All that bloodshed, crimson clover

[sweetmod]

Characters Involved: All characters in the game
When: The month of February
What: A failed garden project and an unusual affliction
Where: Voddisson Park and the rest of Sweet Acres
Open/Closed: Game event thus open to all

Month Year Experiment

Event Questions | Full Navigation Prompt One | Prompt Two Image Descriptors Left Image: Skeletal human torso and head covered in blood surrounded by roses against a black background. Right Image: Chalk white human back with golden crack painted through the middle. Fingers holding the back of the neck against a white background. Standard Introduction We recommend reading this section if you are a brand new player to get a better understanding of game events. If you're an old hat, you can feel free to skip this section! The majority of events are experiments created by Daisy. Daisy may drastically alter the setting of Sweet Acres or alter the physiology and psychology of characters to increase the stakes of an experiment. Even characters usually resistant to manipulation and persuasion will often feel heavily compelled to participate in events. We encourage players to have fun with this: does your character feel threatened and get involved out of fear? Do they get involved without thinking twice about it? Do they feel pain through their Daze if they try to stay away from an event? Do their powers glitch as a punishment for not being involved? Some events will have specific consequences for avoiding prompts, but for the most part, ya'll get to have whatever brand of fun you want to have! Characters can alleviate symptoms or escape situations more quickly or avoid them altogether with the use of their Grounding Item. Grounding Items should be used sparingly for the sake of maintaining the consistent mood of the overall game. All character experiences are technically recorded through the Daze. Characters are being observed by an unseen Audience at all times - but especially during experiments. You can incorporate this into your scenes as well! Throw in a laugh track or audible gasping or have your character feel as though they are being watched! You don't have to ever acknowledge the Audience, but it certainly adds to another layer of terror! Audience members may offer assistance or resistance during certain experiments. back to top ⤴

