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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

Note

please elaborare on alien yan and them thembo cow reader

(Just a not so little dairy farmer and the extraterrestrial who's got the hots for them and not totally isn't trying to lure them onto their ship)

Fresh mountain air, wide open fields for you and your herd. It wasn't always easy, but this was certainly the life for you.

Early on, you did everything thing to conform to human society. Taken in by a family in a place where people like you were the norm life was pretty easy - say for strangers tugging your horns when you were too small to defend yourself and mooing at you on the street, but that problem took care of itself once you towered over your bullies later on with the strength to match.

The only challenge you faced afterwards was a thirst for a life that never was. Living in a bustling city, you never experienced the outdoor life yourself, but you grew up on the romanticized portrayals - and fell more in love with the real thing when you finally got a taste visiting a close friend's family farm. It was then and there you decided to pack up and move out to the country once you had the funds. As luck would have it, that friend called you up with an offer you couldn't refuse when they heard about your future plans. Overnight, you were the new owner of a farm and on your way to living the life of your dreams. Wished they'd told you more about the surveillance cameras you found hidden around during a deeper inspection of the place, but you'd manage.

You adored the change of scenery. There was a town a couple miles out so you weren't completely alone, but you had your animals to keep you company. Majority of your business comes from that town, but you've been taking a little break recently to take care of your herd and the bizarre events happening around your barn. You normally let your cows go free range, but two of them have gone missing without a trace. You've found strange symbols carved into the wood of your home and fields, the stocks from the harvest bundled neatly at your doorstep. Day by day, you started to regret not asking more about those odd cameras - especially since your friend hasn't answered any of your calls recently, but now's not the time to focus on that.

You've got a visitor.

Tires crunching atop the gravel road, an old beat up truck pulls up to the side of your house. No deliveries were scheduled for today, so you guessed they might've needed some assistance or looking to by something for the road. As the driver steps out of the vehicle, you're fairly surprised. They were big as you if not bigger; a slight hunch in their back obscured their full height. You've never met a human around your size and you couldn't see any features so far that would mark them as a hybrid. It was hard to see most of them really. A baseball cap was pulled over their eyes and the lower portion of their face was covered by a cloth mask. The only reason you knew was because they were staring right at you, all the way over at the open barn. The bovine at your side nudges your shoulder as you look back.

"I'll be back back soon. Okay?" You stroke her head and lead her back to the rise of the ground, picking up the filled bottles of milk and your bucket on your way out. The driver is inspecting your front door by the time you make it down the small hill to your humble home, picking at the flaking wood with their black nails. One foot on the porch and they're back focused on you. You still can't see their eyes or face, but their cheeks crinkle like they're smiling.

"Afternoon."

Their voice is...off. It's scratchy and hoarse like they haven't had a drink of water in days, but it reminds more you of static. Must be rough for truckers this time of year. "Afternoon! What can I do for you?"

The driver looks their feet, brows scrunched as they mutter to themselves. "H...ha.. Happen to have something to drink on you? I'm quite parched from my... travels."

"Course, kind of our main business here." You joke, reaching ingo your bottle for a glass. "On the house. Not to sound rude or anything, but you sound like you need it."

You hand the fresh bottle of milk to the stranger who graciously it off your hands - popping the top and taking a curious sip of the sweet cream. Their jaw shifts as they swish it around on their tongue, stiff shoulders relaxing some.

You fix the bill of your hat, horns making the task the toughest of your load. "Hope it's to your liking. Comes fresh from barn!"

The stranger studies your face and horns; eyes slowly falling to your chest and the cow print pattern of your tee. In a flash they're throwing their head back and down the entire bottle, lapping at its rim and snaking their slender tongue down its hole. It hits the bottom of the glass, pulsing against its floor. Maybe they were a hybrid -longest tongue you've ever seen. They stop only when their hat starts to slide back to fix it. You've never seen anyone so excited for your milk before - you hope the girls will be happy to hear this when you feed the herd later on.

"So, what are you doing in this parts? Haven't seen a delivery truck come by that wasn't one of mine in months."

A hairline crack runs the wall of the bottle. "I.... "ve just been on the road with no destination in mind. Searching for my place in the universe, but the country air is nice too. Think my trucks finally giving up on me, and I saw a sign for your farm down the road. Do you have a room I can stay in till I get it working? Food won't be an issue for me.. I can repay you with my services for now and send some money late on. Please..."

The poor thing. You rest your hand on their shoulder. "Slow down, it's alright. You don't have to pay me back or anything. Just focus on getting back on your feet, okay. The guest soon is a little junky right now since I haven't unpacked all my things, but you can wait in the living room while I'm moving things around. Welcome aboard."

Patting their arm, you swing the screen door open and step inside, inviting the in. Walking closer, their attention is taken by the wind chimes handing above your door, moreso the stains they reveal. The stranger takes off their coat and throws it on the chair outside your home. Your tail swings behind you with each step you take - so close yet so far. No - patience. They already had one slip up earlier with their lines. They'd rehearsed so many times, but not once did they conquer the hypothetical where you asked about them. It was the most logical option, so of course they skipped it. Their sweet cow would do nothing but offer a hand to the unfortunate. That's why they loved you so.

