torine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
torine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2018-08-14 07:37 pm
torine) wrote in bakerstreet2018-08-14 07:37 pm
Entry tags:
Treehouse Meme
Your character is now the owner of a bitchin' treehouse! Give a quick description and/or a link to an image of what it's like. How many people can it hold? Does it just have the bare necessities, or is it decked out in enough gadgets to make Tony Stark proud? Invite your friends, or visit others. Feel free to age down characters for kid shenanigans.
Need a scenario?
PARTY!: You're throwing a wild party in your brand-new treehouse. Anything from a pizza party to a wild kegger.
SECRET CLUB!: You're having a secret meeting, and it's invitation only. You need to know the password to get in. No Homers Allowed. What sort of club is it? Or maybe you want to break in on someone else's meeting. It's not fair that they won't let you in!
INVASION!: Another treehouse group is plotting a takeover! You better defend yourselves, or get ready to take over that lousy club next door.
SLEEPOVER! Get into your sleeping bag, gather 'round a lantern to swap scary stories. Or maybe you want to cuddle up to that special someone on a cool fall night.
BUILDING! Your treehouse is still a work in progress. What are you adding to it? Maybe someone can come along to hinder help get it ready.
ALONE TIME! You're hiding in your treehouse, minding your own business and totally not reading dirty magazines, when someone crashes in on your fun.
WILDCARD! Whatever else you can think of!
MAH FEELS
The way the boy (little more then a little boy!) asks. Are you the tree? Are you a ghost?
Do you need help to find peace?
Humanity. Strange. Too much. It's too much. Kill him. Vines around his throat, drag him down, he is of the red. He is a terrible red thing-
The leaves shake left and right. The flowers grow down the wall and he stops.
Would he have been a good father? Linda wanted children. He promised himself that when he'd finished - he was so damn close after all - brilliant. They'd try.
He is standing on the platform, hands spread wide, holding a Noble prize in his hands, "But seriously folks, I couldn't have done any of this without the support of my wife Linda, Lin, hon, come on up here-please-"
She is on stage, pregnant and demure. He puts a protective hand on her, "The world we've made isn't just safe for our child, but for all children. No child will go hungry again!-"
Foolish.
Something begins to grow in the dark, twisting roots. It ties itself together. The floorboards creak under it's weight but it keeps to the shadows at the far end of the room.
This is a stupid idea Alec. Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Before he can stop himself however there is a large shadowy lump in the corner trying to hide before...it speaks.]
I...am...the tree.
[He hates his voice. It sounds like branches rubbing together, like the earth grinding rocks over thousands of years.]
...Don't...be scared. I won't...hurt you. I...promise.
fell asleep but I'm loving this!
[ He's a little scared, because he doesn't know what's happening, he's unsure who or what this is, but he wants that to be true. He's going to make it true. A moment later, he says something a little more honest. ]
I didn't think you were going to hurt me.
[ He keeps his distance, mostly because isn't sure if the being he's talking to wants him close, would be okay with being touched. But he'll watch and he'll listen, see how the shadowy lump comes into the light.
He likes his voice. It's... elemental. Made of so many different pieces. It's interesting, and even as he listens to the words, he's trying to figure out what each one is. It's like an orchestra made of a bunch of different sounds, all played together. He's so used to hearing them all discordantly, all working at their own ends and their own songs, but having them all work towards a single voice, words...
It's special.
He ventures a little closer, then decides he'll settle on the ground, legs crossed, and make it clear that he wants to be friends but he's not going to push. He knows when his senses are going haywire he doesn't want anyone getting near, after all.]
My name is Clark. I've never met a tree before. Like... this, I mean.
hope you're still willing to continue!
You're a...brave little boy, Clark.
[A few flowers pop out of the wood floor.]
...What brings you here?
absotutely! I'm loving this
I wanted to find out what was happening here.
[ How does he explain? ]
Because people told stories about strange stuff around here and I'm kind of... different. So I wanted to find out if someone like me was here.
SQUEE
Dare he? Dare he try? The trees know things, he's learning that now. The wood floorboards creak. One big hand presses into the wood, the wood he grew and he closes his eyes.
