#potato farming practices

[farmerstrend]

Dehaulming in Potato Production: Methods, Benefits, and Risks

“Learn about dehaulming in potato production, a crucial practice for hardening tuber skins and minimizing post-harvest damage, with insights into different methods and their impact on crop health.” “Discover the importance of dehaulming in potato farming, including the benefits, risks, and methods like haulms cutting, pulling, and paraquat spray to optimize your harvest.” “Explore how dehaulming…

[itsalwaysdark]

itis very funny i post so much abt myself but i dont actually post that much abt what goes on day to day . mainly bc there isnt much but like. u guys arent even aware of mine and lamps current music phase .. crazy

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ messy on a haystack

❥ dbf!logan x fem!reader

having a crush on an older man, your dad’s best friend , was something you never expected.

❥ tags: age gap (but it makes sense), based off of origins wolverine, reader is thick asf (country booty duhh), explicit language, creaming, squirting, breeding kink, pussy drunk logan, mutant awakening, semi-plot—needed him to fuck us asap, logan is a little pervy…

note: up next, fantasize. wc: 2.8k

your dad left the farm’s care in your hands this week, while he took a trip back to his hometown to check on his parents—your grandparents. which means that you were in charge of everything. from the animals, to the wood the men chopped, to the pay and the workers; you were in charge of it all. including him.

logan had known your father for a while, meeting him a few months after you left for college and that was practically six years ago. during that time, logan practically ran the farm with your father—he was his right hand man. everything was running smoothly, the farm had been booming for years. and then your father got sick, changing everything.

people found out about your father’s sickness and tried to get him sell. logan would scare them away most of the time, telling them to fuck off, but then the stress of running the farm started to jeopardize his health even more. so, logan found your number stashed in your father’s office—your dad’s too stubborn and old school to get a cellphone—and gave you a call. you caught the next flight out.

the moment you stepped on the dirt paved roads, everything seemed to perk back up. especially your old man. but, when logan laid eyes on you, he was finally able to see what you really looked like, (your dad kept old photos of you in his office) and he was amazed. you were gorgeous, prettiest lil thing he’d ever seen.

those deep blue flare jeans you wore, hugged you tighter than a grandma during holidays. and he never thought he was an ass man till he seen yours and how it sat in your jeans. and don’t get him started on how you filled out your the cropped white beater—fuck he sounded like a perv. but, it’s been a long time since he thought about a woman like that; and you were everything and then some.

after greeting your dad and explaining to him why you were here, you finally met the mysterious man who called you—and let’s just say he caught your eyes too. he was handsome, the rugged look he adorned was incredibly sexy and the way he would look at you; had your panties wet every night. if someone would hear your thoughts right now, they’d call you weird and tell you that he was old enough to be your father—but thank goodness he was not.

—

“time for lunch boys!” you yelled out to the men hard at work, watching them throw down their things and separate—happy to finally stop working and chow down. you watched as logan sauntered over towards you, standing on the porch; waiting for him to join you for lunch. “hi logan.”

“hey princess, what’s for lunch?” you blushed at the nickname and walked with him to the kitchen, where you had practically went all out. you made a big ole southern meal. you loved cooking, it was your love language. and he loved the meals you’d make.

the two of you sat down and began passing around the various dishes of food you had made, before he sparked up a conversation. “your dad left today, right? what day did he say he’ll be back?” his eyes locked onto yours as he picked the chicken you made, munching on it while he spoke.

“yeah and he won’t be back until…next monday.” he nodded and smirked, tossing back some more of the home cooked food you made. “so then i got you all to myself then?” you nearly choked on your mashed potatoes, eyes wide when you saw him smirking. there was no denying that you heard him, loud and clear.

just as you were about to respond, the kitchen timer went off—signaling that it was time to go back to work. you pouted and he hurried up to scarf down the glass of water beside his food before getting up and leaning over to kiss your forehead, “later princess. I’ll be back tonight.” you watched him leave, heart heavy with love and your mind going crazy with what happened at the table.

you spent the next few hours at the front office, crunching numbers and overseeing where the next shipment of wood was going. the sun going down and slipping past the horizon, made the workers excited as they all wrapped up their work and lined up to clock out. you watched from the porch, as they scanned their manilla colored time cards in front of the clock and headed home.

logan was the last one and when he clocked out, he made his way over towards you. his flannel was torn to shreds and his beater that made his toned torso stick out, was covered in dirt; showing how hard his day went. but all in all, he was still sexy, even when covered in dirt.

“logan~” your voice mimicked a siren, trying to seduce a sailor in by the sexy tone of their voice, while your eyes were low and lidded. he could feel himself grown in his pants from the sound of your voice, his desire for you growing by the second.

“need sumn’, princess?” his voice made you melt and you pressed your thighs together. “shower’s free and i made your bed. ooh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re still hungry!” you smiled at him, trying to suppress a moan when his natural scent hit your nostrils. the smell of woods, hours old cologne and hard work, had your panties wet.

he nodded his head, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to your thick thighs that were no longer being hidden by denim—before fixtating them back onto your own. “might have to marry ya’ one day.” he commented, planting a kiss on your forehead, before stepping into the house.

letting out a moan, you bit your lip and accepted the tingling sensation that throbbed down below. oh you needed him bad.

logan enjoyed the shower’s hot steaming waters, easing the tension in his muscles and helping him clear his brain. well at least he tried to, his head was clouded with thoughts of you. his best friend’s daughter.

once he stepped out of the shower and put on something comfy, he went down to the kitchen hoping to find you there, however much to his dismay you weren’t. he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. just as he was about to put it his lips, he heard you let out a distressed scream and he took off running.

he could see you in front of the barn doors being harassed by the men that came a month ago, whom tried to get your dad to sell his land. one had a grip on your hair while the other stood in front, taunting you. logan practically pounced on them and his claws unsheathed, slicing them men up.

you back away and watched as they fought, blood splattering everywhere—but that’s not what worried you. what made you worry was when both of the men began to overpower logan—you had to help him. you realized there were some tools in the barn and as you moved to get, you appeared inside in the blink of an eye; grabbing a shovel before appearing right behind the fighting men again.

your mind was pushing out a million thoughts about what just happened, but you didn’t have time to focus on them right now; you had to save him. you swung with all of your might, knocking the men across the field and off of logan. their bodies crashed into other, giving logan ample enough time to pounce on them and fuck them up.

“get in the barn!” he yelled out, slicing them to bits and pieces—and just like before, you appeared in the barn.

–—

you were in there for quite a while, pacing back and forth; wondering what the hell was going on out there. the sounds of his grunting and the slicing of their skin could no longer be heard. you didn’t care what happened to them, they deserved hell or worse, all you cared about was logan.

the doors to the barn creaked open and you eyed it, but you relaxed when you saw him stomping in. your eyes watered at his bloody torso and you sprinted over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “baby, i was so worried about you!”

that nickname rolled off your tongue and he caught it, pulling you back to look at your face. he held you by your chin, puffing up your cheeks, before kissing your soft plump lips—while you gladly accepted his. the kiss was hot and a little sloppy. and when he pulled away from you, a trail spit following.

“been wanting to do that for awhile now. go ahead and take those off, you won’t be needing them,” he tugged on the hem of your shorts and you obliged. you quickly stripped them off along with your sunset colored thong, a web of your essence following. you were beyond soaked and he knew the moment he appeared in the barn, he could smell it.

you sat on a nearby haystack, spreading your legs and your slick coated lips, rubbing your sensitive little love bud. “please logan, wan’ you so bad.”

the lust that had built up over time, had overflowed and erupted; causing a change within you. and he loved it.

he watched with a lust filled glint in his eyes, his cock growing in his sweatpants as he watched you play with your pretty pussy—his desire and longing for you growing by the second. “think you can handle it, princess?” he asked and you nodded, slipping a finger in your aching hole; a sweet mewl leaving your lips.

he then replaced his finger with his fat leaky tip, pressing it right at your entrance; causing you to clamp down on nothing. he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp and tear prick at the corner of your eyes.

“ ‘s too big—fuck!” that was an understatement. logan was huge, thick even. he was painfully big, but that’s exactly what you wanted. to be fucked dumb by his big fat painful cock.

“i know baby, but you can take it. yeah? —atta girl” he coached, splitting your cunt open as he pushed through, his tips inches away from kissing your cervix. logan leaned down and kissed away your tears, his cock pressing deep inside of you. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing his thumb to your clit; causing you to shudder.

the more he rubbed and he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his cock was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your wetness. logan watched your tits bounce out of your top with lidded eyes and the animal in him couldn’t help it anymore. his claws unsheathed and wrapped your top open—shredding it completely and freeing your jiggly mounds.

“so fucking—pretty. fuck, my pretty girl taking me so well!” his praises had you gushing all over him, clamping down on him as you started to see specks of white. you had never had an orgasm like this nor have you ever came so quickly before. none of the boys in college made you cum like this. but, that was the difference between logan and them. they were boys and he was a man.

“please don’t stop. please~” you begged, pulling him close while your orgasm flowed out of you. he grunted in your ear and your cunt weeped at the noise, his hips never faltering. “wasn’t planning on it sweetheart.” he moved his head down and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like he was trying to pull milk from it.

you whined and bucked your hips up to match his thrusts, your clit pressing into him—adding more pleasure to your fucked out body.

you clung to him with each powerful thrust, his hips spanking your ass making a clapping sound erupt through the barn; accompanying your series of moans. your next orgasm approached by the minute, but this one felt different and you lowered your hips trying to back away.

“wait—wait, feels like m’gonna pee—“ but he didn’t budge, he stayed inside of your pussy—still drilling your cunt stilly—and let your nipple go with a pop; a web of saliva followed after him.

“just let go, trust me baby.” he smirked and gripped your hips, hazel eyes dancing over yours. you watched the dog tags around his neck jump with each pump, sending you straight to nirvana. your body shook as you let go, this orgasm different from your last; it was way more intense and you loved the feeling.

a clear stream of liquid splash out of you and onto his low stomach, pushing him out of you—drenching the hay bale beneath you. he slapped his cock onto your sensitive clit, coating himself in your essence.

when you finally calmed down, he leaned down and kissed your lips—hunger laced in it—his hips grinding against yours. and that’s when you realized something. he was still hard. you pulled away and looked at his swollen cock, shiny with your love. “baby, you didn’t get to cum?”

he pecked your lips some more, his tip now laying onto your belly, “just wanted to get you off first. see how pretty you looked when you came on my dick.”

you practically drooled at his words, eyes glued onto his girth that laid on your tummy—small hand fisting it, causing him to growl. “come sit your pretty ass down on my dick and ride me~”.

and that’s what you did for the next couple of minutes, riding him on the hay bale where he just made you squirt for the first time. webs of your messy fluids sticking to his thighs while you bounced and grinded on him—your boobs jiggling all in his face.

logan was losing himself under you, his cock twitching with each movement. he couldn’t wait anymore. he so desperately wanted to let go inside you. wanted to see your belly swollen in a few months with his kid and fuck another one right into you.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed.

you rolled your hips, teasing him while leaning down to kiss him—tongues melting on one another. you pulled away and bit your lip, eyeing him with desire. the way he made you feel had you wanting more and he felt the same way. “take me inside.”

—

the two of you laid on his navy blue sheets, in each other’s arms, after a few more rounds of lovemaking. you toyed with his dog tags while he stared at your pretty face, loving how you looked with the moon glowing on you.

“your dad would kill me if he came back and saw us like this.” he spoke and you looked at him and smiled—getting on top of him and laying down on his muscled body.

“nah, i don’t think so. he’ll know i'm in good hands. ill be with the guy he’s going to sell the farm to, after all.” one of his beautiful thick eyebrows raised in response and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“read the official letter in his office, he wants to sell the farm to you. im all for it. keep you close so we can have a litter of mutant babies together—now that i am one~”.

now it was his turn to smile and kiss on you. he rubbed circles on your back and pecked more kisses to your plump lips, “you’d look so pretty having my kids, with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to yours. i could see us turning that barn into our house, waking up next to you every day…”

“you can see all of that? you sure the wolverine isn’t a clairvoyant?” you joked and he roared with laughter. you smiled at him, so happy and content with every. so happy that you had to tell him, “i love you.”

his hazel eyes with hints of green widened and his smile became wider, “i love you more, doll.”

[anarchistmemecollective]

sorry but this is important. in a globalized world with more than enough food for all crop failures do not need to lead to starvation.

the world food program estimates it would cost about $40 billion to end global hunger for a year. less than a quarter of elon musk’s current net worth, or less than half of what joe biden has spent funding the genocide of palestinians.

even if there was not enough food to feed everyone, as may happen with climate change and ecological collapse, the choice of who does and does not eat will always be political. the distribution of power is the definition of politics, and that includes the power to eat.

remember that during the irish ‘famine’ ireland was a net exporter of food. it was the bread basket of england. it was only the potatoes that the irish relied on for subsistence that failed. and i’m pretty sure even the blight itself was political, a result of human monocultural farming practices. potatoes aren’t even native to ireland, or europe.

