Fom - Blog Posts

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎

[After countless side quests—gathering rare relics, artifacts, and questionable items,—casting complicated spells (including accidentally turning their cow blue for a week and setting a tree on fire), the Farmer finally frees Caldarus from his statue prison.]

Caldarus: *stands before them, now in human form, his dragon wings unfurled, horns glinting in the sunlight, and a tail lazily swishing behind him. The air practically hums with power.*

Farmer: *gawking, inner thoughts* Oh no. He’s hot. Like, "burn-down-my-crops" hot.

Caldarus: *stretching his wings, glancing at his hands with a satisfied grin* I’m finally free… after a thousand years. I can feel the wind again. *breathes deeply* No more being a glorified lawn ornament.

Farmer: *still staring* Uh-huh. Majestic. Totally majestic.

Caldarus: *turning to them with a charming smile* Truly, I owe you a debt I cannot hope to repay. Tell me, Farmer. What reward would suffice for freeing me?

Farmer: *already holding out a bouquet, a ring, and a chest full of their finest gold and jewels* Simple. Marry me.

Caldarus: *blinking, wings twitching in surprise* ...Pardon?

Farmer: Look, you’re tall, you have wings, horns and you practically radiate ‘mysterious ancient power.’ You expect me not to shoot my shot?

Caldarus: *staring at the offerings, then at the Farmer, tail flicking in amusement* You freed me from an ancient curse and your first thought was marriage?

Farmer: *nodding enthusiastically* Yup. Right here, right now. We can skip the long courting phase. I’ve got the ring, the flowers, and enough wealth to fund a honeymoon in every region of Mistria. Let’s go.

Caldarus: *crossing his arms, smirking* I see you’ve also conveniently ignored the thousand-year gap in life experience. I don’t even know what a 'honeymoon' is.

Farmer: Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Lesson one: It involves a lot of cake and maybe—just maybe, romantic walks under the moonlight. Lesson two: you looking like that means I have no self-control.

Caldarus: *chuckling, wings rustling* Hmm. So bold. I do admire confidence in a mortal. But tell me, are you proposing because of my power… or my devastatingly good looks?

Farmer: *deadpan*...Yes.

Caldarus: *sighing, rubbing his temples as his tail sways* I suppose I should have expected this. You were always talking to my statue about your tragic love life.

Farmer: *shrugging* Hey, you gave great advice! Plus, you could’ve warned me that you were this attractive.

Caldarus: As a statue? Should I have etched a warning plaque? ‘Caution: Restoring this relic may result in intense attraction.’

Farmer: Honestly? It would’ve saved me a lot of emotional turmoil right now.

Caldarus: *snorts, wings twitching with amusement* And you believe a mere proposal is enough? Have you considered the implications? I am an immortal dragon guardian. Marriage is a… complicated matter.

Farmer: Pfft. You sound like you’re overthinking it. I mean, you’ve been stuck as a statue for a thousand years. Surely you’ve had time to think about settling down.

Caldarus: *deadpan* Yes. Clearly, I spent every waking moment contemplating wedding registries and floral arrangements.

Farmer: See? You’re a natural. I’ll handle the registry; you just show up looking majestic and vaguely dangerous.

Caldarus: *exasperated but amused, pacing with his tail flicking* Do you always leap into life-altering decisions without thought?

Farmer: Absolutely. Did you not hear the part where I accidentally turned my cow blue? Commitment issues? Never heard of them.

Caldarus: *pauses, glancing back with a raised brow* That… explains a great deal.

Farmer: Come on. We already have a history. Remember when I told your statue self about that embarrassing date with the cute blacksmith?

Caldarus: *groans dramatically, covering his face with one hand* Unfortunately, I do recall. You spoke for three hours.

Farmer: And yet you didn’t turn to dust. Clearly, we’re meant to be.

Caldarus: *peeking through his fingers, giving them a look* You are infuriating.

Farmer: But charmingly persistent.

Caldarus: *sighing, wings drooping slightly as he gives a reluctant smile* Persistent is one word for it.

Farmer: *grinning, stepping closer* So… is that a ‘yes’?

Caldarus: *arching a brow, giving them a slow, teasing look* Hmm. Tempting. But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than showing up with shiny trinkets and reckless confidence.

Farmer: Wow. Harsh. After everything I did to free you?

Caldarus: *smirking, wings giving a playful flick* I am grateful. Truly. But I’ve been sealed for a thousand years. I’m hardly rushing into a binding contract with a mortal who once confessed they tried to romance a merchant for discount prices.

