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cloudwhisper23 · 1 month

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Another prompt underway! This is yet again for @grow-bettah's Grumbo Month event! I hope y'all enjoy!

Day 16: Vampire

Mumbo didn’t like to keep secrets from his friends. Honest! He didn’t like it one bit, not when it meant he kept having to make excuses for why he couldn’t join Grian’s silly fish diet, or Scar’s completely vegetarian diet. His friends gave him odd looks when he declined, and Mumbo knew he could only pretend nothing was wrong for so long.

Being cursed to be a vampire wasn’t very great on a multiplayer server, regardless of how supportive your friends would pretend to be. Their reaction went deep enough that Mumbo could sense it now.

Still, Mumbo supposed he couldn’t complain too much. Iskall had figured it out quite quickly and immediately set about figuring out how to help him sort out his difficulties, encouraging an End bust expedition so no one would question the newfound strength of Mumbo’s wings amongst other treatments to prevent the sun from actually doing any damage.

The End bust certainly helped. Iskall was still busy with other projects, but the fact that he’d been willing to help Mumbo out with this was much appreciated, as was his ability to keep the matter a secret. Mumbo was also in possession of the item frame permit, something that justified the number of cows he’d been killing.

The blood wasn’t very fresh, but again, it was better than starving. The texture of the raw beef in his mouth wasn’t ideal either, but Ren had managed to do it for years by this point, so Mumbo really couldn’t complain. Or well, he could, but he wasn’t going to complain verbally. Certainly not around the other members of Magic Mountain.

Good days ended with blisters and bloody fingertips as Mumbo built up more of the mountain near his base. Bad days were spent curled up in his death chamber having delirious conversations with his llama.

Mumbo quickly found himself getting sick of the constant fluctuation between good and bad days and decided it was time to go out and converse with the other hermits again. Socializing was a good thing, he told himself, clasping the modified elytra onto his shoulders.

Maybe it was time to pay Grian a visit? If he was home, that was. Last Mumbo heard, he’d been dragged away from the dock to help with permit problems.

It would be good to pay Grian a visit, Mumbo decided. If only to distract him from his difficulties at the permit office. With a sigh, Mumbo stretched his wings before jumping from the hill toward Grian’s base. Please be home.

Grian was in fact home when Mumbo landed on the stained surface of the dock. His wings were pulled tight to his body, hardly moving as he went through barrel after barrel in search of something. Curious, Mumbo stood still, observing the increasingly panicked sounds in Grian’s breathing. What had his friend lost?

“You alright there, mate?” Mumbo finally said.

Grian’s wings didn’t so much as bristle, but Mumbo still smelled the frightened scent from Grian’s body. “Uh, yeah. Hey, Mumbo.”

“What are you looking for?” Mumbo asked, relieved that the fear seemed to vanish as soon as Grian registered who was there.

“Oh, nothing important. Just something for a project.” Grian’s wings gave nothing away, once again.

That struck Mumbo as odd, considering how he could tell Grian was still obviously in distress about whatever was missing. “Right…” Perhaps Mumbo wasn’t the only one hiding something?

“So, what brings you over here? Not planning on fishing, I assume.” Grian settled down on one of the piles of barrels.

“Just a social call,” Mumbo answered. “Your base is looking fantastic, by the way. I love the… bird house?”

Grian’s mouth twitched. “Don’t go there.”

“Right.” Mumbo cleared his throat. “So uh. How have you been?”

“Great. Well, as good as I can be with this stupid fishing curse.” Grian gestured vaguely. “It’s been great, figuring out the restrictions and the grudge the ocean holds.”

“Pardon, fishing curse?”

Grian sighed. “I haven’t been doing this as a bit, Mumbo. I have to keep fishing. I have to eat exclusively fish. And if I go into water…” He jumped down, pulled his boots off his feet and sat down on the dock, dipping his feet into the water. “Well, this happens.”

Mumbo’s eyes widened as webs grew between Grian’s toes and scales shimmered on his ankles. “Yeah, that’s… Wow…”

“Mhm.” Grian sounded less than pleased. “It’s manageable, I guess. But still, it’s pretty annoying.”

Mumbo nodded silently. Should he tell Grian about his own curse? It wasn’t the same sort of burden, but maybe there would be some kind of solidarity in knowing that he wasn’t alone in his suffering. Maybe? Or would Grian take it as one-upping him?

Mumbo stood quietly as Grian dried himself off. The faintest frown flickered across Grian’s face, but it was gone before Mumbo came out of his thoughts.

“Well, if that’s all…” Grian trailed off, looking at Mumbo again before going back to his barrel search.

“I, erm.” Mumbo coughed. “It’s unfortunate that the ocean cursed you.”

“Yeah.”

“If, um. If it helps, you’re not the only one.”

Grian paused. “Are you implying that Gem has a curse too? Because honestly, I think she’s more blessed by the ocean than cursed by it.”

“Well, a blessing and a curse are practically the same thing depending on how you look at it. But,” Mumbo added hastily at Grian’s scowl, “that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“What were you talking about then?” Grian resumed opening barrels.

“The… the moon cursed me.”

Mumbo didn’t know what he was expecting. But he finally got a wing twitch out of Grian, even if it was only one on the side of his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m… a vampire. Yep, I’m a vampire this season.” Mumbo nodded, chewing his lip.

“You-“ Grian turned around. “You have to be joking. I thought you were just a bat hybrid this whole time!”

“I was.” Mumbo scratched his neck anxiously. Claws dug into his skin, and he stopped. “Look, mate. It’s like your whole… fish thing. Sort of. Mine just built on what was already there while yours added something completely new.”

“This is why you refuse to eat my catches,” Grian said, half to himself. “So you have to drink blood? Wait, you’re in the sun. How does that-“

“Iskall’s been helping me out some.” Mumbo unclipped his elytra and stretched his wings, the aches well worth the expression on Grian’s face. “We went End busting so no one would question my ability to fly.”

“Yeah, that would… and the sun too, I’m assuming?” Grian was still staring, like he was memorizing every detail of Mumbo’s wings.

“Yep. And as for the blood, I do have to drink it, but it doesn’t have to be hermit blood.” Mumbo nodded to himself with that one.

“So this whole time…” Grian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Mumbo, is that why you’ve looked so sickly?”

“Pardon?” Mumbo blinked. He wasn’t anticipating this reaction, although it wasn’t an unwelcome one. Grian wasn’t afraid in the slightest, instead concerned about his wellbeing.

“Mumbo K. Jumbo,” Grian said sternly. “Have you been drinking stale blood?”

“Erm… maybe?”

Grian’s wings twitched. “Why?”

“Because it’s what I have available? I don’t have my cow farm set up yet, so I just-“

“Cow’s blood.” Grian shook his head again. “Mumbo. Did the thought never cross your mind to ask me for help?”

“It did,” Mumbo replied honestly. “But you seemed so busy, and well-“

“I’m never too busy for you.”

Mumbo’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t find any words to say. Grian smiled sadly. “Mumbo, if you need blood, ever, you can ask me for some. I don’t mind.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“You could.” Grian crossed his arms. “Remember when you ate my soul to become more human again?”

“That’s different-“

“That’s worse! And I was only opposed to it because I had levels! You aren’t going to drink me dry. I know you.” Grian’s mouth set in a determined line. “Actually, you probably need some right now, don’t you? You’re so pale you’re nearly translucent, Mumbo.”

Mumbo could feel his fangs pressing into his lower lip, but he still protested. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, Grian-“

“You need to drink blood that’s actually good for you.” Grian persisted.

“Fine. Just this once.”

“I won’t hold you to that,” Grian answered softly, stepping forward to offer his wrist to Mumbo.

Mumbo frowned, but he said nothing more before sinking his teeth into Grian’s arm.

It was far sweeter than it should have been.

And Mumbo hated that he didn’t regret it.

#grumbo month #grumbo #grian #mumbo jumbo #none of the others are actually present so I'm not tagging #hermitshipping #cloud writes

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deer-with-a-stick · 1 year

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Wildest shit happens in D&D man.

Alright, story time.

There was a D&D night for fun and to introduce newbies to the game. I ended up with a slightly more experienced group but they took pre-made auto-generated character sheets.

We ended up with Normal Human Artificer whose part of a guild (I ended up tying the backstory to the illegal Artificer Cult), a Centaur Hermit who is afraid of civilization, an Orc Fighter who hates civilization, and a Half-Orc Barbarian raised by wolves and who has an alcohol addiction.

The oneshot happens in Waterdeep, the fucking New York City of the Forgotten Realms. They go to a bakery to try and find clues as to where this important guy (the Beggar King) is. First thing that happens is the Barbarian gets up onto two feet and fucking spartan-kicks the door open. They kill one ghoul (Barbarian gets half their face bitten off, retaliates with a Nat 20 bite, and rips the ghoul’s throat out). Then the centaur picks up the second and ends up fucking adopting it and getting it addicted to Raspberry Danishes instead of cow blood and humanoid flesh.

Then they get ambushed by the BBEG’s men. Ghoul flies at the leader, and with another Nat 20 because my metal dice loves combat, rips the guy’s head off. Fighter splits another guard in half with ANOTHER Nat 20 (the dice aren’t weighed, we just ended up being D&D Game Georg. Our Barbarian actually couldn’t stop rolling twos earlier and during the ghoul combat, the ghoul that got adopted ended up rolling three Nat 1s in a row). The centaur tries to pick up a third guy only to get shield bashed in the head. Third guy gets his neck snapped because the Neutral Evil Orc Fighter jumped on his neck. The party proceeds to traumatize the last guard there for several rounds by shooting arrows at him (and missing) as well as hurling a fucking Great-axe at him (courtesy of the Barbarian, who also missed). He tries to climb over the roof, fails Acrobatics, falls to the ground where the Fighter proceeds to shield bash HIM, shattering the guy’s jaw, and the Barbarian ground-pounds his diaphragm, killing the poor guy. Throughout this whole thing, the Artificer is just standing there with his bow and five Cherry Danishes in his hands (since he wants to try and train the ghoul to attack people).

They make their way to the BBEG’s ship, and somehow, despite the highest Charisma score there being fucking TWELVE, convince the guy guarding the gangplank that the party + ghoul are the Orc’s pets. Artificer finds who fucking pistols and the Centaur somehow manages to climb up to the crow’s nest using the fucking ROPE RIGGING. I made the mistake of saying that there was a barrel of rum, and the Barbarian strapped the >400 pound barrel to their back. Somehow, they make their way to the brig and talk their way past the guards (genuinely don’t know how they managed to pass so many Charisma checks). They convince the guards to close the door because “uh... the rum is for interrogation techniques? it might get loud.” Then the artificer gets like an 18 for performance and just starts screaming from behind the door and the guards run away (despite the Barbarian getting a Nat 1 Stealth to try and pour the rum out of the barrel). They fucking shove the prisoner, the Beggar King they’re supposed to rescue, into the fucking barrel Bilbo Baggins style, and with more charisma checks (Nat 1 from the Orc to convince the gangplank guard that the barrel was another pet but a 19 from the Artificer claiming orders from the Captain to transport materials) they fucking left with the Beggar King passed out in a fucking barrel.

Like, they skipped the boss fight, they skipped every possible fight in the ship, half fought the first one because a ghoul got fucking ADOPTED and I-

This was so fucking fun. Play D&D yall. You might meet some of the greatest people in the world and form the greatest memories in your life.

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whywishesarehorses · 2 years

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Mustang Mare for Sale

Prairie🌵 6 year old 13.3/14hh Cedar Mountain HMA buckskin pinto Mustang mare.

I originally got Prairie as a yearling for a 60 day challenge in Utah in 2017. She won everything- showmanship, trail, freestyle, overall grand champion. I brought her home and started her as a 3yo and took her to college where she trained in the college equine classes, did shows and cow work.

She did really well in her cow cutting classes and showed talent and drive for cow work. I showed her all around last year including speed events (barrels) and ran so well for me that even the woman working the gate said that’s what she should do. I started schooling english and jumping at home (also showed her) and she seemed to also enjoy that and would take me to the fences effortlessly. She could do reining, ranch work, trail, really an all around type of mare. She has slow and extended gaits and a nice spin. If someone wanted a Liberty horse as well, with some time she would also be great for that as well. I almost showed her as a yearling at Liberty and I had started teaching her to join up with my riding horse and do some circles and sidepassing liberty. She’s had lots of obstacle training as well I couldn’t begin to list. Some show experience and she’s super smooth and comfortable to ride. I can ride one or two handed and works well off seat and leg cues. Not a lazy horse she will work her tail off whether in the mountains or arena.

Tricks: sidepass away/toward you, pick you up off fence ect, backs up by the tail, bows, lays down, sits.

Better suited for someone with advanced horsemanship and she will blossom ✨

(Pulled from FB, Adopt a Living Legend, Stacked Heart Ranch)

#blm mustang #mustang horse #horse #horse for sale #equestrian #horseblr

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haisley · 6 days

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hi hasley, i saw your tags under a bixie post, and i tried to google to understand but i can't really see the difference of the two bridles? do you mind make a small explanation as if i was 12 years old?

Sure no prob,

So English and western are two different horse-back riding disciplines or styles of riding horses. English is a broad discipline that covers dressage and hunter/jumper riding (think the fancy routines and show jumping in the Olympics) and western is a broad discipline that covers reining, barrel racing, and cow roping (think everything a Wild West cowboy would do)

The equipment or tack that a horse wears for each of these disciplines is designed specifically for that discipline. All tack will achieve the same basic function but equestrians are particular about our fashion choices for our horses.

So in a lot less words the difference between an English bridle and a western headstall is the design and discipline they are intended for. Here’s some pictures of each that have the parts labeled.

^this is an English bridle

^And this is a western headstall

Now both of these pieces of tack are considered bridles. But western people and English people REALLY like to use different names for the same things. Which also is why in these pictures that I took from google the “head piece” in the English example is labeled as the “crown piece” in the western example.

A good thing to note though, is that the BIGGEST difference between these two pieces of tack are 1) the names used to describe them and 2) whether or not the bridle has a nose band (which is also sometimes called a cavasin)

An easy rule of thumb for distinguishing a western vs English bridle is weather or not there is a nose band. English bridles will have a nose band 99.99999% of the time and western head stalls will NOT have a nose band 99.999999% of the time.

Hope that helps!

#equestrian #this is very general but I think it covers enough of the basics #mlp related #I hope I did the alt text well

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thetoxicgamer · 10 months

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The Sims 4 Horse Ranch confirms release date, and I’m shouting yee-haw

Now that The Sims 4's next expansion pack has been made public, I'm eager to explore the new paths it will take me. Although EA won't be using horses in The Sims for the first time, Horse Ranch appears to be the best one yet. The Sims 4 is delivering a variety of new western-themed features with the next expansion, from equestrian sports to entirely new farm animals. Horse Ranch is jam-packed with often asked-for content. The first and most obvious addition coming with Horse Ranch is, well… horses. Not only are we getting horses though, but we are getting a variety of equestrian events like dressage and jumping for our Sims to partake in. Considering the strong cowboy vibes shown in the trailer, rodeos are also likely to come with Horse Ranch. Aside from riding-related sports, Sims will be able to breed and care for their horses, raise their foals, and watch the magical beasts interact with other animals. You read that right, other animals are also coming with the expansion. Goats and sheep are making their way to your Sims’ farms, adding more life to the already existing animals from the Cottage Living pack. Horses, goats, and sheep have all been highly requested by Simmers since the aforementioned expansion’s release, especially due to other animals like chickens and cows having been included. Horse Ranch’s reveal trailer showed the new animals off in every mood, from adorably angry baby sheep stomping their hooves to wild horses rejecting Sims’ training efforts. It feels like a cowboy-inspired Wild West pack through and through, as all the Sims shown in the teaser are wearing the iconic western hats and boots. I also spotted Sims crushing berries for wine with their feet in giant barrels, which means that more organic activities may be coming to accompany knitting and painting. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaUZ5ph7qD4 You can grab The Sims 4 Horse Ranch on Thursday, July 20 for $39.99 / £34.99 here on EA’s website.. If you purchase the expansion pack early, you will receive a few in-game bonus items. The ’63 Twilight Notes Resonator Guitar, Softly Spoke n’ Petals, and Rocking Star furniture pieces are included in the Rockin’ Rancher digital pre-order bonus bundle. The baby goats are seriously the cutest things I have ever seen. I’m not sure I can wait a whole month to let my inner horse girl out if I’m completely honest. I suppose if I have had to wait years already since playing with horses in The Sims 3, I can survive a little longer. We can only hope for cars and fairies now, EA may just listen after giving us horses. If you too are a certified Sims stan, then you should have a look through some of our other favorite life games to get your love for digital dollhouses thriving. You can also browse through a few of the best sandbox games if you want to get your creativity flowing. For more Sims-specific content, be sure to check out the greatest Sims 4 mods to spice up your gameplay for free. Read the full article

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sp00kworm · 3 years

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Iron Lake

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Pairing: Qene (Male God [Bird Creature]) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Wound Descriptions, Blood

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Ore was rich in the valleys once. The entire hillside was covered in small mine shafts for digging up iron ore for smelting in the iron works, and that lead to several settlement villages between the city and the ocean. Your family had lived on the final reaches of the valley, towards the sea, for many generations, until the collapse. The men worked as miners, and the women worked the farms. Your own family, however, had moved on long ago. When the iron ore ran dry, and the mine shafts began to collapse, the village was left to the farmers and creatures which plagued the woods and hills. You looked at your sturdy cottage and the barns surrounding it as you sat on top of the newly built dry-stone wall you had just finished. It had collapsed with a recent bull charge and you’d spent a long time building it back up higher so he couldn’t get at your cows. A few heifers were too young and now steered clear of the wall, wandering along the other side of the field. You didn’t blame them. The bull was a neighbour’s, and rarely did he have the beast under control. Smoking a pipe called you, but it was a habit that was best left alone living so rural. You patted your nearest cow and fed her a handful of weeds before taking your bucket and heading to your chickens, which were clucking around the few ewes you had.

