#to think i struggled growing it at first but adding more floating plants and stuff to slow the surface flow of water...

[savageboar]

going to work absolutely covered in duckweed after doing population control.

[prof-peach]

My little kirlia loves to have tea in a garden, so I've been thinking of planting some flowers around a little table outside, I'm not very good at it myself though, and do tend to be forgetful. Any recommendations on easy to care, yet pretty flowers? Do any flowers/plants have special effects on Pokemon that I should be concern/excited about?

ok, so we had a little chat about the weather you get, and I now know you have cold-ish climates, but a good bit of sun, so this is what I can suggest for you and your dear partner, to get the most out of your garden without too much work.  SO, first things first, Grasses. They come in so many shapes and forms, all different colours, heights and can often tough out even the most bitter winter. The only real work I find you have to do with ornamental grasses is at the very end of winter, cut them back to the ground, and they’ll grow back nice and lush come spring when the sun starts to shine. People cut these grasses down quickly because they see them as scruffy, but I encourage you to avoid this, as the grass itself is so important to small bug types, and feeding bird pokemon who need nesting material, grubs to eat, and generally cover from predators. plus bonus, less work for you.

Grasses can create a privacy screen too, so if you're overlooked by neighbours, or your garden is very open and gets a lot of harsh wind, then plating tall tough grasses will not only give you incredible textures, but also some well deserved cover from prying eyes or bitter winds. They also help smaller less tough plants shelter, and can help keep the other things you plant in the space safer. They naturally clump and spread, and you really don’t have to do much other than sit back and watch their beautiful seed heads blow in the wind, creating movement, sound, and giving a great depth of texture to any garden. Plus who doesn't like to see sweet little pidgey feeding on seeds?

Pampas Grass: Super tall, beautiful foliage, real winners, Extra tough plants. ^

Zebra Grass, tall, dense, beautiful stripes, easy and tough ^

for a more Tropical vibe, perhaps try some bamboo ^

 some folks are nervous about it because its fast growing and harder to control, you can stop its spread by planting in containers, OR putting bamboo into the ground, but line where you want it to grow with pond liner, a thick durable plastic, that the plant will struggle to grow through. If you plant a few in a lined trench, they'll fill that space in no time, giving you a thick wall of tough evergreen grass, that literally can be left all year round. makes for pretty foliage in cut flower mixes too.

Ok thats the backdrop laid out for you, now the fun stuff and colour! So heres some of my favs, which i know come in a range of variants.

 ^ Hardy Hibiscus, a shrub, known for their reds, whites, pinks and purples, and yellows, with lovely foliage and a mass of flowers big enough for the combee, cutifly and even butterfree to frequent. they arent overly sweet smelling but very pretty and need little care once established. You can even plant them in pots and they’d be pretty happy if you just feed them.

Hydrangea ^, known for pinks and purples, blues, and whites, their flowers (when not fed specific colouration feed) will change based on how acidic or alkali your soil is. If you want the flowers to not change colour, then get a white one (which is far prettier in my opinion haha). The white ones don’t change colour and will stay no matter your soil type. You can get special feed for them to keep them a certain colour, but its a bit of a faff and not for everyone. these plants can be delicate (see Hydrangea ‘limelight’, or ‘bluebird’) or bold and big (Hydrangea ‘big daddy’ or ‘annabelle’). Should you have a wall and some cash to splash, you can even get a climbing Hydrangea, which is quite stunning.

^ Lilac. Tough, easy to care for, and SO sweet smelling you’d think you’d died and gone to heaven. They come in whites, pinks and purples mostly, and have a robust nature you’d not expect from such a sweet smelling thing. I cannot stress how good and tough these plants are, and once established they can get incredibly aged and majestic. 

These shrubs can be controlled to be small, or left to turn to large shrubs, depending on the space you're working with. I would advise putting in your larger plants first, then slowly adding smaller bits, as the big stuff creates the frame for your garden, its like putting bones in first, to support and hold together the spaces form.

after this, its all down to small floral bits. you mentioned tropical vibes up top, so i’d say go for some greens in there too, ferns and large leaved hostas are pretty cold tolerant (hostas can also flower which is lovely), and give a real feel for depthy jungle and texture, and the more green you get, the more the flowers pop against it.

for ground cover and softer smaller plants, think hardy Geraniums, maybe some hardy shrub Fuchias, a personal fav for its fearless defiance to the cold is Erysimum, and then you have age old winners like Aquilegia, Yarrow, and Scabiosa. Do a google, check out the options and hopefully head to your local nursery to pick a few bits up. i’d suggest planting up when the ground doesn't get frost in the morning, to give your new plants the best chance. water whatever you plant into the ground thoroughly once, and only do so again should you get a particularly hot summer day. 

All the plants i’ve mentioned are tough as old boots if you make sure they're ‘Hardy’ thats the word to look on labels with anything you plan to put in. There aren't any plants that I know of that affect the Ralts line thoroughly AND fit the vibe you were gong for that we discussed, but i do know they're easily calmed by scented plants, so go to a local centre, or even public gardens and take some time to smell the flowers. If they plant it in your local park, and your pokemon enjoys it, chances are it can survive your weather and rough soil type. I find the Ralts line is very in tune with their trainers, and so if you enjoy the garden, if you like the sound of the grass in the wind, or the smell of the flowers, or buzz of combee floating by, then they'll join in and be content.

You mentioned your Kirlia likes tea? grab some mint and pop that in a pot for her, don’t put it in the ground, it goes wild and rampant. Also Chamomile is a rather hardy plant to have, and she may enjoy to learn the process of caring for and using that delicious little herby plant. It has sweet daisy flowers and does well in sunny spots or pots, and smells divine, some people even use it as an alternative for a lawn.

Pleeeeeease let me know how it goes, and if any of these names or phrases seem daunting, I am here to help, and can promise you i’ve given pretty easy starting points, and ALL of these plants can handle being in containers or in the dirt, in exposed positions, and none need rigorous feeding or care, other than the odd water, and the dead flowers trimmed off. If you get stuck message in, Gardening is kind of my vibe, and i’d hate to think you’d get a little overwhelmed. Plants move so slowly, you get a lot of time to fix issues and mistake (i know i make a lot of them haha) and they're also very forgiving, so don’t feel like you have to know a lot to get started, its a hobby that gets us outdoors, and brings great joy when the things we care for flower and give results, and we can learn from our decisions if they should fail and die. 

GOOD LUCK!

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

The next second, Kirby was floating in the air. None other than Coo had swooped in, tightly grabbed Kirby, and flew up high. Meta Knight, who had missed, lost sight of Kirby and started looking around, restlessly.

“Coo!” Kirby cheered. “Thank you for saving me!”

“We must fight back, Kirby,” Coo said, “Rick and Kine will fight with us too!”

The two, who had been poked by Coo, had woken up, and came rushing in.

“I’m here! Don’t keep me waiting!” Rick shouted as he rolled into a ball.

“Go~ Rick!” Kine shouted, raising his tail fin overhead, before slamming into Rick with great force. Rick rolled at a great speed and collided into King Dedede. A clean hit! The great king fell over and dropped his hammer. Meta Knight, who had come to his senses, raised his sword, aiming for Rick.

“What do you want me to do??” Coo yelled. He released Kirby, flew up, and powerfully flapped his wings. Sharp feathers shot out at Meta Knight. His specialty, CUTTER COO! Meta Knight hurriedly held up his cape and blocked the feathers.

“OK, I’ll try again!” Rick yelled enthusiastically and, once again, tried to roll into a ball. However, gripping his hammer again, King Dedede blocked Rick’s path.

“Rick, danger incoming!” Kirby called out.

“GAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

The king let out an enraged roar and was about to bring his hammer down when Kine jumped into the frey and energetically jumped about.

“Take this~!”

Kine’s fins and scales contained ample amounts of water, even when moving long distances in the air. The water sprayed with energy, getting in Dedede’s eyes.

“!!”

The king, standing bolt upright, covered his eyes with his arms.

“Okie dokie,” Kirby yelled, “now’s our chance!”

“Let’s do this, Kirby!” said a carefree voice. Before Kirby knew it, Gooey came by his side. Kirby nodded his head.

“Uh-huh, now’s the time. Hang in there, and I’ll suck up the air-”

“I’ve got a better idea!”

“Huh? What’s your idea?”

“Let’s work together!”

“Work together? How?”

“Well, like this!”

Gooey stretched out his tongue and quickly wound it around Kirby.

“Woah, what are you dooooing?! Gooey, we’re fighting Dedede and Meta Knight, not me!!”

Gooey said something Kirby couldn’t properly understand. Because his tongue was out, his words weren’t clear, but it seemed that he wanted to say “I know, I know.”

“Huh?! Gooey, no… s-stop-”

Guessing what Gooey was thinking, Kirby struggled, but Gooey disregarded him. Shaking and brandishing Kirby in his long tongue, he threw Kirby with force!

“IYAAAAAAA-!!!”

Kirby flew through the air like a bullet and crashed into King Dedede. It was a one-hit KO! Furthermore, Kirby rebounded and hit Meta Knight, resulting in his defeat as well. Coo let out a groan.

“Just as I expected. Kirby and Gooey: What an excellent combination! Taking out a pair of two formidable foes in one blow-”

However, the one who had sustained the most damage was Kirby. Falling onto the cloudy ground, he fell unconscious yet again.

“Hey, she’s getting away!!” Rick shouted. He pointed at none other than Pirka. Pirka, who saw just how quickly Meta Knight and King Dedede were taken out, turned pale, drew back, and tried to run away. Gooey coiled his tongue around Pirka, who was hastily fluttering her wings.

“Eek! Let me go! I told you to let me go!” Pirka cried, rampaging, but Gooey’s tongue held on tight, unyielding.

“Excellent job, Gooey,” Coo said, “we have temporarily captured her.”

“...?!!”

Gooey darted his eyes about, seeming distressed.

“Now that that’s settled, we’ve gotta wake up Kirby.”

“No, before that, let’s deal with those two.”

Coo pointed out Meta Knight and Dedede with his wings.

“Since those two are so tough, they likely won’t stay unconscious for so long. If they continue to act violently, we will be unable to stop them.”

“Yeah, right~? One way or another, we need to get those two to snap out of it.”

Coo glared at Pirka.

“You’ve lost. Give up, undo the spell you’ve put on the pair.”

“H-Hmph! Never!” Pirka said with a hateful face.

“Undo your spell,” Rick yelled in anger, “or suffer the wrath of tickle torture!!”

“Stop! It’s just that I don’t know how to undo the spell!”

“What do you mean?

“I can turn people into my puppets, but I don’t know how to undo it. Really.”

Pirka irritably looked away. Rick crossed his arms.

“Really, huh? If we can’t undo the spell, then what’ll happen to them?”

“Well…”

“We will have to figure out how to undo the spell later,” Coo said, thinking, “anyway, now, if we cannot get those two to snap out of it, then we’ll have to restrain them instead.”

“We’ve gotta tie them up, but nobody has any rope~. Can Gooey wrap his tongue around them instead?”

Gooey shook his tongue. This appeared to be meant as a “NO!”

“Eek! Eek! Don’t wave that around, idioooot!”

Pirka seemed as if she were just about to pass out.

“It’s no use, huh?” Coo said. “...if we-”

“That’s it! I’ve got an idea!” Rick said, having just thought of something. “Let’s use this!”

Rick took off the pouch he was wearing around his neck. When they had left, Pick had given him a small pouch as a good luck charm.

“That good luck charm?” Kine asked. “How will that help?”

“We’ll put these three in here!”

“What~? Don’t joke around, Rick.”

Kine broke into laughter. However, Rick had a deadly serious face.

“I’m not joking,” he said, “I’m being serious.”

“Rick-”

“How will we fit King Dedede and Meta Knight into a sack so small?” Coo asked, seeming shocked.

“We can stretch this thing out a lot. I’ve seen Pick put all kinds of stuff in it."

“Even if it can fit many things, there’s always a limit…”

Right before the eyes of Coo, who seemed to doubt the plan, Rick held the sack and then pulled its sides with all his strength. The small sack stretched out remarkably. Although Rick used both his hands to stretch it as much as he could, it still had the potential to fit more.

“Hurray! It’s really working! So cool!” Kine shouted in an astonished voice.

“Hey, Pick’s the cool one. Just as you’d expect from my girlfriend.”

Rick laughed proudly.

“As for the sack, we’ll stuff them into it. Let’s throw in Meta Knight and King Dedede, and Pirka while we’re at it!”

“Let’s do this~!” Kine said, jumping up and down.

“Please, grab the end of the bag,” Rick said to Coo, “I’ll grab the other end. Pull with everything you’ve got!”

“Understood.”

Coo and Rick pulled both ends of the sack. The lucky charm was noticeably stretched. With it, they covered the fainted Meta Knight and King Dedede, wrapping it around them. Then, Gooey threw Pirka, who had been wrapped in his tongue, in there. With the three in the sack, Rick tightly, tightly tied the mouth shut. From inside the sack, Pirka violently screamed:

“What’re you doing!? Let me out now!! Let me out!! I said let me out, you stupid little animal idiots!!”

“Good grief. Is this what Pirka’s true nature is? She was just some wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Coo said, surprised, and then looked at Kirby, who was still unconscious, "now then, to deal with Kirby. We must wake him up soon.”

“Yeah. Come on~, Kirby”

Kine started jumping around, spraying water onto Kirby. Having gotten hit with the freezing cold water, Kirby slightly opened his eyes.

“U-Umm… wha? Lunch time already?...”

“Now is not the time for sleeping, Kirby. Remember~!”

Straining his eyes, Kirby looked around, and, suddenly, sprung up.

“Oh right! What happened with Pirka, or Meta Knight, or King Dedede?!”

