#prince of parsnips

[reneesbooks]

WIP Intro: Hurts, Doesn't It?

I figured it was about time I introduced the novel I'm working on for Camp Nano :)

Will's a florist, not an expert on politics, but he knows a few things: the Executive runs things from the Capitol, which was rebuilt after the Second Civil War, and eventually his son will be the Executive. He never thought about it much; he was focused on going to NYU for botany and horticulture and the Olympics for archery. But now? Now, he's in prison for smuggling forged art (which he didn't do) and all his cellmates want to talk about it how the government is horrible and the Resistance (terrorists) are actually the good guys.

Enter Kat Barrick--the girl who got Will put in prison in the first place. When she breaks him out and offers her help getting him home, he is reasonably skeptical. Despite her secrets, she is trying to help him. He'll give her a chance to get him home. But as he learns more about her world and the truth behind his history books, he begins to wonder if home is still within reach.

my baby my novel that i've been writing for years my beloved. here are the main characters (picrew used):

Will Moore: He's a florist from Jersey who did NOT sign up for any of this. that's okay, though. he's figuring it out. His favorite hobbies are archery and talking to people about flowers. He will find a way to mention the fact that he's a florist in any conversation. wants to go to the olympics but already won the himbolympics

Kat Barrick: she's an art forger who ran away from home at seventeen and supports her family by selling her paintings on the black market. yes she throws knives no you don't get to know where she learned to. not here to fuck around, just trying to get through the day. she WILL stab you if you get in her way though

Peyton Barrick: Kat's older brother and perpetually exhausted mother hen. Great public speaker but prefers to be cooking most of the time. Definitely going to trick you into being a vegetarian because he is and knows his way around a spice rack enough to convince you that you are eating pork, not eggplant. why is he a vegetarian? none of your fucking business.

Scarlett Carter: battle-worn leader of the Resistance and antique revolver enthusiast. yes it's very funny that she has a gigantic scar across her face and her name is Scarlett. mention it again and she'll show you one of those revolvers up close. these new kids are giving her grey hairs.

Hayden Stone: Scarlett's husband and the brains of the Resistance. NOT a morning person, will greet you with a shotgun if you wake him up. loves his daughter and is very sad that she decided to be a spy when he's just trying to keep her safe. thinks Will's puns are shitty and has a bet going on how long it'll take Kat to kill him.

My goal for Camp Nano has been to write 25,000 words and as of 4/11 I'm about halfway there :D

Posts tagged for this novel can be found here. A few highlights so far:

Kat and Will getting drunk and watching the news

15-question character interview of Kat and Will

Kat and Will having an Emotional Talk

Will taking a serious risk

The following excerpt is the opening scene, where Will meets Kat in his shop for the first time. let me know if you're interested in being added to the taglist for this wip! <3

I nudged the unconscious man with the bristles of the broom. “Are you dead?”

A small groan escaped. “She left me…”

“Jesus, you’re a sad drunk,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Dude, you have to make like a tree and leave.”

He mumbled something that sounded like an insult and turned over, face-down on the floor. I nudged him again with the broom, then smacked him when he didn’t move. He lurched up into a sitting position, swearing vaguely in my direction, and nearly knocked over a potted plant on a stand.

“I’m calling the cops if you don’t leave,” I said, moving towards the counter. “Whatever your deal is, it’s none of my business, but you gotta do it somewhere else.”

He grumbled and groaned but another smack with the broom had him up and stumbling out of the store. I rearranged the vases and potted plants that he’d disturbed and swept up the fallen leaves and petals.

The bell over the door rang and I turned to greet the customer. “Welcome to Lydia’s Fine Flowers, how can I help you?”

The young woman smiled, running her fingers over the head of one of the flowers near the door. “Just looking, thank you,” she said. “Who’s Lydia?”

“My mom,” I said, retreating behind the counter. “She grows all these flowers herself. Best florist in Jersey.”

“Not that you’d ever brag,” the young woman said with a smirk.

“That would be utterly unbe-leaf-able,” I replied, setting the broom back in its spot. “Bragging is very unbecoming.”

“Plant puns must be part of the job,” she said.

“The fun part.”

“Hmm.” She turned to look at the refrigerated arrangements. I went back to the shop computer, squinting at the inventory numbers. We would need to sell the summer arrangements soon, with fall coming up. I bit my lip. My mom would be on her own in a few months. I’d been helping out in the shop for as long as I could remember, and now I was off to college. How would she fare without me?

I turned around, shaking off the worry. My mom would be fine. I spotted the young woman frowning at a bouquet and walked over.

She jumped a little when I got close, her hand going to her waist. She relaxed when she saw it was me. I grinned at her. “Forget me not.”

She blinked. “What?”

I gestured at the display. “Forget-me-nots. I can check the pricing if you’d like.”

She sighed, her hand dropping away from her waist. “No, thanks. I was just thinking about a picture I saw once. I recognized the flowers from that.”

“I see. Let me know if you have any questions,” I said, returning to the counter. I picked up my book from behind the register and flipped through the pages until I found the spot I had left off at.

Olympic Committee Requirements

My fingers itched, imagining myself at the Olympic tryouts the next summer. I would win gold, I was sure of it. I'd already won state and regional archery competitions, gone to nationals, and beaten more experienced archers who were twice my age. I was more than cut out for it.

I was going to make it.

The crinkle of tissue paper jolted me out of the book. “Will?”

I glanced up at the young woman, startled. She smiled at me, her eyes flicking down to my nametag. I grinned back. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You don’t have a nametag.”

“How much for these?” she asked, gesturing at the bouquet of lilies she’d set on the counter.

“Fifteen.” I punched it into the register. “Cash or card?”

“Cash.” She set the money down on the counter and fiddled with the lilies as I made change.

“Are those a gift for someone or just for you?” I wrapped them up in paper and added a packet of plant food.

“They’re for my little sister.” Her lips twitched. “They’re her favorite.”

“That’s sweet.” I handed her the change. “I never did get your name.”

“Hmm.” She turned, curling brown hair swinging over her shoulder. I caught the faint whiff of mint before the bell chimed and she was gone. I stared after her for a second before returning to my book.

I had bigger things to worry about.

if you want to get into the mood, this wip does have a playlist

[ballpit-bakery]

Round 1: Kevin vs Parsnip

Image IDs included! Click the images to see the full character please!

More about each NPC below the cut!

Character 1

Name: Kevin Party: GATEGATE Relationship to party: Familiar, general menace

What makes them the best NPC: We used speak with animals on him one time and it was so funny we just decided he could talk the whole time. Canonically he's a familiar because he got arrested in the Feywild and this is his community service. He's not only useless but actively antagonistic to the party. He eats exclusively raw meat hand-rolled in birdseed and hates everyone. His sheer glee at seeing the rest of us miserable was powerful enough to protect us from the effects of the Shadowfell. His two attacks are (a) shitting on people and (b) necklace of fireballs. He is my horrible son and I love him very much. He gets consulted on every decision and his response is always some variation of (horrible screechy voice) "you're all stupid and I hope you die I'm going back to sleep".

Any extra propaganda under the tag Kevin, to be found here

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 2

Name: Parsnip Party: Soup Squad Relationship to party: [Submitter's PC, Barley's] pocket frog/run off prince from a nearby land

What makes them the best NPC: Tumblr sexyman material, and has fighter stats as a druid. He uses wildshape for the express purpose of tagging along with a literal child. This lead to him literally melting in Barley's bag once.

Quote: "So what's with the, uh, rivalry you have with the wizard that's trying to kill us, Barley?"

Any extra propaganda under the tag Parsnip, to be found here

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.” 

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!” 

“Dwacawuys!” 

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?” 

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress. 

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her. 

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?” 

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop. 

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?” 

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.” 

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger. 

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here. 

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself. 

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.” 

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date. 

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything. 

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down. 

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand. 

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.  

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed. 

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor. 

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer– 

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!” 

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved. 

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air. 

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling. 

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but… 

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever. 

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?” 

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…” 

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?” 

“All very good.” 

“... Helaena?” 

“Yes, brother?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.” 