The chickens ran on small legs as you shook the feed bucket, and you grinned as you leaned over to toss them some food. The ewes were slower to move and trotted over as you headed to their small food trough and hay basket. You shovelled more hay in from under the shelter and locked the gate before filling their feed and water troughs. The chickens were back following you around as you tapped their own feed buckets again and herded them back into their coop. They happily ignored you closing the caging in favour of the food you had put in their own trough. Whistling, you took all the buckets and closed the gates to the fields, heading back towards the small storage and utility shed to put everything away. The wind rushed over the long grass at the top of the hill and you paused to look up as the sky rumbled with the beginnings of rain. Sure enough, as you looked to the herd, they were heading back to the shelter. There was rain on the way. You tutted and made sure to put everything away before rushing to cover the chickens and make sure the sheep had their own shelter with their raised bedded platform.

As you finished checking on the cows, the heavens opened, and you rushed for your small porch, sprinting under the cover as the rain came lashing down, soaking your shirt and bottoms through. The cotton clung to you as you shuddered by the door, watching the grey clouds blur with falling water over the top of the mountain in the distance. It was colder now, and you opened your door to stoke the fire and dry your clothes. You grumpily tugged your wet clothing off and hung it in front of the fire before you rekindled the embers and wrapped yourself tightly in a heavy blanket of white wool. The rain thundered on the roof, and you warmed your toes before pulling on a small pair of moccasins and peering through the glass in your windows. The animals were huddled together out of the rain as it gave the grass and small crop garden you had a good soak. It was miserable. You perched yourself on the small table and watched the weather with a hum.

“And I had so much to do today too.” You lamented quietly.

The rain was white noise after a while, and the clouds rolled over head, still full of rain when you peered back up at the sky. You jumped as a great screech sounded overhead, inhuman, furious and in pain. It sounded again with the thunderous boom of a weapon, and you jumped from the window at the flash of gun powder in the far distance, over the mountain top. Your home shook with another screeching wail as the flashes stopped and the clouds rolled again, the wind howling through the unsealed stone cracks in your cottage. There was another boom of thunder as the cries of the creature paused for a moment. You prayed they hadn’t just shot at a dragon. Dragons were harder than steel plating and bullets or canons did very little damage to their interlinked scales. Fury would follow an injured dragon, but there was no hiss and boom of burning flames. Another ear-piercing screech followed down the mountainside, as a great black figure soared into the clouds and disappeared overhead. It’s shadow hung over the top of the hill as it zipped down through the valley before it screeched again and plunged from the sky, spinning in a mass of glorious golden brown and tawny feathers before it plummeted into the muddy cow field in a mass of feathers, dirt and blood.

The cows mooed violently before trotting out to investigate the lump, the younger females hanging back under the wooden shelter. You watched the feathers float from the sky, shellshocked, before you rushed for your damp clothing and pulled it all back on. You threw on your hooded cloak and rushed out into the rain and wind. The cows called as you rushed to the fence and thumped at their flanks harshly, batting their tongues away from the creature’s wounds. It hissed, feathers brushing upwards as you dared to touch its giant body. It was huge, easily over twelve feet long, the long tail feathers crumpled under its cut legs. It had a great talon missing from one of it’s feet, and blood thrummed from the wound. You rushed to its head.

“Oh, my Sun…” You cursed as you looked at the burning orange eyes that peaked out from the great, fluffy crown of feathers. A beak opened as it hissed again, another, weak scream of upset. A threat, you realised as it’s feet moved and talons slashed at the floor.

“Don’t!” You pushed it’s shoulder as the orange bled to black and it turned onto its other side, flopping over in its attempts to push itself back onto its feet.

“You’re killing yourself!” You screamed at it as it flexed its wings and black blood spewed from its mouth. You gasped at the cavern in its side, bleeding black tar and red blood over its beautiful, soft feathers. It screeched again, madness taking over as it thrashed to get itself upright and managed, shaking on its swollen, bleeding foot. The wound to its torso was heavily bleeding, and blood poured with the stress and movement, revealing the two-inch diameter iron ball wedged in between its ribs.

“Stop!” You screeched again, putting your hands on its wings before two hard arms extended out of the feathery chest. The clawed hands snatched at you, lifting you high to its bleeding black eyes as you gasped. With a small scream, the creature reared its head back and paused as you covered its eyes, small hands encompassing its blackened gaze. Its wings sagged as it’s beak opened to let tar leak from its gullet.

“You’re going to die if you don’t let me get that bullet out of you!” You shouted up at it, clinging to its face, “Let me help you, please.”

The bird-like creature sagged, its wounded feet giving in as it paused to retch blood up once more and placed you back on the floor with a croak. The croak bubbled with tar and blood as its feathers shifted and it looked up at your little cottage. The wind shifted and blew violently, soaking the both of you with more, icy rain.

“I will not fit.” It whispered deeply, as though its voice was being carried to your ears on the wind itself.

“You can…talk…” You commented, stunned for a moment as it opened its mouth, “There’s a barn to the back. I used to keep the horse in there, but its empty now.” You reasoned as you opened the gate and coaxed the bleeding beast through the rungs. It cried out as its claws got stuck in the cattle grating, the wound from the missing toe tearing and bleeding over the wooden slats. The creature followed, feathers dripping from its body in a bloody trail as it struggled behind you, croaking and wheezing as you heaved open the doors to the horse barn and opened the door to a stall.

The creature flopped into the stall, its burning eyes dripping with tar as it wheezed, wings ruffling as it struggled to keep the gapping wound in its chest off the stone floor. You rushed to kick over a great barrel of sawdust to mop up the blood before disappearing back into the howling wind and rain to grab what little medical supplies you had. A crow squawked by your window as you rushed into the front door, his beady eye following you before it hopped into the house and cawed again, louder. Cursing, you grabbed your old sheets and shoved them into the large cooking pot with the rest of the water from the well. The fire was roaring, and they would soon be clean enough to wrap the wounds. The poultices were a little old, but they smelt fresh and clean, of mint and lavender, and you grabbed the jars and your needles and some fine thread. It would be a botch job at best, but it was all you could do for the creature. You also made sure to grab something for the pain, grabbing a bottle of dragon fire whiskey as you grappled the cooking pot of boiling sheets and shouldered the other supplies. The crow followed you out of the house again and cawed, but you paid it no mind, even as more small birds flocked with it under your porch and in the fields.

The creature was wheezing against the floor, barely breathing, when you returned, and you cursed as its eye opened, devoid of any honey colour, just filled with black. Its eyes rolled and closed.

“Try and stay awake. Please. I need you awake to stop the bleeding.” You scrubbed your hands and hung the sheets to dry as you looked at his chest again, eyeing the iron ball wedged under his bottom rib, mashed in with broken feathers and splinters of stone. With a shaky hand, you took hold of your small set of forceps, usually used to help cows calf, and soaked them in the boiling water before you dared to ease them under the plumage and grip the bullet. The creature screamed but didn’t lash out, and so, you committed, heaving the bullet down, and out of its chest with a rush of tar like goo and blood. It croaked against the stone and you reached for the fresh water and salt to rinse the sharp pieces of feather and stone away before you plucked the broken feathers around the wound away and eyed the wound for any other artifacts. It was clean. You jumped as one of the creature’s leather skinned arms appeared from out of the feathers of its chest and reached for the large bottle of whiskey you had brought. It hissed and pulled the cork free with its beak before pouring the strong alcohol into its gullet, grumbling, and croaking after with the burn.

“That much will knock you out good.” You promised as you stroked its feathery chest and pulled out your needle, sterilising it in the boiling water before you threaded it, knotted the end, and got to work, suturing the wound closed where you could, as tightly as you dared. The bird creatures’ skin was dark underneath its feathers, leathery to the touch and tanned. You closed the final part of the wound and tried not to slip too much as you knotted the end with blood slick fingers. The tar was gone, no longer leaking from its eyes and mouth. Quietly, you listened to it breathe, wheezing softly against the floor. You took hold of the mint poultice and applied a layer with honey over the wound to soothe the raw, sore skin. Wings shuffled as you reached to tear apart your sheets into large strips to wrap the wound. It cried as you returned and eased its chest up enough to reach around, duck under its arms and wrap the whole thing tightly. You pinned it before letting it rest as you cleaned and wrapped its foot, wondering if the toe would need cauterizing as you left it be, snoozing in an alcohol induced sleep. You made sure to pile hay around him for the night before you closed the doors tightly and looked at your cottage.

The crow from before cawed again from your small porch, fluttering about the floor before it landed by your window and watched you as you hauled your supplies back inside.

“What’s brought you here?” You asked, “I don’t have any seeds for you!” You shouted as it followed you into the house and settled itself over the top of your fire, seated in a small handkerchief on your mantle place.

“Fine. Make yourself at home then.” You scoffed as you looked over at your cooking pot and poured the water out of the window. You were drenched through to the bone and you shuddered as you stoked the fire again and stripped off your clothing. You hung it by the fire and sniffled as you dried off and then wrapped yourself back in your large blanket, content to snuggle into your large armchair and warm your toes by the flames. It was soothing to hear the rain slow to a patter against your roof and the soft cawing of the crow nestled in front of you. Your eyes drooped as you snuggled into the blanket and forgot about the creature laid in your barn.

A great squawk in your ear woke you up, and you jumped awake violently before the crow stomped over your lap and jumped up and down on the arm of your chair. You looked at it in confusion before pushing the blanket away and shuddering. It was cold. Using the blanket as a shawl, you stoked the fire again, throwing some more kindling and then logs into the embers to get it going as the crow fluttered into your kitchen and snapped at the crumbs on the side. You huffed and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds before you put a small handful in a bowl and watched the crow go to town.

“You’re a weird little thing.” You commented before going to get dressed in the small room you had to the left side of the cottage, leaving the crow to eat and hop around, so long as it didn’t decide that your floor was a good place to poop.

The crow was still on the countertop when you returned, watching you through one, beady black eye, as you walked towards it. It flapped in protest as you stood in front of it but didn’t squawk or fly away. It stared back at you, its head turned and tilted up to see you properly.

“Are you here for the creature?” You asked, no louder than a whisper.

In response, the crow flapped again and gave one short, loud honk.

“Hm. I don’t think I trust you just yet.” You scolded gently before you offered your hand to the crow. The corvid pecked a finger before stepping onto your hand and skipping up your arm, hopping as it went along your sleeve, its beak holding itself up when it slipped against the cotton.

“Come on then. Let’s go and see how our house guest…well, our barn guest, is doing.” You tapped the crow’s beak and headed towards the door. You both looked up at the morning sun and smiled, thankful for the sunshine. The crow flapped again and spread its wings to soak in the rays before you turned to head around the back of the cottage where the barn was.

The rain had washed away most of the blood, leaving clumps of muddy feathers around the rocks and fence posts as the evidence that the creature had passed through. You stepped over a puddle and heaved open the barn door. A great rumbling croak sounded as you stepped inside, leaving the door open a little to let the morning air in. The creature’s feathers dragged against the piles of hay and the stone floor, as it struggled to raise its head. When it managed to get high enough, one, burning orange eye peered over the top of the stall, eyeing you as you approached the wooden gate.

“Good morning.” You uttered as it flopped back against the floor with a sad, long croak. The crow on your shoulder squawked again before fluttering down to the great beast and moving from the bottom of its tail feathers to its hooked beak. It opened one giant eye and huffed before looking at you again and opening its mouth.

“Sustenance.” Its great voice rumbled before closing its eyes again, struggling to swallow as the crow pecked gently at the loose feathers on its face, pulling them free before it tapped its beak against the other and flew up to the side of the stall.

“Food?” You asked, “Well, I have some but certainly not enough to feed you. You’re giant, if you don’t mind me saying and I don’t know if I could feed you.” You confessed, holding the top of the gate as the creature hissed lowly and dragged its great claws along the floor.

“I will hunt.” It rasped.

“NO!” You grabbed it’s shoulder, gently pulling it back down, “You’ll open all of my hard work. You, sit there. And you,” you pointed to the crow, “you’re coming with me.”

The crow nodded and fluttered out of the barn. Before you could turn to follow, the giant bird-creature rustled its feathers and its leathery, clawed hand appeared, holding your waist to keep you in place.

“Thank…you.” It hissed, “I am… Qene.”

It’s name was hissed, a long pronunciation of E’s which made you wonder just of what race is was. If it was a fae, it would not have told you it’s true name, lest you bind it in contracts. You introduced yourself quietly and it nodded, slowly, exhausted still.

“I am…God of the Valley. Wind, weather and bird.” Qene rasped, “He who…controls the mountains.”

“A…God?” You whispered as the creature let go of your waist, “A god in my barn and…”

Qene huffed and collapsed again in his hay bedding.

“I’ve got questions but let me feed you first. What do you eat?” You asked.

Qene raised his beak from the hay to speak, his voice like a small thunderous rumble, “Meat. I hunt…deer and elk. Anything to then give back to the…” His eyes closed slowly, the orange disappearing behind his eyelid before he fell back asleep.

“I guess a chicken might have to do…or maybe I can get a deer from Thriskar.” You pondered as you followed the crow out of the barn and went for your bag and a bow.

Thriskar scoffed at your request, “A deer? A whole one?” The orc sniffed before he carried on skinning the buck he had strung up outside his small home, “What the fuck do you need a whole…” he smirked then, suddenly, as though he had been told the funniest joke, “Do you have company over? Wanting to impress?”

With a snort, you were quick to flip your middle finger up at the orc, “Yeah, fuck you. I need it for pickling and smoking. I want to not live off my cows again this winter.”

“Well, you’re in luck then.” Thriskar commented, rolling his eyes as he wiped the blood from his hands and pointed to the young buck hanging in his shop, “I caught that yesterday. Should be drained enough for smoking now if you want it.”

“How much?” You asked, sceptically.

Thriskar grinned as he tapped the counter in his shop, perching himself, leaned over the counter, before he tapped his lips, “A kiss and four bronze, or seven bronze if you’re feeling less generous.”

“You’re the worst.” You commented as you handed him the seven bronze coins, “I should be able to carry it before you offer that too.”

“Here.” Thriskar laughed as he pulled the creature’s pelt out and tied the deer in a sling like fashion around your back, “You should get it back now.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t make a habit of it okay? I won’t give you the skin for free in future!” he warned as he saw you out of the door and down the path back towards home.

The crow squawked overhead, and you saw Thriskar look up and shake his head before the crow landed on your shoulder.

“Well done. Now he really will think I’m a witch or something.” You scolded the crow as it hopped from your right shoulder, over to your left.

“You don’t need me for that. He likes you enough to want a kiss, doesn’t he? Does that affection not prove anything?” The crow squawked.

You felt your back go cold, “How…can you…”

“Talk?” It asked, “I am…omnipresent within my children.”

“Qene?” You asked as the crow eyed you.

“Yes…” It rasped tiredly, “I wanted to ensure you would be safe.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s nothing but pesky fae and annoying goblins, and they know not to mess with me. I like salt, iron and flowers too much.” You smiled. The crow’s head turned again before it let out another squawk and shook its wings and head violently, as though it had been released from some kind of spell.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that was lots of fun, huh?” You asked as you stroked the crow’s head and carried on along the path.

Home was a great greeting of farm animals. The chorus was loud and upset, as they had expected their food early in the morning and now it was almost midday. You heaved the deer off your back and onto the porch. The cows crowded the gate as you went to retrieve a hay bale with a pitchfork. There was a lot to tend to before you could give your guest the food he needed. The cows were happy for their filled hay and you were quick to give the sheep and chickens their food before you dragged the deer away from your little crow friend, and towards the large barn on your back. You opened the door and peered inside. Once again, Qene lifted his head, just high enough to see over the top of the stable door, his burning orange gaze looking directly at you.

