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card-queen · 18 days

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Writer Interview game

Tagged by @dithorba over here!

When did you start writing? - I can't really remember a time when I wasn't reading, writing or drawing. I remember a bit step for me was writing out the introduction for my Inazuma Eleven fan team. I had fun putting together the team's origin and making sure everyone got a spot. But I as for writing in earnest and wanting to/believing I could make something of it, that was only in the last few years after lots and lots of reading & studying.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write? - I love spy fiction and horror that plays mind games. I like stories about messed up people that figure things out in the end. Most of all, I think, I like the heroes that persevere through it all and despite everything, the best part of them is still in tact.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often? - I don't think so. I don't think anyone compares my writing or style to anyone else and I don't want to be like anyone else. I really just want to be me the whole way through.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? - Noise-cancelling headphones and access to my playlists of hand-picked tracked, mainly from video games, that put me in the zone to write that kind of scene. I've got folders for scenes of wonder, anguish, tension, action, battles, etc. It helps me be in the moment and they're usually from games that captured that moment so well, so it helps!

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse? - Reading/watching bad things. Even video essays on things I don't like. Something about being really annoyed when you're reading something that goes off a cliff or seeing the faults of a project being laid out really gets my mind going. The worst feeling something can give me is apathy.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you? - Let's see... I kinda noticed a pattern of messed up siblings who are vehemently opposed but totally in-sync, to the confusion of everyone else. There is often a theme of twisted love, where it skews into obsession, overprotection or other stuff that is no longer love. Different (plausible) perspectives to events that shape peoples' views. It's all a bit vague but I'm sure some big-brain out there could spot a whole bunch of thematic similarities in what I do!

What is your reason for writing? - Because no one else is doing what I want to see!!! I want MY brand of fantasy, MY style of mystery and I'm not getting it anywhere else so I might as well!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? - My reliance on analysis. That sounds weird but hear me out! I am not smart, not by a long shot and I am not an analytical person at all!

BUT... I have learned to take things apart and understand the inner workings of them. A character who experiences X would behave in Y way and so to get more oomph out of their scenes, we sprinkle in some Z or pair them up with A. Because I break things down to such a ridiculous degree, I can better write their dialogue, understand motivations, plot out twists and schemes, and time it all just right!

I am also... terminally obsessed with making timelines for my events. Be it year-by-year or hour-by-hour. I will NOT be caught unawares by time paradoxes!!!

How do you feel about your own writing? - Some days, I feel good and some days I feel bad. Whenever I feel bad, I end up reading what I've written and then I feel good again! I cater to my own wants as a reader, which makes me doubt if there's widespread appeal at times but... I'm not making it with widespread appeal in mind. That kind of thinking makes paint-by-numbers, safe, approved by committee stuff that I don't care for. I'm carving my own path that does interest me, and maybe it interests some others too. By make no mistake: I like my writing because I am my own #1 fan.

Time to find some victims... Tagging @noisette-tornade, @vellatra, @reneethegreatandpowerful, @albicantknight, @merwetketet aaand anyone else that sees this and writes. Honestly, if you see this and don't join in, I will hunt you for sport. Be brave!

#writeblr #ask game #writer interview

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serial-designation-jey · 3 months

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I’ve been summoned.

So how do tornadoes usually form?

@chaotically-coz

HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEH

tornados are usually formed when an updraft or hold air hits a downdraft of moist and warm air, usually from the equator, due to north americas positioning and geographic distribution (plains) being perfectly centered in the section where the two temperatures of air clash. When they clash, a formation called “a jetstream” will form. However the cell/supercell forming all comes down to CAPE values, ill get to that in a second. Jetstreams are quick moving air streams, think of a current in the ocean. CAPE values determine the stability of the environment/sky. The higher the CAPE the more likely a storm forms. For a significant and tornadic storm to form, CAPE values must be 3000+. Now, how do tornados form? When another (much smaller) bout of warm and cold air they clash together creating one or two mesocyclones, mesocyclones are also called wall clouds. One cyclone will be cyclonic, moving with the direction of the magnetic poles, while the other will be anticyclonic, those are rare and rarely reach higher than EF1 of the Enhanced Fujita scale. If the mesocylone is unstable enough, it will begin to rotate as a tube of precipitation reaches to the ground, that is a tornado. Tornados arent always pronounced shapes, they can be invisible. Keep tour eyes on the ground for a debris cloud.

#sd jey mod speaks #sd jey blog #Tornado #RAAAAAAAA

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lionpars · 30 days

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𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( @wranglens asked: ❛ the storm’s getting worse . ❜ )

The constant rumbling of thunder following lightning and the way the wind seemed to keep picking up and shifting direction spelled out exactly what Tyler was saying. It was a sudden storm that nobody was really expecting, such is life in one of the areas that see the most tornadic activity. Gaze shifts from ominous clouds to instead meet Tyler's. ❝ yeah I see that. Looks like this one is gonna be big one. ❞ Looks like the self proclaimed professional Tornado Wrangler was going to get to go well, wrangle a tornado more than likely with how nasty this storm seemed to be getting ( or rather the tornado might come and try and wrangle him up instead given how the storm seemed to be right on top of this area right this very moment ).

❝ Alright Mr. professional tornado wrangler, what's your call on this ? ❞ Usually he'd go to Kate about this but, she wasn't back from New York yet as she was working to get everything squared away for her return back fully and so he somehow found himself in the orbit of all the tornado wranglers ( not that they were a bad group at all to be around because they kept things lively for sure ).

#wranglens #// god i hope any of this makes sense it just felt right in my head tbh ???#// but javi is so much here lmao mr professional tornado wrangler you know he's being a shit here #// but it's so funny :')

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bewitchingbooktours · 1 year

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Prophecy of Gods and Crows by C.D. Britt #Fantasy #Dystopian #CelticMythology

Prophecy of Gods and Crows

Clan of Shadows Series

Book One

C.D. Britt

Genre: Fantasy/ Dystopian/ Celtic Mythology

Publisher: C.D. Britt

Date of Publication: 06/06/2023

ISBN: 978-1-7372652-8-3

ASIN: B0BRDHTFZX

Number of pages: 362

Word Count: 98,220

Cover Artist: GermanCreative

Tagline: Bryndis Kenneally is an anomaly, which is saying something when you live in a place once called Hell.

Book Description:

Welcome to Ifreann.... once known as Hell's Gate.

Bryndis Kenneally is an anomaly, which is saying something when you live in a place once called Hell.

Despite being born into a family of healers, she is unable to follow in their footsteps since disturbing visions overwhelm her with almost every human touch.

With few allies at her back, she keeps her head down… until a freak sandstorm brings more than she bargained for—a man of shadows who seeks retribution, a crow that follows her everywhere, and two strangers who appear inside the locked gates of Ifreann.

Two strangers with a message for Bryndis and her friends.

But will these strangers be her end? Or will they be her salvation?

Either way, she knows one thing is for certain.

She can no longer pretend to be a normal woman among a town looking for witches to burn.

Book one in the Clan of Shadows series, a dystopian Celtic mythology paranormal (slow burn) romance series. It has elements of cli-fi and quiet a few morally gray characters.

TW: religious trauma, sexual content, abuse (past and present by family member), scenes of war

Book Trailer:

https://www.tiktok.com/@cdbrittauthor/video/7226769276424703275

Available at Amazon

https://amzn.to/3IdvI8U

Excerpt

Bryn swayed her body to the last of the music, the night ending slowly as people stumbled and laughed after having allowed themselves the pleasure of being human one night of the year.

Soon enough, only the light of the torches were left aside from the fires that burned only once a year along the street. The shadows took over the celebration as they danced along the buildings.

The feeling in her gut, the warning, grew at a rapid rate and she found herself standing and looking around.

“What’s wrong?” Niamh asked, standing as well, looking for a threat.

“I’m not sure. I’ve had this bad feeling…” Bryn whispered as her system flooded with adrenaline.

The warning horns split open the joyous atmosphere of the night like a knife. The screams of the people matching the horns as they ran from the streets to take cover from the unknown danger.

Bryn and Niamh both turned as one toward the gate as small dust devils made their way along the street, trailing the panicked townspeople as they ran, shoving at each other like wild, mindless animals.

“Sandstorm,” Niamh whispered, her eyes focused on something past the gates. Words in another language Bryn had never heard soon left Niamh’s lips.

In her own panicked state, Bryn tried to calm her nerves, debating on if she could make it back to her apartment or if she needed to take cover with Niamh. The fact that Niamh was in a trance, staring intensely at the gate, made her hand twitch with the urge to slap Niamh out of it. “Sandstorm!” Justin yelled as he ran down the road toward them. “Get inside and take cover!”

They’d never had a sandstorm bad enough to cause such panic before. The walls usually took the brunt of the weather for them.

“Now!” Justin was suddenly in her face, shoving at her shoulder and pushing her and Niamh into The Sanctuary. A horrifying cloud of red dust enveloped the town right as Justin slammed the door shut behind them. The entire road engulfed in tornadic sand was the last visual she had of Saint’s road.

“Away from the windows!” He herded them to an inner room in The Sanctuary, yelling for the others in brothel to do the same. Bryn didn’t look to see what men from town were here.

She didn’t want that on her conscience and since she was a horrible poker player, she didn’t want to pretend in public when she watched them walking with their families to church service before she turned in for the day.

Settling down in one of the supply rooms, Bryn put her head to her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs. Focusing on her breathing and not the glass breaking, Bryn worked to calm her heart rate, trying to ignore the sobs of the other women in the dark room as the glass broke and the wind howled.

Finian whined, having moved back to Justin’s side.

The only light was from the cracked door Justin looked through, flinching every once in a while as he watched the storm bear down on their little town.

“Calm yourselves. Your yelling isn’t going to change the course of this storm,” Niamh chided, her voice barely audible over the furniture breaking outside of their little room. Bryn was surprised by the calmness in Niamh’s voice as her business was being torn apart. Her whole life was in The Sanctuary.

