#tw: storm

[meganlpie]

Momma Meg, I heard about everything in NC and the rest of the south east. I really hope you're okay! You haven't been very active and I don't even know if you'll see this but I really hope you're okay.

Hi, lovely! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to worry anyone. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would remember I live in this part of the world. My family and I are okay. We are much further east than those most affected by the storm.

Hubby and I are trying to figure out the best ways to help those affected.

[cosmic-ships]

CAN IT PLEASE STOP FUCKING STORMING ALREADY I CANNOT TAKE IT.

[penandswords]

/updates/

So, Cell service has returned, and it's looking strong.

I still have no power, but a friend in the same area as me has their power flicker back on for an hour 🤷‍♀️ then lost it again.

So there is progress. The estimation is between tomorrow or Friday.

The biggest danger from the hurricane is over, and I am safe. And I have Cell signal again woo. No more silence. I can talk to people again *weeps*

I will be on the dash lurking, and in dms.

Threads are on hold until the power comes back!

I can rp via discord tho.

And I will most likely come annoy some inboxes/

[allaganeyed]

As G’raha trekked the unbeaten path, he marveled the burgeoning prunus trees blushing at its boughs. The ashy bark remained disconcerted despite its shuddering, creaking limbs. The swaggering and boisterous cumulonimbus clouds taunted the land with its blistering, early spring winds.

Closer he approached to admire nature’s bounty when the pressure surrounding him seized his muscles. He winced, clenching his teeth in preparation for a violent, hurdling wind to topple his balance. Although, the clouds were vain as they were innocent. A far more nefarious storm brewed at lakeshore. G’raha’s gaze traced source, assuming the life force staled from corrupt touch only to find an irrevocably large being beneath the shy, maturing trees.

“P-Pray forgive my intrusion,” he spoke with a falsified calm tone. G’raha stood unwavering in his stance despite the inborn predatory fear that prickled his skin. He swallowed, shifted his toes in near sudden retreat, but held his ground. He released a careful breath, “A storm is nigh, though the perennials are unfazed. For all their delicate appearance they are without lies, and speak true to their circumstances.” G’raha’s tail lowered and it took all his energy to refuse to tuck it between his legs.

“The living cannot help but tremble in monstrous awe, however.” He wished he spoke of the trees… and he wished he learned to quell his ramblings when nervousness ran rampant.

@bimeval

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Save Me From The Storm: Part One/? - A Hypothermia Miniseries

*I want to make OCs specific to this miniseries, as none of my current OCs really fit these tropes the way I want them to. In a follow-up, I'll give them names with a key at the beginning including names & pronouns*

Whumpee frowned as the gray sky let a stray snowflake land on their face. They'd spent most of the morning out here in the woods, looking for that stupid bird's nest. A had wanted Whumpee to mark its location with flagging tape for them so they could find it again for surveys, as the last time they were out in the woods, A had gotten lost, and Caretaker had needed to send out a search party to find them.

Though as Whumpee looked around the forest, they couldn't blame them. This part of the woods was nearly impossible to navigate, and with the lack of sunlight, it was difficult to see which path led where.

Whumpee shook their head. This was getting pointless. The sky smelt like a storm, and they weren't one to ignore their instincts. They started making their way back towards the entrance of the forest.

They barely had time to scream as their ankle connected with the gnarled root, sending them sprawling to the ground. Their head collided with a small rock, the impact sending them reeling.

They blinked slowly, grimacing as they pressed a hand to their head. Their fingers came away bloody, and they winced at the flash of pain. Whumpee sat upright, struggling to stand. The moment they put weight on their ankle, they cursed filthily. They definitely sprained it, and they wouldn't be surprised if they did a number on their head too.

Using a nearby tree to help them up, they struggled to reorient themself. Which way had they come in again?

As the snow began to dust the forest floor, Whumpee found themself limping at an agonizing pace, occasionally calling out for Caretaker as their blood stained the white snow red.

***

A burst into Caretaker's room, eyes blown wide. "A, what is it?"

"I sent Whumpee our looking for that nest for me this morning, and they haven't come back yet."

Caretaker's heart skipped a beat as they looked to the blizzard outside. They grabbed their coat and made their way to the door. "Come on, A, let's go find them."

'Hang in there, Whumpee. I'll be there soon.'

[lunarninja613]

Where I Belong (Modern Bad Batch AU) Chapter Six

Credit to @alligatorpie1945 and @kaydear.

Author's Note: The cots that Omega and Umber used to sleep in have been replaced with beds now that they are permanently staying with their brothers.

Warnings: trauma, panic attack, storms, flashbacks, past abuse, angst with a fluffy ending, I feel like Crosshair might be a bit out of character

Words: 1466

Umber sat alone in her bedroom, looking out the window at the stormy night sky. The string lights that Wrecker had put up when Omega and Umber first arrived were the only source of light in the room.