[reality-detective]

Source: 👇

I have been showing you it's coming, it's real and it's obvious. You can löök it up 👀 Löök what's happening in Idaho with the potato farms, the chicken and egg farms across the country and the bee keepers. 🤔

[reasonsforhope]

"The transformation of ancestral lands into intensive monoculture plantations has led to the destruction of Guatemala’s native forests and traditional practices, as well as loss of livelihoods and damage to local health and the environment.

A network of more than 40 Indigenous and local communities and farmer associations are developing agroecology schools across the country to promote the recovery of ancestral practices, educate communities on agroecology and teach them how to build their own local economies.

Based on the traditional “campesino a campesino” (from farmer to farmer) method, the organization says it has improved the livelihoods of 33,000 families who use only organic farming techniques and collectively protect 74,000 hectares (182,858 acres) of forest across Guatemala.

Every Friday at 7:30 a.m., María Isabel Aguilar sells her organic produce in an artisanal market in Totonicapán, a city located in the western highlands of Guatemala. Presented on a handwoven multicolor blanket, her broccoli, cabbage, potatoes and fruits are neatly organized into handmade baskets.

Aguilar is in a cohort of campesinos, or small-scale farmers, who took part in farmer-led agroecology schools in her community. As a way out of the cycle of hunger and poverty, she learned ecological principles of sowing, soil conservation, seed storage, propagation and other agroecological practices that have provided her with greater autonomy, self-sufficiency and improved health.

“We learned how to develop insecticides to fend off pests,” she said. The process, she explained, involves a purely organic cocktail of garlic, chile, horsetail and other weeds and leaves, depending on what type of insecticide is needed. “You want to put this all together and let it settle for several days before applying it, and then the pests won’t come.”

“We also learned how to prepare fertilizer that helps improve the health of our plants,” she added. “Using leaves from trees or medicinal plants we have in our gardens, we apply this to our crops and trees so they give us good fruit.”

The expansion of large-scale agriculture has transformed Guatemala’s ancestral lands into intensive monoculture plantations, leading to the destruction of forests and traditional practices. The use of harmful chemical fertilizers, including glyphosate, which is prohibited in many countries, has destroyed some livelihoods and resulted in serious health and environmental damage.

To combat these trends, organizations across the country have been building a practice called campesino a campesino (from farmer to farmer) to revive the ancient traditions of peasant families in Guatemala. Through the implementation of agroecology schools in communities, they have helped Indigenous and local communities tackle modern-day rural development issues by exchanging wisdom, experiences and resources with other farmers participating in the program.

Keeping ancestral traditions alive

The agroecology schools are organized by a network of more than 40 Indigenous and local communities and farmer associations operating under the Utz Che’ Community Forestry Association. Since 2006, they have spread across several departments, including Totonicapán, Quiché, Quetzaltenango, Sololá and Huehuetenango, representing about 200,000 people — 90% of them Indigenous.

“An important part of this process is the economic autonomy and productive capacity installed in the communities,” said Ilse De León Gramajo, project coordinator at Utz Che’. “How we generate this capacity and knowledge is through the schools and the exchange of experiences that are facilitated by the network.”

Utz Che’, which means “good tree” in the K’iche’ Mayan language, identifies communities in need of support and sends a representative to set up the schools. Around 30-35 people participate in each school, including women and men of all ages. The aim is to facilitate co-learning rather than invite an “expert” to lead the classes.

The purpose of these schools is to help farmers identify problems and opportunities, propose possible solutions and receive technical support that can later be shared with other farmers.

The participants decide what they want to learn. Together, they exchange knowledge and experiment with different solutions to thorny problems. If no one in the class knows how to deal with a certain issue, Utz Che’ will invite someone from another community to come in and teach...

Part of what Utz Che’ does is document ancestral practices to disseminate among schools. Over time, the group has compiled a list of basics that it considers to be fundamental to all the farming communities, most of which respond to the needs and requests that have surfaced in the schools.

Agroecology schools transform lives

Claudia Irene Calderón, based at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, is an expert in agroecology and sustainable food systems in Guatemala. She said she believes the co-creation of knowledge is “key to balance the decision-making power that corporations have, which focus on profit maximization and not on climate change mitigation and adaptation.”

“The recovery and, I would add, revalorization of ancestral practices is essential to diversify fields and diets and to enhance planetary health,” she said. “Recognizing the value of ancestral practices that are rooted in communality and that foster solidarity and mutual aid is instrumental to strengthen the social fabric of Indigenous and small-scale farmers in Guatemala.”

Through the implementation of agroecology schools across the country, Utz Che’ says it has improved the livelihoods of 33,000 families. In total, these farmers also report that they collectively protect 74,000 hectares (182,858 acres) of forest across Guatemala by fighting fires, monitoring illegal logging and practicing reforestation.

In 2022, Utz Che’ surveyed 32 women who had taken part in the agroecology school. All the women had become fully responsible for the production, distribution and commercialization of their products, which was taught to them in agroecology schools. Today, they sell their produce at the artisanal market in Totonicapán.

The findings, which highlight the many ways the schools helped them improve their knowledge, also demonstrate the power and potential of these schools to increase opportunities and strengthen the independence of women producers across the country...

The schools are centered around the idea that people are responsible for protecting their natural resources and, through the revitalization of ancestral practices, can help safeguard the environment and strengthen livelihoods."

-via Mongabay News, July 7, 2023

[bamfkeeper]

Sweet Iced Tea.

RQ: 'Could I give you a penny for your thoughts on nightcrawler with a southern s/o. I’m from the deep south and He Is So Dear To Me. I just wanna feed him and make him go horseback riding with me.' - @leon-de-la-vega

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | Warnings: None

A/N: Half my family comes from the south, so I get this hard. Written as headcannons because this idea can be so versatile. Please ignore mistakes it's 4am ;; Dankeee

Kurt is very interested in your lifestyle. He grew up in a circus where the animals were kept in poor conditions and abused, so when he hears about you taking care of animals he is very intrigued.

He's a little nervous, not sure what to expect, but upon seeing your horses and how you treat them, he's pleasantly surprised.

"Mein Gott, they are so shiny," Kurt pets one of their manes, grinning at the horse.

He would adore horseback riding, he'd be a little skeptical at first. He'd be afraid to make the horse uncomfortable, or doing something wrong, but you promise him everything is fine and you both end up having a lovely ride.

There is a joke to be made here...

He helps with the animals if you need it, and he gladly lends a hand around the farm if you have one. Helping clean, feed the animals, collecting tools or following you around like a puppy to aid in anything you ask.

He'd love the food. He eagerly asks questions about the foods you eat. He loves corn and potatoes, since German meals are often hardy, it's not much different.

Brisket?? God he loves it. Sometimes he helps you cook too, but he mostly likes to watch while holding your hips.

You have a game where you hold up ingredients and he says their name in German. You try to repeat it, often mispronouncing, but he doesn't have the heart to correct you.

He tries on your hats and clothes, which are too big on him, but he's absolutely adorable in them.

He has a hard time learning the lingo.

You have to explain to him the terms since English isn't his first language anyway, and some terms in English confuse him. Now hearing Southern ones further makes it difficult for him to understand.

"Liebling...what does druthers mean? I cannot find it anywhere..." Kurt frowned, looking to you with confusion. "Und dog won't hunt? Dogs do not hunt, they eat inside? They are not wolves anymore."

His first time trying sweet iced tea, his eyes about bug out. Especially when you made it fresh. "Ach, das ist wunderbar!" Kurt practically downs the glass, looking expectantly for a refill.

He loves when you fuss over him. It can be over anything, a wound, what he's wearing for the weather, how much he's eating, etc. You fuss over him so lovingly, it's how you show your care and he is more than happy to sit and be the center of your attention.

Kurt gets used to the unique scents of your lifestyle too, and eventually he seeks out smells of your home and you to feel comforted when he's at the mansion.

You're kind and respectful as you were raised, and he is drawn in by your warmth and generous hospitality. You are so hard working and loyal, you never expect anything back for kindness.

You had so many traits he adored, and it only made him love you even more.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedbylight

Forgot which comic this image is from, please let me know! Other photos from pinterest.

[alexanderwales]

Alright, here's my dream Stardew Valley style game, designed for my own tastes.

You come to a small town with the usual twenty to thirty people. It's in the middle of nowhere. It's a fantasy town, and no one actually farms anymore, partly because it's only questionably profitable, partly because a lot of the knowledge has been lost. Instead, everyone uses these magic doodads which are very powerful but also very limited. The tavernkeeper has a doodad that makes him a single kind of weak ale and a single variety of off-tasting wine. The clothier has basically a square mile of linen to work with, and everyone wears her drab clothes. Tools are made from a doodad that the blacksmith owns, not even made of any actual metal, just a material that wears away after a month and needs to be replaced by a new copy from the blacksmith's doodad. People get their meals from the doodads. They get their medical checkups. It's all a bit shit.

Because I'm a worldbuilder at heart, I would have this all exist in the wake of a large-scale war that depleted the town of its fighting-age population, with the doodads being a sort of government program to ensure that more of the lifeblood of the town could be drained away. And for there to be some reason for the town to continue existing, perhaps the government is harvesting some resources necessary in the creation of doodads. That's enough for a pro-doodad faction and maybe some minor drama with them, though I do like the idea that the only reason things are Like This is because there was a war and things got bad. It's not necessarily a bleak town, but there's definitely a listlessness to it, a "what's the point".

So you're a farmer, but no one is really a farmer anymore. Maybe there are a few books, but you don't learn farming from books, you learn it from practical experience; that's a lot of what this game is about. When you start, there's no one to buy seeds from, there's just a bunch of wilderness where farms once stood, now all long overgrown.

So you go out and forage, for a start, and you clear the land, and you pay attention to the plants and how they can be used, and you start in on making recipes with them, maybe with the help of your grandfather's old, partially incomplete books. You find some wild corn that's a descendant of the old times. You find some tomato seeds in an urn. You discover potatoes because you see them dug up by a wild boar, which itself was once a domesticated animal.

In my ideal game, you need to pay attention to the soil quality, to how far apart things are planted, to what crops work well together. Farming is a matter of companion planting and polycultures. You get some chickens by giving them consistent feed, and you keep them around because they're natural pest control. Your climbing beans climb the stalks of your maize. You're attracting pollinators. (From a gameplay perspective, yeah, we probably put this all into a grid, and you have crop bonuses from adjacencies, and emergent gameplay that comes from all that, some plants providing shade, others providing nitrogen fixing.) You're a scientist making observations about the plants, maybe with your incomplete book giving you confirmation on the nature of all your crops once you hit certain production goals or a perfect specimen or whatever.

Cooking is the same. There has got to be a system that I like better than just "combine tomato with bread to get tomato bread". I'm pretty sure that it's some variant of the actual process I use when cooking, which is making sure that things are properly cooked, balancing flavors against each other, adding in a little salt or acidity or umami or whatever. Time in the kitchen, in this game, is often about making meals, ensuring that if you have a fatty piece of meat you have some asparagus that's coated with lemon to go with it. (From a gameplay perspective, I think building the dish once is probably sufficient and it can be automated after that, and building the meal is the same. I don't want to play this minigame every time I'm cooking a dish, I just want to play it a single time until I have good knowledge of the best way to grill a BBQ chicken breast with a homemade sauce.)

But if we're having a little minigame here where we pay attention to how long we're cooking the kale to make sure that it's the right texture, and we're paying attention to abstractified mouthfeel and palette, then we can get something else for free: variation. See, you're not just cooking to get an S grade, you're cooking for people with different tastes. The cobbler has a sweet tooth, the librarian loves fruity things, the mayor cannot stand fish, that sort of thing. From a gameplay perspective, maybe we represent this with a radar graph with some specific favorite and least favorite individual flavors, and maybe it's visible to the player, but the important thing is that player gets feedback and have a reason to strive for both "good" and "perfection" and some of this is going to depend on the quality of the ingredients.

And this is, gradually, how the town is brought back into the fullness of life. You're not just cooking for these people, you're also selling them food, and they're making their own recipes, and all the stuff that's not food is making their businesses not suck anymore. After the first test keg of ale goes swimmingly, the tavernkeeper wants more, a lot more, and puts in an order for hops, wheat, grapes, anything he can use to make things that will improve nights at the tavern. The clothier will skeptically take in wool and spin her own yarn, and then eagerly want more, because how awesome is it to have a new textile? There's a chemist who is extremely interested in dyes and paints, and wants you to bring him all kinds of things to see what might be viable for going beyond the ~3 colors that the doodads can provide.

So by year two, if you're doing things right, you're the lynchpin of the revivalist movement. People are now moving to the town, for the first time in decades, because they hear that you're there and doing interesting things with the wilderness. Maybe there are other farmers following in your wake, but maybe it's just new characters who are specifically coming because a crate of wine was shipped to the capital city. Maybe some of them bring new techniques for you, or a handful of plants from a botanical garden, and there are new elements for the minigames, or maybe some automation for the stuff that's old hat.

I think something that's important to me is that there's a reason for the crops you plant and the things you do. I always like these games best when it feels like I'm doing something for someone, when I can look at a plot of cabbages and think "ah, those are the cabbages I owe to Leon". Where these games are at their worst, everything is entirely fungible and I've planted eight million blueberries because they have the highest ROI.