“We’ve dealt with them~” Kine said with a friendly smile.

“You and Gooey finished them off in the blink of an eye,” Rick added, “case closed!”

“I wouldn’t say this ‘case' is 'closed' until we get Meta Knight and King Dedede back to normal,” Coo said with a sigh,” Anyway, we were able to stop Pirka’s wicked schemes. Gooey, would you mind explaining the current situation?”

“No problem!”

Gooey waved his tongue.

“...what do I have to explain?”

“First of all, start from the beginning. Gooey, why did you come here, above the clouds?”

“Wellll, I saw something: There was a girl flying somewhere.”

“Would that girl happen to be Pirka?”

“Yup! She was flying really high up, so I chased after her ‘cus it looked like fun! So, I also flew above the clouds, and thought that maybe we’d play together.”

“I see. Quite the opposite of Pirka’s story. She said she flew above the clouds and then got chased by you. Then what?”

“When I tried to get closer to her, she planted a tree.”

“A tree? Like that tree?”

Coo used his wing to point out the tree growing by the lake’s shore.

“Yeah. Then I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t let me. She got all mad all of a sudden and threw one of the tree’s fruits at me.”

“...what do you mean exactly? Is there some secret about that tree fruit that she didn’t want you to know?”

Kirby and the gang thoroughly analyzed the tree growing on the shore.

“For a tree that was just planted, it’s pretty big,” Rick said, “must be growing really fast.”

Coo nodded his head.

“Indeed. The overhanging roots are growing into the lake. Perhaps…”

Coo looked at Gooey.

“...the lake’s water was contaminated by that tree?”

“Well… probably…” Gooey answered, not too confident. Even though he didn’t entirely understand, Gooey had a feeling. He could tell, judging by Pirka’s behavior, that the tree held a secret.

“It must’ve been the tree that made the lake water all weird!” Gooey said, bouncing up and down, “when the water becomes rain and pours down, things will be very bad! So, I-”

Gooey’s eyes looked all around. Coo nodded.

“I see. Perhaps the ingredients for Pirka’s little ‘puppet potion’ are seeping into the lake from the tree that she planted. The lake’s water contains the potion, and, if the water becomes rain and pours down on the land, all the inhabitants of the Rainbow Islands will become her servants.”

The plan was much too terrifying. Kirby and the gang were at a loss for words. While they had all fallen silent, at last, Kine broke said silence.

“Is that so~? So Gooey piled up those stones to protect everyone~.”

“Uh-huh! She tried to break the stones, but I fought back.”

“You really did that, huh?...”

Rick reached out his arms and pulled Gooey into a tight hug. Gooey could only let out a “NGYTS” in an odd voice.

“Everyone will suffer without rain, but it’s better than being Pirka’s puppet!” Rick yelled, nuzzling his cheeks against Gooey. “Thanks, Gooey!”

“...eheheh.”

Gooey felt awkward.

“Gooey plugged up the lake with the stones to stop Pirka’s evil plan,” Coo said, “she tried to destroy them, but, because Gooey was so strong, she was no match for him. So, she devised a plan.”

“She let Gooey attack her, and then fell from the sky,” Rick said, seeming frustrated, “she completely fooled us, and lured us all the way up here!”

“Indeed. She threw one of the tree’s fruits into Gooey’s throat, and it got stuck. The strategy was to get us to drive Gooey back.”

Coo looked at Gooey.

“Once you know the truth, all of Gooey’s actions and Pirka’s words make sense. When he suddenly attacked Kirby, I was shocked, but-”

Kirby nodded his head.

“Yeah! I can’t help but wonder, why did he attack us?”

“Y’see, it’s because she was gonna push Kirby in.”

“What? Pirka?”

“Yes.”

Coo nodded his head.

“At that time, Pirka was pretending to be scared, and hid behind Kirby. That would’ve given her the opportunity to push him into the lake, causing him to become her puppet.”

“No way…”

Kirby tried to re-think this. At that time, he was standing close to the lake. Pirka was hiding behind him. He had felt sorry for Pirka, who had seemed so scared, but she was just looking for a chance to push him into the lake…

“She was the one who said there was probably some bad guy hiding in the lake, right~?” Kine said, “

“Indeed,” Coo said, “at that time, Kine had tried to jump into the lake, but Gooey stopped him…. Huh?”

Coo had an odd expression.

“Wait, Gooey, at that time, you jumped out of the lake, did you not?”

“Yup. If everyone found me, we were gonna fight again, so I hid in the lake. And then Kine was about to jump in, so I had to stop him.”

“Why are you alright?”

Hearing Coo’s words, the group exchanged looks.

“Now that you mention it, it is weird,” Rick said, “if he drank some of the lakewater, he’d be under Pirka’s control, right? But even then, Gooey, why did you dive into the lake?”

“Huh? Umm?...”

Gooey tilted his head.

“Because I tried not to drink it…?”

“Even with that said, if you were under there for such a long time, wouldn’t you have drunk even a little?”

“Ummm… well…. Maybe I drank a little?”

“How are you fine then? When King Dedede and Meta Knight were controlled in an instant?”

“Er… well…?”

It seemed that even Gooey himself didn’t understand.

“I feel that Gooey is a bottomless pit of secrets,” Coo said, “perhaps Pirka’s spell doesn’t work on idiosyncrasies.”

Everyone looked at Gooey. Gooey waved his tongue around with a carefree face.

“Guess Gooey’s just different,” Rick said, “wish I was an idiosyncrasy too. Anyways, we can’t just leave things the way they are. We’ve gotta clean the lakewater.”

“What do we do?”

“Hey~ guys, I’ve got an idea!”

Kine raised his pectoral fin like a hand.

“Let’s drain the lakewater and replace it~!” he said.

“How will we do that? There’s a lot of water.”

“Is that so~? Well…”

“Anyway,” Coo said, “let’s examine that tree. It seems to be the source of the puppet spell. It may hold clues as to how to reverse it.”

Kirby and co. headed toward the tree on the lake’s shore.

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[fanfoolishness]

Growing Things

The road to recovery is a long one, but the journey is easier with good company. Steven and Connie work in the garden and discuss the past and future.  Connverse, 2797 words, a little angst, a lot of fluff.  

(A sequel to my Steven-gets-therapy stories Full Disclosure and ice cream sundaes that asks, what if Prickly Pair had occurred in a healthy way?)

***

A throb of power, a humming in his ears, a light, a song.  Rage boiled in his chest; he sobbed into his hands, gasping with the weight of it.  Pink light shimmered around him.  It built itself into a cage of lies and fears, and he flung his hands out, fingers sliding down its smooth surface.  As it closed in around him it changed into a mirror that glinted and rippled.  He tried to hide his face, but he could see how much he looked like her --

Steven woke up suddenly, breathing hard, sweaty and trembling.  I’m here, I’m here, he remembered.  He ran a shaky hand through his unruly hair, wiping the sweat away.  

A knock at the sliding door startled him, and he looked up, fighting momentary panic.  The fear dissolved when he saw Connie waving at him through the glass.  He nodded to her and she let herself in with the key he’d given her ages ago.

“Hey!” she said happily, but the smile on her face quickly faded.  “Are you okay?”  

Steven took a few breaths.  Focus, then let it go.  No feeling lasts forever.   “No,” he said, simply, honestly.  Another breath.  “Give me a minute.  I think I will be.”  

She sat down beside him, kicking off her shoes and curling up on the bed.  She leaned against him and settled her head on his shoulder. It was one of her newest favorite spots to lean on him, and he relaxed into her, his breathing slowing.  

“Another nightmare?” Connie asked, hugging him.  He dug his hands into his thighs, gripping hard at first, then gradually relaxing until his knuckles were no longer white.

“Yeah.  Not a flashback or anything. Just me, stuck in my own head.”  He paid attention to how he felt, the way Connie felt against him, the sound of his breathing, his feet flat on the floor.  

Get out of your head.  It was starting to help.

“Well, I’m here too,” Connie reassured him.  She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, then his cheek.  He grinned despite the nightmare’s memory, fighting the sudden urge to float up to the ceiling and take her with him. He turned his face to hers and kissed her, her mouth parting open beneath his, and the nightmare quickly slipped back into distant recollection.  How could he think of that when the way Connie held him was so right?

They drew apart a moment later, both slightly breathless, Connie as pink-cheeked as Steven felt.  “Thanks for coming over,” Steven said, suddenly shy.  “Even if I overslept.”

“Nah, I’m early.  I might have missed you a little bit since yesterday,” said Connie, pretending to look innocent.  Then she giggled and nudged him with her shoulder.  “Besides, I’m starting to get into this whole gardening thing with you.  These plants won’t take care of themselves… unless you’ve added any --”

Steven laughed a little, climbing out of bed.  Connie stood up beside him, slipping on her shoes.  “No, no, these ones up here are still just normal Earth plants.  No cheating.  I’ll get dressed.  Um, maybe you should --”

“Suddenly shy, Steven Universe?”  She turned around so that she couldn’t see him change, but she was blushing as she did so.  

“Um, maybe,” Steven said, his voice threatening to crack for a second.  He gulped through it, disguising it with a swallow.  Oh jeez.  “Uh, maybe I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed by my extremely handsome physique,” he blustered. Better.  

They’d only officially been dating for six and a half weeks, and he was still figuring out how to be both a friend and a boyfriend.  He wasn’t sure how exactly to do it, but it felt like he was doing okay.  Except what was this flirting thing, again?  He hoped she didn’t think he was too ridiculous.

He pulled off the light tank top he’d slept in.  Part of him half-hoped Connie would watch him get changed after all -- but that was both too exciting and too terrifying to handle just yet, so he quickly changed with his back to her, sweating again.  Where had he put that deodorant?  Ah, there it was. Phew.

“Well, it’s true,” Connie mused from across the room.  “I do think you’re handsome.”

“Come on, Connie, don’t tease me,” he said, rummaging for fresh underwear and jeans.  He put them on at lightning speed.

“I wasn’t teasing, but I can start.  Isn’t calling you handsome one of the perks of being your girlfriend?”  The way she said girlfriend was light and airy, tinged with pride and the excitement of newness.  The sound of it made him feel all floaty again.

“Can I just say that us actually dating is… it’s kinda weird, and more than a little scary, and also I really love it?  Because it’s awesome.  You’re awesome. And beautiful, and smart, and funny, and badass, and -- well, you know,” Steven said in a rush, pulling on a fresh shirt.  It got stuck temporarily on his head, and he pulled it down, his hair going every which way as he did so.  “Okay, I’m decent.”

“Decently goofy, that is,” said Connie, turning back around.  They headed out onto the deck, and she laughed brightly, one of his favorite sounds.  “I feel the same way.  It’s weird, and I get all these crazy butterflies every time I look at you, but you’re still Steven.  It’s like… being best friends plus this whole new thing where I get to hold your hand and kiss you and tease you until you blush.  I’m a big fan.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”  He bent down to examine some of the plants in their pots and planters.  He had considered growing them magically, but there was something comforting about these ones, their shades of green and blue and goldenrod a cheery sight against the Gem-constructed dome.  Maybe it was that they were content to stay here and grow where he’d asked them to; but maybe it was that there was no way they would cause problems any more severe than allergies.

“It isn’t really cheating,” Connie said, watering a row of blue and pink-blooming hydrangeas in their beds.  

“Huh?” Steven asked, nonplussed over by the burgeoning azaleas.  Their first blossoms were just starting to unfurl in shocking fuschia. 

“Using magic to grow these.  It would be okay if you did, I think.”  She paused, trailing a hand over a bundle of pink blossoms.  “Magic’s part of you just as much as being human, if that’s what you’re worried about.  It’s not wrong to use it, and it’s not wrong to not use it, you know?”

How did she always see through him?  He was glad she knew him so well, but sometimes, it made it difficult to hide.  He thought back to the sessions he’d started going to, human therapy with someone who didn’t know him, didn’t know Dad and the Gems, didn’t know any of this stuff… but someone who let Steven talk.  And one of the things he’d suggested was reconnecting to his human side.

“I know.  But I fought so hard to be a good Gem, to get control of my powers, to save the galaxy… I forgot about who I was as a human.  I guess this is me trying to figure it out, one plant at a time.  Plus my counselor thinks the whole gardening thing is a good idea.” He brushed his fingertips over the spiny leaves of a variegated aloe plant. “Thanks for helping me look into it.  Peridot’s advice was super technical, but just hanging out and taking care of plants is a little more my speed.”

She left the watering can, closing the distance between them and taking his hand.  “It’s okay if it takes time.”

“I know,” he said, and he did know it, and the thought made him glad.  There was a time, not that long ago, that he wouldn’t have believed her.  That he would have thought she wasn’t telling the truth.  “That’s why I’ve been working so hard on letting myself not work.  I really needed help.  And it feels good to be getting it.”

Connie looked down at his hand, held in her slender one.  “I’m so sorry you were struggling so much.  I knew something was wrong, I just… I didn’t know what exactly.”

He gripped her hand tighter.  “Well, my counselor says I can be really stubborn,” he laughed.  “And he says I’m really good at hiding things.  The Gems didn’t know, Dad didn’t know…”  He sighed, the laughter in his voice fading.  

Oh.  There it was, that feeling.  Steven tried to sit with it, instead of trying to shove it aside.  It was still a difficult thing for him.  “I just can’t believe I lost a whole year, feeling like that.  Empty and angry and numb….  I wish it had been different. That I’d been better at dealing with everything.  I mean, I could have been going off to college with you in fall, and we could have been dating so much sooner because I wouldn’t have been so messed up.  I wouldn’t have worried everyone so much, or scared you so much that night -- I’m really sorry -- ”

“Hey, hey hey hey,” said Connie softly.  

