#hemlock fom

[mozzaremi]

thinking about the modding community for this game in the future has me walleyed

[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 7*

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: Vera picks some very interesting hair dye for the farmer. March goes feral for it.

Author’s Note: No smut yet, but the end of this chapter is the lead-up. Do what you will with that info ;3c

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

The following weekend, Celine and December found themself inspecting Merri’s haunted attic furniture set with tilted heads and curious eyes.

“How does she make those spiderwebs so realistic?” Celine wondered.

“Real spiders,” her friend joked in turn.

“Ew, what?!”

“‘Ew?’ You don’t want little guys living in your dresser?”

“Why would I want insects in my dresser?” She furrowed her brow, “What if they‘re an invasive species and kill all my plants?”

December, who was a recent bug enjoyer thanks to her quests for Luc as of late, held back the intense urge to correct her — spiders are arachnids, thank you — instead responding, ”I can appreciate that you’re more worried about your plants than your clothes.”

The florist shrugged, “I’ll just pawn the critters off to Luc as I find them on me throughout the day.”

Josephine and Hemlock, who were arm-in-arm and browsing the same set just a few steps away, interjected in unison. ��Please don’t.”

December giggled while Celine pouted, “Too many bugs?”

“Too many spiders,” the bartender corrected. 

Josephine nodded, then shuddered, “Those things get speedy.”

“I would be too if I had eight legs,” Celine reasoned.

Upon passing close by and hearing talk of things with eight legs, Luc rushed over to rattle off some spider facts, which the four adults gladly listened to. While the little guy’s bug hyperfixation could be annoying for his parents physically, they all admired his dedication to entomology.

As the conversation died off, with three-fifths of the inn-running family parting ways, December and Celine found their way to Olric, March and Merri on the other side of the stall. March had been singing high praise about Merri’s craftsmanship, so Olric politely broke off to hang out with the women. He wasn’t involved in the conversation anyway — he’d already showered Merri in plenty of compliments about her furniture this week.

Their conversation took a turn into one about rocks, as they usually tended to with Olric. When Celine cooed over how adorable the really round rock in the museum was, the conversation shifted into how seriously square the nearby stone on display had been.

As the trio slowed down, deciding if they should visit Darcy or Vera first, December brought up to Olric that she decided she would dye her hair. Like he’d reminded her, it’s not permanent. What was the worst that could happen?

He and Celine beamed, practically shoving December in Vera’s direction. “Get in there, tiger!” the gentle giant told her, a hearty pat on the back sending her stumbling an extra few inches forward.

March, who had just arrived from his chat with Merri, looked on as December cautiously approached the hairdresser. He couldn’t imagine her with anything other than long, white hair. He also couldn’t help but wonder what she was planning to do with it.

Meanwhile, as Olric suggested, December requested to Vera that she take the reins, only asking that she wouldn’t cut her hair more than an inch or so. She often just trimmed it herself, and was pretty particular about it. 

Now, Vera was just as interested in Mistria’s gossip as anyone else. She was only human, and she could never simply brush off her clients’ tales about the town’s happenings. That said, she’d heard all the talk about December and March, she’d seen them glued to each other’s sides some weeks, and she’d watched as the grouchy blacksmith finally found someone to soften him up a bit — even if only slightly.

While she didn’t want to disappoint a clearly nervous customer with a full mane of bright red to match her “boyfriend’s,” no matter how badly she was itching to go nuts on such a perfectly blank canvas, she did think a nod to him could be fun. So, after a quick trim, Vera got to work on creating a small ombré that shifted her hair from its natural ivory down into a light blonde, which then faded into a coppery red-orange, and finished off with a dark brown. The dye was only on the bottom handful of inches of her mane, and then the lower inch or so of her bangs.

December wasn’t allowed to look until it was completed, and when she finally did, she thought it was a little strange, but very cute nonetheless. It was subtle enough to not make her feel overdone, and unique enough to give her some extra flair. She noted to herself, too, how downright impressive Vera’s precision with the dye on her fringe was.

“How’d you come up with this?” she asked, fiddling with a few strands.

“You’ve been hanging out with your new beau so much,” the hairdresser smiled, “so I made you into a little forge-toasted marshmallow!” She punctuated her words with a wink.

…Oh.

That answer turned December’s cheeks crimson while she barked a nervous laugh into her palm. March, Olric and Celine — who had been watching the full process save for a short break to grab drinks and snacks from the next stall over — were embarrassed, delighted, and positively tickled respectively. 

Dell had been walking past as the explanation went on, returning from a bathroom break at the General Store. She slowed down to be nosy, as one tended to in this small town. Upon hearing the news, she gasped and giggled and ran to alert the rest of the Dragonguard — and by proxy of her volume, several others nearby — who all responded in a similar fashion. 

Juniper’s hearty laugh could be heard from the chair December sat in. Elsie was already taking notes for a future romance novel she’d write. Jo and Hemlock — who’d been secretly rooting for the farmer and the blacksmith to get together for months — shared a laugh at such a public display of affection.

Just like that, the pair had become the talk of the town once again.

December’s laughs died into something more airy as she inspected and played with her ends. Vera kept her hair straight, but curled the bottom inch or so into some spiky swoops and styled it half-up into a messy bun to showcase the dye. It was soft, fun to look at, and the bottom portion was perfect for fiddling with at a time like this, which was exactly what December did.

“So? How are we feeling?”

“I—” she paused, smiling and letting out one last flustered breath, “I love it, actually.”

Vera’s smile at her answer could have lit up the whole town square. Nearby, Olric and Celine both nudged March from either side, and March… 

Well.

At first, he felt sheepish, a little guilty that December was put under more social pressure — in a subtle way — to be “his.”

But, as much as this did put more of a target on her head for teasing, she liked it. Loved it, even.

Why did that make him proud? Why was he suddenly so hung up on her being showcased as “his,” all over some silly hair dye? Why was the whole idea of “burning” the local “snow angel” so rewarding to him?

