#good farm land for sale

[justmewondering56]

do you have a notebook to record bioeffective acts of natural chemical growth?

[aimfarmlands]

Farm Real Estate Investing - AIM Farmlands

Due to increased consumer demand and disposable income, Turkey's food sector industry has been steadily growing in recent years. Agriculture historically has always been a stable investment, and the country provides incentives for those who wish to invest; these incentives include government-advantageous regulations, taxing systems, and investment incentives. Currently, at our company, AIM Farmlands, we provide you with the Farm Real Estate Investing opportunity to invest in farmlands, with exciting projects in Manisa and Antalya.

[english-history-trip]

Portrait of an unidentified young woman by Wenceslaus Hollar, 1645

The reason why we should remember Cattelena, who lived in Almondsbury near Bristol, is that she is one of the few African women to have left a record in the rural Britain of the seventeenth century. All we have is the inventory of her goods at her death in 1625: a cow worth £3, a bed, a quilt, a candlestick, four pots, dishes and spoons, ‘all her wearing apparel’, a coffer and two little boxes. It amounted to £6, 9 shillings and sixpence. She was not wealthy, but she was supporting herself, with the aid of her cow and her labour. She was single, like one in five of the women of seventeenth-century England, and she appointed another woman as her executor. Her name – only a first name was given - suggests she had arrived in Bristol via Spain. That’s all we know, but it’s enough to change our picture of the English countryside.

Almondsbury is a small village close to Bristol. At the time Cattelena lived there at least another 16 Africans lived in Bristol. Just like Phylis Setterford, the way we know about Cattelena is because of the inventory of her possessions after her death. She is described as ‘Cattelena, a negra deceased of Almonsbury in the county of Gloucester, single woman & in the diocese of Bristol’. Her inventory includes cooking utensils, clothes, bedding, tablecloth, and a candlestick. However, Cattelena’s most prized possession was a cow. One cow would keep her in milk and butter, as well as provide an income through the sale of dairy products in the local area. Cattelena would have been able to graze her cow on common village land. This would provide her the opportunity of independence and self-sufficiency. Dairying was women’s work. With around 80% of people living in the countryside, it could be a serious income generator. On a farm you would have one dairymaid to six cows. Anything greater would require more servants, and a herd typically had no more than twelve cows. The best hours for milking were between 5-6am and 6-7pm. From Whitsun (May) to Michaelmas (end of September), a cow could produce a gallon of milk a day, which could be used to make a range of ‘white meats’ – meaning cheese and butter. Catellena’s cow was worth £3 10 shillings, £460.32 in today’s money. In 1625, the year Cattelena died, this would have also bought you 10 stones of wool, a quarter of wheat, and was the equivalent of 70 days of skilled labour. In Tudor times, cows were given names. Some reflected their function, as well as the owner's sense of humour. Eleanor Cumpayne of Halesowen, Worcestershire, inherited a cow named Fillpayle from her father George in 1559. Was this name an order shouted at the cow or a compliment for how productive she was? Other cow names recorded include Gentle, Brown Snout, Lovely, Motherlike, Winsome, and Welcome Home. There is no record of Cattelena’s cow having been given a name, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t, as this wasn’t a typical thing to record in an inventory. There is no furniture in Cattelena’s inventory. This could suggest that she rented a room in someone else’s home. This could be the home of a widow named Helen Ford, who was named as administrator to Cattelena’s estate. Cattelena was unmarried but this was not unusual, with around 30% of the English adult female population single. However, it was rare for single women to live in their own home and only about 5% of single women below the age of 45 were head of their own households. Naming Helen Ford as her administrator suggests she was not living with relatives. The total of Catellena’s possessions was valued at £6 9s 6d (£851.59). The existence of Cattelena’s inventory shows us that Black Tudor women could own property themselves and live independent lives. It is significant that as a woman she owned anything at all, it indicates her relative independence. Not only was she not enslaved, but thanks to her cow she seems to have been able to support herself and was free from service or any family obligation. Imagining Cattelena, a dark skinned, independent woman, going about her day-to-day business, preparing her meals, cleaning her bedding, milking her cow, in her rural village makes us imagine English life of the past in a completely new way. She was independent, but she lived an ordinary life, much like most other Tudors.

[roo-bastmoon]

Our "Why"

If you want to manifest something, you've got to feel the feelings of it already being a reality, until it is made real.

I know why I stream and buy and share tutorials and vote like an unhinged obsessed person, even though I have crazy work and school deadlines.

It's because this very kind-hearted, highly intelligent, extremely talented, breathtakingly humble young man needs to know.

He needs to KNOW his Hot100 wasn't a fluke. It wasn't bots. It wasn't stream farms. It wasn't random luck.

He needs to know that no matter how many haters (online or in the industry) try and mess with him, we have his back. We will show up.

Next week, during that short window of time when soldiers get to look at their cell phones, he should lie down on his bed, open up that screen, check to see how things went, perhaps a little nauseated with nerves...

And see nothing but pure love and triumph! High charting. Sales that make him untouchable. Reviews that rave about his vision and his skill.

He should know in the marrow of his bones.

The thousands of hours of practice, of going back to the basics, of having a hand in every element of design, the physical and mental strain, the raw, aching fatigue--it was all worth it. He's seen. He's appreciated. He's understood.

I do all this because I want a good person to KNOW they are loved for being good. That despite all the corruption and heartache in this world, good things still happen to good people.

I don't want to brag to antis or other kpop stans. I don't want to crow about Jimin's accolades because I feel superior or more powerful. I don't want to feel like *I* accomplished something, here.

I want to be able to sleep peaceful when this done, sure that we all did our best, gave every inch, crossed every barrier, stayed the course and kept going...

All to get Jimin safely landed so securely in success that no one questions his value or his artistic choices ever again -- least of all him.

Do you know your Why?

Manifest it.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A purplish-grey stew topped with olive oil and garnished with piles of pomegranate seeds. Plates of green peppers, bitter olives, olive oil, taboon bread, green onions, radishes, and za'tar surround the dish. The second image is a close-up of the same stew. End ID]

رمانية / Rummāniyya (Palestinian pomegranate stew)

Rummaniyya (رُمَّانِيَّة; also transliterated "rumaniyya," "rummaniya," and "rummaniyeh") is a Palestinian stew or dip made from lentils, eggplant, and pomegranate seeds, flavored with nutty red tahina and a zesty, spicy دُقَّة (dugga) of dill seeds, garlic, and peppers. A طشة (ṭsha), or tempering, of olive oil and onion or garlic is sometimes added.

"Rummaniyya," roughly "pomegranate-y," comes from رُمَّان‎ ("rummān") "pomegranate," plus the abstract noun suffix ـِيَّة ("iyya"); the dish is also known as حبّة رُمَّانَة ("ḥabbat rommāna"), or "pomegranate seeds." It is a seasonal dish that is made at the end of summer and the beginning of fall, when pomegranates are still green, unripe, and sour.

This stew is considered to be one of the most iconic, historic, and beloved of Palestinian dishes by people from Gaza, Yaffa, and Al-Ludd. Pomegranates—their seeds, their juice, and a thick syrup made from reducing the juice down—are integral to Palestinian cuisine and heritage, and images of them abound on ceramics and textiles. Pomegranates and their juice are sold from street carts and cafes in the West Bank and Gaza.

Today, tens of thousands of tons of pomegranates are grown and harvested by Israeli farmers on stolen Palestinian farmland; about half of the crop is exported, mainly to Europe. Meanwhile, Palestinians have a far easier time gaining permits to work on Israeli-owned farms than getting permission from the military to work land that is ostensibly theirs. These restrictions apply within several kilometers of Israel's claimed borders with Gaza and the West Bank, some of the most fertile land in the area; Palestinian farmers working in this zone risk being injured or killed by military fire.

Israel further restricts Palestinians' ability to work their farms and export crops by imposing tariffs, unexpectedly closing borders, shutting down and contaminating water supplies, spraying Palestinian crops with pesticides, bulldozing crops (including eggplant) when they are ready to be harvested, and bombing Palestinian farmland and generators. Though Palestinian goods have local markets, the sale of Palestinian crops to Israel was forbidden from 2007 to 2014 (when Israel accepted shipments of goods including tomato and eggplant).

Gazans have resisted these methods by disregarding orders to avoid the arable land near Israel's claimed borders, continuing to forage native plants, growing new spices and herbs for export, planting hydroponic rooftop gardens, crushing chalk and dried eggplants to produce calcium for plants, using fish excrement as fertilizer, creating water purification systems, and growing plants in saltwater. Resisting Israeli targeting of Palestinian food self-sufficiency has been necessary for practical and economic reasons, but also symbolizes the endurance of Palestinian culture, history, and identity.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action's bail fund; and buying an e-Sim for distribution in Gaza.

Serves 6-8.

Ingredients:

For the stew:

1 medium eggplant (370g)

1 cup brown lentils (عدس اسود)

600g pomegranate seeds (to make 3 cups juice)

3 Tbsp all-purpose flour

1/4 cup red tahina

1/2 cup olive oil

Salt, to taste

Citric acid (ملح الليمون / حامِض ليمون) (optional)

Red tahina may be approximated with home cooking tools with the above-linked recipe; you may also toast white tahina in a skillet with a little olive oil, stirring often, until it becomes deeply golden brown.

For the دُقَّة (dugga / crushed condiment):

2 tsp cumin seeds, or ground cumin

1 1/2 Tbsp dill seeds ("locust eye" بذور الشبت / عين جرادة)

5 cloves garlic

1 green sweet pepper (فلفل بارد اخضر)

2 dried red chilis (فلفل شطة احمر)

People use red and green sweet and chili peppers in whatever combination they have on hand for this recipe; e.g. red and green chilis, just green chilis, just red chilis, or just green sweet peppers. Green sweet peppers and red chilis are the most common combination.

For the طشة (Tsha / tempering) (optional):

Olive oil

1 Tbsp minced garlic

Instructions:

1. Rinse and pick over lentils. In a large pot, simmer lentils, covered, in enough water to cover for about 8 minutes, or until half-tender.

2. Meanwhile, make the dugga by combining all ingredients in a mortar and pestle or food processor, and grinding until a coarse mixture forms.

Dugga and components.

3. Cube eggplant. A medium-sized eggplant may be cut in half lengthwise (through the root), each half cut into thirds lengthwise, then cubed widthwise.

Cubed eggplant, red tahina, and pomegranate seeds.

4. Add eggplant to simmering water (there is no need to stir).

5. While the eggplant cooks, blend pomegranate seeds in a blender very thoroughly. Strain to remove any gritty residue. Whisk flour into pomegranate juice.

Pomegranate juice being strained.

6. Taste your pomegranate juice. If it is not sour, add a pinch of citric acid or a splash of lemon juice and stir.

7. Add dagga to the pot with the lentils and eggplant and stir. Continue to simmer until the eggplant is very tender and falling apart.

8. Add pomegranate juice, tahina, and olive oil to the pot, and simmer for another 5 minutes, or until stew is very thick and homogenous.

Bright pink pomegranate juice in stockpot.

9. (Optional) In a small skillet, heat a little olive oil on medium. Fry minced garlic, stirring constantly, until golden brown. Add into the pot and stir.

10. (Optional) Mash the stew with the bowl of a ladle or a bean masher to produce a more homogenous texture.

Serve rummaniyya hot or cold in individual serving bowls. It may be served as an appetizer, or as a main dish alongside flatbread, olives, and fresh vegetables such as radishes, green peppers, green onions, carrots, and romaine lettuce. It may be eaten with a spoon, or by using كماج (kmāj), a flatbread with an internal pocket, to scoop up each bite.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

You take Stardew Valley requests now?!

Also—you do Morris too?

