#gerbiloftriumph

[thewatercolours]

Podfic: Chapter 7 of "Lost & Found" by GerbilofTriumph

Another shabby narration of a lovely King's Quest fanfiction, this time an excerpt from one of @gerbiloftriumph's lovely longfics, Lost and Found.

[jimposts]

I'm feeling nice and warm today soooooo

Let's talk about the people who inspire me and make me feel fucking amazing and shit like that

1. @pilksus

Has such cool thoughts and I wouldn't trade them. I would allow them to go insane <33 also THEIR ART MSJFJEIRJEJTIE

2. @squuote

BIRD!!! I want to speak with you more cause oh my god!!!!!!!!! Such ideas that are so bouncy

3. @maryssecretblog

:3c you help myself to say 'yeah it's okay to be a freak!' so thank you! But srs the ideas you get in my mind race so fast

4. @mar00nharp00ns

The og way of getting me insane :3 thank you for that Stanley blood shed!

5. @shinakazami1

SUXH A NICE DUDE!!!! Y'all pls this person so cool wndifireieirituu4!! and and and and and and and-

6. @decomposten

YOU;!??"!_+$+$? Art yummy and I will support your art whenever!!!

7. @realstrawssy

AJshtheie I love my first homestuck mutual <3333 so lovely and amazing ahdfjeieihdurisiotkrkdkf

8. @kvant-t

SECOND!!! love you dude gotta speak with u more dude

9. @medsteeth

Shakes you!!!! You are so cool and I enjoyed explaining lovebug lol

10. @bettycrocker-foods

Y9UDJUFJEJR!!! EO NICE WAHHHHHH am so lucky to have a firned like you

11. @gerbiloftriumph

as a kings quest fan for a long long ling long time. You have kept me fed whether it be whumptober or flufftober. (Both which are favorites)

12. @gstring-theorist

<333 you so cool fr and generous and and and icjcjeididue

13. @honeysucklebuttons

You. You are so amazingz thank you!!!

14. @h0peful-gh0stt

partner <333 his style is so cool that I inspire to get better

15. @pawsitivearven

YOU AHRNEUCHEJDJD<333.LOBEKY.!!_!_+$+$+ amazing sonciokeufb

16. @jadeofblades

YOU AND IDEAS SNDNJEJDF never stop

17. @androids-insides

EATS EATS EATS EATS CAUSE SO COOL <3333

[kursed-curtain]

A redraw of this piece by @gerbiloftriumph for my Flight Rising!AU

[gerbiloftriumph]

"Guys, the mirror spat out another Gra--why does he have fangs??"

From the multiverse Graham au:

Goblin!Graham - @thewatercolours Winter!Graham - @gerbiloftriumph (hi me!) Summer!Graham - @captmickey Spring!Graham - @tooncooro Autumn!Graham - @kursed-curtain

textless under the cut

[gailyinthedark]

@inklings-challenge this is very late and extremely silly, but I wanted to poke fun at my life and also give a thank you to @siena-sevenwits and @gerbiloftriumph for boosting my mood during my own jello-related tribulations!

Translation

Humans were absurdly large. Hulking, even. No creature needed to take up so much space. They spread out, too, limbs and digits all over the place, not folded close to the body for efficiency in creeping.

This one didn’t look so well, even for a human. It lay limply on the bed (five goblins could fit in a bed that size, but humans were disinclined to sleep piled up) and by the smoky light of the oil lantern its face was an unappealing shade of beige-grey, its hair greasy. (Why have nerveless filaments on one’s head instead of a nice set of floppy ears, sensitive to sound and temperature and the shapes of underground spaces? It made no sense.)

“Hungry?” asked Borf, indicating the covered tray in his hands.

“Is it that orange stuff?” asked the human, as if its hunger or lack thereof depended on the answer. Which was ridiculous, but Borf decided to humour it. He pulled off the cloth with a flourish. The contents of the tray glowed amber in the oil-light, transparent and jiggling slightly.

The human looked iller.

“I think I’ll wait,” it murmured.

