#Durable Umbrellas

[wishfulsketching]

I deeply wish I could inject your art into my veins I love it sooooo much. No ask you just do REALLY good nygmobs and I feel like there's a new one every time I open tumblr it's so scary /pos

Don't worry, I scare myself too. I also can't recommend such untested medical practices BUT I can continue being hyperfixated and unhinged about these two, so here you go!

They should've been given a chance to do some dumb shit together

[yukinyaminyato]

how to fuck am i supposed to get over my crush when everytime i spend time w him and look at him i feel Weird and Fluttery

[trollbreak]

Junie and fishys old friends do u kno

[tneumbrella7]

Durable Lightweight 24” Metal Frame Kids Umbrella

[sleepinginahammock]

Choosing the Best Durable and Lightweight Patio Umbrella - 2024 Edition:

#durablepatioumbrella #lightweightpatioumbrella #patioumbrellas #umbrellasonwheels #backyardshade

[solbello]

The Solbello beach shade umbrella is the only wind-driven umbrella in the world that self-adjusts as the wind shifts. This makes it the safest and most convenient beach umbrella on the market. The Solbello umbrella is made of lightweight aluminum and marine-grade stainless steel, making it durable and portable. The sail material is UV-resistant and water-repellent, so you can stay comfortable and protected from the sun and rain. Shop Now!

[ilhoonftw]

i went to primark to return something and saw the barbie movie merch..... it's basically the shit they wore in that trailer mugshot ??? also it's ugly

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 08

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

Tw: dead animal and copious amounts of blood

…

“Welcome to The Umbrella Academy, Number Zero.”

“Number Zero, get up.”

“Go to your room Number Zero.”

“Do what you're told, Number Zero.”

“Number Zero! Come here.”

“Stop crying Number Zero.”

“You aren’t a baby Number Zero.”

“No dinner for Number Zero.”

“You're not good enough Number Zero.”

“Stop misbehaving Number Zero.”

Phrases I've heard Reginald say time and time again. I hated that girl Number Zero, whoever she was.

My name is Y/n L/n, and Reginald Hargreeves knew that. But I hated him too because he made me like this. A freak of nature and it was clear he hated me too.

Not once would you ever hear praise and the words ‘Number Zero’ in the same sentence.

So I never understood why he adopted me if he couldn’t stand the sight of me. But deep down I knew why, it was the same reason why he adopted all of us children he needed our powers not us.

He would make me do whatever he wanted without concern or consequence. And nobody would dare tell him no, cause he did the same thing to everyone else around him.

I slept on the cold table for what felt like years, as my mind drifted to days I'd like to forget.

..

17 YEARS AGO

I stood alone in the middle of an unfamiliar room anxious for what was to come. There was no furniture or even windows except for a small wooden desk, and the only glow in said room came from the desk lamp.

Today was my first day of training, Reginald explained to me. And I was a scared twelve-year-old who’d just arrived at the Academy.

He stood in front of me, stopwatch in his bony hand. But he wasn't the only person in the room. There was another man I did not know, and all I can remember about him was how tall he was.

“Begin.”

My stance was shaky as a withering tree when Reginald uttered those words. I didn't know what to do, I just kept standing there. But the man didn't.

He inched closer and closer so I moved back, extremely terrified when it clicked in my head what the man was about to do.

“Do it.”

The man’s steps wavered, but he followed instructions. He raised the gun in his right hand and he shot me.

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun made the room shake and my screaming body instantly hit the cold wooden floor.

Then I heard the stopwatch start.

The bullet hit me directly in the heart. The man must've been some type of trained killer because of the way he would hit me with great accuracy each time. As expected I was still conscious but too scared to move, so I sat there paralyzed and cried. I cried because It hurt. I cried for my mother. I cried because that was all I could do.

Nobody in the room moved; they were waiting for the thing to happen.

And they didn't have to wait that long. At first, it felt like gears were turning in my head. But from the perspective of Reginald the somewhat dark room was illuminated by the swirls of bright light coming from my chest. Then I could move my feet and fingers and I could blink.

I sat upwards from my uncomfortable position as the bullet that had just been in me popped back out. And the spilled blood surrounding my body reversed back into my chest as well as my old bullet wound was completely healed.

I was as good as new.

“Again.”

..

“Number Zero, get up.”

Every day felt like a constant battle. I was beaten, mangled and killed every single day in new sick ways that he came up with.

“We have a lot to work on, Number Zero. You have missed years of training already. You cannot play anymore.”

