#apothecary au

[heliixtrqe]

Detective Conan x Apothecary Diaries

What if conan and maomao work together to solve a case 🫶🫶🫶

[j-liz]

If Jinshi managed to tell her before they got shot at, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t do this.

MaoMao whenever Jinshi is in the room despite respecting her sister’s profession:

[gemjewlerybox]

Batfam x apothecary diaries reader

LITERALLY LIKE HOLD ON the Wayne clan is basically the La clan and a maomaoreader would totally makes sense cause it fits ever other neglected reader troupe where Bruce and readers mom slept together and reader is born without Bruce knowing until way later

So like the regular events happen, reader becomes a apothecary and becomes obsessed with poison (I love maomao so much doabocjakfhoan) and end up in the rear and outer palace where she is discover by the Wayne clan

When Bruce discovers reader is in fact his daughter boom instant yandere. Basically Lakan times 10x. And ofc reader is NOT FUCKING WITH IT NOT AT ALL

Fuck you mean you want for me to become your daughter and I have 4+ brothers??? Nah I’m good I already have my dad and sisters from the brothel.

I don’t know how the Wayne family is going to operate in this au considering I’m placing them somewhere that’s completely out of their own story. But it’s a fun thought.

[megumismyhusband]

you were so excited when you got accepted as the court apothecary’s apprentice.

you told everyone. your family, your friends, the neighborhood cat. even the bread vendor lady who always gave you the misshapen rolls. “i’m gonna work under seishiro nagi,” you said, practically bouncing in place. “he’s the best herbalist in the entire kingdom.”

you imagined he’d be this calm, relaxed mentor type. all long robes and elegant handwriting and gentle wisdom, with shelves full of perfectly labeled jars and scrolls full of ancient remedies.

you were wrong.

so very wrong.

because seishiro nagi, as it turns out, is the most unbothered, sleepy, useless mentor in the history of herbalism.

you showed up on day one with your sleeves rolled up and your notebook ready, and he was napping on the bench. he didn’t even wake up when you knocked. just gave a slow, lazy wave from where he was lying and muttered, “you can get started without me.”

and it never ever got better.

he made you organize the shelves. you sorted the dried herbs. you restocked the supplies. youprepared all the teas and pastes and powders while he lounged around chewing on mint leaves like a goat.

he’d occasionally point at something from the floor and go, “that one goes with the fevergrass,” or “don’t forget to dry the nettle,” but that was the extent of his teaching.

you once caught him fast asleep with an open book resting on his face and a half-chopped root still on the cutting board. like he started working, got bored halfway through, and just decided unconsciousness was the way to go.

you complained. several times. to him, to yourself, to the basil plants. didn’t matter. he never changed.

until one random morning.

you walked into the apothecary just like always, mentally preparing to do everything yourself, and—

he was already up. working.

you froze in the doorway. “did… something explode?”

nagi looked over at you, deadpan. “no.”

“…are we expecting guests?”

“no.”

“…are you possessed.”

“no.” he mumbled, slicing ginger with slow, uneven motions. “don’t worry about it.”

you hovered awkwardly behind him. “uh. okay. well, i’ll just finish up the drying racks, and—”

“nope.”

he turned, blocking you with his body.

you blinked. “what do you mean ‘nope’?”

“i’m doing everything today.”

“…why?”

he shrugged. “why not.”

you stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded. “are you punishing me? did i break something?”

“no.”

“then what—”

“you work too hard,” he said simply, like it was obvious.

“i wonder why.” you mutter.

“hm?” he looks up from the knife in his hand.

“you’re the reason i grind three pounds of root a day while you nap with a daisy up your nose.”

in response to your rambling he gave you a look. “you grind it wrong when you’re mad. the texture’s all lumpy.”

you glared. “that’s your problem?”

“and,” he added, real quiet, like he was trying not to say it at all, “i dunno. it’s annoying when you’re tired.”

“…what?”

“you make those sigh noises. like a wet sad puppy.”

you blinked at him.

“plus,” he said, almost like an afterthought, “maybe i wanted to impress you today or something.”

you blinked harder. “what.”

