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medakakurokami · 1 year ago

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I finished over 100 visual novels, here’s a long post with some recommendations

Last month I hit 100 Finished VN’s over on the VNDB and I thought I’d shoot out some recommendations while the Steam Summer Sale is going on (even though some of these aren’t going to be on Steam)

I already have finished up some stragglers and caught some shorter titles so it’s up to 104 Finished, but all the better. I have been reading some VN’s since 2015, but it really became a hobby and a genre I was invested in during Covid lockdown in 2020. I had trouble getting into some of the popular titles, but a couple of games that were lesser known at that time really blew me away that year and I started digging more into the medium. I still have a lot to try out and other classics I’m still interested in trying, but here’s a top 10 I’m confident in recommending to most people, at least the kinda people that would follow this blog. A few of these recommendations are actually multi-part series, but hopefully accessible all around.

Planetarian ($10 on Steam and Switch, ~$5 on sale)

This is a very late entry onto this list but I think it’s an easy recommendation. This is a very short 2-4 hour visual novel that got a well received 2 hour movie adaptation in 2016, but it was strong enough that even while knowing the plot everything still hit hard. It is a story set 30 years after an apocalyptic event destroys most of the world, as a human junk-trader comes across a planetarium with a somehow-still-functional robot named Hoshino still performing her daily duties after 30 years without customers or coworkers. It can come across as a bit saccharine, but it is a quick, well made, and effective tearjerker.

Narcissu 1st & 2nd (Free on Steam)

Narcissu’s first two parts are pretty compelling stories to do with suicidal ideation within the scope of the terminally ill. Which is to say they’re also real tear jerkers, and pretty open about some harsh self-reflective emotions. They both have stellar endings, and can be quite immersive despite the very limited artwork (if the screencap looks weird, the game’s art exists within a narrow strip on the screen, with a sentence or two reading out the story underneath it). Maybe the least accessible on this list, but a $0 price tag makes it easier in some sense to get into.

Umineko no Naku Koro ni / When The Seagulls Cry (~$50 on Steam, $30 on sale)

Umineko you’ve probably already heard of, and here’s me recommending it. Umineko comes in two parts, on Steam referred to as the Questions Arc and the Answers Arc. Despite the split, the overall story follows the events of a certain day on Rokkenjima Island in 1986 as a family meets to discuss their inheritance and their family’s mysteries. Unbeknownst to them they are soon haunted, over and over again, by the revenant of the Golden Witch said to live in the woods of their family’s island.

I’m in the minority of preferring the Questions Arc, where well written and deeply human characters find themselves in deeply inhumane and nonsensical scenarios. The Answers Arc back seats some of that to start delving into an esoteric explosion of clues and backstories, and was still very entertaining even if I was more invested in the episodic stories than the overarching mystery. This may also be seen as inaccessible, $30-50 for a slightly older title and over 140 hours long on average playthroughs, but it is deeply absorbing.

Witch on the Holy Night a.k.a. Mahoyo ($40 on PS4 and Switch)

Mahoyo is me and Nasu’s marriage counselor, it really made me see the good in him. It follows a young witch co-habitating with her magic colleague and the puppy-like boy that unwittingly steps into their world at risk to his own life, just as unexplained apparent murders are witnessed in their town.

This could possibly be a higher level recommendation, though it was apparently intended to have sequels and you can somewhat feel that in the isolated feeling of its main conflict. Despite this, the game is definitely worth experiencing for its classy charm and extremely well made action sequences that at times make you forget you’re not watching a full anime film. It’s also a showcase of Nasu’s strengths in writing character interactions and comedy, and he finally lets Show take over and stops Telling you piles of mage society worldbuilding quite so often. It is also has some of the highest quality production value I’ve ever seen, second maybe to...

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon ($20 on Steam/Switch, less than $10 on sale)

Marco and the Galaxy Dragon is an explosive opera of art, energy, color, and of course music. It follows the orphaned Marco and her dragon compatriot Arco as they hunt for treasure across the cosmos, finding their way to Earth on the hunt for Marco’s mother.

If Umineko’s 140 hours seems steep, Marco has you covered with a quick 6 hour rundown of a rebellious orphan fighting back against her space alien menace to find her own sense of place and identity in the universe, along with ALL the friends she made along the way. If Mahoyo feels like an anime film sometimes, Marco actually just has fully animated FMV cutscenes that are fun as hell and have their own unique artstyle to the VN itself. Thousands of pieces of artwork and a 52-track OST fill the game’s short runtime with no cut corners and and overflow of passion from the devs. Honestly even if you don’t want to read it go buy it, it’s cheap and they earned it.

White Album 2 (You’ll have to be creative to find this one)

This is the only recommendation that’s currently only available in an adults only 18+ Rating for the English translation. That being said, it’s one of the few erotic VN’s that felt justified in its pornographic scenes. The story is split into two releases: Opening Chapter and Closing Chapter.

Opening is a short and powerfully delivered love triangle narrative following Haruki, Setsuna, and Touma as their hastily formed 3-man light music band falls into itself with feelings. It’s charming but gut wrenching and sweeps you into its drama very effectively before kicking you on your ass in the end.

Closing Chapter is a long and drawn out disassembling of their lives as they fail to heal from the wounds of the relationships seen in Opening. It, to great effect, takes the readers own experience with how fun and passionate the Opening Chapter was, and shows how trying to cling to halcyon days can make us so dispassionate about our present lives. Painful stuff! Good music, too.

The Princess, The Stray Cat, and Matters of the Heart 1 & 2

a.k.a. Noratoto ($40 on Steam for both, ~$15 for both on sale)

This is a very personal recommendation, and maybe one more easy to make on this blog where many of my followers might be receptive to sincere but slapstick ecchi comedy as art. Every route is highly different however and to me, some are pretty average for galge, while others stand out as amazing. The comedy writing as well feels like it was written by someone with actual comic writing experience, and not just regurgitating the usual ecchi manga jokes.

The general premise of Noratoto is the protagonist Nora, being transformed into a cat by Patricia the princess of the Netherworld, and he must reverse this curse via a kiss before it becomes permanent. A benign fairy tale premise, but one that somehow gives way to underlying stories about existence and finding purpose in families and where that leaves those without families or with abusive or divided families (it is from the same developers as Marco and the Galaxy Dragon, and the themes of finding identity without family match up very closely). Uniquely it is a visual novel written somewhat in 3rd person, narrated by a motherly voice as if the VN was being read to you as a bedtime story.

Like I said, it is dependent on route and some come across as your usual ecchi gal-game schtick, but some stick out, and if every route was as high quality as Nobuchina’s in the 2nd game, it would probably be my favorite visual novel.

The Original Ace Attorney Trilogy ($30 on most platforms, $10 on sale)

You’ve almost certainly heard of Ace Attorney already and have most likely played it. This is me telling any Ace Attorney fans reading that the original trilogy still reigns supreme (regardless of Turnabout Big Top). This is also me telling anyone who has held out on trying Ace Attorney to try it, and to start with the original trilogy.

Obviously this trilogy follows the Meme Man Himself, Phoenix Wright, as he defends the innocent and brings the guilty to justice acting as both lawyer and his own main investigator. While each case presents a unique mystery, the original trilogy has an underlying arc that reaches from beginning to end with a massive conspiracy that Phoenix has to breach to bring justice to the perpetrators and resolve the memory and regrets of his beloved mentor.

These games have some speedbumps as you may be banging your head against the wall trying to find the right evidence, but the experience that breaks through does so with gusto, succeeding on what it sets out to be: games that make you feel like you’ve brought justice to the world.

Utawarerumono Trilogy ($40/60 each on Steam, trilogy bundle $62 on sale)

Utawarerumono was my first proper visual novel, and it set the standards pretty high. I’ve posted about it several times in the last few years, and it remains one of my favorites. It is a labor of love on the part of the developers (the same developers as White Album 2), who developed the latter two games over the course of several years and have made this the spearhead of their company for the time being. Which makes sense, since it is about war.

The first game follows a masked man who is given the name Hakuoro waking up in a rural village with amnesia, confused about the strange population of beast-men living there. Despite not understanding his situation, his ingenuity brings the village prosperity. When the local lords try to put the village under their thumb, Hakuoro and the villagers are able to turn the tides against them. Their village grows into a kingdom as Hakuoro seeks the mysteries of himself and the world around him.

The latter two games pick up some twenty years after the conclusion of the first, and follow a man who is given the name Haku, waking up in the woods with amnesia confused about the... you get it. He is met by Kuon, a young girl on her way traveling to the capital of their nation of Yamato. Haku graciously accepts her help getting out of the cold woods, and decides to join her to the capital. As events play out, Haku finds himself under the direct command of the nation’s leader the Mikado, and carries out missions on his behalf as the nation continues to drag itself into war and conflict and Haku also seeks the truth of his identity.

These games are expansive in scope while still putting a large focus on the day-to-day lives of its characters. Around 100 hours across all three games it is impressive how much story it manages to fit in, but the pacing does bounce around between sweeping conflict and sleepy conversations. It is also in part, a strategy RPG game with the battles in the war being controlled by the player. These are decently made, especially well in the third game, but don’t ask too much of the player and the story remains the main focus and biggest portion of the runtime.

The House In Fata Morgana a.k.a. Fatamoru

($40 complete version on PS4/Switch, ~$40 main game + expansion on Steam)

I’ve gushed about this enough on this tumblr, I’ll keep it brief.