Hmm. Without immediately getting on the hate train, could I please request a Farmer!Reader getting sick of Morris pestering them to buy a Joja membership? Their reaction to this is to issue the store manager a challenge—since they doubt he’s actually done anything usual for the “company”. Reader worked at Jojacorp previously, they know how cushy manager jobs are. Farmer!Reader states they buy a membership if and only if Morris tries to get through one of their typical work schedules for a day.

Really. Other stores have to be scouted, land cleared, and then built. So it shouldn’t be too far fetched for him to have some experience on the physical of working for the company, right?

Or something like that.

Ohhh I like this one 👀

A little love for Morris for ya'll

.....

"Hello. How are you?"

"Good, thanks. And you?"

"I'm good. Did you find everything okay?"

"Yep. The other place was closed and I needed these seeds for my greenhouse before the season's up-"

"You know you could get them for far cheaper and more by purchasing our Joja membership! It's never too late~"

'Why did I say anything...' Already annoyed, you looked over your shoulder to see Morris, the JojaMart manager, standing at the customer service booth. He had a far-too-cheery smiling spreading from ear to ear, making him look more unnerving than friendly.

After seeing that stunt he pulled at Pierre's yesterday, you knew he wasn't ashamed about boasting his business and trying to push you over to his side.

You rolled your eyes and looked back at the redheaded cashier, handing her the gold and putting the seed packets in your backpack. Now you could say with confidence that you've gotten everything you needed to finish some bundles for the community center.

Wishing her a goodnight, you began heading towards the door--only to see Morris now standing there, once again insisting you buy a membership.

Apparently, ignoring him wasn't the solution this time.

"I mean no disrespect, sir..but the answer's no. I moved here to escape Joja, not get dragged back into it."

"Ah but everything leads back to Joja eventually, dear farmer." He chuckled. "You'll come around, I'm sure. Now you have a goodnight."

"You, too." Grumbling, you practically shoved past him and stormed back home, hopping into the nearest minecart as your shortcut.

Fortunately you had some time to plant the seeds in the greenhouse, knowing your sprinklers will take good care of them from here on out. And then you headed straight to bed, your pet curled up beside you as you dozed off.

........

It was a little past 6AM..and you were already done with today.

You were just 101% done.

That was all because of Morris.

Only now you realized how stubborn that corporate suck-up was...as in the mail he left you an envelope containing Joja coupons and a letter, once again pleading his case.

First he barges into another man's small business and presents a big sale to drive customers away...and now he's trying to bribe you with coupons, knowing damn well how rich your farm is becoming. He was just after your money and nothing more.

You were very close to chucking the letter into the furnace.

Then something dawned upon you..

He's always insisting that his store's products would make your farm work "easier", but what did he really know about the work you do? All that hard labor and hours toiling in the sun to get your grandpa's farm in better shape than it ever was?

You were no stranger to the cushy jobs your managers at Joja Corp had. They only had to do taxes, nag about meeting quota, and barely lifted a finger, lounging in a luxury office while you were cramped in a cubicle, mindlessly typing away on some old computer.

That was the only life Morris probably ever knew.

He didn't pour any blood, sweat, or tears into constructing JojaMart...or did he?

Then again, he liked to tout about building it all "from the ground up", and you wondered if he meant that literally.

That gave you an idea.

You were planning a trip to Skull Caverns today, but now you had something different in mind. Those serpents, mummies, and prismatic shards could wait.

So after checking everything on your farm, you headed to JojaMart right away. Not to buy goods this time, but to talk to Morris about your proposition.

The villagers in town were wondering why you were smiling, yet otherwise said good morning and continued about their day.

.............

As Morris was approaching the store, he was surprised to see you standing in front of the entrance. "Why hello, farmer." He chuckled, twirling the keys around his finger. "I see you've changed your mind? You must really want that membership-"

"Yeah, about that.." You huffed, backpack slung over your shoulder. "I wanna make a deal with you."

"..really, now? I thought you weren't into "business"." He pouted, but after seeing your stare, he sighed. "Fine. Out with it. I do have to open the store in five minutes."

"It'll only take one minute. I'll get the membership-"

His grin returned.

"--if, and only if, you come to my farm for a day and try to get through one of my work schedules."

Immediately it faltered as he gawked loudly, looking as though you tried to gift him trash. His glasses became askew as he physically recoiled, but he tried fixing them, sputtering out nonsense.

You titled your head, smirking. "What's wrong?"

"I--erm..i-is that all?" He managed to compose himself, trying to stay professional. "I mean..it's....how hard could it possibly be? That's why I was stunned. Because it seems..too simple."

"....I thought you were gonna say no-"

"No? Hah! I could never pass up a challenge, dear farmer. If that's all it takes to get you into our membership club and out of Pierre's rundown shack of a store..then why not?"

"Oh good. It shouldn't be that hard for someone like you who built this store "from the ground up"." You reminded him, noticing the subtle change in his expression. He was still smiling, yet he looked nervous. "You must be familiar with toiling for hours in the sun, scouting, clearing land of trees and boulders to make way for the foundation...."

As you went on and on, Morris kept nodding his head. But in the back of his mind, he was panicking.

He never got a spec of dirt on any clothes he wore, nor did he partake in any hard labor, having left that to his construction crew. He only ever managed the finances of the store--none of the physical aspects of running one.

That being said...he couldn't just let go of the 0.1% chance that you'll give into a membership. Not when you're coming to him at this hour with such a deal.

Whatever will give him an edge over Pierre, he'll take it.

"...oh, and there's one tiny string attached."

"Of course.." He chuffed, fixing his bowtie. "What is it?"

"You and your workers aren't allowed to touch the Community Center even if I buy that membership."

Once more, he gawked. "Huh?! But..but...with that extra 5,000 gold, we'll have more than enough to fund-!"

Your stare silenced him, and as frustrated as he was....he finally relented. "Fine. Fine. I'll call someone else to run customer service in my steed. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"Don't worry. I won't leave you high and dry." You smiled, patting his shoulder and ignoring the way he cringed and hastily brushed the dirt off his suit when you moved away. "Come by my farm after work and I'll give you the rundown. Tomorrow morning you start."

"Will do. But until then...care to come in and shop?" He chuckled, unlocking the door.

Yet when he turned back around, you were already gone, and his shoulders sagged with defeat.

'That farmer is a strange one, but I'll get them that membership yet.'

....

"--and finally, between 11PM and 2AM, check the slime hutch and makes sure the troughs are full of water and sell off any petrified slime they may produce."

"..sounds disgusting."

"You want me to buy that membership or not, Morris?" Glaring at the Joja manager, you saw the way he flinched and looked at you with panic. "Because I can just-"

"No, no! It's fine..I agree with all of these..terms and conditions." He looked over the book of instructions you lent him, containing a log of one of your daily work schedules.

By the time you finished writing down the tasks, he arrived on your farm in the late evening in a pair of jeans and a white shirt (with the Joja logo, of course). So at least you knew he was taking this seriously.

Although you're sure he's only trying to convince you that he can do this, and you had some doubts. Even Sam and Shane were taking bets after learning where their manager was gonna be tomorrow, with Sam thinking he'll lose it at the slimes, and Shane betting he won't last an hour on your farm.

Time will tell if either of them win.

"Good, and there's just one more thing....don't mind the Cursed Mannequin."

He did a double take. "I'm sorry, the what now?"

"Oh nothing. I just have a perfectly normal mannequin in the house." You smirked. "Just don't touch it or look at it for too long. Anyways, I got an extra bed set up for you. Don't come looking for me in the morning because I'll be camping out at Calico Desert all day."

Digging a desert warp totem out of your bag, you looked at Morris one more time. "I got a few hours to set up camp, then I'll be down in the skull caverns."

"It's reassuring to know that's not part of this work schedule.." He muttered. "How much did you pay for the-?"

"I made it myself. Get yourself acquainted with the area and rest up. Tomorrow your challenge starts."

His eyebrows furrowed a little, as he wasn't a fan of you bossing him around like this. But then again this was your "business", technically, and he was only playing the role of employee for a day...

He only had to get through one day, and then you'll have no choice but to agree and get the Joja membership!

"Wait, but what if-?"

"You'll be fine, Morris. Try not to burn my farm down." With a wink, you activated the totem and disappeared in a bright flash of light, which made him quickly shield his eyes, wincing.

Suddenly he was all alone in the cabin, and his gaze eventually wandered to the single mannequin positioned by your wardrobe. It was wearing one of your festival outfits...

And, for a split second, Morris swore it was blinking at him.

But he just shook it off as his imagination, deciding to go outside and check over everything like you told him to.

'Okay, maybe this won't be so bad after all...I can do this. For Joja.'

.........

"Thanks, Pam!"

"Oh anytime, hun." The blonde driver chuckled as you were let off at the bus stop in Pelican Town, happy to be back after a long day at the Skull Caverns.

Least to say, it was a super lucky day for you...aside from the occasional swarm of serpents that had you running, ducking, and swinging your weapon like crazy. But you didn't pass out this time, thank Yoba.

You got a few things to donate to the museum, geodes to crack open, and gifts to give to your friends, but the most important thing right now was seeing how your farm was in Morris' hands.

Hopefully nothing burned down.

But part of you realized that if he was okay, that meant buying a Joja membership and having to succumb to the corporation you tried to get away from.

Oh well, you proposed that deal in the first place. It would be cruel not to uphold your end of it.

As you walked onto your farmland, you took a good look around, seeing that your crops were properly watered and the animals were out of the coop and barn, happily grazing in the fenced area. They seemed highly content.

'Well I'll be damned. He did it. I guess it wasn't so bad for him after all.'

Smiling, you headed inside the cabin to organize your backpack-

Only to find Morris passed out on the floor of your kitchen, his face sweaty and clothes covered in dirt and slime residue; not to mention several scratch marks on his skin, more notably his hands.

'Okay, maybe I spoke too soon.'

"Morris?" You got your watering can ready in case you had to wake him up-

Then he abruptly snapped his eyes open, sitting up with a gasp, scrambling to his feet the moment he saw you. He looked extremely strung out and..almost traumatized, even.

"Farmer, you...! Y-You...you didn't....!!"

"Hey, hey. Calm down, Morris." Setting the watering can on the table, you put your hands up. "You're okay. Everything looks good out there-"

"You didn't tell me you had beasts living on this farm! Oh god, I'm a mess. Don't look at me anymore!" With teary eyes, he rushed to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, nearly scrubbing them raw as he tried calming himself down. "Those Slimes were so vicious, they kept swarming me and one stole my glasses! A-And the animals...why didn't you say there were dinosaurs in the coop?!"

"I did put that down, but you must've thrown away the paper I gave you. I told you to look it over carefully."

"And I told you to get an Auto-Petter!" He huffed. "I would've offered it to you at a discount had I known you had so many animals! But noooo...you'd rather risk getting your fingers bitten off, I guess!"

"Oh come on. They're sweet little things who crave real human affection-"

"To you, who raised them, they might be!" Turning around, he could see your small smile, and he frowned in return. "You know what the worst part about all of this was?"

"I'm eager to know." You sat down at the table, your pet coming to sit beside you on the floor.

"...Pierre. He came by to sell you some ridiculous recipe, but instead saw me down on my knees, trying to tear some stupid fruit out of the ground! And he LAUGHED and called me your "new farmboy"!! You have any idea how humiliating that was?!!" His face was turning red.

"I can imagine...what was the recipe?"

"Wh..nevermind that! I represent all of Joja in this town, and if anyone finds out through my rival that I'm....!! I'm....!" As he looked at you and saw your expression, he felt defeated, his anger replaced with tiredness.

"...sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to lose my head." He rubbed his temples, groaning. "And here I am, doing just that. I..I don't know how you do it everyday, [y/n]. All of this work. I'm definitely not in the best shape for it."