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!” 

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?” 

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.” 

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked. 

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.” 

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.” 

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?” 

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?” 

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.” 

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye. 

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie. 

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

[freya-captain]

Low-key wondering (hoping lol) if you will be making anymore gif sets about the forced marriage au between jace and aegon🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Thanks for liking it! (somehow i didn't see this ask till i logged in on my laptop)

I wrote another clip and hope you guys enjoy it. (i don't know why it getting longer and longer...)

Continuing on this thread

Warning: alpha King!Jacaerys x omega! Aegon; forced marriage; black wining the war; Lucemond mentioned

They made a brief stop in Pentos.

Had been traveling west for six days in a bumpy carriage, Aegon did try hard not to throw up on Jace's boots. Considering that he is King now it would've been a terribe act of crime.

He was plotting a way to escape till they reached a manse, but no sooner did he lower himself into the hot water and close his eyes than he was fast asleep. He woke naked on a goose-down feather bed so soft as if he had been swallowed by a cloud. There was no one else in the dim chamber, only two knights guarding outside that he peeked through the door.

So he came to the window. New spring grass seemed soft enough. He casually threw on some robe and jumped out of it. Everything went suprisingly smooth—no one noticed; no one followed. He saw cherry trees stood sentinel around a marble pool. The yard here was stupidly big, from where he started his explore.

He saw three gates during his wanderings - the main entrance with its gatehouse, a postern by the kennels, and a garden gate hidden behind pale ivy. The last was chained, the others guarded.

No wonder Jacaerys found no need to send someone watching over him. He knew it was impossible for him to get out, by himself. How cunning. He thought. Everyone he met either ignored him or spoke a strange language he could not comprehend. They weren't talking to him anyway, not to mention offering help.

The futile efforts made Ageon dizzy, so afterward he went back to the chamber, curled up, and shut his eyes, drowning in the feather bed once more until a soft voice woke him up.

"My prince," a servant girl stood next to the bed, speaking the common tongue, "your bath awaits. His grace expects you at table within the hour."

He rubbed his eyes, "I was having the best dream of my life." He didn't. He slept sound and deep. The last time felt like forever ago.

"Apology, my prince." She fetched a new robe for him, so much more delicate and gorgeous than the last one, decorated with intricate lace of Myr and rubies in the shape of tears, "It is my honor to present the dress to you, my prince. Look at the color. It brings out the beautiful purple in your eyes. "

He propped himself against the pillows, "I'm not wearing that. And stop calling me prince."

She seemed so well-trained, "Whatever you say, my lord."

As he bathed, the girl washed his feet, scrubbed his back, and brushed his hair. The black color was not easily washed away though. Afterward she rubbed sweet-smelling ointment into his neck, arms and calves, and dressed him once again in the old robe.

Jacaerys was reading a massive book in candlelight by the wide dinner table when he stepped in. A chronicle, Aegon guessed. His brown hair has grown much longer and curlier than the way he remembered. Despite sitting, his oldest nephew still appeared broad-shouldered and tall.

He looks different. Aegon thought, he looks like a man now.

"It seems you are finally cleared of fleas, uncle. Baths agree with you." The young alpha looked up at him and smiled, "Come sit."

Aegon cautiously took a seat in the only remaining chair, "Last time we dinned together you were still short."

He countered the remark, "Last time we dinned together your hair was still blonde." He signalled the servants, “I assume you hungry?"

The serving men came running. They began with a broth of crab and monkfish, and cold egg lime soup as well. Then came quails in honey, a saddle of lamb, goose livers drowned in wine and buttered parsnips. 

The sight of it all made Aegon feel queasy. Jace gestured to him with a glass of wine. He was wearing a long velvet shirt emblazoned with the royal sigil, the three-headed dragon.

"Are you truly King now? I didn't see your crown." He asked with deliberate acerbity.

"You get to see me in crown as soon as we return the Keep." He responded calmly.

"The country is still running even when her ruler is absent, huh?"

Jace gave a soft smile, not offended at all, "My excellent small council allows me to take a small break."

Something changed in his nephew. He is no longer the reckless alpha that was so easily provoked and showed everything on his face.

Aegon felt discouraged as he forced himself to try a spoon of soup, and once he had tasted it he was lost. He had never eaten so well. Life in exile has little to do with luxurious food, or even complete meals. Not that he minded, but only in this moment he started to remember how good it was to be noble.

He did not realized he was that hungry. As he was sucking the meat off the bones of his quail, he noticed Jacaerys was staring at him without touching his plate. Indeed he was eating without a single sense of grace of a queen or a prince. How wonderful. He mused, the sooner Jace found him repulsive, the sooner he can get himself out of this hell. So he didn’t give a care. "I see you learned some magic tricks, nephew." Jace frowned. Aegon stifled a laugh and explained “You could full your stomach just by staring at me.”

"You slept too long. I already ate ahead." Jace added unnecessarily, "Plus I like watching you eating."

He rolled his eyes, "You'd like it better when I drink." He asked another sharp question, "Why didn't you ride your dragon? That one called Wellax? "

"Vermax. " He wiped the corner of Aegon's mouth with a towel , said candidly, "He was still recovering from the war wounds. I don't want him to fly for excessively long."

"Hmm, the Greyjoy's rebellion?"

Jace raised his eyebrows, "I am surprised you knew that."

Of course Aegon knew that. He heard this great usurper war even across the sea. About three years ago, House of the Kraken ambushed the Velaryon fleets and declared war against the Iron Throne. Lys, Myr and Tyrosh joined them as well. He heard Prince Jacaery led the Royal Army himself and fought besides the brave Cregan Stark, lord of the northerners. He heard the Wirewolf's bastard sister Sara Snow followed them to the battlefield too. And there was his brother —Aemond Targaryen, he and his monster dargon Vaghar were the shinest stars during the war.

"They said my dear brother burned the Iron Islands to ashes."

"He also killed the rebel leader Dalton himself in a one-on-one combat."

"I believe the Iron Islanders thanked him greatly for that —Now people only fear our house more. You gave my war criminal brother a nice excuse."

"I didn't give anyone excuses. It was the ironborns who started the fire."

"So before the fire lighted, Dalton Greyjoy didn't stealed Lucerys and kept him captive then? Or Aemond was simply sitting at home out of his respect for you?"

Jace took a deep breath faced with his sarcasm, "Luke is my brother, my blood. I would do anything for his safety. But I was not impulsive enough to start a war against one of the seven kingdoms because they had Luke. I know Aemond wanted that more than anything. But I was the Chief Commander. They rejected the peace deal and they started a rebellion first. I had no choice but to defeat and destroy them. Believe it or not, that's the truth."

"It made senses. You are your mama's boy, after all." Aegon finally commented with a mocking smile.

“I see you heard a lot in the east.” Jace's eyes started glittering with anger. Aegon smelled victory.

“I heard more that that." He took a big gulp of pale Pentoshi ambers,"I heard our precious prince, the heir to the iron throne, had an affair with the little wolf girl. Love in the flames of war, how beautiful. I kept wondering why you didn't marry her? You must've thought a bastard girl wouldn't be good enough for you."

Suddenly Jace placed his glass heavily on the table. He stared at Aegon in dead silence for a few seconds, long enough to seem like a century. Aegon was beginning to regret it. The alpha would be infuriated if he truly loved that girl. He had only wanted to provoke his nephew; he didn't want to die. He loved his life, sweet and could-be-short life.

Alpha stood up and walked over to Aegon, leaning down to cup his face gently.

"Never address me like that again, Egg. My patience is never limitless." His eyes and movements conveyed a completely different message.

Then Aegon felt it—something overwhelming, powerful, something disabling him of talking back or moving a bit, something belonging to a superior alpha or King. Now that his figure was so close, his scents were clearer than ever. Jace smelled so good, a full-fledged alpha - fresh pine needles, fuzzy animal musk, blood, cum, spicy tobacco.

“You smell like fucking home.” He said without thinking. Then immediately bit his tongue in regret. Where the hell did that come from?

Jace's expression softened, "Do you miss home, Egg?"

