#unusual insects - yup

[ultra-phthalo]

Mimicry

Omg I've came across a uncommon orchid species. I found a place with a bunch of them near by. They take 3 years to root and only bloom once in their lifetimes. And they pollinate using insect mimicry. So there's a part of the plant that looks like an insect. I've already noticed one is starting to die off. So I have to photograph them now! But my phone is at 0% and I'm waiting for it to charge aaa. Will update with a photo soon! [Edit: Posted the images!]

[theunpaidtherapistsclub]

6, 7, and 19 please for the ask game! :)

Ok, I'll have the girls ask. Marianne's a little busy I haven't picked up IkePri in a while, so unfortunately she can't answer.

6. If they were badly injured, and for whatever reason couldn't go to a hospital, who would they go to for help?

Parvana: I'd go to Barbatos. No questions asked Saima: I trust professor Crewel the most. I'd also ask Trey Joanne: I'd ask Violet, Toa, or Knight. (Violet, in the distance: Good answer)

Nasmira: Alpheratz. He's really good at healing magic, and he won't hesitate to make me rest if I need. If not Him, then Spica, or Vega. (Alpheratz: Yup; Spica: Not a bad choice; Vega: Thanks for trusting me) Tasnim: I mean, Mortkranken has Jiro and Yuri, and their advisor Professor Nicolas really comes in clutch, but if I need a small cut tended to, I'd just head to the campus store

7. Do they have any unusual fears?

Parvana: I don't think so? I've been through a lot, so not a lot fazes me anymore, unless they're biting insects Saima: I'd say hornets, but that's not really unusual Joanne: A lot of the wildlife in Saligia. Don't get me wrong, I love animals, but if my online friends from Australia had taught me anything, YOU DO NOT MESS WITH THE WILDLIFE IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY (or in this case, dimension)

19. How easy is it to become their friend?

Parvana: I haven't really thought about it... But if you prove you're worthy of my trust, you can count me as one of your friends. I don't usually make the first move, though, most of the time. Saima: I'm always happy to make new friends, but some people did say I come off a little strong sometimes, so... Yea... Working on that Joanne: Almost all my friends adopted me, basically. I do get a little skeptical sometimes when they do, but if I feel comfortable around them, I'll gladly consider them friends.

Nasmira: Same as Parvana Tasnim: My situation is similar to Saima Nasmira: I can answer on Mari's behalf, since she told me about it, but it is basically the same as Joanne

[ryqoshay]

Cattywampus: Pianissimo

Primary Pairing: ShikiMei Words: 610 Rating: G Time Frame: Sometime during their 1st year of HS Prompt: Pianissimo

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Author's Note: Bonus 4th entry for the 14th

Summary: Shiki is unusually late to the science room

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“Shiki?”

Silence in the science room. Well, save for the soft hum of the lap over the turtle’s terrarium.

Odd, it was rare for Mei to beat her friend to their little haven. Mei shrugged and found a place to sit and wait. To pass the time, she pulled out her phone and started reviewing pictures Natsumi had taken of Liella.

Mei wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed before she heard footsteps approach. However, she still startled a bit as something was set on the counter near her.

“What took you?” Mei asked, perhaps a bit gruffer than she intended.

“I was preparing a home for this little one.” Shiki explained simply.

Mei felt a shiver run up her spine. Little one? Had Shiki acquired another stag beetle or the like? She had done her best to be accommodating of her best friend’s love of beetles and other insects. The butterflies were fine, but even after several years, Mei couldn’t help being a little squeamish when the other creepy crawlies were involved.

Then, a soft, almost imperceivable, chime-like sound came from the container. Mei gave into her curiosity and looked. And immediately regretted it. Yup, that was a cricket. Mei turned back away, trying to keep her reaction in check to avoid either disappointing Shiki or inciting her to tease her.

“Are you going to keep it?” Mei asked.

“Perhaps.” Shiki said. “Once the rain lets up, I will see if he wants to go back outside.”

“I see.”

“Unless you want to take him.”

“Wha?”

“Crickets can make good pets.” Shiki explained.

“How? Don’t they make a ton of noise?”

“Some. But this one is quieter.” Shiki stooped to level her eyes with the small container. “I am uncertain as to why.”

As if in response, the cricket chirped. As before, Mei had to pay attention to hear it and wondered if it could be heard even as far away as across the room.

“I think I shall name him Pianissimo.” Shiki stated after a moment.

The cricket chirped again, this time a decibel or two louder, but still exceptionally quiet compared to what Mei would otherwise expect.

“You’re going to name it after a music term?” Mei couldn’t help asking incredulously.

“Is there a reason I should not?”

“Well, no, I just… uhm… never mind.” Mei wasn’t quite sure why the name bothered her.

Did it really ruin the sanctity of music for an insect to bear a name from it? No… not really. Maybe Mei would feel differently if the cricket had been named after something idol related.

“Eh?” Mei questioned as Shiki stood.

“I have read that crickets like reptile food.” Shiki said as she retrieved the jar of food she gave to her turtle. “Ironic, as many reptiles like eating crickets.” She dropped a couple pellets into the cricket’s container.

“Are you going to feed Pia… your cricket to your turtle?”

Shiki smirked. Of course she would catch that slip. “Do you not wish me to?”

“No, I…” She glared at Shiki, who merely continued to smirk in response. “A-Anyway, what do you want to do this afternoon?”

As Shiki explained her plans to occupy her time until the rain passed and they could head home, Mei couldn’t help sneaking occasional glances over to the cricket.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as creepy as she usually thought. She was fairly certain she didn’t want to bring it home, but each time Pianissimo chirped softly, Mei was further convinced that she would at least be willing to tolerate it being in the club room for the foreseeable future. How long did crickets live, anyway?

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Author's Note Continued: And that makes four entries for this prompt, one for each of my favorite LL pianists. Granted, this one didn't have as much to do about pianos as the last two, but the same could be said about my first entry. The point is that it involved my favorite girl from each of the first four LL generations and used the music term in some way. And more importantly, I had fun.

[dorefasolsido]

10.

***credits to the original creator***

Look out of the nearest window. What do you see? Details, please.

I see the sky and some clouds, a bunch of really tall trees from the nearby park, several apartment buildings on the other side of the park, kids playing on the playground, my building’s parking lot and the neighbours’ cars.

When you think of the word "posh", what springs to mind?

A really fancy British person sitting near a golf course and sipping tea as they laugh in rich. I know posh people aren’t always British, but it can’t be helped.

When you have chocolate, do you eat it room temperature?

Normally yes.

Or are you like me and stick the bar into the fridge first?

Not always, unless the chocolate’s melted already to a degree. Then I have to put it in the fridge for a bit.

What's the most shocking thing that's happened in your part of town?

Well, I don’t know about here, but in my hometown the most shocking thing recently was that a guy shot his ex-wife in the middle of the street at like 9 AM in the morning. That’s super unusual since my hometown is pretty small and uneventful.

Which brand are your headphones/earbuds?

Idk honestly, they’re just some random ones my sister got me.

Do you see planes fly over your house at all?

Oh yeah, I see and hear them a lot.

Are there any constellations you recognize just by looking at them?

My dad showed me a few so I think I would recognize some. That is, if I could see the stars here.

Which room of your house/apartment do you spend the most time in?

The living room.

Which insect do you find the most beautiful?

Butterflies are so pretty.

Did you have crafts/woodwork at school growing up?

Kinda, only we did woodwork only like once or twice, so it wasn’t a class solely dedicated to that.

If so, what was the best assignment you did for it?

I honestly can’t remember what we did, and I’m pretty sure we all made the same generic things.

Do you have a friend who likes to tell you everything?

Yup, a little too much sometimes.

What was the last thing you got very excited about?

Princess Mononoke viewing in an open-air cinema. A friend was supposed to go with me, and I haven’t seen her in a few months so I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, she had to cancel, but I went anyway on my own. It was still pretty cool, but not as cool as it would’ve been if she’d come.

You can go to any city in any country you want. Which city do you go to?

Tokyo. Take me there right away pleaaaase T.T

Do you like gardening? If so, what do you grow?

I don’t, but I have a theory that most people start gardening the moment they turn 50 or so. That happened to my mum and to a bunch of her friends -- they all love gardening and share tips on it all the time. So, maybe my time will come in like 30ish years.

Do you enjoy puzzle games? If so, which one's your favourite?

Yeees, but I like puzzles in video games the most. Especially horror games with puzzles. Because then you’re stressed, but you also gotta think, so it’s exciting.

Is there a substance you avoid at all costs? If so, what is it and why?

I mean, most drugs? Buut one I would 100% stay away from always is heroin. No thanks.

What would you love to live next door to?

A lake, river, or some kind of water. Water just brings me peace.

What gives you nostalgia?

Music, cartoons, and TV shows I used to watch when I was a kid usually. Also, inexplicably, Spring Day by BTS, even though I heard it for the first time last year.

What's the best thing about fall?

The nature is probably at its prettiest in the fall.

What's the worst thing about fall?

Tbh, can’t think of anything in particular. Especially since we barely even have proper fall here anymore and it’s usually still sunny and warm.

Do you get cold easily? Or are you constantly hot?

Neither, actually.

When you think of a classy drink, what comes to mind first?

Some fancy whiskey.

Do you prefer eating out or cooking your own meals?

I don’t cook, so eating out.

Which language do you think is the most complicated to learn?

Okay, so clearly there’s no right answer here, but for me personally, French always seemed impossible to learn. It’s not that the grammar is very difficult or anything, it’s just that they shorten literally everything and it’s quite a task to understand wtf the French are saying. Like the language sounds really pretty, but... yeah, I’ll stick to my harsh German.

Is there a place that you might call your second home?

Sure.

How do you imagine your later life to look like?

Just me travelling around the world, working from various cool places... now that would be the dream.

What is a job you would never in a million years want to do?

Hmmmm, only sex work comes to mind. No hate to those who do, but I’d be waaaaaay out of my comfort zone.

Is there a piece of jewelry that you feel naked without?

My earrings.

Do you ever "go commando"?

Nope.

Do you ever try to make words out of number sequences you see?

Sometimes it happens, but it’s not something I actively try to do.

What's the sweetest thing someone's done for you?

Once when I was visiting my friends and relatives in Germany, one of the friends organized a surprise day of activities for my birthday. Each of them began with a little riddle that was supposed to give me a hint where we were going, and once we made it there, I’d receive a little wish for my birthday. We were unfortunately late for several activities so had to skip them, but nevertheless, it was a super cute thing to do and tbh, I probably don’t deserve that.

Which wild animals are a common sight in your area?

Crows.

What's the weirdest building in your city?

Not sure.

How do you keep in touch with friends usually?

Messaging apps, I meet with some fairly frequently.

Do you get a lot of visitors?

Nah, I live kinda far. Plus, I prefer to meet people in the city, there’s just more to do.

Do you recognize friends'/family's vehicles by sound?

Hmm, I think I can recognize our family car when it drives into the driveway.

Which Disney villain is your favourite?

I think most Disney villains are so cool, but maybe Scar if I had to choose?

On a regular day, what do you usually do at 3 o'clock in the afternoon?

Either work or eat.

What's something new you've just recently learned?

How to cut my bangs so they actually look decent.

Which possession would you not want to inherit from a relative?

Probably a business or something like that. That would just put pressure on me.

What is something you would never dare to do in public? 

Oh, lots of things. I don’t particularly like when people look at me (hello, social anxiety)

Would you/ did you have a hen night/bachelorette party?

I don’t plan on ever getting married, but if I did, maybe something small with close friends.

Has anyone taken you on holiday somewhere? If so, where?

Sure, my mum and dad have. We went to Greece, Turkey and several other countries with seasides.

Have you taken somebody on holiday? If so, where did you taken them?

If taking includes paying for their tickets and all, no.

Who do you see as an iconic star?

Maybe someone like Lady Gaga or so.

Have you ever been to a vineyard?

Yup.

Are there any swans near the area you live in?

Not very close, but yes.

Does anyone in your inner circle struggle with addiction? 

Does nicotine addiction count? If so, loads of people.

Has anyone told you lately that you have a nice smile?

I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that ;-;

How did you spend your last birthday?

First I went shopping for purple dye with mum and then got my hair dyed for the first time. It didn’t really show much on my very dark hair, but I was just happy and excited that I did it. Then in the evening, my parents and uncle and aunt went to a restaurant. It wasn’t really a big birthday, but I usually don’t do much or only celebrate with friends a few days/weeks later.

[thefallendivine]

Everly: Lost and Found

As I have already written the scenes where the MC and the Guardian companion met, I saw it fit to finally post the introductory shorts for the Guardians. This is for the first one.

WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead. If you want to keep your surprise about the Guardians for when the game releases in the distant future, then scroll past this post. 

--

Rain and an abandoned road: a depressing combination for a teamster.  Made worse by the slow pace of the pair of arcane oxen that pulls on the train of carts— ychen bannog, the Giants call them. They are a large, hairy, and long-horned bovine with a boulder-like hump between its shoulders that is magically bred to be a food source for the Giantkind of Rhal Vahald. As their meat is too tough for the tastes of other races, they instead use the ychen bannog as draft animals for their formidable strength and ability to traverse both dry and wet terrain.

