#wda: earthquake

[manwalksintobar]

if we’ve gotta live underground and everybody’s got cancer/ will poetry be enuf?  // Eisa Davis to Ntozake Shange

         dear ntozake,

I got sacks of mercury under the skin beneath my eyes either cried too much or i’m abt to the cool war’s burnin up my retina again does poetry start where life ends? i know i’m supposed to be cool: i wear corrective lenses that feature high definition tragedy. baby in the dumpster       ethnic cleansing assassinations       multinational mergers i’m supposed to shake my head write a poem believe in ripples. but i ain’t cool. i emit inhuman noises i imagine terrorist acts as i flick my imaginary ash onto the imaginary tray i imagine going insane with a purpose and writing it down feels sorta unnecessary does poetry end where life begins? berkeley girl       black girl        red diaper baby born of the blood of the struggle but with reaganomics and prince pickin up steam in ‘81 nothing came between me and my calvins 10 yrs old       unpressed hair       playin beethoven readin madeleine l’engle       got scared in my pants when i heard this girl testifying ‘TOUSSAINT’ in the black repertory group youth ensemble i was just sittin in a rockin chair pretendin to be 82 and talkin like I knew all bout langston’s ‘rivers’

i wasn’t as good as her and i definitely wadn’t cool so i gave up drama and decided to bake soufflés zake you wda beat me up in the playground if we’da grown up together and you did eighth grade       ‘he dropped em’ at the regional oratorical competition i saw another fly honey rip it this time it’s ‘a nite with beau willie brown’ i was bleedin on the ground i became yours no more soufflés i jacked for colored girls right off my mama’s shelf my mama fania who was sweatin with you and raymond sawyer and ed mock and halifu osumare dancin on the grass       back in the day in you i found a groove never knew i had one like that did that monologue over and over alone in my room my bunk bed the proscenium arch 13 yrs old       screamin and cryin abt my kids gettin dropped out a window didn't know a damn thing about rivers but i knew abt my heart fallin        five stories you were never abbreviated or lower case to me you just pimped that irony that global badass mackadocious funkology you not only had hígado you had ben-wa balls in yr pussy

betsey brown on my godmother's couch nappy edges in mendocino at the mouth of big river spell #7 after the earthquake in silverlake the love space demands had to be in brooklyn yr poems are invitations to live in yr body love letters yr admirers dream they coulda written themselves no one cd find a category that was yr size blackety black but never blacker than thou you teased me into sassiness when i had none to speak of made profane into sacred but never formed a church sanctified women's lives whether we were reading nietzsche or a box of kotex we were magical and regular you many-tongued st louis woman of barnard and barcelona you left us the residue of yr lust left us to wander life as freely as sassafrass cypress and indigo and even the unedumacated could get yr virtuosity cuz you always fried it up in grease you built an aqueduct from lorraine hansberry's groundwater and it bubbled straight to george c wolfe you never read what the critics said and you scrunched up the flesh between yr eyebrows like everybody else in my family

but zake is poetry enuf?

i beg the question cuz you grew me up you    and adrienne kennedy     and anna deavere smith and all my mothers you blew out the candles on my 26th so when there's mercury under the skin beneath my eyes and the world ain't so cool do you write a poem or a will?

like leroi jones said     if bessie smith had killed some white people she wouldn't have needed that music so do we all write like amiri baraka does or do we all get our nat turner on?

i beg the question cuz i wanna get my life right do some real work and i really don't want to kill any white folk i mean     can we talk abt this maybe it's just my red diaper that's itchin but i still got that will to uplift the race sans bootstraps or talented tenths or paper bag tests this time we uplift the human race and i know the rainbow might be but is poetry enuf?

it's a naive question but i'm old enuf to ask them once in a while if we do finally unload the canon clean it out stock up on some more colorful balls ain't we only gettin the ones that are available at a store near you? doesn't the market end up setting the new standards anyway? is poetry enuf if it ain't sellin? if ain't nobody readin it? can poetry keep a man     who can't read from droppin his kids out a window?

and how can i call a ceasefire to this cool war in stanzas of eights when we've declared poetry a no fly zone? we have learned to protect it and its potential politics like a mother shoot down anyone who might overdetermine a poem's meaning (while we poets divebomb everyone else's politics with impunity like we're the United States or something)

if poetry is just poetry we save it from the conservatives but doesn't that mean it's of no use to the progressives?