In their searches they found nothing to save this planet from its fate, but in the end one member of it's superior class would live on - in the stars.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere insert #monster reader #yandere drabble #yandere alien #hybrid reader

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jonquilyst · 2 months ago

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Briar Vinca for @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants' Simply Lilac BC

Contestant

Name: Briar Vinca (Brai-err Veen-kuh) Age Group: YA (about the same age as Lilac) Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: Pansexual Hometown: Henford-On-Bagley Occupation: Florist Skills: Gardening and basic cooking Traits: Lazy, Green Fiend, Vegetarian Aspiration: Eco Innovator Life State: Human Likes: Gardening, Spirited Sims, Small Talk, Blue, Green, Pink, Nature Enthusiasts, Singing, Affection, Deep Thoughts, Discussing Hobbies, Discussing Interests, Family-Motivated Sims, Homebody Sims, Singer-Songwriter Music, Cottagecore Music, Romance Music, Pop Music Dislikes: Fitness, Potty Humor, Deception, Arguments, Gossip, Argumentative Sims, Emotional Decision-Makers, METAL MUSIC, Electronica Music, DJ Booth Music, Alternative Music Gifts: A finished cross-stitch piece (1), A painting (2), any flower (3) Misc: A nerd about flowers. She is very knowledgable in flowering plant biology

In Depth: Briar is an environment-conscious florist who was born, raised, and still a current resident of Henford-on-Bagley. She was adopted by a pair of mothers, Estelle Vinca and Madelynn Goth (yes, a descendant of the Goth family). She has an older brother named Oakley, who is a science baby born from Estelle and Madelynn's genetics. He is now a professional mixologist and a seasoned bowler living in Chestnust Ridge, but he and Briar grew up together in the most rural part of Henford-on-Bagley: The Bramblewood. Their mothers ran a farm there (both with crops and livestock) and it was this farm that Briar grew to love gardening and plants. She's not as good as Estelle (who upkept the garden), but she's learning the ropes! Briar is now living in Finchwick, but she's still very much a country girl and loves her life in Henford-on-Bagley. Briar cares a lot about climate change and wants to help save the environment. She makes sure she's wearing ethically-made clothing and one of the reasons why she's living in Finchwick is to be walking-distance from the stores, no car needed! She's also vegetarian by choice because she grew up surrounded by animals and doesn't like the thought of eating meat (though she is ok with consuming things like eggs and dairy as long as they were ethically produced). Briar wants to take her shot at the BC because she thinks she and Lilac have a lot in common, and also because she grew up simple-living her entire life because of her remote upbringing. Therefore she doesn't think the simple-living will be much of a challenge for her

Other: She's my Gen 7 spare of my Vinca legacy and is the niece of Lucian!

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? (The bachelorette will have the ‘player’ trait cheated and her boundaries set to no jealousy, so it will not impact your sim’s relationship with her.) [Yes]

WooHooing other contestants? [Yes]

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs? [Yes]

Flirting with the host? [Yes]

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? (ie. Evil to Good, depending on what your Sim does, or adding traits) [Yes]

(Humans Only) Becoming an occult? [No, I'd like her to remain human please ^^]

(Werewolves Only) The Fated Mate mechanic? (If a werewolf ends up winning the challenge, I will cheat out that sentiment) [N/A]

#simply lilac

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askamydaily · 7 months ago

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FINALLY ...

I don't have to care about gender reveal parties.

(The following column runs in newspapers across the country on May 24th, 2024)

Dear Readers: After 21 years writing the “Ask Amy” column, I’m announcing that I’m leaving this space. My final column will run at the end of June.

I’m healthy, happy, and 64-years-old. This is a decision I’ve been wrestling with for over a year.

When I was first hired by the Chicago Tribune to write an advice column after Ann Landers’ death, I was a middle-aged single mother. My daughter Emily and I moved from our long-time home in Washington DC and relocated to Chicago.

[Emily and Amy, Freeville, NY. Photo by Chris Walker for the Chicago Tribune]

My welcome to Chicago was to deliver a solo performance of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” in front of 35,000 baseball fans during the 7th inning stretch of a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.

This turned out to be a metaphor for my experience writing this column, which has been an exuberant and sometimes nerve-wracking effort of trying to hit the right notes before a huge audience.

After several great years in Chicago, Emily left for college and I moved back to my tiny hometown of Freeville, NY (pop. 505), to spend time with my sisters, aunts and cousins, and to be with my mother at the end of her life.

My experiences have mirrored those of many of my readers. For me, these last two decades have been about the intensity and consequences of both love and loss.

After returning home, I promptly tumbled into a Hallmark Channel plotline, when I fell in love with and quickly married a man I’ve known since childhood (we grew up on neighboring dairy farms). My husband Bruno and I then blundered into the oftentimes awkward blending of our family of five daughters.

[2008, Freeville, NY]

I became a stepmother, and then a grandmother, all before I believed I was ready.

My mother and her three wonderful sisters are gone, now. A niece and nephew died, tragically, while in their teens. Much of my recent life has been absorbed by caregiving, mourning, and recovery.

Day in, day out -- over the last two decades – readers have generously shared their own vulnerabilities about many of our common experiences. I’m grateful that we’ve been able to help each other.

I’ve burned through eight laptops, opened bushels of postal mail, written columns in the car, on board planes, in hospital waiting rooms, on my honeymoon, and at my mother’s bedside. During this time, I’ve also written two books, a screenplay, and scores of essays.

Doing this work has sent me into therapy. It has inspired me to explore the teachings of world religions, and to seek the insight of thinkers like Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. I’ve quoted the wisdom of Maya Angelou, Joni Mitchell and Fred Rogers -- as well as dozens of poets, social scientists and psychologists.

I’ve made my share of mistakes, been well-pranked – at least twice (that I know of), and learned how to apologize, ask for forgiveness, and to forgive other people for their own mistakes. Inspired by readers’ dilemmas, I’ve also worked hard to mend fractured family relationships and to be a better friend.

My personal experiences are a reminder that we humans can’t really control what happened before or what happens next. Joy, like grief, comes at you in such unexpected ways. That’s why it is so important to pay attention. I’ve learned to do that.