He shook his head, then nodded, "A little, maybe. Though I know no one misses me at all."

“We all miss you, silly. You've gone for ten whole years. " He sat back next to Aegon and cut him a piece of goose liver with a knife. “At every family dinner, we saved you a seat and wish you could show up.”

Aegon lost all his appetite when it came to this topic, “Haha, very funny. I almost buy it.”

Jace watched him pouring another cup of Dornish Red, "Queen Alicent sometimes sat in your old room and weeping." He said in a soft voice, "And Aemond, he never said a thing. But he named his seond son Aegon, in the fifth year you left. Even Rhaenyra, she used to tell us the story how she played wooden dragons with you when you were little."

"Is toying with me fun enough for you?" He lost it, tears collecting in his lavender eyes, "I know they hated me. Everyone hated me! You expect me to believe suddenly I became a good son, a good brother that everyone missed sickly? ”

No one ever loved him. Not his father who loved only his first wife and her child, not his mother who was only content with Aemond, not his sister who seemed so relieved when she found she didn't have to marry him.... He was everybody’s disappointment. This seemed like a only good job he exceled at. That was why he fled.

"Who said that? ”Jace was half-surprised-half angry, "You can't put yourself down like this."

"I was never the one anyone wanted."

Jace was ridiculous enough to laugh, "But I want you." He took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"..No!" Aegon retracted his hand like he'd been electrocuted. Alpha's scent was so close that it annoyed and agitated him.

He never felt so crestfallen, "Jace, Jacaerys Targaryen, listen, this is no fun anymore. I lose the game. I give up."

"Come home with me then."

"NO!" He almost freaked out, "Can't you see what kind of person I am? Do you know what I have been through? I was a Omega in exile."

"I don't care that much." There was a certain darkness in his tone, "You were my Queen. You still are."

Aegon doubted the only one that remembered the seven kingdom once had a queen is Jacaerys himself.

"No one liked it. No one likes it still."

"You'll see when we return the Keep." He shrugged, “There's a coronation awaiting.""

[paleopinesofficial]

Introducting Parsnip Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Prince of our Hearts 🥕👑🧡

Available limited edition February 1st-23rd! Order here!

[jozor-johai]

Revisiting the Rat Cook, Part 2: Prince-and-Bacon Pie, and Pork Crackling

This is the second part of a series where I'm examining the symbols and themes present in the "Rat Cook" story, as relayed by Bran in ASOS Bran IV, and search reappearances of those elements throughout the rest of ASOIAF.

This is the first part, as well as the long version of my introduction.

"Revisiting the Rat Cook" is predicated on the understanding that GRRM's use of metadiegetic legends provide a "road map" of symbols and meaning, used in their abstract form, which we, as readers, can use to better understand the relationships between symbols, motifs, and themes as they reoccur throughout ASOAIF as a whole.

Among other things, the Rat Cook story is about a rat which eats rats, or a cook who serves kings; The Rat Cook story is about fathers and sons, about cannibalism, about trust, about vengeance, and about damning one's legacy.

This is likely going to be a 9-part series, but ideally almost all of these parts will be able to stand on their own. Each post will inform the next as I build my analysis, but hopefully each individual post is also interesting in its own right.

"Prince-and-Bacon Pie"

Last time, we talked about Wyman Manderly's wedding pies, and his favorite, lamprey pies.

In the original Rat Cook story, though, the Andal King is allegedly served a bacon pie. “Prince-and-bacon pie”, Bran calls it, and he repeats later that a “rasher of bacon” was cooked into the prince pie. The idea of pork served alongside human flesh is given repeat attention in regard to the pie, but it extends elsewhere into the story as well:

When the Rat Cook is punished, in turn, and becomes a cannibal rat eating his own kind, he is transformed into an insatiable rat “as huge as a sow”. Unusually large for a rat, but he is certainly no longer a man, although perhaps close enough, if you trust the moniker “long pork”.

This connection remains true for Lord Manderly’s Frey pies. When they are served in ADWD The Prince of Winterfell, they are introduced as being pork pies:

“…three great wedding pies, as wide across as wagon wheels, their flaky crusts stuffed to bursting with carrots, onions, turnips, parsnips, mushrooms, and chunks of seasoned pork swimming in a savory brown gravy.

Manderly’s pie is nearly identical to the one served by the Rat Cook, with carrots, onions, mushrooms, and, most importantly, down to pork as the main meat—which is to be expected, as Manderly has all but admitted to his influences.

In fact, though, the association of cannibalism, pork, and even pies comes as early as AGOT Jon IV, when the readers are introduced to the notion offhand while the Night’s Watch recruits mock Samwell Tarly:

“I saw him eat a pork pie," Toad said, smirking. "Do you think it was a brother?"

Three-Finger Hobb is certainly not serving Dickon to Samwell, but it contains all the same connections that the Rat Cook story relies on: between cannibalism and one’s own family, children baked into pork pies. The phrase “rasher of bacon” from the Rat Cook story appears in this same interaction about Sam, doubling down on the associations:

"You girls do as you please," Rast said, "but if Thorne sends me against Lady Piggy, I'm going to slice me off a rasher of bacon."

Again, this early instance of bullying, which might instead be framed as the brutal hierarchy of interpersonal domination—or we might say, brothers turning against brothers—is depicted using the same motifs as literal cannibalism. Is it Sam’s blood brother who is a pork pie, or is it Sam, called pork by the men who would become his black brothers? These are brothers turning against their own, and it is the imagined transformation of a man into a pig.

The recruits are joking here, but the comparison between slicing up a human and slicing up pork was brought up with a much darker tone only three chapters earlier, in AGOT Arya II:

Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered.

It’s dark irony for Micah, the butcher’s boy, to be returned to his father butchered like a pig. It also evokes our Rat Cook story again, with a dead son delivered to his father; like the Andal king, Micah’s father thinks—for a moment—that he’s being given pork. Also present again is the nature of transformation that this death creates: the prince becomes a pork pie, and the Rat Cook becomes as big as a “sow”, just as much as Micah becomes a slaughtered pig.

When the Night’s Watch arrives at Craster’s Keep in ACOK Jon III, Jon finds the similarity again, noting that a pig about to be slaughtered sounds eerily human:

Nearby, a small girl pulled carrots from a garden, naked in the rain, while two women tied a pig for slaughter. The animal's squeals were high and horrible, almost human in their distress.

Immediately later in the same chapter, Dolorous Edd makes a wry joke about cannibalism:

Best leave the wolf outside, he looks hungry enough to eat one of Craster's children. Well, truth be told, I'm hungry enough to eat one of Craster's children, so long as he was served hot.

Just like with the Night’s Watch recruits, this is a joke, but Edd’s line about eating one of Craster’s children transforms the earlier scene into a more chilling image: we were presented with the human-sounding tied pig appearing side-by-side in the same sentence with one of Craster’s small, naked children. With the addition of Edd’s words, both motifs appear alongside a story of eating children—just as in the Rat Cook story, where the Andal king eats his child-as-pork, and the Rat Cook-as-sow eats his own children as well.

Even more can be made of Edd’s jape, if we notice another minute detail: it’s also loaded that Edd uses “he” here to refer to Craster’s child… when Craster only keeps his daughters. Because Edd evokes sons here, Edd’s joke about eating a child calls special attention to the conspicuously missing sons from the scene. Might we expect, in the context of all this imagery, that these sons have been 'eaten' as well, even if not literally? We learn that these missing sons were sacrificed to the old gods later in the same chapter:

But the wildlings serve crueler gods than you or I. These boys are Craster's offerings. His prayers, if you will.

This is the clear meaning of the earlier association between the vulnerable child and the “almost human” pig, which is about to be slaughtered—or sacrificed—so that the keep could live, by way of eating it. It’s the same thing with Craster’s children, who are also, from his perspective, sacrificed so that his keep can live on, untroubled by the old gods.

Note here how all these motifs occur in tandem with each other: pigs as sacrifice to become food, eating children, sacrificed sons, deference (or lack thereof) to the old gods (and, importantly, their laws). The Rat Cook, in retribution, is forced to eat his children, for he forced the Andal King to do the same.