A tingling started in her fingers and toes, as well as the all too familiar feeling of ants under her skin. Bryn rubbed along her arms at the same time as Justin, their movements mirroring each other.

Looking to Niamh, her eyes focused on the wall as if she could see through it, as if her focus could stop the destruction, Bryn patted the woman on the shoulder before she pulled back.

Her skin was growing more sensitive and the anxiety building up inside her was becoming a raging inferno.

“I am here, come to me, my child,” Bryn heard the whispered words, and looked for who was speaking. No one else looked around for the voice, as if they hadn’t heard it.

Bryn was sure her heart stopped. Was this a vision? It didn’t feel like one.

When Justin looked at her, his eyes confused, she realized it wasn’t just her who had heard the whispered plea.

The distraction of Justin kept her from noticing one of the men in the room sitting too close to her, his fingers brushing hers and she knew before it happened she was going into a vision.

Feeling it come upon her, she scooted away from him, further into the corner of the room right as the black stole over her vision.

About the Author:

C.D. Britt began her writing journey when her husband told her she needed to use her excessive imagination to write stories as opposed to creating a daily narrative for him. Ever since she penned her first words, life has been a lot more peaceful for him.

She currently resides in Texas where she has yet to adapt to the heat. Her husband thrives in it, so unfortunately, they will not be relocating to colder climates anytime soon.

Their two young children would honestly complain either way.

When she is not in her writing cave (hiding from the sun), she enjoys ignoring the world as much as her children will allow with a good book, music, and vast amounts of coffee (until it’s time for wine).

C.D. Britt is the author of the Reign of Goddesses series and Prophecy of Gods and Crows (coming 6/6/23).

Website: https://authorcdbritt.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrittAuthor

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcdbritt

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorcdbritt/

Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/authorcdbritt

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/C.D.-Britt/author/B095PWMBYH

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21592919.C_D_Britt

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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fellpyrean · 2 years

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Advent Statement 2 - Storm Chaser

Two things before this one: 1) I love it to bits. It’s very, very personal in how I grew up and viewed tornadic storms and absolutely pulls a lot from my youth. I think I talk the most in the notes on this one, because! 2) this one is still on ao3! Check it out, if you would!

But if you’d prefer to read here, then let’s begin our second statement: Storm Chaser. cws: just canon-typical Vast, honestly.

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Have you ever seen a thunderstorm?

I don't mean the little ones; the ones where you'll see a single flash of lightning if you're lucky, and the thunder may as well be a small dog growling for how loud it is.

Not those ones.

The real ones.

The ones where the clouds blot out the sun and are lit entirely from within - enormous, pitch dark and heavy, glowing with purple-white snaps of light, with brilliant, blinding forests of lightning sprouting, branching across the dome of the sky and the thunder comes loud enough to rattle your teeth, rumbling like a leviathan.

Those are the thunderstorms I mean.

The ones that span for miles and miles. As far as you can see, the sky's forest shattering and cracking above you and shaking the world in its wake. Nothing else will make you feel smaller. More aware of your own insignificance as clouds larger than cities roil above you and lightning dances from one end of the horizon to the next.

I don't think there's anything more beautiful. More awe-inspiring.

I saw quite a few of them growing up, you see. We moved to the Midwest when I was very young, to a house in a neighborhood a quick exit away from the highway. I can tell you it ran to the northeast; we joked they simply paved over the path a tornado left in its wake, because every summer, the storms followed it. I would come home on the school bus to heavy gray skies - swollen with rain and growling -, head inside and turn on, as I called it, "The Weather Show." This was not an actual show, I should explain. It's simply that, when storms become severe enough, when the winds begin to swirl and twist and the clouds rise in massive, looming banks, every channel becomes the weather.

I would watch, then. Sitting on the couch, boneless as any post-school teen in an oversized hoodie, I would watch the swirling colors of the radar, a sea of lightning icons flashing to represent every lightning strike. I would watch the greens and yellows on the map bloom into orange, into red and I would smile. On some days, the red would go black. Even electric pink. I would watch for lightning out the windows, listen for the thunder growing closer, snapping at the heels of the strikes. And then… I went outside. Just on the porch. There was a single little square of concrete outside the front door, and I would stand beside the bucket of petunias and gaze upwards. I liked best when the rain had yet to fall. I could still see the clouds, then.

I liked to watch the coming fronts. See how they moved and turned and roiled and drink in every single shift. I would stand and stare and feel the wind go cool and warm and whip about me, twisting and tugging and sending leaves rustling, swaying, flying on its fingers.

Lightning struck, thunder rolled. And as the clouds began to dance, I would hear it. The tornado sirens began to sing and the storm reveled. And so did I.

I was never that concerned for my safety. My parents didn't like it, but they'd usually be at work and in no position to enforce me going inside. They thought it was dangerous. I thought that there was nowhere safer to be than right where I could watch it; it’s not like we had a basement or anything, so even if I did have to take shelter, it would have just been in the downstairs bathroom. And if it had been a truly big storm, then, well. You may as well hide in a cardboard box for all the good a house will do you. There’s little difference to the wind.

I would only head inside if it began to rain. That made it dangerous. They call them "rain-wrapped," you see. When tornadoes are hidden in a curtain of thick rain.

When you can't - won't - see them coming.

Radar can tell you a lot about a storm, but it can't tell you when a funnel has landed. It can show rotation, capture the churn as an adorable, laughable little swirl on a radar map, but you need real, human eyes out there to confirm if it’s just a cute little swirl on a map or a behemoth. Freshly landed and ravenous.

I never truly saw one in my childhood.

I saw pictures. I saw what they could do. Rest assured - I loved the storms. But I had seen exactly what kind of damage they could leave in their wake and exactly how insignificant I would be in the face of a one brandishing its strength. They can wind sheet metal around trees like ribbons. Isn't that something? That something so intangible as the wind, when truly roused, can simply… wipe the earth clean.

There was a mall, or a warehouse maybe. I can't remember exactly and I only saw the foundations left afterwards. A single, barren block of concrete stretching across empty, flat land. No trees. Not even a pipe left poking out. Nothing. Just barren concrete and scrubby grasses. They said the tornado that ate it was more than a mile wide.

How hungry it must have been.

I thought of those ribbons of metal every time I stood sentry, and thrilled and shivered at the idea.

There was only one time I ever felt truly afraid. It was not raining, so I got to watch. As the sirens screamed, I knew it would be different this time. Because the sky had gone black.

No gentle gray. Not even a dark, moody slate. The clouds above had gone black and sickly green and I could see them begin to turn. Coiling in on themselves, twisting and gathering and descending. I still watched. It was like… like I was transfixed. Like I could feel It before I saw It.

Rain began to fall in heavy, spattering drops, hand in hand with hail that crunched and bounced off the ground. My little square of concrete remained dry, but by all means I should have gone inside by then. The storm was furious, its teeth bared and flashing all across the green-black sky. The thunder came so loud, so close, that it set off car alarms.

And in the clouds… don't laugh, alright? Because that day, in those descending clouds, I saw something.

A hand.

Massive. As black as the clouds it swirled and toyed with, with lightning sparking across its fingers.

I could see it twirling the clouds like… Like I might have done water in a bucket. But where I could manage only a little whirlpool, there and gone in an instant, this… this being. It spun the storm into a funnel that came and came until it brushed the tree tops. The branches, the shingles reached up to meet it, pulled and snapped and whisked away - and then it simply stopped.

The hand withdrew, and the funnel petered out.

I suppose it got bored with its bucket that day.

I had no idea what I had seen, but as I leaned back against the front door, the breath pulled from my lungs as the storm lumbered on, I never looked away from the clouds. Not until the storm front passed. I did not see that hand again.

It changed things.

The terror that had lanced through me. The sheer awe of something so… so vast. A being that held the skies in its palms and molded clouds like clay.

I still watched the storms. But… I did not only watch the clouds, the brilliant lightning anymore. I searched. As terrified as I had been, I wanted to see that being again.

So, I became a storm chaser.

It seemed the best thing to do, really, although my mother really, really disagreed. It wasn't… it wasn't exactly a job? I mean. I had one. But storm chasing was my passion. It was only a few months a year and it most definitely did not pay the bills, but I did get paid sometimes. Honestly, I was just in it for the chase. The fear, the wonder. I took a lot of pictures. I helped call in information for the Weather Show. I probably helped save lives by letting people know when they needed to stop watching the clouds and the radar and get down, even when I was out there right in the thick of it. I learned quite a lot about tornadogenesis and definitely became one of Those People at a party, but instead of my dog or my hypothetical children, it'd be mesocyclones and subvortices - which nobody ever liked to learn much about. "Multiple Vortex Tornadoes" also weren't popular, which was a real shame.

It's probably a good thing I didn't go to a lot of parties.

I had friends of course. Other storm chasers, mostly, but I never chased with anyone else. Stopped and rested, choked down greasy dive burgers galore and refueled at gas stations visited by just as many guys on horses as us in our ratty but dependable chasing cars, but I never, never rode along with anyone.

After all… I never told anyone about what I saw that day. It seemed like a good way to get a ticket to the shrink, honestly. Didn't really want to tell my mom or the other chasers I was chasing some storm-spinning giant when everyone was already worried enough about perfectly mundane lightning strikes and hail and goddamn deer in the road.

And, I admit, if I saw it again, I wanted it to just be me there. Just me and the storm.

But after I'd had a go at chasing for a season or two, I noticed something… odd? Crazy, maybe.

I could smell when it would be a good storm. Others bemoaned my luck when I followed the scent to some truly incredible, terrifying shots of a real monster of a storm, and when it happened more? I certainly knew my meteorology, but there was only so far it and dumb luck carried me and I was well aware of it. At some point, I'd get this. This urge. An instinct, I think. And I would roll down the car window, breathe in the air, and I'd follow where the sharp scent of lightning and vapor and twisting currents lead me.

