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obsessedfluffbutt · 1 month

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Second to last @glowweek prompt!

Day 6: Vacation

Beach Day

Beach City in the summertime! Sun shining, barely a cloud in the sky, people and gems mill about with their ice cream, or slushies. Families gather together on the beach, enjoying the warm sand, basking in the sunlight or splashing around in the water.

On a single blanket with a large umbrella to protect them from the sun's harmful rays sits a new, young family. Majority of the fellow tourists steer clear of the small family with their giant pink umbrella, mostly because of the equally pink lion sleeping next to them. Though that doesn't always stop some of the more adventurous children from indulging their curiosity when their own parents' attention on them wanes.

Steven huffs as he discourages yet another kid, this one barely 4 years old, from trying to climb into Lions mouth. He and Connie know Lion would never hurt anyone, but the last thing they need to deal with while on vacation is panicked parents who, upon finally noticing their absent kid, see them inside the mouth of a massive predator!

“Try to relax hon,” Connie says as she smears a little sunscreen on the face of the small child in her lap, “Lion wouldn't bother opening his mouth for those kids anyways, let alone let them try to climb in!”

“I know, I know, it's just I want you to be able to enjoy your time off without dealing with angry parents.” He slumps onto the ground and gently pats his furry friend's head.

“Thank you, but really, don't worry so much.” She smiles at him, then hands the baby to Steven.

“Here, hold Amie for me while I put sunscreen on your back.”

Steven takes his favorite little bundle of joy from his wife. While he enjoys a light shoulder massage from Connie he plays with Amie, blowing raspberries and making her giggle like crazy.

“Steveeeen! Stevenstevensteven Steven!! And Conniiieee!!” A short green gem screeches as she zips across the sand towards them.

Peridot slides towards them, doing a perfect hook slide, and Steven quickly lifts Amie up and away from the impact zone. No sand is getting in his baby's eyes, not today, not on his watch! Peridot jumps up, dusts off some sand and stands proud, hands on her hips, giant grin on her face.

“Finished your gardening lessons for the day?” Connie asks.

“Indeed I have and I'm the first to arrive! Yes!” She cheers and leaps against Steven to give him a tight hug.

Connie takes Amie so Steven can hug her back, “You humans and this whole “growing up” thing! I can't even get my arms all the way around you anymore! Stop that you clod!” Peridot complains.

“Pretty sure I'm done growing now, Peri.” Steven snickers.

“C-mmm… cwrod!”

The two adults and Peridot freeze, all three heads turning towards the small human in Connie's arms.

“Did… did she just…?” Steven mutters, stunned.

“Her first word!!” Connie practically squeals with joy! “Wait… isn't clod a kind of… gem insult?” Connie asks.

Steven looks to Peridot, “You're the only one I know who regularly says clod… Peri did you… basically teach my daughter a gem swear word!?”

“YES!” Peridot shouts with glee, “That's right little Amie! Clod! Cl-od!”

“Cwod!” Amie says, then blows a spittle bubble. Peridot giggles like a little gremlin, positively delighted. It's obvious to her that Amie doesn't understand what that means just yet, but it won't be long before she does if Peridot has anything to say about it, and much more!

“Peridot. I can tell what you're thinking. No more teaching Amie bad words!” Steven scolds the green gem.

Amie just keeps giggling from where she sits perched on her momma's lap in the shade of their umbrella.

Later that day Pearl nearly faints when she picks up her sweet little Amie and she calls her a clod.

#glowweek prompts #glowweek #steven universe #su #steven universe au #steven universe future #steven #steven and connie #connie maheswaran #connverse #vacation #Peridot would absolutely teach Steven and Connies kids gem swear words #She'd also gift them various carnivorous plants as presents

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chaoticevilbean · 1 year

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Xornoth and His Kids

(Inspired by the Wither AU, by @capriciouswriter207)

(This is supposed to be if the Wither AU was lighthearted)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It doesn’t take much to steal a child.

Sure, people think it’s very difficult. Children are precious, held close to those that guard them. How would it be so easy, so simple to steal a child when so much stands in the way?

The first one is within a land of deluded saints, the sort that would make excellent slaves if he took the time to manipulate them.

He goes at night, making himself a shadow within shadows. The guards are easy to hear and to spot, and therefore hide from. This all hinged on surprise, after all, and it would take much more effort to erase their memories of him, to avoid suspicion at the sight of bodies if he killed them. So sneaking and hiding when he would rather watch blood spill.

The baby is alone in its crib. He snatches it up and disappears into the night.

