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#i think someone in the village once bought or imported a plant
fcktaken · 2 years
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Agave flowers
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mobiivs · 2 years
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140720XX
@xinqfu 🍀
sorin’s running off the moment she passes through customs, forgoing the baggage claims—her manager will get that for her, eventually. there’s eighteen hours of a plane ride she’d braved still stuck to her, impatient wave of her hand when she finds the company car waiting. “i’ll tip you extra if you get there in twenty minutes,” are her first words, leaning forward, the unflappable, confident bassist looking just a little more frazzled for once. “it’s really important!”
summer’s packed full with tours, inescapable heat on her back. she misses the lazy summers from forever ago, when all she had to worry about were white dress codes and the startling new discovery of sungho’s... everything. but sorin’ll admit she likes it better now, even though her schedule’s fit to burst and it’s been two years since that beach party and more. she’s never been that much of a romantic, to be honest, but having the literal best boyfriend in world means she’s got to at least make it home in time for their anniversary.
the drive home follows that winding red thread, her leg bouncing impatiently. she worries at her nails, a watchful eye on the clock, hands cradling the little giftbox she’d gotten. red weaves down the road, through the sights of seoul, and there’s a smile she can’t fend off. she’s going to be home.
they’re sitting face to face, in dead silence. she hasn’t talked to him—not just right now, since she saw him first in the team’s hall, but in months. sorin should’ve known this wouldn’t last, the calm away from the storm when she’d finally sucked it up and left their team, for a second time. the last time, she’d promised herself, that she’d give in to the player.
and months later, because they’re both good at what they do when they’re not trying to ruin each other, sorin and sungho sit in the same room in the olympics village.
the string lies taut and frayed, that last, single fibre connecting them dyed scarlet. “we should meet the rest of the team,” she’d said. “we should,” he’d replied. sorin’s still sitting across from him, arms crossed; he eyes her, and there’s that look she used to think meant something. but she’s got someone who smiles at her with none of the edge, sweet and soft in a way she’s still learning to keep up with. she’d wonder if he’s found someone else too, but sungho probably has half the girls in the village on his phone instead.
she stands up, and team captain’s eyes follow, an arm coming in front of her. it’s all so easy, she thinks, to fall back into this. he still looks at her the same, the thrill that’d drawn her in jumping down her spine. sorin pulls away and lets the string snap between them. today marks the first day of moving on.
👓
sorin sets the cake down in front of him, a smug little raise of her eyebrow. all pleased with herself, even though the lettering is off and the biggest ( and only ) candle is tilted to the left. sungho’s eyebrows shoot up, and she quickly raises her hands. “i only decorated it! i bought the cake. i didn’t bake it, really.” a mock gasp, elbowing him. “you didn’t even get anything, stop looking at me like that—you forgot, didn’t you!”
she’s kidding, laughing over his sputtering, indignant defense—she saw the present sungho tried to bury in the back of his closet, one night when she’d stayed over. a month early, too. she’ll bet she can find one of his posts on reddit and that means her present’s going to be internet-sourced, but she trusts her little nerd. sorin pulls him in, both hands on his cheeks, and plants a kiss square on soft lips.
he’s not the same gangly, awkward nerd he used to be, and she’s no longer the mean girl cheerleader stereotype she’d hung her pride on back in high school. can you believe yoo sungho’s blond, now? probably not as much as lim sorin reading books on string theory to impress a nerd, though. their red thread is the colour of the strawberries around the cake, knotted in places; the loops they’d made around each other and back again, milestones to the fate that links their pinkies together. sorin makes him light the candle and grins at him, and thanks the skies out there for the second chance on their high school romance.
🔪
“i should take a picture,” he’s marveling, and she just knows he’s going to say something smart.
she flicks the wound she just bandaged before he can, hard enough to sting. “shut up,” sorin huffs. the red of their string is bright against bloodied cloths and discoloured iodine, weaving around their wrists. “i’ll leave you to bleed on our doorstep next time,” she warns, has to take a pause when she realises she hadn’t meant my. it’s... been a while since sungho stopped loitering around the ground floor of her apartment, hands shoved in his pockets. the younger guy follows her up now, most days, terrorises the rest of the tenants with his tattoos and scuffed up jackets, his harley rumbling menacingly by the entrance.
the lawyer looks at him, grinning on the couch, and wonders when she got domestic with the boy rough around the edges, cornering her in the office. perhaps, since the day her flimsy morals had folded so easily over his request. “i was just gonna say you’ve gotten better at this,” he says. sorin rolls her eyes at him, teases, “only because i need to keep my boyfriend from dying on my couch,” and immediately spots the flaw in her premise, the keyword not even second guessed. a hand slaps over sungho’s mouth, his eyes smirking knowingly at her. red bridges between them as she points with her free hand. “don’t you dare,” she warns, but sorin’s laughing despite herself and, well, it wasn’t anything they didn’t know already.
🪙
she knows she’s picking at it, unravelling the thread that binds them together, like if she pulls at the loose ends hard enough, it won’t just fall apart. looking out from her glass walls to where sungho’s sitting, neutrality strained on his face while she meets yet another chaebol son, smiling the way weak men who think they’re powerful do.
“just a moment,” she says, standing up. outside, she sees her secretary do the same, brief relief on his face. her hips sway as she exits the glass door, stopping in front of his desk. sorin places a hand on the warm wood, head tilted up to look at him, in full view of her prospective blind date. the muscle in his cheek jumps, understanding and resignation setting in. “c’mon, save me, he’s boring,” she says, and sungho doesn’t move. can’t, really, before she does.
she kisses him, lips coated with something glossy and saccharine, like overripe peaches sitting out for too long on a summer afternoon. sticky sweet and soon to spoil, on his. something gets thrown, audibly, in the office behind her, a door slamming closed soon after. his arms around her don’t let her turn away; sorin presses a hand against his chest and pulls away, doesn’t let the daze distract from the point of this. “is he gone?” she asks, and the other looks up, nods briefly.
“good,” sorin says, “you’re mine.” an assurance, empty—she leaves the second half unsaid, even though she can see the thread wrapped around his neck, and still she drags him down and tightens it herself.
📷
“should we film something for our anniversary?”
sorin tilts her head back, crown of her head meeting his thigh where she’s draped across his lap. she’s scrolling through her feed; he’s editing her newest video. red string hang loose between them, comfortable and unseen. “mm,” is his reply, focused on the task. she sighs and reaches up, running her hands through his hair to get his attention. “your roots are growing out again,” she complains, “we should find another colour you look hot in that doesn’t stain my hands purple every two weeks.”
there’s a huff of laughter above her, sungho looking down. “you like it, though,” he teases, and well. she’s got no comeback for that. sorin shrugs her shoulders. it’s a bigger feat than you’d think, while lying down and avoiding dropping her phone on her face. “let’s keep our anniversary for ourselves,” sungho adds, wraps her like a strand around his finger and pulls her in, wry smile on his face. “just us, no one else.”
she lets herself be pulled closer, snuggling up to watch him touch up the footage they’d filmed earlier. “okay,” sorin grins, “the internet thinks it’s on, like, whenever that last episode of inferno aired anyway.” she laces their fingers together, intangible crimson link disappearing somewhere between their held hands. it’s their little secret, hidden from view.
🎾
the red of their strings are dyed darker, reaching across the tennis court. they’re still the star players, even if they’re not partners on mixed doubles anymore.
“good game,” he says, jogging up to her, and sorin scowls a little at him. “we’re still getting used to working together,” she defends herself, because it sucks to be on the losing side, across from sungho instead of beside him. “since you, y’know, left and all that.” sungho’s graduated and gone, even though he visits the team once in a while, and now there’s that undeniable distance between them, as certain and tangible as the net in front of her. it feels unfair, somehow, the double fault that they’ve fumbled completely, serves and signs missed because they were just a beat too slow. now he’s someone else’s.
but she still thinks of him as hers, first. “it’s fine, we’ll play another round and keep the nets later,” sungho calls to the rest of the members, waves off the clean up with an arm slung over her shoulders, skin warm against hers. like they’re still best friends and partners, the contact innocent and friendly and casual, the sort that mean nothing until everyone else is gone. sorin knows she’s going to regret this. but he kisses her like he still wants her, and at least the regret tastes a little like victory.
🎞️
there’s music booming, the reverb of something bass while the rest of the set cleans up, stylists carefully peeling her out of the last expensive, horribly branded outfit she’s paid to make look good. sungho’s by the monitor, going through the photographs; there’s that focus on the screen that she’d seen develop as their careers started rising, an inexplicable flutter to know it’s her he’s looking at now, even though their best pictorials have always been together.
sorin hops out of the makeshift stall, dressed down and comfortable, and she’s caught up to him before she can think. she’ll blame it on the fact that she hasn’t seen him in a while—haven’t been booked together, as that set they used to come as. it’s spite that drives their synergy today, annoyance over the rumours of a slump in their partnership she’s determined to prove wrong. the rumours were wrong, anyway, crisp lines on the samples on the screen, the splash she knows this one’s going to make.
sungho glances at her, the sort of grin when they’ve pulled off a concept, and something tugs at her. “wanna grab a bite?” she asks, entirely on impulse and that vague, ever-present sense of missing him. there’s a pause, point two seconds too long, sandwiched between sungho’s surprised expression and no answer. oh god, she’s made a fool of herself.
she turns on her heel and flees the room, embarrassed; sorin doesn’t see the relieved laugh he lets out, picking up the red thread that’s spooled out and following it back to her.
🕸️
the tear in the fabric of the spacetime continuum seals itself shut at the tip of sorin’s index finger, pointing at nothing. “wait, was that us?” red strings crisscross unseen, a multiverse of possibilities, and the constant that ties them together shining in between. sungho blinks from where he’s seated at the console, his code done executing. they’d just been looking for an alternative design to the webslinger they’ve got now, and yes, taking a peek at the multiverse is kind of cheating, but if you figured out the formula in advanced physics... it’s fair game, really.
“so... no webslinger designs there...” she fixes him with a look that says duh, because that universe’s sorin is definitely missing the spidey sense if she didn’t notice two college kids gawking at her while she ‘made out’ ( censored for the pg-13 movies ) with the sungho of that other universe... uh huh. sorin of this universe might have bigger problems than faulty webslingers right now.
“hey, the us in that universe, were we...” “... yeah.” “huh.” ”...” “wanna try it too?”
❤️
sorin rushes into his arms and laughs, gives him a kiss that’s far deeper than it ought to be, airplane breath and their door still ajar. the thread tied between the two of them is barely a centimeter long, their hands interlocking as he pulls her in for another kiss. sungho smells a little like the hospital mixed with the candle she’d bought on a whim, hugging her tightly. “missed you, baby,” he says, kisses the crown of her head and moves to take her luggage in, sorin still clinging to him. home feels like a forever, ticking off the years. there’s no other way to describe it, the surety of the two of them after the rollercoaster to get here, red wrapped around their pinkies. fate, choice, and love, everything in between.
“i made it in time, right? happy anniversary!”
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prof-peach · 2 years
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Hey professor, what's your opinion on the eating of Pokemon? I'm personally against it if I'm honest, Pokemon seem quite sentient and I just can't imagine how awful the industry must be. Sadly I have heard Professor Oak supports this practice, which surprised me given he's so supported in the community. (Based on the episode where he said the Krabby Gary caught would be delicious)
As a professor, you have to accept that caring for Pokemon, especially the carnivores, means you’ll be handling Pokemon meats in some form. The pellet food you can buy? Still has pokemon meats within it, to give your partners a balanced diet with the things they need. Because of this we see a lot of bodies, bits or whole, and have to handle them to feed our patients. I usually do some butchering for smaller species, but despite handling it, I tend not to eat the stuff. Certainly don’t buy it from shops or support the use of it for human consumption much. If however I visit someone’s home, and they offer it, with no other option if I’m staying to eat dinner, and it’s clearly a cultural thing, not just a ‘I want to eat meat so I bought meat’ thing, sure, I’ll partake. For example, some johto areas are big-time old fishing villages, and they have beautiful celebrations involving delicious fish and seafood, but for most of the year they don’t eat the stuff. It’s actually a special event and a treat, an excuse to celebrate I suppose. Have I eaten Octillery there? Sure. There was little other option without being rude. Would I do it again by choice? Nah, not really.
It does also stand that some of us may have a limited amount of exposure to cultures who have lived and survived because of Pokemon hunting and meat. To demonise it is to demonise a whole host of otherwise really good things. You cannot survive the winters in some places without a good stantler pelt jacket, and some waterproof fur lined boots. Yes synthetic mateirals can do the same thing, but they do not degrade and dissipate once thrown away or broken, instead breaking down into small plastic particles, polluting many things with their micro-presence. Teams of grimer try to control it in many regions, but there’s not enough of them to collect all of the micro-plastics up at the rate they are being produced. It’s actually a huge issue in modern times because of the mount of disposable poly-based junk we produce. Having leathers and hides, bone and skin, allows humans to live a far cleaner life. They will not leave behind a plastic trail, and add to the growing issue.
The eating of Pokemon meats isn’t necessary for us humans no, we can substitute with many other things thanks to our omnivorous nature. However historically it plays an important part, and has cultural significance to many. Some think that’s enough of a reason to leat it continue. There is a huge difference between a rare once or twice a year celebration with meat from small local farmers, who do fantastic jobs caring for the Pokemon, and eating it every day after buying it from mass-farmed producers and vendors who don’t care at all about their welfare. Like night and day. Some would still not agree to this, that is also perfectly fine. The beauty is, you get to choose and decide wether you do or don’t want to partake in Pokemon based products. We’re really lucky to live in an era where plant based foods are easy to acquire, for the most part, and finding recipes is super simple, be it from a book or a blog or whatever.
Pokemon are super self aware, some more so than others, and so ethically it raises a lot of red flags. They show similar ranges of emotion to humans, can comprehend language, use tools, have organised society systems, trade, barter, run businesses. It’s not the case for all of them sure, but many can and do. It’s usually closely linked to intelligence levels, so some people are more forgiving of the consumption of relatively dumber Pokemon.
I must admit, I grew up on a farm, luckily dairy, but when a milktank got too old, stopped producing calves, and gave less and less milk, we would send them off to be processed, to use their meats to feed our guard Pokemon, the ones who needed it. Not a single part was wasted, or thrown, and because of that we were able to keep our other Pokemon in good health without funding big corp. farming industries, or having our predatory Pokemon hunt the native wildlife to feed. It is a balancing act for a lot of people, and personal morality comes into play a lot. Some folks find it uncomfortable because of pokemons sentience, others don’t even think about it and eat the stuff daily.
No matter our personal beliefs, we just have to live our way. No matter what oak, myself, or anyone else says, if it makes you uncomfortable, don’t do it. I wholeheartedly agree they’re too self aware to eat, and the mass-market farming that caters to it in some areas is horrific, but it’s also not my place to tell everyone to stop it and switch to a totally veggie diet, especially considering I handle a lot of poke-produce daily. It feels somewhat hypocritical I guess? We source them sustainably and work with overpopulations in local areas, to care for any carnivore means handling it. I can’t say I don’t have blood on my hands, so to speak.
Wether that’s ethical or not? Hm. Grey area for me, loaded question in the modern era that’s for sure.
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48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?
Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping
--
It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.
“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.
The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”
A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.
“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”
Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”
-
Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.
He’s not sure why he bought it.
He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.
They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.
“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”
“So...it’s a pretty weed.”
“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.
Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.
-
The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.
Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.
Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.
Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.
In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.
It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.
It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.
(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)
The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.
Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.
The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.
“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”
Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.
(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)
“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”
Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.
“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.
Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”
Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.
A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.
“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”
“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”
There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.
Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”
“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”
“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”
Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.
Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.
It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.
“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”
“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”
Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.
“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”
Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”
“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”
Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.
“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.
“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”
Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.
He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?
Except...
Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.
The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.
Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.
Sometimes I want things I can’t have.
“Geralt?”
The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.
“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”
Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”
Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.
“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”
When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.
“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.
Geralt nods.
His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.
His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.
“Geralt.”
He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?
“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.
And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”
And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.
His kiss tastes like sunlight.
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anxiouspotatorants · 3 years
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About that medieval fantasy AU for underdog quartet... I have ideas:
- Rory is the bastard daughter of an excommunicated princess (Lorelai). Lorelai ran away to a neighbouring kingdom to not get punished/lose Rory, and she raised Rory as a commoner (a commoner who is more literate than some great scholars in her country, yeah, but still). Christopher’s parents put a curse on her so that if she ever sets foot back in the kingdom the whole land will descend into magical chaos. The AU might start with her and Lorelai already having entered the kingdom again (Kingdom of Hartford?) and trying to find a way to break the curse and reunite with their family.
- Paris is a high ranking lady within the kingdom. She wants to take her lands to new hights and make the history books as the greatest lady they ever had, and has therefore set out on a solo journey to learn as much as she can about the kingdom and how to best run it. She’s loaded with gold, quills and self defense taught by her local knights.
- Lane is a commoner who ran away from home to join a troupe as a musician. Some outside conflict separated her from the troupe and now she’s wandering as a lone bard in search of her band of brothers or her mother’s house (whichever she finds first as she misses both dearly). She has no magic or fighting skills, but she’s good at stealth and catching gossip.
- Jess is a rogue wizard who’s never really belonged anywhere. His mother dragged him from village to village with little ability to plant roots, and eventually left him with her long lost brother before joining a travelling merchant on his route. Jess quickly left his uncle’s care and has travelled on his own, stealing to survive and sticking to himself. He’s seen the instability of sell-sword groups and criminal collectives, and frankly doesn’t trust anyone enough to share a bonfire with them.
- Approximately thirty seconds after Lorelai and Rory set foot back in the Kingdom of Hartford the curse sets in. This signals their return to both Emily and Richard and Christopher’s parents, who both send troops and notices to find and collect them. Lorelai and Rory are thus on the run across the kingdom trying to find a way to break the curse before the soldiers find (and possibly kill) them. At one point they end up in a village called Stars Hollow and seek refuge in Luke’s tavern. But they are spotted by a group of soldiers hired by Emily and Richard, and Lorelai gets caught but manages to help Rory escape. They assumed that the soldiers were from Chris’ side of the family, as their soldiers are more prevalent and up front.
- Like I said both sets of grandparents seek out the Lorelais, but in slightly different ways for very different reasons. The Haydens want to imprison the Lorelais and possibly execute Rory for the crime of cursing the land (a curse that they made but that’s not relevant!). They’re the ones who make wanted posters and dispatch troops all over the land. Rumours and legends spread about the bastard princess who has cursed the kingdom with her return. Emily and Richard, on the other hand, want their daughter back (partly because they do love her and partly because she’s their only heir) and want to find a less violent way to break the curse. They don’t announce their hunt for the Lorelais out of fear of starting conflict with the Haydens, but dispatch undercover groups and sellswords to find and bring back the long lost princesses.
- Alone and afraid, Rory returns to Luke’s tavern and hides there for a while. One day both Paris and Lane make their way to the tavern — Paris in schedule for her educational roadtrip, Lane finally finding her home village and preparing to reunite with her mother. They end up talking and bickering downstairs while a shadowy figure sneaks by them and up to Luke’s quarters. Jess was just supposed to steal some food and pay in gold he found in a dead dragon’s den, but instead he finds a blue eyed stranger. Rory thinks she’s caught and runs downstairs. Jess is curious and follows, breaking his stealth from Luke. Rory crashes into Paris who starts interrogating Luke about the tavern being a secret whorehouse, and the five are descending into verbal chaos before Rory spots Hayden guards and hides behind the cupboards. Lane picks up on the danger and makes an impromptu distraction with Paris while Jess sneaks her out the back. Once outside he asks Rory what’s going on, and he’s soon followed by Paris and Lane. Rory brings up a cover about being cursed by someone and the soldiers hunting her in relation to said curse. The other three buy the story and decide to join her on a quest to cure her.
- It honestly takes so little time before Rory breaks and explains that she isn’t cursed but rather is the curse. Paris is angry at the lie, but little else changes but the motivation to help Rory. Jess goes from «I’m bored and directionless» to «I really like this girl and could finally do something that matters». Lane goes from «I’m procrastinating on facing my mother» to «I’m helping my new friend and have a new chance at adventure (and still procrastinating on my mother)». Paris goes from «This could be relevant for my future occupation» to «This could be even more relevant to my future occupation, also I have a friend now».
