall with the trees. A branch caught my foot and dragged me towards its trunk. I opened the earth near it and pulled its roots up. I used the storm and pushed the tree all the way down. I jumped into the ditch and pulled the roots back over me, partially covering me from the sky. Husker flapped overhead, arms crossed.

I dug into the earth and filled it up behind me. The further down I went the farther I was from the reach of the trees. Several times he tried to catch me with the roots but he couldn't see me anymore. I had broken his line of sight. That's how you defeat a Full mage, I realized. If the mage couldn't see you, then they didn't know what they were doing.

I picked a random direction and started tunneling again. I didn't get far, though, as I realized my great fault. I had filled most of the earth behind me and it cut off my airway. It was freezing this far down and I was lacking oxygen. I was suffocating. I was already sweating and exhausted but not I was truly fighting for my life.

Praying that they were digging after me in the original spot, I start tunneling back up. Going up was far easier than going down but I was already exhausted, physically, mentally, and magically. I had to take several stops, struggling to breathe.

After what felt like an hour, I reached tree roots. I grabbed hold of one and used the last of my magic strength to pull myself through the dirt. I clambered through the dirt and sucked in the fresh air. I frantically looked around, half expecting Husker to jump on me from behind. But he was nowhere in sight. The light rain had turned into a downpour but the tree I was under gave me enough shelter from it.

I looked around for several moment before collapsing against the trunk. I took deep breaths of the sweet fresh air and let the rain drops patter on my face. Had I done it? Were they digging after me or looking elsewhere for my tunnel exit? It didn't matter. I just needed a few minutes to recover.

"Well done."

My breathing caught in my throat. I looked up to see Alastor leaning against the tree staring down at me. His smile was still plastered on his face and the sarcasm was heavy. I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him.

"I must say I'm impressed that you managed to evade Husker but I'm sorely disappointed that you can't follow simple instructions." He was leaning forward enough this he was at my eye level and creeping towards me.

“I'm disappointed you thought I would just stay put like a pet," I returned with heavy breathing. I was so tired. I didn't know if I had the energy to run from him.

He chuckled at my retort. "I knew you would attempt to run. You watched my schedule. You knew I wouldn't be back until later. I know exactly how your mind works."

“Do you, now?" Using my peripherals, I willed the roots from the nearest tree to uproot and wrap around his legs, making sure not to touch him yet. "Then you'll know that a cornered animal fights back until they die." I snapped the roots tightly around him. He looked down and I ran. I was so tired but desperation kept my blood boiling in all my fights.

I used the strong wind and rode it into the sky. I threw myself as high as I could and looked around. It was nothing but trees. No town, no city, no house, absolutely no sign of humanity. I was in the middle of nowhere.

I dropped into the trees and hide among the branches, eyes desperately scanning the ground. I leaned back to sit on my heels but the strength in my arm had disappeared. I lost my grip on the branch and fell backwards, hitting branches on my way down.

I landed hard on my back and felt a crack run through my spine. I sucked in a gasp of air and stared up at the gray sky. I gripped at the wet grass and tried to pull my strength back in. Alastor appeared above me a moment later, smiling down at my paralyzed body. He knelt beside my head so his ugly yellow smile came closer to my face.

"This suites you," he said, "this desperation. You're trying so hard to escape no matter what it does or if it kills you." He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Unfortunately for you, it matters to me because we share the same fate."

"Fuck you."

His smile lessened slightly. "I'll add another rule for you to follow." He grabbed my throat and hoisted me to my feet. His claws dug painfully into my skin until I could feel my blood soaking my shirt. He pushed me against a tree and leaned in close to my face. I pulled on his wrist and tried not to cough in his face. "Rule number five. Never speak to me in such a way again." He paused. "Words like that are unbefitting for a woman."

"You can..." I struggled to speak clearly, "you can...keep me here but...but I'm...but I will not play...play by your rules." My heart was racing as his grip tightened even more so. He dies if you die. He dies if you die. I repeated in my head.

He let go of me and I fell face first into the ground. I gasped and coughed up spit as I rubbed my throat. "Give it time." I saw his feet walk around to stand in front of me. "I can be very persuasive."

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Your Storm is My Storm

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Is it possible to have trauma from an event you didn't actually experience? You never thought so, but now you are tormented nightly after witnessing Tyler's near death. Luckily, he's there to comfort you and remind you that he made it back to you, and that he's not going anywhere. Word Count: 1976 TW: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death (but not really), Dealing with PTSD, Storm-Related Peril

You are standing in the middle of a vast grass field wearing a white cotton dress that billows wildly in the increasing wind. Across the field heading in your direction, you see an oh-so-familiar red Dodge Ram bucking and crashing over the uneven dirt. Even though you are several hundred feet away and the wind whips around with a deafening roar, you hear Tyler whooping loudly, the joyful sound as clear as day in your ears. 

Then, suddenly, you are in the backseat of the truck, watching as Boone leans back to get a better angle of Tyler with his camera. Shifting his focus away from the plain in front of him for a minute, Tyler looks at Boone and gives another rowdy shout before clicking a button on the dashboard. The truck bolts forward at a break-neck speed, heading directly for the dark swirling funnel forming in front of them. 

You try to warn them, to call out and tell them to turn around before it’s too late, but even though you can feel the screams tearing at your throat, not a sound passes from your lips. You lean forward and pull at Tyler’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve so deeply that you are sure you are tearing into his skin, silently pleading, begging him to stop. And yet he doesn’t react. 

Tears are streaming down your face as the truck nears the tornado and skids to a stop. The edge of the storm is licking at the front bumper. Tyler grins at Boone, giving a quick wink to the camera, and says, “Here we go!”

He reaches forward and flips a switch on the center console—and nothing happens. 

For a moment, that cocky grin stays on Tyler’s face but then the realization of what didn’t happen snaps his attention back to the switch. He jiggles it a few times but still nothing. The storm is even closer now, the entire vehicle shaking as the intensity of the winds grows.

Tyler glances at his co-pilot. “Boone…the augers aren’t going down.”

Boone lowers the camera, an instant sign that something is wrong. Though the feed is still live, the shot now only shows the steering wheel and out the windshield of the truck. Occasionally, Tyler’s hands pop into frame as he frantically tries to get the switch to work. Even from your place in the back seat, Boone and Tyler’s voices can barely be heard over the roar of the wind but their tones are panicked and tense. Nothing they are doing gets the augers to work and by this point they are too close to the storm to drive out of it. You squeeze your eyes closed, cover your ears with your hands, and curl up in your seat—you can’t watch what happens next. Not again. 