Just to revel in how easy it was, he doesn’t teleport the entire time. Why would he? They are all too lax in their peace to ever see him.

The next two are within a land of criminals and maniacs.

He goes just before dawn. The insomniacs finally resting and just before the rest woke. He slid into the hallways, easily disabled the traps around the room, and looked into the large crib.

How sweet. They’d put the two together.

So he picks up both of them, not needing his arms to get out without being seen. No one notices. Peace equals lax, and lax equals pain.

He’ll show them. With this, and with the plan.

The trouble starts when he realizes he now has to not let the children die. The three children. Very human infants.

In the Nether.

What do humans need to survive? No, what do human infants need to survive? Perhaps he should steal a few books on that.

Or kidnap someone for the job.

Then he’d have to take care of another human.

Books it is.

The library he goes to is full of many subjects, but only three on human development and care. How fitting.

He reads them all quickly, then gets the supplies.

He can’t let them die before they’ve served their purpose, after all. What a shame it would be. What a waste.

The first issue is the environment. He finds a fortress, fixes some of the holes, and manages to make a somewhat cooler area. He puts a few blankets there, some little stone walls so they don’t roll off them, and sets the infants down gingerly.

He’ll do what he must, but this is very much out of his experiences. Who would have let him touch their child, after all, much less take care of the child?

Oh well. Best get used to it, he supposes. He can last the few years it will take for them to be more… useable.

A spell to keep watch over their temperatures and health and other… whatever the books said. He reads them again. Just in case.

More blankets against the little walls. Why are they so fragile? Were they really meant to become so strong when they were so breakable?

Exor said they were, and so he shall listen.

He terrorizes the piglins into giving him water bottles and fire resistance potions.

He gets a goat. And enough grass for it, and walls to keep it in. He makes the fortress more comfortable for himself after. As a treat.

One of the infants starts to cry.

He sighs as dramatically as he wishes with only Exor to witness. And the goat.

The infant doesn’t notice him suddenly there, until they are picked up and held in the dark arms of the demon. They stop crying, barely, and reach one tiny chubby fist at his face.

“M̸̢̧̛̲͙̘͔͍̻̤̺͋͋̈̿̾̈́͂̈́̂̕̕͝ỳ̵̧͎͔̲̘̫͕̜̫͇̗͍͚̎ͅ ̷̨̟̰̥͔̫̳̠̲͇̘̥̓̍̊̿̌́͂̂͆̍̀͑̓̕̕͘̕͜͝f̸̛̛͓̹͚͈̙̖͚̯̽̇̌͒̏̓́̌́̆̋͆́̀̚͝ā̵͇̼͖̬̍̔̆̒͊̕c̵̢̞̹͇͙̗̲̣̠̜̯͖͓̤͓͕̣͎͒̿ͅȩ̴̛͍̙̙̞͉̫̞̬͍̜̯͖̖͔̪̜̬̑͑̇̀̑̇͆̋̀͛̄̈́̆̀̇͋̚͜ ̸͖͚̩̖̫̰̺̤͓̗͉͙̼̣̳̩͑͆̑̈́̿̂͂͗͌͑͋́̈́̋̈́̐͂̾̅̚͝͝i̵̦̬͒̍́̈́͐̌s̵̨̻͇̥̝̪̫̮̝̦̖͈͇̬̀͆̆ͅ ̴̧̠̝̠͇͓͕̪̻̪̤͚̏̽̔̑̋̑͒̑͌̽̾͝n̵̛͓̪͕̪̗̘̙͓͎̜͋̒͒̿͒͂͛̇̊͆̃̊͊͝ơ̵̧̢̻͖͉̣͚̟͎̗̺̭͂̾̎͊̀̏̉̉̒̓͐̌̀͘͝͝͠t̴̘̬̻͎̖̙̟̰̥̼̣̤̼̱̦͂̊͗̀̀̆͑̕̚̚͝ͅ ̷̢̢̛̲̤͓̖̼͎̲͍̲̠͋͆͋̎̀̐́̀̔̅̓̀͐̾̃̾̾̕̚͝ạ̷̞̮̼̱͓̳̳̓͒̍̔̏̑̈́͑̍̀̆̃̆̀̆̎̚ ̸̛͚͔͆̓̀͌̉͒̄̐͗̅̔̆́̿̚̚͝t̴͕̝̟̟̱̥̣͖̤̠̳̞͔̲̼̥͌̎̓̇̌̐̈́̃͊̋̈̅͛̋͘͜͠ḧ̸͚́̊́̄̀̉̇̽͋͗̇̎͑̽͛̚i̶̧̧̧̧̧̛̬̲͍̝̣͙̮̬̬̣̩͙̲̼͕͐n̵̻̩͗͒̆̐ģ̷̨̛̠͈͕͈͙̥͍͖̤̥͖̯̑̀̈́̓̆̿͛͋͌͒̈̕͠ ̸̬͓̤͎̪͔̭̞̩̠̹͓̣̪͊̔͆͗̽̄͌͒̀̈́͐̑̒͆͒̾͑͒͂̐̎̕͜t̴͍̯͕̝͈̫͍̥̹̪́̆̿͗̅̓̔̈́̍͌̑͆͑͊͛̈͜͝͝͠ȯ̷̥̥̞͈̤͉̣̝͊̒͑̾ͅ ̸̢̼̯̟̠̮̰̞̟̭̖̻͖̬͔̍̓̓͑͗̉̎̀͘͠g̵̡̪̮̳̪̜̣͉̮͔͙̘̗̰̖͕͔̳͐̇̽̈́̔͌̎̽͊̈͂͒͋̓͋̋͗̈́̈́͜ͅr̸̼͒̒̐̇̿̈́̽͘͝͝a̴͇̤̘͎͐̅̀͌̊́͊̇͊͜͝͝͠b̷̧̢̲̮̲̫̯̯̖͚͓̼͈̗̠̰͙̤̺͙̿́͜ͅ.̷̨̛̛̜̘̳̥̥̟͚̞̪̌̐͋̐̀͊̉̿̇̋̾̇͗͒́̚͠”