- Paris gives Rory the cover of one of her stewardesses, but most of the time the four travel by foot or bought horses as unknowns. Jess does scouting and trap laying for threats while the girls alternate on getting food. 
- When it comes to gathering information, Lane and Paris are the best at gathering intel from other people - Lane through gossip and Paris through interrogation. Jess is great at breaking and entering and stealing important texts for research, and him and Rory are the best at deciphering the texts (much to Paris’ frustration). 
- The key to breaking the curse could be something like “when substance stronger than blood is spilled for the unworthy”. Rory actually gets found by Emily and Richard before they can break the curse and there is a short period where the four are separated and Rory thinks maybe the lands will have to live with the curse unless she sacrifices herself. Then Lane overhears a plot to assassinate her and warns Jess and Paris. The three storm in just in time to warn king Richard and queen Emily, but the accusation of two commoners and a lady against the royal Haydens is obviously considered a crime. They declare to strip Paris of her title and are about to execute Jess and Lane when Rory steps in and stops the axe. She gets deep cuts in her hands and bleeds. It is revealed that her choosing to spill her own blood - which becomes the symbolic substance of her love for them - for commoners (who royals deem “unworthy”) is what breaks the curse. 
- So the happy ending: Paris gets her title back and she, Jess and Lane are pronounced heroes of the kingdom. The Haydens apologize for the curse and get no consequences because that would mean a war declaration and oh boy do we not have time for that. Rory is legitimized and becomes next in line after her mother. 
- Lane gets the title of “royal bard” and returns to Stars Hollow to finally face her mother. Mrs Kim must admit that she is proud of her daughter but has most of all missed her, and after the mandatory bickering the two reconcile. She has also reunited with the troupe at some point before the climax, and they are now a full troupe with tight connections to the crown. 
- In addition to her title and hero-status, Paris gets a place in court. She makes mentors of the king’s advisers and now works to become a royal adviser to both Lorelais.
- Jess is offered knighthood but declines. He tells Rory that he needs to go on a journey of his own and leaves. He returns to Stars Hollow and Luke, and gives Luke a whole chest of gold and the title to Lord of Stars Hollow (courtesy of princess Lorelai). He goes dark for some months, then appears at night in the castle on Rory’s window-ledge. They talk for hours until the sun rises and then agree to make Jess an official scout for the kingdom, travelling around and figuring out the magic and creatures of the land. 
- Rory’s first move after the reunification of her family is to get to know her estranged relatives and upgrade her education through the royal masters. After Jess returns she convinces her mother and grandparents to let her join Jess as an ambassador for the kingdom. She uses Paris’ argument of wanting to truly know the country she is supposed to rule one day, and the whole band gets back together for new quests.
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aenwoedbeannaa · 4 years
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Pretty Words | Geralt x Reader
Requested by: salmonbutter 
Summary: Geralt may have needed some help finding a book, and the bookkeeper's apprentice may be the reason he keeps coming back. 
Word Count: 2,319 
Warnings: Implied smut.
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The first time he came into the rather blandly named Book Emporium, you had been an Apprentice, still shaking with nerves every time the bell on the door announced the coming of a customer. Now, of course, you can handle curious visitors with ease--you know every nook and cranny of the shop. You know where to find books on monsters, from alghouls to wyrvenns. You know which books identify plants and their magical properties, and which books can help an herbalist use those very same plants to create poisons.
But, on the day that the Witcher first walked into the store, you were probably more lost than he was as you dashed between the stacks, trying to find the book he was looking for. You could feel your face blushing, your cheeks positively on fire, when he gave you a playful feline grin and pulled a book off of the shelf that you would not have been able to reach without stepping up onto the battered wooden ladder.
You were scared, because this was your first time alone in the shop, and you didn't want Artur to think you incompetent. You wiped your sweaty palms on your apron, feigning nonchalance. You were desperately trying to think of something to say, anything to break the tension.
Thankfully, you didn't have to.
"Well, with it being all the way up here, it's not a wonder that you didn't see it," he said with a smirk. 
****
The second time the bells chimed and you looked up to see his familiar white hair, you were thankfully much more composed. It had been at least a couple of months since you had last seen him, and you wondered if he had used that book on wraiths to kill one. He was a Witcher, after all.
You maneuvered around the few stray piles of books behind the counter and stepped around front to greet him.
"Geralt!" You exclaimed, a bit too brightly.
Mentally cursing yourself for looking, you assumed, like a star-struck villager. "How can I help you, Sir?"
"You can start," he began slowly in that gravely tone that you'd been playing over and over in your head since the last time he'd been here, "By dropping the Sir." 
You nodded--too eagerly, once again. "Of course! Sorry si--Geralt."
"Second, I didn't catch your name last time, Miss."
Given that you had spent most of your life lost in books, you were not used to that question. You were invisible to most people, it seemed.
"Y/N," you answered timidly.
You weren't sure if it was the fact that you were not so great at hiding your emotions or whether he could hear your hammering heartbeat with his Witcher senses, but either way, you heart leapt into your throat when he leaned over on the counter, bringing his face only inches from yours.
"Are you always this nervous, Y/N?" He leaned slightly closer, a seemingly out-of-place grin on his lips. "Or are you scared of Witchers?"
It was a rhetorical question, but you answered anyway, conversation coming easy despite all of the awkwardness.
"No, not afraid of Witchers," you said, a vivid memory coming to mind. "Once, when I was little, I was sitting out in the field--on the hill--you know, the one outside the town a ways away?"
He nodded understanding, so you continued on.
"Well, I was reading, and all of a sudden, this thing... " You shuddered at the memory, losing your train of thought for a moment.
"A Drowner?" the Witcher interrupted your strangled thoughts. "The stream there is teeming with them. They usually stay well away from settlements, though." His amber eyes hinted concern as he looked at you expectantly.
You nodded, pushing the unpleasant memory out of your head.
"Yes, a Drowner... And anyway, there was a Witcher... He hacked it up pretty well."
"I'll have to thank him," Geralt said so seriously that you believed him wholeheartedly.
"Vizimir was his name," you added, surprised you could still remember. "He wouldn't even let me pay. I offered him the book I was reading--I didn't have any gold, you see."
"So, the old man doesn't always follow the Witcher Code," he said with a gleam in his eye.
There was a moment of silence before he finally broke eye contact and leaned back, eyes scanning the stacks of books behind you as if searching for something to focus on.
"I am here for a book about similar things," he said. "Would you happen to know if you have a book about alghouls, would you?"
This time, you knew exactly where to point him. He still stuck around to hear your explanation of three different volumes and the slight difference between.
He bought all three.
***
The pattern continued over the next few months. Every few weeks, the door chime would sound and you would look up to see your silver-haired friend.
One time in particular, you were surprised to see that the afternoon had faded to twilight and the candles had burned down nearly to stumps as you poured over books with Geralt. He was researching a Witcher potion, or something like it that was more suitable for humans. He didn't tell you what for, but it didn't matter much.
He ended up purchasing one of the rare texts, the ones you had to fish out from the back room.
Another time, he caught you off guard, while you were completely wrapped up in the novel you were reading. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard his voice from just over the counter. Your embarrassment only grew when he asked you what it was that you were so interested in that you hadn't even heard the door chime and you had to give him a brief synopsis of a fictional kingdom... and a princess and a knight.
It was really quite mortifying.
***
Though you will never admit it, your favorite section of the store is nestled in the back corner, where the deceptively large collection of fiction is stacked on crowded shelves. Your mentor is always telling you that you should be reading books of more importance. But those books, as important as they may be, are of little interest to you. You know enough about history and mankind to know that the history books are full of only war, pestilence, and suffering.
Reading is your escape. So, important or not, you spend many a quiet afternoon nestled in the back of the shop on one of the old chairs that has been scratched to pieces by the bookshop's cat, Erasmus. (An old, fearsome looking but completely harmless thing with a bad habit of sharpening his claws on the furniture and chewing on the corners of priceless manuscripts.)
This is where Geralt caught you this time. Though, to be fair, you heard the door chime, and you'd had to scramble out of your warm little corner. It was actually just past closing hours, and there had hardly been a soul in the shop all day. It was one of those early winter days, where the weather seemed to be reminding everyone of the bitter cold to come.
"Y/N," Geralt grinned, "I found your lair." He had somehow managed to cross the length of the shop in only a couple seconds. How Witcher-y of him. You told him so.
By now, you had slipped into an easy friendship with the Witcher. You no longer stammered when he talked. At least, most of the time you didn't.
It took you a moment to realize that he was carrying something this time--a book. You raised an eyebrow, also immediately realizing that it was not a book from the shop. This one had a ribbon tied around it. Artur was not one for such frivolous things. There was not a scrap of ribbon or wrapping paper in the entire shop, you were sure. So he must have brought this with him.
Clearly aware that you were staring curiously, he offered it to you--for once, he was the one with a slightly bashful look on his face as he waited for you to take it.
You took the book in both hands, blushing slightly as you pulled the ribbon loose and inspected the cover. It was well-worn, just like most of the books in the shop. You recognized the author, though, and your eyes sparkled as you teared up slightly. You didn't even remember the last time someone had given you a gift.
"But..." You stammered, flipping through the pages in disbelief. "This isn't even supposed to exist!" It was a continuation of the book that he'd caught you reading before. It was published only once, so there were an incredibly limited number of copies. Sure enough, you saw the words 'first edition' printed on the yellowing page. "I mean... there are only, maybe, fifty in all the world!"
The Witcher's amber gaze was fixed on you as you poured excitedly over the text. "Well, I see a lot of the world," he said. "With my job, and all."
His words only served to fill you with more emotion. You wiped your eyes quickly, not wanting to look stupid for crying over a silly book. "Thank you, Geralt," you said, eyes fixed on the book so that you wouldn't have to look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Truly."
You registered the feeling of his calloused fingers under your chin at half-speed. The world seemed to slow down has he titled your face up to his. He brushed a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. His touch was gentle even though his skin was rough. Your knees nearly buckled.
"Don't cry on me, Y/N," he said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "I'm glad you like it."
For what felt like an endless time, but was probably only a few seconds, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other, unable to look away as if held by magic.
Tension pulled tight as a rope when he spoke next.
"I'm not an expert on these kinds of things, but a when there are no monsters to save the Princess from, it only seems right that the Knight brings her a present."
"I...Gera--" he cut off you stuttering by pulling you firmly into his arms and pressing his lips to yours.
You responded immediately, so quickly that the book slipped from your hands as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. Breathing seemed basically out of the question when one one of his arms snaked around your waist and the other tangled itself firmly in your hair.
You had to admit, you certainly felt like a princess when he picked you up, avoiding the stray stacks of books littering the floor. You were absolutely certain, though, that the cold of his Witcher medallion pressing against your chest was a far more pleasant feeling that chain mail would.
You had approximately a millisecond to catch your breath when he pulled away to lay you on on the oversized chair and strip off his weapons and then he was on top of you, with his lips on your neck.
You had no idea how much time passed between that first kiss and when you lay with your head in his lap, his fingers stroking your hair, out of breath and utterly spent. All you knew was that you'd knocked more than a few piles of books over. There was lots of moaning--you? Him? Your head was still too clouded to remember.
Finally, though, you had to get up and pull your clothes back on. You couldn't very well sleep in the store, no matter how much you wanted to just lay there, curled up against his warmth.
Geralt stayed with you as you did your final rounds around the shop, extinguishing candles and placing loose books, abandoned by customers in the strangest of places, as usual. Thankfully, this was a relatively simple task considering you knew the bookshop like the back of your hand. Admittedly, it was a task you usually did in the morning before the shop opened. But Geralt was here now, and you wanted to stretch your time with him as far as you could.
Soon enough, however, every stray book was in its place, and all but the candle glowing on the wall next to the door were long-cold. You hesitated in the doorway, keenly aware of Geralt standing only inches away.
You blinked up at him, feeling uncertain of what you should say next. This was not a position that you were often in. In fact, it was a situation that you were never in.
Finally, you manage to cobble together a sentence out of the thousands of words in your head.
"I do hope to see you again soon, Geralt."
The Witcher's amber eyes are fixed on yours, looking like liquid gold even in the faint light of the single candle.
"Well, it is winter," he said thoughtfully. "And I was thinking that this year, perhaps, I'd like to do my wintering somewhere away from Kaer Moren."
You smiled then, tentatively reaching out to touch him, but pulling back at the last moment. You chewed on your lip for a moment, heartbeat racing in your chest.
"I know a place that you could stay."
Geralt's gaze had not left you for a moment, but now he reached to pull you to his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head, stopping for a moment to breathe in the smell of your hair.
Geralt pulled away slightly, one large hand resting on each shoulder.
"Please, lead the way, Princess," he said as he blew out the final candle. 
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Text
Whumptober Day 24: Silently We Endure
Summary: Written For Whumptober Day 24. A thousand years after the passing of his Rider, Toothless has found him again. This person is both familiar as well as completely foreign to him, but the kind of past he's left behind as he lives with Toothless and the other dragons matters little. He has found him again and that is enough for Toothless.
Rating: Teen and up
Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Stormfly
Pairing: None
Words: 2 787
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Prompt: "Forced Mutism”
Whumpee: Hiccup
Author’s Notes: MY 100TH SUBMISSION TO AO3!!!!!
Written for the Whumptober prompt: "Forced Mutism" But instead of showing the whumpee being made mute, I have it as something that is just there.
Constructive criticism is appreciated!
Enjoy!
Ao3
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Just like any other day nowadays, today is unbearably hot as well. The sun beats down on the Earth and Toothless finds little solace in the shade, where it is only slightly less hot.
It is late in the afternoon and still the heat hangs on, stubbornly refusing to leave and making all of those trapped within it suffer. He finds himself preferring the chill of the North from so long ago.
It is cooler, though. It is just slightly cooler than it was hours ago at midday and that is the only reason why he is outside in the shade now and not in the cave he and his Rider have made their own.
He's an old dragon. He shouldn't be exposed to such heat when there are places he can lie in that are much more suited to his needs, but his Rider is out here and even after all this time he will still do anything and everything for him.
Now that he thinks of it, he should probably check up on him again and make sure he isn't doing anything reckless when he should be busying himself with making their home livable.
Unlike him, Hiccup isn't old. He's still 18-years-old, a young man, and therefore much too energetic and prone to foolishness.
The home he's supposed to be making liveable is an enormous cave system on the side of a mountain. While the outside is much too hot during the day, the temperature inside the cave is much more stable and thus easier to endure than the outside.
It's a dragon's kind of home, quite suitable for someone who is more dragon than human himself. And safer for him than any human settlement can be, too.
The details are lost on Toothless, but Hiccup wants to somehow bring cooler air into their home through the use of the sun. He has no idea how he's going to accomplish that, but that is the gist of it.
Using humanity's current technology, he wants to create a house specifically for plants, too, a place for animals, a dragon nursery, and so much more. Toothless isn't sure how this will all work, but he believes his Rider capable. This Hiccup will not remember it, but he has proven himself capable of great things before.
He's trying to create an entire village and he's doing it all on his own. Of course, the dragons present are willing to help in any way they can, but much of it is still Hiccup's work. His brain work, at least.
Deciding to get up, Toothless stretches his stiff body, his back and joints popping loudly, his wings in particular before he exits the chamber he and Hiccup have made their own.
There isn't much yet, just the mere beginnings of a home, but it's enough for them for the time being.
The cave system is extensive and it is roomy. Some of the chambers have a sky pocket that allows the light of the sun to come in and it's in such a room that Toothless finds his human.
It is large, dusty, and sandy with little plant life, and in the center is Hiccup with an adolescent Rumblehorn and Toothless remembers him well. He and Hiccup, still insisting on saving every dragon in need, saved this one about a week ago. He has been injured and Hiccup has been nursing him back to health.
He is with him now and tending to his wounds, changing the dressings. Stormfly is there as well, patiently holding his satchel with medical supplies in her beak.
Rumblehorns have thick armor covering their entire bodies except for their underbellies. Hiccup is tending to a wound on the side of this one's belly, using something that sticks to keep the dressings in place.
Toothless' entrance draws Hiccup's attention and he smiles before waving. The dragon responds by coming over with a skip in his step and cooing before he headbutts his Rider and nuzzles him, an affectionate gesture that Hiccup gladly returns with a breathy laugh.
He points towards the wound and Toothless sees what Hiccup wants to show him. The Rumblehorn is well on the mend and the injury looks better than it did when they first found him.
Rumbling proudly at the human's skill, Toothless nudges his back before he lets him work, Hiccup waving him off.
He can practically see it on his face, the "okay, Bud, see you later". He can still hear it in his voice, too, and that while Toothless has never heard him speak in this life before.
His Rider, he can't talk and not by choice.
Though he was walking away, Toothless pauses to watch him get back to work, spotting the faint scar on his throat. The people who did that to him are unknown to Toothless and they should count themselves lucky for that.
"I talk too much," Hiccup had once told him. Or rather, signed to him as he uses his hands to speak now. It's like the hand signals the Dragon Riders of old once used, but much more elaborate. Old as he is, Toothless still manages to understand him even now. His hands have always been very talkative.
Toothless will never understand the reasoning behind a human hurting another human, let alone take away a physical part of them so important to their everyday life.
The dragon returns to his human's side again, who glances at him with a brow raised in confusion. His face is still just as expressive as he remembers.
Lying down next to him, Toothless watches the rest of the treatment instead of going back to the slightly more comfortable room like he originally intended. Hiccup reaches, left hand holding the new dressings in place and a metallic hand comes to land on his head for a quick petting.
Much like his Viking, this one has lived a life already.
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Toothless always keeps an eye on Hiccup, feeling more responsible for the much younger one than ever before.
But in the event that they're not together, they still have a way for him to call out to his dragon.
As Toothless is just down the entrance hall of the cave, searching for his rider as Stormfly made it clear that he was outside in the searing sun when he hears a whistle. Since he can't shout, that's his call for him, a high-pitched whistle. It reaches quite far and is quite loud, which makes it perfect.
Toothless comes running.
"Eh? What was that for? You're not alone?" For as temperamental as dragons can be, there's a certain species of animal that Hiccup fears more than the firebreathing creatures he lives with.
Humans.
Toothless comes outside growling, spotting the two giving his rider trouble. It's not like Hiccup is defenseless, he knows how to knock a head or two around. He just feels much safer with a dragon near, with the Night Fury especially.
"Oh shit, is that a dragon?" One of them yelps in both surprise and amazement, both of them stumble backward in fright.
They are both oddly dressed, having too much stuff on their person. But then they also have something Toothless believes is called a "car" with too much stuff. Traders, perhaps? Or are they thieves?
Feeling much more secure with Toothless around, Hiccup faces the two humans who have come, quite literally, to the middle of nowhere for reasons that can't possibly be good.
"I have nothing." He signs, an air of suspicion around him as he doesn't trust these two at all.
"Again, we have no idea what you're saying, kid. Can't you use your words at all?" The one with the blue vest tied around their waist asks. Since they haven't shared their names yet, Toothless will be referring to this one as "Blue Vest" and the other one as "Red Scarf".
"If they could, I'm sure they would've. But they can't, they're mute." Red Scarf points out to the other one, who looks sheepish.
Toothless isn't sure what to think of these two. Despite their mysterious appearance in this area and their unknown reasons, they don't give off any bad vibes. What sets him off is Hiccup's distrust of them and he distrusts any human they have met so far in their one year since their reunion.
He has reasons not to trust them, sad as they are.
As Hiccup approaches Toothless, coming to stand by his side in the crook of his wing, Red Scarf points something out to their companion. They are both staring at the right side of Hiccup's head, where his hair is the shortest.
"You're a slave?"
Blue Vest asks and Hiccup presses himself further into his dragon's side, hand on his scales. Toothless can almost hear his heart beginning to race.
He shakes his head, offended that they would even ask, though the scar they noticed was indeed once a brand. His glare says enough. And for a short moment, the air is tense. What will the two do now that they have figured this out?
"Not anymore. Doesn't matter if he's a runaway or bought himself free either." Red Scarf states and goes to the back of the car to look in the back.
"Explains the mutism." Blue Vest awkwardly says to their friend, rubbing the back of their neck.
"And your location. You're hiding?" Red Scarf asks, but Hiccup isn't answering that, which is ironically the only answer they need.
