#Storm talk

[dark-elf-writes]

Odysseus after ten years of suffering, picking up Poseidon’s trident: Traumatize them back :)

Poseidon: Hey… Buddy… can we talk about this?

Odysseus: No :)

[slayfk]

posting here because this just doesn’t feel right to talk about in the horseimagebarn voice but this is extremely important to talk about.

my partner and i have returned to our hometown to stay with her family and my own has gotten a hotel here too (they moved to the town we currently live in after we did) so we are all safe and out of the thick of it

however there are tens of thousands of people who are not both in my own town and in the many surrounding it. appalachia will take an extremely long time to recover from this and there are more storms on the way. all i see on social media right now is people asking for shelter because their homes have been destroyed, or people asking for help searching for family members who are missing. hundreds of trees have fallen. hundreds of homes have flooded. roads are literally falling apart. preexisting sinkholes due to shitty pipes are opening up and consuming land. dams are on the verge of bursting and the only way to stop it is to release water so quickly it floods whole towns. all but one of our cell towers are down, so only people with at&t have service and the rest can’t contact anyone. over half the town still doesn’t have power. a major water supply issue occurred and the entire town is on a water boil order with no electricity to boil with. people are trapped in their homes and workplaces or out on the street because they have nowhere to go. law enforcement is blocking off roads but trapping people in the process. people have to be rescued by helicopter. our animal shelter has no water or power and boarding facilities have been flooded. entire villages like chimney rock nc are gone, and entire cities like asheville are cut off from the rest of the state and are completely inaccessible. ALL OF THE ROADS IN WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA ARE CLOSED. 400+ roads are closed because they are unsafe . that is INSANE!!!

when people say that climate change isn’t real, they don’t know what they’re talking about. climate change and its father capitalism are only going to continue to worsen lives in every way possible. i live in the mountains and our infrastructure is completely unprepared to handle hurricanes and it’s only going to get worse. it’s such a strange and eye-opening experience to live something like this when you think that it could never happen to you because that type of weather shouldn’t reach you in your environment. climate change doesn’t care where you live. it’s real.

western north carolina and the rest of the southeast that has been hit by helene need help. more people need to be talking about this so that the government DOES SOMETHING because the government historically fucking hates appalachia and it still does!!! the major state institution near me took DAYS to respond despite being the only place in town with power and wifi connection because they had to wait for the state to approve their response—they could have allowed thousands of people to evacuate days prior to the hurricane hitting us but they didn’t do anything before or after until it was too late!!! it’s bullshit!!! PLEASE get talking about this because something has to be done. climate change is going to continue happening and our mountains and the people in them are going to suffer immensely. hundreds if not thousands are now homeless. please talk about this look at the footage online of the wreckage and look how quickly our infrastructure crumbled. we need better. the people of appalachia deserve better.

i’ll get back to posting horses soon. but for now this is a lot. my friends are homeless and my family had to get off the mountain or be trapped there without power and water for days. we’re all safe but exhausted. i hope everyone who has been affected by this is staying safe. if you are in western nc, dm me. when i come back, if you’re in my area, im happy to bring supplies. stay safe everyone

[cowboylikeyouu]

in germany, chris evan‘s roles (including steve) are mostly voiced by dennis schmidt-foß, but as johnny storm he‘s voiced by benedikt weber, and it made for a really cool moment during dp&w. bc wade’s super convinced that he‘s steve, but all the german people who watch the german dub of marvel movies religiously are already like huh??? bc that‘s NOT steve rogers‘ voice, and then when it’s revealed that he‘s actually johnny, wade‘s like "ah yeah, i should’ve known from the voice". and idk, it’s not hilarious or anything, but it just made me soo happy that they used wade‘s 4th wall breaks differently in different languages. just felt the need to share this

[yashley]

As you all step out, what do you see?  (episode 111 spoiler:)

[bookalicent]

yeah so this was insane

[meamiki]

silly comic based on a time i struggled to read live on stream :thumbsup:

context clip compilation below ASDASDFASA

(cw for brief mention of hospitals/strokes)

[randompolykin]

i feel a similar way about being a storm

I am a gray little cloud, but eventually I become one with other clouds and we become a storm. And I can't really be just a cloud without being also just a storm itself. (Well this is how I feel, and I couldn't see it being another way for me, but you can have another experience) And there is definitely a divinity to it. That's definitely on the same level as my (fallen) angel kintype(s) because of this greater than myself thing I was apart of, but not anymore. Being apart of a storm...it's a sort of divinity that can not be fully described by that word. I miss it a lot. Even though I have no idea if it was ever mind

Hey dude!! Thanks for always liking my posts! You rock!! 😸 I think you’re super cool btw! Being a fellow cat AND a thunderstorm too?? That rocks!!! How did you discover you were a thunderstorm? Does the feeling tie into being a griffin too since griffins can fly and thunderstorms are above ground, or are they more separate feelings?

Sorry for not answering this sooner! I saw your question and I had to think about it for a WHILE.

Extremely Long Ramble below:

So, I’m still not sure if I actually am a thunderstorm itself, but I’ve always (like, since I was a kit) been extremely connected to storms and other such weather. Whenever it’s stormy out, or just “bad weather” (the best kind of weather) like hail or rain, I cant help but smile ridiculously. I love it so much and I associate myself strongly with it.

Additionally, as you said, me being a gryphon gives me another layer of deep love for and connection to the sky and its weather. Something interesting I’ve found is that I (as a gryphon) consider myself under the umbrella of dragon, though moreso dragonfolk than anything, and (being a werecat), I see myself in most big cats (& larger lesser cats). As a werecat, I carry many lion and mountain lion traits- including my build and coloration. So, I find it fascinating that I associate thunderstorms with these creatures. Did I project myself onto them, or did they leave an imprint on me?