is poetry enuf? cuz that's all i'm doin. makin up stories    on stage     on the page keepin the beat and that's all my friends are doin and that's what a lot of folks my age are doin

but if we've gone and burnt up everything in the sky if there's nothin else to eat but landfill stroganoff if we've gotta live underground and everybody's got cancer will poetry be enuf?

my aunt angela says i can do my thang and keep swinging left hooks to oppression if i stay up stay into it stay involved just one form of praxis will do. it's just my guilt that thinks i need twenty-two what's enuf?

shouldn't i (or somebody) be our secular bodhisattva become a real power player but skip the talk show can't we stabilize, rekindle collectives and cooperatives and collaborations therapeutic communities that double as creative juggernauts a publishing house     a theatre where the plays cost less than the movies get the neighborhood coven back together take dance breaks in the cubicles sing until the flourescent lights burst into snow i ask you because you changed me zake you changed thousands of women and i know poetry can't be enuf if you drunk

i ain't tryin ta walk off wid alla yr stuff and i got nuttin but love for ya so that's why i gotta know i'm sittin on my bed encircled by every book you've ever published they're open like fans marking pages with the flint of genius all i want is for this circle to grow so tell me:

is this where poetry and life are twins? i felt so crumpled up when i started writing you poetry seemed so useless and dingy next to all the bright red bad news but now that the poem is over i feel wide open like an infant of the spring just tell me how to feed this light to my responsibilities and poetry just might be enuf           love           eisa

#poetry #Eisa Davis #Ntozake Shange #is poetry enuf? #American poetry #feminist poetry #feminism #for colored girls #Amiri Baraka #Leroi Jones #Black American poetry #Bessie Smith #Angela Davis #mothers & daughters #girls & women #politics #poems of protest #poems of rage #growing up #despair #loving the world anyway #letter #advice #letters to a young poet #radical art

[castorsilver]

The minute that the ground had begun to quake, Cas was in survival mode. With Reese at his side, the two dove under a table for cover, and thankfully that quick reaction saved him from most damage. He could feel some bruises forming on his knees where they’d landed harshly against the ground, but he was definitely lucky. The second thought that entered his mind was about Pollux. Was his brother safe? Was he alive? He was poised and ready to open a portal when he felt his phone buzz with a text from his brother, asking if he was alright. Relieved that his brother was okay, and that the most damage he’d had to deal with was some broken furniture and picture frames in their apartment, Cas set about checking on other people. 

“Hey–” he began, speaking gently to the person near him. “Were you hurt? Do you need anything?”

#chat #wda: starter #wda: earthquake #now to reply to starters!!

[wesratcliffe]

Wesley wasn’t sure how long it had been. Minutes, hours, it was impossible to tell. His mind was a haze of fear and pain, mixing like some sadistic cocktail that left a bad taste in his mouth. His legs were splayed out haphazardly in front of him, both of them clearly broken as they were twisted and mangled in an unnatural shape. His head was resting back against a leg of a table, eyes shut as if he was hoping that this was all just a bad dream. Through his fogged brain he heard someone approach, and he cracked an eye open. “Hi...” he mumbled, voice cracked and hoarse from all the screaming he’d done when he’d freed himself. 

#wda: starter #wda: earthquake #unlike anika and cas #i won't be replying to as many starters on wesley #cause he can't walk #i might do some if i can make them work?? #tw gore #tw injury

[brightsunshinybay-archived-blog]

Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa’ darle alegría y cosas buenas…

Bay rolled her eyes as the song came on, wondering exactly how many people knew what this song really meant. She’d looked the lyrics up as part of a dare a few years ago, and the translation still rubbed her the wrong way enough to result in Bay leaving the dance floor as the music began to play.

She was drunk, of course, and a little sweaty, and a little unstable on her feet, but she took the opportunity to look around the room and admire the decorations, moving somewhat closer to the large Christmas tree towards the back. How funny, she thought; it was June, and yet there was still a tree – complete with a large, sparkling star – as one of the main focal points of the event.

It was less than a second after this irony was entering her mind that the ground beneath her moved, slightly. She looked up, eyes widening, as the tree quivered.

