#Muriel Hobblepot
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Shiny Gold Coins, a super no stakes gen fic about markets and food and friends and all things soft and wonderful (also on ao3)
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A stack of shiny gold coins—Graham’s first wages as an actual knight of Daventry, what a thought—rattled in his pocket. It was a cheerful jingle that put even more of a spring in his step than he usually had. He should send most of it home, like he’d promised he’d do with his first paycheck. But he figured his family would understand if he didn’t.
Because Daventry was holding its last farmers market of the season.
Daventry’s sheer beauty still caught him off guard, even after a handful of weeks living here and calling it home. The autumn morning practically glittered, hardly a cloud in the endless sky. It promised to get awfully hot later, summer giving one final hurrah before giving way to icy winds, but for right now it was perfect. Birds and squirrels chirped and chattered in the trees around him, and he inhaled deeply, the sweet air full of promises.
Promises of baked goods, specifically. He knew Wente had been prepping for this day for a week, his ovens hardly ever allowed to cool. He could taste sugar on the air as he neared town.
The market was supposed to be held in the town square, but the walled town had its limits, and the market had grown over the years. Booths spilled out of the open gate, lining the front entrance. Tablecloths and tents flapped in the breeze, held in place by a dizzying array of goods of all types. Crafts and foods and art and all kinds of wonderful trinkets magical and mundane.
Daventry townsfolk were freely wandering between the stalls, chatting and laughing, but Graham saw plenty of people he didn’t recognize, too—travelers from all over. People from further afield in Daventry, like Mannerly Stove, sure, but more than that. He saw some Serenian style cloaks, and he was certain that the little sunburned group over there was made of Llewdorians. According to Amaya, the market was a popular destination, and the last one of the season always drew a crowd. She especially liked it since it was one of the few times she was sure to get a customer base that could afford her wares properly.
Speaking of Amaya. Her booth was right in front of her forge. It gave off a metallic tang of oil, almost spicy, and sharp things glinted in the sunlight. At least for half of it. With geometrical precision, her table was divided in half, not one thing allowed to cross into the other half. One side was full of weaponry, and the other side…petunias.
“And they are most lovely,” Amaya said sternly when she saw him looking. Each multicolored bouquet was beautifully arranged, and not a single petal so much as shivered over the invisible line dividing her table between weapons and flowers. Not just petunias. Roses and sunflowers and all kinds of other flowers he didn’t recognize.
“From your garden?” he asked.
“I always grow a section for this. Besides, the first frost’ll be here before we know it. Better to send them off to a good home before that.”
“They grow up so fast,” Graham joked.
She chucked an acorn at him.
“How much?” he asked, ducking and laughing.
“One shiny gold coin, of course.”
Flowers would definitely make his little knight-assigned tower room look great and smell nice, and he could press and dry them after to make the winter feel brighter. He hadn’t done much to decorate yet—the pumpkin lantern was on the bedside table, and he’d pinned up his favorite rumpled map of Daventry. The map was worn soft as Triumph’s belly from repeated wear and tear, folding and unfolding, tracing his fingers along the paths he’d meant to walk, someday. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d made it, that the landscape outside his window was the same as what was printed on his paper. He’d also pinned up a little picture, an entrance form. Not his entrance form. Someone else’s. Something small, and special, and important.
He flipped a coin at Amaya, which she deftly caught, and she let him choose his favorite pot. He went for something with a ton of purple, his smile a little sadder than before as he made his selection. His fingers traced the delicate petals, and he inhaled deeply. But it wasn’t just flowers he could smell—Wente’s booth was just over there, and Graham knew where he was headed next. He held the pot in the crook of his elbow and happily wandered over, boots ringing against cobblestones.
It was a good thing his cloak had lots of pockets, he thought, as he studied trays upon trays of every baked treat he could think of, and plenty more he couldn’t. Pies, of course, and tarts, and cupcakes, and loaves of bread still steaming in the sunlight. Studded with nuts, cheese, chocolate chips, berries, and more wild things like starberries and sugarshrooms and—
“Graham!” Wente eased himself around the edge of the stall, going for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it! Is that strudel? I didn’t get to try it at the tournament.”
“Heard Princess Madeline had a sweet tooth.”
“And a good sense of vengeance for Acorn’s sake.”
“Did you know he’s here? He got a booth after all! He’s just over there!”
