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#Grumpkin
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Grumpkin and his skins from the game OBAKEIDORO! / Bail or Jail
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catfindr · 6 months
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hsuits · 2 years
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We have a surprise bonus drop today! Head over to our page to check out the Grumpkin, a seasonal monster with a nasty attitude. Up Now!
EDIT: This one is a **FREEBIE** visible to the public
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AGoT was absolutely making some big statementsᵀᴹ re deconstructing unrealistic fantasies and how they make tragedies out of children, with Jon, Bran, and Sansa being the main vehicles for this commentary. They are basically three different versions of GRRM’s critique on the genre. All three had built life expectations based on the songs fed to them as children, but had to have those dreams and aspirations (very) violently shattered as they were thrust into a world that didn’t care how it made corpses out of them. They have all been made victims of fantasy’s violence in a tragic process that is believed to be the natural order.
Sansa realizes in time that the songs didn’t paint the full picture. The singers neglected to warn her that not all handsome princes are kind, and not all knights actually understand the contradictions in the vows they swore; some don’t really care to in the first place. She learns that the handsome prince she loves can brutalize her through the very knights who should protect her (an innocent maiden). Though he doesn’t know it yet, it was Bran’s very ideal that almost killed him. He wanted to be Barristan the Bold, a valiant knight of the kingsguard. But it was a member of this “noble” order that tried to murder him (and thus made his hopes and dreams impossible) because he witnessed him betraying the man and institution he swore allegiance to. And Jon, like Bran, wanted to be the valiant hero. He banked on the songs which propagandized the Night’s Watch and their noble exploits. Then he actually joined the watch and came to learn that this “noble” order is an oppressive xenophobic force; and the contradictions presented when the oppressed (a bastard boy with little social status) unwittingly becomes an oppressor (him initially buying into the propaganda that the wildlings shouldn’t be a protected class).
Once all is said and done, all three children are forced to take on roles that couldn’t be farther from what they envisioned. Sansa is a princess hopping from one tower to the other, forced to cater to the whims of abusive men. Bran is a crippled boy who unlocks a magical power that he doesn’t really care for; he wanted to be a knight not a magician for crying out loud! And Jon does become Lord Commander as he wished, but he is utterly depressed and lonely when he’s made to foreswear family ties and drive his friends away once he gains power over them.
But the cool thing is, in the very same way that fantasy is deconstructed through them, it is also reconstructed and given new meaning as they find a place for themselves in the world in spite of their tragedies. Sansa is still a pretty princess in a tower, but she is learning to be her own rescuer and she has managed to retain empathy and kindness in an environment that tried to tell her how futile it would all be. Bran may be crippled and incapable of becoming Brandon the Bold, but he has reinvented what it means to go on the hero’s adventure and he is beginning to build a role as the Prince of the North. And Jon may be a bastard, yet he has somehow become the living embodiment of what it is to be the valiant prince that little children love to dream about.
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frickafracken · 6 months
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Went to the renfair, got a grumpkin
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kitchen-coven · 1 year
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I'm just waiting here for an email to come through saying I got my switch and can pick it up from The Store I'm just
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whERe EMail??
WheRe SWItch??
plEAse???
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cartoon-sheep · 6 months
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Grumpkins
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slocotion · 2 years
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Nine miniature dolls going up in my shop this Sunday, 23rd Oct, at 16:00 (Irish Standard Time)
In order: Winter Lullaby, Spring Lullaby, Starbloom, Lucky Rainbow, Nightfall, Grindlekin, Grumpkin, Bumpkin and Count Bourbon.
Each doll is handmade from cotton mix fabrics, ribbon and wood (hand-painted with acrylics and glaze). They all have a ribbon loop so they can be hung from things like frame hooks or branches!
More details, photos & price previews up in my store:
https://slocotion.bigcartel.com/
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daenerystargaryen06 · 5 months
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Jon Snow meeting Daenerys
Based on my rewatch of GoT with my friend, I found that I really don't like the meeting D&D created between Jon Snow and Daenerys. What could have been a monumental and great scene between two amazing characters meeting for the first time after going through all they did- it just pisses me off and feels bitter over the way D&D handled it.
My biggest gripe is the way they handled Jon going to Daenerys to ask for her help against the WW within the show. Not even ask, more like demand, without giving Daenerys anything in return.