You are a formless soul who is led by the hand of a mysterious maid through the doors of a mansion on an unknown plane of existence. Through each door lies a story of the house in a different era, all following people bound together in ways that leave them cruelly and violently undone by the end of their stories. The connection between these stories, the mystery of the house and the supposed witch that resides within, and the mystery of You the wandering soul all slowly unravel in a bloody show of catharsis and soul. The game is dripping with traumatic poetic text, grating beautiful music, and all of its atmosphere geared toward being oppressive yet enticing. One of the best things I’ve read.

Honorable mentions:

Va-11 Hall-A and Endless Mondays get shout outs as some of the best Original English Language VN’s I’ve read, with cool artstyles and a mature cast they manage to be fun and relatable. Va-11 Hall-A delivers a great arc for its protagonist and Endless Mondays has great dialogue on the threat of automation of creative industries.

Grisaia Trilogy and Hatsumira are both absolutely raucous trilogies that are a lot of fun. Not wholly recommendable to all, Grisaia has some strong moments and a hilarious unique cast but is a mess overall (but we love Michiru). Hatsumira is a bit more consistent, a more stable and fantasy-oriented Grisaia.

A.I. The Somnium Files duology are detective games with highly divisive endings, but great comedy and characters that make them very easy to get through and enjoy the whole way to the end. It’s just a toss-up whether you’ll like that ending.

Sakura Wars games are finally being translated, and they are a great showing for anyone who wants to try some classic dating sim stuff but with some pizazz thrown in with the setting and mecha combat.

The Tears to Tiara duology by the same developers of Utawarerumono and White Album is also one to keep an eye out for. The first game's definitive version isn't available in English and the second game is stuck on the PS3 and no longer available digitally, but if they ever come out on Steam they are worth your time.

Nanairo Reincarnation and Kinkoi: Golden Loveriche are also two solid ecchi comedy galge. Both have surprisingly deep and genuinely heartbreaking underlying mysteries and conclusions.

I still have a lot I wanna read, Planetarian is the only Key novel I’ve read. On the docket are Labyrinth of Galleria, Little Busters, the 9 -nine- series, and Kara no Shoujo and White Album 1 releasing on Steam this year. Some classics I didn’t mention are Fate/Stay Night, Muv Luv, Steins Gate. Muv Luv I read Extra and enjoyed it, but never pulled the trigger on reading the rest, I may at some point on a whim. Steins;Gate I played through half of on PS3 and now my PS3 is in the closet, the VN is really good and has a unique atmosphere to the anime, buuuuuuut knowing the plot has made it hard to want to restart on PC or another console. Steins;Gate is good, if anyone is reading this far and hasn’t seen the anime or read the VN, do it.

#long post #i'll only tag the main ones #planetarian #narcissu #umineko #witch on the holy night #marco and the galaxy dragon #white album 2 #the princess the stray cat and matters of the heart #noratoto #ace attorney #utawarerumono #the house in fata morgana

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velnna · 2 months ago

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i want to say, i ADORE the limb differences (other words for 'missing limbs' that i prefer to use) in the under garden, from the art of them that youve posted on here!! absints lower arm for example :)

i havent read yet, i havent been able to scrounge up the money to buy (hopefully soon!!) but im super excited to buy and read for many reasons, this among them!!

but just, seeing characters with limb differences who are still cool and important and often seem powerful.. it just gives me hope and makes me feel seen!! fantasy is my ansolute favorite genre, but im disabled and i havent found much fantasy stuff that includes disabled characters at All, i can count on one hand the amount of disabled characters ive seen in fantasy stuff :,)

i dont have a limb difference myself (degenerative disc disease and worsening hearing for me) but seeing ANY disabled character is just so lovely, it brings me joy :,) so thank you for including characters with disabilities!!!! it doesnt go unnoticed, and its heavily appreciated and wonderful to see!!

it also makes me curious, do you have any characters in the under garden who are disabled in other ways?? vision, hearing, mobility related conditions, etc? having just one type of disability repped is also amazing regardless of if you have others of course, im just curious :)

and if you ever need a disability-related sensitivity reader/info person based on lived experience for anything, if you ever make a post about it id definitely hit you up XD

have a lovely week, and i hope this ramble isnt too huge haha!

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it when you do manage to read it 🖤🖤🖤

The Under Garden has a couple of separate "storylines" with their own casts and we haven't set everything in stone for most of them, so take this with a grain of salt. Amongst primary and secondary cast, we have a couple of people with disabilities/chronic pain from injuries, medical complications, etc, some more explicitly shown than others. Technically Ashton, for instance, has a degenerative condition (loosely linked to the idea of butterflies having a very short lifespan after cocooning) and it's a big part of his role in the story overall

There's other instances of characters that could potentially have parallels to real world illnesses or disabilities but they're so intertwined with magical/fantasy mechanics that it's up to each reader to see how they feel about it.

Oh and we're toying with the idea of one of our main characters having a severe hearing impediment but it's a WIP because it might actually affect the plot

#ask #the under garden comic

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hyqerfixation · 2 years ago

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WAITER SAT AT THE TABLE

-art by ringorenji88 on twitter.

OKKK YAKUZA PILLARS WE LOVE..

Kny boys Drabble NOT FINISHED..

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

"oh shit for real? The pillars are here!? " the pianist asked in shock

"yeah u can see them in the vip seating on the other side of the casino"

"oh for fuck sakes, another fight is probably gonna happen some time soon. "

"you bet"

After hearing the two colleagues gossip Y/n placed her old hairbrush back into her bag.

“What the fuck are pillars?” Y/n thought.

The strip club was definitely something,a popular angle wing in the outskirts of the city of japan

But how could she describe this club?

Utter shit

Female hookers only had a little bit to get ready for their customers, and the bartenders had even less time to change into their uniforms and set the stools down before the casino gets ready

Too add on, the club didn't have a wonderful dressing room for performers to get "all dolled up," as many owners put it, so she dressed up in the ladies employees restroom as long with her female colleagues.

____________________________________________

"HELP Y/N I CANT ZIP MY DRESS UP AND I HAVE TO GO OUT ANY MINUTE!"

"ume calm down jesus fucking crist, Turn around ill do the zip."

Y/N zipped up the performers outfit, which was way more flashier then her skutty uniform.

"daki ur late ur supposed to be on stage letter A right now!"

Another performer exclaimed, rushing daki out of the females room.

"OKAY OKAY I'M COMING ALRIGHT" daki turned around to y/n who was also supposed to be out on her shift right now.

"LET'S MEET UP LATER MM K?"

Y/N sighed lightly while giving a suttle smile

"sure" y/n replied on her way to follow daki to the exit.

Y/n exited the bathroom, leaving her aftershow clothes in on the bathroom sink as long as her bag, and began shifting her fingerless gloves.

“I should’ve pretended to sick today smh” she thought.

"hey y/n! What's up w being late all the time. We could've had a smoke break together."

"i would of been here five minutes ago but I was helping your sister "

Y/ns workmate, also known to be gyutaro rolled his eyes as he gave y/n her note pad and biro pen.

"whatever dude, but come tell me when your on your next break so we can go smoke mm k?"gyutaro said

Y/N waved him goodbye as she slowly walked away.

"we could've talked longer if u came on the right fucking time."

"mm k!" y/n mimicked, taking notes how the siblings act like each other.

Y/N walked out of the bar counter and pushed a stool aside her to continue on to taking orders.

Yet while she looked around she noticed all her work mates avoided the back left,also known as the more "mightier side". Was there someone big there? But if it was someone famous there wouldn't everyone be offering to take their order?

It didn't make sense.

Y/N walked towards to back without a ponder. There wasn't anyone to take the people's orders since the waiters scurried to take their orders, as if they were avoiding a certain table.

'whatever this is; i need that bag, so I guess I'm just going to have to deal with whatever hits me.' y/n thought.

High heels clanked on the ground while y/n search for a table to assist, only for-

"y/n! Y/n!"

She turned around.

"sasumaru? What's up with you?"

Sasumaru was one of y/ns closet friends at the casino, besides the siblings. She wanted to be a volley ball player but failed at everything ever since she was put under house arrest.

"I'm begging you to do that vip table! All of us are to scared to do it!"

"Well why, its not like they are gonna try to kill u for getting their order wrong."

Sasumaru laughed sarcastically

"they tried to kill yahaba because he asked if they wanted ice in their drink!" sasumaru exclaimed, rocking y/n back and fourth by the collar.

"whatever, I'll do it" y/n dead panned

"Are u so sure after hearing what I just told u!" sasumaru panicked even more

"yes it's fine I'll just do what they say, no questions, no ice."

Sasumaru stopped and starred at y/n

"Now will you let me go?" y/n asked.

"AAAAA UR SO COOL Y/N!!! SO BRAVE TOO, JUST LIKE ME"

Y/N pulled sasumaru off her and continued to walk to the vip room

'if u were brave like me, u would be walking to the vip lounge' y/n giggled to her self.

"hey babe what's ur number?"

"look at the fat in her back!"

"I would smack that"

Y/N grumbled to her self about these comments, much to her dismay shes pretty much used to the cat calling here. The manager doesn't really give a shit about the treatment his female employees get here.

'tch, whatever. Fucking saddos'

Y/N walked to the vip table, no in closer inspection she saw a group of men.

Rich men.

Rich and powerful men.

