#but that is MUCH harder than simply farming the best crops

[silent-partner-412]

it’s been long enough since i finished my 1.6 playthrough and i gotta say i think my biggest disappointment with it is that wine is still by far the quickest and easiest way to make a ton of money. even with the bigger emphasis on ranching with the new farm, the additions to fishing, the new machines, etc, i still ended up using starfruit wine and eventually ancient fruit wine to reach perfection in my playthrough back in march. it’s a huge shame; some of the new methods of money making are absolutely nothing to sneeze at, but i still think it would be great to have more routes to a relatively efficient perfection that isn’t just wine of the best crops.

[tragedy-of-commons]

a deciduous thing.

scarecrow!boothill x gn!farmer!reader.

summary: Never in your life did you think that your peaceful day-to-day would grind to a halt after one of your scarecrows comes to life. Apparently, his name is Boothill, and he's insistent on making your life 10x harder than it has to be.

contains: modern au, comedy/crack with surreal elements, setting is heavily implied to be american (sorry), reader has depth, possibly inaccurate depictions of farming but i tried my best, country and southern things™, autumn hijinks

word count: 4.5k

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper, @wystiix, @mikashisus, @tetrachrxmacy, @mitsvriii, @akutasoda

notes: written for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest. my chosen prompt was scarecrow! ao3 link here 🎃

The first time you see him, it’s a crisp October morning.

Thank the stars it’s overcast today - the fall weather is just settling in, so of course it’s still hot, but nothing like the suffocating humidity you’re normally used to. Besides that, work is work; meaning that you have to get up just before dawn to go about putting a dent in your endless list of chores. 

The pleasant breeze tickles your nose and the forearms flexed under your rolled up sleeves, aiding you in your endeavor of feeding and tending to the livestock. The hens cluck passively as they allow you to take their eggs inside, the cows and goats don’t fuss at all when you milk them, and to your surprise, baths also go well (despite how you’re covered in suds after). To have such an easy morning is rare, but you simply chalk it up to the arrival of autumn. 

Ma used to say that fall is lucky, as it signals the start of renewal. You aren’t superstitious by any means, but the sentiment has always stuck with you, engraved in fond memories of stumbling around on your chubby legs through rows of sweet potatoes and watching the colorful leaves hit the ground, balanced on some distant relative’s hip. 

Yes, today is gonna be lucky.

The sun hasn’t yet reached the middle of the sky when you drag yourself to the pumpkin patch. Normally you’d wait another day or two until the weather is sunny to harvest the rotund globes of orange, but you’re already cutting it close; Halloween is gonna be here before you know it, and you don’t want the fruit to overripen or become too bleached by the elements. Moreover, you’d like to give away a pumpkin or two to the neighbors.

Every year, it’s the same tradition. Miss Kafka and little (not so much anymore) Silver Wolf down the road have been your only companions since the farm became your sole responsibility. When the season for ghouls and ghosts is upon your little rural town, you help them hoist up gaudy decorations to show off on their lawn, politely shoving a pumpkin or three into their arms, your own addition to their festive display.

According to them, often over sheets of newspaper as you three carve crude jack-o-lanterns with switchblades, your crops can’t be beat. Not by any chain market or grocery store standards, anyhow. You take pride in that; Pa always made you promise him to never overuse pesticides or sacrifice quality by automating the harvesting process - which you honor - even if you sometimes daydream about combine-harvesters and a few other dozen gadgets to make your life easier.

The patch in question is still green and healthy, boasting vibrant fruit by the dozen. The white and orange pumpkins mesh together in a patchwork display of sunset and beige, thick vines acting as their binding agent. You’ve grown fond of the sight, despite the monotony of almost-but-not-quite tripping over each crop bigger than your leather boots. Wiping the minimal sweat from your brow, you bump open the wooden gate with your hip, glove-clad and toting around your giant pruners.

They’re a bit on the heavier side, but you found them on the side of the road for free, fixing the rust issue with a bit of vinegar and baking soda - there’s no way you’re not gonna get your use out of them. Ambling over to the first row of pumpkins, you squat down, feeling the dirt and grass cushion your knees.

The first few you inspect still look pretty good. Firm rind, no blemishes or rot, plump and tough. You decide that those’ll be the ones you give away - they’ll make fine jack-o-lanterns, having plenty of surface area to plunge a knife across, creating spooky faces that’ll scare any miscreant egg-throwing hooligans away. Well, that’s your take on things. Maybe you’re just getting too old for mischief.

The next row is even more promising, housing the largest pumpkin you’ve ever seen. You’ve been monitoring its growth for the past few weeks, sure, but it seems to have bloated overnight - to the size of two human heads! You’re still skeptical, though. If a pumpkin gets this big, this fast, there’s more room for parasites, and it could also hint at some internal mushiness that’ll make it decompose quicker. 

But here’s where your ace comes into play: the test.

You ball your hand up into a fist, knocking on the big boy with just enough force. To your surprise (and subdued delight), the resounding noise is hollow - you’d almost describe it as baritone. Even better, it withstood the force with a firmness indicating that of a healthy pumpkin! Today really is lucky, you muse, readying your pruners.

Wrestling yourself over the row, knees on either side of your pumpkin of choice, careful not to damage the fruit - you eyeball about five or six inches of stem, beginning to hack away at the vine diligently. It doesn’t take long before you free the product of your labor from its brethren, victorious.

…it’s, uh, heavier than you anticipated. Lifting it up into your arms immediately, you grunt, quickly discarding your glorified scissors onto the ground for stability. At least these days you don’t make the mistake of picking up the fruit by the stem, as tempting as that is - you learned the hard way as a tween when the patch was a new feature, your first home-grown pumpkin breaking under your mistake of yanking it up so carelessly. Ma had laughed right in your face, the traitor.

You stand there for a moment, straining, electing on what to do next. You could check on the rest of the patch after you get this big boy inside. You don’t want it to spoil too quickly off the vine. After a moment, you reckon that storing it in the drier part of your pantry, perfectly mild and unheated, should do the trick. Yeah, that’ll work just fine until you can take the time to carve your one obligatory jack-o-lantern out of this behemoth.

Alright, it’s settled. You pivot on your heel, ready to make the arduous trek back the house--

And that’s when you hear it.

Your reaction is delayed as you process what you’re hearing. It sounds like distant cursing or something close to it - a coarse voice shouting in rage. It reminds you of those aggravated drunkards that populate the only shitty bar in town, always riled up over some game of football or some argument with the Missus. 

Did a trespasser decide to test your patience today, coming onto your property and bombarding you with the same remarks you’ve always been leveled with? Why are you such a hermit? Why don’t you have any friends? When are you going to settle down and get married like the rest of us? When are you going to get over their deaths and move on?

Not today, nuh uh, no chance. Anger floods your core as you swivel around, searching for the source of your oncoming headache. They’re still yelling, so they can’t be that far. 

When your eyes land on the figure in the distance, your first reaction is confusion. The new scarecrow you’d put up a month or two ago in anticipation of harvest season seems to be writhing. Your first reasonable explanation is that a few vermin have burrowed inside of it, making themselves at home and jostling it around as they tunnel and scramble. 

That doesn’t explain the utterly human wails and the jerky, purposeful movements seizing its straw arms. You squint, heart rate picking up accordingly. It’s too far away to jump to any batshit crazy conclusions, you know that, but the intuition you were born with, the same instinct that’s saved your skin a hundred times before - is telling you that today might not be so lucky after all.

“The fuck,” you mutter, still cradling the humungous pumpkin in your arms.

You take a few steps closer, straightening up tall on your tiptoes. The scarecrow in question is stood right in the middle of the massive, adjoining field, a statue among the swaying of golden wheat. When it was time to replace the old scarecrow (it was torn to shreds by the talons of crows and other rodents), you’d invested in something cheap but durable, almost forgetting about its existence promptly after.

You’ve been faced by its back this entire time, but what happens next almost completely knocks you off your feet.

Its head snaps at a harsh angle, the left - almost a little too much to be human, but you dismiss that thought readily, sobered by the sound of the voice once more. Since you’ve gotten closer and have been taking small steps towards it subconsciously, you’re able to make out what it (he?) is saying.

“Dagnabbit! Hey, ya hear me? I know someone’s back there!” an exhausted huff followed by more futile struggling, “Y’know how fudgin’ rude it is to ignore yer fellow neighbor?”

Oh shit. Oh shit!

Without thinking, you drop everything - everything just so happening to encompass the pumpkin. It falls to the ground in slow motion, pretty much, and you barely hear the resulting Thonk! of it crashing to the ground and splattering all over your work duds, the bottom caving in despite how robust the thing was.

Your thoughts are a mess. Someone must have stolen your property, tied an unsuspecting man to the barren scarecrow post after, and then left him there as a cruel prank! Yeah, that makes way more sense. Did he just call you ‘neighbor’? People around these parts are familiar, but not that familiar; is it possible that this guy also lives down the road, but you’ve never bothered to introduce yourself? Is this his first impression of you?!

Swallowing, you dig your nails into your fists and pull yourself together. There’s never been a contingency plan put into place for a situation like this, but you’ll handle it somehow. You take one tentative step forward before launching into a sprint, almost slipping on the gooey innards of the pumpkin coating the ground, but you narrowly avoid it. You hop the fence with ease, landing in the wheat field with a thud.

“I’m comin’!” you yell, cupping one hand over the curve of your mouth, frantically surveying the area for a certain object. The man is about the same size as your (likely stolen) scarecrow, and with the force of his thrashing, whatever’s holding him there must be tough as nails. Thankfully, you find what you’re looking for - a hatchet.

Old Blade, Kafka’s friend, left it here a week ago. You asked her if she knew anybody that’d chop wood for cheap; you’ve been busy with other chores - and to be honest, lazy - so you were hoping to get someone else to do it. There were a few dead trees skirting the edge of your property, and firewood is always good to have, but you didn’t expect her to volunteer her pal’s services so readily.

Blade showed up with nothing more than a hatchet and a haunted expression that hinted at some clusterfuck of a story. Still, he was polite enough, drank your freshly squeezed lemonade, and cut down those trees faster than some kid with a chainsaw could. After he wrapped up, he left the miniature axe here. You’ve been putting off returning it for days.

Thank the stars you’re a procrastinator, you think, yanking it off the ground and testing its weight, already moving towards the flailing man again. You’ve got your own collection of tools in the shed, but making him wait any longer isn’t gonna help your case - he has half a mind to report you to the cops as an accomplice!

Finally, you reach him. The mysterious fella is donning the same thrown-together attire of the scarecrow, namely one of Pa’s old flannels and some spare trousers you found laying around weeks prior. Had the perpetrator of this crime really dressed him in these clothes?! He’s even wearing the same rustic cowboy hat, complete with a browning, frayed feather sticking out of its cap.

You round the post with a frenzied pulse, raising the blade in the air with a shaky grip on its handle, ready to cut him down from there--

“Whoa, whoa there!” he stammers frightfully as you tilt your chin up to get a better look at his face, “T-That’s a little unnecessary, don’tcha think?”

You freeze.

The man peers at you through a mane of black and white hair, facial features somewhat… faded? They look to be almost stitched on, lips and bulbous jaw littered with threadbare fuzz, his skin the same shade as a potato sack. Where his eyes are supposed to be, there are instead two X’s, accompanied by a scrawled-on fang hanging just below his mouth in toothy decoration. 

In other words: he looks exactly like the scarecrow you put up all that time ago. 

Before he speaks again, you spare a measured glance at his stretched out arms - the ones still bound to the post. They’re the same arms you remember attaching to the wooden stake, finding it weird that they were so human-like - the appendages even gave way to makeshift hands and fingers. You were surprised that the scarecrow was so detailed for its price, but you didn’t give it much thought beyond that. A steal is a steal.

But now? It’s come to life, and it’s talking to you!

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you pale. 

He, no, it - tilts its head at you, hat sliding down just a smidge. “I’m not kiddin’. I’m Boothill.”

You don’t think twice before twirling the hatchet around and driving the blunt end of the handle straight into its too-large noggin.

It takes a moment to realize that you’re screaming, and that the… the fucking scarecrow has gone still. Can you even knock sentient dummies stuffed with straw unconscious? Are you hallucinating? Have you lost all of your marbles, slipped on them, and then fallen into a feverish coma? Is this a night terror? You have been drinking too much of that damn coffee--

Your chest heaves as you take a gigantic, gulping breath.

…then you drop your weapon, curse the heavens for ruining your perfect autumn morning, and then you scream some more.

So, things have not been going well.

Your autumn morning has turned into autumn afternoon, and your kitchen floor practically has a hole seared into it from your nonstop, neurotic pacing. It’s soothing - the only thing keeping your shot nerves at bay. Your feet ache, heeled boots grazing the raised surface of the brick over and over.

Think, think, think.

Well, that’s kinda hard to do when you had to bring him inside.

You stop in your tracks to stare at this ‘Boothill’. After he’d gone limp (and you assume comatose), you’d panicked for a little, thinking that you’d committed murder - before remembering that he is a scarecrow and that you have no qualms with ending a life anyway. Oops. You’d cut him down like you’d planned to, dragged him inside, and… sat him at your dining table.

When you freed him of his bindings, you were reminded of how light he was; despite seemingly gaining consciousness out of nowhere, he is still a scarecrow - traditionally composed of hay, leaves, rags, hell, whatever you can find. His breadth didn’t exactly make it effortless, but you hauled him to the house, up onto the porch, and right past the beaten up welcome mat. The manners ingrained in your mind from an early age stuck with you, so you welcomed the ‘guest’ to sit at the table.

But he - this thing - is not welcome! 

Boothill hasn’t, um… woken up yet. It’s been about three hours of playing the waiting game, and you don’t even know what you’re going to do when he does start to stir.

You’re not gonna call the authorities, that’s for sure; everyone in town except for a scant few already believe you to be off your rocker. Even if you did call them and they showed, what kind of media attention would follow? Paranormal investigators? Scientists? People with cameras and news trucks that’ll camp just outside your acre of land, trying to pester you with their questions? Absolutely not.

Deflating, you know what you have to do.

Would burying an inanimate object alive even work? Can you even use the symptom ‘alive’ to describe what’s going on with him? I mean, you could try putting him in the ground anyway. Your good shovel’s in the shed, and--

…and he really does look like a man from a distance. Boothill, a fitting name, if that’s what truly he calls himself, is keeled over the wood. He’s limp, but you suppose having no internal structural support will do that to you. Such an intricate, intentional design. It’s been a while since anyone’s visited, really, and a part of you maybe feels bad for whacking him earlier. 

God, is this what you’ve become? Soft?

Apparently so, because you don’t retrieve your trusty shovel just yet. Instead, you trudge over to your wall-mounted landline that you pray will pull through one more call. It was pristine white years ago, but now it’s yellowed and considered too ‘old school’ by the kids of today. Not like that hurts or anything. Definitely not.

You punch in the familiar number, gaze drifting back to Boothill. If he gets up, will he try to murder you? That remains to be seen, you suppose. He seemed pretty animated (if not a bit smart-mouthed) before you decided to temporarily ice him. Listening to the crackling static of the line ringing, you hold your breath and pray.

Pick up, pick up, pick up--

A juvenile, annoyed voice finally answers. “Hello? Geez, why are you calling us on this thing again?”

“Silver Wolf,” you sigh, relieved. “Is Kafka home? Can you put her on? And I told you, it’s ‘cause I don’t have her cell number. You can give it to me again later.”

You’re honestly surprised that anybody is home at all. That family of sorts (which sometimes includes that Old Blade) is on the road traveling most of the year. The house you’re calling right now is just one of their many vacation homes around the world, left vacant for several months out of the year. But then again, maybe it’s not all that surprising… they’re usually home for Halloween. Usually.

You can almost hear her wrinkled nose and sour face. “You sound sweaty. But yeah, she just got back from shopping. I’ll get her, one sec.”

Kids these days never mince their words, huh.

The familiar muffled shouting and shuffling of her passing the phone to someone reaches your ears. You tap your foot, attempting to gather your thoughts. How are you going to explain this without sounding crazy? You come up blank, twirling the wire cord idly with your index finger.

“Hey,” Kafka greets, dulcet as usual, “something the matter over there? You never call this early.”

Ugh, if she only knew the half of it. You swallow, uncharacteristically anxious.

“Hypothetically, if one of your scarecrows came to life, what would you do?”

Silence. Actual tumble-weed blowing, deserted ghost town silence. Does she know? She has to know, right? You’ve never been particularly good at hiding things, and you swear that woman can read anybody like an open book, even if their pages are clumped together with superglue. The longer no one speaks, the worse you feel.

Finally, Kafka gives her verdict. “Hm. If it were me, I’d try to have a conversation with it.”

“You’d do what with it?” you ask, incredulous.

She chuckles, the noise broken up by the poor connection. Despite how she always catches you off guard, you certainly didn’t expect an answer like that. If anything, you expected her to encourage you to torch the thing and not look back - by the same token, she isn’t outright dismissing your ridiculous notion either.

“It’s not everyday you get to talk with a living scarecrow,” she hums. “I wonder what stories they’d have to share. Maybe we’d even become good friends, you never know. Does that answer your little riddle?”

Well, you tried.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry for springing that on you,” your grip tightens on the receiver. “Tell sweet Mx. Firefly I said hello, ‘kay?”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Before you can start the ‘I’ll let you go’ formalities, you hear rustling. Your head snaps back up from the floor that you took an acute interest in staring at, panicked. Boothill is moving - well, trying to, by the looks of it. He sluggishly picks his head up, and you’re met with that stitched expression once more. How can he see? Should you even question it at this point?

You hang up hastily, nearly cracking the artifact of a landline in the process.

“Uh,” you stand there, dumb. “Does your head hurt?”

Right after the words leave your mouth, the regret and embarrassment settle in nicely. Of course it doesn’t hurt! He probably can’t even feel pain--

Boothill then suddenly springs out of his seat, making your hackles raise on instinct. You don’t know what he’s trying to pull, so you stiffen. 

“Nope, I’m right as rain,” he says, stretching his arms above his head, like he’s emulating an aerobics instructor. There are no sounds of joints popping from prolonged slumber, reminding you that he’s still entirely inhuman. 

He continues, oblivious to your plight. “You scared the fudge outta me with that hatchet, though. I reckon you thought I meant you harm?” A pause. “S’nice in here. You got AC?”

He surveys your kitchen, curious and looming. Something about it rubs you the wrong way - he’s acting so familiar despite you 1) knocking him out (debatable), and 2) not knowing you at all. Well, he certainly fits in around these parts. Clearing your throat and watching him with narrowed eyes, you formulate a response and motion with your hand for him to sit again.

“Just…” you pinch the bridge of your nose and walk over to the opposite side of the table, never turning your back to him completely. “Sit down. Don’t try anything.”