“I’m back.” You smiled, “And I got you this!”

“Meat?” Qene droned over the top of the stable, “Deer…. No innards.”

“We don’t tend to eat the insides…the intestines are for sausages though.” You told him as you opened the door and laid the deer over the stone floor.

“Sausages?” Qene rasped, his head tilted as his feather’s rustled, and he pulled himself along the floor, his beak opening.

Spit dripped from his beak as his tongue extended, pointed and tanned like his skin. He licked at his beak before he took a great chunk out of the hind of the deer.

“Thank you.” Qene rumbled as he threw his head back and swallowed the chunk of deer, “This…will help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you reached to pluck one of his feathers from the floor, looking at the now dull brown colour. When it had been attached to his face, it was shiny, golden and beautiful.

Qene ripped more from the deer and noticed you spinning the crushed feather by its quill, “They do not live once they are detached…True power flows through them, but they cannot be removed with it forcefully.”

“What kind of power?” You asked as you sat by the stable door, “I’ve…Well, I guess you are a God.”

Qene scoffed, “It is why I took a bullet to the chest.”

“They’re after your feathers?”

“Yes. Fools that they are.” Qene snorted again over the carcass, “Even if they have no value when they are forcibly plucked.”

You decided not to press the issue, and simply sat as Qene ate, intrigued by the way he plucked at the meat, tearing it all from the bones before smashing open the bones for the marrow inside, his tongue licking at the blood and goo before the bones were then crushed and eaten.

“We really should change your bandages.” You offered as the God finished crunching the brains inside the skull.

“There is no need.” Qene grumbled as he swallowed the last pieces of his meal, “This will be enough for me to heal fully.” His eye turned on you again, “And soon I will be out of your hair.”

“What do you mean you’re almost healed?” You scoffed, “Let me see.”

Qene chuffed and opened his bandages with a swipe of his claws, “See for yourself.”

You shuffled through the hay and looked at the exposed wound below his ribcage. Except, now it was no longer a gaping wound, it was a healing wound, scabbed over where you had stitched it, the flesh filling the line quickly, and moving by the second.

“How is that happening?” You asked in fascination, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I am the God of this valley. God of the Iron Lake valley. I am not…held by your mortal deigns.” Qene rasped, his voice growing in strength like a thunderstorm now that he had eaten, “But I would…like some more of that Dragon Fire Whiskey, if you have anymore?”

You looked at his feet and noticed his toe had not grown back, but was quickly snapped from your revere as you smiled and laughed, “More whiskey? Its only just past midday but sure. I’ll go and get the rest of the bottle for you, since you’re a God and all that.” You turned to stand and opened the stall, “Does it even have an effect on you?”

The God huffed and opened his beak in something that looked like a smile, his claws tucked under his head and his wings blanketed over his body, “Not greatly, but it is strong, so I can feel the effects for a moment.”

“So, when you chugged it for the pain…”

“It did not help for a long time.” Qene confirmed, “But I am grateful for your help. Without you, I would have gone mad and destroyed much of this place in my agony.”

“Well, you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after what other humans did to you. Now, let me get you that whiskey.”

Qene’s feather’s rustled in the valley winds, and he raised his head as he stepped out of the barn, his claws dragging on the floor before he spread his wings and let the wind run through his feathers. A few final dead ones fluttered away on the wind, browning as they disappeared up the hills.

“It feels like an eon since I felt the wind.” Qene rumbled as he flapped his wings and stood tall to look over the fields and up to the mountain, “I will now no longer burden you.”

“I…I’m glad you’re well, but…” You looked at the mountain again, “Won’t they be waiting for you?”

“Waiting for me?” Qene rumbled, his head tilted to peer down at you, “They may be, but my home is my own…”

“Why not stay here?” You asked as the small crow cawed and landed on your shoulder, “They won’t look for you here.”

“And why would you want this?” he asked as he dipped his head, “I am not of your kind, nor am I a welcome guest. I fell into your home.”

“But you are also a welcome one now.” You smiled at him, “I don’t mind you being here. You even helped me get those hay bales out of the barn.”

Qene’s eyes looked to the mountain with longing, “My home…”

“You can go and see…but if you want to come back then…”

Qene lowered his beak to your head, pressing the top to the top of your skull before he looked you in the eyes and licked at your cheek, “Silly human. I…” he rumbled, “I will see my home, but I will return…for visits or for…If my home is not inhabitable.”

You reached up to his face and carefully stroked along Qene’s feathered neck, the golden feathers soft and pretty, “Come back when you want.” You smiled, “Maybe you can replace the whiskey you drank, huh?”

Qene laughed, his beak open and eyes closed, “Perhaps…Or maybe I can bring you something better?”

“Something better?” You asked.

The God nodded his head, “I will bring you a feather, if I return, and weave it into your hair.”

“To what end? What does that mean?” You stroked his neck.

“That you are chosen by me, by the valley god…” he confessed, “That you will be my priestess.”

You laughed softly, “I don’t know about being a religious figure but…”

“You will be mine?” Qene rumbled, his wings flexing.

“Maybe I will, Qene.” You promised before the God flexed his wings and pounded them three times, lifting from the field and into the air.

The crow on your shoulder rubbed its head under your chin, “I will be here. My eyes see everything.”

“I know, Qene. Good luck.” You whispered to the crow before the shadow in the clouds disappeared back towards the mountain.

Weeks past with warm weather and pleasant breezes. The mountain was silent, looming in the distance over the valley, and you tended to your animals and small vegetable patch. Thriskar came for some milk and eggs, looking at the sudden brightness to your animals and farm.

“It is like a God has touched this place!” He commented over a cold glass of milk one day, crunching carrot sticks between his teeth as he looked at the farm. His comment made you wonder just where Qene was. Since he had left the farm had been brighter, fuller of life, but quiet and Qene had not spoken through your crow companion for a long time. You were beginning to think something had happened, and often you went to bed after leaving a bottle of whiskey on the porch. This night, you did the same, placing the bottle out on the porch with a small candle in a holder, before heading to bed.

The next morning you opened the door and stood over a single, golden feather. The feather glowed in the early morning light, bright and brilliant, burning with power. The whiskey was uncorked, and the candle blown out. You rushed for both items, grabbing the feather, and clutching it close before you rounded the corner and thundered into the barn. Qene’s orange eye slowly peered over the top of the stall.

“Hello, little bird.” Qene rumbled before he pushed open the gate, “It has been a while.”

“Qene!” You rushed to the bird creature and hugged him around the neck.

Qene raised his neck and hung you before he gripped you around the waist and smiled, clucking softly with a purr before he placed you back on the floor, “I have missed you. My home is gone, destroyed and trapped. I…I searched for somewhere, but I have ended up back at your doorstep.”

“So…You’re here to stay?” You asked gently.

He nodded his head, “If I am welcome. I will make a home here and…I would like to know more about you.”

You looked up at the eagle face. His eyes were covered by golden and brown feathers, and you reached up to push them away, staring at the orange eyes of the God.

“You were always welcome.” You cooed before kissing the top of his beak.

“Thank you, little bird.” Qene cooed back as his leathery skin rubbed against your own, “The whiskey was a treat.” he chuckled.

“You’re going to have to give me some way to buy more! It’s so expensive!” You scolded.

#forest god x reader #god x reader #bird creature x reader #fae x reader #monster x reader #monster bf x reader #monster bf #monster boyfriend #qene x reader #gender neutral reader #monster reader insert #bird man #bird creature #valley god x reader #valley god

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foryouthegays · 3 years

Text

It ends today. [Dream SMP] summary (not liveblog because im tired, but i’ll try to include more good lines and moments)

word count: 3,638

ill be writing the timestamps without : things because im lazy, theyll all have 5 numbers, so the timestamp at an hour, 12 minutes, and 4 seconds would be 11204. you’ll figure it out.

total death count by techno or his dogs: 25. doesn’t count fall damage deaths or wither deaths

(04045 Quackity) (04055 Ponk) (04115 Tubbo) (04225 Ponk) (04315 Tubbo) (04320 Quackity) (04500 Ponk) (04535 Ponk) (05929 Tubbo) (05150 Tommy) (05245 Tubbo) (05340 Tubbo) (05450 Tommy) (05450 Tubbo) (05830 Tubbo) (05845 Quackity) (05950 Tommy) (05950 Tubbo) (10045 Callahan) (10140 Tubbo) (10140 Quackity) (10145 Ponk) (10450 Jack Manifold) (11025 Jack Manifold) (11945 Tubbo)

sellout pog: 001925, 11710, 14235, 21115

good laugh times: 04511 05055 05315

good quotes: (004240 NO ONE KILLS ANIMALS LIKE SAPNAP!!!) (05335 LOOK AT YOUR COUNTRY FALL, TUBBO!) (10000 IT WOULDN’T BE A FINAL BOSS IF I DIDN’T HAVE STAGES!) (11150 WOOOO THE MONOTONY OF LIFE POGGG) (12115 the real government is the friends we made along the way) (13035 sapnap strikes me as the guy to kill Santa Claus)

do do dooo/ other stims: 00736, 01150 bruuuhhh, 002420, 15203

other:

(sap and techs “convo” at 05530 is fuckin hilarious i highly rec watchin it) (05950 TECHNOPLANEEE)

summary:

He starts the stream in his base with Philza. They talk about viewer counts and their plan for the day, while making gear, potions, and other materials. Techno makes fireworks, and shows his statistics in the server, which are as follows:

Animals bred - 1,494

Armor pieces cleaned - 0

Banners cleaned - 0

Barrels opened - 107

Bells rung - 9,500

Cake slices eaten - 6

Cauldrons filled - 0

Chests opened - 13,963

Damage absorbed - 83.70

Damaged blocked by shield - 83.50

Damage dealt - 163799.30

Damage dealt (absorbed) - 113.90

Damage dealt (resisted) - 0

Damage resisted - 118.90

Damage taken - 10198.80

Dispensers searched - 13

Distance climbed - 10.51 km

Dsitance crouched - 8.01 km

Distance fallen - 94.48 km

Distance flown - 808.59

Distance sprinted - 300.17 km

[mobs]

Bat - killed 2

Blaze - killed 693

Cave spider - killed 64,513

Chicken - killed 2

Cod - killed 4

Cow - killed 369

Creeper - killed 1,213

Donkey - killed 2

Drowned - killed 54

Elder guardian - killed 1

Enderman - killed 161

Endermite - killed 4

Evoker - killed 2

Ghast - killed 102

Guardian - killed 6

Hoglin - killed 13

Horse - killed 150

Magma cube - killed 542

Pig - killed 2

Piglin - killed 96

Pillager - killed 127

Pufferfish - killed 1

Ravager - killed 3

Salmon - killed 7

Silverfish - killed 3

Skeleton - killed 312

Slime - killed 40

Spider - killed 234

Squid - killed 16

Vex - killed 6

Villager - killed 6

Vindicator - killed 17

Wandering Trader - killed 2

Witch - killed 7

Wither Skeleton - killed 2,615

Wolf - killed 1

Zombie - killed 927, was killed 1 time

Zombie Villager - killed 12

Zombified piglin - killed 189

He talks about how the 2,615 Wither skeletons killed feels low, but does the math and thinks it’s fine. He moves on, and continues brewing Invis potions. He makes black and red fireworks for several minutes.

00845 Dream scares Phil by logging in right behind Techno, and they join a voice channel together. Dream gives Techno several stacks of TNT, and Dream finally tells Techno his ‘special plan.’

Dream says that they have to go early, and destroy it 30 minutes early. Dream tells them of a spy, and how L’Manburg is going to show up exactly at 3:00, instead of getting there early.

Techno asks Dream what he needs from him, and Dream essentially says that Phil shouldn’t listen to the conversation, and tries to make Techno leave Phils call. Techno declines, and they continue their conversation in the house.

01100 Dream explains that he can’t set up redstone, because it’s too easy to destroy, and that he’s going to have to set up the machines while the battle is happening. He tells Techno to stall the battle for twenty minutes, and Techno argues, saying that the risk is too one-sided for him and that it would be too easy for Dream to betray him by not setting up the machines.

Techno agrees after Dream brings up the dog army and the withers, and Techno says that he was only complaining to see how unreasonable Dream actually was.

Techno asks Phil for more potions, including speed, strength, and regeneration, and he keeps talking about the Turtle Master potions, and quickly runs to the Vault to get the skulls.

Dream mentions Ender Pearls, and Techno agrees that they would be useful. On the way to trade with Orphan, Techno goes down to Tommy’s former room, calls it the Traitor Pit, and breaks the prime log. He starts to leave, but changes his mind, and blows up the Traitor Pit.

He leaves the past behind him, and goes back up to trade with Orphan. He gets more pearls, and then continues brewing potions. Phil gives Techno his trident again, and wonders aloud if he should bring Phil.

On one hand, Phil only has one life, but Phil also has a grudge against L’Manburg, and Phil insists he come along.

Techno gives Phil the only remaining Totem of Undying, and several Wither skulls. Techno tells Phil to not be in the main battle at first, and to hide, be careful, and to only spawn Withers when Techno sends the signal, shooting the fireworks into the sky.

They go over their inventories and Ender chests, Techno gets more weakness arrows, and Dream and Techno use the sellout bell one last time.

While outside, Techno mentions that Phil tore down Tommy’s cobblestone tower, and Dream almost blows up Tommys’ former house, but Techno stops him, saying that it might be Ghostburs.

Dream also gives Techno and Phil obsidian for building, and Techno gives Dream his TNT back, saying it wouldn’t be useful. He also gives Phil a God Apple, and tells him to (02245) not risk his life for him. Dream counters that, mentioning that Phil could risk his life for him, and Techno refuses to let Dream continue.

Techno also brews a Slow Falling potion, one of the rarest potions on the server. Dream talks about his status as a homeless person, and Dream does not accept it, and tells Techno that his main goal is to make everyone homeless, because blowing up L’Manburg would make everyone there live without a house. Techno calls himself ‘Anti-House.’

After crafting an unenchanted Netherite axe, they leave. Dream follows him to the Dog Sanctuary.

02939, right before leaving the Nether, Techno chants: 2, 4, 6, 8, who do we appreciate?? Not the government! GOO!!!! And splashes Invis potions on himself, Dream, and Phil.

They enter the Overworld to find Sapnap close to the portal. Techno tells him that He’s actually TommyInnit, and runs to the portal before Sapnap can process that. Dream and Phil follow, and they make it to the Dog Sanctuary.

03200 Dream is surprised at the amount of dogs in the cave, and Techno starts talking about the plan. He says that because L’Manburg has a law against killing pets, they won’t be able to do anything to stop the army from killing them. Dream calls him evil after he reveals that he’s going to splash the dogs with both strength and invis, and they move out with a pack of dogs following.

Dream shows them an obsidian network above L’Manburg, and says that he’s going to make TNT Dispensers on it. Dream leaves, and they get into position.

03700. Techno joins the L’Manburg VC, and starts yelling at them, calling them idiots and asking where they are. They tell him that theres still 24 minutes until the war starts, and Techno starts encouraging them to come back, but then remembers that he’d have to hold them off while Dream sets up, so he tells them to take their time and wait until the scheduled time.

Tommy sees the obsidian network, and shoots Phil. Techno and Tommy start arguing. Techno calls himself a liar, but justifies it by mentioning the 1v30 he’d have to do.

Tommy takes his first death, falling from a pillar trying to reach Dream.

Tubbo shoots Techno, and the dogs start chasing him. Techno splashes the potions on them, and watches as the war starts. He calls the wolves ‘The Dogs of War,’ and quickly kills both Quackity, Ponk, and Tubbo.

Tubbo drops a Trident, and Techno wonders if it’s his. He keeps fighting, and quickly remembers that Sapnap is known for his animal killing.

He continues killing, but decides on a compromise. If they back off, he won’t kill them as he blows up the country. They disagree, and Techno eats a God apple before shooting the fireworks into the sky.

04430 Philza deploys the Withers. The Citizens yell about the Bees, and Techno continues his destruction. He stores the new trident in his Ender Chest and organizes his inventory, adding some Wither skulls and soulsand for later.

Five Withers storm L’Manburg as the country fights back, and Techno tries to find Invis potions. He raids houses and makes more Withers, and L’Manburg is left to fight nine Withers as Techno restarts his Laptop.

Running back into the action, Techno realizes he’s been using normal arrows this entire time, and puts the fireworks in his offhand. He meets Phil in his house, and Phil gives Techno another Invis pot. He finds a book, called ‘Do Not Read,’ in his Inventory, and Ranboo asks for it back. Techno gives the book to Ranboo, and tells him to flee, that he doesn’t have anything against him, and to survive the war in safety. Ranboo runs.