Being an advice-giver has challenged me to be aware of cultural, social, and relationship trends -- and to appreciate the quirks of human behavior.

When readers get frustrated by my lengthy answers to sometimes petty problems, they will often suggest that I should just tell people to “get a life!,” but I think that wrestling with our questions – from the quotidian to the profound – is living.

For the next month, I’ll continue to publish fresh columns and rerun some favorites. After that, my fantasy is to drive an RV across the country, visiting people I’ve met through this work who have challenged me and tantalized readers with their anonymous requests for advice.

In my hometown, I’m opening a little lending library. You can find me on social media, through my Asking Amy newsletter, at amydickinson.com, or at the Freeville Literary Society on Main Street – talking books with kids and offering advice to anyone who asks.

Love,

Amy

#ask amy #amy dickinson #relationship advice

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 1 year ago

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Good Omens Fic Rec: Bleating Hearts

Meet Doctor Aziraphale Fell, university lecturer of English Literature, Shakespearian expert, and man with an unexpected goat in his office. When the handsome herder who comes to catch the unruly visitor asks some pointed questions, Aziraphale finds his life suddenly turned upside down and filled with both new challenges and opportunities. But is Crowley all that he says he is? And even if he isn’t–does it really matter when he’s clearly a piece of the puzzle missing in Aziraphale’s life? Trip on over to Devil Doe’s Dairy and Goat Scaping Farm, where the cheese is always smooth, the goats climb roofs, and true love might just be around the corner.

Length: 186,422 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance, Pick-me-up

Triggers: Talk of animal death, references to past partner abuse

Read it here, fic by HKBlack

*Minor Spoilers* I should be used to it now, but the fact that our blorbos fit so effortlessly into a Goat Herder AU is frankly ridiculous. I fear I may never get over these characters. This is such a great read. Here Crowley is our Goat Herder, while Aziraphale is a Doctor of Literature. Their meet cute begins with a goat invasion in Aziraphale's office. Naughty Bentley goat! Their chemistry is electric, as always, but here it has an extra friendliness. This isn't enemies to lovers, they just genuinely enjoy each other right off the bat. This also isn’t a slow burn, but they do actually take the time to date and ease into the bigger steps. I loved watching their love story, and falling in love with the farm alongside Aziraphale.

A bulk of this story will follow Crowley's past and family. The relationship Crowley has with his father was just as engaging to me as the romance plot. The feeling of tension in every scene is so strong. Anyone with toxic family can relate. And it brings a real depth to this human version of Crowley. Aziraphale also has a strained family life and while I liked what we got, I wish there was more of his family in this. We don't get a scene with his mother and I would have really liked to have that. The family that matters through is the one they’ve made for themselves. The community around the farm really is the perfect found family story. Newt is especially used to great effect here. I could read a million words of this universe and never get bored I think.

These goats are more than just a silly AU. It truly is an entertaining and strangely fitting setting, and you really begin to care for the flock. The author has an excellent voice, and kept me hooked the entire time. And the length is absolutely perfection. Explicit scenes are in later chapters, but are all marked and skippable if that's your thing.

Read it here, fic by HKBlack

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severeprincesheep · 1 month ago

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FAFO applied to the carnivore diet community

I want to make an observation about MAGA + carnivore diet in these trying times. Stay with me.

Very briefly, the carnivore diet is an elimination diet: you eat just meat for 90 days, after which you slowly start reintroducing foods, one at a time, back into your diet and gauging your body's reaction.

Some people find that after this purification they can still eat most of everything without getting symptoms, some find they are intolerant/allergic to some of the foods everybody's typically allergic to (peanuts, dairy, gluten, etc). Some find they're allergic to everything but meat and these are usually autoimmune patients, meaning they have a leaky gut which translates to lots and lots of food allergies. Some people who found they can eat whatever nonetheless stick to eating carnivore regardless because they just feel better this way.

Carnivore displeases mainstream medicine that still labours under the delusion created by bad and corrupt science that diet is irrelevant to your overall health, or that for health purposes you can never be too vegetarian. And carnivores are typically accused of being right-wing conspiracy believing ignoramuses, when in reality most are elderly people who only late in life arrived at this way of eating after decades of obediently listening to their doctors and following the dietary guidelines... with disastrous consequences to their health. They're not eating meat because Trump says so - Trump eats and drinks sugar all day long and all you have to do is look at him to know that this is true. They eat meat because it heals.

End preamble.

Having said that, it is very true that carnivore has formed an association with fascists like Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson, much like vegetarianism is associated with Socialism and "soy boys" and eco warriors. Most carnivores don't wear either their politics or religion on their sleeve at all, but those who do never identify as, say, Muslim or left-wing, they're always right-wing and Christian.

And yet the paradox is you will never find a more radically anti-consumerist, minimalist, anti-capitalist move than going full carnivore. I know it's never going to happen but in theory if everyone became a carnivore it would be a complete and unmitigated disaster for the world's economy. Think of all those crops and plants that would suddenly become pointless for anything other than feeding them to farm animals. A hamburger joint like MacDonald's, whose food offer is actually 90% plants and a sliver of meat, would be screwed. Add to that the fact that most carnivores practice OMAD (one meal a day) and fast the rest of the time and eat their one meal mostly at home and every restaurant is closed, every supermarket too.

Even if the transition from an omnivore, plant-based diet to a carnivore diet took place very gradually it would still mean that entire food empires that are dependent on stuffing you with seed oils, gluten and sugar every couple of hours would collapse. All those billionaires would go broke.

