#fructeran animal

[afoxysunny]

I hate that peppers are technically fruit so count these as spite fueled creations

At home all over Fructera's shores - the Pepper Crabs!

Looking for something actually fruit-y?

[adobabe]

my acoc oc is a vegetarian breakfast burrito named egguardo “eggy” relleno. he’s a beast master ranger with a plant-based sausage caiman as an animal companion. he’s from vegetania, along the coast by the forest. his mom is a spanish omelette and his dad is a jalapeño popper. because of his mixed heritage, he doesn’t feel like he really fits in. eggs are from where? the dairy islands? the meatlands? cheese is from the dairy islands, obv. beans are legumes, potatoes are a root vegetable, so vegetanian, tortilla is grain, so ceresian, avocadoes and tomatoes are technically fruit, so fructeran (wtf are peppers and olives???)...etc bc of this he’s a bit insecure about his place in vegetanian culture, or any of the others he belongs to for that matter, and is a bit of a loner who loves animals and prefers them to humanoids. he dreams of starting a veteranary clinic, but is anxious about interacting with the people the animals live with. he rehabilitates wounded wild animals when he can and loves to sleep out on the beach with chicha (the caiman). he is chubby (grande, if you will), nonbinary, and very bi

new addition: here’s a very rough pencil sketch of eggy and chicha

image id: a pencil drawing of a smiling burrito man from the thighs up with his eyes closed. the top of his head is open to expose his fillings in the place of hair. he’s wearing foil wrap armor and has a strung bow over his right shoulder and is holding a lumpy, smiling camain in his arms.

[metallic-roses]

So, more recently I’ve been writing fanfics in the Crown of Candy world about various stories I think could have happened in the world. I plan to write more as the season goes on.

Anyhow, these are the past two characters the ones I’ve completed and posted:

Zana, a candied apple girl with glossy red skin, dark brown stem colored eyes, and matte white hair. She’s the daughter of two Fructeran immigrants who moved to Candia years before she was born, and she has three older sisters. The family owns and works an animal farm near Castle Manylicks. At the beginning of the story, Zana is eighteen, nearing her nineteenth Saints Day, and at the end she’s twenty.

Sora, a sour candy girl with sparkly light green skin, rainbow hair in vertical stripes, and striped rainbow irises. Her mother owns a lingerie shop in Dolcington and her father -who was a sour candy like Sora- fought in the Ravening War. Her father went insane in the years after the war and died. Sora is seventeen during the story.

Neither have classes because both are commoners, but I might write characters who do going forward.  

[afoxysunny]

With how much time we spent in Fructera the preveious episodes my next choice of animal to draw also landed there

So, may i proudly present

Berry Frogs!

Enough fruit for thought? Try -

- Candia, - Ceresia, - Dairy Islands, - Meat Lands, - Vegetania & veggy part 2

[metallic-roses]

When Pigs Fly

(It’s possible I messed up times a little bit, but not by more than half a year)

Warning: Dead bodies

I swing the gate shut behind me, trying to wipe some of the mud off of me. Working on an animal farm has never screamed cleanliness, especially in the days after a heavy rain, but something about recently has fueled my desire to remain mud free. Probably the absurdly pretty merchant boy, Phaja, who’s been visiting in town recently.

 A piglet from one of the more recent litters, Preston, comes skittering up to the gate, sticking his nose through the gaps. I look down at the enthusiastic young thing and shake my head, a small laugh escaping me.

I lean over the gate and pick him up. A lock of my matte white hair slips out of my ponytail and brushes against Preston’s stomach. The piglet squeals, seemingly amused, and wriggles around in my arms. I laugh again, scratching the top of his head and then firm footsteps coming up the hill pause the moment.

My eyes find up the tall, blue skinned, purple haired, muscled man. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve heard descriptions of him several times, passed his castle.

I’m hyperaware of the mud all over me as I hastily set Preston behind the gate and turn to half curtsy “Uh, hello Duke Jawbreaker.”

“You don’t need to curtsey,” The Duke says, his stance casual. Comfortable. I guess you never have to be intimidating when you’re as legendary as he is “What’s your name?”

I clear my throat, still trying to subtly wipe the mud off “My name is Zana Azucer.”

Duke Jawbreaker’s brow furrows “Do I know you from somewhere?”

I stick my hand in the back pocket of my pants “Maybe. My mom went into labor with me about half a day before the final battle had at your castle. She went to said castle for medical help and protection during the birth, and I was born right at the very end of it. You might’ve seen me around that time.”

Duke Jawbreaker taps his head “There you go. Things around battles I tend to remember.” His eyes fix on me and nervousness washes over me again “You’ll be coming up on your nineteenth Saints Day then.”

“Pretty soon,” I confirm.

“Congratulations.” Duke Jawbreaker says “Speaking of peaceful people and Saints Days, I’m here to get a pig for my son. I’m pretty sure he’d like that. He doesn’t like big or violent things.”

I nod slowly. We rarely sell our animals, rarer still just at the farm, but he’s Duke Jawbreaker. And I’m the youngest daughter of two Fructeran immigrants who own a farm.