And yeah, in most of these games, there are other minigames like fishing and mining and logging and crafting, and since this is just a blog post and not a game, I definitely could massively expand an already sizeable scope.

I think for mining the player would use doodads of their own, and maybe you could make a mining minigame out of that, using the same planting tile system to instead create an automated ore harvesting machine that plumbs the depths of the earth (possibly dealing with rocks of different hardness, the water table, and other challenges along the way).

Fishing is a question of understanding the different fish species, what they eat, where they congregate, and then setting nets or lines, since I have never met a fishing minigame I really enjoyed. Again, there's some idea that the player is gaining information over time, building up a profile of these fish, noticing that some of them go nuts when it rains, understanding the spawning season, that they go to deeper water when it's cold, etc.

Crafting really depends on what you're crafting, but if you're reintroducing traditional artisan processes to this town, then people are going to need tools and machines and things. I'm not sure I know what a proper crafting game looks like. The only experience I have to draw on is wood shop, where I made wooden boxes, cutting boards, and picture frames. Since this is an engineering-lite puzzle-lite game, you could maybe do something in that vein, e.g. defining a number of steps that get you the correct thing you're trying to make, but ... eh. I love the idea of designing a chicken coop, for example, or building a trellis if I want my climbing beans to not need maize, or whatever, but I don't know how you actually implement that. There are definitely voxel-based and snap-to-grid games where you build bases, and I tend to find that fun ... but it's mostly cosmetic, for the obvious reason that doing it any other way than cosmetic requires programmatic evaluation, which is difficult and maybe unintuitive. The closest I think I've seen is ... maybe Tears of the Kingdom? Contraption building? But I don't know how you translate that to a farming game. Maybe I should ask my wife about this, because she's always doing little projects around the house (an outdoor enclosure for our cats, a 3D-printed holder for our living room keyboard, a mounting for our TV).

Making an interesting crafting system is difficult, which is why pretty much no one has done it.

And if I'm talking pie in the sky, without concern for budget or scope, I want the villagers to all have a mammoth amount of writing for them. I want petty little dramas and weird obsessions, lives that evolve with or without my input, rudimentary dialog trees that let me nudge things in different directions. This is just an unbelievable amount of work on its own, it would be crazy, but I would love having a tiny little town game where sometimes other people would fall in love. I would like to be invited to a wedding, maybe one that happened because I encouraged the chemist to hang out with the clothier, and in the course of working together on dyes, they fell in love. With twenty people in town and another ten that come in over the course of the game if you hit the right triggers, I do think this is just a matter of having a ton of time/budget. You write tons and tons of dialogue so there's not much that's repeated, you have some lines of conversation between characters that are progressed through, you have others that trigger off of events, and then you have personal relationships between NPCs that can be progressed through time or with player intervention. Give single characters a pool of love interests, have their affections depend on their routine which depends on what's changed in town ... very difficult to do without spending loads and loads of time on it though.

Anyway, that's one of my dream games. No one is ever going to make it, it would be a niche of a niche, and as scoped here, is too much for a small team to ever actually finish, let alone polish. But it's the sort of thing I'm imagining in my head when I think about playing Stardew Valley and its successors.

[hlficlibrary]

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩷 Light, Spark and Fire (series) by green_feelings / @greenfeelings {E, 239k}

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

🩷 Say Something by @kingsofeverything {E, 105k}

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

🩷 Ace of Spades (series) by @allwaswell16 {E, 90k}

Living as a sheltered omega in a farming village has not prepared Harry for life aboard the most notorious pirate ship to sail the Atlantic.

Or Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

🩷 The Pros and Cons of Breathing by @hellolovers13 {E, 81k}

Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday, so when he's betrothed to Prince Louis, he's anxious about having to leave his life behind, but hopeful for a happy marriage.

The hope doesn't last long, with his husband avoiding him at all costs and Harry being left to fend for himself.

Can he find happiness even in a broken marriage?

🩷 I like the way you say my name (when you soak it in grace) by louisismycat / @liminalkittyfics {E, 73k}

“It’s like I’m fucking orbiting around you, you know? Like you’re some huge, beautiful planet, and I’m a piece of space junk lucky enough to be pulled in by you somehow, and now I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. And I really fucking don’t want to leave.”

OR Louis is transferred to a new city to temporarily cover for his counterpart while he is on maternity leave for the next six months.

His new co-workers talk endlessly about Harry, the omega who he’s covering for. And Louis finds himself jealous of whatever alpha as snatched him up.

Until he learns Harry is actually an unmated omega three months out from becoming a single parent.

🩷 Si Pudiera Volar by @softfonds {E, 69k}

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

🩷 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 65k}

Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes.

Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

🩷 and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain {E, 56k}

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

🩷 Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren {E, 42k}

Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

🩷 crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger {G, 41k}

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next.What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

🩷 Endgame by @brightgolden {E, 38k}

Harry has been told all his life how grateful he should be for being born as a male omega, and how blessed their people were because the heir to the throne would be carried by The King.

What they neglected to tell Harry was what would happen if he failed to become pregnant.

OR

Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🩷 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter {M, 38k}

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

🩷 dip you in honey by delsicle / @eeveedel {E, 28k}

Princess Harry, the pearl of England, is set to be married to the youngest prince of France in just six months. Anxious about his performance on his wedding night, he enlists the help of his loyal handmaiden Louis to help him practice everything he needs to know

Omega/Omega AU

🩷 It's Been Ages by @2tiedships2 {NR, 13k}

“We need to talk,” Niall said as he plopped down on Louis’ bed. “It’s you and Harry. You like him, he likes you, it’s a match made in heaven and you will one day be mates,”

Louis shook his head in exasperation. “If you’ve been watching, you would see that Harry is interested in, like, alpha alphas. Not me.”

“What the fuck is an alpha alpha?” Niall asked with furrowed brows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis said, giving Niall a pointed look.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

🩷 I've Always Liked the Fireworks by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {T, 12k}

When alphas and omegas reach the age of twenty-one they are required to attend a Proving Day ceremony. Omegas watch as alphas do their best to compete in events, show off their skills, and prove how good a mate they can really be. The whole thing is a bit ridiculous, but Louis Tomlinson has always dreamed of finding his mate. He's got two unsuccessful Sheffield Proving Days under his belt and decides to go for the much more competitive one in Manchester. His goal is to play his best, leave it all out on the pitch, and hope that one of the omegas watching just happens to be his mate.

🩷 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic {E, 12k}

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🩷 Just Jump by @jaerie {E, 9k}

Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

🩷 a body wishes to be held & held by @turnyourankle {E, 9k}

Harry wants to return the favour after Louis helps him out with his heat.

🩷 How Much My Heart Depends by @lululawrence {NR, 6k}

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

🩷 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992 {M, 5k}

Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

And now, he's on his honeymoon. Louis is but a door away, waiting for him.

Honestly, he doesn't understand why he's nervous.

[farmerstrend]

Boosting Potato Productivity in Kenya: AGRA Unveils Initiative to Support Potato Value Chain in Kenya

In a move to increase potato productivity in Kenya, AGRA in collaboration with the National Potato Council of Kenya (NPCK), Egerton University, Kenya Agricultural and Livestock Research Organization (KALRO) and County Governments have unveiled a programme dubbed the Kenya Sustainable Potato Initiative (KSPI). L-R, Dr. Moses Nyongesa, Centre Director KALRO Tigoni, John Macharia, Country Director…

[horsebark]

ways to express your nonhumanity without gear

good quality gear can be pricey (for good reason!) but that doesn’t mean you can’t express yourself in other ways. here’s what i have personally found to be helpful! add yours in the notes!

-clothing & accessories:

being a horse makes this somewhat easy as western wear and horse shirts are aplenty. beyond just “shirt with your theriotype on it” think about what makes you feel like your type. for me this is loose clothing, especially a boxy “potato sack” kind of dress. or in colder months, jackets with a fur/sherpa lining make me feel like im wearing an insulated saddle. again, easier cause im a horse but if im going somewhere fancy i get inspired by dressage horses and show ponies. accessories that make me feel horse like are: chunky jewelry, bangles, stuff that makes noise when i walk! also i had to get new headphones, so i got them in a grey and brown option that reminded me of horse tack.

i thrift pretty much everything and this has helped me find really unique pieces as well as cheaper stuff that i don’t feel bad modifying to be more horse like.

-hair:

my partner does both of our hair. we’re both nonhuman and try desperately to make our external forms match the internal form. for me this looks like cropping the sides of my hair, and sometimes putting it in a row of buns down the back. bangs have also been helpful. for him as a crocodile and canid, this looks like matching his hair to his coat color and a choppy/angular haircut.

-piercings/tattoos:

ive talked a little about this before on my blog, but truly piercings and tattoos have eased my species dysphoria so much. i haven’t got any with direct relation to my species yet, but they all help me recognize my skin is mine. in the future i’d like to get a large gauge labret and stretch it, as the oral feeling would remind me of a horse bit. i’d also like to get a coinslot in one of my ears to hang an identification tag in. specific kinds of stretched ear jewelry make me feel horselike too, like (obviously) ear saddles. i also plan on getting a horse tattoo or two, and some horse shoe tattoos on my feet. body mods are expensive but last forever.

-body language & movements:

research into equine behavior has helped me notice what i already do that’s horse like and figure out what i can add. i struggle with speech sometimes so this has been helpful in boosting my range of nonverbal communication. i also watch gait videos and practice them. practicing how your type navigates its environment does not have to be through quads! i don’t do quads because it feels less like how a horse would move. biking helps! something about the way my knees pedal a bike feels equine.

-visit a hearthome:

go camping, see the desert, star gaze. what makes you feel at home? for me these places are: stock shows, rodeos, horse races, antique malls, rocky terrain, and feed stores. sometimes farms give tours to the public. ones not related to being a horse include: dawn/dusk, ice/ocean (this one has only been affirmed by going to an exhibit about orcas), and for some reason the electronics section at a thrift store. if you wouldn’t be able to visit a hearthome for whatever reason, message me and let’s figure something creative out!

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

chapter 6

Chapter 7

“Sevika, slow down!” you demand, your legs straining to keep up with her broad strides. She’s storming through the street towards the grocer, weaving through people and dragging you behind her.

She huffs, slowing her pace marginally, still practically stomping toward the grocer. You eye her with concern – she had been fine a moment ago when she found you, granted she had been grumpy then, too, but not this grumpy. If she notices the weird look you’re giving her, she doesn’t call you out – in fact, she doesn’t say anything at all. She just keeps on power-walking to the grocer, dragging you along behind her by a hand around your arm. If you were more fool-hearted, you would almost call her jealous. Not that you’d call her out on it; you’re fairly certain if you did, her anger would come to a head, and she’d tear a strip off you in public. Or make you sleep in the Last Drop.

You’re not quite sure which is worse.

There aren’t many people in the grocery store, which puts you at ease. The street is swarming with people, and the quiet relief of the store feels like an oasis in a desert. Taking your time, you pick out everything you can think of without Sevika’s help (the most input she gives is when you ask yes or no questions about her cooking implements). Various breakfast items, what you’ll need for dinners, and, of course, tonight’s dinner. You decided to cook with steak, baked potatoes, baked beans and roasted carrots. Much to your delight, the baked beans had been canned by a local resident! You were beginning to doubt if canned beans really lasted longer than nine years.

Sevika remains silent and stormy throughout the entire grocery trip. Even as you’re marvelling at various canned foods, jerky, farm-fresh raw meat and vegetables you thought you’d never see before. No matter how many potatoes you shove in her face, grinning from ear to ear, Sevika continues to grouch. At least she carries the shopping basket for you.

Then, you grab a jar of honey off the shelf… or at least try to. She snatches it out of your hand and places it back on the shelf.

“We have honey at home, darling,” she growls, glaring down at you.

“Oh, so she can speak!” you huff, not quite willing to cave and let her smooth the last twenty minutes over. She can’t just sulk in silence for as long as she wants and then tease you with the pet name Grayson used!  

“Don’t need to waste my money on my own honey,” Sevika mutters, pushing you forward by nudging your back with the edge of the shopping basket.

You huff out a sigh and keep walking, picking up a few more things as you head to the till. Mostly, some spices and garlic to add a little flavour to tonight’s dinner. The silent treatment takes two, and if she wants to be a grouch, you can match her level.

The young woman working the till isn’t sure what to make of the two of you. She tries a friendly greeting, but when neither of you gives her a response more than a head nod, she fumbles, trying to make light conversation while awkwardly checking you out. When neither of you responds, she clams up and avoids making eye contact. The groceries are bagged and purchased in silence – a silence that follows you home.

Sevika puts away various groceries as you swipe back the ones you need for dinner. Her eyes sparkle at the steaks as if she’d expected you to keep them for another day or something foolish. Yet, when you don’t comment on her reaction, she storms off with a glass of whiskey as if she’d been waiting for you to bridge the gap. You, of all people! You weren’t the one throwing a hangry hissy-fit over nothing!

You place a chair in the entryway to the kitchen. It’s not much of a deterrent, but it gets your point across.