If the transition took place carefully it'd be brilliant for the world's health - but the food industry that makes you sick and the medical and pharmacological industry that depend on the money they make from unsuccessfully treating you for preventable diseases would lose an immense fortune, forever.

Which brings me to my point: MAGA guys, I know you. I know you wish the food pyramid were turned upside down. For years I've been hearing you decry the ignorance of doctors and the criminal greed of Big Pharma. I agree, it's bad. And I know, even though youtube won't let you say it and you only say it on Rumble, that you think Covid was created by a bat in a Chinese lab and was transmitted to people through vaccines. You're challenged.

And now you believe it's great that Trump has appointed Robert Kennedy Jr. to be his health secretary, because he's a psychopath who drove his ex-wife to commit suicide and because he's an antivaxxer - just like you. All the while you pointedly ignore that Trump also picked up Dr. Oz, famous plant-based diet guru who made Oprah fatter and sicker than ever.

But I know none of these appointments mean anything. Trump only follows the money, not some sort of higher calling to serve the people. So I know that whatever happens in the future will not be determined by these guys...

... but rather by whatever the money people, i.e. Big Pharma, mainstream medicine and the food industry, have to say on the matter.

For instance, it is possible that Big Pharma will allow Trump to get rid of vaccines. But only if they do the math and conclude that the money they lose by not selling those vaccines they'll more than make up by "taking care" of the sick. If that doesn't add up then Trump/Kennedy won't be allowed by that super powerful mega-billionaire industry to do a goddamn thing.

Prepare to see during the next years ahead the official guidelines change from telling kids to eat more fruit like Michelle Obama wanted (which is no good) to eating breakfast cereal every five seconds (which is worse).

You know I'm right.

I would agree that it's true enough that you wouldn't be any closer to your carnivore dreams if you had voted for Kamala instead. I don't even know what her diet is, except that she doesn't stuff herself every five minutes like Trump does, nor has she ever raped anyone. But at least your kids would still have Obamacare aka ACA - which should really have mattered to doctors in the carnivore sphere, who instead remained silent and did not use their platform to warn their viewers; and your kids would not be in danger of dying from the measles and other diseases preventable by vaccines. And under Kamala you would still be allowed to stuff them all you like with stakes.

But you couldn't suffer to have a woman of colour as your president. It all boils down to that. So you fucked around and now you're going to find out. I don't feel sorry for you but I do feel sorry for your victims.

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farmerstrend · 3 months ago

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Kenya Dairy Board’s 10-Year Plan: More Milk, Sustainability, and Climate Action

The Kenya Dairy Board unveils a 10-year plan to transform the dairy sector by focusing on sustainability, increasing milk production by 2.5 billion litres, and ensuring environmental and economic benefits for farmers. Kenya’s 10-year Dairy Industry Sustainability Roadmap aims to produce an additional 2.5 billion litres of milk annually, promoting sustainable farming, reducing greenhouse gas…

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catinheadlights · 2 years ago

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I regularly eat meat so maybe take this with a grain of salt, but I think when people try to "own" the concept of veganism with "facts and logic" as either a diet or a moral stance, they generally misunderstand what they're trying to criticize.

Like, you can say that the "real" problem with animal agriculture is capitalism encouraging animal abuse and factory farming, but like. Vegans know that's bad. That's not the only problem they have with the industry. You've got the slew of environmental problems it causes plus the whole, y'know, killing/exploiting animals thing that they don't like.

Someone who values the life of a chicken as equal to that of a human won't give two shits if it had a good life before being slaughtered, because to them it's the moral equivalent of killing a person for food. By saying that they're simply ✨wrong✨ for seeing a problem with the killing part, you're missing the entire point. "It had a good life" hardly means anything if you don't think of human life as inherently more valuable. You can disagree with that premise all you want, but you're not gonna change their minds.

I also challenge you to actually come up with an argument for why you feel human life inherently matters more than all nonhuman life, because I've never in my life seen a cogent argument for it that includes all humans and excludes all nonhumans. It's just that evolution hardwired that value into most people (including me, I agree). I think it's fine to feel that way and live accordingly, but you should know where your values come from. Vegans act on that too - getting rid of an infestation would be the equivalent of mass murder. This isn't a dig, by the way, it'd be impossible to have a decent quality of life if you stuck to "humans = nonhuman animals" completely.

I see people tossing around eggs and dairy as morally fine because they don't require killing the animals that produce them, but everyone seems to conveniently forget what they do to nearly all the males. It's not practical for farmers to keep all the males alive for their natural lifespan because they aren't economically useful. Some very small farmers might, but it's never going to happen on any remotely large scale. Something tells me that the "killing animals is bad" club isn't gonna be happy about that.

Also, I don't know what's up with people making shit up about domestication but:

Livestock was, in fact, domesticated. Yes, this includes laying hens. We'll breed anything for efficiency.

The purpose of domesticating an animal doesn't dictate what is morally okay to do with it (ex. if you bred dogs specifically to fight, it wouldn't make dogfighting more moral).

In a similar vein, no, factory farming never reduces the need for cropland, and the animal agriculture industry as a whole doesn't either (hint: it's mostly factory farming). I don't know where people get the idea that animals somehow magic nutrients/energy into existence, but a lot of crops are grown specifically for livestock feed, which is less efficient than growing crops directly for human consumption due to trophic levels and waste production. If you insist otherwise, please take a biology class.

I do think that putting so much focus on individual action is a bit silly considering how giant animal agriculture is as an industry and how heavily subsidized it is. Put some of that energy into changing policy please. It'd probably be more useful.

