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hybridfanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Picture Perfect

Cat Hybrid Jaebum x Reader

Word Count: 3,190

◇

“How’s your project coming along?”

“Almost done actually! I got my mom and grandparents to sit for me, and it only took me about a month. Just trying to get the shading right at this point.”

“Lucky you. I had to start at the beginning of class, and I’m only just now finishing it since it took me forever to even find a model.”

“Well, we still have a week until the final piece is due. If you’re this close to finishing, then there’s no need to worry.”

As you eavesdrop on the conversation in front of you, you realize why you’ve had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind. To your horror, you’ve forgotten all about the portrait project that was due at the end of this art class. I mean, it was only 40% of your grade, no big deal that you were an idiot and now had to rush to finish a full 18x24 portrait - never mind figure out what it would be about or find someone to sit for you. The only sure thing was that you would have to use acrylics instead of oil paints since the former dried in a matter of hours.

You groan and press your fingers to the throbbing pulse on your temple as a headache grew. You had made the mistake of taking six classes this semester, and between everything you had to do for all of those classes and the new addition to your home mere months earlier you supposed something was bound to have escaped your notice. You just wish it hadn’t been something worth so much of your grade.

“Wow, are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.”

Your classmate Yugyeom leans over right into your face, causing you to blush as you playfully swat him away. He’d only recently started sitting next to you, as the two of you had discovered you had four classes together and started talking. He was really sweet and cute, but you weren’t sure where things were going. He sometimes seemed like he was flirting, but other times he gave you clear friend vibes. He was really confusing, but thankfully you had too much on your plate to seriously give pursuing him much of a thought.

“I feel like I’m going to puke. I forgot all about the final project.”

“You’re kidding! Dude, I had mine done like three months ago. You’re usually ahead of me on everything. What happened?”

You huff, completely annoyed with yourself.

“I don’t know. I just overreached this semester, and on top of that, I adopted a hybrid a few months ago. He took up a lot of my concentration.”

Yugyeom nods knowingly. “I have one too, a cat, so I know how you feel. Bam’s an ass sometimes, but he��s awesome. What’s yours?”

“Jaebum’s a cat too. I wasn’t even planning on a hybrid, especially not while I was still in college and at the beginning of the semester too, but I couldn’t resist. They were having some weekend event near a park and I made the mistake of making eye contact as I passed by. He was so cute I couldn’t resist.”

Yugyeom chuckles. “Yeah, sounds familiar. Listen, I had an idea. You don’t know what you’re going to paint yet, right?”

“Not a clue.”

“Right. Paint me and Bam Bam!”

Your mouth drops as you gaze at Yugyeom with hope.

“Really?”

“Yeah! Bam would love it and I would be happy to accept the finished painting as payment when the professor returns them after grading. What do you say?”

“I think you just saved my life. I accept.”

Yugyeom grins and slings his backpack on, standing up to leave.

“Great. Bam Bam is going to be excited. Can we come by tomorrow? I’m off work then, but if another day works better we can figure something out.”

“No, tomorrow is fine. God, thank you so much. I’ll text you the address.”

“Awesome. See you later!”

You wave as he leaves the classroom, quickly send the text of your address before you forget, then gather your own things. Visions of your portrait becoming more clear now that you had a subject. You sigh with relief as you head home, thanking the powers that be for making Yugyeom so nice.

◇

“Jae, I’m home!” you yell as you close the door behind you and throw your bag near the kitchen table.

Jaebum’s head pops out of the bedroom, grinning and twitching his tail.

“Hey. Dinner should be done by the time you’re finished with your shower.”

You roll your eyes and head towards the bathroom, as usual finding a pair of comfy sweats and a shirt already waiting for you in there.

Jaebum was a sweetheart, but he was incredibly possessive of you. He’d never had a home outside of the hybrid shelter and wasn’t used to having anything of his own, so naturally, he clung to the one thing that had ever been his alone.

He was fairly nice to the handful of your friends that he’d met as long as they maintained a respectful distance from you, something Jackson had learned the hard way and had a scar on his hand to show for it. Random strangers or hybrids were out of the question. You might as well have been President and bodyguard with the way Jaebum acted whenever you went outside together.

This was also the reason why he refused to get near you until you took a shower whenever you got home. He always claimed you reeked of hundreds of other people and hybrids and it drove him crazy. So no matter what, as soon as you got home you were to jump straight in the shower then allow him to scent you. His compromise was to take over dinner, which you’d been more than happy to hand over to him. It was nice to have a meal to come home to after a long day.

With your shower done, you present yourself to the waiting hybrid on the couch. Jaebum is quick to place you on his lap and begin rubbing his face all over your neck, purring and sniffing in a few areas, tickling you with his warm breath. You were always glad for your human senses not being able to pick out whatever he was rubbing on you because you had a feeling it was pretty potent. You’d seen other hybrids wrinkle their noses at you before so you guessed Jaebum laid it on pretty thick. You were basically a walking ‘hands off’ sign.

A timer dinged in the kitchen, so Jaebum sighed and reluctantly let you slide off of him so he could go take something out of the oven. The table was already set, so you simply sat down and waited.

“Ah, this is the life. Coming home to a nice hot supper without lifting a finger,” you giggle, only for it to become outright laughter as Jaebum gives you a look filled with mock disgust.

“Spoiled human,” he mutters with a tiny smile, carrying a big tray to set in the middle of the table.

“Thankful human. What’s on the menu?”

“Tuna casserole, dinner rolls, and a salad for you since you insist on having disgusting vegetables in the house.”

“Hey, I’m human. I actually need those veggies to stay alive, JB. You want me to live, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“I can feel the love,” you chuckle, giving the casserole a quick sniff. He made this one a lot, as it was one of his own favorites, but it was really good.

The meal was awesome, as usual, and you spent the rest of the evening relaxing and chatting with Jaebum. The next day was Saturday and you had no classes, so both of you simply rested and cuddled on the couch watching television until it was time for bed.

You had an odd feeling you’d forgotten something though.

◇

You were stuffing your mouth with cereal and laughing as you and Jaebum watched cartoons and talked about what you wanted to do this weekend. He kept saying there was some concert in town he wanted to go to, but he seemed to forget that hundreds of other people would be going to this thing, not to mention this one was famous for playing in the middle of the downtown square. Meaning all the attendees were literally standing on the little jet fountains and purposely getting soaked. You decided to keep that part to yourself. It would be worth going and getting drenched just to watch Jaebum freak out over his precious fluffy tail getting wet.

When the doorbell rang, both of you jumped in surprise and Jaebum’s tail instantly shot high into the air. It flickered nervously as he pulled you behind him and slowly crept towards the door.

“Were we expecting someone?”

You cringe to yourself as you realize you forgot to give Jaebum a heads up about Yugyeom. If there was one thing he hated more than other men in his territory, it was other hybrids in it.

“I’m sorry, JB honey. I forgot all about it. I have a project due for my art class and I have a friend and his hybrid coming to help me.”

Jaebum stares down at you like he can’t believe you would do something like this to him. You feel so guilty.

“I promise, I’m so sorry. Just...be a good boy and I’ll give you whatever you want later.”

He sniffs haughtily and wraps his tail around your waist, pulling you closer as he goes to open the door.

“You better.”

He flings the door open and crosses his arms, staring into the surprised faces of Yugyeom and his adorable hybrid Bam Bam.

“Listen up. You’ll keep your paws to yourselves and stay in my sight at all times. And you...furball. If I catch you scenting anything, I will not hesitate to kick you out on your ass.”

The other’s orange ears and tail twitch as he sniffs with indignation. “Furball? Really? With a tail like that you’re probably hacking up hairballs all over the place and I’m the furball?”

“I don’t hack up hairballs.”

You perk up and glance at Jaebum. “Wait. Is that why I always hear you coughing in the morning?”

“I DON’T HACK UP HAIRBALLS!”

Jaebum throws his hands in the air and stalks towards his usual spot on the couch, glaring at everyone.

You sigh and gesture for the two to come inside, closing the door behind them.

“Anyway. Jaebum, this is Yugyeom and his hybrid Bam Bam. Please be nice because they are doing me a huge favor.”

“What kind of favor?” he asks, his gaze suspicious.