Jon, when arriving within Dragonstone, knew that Daenerys had an ongoing war occurring against Cersei. Daenerys was declaring herself Queen of the 7k, she was vying for the throne, and was obviously going to war against Cersei for said throne. War is never easy. Dealing with Cersei (mainly within the show) wasn't going to be a cake-walk (mainly because Tyrion was written as the sympathetic man who needed to 'keep Daenerys' temper in check and give her crap for plans'). Jon knows that wars take up time, require heavy focus and planning, need men and resources, etc. yet he decides to ask Daenerys to drop her war against Cersei and help him fight against magical walking dead creatures that exist on the other side of the Wall without giving Daenerys anything in return.
This is not how any sort of politicking works. Jon can't just waltz in and expect Daenerys to drop her war against Cersei (someone Jon knows is a crazed lunatic who wants his family dead and anyone else that she considers her enemy and the North under her rule) just because he states that these magical walking dead men exist without bringing proof nor giving Daenerys something in return for what he wants.
Jon also knows that the people of Westeros aren't going to believe in the WW just because he says they exist. This was shown even in the first episode of season 1 when Ned executes a deserter from the Night's Watch who said the WW returned and nobody believed him! Tyrion and many other characters referred to the WW as nothing but 'grumpkins' and 'snarks'. Hell, even Jon himself didn't believe the WW's existence until he got attacked by one himself. This is lazy writing on D&D's part. Having a character miraculously think his word alone would convince others (especially a Queen who he needs the help of) that the WW exist without any form of proof or giving something in return for their help, and somehow 'forgetting' all the experience he went through of people discounting the WW existing from the very first season despite them having returned.
This just made Jon appear incompetent, forgetful, and demanding.
I also dislike this scene for the implication it gives- 'poor Jon Snow needs to convince the arrogant Dragon Queen that the WW exist and are a threat to humanity'. Let's be real here. Nobody else knows the WW exist, especially not Daenerys who lived a majority of her life within Essos (excluding book!Dany that is- due to her dream of riding into battle against the Others upon the Trident). Daenerys has a perfectly viable reason not to trust what Jon is saying, nor to suddenly drop her war against Cersei just because he demands her help, especially when he doesn't give anything in return for her! This man deadass looked Daenerys in the eye and basically said: "Yeah, I need you to drop your war with Cersei, come North and give all your power into helping me fight against dead men that nobody else believes in. Oh, and I don't have anything to give you in return, and I won't bend the knee because idk you. K, thanks."
This was obviously very poor negotiation which would definitely not happen within the books. D&D made Dany more hardened, and the way they framed the scene with her and Jon made it seem like they wanted to further play into the slow descent of attempting to pit the audience against her. I have seen people say that Daenerys was too 'arrogant' and 'egotistical' in this scene with Jon due to the way D&D framed the interaction and characters within this. Not to mention the fact that afterwards they had Tyrion be the one to start negotiations with Jon for his alliance AFTER his dumb plans costed Dany her allies in the first place. When we all know book!Dany to be politically savvy, intelligent, and a negotiator/compromiser. It just painted Daenerys in a bad light overall. Even for show!Dany, how do people seriously expect her to be willing to immediately agree to Jon, drop her entire campaign against Cersei, go North, and give her power for some random man that comes to her and says 'magical walking dead men exist and I need your help to fight them' without having a compromise/input from Jon for her aid? The ONLY thing Daenerys wanted from Jon was for him to bend the knee and acknowledge her as Queen, and she would have helped him.
And let's be honest here- I get that the North fought for their freedom and such but that was only due to Cersei and the Lannister's after Ned's execution. There was the quote from the show- "it was the dragons we bowed to." Now dragons are back. Jon admitted that even just after meeting Daenerys she was better than Cersei. He should have been willing to bend the knee to Daenerys, as she had agreed to fight for the North and help Jon if he did so, giving him the aid of her armies and dragons. The showrunners did this stupid parallel between Jon and Mance Rayder. Mance refused to bend the knee to Stannis even if it'd help his people, with Jon asking him- "isn't their survival more important than your pride?". They then did the same with Jon refusing to bend the knee even if it'd help his people, and Daenerys asking him the same thing. This parallel is unneeded, and only showed Jon as being incompetent, as he had that experience with Mance and should've known that pride doesn't get you anywhere when you're a ruler over others lives and need help.
Also- I doubt the North would last long being independent from the other Kingdoms. Limited resources with a coming winter on top of it all after a war against the Bolton's? No way Jon or Sansa could think that would ever work in the North's favor for it to be independent in the long run. Especially with the war against the dead that was yet to come.