Just as the wall of wind passes over the grille of the truck and the front tires raise slightly off the ground, Tyler grabs the camera from Boone’s lap and turns it towards his face. His usually bronzed skin is pale in the growing darkness and there is a fear in his eyes that has never been there before while chasing a storm. Yelling loudly to be heard over the roar of the wind, he screams, “Baby, if you’re watching this, I love you with everything in me, and I’m so sorr—”

He is interrupted as the truck tilts backward 90 degrees and the camera slips from his hands, flying past you and smashing into the back window, cracking them both. The last thing the camera streams is the sound of Tyler and Boone’s screams.

In the blink of an eye, you are once again standing in the field far from the truck. It is now lying upside-down and, for a brief moment, you see Tyler struggling to drag himself out of the driver’s side window, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He raises his head, blood streaming down one side of his face, and, somehow, his eyes find yours across the distance.

Then the truck explodes and Tyler disappears into a ball of fire and smoke.

“NO!” you wail, sound finally bursting from your mouth only to be lost in the blast of the explosion. Tears stream down your face as you collapse to your hands and knees, your forehead pressing into the wet dirt. The heat from the fire washes over you and you struggle to breathe as your sobs rattle in your chest and the smoke fills your lungs but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Lifting your head, you blink through your tears and the smoke. When they clear, you see the twisted metal frame of the truck and the skeletal, charred remains of the man that you loved.

You let out a blood-curdling shriek—

“Hey, hey, baby…..” Hands grab at you, trying to hold you down as you thrash wildly. Another anguished scream rips from your lips even as you hear a voice pleading with you, “Wake up…please. Baby, it’s okay. I’m alright—we’re both alright. I promise. I’m here. Just please wake up for me.”

The voice finally breaks through the storm of emotions raging through your mind, and as you recognize it, your eyes shoot open to see a face you thought you’d never see again looming over you. “T-Tyler…” you manage to breathe, your lip quivering in disbelief as you reach up, fingers brushing against his mouth. 

He nods, pursing his lips to kiss your fingertips, some of the desperation and fear on his face melting into relief as he runs his hand over the top of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. You just had the dream again.”

“W-what?” 

As your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, you see that you are lying on your bed in the apartment you shared with Tyler back in Arkansas. You aren’t in Oklahoma. There is no tornado. Tyler is alive and well. 

It had all been a dream……but the problem was, that’s only partially true. 

Last month, the auger system on Tyler’s truck had failed and Tyler and Boone were caught in the storm as the truck flipped over. However, the truck, thankfully, hadn’t exploded like in your dream. Tyler had fractured his arm and got a shallow gash on his head while Boone had broken his nose, but otherwise, the two had walked away from the incident relatively unharmed. 

However, the same couldn’t be said for you. While you hadn’t been with them in person, you had been watching the Storm Wrangler’s live feed as everything happened and that experience alone had been enough to cause these nearly nightly terrors. That moment when the camera had broken and the last thing you heard was Tyler screaming in fear and pain had been the most horrible moment of your life, one which dragged out for several hours until Tyler could reach you and confirm he was alright. And now you were being forced to relive it night after night after night. 

Alternating waves of relief, exhaustion, and despair begin to wash over you. Though you had been momentarily comforted seeing Tyler’s face, the reminder that you are caught in this seemingly neverending torture loop causes tears to once again begin streaming down your face.

After weeks of going through the same cycle of you waking up terrified only to realize what was happening, Tyler is used to this reaction. He murmurs, “Come here, baby,” before scooping you into his arms and holding you tightly against him.

You rest your head against his bare chest, but the steady beat of his heart that had once brought you such comfort and calm now only serves as a reminder that you had watched him die over and over again. It hadn’t been real, yet you felt that loss at the moment, and that pain still hung over you like a shroud even as you lay wrapped in his arms. 

“Ty, I can’t do this anymore,” you whimper, your fingers digging into his arm which only brings you back to the moment in your dream you begged him to turn the truck around. “I can't sleep and those pills the doctor gave me aren't helping. Every time I close my eyes I see you—” You break down into a sob, burying your face deeper into his chest as that horrific last image of Tyler from your dream flashes in your mind.

You can feel him taking a few, deep, shuddering breaths and it breaks your heart as you realize he’s trying to keep himself from breaking down from seeing you like this. He was the one who actually went through the near-death experience, and yet here he was comforting you every night. It wasn’t fair–to either of you–and you wonder how much more he will take before he throws in the towel, leaving you to face this on your own. Honestly, part of you is surprised he hasn’t left yet.

But he’s here tonight. And as he presses his lips to the top of your head, he whispers, “God, baby, I'm so sorry.”

Shaking your head against his chest, you cry, “It's not your fault.”

“The hell it isn't.”

You shake your head again. “You've told me not to watch your live stuff just in case something like this happened. It was my fault–”

“No,” Tyler stops you, grasping your damp cheeks between his calloused palms and tilting your head to face his. Oddly, the rough skin of his hands feels soothing, familiar, and you start to feel more grounded in the reality of the moment. For the first time tonight, you feel the dream starting to lose its hold on you. 

Rubbing his thumb softly across your cheekbone, he looks you straight in the eyes and firmly says, “No…None of this is your fault. I knew there had been problems with the augers but instead of waiting to test them, I went out anyway. What happened out there and how it's tormenting you is my fault and no one else’s. Do you understand me? You did nothing wrong.” You start to look away but he squeezes your face tighter, causing you to look back at him. “Tell me you know that.”

“I guess,” you whisper. Then, stronger, you say, “But Ty, it doesn’t matter. Whoever’s fault it was, or even if it was nobody’s fault, it doesn’t change the fact this keeps happening. And I don’t know how to live the rest of my life like this.”

“It won’t be the rest of your life. You’ll get past this, I promise,” he says, releasing your cheeks to run his hands across your shoulders and down your arms until he is holding your hands in his. Squeezing them tightly, he adds, “Eventually, every storm passes. We just have to hold on tight and don't give up until that happens.”

Your voice breaks as you ask, “...‘We’?”

“Yeah, of course ‘we’.” His eyes darken under a furrowed brow. “Wait…do you really think I’d let you go through this on your own?”

You shrug one shoulder. “It’s a lot. And it’s not your storm to weather.” 

“Baby, your storm is my storm. And I’m going to hold you so tightly during it and never let you go, whatever it takes. Then once it passes—because it will given time—I’m still going to be right there next to you for whatever comes next.” He leans forward until his forehead is leaning against yours. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you remain like that, hand-in-hand with heads pressed together. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. But all you know is that Tyler is with you and, at least for tonight, that’s enough.

Eventually, in the darkness together, you whisper, “Let's go to sleep.”

[drawnthejayys]

Meet my BLU Team OCs !!

Info/Bios under cut!

Dr. Warin Kölher

• Born in Mannheim, Germany

• Team Leader, some refer to him as "Mother Hen" because of his protective motherly attitude

• Lost his medical degree early because he kept experiencing near death situations around his workplace, they thought it was becoming too dangerous even though nobody else was affected 💀

• Survived hell and back more than once (literally) before becoming a mercenary

• Happy face pin on his hat expresses his emotions somehow?¿

• Not a demon or anything, trust me!!!!!