“nothing,” he said quickly. “go sit down. i made you tea.”

and just like that, he was back to acting like none of this was even remotely unusual.

you sat down. still incredibly confused. still staring. sipping the nicely brewed tea that tasted slightly like bark.

but you didn’t complain.

because for once in all your months of being his apprentice, seishiro nagi was working.

maybe it was because he didn’t mind working if it was for you. but who knows.

[sister-lucifer]

An Epoch of Horticulture: Chapter One

[Masterlist] 

Ticci Toby x Gender Neutral Reader 

Genre: Slow burn, fluff 

Summary: An odd figure slinks into your apothecary on a rainy day 

Content/warnings: Profanity, a bit of awkward conversation, my personal headcanons about Toby + his disabilities, I made up some magic fantasy plants for this so don’t think too hard about it, thankies 

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.  

The rain has been falling nonstop since dawn. Not once has the endless patter of water on the roof of your apothecary ceased, or even slowed. Now and then you glance out the window at the stubborn clouds, willing them to move, but they refuse. 

You’ve busied yourself with menial tasks today; scrubbing the counter, reorganizing your tools, alphabetizing your seeds. Despite your silent hope, though, not one customer has come through. Bad weather means no foot traffic—you know that, but it’s still a fair bit disappointing. For the fifth time today, you debate closing up shop early. You can’t help feeling a bit dejected. It’s not easy running a small business like this, and every sale matters. 

Your little apothecary is quaint, but you’ve poured your heart and soul into making it exactly to your vision. On the front of the building is your hand-painted sign, the name “The Zenith” proudly proclaimed in a perfect forest green, and by the door sits your rainwater catchers. Inside, you’ve stacked the shelves full of anything that can be potted, and racks for drying herbs and flowers hang on either side of the shop. Behind your counter, on the furthest wall, are locked cabinets for keeping the more expensive wares, and you even have your own greenhouse through the back door. This place means so much to you—seeing it so empty is disheartening. 

You heave a heavy sigh as you trudge to the door, deciding to just give up for today. The rain shows no signs of stopping, and that means no one will be coming in. You can always try again tomorrow, right? 

You reach up to turn the sign on the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ Just as your fingers touch the wood, though, you pause. An odd sound has caught your attention. You only recognize it as the sound of frantic footsteps on the wet cobblestone for a split second. 

In a flash, a dark figure appears from out of the gloom. You barely manage to move out of the way before the door swings open. You almost wince, worried it may come off the hinges, or perhaps knock the bell off its hook. 

A tall man rushes in, stumbling like a fawn on ice and nearly getting a bit too friendly with the ground. You watch him gain his bearings, not taking your eyes off him as you quickly shut the door back. He huffs as if he can’t catch his breath. 

Your eyes slowly scan him from the bottom up as you try to discern if you’ve seen him before. His thick, leather boots are clearly worn from use, and caked in mud that’s left a filthy trail on your floor. His baggy work pants are equally weathered, with patches of scrap fabric messily stitched on in random places. He wears a navy windbreaker half zipped over a ratty, brown hoodie, and when your gaze gets to the edge of his sleeve you can see that he’s wearing gloves. He pulls his hood down off his head—good heavens, he’s paler than death—and shakes out a curly thatch of brunette hair. You could liken him to a big dog shaking off its coat. 

He turns to face you, boots squelching in the small puddle he’s created around his feet. The bandage on his cheek crinkles as his face stretches with a crooked smile. Your attention is momentarily drawn to the one chipped tooth he keeps running his tongue over. 

“Not ex-exactly the bess-ss-t day to be— b-be—bop! Bopop!—out and about, h-huh— huh?” he says with a chuckle, followed by several clicks of his tongue in an odd rhythm. You nod in agreement, still a bit too startled by his sudden entrance to reply. One of his hazel eyes scans the shelves with curiosity; the other, you notice, struggles to follow it. 

After a second more of silence, you snap out of your surprise. 

“Oh, let me take your coat,” you say quickly, reaching up to take the windbreaker off him. He happily complies, pulling the striped sleeves of his hoodie free from the jacket. It continues to drip as you hook it on the rack. You make a mental note to do some good mopping later. 

You turn back to your guest, only to find him on the other side of the room. He’s crouched in front of a pot of sour brandy, eyeing it intensely. He leans in to sniff the opening of the pitcher-like flower. 