He wondered, too, why did it really arouse him? 

“—looks great!” 

March was ripped from his thoughts by Olric loudly complimenting the woman in question. Despite still being rosy, December had a hard time containing her smile. She wasn’t sure if it was more nervousness about the concept, or happiness about the change in her appearance fueling it at this point, but the distinction made no difference to March, who basked in her curved lips and bright eyes and currently-present dimples and “toasted” hair like it was the last few things he’d ever have the pleasure to see.

“Y-yeah!” he agreed. 

December and Celine were taken aback by his enthusiasm for a moment, but the farmer was glad nonetheless. She had no idea how he’d take this. At least it seemed like he was a fan. 

“Well,” Olric started, “I should get a trim before someone else swoops in there. I’ll see you guys around!”

He gave the three villagers a fist bump each before parting. Just as that interaction closed, Celine was summoned by Dell, thus breaking off from the remaining pair with a wave.

“Sorry” was the first word out of December’s mouth once they were alone. 

March furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I didn’t ask Vera to do this,” she clarified, once again playing with the newly colored ends of her hair, “I let her choose.”

March was quiet. From an outside perspective, he appeared pensive. December was unsure of what to make of it. 

“I…” March could hardly contain himself at this point, and shook his head, “Fuck. I love it.” He practically growled his words. The farmer’s eyes widened, her stomach fluttering. “Come here,” he ordered, taking her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“Oh.” While they passed by the fountain, she asked, “Why?”

March mumbled under his breath, “Can’t do this shit anymore.”

Whoa. What?

December paled.

Wordless while she wondered what he meant by that, she feared that he was going to cut things off with her over some hair dye that he’d literally just complimented. That this was it, that her heart was about to be shattered by March before she could even call him her boyfriend, man, partner, whatever. That she’d have to go back to Vera and ask her to help her chop the dyed portions of her hair off, in turn saving her from thinking about the blacksmith every time she saw her own reflection.

In reality, he just really wanted to fuck her. 

They still hadn’t had sex. They could have. They’d wanted to several times. They were very vocal about that fact, which led to some flirty, funny shenanigans in its own right. At this point, they were holding back purely out of spite for the people — mainly Juniper, of course — who insisted they’d already crossed that road. It was all for the bit.

So the farmer’s worries were quelled a short moment later, right as they stepped into the smithy. March practically slammed the door behind them, pinning December to it with his lips while he scooped her up by her thighs. 

She was too stunned to question it, gladly squeezing March’s hips between her legs to better support herself and wrapping an arm around his neck, her other hand resting against his cheek.

March had his own question instead. “How are you feeling?”

Assuming that he wasn’t just trying to exchange pleasantries at a time like this, December answered with her health for the day in mind. She sighed against his lips, “Not great.” He stole another kiss before she asked, “Why?”

March answered her inquiry with another, pressing his forehead to hers, “How does that stuff work when it comes to sex?”

December’s eyes widened. “Hypothetically, or..?”

“No.” His answer was instant, his eyes now boring into hers. “No, I want to know for right now.” 

The farmer’s body was burning up. Her eyes trailed down to his lips again while she opened her mouth, trying to form words that wouldn’t come out. Her excitement temporarily rendered her speechless, but quickly turned into anxiousness.

Ever since one of the first times December had taken care of herself after her accident, she’d been afraid for this time to come; to have to admit to someone that she would be, in plenty of people’s eyes, almost useless beyond this point in intimacy. Sure, she could walk and run and lift and pull and do whatever else she needed to from day to day, but those things could get hard, and sex would be no different. If anything, she knew it would be worse, given how foreign and strenuous the movements were. 

How often did she really need to straddle or sit on something, while repeatedly squatting and/or bouncing?

The answer was never. Literally never. 

And December knew how cruel people could be. How harshly women were judged overall — even in a society so sensitive towards gender equality, like Aldaria’s — never failed to transfer to their abilities in bed. If anything, the latter was several times worse, given how entitled so many people could feel with intimacy. The absolute last thing she needed was a harsh opinion to dampen her already low self-esteem when it came to this; and while she felt she was probably safe with March, she couldn’t know for sure how he would react until this very moment. 

“U-um,” she hesitated, “I can’t really do much.”

Luckily, the redhead had no quarrels to make. He would still want to be with her even if sex wasn’t an option at all. March’s grip tightened on December’s thighs, and he leaned in as if to kiss her again, but faked her out. 

Instead, he murmured, “So you’ll be my pillow princess then?”

She felt her soul leave her body as she breathed, shaky and quietly, “Holy shit.”

He smirked, proud of the effect he had on her. “Come on, December, focus,” March softly demanded when she didn’t answer his question.

Whatever was left of her corporal form was gone forever, she feared. She nodded almost desperately, her heart threatening to thump out of her chest. In turn, March had never felt cockier in his life, other than maybe whenever he received and bragged about his copious blacksmithing awards. 

He prodded, “You’d want that?” After another nod, he searched for more explicit consent, “Say it.”

She was quiet for a moment before she complied.“I want it,” with her eyes plastered on March’s mouth, yearning for him to kiss her again.

He was having none of that. “Hey,” he leaned down slightly to catch her eyes. “Look at me while you say it.” His tone coated December in goosebumps. When she brought her gaze up to meet his, he doubled down, “Tell me you want it.”

This didn’t even feel real to her. “I want it.”

“Perfect.” He finally kissed her before lifting her away from the door, their lips barely parting as he carried her to his room.

[molluskmirage]

My experience with playing the demo of: Fields of Mistria today

The adventures of Jello of Jackle Farm

Yes that is me, Jello! 

I met a guy…

He’s Perfect in every way. Just has a wife and 3 kids. Josephine is there room for one more? I can provide fresh produce and a farm the kids can play on. I can improve the town. Pretty please Josephine. Josephine he’s pretty Josephine. 3 kids 3 adults? Please Josephine. Even his name is wonderful. Josephine you did so well, I don’t want to intrude but can I add?? Josephine???

