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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Reading Rainbow || Morgan & Leah (feat. Sundew and her pixie troop)

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @phoenixleah & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: The White Crest Supernatural Literacy Initiative has its first test run. Results are....mixed.

Pixies fly in the sky I can go twice as high Just take a look It's in a book A reading rainbow

“Are you sure you’re good to go?” Morgan asked, rocking along the edge of the woods. She had secured her keys and phone to her carabiner and tucked everything else she needed in her knapsack: water, taser, knife, snacks, offerings, stationary. She’d asked Deirdre for advice on what pixies liked best. She’d gone through her checklist, and she had a good feeling about this expedition. The fae were so insular and some of the smaller of the bunch, so underserved by the world. Living out in the wild, away from even an Aos Si, surely they could use a leg up for when they had to deal with humans, or if they wanted to engage with the rest of supernatural society. Literacy had been Leah’s idea, of course. But while she had seemed plenty excited by it when they’d talked, Morgan still worried about that knack for suppression she’d mentioned, and the wolf injuries that were only just healing. Was this too much too soon? Was she being a bad friend for not waiting longer?

Morgan squinted behind her over the glare of mid-morning sunlight. Her friend’s hiking bag was at least half her sized, packing everything from a small library’s worth of board books and mini books, to shiny offerings, to camping equipment, including a tent, for some reason. She was one strong wind away from being knocked over, and Morgan couldn’t help but laugh a little. “We can always come back if you’re not up to it, or if you feel like you uh, need more supplies before going in.”

Leah looked over at Morgan, adjusting the bag over her shoulder with a determined nod. “I’m fine, really”, she said, although her eyes didn’t quite meet her friends. She was fine, right? She’d gone out plenty of times since her incident with Ada, and physically, she was fit as a fiddle, thanks to Nisa. Still, it seemed every time she ventured out lately- first with Nicole and then with Kaden, she was faced with another monster attack to deal with, all before fully processing the trauma of what happened with Ada. But she wanted to be over it- an encounter with a monster was never much of a bother before, and she was determined not to let it be now. “I’m fine”, reiterated. “I’m excited, actually… I really think we could do something good here.”

They had been talking for months about spreading literacy around White Crest, and so doing it here and now was the perfect way to clear her mind from all the annoying anxieties that seemed to be popping their way in these days. She shook her head playfully, a smirk playing on her lips. Nicole, too, had something to say about the size of her bag. “It never hurts to be prepared”, she said, holding up her hands in mock defense. “I’ve genuinely thought of everything, Morgan. There’s not one thing we could go back for.” As they walked toward a small picnic table in the distance, she glanced at her friend again, smiling softly. “Besides, it’d just be rude to back out now, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t, actually,” Morgan said. “I can handle this just fine on my own if you wanted to take it easy for today. I know you’re all shiny and healed, but that doesn’t mean you have to go running into the trees to look for pixies.” But Leah seemed sure, and they did have all the supplies they needed, and then some. “Come here,” she sighed, reaching for her friend’s hand. “Thank you for doing this with me. Lets poke a little way’s into the trees, okay?”

She squeezed Leah’s hand, securing her grip, and walked to where nature clustered the thickest.

“Oh no!” She called. “I think we’ve already lost our way back to the park! I sure hope no one comes to try and take advantage of us! Don’t you?” She winked and Leah, encouraging her to add to the ruse.

Morgan’s insistence that she didn’t need her help was sweet, but Leah didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity like the one they were about to take. Maybe Morgan could handle it on her own, but Leah needed to be there, for her own mental health. She took a deep breath, stepping forward slightly and letting Morgan’s hand wrap around her own. She was fine. Her eyes were alert for any tiny creatures buzzing by, knowing that in order to teach a pixie to read, they’d have to find one first.

She nodded at Morgan with a smirk, her eyes becoming comically wide and her arms outstretched. “I do hope we do not run into any tricks, dear Morgan. We are just two small friends, trying to find our way home! However will we solve this predicament?” Her voice was a bit too loud to be believable, but she was really committing to this act they were putting on. “If only there were someone to play a game with us!”

A high pitched giggle emerged from behind them, followed by a slight rustling of the brush. She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, glancing at Morgan to see if she’d noticed.

“What’s that?” Morgan said, still exaggerating her voice for the benefit of any pixies hiding deeper in the trees. “Did you hear something? It sounded kind of scary, don’t you think?” She turned and started walking backwards, nodding encouragingly at Leah. “I think I’ll stop and have some of this candy to make myself feel better.” She slung her bag to one shoulder and took out a bag of candy fruit slices, crinkling it as loud as she could.

A hum of fluttering wings tickled her ears. Morgan turned. “Hello--?”

“GOT YOUR NOSE!”

The pixie was so close, she could only see a glowing blur of pink and green. There was a quiet pop like bubbles bursting under fingertips and then a gory impression of Morgan’s severed nose appeared in the pixie’s arms. She flitted back, cackling so hard with delight she started flying in backflips.

“I’ll take that!” Another pixie squeaked. The fruit candy bag was ripped from her grasp and plunked to the floor. Morgan turned, dazed, and saw two tiny sets of legs sticking out of the opening and kicking to find their balance.

“Wha--oh, Stars!” Morgan felt for her nose, just in case. She wasn’t sure if she got to grow a new one if anything happened to it.

“Made you look! Willowbud, look how dumb she is! I made her look!”

Sighing with relief when she felt it, Morgan finally let herself laugh. “You sure did! That was--whew!--some big magic. But I have much better candy if you and your friends will talk to me.” She grinned slyly at them. “And I have it on some very good authority that it’s one of your favorites.”

Leah followed Morgan slowly, her eyes still wide with fake fear, trying to grab the attention of the pixies that were sure to be nearby. “I am feeling very, very scared right now, Morgan. Thank goodness you brought so much candy to keep us well fed and nourished.” There was somewhat of a robotic tone applied to her put upon acting voice, but she felt it was doing the job all the same.

It was fascinating to be able to watch the pixies from so close, and she savored every moment, hoping she could remember it all to document later. She had seen a few as a child, and read about them tons, but being this close was a real treat. She wondered if the excitement shone on her face as much as it fluttered in her heart.

Strands of her hair floated above her head, and she heard the faint buzzing of wings as another pixie held it up, pulling and prodding as if it were the most interesting thing the pixie had ever seen. It flew directly in front of her face, it’s glow shining bright on her nose. “You’ve got a stain on your shirt!”, the pixie squeaked, pointing down toward Leah’s chest. She looked down, mocking shock, before it flew up playfully, poking her in the nose. “MADE YOU LOOK!”

The other pixies erupted in fits of giggles before marveling at Morgan’s news, all rushing toward the candy offered to them. Leah, for her part, got to work on setting up the mini chairs and table she’d borrowed from her niece’s play set, a perfect size for the pixies before them. “You can even sit down, if you’d like!”, she offered, grinning slyly and excitedly at Morgan. This plan might actually work!

Morgan eased to the ground, tearing open a handful of pixie sticks and hold them out. The pixies abandoned the candy fruit slices and flitted over, pulling at their favorites and dousing themselves in sugar.

“That one’s mine!” One of them cried.

“I saw it first!” Said another one.

“It has my name on it! See? It’s Appleseed!”

“They all say the same thing!”

“It’s okay, I have enough colors for everyone!” Morgan said. “But maybe one of you can tell me what these words on the candies do say?”

“Why? Don’t you know, Dummy-Boob?”

Morgan squinted. There was something strangely familiar about this one, the way she fluffed her pollen-strewn hair or flew a little ahead of the others, like she was the boss, or the name she called her. “I asked you first,” she said. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Sundew,” the pixie said. “Can I have yours?”

“No. Deirdre told me all about your little tricks, and she would be mad if you used our friend offerings to trick me. You wouldn’t make a fae mad on purpose, would you?”

The pixies swarmed into a tittering argument about whether Morgan could possibly mean their Deirdre, and who had last visited her and knew how she was doing, and could they trust this human to know anything about her?

“Not a human,” Morgan tried to interject. “And you can call me Morgan, and you can call my very good and also not-human friend here, Leah!”

“Oh! The Morgan Thing! Yes, yes, yes, I knew it all along,” Sundew said. “I remember you! Your face still looks like a Dummy Boob, but I guess since you gave us Pixie Stickses, you’re good for something.”

That was definitely not how to pronounce Pixie Sticks, but Morgan could see the mistake froSundew flew lazily down to the doll furniture and started munching on her treats. Only then did the other pixies join in. If Sundew thought it was alright, then they could enjoy what was being put in front of them. Morgan side-eyed Leah. She had never been especially good at speaking queen bee unless she was bartering something she knew was wanted, and how were they supposed to convince the pixies that this was a ‘them’ thing?

Leah had no doubt that Morgan would be well versed on how to deal with the pixies, especially after she avoided Sundew’s trick about names. She chuckled at the attempt, observing how the other pixies deflated with disappointment as Morgan refused.

She smiled shyly at the pixies as she was introduced, offering them a small wave as some of them swarmed around her in curiosity. “Morgan’s good for a lot of things, actually”, Leah said, noting how much the other pixies seemed to follow this Sundew’s lead. If they needed to get through to any of them first, it was definitely her. “If you think her Pixie Stickses are good, just wait until you get a look at her flowers and cakes.” Locking eyes with Morgan, she sent her a quick nod, a plan quickly forming in her head.

“Here’s the thing, Sundew. These human treats that the Morgan thing brought?...”- she glanced at Morgan at that, amused, before continuing. “...there are tons of them, all over the world. And they’re totally delicious, right?” The pixies around them tutted tiny noises of agreement as they munched on their own, and Leah sat down on the grass before she continued on, planting a dramatic, sad look on her face. “The problem is that Morgan thing here only brought us the very best tastes. Some of the tastes of the treats? Just awful. You get your tongue on one of the bad ones, it’ll be the only thing on your mind for weeks!”

Dramatic gasps erupted around them, and Sundew seemed to lean forward in her tiny chair. “There’s only one sure way to know which taste you’re about to get, Sundew, and that’s being able to read what flavor treat you’re about to eat.” She sighed dramatically, sitting back on her hands in the grass. Maybe, if Sundew thought this was her idea, she’d actually go for it. “Do you know how to read, Sundew?” She stared at the sky as she asked, as if the question was as casual as asking someone if they knew how to ride a bike (reading was obviously much more important).

“Of course I can read, Lee-lee,” Sundew said, puffing out her tiny, glowing chest. “And I can write too! Which is more than a dummy boob can do. How else would I know it says pixie stickies?” She proudly rippled open a blue pixie stick and dumped a heap of it onto her face to wipe and lick off her face.

“Okay, well, what about you?” Morgan asked, pointing to another pixie. “How do you know which one tastes the best?”

“Your face knows which one is the best!” Sundew interrupted.

“Obviously red always tastes best,” the other pixie said. “That’s why I get all the red ones.”

“See? We knowsy-knows everything we need to, Morgan Dummy Boob,” Sundew said. “You can tell Deirdre thank you for all her presents and I got that sexy spriggan’s number for her just in case she changes her mind, you’re welcome very much for--”

“Okay, moving on!” Morgan said, growing shrill.

Another pixie flitted up to Leah, pulling on her ear to get her attention. “Do you have any more of the stripey ones with the crinklies? I love the minty ones so much, they’re so good, and the stripes are so pretty and then if you get them sticky, you can put them under people’s fingers and toes and make them scream and it’s sooo much fun.”

“What’s this?” Two more said, picking at the doll furniture she’d brought. Together they pulled up one of the tiny cabinets with mini books and spun it around before letting it fall and tumble on the ground. Then up again, and down again, higher, letting the doors snap on their fragile hinges and all the carefully assembled books fall into the dirt.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t want to make people scream, would you?” Leah chided, tilting her head to the side. “That wouldn’t be very nice.” She was too focused on the pixie in front of her to notice the rumblings of Sundew and some of the others, who conspired with tiny whispers and giggles behind her.

Leah let out a sharp gasp as her ear was yanked, the action taking her off guard and causing her heart to flutter. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, and a flash of snarling, hungry werewolf teeth snapped into her vision. She had sworn that the flashbacks were over with, that they’d no longer be disrupting and distressing her at the drop of a hat, but somehow, she kept being proved wrong. Opening her eyes with a start, she swallowed a hard lump in her throat, attempting to focus all of her energy on here, on now, on this.

She reached into her bag, about to feel around for another candy cane to hand over to the small fae with some more coaxing toward reading when the commotion with the doll furniture caught her attention. “Don’t!, ...-stop!” All that hard work, all the arranging and careful planning she’d done, it was a waste if the pixies weren’t going to take it seriously. She reached forward, ready to pull the furniture away from them and carefully piece back together, but the pixies were quicker than she was.