“It’s the same for supper,” said Borf helpfully. “And breakfast.”

“Blast,” said the human. Its voice was slightly higher in pitch than Borf’s own, which meant it was likely a she. “I hate that stuff.”

“They wouldn’t let me bring you the fermented fishtail soup,” said Borf. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” said the human, and sniffed loudly.

There was a chart of human sounds and their meanings in the refectory cavern. Borf reviewed it in his head. The sniffing sound meant either the human’s nasal passages were irritated or they were experiencing sorrow.

“Is it rhinitis?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be in the hospital for that.”

“Right,” muttered Borf. It was hard to keep track of the different races and what might kill or merely inconvenience a given one, and he was only a porter, not a medic.

“You’re sad then,” he stated tentatively, checking his mental chart again.

“I'm fine," said the human. “Sorry. You can put the tray here if you like.”

She shoved at the pillows until she was sitting up. The goblin maneuvered the tray to rest on her lap. She poked at the blob and sniffed again. Borf turned to go, thinking of one occasion when, as a little goblet, he’d been caught out of the caverns overnight and had to sleep under a tree without the usual heap of other goblin-children to keep him company. His ears had been fairly purple with sorrow.

“Ah,” he said suddenly, turning back to see the human surveying a spoonful of orange goo with a disconsolate expression.

“What?” she asked, seeming glad of the distraction.

“Human ears are useless,” said Borf, and hopped back into the room and clambered up on the foot of the absurdly enormous bed. “So inexpressive. They should do something about it.”

“I’ll let them know,” said the human in question. “When I get out of here. It smells like parsley. Is it meant to do that?”

“They could try earrings in appropriate colours. Try not to think about the smell.”

She grimaced again, but the sniffing seemed to have stopped, which Borf guessed to be a good sign. He settled in, toes splayed on the blanket, elbows near his ankles, floppy ears resting comfortably on his knees.

“Tell me,” he said, as the human bravely swallowed a bite, “what is the evolutionary purpose of hair?”

[captmickey]

“Magically talented, one might say. Does she order her fabric from the Hobblepots?” Whisper sat up. “Would she take commissions? Imagine the portraits Whisper could fit in there! No, the entourage! My fans could always be with me in person, not just in spirit! Imagine! The fan club will be so excited!” “What was it like in there?” “Red.”

From @gerbiloftriumph fanfic, Lost and Found

And a massive Happy Birthday to them as well!

Bubble-less version under the readmore

[threeadventurers]

No update this week, but an extremely loud and forever thankful thank you to @gerbiloftriumph for being my guest artist this week!

If you like all things King’s Quest, go check out her blog!

[ayatai]

Graham & Alexander at the ice palace gates, scene from @gerbiloftriumph’s wonderful fic.

[nexttrickanvils]

Kings Quest 2015 Characters as Animal Crossing Villagers

With help from @precipitin , @gerbiloftriumph, and @captmickey.

Graham: Dog or Cat

Manny: Octopus but still gets turned into a cat by Alex

Acorn: Bull

Whisper: Horse

Achaka: Wolf

Amaya: Wolf

Chester: Frog

Muriel: Sheep

Wente: Bear

Bramble: Pig

Vee: Cat

Neese: Deer

Mordack: Goat

Hagatha: I’d imagine she would be a mix of various species, maybe with an alligator or anteater base?

Merchant of Miracles: Fox simply because of Redd (they’re totally in competition with each other)

Alexander: Cub

Rosella: Horse

Gwen: Rabbit

Gart: Lion? Maybe?

All the Royal Guards: I’d imagine as either dogs (because of Booker and Copper) or Ostriches (because leggys)

Bonus cause even if we don't see them, they are still there:

Edgar: Goat

Cassima: Bird

Oh and before you ask "Wait how can the kids be different species from their parents?" 1. Genetics are already played fast and loosely in these games. And 2. Don't think too hard on it.

[maxwelljacks]

i don't know anything abt ur fandom but i have been there as someone trying to singlehandedly revive a fanbase,, and you are so freaking valid. it's nice to see someone so passionate about something! hope ur day is good :)

Aww, thank you so much! Very kind words! I’m glad you’re with me in my epic quest, and may you have a good day too!