“Oh! That’s really good! I wasn’t sure if he would, he’d been so nervous about going for it.” Graham waved, but Acorn didn’t notice him over the crowd. He’d have to go over to say hi properly.
“Wish he hadn’t,” Chester interrupted. He’d been standing at the corner of Wente’s table, with a perfectly innocent look on his face that didn’t match the crumbs all over his tunic. “He’s doing folk art, the lowest craft you can imagine.”
“Now, Chester, you know a good piece of art can feel like a warm hug for your eyes!” Wente said. “And that’ll be a gold coin for all those muffins, thanks.”
“I can craft you a better potion that’ll actually hug your eyes,” Chester grumbled, passing over a grubby coin and shaking crumbs into the cobblestones. “None of this knitwear, how embarrassing. Come to our booth, boy, and we’ll show you some properly interesting art. Of the magical kind.”
First, Graham loaded his pockets with all kinds of treats and snacks. Wente handed over a couple soft loaves of bread that smelled of rosemary and lavender, chocolate chip cupcakes, and other berry-filled treats, asking for just a single gold coin in return. Then, with a wink, he tossed in a free walnut strudel. “Enjoy the rest of the market,” he said brightly.
“Graham!” Muriel chirped, waving him over to her stand next door. “Or, is it Sir Graham, now?”
“Yep!” Graham beamed.
“I can hardly believe it,” she said. “Seems like that tournament was only yesterday. How’s castle life treating you?”
“Really great, I’ve got my own room, and Royal Guard Number One’s been teaching me the marches, and I’ve been practicing my archery. King Edward said something about my first quest soon, I think he wants to send me up to the Cliffs of Insanity—I guess we need iocane powder for something, from the flowers there?”
“Oh, that’s for us!” Muriel said. “Some rare and miraculous ingredients are too hard for even that Merchant to get his hands on. You’ve got to send knights off on those quests sometimes.”
“What’s it for?”
“I can’t recall. Some order. I’ll have to double check what it’s supposed to make. You be careful handling those flowers, though, they can make you sick if you touch them with your bare skin.”
“I shall be cautious in all my flower picking,” he said, with a sharp salute.
“But before all that, anything you’re looking for in the market?” she asked. She spread her hands wide, showing off the table in front of her. It was littered with tiny little bottles full of interesting things, glittery potions and funny trinkets. Some glass marbles moved under their own power, spinning gently, with what looked like galaxies held in their centers. She had spell books arranged in a teetering pile, and feathers pinned under glass, and rings and necklaces that glowed even in the sunlight.
“Just looking,” Graham said. And then something caught his eye. “Oooh, what’s that?”
A little brooch sat on the table, half buried behind all the other bits and baubles and things. It was the little red gems that had caught his attention, rubies flashing in the sunlight.
“It’s a cloak pin,” she said. “You like it? It’s the same type I use for my shawl.”
“I kinda do, yeah.” He couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from it. It didn’t feel magical, exactly, but he was drawn to it, nevertheless.
“Lean over here, boy, let me pin it on.” She gestured him forward, and he leaned close. She smelled like magic and mint, and she gently gathered up some of his cloak fabric and slipped the little brooch in place. “Now, stand back, let’s get a good look at you.” He posed for her, and she laughed. “Like it was meant to be yours!”
“How much?” He fingered it, the soft rubies almost warm against his touch.
“Oh, it looks so grand on you. It doesn’t have any magic, it’s only a little thing I made a while ago. Ages ago, now I think of it. Waiting for the right person. I think I’d be honored if you wore it, Sir Graham.”
“Plus, it’s free shop advertising for us,” Chester said.
Graham insisted on a shiny gold coin, and the Hobblepots agreed, though Muriel pushed a couple tiny vials of starlight into his hands too, for the coin. “To light your path, if it gets too dark on your quest,” she said, smiling fondly at him. “It really does look like it was made for you, you know.”
“Thank you, truly.” He’d been thinking about what he wanted his knight’s uniform to look like—knights could pick what they wanted in Daventry, and he had that minor in Creative Costuming from Knight School. He thought he could work this brooch into something great. He almost couldn’t wait to get back to the castle so he could sketch out a couple ideas, but there was still more to see here.
Acorn’s booth was next. Graham remembered how nervous Acorn had been, fussing back and forth about submitting his application to be added to the roster, and apparently he’d built up enough courage—and knitted enough stuff—to make it in. At least, partly. His nerves and time must have gotten the better of him, because he hadn’t managed to fill a whole table by himself. His booth was neatly divided in half, like Amaya’s. One half was covered in soft blankets, scarves, socks, in a huge array of colors and yarns.