Red Scarf comes back holding something wrapped in brown in their hands and cautiously approaches Hiccup, who has to stop himself from backing up. Red Scarf keeps glancing back at the dragon, watching for any signs of aggression.
Toothless lets them get closer, not sensing any ill intent in their approach. When they reach his human and push that pack into his hands, they back off again and join their friend.
"We're leaving now, we're going to leave you alone. So take care, okay? Don't run into any trouble?" Red Scarf asks, to which Hiccup nods reluctantly, confused by these turn of events.
Meeting humans has never gone well for him and these two were the first since coming to live here with these dragons.
It surprises him that they are kind and want him to stay safe instead of trying to drag him back to wherever someone like him needs to be.
They drive off, leaving Toothless content with the way this interaction has gone and Hiccup feeling confused and unsure what he should think of this. But he opens the pack and finds neatly packed food with a container of water and he didn't even need to trade anything for it. He's been given this purely out of the kindness of their hearts.
Has his previous low status garnered him sympathy? In hindsight, they seemed nice. But despite this, Hiccup's history with other humans means he isn't sure what to think or feel.
Toothless headbutts his back to tell him to come back inside with the other dragons. It's getting late, the sun is nearly all the way down, it's time for bed.
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He was sold into slavery early into his teens.
He doesn't know why he's not even sure if it's the truth. All he knows is that this is what he's been told his entire time as "free labor" before he inevitably escaped.
Toothless wasn't surprised to hear that the reason Hiccup is now free is that he escaped. He has always been a free spirit, even as a Viking, especially as a Viking. Unable to be pinned down, too stubborn to just give up the fight. He can stumble, but he clearly did not give up until he could taste the sky.
He hasn't given the dragon the details on what happened during that time and maybe he never will. All that Toothless truly knows is that it makes Hiccup wake up and break out in tears during many of the nights they spend together.
There are no loud sobs, no crying. Toothless wakes up to labored breaths and lifts his head to look at the troubled human as he sits within his coils. Curled up, his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, he cries.
He does so without sound, he can't help it without a voice. If Toothless didn't have such a sharp hearing, he wouldn't have even noticed.
Crooning, Toothless straightens and nudges Hiccup's temple to draw his attention. He gives it to him, wrapping an arm around the Night Fury to keep him close. The other, his right, he cradles to his chest. It must hurt and Toothless can guess what the nightmare he woke up from must've been about.
Because his right forearm and hand, just like his left leg once again, is a prosthetic. It's not like any replacement the Vikings he once knew used to have as his new hand looks and works like a hand and his metal foot looks and works like a foot.
He built them both himself from whatever scraps he could find after his escape. Even when he only had one hand to work with, he still created the other without help. Toothless has watched him do it.
And because they are made of scraps, they look like scraps, but to Toothless, they are the most advanced things he has ever seen and his human made them! He can still make everything.
But right now is not the time to think of Hiccup's ingenuity. His right arm is hurting, phantom limb pain, and it's making bad memories resurface. Because whoever used to own him before, they're the ones who took so many parts from him.
"Toothless," A raspy voice, barely above a whisper, crawls out of his throat with much difficulty. The only reason the dragon can hear it is because of his exceptional hearing.
Knowing that a breakdown might be imminent, Toothless quickly wraps a foreleg around him to pull him closer as Hiccup silently sobs and snuggles closer to his dragon in search of comfort and safety. It must've been a terrible nightmare and his arm hurting certainly doesn't help.
Moaning sadly, Toothless holds him closer and lets him cry.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It took the better part of a couple of hours before Hiccup could calm enough for them to fall back asleep. He'd needed to let it all out and take some painkillers to make the hurting in his arm stop. After that, once the pain in his heart had abated, too, he could finally sleep again.
It's nights like that that the old Night Fury hates the most. When his Rider is in so much pain that he suffers for hours on end and he hates that he wasn't there to keep it all from happening. So he could keep his leg, so he could keep his arm, the trust in other humans that is supposed to be infallible unless necessary, his voice.
They broke him, tore him piece by piece so many times that even he could hardly survive. Whoever thought themselves deserving of his Rider, Hiccup Haddock, and decided they could be his tormentor they are nameless and faceless, but Toothless despises them all the same. They better hope that they never run into him.
But there is one saving grace.
The next morning after a most difficult and emotionally taxing night, a soundless and breathy laugh reaches the old dragon's ears and he looks over at Hiccup and his latest project, the one that is supposed to bring cooler temperatures during the nigh unbearable Summer days. It, too, is made out of scraps and parts collected on their many trips.
But instead of working now, when the day is cool, Hiccup spends his time playing with the few hatchlings that have managed to be born in this cave. Their numbers are dwindling everywhere.
His arm prosthetic gone for the day after the night he's had to let the limb have a break, Hiccup plays with the hatchling by throwing his wrench in a game of fetch.
It always takes a while to come back to him, the little nadders fighting amongst themselves for who gets to bring the tool. And in the meantime, Hiccup continues his work, frequently looking back at the three before he has to inevitably throw the wrench again.
It's the nights that lay him bare, that show him at his most vulnerable and shows the barely glued cracks inside of him. But during the day, that's when he shows that, despite being broken, he can still thrive just fine.
So Toothless can lay his head down again and continue his rest for the moment.
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it-begins-with-rain · 3 years
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Animal Crossing Tips & Tricks! (Part 4)
Part 4: Resident Services Gets Sexy, Kicking Out Villagers, and The Able Sisters
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Resident Services Upgrade:
Once your 5th villager moves in, Tom Nook will let you know that the tent is closing down. For the entire next day you will be unable to access the ATM and the plaza will feature construction scaffolding.
The day AFTER that though, you’ll finally reach the end of what I call the “Tutorial Phase” of the game.
You’ll have a large brick plaza, and morning announcements will now be the domain of the perky and fun-loving poodle Isabelle!
You also get a host of new things you can do!
Tom Nook:
Tom handles all things housing.
For 5,000 bells, you can customize your home. There are multiple house expansions you buy from Tom Nook as you pay off the previous loan. Each expansion adds something you can customize or adds onto the existing catalogue of options. Mailboxes, doors, roof, and siding are customizable at different stages of expansion.
For 10,000 bells, he will give you a plot marker so you can invite new villagers to your island. They will move in with their SPECIAL CUSTOM HOME, no more defaults.
For 50,000 bells, you can move any villagers home, Nooks Cranny, or the Museum. The next morning they will appear where you place the marker.
For 50,000 bells you can move YOUR home anywhere you want. It’s alright if your current loan isn’t paid off, you can move it all the same.
You can also order the construction of one incline or bridge at a time. You choose from a small catalogue of styles (they will NOT match most of the permanent paths you can later build, just FYI), and place the bridge or incline marker kit where you’d like it to go.
A small orange creature appears with the scaffolding. The bridge or incline will be built the DAY AFTER you pay off the entire project.
You can go to Tom Nook to erase a bridge or incline- EVEN IF IT HASN’T BEEN BUILT YET.
Isabelle
Isabelle handles all things non-construction.
You can now submit one of the designs in your Designer App to replace the current flag (look online for patterns to recreate or wait until you unlock the clothing store and can download other user-created patterns).
You can create a custom tune for the town song. This is the little whistle pattern you hear every time you enter a building or initiate a conversation.
Isabelle also mediates disputes you have with other villagers. What this means is if you talk to her about a villager and say you’re having problems, she will say she will “speak with them”.
All this does is re-sets their personality marker. Nothing more.
Isabelle CANNOT help you get rid of villagers (more on that later).
Island Rating
Tom Nook informs you that he needs to speak with you about the next phase of the plan! He wants you to make the island nicer.
Once your island reaches a 3-star rating (Talk to Isabelle for your current rating and hints on how to improve it), musician KK Slider will visit. Consider this somewhat “Winning the game”. But not really.
Your island rating will probably be around 1-2 stars at this point.
Raise the rating by building fences, planting multiple species of fruit and flower, placing objects around your island (such as making little cafe areas), picking up weeds, not leaving dropped items (such as crafting materials or items in the little leaf icon form), crafting DIY recipes and placing them around the island, and building bridges and inclines.
You also need at least 7 villagers to reach 3 stars.
Up to now vacant plots have been “if you build it, he will come”, meaning they are sold by the next morning.
Now, however, your island rating matters. Plots might sit vacant for multiple days if your island rating is low.
The Campsite for Passive Aggressive Magicians
At this point, Tom Nook will give you a kit to build a campsite.
Once it is built, Isabelle will tell you in the daily announcement if there is a visitor at the campsite.
You can chat with visitors to the campsite and hopefully convince them to move to your island.
They will reject staying, then give you a challenge. You have to guess either the color of a playing card or the suite (heart, diamond, spade, club). 
They’ll also give you this challenge in exchange for clothes or other items.
If they reject moving to your island, just keep asking them. They’ll say they admire how you don’t listen to them or respect their opinion, then give you another attempt to guess the card right.
If you don’t have a plot of land available, just go set one up and they’ll offer to check with Tom again.
The first campsite visitor is special though. Your first villager is one you *have* to invite to live on the island.
They will move in with their special custom house design.
If you’re lucky it’s a cool villager and not a douche (fucking Julian).
Villagers (and how to get rid of the old ones)!
The rule from before holds- if you have an available plot of land (no matter your star rating), you will find random villagers on Mystery Islands. If you have enough miles to buy a bunch of Nook Miles Tickets (or *cough* buy a pack of nook miles on Amazon), you can be picky and shop around as much as you’d like.
Getting rid of the old ones is a game of luck. 
Each day you talk to a villager they get a point, giving them gifts that align with their style or favorite colors also gives points (you can find online guides to help you in this or download the ACNH.Guide phone app).
NOT talking to a villager removes a point.
Ignore a villager- sometimes it takes a couple weeks- until you see them pacing the island deep in thought with a little thought bubble above their head.
Talk to them and they will say they were thinking about exploring other islands. Encourage them to leave.
The next day Isabelle will announce they are leaving. Their house will be “in boxes”, so everything in moving boxes.
There is an opportunity at this point:: If someone else wants that villager, they can visit your island and chat with them while their house is in boxes. They will be able to invite the villager to move to THEIR island instead.
Likewise, if you have a free plot you can visit a villager on a friend’s island who is “in boxes” and invite them to live with you.
There are online forums devoted to letting people grab in-boxes villagers from one another.
The day after a villager is in-boxes their house will return to the scaffolding form and you can hunt down new villagers on Mystery Islands.
The Able Sisters
Each day you will have a different visitor to the island, and some of them will appear in your plaza.
The most important visitor at this point in the game is Mable- a blue hedgehog.
Every time you see her, buy as much of her wares as you can afford, even if you don’t like it.
Once you’ve bought 5,000 bells worth of items, she’ll say she and her sister were thinking of moving to the island and setting up a shop.
She will give you the  building kit for the Able Sisters shop.
When the shop opens, every single day there will be new clothing items available. Don’t rely on the mannequins and displays in the shop- go into the fitting room to try on things in many different colors!
At the back of the shop is a kiosk. Players who design their own clothes upload them to the Nintendo servers. Using the kiosk and typing in those codes (or now there is a keyword search) will give you outfits that others have designed! Save the outfits to your DesignPro phone app (on your in-game phone).
Open your phone app (in game phone) to select the outfit to wear!
At the back of the store is Sable- a red hedgehog.
She is unfriendly when you first visit.
Talk to her every single day and she will slowly- over a week or two- become friendlier.
Once Able is fully unlocked as a friend, she will give you patterns to customize the fabrics of your DIY projects.
Visit her daily still to get more patterns at random.
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investinpak-blog · 4 years
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Business Ideas in Pakistan 2020: Complete Roadmap
Pakistan has world’s fifth-largest population (212.2 million or 21 crores) in the world. A consumer’s market this big is an opportunity for all sorts of businesses. Numerous studies show that several markets within Pakistan are still untapped. These untapped markets present a sublime business opportunity. Covering all of the business ideas in Pakistan within this blog post was not an easy task. After working for several days, I have this complete list of small to medium business ideas.
The best thing about this list of business ideas in Pakistan is that I have divided it into several slabs. For example, business ideas according to budget, education, age, expertise and according to interest. You won’t find a more comprehensive list anywhere else.
Just click on the following tabs and you will find business ideas that suit your budget and expertise.
Business ideas from 1 to 5 lakh contain all businesses that can be started within this range. I have invested a lot of time in this section because huge number of people have a budget in this range. Bear in mind that I am going to describe the requriements of each business in detail and these details will contain the major slabs that I mentioned earlier.
Let’s start with the most common business ideas.
Business Ideas in Pakistan from 1 lakh to 5 lakh Rupees
1- Homemade Food Delivery Business
This is a business where you can cook one or more dishes at home and can deliver to the customer’s doorstep. The dishes could be desi food, special cakes, kinds of pasta or fast food. The choice of dishes may be defined by your expertise and the budget you have. Do you want to start food delivery business?
i- If you have about 5 lacks in your pocket, you can deliver a different yet better Pizzas or Burgers via one of the food delivery networks. For example, Foodpanda, EatOye, Careem or Bikea. De Macho’s Pizza works on this model. They might start a dine-in soon but the current profits are coming from Foodpanda.
ii- If you have a budget of 1 lakh in your pocket, you can start with one special dish. For example, Sarang Sindhi Cuisine in F-11 Markaz Islamabad started their business via special Sindhi biryani at home.  The owner is a lady and she runs a pretty good setup in F-11 Markaz now.
iii- You will find several housewives selling these fantastic cupcakes and event cakes online. The business could be started by creating a facebook page and displaying some of your creations. Just keep in mind that if you do not like Foodpanda, you will need someone from the family or from the neighborhood to deliver your dishes to the customers.
Requirements: You will need the budget, yourself or someone who can cook, a kitchen. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Entry level, the dishes must taste very good. Time: Part-time in most dishes. Area: Nearby your kitchen. For example, an area of 20km around your home kitchen.
2- Local Food Stalls
If you are thinking that a huge number of stalls are already there on the streets, you are right. However, we at Investinpak are suggesting our readers to be innovative. Let’s see how innovative you can get.
i- I found this small local food stall business idea online and I think it is pretty much untapped in Pakistan. This is by all means innovative and looks pretty tasty. Everyone is selling potato chips, you just need to be innovative.
More business ideas in Pakistan related to Food Stalls
You do not have to be a vendor yourself, you can get someone to sell them for you. One of my buddies started this in Lahore and he is absolutely sure to invest more in this business. These local food stalls could be seen as a startup experiment that require minimum setup budget and time. Once the startup starts generating profits, you can get a shop nearby and start a full-fledge restaurant.
I would advise against starting a restaurant without prior experience. Most people having 5 lakh in their bank tend to start a fast-food restaurant. I have seen dozens of people failing and losing their money. You need to introduce something new and you need to do it small to get some experience.
Requirements: Equipment for spiral potato. Someone who could sell for you. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Entry level. Time: Mostly in the evenings or at night. Area: Nearby market, institute or office buildings.
3- Online Business like eCommerce
This is where you will require at least some knowledge of computers. You will find a huge list of software houses that are ready to create these eCommerce stores for you. All you need to do is find a product that you can purchase at a wholesale price and then can deliver to the customers at a retail price.
You can also buy running businesses from Flippa and start earning from day 1. You will need extensive knowledge of online businesses to be able to buy a profitable business.
i- If your budget is around 1 lakh then you will be restricted to purchasing products from local markets. Because a good software house will charge at least 50,000PKR to create a sustainable eCommerce store. A bad looking website will only help you lose the rest of your money.
ii- If your budget is around 5 lakh, then you can consider ordering products from Alibaba and then selling them in Pakistan. This is profitable if you can choose a product that can help people. You will need to do extensive research on selecting a product and a vendor from China.
Running an ecommerce business from local products or from Alibaba products is tricky. If you are interested in doing this business, leave your contact details in the comments and I will contact you.
Requirements: A website or a Facebook page, products from local markets or from Alibaba. Education: Basic computer knowledge. Good knowledge of import incase of Alibaba. Expertise Level: Mid-level. Time: Online businesses are 24/7. Call timings can be managed. Area: The city you are living in, to begin with.
4- Fresh Milk and Related Products Home Delivery
This is one of the most profitable business ideas in Pakistan. The reason behind is that Milk, Butter, Desi Ghee, and Cheese are required in every kitchen. On top of that, we know that 99% of the local vendors are not providing pure milk and related products.
All you need is to establish a Facebook page to start delivering these products. The question is, where do you get them and how much money do you need for this?
Let’s evaluate the business in detail.
All of these tools and essentials can be bought within one lakh, but if your budget is near 5 lakh, you can increase the quantity.
A cow or a buffalo, someone who can manage the same. A person who can deliver milk at doorsteps. If you have more than 3 cows or buffaloes, you can start extracting butter, desi ghee or cheese. You will need an expert who has the experience of doing so. These people can easily be hired from your nearby village.
Trust me, anybody who finds out that your products are actually pure will never end doing business with you. On top of that, you will get regular appraisals and customers from these references.
Requirements: Cow or buffalo, a person to manage them, delivery guy. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Mid-level. Time: First half of the day. Area: Nearby colonies, Muhallas.
5- Organic Farming Business (preferably Greenhouse)
Greenhouse farming is different from the regular farming we have been witnessing in Pakistan. A greenhouse refers to a space where certain conditions of temperature and humidity are specified for certain plants to grow faster and better. Organic farming is where all plants and fruits are grown without using modern chemicals and Fertilizers.
This is a unique business idea in Pakistan, you are going into an untapped market.
The reason I am suggesting a greenhouse organic farming business is that the need/demand for organic food is increasing by the day. Have you heard about BioMonde? It is the biggest organic food store in France owned by a Pakistani Entrepreneur.
Similar startups are required in Pakistan as well. These stores can make a hell lot of money if you do it right. The first thing you need is a greenhouse organic farm to grow these products. Once you can create a circle of supply and demand, you can go for your own organic food store in one of Pakistan’s largest cities.
Requirements: Land, at least 5 marlas. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Mid-level. Time: First half of the day. Area: The target market could be any city near you, the bigger the better.
Business Ideas in Pakistan from 5 lakh to 10 lakh rupees
There are numerous fields wide open if you have a budget of 5 to 10 lakhs and are trying to start a business in Pakistan. All the businesses I have mentioned in the previous tab are doable within this budget as well. There are some businesses that I am going to mention for this particular scale of investment.
6- Themed cafe or coffee shop
As I promised I will be mentioning businesses that a majority of investors can start. A coffee shop or a themed cafe is one of them. We have seen hundreds of coffee shops and cafes failing within our city. Just rule them out. Try this new business model and you will find it very attractive.
i- Nobody is going to buy your coffee or cupcakes at extremely high prices if the environment is not upto the mark. You need to hire a startup interior design group to create a fantastic theme according to the city and market. Maybe, follow a trend. I saw a cafe in Islamabad following the Rikshaw art as the base theme. You might have seen these new DHABA style cafes with decorated trees, bone fire and a music band for the weekends. There is a cafe in Bahria Town Rawalpindi that has LUDDO on every table and it seems to have a lot of people hanging around in the evenings.
ii- So, the point one elaborated on the interior and some lucrative ideas that would attract consumers. Once the environment is set, then you can focus on the services, the menu, the naming convention and finally the prices. If you need related ideas and further elaboration, I am happy to assist you. Just right your query in the comments below.
Requirements: Idea for a themed cafe, service staff, a brilliant chef. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Mid-level. Time: Mostly in the evenings. Area: Untapped market or a market with a higher financial scale of customers.
7- Mug printing, T-shirt printing, Pillows and what more
Mainly the printing business. It depends on the budget and handling capacity of orders. If you have ever heard of AliExpress, you can easily order a machine that can print Mugs, Caps, T-Shirts and more. The prices of these machines start from as low as 40,000PKR and they work extremely good.
Once you have ordered the machine, the second step would be finding the stuff that you can print. You can go to the nearest wholesale markets to see unprinted T-shirts, Mugs and related products that your machine can print. Once you have the prices or the products in your range, you are then all set to launch the marketing campaign.
Did I say marketing? Oh yes! this is the most important part. No business can succeed without some sort of marketing. This business, in particular, relies on online marketing the most. You can create a facebook page or even a website and start posting some of the creations from your inventory. If you do not want to spend too much on creating these samples, just hire a graphic designer to design them first and then you can start taking orders.