And on that note, HUGE thank you to @gerbiloftriumph and @captmickey ! Y’all keep this fandom alive and I love y’all. And @achaka , y’all are fantastic.

[thewatercolours]

Podfic: "A Bitter Cup of Tea" by GerbilofTriumph

With permission of the author, a shabby but hopefully cheering narration of one of her ficlets! First time using Audacity, one take, no edits - being carried along by nothing but good will. Complete with terrible faux English accents (on purpose! that's the way the girls talk in the game!)

Her amazing blog full of King's Quest creativity can be found over here: @gerbiloftriumph

Original text here:

[thewatercolours]

King's Quest Ficlet: "At a Standstill" (Collab with GerbilofTriumph)

Not too long ago, @gerbiloftriumph had a really cool idea for a collab, and we buddied up to brainstorm a story with yet more fun for the goblin and woes for our favourite king (she came up with most of the good stuff. ;-) Once the initial ideas were in place, I turned them into a bullet point story, and she created an illustration which you’ll be able to find on her blog! Go check it out! I'll never stop praising Gerbil's amazing triple threat creative powers to the skies (an incredibly engaging writer, a wonderful visual artist, and magic powers at inspiring creativity in others.) It was great fun working together on this together, my friend! And now, without further ado, the ficlet.

---

(Daventry castle) 

Grandpa has a terrible sore throat and a hacking cough. He’s driving the royal physicians up the wall with how poorly he sticks to their advice. They tell him he must be quiet and go easy on his lungs - he must rest his voice. So of course he talks twice as much as normal. 

Valanice shakes her head fondly and suggests Gwendolyn help him pass the time with stories. But just this once, he’ll be the one to listen, not tell. She hands her granddaughter a grand leather tome with a slick blue ribbon and a cover cracking about the edges. It was recently sent as a peace offering from the goblin realm. Naturally, it’s a volume of old fairy tales.

Grandpa settles in as Gwendolyn reads aloud through a handful of familiar ones - “Rapunzel,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” and so on. It is indeed a soothing way to pass the time, and Grandpa soon starts nodding off. Gwendolyn smiles smugly that the scheme to get him to rest quietly is working, and decides to read on just a little further to ensure he’s sound asleep by the time she leaves. 

She turns the page to a fairytale she’s never heard of - “Jorinda and Joringel.” She reads it softly, almost under her breath.

“Once upon a time, two young lovers, Jorinda and Joringel, stumbled upon a castle deep in the forest. What they did not know was that the castle belonged to a witch of fearful power, who did not take kindly to being disturbed. In her fury, she laid curses on each of them. Poor Joringel was enchanted to stand still as a statue. He could only watch as the witch turned his beloved Jorinda into a nightingale and carried her off to a cage in the castle, to be her pet and sing for her. Joringel couldn’t lift a finger to help her until the witch finally tapped him with her wand. With many terrible threats, she warned him to never return. Now -”

“What? Graham interrupts, cracking an eye open. “Tapped him with her wand?”

“Grandpa! Remember what the doctor said. Now, Joringel had heard of a certain beautiful rose that could break spells with a single touch of its petals, so he journeyed far to fetch it from - ”

Grandpa comes wide awake and slams his hands down on the quilt. “SO THAT’S WHAT THEY WERE DOING!” he cries hoarsely. “THEY WERE TRYING TO GET ME TO STAND STILL! The slime - the ropes - it all makes sense now!” He is absolutely gobsmacked, and going back and forth between slapping his forehead in frustration and chuckling. “If only I had known! I thought I knew every old story in the book! Is this an actual fairytale?”

It seems this tale has provided Grandpa with a missing piece, making sense of something that happened to him in his youth, while he and his friends were captives of the goblins. And you can practically see the excitement levels rising in his eyes - if he weren’t old and sick, Gwendolyn has no doubt he’d be jumping off the walls in another two seconds.