• Likes crows, wants one as a pet

• Says he has a rare skin condition (is lying)

Jenny Thomas

• Sees Dr. Kölher as a parental figure

• "IF AUTISM DIDN'T EXIST, GOD WOULD NOT HAVE CREATED ME!" /ref /j

• Actually born in Canada, does not know

• Sent to Michigan (in a box) as a baby and grew up there

• Collector of many things (rocks, sticks, nuts n bolts)

• Can be very trigger happy especially on the battlefield

• Dr. Kölher gives her star stickers when he's good, he sticks them in his helmet (is tryin to collect 50 of them 🇺🇲)

• Owns chewelry because she has a biting problem but easily breaks through all of them in less than a week

Mason

• nickname: mason jar

• If Mundy listened to midwest emo (/hj)

• Look, we don't know how they escaped New Zealand when its currently at the bottom of the ocean but we don't ask

• Laid-back but lazy at times, takes a lot of naps

• Smokes more weed than Spy smoking cigarettes /hj

• Dumpster diver

• Their Jarate skills kinda go crazy

• Games with Junior, they love first-person shooters

Spy (alias: Rune)

• Get half filipino'd loser🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭🇵🇭

• Backup strategist for when things go to shit but also the last resort for a lot of things unfortunately

• Anxiety ridden, visits the doc often

• Good at stabbing, not much with shooting

• Acknowledges Scout as his son but is a very awkward dad. He's trying at least

• A hopeless romantic and has been looking for a partner since the divorce(tm)

• Smokes but is trying to quit, often been seen with a toothpick instead of a cigarette

• Autistic just like me fr, stims with his butterfly knife

Dallas

• Tough cowboy, doesn't play around

• "Watch your piehole son or imma SLAP YOU SILLY."

• Probably the sanest in the team

• Grumpy-pants who needs a break

• Very "tough love" kind of father figure

• "MY TEAMMATES ARE ALL MORONS!!!!" /ref /j

• Homophobic homosexual (/j)

• Despite his name, he might not even be Texan

• Tolerates Dr. Kölher the most

Dymitry (Mitya)

• Here to do his job, nothing more

• Intimidating just like the OG Heavy

• Fond of animals and small creatures

• Actually quite calm, its hard to piss him off

• He has a soft spot for Jenny and Meeka and buys them snacks on the weekends

• Jenny calls him Mitts!

Junior

• Transmasc bastard

• He'll beat your ass (for fun!)

• Good friends with Sniper, they listen to music and play video games together!

• Knows Spy is his dad and is very nonchalant about it, much to Spy's dismay ("I am your fathe-" "Whatever, don't care, didn't ask")

• Has braces paid for by Spy but has to leave base monthly to go to an actual dentist because Dr. Kölher didn't wanna keep seeing him cry whenever he had to get his braces tightened

•Still has buck teeth :3

Meeka

• Your honour, they're just a little guy

• Hangs around Mitya to keep him company, theyre the best of friends!

• Goes on crazy killing sprees with Jenny during matches

• Ongoing beef/goof-off with the RED Team's Pyro

• Pinkie Pie energy!!

• Dallas is their (adoptive) dad!

Angus

• Superstitious about a lot of things but keeps it to himself

• For some reason is always very warm which is why he's shirtless 90% of the time

• Has some amazing tits ngl

• Will wear a dress to the function and be the hottest one there

• His fav food is burber 🍔

• Loves hard rum and scotch (its important to me that all my demo ocs have a fav alcoholic beverage)

------------------------

That's all of them! I hope you like them :3

[bwwhitney]

A Tumblr friend asked how I fill the creative void when I don't feel like taking photos. As far as I can tell it happens to all of us, and it is good to step away for a time and regroup so to speak.

I find that I have to stay busy doing something. I'm a member of our local historical society, so among other things I've helped them update their online presence. Was that creative? I suppose web page design is creative.

I volunteer at our local art center, helping build sets for their community theater. I've posted photos of our latest endeavor https://www.tumblr.com/bwwhitney/753933654399549440/details-about-the-play-winter-is-on-the-way-and?source=share In this case I just bolted cardboard tubes together and put them on wheels. Someone else provided the magic to transform them into trees.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/e5RhEUcrTL9t2GeT6 is a metal sculpture I created as a test piece for the play, but the director decided it would not really be visible on stage. I was happy, as I could never have made 12 of them, let alone made them mobile. For now It is living in our meadow.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theuglyproject documents another way I stayed busy over last winter and spring.

This is my latest project. 23 inches long, 13 inches high, part metal, part 3D printed plastic. It is a sketch so to speak for a larger lawn sculpture I may get around to making once the weather cools off.

And while this is a well and good, I spent an hour in the 90 degree heat this afternoon taking photos of a friend's daylily garden, so please stay tuned for more flower portraits.

[hellenhighwater]

Have you ever successfully harness/leash trained a cat? And if so, how?

This is gonna get a little long.

Malice is, to some degree, harness trained, but I don't really take her on walks or anything like that? Usually if she's on a harness and leash it's because she's going somewhere and probably 90% of the time I'm going to be carrying her. She's actually decent at following on the leash, she's just remarkably lazy.

Before you even touch a harness (and do make sure you're getting one that fits properly, you can find lots of articles on how to do that) you need to make sure you have really, really gotten a good "come here" command drilled into your cat's head. We'll touch on that again later.

I started harness training her when she was so little that her first 'harness" was actually the ankle section of a tube sock with holes cut into it, just to get her used to the feeling. You start by getting the cat used to just the existence of the harness, with rewards for interacting with it; and then move up to trying the harness on (without leash) in a safe indoor space for short periods, and then work up to longer times, rewarding for everything as you go. Then you start adding the leash on--still indoors, mind you!--and from there work on brief outdoor visits. Every step needs to last until the cat is more or less fully comfortable at that stage, and once you have the cat on a harness you need to work on habituating that cat to all the chaos of the outdoors in general. As you go through this process, keep working on that return command! You want your cat, on and off leash, in and out of harness, to know when you need them to come back to you.

The thing with harnesses is that there simply isn't one that's escape proof, and having a leash attached to the harness just gives the cat leverage. Cats, anatomically, are almost impossible to contain because of the extreme flexibility of their bodies. So if you have your cat on a harness and they get scared and try to bolt, and you aren't ready for it, odds are that they're going to be able to wrench out of the harness and run. As you train, you need to be making sure that you're really solid in the work you're doing with your cat, so you don't get those sudden shocks. Take your time; do the training slowly and correctly.