"Believe me, I used to think the same thing." You chuckled, glad to see the haughty manager becoming so humble. "You remember our deal?"

Morris perked up. "Yes. You were..serious about that, correct?" His eyes narrowed. "Because if you made me go through all of this just to embarrass me-"

"Relax. You're gonna have a new member of your little club very soon." Sighing, you took out an envelope containing 5,000 gold that you've reserved for this. "Really didn't think you'd last long enough to win...but you did it."

He looked at you like a fish out of water, utterly speechless. But he quickly regained his composure and laughed, standing upright. "Hah! One score for me, none for Pierre! Shall we get you set up right away into our rewards program-?"

"Get cleaned up first, and then we'll talk about that."

"......fine, "boss"." His shoulders slumped as he pouted, heading back into the spare bedroom to wash up and put his black suit, slacks, and bowtie back on.

While waiting, you sighed and looked down at your pet. "That son of a bitch really did it, Miso."

"........"

"Yeah, I should've known better. But it was nice being the manager of him for once."

[brokenpieces-72]

In and Out

Navigation

Just want to say thank you so much for your guys love and support on this series. I genuinely appreciate it. My request box is open and empty and I love getting requests, whether it’s AUs or something else. If you want to be tagged let me know.

Milena knocks on your old apartment door. No answer. She knocks again and still no answer. This was ridiculous, what was the point of this? You’re just some tagger running with some men doing who knows what. Honestly she wants to be going over more of the land deals and getting home and health inspectors into that neighbourhood as soon as possible. More evictions more chances to rebuild.

Milena turns to walk away when she sees you, stopping her in her tracks. You have your bag over your shoulder, wearing a hoodie with a leather jacket overtop. You’re wearing a cap you “borrowed” from Kyle, old jeans and gloves. Of course you also had your scarf on.

If you didn’t know who Milena really was you would be wondering why she’s here, but you have some guesses. Before approaching her you noticed her approaching your building. You’d caught a photo and asked for instructions from your friends. You have a small group chat with them but Price and Ghost were busy doing other stuff. So Kyle and Johnny were left to take charge. Kyle suggested hiding and waiting until she left. Johnny said to see what she wants.

Y/N: what do I say if she sees me?

K: Be nice.

J: mess with her!

The texts came at the same time. Then Johnny sent another.

J: Record it too!

Your phone is recording audio, as you simply stand there waiting for the socialite to start talking.

“Sorry do you know who lives here?” She asks you.

“Yep.” You say. There’s a pause as you just stare at her.

“Um, is the landlord here today? I need to talk to him about this apartment. I was told it’s going up for sale.”

“No it‘s not and no you weren’t.” You say with a slight smirk.

“I’m sorry?” She asks sounding irritated.

“Do you want to take a look around? Seriously it ain’t impressive.” You say walking up to her casually and unlocking the door. She steps back as if you were dog rushing up to bark at her. You step inside and hold the door open for her.

“Still occupied, sorry. But it’s the same as every other apartment if you’re interested in moving in. Come in I don’t mind.” You leave the view of the door frame and go to the kitchen, setting your bag down in the corner. Milena can do plenty, but this is your own personal turf.

“Want a drink?” You ask, opening the fridge, and your garbage. Good thing you stopped by to grab stuff, the last thing you want is a mushroom farm in your fridge.

“Coffee or something stronger.” she says, absently surveying your unit.

“Uh… sorry don’t really have… cider okay?” You ask tossing another expired container into the bin.

“It’ll do.” She says, sitting in one of the chairs in the living room as if it were her own office. You shrug it off and get her a can of cider. Oh shit you forgot you had those. Definitely need to take those back with you for a personal pleasure. Hopefully none of them liked popping boba.

“So uh…” you start as you close the fridge. “You trying to evict me? Like the homes down in the south east neighbourhood?”

Milena looks up at you with wild eyes as you hand her the drink as if you found her diary.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She says taking the drink, eyeing the tab.

“New manicure? Here.” You take the drink from her and open it. “So what’s up.”

“I came to give you an invitation to a party.” She says offering you an envelope. You take it and look it over before looking at her.

“How old are you?” You ask.

“Excuse me?” She says offended. Damn she was easy.

“Milena Romanova, realtor and socialite. You make a lot of money in real estate and land deals. Land deals that don’t land the same money you do. Must be good.” Milena looks ticked.

“Now you’re funding the police, making friendly donations and spending time with the chief commissioner.”

“What are y-“

“Just making small talk. A couple guys I know from the precinct told me you guys are dating.” You say reclining on your old sofa, as if it were a throne. Milena doesn’t know what to make of you. You are certainly…different.

“My love life is my own.” Milena states. You shrug. “The invitation is for an event, inviting a few large names from the city. I understand you’re an aspiring artist.”

“Something like that.” You admit. Hopefully she hadn’t seen your most recent work. It may or may not have involved her posing on houses with… unmentionables spilling out the windows.

“I believe this could be a great opportunity for you. I know plenty of large names and often have art showcased at open houses.”

“Not sure I have the money to afford a nice outfit.” You say.

“If you’d like I could buy a couple of your pieces to cover costs. Of course it’s your choice.” She offers. She stands without you giving an answer, and leaving the open untouched can of cider on the coffee table along with the invitation.

“I have places to be. I hope to see you there.” She says going to the door. Milena steps out but turns to address you.

“I should mention, the chief commissioner has been looking for you. I think he’d like to get to know you more. If you don’t mind I’ll let him know where he can find you.” And without another word, she shuts the door. The room is silent. All you hear is the sound of the carbonation from Milena’s open cider. You take the cider and take a swig before getting to work.

Then you hear a noise from one of the rooms. You keep your phone recording, and go to your bag taking out your gun. You keep it pointed to the ground as you get closer to the closed door. You put a hand on the knob before shoving it open aiming the gun at the intruder.

“You mother fucker!” You shout.

“I can explain.” Graves says.

“Like hell you can.” You say. “Also my bedroom, seriously? This is a whole new level of creepy.”

“Thank you I try.” Graves puts sarcastically. “I came to leave you a note, I assumed you’d return. I wanted to warn you about Makarov but… you just had tea time with Milena.”

“Hardly tea time, she didn’t drink anything.” You say. “She follow you?”

“I hope not. Just in case don’t leave for a few hours.” Graves says. You nod understanding. “Stupid question but why are you here?”

“Came to pick up extra stuff.” You say going around him and getting the duffle bag from your closet. You start packing, and your hoodie sleeve slides up again. Graves notices.

“Who grabbed you… or are you and the boys of the 141 getting clo-“ Graves stops the question after you glare at him. “Teasing.”

“…Nolan grabbed me. I don’t know his last name.” You admit. You haven’t told anyone else.

“Does Price know?” He asks. You shrug and focus on packing extra clothes, before going to the bathroom to grab some extra supplies. Graves is quiet.

“You gonna go to the party?” He asks.

“Haven’t decided.” You say.

“Let me know if you want a ride.” He offers. “Take it Milena hasn’t seen your recent work. Hoo boy that’s some slander.”

You look at him, incredulous. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw works of art, and have no clue where they came from.” Graves says raising his hands. You smile a little but he doesn’t get to see it.

“How are you doing?” Graves asks. “You eating okay? Sleeping well?”

“The guys take good care of me.” You say coming back to the bag with a couple of items. You look around the room to see if you’re missing anything else.

“He’s getting close.” Graves says. “Makarov keeps asking me about you, and I’m giving him what I can without putting either of us at risk.”

“I need a favour.” You admit. Graves raises an eyebrow. “There’s a raid planned. The… a gang went to the docks a while ago trying to take down a drug shipment, but the drugs were protected. I know when the next raid will happen, and if you’re there you can look further into it.”

Graves stands there, admittedly surprised. You were giving him a lead, one to Makarov sure, but one that could get the others in shit.

“Send a tip to the station, make sure it comes to me and only me ya got that.” He instructs. You nod.

“Thank you.” You say. Graves gives a nod, and it’s an awkward silence. Graves looks at your wrist again.

“He grab you anywhere else?” He asks calmly. You rub your arm, and Graves sighs. Without warning he holds your shoulders, before pulling you into a hug. It’s oddly nice. A comfort. You can’t talk to Graves much but right now, you feel like you could spill your guts and he would listen.

“You stay safe kiddo.” He says quietly, not expecting you to hear it. You do. And you just squeeze a little tighter. He lets you go, looking down at you. Graves is about to say something but stops himself.

“Chill here, call a ride, go home.” He says. You nod and after a final good bye he walks out into the night.

Milena came over to Makarov’s home, greeting him with a kind smile.

“They’re all sent out?” He asks.

“Of course.” She says.

“Now we wait.” Makarov says. “The pieces will fall where they need to.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @tai-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz @dcnocap207

[unpredictable-probabilities]

At a Blade's End || Chapter 1: The New Target

Summary:

Hob declines an offer from enterprising noble Roderick Burgess to buy his land after finding out the man's selfish mindset about his ambitions.

However, Roderick Burgess is not one to take no for an answer.

Word Count: 2,671

Notes:

For Dreamling Week Day 7: Assassins

[Read on AO3]

---

He perched on the lowest branch deep within the tree’s leaves, allowing him a good view of the road below but keeping himself out of sight.

The moon was shining bright tonight, and he was confident that he would spot the target as soon as it arrived. This was the main road out of the village, and most merchants took it to transport their wares more conveniently.

He did not need to wait long, for merely a handful of minutes later, a familiar carriage turned the corner, pulled along by two horses driven by one man.

The carriage would pass by in front of his tree any moment now.

Three.

Two.

One.

He leapt out of the branch and tackled the man to the ground, sitting up and pinning him down.

The horses, feeling the reigns go slack, became restless and swerved in different directions as they dragged the carriage behind them.

“You…!” The man’s eyes widened in recognition and fear.

He lifted his dagger and sliced through the man’s throat.

The man didn’t say anything more, his eyes still wide and unblinking beneath the moonlight.

He would need to modify the look of that wound later. But for now, he had something else to attend to.

He stood up and turned smoothly on his heel, heading towards the carriage.

***

“Don’t you have that meeting with the Burgess fella?” Louise said as she walked over to Hob behind the bar. “Why’re you still here?”

“I’ve still got a bit of time left,” Hob looked at his pocketwatch. He liked to help out at the tavern even for a short while every day, especially during lunch hours like these when the place tended to be busy.

“You work too hard, boss,” Matthew said, bringing in a tray of empty mugs from the tables.

“Maybe he’s makin’ up for how you’re hardly workin’, Matt,” Louise called after him as he walked into the kitchens.

“Not taking that from you, Lou,” Matthew called back, the door closing behind him.

“Go ahead, boss,” Louise nodded towards the doorway of the tavern. “We can hold down the fort.”

“Alright,” Hob relented. “Wouldn’t do to keep a nobleman waiting.”

“Aren’t you a nobleman, too?” Louise raised an eyebrow.

“I’m much more patient compared to others,” Hob said, only half-joking.

He walked past the tables and went out to his carriage waiting outside the tavern.

“Good afternoon, Abel,” Hob greeted his coachman already waiting for him. “Have you eaten already?”

“Yes, sir,” Abel nodded from his seat behind the horses. “Louise got me a table and served me lunch about a half hour ago.”

Hob nodded. “Very well, then. We best be off to Fawney Rig.”

Abel urged the horses to move with a gentle motion of the reins, and the carriage rolled down the dirt road.

***

“I trust your journey has been peaceful, Sir Gadling?” Roderick Burgess asked after his servants had finished laying out their food on the table.

“Indeed, Sir Burgess. The roads were even, and it is not quite so hot out, which I am grateful for also because it allows us to have this meal in your beautiful garden,” Hob said pleasantly.