The infant does not listen. Predictable.

He holds it closer to him, though keeps the hands clear from his face. The infant calms more. He strokes it like the books said to, cringing at the act. How he wishes there was another way. One that didn’t involve… this.

“Î̵̢̡̲̙͙͖̠͈̪̹̝̺̫̺̰̞̲̦̘͈̑́̑̕͘ͅs̸̹̫̥̹̪̘̱̈́͒̿͐͒̀̿̓̾̕ͅ ̷̨̢̢̪̱̤̠͍̱͕̤̬̗͚͉̙͍̭̜̝̳̮͒̒́̀̀͊̍͊̓͐̊̍͐̽ṫ̴̡̳̦̹͉̹͈̭̠̦̠͖̻̤̮̦͎̫̠̣͉̂͛͂͑̒̌̐̊̀͛̂̽͗̔̽̎̓̈͆̕͜ȟ̸̫̺͓̤̘̩̬̯͚͙͈̳̝̺͇̌̒̈́͛́͗́̽̚͜͝ͅị̷̡̢̙̼̞̳̙̥̮͍̹̼̲͈͇̙̻̩̤̼̦͌͗̀͝͠s̵̞͐̇͒̀̓̿͌͗͋́͠ ̴̛͎̞̙̜̻͖̼̻̙͊͌̄̀̈͊̇̐͐͂̎̌͂̾͘̕̚͜͠b̴͍͔̬͉̩̮̒̏͂̈̎̈́͘ê̵̤̼̭̻̦̯̞̦͖͇̖̣͇̠̜̥̙͉͎͈͍̑̔͝ͅt̵̛̼͉̬͔͓̪͓̯̬͍̬͈̝̓̒͆͆̀̍͆̀͋̀̀́͌̂͘̕̚̕͘ţ̴̢̡̧̨̹̘͙̩͉̹͉̱̲͍̀̇̊́͐͐̉͛̉̇̆̄͠͝͝͠͠ę̴̢͕̖̳̺̦͕̻̞̪̩͇̠̍́͛̀̎̔̂̓̏̀̆͒̏̽̓̋̓̅͝ŗ̴̢̗͚̖̜̬̞͓͕̩͌̿͜͜,̵̨̧̡̳̼͓̟͔̤̺̮̱̮̗̪͚̞̱̼̠̭̂̆͌͊̈́̉̄��̽̌͘͠ ̵̳̲̥͇͈̱̝͇͂͛̄̽̇̈́͋̈̎̆̔͘ć̸̡̜̜̺̟͎͇͎̺̖̝̙͚̦̣̱̜̅͛͒̇̎͛̀̐̔̔̕͘̕͜͠h̶̛̫̫̰̘́͛̀̈́̈̓̐̐̊͋̔̅̀̑̍͘͘͘̚͠͝į̸͖̙̥̞̼̥̗̻̱͚̗̻̙̩̫͚͚͔͕̗̊͊̔͛̑͌̐͒̽̾́̅ḽ̸̡͎̒͆̔̈́̃̀̎̏͊̇̀̽̈́̀̑͊̓̂̑d̶͖̪̻̼͖̼̞͓̗̯̞̼͕̰̤͎̱̝̀͒͜͜ͅ?̴̛̘͖̝̌͌̑̒̈̏̂̂̆͊͘͝”

The infant coos contentedly, the grasping hand now holding a strap of his armor.