#I feel like emphasizing that humans are a type of animal might help with understanding vegans a bit if they baffle you for some reason #we're not all that exceptional when you think about it #although I think that having a consciousness is a better line than being part of the animal kingdom #also does anyone remember that post where someone convinced people that vegans think honey is ground up bees #people were so mad

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simmeringsccfinds · 2 years ago

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Mods Good For Medieval Gameplay

So I have had plenty of people ask me where I get my medieval CC for my Ultimate Decades Challenge on YouTube. I'm currently working on a video explaining this, but this post will be a great start for those who want to start their own medieval challenge. I'll be updating this page periodically as I play through my challenge. There will be tags for each period I play. Not everything I have in my game is listed on this post currently. Eventually everything in my game will be reblogged on this tumblr.

Build Mode

Moriel

Mother0f70

Sims4Medieval

SimVerses

TheSenseMedieval

TheSimsResource

MissChipsa

CAS

SimVerses

TheSenseMedieval

TheSimsResource

MissChipsa

Gameplay

100 Social Interactions

Archery Skill

Auto Shorter Teens

Blacksmith Career

Blacksmithing Skill

Book Texture Replacements

Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything

Control Any Sim

Create Yarns from Wool

Custom Harvestables

Dairy Production

Don't Wash Dishes Where You Angry Poop

DR Trash Assortment

Fireplace Lighter Replacement

First Impressions

Free-Range

Functional Broom

Functional Loom

Functional Pottery Wheel

Functional Silk Farm

Functional Water Pump

Harpsichord Skill

Happy Haunts

Healthcare Redux

Historical Mods by Zero

Home Region

Ignore Privacy

Life Manager

Life Tragedies

Limping Walkstyle

Lute Skill

Make Computers Obsolete

MC Command Center

Medieval Activities

Medieval Easel Paintings Replacement Defaults

Medieval Interactions

Medieval Mop

Medieval Retail Therapy Overhaul

Midwife Career

Missing Plumbob

More Woodworks

Nap on the Ground

No Bits/Pieces for Candles

NPCC

Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod

Playable Harp

Practice Sword Fighting

Present Box Override

Purchase Custom Animals

Purchase Herbalism Ingredients

Rambunctious Religions

Realistic Child Birth

Release Bladder Anywhere

Royalty Mod

Scrub Faster

Simple Living: Outdoor Retreat Campfire Fix

Soap Making Station

Steady Sit & Seat Any Sim

Sulani Hiders

Talents & Weaknesses

Tarox Medieval Toilet

Tartosa Hiders

Timeless Mod

TSM Community Voting Board

Wicker Making Station

Wonderful Whims

Write with Quills

Ye Olde Cookbook

#medieval #sims 4 #ts4 simblr #ts4ccfinds #ts4cc #simblr #the sims 4 #sims #medieval cc #medievalsims4

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secretariatess · 1 year ago

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The Milkmaids and the Partridge

So, because I usually write other world fantasy, where Christmas doesn't actually exist. So writing a fantasy Christmas story for me . . . wouldn't be undoable, I guess, but it would take a lot more work than I wanted to put in.

So the theme was "Twelve Days of Christmas," which is meant of the literal days of Christmas and not the song. But I'm being very loose with all of this and using inspiration from the song, and inspiration from the real Christmas story.

It's more of a fairy tale than anything, so hopefully it's enjoyable despite my liberties, lol. It's under 5k words (which is surprising for me!)

For the Christmas Inklings Challenge, @inklings-challenge

Once upon a time, in the Realm of the Ten Lords, there was a humble dairy farm on the outskirts of the town. This dairy farm, known to most as the Starry Night Farm due to its uniquely painted barn, was owned and run by eight milkmaids. These milkmaids were not sisters by blood, but considered themselves such all the same because of how close they got over the years. The start of their friendship is truly an interesting story, but it is not the story right now.

These milkmaids all lived in the space over the barn. It was not a very large space, as they did not have many cows, but it kept them warm and provided beds for them, so they were quite content with their lives. Their cows produced some of the finest milk in all the realm, and so they had met many a traveler seeking to taste the milk.

Now one of their duties was to make sure their pastures were fit for their cows. A good pasture led to happy, healthy cows, and that was part of their secret for their milk. The milkmaids took this task very seriously and always kept a sharp eye out for anything that might pose a danger to the cows.

It was one morning that Spirit, for that was the name of one of the milkmaids, noticed that there was a patch of foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture. Now see, foxtail was not very good for cows, as the spikelets of the foxtail could get into the noses and ears of cows and cause great harm. Spirit promptly got rid of it and thought that that was the end of it.

The next day, Comfort, another milkmaid, saw foxtail growing in the corner of the pasture, and she took care of it before any of the cows wandered over. Like Spirit, she thought that was the end of it. But the next day, and the day after that, all the milkmaids had encountered the foxtail, each believing that they were responsible for getting rid of it and not realizing that their fellow milkmaids had done the same thing.

It was not until Spirit saw the foxtail again, and this time, there was more of it. She said to her fellow milkmaids, “Dear sisters, see here- I have removed this foxtail but a little over a week ago and it has returned in a larger bunch.”

“You have removed it?” said Meek, another milkmaid who was normally quiet. “Why, I have removed it myself only a week past! It has returned already?”

“That is quite odd,” said Suffered, yet another one of the milkmaids. “For it twas only yesterday that I removed a patch of foxtail.”

It was then discovered that all of the milkmaids had removed a patch of foxtail. The rate of its growth alarmed them.

“Dear sisters, what should we do?” asked Patience, wringing her hands. “If it will only come back, and in larger amounts, removing it will get us nowhere!”

“Come now,” chided Righteous gently. “There is no use getting in a tizzy just yet. We will ask the Nine Ladies for their wisdom about what we should do.”