You can find a good number of these websites and facebook pages that are selling printed products at phenomenal prices. All you’ll need is to compete with them in terms of price and quality.
Requirements: Printing Machine, Graphic Designer, Online presence. Education: No education required. Expertise Level: Entry level. Time: Online orders or a shop that works 10:am to 8:pm. Area: Your city to begin with.
8- Services company
This might be the best thing if you can handle sales. There are numerous options in terms of services. We know how poor most of the individual service providers in Pakistan are. Talk about smaller ones like plumbers, electricians, carpenters, home exterior like whitewash workes, etc. We can also talk about the bigger firms like software or hardware firms, tax consultants, tour and travel consultants, event managers, etc.
Let’s list the ones that are possible within the budget you have.
       i- Software Firm
As difficult as it might sound, starting a software house in Pakistan has never been so easy. If you have IT background or can manage those with IT expertise, this is one of the best businesses you can start. Here is what you need to know all about software business.
– Your first priority should be to set up an office at the lowest cost. Then decide if you are going to take orders from local markets or from the international markets. Hire a marketing team accordingly. For the local market, a team of a male and a female would do great. For international markets, a Bidding expert would be helpful.
– Once you have the sales and marketing setup complete, start hiring programmers. Hire for limited technologies first. For example, provide the web development services in the first phase. Make sure the technologies you go for are updated. I would suggest MEAN or MERN stack as these are currently high in demand.
– Do not rely on services. Start a product. It could be an online store or one of the online businesses that we discussed previously. You will need a steady income to grow in the services business.
       ii- Household Services
Talking about the business ideas in Pakistan and not mentioning these services would be an injustice. We really need professional household services company.
Every house and office needs a plumber, an electrician and probably a carpenter. What you can do is create a team of either all of these experts or just start with one of them. Make sure you have a uniform or a badge that suggest the experts are from your company.
You can keep fixed rates for different services or can fix them on an hourly basis. This way, you will be able to present yourself as a professional service provider.
Keep getting regular feedback from all of the clients you serve. Never allow your team to sabotage your business.
       iii- Tax consultancy
Tax recovery is constantly growing in Pakistan. A lot of businesses are registering themselves with the related authorities. Thus, tax consultancy firms are going to be very important in the near future. If you can tap into this market in the early days, you will be able to get the best out of it in the future.
Requirements: Experts according to the related service, an office, and a sales team. Education: A degree in the relevant field would be great. Expertise Level: Expert level. Time: Office timings 9:00am to 6:00pm. Area: Your city or an open market if you opt for Software House Business.
9- Fish Farming Business Ideas in Pakistan
Fish farming is a highly profitable business idea in Pakistan. The theme is that you grow fish in a pool/farm and once they grow up, you sell them in the markets.
In order to start this business in Pakistan, you will need a pool where you can farm. The size of this pool may depend on the budget you have. You can easily get about 1 Kanal of land in any nearby village for 1 lakh rupees. Then the expense of creating a suitable pool and managing fish could be from 2 to 4 lakh.
Here is a great idea, if you do not want to feed them yourself, you can use nightlights below the water that would attract a lot of insects into the water. The fish would be able to have a nice and fresh dinner. This way, not only that you will save some time, but also some money that you would otherwise spend on buying food from the market.
Requirements: A pool, night lights. Education: Not required. Expertise Level: Entry level. Time: manageable. Area: Nearby to your pool.
10- Beauty Salon business idea in Pakistan
We see a huge number of local beauty salons in our native cities. We see that most of them are for ladies. There are only a few classy beauty salons for men. Why not introduce a modern beauty salon and introduce some fancy hair cuts? We see these barbers in the US and EU are innovating the industry. Why not follow the footsteps and make a fortune ourselves?
You see, a salon does a lot more than just a hair cut. You can introduce multiple services (keeping quality and innovation intact) and be a brand yourself. I have seen these videos of transformation where some creepy looking people are being transformed into very attractive professionals.
You can start this business yourself and hire certified people to work under your supervision. Make sure you beat your competitors in rates and quality of services.
This may not be a unique business idea in Pakistan itself, however, introducing unique and innovative services would definitely make it highly profitable. You just have to act wisely.
Requirements: A shop or an apartment. Education: Not required. Expertise Level: Mid-level. Time: Preferably morning to evening. Area: A market with higher traffic and lower competition.
Details of more business ideas in Pakistan Coming Soon
#household goods #marketing services
Business Ideas in Pakistan from 10 lakh to 20 lakh rupees
This scale of budget suits all the businesses we discussed in the previous tabs. The following businesses I am going to share with you are the ones that are only possible if you have an investment of 5 to 10 lakh rupees. Let’s get to the point then.
11- eCommerce with Amazon FBA
We have discussed the eCommerce business previously, right? This one is different. Amazon FBA (Fulfillment by Amazon) is a facility that Amazon provides to the customers. The facility includes maintaining the inventory, delivery and customer services on behalf of the vendors.
You are not familiar with this business idea in Pakistan because of a reason. Selling online on Amazon is not possible if you are a Pakistani citizen. However, FBA allows Pakistanis to use their platform.
The process includes sending all your products to the Amazon FBA office. Your inventory and delivery will be handled by Amazon. Your orders will be served from the USA to the customers in the USA or the target country you choose.
The reason it requires a budget of about 20 lakh is that FBA is an expensive process. It requires an initial 50,000PKR for setting up a company. The fixed monthly fee that starts from 40,000PKR and then the product dispatch that could cost somewhere near 12 to 16 lakh rupees.
If you need help related to this business, write your comments below and I will send you a complete roadmap.
12- Education Sector Business
You will have to think twice if this business suits you. I have seen a hell lot of talented youngsters who can make a difference in the education sector. If you are highly qualified, talented in a special way, have vision and exposure or are familiar with some modern techniques of teaching. You should start a business in the education sector. This is one of the safest business ideas in Pakistan.
Let me enlist the types and kinds of business ideas in the education sector.
i- Start a school. Not an ordinary one, present something special. Either hire someone with experience or do the research of modern-day schooling yourself. I have a bunch of friends with their kids who are schooled in Dubai. These schools were run by Indian administrators. Enmity aside, I was fairly impressed by the methods they used to teach their kids. These kids from class 5 were way sharper and knowledgeable than our FSs students. If you need further details about this business, just write in the comments and I will guide you.
ii- If not a school, you can start an academy. I am not talking about a regular FSs or CSS academy. These academies are already there in the market and most of them are not producing any results either. I am talking about something different. An academy that teaches skills. The skills that lead to a job in the market. This could be a better and more practical version of Digiskills. I am not against this academy or similar ones. But I will be honest, they are not teaching the kids anything. Most kids from these academies are as blank as those without their certificates.
iii- Your budget is not enough to start a university. It is, however, enough to start a technical institute. Unlike an academy, an institute could be affiliated with a university. This adds authenticity to your business. Start low and slow, start providing courses that get your students jobs. Focus on practical work and invest on the labs. You can beat Pakistan’s top institutes if you have the right approach. It would not be much difficult as the state of affairs in current institutes are messy.
13- Ridehaling with Uber or Careem
This is the business if you want to play safe and get a steady income of around 1 lack plus. Your budget of about 20 lacs is enough to enroll around 5 Mini cars or about 3 Go category cars in Careem or in Uber. One car would save an average of around 40 thousand PKR for you. This amount I mentioned is the actual profit that you get after paying your driver/captain and paying for the rest of the taxes, fuel and maintenance.
The hazards in this business are that these ride-hailing companies are available only in the major cities, though Careem has expanded to smaller cities as well but there is a chance that your city does not have this service. In this case, you have two options. Either move into another city or start a ride-hailing service of your own. If you have a small town or a small city, you can get things working pretty quickly. If you need help and guidance in starting your own ride-hailing business in Pakistan (a particular city) then you can write your email or contact in the comments below. I will recommend some of the experts in this field.
14- Stock Exchange Business
If you are thinking that the complexity of businesses is increasing with the budget. You are actually right. There is no point in investing 30 lacs for a homemade food delivery business. If you have more, you need to do more to start a business. Since this budget is enough to hire professionals, you do not need to worry about the skills.
The stock exchange might be an alien concept for many. Very few people tend to invest in the stock market and the major reason is that they do not understand this business.
If you are one of those who do not understand, you do not have to ignore this idea. There are agents that can invest on your behalf and can take care of the profits as well. All you would have to do is establish some PR and goodwill in the stock exchange and find someone who is good at investing.
Read about the shares, the latest spikes, and drops in the market, the parameters that affect the stock market and so on. This is just so you can find the right agent to invest your amount for you. If you go to the agents without basic knowledge, you might not get the profits you expected.
The graph below shows how good the Pakistan Stock Exchange performed in the year 2019. The current government is doing all it can to stabilize the country’s economy. This might be a good time to invest in the stock market before the shares go out of proportion and you are no longer capable of buying the expensive ones.
15- News Portal with Youtube and Web
This could be a novel idea for most of the readers. If you have not been looking at these growing YouTube channels in Pakistan, you would be surprised to see how much they actually earn on YouTube.
I have worked with a few news portals and YouTube channels to know that this business works pretty well every time. We have to take the basic steps with some caution though.
The idea is to create a website and a YouTube channel. Hire some writers for the website and a reporter or two for the YouTube channel. Start writing about the local news in your city and conduct some interesting interviews for your YouTube channels.
We have seen multiple TV channels that actually started their business with a website and a YouTube channel. Have you seen Urdupoint or DailyPakistan?
This business requires an initial setup cost of about 2 to 3 lakh and then a maintenance/running cost of about 1 lakh a month. You would be able to start earning in about 3 to 6 months depending on the quality of your work.
If you are interested in this business, write your name and email in the comments below, I have some fantastic people in my circle who can help you grow.
More business ideas in Pakistan coming soon
#agriculture – growing profitable items #crypto currency exchange #Import export #garments
Business Ideas in Pakistan from 30 lakh to 50 lakh rupees
Most people with this scale of investment are looking for something safe yet innovative. I can understand the feeling and can tell you that most innovative businesses are not safe. You have to hit and try as long as you tie the right knot.
15- Animation Studio
This is a billion-dollar business idea if you get it right. Have you watched cartoons in your childhood? What’s your favorite character? Tom, Sigma, Doremon, Motu Patlu, Commander SafeGuard, Super Man and a lot of these characters stormed the internet. If you can create an interesting character, send in some interesting videos to the internet using YouTube, you could be making millions in the first few months.
Animation studio creates animated movies or short clips. You do not have to create a complete movie in the first go. You need to work on a character first and then start creating short clips for YouTube.
An idea for such clips could be taken from any inspirational character from your childhood. Have you read “Imran Series“? It has enough content that could be highly additive for any age group. What about “Umro Ayar“? You will find dozens of these characters that most of us loved in our childhood. Millions of people would love to watch these stories online.
Perhaps, this would be a favor for the country as well. Promoting our culture and cultural characters will not only bring you a lot of respect, but you will also be rich very quickly.
If you are thinking about why you need about 5 million for this business. Just read the requirements below.
Requirements: At least 4 high tech desktop PCs that can process these heavy animations. A content writer, a director, and animation experts. Education: If you have the amount, you can find the experts. Basic education is enough. Expertise Level: Managerial skills and expertise required. Time: Any office hours that suit you and your employees. Area: Pakistan in the first phase, global in the second phase.
16- Model Institute in Parallel with Services Company
Oh boy! Do you have about 5 million rupees? Skip everything and start this business in Pakistan. This is by far the most profitable business idea in Pakistan if you like working offline.
Let’s focus on the steps and the core idea here.
i- Establish an institute on modern grounds and teach students the technical skills that would get them a job
ii- Hire local experts who can teach them the practical side of these courses
iii- Run a services company in parallel, use your own trained students to work for you on a commission basis or on a salary.
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juistheseminarian · 5 years
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Eccentric, part 1: (gasp) a child!
You can tell I take myself seriously as a writer since I was originally planning on making this a stand-up-sounding twitter thread, doing my usual best turning the topic into a trendy depression meme while telling anyone who’d listen that I’ve decided to write “real articles” since I “can’t find a job in my field” (I’ve totally looked). So this is me taking a step. I get the tingling feeling it might sound exactly as it would have anyway, except this time i’m gonna have to pry readers from one platform they spend their time on to another that’s about real reading, and somehow this distance is a real marathon to close. I know because I don’t read, and i do run. I expect little and I hope for even less. 
Writing “for real”, as opposed to waxing my usual poetics, has been a terror of mine, along with praying mantises, stick insects and john mulaney’s wife, in a good way. It’s been my plan A as well as my every other plan for as long as I can remember, which is an excellent reason to stay away from it since nothing else could possibly keep it from failing. It’s almost like I didn’t believe in hard work, which is ironic for a person who spent hours a day playing over two-measures loops of music so I’d learn guitar solos for a man. Where’s the reward here? Non-gendered consideration? Give me a break. 
I’ve been told in school that a writer’s first work is oftentimes autobiographical, in reaction to which I thought it would be a funny idea to even try to write about anything else (who could possibly?). That was before I tried viewing it through the lens of standpoint theory and claiming the relevance of my situated point of view as if we needed another white girl to cry about the upper middle class experience. Now don’t get your hopes up, I’m still gonna do it, but I’ll do my best to keep some perspective. There are more important pieces to be written and more important voices to be heard and I’ll never replace them or try to; what I want to do is use the language I’ve had the privilege to develop, and acknowledge my main skill as an opportunity to challenge what needs to be challenged at my own scale. 
Now that I’ve proceeded to justify myself because clearly you had asked, and have realized I’m going to have to find another way to introduce myself than to offer my guests a cup of insecuritea (get it?), let’s move on - I’ve been meaning to talk about, well, me, you got me there - no but really, about my journey trying to put words on my mental health. Tl;dr: I haven’t yet. I’m starting to think the final boss of this game is financial independence so I’ll probably shelf it and go back to super hexagon for a decade or two. What could go wrong. 
It all started when i was still going to school in rollerskates and wearing orange tights to show how I had just discovered the sex pistols - in fact, it started long before, as the nice ladies at daycare told my parents that maybe I was a little more than just shy. The year after that, I was pulled out of school for being unable to stay in class during storytime: I had taken to crying uncontrollably and panicking into a near catatonic state at the thought of the old crone in charge reading fairy tales. I got sick in the morning. I was taken home and it fortunately coincided with my family moving to another village, where I started class the next year and appeared normal, if a little keen on the self-pity. My teacher suspected I was bored, but shit happens, and it didn’t show. I didn’t show.
I never showed. Later on I tried to show and disappear all at once, which was, you’ll see, a little suboptimal, but you do what you can, right. I went from year to year in constant fear and numbness, threats surrounding me in the classrooms, hallways, home, people. I felt injustice and it made me puke, and all that mattered was not being seen, not being seen for this reason at least. To everyone’s surprise, including mine, I had numerous friends, which made the loneliness thing all the more age-typical. Girl-typical. Good grades for a good girl, we never hear her. Now she’s too confident, we hear too much of her. Oh I too was bad at maths! You’re good at languages, where did you learn this? Why do you know that? Why do you talk like this? Look at her, she was ready to cry! We got you! 
Most of what I remember from school is the shame and inadequateness of feeling. I had a few questions: why was I obsessed with sex, how would boys like me, why did it feel better talking to adults even though I was ashamed to do so. At home, I was shamed for masturbating and at school I was just ashamed without anyone needing to make me that way. I don’t know where the trauma was, so don’t ask, okay? I know it’s gotta be in there but how can I tell what’s real and what’s a memory this abusive therapist planted for the sake of being right? 
My body felt like a traitor, always horny and always heavy and always numb. The swimming pool was a nightmare. My femininity was nowhere to be found. The delicate, cheerful way the others sang and hopped around made me grow old, I found myself revoltingly fat, I found my hair too short, and why didn’t I know how to dance? Why were people telling me I was so honest when all I did was be ashamed? Something wasn’t working out for me, and I was crying often. As soon as I pictured myself skipping and singing i couldn’t hold back my tears. I invoked this image of me as what I figured would be a normal little girl, and I felt a thousand years old, an antediluvian tree, its movements blocked and its curves absent. 
The body did things and I hid them. Through puberty i felt like an impure, sexless organism, like secondary sex characteristics implanted on a shape, a bunch of pubes on a round mistake. I didn’t know what makeup was for and my friend group had common enemies: lingerie, sluts, girly girls, because they could not be smart, they wore thongs and smoked and thereby lost the war of clever versus hot. Somewhere along the line we admitted to masturbating and that was the breakthrough, that’s that on that, and one day a girl choked another during recess. Around this time fat became an issue and everyone knew before I did, because it was normal and I overplayed normal. The limits were, and are, invisible to me.
The old school ended without a diagnosis, and I feared for my life since some older kids made a hobby out of telling us we were gonna get beat up as soon as we’d have set foot in the new school. I was scared, normal scared at first, and I shared the scared, which was something I thought I could get used to (unfortunately I did, and then it went away). I moved on and at first it all seemed to have worked out, I had kept some old friends around and even made new ones, I had a boyfriend for one month and we held hands before I told him I was a vampire (I had read a book by Anne Rice) and he no longer wanted to speak to me. I didn’t particularly mind. I found another (I didn’t want him and we tried to fit him inside me; it didn’t even feel like it would ever be a physiological possibility, he was a gentle friend, I was not receptive). I found another (it worked out and we dated for five years. I did manage to fit him inside me, and to this day i’m not certain I should have). Fat had become an issue. 
For the first year it didn’t show - well, not alarmingly so. I studied how to girl and promptly found out that caring about the body seemed an effective shortcut, and I did, very much. I was nerves and erogenous shame, a piglet in human cast, and anything that touched me sent thunderbolts of frustration through my entire bedroom; anyone that talked to me was taking me by surprise and met with confused torrents of whatever had to come out that day. At this point we called the food thing “being careful”: you didn’t want to gain weight so you were “being careful”, salad instead of a main course, no ice cream, careful. Look in the mirror, have you been careful enough? I have a very clear image of walking in on my mother weighing herself and telling me “you see, the biggest worry for moms is to have a flat tummy”. She denied it ever happened. Truth is, the last time she said it was three days ago. 
Then came the warnings and I had already learned to take them as compliments. Everytime someone told me I was eating too little, I was gaining points. I was about to graduate. I was about to evolve like a training pokémon; warnings were congratulations and fear was validating me as a fragile young girl, finally, finally, no longer a slug. You could say it was progressive, and throughout the whole thing I was taken care of, yet I slipped through everyone’s fingers because I had lost twelve kilos and weighed a remaining 36 (that’s 79 pounds). 
My grandmother was afraid of my hands and my body was drying out, dehydrating, too weak to menstruate or feel. During this time I have never fainted, but have pretended to numerous times. I still wasn’t the center of the world, so I considered it a failure. My mother’s friends said I needed to gain weight for men to love me, my mother said I needed to eat or people would keep staring, and everytime I bought diet coke my boyfriend gave me the look you give to a relapsing junkie, because it was the case. All other possibilities had been eliminated, by me. 
The abusive therapist was there all along, but then she was okay still. I saw her all the time, did all sorts of talking and then I saw a doctor and she measured my heart and threatened me with a hospital stay so I cleaned up my act. I was admitted once, in a special unit for teenagers, and it was a nightmare. The others were real and a girl lived there long term because her mother threw chairs in her face (she was the first one to come and introduce herself to me, smiling, complimenting my clothes, kind). One had lost her father and one didn’t like spinach. Before I could spend the night I had caved in and my parents collected me, and I collected the phone they thought was the problem. ED treatments: isolation won’t do shit, trust us. We get better because everyone else is less cruel than you were, and don’t say that’s the point. You lasted one hour before telling me my skirt was too short. 
At one point I told the abusive therapist I was going to get better, and I did. It had lasted about a year and the doctor said it hadn’t been real anorexia or I would have had it worse, and I thought, the nerve on this person that jumped on the occasion to invalidate me as soon as I ate one bite. Don’t you dare take the words from my experience, don’t be ridiculous, I’ve already claimed the words - I do realize how lucky I was, others died, I didn’t, but I was very ill indeed, your ego be damned. I was very ill, I was offered fashion advice and condescension and suggestions that I should stop or men wouldn’t look at me, and I was not medicated and I had my asshole pumped full of water because it had dried shut. My heart sounded like a ruffled biscuit wrapper and my first year of high school was a made-up arrangement for me to not completely float away: I would come to some classes for the sole purpose of keeping myself afloat and would repeat the year no matter what. I think this kept me alive. 