Boothill complies with a halfhearted shrug. You follow suit, now staring him down at the opposite end. How do you start, and with what? You’ve never been great at talking to people, not that it bothers you.

Well, he’s not really a person, so maybe it’ll work out in your favor.

“What are you? Do you remember how you got here?”

Good enough; the former’s answer will determine how self-aware (and by extension, dangerous) he is, while the latter’s might give you the slightest context on his supernatural circumstances. Baby steps, you remind yourself. Baby steps. You and him seem to be tackling this in stride. Good - the sooner you have this conversation, the sooner you can put this all behind you.

“Ah, well…” he scratches his head with a moth-eaten fingertip, “I can’t say I remember much. Also, I’m gonna choose to overlook that first question! I’m Boothill, and those birds were peckin’ the crap outta me. I woke up at sunrise, very confused, might I add - can’t say I’ve ever been on this farm before.”

You sigh. He isn’t gonna give you any clues whatsoever, huh. “Okay, well--” Boothill cuts you off, “Well is right. Not so fast, now. I haven’t even got your name yet! Someone who’ll run an axe through ya without hesitation must be of a different caliber for sure.”

Is that… admiration coloring his tone? Even though his disposition practically screams it in your face, he’s definitely a weird one. You spit out your name, hurrying through the introduction in favor of processing this information.

He’s articulate, and you don’t mean just verbally; he idles like a 1930s toon, bouncing and animated, brimming with life. He’s more of a mannequin than a scarecrow, as if made for the sole purpose of waking up all antsy and making it your problem. With all this in mind, you blurt out your first immediate thought:

“You need to leave.”

You don’t need this burden sitting across from you, so you tell him as much; some people would see that as cruel, but it’s more fair if anything. You have your small, tight-knit group of friends that you talk to sporadically, and you have your farm. That’s it.

Boothill deflates, bravado waning when you turn the tides. “Leave? Bud, where else would I go?”

…that’s true. He has nowhere to go, no memories, no social or life skills (probably), and you doubt anyone else will have a kinder reaction than you unless they’re plain stupid. You want to tell him to get lost in that same tone you use when someone encroaches too far on your lifestyle - it works wonders. If you get loud and unpleasant enough, it’ll send him packing, you’re sure of it.

So why aren’t you getting started? Why can’t you tell this too-human-non-human to just scat already?

“I got nobody,” he hums, all too casual for the implications of those words. “Unless you count those crows that seemed more interested in havin’ me for lunch.”

He has nobody. 

This guy you barely know whatsoever doesn’t have a Kafka or a Silver Wolf. He doesn’t have any memories of makeshift tire swings and underage driving; he doesn’t have any souvenirs of late parents and old flames. He doesn’t have anything. The world is bound to chew him up and spit him out (if he even gets that chance).

Boothill reclines against the dark wood of his seat rest, as if permanently cementing his spot there. His features are a bit hard to read, but the material of his face crinkles, at odds with the strain of his smile. 

Damn this stupid, traitorous heart of yours.

“Boothill,” you hate how your house voice softens, “Can you work? If you’re going to… remain here, only for the time being, you’re gonna have to pull your weight.”

He laughs again, this time much more human. If you cared more, you’d call him out on his palpable relief.

“Guess I’ll learn, huh?” he flicks the brim of his hat. Then, surprising you once more, he hunches over, stomach pressed flush against the table.

“What--”

Boothill uses this new position as leverage to outstretch his arm to you, and by extension, his hand. His open palm, also inlaid with crude stitching, barely reaches your wary form. 

Swallowing your hesitance, you don’t leave him hanging too long. You wrap your hand around his own, fiber of his beaten up flannel (or maybe that’s just him) tickling your skin. He’s warm. 

Boothill shakes your hand firmly.

“Thank ya kindly.”

You pull away first as he returns to taking up his own space. God, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Just… whatever.”

As late afternoon arrives, you go about stress-cooking up a big meal to get your mind off of your neglected chores and this entire nightmare at hand. It’s extremely hard to ignore Boothill, though, especially when he can be compared to a lost puppy in terms of his curiosity.

(He also tries to sample some of your cooking. It does not work, on account of him not having a tongue. Or real teeth. Or a stomach. Or a digestive tract.)

It’s going to be a bumpy road ahead. You sigh.

[mymegumi]

at the root of it all

pairing: jean kirschtein x fem!reader

genre: angst

word count: 846

warnings: farmer!jean, unhappy/toxic relationship and lots of talks about weeds

notes: firstly, thank you @misutv for the divider i am kissing u for it. secondly this is for @oikirstein mwah i love you giggles. thirdly i love you @hikariakaashi

Weeds were one of the most annoying parts of his job, Jean had decided one day while the sun was beating down on the back of his neck. He’d have to get a towel, because the sunburn was wicked and he didn’t really have the luxury of wasting time waiting for it to heal—the crops waited for no one but the sun, after all.

His hands pulled another patch of overgrown grass from the ground that had been poking out, the dirt on the farm much drier than normal and the sun a bit harsher. Normally he’d be out before sunrise working, making sure to keep his fair skin out of harm’s way despite the weather. Today, however, he found himself under the star’s scrutiny, late to rise and late to work.

“Damn,” he grumbled to himself as he wiped the sweat beading against his forehead with the back of his hand, “was it always this hot?”

Jean’s work was laborious, but he didn’t think anything else would be as fruitful for him at this point in his life. A college dropout who'd barely skated through high school, without a family name to boost his status or even a cent to his name, he was lucky the farm’s owner had taken him in. The farm owner, a gentle older woman who’d lost more than she gained, had taken him in without a second thought and cared for him as her own. Shortly before her passing, she’d left everything to him and that included almost two acres of just crop fields.

If Jean was kidding himself, which he’d been all too likely to do lately, he’d tell himself the reason he was working such hard and tiring hours was just because he was worried about this year’s harvest—but he was never a good liar.

He grumbled again, tugging a bit harder than he needed to on the dandelion flower growing in the vast expanse of his field. He loathed the thought of going home, not because he enjoyed working monotonous hours in the sun with dirt caking into the crevices of his jeans, but because he loathed the thought of going home to you.

You, his girlfriend of some odd years that loved him more than anything else. He hated boiling down your relationship to something so simple, but at the end of the day, you were simply his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend. Yet it felt like so much more and so much less was unsaid.

It didn’t describe the way he’d slowly felt you slip from his fingers despite his best efforts to hold onto you. The word lovers didn’t seem to encapsulate the fact that despite all that the pair of you put in, there was nothing he could do from the weeds that grew amongst the flowers you tended to together. Weeds were resilient, after all, and they grew along the cracks of the pavement and budded where they were least wanted.

They bloomed in the harsh light of words slung at each other with no meaning behind them, each one slipping from his tongue more venomous than the last, that left a sour taste of regret on his tongue he’d rather swallow than admit he felt. He wasn’t a hotheaded teenager anymore, he rationalized with himself, but somewhere underneath the exterior he built as he worked under the blinding sun, he still had his pride. A pride that threatened to swallow his relationship whole if he wasn’t careful—and Jean was usually so careful.

Sometimes as he looked at the expanse of dirt he had to weed, sometimes by hand and sometimes with the help of mechanics, he often wondered what the point of it was. Wouldn’t it be easier to allow the weeds to grow, why discriminate between plants? Weren’t the weeds another form of growth, and if so, wasn’t that a good thing?

“Weeds are dangerous,” the elder woman’s voice rang in his ears as he wiped at the reddening under his eyes, “because if you let them grow, they take from the plants that need it. They might look beautiful, might seem like regular plants, but their only purpose is to take. They take more than they need and they take from the plants that need it more than them.”

The smiles of the people he loves blurred behind his eyes as he shoves his gloves off, not wanting dirt to cake into the creases of his skin. He wiped at his stinging eyes with the heels of his palms, digging into the eyes as he stifled the sounds leaving his mouth, each sob more pathetic than the last one.

“You have to pull the weeds up with its root, because otherwise it isn’t completely gone.” She had warned him one summer evening with a glass of wine in her hand, her free hand carding through his hair. “If you leave even a bit of the root behind, the weed can just grow back again and again.”

Maybe it was finally time for him to start taking her advice.

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #5 Persimmon (Extra Credit)

Picking fruit was not exactly tiring work. It’s not hard on the limbs, it does not ask much of your muscles, and it isn’t going to make you run malms upon malms. What it is, though, is time consuming. Little actions, over and over, in the heat of a summer sun for bells on end will wear anyone down. It does not matter how tall, how wide, how thick or how lithe you are. It will wear you down eventually. The grate of bark on your fingers will become cutting, the weight on the straps will pull down harder on your shoulders, the sensation of sweat trickling down your neck, back and between unmentionables will awaken a chafing you couldn’t imagine. This sun Charlette was reminded of that fact and the nostalgic shine of it would reveal itself to be almost completely untarnished by it. Almost.

“Twelve above, I could drown someone in the sweat collecting in my linens. Are persimmons really worth this much toil? Is old Lodden unwittingly guilty of torture and callous mistreatment of the young? Of child labour? You used to pick his crops when you were young, right Charlette?” Maxim’s whining had been noise in the background, another buzzing pair of wings to join the chorus of summer hatchlings finding their nectar. Hearing her name though, brought it roaring back into her ears sadly. “When I was young, Maxim? You are two twelvemoons older than me.” The Wildwood was leaning against the trunk of a particularly bent tree, lounging really, in the crook formed by the winding body of the old growth. He waved a hand at Charlette, swatting away her words like flies. “Yes, yes. You know what I meant. When you were a child! I bet you were a dhalmel back then already. Is that why Lodden took you on? Could you reach all the way to the top even in your tenth season?” Charlette tossed an over-ripe persimmon at him, it missed, hit the tree and squirted its fermented juices far enough to stain a sleeve. Maxim was quick to escape his perch, holding the drenched fabric from his arm and scowling at the stink now stuck to him. “Aww! C’mon! That’s going to stain! Not that it matters, but it smells too! And I was not even wrong, was I!” but Charlette had returned to her picking, not even paying him the slightest bit of attention. Well, not obviously. Fat, heavy, ripe Persimmons were being dropped into the woven baskets that sat at the base of each tree. Baskets that would be hauled back by chocobo cart once they reached this section. The fuller the collection, the more pride Charlette felt. It was simple work, and she felt drenched to the hind quarters, weary with the repetition, but just so simply satisfied with a visible measure of progress. It was so good, beholding the burgeoning baskets, for the moment it was allowed before Maxim whipped his sleeve against Charlette’s cheek. “Ack! Maxim!” “I’m sharing.” “It stinks! Oh- hurrk!” Charlette gagged, a hand shooting up to wipe the sticky leavings away. But nothing will remove that smell from the inside of her nose, nothing but time and retching. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. You’ve smelled worse in the green houses, hells you’ve probably tasted worse too! How does it compare to mite ichor?” The reminder of that only made her turn away, the dirty look she was shooting ruined by the sudden flex of her throat and loud “Guurh!” that escaped her. His reminder of that foul taste, and texture, only made the entire moment that much harder to handle. “Shut up! You deserved that.” “I don’t think so. I think you deserved that. To wear my new scent, ‘Essence of Orchid Garbage’. I think it’ll be big in Ishgard.” He struck a pose, hip cocked out, hand on waist, the other holding his stained sleeve out with a pinky raised. He looked cultured, in a stupid kind of way. She hated that it made her laugh, partly because she gagged in the middle and tasted acid in her mouth. Maxim took a deep sniff of his new cologne, noise raising up in such a lordly manner you’d think he was King of the Gabage Grove, and joined Charlette in her tortured choking. “Woof! Oh dear, huurp! That’s a stench! Hah!” His enjoyment of the process, though, irritated her. She was  leaning on fence post and trying to pull in deep breaths of fresh, summer air when a voice called out. “Still can’t handle it, can she?” Charlette had not heard that tone in so long. The comforting pitch, the annoying confidence, the cocksure suggestion that it belonged to someone who just knew her, and knew what had happened to her. “Nope!” Maxim responded with far too much glee, the shit. “But she did ask for it, so don’t feel bad, or try to help. It’s not how penance is supposed to work. Instead, tell me how you’ve been Chloe.” Charlette’s sister was a few ilms shorter in height, white in hair, several shades darker in skin, and inhabited all the self-assured confidence someone needed to both be incredibly likable, and hateable, at the same time. Maxim had already draped his arm around her, Chloe equipped in her best picking overalls, which is to say she wore the same blue, worn, badly-fitting but sturdy kind that Charlette and Maxim did. Borrowed from Lodden, and smelling of one thing: farm. “Penance? Oh good, I’m glad the eldest still gets to spend time doing her favourite thing.” Charlette looked to Chloe, and made a hand-gesture that made Maxim gasp, and Chloe smile. It was very out of character. “I thought you weren’t going to make it this season. Weren’t you in Limsa? Or Doma?” She stepped to them and drew herself to full height, Charlette let the two shorter Elezen look up to her. No need for sharp words when she literally always had the high ground. “Yes! And I made a special effort to come through this season. I’d heard you were back home, and I missed you so very much I just had to come and see you again.” Maxim’s face turned between the two, his mouth drawn tight and remaining shut, a rarity for the man. “Mmhm. Well if you are done lying, we were about to start on the next tree. Come along.” and Charlette turned in a sweep, her nose held high in the air, long and determined steps carrying her away from the two. “She’s happy to see me.” Chloe said as she followed from behind. “That so? Did I just witness a pair of Bellamy’s hugging? Y’know, if I think about it, that makes sense. It’s very polite, cold enough to ice tea, and no one would have any idea it’d happened unless told.” A very fake scoff had left Chloe as she pantomimed offense. In all the years Charlette had known her sister, she knew she was incapable of two things: Shame, and seriousness. “How dare you! What you describe is far more intimate than a hug, to suggest my dear sister and I would embrace in such a way in public is positively scandalous.” Charlette glared back over her shoulder at the pair, but they couldn’t see it. Chloe and Maxim had started up a series of bows to each other. Maxim with one hand behind his back and bending low at the waist as far as he could while they walked. “My deepest apologies Lady Bellamy!” Chloe gripped the baggy edges of her overalls and pulled them out in a shallow curtsey. “Fret not Ser Flowerman, all is forgiven for such a gentleman of culture!” Maxim’s chuckle was loud, hearty, his smooth tone a little bit of a liar in its suggestion that he’s a smooth man. “Ser Flowerman, that’s going on my headstone when I pop off this mortal coil.” “You’re very welcome. It suits you.” They couldn’t reach that next tree soon enough. Charlette picked her harvest in silence while the other two continued to cajole each other into further impressions and comedic takes on, well, just about everything. It was very distracting, Charlette thought. But it was also very nice, as it reminded her of a similar time, out here in this old orchid. The three of them younger, nevermind what Maxim thinks. Only it was not with Maxim. No, back then it was Frederick who was helping distract Chloe and the others. Who was her sister’s companion in gently teasing her, or tossing the fallen, rotted persimmons at the others. He always managed to get poor Alistair on the back of the head, knew just when Brianne had him distracted enough to�� “Charlette? Yoohoo, you there?” a charcoal-skinned hand waved in front of Charlette’s face, the sudden silence that had been lost on her came back. Maxim had stepped away, or perhaps been sent away? Why? Charlette looked down at Chloe’s face, which was suddenly serious. What a surprise. “I thought you couldn’t do that.” She asked. “Do what?” Chloe looked confused, perhaps even worried. How dare she. “Nothing. Did you need something?” “I asked if you are okay. You didn’t say anything, you were off with your books again I think. Dreaming of the library?” just a little curl of her lips came out. Hah! See, not a serious bone in Chloe’s body. Charlette looked at her little sister, perhaps staring for a bit too long. Then reached out, pulled her into a gentle hug that Chloe returned as easily as slipping into fresh sheets on a newly made bed. “No. No I’m not okay.” And just then, for the first time since Charlette had been pulled back home, it felt okay to be that way. Goodness, picking fruit was tiring work.

[angelhummel]

Then do the Nd men. Kurt,Finn,Puck, Artie, Mike, Matt, Sam,Blaine, Ryder, Jake, Rory, Joe, Mason, Roderick, Spencer, Alistsir, Skylar Myron (anyone I missed?)

Do we include Jesse?

Okay this one is harder mostly bc I literally do not care about most of these guys xD Also I will include Jesse, to the disappointment of any Jesse fans that follow me lmao. Will try to keep it short and sweet. (There’s 13 girls and 19 boys? Why do we need them). Going from the top down instead of bottom up this time bc idk how I feel about some of these guys so we’ll get the best out of the way and do process of elimination

Kurt. King of the show, king of my heart, number one supreme for all time

Blaine. He’s my baby and I love him

Sam. I think of s2-3 before s4-5 but I still love him. 

Jake. Literally one of the only boys with TALENT. He’s got the voice and he can DANCE. No other boy on the show comes close. Plus he’s such a sweetie and a cutie on his lil scooter <3 We stan

Puck. An underrated king. Should’ve been the leader of the club if we needed a cishet jock as the leader at all. He had some shaky writing in s1 but he was such a sweetheart. Also he’s funny, insanely shippable, and had some of the best growth on the show

Roderick. We finally got some plus size boy representation, some plus size representation period that wasn’t just a joke, he had an amazing voice and also he was sexy as hell. That’s enough for me to put him here

Mason. Also sexy as hell, also has a great voice. He was a total sweetheart and part of the few things I loved about s6

Mike. He still pissed me off a couple of times but idk he’s still insanely more tolerable than a lot of the boys. He was such a talented dancer, all his actual songs were nice and/or fun, aaand he’s just good to look at :)

Myron. Literally the most talented performer New Directions had ever seen. No I do not accept criticisms or arguments, that’s a fact

Artie. He could be a misogynistic little asshole sometimes but also it’s realistic. He was funny, had some good moments, and obviously had one of the best voices on the show

Spencer. People think they deserve a goddamn Pulitzer prize every time they write a gay character that’s into sports and not fashion and it’s so fucking dumb lmao. Buuut I do still like him. I think he’s funny, I like the few songs he gets, and I loved him and Alistair’s relationship <3 

Ryder. He is one of the main causes of s4 being as messy as it is. He goes through so much bullshit for nothing and it’s actually hilarious. And when he has nothing else to do, you can guarantee he’s providing some great background moments

Alistair. In the show for like ten minutes but idk. He’s a cutie and I like his relationship with Spencer. Our cup runneth over with white gay boys

Joe. He’s kinda dumb but at least he’s nice?? Also he’s fine as hell

Matt. Our silent king. He only had 3 lines so he never had time to piss me off. He is also a provider of great background moments. Also he has hardly any personality despite Dijon’s best efforts, so we can make him whatever we want and ship him with whoever we want. The possibilities are endless. 