Different. he's different. How can I help him? He wants to help me. He's a child. A little boy. No little kid should...go looking for different things..
He makes a noise that sounds almost like a rumbling growl, like a tree shifting in the wind.]
...There is only...one story I have heard. Which...story do you know?
[How the swamp seems to have a life of it's own now? Or the story of a naive man who wanted to make the world a better place and died in a terrible explosion?
Tell me. Kindness like this deserves to be rewarded. What can I do for him?
He is a child. Be there for him. Listen to him. He is special. He is not of the green. Or the red. He is of...a different red.
The big thing in the shadows sits.]
...I will tell you. The one I've heard.
There was a man. He...was naive. He loved nature and the planet very much. He wanted...to bring people to nature. To help them. To help starving people. There was an accident. He...died. The swamp brought back his spirit. And now he...haunts the swamp. Protecting it. And those...worthy of his protection. Like...kind little boys.
[Creepy Alec. very creepy.]
no subject
I just read a bunch of stories of strange things happening here. Some people... [ he pauses, because he knows what he read, but he doesn't want to say it so rudely; calling him a 'monster' is the worst thing he could do, especially since that isn't what he'd call his new friend ] I think some people saw you and they didn't know what you were. Or they saw the plants acting funny.
[ He can't help a little smile at that. ]
My Ma says I'm like a little plant too, the way I like the sun. It makes me feel better, wakes me up when I'm tired. Sometimes, if I get enough sun out in the fields, I don't even get hungry.
[ But the rest of the story needs answering, because no matter what he might think, Clark is a kind boy. And he does want to help. ]
Are you still trying to help starving people, sir? And... nature? [ He glances at the flowers ] The plants? [ There's a lopsided smile there, still a little bashful, though he's getting his feet under him, metaphorically speaking ] My Pa says Kents've been feeding folk for twelve generations, after all. And we know growing. Maybe I can help.
[ That's what spirits need, isn't it? To finish the work they were doing, to complete whatever was driving them? And feeding people and helping the environment, those are good goals, the kind of stuff his parents both'd be behind. Maybe that's how he can help people without everyone knowing he's different. ]
no subject
When the boy mentions farming he smiles in the dark. His teeth are rotted wood and they don't show before he pads out of the darkness.
He can't help you. Show yourself. Run. Run little boy. Get used to it. I can't. I want him to help, I want to be around human beings...
The thing crouching in the darkness that emerges is huge. Apelike in appearance. Massive green muscles and creepers and a vague smell of compost and earth. The being is made of muck.
He stares at him, blood red eyes focused on him for a long time.]
I don't...frighten you?
[...There is a way he could help. It's small, but this good boy, this son of the green who isn't of the green...]
There may be...a way you could help me.
no subject
Well, he'd be a pretty big hypocrite, the sort his mother always railed against, if he decided that he ought to be scared because someone's different than most of what he knows. His mother'd looked at a baby in a pod from the stars and scooped him up to take home, love, and make her own. That was how he'd been raised. It shows here, as he certainly has to look up a little from where he is, but he's not really afraid.
Instead, his heart goes out, because it's just as clear that this man-tree-spirit-whoever-he-was doesn't want folks afraid of him for nothing but what he is any more than Clark does.
So, he shakes his head.]
No, sir. Don't see why I should be.
[ He glances over at the flower and no, it might not be the prettiest one in the world, but it's still pretty. His nose is good enough to pick out the scent of it even in the swamp, even with all the green around. That's a part of his new friend too, isn't it? ]
What do you need me to do?
no subject
I know how this works. Even if this kid is a...Even if he can get this to somebody who would know what to do with it...
The thing's brow furrows but he turns with the notebook in hand, leaving a smear of slime across it before coming back to the boy.]
...These. Are my...notes. For my...formula.
[The thing pauses before sitting across from him. It's holding onto the book like a lifeline for a moment, then another moment, before it hands the book to the boy.]
...Crops. Help world hunger. Not everyone...can grow...for generations.
[The thing smiles.] ...Take this. Alec Holland's life's work. Send it...anywhere. A scientist. You're smart. Find someone...who will use it for good.
[The thing's eyes go wide.