He sighs, holds the infant close, and hopes he maintains his sanity.

The infants are a lot of work. He knew this going in, though didn’t fully think about it until after. He knows from the books that children are hard to raise.

He thinks the goat is aware of where its milk is going, as the only time it tries to attack is if he’s merely walking by.

The grass needs bonemeal. Not so hard to get. Wither skeletons aren’t that much different than plain skeletons.

He decides that he should make the process of giving physical contact to the infants more efficient. He devises a harness, and puts the first infant over the center of his chest and the other two on his hips.

Perfect. Now he can idly run his hands over them while focusing on more important matters.

It’s actually rather relaxing. The spells to keep watch over their general health are like background noise, and the idle cycle from one to the next is reminiscent of his old habit of running his hands over his sword hilt.

He smirks. The infants serve a use already.

They crawl a lot. And pick up rocks to put in their mouths. He puts a spell on them to at least let them adapt to it faster. No use stopping the pain they’ll eventually have to feel, but the pain will be let in gradually, so they develop a tolerance for it.

The first infant puts a rock in his mouth, tosses it away in disgust, and picks up a new one.

The female - at least, he’s pretty sure it’s the female one - puts one in, tosses it away, puts another in, tosses that one away, too, but then just rolls into her brother and watches him intently.

The last is troublesome. He’s trying to eat the rocks, even though they’re painful to touch, and especially in the mouth.

He rushes over, pushing all the stupid debris away from these idiot infants, and picks up the last one. First crying before the others and now this.

“Ÿ̴̲̮̼͈̙͈́̈͊͝o̷̡͓̣̲͈̜̳̙̱̤̐̃̀̃̚͜͝ų̷̢̼̞̟̬̺̗͎̣̬͇̮̍̑̈͋̅͒́̓̈́̉͂͘ ̴̢̢̢̛̠̭͉̻̪̫̲̝̯͉̤̖͔̜̘̫̍̓̄̿͛̅̇̆̀͐́͋͊͐̎̇ä̸̢̖̫̠̯̪͉́̆̅̽̌̌͋͑̿̀̉͗͘̚ȓ̶̫̝̗͓̟̣̩̂̓̊̐̾̒̚ë̶̞̞͙̗͎̳́̈́̊̃͆̋́̀̃̀̆̚͝ ̴͈̯̳̙̩̫̠͠ͅͅf̴̧̧̧̛͉͙̞̮̯̞͖̟̬̝͈̺̺͉̼͇́̆̈́͛ͅǎ̴͔̫͐͂͝ͅr̶͓̐͛̅͛͑͠ ̶̡̝͎̰̳̜̳̱̰͙̯̺͉̭̱̦̣͙͙̃̀͛͆̉̐͒̾͊̿͒͂̈́̕͘̕ͅt̸̢̡͚̻̪͖̳̘̥̣̳͚̝͙̝͍̣̝͕̼͒͛̀͐ͅǫ̷̲̹̝̱̥̦̼̱̗̭͍͉̝̫̾͋̓̊͛́̑̔͛̿̐̽͒͋̃͝ȯ̷̧̧̢̤͕̜͈̹̫͉̩̣̫̦̫̪̹ͅ ̵̢̛͍̩̥̖͓̳̎̔͛̽͒̈́͋͂̓́̐̉̐́̆͘͠t̴̡̙̳͈̫͍̘̬̲̝͙̕ŗ̷̩̫͔̭̰̱̎͠o̸̡̡̢͕̣̣͚̪͖̳͍͇̻̹̟̲̭̺̊̑̓͋̒̎̐̈́́̆̽͂̒͗ù̸̙͍͔͑̀͆͌̀̇͗̓́̒̈́͆͋͂̏̽̽̀͘̚b̴̢̡̛̛͖̯̦̯̙͇̭̟̜̼̋̇́̉͌̔̈́́͐̆͘̚͠͝ͅl̶̨̢̝̥̺̭̩̹̰̥͚͈̹̣̤̤̼̐̑̽̿́̽͐̄͐͜e̵͔̼̮̭̟̟͕̮̘̬̬͛͊̈́̓̚͜ͅś̸̨̡̼̫̖͕̻̫̖͓̻͚̜̱͍̫̫͗̓͊̍̀̎̍̔̂͂͐͌͂̏̐̊̕̕͠ͅơ̸̡̧̻͙̞̖̯̬̫̯͎̜̬͎̙̦̘̦̄̄̀̒̾͛̉̕m̴̨̩̠̪͈͙̪̭̺̑̾̒͋͆̀̉̂̐̊̑́̕͝͝e̵̛̼͆̐̒͊̈͛̎̽̍̈̀́̚͘͝.̵̡̧̧̠̖̪͓̗̠̻͕̼͚̼̥̌̅̈́͑̀̕͜͠͠”

He coos, laughs, and grasps tightly to the fabric within reach.