Hitting bumps along the trail that cuts through a field of reed, the chains that secure the interlinked carts rattle as the cages teeter on top of the wheeled wood rafts. Along with the downpour and the occasional whimpers from the children gagged and hog-tied inside the canvased cages, they are the only tether the carter, Riegel, has to reality. Driving through the Secret Road is otherwise monotonous when the visibility is too poor that it truly shrouds its “secrets”.

People who use the road and the vast field embraced by its rain and mist know to look but never to tell, as legends proven true in the past hold a tight grip in the minds of those who hear them. Clandestine dealings, forbidden meetings, escapees in hiding, disposal of high profile bodies or unwanted children, all of these are common in the Secret Road. For slave traders, it is the perfect road to move their goods; it keeps their business afloat and away from attention during transport. It is a blessing. And it is a gold mine.

And today, Riegel has struck a vein.

From his elevated seat, Riegel can see a child in a black and white dress walking ahead, going in the same direction as his wagon train. He perks up, surprised at the quality of the girl’s attire. Whether lost or abandoned, there is no reason not to add such a find in the pile.

Tugging at the reins, Riegel halts the huge beasts of burden ways away from the child. A couple of snorts and a few clip-clops of hooves later, he is signaling to his co-workers in the carts to keep the children quiet before proceeding to approach the little girl, who has now turned around in apparent notice of the conspicuous large beasts, sleepy brown eyes watching as Riegel plants a practiced smile on his lips. Supplying a smooth wave of the hand, he calls out loudly to be heard in the rain yet friendly to match the expression he adopted.

“Hey, little girl, where did you come from?” Riegel proceeds to look around, a show of confusion despite having none. “What are you doing in the middle of the road? In the rain?”

The girl does not reply.

Riegel takes of his cloak before squatting down, encircling his arms to put the damp fabric around the girl. “Here,” he says, pulling the hood over her light blonde head. “I can take you home if you want.”

Still no reply.

Such a thing is not unusual when it comes to children who have been thrust into such misfortune. Uncontrollable sobs and fear usually keep them from even uttering something remotely discernible. The girl is overcome by neither, yet she does not speak.

Stranger still for Riegel is that the girl has not a trace of any kind of reaction on her face. Much like a doll, both physically and emotionally.

All alone up until now, in the dark, in the cold, and the young child is unafraid. Faced with a stranger brought by large beasts and she does not even bat an eye.

A sudden shudder creeps up his back but Riegel brushes it off as nothing more than a bodily reaction to exposure.

“Do you see my wagons?” Riegel asks, jerking his head back, at which the girl’s eyes finally moves to look. “It’s much warmer over there. Come on.”

His hand presented in invitation, Riegel gives the girl the chance to come amicably. For any bruise on such a fair skin will diminish the value that Riegel sees in her.

After what feels like a long wait under the heavy rain, the girl’s gaze trains back on Riegel’s. Her hand lifts slowly, the man's smile growing wider as it inches closer to his.

But her small hand moves higher, past Riegel’s laid out hand and stopping right in front of his face. The last thing he sees is the two overlapping squares on her palm before the scenery before him changes.

Riegel sees a house on a backdrop of a sweeping pasture. He stares up at the windmill that stands tall beside the Pasturian-style cabin. The door opens, and out comes a girl of eight twin moons.

It’s her birthday today.

There is an excited smile that lights up her face as she runs up to Riegel and screams out, “Dad!”

Stooping down, Riegel catches the child and spins her around as he does, legs swinging in the air as her giggles warms his chest. Riegel ends his welcome with an embrace, clutching the girl close to him. “Wow! I was gone for a day and you’ve grown this much? My little girl’s not so little anymore.”

Stretching her arms up, she replies proudly, “Yup! I’m a grown up!”

Riegel laughs, eyes shifting ahead to his approaching wife. A serious look on her face as she looks past him; to someone behind him.

Riegel turns to find three men, familiar ones. People he has worked with in the past.

“It’s time, Riegel,” the one ahead of the trio says. “Hand the girl over.”

“What?” Riegel asks, searching the faces in front of him. “What do you mean hand her over?”

The men do not reply, but their expressions tell everything Riegel needs to know about their intentions. He looks to his wife. “Take her inside,” he tells her as he hands over his daughter.

However, instead of doing what he asked her to, Riegel’s wife walks towards the men and gives their daughter willingly.

“What are you doing?!” Riegel lunges forward, but the other two men grab hold of his arms before pinning him to the ground. “Let me— Get your filthy hands off her! Give her back!”

Riegel’s frantic sputtering is matched by his daughter’s crying, confused and afraid of what is happening. The man who holds her looks down on Riegel with pity. “She doesn’t belong to you, Riegel.”

“She’s my daughter! She—“

Riegel freezes.

She’s my daughter. But… what’s her name?

Riegel’s eyes turn manic, disgusted at himself for forgetting his daughter’s name. He forces himself to remember, the times he calls to her to do some light chores, when he first started teaching her how to say her name, or the day she was born. But there is nothing there.

Riegel looks up, only to find the people who surrounded him to be all faceless. The men, his wife, and even his daughter.

But before Riegel can question what he is seeing, the gaps in his memory start to rebuild themselves, like pieces affixing into a broken puzzle to create a big picture, one that depicts his entire life.

From his time as a boy, when he met his wife, and when they had their daughter.

Just then, Riegel finally remembers her name.

He speaks it hurriedly.

It is certain that Riegel said the name.

However, Everly does not linger long to find out what the imaginary mortal girl is called. Despite her life of eternity, she does not have the time to waste on falsities. Even if in the fantasies she crafted, the karmic punishment of the trapped individual's hallucinatory future is quite satisfying to watch.

Everly looks back at Riegel, the slaver’s head is enclosed in her cube of illusions, one that contains a whole world and a whole life she concocted for him. There were a few complications, but in the end, Everly managed to use her Rune well.

She looks up ahead, to the other insects who feed on blooming flowers. It does not hurt to get a few practices in, the road will keep her secret. After all, Everly has a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, plenty of lost time to make up for, as the Goddess of Vision and Creation.

[theshatteredrose]

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 34) - Original Fiction

AN: Yup, still working on this. There should be about 47 chapters to this story, so got a few more chapters to go. Enjoy reading~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

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Chapter 34:

Eishirou found himself listening closely to the forest noises around them as he kept a close eye on his tablet. He could hear the sounds of frogs croaking and the buzzing of insects. He wondered briefly if there had been such noises during the time that ShadowDweller had been stalking them. In hindsight, he wished he had paid more attention.

Yet, he reasoned with himself that the usual sounds must have been present as no one other than Zayne had realised that they had been followed. And Zayne only really caught on because of what Eishirou had seen on his map.

Zayne’s own father, a veteran Elite, hadn’t noticed.

The ShadowDwellers within these mangrove trees were quite…unusual was probably the right word.

The creature Team 3 faced off against was a large lizard in appearance, and was most definitely an ambush predator. It didn’t get destructive or violent until after Zayne exposed its presence.

Before then, it had moved silently. Not a rustle of a leaf. Not a snapping of a twig.

Nothing.

There was just so much they didn’t know about ShadowDwellers. They were as individual and unique as any species of animals.

Eishirou paused in his making of notes to glance at his surroundings. The foliage of the environment hadn’t changed; mangrove trees intersected with tall swamp reeds and light brown mangrove roots spiralling into pools of algae covered waters.

The temperature had warmed significantly, despite the shading of the thick canopy above. It was well after midday now, yet the dull light had stayed the same. And Eishirou assumed that the night of these woods fell sooner than they were used to.

Night-time beneath the canopy and lush vegetation were sure to be dark and unnerving.

A sudden and sharp pain from his shoulder promptly reminded Eishirou of his injury and he gritted his teeth to prevent a pained-filled murmur.

He mustn’t have fully succeeded as Zayne placed a hand on his back to get his attention. “How’s your shoulder?”

Eishirou gave a cautious shrug of his shoulder but promptly stopped when he was greeted with more pain. “Ah, it’s aching a little, to be honest.”

Zayne frowned in concern. “Do you have your painkillers?”

“I’ll take them when we return to camp,” Eishirou insisted. “They make me a little sleepy.”

Zayne’s frown deepened for a moment before he nodded his head. “Hm.”

Eishirou could only assume that Zayne’s frown was due to the fact that he wasn’t all that happy to know that he was in pain. And that he had a way to ease said pain, but due to certain side effects, wouldn’t take it.

And he was likely still annoyed about how he received such an injury in the first place.

A loud, sharp crack suddenly resonated. A low rumbling soon followed, along with the distinct sound of trees shaking. And breaking.

“Watch out!”

Zayne reacted immediately. He simultaneously wrapped his arms around Eishirou and manifested his wings. Eishirou found himself reacting just as quickly; he clutched his tablet against his chest with one arm as the other moved instinctively to loop around Zayne’s neck. He then crouched down for a moment, slipped an arm under Eishirou’s legs and scooped him up before he launched them both into the air.

And not a moment later, rocks and boulders barrelled through the tree line, careening destructively as they destroyed everything in its path. The way those large boulders and rocks moved looked so surreal. Boulders, four-foot wide bounced and rolled like they were made from cardboard.

The noise, however, was testament to how heavy, and how brutal, those tumbling stones were.

A rockslide. Not only were the ShadowDwellers dangerous, so was the environment.

With one arm around Eishirou’s back and the other under his knees, Zayne pulled back as his teammates, all with their own wings manifested, created a protective semi-circle in front of them. Their weapons were drawn, ready to deflect any stone or boulder that could potentially jostle in their direction.

A few of the small, somewhat ‘lighter’ stones were ejected from the slide in their direction, but Leon and Rinka were quick to deflect them away.

Eishirou subconsciously tightened his arm around Zayne’s neck and pressed himself closer to him. Had he been alone when that landslide occurred, it definitely would have killed him!

There was no way he could outrun something like that!

As quickly as the rockfall had begun, the tumbling stones came to a stop at their new resting places. The smell of toiled soil and freshly cut wood permeated the air. Along with an uneasy silence.

“You all right?” Zayne asked.

Eishirou nodded his head. “Yeah. Only thanks to your quick reflexes. That was a little close.”

A crease appeared in Zayne’s brow as he, too, nodded his head. “Yeah. What started that, I wonder.”

Eishirou turned to look at the now exposed hillside. The foliage had been so thick that he hadn’t realised that just a few feet away the terrain ascended steeply. The damage trail appeared narrow, gouging a potential new path. Though, he was reluctant to inspect it so soon after a rockfall.

“Something clearly dislodged these stones,” Ernesta mused as she lowered her mana-lance to her side. “Perhaps a ShadowDweller?”

“Perhaps,” Cadmus responded as his gaze remained firm on the debris path.

He didn’t sound fully convince. And, honestly, Eishirou wasn’t exactly sold on the idea that a ShadowDweller was responsible either. Perhaps he was just jumpy or paranoid after all the troubling events that had occurred recently.

“Let’s keep moving,” Cadmus ordered before he turned sharply in Zayne’s direction and raised an eyebrow. “You can put him down now, Zayne.”

Eishirou felt his cheeks abruptly heat up when he realises that Zayne was holding him, carrying him in what others may call “bridal or princess style”. Easily and casually at that.

“Walking is taking too long,” Zayne returned coolly, making no attempt to lower himself to the ground to allow him to safely loosen his hold on Eishirou. “It’ll be easier this way.”

He had a point…

A point that Cadmus couldn’t exactly refute.

“You can hardly fight like that,” Tatsu was the one to point out, rather scathingly at that.

Zayne turned his head sharply in his direction. However, he directed his words toward Eishirou.

“Hold onto my neck.”

Wordlessly, Eishirou did as he was told and tightened his arm around Zayne’s neck. Zayne then unwound his arm from around his shoulders, deftly snatched up his holster, and presented it toward Tatsu. Showing him that he was capable of drawing his weapon if the need called for it.

“See? I can fight just fine,” he retorted. “We’re wasting daylight; let’s move.”

Ernesta made a sound that was similar to a cough, and yet it was a forced cough. Like the one would make to cover up a laugh. Or something.

“I agree,” Ernesta stated. “Flying at low altitude would indeed move things along. And we’ve suffered enough distractions. We need to continue.”

Her tone of voice left little room for debate.

Though, Cadmus did give the impression that he had wanted to say something else. But decided against it. He did give Zayne a peculiar look before he turned, still mid-air, and took the lead once more.

Zayne and others soon followed.

That look was…parental, in a way. Exasperatedly parental. Probably inwardly lamenting how much of a rebel his own son had become.

Was Zayne being rebellious? Eishirou didn’t think so. He hadn’t done anything he hadn’t done before. He may be more vocal about it, but only because other people kept questioning him.

So…maybe the way he was acting wasn’t how Elite normally would or should act?