“My servants would hold umbrellas for us even if it does get too hot,” Burgess said indifferently. “Heaven knows I pay them enough for such a small task.”

Hob’s smile almost faltered, but he kept up his friendly tone. “So, Sir Burgess, the invitation I received mentioned your interest in my farm?”

“Yes,” Burgess nodded and took a sip of his tea. “Your land is along the main road leading to the church and residential areas. I would like to purchase it.”

Hob’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh. I see.” He was under the impression that Burgess wanted some sort of trade agreement, or perhaps to have Hob’s farm be his supplier for another business. “I’m afraid it’s not for sale, Sir Burgess. That land has been within my family for generations, and I am inclined to keep it that way. But perhaps I can recommend other properties? I know a few people who might be more willing to sell their lands.”

Burgess shook his head. “Properties along the main roads are the most profitable. I should like to build an inn or a tavern where your farm currently resides. Name your price, Sir Gadling.”

“I’m not too certain that the main roads would be as good for profit as they once were,” Hob began. “Have you heard of the wolf attack the other night?”

“Nasty business,” Burgess wrinkled his nose. “Not very good table conversation.”

“Yes, of course,” Hob tipped his head politely. “I just meant that perhaps we shouldn’t conduct any new ventures along the main roads until the authorities have set up some security measures.”

“Travellers know the risks. If they go to an inn and get attacked by wild beasts or some other along the way, that is not the responsibility of the inn’s owner, is it? I do not see why the other night’s events should concern me. Besides, only one merchant died, if the servants’ incessant gossip are to be believed. Merchants arrive here by the handful every week. Apparently the horses even got loose from the carriage and were unharmed. You, there!” he turned and roughly called out to one of the servants.

A young woman came rushing to their table with her head bowed.

“Bring us a basket of apples. And be quick about it.”

“Yes, Master Burgess,” the woman dipped her head even lower and scurried away.

“Where was I?” Burgess turned back to Hob. “Ah, yes, the main roads. If you sell me your land, you will not have to worry about any attacks on that area. Whatever happens there would be solely my responsibility.”

Based on the short time he had known him, Hob doubted that Burgess was the type of man who would ever take responsibility for anything. But he saw no use in mentioning that.

“I really am sorry, Sir Burgess, but my farm remains off the market,” Hob said politely. He would have reiterated his suggestion to introduce Burgess to his friends who might be willing to sell, but Hob didn’t actually hate any of his friends to inflict Burgess upon them. “I do wish you the best in your business endeavours, though I doubt you will need any luck or well-wishes given how consistently successful your properties are.”

Burgess snorted. “I did not take you for a flatterer, Sir Gadling. Though I will not contest the accuracy of your statement.”

The servant returned with a bowl of sliced apples, and placed it down carefully on the table before leaving again without a sound.

Burgess picked up an apple slice without so much as a glance to the person who brought the fruit. “Very well. Perhaps I can persuade you to some sort of bargain before this meal ends.”

***

Hob was not persuaded, in the end. Though he did do his best impression of someone who was very interested in what Burgess had to say about astrology and the occult and how it was unlucky to have a farm on such an inauspicious location relative to the sunrise, and how Hob should seriously consider selling to him while the land was still valuable.

Hob thanked him generously for his wisdom after the meal and politely declined Burgess’ offer to have a servant walk him to the gates. He had seen how often and how roughly Burgess ordered the servants around throughout their entire meeting, and he didn’t want any of them to walk with him under the sun which had grown significantly hotter now when he knew perfectly well how to find the exit himself.

He saw a few more servants tending to the garden as he walked; trimming the hedges, watering the plants, harvesting. He thought about his own workers back at his farm, how he had given specific instructions to his foreman for all of them to take more frequent breaks when it was particularly hot, and he wondered if Burgess ever considered things like that.

Lost in his own thoughts and with the sun partially blinding him, Hob didn’t notice the figure turning the corner until they had already collided and a basket of fruit fell at his feet.

“I'm very sorry, sir,” the servant muttered in a low voice and hurriedly crouched down to pick up the blueberries that had spilled on the grass.

“No, no,” Hob crouched down as well and helped, their fingers brushing together as they quickly gathered the fruits. “I wasn't looking where I was going, it was my fault.”

They stood up and returned the blueberries to the basket, Hob carefully letting them roll off his palms.

“Sorry about that, uh… what’s your name?” Hob asked politely.

“My… name, sir?” The servant kept his head down the entire time, and Hob could barely see his face. Christ, did Burgess order his workers to avert their eyes all the time? What sort of man would do that?

“Yes, if you’re comfortable enough to share it?” Hob said encouragingly, not wanting him to feel like he was obligated to give his name.

The servant raised his head and met Hob’s gaze.

And Hob felt his breath catch in his throat.

The man had a fair face and the bluest eyes that Hob had ever seen. The colour of the sea after a storm. Uncut sapphires framed by long dark lashes.

“Morpheus,” came a quiet rumble from rose-pink lips. Then those blue eyes glanced down again. “Sir.”

“Morpheus…” Hob repeated, blinking himself back to his senses.

The man—Morpheus—tipped his head politely. “Pardon me, sir. I must bring these inside.” He walked past Hob and headed into the house.

Hob straightened himself and smoothed down his waistcoat, feeling somewhat disarmed by that interaction, though not necessarily in an unpleasant way.

He walked out of the gates and went back to his carriage.

***

“Morpheus!” Paul appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Morpheus placed down the basket on the tabletop. “I’ll handle that. Thank you again,” the young man said sheepishly, taking the blueberries to wash them.

“You are fortunate that I am the one who saw you with Alex, and not his father,” Morpheus chided lightly. He had come across them in the garden and only just managed to push them behind a topiary as another servant walked by. He had grabbed the basket of blueberries in the process, and used it as an excuse to the older servant as to why he had been standing there.

“Master Burgess never walks outside if it’s hot out,” Paul said, his ears reddening.

“And none of the servants would dare do anything to us,” Alex arrived, standing beside Paul. “I’m still the son of their master.”

“Even so, word could reach your father,” Morpheus reminded him. “And I hope you do not have any delusions that he would react positively to hearing that you two were in each other’s embrace.”

Alex looked down, his cheeks dusted pink. “He only insists on me marrying a noble because he wants me out of this house. Ever since Randall died he has hated me more,” his voice had grown quiet, and Paul put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alex,” Morpheus said, softening his voice. Alexander Burgess had been like a little brother to him, his only friend ever since arriving at Fawney Rig many years ago. It pained him to see the boy unhappy. “We are both aware that if your father really wanted you out of this house, you would already be on the streets. Regardless, you two must be cautious. Especially you, Paul.”

They both nodded, Alex taking Paul’s hand and squeezing it.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Alex looked at Morpheus. “Father wants to see you.”

Morpheus instinctively tensed up. A summons from Roderick Burgess shortly after a meeting with someone usually only meant one thing.

He nodded. “Thank you, Alex.”

He went out of the kitchen and took the shortest route along the corridors to reach the highest balcony at the back of the manor overlooking a river. Most of the servants gave him a wide berth; they were not aware of the exact nature of his job, apart from being Lord Burgess’ personal servant, but it was that very uncertainty that unnerved them.

Morpheus paid them no mind. He had no time for such trifles.

He reached the stairs that would lead to the balcony, climbing soundlessly as he had been trained.

“If I can hear you approach, you’ve already disappointed me,” Lord Burgess glared down at him disapprovingly.

“Lord Burgess,” he announced his presence to the man sitting on a high-backed chair facing the river below them. 

A hand motioned him forward, its many rings glittering in the sun.

Morpheus moved to stand in front of him, as he had every time he would be summoned here.

“I trust that no complications have arisen with your last assignment?”  Lord Burgess asked. “I heard the horses got loose. Why is that?”

Because they were merely doing what they were told, and have neither stakes nor involvement in petty human affairs, Morpheus thought, his facial features remaining impassive.

“They were making too much noise; I did not want to risk drawing the attention of passers-by. And killing both animals would have made it look like a huge pack of wolves had ventured so near residential areas, which could cause a panic and disturb the daily routines that we have so meticulously studied,” Morpheus delivered his prepared explanation.

“Everyone believes it is a wolf attack, then?” Lord Burgess took a sip of wine from his gilded goblet.

“Indeed,” Morpheus confirmed. “I made multiple cuts on the body to mimic the marks of claws and teeth, and damaged the carriage similarly. The patches of wolf fur I placed all over the area have been discovered. The merchant’s death remains unquestioned.”

Lord Burgess nodded, expecting nothing less. “You have a new target.”

Morpheus stood up straighter, already feeling the familiar grip of daggers in his hands.

“The guest I had hosted earlier today. Robert Gadling.”

Morpheus suddenly recalled a pair of brown eyes, warm as the first rays of sun on soft earth. Fingers too callused than what he would have expected of noblemen who never did a day’s labour in their lives.

“Immediately?” Morpheus asked, the phantom daggers in his hands somehow feeling cold and heavy.

Lord Burgess shook his head. “No. That merchant’s death is still too fresh in the people’s minds, and at least a few of them would be aware that he had come here shortly before attempting to leave the village. Another death by someone who had recently stepped foot in my home would be too suspect. First, I want you to find out who would inherit his lands so that I may make the necessary arrangements. Then you can dispose of him. Wolf attack, food that had unfortunately gone bad and poisonous, figure something out,” he waved his hand lazily. “It might take a while longer than your usual assignments, but completing it shouldn’t be a problem, correct?”

Morpheus could still hear Robert Gadling’s voice, the kindest one that had spoken to him in as long as he could remember. He had asked if Morpheus felt comfortable in speaking his name, and Morpheus was so taken aback in his comfort being considered that he had actually looked at the man, despite Lord Burgess’ rule that his servants should never look in the eye those who rank higher than them—Morpheus had earned being the exception when addressing Lord Burgess himself, but he was expected to act as a common servant in the presence of others.

Morpheus tilted his chin up and gripped his phantom daggers more securely. Things like kindness and comfort were not meant for people such as him; he had forfeited his right to them long ago.

“Yes, Lord Burgess. It would not be a problem.”

---

(Chapter 2) ->

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[swallowprettybird]

beginning| previous | next

At the same time ..

[Mayor]: Ms. Holliday, you're asking too much of me, you know?

[Ms. Holiday]: Is it really so hard for you to do a small favor? You are the mayor, mr. Sterling!

[Mayour]: Yes, but it is beyond my capabilities. You know, I have the utmost respect for you and your family, but...

[Ms. Holiday]: Respect, but don't even want to listen to me!

[Ms Holiday]: Sooner or later, "the Great Pass" will end up in someone else's hands. My family has served this city for decades! It can be put to good use!

[Mayor]: *firmly* You know very well that "the Great Pass" is not for sale, ma'am. They are going to build a railroad there. Why do you need it so much? In fact, it is just a wasteland.

[Ms. Holiday]: Why not build a railroad to the north? Logistics makes it possible. In addition, even a wasteland can be built up and turned into noble land. Shouldn't you, as the mayor, know this?

[Mayor]: I know. That's also why I know it's a huge expense. You don't have that kind of money. And I don't have enough money to build a railroad by a longer route.

[Ms. Holiday]: No need to count my money, Mr. Sterling. Yes, when my father died, we found ourselves in a bit of a bind. But I will find the funds if necessary. Besides, we keep the mine, you know that.

I can't imagine him leaving everything to my brother. He's completely indifferent to household chores. Everything rests on me!

[Ms. Holiday]: And everything would have been even better if not for the damage that this bastard, this scumbag Day, had not done to my farm. I will not let this go!

[Mayor]: Nice try, Ms. Holiday. But that's it. The matter is closed.