My last hurrah as the sunsets on the last demo day lobster in hand. Hemlock Ill be back my love.

Thus concludes Jello’s final days.

(Actual thoughts-very cute game Im obsessed with the bugs! Cant wait to cook and decorate and explore when the official release is out. Those mushroom monsters in the cave are so stinking adorable! Impossible to fight there so cute. Dozy is absolutely charming as well. So many cute features)

((was in a lot of pain today and this was such a welcomed distraction, the sfx noises are a tad harsh for me but there was an option to turn that off which I did and was nice, always appreciate the accessibility features. Another thing I really love is how bright it is, I have light sensitivity and dark games are soo difficult to see, zero issues for me here even when its night time! Very lovely :D))

[cringedropsaloon]

She's taunting me.

She fucking KNOWS I want that man 😭😭😭

[trashy-corvian]

Heard there's new farmer in Mistria. With some -intresting- herbs growing in his garden

[venlazlo]

Mistria VA Fancasts

work was killer, too tired to drawr today.

VA Fancasts under the cut w/ voice samples hehe.

Made in conjunction with my brother and we don't consume that much media so take this with a grain of salt and maybe drop a suggestion.

Nora - Leda Headey [Amelia - Infinity Train]

Holt - Sungwon Cho [Senshi - Dungeon Meshi]

Celine - Erica Mendez [Mia Karnstein - Code:Vein]

Dell - Noël Wells [Kelsey - Craig of the Creek]

March - Zeno Robinson [Hunter - The Owl House]

Olric - Joe Hernandez [Boucheron - Fire Emblem Engage]

Ryis - Marcus Scribner [Bow - She-Ra and the Princesses of Power]

Landen - Luc Roderique [King Harrow - The Dragon Prince]

Juniper - Veronica Taylor [Manuela - Fire Emblem Three Houses]

Valen - Cissy Jones - [Lilith Clawthorne - The Owl House]

Terithia - Cassie Ewulu [Saphir - Fire Emblem Engage] [Bonus]

Balor - Kumail Ali Nanjiani [Howell - Bee and Puppycat]

Hayden - Matt Mercer is just the obvious choice

Errol - J.K. Simmons [Stanford Pines - Gravity Falls]

Josephine - Roz Ryan [Cake the Cat - Adventure Time]

Hemlock - Bruno Campos [Prince Naveen - The Princess and the Frog]

Reina - Brenda Song [Anne Boonchuy - Amphibia]

Maple - Grace Rolek [Connie Maheswaran - Steven Universe]

Luc - Terrell Ransom Jr. [Darwin - The Amazing World of Gumball]

Elsie - Susan Egan [Rose Quartz - Steven Universe]

Adeline - Genesis Rodriguez [Perfuma - She-Ra tPoP]

Eiland - Brian Timothy Anderson [Rosado - Fire Emblem Engage]

Caldarus (Statue) - Glen McCready [Omeluum - Baldur's Gate 3]

Seridia - Mallorie Rodak [Frieren - Frieren] (placeholder i almost put veronica taylor again)

Darcy - Danica McKellar [M'Gann M'Orzz - Young Justice]

Louis - John Michael Higgins [Varrick - The Legend of Korra]

Merri - Elizabeth Grullon [Camila Noceda - The Owl House]

Vera - Kirby Howell-Baptiste [Grace Monroe - Infinity Train]

[kiiitasticgames]

That's it

That's his character

[allthefarminggames]

Sleeping Dragon Inn Family headcanons:

The whole family makes wash day a fun time. Snacks are prepared, and they raid their closets to have a dress-up party as they style their and each other's hair, sing, draw, read, and do other fun things together.

Luc is considering growing his hair out, so that it would look closer to Ryis' fade. Preferably with the sides having bug patterns shaved into. As of now, he still likes his short fade so he'll wait until he really wants to change it up. He's drawn pictures of himself with his potential new hairstyle several times now, so that time might be soon.

The times Reina grows her hair longer (but not too long!), she wears it as a ponytail, braids it, wears the braid around her forehead, or wears it in one bigger bun. She also braids her hair when it is above her shoulders. Because no matter the length, once she undoes the braids, her waves / curls have become even more pronounced. This opens different options for hairstyles like a dramatic side parting!

Maple wore puff bubble ponytails before the farmer came to town. She's narrowed down her choice of new styles to try to three: a pulled back, high afro; goddess braids because they are pretty and have a royal name; and cornrows with patterns, favorably a crown. Alternatively, she wants to encode a secret message that only dragons can read.

Inspired by Vera and his memories when he was a traveling musician, Hemlock changes his pompadour to flow forward. The two of them have a two-month running gag from the first Saturday Market after the change, where they refer to each other as 'long-lost relatives'. They switch it up each Saturday how they are supposedly related.

Josephine loves to put her locs into different styles. Updoes, braids, buns, hair loops, hanging free, etc. As she says, "The sky's the limit!"

[netscapenavigator-official]

Fields of Mistria's biggest mistake was choosing an art style that makes all the characters extremely fuckable...

and then not making all of the character's fuckable.

[kohiiflux]

She finally has a name and backstory! Also no, I don't know this was Hayden's birthday as well but let's keep it at that, I am doing this playthrough blind.

She's also a sore loser.

Context: She saw Celine watching a pot boiling in Jo's cooking class and is now in disbelief as she got beaten by someone she constantly flirts to (She flirts with almost everyone). I am still thinking on whom she should be paired to but I think I need more time in playing the game until I make a decision (When a game is so good narrative wise that I decided to go blind and do not see any wiki for characters)

[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 11 (FINAL)

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: Another rowdy Friday night at the inn leads into a cozy, domestic morning.

Author's Note: This is the longest fic I've written and actually finished. Ty for reading it, and I hope you enjoyed :3 <3

(Also. At the time I post this, it seems like Trump is gonna win the US election.. fellow Americans, please stay safe, please keep pushing on, and please take care of yourself. Ily)

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev

“Alright, ready?”