Jesse. If he weren’t as absolutely fucking hilarious as he was, he could easily be last. I just don’t like him as a character. But he does make me laugh constantly and that’s what matters.

Rory. If his introduction wasn’t tied to two of my least favorite characters, I could like him a little more. Like he really didn’t do anything wrong, he was just kind of annoying and we didn’t need him. But “you’re skinny like the crops failed on your family’s farm” remains one of the funniest lines on the show, not sorry about it

Skylar. Not a highlight of s6 and didn’t really make an impression on me :/ However he gets bonus points simply for having a real name and not being called “gay warbler” or whatever the hell (:

Finn. :)

send me some glee things to rank!

[a-lovestruck-salamander]

Co-oping games like Stardew Valley will always be interesting to me because your experience will be defined by the type of people you play it with.

When I played it with my boyfriend, he spent a lot of his time grinding in the mine and fighting enemies, whilst also prioritizing making lots of money. I meandered around collecting things and petting the chickens One was named Cock and making sure to give gifts to the villagers each day. He would occasionally present me with a fish, specifically the ‘chub’ fish. We thought it was funny, however he would not accept it when I would attempt to give him my chub. Overall was fairly uneventful, other than us having a few disputes about who got to upgrade which tools first or me just being inexperienced with the game and fucking things up accidentally. We also failed the first festival, which he was dissapointed by, however I was much too busy being angry about Harvey’s existence to much care. Simply? He cared about efficiency, I liked dicking around.

When I played with my best pal Maddie, it was very smooth and slow going. She spent her days mostly fishing, but I had by this time developed a desire to mine and collect all the resources. We also planned for our in game wedding, even though we knew it was an event sequence that we’d be fully unable to control. We didn’t care. We just wanted to have a happy little farm and be married in the game. We shared a bed in the main house.

When all my friends and I played together on one farm with a total of five people? We knew it could get chaotic, so we had a game plan. We all had unique jobs- Ryan and I would mine, Maddie would fish, Chris would chop trees and Jacob would cultivate the farm. Together, we could surly acomplish feats like none had ever seen.

However, as soon as we began playing, all hell broke loose.

Maddie and I made our characters look much like we do in real life. Jacob made his character look like a ghost, and Ryan’s was hard to look at with the strange color combinations. Already there was a stark contrast on how we would approach this game.

The first thing we did is, we all stood in the exact same spot and tried to make the game glitch out. It worked, and it was really funny.

Maddie, Jacob and I began making one large plot for our crops to be planted, only to walk by Ryan and see that he had planted crops haphazardly in front of his house. We explained that this would make it harder to ensure all the crops would be watered, but we let it go.

It was then Ryan presented me with a Chub. I vehemently rejected it, demanding that I would obtain my own chub to then present to Maddie. However, I’m bad at fishing in the game, so I eventually obtained Ryan’s chub and regifted it to an unknowing Maddie. Maddie, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for giving you Ryan’s hand me down Chub.

A few days pass, and we produced our first fruitful harvest, happily selling the wares and adding the funds to the joint bank we shared. As Jacob headed off to the market, someone asked a very good question.

“Hey. Where did all the money go?”

Silence permeated as we all probed each other for the culprit. Who had spent the money? And on what? We would soon have the guilty party, as we saw Ryan walk up wearing a new hat that he had purchased from the shady hat dealer. We all proceeded to scold him for spending our money so frivolously- we needed that for crops! It was much too early to be purchasing HATS of all things.

And then the rearranging happened.

We had all mutually decided to just share the main house that is given to the main player, because seeing 5 people sleep in one bed was funny. Our personal houses would be used for storage only, which was fine for a while. That was, until I entered my house and saw half of my furniture removed, unwanted furniture added in, and a bright pink chest in the middle of the room. It annoyed me on principle- I did not enjoy having my things moved without my permission. This was a declaration of war if I had ever seen it.

Knowing the culprit was certainly Jacob- he’s a little shit who just does things like that- I decided to take all the wall decorations from ever house and plaster them all over his. Then, Ryan stole the lamp from my house. I stole it back. It was tug of war for ownership of these precious items. No one was mining anymore. Chris had gone to bed, Maddie was too busy fishing, and the trio of chaotic fuckers were too damn busy fighting over who got to keep the weird scarecrow in their house. It was madness.

All of that happened in the course of a few hours of playing. We only ever tried to play twice, realizing quickly that we would never actually progress in the game due to our inability to actually work together as a team. However, the time we spent is remembered fondly by all present. Except Chris. He had to go to bed early so he missed a lot of it. Sorry bud.

[secondhand-trash]

Harvest Moon: Plus Ultra!- A New Beginning

A/N: finally starting this series for real and I’m so pumped!!

Description: When you found yourself barely able to breathe amidst the mundane routine that you were stuck in, a letter from your grandparent’s semed to be the answer to your call for change. As you left everything you knew behind, it was time for a new beginning in a faraway town.

Word count: 2169

Tag list (dm to be added to the general tag list or to be tagged in a certain character’s arc):

@redbeanteax​ @mrsreina​ @blu-that-one-nerd​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @sparkncharge​ @todobunhon​

(back to the home screen of Harvest Moon: Plus Ultra!)

Dear (y/n):

Hello, we hope that you are doing well! 

It has been a while since you last visited the ranch and many things had happened. Don’t worry, the large fields at the front of the house that you used to love running through is still here and Henry the chicken is still well and alive. All the animals are doing great in face and the crops are growing as nicely as ever.

Everything is going fine but we are growing old and we feel like it is harder and harder for us to carry on with the chores of running the farm as each day goes by. A month after we write this letter to you, we would be retired from all the work and set off on a trip across the world to all the places we have wanted to visit but never had the time to.

It was a tough decision but after thinking of the many possibilities together, we decided that this is for the best. The only thing left for us to handle is the future of the ranch. We thought about selling it but after spending so much effort and such a long time on these grounds, it pains us to think that this place that is so tied in to many of our wonderful memories would be gone. 

While being on the phone with your mom, she told us that you were starting to feel tried of your life in the city and the stress is starting to weight on you. Although we get that this is a huge decision, but how would you feel about taking over the ranch after we retire? You used to like being around the farm so much and even though running it on your own might be tough work, we feel like the farm would be safe in your hands. We know that this is a lot to ask of you, but we support whatever decision you make and we hope to hear from you soon.

Take care of yourself, a healthy body is the greatest asset you will ever have. Don’t forget to go to bed early and drink enough water!

Love,

Grandma and grandpa

Folding the letter in half along the neat edges that you had opened and folded back together for countless times, you put it back into your bag and sighed. You had been on the bus for what felt like an entire lifetime but you were still nowhere near your destination. There was nothing to see when you looked out of the window, just endless trees and greenery that didn’t seem to have a stop to it. The car went smoothly ahead on the road, with occasional bumps and turns as you got further and further away from the city. 

The city. It had yet to settle in your mind completely that you were actually leaving that place. Not a vacation, not a trip that you had to go back from. You were leaving, and there was no turning back. You could still see the concrete walls and the busy streets at the start of the ride, but the plain view of nothing but green from where you were now was a huge contrast for what you were still living amongst merely hours ago. 

The city was bustling and filled with adventures around every corner but in all honesty, you were tired of it. Your apartment was a box and the cubicle you spent most of your time in was no better. Always going from one place to another, with no purpose but to make ends meet. You wouldn’t not die without your job but you did not want it either. You were not alive but you simply weren’t dead either. It was boring, and the last bit of passion inside of you kept screaming at you to break out of the cycle that you were trapped in but you simply did not know how.

That was when the letter came and it was like seeing a ray of light shining through the windows of your 80 sqm apartment. Your initial reaction when you held the envelope in your hand was to just stand there in shock. You could not believe that your grandparents were finally retiring. From what you remembered, it was like they had more energy and liveliness than everyone of your family who were way younger than them. It was a true call from reality to think that they were getting old too. You also thought of the ranch that they pour their heart and soul into managing. You remembered how you used to beg them to let you help with the work around the farm whenever you visited them as a child.

It had been way too long since you had been around the fields. You still remembered the feeling of being covered in sweat and dirt but still got back to the house with nothing but satisfaction in your chest. The smell of grass in the morning as you rode on the back of a horse and the things you had learnt through taking care of all the animals still fresh in your head. 

That was how you took probably the biggest risk in your life and say yes to their offer. Now you were on the bus to Yuuei Town, days after you quitted your job and headed for a new start in somewhere you had never been to since you were still in middle school.

It was horrifying to think of to say the least. But you had made your decision and there was no turning back. This was your one chance of getting a whole new life and you would be damned if you didn’t take it. Many things could happen, and a lot of them were far from being good, but you were excited for your new beginning.

The sudden break of the car let out a sharp squeak from the tires and your body fell forward as it hit a stop. You looked out to see that you were no longer surrounded by trees but under the open sky, the tiny sign of the bus stop being the only thing man-made you had seen in a while.

“Yuuei Town”

Quickly getting your many luggage and your bags, you got off the bus and took a deep breath. Cold air filled your lungs and you felt alive once again. It had been too long since you had last gone anywhere remotely rural, even the air felt different. You did not quite remember which way was the correct one to your grandparent’s- well, perhaps you should call it your ranch from now on but you still tried your best to go on the right road with the little instruction that you were given.

You weren’t sure if they had renovated the roads or your childhood memories had betrayed you, but it took way longer than what you expected and a lot of going back after realising that you made the wrong turn for you to finally get to where you were supposed to be.

It brought you a sense of comfort to see that the ranch was still the same as what you remembered it as. The farmhouse was in a distance with the fields being in front and the barns for the animals were at the back. It had been a while to say the least, but as you walked past the wooden fences it was like going home after a long journey away.

The door to the farmhouse was unlocked and with a light push, you poked your head inside. Your grandparents had already left for their first destination by the time you arrived, as seen by how all the furniture were covered by a white plastic cover. Sliding a finger along the window frame, you scrunched your face together when you saw just how much dust was covering everything. It would take a long while for you to clean everything up, you sighed as you put your luggage down onto the floor. 

You didn’t even know where to start with all that. Feeling absolutely clueless as you faced the lifeless house, the anxiety you had regarding this decision was starting to appear once more. You were on your own now, with no one to help you and no one to go to if you come across any trouble. It would take you days just to get everything settled down and not to mention getting the hang on how to actually get everything running...

You were scared, and you wondered if you really made the right decision.

It was as if the universe wanted to tell you to stop worrying when you heard a knock at the door. Opening the door, you were face-to-face, actually no he was nowhere near being your eye level, with a white mouse in full business attire. He(?) had a soft smile on his face and behind him was a man with stacks of files on his hands and a pair of rectangular glasses sat neatly on the bridge of his nose alongside with a girl who was very, very pink from head to bottom.

“Hello! You must be the new owner of the ranch, your grandparents told me about you before they left and I decided to come welcome you.” The mouse reached his hand out, “I’m Nezu, the mayor of this town. I will be in the Town’s office if you need anything.”

Shaking Mayor Nezu’s extended hand, you did not have much time to process the fact that the town’s mayor was a mouse before he continued. “This is Iida kun who is the secretary of the office,” the man behind him bowed and you did the same in response in absolutely panick at how formal he was, “and this is Ahisdo san who runs the stable in town.”

The girl grabbed your hand and beamed, “Nice to meet you but Ashido is too formal, you can call me Mina!”

“Ashido san! You are going to intimate them!”

You managed a chuckle at the exchange between the two people. Mayor Nezu cleared his throat to stop them from rambling and he continued. “I’m sure that there’s a lot you have to do to settle down. Yuuei Town is not very big but you can get everything you need in the town square. Please do get to know everyone around when you have time, everyone is very friendly and I’m sure they look forward to meeting you! I brought Iida kun and Ashido san here with me today so they can help you with some basics on how to get around the farm and other things you should know...”

They taught gave you all the information you needed about the town and tips on how to run the farm. It was a lot to take it and your mind was so close to wandering away only to be pulled back at the last second on several occasions. After what seemed like hours of talk with phrases that you had barely heard of before, countless bickering between Iida and Mina, and several moments where you wonder if mice can kill when you sensed the rising danger in Nezu’s tiny eyes as the two argued, they finally left but not without telling you that you were always welcomed to go to them for help if you need anything. Mina also very eagerly offered to take you to the best (and only) restaurant for lunch next week as Iida yelled at her to keep up.

Like that, they were gone and you were alone once more. It was weird to hear just how silent the house was when seconds ago it was filled with people talking. You definitely felt better when they were around but now that it was just you, you were starting to feel lost once again.

This would not do, you had to start somewhere. Your searching eyes landed on the same window frame you touched when you first entered the room. This place could use some ventilation. Taking a deep breath as if you had decided something, you pushed the windows open.

The evening breeze hit your face and you looked out to see that the sun was setting. Everything you saw was under the lovely golden hue of the descending sun. Leaning onto the wooden frame, the last bit of warmth landed on your face, creating a perfect balance with the soft wind. The grass moved along with the movement of the wind and its ruzzling passed into your ear.

From some reason, for no good reason at all, the sight in front of you gave you the sudden relieve that everything would be okay.

Everything would turn out to be okay.

Leaning back, you turned around to look at the mess that was your new home and rolled your sleeves up for first of the many days of hard work ahead.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 2 of ???

“What were you thinking?”

Rei exploded, frayed ends of his nerves finally snapping. It was enough to snap me out of my shocked horror, the dread that had taken me in the hallway. Seeing both sides, so ready to fight--

“Rei, this has to stop!”

We stood in the violence charged aura of the room, muscles still singing with unused adrenaline. The tension trembled through me, a humming string just waiting to be released. I couldn’t help but see Zane’s coiled readiness in Rei’s tensed hands, as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to burn off some of that fighting edge.

“He tries to kill you,” Rei said with a forced calm I knew he didn’t yet feel, “and you jump to defend him?”

“If he’d wanted to kill me,” I bit back, “he could have done so over an hour ago when he’d first arrived.”

Rei stared at me, scanning me from head to foot for some hidden injury. Then he looked me over again, taking in my interrupted attempts to dress for bed, and it was only when color rose to his cheeks and his gaze darted quickly to the side that I realized what he must think.

“You too?” I cried. “What is it about my unbuttoned blouse that makes every man that sees me think I have no virtue left?”

I clutched my arms tight about myself, partly to comfort myself, and partly to keep from slapping my guard and lifelong friend. I didn’t know what infuriated me more: that Zane thought he’d interrupted me and Andreios, or that Andreios somehow thought he’d interrupted me and Zane.

“Dani, I didn’t--“

“Didn’t sweep the room for her safety, or didn’t do you duty and slay the villain while you had the chance?”

We both whirled to see my mother, standing in imperial fury, flanked by all our people, and half the Mistari guards.

Rei dropped to one knee, fist to his chest in the deepest salute our people had to offer. The guards didn’t usually bother--it left them utterly defenseless--but my mother had already murdered Rei on the spot with her words, so what did it matter, the safety of his body?

“My lady--“

“Oh get up, Andreios. You won’t do anyone any good down there.”

Rei snapped to his feet, tall and still and perfect as any carved soldier. Only the furious crimson of his face gave any indication that his heart still beat.

“Mother--“

“Button your blouse, Danica, and put on your boots. We’re leaving.”

“Mother!”

The Mistari guards all flinched at my raised voice, anticipating further violence. I thought again of the scene in the hall, our little armies ready to clash, our insatiable war threatening to spread.

This had to stop.

“We just got here; we’re tired. In the morning--“

“In the morning we will be half-way home--flying over the remains of a failed ambush.”

“I-- what?”

I stared at mother, uncomprehending.

“The messenger came just now. General Cadmia found spies in the woods, waiting to shoot us down on our return. We must leave now, before they discover their plot has failed and regroup.”

“There’s no way. Irene assured us their soldiers had pulled back--“

“They lied, Shardae. It’s what they do.”

Apparently, so had we. Or else how would we have known their soldiers hadn’t retreated as promised?

I wanted to stay, to see if the Disa might offer some less outrageous suggestion, or if I had simply misunderstood her intention in my exhaustion from the long flight. But I also wanted to speak with my generals, and discover why they had ignored a direct order from their Tuuli Thea.

Assuming she had given it.

I let my flight lead me back home, fleeing the problem of Zane Cobriana, and fearing I was returning to a much bigger one. - “Routine maneuvers,” General Rinnman said. The raven was three score my senior, and one of the oldest among us. Our people could be quite long lived, if not cut down prematurely in battle. Rinnman and the other generals all had varying degrees of grey at their temples, but their bodies remained sculpted and sharp. While the generals did not engage directly in most battles, they still trained daily with their soldiers, each knowing every member of their flights and their exact capabilities. The Royal Flight was the best of the best, and most that survived to step back from active duty became our army’s generals.

My army’s generals.

“You had been ordered to stand down,” I repeated, not satisfied with the dismissive nature of his answer. This wasn’t my first time attending a meeting of the generals’ council. It was, however, the first time I had called one.

The flight home had done nothing to calm my doubts; the constant vigilance of Rei and the rest of the flight had only heightened my unease. I summoned my generals to me almost the instant we’d landed. The agitated guard had hastened to obey; the restless soldiers in the yard buzzed with the potential for action. I hated the sense of approval from them, that they were glad their soon to be queen was ready to act so swiftly. On the one hand it was true; I was primed and anxious for action. But it wasn’t for any battle or fray they would be taking part in.

“We have to keep up our conditioning,” General Viridian said. He was closer to my mother’s age than Rinnman. He had the grace to look somewhat apologetic in his explanation.

“The soldiers were restless, on edge. Sending them on scouting maneuvers made them feel less like sitting ducks.”

“We were sitting ducks,” Rinnman insisted. “Or would have been, if the scouting parties hadn’t found them out--“

“How do you know they weren’t scouting parties?” I demanded. The half dozen men just stared at me.

“How do you know the serpiente soldiers weren’t just doing exactly as you were, burning off nervous energy on routine maneuvers?” I pinned Rinnman with my molten gold eyes as I said it.

Rinnman bloviated, but in the end, didn’t have a good answer. None of them did. I called an end to the meeting with a pounding headache, insisting once again that we stand down. I told my generals that if they needed to fly scouting parties that was all well and good, but that their scouts were to report back before any actual engagement. I also gave them permission to put teams on additional fortifications, if they had that much energy to burn, around the outlying farms and settlements that lay between the serpiente and the Keep. Too long, those parts of our lands had been left more or less on their own, with the large focus of our forces spent on defending the keep itself, or engaged on the bloody fields that stood in the empty stretches between us and the serpiente. Like a scar on the land, those stretches of forest and field lay empty of any habitation for generations. I wondered nonsensically as I prepared for bed if all those years of blood would yield richer crops, or anything could be grown there at all. -- I dreamed of Zane, of Rei, of Vasili. The only thing that allowed me to sleep at all I think was exhaustion. I had been up for nearly two days straight by the time I’d finally retired. It mirrored my emotional weariness perfectly, and made for unshakable slumber.