My first days of high school i was a mummy. I had taken to rubbing the skin off of my arms with a pumice stone until they oozed with pus and burned constantly, I wore bandages from my wrists to under my t-shirt sleeves, I don’t know how my legs supported me, I don’t know how anyone did. I had picked a special high school where half my classes would be in english but I’d know nobody: I lasted two days and was transferred to my local school, and there I appeared sporadically in french class, bonding with the delightful old man who gave it and thought my writing was “images”. He said I should do contests but maybe I wouldn’t win because “the best ones often don’t”.
I repeated the class and fell in love with the next french teacher, a gentle woman who taught us about the middle ages. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, mysterious, a woman but not just a mother, she didn’t know what to do with my writing and I’m ever so sorry she had to fence off the embarrassment and try to be a good role model. Lucky for me, she really wasn’t. 
Ultimately I got better. But I gotta say: my style during this era was off the charts. I looked amazing, I copied Amanda Palmer and my boyfriend and the mad hatter and David Bowie, I once went to high school with a suit and converse because of David Tennant, and I cut my own hair with kitchen scissors. My then-boyfriend painted my t-shirts with foetuses and whatever else we found extremely shocking. We said we’d lose our virginity to raw power by Iggy Pop (did we?) and his mother said she was afraid I would mentally screw her stable, balanced son whose anger issues had him slap me a bunch of times - I would have slapped me too, I said then, and almost stand by it. Years later he phoned me saying he was in therapy and he was sorry and it wasn’t my only fault; I don’t think i hold grudges and I’m glad others don’t either. My mother, however, does. Beyond unrealistic. Must be exhausting. 
If I had to describe what anorexia felt like, i’d say it felt like depression but floating, like compulsive obsessing over fashion because I felt I was allowed to now that I was thin; like the most hopeless cul-de-sac with no way out except the one you came from, a well full of serpents like you’re Ragnar Lothbrok and the british are laughing at you from the surface. You float yet sink and you have to claw your way up but your nails are like chalk, you know, from the not eating bit. The anxiety makes every day feel like a year of waiting in terror, and you don’t know why it came and you don’t know why it ends, and sometimes it doesn’t. 
...
I’ll have to return to the abusive therapist topic, which is why this is part one of a series on my experience of mental health issues. This isn’t meant as a self indulgent victimization (although it is self indulgent, I mean what the hell, i’m not catholic) though I don’t think it requires further justification, either. I don’t know what will come out of this once I said everything I had to say on the matter, but for now i’m angry about things, and I feel we need to do better. 
I was in the best possible conditions and my treatment still sucked, and I still spent the last fifteen years of my life in pain because health professionals can’t have an empirical, science-based approach for shit. I’m not exaggerating when I say I was a ping pong ball in a match doctors played with their dicks. Gender informed how easily my anorexia was diagnosed whereas countless young men still suffer in silence; it also informed how patronizing people would sound and how “efforts” were suggested as medication for my disorders. How pleasing men was supposed to be reason enough for me to eat my own illness. How my ‘’giftedness’’ was not investigated and neither was my ADHD because female-coded symptoms are overlooked. I’m pissed off, I’m qualified to be, and you’ll hear more of me. 
-Ju 
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myaekingheart · 5 years
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38. Hanakotoba
read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3
index | from the beginning | < previous | next >
               A strong afternoon sunlight poured into Rei’s tiny apartment and the plants on the windowsill soaked up every ounce of it. Smiling softly, she approached them with a little spray bottle of water and checked the moisture in the soil. Pasted to toothpicks stuck in each was a little card displaying a name. She ran her fingers across their supple leaves and felt the existence of everyone she ever cared about coursing through her.
               Kakashi should be back soon, she thought to herself. He had been so busy lately, constantly rushing off with his little team of genin to fulfill missions. It was kind of heartwarming seeing him like this, even if it was technically glorified babysitting. But perhaps these children were doing what she never could. Perhaps they were truly the key to thawing Kakashi’s dark, cold heart.
               The downside to the arrangement, however, was the danger. Logically, she understood that every ANBU mission was S-class but at least there, everyone could take care of themselves. Work together, but don’t think twice about leaving behind someone who can’t keep up. As a jonin leader, however, Kakashi was responsible not only for himself for his team of inexperienced little genin, as well. Anything could happen, and with how frequently they had been given assignments, her greatest fear was that one day he may not return home.
               Sighing, Rei scanned the names and corresponding species scribbled onto each card. She had flowers associated with nearly everyone, except Kakashi. The question of forming that kind of bond had tickled the back of her throat for ages, but she never had the guts to actually ask. But things were different now. They no longer saw each other constantly. Clenching her fists at her side, she then made a firm decision. It was time.
                Per usual, Kakashi stopped by Rei’s apartment as soon as he returned to the village. Rei swung the door open and tugged him inside quickly. The copy ninja cocked a brow. “Is everything okay?”
               Rei nodded definitively. “Everything is fine, but we need to talk about something.” Oh no. An icy feeling slid down Kakashi’s spine.
               “Whatever it is I’ve done, I’ll make up for it, I promise” he said quickly. The redhead cocked an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. Kakashi’s eyes widened. “W-what did I do wrong?”
               “Nothing!” Rei said through her laughter. “Oh no, Kakashi, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry if I spooked you and made you think otherwise!” Once she had calmed down, she sucked in a deep breath and then said, “There’s just something I really want us to do. It’s something important to me.”
               Taking her hands in his, Rei guided Kakashi toward her windowsill. She smiled down at the plants, gently caressing the petals of a pink carnation. Of course Kakashi had noticed her little indoor garden before, but now there was a heavy sense of meaning hanging over everything that piqued his curiosity. He noticed the names of friends and family etched onto cards in the soil, the way she cared for each plant with a tenderness she did not often display.
               “When I was a kid” she then started, “Grandma Teiko taught me something. She told me about this ability we had, that we could tether chakra to an inanimate object and let it sit there inside of the thing so that we could track our way back home on missions. Or…well, in my case, check in on those I care about from afar.” This all sounded vaguely familiar, tucked away in a hazy corner back somewhere deep in Kakashi’s mind. Maybe heh ad heard this all once from Teiko herself, or maybe it was just déjà vu. He already had a basic understanding of the Natsuki clan’s abilities, their bizarre sense of chakra control unrivalled by even the Sarutobi clan, but something like this was new. As such, he still tried to wrap his brain around it. Rei brushed her bangs back out of her face then and added, “I have flowers tethered to everyone’s chakra so far…except yours.”
               Kakashi blinked. “So you want me to tether my chakra to one of your plants?”
               Rei nodded minutely, unable to look him in the eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s kind of stupid, really, I don’t know, I guess I just—”
               “Rei” Kakashi interrupted. “It’s fine. I don’t think it’s stupid at all. I’d love to do this for you.”
               Turning back to her boyfriend, a small smile tugged on Rei’s lips then before wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. She may not have had the mental organization to explain why this was so important, but perhaps Kakashi already knew. After all, that sharingan of his was capable of seeing through people. Perhaps it filled in the blanks of her unspoken words.
               There was a certain ritual to all of this and Rei was very stubborn about sticking to it. Kakashi had to admit, her determination and vigor was kind of cute. He followed close behin her as they walked to the edge of the village, listening as she explained the significance of doing things just right. “The first step is finding the right flower. It needs to be representative of who you are, and it needs to be picked. Not bought.”
               Kakashi deliberated for a moment. What kind of flower represented him? He had never thought about it before. Not that he spent copious amounts of time thinking about flowers in the first place. “Well, what do you suggest? After all, this is your project and—”
               Rei shot him a harsh glare. “This is not my project, it’s our project” she corrected. “I don’t want you thinking this is some one-way street. This is a promise that we will always look out for each other and keep one another in our thoughts even when we’re miles apart. So this is just as much your project as it is mine.”
               She was so serious about this, Kakashi couldn’t help but fight a smile. He raised his hands in surrender and apologized, adding, “Well, then I guess I should be looking for a flower for you, too.”
               “Wait, what?” Rei paused. She turned slowly back to face him. Of all the times she had done this, no one had ever asked for a flower for her chakra. She wanted to make sure she was hearing him right.
               “If this is something meant for both of us” Kakashi started, “Then why shouldn’t I have your chakra tethered to something, too? It would be no good for only you to be able to check on me. After all, like you said, this isn’t a one way street!” He rested a hand on the small of her back and smiled down at her through his mask.
               It took Rei a moment to fully grasp what was happening here, but she wasn’t at all against it. If anything, she was truly pleased to see Kakashi becoming so interested in this in the first place. “W-well, okay then. We’ll find a flower for me to tether my chakra to, too” she said.
               Rei guided him to a large field on the outskirts of the village overrun with a wide array of colorful flowers. “So” he asked upon their arrival, “What flower do you thin would suit me? What criteria do you use to decide?”
               She knelt down to inspect a patch of poppies near the base of a tree. “Have you ever heard of hanakotoba?” she asked. Kakashi paused, and Rei continued before he could answer. “My mother taught me about it” she continued. “It’s the study of flowers and their meanings. Every flower sends a message. If you’ve ever gone to the Yamanaka flower shop, you’ve probably heard them say something about it. I try to take everything into account when doing this sort of thing. Every flower I tether chakra to needs to be significant to the person whose chakra it’s receiving. Plants are living creatures, too, and they can pick up on what a person is like. If someone’s chakra isn’t compatible, the flower won’t take to it. Something like how every plant requires different types of care and all that good shit.”
               That seems to make sense, Kakashi thought to himself. It was strange, but it made sense. He watched her rise and wander over to another patch of flowers, then asked, “What made you want to do this, anyway?” He caught her expression change ever so slightly at the inquiry, transitioning into a solemn thoughtfulness that made him all the more curious as to what her answer may be.
               “You’ve been gone a lot, Kakashi” she replied quietly. “I know if I say this, I’m going to sound really stupid, so I should just stop now.”
               “No” he countered, inching closer. “Keep going. I want to know.”
               She sighed, then replied, “I’ve just…I’ve missed you. And sometimes I have this stupid, irrational fear that one day you may leave this village and never come back…except as a sealed corpse or something. I do’t know, I just get so scared that something bad is going to happen to you but…at least this way, I can feel you from miles away and know that no matter where you are, you’re okay.”
               Something struck Kakashi in that moment. She was doing all of this because she feared for his safety. The same reason he was so protective of her. He had admittedly always looked down upon her a bit, as if she was a child in desperate need of rescue, but he never truly stopped to think that she may feel the same way for him. A warm light hit his heart in that moment, and a smile touched his lips. He rested a hand on her upper back, kissing her forehead sweetly, and then said with his face close to hers, “I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you all this time.”
               Rei shook her head. “It’s just an occupational hazard” she whispered back. “I’m sure I worry you, too.”
               “You do” he replied, “But that’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? So we can worry a little less?”
               A soft smile touched Rei’s lips and she gave one, definitive nod. “Exactly.” Then, after a moment, her eyes widened and she added dolefully, “Well shit, now I’ve got to figure out a flower for me, too.” She had never done this sort of thing for herself before, and quite frankly didn’t consider herself the best judge of her own character but she also wasn’t sure she trusted someone else to choose for her. They didn’t have the same knowledge of hanakotoba that she did and as such, were more likely to make a mistake.
               Kakashi trudged through the sea of flowers until leaning down to pluck one from the ground. “Well, what about this one?” he asked, holding it up for Rei to see. “What does this one mean?”
               In his hand he held a yellow peony just like the one that dangled from the end of the her kanzashi. Her cheeks burned. “Bravery” Rei answered. “Peonies stand for bravery.”
               “Well, I think you’re brave” Kakashi replied, “So I choose this one.” She had to admit, she wasn’t sure if his assessment was entirely accurate but she was flattered by the presumption, at least. After a few moments, he waded toward her and asked, “What about you? Did you find one for me yet?”
               “I may have” she replied. “Though I think it’s a bit of a stretch.” She motioned for him to follow her to a small patch of colorful flowers beneath a tree, kneeling down and caressing the blue petals of a cornflower. “I think I like this one.”
               “Why is that?” he asked, crouching beside her. He tilted his head, genuinely curious.
               “They kind of remind me of you” she said. There was a lot to unpack in her reasoning, and she wasn’t sure of how much she wanted to spill. “Or maybe it’s just word association that has me thinking of you, I don’t know” she then said, swatting at the air. “I mean, your name means scarecrow, and scarecrows often guard fields of corn, and this is a cornflower…fuck, that sounds so stupid!”
               She was far too afraid to give him any substantial answers. Too afraid to tell him that cornflowers were worn by men in love, and that if the flower faded too quickly it was a sign that the love was not mutual. That the mythological context had cornflowers as a healing flower, especially with issues of the eye reminiscent of Kakashi’s sharingan and it’s origin. No, that was too much. It would prove to him that she truly had thought way too long and hard about all of this. She didn’t want him thinking she had obsessed about this, because she hadn’t. She was just thorough. Right?
               Yet again, however, Kakashi could see right through her façade. She really needn’t try to hide anything from him, because he could always sense the truth. And the truth of this was that all the thought she was putting into this was secretly turning him into a puddle of mush. He leaned down and plucked the flower out of the ground before she could deliberate further, replying kindly “Cornflowers should be just fine.”
               A distinct sense of happiness began bubbling up inside of Rei as her and Kakashi walked home together, the sun setting in the distance and flowers in hand. There was just something ethereal and perfect about the moment, the simplicity of it all. The symbolism behind why they were doing this in the first place. She almost could’ve cried thinking about it, even though that would most definitely make her a sap. But she was finally getting everything she ever wanted. The weight of that reality hung heavy over her head. She loved Kakashi, and he loved her back. They were finally together after so many years of pining and distance. She was convinced she would never love anyone else like this ever again. No one could take the place of her Kakashi.
               As they returned to her apartment that evening, the streetlights flickering outside, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered to him a soft I love you. And he whispered it right back.
               The following day, Rei raced down the street to Kakashi’s apartment hoping to catch him before his next mission. The calm of the previous night had disappeared and was now replaced with an unwavering anxiety. She was running out of time. She caught him leaving the cemetery and rushed forward to grab him firmly.
               “Rei, what’s wrong?” he asked, a sense of terror striking him. The unhinged expression on her face, her panting breath, all of it scared him the living hell out of him.
               “W-we need to go right now!” she insisted, tugging his hand. “We’re running out of time and I know you’re leaving today and we need to finish what we started because this is too important and it can’t wait but we’re running out of time to--!”
               “Rei, is that what all of this is about?” he asked, reaching out to still her. She nodded frantically. “I’m set to leave in an hour. Why can’t we just do this when I get back?”
               “No!” she shouted, breaking free of his grip. “No, we have to do this right now! It cannot wait! What if you never come back? I need to know that you’re safe! I need this, Kakashi!”
               He was hesitant to speak, and quite frankly terrified. He hadn’t seen her this desperate since they were children, when he told her to give up becoming a ninja and she broke down. The memory of it struck him hard in the chest. He sucked in a deep breath, clenching his fist, and then asked, “So what comes next?”
               Apparently, the pot in which the flower was planted was just as important as the flower itself. Rei explained the details as she dragged Kakashi to the Yamanaka flower shop, barely taking a breath between sentences. She burst inside the small store, shocking Mrs. Yamanaka behind the counter, then made a beeline straight for the display of assorted planters. She eyed each of them as if her life depended on this, her face stony with thought.
               Clearing his throat, Kakashi asked, “Do you see any that you like?”
               “Do you?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the display.
               Kakashi perused the next shelf over, considered a small, plain ceramic pot, then tucked it under his arm and replied, “This should do just fine!”
               Rei looked back at him unconvinced. “Really? You’re just going to make your decision that easily?” Kakashi shrugged. So long as it did it’s job, it didn’t really matter what it looked like, right? Besides, he thought the ceramic one was at least a nicer option than the standard clay. By the look on his girlfriend’s face, however, he was beginning to wonder if there truly was a distinct science behind this, too.
               Shaking her head, Rei walked over and picked out a different ceramic pot, slightly rounder and with flowers painted along the sides. “What about this one?” she asked. “It’s prettier, and should compliment the peony better.”
               Kakashi blinked and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well, if you insist. I just thought the plain one would be nice so it didn’t attract attention away from the flower itself.” Rei then paused at his words, glanced from one flower pot to the other, then grimaced and placed the decorated one back on the shelf grumbling. “Have you found one for yours yet?” Kakashi then asked. Rei turned back to the display, growing rather exasperated, perused her options, then snatched the decorated pot back up and made a snarky face at her boyfriend before walking off to check out.
               “So what time do you have to leave again?” she asked, walking alongside Kakashi toward her apartment. They each clutched their respective pots in their arms, careful not to hold hands for fear of running into children who knew nothing of their sensei’s personal life. They would surely come looking for him if he was to run late. Regardless, the restriction made her fingers each even more to intertwine with his, and a pang of pain struck her chest. It was desperately difficult dealing with the sense of separation building between them.
               “We’re supposed to leave at noon” Kakashi replied, looking up to the sky to check the placement of the sun. The theoretical hour glass was quickly draining. Kakashi sensed the anxiety building with Rei and smiled down at her reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We still have time to finish this.” She smiled back at him, but it was clearly forced.
               Upon returning to her apartment, Kakashi watched as his girlfriend flitted around the room with manic purpose, tugging a little bag of soil out from beneath the bed and setting the flower pots on the floor. She poured the soil into them haphazardly, desperately, spilling dirt all over the floor. Kakashi reached out to steady her, but she kept her eyes transfixed on her work, chewing her lower lip all the while. He stood slowly, then reached up to pull the flowers down from atop her dresser. It was the least he could do, especially considering their height differences.
               “It’s important to plant them with care” she instructed, then began planting the cornflower into the decorated pot.
               Kakashi took cues from her to be cautious and patient as he worked to plant the peony, and soon both flowers were ready to go. He looked at her expectantly, then asked, “So how do we tether the chakra?”
               This was arguably the most important step of all, the whole reason as to why they were doing this in the first place. Everything else simply served as the foundation. Rei nodded once, then placed each pot gently on her desk. She motioned for Kakashi to follow suit, then instructed him through the process. “First, take my hands. Channel all of your chakra to the center, where your stomach is. Breathe, and concentrate. Then, slowly guide your chakra up and into me” she said. Kakashi did as he was told, and while he was of course accustomed to infusing chakra, this was different. There was something strange and almost painful about this. The innate sense of control, the constant tugging in his stomach. It was as if his chakra knew it was going to be locked away someplace for good and was resisting. He pushed onward, however, channeling his chakra into Rei. She sucked in a deep breath, her own chakra network clearly distraught by the foreign energy entering her body—especially Kakashi’s. She remained calm and persistent in her work, however. It was clear she had been doing this for a while. Once she had enough of his chakra in her, she placed her hand upon the soil in his pot and transferred the chakra through the plant’s roots. It began to glow blue with energy, and Kakashi tightened his grip on Rei’s hands. He could feel his own chakra entering the plant, filling it up and pouring into the leaves and branches and petals. “Alright” Rei then whispered, “Now rest your hand on the soil, and I’ll confirm the link.” He did as he was told, and she placed her hand atop his and concentrated. He could feel something bind between them, the plant and himself, an inexplicable connection. It was the strangest feeling, as if he had poured part of his own awareness into something inanimate and now could feel the sense of life inside of it. As if he was both in and out of his own body. He sucked in a deep breath and looked to Rei for guidance.
               “Does it always feel this weird?” he asked.
               Rei shrugged and laughed softly. “I guess” she replied. “Why? Do you regret doing this?”
               “No” Kakashi shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve just never felt something like this before.”
               “You get used to it after a while” Rei replied. Of course. This was how she had felt every time she did this, tethering her chakra to trees and brush during missions. Her kekkei genkai. Spying from within nature. Despite how bizarre it felt, he couldn’t help but smile then at the thought of it. He could even say he felt closer to her by experiencing this feeling firsthand. He liked knowing what it felt like to be her. “What about yours? Don’t you have to do the same?” he asked.