“We’re going to model for her,” Bam Bam purrs with a smirk, and you have the distinct feeling this one was trouble. He was definitely trying to antagonize Jaebum on purpose.

“Excuse me?” Jaebum growls, his volume now soft and low. Meaning danger.

You put your palms out placatingly. “For a painting, Jae. I was a dummy and forgot all about my final project, so Yugyeom said he and Bam Bam would sit for me. This project could mean the difference between me passing or failing, so be on your best behavior.”

He doesn’t answer, instead turning back to his show like he was done with everything. Except his ears were still trained towards the three of you and his tail was flicking high above him.

“So, where do you want me?” Yugyeom asks, smiling brightly like a hybrid showdown didn’t almost occur in your living room.

“The window bench right over there. Relax and get in a position you can handle holding for a while. Just give me a moment to grab my paints.”

Jaebum jumps up to help you carry the tall easel into the room as well as the table for your paints. Once everything is in place you finally look at the pair again.

Yugyeom and Bam Bam are looking pretty cozy, lounging across the pillows on the window bench with their legs and hands entangled and Bam Bam’s head laying against Yugyeom’s shoulder. The sun lends a warm glow over the pair, their matching golden rings catching the light as they stare at each other fondly and...oh.

Well. That explains that.

Your fingers move quickly as you pencil sketch the scene to try and capture as much as you can today.

“So...” you clear your throat and peek at the two with a teasing grin. “How long have the two of you been together?”

Yugyeom flashes you a guilty grin while Bam Bam’s purrs merely increase in pitch as he watches Yugyeom with love shining in his eyes.

“Caught that, huh? It’s been about three years. He was my hybrid growing up, but we didn’t start anything until I went off to college and he decided to follow me. Literally. He waited two days before he hopped a bus and found my dorm room by scent and moved himself in.”

“Like you wouldn’t have missed me and begged me to come anyway. I was just saving your dignity.”

You giggle at their teasing. “You guys are cute.”

Yugyeom nods towards Jaebum. “What about you guys? You said you adopted him fairly recently, right?”

“Yeah, beginning of the semester. Um, I don’t know. We’re still getting to know each other, I think. Although I’m sure you noticed he’s pretty protective of me, so I guess that means he tolerates me at least.”

“You also reek of him. Smells like mate to me,” Bam Bam grinned with a wrinkled nose.

“Mate?”

“Oh yeah. That stench isn’t the regular this is mine scent. It’s this one is mated fuck off,” Bam Bam explained with a very poor impression of what you guessed was supposed to be Jaebum’s voice.

“Huh,” you mumble, pausing your drawing to peek over at Jaebum. His eyes are still trained firmly on the television, but his cheeks are flushed. He was definitely listening to the conversation, but he didn’t immediately refute Bam Bam’s claims. He just sat over there quiet and blushing. Was it true?

You shake your head and focus on your work, steadily getting everything down. Jaebum only had to interrupt you a couple times to get you to have something to drink and let everyone take a bathroom break. He’d gotten used to doing that, as he’d learned that you would often work seven or more hours straight until you were practically fainting of hunger if left without supervision. Finally, when the last bit of natural light disappeared and your fingers ached, you laid everything down with a sigh and called it a day.

Bam Bam and Yugyeom sat up and stretched before coming around to look at the canvas. Jaebum quickly jumps up and joins, wrapping his tail around your waist possessively, and using himself as a buffer between you and the pair.

“Wow, I almost wish the project was for a pencil sketch, because this is perfect as is,” Yugyeom exclaimed, appraising the canvas with a raised eyebrow.

“You think?” you ask, staring at the piece. It was hard to judge your own stuff, as you were overly critical of everything you did.

Yugyeom nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. I’m excited to see the final work.” He grabs Bam Bam’s hand and leads him toward the door.

“We’re going to head out, it’s pretty late and I need to get him fed. Good luck. Oh, it was nice meeting you, Jaebum!”

Your hybrid barely acknowledges them, grunting something that you supposed was some sort of farewell before heading back to the couch. You shake your head and wave until they reach their car before shutting the door and plopping down next to Jaebum.

“Sorry I just sprung that on you. Thanks for being good about it.”

“It was fine. They were alright, I suppose.”

He said it with such an air of nonchalance that you giggled, knowing full well that it had probably taken everything in him to keep his mouth shut. It had probably helped when he learned the two were together and therefore had no designs on you.

“So...is it true?”

What you were asking about apparently needed no explaining as the blush from before built on his cheeks again as he silently shrugged.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Eventually,” he mumbled quietly, pulling his tail into his lap.

“Why eventually?”

“Humans need time for that kind of stuff right? Hybrids don’t. We can smell when someone is our mate right away. I didn’t want to scare you off and I didn’t even know if you were open to thinking of hybrids like that. You’re good about not treating me like a pet, but a boyfriend is a whole different thing.”

You nod thoughtfully as he explains. It’s true, you probably would have freaked at the thought of dating a hybrid when you’d first gotten him. But now you knew him well and were aware that he was perfectly able to make his own decisions. You realize the thought of dating Jaebum makes you excited, the idea of calling him your boyfriend and going on real dates with him making your heart flutter a bit. You basically acted like a couple already, you just needed the label.

“What if I said I was okay with it?”

Jaebum’s head swirls to stare at you, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You want to be my mate?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes narrow as if in disbelief. “You realize mating means for life, right? At least for me. You might be able to move on, but you’d be it for me.”

“I remember reading that, yes. And I still want to do it.”

Jaebum’s happy rumbles fill the air as he pulls you towards him, mashing your lips together in a very unpracticed but no less satisfying kiss. He nuzzles your cheeks and neck happily, licking a long stripe up your neck.

“Remember how you said I could do whatever I wanted if I was good and didn’t punch that cocky cat in his piehole?”

“I don’t remember those exact words coming out of my mouth, but sure.”

“I want cuddles all night tonight, and then tomorrow we are going to the concert downtown.”

Images of Jaebum wet and outraged, holding his formally fluffy tail to his chest fill you with happy giggles.

Jaebum tightens his hold on you and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Also, you’re only painting me from now on.”

“Sure thing, love. Anything you want.”

#got7 #got7 jaebum #got7 fanfic #hybrid #hybrids #hybrid au #hybrid fanfiction #hybrid!got7 #hybrid!jaebum #cat hybrid!jaebum #lim jaebeom #jaebum #JB #Jaebeom #au #hybrid!au

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bladekindeyewear · 6 years ago

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Boots reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 7 - Meat Page 26

==>

Back on to Jade swimming into the singularity or something. (And trying to stop thinking that maybe Candy ends with a giant polyamorous relationship and/or orgy, because I don’t imagine Rose would have acted so tamely if that’s what she saw.)

Yes, Time is the complement of Space, that was already confirmed in comic if it wasn’t super incredibly obvious all along anyway.

Gah, I’m getting stomach cramps again.

Yeah, too much Space makes Time invisible and vice versa? Or...

Maybe Dave broke her heart a little, and he keeps doing it too, no matter how many different timelines they try out.

God damnit these CRAMPS. Reading further.

Like a garden, where Jade used to spend so much of her time with her hands in the earth and her head in the clouds, dreaming about flowers that bloomed in six colors and grew when she played them a song. Was that real? It’s hard to tell. But it made her happy, didn’t it?

FUCK are you going to start making me doubt the reality of the liFe we saw her living early in-comic????? Cut it out, it’s unsettling!

Alright, alt!Callie is taking the reins from Dirk on this narrative he so smugly thought he could completely consume. That’s good/bad.

slutty adult Jade

FUCKING YIKES!! FUCK YOU DIRK!

FUCK I DIDN’T NEED HER DEATH DESCRIBED IN SUCH DETAIL EITHER. Also alt!Callie’s really embodying Death here.

==>

Pff. Calliope’s writing the story now, in a sense, like she always kind of wanted.

Also pff, this version of her doesn’t know how to describe human stuff colorfully. :)

An adversarial dichotomy between your opposing goals, huh? This might end up as a “none of us can really write the ending” ending that DOES leave it up in the air for everyone else to decide instead.

Fuck, now you’re having THIS Jade suffer by proxy by experiencing the other Jade’s memories. This metatextual ascension’s happening to everyone isn’t it.

Yeah, she’s done it before and stuff--

when jade turns to look at roxy, her eyes are completely black.