The other half was Whisper.
Huge copies of Whisper’s application form, sketched to silly sizes, while the true Whisper posed in front of them and offered autographs to everyone passing by, if they looked at his posters or not. He also had a little array of pots on the table in front of him, with drawings of Whisper on them. “Whisper’s deLUX hair ointment,” they read, in beautiful looping signatures.
Royal Guard Number One was standing nearby, leaning in to whisper to Whisper. He had one of the hair ointment bottles in his gauntleted hands, rotating it almost nervously. Graham couldn’t help but lean in to listen:
“And you’re certain this works on mustaches without a problem?”
“It’ll make your face hair as silky smooth as Whisper’s top hair!”
“Yes, but, you see, the last mustache shampoo I bought from the Hobblepots turned it pink. It never washed out. I had to start over. You understand why I cannot repeat that tragedy. You swear that won’t happen with this?”
“It’s animal tested!” Whisper said brightly, pointing to a little animal drawing on the side of the label.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Whisper snuck into the royal stables and washed Graham’s gerbil with it, and Graham’s gerbil did not turn pink. It did get lovely and extra fluffy, though. Mane for days. Almost as good as Whisper’s!”
Graham nodded thoughtfully. So that’s why Triumph had been so soft last week. He’d thought it was just good castle feed. He’d have to pick up a jar of that stuff for his best buddy; Triumph deserved everything after all the hard work he’d done getting them from Llewdor to here. And…yes, the tiny animal drawing was of Triumph, not of a bunny as he’d first thought. Another shiny gold coin gone: his pockets were starting to get a bit light.
“Hey, Acorn!” he said, waving.
“Graham!” Acorn looked up from the pile of scarves he was meticulously rearranging. “Hey buddy, how’s the festival?”
“Really good so far, I’ve found some really great things. How’s business?”
“Oh, y’know, surprisingly good. I didn’t think Daventry had good taste, after that sock thing in the tournament, but everyone really loves them. Aside from the pairs the castle bought, a ton of people here want them, too!”
“That’s because they’re like walking on clouds,” Graham said, repeating something Number One had said a couple weeks ago. Nearby, Number One glanced up, then turned back to his whispered conversation about hair products. “How long did all this take you?” He ran a hand along one of the blankets, the deep blue so eye catching in the sunlight. It was ridiculously soft, and he could tell it would be wonderfully warm in winter.
“Oh, not too long. I listened to my stories while knitting.”
“Stories?”
“Squirrel chatter. Good as any gossip you get from guards. Princess Madeline has seen some things, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do…but I don’t think I want to ask.”
“Well, I want to thank you for pushing me to apply for this,” Acorn said. “I wasn’t gonna, you know. But I thought, well, with the rebranding, now’s probably a great time to really show off my stuff. Get a foothold in the town, you know.”
“So, you’re staying in Daventry?”
“Yeah. I only applied for the tournament for my parents, remember? Since that fell through, I’ve got all the time in the world, and I like it here. I think I wanna settle.”
Of all the places to end up, Daventry felt like a pretty good spot. Graham had certainly been more than happy enough with his choice so far.
Graham realized he was still touching the blanket, dragging his hand back and forth across it. It reminded him of Triumph’s fur. He thought about winter, about his little tower room that overlooked the lavender fields, and he thought about how in a few months’ time the fields would be laden with snow. “Hey, Acorn, how much for this one?”
“That’s a good one! Love the color; it’s almost the same as my cloak. Turned out super great. For that one, one shiny gold coin should do it.”
“You got it, big guy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Acorn said, rolling his eyes and catching Graham’s coin out of the air. “You got anything else you’re after today?”
“Not really. I’ll probably just wander around now, there’s all the little offshoot alleys. You could spend half the day here.” And he intended to do just that.
He could see vegetables, brightly colored fruit, bundles of lavender, and jars full of sweet golden honey. His coin purse was light, but his pockets had a comforting weight to them now instead, his hard-earned wages in the hands of his friends. The morning’s golden light glittered. The warming air smelled strongly of lavender, sugar, bread, and, just beneath it, that crisp autumn scent of Daventry itself. There were a couple bards wandering around now, too, strumming and singing. Someone selling sparkling apple cider was calling. All told, it was a perfect start to the day.