I swear it was like the writers had Jon drink stupidity juice for this entire thing and thought 'wow. This is really something. Our best writing yet.' over that horrendous scene. My sanity cannot take it.
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mollyjames · 6 months
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Grumpkin has arrived
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pigeonwit · 1 month
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i was raised on little light [WIP, game of thrones au]
David thought he knew cold.
The bards herald the ten-year summer Westeros has been relishing, singing of lush flowers and festivals, seas of grass and skies clear enough to see the heavens, glowing knights and nymphish, petaled maidens; all the joys that bloom from the first pleasant bud of heat. But David hails from Deepwood, and even ten years of summer can’t melt away the ice embedded in the bones of the North.
There were no flowers in the North, save for the hardy shrubs and spiked thistles that pierced their way through the ice-crusted mud. The grass is not a lush sea of green waving rhythmically in the cool breeze; the fields are stubby and frigid, the grass too short and prickling for even the notion of relaxation, and the wild grasses beyond only grow sharper with every inch. That said, for all the cold’s bitterness, it can be unifying. Heat was the people’s power, after all, the warmth at the heart of a crowd; being alone in a storm was a far surer fate than having a warm body to crawl in next to. Every day, the people of Deepwood Motte would stand shoulder to shoulder, stacking bricks into a night-house for a newly wedded couple, pulling tough root vegetables from frozen earth, tanning hides upon a post, all for the hope that when they go to sleep, it will be in houses that keep out the cold, with a belly full of stew, swaddled in a blanket of warm wolf-skin – and that when they wake, they will stack more bricks, pull more crops, tan more hides, all to leave for the younger ones still sleeping in their cots.
The Wall, however, is a different beast. It stands alone, one long scar on a field of pale flesh, braced against the edge of the world in stone fury. There are no trees this far north, no shrub nor thistle brave enough to escape the bone-deep snow. There are no crops strong enough to withstand the earth’s sharp teeth.
The Wall is a monster. There should be no need for the myths of what lies beyond it, the bedtime stories of grumpkins and snarks spiriting children from their beds – one glance at the Wall would turn that fear into something indescribable. In one structure lies more ice than all in Westeros have ever experienced in their lifetimes combined, growing with steadily forward with every flake. t’s impossible to tell when looking up, the incline being so subtle when compared to the sheer breadth of it, but when looking down? The ground below disappears as the ice spans outwards, ten castles wide at the base, leaving any who chance a glance below with the sickening reminder that you stand upon a spire built by the will of the Gods to separate you from the world beyond them. Gods who see vertigo as a question that they are all too willing to answer.
Most importantly, the Wall is cold. It is cold in a way that redefines all sensation. It is cold that seeps through your skin, sets in your muscles and lays its roots all the way down to the marrow, and there is no amount of warmth that may thaw it. It is cold that lies beyond pain, beyond numbness, but to the place beyond both, where your body becomes a foreign shell, hardened and toughened into something designed only to keep moving, to keep breathing, to survive at all costs. It is cold without the company, shivering without another body to press that fleeting warmth into – and somehow, that’s the thing that sticks. Not the snow freezing his lashes or the ice crusting along his skin, but the gnawing emptiness in the pit of his stomach. The hunger that can’t be sated. The want – no, the need, the desperate, carnal need-
“Jacobs.”
David bites down on the inside of his cloak, and forces himself to breath like a man.
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rikakore · 8 months
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tales of knights and maidens, grumpkins and snarks
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Blood of Fire Chapter One Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant Reader
Summary: You begin your training as a chambermaid at the legendary fortress and ancient seat of house Targaryen, Dragonstone. It seems you’ve come just in time for the Princess Rhaenyra’s arrival. 
Warnings: None
Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader
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Chapter One
“You mustn't fear the storm Y/N,” Your mother would soothe. “Do you know where storms come from?” Your answer was always immediate. “From the Gods! To test our strength and make us stronger!” Your reward was always a light kiss or a sweet caress. “Yes, my darling. Storms are our gifts; they make us brave and strong! Those who live in the easy parts of the realm enjoy easy lives, true. They know nothing of the cold, of toil, of suffering. But when the great storm approaches, the storm to end all storms-” 
“The dead will rise on its winds and we will be the only ones to greet them: swords in hand!” You finish. It was a measly little fable, to ease your anxiety and conquer your childish fears. These tales of greater storms that brought white walkers, grumpkins, snarks and ice dragons. At first the bedtime stories filled you with even more fear, dreading those monstrous beasts and wondering if you would ever live to see them come true. “You may, or you may not.” Your father would say, “But you must never ever fear them. If you fear them, you let them control you. Then you are dead before they’ve even had you. You will be strong and fight them, won't you?” You nodded. “With my own Valyrian steel sword! I will strike them down like Visenya Targaryen!”