It was a very good idea, and the milkmaids agreed to trek into town at the end of the week. The Nine Ladies were fond of dancing, and held a dance every end of the week. They were married to the Ten Lords, save one. This Lord fancied his leaping, as the rest of the Lords were, but thought that getting married would only tie him down. He wanted to spend as many years as he could to leap as high as he could before he settled down and got married.

It was a jolly sight when they arrived. Half the townsfolk had arrived to participate in the dance, and the music was merry. For those who were not as nimble on their feet, or perhaps were recovering from having partners who were not as nimble on their feet, there was a large banquet set up for them to enjoy, courtesy of the Nine Ladies.

The milkmaids approached the table of the Nine Ladies, who were resting after spending only a few hours on the dance floor, and curtsied low to them, as one does to show respect to a noble. In truth, the milkmaids were not used to curtsying as they spent much of their time with their cows, and one does not curtsy to a cow. Because of this one or two of them thought they would tip over before they could straighten. Fortunately, they did not.

“Oh great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure, rising up from her curtsy and clasping her hands together as though she were praying. “We have come to implore you for your wisdom, as we are faced with a terrible problem and do not know how to get rid of it.”

“Speak girls,” said the Lady in the middle, whose cheeks were red and jolly, “and tell us what your problem is that we may help you.”

“Great Ladies of the Realm,” said Pure again, addressing them so that she may not be seen as rude, “we discovered a patch of foxtail growing in our pasture a little over a week ago. It was not too much of an issue for us, but we found out that it was growing every day, and recently we discovered that it has come back nearly twice the size. It is not good for our cows, and we are concerned about the damage it will cause them. What should we do about this foxtail that will not go away?”

“Oh, fear not!” said the Lady at the end on the right. “That is an easy enough fix. What you need is a partridge.”

“A partridge?” repeated Pure. She remembered her manners and quickly added, “Oh Great Lady?”

The Lady at the end on the left nodded cheerfully. “Truly! That is all you need. There is a partridge in the Garden of the Eleven Pipers- if you go to her, you may be able to persuade her to return with you. When she does, she will eat your foxtail, for that is what partridges like.”

The milkmaids all curtsied low at this advice.

“Great Ladies of the Realm, we thank you for your help,” said Pure. “We shall be ever grateful.”

“Now, now,” the Lady to the left of the Lady in the middle, “rise up and smile. Perhaps you will join us for some time in this dance!”

The milkmaids did as the Lady requested, and danced for joy at the solution to their problem. When they returned that night, for they spent many hours dancing, they prepared themselves for the journey to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers and put away their cows with a lot of hay to ensure their happiness.

The Garden of the Eleven Pipers was on the other side and would take a few days worth of travel to get there. The milkmaids had never been there themselves, but they had met people who had, and they were told it was a wonderful place. So they were excited to see its wonder and bring back the partridge. It was agreed to take a sack of seeds with them to present to the partridge in order to persuade her to return with them.

In the morning, they set off, singing to each other all sorts of joyous songs.

As they journeyed on, they came upon the Great Horned Owl.

The Great Horned Owl was sleeping, and was not happy with being disturbed from his slumber by their joyful singing. He settled on the side of the path, peering at them blearily with narrowed eyes as he tried to make them out.

“Too-hoo! What is this to-do?” he hooted, blinking slowly. The daylight bothered his eyes so.

“We are going to the Garden of the Eleven Pipers,” said Peace, stepping forward.

“The Garden of the Eleven Pipers?” hooted the Owl. “Too-hoo! That is a long journey.”

“It is only a few days,” said Peace. “It is not too long for us.”

“Too-hoo! I see,” said the Owl. “Now why would eight young milkmaids be going to the Garden of Eleven Pipers for? Is this part of the Realm not satisfactory for you?” The Great Horned Owl was a nosy fellow, and had to know about people moving about where they usually did not go.

“We are going to find a partridge,” said Peace. She showed him the basket they prepared for the partridge. The milkmaids had agreed that it would be much more comfortable for the partridge to sit in a cushioned basket than to be carried by their arms or walk the whole way back to the Starry Night Farm.

“A partridge? Too-hoo! What an odd thing to look for,” said the Owl.

“We need the partridge to help us with the foxtail in our farm,” said Peace. “It is growing at an alarming rate, and the Nine Ladies told us that a partridge will eat the foxtail.”

“Too-hoo! Is that true?” said the Owl. But the Owl was jealous. He prided himself with helping all who came across his path with his wide range of knowledge, and he did not like the idea of the milkmaids seeking help from another bird. Why wouldn’t the Nine Ladies send them to him? He could have figured out a solution to their problem.

“It is true!” confirmed Peace.

“Well then, too-hoo!” said the Owl, devising a plan. “When you come back, why don’t you show me the partridge before going back to the farm? I have some foxtail myself that I would like to get rid of. If this partridge can do it, than I would like to have some of her time.”

The milkmaids agreed, because they did not know that the Owl was scheming. He did not have any foxtail that was growing anywhere, so he certainly did not need the partridge for that. He instead hoped to eat the partridge whole, so he could remain the only bird to whom the humans asked for help. But the milkmaids could not have known this, for he was very convincing.

So they continued on their way. After a few days, they stood at the entrance of the Garden of the Eleven Pipers. No one really saw the Pipers at work in the Garden, but they knew they were there, somewhere among the plants and trees the Pipers grew. The Garden was enormous, and the Pipers allowed anyone in to come and rest, and to eat the fruit and vegetables of their garden. It was a refuge for many creatures and people without any other place to go.