Once I tuned into it, like, really nailed it down, it never led me wrong. I had some close scrapes - mostly at night, when the storm can bear down on you astonishingly silently for something described most often as sounding like an oncoming train, which is dreadfully accurate - but I always came out alive and uninjured and my car mostly intact until I got better at sniffing out the storm and could drive myself down the best roads at just the right time.

It became… bliss. Knowing in the air when a storm would come, smelling the potential of it as I rushed out to my car and sped off down the back roads, well before the sirens began to wail. To chase the storms and revel in their song.

That's how I met him, actually.

Mr. Fairchild. Excuse me, Simon Fairchild.

I'd been watching the sky that day, and I knew that it would do something good. The storm hadn't quite formed yet, but the air was right and static jittered down my spine as I ambled through the shack of the nearest convenience store/gas station and got my drinks, snacks, and a spare gas tank ready with what I hoped was passably calm. I don't think I quite got it right because the cashier seemed a little… unnerved? When I came to the register, but, well. I could definitely feel the pull building and it got hard sometimes to not, as my friends would say, "be a little intense about it."

I was almost vibrating in my skin when I got back into my car and had to take a moment to focus around the scent thick on the wind.

It was different. I hadn't smelled something like this before. It was like… all the scents of all the storms, of all the skies I'd ever known and more, and a tang of something like salt all rolled together and compressed. Maybe… maybe expanded? It was all encompassing, and kind of confusing, like trying to comprehend something that enormous and complex was pointless, but it made my blood race with anticipation.

I drove down the back ways with my windows open, eyes fixed on the clouds as I watched the front begin to build. It was a heavy one. The wall cloud climbed right on up to the vaults of the heavens, lightning crowning its distant peaks like a snow-capped mountain. I reached a good spot - somewhere I knew wouldn't be right in its path, but close enough I could see its every twist, and pulled off the road.

On either side of the road sat empty fields of bored cows and exactly the one tree they gathered under, and between them and me, a grassy ditch to keep the roads from flooding and barbed wire fences to keep the cows contained.

There was nobody else around - not even a farm house that wasn't a mile or more away in the distance - so you can imagine my surprise when I got out of my car and there was a man there.

He had not been there when I pulled over. My eyes are too sharp and the scenery aside from the sky was nothing to write home about, so I definitely had not just not noticed him.

No exaggeration, he looked about 200 years old and like a stiff breeze would turn him to dust. And this pink little man took one deeply amused look at me, standing gawping at him and laughed.

“How ambitious,” he said, half-wheezing at some… joke I was evidently the punchline of.

I decided I did not like him.

I think he knew and just didn’t care. His eyes were sparkling as he practically skipped over to me, cane completely forgotten, and reached up to pat my cheek.

“What would you even do,” he chuckled, “if you managed to catch it?”

This did not make sense at the time. But I was… Hah, I guess I was fortunate enough that he didn’t leave me hanging.

His hands were surprisingly strong when they tightened around my arms and turned me around. And I saw that the storm… had turned. It made no sense. The winds weren’t moving this way at all before. But now they were. Blowing headlong into my face, the storm billowing and growing unnaturally fast as it practically galloped towards us across the plains.

And then… then I saw It again.

That massive hand, dipping through the clouds and stirring them with a lazy flick of the wrist. Again and again.

My heart beat rabbit-quick in my chest.

I should have shaken him off. Should have jumped right back into my car. The door was still open and it was right there. My every sane instinct was screaming at me to go, to run.

But the scent on the air… it pulled me too strongly. That unimaginably deep scent, layered and layered with every wind in the sky. It came from that… being. It clung, I realized, to the little man chuckling beside me. Like he’d been saturated in it. And wreathed in it as I was, watching the dust stir and dance on the ground beneath that hand, watching the clouds swirl and funnel. I knew there was no time to run anymore. Those fingers dragged through the dirt, the clouds landed, and it began to charge.

It was… enormous.

And yet I couldn’t quite muster the fear. It was there, but like… like there was a layer of plastic between it and myself? I wanted to run, but it was a genuine battle whether it’d be away - to throw myself into the shelter of the ditch and pray - or towards it. Like it was something I could chase down and bite?

I had hunted for this thing for years.

There was no way I would run from it.

And oh how much Simon laughed as I realized I was grinning, ear to ear. A bright, feral thing as the tornado ripped apart the field across the road, as the winds whipped so fiercely about us it hurt - carrying dust and grass like bullets and knives it was all too excited to wield.

The last thing I remember for sure is watching that barbed wire fence being uprooted, peeled apart like a spool of yarn and he… Simon. He let go of my arms, then. I think he spread out his own, and stepped forward into that blackened, swirling wall of destruction that blotted out everything else - and then… I suppose everything went black.

I wasn’t unconscious exactly. I know I was ripped off the ground. I know I felt the wind toss me like a leaf.

I know I saw that hand inside the funnel. Saw enough to trace it upwards as I spun in that dizzying whorl - up and up, the rest of an arm enormous beyond comprehension.

I saw up into the center of the funnel and beyond. Into an expanse of impossible, pure, sky-spotted black that was… was its body, I think. If something like that even has a body? It was a view that shouldn’t have existed, either way. I’m not entirely sure if it was a hallucination caused by… well, by being thrown around inside an absolutely massive tornado, which is not exactly the most hospitable place for the human body. It feels like it was real though.

I think I even managed to touch It. I may not fully remember what happened in there, as I was left at the mercy of the storm, but I can… remember with weird clarity the challenge that odd little man had thrown at me.

What would you even do if you caught it?

I had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Before I blacked out for real, I saw that hand lift up past me, and I reached out. If I close my eyes, I can see it. So dark, like an expanse of black-blue velvet. And my right hand, so small, framed against it, reaching and reaching, determined to catch. I had to.

Ah. Unfortunately, that’s all I remember.

The next thing I recall, I woke up in a field. I was… a mess. But I was whole and alive, which was more than I could say for my car. I never found it. That was not surprising. Not when I managed to sort myself out and stumble my way to a hotel.

That was when I actually learned Simon’s name. Why?

Because tucked into my wallet was a credit card, with the name Simon Fairchild emblazoned on it. And a note.

There’s so many more storms out there to see, it said in a neat, loopy script. Why restrict yourself to just one sky?

It listed an address in Florida and a date and I knew without hesitation whose it was. Could practically hear his gleeful little accent.

I didn’t let myself think about it for a bit. Not until I’d wobbled my way through a shower and had a chance to check the weather reports.

It was… hahaha, god, I. I still can’t believe it. Out of everything, this is the thing my head has the most trouble with, so I’ll just say it.

The tornado that picked me up traveled 200 miles. A single funnel, almost record-breakingly huge, and I had been inside it for hours. I wasn’t even in my state anymore.

And I was alive. I wasn’t even bleeding. And I was… drenched in that storm scent. My right hand even more so, where I could still feel the phantom tingle of the sky against my fingertips.

It took me a few days to handle things. I bought a new car on my gifted credit card with minimal guilt involved and once I had that and new clothes and let my mother and chaser friends know I was alive, I started to drive. There were storms behind me, I knew. I could smell them so, so clearly now. But that singular scent on the wind pulled me away.

To Florida.

I wanted answers, I told myself, and an address where I could get them.

And I wanted more skies.

You can probably guess how that went. I mean, this office you’ve got here definitely isn’t the Midwestern United States. I still don’t like the Fairchilds, but I guess Simon Fairchild seems to like me. We run into each other a lot. He still finds me funny for some reason.

We don’t… we don’t travel together. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I might be chasing storms around the world now on the Fairchild dime, but I’m not so mad as to get on an airplane with any of them.

It’s just… he was right.

There are so many more skies out there. I’m still fond of the storms. Nothing quite raises my pulse like the snap of lightning and thunder in the air, but… there’s just so much more.

And the storm scent hasn’t led me wrong yet.

#crowswritings #tma #tma advent project #HOWLS i really can't say enough how happy i was to write this one #it's something folks not from the midwest kind of struggle to accept?#like i tell folks yeah man i would stand outside to watch the storms come in and they act like i'm mad hahah #there's something beautiful and terrifying about the power of those storms that inspires such awe and respect that i go hoooghghg #oh also the fairchilds absolutely have beachfront florida property #sorry i'm telling the truth

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renee561 · 3 years

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I Want to Marry My Best Friend

Thank you for liking and reblogging my other prompts which can be found here and here. Hope you've enjoyed them!

Inspired by Tim McGraw's song My Best Friend

Day 3 of @lukanettejune 's prompts. This time it's Best Friend. Hope yall like it! Enjoy!

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When my world was crazy you're right there to save me. You make me see how much I have

She thrived in chaos. Some days, it felt like if the world hadn't gone crazy at least three times, it was a slow and uneventful day. She had the nickname amongst her fellow artisans as Marinette "La Tornade" Dupain-Cheng as she was usually busy going from one project to another juggling everything and anything the fashion world threw at her. Sometimes great and other days not so great, but she usually left a path in her wake. If others chose not to follow she no longer concerned herself with trying to slow herself to fit their perception of what she should be. Not since she was fifteen and the boy she liked for two years turned her down flat. He was kind, but it just allowed her to break whatever mold she had placed herself in trying to gain his attention.

She has been a designer intern for The Gabriel Agreste brand since she was sixteen. A creator of vision and she was Paris' superhero saving the city for even longer. Her world consisted of chaos, by the time she stopped, usually meant it was time to rest before she did it all again the next day.

There were only three people that could boost that they could settle the force of nature Marinette had become. Her parents of course and Luka.

Luka, her anchor in her path. Always there, always timing it just right to get her to calm down, breathe, smell the roses. Relax.

Like right now they were on a picnic date instead of her hunched over her crafting desk in their apartment trying to meet another impossible deadline set by Monsieur Agreste. But she knew even the man took breaks, Nathalie made sure of it. The man was at least smart enough to listen to her.

Luka kissed her forehead and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She no longer wore pigtails, but instead had it long and in a single braid down her back, much like when she was once Lady Noire. Still small hairs escaped from their confines and she leaned into his touch.