How could y/n tell they were powerful? Doesn't the silent tables of men around them tell you enough? What about the employees refusing to serve any where over here? Is that enough?.

"what could I get for you guys" y/n asked carefully, remembering what happend to yahaba.

"finally someone flashy to help us order!" one of the men said. His hair silver white with magenta eyes that popped. Jewellery coated his body with a expensive tuxedo.

"can I please just have some water? I hope that's okay." the other man said, he was way more bigger then the others and had a red beaded necklace on, his eyes were-wait, is he blind?

"CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME HOT WINGS" a booming voice asked, his eyes were orange and red, matching with his hair.

"shut the fuck up Kyojuro. I want a sex on the beach cocktail" another white haired male asked, his appearance way more scary then the others with his scars that show from his face to where the tuxedo is undone to show more scars.

"I want the same as sanemi!" the male from the start exclaimed again.

Y/N noted all of these

"anything else?"

"how about you darling?" the flashy man asked. y/n internally screamed inside.

"can uzui shut his mouth for ten seconds" the man known as uzui smacked the scar face beside him while the others laughed.

Y/N walked away when they finished their order.

Okay! Maybe they are a little bit imtimidating.

Yeah, especially when she realised she saw them on the news for murder half way through their order.

But it's fine. It won't bother her THAT badly. Would it?.

"what's up with you? You are all shaken up."

"I just realised I was taking the fucking pillars orders"

"Are you fucking stupid? Everyone knew that's why they stayed closer to the entrance."

Y/N clicked her tounge, she knew that she was stupid but she Just wanted some more money! Cut her some slack!

"I did hear the pianist talk about it outside of getting changed. I didn't really deep much into it though."

Gyutaro placed the drinks on a round black tray along with some hot wings.

"I mean it's your problem now, and to be honest if they didn't like you, you would have been dead by now."

Y/N awkwardly smiled, knowing shes fucked.

"yeah yeah whatever."

She grabbed the tray and started to walk back towards the mobsters

I mean are they really mobsters? even though how imtimidating they were, they somewhat respected you.

They respected you way more then other people you are close with.

"look at her body."

"she's hot."

"yo guys should I ask for her number?"

At this point y/n couldn't even hear the things that were said about her. She was too focused about the men on the Vip table. Is she scared? Incredibly. Is she going to act like nothings bothered her about them? Yes. She is.

The platform heels platters the floor, alarming the men on the table.

"I see your back so soon"

The bling guy said, clasping his hands together.

"took her time didn't she." the scarface complained, tapping his finger on the table.

"don't be so rude sanemi."

" and how the fuck am I being rude?!?"

Y/N placed their drinks down, ignoring how her body's shaking from the pillars infront of her.

"so lady! How long have you been working here?"

Y/N paused at what she was doing and looked up to the fire head who just asked her a question.

"just under a year."

Kyojuro nodded and smiled

"that's nice, you look so young though how old are you?"

Sanemi who sat on the edge of the table hanged his leg out

"I bet not a day over 19"

Y/N chuckled lowly, letting her guard down

"I'm 23"

Uzui spat his drink out

"HUH"

Gyomei smiled towards y/n, he felt comfortable around her arua.

He couldnt explain it, she just seems nice to hang around with.

Y/N chuckled again

"do I really look that young? -"

"NO WAY UR MY AGE"

Uzui shouted light heartily, maybe he could have a 4th wife.

"how about she sits down with us? Since u guys are obsessing over her like bitchy dogs."

Sanemi complained, true they were acting like dogs, but he would be lying if he didn't want to talk to y/n too.

"that's not a bad idea!" Rengoku exclaimed while tengen patterned on the the sofa like chair in between him and Kyojuro.

"how about you sit here precious?"

Y/Ns face paled, does she have a choice? I mean she doesn't mind sitting between them she's just worried her boss would think she's slacking off again.

"don't force her, remember she has a job to do." gyomei said to the two, for sanemi to agree

"I'll pay her to sit with me, her job is to get money from customers right? Come sit down with us darling."

Uzui said, while rengoku took a few papers out of his wallet.

"It's fine if you don't want to! We will still pay for our drinks." Rengoku re assured y/n.

Y/N smiled softly, forgetting her worries about any of them.

"cmon girl they will be asking all night if u don't say anything." sanemi grumbled, embarrassed of the two weirdos on the table with him.

"sure.but not for to long"

"BETTER THEN NOTHING!" Rengoku shouted, for uzui to nudge sanemi to move for y/n to get in.

Sanemi stood up and put his hand on her shoulder.

"come on uzui we don't have all day."

"Sorry my fatass Is making it harder to get out, I know you can't relate sanemi" uzui chuckled to make sanemi embarrassed. Y/n chuckled lowly, just to embarrass him more.

"whatever, in you get girl"

Y/N nudged over to Kyojuro, only to smile at each other while ignoring gyomei telling uzui to not body shame anyone.

"It's not my fault he fails at squats" uzui said nudging over to sit next to y/n

Which made her sandwiched between two physco extroverts who wears expensive tuxedos

Nothing else could get worse then it already is.

"so pretty face, what's your name?" sanemi asked, fed up of the name calling.

"I bet her name is really cool!"

"I bet its something snazzy"

Gyomei took a sip of his water and looked over to y/n

"whatever her name is, it would be beautiful."

Y/N was going to answer sanemis question once she had some of uzuis drink, that he offered her.

"my name is -"

"Y/N."

#demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #anime #kny x reader #kny yakuza au #thank you dear anon #aesthetic #art #gaming #writing #rengoku x reader #sanemi x reader #uzui x reader #gyomei x y/n #kny x y/n #hashiras #upper moons #gyutaro and daki

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artyandink · 3 months ago

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the art of heresy forged 1943

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, drinking, prostitution, smoking, mentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), Ben and Psyke being little shits, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, alcoholism, shitty dad, literal crack

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Confident - Demi Lovato

four - head to the back

1943:

The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain plates filled the modest dining room. The table was set simply, with a mismatched collection of plates and utensils that had seen better days, but they were polished and placed with care. The tablecloth, though worn, was clean, and a small vase of freshly picked wildflowers sat in the center, a touch of beauty in an otherwise plain setting. The smell of roasted chicken and potatoes lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of woodsmoke from the hearth.

You moved deftly around the small kitchen, hands familiar with the rhythm of preparing a meal for your family. The task had long since become second nature to you—boiling the potatoes, seasoning the chicken, making sure everything was just right. Though you were only nineteen, you’d taken on the role of caretaker in your family for as long as you could remember.

Edward, your father, sat at the head of the table, his expression a mixture of weariness and disinterest. His shirt was slightly rumpled, and his face bore the marks of too many nights spent with a bottle in hand. Though his presence was imposing, you’d learned to navigate around his moods, finding ways to keep the peace when necessary.

Your mother, Bethany, sat across from him, her thin frame wrapped in a shawl to keep warm. She was frail, her once vibrant eyes dulled by the illness that had taken hold of her over the past few years. Despite her condition, she managed a tired smile as you brought the food to the table.

“Thank you, dear,” Bethany said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at you with a mixture of pride and gratitude, though there was a sadness in her eyes that you tried to ignore.

“It’s nothing, Mama,” you replied, placing a plate in front of her. “Just rest and let me take care of everything.”

Beside her, your younger siblings, Elizabeth and Henry, waited eagerly for their dinner. Elizabeth was ten, with a mop of unruly curls and a mischievous grin that reminded you of your mother before she fell ill. Henry, just six years old, was wide-eyed and innocent, his curiosity about the world around him untainted by the hardships that had become your daily reality.

“Careful, it’s hot,” you warned as you placed the chicken in the center of the table. Elizabeth and Henry watched you with anticipation, their eyes lighting up as they caught sight of the meal you had prepared.

“Smells delicious, sis,” Elizabeth said, reaching for a potato as soon as you’d placed it in front of her.

“Wait until it’s cool enough to eat,” you chided gently, giving her a fond smile. “You don’t want to burn your mouth.”

Henry giggled, reaching for his fork with both hands. “I won’t burn my mouth. I’ll be really careful!”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair as you took your seat beside him. “I know you will, Henry. You’re always careful.”

Edward watched the scene unfold with a distant gaze, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey. You caught his eye briefly, offering him a small smile, but he only grunted in response, taking a long drink from his glass. The tension in the room was something you were used to by now—your father’s moods were unpredictable, and you’d learned to navigate around them, keeping your siblings safe from his occasional outbursts.

As the family began to eat, the conversation remained light, focusing on the small joys of the day. Elizabeth eagerly shared stories from school, her animated voice filling the room as she recounted her adventures with her friends. Henry, though quieter, chimed in occasionally with his own observations, his youthful enthusiasm infectious.

“And then Miss Turner said we’re going to start a garden at school!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll be growing vegetables and flowers, and we can take some home when they’re ready!”

Bethany smiled softly at her daughter’s excitement. “That sounds wonderful, darling. You’ll have to teach us all about gardening.”

Elizabeth beamed, nodding eagerly. “I will, Mama! I’ll make sure our garden is the best in the whole neighborhood!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm. It was moments like these that made the difficulties of your life bearable—seeing your siblings happy, even if only for a little while, gave you the strength to keep going.

As the meal continued, you kept an eye on your father, subtly ensuring that his glass remained half-full. You’d learned to manage his drinking as best you could, making sure he didn’t drink too much too quickly. It was a delicate balance, one that required constant attention, but you were determined to maintain it for the sake of your family.