“Don’t stop? Okay, we won’t!” one of them giggled, picking up the nearly destroyed, tiny books and dropping them again and again.

She pushed herself up into a standing position, determined to snatch the books and furniture away from them for good, when the pixies who had been conspiring behind her let out another raucous round of giggles, and Leah only realized why when it was too late.

In a matter of seconds, they had managed to tie her shoelaces together, causing her to tumble back toward the ground with a scream, landing on her hands in front of her with a grunt. Her mind flashed again, and suddenly, she could feel herself tumbling down her hall stairwell with the wolf, breaking and bending and bruising something new with each passing moment. No. No no no. She didn’t want to break anymore, she needed to get away and find a way out and-

“I think we do want to make people scream, Lee-Lee. Even not-human people, like you!”

She wasn’t in her house, it wasn’t that night, everything was healed. So why did she still feel so broken?

As she attempted to push herself back up, the pixies swarmed her, tugging at her hair, her ears, her fingers, her clothes- anything they could to elicit more silly screams and prove their point. Tears stung at her eyes, but she was essentially useless against their tricks, and even as she successfully pushed herself up into a sitting position, they continued to taunt her.

Morgan tried to shield Leah with her body, but there was no point when the pixies could fly over and around her to keep pinching, pulling, and laughing at Leah. “That’s enough!”

“You’re right, we should move onto tickle torture!” Sundew squealed.

“No, that is not what I mean--”

“But she’s so funny when she screams!”

“I know, a-and I understand that but…” But what? What was more important to a pixie than tormenting someone for fun? Panic tensed through Morgan’s muscles. She couldn’t hurt them. She couldn’t scare them. “WHAT IF I KNEW A BETTER WAY!” She shouted. “I know a better way to mess with humans!”

The pixies didn’t stop, but they did look up with eager faces, and some paused in pulling on her hair.

“It’s so fast, once you really know how, and the humans make it so easy, they won’t even know it!”

Sundew folded her arms and flitted up to stare Morgan in the eyes. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“I won’t tell you anything about it until you leave Leah alone.”

Sundew didn’t seem to like putting a stop to her fun, but she and the other pixies came to the same conclusion with one exchange of looks. Yes, finding easy ways to trick the humans did sound like more fun.

One by one they let go of Leah and flitted over to Morgan and as they each crowded around her vision, she realized that she had no ideas in her head but one, and she would have to hope very hard that this went over very well. “I--need you all to come over here and give me a little space while I show you.”

She took out a notebook and one of the markers she’d brought and wrote very carefully, one word on each set of lines. She was tempted to add an artistic flourish but remembered from her friend crying behind her that these pixies were not as child-like as they seemed, and she wasn’t in the mood to have her art critiqued. “Okay,” she said, donning her teacher-voice. “Can anyone tell me what this says?”

Silence from the pixies.

“This is a way to get humans to do almost anything you want,” Morgan said. “If you can get them to say this or agree to this in writing, You can have so many kinds of fun. Better kinds. And, it works both ways, so you should probably know how to read it.”

“That doesn’t look like anything so special to me,” Sundew said, glaring skeptically.

“We can break it down. It’s definitely a long phrase. You all know the first word, right?” They did. “And the second one?” Only Sundew knew agree, which she was very proud of. But when they got to terms and conditions, the little pixie folded her arms and stuck up her little nose.

“If you’re lying about these words, you’re going to be in sticky-sticky trouble,” She said. “No one gets away with lying to pixies.”

Morgan held out the marker to her. “If you really think I’m lying, then you should be able to check the box without any worries, shouldn’t you?”

All the pixies looked at her, waiting to see what would happen.

“I could tell you first, though, if you want to trust me,” Morgan said.

Sundew got as far as hovering the marker above the checkbox before her doubt came in. “Fine,” she huffed. “What does it say?”

And Morgan told her which each word meant, one by one, helping the others sound it out slowly. “Alright, so put together what does that mean?”

“I agree to your terms and conditions!” Willowbud cried. Her face fell as she realized what she’d said. “..Oops.”

“That’s okay, Willowbud. I release you,” Morgan said. “But you see, you don’t have to speak words to make them powerful. You can do all kinds of magic if you learn to write them down and leave them for other people to find. And there’s even more words than that out here. I could teach you some more of them, but, I’m definitely going to need you to do some things for me first.”

Sundew reluctantly agreed and the rest of the pixies let out the rest of their enthusiasm. Morgan would exchange one lesson in exchange for staying on task while they were in the learning area, which would be in her garden next but might change and be established by her later. And she would get one favor for releasing Willowbud so quickly and recognizing Sundew as her very special teaching assistant. When this was settled, Morgan helped the pixies gather all their candy into the spare dinner napkin they’d brought and waved at them as they flew away, carrying the stash between them all.

When the pixies were gone, really, completely, and not even in earshot gone, Morgan sagged on the ground with relief and crawled over to Leah. “Hey…” she said gently. “That was uh...pretty wild huh? Definitely not how I planned to do things. Are you okay? I brought some first aid stuff, if they did anything to you. Is it okay if I take a look? Leah?”

There was no end in sight, no stop to the pulling, and picking, and flashbacks. The torment- it was everlasting, even with Morgan’s muted voice in Leah’s ears trying to talk the pixies down. But the endless did have an end, even in the darkest of moments, and slowly but surely, whatever Morgan was saying seemed to lure them away.

As soon as it was possible, Leah pushed herself up, crossing her arms over her chest and walking briskly away from the group to lean against a nearby tree, trying to steady her breathing. The trees around them, despite staying in the same space, felt like they were closing in on her, inching and inching until she’d soon have no space left to breath. Suddenly, she was pinned under the wolf again, with no way out of the darkness that encompassed them. There was a sweat above her brow that hadn’t been there earlier.

Why did she still feel like this? Why couldn’t it just be over? She knew she was safe, she knew a bunch of pixies couldn’t hurt her- so why did her brain keep insisting on flashing back to that one, fateful night?

Something in Morgan’s tone shook her out of her thoughts, and Leah’s attention was turned back to her friend and the pixies, who were now surrounding Morgan. How much time had passed since she walked away from them? It had felt like hours, at least, but the position of the sun suggested it had merely been a few moments.

I agree to the terms and conditions.

Suddenly, a new wave of panic bubbled up inside her at what Morgan was saying, at what she was doing, and she closed the distance between them in a flash.

“Morgan-”, she warned, but it was too late- the pixies were already fluttering away with satisfied grins, clearly already planning the tricks they’d play with all they’d learn from Morgan. Her body slunk back down to the ground, in shock and disbelief at what her friend had just done.

“What did you just agree to?” she asked, her eyes wide and angry. Her voice sounded foreign in her ears. It was raspy and uneven and held emotion that she was not yet ready to let spill over. “Why would you… They’re going to torment the whole town, Morgan! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you just did is? How much damage it will do?”

She ignored Morgan’s offer of first aid, too enveloped in the thought of what the pixies might do with all they were about to learn. She was fine. She told Morgan as such, crossing her arms over her chest again.

Morgan flinched back, bewildered. “What did I--” Leah didn’t look tormented anymore, she looked furious. Instinctively, Morgan inched further away. She replayed the last few minutes, but the only thing she could see as wrong was abandoning her friend for so long. But she couldn’t have done things any faster. Or if she could have, but she didn’t know how. “I--I did what I could. I negotiated a no mischief or violence in the learning area agreement so this doesn’t happen again! I got them to leave you alone! What do you mean damage? They--it’s gonna be fine. They’ll have to write a whole lot more convincingly than Sundew’s chickenscretch before they can scam the town into hopping on one foot til they pass out.”

She still had this impulse that she should do something. Her bag was close by. She should check Leah for injuries, right? But stronger than this impulse was her confusion. “I--don’t understand what’s happening right now, Leah. You need to tell me what’s happening because I don’t--I-I know it wasn’t great but isn’t this what we--what is it you think I should be doing?” Morgan finally met her gaze, her look accusing through her hurt.

This was too much. There was a thought, somewhere in the back of her head, that maybe Leah wouldn’t be reacting the way she was if she hadn’t just been tormented by the pixies- if she hadn’t spent the last few weeks tormented by nightmares of being attacked by werewolves, and tiny snowmen that liked to stab your ankles. If the town hadn’t been plagued with people falling into sleep and never woken up again. “And you don’t think they’ll find a way around that? They’re pixies, Morgan. They’re known for their tricks! Giving them the power of those words is like tossing a lit match into a dry forest. They’ll learn… they’ll teach each other, and handwriting be damned, they’ll torment the whole damn town with this.”

She held Morgan’s gaze for a moment, her breathing shallow and heavy, before sucking her teeth and looking at the ground below them. “I don’t know”, she muttered finally, her voice small. “I don’t...know”. A panic began to rise in her chest, building and building in neverending wave of worry. “Everything feels like a big deal, Morgan. Everything feels like it’s about to come crashing down, all the time and all at once. I can’t differentiate between real danger and everyday mishaps, I can’t-...” She let out a sob and put a hand over her chest, struggling to catch her breath.

“No! They’re not going to take over the world! And what’s wrong with appealing to what they like? We’re not here to change them or make them like humans! I don’t--I don’t--I---” Morgan sputtered, quivering as she tried to assemble the pieces between them faster. Her mind whirred in place, nothing made sense, nothing fit. Weren’t they supposed to accept supernaturals the way they were, as long as there wasn’t recreational murder involved? Sure, the pixies might get up to some intense stuff, but education wasn’t about programming people to be like you. The pixies would always be themselves, that wasn’t something to fix.

But Leah breathed, and then she quieted, and then she cried, and then she panicked. Panic, Morgan knew how to handle.

“Hey. Hey, Leah...can I come close?” She inched towards her, hands in plain sight. “I just want you to breathe with me. You know all about breath control, yeah? It’s, um, it’s actually a nice game to play when your lungs don’t regulate themselves anymore because you’re dead.” She let out an uneasy laugh, unsure if levity was something that would help at a time like this. “Breathe slowly with me, and tell me how you feel.” Tentatively, she reached for Leah’s hands and tapped the familiar rhythm on her knuckles. “In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Where did you go, when they hurt you? Come back to me, help me understand…” She kept tapping, kept breathing, and strained all her dead senses toward the earth, searching for more answers.

Leah’s ears felt like they were clogged, and Morgan’s words were far away and muffled, and she could barely make them out. But she continued to hold her eyes, silently pleading with her to help stop whatever magic the pixies had sprouted that was making her lose her breath. This had to be the pixies, right? But then Morgan was requesting to come closer, clear as day, and Leah did what she could to let out a nod. Breath control. Yes. It was one of the first things she learned as a child in phoenix training. Controlling your breath was often the first step in controlling your fire, or even in focusing your heat. Focus, focus ,focus.

She tentatively let Morgan take her hand- it had felt like an anchor on her chest, as if before Morgan had reminded her about breath control it was the only thing keeping her grounded. In, hold, out. It was hard, now, but she kept trying. In, hold, out. Focus. In, hold, out. “I-I...my house, that night…” In, hold, out. She was here, not there. There was far away and gone and didn’t exist anymore, right? “...with A-...with the, ...werewolf”. She let out another sob, squeezing Morgan’s hand tight. “I… it’s still… I can’t stop…” In, hold, out. In, hold, out. “I thought I could… be over it. I thought I could forget. I can’t even get myself into my fucking guest room to clean up the mess we made, I … I can barely sleep through the night without waking up with a start thinking she’s there again, I…” She looked at Morgan again, clinging to her for answers, or comfort, or anything. “...I can’t stop feeling like this.”

“Oh, Leah,” Morgan whispered. She pulled herself closer to her friend and put her free hand on her shoulder and tugged, gently. You can fall, she wanted to say. I’ve got you. Let me catch you. I’ve got you. “Keep focusing. In, hold, out.” She did it with her even if her lungs didn’t need the exercise. “You’re with me now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe now, Leah. Keep breathing with me.” In, hold, out. In, hold, out…

Steadily they went, one round after another, and all the while Morgan told her I’m here, you’re safe, I’m here. At last, when the worst seemed to be ebbing away, Morgan said, “You can’t hide from it, Leah. It’ll just jump out of the shadows at you like this. Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must take care of what has been given.” She reached up to comb her fingers through Leah’s hair. “I’m sorry. I am so, so very sorry you must carry this with you. That you can’t pretend like it never happened, that you can’t go back to being someone this hadn’t happened to. But you can control it, if you look at it, if you hold it long enough, you can keep it calm and quiet, and one day it won’t be so big or so heavy.” She tugged on Leah again, urging her into her arms. “You have to be the one to decide, though. We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to. Whatever you need is what we’ll do. I am your friend and I love you and I am here for you as much as you’ll let me.”