Even then, stay alert. I had Malice on my lap, on my own dang front porch, on a leash and harness just a few months ago, and a literal monster truck whipped around the corner of my (usually very quiet!) street. In a fraction of a second, Mal had gotten out of the harness and was trying to bolt, and clutching onto her long enough to open the door and get inside meant that she did serious damage to both my arms, my shoulder, and even managed to scratch my face badly enough that I was bleeding in two places. The dress I was wearing was so clawed up in the bodice that I'm still trying to figure out how to patch it. And that was a good outcome, because Malice didn't wind up loose in traffic and I healed with only a couple minor scars.

And this is why you need a very strong recall command if you want to start harness training a cat. If they do get loose somehow, you want to make sure they recognize when you're calling them back. It's not going to work if they're in a dead panic, but once they calm down (and possibly realize they have no idea where they are) you have a shot at getting them home.

I do think harnesses are a great option for indoor cats to get outside time, but I think it's important to be really careful about where you go and what you do once you have a cat on a leash. It's not like dogs, where a properly fitted collar and harness will take some real work to get out of--cats are fast, and they're contortionists; even a really good harness will only slow them down. If you're travelling and your cat gets off-harness in a national park, you are very likely to never see that cat again. So just...be careful! I'm not saying don't do it, just do it mindfully.

[married-to-a-redhead]

A relaxing range day for me! I kept it simple - it was 22 day. Well, .22LR and .223. From left to right, a 10” .22LR AR15 pistol with a polymer lower I built and my SilencerCo Sparrow on the end, my Ruger American bolt action .22LR rifle (which takes 10/22 magazines), my WWSD inspired .223/5.56 AR15 with a 14.5”barrel with an integral brake, my 16” .22LR AR15 on another polymer lower I made, my BCM 16” .223/5.56 AR15 with an Eotech XPS2 and my AAC 556SD silencer on the end, and last but not least my 12.5” AR15 .223/5.56 SBR with an Aimpoint H1 and my AAC M4-2000 on the end. Overall, a quiet range day thanks to the silencers - it’s very nice to not have to wear thick ear muffs when it’s 90 degrees outside.

[nerves-nebula]

Fuck it, we ball.

—

Leo groaned as he kicked off his blankets, his whole body felt gross and nasty as the summer heat made the farmhouse feel like a sauna. Donnie was still working on fixing the A/C, but he kept mumbling about not having pieces he needed to get it “optimal”.

Leo refused to complain about the heat to her brothers, though. She took the room with the worst air conditioning so they wouldn’t have to. It had a window that practically worked like a death ray when the sun was high in the sky, cooking her in her shell.

“Try to think of the positives.” She rubbed her face, “I’m probably getting a nice tan from this.”

She practically jumped out of her shell when a loud banging came to her door, Mikey and Raph’s voices behind the knocks, calling her name in their “we’re trying to be obnoxious on purpose” voices. He groaned and pulled himself from bed to throw the door open, glaring at the boys standing on the other side.

“What?” She snapped, trying to put on an air of being annoyed. In reality, she could already feel her brother’s excitement radiating off them and infecting her own mood.

“It’s too damn hot.” Raph said, “So we’re gonna have a picnic down by the lake and go swimming.”

Donnie nodded excitedly, “We haven’t had a good soak in real water in ages. It’s good for our health.”

“Donnie says baths don’t count as real soaks because of micro-blah blah blah.” Mikey mimed Donnie’s talking with his hand, sticking out his tongue, “I say: Cannonball contest. Biggest splash gets first pick at the picnic basket.”

“Bet.” Leo grinned, “I’m getting antsy anyways.”

The other three all yelled in excitement, hurrying off to get ready for the excursion now that they knew Leo was coming.

-

Donnie was the first one in the water. It made sense, he was the most aquatic of them all, and he’d been sick plenty of times from drying out when they were kids. They had barely even set up the picnic blanket before they heard the thunk of Donnie dropping his shell cover and running for the water. He dove in like the natural swimmer he was, resurfacing moments later with a laugh.

“It’s cold!” He shouted, “It’s almost 90 degrees outside, why is the water cold?”

“How should I know, genius?” Raph yelled back, “You’re the smart guy here!”

Donnie just dove back down, the only hint of him visible from the surface being the bright purple shorts he wore.

“What a dork.” Leo grinned, “He’s gonna get a sunburn and complain all day tomorrow.”

Mikey and Raph just laughed, Raph grabbing the sunblock to start smearing over himself. They formed a circle, each getting the others’ backs and shells for them. Leo purposefully poked his fingers just a little too hard into Mikey’s sides, laughing when Mikey yelped at what he thought was an attempted tickle.

“You watch your hands, Leonardo.” Mikey glared.

“Why, Mikey, whatever do you mean?” Leo placed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence, “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

Raph laughed this time, reaching over to shove Leo, just hard enough to knock him over into the grass, “That is the biggest fuckin’ lie.”

“I’m an innocent angel!”

“You’re full of shit is what you are!”

Mikey squealed as Leo pounced on Raph, the pair scuffling through the overgrown weeds, staining their clothes as they tussled. They yelled names at each other, but unlike years before their tones held no real heat. Mikey watched as they pushed and shoved at each other, happily deciding not to tell them that they were very quickly rolling towards the lake.

Leo’s last insult was cut off suddenly by a loud shout as Raph tumbled into the water, surprised both by the feeling and how Donnie had been right- it was fucking cold!

“What’s wrong, Raphie?” Leo teased, “Can’t handle a little water?”

Mikey took that moment to bolt, heading directly for where Raph and Leo had landed, hopping at the last possible second to leap over them and splash into the lake, subsequently drenching his brothers with the lake’s water. Leo and Raph both shouted loud enough for hun to hear beneath the surface and he was quick to escape before he faced their combined wrath, diving down towards where he could see Donnie, who had surfaced near the center of the lake to float and stare at the clouds.

“I’m causing problems on purpose.” He told Donnie, who just rolled his eyes.

“You’re a menace, Michelangelo. Forget the fact that we’re mutants and obviously inhuman, your actions are the reason we can’t join proper society.” He reached over and lightly bapped Mikey on the head, “You’d probably become a criminal.”

“My goal in life is to be an episode of a true crime podcast.” Mikey giggled, kicking up onto his back so he could float next to Donnie. They relaxed, enjoying a moment of comfortable semi-silence (seeing as Leo and Raph were still wrestling on the shore), taking in the wonderful feeling of the lake’s gentle waves against their skin.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Mikey asked, uncharacteristically quiet, almost like he was afraid to ask it.

“No.” Donnie’s answer was easy, “But I’m glad we did.”

——

I figured we’ve had a long streak of sad and angery lately, I wanted to show the light at the end of the tunnel.

-Monster Anon

STOPPPPPP THAT'S SOOO SWEEET AUGHHCKAGHAG. raph and leo play fighting instead of REAL fighting,,, gaougahh, the way they would have to get wAAAYY more comfortable with each other to even get to that point cause they'd associate each other with violence and pain for the longest time,,aggajfjmga... stoppppppppaghgosjfmgan.