I went to bed everyday yearning for it to be over but I kept coming back each day for more. I learned to fight from getting my ass kicked. He tested my durability and timed me, by telling me to break my bones and rip off body parts, just to see how long it would take for them to heal.

“You need to be better, Number Zero.”

“I'm trying!” I screamed but it fell on deaf ears. I'd never fought anyone before, he expected everything to be engraved in my head by day five. And when it wasn't he started taking things away.

“No dinner for Number Zero.”

..

I was angry. I threw tantrums, destroyed my room and hurt myself. Which never mattered to him.

“Stop misbehaving Number Zero.”

By thirteen I did what I had to but I tuned the world out. My thought process was whatever happened to me just happens and I'll always be okay.

He turned me into a shell of my past self. Who could kill whoever he needed and get back up whenever pushed down. And I don’t think anybody knew the extent my private lessons were going and I wasn't going to tell them either way.

..

“Number Zero! Come here.”

It wasn't only myself I had to heal, he tried to have me heal others too.

I'd found myself again in the same room where I was first trained. This time accompanied by a dog, I don’t remember what breed he was but he was cute and fluffy and I wished I could keep him.

The same man from before with the same gun stood against the wall.

“Begin.”

The dog was let off his leash and ran towards me. He licked my face, he wanted to play, he was a nice dog.

My happiness didn't last for long, because the man got off the wall and headed towards us. I hugged the small dog hoping that if I held him hard enough he wouldn't do what he was assigned. But that man always followed instructions.

“Do it.”

The fluffy dog was taken out of my arms. He barked in protest and tried to run back over to me but he never made it. He was shot right in his stomach. I burst into tears, trying to run out of the room.

“Stop crying Number Zero. You aren’t a baby.”

Reginald grabbed me and made me face the dying dog. He threw me towards him yelling a command.

“Do what you're told, Number Zero.”

I tried, I honestly did, but I couldn’t do it. No one told me how he just expected me to know how to heal the dog. I've only healed my mother and I wasn't even sure how I did that.

My hands were covered in the dog's blood as I sobbed. I thought if I just thought about it hard it would happen, and yes my hands did flicker but the dog still laid there dead.

“I can’t,” I whispered

I wanted to save that dog. I looked up at the disappointed Reginald, not knowing what to do.

“You're not good enough Number Zero.”

The dog's life force was officially gone. He was the first thing I let die.

I screamed and kicked trying to get my hands back on the dog but I was dragged out of the room.

“Mission one failed,” Reginald said out loud while writing in his book.

..

PRESENT DAY

“Miss Y/n, are you listening?” The ape snapped his fingers in front of my dazed face. I was still on the table in the operations room, and judging by Pogo’s restlessness I'd been here for a while.

I gasped while grabbing onto my head, which still felt partially bashed in. “How long have I been here for?” I asked him.

Pogo’s hairy hands went into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a tiny pocket watch. “Well, Master Diego dropped you off here around Nine pm yesterday and now it’s about a quarter till Nine am. Almost Ten hours Miss Y/n.”

“Ten hours and my head hasn’t healed yet?” My clasped hands moved from my head to my hair as I tugged and worried. “What’s going on with me, a—are my powers not working??” I started to hyperventilate. Without these powers, I'm sure that I’ll succumb to my injuries and die.

The ape shook his head. “Your powers are working just fine, don’t worry my dear. I've been here ever since Master Diego found me and told me of the situation. Your head is healing, yes, but very slowly.”

I didn’t want this to be the end, there was still so much I could do, but then again I've never actually put any thought into how it would go.

Being bludgeoned by a man with a kid’s mask on is not how I'm leaving this world.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves just as Vanya taught me a while back. Oh shit. “Where’s Vanya?”

Pogo looks away from me. “After the attack on the academy yesterday, your other siblings minus Master Luther deemed it was too risky for her to stay. Because she cannot protect herself like the rest of you..”

“They kicked her out?” I begrudgingly stood up from my seat. “Why do they always do that? I saved her. It's okay now, and she would’ve never gotten hurt if she wasn't looking for me.”

“Miss Y/n please, I don't advise you to leave you aren’t healed. Please sit back down, you can find her later.” He was right, even just standing up took the wind out of me.

Maybe my age was finally catching up with me and this is how my life will continue. I took a seat back down as I finally registered what I was wearing by looking down, I no longer had my jacket. Just jeans and my black shirt.

“Oh! I think Master Diego hung up your jacket back in your bedroom.” Pogo said, sensing my confusion. “It’s a miracle that thing had no blood on it or tears, I know how much that jacket means to you.”

