#Good luck to the farmers

[bugsdraws]

haley♥️

[atoltia]

As the wind blows, remember that I'll come home to you.

started listening to "No Choice" by Fly By Midnight and this happened :')

March x Gender Neutral Adventurer/Farmer

-0-

You had to leave.

You didn't want to, of course you didn't, but you had to.

You were an adventurer first before you became a farmer, before you decided it was time to leave the thrill of adventure. To let your body rest, to abandon the horrors that you've seen in your years on the road and settle into this little town.

The life you had built here was nice, far nicer than you ever expected it would. You made friends, you found community. You were settling down.

But you, of all people, knew it wasn't going to last.

The missive arrived days after the last snowfall of spring. You thought it was another mail from Adeline or another letter from Errol asking to meet you and Eiland at the museum. Or maybe it was from March - you hoped it was - telling you that your ass better be at the inn that night.

A chill ran down your spine when you opened the mailbox. A single envelope sat inside, snug, the golden filigree emblazoned over the plush red on the quality paper glinted once the sunlight You didn't have to see the seal, didn't have to see the signature. Didn't have to see to know the colors of your guild.

But you were retired, right? You made sure of that. Made sure that you were off the ledgers, made sure that you would no longer be contacted.

And yet here it was, the ghosts of your past sitting prettily in the mailbox on the land that you so carefully tended.

There was a punch in your gut, a deep clutch at the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to open the envelope. Felt you already know what it said. But you did. You had to.

And felt your heart ice over.

Aldaria was at war. Every soldier, every adventurer within the central kingdom's guilds, every able combatant, retired or otherwise, are required to go to the frontlines.

No one is exempted.

Those who are to run will be deemed as traitors to the Crown and will be put to death.

Fuck.

-0-

The grief of it hit you quickly.

So much that you sat at the stone bench, one that you placed by Caldarus. You didn't think you could talk, didn't think you could form any of the words. Caldarus didn't pry. You thought he could sense what it was, anyway.

You didn't know how much time passed by. Didn't care. Not even hunger, not even the rain.

You had to leave. Immediately.

Adeline and Eiland were horrified. Elsie was rendered speechless. All of you were in tears.

You packed up quickly. It wasn't as if you had a lot of belongings, anyway, even though you've already spent several months here in Mistria. It had to be quick, it had to be soon, as your heart couldn't take it anymore.

The goodbyes were the most difficult of it. More tears, more fear. Hugs, promises to come back.

But you couldn't quite look at everyone in the eye. One person, at the back of the inn, just staring. Dark, dark eyes devoid of emotion. You noticed that his drink remained untouched, his food already cold. You didn't want to say goodbye, not to him. But you needed to.

You took him aside late into the night. His body was rigid, his eyes ice cold.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tried for a weak smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't even reach winter."

"Don't." His voice was hard, shaky. "Don't fucking blame yourself for this."

"March, I-"

He grabbed your shoulders, hard, looked directly into your eyes. "Don't die,' he murmured. "And come back when this is all done. Are we clear?"

The silence descended upon both of you as you stared at each other. Sighed. Weakly smiled.

"Clear."

And you knew, neither of you wanted to think of that promise being broken.

-0-

The day you left was a particularly rainy day.

Mistria was quiet, as if the joyous energy that usually engulfed the town was washed clean.

People tried to resume their routines, their normal, but watching you leave on horseback, alone while getting soaked, was one of the most difficult sights most of them had in recent years. And yet life has to move on. Days, weeks, months had to pass.

March was not handling it well.

He managed to easily slide back into routine. Being a tradesman, the work was never-ending, especially since he decided to expand their enterprise by accepting orders from the other surrounding towns.

It made sense to expand, especially since Mistria already rose up the ranks quickly in the months the farmer was here. Wartime was an opportunity for more profits. Times were changing and he had to catch up.

(And it wasn't because he just wanted the work to keep his mind off of you.)

Every hit of the hammer to the anvil was a second that he wasn't thinking about you.

Every nail, every screw, every project was something to keep your smile, the crinkle of delight in your eye when you give him another gift, the way the sunlight streaked your hair, out of his mind.

He didn't want to smell your scent the moment he picks up the blanket you made him. He didn't want to think about you when he eats something that you liked. He didn't want to remember the feeling of you, all the curves and angles of your body, the callouses of your hands, the scars that littered your body. He didn't want to see even the barest of glimpses of you in his dreams.

And yet he couldn't escape it. Couldn't escape the way his heart weighed him down. Couldn't escape the dull thrum of longing at the back of his head.