Luckily, cooking requires love and concentration. The Sevika’s grumpy attitude melts away from you like the butter in the carrot’s dish. Popping the window open, you let the chirping of birds and someone playing the guitar in the distance filter into the house. It lightens your mood considerably, giving you something to listen to instead of the tense silence of the house. Still playing the silent game, you resist the urge to hum along as you dance about the kitchen, grabbing spices, pots, pans and cooking utensils. A very generous spoonful of honey is added to the carrots and the baked beans, as well as the steak pan. Periodically, you hear banging as Sevika storms around the house restlessly. You shrug it off – if she really wanted back in the kitchen, she can come apologize.

It isn’t until you’re adding the steak to the pan, letting it devour the bubbling butter, salt, rosemary, honey and garlic, that you hear a cough at the entryway to the kitchen. You tilt your head slightly to find Sevika standing just behind the chair. She’s clutching her barely touched glass of whiskey to her chest, shoulders shrunk forward, head bowed, and wearing clean clothes. A button-up plaid shirt with red and black stripes, a white tank top, a purple carabiner and a pair of blue jeans with more than a few holes in them. She’s definitely playing dirty – the unbuttoned plaid shirt draws your attention to her white tank top tucked into her pants. The same white tank top that does nothing to hide the fact she’s not wearing a bra underneath it, her nipples pressing indents into the fabric. If she hadn’t pissed you off so thoroughly, you might have jumped her bones then and there, potential rejection be damned.

“Can I… come in?” she mumbles, as if it isn’t her kitchen, in her house, and you’re not cooking with food she bought with her money.

“Why should I let you?” you bristle, your defensive attitude from earlier rearing its ugly head. You refuse to let her win – even going so far as to purposely fix your glare on her face and nothing else.

“Because… I’m sorry,” she spits like the words taste foul on her tongue.

“For?” you push, minding the steaks so you don’t overcook them.

She sighs heavily, staring down at her drink and swirling it in her glass. There’s a long, silent moment filled only with the hiss of the steaks before she looks up at you, eyes wet around the edges and her lips pursed into a mournful frown.

“For giving you the silent treatment. I shouldn’t have done that – I know how you are with crowds and people and all that. I know better than that,” Sevika whispers, barely audible over the steaks as you flip them over. Your heart aches at her words despite your brain screaming at you to be upset with her. She’s extending an olive branch, are you really petty enough to cling to anger after an apology…?

You scrutinize her for a moment longer than you should, letting her squirm under your gaze until she ducks her head again. It satisfies the prickly thing in your chest that is still upset at her. Finally, you relent and ask: “How do you like your steak cooked?” 

“Rare,” she grunts, moving the chair aside. When you make no move to stop her, she steps into the kitchen, sighing a little that she’d read between the lines correctly.

Her fingers cradle your hip as she looks over your shoulder, glass set off to the side. You can feel her press against your back, the lightest touch that consumes you like wildfire as she hums with approval.

“That looks perfect, sweetheart.”

“It better be, took me so long that it’s dark out now,” you say, nodding your head to the window where the stars are twinkling. “I’m sorry, Sev’, we might not be able to see your bees tonight.”

“Nah, I’ve got two headlamps, we’ll be alright. The bees won’t care much if we take a little peak at them when the sun’s not out… unless you’d prefer to wait until tomorrow? We could always go before my patrol – if you’re alright with getting up before my patrol, that is. It’s pretty early in the morning.”

“How about we smoke something tonight and see the bees tomorrow? I’ll have to get up with you anyway. Vander and Silco told me to partner up with you until my printing press is ready,” you inform her, plating the steaks. They don’t need that long, especially if Sevika wants hers rare.

You let the wording hang in the air, unintentional connotations lacing your poor choice of words.

“Printing press?” Sevika asks, skipping over the accidental bait entirely. You groan internally – she can press her boobs against the back of your neck, but she can’t take the hint that even your subconscious wants to eat her pussy?!

“I used to be an archivist before the apocalypse. I’m already trained in preserving old texts; it’s a fitting job to reprint old books and make new ones. Mostly survival guides and the like –“ you take the carrots out of the oven – “Grayson’s making me a printing press for free if I’ll reprint her romance novels.”

Sevika nearly chokes on the sip of the drink she had dared to take. “Yeah, uh, printing press is a good idea,” she chuckles awkwardly, face flushed red.

“I think so too – it will be nice to have something new to read! I miss books… though finding lesbian romance books was always way too difficult. The market was always oversaturated by straight romances, but finding a good lesbian one felt like a needle in a haystack,” you continue, plating the carrots, beans and baked potatoes.

“Right,” Sevika coughs, scratching the back of her neck. “Had better luck finding a book than a girlfriend, though. Lot of casual, not a lot of commitment back then.”

You nod your head in agreement as you pass her a plate. “Not like it’s much easier to find a girlfriend now,” you giggle, pilfering the silverware drawer for a spoon, fork and knife.

Sevika mumbles something too low to properly make out. You only catch ‘I’ and ‘change.’ The clatter of the silverware as she grabbed herself a set didn’t help either.

“What was that?” you ask innocently.

“Said we should eat outside, back porch’s got a table on it,” she says, face remaining impassive as she nods her head to the door.

“We’ve got to get you a dining table,” you sigh, shaking your head as you step outside.

“Didn’t need one before. Can’t cook,” Sevika grunts, following you outside.

You find an old table outside with a few chairs around it. They’re plastic lawn chairs – the kind that won’t break down for thousands of years. They look to have recently been hosed off, scrubbed down and “redecorated” with various spray-paint colours. You recognize Jinx’s handiwork from a mile away, giggling a little as you take a seat. At least the table is wooden, so it doesn’t buckle under your knife as you cut your steak. Far better than you would have fared trying to cut a steak on your lap in the living room.

Sevika sits down across from you, tucking into her steak. You don’t even notice you’re watching her with bated breath until she freezes, a spoonful of beans halfway to her mouth and furrows her brow at you.

“What? Something on my face?”

“Oh! Shit – sorry! It’s… been a while since I cooked for someone. I guess I wanted to make sure it didn’t taste like ass,” you confess, ducking your head a little to shove a carrot into your mouth. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan – your carrots really have been missing honey for the past few years.

Sevika is quiet for a moment, the only sound between the two of you is the clacking of silverware. You shove steak into your mouth to prevent yourself from devolving into a rambling mess of apologies pre-emptively in case she doesn’t like you’re cooking.

“Can you cook dinner every night?” Sevika practically moans, and you blink at her with wide eyes. “I, er, your cooking’s really good. Better than my shitty attempts. Way better. If you get your own place, I might just come over every night for dinner.”

“Well, Silco did say the printing shop will take priority over a house of my own… so I can cook dinner as long as you keep buying the groceries.”

“Careful making promises like that, or I might not let you leave,” Sevika jokes, chuckling to herself as she takes another bite of steak.

You try not to fixate on the fact she said, “if you get your own place,” or how she doesn’t even try to weasel her way out of sharing her house with you. You’re pretty sure if you do fixate on it, it will end with you stripping down to your birthday suit and crawling across the table… which would be super embarrassing and definitely get you kicked out of her house. In a desperate bid to distract your brain, you shove more steak and beans into your mouth, doing your damndest to focus on the taste of your delicious cooking and not the sight of Sevika’s nipples poking out from under her shirt.

Sevika does the dishes without even being asked. You try to help by drying them, but she shoes you away, instructing you to take a seat on the couch and relax. You find yourself fidgeting in your seat, wanting to do more. Dishes clatter in the sink as Sevika rinses them off, putting them away in their various homes. It comes to a head quickly – you bolt from your seat and dash upstairs. The least you can do is change out of your clothes into something more… comfortable (as a little payback for Sevika dressing down). You throw on a sundress that complements your skin and almost reaches your knees, paired with knee-high socks you usually wear under your long underwear in the colder months and a cute but nonchalant hairstyle that frames your face. Satisfied with your little ensemble, you head back downstairs and take a seat on the couch.

It's much easier to wait when you’re giddy with anticipation for when Sevika walks through the door rather than worrying if you should have insisted on helping. You fidget with the dress, adjusting it so that it rides up slightly on your thighs and that the sleeves hang off your shoulders. Maybe it’s a little much… maybe you’re still trying to get some payback after her silent treatment.

When Sevika finally does come to join you in the living room, she freezes in the doorway. For a long and tense moment, she doesn’t speak, and you’re worried you somehow crossed a line. Then her lips split in a smirk and she crosses over to behind the couch. The barest touch of her finger tilts your head back as she looms over you.

She opens her mouth to speak and then a nervous tremor passes through her. The smirk falters into a smile, and she asks: “Do you want to go out for a smoke? I’ve got some stronger stuff than you had last night.”

To say you’re disappointed would be an understatement. Yet, you try not to let her see it – the nervous tremor lingers in your mind, making your heart ache. If she feels more comfortable playing this game of cat and mouse, who are you to force her to move faster? Especially when the game is oh-so fun.

“Is that a promise? I haven’t been able to afford the stronger stuff in ages,” you giggle, resting your head against her inner arm as she continues to tilt your face back.

“’Course it is. Do you take me for a liar?” Sevika gruffs, and you giggle again, kissing her inner wrist gently before standing up. She swallows thickly, pulling her hand back to her side slowly.

“Well? What are you waiting for then?” you ask before flouncing your way to the back porch.

Sevika takes a minute before joining you, making you wait outside in the cool night air, watching the stars in civilization’s warm embrace. You get comfortable on the porch swing, letting it rock back and forth with a soft smile on your lips. The backdoor creeks open, and you barely lift your head as Sevika sits down next to you tentatively. Glancing to the side, you realize why; without thinking, you had only left enough space to your right, forcing her to sit with her most vulnerable side facing you. Her amputated arm doesn’t bother you at all. However, this is clearly bothering her. In an effort to reassure her, you squish closer, resting your head on her shoulder. She freezes for a moment, eyes flickering down to you with a pinched brow, dubbie held between her frozen fingers.

“You going to light that or what?” you grunt, hoping normalcy will smooth the tense moment over.

“Impatient, are we?” Sevika chuckles, placing the dubbie between her lips. The lighter flickers in the dark night, illuminating her face in a warm glow for the briefest moment.

She takes the first drag, blowing it out through her nose. You take it from her fingers as she passes it over to you, pulling a long drag that curls up into the sky upon your exhale. Sevika slowly starts to calm down, relaxing into the porch swing as you melt into her side. Eventually, her head slumps to the side and rests on top of yours as both your bodies become tingly and light. When the dubbie burns out, she squishes it into the ashtray and closes her eyes with a satisfied hum. You mimic her, swinging your legs over top of hers so you are partially sitting in her lap. She chuckles and rests her hand on your legs, thumb stroking your bare skin. Worming your arm along the back of the porch swing, you play with the hairs growing at the base of her skull, twisting them around your fingers.

The night chitters and stretches on, coyotes howling in the distance, horses braying in the stables, and crickets chirping. You sigh with relief, shutting your eyes and letting the safety of Zaun wrap around you. Sevika hums in agreement, kissing the top of your head absentmindedly. In your chest, your heart flutters at the gesture, wanting to push up and meld your lips against hers until your bodies become one. Instead, you remain cuddled up against her side, hand slowly snaking around her torso to hold her waist.

“Sevika,” you start, and she hums in acknowledgement. “I know this is a personal question – so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. But… everyone keeps avoiding me about how you lost your arm –“ Sevika stiffens against you, her thumb ceasing – “You don’t owe me an explanation. Honestly, I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want me to. I’m here to listen if you do, though.”

“Jeez, you really know how to ruin a perfect high,” Sevika jokes, huffing out a forced chuckle.

“Sorry, you don’t –“

“Nah, it’s alright. Kinda one of those things I don’t like telling people, and I don’t like being asked, but you’re cute, so I’ll let you get away with it. So long as you promise not to tell Jinx.”

“Why?”

“Because she thinks I lost it in the explosion saving her and Vi’s asses, and that’s how she’s going to remember it until she’s old enough to not feel guilty about what actually happened. This is something her dads and Vi decided on – I’d tell the little shit if I didn’t think they were going to murder me for it,” Sevika explains soberly, squeezing your knee.

“I won’t tell her, I promise,” you murmur, continuing to play with the tiny strands of her hair.

“Good,” Sevika grunts, nodding her head. “I lost it back when the world went to shit. I was working at the bar when a few of the patrons turned into the gone. Back then, we didn’t know what an incubator or stumbler even was – people came in sick or ravenous all the time. They paid their tabs and tipped well, who were we to turn them away? But, then that ravenous hunger turned from any food to anything and all of a sudden, Silco was screaming because a patron just tried to eat his leg. Vander got his gun; I ran upstairs to get the kids. That message came through just moments after I’d gotten them from their beds. Powder saw it – er, Jinx used to go by Powder… it’s a long story – anyway, Powder saw the message and started freaking out. I was so focused on her breakdown that I didn’t notice Milo and Clagger were…” she trails of and reaches for another dubbie, her fingers shaking.

You help her light it, your heart aching in your chest. You hadn’t heard those names mentioned before. If this story is going where you think you aren’t sure, you want to know. The infection had two stages before it got bad: incubators and stumblers. Incubators are just sick – fighting off the infection but not yet succumbed. They can’t turn anyone. Stumblers are trapped in their own bodies, ravenous and eating anything (even garbage) with the exception of flesh. It wasn’t until they worsened into “the Gone” that they started eating flesh, with many widely speculating that the person they once were no longer existed.