Farmer: *groans* Okay, first off, it was a strategic decision. Second, it didn’t work anyway. Third—!

Caldarus: *laughing now, warm and rich, shaking his head* Enough. Your desperation is amusing, but I need time to explore this world again. Perhaps if you prove yourself more… convincingly, we’ll revisit this conversation.

Farmer: *grinning smugly* Oh, you’re so into me.

Caldarus: *turning away, tail flicking with mock indifference* Keep telling yourself that, mortal.

Farmer: *calling after him* Don’t worry, I will! You will be mine!

Caldarus: *under his breath, smiling* ...Infuriating mortal indeed.

Me, patiently waiting for Caldarus to show up in human form: I am cool, composed, the pinnacle of self-restraint.

Also me the instant he graces my screen: unhinged dragon-simp screeching

I have been religiously feeding this Dragon essence like a devoted cultist, and now he finally descends in human form? My soul is prepared. My heart is not.

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎

[After countless side quests—gathering rare relics, artifacts, and questionable items,—casting complicated spells (including accidentally turning their cow blue for a week and setting a tree on fire), the Farmer finally frees Caldarus from his statue prison.]

Caldarus: *stands before them, now in human form, his dragon wings unfurled, horns glinting in the sunlight, and a tail lazily swishing behind him. The air practically hums with power.*

Farmer: *gawking, inner thoughts* Oh no. He’s hot. Like, "burn-down-my-crops" hot.

Caldarus: *stretching his wings, glancing at his hands with a satisfied grin* I’m finally free… after a thousand years. I can feel the wind again. *breathes deeply* No more being a glorified lawn ornament.

Farmer: *still staring* Uh-huh. Majestic. Totally majestic.

Caldarus: *turning to them with a charming smile* Truly, I owe you a debt I cannot hope to repay. Tell me, Farmer. What reward would suffice for freeing me?

Farmer: *already holding out a bouquet, a ring, and a chest full of their finest gold and jewels* Simple. Marry me.

Caldarus: *blinking, wings twitching in surprise* ...Pardon?

Farmer: Look, you’re tall, you have wings, horns and you practically radiate ‘mysterious ancient power.’ You expect me not to shoot my shot?

Caldarus: *staring at the offerings, then at the Farmer, tail flicking in amusement* You freed me from an ancient curse and your first thought was marriage?

Farmer: *nodding enthusiastically* Yup. Right here, right now. We can skip the long courting phase. I’ve got the ring, the flowers, and enough wealth to fund a honeymoon in every region of Mistria. Let’s go.

Caldarus: *crossing his arms, smirking* I see you’ve also conveniently ignored the thousand-year gap in life experience. I don’t even know what a 'honeymoon' is.

Farmer: Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Lesson one: It involves a lot of cake and maybe—just maybe, romantic walks under the moonlight. Lesson two: you looking like that means I have no self-control.

Caldarus: *chuckling, wings rustling* Hmm. So bold. I do admire confidence in a mortal. But tell me, are you proposing because of my power… or my devastatingly good looks?

Farmer: *deadpan*...Yes.

Caldarus: *sighing, rubbing his temples as his tail sways* I suppose I should have expected this. You were always talking to my statue about your tragic love life.

Farmer: *shrugging* Hey, you gave great advice! Plus, you could’ve warned me that you were this attractive.

Caldarus: As a statue? Should I have etched a warning plaque? ‘Caution: Restoring this relic may result in intense attraction.’

Farmer: Honestly? It would’ve saved me a lot of emotional turmoil right now.

Caldarus: *snorts, wings twitching with amusement* And you believe a mere proposal is enough? Have you considered the implications? I am an immortal dragon guardian. Marriage is a… complicated matter.

Farmer: Pfft. You sound like you’re overthinking it. I mean, you’ve been stuck as a statue for a thousand years. Surely you’ve had time to think about settling down.

Caldarus: *deadpan* Yes. Clearly, I spent every waking moment contemplating wedding registries and floral arrangements.

Farmer: See? You’re a natural. I’ll handle the registry; you just show up looking majestic and vaguely dangerous.

Caldarus: *exasperated but amused, pacing with his tail flicking* Do you always leap into life-altering decisions without thought?

Farmer: Absolutely. Did you not hear the part where I accidentally turned my cow blue? Commitment issues? Never heard of them.

Caldarus: *pauses, glancing back with a raised brow* That… explains a great deal.