He always made her feel calm and collected, he was there for her when her world spiraled out of control and she leaned on him when she couldn't continue making the chaos she was known for. With Luka, she didn't have to be La Tornade, or Ladybug, or anything other than Marinette, even then she could let the chaos subside and let the sunshine in.

You stood by me, you believe in me like no one ever has

He always had a strong support system. His Ma after his Da left became the shoulder he leaned into, but also the shoulder he supported whenever he could. Juleka was his sister, his twin, there was this unspoken and often spoken support to her and in her own ways supported him equally.

When he wanted to pursue music as a career his Ma was supportive, Jules gathered her friends from lycee and they formed Kitty Section.

Kitty Section, which to this day was still popular with the teens and even their age group. They were working gigs almost every weekend and sometimes three nights a week in different spots in Paris.

However, curled into his side was the most supportive person he knew. His melody.

He pushed hair out of her face and behind her ear, his finger stroking the black earrings that lay innocently in her ear at the moment. He's known since she was fifteen, after Adrien rejected her. It wasn't done cruelly, but he was in love with someone else and she respected that. He remembered feeling hopeless to her cries and her tears, yet he was the friend that sat with her and wiped them away when she was too drained to move. He distracted her many nights playing his guitar, soft music for her to sleep peacefully. Finding out she was Ladybug had been surreal.

How could this perfect girl be any more amazing...and BAM! She's the hero of their city, fighting battles most would run from. Fighting to save people, to keep the good in this long battle, despite most of the time she was alone. Chat has gotten better about not sacrificing himself in the middle of the battle, but back then he would take himself out hazardously if it meant Ladybug could get the object. A miscalculation in Luka's opinion.

She needed a partner to aid her when her other one baited the villain. He saved her countless times, has seen many things, including her true identity. It only made him love her more and be there for her more when she literally felt the weight of a city on her shoulders.

He never admitted it, until they were officially dating three months after Adrien rejected her. Three months of worry and helplessness on his part, but nothing he would have traded for this moment.

He kissed her forehead and held her closer to him. Her melody is the song in his head and the butterflies in his gut.

She supported him through the late nights and the frustration of notes being a jumbled mess on paper, to missed dates because one or both of them were lost in their creative spaces. Her a whirlwind with silk and thread, him a maniac with pen in hand when the right inspiration strikes.

She went to every concert, every gig, designed the costumes, but mostly she supports him when things get too much. When he can't handle the noise of the city mixed in with the song he's trying to focus on, when he can't handle his mother's latest spree of Captain Lunacy, his mother hasn't mellowed out at all and he loved her but she drove him mad at times. Times when he just needed to be engulfed in his girlfriend's arms. A safe harbor to sail into.

Jules helps, but there was only so much his twin could handle before she too must escape into the arms of her own pink princess.

He loved Marinette for all her crazy and all her strength, for being there for him when he needed to get lost in the chaos that she brings. Different than his own family, but still a whirlwind of beautiful catastrophe.

I fall in love all over. Everytime I look at you

She pushed him back so that their eyes could meet. Her heart beat inside her chest at the look of adortion in his gaze. The soft look of wonder that has never faded in their relationship, in fact it has only grown.

"I love you, Couffaine," she whispered as if it was a secret like the identity she carried. Not alone, never alone again.

"As I love you, Ma-Ma-Marinette," he told her and she couldn't help the giggle escape from her lips.

"Want to do something crazy and chaotic?" She curiously asked, a wonderful mad yet brilliant idea forming in her head.

He raised an eyebrow and she grinned teasingly at him, "Let's each marry our best friend!"

His brow furrowed and confusion set into his face, he looked almost like Tikki when she didn't understand one of her plans.

"But your best friend is Alya and mine is–" he paused and the realization hit him.

She smirked at his wide eyes and the joy emitting from such a look took her breath away, and made her heart race a million kilometers a minute.

"You see, Alya is my best girlfriend, but Luka Couffaine is the best boyfriend, my lover, and my biggest fan. The person who's been there for me since I was thirteen, never expected me to return your feelings and I know it's not the most romantic of proposals but I thought might as well bring some chaos into the day. And your mother would never let me live it down if I passed the opportunity!"

He tossed his head back and laughed, the sun shining in his dyed teal locks. She felt the laughter bubble out of her mouth as he leaned over and started to tickle her sides, pulling her firmly into his lap. Locking her fingers together behind his neck, their eyes met, even if she bit her bottom lip to hopefully keep her questions inside.

"I think, Melody, that sounds perfect. Marrying my best friend was always high on my bucket list since I met you," he told her softly pressing his forehead to hers.

She tugged his face closer so that she could kiss him. Her best friend, her lover, and now her fiancé, soon to be husband.

She promised herself she'd give him the chance, but after two weeks, well she wasn't one for waiting around.

#lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #lukanette #luka x marinette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #my writing #my ficlets #miraculous ladybug #lukanettejune 2021 #lukanettejune #long post

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wexarethewalkingxdead · 2 years

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ooc;

The weather is bad here. Storms and possible tornadic activity. So if I’m unreachable that would be why. Usually when all the stuff has passed our electricity goes out. It makes no sense to me, but it’s happened more than it’s not happened. So just warning you all.

#.ooc

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lokilickedme · 3 years

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STORM SEASON PSA

Anyway, now seems like a good time to drop a couple of helpful tips about what to do if you find yourself in a tornadic situation (don’t @ me about that not being a word, I Googled it to be sure) -

First, don’t assume it won’t ever happen where you live. The earth’s climate is getting weirder all the time and tornadoes have started occurring in places that have historically never had them (yes even Canada) and people who aren’t in the southern/midwestern US know little to nothing about them (or how to survive them). I’ve personally lived through five tornadoes (two with direct involvement and three close calls) so everything I’m about to tell you is from personal experience.

Provided your city has a storm alert system, you may or may not receive adequate advance warning in the event of a tornado. This is entirely random and depends on literally nothing - if a storm looks like it might be capable of producing a tornado, the weather service will catch it and let you know to be on the alert. But that’s about the extent of how much they can predict with tornadoes...these suckers form fast, sometimes from storms that don’t even appear capable, and sometimes it’s pretty much a BOOM HERE I AM BITCH DEAL WITH ME type of situation, in which case it’s time to relapse back into whatever religion you’ve lapsed from and hope your god didn’t notice you were gone.

And look, I know your first impulse when that siren goes off will be to think you have a few minutes to grab your laptop or some pictures or something, but YOU DO NOT. If it’s a tornado, trust me when I say those fuckers move FAST. If there’s one barrelling your way, it’s entirely possible the storm tracking system only caught it right that second and it’s already arrived. These things form out of nothing and without warning, they’re not usually something that radar and stormspotters have been watching for miles as they head your way (those do happen but they are not the rule, they are the exception). They can spin up one second and hit your city five seconds later, sometimes long before the sirens ever go off. For example, the progression of our storm on Monday went from zero to 100 in the space of one minute. We had a minor rain shower, and five minutes into it an alert came up saying we now had a severe thunderstorm warning, which around here is usually no big deal. Less than one minute later that thunderstorm warning became a blaring alert telling us to get to shelter immediately, and a few seconds later the city sirens were going off. There was no tornado watch or rotation warning in between. It happened that fast. You don’t have time to mess around when a tornado is involved, either actively or potentially.

This is important: tornadoes are mean vicious bastards and sometimes they give no warning that they’re about to appear, so once that siren starts going off or your phone starts squawking at you to get to shelter, YOU GO RIGHT THAT SECOND. If you have a shelter, get in it. Don’t even bother grabbing your shoes unless they’re already at the door as you’re going through it. We have gotten in our shelter half naked and barefoot too many times to count, and though I’m sure it would be amusing and/or traumatizing as hell for the first responders if they ever had to come dig us out, the fact remains that we lived bitch.

(more under the cut because this got super long and I know anything more than three scrolls pisses people off in here) -

(continued)

No shelter? Get in the closet on the lowest floor of your house, or go to the basement, or if all else fails get in the bathtub and try to pull your bed mattress over yourself. Cram in there tight, and if stuff starts flying, lay over your kids face down. Tuck their heads and then get yours tucked too. You’d rather get hit in the back than in the skull by your grandma’s china collection, trust me.

Going to the public shelter? Better hurry up. You don’t really want to be in a vehicle, it might seem heavy enough to hold you down but depending on the size of the funnel and the wind speed, it’s likely not. Your Chevy can get picked up and thrown easier than you’d think. The storm Monday hurled an 18-wheeler full of cargo across the interstate like it was a Tonka toy. The one in 2010 wrapped several cars around trees and picked a guy up in his truck and dropped him in the middle of a field of cows - and the cows didn’t even get windblown. I’m telling you, these things are weird and unpredictable and you don’t mess with them.

In your hideyhole? STAY THERE. Don’t peek out, you don’t want to see what’s happening. Even more to the point, you don’t want your head knocked off by a flying fencepost. These things get wicked suction drafts going too, you can get yanked right out of your shelter/closet and then you’re done for and potentially so is everyone else inside. Slide the bolt or bolster the barricade and sit tight, it’ll be over soon.

Don’t come out until the noise has stopped or lessened drastically for several minutes. If you’re in the eye of the storm, it’ll be quiet for a few seconds to a couple of minutes depending on the size. Don’t come out during this stage because it’s just going to kick right back up in a minute. Wait it out.

Got pets? You might have to make some tough decisions. If there’s time (the alert hasn’t said to seek shelter immediately yet) get them caged or crated or leashed and take them with you (crated is best, they’re gonna get scared and flighty). If the alert is telling you to get to shelter now and they’re where you can grab them quickly, do that. If there’s no time, you gotta prioritize. Yourself and your kids first. It’s hard and it hurts and you’ll feel like shit about leaving them behind, but if there’s no time and that storm is bearing down on you, you can’t be searching under all the beds for the kitties. YOUR TIME IS SEVERELY LIMITED. If your animals are indoor/outdoor and are used to going outside, you might want to leave a door open for them on your way out so they can get out of the house if it comes down. In general animals are pretty smart and will do what they need to do without you getting yourself killed trying to save them. During the 2010 tornado we had acquaintances whose cats escaped their house and hid in the woods for a few days. The house was destroyed, the cats were fine, they wandered to a neighbor’s place when they were tired of eating lizards. Dogs likewise will generally find safe spaces to hide in. Apologize to them when the storm is over, they’re not gonna hold it against you. They probably don’t even know anything happened and you don’t have to tell them.