In a bit more detail, storms always felt like they embodied the archetypical role of a lion or a dragon- like how a thunderstorm can purr or roar, how it can shake the sky, and is, in general, animalistic. Weather always seemed like a living thing to me (in a way).

It’s also always been interesting that I, as both a sub-arctic gryphon and a cold weather feline (with thick fur & feathers) am so well suited to storms. The storms I’m used to are cold and biting, and I, in a body that is without my true fur or feathers, somehow was born with all of the features I need to endure the cold and wind. As an avian and a feline, I should have thick integument, ample fat reserves, and thick skin to insulate me. And somehow, despite being born into a body that is neither of these creatures, I have these things. Out of most people I knew, I’ve always been uniquely suited for harsh weather and cold environments that perfectly match my hearthome- the habitat I should be in.

I’m not spiritual in any way, yet the perfect alignment of my shape and the ability to enjoy the storms I so love is amazing. I’m a bird whose literally meant to hold and be held by the sky, and despite it being unable to reach me here, I still carry the traits that show I belong to it. Being so intertwined with something like that, in both love for it and design for it, often makes it difficult to distinguish between it and myself. When a bird is flying in the sky, being lifted by both its own wings and the sky’s updrafts/winds, is it strange to not separate the two? When I fly (if I COULD) we’re the same entity, I am a bird up in the sky- in a storm- just as I am the storm and the sky carrying a bird within it.

That interconnectedness often leaves me with a feeling similar to an almost animalistic angel. Since I am both myself and the storm, it’s difficult to perceive the whole of me without losing part of it from your field of view. Having my feathers, my talons, my wings, and pairing those with something as ever shifting as a storm gives the impression of an angel, despite me being perfectly mundane. It makes me feel bigger than myself, which is a sensation similar to the divinity(?) of a fallen angel- changed, but not fallen too far (aligned with earth). I fill that grey space that often drives humans to apotheosis, something large and impactful, but not supernatural. Like how some people say a supercomputer or the interconnected root system of a forest is an “angel”. I’m not divine, deific, or angelic, just large and interwoven between the parts of myself.

Being dragonkith as well gives a sense of belonging with the large growling things of the sky (not saying all dragons must be large or flighted, but those are the ones I relate my storm + self form to). As a gryphon on my own, I am a creature (or even a critter)- barely bigger than a bobcat and only intimidating towards small rodents and leporids- but in tandem with a storm, I am a beast, a force to be reckoned with (a dragon, in a sense).

I haven’t found a label that encompasses my “connected -> being” feeling that I have for storms and the sky, and despite attempting to make my own label, nothing fits. So, I just say that I’m a thunderstorm- even though that doesn’t even begin to cover or properly convey being sense of being.

So, yeah! I’m a thunderstorm, both distinct from my gryphon-ness and because of it!

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

theyre so good

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

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

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

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then,

then,

something changed.

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

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

And suddenly his parents were human again.

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

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

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

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

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

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

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

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

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

The sight had scared him.

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

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

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

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

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

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

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

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

[longmaxsilvarg]

me when i'm in a who's social interactions keep them up all night more competition and chloe's my opponent

[eternalmomentss]

Loved the Zeru and Orym talk for so many reasons but I am particularly insane about the fact that - in that moment - Orym, who has always burdened himself with the task of protector and guardian and who took it upon himself to keep everyone safe, seems to fully accept, maybe for the first time, that "he'll be looking out for me" with the fondest, warmest understanding in his voice. There is so much trust and love involved there. And of course he will keep his eyes on Dorian at all times, even when he sleeps, but he also accepts that he can let someone else protect him too. And that's him, it always has been.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[hello-eeveev]

I have to wonder if Essek’s heartbreaker comment wasn’t also based on picking up on Dorian and Orym’s pretty-intense-but-not-explicitly-defined vibes that were happening and going, “oh you are handsome and awkward and in love with a Liam O’Brien PC in Aeor? been there. make good choices!”

[risky-witchy]

Thinking about the new episode of cr and about Dorian and Orym but I’ve seen a lot of people making jokes about Dorian’s dad seeing everyone intrusive themselves and is like ‘wtf is that my son’ and so true so valid but consider.

You are the father of the Wyvernwinds, a family who essentially serves as royalty in their culture. Several years ago your youngest left, likely against your wishes, and just a short period of time ago your oldest dies, and now all of the worlds leaders are gathering to develop a plan to deal with a potential Calamity level event. You spot someone who looks similar to your only living son. He is then a part of the group of, frankly, hooligans who are fucked in the head brave and are gonna be the main task force against this event and summons your goddamn wyvern dragon horse, while wearing the sluttiest outfit you’ve ever seen, as well as a sending stone that matches with the halfling who approached you after who very clearly is fond of your son. Not to mention he doesn’t go by his birth name and title but is wearing gold to symbolize the death of his older brother. What would you do then

[mutantjellybeans]

Johnny Storm (celebrity with years of media experience and a number of scandals with a massive PR team) and Peter Parker (extremely bitchy broke photographer from queens with no media training) are hopelessly and disastrously in love and it is unfortunately everyone’s problem

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Hello, your resident comic girl checking in. Here's a reminder that Reed and Sue are IN LOVE (and horny for each other). So, let's prepare ourselves accordingly for seeing Vanessa and Pedro doing this next year.