In, hold, out. It was helping, Leah thought. In, hold, out. It seemed to be helping. The breaths started entering her lungs more willingly, although the pit in her stomach didn’t cease. And she let herself let go. For the first time since the incident, she let herself be cradled and held and cared for. It wasn’t to her sister, or Bea or Jas, who’d all offered countless times to help her pick up the pieces, but it was here, with Morgan, in the middle of the forest, when her resolve finally cracked. It felt ironic, but she didn’t know why. She listened to Morgan’s words, her voice grounding and soothing as she let herself be pulled back to earth. As she was wrapped into Morgan’s arms, she closed her eyes, her breathing finally… finally feeling steady enough to speak.

“I don’t know...how to look at it”, she admitted, anxiety bubbling up in her chest again. “I-... I’m so used to… I know about the supernatural, you know? I know how to d-deal with them, and handle the dangerous, and help them, and I thought that if something like this ever happened, I wouldn’t be so… sh, so shaken by it.” She let out a quick breath, bringing her hand up to wipe away at the tears that were falling down her cheeks. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat, slowly sitting up and pulling away from Morgan, a bit embarrassed at the whole ordeal. “I didn’t mean to yell at you”, she told her friend, catching her eyes.

Morgan bundled Leah into her arms as tight as she dared. She would have fallen to the forest floor with relief if she could have. Leah’s cries sounded as though they broke her body on the way out, as if her pain had become an invisible creature, clawing its way out. Morgan did her best to soothe the monster away with soft hushes and circles rubbed into Leah’s back, but that was only a bandaid at best. “Hey, don’t worry about me,” she said, brushing the issue aside. “We don’t have to talk about that today. I know you didn’t mean it now.” She kept on, soothing Leah while she held her and hoping with all she had that her dead arms were enough.

“You’re still a person, Leah,” Morgan said into her shoulder. “You can’t theory your way out of being a person, or suffering. You can’t skip around your pain. And feeling pain, carrying suffering, doesn’t make you any less strong or kind or wise, Leah. You are still every bit as valuable, as yourself, as you ever have been. And it’s so hard to feel that sometimes, I know. But nothing is going to be taken away from you if you look at it. If anything, Leah, you will understand more and have an even greater capacity to help people who’ve been hurt after you face this and learn to carry it better.”

Morgan’s skin was an interesting contrast to Leah’s, her friend’s cool and icy while her own burned red hot with embarrassment and sorrow. It was soothing. She let herself sink into it as she closed her eyes and listened to the logic that was flowing around her. She had been so in her head about everything that had happened with the wolf, and all that had happened after too. The snowmen with Nicole, the ballybog and vodnik with Kaden, and now the pixies with Morgan- they seemed to all be adding to an ever piling list of emotions that Leah was determined to deal with in some sort of metaphorical ‘later’ that she would never let come. But now, Morgan offered an out- a way to start digging through the pile and know she could still be herself once she reached the other side of it. And what better way to start than to just… look at it? To see it, to relive it, so that when the flashbacks inevitably came again, they wouldn’t be so jarring or scary. The idea scared her beyond belief, but it made so much sense that Leah couldn’t deny it was a good one.

After a long beat of thinking and sighing and breathing again, Leah let her eyes lock with Morgan’s, wondering if they looked as vulnerable as she felt. “You’re right”, she said finally, her voice just starting to sound like her own again. “I… I’ve been working so hard on pushing it all back- burying myself in work and scribe things so that I could move on and forget about what happened… but how can I expect to forget about it when I’ve not even let myself really remember it?” As she spoke, she picked at the grass awkwardly, needing something to do with her hands. She was fully embarrassed at the scene she’d caused, even if it was just between the two of them. Because of that, her attention was brought back to the mess the pixies had left- the wrappers and doll furniture were strewn about the grass around them, left without a care in the world. “Perhaps we should start cleaning up…”

Morgan took Leah’s face gently in her hands and held her steady while they looked into each other’s eyes, gently and clearly. “So remember. On your terms. And it doesn’t have to be alone.” She stroked her friend’s hair as she looked at the mess around them on the forest floor. “That won’t take so long. I still have the store bags, we can put the wrappers in one until we find a recycling bin and put your niece’s furniture in another. Maybe order her some upgrades to make up for the damaged stuff.” She smiled, relieved and confident. “What I want you to do is think about where you want to go next. Anywhere in town, as long as it’s just for you. No tumbling back into work, okay?” Giving Leah one more knowing look, a gesture to show that they were really okay, Morgan reached into her bag and started scooping up the mess.

Leah let herself sink deeper into Morgan’s touch, losing herself in the sheer gentleness that was presented to her. She let out a slow breath and nodded. “On my terms”. As they cleaned up, she thought about what Morgan said. Normally, she’d probably head to the library basement after an encounter like this, and write down everything she could remember. But she wanted to be better- to stop feeling like the world might fall apart at the drop of a hat, and so for once, she opted to take a break and take Morgan’s advice instead. “Morgan?”, she asked as they picked up the last of the garbage, moving on to the tiny furniture. “Would you like to go to the movies when we’re done here?” She leaned down to pick up the small table, one of its legs barely hanging on. “The Nordica is showing old classics tonight… it might be fun.”

Morgan beamed down at Leah as she stuffed the last of the wrappers and tied off the bag. “Oh, yeah? Hmm, I don’t know…” She scrunched up her face, pretending to give it some very serious thought. “You, me, and the rom com double feature with Irene Dunne and Katherine Hepburn?” Then she burst into laughter and pulled her friend up with a helping hand. “I would be delighted, Leah.”

#reading rainbow #wr leah #wr chatzy #wr leah chatzy #wr pixies #wr pixies chatzy

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

1, 2, 3, Not It | Tata’s Spookytober 2020

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Caught in a lie....

Genre: Horror/Thriller

Rating: Teen (Violence)

Warnings: Blood, mentions of drowning, character death

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N:

Hey y’all, welcome to the third installment of tata’s spookytober where I try to crank out as many spooky (or not so spooky) stories this october! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my future updates!

This one I just got very inspired by very suddenly. Not for the faint of heart in certain parts.

Other:

Masterlist

Spookytober 2020 Masterlist

“Who’s it?” Jimin ran, his breath heavy as you ventured farther into the woods and away from the cabin.

“I think it’s...Jungkook?” You huffed, slowing down to give yourself a break.

“Why?! He runs like a demon!”

“He was the last one to say not it!”

“He was on his phone!” Jimin crossed his arms as you came to a clearing near the creek.

The dead leaves crunched underfoot as the sun began to set. The man began to hum the song Lie, one of his favorite songs. “Caught in a lie…” He hummed.

“What’s the point of coming out here every halloween anyway? The cabin isn’t even scary anymore.” You mused, crouching near the babbling creek. Jimin stood up the embankment to keep lookout.

The cabin had been scary at the beginning; abandoned and falling apart, but over the years you and the others had renovated it into a cozy place to spend Halloween nights. The sun sunk lower, it’s golden rays disappearing behind the rolling hills. The forest stretched for miles, but you guys had marked trees to help you find your way back to the cabin just in case. You dipped your hand into the creek.

A scream pierced the air. The quiet forest was disturbed, the scream loud and familiar. Taehyung? You straightened and turned to look when Jimin took a hold of your arm. His eyes were dark, the joking lightness gone. He shoved you into the creek, holding your face to the water.

It was suffocating, the water ran over you, leaving little room to breathe. You struggled, arms flailing and legs kicking wildly. What was going on? Why was he doing this? Was he trying to kill you?! You tried to push him off, but you underestimated how strong the short man was.

“Stay down.” He hissed in your ear before standing upright.

The sound of footsteps crunched through the leaves and approached you two. You were about to scream for help when you heard him.

“Jimin, is it done?” Jungkook said. You had never heard him like this. It was...dark and serious. His tone was deadly.

“Yes.” Jimin dipped his head. You laid still, holding your breath.

“I’ll take your word for it. I took care of Taehyung and Jin. Namjoon and Hoseok are probably hiding in the cabin. I can’t find Yoongi. The bastard is quicker than I thought and I lost him when I got Tae.” Jungkook shrugged. “You look for Yoongi, I’ll look at the cabin. We meet by the creek in an hour.”

“Got it.” Jimin nodded and drew a knife from his bag.

You couldn’t hold your breath much longer. Jungkook eyed your body. You could feel his stare.

“You drowned her?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s harsh.” Then the men left. Jimin shot you a concerned gaze but followed his friend.

Once they were far from you, you lurched upwards, water splashing over you. Your hair was soaked, your knees bleeding from the rocks. You stumbled through the woods, hands reaching out for the trees to help you on your way. Jungkook was headed to the cabin, but Namjoon and Hoseok were hiding there as well.

Did they know? Did they know what was happening? You breathed heavily. The moon was lighting the forest well enough for you to see the trees marked red. Did you risk going to the house or should you search for Yoongi instead? But you might run into Jimin then and-

A figure bumped into you, cursing under their breath. You resisted the urge to shriek. Then you saw the light blonde hair and the cat-like eyes of Yoongi and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Y-yoongi!” You whispered, hands shaking as you reached for him.

His eyes widened and then his hands were on your shoulders. He looked you up and down, taking in your drenched form.

“Y/N, oh thank god you’re okay.” He murmured. “What happened?”

“Jimin tried to drown me, you?” You looked at him to see the blood splattered across his shirt.

“Let’s just say I had a run in with Jungkook.” He tilted his head to the side, the waves of his hair falling across his face.

His hands dropped from your shoulders and instead took to a nervous twitch as his sides.

“Where are the others?”

“I heard Jungkook say they were in the cabin. Jimin is hunting you and Jungkook went back to the cabin to finish Namjoon and Hoseok.” You shivered, the wind blowing against your wet clothes. The man nodded and then took your hand in his.

“Then we have to get out of here.” He said, tugging you farther away from the cabin’s path.

“What? You want to leave them?” You whispered in disbelief. “Yoongi! They’re our friends, what if we can save them? It’s two against four!”

“And what if we all die?” He turned to face you, his features contorting. “Don’t you understand? Jin and Tae are dead, we have to save ourselves and trust that Namjoon and Hobi will be fine, okay?” His voice broke slightly and his shoulders dropped. “If you don’t want to join me, fine.” He dropped your hand and stormed away.

You stood, mouth agape, eyes wide. Then, you clenched your hands into fists. Fine, indeed. You thought stubbornly and ran in the other direction, back towards the cabin. Your ears twitched towards every sound, your eyes tracked every little movement, as the trees blurred. You found the marked trees and continued the path.

It was a path you’d been down a hundred times. The steps were familiar, the direction nostalgic. Even in the dark, you knew where to go, you could feel it in your gut.

How had it all gone wrong? Jungkook had never struck you as having serial killer vibes. He was always soft spoken, sweet and nice, the same for Jimin. You stumbled into the clearing where the cabin was. There it stood. The lights were still on, but not a movement was seen.

You crept closer, peering through the kitchen windows. After checking around the area, you went around the back and slowly crept through the backdoor. You stepped down the hallway, careful not to squeak any floorboards. Then there was a muffled bang from the floor above. You sucked in a breath, feeling your heart rate jump.

The stairs loomed in front of you. The narrow steps twisted to the top floor. You took a deep breath, summoning your courage, and started up the steps. The cold wood creaked slightly and you paused.

Then, you continued on. The upstairs was slanted. Well, the roof was slanted. It sloped downwards and toward the right. The hallway stretched to the left and right. At the end of each hallway, the light fixtures flickered ever so slightly and the windows streamed the moonlight in.

There were seven rooms in all upstairs. Technically, there were eight rooms, but one was just a storage room. Jin and Namjoon had always agreed to share a room. You smiled slightly at the memory.

You could see them waking up, the way Yoongi would be up first and up the latest. He would always appear with a coffee in hand. Then there was Taehyung running down the hallway, shouting at everyone to get up. Jin would always bang on the doors with him, forcing everyone up. Jimin and Jungkook would slowly rise and greet everyone with a sleepy hello. The smell of pancakes would waft through the house and Hoseok would be helping Namjoon set up decorations.

Then the lights flickered once more and you jumped back into reality. No, Taehyung and Jin were gone. You would never see Taehyung running down the hallway, jumping for joy, or Jin shouting at everyone to wake up. The thought made your stomach curl in nausea. Your grief overtaking you for a moment and you weaved down the hallway, your vision blurring with unshed tears.

Your clothes left a wet stain against the carpet. You almost couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else but sit on the ground and sob. Maybe you should just wait and let them kill you, just like the others. What were you to do once this night was over?

There was a thump from the storage closet and hushed whispers. You straightened, reminded of your purpose. No, you needed to help them. You brushed your fingers through your hair, the strands catching every now and then. You walked over to the storage closest and knocked on the room lightly.

“Namjoon, Hoseok?” You whispered. The noises stopped. Then the door slowly opened.