“No.”

“Come on,” March drew out the last word, wiggling his fingers. 

“I am not doing this again.”

“You don’t want some finger action?” Ryis butted in from beside December. The table was formed in the same way as March and December’s previous arm wrestle.

“Ha!” the farmer barked, nudging the carpenter while March groaned. 

Ryis nudged back, forgetting that drunken December excused nobody from her antics. She hopped up from her seat, a little wobbly before catching her balance, and began to noogie him.

“Uncle! Uncle!” he cried through his laughter, frantically patting his assailant’s arms.

“Yeah? What?” Landen called from the bar.

“No, not literally—“ The nephew heard an Oof! as December’s knuckles disappeared from his scalp, and turned around to see March trying to wrangle  the squirmy farmer back into her seat. ”Huh?!” Ryis reacted, thoroughly amused.

“Arm wrestle me, coward!”

“Why? What are you trying to prove?!”

“I just like winning,” March boasted, lifting her up over his shoulders like a damn sack of potatoes during the last word. “C’mere.”

Immediately at the bar, Hemlock, Terithia, Errol and Landen held their breath and winced, hoping someone was ready to catch the farmer should March drop her. They all recognized his strength, but had yet to see him lift someone — and this was with alcohol in him, no less.

“Unhand me, you cretin!”

“Hey, is that a good workout?” Olric asked his brother.

Immediately distracted by the question, March unceremoniously plopped back into his own spot, transitioning December into a bridal carry before setting her down in his lap in one fluid motion. The onlookers let out a sigh of relief before getting back to their conversation. 

December, whose heart raced at her partner’s show of strength, absentmindedly fidgeted with the pendant he wore around his neck while he responded, “Eh, I guess.”

“I should lift Merri.”

“What if you lift Merri,” December paused to swallow back what was either a hiccup or a burp — she couldn’t say which, “while Merri lifts something else? Like, a chair, or something.”

“Oh!” Olric snapped, wagging an approving finger towards the farmer. “I like that.” 

December tapped her head and winked in response. March tapped her head too, and knowing she’d attempt to bite his finger, retracted it before she could get the chance. She pouted and slumped herself against him. 

“Comfy?” Balor asked December. 

Yes. She could’ve fallen asleep right there, in spite of the inn’s volume; and March was much less hellbent on defeating his nemesis now, as he was more focused on how warm she was, how soft her hair felt as it brushed his bare bicep, and how adorable she looked curled up atop him with her cheek against his collar, so he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

She nodded confidently, her smile dopey and dreamy as she began shimmying further inward to lessen the space where her body ended and March’s started. Once she was situated, March reached around to the table and grabbed his beer. Just as he was about to take a sip, though, December stole it and took her own.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, ‘cause you’re being a real shit head right now.” 

“Hm?” December feigned innocence, “What do you mean?”

“Sharing is caring, bro,” Olric flicked March’s closest arm.

December happily hummed while swallowing another swig, “Mhm!” It was after this that March put a stop to her thievery. 

“You two should drink some water,” Ryis suggested into a sip of his own.

”You should drink—“

“My balls,” December cut March off. 

She really was on another level that night. Perhaps the sickly sweet desserts she shared with Celine and Eiland earlier, paired with the sugary drinks Hemlock had served them, wasn’t the best combination in the world. 

Regardless, it had been fun, and it made December funny, thus leading to March nearly spitting his beer onto her after hearing her disruptive words.

“Do you even have balls?” Ryis asked, hesitating halfway through the sentence, but finishing it nonetheless.

“Gigantic ones.”

Dell overheard this from near the cauldron, and immediately began to plan a new heist with the Dragonguard: one in which they’d sneak onto December’s farm to steal her gigantic balls, as Dell could only assume at her young age that December meant the beach balls her cows and sheep played with. She’d never seen them herself, but Celine had mentioned them in passing. 

The three agreed this would put their failed mission to snoop through Balor’s room to shame.

Olric was closest to them, and burst out laughing in the wake of their clumsy whispers. Balor patted him on the back when it turned into a cough, his own beer having mixed with his air. 

“Is this true?” Balor mused to March, giving Olric’s back one last hearty rub for good measure.

“They’re like boulders,” he nodded, “Never seen anything like ‘em.”

December snorted, hiding her face in the crook of March’s neck. He instinctively leaned his head atop hers. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Ryis admitted through his laughter, his eyebrows upturned, “You can never know for sure!”

“Why do you wanna know so much about my girl’s huge balls?” March accused, jabbing the air in the carpenter’s direction. 

December nuzzled him a bit to cope with being called his girl, as though it would rid her belly of its fluttering.

“Morbid curiosity.” 

Balor nodded in agreement with Ryis. 

Olric nodded too, but he didn’t care all that much. He was more interested in learning something new about his brother by proxy of this. Love is love, he figured, and whether or not December had colossal nuts didn’t matter to him as long as March was happy. 

“Alright, alright,” December giggled into her hand before lifting her face again to diffuse any potential genitalia allegations, “I don’t have balls.”

“Aw, crap!” Dell — who had begun eavesdropping again upon hearing Ryis’ speculations — whisper-yelled.

“Dell!” Maple gasped, “You can’t just say that!” 

“Gods, help me,” Olric doubled over, hearing the Dragonguard once again. He crossed his arms on the table and dipped his face into them, muffling his laughter.

This time, March and December both heard the kids and reacted similarly, folding in on each other as they often seemed to during nights like these. They didn’t even know the context — the pair simply thought that the interaction was silly. Balor, as usual, maintained a lopsided grin, his cool demeanor masking how hard he was struggling to not crack up.

Ryis couldn’t hear Dell, therefore he had no idea what was going on. He tilted his head at Balor in hopes for context, but the merchant simply shook his head. 

Damn. 