After a beat, Sevika continues, passing you the dubbie: “Milo and Clagger had been sick for a while before then. We had thought they’d gotten better when their appetites returned. It wasn’t until… it wasn’t until I was up there, too distracted by comforting Powder, that one of them lunged at me, and I knew. Vi helped me fight them off, but I could see in her eyes that those were still her brothers – adopted be damned. We hadn’t even noticed that Powder had grabbed one of her experiments until she had lugged it at the ‘people’ attacking Vander downstairs. Then it all went to shit. I grabbed both of them, trying to shield them from the blast as the bar went up in flames. Vander and I barely got everyone out in a frenzy of adrenaline. Grayson showed up with a police van and shouted us to get in – we didn’t think twice; the bar was burning, and the world was ending. Thought it was a police evacuation at first, until she admitted she’d stolen the van to get people to safety when the police system crumbled. We drove all day and night to get out of that city, the car deathly silent until we were sure it was safe to breathe.”

Sevika’s voice starts to waver, and she breaks off, taking another heavy drag before continuing: “We stopped at an abandoned town for supplies. My arm was killing me, so I rolled up the sleeve and found a fucking bite mark sprouting purple veins. Silco caught me, and the two of us shared a horrified look – we used to watch old zombie movies together on the bar’s shitty little TV during slow days. He kept the kids distracted while Grayson and Vander cut my arm off. We didn’t want to worry them that I was going to turn and they were going to lose yet another family member. So, we told them my arm had been too damaged from the explosion to keep without putting me at risk. Over the years, Powder interpreted that as meaning she’d blown my arm off while saving everybody. We let her think that – it felt cruel to tell her that she’d gotten me infected. Especially when we caught it in time.”

“I’ve never heard of someone preventing infection through an amputation,” you mumble, unsure what to say to that. You know Sevika would not appreciate you saying, ‘I’m sorry that happened to you,’ but you didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding her story.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” Sevika shrugs, offering you the dubbie. You take it and inhale a small drag. “Thanks for listening, by the way. Not many people around I can tell that story to. Not many I want to tell. It feels good to tell someone who wasn’t there when it happened… I swear, sometimes Vander still looks at me as if I could have saved Milo and Clagger. It’s not as if I chose to leave them there! They were infected, and taking them with us would have meant endangering Jinx and Vi! It’s just…” she trails off with a frustrated sigh.

“You wish you could have done more for them? That you’d know before and helped them in some way?” you finish for her, passing her back the dubbie.

“Yeah. That.”

“I know how you feel… my parents were infected. They were – they would have had a better chance out here than me. Mom knew about plants, gardening and survival skills. Dad knew about building, camping and hunting. Some days, it feels like it should have been them instead of me. Some days, I wish I hadn’t circled back to their house and found them…”

Sevika squeezes your knee: “It isn’t either of our faults. Life just happens. Things go to shit and there’s not much we can do about it.”

“We can keep living, that’s a start,” you point out, resting your head on her shoulder again.

“Yeah… that’s all we can do,” Sevika murmurs, exhaling smoke. “You got enough ammunition for tomorrow’s patrol, or do we need to stop by the arms storage before heading out?”

You giggle at how she breaks the tension once more with a non sequitur. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything I need for tomorrow. Thanks for checking.”

“Would be pretty fucked up if you got bit tomorrow after all that,” Sevika grunts with a light shrug.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Biodiversity loss in agriculture is a pressing threat to global food systems, reducing our ability to cope with climate change, environmental degradation, and nutritional challenges. Over the past century, about 75% of plant genetic diversity has been lost as farmers have shifted toward high-yielding, genetically uniform crops. Today, just nine plant species account for 66% of global crop production, with rice, wheat, and maize alone providing more than 50% of the world’s plant-derived calories. This reliance on a narrow set of crops undermines food system resilience, leaving us vulnerable to pests, diseases, and climate extremes. It has also created a monocultural vulnerability reminiscent of the Irish potato famine of the 1840s, when reliance on a single, genetically uniform crop led to catastrophic losses due to disease. Genetic diversity within and among species acts as a natural buffer against environmental changes. Different crop varieties respond differently to stressors, providing farmers with options to manage risks. When one crop fails, others can compensate, helping to safeguard harvests and livelihoods. However, as the diversity on our farms diminishes, farmers have fewer tools to adapt to the growing volatility brought on by climate change. Extreme weather events such as droughts, floods, and heat waves are becoming more severe, and monocultures are ill-equipped to withstand these shocks. The environmental impact of current agricultural practices further exacerbates biodiversity loss. Agriculture is responsible for about 90% of global deforestation and contributes substantially to habitat destruction, driving the extinction of countless species. Excessive use of inorganic fertilizers and pesticides pollutes soils and waterways, disrupting ecosystems and degrading essential natural services such as pollination and soil fertility. Soil degradation now affects one-third of the world’s soils. In sub-Saharan Africa, agriculture is responsible for 80% of soil degradation on farmland, leading to reduced plant diversity because only the few species that can tolerate poor soil conditions survive. Moreover, the heavy use of nitrogen fertilizers and livestock manure, particularly in regions such as Asia and Latin America, has disrupted natural nitrogen cycles, contributing to greenhouse gas emissions such as nitrous oxide and methane. These emissions not only drive climate change but also accelerate biodiversity loss by reducing the resilience and health of ecosystems. The decline of agricultural biodiversity also impacts human health. Diets worldwide have become increasingly homogeneous, dominated by a few staple crops that are energy-rich but nutrient-poor. Less than 200 species currently contribute to global food supplies, and this lack of variety has serious health consequences. Low dietary diversity is now a leading driver of diet-related deaths, with about 11 million premature deaths annually linked to unhealthy diets. The decline in biodiversity means that fewer nutrient-rich foods such as fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds are available, exacerbating malnutrition in all its forms, from undernutrition to obesity.

10 October 2024

[nomsfaultau]

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 9

Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

For all that “Wilbur” was blatantly hostile and suspicious at times, Philza somehow got the impression that “Technoblade” trusted him the least of the monsters. They were never at ease, rigid like a soldier standing guard. At least more often than not they were farming, which meant Philza worried the least about them hurting Tommy. Still, at meal time he watched them closely as the ghosts fed their chosen vessel.

Tommy held no reservations, sitting by the skeletal husk of his brother and swinging his legs, piling on extra of the potatoes “Technoblade” had harvested. Finally it was easy to get Tommy to eat his vegetables. Really the sole benefit from his stint as a cow, even if Philza had the new hassle of convincing him not to eat grass. And Philza was certain he was the real Tommy, as the “Tommy” sitting next to him was curling his barbed tail around Philza’s ankle. Tommy poked the bony ribs of “Technoblade”, pestering until they bent for him to whisper in their ear. “Technoblade” scarcely reacted as Tommy snickered, but the red lights dancing in their eye sockets darted for Philza, locked upon him like a target. 

“Technoblade” was by far less impulsive than the other two, but that just meant what ever nightmare they inflicted was calculated. Philza could tell they were scheming for all that they rarely imbued Technoblade’s features with expression. But Philza offered the ghosts a cheery grin though he knew it would never be returned.

A cold shiver of a spectral claw tapped on his shoulder, and Philza canted his head. “Do you need something, mate?” “Technoblade” shook his head, and for some reason Tommy looked disappointed. “Well you did wonderful on these potatoes. You’re so hardworking, it’s very kind of you to help me out so much.” Sometimes praise would get Philza a slight smile, since unlike the real Technoblade the imposter didn’t become awkward about it. Yet for some reason “Technoblade” dropped their gaze, sweating slightly. Philza didn’t let his unease trickle into his smile. Usually they swallowed sycophancy well, what changed? 

He hid his confusion with a sip of his tea, only for his tongue to freeze mid-drink. Philza’s eyes flew open, frantically yanking to escape the searing cold only for a frozen block of tea to pull out of his cup. Philza couldn’t help his bewildered laugh, intertwining with Tommy’s cackles. He pried the frozen drink off and winced as ice shattered everywhere. 

The shards of tea flew back together, filling the cup that “Technoblade” caught with spectral hands. It floated back into Philza’s hands, who sat it down to avoid another prank. It was distinctly not in the vein of the stoic “Technoblade’s” humor, or the real Technoblade for that matter given he was far funnier than his counterpart. No, the simplistic practical joke reeked of Tommy, and he turned upon the boy with an eyebrow raised. “Tommy?” 

“Wasn’t me! I don’t have ghost powers!” 

“Sorry, sir,” “Technoblade” mumbled. “It wasn’t particularly noble, but I hadn’t-” Tommy elbowed the spirit vessel roughly and they went quiet, clearly uncomfortable. 

“You said hurting feelings is just as wrong as hurting small squishy human bodies,” “Tommy” announced with a nod as he parroted Philza’s own words. He looked at Philza expectantly for praise, and received a vague head pat. “And you said not to hurt Tommy, and he would be very sad if he wasn’t allowed to be annoying so we HAVE to do everything he says!” 

“Uhh…right,” “Technoblade” agreed dryly. “In our case, Tommy threatened to claim we hurt him and so we were forced to comply or risk being grounded. A fate worse than death.” And given they’d died countless times…hm. 

“Tommy!” Philza scolded. “You shouldn’t manipulate your brothers like that.” Philza hadn’t planned for Tommy somehow becoming the ringleader. That…might make this next part more difficult. 

He blanched. “I’m not Tommy, I’m “Tommy”! I’m innocent!” 

“No you aren’t. Nice try, but you’re grounded, mate.”

“Tommy” cheered. “WHOOO! He’s grounded! That means you’re going to grind him into mush with a mortar and pestle and bury him all over the place, right? TAKE THAT, WORM-FOOD! I’m the preferred Tommy!” He stuck out a forked tongue at Tommy. “He loves me more than you, he loves meee more than youuuuu~”

Philza paused. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you boys think grounding is?” 

“Tommy” scowled. “I know what it is! That’s how it worked in hell.” 

“Wilbur” wouldn’t look at him. “...if it were the Fae Queen, I’d guess it’d mean being trapped in an underground labyrinth for weeks alone. Or treated like the dirt she walks on, but that was always.” 

“That’s not what it means. If you’re grounded Philza despises you for eternity and you can never redeem yourself, cursed to forever roam the land without a chance to move on to the next life. It’s called grounding because he’s anchoring us to the mortal coil,” “Technoblade” posited confidently. “And also extra chores, probably.” 

…that would explain why they all reacted so horrifically. And while it was rather effective at protecting Tommy, he thought in the long run the monsters holding any fear towards him would prevent the underestimation he was relying on. “I…suspect your past experiences are warping your understanding. In this household, grounding means you are housebound for a few days and help with extra chores while we talk about how to act better in the future. I’m not- I’m not going to torture you, good god. I won’t hurt any of you.” He can’t, no matter how much he should want to. He hadn’t seen any of his real children in months; shouldn’t he want them slaughtered? Shouldn’t he hate them? But Philza only hated himself for the weakness. 

“Wait………grounding means we get to spend more time with you?” “Tommy” asked slowly. “And hurting Tommy means we’re grounded…?” 

Philza had just enough time to think oh no before “Tommy” turned into a lion and threw himself at Tommy. Though Philza barely held him back, that just meant a different monster got there first. “Technoblade” nearly punched Tommy in the face, but that turned out to be one of “Wilbur’s” illusions, who was going the emotion route by trying to show Tommy images of his brothers dying in really gruesome ways. Kicking “Tommy” back, Philza lunged across the dinning room table, scooping his boy up as fire began to spread through his house, spectral dead weaving between illusions as the three began to bicker about who got to hurt Tommy first. The dinning room chairs began to float up and hurl themselves violently at “Tommy” and immediately bursting into cinders. “Wilbur” egged them on further in a desperate bid to have his competition annihilate each other given how outclassed he was. 

Panic exploded in Philza’s chest as he realized how badly he’d messed up. He clutched Tommy to his chest, trying to protect him as best he could. Tommy, feeling awfully guilty about having threatened them not knowing their original interpretations of grounding, kept shouting apologies, having apparently not clocked that the brawl was about who got to murder him first.

“ENOUGH!” Philza screamed. “YOU’RE ALL GROUNDED!” A chorus of cheers broke out, the monsters ceasing the violence immediately. “All of you go to your rooms!” A round of protest, but he quashed it. Tommy stuck out his tongue as the monsters dragged their feet, and Philza sighed. “Tommy, you’re also grounded.” The boy protested. “No, you started this mess by manipulating them. You’re going to spend your time thinking about how to apologize.”

“But you already sent “Tommy” to our room!” 

“You’ll be by my side.” Philza stared flatly at their uproarious objections. “Grounding is a punishment tailored to the offense. I want all of you to think about how ripping each other to shreds in a race to see who can attack their brother first is completely unacceptable. At dinner I will bring supper to you and we will privately discuss the matter.” Somehow, it worked despite how clearly they all hated it. 