Avatar! Avatar! There are humans coming! Men! Men with guns!
Thank god for the grass. Alec looks up sharply, ignoring the boy for a moment. Standing up, the swamp thing peers out the window and looks to the boy.
Why not Alec? Why the fuck not? How many times have you hid from them? This kid doesn't think you're a monster. Kids may be kids but-you can get this. This...
There's the sound of crunching leaves outside and Alec's hands clench.]
I must...leave you for a moment.
stay here. Do not leave yet.
...Please.
[Or peer out the window and watch him beat the stuffing out of three men with guns. It's impressive. The big green thing roars, appears out of nowhere, yells at them to go away before throwing punches, hitting things, and at the end raising a giant root out of the ground to drag the man away.
When he's done however he'll just turn away and feel the deep sense of shame that his life has become.]
no subject
He winces, more than a little, but when the fighting starts, he keeps the notebook close against him as he goes tearing for the steps, not running away from the men or the tree man but towards them. ]
Stop! STOP! Stop hurting him!
[ ...okay, the tree man is hitting them, but they're shooting him. Big difference, and they clearly came ready to shoot him. Everyone's ignoring him, but he's going to keep shouting to try and get the men to stop attacking until he gets annoyed and a couple of their guns drop, barrels red hot, from their fingers.
He runs over to the tree man to look him over, make sure he's all right, make sure none of the bullets hurt him. But he does lick his lips a little, his fingers tight on the notebook. He assumes that the men are being escorted out of the swamp, forcibly, and hopefully they'll stay out. But- ]
Are you okay?
no subject
Alec groans and rolls away slightly. His hand roots - big green fingers digging deep into the dark rich earth for a moment, and then another before he lets out a gasp. There's a faint green mist, the whole place looks green...before he turns back to the boy.]
You...You're all right...
[pause. He doesn't see his notes for one brief moment, but it doesn't matter. He quells the horror in his voice. The child first. Not the green.
I chose, it's a kid. He's just a boy.]
...My notes...upstairs? Safe...?
no subject
I wouldn't let anything happen to them. [ They were important, after all. ] I'm going to look through the whole book first thing so nothing can get lost.
[ He has, after all, a perfect memory. If needed, once he'd read through them, he could reproduce the whole thing at any time. ]
I'm okay, though. There's... not much that can hurt me, honestly. S'one of the ways I'm different.
[ He glances over to where the men had disappeared. ]
Do they come and attack you a lot?
no subject
[He points at the book.]
...They are looking for...that.
[The big creature's brow furrows for a moment. He roots his hands again, almost a carved statue of a wooden green creature, a muck monster.]
...I may...I may be able to help you. To show...you something. I think. I've...I've only done this once before with...with someone. To help you feel more...grounded. More rooted. If that is what you want.
[He looks sincere.]
It...may frighten you. I think though that...it will show you...great things.
And you do not frighten easy.
no subject
Like he's alone in everywhere.
After a moment, he proves the tree man's words: he doesn't frighten easy. Which is why he nods. ]
Okay. But... maybe we should go back to the treehouse. So we can keep the notebook safe while we're doing, er, whatever it is.
[ He feels like it needs saying, though, which is why he looks up at the tree man. ]
I trust you.
no subject
[If I can. I only did this with Abby and that was- personal? In a way that has to be different from that. That grove of trees...
The parliament Alec Holland. This sense of being alone? You are never alone. Your parliament is with you and this boy is of interest to us...
We will help you...we are with you.
His grip tightens slightly as he leads him back to the tree house.]
The green...wants to meet you.
[In moments like these he's not Alec Holland. Scientist who'd kill time at the movies, eating popcorn before flirting with Linda and the cashier. He's not even the swamp thing.
One day he'll be able to deliver these messages at his own pace, have a deep understanding of the green. For now he is in the grip of something older. A voice of the planet itself.
Once they're upstairs he sits, crosslegged, and holds out his hands.]
Give me your hands, Clark Kent of Kansas. No harm will come to you.
no subject
He puts the notebook back where it'd been taken from, where he'll take it from again when they're done. Then he walks over to where the tree man is sitting and reaches out for his hands. ]
Don't worry. I'm not scared.