Namjoon stood next to Hoseok, who was contorting his body to better make room for the two of them.

“Is the game over?” Namjoon tilted his head.

Your face fell. Hoseok took in your appearance and tugged on Namjoon’s sleeve.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked cautiously.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You were overjoyed, you couldn’t believe they were still alive and well, and that they thought this was still just a game, but then again, they thought this was only a game. A lump formed in your throat and Namjoon went to hug you, but you pushed him away.

“Jungkook and Jimin have murdered Jin and T-tae.” You stuttered.

Your legs felt weak, your body was shaking with exhaustion. The cold house was doing nothing to help your sopping wet clothes.

“What?” Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Are you joking?” Namjoon questioned.

“No! I’m s-serious!” You chattered, another tear rolling down. “Please, they tried to drown me and Yoongi ran off and you’re the only ones left and we gotta get out here before they come and-” You rambled.

“Hey, slow down, it’s okay. Let’s go and call the cops, okay?” Namjoon started to lead you away when you turned around and looked down the hall.

Jungkook stood there, a small smile on his face. His shadow stretched down the hallway, his tall stature elongated like a predator. There was a wild gleam in his eye. His hand held a bloody knife and the red liquid stained his jacket as well.

“J-jungkook?” Hoseok whispered.

“What’s wrong, guys? Did you see something?” the man asked menacingly, his innocent voice a sarcastic drawl. He took a step closer. Namjoon pushed you behind him and Hoseok.

“Drop the knife, Kookie.” Hoseok found your arm and held on tightly.

“Oh, this thing?” Jungkook dropped it onto the ground and kicked it so it skidded across the carpet and bounced to a stop halfway between them. He looked up at Namjoon, the leader who stood tall and proud. The younger man chuckled darkly.

“I don’t need this to kill you.”

Then he lunged forward and all hell broke loose. You shrieked and dove to the side as Namjoon was tackled. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around the leader’s throat, his hips straddling the man, knees pinning his arms. Hoseok jumped on Jungkook, trying to pull him off, but the young man just applied more pressure.

Namjoon choked, struggling for air. You scrambled upwards, the world tilting and making you hold your hands out to the side. You caught yourself on the opposite wall and bent down. You grasped the forgotten knife in your hands. The metal was weighted, the handle was slick and sticky with blood.

You turned and watched as Namjoon went still, his arms slowly falling away while Hoseok continued to try and pry him off. Your throat closed up as you lurched towards your old friend.

Jungkook I’m sorry. You chanted as you plunged the metal into his gut. The man went still. You let out a choked sob. The knife retracted, fresh blood running down the blade. Then you plunged forth again. He choked, ruby liquid dripping down his chin. His eyes were wide, but not surprised.

Jungkook, I’m sorry. You couldn’t stop, your metal impaling the man over and over like your chant. He fell to the side, eyes watching you. An unreadable gaze crossed his face, then he chuckled, choking on his own blood.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

Jungkook, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You continued to sob until a hand rested over your bloodied fist. The pale skin contrasted the ruby red streams dripping off your arms and the wetness streaking down your cheeks.

“That’s enough, Y/N.” Yoongi’s calming voice reached your ears.

You dropped the knife, hands shaking. You collapsed against the wall, your back hitting the wood with a thud. Jungkook’s doe eyes were still, lifeless. His skin was as pale as the moon. You caught Hoseok’s frozen features. He was holding Namjoon in his arms. You started shrieking. The weight of your actions crashing down on you. He thanked you.

Your voice was hoarse, your blood red hands streaked through your hair as you gripped your head. Yoongi just sat next to you silently. He didn’t need words, his presence was enough. Your stomach turned. The hallway was drenched in blood. It felt like everything had turned red. Your vision was a hazy maroon.

“You did what was necessary.” Was all he said, his eyes trained on the dead body before them.

You nodded, your sobs turning to a numbness that spread down your body. It traveled from your heart through your fingertips, turning them a frozen blue, and you were freezing. Could you ever scrub the redness from your hands? The crimson scarlet that stained your vision?

“Where are they?” You managed.

“Who?”

“Where are the bodies? I want to bury them.” you said quietly.

He nodded. The lights flickered and then shut off. The hall was drenched in darkness. You wanted to be scared, you wanted to have the energy to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You sat there like a rock as you heard Jimin’s footsteps enter the house. Hoseok was already up and Yoongi was tugging you to your feet.

“I know you’re in shock right now, but you need to live, Y/N.” He said, his voice husky.

“No, what’s the point.” You moaned. “I can’t live with myself like this.”

“You did what you needed to do.” He repeated, pulling you down the stairs.

Hoseok crept to the right and bolted for the front door. Yoongi and you followed close behind. Jimin was knocking open the doors in the hallway. You ran after Yoongi, who was running faster than your legs could keep up.

You stumbled and tripped, but kept up with him. Hoseok skidded to a stop. You stopped as well, catching your breath. The images of your knife meeting skin flashed through your mind and you took a few steps to the side and emptied your stomach. Yoongi watched you carefully.

“So, you’ve killed Jungkook.” Jimin’s voice reached your ears. You whipped around to look at him.

He was wearing an eerie smile, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees. He held a knife, but it was still a clean silver.

“Jimin, why?” Hosoek whispered.

The roadway was close, just a little longer and you’d be there. You could make a break for it, run to your car. Your hands trembled, the blood drying under your fingernails.

“It’s over, Jimin.” Yoongi stood firmly. He took your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I called the cops, they’ll be here any minute.”

Jimin’s grin turned to a sneer, his face contorting into an expression you never thought possible on the sweet man’s face. It was a look of rage, frustration, and...blood lust. He started towards Yoongi, knife in hand, when the flash of headlights showed through the forest.

“Hands in the air! Drop your weapon!” A man shouted, jumping out of the car.

Your heart thrummed against your chest. Jimin chuckled a little, dropping the knife and holding his hands above his head.

“You win this time, Yoongi.” He laughed. The policeman went around, cuffing Jimin and taking him into the car.

As the police got your details, you stared at the man in the backseat. He hummed loudly, eyes tracking you like an animal. Caught in a lie.

#bts #bts x reader #Min Yoongi #Yoongi #Yoongi x reader #tata's spookytober 2020 #1 2 3 not it #suga #angst #tw:blood #horror/thriller #teen

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multisfabulis · 4 years

Text

Love’s Descent into Madness

Dethronement (Chapter 3/3)

Word Count: 3627

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, gore, decapitation, and major character death

Happy holidays!

I hope everyone likes the ending because writing this was suffering. Winter decided to come early this year and I absolutely hate the cold so a lot of this was written with numb fingers. The past few days have also been tiring and, because I wanted to get this out before Christmas, I had to pull an all-nighter to finish this and rewrite it to make it look pretty so this was a sleep-deprived fic.

Okay, so I have some things I need to explain:

First off, that line about Ayano needing to apply herself more to her schoolwork was actually a reference to a piece of fanart I saw of Saeru (in disguise as Kenjirou) helping Ayano with her homework and subtly taking digs at her the whole time. I just thought of it while I was writing that paragraph and thought it'd be a neat reference. I can't find the Tweet but I'm hoping someone has a link to it!

Second off, that instance of Kenjirou almost ruining Saeru's plan is a bit of foreshadowing to another Kagepro fic I'm in the works of writing. It may not be the next Kagepro fic I write but it IS coming.

Thirdly, the whole meaning behind Azami not being able to die but still being killed. I know it sounds like the "People die when they are killed" meme but let me explain. I needed to think of a way Azami could still die but without anyone telling me "She's immortal, she can't die" so the way I went about it is, the Queen Snake was what let her be immortal. Because that was the snake that, in my fic, marked her as a god, she couldn't die. Once she gave that snake to Marry, she lost her god status, bringing her down to our level. However, because she was still a Gorgon, I made it so that she couldn't die by natural causes, I.E. starvation, sleep deprivation, etc. She was now an immortal mortal, meaning she couldn't die from natural causes BUT she could now be killed. I don't know if this makes a lot of sense but this is the best way I can describe it.

Finally, the ending. It only occurred to me when I was writing the build-up to it that I wanted to make it a sort of dark twist on Kagepro's themes of moving on after a loved one's death. Saeru decides to move on after Azami's death but he regarded her as dead years ago and was the one to kill her. I don't know if it worked the way I wanted it to but I tried my best.

I'm happy this didn't take that long unlike another past project of mine and I hope everyone who's read this enjoyed it!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

The never-ending world, or the Daze as it was now called, had undergone many changes over the years. It was only natural since it was ordered to swallow up any unfortunate souls that were unlucky enough to die on August 15th and the world needed to accommodate for its ever increasing number of occupants. Yet there were some things that never changed, no matter how much time had passed. Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

He was in very familiar territory. Casually strolling through the dark woods revealed a large clearing where a small decrepit house stood. The moon’s radiance acted as if it were a spotlight, shining down upon it to let him know she was here. It may be an inferior replica but there was no mistaking it. Saeru was home.

It had been several years since his departure from the Daze. The rest of his siblings were gone, having ventured out to the real world in their human vessels and he couldn’t blame them for leaving. Who’d want to stay in a place where the only company you had was a good-for-nothing has-been of a queen? That’s why he followed the example his four siblings set and escaped when the opportunity presented itself. He really wanted to thank them when he had the chance.

The body he left in was a person by the name of Tateyama Kenjirou. A hardworking teacher and devoted family man, he and Saeru met when he and his wife were caught in a landslide. Saeru promised to bring her back if the man allowed him to reside in his body and he accepted his terms of the bargain. That was how their unlikely partnership began, union between human and snake.

It felt simply amazing to have a body to control. While it had taken him some time to adapt and familiarize himself with human behavior, he nevertheless reveled in it. No longer was he a snake relegated to devising plans. He had the means to carry them out himself and no one would be none the wiser. At least, that’s what he believed before a certain idiotic girl proved him wrong.

He had to give her some credit. Not only did she figure out most of his plan just by reading her father’s research but she learned of his existence all due to a small yet sloppy mistake. If she only applied that amount of effort into her schoolwork, then she wouldn’t have been as stupid as she led herself to believe. There was, however, one thing she didn’t take into account.

She thought killing herself would stop him from going after everyone. What she didn’t think about was the advantage her death would give him. One less person to worry about ruining his plan and she left behind a perfectly traumatized helper. The damn brat was like putty in his hands; a few convincing threats to his precious “family” and a deal with the devil was made.

But then the dear old professor kept butting into his business. There were several times over the past two years where he came out because he wanted to spend some “quality time” with the remainder of his family. There was one instance he could recall in which his plan was almost thwarted but Saeru was able to take back the reins. It was too easy to pull the wool over his partner’s eyes and trick him into thinking he was dreaming. It wasn’t like he was lying to him, he was just using the information he knew about humans to his benefit.

Today was when his plan was truly enacted. All the necessary people had arrived, including his traitorous sibling. Konoha, as they were now called, seemed to have forgotten what the humans did to their real family all those years ago and had allied with them. Their compassion for them had its perks, though. It only took one well-aimed bullet to strike them down, leaving them open for a permanent takeover.

The resulting bloodbath was nothing short of marvelous. Having a body, especially one such as his, meant much more fun and creative ways to play with his toys. Spines breaking as they hit concrete walls and organs hitting the floor with a wet slap was like music to his ears. He even ripped out a pathetic shut-in’s throat with his bare hands just because he could and it was oh so enjoyable to hear him choke on his own blood. Too bad it was over all too soon.

The crybaby brat was left as the sole survivor. He knew what she was capable of and she was the essential component. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling a small sort of kinship with her, which he found funny. He was, in a way, her subject and she his queen but it felt as if they were equals. Perhaps, if he had her powers, he too could rewind time to the point he would’ve taken a different path. To spend more time with the one he loved above all else… That was a dream best left in the past.

He decided to leave her be so she’d be able to mourn her losses. He needed to use the little time he had to take care of unfinished business. He fled from the scene by going through the portal she created in the midst of her despair.

He found himself in what seemed to be a white void. The floor beneath him rippled when his feet touched the surface and he realized he was standing on water. His reflection stared back at him when he cast his eyes downward. The body his sibling graciously gifted to him allowed him to change it however he wanted and he liked the changes he made. A vessel specifically tailored just for him was such a wonderful thing and it was a shame to have to give it up.

A pair of small black horns stuck out of long dark hair tied into a braid. Black scales painted the edges of his face and eyes, trailing down his neck before concealing themselves under the layers of clothes. He kept his red eyes and fangs from when he was a snake so he’d still be recognizable. Blood coated his hands and stained the only article of pristine white clothing he wore, which he hoped would intimidate his prey. She’d never see this coming.