How ever an Elite was supposed to act, Eishirou was grateful for Zayne. For his determination and dedication toward him. He saved him and protected him more times than he could count.

He…didn’t know what he would have done without him.

Eishirou must have unconsciously shifted closer to Zayne as the other tightened his arms reassuringly around him. “I won’t drop you,” he said.

“I know,” Eishirou returned immediately. “I was just thinking of something else.”

Zayne gave him a quick smile before he returned his attention to the space in front of them. And Eishirou turned his attention to his tablet. Or more specifically, the map. He made the mental note to mark the rockfall when he was able to use his other hand.

Until then, he’d keep an eye out for any unusual blips.

They were making good pace and approaching the next point of interest quickly. A few minutes later they moved from the narrow, natural tunnel created of mangrove trees, and into an open clearing where they could see the blue sky above from an opening within the canopy.

“This is the second site,” Cadmus stated as he dropped to the forest floor, his red mana wings still activated.

As Zayne’s teammates followed the veteran Elite’s example, Zayne himself chose to stay in the air a moment longer. To cast a cautious glance at their new surroundings. Only when he was satisfied, did he finally land. And place Eishirou back onto his feet, too.

Eishirou thanked him quietly before he also inspecting the clearing. His gaze soon landed on an object found north in the clearing. A tall stone covered in moss and vines, of which had only been recently brushed aside.

It was the mural that had caught his attention back at the museum.

Zayne also noticed it and was close behind him as they walked toward the runestone. “Is this what that sentinel being Professor Jairus mentioned looks like?”

Eishirou nodded as he stood before the mural. More of a portrait. Someone that those who had painted such a thing held in high regard. “That’s right. He looked similar to this. Distinct long white hair with beads and feathers and dark brown skin.”

“Is this painting as old as the Red Lily?” Rinka was the one to ask as she, too, looked at the painting in interest.

“Yeah. Amazing, right?” Eishirou replied. “Possibly ten-thousand years old. Survived the bombardment.” He trailed his fingertips over the rough stone cautiously. “And it still has mana.”

Hmm. It appeared to be in good shape. He didn’t need to restore this one.

All he needed to do was prepare himself to receive a recording.

He stepped back momentarily and slipped his tablet into his bag. He then lifted it up over his head and dropped it carefully to the grass by his feet.

With that done, and with the knowledge that Zayne was sure to protect him from anything and everything, he raised his hands and placed them flat against the stone. He lowered his head. And with his mana, reached out to the memories stored within the stone.

They rushed forth without hesitation.

An underground temple. A sacred fire burning before a tall runestone. The sound of humming, wordlessly singing of a song of revere. Rapid drumming, wooden musical instruments.

A figure dressed in white with feathers and twine in white hair. The sentinel being Eishirou had seen so many times before. He stood before the fire. He looked youthful, though his soul was ancient.

He raised his hand to his side to reveal a golden wristlet. Upon it, the Red Lily.

Dawn of a Crimson Gold,

Celebrations of the Sacred Earth.

A gentle voice resounded as the drumming increased.

Shadowy beings, no form nor structure, edged in from all sides. Toward the sentinel being and the relic he wielded on his wrist.

The figure in white, completely unafraid, raised his hand toward the shadowy entities. The Red Lily shone with a bright light. Yet, the radiant light seemed to create a sphere around the being. Encasing him, protecting him.

Elements of a Fated Connection,

Reveals the Strength of the Mirrored Souls.

Someone else suddenly appeared before the sentinel being. Crouched into a battle stance that was somehow familiar. Though, they, too, were hidden in shadows.

Bright blue eyes suddenly looked at him. Directly at Eishirou himself.

Everything came to an abrupt end and Eishirou reeled his head back from the sheer force and power of the recording had shown to him. He clutched at his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt an arm encircle his shoulders.

Eishirou rubbed his temples with his fingertips as he attempted to wade through the lingering images of the recording playing through his head.

A golden wristlet. With the Red Lily as the centrepiece. It also appeared that the figure in white was…using it in battle? It wasn’t used offensively, though. Not fully. He was…using it defensively, and yet it felt as though he was also using it to enhance or support…someone else?

That second figure…he couldn’t see anything from them. But…they were of a masculine energy.

That was honestly the downside to reviewing recordings – he didn’t have enough time to inspect and intersect the images. He had to go on memories after the recordings were done. And he could only view the recordings once. Only after the object he pulled the recording from restored its mana supply could he possibly see it again. But there was a high possibly that it would not be the same recording.

It was all rather complicated.

The wristlet was new, though. Previous recordings had the red jewel nestled within a crown. The Red Lily back at the academy, however, was alone. So, it may be possible that the relic could be interchanged with other relics?

And the environment those images took place. It looked like a temple of sorts. An ancient sacred place. Carved stones, man-made altars and totems. And a tall runestone with ancient etchings.

Somewhere important.

Somewhere that still existed?

“Eishirou?”

Zayne’s voice holding a subtle sense of concern pulled Eishirou from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and immediately glanced over to his left. Where Zayne stood. His arm across his back in a comforting and supportive touch.

“You all right?” he asked.

Eishirou nodded and dropped his arms to his sides. “Y-yeah, sorry. It wasn’t holding back with the energy.”

“What did this one reveal?”

It honestly took Eishirou a moment or two to gather enough coherent thoughts to answer. “A…an ancient ritual of sorts. Another relic, I think. There’s…a stone temple. Underground. I think it still exists. Somewhere on this island. That relic…might be able to help me to understand the Red Lily further.”

Of course, he had no solid facts on any of that. But he felt it to be true.

“And no idea where this other…temple is found?” Cadmus asked, poorly hiding his scepticism.

“No,” Eishirou admitted. “But I’ll know when I see it.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring. And Cadmus’s expression stated as much.

“Your injured shoulder might be interfering with your ability to view recordings,” Zayne suddenly suggested.

A sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, seeming in response to that observation. “Ah,” Eishirou winced. “You’re probably right.”

His shoulder wasn’t the only thing aching. His head was starting to set into a low throbbing. Something that happened when he used a bit too much of his own energy. The pain of his shoulder surely wasn’t helping.

A sudden, piercing buzzing from his tablet caused Eishirou to turn his attention down to his bag. He stepped away from Zayne and knelt onto the grass to pull out his tablet. As he flicked it on, he was greeted with the sight of the map.

And a strange dot close to the area where they had encountered the rockfall.

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” Zayne immediately asked as he crouched down next to him, his gaze on the map, too. “Another strange blip?”

Eishirou nodded his head. The marking wasn’t like the red symbol he had seen before. The one that indicated the ShadowDweller. The new blip…blips (there were three now), were light green in nature. Similar to the indicator of the tablet’s location on the map.

That…

“Is there anyone else on the island with us?” Eishirou asked suddenly, his attention toward Cadmus.

Cadmus seemed surprised by the question before his brow quickly furrowed and his expression turned stoic. “There shouldn’t be. Why?”

“It’s just…the map indicated to another possible party. Close by,” Eishirou explained as he glanced down at the map. However, as he looked down again, the dots had moved on. Off the path. “But…it’s gone now. Maybe they’re out of range?”

Had the academy sent another team to help in the research? But that didn’t seem plausible. Jacob would have definitely told him if he even entertained the idea so not to alarm him.

Something didn’t feel right. He would contact Misaki later and ask him.

“Let’s return to camp,” Cadmus suddenly commanded. “And stay together.”

Something didn’t feel right with him either, it seemed.

[thomothysdoodles]

4, 10, 11, 4, 15, 18, 25, 26, 31, 32, 33, 35, 37, 38, 42, 44, 45, 49, 50

4. what is your smallest/pettiest fear?

Walking on storm drains lol I refuse to step on them and my friends often make fun of me

10. what is the most significant event in your life so far?

I dunno :/ maybe that I graduated high school? That’s kinda lame tho. I think it’ll be extremely important for me to move out my parents house

11. what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

I'm really into Sherlock Holmes and his books and movies got me to think that details are really important

15. are there any names that you dislike so much that you would dislike the person with the name? what are those names?

I don’t think so! I’m bad at holding grudges, and I think everybody’s name fits perfectly, whether it’s given to them or chosen later in life

18. list your best friends.

Well we got C, who puts up with me since our first high school year. Then there’s A, who came a year later, we fought fiercely a couple of times, but without them I’d be a totally different person. Latest additions are L, who’s both like a younger AND older brother for me, and C, who hugged me last night for five minutes straight for no reason and I almost teared up T-T

25. do animals tend to like you?

I think so? The most important thing tho is: do I like them back??? I have no interest in being liked by insects. Or horses lol

26. what is the worst book you’ve ever read?

Mmmh if I don’t like it I simply stop reading it. There is Roald Dahl’s “witches” I read when I was in middle school, and it deeply worried me. Then this year came out the movie and it just creeps me out

31. what age did you stop keeping stuffed animals on your bed?

Bold of you I don’t sleep with my stuffed tiger right by my head each and every night.

32. what is your favorite candy?

Strawberry lollipops or anything with chocolate

33. what is your favorite baked good?

Cookies 🍪

35. do you wear jewelry?

Yup! I’ve got four necklaces, two rings, four earrings and ten bracelets I never take off

37. do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?

With headphones if I gotta do stuff that would muffle the music, otherwise I like to have it blasting so I can sing with it

38. what was your favourite show as a child?

I loved, and still do, watching the Simpson

42. whats the weirdest thing that you’ve seen happen in a public place?

Less weird and more unusual and endearing, once there was this piano player in the streets playing a slow song. At some point, a toddler waddled towards him with a coin, tugged at the pianist’s jacket and offered him the coin. The pianist smiled, accepted the coin and asked if the little boy had any requests. The boy asked for a song from a cartoon I think, and the pianist obliged smiling 🥺

44. who do you miss right now?

I wish I could spend more time with my best friend because I’m gonna leave for the summer and I’m afraid he’s either gonna feel lonely or make new friends while I’m away.

45. if you could combine two places in the world, which two places would you choose?

I honestly have no idea xD

49. describe your pets.

I’ve got a jack russel named Mia and an European cat named Menny.

Mia barks at anything and everyone coming near our home door, and goes crazy when she hears fireworks. She’s afraid of the hair drier and vacuum cleaner. She’s fit, white and with a couple of light brown spots. One of her spot on her side looks like a heart if looked by the right angle. She’s not very friendly with other dogs, and pulls a lot when we go out with her. Since we got wood floorings, her nails tap tap tap at each and every step she makes. She’s not allowed on our beds because she looses lots of fur, but that doesn’t stop her from trying and sleeping on them whenever we’re distracted enough to leave the door open :/

Menny is cuddly and very quiet, meows very rarely and only to let me know he reeeally wants to go in my room. He’s somehow figured out how to open doors and sometimes we’ll be looking for him and find him sleeping on one of our beds. He’s the spoiled baby of the family, and loves to ride on my shoulders. My mom thought he was special because he’s got what looks like the letter M on his forehead, so she went ‘we gotta give him a name starting with M!!!’ But that’s actually a characteristic of his breed. I call him Zuzu and Bubu and anything other than Menny, and when my mom finds him sleeping on my bed or kneading my stomach she calls him Traitor.

50. are you good at getting over mistakes?

Not really. I mull over lots of mistakes I did in the past, and notice when I’m doing it again, but I’m kind of inveterate on certain topics :(

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

Everybody Talks (But Especially The Plants) - FjorClay Week Day 5: Dreams/Day 7: Nature

Fjord didn’t know where he was.

He had just finished his turn at driving the wagon, having been replaced by Caduceus. He decided to rest his eyes for a bit knowing that his friends were with him ready to wake him up at the first sign of danger.

He reopened his eyes to discover he was alone and the world out of sorts. Everything was much larger than it should be. Bushes were the size of town buildings, trees were larger than the tallest of giants, and the insects were monstrous.

It was one such mammoth bee that startled him. He attempted to summon his sword but found himself unable to move. He finally looked down at his body to see a long green stem sprout from his head and leaves for arms.

He screamed! Or rather attempted to scream, he didn’t have a literal mouth, so he just shook there in horror.

“Shhhh...it’s okay.” A deep timbre soothed him into a tranquil state. A colossal hand caressed his head gently. “You’re absolutely beautiful...What’s got you so worked up?”

The owner of the hand was quite blurry. But he felt like he knew who the being was regardless. Fjord felt safe in their hand, knowing they had saved him in the past and will continue to do so in the future.

“I’ve got you now.” The being blurred even more and a white light pierced through Fjord’s eyes.

Fjord woke up.

“Wakey, wakey, Fjord!” Jester sang and poked the half-orc hard in the face.

“Ugh! Jester! You almost poked my eye out!” Fjord rubbed at his assaulted eye, now noticing that the wagon had stopped and many of the others had already started setting up camp.

“No I didn’t!” The tiefling stuck her tongue out and leaped off the wagon with a flourish. “You must have been very tired. You were knocked out the entire rest of the way.” She went ahead to help Yasha and Caduceus get dinner ready.

After making sure he still had proper vision, he followed Beau to get some wood for the campfire. She preferred to cut the logs herself and let whoever carry what she couldn’t hold, so Fjord had some time to look at the scenery.