Everything happened so quickly after that. There were screams, and people running in all directions, and the intoxicated Bay found herself lost in the shuffle and falling to the ground, face first.

Rolling over onto her back, all the girl could do was watch as the Christmas tree – star and all – came toppling down, directly towards her.

#wda: starter #wda: earthquake #//hi okay so #//here's what's going down: #//this tree is definitely gonna fall onto Bay and trap her under it #//and that star is going straight into her leg #//but you have my permission to do whatever you'd like to as long as those two things happen? #//does that make sense? #//it's late and there's so much angst and gahhh #//but i love this so much #//also still crying about our fallen comrades #//also the MACARENA #//dear lord #tw: injury #tw: blood

[hermescarson]

"you’ve got to help me,” hermes states, as she finally manages to get someone’s attention. “i can not find delilah,” she tells them, the panic in her voice starting to set in, “one minute she was there and the next she was just gone,” she says her eyes widening, “i have to find her!” she says, her voice frantic as she waves her arms around.  suddenly hermes seems to take a turn as she stumbles forward, “i don’t feel so good,” she mumbles as she places her hand on the side of her head, only to pull it away to find a lot of blood, “oops.”

#wda: starter #wda: earthquake #this is meant to be sort of panicky and stuff so it's sort of all over #is delilah really there or is hermes hallucinating?? idk ask vina

[rheawindsor]

@missmcduck

“Sorcha!” They probably (definitely) weren’t at the stage of friendship, yet, where it’d be considered okay to hug the other at any given time (considering Sorcha’s personality, they’d probably never reach that stage) - but the minute Rhea spotted the other girl, she was rushing forward to envelop her in a teary hug, “You’re okay! I was so worried, I...- but it’s okay, cause you’re okay, you’re alive, you’re here-- you’re not hurt, right? You don’t look hurt. Oh my god, am I hurting you?” Even though the idea occurred to her that she might’ve been, though, Rhea didn’t release Sorcha from the hug.

#sorcha #wda: earthquake #friendship ended #cause: hugs

[jaxonprcteus]

JUNE 4TH | WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE EARTHQUAKE

Prom wasn’t exactly Jaxon’s cup of tea.

The idea of it seemed interesting in theory but there was only so much forced interactions he could take before it wasn’t so fun anymore. This year’s excuse was stepping out of his comfort zone, but after a while of willingly taking care of students that were too drunk to function. Both his patience and energy were running low. Not wanting to ruin anyone’s night he decided to take his leave in the middle of the ceremony to what was supposed to be a calm night filled with musicals and dog cuddles. Maybe he should’ve stayed out… maybe if he did that none of it would have happened the way it did.

He was around the middle mark of ‘Chicago’ when it all began.

First, there was a low rumble that seemed to come from the ground itself, this accompanied with the faint cries of his dog were enough to put him on edge. The little ornaments in front of him were swaying softly one second and the next they had pretty much obtained a life of their own. Even if his mind was going twenty miles per second his body didn’t seem to catch up and as a result he didn’t move an inch when everything began to shake violently.

A small trophy in the shelf on top of him fell right on his head and broke with a loud sound. The sharp pain was enough to take him out of the shock, his hand was already on the wound and as soon as he noticed the blood on his fingertips he started to look around for his dog. “Roo?” he called out, his voice filled with worry, sending the dull pain in his head away for a moment. A few barks later and he found her curled up in a hidden corner of the room. He quickly picked her up and decided to take cover under the large table right in the middle of the living room.

Both the walls and the ceiling seemed like they wouldn’t hold for much longer, the cracking sounds didn’t stop and were coming from everywhere. Pieces of the room fell to the floor (and on top of the table) with loud thuds and it seemed like they were getting larger each time. The screams wouldn’t stop and he knew in that moment that no matter how much time passed after that incident he’d never be able to take that sound out of his mind.

Roo moved nervously in his arms and he kept his hold as tight as possible. “We’re gonna be okay, baby calm down.” he wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort her or convince himself; maybe it was a little bit of both. But can anyone blame him? How high were the probabilities of an earthquake happening in Maine of all places. He was so lost, he felt as if his luck was slowly running out.