He used whatever the distraction was as an opportunity to go grab some glasses and a water pitcher from Hemlock, determined to look out for his friends.

__

The couple went on with their usual routine to get a head-start on sobering up — junk food and lots of water — before they both headed to December’s. It was a Friday, so they’d stayed out a bit later than they would on any other night at the inn, as most of the town tended to; regardless, they had no intention to separate, March happily following the farmer inside her home the moment she suggested he hang out for a while longer. 

Upon being greeted by Goose, December scooped him up and patted a few kisses to his head. Then, she held the cat out slightly, giving March a blank look until he caved and did the same — first to Goose, and then, to her surprise, to her. Still tipsy and overall just teaching himself to loosen up a bit around her, March didn’t care much about how grossly cute the action was. It felt strange, sure, but as December smiled up at him — Goose observing him too, with those buggy eyes of his, and still cradled in her arms — and tip-toed to give his cheek a kiss, he couldn’t help but be happy he did it.

He noticed in that moment how often something like that happened… him acting on impulse around her, and being rewarded for it, in a way. He didn’t know what to make of it.

They proceeded to sit on the couch with some more water, chatting for a while. December yapped about a cool moth she’d found the other night. If Errol’s enclosures weren’t so humane, she wouldn’t have had the heart to donate it, she admitted. Luckily, he makes them with the bugs‘ comfort in mind, so she knew it would be happy and that she could go see it whenever she wanted to. 

March all but melted while he listened to December continue to ramble on about bugs — something he never thought would happen, especially given how genuinely annoyed he was when Errol began accepting her critters as donations. Feeling the need to one-up her accomplishment in practically filling the entire museum all by herself, he bragged about an order he got from Dell to make a dragon-shaped belt buckle, and how well that was going in spite of the challenge. 

Similarly to March, December couldn’t help but swoon a little. When he got fired up, his eyes would twinkle like stars and his brows would furrow, like he was as determined as he was excited to simply dump all his knowledge about his craft onto whoever would listen. His passion was palpable. 

The two momentarily wondered, though, how he was going to get paid for this particular project. He’d cut Holt some slack if Dell didn’t contribute, but came to the conclusion that he really should’ve asked about that first.

December, while grabbing a much-needed pain killer, talked about how it took her far too long to realize that the best way to fight those rock-spewing assholes in the mines was to parry them, which is why she always had such scuffed swords. March, inviting her to lean against him when she arrived back, explained how upset Olric was that he got hit by those during his and December’s trip down there. He made it a point to lightly scold her too, for not being more careful with the fruits of her labor. 

He knew she didn’t enjoy forging her own equipment. He also knew she’d be damned if she ever purchased anything he made.

As they grew more weary, they’d begun to rely on one another to support each other’s weight, similarly to the last time they’d found themselves in this situation. Luckily, they had much less to worry about now, given how much closer they’d gotten from that night-onward. The lack of uncertainty was nothing short of a gift.

December’s body dragged lower and lower until she eventually had her head on the smith’s tummy. His own form had sunk far enough that his legs were barely even on the furniture anymore, so this was her best resting spot at the moment, really. March was also at an awkward angle, now, where he was half-laying back and half-leaning his weight onto his side, allowing them to easily look at each other while they tangled together.

He watched fondly as December fought sleep, doing her best to listen to his stories and stay coherent with her responses. He was convinced he was hiding his own weariness well, but December could see through the facade even in her barely-there state.

“Stay over?” she eventually mumbled, beginning to worry about his walk home. 

“Mmhn—“ he tried to answer — with what words, he had no clue — his head failing to stay entirely upright and his grip on December's thigh loosening.

She huffed a laugh through her nose, unable to help how cute she thought he was like this.

She reluctantly straightened before tugging his hand. “C’mon,” she insisted.

With a groan, March leaned up, and with some effort, they both stood tall. Goose had been on the cat tree beside them and got up as well, stretching and readying himself to follow them to bed.

December barely had it in her to change into pajamas, thus simply stripping herself of her bra and jeans before clamoring onto the mattress. March had no pajamas. Aside from a few baggy sweaters that it was far too warm for, none of the farmer’s clothes would fit him, so he found himself beside her in nothing but his boxer-briefs.

This was their first sleepover, the two simultaneously realized as Goose settled in with them. They’d had accidental naps together a small handful of times, but had yet to wake up side-by-side after a full night of rest. As December scooted back to be spooned, and March readily engulfed her in his arms, she smiled to herself, excited for how domestic this felt. How right it felt.

And as they woke up about eight hours later, having slept in until ten with their legs tied and heads foggy; as they took turns using December’s toothbrush, and then took an innocent shower together, washing their grogginess away; as March helped December harvest and water her crops, before getting started on breakfast while she released her animals to graze and frolic; March realized that this was exactly what he’d daydreamed of the last time he lingered here after a rowdy night at the inn.

Back then, he was worried by those thoughts. 

Back then, December rarely even had them — albeit, in her case, it was only because she never thought this would be possible, and didn’t want to get her hopes up for a future that didn’t exist. Her lacking daydreams about March were a defense mechanism, in a way.

Now, March welcomed his hopes and feelings, just as he welcomed his partner back inside, tugging her to stand between his arms as he topped their bowls of rice and greens with an egg each. 

Now, December welcomed such thoughts in the first place, especially as they sat on the bench she kept near Caldarus, sharing their meal and each other’s company beneath her fruit trees. She thought of what the future could bring. How many times they’d come to spend their earliest hours of the day together. Maybe they’d be each other’s people until the day they died, and grow old together, and make a routine of mornings just like this one.

She peeked up at March at that thought and was temporarily stunned, as though she’d looked at the sun itself. The rays that seeped through their leafy shade framed him perfectly, accentuating his warm undertones with a soft, welcoming light, similar to that of his forge’s fire. 