He noticed a patch of colorful flowers that looked out of place among all of the green. It reminded him of his dream. He walked up to the flowers and crouched down to get a closer look at its petals. Maybe Caduceus would like them.

“Do you see that guy? He looks like an asshole.”

“Nah...probably just misunderstood.”

Fjord almost fell back, startled at the voices that came from the blossoms. However, still tired from the long travel and unsettled by the unusual dream (and he’s had a lot), he glared at the flowers that were talking about him as if it was perfectly normal that flora were talking at all. These particular flowers though elegant in appearance, were unafraid of loudly voicing their rude opinions about the half-orc.

“See! Look at his face!” The taller of the two flowers seemed to be subtly wiggling its leaf towards Fjord’s unamused expression. “We’re just minding our business, doing what we do, and he’s giving us the stink-eye. Total asshole.”

Offended, the half-orc frowned even further and pointed at the plant keen on insulting him, “Hey! Now listen here. I—”

“Fjord...what the hell are you doing?” Beau paused in the middle of swinging her axe. “You’re acting like Caduceus. Except much less nicer.”

Fjord glanced back at the plants who apparently returned to being still and quiet. They remained still and quiet, and Beau was starting to look at him as if he was crazy. The half-orc shook his head, he must have been really drained out. He cleared his throat and continued picking up the logs that Beau split. “Erm. Nothing. Nevermind. Just thought I heard something.”

The monk gave him one last dubious glance before they finished the final batch of wood and headed back to the campsite.

Fjord dropped the wood in the pile next to the bonfire and dusted off his hands. He looked around the area, his eyes sweeping over his friends until he found Caduceus. The firbolg was nearby a cliff wall that made up the side of the campsite adding extra protection and cover. Fjord straightened out his clothing and walked over, eager to spend more time with the cleric especially during the small amount of downtime they had.

Caduceus had his fingers in the patch of moss that grew alongside the stone. He was murmuring as he stroked the moss’s threads. “Hello there, friend. I’ve never seen your kind before. You’re absolutely beautiful.” The firbolg’s long fingers twisted and twirled through the greenery.

Fjord admired the pink-haired firbolg completely in his habitat, surrounded by the trees and all kinds of flora, appreciating the fruits of their goddess’s blessings.

“Oh, yes! Right there...”

Fjord’s eyes sharpened at the voice that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He readied his hand to summon his sword and surveyed the area for anything dangerous.

“That feels amazing.” The voice moaned and the half-orc whirled his head back to the patch of moss Caduceus was still innocently talking to. It continued, “Harder, please…”

Fjord’s jaw dropped and a flush began to spread from his cheeks throughout his whole body. The crass plant got worse.

“If I could, I would cover your entire body, firbolg. Every inch of your long body will be engulfed. I’d be careful at first, gentle. I’ll take my time. Make you beg for me as I slither inside and out. I’ll—”

A loud slap cracked through the evening as Fjord smacked Caduceus’s hand from the perverted moss.

Everybody turned towards the pair in shock. Fjord never did anything even close to rude to Caduceus. The firbolg cradled his poor hand, ears drooping, and eyes wide at the half-orc. Fjord was heaving, blush still very visible.

“Uh. No. I. Your hand!” Fjord gestured wildly at the firbolg’s hand and at the air conveying absolutely nothing. “Poison! I—I thought the moss. Was poisonous. So I...saved you?” The half-orc winced at his crappy excuse. Not like he could tell Caduceus the moss wanted to have sex with the firbolg...Could he?

The cleric remained quiet. Fjord shut up and went to gawk at a quite interesting piece of rock that was on the ground. Fjord could feel Caduceus peering over him critically. However, instead of voicing his concerns, the firbolg thanked him.

“Thank you for your concern, Fjord. But although I’m not familiar with this type of moss, I know it’s not harmful to me or others.” Caduceus smiled at him serenely, his ears perking up again.

“R-right. You’re welcome. S-sorry for hurting you.” Fjord relaxed a fraction, but not wanting to push his luck, immediately went for the first watch. He needed to freak out far, far away from his prying friends.

Unfortunately, away from prying friends didn’t mean away from prying literally everything else.

Fjord was able to experience a moment of silence, focused on his surroundings for any intruders. After a quick first glance that yielded nothing, the half-orc fully relaxed against the wide trunk of the tree behind him, appreciating the refreshing breeze that passed every so often.

The peace did not last for long.

“Hello!”

Dammit.

Fjord wrinkled his forehead and sighed. The greeting belonged to a young bud sprouting on the vine hanging next to his head.

“Hi! I’ve never seen someone like you before. Are you also a plant? You’re green like me!” The yellow and green bud wiggled back and forth as it spoke.

The half-orc rolled his eyes and kept stoic perfectly willing to ignore the plant for the rest of the night but the trunk he was leaning on rumbled. He yelped and jumped from his seat.

“Now, child. Leave the young man to his job.” The leaves of the tree rustled and the wood groaned low and deep. The bud whined, chagrined. The ancient tree then aimed its attention at Fjord. “Please excuse the young’un. It’s been a long while since we’ve had visitors in this area that are able to talk to us.”

Extremely hesitant, but not wanting to appear disrespectful to the probably nice elder tree, Fjord said “It’s fine. It’s just...I’ve never been able to talk to plants before.”

“Oh really?” The tree’s leaves seemed to bunch up in surprise. “I thought speaking to us is a common trait in your party. The firbolg, in particular, has been quite friendly. I have heard from many of the birds that traveled in the past how polite and helpful he is. He’s quite a celebrity amongst the forest dwellers.”

Fjord couldn’t help but laugh goodnaturedly. “Of course, that’s Caduceus. He cares a lot about helping others, especially those who can’t ask for it.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Fjord.” Speak and he shall appear.

Caduceus pushed away the vines and branches in front of him as he came closer. The light of the moon revealed his arrival and reflected against the firbolg’s hair, turning the bright pink strands into a soft lilac. “Please excuse me for eavesdropping, but I'm here to relieve you of the first watch and was wondering who you were talking to.”

The half-orc took a while to respond as he gaped at the firbolg’s beautiful figure. “Oh! Um.” He peeked at the elder tree in panic before giving up. Caduceus would help him with whatever predicament he got into now. “The tree. I was talking to the tree.”

“You were?” The firbolg’s smile grew even wider. He took a moment to say hello to the tree himself, and even pet the young bud delicately. “I’m glad you’re getting more comfortable with communicating to the Wildmother and her children.”

Fjord sighed. “Well...Duceus. This time, they’re responding to me. With actual words!”

The bud on the vine wiggled again, “Yup! Yup! Hi!”

The cleric must have felt the energy pulsing from the young flower in confirmation as the firbolg’s pink eyebrows lifted in surprise. Caduceus glided up to the half-orc excitedly. “Oh! That’s wonderful, Fjord!”

“Really?” Fjord took a small step back to look at the other in disbelief. “I don’t know why it’s happening at all.”

Caduceus hummed and grabbed Fjord’s arm leading him back to the tree. They both sat down. “Was there anything new that happened in particular? Anything special or strange?”

It was then that Fjord remembered his short dream from last night. He relayed it to the cleric hoping for any answers.

“That must have been a message from the Wildmother.” The firbolg’s face brightened in awe. “She wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Have you understand what it’s like to be even the smallest of her children, to be hers.”

Fjord grinned sheepishly, “Of course it was. I’ve just gotten used to her speaking directly to me in my dreams.” He was still confused about one thing though. “But why let me be able to speak to plants and have them respond back? Why did she not do the same for you? You could help so much more if you could directly comprehend them.” Fjord looked at the greenery encompassing them as if Melora would appear to meet them. He wanted to plead with her to give Caduceus the gift the goddess gave Fjord instead.

Caduceus held Fjord’s wrist with one hand and placed his other hand against his own heart. “Oh, Fjord. I’m grateful for the gifts I have already. I hear her everywhere we go. She aids my journey through the guidance of her creations. Without them, I would never have met you all. Please don’t worry for me.”

Fjord gazed down at Caduceus’s hand around his wrist and shifted to hold the firbolg’s hand with both of his hands. The contrasting color and size overwhelmed the half-orc. That two beings so different were loved by the same people and the same patron. That maybe despite these differences, they could love each other. “If this gift stays with me. I’ll gladly help you with translation when you need them.”

Caduceus looked at Fjord fondly. He placed the palm of his free hand against the side of the half-orc’s face, lifting it so both of their eyes met, and kissed Fjord’s cheek. “That’s very sweet of you. I’d love to take you up on it.”

Fjord’s blush reappeared and stayed throughout the night.

“Awwww!”

“Hush, child. Don’t disturb them.”

Author’s Note: Based on the fact that Caduceus can speak to plants and animals, but is unable to get an understandable reply in return. Written entirely with Everybody Talks by Neon Trees on loop.

For @fjorclayweek 2020 Day 5: Dreams and Day 7: Nature

Cross-posted on AO3 as Everybody Talks (But Especially The Plants) by IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic

[bvzzsaw]

Norman Bates - Fear Headcanons

List originally by:  @horrificmemes​

Post Link 

Requested by: anon

Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside?

(Already posted!)

The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child?

He definitely did, it was one of the few things his mother allowed when he was younger.

Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet?

Probably not. Snakes are too scary looking and he’d feel bad feeding it mice, would much rather have a cat or something alike. 

Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had?

With how sheltered Norman was, the worst he probably got was a bruised knee or bump on the head.

Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror?

Comedy. The man is a big scaredy cat when it comes to any type of horror movie. 

Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance?

(Already posted!)

Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential?

He thinks about this a lot. If his mother wasn’t so strict, if he was able to go out more and maybe see other people beside the people that come and go from the motel. He knows he would have trouble if given the chance, but still wishes he had someway outside of it all. 

Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others?

I feel like just watching the movie solves this one...

Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities?

Scary, yet an exciting idea. He hasn’t known much else outside of the motel and his own home but he likes looking at pictures of cities, all the lights and such. The amount of people is the thing that scares him though.

Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.

His childhood. He’d rather like to have had a more adventurous childhood, if his mother would have allowed it. 

Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain?

Many things, mainly because his mother’s lack of actually explaining anything to him when he was younger.

Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach?

Not at all. The man’s stomach is made of taped together, already broken glass.

Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?

Believe’s in both. Scared of both too. 

Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker?

Nope. Once again, all because of mother-dearest. The fear of everything being dangerous and out to get him makes Norman the exact opposite of a risk-taker. 

Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without.

The motel (its his whole livelihood), favorite candy (keeps him calm and grounded), and morning coffee (has a hard time sleeping, without it he’d be drifting off throughout the day constantly)

Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot?

Very hot, can’t stand the cold.

Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream?

He’s never really had any dreams, and if he did he couldn’t remember them from his mother stomping them out at a young age. 

Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them?

Nope, he might think about it but it’s not within his nature.

The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person?

Nope :/

Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in?

On his side, one hand under his pillow, covers drawn up to the neck. 

Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment? 

Often. Even with his mother’s teachings of “everyone else is sinful expect me” he overtime realized it wasn’t true. 

Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?

The death of his mother. The sudden freedom yet, that’s when everything seemed to spiral. 

Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day?

He knows its not good for him but will try and work through being sick. He is the only person running the motel. 

Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions? 

Yup, almost every one in the book.

Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable.

People raising their voice. It spikes his anxiety and causes his mother to take over. 

Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying. 

Dirty bed sheets. He doesn’t want to know why or how that stain is there but doesn’t appreciate having to clean it.

Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something?

Used to collect those matchbook cars when he was younger, had to fight tooth and nail with his mother about it but eventually had his own small collection.

Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?

50 years loved. Someone please give this man some love. 

Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?

No, he knows he’s an introvert and won’t lie about it either. 

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Ch. 4: Finding Family (College AU)

A/N: Wow I’m writing something. Wow it’s not an ask prompt: it’s a random part of the college AU! I just reblogged the Chicken Nugget the Caterpillar post and got inspired. Take Virgil being nurturing. And don’t let my disdain for Henry David Thoreau ruin your opinion of him! *Random note: a college English survey course is one that dips into a bunch of different authors and works within a single subsection of literature, like American or British. A crisp, sunny afternoon found Virgil in the middle of campus; he reclined with his legs bent against a metal outdoor table, his eyes scanning over the words of Walden, for better or for worse, for his American Literature survey course.* As Virgil rolled his eyes at another one of Thoreau’s self-proclaimed epiphanies, he jumped, suddenly feeling the hairs on his left arm shifting. His gaze snapped down, and he gasped audibly at the bright green creature inching its way toward his hand. “Where the hell did you come from, little guy?” Virgil slowly laid down his book and tenderly poked at the little being with the very tip of his right index finger. The little bug froze, and Virgil giggled. “Sorry I scared you.”