“That’s very nice of him? I didn't know he had it in him.”

“Of course my dear, everyone worries for you. You always took beating after beating with no repercussions. It always amazed me. That being said, you need to be careful.” He explains.

I scratch at my freezing skin. “What?”

“Because you need to take it easy, yes you are formidable but that doesn’t mean you can go around just injuring yourself.” The monkey's accent enunciated every word.

I laugh. “Reginald used to think so.” Pogo stops mid-thought at the mention of him. He looks at me with sorrow in his big eyes. “Never mind that.” He says boldly.

“You took lots of hits yesterday even before getting your head caved in. Other areas of your body heal faster but the brain is such a febrile thing. You need your brain to be able to connect with your powers, being shot once is one thing. But being hit with such intenseness, you're glad your brain was still able to do it. Other times in the future you won't be as lucky, my girl.”

Thank God I stayed awake. No literally thank God, whatever grass field I woke up in felt like death.

“Stay here for maybe five more hours and it should be healed.”

My tense body shivers as I speak up. “Pogo I can’t wait that long, who knows what I missed I need to get back out there.”

“No, I’m prescribing you to stay here and heal your injury.” The short man said.

“Vanya has been kicked out, people just attacked our house, I haven’t seen Klaus and Five forever and who knows what the idiot patrol is going to do next!” I ramble while on my fingers everything that's been going on recently.

He looks up at my disgruntled figure.

“Pogo, please.”

He sighs. “There is a slight alternative, however, it's never been tested and is probably quite painful.” Pogo turns from me to rummage in a few shelves.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I'm afraid you're not going to be happy when you figure out what it is, Miss Y/n.” He yelled from the other side of the room. “I'm sure I've heard worse, Pogo.”

The man returns with an old wooden box covered in small detailed vines. “Your father was always worried that any moment could be your last. For example, If you were too weak to activate your powers or didn’t on purpose.”

“Once you were around fourteen, he started to work on your blood by gathering samples. He did things to alter the samples to create the perfect healing serum or just a boost for your powers.”

I told Pogo I'd be ready for any news but this had been terrifying. “When did he have time to even do that?”

“All of your checkups here in the operations room.” Pogo tilts his head down. “That’s when he would take samples.”

“That is so fucked.” I yell. “How could I have never suspected something was happening when I would be in here almost every day?”

“None of this is your fault, your father just wanted to make sure you're safe. Even if his measures were a bit forward.”

I shake my head at him. “Pogo, this wasn't out of love at all, don't you realize he only did this because he needed me for his purpose? So that I couldn’t get free of this. He only needed me alive for my powers, not because he cared.”

“I assure you your father meant well, somewhere in his heart. But now is the time to use it to speed up the process of your head healing.” Pogo lifts open the top of the box revealing a velvet inside. And rows and rows of tiny indents in the velvet that held little vials of liquid. This liquid looked exactly like my powers, even though it was made out of my normal-colored blood.

It makes me shudder thinking about what he did to it, and me. But I know I had to get it done if I wanted to get out of here. “Okay, so we just inject it into my arm? And I walk out of here after?”

“Not exactly..” says Pogo. “We don't know what could happen, it’s never been tested on anyone. But my best guess is to inject it right into the injury so it will spread there.”

“You mean you're going to stick a needle into my head?” I look at him in horror.

“Why yes, unless you want to take my instructions to wait here for five hours.”

“Grab the needle.”

..

After a bunch of hesitance and worrying Pogo had me lay down on the table fully. He walked up to my indented head with the syringe and without warning stuck it in my head. “Pogo!” I cry out.

The ape didn't respond, instead, he put the box back on the shelf where he got it. “How do you feel?” He asked.

At this point I didn't feel anything different from the splitting headache my broken head was giving me. “I feel the same-“

Then it started to hit me. It felt like a mix of adrenaline and crack all at once.

My powers shined around my head, the healing felt like it was moving faster than I could compute it. It made my body feel like it was on fire, and I signaled that to the ape by screaming out in pain. But it didn't last long because like I said, my powers were moving fast. I blinked and my head felt as good as new.

Pogo stared at me in shock at the display he just watched. “It’s a miracle!” He grins. “How did it feel?”

My eyes darted across the room trying to put into words, outside of my head, how the sensation felt.

“Well I wouldn't recommend it, but it got the job done. Hopefully, I never have to take that again. But thank you Pogo” I reply standing up while my wobbly legs try to position themselves correctly.

“I need to do something that's going to contribute. Either find Five or Vanya or talk to everyone else.” I mutter under my breath.