My dreams walked a familiar path, adding little detours here and there but remaining mostly unchanged. I would dream of my most recent walk through the fields of blood--this time seeing the red of Gregory’s eyes leaking out in crimson tears to stain the world and leave his eyes grey and hollow and lifeless--and inevitably I would find myself a small child again, chasing after Rei, who had gone out to find his missing father...

“Rei...”

I called out for my friend, finding the man who would be my guard, and in the way of dreams he was somehow both Rei and Vasili, my fallen alastair. I had been too young when I’d lost him to remember much, so my mind often substituted the relationship I’d built with Rei for the man who should have had his place. I let myself fall into his arms, taking care and comfort in dreams in a way I wished I knew how to do in my waking life.

I turned my face up to him, but somehow it was a garnet gaze that looked back at me.

It's not a dealbreaker for me, he’d said. We both have heirs to produce.

“Give me back my alastair,” I muttered to the dream, burying my face in his chest. It was a nice chest, broader and more muscled than his avian counterpart. Counterpart. Goddess, what a thought. What my mother and the other scandalized hoverhawks would think if they could hear me now.

“Not your alastair yet,” the dream Zane mused lightly. “I believe that was the point of all this?”

He gestured around us to the Mistari hall, grown up around us in the way of dreams. Though the ground was still the blood-stained grass and undergrowth of our own lands. But now tigers had been added to the fallen dead, my sick premonition of our war spreading come to life in my awful, unshakable dreams. Why couldn’t I believe in peace with as much certainty as I dreamed of war?

I turned away from the carnage, waking just enough to feel myself rolling over in my bed. Almost enough to wake, almost, but never quite enough. Zane’s voice was soft behind me.

“I wish we’d had a real chance to talk,” it said. I did my best to ignore it, willing my dreams to shift.

“I can’t say,” he continued, and his voice sounded closer now. I hugged my pillow closer to me, whimpering softly in my desperation to wake, or change dreams, or something. Anything but this fitting torment of my guilty subconscious. I should have tried harder to stay. I shouldn’t have let my mother bully me out of the peace talks. She could have flown back to deal with the generals--

“I think I could learn to love you, Danica, impossible as it seems.”

The dream’s voice sounded directly in my ear, the breath of my guilty apparition brushing across my cheek. I thought I felt the barest caress of lips on my temple, as if this facsimile of my enemy could somehow absolve me and release me from my nightmares. He leaned over me and pressed something into my hand, a talisman against further bloodshed.

“Come chase better dreams with me,” he whispered, closing my clutching fingers around something smooth and hard. I gripped it the way I wanted to grip him, to hold any hand in this unending morass of memory and horror. It was said the first hawks could sing beautiful visions into their dreams, the first songs of my people being more spell than sound. Apparently all that remained of those gifts was a penchant for lucid mocking nightmares.

“It was meant to be my eldest sister’s.” The dream of Zane was starting to fade, retreating into the dark as the next dream prepared to take his place. Would I dream now of brutalized infants, or crushed eggs in a nest of hawks and serpents alike?

“I hope you will consider wearing it.” He laughed, a dark sound. “Grim as it may be. I’m afraid everything I have to offer you will be somewhat bloodstained.”

“Your majesty, we have to leave.”

That new voice almost startled me to wakefulness. But even the familiar unfamiliar voice was not enough to break me from my wretched nightmares.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith  @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Seven: A House in the Country ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: To Rule Them All ] [ AO3 Link ]

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It’s been so long, she scarcely has memories of the place she lived before.

For nearly as long as she can remember, Hinata has lived here, in this little house in the country: a rural part of the province where she was born. By now, her guardian has passed, and the running of their little farm has fallen to her shoulders. It’s a humble, often impoverished life...but one she nonetheless enjoys.

She urges plants from the soil, tends to her livestock, and keeps up the little house. Everything she has is by her own merit, and a source of her own pride. Her hands are calloused and her body often aches...but there’s little she can’t tend to on her own. She bothers no one, and no one bothers her

Just as it was arranged.

Which is why, when the quiet of a sunny afternoon is broken by the clatter of hooves along the path, she looks up to the road with guarded eyes. Only a handful of other homes line this road, so any passersby are a rare occurrence...and usually make her wary.

Astride two mounts are a matching tally of men. One of long umber hair tied in a tail seems to look over the property with a grimace, as though the sight brings a sour taste to his mouth. By his garb, she can tell he’s part of the envoy...but even after all this time, she still recognizes her cousin, Neji.

The other, however, she does not know. Pale and striking, ebony locks are a mess about his face, eyes just as dark and seemingly veiled with an ever-present glower. His armaments and armor immediately mark him as a soldier, but not just any soldier: one of the elite royal guard.

Dread weighs in her stomach, a number of worrying assumptions boiling in her gut. Standing on her doorstep and watching them approach, Hinata offers no greeting.

This can’t be good.

Neji approaches at the fore, bringing up the reins of his horse and urging it to a stop. For a long moment, the cousins eye one another, clearly trying to place past standings into the present.

“...Hinata?” he then asks, tone curt and assertive.

“Neji,” is her own soft reply.

“Where is your guardian? We must speak.”

“Dead. Three years now.” At his surprised jerk, she asks, “Was no one made aware…?”

“You’ve...been on your own all this time?”

“And no worse for wear.” In her grip, the broom she was sweeping her entryway with shifts. “Whatever you needed to say to them, you can say to me, dear cousin.”

The title earns a hint of a flinch. “My...my orders were to -?”

“Seems your orders are a bit outdated,” the other man cuts in with a drawl. “I think you’d best adjust your strategy accordingly, messenger.”

As his mount sidesteps idly, Neji shoots him a glare. “...my words were meant for your guardian, but...I suppose in lieu of them, I will...defer to you.” He clears his throat. “...her highness, the princess Hanabi, has disappeared.”

At that, Hinata stiffens.

“While every available lead is being followed and every action taken to ensure her safe return, certain...arrangements are being prepared in preparation of great tragedy. If the heiress is lost, then -”

“Then you will settle for second best.”

The blunt rebuke begets another flinch. And beside him, the guard lets slip a hint of surprise.

Seems he had no idea what he was tagging along for.

Hinata spares him a glance as Neji recovers. He’s clearly part of the family that heads the Hyūga kingdom private guard, looking about her and her cousin’s age. Something tells her this is just as much a test for him as it is the rest of them.

“The...circumstances surrounding your exile are -”

“I don’t want to go over it all again,” Hinata cuts in, tone weary. “What I do want is to hear what has happened to my sister.”

“That...will have to wait until we arrive at the capital, per his majesty’s orders.”

At the mention of the king, Hinata’s brows furrow just a hair, expression hardening. “...what will happen to this place?”

“What?”

“There are animals and crops here. I’ll not let them sit neglected if I’m to leave with you.”

Again Neij hesitates. “We...came here on the assumption there would be someone left in your stead.”

“Assumptions tend to make a mockery of everyone. Until arrangements can be made otherwise, I’ll not go.”

“But Hinata, you -?”

“If I really am to become a princess again, then surely my word is binding, isn’t it?” There’s an edge to her voice that betrays her bitterness. “For three years this place has been the fruits of my labors, and my labors alone. I want it entrusted to someone who will give it equal effort. If you can’t do that much...then I’m staying. No matter what my father thinks...this is my home. And after being free of him this long, I’m not so eager to bow to his every whim.”

With that, she steps inside, shutting the door with a decided thud.

Outside, the men stand at a loss.

“...and here you told me this was going to be easy,” the knight them mutters, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Neji scoffs, dismounting and adjusting his outfit. “When I last saw Hinata, she was a meek, spoiled child. Clearly that has changed...I was not expecting it.”

“Seems she was right.”

“Right?”

“Assuming does make a mockery of everyone. Even you, duke.”

That earns him a heated glower. “Watch your tongue, Uchiha. Chosen guard or not, you’re in no position to needle me.”

“She’s doing a fine job of that herself, believe me.” Sliding from his own saddle, Sasuke tethers his horse to a nearby post and looks the house over. “...so what did warrant this...separation of sisters?”

“It’s hardly your business, knight. This is a royal family affair.”

“Well maybe if I knew more, I could aid you. Besides, I serve your royal family. Odds are I’ll learn it eventually once the gossipers get ahold of this.”

Neji heaves an irritated sigh. “...when Hinata was young, her father was convinced of her weakness. The second daughter, Hanabi, was deemed stronger...mostly due to her mother dying in childbirth. Convinced, Hiashi arranged for Hinata to be...removed to allow Hanabi the title of heiress. The elder daughter was taken here, in a remote part of the country, to be raised and kept secret. Unless need came of her, she would live out her days here while Hanabi was seated to take the throne.”

At that, Sasuke gives a derisive snort. “So...she is considered second best. A backup plan.”

“Every royal family needs one in the face of...unfortunate circumstances.”

“And what of you?”

“What?”

“Here I thought you were second in line as a first cousin. Doesn’t this make your bid for the throne all the harder?”

At that, Neji scoffs again. “I hardly want the title. Ruling is not my role. If anything...I pity Hinata for more than the insult of being a replacement heir.”

“But we still need to get her back.”

“Indeed. Given that neither hide nor hair of Hanabi has been found these past weeks...Hiashi has been forced to plan for the worst. If she is dead, then we have no choice: Hinata must be reinstated as heir and take the throne upon Hiashi’s death.”

“And if she refuses…?”

The Hyūga sighs. “...then it would indeed fall to me. But as stated...I would rather avoid that outcome if at all possible.”

“So your stake is personal.”

“In a manner of speaking...yes.”

Considering the door, Sasuke offers, “...we need to comply with her demands, then. Find a groundskeeper, then head back. Surely someone local can step up to the task. Problem solved.”

“Perhaps. I know not who to ask.”

“No...but she does. She’s lived here her whole life. Just a matter of getting her opinion. Let me take a crack at this, duke.”

Looking vexed, Neji simply waves him on.

Stepping up to the entrance, Sasuke knocks, waiting until given permission to step inside. “...your highness?”

Tending to flowers in a window, Hinata sighs curtly. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then...what would you prefer?”

“Just...Hinata. I’ve not been a princess for over a decade. Suddenly being treated as one irks me.”

“I can imagine.” Stepping further in, Sasuke then asks, “So...who here would best suit your homestead in your absence?”

“What?”

“Time is of the essence, my lady. The sooner we get you back to the capital, the sooner we can begin the proper proceedings. Surely you know someone here who can oversee your home in your absence?”

Watching him uncertainly, Hinata eventually nods. “...I do.”

“Then best we make arrangements.”

For a moment, a shadow of defeat seems to overcome her. “...I will send a message.” Caged near a window, a dove soon bears a message, carrying it beyond the pane as Hinata considers the knight curiously. “...are you my cousin’s guard, then?”

“Me? No. As a matter of fact, I’m to be yours. Neji’s is part of the search party for your sister, so...I’ve been spread a bit thin in the meantime.”

At the mention of Hanabi, Hinata wilts. “...is there truly no word on what happened…?”

“All I know - all any of us know - is that she was taken in the dead of night. Since then, all efforts to locate her have been in vain. But we’re still looking. I doubt we’ll stop until a conclusion is drawn either way.”

Sighing softly, Hinata stares out the window. “...in truth...I’ve dreaded this day. Life here is hard, but...it’s all I’ve known. This is my home...my guardian my family. I don’t want to give it all up to start over again...pretending these strangers are anything but that: strangers.”

Not knowing what to say, Sasuke’s head bows. “...well...all we can do is face our duties, my lady. I’m determined to follow mine: you won’t face this alone.”

At that, she looks up to him, expression unreadable before managing a somber smile. “...thank you.”

     This is...really random xD Probably not anything I’ll continue - I had a really hard time coming up with a scene for this prompt, so it’s really pulled out of thin air. I do like the concept of a royal / medieval arrangement like this, with Hinata being ousted for Hanabi, BUT...I have an ooold project I might reboot and do something with that’s similar, so...there’s that at least!      Anyway, it’s...very late, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so I’m gonna head off for the night. Hopefully no more delays and I can stay caught up the rest of the month! But, if I do miss another day at any point, know I’ll do my darndest to make it up in good time! I am determined to finish this event fully xD Buuut anyway, enough out of me: thanks for reading!

[universal-kitty]

   Harvest Moon & Story of Seasons: To the Ones I’ve Loved (and Have Crushed On, In Some Form or Another)

   This will be under the cut, because there are a LOT of games to address!

Cliff: More Friends of Mineral Town/DS Cute

One of my lovetime faves from the series! I related to him, what with us both being shy and needing help a lot from the people around us. Look at how cute he is when he blushes!! Whenever I play DS Cute, he’s always my first option.

(He also likes grapes. Always a good choice.)

Gray: More Friends of Mineral Town/DS Cute

I...have complicated feelings for Gray, honestly. On one hand, he’s never stood out too much to me, for some reason. He’s a fun enough character- a gruff grandson of the local blacksmith, who softens up over your relationship with him- but he never caught my eye as someone I’d wish to chase down as much as, say, Cliff.

But at the same time, I have many fond memories of calling him “Uma Boy” (because of his hat) and it’s cute?? It has “childhood friends to lovers” vibes that still makes me hesitate when I want to say I- supposedly- have no interest in him...

Karen: Friends of Mineral Town/HM DS

While I prefer her art design to this one (the one with her two-toned hair), I adore this bachorlette regardless! A part of it her design, but the other part of it her assertive nature... After all, when I’m not looking to grow together with someone, I’m looking for someone who will help me come out of my shell! (Even if I must be dragged out, which Karen would certainly do.)

Marlin: DS Cute

Gosh... I remember overlooking a lot of bachelors back in the day. I was admittedly kinda shallow as a kid, so I easily looked over plenty of fine guys in favor of the “prettier” ones...ignoring my vague interest in the girls. However, in my endless attempts to see all heart events (cheat codes, babey!)....I ended up really liking Marlin. More than I thought I would.

He’s sickly, but determined to make it on his own. Hating that he’s babied, but acknowledging the fact that being sick is kinda scary for the family who looks after him, his elder sister, Vesta (owner of a popular farm in Forget-Me-Not Valley), and their hired help, Celia.

He blushes cute, is cute, and though I never married him in game, I did consider it. He’s doing his best and is so damn supportive...

Celia: HM DS

Speaking of Celia-!! Talk about one of my earlier girl-crushes! I had feelings for her that I could never pin down, because I didn’t hate her or anything, but I didn’t quite....friend-like her, either. Apparently, it’s because I’m panromantic af. Who would’ve guessed?!

Anyways. She’s cute, oblivious like me, and just as hardworking as Vesta, with all the kindness to look after Marlin w/o taking away his agency and wanting to help others.... Basically, I’m saying that if I F/O any one of these two, the other is coming with. Farming power throuple.

Flora: HM DS

(Belated sidenote that HM DS and DS Cute are the same game, but Different Gender. Natsume was slow on that one for a long while.)

Flora was yet another one of those ladies that I liked, but didn’t know it was because I was actually p gay. Whoops! Anyways, you see this lovely lass working on site with Carter (an older bachelor, for those who have a Type for older men). They’ve been working on this mine site, because...I think there’s some archeological finds down there? It’s been a long time since I played, so I don’t remember much!

....However, strong woman in a tank top and shorts make me a happy, fluster gay and her hair looking as fluffy as it does only intensifies it. (Ah, to lovingly brush off the dust and mud from her face from a long day at work... Clean her glasses for her while she cleans up... [dreamy sigh])

Skye: DS Cute

(oh god, I wrote his name as Skype accidentally, oH NO) Another bachelor I really liked during the early days....though for a long time, it was a toss up on if I Liked him or liked him [to pair with an OC]. While I did eventually pair him with an OC (Claire, the blonde MC option for DS Cute), there’s still a fondness in my heart for him...

And a plot twist, now... His “chick beam” ain’t gonna work on someone who’s not a girl~!

Muffy: HM DS

She’s just....cute. And hardworking. Flirty. The girl at the bar not only helping serve up drinks (to the best of her abilities; she’s learning), but a fun time! Definitely a bit of the stereotypical femme, but good gosh, I’d never want her any other way. Literally the only problem I’d have is I get uncomfortable around drunk people (past issues, fear of potential addictive personality, and drunk ppl are usually Loud People).

Otherwise, I’d love to be supportive of Muffy, her dreams, and how damn cute she looks!! (And relate to fears of getting our hearts broken, but oooohhh it’s got fic potential, that does.)

Keira: HM DS

This lovely lady is not only one of the early-day, special bachelorettes, but mute, as well! Her voice was taken away by the Witch Princess and (with no in game way to get it back for her) she communicates by writing on a board.

....Basically, I want to learn sign language with her and create a peaceful house with her and maybe a bunch of cats. Purrhaps.

Jamie: Magical Melody

(I was no longer able to get sprites/icons from this point forward, sorry!!) This game. Is so difficult...and go figure the one I like the best is the hardest possible spouse to woo! Complete the game, ship out at least one of EVERY crop, have owned one of every animal (at some point), and etc. Oh. My goddess. THE AMOUNT OF WORK TO MARRY SOMEONE YOU CAN’T EVEN KEEP!!!!

....Yeah, uh. All that work and the game resets. No post-marriage bliss for the PC and Jamie. (Who is apparently genderfluid.) I.....augh. In the end, it’s not even their nearly-toxic, tsundere personality that drives me up the wall.... It’s the fact that I can’t marry them and have it stay that way unless I want to write a bunch of fanfiction about it. :/

Meanies. Making me write out all this stuff myself...

Ray: Magical Melody

I feel sorry to say it, but I will: When I learned the game wouldn’t let the player marry Jamie permanently, I sought out someone else...and found comfort in Ray. He’s a well-known fisher and- apparently- has a timeslot on the TV for talking about fishing, too.

It’s a very fish-based lifestyle, but I guess that’s why I play as a farmer, right~? We can bring some variety in to the meal table! (Also, he’s a shy guy. What a cutie~)

Chase: Animal Parade

The reason I got into playing this game....and then everything else solidified my reasons to play forevermore! And to this day, Animal Parade is my favorite HM/SoS game of all time. (Literally the only thing that could’ve made it more perfect would be changing hairstyles/colors... Oh, and gay marriage. Gimme that too, pls.)

ANYWAYS, this asshole is tsundere as hell and a prickly pear, but.... If you can fight past it to befriend him, he’s pretty fun and....I guess dedicated to his work, is the best way I can phrase it. He’s still very much not too “soft” even after marriage (though he can be pretty damn cute), but... Basically, imagine Gordon Ramsey in a dating sim, complete with a redesign. Pretty accurate description of Chase.