[robotnik-mun]

Boy, it's been a while since I jawed about Robotnik, hasn't it? Well, thanks to Dune 2's interpretation of the Harkonnens and their homeworld Giedi Prime, I've developed an interpretation for why Robotnik was the way he is! So hey, might as well jaw about it.

So, as we know, the closest we ever get to a motive for bolt boy (aside from him being an asshole control freak) is that he is driven by a desire to create a 'perfect, ordered' world...

... and it's pretty clear that the end game for this vision of the world would basically be a lifeless wasteland of robots and machines, all controlled by him. It's a pretty insane goal, and you have to wonder how he ever developed such a vision of 'perfection' to begin with.

Well, I might have an idea, and it begins in Robotnik's home country of Overland. One detail we got about Overland was that it was heavily polluted, and running short on resources before the Great War broke out...

Like I said, I got this idea after watching Dune 2, and in Dune in general the Harkonnen homeworld of Giedi Prime is depicted as an over-industrialized, heavily polluted hellscape, and the films take it a step further by suggesting that, in part, the Harkonnen's over the top viciousness/insanity is influenced by generations worth of exposure to nonstop pollution.

So, that got me thinking about Robotnik. Predictable, I know, but then Vladimir Harkonnen IS one of the Lost Robotniks, heh.

So, what does this have to do with Robotnik?

Picture, if you will, that pollution in Overland was bad. Really, really bad. Bad enough that it causes widespread health issues, even going so far as to cause physical and mental defects. Robotnik is born Julian Kintobor and grows up with this, and despite being one of the upper class, his family is not untouched by it- he witnesses his peers succumb to it to various degrees, watch as bodies and minds break down or are left twisted by chemical exposure. He may have had friends who died young or were left ravaged. Heck, he and his brother might not have been the only Kintobors of their generation, just the only ones that survived.

Growing up, Julian sees all this and is terrified of the same happening to him. Eventually though this fear twists his mind something fierce, and soon he grows to not fear the rampant pollution for ruining so many Overlanders, but instead learns to despise the frailty of flesh that shatters so easily to toxins and chemicals. From there it extends to a hatred of organic life and sentient beings, who would willingly do this to themselves. He begins to see machines as superior to all-to-easily broken Mobians and Overlanders. By the time he's an adult he now has visions of a 'perfect' world free of organic weakness and organic chaos, and his view of the sub-par nature of flesh is only strengthened with the birth of his nephew Snively, clearly another victim of the warping effects of the pollution.

This also might explain why Robotnik wantonly pollutes as he does.

He does so as an expression of his hatred for the frailties of the flesh, seeking to create a world where organic life cannot thrive. Where weakness cannot thrive. And, in a sense, to demonstrate his mastery over the very thing that once terrified him so. He no longer fears the pollution, but is now lord of it, reveling in it and how it expresses his power and control over the world.

Or something like that. I'm pathologizing a cartoon villain from the 90s, cut me some slack XD

[thecreaturecodex]

Protean, Ricretillo

"Cyan naga" © Fur Affinity user hornedfreak, accessed at their gallery here

[Where I live, it's going to get 20 degrees Fahrenheit hotter in the next 48 hours. It definitely feels like chaotic creatures are messing with the weather around here. As a reminder, the names of all of these proteans are anagrams for people who are thematically linked. Someone important in the history of meteorology has a name that can be rearranged into "ricretillo". Can you guess who?]

Protean, Ricretillo CR 12 CN Outsider (extraplanar) This serpentine creature has gray scaled skin, shot through with luminous streaks of blue. Its head is stout, with a heavy lower jaw and frilly ears and gills. Small fins grow from its arms and along its back. The wind whips around it constantly.

It is said that when a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it can cause a hurricane in another. This is especially true if ricretillos are involved. A ricretillo is the protean of weather, and they are as capricious as the wind and as unpredictable as the waves. They are as comfortable in the water as in the air, and often swim back and forth between them, going without touching land for years or decades at a time. It is ricretillos that help to stir the Cerulean Sea of the Maelstrom, and they are responsible for making sure that weather patterns are never fully predictable.

A ricretillo spends most of its time camouflaged as a cloud or as the sea itself; they are rarely seen unless they want to be seen. They fight primarily in order to defend a weather pattern they enjoy; they will attack druids and clerics in the middle of casting a control weather spell, or may fight to defend them if they are attacked by others and the protean wills it. Ricretillos usually fight on the run, hurling spells and bolts of thunder or lightning. With their freedom of movement, a ricretillo can move effortlessly in hurricane winds or torrential floods, and they take full advantage of this. When they close into melee, they go for a grapple, charging their powerful tails with elemental forces and keeping grappled victims stunned and helpless until killed.  

Even by the standards of a protean, ricretillos have capricious moods. Their emotions or behavior can turn on a dime, making them somewhat hazardous to deal with. Clerics of elemental gods sometimes summon them with greater planar ally spells, but they are fickle allies even then unless magically controlled or called by a cleric of a protean lord. Their colors shift from white to grey to black with their moods, like a cloud, unless they consciously make an effort to control their pigment.

Ricretillo                CR 12 XP 19,200 CN Large outsider (air, chaos, extraplanar, water) Init +5; Senses blindsense 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft., Perception +22, stormsight Defense AC 26, touch 15, flat-footed 21 (-1 size, +5 Dex, +1 dodge, +12 natural) hp 157 (15d10+75) Fort +14, Ref +14, Will +9 DR 10/lawful; Immune acid, electricity, sonic; Resist cold 10; SR 23 Defensive Abilities amorphous anatomy, cloak of winds, freedom of movement Offense Speed 30 ft., swim 60 ft., fly 90 ft. (perfect) Melee bite +22 (2d6+8), 2 claws +22 (1d8+8 plus 1d6 electricity or sonic), tail slap +20 (1d12+12 plus 1d6 electricity and 1d6 sonic and grab) Ranged 2 bolts +19 touch (5d6 electricity or 5d6 sonic and staggered) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks constrict (1d12+12 plus 2d6 electricity and 2d6 sonic and stun), powerful blows (tail slap), stun (1 round, DC 22) Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +17 Constant—cloak of winds (DC 18) At will—gust of wind (DC 18), sleet storm, wind wall 3/day—control water, control winds, quickened fog cloud, empowered ice storm, river of wind (DC 19) 1/day—chain lightning (DC 21), cone of cold (DC 20), control weather (as a druid), sirocco (DC 21), wind walk Statistics Str 26, Dex 21, Con 20, Int 19, Wis18, Cha 21 Base Atk +15; CMB +24 (+28 grapple); CMD 32 (cannot be tripped) Feats Dodge, Empower SLA (ice storm), Flyby Attack, Mobility, Multiattack, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Quicken SLA (fog cloud) Skills Acrobatics +23, Fly +25, Knowledge (arcana) +19, Knowledge (geography, nature, planes) +22, Perception +22, Spellcraft +19, Stealth +29, Survival +22, Swim +25; Racial Modifiers +10 Stealth Languages Abyssal,Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Protean SQ camouflage,change shape (humanoid or elemental, alter self or elemental body III) Ecology Environment any (Maelstrom) Organization solitary, pair, cluster (3-6) or tumult (7-12) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Bolts (Su) A ricretillo can fire one elemental bolt as a standard action, and two as a full attack action. Treat this as a ranged touch attack with a range of 100 feet and no range increment. A creature struck takes 5d6 points of electricity or sonic damage; if a ricretillo uses two bolts in the same round, one must be electricity and the other sonic. A creature struck by a bolt must succeed a DC 22 Fortitude save or be staggered for 1 round. If a creature is struck by two bolts in the same round, it makes a single save at a -2 penalty. The save DC is Charisma based. Camouflage (Ex) A ricretillo gains a +10 racial bonus to Stealth checks, and can make Stealth checks without cover or concealment. Change Shape (Su) An ricretillo can change shape at will, but does not gain any healing from reverting to its normal shape, as is typical for proteans. It can only assume the form of elementals with the air or water subtypes. Stormsight (Ex) A ricretillo’s vision is not impaired by magical or mundane weather.