He can’t do that, but of course he can tell his granddaughter the whole story. She tells him off, grinning. “Grandpa, that’s exactly the opposite of keeping your voice quiet!”

But when has anyone ever been able to stop an excited Graham? The purple mists of the mirror part, and the memory begins shining over the glass

(Goblin caves)

Young Graham discovers the glowing garden amongst the upper passages of the goblin prison. He is struck by the carefully tended beauty. It seems strange to him that the goblins, so violent and instinct-driven, and clueless to the fact their prisoners are starving, could cultivate something like this garden. But never mind that. He’s got people to save. And look! Roses! Just what the Hobblepots need him to fetch for their recipe! He plucks one, but gets distracted by a noise deeper into the garden. He decides to investigate.

There he sees a group of goblins setting up for their next fairytale, fiddling with hastily stitched costumes and clumsy props. One goblin is trying to get a little clockwork nightingale to work,  but is having some trouble with the mechanism. 

They spot Graham, and go crazy with joy when they see he has a rose in his hand. They shove him into the middle of their staging area and begin acting. One goblin in a tattered but sparkly gown grabs his hand and strolls with him, laying its hand on its heart and sighing exaggeratedly.

Graham has no idea what story this is. He makes some lame, vague guesses, but no good. “Um, okay. So, you’re definitely in love with me. That’s a thing. Am I… the prince in ‘The Little Mermaid?’ Maybe ‘Sleeping Beauty?’ You, because, love? I guess? Um… ‘Three Little Kittens Who Lost Their Mittens?’ No, no.”

 When the witch goblin arrives in its jaunty pointed hat and waves its hands around ‘mystically” and tosses some handfuls of glitter powder,’ all the goblins turn to Graham expectantly, anticipating he’ll go along with freezing into a statue by standing still.But Graham, of course, has no idea what they want. Everyone’s looking at him, clearly needing him to do something. So naturally, he moves - waves his arms, strikes a pose. And they get frustrated with him. They smack him to make him smarten up and get with the program, but of course this communicates nothing to him. A couple try grabbing him, to force him to stand still, but Graham’s already a bit wary of goblins grabbing him, and takes off, full tilt.

He manages to evade them, ducking through the brush and shining mushrooms, and slips out of the garden door when everyone’s safely off searching for him at another end of the garden. He makes his way to the Hobblepots, and triumphantly produces the rose from his cloak. But alas, the rose has already wilted. Who knew it would be so delicate? He’ll need to fetch a fresh one. 

Hoping to avoid the goblins, Graham mentally plans everything else he can do toward saving his friends in the meantime. The next rose can be the last item on his to-do list, and hopefully the goblins will have cleared out from the garden by then.

A few hours later, Graham creeps warily through the door. He scopes out the garden, but all seems clear, besides the little tinkering goblin, still working on the nightingale. But he’s just kind of doing his own thing, and barely seems to notice Graham. So far, so good. Graham nabs a rose and heads out. 

But, surprise - the goblin troupe are coming in the door just as he’s coming out! They’re overjoyed to see him again! Whoops and rejoicing! They confiscate the rose and carry him off on their shoulders to another part of the caves, where they’ve set up a whole scene with clumsy props and a crude castle backdrop. The play begins all over again, with much hand squeezing and kissy sounds. But Graham’s eyes are drawn upward to a weird conglomeration of ropes hanging from the ceiling, full of strange knots and loops. And just a foot away, directly in the path his lover girl is leading him, is something that looks suspiciously like a tripwire.

He makes every attempt to avoid it - “No, no, I insist. You go first, my lady! No, ok. Well then, I’ll just step very carefully over this, um, hunter’s trap…”

The goblin kicks him in the back of the knee. The wire is tripped. Goblins cheer! Ropes descend! Limbs are snagged! Flying lines crisscross and snag and pull his arms and legs tightly in place. If he doesn’t shake free immediately, he won’t be able to move and inch.

With some reckless shimmy, diving, and use of the chopsticks (who knew?) he manages to get free. With every movement, the goblins became more frustrated and frenzied, as they try wildly to trap him again. A wild chase ensues (cue the soundtrack!) at first resembling an obstacle course, as Graham skids limbo-style beneath descending ropes, does an entire double dutch skipping rope routine, and of course there’s a grand finale that resembles nothing so much as trapeze and tightrope walking. 