When the meal was finished, you began to clear the table, gathering the plates and utensils while your siblings continued to chatter excitedly about their day. Your mother, exhausted from the effort of sitting up for so long, leaned back in her chair, her eyes closing as she listened to the sound of her children’s voices.

“Let me help, dear,” Bethany said softly, trying to push herself up from her chair.

You shook your head, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her seated. “No, Mama, you rest. I’ve got this.”

Bethany smiled weakly, her hand covering yours for a moment. “You’re a good girl,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

You returned her smile, though your heart ached at the sight of her so frail. “I just want to take care of you, Mama.”

As you moved to the kitchen to begin washing the dishes, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment despite the challenges you faced. This was your life—caring for your family, making sure everyone was safe and fed. It wasn’t easy, but it was the only life you knew, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sound of Elizabeth and Henry’s laughter filled the house as they played in the living room, their voices a reminder of the innocence that still existed within the walls of your home. You could hear them teasing each other, their playful banter bringing a smile to your face as you scrubbed the dishes clean.

Outside, the world was at war, the headlines filled with stories of battles fought far from your small town. But here, within the walls of your home, you found solace in the simple routines of daily life. The war had touched your family, as it had touched every family in the country, but you were determined to shield your siblings from its harshest realities for as long as you could.

As you finished washing the last dish and set it on the drying rack, you took a moment to look out the window at the darkening sky. The stars were just beginning to appear, tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of night. You wondered if your father had ever dreamed of something more—if he had ever looked up at the stars and wished for a different life. But those thoughts were fleeting, quickly replaced by the pressing demands of the present.

“Hey, sis, come see what I drew!” Henry’s voice called from the living room, breaking your reverie.

Drying your hands on a dish towel, you made your way to the living room where Henry and Elizabeth were sitting on the floor, surrounded by crayons and scraps of paper. Henry held up a drawing, his face beaming with pride.

“It’s a picture of us!” he announced, his eyes shining with excitement. “See, there’s you, and Mama, and Lizzie, and me!”

You knelt down beside him, taking the drawing in your hands. The lines were wobbly, the colors outside the lines, but it was a masterpiece in your eyes. “It’s beautiful, Henry,” you said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’re quite the artist.”

Elizabeth peered over your shoulder, giggling. “He made your hair purple!”

You laughed, pulling both of them into a hug. “I think I like it,” you said, smiling as they cuddled close.

Bethany watched the scene from her chair, her expression softening as she took in the sight of her children together. Edward, however, remained distant, his eyes fixed on the glass in his hand. You caught his gaze briefly, offering him another small smile, but he only nodded before taking another drink.

The evening passed in a comfortable routine. After helping your siblings with their homework and tucking them into bed, you returned to the kitchen to finish tidying up. Your mother had already retired to her room, exhausted from the day, and your father had disappeared into his study, no doubt to finish off the rest of his whiskey.

You moved quietly through the house, checking on your siblings one last time before heading to your own room. The house was quiet now, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. As you closed your bedroom door behind you, you let out a small sigh, allowing yourself a moment of peace.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you picked up the small radio that sat on your nightstand and turned the dial until you found a station playing soft music. The gentle melody filled the room, and you leaned back against your pillows, letting the music wash over you.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the dining room, casting a warm glow over the modest table where your family gathered for breakfast. You were up early, as always, making sure everything was in order. The scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a comforting aroma that made the small house feel like a haven, even amidst the challenges you faced.

Elizabeth and Henry sat at the table, eagerly awaiting their breakfast. Elizabeth was busily drawing something on a scrap of paper, her brow furrowed in concentration. Henry, on the other hand, was more focused on the food, his eyes fixed on the plate of bacon you had just set down.

Bethany sat at her usual place, looking a little stronger than the day before. She offered you a grateful smile as you poured her a cup of coffee, though you knew that the effort it took for her to sit there, to even sip her coffee, was enormous. But she was trying, for you, for Elizabeth, for Henry.

“Thank you, darling,” she said, her voice still weak, but with a note of warmth that filled your heart.

“Of course, Mama,” you replied with a smile, placing a plate of toast and eggs in front of her.

Edward shuffled into the room last, bleary-eyed and grumpy. His shirt was half-buttoned, and his hair was in disarray. The stench of whiskey clung to him, as it often did these days. You could see the toll it was taking on him, on all of you, but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on keeping the morning peaceful.

“Morning,” he grunted, dropping into his chair at the head of the table. He reached for his coffee, not bothering with a greeting to the rest of the family. You quietly placed a plate of food in front of him, hoping to keep his temper at bay.

The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation filled the room as everyone dug into their breakfast. Elizabeth chattered about school, excitedly telling you and your mother about the garden they were starting, while Henry tried his best to sneak extra pieces of bacon onto his plate.

You smiled as you watched them, feeling a rare moment of contentment. For all the struggles and hardships, these moments made it worth it—seeing your siblings happy, seeing your mother’s faint smile as she listened to them.

But that fleeting peace was shattered by a loud knock on the front door.

You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with your mother before wiping your hands on a dish towel and heading to the door. Edward barely looked up from his coffee, his focus already on the bottle he’d hidden in his lap.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of two men in dark suits. They stood rigidly, exuding an air of authority that sent a chill down your spine. One of them, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a stern expression, held a clipboard. The other, shorter but just as imposing, looked around with a critical eye.

“Good morning,” the tall man said in a clipped tone, not bothering to introduce himself. “Is this the residence 85 Shorebridge Lane? We’re looking for Edward?”

You swallowed hard, your heart beginning to race. “Yes, it is. I’m his daughter. Can I help you?”

The man with the clipboard glanced at his companion before looking back at you. “We’re with Vought-American. We’re here regarding a debt that he owes our company.”

A sense of dread settled in your stomach. You knew your father had been struggling to make ends meet, especially with the drinking, but you hadn’t realized it had gone this far. “A debt?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes,” the man confirmed. “A significant sum, in fact. It appears that your father was involved in an incident that resulted in the damage of Vought property. The debt has been outstanding for several months, and our attempts to collect have been ignored.”

You felt your heart drop. Vought was a powerful corporation, and you knew they didn’t take these matters lightly. “I-I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware of any debt. I’m sure there’s been some mistake.”

The man’s expression remained cold, unyielding. “There’s no mistake. The debt is substantial, and it needs to be settled immediately.”

Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle this. There was no way your father had that kind of money—if he had, you wouldn’t be scraping by as you were. “We don’t have the money,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

The man with the clipboard sighed, as if he had anticipated your response. “In that case, Vought-American has decided to pursue an alternative form of compensation.”

You blinked in confusion. “Alternative form?”

The shorter man stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over you with a look that made your skin crawl. “We’ve been authorized to take his oldest child as collateral until the debt is repaid.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?” you gasped, taking a step back. “You can’t do that!”

But the men didn’t flinch. The tall one flipped through the papers on his clipboard, nodding as if confirming something. “Your father’s contract with Vought allows for this action. It’s all legal.”

Panic surged through you. You’d heard stories about Vought and their ruthless methods, but you never imagined it would happen to your family. “Please, there has to be another way,” you pleaded, your voice shaking. “Take something else, anything—just not me.”

The shorter man smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “We don’t want your old furniture or broken-down car. Vought invests in people, not things. And you, miss, are quite the investment.”

You felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet. Your mind raced with thoughts of your family—your mother, sick and unable to care for herself; your siblings, who depended on you for everything. How could you leave them? How could you let Vought take you away?

“Let me speak to my father,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. “Maybe we can figure something out.”

The men exchanged a glance, clearly impatient, but they stepped aside to let you close the door. You rushed back to the dining room, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Papa,” you said urgently, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “There are men here from Vought. They say you owe them money, and they’re threatening to take me if you don’t pay.”

Edward looked up at you, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the realization of what his actions had led to. But he didn’t say anything—he just stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Papa, please,” you begged, tears welling in your eyes. “There has to be something we can do.”

But your father just shook his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I…I can’t,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t have the money.”

Bethany, who had been silent until now, reached out to take your hand. Her grip was weak, but you could feel the desperation in it. “We’ll figure something out,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. “We’ll find a way to get you back.”

You wanted to believe her, but the fear gnawing at your insides told you that this was a battle you couldn’t win. The men at the door were from Vought, and when they wanted something, they got it.

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your mother’s hand and looked into her eyes. “I’ll be okay, Mama,” you said, forcing yourself to smile even though you felt anything but okay. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You turned to Elizabeth and Henry, who were watching with wide, frightened eyes. You knelt down in front of them, trying to keep your voice steady. “Take care of Mama, okay? Be good for her. And don’t worry—I’ll be back soon.”

Elizabeth threw her arms around you, her body trembling as she sobbed into your shoulder. “Don’t go,” she cried. “Please don’t go.”

Henry clung to your other arm, his little face scrunched up in fear. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hugged them both tightly, fighting back your own tears. “I have to, Lizzie. But I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

Edward remained silent, staring into his coffee cup as if it held the answers to all of life’s problems. There was no fight left in him, no words of comfort or strength. The man who should have protected you was defeated, beaten down by his own vices and the crushing weight of his mistakes.

You rose slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you like a leaden shroud. The reality of the situation was sinking in—Vought wasn’t just taking you away; they were taking your future, your freedom, your life as you knew it.