He fingered the brooch on his cloak again, this little piece of his new life pinned to his old life. He checked his pockets, to make sure none of the pies were getting smooshed or the bottle of shampoo was leaking or his beautiful purple flowers were wilting. He set off for another booth piled high with tapestries and books and maps, and another one filled with the last fruit of the season, and another filled with lavender products freshly made from Daventry’s fields. Ready to see everything this town had to offer him, all the things they had made and grown and built and loved. Just for him.
He could get used to living in a place like this.
#fic'ing#king's quest#kings quest#king graham#oh wait no everyone is in this to keep my blog organized it's about to get ugly in the tags hang on#wente fey#chester hobblepot#muriel hobblepot#amaya blackstone#acorn (king’s quest)#whisper (king's quest)#this post is protected by the royal guards#ch1#i promised i wouldn't chicken out and a promise is a promise and i swear i didn't chicken out#i'm so rusty it's been at least a year
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King's Quest Fight Bracket
Match 8 | Round 2
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PART THIRTEEN - Replaying King's Quest, Chapter One (2015)
Whisper's crying animations are the best. "LOVE ME, FROGS!"
I do like the sincerity of Graham's apology to Acorn. Things did get a little out of hand and weird - though I bet that's hard to keep track of, because this whole day has been a sliding scale of weird.
Well, it goes without saying that most writers are writers, but never is it more evident than the moment Acorn receives a compliment on his artistic endeavour and turns from furious to a ray of sunshine.
I forgot Amaya was raised in Llewdor. Even though Graham is never specifically said to be from Llewdor, there are enough hints that he is that it's kind of funny he didn't comment. (By chance, this works well with my disgraced Hereward headcanon.)
I didn't remember all the exchanges you can have with the townsfolk when they come outside. It's so fun to chat with them and hear less familiar lines.
Muriel says King Edward doesn't seem as interested in expanding Daventry anymore. Expanding physically? Did that used to be a goal? Interesting.
You know, I kind of love the dynamic my clever Graham has got going on with the Hobblepots in this runthrough. All the little affirmation moments are sweet, and it makes it fun that they're so fond of Graham even though I had him lie to them in this version and they kept him locked out of the shop just for fun, even though they knew it was him. They love the trickery and shenanigans after all. Even though it's not my normal Graham, I kind of love this subtly different take on him and this special closeness with them.
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I know I'm late to the party, but if you're still doing the whump meme, then maybe #2 with Graham?
2 - “I- I can’t see! I can’t see anything!”
Silence and nothingness was the best description Graham could must in his current predicament as his consciousness was slowly returning to him... whatever that predicament may be. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what got him into this predicament as everything felt like a blur at best and the more he attempted to recall, the harder it was to actually recover his memory.
Maybe, he thought, maybe if I opened my eyes... I can see where I am, and I’ll remember.
Taking a breath, he wearily attempted to open his eyes, finding the task to be a lot harder than he thought it would. Another breath and another attempt and Graham slowly opened his eyes from the darkness to see... more darkness.
What? No. That couldn’t be right.
His eyes had to be open unless he was in one of those dreams that made him think he was awake but in truth was still dreaming. He tried a third time, this attempt being to wake up from his dream but once more he saw nothing by darkness. He touched his face and felt no bandages, so why... why couldn’t he see anything? What was going on?
He soon heard the sounds of footsteps and voices but he couldn’t see any of them. His breathing sped up as he gripped his, what he’d imagine, bed sheets. “H...help!” He called out desperately. “Help!” The footsteps got closer and he could hear them walking around him.
“Now now...” a male voice spoke up, a rough and yet gentle hand placed on his arm to hold him down. “Deep breaths, it’s going to be alright.”
“I- I can’t see! I can’t see anything!” Graham cried out.
“Well, of course not, dear. The medicine has that side effect. It’s just temporary.” A female voice then spoke. “Just breathe, dear.”
It was hard to breathe when his sight was gone, but something about their voices calmed him-- wait. He slowly started to recall in his mind what they looked like, realizing he could have remembered who they were if he wasn’t in the midst of a full blown panic.
“M...Mrs. Hobblepot?”
“Chester is here too, dear.”
“Hello, Graham!”
“What... what happened?” Graham croaked. “Why can’t I see?”
“You caught a nasty illness when you came back out from the goblin underground that the knights called us to come and help you.” Muriel explained. “We knew this was a side effect, it should go away in a couple of hours.”