Farmer: Come on. We already have a history. Remember when I told your statue self about that embarrassing date with the cute blacksmith?

Caldarus: *groans dramatically, covering his face with one hand* Unfortunately, I do recall. You spoke for three hours.

Farmer: And yet you didn’t turn to dust. Clearly, we’re meant to be.

Caldarus: *peeking through his fingers, giving them a look* You are infuriating.

Farmer: But charmingly persistent.

Caldarus: *sighing, wings drooping slightly as he gives a reluctant smile* Persistent is one word for it.

Farmer: *grinning, stepping closer* So… is that a ‘yes’?

Caldarus: *arching a brow, giving them a slow, teasing look* Hmm. Tempting. But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than showing up with shiny trinkets and reckless confidence.

Farmer: Wow. Harsh. After everything I did to free you?

Caldarus: *smirking, wings giving a playful flick* I am grateful. Truly. But I’ve been sealed for a thousand years. I’m hardly rushing into a binding contract with a mortal who once confessed they tried to romance a merchant for discount prices.

Farmer: *groans* Okay, first off, it was a strategic decision. Second, it didn’t work anyway. Third—!

Caldarus: *laughing now, warm and rich, shaking his head* Enough. Your desperation is amusing, but I need time to explore this world again. Perhaps if you prove yourself more… convincingly, we’ll revisit this conversation.

Farmer: *grinning smugly* Oh, you’re so into me.

Caldarus: *turning away, tail flicking with mock indifference* Keep telling yourself that, mortal.

Farmer: *calling after him* Don’t worry, I will! You will be mine!

Caldarus: *under his breath, smiling* ...Infuriating mortal indeed.

When you think you've finally settled on the NPC you want to marry, but then you meet another interesting character and suddenly want to pursue them too. You’re curious about their story, but your heart won’t let you divorce your current spouse—so you start a new save file. Then another. Each one with a different farmer OC, each with their own love interest and story. Before you know it, you've built an entire farming game world where your OCs coexist. And now, every time you find another NPC attractive, you have to create yet another OC, complete with a backstory, personality, and design… until it becomes a full-blown creative headache. 😵

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)

After FOM Full Update:

ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜰɪᴇʟᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪꜱᴛʀɪᴀ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴇᴡ ᴠᴀʟʟᴇʏ

March: *who is drunk* Heeeey Farmer, you looking mighty fine today. I wish could kiss you~

Farmer: Oh...Neat!

*later*

Farmer: *lying face down on their bed holding a phone calling to their relative from Stardew Valley* I said "NEAT" right in front of everyone! Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say NEAT but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid!

Farmer: *holding their baby while using their phone* Don't beat yourself up too much, cousin.

Farmer: I will never show my face in front of everyone again! Especially to March. How can I face him without embarrassing myself?

Farmer: Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Sebastian confessed their love for me?

Farmer: Didn't you thank him?

Farmer: *stays still and looks at the ceiling* I fuc-freaking thanked him.

A/N: I made a banner and dividers (I found the stars on pinterest) 😌 look at me go. But, once again this is tagged as x reader as well. Feel free to use a word replacer for this :) (I also know that March’s eyes are black. However, I decided to take creative freedom.)

Summary: Violet has been in Mistria for just a little over a week now. But she has never experienced drunk March before.

Warnings: Just drinking at the Inn on friday night!

Settling into her new life in Mistria wasn’t hard. Violet got up everyday bright at early, watered her crops and tried to clear her farm for a few hours before she’d inevitably run up to town and buy seeds to replenish the ones she harvested. She’d stop at the inn and get some soup, talk to Hemlock or Jo when they were there. Then she’d run around a bit more, stopping in to say hi to everyone. Maybe go do some fishing or check out the Western Ruins to see if there was anything else so could donate to the museum. But there was one thing she never skipped. And it was saying hello to everyone, that was always the number one priority.

She’d never skip March. Despite his prior attitude, and as much as she wanted too. Violet had to prove to him and everyone else here that she wasn’t going anywhere. But, her first Friday in town as she shuffled into the Inn after getting her farm- mostly cleared off she was met with Reina’s bright bubbly voice.

“Violet!” She grins, running around to get to her faster. God- that action alone made her want to scoop her up into her arms and spin her around. Reina was so sweet every single time without fail. She felt like a friend that Vi could talk to for hours while laying in her lap. And normally she would share the same enthusiasm as her but, Violet ended up looking up slowly from the pure exhaustion she was experiencing; those rocks on her farm were no joke. And while Reina was always a delight to see, she just wanted soup. That creamy delightful smelling soup that was bubbling in the cauldron. Was that cheese? God she hoped it was cheese.