He stuttered wanting to say more and try to convince me any way he could but my path to the door was clear.

“Thanks again, Pogo!” I shouted over my shoulder. I wasn't even sure how the rest of the mansion would look after the attack, I just wished everyone was okay.

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[fannyrosie]

Autumn in summer, and summer in autumn.

These pictures were taken on a cool (18°C) July day, when the only things reminding us of summer were the sunlight, the sky colour and the flowers. That day, I felt like dressing in autumn colours. Today, it's October 4th, but the temperature has reached 29°C, which is quite abnormal in Québec. Is it a bit concerning? Definitely. I guess it's once again my cue to encourage you to thrift durable things instead of buying new, at least, when you can. And durable means you can keep your loved things for a long time! I know we all have a big footprint on our poor planet, but we might as well try our best to reduce it in ways we can for the short time we are here.

Outfit rundown Apron dress: second-hand Pink House Turtleneck: second-hand Cecil McBee Bag: second-hand Emily Temple Cute Shoes: second-hand Queen Bee Spice rack brooch: handmade by me Fox pin: gift from Little Rose Planet Earrings: handmade from real nuts by a friend Pretzel: handmade from a real pretzel (Design Festa) Anko toast and basket brooches: Artists from Design Festa Ladybug on leaf brooch: gift from a friend Flowers are all from my flower comb/pins collection (no brand) Umbrella/parasol: some shop in Montreal over 10 years ago (I can't remember)

[terkmc]

HACS, the Harrison Armory Combat System

The Harrison Armory Combat System, HACS for short, is a relatively new system of martial art developed by Harrison Armory. Designed to integrate with standard Armory doctrine, HACS is a modernized and modified version of traditional weapon-based martial art, mathematically optimized with aggregate combat data harvesting and extensive simulations in order to best suit the Armory’s propensity for energy and plasma based weapons.

The non-physical nature of an energy blade allows it to be able to pass through another physical blade, thus making strikes with an energy weapon almost impossible to block or parry; but also conversely makes it unable to block an attack from another weapon from simply passing through it. Thus, HACS is defined by its aggressive structure based on the principles of seizing the initiative and staying on the offense, direct footwork and economy of action, range control, and violence of action.

HACS fighters will typically stay out of range to formulate a plan of attack and maneuver into advantageous positioning, then explode into a short series of decisive strikes to force the enemy to defend. If the initial series of strikes do not kill or incapacitate, HACS fighters will then try to establish distance once again and return to neutral, preferably with follow up unarmed strike to push the enemy back and maintain initiative, though simply back-stepping is also an option if further aggression is ill-advised. HACS footwork is characteristically direct, moving back and forth in a straight line from the user to their opponent and eschewing complex footwork often seen in more traditional arts.

HACS encompass most forms of traditional melee weapons such as swords, axes, halberds and more, but befitting of a modern constructed martial art systems, HACS also accounts for modern modification and new designs, such variable emission setting allowing user to change the length of a blade mid-fight or even mid swing. HACS official training and certification requires a demonstration of mastery of the system's two basic disciplines, Energy on Blade (EB), the use of energy weapons against physical weapons, and Energy on Energy (EE), the use of energy weapons against each other. For most standard users and legionnaires, these two are enough, though further advanced disciplines are available for training, such as Energy and Shield (ES), incorporating the usage of personal shielding system into the martial art, both in conjunction with and against energy weapons.

Designed for vertical integration, HACS-M (Harrison Armory Combat System – Mechanized) is a sub-discipline of HACS for usage with mech combat. Formulated for ease of transition between systems, HACS-M employs much of the same principles and moves as HACS, maintaining its core direct aggression. The added durability of a mech and its comparatively lesser agility means HACS-M incorporate “Double Strike” in place of some defensive maneuver. “Double Strike” is an umbrella term for techniques where the user intentionally takes an attack in order to counter attack the opponent, using computer-mapped positioning to maximize armor placement and avoid damage to critical systems. Though designed for chassis class 1 to 3 and obviously ill-advised to unarmored personal combat, HACS-M has also been adapted for personal combat by heavily armored fighters, typically hard suit or power armor users.

As with most theories when put into practice, HACS and HACS-M has also splintered into countless variations over the years. While a centralized system still exists within the Armory’s standard armed force training, various other subsystems have popped up either through further independent modification, local adaptation, or syncretism with other martial arts. Of note are:

Valkyrie, an adaptation for aerial combat

Stinging Blade, a highly unorthodox and controversial syncretism with Jager Kunst pioneered by Sparri diaspora on Ras Sharma

DeSys, a school that emphasizes the destruction of enemy weapons instead.