He looked up.  She searched his face, her brown eyes wide and earnest.  She smiled gently at him, and he realized what she meant.

“Oh man, I’m doing it again,” Steven said, shaking his head and smiling faintly.  “That thing where I assume I have to apologize if I try to talk about my feelings.  And that other thing where I assume I have to take care of everyone else’s problems instead of mine.  Ahhh, it’s really hard to unlearn!” He let go of her hand, throwing his up in the air.  “What’s that saying?  Two steps forward, one step back?  It’s annoying.”

“I think it’s really normal,” said Connie, reaching out and booping him on the nose.  He giggled.  Sure enough, the painful feeling from earlier was already starting to fade, all the less powerful for having been shared but not ruminated on.  It was a balance he worked at with every counseling visit.  More and more often, he was getting better at it.

“And I think it’s amazing you’ve worked so hard.  I can tell you have, Steven.  You just seem… like you again.  Maybe it’s a you that’s still figuring things out, but I am too,” said Connie.  “It’s not like I know everything about what I want to do.  There’s my classes now, which college to pick, my driving exam… and how much time I want to spend in space in the future versus if I want a career that’s more Earth-based… there’s a lot to think about!”

Steven kissed her on the cheek, then wiped off a bit of dirt that had gotten on her nose.  “I know it’s hard to choose -- oh man, do I know -- but I hope you know you can do anything you want, Connie. You’re so smart, and you work so hard.  Whatever you pick, you’ll be incredible.”  She flushed, but didn’t contradict him.  “And if you ever want to practice driving the Dondai, I’ll go with you any time.  I know you’ll pass it.  Stevonnie was a great driver even when we were kids, so I’m sure you’ll do great.”

She poked him in the side.  “Yeah, but it’s a little different when someone’s grading you on it.  And I think the racing moves Stevonnie’s so good at are a little frowned upon in the driving test.”

“The test wasn’t bad at all,” said Steven.  “I got dinged on a couple things, but they still passed me.  Turns out parallel parking is crazy hard when you’re used to parking on an entire beach…”

“Dork,” said Connie, smirking.

“Guilty.”

“You know, we’re not doing a very good job with the plants, Steven,” she said, glancing around them.  

“Someone’s very distracting,” said Steven, halfheartedly picking up his watering can.  “You’re just really good to talk to, and super cute, and you smell really nice --”

“Such a dork!” She went to pick up a trowel, but sighed.  “Dang it, you’re really distracting too.  Your hair’s doing this extra curly thing where it’s sticking up in the back and it’s adorable, and I keep just wanting to touch you and hold your hand --”

“Hey, I have an idea,” said Steven shyly, an idea occurring to him.  “I know a way we could be a little more productive.”

“You better not tell me to go home already, Universe,” Connie said, raising an eyebrow.  “I thought I was supposed to go to lunch with you and your dad and the Gems later.”

“What do you take me for, Maheswaren?” he scoffed.  “No.  I was thinking --” He stepped backward, leaving a little space between them, and held out his hand.  “I bet Stevonnie could focus more.”

She grinned, blinking rapidly, her eyes a little too bright.  He knew how she felt -- hopeful, eager, excited -- and a little nervous.  “Are you sure?” she asked.  “I mean -- we haven’t since….”

He took a deep breath.  “Since before I broke down?  I know.  But I think… I think I feel enough like me now that I want to try, if you do.”

Her grin deepened into a fierce, blazing expression, the type of expression that said she would take on the world.  He loved that look. “Then let’s dance.”

Their dance was slow at first, the steps a little fumbling, out of practice.  For a moment, Steven’s eagerness shifted into worry.  Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.  Maybe he still wasn’t enough of himself to fuse.  Maybe --

But Connie’s dancing was so joyful, so familiar, that his worry slipped away.  It’s okay.  I’m me.  We’re us.   A lightness filled him, a happiness so intense his eyes pricked.  He took her hand in his, and together they whirled, they spun, they fused  --

Stevonnie laughed, the sound ringing throughout the dome. It felt so good to be themselves again.  “Yes!” they crowed.  They felt so much different than they had the last time they had formed.  That day, months ago, Stevonnie had felt unsettled and strange throughout.  They had struggled to stay themselves in a way that hadn’t made sense, and they had only remained a few moments before Steven and Connie unfused.  Now they understood why, and it was a relief to once more feel like Stevonnie, confident, relaxed, at ease.

They realized things felt a little different.  “Ooh!” they said, reaching up to feel stubble on their cheeks. “Huh, might be a good look for me.”  Stevonnie reached down to touch their toes, then stood up and stretched as tall as they could.  Ahhh, that was nice.  

Stevonnie glanced around the garden, noting how little work had been done this morning.  Steven and Connie really were too much sometimes (only in the best way, of course).  “Yeah, I think it’ll be a little easier not to be distracted this way.”  They collected the watering can and the pruning shears.  

Stevonnie hummed to themselves as they made their way through the rows of Steven’s garden, watering here, pruning the occasional dead branch there.  A few plants needed some fertilizer, and Stevonnie sank their hands into the soil of each pot, relishing the feel of cool dirt against their fingertips.  A breeze played through the open door of the conservatory, its touch blowing lightly through their hair.  The morning sunlight streamed through the glass, brilliant, coruscating, lining the edges of the plants with golden light. Below them, Stevonnie could hear the surf breaking against the sand, wave after wave, the sound mingling with their humming.

Stevonnie finished with the gardening in an hour, much quicker than it would have taken Steven and Connie with all of their flirting.  They wondered what the future held for them both: Connie’s schooling and future career, Steven’s Gem and human struggles and his improvements, this new layer to their friendship that had developed recently.  So many changes, but good ones, they thought.

They looked around at the garden, feeling a warm sense of pride at how well it was doing.   Steven and Connie had worked so hard to help this place become lush and beautiful.  It had changed, too.  No longer a sterile Gem structure, it was a true garden, vibrant and alive and growing.

Stevonnie sat down cross-legged in the middle of the conservatory, surrounded by greens and pinks and yellows, scents of jasmine and rose.  The surf was steady in the background.  Stevonnie closed their eyes, considering the future, and took a moment to breathe deeply.

They smiled, calm and serene.  Maybe they didn’t have future vision, but the future seemed bright after all.

****

*

*

*

(Author’s note:

I had this rattling around in my drafts but was waiting until Prickly Pair aired to figure out what direction I wanted to go with it. WOW that episode was a gut punch, wasn’t it? So I felt I had to reimagine it in a much healthier setting since in these stories, Steven’s breakdown occurred earlier and he was willing to go to therapy. You can see he’s not 100% better — old fears and patterns slip through — but he’s social now and overall has a much better outlook.

I also thought it was important to spell out that dating wasn’t really possible until Steven had made significant improvements in his mental health, and that dating/relationships alone can’t save you from mental illness. They can help if there’s a solid foundation there, but you can’t jump into a relationship at your lowest point because your self is too wounded to be a good partner. So, this is set some months after Steven had been in therapy. They were very close before then but not officially dating yet, at least in these stories.)

[kimtanathegeek]

Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 21

These boys are growing up so fast. Have you guys noticed that Papyrus’ vocabulary and grammar has been slowly improving over the past few weeks (or chapters, in our case)? He’s such a smart cinnamon roll! :D

Thank you for reading! :)

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.  

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.  

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Sans had run through several more tests of his new magic over the next couple days, his fear diminishing with each successful attempt. The horrific images and feelings no longer rushed into his mind, and he was able to go from place to place quicker each time.

After a few tries of increasing distance, Sans took his haversack and went to the darkened area. He grabbed as many mouseshroom nightlights as he could frantically stuff into his bag and returned to the shelter, ensuring that they now had enough food for the next couple weeks.

He didn’t like leaving Papyrus alone in the shelter, but he wasn’t comfortable taking his brother with him until he was confident that the trips were safe. So he made sure each trip lasted no more than a few minutes so that he could return as soon as possible.

After half a dozen trips, Sans started feeling the fatigue of his magical drain. He was reluctant to take a piece of dried fruit, since he only wanted to use them in case of an emergency. So once he started feeling the weakness affect him, he stopped traveling for the day and rested up in the shelter.

“So, what’s it like,” Sans asked as he rested against the bed on the floor. “When I...you know...go.”

Papyrus was sitting on the floor, playing with his tiny white bones. He jumped up and illustrated with gestures.

“Sas shut eyes like dis. Den, Sas walk, an big blue fiya gobble Sas up. Den Sas gone.”

Sans stared wide-eyed at his brother for a moment before blinking.

“Well, that sounds pleasant,” he gulped.

“Yeah,” Papyrus added as he went back to play with his bones. “Is cool!”

Sans blinked again, giving a false laugh. “Yeah...‘cool’.”

He was so glad he needed his eyes shut to do this new magic. Watching himself get devoured by a large blue flame was anything but ‘cool’ to him.

“Is it the same blue as our bone magic?” he asked curiously, pushing the idea of being set on fire out of his mind.

“No,” Papyrus answered, looking up at him. “Is blue like magic Mommy an Daddy make to make Sas an Pa go floatey.”

Sans furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

His parents knew how to use blue magic—darker blue than the light blue bone magic—which they used to either deaden Sans’ and Papyrus’ weights or to float them up like feathers. Sans had not seen them use it often, except in desperate situations.

Like the time Papyrus almost crawled over a cliff during a family night outing to watch the stars. Their father had made his brother’s soul turn blue, and he watched as Papyrus was lifted up and then pulled towards their father into his arms.

Then there was the time that a fierce storm broke the living room window. Their mother made their souls blue, and both Sans and Papyrus fell onto their stomachs as if their bodies were made of stone. While the boys stayed put, their mother cleaned up the glass. Once it was safe, their souls returned to their natural white color and they were able to move again.

So the magic that transported Sans to different locations was blue? Did that mean that Sans and Papyrus could do the blue magic as well as their light blue bone magic?

Sans held out his left hand at Papyrus, who was too busy playing with his bones to notice. Sans squinted his right eye so that his left eye widened, focusing on his brother’s soul deep within his chest, picturing it becoming blue in his ribcage. He tensed his fingers, gripping the air as if clutching the little skeleton’s tiny soul, and grunted deep in his chest. With great strain coursing through his left arm, holding his breath tightly in his lungs, he raised his hand to lift his brother up off the floor and into the air.

Nothing happened. Papyrus kept playing, unaware of anything that was going on around him. Sans’ arm dropped to his side as he caught his breath.

Guess not....

Sans laid his head back against the bed, looking up at the shelter’s ceiling, thinking things over as he rested, his body still tired.

Tired from having spent his last remaining ounce of magic on his return trip to the shelter a couple hours before.

 -

 The joyous expression on Papyrus’ face would not wane.

“Now, you’ve got to make sure you do not let go,” Sans said for the umpteenth time as he paced around the little skeleton.

“Yup,” Papyrus nodded.

“And don’t pull me, I need to concentrate,” he warned, sticking his hands in his pockets, then pulling them out, only to stuff them back in again.

“Yup,” Papyrus answered.

“Don’t pull away, whatever you do,” Sans instructed, sliding his hands up and down the haversack straps around his shoulders nervously.

“Yup,” Papyrus responded.

“And whatever you do,” Sans stressed, halting his pacing to stand in front of his brother. His voice was as shaky as his body. “Don’t panic!”

“Yup,” Papyrus replied.

Sans started pacing again, running his hands over his head, wiping the sweat and fear from his skull. He tried to steady his breathing as his heart raced.

This is wrong, it’s not safe, he could get hurt, what if he ends up like I did, why am I doing this, this is crazy, I shouldn’t be doing this, what was I thinking agreeing to this, we should just stay here—

“Sas!”

Sans froze, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked over at his brother—from the stressing tone in his voice, it wasn’t the first time Papyrus had called out to him just now.

“Sas, s’okay,” his brother said soothingly, smiling at his big brother. “We be okay.”

Sans looked at the confidence in his brother’s eyes and was encouraged. He sighed gratefully and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be ok.”

He held out his hand for his brother, and Papyrus grabbed it tightly.

“Ready?”

“Yup!”

“Ok,” Sans said, taking a deep breath. “Here we go....”

Sans shut his eyes, pictured the darkened area, and internally stated his desire to be there with his brother. Gripping Papyrus’ hand as if his life depended on it—which it did—Sans took a step forward. The two skeletons were engulfed with a blast of sharp wind, the loud fwoosh hammering against them.

It was only a fraction of a second, but it felt like years to Sans. He opened his eyes and saw the glowing mushrooms, sparkling gems, and heard the distant running waters of the darkened area. But he didn’t care about any of that right now.

He fell down onto his knees in front of his brother in a panic. He held Papyrus’ skull in his hands as he looked up to inspect any damage.

“Are you ok?!” Sans gasped, eyes darting as they looked for cracks, fractures, or holes. “Are you hurt?!”

Papyrus put his hands over his brother’s, shut his eyes tight, and cried out.

“Dat was so much fun!”

Great relief washed over Sans as he pulled his brother to him, hugging him tightly.

The little skeleton hugged his brother back, finally answering his brother. “Pa okay, Sas, Pa not hurt. Sas did it!”

Sans stood back up on shaky knees, glad that his fears went unfounded. He took a deep, cleansing breath and blew out the last bit of anxiety. They were all right, that’s all that mattered.

“Ok,” Sans said, struggling to steady his voice. “Let’s go explore a little further, see what we can find. And once we get to a new place, I will be able to get back to it again, so I want to cover as much ground as we can before we go back.”

Papyrus nodded, clutching the little bag at his hip preparedly.

They walked forth, hand in hand, towards the particular area Sans had wanted to check out for a while—where the swaying plants were. As they neared, they were exactly what Sans hoped they would be.