But because it was so large, the milkmaids realized that it would take them quite a while to find the partridge. They wandered here and there, stepping around the carrot patches and the tomato plants, twisting their way around the apple trees and blueberry bushes, until they came upon a sparkling creek winding around the orange trees. In this creek were seven beautiful swans, swimming about and coming together to share some exciting information before drifting apart again to think of something else that had happened to them that week.

The milkmaids quietly approached, not wanting to startle the swans.

One of them took noticed and let out a welcoming honk. “Welcome, welcome! Now, what brings the eight of you lovely milkmaids here?” cried one of the swans.

“We are looking for a partridge,” said Meek, stepping in front of the other milkmaids. “We were told by the Nine Ladies that we could find her here, but we do not know where to look for her.”

“Oh, the partridge!” exclaimed the swan. “Oh yes, we know the partridge. She joins us for our weddings and birthdays, you know.”

“And when we have feasts!” piped another swan. “She is quite a lovely thing, and we certainly enjoy her company.”

“Perhaps you could point us in the right direction?” asked Meek. “We are beginning to feel quite lost.”

“Oh, but of course!” said the second swan. “Now, if you go down that way, you should come out to some very lovely banana trees. There are usually some geese there who know just about everyone here in the Garden. They will tell you where the partridge likes to go.”

“Thank you very much!” said Meek, and she meant it. For it is not every day that one gets lost in a giant garden. The experience was quite overwhelming.

The milkmaids followed the swan’s advice, and sure enough, they came across some banana trees with six geese who had made themselves quite cozy at the root of the trees. Their nests were big enough to hold fully grown humans, and they were made with the softest, finest things that the geese could find. The geese were very particular about their nests, for once every week, they would lay one egg. And then on the seventh day, they would all rest and care for the egg they laid.

They were resting on this day, sitting happily on the eggs they laid and dreaming of the gooseling they would get to meet shortly.

When the milkmaids arrived, they lifted their heads contentedly.

“Excuse us, madams,” said Mercy, stepping forward this time. “Perhaps you could tell where we might find the partridge? We were told that you would know.”

“Why, of course dear!” said the first goose. Her voice was that that only a mother could have when talking tenderly to a child. “We know exactly where she is. She likes to roost among the pear trees.”

“Thank you, kind madams,” said Mercy, giving a little curtsy. She did not know if it was proper to do so, but it felt wrong to not do so. Her fellow milkmaids followed suit, giving the geese a respectful curtsy. “Perhaps you could tell us where the pear trees are? We are new to the Garden, and do not know our way around.”

“Oh, you poor dears,” fussed the second goose. “Wandering around the Garden, and no idea of how to get anywhere? It is a wonder you got this far then, I shouldn’t wonder. We would take you ourselves if it weren’t for the fact that we mustn’t leave these eggs alone. The Garden is safe, but it never hurts to be careful.”

“Well, I shan’t tell them to go alone,” said the third goose. “I would not want them to wander off and get lost again. Even with the best directions you can always take a wrong step, and next thing you know, you’re in the pumpkin patch!”

“No need to worry,” said the fourth goose calmly. “We shall send the calling birds with them. They will know where to go, and can stay with the girls so that they do not get lost. Now, you must wait for them,” she told the milkmaids sternly.

The milkmaids agreed and settled themselves by the geese while the fifth goose let out a loud honk to tell the calling birds to come to them. While they waited, the milkmaids told the geese of their mission, and the foxtail that was growing in their pasture. The geese sympathized with their plight and fussed over the long journey that the milkmaids had to take to get the Garden. The milkmaids let the geese fuss over them, for it was better to let the geese care for them and not to tell them that they did not need the care. As it was, it felt nice to be cared for. The geese made sure they still had enough food and water to continue on, and to make it back home.

The two calling birds arrived shortly after the geese confirmed that the milkmaids would be able to travel quite comfortably.

“Greetings!” said the first calling bird. “We heard that someone is in need of our service?”

“Yes, yes, these poor dears are looking for the partridge,” said the second goose. “They are quite lost, as it is their first time in the Garden. Would you be so kind as to escort them to the pear trees so that they do not get lost?”

“Most certainly!” said the second calling bird. He swept into a bow as only a bird could. “We can bring you straight to the partridge! However, we must tell you, that you will have to wait until nightfall to speak with her. For she is a very busy bird and does not come to rest until night.”

“We can most certainly wait,” assured Mercy, giving the calling birds a curtsy in turn. All this curtsying was making her legs tired. She was not used to having to do this.

“Right this way, then!” said the first calling bird. He took off from the branch where he had landed and swiftly wove between the trees. The second calling bird only took off when the milkmaids had started to follow, occasionally flying behind them or perching on their shoulder. The first calling bird stopped when he had gone far enough, making sure the milkmaids knew where to go. The second calling bird stayed with them to make sure they did not take a wrong turn and get lost. He also had a very good singing voice and knew a great deal of songs, many of which he taught the milkmaids as they made their way to the pear trees.

It was early evening when they arrived. The calling birds brought them directly to the pear tree where the partridge would rest. The milkmaids rested their weary legs underneath the tree. Even though they tried to maintain a conversation with the calling birds, they eventually became too tired and fell asleep.

They were awoken by a bright light from above them. Looking up as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they saw light from a very bright star as a partridge came to rest in the branches of the pear tree above them. She peered down at them curiously.

“It is not every night that I come to find visitors beneath my tree,” said the partridge. “What brings you here?”

“O Great Partridge,” said Comfort. She used such great titles because that is how one addresses the Ladies. And if this partridge was to save them from their foxtail problem, it was only logical to refer to her like this. “We have come to plead for your help. Our farm has a problem with foxtail- my sisters and I have all pulled it up, but it keeps returning. We were told by the Nine Ladies that you would be able to help us.”