Finding an exit out of the void was simple. All he had to do was take a step and he was in an entirely different place. There were an endless amount of stairs and corridors leading to doors, most of what he could see on fire. The heat was surprisingly pleasant as he wandered around the seemingly limitless labyrinth. It was then he spotted a tangle of black hair with a sliver of red hastily entering one of the doors. With a rush of adrenaline running through his veins, he ran towards the door. It had been so long since he played his favorite game of cat and mouse.

He chased her through many areas of the Daze. One was of a ruined city where the setting sun gave way too many shadows for her to hide in. Another was of an urban landscape, not unlike a major street intersection, where there were dozens of blood splatters decorating the asphalt. It was after he cut across a nighttime city he arrived at his destination.

Mother was inside. The house she and her wretched human “family” lived and laughed in for the few years they stayed there. It was fitting for her and him to settle their issues in the same place their troubles began. She’ll regret leaving behind the ones that truly loved her.

He walked up to the house. Overgrown grass crept over the foundation and ivy crawled all along the flaky walls. There were broken shards of glass inside the windows, which would make it hard for trespassers to sneak in without alerting anyone. Parts of the roof had collapsed inward and the front door was hanging on by a thread. Mother’s really let the place go, hasn’t she?

He stopped just before the door. How did he want to approach this? She had to know he was here so there was no need in being stealthy. He then did the next best thing, which was to kick the door down till he was inside. He smashed through it, reducing it to mere splinters. That was easy.

The room he was in now was the same room he proposed the idea of creating this world to Mother. It was empty, save for a few pieces of overturned furniture scattered about the place and debris from the roof. Moonlight shone down from above, illuminating the room, though it wasn’t necessary. He could see perfectly well in the dark, despite the limitations of his “human” body.

There were two doors that stood in front of him. Beyond them were bedrooms, one being that brat Shion’s and the other Mother’s. It was a coin toss as to which room she was hiding in and he hated wasting time with trivial matters like this. Besides, even if he did end up picking the wrong choice, she wouldn’t get away undetected. His hearing was almost as good as hers and she knew that.

An idea sprang into his mind to try luring her out. He stood at the wall separating the two rooms, wound up his fist, and punched it. The sheer power in the hit caused a crater to form in the wall as dust sprinkled down from the ceiling. He heard something fall from behind the left door and a sharp intake of breath. The corners of his mouth curved up as he tried to fight back a laugh. There she was.

Keeping his excitement in check, he pushed open the door. Inside the room were the remains of a bed with two nightstands on either side of it and an empty window over to the right. He didn’t need the light coming in from a hole in the ceiling to see her. Mother sat in a corner of the room, her whole body shaking.

She hadn’t changed at all. She still had the same cascade of raven hair tied up with a red ribbon, the same black dress. The same red eyes resembling his own were now staring at him in pure fear. It must’ve been quite the shock for her to see Saeru walking around and being able to express his moods in a more effective way. She’d finally know how much and how deep his feelings ran.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Mother?” he asked, putting on a fake smile.

When she didn’t respond, he continued on with, “Nothing to say to me? Not even a welcome home? I know the last time we talked was years ago but I thought you’d still have some love in your heart for me. But I guess not.”

She still hadn’t said anything. He was getting rather annoyed at the silent treatment, even if it did bring him a modicum of amusement. Does she really think staying quiet in this situation will save her? Well, he had a way of making her talk and he deserved to brag about his accomplishments.

“If you can’t already tell, I paid a visit to the real world,” he said, noting the sudden pique of interest. “It’s changed so much since our time out there. I’ve met so many interesting people during my trip, including the kids my siblings are inhabiting the bodies of. I even got the chance to meet your successor, what was her name again? Ah, right, Marry.”

He saw the quick flash of anger across her face as she asked, “What did you do to her?”

“You can rest easy,” he replied, his temper beginning to flare up. “I haven’t laid a finger on that crybaby brat’s head. She’s all right, physically, at least.”

It was then her eyes wandered down to his blood-soaked hands. Gone was the anger as horror came to replace it at the grisly sight. He wondered when she’d notice that and he was pleased to know her reaction was how he predicted it to be. Her imagination had to be running wild with all the ways that blood got on his hands. The temptation of telling her his gruesome acts was there but this was more fun.

“Her mind, though, must be forever scarred,” he said with a dissonant smile. “I imagine her heart shattered to pieces after I killed her friends.”

“Why are you doing this?!” she demanded, her teary eyes full of fury. “Why must you hurt me so?”

All the fun he was having at her expense evaporated. Was she being serious? Did she really have the gall to ask why he was doing all this? Maybe it was time to remind her of the fault she held in this.

“I think the better question is, why did you choose them over us? Why did you abandon us?” He crouched down and rested his cheek on his hand.

“What are you talking about? I never abandoned you or your siblings! I tried my best to have the two most important things in my life get along without any issue.” She gestured to him with her hand. “You were the only one who had a problem with it!”

His eyes narrowing, he asked in indignation, “How could you expect me to not have a problem with it? How could you forget all the pain, all the suffering, all the torment the humans dealt on to you? How could you run off with that man and bear his child after everything they’ve done to you?”

It was at this point she stood up. He did as well, noticing the hard glint of stubbornness in her eyes. He already knew what was coming and he didn’t want to hear the same old, tired speech.

“Tsukihiko was different. He was kind to me, he cared for me.” She put a hand on her chest, where her heart was. “He loved me. He was treated the same way I was so---”

“So you thought you and him were the same? Please,” he interrupted, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the thought. “You and that man were never the same and you know why? He was but a mere mortal and you a god. You will never belong with the humans, no matter how much you try and forget that fact.”

“What do you want from me? An apology, is that it?” she asked, exasperated. He wanted much more than empty platitudes.

“What I want is for you to understand exactly how much you’ve hurt me.” He took a couple steps toward her, causing dust to rain down on top of him. “You refused to heed my warnings, took that brat’s side over mine, and you tried to leave me behind in this world. Who does that to someone they once claimed to love? Someone whose only crime was loving them?

“You’ve become the very thing you’ve never wanted to be.” He locked eyes with her and gave voice to all the pain and scorn he felt. “You’re a monster.”

It was as if he stabbed her through the gut with a knife. Tears spilled over as she fell to her knees, holding her head in her hands. It was bad enough for the humans to call her that when they knew nothing about her. It must’ve been like a betrayal to hear that come from someone she once considered to be her closest friend. Still, he got a dark sense of satisfaction seeing her break down. It served her right to feel only a fraction of the pain he’s dealt with for years.

“And yet--” he paused as she looked up at him-- “despite everything you did to me, I still love you. I was created to serve you and be with you for however long you wanted but I grew to genuinely love you. How could I not?”

She withdrew further into the corner after he stepped closer. The question he wanted, needed to ask leapt into his mind. A simple yes or no question and whatever her answer was would determine what he’d do next.

“It’s because of my love for you I ask,” he began, paying close attention to her face, “if you still hold some fondness for the humans. Do you still love your family?”

Without any hesitance in her voice, she replied with, “Of course I do. I’ll always love them. Tsukihiko, Shion, Marry…I love them all from the bottom of my heart.”

That was the answer he feared to hear. Her saying that proved to him she was too far gone and needed to be put out of her misery. They took everything away from her, from her happiness to her sanity. It’s because he loved her he’d be willing to give her the sweet release she deserved.

He started walking towards her. She tried to crawl away from him but found herself cornered with no means of escape. A wicked grin split across his face as he came into the moon’s silvery ray of light. He stopped just short of her, towering above her small, trembling form.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, scared for her life. “Whatever it is, I can’t die.”

“Oh, Mother…” He knelt down in front of her and cupped her cheeks. Her scales were smooth to the touch as he wiped away her tears. “You’re right in that you can’t die. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed.”

His smile growing ever larger, he said, “You lost your immortality the moment you passed on your crown.”

Her eyes widened in horror as his hands slid down to her neck. He could feel her pulse thudding against his palms, his slender fingers wrapped around her throat. She softly whimpered and he leaned in close. He whispered into her ear his final words before her denouement.

“Goodnight, Mother.”

It wasn’t hard to crush her windpipe. Her nails dug into his arms in a desperate attempt to fight back but he merely brushed them off. He knew she was close to death when her eyes started to roll to the back of her head. Then he had an idea to end this in something more similar to his style.

Her skin began to tear apart as he pulled her head up like a weed. The sound of her neck breaking echoed in the empty house. He finally ripped her head off her shoulders, blood pouring out of the stump as he stood up. Her body slumped onto the floor, the moon’s light reflected off the crimson pool.

Mother’s bright red eyes were now dull and lifeless. Her mouth lolled open and what little saliva she had trickled out of the corners. He could see just a sliver of her vertebrae sticking out of the bottom of her neck. He untied the ribbon holding her hair up, wiped the spit away with his sleeve, and shut her eyes. Her dark tresses felt soft on his skin as he touched their foreheads together.

“We’ll be together forever, right, Mother?” he said with a depraved smile before crazed laughter spilled out of his mouth like a stream.

It was only a matter of waiting now before time was reset. How far back it’d go, he didn’t know. Even if it was as far back to the beginning, he’d remember the events of this loop an do them again. He’d do them again and again to his heart’s content and no one would be able to stop him.

The only thing he wouldn’t commit again was his act of matricide. It was a one time thing and it was done to give him “closure” or whatever the humans called it. Mother warped into someone he didn’t recognize and he needed to accept that the person he knew had died a long time ago. At least he’ll always have his memories of her kept close to his heart.

It was time to look forward and move ahead to the future. Whatever the next summers brought, he was sure to enjoy every last bit.

#airi's writing #snake of clearing eyes #azami #fanfiction #kagerou project #canon divergence #violence tw #gore tw #decapitation tw #major character death tw

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revchainsaw · 4 years

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Sonic: The Hedgehog (2020)

Greeting my flock of film freaks and welcome again to the Cult of Cult. Todays offering is a bit more of the mainstream blockbuster variety, but as films based on Video Games are still actually quite niche and vastly underestimated I think we should open our hearts to Sonic: The Hedgehog and hope that we find it a pleasing tithe to the cult. I am your beloved minster, The Reverend Chainsaw, and welcome to today’s service.

The Message

I must confess to the congregation that I was drinking mighty heavily of the lord’s Tennessee sour mash when I was taking in this movie. That said, I think that this is a great movie to have a drink with and I mean that in the best possible way.

Sonic: The Hedgehog is of course based on the Sega video game franchise and stars Ben Schwartz as the titular blue rat. Schwartz brings his brand of high energy enthusiastic comedy to the voice role. While Schwartz is particularly on brand for Schwartz, is he on brand for Sonic? I’m not entirely sure, but I’m also not entirely sure I was ever in love with the old ways. I am not an avid fan or consumer of Sonic media and perhaps that means I am in a poor position to say. I am most familiar with the Sega games and Sonic cartoons from the 90s, and from what I have grasped the more recent entries with their more anime centric and high lore plots still owe quite a bit to the attitude era of the 90s. Sonic was a hero but he was also a bit of a cross between Mickey Mouse, the Flash, and Bart Simpson. As an angsty 90s boy I wanted to eat chili dogs and go very fast that was very appealing to me, but I’m not so sure it would be appealing to a vast audience of older millennials, or even todays kids. And though I think it would be a fair criticism to say that Ben Schwartz is playing sonic as basically the superhero version of his Dewey Duck from the VERY VERY good DuckTales reboot, I don’t think that it’s necessarily a bad thing.

Dewey Duck the Hedgehog is a small mammal (also not a rodent, I wanted to say rodent and apparently hedgehogs are not rodents, just googled it) from an alien planet where his adoptive mother, an owl named Long Claw, fears that he will be hunted for his special powers, which I think is just super speed but it might be other things. In line with these concerns after an attack by pursuers Longclaw gives Sonic the Moses treatment and floats the special blue boy down the metaphorical river. Unlike Moses, however, Sonic is not found by ultra rich ultra powerful extra special people but is instead alone. Sonic lives alone in exile outside a small American town as a sort of local cryptid.

Thus begins a charming adventure. Through a poor decision to use his powers while working out some personal issues, Sonic inadvertantly draws the attention of the U.S Government and their nasty big brain baddy Dr. Robotnik. Sonic recruits a small town police officer with big city dreams to assist him in finding his magic rings so that he might flee from earth to an uninhabited mushroom kingdom.

Now about these two human characters. Officer Everyman is played by cyclops from the X-men franchise. The actors name escapes me and so does the characters, and while, yes, I just looked up if hedgehogs were rodents, I will not be looking up this information. I like the review better this way. It makes me laugh. And while I don’t remember his name, I do remember that he used to live In Mt. Juliet, TN. Anyway, what you should know about Officer Goodguy is that he drives a Toyota Tacoma!