               Rei nodded. “It’s much easier to tether my own chakra” she replied, going through the motions on herself. “Because I know exactly what I’m doing, and don’t have to channel any third party chakra through myself” she continued, speaking while she worked. It was incredible how effortlessly she was doing this on her own, and for a moment Kakashi felt like a bit of a burden on her seeing the difference. Once she was finished, however, she smiled at him and handed him the peony in its pot. “You’re all prepared. Now you can always know if I’m okay no matter where you are.”
               Kakashi tookt the pot with great care and smiled. To think that something so simple would be so meaningful. He thanked her, and then they stood in silence for a moment more before he looked to the clock and sighed. “I should get going…I’m sure the kids would be really pissed if I was late again.”
               “Yeah…” Rei replied, averting her eyes. “We wouldn’t want that.”
               “Are you okay?” he asked. He wanted to reach out, to cup her cheek in his hand, but he resisted for fear of dropping the pot and ruining their work should he remove a hand from it. Rei nodded slowly, but he wasn’t convinced. “What is it?”
               “I just…I guess I just miss you, is all…” she said. “We’ve been apart a lot lately. I know this helps”—here, she motioned to the plants—“but still, I wish you were here with me. I wish there wasn’t this…this wall between us.”
               “A wall?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
               “You know” she said, looking at him, but truly he didn’t. When she understood that he wasn’t playing dumb, she elaborated tiredly. “We’re in two completely different leagues now. We don’t even live in the same building anymore. We hardly ever see each other, and you don’t want anyone to know we’re even together. It just feels like there’s so much distance between us, I don’t know. I feel like a separate part of your life now…”
               “Rei” Kakashi replied, voice cracking. His heart ached at her words. He never wanted to hurt her. “You know how dangerous our careers are, I just want to keep you safe. The kids don’t need to know anything about my personal life, just like no one outside of the ANBU needed to.”
               “We’ve been together for two years, Kakashi” she said, slowly turning away from him. She ran her fingers across the petals of the cornflower and sighed. “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible…but I’m scared. I need to know if you’re serious about this. I don’t want to be some secret hidden away for the rest of your life. I don’t want to pretend like we’re just friends in the streets, I don’t want to pretend like I don’t know you in front of your team. I just…want to be a part of your life. A part that you’re not afraid to share.”
               Kakashi sighed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry” was the first thing he said. He truly didn’t intend to make her feel this way. “I will introduce you to the kids, but I need to wait for the right time. It’s a…delicate subject. It needs to be handled carefully. I’m not ashamed to be with you, though, if that’s what you think. That’s not the case at all. I just want to keep you safe. That’s all I ever wanted.”
               Rei gripped the edge of the desk, her voice hoarse. “I just wish being protected didn’t mean feeling like a bird locked in a cage.”
               As he placed the peony on the shelf above his bed, Kakashi had a lot of things to think about. He tried not to consider the future, as much as he tried not to consider the past, but he knew deep down he desperately did want to spend the rest of his life with Rei. He had already lost her once, he refused to let it happen again. He refused to make the same mistakes, but he also refused to break the same promises. All he ever wanted was to protect her. Sighing, he slipped his jonin vest on and then his shoes, then walked out the door.
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disaster-aster · 7 years
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The beginning - Part 3
J a c k  W o u l d  H a v e     K n o w n 
One thing I really wanted was to see adventurers and I knew exactly where to go in order to watch them. The only problem was that I didn’t know how to find the place where I needed to go… for some reason taverns and inns all look like houses and shops. At least make an effort not to build everything the same! I had to search through many villages along the shore, feeling more impatient and irritated that I didn’t find what I was looking for and Jibbs was not helping at all. She was reluctant to fly most of the time and preferred hopping on the grass and taking way too many naps a day for way too long. She was driving me crazy and I was doing the same to her, forced as I was to steal her pebble if I wanted her large feathery butt to go anywhere. You’d think sleeping from sunset to sunrise would have been enough, but no. I think I understand now why Siisa and Moltai were so angry at me when I ran away from my daily chores. Someone who refuses to do what you want them to when it’s important that they do it is infuriating.
 So as I was saying, following weeks of walking more than flying (my feet were oh so sore) I finally learned that the difference between common housing and shops were in their sign. Unlike the shops, houses have small letters on the mailbox or the fence to know which is which (except for the ones that do have big signs and I was very confused then). After making my way into more than a few wrong places, finally I found an inn which I entered through a small hole in the gutter. Jibbs was too large to fit and waited outside. Which was fortunate because the hole gave right into the kitchen, of all things. It was perfect for me, with plenty of places to hide. The door to the dining room was cut in half, too, so it was easy to fly there when nobody was looking.
 I don’t understand though what use there is for only half a door.
 It took many days, and at some point I stopped counting, before an adventurer walked in. I still remember. He had hair the colour of wheat and he carried with him the smell of sea salt. His clothes were dripping with water, too, but it was not raining. He was talking a lot, and laughing a lot, but what struck me the most was the color of his eyes. I had never seen a human with eyes of gold and I still haven’t seen another one of those afterwards. I heard him say he was waiting for his crew, and he stayed a few days. Every evening he sat with what I can only guess were strangers to him, and he talked with them for hours. I loved listening to his adventures, and I’d always find a spot to sit as near to him as possible. The ceiling beams were very useful to run across the whole dining area. He, too, seemed to be one of those people who ate maps for breakfast; he sounded like he knew the whole world like the back of his hand. Oh, and he had a bird too. A ginormous white pelican who sometimes stuck its head through the dining room’s window looking for him. It took two or three men to push his large, dumb looking face out of the inn and the adventurer kept saying the bird was not with him but clearly, it was. It followed him everywhere whenever he went looking for his crew (I watched them from where I sat on the rooftops with Jibbs). I didn’t know there were pelicans big enough for a human to sit on their back.
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 He told stories better than Jack, like he was born to do that and I decided I’d tell stories better than him. Sadly, his crew joined him the next week and he left with them the day after. I never saw him again. Maybe the pelican ate him…
 That very same night, a group of young men with a similar gait came into the inn.
 I couldn’t help but to wonder what was hidden in their hip bags. They were much bigger than what I had seen on any other people I watched. Maybe they were what they call nobles, I thought. Maybe they were rich. They carried weapons with them and what better need would there be than to protect their goods? Luck was on my side: they put silver coins on the counter and asked to stay for the night. I followed them across the dining room, sticking near the ceiling. In the hallway I was in the open but humans rarely pay attention to what is above their eye level. I took a chance. The door closed right in front of me.
 “Owl farts!” I cussed and I think they heard me because the door opened immediately and they nearly caught sight of me. The head that popped out of the room looked right and left. When they closed the door again, I approached to eavesdrop. They sounded excited about something. I just had to see what it was about.
 I waited for the innkeeper to announce mealtime. In the evening, there often was one or two musicians trading a few drops of ale and a plate of whatever food was left for entertainment. That should give me all the time I wanted in the nobles’ room to look through their things and satisfy my curiosity. They would stuff their faces with strange fish and drink themselves under the table while I’d do what I do best.
 Crawling under the door was in itself quite the adventure. Old wood tend to make splinters and those splinters snagged my clothes. I had to be more careful than I had ever been so not to hurt myself. You know how mice and rats squish themselves to fit in tight spaces? Yeah well fairies can’t do that. Once or twice I thought I would never see the end of it, especially when large splinters tugged at my shirt and pants at the same time.
 ‘At this rate, once I get out from under here I’ll be naked.’ Is what I thought.
 On the other side, surprisingly with all my clothes still on, the floor was littered with weapons of all sizes, smelly wet socks and leather coats. I avoided the socks and walked on the coats alongside a well-worn lance. One of them had so many pockets inside and out I stopped counting after the tenth one. Just how many spaces did a noble need to put things in? Besides, some of those things could have easily been left back home. Like those round shiny iron beads and what I thought was a bizarre kind of pepper. The money I understood was necessary to keep, though I didn’t get why they had to divide it into so many pockets. Same about the armfuls of white pearls I found. There were a few papers as well, on which something was written but I couldn’t read it. I did however understand the numbers at the end of each line (numbers may be the only thing we have in common). I thought at first it might be for keeping track of what they owned and they had to be rich, because those were big numbers. They possessed many things in many exemplars.
 I know what you’re thinking: I was completely wrong about this.
 They were as far from what I understood was a noble as could be. But I heard from Jack about nobles before, you know. Nobles, they fancy nice clothes, colours and point lace but he also told me they sometimes wore simpler clothes that blend in the masses. So it’s only when I found holes on all of their coats that I thought… a noble would have bought a new one, yes? That’s when I realized for myself that they were thieves. Because they were still rich. See, the adventurer I had seen the days before was not carrying anything more than a bottle of ink, a moleskin notebook and a handful of money in his sash. Adventurers are poor by definition.
 “My very first encounter with thieves!” I smiled, remembering more of comrade’s stories and playing with a huge diamond ring that would easily fit on my head like a crown. In the same pocket I had found a jewel necklace large enough for me to wear like a dress. Leaving these two treasures behind, my interest quickly switched to something that was left on the nightstand. A little round contraption that started moving as soon as I touched it. I thought it was metal at first, but it bended and danced and morphed and when it stopped, I heard a voice inside my head.
 Clean.
 “What, you want me to polish you or something?” I asked dumbfounded. I had heard about artifacts but I didn’t know they could speak to you like they were people. The object started moving again, even faster than it was before. If it wanted to be cleaned, it would have to stop doing that. I searched around for something to rub it with and came back with a pure white satin glove.
 Cursed.
 The door opened and I jumped in surprise, dropped the glove and knocked the object off the nightstand. I didn’t hear it land: the thieves, back way sooner than I expected, expressed their shock in a loud and unanimous voice. As I told you before, humans don’t like the fairies. It’s out of fear, according to Jack, and they either run or fight. I tried to make them run. The magic object I was playing with the moment before had given me an idea.
 “I will curse you!” I aimed to look as menacing as possible and stretched my wings wide, trying to get a ray of sun to shine on them. It normally makes a predator think twice before approaching.
“Tough luck, I’m already cursed! If anything ya gonna make it better!”
 One more bad idea to add to the list of all the bad ideas I ever had before. Like that time when I fed an injured blueberry kiwi bird a handful of fresh peppers… You know how they already burst if they so little as catch the rising sun before reaching their nest? Imagine feeding them something hot. It took me two days to dig my way out of its blasted hole and it took it three weeks to grow back its feathers and its beak.
 Back to the story: The thief who answered to my threats, the cursed one, walked in first. He was shorter than his friends and he looked cleaner as well. He didn’t seem cursed at all, from the outside. For a human, he looked good. Or maybe I just like red heads no matter the species… The three others followed and closed the door behind them before I could do anything to get out. They cracked their fingers. I did the same.
 Cursed.
 “So what’s it gonna be? A twenty feet long beard? Or maybe a biting plant in your pants? I can also call a thousand crows on your sorry heads and you’ll never hear the end of it.” My threats still didn’t look like they gave them anything to worry for. Where was the ‘humans are afraid of fairies’ I heard so much about?
 Were they really scared of me, they wouldn’t have tried to catch me like an insect. I flew up and stuck to the ceiling, trying to remain out of reach, but it was too low to give me safety. They trapped me like a bird, except that they traded the net for a coat and I dropped to the floor like a rock. Swift, I crawled under the heavy leather, fingers crossed that they wouldn’t step on me with their big stupid feet and hoping to find refuge under the beds. The small man grabbed me by the waist the moment I popped out from under the coat. I bit him and tried for the window: it was locked. I spun on my feet to face the thieves, backing against the cold glass and I raised both hands like I was about to do a complicated magic trick.
 We don’t even need to do that for the magic to work but I thought it worked well to intimidate someone. Except it didn’t.
 “Enough! I am done playing with you!” I should have asked Jack what threats he came up with to get rid of people like them.
 Cursed.
 “Who’s playing with who? I believe, my sweet little lady, that you are the toy here.”
“And we been bored long enough trying to find a bloody cure to the boss’s curse,” smiled the tallest of them three putting the magic trinket back on the nightstand “that we might as well have a bit of fun wit’cha.”
 He had a thin pointy face and small, mean eyes. If he wasn’t afraid of me, I on the other hand was very much afraid of him. His clothes made him look even longer than he really was. Like a tower. A pointy, mean looking tower.
 “Don’t meet a damn fairy every day, after all.”
“And see, the thing with fairies like you…” I heard the small man’s voice right behind me as I ran along the window ledge “… is that you are quite fragile.”
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dextronoms · 7 years
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Shae (@fateful-wings ) & Emmelia (mine!) supports!
C Support
Shae: Ah… okay, I think this is the right person. U-um excuse me, are you Emmelia by chance?
Emmelia: … Hm? Oh, yes, I am! You’re… Shae, right? What can I help you with? *smiles*
Shae: U-um, was it your bow that went missing from the armory recently? There aren’t too many who use one all the time so I’ve been asking around to make sure.
Emmelia: Oh! Yes! I’ve been looking everywhere for it! I leave it in the armory one time by mistake and it goes missing… what bad luck, huh? *chuckles*
Emmelia: Did you happen to find it? It has woven patterns carved in it, so it’s pretty easy to tell if it’s mine.
Shae: Oh dear. Well, the thing with your bow… Um, it didn’t so much go missing as much as I had taken it by accident.
Shae: I’m really sorry about taking it! It’s just there was going to be a battle soon and I didn’t have mine on hand! Yours just happened to be the first one I grabbed before we left…
Emmelia: Ah, don’t worry about it! When you’re in a rush, you gotta grab what you can! No harm, no foul. I’m just excited to get it back, the one I have been using in its place just doesn’t feel the same.
Shae: Y-yeah? Oh no… um well, I really can’t give you back the original one. I was caught off-guard by one of the enemy troops and they damaged it pretty badly. I’m so sorry if it was important to you, I didn’t mean to break it!
Emmelia: … Oh. That’s. A little sad. I mean, I’m glad you are alright because my bow isn’t a living person… this might sound weird, but did you happen to bring the pieces back with you?
Shae: Huh? O-oh yes, they’re just not on me at the moment. I tried to salvage what I could and have them with some of my other things right now. I can go get them, but first I wanted to give you this.
Shae: I felt really bad for breaking your bow so after everything was settled back down, I made a trip to a person I worked for that’s pretty good at making them to see if there was anything that could be done to fix it. There wasn’t, so I asked if he could make one that was like it.
Emmelia: Really? I really appreciate that, but you didn’t have to go and do that! Accidents happen and I’m just glad it served you well while you had it. I’m a little sad for personal reasons, but a bow is a bow.
Emmelia: I won’t say no to a new bow though, how much do I owe your friend for it?
Shae: Don’t worry about payment, I already took care of that. This is more of an apology gift, so you don’t owe anything for it. I know it can’t replace the other one, but I hope it’ll be an alright one for you to use.
Shae: Oh right! Do you want me to get your other bow now?
Emmelia: Are you sure? I do really appreciate it… the bow I’ve been using is a spare so it’s all kinds of wonky.
Emmelia: Oh, if you have the time to grab it for me. I want to see if I can salvage some of the wood… maybe turn it into something else. It’s been through a lot with me, so I’d like to keep it in some way.
Shae: I can understand that feeling. Alright, I’ll go get it for you right now, just wait right here a minute.
B Support
Emmelia: Ughhh, how did I manage to miss breakfast in the mess? I even woke up relatively early today.
Emmelia: Maybe I can find some extra stuff around camp? Acting like… some sort of opossum.
Shae: Hm? Oh, good morning Emmelia. Um… is everything alright? You seem to be looking around pretty hard for something.
Emmelia: Ahhh, morning Shae. Well… *chuckles nervously* I’m looking around for possible extra snacks. I missed breakfast in the mess today and I’m really feeling it now.
Emmelia: It’s my own fault for sleeping in, but man. Still sucks.
Emmelia: Did you manage to make it to breakfast this morning?
Shae: Yeah, it was a bit hectic over there earlier. I grabbed a couple small things but I got away from there pretty quick because the crowd got a little too big for me.
Shae: You said you missed breakfast though? That’s not good… well, I might be able to help you out a little. Are you looking for anything in particular?
Emmelia: Yeah, I usually just grab some stuff and leave too. The army is way too big for all of us to sit in there at once.
Emmelia: Honestly, I could go for some fruit -- you can never go wrong with a peach! If you could help me find one, you’d be a lifesaver! Well… a stomach saver at the very least.
Shae: Peaches huh? Hm… how many did… oh! I actually may be able to help with getting one or two, I mean if you don’t mind them being from a day or two ago.
Emmelia: Woah, seriously? I don’t mind at all! They’re my all time favorite!
Shae: Oh, really? Haha, I guess we’re both in luck again. You see, the other day I had found a merchant actually selling them so I kind of bought their whole basket. I didn’t really realize there were way too many for one person until I got back, so I was a bit worried about them going bad.
Shae: I’ve managed to use most of them, but I have a couple extra I can give you. I asked Lady/Lord Corrin if I could keep them in the kitchen, so they should still be there. From the looks of it too, most of the people might have left by now.
Emmelia: I will more than gladly take some of them off your hands! I’ll owe you big time for this. Do you like baked goods? I’ll happily bake you something in return! I can make most things with all the stuff available in the mess…
Emmelia: We just gotta “sneak” in during down times so that others won’t hover.
Shae: I do really like baked goods, so that sounds good to me. I’m glad I can give some of them to someone who likes them so much, I was worried they would go to waste.
Shae: Hey Emmelia, I hope you don’t mind me asking but when did you gain a love for peaches? I know they’re really hard to find in Nohr, even I didn’t start seeing them until a few years ago, and that was near the border. It just seems like a rare food to like around Nohr is all.
Emmelia: Great! Think about what you’d want and I’ll start rounding up the supplies.
Emmelia: Hm, well. It was a long while ago, actually. My Dad has a lot of connections to merchants from his days as a Guard, so he would definitely use them whenever he could. That usually meant that we’d luck out and get things from Hoshido that the average middle-of-no-where village couldn’t get their hands on.
Emmelia: Mind you, it was still rare to get fruits and other perishables, but when we did. It was usually one of my happiest days.
Emmelia: What about you, Shae? Any foods that you love a lot, even if it’s hard to get?
Shae: I see. That’s amazing that your dad was able to do that, and it sounds like you all enjoyed when those kinds of things arrived. I sometimes wish I could have experienced some of Hoshido’s foods growing up as well, because I’ve actually taken quite a liking to their fish and seafood dishes in the past couple years and I feel like I’ve missed out of some great foods growing up.
Shae: Hey, I think I know what would be nice to bake. Your talk of peaches suddenly made me wanting a peach pie, and I’m pretty sure there would be enough after you had a couple for breakfast.
Emmelia: Oh man, their seafood is so good! Who’d have thought joining a war would let you taste so much different foods? And, well, maybe you didn’t get a chance to taste them growing up, but you can taste them now! Better late than never, right? *smiles*
Emmelia: I like the way you think! I can whip up a pretty good peach pie for you, no problem. I’ll even make them mini single ones, so that you can easily eat them for snacks with less of a mess.
A Support
Shae: Oh, hi there Emmelia! Are you free right now? I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a little while now.
Emmelia: Shae! Hey! Yeah, I’m free. I just finished helping with some stocking and stuff.
Emmelia: I’d be happy to answer anything I can for you. *grins*
Shae: Well, I keep noticing the flower in your hair and I was wondering where you got it from? Like, does it have some special meaning or something or is it just because you think it’s pretty? N-not that it just being pretty isn’t a good enough reason to have it th-though!
Emmelia: My flower? Ahh, well, it doesn’t really have a special meaning, per-se… it’s just my favorite type of flower! It was from my mother’s garden and she dipped it in a special resin for me so I could wear it.
Emmelia: : I just really love daffodils… *giggles* just because I think they’re pretty. I could make one for you if you’d like?
Shae: Ah, maybe some other time? Daffodils are really nice, I agree with you on that. Sorry for the random question, it’s just that when I was growing up the grounds around my village weren’t really suited for that kind of plant. I didn’t really start seeing flowers around more until I left home, so I still get a little surprised when I see them around.