Xornoth sighs dramatically once more.

The goat bleats at him. He ignores it.

He gets them toys. Trinkets, really, made to not damage a stupid child who puts things they shouldn’t into their mouth.

He thinks he should name them.

He doesn’t know what, though. Their birth names are not a choice, given he plans to just tell them they were made by Exor.

The first clings to him when he tries to put him down into the little pen. There are lots of tears building up, so Xornoth sighs and straightens and holds the infant close.

“Y̶̧̪̩̖̘̲̩̼̬͈̣̦̩̳̌̽̓̀̾͊͒́̑̀͊̓͛͠͝͝ǫ̸͙̯̯̜̤̫̣̙̹̤̞̜̱͈̰̩̓͑̃̎͌̽́̓̍̅̉́̕̚ų̸̛̞͍̮̜̝̻̠̺̒̎͂̈͒̿͜ ̶��̹̠͈̬͕͇̰̪̱̥̞͔͇̘̦͈̝̒̉̌̉̑̕a̷̡̧̛̭̜̠̽̇̏͐̅̋̀́̂̏̍̽͆̀̑͆̚͘̕r̶̠͇͚̠̥̦̊͆͋̕͘͘͘͜ͅͅe̴̡̞̞̣̠̩̬̱̞̒̅̓̆͊̈́̀͛̔̈́͋̾̈́̑̆̀͐̓̑̚͝ ̷̛̛̗̬̲̐͋͛͆͊̑͆̍̊͗̀͛̆̿͗̆͐͗ͅä̸̛̘́̈́̈̈́̃̽̈́̇̽g̸̭͖̑̋̈́̾̈́̐̆͛̆̏̐̿̍̐̕̕͜͝͝g̴̨̢̛̪̒̃͑̈́͌̆́̀͘͝r̴͍̣͇̬̠̝̖̙͓̠̝̞̳̺̦͔̂͌̓̇̾͒̽̔̈̉̃̆̓͊͆̓̓̍̓̚͝ͅͅả̵͓͉̙̦̦̪͎̞̪̳̮̜͍̬̅̇̍̔͘v̵̛̰̩̥͎̦͖͙̟̼̭̯͕͇̼̱͉͚̬̙̝͍̘̓̄̽͑̍͂̊̀̓̐͝ā̷̛̺͎̯̻̹̘̱̥̰͈̺͉͉͛̓͜ṫ̵̛͚̙̟̯̰̹̹͆͑̒̄̔̀͊̆̕ͅḭ̸̧̢̞͉̰̓̀̒̊̈́̅͊̑̾̓͝n̶͙͇̭͓̭̮͎̈̈́͂̋̕͜͜g̵͚̝͕̞̤̫̰̙̪͆̐̈̉̀͋͗̎̑́̋͐̕̕l̸̯̦̙̭̪̙͊̈́͛̍̄̕͘͠͝ÿ̷͚̭̣̫͈́̈̍̄̇̏́̄̾̒̊̋̋̂͆͘͠͝ ̸̪̪͉̹̰͈̫̃̄̀̂́͛̒̒̾̎́̕c̷̨̡̯̠̯̖̯̘̟̳͎̼̬̗̤̍̈́̍͛̽̾͊̆̾͒͒̓͊͒͆͒͛̓̚̚̚͝l̶̡̻̭̦̤̻͉̝͔̾͋̒͜ȉ̸̛͕̳͔̯͉̥̼̝̠͌̈́̇̀͌͊̀̎̚̕͘͜͝n̵̛̪̝̬̱̟̝̱͖͓̮̳̼̖͖̗͌̄͒̔̍̄̋̽̎́̈̎̆̾͗͐̄̍͜ͅg̵̡̢̹̼̝̘̬̭̘̼̗͓̞͉͇̦̮͌̓̈́̓̂͗̚͜͝͝ŷ̴̧͕̗̝̭̰͓̠̯̭̥̒̓̀̆̄̋̋̓͒͋̃̀͛̈́̀͌͆̆͘͜͜ͅ.̷̧̧̞̳̪̫͐̐̊͑̍̓̽̐͑͋̑̐̃͌́̂̔̃”

The child giggles. Like this is some grand joke he’s playing on the demon.