A large piece of the wall fell right in front of him exposing the steel structure of the room, he hoped and prayed to the stars for him to leave the place untouched; but deep inside there was a part of him that knew that wasn’t going to happen. The cracking sounds continued behind him as well as the unknown sound that seemed to come from the core of the Earth itself; but he was too scared to take a look around him, instead he decided to close his eyes, his head in between his legs, blood dripping down his neck.

Unbeknownst to him, as pieces of the ceiling and walls fell down some of the reinforcement bars inside the structure of the room got bent in a way that made them stick out dangerously.  A large piece of the wall detached from the rest of it and slowly fell down right on top of him. In that exact moment being under the table proved to be both a trap and protection. The table was really useful when it came to supporting the weight so that he wouldn’t. But what could it do against a bunch of sharp steel bars? Nothing. They broke through loudly but with not much resistance. One of them went through the young boy right where his stomach is supposed to be, a second bar went through the table and his arm and the third and final one barely made it to his leg. It was so painful but there was nothing he could do other than painfully whimper and try not to move.

How much time passed since it started? Seconds, hours, minutes? He couldn’t tell and ultimately it didn’t matter, all he wished was for it to stop.

Roo seemed to be crying for him as she desperately licked his face, the warmness of her tongue and the loud barks had kept him awake but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to endure the pain and fight back the sudden urge to sleep that was slowly getting stronger. The amount of blood he had lost so far didn’t help his case either. What was loud screams and crashing sounds before was now merely a whisper, a murmur he couldn’t decipher, the corners of his vision were slowly getting blurry and even though he tried to stay awake with all his might… there was only so much he could take before he couldn’t anymore.

#self para #wda: earthquake #i hate earthquakes sm sigh #this is based on a true story btw i've seen this happening

[jubiibean-blog]

The Yuleball had been thriving for hours now, yet with each passing minute Jubilee was retreating inwardly. Her provocative, luxurious glitter-clad silk dress was breathtaking and even though she left her dorm feeling incredibly confident the bluette had deflated. Shoulders hunched and eyes downcast as everyone around her continued with their fun as if she wasn’t there. In fact, it was a harsh realization that she was very much alone. For two hours she attempted to catch up with other attendees and dance along, yet nobody gave her much besides simple replies and silence. As happy as she tried to be, it was too much. Jubilee had just weaved through the crowd of students on her way out when the room began to shake. Her hands reached for the trim of the doorway to sturdy herself but she fumbled in vain, tripping over herself in her new heels Jubilee fell to the floor as she cried out. Pain shoot up her leg and tears streamed down her face as she pushed herself up from the floor. Then the door to the gym collapsed just a few feet before her, faces disappearing under the debris forever. 

#wda: starter #wda: yuleball #wda: earthquake #// had to link the outfit because I was busy the past couple of days oops #// i missed posting for prom things so this was my compromise plus i had planned on her feeling alone afterwards anyways #// she's just going to be horribly scarred too #// i dunno who else was outside so i just made this starter instead?? #// also she twisted her ankle and probably sprained her wrist i haven't decided that one yet

[oliverbaere-blog]

Oliver blinks a few times, as he slowly turns his head trying to get a better picture of what is going on around him. Unfortunately, his arm is pinned under a large pile of debris which has made it impossible for him to sit up. So instead of trying to move it, he just lays there tears streaming down his face. This is all his fault, if he had just told someone about his dream. Then none of this would have happened, and everyone would be happily dancing the night away. “It’s all my fault,” he mumbles. 

#wda: prom17 #wda: yuleball #if you've read the posts the main sent out you'll see that oliver basically saw the entire thing coming #so naturally he blames himself for it happening #wda: starter #wda: earthquake

[nightmarebeforewyatt-archiv-blog]