Reeds.

A large reedbed stood situated in the middle of a path that ran through a small body of water. The reeds swayed in the gentle breezes as one organism, undulating like the waters it neighbored. Tall and thin, the shoots appeared to wave a welcome to the two skeletons as Sans stood there, smiling.

“This is perfect, Pap,” Sans said, squeezing his brother’s hand gently. “We can use these reeds for tons of stuff. And, if we’re lucky, we will be able to eat some of them.”

He looked down at his brother and noticed that the little skeleton was imitating the swaying motion with his own body. It appeared Papyrus was happy with their new discovery as well.

Sans pulled out the sharp stone from his pocket and wasted no time in cutting down a large number of the reeds. He tied thick bundles of them up with twine and attached them to his haversack. They were quite cumbersome, but Sans didn’t mind, for their benefits outweighed their burden. He didn’t bother digging up their roots, since they still had no way to boil them, so he let them remain in the ground.

They continued on, pushing past the remainder of the tall grasses and ventured deeper into the area.

It was considerably warmer than the snowy valley, and the maze of paths proved to be quite confusing. The darkness was broken only by the bioluminescent mushrooms and lucent gems, but Sans didn’t see a need to create a blue bone to light their way. Water was everywhere, running along most paths and pooling in small ponds. There were many short waterfalls that cascaded down the various walls, spraying them with their fine mist as they walked past them. Their shoes sank into the dark blue hydric soil, their footprints filling up with water with each step. Sans looked back, dismayed that their footprints were easily trackable, but saw no way to prevent it.

Many of the gems were scattered on the ground, loose from their confines in the rocky walls. Sans picked one up, and he and Papyrus marveled at how it lit up in his hand. It wasn’t just reflecting light—it was creating it.

“Look, Pap,” he said, watching the blue light in his brother’s eyes. “It’s just like our magic.”

Figuring they would be useful, the two brothers collected as many as they could find, stuffing them into their bags. They found multiple blue gems that shone with the same blue-white light as skeleton magic, and a few pink gems—which were not as common as the blue ones.

Many of the paths ran alongside steep cliffs, and Sans had to keep Papyrus on his other side for fear of him slipping off into the unknown. Waterways emptied out over these cliffs, creating narrow waterfalls. Sans gulped as he could hear the rushing of the waters as they poured over the side, but no splashing came from below. It was if the entire area was suspended above an enormous bottomless pit. Sans shuddered, hoping that none of the paths gave way under their feet, sending them down into nothingness.

Papyrus was in awe at the snaking paths, thin walkways, and treasure trove of glowing gems to be found. He found the area fascinating, albeit quite humid. His head panned side to side, eyes wide with wonder, not at all like his brother’s cautious, somewhat timid reaction to this new place.

After several hours of exploring paths, backtracking dead ends, and avoiding perilous drops, Sans decided to call it a day. He studied the area they were in so that he could picture it when he needed to transport back here.

In a few short moments, they were back in the snowy valley, right next to their shelter, the wintry chill sending shivers up their spines. It was a drastic change of temperature, and they had acclimated to the warmer climate in the darkened area.

“Woo!” Sans said, rubbing the sides of his upper arms. “That wind sure is bone-chilling!”

Papyrus gave a shaky giggle through chattering teeth.

They entered the shelter, warming up with the heat emanating from the ever-present magical flame. Sans took off his haversack and grabbed their soaked, muddy shoes, bringing them into the fire room. He took handfuls of snow and washed them as best he could, telling himself that they should wash them in the waters of the darkened area next time before coming heading home. Then he set them against the wall to dry.

Papyrus had emptied the lucent gems onto the floor and was lit up in blue and pink hues. He took each one into his hands and scrutinized them, turning them around this way and that. Sans smiled at his curiosity and wonderment over the gems.

Sans, however, was most excited about the reeds. He untied the bundles and sat on the floor, separating the young, edible shoots from the drier, older ones.

He heaved a sigh, remembering when his mother taught him to work with reeds she would collect at the nearby lake. Reminiscing, he felt a pang of sadness as he held them in his hands, tracing their shoots with his fingers. There was never a day that went by that he didn’t miss his mother terribly.

Blinking back tears, he set back to his task. He was mildly frustrated because he realized he wasn’t able to do too much with the reeds because of their tool limitations and his lack of skill. He did, however, know that raw young, green shoots were edible—and a little sweet, too—and that dried reeds could be made into woven items, like baskets—which they desperately needed. But he couldn’t boil them, or make flour from them, couldn’t even make those sugary sweets with them that they liked—he stopped himself from continuing the list, getting far too discouraged with what he couldn’t do, and forgetting what he could do with them.

Sighing, he stripped the leaves off to burn, and tied the older shoots in small bundles with twine at one end. He got up and went into the fire room and hung the bundles up on the warming rack bones so that they would dry out completely. He tossed the leaves and broken, useless pieces into the fire basin and watched as the flames lapped them up. He checked on the pine cones and saw that they would be fully dried out any day now, then went back to the green shoots.

There weren’t too many, and they weren’t the best food, but it was an addition to their already limited diet. And Papyrus might like them, even if they weren’t boiled like the ones they’d eaten in the past had been. He stood them up against the pantry wall and returned to his haversack.

He dumped out the gems, their amusing glow burning away the last bits of frustration he held. Papyrus was right to be in awe—they were fascinating. He’d never seen anything like these before, and he wondered if they were products of monster magic or an incredible part of the natural world. He spent some time going through them, wiping away loose stone and dirt from their edges and shining them with the snow on his pants to enhance their light.

Soon they prepared dinner—Papyrus roasting mushrooms in the fire room and Sans at the prep table tearing up half a reed shoot into smaller pieces and shaping some gem-shaped snow treats for dessert.

Sans was right, Papyrus enjoyed the sweet, crunchy reeds. They went surprisingly well with the mushrooms—Sans figured this made sense since they came from the same habitat. It was a good addition to their food supply, and Sans was happy for that.

They played together after dinner, then got ready for bed. Sans put the gems in the fire room so the light wouldn’t keep them awake as Papyrus smoothed out the fabrics that would cover them. Sans settled into bed, then raised his left hand up to make his blue bones disappear, darkening the room. Papyrus pulled up the fabrics and they settled in for a well-deserved night’s sleep.

Sans hugged his brother, nuzzling the top of his head. He sighed in gratitude that he had not only gotten better enough with his magic that he could forage again, but that his brother was safe after transporting. He hoped Papyrus would never experience the horror he had suffered, and was immensely glad his brother had been spared that pain.

The two brothers drifted off to sleep, too tired and content for dreams or nightmares play out in their minds.

 -

 It was distant. The groaning. The shouting. The creaking. It played in the recesses of Sans’ mind.

It got louder. The sounds drifted into his senses like a far-off dream.

The loud crunching sound is what woke both of them up with a start.

The two skeletons nearly jumped out of bed at the terrifying noise. If they hadn’t been in the belly of a mountain, Sans would have thought it was thunder. They sat there, confused and shaking, the sounds of their gasping breaths echoing off the shelter walls.

“Sas?” Papyrus’ whisper was tinged with a scared whine. “Wass dat?”

Before he could answer, they heard muffled shouting.

“Shh!” Sans shushed urgently, though he need not have done. Papyrus was frozen in fear, too afraid to make a sound.

Neither of them moved or breathed. Sans’ ears were straining to decipher more sounds.

Another groaning—what was that?—then more creaking. Silence followed, then another loud crash, startling them again.

Sans turned to his brother. “Papyrus, do not move, do not make a sound, do not leave here. I am going to check it out. Do not come out. If it’s danger, I will come get you, but do not leave without me.” His voice shook, betraying his panic.

Papyrus nodded, tears brimming his eyes.

Sans slipped out of the bed slowly, expecting someone to burst into the shelter at any moment. He crept to the opening, wincing as the sounds continued. Formulating escape plans for him and his brother, he crawled out the opening and dug a small hole in the entrance. Peeking through to make sure no one was outside, he then dug the rest out and cautiously poked out his head.

The sounds were louder, but came from far behind him—near the cavern. He stood up on shaky legs, making sure no one was around, and closed the entrance back up. He inched his way around the shelter, then the boulder, and looked towards the cavern.

His eyes widened as he saw the source of the noise.

The forest near the cavern had thinned out. He could see movement within the trunks, but they were too far away for him to see clearly. There was shouting, but he couldn’t make out any words. Then he heard the groaning sound again—and saw the top of one of the trees leaning. There was an aching, creaking sound as the tree fell, then all was quiet. Suddenly, the loud crash of the tree hitting the ground resonated through the valley.

The monsters were cutting down the trees. They were back out in the valley again.

Sans rushed back into the shelter. He calmly told Papyrus what was going on as he grabbed his jacket. Papyrus relaxed a little until Sans told him he was heading back out again.

“I’m going to watch them, make sure they don’t go any further than the trees. You stay here, get some more sleep, and stay safe. The moment they start heading for the shelter, I will come back here and we’ll escape to the darkened area until it’s safe to come back. But you need to stay here while I watch them. Ok?”

“Kay...,” Papyrus whimpered, fear rising in him at the thought of being caught.

Sans finished shoving on his shoes and went over to the bed and hugged his brother tightly.

“I love you, Papyrus. No matter what happens, we’ll get through this. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

“Love you, too,” Papyrus whimpered in Sans’ chest.

Sans went back to the opening, turning to his brother one last time.

“Stay here, stay safe. I’ll be back soon.”

Sans could see his brother nodding in the dimly lit room.

Sans left, sealed the opening, stood up, and, with a step, disappeared.

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

Deck the Halls With Doom

ZADR // 1.4k // based on this holiday classic // AO3

By now, Dib was pretty used to being woken up in the middle of the night by the thwack of something hitting his window – tacos, rubber pigs, rocks with Irken profanities – but were those flowers? That was a new one.

Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, he stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, pulling his coat on over his pyjamas as he opened the door – and stepped right into a thick blanket of mistletoe. The entire street was covered in the stuff; it hung from every window and doorway, falling off roofs and clogging up chimneys. And it didn’t take long to figure out where it was coming from: merrily ploughing through the leaf-filled road was some kind of tank with three rotating cannons, ruthlessly pumping out mistletoe under the questionable command of a very familiar-looking...

“Zim?”

“Ah! Dib-stink!” His alien nemesis waved like the world’s worst Christmas float, eyes lighting up with malicious glee. “You’re just in time to witness Zim’s complete and total annihilation of your miserable dirt-clod!”

“With mistle – whoa!” Dib just managed to duck before a bullet-like barrage of mistletoe smacked him in the face, hitting the door instead. “Didn’t you already try the whole stealing Christmas thing?” Even by Zim’s twisted logic, this was a weird way to do it. It was a big mess, sure, and could probably cause a couple road accidents, but unless all the mistletoe was rigged to explode, this was way down the list of diabolical schemes.

Zim seemed satisfied, however, as he hopped off the vehicle, looking over his leafy kingdom proudly with his hands on his hips. “Take the wheel, GIR!”

“I would, buuut I eated it!” GIR yelled, waving cheerfully as he dangled from one of the cannons from the tail of his dog disguise.

“...Yes.” Zim pursed his lips, only looking briefly concerned as the tank and GIR rolled out of sight before turning his attention back to Dib's question. “So it may seem, to inferior minds like yours! But that was –”

“...a total failure?”

“Only phase one of my master plan!” he continued, undeterred. “As soon as the rest of your fellow Earth-monkeys step outside, they will have no choice but to fight, as the mistle-foe dictates! Before long, they’ll destroy each other, and your pathetic planet will surely perish at the merciless hands of Zim!”

Well, that made...even less sense than usual. Dib lifted a sceptical eyebrow. “Zim, how does that even – do you think people fight under mistletoe?”

“Eh?” Zim paused mid-maniacal cackle, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “Obviously! Are you unfamiliar with the pointless practices of even your own kind, Dib-worm? What other function could this mistle-foe possibly serve?”

Dib just stared at him for a moment, and then he started to laugh – and couldn’t stop, thanks to the increasing bewilderment of Zim’s expression, until he was doubled over, clutching his sides and cackling like a madman. “Oh my god, Zim, you – you are the galaxy’s biggest idiot!”

For a split second, Zim looked genuinely crestfallen, his face crumpling to a puzzled pout before he let out a strangled kind of growl. 

“Cease the bellowing of your stinky meat-hole!” he demanded, kicking up mistletoe as he marched over. “Impossible! Then what is the purpose of these plants? Explain yourself, human!”

“Okay, okay…” Dib took a deep breath, managing to compose himself. “First of all, it’s not like I invented mistletoe. And actually what most people call mistletoe isn’t technically – but anyway, not the point. You’re supposed to – I mean, people usually…” He cleared his throat, laughter petering out as he felt his face grow warm under the unrelenting laser beam of Zim’s eyes. “Kiss.”

“...Kiss?!” Zim echoed, recoiling in horror as his face contorted into a grimace like he’d just stepped on a Lego and bit into a lemon at the same time. “You’re lying!”

“Why would I make that up?!”

“Zim sees straight through your ruse, Dib-filth!” He jabbed an accusing claw into Dib’s chest, although it wasn’t quite as intimidating now the top of his wig barely came up to his chin. “You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?”

“I...what?” Was he actually saying – man, this was starting to feel way too much like one of Dib’s more...confusing dreams, scarlet now blazing across his face to the tips of his ears. “That’s insane – I mean, more insane than usual! I don’t wanna kiss you!” Zim would probably be a terrible kisser anyway – not that he’d thought about it before, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about it now and they needed to terminate this conversation immediately.