Virgil sighed and leaned his head back, soaking Florida sunshine with a deep inhale. For fear of all types of cancer, he usually stayed inside, but today was Friday. Campus was virtually empty; the air was calm and clear, the sky reflecting this tranquility, and Virgil simply found himself drawn to the small gathering of tables and chairs that were guarded by thick bushes. He supposed that must have been where the caterpillar creeped over from. Virgil peered back at his arm, still finding the insect in the same spot, and he quirked a brow. “I really did spook you, huh?” Guilt tugged at him a bit, but he had an idea. “Patton has been a little sad lately.” Virgil mused to himself and the little one. “Roman, too. They’d love you. Maybe...” Virgil slipped his phone from his pocket and Googled types of green caterpillars in Florida and what butterflies they changed into. “Hmmm....green’s a pretty popular color with you guys, huh? Well, they all look great, so whatever you turn into will be cool.” Virgil eyed his clock and turned off his phone, carefully rising and stretching before bending over for his bag. “We can head home, now, little dude. Pat should be back, and I’m sure he’ll love to see you.” Virgil muttered random thoughts to his new companion as they trekked back to Virgil’s apartment, and just as he pulled up to the door and pulled out his keys, the little bug’s grip came lose, and it fell toward the unforgiving concrete. Virgil yelped in surprise and knelt after it, relieved to see it landed on the welcome mat and not the hard slab, but his breath was labored and eyes intense as he slowly straightened back up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, little guy, oh my gosh-“ “Virgil?” Virgil’s head snapped up, and he clenched his jaw when he absorbed Logan staring at him, brows quirked and hair mussed. Logan napping was unusual, but the thought escaped Virgil when he realized the question asked for more than just identification. “Yeah, uh-“ “Are you alright? Who are you talking to? Are you having an attack?” “No, no, I’m fine....god this is embarrassing.” Logan stepped aside. “Oh, thanks.” “You do live here, after all,” Logan commented, no hint of jest in his voice. “R-right...” Virgil scooted inside, keeping his hand cupped gingerly over the being on his arm. “Are you injured?” Logan peered at his domed fingers. “I...no, but...it might be.” His voice trailed off, and he peeked under his hand before fully revealing his charge. “Ah, a caterpillar. Judging from the bright green hue interspersed with the black and yellow accents, I would assume it will grow to be a swallowtail butterfly.” “Seriously?” Virgil started in awe. “I saw those at the botanical gardens. They’re gorgeous and fun to draw.” “Indeed. You said it might be injured?” “Yeah....” Virgil laughed nervously. “It fell off my arm when I tried to get my keys out. That’s why you heard me talking to myself.” “Oh, I see. Caterpillar’s bodies tend to allow them to be pretty resilient, and if it fell on the doormat, it should be alright.” “Caterpillar?!” Virgil jumped a bit when Patton padded into the room, his eyes a little watery and his steps a little stiff. “Where?!” “Here, Pat.” Virgil extended his arm, and his roommate gasped and inched toward the tiny creature. “Hi, little guy!” Patron whispered and waved, prompting a chuckle from Virgil. “Where’d you find it?” “It found me, actually. I was reading for Am. Lit. over in the Little Grove, and it decided to use my arm like a walking trail.” “So cute! You’re chosen!!” “Chosen? Like the Chosen One?” The final member of the rooming quartet shuffled into the room, stretching and yawning after a heavy nap. “Sure! The Butterfly Whisperer!” “Butterfly?” Roman looked around slowly. “Where? And how did you capture it humanely?” “It’s still a caterpillar, Ro.” Virgil pointed his arm toward Roman. “It found me on campus.” “Well, hello, there, little one.” Roman cooed softly. “Do we have a name for this button-sized beastie?” “No, not really.” Virgil shrugged. “Then, I dub thee: Carterpillar.” “But what if it is female?” Logan interjected. “Katiepillar!” “Kathypillar!” Patton giggled, and Roman shot him fingers guns. “Good one.” “I like ‘Swallow,’ since Logan said it will grow into a Swallowtail.” Virgil piped up quietly. “Swallow...I like it! Very YA Fantasy.” Roman mused, a hand on his chin for show. “Me, too! It’s cute!” Patton fluttered around the stagnant creature, checking it out at all angles. “Yes, you can hold it, Pat.” Virgil rolled his eyes affectionately and carefully plucked the bug off of himself and placed it in Patton’s eagerly awaiting palms. “Ooo thank you!” Patton danced a little, being sure to keep his hands as still as possible. “It’s so cute! Can we keep it? And raise it into a butterfly?!” “I imagine so. I can look into online resources on butterfly rearing.” Logan pulled out his phone and began searching, muttering to himself about making sure they could obtain the proper host plants for their new charge. “I have a tank!” Patton exclaimed, and the others turned to him. “You do?” Virgil asked. “I....had a pet turtle.” Patton blushed. “I’ve been wanting to get a new one, but I just...haven’t quite gotten over Franklin....or had the money to properly care for one.” “That’s...fair.” Roman raised his brows quickly. “We can leave it on the coffee table or the breakfast bar.” “I’ll get it! Here, Ro.” Patton slowly handed the insect off to Roman and headed for his room. “It is a rather lovely creature, isn’t it?” Roman mused softly, drawing his hands to his face. “Amazing that something like this should exist naturally.” “Indeed. The wonders of the natural world are endless.” Logan sighed softly, traces of a fond smile pulling at his lips. “Would you like to hold it, Logan?” “I would prefer not to, honestly. I can observe him quite well from here.” “Okay.” Roman shrugged and went back to bug-gazing. “Amazing that the anti-social butterfly should bring us this little gem.” “It’s because of that, Caprincious.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Gimme my bug baby back.” He twitched his fingers in Roman’s direction. “Or put it in Patton’s tank.” Logan gestured toward the approaching youth who placed the tank on the kitchen counter. “Let’s get some sticks and leaves and stuff first.” After outfitting Swallow’s new home, the quartet stood back and admired their handiwork, but Roman’s face soon fell. “Why is it just sitting there? Surely it would want to explore.” “It is likely making sure it is safe first.” Logan commented. “It has been transferred between unfamiliar, moving bodies, after all. Let’s give it some space.” The other three nodded in agreement and scattered to their respective afternoon activities. A little while later, Virgil slipped into the kitchen for a snack and smiled; Swallow had inched its way up a thick stick Roman had found (or...broken off of a tree...) for it. Virgil laughed under his breath and whispered, “Just takes a bit, huh? I relate, little guy. It’s...a lot to take in at first, but once you get settled here, it’s hard to imagine living anywhere else.” “AWWW, VIRGIIILLLL!” Virgil jumped and Patton sat up from his reclining spot on the couch, an English text in one hand. Virgil tried to smile in return and shrank into his hoodie, shuffling back toward his room. “Don’t worry, buddy.” Patton murmured toward Swallow. “You’ll both grow into yourselves one day. I just know it.” The young man hummed happily at the thought and was just settling in when a quiet chuckle made him jump. “Are you talking to Swallow, Pat?” Patton peeked over the back of the couch to find Roman standing outside of his door. “I heard voices and you yelling...or squealing.” “Virgil was being all soft and sweet with Swallow, and I couldn’t contain myself.” Patton gushed, giggling at the recent memory. “We both know well that he is a softie, no matter how hard he tries to seem.” “Shut up!” Virgil yelled from beyond his half-open door. “Virgil!” “Get used to it, Swallow.” Roman stage-whispered conspiratorially. “It’s always loud around here.” “Because we’re a family!” Patton cut in, smiling brightly. “Yes,” Roman mused, gazing at Patton fondly. “I suppose we are. We even have a pet.” Patton giggled and disappeared behind the couch again, missing the brief, misty-eyed longing on Roman’s face before he schooled his expression and padded back toward his room. “Chinese for dinner?” Roman asked over his shoulder. “We just had Chinese.” Virgil quipped from his room. “I like Chinese, but I like a lot of food!” Patton called back. “I have a coupon for the sandwich shop on Main.” Logan added from his room. “Perfect.” All three replied simultaneously. “Yup. Just like a family.” Roman thought before falling into his bed with a sigh. “Please let it stay this way.” Angst on the horizon? Who knows! I don’t. Hope you enjoyed!

[wavesofthewest]

Chapter 7: Ancestral Awakenings

Fate: 40-50 coli battles

Ashes coughed. He felt dizzy and a bit weak, but after what had happened at the parade, he was glad to be alive.

Blinking his eyes open, Ashes raised his head and looked around himself. He didn't recognise the area, which meant that the Tribe had probably moved on from the Clan of the Rising Tide. The cave looked a lot like the hand-burrowed ones the Tribe usually dug while travelling.

"Blue? Sage?" he called out, sitting up and immediately regretting it. "Heaven? Ab?"

A familiar figure rushed into the cave and hugged the guardian around his neck, almost strangling him with how tightly she was holding.

"Glad to see you too," he laughed, pulling out of the hug. His sister shook her head and sighed.

"Don't you dare ever do that again! We were worried sick about you! Poison managed to stabilise you, but all of us thought you were dead for sure. Seriously, try not to get stuck in the crowd next time we go to a festival parade."

"Alright, alright, I get it. I shouldn't almost die in the future," Ashes replied. "Where are we, anyway?"

"We're heading south. I don't really know why, but we are. Something about Wind dragons being friendly or something. I don't really remember."

The Minstral Jamboree! I totally forgot about it, Ashes thought. He stood up, winced, and slowly made his way out of the cave. Time to show Blue and Sage that I'm still alive.

When he came out of the cave, he could see Abstract looking over the neighbouring pools, most likely deep in thought. Ashes knew that the fae liked to be alone a lot of the time, which he often was since Blue and Sage tended to hang out together and Ashes spent a lot of his sister. He wondered if Abstract ever got lonely. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stand so much time alone.

"Ab?" the guardian called, making the fae perk up and turn around. Ashes could see the smile slowly form on his face and grinned.

"Ashes! You're awake! Let me get your parents and we'll fill you in on what happened while you were asleep."

It didn't take long before the five of them sat inside the cave, snacking on insects. Ashes was sandwiched between his parents, who had been overjoyed to find out that he'd woken up.

"So basically, Poison helped save my life and because of that, she was allowed to live? Then we travelled south in order to catch the Jamboree when it came around?" the guardian said, summarising what the others had told him in the last ten minutes.

"Yup. Although it's possible to travel through most of the Sea in about a month, we wanted to take it slow and maybe take a few detours along the way, so we figured we might as well head in the general direction now," Sage replied.

Abstract nodded. "There's a scholar we're supposed to meet today. Do you know how many weird legends there are around Sornieth, like the Cursed Tribe and the Windfall Crystal? Some of them are real, and this guy offered us information on one of them. Travelling is fun and all, but we might as well hunt down a few legends while we're at it."

"Speaking of, we really should go. It's starting to get late and we don't want to arrive only to find out he's gone to sleep," Blue added, brushing her untouched pile of insects away and standing. "Ashes, do you feel like coming or are you too weak?"

"Of course I'm coming! Legends and all that - it's not really my thing, but any excuse to walk around and do something is appreciated. I'm so stiff I feel like an Earth dragon," Ashes grinned, taking the last bite out of his food.

The Tribe left the cave and walked for about half an hour before Abstract climbed onto Blue's back and they flew, making the trip much faster. The scholar lived in a hut, which was unusual, surrounded by small tidal pools. They landed next to the hut and Blue, after thinking for a while, lifted a paw and knocked on the wall.

An opening appeared on the side of the hut and the Tribe stepped inside. The scholar didn't appear like one, but Ashes knew better than to judge on looks.

"You were looking for the Ancestral Coliseum, yes?" the scholar asked, sifting through papers. He wasn't making eye contact with any of them, which Ashes thought was a bit odd. "Right this way, if you please."

The Tribe followed the scholar - who was a black bogsneak, Ashes noticed - into a large room. He drew a circle on the floor with a claw and beckoned for them to stand inside it.

"Here's the payment," Blue said, holding out a small bag, which Ashes assumed was filled with treasure. The bogsneak took the bag and tossed it into a corner, all the while not looking up from his papers.

"So, I can send you to the Coliseum, but there is a price," the scholar said, glancing at the circle, then at Blue. "And I don't mean the treasure fee. I need a huge amount of magic to be able to send you there - so much, in fact, that it'll kill whoever's magic is used. Are you sure you want to go?"

Blue nodded. "Use my magic. We're ready."

Ashes was surprised. He knew that Blue was ready to sacrifice a lot, but he thought that her life was worth more to her than a legend. He glanced at Abstract, who looked back but didn't respond, then at Sage, who was staring at the floor. The guardian glanced back at the scholar, who was channelling elemental magic through their bodies, making them corporeal so that they could survive in the Ancestral Coliseum.

Arriving at the Coliseum was disorientating. Since his body wasn't whole, Ashes felt off-balance, but that wasn't his biggest concern. Blue had just sacrificed herself so that they could go to the Ancestral Coliseum - his mother, and the Tribe Leader. He turned to look at the others, but what he saw jarred him.

Blue was standing healthily with Abstract and Sage.

Lying on the floor of the coliseum, motionless, was Heaven.

Ashes choked on his breath. Heaven!? But how? Wasn't the scholar supposed to channel the magic through Blue? How did it go through Heaven instead?