The men were waiting when you returned to the door, their expressions unchanged. The shorter one smirked again, a sick satisfaction in his eyes as he watched you struggle to maintain your composure.

“I’m ready,” you said, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound strong.

The tall man with the clipboard nodded, his expression neutral. “Good. Let’s go.”

They led you out of the house, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. The sight of your family—their tear-st

reaked faces, their broken hearts—would have shattered what little resolve you had left.

As they escorted you to a sleek black car parked in front of the house, you felt a sense of unreality wash over you. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to turn out. You were supposed to take care of your family, grow up with your siblings, and maybe, just maybe, find some happiness of your own.

But now all of that was slipping away, stolen by the cold, calculating hands of Vought-American.

The car door slammed shut behind you, and the engine roared to life. As the car pulled away from the only home you’d ever known, you stared out the window, watching as the house grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.

And in that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

NOW:

The dim light of the motel room flickered, casting long shadows on the worn carpet. The room was a far cry from the luxury they once knew, but for now, it was their base of operations. A map of the United States was spread out on the bed, littered with notes, pictures, and names crossed out in red ink. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat precariously on the edge of the nightstand, and the faint scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

You were nestled between Ben’s legs, your back pressed against his solid chest. His arms were wrapped loosely around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach, occasionally dipping lower just to make you squirm. It was comfortable, familiar, even with the electric undercurrent of violence that seemed to hum around the two of you these days. You had always thrived on chaos, and being with Ben meant there was no shortage of it.

“Alright, let’s go over it again,” you said, picking up a marker and tapping it against the map. “Crimson Countess is toast, thanks to you. Butcher took out Gunpowder. Who’s left?”

Ben chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “Fucking love when you talk dirty like that.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smirk tugged at your lips. “Focus, asshole. We’ve got a few more of these Payback assholes to deal with.”

Ben’s hand slipped under your shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I’m focused. Focused on how fucking tight you are, baby doll.”

You let out a sharp breath as his hand dipped lower, but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just short of where he wanted to go. “Not yet, you horny bastard. We’ve got shit to do. And you know I used to wear those.”

“Always such a tease, sweet thing,” he growled, but he didn’t push it, at least not yet. His hand settled back on your stomach, and he nipped at your earlobe before finally, reluctantly, turning his attention to the map.

“Okay, so, who’s left?” Ben’s voice was a low rumble against your back, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine.

You pushed the marker across the map, stopping at a photo of a man with slicked-back hair and a smarmy grin. “Swatto. He’s a fucking bug, always buzzing around and pissing me off. Turns out he survived that rocket thing, Butcher’s doing recon to find out if he’ll fight.”

Ben snorted. “That dipshit was always hiding behind his wings. Like a fucking coward. Should be easy enough to swat.”

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Fucking hilarious, Ben. I’m sure you’ll have a real blast with him.”

He shifted behind you, one of his hands sliding down to your thigh, squeezing it possessively. “Oh, I will. Can’t wait to tear those wings off and see him squirm.”

“Jesus, you’re a sick fuck,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the idea of seeing Swatto get what was coming to him. After all the years of seeing these assholes get away with everything, the thought of finally doling out justice—your version of it—was intoxicating.

“I’m an amazing fuck.”

Ben’s hand continued its slow exploration of your thigh, inching higher, and you had to force yourself to stay on task. “Okay, who else?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Mindstorm,” Ben growled, his mood shifting instantly. His fingers tightened on your leg, his touch no longer teasing. “That fucking psycho. You know how much I want to rip his fucking head off.”

You nodded, your own anger flaring up at the mention of Mindstorm. That bastard was a menace, always getting into people’s heads, fucking with their minds. “He’s a tough one,” you admitted. “But we’ll get him. He’s paranoid as hell, always looking over his shoulder. That’s gonna be his downfall.”

Ben’s lips found your neck, kissing and biting as his hand moved higher. “And what about Noir?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl.

You tensed slightly at the name. Black Noir was different. He was more dangerous, more unpredictable. You and Ben had both seen what he was capable of, and you knew that taking him down wouldn’t be easy. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

“He’s tricky,” you said, your voice softer now, more thoughtful. “But he’s not invincible. We just have to be smarter, catch him off guard.”

Ben’s other hand slipped under your shirt, cupping your breast as he sucked a mark onto your neck. “Always did have a thing for sneaking around, didn’t you?”

You laughed breathlessly, arching into his touch despite yourself. “I’m fucking good at it, too. But Noir… he’s not just sneaky, he’s—”

“Dangerous,” Ben finished, his voice a low rumble. “But so are we.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth. You and Ben had always been dangerous, both of you forged in violence and fire. The world had tried to break you down, but all it did was sharpen your edges, make you harder, stronger. Now, you were like a blade, honed to perfection, ready to cut down anyone who stood in your way.

“Damn right,” you murmured, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. His green eyes were dark, intense, filled with a hunger that went beyond just the desire for revenge. It was a hunger for you, for the violence you both thrived on, for the chaos you created together.

“Fuck, I love you,” he growled, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding. You kissed him back just as fiercely, the map and the list of enemies forgotten for the moment. There was something about the way Ben kissed you that always made your blood boil, like you were both on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating.

His hands roamed over your body, possessive and greedy, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel the heat between you building, the tension coiling tighter with every touch, every kiss. It was like a storm gathering strength, ready to unleash its fury.

You broke the kiss, panting, your lips tingling from the roughness of it. “We should…fuck, we should focus,” you gasped, but even as you said it, you didn’t make any move to pull away from him.

“Later,” Ben muttered against your skin, his lips tracing a path down your neck. “Right now, I’m focusing on you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your resolve crumbling under his touch. “You’re such a fucking distraction.”

“Good,” he growled, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The moon was high, casting a pale, cold light over the suburban neighborhood. It was quiet, too quiet for what was about to go down. You stood just inside the tree line with Ben, Butcher, and Hughie, all four of you hidden in the shadows as you surveyed the modest two-story house in front of you. It was the kind of place that could belong to any average middle-class family. The lawn was neatly trimmed, a swing set sat in the backyard, and the porch light was on, giving off a warm, welcoming glow.

But you knew better. Inside that house was no average man. Inside that house was Swatto, and tonight, he was going to pay for everything he’d done.

Butcher and Hughie were huddled together a few feet away, whispering about the plan, going over details you and Ben didn’t give two shits about. Butcher was being his usual self—gruff, methodical, and annoyingly focused on the specifics. Hughie was trying to keep up, nodding along as if he actually understood everything that Butcher was saying.

“Alright, here’s how it’s going to go down,” Butcher said, turning to face you and Ben. His eyes narrowed when he saw the two of you standing there, looking like you couldn’t be bothered to listen. “Oi, you two paying attention?”

Ben rolled his eyes and leaned back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We go in, we fuck him up, we get out. Simple enough for you?”

Butcher’s jaw tightened, and he looked like he was about to tear into Ben, but then he just let out a heavy sigh. “Just don’t go in guns blazing. We need this to be clean. Swatto’s a slippery fucker, and if he gets wind of us before we’re ready, he’s gone.”

Ben snorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Trust me, he’s not going anywhere.”

You couldn’t help but grin at Ben’s confidence. You knew he was right—once you and Ben set your sights on someone, there was no escape. Swatto didn’t stand a chance.

Hughie, ever the nervous one, looked between you and Ben with wide eyes. “Just…try not to burn the house down, okay? There are neighbors. Innocent people.”

You patted Hughie on the back, a little harder than necessary, making him stumble forward. “Relax, kid. We’re not complete psychos. Just…mostly.”

Ben chuckled, but the sound was low, dark. He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. “Come on, Psyke. Let’s get this over with.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline that always came before a mission like this. There was something about the anticipation, the knowledge that you were about to bring hell down on someone who deserved it, that made your blood sing. You lived for this, and you knew Ben did too.

Butcher gave the two of you one last hard look, then nodded. “Alright, you two lead the way. Hughie and I will be right behind you. And remember—quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, already moving toward the house. Ben was right beside you, his hand slipping away from yours as you both switched into mission mode.

You reached the back of the house first, the old habits kicking in as you moved silently, your steps careful and measured. The back door was locked, but that didn’t slow you down. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small device, one of those nifty little gadgets Frenchie had rigged up for you. You placed it against the lock, and within seconds, the door clicked open.

Ben shot you a grin as you stepped inside, and you returned it, feeling that familiar rush of excitement. The kitchen was dark, empty, but you could hear the faint hum of a television somewhere deeper in the house.

Swatto was here. And he was about to have a very, very bad night.

Ben was already moving toward the hallway, his movements smooth and confident. You followed him, your senses on high alert, ready for anything. The plan was simple enough—get in, corner Swatto, and make sure he didn’t leave the house alive.

The two of you moved like shadows, silent and lethal, the perfect predators. You reached the living room first, and there he was—Swatto, sitting on the couch, his back to you as he watched some mindless late-night infomercial. He hadn’t even noticed you yet. Stupid.

Ben paused, looking back at you with a grin that sent a thrill down your spine. You knew that look, knew what it meant. It was the look that said he was about to do something reckless, something that would probably piss Butcher off. And you couldn’t wait to see it.

Without a word, Ben took a step forward, and as if he sensed the movement, Swatto’s head snapped up. He turned, his eyes widening in shock when he saw the two of you standing there.

“Psyke. Soldier Boy,” Swatto spat your names, his voice full of venom.