Sapnap yells that another Wither is down, and Techno jumps back into battle. He kills Tubbo again, and Dream messages ‘destroy l’mantree’ to him. Techno asks which tree that is, and starts moving to where he thinks it is.

In the background, Tommy starts to plan. He says that, (05040) ‘we’ve got to kill the Withers first, and then we can fight The Blade.’

Phil scoffs at that, and Techno keeps going. He finds an ender chest and repairs his armor with XP bottles.

Techno continues killing, and Dream finally tells him where the tree is. Before he can make it there, Dream sets off the TNT canons, and destruction rains from the sky as L’Manburg cries out in confusion.

05335 He finds Tubbo in the middle of the country, and yells, “LOOK AT YOUR COUNTRY FALL, TUBBO!” Tubbo falls along with it, and doesn’t respond as Techno shoots him, once again, with a firework rocket.

05355 Tommy climbs onto a bridge and begs Techno to not shoot.

“You didn’t have to do this! The thing about the discs, Technoblade, is that they were for me! We could’ve had a government, and- ”

“I don’t care about the discs, Tommy! I was upfront with you from the start, the government has to go!”

“Technoblade, you are selfish!”

“Selfish?! You’ve used me from the start, Tommy! You’re wearing my helmet as we speak!”

“Technoblade, you said we betrayed you! You said we were the ones that betrayed you!”

“You betrayed me like, twelve times!”

“Technoblade, look at me. Look at me, right now. You said you hated governments, you said we were the ones that betrayed you. You were the one who killed Tubbo when JSchlatt told you to! You were the one who betrayed us, out of all-”

“I was peer pressur- You betrayed me, like, yesterday! You used me as a weapon! You’ve never thought of me as a friend, Tommy, you’ve just used me from the start. You saw me just as The Blade, that’s all I was to you, The Blade, a weapon, well guess what?” Techno pauses, and his voice is tense as he continues. “I’m choosing what I fight for now, and I’m going to destroy the government, Tommy! You all die!”

He fires the fireworks towards Tommy, killing him and Tubbo with the same shot.

He watches as the TNT falls from the sky, and finally, Tommy asks to speak once more.

“You were our friend, and you know what?-”

“Tommy, you never thought of me as a friend, Tommy,”

“Listen to me!”

“I listened to you for weeks, what did you do? You went back to Tubbo, the guy that exiled you, that chose his country over you,”

“People are above the government!”

“I’M A PERSON!”

“You ARE, Techno, and so are we! The reason the discs- they were stolen from me! Nothing-”

“Discs aren’t people!”

“Nothing was taken from you! You’re selfish! You destroyed the people for your own self gain! You’re selfish!”

“All of these problems are because of your government,” Techno starts, “Your government has caused all these issues. I believe in freedom, Tommy!”

“You- You don’t believe in freedom! When you were peer pressured, that wasn’t freedom, that’s you following what the government told you!”

“Bro, Tommy, that was like four months ago, ok?”

“IT WAS! LET’S NOT FORGET ABOUT THE PAST RIGHT NOW- Tubbo! Tubbo he killed you!”

“He’s the president, get him OUT of here!” Techno shoots at Tubbo, who hides behind some stone, “He’s wearing YOUR helmet!”

“And you killed him!”

“Yeah, because he’s the president!

“But even when he wasn’t the president, you killed him as well.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“You’re as bad as the government, Technoblade.”

“Hey, remember when I was sitting there, alone, against the whole government, and you and Wilbur just sat there on the sidelines, and watched? Did you step in? Did you step in? Were you guys the ones who stepped in and said, don’t worry, Technoblade, we know you’re in a high pressure situation, but we’ll fight the world for you, Technoblade? NO! You guys watched- You know what I did, yesterday? When you were surrounded by thirty people, the whole world was against you? I walked in. I was willing to fight all of them for you, Tommy. I would’ve been there.

That is the difference between us.”

“We spent HOURS together-”

“DON’T speak to me of loyalty!”

“You were my friend, and you betrayed us!”

“You never thought of me as a friend!”

“The- The thing about this government, is that it didn’t interfere with you!”

“It did!”

“No, it didn’t! The discs were stolen by Dream-”

“I don’t care about discs! I care about freedom! The government! We can’t have freedom with the government!”

“You have your own freedom, just let people love what they love, man!” (lmao homophobic techno confirmed? /J :LKJFDSLKFJ)

“Tommy...I used to think like that, Tommy. You know what they did to me? They hunted me down! The whole Butcher Army, and they executed me! I tried being peaceful, Tommy, but the government made it clear that we could not coexist.”

“And so you spawn Withers??? All you do is repeat history, but worse.”

“YOU GUYS brought this upon YOURSELVES, I was willing to live in my cottage and be chill, and just farm turtles, but you guys made it clear-”

“Technoblade, you can’t just go back to your cottage after you blow up the government! That’s not how this works, actions have consequences!”

Techno shoots at Tommy and Tubbo, killing Tubbo. “Actions do have consequences, Tommy, and THESE are the consequences!” He splashes potions at his feet, and chases after Quackity. He kills him quickly, and Quackity yells about how he has to face the consequence of his former actions. Techno told him that he had changed, and the Butcher Army refused to let him live his life, but Quackity says that he had to face his punishment.

Tommy calls Techno a tyrant, and is almost immediately killed as Techno launches himself into the air and uses the slowfalling potions to aim, and fire.

10130 Someone (I can’t tell who, help) asks why Phil is there, and why he hates the government, and he responds, “Since I was forced to kill my own son, you idiot!”

Tommy asks Techno where the L’mantree is, and Techno reveals that he doesn’t actually know what that is, but that Dream wanted to blow it up earlier. Several people start screaming, mourning the loss of their tree, as Techno celebrates.

Techno runs out of fireworks, and decides that their destruction is over. He notices that no one is fighting back, and asks if everyones just given up.

“What is there left to protect?”

Techno laughs, and Niki speaks for the first time. “I burnt the tree.”

Techno compliments her, and looks over the destruction.

10350 “WELCOME,” he says, “TO THE YOUNGEST ANARCHY SERVER IN MINECRAFT!”

Jack Manifold challenges him, and they fight. Techno runs out of potions, but still manages to win. Manifold takes too long to pick up his items, so Techno spawns another Wither. At this point, there’s four Withers roaming the former country.

Techno decides to kill the Withers to get Nether Stars, and while looking for a place to shoot, he finds Eret watching the chaos. He asks if he supports government, but answers the question for them. “There’s no need to risk your neck for a country you’re not even a part of.”

Eret then says that they’re just there for the Nether Stars, and Techno laughs. Techno kills a Wither, and Phil takes the star.

Techno starts talking about how he wanted L’Manburg to be a chunk error, and decides to get rid of the water so the TNT can work. He mentions that he has the Trident back, and that he’s probably not going to ever get the Axe of Peace from Tommy.

Dream continues blowing the country up, and Techno gives Phil his trident back. Techno tells Dream to nuke the entire area, but finds out that Ghostbur is close, and frantically makes him stop. He then remembers that Ghostbur is a literal ghost and can not die.

Hbomb tries to tell Techno to blow up Manifold Land, but Techno refuses, saying that it isn’t really a country, and is instead just one person.

Ghostbur arrives, and starts looking around the crater. Techno leaves to find a bell to be a sellout. He tells us that if he gets 5 million subscribers today, he’ll set up the second monitor.

They talk about timezones and relax after the chaos. Techno attempts a triple kill but fails, and Manifold declares war on him. Techno threatens his house, so Manifold decides to not do that.

Sapnap punches him, and Techno starts to spawn a Wither, but Sapnaps’ efficiency V Netherite shovel is enough to make Techno run in fear.

12320 Tommy gets struck by lightning. SO LONG, THESEUS! EVEN GOD HATES HIM! -techno

Sap tries to kill Techno with a Channeling trident, but Techno takes no damage and almost spawns another Wither, but decides to fly away instead. Sapnap goes mad with power, and tries to kill Ponk with tridents and wither roses. Techno sings the Manhunt music as Ponk runs from Sapnap and BadBoyHalo.

After exploring the wreckage and joking with the survivors, Phil and Techno go to their own VC and go back home. Philza is jumped by a baby zombie, but Techno manages to kill it and save him.

13515He ties the stream together by chanting ‘2, 4, 6, 8, who do we appreciate? Philza minecraft!! yeah!!!!’

They go inside to reorganize their chests, and Techno realizes that he still has two stacks of Wither skulls. Techno and Phil agree that the Withers they used were enough, and they talk about how the battle went.

Phil gives Techno the Totem and the God Apple back.

Techno also implies that if Phil dies, the destruction would be far, far worse, and his life is worth more than anything that had happened beforehand. They are best friends ur honor.

While ranting about the government, Technoblade reveals that he still has the anvil used to execute him in his ender chest. Techno covers Tommys old home, and tears down the signs they used as a checklist.

Looking at Em, Techno remembers the dogs he didn’t use to fight, and Phil brings up a Stasis Pearl Chamber as a way to teleport all the dogs back at the same time. They quickly build it, and Techno starts running to the remains of L’Manburg.

He makes it to the dog cave without any trouble, and makes all the dogs stand. Philza teleports him back, and the dogs take some fall damage as they land with him. He puts the dogs into the house next to his, and Phil says that he’s going to build a kennel later.

Phil reveals that Ghostbur was not happy with the whole ‘blowing up L’Manburg’ thing, and that Friend had died, and now, Ghostbur wants to be brought back to life. Phil is hesitant, and he doesn’t know if his memories will stay, if he could handle it, and other variables.

20320 Techno finally shows Carl again, but doesn’t show where he’s hidden. He uses the intermission screen to hide his location from even the viewers, but Carl is fine. He puts him back in the display stable, but then moves him back, fearing his life.

20630, Techno jokes about the Turtle Shell Helmets and it’s adorable. please go watch it. he then talks about the Sad-Ist animation for a few seconds, and talks about the fanartists in the community. He mentions making a playlist of animations and animatics, which would be really cool.

He ends the stream ringing the sellout bell.

#technoblade #this took over four hours i swear if yall dont fuckin reblog it im gonna scream

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crafty-business4130 · 3 years

Text

so to expand upon this lets go in some ideas on what helscraft is like

i like to think that helscraft is a weird glitched copy of the overworld and the nether mixed together. for the cannon of my hermit duplicate’s AU (of which i will be referring to within this post) the dimension of helscraft isnt really a full dimension that always appears in every world like the end and nether. it only spawns into a world after a year or so of players putting all of their love and care into the world. the world builds up enough of all that good energy and then causes a opposite opposing Force to form. thus helscraft spawns into existence. in a way you could say the whole dimension of helscraft is a duplicate as well.

now one thing that kinda throws a a wrench in the works of this idea is that every year or so the hermits move into a new world, though since its normally has been roughly the same amount of players in each season we can go with the hermitcraft dimension of hels is carried over with each world jump. the world of hels change to match the new overworld but its still the same helshermits. though for the hermits that leave the server their hels counterpart disappears. this may also work in reverse as well. only have one example so far so who know :) cOUGHCOughNHOcOUGh

with the the hows and whys on helscraft existence out-of-the-way let's get into some worldbuilding!

as ive already mentioned, helscraft is somewhat of a glitchy mix of the overworld and nether. what i havent mentioned is that a good bit of the April Fools updates and removed features for the overworld ended up floating over to helscraft but unlike the overworld in which these features disappear pretty quickly they ended up sticking around in helscraft, for better or worst.

heres a list of examples of this, of which i then expanded upon them to make them more fleshed-out.

the list got really long so the rest of the post is under the cut! :D

Pig and cow sized horses, if fed too much will cause the animal to grow dangerous mutations that can not only kill the animal but make its remains toxic and unedible. You can make a green book via using toxic leather (the crafting book)

A common spell is to summon flame that then can be used for new crafting recipes. one such recipe is flaming barrels, if someone walks too close it will explode, another is chainmail armor

if you put too much fuel into a furnace it will explode.

torches burn out an hour or two after being lit

chickens are deadly, do not provoke them. it is extremely rare but the is a very small chance spawn in a blue chicken. only able to spawn via throwing eggs. it drops lapis and diamonds instead of eggs. beware tho, all chickens in the immediate vicinity will protect the blue one with their lives and will attack anything that gets too close.

eating or feeding an animal a god apple will cause it to float upwards for five minutes before slowly descending back to the ground.

Wheat if not chopped after fully grown will go bad and die, same thing with other crops. though you can make Iron infused melon and pumpkins, it insures that the stem won't die over time after its first produce

Powered Redstone causes redstone bugs to spawn, it can be stopped by combining lapis and redstone dust together to make bluestone dust. asifhfsssdhv only a noob uses redstone.

Redstone wire, another alternative of redstone made with redstone dust surrounded by cobwebs. it insulates the redstone and stops bugs from spawning. pretty much the same thing function wise but is a pretty cool thing to use to flex on others

Villagers are instead piglins, not the tanned ones added into the nether update but rather pink skinned ones.

Glowing obsidian, a glowing red version of obsidian. Only found in trades with piglins

In helscraft there are lava oceans instead of water, water can only be found deep underground. Lava instead of water is infinite, water is no longer infinite.

The world of hels first looked like the indev world theme of hell, with following updates to the overworld helscraft changed and evolved as well. There is no sun nor moon, just a forever floating layer of lava that acts to light up the dimension.

Frostwalker is instead, Magmawalker, turning lava into magma blocks shortly before melting back into lava

Boss fights arent the same in helscraft as in the normal overworld and its closely neighboring tied in dimensions of the end and nether. Not found in helscraft are Guardians, the ender dragon, and technically the Wither as well. Instead you can find Giants, the red dragon, the four horse men(much more difficult to defeat)

Giants unlike the ai less ones you can spawn using commands are living and breathing monsters that roam the land. During their travels any ghasts they cross will join them on their wandering

Ghasts can be somewhat tamed in helscraft. If you can successfully capture a baby ghast from its parents and raise it yourself the ghast will be malleable enough, somewhat like foxes but just a bit more wild. If you happen to accidentally harm them it will turn on you and fight you to the death, be it your’s or theirs.

It's a very very rare find but huge brick pyramids can spawn into the world. in season 7 helscraft’s cubfan took up residence within one that spawned in Incredibly Close to spawn

There are alot of different nonsensical potions that can be brewed for interesting drinks. some have a use, most dont tho. all of em have amazingly different tastes and smells

instead of honeycomb there is crystallized honey, it functions as pretty much the exact same thing. has its block too, call the wax block.

Killer bunnies spawn in more often than normal bunnies

Og stonecutter, can cut blocks into half. Not only used for stone. can cut doors, beds, and much more into halfs

Nether reactor core, could be the key on how to jump between the hermitcraft and helscraft. will need to think on this idea some more though

Petrified Forest, a biome within helscraft that has wood as hard as stone and a texture reminiscent of a mix of acacia and crimson planks color wise.

unsure as of yet on what to call it but the volcanic biome the Rempirer had Rendog make is a biome within helscraft as well!(the Rempirer is ren’s helscraft counterpart... he wasnt always evil as he is now)

the mobs that lost the vote found their way into helscraft, not just the moobloom all of them. the three mystery mobs from the 2017 and the ice illager. (i voted for the glow squid and while i do still stand by my decision it is truely a shame we might not see any of them all in the game ever )

Studded armor and plate armor, alternatives to leather and chainmail. studded armor is made with leather and stone and plate armor is made with smooth stone slabs

stained glass looks a bit like this

and colored wool like this!

and thats everything for now. ill probly be working out some more ideas since theres a surprisingly large amount of features that have been added to minecraft either hidden away in the background or removed.

also if anyone wants a some links to where i found these old and mostly forgotten facts ill post em in the notes when i get the time to do so. theres a lot of them tho so i might forget a few

hey also if you like these you might also like my Discord! i made it for this au and i tend to share my ideas a bit more over there than over here. theres a lot to see :DD

#hermit duplicate au #hermitcraft #helscraft #worldbuilding #odd facts board lmao #also #only a noob uses redstone #kjladcknac #only cool kids use blue stone #if i knew how to code i would 100% make all of this into a mod

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maggiec70 · 3 years

Text

Prince Bagration Makes a Cameo Appearance

Another excerpt from the longest-running histfic draft. This is for Tairin. I hope I did her prince justice, small though it may be.

Jean’s staff found a two-story house large enough for them all in a northern Viennese suburb. General Compans ordered the portly, red-faced owner and his large family to leave, slipping him a fistful of gold coins before he could protest. Mariana couldn’t tell how many coins constituted a fistful, but they produced an incredulous expression on the man’s face and then a deep bow that revealed his blindingly bald, pink pate. There must be a secret source of gold coins that only Compans and Thomières knew about, perhaps hidden away in a sturdy oak box labeled Bribes. She had seen these coins appear whenever Jean wanted to sleep somewhere other than a barn or outside on the ground for several days. She also knew only a very few marshals and generals bothered to compensate the people whose lives they disrupted or even thought to do so.