{kryptonite} || earthquake pt.2

warnings: blood, injury

~thank you to jade and mikyla for letting manipulate sasha and cinder~

The floor felt like ice underneath him and Wyatt reached for his throbbing head before even opening his eyes. His hair was caked with dried blood, meaning the wound had scabbed over, or so he thought. The pain was incredibly sharp and it took Wyatt a minute to remember why it was there in the first place. Once the first memory of the quake came to him, the rest flooded back quickly. His eyes flew open, chest heaving as he shot up from the floor, sitting with his legs in front of him. “Sasha! Where’s Sasha?!” The way his back ached as he sat up suggested that Wyatt had been laying there unconscious for a few hours, but at this moment nothing else mattered. He tried to get up, but Wyatt was hit by a wave of dizziness. He steadied himself even though his hand was burning from the ice like floor. “Sasha! Has anyone seen Sasha?” His voice cracked, not used to projecting this loud. Suddenly, a warmth spread through his fingers, and he glanced down to see where it came from. His eyes met a small hand wearing red nail polish covering his own. “Sash...” The name escaped his lips with so much longing. “Hey Skeleton Boy. I’m here.” Instead of looking up at her, he leaned into her touch until his head was in her lap. Wyatt couldn’t bare to look at her after what he did to her, so he just rested his head, eyes closed as she ran her fingers through his hair. Everything about her was warm, and despite the pain in his head, Wyatt felt at ease. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Right now, in this particular moment, Wyatt felt perfectly fine— in fact, he didn’t want to move, ever, but he answered Sasha honestly. “I’m in a little pain, but I’m alright. How’s everyone else, your friends?” Wyatt’s eyes shot open again, and for the first time he saw Sasha’s face and the aftermath of the quake. All Wyatt wanted to do was look away, away from the bruises covering her arms, away from the cuts on her face. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, lightly tracing over one of the scratches. I did this to her. I hurt her. The realization ate at Wyatt and he had to look away, he had to get away from her, he couldn’t bare to see her like this. Jerking his hand back, Wyatt turned away from her. Sasha’s body tensed at the loss of Wyatt’s touch. Filled with self-hatred, Wyatt stood up again. “Wyatt! You have to lay down, you need rest.” He heard Sasha’s words, but he was determined to get up, he was determined to get away from her, from the damage he had caused. “I’m fine.” She reached out for him once he was up, ignoring the wave of nausea that churned in his stomach. “Just...leave me alone!” Before Sasha could protest, Wyatt walked away, taking a look at his immediate surroundings. Everything around them was destroyed, peopled were lined up at the edges, wounds being tended to by students. There was no cops, no doctors — only students, and it confused Wyatt. As he looked towards the entrance, it was clear to Wyatt why no one else was here — they were trapped. After a few more steps, blackness clouded Wyatt’s vision and he fell to the ground once more, Sasha screaming his name the last thing he heard. 

The room was dark except for the small glow coming from the television in Wyatt’s dorm. The scent of popcorn was overwhelming and Wyatt was twisting the cap on his water bottle on and off. Carrie was playing, a movie Wyatt had never seen and Sasha had brought over so they could watch it. Bones was laying comfortably between them, snoring light, “Isn’t it great? Tell me it’s not great?” Sasha had been asking every ten minutes or so and Wyatt always had the same reply. “It hasn’t finished yet, so I can’t fully appreciate it yet.” At the response, she would throw a few pieces of popcorn in his direction. Most of the time they would land on Bones and he would wake up long enough to eat them before laying his head back in Sasha’s lap. 