“You don’t wanna do that!” You call out, but you aren’t fast enough. He winces and groans in disgust, rising to his feet so fast he nearly falls. You have to choke back a laugh. 

“Sorry,” you say with a barely disguised giggle, “you might wanna avoid smelling random plants in here. That’s sour brandy.” 

You pick up a pamphlet from your counter and hold it out to him. 

“It’s known for its incredibly acerbic taste, and is usually used to, uh…expel irritants from the stomach. Here—this will tell you everything you need to know about that sort of thing.” 

He huffs, like he’s trying to push the smell out of his nose. He takes the pamphlet from you, but only flips through it for a few seconds before folding it in two and shoving it into his pocket. Well, okay then… 

“…Um, anyways,” you continue as you move behind your counter, “welcome to The Zenith. What can I get for you today?” 

He only stares back at you like you’ve just spoken another language. You’re about to repeat yourself when you’re interrupted by a sudden jerking of his neck. It pops in a way that surely must be painful, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Just a ss-second,” he replies, holding up one hand while the other pats around his pockets. One side of his face twitches as he digs into his hoodie. After a bit of searching, he pulls out a slip of paper, unfolding it and pushing it across the table towards you with a shaky hand. 

Some ink comes off on your fingers as you pick it up. The words are a bit smudged with raindrops, but it’s readable enough, even with the pompous cursive handwriting. You nearly scoff as you scan the list of plant names; it’s all high-end herbs and rare flowers, even a few species you need certain credentials to own. Fortunately, you do. 

“Looks like someone’s planning a party,” you comment absentmindedly. You rifle through the keys on your belt for a moment before grabbing the one you’re looking for. 

“Oh, uh, it-it��s not for me,” the man explains, suddenly looking sheepish as he watches you unlock one of the cabinets on the back wall of the store, “my, uh, mm-m-my bosses have—click! Clickick-ick! Fuck off!—h-have this big…thing—I dunno what it is, really—going on this-ss-s weekend.” 

You give a hum of acknowledgment without looking away from what you’re doing. Briefly, you run your eyes over the various pouches of herbs sitting on the cabinet shelves, then look back down at the list. You grab each bag one by one as you read the names. 

Sailor’s red, sunflick, vylar…they better know what the hell they’re doing. 

You let out a low whistle as you close up the cabinet. Talk about crazy rich people. This mix of stuff could lay you out flat for days. The man seems to notice your expression. 

“W-What’s wrong?” he stammers with a tilt of his head. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you reply with a shrug, “just, uh, this stuff is more intense than I usually go for.  I sure hope your bosses know how to prepare this sort of thing, you can’t just be throwing this into your salad…” 

He laughs—it’s a scratchy sort of warble, and it makes you grin in return. He reaches up to itch the back of his neck, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his tongue. 

You drop the pouches onto the counter before moving on to the next part of your list, and to one of your shelves. While you’ve several attractive flowering plants, you notice that the types requested are quite renowned for their beautiful blooms, and all in white and yellow. You also notice, though, that many of them are incredibly high maintenance, and will die within the week if not attended to with utmost care. 

For some reason, it’s a bit hard to conjure a flattering image of these people. 

You’re almost hesitant to let your darlings go when you know in your heart they won’t be properly loved. 

Despite your woes, you gather the pots all the same. When you turn to walk back to your counter, you catch eyes with the man for a split second. He nearly jumps out of his skin before quickly putting his head down and pretending to be very interested in his shoes. 

You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. You brush it off for now, deciding it probably isn’t all that significant; he’s a rather awkward one, after all. 

You set the flowers down on the counter, then look back at the list. The last few items aren’t kept in the front of the shop. 

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” you tell the man with a polite smile, “I need to grab a few things out of the greenhouse for you.” 

“Huh?” he barks. He was looking right at you, but it seems he wasn’t really paying attention. 

“Uh, yeah, that—th-that’s okay,” he adds quickly, a few of his knuckles popping as they flex in an unnatural manner. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets his eyes wander idly about the store. 