FUCK.

my presence shall mitigate, if not altogether subdue, the corrosive effect on reality and the will of its occupants by those who would manipulate the way events are telegraphed for their own megalomaniacal objectives.

Well, fuck. Jade’s been temporarily hijacked for the rest of the story AGAIN, like back in Condesce days, this time as a plot device to keep Dirk from overreaching with his god powers and stepping over everyone’s wills like an Ultimate Riddle style villain. Dirk, I mean. Being the villain. And alt!Callie just doing what she has to to put this back on track. Man I HATE it when Jade’s will doesn’t get to be on full display. Her will is awesome. (Also, alt!Callie just tacitly confirmed that the will of reality’s occupants matters, if that wasn’t obvious already, so ha.)

despite his pretensions to a greater design, the prince of heart cannot be allowed to continue to exert unchecked control over the authoritative recitation of events on this side of my horizon. it cannot be overstated the extent to which he represents a threat to the continued existence of both this world and corporeal life itself.

Yeah, it was indeed looking that way earlier.

Ooh, alt!Callie is really spot-on with her pronoun use.

Alright, Dirk’s voice is shrinking away, and my stomach still feels half-clenched.

Wow, alt!Callie’s really mad at what Dirk’s been doing with this epilogue.

==>

“EPILOGUE FIVE”?????

Did I miss the titles for one, three, and four??? Yeah there were probably there and I just missed them or something.

Pfffff, John looks/smells like shit. :D

...too fresh??

Fuck you John for thinking Monty Python and the Holy Grail isn’t a masterpiece. :P

terezi tips her head to one side, with what john personally regards as a cute expression, one he believes is unique to her. whether he’s correct or not, it’s his belief that there is no one else who emotes in this manner. it’s both quizzical and mocking, two descriptors that he considers to be an apt summation of her personality as well.

Niiiiice. Nice linguistic description of her “>:?” expression.

have no desire to interject thoughts into others’ minds, or to sway intent. nor do i see value in masking the reality of the emotions that i transcribe. this is how he feels. his mind, however, has made a habit of being less clear about his thoughts than i am willing to be.

Oh thank fucking god, I don’t have to question everyone’s thoughts anymore. Until Dirk comes back or something, I dunno.

Oh my fucking god, alt!Callie, you total voyeuristic nerd.

he fears he is in danger of seeming like the type of creepy human male who is likely to collect large pillows bearing the illustrated images of japanese earth females. to me, this idea means nothing. but it is causing him to sweat.

This is one very relatable snippet of text.

Feed Terezi Feed Terezi Feed Terezi

WHY is the gold tooth poisonous??????? ...Wait, Caliborn affixed it to his mouth intentionally. He had every right and motive to make it poisonous for no good reason. Ugh.

Beep beep, let’s find Vriska.

==>

WHAT

WHAT JANE

WHAT THE FLYING FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING

JESUS

Using Trickster Mode as a drug to further one’s political performance. That’s fucking horrifying. No wonder it was on the triggers list.

additionally, it prevents one from dwelling on any given personal problems, or the greater implications of any political statements one might make.

Pff, mhmm.

Problematic, huh? Jane seems like the slightly-old-fashioned sort of person who thinks it’s getting kind of ridiculously silly how much people are caring about stuff being “problematic”. And yet that stuff DOES matter, and ignoring it DOES hurt people, and she not only isn’t seeing that but is drugging herself to see it LESS with that goddamned lollipop. Holy shit.

she turns around promptly, her body jolted by the surprise of her sudden reversal. she bends over, cradles the lollipop reverentially, and situates it carefully in a place signifying respect: atop the mantle, after clearing space for it by shoving several brittle, worthless objects to the floor.

PFFF. Okay, so alt!Callie ISN’T above altering characters slightly from their narrative course when it comes to one of the few things she deems important. Heh.

Having “his control of a shared vehicle fully suppressed”, huh? Does alt!Callie only mean the narrative, or maybe Rose too with whatever weird bullshit he did to her?

Uh, “while the seer both diminishes and ascends”??? D:

--Oh, oh shit. He was planning to NARRATIVE CONTROL Jake into going along with things. D: D:

Yeah, Jake would want to bang all the aliens, really.

Sendificator rifle, or something like that. Got it.

==>

How fucking long is this epilogue, anyway????? I mean, the length is appropriate from an objective point of view, I’m just frustrated because I’m going to have to spend every waking hour liveblog-reading it until I’ve reached the end or I’m likely to fucking explode, and I didn’t want this to be my entire day/weekend/existence again AAGH HOMESTUCK YOU BLACK HOLE

anyway yaay karkat in a suit.

Alluding to assassination attempts? What, is that red rifle going to try and fulfill that old “through the silver screen and straight into my heart” unused foreshadowing-herring from act six, or five, or whenever it was? Five, I believe.

Pff, super pacs, yeah. Dave’s nearly as political as me now or something. Except he actually acts on it here instead of just sitting around talking about it and thinking he’s right all the time, like me.

Wait, JANE ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH with smearing Jake??!??? Holy shit she’s lost touch.

KARKAT: SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF IS ABSOLUTELY HORRENDOUS SUBJECT MATTER FOR PRODUCING CAMPAIGN ADS! KARKAT: NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, OR WHAT POINTS YOU’RE TRYING TO MAKE! DAVE: yeah its awesome

Pfffff.

...yeah, Jake isn’t thinking of ANYTHING except Dirk right now, really.

Oh huh, Dirk HAS been as controlling of Jake as he used to be, now that alt!Callie’s pointing it out. Just with an even more insidious mechanism.

Oh cool, Karkat’s version of the policy pitch! :D :D :D Can’t wait can’t wait reading

(dont lie karkat you totally know shes hot)

Pff, stop making it seem obvious that Dirk wanted to assassinate Jake for political purposes. Heck, even if that WAS his plan it’d just be a temporary death that he’d resurrect from and then they’d try to turn it into... what, some media spin on how Karkat might have been responsible? Or a troll?? That latter part would make things MUCH more xenophobic. I’m starting to get seriously into the politics of this.

==>

Pff, now ‘rezi’s eating tobacco.

...okay, is Terezi REALLY going to go for a real conversation with just an honest ask for one? I don’t think so--

--aaand there she goes laughing, as expected. At least at first.

Yep, Terezi’s wearing the shoes. Nice date gift.

--And yep, Terezi remembers all that. She managed to do the nigh-metatextual mind merge with her other selves WITHOUT even needing God-Tier.

Yeah, Vriska always seemed fit to abandon the kismesis you deserved when it suited her, ‘rezi. :(

JOHN: even worse, i might have tried to fix things MYSELF! TEREZI: OH D34R GOD JOHN: yeah!!!

Yeah I cackled out loud at that.

TEREZI: 34RTH C 1S P3RF3CT 1SNT 1T? TEREZI: BUT NOT FOR YOU TEREZI: YOU DONT *F33L* 1T

john swallows a thick breath. he reminds himself that he never wanted perfection, never asked for it. and yet he feels guilty every day for failing to enjoy it as much as he believes he was supposed to.

Holy shit. John’s survivor’s guilt from all the doomed timelines he witnessed and escaped is keeping him from feeling their victory has been real, and making his “squandering” of it gut his self-esteem too. God damnit.

Roxy and John wouldn’t have worked out????? Hey Terezi, quit it! >:[ That’s not fair, just very plausibly and authoritatively dismissing a ship we’d hoped for offscreen like-- Oh, shit, she’s alluding to something that happened in the Candy side I haven’t read isn’t she. She would DEFINITELY have an idea of what happened on the other side of that Choice Split with her hero role. Fuck what am I in for

....pfff, that Callie vs Dirk bit. It’s like revenge against Doc Scratch, which it kind of IS, really.

I didn’t expect this much time to be spent dwelling on really intimate John/Terezi scenes. It’s really refreshing! Making this kind of meaningful no matter whether it’s black or inexplicably red they end up with or whatever, and equally meaningful if they don’t end up in any sort of relationship at all, really.

even without the aid of a juju, he is fortunate enough to be blessed with the only true form of divinity. to be released from the prison of nonsensical inhibitions which so often psychologically hobble the more primitive forms of life.

Alt!Callie, are you causing this? I thought you wanted to be impartial.