Waking up groggy for the second time, Wyatt winced at the pain in his head. “Sasha, he’s awake.” The voice was extremely familiar and he would recognize it anywhere. “Cinder...don’t. I can’t see her right now.” The words were almost inaudible coming from his mouth, but his long time friend understood them. Wyatt kept his eyes closed. “Sorry. False alarm.” Cinder called out in the opposite direction. “You know you’re going to have to face her eventually. You saved her life.” Saved her? From the ceiling, yes, but from me, no. “I may have saved her from the debris, but I still pushed her into to danger. I still hurt her. I hurt everyone.” Cinder had been through this before. “Skellington, you are so melodramatic.” It was a common phrase for Cinder to say when she was around Wyatt. Because he tended to overthink things, Cinder was always there to pull him away from his thoughts with a sarcastic comment. Wyatt smirked at his long time friend. “Well melodramatic is my middle name according to you. How are you by the way? Are you hurt?” He cracked an eye open, assessing the damages, but it turned out to be nothing more than a few cuts a bruises. Even though he and Cinder didn’t always see eye to eye or hang out as much, especially since they got to WDA, he was concerned about her and if this taught him anything, he wouldn’t avoid his friend anymore. “I’m alright, but I’m more concerned about you. You look like hell, Skellington.” Wyatt shrugged his shoulders as much as he could with still being laid out on the floor, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but the comment did worry him a bit. He’d had his fair share of injuries, but none of them were bad because he didn’t really have a lot of things to break. He was a rag doll, things that would normally be serious for others were minor injuries for Wyatt. This was the exact mindset he had when he pushed Sasha out of the way; he figured anything that happened to him wouldn’t be as bad as what could’ve happened to her. “So how long do I have to cover for you this time?” It wasn’t an odd question for Cinder to ask; she did have a track record of taking the blame for their old shenanigans in Halloweentown, their failed attempts at messing with Oogie Boogie, but in this context, and her tone of voice, made the question strange.  “I’m not sure, I just can’t look at Sasha right now...I can’t look at the dried blood on her face and the blackness painting her arms. Why do you ask?” Cinder chuckled. “You’re girlfriend is walking over.” Wyatt’s eyes flew open and he sat up looking around to see where Sasha was coming from. “She’s not my-” Wyatt started but Cinder had already gotten up off the floor, ready to leave Wyatt and Sasha alone. “Help me up.” It was more of a demand and against Cinder’s better judgement, she reached out and pulled him to his feet. The second Sasha reached the spot where they were standing Cinder took it as her cue to leave, but Wyatt reached out and lightly grabbed her arm. His eyes pleaded for her to stay and so she did. 

They talked for a bit, wondering when the rescue team would arrive, before Wyatt began to feel dizzy for a third time, so he excused himself to go get water. Sasha tried to protest, but Wyatt just shook his head and tired to convince them he was capable of walking. “He can be pretty stubborn sometimes. Best to just let him be.” Cinder stated trying to reassure Sasha. As Wyatt poured himself some water he heard voice on the other side of the blocked entrance. Wondering if he was just hearing things, Wyatt shook his head, trying to fight the newest wave of nausea. Taking a sip of water, Wyatt turned on his heels to make his way back over to the girls, but a large crash followed by a low rumble caught his attention. Everyone in the ballroom turned towards the entrance just in time to see the recuse team break through the debris. Whatever they had done to break through sent a few small pieces of the collapsed columns his way. “Wyatt look out!” Something hit him in the head, sending a new kind of pain that ran from his head to his spine. His hand, now completely out of his control, released the cup of water sending it plummeting to the ground, Wyatt following shortly after. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with him? Please help him. Please somebody!” Sasha was screaming, tears running down her face. “Ms. De Vil, we are doing everything we can.” She knew they were, but she felt like it wasn’t enough.“I don’t understand. I heard one of the doctors say ‘coma’. Is it true?” The doctors had safely strapped Wyatt’s seemingly lifeless body to the gurney and were now putting him into the ambulance. The doctor that had spoken to her before, now wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “Is it?” Her voice cracked with fear. “Why won’t you answer me? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” Cinder was still standing by frozen in her spot as she watched her friend being placed in an ambulance. “Wyatt? Wyatt can you hear me?” 

Everything was cold, and there was a metallic taste in the air. He wasn’t sure how he got here, but one thing was for sure — Wyatt was strapped to Dr. Finkelstein’s table. A very quiet voice called out his name and he couldn’t quite make out who it was. He tried to struggle and call out for Sasha, but nothing was working. He had no control over his body; it was like he was trapped in his mind. 

“Someone please remove Ms. De Vil from the scene. We need to transport Mr. Skellington to the hospital.” Sasha was reaching for Wyatt, completely distraught at the lack of information she was getting. Cinder came and pulled her back, politely shushing her. “Cinder, please. Let me go. I have to go with him. What if something happens? He can’t leave me. I have to go!” Sasha tried to escape her grasp, but Cinder was stronger than she looked. “Sasha, calm down. I’ll drive you to the hospital. We will follow the ambulance. Just please relax.” Finally calming down, Sasha nodded in Cinder’s direction. “Where’s your car?” 

#i'd rather feel pain than nothing at all || self para #sp: kryptonite #wda: earthquake #trigger warnings #tw: injuries #tw: blood

[rylie-barton]

4.6.2017

Rylie didn’t even want to be at prom.