In both scenarios, the gods seemingly ‘demand’ that a father sacrifice his children; the fact that these are sons for Craster deepens the symbolic meaning, as it did with Walder Frey and the Freys in the last part: it is the death of one’s legacy by way of one’s lineage. Only sons bear the family name.

This is the paradox, the 'doom' that Craster, like the doomed characters in "The Rat Cook", is living out. From his perspective, he sacrifices his sons for the same reason he slaughters the pigs: to ensure his keep's survival. They need to eat, and they need to be untroubled by curses. But that sacrifice is Craster's curse, for even as he ensures his short-term survival, he damns his legacy. Craster may have children, but his keep has no future. Every one of his daughters, rather than become their own generation, perversely returns to reenact the role of their mother’s generation as Craster weds her; his keep, as its own patriarchal entity, is stagnant, and will die with him.

"Pork Crackling"

Regarding the equivalence of eating one’s family as an extension of eating one’s legacy, agency, or even one’s self, bear with me into an interesting digression about Victarion:

In ADWD The Iron Suitor, Victarion understands that his role as captain is both inextricably tied to his physical person, and yet is also an idea, separate from him as a mortal man. Referring to his rotting hand, he thinks to himself:

This was not something that his crew could see. They were half a world away from home, too far to let them see that their iron captain had begun to rust.

His mortality—the mortification of his injured hand—would ruin the effect of his role as captain, a higher status which the Ironborn consider to be a “king aboard his own ship”. Victarion may not be socially permitted to be so incapacitated while captain, but he also understands that if he keeps his captain identity separate from his mortal form—that is, if he can lie about the severity of his injury, keeping the state of his body hidden while playing the role of captain—he can maintain his identity as “the iron captain”.

The role of 'captain', and even more so, the arm that is required to be a warrior, is so intricately tied to Victarion’s warrior identity, and therefore to his sense of self, that Victarion refurses to allow the maester to cut off his arm to save the rest of his body. Again, his identity is greater than his mortality.

Yet, when Moqorro suddenly arrives, and Victarion is faced with an alternative, he is willing to sacrifice all else: to stray from the Drowned God towards R'hllor, to put his body into the hands of a “sorcerer” that he just met—all to pursue the ideal of his legacy as captain, divested from his person. And so Victarion, by beginning to sacrificing so much cultural baggage which he believed was part of himself, gets to keep his arm and his captainhood—and what does this arm look like?

Victarion offers this sickening description in ADWD Victarion I:

The arm the priest had healed was hideous to look upon, pork crackling from elbow to fingertips.

It’s a rare case where someone is able to look at their own body and make the gruesome comparison between their own flesh and pork as food, and this moment is Victarion’s reward. Like the Rat Cook who became a rat "huge as a sow", like Micah the butcher's boy who became a butchered pig, Victarion's arm—which was so much his legacy, his identity, that he would not let the maester remove it, so much a symbol of his personhood and his power that he would stray from the Drowned God to get it back—has become pork crackling.

- - -

Speaking of pork crackling, and returning to Craster's Keep...

When they burn the body of a fallen Night’s Watchman in ASOS Samwell II, Sam finds that it smells so much like pork that he is involuntarily hungry:

The worst thing was the smell, though. If it had been a foul unpleasant smell he might have stood it, but his burning brother smelled so much like roast pork that Sam's mouth began to water, and that was so horrible that as soon as the bird squawked "Ended" he ran behind the hall to throw up in the ditch.

Yet again, Dolorous Edd appears immediately afterward to bring the cannibalistic overtones to the forefront. Again, Edd makes the comparison between eating pork and eating human flesh, like in the Rat Cook story, and with eating one’s family, as with his own jape a book earlier, as with Rast mocking Sam in AGOT, as with the Freys eating their kin in ADWD. They may not be tied by blood, but Edd jokes about eating his brothers all the same:

"Never knew Bannen could smell so good." Edd's tone was as morose as ever. "I had half a mind to carve a slice off him. If we had some applesauce, I might have done it. Pork's always best with applesauce, I find." … "You best not die, Sam, or I fear I might succumb. There's bound to be more crackling on you than Bannen ever had, and I never could resist a bit of crackling.”

If Sam were to die, Edd suggests, he too would become pork crackling. I wonder if that says anything about Victarion's own fate... but I'm talking about Sam for now.

The even more important part of Sam’s experience here is Sam's knowledge that it is wrong, sickening, to eat human flesh—or, perhaps, to turn against his family, even his adopted family, as the two issues are conflated in these instances. Edd jokes about how delicious Bannen smells to make light of a dark, cruel truth: in these starving conditions, that might be true. Despite that suspicion, it is still firmly the wrong thing to do. Sam vomits even considering the thought.

When it comes to the Rat Cook story, though, that knowledge does not spare the Andal King any more than the Rat Cook; both, ultimately, are forced into the position of cannibalism, which makes it all the more tragic: to know the difference between right and wrong, but perhaps not to know which you are choosing. Did Victarion make the right choice turning his arm to pork to stay the "Iron Captain" he wanted to be? Did Craster make the right choice leaving his sons to die so that he could live untroubled? Do they even know?

As for the Andal King, he didn't even understand the choice in front of him; he was placed into that position by the Rat Cook—because of the violation of guest right, that significant law of the Old Gods.

Guest right is a social contract, the type that is necessary to maintain social stability. To keep interpersonal relationships, to build a community—or a kingdom—a person must be able to trust their neighbor. Practically, a guest must be able to trust that they will not be poisoned with food, in the same way that a host must be able to trust that their guest will not turn their cloak and slaughter them under their own roof. In other words, both parties must be able to trust that the social conditions of peace will be upheld.

The fact that this story of the Rat Cook concerns a power dynamic as well—between the lowly cook and the Andal King—expands the metaphor into one that describes feudalism as a whole… but I’ll expand that idea in the subsequent parts to come.

For now, consider this: that the Andal King, like Sam with Bannen’s delicious-smelling corpse, might have known the difference between right and wrong, but it may have made no difference as to what he actually did: he still ate his own son.

But what of the Andal King's own crime? Who started it? The Rat Cook broke the ancient social contract of trust called “guest right” to punish the King… but for the Rat Cook to be deserving of vengeance, the Andal King must have broken a social contract as well, perhaps a social contract regarding the position of power that a King has over a cook. The King must have broken that contract first, even before the story of "The Rat Cook" picks up.

But that will be further discussed in parts to come. Next part we’ll talk more about trust in particular, finally taking look at Coldhands attempting to feed Bran a “sow”, visiting Arya in the House of Black and White, and looking at Quentyn making a deal Meereen.

[tinytiger]

The Hobbit - A Kili x F!Reader Fanfic

Masterlist

The Truth

The dwarves are unhappy with a meatless meal, and tensions rise when Y/n, with elven heritage, is treated as royalty by Elrond. Y/n asserts her independence and playfully challenges royal norms. A food fight breaks out during dinner, and later, Y/n encounters the dwarves frolicking in a fountain, resulting in a soaked dress. Despite mishaps, playful banter ensues between Y/n and Kili, hinting at a budding relationship. The evening ends with Y/n surprising Kili with a cheeky kiss, leaving him dazed, and Thorin observing their connection.

Tw- None

The dwarves were not happy.

There was no meat at all on the plates that were put in front of them, just green things that tasted horrible. Thorin had refused to sit at the table and eat food given to him by the species he hated the most. As he looked out of the large hole he stood in front of, his mind was trying to process what had just happened.

Elrond has called Y/n ‘Your Majesty’. She is related to that pampered asshole that is King Thranduil.

Anger flooded through his veins, how come Y/n hadn’t told them.

The chatter behind him stopped. Thorin turned around because the dwarves being quiet during a meal is nothing normal.

As he turned, Y/n walked into the light of the hall. The dress was pooling at her feet, the sleeves were way too long for her. Her hair was pulled back and had been put into a plat, the tiara was weaved into her.

She looked gorgeous, but you could tell she was uncomfortable. As she moved to sit next to Kili, Erland grabbed her hand to make her sit next to him.