Okay, THAT finally brought things suitably closer to the black side of romance like I would have expected.

==>

their finger hovers over dirks number for a moment, but... no. that would not be a good idea. they don’t know why they suddenly think it’s a bad idea. it just is.

Okay, THAT shred of influence is fair. You DID say you were going to countermand his influence, so yeah.

Good excuse to get narration of her thoughts, if flimsy. :)

Lord save me from this fake woke nightmare.

Pfffff. Fuck you, Dirk. ;)

ROXY: guess ill just open the damn curtains and let some light in here

FUCK you’re going to kill JADE aren’t you???? You’re giving Jade a TEMPORARY DEATH just to deny alt!Callie’s proxy?!?? That’s fucking insidious! Fuck you, Dirk!!! That one wasn’t a loveable joke this time, that was an ACTUAL fuck you. This epilogue is really good at making him out to be the villain now that his powers have expanded to the narrative.

Reading reading reading...

...Huh. Is Roxy talking about coming out as non-binary and getting advice on it? Hm!

Alright, and she’s defs a little gay for Callie from what she’s saying if it wasn’t clear before. If “gay” even has any relevance when you’re talking about a pair of non-binary... yeah whatever. :)

Alright, time to hear Dave talk about it all some more I guess.

--Yep, he’s only mostly gay. Called it. There’s a whole spectrum.

...and yeah, I mean... why NOT let it go beyond quadrants with Karkat and never slap an official label on it? You’re just two people who love each other and want to spend time together in any capacity, be it positive or negative. It doesn’t have to result in anything formal unless you want it to, much less boning down or something. Dirk, stop getting creepy with how hard you’re shipping them, that’s the fanbase’s job.

Jade and Roxy are visible from this location, right? Wasn’t it mentioned that they live in a tower in Carapaceville or whatever? Has Dirk successfully conned alt!Callie into having her vessel shot through? Probably.

the ongoing corruption of his cerebrally impaired daughter.

Eewwwwweweewww

Anyway yeah here comes the plot twist or whatever...

Yeah, Callie gets it wrong, and--

......ah, a tranq? That makes more sense and is more than slightly less evil, if still ultimately evil given his eventual presumed goals or whatever.

DIRK: Like the bitch she is.

FUCK YOU

Oh, Jade’s going to be asleep for the rest of the story? AGAIN?!???? FUCK YOU SO MUCH, DIRK.

Jesus christ. How long is this epilogue anyway.

Taken your leave? From this planet??? What the fuck, are you--

Oh. Oh shit.

When Dirk ascended into absorbing the memories of all his various split selves, did he get a heaping helping of DOC SCRATCH in there too??? Was Doc Scratch’s ambition actually for POST-victory ascension in this very manner? FUCK. Either way, him sharing some of those memories puts a pretty unique spin on his descent into goddamn evil, here.

Reading on... oh shit, did Callie write the candy half??

==>

Huh, postcoital; we actually went there. Cool.

Ah, she gives up on Vriska? Better find Vriska really fast, then.

Oh, you’re really going? Or, trying, anyway.

==>

Really committed to this whole ascending to literal godhood schtick, aren’t you, Dirk?

(Hm. Makes me almost think that this situation with Rose is going to end up with someone splitting her essence entirely in two to save her; her raw Seer-ness getting forced into a convenient vessel (cueball, wonk wonk) and herself returning to consciousness a slight bit more mortal than she was before, ie not going completely insane. Hmm.)

Oh, “Vast Fuck” sorta-maybe-confirmed..??

Stop tacitly insulting Jake as you puppet him, Dirk. He’s a dumbass but not THAT much of a dumbass.

beta-bitch

FUCK YOU, DIRK.

She loves you, Jake, more than anything, and you toyed with her heart.

Fuuuuuuck you.

could subsume your entire personality

Shit, he IS trying to pretty much consume them all. Swallow their individuality and take total control of all their actions. All Prince of Heart on the whole world. Dirk you need to fucking DIE.

And to love Dirk is to obey him.

There isn’t a Fuck You large or loud enough to what I feel about the mental violation Dirk is inflicting on Jake right now, and everyone else around him, and I sincerely and selfishly hope this epilogue is almost over because I don’t want too many pages to stand between this one and seeing Dirk fucking PAY.

Jake opens his big, dumb mouth to make the only important contribution to the plot he ever has or ever will make in his whole sad, pointless joke of a life.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU

Let’s hope that in your hubris your looking away managed to let him say something different or some such.

==>

You try to remember if you’ve ever been revived by Jane before. You honestly can’t recall. So much shit has happened. Maybe?

Yeah, I don’t recall either really.

The poison needling through you is antithetical to narrative relevance. You’re not dying, John. You’re being erased. Cherubs don’t fuck around. We’ve both been learning that the hard way.

Okay, fuck? How the hell? Is this just because Dirk says it is, or???

I guess it’s tragic, though maybe not in the conventional sense. My view is, the real tragedy with you, John, is that you never mattered all that much.

Yeah, Dirk’s first fucking rant when he took over the narrative officially was about John being a you-insert nobody average guy, and the DISDAIN he shows to everything about who John is is pretty goddamn insulting. He has NO concept of how John managed to bring everyone together or... UGH!

even though you knew both then and now that it was the only choice you possibly could have made.

Dammit, so it probably WASN’T a full timeline-bisecting Mind split. Just a side branch that wasn’t as likely, because just like with his Denizen, John’s will was tilted toward this part of the choice. D:

I see how some of this seems to be going, or at least think I do... Dirk thinks that John needs to die heroically “for the good of the story”, and something’s potentially going to come in and say “no”? That the whole reason they WON was to essentially be free of that cruel logic once and for all, and that Dirk is gonna get one hell of a smackdown for trying futilely to enforce it in their new post-victory domain??

She listens to him bleed while she smells him die.

--That, and fulfilling bits of foreshadowing for shits and giggles. >:(

Huh, “friable”, didn’t even know that was a word. Just looked it up; you learn something new every day.

Okay what is Dirk planning with the fucking body.

==>

Jane swept the election, of course. I told you I was going to win. After Jake’s incoherent and scandalous heel-turn at Karkat’s ill-fated rally, no amount of esoteric, three-dimensional jpeg artefacts could have salvaged the Vantas campaign.

Ah, but is that what REALLY happened, or what you’re saying happened, about to be overwritten?

Mainly that their BFF Jade has been in a coma for an entire month. They’ve been in and out of the hospital handling her affairs. Her next of kin is listed as John Egbert, and no one’s seen him in ages. It’s like he just disappeared suddenly. Like some great hand came out of the sky and crossed his name off the big list of guys we ever need to give a shit about anymore.

F U C K Y O U

Roxy, after all, and since her big heart-to-heart about the personal politics of queer onion metaphors, and ten stages of galaxy-braining through the many vicissitudes of the phrase “no homo,” Roxy has decided to really step up her gender experimentation. I guess at this point she’s gone beyond Stage Ten. Which I imagine is somewhat like reaching Super Saiyan 2 of gender, and then going even further beyond.

Holy crap, she’s going full Dave Lalonde. That’s pretty sweet.

...Isn’t Terezi like obviously covered in blood and stuff?

ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls

Oh my fucking GOD real!Callie please save the plot. Nuke this self-indulgent Dirkshit.

ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

...This is an allusion to the Candy side I haven’t read, isn’t it? Maybe THAT’s part of what she supplants this bullshit with. Or since it mentions “various combinations”, she’s restoring the possibility to everything that the ending was supposed to have?

This is potentially a real fucking indictment of the idea of a narrative-driven ending when what actually mattered was the characters’ escape from said narrative. :)

ROXY: its like theyre traumatized ROXY: and they think ill drag whatever possessed jade back into our home with me

Okay fuck maybe Callie ISN’T helping. Maybe she’s just so worried about the alternate history she could have lead that she’s retreating into every Candy-like fanfic she can think of. :(

What’s with the phone buzz? The intervention we’ve been hoping for, since Dirk’s making her ignore it?

Oh cool, figures Terezi’s been hearing the narrative all along and just politely not acknowledging the fact that she hears it! Maybe SHE’LL help unfuck this mess. (And according to her, Roxy’s gone full “him” too!)