If you live in a storm-prone place like we do, there’s stuff you should be doing automatically - like keeping shoes/rainboots at the door and having a go-bag ready as soon as your weather app starts saying things could get nasty. Put a bottle of water and some granola in that go-bag, it’s amazing how the simple act of eating something can calm you down when you’re hunkering. Check your shelter ahead of the storm if you have one, make sure there’s no bugs or raccoons living in it since the last time you used it. Make sure you know how to get to the public shelter if you’re planning to use that. If you have kids, keep a motorcycle helmet or bike helmet (both constantly readily available at thrift shops for cheap) by the door with the rainboots (if stuff starts flying or you’re going to have to make a run for the car or your shelter is a far distance from the house, you’re going to want your kiddos’ heads protected from projectiles). Teach them to gear up fast.

Run drills at the beginning of storm season, make sure everyone in the house knows what to do. HAVE AN EMERGENCY VERSION OF A SAFEWORD - basically one phrase that only gets used when it’s time to hotfoot it to the shelter or car, something you can yell and everyone jumps to attention and does what they’re trained to do without hesitation. In our house it’s LET’S GO MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT and let me tell you, Little is gone by the second MOVE IT, screw the rest of us he’s outta here and in the shelter and if you’re not quick he’ll bolt the door behind himself. The procedure is that he and Big go without me and pull the hatch shut once they’re in, and (if there’s time) I get the cats and kick the doors open to keep the windows from exploding (yes they do this, it’s incredibly terrifying and horrifically dangerous). I call Tom if he’s not in the house and then I head for the shelter.

If you’re preparing your go-bag ahead of time, do so with the expectation that you may not be coming back home for a day or two. Put in a quick change of clothes for each family member, some cash (the whole town could lose power and your debit/credit card will be useless), your phone or tablet, a power brick if you have one for charging your phone, any meds you or family members will need, and (if you have adequate time and your bag has space) whatever small item(s) you treasure most (photos, jewelry, important documents etc). DO NOT BOTHER WITH THESE THINGS IF THE SIRENS ARE ALREADY GOING OFF, THIS IS ONLY IF YOU HAVE ADEQUATE ADVANCE PREPARATION TIME. As noted above, if the sirens are going off, get your ass to safety and forget about everything else.

WHEN IT’S OVER: Hug the kids. Tell them you don’t know who did it but if either of them ever farts inside the shelter again you’re going to leave them both tied to a tree next time and god help them. If it was you, see above. Nobody can prove it.

Assess. Is the house hit hard? Don’t go near it, there could be gas leaking or covered fires burning or structural damage waiting to collapse. Help is likely already on the way but call 911, stay calm, tell them your address and then go stand near the street if you can (but not IN the street - visibility may be low if it’s still storming and people get stupid when they’re freaked out). Is the house standing? Go inside if it doesn’t appear to have been hit or if the hit is negligible (cosmetic damage, shingles missing). If there’s a big tree on the roof, only one person go inside, make sure the ceiling isn’t coming down before anyone else goes in. Stay away from that end of the house until it can be checked for integrity/structural safety. No discernible hit or very mild damage? Go in, check for gas leaks, check the pets if they were left inside, check the ceiling and windows in each room. Check the water, see if there are spewing leaks anywhere. If the power is off, call it in (they likely already know so if you get the automated system telling you they’re aware, don’t call again, you’ll load up their system). Many utility companies will let you enter your phone number into the system and will auto-text you with repair/outage updates. Use this. Information is incredibly comforting, even if it’s just the same message telling you there is no ETA for repair yet.

Power’s out? Don’t open the fridge unless you have to, your food will stay okay longer if you’re not letting the cold air out. Go around and unplug all your appliances and devices, computers, TVs, etc - sometimes when the power comes back on it can blow stuff out. Get your candles out, find your flashlights, and sit tight. Water’s out? An uprooted tree probably broke a pipe somewhere on your block and it sucks to be you for the next 12 or so hours. There’s gonna be a run on bottled water at WalMart so if you’re headed there, get what you need but don’t be a dick, everybody needs water. Pick up some quick food that doesn’t require cooking/heating or can openers. Grab a case of wet wipes. Use their bathroom while you’re there, wash up in their sink, use their soap and paper towels. Use their WiFi too, check the web for updates on utility repair ETAs, storm tracking, etc. Take a minute to hit your social media and let your friends know you’re alive. It’s freaky as hell to see on the news that some place where one of your internet buddies lives was hit by a tornado and then not see them online for a few days.

Smell gas, either inside your house or outside it? CALL IT IN NOW. The movies aren’t kidding, that shit explodes. If there’s gas in the house get out, go sit on the curb if you have to until the gas co guys get there, then do what they tell you.

Are emergency services involved? DO WHAT THEY TELL YOU. Don’t argue or get in the way, they have a job to do and most of the time they gotta do it quick. Stay out of the street and drag any debris out of the roadway if you’re able. Ambulances and fire trucks generally need to get where they’re going in a hurry and they don’t need you milling around out in the street.

Check on your neighbors, especially if they’re old or disabled. They may not know what happened and even if they’re not injured, they may be scared, especially if the lights are out. Give them a flashlight if you have an extra and help them call their relatives or caretakers.

See a tree branch or your kids’ trampoline draped over or laying against a power line? LEAVE IT ALONE. Call it in. They know how to deal with this stuff safely, you don’t. Power line on the ground? DON’T TOUCH IT. If it’s live, you’re not.

Lastly, this is no time to be stupid. If you hear the words “Hey watch this” come out of ANYONE’S mouth, even if it’s your beloved, you leave that idiot to fend for themselves. During the 2010 storm this guy we knew (everyone knew him, he was the village idiot and I don’t mean that in an endearing way) thought it would be cool to tie himself to a tree wearing an army surplus parachute so he could experience the oncoming tornado up close and personal. I’ve never seen a more shining example of “God looks out for fools and children” because the moron didn’t actually die, but please don’t put God on the spot like that, he’s bound to eventually get bored of your stupid ass demanding his intervention every time the weather service sends out an alert and let you become an example to everybody else.

Stay safe kiddos, it’s a messy world out there. Mother Nature has a nasty sense of humor and we’re the punchline.

#tornado awareness #safety tips

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astrorising · 4 years

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quick update on laura before i head off to bed.

*not my picture*

like i said previously, the east side of the storm and eye are always the worst side of the storm. on radar, it’s catching 196 mph gusts on the east side of the eye. that is DANGEROUS. these are GUSTS, not the actual continuous wind speeds. gusts are still VERY dangerous.

what to expect through the overnight hours:

• VERY intense CONSTANT winds and wind gusts. but remember, the winds aren’t the main killers. very dangerous, but not the real enemy here.

• VERY VERY dangerous and life threatening storm surge and surge waves. weather channel and the NHC (national hurricane center) are predicting AT least 10-12 feet waves (could be greater), and storm surge that could reach 40 miles inland. storm surge happens because of the high winds from the hurricane pushing the ocean waters inland. THIS is the one of the most, if not THE most dangerous part. if you get caught in storm surge.... good luck to you. especially with how dangerous hurricane laura truly is, the storm surge is unsurvivable. read my previous posts on possible life saving techniques god forbid you are caught in storm surge.

• CATASTROPHIC FLOODING. I-10 is officially closed, as it should be. it will be completely flooded and impossible to drive on. the rains will be very heavy, and constant throughout the time of laura.

• LOTS of tornadoes. i would say seek shelter at a lower ground if this were a regular tornadic situation, but it is not. you will probably not hear the tornadoes because of the extremely dangerous high winds. do not evacuate to lower grounds with this hurricane. flooding and storm surge are the main issues with this storm. seek highest grounded possible to avoid drowning. usually the tornadoes aren’t very strong, but it is also 2020. i wouldn’t dismiss anything.

• did i say storm surge?

• power outages across la (louisiana), and parts of texas. especially if you’re close to landfall, do not expect emergency services arriving anytime soon. if it’s too dangerous for you, it’s too dangerous to emergency personnel. seek higher ground immediately, or find people with boats NOW. boats are really the only answer for a decent chance of survival.

before i go to bed, laura is just 20+ miles from landfall. please be careful and diligent with yalls safety. katrina was a category 5 before landfall, but a strong category 3 landfall. laura is already stronger than katrina, and we all remember katrina’s damage. regardless, this will be historically catastrophic. i am thinking of you all that are affected. please be safe. i love you! 💜

⚠️ important update ⚠️

weather channel has announced laura is STILL strengthening as we speak. pressure has dropped EVEN more. i have posted pictures of updated storm surge predictions. please be safe, this is life threatening.

#hurricane laura

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

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Summoning the Wind

RuYi knocked on Brian’s door. He opened, in his usual jeans and t-shirt. “Come on in.”

She stepped into a spotless room. Books were neatly arranged on shelves. There was a rack for shoes and a bucket for boots next to the door. Succulent plants lined the small windows. Lamp lights were of a bright white color, adding to the airy feel. White fur rugs lined the floor in front of a black leather couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?” He asked.

“Sure!” She shed her boots at the door and removed her scarf, coat and hat. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“I’ve been here a while.” He said from the kitchen. She watched as he poured tea from an electric kettle. She walked over to a shelf of photos. She picked out one. A younger, thinner Brian stood in front of a woman and two other boys.

She remembered the woman. It was his mother. She was smiling in this photo. It was the only time she ever saw her smile. The night they met she was very upset to hear how much her son was being bullied without her knowledge.