[kaialone]

Official Guilty Gear Anthology- Short Story "Paper Bags Are Neat" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "Paper Bags Are Neat", written by だばば (Dababa)

It's the second out of five short stories included in the "Official Guilty Gear Anthology", which was available online for a limited time only from April 1st to April 8th 2024, as part of April Fools' Day celebrations.

--

Paper Bags are Neat

"Ahh…"

It was a day with heavy rain. And although Faust held tightly onto his umbrella while he was out on a walk, a car recklessly passed by him at tremendous speed. He was pelted by a torrent of large water droplets, drenching him from head to toe. Of course, the paper bag he was wearing got completely soaked as well.

Stumbling, Faust hurried back home. Without delay, he washed his hands, gargled, and dried off his entire body. Then, he gingerly removed the now soggy and limp paper bag from his head…

And rather than throwing it away, he placed it on a well-ventilated shelf—which he called "the waiting room"—before rushing to the closet.

He opened the door to reveal a large variety of paper bags stuffed inside.

"Which… to choose…?"

With fingers as thin as dead twigs, he browsed through the paper bags, one by one.

A paper bag that would suit his current mood… A paper bag with a style he hadn't chosen recently…

A rainy, splashy, blue kind of mood…

"Blue…?"

He pulled out a thick, glossy, deep blue paper bag. It was durable, and even seemed water-repellent, so maybe he could get back at the rain with this one.

Triumphantly, Faust jabbed the bag with his finger, to poke a hole into it.

"…Ow."

It was too durable, so that wasn't gonna work out!

"Next patient, please…"

His next pick was a white paper bag with an embossed floral pattern, and foil stamping on all four corners.

He'd forgotten how he obtained such a whimsical, lovely paper bag, but he just quickly poked a hole in it, put it on, and looked in the mirror.

"Ah… cute…"

He was so cute. To think that he had the potential to be this cute…

…To think that just one choice could make him feel this excited about himself…

"Mustn't… get hooked…"

He really shouldn't be relying on something such as this to get attention. So, he shook his head, and decided to pass up on it this time.

"Next patient, please…"

For now, he wanted to choose the same type of paper bag he always wore.

To the untrained eye, they looked like completely ordinary kraft paper bags with no strings. However, according to Faust, kraft paper not only comes in unbleached, semi-bleached, bleached, and other variants, plus hundreds of different colors—but if you also consider aspects such as the thickness of the paper or jagged edges, no two paper bags in the world are the same.

Therefore, two thirds of the closet were filled with what looked like regular paper bags. But to Faust, each and every one of them was both precious and priceless.

One of them caught his eye, so he picked it up to try it out. It seemed almost ideal in terms of texture, size, how easy it was to poke a hole in it, and how secure it felt to him.

He swiftly poked a hole into it and put it on.

"Whoa…"

It smelled of delicious bread. If it ends up being sunny tomorrow, he should go out and get another paper bag like this one.

--

[lyssophobiaa]

Quick sketch for Piers’ bionic arm.

Design Features

•Aesthetics: Streamlined, ergonomic design with a minimalist look, often featuring a matte or metallic finish.

•Materials: Lightweight composites like carbon fiber and titanium, providing durability without sacrificing mobility.

•Color Options: Customizable colors or finishes, including options for skin-like textures or futuristic metallics.

Technology

•Actuation: Advanced motors and actuators that enable precise, fluid movement mimicking natural limb motion.

•Sensors: Integrated sensors (e.g., myoelectric sensors) to detect muscle signals for intuitive control and movement.

•Feedback Systems: Haptic feedback mechanisms to provide users with sensory information about grip strength and object texture.

Safety and Durability

•Water and Dust Resistance: High IP ratings to protect against environmental factors.

•Emergency Features: Manual override systems or fail-safes in case of technology malfunction.

Advanced Technological Interface

•Integrated Biosensors: Built-in biosensors that can analyze blood or interstitial fluid samples to measure viral load in real time.

•Data Analytics: Utilizes algorithms to process biosensor data, providing insights on viral dynamics and trends.

•Alerts and Notifications: Real-time alerts sent to the user or healthcare provider when viral load exceeds predetermined thresholds.

•Communication System: Integrated with a communicator on the wrist, the arm serves as a reliable device for maintaining contact with his team. This system includes encrypted channels for secure communication during high-stakes operations.