That Toyota Tacoma is also continuously abused by the mad machinations of our films biggest draw: Jim Carey as Dr. Robotnik. If we were to pitch a Sonic movie, I don’t think anyone would jump to Jim Carey as the must have for the role, but after seeing this film, boy was it the best choice. The way he chews the scenery and plays off the rest of the cast and situations is just so much fun to watch. It’s fantastic to see Jim Carey back in a larger than life role. The Decision to play Jim Carey as the kind of condescending nerd who has taken their lack of social skills and leaned in as opposed to working on themselves was a brilliant choice. We’ve all known that kind of guy who tries to play the misanthrope just because they are too egotistical to recognize their flaws. Here Dr. Robotnik has given up on human connection in favor of subordination. His intellect is his only value, and thus he demands everyone around him acknowledge intellect as the only quality that matters as he has. It was a great choice.

From the point the chase begins the film becomes a road trip flick, and despite the fact that Sonic could supposedly cover the distance required in the blink of an eye we watch the ins and outs of our heroes relationship as they learn what home, and being a hero mean to them. By the climax it is pretty by the numbers, Sonic has come to feel at home on Earth and now that he has friends who care for him they can begin to make a world from which neither will have to flee; and of course, they beat the bad guy. FOR NOW. we are treated to an even crazier Dr. Robotnik stranded in the Fungus Dimension bent on revenge.

The Benediction

Now for all things Holy and Profane in this film, please rise for the Benediction.

Best Scandal: Sonic the Cosmic Horror

The original look of this film was mired in dread when the early footage and trailers dropped revealing a hideously uncanny hedgehog monster in the form of sonic. The memes are amazing, the toys are unsettling, there’s still plenty of Quasimodo Sonic stuff out there floating on the web and I suggest that you search it out, the laughter is good for your heart. Also if anyone wants to send me any creepy sonic merch I’ll take it.

Thanks to the work of online fans and internet harassments, the studio felt it was going to lose money on the project and reeled back the release allowing for the design department to give us a more cartoony but less frightening alien monster. I mean he’s a cartoon, it’s okay for him to look like a cartoon.

Best Scene: Noodle Dance

It’s hard to choose, and it feels a bit biased, but there are a few scenes with Dr. Robotnik that are just what make the movie more than a forgettable IP adaptation. Not that Ben Schwartz wasn’t doing great as the character but I feel Sonic as a whole would be lost in the milieu of CG spectacles and Super Hero Origin stories that we are bombarded with every year if not for Jim Carey’s performances; and even with them Sonic: The Hedgehog is not completely out of those woods. That said, I think Dr. Robotnik’s Alone Time Dance Party has to be the stand out sequence in my memory. I can’t really speak to what makes it so enjoyable, but damn if it isn’t just the best scene in the movie.

Best Character: Silicon Valley Dr. Robotnik

Do I even need to say it? It’s Dr. Robotnik. I’m not a fan of this villain from any other media. I always found Dr. Robotniks look unappealing, I’m not a huge fan of his powers, or using robot henchman. it always struck me as pretty boring how Sonic didn’t have a cool rogues gallery (i’m talking about 90s sonic) the way Mario did. However, they did something with the design, characterization, and performance that just made him such a fun villain. Also, my friend Jacksons mom said I looked like him and it didn’t hurt my feelings so.

Best Actor: Jim Carey

Jim Carey. It really seems like he’s all I’m talking about in this movie. Once again, I think Ben Schwartz did great and Sonic IS basically Dewey Duck in this movie. Dewey Duck is my favorite part of the rebooted DuckTales series, BUT he is just outmaneuvered by Jim Carey in this role. I think it’s a compliment enough to say that Ben Schwartz was even able to keep up with his energy, let alone play his quicker perkier foil.

Worst Scene: Toyota Tacoma Commercial

Sonic: the Hedgehog’s worst scene would probably have to be the forced friend fight between Sonic and Officer Wachowski during the car chase. It’s an overproduced weightless car chase scene with a contrived buddy cop controversy meant to force apart our heroes so that they can ultimately grow a little and come back together later in the movie. Not that I mind a movie like this to be so by the numbers, but it just felt like two of the blandest things on this movies plate being forced into one scene. I do like the idea of giving me the crap part of the dish in one flavorless generic bite, but that still doesn’t save it from being the worst scene in the movie.

That Toyota Tacoma took a beating though.

Worst Feature: Nothing Ventured/ Nothing Earned

I’m sure many fans would feel that the worst feature of the film is that it isn’t loyal to any previous lore laden version of the character, (probably the one they like the most). In the portrayals of both Sonic and Dr. Robotnik there were decisions made that drastically differed from the ways they have been portrayed before. Sonic is naïve and idealistic, a bit childish, Dr. Robotnik is driven by a lot of insecurity. Where are the Chaos Crystals and my original character Grindy the Wolf Cub?

But I think that these are over all positive choices in a film that otherwise chose to play it incredibly safe. In their cautious approach to appeal to the widest possible audience the film makers gave us a pleasant and appealing cartoon romp but we are left with little to hold on to. The worst feature of Sonic: The Hedgehog is it’s safety.

Summary:

Sonic: The Hedgehog is often touted as “the first good video game movie”. A label that I disagree with wholeheartedly. It is certainly a good video game movie, but it’s not the first, and it is not by leaps and bounds better than other video game movies as a whole. It’s a sub genre that gets a ton of disrespect, and in a world where the biggest criticism levied against the Super Mario Bros is that it’s not a faithful adaptation, I don’t understand how Sonic the Buddy Cop/ Road Trip comedy is escaping that attitude.

All that said, I had a good time with this movie. But it felt like playing on the playground as a toddler. You have fun and then you leave and you don’t really remember what you played or who with. I’ll think about Jim Carey and Dewey Duck, but I had a hard time hating or loving anything this movie did in any strong way. I usually feel that a movie that is “bad” or “corny” or “shlocky” is always better than a movie that is generic, or pointless, or boring. Sonics pleasantness and cheerful energy just barely save it from being another Transformers franchise. I get that origin stories are hard, so I’m eagerly awaiting the next installment, and hopefully it’s going to do something that sets it apart. Probably not.

Overall Grade: C

James Marsden! I just remembered!

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slipperyskell · 5 years

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Hey, I really love your Cicero headcanons. He's one of my favorite Skyrim characters. If you have the time, how do you think he'll react to the environment in different holds? Or like visiting a city/palace or keep thing for the first time? I know he has a few voice lines for specific things but we all know Bethesda falls short on a lot in this game. Sorry if this is an annoying ask or something.

(Dude, don’t even worry about it!!! I honestly live for these kinds of asks and it makes me really happy that you took the time to write me one!!! Being able to actually interact with my followers makes me happier than you could ever know

Whiterun: Whiterun is one of his favorite towns. It’s by far one of the most peaceful he’s seen, aside from all the supposed werewolves around that Arnbjorn talked about. That set him a bit on edge. But other than that, it’s a very peaceful and prosperous place, one he wouldn’t mind settling down in if he had to. And there’s very few places he wouldn’t mind sticking around in outside of his blessed sanctuary. And that’s not even getting into the legendary Skyforge that rests above Jorrvaskr. One day he’ll have enough money to get a nice dagger made for him… One day… Dragonsreach is probably his favorite keep/palace of all the capitals. It’s very big and warm looking, and all the people, save for the Jarl’s spoiled rotten, bratty children, are rather nice for those ranking so far up in society. Oh, and to hear the stories of Dragonsreach’s history! The great tale of Olaf One-Eye trapping Numinex in this very palace excites him to no end. Who knows, maybe with the dragons returning, it could happen again! And Cicero could see it for himself!!!

Windhelm + Eastmarch: Very mixed feelings about Windhelm. On the one hand, it’s a pretty place, with a lot of history. Not to mention a good murder mystery he’s been keeping tabs on! But on the other hand… He does hold a disdain towards most of the Nords of the place, and their treatment towards the minorities of the town. He ain’t about that bigotry and racism, yo. Not to mention the unrelenting cold of the place. The Palace of the Kings is okay. Not terrible, but very hard to navigate and poke around in.

Winterhold: Cold, desolate, and mostly uninteresting, save for the college. Even then, it’s not like he has the time to devote himself to the study of magic (though he does have a strangely good grasp on Alteration related things). All in all it’s a pretty forgettable place, even with the College in mind. Honestly probably doesn’t even bother going into the keep/palace here.

Riften + The Rift: His favorite hold capital without a doubt. It’s chock full of criminals, though he honestly wouldn’t hold any interest in joining the Thieves’ Guild, even if he had the option. It’s a pointless venture to sneak around one’s house without sending the gift of a soul to Sithis, if you ask him. He’s scheming almost every time he goes there, observing the people and the security and every single little detail he can muster, so that he may save it for later. Outside of the city, The Rift is a very pretty place, too. Pretty like Falkreath, but not as personal to him. The forest being in constant golds, oranges, and reds make for surprisingly good camouflage with his jester suit. Mistveil Keep is a pretty place, though the people within and all the stories he hears about the Black-Briars does send him a little on edge, if he’s going to be honest. Not that he wouldn’t do anything - of course he would still cause trouble! It’s just… he supposes it provides a good challenge for a change? Makes him really have to think? All in all, the Rift and its capital gets him thinking in a very mischievous manner.

Falkreath: Probably his favorite hold, based off its looks. Cicero likes to wander the woods, looking for flowers for mother, whenever Astrid or Arnbjorn became too much and he needed to find some kind of release outside of the sanctuary. To be able to wander the forests, and find these hidden away little clearings, or some secluded spot along the shores of Lake Ilinalta… It was a beautiful place. Quite a few painful memories there after the Dark Brotherhood questline is completed, but… still beautiful. Very, very beautiful. The Jarl’s place is relatively uninteresting, though the Jarl himself certainly gets his attention. Cicero was young and arrogant once, but mother was sure to snuff that out of him long, long ago. It seemed no one had done that to Siddgeir yet. Perhaps Cicero should teach him a lesson…

Morthal + Hjaalmarch: Very dreary, and very wet. Part of him appreciates the constant mist that hangs over the marshes, as it makes for an excellent shroud for when he’s out for a stroll, or for a kill, but at the same time, he can’t stand getting wet in such disgusting water. And don’t even get him started on all the problems with the vampires! He appreciates the un-child, Babette, sure, but to have an entire hold running rampant with them? To have an entire town being under a siege, more or less, with the vampires being the culprit?! It was ridiculous. Madness, one might even say! The Jarl’s place here is also relatively uninteresting, though he finds Idgrod intriguing. A very cryptic old woman. Reminded him of his mother…

Dawnstar + The Pale: Like Windhelm and Winterhold, it’s very cold, and he gets cold very easy, so on that front, he’s not overly fond of it. On the other hand, however, this is the home of their Sanctuary. But not just any old Sanctuary, the blessed one! Blessed by Sithis himself! He thinks the land sacred, in a sense, and he feels compelled to send a soul to Father every time he enters and exits. It’s only fitting he express his gratitude for such a place, after all! Interestingly enough, he’s rather fond of the town of Dawnstar. It’s a quaint little place, cursed with nightmares, so he hears - his family haven’t need to fear such a thing, however, as Mother and Father protect their heads. Most of the townsfolk know of him already from his time in Dawnstar before he came to Falkreath, and while they do think he’s lost his marbles, they still welcome him. And, my, my, he never thought he would ever eat so much seafood in his life!

Markarth + The Reach: A very whimsical hold! Full of hills, cliffs, green grass, fog, dwarves… and those stupid Forsworn and their bird women! He really thinks it’s a beautiful place, not as pretty (and certainly not as peaceful) as Falkreath, but very pretty regardless! Really, if the place wasn’t crawling with the Forsworn, he would certainly love wandering along the river banks and enjoying the view of the towering cliffsides before him. They’re quite calming… Understone Keep is another one of those places that makes him a little uneasy, though it’s more due to the presence of the Thalmor than anything. He was only a child when the Great War happened, but he remembers enough to know that the Thalmor aren’t to be taken lightly. Other than that, he likes learning about all history that’s been uncovered regarding the Dwemer, and probably visits (or breaks into) the Dwemer museum.

Solitude + Haafingar: Reminds him a lot of home and his youth, which is both comforting and unnerving at the same time. All the different people, and different kinds of people… All mostly rich, in an honest manner or otherwise. Plenty of dark alleyways and full coin purses, perfect for ruffians like himself and his Listener. It’s pretty busy there, though, and unless the Listener is with him, the hustle and bustle can get the better of him and might lead him into an anxiety attack. The jester in his head also tends to come out in this city as well, bitterly reminiscing his days as an entertainer for the royal courts, which was mercilessly ripped away by Cicero so very long ago. He may or may not take his anger out on the poor man whenever he’s here. But what else is there to do for him? He’s dead! And his killer is still so very much alive and unwell, thanks to the jester’s handiwork… All in all, it’s a very love/hate relationship.