He waited till they were gone, then dragged Tommy out of the house, brushing objects with his iron ring to rule out illusions and tossing a handful of salt over his shoulder before he began to speak. “Listen to me,” Philza whispered as he cupped Tommy’s face. “What you did was immensely dangerous. You cannot be messing with them like that.” He knew much of it was his fault as well, but it was more important to stress the point to Tommy. 

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t have bullied them like that if I knew that’s what they thought grounding was. That stuff sounded scary. Who did that to them? Are my new brothers okay?” 

“I-” Philza was blindsided at his concern for them. “I…don’t know. You have to be careful around them.” 

“So I don’t hurt their feelings?” 

“...exactly. When they’re frightened, or mad, they can cause accidents like the one you just saw.” And yet Tommy was enchanted by the show of lethal power, like they were fairy tale heroes. What spiked Philza’s terror only had the boy eager with excitement. He couldn’t see how Philza fought tooth and nail to eke out what little safety they had now. 

And that naïveté would get him killed if Philza didn’t act quickly enough. For a brief second he’d hoped- no. Didn’t matter. They’d all tried to slaughter Tommy just to spend more time with him. They’d proved his children would never be safe if they were around. Philza’s resolve hardened, quashing the part of him trying to protest. He had no other choice. 

Philza had to get rid of the monsters to protect his family.

Next>

[the-named-anon]

Dungeon meshi x Minecraft thoughts

(Assuming it’s a modern au and everyone knows how to use a computer…)

Laios

Laios would get the achievement for eating everything edible without even trying. Loves exploring caves, but often falls to his death because he forgets there’s fall damage.

Is trying to speedrun to the dragon, but dies so often it’s pointless… (dude. You’ve lost so much diamond armor Chilchuck isn’t going to give you any.)

He lives in a dirt hut until Marcille or Falin build him a better one

Wants everyone to live nearby, and eventually everyone does

Had a self-made skin, but it looked horrible so Falin made him one

HOARD of dogs. Used to be individually named, but then after the fourth (Name) fell to their death/burned in lava/shot by skeleton, he collectively calls them buddy

Tried to have hardcore worlds, died within the first hour on each.

Is part of a separate server with loads and loads of monster mods (run by someone called LordOfTheDungeon, who made most of the mods)

Gamer tag is xXMonsterSlayerXx

Falin

Is the dragon /j

Master of potion creation, figures them all out very easily.

Lives in a pretty build that her and Marcille built. (And they were roommates 😳)

Is the supplier of ores for the group, is decked out in pretty trimmed diamond armor (enchants courtesy of Chilchuck)

Practically made all the skins that the party uses, based on how they actually look

Has a big farm of animals (is trying to get two of each passive mob in there… tropical fish are the only thing she’s missing, and she has a in-game book to keep track of which ones she has)

Yes, she does have a strider, skeleton horse, and a sniffer.

Has named all her animals, and has a strict “no weapons on the hotbar” when people visit.

Has a separate hardcore world that she’s sunk hours into.

And is part of two other servers, a cosy animal filled cottage core server and another one she won’t tell anyone about

Gamer tag is FlowerFalin

Marcille

Tried desperately to learn potions, but also doesn’t want to step on Falin’s toes…

Is the builder of the group, grows the biggest trees she can. Master of bonemeal.

Went out of her way to grab two mooshrooms for Falin (one red, one brown) under the guise of “I needed mycelium anyways”

Wants to get all of the achievements, but also refuses to eat rotten flesh or poisonous potatoes

Named her sword “Ambrosia two” (and then “Ambrosia 3”, “Ambrosia 4”… she doesn’t loose/break Ambrosia four)

Uses potion tipped arrows. (Realized too late that she probably should’ve named her bow Ambrosia, since its usage with the potion tipped arrows is more similar to her real Ambrosia.)

Falin made her skin based on Uriale

Also plays on a server that has a mod for The Daltian Clan

Gamer tag is UrialeOfDaltian

Chilchuck

Under his quaint little house is a MASSIVE villager trading hall. Has every trade imaginable, at the lowest cost it can be. Lets “no one” in there (Laios has a bad habit of accidentally hitting villagers… and was banned before it was made)

Has the best enchants, and actually successfully speedran to the dragon. (First to have an elytra, and HOARDS shulker boxes. Wants the other party members to pay him for them.)

Has lots of beacons, and has unlocked all the end teleporters… (wither sounds are common on the server)

Most skilled at the game (dad of three girls… what did you expect? (Gamer girl-dad))

His girls made him his skin. (Big anime eyes, but everything else is akin to him) ((begrudgingly uses it))

Has a separate server with his girls, that they modded (custom biomes, more enchant options, fun tools and weapons)

Gamer tag is ChillsChuck

Senshi

Makes food. Only wants to make food… big farm of meat animals, and actual crops.

Is disappointed that there isn’t more monster-based food in the game. (What do you mean you can’t eat enderpearls? Why don’t more mobs drop meat?)

Ate rotten flesh once, and then decided against it. (It’s too bad you can’t use it to make food. This game is seriously lacking culinary options.)

Prefers to play modded, with loads and loads of food options. (The party server is straight vanilla, so he’s part of another one where he’s more active on… modded with food.)

Is confused why they’d think he’d be interested in mining… he makes food irl?? (Can’t differentiate any stones. Even though they’re different colors)

House was made by Marcille, skin by Fallin. (Previously default Steve skin)

Has a horse named Anne (really crappy… like, he tamed the first horse that looked like her so it’s only slightly faster than running and can barely clear a two block jump)

Gamer tag is ChefSenshi402

Izutsumi

Falin made her skin a cat girl (previously one of the default skins (can’t remember any of the other ones, but not Alex or Steve))

Doesn’t really understand Minecraft, or why people want to play it.

Has a hoard of cats, but only the tuxedo ones. (Because they look like her)

Master of the horse-stats trade, and has had luck with llamas.

(Sorry… I don’t have many ideas for her because I’m not at the part of the show where she’s at)

Gamer tag is Izutsumi1 (Izutsumi was taken for some reason)

Bonus:

Thistle

Moderator and owner of the monster-filled server.

Made 90% of the mods in the server, the only mods he didn’t make are the mods he uses to have his mods to work (like geckolib)

Has two accounts, LordOfTheDungeon, and ThistleThorn

Uses LordOfTheDungeon as his moderator one, and ThistleThorn is for the cosy cottagecore server he’s in.

Had a raffle for the players with the longest time in-server to come up with a monster for him to implement

Laios won, and it’s taken Thistle a while to make his “Ultimate Strongest Monster.” (Multiple heads and attacks are time consuming.)

Falin is also a moderator on his server, with a fake gamer tag of “Chimera” (Laios doesn’t know that, but she thinks it’s fun to watch the custom mobs roam around.) Has a custom game mode where the monsters don’t attack her, so she can make a little sanctuary for her favorites. (Also uses a different skin for the server, per the request of Thistle)

There’s an unknown person who’s a moderator that’s skin is lion-like, who’s gamer tag is “BeastWishes”

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 11 [Mack x David]

A/N: First and foremost, please read the warnings below. This chapter is heavy. It is also one of my favorite chapters written in this series. Not because of the things that have happened, but because we learn so much more about David and his upbringing. How despite all of that, he is who he is now. It's an incredible tip of the cap to his character. I also am in love with the courage and strength shown by Mack in this chapter. Would love to hear your thoughts on this one, if you're willing to share 😘

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: scenes of violence, mentions of abuse, guns, death, grieving, drug use, trauma discussions.

(David)

The first time David can remember getting smacked by his older brother, Tommy, was at their hometown grocery store.

David was 5 and had gone into town with his dad and brothers to drop his mom off at bingo. His dad didn’t know how to cook, so on nights his mom went to bingo, they stopped at the grocery store and split buckets of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and coleslaw. His dad would even let David have a full can of Coke.

On this particular day, David has been salivating over the bucket of Dum Dums from the Customer Service counter. His dad was buying cigarettes- Marlboro Reds as always. David had gone on his tip toes when the clerk reached for the white bucket. He made the mistake of reaching into the bucket first and Tommy, the second oldest had smacked David upside the head so hard his ears started ringing. 

“Wait your turn, Turd!” A 13 year old Tommy had barked. His dad had watched the whole exchange and tiredly told Tommy to knock it off. When David got home, he cried in his mom’s arms about it. He shouldn’t have. The next day Tommy gave David a black eye for snitching and knocked the wind out of him with a kick to the stomach. David learned to keep those things to himself after that. 

He generally avoided Tommy growing up those next few years. It got easier when Tommy ran off with some of his buddies to the South, convinced they could get rich on fixing up old cars and hanging around NASCAR tracks. Instead, all Tommy found was drugs.

David will never forget the first time Tommy showed to the farm high on meth. He hadn’t looked right, swerving up the driveway in his beater. David had been by the barn, bottle feeding a new calf, when his mom had called his dad back from the field. Their daddy cocked that shotgun and Tommy was off. The following afternoon, Tommy was waiting outside David’s high school hockey practice. He grabbed David and threw him against the arena wall, demanding his wallet. David had $100 in there. Tommy stole it then knocked a right hook into David’s cheek. When he got home, he told his mom he got punched at practice. She almost made him quit hockey after that.

Coach had to talk her out of it. 

For the next few months, off and on, Tommy waited outside of practice for David. Sometimes he was high. Sometimes he wasn’t. David preferred when he was. When he was sober, he would cry and hug David. Lie to him that he needed this money to get back onto his feet. Then the next time David saw him he would be high, itchy and shakey- wild eyes that threatened at every movement David made. Until one day David came out of practice to see Tommy being led away with handcuffs.

“How could you do this to me!?” He had screamed. “You’re supposed to be my brother!!!!”

David wasn’t the one who called the police. Although it was never admitted to, he suspected it was his coach. 

That same hockey rink still sits across the street from where him and Mack are walking into the grocery store now. The inside of the store has changed a lot since David was 5- more modern and clean, but the memory still lingers at that customer service counter. 

“Okay, so what are we getting?” Mack asks him. David clears his throat, pulling himself out of the past and into the present with his beautiful wife. 

“Burgers and pasta salad and some potatoes. Maybe ice cream for dessert?”

“Mmm I’m so excited for this meal. Okay, do you want veggies for your burger? Like tomatoes, onions, lettuce?” 

“Yeah. You head over there. I’ll grab a cart.” He kisses her temple then they veer off in different directions. David looks out towards the parking lot seeing a familiar, beat up Ram truck. Rust has eaten away at the wheel wells, leaving the body of the truck edgy and rough. David pauses with a hand on a cart. 

It’s probably not the one he is thinking of. Last he heard Tommy hadn’t been in town since March. At least that’s the last time he was on the farm trying to push Felix around. The only thing that made him go away was Felix and his shot gun. Some things never change with Tommy.

David and Mack arrived back into town yesterday after a few weeks in Switzerland. They fell into bed, exhausted from the time change, but with no food in the house, they had to fight their jet lag and head to the store for an early dinner. David wheels the cart with one hand, seeing Mack over by the tomatoes. As he is walking, he glances up, looking towards the familiar customer service counter. There, he does a double take. 

“Fuck.” David mutters, holding his breath. He glances back to Mack. She holds a tomato up, inspecting it every which way before plopping it into a produce bag. She ties the bag off then heads towards the onions.

Internally, David struggles. Mack has not had to interact with his brothers in any of her prior visits to Iowa and he wants to keep that streak going. Knowing Tommy, he’s here for cigarettes and not groceries. So his time in the store should be short lived. David wheels the cart close to Mack, bringing her into his chest to keep his body between her and where he last saw Tommy.

“Have you ever grown onions?” Mack asks him, putting a white one into a bag then dropping the two bags into their cart.

“I’ve grown green onions.”

“We should try next year. I feel like we should come here first and get a garden going next year, then go to Switzerland.”

“You don’t trust Felix to do it?”

“Babe, he can’t do everything for the farm and grow our personal garden.” Mack chuckles. “Give the guy a break. And a raise.”

“He hates breaks.” David reasons. “What’s next?”

“Lettuce.” She cheers, going to the back aisle of the produce section. She filters through the different options with her typical measured calculations, then points to the butter lettuce. “That okay?”

“Mhm.” David doesn’t give a crap what lettuce they have. He’s going to eat it begrudgingly anyway.

His eyes lift over his shoulder, scanning the customer service counter. He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes Tommy is gone. Good. He wraps an arm around Mack’s back, pulling her into his body and giving her a sweet, soft smooch. She awakens in his arms and when they pull away, her look can’t be mistaken.

She wants him to bend her over when they get home. He hopes she will get handsy with him on the way home too. He can see her now, tucking her hair into the collar of her t-shirt so she can take his di-

“Wow, look who decided to come home from the big city finally.” David’s shoulders tighten when he hears Tommy’s smug voice call from behind them. David puts his hands on Mack’s hip, steering her into the cart so she’s locked in by his body.

Her fierce brown gaze squints ever so slightly. God, he loves her fiery attitude.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your pretty girl, little brother?”

Ice runs through David’s veins, then a white hot rush of anger. Before he can think better of it, he’s mouthing off.

“Fuck off.”

“Oooo whoa. Is that any way to treat family?” David laughs without humor.

“Don’t fucking lecture me about how to treat family. Look in the mirror.” 