Blue shook her head. "I don't know, either. There must have been some kind of mistake or something. But what's done is done..." Ashes realised he must have said his thoughts out loud. Whoops. Should be more careful in the future.

"How can you not be upset at a time like this!?" Sage whispered. "How? She was your daughter! She-"

"I know, Sage, I know. I am. I'm just...trying to keep my head on my shoulders like you tell me to do oh-so-often. She's gone, and there's nothing we can do about it. We have to move on," Blue cut in. Ashes could hear her choke back tears towards the end. He could understand what she was saying - Heaven was gone, there was nothing they could do about it, and they just had to move on with their lives.

"Now that," a voice said from behind them, "is the smartest thing I've ever heard you say, Blue of the Tribe of Clear Waters."

Ashes spun around to see a familiar white fae casually hovering by the entrance. She had her eyes glued to Heaven's body, and the guardian didn't know if it was because she enjoyed the sight or because she was as horrified as they were.

"Hello," Poison sighed. "I guess we meet again."

[jaguarundis]

Dream Made Real

A little oneshot for xio @kuurapika ‘s lovely characters!! This is way overdue, but it was lots of fun to work on and helped me stretch my writing muscles a bit. Hope you enjoy it! 

1.3k words on girls being gay UNDER the cut

The sun glows white-hot and overly bright in a blue, blue sky. Winged creatures sing strange and musical songs from the treetops. Somewhere out of sight, a waterfall is making a quiet rushing sound.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best days: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of content.

That is, until the peaceful spell is very rudely broken by a crashing sound from a distant grove of trees. Which can only mean one thing--

“Found you, Azari!”

Yup. It’s Ina, looking disheveled from her travel through the woods but also unfairly pretty at the same time. The sight of Azari’s girlfriend--girlfriend!! She still can’t believe it--makes her heart jump suddenly against her ribcage. It’s been far too long.

“You’re late,” Azari points out, trying to hide her smile.

“Excuse me for having trouble making it to the middle of nowhere,” Ina fires back, but there’s no bite to her voice. “This whole thing was your idea! I just got dragged along for the ride.”

“So you’re not happy to see me, then?”

“Hey, I never said that.”

Both of them are quiet for all of a second before glancing at each other and bursting into laughter. Even after months of dating, they’ve never gotten tired of their own banter. Azari knows that she, at least, will never pass up an easy opportunity to get a laugh out of Ina. She suspects that the feeling is mutual.

“Well, let’s get going. If we manage our time right, we can probably hike all along the longest trail by sunset.”

“Lame,” Ina says, but she’s grinning anyways.

Sometime later, the sun has traced a wide path across the sky. Noon brings with it more warmth, but also more insects. Far too many insects. Azari swats aside an iridescent winged menace for the umpteenth time before linking her fingers with Ina’s. She doesn’t miss the redness creeping into Ina’s cheeks and the tips of her ears at the gesture. None of them speak to acknowledge it, but the silence is comfortable. It settles over them with the lightness of silk threads.

As Ina and Azari weave their way through fallen branches and overgrown shrubs, the various sounds of the woods fade into the background, overtaken by the distinct noise of a something else: something new.

A waterfall.

The very waterfall that Azari remembers hearing earlier that morning, in fact.

Except oh, it looks so much grander up close, and all the more breathtaking. Azari has to crane her neck to see where it begins among the frothy white bubbles: upon her examination, it seems to trace back to a craggy collection of boulders, about seventy feet up in the air.

Azari kneels down beside the pool where the waterfall ends and dips the fingers of her metallic arm in its coolness. A thin orange-blue fish zips by her hand, a blur of color and motion. The water sighs and burbles in the way that water does, and Azari is so caught up in its rhythm that she almost doesn’t notice Ina sneaking up behind her.

Almost.

“Watcha up to? Talking to the fishes?” Ina has both of arms draped around Azari’s shoulders from behind, and she’s taken the liberty of propping her chin on her head too. Azari can feel her skin tingling from the contact. Her enhanced senses are a blessing and curse, times like this.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Azari finally manages, trying to look up at Ina backwards. It doesn’t work.

Ina absentmindedly twirls a strand of Azari’s hair between her fingers. “Mhmm,” she hums, voice dreamy. “I think we should have something to eat, don’t you? I’m famished.”

Azari blinks at the sudden change in topic. She wriggles around in Ina’s grasp to face her, tucking her legs underneath herself to sit properly. “Well, my pack isn’t just for show. You can help yourself, you know. I have some boar meat in there, rice from yesterday’s leftovers, cornbread, a bottle of raspberry wine I snuck out of the pantry…” She trails off with a sly smile when she sees Ina’s eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“Yes way, and I can prove it!”

Ina beats her to the worn leathery hunting pack, though, and fishes out the bottle in question. She makes a face. “Azari, you bold faced liar!”

Azari giggles. She can’t help it. “Well, you see, it technically is raspberry juice, and who knows how long it’s been in Mom’s cupboard, so--”

“Come on, Azari! What happened to good old-fashioned drunken fun?”

“Hilarious. You can say that again when we’re of age.”

Ina pointedly sticks out her tongue, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she plops down on the grassy ground and fishes out a sizable loaf of cornbread from Azari’s pack. Azari settles beside her, but not before retrieving the aforementioned rice for herself.

The sky twists and contorts into a sunset: blue and purple and orange clouds sprawl out across the pink backdrop. Azari watches with her head tipped back, not wanting to miss a moment of it. Around her, she can make out the shadowy shapes of tree trunks and smooth boulders and forest ferns, as well as the jagged rocks shaping the waterfall nearby. Ina is shadowed by the sunset, too, but only halfway. The sun’s managed to illuminate a strand of her hair so that it looks glossy and faded all at once, and her eyes are unusually bright.

Unusually bright-- and focused on her. Azari feels her skin tingling again, not unlike before. She knows Ina inside out. She knows her desires, knows her dreams and aspirations, knows her fears and sorrows.

And she knows what that look means.

Azari suddenly feels uncomfortably aware of herself: her right hand, with the fingers splayed out on the soil and grass. Her hair brushing against the back of her neck. Every movement of her mouth as she swallows. Her heart pulsing in her chest like a contained beast.

Slowly, carefully, she shifts to face Ina. Their eyes meet. And Azari’s breath catches when she sees Ina’s eyes-- really sees them, every fleck of color and every flash of emotion.

Ina is so beautiful it hurts.

But as it is, Azari doesn’t have long to agonize over the fact, which is just as well. If she did, she’d surely sink so far into the depths of infatuation that she’d never return.

No, Azari doesn’t get the chance to contemplate her bubbling feelings further, because Ina seems to read her mind and smiles--really smiles, pure and compassionate-- before cupping Azari’s cheek in her hand and kissing her.

Around them, time seems to trickle impossibly slowly. Clouds inch unhurriedly across the sky. The crickets barely whisper. Even the waterfall’s incessant roar sounds muted. The forest is bathed in pink and black and orange, and it’s beautiful, and Ina’s beautiful, and Azari is kissing her back.

For that moment, nothing else exists.

It’s been a minute, or a few minutes, or an hour, before the two of them pull apart. Azari feels flushed all over. Her mouth buzzes with the memory of Ina’s lips on hers.

She’s certain Ina is in a similar state, but she can’t tell for sure. The shadows have expanded to cover every part of her save for the glint of her teeth in the dark.

A beat of silence, and then:

“Azari, the look on your face!”

“Oh, shut up!!”

But they’re both smiling now, because the world is dark, and the night air is soothing, and nothing warms the heart like cornbread and leftover rice and a shared kiss during a sunset.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best nights: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of love.

[7r0773r]

Why Fish Don’t Exist: A Story of Loss, Love, and the Hidden Order of Life by Lulu Miller

Specifically, [Louis] Agassiz believed that hiding in nature was a divine hierarchy of God’s creations that, if gleaned, would provide moral instruction. This idea of a moral code hidden in nature—a hierarchy, a ladder or “gradation” of perfection—has been with us for a long time. Aristotle envisioned a holy ladder—later Latinized to Scala Naturae—in which all living organisms could be arranged in a continuum of lowly to divine, with humans at the top, followed by animals, insects, plants, rocks, and so on. And Agassiz believed that by arranging these organisms into their proper order, one could come to discern not just the intent of a holy maker but perhaps even the instructions for how to become better. (p. 25)

***

There’s an idea in philosophy that certain things don’t exist until they get a name. Abstract things like justice, nostalgia, infinity, love, or sin. The thinking goes that these concepts do not sit out there on some ethereal plane waiting to be discovered by humans but instead snap into being when someone invents a name for them. The moment the name is uttered, the concept becomes “real,” in the sense that it can affect reality. We can declare war, truce, bankruptcy, love, innocence, or guilt, and in so doing, change the course of people’s lives. The name itself is a thing of great power, then, the vessel that drags the idea from the imaginary to the earthly realm. Before the word, however, the thinking goes, the concept is largely inert. (p. 63)

***

So there it was. As David swept up the glass in his lab, as he began to try to piece his life back together, the thing he was whispering to himself was a lie.

It is the will of man that shapes the fates.

It was shocking to see, a surprise based on everything he stood for. But considering the fact that David ultimately ended up being able to salvage so much of his collection, considering that thousands of specimens remain today over a century later, considering that by so many measures David Starr Jordan’s life turned out to be one of unusual success—the wives, the presidencies, the awards, the Garden of Eden complete with dog-riding monkeys and Latin-speaking parrots and taxonomy-loving children—I was beginning to wonder if self-delusion was such a bad thing. Maybe he and my father didn’t need to be so moralistic about it, calling it a sin to avoid at all costs. (p. 97)

***

And then there was that key point in On the Origin of Species. That crucial point that somehow both David and before him Francis Galton had missed. What does Darwin say is the best way of building a strong species, of allowing it to endure into the future, to withstand the blows of Chaos in all her mighty forms—flood, drought, rising sea levels, fluctuating temperatures, invasions of competitors, predators, pests? 

Variation. Variation in genes, and hence in behavior and physical traits. Homogeneity is a death sentence. To rid a species of its mutants and outliers is to make that species dangerously vulnerable to the elements. In nearly every chapter of Origin, Darwin hails the power of "Variation." He marvels over how diverse gene pools are healthier and stronger, how intercrossing between different types of individuals gives more "vigor and fertility" to their offspring, how even worms and plants that can produce perfect replicas of themselves are equipped for sex, for introducing variety back into the gene pool. "How strange are these facts!" he cries. "How simply are these facts explained on the view of an occasional cross with a distinct individual being advantageous or indispensable!"

"Diversify your genetic portfolio" would be another way of saying it. You never know which traits could prove useful as conditions change. Darwin even goes out of his way to warn against meddling, The danger, as he sees it, is the fallibility of the human eye, our inability to comprehend complexity. Traits that might seem "abhorrent to our ideas of fitness" could actually be beneficial to a species or ecosystem, or could, in time, become beneficial as conditions change. It was that ungainly neck that gave the giraffe an edge over its competitors, the seeming deadweight of blubber that allowed the seal to thrive in the advancing cold, the divergent human brain that might hold the key to inventions, discoveries, and revolutions that the majority is unable to fathom. "Man can act only on external and visible characters; nature cares nothing for appearances. . . . She can act on every internal organ, on every shade of constitutional difference, on the whole machinery of life." 

Consider the case of the cyanobacteria. A tiny green speck in the sea, so insignificant to the human eye that for centuries we didn't even have a name for it. Until one day in the 1980s when scientists accidentally discovered it was producing a significant portion of the oxygen we breathe. Now we revere it, this tiny green speck, Prochlorococcus marinus; we fight to protect it. This was the kind of scenario Darwin prophesied. Why he warned, so unambiguously, against attempting to rank Earth's bounty: "Which group will prevail, no man can predict." 

And this wariness, this humility, this reverence for an ecological complexity that defies human comprehension is, in fact, a very old idea. It's a basic philosophical concept sometimes called the "dandelion principle": in some contexts a dandelion might be considered a weed to be culled; in others, it's a valuable medicinal herb to be cultivated. 

The eugenicists failed to consider this very simple principle of relativity. By trying to cull the gene pool of its "indispensable" variety, they were in fact foiling their very best shot of building a master race. (pp. 133-35)

***

I had been fashioning myself after a villain, after all. (p. 143)

***

"I just wish he had considered what Oliver Cromwell once said," Luther Spoehr told me on the phone one June morning, as he tried to make sense of this man he had studied for so many years. "I beseech thee in the bowels of Christ, consider that thee might be mistaken.'" 

"Are you saying you wish he had more doubt?" I asked. 

"Yup." 

But he didn't. Despite his prophet's warning that "science, generally, hates beliefs"—David held fast to this idea of a ladder. He clung to it, in the face of waves of counterevidence that should have eventually eroded it. 

When Darwin came along, debunking the idea of a divine plan, David accepted that Earth's creatures had come about accidentally. But he somehow found a way to preserve the idea of a hierarchy of perfection. He told himself that time, not God, had forged its shape—the slow tick of time forming fitter, more intelligent, more morally advanced forms of life. 