As you make your way back into the greenhouse, a nagging feeling in the back of your mind starts to bloom. The tall stranger has definitely caught your attention. He couldn’t be any older than 25, but he looks worked to the bone. Despite that, you think as you pluck a few fruits from a caerulem tree, he’s got the charm of an awkward teenager. He shambles about like his body is new, or perhaps like three raccoons pretending to be a person. The idea amuses you more than you’d like to admit. 

When you return to the shop, bag of assorted fruits in hand, the man has already found something else to be interested in. He’s gingerly toying with the cap of a spongy mushroom, occasionally glancing at the pamphlet you gave him earlier. Cross-referencing, presumably. He looks up like a deer in headlights when he hears you drop the bag on the counter. 

He shoves the pamphlet back into his pocket with even less care than last time before rushing over to you like an excited child. He puts his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward a bit more than is usually socially acceptable. 

“Didja get it?” he asks, lazy eye twitching and scrunching a bit. 

“Yessir,” you reply with a quick nod and wide eyes. He seems to realize he’s overstepped a bit, and pushes back. 

He starts searching around in his pockets again.

“So, uh, h-how much will—dammit! Goddammit!—will th-th-that be?” 

You take a moment to count up everything on the counter. It’s quite the haul, that’s for sure. Good news for you. 

“…An even 80,” you declare. 

He swiftly pulls something from his pocket and smacks it into the table. When he moves his hand away, you can see it’s a drawn note for…two hundred? 

You resist the urge to groan in frustration. You begrudgingly open your register to retrieve the man’s change, but he stops you. 

“T-They said to just let— l-let you keep the cheque!” he sputters as quickly as he can. 

That makes you quirk a brow. 

“Um…are you sure?” you ask, “This is over double what this stuff is worth.” 

The man shrugs and kicks at the ground. “They do that s-ss-sort of thing all th-the—shrrrk!—all the time. ‘s not like they can’t aff-aff-afford it, ‘n’ they wanna make sure the—t-the—go away! Go away!—make sure the sh-shhh-shopkeepers like them.” 

A beat of silence passes as you mull that over. 

“…I sh-shhhouldn’t have said that,” the man mumbles. His lips quirk up in an awkward grin. Of course, you naturally return the gesture, and mime zipping your lips. You could swear it makes his restless shoulders relax a bit. 

You put the cheque away before reaching for one of the pots. Just as you pick it up, the man’s hands come down on yours and hold them still. 

“Woah, hold on, w-what-what are you doing?” 

You stutter, not sure how to answer. 

“Uh…I was just gonna help you carry some of these. You walked here, right? Can’t be that far. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is gonna be coming in with this weather.”

He shakes his head vehemently, pulling the flower away from you. 

“No way, I-I got this-ss-s,” he insists with an admirable amount of confidence. 

You open your mouth to protest, but you’re too impressed by the display that follows to speak. You’re not sure how, but he manages to scoop everything up into his arms. You nearly jump over the counter just in case he falls. He’s like a tower of blocks struggling to keep its balance. 

By some miracle, he manages, and before you know it he’s headed to the door. You go to open it for him, but don’t get the chance. He lifts a boot and hooks it under the horizontal door handle to pull it open. You hold it open for him, but only really to feign helpfulness as he sprints out into the rain. 

“Have a good day!” you call, and he gives a reply you can’t understand through the rain. He quickly disappears into the gloom. 

You step back inside, alone in your shop once more.  

“…Nice guy,” you mutter to yourself. You turn to head back to your counter, but something catches your eye: 

His windbreaker is still hanging on the rack! 

Frantically pulling it from the hook, you rush out into the rain without thinking. You call out to nothing as you run in the direction you think he went, realizing you never got his name. There’s no sound but the rain on the concrete. 

You slow to a stop when it becomes clear your efforts are for naught.  

You look down at the jacket, watching as the rain rolls off of it. Briefly, you debate still running after him, but think better of it. Even if you did find him, he’d probably be weirded out that a stranger chased him down over a windbreaker. 

Well, you can’t stand in the rain forever. You sigh as you turn back around to head back to the shop. 

Surely, he’ll be back…right?

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.

[the-deal-breaker]

It was supposed to be a joke au

Ah dou Feng Xin has taken over my life.

My apothecary diaries x tgcf AU now has ideas.

IDEAS!