Feeling eyes on him, March reciprocated. On the opposite end of the spectrum entirely, he noticed how even in the shade, December seemed to glow. She was the moon, his beacon of light in the dark, with each smile and laugh that graced her face being a new phase in its cycle. She shifted phases then and there, and the tenderness in her eyes paired with the curve of her lips flustered March.

“What are you looking at?” he deflected, his cheeks warm. 

“Nothing much.”

“Oi,” he nudged her with a light elbow before scruffing up her hair.

“Oi yourself!” December laughed, lightly slapping his hand until he stopped. 

She promptly leaned against him once he’d settled down. March didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her shoulders and rest his cheek into her scalp, his thumb rubbing circles on her shoulder in the meantime. 

Happily existing in silence, they took in nature’s song while they watched the distant river flow, December’s animals play, and the pink petals that wafted over from the cherry blossoms around town dancing in the breeze. They were cozy like this, but more importantly, they were cozy together.

[ecureuildramatique]

just started fields of mistria and i may have a crush on hemlock cause he kinda looks like my bf~

[cringedropsaloon]

The bisexual Kings are interacting!!!

[kitsuga]

Daily. {March (FOM) x Reader/Farmer} 

Description: 

A fic in which March doesn’t like changes to his daily routine. 

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Tags: fluff, a swear word or two (or three), drinking, alcohol mention, hemlock spotted!!! Being a dad!!!, CLINGY and PATHETIC march agenda, not betad, not edited, gender neutral reader, fields of mistria/fom x reader/farmer, march x reader, march (fields of mistria)/(FOM) x reader/farmer, whatever tag you want i guess go crazy with ur imagination, 

Word Count: 2,879 

A/N: Written on: October 7, 2024  

I wonder if i love march because i usually AM the march. Self-conscious. Angry. Unapproachable. Dyed hair. Likes to hit things with hammers and gets way too happy when drunk. Anyway, LKSJDFHIUE fields of mistria helped me through terrible time recently; i scooped up its early access almost IMMEDIATELY and have been so in love with it since!! 

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He hadn’t realized it, but March grew fairly used to seeing that new farmer pass by the forge day after day. It became almost... routine, to see them from his peripheral and feel the twitch of his brow, ignoring the sudden increase of heat against his face that was surely from the forge he busied himself with.  

Some days they’d stop to annoy him, while he’d spare a few words out of the kindness of his heart, other days they’d simply throw him a smile and a wave, continuing their walk to wherever it was they’d decide to go that time. There were days they even ignored his presence and hurried on by—those were the days March liked the most, he was unbothered and uninterrupted—coincidentally, they were also the days he had the most trouble trying to fall asleep. Whatever. 

It was a constant, something expected, he would see them walk by his forge at least once a day. They’d dance along the path—hopping, skipping—frolicking through flower petals that danced in the wind alongside them in the crisp, spring air. They’d have days where they would practically sprint by and rush their hellos to make it to the beach, and others where they’d drag their feet and loudly bark up the wrong tree about the heat in the harsh summer sun. Fallen leaves would make constant crunching sounds as they’d make sure to find and step on every damn one just to get on March’s nerves with a giant smile on their face when autumn would roll around. He did get a laugh or two in when hidden ice had made them fall as they goofed around during the winter—he'd be oh-so-kind and let them warm up by the forge for a minute before they went about their day.  

Even through the seasons, this daily greeting was a constant. March hadn’t realized just how much of an impact this would have on his day-to-day schedule—or maybe he had and pushed away the thought—regardless of the true reasoning, it only donned on him when he found himself fidgeting and attempting to keep busy one day, to stay outside just a bit longer to catch sight of them, only to be graced by the lonely presence of the moon instead. 

Where were they today? Not that it mattered to him. They were probably out doing God knows what, making everyone in the town love them even more. Gross. March shook his head, trying to dispel the images of the farmer that continued to pop up in his mind. He didn’t want to see them. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t come by to annoy him. It didn’t bother him. 

But where in the world were they? He stepped onto the road, looking as far along the horizon as he could every which way. Had he just missed them? Maybe they snuck by him earlier, deciding that they’d leave him alone—maybe he’d just gotten so good at tuning them out that he never noticed them go by. Did they make it home alright? Whatever, it wasn’t his problem. He’d go inside and wash the day from him, relax, have a nice dinner with his brother, and get some sleep. 

He thought it’d be so simple. March felt as though his night passed him by—like he was looking at it through a stack of different paintings rather than living it first-hand. He couldn’t get that damn newcomer out of his head! Every waking thought was either accompanied by their face, their voice, or events including them replaying in his head. Now he lay in bed, looking up at his ceiling as the moonlight poured through the window, unable to get his mind to stay still. 

Did they go to the mines today? If they did, were they alright? Did something happen? Were they hurt? Had they exhausted themselves and passed out somewhere? Were they home? Had they eaten, washed up, tucked themselves into bed? March held his head in his hands, hoping if he squeezed it hard enough, he’d shut off his brain. It was driving him crazy! Why was he even thinking any of this—he didn’t care about them, he didn’t like them one bit! They were an annoyance, a pain in his ass, some... outsider! Why couldn’t he just go to sleep!  

The break of dawn welcomed him far too quickly, dragging him out of bed without a wink of sleep. Fine, whatever. He’d see them come by today and he’d just ask what their problem was. Maybe they were just home sick yesterday; sucks for them—maybe they should get better. No, not in a caring way! March rubbed at his face, smacking his cheeks lightly to snap himself out of it. He had things to do, he was going to do them. He was going to set his mind straight, focus, and go about his own day. 

Why weren’t they walking by! March held the hammer in his hand so tightly he started to shake, his teeth would shatter if he kept grinding them as hard as he was. The sun was setting and he still hadn’t seen them—not even a glimpse! He only got a fraction of his tasks done today; constantly looking over his shoulder to check if they had gone by, or standing out in the middle of the road to stare in all directions for a while to see if he could catch them coming. That makes two days now, don’t they know they were ruining his schedule? He found himself tossing and turning again that night, hardly getting any sleep as worry started to creep into his chest. 