“Y/n, you have to sit here!” he exclaimed as Y/n stood up. That is when she exploded.

“Oh, do I, I thought I could sit where I want, and I want to sit with my friends. Not some posh elf boy with an ego that is the size of Smaug’s love for gold. Now stop telling me what to do!” Y/n commanded.

Ever since she had walked into this place, that she used to miss, the people were bowing and telling her where to go and what to do. Surely a princess should have her freedom. She spun on her heel and walked over to where all the dwarves were sat, with astonished looks on their faces. Thorin went to brood out of the window, with a smirk on his face.

At least the sass was passed down.

The chatter returned as she sat down and dug into the salad that was in front of her. After 5 minutes, she looked up at Kili and said,

“I am so sorry about my past. I thought you would treat me differnerly if you would know that i wasn’t a normal half elf.”

Kili smiled and put his large hand on her small, now less muddy, hand.

“I get it, we wouldn’t treat you any different from how we do now. I mean, I’m a prince, and Bofur threw a rock at me the other day.” Kili laughed as the look of shock crossed Y/n’s face.

Then a lettuce leaf smacked her in the back of the head.

“All right, which one of you was that!” she swirled around and picked up a parsnip. All of the dwarves pointed at Fili.

She swung her arm back and threw the vegetable at Fili. But it was way off target and hit Thorin in the back of the head; everyone went quiet.

“Oh Skirth!” she swore as Thorin slowly spun around. She was dead. Then another lettuce leaf hit him in the forehead. Kili and Fili jumped out of their seats and began to throw vegetables at whoever was in reach. Twice Kili got a tomato in the face; Y/n seemed to be the main target for three of the dwarves.

Kili ran towards her and threw her over his shoulder.

“Kili Durin! Put me down now!” She screamed, slamming her fists into his shoulder.

“Ow! No, stop wriggling, will you. Ow,” he argued back but eventually put her on the floor.

“Watch this,” Kili whispered into her pointed ears.

He picked up a potato and threw it in Erland’s direction. He moved out of the way just in time, and it hit the statue behind him. The two burst out laughing. The evening was very enjoyable.

Y/n was walking around Rivendale. She kept thinking of her mother; would the guards of Rivendale tell her father she was here? They had to go near Mirkwood, so would she run into her brother or her father?

As she walked past the fountain, shouts caught her attention. They seemed happy. As she turned the corner, her eyes caught a sight she wouldn’t forget for a while.

All of the dwarves were in the fountain, naked. She squeaked, and that caught the attention of them all. She spun around as Kili got out of the fountain.

“You alright, Lass?” He asked, walking behind her, not being able to see her face. She was glad about that, as she was bright red.

“Yes, Kili, I’m fine. Could you just get back in the water or put a towel on… please,” she muttered as he got closer.

“Come on, Kili,” Fili shouted in his direction. Kili laughed and walked back to the fountain.

Y/n turned around as she heard a massive splash. All of the dwarves had jumped in, causing a massive splash to get her soaked.

Her dress was ruined, which she didn’t care about, but it was starting to stick to her body. Making her curves stick out a bit.

“Guys!” she moaned.

She walked back to her room, dripping water all over the place. She was freezing.

“Y/n!” Her name was shouted as she turned to see Kili, this time in a green shirt with brown trousers on.

“Kili, I’m not mad at you.” His face lit up. “But please don’t do that again.”

“Well, it wasn’t my idea it was—“

“Let me guess, Fili.”

“Yes,” Kili said, looking at the floor.

“Actually, I was surprised that you landed in the fountain. Where did you aim when we needed to shoot the warg earlier?” The e/c-eyed girl looked at Kili with a smirk. She had pushed a couple of buttons.

“Hey, at least I don’t trip over my own feet.”

Leaning in, Y/n glared and stuck her tongue out at him. The two burst into a fit of giggles.

Kili gazed into her eyes as she looked at him.

“At least I can argue with a troll.”

“At least, I don’t get caught by a troll.”

“I was saving Bilbo!” Y/n cried, putting her hands on her hips.

“I saved you twice!” Kili gave her a sideways glance.

“Once, and you told them to drop me; if they did, I would have landed on my head.”

“And we wouldn’t want your pretty ears to get squished, would we?”

Y/n punched Kili in the shoulder.

“Ow! Stop being so rough,” Kili cried out as he held onto his arm.

“I thought you liked it rough,” Y/n cheekily said, raising an eyebrow.

Kili’s face went into a dark shade of red. His head suddenly was filled with situations that made his legs twang a bit.

He came to a halt at her side. Kili wanted to say something. Anything, he wanted to make her feel like this. As she reached her door, she looked at Kili and spoke.

“Thanks for walking me back.” She turned to open the door to her room.

“You’re welcome; oh, and Thorin wants us to leave at midnight. We need to get to Dale before Durin’s Day,” Kili told her, gazing at her.

“Oh, thank you, Kili,” Y/n replied, her thigh holster was beginning to rub; she mentally swore.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Kili said as he walked back to the place where the dwarves slept.

Y/n stopped, her heart beating at 100 miles per hour. An idea popped into her head. She spun around and kissed Kili on his cheek. When she lowered herself to the ground, she smirked at him.

“Goodnight, Prince.”

Y/n disappeared into her room, leaving Kili in the corridor on his own.

Kili had never been so still. He was really tempted to open that door and kiss her back. Walking over to the door, he put his hand on the doorknob.

“Kili.”

His face shot up, and he saw Thorin. How much had he seen? The whole thing. He smiled at the young dwarf and put his arm around his shoulder and walked the dazed boy back to the room he was staying in.

[bellalampwickrossi]

Disney Descendants : List of Tiger Lily and Lampwick's pets

Daphne The Purple cat

Art by @antonellacat1098 ...... Diamond The Dog

...... Cassanova the Domesticated wolf

.....

Three Miniature Donkeys named Carrot, Parsnip and Lettuce. .....

3 baby peacocks named Queenie, King and Prince ......

A Horse Named Nina

[nyudoguno]

‍

‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍ ‍ indie & semi selective && 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍‍PRINCE GRUS ; from 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 . .

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍ ‍‍penned by parsnip // Lio. she/he. 23 ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍‍ ‍- follows and likes from @parsnip-hub

[theroyalsims]

PREGNANT AND GLOWING! ELEANORE STEPS OUT WITH IBRAHIM FOR EARLY MARKET STROLL

Pregnancy looks great on Eleanore!

The Countess and Earl of Harvelle were spotted walking around the town square near Briar Park where the two have a home. Locals were reportedly shocked see the royal duo walking around casually -sans security- and sampling the local produce at the market. One vendor noted:

“I didn’t realise that it was Eleanore and Ibrahim at first! I just thought ‘wow, what a beautiful couple,’ but when they came near my stall, I couldn’t believe my eyes. They’re very, very different from what I’ve read about them in the papers. They’re not at all off-putting or snobbish. They were very kind, very gracious. Eleanore asked if she could sample some of my strawberries and she said she loved them. Her husband -who was also really very nice- bought her two bagfuls of them! Even left me a handsome tip!”

They apparently also walked away with a some parsnips, and Eleanore let slip that she’s having the “oddest obsession” over the veg:

“They also bought some parsnips. She said that she hated them before but now, she’s got the oddest obsession over parsnips. I told her it has to be the pregnancy. She laughed when I and told her that I couldn’t get enough of cabbages when I was pregnant with my youngest.”

Local folks over at Briar Park are no strangers to royals. The Queen herself, along with Prince Jacques, are big fans of the open-air market. Prince Jacques, especially, loves chatting with the local farmers during their trips.

 Locals also know better than to badger their royals for photos. One resident shares:

“We let them be. We reckon it must be hard enough to have everyone all up in their business 24/7, why not just let them shop about in peace? But sometimes, some folks are able to sneak a couple of pictures with some of them, but most of us kind of feel bad for them that we just leave them alone. We’re sure they appreciate it.”