The goblin underground? What was he doing inside of the-- oh. Right. Graham took a shuddering breath and his body sagged, feeling Chester let go of him.
“Just relax, Your Majesty.” He calmly told the young king. “You’re going to be alright.”
(x)
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“I want to tell you.” That’s honest, at least. “I’m tired of hiding it. I think…I think telling someone will help. I’m just…I’m not sure where to start.”
She straightens up, hands clasped in front of her, listening intently. “At the beginning is a good place. Do you remember how it started?"
Deep breath. You can do this. "Of course. It's the rest of it that's more difficult to recall…"
~*~*~
A cover of sorts for a most gorgeous fic, “watch yourself beg hanging on to earth” by @goddessoftechnology
#kings quest#king's quest#king graham#this post is protected by the royal guards#Muriel Hobblepot#Manannan#ch2#goddessoftechnology#i live for marionette imagery
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Whumptober 2022 | Day 6
Ransom Video | “I’ve got a pulse” | Screams from Across the Hall
Kyle took Larry's stiff hand, intertwining coarse fingers. The commotion from a few days ago had settled - the infiltration that stunned them all, and left many to rot in the shadow of their aching hearts. Kyle was one of the many to have taken a hit, but Larry was the one genuinely hit. The long, winding blast of a scar still shimmered in green, and Kyle cursed the fates for it.
Kyle sat down on a stool next to the infirmary bed and pressed his forehead against Larry's. It all felt so cold. Horrible thoughts hit him, fists against glass, sending tears down his cheeks. He didn't want to live on without someone by his side.
"Larry..." Kyle croaked.
Mrs. Hobblepot put a finger to her lips. Kyle hushed.
"I think..." She mused, "...I've got a pulse."
Kyle froze, wiping tears away. "...Does that mean...?"
Mrs. Hobblepot sighed, smiling up at Kyle. "There's still hope."
#whumptober 2022#no.6#I've got a pulse#kings quest#traditional art#fanart#near-death#death mention#whumptober#kyle#larry#muriel hobblepot
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King's Quest Fight Bracket
Match 4 | Round 3
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PART ELEVEN - Replaying King's Quest, Chapter Three (2016)
I never let Manny and Mordon catch Graham in the cavern before! Green magic smoke bomb! And "Inconceivable!" (All this time I wondered why they never took the opportunity for someone to make that joke. I will never doubt again.)
Interesting that the enchantment of Hagatha's power stunted the power of the cosmolotion, at least according to Manny. The idea of magic-weakening spaces would be an interesting one to explore.
I wonder how much Manny truly believes his quest is altruistic to prove that goblins have dignity and possibility for higher thought. How honest is he with himself? Did he ever really have a less tainted vision, which was ruined by bitterness, or is this just what he tells himself when it's always been about jealousy and resentment from the beginning?
I never registered how we get a tiny little motif of Graham's theme when Manny calls him a fluke.
"Did I ever tell you he asked what my availability for sleepovers was? Moron!" (Jumps on the bed and out bounces Graham. The guy just invites himself over for sleepovers. He will not be put off. He's going to make it happen. He brought jelly beans.)
Gwendolyn has her grandfather's eyes.
Aw, it's kind of sweet visiting the Hobblepots in Tanalore after playing a Chapter One where Graham really invested in them!
Muriel's Hawaiian version of her usual look. :-)
Who is running the eatery that advertises Frog Dog Fridays? The goblins? I mean, they do have a presence here.
Chester wearing a blue and purple bathing suit but still wearing his full body long johns under it. Got to avoid sunburn, you know.
I love how this game occasionally likes to poke fun at moon logic. The Merchant giving Graham a hard time for offering him a hatchet as a solution to his cartwheel problem(cut down a rubber tree plant and WEAVE it into a wheel!), or Graham creating that wheel of buckets thing to somehow help him with quicksand (it doesn't even do anything to lessen the level of the sand!)
Actually, Vee's rescue with the vine was as much a feat of strength as intelligence, the way she heaved him into the air with one quick tug. She shouldn't be too hard on him if he chooses the strength option at the bridge.
You know, just for that, I'm going with the strength option at the bridge. It's funny.
I love that we're sticking with the chapter two strength rating of stones chained to whatever the thing you're trying to shift is. In this case it's one rock but it must weigh a TON.