[thewolvesshade]

Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card!

Werewolves... Werewolves - god, why did 90% of it have to be smut? Why the hell do they even let this stuff into the library- ah-hah!

Shade plucked a dusty old book from the library shelf. He ran his fingers over the old leather cover, nearly sneezing from the amount of dust that had flown off this thing upon being touched. He flicked through the pages with care, one tug too hard and the yellowed sheets would disintegrate.

The parchment pages of the book were stained with coffee, carrying the scent of countless years of age and dust. Shade made sure to check - to make sure no one was looking. Seemed like everything was quiet, thankfully. He deliberately came early, no one's gonna be at the library at 7am anyways.

The Lycanthrope, scientifically known as "Homo Lycanus" is the scientific name for a rare variant of humans infected by a very ancient disease. The disease itself is estimated to have first appeared just after the Cretaceous period.

Initially, it was an infection that resided in primates - slowly tracking down lineages as it traded numbers for potency. What initially started off as higher aggression soon turned into an entire morphological change that was directly correlated with higher infection rates.

Scientists estimate that the first appearance of a "werewolf" (or man-wolf) was during the initial domestication of wolves. The interaction likely resulted in a cross-species contamination, wherein a wolf was infected with the Lycaenus disease, and spread it to other wolves.

This, unfortunately, led to multitudinous and unjustified deaths of wild wolves during the 18th and 19th centuries. While presenting asymptomatically, the disease adapted to wolf biology - which would bear catastrophic results for any human who happened to be bitten by an infected wolf.

Unfortunately, we are still unable to determine the correlation between the full moon and a forced transformation. Some have hypothesized that it is actually a spike in adrenaline and cortisol that causes the disease to present itself - a form of parasitic self-preservation turned up to an unnatural degree.

No cure has been discovered yet, beyond herbal remedies of superstition and death. We suspect vaccination could aid in the prevention of spreading it, but we have yet to find a willing test subject. Once lycanthropes start showing symptoms, treating it becomes far more difficult - perhaps impossible.

One thing is for certain, though. The longer a lycan remains infected, the more strain it places on his body. Every shift, even minor ones - can cause irreparable damage to the muscle and bone - let alone frequent blood loss.

No lycan has died a man, and those in old age find it harder and harder to shift back. It is why we must find this cure...

Shade's hand shook as his grip tightened on the book. He felt his heart rate spike, a sudden strike of fear causing a pang of pain in his chest. Without thinking, he quickly turned and started to bolt towards the door. There was a loud crack, his leg buckling as he felt a claw dig out of one of his shoes. It took a lot of effort not to scream...

There was already a sense of pressure in his back, he didn't have much time to get to his dorm. The horrifying, wet schlick sound met his ears as claws burst out under his nails, beads of blood dripping onto the book. The claws dug small holes into the cover, and slowly - the blood seeped into the pages. Thankfully, this wasn't a full moon. He could maintain control and prevent a full change if he just stayed calm-

Thud.

Of course there was someone else here... And he just had to run into them...

-

To be continued...

[callalillywrites]

11:30AM: Out and about when we get a text from the major electrical grid company for our state. Our area is suffering power outage and internet outage.

No power means we're completely locked out because our double-bolted doors are also fully engaged. No outside lock to unlock the top bolt. Only way in is through our garage and that's now out of the question.

Just finished up grocery shopping when we got the text so we have cold stuff and it's over 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully, we have a friend close enough by we can borrow their fridge and freezer.

We're now eating out which is something we were avoiding with buying groceries and kill some time until power is restored.

Internet restored 1:30PM. Power restored 2PM.

Food retrieved and now finally home (3PM).

Not leaving the house for the rest of the day.

But what an adventure today's been. Made the most of it but 0/10 recommend.

[shizuoi]

Happy talk shop Tuesday right back at you!!

What's a particular scene or line from a story you've previously posted that you're really proud of? Give us the director's cut on what you liked most about it!

ooohhhh director's (😉) cut!! has to be this little bit from the first section of set theory the l&co zombie au:

The woman bolts up. Ramrod straight, body bent at a perfect 90-degree angle. Her head tilts. George is suddenly reminded of the birds his gran would point out to him on those quiet summer afternoons in Sidcup. The warblers and hawfinches with their puffed breasts and sharp beaks and uncanny way of jerking their heads as they looked about. Their necks would always twist so quickly, the movement a blur, as they scouted their surroundings, always aware of their place on the food chain. The way that woman's head moves reminds him of that. Except she doesn't move like prey. The way her head jerks, reacting to sight or sound or whatever stimuli that piques her interest, is distinct of a predator.

this bit is hands down one of my favorites in ch1. i remember writing it and being like "yes. YES!" because it both captures our narrator's way of thinking and the sort of danger that i wanted to instill in the audience with regards to this zombies? zombies are different in every kind of media and i wanted it to be understood right off the bat that these zombies aren't just terrifying. there's something really eerie and off-putting about them, in the way that you recognize parts that don't make sense when put together.

[rjalker]

all of the public domain Legally Distinct™ keyswords in one post!

I originally drew these in 2015, and turned the absolutely terrible pictures into colored digital versions. These designs are public domain, meaning you can use them for literally anything and everything you want! Video games, books, movies, anything!

The files for them can all be downloaded here from the Internet Archive, along with the uncolored lineart if you want to make color variants! You can also edit the lineart and designs in any way you want! You don't need to keep them exactly like this.