•Objective Management Display: The arm features a holographic display that provides a detailed version of the communicator’s data, allowing Piers to view mission objectives and tactical data in real-time. This feature minimizes the need for external devices and keeps critical information accessible.

Augmented Reality (AR) Compatibility

•Enhanced Visualization: The arm’s display projects augmented reality overlays, allowing Piers to see additional information, such as enemy positions, weapon stats, or tactical directions, directly in his line of sight.

•Environmental Scanning: The arm can analyze the surroundings for potential threats, detect biological or chemical hazards, and provide alerts for safer navigation through hostile environments.

Electricity Conduction and Control

•Energy Conduit Design: The bionic arm acts as a conductor for the constant electrical energy generated by Piers’ mutation. It includes specialized channels and circuits designed to manage this energy flow, allowing Piers to use his mutation’s electrical pulse without it spiraling out of control.

•Dielectric Structures: The arm’s design incorporates materials that mimic the dielectric properties of his mutated tissue, particularly in the finger joints and bones. These dielectric components help regulate and contain the high voltage his body produces, diffusing excess energy safely throughout the arm.

•Controlled Release Mechanism: To avoid overload, the arm features a controlled release system that allows Piers to release pulses of energy strategically, whether in combat or to alleviate the internal buildup. This system prevents the arm from overheating or sustaining damage from prolonged electrical activity.

Containment and Compression of the Mutation

•Compression Framework: The prosthetic was specially designed by UMBRELLA engineers to act as a containment “net” around his mutation. It includes a flexible, reinforced framework that compresses the mutated tissue, keeping it in check and preventing further growth or erratic shifts in form.

•Adaptive Pressure System: As the mutation strains against the arm, sensors detect any changes in size or energy output, triggering adaptive responses. The arm tightens or loosens as necessary to hold the mutation back, functioning almost like a high-tech brace that adjusts in real-time to maintain Piers’ arm in a stable form.

•Automatic Safety Lock: In the event of a significant spike in mutation activity or electrical output, the arm engages an emergency lock to keep the mutation from expanding. This feature is a safeguard against sudden bursts of energy that could cause the arm to revert to its mutated state.

Dependency and Risks of Removal

•Rapid Mutation Onset: Without the prosthetic in place, Piers’ arm begins to mutate almost immediately, returning to its original, unstable form. The electrical pulse that his body generates becomes unrestrained, emitting a continuous, breath-like rhythm that is both painful and dangerous, with energy leaking through protruding bones and exposed tissue.

•Uncontrollable Pulse: When uncontained, the electrical pulse from his mutation surges in intensity, lacking any natural “closure” or stopping point. This pulse causes rapid fluctuations in his vital signs and risks systemic overload, leading to loss of control over his mutation and putting him at severe physical risk.

Miscellaneous Details

•The arm has a unique serial code engraved on an inner plate, serving as an identifier for UMBRELLA technicians. This code also links to Piers’ personal health records, mutation data, and arm specifications for quick access during maintenance or in emergencies.

•Due to the intense electrical pulses generated by his mutation, the arm is equipped with an internal cooling system. Micro-fans and heat-dissipating channels prevent overheating during extended use, keeping the arm at a safe, comfortable temperature. If the arm overheats, an internal alarm alerts Piers to prevent any potential damage.

•The outer layer is treated with a UV-resistant coating to protect it from environmental damage and exposure. This ensures that prolonged exposure to sunlight or harsh conditions doesn’t wear down the arm’s exterior, making it more durable in diverse climates and situations.

•Designed for various operational environments, the arm is fully waterproof and corrosion-resistant. It functions normally underwater, which is crucial for aquatic missions or when exposed to rain, mud, or corrosive substances.

•The holographic display can be customized to show additional details, such as weather, GPS navigation, or tactical maps. Piers can also set personal preferences, like color schemes or alert tones, for a more intuitive user experience. This flexibility lets him prioritize the information he finds most critical during missions.

•The communicator has an onboard language translator, enabling Piers to communicate with individuals across different languages. The arm’s display shows translated text, and a subtle earpiece can even relay audio translations, making it easier for him to gather intel and negotiate in multilingual environments.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Random mechanics idea: The problem with mechanics like weapon durability, encumbrance, supplies, lighting etc. is that they add a lot of busywork only to make the game more unpleasant to play. If we want to include these type of systems in our games, we're going to need to figure out a spoon full of sugar to help the mechanical medicine go down, and I think a large part of that is giving the party toys we can take away when needed, rather than imposing unnecessary restrictions.