I ship him more w/ an OC I have than myself, buuuut he’s still precious to me. In a dorky, tsundere way. (Also, I think about the OC I ship him with all the time... That whole save file was me being dedicated to marrying this man, from the name of the farm to the crops I sold. Goodness!)

Wizard: Animal Parade

The husband. Of all time. Not just for his looks, but also his sweet, quiet, gentle personality. Wizard (who’s real name is not revealed until you marry him) speaks in many ellipses.....some longer...than others.... But he’s also a stargazer. Oh, and implied to be long-lived. Y’know. Things to break your heart with.

I simply cannot put into words how much I adore him. I originally played this game to marry Chase (as I mentioned above), but it was Wizard who stole my heart. He’s been on my F/O list ever since and it’s there he’ll stay!

Harvest King: Animal Parade

One who actually used to be on my F/O list, but I removed him because I thought feelings had faded.....haha, fool. Nobody escapes the king. (Or, well, Harvest God, but y’know. Translation avoiding mentions of “god” and all.)

Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel about him aside from “I like his design” for a long while. He’s got a lot of elements that are aesthetically pleasing to me, but w/o good characterization to back him up... What’s left? (Plus, him not living at home with the PC kinda sucked. Was being a single parent really gonna be okay with me...?)

What ended up breaking my heart and reviving it all at once was his 20 heart line. “After you are gone… I shall love what you loved… I shall sing the songs that you sang.”

He is immortal. He must stay atop the mountain, only able to watch...sneak away, perhaps, when he can. He sees the inevitability of the PC’s death...and fuck. It hurts in the most bittersweet way. To imagine him, alone, years upon thousands of years after they are gone.....and yet, remember them so well. Perhaps still distantly watch over what becomes of his family line...

To love this man is to experience the love and pain of mortal/immortal couples, and- truly- know what the phrase means: “To love and have lost is better than to never love at all.”

Harvest Goddess: Animal Parade

There are many incarnations of the Goddess throughout the HM/SoS series, but this one from AP is a forever fave from me. Her design is gorgeous on so many levels (the looping braid, the ombre in her hair color, her outfit, the wing-like extensions on her back, the large hoop bracelets, etc), her face looks so kind and.......breathtaking beyond words--

And much like Wizard and Harvest King before her, she has a name she can only share with you after marriage. And having that detail be a part of her marriage ceremony is what hits a little harder, I feel. It feels so much more personal to have a name that isn’t just “Harvest Goddess” to call her. (I’m pretty sure some of the other games have done this, too? But again, I personally prefer this iteration!)

....If I ever were to ship with her, I honestly feel like I’d have to do an OT3 w/ Harvest King. He’s a prickly bastard and Harvest Goddess here would likely roll her eyes at him many a time, but... Considering their understanding and eventual love of mortal life, I’d say they could reach an agreement someday.

Toby: Animal Parade

Gosh. Another character I didn’t think much of until later... I wanted to do an LP of Animal Parade and- for the occasion- got obsessed with a new OC to focus on; I named her Elise and framed everything after her around musicians and songs. (Because her name was a reference to Fur Elise.) Of course, I then had to think of who she’d marry....

Toby was not only an option for her, but quickly caught my interest as easily as he caught fish. Though it might’ve helped that he reminded me of another, old anime crush!

Anyways, much like he appears, Toby is a laid back young man. He spends his days happily enjoying his hobby- fishing (he isn’t employed, despite his family owning a business)- and soaking up nature. His heart events reflect this, musing about the tranquility of nature and enjoying the silence and relaxation of fishing. (There’s also a few occasions where he opens his eyes... The color of them is SO pretty!)

And if you marry him? Traditional Japanese wedding attire. He looks so handsome in it~!

Candace: Animal Parade

I just....really like shy girls. And Candace especially makes me feel SO MANY warm fuzzies. Has high social anxiety, but prefers her time be spent in her family’s shop, Sonata Tailoring. She’s a talented worker, and with her grandmother’s help and sister’s guidance, it’s become quite the fashion hotspot! (Well.... Perhaps it’ll do far better after the PC helps heal up the island some more, y’know? The place isn’t doing so hot without help from the Harvest Sprites!)

ALSO, I really, really love her big hair and outfit... Her big braids look so soft and she looks incredibly cozy in her cardigan... Honestly, the cardigan, button up shirt, and skirt alone work together to put together the image of someone shy, yet warm in both personality and in being! (...But I bet her fingers get cold... Gee, suppose I could do something about that...?)

Precious. 100/10, would love to kiss her cheek softly and make her blush while snow falls outside, but we’re in my warm home with a big puppy and the fireplace going.

Vaughn: Island of Happiness/Sunshine Islands

Heehee, tiny. Anyways, meet cowboy husband! Fond of farm animals, his work (delivering farm animals to the island)....and that’s about it. Not really too thrilled about other people, but his whole arc is about warming up to you, anyways, so. It’s one of those, fksjfkls.

He’s REALLY cute, though.... I wish I had more memories w/ him, but I lost the OG file where I married him and we had a kid, so. Heck. :)

William Terry Louis Andrew Carrick Jonathan Dredge Hams Redding Rodger Southwark Alnwick Plymouth Junior Regison III: Sunshine Islands

Yes. Yes, I did need to write out his full name. I married this man and if I have to process that this is my husband’s full name, you do, too. (Seriously, why did they make his name so long?!) This man’s long name aside...

Not only is he your typical rich boy (complete with Big Boat), but he’s also....a prince! Bet you woulda never seen that coming... (And yes, he does have a white horse that he rides around occasionally.) I know I’m roasting him, here, but he deserves it. A little bit. Maybe. Totally not because I can still feel the distant effects of this man flustering me in the past...

(He’s so charming and he has some misguided moments, but goodness, he is just Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass. I love him.)

Lily: Sunshine Islands

Visiting treasure hunter, adorkable, and with a way of finding her next great adventure. She’s so lively! And lovely! Maybe she should look into a mirror and find out the great treasure of all is herself!!!

Okay, that was pretty cheesy.

Regardless, she’s a delight, I love her character, and any jealousy I might’ve had towards her in the past? Gone for deep feelings of, “Let me love you and let’s create the greatest treasure collection of all~!”

Angelo: Grand Bazaar

I remember Angelo not quite being my first choice when I got Grand Bazaar. He seemed adorable, and having another artist around is always a plus, but... I simply wasn’t sure if I should go through with it. Would he impress me that much?

...In the end, he did. I remember being with my cousins when I stumbled into his final heart event, freaking out and hurrying to write it down! (I had a habit of writing down the dialogue to every heart event I witnessed. I have some of them still, to this day!)

He’s far more of a well-rounded artist than I am, but I think that’s just another thing to love about him. Well, that, and a difficulty handling people when he needs them to stop! (It’s relatable, is what I mean; telling people off- even if you really need to- is hard! Especially when it’s a kid!) He’s just....a ton of fun at the end of the day. And that fluffy hair...... You know I love it~!

Emiko: Grand Bazaar

I never got to meet Emiko, to my memory. I didn’t play Grand Bazaar a lot, nor for too long, as the learning curve for the bazaar was steep. (I wasn’t much one for learning recipes, and then they wanted me to learn how to peddle my wares?! And sometimes, it went by so fast!!! It was super overwhelming...) However, she’s a special bachelorette, so getting to meet her at all would’ve been a surprise/struggle for the me who fought trying to learn the bazaar alone...

Looking on her here and now... She. Is. Adorable. Hard to woo, but a secret shrine-area behind the waterfall? The last heart event is letting her see the world for herself...? I love that so much. Getting to re-experience the world through a new view is something I treasure dearly, and Emiko is just that...along with being super adorable. I harp on it because it’s true!!

Maybe someday, if I try the game again with more success... I’ll play as a guy just to court Emiko.

Cam: Tale of Two Towns

Literally the reason I bought this game in the first place, LMAO! He looked really cute and hearing that he worked at a flower shop? How could I ever resist?! The scene was set up for adorableness and potential romance (based around flowers) and so I was eagerly swept away~!

And he does live up to that sweet, charming air...while also being a bit social anxious; how relatable!

Kana: Tale of Two Towns

I haven’t played this game in forever, but if there was anything to ever remember about it..... Kana is a himbo. This man works with horses, so he is strong. Respects women. His dummy part kicks in because this man rarely thinks of anything else except horses (we stan this man and his hyperfixation). You can befriend him with gifts of horse treats.

Marrying this man is marrying him AND getting a free horse-sister out of it (her name is Hayate) and with arms like that? What a dream come true, on all sides.

Nori: Tale of Two Towns

Local seamstress and assistant to her grandfather at his seed shop. Honestly... She kinda reminds me of myself. Although while I’ve quieted down in some ways, I’ve stayed lively in others! I mostly just need friends around to bring my energy up, instead of producing it fresh, myself, ehehe.

But seriously... Her kindness goes above and beyond, perfectionist anxiety is relatable, and it just...sounds nice to put together a life with her. Helping others, helping each other, helping ourselves. Wow.

Reina: Tale of Two Towns

The botanist who- much like someone else- hyperfixates on her work until the world around her is white noise. While it is a shame to feel like you’re not being listened to and your S/O is lost in her work... Honestly, the thought of learning about plants from her has me losing it. Also, a home filled with perfectly cared-for plants? MAJOR serotonin.

It’s like.....the ideal cottagecore couple, just with more farming involved. (Personally, for me, the image of cottagecore has always been small, personal gardens and not the sprawling estate of land-for-crops (and animals!) that HM puts out.) One of us will be making cute journals...or maybe it’s both of us? She does aesthetic research journals and I do cute, personal ones? With poems and such?

UGH. Just call me a simp and get it over with.

Sanjay: A New Beginning

Do I even have to say it? How fast I fell for this man? Because I shouldn’t. I’m incredibly predictable with my tastes and they will likely never change.

Anywho. Butler to Amir (another potential bachelor), but all I wanted was this soft-hearted, gentle man who looks out for everyone, is incredibly kind and friendly, and loves tea a whole bunch. His long hair, put into a braid.... [sighs dreamily] How ever am I going to cope...?

I never did finish ANB, but I want to! Because this man is SO HANDSOME and I wanna put a ring on it. (Sorry, Amir! You might need to employ someone else! Thanks, bye!)

Inari: Trio of Towns

This one came from a recommendation, one I wasn’t at all expecting...and now I’m “stuck” with this one. And don’t want them to let go.

They remind me of two previous spouses already on the list: Harvest King/Goddess and Jamie. The latter for their gender being undefined until marriage (where the game will then either dress Inari up in masculine marriage clothes or feminine marriage clothes, to be the opposite gender to the PC). The former checks out in that- like them and many other special candidates- Inari will not live at home with the player. It breaks my heart, but the reward itself is seeing this lovely fox deity learn how to love, to be willing to put their heart on the line, and even have a child.

I couldn’t be happier to be introduced to this game in such a way. Consider my first save slot dedicated to you, darling kitsune~! (And a spot for you on the F/O list sometime soon, too!)

Yuzuki: Trio of Towns

“I won’t fall in love with another bachelor,” I lied, lyingly. “I will just be in love with Inari. Nobody else.” A fool, I was. Predictable, as all times before. I read a little too much into a character....and suddenly, a proposal comb is being slapped into my hand. Dammit!

Being the fan-favorite occasionally helps my interest in certain characters, but what always gets me in the end...is that personality. Oh, and does Yuzuki deliver... Not only is he a kind, supportive man with his own business, but said business is making hairpins! His grandmother usually helps model them, but more and more during your romancing does your PC model for him, instead. (Literally the first piece you model he made SPECIFICALLY with you in mind, oh my god.)

But wait! There’s more! Being a model that knocks him breathless...and shows a surprising bit of ego. (Not a bad thing, but definitely not a vice I was expecting from him!) So many cute lines. Goodness.

....I admittedly just watched the heart/flower events, so I’m SOFT.

[thechocoboos]

Strawberries

I’ve had Stardew Valley and Harvest Moon on the brain thanks to @angelic-guardienne and so this was born. I’m a slut for farming sims, but I’m also a wh0re for Cor, so enjoy.

Courting your love interest? More like CORting him 

Pairing: Cor/Reader Words: 1886 Genre: Fluff

Cor was a simple man with a simple life. He woke up at dawn every morning just to stand out under the sun, clearing his fields and tending to his crops and cattle as he had done his whole life. It was all he cared about, doing the best he could to have a successful farm.

At least, it was all he cared about until you came along.

He hadn’t thought much of the new person in town, not even when he met you. But then, you approached him one day, introducing yourself once more and asking him for some advice on growing strawberries. There was a bright look in your eyes and the cutest smile on your face, all of which radiated the utmost excitement and interest. He thought it was refreshing, someone actually interested in the care that goes into growing crops. However, having it come from the newest arrival in town left him more confused than not, but a certain sense of curiosity came with it.

The next time he passed your house, there was a fresh patch of strawberry plants growing in your yard, and the old house had a nice yard for the first time in twenty years. It had caught him off guard, seeing new flowers and bushes growing and the lawn freshly mowed, but the sight left him pleasantly surprised. His curiosity grew.

Cor didn’t have another conversation with you for a while beyond brief nods on his part and smiles from you as you two locked eyes across the street.

However, as that spring came to a close, there was a knock on his front door one afternoon. He had finished up his morning chores early and was finally taking some time to himself, only to open his door to you standing there.

There was light sunburn coating your cheeks, your eyes bright and a basket of familiar red berries hanging from your hands. “Hi, Cor!”

He was surprised, his blue eyes widened slightly and his lips parted in a small “o” of surprise. 

“So, I got my first batch of strawberries and there were a lot of them…” You let out a nervous chuckle, slightly intimidated by the farmer in front of you. He looked nice in a thin red flannel and jeans, but you tried not to think about that. “As a thank you for your advice, I wanted to bring some by?” You held the basket out to him, your cheeks flushing for reasons other than your sunburn.

Cor wasn’t met with situations like this. He was a lone farmer who didn’t really hang around anyone, beyond maybe Regis and Clarus who were usually busy with their own town functions. He gingerly took the basket, looking rather stunned. It wasn’t often someone did something this kind for him. “Thank you,” He said, voice warm, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“Well, uh, that’s it, so--I’ll just head out then.” You managed to say, not thinking this far into the plan. Bobbing your head awkwardly, turned to leave, giving him a small wave and praying that you didn’t do something weird.

Cor watched you leave, the basket in one hand as he vaguely wondered why his heart was beating so fast.

He went for the strawberries later that evening and found a note attached to them. It was written in messy handwriting, the letters uneven and sloppy, but the words themselves endearing.

“Cor, thanks for your tips on the strawberries! Clarus mentioned that you were a big fan of them, so I thought it might be nice to give you some as a thank you. Forever thankful, your neighbor and their new green thumb”

It was cute. And so was the tiny strawberry doodled in the corner of the index card. Cor wasn’t even aware of his small smile until he bit into the first strawberry, his smile growing. It wasn’t the best strawberry in the world, but it was sweet and not too firm--very good for a beginner. The thought of your bashful smile as you presented the thoughtful gift to him made him smile even more, and he hoped that he could cross paths with you again soon.

A week later, Cor was harvesting some crops of his own. He recalled Clarus mentioning how “that new kid” was struggling with growing vegetables, knowing that the “new kid” was most certainly you. Setting a few turnips and cabbages aside, he made a mental note to return the strawberry favor, and he did.

A few days later, there was a basket at your front door. Cor was admittedly too nervous to give it to you in person, but he told himself that he was simply too busy to try and track you down, trying to squash the butterflies in his stomach the whole time.

The basket was full of turnips and cabbages, and as you dug further into it, there were a few turnip seeds and even a couple cabbage seeds, all attached to a note of his own. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, describing in detail how to care for turnips and cabbages.

“Clarus mentioned you were having trouble, thought these might help.” He wrote, signing off with a simple “Cor”. The note was simple, but the fully grown vegetables in the basket warmed your heart.

It was with that gift that a habit was formed between the two of you. You both began to swap crops and notes, hardly ever in person. You gave him blueberries and cranberries, cookies and muffins (especially after you found out that he had a soft spot for berry muffins). In return, he liked to leave fresh dairy products from his animals on your doorstep. Sometimes he left you other produce as well: fresh corn, plump tomatoes, soft peaches, and sweet potatoes. There wasn’t always a note, but when there was, it was always treasured. 

You two grew closer through your gift-giving, and when you saw each other in person, your conversations were enjoyable on both sides, despite how warm your blushing cheeks were.

A year of gift exchanges passed before a gift was given to you in person.

One of the spring festivals had been approaching, and a few days before the annual spring dance, someone came knocking at your front door. You were surprised to find Cor standing there, a slightly sheepish look on his face as he held his own basket of strawberries. 

There was a light blush on his cheeks, barely visible through his tan. He was wearing one of his stupidly cute flannels, the sleeves just rolled up past his elbows. The sight of his farmer’s tan made you want to giggle slightly, although the serious look in his blue eyes kept you on your toes.

He cleared his throat, “Morning, He coughed awkwardly, trying to keep his eyes on you. 

“Morning, Cor.” You smiled, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “It’s not often I get to see you.”

He nodded, clearing his throat again. “I, uh, figured I should stop by in person for this,” He told you, holding out the basket of freshly picked strawberries. “Just got my first harvest for this spring, and I, uh, thought you might like to try the strawberries.”

You gingerly took the basket from him, smiling. The strawberries were bright and plump, looking absolutely wonderful. “Thank you, Cor, that’s really nice of you,” You told him, trying to squander your blush. Just a year ago, you had been the one in his place, giving him your first strawberries as you stood awkwardly on his own porch. It was nice having the roles reversed. You glanced back up at him, smiling, “I might try my hand at making some strawberry cake with these for the festival.”

The perfect segway.

“About the festival,” Cor began, feeling his cheeks growing warmer and his heart beat faster. He tried to squash those stupid butterflies in his stomach, but the second you looked back up at him, your gaze so curious, he fell even harder. “It’s pretty customary for folks to go to the dance in pairs--and, uh,” Astrals, why was he so bad at this? “I was wondering if you’d like to go with me. It--it doesn’t have to be a date, but…” He left the sentence hanging.

There was a beat of silence. Honestly, you were surprised, your eyes slightly wide and stunned. You never thought that he’d ask you--honestly, you thought you would’ve had to ask him. 

Cor felt himself panicking as the seconds ticked by, your lack of response terrifying him. He only found relief as your shock morphed into a smile, your cheeks glowing with a bright pink blush as you nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.” You said, your own stomach filling with butterflies and your eyes even brighter. “As a date, if you’d be comfortable with that.” You added, your blush growing as your smile grew shy.

Cor’s face broke out into a smile, “I’d like that,” He said, letting out a breath of relief. His heart was hammering against his chest, and as he left, a stupidly big smile on his face, he couldn’t wait for the festival. 