“You’re a Rank A hybrid. So... she must be a hybrid too?” RuYi looked over her shoulder at him. She accepted the tea cup he offered.

“Yes but she’s not part of a dragonslaying family. Her family is an offshoot of a ruling class that emigrated from the UK after the fall of the monarchies there. “

He returned to the couch and she joined him there.

“So your dad must be really high ranking then?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah... Anyway. You didn’t come here to ask me about that.”

She figured his absentee father would be a sore topic and agreed to drop it. She pulled out her phone to take notes. “I wanted to know more about your Soul Skill. What is it like to control the wind?”

“Heh.” He chuckled.

She looked up at him unaware that she had said anything amusing.

He sat back on the couch, one arm resting behind her head, crossing one leg over the other. “Control is not how I’d put it.”

He raised his grey eyes up to the ceiling, a bemused smile coming to his face, like he was thinking fondly of someone.

“How would you put it then?” She asked cautiously.

“An orca trainer at an amusement park once said, ‘You don’t tell the whales what to do. You ask... politely.’”

His smile disappeared and he looked at her seriously. “The wind can’t be controlled. It can ignore you. In a way, it’s a Soul Skill more unstable than Jun Yan, just not as ... directly harmful.”

“Jun Yan... Royal Fire...”

His eyes narrowed and she suddenly was uncomfortable with his arm behind her. “You should be familiar with how dangerous a Soul Skill like that is.”

“Is Wind Lord’s Stare really that dangerous?” She remembered being strongly lifted by the wind that day. Just how much could have gone wrong?

“Wind hates a vacuum. It’s sensitive to change. The same physics that allow us to breathe can spawn a hurricane or a tornado. So I have to be very careful with how I use it.”

“So it requires a lot of care... and concentration.” She started writing in her phone.

“Every application of Wind Lord Stare has to be deliberate and focused and under the right conditions. If it’s a windy day out already? There are much larger forces calling the wind, forces that I may not be able to persuade the wind to ignore.”

“A powerful storm front can drown out my words. I might be able to summon a gale... but that’s nothing when standing in front of a windstorm. Am I making sense?” He tilted his head.

She nodded. “So... the Lord of Stormwind....”

“He would have the ultimate power to control how the air moves. He would be able to overrule or even create a tornadic force. He would also be able to cause such disasters from a distance.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “From a distance?”

“Yes. Every storm is just an effect of forces that come together from far away. If the Lord of Stormwind sneezes a certain direction, that can influence the weather for an entire continent. Since he has ultimate control, he can be very precise.”

“Is that why potential manifestations of his power are so scattered?” She put down her phone and looked up at him in amazement..

“Likely. Have you heard of the butterfly effect?”

“Yes, a flapping butterfly can cause large changes over time and distance.”

“Right. Meteorology is a science that studies this sort of chaos. Even with super computers, they cannot predict the weather ten days out. But... The Lord of Stormwind has ultimate control over it. If he wakes up...” He let out a breath, eyes widening as he shook his head at the prospect. “We’ll know it... real quick.”

He lifted the teacup, eyes distant. “The key will be striking fast. Before he attains full control of his powers.” He took a test sip but the tea was still too hot.

“Why isn’t any of this written in the books?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Frankly? It’s speculation. Everyone has their own ideas. I’m just speaking from my personal experience.” Brian shrugged and blew on his tea cup.

She sighed and blew on her tea. “I hope they’re happy with that.”

“Who?”

“My professors who gave me this assignment. I’m doing my best, but... I have to make up so much.”

“Sounds to me like you’re gathering evidence. You’re doing fine.” He finally sipped his tea.

“Evidence?”

“He’s the last of the four monarchs who haven’t been tracked down by Cassell. The war isn’t over. You’re just not on the front.”

“That’s what this assignment is really about?!” RuYi couldn’t believe her ears. She was gathering intel for a dragonslaying operation? They didn’t even tell her!

Brian started laughing. “You’ve got that pretty little Rank-S You’re better equipped than all of them to finally finish the job!”

“Why?! What does my dragonblood have to do with any of this? I’m just asking questions!”

He reminded her of her father, how his smiles would fade so quickly. “Let me put it this way. Imagine that we were both going to write a book report on Thailand. I look through all the information I can in the library. Who do you think would write a better report? You or me?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“Because I grew up there.”

“Exactly. Ru’Yi... everyone is looking at dry, dusty tombs, and faded artifacts for all the clues they write in these books. But Dragons... they change, they adapt. You are just about as much dragon as you are human. Any insight, no matter how small, can make the difference.”

“Really?” She chewed her lip, brow furrowed.

“Really. Don’t worry if it feels like you’re making it up. It’s what they want you to do. Follow your logic where it takes you. Let them sort out the rest. That’s your real assignment.”

She knew he was trying to reassure her, but she only felt more pressured. “Okay... Thanks. I guess... I should get going.”

“That’s it?” Brian said, frowning. “You just came here for the report.”

“I mean... I don’t want to keep you...”

He sighed and shook his head. “You rush around too much. Let’s hang out a little bit.”

“Uh... o...okay.”

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing #RuYi

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cavitymagazine · 4 years

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𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔧𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

There’s a painting of it that you’ve probably seen somewhere. Pointillist. A dirt road and a cornfield. A parked green tractor. And, the imagery discordant, a dejected ninja slouching beside the tractor, staring down at his limply held blade as though it’s the ultimate substantiation of meaninglessness. This painting’s been reproduced, parodied, enshrined, and displayed all over the globe. It’s at the Detroit Institute of Art, presently, in fact.

Equation from a crypto-meteorological textbook:

91-101 kph [wind speed] + oblique, angular shadow systems [precise configuration/density: UNKNOWN] + misty [optional?] rain/overcast sky + uprooted bamboo trees and/or bamboo chips/strips/material [exact amount UNKNOWN] = ninjitstorm [perhaps]

Crypto-Beaufort Scale entry for ninjitstorm:

Beaufort Number: 10

Name: Chimerical Gale or Conjuror Storm

Wind Speed: 58-62 mph [91-101 kph]

Description: Considerable structural damage occurs; ninja assassins manifest

The homely Nebraska town of Sumner has a general store called General Store – it’s that kind of agrestic. People and corn. And more corn. Grain sacks. A poky video store. Grousing tractors.

Of course this uneventfulness is a late and lamented portraiture of Sumner: it is the way it was before the squall of gleaming katana.

One advanced afternoon in the mid 1990s it rains ninja on Sumner. Like homicidal hailstones, they somersault and roll and flying-kick out of tornadic funnels. Like armed sleet.

It marks the first and only occurrence of this phenomenon in the U.S. It’s a huge moment in Weather History.

Day 1: Chaos and horror. Eleven townsfolk are struck down; some livestock are poisoned by blow darts tipped with something more lethal than cyanide, others are gorily ornamented with shuriken. Green tractor paint obscured by arterial spray. Sumner’s roads go redly moist.

Law enforcement refuses to step in. Here’s an excerpt from the press release the Batch County Sheriff’s Department issued the day of the killer atmospheric conditions:

“While this department mourns the lives lost in Sumner this afternoon, the deaths, according to FEMA meteorologists, are no more ‘criminal’ than, for example, hurricane or mudslide casualties. We don’t arrest natural disasters; we don’t prosecute tsunamis. Sorry.

FEMA experts advise residents to stay indoors until a solution is reached. Crisis managers are in talks with Tokyo climatologists…”

Day 2: Terrorized townies hole up inside their houses and barns. Doors are needlessly barricaded and boarded over. (The aerial ninja confine their sneaky, homicidal industry to the outside world, in compliance with some meteorological principle only the atmosphere kens.) Sumner fathers cradle shotguns, uselessly. (Bullets have no effect on thunderstorms, squalls, or pneumatic assassins.) The town on Day 2 is ghostly and coiled, tense. Black-masked ninja zip in and across Sumner’s roads like darts: horizontal black blurs… a deadly twinkle of metal… then: gone. Hidden again.

Ain’t seen one all afternoon.

That don’t mean they ain’t out there.

My nephew googled it.

What’d it say?

Not much. Lingo for ‘em’s some Japanese word. In America they call ‘em Dudikoffs. Sounds Russian.

That don’t help, Carl.

Carl’s dumber ‘an shit on a post.

Eat me, Baker.

Ain’t never happened here in the U.S. Not ever. Last one happened in the Ukraine in ’94. Bunch in Japan in the ‘80s.

On Day 2 the only deaths are an ambling wiener dog cleanly sectioned by a sword and a few chickens, their clucking heads crunched via nunchaku, the weapon’s rawhide link sticky with fowl blood.

Day 3-5: A predawn charge overtures a full day of mass assassination almost as frenetic and ravaging as the first. This spasm of killing, however, slows over days 4 and five. The manifestation still beheads anyone or anything not under a roof, human or stock, but a certain berserk spirit seems to dissipate noticeably. The slaying isn’t as enthusiastic.

Theories abound, most of them infused with a hope contoured by acute desperation; they’re near-mythic, these theories.

Research into feline predatory patterns/Marquette University/1996:

“Our team stuck cats – housecats and ferals, both – into cages: one cat per cage. Then we simply dumped mice into these cages with the cats. Dozens of mice. The mice, of course, had nowhere to hide.

“The pattern was conspicuous right away: the cat frenzies, eyes big as dinner plates, followed by a maelstrom of claw action.

“Every cat, though, without variance, did this:

“They massacred the mice frantically, as though the mice could escape or we might take them away any second.

“Then, somewhere around Mouse Victim #14 (it’s a 12-14 range, this phenomenon, though we’ve seen it go as high as 16; never lower than 12), the cat just mellows, stops killing. Every time.

“Does the cat get bored around kill #14? Is its bloodlust sated at or around that magic number? Or does it merely realize the mice are trapped and it need not rush its rampage?

“Or… or, more interestingly, does kitty experience some kind of lynxian existential crisis? Does Garfield gaze dejectedly at his bloody, dripping claws as though they’re the substantiation of meaninglessness and say to itself, figuratively, ‘What’s the use?’