Growing up in the shadow of Dragonstone, you knew all the tales of the legendary Targaryen family. They built and ruled Dragonstone first, afterall. Then they conquered The Seven Kingdoms, sired exceptional kings and rode the greatest beasts known to man! You were in awe of them, as well as envied them. Targaryens are closer to gods than men, you were told. They hold a power that no ordinary man can dream of possessing; dragons. 
In your childhood imaginations, you visioned yourself having a dragon of your own. You would play riding one into battle, flying the vast open skies and unleashing fire upon all those terrible monsters from your bed time stories. Once you had told your father of your plan to climb the Dragonmont, and claim one of the wild dragons there for yourself. You had never seen him so fearful before.
“Swear to me by all the Gods you will never do such a thing!” His grip was hard and clammy where he held your shoulders. He shook you when you did not answer. “Promise me Y/N! We are not Targaryens! We cannot control them like they do! Those monsters will eat you alive! Promise me!” You promised, of course. But that did not stop you from playing your games and daydreaming what your very own dragon would be like. Often you liked to lay in the fields and watch the dragons fly above you. Owen, the neighboring farm boy, had told you there were six dragons who lived in the Dragonmont. There had to be one at least willing to let you ride them. Just once, then you could return home in time for supper. Mother and father would never know. It could be a sweet secret that you could dwell on for the rest of your days… 
But like the mists that vanish in the daybreak, so too did these childhood fantasies fade. When you reached the age of eight, mother took you to work alongside her. “One day you will do as I do,” She explained. “It is best to learn when you are young. Then, you may be the greatest attendant Dragonstone has ever seen!” Attendant? You knew the true meaning behind the word and you had no desire to be a servant. “But I want to ride a dragon and wield a sword!” You cried. “To marry a prince and have his children to have dragons of their own!” There was a brief pause, before your mother cradled your face in her hands. 
“I know what you want, but we are not Targaryens. We do not ride dragons, or wield swords or marry princes. We were born to serve the Targaryens. We ride mules, wield trays of food and marry in our station. The Gods made and shaped the Targaryens to rule, we were made and shaped to be ruled. That is the way of things.” 
“No!” You wailed. 
“Enough!” She wailed right back. “I will hear no more of this madness! You will do your duty and obey! If you do not follow, I will throw you out on the streets where you can beg for your food!” Needless to say, you sobbed through the journey from your hut up the mountain to the castle. By the time you arrived at the gates, you had shed all the tears you could muster and stopped resisting all commands. 
“You will see.” Mother encouraged, “It is an honor to serve the highlords. You will take care of them, see to all of their needs, you may even see their dragons!” It was a sentiment that should have uplifted you, but instead it made you even sadder. I may see a dragon, but I will never pet one or feed one or give it commands… I will never fly.
When you dismounted in the yard, you were received by an older woman, nearly your grandmother's age before she had passed. Dressed all in black, with a hard lined face and gray hair immaculately arranged in a ceremonial headdress. She appeared stern and unsmiling. You did your best to curtsy like your mother showed you. 
“You may rise child, I am merely a servant, not a noble lady.” She said emotionless and stone faced. 
“Lady Jeyne, it is good to see you again.” Your mother said in a distant formal matter. Was this how everyone in the castle spoke? 
“You've missed much in your absence, Anne. The Princess Rhaenyra has sent word to make haste, she and her family will be coming to claim her seat.” Your heart seemed to flutter with excitement at that. A princess? A real Targaryen princess was coming here? Perhaps that explained why everyone took little notice of your arrival, rushing to and fro. 
“When?” 
“They depart in three days time. The castle has hosted so few people, as you can see there are many things to be done.”
“Then it is good I brought my daughter to help. I thought it time she learned her duties.”
“Ah yes, your youngest if I am correct.”
The Lady reached forward to hold your chin-inspecting your disheveled, tear stained face. Her eyes were a pale purple color you had never seen before. They were as lovely as they were terrifying. It took all you had not to squirm under her gaze.
“What is your name child?”
“Y/N.”