Fuck fuck fuck Terezi don’t listen to him go against his bullshit instead

Where, canon? Is that where you’re planning to escape back to or some such, with yourself as the author? Is that orange Andrew actually you or some BS?

Dammit.

==>

FUCK, “new body”????

The new body I’ve made for her won’t have much use for her usual ensembles. That’s all I was saying.

FUCK FUCK FUCK it IS the cueball isn’t it. Holy shit. That’s even worse than a robot. FZUCZK

Okay calm down. The Rose part of Rose can be cut away and rescued from this fate somehow, if she isn’t just whole-hog rescued entirely which would also be good. FUCK DIRK

...look purple? What?

DIRK: What’s happening here is the best thing for everybody.

Yeah, go fuck yourself. This shit had better be undone soon.

To finally face the truth. If Rose has been spending more time with me than you, if she’s realizing she resonates more with me due to our natural similarities and finds my presence more rewarding than yours, then what does that say about YOU, Kanaya?

PFFFF. YOU’RE GONNA BREAK UP THE PAIRING JUST SO YOU CAN STEAL HER? HAHAHAHAHAHA NO.

Okay, after THAT page’s last bit of horrid manipulation, this can’t end in any way that doesn’t involve ages of existential and literal torment for Dirk, forever.

==>

Epilogue Seven, huh. One last thing he wants to take care of before getting out of dodge, huh. I see Karkat and Dave’s text colors on screen. Is he going to try to force them to finally bone down or confess? This would be the perfect place for his plan to get fucking stopped.

Homestuck, stop making my fucking stomach clench so hard.

That’s a hell of a disaster Dirk thought up for these guys on that stage.

Part of this whole shitshow might be to tell us that this ending, this “fanfic” of dubious authenticity of an epilogue that Dirk is giving us is how DIRK believes it would end best for everyone involved, but not how everyone else would, ignoring their wills... while also discarding the idea of the epilogue that any individual reader of Homestuck would want in favor of the possibilities he meant to leave open with the ending.

Alright, here comes Dirk NOT forcing them to bone down but rather trying to persuade-brainwash them into a relationship talk.

DAVE: so what youre saying is you believe in me who believes in you

Dave. Please.

Hey, the Gurren Lagaan reference went WAY too long unsaid. Even if Andrew literally didn’t know a thing about said anime when he made the character designs.

I look Dave right in his mind’s eye and tell him to cut it the fuck out. He wants it, you want it, so just go for it, my man. It’s now or never.

DAVE: oh DAVE: same

I feel every brain cell in my immortal body begin to perish in real time.

BAAHAHAHAAHHhahahha FUCK YOU Dirk.

I mean, I want Dave and Karkat together as much as the next guy but FUUUUUUUCK YOU DIRK!!! I want everything you ever wanted to go wrong and shit on you. Their equivocating soft-nearly-mance is strong enough to go even against you, who thinks yourself the narrative fucking Sun.

Oh this is fantastic

I’ve literally been decapitated and that was less unbearable than this.

YES KEEP FALLING APART

You see that twinkle? That’s devotion, you unbelievably dense neutron star of a dumbshit.

Nice callback to... what was it, Dave’s first rant at Tavros to troll him back or whatever?

radially effervescing kaleidoscope of more hot boy peckers than you could ever imagine.

Yep, DEFINITELY a callback to that. I’ll never forget the sick flow of that metaphor.

DAVE: i just keep having thoughts i know id never think

SAVE US DAVE

Dammit, near miss.

The privilege of a Strider Eye Moment is about the most earth-shattering experience a young man will ever have in his life.

Pfff

DAVE: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST LET ME DO THIS MYSELF!!!

yaaaaaayyy

I mean we didn’t save the whole story yet but at least Dirk got fucked over and we still get Davekat intimacy.

That’s pretty classy actually, not getting into detail and just sounding blown the fuck away by it even though he’s Dirk. That’s pretty good.

==>

Something about the height of Rose, roughly Rose-shaped, and wrapped in a cloth. I know she’s gonna love it the first time she sees it.

Oh so it IS a robot body. Well, fuck you a little less than it potentially being the magic cueball, but STILL fuck you.

I may have already mentioned, but I’m a bit too deft at this for my own good. Doing the thing where I tug at the part of someone’s latent thought process that already knows they adore me. That if someone would just pull the stops from their sense of inhibition, they’d realize they would do anything for me.

It’s called killing their soul with your role abilities you ASSHOLE

I hope this crush you filled him with bites you in the fucking ass now that he’s here.

DIRK: I won’t be coming back, Jake.

Oh, so you’re just going to drop the truth on him like that? Let’s see how that works out for you, asshole.

DIRK: Jane needs you now more than ever.

Oh fuck you. This is “best for everyone”, huh?????

DIRK: You’ll just be, you know. DIRK: Her candy boy? JAKE: CANDY BOY??? DIRK: Yeah. Being on call. DIRK: Serving a multimillion-year term of giving her the right kind of “presidential action” she needs to keep going. To keep her morale up and such. DIRK: To provide her with many heirs. DIRK: Doesn’t that sound cool? JAKE: HEIRS??

Um. What the fuck? Is this even Dirk anymore? It’s not Condesce intervention, I’m not going to try and suspect that just from the callback or anythiiiii-----

Fuck, we DID just get an alive Meenah dropped into a universe somewhere.

Maybe this IS Condesce intervention. Just a different Condesce. o_O

Two ticks longer than he ever deserved.

Gah???

DIRK: But I’ll never let you break my heart again.

So this was all just revenge for dumping him??????????????

==>

Guh, back to Kanaya-- wait, why does Dirk want Terezi around, anyway?

Jade wakes up and then-- Okay. Okay my eyes flitted down to the green halfway down the page and I saw this phrase before I actually got to it.

JADE: DIRK STRIDER HAS TO BE STOPPED!!!!!!!!!!

Thank FUCK.

Anyway reading the in-between...

The scope of her awareness, she now understands, is truly staggering. Memories are suddenly accessible that are almost impossible to believe. Some of them are unspeakably marvelous to her. Others, deeply disturbing.

FUCKING COOL she got Ultimate-Selved! Now she knows too much about what’s going on to stop her! Get fucked, Dirk!!!!

No, more than just disturbing. She lingers in the dark recesses of her consciousness. There were things she saw, things she was told... Her mouth twists into a silent snarl. She’s been angry plenty of times before. But never so angry that she stopped being cute. She’s not cute this time.

YEAAAAAHHH JADE GET ANGRY

This had better not be Dirk intentionally riling her up since he still has control of the narrative though.

Next post.

#Homestuck #Homestuck Epilogue #upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #BlastYoBoots

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pscottm · 4 years ago

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The lingering opposition to that cause also was on display this weekend, outside the Virginia State Capitol at a gathering of heavily armed white men – some prepping for a second Civil War, some calling for a white ethnostate. Their speeches were essentially the overtly racist version of President Trump's divisive lament at Mount Rushmore National Memorial Friday about lost heritage and fallen statues. One white nationalist screamed at the crowd to rise up in retaliation: "Removing monuments says, 'I conquered this land!' "

Armed Black protesters

Trump and right-wing commentators frequently depict Black Lives Matter protesters as armed and dangerous. Some armed leftists and Black gun groups have patrolled protest sites, but they're a tiny fraction of the largely unarmed movement.

In recent days, however, Black gun owners have become more assertive at demonstrations across the country. Scenes of dozens of rifle-carrying, Black protesters marching in formation in Georgia went viral over the weekend; the evocation of the Black Panther Party was unmistakable.

In Richmond, too, Black gun clubs have come together to safeguard the protest site. They call themselves a deterrent — a defensive, not offensive, presence. Still, they're not universally welcomed, though many in the anti-gun camp have grudgingly come to accept them after reports of attacks on protest camps by far-right extremists.

Among the small armed contingent at the Lee statue was a poet who goes by the pen name Ray Rosetta. He says he grew up in New Jersey and never considered gun ownership until moving to Richmond. Six years ago, he said, he bought his first gun and joined the NRA. Rosetta recalled his membership card arriving with "a cool gun bag" and some literature with language that made him rethink joining. He let his NRA membership lapse.

"One and done," he said with a laugh.