#cicero #cicero skyrim #skyrim cicero #skyrim #the elder scrolls #cicero headcanon time #cicero jester #jester cicero #the fool of hearts

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probablybard · 6 years

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Campaign Diary Chapter 1: Goblin Ambush on the Triboar Trail

As a forward to this, I’m running through Lost Mines of Phandelver with my group, though the story and many aspects of the adventure have been heavily modified. There may be characters that are familiar to you, especially fans of The Adventure Zone: Balance, but I’ve changed quite a bit of it to make it a pretty unique experience for my players, particularly after the first couple sessions. Also, we’ve been playing on an almost weekly basis for several months now, so I have a lot of game to cover and I honestly don’t think I can remember everything that’s happened in the dozens and dozens of hours we’ve played (we play at a local nerd bar so I also have myself a couple brews while we play), but I’ll be sure to hit all of the most important story points. I hope you all enjoy reading about our adventures, because I know that we’ve had a lot of fun playing them!

Content Warning: Animal Death

The city of Redwell was carved into the Redstone Cliffs almost a millennium ago, a feat funded by the Redbanes, a tiefling family that has long since ran the city through popular support and pure economic power. The youngest heir of the Redbane name, Valcis, has called in a number of friends to help him with a seemingly simple favor. Mil’kyral, known as Milk to his friends, is a half-dryad Wood Elf Monk that hails from the feywild. Valcis is known as being a giver of favors in the city and a patron of many new faces, so when Mil’kyral first made his way to Redwell years ago Valcis helped him integrate into life on the material plane. Valcis also called a friend from Whiteiron, a hub of enchantment and technological advancement far to the north. Sildar Hallwinter, a human noble and member of the lord’s alliance, recruited two players to help him with Valcis’ request: his friends Chrysalis, or Chrysa, the half-elf druid, and Telia Skippingstone, the halfling bard. The group converged at Valcis’ favorite tavern in town, a small dive called the Bucking Mare, where Valcis explained their simple quest.

The four of them, Mil’kyral, Chrysa, Telia, and Sildar, all arrived at the tavern around the same time. Valcis greeted them excitedly, his attitude a foil to the joyless stoicism of the dwarven man at arms sitting besides him at the booth. Over a few tankards of ale, Valcis explains that he simply needs them to escort some supplies down to one of his businesses down in the town of Millstone, just half a days journey south. He and his travelling companion, the serious dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker, were leaving that very night, planning on arriving early in the morning, with Valcis mentioning pressing business in the area that required his immediate attention. After some parting words (and another tankard of ale), Valcis and Gundren pulled the hoods up on their travelling cloaks and road out of the city, leaving Sildar and the party to their devices. Sildar and Valcis had known each other for a long time through Sildar's work with the Lord’ Alliance, and Valcis trusted him implicitly to complete his task dutifully.

The players were not so quick to trust Valcis, as none of them knew him as a close friend and the request was strange. Why bring a monk from the feywild and three adventurers all the way from Whiteiron to simply escort a cart of supplies down a well traveled trail? They investigated the cart, finding nothing suspicious, and let it be for the night. The following morning, the party rode out of Redwell along the high road, trekking down the Redstone Coast for the better part of the morning. After passing a friendly merchant who warned them of goblins in the Wood, they turned off of the high road onto the Triboar Trail, cutting through the Redwell Wood.

Mil’kyral, being a dexterous elven monk, scouted ahead of the party. Around one of several bends in the trail, he found a shocking scene: two dead horses, their bellies split open and the viscera spilled. Reasonably concerned, Milk returned to the group, explaining the situation to them. Mil’kyral and Chrysa the druid went back to investigate the grizzly scene while Sildar and Telia the bard ventured off the trail in search of ambushing creatures. As Mil’kyral went to investigate the horses, the nearby ambushing goblins let their arrows fly, with Telia and Sildar over 100 feet away. Combat began, with Sildar and Telia rushing to support the rest of the party that were outnumbered by the goblins. Mil’kyral showed a mastery of his martial arts, finishing off the attackers alongside Chrysa before Sildar and Telia could even arrive.

Investigating the horses, they found that they had likely also been victims of a similar ambush, and to Sildar’s dismay, he recognized the horses as those belonging to Valcis and Gundren. Searching nearby, they discovered a small goblin trail that lead further into Redwell Wood, away from the Triboar Trail. At this point the party knew that Valcis and Sildar hadn’t been completely honest about the nature of the quest, and demanded that Sildar answer his questions. After some persuasion, and refusing to continue until he explained himself, Sildar told them everything.

#campaign diary

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whatwillyoudodifferently · 7 years

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Cold Sweats Were Made To Be Broken - How Emily Carroll Creates Effective Horror By Bending The Rules

I believe that, with enough time and resources, someone with a good eye for horror would be able to create a good horror story with just about any medium. With prose, you have the advantage of vivid description and getting to intimately know the character’s inner thoughts and fears, like in the works of Stephen King. With film, you get the advantage of visuals and audio along with the dread that comes with being a helpless audience member, such as the in the works of John Carpenter. And while the poor video game is often given a bad rep among other, older art forms, video games actually are one of the most ideal ways to experience horror stories, since the audience must become an active participant in the story to move it forward, not even allowed the escape of being a passive viewer.

It’s actually for very similar reasons that I find comics to be one of the ideal mediums for the horror genre. You get some of the benefits of prose, some of the visuals of movies, and even a bit of the forced participation of video games, in the fact that readers must choose to advance to each next page- a happy medium, if you will. There’s also one of my favorite features of sequential art as a whole- the fact that the artist has a tight amount of control over the pacing of the story. You can enhance the drop a world-shaking reveal on the reader by devoting a splash page to it, or pull out a scene with agonizing slowness with multiple, decompressed panels- storytelling devices that become lethal weapons in the hands of a good horror writer.

Keeping this in mind, it’s no surprise that horror comics have always been a huge part of comic history. In modern times, American comics are almost always associated with superhero stories, but there’s actually a rich history of horror comics- the rise of gruesome true crime stories and horror anthologies like Tales from the Crypt are why we have the infamous Comics Code, after all. Today we have titles like 30 Days of Night and The Walking Dead (though their more cinematic adaptations are typically more well-known). The huge world of European comics have given birth to a huge number of horror titles, like Italy’s Dylan Dog or Britain’s semi-tongue-in-cheek Scream! And of course, Japan has been the birthplace of great horror comics from the days of Mizuki Shigeru to the advent of modern horror with figures like Junji Ito and Masaaki Nakayama.

But of course, those figures and titles only exist in the world of print comics. In the age of the Internet, it would be remiss to ignore the staggeringly massive world of webcomics in any discussion of comics, let alone horror comics. This is due to any one of the many, many, many webcomics that exist online, but for this essay, I want to focus on an artist who doesn’t just happen to focus on horror comics while publishing them on the internet, but uses and utilizes both the medium of sequential art and the Internet to bring out the best in her comics.

Originally an animation student, Emily Carroll had only just begun to venture into the field of comics when she went hurdling to the attention of the webcomic community in 2010. His Face All Red was only her third comic, and its runaway success (helped by the recommendation of another name in horror comics, Neil Gaiman) was something she admits to be caught off-guard by. But she clearly has seemed to have taken it in stride, considering that her website now hosts almost 20 webcomics, many of them some sort of horror story. She’s also done print comics, including the original anthology Through the Woods and the upcoming graphic novel adaption of Laurie Halse Anderson’s powerful YA story Speak. As grandiose as it may be to say this, I believe Carroll’s style and approach to storytelling was made for the medium of comics, and I believe she deserves a spot up there along with Gaiman and Ito when it comes to naming masters of the horror comic.

But how does she do horror comics so well? It’s not just good writing, or good art, though she’s certainly talented on both those fronts. After spending an amount of time looking through her comics, I think I’ve come up with a solid answer, an answer that can be used to teach anyone interested in comics and in storytelling in general.

Emily Carroll is a master of breaking rules.

When I say rules, I don’t mean that there’s actual rules some God Of Comics has written down somewhere. Rather, the “rule-breaking” Carroll does refers to how she subverts expectations and goes against the conventions of storytelling that have become familiar over time. In doing this, Carroll’s comics have an air of unpredictability to them, and the reader must not only advance through the comic at their own pace, they must do it with the knowledge that the comic will surprise them in some way. In short, when a story breaks “the rules,” it creates the illusion of the audience’s safety being lost.

But how does Carroll break the rules? This is a bit of a nebulous thing to analyze- I mean, I don’t even think “breaking rules” is something Carroll consciously sets out to do. But over time, I’ve noticed recurring themes and storytelling methods in Carroll’s comics, and I think it’s worth analyzing them to gain a better understanding of sequential art and how sequential art can continue to evolve.

Breaking “The Rules” of Each Comic

One thing I like about Carroll’s webcomics is that, since they’re all self-contained short stories, they each have their own unique visual “language.” This can apply to comic’s palette (like how The Hole The Fox Did Make is all grayscale), the format of panels (like how When The Darkness Presses is told through several 4-panel pages), or even the format of the writing (like how The Prince & The Sea is told as a poem). This gives all of Carroll’s comics a sense of cohesion, similar how to repetition is used in visual design to create a sense of rhythm and reason.

But, of course, what’s even more important than the “rules” Carroll establishes for each individual comic, is when Carroll chooses to break these rules.

The Hole The Fox Did Make is all grayscale- so when the colorless 4-panel strips are replaced with a mass of panels mostly rendered in an angry red, it comes as a shock. When The Darkness Presses is told through several 4 panel pages- so the reader knows that the long vertical segments that accompany each scene about the door are meant to be considered different than other scenes. And once the reader sees what is behind the door…

Suddenly changing the established visual language of a comic is easy shorthand to let the reader know that the scene is important in some way, but in a horror comic, it can also be a subtle way to catch the reader off-guard. Rebecca’s ghost story in All Along The Wall is told in a simple style and over-saturated colors to distinguish it from the “real” scenes, but the contrast in the story’s bright, colorful palette to the sketchy grayscale of the rest of the comic almost makes it feel more menacing in contrast. The fact that it’s explicitly a ghost story rendered in these almost cheerful hues make it even more uneasy- and ends up saying a lot about the kind of person Rebecca is. In short, it’s good, creative storytelling that also serves to scare.

These breaks in the established format work best when combined with one another. The Prince & The Sea takes part mostly on land- specifically, in single-panel illustrations that show only the meeting place of the prince and the mermaid- with a colorful palette that’s equal parts earthy and warm. When the story shifts under the sea, the palette shifts to eerie, cool colors that reflect both the dark atmosphere and the horrifying turn of the plot. But in addition to this, the story finally breaks the single-illustration format, going vertical to simulate the feeling of diving, and adding in “floaty” panels surrounded by black, giving a true feeling of being underwater. Carroll uses not only tone and format shifts but shifts in space- which, incidentally, brings us to one of the most notable and important features of Carroll’s work.

Breaking “The Rules” of Comics As A Whole

In 2000, the comic book artist Scott McCloud published the book Reinventing Comics: How Imagination and Technology Are Revolutionizing an Art Form, in which he made several predictions about the necessary changes that would need to occur in the field of comics in order for the medium to survive, with a major focus on the Internet and webcomics. One interesting idea McCloud proposed was the concept of “the infinite canvas,” the idea that a comic could have limitless storytelling potential thanks to the almost limitless size and space offered by a webpage.

In the year of 2000, the art of the webcomic was in its infancy, consisting mainly of typical comic strips like you’d see in newspapers, leading to a lot of skeptical response to these ideas-- but as it turns out, McCloud was basically completely correct. We’ve seen this from the long vertical formats typical of many Korean webtoons like The Sensual M and Chinese manhua like Tamen de Gushi to the textlogs, flash games, and fully animated segments of the ambitious multimedia-mishmash Homestuck.

Of these examples, however, I think Carroll’s techniques are closest to what McCloud had in mind when he proposed the infinite canvas. His Face All Red famously had the wonderful, wordless sequence of the protagonist descending deep into a hole, depicted by the downward scroll of the reader. When The Darkness Presses switched deftly between standard “real world” pages, long vertical dream sequences, and the dramatic horizontal reveal of what lay behind the door.

To this day, I think Carroll’s most impressive use of the infinite canvas is still Margot’s Room. Initially presented as a month-long event during October 2011, Margot’s Room starts with a grim poem over a grim image, with every important word in the poem relating to a part of the picture, which the reader would click to go to a new part of the story. Each week, a new line of the poem would be revealed alongside a new link, with the last part being released, of course, on Halloween. This creative use of hyperlinks is interesting enough, but the final, shocking scene is almost breathtaking- the events are violent, chaotic, and wild, heightened only by the wide spread of panels over a massive, empty blackness, linked only by words and furious splashes of blood. It’s something that couldn’t really exist in print comics (unless on a much smaller scale) and seeing how effective it is here, it almost make one wonder why it’s not more widespread among webcomic artists.