Key to the Kingdom is the only "modern" one that I drew a few days ago. It has three variations since I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so I put it up to a poll for a drawing I'm gonna do. All of them are "canon" designs though :P

These are magical weapons that are intended to evolve as their wielder's character develops, branching out along different paths depending on the character's choices. The swords can speak and communicate with their wielder, who they usually choose themselves, though sometimes they're born directly from their weilder during Special Magical Circumstances™ (What circumstances? That's for you to decide for your story!)

And if you're looking at them and going ???? at Chipmunk's name, all I can tell you is that one literally came to me in a dream, and that was literally it's name in the dream, and who am I to argue when my dream's gonna give me such a cool looking sword design??

Enjoy!

[ID: Ninteen images, showing seventeen different fantasy swords against white backgrounds, with the name written next to each one. One of the designs has three variations.

The first is named Blazing Star. It has a hilt shaped like a skull, with the spaces for the handle forming the eyes. Most of it is light grey, but there are several blue crosses with four pointed stars on them that look like they’re made of sparkling gems along the length of the blade, which turns at a 90 degree angle at the top. Along the metal of the top part are darker angled squares of grey as though forming a grill.

The second is named Chipmunk. It has a cyan circular hilt with pairs of curves on either side like horns or thorns, and the color grows darker as it goes up the blade, going from cyan to teal, to royal blue, to blue-black at the top. The blade is narrower at the base and wider at the top, with stylized lines like clouds or closed fists on the edges, with the lines done in white as the colors of the blade get darker. Across the middle are two white zig-zags forming a bolt like lightning. The very top of the blade is split in two, with one section appearing like a stylized cloud or fist, and the other side having sharper indents and curves, like a bird or snake with its neck curled.

The third is named Crystal Moonlight, and is cyan and sky blue. The hilt is circular but covered in spikes and crystal shapes, with the shaft of the blade thin and made up of three parallel sections, which branch out and twist at the top into sections with three spikes like a fork, twisting around to cross eachother.

The fourth is named Duality Mended, and is made of two separate blades that fit into eachother, one blue with purple detail, the other purple with blue detail. The hilt is round, with a pattern of triangles and circles on each side. On the blue, the triangles point outward, while on the purple side, they point inward. The blue hilt has two triangle shaped cuts in the side, and the purple has matching spikes opposite these. The shaft of each weapon is decorated with circles and squares, with another triangle cut on the blue side, and a matching spike on the purple. At the top, they turn into a pointed curve like a spiky question mark, with two spikes locked together. The metal sections here have the centers cut out in different shapes. The points of each blade narrow together to form a larger point.

The fifth is named Fall to the Stars, and has a round hilt with a spike at the top left, like an upside down capital letter Q. The inside of the hilt around the handle is curved like a dripping liquid that's frozen in place. Most of this sword of grey-purple scattered with small white four-pointed stars, with darker grey along part of the right side, crossing the hilt. The blade curves like a question mark, with the top section park purple metal, with holes cut out of the center, showing a light grey metal or rock that forms most of the top, almost like a hammer. The stone has two sharp points on the front, and a back with smaller points separated by curves.

The sixth is named Fire Thorn, and has a color gradient from red at the top, to gold at the bottom. The “crest” of the blade is a red spiral that is shaped like a dragon’s head with the open mouth on the left, and the lower jaw curling back into a tongue of flame.

The top section has serrated edges with blunted teeth, separated by small pairs of triangles that form hour glass shapes. The rest of the main section curves down below this, narrowing suddenly into a gold handle, then flaring out again into a curved spike like bone.

The seven is named Key to the Kingdom, and this one has three variations. It is shaped like a key, with a light grey blade with “teeth” at the top shaped like half of a hexagon, with notches in the sides. The hilt is made up of three loops, with darker grey above them connecting them to the blade. Version 1 has a solid blade and teeth. Version 2 has a diamond shaped hole in the center of the tooth section. Version 3 has the same cut out in the teeth, along with multiple diamond shapes cut out of the blade.

The eighth is named Path to the Sun, The eighth is named Path to the Sun, and is pale green, with the handle and one decorative wheel desaturated yellow, like dried grass. The handle has two spikes at the end, and appears as though it is wrapped in leather. Above the handle, the "blade" of the weapon splits into two, twisting backwards where they meet the decorative wheel or gear, which is yellow on the outside with different sections, with a green and yellow rings in the center. After this, the two split beams rejoin in the shape of a curved axe head with sharp points at the top and bottom, with one of the tines that form it twisting back behind it.

The ninth is named Queen of Swans, and is half black metal, and half white feathers, with half of the hilt made up of curves feathers, the other metal, and the handle itself the two twisted together. The black metal of the blade curves before twisting back into a sharp point, with the feathers on the other side mirroring it. Where the two connect, they fade between a short gradient of dark grey to light grey. Small white circles cut holes in the metal on the blade and hilt.

The tenth is named Ranging War, and is monochrome grey, with a dark grey blade that forms a blunt end at the top, with three triangles around a circle for the radiation symbol cut through the top, then a line of small cut out circles continuing down the center. The blade is in three sections, with a gap between the center and the outer edges, held in place only by their connection at the top. The two outer edges flare out and up suddenly before the hilt, forming a guard. The hilt is lighter grey, and flares out at the base, where it is striped with darker grey to form a pommel.

The eleventh is named Silver Light, and has a simple shape, with the inside covered in geometric shapes making it look like it's made of crystal. The hilt is a hexagon with a spoke on the lower left like a capital letter Q, with the spoke pink, the outer edges grey, and the inside dark orange. The blade is thin light grey, and the top section forming the "teeth" is darker grey with sharp pink edges forming two larger triangles on the right, and a smaller on on the lower left.

The twelfth is named The Final Light, and is black, red, white, and pale yellow. The top section is shaped like a capital letter A turned on its side so that it resembles the open mouth of a dragon, with four yellow eyes around the cut out center, which is shaped like a bolt of lightning. The core of the blade is black, which is visible through the bolt of lightning, part of the mouth and jaw, and protrudes from the back of the "head" as two short curved-back horns. The four eyes have white stripes around them, and behind them is yellow like a mane. The rest of the head is striped red and darker red, in straight lines and chevrons. The central part of the blade is twisted together black and red, with the red covered in larger yellow circles with black centers like large scales, and a white zig-zag connecting them. The hilt is shaped like the greek letter omega, mostly a circle, with the ends twisting outward rather than connecting. This section is solid black.

The thirteenth is named Ties that bind, and is shaped like a skeleton key that is made of light brown wood, with thin teeth in a complicated shape, with red ribbons tied around many of them, and on the hilt, with a scarf or bandana tied around the middle of the shaft. The hilt is a stylized rectangle with extra curves at the top and bottom, and a red diamond above it.

The fourteenth is named Time Splicer, and is mostly dark green, with the top section shaped like fingers with the thumb folded, holding a purple spike. The main section of the shaft curves in and out like repeating hourglasses, with dark orange circles in two of the sections, with ridges drawn on the green sections like tree bark. The hilt is a simple curved, solid purple hexagon, with a dark orange pentagon gem at the bottom as a pommel.