The goat bleats. He ignores it again.

The other children begin to cry, so he puts them back in their spots in the harness. They stop crying immediately. And then they, too, are laughing with the first.

He sighs.

They laugh harder.

He thinks for a moment. Then he gives his most dramatic sigh yet.

They burst out into the most bubbly laughter he’s ever heard, infants or not.

Ah. Well, at least it might work to calm them down in other scenarios.

The first reaches a hand up, and Xornoth catches it before it hits his face. The little arm is like a sausage, all healthy chub and developing muscles.

“Ÿ̸̢̻̮͔̲̫͕̰̬̹̫͉̳́̋͊̉̕͝o̸͇̭̪̍̋̈́ư̶̬͔͈̟̥͓̠̲͎̲͑̏̉͗͗͘ ̷͇͙̏̍̉͋̑̐͛͆̒̚̕͝ȃ̵̧͈͚̿̊͘͝͠ȑ̷͓͖̥͌̿̎͌͂̈̚͝e̷̡̘͉̥̹̜̙̪̘̰̔̂̌ ̶̡͖̪̮̾̎ṱ̶̨͉̰͈͚̣͓̼̟͕̀̉͆̏͗̋̈́͜ḧ̴̬́̅̓̋͌̆̀́͜ę̷̨̳̯͔̟͉̗̰͕̼̃̍̃̔͂̈́̒̆̍́͗̓͝ ̷̧͚͚͖̘̞̟̝͉̦̳̓̋̾̔̍̆̄͊̚͜͠į̸̪̦̹͎̖͉̟̗̪͓̺͍̊̈̋͗̇̈́̀̊ņ̶̧̣̤̼̱̠̼͚̮̲̀͑͆̔̄͗̊̌̿̋͘ͅì̵̼͍̓̍͐͛̉̔͝t̸̞͓̉̅̌̚͝i̶̞̇́̿̑̕̕̕a̶̡̱̯̺̫̻̪͉̦̻̋̇̑̈̃̏̌̒̓̈̐̆̚ṯ̴̨̧̛̰̘̱̯̱̃̋̅̔̍͊ö̸͎͇̳̩̳̳́̋̆̋̓̓̀̓̏͒̃̑ͅr̵̯̗̥̮̐͜ ̵͕̏̈́̉̈́ȏ̷̰̼̪̈́͑̒̀̍͒̎f̷̢̧̰̩̜͖̈̓̓̊̓͜ ̷̠̆͌͛͐̀̓͊́̌̂̕͝͝c̶̡̢̢̨̭̳̰͉̻͎̗̬̣͗̔̿̑̓͊̽̈́͘͘͝h̴̢̢̧̬̱̯̣̟̬̆̈̐͛͑̄́̀̍̈́͜͠͠͝ͅa̸̧̦̪̫̹͙͎̮̝̣̝̥͒̓̈́̈̃̈̓͂̅̌͝͝ȏ̸̢̯̥̻͇̼̯̉͐͒̉̃̄̽̾s̷̢̡̢̭͉̣̰̭̄͊̄͆̂̈̀͗͝,̵̛̙̱̹͔̻͔̭̩͇̰̇͋̏̏̐́̀͗̑̄̃͝ ̸̨̔̆ȧ̸̡̨̞̟̠̗͈̹̱͔̗͊̓̍̒́̃͆̔͌̉͘̚r̵̟̒̽̓̓͌͑̓̚e̶̛̖̪̳̼̞̟̫͖̝ͅņ̸̭̳̰̭̇͆'̸̘͎͔̤̼̣͎͚̼́̓̅̃̌̌̀̈̾̚t̸̨͇̥̻͖̺̤̮̝̣̮͎́͘ ̵̛͚͇͖̹͈͉̗͓̯̘͕̥̈̆̋̿̊̾͒̈́̂͠y̸̢̮̺͈̜̪͐̂͊̏̽̽́̽͘o̶͐͗͌̌̑͐̈́̏̕̕͜͝ụ̷̧͓̭̦̬̤̝͙̌̂̈́̓͌͗̉̔͜͝͠ͅ,̸͓̤̖̜̙͉͈̋͜͜ ̵̯̰̻̹̤̘̘̃̆̈́̈́̅̃͋̓͛͝l̵̮̬̆̈́́̋͐͐͂̈́͊́̒̍i̸̥̟̹̳͙̥̪̟̤̥̍̆͌̀̓̆̈̋̆͘ͅț̶̞̀͊͐̈́͂̆͌̎̀͘͝t̵̛̛̟͇̜͊̓̈̿̌͝l̵̦͛̉̐̒̇̾͌ẹ̴̖̍́̋̀̽́̅̇͘͝͝ ̷̡̝̺͔̬̬̖͓͗́͂̃̿̾͒s̴̫̣̣̯͚̦̩̲͈̼̀̌͐̊̔͑̍͌̃̕a̵͔̗̝̗̼̪̅̇͜u̸̧̼͇͇̦͕̼͉̼̜̖̪͊s̴̛̠̥̦̯̞̘͊͑̈͋̑͛ͅͅa̴̢͈̼̞̓͌̔̃͗͘ͅg̴̛̣͍̰͉̒̀̂͂̍̃̂̆̍͒̓͜ę̵͕̤̯͈̫̙͎̯͍͔̭͊͐̀̾͋͑̋͊̾̈́ͅ?̷̯̩̌͋̔̃̽̀̿̎̋̐̚͘͠”