Shae: Recently I’ve been asking local people who sell flowers about them and apparently there’s like a whole sort of language surrounding them? I didn’t know they had meanings like that, did you?
Emmelia: Really? I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to grow up around flowers. My Mother always had a garden filled with them, so its hard to imagine my childhood without them. Maybe after the war, you can find a beautiful little spot to plant any type of flower you want.
Emmelia: And I did know! Well… not a whole lot of the meanings, really. Just the basic ones, like roses meaning different types of love and what flowers are best for mourning. Can the meanings get that extensive?
Shae: I guess from what the one lady I talked to said, like every flower has a meaning or maybe even multiples! She tried to go into more detail but I couldn’t wrap my head around half of what she was saying… I think she noticed too because she suddenly just started pointing out easier flowers and meaning all the sudden, like roses that you mentioned.
Shae: I wonder… instead of waiting until after the war, do you think maybe I could try out a flower garden here in camp if Lady/Lord Corrin is okay with it? It just feels like growing them hands-on might help me learn about them more maybe?
Emmelia: That's a lovely idea! It would really boost everyone’s morale too, seeing brightly colored flowers everyday. If you’d like, I’d happily help you with it. We’d just need to find different seeds and bulbs, and find a good spot that has different types of sunlight.
Emmelia: I have a feeling Corrin would be excited about it!
Shae: You think so? Maybe they’re free right now so I could go ask them about it. It would be fun to start one out right away, and that lady I talked to might have some stuff for growing that it could start out with!
Shae: O-okay, I’m gonna go see if Lady/Lord Corrin’s okay with this! If they let me start one, I can go see that lady for some flowers to start out with! Um… would you maybe help me with planting if this whole thing gets started today?
Emmelia: Of course! I can start looking around for a good area if you’d like? The more sunlight variety we can have, the more types of flowers we can plant!
Shae: Right! Alrighty, let’s see what Lady/Lord Corrin thinks!
//scene fades out//
Shae: Well, I think that’s the last of the seeds and bulbs planted! I didn’t think that lady would be willing to sell me so many, but it seems this spot you found is plenty big enough for them!
Emmelia: Wonderful! I’m so excited to watch them grow! We should get the daisies pretty quickly, but the wait will be more than worth it for the others. Everyone is going to love them… I think especially Lord/Lady Corrin and Lady Elise.
Emmelia: Always good to have some color in our lives.
Emmelia: Oh Shae, this was such a wonderful idea you had!
Shae: A-ah, th-thank you… though you had a part in it too for mentioning gardens in the first place. Oh! Before I forget about them, while I was getting all the stuff for the garden I happened to mention to her that a friend really liked daffodils, and she wrapped up a few that she had wrapped and let me have them.
Shae: I figured you really like them, s-so you do want them? They’re a different color than the one in your hair is the only thing.
Emmelia: Ah, I just helped a little…
Emmelia: *pleased gasp* Oh! How pretty! Don’t worry about the color, I love all types of daffodils! These will be so lovely in my quarters… thank you so much.
Emmelia: You’ve been giving me a lot of things recently, I’ve noticed. I have to return the favor one day. Maybe I can make you some lunch tomorrow? We can tend the garden and eat it when we take a break.
Shae: Haha, I just really like giving things to friends is all. Lunch after taking care of the garden sounds really nice though! I look forward to it!
S Support
Emmelia: Oh! Oh Shae, look! Some of the daisies are sprouting. Those two weeks of maintenance really paid off.
Emmelia: Ahh, it's so cute! I know it's just a little green sprout, but… it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.
Shae: H-huh? Oh yeah, look at them popping up! Yeah, it’s been such a great experience watching this garden come to life, even if it does take a while. N-not that I mind though, I’ve really enjoyed spending all this time tending it with you…
Shae: I know you’re probably sick of me thanking you for doing this with me, but I really am grateful you’ve been here with me for these past couple weeks…
Emmelia: I’ve really loved doing this with you too. It’s nice to spend all the time we have together, tending this garden and just enjoying each other’s company. If anything, I should be thanking you just as many times as you’ve thanked me! *chuckles*
Emmelia: But, don’t you worry - I could never be sick of you.
Shae: R-really? Oh wow, hearing you say something like that… I was starting to get worried that maybe I was coming off as a little clingy with wanting to spend time with you. It’s hard for me to be close with others like this a lot because I worry about how I come off, so I-I’m glad I haven’t done something to push you away.
Shae: Ah! I’m sorry for that bit of rambling… I didn’t mean for all of that to come out…
Emmelia: *giggles* It’s OK sweetheart! I understand what you mean. I like it when you ramble, because that gets you to open up more! Hopefully one day you can just ramble around me and not worry about apologizing… because I’d like that a lot.
Emmelia: I love when you ramble and I love when we share comfortable silence. And, of course, I love… u-um…
Emmelia: *coughs* Spending time like this with you. Y-Yeah.
Shae: … A-ah… what if I told you that I wanted t-to keep spending time with you like this… that I d-don’t want moments like this with you to end… and not just keep making moments like this, but all sorts of different kinds together?
Emmelia: That sounds wonderful… I’d like that very much. I had hoped we could be close for a very long time, even when the war ends, but I thought it might be difficult.
Emmelia: What did you have in mind?
Shae: Emmelia, I… r-really li- no, that’s not the right word. I… I… *gulp*
Shae: E-Emmelia, I l-love you! I love you and want to g-give you this ring to show that I want to be with you! Y-you don’t have to take it if you d-don’t want to though!
Emmelia: !!!
Emmelia: Shae! I -- *inhales* Of course I want it! Gods, I love you too… so much. You make me so happy and calm and I want to be with you, too! I want to be with you very much. I had thought that maybe you’d only want to stay friends.
Emmelia: So, I’m… I’m so… ugh, I’m sorry, I’m getting a bit teary. How embarrassing. *embarrassed chuckle*
Shae: N-no no, don’t be s-sorry! I-I’m honestly trying to n-not bawl r-right no- *sob*
Shae: E-Emmelia, I’m so h-happy… I may not h-have much but I-I’ll do everything I can to make every day bright a-and happy for y-you!
Emmelia: Just being with you makes me so, so happy. I’m so excited to watch this garden grow with you, and have a happy future with you from here on out. We’ll make eachother happy… I just know it.
16 notes · View notes
anenemyspy · 7 years
Text
The World Soul Chapter IV
The impact thrummed through Cloud’s arm up into his thick dwarfin shoulder as his axe bit into the stalk of maize. Up above, the green husk wavered back and forth with every swing of the axe. Several more chops and it would come crashing down to earth, ready to be cut free of the stalk and loaded onto the wagon.
Cloud wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The winter had been short this year, and spring was already promising to be a hot one. If the Earth Mother was merciful, she would make the maize grow thick and plentiful before the scorching heat of summer came to turn the plants brown.
The heat had already turned Cloud’s shaggy mop of hair in a soaking mat. Perhaps it was time to shave his head. He had already shorn off the beard that he allowed to grow wild during the cold part of the year.
“Are you hoping that maize will die of old age and fall over on its own accord?” came the voice of Rain, his friend. “What are you thinking of, that is so much more important than cutting this stalk so we can all go back below ground?”
“I am thinking that the Earth Mother could trouble herself to send a cloud our way.”
“I wished the same thing once.” Rain said laughing. “And instead she sent me you, to my everlasting sorrow. Always be careful when asking the Earth Mother for a favor. She just might give it you.”
“Perhaps the work would go faster if that daughter of yours was here to help.” Cloud replied.
“Would that Berry were here at all.” Rain’s face darkened. “I sent her away to the market at Hevel, but she has not returned. She should have been home three days ago.”
“It isn’t like Berry to take so long.” Cloud observed.
“I worry that she has run into trouble, or worse, the charms of some Hevel boy. The last thing I need is the spawn of some Hevel lowlife growing in her belly. And besides, I still need that new rat I sent her to buy.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, don’t listen to me drone on about my children. You’ll soon have your own to drive you into an early grave. The Earth Mother gives us children to punish us for the ordeal we gave our parents, and on and on it goes. Come, let’s finish this stalk so that we can eat.”
With both dwarfs seeting their axes to it, the stalk did not take long to fall. When the ear of maize came down with a mighty crash, the other maizecutters set upon it, chopping the ear away from the stalk and preparing to load it onto the ratdrawn cart. Cloud took the narrow top part of the ear and helped heave it up onto the back of the cart on top of the other ears that were already laid there. He peeled back a part of the green husk and pulled off a black kernel to eat.
“Don’t keep all the kernels to yourself now.” The dwarf named Nut chided him playfully. “We’re all hungry too!”
Once Cloud had pulled off enough maize for each dwarf, and given some to the rat, they all gathered in the cool shade of the maize stalks to eat. The conversation soon turned to ribald jests about what Rain’s daughter was up to in Hevel. Turtle stuffed a rock underneath her shirt and pretended to give birth to it, rasping with silent laughter. Turtle’s throat had been slashed in the war against the goblin tribes, and while the healers had managed to save her life, there was nothing they could do for her speech, or for the ugly scar that marred her neck.
“You had best go get another rat yourself, Rain.” Nut said. “Likely Berry will break the back one she bought with her extra weight.”
“Ach, the Void take the lot of you.” Rain cursed them. “I have to go take a piss. Better than sitting here and listening to your jabbering.” He stormed off and disappeared from sight amongst the thick stalks of maize.
Nut’s laughs died off when Rain was out of earshot. “You don’t think Berry has run into any kind of trouble, do you?” She said, concern in her voice. “I had heard that the Sylthi raiders have grown bolder near the border.”
“They would have grown bold indeed to come this close to the city.” Cloud said to her. There was a time when Sylth had been a thriving and powerful rival kingdom to Arden, but that was before the great war. Now the once great city that was the beating heart of Sylth stood dead and empty, and what little remained of the Sylthi people were nothing more than vagabonds and raiders who attacked sparsely populated villages and melting away when the Ardenian patrols came after them. “Tyrant King Fox would not allow the Sylthi to attack this far from the frontier. More likely Berry has simply partaken in too much wine and pleasure. You know how the markets are during the coming of spring. Berry is likely on the way home as we speak, with a head pounding from wine and trying to come up with an excuse for why she’s taken so long to return.”
“Ah, I suppose you are right.” Nut said. “I remember a certain summer solstice I spent at the capital city. Have you ever been to the capital, Cloud?”
He nodded. “Once, when I was young. Just after the war ended.” The city was crowded, filled with folk who had been taking refuge behind the walls. On that day, everyone was smiling. The high lords came down from their pyramids, resplendent in robes of gold and green, throwing down gold and silver to the jubilant throngs. The army had marched through the city streets in polished armor that had shined as brightly as the noonday sun. They had been led by the Darkstar himself, holding aloft the legendary black sword of Arden that was his namesake. Even the Tyrant King herself was there, and laid a silver circlet upon the Darkstar’s head in recognition of his victory. What followed were seven days of feasting and celebrating. All of Arden was in celebration then, but that was a long time ago.
“Soon Wren will give you a child of your own, and you will be able to to take them to see the city for themselves.” Nut said.
“Ah, that will be fine day.” Cloud replied.
Their discussion was cut short by a surprised shout deeper into the maize stalks. All three dwarfs scrambled to their feet.
“That was Rain.” Cloud said. “What would make him cry out like that?”
“A snake probably bit him on his cock.” Rain said with a laugh. “The way he likes to boast about it, it probably took it for a mate.” She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. “Rain! What are you screaming like a child for?”
The stalks shook back and forth and rustled loudly as someone moved through them, far too loudly to be just one dwarf. Turtle picked up her bronze headed axe. She was the only one of them who had brought theirs with them to eat.
“We should get away from here.” Nut whispered, just before a spear flew from the brush and took her through the neck. Blood gushed from her mouth as it opened and closed wordlessly, and she pitched over backward, eyes wide open in fright.
Turtle sprung forward, her axe splitting open the head of a goblin as it lunged out from the stalks. She swung, catching another one in the chest, but then they were all around her, small grey skinned creatures with long pointy ears that dragged Turtle to the ground and swarmed over her, stabbing her with primitive stone knives.
Cloud had forgotten how to move. All he could do was stare in abject horror at the goblins savaging his friend’s corpse, and at the bewildered look on Nut’s dead face. When the goblins turned their eyes on him though, instinct took over where rationality had failed, and he ran.
He could remember how he had taken his axe to the ropes that tied the rat to the maize wagon and leaped on its back, spurring it with a slap to the rear to run, a mere step ahead of the goblins who had chased him. One had grabbed at his leg as he rode past, trying to pull him off, but Cloud had managed to kick free. Everything past that was a blur. All he knew was that he had to find Wren.
He tore into the village and nearly fell off the rat in his hurry to dismount. “Goblins!” He shouted incoherently to every dwarf he saw as he ran to the butcher’s shop where Wren spent her days. “Goblins! Goblins! Goblins!”
Wren’s arms were soaked to the elbow in blood when Cloud found her at her butcher’s stand. She was pulling the entrails from the body of a lizard that lay on the table. Wren’s hair was the same light brown as the bird she was named for, and she had a long beard that came down in a single braid to her belly, where a small bulge was just visible underneath her heavily stained apron.
Wren smiled when she saw her husband. “Have you finished harvesting the maize already? Good, then you can help me in here.” The smile faded from her lips when she saw the look on his face. “What is wrong?”
“Goblins.” Cloud said in between heavy breaths. “They attacked us. Rain, the others, they’re dead.”
“Dead? Cloud, what are talking about?”
Cloud took his wife by the wrist. Wren was brawnier than him, but she didn’t resist as he led her outside. “The goblins are coming to burn the village to the ground, like they did during the war. We have to get out of here while we can.”
“No.” Wren said. “I will not be chased from my home by some dirty goblins. We’ll stay here and fight them off. I still have my father’s spear from the war and I can use it.”
“Look around you!” Cloud said, gesturing at the ramshackle collection of houses that made up the village they called home. “We can’t defend ourselves here. We need warn everybody to run and make for the city.”
“I was not raised to be a coward!” Wren protested. “How can we call ourselves Ardenians if we turn and run from the enemy?”
“If we die here, nobody will remain to tell the Tyrant King that there are goblins within Arden’s borders. If the army is not sent out, other villages will be attacked.” He put his hand on Wren’s belly where their child was growing inside. “Think of our child, Wren.”
Wren slid her hand over his. Emotions battled each other over her face, but finally she sighed. “Very well then, you win. For the good of our child I’ll run. We will need to get supplies from the house if we mean to reach the city, though.”
“Agreed.” Said Cloud, relieved that Wren had relented so easily. The goblins would not be long in coming, and there was no time to squander on arguing.
The two dwarfs hurried together to the disheveled hovel that was their home, shouting warnings to everyone who crossed their path. Cloud pushed aside the flap of moleskin that covered the entrance and stormed inside. In truth, the crude wooden structure that made up the hovel was little more than a covering for the hole that led deeper underground, protecting it from the hot sun and the cold rain. Under the cool ground, Cloud could already feel the reassuring presence of Earth pressing in on all sides.
Their worldly treasures, such as they were, included a wooden lute whose golden paint had long ago chipped and faded, an old book of legends with yellowed pages, a dull bladed war axe and a black shafted spear that hung on the wall in the place of honor, and a dented half helm that Wren’s father had worn during the war and had saved his life when a goblin had struck him with a copper axe. Neither Cloud nor Wren had been old enough to fight against the goblins in the previous invasion, but all Ardenian children were taught the rudiments of combat in case the need should ever arise. Cloud hefted his axe, wishing now that he had taken better care of it. His arm was strong and his grip was sure, but Cloud had never possessed the heart of a warrior. Wren was always the fighter of the couple. Her spear gleamed. Its polished bronze point was wicked sharp, and she practiced regularly at her fighting technique.
Wren donned her father’s helm as Cloud scrabbled under the bed for the small bag of silver they kept hidden there. He began hurriedly stuffing what food they had laid by into a sack. Everything else they would need to leave behind. There was simply too little time to pack it all, and the only rat they had was the one Cloud had ridden from the maize field.
When the old man Umber’s warhorn sounded, Cloud knew that their time had run out. “The goblins are here already.” Wren said, her grip tightening on her spear.
“They couldn’t have gotten here already on foot.” Cloud protested. “The maize field is too far away!” It wasn’t fair, he thought, they hadn’t been given enough time.
“There must have been more already on the way.” Wren said. “Come, there’s no time to dwell on the how or why of it. We need to escape now.”
Mother protect us. Cloud thought as he followed his mate up the ladder to the surface. The Earth Mother had allowed him to escape back to the village so that he could get his unborn child to safety. Surely she would not abandon him now.
The scene outside the hovel was far worse than Cloud could have imagined. This was no small raiding party of goblins, it was a small army. The grey skinned devils swarmed through the village, armed with spears and clubs and axes of bone and copper and obsidian. There must have been a hundred and a half of them. Around him, other dwarfs were fighting, armed and armored in whatever relics of the old war they had laid by. Any dwarf was worth five goblins in a battle, Cloud had always been told, and the craftsmanship of Ardenian arms far outstripped anything the savage greyskins could bring to bear. Already the goblin corpses began to pile around the defending dwarfs, but they fought with a savagery that belied their small stature, and their numbers were allowing them to swarm around the villagers, stabbing and cutting them in the legs and sides, until they could bring the dwarfs to the ground and fall upon them in a frenzied mob of knives and clubs.
Three of the goblins rushed at Cloud and Wren as they exited their home. Wren readied her spear and lashed out, taking one goblin through its screaming mouth. In half a heartbeat, the spear was already out of that goblin and into another, goring it straight through the abdomen. The third one had closed the distance, swinging its stone axe in an arc aimed at Wren’s belly. She shifted her spear, checking the goblin’s cut and whirled the haft around, striking the goblin’s head with the butt of her spear and knocking it to the ground. Before the goblin could try to scramble up, Wren’s foot came down on the back of its neck and broke it.
“Where is the rat?” Wren shouted at him. “We have to get out of here right now!”
Would that Cloud could have answered her question. The animal was gone, likely run off by the sound of fighting. “It’s gone.” He said. We’re going to die. I couldn’t protect you.
“Well we can’t stay here!” Wren shouted above the din of battle. “Come on!” She took Cloud’s hand and together they ran. “We’ll leave on foot if we have to!”
“We can’t outrun the goblins without a mount.” Cloud said.
“Then we will find one!” A pair of goblins blocked their path. As Cloud and Wren readied their weapons, four more goblins caught up to them from behind. “Or we will die together.” She said.
“I would sooner we live together.” Cloud said. “And see each other grow old.”
“Either way, the Earth Mother has allowed me to be with you in my final moments when she could have taken you out in the maize. I will take solace in that.”
The first goblin to attack was gored through by Wren’s spear, and the second met Cloud’s axe. The axehead was not sharp enough to cleave through the goblin’s head, but his strike was sure, and he heard the wet crunch of bone as the goblin’s skull caved in. The third goblin was buried under a pile of fur and claws as the rat came barreling in from somewhere unseen. The animal’s sharp teeth dug into the goblin’s exposed neck, spraying blood. The rat bared its fangs at the remaining three goblins, who all ran off in search of an easier target.
“You came back!” Cloud had to exclaim. It was almost too fortunate to be believed. He stroked the rat on the head.
“The Earth Mother provides.” Wren said with a smile. “Perhaps you will be getting your wish after all.”
A spear erupted from her belly, coated red. Hot blood splashed over Cloud’s breeches. Some distance behind his mate stood a goblin that was taller than Cloud would have ever believed. It was bigger than a dwarf, with thick muscular arms that connected to broad, powerful shoulder. Its mouth was filled with razor sharp fangs, its eyes were black and cruel, and atop its head rested the skull of a snake. It came toward Cloud with an almost casual swagger, hefting a heavy club tipped with a sharp piece of glittering diamond.
Wren looked down at the spear jutting from her body with shock and disbelief. Her own spear fell from her hand as she grabbed at the bloody point, as if trying to pull it out of herself. She fell to her knees and pitched forward into the dust, her life spilling out red into the dirt.
In that moment, Cloud’s world came to an end. He looked to the monstrous, sneering goblin in front of him, and at the well worn axe in his hand. His vision blurred. There would be no escape for him. He would die here in the dirt next to his mate, and if the Earth Mother was merciful, their spirits would find each other in whatever realm lay beyond this one. There was only one thing he had to do first.