“Very well Y/N, I am Jeyne Waters the Lady Steward of Dragonstone. Do you know what steward means?”
You shook your head nervously.
“It means I run the household of this castle. I keep track of our accounts, organize our affairs and most importantly; tell you what to do and you obey. Understand?” 
You nod, eager for her to let you go. 
“Do you have any idea what is expected of you here?”
“I-I-” You looked to your mother, who waved you on supportively. 
“I will serve the highlords… See to all their needs?”
Finally, the Lady released her grip on you, seemingly satisfied by your answer. 
“That is the gist of it, yes. But there are many duties you must perform if you are to fulfill the lord's needs. Cleaning, mending tears, building fires, stripping and making beds, washing and folding the laundry, serving their food and pouring their wine…”
                                                         ~*~*~
You began your lessons at once. On the first day Lady Jeyne showed you how to scrub the floors, dust, sweep and build a small fire in an antechamber. On the second day you began learning how to properly carry a tray, bow, curtsy and address your betters. When the third day arrived your belongings were moved from the small closet where you slept, into the servants household. 
“You will be here with nearly thirty other maids.” Lady Jeyne instructed. “Some who have occupied this castle their whole lives, and some who are just arriving with the princess. You will grow accustomed to them in time. But if I hear of any squabbling, stealing or backbiting I will not hesitate to punish you severely. Understand?” 
You did not know what squabbling or backbiting meant, but you nodded anyway. 
The maids chamber was a small, dark, cramped place, with beds stacked so close together they were practically on top of eachother. There were unlit oil lamps that hung from the low ceiling, and straw that covered the floor like a canopy. When Lady Jeyne saw you staring, she explained; “The straw is to conceal herbs that smell when you step on them. It serves to keep the pests away and emits a pleasant fragrance. As for the lanterns, they are not to be lit unless strictly needed! We must save on all our resources.” 
Your bed was at the very back of the chamber, beside the stairwell that led to the kitchens. It was the smallest of all, with a space just below it to store your scrawny burlap sack. It was comfortable, you had to admit, far more comfortable than the mat you slept on back home. With an actual mattress, cozy patchwork blanket and a real feather pillow that made you think of resting your head on a cloud. “I love it. Thank you!” You told Lady Jeyne, remembering your manners. For a moment, a small smile graced her ever somber face, before she curtly nodded and returned to the business at hand. 
“The princess should be arriving shortly. If you would like to greet them with the rest of the maidstaff. I would suggest you dress in your best uniform and join the welcoming party in the great hall. You are free to stay here if you are too exhausted from the days activities-” 
“I'll join you.” You cut in excitedly. “I've always wanted to see a Targaryen!”
“Remember what I taught you. You will not speak to her, or anyone from the royal party, unless invited to. You must curtsy and keep your eyes down until she gives you leave to look upon her. Targaryens are blood of the dragon and they do not forgive a slight.”
“I remember, I'll behave I promise.”
“Very well. I will be in the great hall. I trust to see you there shortly.” 
After you had arrived, Lady Jeyne had given you three uniforms made from the same roughspun wool. They were rather big on you, and had to be tied with a leather belt around your waist but you did not mind. They were the finest clothes you had ever owned, they even had buttons just above the elbow to hold up your sleeves! So you made quick work of slipping on your favorite- the one with a white collar- and tucked your hair into your matching white bonnet. Unfortunately, the servants had no shoes that fit your dainty feet, so you were stuck wearing the hand-me-down clogs you had arrived in. Oh well, your dresses were long enough to hide your feet, you highly doubted the princess would notice. 
When you arrived at the great hall, you found the castle staff lined up neatly standing at attention. The serving men on one side of the room and the women on the other. You searched for your mother in the crowd, but it was hard to find her. She was a small woman after all, with common features, and with everyone dressed in matching uniforms it made your task even more difficult.
 “Here,” One of the maids said to you. “You should stand up front so you can see the better.” You hesitated, what about mother? You hadn't seen her since your arrival three days ago. She would not just leave me here would she? The maid interrupted your thoughts by grabbing your hand and pulling you to her side. “Your Anne's daughter. Don't worry she told us all about you, youĺl be treated well here.” She assured you. 
She was a tall slight girl, with brown eyes, ruddy cheeks and blonde hair that poked out from under her bonnet. You guessed she must have been between ten or one and ten- close to your age. “My name is Helyn.” She whispered to you. 
“Y/N.” You whispered back.
“Have you claimed a bed in the maiden's chamber yet?” 