Two years ago, it’d been exciting. A year ago, something to kill the time. Now, it was just a hassle dressing up in a fancy outfit, just to mill around sipping punch that was supposed to be non alcoholic, all the while watching happy couples sway on the dancefloor. No, thanks - she’d pass. It wasn’t really something she wanted to waste a night doing anymore -

Except, Alex was back in her dorm room, and, she’d take a night wasted than a night back there. He was like a bad cold - she couldn’t shake him, no matter how hard she tried. Though the night before hadn’t gone the way she’d imagined his return would go... nothing was fixed. She hadn’t forgiven him. He’d left, and she had so much she wanted (and, in a way, needed) to say... but in true Rylie Barton fashion, she chose getting drunk at prom over having it out with him. 

At least she’d had an outfit, just in case.

The night was, unsurprisingly, nothing special. Or, maybe it was, and the wow factor just didn’t work on Rylie anymore. She had to admit that the prom committee had outdone themselves with the decorations, and the idea to have the prom royals represent the champions was kinda cute, but... she didn’t have the same wide eyed reaction as someone of the other students who walked through the doors with her. Nor did she really go out of her way to get involved in the festivities, which was probably a huge part of her problem. Prom was simply a way to get out of her invaded dorm (which, hopefully, would be empty by the time she returned), and so, she made a beeline for the punch and stayed pretty close to that table for the first half of the night. She clapped when the royals were announced, she politely declined a few offers to dance, and when her cup emptied, she refilled it pretty snappily. 

She wasn’t having fun, but, she was at least filling up the minutes. 

The thing was, though, that by not getting involved in everything going on... she was a lot more aware of what was happening. She wasn’t distracted on the dancefloor or otherwise - she was just watching everything, taking it all in, listening. That was how she knew something was happening - her cup did a little shimmy on the table before her, and beneath her feet, the ground rumbled.

That wasn’t good.

Her gaze flitted around the ballroom. Like her, a few students had frozen - they seemed a little apprehensive, like they’d felt it, too, but were unsure what it could be, but for the most part.... the dance continued as normal. Seconds passed. That was all it boiled down to - seconds, and then, the ballroom began to shake. 

Rylie had only experienced an earthquake once before in her life. She was on a mission in Mexico and, they were about halfway through when the ground had done that same, shuddery shake. It hadn’t been too serious, really - a few seconds and it was over, the damage minimal. But she remembered the feeling. The sudden fear, that it might be worse than what it seemed. She recalled being told over her com to duck beneath a table, immediately, but it’d been done before she could. 

This wasn’t the same as that earthquake. This, she could tell within the very first moment, was serious, and though her mind was slow to catch up, it immediately went to her fellow students. Rylie jumped up from her chair, shocked into action, and with no thought at all began to grab students by their shoulders and arms and even just the fabric of their outfits, shouting above the growing noise and telling them to get beneath any of the tables in the ballroom. Instead of joining the sea of students trying to reach the door, she went against them - fighting to get the opposite way. In stood to reason that people would get lost in the crowd, get knocked down and crushed, get forgotten about... and Rylie wouldn’t have it. 

They came first.

Decorations began to fall. The ground continued to shake. Rylie moved further and further down the ballroom, grabbing people to pull them up from where they’d fallen and urging them in the direction of safety, the only safety they’d reach. She was keeping her focus on the danger from above - the ground wasn’t going to quake open, but, the ceiling might just cave. That was the fear. Support beams and plaster from that height could knock someone clean out of it... could kill someone, if they were heavy enough. She was keeping her focus high -

And that’s how she knew when the chandelier was on it’s way down. She was near enough to the middle of the ballroom and thus, the light fixture, to close the distance in a few strides and begin waving people that had been beneath it away, shouting at them what she’d shouted at everyone, so far - get beneath something. They paid heed. A circle was cleared on the ballroom floor, the light avoided. 

But, swinging in place, violently, the cracks in the ceiling around it had only grown as she’d cleared the area. A whole chunk of the plaster around it fell away and crashed down not a foot from her - and that seemed to be the catalyst for its descent. Loose enough, finally, it shuddered - and it fell.

She’d expected it. She’d known it was coming, even, as sure as the morning ahead of them, and she’d been prepared for the inevitable dive out of the way. She just hadn’t been prepared for a slight miscalculation... a major miscalculation, really. The light was larger than she’d thought - she almost cleared it, but one of the branches slammed into her. 