The fifteenth is named Token of Solitude, and it is the shortest of all of the weapons. It has a simple, silver blade that crooked back to form a skeleton key shape with three tines, and a pink hilt like half of a heart shape, with the handle wrapped in darker orange-pink.

The sixteenth is named Wolfsbane, and the head and blade are the same blue-grey with scattered white five-pointed stars. The blade twists in on itself, before forming a curved, random head like a battleaxe. The hilt is grey metal, with the handle wrapped in the darker grey. There is an acid green spike twisting and curving downward on the bottom off of one side to point downward. The seventeenth is named From the Shadows, and is purple, black, and grey, with each color a different blade tied together with thin wire in three sections. Each is jagged, in an uneven, zig-zagging shape, with the handle alternating grey and black, with a purple pommel. End ID.]

[theterribletenno]

Juvia the Rain Warframe

I love water stuff. Underwater zones, water-based characters and powers, I just love water.

Like all other frames from this season Juvia is obtained from the Duviri game mode. Completing any objective during the Sorrow Spiral will award players with one Juvia's Tear or two if playing on the steel path. These tears can then be exchanged with Luscinia's courtier form in the Chamber of Muses during any spiral other than sorrow. Luscinia's tear exchange options are as follows:

Juvia blueprint (12 Juvia's Tear)

Juvia chassis blueprint (12 Juvia's Tear)

Juvia neuroptics blueprint (12 Juvia's Tear)

Juvia systems blueprint (12 Juvia's Tear)

Hailstone blueprint (5 Juvia's Tear)

Hailstone ball (5 Juvia's Tear)

Hailstone pouch (5 Juvia's Tear)

5x Rare Duviri resource (1 Juvia's Tear, stock rotates each spiral)

10x Uncommon Duviri resource (1 Juvia's Tear, stock rotates each spiral)

20x Common Duviri resource (1 Juvia's Tear, stock rotates each spiral)

Sundog Ephemera (100 Juvia's Tear)

The Sundog Ephemera (also included in Juvia's premium bundle) is a circular rainbow centered around the warframe's chest which is always behind the warframe no matter what angle they are viewed from. The Sundog's default energy color is white with the colors of the rainbow being an additive layer. Each time an ability is cast the Sundog Ephemera surges brightly and while a toggled ability is active it will shimmer and release colorful sparks.

Health: 200 (300 at rank 30) Shields: 500 (600 at rank 30) Armor: 105 Energy: 150 (200 at rank 30) Sprint Speed: 1.15

Passive: Elemental status effects inflicted by Juvia's weapons and abilities last 50% longer.

Ability 1: Thunderclap, 25 energy. With a clap of her hands Juvia lets loose a bolt of lightning and the boom of thunder. When cast all enemies in an 18 meter, 90 degree cone in front of Juvia will take 100 times 1+X (where X is equal to the enemy's level divided by 10) electric damage which is followed after a half-second delay by an equal amount of blast damage with a guaranteed status proc from both instances of damage. When the blast damage triggers all affected enemies will also be ragdolled and knocked away from Juvia.

Ability 2: Freezing Rain, toggled ability, drains 3 energy per second. Juvia is the mistress of misery, and her sorrow falls heavily on the heads of unwary foes, causing them to suffer and slowly die. While Freezing Rain is active Juvia creates a rainstorm centered on herself with a radius of 45 meters which deals 25 times 1+X (where X is equal to the enemy's level divided by 10) cold damage per half-second with 20% status chance.

Ability 3: Blinding Fog, toggled ability, drains 3 energy per second. Juvia generates a thick fog around herself which obfuscates enemy vision, causing chaos on the battlefield. While Blinding Fog is active Juvia exudes a blinding vapor in a 30 meter radius cloud around herself. All enemies within this cloud suffer a -40% accuracy penalty, and become vulnerable to friendly fire.

Ability 4: Heavy Weather, toggled ability, drains 1 energy per second. When Juvia's mood is at its foulest her powers intensify, making them even more dangerous to her foes but also draining her energy faster. Heavy Weather has no direct effect, but causes all of Juvia's other abilities to gain +50% range and +100% strength but also increases their energy cost by 100%. Heavy Weather also applies to abilities infused into her with the Helminth system.

Subsumed ability: Thunderclap.

Signature Weapons Hailstone: Juvia's signature sidearm, categorized as a throwing weapon. The blueprint and components for Hailstone are purchased from Luscinia in exchange for Juvia's Tears, requiring 2 Hailstone balls and 2 Hailstone pouches to craft. Hailstone is unique among thrown secondary weapons as it is neither a throwing star or knife nor a handheld explosive, instead it takes the form of heavy round balls of solid metal. Hailstone has a semi-auto trigger, a small magazine for a thrown weapon with a quick reload, and deals surprisingly heavy damage at the cost of a slow rate of fire and slow projectiles. Hailstone has quite high crit and status chance as well as a high critical multiplier and deals pure impact damage. As a unique bonus headshots with the Hailstone gain an additive +100% crit and status chance. As Juvia's signature secondary weapon she is an expert at handling the heavy iron balls and slightly improves magazine size when she wields it. Kusari-Gama: Juvia's signature melee weapon, a unique and special blade & whip. The Kusari-Gama can be purchased for the Drifter in Teshin’s cave for 50 Pathos Clamp, unlocking the blueprint for warframe use which is crafted using assorted materials from the Duviri game mode. Unlike most other blade & whip melee weapons the ends of the Kusari-Gama are nearly identical, a pair of curved sickle blades, one ever so slightly larger than the other. The Kusari-Gama has a high attack speed at the cost of low damage for a blade & whip melee weapon, above normal critical and status chance, and deals roughly equal values of impact, puncture, and slash damage. Guarding heavy attacks with the Kusari-Gama performs a whirlpool-like spinning sweep which ragdolls all enemies within a radius equal to 2x the weapon's listed range and applies a guaranteed cold status proc. This special attack is on a 30 second cooldown with melee kills reducing remaining cooldown time by 1 second each. The Kusari-Gama is also made to be compatible with new Kamaitachi stance; a blade & whip stance with combos that alternate between short-reaching attacks with the main hand dealing bonus damage and long-reaching attacks with the off-hand. The Kamaitachi stance is dropped by Ghouls in the Plains of Eidolon and Hyenas in the Orb Vallis. As Juvia's signature melee weapon the Kusari-Gama gains a slight bonus to range when she wields it.

Closing Notes: Holy shit look how tiny those text boxes are. She's so simple. Cute little abilities without a hundred moving parts. I bet people are gonna find all kinds of ways to break the game with her. I also bet people will go crazy for the Sundog Ephemera. Juvia is named after Juvia Lockser from Fairy Tail who also has hydrokinesis powers.