Instead, Rosetta teamed up with other local Black gun owners, many of whom are also now doing stints at the Lee statue site. He said he's thinking about starting a chapter of the Huey P. Newton Gun Club — a national movement named after a co-founder of the Black Panthers. Rosetta sat under the shade of a tent at the Lee statue site, his semiautomatic rifle at his feet. "That's my baby," he said.

But Rosetta is a reluctant gunman for the movement. He said he still believes the pen is mightier; he'd rather be writing his poems, meditations on life and the women he calls his muses. He's also been moved by what he's seen in the protests.

As the interview was winding down, a couple of volunteers from the protesters' bike patrol approached Rosetta with a plastic bag. Inside were two loaded magazines for a semi-automatic rifle, along with a military-style coin showing Trump and the North Korean leader, Kim Jong Un. The volunteers told Rosetta they'd found the items in trash near the protest site and worried that someone had stashed them there for an attack.

Rosetta didn't know what to make of the items. Were they part of a bigger cache? Did they fall out of someone's bag? None of the possibilities was reassuring. He said agitators have shown up to cause trouble. Others drive by and yell slurs out the window. Rosetta said he believes guns on the premises is staving off a more brazen retaliation against the protests.

Rosetta said he would add the items to an art exhibit he's creating with found objects from protests. It will be called, "Domestic Warfare." He said the ammo is a reminder of why he keeps a pen in one hand, a rifle in the other.

"A lot of people don't believe this is happening," he said. "It's scary. This is happening."

Boogaloo showdown

Early in the morning on the fourth, it looked like a heavily armed luau was about to take place in front of the State Capitol in Richmond.

The Hawaiian shirt-wearing so-called "Boogaloo boys" were starting to arrive, part of an amorphous movement of disenchanted, mostly white men who think another Civil War is inevitable, even necessary, to correct what they consider an overreaching federal government and other societal ills. There's no leader and no cohesion on ideology or goals, no blueprint for what comes after the apocalyptic fight.

In Richmond, the Boogaloo boys were loosely organized by a baby-faced 19-year-old named Mike Dunn, who wore a cherry-red Hawaiian shirt and cowboy boots. A Confederate flag was visible on the back of his belt. In these circles, he's known as "Virginia Knight," part of a year-old network of militias across the state. Dunn said his activism cost him his job with the Virginia Department of Corrections.

"To me, it means we want change, and we're willing to do what we need to do to get that change," Dunn said, offering his definition of the Boogaloo movement.

"We're willing to do what it takes," he said, to safeguard Second Amendment and other constitutional rights he believes are under attack. When told that his words might sound chilling to some people, Dunn shrugged. "It is what it is."

Among the dozens of men in Hawaiian shirts and tactical gear, another kind of demonstrator started to arrive, in skull masks paired with white blazers. They were white nationalists, sporting the insignia and other markers of hate groups.

Dunn and the Boogaloo crew regarded them with suspicion, but greeted them and arranged for the white nationalists to have a turn speaking before the crowd. They all mingled politely for a while, waiting for speeches to begin at 10 a.m.

Then, from around a corner, a group of armed Black protesters showed up, many of the same who patrol the Lee site. The gun-toting Black group stood across the street from the gun-toting white group. Dunn made a beeline to introduce himself: "Thank you all for coming out, make yourselves at home." He told the Black group that they might have differences but that they would all stand together for the Second Amendment.

A military veteran who goes by "Pops" represented the Black group. He had a question.

"Who's going to regulate if anything jumps off?" he asked.

"We just hope it doesn't," Dunn said.

Dunn led the Black group across the street to merge with the bigger group. There were murmurs of disapproval among the white nationalists, but the Boogaloo boys welcomed the Black protesters, each side checking out and complimenting the others' weaponry. The police herded them all down the street, out of the shade, leaving them to swelter in their heavy flak vests.

At one point, a guy in a Hawaiian shirt and tactical gear wished everyone a happy Fourth of July and led the crowd – the white nationalists, the Boogaloo boys, the Black gun group – in a surreal rendition of "America The Beautiful." But the harmony was fleeting. The second the white nationalists took the mic to spew about white genocide, the crowd divided sharply between those who were fine with that rhetoric and those who weren't.

Dunn and most of the Hawaiian shirts rejected the separatist message. They stormed off, enraged by "Nazi wing-nuts" hijacking their rally. They joined the Black protesters in chants to drown out the white supremacists who were peddling a plan for the "peaceful Balkanization" of the country.

Dunn looked dismayed, out of his depth, a teenager who handed hate a bullhorn and came to regret it. Much of the crowd seemed to lose interest in Dunn's message of unity. For some, the time for talk was over. The melting pot had failed. Monuments, streets, patriots were under attack. It was time for Plan B.

"It's time!" a white nationalist speaker said.

"It's time!" the crowd answered.

"It's time for all good men, and good men alone, to come to the aid of their country, of their people, of their civilization!"

The speaker's words grew muffled as Dunn's Boogaloo camp began a chant: "White supremacy sucks! White supremacy sucks!"

#richmond #gun #2nd amendment #boogaloo #nazis #white supremacists #blm #black lives matter #npr #protest #scary #dangerous #statues

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wendyimmiller · 4 years ago

Text

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener

The latest in the on-going correspondence between Marianne Willburn & Scott Beuerlein.

__________________________________

May 14, 2020

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

My heart aches for you and your family coping with the loss of your mother. In a normal year it would be emotionally draining, but right now, with the ability to have less than ten people at the funeral? I am deeply sorry you have had to cope and grieve while normal life is upside down – I cannot imagine. It was this time last year that we lost my father, and that was hard enough.

The arrival of spring has brought back a lot of that tension and sadness. Memory adheres gently to seasons. For years I could not see pumpkins on porches and smell cinnamon in stores without experiencing waves of psychosomatic morning sickness brought on by having not one, but two, romantic Septembers. And now, Dad is messing with spring.

I have had words with him about it. Proper out-loud words to the sky when I’m in the vegetable garden, which is one of the reasons we needed to live somewhere without visible neighbors. That and the outdoor restroom facilities.

I have wondered many times over the last year what Dad would think about my garden now. It is very young, but the last time he saw it, it was a newborn, and for the most part not to be seen. Dad never went in for ornamentals in the same way that he loved his vegetables and the natural world around him. My guess is that he would have nodded gently, raised his eyebrows over some of my kaleidoscope combinations, and then pulled up a chair in the vegetable garden and asked for a beer.

Dad and I in the garden that fed our family during “the college years” in Iowa.

My very earliest memories of a purely ornamental garden and the high ambitions of its creator – a good family friend – are equally strong memories of the bemusement my father felt for such frivolous things. I can still see the marble statues…hear the plans for an amphitheater being discussed with animated hands as mosquitos danced around us in the dusk…and I can still see my father shaking his head.

I must have been ten or eleven and no doubt more focused on one of the wonderful treats Mr. Willson had prepared for us indoors to care what an amphitheater was. Now I routinely stand with gardeners in their Edens and discuss overreaching plans that are based in fantasy and a glass of red wine – including my own.

The only shot I have of Mr. Willson proudly standing in his California foothills garden.

He is gone now too, but I so wish I had had more time to see his garden and his marvelous plans with wiser eyes. I have an aloe pup (of a pup of a pup) he gave me that sits on my desk next to this picture.

Speaking of wiser eyes – or at least, eyes that are now wise enough to recognize how thoroughly un-wise they are – what a brilliant column on the evolution of gardeners in Horticulture this month! No rebuttal from this quarter – you nailed that one. Judging from my young adult children, and my own memories of being supple, invincible and insufferable, it is not only gardeners who go through this “I-know-everything-I’m-a-rock-star” phase.

The fermenters for one. If I am lectured one more time at a party on the merits of lactobacillus by a bearded, gym-ripped Adonis with a koi tattoo on his calf, I may lose my carefully curated reputation as a well-behaved guest. Or as you might say, ‘my shit.’

I get it dude. You can pickle cabbage. So can I. So can three-quarters of the population of Poland. May I assume you’re also fostering a rare sourdough starter you brought back from a hostel in Bratislava last summer?

Whew. That’s obviously been building up.

But as you say (much more wisely, gently, and 100x less arrogantly than I seem to be able to express), it’s payback. I cringe to think of the party-goers I have annoyed with my new gardening discoveries that read to them as ancient history.