[Mayor]: About Jack Day. Don't worry. He's already been put on the wanted list. It's only a matter of time and he will be detained soon.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Credits:

thank you so much @miralure for allowing Ms. Holiday to appear in our story ☺️ i think she looks gorgeous here!

[fuckingliterallyanythingelse]

I kinda have a thing for city design and I've been rolling this idea around in my head for a while, and i think it's come to this; 240 lots ranging from 2500-3600 sq meters, all residential, with 16 3600 sq meter commercial complexes scattered throughout, all within a sq km. The idea is pretty simple: one lot can hold a family and a small farm, or one high density housing structure. High density housing allows for staffing of commercial complexes and housing for remote workers and others who don't want to tend a yard/garden. The one family plots don't even need to be farms, the land can be developed elsewise, as a trade shop or other small business. Furthermore, a full half acre of land is a solid amount of farmland, either in a traditional farm, as an orchard, or even as a ranch or bee farm. Having 16 total commercial complexes scattered across this residential complex means that more people would be able to set up small businesses outside of their houses as well, and allow all residents to have easy access to stores of all kinds. The middle of this lot would likely be dedicated to 1-4 superstores, with a ring of smaller stores around. With none of this needing parking due to the proximity of houses, you could maximize commercial real estate, allowing for maximal convenience, having everything you could need right at hand.

And here's the thing; This needs a socialist underpinning, allow everyone a place to live, not just because it's the right thing to do, but because living on land develops the land, and living in a complex will inevitably contribute to the economy in other ways. Rent is not charged because it is not necessary, living there and actively participating in the economy is good enough. And, in order to really get the economy stimulated, everyone can be afforded a monthly budget, free of charge, that they can then spend on everyone else's goods, which then get taxed via sales or income tax, feeding back into the system. Add tariffs and service fees for mail, waste disposal, and utilites, and now your government is able to generate revenue not only to feed the socialist programs, but to maintain infrastructure as well.

[desertdollranch]

It has become an annual tradition for me to help Antonia put together her farmer's market booth, where she sells all of the fruits, vegetables, and homemade goods that her family's community farm has produced over the past year. Every year, the harvest brings more and more goods. But this autumn, she has outgrown the farmer's market, and is now selling at a roadside stand!

Antonia is ten years old in 1978, when she is inspired by the American Indian Movement to help establish a community farm on land her family owns. It's been a huge success. It has strengthened bonds between friends and neighbors as they all care for each other and make sure that nobody goes hungry.

Whatever is left over after everyone is fed, is then sold at the roadside stand. Antonia is also supplementing with a few special handmade extras that help bring in a little more money. The money will help pay for everything needed to help Snow Mountain Farm grow bigger and better.

Antonia is so proud of what the fields and orchards have grown.

Just look at the size of some of these pumpkins!

Under the cut, Antonia will give you an up-close look at what she's selling....

Everything seen here was either made by me, harvested from the wild, or purchased. (See if you can guess which ones were handmade/bought/gathered!)

The gourd and squash harvest was abundant this year. Antonia managed to coax the garden into producing a few giant pumpkins.

Lots of other fruits thrived as well!

Pears are new this year.

Beautiful pink plums are also new.

Apples are a returning favorite. There are three varieties this year: sweet yellow apples, tart green apples, and a red striped variety that has its own unique flavor.

In the front row are apples, plums, chiles, and pears. On the shelf there are fresh flowers and packaged seeds, various fruit jams, honey, apple cider, dried ground herbs, potted herb seedlings, packaged seeds, and bottles of apple cider.

Up on the shelf there are several varieties of jam: rose petal, peach, grape, prickly pear, and strawberry. Next to them is honey that the farm's bees made from the local wildflowers. The apple cider is made from apples grown in the farm's orchard.

One particular farmer is very gifted in the art of raising flowers. Here you can buy fresh cut flowers, or seedlings for your own garden.

Fruit and vegetable seedlings or seeds are also for sale.

On the checkout counter, Antonia is selling popcorn and apple cider donuts. Directly below the donuts are cartons of eggs, which include white, brown, and speckled eggs.

Below the checkout counter is the small shelf offering some smaller items. In the plastic bags are freshly made tamales, which are like dumplings of meat, veggies, beans, or cheese mixed with a corn dough and steamed inside corn husks. To the right are two wheels of goat's milk cheese. In the middle are skeins of yarn dyed with natural sources, like prickly pear fruits and cabbage leaves. Next to those are bars of soap, in sagebrush or rose petal scent. And on the right end of the shelf are bagged pine nuts, gathered from the wild.

Below that is more produce! On the left, colored corn. In the crates there are potatoes, cherries, strawberries, tomatoes, peaches, and cauliflower.

Antonia is especially proud of the fancy colored corn she has grown. It's fun to open the ears and see what colors the kernels are!

Next to that are giant sunflowers. Above that are the pretty gourds and squashes.

On the bench are some lovely watermelons. And surrounding those are even more pumpkins and squash!

These, too, emerged in all sorts of different colors and shapes. Antonia lets the different varieties cross pollinate, so that the appearances of the resulting pumpkins are a surprise.

Thanks for stopping by! Here, take a sunflower home with you!

[crustaceousfaggot]

Hob Gadling traditional folk music collection.

Been thinking about a sort of Hob Gadling character playlist composed entirely of British folk music. Songs he might have listened to throughout his life and resonated with. This is also just a little excuse for me to share some of my favorite folk songs from across the history of the British Isles :) Most of these are British in origin, but a couple are Scottish.

Some of these choices are loosely based on the fic And In The Waking World We Want And Wait by @qqueenofhades because at this point it's basically canon to me and has considerably influenced my perception of the character. Furthermore, I'm writing this with Dreamling in mind because... Well because I want to.

I'm attaching recordings for each piece, but keep in mind that, by the nature of folk music, songs (both melody and lyrics, as well as accompaniment and performance choices) are intrinsically altered in every performance and there is no single correct interpretation of a piece. If you don't like the recordings I picked, I encourage you to seek out your own :)

I am not a music historian, just a classical singer with a love of traditional folk and a cursory education on music history.

Lastly, keep in mind that folk music in the Late Medieval and Early Modern music exists in a much different form than it does today, both in its lyrical and melodic content. Of the songs surviving from that period, the majority are liturgical in nature. Those that aren't are generally about farming, changing seasons, and (of course) drinking. I've done my best, but most of these pieces aren't perfect fits. Still, what character playlist is?

Arranged in rough chronological order.

1200s: "Sumer is icumen in" (composer unknown) (Note: This song is the oldest recorded English language folk song. I think that's pretty neat.)

Sumer is icumen in Loude sing cuccu (cuckoo) Groweth sed (seed) and bloweth (bloometh) med (meadow) and springeth the worlde new

(Full text)

~1450: "Tappster, Drinker" (unknown composer)

Tappster, Drinker, fill another ale, Anonn God sende us good sale. Avale the stake, avale, here is good ale y founde. Drynke to me and y to the and lette the cuppe goe rounde.

(This is, as far as I can tell, the full text)

~1513: "Pastime with Good Company" (King Henry VIII)

Youth must have some dalliance Of good or ill some pastance Company methinks then best All thoughts and fancies to digest. For idleness Is chief mistress Of vices all Then who can say. but mirth and play Is best of all.

(Full text)

1500s: "The Ballad of Tamlin" (composer unknown) (Note: Yes this one is @landwriter 's fault. Go read Oaths. Also, I'm using one of many translations of the original ballad, but there's also an excellent folk punk adaptation by The Forgetmenauts which you should listen to if you like the story. Generally, I'm not doing this ballad any justice with my little 2-line snippet and I encourage you to look into it more yourself.)

"For if my love were an earthly knight as he is an elfin grey, I'd not change my own true love for any knight you have."

(Full text)

~1580-1650: "Greensleeves" (composer unknown)

Alas, my love you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company

I have been ready at your hand to grant whatever you would crave; I have both wagered life and land Your love and good will for to have

(Full text)

1700s: "A Maid in Bedlam" (composer unknown)

My love he'll not come near me To hear the moan I make, And neither would he pity me If my poor heart should break, But, though I've suffer'd for his sake, Contented will I be, For I love my love Because I know he first loved me.

(Full Text)

1800s: Black is The Colour of My True Love's Hair (composer unknown) (Note: although the most famous variations of this piece are from 20th century America, the piece is believed to have originated in Scotland some time in the 19th century.)

Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair, His lips are something rosy fair, The fairest face and the gentlest hands I love the grass wheron he stands.

(Full text)

1813: "The Last Rose of Summer" (Thomas Moore) (Note: I was a bit conflicted about adding this one. The song is about the pain of losing those you love to time, and the loneliness that comes from outlining your companions, both of which are sentiments I feel are very applicable to Hob. However, the song also implies that death is a mercy in the face of such loneliness, which obviously doesn't align with Hob's worldview.)

'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh.

(Full text)

1902: "Whither Must I Wander" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from the song cycle "Songs Of Travel") (Note: This is technically not a true folk song but shhhhh. This was the song that inspired this whole list because I absolutely adore Vaughan Williams and particularly this cycle.)

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

(Full text)

1904: "In Dreams" (Ralph Vaughan Williams, from "Songs of Travel") (Note: I will not apologize for using two pieces from the same cycle. Y'all don't understand I'm so autistic about these songs. Also, I had to pick at least one song with "Dream" in the title haha.)

In dreams unhappy, I behold you stand As heretofore: The unremember'd tokens in your hand Avail no more. [...] He came and went. Perchance you wept awhile And then forgot. Ah me! but he that left you with a smile Forgets you not.

(Full text)

1946: "Come you not from Newcastle?" (Arr. Benjamin Britten, original composer unknown) (Note: Although the text of the song itself doesn't necessarily have any strong Hob Vibes, the most widely known arrangement of this piece was done by Benjamin Britten, one of the country's most famed composers and also a fairly open homosexual. This, combined with the text of the song and the time that this arrangement was written, gives the song a distinctly queer vibe, at least to me, and so it makes the list. The recording attached is by Britten's life partner, Peter Pears.)

Why should I not love my love? Why should not my love love me? Why should I not speed after him, Since love to all is free?

(Full Text)

And that's all of them! Please let me know if you have any traditional folk songs you know that fit the bill, as I'm always looking for more good traditional folk music. It holds a special place in my heart :)

Consider reblogging if you got anything out of this post, since I did spend quite awhile on it and I'd love it if it got out to the wider Sandman fandom.

Resources: 1 2 3 4

[intotheseas]

My submission for @stardewfanficwriters ' event, 1.6 fest! Day 4, Green Rain.

Title: Hoppipolla

Rating: M

Pairing: Sebastian x OC f!farmer

Tags: Unresolved sexual tension, fluff, character development, sexual tension, friends to lovers, falling in love

Word count: 5,960

AO3 Link here!

Full text below the break!

Sage loves her cows. They're gentle giants with soulful eyes, fuzzy brown fur, and a proclivity for affectionate headbutts. Since they arrived a month ago they've thrived, living well off of the land. 

The late afternoon sun’s a furnace beating down on her as she finishes her milking. Every animal is loved upon, every space is cleaned, and each trough is overstuffed with hay. Sage wipes her forehead. The air is so humid it's almost wet, moisture hanging thick in the air. 

Moving on from her livestock, Sage allows her thoughts to wander. She and Shane meet up for lunch at least a couple times per week. Bit by bit, they're getting closer. It's good to have friends in the Valley.

Her newfound financial security is nice, too. Pierre buys a large portion of her milk, and she's negotiating with a few grocers in neighboring towns to sell the surplus.

Sage examines her fields. Pierre offered her a bulk discount on tomato starters, and her first harvest put the potatoes from spring to shame, thanks to fertilizer. Ever since she relented to Pierre's numerous thinly veiled sales pitches, the quality of her crops has skyrocketed. Even after almost half a year in the Valley, she's learning new things every day. 