Another day, then another, and another after that. Each day that had gone by without so much as a glimpse of them had now made his chest heavy—he didn’t like it. He didn’t know why it was bothering him so much. He entertained the thought of going to their home once or twice just to check in on them—yell at them for ruining his work—but something gnawed at him each time. What if they were avoiding him?  

Yeah, he wasn’t the nicest to them. He didn’t care that he wasn’t. Maybe they DID start avoiding him—that was their choice. It’d be good for him, after all! He wouldn’t have to deal with them distracting him, or... trying to be his friend. Maybe it did bother him that he wasn’t very nice to them. Maybe he did care, just a little bit. 

When Friday rolled around, he ended up at the tavern early, and drinking heavy. He just wanted to rid himself of these feelings, these thoughts. If he couldn’t work as a distraction or sleep them away, maybe drinking them away would work instead. It usually didn’t take much for his head to get lighter, to shed all his worries and let himself be all smiles and laughter, but he was desperate to keep his thoughts at bay. What if they were avoiding him so much that they’d even stop showing up to tavern nights? He knocked back another drink and laid his head on the bar’s counter. 

“You doing alright there, March?”  

March turned so he could face the voice, closing his eyes once his cheek touched the cool counter. 

“I’m FINE, Hemlock...” Was that voice coming from him? Which way was the room spinning? “Just fine...” 

“I’m thinking you’ve had enough for tonight,” Hemlock shook his head and tried taking March’s half-empty glass, “but you can talk about what’s wrong if you want. No pressure.” 

“Nooo,” March drew out his protest, not bothering to raise his head as he grabbed onto his glass, “don’t take that.” 

“Fine, alright. It’s the last one though, alright?” 

Hemlock leaned against the counter in front of him, staring at the young disheveled boy in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow, thinking for a moment before his eyes lit up in realization. Mischievously, he leaned even closer to the faux red-head and called out just loud enough for him to hear, while keeping his plan believable. 

“Oh, hey (Y/n)!” 

“WHERE?” 

March sat straight up, unsure if the deep red creeping over his features was from being drunk, thinking about seeing them, or if all the blood rushed to his head at once from how quickly he moved. He did not last very long before laying his head back on the counter, a fist crashing down beside it. 

“Spinning, spinning, should NOT have done that...” 

“Ah, I had a feeling that was the root of your little problem.” Hemlock teased, once he caught his breath after laughing at the poor boy’s expense. “What issue do you have with them now?” 

“No... no issue,” March had to calm his breathing. Was he flustered? Oh, no, just trying not to throw up. Wait, was he sure? “Maybe an issue. I don’t know. Why are they avoiding me?” 

“Could be because you aren’t very nice to them.” 

“I’m sooo super nice to them.” 

“Uh-huh...” Hemlock pushed a glass of water onto the counter, trying to slowly switch out March’s two drinks. “Have you tried going to see them?” 

“...I don’t want to find out it’s because they hate me.” 

“Oh, so that’s the real reason.” 

March lifted his head enough to peek up at the older man before turning his gaze to the hand beside him, now dragging his finger along the counter in circles to distract him. 

“I don’t get it. Why haven’t they been by all week? Why... does it bother me so much in the first place?” March closed his eyes again, trying to steady the room. “I like to come here and have some fun; why am I still all upset?” 

Hemlock pushed the water glass further towards March, slowly bringing his glass of beer closer to the back of the bar counter, stopping whenever March stirred slightly. It was a pity, really; Hemlock was well aware of what (Y/n) had been up to—if they were purposefully avoiding March, then they certainly never expressed it. If he remembered correctly, he questioned why they were walking so painfully slow from the tavern the other night, almost comically dragging out each step as they looked up the road behind them. 

‘Should I book you for your new comedy routine?’ 

‘I’m just... takin’ my time, Hemlock! Nothing odd about it.’ 

He remembered watching as they drug their shoe against the road to make their next step, slow as a snail. 

‘Uh... yup, nothing odd about it all right. Everything alright, (Y/n)?’ 

They had given him a sigh then, their body almost melting to the ground as they voiced their woes—too busy to make it anywhere but their farm and the tavern for some dinner at the end of the day, something about cleaning up the old place. It was almost killing them having to stay there instead of running off—or rather, running by the blacksmith. 

‘Isn’t March always giving you a hard time, anyway?’ He remembered asking, putting the back of his hand on his hip and smiling—he already knew the answer. 

‘That won’t stop me!’ They stood triumphantly then, stomping their foot on the ground. ‘I WILL get that boy to be my friend, whether he likes it or not!’ 

Hemlock remembered the shy heat that crept up their neck, touching their ears first before it reached their smile and they had to turn away from him before getting embarrassed further. 

‘Besides...’ their voice was soft, he thought, ‘when you get into a routine, the withdrawals... suck.’ 

Hemlock was brought back to the present by March blindly dragging his drink back to him, reversing all of his hard, secret work. He sighed, a smile on his face as he gave up and picked up an empty glass to start washing it. 

“Well,” he put on his wise father voice, “’when you get into a routine, the withdrawals... suck.’” 

Silent hung above both men a moment before March lifted his head with a confused glare. 

“Huh?” 

“Huh. I thought that would’ve been much cooler than it was. Context was probably better, in hindsight.” 

Both turned their attention to the opening tavern doors, a familiar figure now gracing the open room. A few others called out to them first, receiving a smile, a wave, and a short conversation in return. March sat up straight, ignoring how light headed it made him feel this time. 

“(Y/N)! Heyyy!" He practically drawled out his greetings. “C’mere, c’mere!” 

The heat from his blush was intermingling with the heat from being drunker than Hell, so he no longer paid it any attention. March eagerly patted the counter next to him, practically begging for them to come sit with him. If he were a dog, his tail would have wagged so intensely as the wide smile on his face mirrored theirs as they made their way over. 