The sound that came from his lips was nothing intelligible, only a scream of rage and heartbreak. Let me kill this goblin before I die. That is all I ask. He charged, axe raised over his head, ready to come crashing down on the monster’s head with all his strength and hatred.
The goblin swatted aside his blow with almost contemptuous ease. A meaty hand with long grasping fingers took Cloud by the back of the neck and flung him down into the dust. A heavy foot stomped down on his hand and kicked the axe away.
“Roll him over.” The big goblin said, and soon there were hands all over Cloud, smaller goblins who grabbed him by all sides and laughed as he tried to swat them away. They turned him over until he was looking up at open sky. Cloud strained against them, but there were too many to fight. They held his arms down, stretched out his legs, wouldn’t let him move.
The big goblin pointed to Cloud’s right leg, and the goblins raised it up off the ground. “Nooo…” Cloud moaned, when he realized what the monster meant to do. When the diamond tipped club shattered his knee, Cloud’s entire world shrunk down to one place of sublime agony. When the club broke his other knee, he passed out from the pain.
When Cloud awoke, the battle was over. Dwarfs and goblins lay strewn about the village, tangled all together in death. Goblins stooped down over the bodies, collecting weapons and other treasures from the fallen. Through the haze of pain, Cloud could see that the Children’s House was burning.
He was tied to a crossed pair of wooden beams, he realized. His legs dangled uselessly below him, and his arms were lashed to the horizontal beam, suspending him over the ground. His breaths came hard and ragged.
The hulking goblin in the snake helm came to him when it saw that he was awake. “K-kill me…” Cloud struggled to say the words, it was so hard to breathe.
The goblin found that amusing. His sharp teeth flashed in cruel smile. “Kill you? No, your work is not completed. You are to be the herald of our coming.” His voice was like scraping gravel. The goblin produced a silver coin with a hole in the middle that had a thread running through it. “If any dwarfs should happen by before you die, tell them to look at this coin and know that Arden shares the same fate as the city that made this.” The goblin fastened the coin around Cloud’s neck. “The time of the dwarfs is at an end. Soon your kind will be only a memory.”
The goblin left him, and before long the village was deserted, leaving Cloud alone with only the beating of the hot sun and the carrion birds that circled above.
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dracoqueen22 · 4 years
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[Tethers] Capes and Pants
Title: Pants and Capes Universe: Tethers Characters: Tyrael Ashborn, Tempest Teapot, Dakota Sorrel Rated: K+ Description: Tyrael’s new companions continue to bafffle him in ways he never expected. “What are you doing?” Tyrael tries to ignore the nosy question. He hunches his shoulders and stares harder at the parchment smoothed out in front of him. A few inked lines scrawl across the paper, but words are hard, especially words like these. They have to be the right words, honest, but not too revealing. Truthful, without spilling his heart on the page. He misses Elias, all the way down to his marrow, but a part of him worries Elias might not miss him in return. The distance stretches between them, further and further, with every step Tyrael takes from home. Elias might find another, someone who hasn’t gone on a quest of indeterminable length, and who might die in the pursuit of it. “What are you writing?”
Tyrael huffs and curves his body away from Tempest, attempting to shield the paper from her point of view. “If it was something I wanted to share, I would have told everyone.”
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not the greatest reader.” Thump goes Tempest’s elbow as she leans on the table beside him. “I was just curious. We’re still strangers, right? We should get to get to know each other.” "For what reason?" Tyrael asks. Tempest wriggles her whole body in a shrug. "Because we're going to be friends." She cranes her neck to try and peer over his arm. "Celeste said you had a boyfriend. Are you writing to him?" Tyrael sighs and scans the common room of the inn, searching the tables full of people engaged in quiet conversation. Easton is off by himself in a dark corner, reading a book while he sips on a tankard, but Tyrael sees no one else from their party. "Where is Dakota?" "He took my pants and went up to our room," Tempest says, and despite himself, Tyrael looks down. She is indeed without pants. Her tunic drapes to mid-thigh, and her boots come up to mid-calf, but her bare, scarred knees are visible to all and sundry. He fears what the world might see if she were to bend over. "Why...?" Tyrael pauses, draws a breath to comport himself. "Why did he take your pants?" And how? Had she simply stripped them off here in the common room? Or had she undressed upstairs and then come back downstairs as if her partial nudity was of no concern? "Because they were ripped," Tempest says in a tone which implies Tyrael is dumb for even asking. She grins and leans forward. "So. Is it a letter to your boyfriend?" "Why didn't you go with him?" Tyrael asks. Tempest furrows her brow, looking genuinely confused. "Why would I? The ale's down here. Watching him fix a rip is boring." She brightens. "Maybe if I'm lucky, there'll be a fight." "Not in this place, I wager," Tyrael says, casting a pointed look around them. It's a subdued inn they've found this time around, full of hard-working individuals too tired after a long day's work to do much more than eat, drink, and engage in quiet chatter. Denize is not a rowdy village which is precisely why Tyrael enjoys it so much. A shame it's only a brief stopover on their way from Marbadan to Port Udousk. "Then conversation it is!" Tempest grins and her whole body wriggles, like a puppy demanding attention. "You still haven't answered my question." Tyrael sighs. The ink has long dried, so he carefully rolls up the parchment once more. "Yes," he says. "I was writing a letter to someone important to me." "Your boyfriend?" Tempest plants her elbow on the table and leans her head against her knuckles. "What's his name?" Tyrael tucks the parchment behind his plate armor. "Elias. He's back home. In Alduin." "Why didn't he come with you?" Tempest asks. "Because this is my quest, not his," Tyrael says. Tempest blinks and her brow furrows again. "Is it Celeste's quest, too?" "She invited herself." Tyrael sits back in his chair and signals the server for another drink. He's going to need one if he's going to get through this conversation. "As for Elias... he had other duties he couldn't abandon to accomplish my quest." "Is he waiting for you?" Tempest asks. Tyrael's mouth opens, then closes. He hadn't asked, because he didn't want a promise neither of them could keep. He certainly hopes Elias is willing to wait, but he also doesn't want Elias to be alone. If he meets someone else, Tyrael wishes them well. Or at least, that would be the honorable thing to say. His heart aches at the idea of letting Elias go. "My quest could take a long time," Tyrael says instead. "If I return at all." Tempest scrunches her nose. "You think you might die?" "It's a dangerous world," Tyrael says. He rubs his wrist where their encounter with a trapworm had nearly cost him his hand. If not for Celeste, he might have been forced to trade in his greatsword for something he could wield with only one hand. "I'm realistic." "I mean, I'm realistic, too, but I prefer to think things are going to turn out okay," Tempest says. She taps her chin, her ears flicking in an adorable manner. It’s hard, sometimes, not to see her as a youth given her behavior. Harder still to know she’s actually older than him. "You really love him, huh? That's nice. I don't really do 'love,' but I think it's nice you have someone." Tyrael furrows his brow. There she goes again, saying something odd as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. "What is that supposed to mean?" Tempest blinks and looks confused. "Um. That I think it's sweet you have a boyfriend?" She sits up and tilts her head. "And I hope you can see him again soon?" "No, I meant the other thing." "What other thing?" Tyrael sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nevermind. I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose. Only time will tell what actually happens." "Just gotta have faith," Tempest chirps, but she leans a little to the left, staring past him, toward one of the table clusters. "Hey, you think he wants company?" "Who?" Gods, she has the attention span of a gnat. Tyrael twists to follow her gaze, seeing a lone elf sitting at a table, soot staining his clothes and cheeks, his worn hands cupping a mug of ale. It's impossible to guess his age, given the longspan of elves, but as to whether he desires company? Tyrael doesn't know. Then again, he hadn't wanted company and that hadn't stopped Tempest. "Maybe?" Tyrael hazards. Tempest grins and hops down from the chair, adjusting her clothes and tugging her tunic a bit open at the lapel, physically adjusting the swell of her chest. "I'm going to find out." Tyrael blinks. "But you're a halfling." "I am?" Tempest's eyes widen in false surprise. Tyrael rolls his eyes. "Fine. I see your point. At least promise me you have protection." Tempest beams at him and pats her side. "Got a dagger right here. Don't leave home without it. Sweet of you to worry though." She tugs at her clothes again, showing even more skin than her unclad legs offer. "Wish me luck." He isn't sure she needs it. She's got confidence oozing out of her, and she struts up with her shoulders raised and a jaunty pep to her step. She swings by the barkeep, gets two more mugs, and saunters right up to the elf's table, sliding the mug down in front of him. They are too far for Tyrael to hear their conversation, but he sees the surprise, and then the invitation in the elf's face. Tempest grins and hops up into the chair, her tunic riding up and showing off an obscene amount of thigh, plus the beginning curve of a buttock. She leans forward, squeezing her bosom between her arms, and yes, the elf's eyes drop to it. Clearly someone is going to have a happy ending tonight. Tyrael pulls out his parchment for Elias and his quill and dampens the tip. He re-reads what he's written already, and manages to add a few lines before the back of his neck prickles, and he registers someone looming a foot or so away from him. He sighs quietly and puts down his quill, looking up to see Dakota standing over him, his face built into a glower, though Tyrael suspects that's merely his default expression. "Where is Tempest?" he asks and only then does Tyrael realize he's clutching fabric which looks like a scarf in his hands, but must actually be Tempest's leggings. "I am not her keeper," Tyrael says, but he tilts his head toward the corner where he'd last seen her. "She's wooing a companion for the night." Dakota's eyes narrow. He looks past Tyrael and sighs. "She must have succeeded," he rumbles and looks exasperated as he balls up the leggings and tucks them into a pouch. Tyrael glances in the corner. Indeed, both Tempest and the elf are gone. "You're not worried?" he asks. Dakota snorts. "She can take care of herself." He looks around the common room, brow furrowing as he lingers on Easton before he returns his attention to Tyrael. "You tore your cloak." Tyrael blinks and follows the line of Dakota's gaze. There is indeed a rip in his cloak, probably from the bramble bush which caught him earlier. His luck has been absolutely terrible since leaving Alduin, from the seasickness to the thievery to the trapworm and now the bramble bush. He sighs. "So I did." Tyrael fingers the fabric. Elias had bought this for him, having commissioned one of the temple wardens to weave it. Tyrael hadn’t worn it before receiving the quest, and Elias had insisted he do so. "Give it here." "Um." Tyrael's hand moves to his clasp before he realizes what he's doing. "Why?" "Do you want the tear fixed or not?" Dakota asks. Tyrael feels like he's in the middle of a conversation he doesn't remember having. "I do, but--" "Then let me have it, and I'll fix it." Dakota holds out his hand expectantly. Tyrael finishes with the clasp and sweeps the cloak from his shoulders. "Thank you. I appreciate that." He hands it over. "This is, um, important to me." "Like the pouch, I wager. I understand." Dakota dips his head into a nod as he accepts the cloak, folding it into a neat square for him to carry. "You'll have it back at breakfast." He offers a two-fingered salute before he lumbers away, the most incongruent thing in this tavern right now. If it bothers him, Dakota shows no sign. He’s probably used to it. Tyrael sighs and rubs his forehead. He stares down at the letter for Elias. He’s been working on it for weeks. He wonders if he’s ever going to finish it. He rolls up the parchment and tucks it back into his armor. He finishes his mug of ale and rises from the table, feeling oddly light without the sweep of his cape. He casts a glance around the common room once more, but even Easton has vanished from the corner, leaving Tyrael the last of the party to retire for the evening. He climbs the stairs to the room he shares with Nym, opening the door as quietly as he can, not that it matters as the gemfling sleeps like the dead and has no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. It’s a terribly good thing he’s attached himself to their party, because Tyrael fears he might not have survived wandering the world alone. It’s not naivete, but a sheer lack of survival instinct. Nym snores; Tyrael painstakingly strips out of his armor and climbs into the bed, under blankets he hopes are clean, but the smell suggests otherwise. He pulls the pillow over his head to muffle Nym’s raucous breathing. They have a long day of travel tomorrow, toward a decision as vague as the quest he’s undertaken. He misses Elias with a terrible ache in the center of his chest. He hadn’t understood the weight of duty until he left Alduin. It’s becoming increasingly clear he hadn’t understood much at all. This is the vow he’s made, however, and he can’t turn his back on Cyrillus. He can only keep moving forward. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll finish the letter. Tyrael closes his eyes and goes to sleep. ***
a/n: Feedback would be absolutely lovely. I’m still building this original world of mine, practicing my characters before I start the main narrative, and I’d love to know what people think!
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biofunmy · 5 years
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In London, Communal Garden Is Just for You (and a Few Neighbors)
Most Londoners will never get the keys to the castle, but a lucky few do get the keys to a communal garden, semiprivate spaces for the exclusive use of residents with homes in surrounding buildings.
Some of these leafy spaces qualify as mysterious, almost-secret hideaways, tucked behind homes and invisible from the street. Others are tempting, well-groomed areas in plain view but cordoned off by iron railings and gates.
With the city’s once red-hot real estate market so depressed because of concerns around Britain’s possible departure from the European Union, buyers are looking for that something extra, even if access to a parklike communal garden can come with a set of seemingly random rules: Older than 12? You may not be allowed to toss a ball around.
Most of the garden squares in the English capital date to the Georgian or Victorian eras, when the city was fast expanding over fields and marshlands. But at least a few smart Londoners saw value in holding onto these patches of greenery: Many are now protected by the London Squares Preservation Act of 1931, which also limits their use to “ornamental pleasure grounds or grounds for play, rest and recreation.”
Experts say there really is no accurate count of how many are out there. The city’s last complete inventory was carried out almost a century ago, according to Todd Longstaffe-Gowan, a landscape architect redesigning the gardens of Kensington Palace and the author of “The London Square.”
“There are possibly 350 early squares (17th to early 20th century),” he said. “If one were to count communal gardens that are not called ‘squares,’ ‘crescents,’ etc., I expect the number would be closer to 600 to 700.” Some of the newer ones, he said, “are merely street widenings and excuses for the builders to inflate the asking prices that surround them, as it is still very desirable in London to live on a square.”
Ipek Muminoglu and her husband, Miray, say that having access to a communal garden has made big-city life more serene.
The couple bought their four-bedroom, 1,750-square-foot, or 160-square-meter, apartment in 2010 in a building that abuts the Canfield and Greencroft Garden in the South Hampstead Conservation Area. Mr. Muminoglu is a banker in the Canary Wharf financial district about 25 minutes away by Tube, while Mrs. Muminoglu is a stay-at-home mother.
“I was brought up in a house with a garden in Istanbul, so I had this romantic idea of getting a house with a garden,” Mr. Muminoglu said over tea in their sun-drenched salon. “But then I realized that a communal garden is the best because someone else looks after it. I wanted a garden and a balcony, and we got both.”
Their neighborhood in northwest London is a zone of multistory red brick Victorian-era single-family and subdivided homes that feature terra-cotta panels, original stained glass and decorative ironwork on balconies.
Front gardens are packed with rose and lilac bushes, and are enclosed with low walls and green hedges. It’s not uncommon to hear French, Italian or Japanese being spoken by neighbors.
Mark Rees, the sales manager for South and West Hampstead at the real estate agency Parkheath, said the area “typically will attract families and also maybe slightly older young professionals,” even in a market slowed by Brexit-related fears.
He added that many people looking for homes are requesting properties with access to a communal garden. “It’s part of the charm,” he said.
It’s also part of the price. Mr. Rees recently sold a two-bedroom apartment with access to the Canfield and Greencroft Garden that had an asking price of nearly 1.5 million pounds, or about $1.9 million.
“Any outside space here in the U.K., especially within London, is a bonus,” he said. “So having access to a communal garden would certainly push you up into the higher end of the valuation price per square foot.”
A unit that would rent for £2,000 a month without a garden would probably list for £2,500, Mr. Rees said. “There’s certainly a premium. Valuewise for a sale, add roughly £50,000.”
For the Muminoglu family, their property, built in 1886, was a compromise.
“I’m a big fan of flats rather than multistory houses,” Mrs. Muminoglu said. “He had never lived in a flat in his life. We were looking for very different things.”
But they agreed they wanted to live close to the city center.
“We knew we had to be urban,” Mr. Muminoglu said. “And it’s so important to be where friends can stop by.”
He loves the view of the communal garden from the balcony off the kitchen-dining area.
And she loves the light that streams in across the tree-filled meadow, where the iris and daffodil bulbs send up green shoots.
The garden’s lawn gently slopes over the equivalent of two city blocks and features benches, swings, a slide and a half-dome jungle gym for children, and cherry, apple, evergreen and even palm trees.
On a recent Sunday afternoon, one could hear birds singing and the occasional airplane overhead. A man was taking a walk with a baby on his chest. A couple sat quietly on a bench. An orange tabby cat and a squirrel scampered through the bushes. A preteen boy threw a Frisbee to a dog.
How often do the Muminoglus use the garden?
“To be perfectly frank, not enough,” Mr. Muminoglu said, “but whenever we do, it’s really priceless. A couple of barbecues a year, or one Sunday we might grab our newspapers and spend three hours there. It’s one of those things: It’s so lovely that it’s there. Just looking at it fills me with joy and relaxation.”
As with many communal gardens, a local committee stipulates how and when the space can be used.
“It’s heavily regulated by the Canfield and Greencroft Garden Committee,” Mr. Muminoglu said. “For example, if you are over 12 years old, you are not supposed to have any ball games. We don’t allow bonfires. We don’t allow fireworks — but quite a few of the other gardens must, because we hear them.”
The garden is supported and maintained through fees paid by the owners of properties that surround it.
“This garden actually belongs to some lord’s or viscount’s estate,” Mr. Muminoglu said, “and each building pays something toward it. I think our entire five-flat building pays around £1,600 a year. So we pay around 300 a year to use the garden.”
Any drawbacks of the shared space were minor, he said. “Every now and then you might have some of the youngsters congregating with certain smells,” he said, making it clear he was not referring to simple cigarettes. “But very rarely, and not during the day.”
“The worst,” he said, “is when you are down in the garden barbecuing and you realize you forgot the ketchup.”
Security issues, he said, were also minor. “People who used to live here sometimes try to keep the keys,” he said. “At first, we did have some concerns, but with an alarm and everything, nothing has happened on our side.”
Hollywood, however, did come up with one memorable security breach: In the film “Notting Hill,” the characters played by Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant break into Rosmead Garden by climbing over an iron fence.
Mr. Grant’s British bookstore-owner character explains to Ms. Robert’s American actress character about the “mysterious” communal gardens that are “like little villages.”
When she suggests they enter, he replies: “No. That’s the point. They’re private villages. Only the people who live round the edges are allowed in.” (That didn’t stop them from taking a moonlight stroll.)
Communal gardens and squares can also be found in other areas of London, and home prices rise substantially in tonier parts of the city.
James Gilbert-Green of the agency Savills handles what he calls “the prime market in prime central London, so areas like Belgravia, Knightsbridge, Chelsea, Kensington,” which feature both types of communal gardens: ones in front of the property and ones in back.
“People like both, for being able to let kids run directly out the house and into the garden rather than across the road,” he said, “but there’s also an attraction for the common garden square, which is perhaps a little bit more secure because your property doesn’t directly back onto it. You are over the road from it, and your principal rooms at the front of the house overlook that lovely green space.”
One recent listing with Savills was a three-bedroom apartment with a little more than 2,800 square feet on Eaton Square in the Belgravia district with an asking price of almost £10 million. Eaton Square is “made up of six separate garden squares divided by the road network that goes between each one,” Mr. Gilbert-Green said.
Among other notable squares is Cadogan Place. “It’s popular because it’s so large, about eight acres in total,” he said. It also has two tennis courts.
Belgrave Square “is interesting,” he said. “It’s quite a busy garden, a very, very grand, ambassadorial garden square, and the biggest houses in Belgravia are on Belgrave Square. The garden itself is about six acres. It feels like a sort of oasis when you are inside. You have no idea of the traffic that’s going around. It’s lusciously planted, good for summer parties.”
Invitation only, one presumes.
Luckily, all hope is not lost for those of us on the outside looking in.
Each June, the gates of dozens of otherwise private spaces are unlocked for Open Garden Squares Weekend, during which ticket holders can visit.
Sahred From Source link Real Estate
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