“Is that so?” Zim took a step closer, barely an inch now between them. Dib tensed, a shiver that maybe wasn’t strictly the cold tingling down his spine as Zim placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression shifting into a smirk that was both dangerously familiar and new in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “Then how do you explain...this!” 

“Ow - quit it!” Before Dib could pull away, Zim reached up and yanked at his hair, throwing a sprig of mistletoe back in his face with totally unjustified triumph. “Oh, c’mon – you just shot me with that!”

Zim scoffed as if to say yeah, right, but he still didn’t move out of Dib’s space. “The mistle-foe has spoken! We will battle – with our mouths!”

“That’s stupid and there’s no way I’mmmmph...!”

Dib was abruptly and painfully cut off as Zim seized him by the collar and pulled him down, sinking his sharp teeth straight into his bottom lip. He let out a muffled yelp, instinctively grabbing Zim’s jaw in an attempt to prise him off, but somehow they melted into – well, a kiss, heated and messy, way too much teeth and tongue. Zim’s hand snaked around Dib’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, digging his claws into the tender spot right on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Dib slid his hand up to tangle in Zim’s crappy wig, feeling for his antennae and tugging in retaliation. 

Zim made a noise like nothing he’d never heard before, something between a moan and a chirp that vibrated against Dib’s lips and huh okay that was definitely new but also kind of not-terrible and – oh – oh no...

They broke apart, holding an uncomfortable moment of eye contact. Zim blinked, eyes wide and an olive flush dusting his cheeks, silent for maybe longer than Dib had ever heard him, which was somehow both unsettling and weirdly satisfying. His wig was askew, a hint of antennae poking out until he tugged it back into place. Finally, he spoke:

“Ha! I win!”

“Wha – huh…” Dib felt like his brain was buffering, still struggling to process the fact that he just kissed Zim, or Zim kissed him, and the throbbing in his lower lip made him at least 99.5% sure this wasn’t a dream. “You didn’t win! How do you even reach that conclusion?”

Zim stuck his tongue out at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes only adding insult to injury. “You pulled away first.”

“No I didn’t! I mean – ugh – that’s not how this –” Dib groaned, dragging both hands through his hair and over his face. He should probably be freaking out more about this. He should at least move away, because it was probably some weird alien pheromones making him wonder what other noises he could get Zim to make, and before he could do something really dumb like – “Fine. You wanna go again?”

There’d be time for freakouts later, hours of analysis and dissection to determine exactly how doomed he was.

But right now, ankle-deep in mistletoe with no shoes on at 4am, Dib had both a score to settle and a surprisingly effective way of shutting Zim up.

So maybe Christmas miracles really were a thing, after all.

[cruciatuscurse]

Dissonance

·         Rating: All

·         Warnings: Slight mentions of abuse. Sweet Pea is 17 and his sister is 15.

·         Pairing: Jughead/OC

·         Summary: Sweet Pea’s sister helps Jughead’s transition to the Southside.

“You’re a loser, you’re never going to amount to anything!” Their father screamed, the smell of alcohol lingering on her breath.

“You’re a drunk, you don’t even know what you’re saying half the time,” Sweet Pea snarled in return. “How about laying off the Jingle Jangle and getting a job? Actually take care of your children.”

“You think you’re a tough guy, is that it?” He stood up from the tattered armchair, swaying slightly, his eyes filled with rage. “You’re old enough to get the hell out. You think you can do it on your own, be my guest. But don’t ever come crawling back here, you worthless-“

The words were deflated on his lips as Sweet Pea punched their father in the gut, making him fall over. The two were rolling on the floor, with Sweet Pea on top, letting his anger out on the source of his growing aggression. Only the cries of his sister silenced him, as he looked up and met her fearful eyes from the doorway of their room. He immediately got up, slowly approaching her, ignoring the groans of the broken man on the floor.

“Hey bug,” he said quietly, taking her in his arms. “You should be asleep. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“What’s going on, Pea?” She asked softly, the tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. We’re finally getting out of this dump,” he promised, guiding her back to their bed.

She laid down hesitantly, allowing him to cover her body with the large quilt. He tucked her in silently, his dark eyes pensive, and she found herself looking up at him. He brushed her bangs out of her face, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Are we really going to leave?” She whispered hopefully and he nodded.

“Yes. I’m moving out, and I’m taking you with me,” he promised her, standing to his feet. “I’ve got to go for the night. I’ll be back for you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” She still felt uneasy, with so many unanswered questions floating around her head, but she trusted him. They were all they had.

“If he comes in here, you run, okay?” He instructed and she nodded obediently. He let out a sigh, nodding to himself, before he grabbed his duffel bag from the floor. He locked the door before he closed it, leaving her in darkness. She couldn’t help the tear that escaped her eye.

“Wake up, lazy.” She awoke with a start as he hit her with a pillow. Groaning, the teenager fixated her dark eyes on her smirking older brother.

“It’s Saturday. What the hell are you doing waking me up before noon on a Saturday?” She complained, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Jeez. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he joked, sitting down beside her. “I’ve got business to take care of. You need to stay safe and keep your head down. Maybe clean this place up, go grocery shopping..”

“What am I, a housewife?” She groaned and he rolled his eyes.

“More like a drama queen. You said you wanted to pull your weight around here,” he reminded her, reaching into his back pocket.

“I meant getting a job,” she replied pointedly and he shook his head.

“No way. I’m not letting my kid sister get a job at fifteen, that’s embarrassing.” His chest puffed up and she rolled her eyes. “I can take care of the both of us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, her mind drifting, and he smiled.

“Here.” He handed her a few hundred dollar bills. At her eager look, he said pointedly, “for groceries.”

“I heard you the first time.” She accepted the bills, counting them. Her eyes glanced up at him. “How long are you gonna be gone this time?”

“Not long,” he assured her, standing up. “I’ll be back, probably early this morning. Just don’t do anything dumb while I’m gone, and try not to wreck the trailer, okay? We don’t need anymore holes in the walls.”

“That was you,” she pointed out, standing up too.

“Exactly. Learn from my mistakes.” He grinned before heading for the door. “Love ya.”

“Love you too,” she called back, glancing at herself in the mirror before she sighed. “Groceries.”

After a hot shower (a long one, since Sweet Pea wasn’t around to bug her about it), she changed into a pair of ripped up jeans and a black tank top. She tied her long, bone straight black hair up into a ponytail, exposing the many piercings in her ears, and she slipped her feet into a pair of beat up black Converse by the door. She slung her purse loosely over her shoulder, stuffing the money and a small paper into it before she pulled the door open. She squinted at the sunlight, locking the door behind her before venturing into town.

The store wasn’t too far, thankfully, and they didn’t need much. She pulled the paper out of her purse, reading the small, neat handwriting listing all she’d came for. Forty-five minutes later she walked out, gripping four full bags in her hands.

The walk back to Sunnyside was uneventful, with most of her neighbors most likely sleeping the past night off, and she walked with a lazy saunter. She unlocked her front door, ignoring the sound of another door in the lot opening, until she saw a flash of black fur escape from behind it.

“Bartholomew!” She shouted, quickly setting her bags down just beyond the door. “Get back here!”

The door billowed in the wind, slowly closing itself, as the girl ran after Bartholomew. She was headed straight for the neighboring trailer, where the furball seemed to become interested. Standing in the doorway was a boy, who wore a beanie over his dark hair and a puzzled expression. The black cat was in his arms, purring, and he glanced from it to the girl. He was cute.

“Sorry, Bartholomew gets ahead of himself sometimes,” she said sheepishly, standing on the step below him.

“No problem. He’s a sweet guy,” he offered in turn, scratching behind Bartholomew’s ears. “I’m Jughead Jones. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

She looked mildly surprised. So this was Jughead. She gave him her name before pointed to her trailer. “I live right over there with my brother. I didn’t know you lived here.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, gesturing to the bag slung over his shoulder. “I was just getting some stuff.”

“I see.” She had heard rumors about the Serpent King, but she was mostly kept in the dark about that sort of thing. She wondered if maybe the rumors were true. “Well, I’ll take him off your hands. I’m sure you’ve got more important places to be.”

“Sure.” Jughead chuckled, handing the resting cat over to its pretty owner.

“I’ll see you around then,” she replied, giving him a coy smile before she began walking to her trailer.

“See you around,” he called back, watching her until she went inside. With a sigh, he shut the trailer door and began walking.

The next time she saw more than a glimpse of Jughead Jones, he had a tray in his hands and a frown on his lips. His hair was longer and the bags underneath his eyes gave him a brooding look. She knew all about his less than warm welcome the other day when Toni was showing him around, but she had a good feeling about the resigned look on his face. She exchanged a look with Toni, one that the other boys at their table couldn’t read, before standing up.

“Jones,” she called, attracting the attention of the boys surrounding her. A smile spread across her face as she gestured to the space beside her.

A grateful smile tugged at his lips, perhaps at seeing a familiar face or a space among the chaos, and he was soon taking a seat with the other Serpents.

“Smartening up and sitting with the good guys, I see,” she teased, making Toni laugh.

Jughead playfully rolled his eyes. “I may have seen the logic in Toni’s reasoning.”

“Good.” She drummed her fingers against the tabletop, black nail polish contrasting with her lightly tanned skin. She noticed how Sweet Pea was eyeing her, clearly trying to read her motives, and she avoided his eyes. “You blending in with the Southside yet?”

“Well, I’m not sure if what I’m eating is a solid or a liquid,” he began, wrinkling his nose as he pushed the tray away from himself. “But you are looking at the newest member of the Red and Black. All I need now is a photographer with an amazing eye and a hunger for social justice.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” Toni said with a smile, and the three shared a laugh.

Jughead’s attention turned to her as he added, “I don’t know if you’re interested in writing at all, but..”

“Maybe,” she surmised, before she stood up. “Come on.”

He quirked an eyebrow but did as she said. She led him outside the back entrance, where they were completely alone. There, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. She raised the cigarette to her mouth, lighting it and slowly taking a drag. As Jughead hadn’t taken his eyes off her, she held the cigarette out to him.

He almost seemed like he was going to decline, before he took it and copied her actions. Unlike her, his drag was not so smooth and resulted in him coughing repeatedly.

Laughing to herself, she patted his back. “Not a big smoker?”

“Not exactly,” he replied, handing the cigarette back to her.

She continued to smoke, allowing the smoke to cloud above them, before she asked, “now how are you really doing?”

Jughead hesitated for a moment before he sighed. “It still feels like my life is falling apart,” he admitted. “Things with my dad…it’s bad. The Ghoulies attacked me, I don’t fully fit in with the Serpents or the Northside, and it feels like I’m drowning in my own head.”

She nodded sympathetically. Looking pensive, she questioned, “does anyone really ever fit in? I think we’re all trying to earn our stripes,” she quoted Fangs. “Even if we’re trying to earn them for different reasons. Everyone’s got a struggle, some are just better at hiding it than others.  Know what you’ve got to do? You’ve got to own it. Secure your own spot.”

He was quiet for a moment, seemingly digesting her words.

Putting out her cigarette, she motioned for him to follow her again. “Come on.”

This time, he asked, “where are we going?”

“A little skipping is healthy now and then,” she replied, and at his hesitant look, she laughed. “You’re not seriously going to tell me you’d rather be here, are you?”

“It’s not that. I haven’t been a student here very long and I’m trying to blend in,” he reminded her, making her laugh.

“If you want to blend in, then you’ll skip. That’ll blend you right in with the current student body,” she joked, making him laugh.

He admired her side profile as they exited the campus. Her dark hair was down, though tucked behind her ears, and he noted the jewelry adorning them. He could tell she was wearing makeup, but it wasn’t the amateur cakey kind. It drew attention to her dark eyes and full lips.

His attention was drawn back to their surroundings when she led him to Pickens Park, making him raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not planning on killing me, are you?” He joked and she rolled her eyes.

“Please. If I was going to kill you, it wouldn’t be in a park.” She smirked at him, dropping her backpack on the park bench, and he deposited his beside it.

She ran to one of the swings, sitting on it immediately, and he snorted. “So the cool girl at Southside high likes to relive her childhood at local junkie parks? Interesting.”

“Hey, you’re never too old to swing,” she defended. “Now get over here and push me!”

Laughing, he rolled his eyes and complied. He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath her the thin fabric of her black tank top. She’d taken her old flannel off, tying it around her waist, and he could see a tattoo on her shoulder. She looked genuinely happy, kicking her legs as he pushed her on the swing, and it made him wonder. Without warning, she jumped off, landing hard on her feet.

“Whoa. You could’ve hurt yourself,” he scolded and she laughed.

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But the thrill of that moment, being free..it’s addicting.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine and the words automatically fell from his lips. “How’s Bartholomew?”

She laughed. “He’s good. Still being a bad cat, but I think that’s a trait learned from his owner. You should stop by sometime and see him, whenever you’re in the neighborhood.”

“I live in Sunnyside again,” he confirmed, and she looked pleased. “So maybe you could bring him over.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They sat on the small jungle gym, side by side, discussing life on the Southside. He liked watching her expressions. Her eyes truly were the windows to her soul.

“You’re not a Serpent,” he observed, and she laughed.

“I’m not,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “My brother would kill me if I joined a gang.”

“You seem so close with them, though,” Jughead pointed out and she looked at him.

“Joining a gang is serious business,” she explained. “It’s not just a club or after school function. It’s a commitment you have to make for life. My brother..he had his reasons for joining, but he doesn’t want me to be apart of that. I can’t say I blame him.”

“But if it was your choice?” Jughead pressed and she smiled.

“I’m already an honorary Serpent. I’m bound, whether I have a jacket or not. It might be in a different way than he is, but I’m bound nonetheless,” she revealed, looking wistfully into the distance. The sun was shining their way and he could see the flecks of amber in her eyes. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah.” He seemed satisfied, but she could tell something was still on his mind. Though from what she knew about him, he seemed to always have something on his mind.