“Mm?” She grumbles but it doesn’t deter Reina. She quickly gets her a bowl of soup and slides in next to her. Violet's whole mood increasing tenfold as she digs in and looks at Reina.

“You have to make sure to come to the inn tonight!” Reina beams, with the stupidly gorgeous smile she had. “It’s always a blast on Friday nights! Everyone has so much fun! Tell me you’ll come!” She pleads with her. And Violet is a simple woman.

With food in her system, finally the farmer smiles. “It’s really that cool? I guess I’ll have to come check it out. But i’m working on getting the bridge repaired for the Saturday Markets. So, it might be later in the night.” She replies smiling at her new friend. Reina grins and claps, reaching to give her a hug which Violet quickly accepts. It was like hugging one of those giant stuffed bears you won at carnivals.

“Yes! That’s fine! Whenever you can!” She beams. Violet had to admit, her enthusiasm was nice. Everyone seemed so excited to integrate her into this town as if she was always apart of it. It…was refreshing. Violet gives Reina a nod.

“You have my word, I’ll be here.” Vi smiles, and she meant it. She'd be there. It would be nice to relax and hang out with everyone at the Inn, she just hoped she could get the bridge done before then.

———

It felt silly. Violet felt completely and utterly foolish. Standing in front of her mirror, just minutes before she was going to head over to the Inn trying to decide what to wear. Surely everyone would be wearing their normal everyday clothes. She kicks away the little black dress. But why- why did she care so much about her own outfit?! She could just wear her normal outfit. It would be fine. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this might be a good chance to show off for a particular red head-

She shakes her head, "No." She says quickly pointing at herself in the mirror. "No, no, no, Violet. You are not falling for a red head! He's not even a real red head! You can see his roots! You are not doing this." She scolds herself. "This is your chance to distance yourself from anything and anyone. We are not fucking it up because we need therapy!" Violet lets out a big huff. Running her hand through her hair, and nodding. She'd just- wear this. Her normal outfit. Stripped shirt. Overall dress. Knee highs. It be fine.

Once, she enters the Inn she can see why Reina was so insistent. Everyone is there, sitting at various tables doing whatever it is- they were doing. It was bustling, it was lively...it felt like home.

"Violet!"

The Violet in question looks to see Reina rushing forward, a warm smile on her face. "You made it!" She cheers, god- she was so fucking sweet. Violet just wanted to curl up with her and pour her heart out to her. She was so wonderful, Violet can feel the smile spread.

"I told you! I wouldn't miss it!" She gives Reina a hug. Resisting the urge to melt into her arms. "But...everywhere looks so busy..." She whispers.

"Oh! Don't worry about that, just walk around and chat! Everyone kinda does their own thing, you'll find your place in time." Reina reassures. Those words- she had no idea the amount of tears Violet is holding back in that very moment.

"Y-yeah..." Violet nods, "Right." She gives Reina a nod before going over to the Eiland, Celine, Balor, Adeline, and Holt.

"Hello, Violet!" Eiland greets, his smile isn't as warm as Reina's- at least not in the same capcity. Where Reina's smile was like curling up with a blanket, in front of the fireplace on a cold winter morning? Eiland's was like the sunshine, like when you were a kid and played too hard during the summer falling to the ground and feelings the warm ground. “We’re playing Dungeons and Drama! You’re welcome to listen for a bit.” He offers.

“Yeah.” Violet nods, sitting next to Holt with a smile. Everyone introducing their characters had her smiling as she went to enjoy some of the other groups as well. She’d never tell a soul but The Bearded Bad Brad was her favorite so far.

At the next table, she played around of cards before she realized Olric was just- unbelievably lucky. She frowned, she hated loosing. And, everyone was starting to get rowdy because of his unbelievable luck. So, she politely excused herself from the table. Making her way over to the bar-

“Violet!” March said, but that was way too enthusiastic to be March. Slowly, she turned around, and it was in fact March. Or a clone of him? It had to be, standing there with the biggest smile she’d ever seen him have. Slight blush on his cheeks, “Come over here! Sit next to me!! You’re always so busy during the week!” The clone said.

“March is quite the lightweight.” Elsie speaks up. Violet looks over at the regal old woman. “But it is him, he’s a kind drunk.” She gives Violet a nod. She turns back to March.