Ben didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. He was across the room in a flash, grabbing Swatto by the collar and yanking him off the couch. The guy yelped, his wings flapping uselessly as he tried to get away, but Ben had him pinned in seconds, one massive hand around his throat.

“Miss us?” Ben growled, his voice dripping with menace.

Swatto struggled, his hands clawing at Ben’s arm, but it was no use. Ben was stronger, meaner, and right now, he was in the mood to make someone pay.

You took a step forward, your eyes locked on Swatto’s. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

Swatto tried to say something, but Ben squeezed his throat tighter, cutting off his air. His wings buzzed frantically, but it was all just noise, useless and desperate.

Ben leaned in close, his voice low and deadly. “You’re not getting out of this, Swatto. You’re done.”

Swatto’s eyes darted to you, pleading, but you just stared back, cold and unfeeling. You’d seen too many people like him, too many cowards who thought they could get away with anything because they had power, because they were part of something bigger. But tonight, Swatto was learning the hard way that no one was untouchable. Not anymore.

You reached out for Ben’s hand, taking it off Swatto, but just when the slippery fuck thought he’d been let go, you grabbed him by the throat instead, your eyes gleaming with purple and slightly hollow with darkness. “Stop squirming.” His eyes turned the same colour, and he went limp, the only sounds from him his ragged gasps for air through your hand on his neck compressing his airway.

“Good boy.” You smirked, chuckling. “I’ll make this quick.” And with a casual flick of your wrist, Swatto was finished. You dropped him to the floor, to which he fell like a ragdoll. Good.

“Fuckin’ good work, sweetheart.” Ben sneered at Swatto’s body with a firm squeeze to your ass before patting it. “C’mon. Let’s go, Butcher and the kid are waiting outside.”

1943:

The small room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the worn furniture and faded wallpaper. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and cheap cologne, mingling with the faint scent of smoke from a cigarette that had long since burned out in the ashtray on the bedside table. The bed creaked as you shifted, the black silk robe you wore clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. You hated it, hated everything about this place, but you’d learned long ago that hate was useless here. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t stop the hands that groped and grabbed, the leers, or the demands.

You’d been "Heaven" for what felt like an eternity now, though it had only been a few months. The name was a cruel joke, a twisted reminder of everything you’d lost. Heaven was supposed to be pure, divine, untouchable. But here, Heaven was just another girl in a black silk robe, another plaything for the men who worked at Vought.

You heard the door creak open behind you, and you stiffened, bracing yourself for whatever would come next. They always came in without knocking, without a word, as if you weren’t even a person, just something they could use whenever they wanted. You kept your gaze fixed on the wall in front of you, focusing on the peeling wallpaper, the little details that let you pretend you were somewhere else.

But this time, something was different. The footsteps were heavier, more deliberate, and when the door clicked shut, you felt a presence in the room that was… different. You turned slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up to see who had come for you this time.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a green silk kimono that looked almost out of place on someone like him. His hair was perfectly combed back, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he wasn’t here for pleasantries. His eyes��cold, green, and hard as stone—fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Soldier Boy. You’d heard stories about him, of course—who hadn’t? But seeing him in person, standing in your little room with its faded wallpaper and broken dreams, was something else entirely. You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you tried to find your voice.

“Sir,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, taking in every detail. The robe, the way you sat on the edge of the bed, the way you tried to hide the tremble in your hands. “They call you Heaven, don’t they?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, sir.”

“Bullshit name,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “What’s your real name?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. You hadn’t heard your real name in so long it almost felt foreign to you. But you knew better than to disobey someone like him. “I… I don’t remember, sir.”

He let out a low growl of frustration, crossing the room in two strides and grabbing your chin with one hand, forcing you to look up at him. His grip was firm, but not painful. Not yet. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You did as you were told, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost unbearable, like he could see right through you, like he knew everything that had been done to you, everything you’d become.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice low, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t to be taken lightly. “I’m here to find out what the hell’s been going on.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I… I don’t understand, sir.”

He let go of your chin, taking a step back. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know what they’ve been doing to you. I just want to hear it from you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to relive everything that had happened since they’d taken you. But you could tell from the look in his eyes that you didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to leave until he got what he came for.

“They… They make me…” You trailed off, your voice shaking. It was too hard to say it out loud, too hard to admit what you’d been reduced to.

“Spit it out,” he ordered, his patience wearing thin.

“They make me entertain the men,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “They say it’s to keep them happy, to make sure they keep doing their jobs. But… But they… they’re not gentle, sir.”

There was a long pause, the air between you heavy with tension. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stood there, watching you with those cold, green eyes.

“I see,” he finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. He looked away for a moment, as if trying to collect himself. When he looked back at you, there was something different in his eyes, something darker. “And you let them?”

Your blood ran cold at his question, your heart sinking as you realized what he was implying. “I don’t… I don’t have a choice, sir. They… They said it was to pay off my father’s debt. They said if I didn’t do what they wanted, they’d… they’d hurt my family.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fucking bastards.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. You’d cried too many times in this room, in front of men who didn’t care, men who only wanted one thing. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, too. “Please, sir… don’t make me talk about it anymore.”

He didn’t answer right away, just stood there, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to make sense of it all. Finally, he shook his head, letting out a low, bitter laugh. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir.’ Name’s Ben. Get it right.”

You blinked, surprised. It felt strange, like he was trying to level with you, make things less formal. Less like the men who came into this room night after night. “Ben,” you repeated, the name feeling foreign on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s better.” He seemed to soften a little, the hard edge in his voice fading. He took a seat on the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. “How long have they been doing this to you?”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. Time had lost all meaning in this place. Days, weeks, months—they all blurred together. But you knew you had to answer. “Since… since they brought me here. It feels like forever.”

He nodded slowly, like he was taking it all in, processing what you were telling him. “And no one’s tried to stop it? No one’s helped you?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of despair wash over you. “No. They all just… they just use me, then leave. Like I’m nothing.”

His jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “That’s because they’re fucking cowards, every last one of them.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at the floor, feeling the weight of his words. He was right, of course. They were cowards, every one of them. But that didn’t change what had happened to you, what was still happening.

There was a long silence, and then Ben reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch was surprisingly gentle, and it made you flinch, not out of fear, but out of the sheer unfamiliarity of it. You weren’t used to gentleness. Not anymore.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low, almost soft. “I’m going to get you out of here. You don’t deserve this.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that he was lying, that this was just another cruel trick. But all you saw was determination, a kind of fierce protectiveness that made your heart ache with something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Because I don’t fucking stand by while scum like them ruin people’s lives,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “And because you deserve better than this. Way fucking better.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes again, and this time you couldn’t stop them. You’d spent so long in this hell, so long believing that there was no way out, that you were trapped here forever. But now, here was this man—this soldier, this hero—telling you that you could be free.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over.

Ben let out a long sigh, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “What… What do I have to do?”

“Just stay with me,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m going to get you into a trial for something that might give you a fighting chance. Compound V. It’s risky as hell, but it’s better than staying here and letting them break you.”

“Compound V?” you repeated, the name unfamiliar. You’d heard rumors, whispers about some kind of serum that gave people powers, made them stronger. But you never imagined you’d be a candidate for something like that.

Ben nodded, his expression serious. “It’s what made me what I am. What makes us Supes. It’s not easy, and it’s not safe, but… it’s a chance. A chance to be something more than what they’ve made you.”

You bit your lip, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was terrifying, the thought of going through something like that, of risking everything. But what choice did you have? Stay here and continue to be their plaything, or take the chance to become something more?

“I’ll do it,” you said, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours. “Good. We’ll get this started as soon as possible. And from now on, you call me Ben. No more of this ‘sir’ bullshit, got it?”

You nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Yes… Ben.”

“Damn right,” he said, and for the first time since he’d walked into your room, you saw a flicker of something almost like warmth in his eyes.

You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this Compound V would save you or destroy you. But you knew one thing: with Ben by your side, you had a chance. A real chance. And that was more than you’d had in a long time.

“Get some rest,” he said, standing up and heading for the door. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

You watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of fear and hope swirling in your chest. He paused at the door, looking back at you one last time.

“You’re not alone anymore, Heaven,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “Remember that.”

The air in the small fitting room was thick with the scent of smoke and something else—something chemical and sharp that clung to the walls like an unwelcome guest. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, watching as the tailor adjusted the fabric of your new suit, the material shimmering under the fluorescent lights. The suit was a deep, vibrant purple, lined with silver accents that caught the light just right, and it felt like a second skin, hugging your curves in all the right places.

You couldn’t help but smile as you took in your reflection. It wasn’t just the suit that made you feel different; it was everything. The Compound V coursing through your veins had ignited something deep inside you, a newfound confidence that made you feel powerful. You turned this way and that, admiring how the suit moved with you, how it seemed to accentuate every line of your body.

From a nearby chair, Ben watched you intently, dressed in a black silk robe that hung loosely around his broad shoulders. He had a cigar perched between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air like a snake. His green eyes were locked onto you, an amused smirk playing on his lips as you struck poses in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough and teasing. “A real fucking knockout. That suit’s gonna have every bastard in the room drooling over you.”

You shot him a playful glare through the mirror. “I’m not here to attract drooling idiots, Ben. I’m here to kick ass and take names.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, the cigar still resting against his lips. “Right, right. Ass-kicking first, then maybe a little drooling later. But you know how it is out there, right? Being a Supes comes with a lot of fucking bullshit.”