How dare they!

Now I need to figure out who Maomao should be!

And if Hua Cheng should be the Jade consort or the child cause he's the only one with a clear age difference.

[stardust948]

Apothecary AU

Iroh: I'm sure you're excited, brother. The baby will be here before you know it.

Ozai: I hope so. Going through withdrawal is hard.

Iroh: I understand. You know, there are other ways to please each other before you and Ursa can be intimate again.

Ozai: What? Not that. I meant Ursa’s experiments. Strictly no poison or weird plants until the baby is weaned.

Iroh: Well, she is a healer. She should know better than anyone else.

Ozai: Yes but-

Ozai to Ursa on the other side of the room: SPIT IT OUT!

Ursa, with her mouth full: It’s not technically lethal.

Ozai: Spit. It. Out.

Ursa: Ugh. *spits out flower*

Iroh: I stand corrected.

[niktoakanne]

The more I watch the apothecary diaries the more I find myself wondering if and how Maomao and Victorique (Gosick) would become friends.

[kataswyq]

A NOBLE MASQUERADE

main pairings :: maomao x jinshi, xiaolan x basen

genre :: mystery, romance, fluff, angst, denial // dense protagonists !

PROLOGUE : In the empire’s quieter provinces, noble houses rise and fall with curious speed, their fortunes tied to marriages that seem too convenient, too well-timed. When strange rumors reach the palace, Maomao is sent under a false name, part of a small, disguised household led by the ever-unsettling “Master Enji.” What begins as a simple favor soon pulls them into the quiet rot beneath polite society—where nothing is quite what it seems.

promise i’ll post chapter 1 -2 this week still working on polishing it they’ll probably be at least 6k words together but my goal is 4.5k words for each chapter and i think i’ll post like 25ish chapter my goal is to make it similar to the light novel after like volume 6 so this is like an au volume 7 lol but yea i don’t think it’s really spoilers for the light novels but you have been warned so please like or leave a note if you want to be tagged in chapter 1 !! i really love any support i receive and any like suggestions that people have im super open ! i hope someone enjoys this and not only me because its like a little bit of a passion project for me lol

[apothecaryau]

Apothecary Muffet & Lust Design

Some more characters for the Apothecary AU. Here's not only Muffet's design but also Lust's design. Muffet is from undertale. While Lust Sans was made by NSFWShamecave. Though Skele-cakes was given permission to continue the AU. If I've put the wrong people for who created Lust sans let me know so I can fix that. Also I've got two other lust variants that I'm working on that I've nicknamed Sin (Lustfell swap Sans) and Hearts (Lustfell Sans).

Yes I'm putting the these two character together mostly cause I was working on them at the same time. Plus they work in the same place.

Here is Apothecary Muffet's design. I took some Giant Golden orb weaver spider insperation. Not with the colors but with some things like the strips. I also did take away one set of arms and gave her spider legs on her back instead.

Muffet is the owner of the Demon's temptations Brothel. She is 50 years of age. Her little mochi spiders hide among the snacks that are served to make sure that those visiting the brothel aren't going against the rules or hurting anyone that works & lives in the brothel. Her giant pet muffin spider. I turned into a nerikiri spider.

She has those that are unable to pay work for her. And if they try to get out of paying. Kiri (the Nerikiri spider pet) gets a little treat. She and many of the workers in the brother raise Nightmare as if he was their own child. Getting the title Step Mother Muffet, or SMM for short. She does not allow any of the customers to try anything to Nightmare as he was growing up.

I tried giving Muffet some interesting features to her design. Like how her feet look, and the little.. mandibles? I think that's what their called on the sides of her face.

Here is Apothecary Lust's design!

Lust works under Muffet as a Brothel monster. He is 38 years of age and has been working at the Brothel for 22 years. When he was 16 years of age he was not only very sick but he and some others were taken from their home and were being sold off to others as servants. Muffet had managed to find the carriage that was carrying him and all the others and used Kiri to free them from their captive. Many that were freed left to try and return home, some staid behind and got jobs, while 4 staid with Muffet as she took Lust to heal.

Once Lust was well enough he promised to work for Muffet to not only pay off for all the medicine and care that was used on him, but to also start saving up to live a comfortable life.