Your date went swimmingly. That day, you two danced together, his calloused hands warm against your waist. With each step, you two grew closer and closer, your smiles both shy but your eyes bright. 

And that evening, you both kissed; it was the first of many. His lips were slightly chapped, but the kiss was soft and delicate in the moonlight, his rough hands so gentle on your cheeks and you found yourself wishing for more as he left you breathless. Luckily, you did get more over the years, many, many more kisses with embraces to accompany them.

Cor is still a simple man with a simple life, but now, he has you with him.

He still wakes up at the crack of dawn, but he likes to linger in bed with his arm over your waist, your soft breath warm against his chest and the thought of leaving you in the morning enough to make him just a bit late to let the cattle out. 

He loves to see you working on your beautiful garden outside of your shared house, smiling as you pat down the dirt around fresh flowers and guiltily rip weeds out from between the bushes.

The two of you spend the evenings curled up in the living room, quietly leaning against each other as you two read and occasionally watch the television, the house sometimes filled with quiet music or your hushed voices. 

He now likes to take many, many breaks throughout the day just to go inside and see your cute smile and to get soft kisses. It always gives him just enough of his energy back to finish his chores, and those few days where he didn’t take frequent breaks for your hugs, you made sure to go out yourself to give them.

Now, he doesn’t only care about tending to crops and caring for his cattle. He still loves it, just as much as he always has, but now he lives his life to care about you, too. And he still leaves out baskets of strawberries on the counter every morning, just for you. 

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 27: On the Farm (Transcript) - 8th February 2016

tw: murder, incest, abuse, gore

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

In 1943, Abraham Maslow gifted the world with his list of five core essentials that every human being has in common. Today, we call that chart “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs”, and it’s still a framework for how we understand and study much of human behaviour today. That list includes a few obvious entries, such as our psychological needs and our desires for love and affection. There are deeper concepts, too, like self-actualisation and esteem. They’re just as important, but a bit harder for many people to understand at first glance. But it’s the last item on the list that I want to focus on. It almost seems too obvious to be there, but at the same time, it has a bit of everything. It’s basic yet complex; it straddles the line, and maybe that’s why it’s so important to all of us. What is it? Safety. Humans like to feel safe. Our pursuit of safety is core to who we are as people. It’s not unique to humans, for sure – animals are very good at finding and building homes wherever they can, but it’s undeniable that safety drives a lot of our decisions, and rightly so. We deserve to feel safe – one could argue that it’s a subset of freedom. When we are fully in control of our own lives, a portion of that control will always be diverted towards safety. We find safety in many different places, though. We find it in a group of friends because, as every horror movie has taught us, there’s safety in numbers. We find it in places like our work or schools and religious buildings, although those are admittedly much less safe today than they were a generation ago. But it’s in our homes that we find the most safety. We nest there, in a sense – we build a cocoon around ourselves that protects us from the weather, from outsiders, and from harm. But tragically, sometimes that’s not enough. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

No one liked Andreas Gruber. They thought the old farmer was greedy, and the public perception of the man was that he was rude and cranky. He was an old, crusty farmer, and no one around him appreciated that very much. Gruber was 63 and his wife, Cäzilia, was 72. They lived on their farm, about 40 miles north of Munich, between the small, German towns of Ingolstadt and Schrobenhausen. It wasn’t their farm, though. No, it belonged to their daughter, 35-year-old Viktoria, who lived there on the farm with them, along with her two young children. Her daughter, Cäzilia, was seven, and Josef was two, and it was Josef’s birth that really got the neighbours talking. Viktoria’s husband, Karl, had left to serve in the First World War in 1914 while she was pregnant with their daughter. According to all reports, he died there in the trenches and never returned – so who fathered Josef? Local gossip, fuelled by a dislike of Andreas Gruber, claimed the boy was a product of incest between Viktoria and her father. The birth certificate, though, simply listed the initials “L.S.”, leaving the boy’s paternity a mystery to wonder and whisper over. The farm provided ample privacy from the gossip, though. It sat in a large clearing in the thick, German forest, close enough to nearby Kaifeck to be part of the village, yet far enough away to be outside the normal flow of life there – hinter, as the Germans would say. The farm was hinter, or behind the village of Kaifeck, so most called it Hinterkaifeck. They still interacted with the village, though. Young Cäzilia attended school six days a week there, the postman delivered mail to the farm regularly, and a local woman even lived with the Grubers as their maid. From everything I’ve read about the family, the seemed to be nothing more than ordinary. Sure, they were broken in certain ways – Viktoria’s lost husband, Andreas’ reputation as a greedy crank were hard to miss – but overall, they were just one more German farm family, doing their best to get by.

In the Autumn of 1921, the Gruber’s maid quit her job there on the farm. She claimed, of all things, that the farm was haunted. She’d heard noises when no one else should have been around; she noticed items that had been moved, items that no one else would admit to; she never felt alone. It took a while to find a replacement, and in the meantime, winter arrived. Life on the farm became more insular. There were no crops to tend to, so the Grubers cared for their animals and stayed warm. But little things were beginning to happen that caught their attention, things that shouldn’t be happening, and it made them wonder if maybe, just maybe, their old maid had been right. They began to hear those same noises in the attic. Andreas even found a newspaper in the house that he had no memory of buying. When he asked his wife and daughter, they were just as baffled. And then, one of the house keys went missing. It was unsettling to say the least. In late March of 1922, though, Andreas noticed the most unusual thing of all. He’d been outside the house to fetch something, perhaps firewood, or to check on the exterior of the house. The night before had given them another fresh layer of snow on the ground, so perhaps he needed to inspect the roof – we don’t really know. But as he walked from the house to the barn, Andreas claimed he saw footprints in the snow. They started at the edge of the forest and covered the distance between the trees and the house, ending there. Perhaps a traveller passed through in the night, maybe a local had been walking through the snow and gotten lost – it happened from time to time. But what was odd about the tracks was that they didn’t go back, they just… ended there. We know all of this because Gruber himself told some of the locals while he was in town that next day. He was clearly disturbed by the things he had seen, but none of his neighbours had experienced anything similar. And that was the last time anyone saw the old farmer alive.

The first clue that anything odd was going on, at least to the people of Kaifeck, was when little Cäzilia failed to show up for school on Saturday, April 1st. The next day, the entire family was absent from church where they attended – pardon the pun – religiously. Cäzilia missed school on Monday as well. Finally, when the postman arrived on Tuesday, he found Monday’s mail still on the porch where he left it. This drew his suspicion, and he mentioned it back in the village. The people there put the pieces together and decided that something had to be amiss, so later that day, a group of neighbours gathered together, and they quickly set off to visit the farm. You know how muffled and quiet it can get outside when there’s been a lot of snow, as if the sounds of the world around you have been muted and hushed? I imagine that those men were keenly aware of that unnatural silence, standing there outside the Gruber farmhouse that day. One of the men shouted out for Andreas, or anyone else in the house, to come out and speak with them. They just wanted to make sure everyone was safe and well, but no one answered – just more of that muted, snow-covered silence. Not giving up, one of the neighbours – a local man named Lorenz Schlittenbauer – led the group to the barn. It was daylight, so perhaps Andreas could be found working in there with the animals, but when they opened the door they were greeted by a grizzly sight. There, on the straw-covered flaw, lay the bloody bodies of Andreas, his wife and daughter, and young Cäzilia. It was clear that something horrible had happened to the family, and Schlittenbauer quickly walked from the barn to the house, which were connected by a door. Inside, he found more bloodshed. Maria Baumgartner, the new maid who had started work on the farm just the previous day, lay dead in her own bedroom. Little Josef, last to be found, had met the same fate. It was a scene of devastation and gore, and it left the men stunned. Within a matter of hours, investigators from Munich arrived to go over the scene and gather evidence. They wanted to piece together what had happened, to discover the story, to find clues that might point to the person, or people, responsible. What they did uncover, though, was far more disturbing than answers.

It appeared that each of the adults in the barn had been led there, one at a time. Whoever the killer had been, they had appeared to call each person into the barn alone, where they executed them with a farm tool known as a mattock, a sort of pickaxe used for cutting. Each blow to the head was powerful and deadly, and each victim most likely died instantly. The bodies inside the house had the same type of wounds: Maria and Josef were found in pools of their own blood, their skulls crushed by their attacker. As far as the police were concerned, whoever wielded the weapon knew how to use it, and they did so without hesitation. This was cold-blooded murder, without a doubt. The trouble was, the weapon seemed to be missing, it was just gone. Other aspects of the crime didn’t seem to line up with logic. For one, there seemed to be no motive behind the actions of the killer. It was known to a few in the village that, just weeks before, Viktoria had withdrawn all of her savings, borrowed more from her dead husband’s sister, and brought the cash home. She told people that she planned to invest in the farm. She even made a large 700-mark donation to the village church. All of the remaining money was still there in the house – the killer hadn’t taken it, nor had they taken any of the other valuables that filled the farmhouse. Nothing was stolen. Whoever had called the Grubers into the barn, whoever had swung the pickaxe and ended all of their lives, they weren’t interested in money. Another detail that seemed odd was the condition of the house and the farm. In most instances, a killer will flee the scene after the crime has been committed, but here, there were signs to the contrary. The animals in the barn appeared to have been fed and watered throughout the weekend, and not by an amateur, either. Whoever had tended them knew his way around a farm. Most disturbing of all, though, were the reports from neighbours that smoke had been seen rising from the chimney of the farmhouse all through the weekend. Food had been eaten, and one of the beds had even been slept in. It was hard to believe, but the facts didn’t lie. The Gruber family’s killer didn’t run; instead, he stayed in the house long after the bodies had turned cold, as if nothing had happened at all.

The question, of course, was a simple one: who could do such a thing? But this was 1922, CSI wasn’t a thing that existed yet, there was no DNA analysis available to the investigators. Even fingerprint identification was too young to have reached the farmlands of German Bavaria, but even if there had been better tools, there were other obstacles to uncovering the truth. The local men who initially stumbled across the bodies, led by Lorenz Schlittenbauer, had disturbed much of the crime scene. While the maid and young Josef had each been covered with cloth by the killer, the bodies in the barn had actually been stacked like lumber. On top of this macabre pile, the killer had placed an old door and then hay had been scattered over it in an attempt to hide it. So, when Schlittenbauer entered the barn with the others, he actually lifted the door and began to move the bodies, making a full and accurate investigation impossible. According to those who watched him, Schlittenbauer lifted and moved the corpses with no emotion or hesitation, as if the sight of it didn’t bother him at all – or, maybe, wasn’t new to him. And it was that, along with some other, subtle clues, that quickly moved him to the top of the list of suspects. Why would he do this, though? Well, he told one of the men that he moved the bodies because he was looking for his son. Think back for a moment. Remember the questionable parentage of young Josef, whose birth certificate simply listed one “L.S.” as the father? Numerous neighbour testimonies made it clear that Lorenz Schlittenbauer was L.S., and that went a long way to explaining why he led the men from the barn, into the house – he’d been looking for his son, Josef. But according to some of the men with him that day, the door between the barn and the kitchen had been locked. They knew that because Schlittenbauer pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, which was more than a little curious, seeing as how Gruber had mentioned in town that one of his house keys had gone missing. And one final bit: the family dog was seen by the postman on the day before, where he had been tied to a corner of the barn outside. When the men arrived on Tuesday, though, they found it in the barn, wounded but alive. When it saw Schlittenbauer, the animal barked uncontrollably.

All of the clues seemed odd and out of place; they make your mind perk up and feel like something deeper was going on, but at face value they prove nothing at all, and that’s the frustrating part. The dog might have just been barking because of the bodies. Schlittenbauer might have had a key simply because he was the Gruber’s closest neighbour. Like I said, these clues were subtle, and that’s why he was never formally charged with the crime. As for motive, some people believe that Viktoria had sued Lorenz for alimony, and the man had refused. Clearly, Viktoria needed money shortly before the murders, as her bank withdrawal suggested, but historians are doubtful. The most likely reality, they believe, is that Josef’s father was none other than his grandfather, Andreas, and the arrangement with Lorenz simply an effort to save face in the village. Alternative theories have been suggested. There are some that believe that Viktoria’s husband Karl did not, in fact, die during World War I. No body was ever recovered or sent home, and a friend of Karl’s even testified later to seeing him alive in the mid-20s. Some people wonder, could Karl have had a hand in the murders, perhaps out of anger toward Viktoria’s relationship with Schlittenbauer while he was away at war? I’ve even read another theory that claims that Andreas had been waiting for an important letter of some kind. I can’t find more than a mention of it, but what if the killer and the letter were connected? That might explain why he stayed in the house for days after the murders – he’d been waiting to intercept whatever the letter contained. One last thought: by all accounts, the killer had been in or around the Gruber home many times before the events of March 31st. The Gruber’s former maid had quit her job because she said she felt the place was haunted. There had been the unrecognised newspaper, the odd noises, missing keys… weeks and weeks of unusual activity that eventually led up to the day of the murders. The day, mind you, that the new maid started working there. Maria Baumgartner had been killed just hours after arriving for her first day on the job. It makes you wonder: did her arrival upset the plans of whoever it was who seemed to be stalking the Gruber family? Did she see him, and pay with her life?

Hinterkaifeck has the feel of a cabin in the woods, the centrepiece of many a horror film and novel – a place of retreat, far from the demands and prying eyes of the outside world, where we could go to get away; a place where we can find safety in the middle of an unsafe wilderness; a home away from home. We want to feel safe, and thankfully most of us do, but there’s just enough risk on the outsides of the bell-curve that we’re always left wondering, what if? And that’s how fear works, it sits in a dark corner at the edge of our minds and watches. We know it’s not going to step out into the light, but we can feel it glaring at us from the dark. I can’t help but wonder if the Grubers ever had that sensation during those last few months, if maybe there had been moments when Andreas just couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Did Viktoria have moments where she felt like she wasn’t alone? We’ll never know the answers to those questions, though. And one more tiny mystery: the physician who performed the autopsies on all six victims had their heads removed and sent to Munich for further study. Some reports claim that a clairvoyant was part of that research, but I can’t find proof of that. Their bodies were buried nearby in what is now modern-day Waidhofen, but their skulls remained in Munich and were eventually lost in the chaos of World War II. Today, the farm in the woods is little more than a memory. All that is left today is a small memorial, but over the year that followed the tragedy there, it stood empty like a crypt in the middle of that clearing in the forest – a constant reminder to the neighbours who passed by of all the people they lost and of the violence that had visited their small village, and maybe that’s why they finally tore it down in 1923. Maybe they couldn’t stand to look at it again. Maybe it needed upkeep that required going inside, but no one was willing to do that. Maybe they just wanted to move on and forget. Whatever the true reason was, it was only after the farm was torn down that the murder weapon was finally discovered. One of the men found it among the debris at the top of the pile, mixed in with items that had been in storage. It had been hidden inside the house all along, in the last place that anyone would look: the attic.

[Closing statements]

[whispersafterdusk]

Raven Among Wolves - ch 1

Vilkas often found himself jerking awake with the remnants of a nightmare quickly fading from memory - they were dreams born out of the restlessness of the beast blood that ran through his veins and were as familiar to him as the weight of his own armor; this morning was no different, and as he usually did when awakened so abruptly he took a moment to lay there in the darkness of his room, quiet and still, listening and sensing for any trouble.

The first thing he noticed was a new scent on the air. ((Continued below cut))

It was subtle and calm, and the sort of earthy smell that happened after a good hard rain.  Vilkas was certain he'd never smelled anything like that within Jorrvaskr's halls and after some time spent laying there deeply breathing it in he roused himself and stood, stepping into his boots before pushing his door open and moving out into the short hallway that separated his room from his twin's.

His heightened sense of hearing could detect a murmur of voices nearby - one he recognized as Kodlak's, and coming from what he assumed was the Harbinger's room that was at the far end of the larger hall that ran beneath Jorrvaskr and connected all the living quarters. The second voice was feminine and one he definitely didn't recognize; the rainy scent was much stronger out here compared to in his room behind a closed door and there was a "green" undertone to it that reminded him of Arcadia's shop.

The voices continued to murmur and he heard a soft laugh as well - he wondered why the old man would have anyone in his room at this hour, much less a woman.  He crossed the short distance from his door to the main hallway right as he heard Kodlak's door open.

"-time to read through it," the woman's voice was saying.  "I can come back later this afternoon."

"Very well, child," Kodlak said.  "Though, you realize that's not needed."

"You should have the time to fully consider this...even I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, and I was afraid you'd turn me away."

"I turn no one away without giving them a chance to speak their piece."

Vilkas stepped out into the hall then stopped in his tracks when his gaze fell on the woman standing there with Kodlak.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on; her hair was black, tied into a tail high on the back of her head and shining in the candlelight.  She had pale, fair skin, free of scars or markings, and when she'd turned her head toward him and their gazes met he found himself staring at eyes that were a vivid sapphire in color.   She was slender and not that tall, dressed in rough traveling gear of various shades of brown and had a heavy pack at her left hip that hung from a strap that was slung over her right shoulder and across her chest.

Vilkas took all this in and stared dumbly - all words and thoughts had completely abandoned him; the woman noticed him staring and frowned at him before turning her attention back to Kodlak.

"I will return."

Kodlak nodded to her; Vilkas stumbled a bit to step out of her way but couldn't tear his attention away from her as she walked toward him, then passed him and down the hallway to disappear through the door that lead to the stairs.  The earthy scent overwhelmed him as she brushed by and he finally had the sense to feel slightly embarrassed at the sudden lightheaded feeling that came with it.

"Who...  Who was that?" he finally asked.

Kodlak laughed at his dazed tone, shaking his head.  Vilkas finally turned around to look at him; the elder held a book in his hands that was bound in plain leather, with no title that he could see.

"If she is to be believed, she is family," Kodlak answered.

----------------------------------------------------

He didn't see her again until later that evening.

The doors to Jorrvaskr had opened with a rush of her rainy, earthy scent; it had immediately caught his attention and Vilkas watched silently as she crossed the room to where Kodlak sat.  The man stood with a smile and gestured for her to approach, then had led her toward the back doors and out into the space behind Jorrvaskr where there were tables and benches, as well as straw training dummies.

When Aela clapped a hand to his shoulder he'd flinched and nearly fallen out of his chair.

"What?" he snapped.

Aela seemed a bit surprised at his tone - and he hadn't meant to sound that...harsh, he supposed.   "Did you not hear a word I just said?"

"I- no.  I was thinking of something else.  What is it?"

"A pair of giants were sighted near Pelagia's farm.  He's paying a rather large sum of coin for someone to get rid of them - grab your sword and let's go."

"Aye," he muttered, standing to follow her.