“Don’t wreck the place,” Compans ordered them after the Viennese family had bustled out the door, their personal belongings tied up in large, unwieldy bundles.

“Why would we?” she asked Joseph as two adjutants added more wood to a fire in the large stone hearth. She wondered how much food she might find in the kitchen cupboards and the spacious pantry leading from the kitchen. Indeed, the life expectancy of the well-fed hens she’d seen in the dooryard was measured in minutes.

“It was a pro forma reminder,” Joseph replied. “We’ve never been a horde of Vandals or Huns, and the marshal knows it.” He grinned at her and stretched so much that he almost slid out of his chair. “I can’t say the same about Prince Murat’s cavalry or anyone in Marshal Augereau’s VII Corps. Now there’s a collection of seasoned plunderers—as bad as one of the plagues of Egypt, but not, I think, as dedicated to looting as Marshal Masséna.”

Later that evening, with a cold November wind safely outside and warmth and food inside, she sipped her second cup of rich coffee laced with cream from the black and white cow standing up to her knees in hay in the barn. “After ages in Purgatory, I’ve been given my reward.”

“Savor your taste of Paradise, Gabriel, while you can. We’re leaving in a couple of days,” Jacques said, unhooking his cloak and shaking sleet from it.

“Why? The Austrians surrendered at Ulm almost four weeks ago, and we’re north of Vienna with no Austrians anywhere that I can see. There isn’t anyone to fight.”

Jacques poured coffee from a porcelain pot and backed up to the fire. “Don’t you read the dispatches, Gabriel?”

“Not often—they’re boring.”

“Well, you should. We hadn’t seen the Austrian army because it left Vienna right before we arrived. Now they’ve gone further north, with General Kutuzov’s Russians.”

“Who’s Kutuzov?” she asked, trying not to yawn in his face. She really should pay more attention to the dispatches and reports. If Jean ever asked her about the campaign's minutia, she had better know enough to answer. She’d seen what happened when an officer couldn’t tell Jean what he wanted to know and didn’t want to subject herself to the humiliation of a profanity-laced public rebuke.

“Some clever Russian general, older than God. He’s heading for Moravia, though, not Mother Russia.”

Mariana remembered Jacques’s words three days later. Ejected from the warm stone house before dawn, she bundled up in her heavy cloak and gloves and rode out of Vienna with the rest of V Corps. Now, close to midnight, she didn’t think Moravia was anywhere close or warmer than Russia. It was full dark when they rode into a tiny hamlet so small they would have missed it if the scouts and leading edges of Oudinot’s grenadiers hadn’t literally stumbled over it. Snow topped with a thin layer of rime covered the cottage roofs, garden walls, the rough pathway serving as a street, and stubble in the surrounding fields. The inhabitants had shuttered every window, but thin cracks of pale yellow light escaped from some of them.

“They’re more afraid of the Russians than they are of us,” Jean said in response to her question. Each word came out on a small puff of white, as her own had done. Soon it might be too cold to talk. “If you looked in those barns, you’d find nothing but old straw. There’s nothing of value in the cottages, either. If the villagers had enough warning, they would have hidden everything, and if not, the Russians have it all now.”

Mariana had never seen a hamlet this small before or so eerily deserted. The barrenness she saw in the faint snow light and that Jean had described made her shiver. This time the cold struck deep in her bones.

“We’ll be sleeping outside, gentlemen, on the other side of Hollabrünn and eating whatever we have with us. It will be a short night anyway—the enemy’s less than six miles ahead.” Jean spurred his horse forward over the little village track, and the rest followed, riding close enough to brush each other’s stirrups. Mariana wrapped the reins around one wrist and massaged her hands and fingers inside her gloves, afraid to take them off. The idea of trying to sleep on the frozen, iron-hard ground was dreadful. If the Russians were so close, and if Jean meant to attack them in the morning, she might as well sit up all night. If she didn’t freeze before dawn, then a brisk encounter with the enemy, even hand to hand, would warm her up nicely. “Aunt Lucrezia, you would be appalled,” she whispered through stiff lips cracked and bleeding from the cold.

Despite her plan to sit up all night, Mariana had just fallen asleep, curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up nearly beneath her chin, when Joseph shook her into befuddled wakefulness. “Get up, Gabriel,” he said, peeling her cloak away. We’re leaving now.”

She staggered to her feet, grabbed her cloak back from Joseph, and buttoned it up tight. “No breakfast?”

“No time for any. There’s a small Russian rear-guard ahead. We have to eliminate it before it reaches Kutuzov.”

Mariana didn’t mind not eating as much as she minded not having something hot to drink. However, the worst prospect was having to do the necessary at the edge of the forest to her left. She still thought it was manifestly unfair that lately, she nearly froze whenever she pissed, while her comrades did not. An inequality, however, that she was powerless to alter one whit.

Having concluded her business in the forest, she hurried to untie Odysseus from the picket line, tighten his girth, and climb into the saddle. She trotted off to join the aides, who waited in a nearly silent group, close together, their horses impatiently stamping the hard ground. Without a word, they swung around and fell in behind Jean and General Compans. She wanted to know how far away the Russian rear-guard was and how many Russians comprised a rear-guard, but she couldn’t make her lips move.

General Thomières saved her the trouble. “Excellency, how many troops does Bagration have ahead of us?”

While she wondered who Bagration was, Jean slowed his horse to respond to his senior aide. “Fewer than I have, even though I’m short two divisions and even shorter of supplies. Neither the weather nor the ground is good for much but a short skirmish.”

The air was so silent and frigid that Mariana heard the intonation beneath his words that often meant more than the words themselves. He sounded confident rather than cocky or foolhardy. A short skirmish, he’d said, and that was fine with her.

The encounter between Bagration’s rear-guard and V Corps’ grenadiers, reinforced at the last possible moment by a squadron of Murat’s heavy cavalry, was not a skirmish. Mariana thought it was more like a brawl in some wayside tavern, loud, fast, and disorganized. It ended before she’d had a chance to do anything and because Bagration told Prince Murat that he had just learned about a truce. The prince believed him, dismounted, told Jean to order his troops to cease fire, and went inside a slightly shell-shocked villa that had been some Moravian aristocrat’s summer home.

“A truce? What the fuck is he talking about? I had the damn Russians on their arses, and he rides in and orders me to stop!” Jean was livid, his expression as hard as granite. Mariana worried what he might do when he jumped from his horse, leaving the reins to trail in the snow, and stomped after Murat. Acting on instinct, aides, chief of staff, and a few senior adjutants closed around him like a protective wall and entered the villa together.

Intended for soft summer breezes, the villa struggled to combat the mid-November cold. Fires burned in hearths at either end of the reception chamber’s black and white tiled floor. Clear glass bottles filled with colorless liquid stood among scores of crystal glasses on heavily carved tables in the center of the room. Someone had shoved chairs and settees against the walls. Officers in uniforms Mariana had never seen before crowded around the tables, opening bottles, pouring liquid into glasses, and handing them around. She watched Prince Murat take a sip, then drain it and hold it out for someone to fill. She watched Jean barrel forward, his expression still thunderous, until a tall officer with the face of a young eagle and enough medals on his chest to blind half a dozen men stepped forward and intercepted him. Together they moved away from Murat and his entourage and stood by one of the double windows, heads bent close together, talking. Another officer approached them, two glasses on a silver tray, and quickly left when they took the glasses and continued their conversation. When Major Guéhéneuc tried to insinuate himself into the conversation, Jean turned on him like an enraged wasp. The major scuttled away, staring at the floor, his face scarlet. Mariana rocked back on her boot heels, a smirk spreading across her face.

As voices rose around her, followed by the rank odor of damp wool and unwashed males, Mariana felt the beginnings of a headache. To take her mind off it, she asked Thomières, “What are they talking about? And who is that Russian?”

He laughed, a soft sound but not derisive. She was glad since she rarely spoke to him at length. “I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but that’s Prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration the marshal’s talking to.” He laughed again, this time even softer as if he worried someone might overhear. “Talking now, fighting later. Fine looking general, though, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he is,” Mariana said. With his chiseled features and thick, dark hair, the tall, slender Russian looked a little like Jean. Big rooster and bantam rooster, she thought, and almost hooted with laughter. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “What’s in the bottles?”

“Vodka. Have you never tasted it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Then allow me, lieutenant,” Thomières said and escorted her to the nearest table. Rummaging among the glasses, he found two relatively clean ones and filled them from one of the bottles. “Salut,” he said, threw back his head, and drank it down.

She sniffed at the clear liquid. It had no odor. Since Thomières was still standing, how dangerous could it be? She drank hers in a single gulp, and the alcohol burned all the way to her stomach, where it exploded. Tears flooded her eyes, she sneezed and then coughed. One cough led to several until Thomières pounded her on the back and filled her glass.

“Quick—drink this.”

She did and stopped coughing. This time the vodka felt smooth as silk, and she grinned at the senior aide. “You should have warned me.”

“And miss your reaction?” He filled her glass for the third time, but before she could drink it, four Russian officers joined them at the table, clutching their glasses filled to the brim and sloshing onto their dingy white gloves. Their faces were clean-shaven except for amazingly full side-whiskers, their cheeks brick red in the candlelight. Raising their glasses, they shouted in unison, “Za vashe zdorovye!” When they had downed every last drop, they tossed their glasses toward the fireplace. The sound of shattering crystal brought to a halt every conversation in the spacious room, and then other Russians began throwing their empty glasses to the floor.

“Why not?” Thomières said and threw his glass toward the hearth.

“Indeed!” Mariana replied and threw hers, too.

Whatever Jean and Bagration may have been discussing, or whatever Prince Murat may have believed about the alleged truce, or whatever the French and Russian officers thought about the prospect of imminent hostilities between them, everything disappeared beneath the sharp-edged sound of crystal shattering and the roars of toasts in French and Russian. Mariana linked arms with Thomières to keep from reeling and tried to get her tongue around the consonant-laden Russian words. Somehow, they sounded more satisfactory than light, polite French phrases and better suited to the vodka, of which she had become quite fond in no time at all.

Jean summoned aides and staff officers with a sharp whistle that penetrated the merriment and stalked out of the villa and into the icy, starlit night. The sudden cold jolted Mariana from her torpor, and the sharp air stung her eyes and nose. Her comrades showed similar symptoms of waking from a muddled sleep, and she wondered what might have happened had they stayed and emptied all those bottles.

#prince bagration #vodkatime #Jean Lannes

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frostsinth · 4 years

Text

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 1

*bangs head against wall* .... Soooo I should be working on my ‘Deals with Demons’ Story. Or maybe on some of the art I have around. But I just COULD NOT get this idea to leave me alone until I started writing it down.

Slow burn, sfw, Orc x F. Human. Back to my roots. I hope you like it! I’ve got a great surprise in mind for this one. :DDD

MasterList

The first time I saw him, I thought a storm cloud had passed over the sun. The light streaming in from my window was suddenly snuffed out, and I looked up from my place behind the counter in surprise.

He was so big, even looking directly at him I still couldn’t quite make sense of what I was seeing. His torso filled the window frame from edge to edge, and I even squinted my eyes trying to figure out exactly what was going on. With a huff, I bustled over to the door, opening it with my shoulder.

“Excuse me!” I said, exasperated, placing my hands on my hips and looking up.

And up. And up. And up a little more, until the base of my skull was nearly flat against my back. The man before me must have been well over seven feet tall, with a body that looked more like the broad side of a barn than anything a living person could possess. He wore thick knotted and worn leather armor over his broad chest and legs, with a wide belt probably almost as big as I was. Each leg was as big as a tree trunk, and his arms bulged with muscles. His skin was a dark, washed out green that looked more grey in the shadows of his huge body and he had thick, messy black hair pooling about his shoulders and down his back. He had an equally messy scruff of the coarse black hair on his jaw and cheeks and down his neck, with two thin little braids dangling from the point of his chin. I snapped my open mouth back shut once I had fully assessed him, and cleared my throat noisily. It was rude to gawk.

“Excuse me!” I said again, louder this time.

At first, he hadn’t noticed me. Even when I had spoken. He seemed to be drawing big, deep wuffs of air in through his broad, flat nose nestled in between two massive tusks. A smaller set rested near the base of the first, and his thick bottom lip wobbled a bit as he turned to face me when I spoke a second time. He had to drop his chin to his chest to look at me directly, and one big, bushy eyebrow raised up. Perhaps it was surprise there, I wasn’t sure. I wondered how often tiny humans addressed the behemoth without preamble.

I jerked my head at the window. “You’re blocking my shop!” I told him, not perturbed in the least by his size.

His large, slate blue eyes rolled to look to where I had gestured. I saw them skim over the sign, perhaps even study what could be seen beyond the window. One big meaty hand came up and rested on the huge ax at his hip and he gave a deep grunt. I sighed, shaking my head slightly. Apparently I wasn’t going to get through to him with subtleties. I didn’t recognize him as one of the regular orcs that ambled through town occasionally. Perhaps he was new.

“I can’t see anything with you standing there. You block out the sun!” I explained, but gave him a friendly smile none-the-less. “You lost? Looking for something in particular?”

He still didn’t answer, dropping his hand and giving another mighty wuff with his nose. I saw his nostrils twitch, then his heavy brow furrowed a little. I decided he looked intrigued, and my grin grew by a few more inches.

“Ah! You’re hungry!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “You have a good nose, sir, that you do! I’ve got a fresh pig on the spit and a fair large sampling from the last one on salt!” I turned, shoving the old creaky door to my shop open. “Come in! Come in! I’ll get you a sample! I’m sure you’ll love it.”

I stepped inside and held open the door behind me. The big orc paused, frowning deeply. His slate eyes ran over me, sizing my stout little 5’4” frame from head to toe. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but had already decided it didn’t seem remotely aggressive. I gave him another warm smile, waving him in.

With a shrug of his big, meaty shoulders, he ducked his head and scrunched up his bulk. Following me into my little butcher shop. I squeezed against the wall to be sure to make space for him, letting the door close on its own squeaky hinges and bustling back over to the counter. Once inside, he was able to stretch out a little, thanks in part to the high rafters and wide support beams. I saw him looking about when I glanced over my shoulder. I had a few pheasants hanging on the wall, and a good mess of rabbits and squirrels waiting to be skinned and prepped from the hunter who had come by that morning. On the opposite side, I had stag horns mounted for display, amid shallow bins of salted fish already smoke dried and waiting for sale. My jerky I kept at the counter, to avoid sticky hands grabbing at it when I wasn’t looking. A fresh roast sat on the cutting board alongside my favorite knife. It also happened to be my only good carving knife at the moment. There were some lamb chops on the low burning fire in the corner by the counter, and a few dripping cow haunches smoking overhead.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, making my way over to the counter. The orc was eyeing the lamb, and I saw his nose twitch again. I shook my head, waving him to the barrels that I used as makeshift tables in the back and pulling some of the salted pork from another near me.

“It smells good, but trust me, it’ll be a tough chew!” I told him, sighing as I brought the pork to the counter. I picked up the carving knife and easily shaved off a few sample pieces, placing them on a smoothed piece of wood. “Old man Carver was near desperate, selling off those scraggily little things. Barely any good meat on them! If I manage to slow roast them properly, I might just make them passable for food.”

I followed him over to the opposite corner with my little platter and set it on the barrel. He looked down at it, and I saw him lick his lips. I smiled up at him again, placing my hands on my hips again.

“But you look like a traveller! The salted pork keeps well, and you won’t find better flavor, I can promise you.” I assured him, bustling over to the small keg I kept by the water trough. “I’ll give you a good price if you like that; and I’ve got beef jerky and fish besides if you’d like to add some variety! Let me get you some ale to wash it down.”

Just as I was pulling down one of the cracked old mugs from the shelf, the door of the shop banged back open. I jumped at the loud sound, spinning about. I felt suddenly cold and my heart sank through my chest at the far too familiar sight.

The gnarled looking man gave me a gap toothed grin, sauntering in with his two mates behind him. He was not very tall, but fit as an old war dog with a scratchy beard and lopsided ears to match. His leathery skin was wrinkled from a life sleeping outdoors and working in the sun, and I swore a few flies always seemed to cling to him like he was shit haven. He grabbed his scruffy, beaten cap off his head, mashing it between dirty, calloused hands. His men spread out, effectively cornering me as their leader came over.

“”Ello again, lil lass,” Grinned the ruffian, tucking his hands behind his head to stretch out his lean chest beneath his filthy tunic. “Ye pourin’ us a drink? How ver’ thoughtful.”