So he worked.

And worked.

And worked no matter how much Olric told him to take a break. No matter how much his body screamed at him to stop. Not even when Valen put her foot down and demanded he rest.

Because his hand shook when he struck that hammer. His breath hitched when he stepped away from the anvil. Because his eyes teared up when his back hit against the wall when the entirety of you consumed him, assaulted his senses, his memory.

"Fuck!"

He threw his hammer down as he crumpled to the ground, shoving his head into his lap as he breathed in the way you showed him how.

When were you coming back? He just wanted you back.

-0-

They were keeping up with the current events, of course.

It was slow all around, as messengers didn't always come or the roads were blocked off. But Balor, through his contacts, made sure that Mistria got the news as soon as possible.

The North Everett Garrison fell to the enemy a week ago and proved a heavy blow to the kingdom. Massive body counts on both sides. No news yet on those who fell.

They hoped, prayed, that you weren't there. That you weren't one of the ones who died. That you were still alive and well.

It's been over a year since you left and they still hoped.

It was three weeks after the news that another messenger arrived.

March snarled when the knock on the door came. The shop was closed, goddammit. Why can't people just leave him the fuck alone? He shoved open the door, stopped when Adeline and Eiland stood outside.

Dread pooled at the base of his stomach, his body crumbling into a cold sweat. In Adeline's hand was a familiar helmet. The perfect, silver helmet that he made for you over a year ago.

-0-

They said they couldn't find you.

When the garrison fell, it was immediately reclaimed by the arriving forces. For days, the soldiers and holy people recovered and identified the dead.

But there was nothing else that they could find of you. They only found the helmet, damaged and bloody, with March's trademark on it. By the time the forces managed to collect as much as they could, you were listed as one of the missing, potentially (probably) dead.

It was enough to send him into a spiral.

March hasn't left his room in days. The meals Olric left by his door barely touched. For days he held the helmet, his hands raw from keeping it close and tight to his chest.

His usual proud eyes were dull, the shine of it diminishing slowly ever since you left. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. This was supposed to be your start at a new life, a new beginning. He saw the grief in your eyes when you first moved in. He saw the twitchiness. He saw the strain. And he saw the way you let the shadows of your past eventually fall.

Only to be thrown back again against your will.

He couldn't feel anything. Just that steady throbbing, the heavy pulling of his heart down, down, to the depths of his despair. Couldn't feel the sunlight that streamed through his window. Couldn't feel the cold of the stone floor. Could barely feel the weight of the helmet on his lap.

Time didn't exist anymore. Every single breath he took was like inhaling shattered glass. The world seemed to have lost all color.

"March?"

"Go away, Olric."

"It's not Olric."

He whipped his head back, confusion marring itself on his face. With effort, he hauled himself off of the ground.

Opened the door.

It's been a while since you've seen him.

He's a bit thinner, a little gaunt, which worried you. A shadow of a beard rested on his face as he stood there, wide eyed, as he held your helmet in his hands.

He was just as handsome as you remembered him to be. You smiled.

"Hey, March."

He had you in his arms not one second later. You felt the shudder run through his body as his strong hands pulled you tight into his embrace. This was something that you dreamed off, the one thing that pushed you through, pushed you to survive. The thought of coming back to him was the light in your darkest days.

"March-"

"Quiet."

He took his time with you. Embracing you. Taking in your scent, memorizing your body once again. You had new scars, new injuries. But he doesn't care.

You were here and that's what mattered.

"March," you murmured as you buried you face into his shoulder, your bandaged hands digging into him like a vice. "I'm home."

He breathed in, sobbed out a sigh. Smiled.

"Welcome home, farmer."

-0-

hello, if you like my stuff i have more on my masterlist! :DD

also feel free to send some requests. I'm currently in a March headspace rn but I'm willing to try other characters too o: (might take a while to get to them tho since I'm gonna be in a convention crunch time qwq)

[blueberrysquire]

I'm crook as fuck (aussie slang for sick) and super sentimental and you know what that means

ITS CELEBRATE MY WIFE TIME‼️

I love her so so much she's the prettiest girl in the whole world, my one, my only, the love of my life, #1 lover of fruit salad yummy yummy, my beautiful wife: Haley 🥰

[sadgurl805]

shoot another shot!

steering away from creepypasta for a sec to draw haley’s annoyed sprite <3 i love her sm

[breadcrumbsz]

my stardew farmer and gf haley bc the chapell roan goodluck babe edits got me

[soimse]

somebody please let me know if this has been done before

[franzu-u]

me and my wife ♥︎

[bumblbby]

all these haley edits on tiktok have dragged me back into stardew valley say hi to my wife in my art style

[kijoyer]

'good luck babe' with haley but the other way around i started new save file in multiplayer and so i abandoned my main save with my wife haley... i didnt marry seb yet but im going to and comphet is killing me fr fr (im bi though but im still struggling through this)

[existential-mushroom-blog]

its haley from stardew valley!

of course with the trend going around, i just had to draw her while listening to chappell roan on repeat.

i want to go through and draw all the stardew characters. let me know which one you want to see next!