Instead of rolling, safely, and remaining relatively unharmed, Rylie crashed to the ground. She didn’t have the time to pull in her limbs, the distance too short to hope to do so, anyway. Her head, not protected the way it should have been, cracked against the floor and her vision, immediately, went black. How long she was out for, she didn’t know - seconds, minutes, hours, it was all the same. All that mattered was when she came back to consciousness, her head throbbing painfully while black spots danced across her vision... was that the quake had stopped. It was deathly silent save for the ringing in her right ear -

That is, until the panicked screams started up again. 

#self para #wda: earthquake #do urselves a favor.. dont put urself thru this #its too late and i am not proofreading #all u need to kno is rylie has just kind of (u know; super lowkey) fractured her skull #.. and its rendered her deaf 1 ear #:-) #deaf in 1 ear #fck my life

[cohenxbarbossa]

“Oh my god,” Cohen mumbled, sitting at a seat in a local restaurant, another fork full of food quickly making its way towards her mouth. “I haven’t eaten this well... well, ever. This whole “town devastated by earthquake” thing is the most amazing situation I've ever been in. I don’t have a damn scratch on me and I get free food. It doesn’t get better than this- it really doesn’t.” Cohen was never this talkative, but having a free plate of food and full stomach definitely improved her typical mood. 

#wda: starter #i deleted the old starter i posted bc i wanted to redo it #now that ive caught up w all the earthquake stuff i feel like this makes more sense #but anyways hello its me lexie #back again

[forrestfull-bailey]

ok who requested earthquake by labrinth

#i love this song #bUT I ONLY JUST GOT IT #EARTHQUAKE #FOR WDA #HAKJDBJVAJ I LOVE U

[brightsunshinybay-archived-blog]

2:37 AM, June 5th.

If a tree falls down in the middle of a ballroom and a small blonde is in its path, does it make a sound?

It all felt like a blur.

Bay wasn’t even entirely sure what was happening and what wasn’t now, her sense of reality jumbled from a mix of pain, shock, and fear. It was all a mess of colors and faces – those with minor injuries and their wits about them running around and attempting to check in with those who seemed immobile, or incapacitated, and Bay was certainly included in the latter category.

Bay remembered someone moving the tree away from her body, although she couldn’t recall who, but perhaps that wasn’t the best thing – seeing was believing, which meant Bay could no longer deny the truth: though the tree had left minor cuts and scratches and not much else, the tree topper – a heavy, beautiful star, once golden in color but now stained with blood – was stuck in Bay’s right leg.

And that, of course, meant Bay was stuck where she was – too scared to move, or maybe it was because everyone was too scared to move her? again, her memory seemed to be failing her – in the back of the ball room, possibly the furthest from the door, often sitting alone with nothing but her tears and thoughts as company.

At least, until she wasn’t.

@missmcduck

#wda: earthquake #missmcduck #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: gore #//okay so #//here's bay #//like #//infected and bleeding and unsure of what's going on #//soooo...good luck with this?

[hermescarson]

@missmcduck the last thing hermes remember was the room shaking, and the next thing she knows she’s laying on the ground. rubbing her eyes she slowly sits up to look around at the chaos around her. that’s when she happens to catch a glimpse of her feet, her bare feet. where are her shoes? “my shoes,” she cries out as she scrambles to her feet, “i can’t find my shoes you’ve got to help me!” she cries out to anyone who will look her way.

#c: sorcha #this kind of really sucks let me know if i should change it #wda: earthquake

[missmcduck-blog]

It was one of Sorcha’s favorite days; her birthday. June 11th was basically legendary back in Scotland since it was the twins birthday, and it only meant there would be a huge party in the McDuck manor. But this year, was different for two reasons. One; Shaw wasn’t around, so the day was solely hers; second; she was finally 21. And while it meant she was completely legal, it also meant she was even closer to Scrooge’s fortune. “Come on, you’re slacking!” she laughed as she poured champagne in a couple of cups. “Drinks are on me!” 

#wda: starter #me: sorcha people was severly wounded and DIED #sorcha: fuck that is mah bday #posting that before i forget #ps. this was written before the earthquake and i though of changing it up but then i figured sorcha would still pull this shit #shrug