While I can do a few mental justifications for it, the flippant tone of the shooting goblins with Vee scene has never quite rung true for me after the Adventure of Chapter Two? There has been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and Graham has done a lot of work on himself since, I'm sure, but all the same. It feels weird. I would expect a slightly more serious approach to dealing with them.
If this is such a popular holiday spot, I am surprised no one has solved that puzzle box and taken the proclaimedly magical hourglass.
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King's Quest Fight Bracket
Match 13 | Round 1
(Thanku to @gerbiloftriumph for permission to use the lovely art of Telgrin!)
#telgrin#telgrin kq#muriel kq#kings quest#polls#kqfightbracket2023#- three polls will be queued! please vote on all three!#- (they come 5 mins after eachother)
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Uh hey here’s my King’s Quest fic
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41017731
Royal Guard Number One was really the only person in Daventry who worried about thieves. He really seemed to think his two swords were the only things standing between the town and a complete bandit ransack. The way the townsfolk left their doors open, even at night or when they were out, was a longstanding source of frustration. He had once paid out of pocket for a “Lot’s Make Daventry Locked for Everyone!” poster campaign. He’d walked straight into everyone’s kitchens and parlours to hang the posters, without knocking. Everyone grumbled and called him a snoopy housebreaker, and no one started locking their doors.
So it was all he could do to keep from running to the ramparts and crying, “Told you so,” when the rash of robberies hit.
At first it was just pumpkins from the patch south of town, and fruit off the royal trees. Surely just hungry animals, the people said. They picked through my trash too. Yeah, they made a mess of mine too, greedy beggars. Badgers, most likely. I had to get a trap from Chester and Muriel. Funny though. Didn’t think badgers liked pumpkins. Wouldn’ta thought they could carry them off, either. Hm – yeah. That is odd. Maybe they ate them on the spot. All those pumpkins in one night? Maaaaybe. Rummest thing I ever heard of. We’ve had badgers forever, and they’ve never done this.
“I woulda thought the fruit would be safe at least,” Number Two muttered. “I always sleep with the fruit picker under my pillow, just in case.”
“In case what?” Number One sneered.
“Emergencies. You know.”
“You don’t think it’s possible the fruit was picked without the picker?”
“It’s a thought.”
They had to discard the animal theory altogether once it turned into shop robberies.
Wente didn’t like to make a fuss over someone taking a shelf’s worth of bread. The poor souls probably needed it, he reasoned. If only they’d felt comfortable enough to some in and talk it over with him first. He might have been able to do them more good than just the bread. Bramble had to talk him out of hanging a sign on the door that read, “Criminals welcome – free hugs.”
Most of the odds and ends taken from the Hobblepots’ apothecary weren’t of much consequence, but eternal flame lanterns in good condition were valuable, and the theft sent them into a snit. She and Chester both claimed that of course they were intelligent enough to lock their doors, but that they assumed the other was too, and that was perhaps assuming too much. The quarrel died down once Muriel ordered a four-key chromium lock and Chester got some mantis jerky in him, but it was all very upsetting. They never tired of telling Amaya, who hadn’t been hit yet, to be on her guard and order a lock too.”
“No need,” said Amaya, fingering the blade she’d just finished embellishing. “I want ‘em to come in. If I’m gonna stay up all night on their account, I better get a decent chance to bash ‘em.”
#Thank you so much for the prompt!#:-) I love the way you began this fic! It was tremendously fun to work with#and I love the way you set the situation up - so grounded in those familiar locations we know so well! I haven't played Little Nightmare#which is why I stuck to rewriting the beginning#but it was delightful and now I may have to go on and read the rest of it!
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i have been given the push by @thewatercolours to do headcanon ramble so uhh idk where to start, there are too many...
...how about insomniac duo? Larry and Rg1 bonding over their many sleepless nights.
No.1 is known (by No.2, the Hobblepots, and when he learns of it, Larry as well) for his sleep habits. He often falls asleep at his desk, but he did bring in a couch to his office for a reason! It's not often he'll be seen properly sleeping in the barracks. No.2 and Muriel have been trying to push him to improve, and he does try to make efforts when it's convenient - though work and stress can get in the way.
Larry's sleep issues aren't as prominent, though then again he sleeps in the barracks with Kyle. Chronic pain isn't nice, and it keeps him up much later than Kyle sleeps - Kyle falls asleep in around five to ten minutes, Larry stays up hours after that. Larry isn't particularly a big fan of resorting to medication or admitting he needs the help, so he usually stares up at the ceiling until he passes out. He says it's a method that works, one that he's been using since childhood.