[ The Garden Project ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced altered state of mind, relaxation, possible vine porn if u really dream hard enough, drowning, living plants, carnivorous plants, hallucinations, life energy/water being rapidly removed, possible forced/rapid weight loss 🌼 Daisy attempts to create a proper garden in Voddisson Park and manipulates characters to visit and admire her creation. 🌼 Daisy still sucks at creating organic life and therefore the Garden Project fails spectacularly. The Garden Project becomes an extreme test of survival. 🌼 But first, the flowers make you feel a bit as though you are drunk or tripping. 🌼 If your character has plant manipulation abilities, they may be able to control some of the plants at a time, but not all and it will require more of their energy than usual. 🌼 By the end of the month, between characters working together to destroy the Garden Project along with Daisy's intervention, the Garden Project will be scorched from Sweet Acres. Best luck another time, Daisy! Toward the beginning of February, all characters will begin to feel greatly tempted to visit Voddisson Park at different intervals throughout the month. Even after they realize that Voddisson Park is probably the last place any sane person should want to visit. In your defense, the park is a sight to behold. Even as you approach, you will notice the air absolutely teeming with the sweet, succulent aroma of mixed florals: fresh freesia, jasmine, lilies, roses, and more. There are bottom notes of musk and amber, the air soaked with warm inviting notes of vanilla. While it should be too much, it's somehow a perfect blend no matter how sensitive your nose might normally be. It pulls you in, and like the scent, the flowers appear immaculate. They also don't seem to ascribe by the typical botany of our world. There are extraordinary trees of thick roses of every color, the blossoms the size of basketballs. Lilies grow several feet taller than the average person while walls of hydrangea seem to burst with buds. The flowers seem to put everyone in a giddy mood, giggly and nearly drunk on the aroma and presence of the flowers. You may start to feel drugged, the world floating around you, your body warm and relaxed. Some characters may be more impacted by this than others (per player discretion). This becomes a problem when the flowers begin to move on their own and your walk in the park suddenly becomes its own level of hell: Thick Vines creep along the ground, wrapping around your ankles and wrists, or even your waist before yanking you up toward the trees. You may just get thrashed around rather violently, or have some of your clothes torn and scuffed up, or you may just be crushed by the vines' abnormal strength. Vines can be destroyed with strong metal and/or fire and/or ice. Patches of Wet Mud are throughout the park, but you will want to avoid accidentally stepping in them. The moment you do, you will be suctioned downward, the mud clinging to you. The more you panic, the more you will sink. One must be entirely calm and then lean backward to get out of the mud pits. One can drown in these if they are not too careful. An effective means of combating mud is also ice. Red Roses seem especially popular in this park. Daisy must have seen that they were a popular plant on most earth-adjacent planets! Except she seemed to miss something about the flowers because these flowers bloom in the presence of those who have red blood pumping through their veins. You will be tempted to get close, but when you do, the blooms will spread open and reveal a voracious, fanged mouth. Roses will snatch anyone up, crunching effortlessly through clothes and bone. The roses seem to have insatiable appetites, feeding eagerly on prey, sometimes helped by the vines. The roses are surprisingly durable, seeming to repopulate like a hydra if you merely cut them down with blades. You will instead want to destroy them with fire or ice. Be careful! Once the roses get a taste for your blood, they will become even more ravenous. Poppies are in abundance and seem, at a glance, to be the most normal flowers that Daisy managed to create. But begin to walk among them and you'll find yourself collapsing to the ground, mentally confused. You will begin to hallucinate about things that make you happy, expressing these hallucinations to those around you. This might seem innocuous enough, but the poppies will eagerly be draining you of water and life energy to flourish around you. Your body will gradually begin to weaken, losing weight and seeming to shrivel up. Those with a very strong mental fortitude may be able to resist the poppy's spell and save those who are not so lucky. Poppies are easily destroyed - no different than destroying a regular flower. Dahlias sprout up here and there, and much like the poppies, they appear to be regular. However, if your body comes into contact with these things, you will find yourself filled with a strange intense urge to become violent whether it's against other people or toward the plants. The bloodlust will become nearly maddening, but you won't be content at merely killing things. You will want it to be slow and torturous. The only way to properly break this spell is for someone to shed your blood. Despite the many violent possibilities in the park, there are plenty of flowers to merely enjoy with a certain safety. Still, it won't take anyone long to realize that the more violent flowers are beginning to encroach and ruin the rest of the park. You won't have long until they go past the park and into the rest of the town. Daisy will be seen hacking away at the flowers now and again, and if you attempt to her approach her at this time, she will whip around to face you with a wide, strained eerie grin, her eyes a glaring white instead of their usual nearly infinite black. "What is it? Oh? The flowers?" she asks, "Gardening sure is hard work! Together we should be able to get this place cleared up!" Then she turns to stare up at the sky, her smile frozen, her entire body motionless. "What's that?" This time she isn't talking to you. "Of course. I won't-..." She stops, looking almost scared for a moment before she turns her attention back to you. "Sorry, Sweet Subject, but I have to go now. I'll come back later to help remove these pests. Good luck!" And just like that, she glitches out of existence. Not the most engaging conversation, but it does make one wonder... back to top ⤴