“Like what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow, genuinely curious. You knew some of the dark sides of being a Super, but you wanted to hear it from him.

He took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke escaping in a lazy cloud. “First off, you gotta deal with the goddamn media. They’re gonna twist everything you do, make you look like the villain if you don’t play their game. And trust me, they don’t play nice. Then there’s the fans—half of them love you, the other half think you’re the Antichrist. It’s a hell of a ride, sweetheart.”

You nodded, taking in his words, but you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the thought. You were going to be someone important, someone powerful. “I can handle it, Ben. I’m not some weak little thing anymore. I’ve got control now.”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? How does it feel? Being all-powerful and shit?”

“It feels amazing,” you admitted, turning back to the mirror. You could see the flicker of a smile on your own face, a grin that was becoming harder to hide. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’m finally awake, finally in charge of my own life. No more fucking around, no more letting others dictate what I do.”

“Goddamn right,” he said, his voice low and full of approval. “That’s the spirit. You’re gonna show those bastards who’s boss.”

You turned to face him fully, hands on your hips. “So, what’s it like for you? Being a Supes, I mean. You’ve been in this game a lot longer than I have.”

He took another drag of his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him as he considered his words. “It’s a fucking trip, I’ll tell you that. You get used to the perks pretty damn quick—money, fame, all that bullshit. But it comes at a cost. You’ve gotta stay on top, you’ve gotta keep proving you’re worth it.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” you said, tilting your head slightly, intrigued. “But you seem to thrive on it.”

“Pressure’s just another word for motivation,” he replied, a sly smile creeping across his face. “Besides, I’m not just some pretty face in a tight suit. I can back it up. I’ve taken down more assholes than I can count, and I plan to keep adding to that list.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a rush of admiration mixed with something else—something electric that crackled between you. “I think I’ll enjoy backing it up, too. I’m not about to let anyone push me around again.”

Ben’s gaze locked onto yours, and the air felt charged, electric. “I like that about you. You’ve got fire. A real fucking spark. And trust me, you’ll need it out there.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting the cigar dangle from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ll be in the spotlight, and not everyone’s gonna like what they see. Some are gonna want to tear you down, but you’ve gotta stand tall. You’ve gotta show them you’re not afraid.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling in. “I can do that. I’m ready for whatever comes my way.”

He stood up, the robe slipping slightly to reveal a hint of muscle underneath, and walked over to you, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Now, show me that confidence. Strut your stuff. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a thrill of excitement coursing through you as you turned back to the mirror, striking a pose like a model on a runway. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, rolling your hips slightly as you watched yourself, feeling the power within you surging.

“Now we’re talking!” Ben said, clapping his hands together in approval. “Look at you! That’s how you own a room. You’re gonna make heads turn when you walk in, and you better damn well enjoy it.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” you shot back, feeling the fire in your belly. This was what you had been waiting for, the chance to reclaim your life and make it your own.

As the tailor continued to fuss with the suit, you felt Ben’s presence behind you, his energy filling the room with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him watching you with an appreciative gaze, and your heart raced. “You’re staring, you know.”

He smirked, leaning against the wall casually. “Can you blame me? You’re a fucking vision in that getup. You could walk out of here and take on the world right now.”

“Maybe I will,” you replied, your voice teasing. “I’ve got the suit, the powers, and the attitude. What more do I need?”

“Just me, of course,” he said with a wink. “I’m the cherry on top of this whole badass sundae.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “Yeah, right. You just want to take credit for all my hard work.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Hard work? This is all you, sweetheart. I’m just here for the fun parts.”

The tailor finished adjusting the last bit of fabric and stepped back, his eyes wide with admiration. “You look incredible. I think we’re done here.”

You turned to face him fully, spinning on your heel and striking another pose. “How’s this?”

“Perfect!” the tailor exclaimed, nodding vigorously before stepping out of the fitting room, leaving you and Ben alone once more.

“Now that’s how you do it,” Ben said, stepping closer, the space between you charged with energy. “You’re gonna be unstoppable, Psyke.”

“Psyke?” you echoed, a smirk on your lips. “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “You know, for someone who’s so confident, you sure are fun to tease.”

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, a playful glint in your eye. “I can hold my own, Ben. Trust me.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in slightly, making your heart race. “But I’m still gonna have a little fun watching you figure this all out. Can’t wait to see you kick some ass.”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, an intoxicating mix of excitement and something deeper—something that made you want to lean closer, to bridge the gap between you. “You’ll be right there with me, won’t you?”

“Always, sweetheart,” he said, and for a moment, the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you standing in that small room, the weight of the past lifting as something new sparked between you.

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 10 months ago

Note

Since ive been playing Stardew again, mainly thanks to Stardew Expanded, and have been on a Stardew kick in general:

How would the different villagers (base game, no mod villagers, with maybe the inclusion of Marlon, Gunther, Krobus and the dwarf maybe?) react to a cottagecore (actual) witch (wizard, spellcaster, whatever you wanna call this version of the farmer) who, while making artisan goods like jellies and mead, also makes potions and enchanted knick knacks that help people too?

Hewwo :D

As you can see, dear anon, I got rather... carried away with the question, so I apologize for the long reply. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks again for the ask! 💕

SDV townies react to the cottagecore wizard/witch!Farmer who, in addition to artisan goods, makes potions and enchants trinkets:

_________________________________________

Shane doesn't mind the home-brewed beer and hot peppers from the garden that the Farmer regularly treats him to, but doesn't need to be told about the trinkets and stinky herbal concoctions and other weird stuff. The chicken lover doesn't believe in that (even though he's facing a real wizard/witch), and he has pills for his hangover.

No matter how hard Marlon tried to talk the Farmer out of it and explain that they didn't owe him anything for his help (a.k.a. "how once again Marlon had delivered the unconscious Farmer home"), but the new member of the Adventurers' Guild was stubborn and left on Marlon's table a dozen life elixirs that they had brewed themselves, as well as a whole basket of fresh apples. Well, it was rude to refuse, but the old adventurer still wanted the Farmer to be careful in the Mines next time.

A good luck bracelet? Ha! Thanks, Farmer, but Alex doesn't need one. He's a real sports star (not yet recognized, but soon!), and he relies solely on his talents and muscles. Although, if an athlete knows Farmer very well, he won't turn down a bracelet. Although he's not superstitious, a gift from a friend as a token of attention really touched him. Not that he'll admit it out loud, of course.

"Will I be able to fly?! Or talk to animals? Will I be able to talk to trees too? Will I turn into a dinosaur? Or invisible? I'd like to become an invisible dinosaur!" Yeah, I guess it wasn't such a good idea for the Farmer to announce to Vincent that they were brewing potions in addition to farming. Who knew the boy would be so intrigued by the Farmer's activities, after all, where else would you see a Farmer who could not only make cheese, but also do magic things?

Jas is a pretty smart girl, and quickly guessed about Farmer's unusual talents. She promised to keep it a secret.... If the Farmer promised to show her those unusual black chickens. Given that the farm is not far from her aunt's ranch, Jas often comes to visit the hospitable Farmer, just to watch them conjure or make cheese. And for black chickens. So cute!

To be honest, Marnie is a little... confused. She doesn't really believe in magic and all, but one event has made her reconsider. The Farmer recently gave her an totem that they say protects her lovely chickens from forest predators (poor Marnie is still grieving over hen Matilda, who was stolen by a fox). Now foxes approaching the coop howl, as if wounded, when they see the totem and run away. A coincidence, or does the totem really work?

"Ah, fellow craftsman! Glad to see that the practice of the arts of alchemy and enchantment is still not extinct." Wizard knew from the beginning that Farmer was connected with the magical world, but even for him it was a surprise that the young talent could cast complex spells and brew potions. And most importantly, help the locals (well, or at least not harm anyone). Hm, he was just looking for an apprentice, and Farmer would be perfect candidate...

Leah isn't much into elixirs and talismans, but when the red-haired girl fell ill, the Farmers were the first to help and gave her some funny-smelling potions that made her feel better instantly. They also treated Leah to some homemade goat cheese and fruits. Witch or not, Leah was glad to have such a caring friend and promised herself to do something for the Farmer in return.

Even though Demetrius had no desire to offend or insult the Farmer in any way, the scientist will look very sceptical at the amulet the Farmer offers him for protection against evil spirits. And for all the spells that the Farmer shows, desperately trying to prove to Demetrius that they are real spellcasters, he will wave his hand, saying that it is all scientifically explainable. Farmer is levitating, the hell you mean scientifically explainable?!

Clint wanted to ask something about a love potion, but quickly silenced himself before the Farmer could hear anything. It would hardly be true love if you put that magic stuff in there.... What?! No, he didn't mean anyone in particular, they heard nothing! In general, the blacksmith doesn't care if the Farmer grows strawberries, enchants bracelets or practises fortune-telling.

Abigail has become a very frequent visitor to the farm. The violet-haired girl sometimes likes to sit in the Farmer's kitchen, helping or watching them make blueberry jam or pickled tomatoes. But most of all she is interested in watching them brew potions or just the way the spoons stir themselves thanks to magic. Abigail will also ask them to make her a elixirs taster ("Pretty please!").