“I should walk you back home,” he announced, as the end of school was upon them.

“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” she teased, taking his hand and letting him help her stand. They retrieved their backpacks from the park bench and started the walk back to Sunnyside. The walk was quiet, but not unpleasant.

As they reached her door, Jughead said, “thanks for all this.”

She nodded. “Any time.”

“I think I’ve made my mind up,” he called, and she smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just figured you’d like to know.”

She smiled appreciatively, glancing at him as he looked intently at her. “Bye, Jones.”

He chuckled. “Bye.”

As she shut the door he wandered over to his trailer, his head spinning.

“Good luck tonight,” she was telling Jughead, fixing his collar.

“You’re all dressed up for the occasion,” he noted, eyeing her in the little black dress and boots she wore.

“I always dress up for initiations,” she assured him with a smile, He easily returned it. “Go get em, tiger.”

With her blessing, he went to stand and wait for the gauntlet to start. Toni joined her friend, who was eagerly looking on.

“He’s something,” Toni said casually, to which she agreed. Glancing at her, Toni added, “you guys have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t you?”

“Shut up, Topaz,” she said with a roll of her eyes and Toni laughed. Toni handed her his Serpent jacket, raising her eyebrows, and she snatched it from her hands.

She wandered over to the bruised up new Serpent, who turned to look at her. A smile spread across her face. “Welcome to the family, Jones.”

He took the jacket gratefully, sliding it over his shoulders as the Serpents cheered. She admired him in the leather before rejoining Toni at the bar. The two girls talked quietly, until she heard the clearing of a throat behind her. She turned, seeing Jughead with a sheepish look on his face.

“I need to get cleaned up,” he told her. “Do you mind helping me?”

She smiled. “Not at all.”

He nodded, slowly walking away, and she turned to exchange a look with Toni, who promptly offered her a shot. After downing it, she sauntered after Jughead, ignoring her brother’s watchful eyes.

Jughead led her into the empty trailer, walking to the fridge and getting ice for his bruised face. She sat at the table beside him, studying him carefully. Breaking the silence, she asked, “do you think you did the right thing?”

Nodding, he turned to look at her. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good.” She smiled in satisfaction.

She moved closer to him, gently grabbing the ice bag from him. She sat on the table in front of him, looking at his bruises carefully as she gently applied ice to them. His eyes traveled up her body, lingering on her face. His palms gently came to rest on her warm thighs and he leaned up, pressing his lips against hers.

For a moment, she froze. Then, she let the bag fall to the floor with a hard thud as she raised her hands to his face, kissing him back. His hands gripped her thighs, tugging her close, as they kissed deeply. There was a fire in their eyes when she pulled away, and a devious smirk made its way onto her face as she hopped off the table, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

The next morning, she woke up beside Jughead. He was snoring soundly, his black hair a mess, shirtless but with his jeans still on. She sat up silently, stretching, so as not to wake him. She reached for her phone, making sure she didn’t have any calls or texts, before she heard a knock on the door. Not wanting to wake him, she quickly hopped out of bed and made her way to the front door. She quickly ran her fingers through her dark tresses, making them settle. She was only wearing Jughead’s shirt, which she was painfully aware of as she pulled the door open just a bit.

On the other side of it was a wide eyed blonde. The two stared at each other for a moment before she spoke. “Can I help you?”

“I was looking for Jughead,” the blonde said with a forced smile. “But I guess he’s busy at the moment.”

“He is,” she assured her, immediately placing her as the elusive Betty Cooper, aka Jughead’s Northside ex. She crossed her arms, an amused smile on her face. “I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Betty said quickly, turning away from her.

Biting back another sassy remark, she rolled her eyes and shut the door. That was a problem for another day. She had begun to walk to the bedroom when Jughead emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Who was that?” He asked with a yawn, and she shrugged.

“Wrong house,” she replied, approaching him and giving him a kiss. He seemed surprised, but he placed his arm around the girl. Pulling away, she said, “let’s get you cleaned up. We may have neglected that last night.”

Chuckling, he followed her to the kitchen.

[organiclifestylemagazine]

Interview With Joel Salatin, Polyface Farms

Joel Salatin is an American farmer and author. He owns Polyface Farms, which is known for its small scale unconventional farming methods. Months ago I heard Joel on a Joe Rogan podcast and was immediately blown away. It’s not very often that we hear people discuss the gut microbiome on one of the most popular podcasts in the country.

Here’s that podcast. I highly recommend listening to it if you have the time.

Along with discussing the gut microbiome, Joel talked about his farm, Polyface Farms. Polyface Farms is located in Virginia, and they do things a little differently than most. The land that is now Polyface farms was purchased by Joel’s parents in 1961. They’re all about regenerative farming through sustainable practices, like pasture-raised meat, carbon sequestration, and working in a seasonal cycle.

In short, it’s a dream come true for someone like myself who is all about organic eco-friendly agriculture, so naturally, I had to ask Joel a couple of questions.

The older generation is a big fan of talking about life when they were young. My grandfather loves to talk about the fact that he was raised on cow’s milk, and he turned out “just fine.” The difference, of course, is that the milk he was raised on was unpasteurized small scale cows milk. What encouraged you to get into small scale sustainable farming? Does it relate back to how you were raised or did you have some sort of revelation in life? Feel free to comment on how things have changed if you have any thoughts on that.

My paternal grandfather was a charter subscriber to Rodale’s Organic Gardening and Farming Magazine when it came out in the late 1940s.  He always wanted to farm but never did.  He had a very large garden, though, and sold extra produce to neighbors and corner grocers.  My dad received his no-chemical indoctrination, then, from Grandpa, so I’m the third generation in the compost tradition.  My Dad was a financial wizard and did accounting work all his life.  After flying Navy bombers in WWII, he went to Indiana University on the GI bill and then headed off to Venezuela, South America as a bilingual accountant with Texas Oil Company.  His long-range goal was a farm in a developing country and Venezuela seemed as good as any.  After about 7 years he’d saved up enough to buy 1,000 acres in the highlands of Venezuela and began farming.  The goal was dairy and broilers. My older brother and I were born during that time, and things looked bright.  But then came a junta and the ouster of Peres Jimenez and animosity toward anything American; we fled the back door as the machine guns came in the front door; lost everything and after exhausting all attempts at protection, (we) came back to the U.S. Easter Sunday 1961, landing in Philadelphia. Mom grew up in Ohio and Texas and all their family was in Ohio and Indiana, but Dad’s heart was still in Venezuela and he hoped after the political turmoil settled to be able to return to our farm.  

With that in mind, he wanted to be within a day’s drive of Washington D.C. so he could get to the Venezuelan Embassy quickly and easily to do paperwork and return. That never happened, but it’s why we ended up in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.  When I hit 41, I remember thinking: “If I lost it all, would I start over?” That’s what Dad and Mom did in 1961. I was 4.  Dad did his accounting work, and Mom was a high school health and physical ed teacher; that off-farm income paid the mortgage and within 10 years the land was paid off.  Dad combined his ecology with his economic understanding to create some broad principles: animals move; mobile infrastructure; direct marketing; carbon-driven fertility.  I had my first flock of laying hens when I was 10 years old and then added a garden.  By 14 years old, I was our main salesman at the local Curb Market, a Depression-era hold-over that foreshadowed today’s farmers’ markets.  With only 3 vendors, it struggled but after a couple of years, we had a growing and steady clientele for our pastured meats, poultry, eggs, produce, and dairy products (yogurt, butter, cottage cheese). We closed it down when I went off to college and the other two elderly matrons at the market quite as well so by the time I came home, that market and all of its wonderful grandfathered food safety exemptions were gone forever.

I’ve always said we were about 20 years ahead of our time.  Operating that market during my teen years of early 1970s as the nascent back-to-the-land hippie movement germinated was not easy, but the lessons were invaluable when I returned to the farm and started building a clientele on my own in 1980, long before modern farmers’ markets. Teresa and I married in 1980, remodeled the attic of the farmhouse, and lived there for 7 years until Mom and Dad moved out from downstairs to a mobile home parked outside the yard.  My Mom’s mother had lived there for 10 years and passed away, making that spot available.  As an investigative reporter at the local daily newspaper, I realized every business was desperate for people who would show up on time, put in a full days’ work without whining, and actually creatively think through better ways of doing things all made me highly employable.  Living on $300 a month, driving a $50 car, growing all of our own, cutting our own firewood for winter warmth, not having a TV—all these things enabled us even without a high salary to squirrel away half the paycheck.  Within a couple of years we had saved enough to live on for a year.  I walked out of that office Sept. 24, 1982, with a one-year cash nest egg and the jeering of every person I knew”  “He’s throwing his life away.”  “All that talent and he’s going to waste it on a farm.” “Don’t you know you can’t make any money farming?”

We succeeded. 

While we were watching the podcast you did with Joe Rogan, my dad and I had several “Wow!” moments listening to you. One of us would be in the kitchen, and we would run into the living room where the podcast was playing, and share a look of absolute awe. “This guy is talking about the stuff that we talk about! And he’s on Joe Rogan!” We don’t know many people who talk about gut health the way we do. How did you learn about the importance of the body’s microbiome? Is there a correlation between your knowledge of the microbiome and how you run your farm? 

Perhaps the most profound truth in life is that everything we see floats in an ocean of invisible beings.  With electronic microscopes, we can now see many of these things, but because we can’t see them with the naked eye, they are not in our momentary conscience.  It’s hard to forget the microbes floating in the air, on our skin, in our eyes, nostrils, and intestines.  Our farm’s wellness philosophy stems from Antoine Béchamp, the French contemporary and nemesis of Louis Pasteur.  While Pasteur promoted the germ theory and busied himself destroying and sterilizing, Beauchamp advanced the terrain theory and encouraged people to think about basic immunity.  Rather than sterilization, he encouraged sanitation.  He encouraged folks to get more sleep, drink more and better water (much of the water at that time was putrid) and eat better food.  Along came Sir Albert Howard half a century later adding the soil dimension to this basic wellness premise.

In general, we believe nature’s default position is fundamentally wellness and if it’s not well, we humans probably did something to mess it up.  That’s a far cry from assuming wellness is like catching lightning in a bottle, and some sort of sickness fairy hovers over the planet dropping viral stardust willy nilly.  Sickness and disease, whether in humans, plants, or animals are not the problem in and of themselves; they simply manifest weaknesses developed in the unseen world.  Every sickness or disease we’ve ever had on our farm was our fault.  We may have selected the wrong seedstock, crowded things, created incubators for pathogens.  You can stress things a lot of different ways.  But our assumption when confronted with non-wellness is not to assume we missed a vaccine or a pharmaceutical, but rather to ask “what did we do to break down the immunological function of this plant or animal?”  That leads to far more profound truth than assuming we didn’t select the right connection from the chemistry lab.

The fact that today people actually talk about the microbiome in polite company is a fantastic societal breakthrough. Hopefully, it will continue.

The current “pandemic” resulted in a total collapse of our food chain at big grocery stores. While things have since calmed down and straightened out, many people are now aware of just how weak our food supply chain is. The obvious solution- buy small- scale, buy local. The obvious problem- buying meat the right way, (small scale and local) is expensive. Here where I am in Detroit we’ve got a great meat guy, but a couple of weeks ago I found myself at the Dekalb farmers market in Atlanta. I spent $9 for one pound of organic, grass-fed ground beef. What are your thoughts for people who are concerned about the costs of shopping ethically? On a broader scale, do you have any solutions to this? 

Price; it’s one of the biggest and most common questions.  So let’s tackle it on several fronts.

1.  Whenever someone says they can’t afford our food, I grab them by the arm and say “take me to your house.” Guess what I find there? Take-out, coffee, alcohol, sometimes tobacco, Netflix, People magazine, iPhones, flat-screen TV, tickets to Disney, lottery tickets—you get the drift. Very seldom does “I can’t afford it” carry any weight. We buy what we want, and that includes many folks below the poverty line.  

2.  Buy unprocessed. That $9 ground beef is still less than a fast food meal of equal nutritional value. Domestic culinary skills are the foundation of integrity food systems, and never have we had more techno-gadgetry to make our kitchens efficient. The average American spends fewer than 15 minutes a day in their kitchen. Nearly 80 percent of Americans have no clue at 4 p.m. what’s for dinner. In fact, the new catchphrase for millennials is “what’s dinner?” not “what’s for dinner?” So cooking from scratch is the number one way to reduce costs. Right now you can buy a whole Polyface pastured broiler, world-class, for less a pound than boneless skinless breast Tyson chicken at Wal-Mart. The most expensive heirloom Peruvian blue potato at New York City green markets is less per pound than Lay’s potato chips across the street. It’s about the processing.

3.  Buy bulk. Get a freeze and buy half a beef or 20 chickens at a time.  Buy a bushel of green beans and can them.  We buy 10 bushels of apples every fall and spend two days making applesauce; it’s cheaper than watery junk at the supermarket and is real food.  That’s not a waste of time; it’s kitchen camaraderie.  On our farm, we give big price breaks for volume purchasing because it’s simply more efficient to handle a $500 transaction than 25 $20 transactions.  This means, of course, that you must have a savings plan.  Half of all Americans can’t put their hands on $400 in cash.  That’s not an expensive food problem; that’s an endemic and profound failure to plan

Q: Here at OLM we’re a big fan of systems. We also have 10,000 square foot urban farm right in our back yard and are getting chickens very soon. Developing a farm feels a bit like an optimal opportunity to create the “perfect” system. I’m curious as to how the farm is systemized to be self-sustainable. I’m wondering if the farm is carbon neutral or carbon negative? Do you let your chickens work on your compost pile? Do you monitor cow grazing for optimum carbon sequestration? What advice do you have for the many people including us, who have just started growing our food after the current crisis?