Graham ends up climbing one of the ropes and finding himself in a little crevice in the ceiling just big enough for him. He unfastens the rope from its stalactite so the goblins can’t follow him up, but immediately regrets it. How is he going to get down now? 

The goblins throw a tantrum and shake their fists, and one stomps Graham’s rose with its stone boot. Once they’ve worn themselves out, they sit down. At first Graham fears they mean to wait him out, but they are distracted by the sound of a gong off in the distance. They dash away. 

Possibly a dinner gong, Graham reflects sadly, thinking about his friends, starving in their cages. The thought puts new resolution into him. He can’t possibly stay up here. He has to get down, and soon, before the prisoners lose even more strength. And, you know, before the goblins think to come back with a ladder or something.

But what on earth is he supposed to do? He’s a fair distance up, and simply jumping would almost certainly mean a broken back or neck. None of the stalactites hang very far down, so sliding down one wouldn’t help lessen the fall enough to matter. Has he got anything in his pockets he can use? He rifles through them, but nothing comes to hand that could be useful.

But slowly, a reckless plan forms in his mind. He only discovered recently that he can fit an entire person in one of his pockets, and that the cloak moves just the same when someone is inside it. Would it be crazy to scoop himself into his pocket, and let the cloak flutter to the ground? After all, fabric lands lightly. But would he? He has no clear grasp of the physics of these pockets, and it’s very possible that this would be just as bad as ordinary free fall. But he hasn’t got a better idea, so he grits his teeth, leaps, and sweeps himself up into the cloak as he falls.

The impact is no worse than when you think there is one more step on the staircase, but it turns out there isn’t, and your foot just lands awkwardly heavily. Graham breathes again, crawls out of his pocket, and sets to planning.

What is he going to do? He needs that rose. He could wait till tomorrow, but every day is so, so precious. He decides to hide near the garden door among some tall rocks. There he can stake the doorway out to be well and truly sure there are no goblins about. 

A couple of minutes in, the garden door creaks open, and the goblins shamble out and head further up the passage. He ducks low to be certain they don’t see him. Once they’re out of sight, Graham gives it a good twenty minutes to be sure they’re not coming back, and stands up - only to hear gasps and shrill gibberish behind him. 

He wheels round to discover that the goblins must have circled round to this chamber by another entrance. They have set up a stakeout only fifteen feet behind him, among the other tall rocks. They were watching for him, but couldn’t see him because he was hunkered down.

He sprints for all he’s worth. They pursue, and this time with a frightening new trick up their sleeves. Goblins with buckets of foul-smelling slime take aim at him. One splash of slime coats his foot, sticking him to the floor and hardening rapidly. He tries to yank his boot free, but it’s stuck as firmly as if the very rock of the ground had grown up round it.  He manages to swivel his foot out of his boot and run for it, running off half-shod, knowing what a disaster it will be if he gets coated in the slime anywhere else on his body.

He ends up running a complete circle, and dashes into the glowing garden, slamming the door behind him and barring it with the sword frying-pan. He has his doubts about how well it will hold, but what else is he supposed to…

He’s not alone.There’s someone else in here. 

Oh no. Of course. The tinkering goblin with the nightingale.

But It hardly pays him any attention. It’s struggling frantically with the mechanism. It’s become more and more agitated because it just can’t get the clockwork going. With a snarl of frustration, it hurls the nightingale against the rockface wall. It smashes to pieces. The horrified goblin throws its hands in the air, and falls to its knees among the springs and screws. Choking back a sob, it grabs for the nightingale’s head and wings, and turns them round and round. It falls silent, then begins blubbering and snuffling, pressing the pieces to its heart. Afraid of alarming the creature, Graham closes the gap between them slowly. The distraught goblin barely seems to notice. By now it’s rocking back and forth, snuffling wetly and cradling the broken toy close.

Graham kneels, and holds out his open hands. 