“Does Toonces pause and ask itself, ‘What the fuck is the point of me, anyway?’ Unless someone speaks cat, we’ll probably never know.”

Day 6-21: Days 6-21 play out as a more salient, more fizzly copy of days 4 and five.

The murders diminish in both number and frequency.

The mute ninjaforms meet an apparent corrosion of their eager bloodthirstiness. Their hearts are no longer in it, it seems.

The ninja seem bored. Or disillusioned. Sometimes a ripe townie will stroll right past a ninja, practically daring it to cut him down, practically volunteering, and the airborne assassin will merely look down at the dirt road, as though ashamed.

Some pundits attribute the change to Sumner’s population’s obstinacy, its grim insistence on resuming business-as-usual on Day Five. On 5, farmers rouse their slumbering tractors, church service is held, and a semi-normalcy pre-ninjastorm is willed into being. Granted, ninja bashed and hacked a not-insignificant number of townies during this time of unsheltering, sure, but the folks of Sumner were through hiding, come hell or ninja.

Day 22: A milestone in the Sumner ninjitstorm: 22 marks the day of the final killing of a town resident by a manifestation. It’s an awkward kill, like the last twitch of some fading convulsion: a meaningless reflex. Miss Maple, 83 years old. She was exiting the post office. Three ninjaforms were milling around out front, by the office’s decorative trough and hitching posts. None of the ninja had attacked in days. As Miss Maple passes the trio, nodding a “How do you do?”, one ninja flinches, and the flinch clumsily morphs into an instinctive strike. A jerky nunchaku stick cracks Miss Maple’s brittle skull. Red spurts out through gray scalp. Blood spatters her lavender shawl. She dies in the dirt road, her seizurely throes the only movement. It’s pathetic, that last killing. Dishonorable. Ninja wear masks, but still it’s as though the humiliation can be read on the assassin’s face: a child caught in the act of doing something stupidly cruel for no good reason.

Day 23-Day 60:

Crazy to say it.

Well, shit. You want it to go back to the way it was last month?

‘Course not. Hell.

I know what Carl’s gettin’ at though. Yessir. It’s glum. They’re like reminders of somethin’ sad.

Somethin’ bygone.

Yeah, “gone” is right. Gone are a bunch of decent folk gettin’ stabbed and decapitated for no goddamn reason. Are y’all forgettin’ that?

They are weather, Dan. We gonna hate somethin’ natural forever? It’s like stayin’ mad at the tornado that took your pickup.

Like stayin’ sore at the scorpion for stingin’.

That weather took my wife’s eye out with a dag-gum throwin’ star, Baker.

Settle down y’all.

How much’s a bag of them Corn Nuts?

The picante ones? Them’re good.

Well, listen. Them ninja, they’re here. And, ill or good, they’re ours. That’s how this town is. They’re part of us now.

Harmless, the ninja of Sumner slouch, their all-black suits vivid in the dayglare. They mill a lot, doing nothing – mopey shadows.

A gradual homogeny blooms: the town, its placidness, its standardized, cyclic normalcy, first tames and then assimilates the disorder of ninja, like a gobbling Norman Rockwell that quickly swallows up and absorbs any rogue or transgressive brushstrokes.

No one likes a sad ninja. Sad ninja are worse than your ordinary sad person. They’re oppressive.

The ninjaforms go from skulking assassins to lethargic killers; then to dejected, bland objects of pity – voiceless panhandlers, like stray cats or confused urchins.

Lost in despair, pouting between the town’s squat buildings or brooding in silent circles behind the video store, the ninja, finally, become the sullen pillars of the Sumner community.

Day 61-Present:

The ninja are as much a part of Sumner now as the cattle. As fixed and integral as the cornstalks. More so, maybe.

Sumner’s a tourist destination now; a very disappointing one. Morose ninja contemplating the dirt get boring fast. Tourists snap a few photos of the incongruous weather-forms, grab a slab of Marge’s Diner’s “famous” banana cream pie, and drive back to Florida or California or wherever tourists come from.

There is talk of penning up the ninja and making them a petting zoo. They’re docile as sleepy goats now, after all. Sometimes tourists’ kids will run over and pet one of them or tug at one’s pant leg. It gave people ideas.

Sometimes sympathetic Sumner grandmothers, overcome by pity, will do something like pet one of the glum ninja, stroking its hooded, hung head, extending a solace that isn’t receivable.

Story and artwork by Will Bernardara Jr.

[Author Bio]

Will Bernardara Jr. is the author of the novella America from voidfront.

#altlit #freewriting #americanliterature #writerscorner #ninja #readit #submit #read #alternativelit #shortstory #newshortstory

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readablenoise · 5 years

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Florida’s Best Live Acts of 2019

With a new year, and new decade ahead of us, we recap the best Live Acts Statewide of this past year

Florida- 2019 has been a prosperous music for local music in the state.

With a plethora of albums, EP’s and concerts released before the new decade, in addition to new acts emerging from the already electrified soil, we decided to take our focus on the medium that we believe best proves the true mettle of a band: our selections of the Top 10 Live Acts in Florida.

This proved to be a much harder list than expected, with a great many acts having captured our heart in 2019. However, we stand by this list, and feel that these acts should be the ones you keep your mind, ears and excited soul on in 2020…

The Guttertones (Rock)

(photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

Having formed in just 2019, the duo, composed of Brennan Curtin (drums) and Adam Sheetz (guitar/vocals) perform with the intensity of an act that have been honing their craft for 10 years. Debuting at Bumblefest, their live performances are something inexplicably powerful; with just a guitar, drums and a vox microphone, they can draw in a crowd like flies to sugar, and it helps that the sound coming from the amps is a honey suckle drawl of perfect Southern inspired rock meets the grit of Detroit distortion, all wrapped up in West Palm Beach flair.

They are an act that increasingly better themselves after every viewing, and for that reason and many more, we believe the duo to be one of the best on this list.

https://www.facebook.com/theGutterTones/

Spirit & The Cosmic Heart (Dreampop/Shoegaze)

(photo: Roberto Badillo)

The Lakeland based act has been one we’ve kept on both your radar, and ours, since early this year. Churning and evolving like the Atlantic itself, the group made continued evolving and with each new emergence, seem to just keep getting better.

With their 2nd EP, “Memories” released mid-2019, they are one of the few acts, both locally and internationally, that can sound just as good on record and yet somehow, different. Our best example of this being our personal favorite, “Endlessly”. While the track is an intense Cure meets Mama’s and Papa’s build-up of dreamy romance live, the 5 piece have created an almost alternate reality version of the track on record that explodes just the same, in a different way. And it’s truly the best way to describe the act; something haunting that sparks something individually different, upon every song and every viewing.

https://spiritandthecosmicheart.bandcamp.com/

Donzii (Post-Punk)

(Photo: Jen.cray)

Another of our unabashedly favorite local acts, experiencing the 5 piece in any of the five senses, is akin to visiting one of the great art museums of the world- each time.

With visuals being orchestrated by frontwoman Jenna Balfe, a whirlwind mixture of Siouxsie Sioux and Poly Styrene, every performance Donzii puts on is a different painting, in a different time, all along the already powerful hypnotic music that follows from the chemistry of the act themselves. “Sand”, to our ears, is one of the best tracks of this decade by any artist in recent memory internationally. It’s a large claim to make, but an act like Donzii truly come every once in a lifetime, and we are grateful to be living in the same era of music as this incredible band.

https://donzii.bandcamp.com/

Jaialai (Psychedelica/Alternative)

(Photo: go.cuna)

While the sound have been a local flavor favorite, we got our first powerful dose of the sound live, at 1306 Miami earlier this year and it was something unlike anything else we’ve seen. Carrying the force of a hurricane inside of a tornadic explosion of guitars, drums and build-up, the performance we viewed consisted of moshing, dreamy visuals and near Renaissance punk vibes, something that is hard to duplicate not due to the sound, but the sheer amount of power it takes to carry such a beautiful weight.

If you have the chance, we highly recommend catching this act in any venue, and watch as you leave out of breath and captivated.

https://jaialaiofficial.bandcamp.com/

The Spoondogs (Rock/Punk)

The Orlando based sound helped to close out Bumblefest 2019, and demonstrated a performance so great, it never left our mind.

Take The Rolling Stones, Warsaw and just a touch of surf-esque orchestration and you have a truly potent mixture that could fit in any decade and still bring the crowd to a absolute frenzy, something they did to a full house of the Patio Stage in Respectable Street, having those in attendance so enthralled, some stood on tables just to get a glimpse of the hailstorm of guitars that the act wield so well, both live and in recording. If you’re a fan of the above examples, Robert Plant in his prime or classic punk in general, we recommend listening in all methods, ways and feelings possible.

https://spoondogs.bandcamp.com/releases

Tape Studies (Post/Instrumental Rock)

Let us tell you a story of romance, ambition, love, the feeling of falling and a thousand sunsets; or better yet, let Tape Studies do it for you. We have expressed our endless respect for the post-rock genre due the basis of composition being that of a storybooks. The unspoken words of feeling itself, and all those moments you didn’t quite know what to say, wishing instead that music would flow out of your lungs. The Northern Florida trio are this exactly, and after watching them perform at Will’s Pub, they also embody the belief that while an orchestra can fill a room, a group with passion can act as a hundred orchestras; something they do effortlessly. With a new album in the works, we greatly look forward to the opportunity of seeing the act again, and we await for you to do the same.

https://tapestudies.bandcamp.com/releases

In Motion (Post-Hardcore/Emo)

While the trio have been on our list since mid-2019, they are also our pick for the Best Album of 2019. The post-hardcore genre is one that, while often seen, is very scarcely done right justice and we are proud to say that it’s one they not only excel in, but have brought back incredible light back into. Having seen the act perform as both an unplanned trio and in it’s complete package, we have been thoroughly astounded each and every performance by the wall of enormous sound the Hobe Sound based produce. It’s not hard to see the trio truly love what they do, and we love watching them.