For their early morning trip, the Earl cozied up in a designer jumper, which he paired with a green coat. Although temperatures have gotten a little warmer these past couple of days, the foreign royal, who was raised in hot and humid Al-Simhara, is still getting used to Brindleton’s chilly Autumns and Winters.

Countess Eleanore, meanwhile, looked adorable in a teal shift dress, which perfectly showed off her growing baby bump! Pregnancy has reportedly been an adventure for Her Highness, but poor Ibrahim is said to be a nervous wreck. One source claims that the Earl has never been so scared:

“Ibrahim is so tense these days. It started when E had some slight issues during her first trimester, but their doctors have assured them both that everything is going perfectly well. E’s really at peace and relaxed about her pregnancy but Ibrahim has never been so scared. Ibrahim has always been protective of E, but now there’s at least two of them (twins, after all, run in the family) he has to worry about. One bone of contention is E’s choice of footwear. E loves heels. But pregnant E in heels? Ibrahim thinks it’s a bad idea. E assures him that she’s more comfortable in heels than in flats. So as a compromise of sorts, they’ve struck a deal: she’ll stick to chunkier, shorter heels and he’ll always be with her to hold her hand, whenever she’s out wearing them.”

Eleanore also wore a special and sentimental new accessory during her trip to the shops: a monogram “I” necklace, no doubt in honour of her doting husband. However, other royal fans speculate that the “I” stands for the baby’s name. As for the little bun in the oven, no word yet on whether it’s a baby girl or a baby boy. Hmm... what shall it be? Will they be having a little “Isabella” or an “Isaac,” or maybe even an “Ibrahim Jr.?”

So lovely to see these two out and about! And we can’t wait to see Baby Harvelle!

[carnal-lnstinct]

In Another Lifetime

Inspiration: ♥

Title: Legacy of the Low Class

♫ indomitable warrior - SCIII OST • warriors - 2WEI

mini fic, au: love child, planet vegeta au, implied character x reader, canon-typical violence / mentions of blood, training, storge / familial interactions, sibling rivalry, implied half-siblings ( Raditz - 29, Kakarot - 22 )

Parsna - Paras - Gomitsu - Shige - Kolabi - Kome & Katsu

Parsna (parsnip) Age: 15 Location: Planet Vegeta

"Haven't you had enough yet, little girl?" An annoyed Raditz sneered across the debris of the training grounds.

"...No, have you?" The younger saiyan coughed, short of her breath with a hand to her stomach to nurse the ache from the attack. A smirk grew on her lips as she caught her breath and lifted her head towards her eldest brother with a confident smirk, getting back up on her feet. Parsna brushed the dirt from her chestplate, "'Cause I remember that one used to hurt." Raditz grimaced, further irritated. That arrogant act never failed to find a way to get under his skin, taking less effort to do so at every “reunion”. Then he grinned mischievously in return.

The old tricks don't work to keep her down anymore, implying there was no longer a reason to keep holding back. There were far many better things he could be doing with his downtime, but reminding a bratty nuisance of her place tended to find its way into his schedule. A small change in a power level—  when compared to the far more impressive level of his own— didn't strike any chords of amusement to him, but Bardock certainly saw it differently. 

This was, however, still one of the rare occasions their father chose to gather them all up. A habit born of a small child who only wanted to know her elusive working brothers, now some adopted traditional gathering every time she makes some milestone. Showing off a little was just part of the buzz of catching up now. It’s strange enough that the old man campaigns for this in favor of her. It’s obvious to both Raditz and Kakarot that these little exhibitions aren’t to praise their labors, one who became an elite soldier working directly with Prince Vegeta IV and the other who introduced the saiyan race ( and by extension, The Frieza Force ) to the concept of wish-granting dragon balls. The rest of their race recognized them more than their father in their youth, and even then they were unable to outgrow the shadow cast upon them by “The Great Bardock”. Their reputation was reduced to “expecting nothing less of Bardock’s boys” and luck. 

But that was before Parsna. 

Bardock wasn’t a terrible father to have by any means in his prime, he was simply a saiyan. There was no other way to describe it. Something happened around the time you became an interest to him, and eventually gave birth to his youngest child that the norm of his approach to his children improved beyond the typical low-class saiyan standard. Bardock still prioritized his job for a while after Parsna’s birth, but it gradually became easier to find him on Planet Vegeta with you and sometimes his crew. Most of all, he could be found often with his youngest, who no longer needed to be in her nursery pod, perched on his shoulders.

To a teenage Raditz and young Kakarot, it was strange to see their father who had gotten so strong over the course of their childhood become so pacified with remaining on Vegeta for a toddler. The strength he’d gain in his power from tougher missions could easily classify him as an elite soldier too, but he chooses to stay in his ranking. For his crew? For you? Neither son could say. But it looked like it was to parade his youngest around the planet for just existing. 

Parsna did nothing to gain that attention from him other than be born of his seed and your womb. Her power was just as low-leveled as Kakarot’s at birth.

 It couldn’t make sense to them to see this attentive side of Bardock, so much of all he has been and something completely different. A man who only gave his young boys a small congratulations for their achievements before he would disappear with no tell of when or if he would return again. Now he engages the two for their updates when he catches word of their return home, pries for the details of their battles, build up an enormous tab at mess hall with them as they catch up, takes interest in their training, and he does it all with Parsna in mind or at his side.

That simple fact strained the siblings' relationship with their half-sister. They wouldn’t outright say Bardock has gone soft in his age because of her, he could still exhibit the beast of a conqueror he is and not break a sweat doing so. But neither Raditz nor Kakarot bares any affinity for their little sister. They’ve never had to do anything for her until these little spars came into place and they were reminded to go easy on her. Until one day Bardock simply told them otherwise.

Overlooking the rough spar between Raditz and Parsna was Bardock with Kakarot on standby to watch the inevitable victory from the elite. Driven by their frisson for battle, Parsna tightened her tail around her waist and made another charge forward where she was easily dodged and in her frustration grew predictable to counter. Raditz knocked her off balance and swiftly dropped his heel in her back, trapping her smaller body under his foot when she collided with the ground.

"Why do you keep letting her fight him? It's just a lot more of the same, you know she's going to get beat." Kakarot voices to his father, clearly exhausted of the same old song and dance whenever she’s put up against one of them. Even if it’s been a while since they’ve gotten together to spar, why even bother fighting Raditz when she couldn’t even beat him?

"The same reason Raditz keeps accepting the challenge," Bardock answers with a focus on the battle. "She's got the spunk to stand up to an elite, she may as well show off what she's learned."

"Yeah. But she won't win."

Bardock’s eyes narrow slightly and he peers out the corner of his eye at his youngest son before turning to face him. "Is winning all that matters to you, Kakarot?” The look he is given catches him by surprise. Being asked directly like that, Kakarot was uncertain if whatever answer he gave was going to be the right one. Bardock answers his silence with a light smirk instead.  “You don’t see it, do you? Relying too much on that scouter to get the bigger picture. The simple fact she's able to keep up with Raditz at her age is enough to see her power is growing, much like your own.” He explains turning back to the fight, or rather what’s left of it. “I take it she just wants to catch up to you two, all the praise she’s always going on and on about being as tough a warrior as you and Raditz.” He adds. "Ya ain’t that different… Besides, have you defeated Raditz yet?" Bardock cuts his eyes at Kakarot again with a knowing grin. The averted eyes and embarrassed tinge of pink in his son’s face give him away. "I wouldn't count her out just yet if I were you."

Parsna, still bound under Raditz’s foot, felt her muscles at their limit trying to push herself up and get free. Though the deeper she dug inside herself for her strength, the more force pushed on her back to hold her down.

"Using me again to try and show off for the old man. Give it up already, brat!" Raditz sneered mockingly, muscles in his legs flexing to bare more weight down on her. He let out a laugh when her arms started to bend under his power, lowering her back into the dirt gasping for air. "At least make me try.” Satisfied with himself, he looked up towards his spectating father and brother and gestured with his hand for the match to be called. From his perspective, there was no need to continue this any longer. But Bardock didn’t call it off yet. Raditz sucked his teeth, annoyed. “Tch, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove but you may as well be-” His scouter started to read off a growing number below him. “-Worthless?” 