Half the produce went to Pierre, and the other to a grocer a few towns away. A couple weeks ago, she and Maru spent a few days together installing a sprinkler system into her fields. Maru had been eager to put her skills to the test, and they were both grateful for the bonding time.

With a soft expression, she brushes her fingers along the tiny yellow flowers. Day by day she's watched the plants climb higher and higher along the trellises she and Sebastian built. They'd spent hours putting together the thin pieces of wood, spread out on the farmhouse’s floor. 

It was sweltering that day, and he'd taken his shirt off again. They'd relished the weak breeze from the box fan Sage set up near the door. From the corner of her eye she'd watched, shameless, as he worked. Her gaze lingered on his back and freckled shoulders far longer than what was usual for a friend. 

She's accepted, she has a big crush. But they're friends, and good friends at that. And that's enough, for now. A smile tugs at her lips as she surveys her farm. It's hasn't ceased to be novel, that thought. Her farm. Hers. She never pictured herself this way, owning anything. Creating something. It's more fulfilling than she ever thought it would be.

After a final glance at the fields, Sage heads inside for a shower. Scrubbing herself raw, she sighs in relief, melting under the lukewarm stream. She's always loved feeling clean, especially after a day of working in the hot sun.

Satisfied, she strolls into the main room, dripping water onto the wooden planks. Grabbing a soda from the fridge, she turns on the TV, her newest splurge. When her milk started selling so well, she figured she deserved a treat. 

Sebastian comes over more often lately. They camp out at the table, snack on veggies, and enjoy the easy company. It's a comforting routine they've built, a foundation of silly jokes, music, and a mutual appreciation for books and dumb sitcoms. 

That's something Sage likes about Sebastian. She never feels the need to fill the silence between them. They have good conversations, too, but there's never any pressure to talk. It's effortless. Natural.

The news is on, and she's only half listening, pondering what she might plant this fall, until an alarm blares. Leaning forward, she squints. 

The weatherman pulls at his collar and stammers, mentioning a strange storm developing. Sage stills as the words "unprecedented" and "anomalous" bounce between the newscasters. She thinks of her crops.

Sage: Hey, are you watching the news right now?

Sebastian: No, why?

Sage: There’s some weird weather thing? Green rain? Idk. People seem kind of freaked out.

Sebastian: Shit, yeah, this looks cool as fuck. You see the video they showed?

Sage: Mhm. I guess it's supposed to hit us overnight. I'm kinda worried for my tomatoes. Think I'm gonna put covers on them.

After downing her soda and watching more of the forecast, Sage steps outside. She's digging around in the shed, tossing coverings, stakes, and a hammer out, when she hears footsteps. A minute later, Sebastian raps on the door, holding a stitch in his side and out of breath.

“Hey, thought you might want some help, so here I am.” He scrapes his hair into a half-bun, pulls the tarps from the shed, and drags them to the field.  

Sage blinks. “Hi to you, too. Thanks, Seb.” Joining him, she tries her best to ignore how self conscious she feels, aware of every miniscule movement she makes. 

“My pleasure.” He fiddles with his t-shirt’s collar. “Mom also wants you to stay the night. I guess the whole town's freaking out because of this storm. She doesn't want you alone in case it's destructive.” 

“And,” he avoids her gaze, “it's probably best if people stick together. I'm sure it's nothing, but better safe than sorry.” 

Sage looks at him for a moment, watching as he hammers a stake into the ground, and shrugs. “Yeah, okay. Let's finish this and I'll pack a bag.” Keeping her expression nonchalant, she can only hope her exterior doesn't betray the frazzled state of her heart and mind. 

On the inside, her stomach's doing flips that would put any gymnast to shame. Hanging out at her place and the docks is one thing, but spending the night under the same roof…Dangerous thoughts, Sage. Focus.

She bites the inside of her cheek, clinging to her composure. Though he doesn't mention it anymore, Sage doesn't know when Sebastian plans on leaving for Zuzu. The odd sense of limbo’s thorned into her side as they've grown closer. 

With her tongue stuck between her teeth, she drives the last stake into the ground. Whatever this rain is, it shouldn't touch her crops. Satisfied, she brushes her shorts off. “Guess I'll pack a bag.” 

Sebastian follows her inside - by now it's second nature. He grabs a soda from the fridge and sits at the table, glued to the news while he rests his chin in his hand. 

Keeping an ear trained to the forecast, Sage throws some essentials into her backpack. The weatherman’s voice is shaky, repeating his earlier warnings of unprecedented events and strange radar signatures. 

Her forehead scrunches as her movements slow. If anything happens to the animals or crops, she'll have to start over. Can she do that? “I'm wondering if I should leave. What if it harms my tomatoes or livestock? And Lenny?” 

“I get it, but we can shut the animals in the barns and take Lenny with us. There's not much you can do against nature.” Sebastian frowns. “I'd rather have you safe with us than stuck here alone.” 

The look on his face makes Sage a little weak in the knees. He's speaking as if he cares about her. Which he probably does. As a friend. Because that's what they are.

Turning away, Sage hides her heated cheeks. "Yeah, okay. I'm still gonna worry, though." After Lenny's coaxed into his carrier, she and Sebastian corral her beloved chickens and cows inside. Sage hugs each animal and stuffs their troughs with extra hay.

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she looks back at her farm as they begin the trek up the mountain path. Lenny's in his carrier, cradled safe in Sebastian's arms. Her steps falter.

"You good Sage? You've got the same kind of dreamy look Maru gets." He waves a hand in front of her.

She startles. "Sorry! I was just thinking how it's been almost six months since I came here. This farm means a lot to me. Didn't expect that to happen. Was only looking for an escape, but this...well, it's a lot more."

With molten eyes, Sebastian smiles. "Glad you moved here, farmer girl."

His words leave her fizzy, like the sodas they left on her kitchen table. Sage thinks she might float up and out of sight if she wasn't attached to a body. She wants to hug him, to tell him she's glad here's in the Valley too, but resists. Instead, she casts a final look back. "Do you think the rain will be anything bad?" Her voice wavers.

"Nah." Sebastian coos at Lenny as he steps around a rock. "We're right by the ocean. There's bound to be weird storms coming up the coast now and then." With a quick glance at her, he adds, "There's no harm in being careful, though. And Mom will be happy to have you."

The tension leaves her body as he speaks. And Sage wonders, when did that start happening? When did she start trusting him to calm her? To help her? Taking a deep breath, Sage realizes how much she's changed since she left the city, and how much she loves the changes she's made.

She's blooming, same as tulips on her porch, and the tomatoes in her fields. Thriving alongside the land Grandpa Charlie entrusted to her.

As they reach Sebastian's house, they're treated to a dazzling view of the sun dipping closer to the sea. The air is cloying with the scent of rain, and in the distance, clouds tinged with green scud off the horizon. Sage shivers. Whether it's in excitement or fear, she isn't sure.

Inside the house, it's dim and smells of sawdust and varnish. Sage peers around, craning her neck. "Where should I put my stuff?"

Sebastian stops, blank. "Uhh, I hadn't thought that far ahead. There's a couch downstairs. You can let Lenny out down there, too. C'mon." He leads her down a set of steps to the right. 

They're greeted with complete darkness. Bumping into Sebastian's chest, Sage blusters backward, tripping to the ground. 

Swearing, Sebastian sets down a protesting Lenny and stumbles a few paces away. "Shit, you alright? Hold on." A switch clicks, and a light flickers on. Extending a hand, he hoists Sage up.

"Thanks, I'm good. I didn't expect it to be so dark." She peers around. "So, this is your room?" Gray bricks line the walls, and the decor is minimal. A bed, couch, shelf, and a desk with a computer. A few posters line the walls, mostly from bands or video games. Sebastian shifts beside her.

"It's not what I expected, although your bookshelf does look nice..." Sage trails her fingers against the books’ spines. A decent collection of comics, horror, and some classics.

"I, uh, haven't really redecorated at all since high school, since I figured I'd be leaving and all."

Sage straightens and keeps her expression carefully neutral. Of course, he's still thinking of moving. "Ah. Right." She turns to face him. "Makes sense, if you're gonna go to the city."

Awkwardness hangs over them, sticky and suffocating. Sebastian's gaze darts around, and a shaky laugh escapes him. "A-anyway," he says, "who knows when that'll happen. We should go upstairs. I'm sure Mom wants to see you."

Bending down, Sage lets Lenny out of his carrier. "Yeah. Let's do that." As she follows him out, her heart is tender in her chest, like it's sustained a bruise. She's gotten attached. Her nails bite into her palm as she holds back tears. This sucks.

In the kitchen, Robin and Maru gather around the table, the glow of the TV reflected in their wide eyes. Maru flashes a quick smile, and Robin pats Sage's head as they sit, her focus trained forward. "I'm glad you're here, Sage. I'm sure this'll be nothing, but it never hurts to be safe. Everyone in town's worried and the news isn't doing much to calm the public."

"I appreciate you inviting me to stay the night." Sage does her best to keep her voice light despite the weight in her stomach. "Maru, will you and Demetrius study this at all?"

Maru twirls a pencil between her fingers. "I'll take some samples once it passes, but I'm not going out until it's over. Dad, well, he'll do what he wants regardless of what we say." Robin scowls.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Sage turns her focus to the worried newscaster on screen. The feed switches to a reporter in Zuzu City. They huddle under an awning, casting nervous glances at the vivid green sky above. "An emergency stay in place order remains in effect for Zuzu City! All non-essential businesses are to remain closed."

Another talking head appears. "We can confirm the rain is not acidic. However, we don't know much else, only that it appears to make vegetation grow at an alarming rate. Whether this affects its cellular structure or not remains to be seen."

Maru leans forward, already scribbling onto a piece of paper. "Fascinating,” she murmurs. "By the way, Sage, if you don't mind the floor, I have a sleeping bag you can use."

"Oh! Thank you, I-"

"I've already set her up on the couch in my room. Comfier than the floor."

Sage, Maru, and Robin's heads snap toward Sebastian, but they say nothing.

She wasn't aware that placing her things on the couch counted as her agreeing to sleep there, but she's not complaining, either.

The silence is broken by the patter of raindrops against the window. Robin springs up and turns off the lights. Outside, a faint green light is visible while clouds hover overhead, closer to the ground than usual. Shuddering, Robin sits down and turns to the TV.

The talking heads continue their talking, interspersed with videos of reporters shivering under umbrellas and wearing gas masks. They look ridiculous, and Sage is leaning toward Sebastian to whisper as much when Demetrius enters the kitchen, donned head to toe in a hazmat suit. He breathes, heavy and labored, and Sage's mind flashes to a caricature of Darth Vader.

"Shit, I just forgot I have a project due for a client tonight. Sage, come help me." Sebastian grabs her hand and pulls her into the hallway and down the stairs. She can hear Robin's bemused voice floating after them.

"Sage can code?"

Downstairs, he grips her hand, doubled in laughter, and soon Sage is laughing too. They clutch at each other for support, trying not to fall. His hands move to her shoulders and she feels so secure she might cry. He's so solid, so safe, so fucking alive.

"He looked ridiculous," Sebastian chokes between peals of laughter. His head hovers above Sage's shoulder, and then rests on it, giggles muffled into her flannel. He smells of soap, coffee, and faintly of cigarettes, and Sage wants to close the distance, to wrap her arms around him.

But she can't. Because he's going to leave her. She stiffens under his touch, and he quiets and steps away, the grin wiped from his lips. "Ah, sorry. I invaded your personal space."

Sage shrugs, all her focus on keeping a straight face. "You didn't. It's fine."

The sticky awkwardness is there again, like drops of humidity clinging to their skin. Clearing his throat, Sebastian turns on the TV and sits on the couch. "You can join me, if you'd like."