Tommy walks to the end of the cart, keeping David from creeping forward. He puts his hands on the end of the coated metal, peering in at their limited groceries.

“This is why you’re so scronnie. What you eating vegetables only now?”

It’s laughable that David could ever be considered slim or thin or weak. David rubs at the pounding thud in the middle of his forehead, then backs the cart out of Tommy’s grasp. He lets Mack slide out from his arms. She stands at David’s side, gaze watchful and guarded.

“Tommy.” He extends his hand to her. 

“Mack.” She responds, but doesn’t take his hand.

“Polite.” Tommy grumbles them brings his piercing blue eyes back to his brother. David resists the urge to shove the cart forward and knock Tommy on his back. He has to keep his cool. He can’t go flying off the handle whenever he is around. That just eggs Tommy on.

“Heard you’re married. Guess my invite got lost in the mail. But of course Felix was there. It’s so fucking disgusting that you treat Felix like he was part of our family. He wasn’t. He is a bitch boy and you better not be giving him any profits on our-"

Staying calm is no longer an option.

“Shut the fuck up!” David yells. Mack steps back, visibly surprised at the tone of David’s voice. Other people look. The whole store seems to go quiet. David rounds the cart, pressing Mack back behind him so there is distance between them and her. Then he gets right in Tommy’s face, careful not to touch him. This asshole would be one to claim assault and try to sue David for his next round of drug money.

“Leave us alone, Tommy. And I’m not just talking about today. Leave us alone for good. We are here for the summer minding our own damn business. You better do the same.”

“Oooooo.” Tommy jokingly feigns being afraid. “Little brother is so tough now. They teach you that in the big city?”

“You know where I fucking learned how to beat your ass.” David spits. “Go.” He waves him away. Something about the look in David’s eyes has Tommy choosing to heed his advice.

Tommy does turn and leave while hissing out the mocking laugh that still makes David’s blood turn cold in his veins. 

Mack slides her hand up David’s arm but he flinches and pulls away from her touch.

David tries to recover, wrapping her hand in his, but Mack’s face reflects her worry back to him She doesn’t press and they continue on through the store. David can’t help looking over his shoulder as they leave the parking lot, even after he see’s Tommy’s truck is gone.

Something in the back of David’s mind nags at him. A part of him that knows this is far from the last interaction they’ll have with Tommy.

So much for home being their summer oasis. 

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

The silence in the house creates the perfect amplifier for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Mack and David sit together in the living room after dinner, desperately trying to fight off their jet lag. It’s almost 8pm, which is the time they set for themselves before going to sleep for the night. 

Although, judging by the harsh, set line of David’s jaw, she isn’t sure if he will be going to bed anyway. 

If Mack hadn’t liked David’s sister, Denise, she isn’t sure what she would call her feelings about the interaction with his older brother at the store. David had turned into something dark and mean. He yelled. She thought she was going to have to jump between both the men but at the last second, David got himself under control. It was unnerving for Mack to see her husband that way. Sure, he’s fought on the ice, but that is all superficial. Nothing like what she saw in David earlier. 

Mack yawns loudly as she tosses her book, stretching her arms above her head. David does the same with his magazine, then rubs at his eyes tiredly. He stands wordlessly, pulling Mack up from her spot on the couch. He goes into the kitchen, opening up the dishwasher to let the clean dishes air dry, then grabs himself and Mack a glass of water for bed.

After they both get settled beneath the comforter, David pulls Mack in close. Her pajama shorts smooth against the bare skin of his thighs.

“I don’t want to scare you but I need you to listen to what I’m gonna tell ya, honey.” He runs his fingers through her hair. “Tommy isn’t welcome here. And he isn’t to be anywhere near you, okay? He’s all messed up on drugs again and he gets mean when he’s like this. If he shows up here when I’m out in the field, call me or Felix.”

Mack nods silently. He nods curtly, then turns out the light like their discussion is done. Mack has never seen David so serious before. His voice holds this edge of protection and his eyes have lost the sparkle they had when they arrived in Iowa a few days ago. 

“You’re safe.” He reminds her. “But you need to know he can’t be trusted.”

Mack nods again, then clears her throat to speak so he knows her answer through the darkness.

“Okay.”

Mack eventually falls into a restless sleep. She wakes in the early hours of the morning, hearing quiet voices talking down the hall. She puts on a sweatshirt, adjusting her pajama shorts back down her thighs then opens the door. She pauses, hearing David’s quiet, soothing voice talking to someone.

“How do you think we handle this with the staff?” David inquires.

“I think we tell them if they see him or his truck to let one of us know. You and I are the only ones who should be dealing with him.” Felix answers. “What about Mack?”

“She’s fine.”

A long pause happens.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You think I’d gamble with her?”

“He seems worse.”

“Yeah. He’s using again. Could see it in his eyes when he looked at us.” Another sigh from David. “I want you carrying. I will too.”

“Hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well, it’s the only thing that gets a response from him.”

Mack’s eyebrows furrow. Carry? Like a gun? To her knowledge, David doesn’t have guns. Mack pushes the door open, letting the hinges squeak so they know she is coming. David greets her with a soft smile.

“Good morning.” He opens his arms for her to climb into his lap. She does, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead as Felix rises.

“I’ll get the groups divided up and started. Have a good day, Mrs. Mackenzie.” Felix tips his cowboy hat at her, then heads to the front door.

“Is he ever going to call me Mack?”

“Probably not.” David chuckles. “He always called mama Mrs. Carlson.” 

Mack brushes his drying hair back from his forehead. The strands cling together as his hand grips her hip. She brings her eyes to his. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just letting Felix know about Tommy. I want him to be aware.”

“Okay.” She nods. He tucks a chunk of her hair back behind her ear. His fingers linger lovingly on her cheek, drinking her in.

“What are you up to today?”

“I need to work. Time to write up some of our travels in Europe.”

“Mmm, nice. You’re staying here then?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be close to the house today, in the first pasture. Come out and you can watch me cut some grass.”

“Tempting.” She widens her eyes sarcastically. “But you probably won’t see me.”

“Okay.” He pats her butt for her to stand.

His boots hit the wood floor heavily as he goes to grab himself some coffee in his thermos. Mack watches him walk to the fridge. He grabs a mason jar with the overnight oats she made him last night. When he turns back to grab his thermos, she sees a leather holster attached to his belt. 

“What’s that??”

“For my gun.” He says simply, grabbing a spoon from the silverware drawer.

“What??” She questions, sitting up straight in the chair. “David, you just told me last night that we are safe and now you’re wearing a gun to work?

“It’s not unusual here, babe.” He tries to soothe her.

“You didn’t have that at all when I have been here. Not once, David. Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

David grabs the pot of coffee, pouring himself some into a white Michigan Hockey mug. He wipes his thumb under his nose, sniffing. He turns his butt to the counter, leaning against it as she stares him down, waiting for an explanation. He finally sighs.

“I take my job of protecting you seriously. I don’t trust my brother on crack. This gives me peace of mind.”

Mack’s head is spinning, not comprehending what’s going on at all. She wasn’t even aware there were guns on the property. David has never mentioned it in present tense. Sure, she knows he has hunted in the past, but he never mentioned he had hand guns. 

“I-I’m not comfortable with guns.” Mack swallows hard, grabbing the sleeves of her sweatshirt into her hands. David frowns, rubbing at his face and neck. 

“Okay. I respect that. We can talk more about that tonight, but I gotta get going right now, okay?” Mack can hear the roar of the farm equipment starting up. He grabs his thermos, then comes to her chair. He kisses her. “Have a good day, honey.” 

Mack watches from the table as he opens up the front closet. He works a few stray jackets to the side, exposing a large safe. He punches in a few numbers, then the mechanical locks twist and click. David turns the handle to reveal a large quantity of guns. He grabs one from the top shelf, double checking something on it, then pushing it into his holster. He shuts the door, then waves at her before opening up the front door. When it shuts behind him, Mack closes her eyes with a sigh.

Through out the day, Mack tries to work but can’t. Her focus keeps being pulled to the front closet where that tall, black safe sits. Her eyes continuously pull to the closed door, wondering what else is in there. The same mantra loops in her brain: that safe is big. Tall too. Like what else is in there?

By the time David comes home for the day, she’s got herself all sorts of worked up. He’s sweaty when he comes through the front door, bringing with him the hot, sticky summer air. He already has his dirty hat and shirt off. He tosses them onto the bench as he lays down on his back for a second.

“Uh, fuck, I’m tired.”

Mack nods in acknowledgement, keeping her gaze on her computer. She quietly types away, continuing to work on her outline. She nudges her blue light glasses back up her nose as David kicks off his boots and socks. Eventually, he peels himself off the floor, then goes to take a shower. When he comes out he grills brats and they eat dinner at the kitchen table together.

“How was your day?” He asks.

Mack doesn’t respond but she does look towards the front closet again. She turns her gaze back to him with a wrinkle in her nose.

“How many guns do you have?” She asks quickly, ignoring his question.

“10.” He answers immediately. “They’re all registered. They’re always locked up unless they’re on me. I take firearm safety classes regularly. Been shooting since I was 8.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Can I have the combination?” She asks.

“Sure, after you take a firearm safety class.” He tells her around a bite of salad. Mack pauses. Something unpleasant and unnerving rips through her. It chills her body and locks her spine up. Slowly, she puts her fork down. 

“I’m really weirded out that you have a safe full of guns that only you have the combination to. I feel…” She trails off. Because how does she tell him that it makes her feel unsafe now? “Unsure.” She settles on.

“Okay. I can have Felix take the safe tomorrow. What would you like to do for tonight?”

“Oh.” She says quietly. “I didn’t mean… um.”

“This is your home too, honey. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable. But I can’t give you that combination. I have to keep you safe from things both inside and outside this house.”

Mack swallows hard. She is starting to feel really shakey and emotional. They have only been in Iowa for three days, but she is becoming overwhelmed with how different this stay has begun, and how much anxiety she is experiencing in the current moment.

“I think I’m gonna go lay down,” She says, standing up fast. Her chair skids across the floor, almost falling back behind her. David stands too, slower, concerned, but Mack backs away when he walks forward to comfort her. He stops immediately, staring at her.

“Go ahead, baby. I’ll stay here.” He encourages, hands slightly up in surrender to her.

Mack quietly turns and goes to their bedroom. She closes the door, then sits cross legged on the bed before bursting into tears. She’s really confused and blindsided by what is going on. Then on top of it, David is acting weird, which is making her more uncomfortable. All of a sudden he’s yelling in grocery stores and has a gun on him? That’s a whole different side of him Mack has never seen. Almost like he is a completely different person.

She didn’t grow up around guns or shooting like him. He didn’t talk to her about this safe or his unstable brother before he got here. She hasn’t shared with him the why behind guns making her uncomfortable because she didn’t think she had to. Now, she’s here, in a place she still doesn’t know very well, having to deal with heavy topics while completely out of her element. 

Mack remains in their room by herself, taking some time to calm down alone. She can hear David cleaning up dinner. The dishwasher starts then a soft thump of the front door closing, meaning David is outside. She relaxes her shoulders, trying to untense her body.

Mack’s head begins to pound. She disappears into the bathroom to grab some medicine then lays down under the covers, curled up into a comma, reminding herself that she is safe. She falls asleep like that quickly, arms wrapped around herself too.

When she awakens, it’s dark outside and the clock next to the bed says 12:39 am. She sits up, looking around the room. David’s side of the bed is still made. The door is still shut. No light comes in from beneath the door. She can hear the crickets whispering outside the bedroom windows. Within these small four walls, Mack feels like the only one in the Iowa country side tonight.

Hair on the back of her neck sticks up. Her eyes begin to tear as a lump forms in her throat. She is really scared. Like she can’t breathe. Her chest heaves. She grips at her throat with her fingers then slides out of the bed. She rushes across the room, throwing the door open. The house is so dark. There are no illuminating streetlights this far out from a bigger city, so Mack stumbles down the hallway, gripping at the wall to lead herself toward the main area.

“David?” She calls through chattering teeth.

Mack can hear every octave of her shuddered breaths.

“David!” She sobs when there is no answer. Her fingers hit a picture frame, sliding it off the nail on accident. It crashes to the floor, jolting her fear to a higher level.

She begins to full on panic, sobbing, dropping to her knees. She can’t hear David calling to her. She is paralyzed in the hallway.

Then, “Mack. It’s me. I’m going to touch you.” David taps her knee then runs his fingers up her thigh to her back, fully enclosing her. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

David leans back into the wall, pulling her body completely into his. He cradles her softly, gently murmuring to her that she is safe. Mack continues to sob, big quaking shudders that smear tears across his bare chest.

David reaches for his phone, turning on the flashlight, so he can see her face. Then he cups her chin in his hand. Her amber eyes are squeezed shut, lips warped from her cries. Eventually, with David’s touch and steady assurance, Mack calms down. She stares down at the floor, silent tears still falling.

“I-I tho-ought y-you le-e-eft.”

“Oh, baby. No. I stayed out here to give you space. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

Mack starts to cry again in relief and exhaustion and probably a lot of other ways. But what matters is David picks her up and takes her to bed. He pulls the covers over them and holds her as tight as he can. She’s smooshed into his bare chest. Her wet tears sink into his skin.