Parsna’s trembling arms managed to tense and, the ground beneath her hands abruptly concave under her pressure. Sweat dripping down her face and struggling, she was able to straighten out her arms and get her chest off the ground, slowly making her way to her knees. It earned a surprising gape from both Kakarot and Raditz while their father watched intensely. Raditz indeed found himself actually trying to hold her down with his foot now, dumbfounded by the level of power she was exhibiting unlike any she had before. Had his scouter not read it before his very eyes he would never believe this power was coming from her.

“I-Impossible!” Raditz growled. “When did you get this strong?”

“I-I’m…not-t...giving..up…!” Parsna strained, her will unrelenting. She knew she didn’t have to win, but she won’t accept defeat this time until she’s truly given it her all and shown what she was really capable of. They had all done so much before they were her age and she’s never even left the planet. More than anything, she wants to live up to the pride of her people by doing the same and this is was her chance to prove she could handle it.

Rather than accept this “humiliation”, Raditz was prepared to break the rules of the exhibition and readied his hand to blast her with a wave of ki. But then Kakarot landed before them taking his attention. He looked down at Parsna who managed to lift her head towards him at the sight of his feet before her. Kakarot greets her with a devious grin and raises his own foot.

"No one's giving you a fair fight out there. Better get used to this!" He swiftly brings his foot down on her head, colliding her face with the ground as she completely collapsed under both of them. Freed only when she became motionless. Kakarot folds his arms against his armored chest with a pleased glare, another one not looking to be shown up by the efforts of some little girl.

While Raditz pulls Parsna out of the ground by the back of her neck, Bardock folds his own arms still watching. He can’t get behind sneaky tactics like that, but his youngest son was right. No one is going to play safe fighting a saiyan when backed into a corner. It was going to be a lesson to learn sooner or later. The older saiyan opened his mouth to finally call it off when he noticed the light twitch of Parsna’s fingers.

She appeared unconscious and dangling in her older brother’s grasp as he berated Kakarot for unnecessarily jumping in without being asked, the other playfully arguing that he couldn’t resist the urge to involve himself when his brother’s struggling to finish the fight. That’s when Parsna’s eyes snapped back open with a sharp glare and gave a mighty swing of her foot up into Kakarot’s chin making him bite his tongue. She then quickly jerks her elbow back catching Raditz in the nose and knocking the scouter from her face. Dropped, she landed on her feet and gave a mischievous smirk, proceeding to wipe the dirt and blood from her own nose and lip.

“You insolent little brat!” Raditz shouted through the hollows of his cupped hands as he held his nose while Kakarot fanned at his bleeding tongue. "Father couldn't have taught you that!" Parsna turned to snicker at them both, proud of her own quick wit. She went to brush her sweaty bangs from her forehead and checked herself when she noticed an earring missing from her ear. With a gasp, she quickly searched the little area around the three of them before glaring at Raditz. 

"You knocked out my earring, you jerk!" Parsna snapped at him, a fist raised threatening him. "That was a gift!"

"Me?! You're the one always looking to roughhouse! Learn to take some responsibility for your own actions!" Raditz snapped back with the back of his hand now pressed up to his nose to try and keep the blood out from his mouth. Naturally, the younger saiyan wouldn’t back down from him.

"If Aunt Fasha can't replace these for me, I'm telling my mom!" 

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"You're still such a crybaby." Kakarot grimaced at her, speaking carefully so as not to brush his throbbing tongue against his teeth.

Bardock sighed deeply, his intrigue at what he witnessed quickly overshadowed with annoyance. Already exasperated by the petty back and forth between his children while they continued to go at it. He quietly questions where any of them get that mouthiness from and doesn’t see it coming from him. With a thoughtful scratch at his beard, he then raises to his feet, thick brows narrowed into an impatient scowl. "What's with all the damn noise? Knock it off already, all of ya!" He barks out, all three turning to him. "This is a fight, not a screaming match."

"One of them lost my earring!" Parsna whined to him, the older man not giving into her childish pout.

"Suck it up!"

[dragonfruitghosts]

I have crawled out of the Depths and I'm here now

Hey there gamers, my name's Larry. I also go by Voltz, Parsnip, Wilbur, Travis, Ash, Sal, Hunter, Donnie, Sasha, Ranger, Randy, Allister, and Peppi. I mainly prefer the name Larry but just go with whatever you feel like

This is my side blog turned main blog for my posts about fictionkinity (hopefully that's the right word) selfshipping, and all around stuff that I don't really wanna post on my former maib blog (which is @larrycommitsarson btw). This is just my funny little chaos zone now.

Also here's some stuff about me below the cut if you wanna know things

I'm a genderqueer, nonbinary-man, shadowgender trans man (idk how to phrase it properly lmao) that goes by he/fox/wolf/lynx/sylv/night/snow/moon/shadow/bat/ghost/byte/dark/gli/star/comet/snare/fang pronouns; but he/him, wolf/wolfs, comet/comets, moon/moons, sylv/sylvs, and gli/glitch pronouns are preferred currently.

The fandoms I'm in are:

Sally Face (my special interest)

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door

The Amazing Digital Circus

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Your Turn To Die

The Owl House

Pokemon

Pizza Tower

Omori

SMG4

Cookie Run Kingdom I guess?

I’m not in the do fandom but I (critically) like Danganronpa. Definitely haven’t ranted for several paragraphs about Danganronpa both critically and positively to my brother

and Fnaf on occasions

I'm fictionkin and my fictotypes are:

small edit: many of these do not have sources listed due to me no longer wanting to associate with said sources but these fictotypes and copinglinks are still very important to my identity so I will still list them

Sal Fisher (Sally Face)

Larry Johnson (Sally Face)

Cyn Dherr

Polaris Army Klepsky

Marco Polo Klepsky

Chem Mick Ill

Berry “Errie” Small Fortune

Siri Descent

Sugar Rush

Brigh T Howtlook

Donnie (RotTMNT)

Randy Cunningham (Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja)

Sunny (Omori)

Rio Ranger (Your Turn To Die)

Alice Yabusame (Your Turn To Die)

Hunter (The Owl House)

The Collector (The Owl House)

Lolbit (Fnaf)

Allister (Pokemon Shield)

Fake Peppino (Pizza Tower)

Umbreon (Pokemon)

Sylveon (Pokemon)

I also got some copinglinks as well:

Dovewing (Warrior Cats)

Shadowsight (Warrior Cats)

Monty Gator (Fnaf SB) (idk if this is a link or a kin type but we’ll see)

Shadow Bonnie (Fnaf 2)

Withered Bonnie (Fnaf 2)

Rockstar Bonnie (Fnaf Pizza Simulator)

Rockstar Foxy (Fnaf Pizza Simulator)

Lefty (Fnaf Pizza Simulator)

Mae Borowski (NitW)

Zorua (Pokemon)

Bendy (BatDR)

Kiki Pilaris

Caroline Coughs

Frosty Klepsky

Bea D Time

Ribbon Pop

I'm also currently stuck in a Sal Fisher kinshift so that's fun I guess

I also selfship sometimes (mainly due to being fictionkin), here are my f/o's:

Ashley Campbell (Sally Face)

Travis Phelps (Sally Face)

Elliot Drew (my oc) (please don't ask please don't ask please don't a-)

Vivian (Paper Mario)

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu (Danganronpa 2)

Peko Pekoyama (Danganronpa 2)

Pure Vanilla Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Dark Choco Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Licorice Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Red Velvet Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Cream Unicorm Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Capsaicin Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Prune Juice Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Peach Blossom Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

Burning Spice Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

K1-B0/Kiibo (Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony)

Party Favor (MLP)

Limestone Pie (MLP)

Prince Pharynx (MLP)

King Sombra (MLP)

I'll usually be drawing stuff about the fandoms I'm in (mostly sally face or sparklecare) but there'll sometimes be stuff about ocs at some point.

So yeah have fun in my little jester domain :)

[theenpcbracket]

Seeding Round: Poll 6

Image IDs included! Click the images to see the full character please!

More about each NPC below the cut!

Character Descriptions are in the order of their appearance in the poll!