[ Not All You're Cracked Up to Be ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Body horror, manipulation of abilities, forced honesty, forced physical and mental weakening. 🌼 Characters who feel emotionally or physically vulnerable develop golden cracks all over their body. 🌼 These cracks weaken the character's physical body and drastically weaken any abilities. It will make them more prone to being honest about things that make them feel vulnerable. 🌼 Despite this, these characters cannot die from the cracks, but they may shatter while maintaining sentience/consciousness, and another character will have to put the pieces back together. It begins at the tips of your fingers. Your skin begins to harden into a chalky white color, spreading across your arms, and up into your shoulders. The effect creeps down your back and across the rest of your body, until even your eyes and hair are white, your tongue and insides just as white. You have become something of a breathing porcelain doll, your body delicate and light. The cause of the spread starts with feelings of vulnerability. The feeling like you may not be in control of your own life like you once thought you were. Like you believed before arriving in Sweet Acres. If your past was a mere fabrication, then what about everything else? What about who you are? The kind of person you are? The things you believe? Memories are one thing, but your personality is another. Has that been fabricated too? Or perhaps you do get caught up in the memories from your "fake" life. Perhaps you're fixated on things, things you can't change, things you can't go back and fix. Because you're here now, after all, so your mistakes have been left with open ends and your dreams in limbo. What does that mean for you now? The despair of it all is easy to sink into. The deeper you go, the more delicate your body becomes, until finally, the cracks begin to appear. At a glance, they are beautiful to behold. Rivers of gold shimmering against the white, spreading over your skin like scored veins. That is when you begin to feel as vulnerable as you appear. You feel like the slightest wrong movement could turn you to dust. But you can't die: you can only break. And when you do, you'll remain completely conscious. But you'll have to put yourself back together or get someone else to help you. Thankfully, this isn't too hard as it only requires you to physically push the pieces back together, but if your body is scattered to the wind...Well, you might just end up having to be patched up by Daisy. It isn't entirely hopeless. After all, don't forget that you're being watched by a live audience. And what does a live audience love more than the drama of people opening up to one another? During this state, you will be more inclined to be surprisingly honest with those who make you feel protected and understood, and if they show support toward your vulnerability, your body will toughen up and the gold will spread. Each person's journey is unique to what they need to feel confident in, but eventually, if someone manages to make you feel supported enough, you'll turn completely gold, impervious to any physical damage for at least a week. Then the gold will melt away from your body entirely, finally leaving you as you used to be in your normal flesh and blood, but you will feel renewed and better than ever. If you fail to feel comforted by anyone, your skin will begin to crumble away toward the end of the month, eventually exposing your old body, but you will feel extremely fatigued and a bit like you have the flu. back to top ⤴

Comments

[kobes]

[Maybe it's just that Koby immediately feels safer, not being on the ground anymore. It isn't just because it's Mihawk's arms he's in, though that definitely...plays a part. Mihawk's the most familiar person in this world, after all, something that they've both mused over more than once -- their connection, being from the same world and so on.

It's nice, feeling safe. It's new.

As is the sensation of being teased and not feeling immediately embarrassed or annoyed by it. Koby huffs out a laugh, forcing himself not to pick at his nails and instead reach out to grab onto Mihawk's coat instead. His fingers curl in tight, white-knuckled.] No, nothing like that. I don't think you could do that if you tried.

I just...keep thinking about everything I remember. From our world. How much of it was...so bad. And about how if...none of it was true...did I survive all of it for no reason? [Koby pauses, laughing wetly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes with the heel of one hand.] I guess that's also pointless. Worrying about it, if it wasn't real.

[swordlord]

(Making others feel safe was completely new to Mihawk. He usually did the exact opposite. His eyes cut down briefly when Koby grabs his coat, and he feels the slightest pang of pride because that was a far better gesture to see than one of Koby's more nervous tendencies. Since when had he come to recognize those gestures of anxiety? He quietly huffs, a non-laughing way of laughing.)

True. (He is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to literally anything he does. He falls silent and attentive as Koby begins to speak, and if he holds Koby a bit tighter as the waterworks begin, that's neither here nor there.)

It is not pointless. I often find myself thinking the same, but in the reverse. If I truly spent an entire lifetime only thinking I became the greatest swordman. The idea that that title was a mere fabrication given to me by someone else.

(There was an enormous amount of shame that threatened to engulf him anytime he thought about it too much.)

I believe it is good that you worry about that. We have put in the work to survive in our world and to have that effort written off as some silly little story...

(It felt miserable. He shifts Koby ever so slightly so that he can get their front door open. He brings Koby inside, quietly shutting the door behind him with his foot.)

For what it is worth...(He walks into the living room, then comes to a stop, looking down at Koby, his gaze calm and steady.)

I do not believe it was for no reason - whether the memories are fake or real. You are who you are because of them. We might not know what to believe in here, but I choose to believe in...you.