“Yes, the small one by the kitchen stairs.” 
“Lucky! In the mornings you wake to the most wonderful smells there. Mines towards the middle, crowded up next to the wall and-” 
“Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne and The Lady of Dragonstone!” The herald boomed. The doors opened with such a flourish it nearly extinguished the torches that kept the room alight. At the very front of the arriving party stood the most beautiful woman you had ever seen; She stood tall and proud with a cascade of silver hair that ran down her back. Her gown was as black as night and seemed to shine like scales. She marched forward in even measured steps, knowing that the stones beneath her feet belonged to her and her alone. As she passed you, you remembered the protocol Jeyne had taught you. Deep curtsy, eyes low, don’t look don’t look don’t look. 
“Ser Laenor Velaryon, rightful heir to Driftmark and prince consort to Princess Rhaenyra!” The herald called again, and you watched a pair of fine leather boots march past and down the aisle, determined to keep your eyes down. The deathly silence that filled the hall made you nervous, but Lady Jeyne had warned you things here would be much quieter here than your village. 
“Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys and Prince Joffrey!” The herald finished grandly, “Trueborn sons of Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor, rightful princes of the realm!” Oddly, only two pairs of shoes passed you, making you glance up out of curiosity. 
There were two young boys, bedecked in fine doublets made from cloth of silver and sea green capes that trailed behind them. The elder stood with his shoulders back and chest out, clearly mimicking his mother. While the younger seemed to hunch over, cradling a bundle of blankets in his arms- a baby you realized. You averted your gaze again before anyone could notice. 
When the royal family stood together at the front of the hall, before the dais, did the princess finally relieve your anticipation.
“You may all rise!” She announced in a clear ringing voice. 
When you were able to look up, you gazed at them fully. Absorbing any and all details you could. One day I will tell my children about this, you thought, about the first time I saw a prince and princess. I will tell them all about her beauty, her proud husband, her children-
You stopped short when you noticed. The prince and princess had hair the color of pale moonlight, of a spider's web… Their sons did not.
On the contrary, Their sons had hair the color of soil after a storm. Of the chestnut bark that covered the trees. They were pale like their mother true… but that seemed to be the only trait that showed their relation. 
Perhaps they get that from their fathers side? You wondered. You knew all the Targaryens had light hair, but you did not know the traits of house Velaryon. Besides, as a child you were told you took more after your fathers side than your mothers side. Looks can be a complicated thing, your father had explained to you once. “You take after my mother. Tessa takes after your mother, and Ben takes after your mothers father. You are the luckiest, my mother was a very handsome woman.”
“Your kindness and loyalty are much appreciated.” The princess continued, “I see that the Gods have truly blessed me with the most dutiful, discreet, and devoted staff I could ask for. I only pray that I prove to be worthy of your service.” she scanned over the room thoughtfully, seemingly taking measure of her new household. You thought her eyes had landed on you for a brief moment, but that could have been your overactive imagination.
“I will see to it that you all may look back on this time with pride. That you shall want for nothing, kept safe from all harm and serve most honorably. I swear this by the old Gods and the new!” 
The hall erupted into applause, and you couldn't help but follow suit. She really is The Realms Delight, you thought. She is strong and proud and beautiful. She will be a worthy Queen someday. When the applause died down, and the princess dismissed you all. You waited to follow Helyn out.
“It seems you have an admirer.” She giggled in your ear. You turned to look over your shoulder to follow her gaze, only to meet the eyes of one of the princes standing by the dais. It was the elder one, whose name you could not recall. He looked to be the same age as you with a rather large nose and still a bit of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. When he noticed you looking he smiled shyly and waved. A burst of happiness erupted from your chest at that. So much so all your lessons on etiquette and courtesy were forgotten, and you waved right back.
You may not wield a sword, or ride a dragon. But at least you will not lack for friends.
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moonmeg · 3 months
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cat had food cravings during pregnancy and asked for the weirdest things to eat and Caleb would make them for her. Deep down he loves to cook for his wife and he puts all the love in the world on it and does his best (in my mind he even bought a cookbook during pregnancy)
(Middle of the night)
"Caleb?"
"Mmh?"
"Is it weird I'm craving raw griffin eggs with toemato blood (ketchup) and grumpkin juice with raw onions?"
"I'm sorry, you're craving what??"
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kibblekorn · 6 months
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I forgot to post that I made a grumpkin this Halloween.-.
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Bashing grumpkins
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