“You’re telling me that’s not a clone?”

A roar of laughter from the bar. “No, dear.” Elsie smiles. “That very much so is March, our grumpy little blacksmith.”

“Violet!” He whines, “Come here!” He pouts even more. How could she refuse? Making her way over to the drunk March, she can’t help but smile at him. His hair was mused from him running his hands through it, his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol. His smile was contagious, especially as he realized Violet was walking toward him.

“Hi March.” She smiles gently. Her heartbeat picking up, starting to sound like a kick drum in her ears. He was so- devastatingly pretty. Up close, March looked so fucking good. His stupidly nice jawline, dazzling hazel eyes. Violet blinks- Hazel? Weren’t they black? She tries to subtly move further away, watching as the light hits them different changing the color. Making it appear a darker almost black color.

March, does not like that Violet is leaning away. He wanted to examine every part of her face. The way that her cheeks moved when she smiled, the perfect plumpness of her lips, how her eyes shimmered like jewels in the light. The purple hue catching the light like she melted down a purple sapphire and let it pool in her eyes. He also needed to know why she looked so confused, reaching a hand out he gently pressed her back into his side. “You look confused.”

“Your eyes aren’t black.” She mumbles, still looking at him like that. Almost like her gaze was pinning him to his spot.

March raises an eyebrow, smiling and letting out a small laugh. “No. They aren’t.” He grins, “Why? Do you think it make me prettier?” He says batting his perfectly dark eyelashes up at her. Violet lets out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around his broad, sturdy shoulders. Caldarus strike her down now. She was touching him. She was touching March, and he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pushing her off, she felt her stomach doing flips at the proximity.

“No, it just shocked me. They normally look black when you’re next to the forge.” She comments softly, still entranced by them. She wants to reach up, cup his cheek and tilt his head up so she can see them better.

“Mm.” March nods, leaning his head on her shoulder. Violet can feel her face heating at the action. She can feel eyes on her from the other patrons, and if she could muster a look at them she’d glare. But if she looks anywhere but firmly behind the bar, she’d explode. “Olric’s got them too.”

“Yeah?” She breathes, looking down at March. “Good to know.”

“Do you like them?” He looks back up at her. Violet’s breath hitches as she sees the swirls of green and brown in his eyes even better. The light from above emphasizing more of the green. “You look like an angel.”

Violet shakes her head. “Wh-what?” She says with a shocked laugh.

March gives her a big smile. Reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You look like an angel. The light is like-“ He moves his hand around her face, to signal the halo of laughter around her.

She needs air. She needs space. She can’t do this- March can’t be that sweet. No matter what Elsie said, this had to be a clone of March and the real one was plotting her demise somewhere. “M-March…” Violet says quietly, taking a step back. But he frowns, pulling her back into him.

“I like when you say my name.” He mumbles. Still looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. As if he would give her the world. Violet couldn’t do this. She steps away from him, dodging his arms again.

“Goodnight March.” She whispers quickly, slapping some money down on the table to cover her food for the night and rushing out.

A/N: I know that March’s sprite has black eyes- but consider. No. Kfjjfjfksks no in all fairness I just thought it be interesting if he had hazel eyes, my brother does and they change the intensity depending on the lighting he’s in. So I thought because he’s around the forge so much it be interesting!

Here's a random headcanon for my future character in Fields of Mistria

It has been mentioned in the game that before your farmer moved to Mistria, they were also a member of the Adventurer's Guild. (I believe) Then what if, your main character in Fields of Mistria used to live in Stardew Valley until something significant occurred that took a toll on them.

One day, Marlon received news from one of his old adventurer friends in the Capital about a request for help from Mistria. Recognizing that his comrade and student needed a change of scenery, he informed your MC about the opportunity of a new farmland in exchange to assist the town. After a lot of thinking, the MC (soon-to-be mc in FOM) decided to start anew, bidding farewell to their cousin, the MC of Stardew Valley, before relocating to Mistria.

I just couldn't help but envision my Farmer from Stardew Valley and my future Farmer from Fields of Misteria as being related, perhaps as cousins. This could lead to an interesting story where one visits the other's farm from a different place and explores the areas.

I haven't played "Fields of Misteria," but I've seen some playthroughs on YouTube where players interact with this npc named March. I definitely sense some enemies-to-lovers dynamic between him and the MC. ( ╹▽╹ )

Why is my fyp filled with Fields of Mistria content?! I keep coming across this red-haired hunk of a blacksmith!