(Because. It felt like an anchor. He clears his throat and moves toward the couch.)

And us. We mustn't waiver on that. You and I are the only concrete things here. We know that this is real.

[kobes]

I'd just gotten started... [Koby inhales shakily, exhales on a sob, hating how emotional he's getting, not realizing that the gold threads spiderwebbing across his porcelain skin are slowly, steadily growing smaller. The unleashing of this heaviness that Koby's carried since arriving, somewhere beneath his ribs, threatening to strangle him every single night is...good. It's so good.

It makes it possible to breathe again, even through the tears. Glasses shoved up on top of his head, Koby blinks up at Mihawk with those huge, damp eyes, taking in every feature of his face. Almost fervently, tracing the familiar line of his jaw, his sharp brows, the scalloped beard he's somehow managed to maintain, even in this place. Koby doesn't really stop to consider when he'd taken the time to memorize Mihawk's face.] I can't imagine how much worse it is, for you. You'd already come so far, and done so much.

[The familiar surroundings have Koby's shoulders relaxing slightly, more of the gold sealing up as the door closes behind them. He thinks home, and it sends an almost painful surge of tenderness through him -- as do Mihawk's words. Koby wipes at his tear-streaked cheeks with his free hand, sniffling. It doesn't occur to him, not in this vulnerable, emotional spot, to lie, not when Mihawk's being so honest.

So:] I know you're real. Sometimes it's like -- you're the only thing keeping me sane. Isn't that strange?

[swordlord]

And you can continue. If I must, I can train you. (Normally, he wouldn't offer to such an amateur- hell. Koby wasn't even an amateur. At least not by Mihawk's standards, but if it helped alleviate some of Koby's worries in this place, then why not? Besides, it would help pass the days. He tells himself none of this has to do with wanting to help give Koby a reason to stop crying.

He notices the fractures minimizing and watches as Koby seems to come back to life with each tear.

Then Koby is looking at him with large, wet eyes and Mihawk feels a strange, foreign notch in the pit of his chest. He finds himself staring back, completely unflinching, coming to a stop yet again in the middle of their home. He could put Koby down. That was what he had planned to do all of five seconds ago, but suddenly, it's the last thing he wants to do. He exhales, finally blinking, and shakes his head.)

You have no need to worry about me. I'm closer to the end of my days than you are. This may as well be an annoying forced early retirement. (Mihawk was only middle-aged and not that old, but with his track record back home, he always felt significantly older than he was, and the years before him had seemed to stretch out endlessly.)

...It is upsetting in some ways. But in other ways, I feel empty about it. It wasn't as if there was much of interest back home. Everything felt a bit monotonous.

(He does wind up moving to the couch, but sits down and just...Holds Koby. Mostly because he felt like perhaps this honesty was helping. He also wasn't sure if Koby would still be delicate and he didn't want to risk breaking him by forcing him to rest on the couch. Mihawk felt his own body was just a more secure option. Or something.

A bit of surprise sparks in his eyes because, wait a second.)

You're...(What's even the word.)

Being rather compassionate toward me.

(No one did that??? On top of the honesty? Crying in his arms? ? ? ?

This place really was leading him down a path he had never imagined. Then Koby is telling him how mentally secure he felt, and well.)

I must admit...I do feel the same. (Strange? Probably. Bad? Definitely. Something he was willing to change? No. He looks away from Koby, staring across their room, what they have already made of it. An obvious contrast of their preferences and personalities throughout the living room, not much, but enough, and yet it felt cohesive and comfortable.)

I think perhaps...(A beat.) I have grown fond of you in some way. I recognize your footsteps and your breathing by now. (And because he can't be too soft!!! He adds on:)

I wonder if this must be how it feels for people when they become fond of a pet? (He smirks at Koby a little, maybe trying to make Koby smile or annoyed or something.)