The moon and the stars were blocked out by the large dark clouds that filled the night sky. The room was filled with the sound of rain hammering against the roof and windows, along with the occasional clap of thunder. Droplets of rain trickled down the window as lightning flashed across the dark cloudy sky. It was interesting how something could seem so soothing, yet so violent at the same time.

The strange serenity did not last long however, as the string lights began flickering on and off, threatening to plunge the room into darkness.

Umber stared at the lights, as if that would somehow keep them from going out. Her efforts were in vain though, as a large bolt of lightning lit up the cloudy night sky before the room was consumed by darkness.

Umber could feel her heart race as she sat alone in the dark, a scenario that she was all too familiar with. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the memories that came flooding back. Memories of her mother dragging her by the arm after she had either failed to complete a task or had stepped out of line. Memories of being thrown into a dark, empty room that was locked from the outside before being left to cry alone in the dark, screaming for someone to let her out. She could still picture the scratch marks on the door and the tallies that were engraved on the walls.

Umber didn’t know how many times she had been locked up in that horrid room, or for how long she would be trapped in there, but she knew for certain that she both feared and hated that room. Now it felt like she was back in that pitch black room all over again.

Umber scrambled backwards, her back hitting the wall with a loud thud. She felt knots begin forming in her stomach as her breathing quickened. She couldn’t think straight anymore, and the sounds of thunder and rain were being drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

The once violent storm outside now seemed like a slight drizzle compared to the raging hurricane that Umber felt inside.

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

Crosshair lay sprawled out on the couch in the living room as he scrolled through his phone. He should’ve been at work, but his boss had practically forced him to take time off. He’d been spending a lot of time at work over the past three weeks, which now that he thought about it, was probably the reason that his boss had so strongly insisted that he take some time off.

And since he had time off of work, he had been tasked with babysitting Umber while his brothers and Omega ran some errands. He wasn’t entirely sure what those errands were though. Both Hunter and Echo had told him, but he hadn’t paid much attention to what they had been saying at the time.

Babysitting Umber was easy enough though. She was still distant, but not because she was scared of Crosshair and his brothers, rather she was just unsure how to approach them. He understood that. Having been raised in a lab with only his brothers for company, Crosshair hadn’t left Nala Se’s care with the best social skills either. Even as an adult he was still terrible at interacting with other people.

Just then, the living room lights began flickering before shutting off, along with all the other lights in the house.

“Great, a blackout. Just what I needed.” Crosshair groaned as he got up from the couch.

He turned his phone’s flashlight on and was about to check the electrical box, when he heard a loud thud coming from upstairs. He turned and shone his light up the stairs, but there was no one there. Crosshair then slowly made his way up the stairs and down the hall, checking all of the rooms for whatever had caused the noise.

He eventually reached Omega and Umber’s room at the end of the hallway. Crosshair slowly opened the door and shone the light around the room. As Crosshair scanned the room, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

He shone the light on where he had seen the movement, and saw Umber sitting on her bed, backed up against the wall, her body was shaking, and her breathing was frantic. Crosshair immediately understood what was happening, having gone through many panic attacks himself, as well as helping his brothers through some too. But he didn’t know anything about kids. Plus, he had been trying to avoid this particular child for three weeks!

He thought about calling Hunter or Echo, get one of them to try and calm the kid down over the phone. He even thought of walking away in hopes that Umber would figure it out herself, because looking at her made Crosshair feel like he was looking at a younger version of himself. He kind of hated how similar he and Umber were.

Crosshair wasn’t sure how long he had been standing in the doorway before he heard Umber’s quiet whimpers mixed in with her frantic breathing. He also wasn’t sure what had come over him as he found himself carefully making his way over to Umber’s bed.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, keeping his distance so as not to overwhelm the panicked ten year old.

“Hey, kid, look at me. I need you to breathe with me, okay?” Crosshair asked, his voice stern, but also surprisingly gentle.

Umber’s head shot up and Crosshair could see the tears in her eyes.

“Kid, I need you to breathe with me.” Crosshair repeated in the same stern, yet gentle tone.

He began taking slow, steady breaths, in and out, eventually, getting Umber to do the same until she was breathing normally again, albeit a bit shakily.

“Yeah, there you go. Good girl.” Crosshair said.

The storm outside seemed to have calmed down as well, and the moon was able to peek through the clouds and shine through the bedroom window. The room was silent, save for Umber’s sniffling as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Crosshair got up and grabbed a half-empty packet of kleenex from Omega’s nightstand and handed it to Umber. After she blew her nose, Crosshair took the used kleenex and threw it in a small, teal trash bin that sat in the corner of the room.

Crosshair sat awkwardly at the edge of the bed, wondering what he was supposed to do next. For a moment, he considered asking Umber what had happened, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to risk triggering another panic attack. Crosshair thought about leaving and going back downstairs, maybe he could try to pretend like nothing had happened.

Those thoughts were dashed though, when he saw Umber staring up at him with her large amber eyes, a look of yearning written across her face.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Crosshair asked, trying not to sound as uncertain as he felt.