“What do you want Erlif?” I pressed in a soft voice, hoping it wasn’t shaking as much as my knees beneath my skirts.

“Ye got yer taxes ready?” Erlif replied, sauntering even closer.

I quickly backed away, until my backside bumped into the counter. “I already paid you this month.” I told him breathlessly, nervously brushing my hands down the front of my apron.

His front tooth wiggled a little when he sucked in his breath, shaking his head. “Well, ya see lass, that was yer father’s tax. An’ we charge different by the head, ya kno’.”

I stiffened at the mention of my father, and my lips tightened. Erlif laughed, tucking his thumbs into his belt. He took a few more long strides, closing the gap between us.

“But dun ya worry, lass,” His grin had returned, and his calloused hand snapped out, snatching the mug from my hands. He seemed amused at my tiny gasp, and leaned closer. “I ‘ave another way ya can pay yer taxes if yer a lil’ short.”

There was the soft scraping sound of wood against wood, and Erlif’s companions shot an angry eye over to my sole patron; they must not have noticed him when they first came in. He had been tucked into the shadows of the back corner, but now he straightened to his full height, head nearly scraping the rafters. As they took him in, I saw the blood drain from their faces. They even took a nervous step back, eyes going wide. One frantically began shaking Erlif’s shoulder, still staring as the big orc took one menacing step closer. Unwilling to tear their eyes away.

“Waht, ye-?” The rogue’s angry words jerked to a stop with a small hiccup in his throat as he turned.

I thought his eyes might pop out of his sockets. His jaw dropped open and I saw that loose tooth dangle dangerously. He even dropped the cup in his hands, and it clattered loudly in the sudden silence in the shop. I found myself tickled at the sight, and almost smiled. The sound seemed to break the sudden terror that had settled upon the trio. His two companions didn’t waste another moment, quickly spinning on heel and darting out the door so fast one smashed his shoulder on the way out.

“S-sorry! Sorry!” Stammered Erlif, backing towards the door as well. He quickly smashed the cap back on his head, clutching his hands before him and hunching his shoulders anxiously. “P-please forgive me.”

Then he too spun and bolted. I stared after them, surprised. I had never seen that stubborn old thief move so fast or back down so easily. But a grin quickly returned to my face. I laughed, shaking off the last of my nerves. I ran one still trembling hand through my hair and turned back to the orc.

“Well, you certainly come in handy, don’t you?” I was still smiling as I bent to pick up the mug the lowlife bastard had dropped.

The orc turned his slate gaze back to me, and one thick brow twitched up again. His meaty hand was still on the head of his ax, and I supposed he might look quite imposing. Standing there with his huge frame filling the tiny shop and his hair a thick black shadow around his shoulders. But I was surprised to find it didn’t particularly bother me. I laughed again, looking down at the mug in my hand.

“I can’t serve you that piss poor excuse for ale after that. Come out back, and let me get you a real meal.” I looked back up at him, “As a thank you.”

He gave another deep grunt, shaking his huge head. He even started to open his mouth but I raised my hand to silence him.

“No sir, I won’t let you accept anything less. It’s the least I can do.” I moved over, shouldering the shop door firmly closed and sliding the mostly broken latch in place before turning to the door at the back behind the counter. “Come on then.” I told him, placing the mug on the counter. I didn’t wait to see if he was following me, slipping out the open back door.

Behind the shop was a tiny, open aired square, which is where I kept most of my in-progress work. It was nestled between the clay and wood walls of the tiny shop front and the little one room building set behind the tavern that had been my home for as long as I could remember. The two buildings were almost perpendicular to each other, making the square yard uneven. Alongside the largest wall, there was a good sized cow skinned and hoisted by its hind legs, and three great spits over a coal burning fire off to one side of the courtyard. Fats sizzled in the hot stones, dripping off the two pigs I had roasting there. The third spit had four whole chickens sizzling, and as I passed by I inspected the meat’s progress with a practiced eye. There was a small shambling stable on the opposite side, with a half stone wall in disrepair on the outside facing the main square. It was currently empty; I’d had to sell the old horse to manage rent last month, and the chickens were now on the spit. The wall beside my homemade smoke pits had a large wooden gate set into it to allow carriages and fresh product to be brought in. It was hanging off its hinges and had more holes than wood, but it managed to do the job still. There was a small pile of scrap wood and nails leaning on the wall. My father had intended to make repairs before he had passed, but I didn’t have any time or ability to even think to make the same attempt.

I half expected the man not to have followed me. He had certainly seemed reluctant at best. But when I glanced over my shoulder, he was there, looking around. I smiled cheerily when his gaze settled on me again, and jerked my head towards the door to my place. Again, I didn’t wait, making my way over. I had to put most of my strength into heaving the ancient door open, and gave a little grunt to emphasize the effort. The door complained loudly at the abuse, scraping heavily along the dirt floor.

“Make yourself at home.” I told him, quickly moving a pile of furs off the table and bench in the center of the room.

I dropped them onto my bed in the corner, then bustled over to the water bucket against the back wall. The house was wide, with the same high post ceilings as the shop. At one time, this had been the storage room and the main house had been the small tavern at the back. But I couldn’t remember a time when my family had owned both. Due to its original intent, there were no windows to speak of, save for a makeshift opening in the roof with a trap door made from a barrel lid propped over the top. I didn’t mind. I had hung herbs and various plants to dry amid the rafters, and the worst of the hot air filtered out through the trap hole in the roof. I lifted the old worn pitcher full of wildflowers to run a damp cloth underneath it over the worn, patched wood of the table, smiling as I saw the orc manage his last hurdle and scrunch through my tiny front door. I gestured to the bench, replacing the pitcher and turning to drop the cloth back in the water and open the tiny larder in the corner by the little stove. I had set a few big barrels alongside the little clay stove, and my sole tin pot waited on top of one. I pulled out a large helping of cheese, and an old bottle of wine, bringing both over to set at the table.

“Here, something to wet your pallet while I get a good chunk off the pig on the spit.” I told him, smiling again as he slowly eased himself onto the bench.

It groaned beneath his weight, and I worried it might not hold. But the old wood managed, and I sighed with relief. I hummed quietly to myself as I took the cloth off the basket of bread I had made that morning, picking the crispiest roll to bring to the table.

I took up a plate and ducked back out the door to the pits in the back. I considered the pair, poking one thoughtfully before tearing off most of one haunch to plate. I brought it back in, still humming to myself, and wiped the juices off my hands as I set it before him.

“You’ll have to tell me what you think,” I told him, “You can be my taster! Let me know if you think it needs a bit more vinegar, or maybe another few hours on the spit.”

The burly orc looked over the simple spread in front of him, then at me. Then back down. I noticed his thick, bushy brows were still raised as he gingerly reached out, ripping off a small piece of the pig. As if he was surprised. I wondered how often people treated the big guy just like anyone else. At least without getting to know him first, as he seemed a nice enough sort. He brought the dripping morsel of meat to his big mouth, feeding it slowly between his tusks almost hesitantly. As if worried it was rotten. His eyes widened with delight as his teeth worked at the meat, and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly.

“It’s good.” He rumbled, sounding pleased.

It was the first time I had heard him speak, I realized. His voice was as deep and heavy as a boulder, and seemed befitting to his huge body. The big orc hunched over with his elbows on the table and began to dig into the haunch. He dwarfed the old beaten table, which would have comfortably sat at least four humans. This close to him, I could see a deep scar over one cheek, and a notch missing from his ear as well as a few flat iron rings in the remaining cartilage. His armor covered the cap of his shoulders, but his big muscular arms were also dotted with scars. I could see his meaty hands looked rough. Likely a laborer, I decided. Especially due to the shape of his body; more square than triangular.

“I’m Madara, by the way,” I told him, sitting at the bench opposite. He glanced back at me as he took up the roll and tore off a piece.

“Hanste’kosh.” He grunted, his slate blue eyes studying me. He looked down at his plate, then over at me again. One big meaty hand shoved it closer. “Eat.”

“Has.. Hanshet… Hankos…” I tried, fumbling over the long name. I reached over and peeled off a little of the pork, bringing it slowly to my mouth.

“Hanste’kosh.” He repeated, his voice rumbling in his chest like thunder over the mountainside.

I laughed, shaking my head as I chewed. “I’m sorry. That’s quite the mouthful!” He grunted, taking a larger bite of the pork and draining back a fourth of the bottle of wine. “Would it be alright if I called you Hans?”

His eyes turned to settle on me again. Seeming to really take me in. I tucked back a loose strand of hand hesitantly behind one ear under his scrutiny. I wondered what he was thinking. The deep scrunch of his brows made me think he might be questioning my motives, or wondering if I was making fun of him. I was certain most humans didn’t treat strange orcs nearly so nicely as I. But they had never bothered me. In fact, I found their blunt, straight to the point manners rather refreshing from most human’s passive aggressive behaviors. Preferable even. Finally, he shrugged his big shoulders, pulling the wedge of cheese over to himself and breaking it into pieces.

“Sure, why not.” He sounded almost amused, but it was hard to tell from the rolling timbre of his voice.

I smiled cheerily at him, tearing a small piece from the bread. “You can call me Maddie, if you’d like.”

He looked up at me from his hunched position, considering me again through long dark lashes. He chewed slowly for a moment, working his square jaw back and forth almost thoughtfully. I tilted my head to the side, curious but knowing better than to pry.

“Those men,” He began, his thick tongue snaking out to clear his lips, “They bother you much?”

I hesitated, and my face must have fallen a little, because I saw a scowl settle on his features. I quickly raised my hands and shook my head.

“Don’t worry about me. I don’t want any trouble started on my behalf.” I smiled at him, my eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can manage.”

He gave a long, deep ‘hmmm’. But returned to his meal without further comment. I watched him eating quietly for a moment, propping my elbow on the table and resting my cheek in my palm. I decided he was probably younger than he looked underneath all that hair. I wondered the last time he had given it a good wash and comb. Perhaps I might find someone not much older than myself if he did. I suddenly longed to take a stab at it myself, and moved to cupped my twitching hands on my lap under the table.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” I mused, “Are you just passing through? Or do you have business here?”

He licked the juice dribbling down his chops.

“Business.” He replied, sucking the last of the flavor off his thumb.

I smiled. “Well, you are certainly welcome back anytime... Hans.”

He grunted again, flicking his tangled black locks over his shoulder. He flexed his arms, stretching out a little before giving a sizable snort.

“I should be going.”

I jumped up, smoothing down the front of my apron. “Of course! I don’t mean to keep you.” I craned my head back to look up at him as he slowly stood. “Thank you for everything.”

A non-committal grumble answered me this time, and he turned, making his way out the door. As he ducked his head back into the shop, I scuttled after him, heading over to my stock of jerky.

“Perhaps I can pack you something for the road.”

He shook his big head, his meaty hands shuffling about his belt. “I’ve enough.”

I looked up right as he dropped a small pouch on the counter. It clinked as it hit the wood. I started to open my mouth, straightening from behind the counter. But he was already making his way out.

“Hey, wait!” I cried belatedly, still in a little shock.

Hans already had ripped open the stubborn door with a single flex of his big arm. I thought I heard the sound of wood splintering, but didn’t fully have time to register. I took up the bag, rushing out to the marketplace square.

Despite his size, or perhaps because of his long stride, the orc moved fast. Before I had time to even make it to the doorway, he was already halfway across the square. The people seemed to give him a wide berth, shooting whispers under their breath and glancing sidelong at the behemoth orc. It made me glad that I had invited him in; it must be tough to have people instantly judge you so harshly. But then I merely sighed, slumping my shoulders slightly. The tiny bag of gold coins felt strangely heavy in my hand, and I looked down at it. I gripped my fingers about it more tightly, then turned and made my way back into the shop.

...

Hanste’kosh was nearly to the outskirts of town by the time his lieutenant caught up to him. The smaller orc smacked a fist across his chest respectfully.

“Hey boss. Where’ve you been?”

He scowled at him, heavy brow knotted ferociously, making his second wince and take a wary step back. He put up his palms, patting the air as if trying to smooth over the situation. Hanste’kosh flexed his mighty shoulders, as if he meant to take a swing at the other man. His armor creaked in protest. Ready to remind him how disrespectful it was to pry.

“Sorry boss.” He mumbled, dropping his gaze. “Everything’s ready if you are.”

Giving a snort, the larger orc nodded. “Good.” He turned to make his way to the rendezvous point, but then paused, his heavy brow squinting. “Bar’tok, I have another job for you.”

...

UPDATE: Part Two HERE

#orc #orc lover #orc boyfriend #orc x human #slow burn #romance #dnd #terato #exophilia #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x human #the secret we keep

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dobsmoneylake · 3 years

Note

Egbert the Wingman on his latest attempt at atonement. You pick the couple he decides to "help". Bonus points for Seal Giamen cameo

Thank you so much for the prompt!!! I hope that you enjoy it!!

This is unbeta'd because I feel like dying like a man today. Also, I don't own any of it.

The day started out just as any other. Egbert woke to the waves rocking the boat, the smell of gunpowder, and a large seal angrily bomfing at him because it was breakfast time. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing the seal away from him and rolling out of the bed. “Good morning to you too.”

Seal Gaiman just stared at him with a stern expression on his face before bomfing again and making his way to the door.

“Alright, let’s see what we can ‘borrow’ from Corazón this time,” Egbert said, making his way out of the door.

“Egbert, are you talking to that dumb seal again?” Corazón said, making his way out from below deck, “I thought we’d talked about this.”

“You let Merilwen talk to animals all the time!”

Corazón rolled his eyes. “Merilwen uses magic to talk to animals. If you were doing that, it wouldn’t be weird,” he made his way to the ladder that led above deck, “I just refreshed the larder with pickles. Make sure to keep the seal out of them.”

“Sure thing,” Egbert said with an agreeable smile. He waited until Corazón had made his way up to the top of the deck before turning to look back at the now disappeared Seal Gaiman. “Come on, mate, where are you at?”

A series of seal noises and a clutter led to the seal curled up in said barrel of pickles.

“Come on, Corazón told us to stay out of there!” When the seal steadfastly refused to move, Egbert shook his head. “Well, I’m not helping you out this time!”

Making his way upstairs, Egbert passed Prudence’s door (there was no mysterious humming and chanting coming from within this morning) and nearly ran into Dob, who was standing with Meril-cat on his shoulders.

“Oh, there you are, Egbert,” Dob said happily. “I’m supposed to tell you that we are going to spend the day in town and then we will be leaving this evening. Corazón says ‘don’t be late, but also, I don’t want to see you lot for the rest of the day. Captain’s orders!’” He smiled brightly.

“Sounds good, what do you want to do then?”

Dob shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry Egbert, but I promised Merilwen I’d spend the day with her. We’re going to see how many taverns will adopt her as a bar cat!” Said cat was still resting imperiously on his shoulder.

“Ah, okay. Well, I guess that I can use this time to check in with La Vache Mauve.”

“Sounds good to me, buddy,” Dob said, before leaving the ship with the cat on his shoulder.

Left alone on the main deck, Egbert shifted uncomfortably. It had been a while since he had the silence he needed to talk to the cow. On the other hand, silence was still silence. And if there was one thing Egbert knew, it was that all silence existed to be wonderfully broken.

As he was thinking this, the sun appeared to glow a little bit purple. Looking at it longer, Egbert watched as it slowly turned, revealing the purple cow that he followed.

“La Vache Mauve!” He exclaimed happily.

“Yes, child,” the cow replied. “Now, I see that you have been making steps toward atonement.”

“I try,” he responded dutifully, “It’s slow going, though. It’s not easy, you know!”

“The path to make up for our past mistakes is never easy, young one,” the image in the sky shifted to look stern, “But if we are not able to walk it when the road is tough, we are not really walking it at all.”

Egbert took a slow breath, pondering that. “I think I understand,” he said. “I will continue to walk the path, even when it is tough.”

Countenance shifting into a please expression, La Vache Mauve went on, “As it is, it is time for you to take the next step in your journey. Two of your companions are struggling to be true to themselves and each other. You must help them take the next step they need toward truth.”

Egbert nodded. That sounded doable. “Which of my two companions are you talking about?” He asked.

“That is something you already know, you must think about it and go from there,” with a moo, the sun had turned again, and Egbert was left on the boat alone.

That didn’t last long as he grabbed his trusty mace and bombs and leapt over the side of the boat. La Vache Mauve may not have said who he was supposed to help, but if there were a liar in the group that he traveled with, it was definitely Corazón De Ballena, and Egbert had a feeling that where he found Corazón, he would find the other member being untruthful to themselves.

Sure enough, as he turned around the corner, he had to stop suddenly so as to not draw the attention of the pirate. Corazón was at one of the stalls of artisanal meats, but instead of looking at the wares, he was standing behind one of the barrels and staring across the market. Confused, Egbert followed his gaze . . . oh.