Outside of Jorrvaskr the light breeze had whisked away any remnant of the woman's scent and somehow Vilkas found that more distracting than its presence; he took a deep breath of the fresh air and brought his mind back around to the thought of the hunt - to the battle they were hurrying toward.  Giants were no laughing matter and the closer they got the more excited he grew as that familiar rush of adrenaline began course through him. Underneath the adrenaline was also a healthy dose of caution and a few distant memories of a pair of unfortunate guards and a newly recruited Companion...it was best to not let excitement get the best of his judgement or else he'd meet his end with his skull caved in.

When they arrived at Pelagia's farm they immediately spotted the two giants -- one appeared to be wandering off, thankfully, but the other was gleefully attacking the cattle and chickens and in the process was trampling the crops as well.

Vilkas glanced to either side of him - Farkas and Ria were to his left, and Aela to his right.

"Let's circle that second one," he said, moving one hand in a semi-circle to indicate he was more speaking to Farkas and Ria.  "That other seems to be moving away.  It's best if we try not to take them both at once even if that other comes back."

Farkas nodded and moved off without a word - he rarely questioned Vilkas's orders - and Ria followed a moment after.  Aela smoothly pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, nodding to him.

While Ria was new to them the three members of the Circle had fought together hundreds of times - they knew each others skills, habits, and had learned to adjust on the fly as needed to protect and shield one another as the battlefield shifted and changed; Vilkas drew his sword with a practiced ease and, with a bellow, charged for the giant.  He had no actual intention of actually closing in with the giant with his charge -- the shout was simply to draw the thing's attention toward him so Farkas and Ria could flank it without the damned thing noticing; as he'd hoped the giant turned toward him with a roar of its own, and as Vilkas skidded to a halt and the giant began to stomp toward him his hair ruffled with the passing wind of a fired arrow that sprouted from the giant's shoulder an instant later.

With his sword held up in a guard Vilkas backpedaled a few yards, trusting to his feet to find steady ground as the giant came rushing toward him only to stumble when Ria's hammer found its knee.  It turned and swung its stone-topped club in the same motion but the woman was already moving out of the way, leaping aside and back to let the club swing by harmlessly.  The wide swing had left an opening in the giant's defenses and Farkas darted in, bringing his sword down in a two-handed, overhead jab that sank deeply into the giant's calf then tore outward as the man ducked a swung fist and ripped his weapon free as he danced out of the giant's reach.

As the giant focused on Ria and Farkas it steadily turned its back to Vilkas and Aela; arrow after arrow was finding its mark but giants were thick-skinned so the shots weren't penetrating all that deeply.   Leaving Aela to her bow Vilkas rushed forward the remaining distance and brought his sword slicing down at a diagonal, scraping along the skin from shoulder blade to the hip -- despite the sharpness of his weapon he too didn't manage to cut very deep and quickly reversed his grip to stab down at the legs like Farkas had.

"Watch it!"

Vilkas heard the call before he felt the incoming stomps or saw the second giant; there was a sudden loud thud of impact then he felt his stomach drop out through his feet when Farkas went tumbling away - body in one direction, weapon in another.

Ria was flat on her back on the ground and as the second giant raised its club over her suddenly one of Aela's arrows struck it directly in the eye; with an ear-shattering howl of pain the giant let the club drop to the ground and clutched at its face.

With the scent of fresh blood on the air and the rush of fear over seeing Farkas thrown aside the beast blood surged in him -- he could shift forms right now, tear these giants to pieces, their strength would be no match for his strength and speed, he-

Vilkas could feel his muscles twitching - he was balanced on a knife's edge, his body and instincts wanting to transform.  Maybe he would have, if Ria hadn't been there; her presence was enough for him to force the urges down, deny them...it had been so difficult lately to ignore the call of the blood that he honestly believed he would have slipped here if...

The thought worried him but now wasn't the time to consider it - not with Ria still not on her feet and with Farkas -- well, he shouldn't think about THAT either, not just yet.

The giant in front of him was stumbling from the stab wound and the gash Farkas had put in its leg and was ponderously turning around to face Vilkas.  He sidestepped to stay out of the giant's direct reach, continuing to harass it with jabs and slices as Aela continued to fire over his shoulder -- she was targeting the creature's face, as she had the other, but the giant's head was proving harder to hit as it swung and moved to try and seize Vilkas with its free hand or crush him into the dirt with the club it carried.

Around the giant's hip he could spot Ria hopping around the second giant, staying out of the reach of its frenzied swings; the pain of the arrow embedded in its eye had just made the thing angry and hadn't slowed it in the slightest but had at least made it sloppy and inaccurate with its blows.  Not far behind them - with Ria between him and the giant - Farkas dragged himself along the ground with one arm, shoving with his feet, face pale and with a huge dent in the left side of his chest plate.

The sight of his injured twin again threatened to push Vilkas over the edge and slip into his wolf form; a sudden, unexpected swing of the giant's club nearly took his head from his shoulders as his focus slipped.  Growling through gritted teeth he drove forward and skewered the giant's thigh, then was forced to abandon the weapon as the giant came alarmingly close to grabbing him.

The two-handed sword, crafted of skyforge steel, wasn't his sole weapon thankfully; in a scabbard on his waist was a skyforge steel short sword, and while it would be next to useless fighting the giants it was better than going entirely without.  Vilkas held the sword up and rested the flat of the blade against his palm -- he had a shield on his back as well but that WOULD be incredibly useless here (he knew it would crumple in one direct blow).

One of Aela's shots finally found its mark and sank deeply into the giant's throat; it let out a gargling noise - somewhere halfway between a roar and drowning - and Vilkas dove in to shove the shortsword into its belly, driving it in two thirds of the way to the hilt before leaping backward and out of the way of the large hand swinging for him.  The giant's own momentum knocked it off balance and it dropped to its knees and before Vilkas could react suddenly Aela was at his side with the long-bladed hunting knife she favored -- she brought it slashing in in a tight arc and sent a spray of blood into the air as she expertly slit the giant's throat.

Vilkas ripped the great sword free as the giant fell forward, toppling onto the short sword and driving it deeper.  With that giant dead they turned their attention to the second one that Ria was keeping entertained; blood was running down its face and it had gotten much worse with its attacks -- Ria hardly had to duck or otherwise move to avoid the swinging hands.  Vilkas hefted his sword and charged, tip first, and drove the sword into the giant's spine, digging his feet into the dirt and rock beneath him to put as much force behind the attack as he could muster.

The giant dropped forward, catching itself on its hands with its legs bent underneath it and unmoving.  Ria surged forward and cracked her mace into its head at the temple, then brought it around to smash it atop the skull; the giant dropped to the ground with a groan, the arrow in its eye digging in deeper briefly before the shaft snapped as it fell facefirst into the ground.  Vilkas planted a boot into the giant's back and pulled his sword free, then stepped around to bring it slicing down into the back of the neck, severing the head.

"Farkas!"

Vilkas didn't pause to clean his sword before snapping it back into the holder on his back and rushing over to where Farkas lay on the ground, propped up by an elbow and struggling to breathe.

Ria hurried up behind him, staring down at Farkas with a half angry, half anxious look.  "Why did you do that?  It was my fault for not seeing it come up behind us!"

"Shut up, argue it later," Vilkas snapped.  He reached out for Farkas and the man extended a shaking hand to him and a half smile.  "Can you walk?"

His twin's face was deathly pale and his breathing was shallow and uneven; Farkas shook his head after a moment, not able to get enough air into him to speak.  Vilkas nodded in understanding and moved behind him, sliding hands into his armpits to help him slowly sit up; his breath hitched repeatedly and he hugged his arms to his chest as he wheezed.

Vilkas felt a mild sense of dread but refused to let it show on his face.  "Come on, up with you.  We shall get you to the temple for some mending.  Imagine - you can tell the others you survived a giant's blow!"

Farkas managed a weak chuckle but still didn't speak; Ria helped get him to his feet, then with an arm around her shoulders and one over Vilkas's they slowly began to half-carry him back toward Whiterun.  The longer they walked the worse Farkas's breathing became, and the more pained noises he made; Vilkas could feel his teeth grating against one another and forced himself to unclench his jaw.

The temple...they would mend him at the temple.

It was a long, slow (and for Vilkas, terrifying) walk back to Whiterun; Farkas hardly seemed conscious at that point, and he labored to breathe.  

"Just a bit further, brother."

Farkas nodded - Vilkas took it as a promising sign that he was still awake.  They stepped through the gates and despite the smell of blood and sweat -- there it was again.  HER scent.

"I wish all my orders were this easy."

Right inside of Whiterun's gates was the blacksmith shop Warmaiden's, owned by Adrianne Avenicci.  The Imperial woman stood at her forge with a lantern in hand - the glass was shattered and the little door that you swung open to light the wick inside was snapped off; that woman was standing nearby, buckling her pack shut with a smile.

They would have to pass by slightly to get to the sloping street that would take them up to the back door of the temple (Vilkas had no desire to carry or make Farkas walk all the way through the market, then up all of those stairs -- the street was a steep incline, and a slightly longer path, but it wasn't stairs and that was all that mattered).   Vilkas tore his gaze away from the woman and focused on his brother and on putting one foot in front of the other; the woman noticed their little procession however and after a quick nod to Adrianne hurried toward them.

"What happened to him?"

Vilkas opened his mouth to reply and found he couldn't force a word out or look directly at her without feeling his face flush.

'Damn it, this is not the time,' came his angry thought - directed at himself, of course.

"A giant - it managed to clip him with its club," Ria answered.  Vilkas felt a rush of appreciation toward her.

The woman's brow furrowed and she sped up her steps to hop in front of them, gaze roaming over Farkas as she walked backwards to keep pace with them.  "-that sounds like broken ribs.  I can mend that, if we can get him somewhere and lay him flat."

"You can?" Vilkas asked - he was surprised he'd managed the words, and forced himself to look her in the face.

"Aye.  If you can get him over to the inn we can put him in the bed I've bought for the evening.  It's a closer, easier walk than to the temple."

Ria craned her neck to glance to Vilkas with a questioning look but it was Aela that answered instead.  "If you can mend it like you claim."  She didn't sound completely convinced, and there was a bit of doubt that managed to cut through the cloud in Vilkas's head...but with his twin still struggling to breathe he supposed he was willing to try anything.

The raven-haired woman ducked around them and took off at a brisk pace toward the Bannered Mare; they followed much more slowly but she was waiting for them just inside the inn, then led them toward the room she'd rented.  There wasn't a single indication that anyone was even staying here - everything was so neat and tidy - aside from the rain scent that clung to the woman; they carefully lowered Farkas down onto the side of the bed, then Vilkas helped lift his legs up and lay him down.

There was a loud thud that he heard as well as felt through the soles of his boots as the woman dropped her pack to the floor, then she was shouldering him aside and bending over Farkas on the bed; Farkas seemed to be breathing easier now that he was flat and resting and it eased some of the fear knotted in Vilkas's stomach, only for it to be replaced with a shy nervousness as he watched the woman lay a gentle hand on his brother's forehead.

She then bent nearly in half to press her ear to his chest; Vilkas felt a heat rush to his ears and a sudden surge of jealousy that caught him by surprise.

He stepped back and away to give her room to work and to clear his head.  'What the hell is wrong with me?'

"This is well within my skill to heal," she said after a moment of listening.  She straightened and began to feel around for the straps holding the badly dented breast plate on; once she got the buckles to release she let it drop to the floor at her feet then returned her hand to Farkas's forehead, pressing her palm flat.

There was a glimmer of pale light along her fingertips before Farkas's eyes drooped closed and he seemed to relax into the bed.

"What did you do?" Aela asked from where she stood at the door, arms crossed and watching skeptically.

"Put him to sleep - this will hurt a lot less this way," the woman answered.

She moved both hands to Farkas's chest then, sliding under the sweat-soaked undershirt to feel along bare skin; even in his sleep Farkas let out a pained groan as her fingers found the nasty bruise that took up half of his left side.  The glow of magic from this spell was considerably brighter than the one that had put him to sleep; Vilkas had to turn his head away from the harsh, golden glare, and while he was looking at the wall he heard three sickening wet pops and a garbled gasp -- Farkas's eyes flew open with a moan and his head lifted briefly from the straw pillow before he collapsed back flat and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry-" the woman said.  The glow was rapidly fading from her and she pulled her hands from beneath his shirt, reaching up to brush his hair back.  "It would have been a lot worse but you'll be fine now with a few days of rest.  No fighting, nothing too strenuous...try not to lift anything heavier than a mug."  

Farkas looked a little less pale and completely exhausted; under the stroke of her hand through his hair his eyelids slipped closed again -- Vilkas was relieved to hear him breathing more evenly, and deeper.

The woman bent down and picked up the breast plate, looking it over.  "I'm honestly kind of shocked he wasn't killed."

Ria looked a bit guilty at that; Aela moved forward to take the breast plate.  "You'd be surprised what a true warrior can endure."  She looked to Farkas on the bed.  "Can we move him?"

"Well, yes, but I think he's gone back to sleep.  Might be best to just let him lay and wake up on his own unless you're determined to get him back to his own bed right away."

"He - he can stay," Vilkas blurted out.  "For now.  I will stay with him." The three women turned to look at him and he felt his ears burning again.  "It is as she said - best to let him wake on his own.  Yes?"   He swallowed hard and looked to the raven-haired woman.

She nodded to him.  "That WOULD be best, but again if you're dead set on moving him it won't do any harm either.  Just make sure he takes it easy for a few days."

Aela nodded at that, then looked to Ria.  "Unless you plan on staying as well I suggest we return to Jorrvaskr."

Ria glanced to Farkas with another guilty look before shaking her head and moving to follow Aela out of the room; Vilkas stared down blankly at Farkas's feet, listening to their retreating footsteps until any sounds of them faded in with the general chatter and sounds of the patrons downstairs. When he was certain they were definitely gone he looked up to the woman, feeling awkward.

"Ah..."

She turned from him and bent to her pack on the floor, reaching in to pull a thick tome free.  "You're welcome to sit up here.  I'll be within earshot if you need anything.  I promise, he'll be fine."

Before he could manage a response she was through the door and down the stairs.  A distinct feeling of disappointment filled him - in himself mostly, but also at the fact she hadn't stayed up here - and with a sigh he dropped onto the edge of the bed near his brother's feet.

'I could follow her.  Talk to her,' he repeated over and over in his mind but he couldn't bring himself to stand up and go; the thought brought on a nervousness he'd never felt before with anyone, and upon reflection he felt a sort of frustration with himself over it.  He'd faced down giants, bears, bandit clans, and had survived more than a few clashes with the damned Silver Hand...and yet, something about this one woman had him pausing, uncertain about himself and for the life of him he wasn't clear on why -- he'd seen plenty of beautiful women (and yes, he did find this one highly attractive), and love at first sight only happened in bard's tales.  He'd never hesitated like this for any other woman...why this now?  It's not like a woman like her would even look twice at him and she was probably married, anyway.

That she might be married brought a bit of peace to his mind, enough so that he was starting to doze off himself when Farkas finally stirred; after a moment to wake up some they stood and left, and Vilkas offered the woman a small wave when he spotted her in the back corner of the inn -- she hardly acknowledged him before returning her attention to the book open in her lap.  

Outside, as they slowly walked up to Jorrvaskr, Vilkas breathed in the clear night air and was thankful that the rain he smelled was a storm on the horizon instead.

[ashleighgardner-blog1]

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The absolute most amazing things concerning this Hay Day hacker is it offers anti ban support, proxy support, and it includes an extremely straightforward user interface. Another means is to restart the app. If you're on your computer, connect your cell phone with USB to your PC. Type of Hay Day Hack The effect operates by making use of a sheet of glass or perspex on which the true object is reflected. For starters, don't confuse inexpensive imitation tequila that you're able to become back home with a number of the more quality tequilas that you are able to get in Mexico. The user will have the ability to generate any sum of diamonds and coins in the game. Get The Treasure The previous tip I'll offer you is to aid you in getting treasure from treasure chests. There are lots of choices for layers under the fleece. After some other farmer buys some wood you will receive 500,000 parts of gold. 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Avoid alfalfa hays, since they are too high in calcium. These crops take hours to yield in order that they will be growing as you're sleeping. This diet is made for weight reduction, but it is going to clear up your mind, make you sharper, and provide you with more energy for whatever your task might be. Well, you may want to brush up on their diet requirements if you're planning on befriending one! Attempt to return to nap and bedtime routines once possibleknowing that it may take a couple of days and cause a few tears. You hold your book in your own hands for the very first moment. No time slot is too small, so long as you adhere to it. It's possible to farm more in a day if you prefer. The Advantages of Hay Day Hack When you have changed the farm name next you should click the choice of blue star available near to the peak of the farm. At the end, you can locate a listing of the animals that go with diverse decades, and the characteristics of somebody born that year. Be patient with the horse, and you are going to be rewarded. You may even do all of the horses in the barn. Water bottles for smaller animals are a bit tough to be wholly cleaned, despite a little brush or dishwasher (if the bottle is dishwasher-safe). If your pet is aware you're in the practice of giving them medicine, they will end up upset and contrary. Get the Scoop on Hay Day Hack Before You're Too Late It's possible to also find, and after that add friends, utilizing the Game Center in iOS devices. Therefore, should you wish to generate a lot of in-game resources for Hay Day hack by using a secured tool then look no more! You are able to utilize Hay Day Cheats as a way to acquire more Coins and level up faster. The cheats are devised in such a manner which they can be used over and over again without fail to enrich your gaming experience without having to spend real money. It does require a lot of thinking for it's not just a repetitive game, but a very intuitive one. Have a look at this guide for tips and techniques about how to capture Celebi as soon as possible! New Step by Step Roadmap for Hay Day Hack You hold your book in your own hands for the very first moment. No time slot is too small, so long as you adhere to it. It's possible to farm more in a day if you prefer. Whispered Hay Day Hack Secrets Setting your advertising budget to equal a particular proportion of your revenues isn't necessarily the appropriate method to do it. You should plan to devote a little cash across each marketing or advertising channel for a couple months, simply to collect data. Alternatively, you should establish your advertising budget based on data in order to reach your particular goals for growth. A good deal of players are spending their money to receive them. It is a game which revolves around managing resources as a way to make a good outcome. Ask a regional gymnastics group to execute. 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A Startling Fact about Hay Day Hack Uncovered If you're found out to be cutting turf, you will receive a very large fine. Therefore making it far more habit forming. It is possible to also use exactly the same technique if you'd like to with a number of other things. Additionally, moisture can ruin loft by creating your layers stick together (thereby eliminating that fine heat bubble). Well, you may want to brush up on their diet requirements if you're planning on befriending one! If hay, a peaceful setting, the perfect diet program and attention from you don't block the hair chewing, then it might be time for you to arrange a haircut. A History of Hay Day Hack Refuted This Hay Day hack tool is simply available on our site so make certain to use it here and not anywhere else to be sure it is working and legit. Tom is a good way to earn money fast on Hay Day. Hay Day Cheats is the only website in the market that truly works. Facts, Fiction and Hay Day Hack When you have changed the farm name next you should click the choice of blue star available near to the peak of the farm. At the end, you can locate a listing of the animals that go with diverse decades, and the characteristics of somebody born that year. Be patient with the horse, and you are going to be rewarded. You may even do all of the horses in the barn. Water bottles for smaller animals are a bit tough to be wholly cleaned, despite a little brush or dishwasher (if the bottle is dishwasher-safe). Some tips go a very long way in producing your Pets happy too. Vital Pieces of Hay Day Hack

There are a number of hay day hack apparatus that may hack hay day diversion and offer you hay day coins and precious stones without a cash.  Furthermore, if you continue including your optimum number of coins together with diamonds there might be a little danger of you obtaining captured.  To assist you in that quest, here are a couple of ways you're able to score diamonds. Get The Treasure The previous tip I'll offer you is to aid you in getting treasure from treasure chests.  If you are interested in an easy and speedy procedure to acquire diamonds and gold coins then you ought to choose the help ofHay Day Hacktools and software readily available in the industry.  One must be hooked up to cell phone in order to claim items. The Honest to Goodness Truth on Hay Day Hack

The event made headline news all over the world.  The only reasonable choice is to sell your games for money.  You are able to utilize Hay Day Cheats as a way to acquire more Coins and level up faster. When you save your character, the game will ask you when you would like to continue even though you haven't employed all of your points.  Game cheats are extremely common these days to make certain that you don't ran out of cash or other items which are important to gamers.  If you enjoy playing games including Farmville and Green Day, etc then you're certainly going to love playing Hay Day. Hay Day Hack

But that isn't the situation right here.  There you will discover orders in which people wish to purchase something from you.  You see people will listen if we've got something worth saying and should they have the opportunity to listen. { Things You Won't Like About Hay Day Hack and Things You Will

If you have many employees that are weekend gardeners, encourage them to display their prize produce.  There are a few additional matters you can purchase along with store-bought treats.  All you need to do is adjust with the current atmosphere.