“Um, sure. Great. Preston, come here,” I call back the piglet and lift him back into my arms. Duke Jawbreaker says nothing “This guy’s name is Preston. He’s the sweetest, friendliest thing you’ve ever met. And I think he’ll do well for outside the farm,” I tap Preston’s nose and he oinks “I think he wants to fly. And we can’t really do that for him here. Maybe your son can.”

.

(A year and a half later)

I wake up slowly in the morning.

The sheets are in a tangled mess on the bed and I glance over at my fiancee, who’s turned over in his sleep. His deep, dark brown hair has flopped over his slightly lighter brown skin. 

I reach over to Phaja and shake his awake. Phaja shifts onto his back, his eyes slowly open “Morning Zan,” He greets and I smile briefly before turning and stepping off the bed.

Phaja doesn’t move from his position “How are you so energetic so immediately? You’re already jumping about.”

I walk over to the dresser, taking a moment to reply. I rifle through the clothes I packed, trying to find what I want to wear.

When Phaja proposed to me, my parents offered to pay for a trip, like they had done for all of my older sisters when they had gotten married. Phaja and I chose to go to Comida, like my eldest sister, Carada, had chosen to. 

Granted, we didn’t expect the assassination attempt during the tournament yesterday, but Phaja and I still intend to head through with our plan this morning. Carada recommended a rooftop cafe for breakfast, a place that looks over Comida.

I glance back at Phaja as I pull out an outfit “Not all of us can be spoiled merchant boys you know,” I tease, grabbing clothing for him and tossing it onto the bed. After a moment, I grab one of his jackets and toss it alongside the other clothes.

“You’re awful to me,” Phaja replies, sitting up “I’m excited to see the view though,”

I nod my agreement, and we let the conversation fade into comfortable silence as we change and gather our things, then head down the stairs of the inn.

As we walk, we see banners of black, homes and shops closed as people mourn. The Emperor has died. And it’s most likely that our King, Amethar, will be chosen as his replacement, based on what Phaja’s father’s connections say. 

Phaja and I decide to continue anyhow. It’s been expected for weeks now, and we were both prepared for this.

We’re interrupted by a battalion of Bulbian soldiers in full armor rushing down the street, shouting orders in Vegetanian. Phaja grasps my hand and pulls me partially into an alleyway to avoid being trampled.

We watch them pass by, silent and motionless and every passing second I grip Phaja’s hand tighter. When they’ve finally gone, I turn to Phaja, letting go of his hand “What do you think that was?” I ask him “There’s no reason they would be in full battle gear, especially since the Emperor’s just died.”

“I don’t know,” Phaja replies as we step out of the alleyway. He glances around us, looking for some explanation “I think they came from the church.”

I take a few steps down the street. “Then lets go.” I tell him and after a few seconds, Phaja follows me down the street.

.

The first thing i see is the dead bodies of the Tart Guard.

I cover my mouth, stumbling into Phaja. He catches me by my shoulders and I feel him shudder as he takes in the bodies. The blood. His grip tightens on me as the door swings shut behind us, sending a loud clang through the room.

My breathing shallows. This was a slaughter. A slaughter of my king’s guard. A slaughter of some other Candian, their chocolate blood splattered on the floor.

My bag clatters to the floor. I head for the body at the opposite end of the church, trying to ignore the blood that sticks to my shoes. The lifeless, broken bodies.

I don’t hear Phaja’s steps behind me, but he calls “I don’t- I don’t think they’ll be gone for long, Zana. We have to get out of here fast.”

I don’t look back at him as I continue through the room. My footprints are made of blood, tracing my steps on the ground. “Okay.” I reply, but my voice is so quiet I’m not sure he heard.

I reach the curled, bloody, body on the ground and recognize two rabbit’s ears. It’s a chocolate rabbit. I don’t know who they are- he, if the beard is any telling. I reach over and turn the body.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

Because huddled beneath the dead chocolate bunny is Preston. That friendly, happy pig I sold to Duke Jawbreaker not even two years ago. His body is-

I don’t even want to think about what weapon did that to him. I don’t want to know if he was scared or upset or anything else. I don’t want to think about how he wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t sold him to Duke Jawbreaker.

Sorrow weighs me down, drags me into an ocean of confusion and anger over this atrocity. This injustice.

“Zana,” Phaja’s voice, while still echoing through the church, is gentle this time “Zan, they’ll be back. We have to go.”

I look, through my tears, over at her. The boy I fell in love with. The boy who loves me. I wonder if Preston had someone who loved him near when he died.

“We can’t leave them like this,” I say, my voice surprisingly clear.

Phaja’s eyes meet mine and it feels like he’s staring straight into my soul. After a second he nods briskly, “Alright. What should we do?”

We’re only there for a few minutes. Phaja and I spend the time closing the Candian’s eyes, puling the swords and arrows from their bodies, dragging them off of each other and laying them on their backs.

It wasn’t much. It didn’t feel like much. But it was all we could do.

I once told Joren Jawbreaker that I thought Preston would like to fly, and I gave that man Preston in particular because i hoped that whichever son Duke Jawbreaker gave him to, Preston’s new owner could get the pig closer to that dream.

I don’t know if Preston ever got what he wanted. But I can hope.

I can hope in the way that anyone can hope. I can dream the way Preston did.

My every hope and dream is dedicated to a better future. One where no one has to die like those people in the church did today. One where it’s not so ridiculous for pigs to fly.