Umber lowered her head a bit and nodded shyly in response, which made Crosshair feel a little less awkward about his next question.

“Is it okay if I stay in the bed with you?” he asked, earning a confused look from Umber. “I don’t want to get a sore back from sleeping on the floor.” he explained.

Umber pondered his words for a moment before nodding her head. Crosshair shifted so that he was lying down on the bed, and once he had gotten comfortable, he motioned for Umber to lie down. He was a bit surprised when Umber laid down and nestled up against him.

The room was silent now that the rain had ceased. The moon poked through the clouds and shone through the bedroom window, the trees outside and the remaining raindrops on the window casting shadows on the floor. Everything just felt so calm and peaceful at that moment.

And just as Crosshair felt himself drifting off to sleep, he heard Umber’s quiet, sleepy whisper break the silence.

“Thank you, Crosshair.”

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

Hunter couldn’t help but smile when he came home late that night to find Crosshair sleeping in the twins’ room with Umber, who was fast asleep in his arms.

“Okay, that’s adorable,” Echo whispered, a fond smile plastered on his face, “Tech, please tell me you’re taking pictures.” he added, turning to look at Tech, who had his phone pointed at their peaceful looking siblings.

With an identical smile, Tech replied, “Obviously.”

[andrew-garfielld]

STORM wielding Mjolnir as The Goddess of Thunder in ‘WHAT IF…?’ SEASON 3 Official Trailer

[galacii-gallery]

The man who carries a storm.

[homoeroticgrappling]

This is everything I could've ever dreamed of

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital illustration of Orym and Dorian Storm from Critical Role. Orym is dressed as Needy Lesnicki and Dorian is dressed as Jennifer Check from Jennifer's body. Orym is wearing low jeans, a crop top, and hoodie, and Dorian is wearing low jeans, pink heart earrings, a cropped pink hoodie with a red heart pattern, and fake blood around his mouth. There are two drawings of Dorian and Orym, in the one on the left they're holding hands and looking towards each other. In the drawing on the right Dorian is holding Orym and has his head next to Orym's neck. He's looking at Orym and asking "Are you scared?". Orym is smiling and responding "Dor, you're getting the fake blood on me". End description.]

Dressed up for Halloween 🩷

[nochiquinn]

x-men 97 text posts

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[allelitewrestlings]

[mjfass]

"I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me"

[grabyoursaintsandpray]

Power showcase

X-Men '97

Season 1 Episode 1: To me, my X-Men

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Save Me From the Storm: Part Two/?

First Part: https://www.tumblr.com/in-love-with-writing-whump/714902078107041792/save-me-from-the-storm-part-one-a-hypothermia?source=share As promised, a guide to the characters Whumpee = Corvina, she/her, a small, pale woman with dark hair, a stoic “right hand” type (who definitely has some past *traumas* that have resulted in her stoicism) Caretaker = Atonia “Toni,” she/her, a tall, strong woman with red hair, a brave and kind leader type (who craves to be able to help/protect people) A = Robin, they/them, a somewhat clumsy person with brown hair, a nature-loving, sciency-type (who often gets into trouble as a result of their curiousity) Corvina is in love with Toni, and Toni is in love with Corvina, but they haven’t told each other yet. Robin is their biggest shipper (she calls them Corvoni). These OCs currently just exist in this little whump miniseries, but that can always change. Atonia struggled to see through the whirlwind of snow, cursing as snowflakes clumped together on her eyelashes. Robin called out for Corvina, but Atonia had stopped a while ago. She was fairly certain that Corvina, strong-willed as she was, would’ve yelled back by now if she could.  If she could... That thought sent a chill down Atonia’s spine. Atonia barely had time to curse as her foot ran into something, sending her sprawling forward. Thankfully, Robin grabbed her shoulder before she could make a fool of herself. “Thanks,” she said, pushing a hair from her face.  They nodded, snow clumping in their maple locks. They scanned the forest floor, their eyes blowing wide. “Toni, look!” Atonia looked down and swore. A pale hand stuck out in the snowdrift. She crouched down, pushing the light, fluffy snow off of the person. Blood soaked into the ivory, blue-tinged lips parted, revealing a small puff of air. Atonia pushed the dark hair to the side, revealing Corvina’s face, a single tear frozen to her cheek. Robin took the blanket they’d grabbed on the way out the door and wrapped it around Corvina’s small frame. Atonia clenched her jaw, wrapping her arms under Corvina’s knees and behind her shoulders. She picked her up, unsettled by how little she seemed to weigh.  Robin, who had flagged the way to Corvina in neon tape, lead the way back, apologizing profusely to the unconscious woman in Atonia’s arms. They burst inside the warm building. “Toni, I’ll get the medical kit!” “I’ll take her to my room, meet me there!” Sorry, I know this is short, but I’ve been super duper busy lately. I’ll post a part three soon!