When he encountered the growing chorus of opposition to his eugenics agenda, when judges and lawyers and governors began trying to overturn eugenic laws, he wrote them off as sentimental, unscientific. When scientists began to question eugenics, to point out all its shoddy assumptions about the heritability of morality, about the concept of degeneration, he questioned their courage, their commitment to the cause of bettering society. 

But perhaps the most damning argument came from nature herself. Had David followed his own advice to look to nature for truth, he would have seen it. This dazzling, feathery, squawking, gurgling mound of counterevidence. Animals can outperform humans on nearly every measure supposedly associated with our superiority. There are crows that have better memories than us, chimps with better pattern-recognition skills, ants that rescue their wounded, and blood flukes with higher rates of monogamy. When you actually examine the range of life on Earth, it takes a lot of acrobatics to sort it into a single hierarchy with humans at the top. We don't have the biggest brain or the best memory. We're not the fastest or the strongest or the most prolific. We're not the only ones that mate for life, that show altruism, use tools, language. We don't have the most copies of genes in circulation. We aren't even the newest creation on the block. 

This was what Darwin was trying so hard to get his readers to see. There is no ladder. Natura non facit saltunt, he cries in his scientist's tongue. There are no "jumps." The rungs we see are figments of our imagination, more about "convenience” than truth. To Darwin, a parasite was not an abomination but a marvel. A case of extraordinary adaptability. The sheer range of creatures in existence, great and small, feathered and glowing, goitered and smooth, was proof that there are endless ways of surviving and thriving in this world. 

So why was David unable to see it? This mountain of counterevidence stacked up against his faith in a ladder. Why would he protect it, this arbitrary belief about how plants and creatures should be arranged? When challenged, why would he only double down and use it to justify such violent measures? 

Perhaps because his belief gave him something more important than truth. 

Not just that first spark of purpose as a young man on Penikese, not just a career and a cause and a wife and a cushy life. But something even more profound. A way of turning that roiling morass, of the sea, of the stars, of his dizzying life, into clear, shining order. 

To let go, at any point—from his first read of Darwin to his last push for eugenics—would have been to invite a return to vertigo. He would have been transported back to being that lost little boy, shaking before a world that had just taken his brother. A terrified child, powerless before the world, with no way of understanding or controlling it. To let go of that hierarchy would be to release a tornado of life, beetles and hawks and bacteria and sharks, swirling high into the air, all around him, above him. 

It would have been too disorienting. 

It would have been Chaos.

It would have been—

—the very same vision of the world I myself had been fighting so hard not to look at ever since I was a little girl. That sense of falling off the edge of the world, plummeting alongside ants and stars, with no purpose or point. Of glimpsing the glaring, relentless truth so clear from inside the swirl of Chaos. You don’t matter.

That’s what the ladder offered David. An antidote. A foothold. The lovely, warm feeling of significance.

In that light, I could understand why he clung to it so tightly, this vision of a natural order. Why he protected it so ferociously—against morality, against reason, against truth. Even as I despised him for it, on some level I craved the very same thing. (pp. 145-47)

***

And that’s when it hit me. That it was not a lie to say that Anna matters. Or that Mary matters. Or that—hold on to your seat—you matter, Reader.

It wasn’t a lie to say so, but a more accurate way of seeing nature.

It was the dandelion principle!

To some people a dandelion might look like a weed, but to others that same plant can be so much more. To an herbalist, it’s a medicine—a way of detoxifying the liver, clearing the skin, and strengthening the eyes. To a painter, it’s a pigment; to a hippie, a crown; a child, a wish. To a butterfly, it’s sustenance; to a bee, a mating bed; to an ant, one point in a vast olfactory atlas.

And so it must be with humans, with us. From the perspective of the stars or infinity or some eugenic dream of perfection, sure, one human life might not seem to matter. It might be a speck on a speck on a speck, soon gone. But that was just one of infinite perspectives. From the perspective of an apartment in Lynchburg, Virginia, that very same human could be so much more. A stand-in mother. A source of laughter. A way of surviving one’s darkest years.

This was what Darwin was trying so hard to get his readers to see: that there is never just one way of ranking nature’s organisms. To get stuck on a single hierarchy is to miss the bigger picture, the messy truth of nature, the “whole machinery of life.” The work of good science is to try to peer beyond the “convenient” lines we draw over nature. To peer beyond intuition, where something wilder lives. To know that in every organism at which you gaze, there is complexity you will never comprehend.

As I kept driving, I pictured all the dandelions in the whole wide world nodding their heads in unison at me finally getting it, waving beyond my wheels, shaking their yellow pom-poms, cheering me on. At long last, I had found it, a retort to my father. We matter, we matter. In tangible, concrete ways human beings matter to this planet, to society, to one another. It was not a lie to say so. Not a sappy cop-out or a sin. It was Darwin’s creed! It was, conversely, a lie to say only that we didn’t matter and keep it at that. That was too gloomy. Too rigid. Too shortsighted. Dirtiest word of all: unscientific. (pp. 162-63)

***

. . . . “Fish,” in a certain sense, is a derogatory term. A word we use to hide that complexity, to keep ourselves comfortable, to feel further away from them than we actually are. (p. 181)

***

Now when I l ie in bed next to my emerald-eyed wife, and the gun comes—and it still comes, will probably always still come—I consider its offerings. The relief it could bring. The solution to that day’s stresses and messes I have made. An end to shame.

And then I consider the fish. The fact that fish don’t exist. I picture a silvery fish dissolving in my hand. If fish don’t exist, what else don’t we know about our world? What other truths are waiting behind the lines we draw over nature? What other categories are about to cave in? Could clouds be animate? Who knows. On Neptune, it rains diamonds; it really does. Scientists figured that out just a few years ago. The longer we examine our world, the stranger it proves to be. Perhaps there will be a mother waiting inside a person deemed unfit. Perhaps there will be medicine inside a weed. Salvation inside the kind of person you had discounted. 

When I give up the fish, I get, at long last, that thing I had been searching for: a mantra, a trick, a prescription for hope. I get the promise that there are good things in store. Not because I deserve them. Not because I worked for them. But because they are as much a part of Chaos as destruction and loss. Life, the flip side of death. Growth, of rot. 

The best way of ensuring that you don't miss them, these gifts, the trick that has helped me squint at the bleakness and see them more clearly, is to admit, with every breath, that you have no idea what you are looking at. To examine each object in the avalanche of Chaos with curiosity, with doubt. Is this storm a bummer? Maybe it's a chance to get the streets to yourself, to be licked by raindrops, to reset. Is this party as boring as I assume it will be? Maybe there will be a friend waiting, with a cigarette in her mouth, by the back door of the dance floor, who will laugh with you for years to come, who will transmute your shame to belonging.

I am not saying I'm always so good at looking at the world in this way. I cling to my certainty—teddy bear that it is—and my grudges stay intact; my fear stays charged, the earth flat. But then I read a news article about, say, a new organ discovered in the human body called the "interstitium." There all along but somehow missed by millennia of humans. And the world cracks open a bit. I am reminded to do as Darwin did: to wonder about the reality waiting behind our assumptions. Perhaps that unsightly bacteria is producing the oxygen you need to breathe. Perhaps that heartbreak will prove to be a gift, the hard edge off which you reluctantly bounce to find a better match. Perhaps even your dreams need examining. Perhaps even your hope . . . needs some doubt. (pp. 190-92)

[kootenaygoon]

So,

The guy had been bludgeoned to death by his own chauffeur.

His name was Francis Rattenbury, a famous architect responsible for designing Victoria’s Parliament Building and the Empress Hotel, and he’d traveled to the Kootenays to work on an impressive stone courthouse in the dead centre of town. The dude had traveled all over the world and won widespread acclaim, but ended his life in a gasping, bloody pulp because his wife was fucking his teenage driver. Some say his soul still lingers in his creations, thirsty for revenge.

The vines on Rattenbury’s courthouse are a vibrant green for most of the year, but pivot towards a blood-red colour as summer transitions into fall. It stands sentinel while inside the daily drama of justice plays out. Most of Nelson drives by it every single day, ignorant of what goes on behind the pale stone. It was an intimidating and completely alien place to me, and every week I admired how Ed and Greg could march in there and dredge up incredible court stories on everything from child pornographers to drunk drivers and arrested logging protesters. It was a scary amount of privilege, reporting on what most people prefer to keep private, and it was a skill I was determined to learn.

It was 8 a.m., long before I normally started work, but Greg had sent me down to finally capture a shot of Andrew Stevenson being led into court. I’d been following Ed’s coverage closely, keen to learn more about this shotgun-wielding phantom, and the prospect of seeing him in person had me jittery and half-drunk on anticipation. I felt like one of those Beatles girls that was waiting on the tarmac when the Fab Four first touched down. 

“Hey, you’re going to have to move up to the sidewalk. We’re going to be transporting prisoners here in a minute,” one of the sheriffs said, his face furrowed like he was holding in a fart.

“Nobody’s allowed past the top of the stairs.”

I explained to him that I was a journalist from the Nelson Star, and I was told this would be the best place to get a photo. I handed him my card, which he frowned at. Then he glanced around, sighed, and told me I’d have to wait until his boss came around. In the meantime he didn’t want me to move from the bottom step.

“This is slated for the cover of our Friday issue,” I told him. “I’ve been trying to get this shot for over a year, but the dude keeps appearing by videolink.”

He blinked slowly. “Sit tight.”

For another ten minutes I watched the wind rustle the vines, and even took some macro shots of insects while I waited. The sky was clouded over and the wind was brisk. I watched a little convoy of vehicles appear in the parking lot a hundred feet away, and then a strict-looking female sheriff came striding up to where I stood. She was about to tell me to vamoose, like her colleague, when she noticed who it was. I’d been hanging out with her the week previous, covering her participation in the Cops 4 Kids fundraiser, and I’d taken a great shot of her along with her children. Her face transformed, and for a moment she shifted from one foot to the next, trying to figure out what to do with me.

“You’re here for Stevenson?” she asked. 

“Yup, I was just telling your guy that we’re hoping to get a cover shot for the Friday edition.”

She nodded. “Okay, well Stevenson isn’t my only prisoner today. We’re going to be bringing in four or five people before him. I’m going to need your word that you won’t take pictures of any of them. Only him.”

“Easy. Done. Of course.”

She nodded again, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Now I want you to stand right there in the grass, in that corner, and I don’t want you to move. The sheriffs will be blocking him as he walks up the sidewalk, but as he rounds this corner you’ll have a few moments to take your picture. You’ll have to be quick.”

“I can be quick, for sure.”

She walked over and demonstrated, miming a camera, how she thought I could get the best angle. It occurred to me that in only moments she’d gone from kicking me off the lawn to giving me a step-by-step walkthrough of how to accomplish my task. Journalism karma, I thought, thanking her profusely. She shrugged and rattled her keys, hurrying off to whatever was next.

It took another ten minutes for the sheriffs to unload the prisoners, and one by one they filed past me with mournful expressions. Some of them were in ankle bracelets and prison attire, while one teenage girl sauntered inside wearing skateboard shoes and a jean skirt. The handcuffs were the only hint that there was anything unusual going on with her. I stood with my arms crossed, my gaze down, while they headed inside to their fates.

“Okay, buddy,” one of the sheriffs said, with a nod. “This is him coming next.”

My heartbeat was thudding against my throat as the entourage approached, two sheriffs blocking my view just like the boss had described. I took a couple long shots that didn’t work, then took a long breath through my nostrils and waited for my moment to come. Just like taking pictures of Nel the osprey a year earlier, I knew the final image would rely on near perfect timing. I watched as the sheriffs rounded the corner and exposed Stevenson, whose gaze was downcast as he loped past.

He had acne-scarred cheeks, a bad haircut and cheap-looking thrift store clothing. The dude was approximately my age and shorter than I’d imagined. The word that rung through my head was pathetic. This wasn’t some monstrous villain; he was just a sick human that had made some bad choices. As my shutter clicked I knew that I would never think about him the same way again. In that moment he transitioned from a fictional character into something else entirely. I felt a stomach clench of empathy, hit the shutter once more, and then he was gone.

The Kootenay Goon

[bvzzsaw]

Doc O’Hare - Fear Headcanons

List originally by: @horrificmemes​

Post Link

Requested by: anon

Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside?

Seeing how his home practically is outside, he doesn’t do either. He just lets them crawl about.

The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child?

Nope, couldn’t afford one

Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet?

He would if he could tbqh.

Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had?

Stabbed and slashed with a pocket knife, has the scars on his stomach to prove it. 

Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror?

Comedy, much rather prefers a good laugh than a scare.

Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance?

His face.

Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential?

Not really, he seems perfectly content living the life of a mad scientist rabbit.

Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others?

His past life and the things he can’t remember. He knows it was bad before and would rather not bring up and talk about them. Live in the moment and all that.

Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities?

Has a very glorified version of “the Big City”, think of how they’re described in older Broadway shows. 

Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.