A computer can easily handle an infinite amount of gruntwork behind the scenes but there's a reason that every system introduced with the intent of artificially creating "challenge" or "realism" is thought up by dms who spend a lot more time theorycrafting on forums than they do telling enjoyable stories: Trying to implement these sort of systems at the table effectively forces the party to stop any fun they might be having to do boardgame taxes...which really makes sense when you learn that Gygax worked in insurance around the time he was dreaming up d&d.

I put this all together after spending a whole evening scouring the internet for a worthwhile weapon durability system. None of them were actually FUN or story enhancing, instead asking players to do varying amounts of busy work (sometimes counting dozens of interaction and adding three or extra dice rolls per weapon swing) to hold with a DM's desire for arbitrary complexity.

Returning to the idea of giving fun benefits rather than messing with fundamentals, I've seem far too many attempts at a "blood magic" system that makes casters have to spend HP to do their basic spells, when really the exact same could be accomplished by allowing the player to earn a boon that gives them their con bonus in bonus spellslots that could be used to upcast their spells.

The same goes for durability: rather than having to create an umbrella mechanic that applies to every weapon ever, slowing down EVERY swing, make it something that the fighter manages on their own, learning to keep their weapon in tip-top shape by spending a precious hitdie during a short rest to grant their weapon an additional damage die (which goes away if they roll a nat 1), and letting players and monsters break weapons as part of a combat action.

The opt in nature is essential here, because it rewards players who want more mechanical complexity without slowing down the whole game.

Now the question is if I can figure out a way to make the ever cumbersome encumbrance rules actually fun to play with.

[tneumbrella7]

windproof-and-durable-for-kids-umbrella

[pinknipszz]

golden girl

↷ ˊ- neteyam/metkayina reader | (i.), (ii.), (iii.), (iv.)

“cause i have walked a thousand miles for the golden girl, golden smile.”

neteyam had finished the spearhead in a matter of days. after having secured the carved bone to the end of a sturdy pole, he tried its durability against some fish, but not without whispering a few prayers beforehand. his arms had grown taut from the strain, and neteyam feels sorry for leaving you worried, even when he had apologized that he’d be missing another day’s lessons for reasons so futile.

but you, oh so beautiful you, had placed a gentle hand on his chest that spoke a thousand reassurances. the skin underneath your palm rejoiced at the contact, buzzing with delight. neteyam couldn’t even begin to recall what you had really said to him. but if you asked what beads were in your hair or what your eyes remind him of, he’d have an answer. he’d say it like gospel truth. 

after you had left, he returned to the spear. he was still a warrior at heart. 

neteyam remembers how the weight of it felt strange in one hand, and how he didn’t quite know what to do with the other. if you had been there that day to watch him, hunting fish with an aim that wouldn’t even impress a baby, you would have called him out on his tense shoulders or unsure feet. it just felt awkward, unfamiliar. his stance, his spear, the sea. but he didn’t want to call it wrong.

sure the smooth stone was too heavy for an arrow and too thin for a spear, but he would never call it wrong, a freak of nature. maybe he would have in the past, but now he knew what it really was: a little like him. carved for the forest before he changed its purpose. now the weapon was neither arrow nor spear. neither land nor sea. it lays tucked away in his family’s marui, collecting dust and dreams he dared not speak.

visiting the tidepools became a pastime, just as you predicted. it had not even been several days since neteyam last asked you to accompany him, but you didn’t mind. it made up for his recent absences. while you do adore his siblings and treat them like your own, you admit that there’s a charm in the eldest that simply could not be replicated. so when he had asked you one morning, your heart jumped eagerly.

you felt guilty the more you realized the reality of the situation. you joined the group for tuk out of the goodness in your heart, and now you yearned for her older brother. it made your stomach churn, yet a quiet, selfish part of you wondered what it would be like to stand by neteyam’s side, to call his family your own, and to have his child. you wanted a hand to slap you across the face, hard, for such thoughts. 

the sun peeked through the overgrown palms as you and neteyam followed the familiar path to the pools. it didn’t take much convincing from your parents, much less his own, as if they could see something far beyond the line of friendship. growing and taking shape. the thought left you stubborn, willing to deny and fight for your pride, but you knew that it’d be for naught. neteyam captivated you beyond recognition.

you grew shy of his advances too, if you could even call them that. his silly attempts at conversation, the looks he gave you from afar, even now, with his hand entwined in yours, as he led you to the spot. they fell under an umbrella without a label, or on a blurred line between friends and something more. you bit the inside of your cheek until it drew blood, nervously savoring its copper.