The little one lights up at his attention.

Huh. He could get used to that.

The female crawls up to him, one day, as he sits preparing milk bottles for them. He’ll start them on solids soon, he supposes.

She grasps his boot, tugging with the mighty strength of a fragile baby.

“Y̶̛̯͐̍͋̔̎̋̈́̔͊ḝ̸̧̢̮̖͖̘̜̘̙̲͐̀̓͌̍̍s̴̢͇̖͓̅̊́͆̈͆̄̊͘͝͝͠?̶̡̣̼́”

She silently reaches the other hand up, something clutched tightly in it. He puts his hand out, letting her shove it in, and then she’s sitting down, watching him.

Waiting.

He looks at what she’s found.

A quartz crystal. Small, but shining in the lavalight.

He looks at her. He sighs slightly, and she laughs. Then she turns and crawls back to her siblings, content with the reaction.

He looks at the crystal again.

“S̸̨̗̘̻̲̘̄͑͜͠͝͠ͅű̵̹̞͈̾̑͂̕͜͝c̵̠̲͐̀̏̋̋̚h̸̥͉͉͎̥̹̲̳͐̋͘͠ͅ ̴̛͍͂̀̓͑͋̌̋͂a̵̡̡̦̱̲̩͖̻͑̈́̇̐̊̋̓̎̕ ̵̢̡͚͚̖̜̥͒l̴̢̫͇̹͙̜̹̐̈̿̍͆̕ͅi̸͙̗͉͉̻͒̅̎t̶͚̠̜̳͈̻̒̄̈́̿̀͊ṱ̷̦̠̤̥̓̂ĺ̷̡̥̝̞̪̤e̵͎͕̙̺̥̎͊̈́̓̿̃̍ͅ ̵̛̗̮̺̱̲͚̺̏̓g̷͍͈̰̦̰̪̃̌͜ĕ̴͓͈̮̟͙͎͔̈̈́̃̊͘̚͝m̶̡̘̼̤̟̻̮̌̍̓̓̃͐̈́͠.̷̨̧͍̳̯̟͔̀͐͌̈́͋̏̈́̐͠”

It’s rather the perfect size for a baby’s fist. Or for a piece of jewelry.

The baby that eats rocks won’t stop making weird noises, now. The other two are trying to repeat sounds they’ve heard, but Xornoth has no idea where the third is hearing the noises he makes.

“Fffwhip.”

It’s a hard word for a baby’s mouth, he’ll admit, but it’d be more impressive if it wasn’t the only sound he’s made in three days.

Beyond crying and laughing, of course.

They’ve started on solid food, though the goat insists he milk her. He does, if only for the extra nutrition that might not be found in pork and fungi.

“Fffwhip.”

He picks up the problem child as he makes yet another attempt at escaping the - now slightly expanded - stone pen he’s lived in the entire time.

“S̴̡̳͚̦̫̘̋͑͠ẗ̶̼́̽o̸̡͖͍̠͉̝̺̪̎̈́̓̃̚p̶̡̧̢̛̟͚̯͚̾̈́̽̋͂̅͒͒͜ͅ ̸̮̦̒͗̓̀̅̃͝i̸̬͖̦͇͖̰͔͐̈́̂͂̀͜t̷̜͔̋̏͂̀͌̓͝͝.̶̞̘͙̩͎͉̭̮͂̈̍”

“Fffwhip.”

He glares at the child.