Standing at a shop and looking at various baubles was none other than Prudence. She didn’t seem to notice either of them, and as Egbert watched, she selected a bauble and brought it to the counter, leaning in to touch the shop keeper’s arm and laughing at what he said. After some words were exchanged, she paid for the bauble with some coin and turned around, letting a smirk show off her face. She then walked out of the market area confidently, seemingly still not noticing the two people watching her.

Egbert turned to look back at Corazón, who was still looking at the stall Prudence had been sitting at with a pinched expression and his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Suddenly, he strode off, following her path into the next area and leaving Egbert alone.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Egbert thought. Dob had mentioned thinking that Corazón may have stronger feelings for Prudence than he was letting on. The two were close, and if there was one thing Prudence did lie about, it was her emotions. Standing, straighter, Egbert resolutely followed them.

Operation: Gain Atonement By Hooking Up Your Teammates was on.

***************

As Egbert strode into the next area, he was immediately grateful that it was busy. It allowed him to blend into the crowd better. Unfortunately, it also allowed Corazón to blend into the crowd better, which meant that he was still able to tail Prudence as she went on her shopping spree, this time entering an antique shop. This had to stop.

Filled with a spurt of inspiration, Egbert wandered into a more secluded area and started casting “Find Steed.” 10 minutes later, he had a dog and a Prudence was coming back out of the antique shop.

“Hey there, boy,” he said, leaning down to pet the dog. “I need you to cause a commotion and bring Prudence and Corazón together, okay?”

With a quick bark, the dog went off to do as he commanded, running into the middle of the crowd and howling before growling and leaping up on the counter by where Corazón was hiding, grabbing a piece of meat off of it and jumping down. Shaking his head, the Dogbert threw the meat in Corazón’s direction, causing him to dodge out of the way . . . and into one of the barrels that sat outside of the stall, just as Prudence walked into a nearby tavern.

Dogbert sat back and looked at Corazón, who was now sprawled against one of the barrels, before coming back and sitting down at Egbert’s feet.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Egbert said, reaching down to pet his head. “Good boy.”

A few minutes later, Corazón had recovered from his spill and made his way into the tavern. Egbert followed him inside, deciding that he could always pretend to be a dragonborn gargoyle if it looked like he was about to be spotted.

It turns out that this was unnecessary, as Corazón had taken a seat at the bar and was drawing all the attention to himself. Well, “taking a seat” wasn’t the best description of what was going on-- more like he had sprawled himself against the bar and was loudly describing his recent “heroic adventures.” Somehow, the slight scratches he bore from crashing into the barrel had turned into scars he had received tumbling through cliffs while being chased by a villainous beast, which he had of course managed to trick and then slay without any further harm to himself.

The worst part was that it appeared that the people in this tavern were utter fools. A group of men (more like boys, really, they clearly had never left the town) were listening, egging him on. And there were women (again, more like girls) who were seated next to him, saying things like “that must have been so scary” and “wow, you are so brave!”

As Egbert himself sat down at one of the seats near the main aisle, he spotted Prudence, who was seated in a shadowed corner and seemed to be drinking her ale very fast. She was clenching the tankard she was holding so tight her knuckles were red, and her whole body had gone stiff, much like a very unhappy cat. She also kept shooting furtive looks in Corazón’s direction before looking back at the table in front of her.

All of a sudden, there was a commotion from the bar as Corazón stood up, loudly announcing, “And now I will show you how I, Corazón De Ballena, master swordsman, took down the fierce monsters!” He shuffled his feet into a fencing pose and held out his hands as if he was holding a rapier, quickly moving through the motions of the supposed fight. Nearby, the girls around him gasped and giggled in glee.

As Corazón got closer and closer to him (and Prudence), Egbert saw his chance and subtly stuck out his foot. The pirate, so focused on his performance, didn’t notice, and sure enough, he tripped, flailing wildly before stumbling over and tripping on another chair leg. Through an impressive series of events that only could have happened because a cow was watching over them, Corazón stumbled and tripped through the tavern, before finally landing square in Prudence’s lap.

Immediately, both of them froze, locking wide eyes. Indeed, they were not the only ones frozen, as the whole tavern went silent.

Then Prudence roughly shoved Corazón off of her, causing him to roll on the floor and land on his back. “I hope you fight monsters better than you fight the empty air,” she taunted before making her way out of the room.

Propping himself up on his arms, Corazón watched her leave before suddenly jumping up, standing like a peacock. “Alright, which one of you pushed me?” He demanded, “That is unacceptable, and I will have my vengeance!!”

Egbert was already gone.

***********

As he left the tavern, Egbert looked around wildly before realizing that Prudence had successfully escaped into the crowd. Even though it should be easy to find a ruby red tiefling among all of the people, she was nowhere to be seen.

As he was thinking this, Corazón walked out of the tavern and looked around before deflating. Noticing Egbert, he walked up to him. “Where’s Prudence?” He demanded.

“Why should I know?” Egbert asked.

“You were OUT HERE, Egbert! It doesn’t seem hard to keep track of her when you can see where she’s gone!”

Egbert shrugged. “Sorry, I was too busy trying to pick out a new barrel of pickles.”

“I can’t believe you let the seal into my pickles and you lost Prudence! I’m going to get drunk, and I don’t want to see any of you until later on!” He stormed back into the tavern.

Egbert sighed and fought the urge to bury his head in his face. There went his chance at atonement.

As he was thinking that, the sun seemed to shift and La Vache Mauve appeared in it yet again. “Well done, my child.”

“What are you talking about?” Egbert kicked a rock. “I failed. They didn’t reveal any truths to each other.”

“Remember that in life, every step made on the journey is a valuable one,” came the reply. “This is a lesson that is relevant to their story as well as to yours. Atonement, like truth, will only come once you’ve waited.” Before Egbert could say anything in reply, the cow had disappeared again.

“Well, that’s deeply unhelpful,” Egbert said to himself before setting out to find some pickles.

*****************

Later that evening, all was quiet on The Joyful Damnation. Dob and Merilwen had come back to the ship laughing gleefully about having turned her into the best tavern cat ever. Egbert had removed Seal Gaiman from the pickle bucket and had retired to bed, trying to find peace from the day. Prudence had returned to the ship before the others and had retired to her quarters for some rest. And Corazón made his way back last, stumbling aboard the ship and making his way to the captain’s quarters.

As he walked inside, he started unbuttoning his top, preparing to sleep, before sensing something off about the room. Looking side to side, he didn’t see anything-- until he looked up and saw the familiar glowing eyes of the party’s tiefling.

If asked, Corazón would tell you that he always responded to things in the most epic and dignified manner ever. In actuality, he jumped back in shock and let out a series of impressive swear words. Taking a few breaths and clutching his chest in shock, he finally managed to get a few words. “What are you doing in here?” He demanded. “I thought we agreed Captain’s Quarters were off limits!! And that you shouldn’t Spider Climb on my ship!!”

“You said that; I pretended to listen,” Prudence shrugged, dropping down from ceiling onto the floor. “And I’m here because as stupid as you and your stories are, those scratches are fresh and you’ll probably let them get infected and then I’ll have to hear you complain about it. So I’m going to clean them out for you.”

Corazón blustered. “I don’t need your help, Prudence! As the captain and leader of this ship, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself! In fact, I should be helping you!”

“Uh huh,” Prudence said, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him onto the bed before grabbing one of his arms and examining it. “You have splinters in here, by the way.” Her touch was gentle as she set about removing them and cleaning the scratches.

Corazón froze for a few minutes, staring out of the wall but watching her out of the corner of his eye. When she didn’t make any motion to look anywhere other than his arm, he relaxed, but he continued to pointedly not watch her. “It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

“It never is with you,” Prudence responded matter-of-factly, dropping the arm she was looking at and picking up the other one. “It doesn’t look like these will need bandaging, but it also means they won’t scar, so you won’t get to impress girls with them much longer.”

“So you admit they’re impressive?” He puffed out his chest.

“They could be considered impressive if I didn’t see you roll straight into a barrel of salt trying to avoid a puppy,” she corrected him, raising an eyebrow and meeting his eyes.

“It was bigger than a puppy. It was a real beast, Prudence, I was just protecting the townspeople,” Corazón flushed.

“Ah yes, I got to see your prowess up close and personal in the tavern,” she remarked wryly, smirking as his face went redder. “Somebody sure was clumsy today, weren’t they?”

“Clumsy? I am never clumsy, I am the epitome of grace and dexterity at all times . . . OW!”

Holding up the splinter she had taken out mid rant, Prudence raised her eyebrow. “Truly, you’re the most impressive man I know,” she said before chuckling and dropping his hand. “Well, I think you can handle yourself from here.” As she left, she stopped to look at him. “Sleep well, Corazón,” and she slipped out of the room.

Watching her leave, Corazón shook his head and ran his fingers over his arm gently before laying down and falling into a peaceful slumber.

Watching overhead, La Vache Mauve smiled.

#oxventure #egbert the careless #demon pirate #corazon/prudence #prudence #corazon #I hope that you enjoy this!#Sorry it took a bit #It kind of got out of hand and turned into a decent size story #fic #i wrote this

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Twenty Years Separated and Getting Divorced

Notes:

This is inspired by Sweet Home Alabama, with Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas.

Plot: After 20 years you finally come back to the town you grew up in, which is now basically non-existent except for a couple ghost buildings and wild cows to find your husband and his family, who are the only ones crazy enough to still live there, and get your fucking divorce finalised.

Warnings: Swearing, divorce?

~~~

Hoyt sees me strolling up to the house before I even reach the porch. Our eyes meet, a short moment of nostalgia passes quickly- and World War 3 begins.

“Well, hi to you too! Just fabulous to see you, after… half a goddamn century.” Charlie gets up from his seat on the porch and now stands up to 5 feet taller than me… because he’s still on the god forsaken porch and I’m the ground. Goddamn, his ego’s still as big as that ridiculous hat that he’s wearing now. Since when is he sheriff? He didn’t even go to college- I know; I’ve been married to him since we were 18. “Fucking city slicker.”

My jaw falls open. City slicker?? “You know damn well I grew up right here, you two-bit drama queen. And I live in Alice Springs now. Maybe it ain’t your country but it is still butt crack nowhere, you old fucking coot!” After a second, I also say. “And I’m not even 50 years old yet, you asshole!”

“Pft.” He chews on something in his mouth, maybe his cheek, and sets his jaw. “You lived here, what? 20 years ago then? If you wanna get specific about it.” Okay, that’s better, more accurate at least, but I could’ve done without the attitude. “You lived somewhere else more than half your life- don’t go gettin’ excited and acting like you’re a local.”

I mean, going by that logic I’m a fuck-ton more southern then he is- Australia’s as southern as it gets without living in Antarctica. But I digress. We need to get this show on the road.

“I did not come all the way here to argue with you Charlie.” I roll my eyes and sigh deeply, stomping up the porch stairs to meet him at the top, scrunching up my shoulders and feeling slightly sick when he leans over the steps a moment later and spits thick brown shit into the dirt. Why is he always spitting? Why! If he has excess saliva like that, he should go get himself checked out! And if he’s chewing tobacco, then he fucking needs to stop! Restraining myself from saying so though by taking a deep breath as he straightens up again, I instead hold out the A4, manilla yellow envelope that encases our divorce papers - already signed by me, - to him… which he just looks at, of course. Difficult, ancient bastard. “I’ll pay!”

“Is that your way of askin’ for a divorce, honey bear?”

“Why, yes.” I smile, already feeling the relief of cutting ties from this man.

“Then I sweetly decline.” The smile is wiped off my face, and sketched onto his instead. He turns around and goes on into his home, letting the screen door slam shut hard behind him, too, after he gets in.

I sigh in frustration, close to a scream and stand there uselessly for a second before barging in after him and am about to yell for him to get back here, before a rustling sound alerts me to the door on my right and Luda Mae comes out of it. Closing it carefully shut behind her.

Immediately, my mood calms down considerably and I feel a startling, familiar warmth in my chest. The mood Charlie put me in just a second ago all but disappears seeing her. “Luda Mae!”

The moment she realises it’s me, she beams. “Oh, dear. I thought I heard you arguing outside with Hoyt, but I didn’t believe it!”

“Hoyt?” I blink, still smiling but in a confused way. Am I missing something?

“O-oh, I meant Charlie. Sorry, baby.”

After a tight hug we let go and assess each other.

I’m happy to see that she looks healthy. A little sweaty and tired, but she’s always been that way. It’s hard to not be, living here. It’s hot all day, every day - hell, they barely have winter in this part, -, and she’s never really been a summer kind of girl. I suggested to her a couple times that she could move away, but she always said that this is where their family had always lived- and they will always live here. Its where Charlie got it from.

I’m just getting to her eyes, and noticing of course immediately, the sad change in them from the last time I was here and forming a way to ask her if she’s okay when she tucks some grey hair behind her ear and asks me how I am. To be polite of course, I answer. Expecting to ask her the same right after.

“Aw, I’m doing just fine! Trying to get your stubborn son to give me a divorce, but apart from that life’s treating me well. I would love it if you could come visit me sometime in Australia, I have a guest bedroom where I picked the wallpaper and I just know you would love it. Soon as I looked at it, it was so you!” Her eyes brighten at the idea and she’s about to, bashfully decline I’m guessing, but Charlie stomps heavily down the old wooden stairs again like the attention seeking hippopotamus that he is. Has to let everyone know he’s entering. I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you just get a career on the stage, Charlie; They’ll announce your entrance for you. Jee-sus. Save you some time!”

He flashes me an unimpressed and joyless smile, as Luda Mae covers her mouth - not to hide her laughter from her son, but to be polite. She’s classy; I always liked that about her. In fact, I tried to be just like her growing up… I failed, but I still admire the quality on her, - and laughs a bit at my quip. Pride blossoms in my chest and makes me smile wider.

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I’ll never divorce you.”

My smile turns into a scowl and glare. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” He stops beside Luda and drops the barrel of his shotgun back against his shoulder, like a soldier in Buckingham palace. What does he need that for right now?! “Besides, I’m too expensive for you darlin’.”

“I hate you.” I say slowly, so it gets through his skull and he understands. “And you hate me.” He nods in agreement, still looking far too smug and pleased with himself. “So why can’t we get divorced and never talk again?!” I fail to see a downside!!

“Cuz I like to see your feathers all ruffled.”

“You-“ A slew of insults are about to break free of my lips, but a loud, popping bang comes from the kitchen like something tried to get out, making me look startled from the closed door to the room, to Charlie and Luda Mae. “What was that!?”

“Well… “Charlie looks thoughtful for a second, like he truly doesn’t know what to tell me, before slowly turning his gaze on Luda. “I believe Momma just blew up her pie.”

“Wha- “For half a second, Luda Mae looks like she’s about to slap her son all the way to Tim Buk Tu, before smoothening out her features again and turning back to me. Pasting an honestly believable, bashful smile on her face and speaks in a restrained voice that gives away her displeasure. “Yes. Must have lost track of time.”

Well, clearly that’s a bare faced lie. “Nice try. Charlie can pull off a lie like that, but you cant, Luda. What is it?”

Her smile softens and in two seconds she has smacked Charlie -not enough to hurt. It’s just a warning slap for trying to make her sound like a bad baker when we all here know how great she is, - and takes my arm in hers, guiding me across the hall and into the living room. “Really darling, its nothing. Thomas’ havin’ a bad day. I’m sure he’ll buck right back up though when he sees you! Are you going to stay for dinner?”

Looking behind us, I squint dangerously at Charlie. “If Charlie won’t sign these now, I might not have a choice!” Turning back to Luda, I genuinely smile. “But I would genuinely love to stay and see Thomas and Monty too, and eat your cooking! Thank you for the invitation. Maybe I can help with dinner! I have gotten better since the last time I was here.”

Charlie scoffs at my words, walking in after me and beating us to the chairs. He drops down in a recliner while Luda sits us down on the couch together. “You mean when you broke my oven?” She grins, a cheeky glint in her eye and I sigh, embarrassed.

“Yes… “Giggling, I cover my face a moment before jumping back into the fray. “But I really have gotten better!”

“I’d love to see that dear.” And the great thing is, she really does seem to. She would give any number of chances just to see one of her kids - me included, even if I am just her daughter in law. For now, - succeed. For a moment the room is just silent, and I let myself remember what it was like to be here all the time - the good things, I mean. Don’t you worry though, I remember the bad things like fighting tooth and nail with Charlie better the anything, - and how that felt, before Luda claps her hands.

She doesn’t like emotional stuff, Luda. Charlie’s a drama queen, but that’s where the emotion showing stops in this family. Thomas takes after his mother in not being too emotional, ever, and Monty prefers to keep to himself. He always has, and he goes by that philosophy regarding everything. “Well, I’m assuming there’ll be no driving off after dinner- the airport is a solid 4-hour drive! And you will not be driving that long at night.” She sets me with a cold, stern look over her glasses for a moment and even though I’m a 40-year-old woman, I submissively nod to her like a teenager. “You’ll stay in the spare room! Hoyt- Charlie. Sorry. Go change the sheets in there, and I’ll go get Monty to give you company while I start up dinner! Chop chop.”

“Wh- Did you forget she’s here tryin’ t’ divorce me, Momma? I ain’t offering the bitch any pleasantries like that! -“

“You will and you will do it with your mouth shut, Charlie.” Luda Mae gets up to her feet and Charlie and I both crane our necks to see her face. She gets much quieter, and her gaze goes dark like a parents’ does when they’re pissed. “And watch your mouth.”

Charlie bows his head and gets up from his seat, going off to do as she says. “R-Right, momma.”

My grin gets so big it turns into a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions as I watch Charlie walk off up the stairs, flipping me off when Luda leaves the room.