https://inmotionfl.bandcamp.com/

Glass Body (Punk)

This Miami sound is one you read about in the history books. The kind you see in black and white pictures of bands you wish you were able to see, giving performances that seem to bleed sound from image alone and you wish on the stars above you could have viewed. And we’re happy to say, you can and you must. Performing in the small, intimate space of Kismet Vintage in West Palm Beach, the trio are pure, and pardon our language, fucking amazing punk. With incredible Pixies-esque drones meets Sex Pistols explosion, frontwoman/bassist Bridget helps orchestrate performances that are a legendary joy to watch, and one we hope you’ll carve into your concert tablets in 2020…

https://glassbody.bandcamp.com/

Kalistik (Metal/Doom)

(Photo: Keith McCullough)

With the debut EP freshly released, and wonderfully, darkly seductive, the Winter Haven group while fresh on our list, are not one to be taken lightly. Having made their powerful debut performance at Jessie’s Lounge (the videos of which can be seen on their Facebook page), they became one of our Florida Project acts simply due to the intensity of the performance. Bringing 70’s post-punk, doom and just the slightest touch of psychedelic elements in an impressive whirl, they are an act we cannot wait to get more in the coming year and are grateful we can jam to on our earbuds in the meantime…

https://kalistik.bandcamp.com/releases

Death of a Deity (Thrash/Metal)

(Photo: Jenelle DeGuzman)

The metal scene is one that thrived in 2019, due in part of the incredible acts that have emerged in genre in the past year alone. And while our next picks have been favorites of the South Florida scene, after having the pleasure of seeing the Loxahatchee based act perform at Propaganda Lake Worth late this past year, they make our list for the sheer of power they hold in their ferocious chemistry.

With a swirling, impressive storm of guitars and Abe Cunningham meets John Bonham-esque drums, they succeed in the difficult task of checking of not just one, but all marks of a great rock show: Heavy, orchestrated chaos, headbanging worthy composition and most importantly, enjoying every moment of it, while having all those in their grasp feel the same. With a new album on the horizon, and the preview of those tracks shared during their live performances solidifying our belief in DOAD being one of the great live acts in Florida, we cannot wait to headbang again.

https://deathofadeity.bandcamp.com/

Rose Dickeson (Pop/Jazz)

One of the last, great and most promising examples of the power of, to quote Prince’s album, a piano and a microphone, the effortless composition that radiates from the Port Saint Lucie duo is an unforgettable of Fiona Apple earnesty, Regina Spektor vocals and the soul of Nina Simone, they are an act that are vastly underrated and incredibly potent. If you have a chance to see the act perform, it’s one we highly advise not passing, as they offer experience in the shape of sonic roses you’ll never forget the scent of.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=op53J4l1TV4

Makoto (Instrumental/Math Rock)

Our final selection for this list, will not be met with the usual “last but not least” blush response but calculated reasoning. The Southern Florida based act are the final cut on our list for the same reasoning that fireworks cap off another rotation around the Sun; for the power lightning storm that roars into the night, and what better way to describe the act than this? As we spoke of in our review of Bumblefest, we thoroughly believe that they should have been given a headline set and we believe 2020 will see them perform that slot at festivals both near and far, for the incredible, anthemic performances they emanate both in record and live. Makoto deliver the types of performances that have your feet sore from jumping, hair in a tizzy from rocking out and most importantly, leave you breathless. It’s a talent they are as skilled at as they are in composing near perfect rock orchestrations. And one we know, will leave you in awe.

https://makoto.bandcamp.com/

We hope you fill your heart with great, new and wonderful music in the new decade. And now, to quote a certain wizard, “ Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”

-Jenelle DeGuzman

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ghost-chance · 5 years

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PTSD confessions - Panic is contagious...and it’s not your fault.

When I was first diagnosed with PTSD, I never imagined all the unanswerable questions it would give me, or all the dilemmas it would bring. Today brought a reminder of one such dilemma. Since my ‘anniversary’ is coming up soon (in May) I’ve been posting and talking more about PTSD than usual. It’s not always easy, but I remember what it was like when I first started fighting it. I remember having all these questions and being afraid to ask them...and if opening up about my experiences helps even one person feel less like they’re alone, then it’s worth the struggle of recounting it.

Panic attacks aren’t exclusive to PTSD - they can occur with other problems like phobias, anxiety disorders, and more - and though this post literally has PTSD written all over it, it applies to other causes of panic attacks, too.

I’m not the best at wording things at times - an indirect result of PTSD, unfortunately, is attention, focus, and concentration difficulties - so please understand if this comes across as rambling or a little off. If you read this and want to talk, I’m up for it - just PM me or Ask with your name attached. (No anonymous Asks, please.)

Panic attacks are overwhelming.

When you’re having a panic attack, you can lose sight of what’s going on around you. It’s not because you become blind to it, but because you become too attuned to it. Every little detail, from the vital to the most trivial, grabs your attention at the same time and shakes it like a dog playing tug-of-war. Everything swarms you at once - the trigger for your panic attack, the smell of the burger joint nearby, the song playing on someone’s radio, the color of the sky, the pounding of your heart and the crawling of your skin - it’s sensory overload.

Your panic attacks don’t just affect you.

With all that tactile information registering at once and all the chemicals and nerves firing off in your brain, it’s easy to lose sight of the people around you and their reactions. You don’t necessarily see if people are concerned about you or if they’re frightened by your behavior. You don’t consider how other people might be affected by your panic, or how they might respond, or what problems they may be fighting themselves. You’re trapped in a state of fight, freeze, or flight, frantically wavering between the three and constantly second-guessing and berating yourself; other people are the last thing on your mind.

Your panic response can trigger others’ panic response.

It’s Spring in Missouri, and Spring means storms. Earlier today, I got a frantic call from a relative out of the blue. There’s a tornado warning out - you’ve got to get home, you’ve got to get to safety. There was much more to it and I could hear this person trying to hide the physical symptoms of the panic attack they were tipping into. A racing heart-rate makes your voice shaky, an adrenaline boost raises the pitch and volume, hyperventilation leads to talking faster to get words out in your limited amount of air - the signs are all there if you know what to look for. There was no tornado warning for our city or county - it was off to the southeast of us - but there’s still the possibility for tornadic storms to hit our area. It is, after all, Spring in Missouri, and we both have varying degrees of PTSD due to the same monster storm. A large portion of my hometown developed PTSD after that storm, and even years later, people are still affected by the trauma they endured.

Contagious fear can cause relapses in your recovery.

Before that call, I was already aware of the weather and possible threat - I was out in the rain and had just checked my phone for any new warnings. I had my discomfort under control even after finding the “tornado warning for X county” message and catching a glimpse of cloud-to-ground lightning in the distance. After that call, I started getting shaky and losing grip on my own calm; my heart-rate, adrenaline, and pulse spiked, and I found my eyes darting from cloud to cloud in search of a threat that was several counties away. Fortunately, this ain’t my first rodeo - I know how to handle it. I sat my ass down, dropped my head to my knees, dug my nails into my wrist to block out the fear with physical discomfort, and took several deep measured breaths. A few minutes later, I was level again - irritated at myself for being swept away, sure, that’s pretty normal for me - but I managed to avoid spiraling into an actual panic attack. I managed to cut it off before it got beyond a low-four on the 1-10 high-low anxiety scale.

People don’t heal at the same pace.

If this relative in question is willing to do the necessary work, they can learn to cut off their panic attacks as well. For now, they’re stuck in the denial stage; they may never conquer their trauma because they may never be ready to admit they need help. It breaks my heart...but it’s not my right to demand they take care of themselves, and it’s not my place to try and ‘fix them.’ When they ask for help, I do, but I’m not going to butt in unless they begin literally endangering themselves and others.

Panic attacks don’t happen in a vacuum.

When you have a panic attack, it doesn’t just affect you - you’re not a fish in a bowl in a room full of other, separate fishbowls. The symptoms of your panic can and usually do affect others no matter how hard you try to prevent it. People will be uncomfortable, they’ll worry; some will be irritated or frightened, mistaking your behavior as stupid, irrational, crazy, or even threatening. They may assume you’re a danger to yourself or to others, or even become confrontational. Aside from these reactions, there’s another messy fact: fear is contagious. When your fears take over and your panic symptoms become visible, others in the area with anxiety of their own can be triggered by your panic...and you may never realize it until long after it’s over...when you do realize it, you’ll want to kick yourself for not noticing. DON’T. Just don’t even go there, it will only hurt you in the long run.

You are responsible for you - no one else, just you.

Although your symptoms can affect those around you, that is not your fault. You can’t control the reactions of others, especially not when you’re struggling to control your own reactions. You aren’t responsible for the way others respond, only for what you do. Eventually, when you begin to get your panic attacks under control and become able to calm or stop them before they get out of hand, you’ll be able to be proactive about how you may be affecting others. You can teach yourself methods and habits to protect yourself and others, and keep your fears from spreading. In fact, I highly encourage that...but if you can’t manage it, or you aren’t ready, pushing yourself to do so will only set you back. It’s like trying to put out a skillet fire by smashing a lid on it - you’re trapping the fire (your panic) inside with the fuel and air (the triggered responses and your body’s physical and chemical responses.) You have to cut off what feeds the fire before you can put it out.

You can’t stop panic by adding to it.

Your fears, however irrational or illogical they may be, are still valid fears - there’s a reason you’re afraid and chances are it’s not your fault. You owe it to yourself to focus on you when your world feels like it’s falling down. If you react to a building panic attack by worrying about how you’re affecting others or focusing on what they’re thinking, that’s focus you’re not putting toward using your coping skills and stopping that panic in its tracks. If your house is on fire, you don’t have time to worry about your neighbors being bothered by your smoke detectors going off - you do what you need to and leave it at that. The rest will fall into place once your life isn’t in danger.

Forget the neighbors for now - your priority is putting out the blaze. Need a hand? I have a fire extinguisher to spare.

#PTSD #actually ptsd #PTSD recovery #panic attacks #mental health support

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