And the ones I’m currently annoying for that matter. It’s all relative. Until we leave this Earth with cherubims and seraphims at our heels, there is always someone older and wiser that wants to punch us in the mouth.

Perhaps all this confidence is as it should be. If in those earliest days of discovery, we were to come up against the enormity of all that we know right now that we don’t know, and not experience any wins that made us feel special…made us feel like we alone knew the answer…I think we’d most likely run scared, and turn our talents to ditch digging or politics. I have never felt less able to call myself an expert on growing things than I do now, more than twenty-five years into growing things.

And I feel almost panicked over how little time there is to absorb all that I’m hungry to learn. I’m at it 24/7 and there still isn’t enough time. Life gets so complicated so quickly that dropping everything and offering my unpaid services to Keith Wiley or Fergus Garrett or Panayoti Kelaidis for a year in exchange for knowledge unbound requires that I fake my own death.

One view (amongst hundreds) of Keith Wiley’s garden at Wildside in Devon. Yes, I know we’re back to England and it’s a sore point with you, but when I see a garden like this I realize the enormity of what I have left to learn.

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. Why can’t we have two decades in our twenties? One to try everything and one for keeps. Or is that what our thirties are supposed to be?

But enough of philosophy and supple young joints.

We too have had one of the most glorious springs in memory. Long and lingering, it has allowed so many early bloomers such as epimedium, dicentra (I know, lamprocapnos, &$%@! taxonomists), claytonia, brunnera, trillium, mertensia, narcissus, leucojum, kerria etc. to hold those blooms for weeks – right up until the freezes we had that you sent from the Midwest.

Self-seeded and superb – Brunnera macrophylla

Even the sanguinaria held on longer than two days. After the freezes, the temps stayed cool and revived almost everything. My newish ‘Rose Marie’ magnolia took a huge hit – both blossoms and leaves – as did ‘Jane’, but as Michael said, now they can boast of a tough childhood.

Sanguinaria canadensis ‘Multiplex’

One of the most surprising semi-casualties was a Rodgersia podophylla ‘Rotlaub’ I have grown for five years since I brought it back from Dancing Oaks Nursery in Oregon. It has weathered much in the way of crazy springs, flagged a little, but never been hit so hard by a cold snap. As I thought of it as an early emerger, I was gobsmacked that it couldn’t pull itself together for a night. But when I went back to my records, I realized that the warm winter had gently made me think that we were later than we were, and with all the days blending together right now, who the hell knows what day of the week it is, much less where the rodgersia should be.

Still, lesson learned, filed away under ‘fail,’ and thankfully the plant has begun to re-sprout. I understand from a friend in Colorado that this is a normal state of affairs in a region that giveth and taketh away every May, but it’s hard to see such a gorgeous plant on its knees. Again, this is where you cannot beat hard experience – and many years of it.

The Lord giveth….

And the Lord taketh away.

Meanwhile, in more resilient quarters, each spring I come back to epimedium and brunnera as two genera that are woefully underplanted by the general public. It’s not their fault. For whatever reason neither is commonly sold. It probably has much to do with how they present in 6” pots – not as much come hither as a greenhouse begonia. But so much ease, and so much to offer shade gardeners tired of staring at hosta. Unaffected by the freezes, and by most things really Except for Southern blight on the brunnera in the summer months – yep, that scourge is in my soil in places.

A little ‘Jack Frost’ brunnera in the midst of some blushing E. x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’

I share your enjoyment of ostrich ferns and try very hard not overuse them in my quest to conquer Japanese stilt grass. They are overusing themselves I fear. Plant one, you have a hundred; and as you say, late freezes halt them only for seconds. They have already shoved out a robust stand of Arisaema triphyllum and are heading for the A. ringens and A. consanguineum if I don’t pull out the shovel. And move the arisaema. Such beautiful Jurassic monsters.

Do you grow vegetables somewhere on that plot of yours? The asparagus are coming in well this year and the kale is putting a little green in my juice every day.

Wait, that’s every week. I’m forgetting. It’s the wine I drink every day. The wine.

Especially at the moment.

I have put off mentioning COVID-19 and the unbearable state of things until the end of this letter, and quite frankly, I am tempted to sign off and leave it there, the entire business is so upsetting. But in response to your question – should we build gardens for nursing homes and tend gardens for first responders during this pandemic – the answer is of course yes; but then, we should build gardens and help our struggling neighbors where we have the ability at every opportunity.

Though it seems like this will never end, it will. The true question is, will we do these things when it is all over? Will the new Victory Gardeners keep gardening without a pandemic to worry them? Will people still remember to bring a bouquet of tulips to a nurse’s door, or plant up a windowsill garden for an elderly friend when there are stores to be shopped and weekend recreating to be done. Will I?

I hope so. We are not judged so much I think by what we do when the emergency is obvious and push comes to shove, but what we do when the world stops shoving and we can quietly return to familiar routines. Your thoughts are laudable and wonderful however. Do not let my cynicism blight them.

As for your promise of you both joining me in the UK next year on a garden tour, you might want to ask yourself if you are truly safe in a country whose beloved horticultural institutions you’ve publicly disparaged. I’m not saying I would rat out your identity, but then again, I’m not saying I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t let them hurt Michele – she’s one of us.

Make sure Michele brings this picture tucked into her passport. They may require proof.

As for me – do I want an Olympic level smart ass sitting in the back of the [exceptionally comfortable] coach, sipping red wine and throwing out occasional witticisms to the raucous laughter of all present? I sat through that once already remember.

What the hell. But I’m telling you right now, I’ll have the microphone this time and I know how to use it.

My best to you both,

Marianne

P.S. We got a new puppy. An Irish Wolfhound named Nessa. Mungo is currently seeking legal representation.

P.P.S. Love your mossy walks. LOVE them.

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener originally appeared on GardenRant on May 14, 2020.

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turfandlawncare · 4 years ago

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Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener

The latest in the on-going correspondence between Marianne Willburn & Scott Beuerlein.

__________________________________

May 14, 2020

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Dad and I in the garden that fed our family during “the college years” in Iowa.

The only shot I have of Mr. Willson proudly standing in his California foothills garden.

Whew. That’s obviously been building up.

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. Why can’t we have two decades in our twenties? One to try everything and one for keeps. Or is that what our thirties are supposed to be?

But enough of philosophy and supple young joints.

Self-seeded and superb – Brunnera macrophylla

Sanguinaria canadensis ‘Multiplex’

The Lord giveth….

And the Lord taketh away.

A little ‘Jack Frost’ brunnera in the midst of some blushing E. x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’

Do you grow vegetables somewhere on that plot of yours? The asparagus are coming in well this year and the kale is putting a little green in my juice every day.

Wait, that’s every week. I’m forgetting. It’s the wine I drink every day. The wine.

Especially at the moment.

Make sure Michele brings this picture tucked into her passport. They may require proof.

What the hell. But I’m telling you right now, I’ll have the microphone this time and I know how to use it.

My best to you both,

Marianne

P.S. We got a new puppy. An Irish Wolfhound named Nessa. Mungo is currently seeking legal representation.

P.P.S. Love your mossy walks. LOVE them.

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener originally appeared on GardenRant on May 14, 2020.

The post Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener appeared first on GardenRant.

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#GardenRant

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alisonwriter · 5 years ago

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New Hampshire’s White Mountains are criss-crossed by hundreds of scenic hiking trails that offer beautiful vistas. So why did I spend hours one weekend crawling like Spiderman up slopes covered in boulders, mostly looking down at tiny circles of green lichen on their rough granite surfaces?

The list made me do it, I guess. There are only 48 mountains in New Hampshire over 4,000 feet, and many people use the list to summit each in turn. While I’m trying not to “keep score” and rush through the list to bag peaks, my rationale has been that the list offers focus, motivation, and purpose. Maybe I’ll get it done in this lifetime and have something to tell my grandchildren rather than whiling away my precious weekends on lesser summits.

In June I found time to drive to Gorham, New Hampshire and take another crack at one that eluded me in the past: Mount Madison, at 5,367 feet. It had been about 18 months since my daughter Grace and I tried it but were pushed back by a combination of poor weather at the summit and hypothermia. The weekend I was there I had a decent forecast so of course I had to overreach and add Mt. Adams (5700 ft) to the day because why not? I was gonna be sore, why not go all the way??