[deddyinfo]

7 Things You Can BURY in the GARDEN to Improve the Soil

7 Things You Can BURY in the GARDEN to Improve the Soil

Janay i’m mark from social eyesight me and i love to bury things in the garden it not only cures the environment by reducing waste and landfill it saves on buying fertilizer and other expensive additives to improve your soil so here are seven of the main things i like to bury in the garden

let’s get into it[ Music] number 1 swine as an animal carcass decomposes in the garden it turns into a rich fertilizer that can be utilized by your weeds the beginning system of your weeds in this case banana trees will literally “re going through” and suck out the nutrients it needs I’ve submerge my bazaar share of animals in the plot such as chickens doves toads fish heads

and now even a kangaroo at the end of last year Nina my wife was driving to work early in the morning went out of nowhere hop-skip a kangaroo right in front of a automobile she did everything she could to avoid it but unfortunately just like numerous Australians knowledge at least once in their life she concealed the kangaroo and it couldn’t be revitalized of course Nina rang me and she was a bit shaken so I drove out to check that she was okay and instead of leaving the animal on the road I took it back home and the one thing I had at the time which was a reusable supermarket pocket which I never reused after that I might supplement then I submerge the kangaroo in the pet cemetery and it came back to life no that fraction isn’t true I lay the kangaroo right here underneath the banana trees and since

then we’ve had a banana boom simply a few points to note when you do this make sure you dig a penetrating enough hole and treat with enough clay relevant to the size of the animal to prevent any bad fragrances and I recommend flooding further with a roadblock such as ball rock-and-rolls to stop wild puppies or other animals trying to dig it up also for gigantic animals this method works best with result trees or large flowers like bananas and of course I’m not saying you should fling off a perfectly health animal exactly to use it in the garden-variety but if the circumstances grow such as an age-old chicken stops off the perch well you might as well get

that one last-place employ out of it yes it is sad when swine get ill or come to a premature intention like young Skippy the kangaroo now but on a positive mention he did make good bananas number two is eggs as we know eggs are so versatile they can be used to establish mayonnaise cakes pasta hashed out to move more fowls or simply gobbled as is in many different ways but did you know that eggs likewise make an excellent

fertilizer for plants it’s true eggs contain calcium phosphorus magnesium nitrogen zinc copper and many other nutrients beneficial to plant growth you’ve probably heard about the benefits of eggshells in the plot but entire eggs are even better except who wants to waste whole eggs in the garden-variety well firstly you might find using eggs in this way cheaper then buying commercial fertilizer pound-for-pound however we tend to use eggs that have been soiled cracked or age-old I’ll take up and testify you a really good example real experience I left out duck to collect her eggs in the hope that she might be participating in them and hatch out some ducklings for us but she’s a little bit young and instead she’s compiled some of them but the majority of members of them ought to have sowed around by the chickens and she’s not sitting on them so instead what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna collect them all they’re all around the place one there three here one over there one

near where you are I’m gonna collect them up and use them in the garden-variety and the last one check them out look at how unclean some of these are just rolling around on the poop storey gardeners will often dig a excavation like this you know about 30 centimeters deep like a few eggs in interrupt them and then cover that fault over delightful and good pat it down then use a affix so they can identify where that defect is for later then come back in about several weeks maybe a month or two and then they know that they can plant a tomato capsicum or any vegetable certainly over the priorities in that and they don’t even need to use fertilizer personally I simply drivel them anywhere in the plot excavate a opening at random don’t even bother marking them and often I will only plant tomatoes straight

immediately over freshly seeded eggs into the garden and I’ve had good results with that number three animal trash or dungs one of the most common and natural ways to fertilize the plot is by using animal manures that have been left to break down and compost and get really old in a neat cool smudge like this under some Hessian for several months until they’ve broken down and then they can be applied into the garden you are eligible to submerge fresh manure in the garden you just can’t originate anything in that place for several weeks maybe months until it breaks down if you get managed business dung fertilizer it’s usually scattered on the surface around flowers but when we collect

our own excrements from animals the material is larger and less center often these kinds of excrement is best dug into the garden and combined with the clay basically buried into the garden berthed so that it does not clog burn or crust up meeting it better overall for the seeds my favorite manures are cow horse poultry but other shoot swine like sheep and even rabbits etc are good to cat and pup poop can be composted down but not embed instantly into the garden on purpose regardles I’m not a big love either way of feline and puppy debris it’s too close to human waste for me to use in the garden and I’d be worried about spreading nasty pathogens throughout the veggie patch but that’s just my view whereas farm animals have a enormously different compost compatibility because they eat little protein and have a more plant-based diet number four is kitchen scraps you may remember my video what happens when you submerge kitchen scraps in the plot well in this spot here is where the beginning of that video was and where I moved a batch of kitchen scraps in a gutter here and that awfully season I ripened a bumper cultivate of tomatoes so what we should do is dig this up and see if there’s anything left of those scraps that I put in there get in there I can start accompanying some eggshell that’s probably the last thing that would ever break down not basically nothing except for a few eggshells

but you have to remember this was buried a good 12 months ago and it’s not surprising to me that you won’t discovery any real fragments of anything except for a few calcium segments of eggshell which are a lot harder to break down but it gets still utilized by flowers believe it or not and they only need a little bit micronutrients to boost their own immune system and change better yes we also compost kitchen scraps in the usual way in a compost pile ora tumbler but this reductions out the middleman and I calculate is a marvelous practice to do it number five is coffee and

tea debris both coffee and tea are good to use in a plot either dug in sprinkled around or implanted altogether into the garden bed most people know about the benefits of used coffee feet and whether “youre using” your or get them from a neighbourhood cafe it’s all good honestly we use chocolate pods and precisely can’t chuck them into the garden however we do use two tea leaves have about twice as much nitrogen phosphorus and potassium than coffee grinds all these elements are key fertilizer parts for bushes tea also contains calcium magnesium cast-iron and zinc which all are good for seeds and help them to absorb nutrients they’re for submerge coffee and tea

trashes in the garden is worth the effort but do go easy on the beverage in the garden-variety because a little bit is good but too much in one spot might up the asipi of the grime and if that happens that can make it difficult for bushes to actually assimilate the nutrients so it has the opposite effect so I would recommend if you are going to add coffee anchors and tea leaves into the garden spread them around a bit number 6 is garden squander the first instinct of most gardeners is to compost this down and that is a top route to recycle but light-green litter like this can also be hid directly

into the garden berthed old floras and even weeds that have not gone to seed can be dug into the ground as a light-green excrement to rich the clay I even go one further and very larger green litter such as adheres and logs to create Hugo culture style grew beds that help to retain moisture and create a healthy environment for beneficial animals microbes and fungu digging in certain floras can even help to eradicate pests for example excavating in agricultural crops of marigolds to further reduce nematodes in the grime list seven are lice yes I know that insects are technically service animals I could have clothed them in number one nonetheless when I applied these lice into the garden they’re alive so I think it’s different

I also wanted lice to be last-place to make this one particularly important point one of the main reasons I embed all this stuff in our menu garden-variety is to feed our lice I analyse our entire garden-variety like it’s one big worm farm and now I’m gonna leant these foals back in so I don’t stress them out too much how do I use these insects in the plot well whenever I find a worm outside of the garden such as digging around the property I’ll collect them and inter them into the veggie patch but I’ve also found another way to grow and lent snakes and that’s through inoculation I buy some worm eggs and seed them into a collection of dung for them to hatch out and have a worm party this does two things it breaks down and directs the manure over to become better plant food and then when

I go to use it in the garden it populates the bunks with extra lice now I’m not independent experts on insects thankfully and I do know that composting worms are often different to the insects that you get in the regular garden but there is a common belief out there that compost lice won’t survive into the regular garden-variety and that is simply wrong there are many different types of insects including different types of composting worms composting snakes will merrily live in the regular garden-variety as long as they have food and lay things in the garden

variety gives your snakes all the food they need for them to turn those pieces into better soil structure and nutrients for your seeds you don’t have to buy insects most of the time if you have a dung pile that’s open or a compost locality that’s open to the field you will attract snakes from around your belonging and they’ll multiply in those areas although if you do want to head start or if insects are scarce in your arena buying some lice or worm eggs and computing them to your compost compost pile

or garden bed could be worthwhile time remember to feed them one final point about embed things in the garden don’t overdo it don’t turn your plot berthed into a minefield of crumbling material because that won’t do your embeds better now as that cloth breaks down in mass generates gases and heat and that’s not helpful for your embeds swelling so hurl all your excess waste in here besides my top seven do you hide other things in the garden to reach your plants develop better if you do whack them down in the comments segment below so we can all read

and learn from them and don’t say your grandparents I’ve heard that one before if you liked this article

  Read More: Planting& Growing Flower Bulbs: How to Dig Store Tuberous Begonias

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[fessel-vox]

more word vomit and idea yeeting

A red herring cabbage seller for a mafia.

 Like, there’s a mafia, and there’s this farmer dude posted all the way in another country, and a ton of the mafia’s associations end up on that farmer’s giant plot of land. The cabbage farmer doesn’t mind the company of the FBI and police and usually ends up inviting them into her house, but the FBI and police are so bloody suspicious because like, wh???? There’s so many pecking things all leading to this one cabbage farmer, there MUST be some sort of relation to this terrible and amazingly hidden mafia and this humble cabbage farmer. The cabbage farmer, herself, admits every time that she doesn’t know of having any relations with anyone from any mafia, and she’s telling the truth! Sometimes she’d get customers from the next country, and a couple of her friends come by and visit, but that’s it. And that’s the thing. Every single customer is from the mafia, very much in disguise, because her produce is just so pecking good, and the leader of the mafia loves it so much that they keep telling all of these people to visit this place, specifically. Of course, false hints leading to this area of farm land being the base of the mafia’s operations are dropped, but nobody is able to state with confidence that this farmer woman has any relations with the mafia.

The boss of this mafia absolutely loves their salad, that’s been established, but they also have a love of basically anything to do with plants. That’s right, The Boss of this mafia is vegan and she’s proud of it. Just about all of the red herrings she leaves behind are plant and lettuce related. She has over seventy alternate and business email accounts and all of them are related to lettuce or general produce. She has tons of plants within where ever she works, and none of them are plastic. Actually, she despises plastic plants so much, that anyone that owns them instantly get written onto her list of people on her bad side, if she finds out they’re those types of people. You can’t just purchase beauty. You have to cultivate it, care for it, nurture it as it grows. The Boss very much integrates this mindset into her work. You can’t just purchase a family, nor power. She has accumulated lots and lots of wealth, and distributes it to her workers somewhat generously, but she still tries to make her ‘family’ understand that you can’t just purchase something and you’ll become improved. You need to be able to put your heart into something and care a bit about it. That way, you’ll end up that much richer than you were before you took the risk of caring. Of course, plants may die despite your best efforts, and it’d be so much safer to buy a plastic plant, but where’s the fun in that?

The Boss understands that to have things come easy is to have things be shallow. When she walks into the homes of new clients, she makes sure to assess everything; how they choose to present themselves, the things within their home, the state of their home, etc. I have writer’s block, I have writer’s block, I have writer’s block, I have writer’s block, I have writer’s block

Oh yes, and I presume The Boss would actually very much enjoy dancing. Formally dancing, of course. I wonder if I could use the fact that she’s a cat as a metaphor somehow… Not someone who’s on the bottom for sure, but she understands that there’s bigger things out there, therefore, it’s best to stay low and enjoy what she has while watching her back.

Her ‘family’ mainly comprises of people who were formerly down on their luck, and most of her clients are only temporary, since she understands they may need something yet don’t want to be affiliated with her business or practices. She’s okay with that ant understands, but at times, if she feels like someone might be very fit for working for her, she’d extend an offer to them for a job.

I definitely feel like, yes, she’s had troubles with the law and has done some not-particularly-cash-money stuff, and haha the ‘business’ she runs is called the Meowfia, but she does try to be clean with the people she works with, allowing them the opportunity to not get caught up in the Meowfia. She’s powerful and intimidating, but has gained the trust and respect of many people. I wonder what her past may have been like…

Maybe not that good, poor? Heck, maybe she started out having a dream of being a police officer, but as some stuff happened, she ended up falling into the world of crime, therefore getting a bit deeper down on her luck. Despite the trouble, after many years, maybe over ten, she managed to amass a community of people she could trust. She became a leader to them, and more people who ended up one way or another being at odds with the law turned to her and her family, and she’d help them out. Sometimes she’s been turn on by people, and that has made her a bit more cold and ready to take a step back from the feelings of excitement of having a new client or member of the Meowfia. Her family eventually became an empire, one that she intended to maintain. There were days were it was difficult, where multiple people would slip up and/or break her trust, possibly putting the Meowfia at risk, and there were days where she’d be absolutely, terribly stressed. Maybe she’d have a right-hand-person, and on days where she’d take a break that person would take the wheel.

On some days where she gets terribly stressed, she’d dress up as someone more humble, compared to her usual choice of a suit and other formal attire, and go to another country. She’d take a while to breathe, and catch up with someone who had a much slower lifestyle, enjoying some of the finest vegetables and salad she’d ever taste. It was nice to spend a few days with her farmer friend, and the friend, Peony, felt the same whenever she came to visit. Sometimes Peony would mention having to deal with the police again last month, and The Boss would chuckle a bit and apologize.

“Oh, but it’s really no big deal, Beda! I invited them in for some tea, and they were really impressed with it. -Speaking of which, want me to give you some more?”

“Sure… and thanks,” Peony went to get the tea kettle and came back.

“Oh, it’s really no trouble,” “No, it’s not that-- but, thankyou for the tea, as well-”

Beda watched as she refilled the tea cup and smiled a bit.

“It’s…”

For helping keep my business hidden and not asking me about it at all, understanding that it’s for the best you don’t know? Allowing me to stay here even though I have a terrible track record? Treating me so kindly and /genuinely/, something that has been getting harder and harder to come by?

“It’s.. for everything, thankyou,”

“Oh, no problem!”

Peony put the tea kettle back and returned to the lounge chair next to the one Beda was sitting in on the front porch.

The Boss wasn’t entirely sure why she does all this for her, though. Sure, The Boss does work very diligently behind the scenes, too, to make sure that her.. Her business partner, this farmer, was safe, but Peony-- she didn’t /have/ to smile so sweetly almost every time they were together, or accept the Boss’ gifts with so much appreciation, or even just allow The Boss to stay more than a few hours.

Heck, she didn’t even know why she trusted this farmer so much… Putting so much trust in people was risky, lately.

But anyways, they were both sitting on the porch, and it felt just so relaxing. It was truly what both of them needed. Of course, neither of them were entirely aware that what they both needed was to be with each other, but either way, The Boss finally felt at peace, and Peony was reminded that the world has so, so many mysteries and excitement, and that it wasn’t all simply this plot of land.

Of course, she /did/ love her job of farming and tending for crops, and looking after her chickens, goats, and other animals, but sometimes it’d feel like.. She wasn’t doing enough. She’d spend an entire day working and yet somehow still feel like she wasn’t doing enough with her life. She didn’t /want/ to feel this way, that was for sure, and yet, some days, this feeling of no accomplishment clung to her horribly… There were days where the loneliness, instead of being comforting, wasn’t exactly so, and it felt like the whole world was this farm.

Don’t get her wrong though, there were days where she felt at peace with what she was doing, and enjoyed it very much! Caring for her animals and tending to crops was meditative, and she enjoys all the time to think quite a bit. She’s really thought about a lot, too.. Maybe she took a class or two in philosophy, but one thing for sure was that she had a lot of books in her house, many of which have been read multiple times over, with an uncountable amount of annotations, notes, and little illustrations within that she drew, and sometimes painted, herself.

Sometimes she’d give a painting or drawing to The Boss as a gift, and The Boss would be a bit confused. Was she-- was she selling this to her? Of course, she didn’t have a single problem with buying anything from Peony. Heck, she even paid almost double for anything she bought from her in a silent way of saying thanks.

“No, silly, I’m giving it to you!” Peony giggled in that lovely, appreciative, light-hearted way, and continued on, “I thought you might like it, since I noticed you were taking a shine to Oreo.”

“Really-?” The Boss asked. 

She couldn’t believe it, and couldn’t help but smile as she admired the warm painting of a black and white chicken. She was going to hang it in her home, no doubt.

“Wow, I,” She chuckled a bit, giving the painting another look and smoothing out her whiskers before admitting, “I didn’t know it was that obvious..”

“Of course it was! You think I wouldn’t know by the look on your face when that little rascal jumped onto your lap?” 

“Okay, you got a point there. Still, I can’t just take this for /free/-”

“Of course you can! Go on, it’s about time you get something without anybody expecting anything in return.”