Peace held up the offering of nuts. “We have brought you these as part of our request to come back with us,” said Peace. “If you do, we will be forever indebted to you, for the foxtail is harmful to our cows, and our cows are our livelihood.”

The partridge looked quite pleased with the request. But not a pleased where she looked proud, but rather a pleased that she was happy they had asked her. “Of course, daughters, I will come with you and take care of your foxtail. Now settle yourselves back to sleep so you are rested for the journey. In the morning, we shall head out.”

The milkmaids thanked her profusely and settled back into sleep.

In the morning, when they were still rising from their slumber and getting themselves ready to go, they were approached by three hens who prided themselves with knowing a language known as “French,” which was spoken in a realm very far from the Realm of the Ten Lords. Though there were some who suspected that the hens had just made up a language of gibberish and claimed that it was real to make themselves seem well educated, especially since they could not speak any known languages besides the common tongue.

But these hens were not here to boast of their language skills. Instead, they looked quite concerned. “Dear mademoiselles, you must not return the way you came,” they told the milkmaids.

“Why is that?” asked Suffered.

“We have it on good authority that the Great Horned Owl is expecting you,” they informed them. “But he is not looking to get rid of foxtail, as he had told you. He was sharing with some of his friends how much he was going to enjoy partridge for dinner someday. If you return the way you came and meet with the Great Horned Owl, he will surely eat the partridge.”

“Oh dear,” said Meek. “That is something that we cannot let happen! But then, how are we to return?”

“There is a hamlet of twelve drummers,” they told the milkmaids. “Up in the hills, south of the Garden. If you go to them, they will provide you a way home.”

The milkmaids thanked the hens for their advice. They tucked the partridge all nice and cozy in the basket they brought for her, supplying her with their offering of nuts. They then followed the hens’ advice and headed south out of the Garden.

It was a hard journey to the hamlet. It consisted only of twelve houses and one meeting house. Each building sat on a hill of its own, and each hill was steep. The drummers, who were not drummers by trade, would sit outside of their houses and drum with each other. They only left their hills when they had to go to the meeting house to discuss important things that oculd not be said yelling across the dips between hills.

When the milkmaids arrived, such an event demanded the use of the meeting house. The drummers saw them from a long way off and were waiting for them there already. The milkmaids collapsed on the ground, too tired from the journey to show proper decorum to the drummers. Tearfully, the milkmaids told the drummers of their plight. The drummers comforted them, telling them that they were safe. The drummers provided for them blankets and makeshift beds so they could sleep in the meeting house. Before bed, both the drummers and the milkmaids ate a lovely dinner of fruits, nuts, vegetables, and meat that each drummer harvested from his own hill. The partridge remained in her basket, happily observing the dining.

In the morning, the drummers came to the milkmaids. They presented them with five golden rings.

“These are magic rings,” said one of the drummers, who used congas. “We use them when we want to leave the hills. They will take you back to your home without the Great Horned Owl’s knowledge.”

The milkmaids thanked them as profusely as they thanked the hens. They all partnered with another of the milkmaids, with Pure carrying the basket with the partridge. One of the drummers, the one who played a timpani, accompanied them to show them how to use the rings and to take the rings back home after ensuring they got back safely.

When they arrived at the Starry Night Farm, the milkmaids further showed their gratitude by gifting the timpani drummer with twelve bottles of their finest milk.

They set the partridge amongst the foxtail, which had overtaken the whole pasture in their absence. The partridge immediately set to work, eating away at all the foxtail. When enough of it had been eaten, the milkmaids let the cows out, who had been safely shut away.

Unbeknownst to the milkmaids, the Great Horned Owl realized that they were not going to return the way they came. Enraged by their trickery, he himself flew to the Garden in hopes of finding the partridge. Not knowing what a partridge looked like, he made sure to eat all the quail and grouse who considered themselves safe in the Garden. When he realized that he still had not caught the partridge, he headed back to the Starry Night Farm to exact his revenge.

The milkmaids were out in the pasture tending to their cows when the Owl arrived. Talons spread, he swooped towards Spirit, who cried out in fear. Her fellow milkmaids rushed to save her, but it was the partridge who jumped out in front of Spirit.

The partridge fought fiercely, caring not that the Owl was bigger than her, nor that his talons were sharp and made to snatch her up. To the Owl’s great surprise, she was stronger than she appeared and above all, determined.

Just as the sun started to sink beneath the trees, the battle ended. The Owl dragged himself away from the site of the battle into the uneaten foxtail and died from his wounds.

The partridge remained where she was, beaten, bruised, and bloodied. The milkmaids rushed to her side to find that she was already dead.

The milkmaids wept bitterly, placing her in the basket that had been serving as her bed. They brought the basket into the barn where they mourned the whole night. Their tears exhausted them and they fell asleep around the basket.

Morning came and peered through the slats of the barns. The milkmaids blinked awake in its gaze. There, in the middle of the largest sunbeam, sat the partridge, alive and well! The milkmaids cried out in amazement and happiness.

“O Great Partridge!” gasped Righteous. “We thought you were surely gone! How joyous is it that you are not!”

“Death could not keep me, daughter, after such a sacrifice,” said the partridge. “I said I would take care of your foxtail, and I am not one to go back on my promises.”

With great rejoicing, the milkmaids returned the pasture with partridge. The carcass of the Owl was thrown out by the road, where worms, scavengers, and flies discovered it. The partridge remained with the milkmaids and ate their foxtail. The cows continued to be healthy and happy, and produced even finer milk than before.

For now, at least, they lived happily ever after.

#inklingschallenge #christmas inklings challenge

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