Can’t remember anything he’s lost. Makes it hard for you to want something back you can’t remember that you lost. 

Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain?

Ya man kinda gets hallucinations on the reg’ soooo, yeah he’s seen lost of things he can’t explain but he keeps it to himself most of the time.

Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach?

The want to not barf inside a mascot head does things to strengthen your stomach.

Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?

Yup! Believes rabbits are a good luck charm “you should keep me around then huh?”

Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker?

All takes Doc does are risky. Think: Immortality Complex

Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without.

Mascot head, 

Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot?

Very cold, he’s used to it by now.

Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream?

He believes he can still achieve his dreams, but before he lost all his memory yes, he gave up on every single one of them.

Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them?

Yup, must have not been enough gifts and letters. Gotta send more!

The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person?

In his own crackhead sense, yes.

Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in?

On his back, limbs spread out, blankets a mess. (Mascot head does stay on while he sleeps.)

Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment? 

Absolutely adores the idea of love and commitment, would treat every partner he has like its his last.

Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?

When he stumbled across the abandoned theme park. 

Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day?

Stays in bed, chugging down stolen cold medicine.

Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions? 

Yup!

Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable.

Ambulance sirens, brings on some sick feeling in his stomach he can’t explain.

Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying. 

Cops.

Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something?

Many of things, probably has a bag somewhere filled with bits and bobs of nothing in particular. Just things he finds interesting.

Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?

50 years loved. The man is a romantic who lives off of affection. 

Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?

Yup! Very outgoing, very clearly outgoing too. 

[themastercylinder]

  SUMMARY

In the distant future, at a genetic research station located on the remote desert planet of Xarbia, a research team has created an experimental lifeform they have designated “Subject 20”. This lifeform was built out of the synthetic DNA strain, “Proto B”, and was intended to stave off a galaxy-wide food crisis. However, Subject 20 mutates rapidly and uncontrollably and kills all of the laboratory subject animals before cocooning itself within an examination booth. After Subject 20 hatches from its cocoon, it begins killing the personnel at the station, starting with the lab tech charged with cleansing the subject lab of the dead animal test subjects.

Professional troubleshooter Mike Colby, accompanied by his robot assistant SAM-104, is called in to investigate the problem. After Colby settles in, his decision to terminate Subject 20 to prevent further deaths is met with research-minded secrecy and resistance. The staff of the station includes the head of research, Gordon Hauser, his assistant Barbara Glaser, lab assistant Tracy Baxter, the station head of security and Cal Timbergen, the chief of bacteriology.

As Subject 20 continues to kill most of the station crew, the reason for the deception is revealed. Subject 20’s genetic design incorporates human DNA, and its method of killing is to inject its prey with the Proto B DNA strain which then proceeds to remove all genetic differences within specific cells. The result is that the victim’s living body slowly erodes into gelatinous pile of pure protein which Subject 20 consumes for sustenance. After its final mutation, where the creature evolves into a huge insect-like being with a large mouth full of sharp teeth, the creature is slain when it eats Cal’s cancer-ridden liver, its body genetically self-destructing from within. Mike and Tracy are the only survivors.

  DEVELOPMENT

FORBIDDEN WORLD is the proving ground for first-time director Alan Holzman, another in a long line of Corman’s protégés (including Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich and Martin Scorsese). Holzman put together Corman’s theatrical trailers for the last couple of years, and like Joe Dante, another Corman promoted editor, asked for a chance to direct. Sets used in filming GALAXY OF TERROR were still standing and camera equipment was not due back at the rental outlet till the end of the week, so Corman agreed. “Show me what you can do in one day,” he said. Frantically, Holzman convinced character actor Jesse Vint to don a mothballed uniform, came up with a make-shift script overnight, incorporating left-over footage of dog-fight effects from BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS and enthusiastically completed an incredible 94 set-ups in one day. With his trailer experience, Holzman then edited the footage into an action sequence which Corman adjudged so accomplished that he not only gave Holzman his chance to direct. A few months later, using a screenplay by Tim Curnen based loosely on a story by New World marketing whiz Jim Wynorski, Holzman went to work on FORBIDDEN WORLD, using the space battle as the film’s exciting pre-credit sequence. The film was shot on a break-neck 20-day schedule for under $1 million, and it displays every penny of its budget right up on the screen.

Tim Curnen’s screenplay of a constantly evolving mutant on the prowl in a remote scientific outpost on the planet Zarbia is from a story by New World publicist Jim Wynorski and R.J. Robertson. Both acknowledge ALIEN and THE THING as “inspiration.”

The project actually began about 3 years ago when the motion picture ALIEN was making so many bucks at the boxoffice. Jim Wynoroski was approached by a producer who wanted to make another picture just like ALIEN so Wynoroski & his friend Robertson cooked up a 10 page treatment that Wynoroski titled MUTANT.

“My first concern,” said Robertson, “was getting our plot as far away from ALIEN as possible while maintaining the elements which had made it popular in the first place.”

The essential elements, as Robertson saw it, were an isolated group of people who were being murdered by a particularly unappealing monster. Wynoroski & Robertson’s original story was set on a lunar base near the end of the century. A group of scientists are working on an experiment to speed up the evolutionary process with the ultimate goal of allowing humanity to function in alien environments without the need of life support systems. (This proved to be a good idea since in the movie the monster attaches itself to the base’s life support system at one point in the story. That way the humans couldn’t kill the monster without killing themselves.)

A beautiful view of the model showing the outside of the research station.

One of the experimental subjects, a laboratory mouse, succeeds in adapting to various atmospheres. A little too successful for after the little critter consumes all of the other test animals in the lab it not only is able to absorb the minds & memories of its victims but also takes on whatever physical characteristics it needs to survive. After eating a cat the mouse can see in the dark. After digesting a dog it has acquired a keen sense of smell. A monkey gives it agility. The scientists are unable to capture the thing and eventually it consumes one of the technicians. From that point on, the remaining scientists battle the creature for control of the lunar base & their lives.

Unfortunately, the producer who asked for the treatment lost interest in the project, “You get used to that sort of thing.” Robertson said with a wry grin. “I guess producers work on the assumption that you’re so grateful to get a chance to break into the motion picture industry that you’ll put up with treatment that you’d never accept in any other line of endeavor.” So MUTANT met a quick death, or so Robertson & Wynoroski thought.

Building the cocoon for the Mutant in FORBIDDEN WORLD (1982

Two years later Roger Corman, president of New World Pictures, was looking around for another outer space type movie. Jim Wynoroski in the meantime has become the advertising director for New World Pictures. So he dusts off the old MUTANT treatment and hands it to Corman, who appreciates the commercial potential. Another writer was brought in to finish a script.

When Robertson saw the completed motion picture at a sneak preview he was surprised that the ending of the film was neither the one from the original treatment nor the clever ending of the screenplay in which the creature was treated like a bacteria, was given an injection of penicillin and blew up & burst like a balloon. It was completely different and we won’t spoil anything by revealing it here.

The film is now about a group of scientists working on developing a new source of synthetic food on an outpost on planet Xarbia. One of the scientists decides to try a little experiment of his own. He takes a new type of protein that grows wild on the planet and splices it together with human sperm which he then injects into a female volunteer who must have also short-circuited for a few minutes. They don’t have long to wait for the results. In 2 weeks the offspring is born. It immediately kills its mother and then goes into hiding inside a cocoon. Everyone concludes that since the new life form is inside a shell, it is therefore harmless. It is quite obvious that these scientists are completely ignorant of sci-fi literature or motion pictures for no sooner have they ceased to concern themselves with the creature than it emerges from its shell, stronger & more deadly than before. One by one the scientists fall prey to the clever creature.

Draft of the 2nd stage of the MUTANT monster by Jim Shaw

BEHIND THE SCENES

Most of FORBIDDEN WORLD’s live-action filming was done right at the Venice Studio, which meant that as the camera was rolling on one setup, another area of the stage was being struck, repainted and or redressed. Hammering stopped only long enough for rehearsals and takes. Actors and technical crew had to be careful where they stepped and leaned during production-many of the sets still had wet paint even as they were being filmed. Administration offices, hallways and various lab areas were pressed into service. A corrugated metal storage shelter served as a not-so-soundproof soundstage; an entire wall of New World’s main building was dressed and painted to provide a massive two-story space station exterior as a backdrop for one of the mutant’s killings, and a nearby vacant lot was converted into a sandy alien desert.

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The sets for FORBIDDEN WORLD incorporate a lot of ordinary components in unusual ways. A standing joke during production, as volunteers went to pick up fast-food, was the effects men saying, “See if you can grab an extra handful of food trays!” A few thousand trays from McDonald’s can look impressive when spray painted and strapped to walls, augmented by such “high-tech” bricabrac as PVC piping, sheets of plastic “packing bubbles,” cut and formed upholstery foam, and cannibalized radio and TV parts.

In FORBIDDEN WORLD, you were the pilot of the first spaceship constructed entirely out of Big Mac containers and egg cartons.

Vint: Oh yeah. I was pretty amazed when I walked through that set. “These are egg cartons!” They said. “Yup. that’s what they are.”as they were tacking them to the wall and spray-painting them silver. And whenever we turned a comer and went through another portion of the ship, we just walked down the hall again and all the egg cartons would be spray-painted gold. – Jesse Vint

  SPECIAL EFFECTS

FORBIDDEN WORLD’s special effects are provided by a talented in house” effects team supervised by Bill Conway and headed by Bob and Dennis Skotak. Effects newcomer Steve Neill was given less than five weeks to come up with four major, fully operational embodiments of the evolving, rampaging life form. Neill and his constantly growing staff (which came to include Michael F. Hoover, Rick Lazzarini, Michael LaValley, Mark Shostrom, Anthony Showe and Gene Barsamian) found themselves saddled with some unworkable concepts from a previous production designer. Subsequently they agonized over several major changes from upstairs” with no easing of deadlines.

Though Neill’s delivered fourth stage design failed to operate properly, it was filmed anyway, over his objections. Since the “monster” proved so difficult to wrangle, it was decided to go heavy on the monster’s wrath. John Carl Buechler, was tapped to whip up some “death scenes” for assorted crew members.

The design and execution of the carnage fell to Buechler and a hastily assembled staff, including Stephan Czerkas, Chris Biggs and Don Olivera (who also played, in his own home-made robot suit, SAM-104, the hero’s robot sidekick). The on-screen result is a series of escalating Mutant murders, the style of which Buechler sardonically calls punk rock horror.”

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POST PRODUCTION

When the hectic shoot was wrapped, Holzman locked himself into the editing room and fashioned a quick first cut. It soon became apparent that, in his time-pressed decision to “Do it anyway” on some of the Mutant effects, Holzman had shorted himself on footage of his title-star. An urgent call went out to Buechler to come back and re-do some of the third-stage Mutant work, of which there was critically insufficient footage. Within a week, Buechler delivered a Mutant head which blinked, snarled and opened wide its ravenous jaws.

Then, it was back to the editing room for Holzman, the place where many New World pictures are eventually saved. That just may be the reason Corman promotes his directors from the ranks of trailer editors. Preliminary word from insiders who have seen Holzman’s final cut of FORBIDDEN WORLD is that despite the production’s hurried pace and budget limitations, the film races.

REFERENCES and SOURCES

Shock Cinema 18 (2001)

Cinefantastique v12 n02

Famous Monsters 185

  Promotional and Advertising Material

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  Susan Justin on her “Forbidden World” Score

  Forbidden World AKA Mutant (1982) Complete Soundtrack Composed by Susan Justin

    Track listing

Theme From “Forbidden World” (02:35)

Titles (02:36)

Birth And Death (01:27)

Mourning (01:26)

Alone (03:24)

Steam Room (01:23)

Mutation (02:31)

Xarbia (02:29)

The Hole (02:43)

The Doctor Returns (01:27)

Laser Shower (01:16)

Communication (01:43)

The End (03:58)

End Title Theme From “Forbidden World” (02:13)

Total Duration: 00:31:11

  Credits

Jesse Vint as Mike Colby

Dawn Dunlap as Tracy Baxter

June Chadwick as Dr. Barbara Glaser

Linden Chiles as Dr. Gordon Hauser

Fox Harris as Dr. Cal Timbergen

Raymond Oliver as Brian Beale

Scott Paulin as Earl Richards

Michael Bowen as Jimmy Swift

Don Olivera as SAM-104

 Makeup Department

John Carl Buechler  …special makeup effects (as J.C. Buechler)

Sue Dolph     …       makeup artist

Karen Kubeck         …special makeup effects artist: assistant makeup artist

Susan Moray …       hair stylist

Steve Neill    …       prosthetic fabricator

Don Olivera   …       special makeup effects

Jim Shaw      …       prosthetic designer

Christopher Biggs …special makeup effects artist (uncredited)

Bart Mixon    …       special makeup effects artist (uncredited)

Mark Shostrom       …special makeup effects artist (uncredited)

                                                                Forbidden World (1982) a.k.a Mutant Retrospective SUMMARY In the distant future, at a genetic research station located on the remote desert planet of Xarbia, a research team has created an experimental lifeform they have designated "Subject 20".