“Uh, hi there March! Had enough to drink already?” 

“You’re here!” March let a genuine, heartfelt giggle bubble up from his chest at how light their presence alone made him feel. 

“I am—oh! Okay--” 

March practically threw himself against them, his head against their shoulder while they tried to hold onto the drink Hemlock has just offered them. His bottom lip jutted out, a very prominent pout, as he started to drag his finger along their extended arm now, drawing little shapes like he had done previously to the counter. 

“...Where were you?” His voice grew oddly quiet. “You haven’t been by in days.” 

“Well, I--” (Y/n) tried to explain. A heavy wave of guilt washed over them, a huge pang of pain shooting through their heart at how March looked up at them—sad, puppy dog eyes, his metaphorical ears and tail drooping as though he were sopping wet from the rain. They had to grip at their heart, almost comically, dramatically, throwing their head back in despair at just how evil they had been! 

“I’m sorry! I had a lot of work on the farm, you know? There’s a lot of cleaning up to do there before I can think about maybe expanding my crops, or working on a barn, you know?” They stuck their lips out into a pout of their own, gently patting March’s exposed cheek with their other hand. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.” 

March looked back down at their arm again, now dragging his finger up and down it, quietly mumbling, hoping that they wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“Wasn’t worried...” he started, mumbling even softer, “Just... missed you.” 

Though he thought it were quiet enough, a drunk person’s reality never seems to match; (Y/n) stared down at him, almost dumbstruck at how loudly he had professed his feelings—they weren’t much, but those words alone proved to (Y/n) that there really WAS some sort of fire in that frozen heart of his! Their gaze softened as they slowly turned their arm over, opening and closing their palm a few times to signal an offer. 

March almost immediately, willingly, took their hand and interlaced their fingers. He kept his eyes trained on their hands, studying the way their fingers seemed to fit perfectly between his. After they gently leaned their head against his, he spoke again—a little more clearly this time. 

“So... you don’t hate me?” It sounded pained. 

“No, I don’t hate you in the slightest, March.” 

“...You weren’t avoiding me?” 

“Not at all.” They gave his hand a little squeeze. “Is that what you thought this whole time? Is that why you’re so clingy tonight?” 

“...No.” March huffed, closing his eyes and turning his face away, though he doesn’t dare take his head off of their shoulder. Their soft laugh surrounded him like a soft melody, and he relished in it a moment before speaking up again. “Don’t ruin my daily schedule. Come by at least once a day.” 

“Alright,” they laughed again, “Demanding, much?” 

“You’re making it difficult to get my work done. To sleep. Just—come by at least once so I can see you and have a good day.” 

(Y/n) nuzzled against the top of his head slightly, a smile hidden from his view as they agreed, choosing to ignore the nervous way March started to fidget, and ignoring the way butterflies flew rampantly in their stomach. With their free hand, they brought the glass of water Hemlock had been trying to push on him all night up to his lips, encouraging him to drink at least a bit. 

At least for the night, tension between them had settled—whatever tension they chose to believe there was. March’s chest felt lighter, a weight lifted off his shoulders, as he basked in their glow rather than the cold, lonely moon’s, just for tonight. A goofy, genuine smile made its way up to his eyes, watching as he messed with (Y/n)’s hand and easily accepted any time they gave him water. 

“You’ll forget all this tomorrow, huh?” 

“Yup.” He smiled, giving their hand a squeeze and slightly cuddling further into their shoulder. 

“You’ll go back to hating me tomorrow too, then?” 

“As long as you remember to come by, absolutely.” 

[fieldsofwriting]

Can all the bachelors and bachelorettes from FoM sing, or at least know how to?

Ooooh this is a good one!! I’m gonna do who can and can’t sing as two separate categories.

Can’t Sing:

- Balor: sorry buddy. I just look at him and I’m convinced he can’t hold a tune. I think he can ‘sing’ I can see an easier song- one that’s more spoken in tune rather than sung sounding really good. But as for singing? No. Mans can’t sing.

- Juniper: I love her. I really do. But I can not be convinced she can sing. I’ve heard her laugh (/aff) and I think she would be tone deaf. I’m so sorry.

- Adeline: Simualr to Baylor, I dont think she’s awful if she tries. But I think she’s a hummer not a singer if that makes sense.

Can Sing:

- Celine: My beloved girl can sing. She sings as pretty as the flowers in her garden. She probably sings shyly, I don’t see her being an overpowering voice. But I also like to imagine she sings lullabies to Dell when she spends the night.

- Ryis: He can sing. 100% there’s no doubt in my mind. He’s like a disney prince singing to his beloved birds. I also think he can whistle like a pro, he likes to say the birds taught him.

- Valen: I can not explain this. She can sing. And it’s Opera. I think she’d fuck up the Opera bro, she’s got this regal sophistication that just screams Opera.

- Eiland: I think he’s better at singing that his sister, but still not the best out of those who can sing. Similar to how Adeline hums while she works, I can see him digging and singing to himself.

- Reina: She can sing too, for sure! Hemlock is a performer, I definitely think it’s something she inherited from her dad. Plus I can see her jamming out in the kitchen and singing while she’s really in the zone for cooking.

-March: I think he can sing. But he would rather take that to his grave than ever admit it. He doesn’t hum, he doesn’t whistle. You would think this man has no musical bone in his body but then he’d be rocking your baby to sleep one night and you’d hear the most soft and beautiful voice from him.

Wild Cards:

- Hayden: I genuinely can not think if He would be a good singer, or a bad but endearing singer. If he’s good, then he sings to his animals every night some sweet country and they love it. If he’s bad? Then he still does it but they all love it still because he’s trying his best. I think he’d ether have the voice of an angel or sound like a raccoon trying to get out of a garbage can.

Bonus!

- Orlic: I think he’s got the voice of an angel. He gets so much praise and love from everyone because he sounds so good. He’d sing any and every where he got the chance. Not to show off necessarily but just because he likes it and it makes people smile!