[kobes]

You? Train me? [It gets a watery sort of laugh, and Koby rubbing at his eyes with the heel of one hand again. But at least it's a laugh, right?] Are you -- looking to punish yourself somehow?

You aren't that old. [Almost like Koby's reminding himself of that fact, even as he braces himself to be set down on the couch. But then -- Mihawk doesn't let go. Just sits there, Koby in his arms. It feels...well, it feels like a lot of things. Strange, a relief, a comfort. All of that.

If he wanted to, Koby knows he could move away, could turn to wiggle out of Mihawk's arms and onto the couch, without any resistance. For all that he could, there hasn't been a single instance of Mihawk forcing Koby to do anything. Maybe it's because he doesn't feel the need to? Or maybe he senses, on some level, how much has already been decided for Koby, how important the freedom is. Regardless, Koby knows implicitly that he could carefully move away from Mihawk, and there'd be no attempts to hold onto him.

But he doesn't move.

He keeps looking upwards, watches the shift of Mihawk's face, the subtle movement of his jaw, his eyebrows, the way his mouth forms each word. Koby watches like he's transfixed, thinks wildly, absurdly, of reaching out and touching Mihawk's mouth. Just once. He doesn't, of course, just swallows hard and finally lets the words register.] You pay attention to that sort of thing? My -- footsteps? The way I sound? Do you do that for everyone?

[The smirk and the comment get a dramatic eyeroll, and Koby elbowing at Mihawk's chest, completely ineffectively.] I've had enough of being a pet, thanks. [Mission accomplished?]

[swordlord]

(Okay, well. That's just unfairly charming. Mihawk flashes a quick, but sincere grin. A rare expression. The idea is kind of absurd.) I'm trying to be...oh, what's the word? ...Kind, is it?

That is the only sane reply one could make about someone's age. (Let's be real. He relaxes his hold somewhat, and part of him expects Koby to move away from him as well. It would only make sense. It's not like they spent their together huddled up like this. It was an exception, Mihawk told himself. One of comfort and necessity with whatever was going on with Koby's body. It would be an embarrassment if he failed to keep Koby from dying just because he refused to keep the cadet close when he needed it. If he even needed it.

Koby's right. Mihawk had no interest in controlling Koby or telling him what to do, and he hasn't since they arrived. Whatever choices Koby made, he encouraged. He was far from a pirate like Alvida (ahem, ex-pirate. Technically.)

The question gets a thoughtful, short hum from Mihawk.)

Frankly, I don't spend much time around anyone enough to bother memorizing that sort of thing. I do know the steps of people I have worked with or fought.

(But this wasn't either of that.)

Careful, darling, we don't want you to shatter. (Another tease because he's pretty sure that Koby is getting better. He looks better.)

Yet you would make such a cute kitten. Or perhaps puppy.

[kobes]

Oh. [Koby blinks a few times, taking this in -- because even though it's clearly not something Mihawk does often, he is being genuinely kind. Which means he was genuinely worried. Which means -- what? What does genuine emotion from a warlord of the seas, the greatest swordsman alive actually mean? Again, Koby knows in his soul it won't mean anything he doesn't agree to -- Mihawk might tease and annoy and exasperate Koby like nobody else can, but he'd never force something against the younger man's will. Ever.

So does that mean Koby will need to sort out what exactly this specific emotion -- attachment, affection, whatever it is thrumming in his chest right now -- and do something about it first? Maybe. Probably. It's all too much for him right now. Crying makes him tired, makes him lean against Mihawk's chest and exhale slowly, wiping the last of the tears away.] Then...thank you. For being kind.

We haven't worked or fought together. [Aside from whatever you'd call the gentle, mildly exasperating bickering the two engage in on the daily -- nothing serious, just "why do you put all the good cups up so high, you know I'm short, you do it on purpose" sort of things.] So...is it just proximity?

[Koby tries to scowl upwards, but because of the angle, it comes off not at all intimidating whatsoever.] I'd be a full-grown animal thank you very much. Just because you're enormously tall wouldn't make me a kitten.