She sinks into the cushions beside him. Their thighs almost touch, and that's louder than anything the panicked weatherman has to say. Lost in her own head, Sage finds herself suppressing tears again. She wanted that moment to last. She didn't mean to make him stop, and she's cursing herself for stiffening.

Sitting together on the couch feels so fucking right and normal, and her throat constricts as she realizes it's temporary. That someday she'll reminisce about this, sad, a mere blip in her life. Her eyes burn as she admits to herself, she wants this to be more than a blip. The thought gives her the urge to run away, out into the weird rain, as far as her legs will take her.

"Sage? You okay?" Sebastian's leaning forward, waving his hand.

She jumps.

"You're a million miles away."

Heart hammering in her chest, Sage takes a deep breath. Fuck it."I- I'll really miss you when you move to Zuzu. We always have so much fun. Sorry, I want you to pursue your dreams, I promise, it just won't be the same once you're gone.”

Sebastian frowns, eyebrows knitted. "Sage..."

She knows how this part goes. He'll tell her she's nice, but he doesn't see her the same way, and he has to follow his ambitions. And how can Sage blame him? Who is she to deny him the opportunity? A pathetic sniffle escapes her. She can't believe she's allowed herself to get so attached to him, especially since she always knew he planned to leave.

"Sage." He's holding her shoulder now. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

Swallowing hard, she shakes her head. "No, sorry. What did you say?"

He smiles at her, with something tender and warm in his expression. And for the second time that day she finds herself weak in the knees. "I said I'm not sure if I'm moving to Zuzu."

Sage blinks. "What?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking a lot about what I want out of life, and I'm not sure if that lies in the city. Or, well, if it lies anywhere. Maybe it's something I can find wherever I am." He leans back into the couch. "I think I wanted to move to Zuzu so I could be alone. Which sounds weird, but-"

"It's easier to be alone in the city. I lived there, I know." Their eyes lock.

"Exactly. But lately, things aren't so bad. Maru and I have gotten closer. Abby's dating someone from Grampleton and it isn't weird with her. And," he pauses, his gaze still on hers, "I have you."

Sage's breaths are shallow as her heart thumps in her chest. She's not sure how to deal with the sincerity, the tenderness in his voice, and defaults to a joke. Her voice squeaks. "So...you're saying we're friends?"

He tilts his head a bit before he bursts into laughter again, clapping a palm to his forehead. "Yeah, Sage. We're definitely friends." He looks at her for a few moments longer. "So, don't feel sad. I'm not leaving, not anytime soon, at least. And if I ever do, you'll have plenty of warning."

Chewing on a fingernail, she nods. It's not definite, but maybe their time isn't limited. Maybe she can get over her crush and be a good friend to him as she has to Shane. A tiny bubble of hope rises in her chest.

"Hey." Sebastian leans close again, inches from her face. Her focus is hyper-sharp, aware of every molecule of space between them. "I bet this rain isn't shit. You wanna sneak out after everyone goes to sleep? I bet we can see a ton of frogs. They must be going crazy out there."

Her lips curl into a wide grin. "Yeah. I wanna experience the super scary green rain. Should we get some coffee?"

“Yoba, yes. But try not to laugh at Demetrius if he's still in that getup."

"No promises." They both smother giggles into their hands. "But I'll do my best." 

Sebastian’s POV

"We should dress light. We're gonna get soaked, anyway." Sebastian sneaks a glance at Sage, clad in a thin tank top and jean shorts. Already regretting the choice of words, he turns away and shucks his hoodie. "Lucky for us, my family goes to bed early. Shall we?” 

“Let's do it.” Chugging the rest of her coffee, Sage scratches Lenny’s ear before they creep up the staircase. The squeak of the front door freezes them in their tracks, but no one stirs. They tiptoe outside with bated breath. 

Lingering by the front door, Sage peers at the eerie glow bathing the Valley. “Maybe we should stay here a few minutes to make sure it's not gonna hurt us.” Rubbing her arm, she shoots him a bashful grin. 

“You scared?” Sebastian chuckles.

“Not scared, just practical.” Sage sticks her tongue out, then recoils as the rain hits it. “What the fuck? Seb, it tastes like mint!” 

Sticking his own tongue out, he jerks in surprise as a few drops fall into his mouth. The taste is sharp, minty, and a little peppery. “Shit, that's weird.” He tilts his head to the sky. “I kinda dig it."

Below, Pelican Town is visible through the green haze. The sky above, so wide and open, fills him with thoughts of potential. Sebastian moves to Sage's side, leaning on the house.

He's a tightly wound ball, stuffed to the brim with fizzing excitement. It could be the caffeine, or the novelty, but he suspects most of it is the fact that Sage is there, and they have an entire night ahead of them. 

“Well, we haven't disintegrated yet. Think you're comfy to go out?” 

Sage answers by tugging him into the downpour. “We're already pretty wet. Might as well!” 

Taking the lead, Sebastian pulls her onto the path down the mountain. The air is thick with the lush smells of grass, moss, and damp earth. Everything shimmers through a sheen of emerald. He's never seen the path look so beautiful, so gorgeous. 

Sage keeps close. His skin tingles when her cold arm brushes against his. Trying to distract himself, he peers further into the gloom. “Spooky, isn't it?” 

She nods. “Yeah, but it's kinda delicious how creepy it is, you know?” Bending down, she inspects the wildflowers lining the trail. “Wow, there's already so much new growth.” 

Crouching beside her, he runs his fingers over a rock. It's fuzzy with a thick layer of moss. A frog leaps from behind, and he lights up as Sage catches it between her palms. 

“Check this little guy out! He's a cutie, isn't he?” 

The sight of her holding a frog, beaming, sends his heart into overdrive. With a soft huff, he touches its bumpy skin. “Very cute.” 

Careful not to harm it, Sage places the frog into the undergrowth. “Bet this is a total party for him.” Her smile is affectionate, reaching the depths of her eyes. “Let's leave him to it.” It hops deeper into the trees, croaking. 

“Have I ever told you I love frogs?” 

Sage blinks at him. “No, but I can totally see it. You both prefer damp and dark spaces, right? No wonder you stay in that basement all the time.” 

He scoffs in mock indignation. “I leave the house sometimes! I'm outside right now.” 

“Yeah, in a damp, dark space.” 

Grumbling, Sebastian pokes her side, but warms at her teasing, the kind only a friend could get away with. Somehow, with her, the playful jabs feel bubbly and fun. He watches Sage as she wanders ahead, hair plastered flat and skin glistening in the faint light. 

She lets out a cry as she slips, falling forward. Without thinking, Sebastian reaches out, hooking an arm around her waist. Tumbling down the path, they land in a tangled heap, her cheek smushed against his chest. 

Groaning, Sage rubs her arm. "Oww. You okay, Seb?"

"Yeah." Placing a palm on her head, Sebastian holds her steady as he sits up, legs twined with hers. She looks at him with her wide gaze and fuck, he wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, to press her back into the soft ground and take her. 

Neither of them make any effort to move. Clearing his throat, he tears his eyes from hers and wipes a smear of mud from her arm. “You okay?” 

Sage drops her face to his shoulder, letting out a shaky laugh. “I'm terrific, thanks for asking. And thanks for catching me.” A pause. “Well, sort of.” 

The most reluctant he can remember being in ages, he stands, extracting his limbs from hers, and helps Sage to her feet. They've ended up near Pierre's. The rain falls in sheets, tinting Pelican Town a verdant green. Sebastian touches his shoulder to hers. "So, what next? The world's our oyster."

"Mmm, how about the beach? I wanna see the ocean." Sage bends to wipe debris from her bare legs. Swallowing, Sebastian notices how her sodden shirt clings to the curves of her waist and hips.

"Lead the way." He says that so he can catch her if she slips again. Definitely not so he can peek at her form. No, definitely not.

As cobblestone turns to sand, Sebastian marvels at the endless sky. Thunder rumbles, a booming echo, and he and Sage grin at each other. The ocean, an oddly calm pool of jungle green, beckons him. 

Sebastian isn't usually a swimmer, but something about the hue and otherworldly feeling in the air draws him near. He pushes through tiny waves and turns to find Sage. She's at the shore, folded in on herself.

Offering a hand, he calls to her. "What? We're already soaked. Come on, we should clean off."

On tentative feet she approaches, and clutches at his arm. "Don't let go, okay?"

She doesn't have to ask him twice. Gripping her shoulders, he guides her in. The tide swirls around them, surprisingly warm and gentle. She wades in up to her waist and stops. Startled, Sebastian realizes she's trembling. "Sage? Are you okay?"

"I'm alright. I do have a slight fear of water." She clutches her arms to her torso "But this isn't too bad. Just give me a minute to get used to it."

"We can leave if this is too much."

"No, this is good. I want to confront it, you know?"

She releases her grip on him and ventures a bit further in, gasping as she's submerged up to her chest. His heart turns soft as her fingers skim the surface, as she lets out a shaky giggle. 

Sinking to his knees, Sebastian disappears, washing his skin. He rockets up, sending spray flying into the air. A few feet off, Sage sways, eyeing him.

"We'll need to take a shower when we go home. You're still covered in mud." Sebastian splashes her, grinning. She snorts, eyes dancing with a playful gleam he can't quite identify, and his mouth goes dry. "I mean, showers. You can go first."

The smallest smirk flits over her face before she ducks beneath the sea. Emerging, she gasps, covering her mouth. "I did it! I went underwater!" She jumps, as well as she can, and embraces him. "I've never been able to do it before."

"That's great, Sage." Peering at her, Sebastian returns the hug. He doesn't know why it's such a big deal, but he’s happy for her. He's idiotically happy, as if he might burst. 

And, same as when they'd laughed together under her bed, he knows it's time to pull back before he acts on a reckless impulse. "Come on. It's midnight and we're hopped up on caffeine. Let's check out the forest."

They waddle out of the ocean, taking one last look as they cross into town, toward the forest. Sebastian snickers as they pass Sam's house. “Sam would be so pissed if he found out we were out here without him.” 

Sage tosses him an amused smile. “Our little secret, then?” 

Sebastian likes the sound of that. He likes it a lot. The entrance to the forest yawns, the sound of the downpour muted as they pass into the trees. The scent of wet earth hangs in the air.

Raindrops slide from leaves, glittering in the lamplight outside Marnie's ranch. Sage tilts her face up, catching them on her tongue, laughing, laughing open and unabashed, as a child would. 

And it strikes him, he feels young, as if he's a kid again. That free, easy sensation he rarely got to experience. Somehow, with her, he can experience that wonder. It's something he's never known. 

He's standing, stunned at the thought, when she grabs his hand, a mischievous grin on her face. 

Pulling him along, she springs forward and lands in the middle of a giant puddle. Droplets of water, tiny emeralds, fly out in slow motion as her laugh, that beautiful sound, echoes around them. 

The world is a blur, of falling rain and its soft roar, yet through it all Sage is clear, in sharp focus. And without thinking, Sebastian’s jumping with her, sending spray sparkling into the air and joy reverberating deep into his soul. They jump like children until they're breathless, until they collapse against each other again, awash in their fits of mirth.

Wiping his brow, Sebastian pulls away, watching her. Sage nearly glows in the dim light. Her hair’s plastered to her face, and bits of seaweed cover her body. Streaks of dirt paint her arms and legs. 

She's beautiful. The thought soaks into his brain and renders him speechless as she dissolves into giggles, head thrown back, gripping the sleeves of his t-shirt. The rain patters onto their bodies, warm, gentle, and steady.

Catching her breath, Sage prods his shoulder. "Hey, space cadet. Mind if we check on my animals?"

In that moment, he's pretty sure he'd follow her anywhere she asked. "Let's go."