For when staying up and staring at the ceiling doesn't work, there's still walking around the castle and trying not to get caught by the guards doing the night shift?
One night, when Larry was wandering around the castle, he spotted light streaming out of No1's office. They chatted for a while, Larry wasn't particularly close with No1 at the time, just saw him as the captain and nothing more. They thought this was going to be a one-time interaction - it was not.
(might reboogle with more thoughts, I don't wanna just put everything here lols)
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King's Quest Headcanon:
Just realized Muriel's pendant is the same as Graham's cloak clasp, but with purple stones rather than red. The Doyleian reason for this probably has to do with saving money on design and animation, BUT my Watsonian reason and new headcanon is that Muriel is not just crafty in the quick-witted sense. Graham is not wearing that clasp on his first day in Daventry. I think somewhere along the line she made it and gifted it to him.
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How King's Quest, Chapter 2 Should Have Ended
OLD KING GRAHAM v.o.: I was off to seek an audience with the Goblin King. If I could get my hands on his key, perhaps I could set the other prisoners free...
YOUNG GRAHAM: Thanks for agreeing to come along, Chester. Now, before we leave: there's definitely a risk we could be spotted in the tunnels, but if that happens, I want you to jump in my cloak and...
MURIEL: WHAT? You boys get back here this minute! Now, Graham, what was that you were saying... about jumping in your cloak?
YOUNG GRAHAM: Oh, there's plenty of room in the pockets. I've carried tabletops, pumpkins bigger than I am, army-sized pies...
MURIEL: And the cloak moves the same way it does when the pockets are empty?
YOUNG GRAHAM. Sure. I've got at least a dozen large things in it right now, and you can -
MURIEL: (collaring him) WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THIS TWO WEEKS AGO?!?!
Intercut sequence: Graham, standing with his back to various cells, casually letting his cape drape through the bars, while the prisoners quietly slip into pockets, each time with an inventory "d-d-ding!" Graham casually walks away as the goblins go into hysterics behind him wondering how the prisoners just vanished...
Back to scene:
GRAHAM: (gulping as Muriel peers into his face) Yeah, that would make sense...
THE END
Royal Guards in pig noses left undiscovered at the Goblin Palace: *Collective sigh.*
Roll credits.
#King's quest#kings quest#King's quest memes#kings quest memes#king graham#muriel hobblepot#king's quest funny#how it should have ended#hishe
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If he was a little banged and bruised and scuffed up, well, that was fine: he was back safely in their protection, and the physical marks would heal. If his skin was a little hotter than expected, well, that was fine too: it was probably just the warm water and the air by the fireplace. And if he was starting to look a little more gaunt as they gently wrapped him in his sheets in his bed, it wasn’t anything to worry about: it was just a trick of the fire and candlelight.
After all, he was back and safe. Everything would be fine. What more could possibly happen?
Long white nightshirt, green ice scale, and a healthy amount of delirious worry over post-chapter-two illness all bottled up in the fic Captive Crown.
6: Sick Day
(part of a june-ish-tober challenge with @goddessoftechnology and @captmickey!)
#an in-flu-ential fic? am i allowed to say that about my own stuff?#kings quest#King Graham#King's Quest#Muriel Hobblepot#captmickey#goddessoftechnology#ch2
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Once upon a time, there lived a brave goblin who loved adventures. His adventures were so legendary, the goblins decided to make him king. But the goblin adventurer was overwhelmed with the work it took to run a successful kingdom…until he realized that he wasn’t here just to continue the previous legacy. He was here to create his own.
#and thus caps off the fairy tale series#King Graham#kings quest#King's Quest#wente fey#bramble fey#chester hobblepot#Muriel Hobblepot#amaya blackstone#goblin appreciation blog#once upon a series#ch2
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Happy 5th Anniversary Week to King’s Quest 2015, a game that inspired endless hours of creativity, encouraging me to cosplay, illustrate, write, learn, and grow steadily forward, exploring new paths along the way.
(2/5)
#kqanniversary#kings quest#King's Quest#King Graham#amaya blackstone#bramble fey#wente fey#chester hobblepot#Muriel Hobblepot#ch2#i've also learned it's okay to just lean into your interests and not feel guilty about it
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