[killingfrankie]

don’t even @ me stardew valley haley lovers. this playlist is heavily haley x female farmer based😣😣

[atoltia]

Again, March?

saw this rb by @ghostface001 and you know what, you're absolutely right

so here's a short follow-up to my first sick fick Just lean on me

-0-

A crash was heard from inside the blacksmith's.

It was still pretty early in the morning, and not many people were bustling in the streets. It rained a little some hours ago so she didn't have to spend so much time tending her crops, hence why she was at the town square sooner than she's used to.

And at that moment, she wondered if it would have been wiser to just turn around and go back to bed.

Because even from her perch by the lip of the fountain, she could see Ryis standing by the door, ducking when a chisel flew over his head.

She could hear Olric say something, followed by a slamming of a door. She has a feeling she knows which door.

"What the hell is happening here?"

"Oh thank the gods above." Ryis practically wheezed it out as he helped Olric pick up the scattered tools.

"Sandraaa-" Voice practically a whine, Olric beelined to her, face with a look of distress and hair a little disheveled.

She stepped into the shop, quiet blue eyes scanning the floor, gingerly walking over the stone in case she step on a random piece of ore or tool on the ground. "Explain."

"March is sick," Olric supplied.

She raised a brow, frowned. "He was just sick two weeks ago."

Two voices, exhausted, resounded. "Juniper."

"Ah."

Debris littered the shop. An overturned stool, silver wear on the floor, a dented copper cup. She was fully appraised that March was a menace when ill, she experienced it firsthand just two weeks ago, but she didn't expect him to be this chaotic.

Ryis shook his head, sighed. "He really doesn't like people tending to him, so he gets bitchy about it when people do."

"Hm. Did he throw most of these?"

"What?" Olric turned, looked around. "Oh. Oh no. The chisel, yeah, but most of this was because he was struggling when I was trying to get him into the bath."

"Mm."

A knock on the door, short and sharp. "March," she called out. "March, can you open the door, please?"

No answer.

"March, I know you're in there."

Still, no response.

She sighed.

"If you don't open this door in five seconds, I'm kicking it down."

Silence.

"One."

Not a sound.

"Two."

A grunt from inside the room.

"Three-"

Quickly, the latched of the door opened, swinging rather petulantly to reveal a sweaty and red-cheeked March. There was indignation in his dark eyes, a defiance in the jut of his lip, but all of it was overshadowed by the flush that covered his nose and cheeks.

Without much warning, she just stepped through the threshold, sat him down on the side of the bed, and laid a cool hand on his forehead, all before the man could even react.

"Again, March?"

He snarled. "Not my fault."

His voice was raspy, his dark eyes a little unfocused, and sweat slicked his skin. But he was breathing easier compared to how he was two weeks ago, which was a relief.

"Alright," she decided. "Let's get you to the bath."

"I don't want your help."

She raised a brow, smirked. Challenging him. "You didn't say anything the last time when you shoved your face into my tits."

March jolted up, sputtering in disbelief, the red of his face only deepening but this time, Sandra knew it wasn't because of the fever. From the other side of the door, she could hear Olric and Ryis wheezing over.

Before the feverish man could react more, she just took his arm, patted his head, and led him to the bathroom without so much as a complaint.

And did it all over again.

-0-

lissen it's 7 am and i should have been asleep 6 hours ago

but ehh have this

previous story: Just lean on me

masterlist

[kazy-writes]

I wrote 17,000 words this week thanks to a tiktok edit of a blonde pixel character from a video game I've never heard of

[filthyfish]

HaleyXFemale Farmer 🧑‍🌾 yes thank you.

*this is my art, please do not repost

[moonyinpisces]

i’ve been poking fun at my girlfriend for reading robin/nancy stranger things fanfiction but a ronance edit just came across my fyp to chappell roan and. i feel like my third eye just snapped open

[dean-samw67]

Good luck, Babe 🧡🤍💖