[ But, just before he touches- ]
Afterwards, can you tell me your name?
no subject
He struggles, floundering - he wants to say yes now but when he opens his eyes they glow.]
He will. He is our avatar, Clark Kent of Smallville Kansas. The corn speaks of your kindness. It tells us stories. Stories of a boy of a different green and a different red. There is no fear here.
[Alec wants to shout yes there is. because it's the green and the deeper he goes, the longer he is this, the more he suspects there are terrible things swimming in it. That it's hunger for survival. He makes a private vow that he will save this child, rip it all down if he must, if the green tries to take him, to make him like him, to-
The moment Clark touches the swamp thing's hands however he'll be somewhere else, somewhere within himself, a swimming swirling vortex of glowing green energy and stars.
Few people have been here before. One, Abigail Arcane, is not here now but she has touched this place. And another...
The forest grove shifts. It wavers. It dissolves and melts...into a corn field. The place is vibrant, filled with life, glowing gold and green.]
...clark...clark...clark...
[Go forward? Go back? Your choice.]
no subject
Whatever this is, whatever his new friend is doing for him, he's not afraid of him or of what might come. His friend said he was a protector, and he believes him with the strength of the child he still very much is. Clark believes that the tree man will take care of him, saw it somewhat when the men came with guns.
He's a little worried about them, about those men, hopes someone comes to help them since they're probably knocked out at the very least. He makes a little note to make sure to call someone or check on them when he heads home.
But once they touch, once he's pulled in, everything is different. He's here, in the corn, like he's at home, and everything is golden and bright. He lets his face tilt up to the warm and the gold, lets the tips of the grasses and the corn plants move against his fingertips, against his arms, feels the solid ground beneath his feet. This is the farthest thing from 'scared' he can be. This feels like home.
When he hears his name, that's when he opens his eyes and starts looking around to see where it's coming from. He won't even hesitate- he goes forward to follow it. ]
no subject
Healthy, relatively mature.
[the man pauses.]
Hmm. Maybe not. I'd tell your dad to rotate out the north field in another half a year if he doesn't want an aphid problem unless...
[He digs his hands into the soil and gestures for Clark to copy him.]
Here. Feel the roots. Feel how shallow they are? You can't be shallow. You're like the corn. Strong. Nurturing. You can help a lot of people but you've got to put down roots and be willing to do so.
[The man pauses.]
Corn is native to American soil. You know where it's not native? Europe. The word Maize is Spanish, but it comes from the indigenous Taino word for plant. Mahiz. The Mahiz went to Europe but it's never ...really grown well.
You're like corn in Europe. The soil will reject you. Don't let it do that.
no subject
I'll tell him. About the field.
[ Things can get a little hand-to-mouth on the farm sometimes; they might not have the kind of medical bills that a boy his age could produce, but they made up for it with accidental fires and breakages and all the rest of the nonsense they had to deal with because of him. If he can help that, that's good too.
But then he's listening, watching the man at first before carefully kneeling down himself to put his hands in the ground. He puts his fingers into the ground, pushes them in a little, gets them deeper like he figures the man is telling him to. When he talks about 'corn' in Europe, he ducks his head a little and nods. ]
It's cause I'm not from here, right? Not from this world. That's what my Pa told me.
[ He looks over at the man. ]
Don't 'let' it? How do I stop it from doing that?
no subject
[The man grins.]
Human beings aren't plants. ...Beings aren't plants. The planet is willing to trust you, but other human beings might not be.
[he sighs.] I know a little bit about that.
People are afraid of things that are different. That's just human nature, but there are webs of life that connect all of us together here...and beyond.
[There is something unnatural about this place. The world spins and moonlit night begins to filter into the sky. The man raises his hands.]
...You don't have to follow the path of those who came before you out there - or those who came before you here as long as you know who you are. Corn can move halfway across the ocean but it grows the best in strong soil with people who take care of it.
Like your mom and dad.
[He smiles. Clark might hear a familiar voice - one of his parents calling him in - but it vanishes and the other man looks seriously.]