Sebastian almost trips when they exit the forest - the grass on Sage's farm has grown at least a foot since they left only hours ago. She barrels into it with a wild expression. "More feed for my livestock! This is perfect - I won't have to buy it from Marnie." She suppresses a smile. "Sorry, Marnie."

Wading through, they pass by the fields. Sage's tomatoes are secure under the tarps, and the land is still, save for the rain’s consistent patter. As they peek into the barns, the chickens and cows sleep, peaceful in their homes. Sage sags, holding onto the doorframe. "I'm so relieved. Was worried this would hurt them."

Laughing, Sebastian pokes her shoulder. "Well, we've tasted it and swam in it, so...I think by now we can say it's safe."

"You might have a point." Sage sneezes. "I'm a bit chilly. What about you?"

"Hot as a furnace, actually, but if you're cold, we can go home."

She turns toward the farmhouse. For a moment, Sebastian's heart sinks, thinking she's about to say she'll stay at her place tonight. Instead, she snaps her attention back to him and motions toward the mountain. "Yeah, let's go home."

Home.

Their trek up is slippery, the path covered with weeds and wildflowers. Between gasps and giggles they stumble, clutching handfuls of slick grass and dodging frogs. Even the trees are overgrown, branches hanging heavy with new leaves and tendrils of moss.

Sage looks up, brushing the lush greenery. After a moment of thought, she plucks a leaf and tucks it into her pocket. Sebastian cocks his head.

"A souvenir," she says, with a wistful smile. As they arrive at the house, the rain tapers off, fading to a few stray sprinkles. Silent, they gaze once more over Pelican Town and the sea beyond. Taking a chance, Sebastian shifts closer. She doesn't move.

"You're shivering, Sage. C'mon, let's get inside."

The door and wooden floors are traitorous, squeaking as they tiptoe inside. On quiet feet, with stifled giggles, they creep downstairs and into Sebastian's basement.

"You can shower first, get rid of that chill. Fresh towels are in the closet." Passing Sage's bag to her, he watches as she disappears into his attached bathroom and closes the door. Sebastian sheds his sodden clothing and exchanges it for a t-shirt and shorts. Sinking onto his couch, he finds himself once again trying very hard not to think about the girl showering ten feet to his right.

Funny how that keeps happening.

Minutes later, she emerges in a cloud of steam, wearing pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair, no longer soaked but damp, hangs in wavy clumps. She lets out a content sigh and flops beside Sebastian.

Stiffening, he realizes she carries the scent of his body wash. It elicits a reaction he'd rather not think about. "I'll shower now." Leaping to his feet, he grabs a new set of clothes and darts into the bathroom, turning the tap to the coldest temperature he can stand.

He scrubs himself with vigor, keeping his thoughts on a line of code, on cleaning the toilet, anything to keep his mind from straying where it shouldn't. As he towels off and dresses, he takes a deep, steadying breath.

She’s sitting with her back to the sofa, cuddling with Lenny when he steps out. Her half-dry hair forms little wisps, framing her face. As she bounces her leg, Sebastian notices a tattoo. "I didn't know you had ink. Can I see?" 

"Oh!" Sage extends her leg forward, foot pointed. A tall plant with pink flowers and green leaves wraps around her ankle. "It's sage. Thought it'd be funny to have my namesake put on me." Her eyes rise to meet his as he crouches and traces its lines with his fingers. "By the way, you never told me about yours."

"Ah, you mean the one on my shoulder and neck?" He pulls on the collar of his shirt, giving her a better view. Goosebumps erupt over his skin, his breath hitching, as she leans in to brush her thumb against it. "It's a wing. Partly for Mom, y'know, Robin, and partly for freedom. I dunno, I thought it was a cool concept at the time."

"I dig it. Cooler than mine, at least it's not super literal."

Sebastian flashes her a crooked smile. "Thanks. I have another, but, uh." He points to his hip, covered by his sleep pants. "It's here. A frog."

Sage beams and he feels heat tingeing his cheeks. "Sorry," she giggles, "I swear I'm not making fun of you. It's pretty cute how you love frogs so much."

And now he's definitely blushing. Clearing his throat, he covers her with a spare blanket. "Here." He slumps beside her. "Can I say something?"

Tossing him some of the covers, she nods. "Of course. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just, tonight was fun. I felt like a little kid with you. I, uh, I didn't experience that much when I was young."

He tips his head, peering at her from the corner of his eye. It's an invitation, a hole in his walls. Sebastian's raw, his chest wrenched open as he waits for her reaction.

Sage's eyes soften. "I know what you mean. That wasn't really a thing for me either, except the few times I visited the Valley." 

She turns onto her side and studies him. "I felt it too. Like a little kid. Fun. Free." A wistful expression passes over her face. "For what it's worth...I'm glad you can be that way with me."

Swallowing hard, Sebastian mirrors her position. "Do I...do you experience that? With me, I mean."

"Experience what?"

He huffs. "I'm asking if you can be yourself. If you don't have to put on a front when you're with me."

"Oh. I've never had to put on a mask for you. I feel safe with you, Sebastian." Her gaze burns into his. "That's another thing I didn't get much of growing up."

One of his few fond childhood memories resurfaces, imprinted in his mind. He was five or six, and a biting chill had gripped Zuzu. Robin swaddled him in blankets, snug in her arms, and read How The Grinch Stole Christmas. When the Grinch's heart grew three sizes, she'd clutched at her own, laughing and tickling his side.

His chest felt warm, then, and slightly tight, as if his heart were growing, too.

And now that warmth and tightness is back, spreading through his entire body as his friend, best friend if he's honest, tells him he makes her feel safe.

Slowly, they're revealing more to each other.

She leans on his shoulder, yawning. The scent of his body wash mixed with her skin wafts through the air, wreathing around them.

Ahh, fuck it.

Sebastian grabs the remote and turns on the TV, flipping stations until he lands on a movie. Before long, Sage's breathing slows, and she slips into sleep, resting on him, her face a mask of peace.

Haha, you're so fucked. You are so, so fucked.

Peering at her, so close he can count her eyelashes, he accepts it. Hell, maybe it’s not fucked at all, but something good. As gently as possible, he picks her up, settling her into the couch's cushions. He lingers as he tucks the blanket around her, brushing his curled fingers over her cheek.

From his bed, he watches her until his lids grow heavy, still warm, soft, and vulnerable. He sleeps better than he has in months.

[the-witch-with-the-raven-tattoo]

After about a decade of building up my crystal collection, I can no longer close my eyes to what I've been supporting. Far from the good vibes that crystals are purported to have, I need to be honest that their trade funds the same human rights abuses and environmental destruction that I've spent most of my life decrying. I need to address this cognitive dissonance within myself, and can no longer endorse buying mass-market crystals anymore. I call myself an earth-worshipper, or nature-worshipper, yet I'm contributing to the destruction of the Earth and her people. This no longer sits right with me. Yes, there are likely minerals in my phone that were mined using less-than-ethical practices, however a cell phone in this day and age is kind of a necessity. Decorative crystals and fossils, though, are more difficult to justify in this way.

I'm still going to keep the ones I have for now, because, welp, the damage has already been done, and getting rid of them now won't undo what I've been endorsing with my dollar. I still have a box of gems that I bought to make wire-wrapped jewelery with, and I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with those, so they're tucked away until I can decide.

If there's interest, I may make some pieces with them and put them up for sale as a Crystal Clearout sale, since I did spend a lot of money on those supplies. Or I might wear or gift them. We will see.

Back to my spiritual practice. What am I going to use instead?

River rocks!

Or lake rocks. Park rocks. Parking lot rocks. Farm rocks. Forest Rocks. Anything except store-bought is fine. Look at these cool rocks I've found in my city so far! These are geologically tied to the place I live, they carry the history on the land I'm on, which is not mine to live on. It is Treaty 6 territory—the traditional and ancestral territory of the Cree, Dene, Blackfoot, Saulteaux and Nakota Sioux. This territory is home to the Métis Settlements and the Métis Nation of Alberta, Regions 2, 3 and 4 within the historical Northwest Métis Homeland.

These stones carry the memory of the people who were here before me, and that of a not-so-distant history I need to address time and time again, examine my own biases, and do what I can to address inequalities right here, right now. They are a connection to this land, and those who live on it.

These stones can also hold my own memories, for instance this petrified wood reminds me of a day a friend and I went rock-hunting by the river, and on a trip to Ontario with this same friend, we found some jade (I think). Which brings me to another point. I am not a geologist. I plan to learn about minerals local to me, but I'll never have the assurance of some shopkeeper (whatever that's worth) that what I'm holding is 100% a piece of pure amethyst, and here is a list of its properties. Instead, I'll be able to find my own meaning in the stones, feathers and flowers I find while walking in the world, and use them in my practices the way I feel intuitively guided to.

In spiritual practices, what we are working with is energy and intention. The rest are simply tools, symbols for our brain to understand what we are channeling towards or away from. The most important quality you can develop as a witch, a pagan, a yogi, a spiritualist, whatever you wish to call yourself, is self-trust. Trust that you are enough. Trust that this stone made its way to you so that you would find it exactly when you did. Trust that the herbs you lovingly grew, watered, bundled and dried are sufficient for clearing any stale energies. Learn from those who came before you, but at a certain point, you have to free yourself from reliance on corporations, merchants, readers, authors, course creators, and anyone else looking to make a buck off your lack of experience and confidence.

When you have a true need, harken not to others' greed. (the Wiccan Rede)

Consumerism has its hooks in us to such a point where we feel like we have to buy our way out of all of our real or perceived inadequacies.

Feeling down? Buy this sun lamp!

Tummy hurts? It's this scary new syndrome I just made up! Peer review, what's that? Nevermind. Buy this supplement!

Want to feel really cool and attractive? Buy this new outfit!

Want to make friends? Learn a new hobby! Oh, but this hobby requires you to buy all this gear before anyone thinks you're serious about it! And make sure you buy a t-shirt that says you're into this hobby while you're at it, so you can talk about it to everyone!

McSpirituality works the same way. Feel like you don't belong? It's definitely a past life thing, buy a reading with me to find out! Looking for love? Make sure you buy a rose quartz to send a lover your way within 24 hours. Hmm, it didn't work? It must not be big enough. Make sure you buy this one instead! Trying to get into meditation? You'll need to buy a zafu, some mala beads, and a buddha head with some very questionable history Are you broke after all these purchases? You can just buy this abundance generating spell kit, and this $10K course (I have seen this price point, it's not hyperbole) on dissolving your subconscious blocks to abundance!

It's not your fault, it's the system we all live in. I was, and still am, immersed in it too. If you're in a tough place, it can be so easy to be swept up by the promise of a quick fix, because spiritual work is hard. You'll have to confront yourself in some tough ways, work through traumatic experiences and spend years building discipline and focus.

It's a lot easier to just walk into a crystal shop and pick the one you like, isn't it? But I want to remind myself that life doesn't work that way.

Do you just walk into a store and pick out the partner, the job, the house, the experiences, the circumstances that look prettiest?

Okay, maybe some of you do if you're very lucky or have certain privileges, but these choices aren't always the ones that guarantee long-term compatibility or happiness.

In real life, it's a lot more like walking down a riverbank with a friend, catching up on life, and showing each other the cool thing you found, maybe deliberating on what it might be. Your rock might look different than hers, but you found it and it feels good to you. Maybe the shape feels satisfying and built just for your hand. You feel like it was waiting for you all this time.

Or maybe it's like walking home after a difficult day, and seeing the little sparkle of something glimmering in the sunlight. Maybe this represents hope and silver linings. Maybe a bird eyes you as you examine your rock, offering you company and understanding in a way that words fail to.

That feeling certainly isn't for sale in stores, or online. If I find it at a garage sale, I'll let you know.