David is able to get Mack back to sleep. When his alarm goes off at 5, he turns it off fast. The room illuminates from David’s screen as he sends Felix a text to let him know he’s in charge. With everything going on between him and Mack, he can’t work safely today. Finally, he pulls Mack in tight again and falls back to sleep.

Hours later, they wake up like that together.

David rubs Mack’s back to help her wake up, then stretches out his legs and lower back which hurt from falling asleep on the couch. Mack is shy but doesn’t pull away from him.

“I’m so sorry. About everything that happened yesterday. I have not handled this well at all. I don’t think I could have done worse than this, babe.” His voice is a tentative, apologetic whisper.

Mack nods, then rubs at her gritty and swollen eyes.

“If you want to go back to New York, I understand.”

She shakes her head no.

“Mack, babe, I’m trying to be patient here but I’m really worried you’re falling outta love with me right now, so can you give me something?”

“I’m more in love with you than I’ve ever been.” She assures him. “I have some things I haven’t told you before and they came up yesterday. It wasn’t only about what was happening here, now.”

The kiss David lays on her has Mack curling into his body tighter. His lips suck her up, then his tongue. His hands alternate between gripping and rubbing her. She cups his jaw when they pull apart for air.

“My family was robbed once.” Mack blurts.

David stills. His eyebrows pull together and Mack can feel his jaw tighten under her hand.

“My mom was pregnant with me at the time. They cased our house. Waiting for my dad to be gone then broke in with guns. They put a gun to my mom’s head and tied her up while Lucie was upstairs sleeping.” David tenseness moves from his jaw throughout the rest of his body.

“The last thing he wanted to take were her wedding rings. My mom fought back. He knocked her over and broke her collar bone, then threatened to come back and teach her a lesson when my dad was out of town next.”

“What the fuck.” He hisses.

“Yeah. We moved after that. They caught him and he was convicted, did some jail time but he’s still out there in the world now, with the sense of home and security he stole from all of us that night.”

She pauses, pulling in a deep breath to settle her discomfort.

“So yeah. Guns make me uncomfortable. And give me panic attacks. And turn sweet men into scary, unknown people.” She whispers the last part. He needs to know how he made her feel yesterday.

“Baby, I would never hurt you.” He whispers, swallowing his wounded pride to make sure she knows he means it

“I know, David. But that feeling I have in my chest is never going to go away. Whether you’re holding the gun or someone else. It’s trauma.”

“I understand. What do you need me to do so you feel safe?”

“I want us to do other things than just have you walking around with a gun on the farm. That is not the solution to this.”

“Okay.” David nods. 

When they’re ready to rise from bed and greet the world, they have a plan. The gun safe is being moved to Felix’s until Mack gets more comfortable. Their plan also includes a new security system with cameras at the front gate, barn, and house. They get new, more sophisticates locks and stop doing their country tendencies of leaving the doors unlocked. 

After a few days of self-reflection, Mack signs up for a firearm safety class and after that, she gets the combination to the safe, exactly as he promised he would. Mack doesn’t feel the need to continue more after that, but learning how to use it and be safe, took away a lot of her fear around it.

The guns move back in the house and Mack’s attention goes back to normal things like work, the upcoming country fair, and her husband’s steady hand in hers.

- - - & - - -

Weeks later, Mack and David are driving the truck back from their sunflower patch. David’s hand is on Mack’s thigh, tapping along to the beat of a country song flowing through the old speakers. It’s a bit crackly, but Mack loves this old truck. Her and David had been out watching the sunset and making love in the truck bed.

The truck rolls up the hill from the pasture back onto the gravel road. Mack then lays her head on David’s shoulder. The cool blue of the night makes the white house they pull up to stark. The truck rounds the corner and David slows down almost to a stop. Mack lifts her head, seeing a blue, beat down truck in front of the house. Every muscle in David’s body coils up. He parks the truck in it’s spot by the barn. Mack sits up, watching as the person gets out of the driver’s side door.

It’s Tommy.

“David?”

He reaches around her to the glove box, pulling out a handgun Mack didn’t know was in there.

“Go straight inside, honey.”

“David.” Mack worriedly whispers this time.

“Baby, don’t fight me. I can tell he has been using. Get inside the house.” David shakes his head sternly. He tucks the gun in the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. David walks around the truck, then opens Mack’s door.

“Should I call…” She trails off because David isn’t listening to her. She swallows hard as he forces her forward to the house with a firm hand on her back. He doesn’t release her until her foot hits the first step of the porch. Mack hustles inside, quickly shutting the door behind her. 

“You’re not welcome here and you’re trespassing on my land.” David reminds him.

Mack watches from inside the house. She begins to tremble from fear and adrenaline. 

“Your land?” Tommy spits out with a laugh, then starts walking around the truck to David. David doesn’t move, hands loosely on his hips.

“Oh shit.” Mack mutters watching as Tommy shoves David. 

“This isn’t yours. It’s ours.”

“It’s fucking mine now. You got your cut, now fuck off.”

“Daddy would whip you with his belt if he heard you talking to me like that.”

“He wouldn’t. This land is still in Carlson hands because of me. He’d be proud of that. There have been some hard years since he died and I’m the one who made sure this farm survived. Not you. Not Charlie. Not Denise. Me.” David’s voice begins to raise. “How fucking dare you come here and say that to me.”

Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. He turns to look out towards the driveway then suddenly lunges at David out of nowhere. Even if Tommy was in great physical shape, he wouldn’t stand a chance against David. But still, Mack gasps and clutches her throat. She digs in her back pocket for her phone, fumbling with it as David flips Tommy onto his back.

Mack can feel the thud of his body on the dirt vibrate through her chest. Tommy struggles to breathe after. David gets down and says something quietly to him. Then he stands back on his feet and waits for Tommy to get back in his truck to leave. It takes Tommy a minute to get his bearings again, then he stumbles along to the driver’s side door. 

“You’ll get yours, little brother.” Tommy hisses out. Fear slices through to Mack’s core. 

After Tommy leaves in a whirl of dirt, David picks up his old Rangers hat that fell off during the altercation. He comes up the porch with heavy steps. Mack greets him in the entry way with tears on her cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey. C’mere.” He brings her into his chest with a hand on the back of her head. Mack sobs into his body. “We are safe. Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him hurt us.” 

Mack can’t help but think what that cost could be to them. He won’t let anyone hurt them, but what will he have to do to prevent the harm?

Call it fate, or maybe Devine intervention, but that night is the last time Mack and David ever see Tommy.

Two weeks later, as Mack and David are sharing coffee on the front porch, a sheriff’s car slowly rolls up into the driveway. It is David’s good friend, Trevor.

“Hey Trev.” David waves, scratching his chest hair with his other hand. 

“David, Mack.” He nods to them both, then takes off his green sheriff’s hat.

Sensing Trevor’s seriousness, David sits up in his chair, dropping both his feet back to the ground. Mack stands, getting off his lap so David can greet Trevor more formally. The two men shake hands, then Trevor says, “We had a drug raid early this morning off Aspen.”

“That green house on the corner?”

“Yeah.”

“That place should have been condemned long ago.” David sighs.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Not as simple as when your daddy was mayor.” David nods in agreement. 

“The world is different. What’s that house got to do with us?”

“Well, in our sweep of the house, we found Tommy there.” Mack’s blood goes cold at the way David stills. “He wasn’t responsive. We transported him to Pella Regional, but it was too late, Dave.” David stares down at Trevor, hands on his hips in disbelief. Mack’s fingers shake over her mouth as she looks at her husband. She blinks tears she didn’t know had formed down her cheeks. 

“Are you serious?” David whispers to Trevor.

“Yes, sir. I am so sorry.” David licks his lips, then looks away from Trevor, staring up at the bright blue sky him and Mack had just been appreciating. “We need next of kin to come identify the body. I thought about going to Charlie but…” Trevor trails off. Everyone on that porch knows Charlie would have waved them away to disappear into the bottle, and made David do it anyway.

“Um, yeah. I’ll go change and meet you up there.” 

“Sure.” Trevor nods. “Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, Trev.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you at the station. Ask for me; I’ll take you.” The two men share a look of old friends, who understand each other and this circumstance. Trevor being the one to take David is a man trying to be the best friend he can be in an ugly life moment. Trevor puts his hat back on his head and gets back into his car. David watches the rocks kick up from the dirt road after the SUV, creating a plum of smoke like haze that blurs his view with his tears.

Mack carefully walks over to him. She pastes herself to his back, pushing her forehead into the deep valley of his spine. Her fingers grip as much of him as they can. She has no words. No amount of scrambling of her brain can come up with what to say to him. 

“I guess I gotta go. I can make pancakes when I get back.” Mack winces. Then grabs at him to turn him to look at her.

“Are you…” She stops herself. Of course he isn’t okay. “I’ll go with you.”

“No. Please don’t.” Mack purses her lips, trying not to feel hurt. This isn’t about her.

“Okay.” She whispers back as he walks around her. The screen door slams behind him. She hears David sigh heavily then inhale sharply like he is sobbing. She turns, watching him hit his knees in the living room. Then a gut wrenching wail rips through the house. Mack starts to sob in response. She walks into the house, collecting his big body into her arms. She buries her nose and a hand into his hair, collecting his tears and snot on her shirt. 

“I didn’t want this to happen to him!” He wails to Mack. “I just wanted him to leave us alone!”

“I know, baby. It’s not your fault.” Mack digs her finger prints deeper into his back, trying to hold him tight enough.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” He rocks forward, almost sending Mack to her back. She tightens her core to keep them both upright. “What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing, baby. Nothing. You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.” 

It’s not enough. 

How could any words be when someone lost their life last night?

- - - & - - -

David doesn’t hold a funeral for his brother, there is no otherwise celebration of life. His other siblings don’t even acknowledge the loss of Tommy. Charlie rolls out of town again without a word, disappearing to roam along the West with some girl he met at a bar up in Des Moines. Denise and her family stay in Texas because “it’s just too hard”. So David takes days off from the farm over the next few weeks to settle Tommy’s affairs. He closes out his debts. Sells off the little items he had, including the run down trailer he was living in. He calls their extended family to let them know. No one is surprised. They all hope he has found peace in the next stage of existence. 

It’s Mack who suggests that David bury Tommy’s cremated remains by their parents. David stared blankly across the room at her then gave a single nod. He picked up the phone again and made a few more calls.

They buried Tommy on a Sunday morning. A local preacher from the church David’s mom loved when the kids were growing up stops by to say a few words. David doesn’t cry a single tear. He looks down at the torn up ground with an empty look. Mack folds their fingers together as they walk back up to the house. David stands at the bottom of the porch steps. Mack steps up, then turns back to look at him. 

“I want to leave.”

“Okay. Where should we go?”

“Back to New York. I’m sick of this fucking place.” Mack bites her lip worriedly then nods. 

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“David.” Mack sighs, rubbing his palm. “We need to give Felix more time.” She reminds him. 

“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’ve gotta get outta here.” 

Mack understands. He knows she does because in a different way, she has felt the same ache he has complained about in his chest since Trevor showed up in the driveway. 

“Okay. Go. I’ll take care of the house, close it up for us and do what needs to be done here.” David nods, then walks around her into the house. 

The next day, Mack drops David off at the airport. He flies to New York and disappears there  alone. Mack takes three weeks to close up the farm. She could have been done in four days, but she knew David needed that time alone in New York. He went on long motorcycle rides. He grieved. He called her and cried on the phone at 2 am several nights. He got another tattoo. He started seeing the team psychologist to work through his grief- of the brother he had and the one he wished he did. But David got through it in the way he needed to. 

When Mack returned to New York, he was better, more himself than she had seen him since that first interaction with Tommy. Having her back with him healed him more. He started to laugh again, joke around with Woody, and build legos with Stella. He even went out for a beer with Lio and caught a Mets game with him. By the time the season started, David found himself in a good place with everything. 

He tells her as much on their last non-hockey morning together, sipping coffee.

“I’m feeling at peace with what happened this summer.”

“Yeah?” She murmurs, closing the book she had been reading.

“Yeah. I felt bad for awhile that I… like… felt relieved that he was gone? I didn’t have to worry about what he was doing anymore. He really had me on edge when we were back in Iowa. I felt violent and you sensed that the day I pulled the gun out of the safe.” Mack contemplates, then nods in agreement. “I don’t feel that way anymore. Yeah, Charlie is around town still, but he flows in and out like a breeze. Tommy was always around. Always threatening a run in or showing up and hollering at Felix when he knew I came back to New York. Not having to worry about that anymore is a relief.”

“I bet.” Mack nods assuringly. She reaches for his hand. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry that… his death is so much more complicated than it should have been. You should have been able to grieve this a different way.” David shifts closer to her on the couch then pulls her into a strong, loving hug.

“You’ve been so amazing with me through this. Thank you. I can’t imagine how I would have gotten through all of this without you. It’s like.. I shifted so much but you never took it personally. You stepped in and did whatever I needed and figured it all out. Thank you.”

“I like taking care of you.” She responds quietly.

“You’re good at it too.” 

Yeah. She is. 

And that’s something Mack didn’t realize until now. How good she can be at taking care of her people. 

That realization will nudge and change her life in a way she’ll never see coming.