Your parents are cultivating strong soil for you, and it's your job to grow strong and put down strong roots. A good strong wind can pull out any good crop - any farmer knows that. You have to be stronger then that and humanity isn't going to make it easy for you.
[The man pauses - struggling - before he kneels before the boy.]
Have faith in the people who are around you. You're a good kid. I'm not gonna tell you not to seek your past, your history.
I am going to tell you that once you find it...You get to decide if you want to grow strong here, or if you want to be blown away by the wind.
[He struggles before sitting back in the dirt, just like he did, heedless of the soil on his khakis.]
When you decide that, know to have faith in the soil and in your family. In the place where you come from. Plants have been uprooted and carried places for thousands of years and we didn't-
[pause. He frowns. he's not a plant. he's a man. A man who is a plant.
Sometimes.]
...Life on earth grew up in a wild way, struggling to survive. It's going to test you in ways that will hurt but just remember that in the end...this is good earth. And it's behind you.
[There's a whistle through the corn, wind, wind that sounds like voices - some protesting.
The man sitting on the ground raises a hand and the grass goes completely still. Frozen in place.]
It's behind you.
...Try to remember that.
...I died of heartclench and would like to reiterate I love this
He's heard some of it before, about how people are afraid. He knows that better than most, knows the sting of it from experience. He's seen how kids look at him on the bus, how some of them prod and others of them cower, knowing there's something off about him, that not everything adds up to anything normal. He knows. And he's heard his father's warnings, his father's fears.
He hears it when his parents talk to him about it, but he also hears it when they're curled up in their bedroom, talking to each other. Their fears, their worries, their concern over their boy and all they know about him and the world and how his back might be able to able to bear a thresher at full bore but not, perhaps, the alienation of never belonging.
But this man, this place, the soil under his hands... they can tell him something that his parents could only hint. Namely that the world itself accepted him. That the planet that he'd come to, it's behind him. It's supporting him, the same as it supports anyone born here. That the earth is Good.
He swallows, hard, and lets his fingers clench in the soil, unconsciously aerating it, and a moment later, he waters it with a couple tears. To hear that he can, that things might be hard, that things might hurt, but that ultimately, he belongs here. His family, his soil. That his roots are welcome, even if it might be hard... that as long as he has those roots in, he can flourish here-
He doesn't have words to say anything back. It all just... it means so much, to hear it from someone he just met, someone or something that feels like it can reach right in and run over his soul with delicate vines. Instead, he nods and swallows a few more times before- ]
I'll try.
[ It's the best he can offer. ]
T-thank you.
I need them to meet as adults now. Or as adult and plant...god.
Take care of my notes kid. They're all I have.
[If Sunderland's men come back he'll know they're gone. They don't even have to be safe. Even if they just rest on this kid's shelf for the rest of his life or he burns them, they're not in the swamp.
They won't get it.
Linda didn't die for nothing. Abby didn't leave for nothing.
(He hides the hope that she'll come back.)]
They're Alec Holland's legacy Clark Kent -
[He pauses] My legacy.
[Mine. Mine. It's mine. I'm me. I'm not the earth. I'm a man. I'm not a plant. I'm a man. I'mamanI'mamanI'maman]
Cause that's me. Alec Holland.
You're a pretty super kid. You ready to go back? We'll take the scenic route.
definitely. DEEEEFINITELY.
I'll take care of them, Mr. Holland. And I'll make sure they get the chance to help people. I promise.
[ He means it. That's as clear as day in this place, clear on his face as well. He won't let something that could help people languish unused. He won't let Mr. Holland's legacy be forgotten. He won't let Mr. Holland be forgotten either. ]
I think I'm ready to go though. If you don't mind.
IF YOU FIND A MEME
There! The Amazon basin as trees watch with skeptical eyes. And there! Yellowstone Park. And there! Wide mashlands, vast deserts. The green is all things and alec takes it all in as he has since he figured out he could do this.
There's a bright, warm, green gold light...and the boy is back.
Not just back but back. In front of his dwelling, maybe a bit muddy, but the big green man is gone, the only trace of him a few footprints leading back into the swamp- and the book the boy has in his jacket.]
hmmm, don't see anything. could set up a post if you like?
Let's do it!
(no subject)