I knew the Valley Way trail was a moderate hike in the trees, alongside a lovely brook with waterfalls. Just below the AMC’s Madison hut the trail emerges from a forest of stunted evergreens to an even, treeless alpine valley, or col,offering hikers the option to proceed to Adams, to the west, or Madison, to the east.

Our previous attempt to summit was fresh in my mind: Grace and I were well-equipped with hats, gloves, insulating and windproof layers, and snacks, but struggled when we reached the hut that occupies the col. The seasonal “crue” was breaking down the hut and closing it for the season that day, so they’d let the wood stove go cold. Wind from the west was pelting us with tiny bullets of sleet.

Although we were hot from the 2 hour climb up Valley Way, we knew to don more layers at the hut before we exposed ourselves to the wind at the summit but chills overtook us as we rested and changed. The hut crue provided hot water for tea which we hoped would chase the goosebumps away but they only increased. Grace had ample experience working on AMC trail crews and backpacking sections of the AT in the Whites to recognize hypothermia so she advised against taking even the short climb to the Madison summit. Staying in the cold hut was no better than venturing back out into the wind. We snapped a few photos and descended, disappointed but happy with our day out.

In June it would be a different story. I hiked alone, and the weather was significantly better, but there were still concerns: looking northwest, I could see clouds dropping rain on other green peaks, and they were moving toward the Presidentials. The wind was also picking up and expected to reach 70 mph gusts by afternoon.

This time when I approached Madison hut I had a plan to change from shorts to full-length tights, add a windproof layer, and keep going. I’d hit Adams first, because the higher and more difficult summit might be impossible when the winds increased.

There was one more piece of business to attend to at the hut, too. Socks. I’d packed in haste and forgotten my thick hiking socks, even after making a special stop at Mike’s house to find my blister-stopping sock liners. I knew I’d had my hands on hiking socks more than once in the previous two days but haste and distraction combined made me leave them behind. I guessed (correctly) that the hut would have socks for sale and forked over $18 for a pair when I arrived. It was a good investment. I knew I couldn’t gamble on sock liners being my only foot covering or I’d end up making my final descent barefoot and limping.

Leaving the hut I passed picturesque Star Lake and approached Adams via the Star Lake trail, which is less of a trail than a summit approach covered in refrigerator-sized boulders. There was a couple ahead of me and I could hear them chatting. They’d crossed the first section of the boulder field and were obscured in a small section of evergreens, which only served as a temporary break before the trail crossed an even larger boulder field. They were a perfect target that I’d eventually overtake, making me feeling pretty good about my infrequent climbing adventures.

My job on the boulder field was to find trustworthy hand- and foot-holds, allowing me to scramble like Spiderman to the next rock. Every now and then I looked around for some indication of the trail’s direction, whether a painted marker or cairn of rocks. It didn’t seem to matter a lot, but the trail slanted to the south, gradually snaking its way up to the top of Adams, around larger erratics, occasionally revealing a cluster of bright pink mountain flowers.

Once when I was creeping along, feeling pretty good about my progress and personal safety, a woman approached over my left shoulder and quickly passed me on her way up. Our eyes locked for a moment and I said something like, “wow, you’re flying!” while mentally noting that she was my age or older. I don’t remember her response. She had a smaller pack on and was moving at twice my pace. My mind reeled for a while in her wake. I wish I could have interviewed her, to find out how often she climbed, to delve into her fitness regime, to find out her age so, of course, so I could compare myself. It took a while to quell the competitive voices in my head and accept that I was doing fine, pacing myself, and might, some day, be as fit as she was, if I prioritized it and worked at it. Nah, I decided, I’m okay with climbing when I can, but would try a smaller pack load next time and see if that helped.

The wind gusts were building impressively by the time I reached the top of the ridge to the summit of Adams. There were maybe two or three other people there, and none were the woman who passed me. She was probably topping out on Washington by now, I thought. There was a sour-looking Canadian couple mumbling to one another near the marker. I squeezed in and snapped a photo or two, smiling over my accomplishment, while they looked pained and unhappy.

I put the wind at my back and faced northeast, over tiny Madison hut, toward Mount Madison, while I choked down a granola bar for energy. The rain clouds were still sweeping perilously close and the wind was so strong I could barely hold my phone for casual-looking selfies. Soon I was headed down a another boulder slope that was exposed to the wind, moving much more quickly, toward the hut. While I was well grounded by the weight of my pack and boots the wind pushed my torso to-and-fro, making me frequently grab for handholds on the rocks. It was challenging to stay upright.

Instead of using this westerly wind to my advantage when approaching Madison’s summit I made a mistake that has become common for me. I chose a less-traveled and indirect route that was just stupid. The Appalachian Trail leads from the Madison hut directly to the summit of Madison in a steep but not impossible half-mile. For some idiotic reason that challenges Darwin’s theory I took a sidelong approach, skirting Madison’s summit on the north side, then turning south and climbing rocks to hit the peak. It was nothing but a brainless decision and absolutely indicates I’m an injury risk when solo climbing.

Although the roundabout trail was easier for the first, brief 15 minutes, it opened from a short stroll through a meadow to an extensive boulder

field that skirted the north face of Madison. Clearly only an idiot would choose this route if offered the more direct option. I proved that I am that idiot. Rather than turn back and accept the better, more direct climb to the top I stubbornly clung to the boulders, extending my Spiderman-like crawl for another hour or more. While doing so I realized that if I were to get hurt here I’d die within a mile of the busy hut because nobody else would be dumb enough to take this route during this calendar year. So I was cautious, but not cautious enough to turn around and take the more rational AT to the top of Madison. This is the same stupid attitude that kept me married for a decade longer than I should have been, but I obviously haven’t learned a thing in 50-plus years.

My second summit of the day was a happy moment. I crouched in the lee of a big boulder to enjoy it after grabbing a pic of myself at the marker. I think I texted my daughter that I was done climbing and would be headed down soon. Looking south I could see a long trail snaking toward Washington and thought how nice it would be to take that, hopefully a boulder-free route, to bag more peaks some day. It was an irrational thought for someone who still had upwards of 2.5 hours to hike out that day. I exited Madison via the direct AT that took me to the back door of the hut in a brief half hour, kicking myself the whole way for having scrambled unnecessarily over boulders for half the afternoon. Descending into the deep embrace of the trail home was a relief as I no longer had to fear the approach of higher winds and rain showers.

By the time I hit nearly flat ground close to the bottom of Valley Way my hips, knees, and ankles were squeaking in painful protest. The long tendons attaching my quads to my femurs were on fire. I was using hiking poles defensively, to keep myself at just the right angle of declination to keep moving without falling forward onto my face. Mosquitoes swarmed on me if I slowed even a tiny amount, so I plodded relentlessly toward my car, pushing the pain out of my thoughts.

Just before I reached the car on the shoulder of Route 2, I checked my watch: 9 hours, 12 miles. My GPS track showed a bowtie-like route up Valley Way, taking a circular route over Adams, then looping the Madison summit similarly and exiting via Valley Way. When I got to the car I untied my boots and tore off my $18 socks. No blisters! That was great but the pain in my legs would only increase over the next several days.

The other people staying at Rattle River Lodge were not curious about my hike and I didn’t particularly want to chat about it. Twelve miles and two summits were significant to me but most of them were Appalachian Trail through-hikers finishing 1,700-mile treks. One pleasant, older (70 yrs approx) woman hobbled around on a sore knee. I felt badly for her and her husband and daughter, because their hike was ruined by a jammed knee. Then she told me that they were in the last 300 miles of a section hike of the trail .. and that she’d ridden a tandem bike with her husband some 10,000 miles around the perimeter of the country the year before .. while suffering from shingles. I should have offered to wash her feet. My little day hike was big for me but miniscule in the scheme of things.

The blue “bowtie” route is an image from my Gaia GPS (highly recommended!).

Long-awaited summits: Madison & Adams New Hampshire’s White Mountains are criss-crossed by hundreds of scenic hiking trails that offer beautiful vistas. So why did I spend hours one weekend crawling like Spiderman up slopes covered in boulders, mostly looking down at tiny circles of green lichen on their rough granite surfaces?

#GAIAGPS

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