Perhaps the starting point is to think of integration rather than segregation.  How many different species of things can you hook together for symbiosis?  So we follow the cows with the laying hens in Eggmobiles to scratch through the cow dung, spread out the manure as fertilizer, and eat the fly larvae out of the cowpats (this mimics the way birds always follow herbivores in nature).  We build compost with pigs (we call them pig aerators).  We have chickens underneath rabbit cages, generating $10,000 a year in a space the size of a 2-car garage and making the most superb compost in the world.  We see trees as carbon sinks to integrate with open land; industrial commercial chippers enable us to chip crooked, diseased, and dying trees for compost carbon.  The kitchen and gardening scraps go to the chickens.  Hoop houses for rabbits, pigs, and chickens in the winter double up as vegetable production in the spring, summer, and fall, creating pathogen dead-ends for the plants and animals growing there at different times of the year.  Integration is everything.

In half a century, we’ve moved our soil organic matter from 1 percent to 8.2 percent.  I don’t know if we’re overall carbon-neutral, but we’ve done this without buying an ounce of chemical fertilizer and using 800 percent less depreciable infrastructure per gross income dollar than the average U.S. farm.  That creates resilience.  Over the years we’ve installed 8 miles of waterlines from permaculture style high ponds that catch surface run-off and gravity feed to the farmland below.  And the rocks and gullies now grow vegetation where none grew before.  This is not pride; it’s a humble acknowledgment of a Creator’s benevolent and abundant design; it’s our responsibility to caress this magnificent womb.

Interview With Joel Salatin, Polyface Farms was originally published on Organic Lifestyle Magazine

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

Magnus Chase and the Obligatory Hogwarts AU Ch4

On ao3

And her it is, folks! I hope you enjoy this and just know that I’ve never written a sporting event before, so any comments on the game are very appreciated. Once again, thanks to @tearfulmelody for editing this.

Btw, I’m sorry in advance.

The Hufflepuff Horror Party had come soon after their Hogsmeade visit and it was great.

Of course, that was to be expected. The Hufflepuff House prided itself on,  among other things, throwing great parties, and they all put their best efforts into it. The party took place in the Hall of the Slain, the night after the Halloween Feast. The hall was decorated so it was dark, like you were standing inside the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night. In fact, fifth year students from Hufflepuff, when asked to practice spells that made plants grow faster in Herbology, had practiced on tree seeds from the Forest. This resulted in full grown trees decorating the Hall, completed with spider webs and fake bats that flied as if they were real. The traditional floating Jack ‘o Lanterns of Hogwarts weren’t missing either. They drifted across the room, casting their dim, in many cases multicolored light upon the partying students like magical disco balls.

In the end, while they might not have gone to the party as the Scooby Doo gang, they went as the Power Rangers (blame Magnus). That, of course, had brought up the discourse of who would get to be the Red Ranger. In the end, after a lot of fighting and arguments between Halfborn and Alex he preferred not to think back to, they had decided Sam should be the Red one. Halfborn was Blue, T.J was Green, Magnus was Yellow, Alex was Pink and Mallory was Black. The might have been incredibly warm in their suits, and wearing their helmets may have resulted to Halfborn stumbling over a group of second years, but hey, they had an excuse to strike ridiculous poses without anyone judging them (that had been Magnus’ main argument in favor of this choice).

They had a great time! There were party streamers and confetti all over the place, which the first and second years used to play war. At any given moment, you could be knocked off your feet from a rushing kid who was running away from an attack or on a mission to steal the enemy’s supply of party goods. Since Alex had never had the opportunity to partake in Hogwarts’ legendary Party War, the table 19 gang joined the younger students, Magnus, Sam and Alex on one side and Halfborn, Mallory and T.J on the other. They threw confetti and party streamers at each other. Halfborn head-locked Alex and rubbed confetti on his hair as he struggled to get away. T.J and Mallory had a full on “snowball fight” with balls made of party streamers and dragged Sam into it too. Magnus used his legendary attack and threw a giant pile of party supplies at the enemy side while yelling “Booyakasha!”

It had become much quieter at ten, when the first, second and third years had to leave because of curfew. The older years, however, were allowed to stay longer and Magnus, like his friends and everyone in his year, were extremely giddy about being able to stay longer. They danced and pulled ridiculous shit, like trying to form a human pyramid even though they had never done that before. They ended up a mess of spandex clad bodies on the floor, wiggling around like fish out of water and trying to get untangled.

Magnus and Alex were by the buffet table, having a competition to see who could find the nastiest Every Flavor Bean. This far in, Magnus had to eat some that tasted like egg, berries, vomit, grass (which tasted surprisingly nice) and pineapple. He was about to eat a green one Alex handed him that could be either bogeys or green apple when Alex talked.

“So what did Sam want to talk to you about the other day?”

“What do you mean?” Magnus asked as he popped the candy in his mouth. Thank goodness, it was apple.

“When Sam took you outside to talk when we were in Valhalla,” Alex said. “You didn’t look too good afterwards. Neither did she,  now that I think about it.”

Magnus averted his eyes from Alex, now finding the bowl of candy much more interesting. After his talk with Sam, he had tried to act normal. He had tried to act like everything was fine, but his mood had dampened significantly and, even though he hadn’t realized it, all his friends picked up on it. Magnus joked along with them and laughed with them, but he wasn’t there with them; his heart wasn’t in it.

“Look,” Alex said as he stepped closer to Magnus, the candy forgotten completely now. “I… don’t know what’s happening, honestly. And I’m not good at this whole ‘friends’ thing, I never got much practice. But everyone is worried about you and… I’m worried too.” He paused, taking a deep breath like he was psyching himself up to say what he wanted.  “What you said after what that boy did really helped me. I want to help you too and talking to people makes you feel better.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, pink tonight to match his costume. “I’m not that good in talking to people about what bothers me, so I probably don’t have a right to tell you this, but… talk to Sam. Even if you don’t tell her everything, getting some of it off your chest will help, whatever it is.”

Magnus looked at the bowl of multicolored beans silently. What Alex said made sense, but still… he was afraid.

When he finally talked, he didn’t look at Alex. “I thought you’d ask me to tell you what happened.”

From the sound of his voice, the notion surprised Alex. “No, you’ve know Sam much longer. If it’s something so bad to make you this miserable, I thought you’d trust her with it more. Plus, I wouldn’t know what to do if you cried. I’d just stand there awkwardly.”

Magnus sighed. All around them, the music was beating loud and fast as students danced under the shining colored lights. It was noisy and the air warm and even a bit study from the dozens of sweaty teenagers. Magnus had never thought he’d be in a place so bright and alive and feel anything but that. Until now, he had never understood how you could be around so many people and feel so utterly lonely.

“But,” Alex said, his voice cheery. Maybe a bit to cheery. Like he was hoping that his cheerfulness would rub off on Magnus and make him feel better. It didn’t quite work. “If anyone has hurt you, then I’m 100% willing to make them pay. That’s what friends do, right?”

Magnus gave a pathetic little chuckle. He wondered if Alex could bring his mum back from the dead by punching the Grim Reaper in the face.

“Yeah,” Magnus answered absentmindedly. Maybe he should talk to Sam. Maybe it would make him feel better. “Thanks for talking to me, Alex.”

“No problem,” he said cheerily and popped an Every Flavor Bean in his mouth. Unfortunately for him, it was cat piss. “Eww! Gross!”

Magnus, despite himself, laughed at his friend’s misfortune. What Magnus didn’t know was that Alex knew perfectly well what that bean tasted like before putting it in his mouth ad it was hardly an accident.

“Come on!” he said after most of the cat piss taste left his tongue and Magnus had had a good laugh at his expense. “Let’s go dance with the others!”

“Nah, I think I’m good over here,” Magnus said. “I need to do some thinking.”

“Nuh uh. No way. I’m not letting you here on your own.” As Alex said that, he grabbed Magnus by the wrist and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor. “Plus, I asked them to play that song we talked about in class about now.”

“What song?” Magnus asked, right as the band started playing Macarena.  He looked Alex dead in the eye. “Seriously?”

She beamed at him. “Yep! Now show me how you dance this again!”

~~~~~~

Magnus had meant to talk to Sam after the party. He did, he really did, but… some things are easier said than done. In the week that followed Halloween, he had caught himself about to speak to her at least a dozen times, but every time something always happened and he didn’t get the chance to talk. Every time he told himself it didn’t matter because he could just talk to her next time. But when the next time came, he still chickened out of it.

Magnus was in the library, doing his homework. T.J was tutoring some younger students for extra credit (not that he really needed it) and he wasn’t quite sure where Halfborn was. He was supposed to run some errands for Professor Jack, if Magnus remembered correctly but he wasn’t sure. He was sitting by the large window that overlooked the Quidditch field. Mallory, Sam and Alex were practicing along with the rest of the Slytherin team.

Sam was the team’s Seeker from this year on since the previous one had graduated. It had been the position she wanted since the beginning, but up until now she had been a Chaser. She was great in the field, but then again Sam was born to fly. Learning how to fly on a broomstick had been what she was most excited about in their first year, and she was amazing at it.

Mallory was a Beater, because of course she’d choose the position when you had to beat up people. She was deadly in a game and might have broken her fair share of bone by accident while playing (both her own and other’s). Alex was a Chaser and with their first match of the year this Saturday, she could hardly stay still.

He turned back to the Potions essay in front of him and struggled to get the words to come out. He knew he should have started earlier, but with everything that was happening he couldn’t focus on it for long. That resulted with him having to turn in the essay in two days and being hardly half way through the first paragraph.

He sighed again, using an erasing spell to erase the line he had just written. Ugh, why couldn’t he write it? It was just a simple essay! And it wasn’t even on something difficult, he knew this stuff, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to write it.

Or, well, he was concentrated on something, just not what he was supposed to. Struggling to talk to Sam about his mother meant that the topic was always front and center in his brain instead of at the very back, along with all the other horrible things he would have preferred never happened. That, in turn, meant that he had had a horrible mood for days.

Magnus, well, Magnus was a bottler, if that hadn’t been clear enough already. He didn’t talk about what bothered him, at least not on his own accord. If something troubled him, he never brought it up, preferring to keep it in instead of annoying people with his problems. If he did talk to someone, it was after the other person initiated it and asked him what was wrong. And even then he wouldn’t speak unless the bottle was absolutely filled to the brim and one more drop would make it explode.

But keeping all that in, when the bottle was full and heavy with all the small or big things that bothered him, made him feel horrible. And Magnus didn’t like feeling like that, which in turn made him feel even worse and drop by drop the bottle kept filling.

He groaned again, much too loud for someone in a library, and flopped down on the table, letting his head rest on the hard wood. This shouldn’t be so difficult and he shouldn’t get so frustrated or sad over it but he was and that made it even worse.

The blonde was contemplating asking T.J. to write it for him when he heard the scraping sound of someone pulling back a chair. He looked up to see Professor Hearthstone sitting opposite him.

The Ancient Runes teacher was tall and thin, he reminded Magnus a bit of Jack the Pumpkin King from the Nightmare Before Christmas with his long arms and legs. His hair, complexion and even eyes were so white that Magnus wondered whether or not they would be able to find him in snow. There was a slightly pointy tip to his ears and Magnus knew that he had elf blood in his family, however distant it might be.

“Professor Hearthstone?” Magnus asked, confused as to why the Ravenclaw Head of House would be here. “Is there something I can help you with?”

That’s actually what I wanted to ask you, the Professor signed.

Professor Hearthstone was deaf and talked in BSL and Halfborn had taught Magnus after he asked him because it seemed interesting. A few parents had complained about his hiring in Hogwarts, saying that the fact he couldn’t speak would make lessons more difficult for students. A lot also had problems with his elf descendancy and didn’t want their children to be taught by him. As T.J. had explained to them, the matter was resolved when Professor Hearthstone sent every single parent who complained about him a letter containing his family tree to show them how far back his elf ancestor was. In the letter he also told the parents that he used a spell to voice his thoughts for lessons, so if they wanted to complain they should first inform themselves, and that, at the end of the day, their children didn’t have to take his lesson if they didn’t want to.

I understand you are not necessarily my student, the Professor continued, however it has come to my attention that something is troubling you and I wanted to help.

“H-how did you realize?” Magnus asked, too tired to even try and lie about it.

The teacher raised an eyebrow. I talk frequently with Blitzen, and many of your friends are students of mine. They’re all worried about you.

Dread filled up Magnus’s heart. He didn’t want to worry his friends,  that was why he didn’t let them know what was wrong with him. But doing that changed nothing, apparently, because his friends still worried, and felt powerless to help their friend when they didn’t even know what to help him with.

“I-I don’t really want to talk about it,” Magnus muttered, training his eyes on his unfinished essay.

Professor Hearthstone reached out and raised his face so Magnus would look at him. I understand, he signed, but as a teacher, I don’t enjoy seeing my students in pain. I understand you might not want to talk about some things, and you might not feel comfortable talking about them to everyone. But I know firsthand how much it can hurt everyone around you and most importantly you to keep them in.

Professor Hearthstone sat up straighter. I am not here to make you talk to me. I understand you might not want to. But letting it out of you will help. If you don’t want to talk to a teacher or a friend, you can write about it.

“Like a dairy?”

I suppose. What I wanted to say is that you should talk about it if you want to. I can guarantee to you that if you talk to a teacher, they won’t tell what you told them to anyone.

Professor Hearthstone stood up, tall and slightly imposing despite being so thin. However, I cannot make you talk if you don’t want to. In the end, it’s your choice.

The Ancient Runes teacher walked out of the library, leaving Magnus behind, sitting on his own by the large window that overlooked the Quidditch field and feeling lost.