“I̵̢̦̬̫̐͑͘̕ ̵̜̤̩̞̝̰̈́̐͘a̸̧̨̯̻͙̻͓̘̦͛̅̓͗̄̀̕͝͝m̷͙̎́́͂̑͘͝ ̶͈̗̜̝̣̮̮̤̳̏̓̒̽ẃ̷̺͓̳͐̒͆̌̆ͅa̴̝̿̕̕r̶̛͈̖̅̾̄̆̌͐͂̕n̶̪͎̖̦̂̐͜i̴̛̛̲̦͔͋̈́́̽̈́n̴̢̧̡̖̥̝͎̖̺̏̆̓̀̏̂̅͝g̵̱̜͙̦̘͚̲͔̬̑̊̅̉̐͒̔͘͠ ̸̨̞̝̯͂͗͝y̸̻̚o̴̧̧̭̣͈̳̞̣͉̿̀̐̐̐̍̕̚͠ù̸̡̠̊̍͌̂͜.̵͎̬͍͉͓͎̊̒̀͛͛̽̔̈́”

The baby pauses.

“Fffwhip.”

He holds back a sigh. This is not a laughing matter.

Except…

“F̶̩̺̥̠̆̓͑w̸͍̘̘̉̔̈́̒͛͝h̶̹͚͝ï̷̠̤̥̬̓̈́p̸̧͚̻̣̤̻͂̇̑͋̕.̷̡̣̞̬̺̟͖̕͝”

The baby beams, ecstatic.

“Fffwhip!”

“F̸̘̯̒̾ẅ̶̳́͛h̵̠̔̍̈́̈́í̵͚̦̱̋̎̚p̵̞͇̍͊͝.̵̠̲̥̋̈̌͑”

“Ffwhip!”

“F̵̡͘w̷̧̃h̵̛̻ḯ̶͍p̷̖̓.̸̯̎”

“Fwhip!”

“F̴w̴h̶i̴p̸.̷.”

The child laughs.

Why does he say it-

It hits Xornoth like a ravager to the chest.

He wears a cloak. He never takes it off, because he doesn’t need to and it’s comfortable.

It swishes while he walks, especially when he makes a sharp turn from the goat to the children’s pen.

It makes a ‘fwhip’ noise.

The child is saying he’s there.

And he is agreeing.

“F̴w̴h̶i̴p̸.̷”

The little one drifts off soon after. When placed upon the blankets, his siblings crowd around, asleep in seconds.

But Xornoth stays. He watches.

The goat bleats. He looks over to meet her eyes.

“I̸ ̶a̶m̴ ̶n̶o̷t̴ ̴a̴ ̴p̶a̴r̶e̶n̸t̶.̵”

She bleats again. Are you sure?

“O̴͍̮͎͋͂͌f̶̟̗̈́̾̉ ̷̰̞̱́̚c̸̭͛̐̈́ô̶̬̔͝ų̸̗͇̋̏̌r̴̼͓̖̎͠s̶̳̔̀ẽ̵̞͆ ̸̮͗ͅÏ̴̙̑͜ͅ'̵̡͖̟͒͆m̵̫͛͗̚ ̵̢̛̩̏s̸̠̈́̔u̵̞͚̒r̷̜̘̎̒e̷̞̰͛.̷̭̠̓̓̕”

But how do you know?

“B̷̡̋͌̄̾ḙ̵̥̈́̄̃̽̅ͅc̴͉̑̿̏͝ȧ̴̪̬̆̀̓̎ͅu̸͙̦͍̗̓̀̄͊s̴̠̭̤̗̬̄̅̆̈́̆ë̸̥͍́͠͝ͅ-̶̖͖͇̻͍͛” He cuts himself off. He’s talking to a goat.

But it is a good question.

“I̷ ̷d̶o̸n̵'̷t̷ ̸k̴n̶o̷w̵ ̶h̵o̶w̶ ̵t̷o̸ ̵b̶e̶ ̵a̸ ̴p̶a̵r̴e̸n̷t̸,̶” he admits.

You can learn.

Simple. Like it’s a fact. Of course he can learn. It’s not like he’s a demon bent on destroying the Overworld and all other dimensions, the Champion of Exor, who is meant to train these children into the perfect soldiers who will fight for the glory of his god.

You can get more out of a child who loves you than you ever could a soldier who fears you.

Well, the goat is officially on his despises-but-cannot-kill-for-reasons list.

Because the thought worms its way in and becomes the reasoning, the rationale for what he does next.

#empires smp #empires s1 #empires fwhip #empires gem #empires sausage #empires au #based on the wither au #empires xornoth #xornoth and his kids

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