Perhaps Lewis would have just politely ignored the Farmer's statement that they were a wizard and that they would be happy to help him and the people of the Valley with potions, but still the Pelican Town Mayor decided to try his luck and ask the Farmer one specific question. Hmm? Why did Lewis need a stamina potion? Erm, well, Lewis wanted to start doing, er... exercise, and- Never mind, forget what he just said, Farmer.

You know that look on some parents' faces when their little child hands them a craft made of dirt or leaves, and the adults try to squeeze out a smile and say what an interesting thing their kid made? That's what was on Jodi's face when Farmer gave her the gift with a proud smile. Thank you so much for the fresh vegetables, Farmer, and, umm.... What's with the skull pendant with the glowing eyes? "Luck pendant? Ahahaha, how nice, thank you!" (Jodi dies inside).

A small woven basket, containing some fruit or goodies, and a small vial of purple liquid.... Almost everyone in the Valley had received a gift from the unusual Farmer, and Robin was no exception. The carpenter doesn't know what's up with the "potion to cure diseases", but she's just glad that the Farmer has fit into their little community so quickly and takes care of everyone like family. Robin smiles genuinely and is already on her way home with peaches given by the Farmer to treat her husband and her children.

One day Haley is sure to drop by the Farmer's to visit and ask them to let her have a photo session of their farm. Because this place is sure to be a winner in Zuzu City's "All About the Country life" photo contest! Plus, the blonde-haired girl discovered the delights of rural life, and the Farmer themself turned out to be a very interesting person. But Haley can't stand the smell of the cauldron. Why would the Farmer have a cauldron in his kitchen?

For about an hour now, poor Maru has been racking her brains and searching medical books and scientific articles for any information about the ingredients that the Farmers, as they themselves claim, put in the "potion". It's phenomenal - a liquid that instantly cured Maru's burn on her arm! (the result of a failed experiment). Poor Farmer only wanted to bring the young inventor the cure and fresh strawberries, but ended up being showered with a mountain of questions from a exited Maru. "Magic? Witches and wizards? Nonsense!"

Kent had been standing by the front door of the farmhouse for some more than ten minutes now, keeping his eyes fixed on the broom that was brushing the porch steps by itself. Either his nightmares had made him crazy, or those pickled mushrooms the Farmer had treated the military man with (and given several jars of mushrooms as a treat to his family) were laced with some sort of hallucinogen. Farmer stepped out onto the porch. "Ah, I can use magic to make a broom sweep!" Apparently it was the mushrooms after all, Kent thought.

Did someone say pendants with stones that have magical properties? Or dreamcatchers? Then Emily's on her way! Nothing brings the blue-haired girl more joy than discussions about amethyst, that ability to enhance the wearer's intuition, or the positive emotion-filled bracelets she's made for her friends. Granted Emily has a slightly different field (and Farmer's pendants are enchanted for real), but she would be the one closest to Farmer's interest in making trinkets of all sorts to help others.

Oh, Gus knows well that if he needs the best quality produce for his meals, the owner of the Saloon can ask the hard-working and kind Farmer for help. Admittedly, at times he is a bit taken aback when the Farmer still offers him unfamiliar herbs and products that they have made themselves. "Moon salt", what is that? Seems edible, even delicious! Definitely going into his escargot.

"That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life." Whoa, Pam, you don't have to be that blunt with the person you're getting a gift from. Yes, the bracelet may not have the most adorable look, but the Farmer is a spellcaster with experience, and this trinket will help bring Pam happiness, wealth, and- "Thanks for the mead and the parsnips, kiddo, but I'm not taking this creepy bracelet." Pam, don't be rude to the Farmer, where's your manners and gratitude?

Yoba, Harvey tries to be polite and patient, but he can't stay away when he sees Farmer offering other residents elixirs that, they say, will "instantly cure illnesses"??? He is a doctor, and has devoted years at university to curing people, while Farmer is engaging in, pardon his harsh words, quackery?! However, when the doctor is convinced that Farmer is a real wizard/witch, he quickly apologizes and goes into a crisis. Someone give this man a glass of wine or Harvey is about to freak out.

Oh, no, no, no, no! Pierre had already made a mistake once in his youth when he bought a "talisman that brings wealth and good luck" from a stranger who claimed to be a sorceress, but it turned out to be just a cheap glass craft. So he had to create wealth with his bare hands. The shopkeeper would refuse all the amulets offered by the Farmer, and the strange elixirs too. But to buy their homemade strawberry wine of iridium quality is always welcome!

When the Farmer had just arrived in Stardew Valley, Willy had once told them that he had an amulet against all sorts of misfortunes, which he had had to sell because the money was almost gone. The old sailor had already had time to regret it, but you can't bring back the past. Farmer remembered this moment, and out of kindness made a real sea amulet for Willy. And unlike the old one, this will definitely protect him from treacherous sirens or huge deep-sea monsters while fishing.

"So enchanting objects for each other is normal for humans?" Krobus had thought that only the Wizard had knowledge of the forgotten arts, but it seemed he had missed some details when he had studied the lives of the local people of Pelican Town. People usually don't do that? Oh, alright..

The amulet that Sebastian received as a gift from the Farmer looks so cool and creepy that Sebby has started wearing it with his everyday clothes. True, the young man was a little distrustful of the Farmer's words about the "enchantment" of this trinket. He was interested in all sorts of occult things, but was not sure about the magic. Farmer, in order to prove their words, gave him another "frog magnet" talisman. The next day, by Sebastian's surprised face and a dozen frogs jumping after him, it was clear that the local emo definitely believed now.

An enchanted pendant that allows you to see artifacts hidden from human eyes... That explains how the Farmers were able to find and provide Gunther with such rare specimens of forgotten civilizations. Did they make such an amulet themselves? Amazing! What? An amulet for him? Thank you very much, Farmer. Now together, the two of them can not only restore the local museum to its former glory, but also make it even better!

Penny doesn't know what the little bottle of liquid the Farmer gave her, but her flu is gone in just an hour after she empties the contents of the bottle. Thank you so much, Farmer, for helping the young teacher by giving her this medicine. "My pleasure, the elixir of healing diseases isn't that hard to make, the main thing is not to overdo it with the wolfsbane." "W- what?...." Penny didn't have time to ask again, as the Farmer handed her a basket of oranges and wished her good health, running off on their own.

Linus had time to show the young mage (yes, it's no secret to him that they have a magical gift) all the secret places to pick unusual berries and mushrooms. Because he knows that the Farmer will definitely use it in brewing elixirs to help people, and that can't help but please the good-hearted wild man. Plus, he has to say thank you somehow for that wonderful blueberry pie.

From the Farmer's window there is almost always the smell of delicious baked goods or the pleasant scent of flowers, and Sam, without noticing it himself, has begun to walk past the farm often. The young guitarist doesn't need to be told twice when he's invited for pie or maple donuts. Farmer is always happy to have guests, especially if the guests decide to brighten up their mornings with a beautiful music. "What's brewing in the pot?" "Elixir of immortality." "Cool. Wait, what...?"

"These leaves give the tea a rather unusual flavor. And I think I'm beginning to see... flowers in my eyes. Dear Farmer, are you sure you've worked the tea leaves properly?" Caroline, your tea made the Farmer's eyes see a white little man dancing on the edge of your mug. So don't go blabbing about the Farmer's homemade tea. They certainly know the basics of herbology and alchemy, and know how to brew the most complex elixirs. So don't even-

Given Dwarf's suspiciousness, they didn't take any medallions or elixirs from the Farmer at first, because it could have turned out to be a devious plan by the shadow people. What if there's poison in the bottle? Or the medallion reveals their location to the enemy? It takes a long time before they can trust the Farmer, and later they have something of a bartering relationship with potions (the Farmer gives Dwarf elixirs out of the goodness of his heart, but Dwarf insists that the Farmer needs to get something of equal value in return).

Hmm! Why would George want this useless trinket, even if it was free? So they could sit on a shelf and gather dust? Farmer, he doesn't believe in all that focus-pocus, so he doesn't need those strange and ugly bracelets and amulets that also smell weird. A spellcaster? Don't be absurd.

Farmers were so kind to come and visit, and they also brought some goodies: ripe berries, homemade cottage cheese... And they even brought George some ointment for his bad knees, how nice of them! And though it's not clear if Evelyn believes the ointment is magical, and if she knows that Farmers can cast spells and communicate with animals. The granny is just glad that such a kind and caring young person came to their house, and without cookies, which just had time to cool down, Evelyn will not let them go.

A lonely, city-weary man who had been hiding their magical talent was finally able to escape the suffocating clutches of a mega corporation to drop everything and move to the middle of nowhere where they could find their happiness and calling... Yes, Elliott is definitely sure that this would be the perfect story for his new novella. The writer was so taken by his own muse that he wasn't even surprised by the fact that the Farmers, in addition to caring for crops and livestock, can do magic and brew elixirs. Novella now, questions later!

Morris has absolutely no time for nonsense, why did the Farmer give him some strange liquid in a bottle? A cure for back pain? Very funny, but he wasn't born yesterday to believe that nonsense. Except that Farmer's curiosity and puppy eyes made Joja's manager take a sip.... And no more back pain! Hmm, interesting... Farmer, how about a contract to sell this miracle liquid?

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Note: I hope I didn't deviate from the main question because I couldn't decide if the people of Stardew Valley believe the farmer is a wizard/sorcerer/witch by default, or if some know and some don't? And how are talismans and potions even viewed from their perspective (Shane, at least, doesn't believe in magic, judging by the canon quotes). I'm open to feedback! 😃

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