“there will be more fish today.” neteyam said almost to himself, his eyes trained forward. “the waves were high last night with fish of all sorts of colors. you will like them.” you’re not sure if that’s how it works, but you didn’t comment on it.

“then we’ll bring fish for your family.” you squeezed his hand, committing his rough calluses to memory. warm. so warm. “you’re siblings are doing much better now. i wish you had been there to see it.” you remember how lo’ak had finally beat his record of twelve minutes with a commendable sixteen. truly a magnificent feat considering it had only been a few months worth of progress.

tsireya had been the first to congratulate him, all sunshine and smiles. kiri and tuk joined right after. you were fourth, and ao’nung the reluctant fifth. the metkayina trio had decided to end the lessons on a high note by dedicating the rest of the day to “unsupervised” ilu riding. truly, lo’ak had grown spoiled. but there was the unmistakable glint of disappointment in his eyes at how neteyam had not been there to see it.

his steps slowed as if to absorb your words properly, before turning to you with a strange expression. “is that how you feel? if you had asked me to stay, i would have.” neteyam said so easily, his voice light and borderline teasing. how cheeky! you looked away first, unable to maintain eye contact for too long. 

the sea smelled stronger here at the edge of the mangroves, numbing your senses. you could only imagine how neteyam felt. the pools were closer too, and oddly enough, he had been right. the pools were higher, deeper, fuller. they reminded you of what you suggested prior. fish for his family.

“did you bring your spear with you?” you asked.

neteyam shook his head, shrugging. “left it at home.” home. you didn’t catch his slip.

he let go of your hand so you can jump off the rocks. then, he followed suit. neteyam memorized it by now, the patterns in the rock. where to step, to pause, to turn. how one had more algae than the other. he doubts he’ll ever get over the feeling of wet algae though. it nearly left him nauseous, but he won’t tell you that. “then how do you suppose we catch fish?i thought you were a hunter.” you huffed.

“a warrior,” he corrected.

“is there a difference?” 

surprised with your sudden curiosity, neteyam thought for a moment. truthfully, there wasn’t much of a difference when both hunters and warriors fought to survive. most times he felt like one or the other, other times neither. “somewhat,” he decided, choosing his next words carefully. “one hunts, the other kills. unless you plan to eat your enemies, then you could be both.” your face scrunched in disgust and you punched his shoulder.

chuckling, neteyam reached down to splash water in your direction. “i’m glad you can call yourself a hunter,” he continued. “i don’t want war to touch this place.” fish darted to and fro, and plants waved their tendrils at you. when his eyes grew distant, focusing on violent memories, you watched him quietly. never had the differences between you two been so clear, like the waters of your home. 

you were a hunter, he was a fighter. you hunted with intent to feed, he fought with weapons to kill. the cycle of life and death, just as the great mother had embedded in your psyche. like natural law. it was just as strange how two na’vi of two clans could stand so close together, so strongly juxtaposed. sometimes you wondered if this was wrong, or simply one of the many unexplainable things that ewya had intended. 

but how could you ever call it simple? even when his shade of blue was so different from yours, and how arms and legs and tail were so much thinner, you swore nothing has ever looked, felt, so right. “did you hunt in the forest?” you asked.

“often.” neteyam looked at you, so much lighter than he ever has before, at the mention of his first home falling from your pretty lips. two of the things he loves most entwined together. he fought the urge to kiss you, to feel the forest and the sea at once. “the first thing i caught was a fish.” 

“you and i aren’t so different then.” you grinned.

neteyam finally felt that, after all this time, the move had been worth it. he promises to bring the spear next time.

(masterlist)

[three-dee-ess]

hiii! uuh two questions - is the charms hole really...for that? lol. i thought it was for wrist straps so i put in it the only one i could find (one from a foldable umbrella) with mixed results but i feel safer than without. now that i see people refer to it as a charms hole im worried its gonna bend or something

also also, is the dpad on the n3dsll durable? ive been snaking in mkds a hell of a lot the past week trying to beat a staff ghost and myself in time trials so it might be just my imagination but it feels a bit rattly. not detached from its base, but like it moves around more with light prods

It is actually for wrist straps officially, but most people call it the charms hole. Nintendo has produced official wrist straps for the DS/3DS multiple times! It is a wrist strap hole. I've never heard of a 3DS charm hole breaking before, if that helps. And yes, the Dpad does wear a bit over time, but even new 3DS's have rattly Dpads. This is true across all DS models. It helps it from getting stuck in one position! I like it personally, but if you aren't used to it or didn't notice it before I could understand how it would be offputting.