The goblin stops. It slowly raises its head to look at him. Then it stares back down at the nightingale, and back to him. Graham nods. The goblin swallows back its tears, and with trembling fingers lays the pieces in Graham’s hands.

It’s not actually so difficult to fix. Graham used to like to fiddle with clockwork toys when he was a boy, taking them apart and putting them back together. Or maybe it’s easier with human fingers. Whatever the case, it doesn’t take long for Graham to get it properly working. The little goblin was so close to a breakthrough. 

But it’s a very different kind of clockwork than Graham has seen before - like someone invented clockwork separately and it developed along a different track. And just from the look of it, Graham surmises that this toy was not stolen from the upper world. This is very clever goblin work. And strangely beautiful. How can something crafted by these little kidnapping monsters be beautiful?

He winds it up, and it sings.

He’s surprised by how sweet it is in its own way, and what craftsmanship went into it, and how he hadn’t really given the goblins credit for being able to make something so lovely. And yet, isn’t that what he was thinking about earlier, when he first saw the garden? Their love of stories led them to cultivate a beautiful fairytale garden. To build a theatre full of cheer. To invent a shining full moon underground. To fashion glass slippers and clever spinning wheels and magic tricks just to delight everyone. And as messed up as this whole situation is, there’s something endearing about it. Maybe more than endearing. Maybe it is beautiful.

Graham’s realizing  in a way he hadn’t before how important these tales really are to the goblins. How their love of fairy tales causes a lot of trouble, and man, does he know it. But most of it is harmless, and now and then, just now and then - it’s something really good. This goblin doesn’t want to hurt him. They can’t speak each other’s language, but they got through to each other through this shared moment.

The power of story - of making something fascinating and beautiful just out of what you have available - connection in the strangest of circumstances. Maybe - maybe this approach is something he can use?

Suddenly something lightly taps him. A wand. Held in the fist of one of the goblin crowd. He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice them coming in by the same back way through which they carried him to the “ropes course.” All the goblins cheer as he spins around at the touch of the wand! And now they are more than glad for him to have the rose - one even hands a new rose to him gallantly. 

He walks as slowly as he can out of the garden to take the rose to the Hobblepots, wondering what on earth even happened just now that they were so nice this time. But he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s only a matter of time, of course, before the goblins come up with some new shenanigan to torment him, but for now, he’s got what he came for, and he…

(Daventry Castle)

Grandpa finally loses his voice completely, and has to give up on the last details of the story. Gwendolyn teases him, and they watch the final moments of the story playing out silently in the mirror, as young Graham wanders off into the gloom of the tunnels, rose in hand. 

Gwendolyn reads the last lines of the fairytale aloud. “With the flower to help Joringel, the witch’s magic could not hold. The curse was lifted, and he freed not only Jorinda, but all the other captives the witch held in her power. They made their way far from the darkness of the castle, and stepped gladly back into the light.”

“Good night, Grandpa. I hope you have a nice, quiet rest.”

[thewatercolours]

Look who came to visit, all the way from Daventry! You have my sword, sire.

Huge thank you to @gerbiloftriumph - such an awesome artist and friend. Now I shall have a king guarding my keys.

[gerbiloftriumph]

What if some apocalyptic event horizon caused all four Grahams to exist at once, and they roamed a singular Daventry, causing great mayhem and eating too many chocochips? And they chose seasonal badges to help differentiate each other?

spring - @tooncooro summer - @captmickey autumn - @kursed-curtain winter - @gerbiloftriumph

[kursed-curtain]

"oh yeah I should post more!" kinda art dump!

Some seasonal grahams! (Summer is @captmickey 's style, Spring is @tooncooro 's, Winter is @gerbiloftriumph 's, and Autumn is mine! I have so much fun drawing in y'all's styles ^^)

and some Flight Rising fandragons! Mostly ridgeback RG1, cuz I needed some practice!

[kursed-curtain]

My disappointment at not being able to draw a goblin for Art Fight was so immense that I decided to draw this !!!!! Gift for @gerbiloftriumph ^^