He works with Sin, Hearts, Blitz, and Flame (I'm working on their designs at the moment). The 4 that staid behind and went with Muffet. He and Flame (underlust Grillby) are both in a relationship but they also work at the brothel together. Hearts and Blitz are together as well. The group started off by not doing much aside from serving tea and snacks to the guests. As they got older Muffet and the other Brothel residents helped teach them everything else they needed to know for the job. Though Hearts isn't a big fan of that part of the job and mostly serves snacks, tea, and plays games with others.

Lust sees Nightmare as a child of his own. Same with every other Brothel member. Helping him learn how to read and write.

Hopefully I'll have a draft to the first page of the mini comic stories I'm working on. So enjoy the story drafts for those mini comics, and these character designs!

[lucygriefer]

Apothecary AU Nightmare doodle

Working on an idea for the Apothecary AU Avatar cover. Still need to also think of what to do for the blog cover... eh focus on the avatar for now me.

Le progress~ from the base sketch to slowly darkening the outline and slowly adding on more and more details.

Anyways I'm gonna be making a colored pencil version along with a digitally colored version. Nightmare is holding some evergreen azaleas. These flowers can be found in Japan and are toxic/poisonous to people.

I might add a few more evergreen azaleas there.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

HIGHLIGHTS FROM THIS EPISODE OF MONDAY NIGHT FRESH

MAOMAO GETS CALLED OUT! (PART 2)

Previously, Maomao (The Apothecary Diaries) was confronted by Misa Amane (Death Note) during one of her promos. The confrontation started when Maomao announced to the audience that she wasn’t here to make friends, she was only here to climb the ladder and become the next ABW Women’s Champion. Misa, not taking kindly to Maomao’s words, called her a young gun who is talking too much for someone who had just joined the roster recently.

Maomao fired back with…

[moonshinebr27]

Apothecary diaries posts

-Fanfics

Fanfic Golden hour

Fanfic Goodnight

Fanfic Lazy Kisses

Fanfic Nsfw alphabet

-Headcanon

married headcanon

-Posts

Jinshi and Maomao name´s

Flowers, symbols and their meanings,part 1

Flowers, symbols and their meanings,part 2

Flowers, symbols and their meanings,part 3

[xxbuzzzxx]

Hiya! I’m looking to do a The Apothecary Diaries Roleplay, I’ve only watched the anime so far!

I would prefer to do an Oc x Canon , I can double! I can play just about anyone you’d like. In return I would like to pair my OC with Jinshi.

If not, I’m also open to oc x oc within the series but a bit more selective with that.

Either way I would love to plot and come up with ideas!!

Some basic rules-

- don’t control my character

- be 18+ as I am 20 and not comfortable with interacting with minors!

- no one liners please, at least a paragraph would be nice so I have something to go off of, I am lazy / semi lit.

In general, I’m fine with dark themes and nsfw stuff as long it’s not the sole focus and natural- but I also like fluff and whatnot too. I’d like to know your limits and triggers as well so I don’t cross them in case, more so I’m laid back and usually just follow what the other prefers!

Anyways! Thank you for your time, if you are interested my discord is:

x__buzz__x

my dms don’t work on here so you’re better off contacting me there, or commenting.

[stardust948]

TF you mean the weird herbs peasant girl is so naturally beautiful she has to nerf her own face???

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

Let's see; an apothecary AU for any fandom of your choice?

Any fandom I choose? Guess I'll go with Voltron (Plance & Shallura, for kicks)

Pidge is an apothecary with an interest in the chemical science and would be chosen to be part of a "collection of scholars" that would be recruited by Princess Allura, of the country of Altea, to help cure her ailing father.

The "scholar" from Cuba is not really a scholar; he's only the scholar's younger brother Lance, who impersonated his brother after his death. Pidge finds out when Lance fumbles a factoid about what's supposed to be his specialty (herbology).

Shiro is an army surgeon from Japan who met Allura when the two were at the same university. There seems to be a romance brewing between them, apparent to all but Lance.

Hunk is a "culinary genius" who's role is to concoct a new diet for the ailing king

Lance initially has eyes for the Princess, but soon begins to grow affectionate with Pidge as she helps cover for him.