Character 1

Name: HE Party: The Misdemeanor Mateys Relationship to party: Businessman, aggrivating party stalker, final boss

What makes them the best NPC: Mysterious tiny man with static for a head, and the loudest screechiest voice you can imagine (DM once blew out their vocal chords because of him). Levitates and teleports at will, and can pop objects in and out of existence. Runs a business granting magical favors. Originally tried to hire the party to help his business but the group said "fuck no". Now regularly pops in to nag, cause trouble, or play meme songs on a calliope, and occasionally provides useful information. HE controls an alternate dimension called the Mercantile Pile full of items from different times and places, including lots of modern-day technology (unlike the D&D campaign setting). He can be summoned by writing out his name. His calling card is a 7 of Spades, which he can also use to influence the world & cast spells remotely. HE mainly wears business suits & suspenders, but has also appeared in a hazmat suit (riding a tricycle), turtleneck sweater and thigh holster, wetsuit with suspenders painted on, sequin jacket with '69' on the back, peacock burlesque, and nurse drag outfit. He once killed 20 guards with a snap of his fingers. He also destroyed a walkman with a flamethrower. Implied to be the father of the ultra-powerful kid whose primary pastime is handing out enchanted "friendship nuggets" [chicken]. His #1 business competitor is Michael's Wonder Emporium. Eventually turns out to be one of the most central characters to the story.

Quote: "STAY OFF MY THRONE!" "You're going to call me when you need me!"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 2

Name: Parsnip Party: Soup Squad Relationship to party: [Submitter's PC, Barley's] pocket frog/run off prince from a nearby land

What makes them the best NPC: Tumblr sexyman material, and has fighter stats as a druid. He uses wildshape for the express purpose of tagging along with a literal child. This lead to him literally melting in Barley's bag once.

Quote: "So what's with the, uh, rivalry you have with the wizard that's trying to kill us, Barley?"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 3

Name: Mary Byram Party: Ambiscade Gang Relationship to party: Coworker, divorcee

What makes them the best NPC: Mary Byram is living proof that the song “No Children” by The Mountain Goats doesn’t just have to be about romantic relationships gone wrong. She’s a bright red tiefling rogue with a storied past, currently working for a guild called the Thinfingers alongside one of the party members. Previously, she worked with a tiefling rights movement called Hellflame, but something happened there that she doesn’t really talk about. She’s still passionate about both the movement and the group, though.

Our bard lovingly calls her “Mare-Bear.” She hates this. She’s a day drinker. She’s exhausted always. She cares so much but will never admit it unless under duress. I think she genuinely thinks that god cursed her by metaphorically putting her in a get-along shirt with our rogue PC. Their dynamic allowed our party to coin the term “Coworker Divorce” except they’re literally not allowed to actually get rid of each other. She is also constantly saddled with the skater-pilled rogue who was also submitted to the bracket, so she’s usually outnumbered when it comes to harebrained schemes. She’s largely anti-antics, but is down for some antics if she's in control of them. She’s a mastermind and usually gives the help bonus action either by telling people what they fucked up or by telling them NOT to fuck something up. She deserves a break she’ll simply never get.

Quote: "Thoughts?" -the warlock, asking Mary about a proposed plan. "...More than you. Apparently." -Mary

[rabbitcruiser]

From Watson Lake to Whitehorse (No. 5)

The Americans preferred Route A which, starting at Prince George, went northwest to Hazelton, along the Stikine River, by Atlin, Teslin and Tagish Lakes, and from Whitehorse, Yukon, to Fairbanks, Alaska, via the Tanana Valley. However, the route was vulnerable to possible enemy attack from the sea, experienced steep grades and heavy snowfall, and had no airbases along the way.

The Canadians favored Route B. This also started at Prince George, but followed the Rocky Mountain Trench up the valleys of the Parsnip and Finlay Rivers to Finlay Forks and Sifton Pass, then north to Frances Lake and the Pelly River in the Yukon. From there it went to Dawson City and down the Yukon Valley to connect the Richardson Highway to Fairbanks. The advantages of this inland route was the safe distance from enemy planes, and 209 miles (336 km) shorter with lower elevations enabling lower construction and maintenance costs. The disadvantages were the bypassing of respective airbases, and Whitehorse, the principal town in the Yukon. Optional variations in the southern portion of this route were via Vanderhoof to the west or Monkman Pass to the east.

Route C, the Prairie option, advocated by the United States Army Corps of Engineers, was the only practical one. It was far enough inland from enemy planes and it linked the airfields of the Northwest Staging Route that conveyed lend-lease aircraft from the United States to the Soviet Union. This option encountered more level terrain, not ascending a pass over 4,250 feet (1,300 m). There was also a railhead at Dawson Creek, British Columbia, and a winter trail from there to Fort Nelson, 300 miles (480 km) to the northwest. It followed the Rocky Mountain Trench toward Dawson City before turning west to Fairbanks.

Source: Wikipedia

[thewolfparadox-things]

Hircine's Feast

Hircine's Feast

Hircine is the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, so it's fitting that his feast would feature hearty, gamey meats and other foods associated with the wild. Here is a simple meal plan that worshipers of Hircine might eat at a feast in his honor:

Appetizer:

Wild boar carpaccio: Thinly sliced wild boar meat drizzled with olive oil, lemon juice, and shaved Parmesan cheese.

Smoked venison terrine: A pâté made with smoked venison, pork, and herbs, served with toasted bread and cornichons.

Main course:

Roasted elk: A whole elk roasted over an open fire, served with roasted potatoes and vegetables.

Braised rabbit: Rabbit braised in red wine with mushrooms, onions, and carrots, served with mashed potatoes or polenta.

Grilled venison steak: Venison steak grilled to perfection and served with your favorite sides.

Side dishes:

Roasted potatoes: Potatoes roasted in olive oil, garlic, and herbs.

Roasted vegetables: A variety of roasted vegetables, such as carrots, parsnips, Brussels sprouts, and sweet potatoes.

Mashed potatoes: Creamy, buttery mashed potatoes.

Polenta: A hearty cornmeal porridge.

Dessert:

Apple pie: A classic apple pie, made with fresh apples and a flaky crust.

Pumpkin pie: A delicious pumpkin pie, perfect for the fall season.

Chocolate mousse: A rich and decadent chocolate mousse, perfect for a special occasion.

Drinks:

Ale: A hearty ale, perfect for washing down a feast.

Mead: A sweet and honeyed mead, perfect for celebrating.

Wine: A red wine, such as Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot, pairs well with the gamey meats on the menu.

[plasticpasteries]

here's a list of lore tidbits I keep forgetting about but feel I should mention

Crow fest:

The Sugarpines have a corgi named Ajax

Similarly, The Hillberrys had a cat, but she kinda ran off after Matthew died

William is both arachnophobic and mysophobic

Allen is every type of phobic :)

Matthew used to be a newsboy

Darrel carries cards on him at all times

At Felix and William's job, there's a chalkboard that tallies how many times Will has tripped that shift. It's usually at 7 halfway in.

Matthew has twitter and has been called a dilf several times

Magma:

Rex is bilingual

Rex is a super fan of Internet Shutdown, and basically lost his goddamn mind when Kyle moved in nextdoor.

Noah has two siblings that he never talks about because they sucked.

There was this plastic eating bug that almost mauled a dude to death

the plot is about Noah being cursed.

Anything But Norman

Norman accidentally got a royal status because he unknowingly married a literal goddamn prince.

Dew wants to do music instead, so he basically pulled a "I don't want to run the family business>:("

Norman has this strange fixation on Alshguardians

Norman almost burnt a clown themed restaurant down because his arm was chopped off by a warrior cats roleplayer

Garden of Ash

The entire reason that Thyme, an almost 50 something year old man, has beef with Barley is he was supposed be in his care

Parsnip and Sage have never made out

Chives was dragged along for the ride

Charles von Challéce III used to run a cult environmentalism based religion

Thyme has 15 lizards. He throws the lizards at people and tells them they're baby dragons just to cause chaos

Thyme cut of his own tits before remembering magic exists

And uh that's it