~~~TIME SKIP~~~

In the middle of the night, I get the bight idea to get the divorce done, immediately. If I don’t, I’ll just let time fly by again with Luda Mae and Monty, and Thomas who’s a grown up now, and I’ll never get it done. It has to be done now.

So I get out of bed, pull on my coat since I didn’t bring my dressing gown, grab the manilla file and a pen and leave the room. It doesn’t take me long to get to Charlie’s, seeing as its just down the hall, and I don’t knock before barging in. I close the door veeeeery slowly, and quietly, then sneak around to his side of the bed and take the shotgun that’s leaning against the bedside table, the handgun that sits on it, and the knife under his pillow- I still know my husband, thank you very much. And I know that if he hears someone in his room at night eh will not think or look, before shooting me in the head.

Dropping all the weapons carefully on the armchair in the corner of the room, no longer trying to be quiet as I sit down on the side of his bed that Charilie is not sleeping on. His eyes burst open at feeling the bed dip, and as he looks over to my form, his hand reaches out to grab the handgun of course, and… he calms down immediately to his cranky, exhausted, middle-of-the-night mess. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in here?? This ain’t your room anymore, piss off!”

“I know that, silly!” As he forces himself to sit up and carefully lean his back on the headboard, I hold up the manilla folder. I beam. “Just thought this would be a good time to get our affairs in order!”

“Well,” He takes a gulp from the water on his nightstand. He swallows it like it’s a rock, or a large pill. Is it even water? “You were wrong.”

“Au contrair, mon frair.” I grin, looking around behind me and on the other side of the room for something hard to write on. Ah! Hopping off the bed for a second, I grab a large hardbacked recipe book. “It is the perfect time! You’re sleepy, which makes you 90 percent more likely to be swayed into signing these papers.” I pop the book on his lap, along with the appropriate papers and the pen. “There you go; Now remember, once you sign these, we never have to look at each other’s faces, ever, again. Think about how lovely that’ll be.”

Still with the suspicious liquid at his chin, Charlie slowly raises his eyebrows at me. “Girl, you better get those papers off my lap right now or I’m gonna tear ‘em up.”

“Eep!” Immediately, I snatch them back. Then glare at him as he takes another sip of the drink. “Please.”

“Ain’t no good manners ever made any difference with me.”

I let out a deep sigh, in utter frustration at him.

I turn fully to him, completely comfortable seeing him in his bed shirt and boxers this way- it’s been 20 years and his hair’s going grey, but it still feels natural, fine, to be like this with Charlie. That does not, though, mean that I want to be here. I cross my arms, leaning my shoulder into the headboard. “Why? Why wont you divorce me? Do you hate me that much?”

“No, ‘sweetie’. I love you that much.” I watch him as he sets his jaw, takes yet another sip and glances at me. I gesture for the glass, and he hands it to me.

Taking a gulp as I turn to settle my back against the headboard, I’m pleased to find that the water is not actually water. It’s vodka. Good, I need this after a statement like that from Charlie. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t try to tell me what I do or don’t know.” Taking the glass back from me when I finish it off, he sets it on the table. I can tell he’s still sleepy, and aching to go back to dreamland, as his words are gentler than usual, and his movements are a struggle. “Bottom line is, Y/N. I’m finally getting everything I every wanted- and I’m not gonna to let you slip through the cracks again.”

“Hard to believe, Charlie. You never tried to contact me during those, oh, 20 years I was gone?” Turning my head, I raise my eyebrows at him.

Groaning from the effort, he turns around in his spot, takes one pillow from behind him and gives it to me. “Yeah, well, I was a bit busy helpin’ Mama raise Tommy. I never stopped thinkin’ a’ you as my wife, though. You’re mine, sugar. Whether you like it right now, or not.”

“What’s this for?” I ask, holding the pillow with a confused look.

“Sleep. Its too damn late for this conversation.” My jaw drops, as Charlie lays back down in his bed and snuggles under the blankets, closing his eyes. “If you sleep here, we can talk about this as soon as we wake up; If you go to your room, you’ll have to wait til’ dinner. Then Mama’ll make you stay another night… I suggest you lay down.” With that, he pats the bed as if as an order, and after a moment of thought I groan. Evil, conniving bastard.

I take off my jacket and lay it at the end of the bed, then get under the covers and lay down my head on the pillow, half annoyed and half ready to sleep- it is late, after all. I am pretty tired. And one more night in bed with Charlie isn’t going to kill me, besides… him still loving me? The news does give me something new to think about. It… it needs to be factored in.

A moment passes where we just lay on the different sides of the bed, him with his eyes closed and probably 2 seconds from entering a hypnogogic state and me unable to get comfortable, before I sigh in frustration again and just decide to try something.

Crossing the space between us without warning, I wrap my arms around his middle in a hug, and press my face the nook between where his throat is and his shoulder, smelling a shock of his scent for the first time in 2 decades and closing my eyes to it, trying to ignore the fast paced beating in my chest.

Goddamnit, it worked. I’m comfortable as fuck now.

Charlie doesn’t comment, thankfully, and just makes a sleepy noise and reciprocates the cuddle, pulling my body closer to him by the waist. My heart beats extra fast at it, but I try to focus on going to sleep.

Cuddling with your soon-to-be ex husband and enjoying it means nothing, right? Haha… hopefully.

#Charlie Hewitt x Reader #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader #Luda Mae Hewitt #Monty Hewitt #Thomas Hewitt #Oneshot #Charlie Hewitt x Reader Oneshot #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader Oneshot

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spooky-luvur · 4 years

Note

Is it possible for you to do a fic with Dutch with a male s/o who's deeply in love with him but has a shitty, very homophobic and abusive family?

Anything is possible, dearie.

Also, idk how to put in a ‘read more’ on mobile, so until someone helps me do that, you’re stuck with a big block of text sorry.

I really enjoyed writing this. I hope it’s okay. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

(Warnings: abuse, mentions of rape, language)

(Sorry for any spelling mistakes)

Ranching had been your family’s life since the day your great-great grandpappy had built the entire thing with his own two hands. It was for his wife, Amy Rose. She had come down with a serious illness one day, and she told her husband that before she died she wanted to own a ranch. And he loved her enough to let her have her wish. And so Amy Rose Ranch was born.

You lived and worked here with your parents and two older brothers. Although you wouldn’t exactly say they worked here too. Your family wasn’t...the nicest folk. At least, when it came to you. They thought you were no good, so they left you with the dirty work around the ranch. Which was pretty much...everything.

Shoveling shit, for one. It had to be your least favorite. You also had to do it quickeri than a man could pull a gun on his enemy during a duel. If you took too long, your brothers would come in and force you to clean it all up with your hands, saying the shovel was the reasons you was taking so long.

Ma handled the fancy stuff that didn’t require no shit shoveling or cow milking. She busied herself with the money and who owed them what. Money was a big thing to Ma. She always had to have as much as possible so Pa could buy her that new jewelry set or a fancy mirror. Buyin’ herself all the new clothes and looking more like a queen than a ranch owner.

Pa wasn’t no good neither, but don’t let him catch you sayin’ that. He’s as good as a saint around other folk, but around you, he was as mean and nasty as the devil himself. He’d beat you when he was mad, or when somethin’ around the ranch went wrong, or, on real nasty days, he’d lock you up in the cellar, yelling at you that is was your fault they was losin’ so much money. You never thought too much of it. Honest. It’d been the same for so many years that you’d begun to think it was only normal. That maybe you were the cause of all their problems.

But not this one.

—————

Loud laughter from outside the barn made you pause from laying out hay for the pregnant cow in there. You recognized your pa’s very loud and very fake laugh he saved for folk with lots of money. Shaking your head in sympathy for whatever man stupid enough to fall right into your fathers greedy hands, you turn back to the hay. Before you can finish, though, you flinch at what Pa says next.

“My youngest boy, (M/n), is the one that handles the horses. (M/n)!”

You force back a loud sigh and set down the rest of the hay, pushing open the barn doors to stand next to Pa.

“Yes sir.”

“Take these fine gentlemen to pick out a few horses.”

Your gaze skins over the rough-looking men before you nod.

“Yes sir.”

Before you can turn to lead them to the stables, your father roughly but discreetly grabs your arm and hisses in your ear.

“Don’t screw this up. They have big money.”

You incline your head in a nod, and he lets go, allowing you to lead the men away.

“Dutch Van der Linde.” The nicest dressed man beside you holding out his hands, metal rings gleaming in the harsh sun. You hesitate. Pa had always told to never interact with anyone more than you needed to. For the sake of the other person, of course. Finally getting a good look at the mans face, your breath catches in your throat awkwardly.

By god, he was lovely.

Warm brown eyes look at you curiously. You remember his hand and hurriedly shake it, eyes never leaving his face.

“Uh- I’m- (M/n), I’m (M/n)...”

“Well it’s good to meet you, Mr. (M/n).”

“This is Colt. Four years, Thoroughbred. Good if you wanna be fast. Ezra, five years, Paint.”

Dutch nods along as you list off fair horses. The other two men were off somewhere else in the stables after he’d nodded for them to trot off and check out the other horses.

It was all going well, with Dutch asking a question ever now and again, until you were in the middle of explaining how you bred one horse. The sound of a gun cocking makes your entire body freeze up at the unfamiliar sound. You put your hands up by your head like Pa had taught you to.

Dutch’s warm breath fans over your neck, making you shiver. His voice comes close to your ear.

“Now, Mr. (M/n), we’re going to take a few horses, and you’re going to tell your Pa we’ll be back in a day or two to pay. You think you can do that?”

A sinister laugh from the side makes you flinch.

“Aw, Dutch, don’t make the kid piss himself! He’s shakin’ in his boots!” The mean voice taunts, making Dutch chuckle. The cold barrel of the gun leaves your back, making you relax slightly, hands lowering. He turns you around, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You gonna answer me?”

“Yes sir, I- I can do that.”

He pats your shoulder. “Good.”

“What?!”

“Th-they said they was gonna be back Pa, I didn’t-“

He backhands you, making you fall back with a pained noise you cut off in your throat.

“They better. They better come back, and they better pay, or it’s you I’m putting a bullet through next! Understand me, boy?!”

“Yes sir...”

A few days later, the men do return. They don’t return on the horses they took, which confuses you a bit, but you don’t have the time to think about it once Pa offers them to have some fancy whiskey in the drinking room.

They laugh like they did when the men was first here. This time, both Ma and Pa were laughing with them. Pa yells for you to come pour some more drinks. You go and do so, handing them out. Once you offer Dutch his, he grabs your arm instead of the glass, making you let out a small startled noise. His eyes meet yours before they move down to your uncovered arm, tracing the bruises left by the many harsh grabs from your Pa and brothers. He lets go after a few moments and grabs his glass, taking a sip as if he didn’t do a thing. You blink, straightening up and taking your place beside Pa’s chair.

“What do you and your men do for a living, Mr. Van der Linde?”

Ma’s honey eyes trail over the mans strong arms, down to his several expensive-looking rings. She flutters her eyelashes, giving him an attractive grin.

“We’re merely men, Mrs. O’Malley. Men that needed horses.”

She gives him a fluttery laugh, trailing her fingertips along her exposed collarbone. To your relief and amazement, he doesn’t even give her a second glance. She doesn’t seem to notice his attention is no longer on her.

“So, Mr. Van der Linde, our money?”

“Of course, sir. We have your money. But first, how about another drink?”

Pa never refuses another drink.

“Of course! You can even pick it out. (M/n)!”

“Yes sir.”

“Show Mr. Van der Linde our selection. Help him choose well.”

“Yes sir.”

The entire way to the room, you can feel Dutch’s eyes burning holes into the back of your head. Neither of you say a word, though. You were still wary of the man that held a loaded gun to your back.

You open the door to the room filled with various kinds of alcohol, bowing your head once Dutch passes.

His eyes skim over the room before he turns to you, making you straighten up, keeping your head down. You clench you’re first to stop them from shaking.

You hear the well-dressed man slowly walk closer and closer, until you can see his polished shoes. Nearly jumping at his fingers curling under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His...kind...eyes.

“Your daddy ain’t very good to you.”

It’s not a question.

“I...Pa’s just...he works hard-“

“A daddy should work hard and respect his son.”

Dutch grabs your arm with his other hand, turning it over to look at all the scars and bruises. “This, this is *not* respecting your son.”

Your eyes start to water. “Please...Mr. Van der Linde-“

You look back up, into his eyes, and your face falls completely. That look...a look of pure concern...you’ve never seen a look like that directed to you. Ever. But...they’re not good men. You can tell. Pa can tell. Something’s off. But even with that, you can’t help but feel a pull toward the man before you, as if you need him. Need him to care about you.

But before anything else can happen, the door swings open, making you jump back. Dutch, however, doesn’t move, staying perfectly calm.

Your brother stands in the doorway, eyes wide. He looks between the two of you, putting the pieces together.

Then, his mouth curls into the most sinister and evil grin you’d ever seen.

That’s when you knew, you were fucked.

Pa didn’t say a word to you the rest of the night. You didn’t know if your brother, Alan, had told him what he’d seen. You were tense, waiting for someone to jump up and strike you so hard you’d die.

But nothing happens.

By the end of the night, Pa and Ma are as drunk as a crook. They laugh heartily as they show the men out, completely forgetting all about the thousand or so dollars they still owe them. It was a trick, you realize. You don’t think the men have the money. And Mr. Van der Linde, you realize as the man meets your eye, knows that.

Pa beats you that night.

Two days later, the men return. But things are different. Pa is impatient, and is also starting to wonder if they actually have any money, or if they’re the drunk crooks. They take their seat in the sitting room, but Dutch is the only man from his side to sit as well. The other two men remain standing. Tense. Like a guard waiting for a moment to strike.

No drinks are poured.

For the first several moments, no words are exchanged.

Then, Pa asks the question.

“Where is my money Dutch Van der Linde.”

Dutch intertwines his ringed fingers. The corners of his mouth twitch. He looks amused.

“There is no money.”

Faster than anyone else can move, Pa lets out an angry cry and whips up out of his seat, taking the bottle of expensive scotch on the table and smashing it over your head. Foul smelling liquid and tint shards of glass rain down on your face, that and the pain making you cry out, stumbling to the floor. The alcohol stings your eyes and blurs your vision.

Dutch, to the others astonishment, springs to his feet, clenching his jaw as he takes in your crouched form.

“My money! Give me my money!”

Ma gasps as the other two men whip our their guns, both of them pointed at Pa. The man seethes, deciding to turn his anger to you. He kicks you in the chest, making you let out a pained wheeze.

“Faggot! You goddamn faggot! This is all your fault!”

“Settle down, Mr. O’Malley. Your son did nothing-“

“Nothing?! Why are you so concerned for him?! Did he suck your cock?! Did you fuck him?! That’s all he’s good for!”

The air in the room itself seems to pause. All three of the men freeze and look at Pa with wide eyes. He wouldn’t...

“Fine! If you want him so much then take him!”

He pulls you up by your hair, throwing you at Dutch who catches you in his arms. You push yourself into his chest, tears and blood running down your face.

Someone’s gun goes off. Something falls to the floor. Ma’s scream is cut off by another shot. Something else falls, and then it’s silent.

That night, you stand outside the house with Dutch.

“I am...sorry...you had to live like that, (M/n).” He pulls out a nice stack of bills from his pocket, putting them into your hand. “But you don’t have to listen to them anymore.”

You frown.

“You can go into town, take the train somewhere and-“

“No!”

Dutch raises his brow. “No?”

“I...” you shift, embarrassed. “I want to come with you. Please.”

He shakes his head. “My life isn’t-“

“I don’t care!” You force the money back into his hands.

“If it isn’t with you then I don’t want it. I’ll...I’ll never be safe!”

Dutch studies you for a long moment. Finally, he grins.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

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