Without the limits of the printed page, Carroll has a better opportunity to break the typical conventions of sequential art. But she actually goes beyond that, using the medium of the Internet in even more creative ways than McCloud imagined. Besides her use of hyperlinks in Margot’s Room, links are also used to tell the non-linear “story” of Grave of The Lizard Queen, or show two sides to a tragic tale in The Three Snake Leaves. Carroll even employs animation in her work, to an extent. An animated GIF in Out Of Skin conveys the horror of seeing something terrible just out of the corner of your eye, and a certain “trick” panel in All Along The Wall may make you jump out of your skin if you don’t know what exactly it’s going to do. And that’s how it’s brilliant- comic panels aren’t supposed to change, after all. Carroll knows that, and knows just how to use the reader’s unconscious knowledge of the rule of well of course comic panels are always static against them. You don’t think twice about it... until the rule is broken.

Breaking “The Rules” of Storytelling

One of my favorite examples of Carroll’s unique take on the infinite canvas is in When The Darkness Presses. Despite being a short comic released all in one go, it’s presented as a recently completed longform webcomic, complete with animated ad banners. I don’t want to spoil what becomes of these ads later, but it’s very interesting to point out that one of them is for “Alo-Glo,” the skin product that features heavily in Some Other Animal’s Meat. This is especially interesting once you realize that Some Other Animal’s Meat is technically a sequel to When The Darkness Presses.

I say “technically,” because it’s actually entirely possible to read both comics and not know this, the way I first did. They’re two different self-contained stories that just happen to involve two characters at two points at their life.

There’s no real meaning to it- and in a way, this is perhaps Carroll’s favorite rule to break: the all-encompassing question of what does it all mean?

Ever since His Face All Red, Carroll has faced this question, or at least variants of it. How did the man’s brother come back? What was that thing in the hole? In a 2014 interview with Hazlitt, Carroll admits to feeling self-doubt when readers began clamoring for concrete answers:

“People were saying, ‘What’s the meaning of this? What’s the meaning of this?’ and … I felt very much like, I need to justify this somehow, otherwise they will see that I am a faker that has faked my way into some kind of Internet buzz, so there has to be a one-to-one meaning for everything.”

Thankfully, Carroll has been able to move past this initial doubt- I believe, very much for the better. Leaving unanswered questions is almost a trademark of Carroll’s now- from the tree in Out of Skin to the “mystery man” in The Groom to the door in When The Darkness Presses. The thing that plagues the main character of Some Other Animal’s Meat. The voice that calls Regan to the river in The Hole The Fox Did Make. The list goes on.

And it’s not just monsters. From early on in my love of Carroll’s works, I began to notice connecting threads through many of her comics. What did it mean that His Face All Red draws attention to “a tree with leaves that looked like ladies’ hands” (similar to the tree in Out Of Skin) and “a stream that sounded like dogs growling” (a sentence almost identical to how the stream in Margot’s Room is described)? What did it mean that The Hole The Fox Did Make and The Groom featured Regan, or that All Along The Wall is technically a prequel to a comic from Through The Woods? What did it mean that events of When The Darkness Presses are brought up by the main characters years later in Some Other Animal’s Meat?

The answer, of course, is that there is no answer- other than the answers and ideas that begin to form in our heads when we’re presented with an unsolved mystery. Ever since early humans looked up at the stars and put together shapes in the gaps, the nature instinct of human beings drives us to pick patterns out of randomness. Our brains try to find meanings or answers where there is none, whether we want to or not, or even if we are aware of our minds doing so or not. And of course, this almost whimsical trait of ours is also one of our most massive burdens- the horror of imagination. The infinite possibility of the conclusions each person reaches on their own will always be far, far more frightening than any single answer a writer can give.

In a way, Carroll’s most mundane “broken rule” may be her most powerful tool. In the age of endless theories and fiction analysis, in the light of humanity’s eternal, inescapable desire for the solutions for every puzzle, Carroll’s works are unanswerable. And because of this, I think the unexplained monsters of Carroll’s works are some of the scariest in fiction.

Funnily enough, despite basing this essay around the concept of breaking rules, I stated early on that I don’t think Carroll herself sees her approaches to sequential art like that. While researching for this essay, I came across an interview by The Comics Journal with Carroll from 2011, not too far after the runaway success of His Face All Red. It’s a great interview, but what probably stuck with me most is Carroll’s description of how she approaches comics:

“It stems more from just what I think will be most fun, really. And since—when I started doing comics—I’d never done comics for print, I wasn’t in the mindset of doing pages anyway, which maybe led to me not really adhering to that standard when I started in on my own attempts. I like the idea of scrolling just because it’s fun to play around with revealing images that way, but you can play around with the same thing using page turns too really.”

I wanted this essay to be a tribute to one of my favorite artists, but I also initially intended it to be a way to encourage artists to shake up typical comic conventions and try to create unique art. Upon reading this quote, however, I realized that I had one more thing to learn from Carroll, one thing I want artists to know as well. Carroll has carved out her own, unique approach to sequential art, and in the process has happened to buck several storytelling conventions. You too can learn from this and know that you have the freedom to break these same rules- but perhaps the most important thing to take away from this is that Carroll does this because she has fun doing this. Carroll’s comics work not just because they break the rules, but also because she enjoys creating them.

Your own unique style should be what is most enjoyable for you. Creating new and unique artwork is all well and good, but what will make or break your art are the feelings you have while creating it.

And if you have fun in breaking rules, then more power to you.

All of Emily Carroll’s online works can be found on her personal site (general NSFW warning for nudity and disturbing content). You can buy Carroll’s anthology Through The Woods here.

#emily carroll #wwydd #wwydd?#through the woods #his face all red

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wendyimmiller · 5 years

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Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden

We bought our first house in 1986. Not long afterwards, we met the neighbor from three doors down. His name was Ethan Becker. His grandmother and mother wrote the first Joy of Cooking. Among many other things, he was working on an updated edition, which would publish in 1997.

Ethan lived in “Cockaigne”, the Bauhaus home which his father had designed. The kitchen was surprisingly tiny, but the landscape was expansive, about eight acres. One of our favorite parts about it was a wildflower garden his mother, Marion Rombauer Becker, had planted, beginning, I’m guessing, in the early 1940s. This garden featured prominently in the 1971 classic, Wild Wealth, which she co-wrote with Paul Bigelow Sears and Frances Jones Poetker, and was illustrated by Janice Rebert Forberg. From the book, one can envision a garden that was filled in its heyday with an unbelievable assortment of plants. However, by the late ’80s and ’90s, it hosted a dwindling number of species. Things like trillium were losing out to the growing population of deer, but dogtooth lily, Solomon’s seal, hellebores, daffodils, winter aconite, snowdrops, Leucojum, and a few others persisted in quantity. It was magical in early spring, and we enjoyed walking the mixed woods with our two young boys.

Spent hellebore leaves and winter aconite.

Ethan was a lot of fun. Driven by one of the most adventurous intellects I’ve ever known, he enjoyed a life of travel, loads of friends, and amazing hobbies. My dream life if I ever have the means. Conversations with him meandered far and wide through any number of subjects, but especially history, politics, food, agriculture, and horticulture. I always left wanting more.

His Fourth of July parties were the stuff of legend! Lots of interesting people, amazing food, an endless supply of really good beer and wine, every kind of firework, and the occasional blast from a scaled down replica Civil War cannon that would rock your chest. The boom would echo back from the surrounding hills for what seemed like days. Gotta say, you could do a lot worse than to attend a party thrown by the guy left minding the Joy of Cooking family enterprise!

But time passed, as it does. Our kids grew up and moved on, and so did Ethan. He married a wonderful woman from Tennessee, and they found a place well off the path in the eastern mountains of Tennessee. We lost touch.

The property was sold to a developer who razed the house and built nine McMansions. Just enough woods carved with ravines was left, however, to give us a little hope that the wildflower garden, or parts of it, remained. We also moved. Just a tenth of a mile up the road, we ensconced ourselves in an old farmhouse we had long drooled over. Although close, we never went back to check out the wildflower garden because we’d have to cross private property to get to it.

But, finally, last year we did. Another lot abutting the old Becker property was sold and a house was being constructed and suddenly we had—for a short window—easy access.

On my first visit, I found a few patches of winter aconite and daffodils. A few weeks later, I went back, bringing my wife Michele with me, and we ventured a bit closer to the houses. There, almost in the backyards, we came across some Solomon’s seal, snowdrops, winter aconite, and a sea of hellebores. Even some Epimedium. Sadly, the rest is gone, lost to an out of control deer population and competition from Amur honeysuckle. We poked around for quite some time. At one point I turned to Michele to find tears streaming down her cheeks. We were both filled with emotions that we could not focus. Were we happy for what we’d found, sad for what was missing? Was it longing for times gone by and friends that had gone? Was it that emotion that cripples you when your mind dwells too long on children who have grown? We didn’t know.

A few natives continue to hang on.

I started to write a blog about this experience, but decided I needed more time to process. What was the story? Was it the emotions we had experienced during our visits, or was it something completely apart? As gardeners, we find ourselves planting things that will supersede our years, knowing full well they will be at the mercy of whomever currently owns the deed. Was that the story? Maybe it was just an excuse to mull over the role of exotic plants persisting where most of the natives no longer did, blooming early and supporting those first foraging non-native honeybees.

I was nagged by the feeling that there buried somewhere deep in all this was a potential masterpiece, but here, a year later, I’m tired of trying to find it. Right or wrong, I’m just going to go with what I’ve got.

At the beginning of March, I wrote a newsletter for our Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden’s Plant for Pollinators program. This is the 2nd year of a program designed to inspire the Zoo’s visitors and those touched by our horticultural outreach, many of whom are new homeowners and potential gardeners, to plant and register pollinator gardens. In short, actually do conservation in their own backyards. In the newsletter, I mentioned that a few early March bloomers like snowdrops and winter aconite provide pollen and nectar for early foraging bees.

That afternoon, I received an email from someone who identified themselves as a volunteer for a nature center in the region, which is actually even a partner in the Zoo’s program. He wanted to know why I hadn’t mentioned native wildflowers. Then he accused snowdrops and winter aconite of being invasive (they’re not) and the Zoo of profiting from selling these plants (we don’t). The Zoo abides by findings of the Ohio Invasive Plant Council—indeed my boss had served on the board during the years they developed their science-based protocol. Although I was angry, I diplomatically defended our program and my reason for mentioning the early blooming bulbs. These plants bloom very early, even before most of the ephemerals this person had wanted me to write about, and serve early foraging honeybees. I mentioned also that I intended to write about the ephemerals in the April newsletter, when they would actually be in bloom.

Having fired off that email, which actually prompted a fairly friendly reply, I thought again about Marion Rombauer Becker’s garden for the first time in a while. How many of her favorite plants are gamely forging on many years after her passing and her son’s departure to Tennessee and quietly providing ecological services. Yes, for a world far from pure, and yet for a world that still at least functions. Ironically, the family that willed the nature center the property it sits on were friends with the Beckers. Their garden features prominently in Marion’s section of Wild Wealth. They shared the same gardening aesthetic. It’s a shame a few of their vestige snowdrops and winter aconite are now considered a scourge on the land by some, especially at a time when lesser celandine is threatening to cover it like a lake.

In the end, I’m thinking that leaving behind some hellebores and Leucojum that persevere for decades in some wedge of green space no developer can bulldoze is not a bad thing. If, along the line, those plants in that garden gave Marion Becker pleasure, and young Ethan an appreciation of nature and horticulture, and maybe his son too, that was good. And, if it also happened to give a young family a place to explore its delights together, that too was splendid.

And now I know what I need to do. As maybe one of just a very few people who know the story of what those plants are and why they are there, I must tell their story to the people who live there now. I bet they don’t know. That garden has sustained people over time like a sourdough, and I should at least give one or more of them the chance to knead it, to see what rises, to keep the wildflower walk and its story, alive.

Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden originally appeared on GardenRant on March 23, 2020.

The post Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden appeared first on GardenRant.

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turfandlawncare · 5 years

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Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden

Spent hellebore leaves and winter aconite.

But, finally, last year we did. Another lot abutting the old Becker property was sold and a house was being constructed and suddenly we had—for a short window—easy access.

A few natives continue to hang on.

Although I’ve been nagged by the feeling that buried somewhere deep in all this was a potential masterpiece, here I am a year later tired of trying to find it. And so, right or wrong, I’m just going to go with what I’ve got.

Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden originally appeared on GardenRant on March 23, 2020.

The post Lingering Plants from a Long Gone Garden appeared first on GardenRant.

from GardenRant https://ift.tt/2vGvB3A

#GardenRant

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