~~~~~~~

The sky was bright and the atmosphere was buzzing as the stands around the Quidditch filled were alive with the Hogwarts students, young and old, excited for another match of the wizarding world’s most famous sport.

If one where to look at the stand from high up, they would see a sea of red and green. Students of all ages were wearing their house scarves proudly to cheer on their teams. Some were waving banners or flags and there was even a student that had charmed a stuffed lion to roar. The air was buzzing with the cacophony of the students shouts and the game hadn’t even began yet. Magnus knew from experience it would get much worse as the game progressed.

T.J. and Magnus were in the stands, excited to watch their friends duke it out in the field. Supporting both teams, they were among the few, if not the only, students dressed in both House’s colors. T.J had Halfborn’s scarf hanging around his neck and Sam’s scarf in hand, prepared to start waving it around when the game started. He had a large hat that had ‘Slytherin’ spelled out on it in silver, glittering paint and a Gryffindor flag in the other hand. Magnus, in the meanwhile, was wearing Alex’s scarf around his neck and, like T.J, held Mallory’s scarf in one hand and a Gryffindor flag in the other, with his blonde hair covered by a large Gryffindor hat.

“Slytherin! Gryffindor! Slytherin! Gryffindor!” T.J. practically chanted, turning from side to side and waving his arms around.

“T.J., the match hasn’t even started yet,” Magnus said, keeping a straight face with great difficulty. T.J. always got over excited about Quidditch matches.

“I’m practicing,” the dark skinned boy said and went back to waving his arms.

Magnus smiled. T.J. was rightfully excited. Quidditch matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin always got the school buzzing with excitement. The two Houses, while not out for blood, were definitely the most competitive among the four. Their matches were always intense and managed to get everyone’s adrenaline pumping, even if they didn’t know a lot about the sport.

It wasn’t long before the commenter started talking, announcing the teams’ entrance.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and all you lovely folks in the stands, it’s time for the much awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin!”

The stands roared with excitement. Magnus could swear the whole pitch was shaking from the power of their voices, and he might have cared about them collapsing and falling down if he wasn’t screaming alongside the other students.

The Gryffindor team run in the field, brooms in hand, as the announcer introduced them and gave fun facts about them.

“And Halfborn Gunderson walks in, real name a total mystery. But don’t be fooled by his size, because this giant of a man will beat you in grades like he beats you on the field. Will he be able to score points for his team?”

Claps, whistles and cheers rocked the stands as the Gryffindor students and supporters went wild. Their whole team was lined up in the filled, a row of blazing red and gold flowers among the green grass.

“And now, on the other side of the field, please give a warm welcome to Slytherin!”

The announcer did the same thing as before as the Slytherin players walked in, walking proudly in their dark green robes.

“Mallory Keen walks into the field. Petite as she might me, don’t underestimate this fiery redhead unless you want a concussion. Though I wouldn’t mind getting one from a beauty like this.”

Mallory stood next to her teammates with the confidence of a winner, her wild mane of hair pulled back in a puffy ponytail. She didn’t seem to have heard the announcer’s flirting, and if she did, she didn’t seem to care.

“And here we have Alex Fierro! She/her today, folks, and this young girl seems ready as hell to win her team points!”

Alex was holding her broom on her shoulders, like one might hold a stick to carry buckets of water. She beamed up at the stands and the crowd went wild.

“And now, the Slytherin Seeker, the lady of the skies herself, Samirah al-Abbas!” Sam ran onto the field, green hijab fluttering as she run. She had earned herself a reputation in Hogwarts as an amazing Seeker.  

Hunding went over something with the teams, probably asking them for a fair game, before releasing the balls. The players shot up after them, fast and fierce. They flew with such speed and precision Magnus got equally scared and thrilled watching them. They flew left and right, high and low, so fast Magnus could barely keep track of them.

Magnus wasn’t the best person to describe a Quidditch match to you, mostly because he only knew the basics of the game, like how many points a goal was worth and that the game ended when the snitch was caught. His limited knowledge, however, didn’t stop him from realizing the game was bloody intense. It was been twenty minutes into the match and no one had score yet. The players flew up and down, throwing balls and catching them, zipping past the stands so fast Magnus’ hat was almost blown off.

Sam and the Gryffindor Seeker were hovering above the rest of the players. Their eyes were scanning the field, patiently waiting for the appearance of the Snitch. At one point, Sam suddenly dipped down, chasing after a golden blur. The other Seeker soon followed her, desperately trying to catch up. In his hurry, he crashed into Sam and they both lost their chance at the Snitch.

Another twenty minutes passed and now the two teams had each scored a goal. Alex and Halfborn were in a heated battle over one of the quaffle and neither of them was giving up anytime soon. Mallory and the other Beater flew around and attacked the enemy players. Once, Mallory smacked a bludger so close to a Gryffindor player it only missed her by a hair. The Gryffindor girl, surprised by the ball that had just zipped past her, lost her balance, and fell off her broom. Luckily, the pitch was charmed so if one of the students fell, it was like falling on a trampoline instead of on hard ground.

Magnus’ voice was going hoarse by the time Alex scored her second goal. The crowd’s excitement was contagious and Magnus’s cheeks were flushed red from all the yelling and cheering. He was about to turn to T.J to tell him something when the two Seekers suddenly dipped down. They flew towards the ground, going faster and faster, chasing the tiny golden ball that zipped past the other players.

The whole student body watched with bated breath as the two Seekers were neck to neck. They held onto their brooms with one hand, the other hand stretched forward to catch the Snitch. Down and down they went and Magnus couldn’t take his eyes of them.

Then, a breath away from the ground, they pulled up. Magnus wasn’t sure whether his heart had stopped beating or whether it was beating too fast. He would never understand how Sam could pull stunts like that without feeling scared.

The two teams had stopped playing, waiting to see who caught the Snicth like the other students. The silence that descended on the field was just as deafening as the cheering had been before.

Then Sam raised her right hand up high to show a pair of gold wings jutting out of her closed fist and fluttering wildly.

The stands erupted with cheers. The Slytherin supporters’ yells were loud and happy, and while you couldn’t make out what each student was saying, you could still understand how ecstatic they all were to have won the match. Even Gryffindor was cheering, simply happy to have seen such an intense match.  

“And Slytherin wins, folks! What an amazing match!”

“We won! We won!” T.J cheered, ignoring the fact that, since they were cheering for both teams, they would have won either way. Still, Magnus didn’t have the mind to tell him that because he was too busy cheering along with everyone else. Watching his friends play Quidditch gave him this adrenaline-filled feeling like his whole body was buzzing with energy begging to be released. If this is what it felt like for Sam to be flying out there, no wonder she loved it so much.

The stands emptied slowly as the teams went to their respective changing rooms and the students started leaving for dinner. Magnus was still high from the match. He remembered when he first came to Hogwarts, how excited he had been over the peculiar sport. He wrote to his mum after every single match and even though what he wrote must have made no sense whatsoever, she always seemed so happy to hear his rapid, excited rambling.

His mind wondering off to his mum brought Magnus back to the scary reality of what he had promised himself to do after the match.

Talk. He was going to talk to Sam.

A part of him told him not to. A part of him found excuses, how she must be tired, how he shouldn’t bring her down with his troubles after she just won a match. You can just tell her some other time, part of him said.

But Manus knew that if he listened to that part of him then he’d never speak to Sam. And he wasn’t sure how much more the bottle could hold before it burst.

One by one, the Slytherin team members left the locker rooms, excited for dinner after such a great match. Mallory, Halfborn, Alex and T.J were talking among themselves and even though Magnus was standing next to them he wasn’t paying any attention to what they were saying. The last Slytherin player left too, but Sam was still nowhere to be found.

“Hey, um, where is Sam?” Magnus asked. He really hoped he didn’t look like he felt. Like a nervous wreck.

“She’s still inside,” Mallory said, gesturing at the locker rooms with her thumb. “It’s her turn to tidy up the place today. We told her she didn’t have to do it since she won us the match, but you know what Sam is like.” She shrugged and went back to the conversation she was having with Halfborn.

“Oh, um, I’ll go check on her,” Magnus said as he slipped away from the group.

Inside, the locker room was, well, like any other locker room. There were white tiles everywhere and wooded benches as well as the ever present musky/sweaty smell that came with a room sweaty teenagers change clothes in. It was eerie to be in here without any of the other players (Magnus had come here with Sam once to cheer her on before a big game), especially when he only knew some of them from the locker room.

Magnus moved through the little rooms, like the boy’s and girl’s changing areas, the showers and this little lounge thing for before games, but Sam wasn’t there. Things were clean and tidy so she must have already finished with this.

He moved deeper inside the locker room. His heartbeat was getting faster and faster and his flight instinct was going crazy. Dread settled in his throat like heavy, gooey slime and it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to swallow it down.

He reached an open door with a sign on it that read “Sports equipment”. He heard moving around and rattling from inside and, with the eagerness of a man heading to his execution, stepped inside.

Sam was on top of a stool, putting away some spare Quidditch things Magnus didn’t know the name of. Her back was to him and she hadn’t noticed him yet. If his flight instinct was going crazy before, now it had gone completely haywire. He bit his lip anxiously. He felt so frightened, like it was his first day of school again and he both wanted and was afraid of going. He was just a scared little child that wanted his mummy, even if he knew she couldn’t be here to tell him everything was fine.

Yet, scared or not, Magnus took a step closer and made himself known.

“Um, Sam?”

She turned around to look at him. He green hijab, now pulling around her neck, rustled as she moved. “Oh, Magnus. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” Deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”

Maybe it was the tone in his voice, maybe it was that he held himself like a frightened rabbit, maybe it was that nothing good ever came out of “I need to talk to you”. Whatever the reason, Sam’s carefree expression disappeared completely.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as she moved closer to him. Her brows were furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them like every time she was worried about something.

“It’s- “his voice broke, “it’s about my mum.”

The wrinkle became even deeper. Sam’s arms were held in front of her body, like she wanted to reach out to Magnus but she was afraid he’d crack if she touched him. He felt like he would.

“What you said. B-back at Valhalla. She’s not sick.” Another deep breath. And another. They came out shaky, shivering, like leaves in the wind.

“She’s dead.”

Sam didn’t talk. She didn’t gasp or anything like that. She stayed quiet, so quiet it was like Magnus was on his own. Even if she wasn’t standing next to him, he wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were glued to the ground, to a dirty spot in the floor that was getting blurrier every second.

When Sam finally talked, it was quiet and breathless, as though she couldn’t even begin to phantom what she was hearing. “When?”

“T-this summer,” Magnus continued. The cork was off the bottle and he couldn’t put it back even if he wanted to. “We- we were going to go camping the next day. I had gone to bed early so I wouldn’t be tired and- and- When I woke up, when mum woke me up, there-there was smoke. Smoke and-and heat and” a sob tore its way out of his throat, “Mum- she told me to get up and-and we ran to the door but then part of the ceiling collapsed.”

Magnus hadn’t realized it, too deep in his memories, but Sam had led him to the stool she had been using and sat him down. She rubbed his back but all it did was remind Magnus of his mum doing the same when he cried and his sobs came harder.

“We ran for the fire escape. We-we were almost there when-“ Magnus felt like he was going to throw up. “The ceiling collapse again. On-on mum.”

A small gasp came from Sam but Magnus kept going.

It was like he was there again. Their small apartment, the place where Magnus had made so many happy memories, turned into a fiery inferno. Smoke and heat and flames everywhere and Magnus was scared, so scared. His tears dried on his cheeks from the heat and his mum held his hand, telling him it was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. They would get out of there.

They didn’t. He did.

“S-she was trapped and-and I tried to get her out but-“ Another sob tore his body in half. “I wasn’t s-strong enough. She-she told me to run. She t-told me she’d be right b-behind me. I-I grabbed my b-backpack a-and jumped out the window. I la-landed in the ga-garbage bin and I-I looked up e-expecting her to come- but-“

It hurts. Stop. It hurts.

“The-the window ex-exploded.”

Please stop. Stop, please. It hurts.

“She didn’t come out.”

Sam was holding him close, hugging him. Her body shook with silent sobs and Magnus felt her tears soak the back of his shirt. They stayed like that, hugging, crying rivers, oceans. Sam didn’t speak. No ‘I’m sorry’, no nothing. Sam knew what it was like to lose your mother. She knew that ‘I’m sorry’s felt like empty words.

She knew there was nothing she could do right now except holding Magnus as he cried his heart out.

Magnus wasn’t sure how long he was crying. It could have been a few minutes or it could have been days and he wouldn’t have noticed the difference. He cried and cried, leaving wet trails down his cheeks, and he didn’t even know he had this many tears in him.

Magnus was crying, still crying, when his friends appeared on the door. Whatever they were going to say –about where Magnus and Sam were this whole time, about missing dinner if they didn’t hurry up- died in their throats when they saw their two friends close together, crying like it was the end of the world.

Alex wasn’t hesitant to touch Magnus, not like Sam had been. Then again, he was completely wrecked now. There was nothing for her to break.

First it was Alex, then T.J, Mallory and Halfborn. They rushed forward, not a word spoken, and hugged Magnus and Sam. They didn’t know what was happening, and they didn’t really need too. What they knew was that their friend was a crying mess and maybe, just maybe they could put all the broken pieces of him back together if they hugged him hard enough.

Magnus thought of what people always said when you couldn’t move on from a loved one’s death. How they wouldn’t want you trapped in the past, how they would want you to move on. He wondered if his mother was somewhere out there, anywhere, watching Magnus happily, glad he made the first step.

He liked the idea she was.

Magnus stayed there, crying in the smelly Quidditch storage room as his friends and his mother’s memory held him close.