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surprise smooch

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Hey does anyone have any Hamareth? I could use a bump of hamareth if anyone has some. Hey I saw you with Hamareth could I bum some hamareth off you? Like does anyone have any spare hamareth they could share.? What do I have to do to get some hamareth around here??
My sister had her baby last month and I’ve had baby fever SO bad ever since. Drawing some Hamareth+Luxa cuteness because otherwise I might combust. I’m finally gonna meet my niece in a couple weeks!
Hamnet & Judith are waiting for her husband to be done with yet another planning meeting. She’s doing her best from distracting Hamnet from the report he’s supposed to be finishing for the briefing.
Mareth sewed that little bat and you can’t convince me otherwise. I headcannon that he’s always bugging Hamnet to go get her from Judith. He wants a few of those wiggly stinky things of their own, when the mess with Gorger is over.
Hamnet and Luxa on the beach looking for crystals. Her first time outside of Regalia.
Luxa and Hamnet doing some pre-workout stretching. Ughhh baby yoga. It’s fine, I’m not crying.
LOVE the newborn snuggles. One nice thing about being in the upper military is that Hamnet is housed in the palace and can always get a snuggle whenever he wants— especially after a long day.
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I had a really tough week and it’s been nice to focus on these in the evening instead of scrolling. I’m still trying to nail down the style i want to draw them in, but I’m getting close :)
I’ve got a few more ideas for happy scenes, but WAY more angst coming up.
Returning to the fic idea of Mareth and Ripred being forced to coparent Hazard/coexist and in the chapters where we really start to get heavy/into their psyche's we get flashbacks of their relationships with Hamnet and we get to see just how different he was, practically a different man for each, and Ripred has a habit of suppressing those memories until he's talking to Hazard about his family he lost and realizes he struggles to remember one or two of his pup's names because he's been disassociating/burying it so forcefully.
They're talking after living together for awhile, Hazard and Luxa are in bed, Ripred's reading and Mareth's going over paperwork, Hamnet comes up, Mareth says he just doesn't want to remember. He means 'not think about it' or 'not remember right now' and Ripred grabs his arm with such a desperation Mareth grabs his sword. "Do not forget him." He begs. "Please- do not force him away..." And it turns into a begrudging Ripred opening up to get his point across please don't forget Hamnet... Don't forget your love as I have mine...
It scares Mareth into softening a little towards the rat. Over time, Ripred learns to draw on painfully bittersweet memories for strength and not be so hurt by them. He remembers Hamnet to help him be strong in his new role of being kind and keeping peace. Mareth does the same. And after a LOT of character development, when they're struggling in perilous or terrible situations, they realize that they have not thought of Hamnet once for encouragement, but the other.
"[hazard]'s a nice kid," said gregor. "so was his father," said mareth sadly. Yeah okay there was some faggotry there

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Ohh
Someone had to tell Mareth
He had to learn that Hamnet was alive
But had died again
He had to mourn his friend all over again
Rip Hamnet, you would have loved Sufjan Stevens
Do No Harm.
Mareth x Hamnet Fluff.
Fix It AU, Hamnet and Mareth reconcile their time apart, hamnets return and things left undone. Hamnet is having a hard time reassimilating. Mareth doesn't want to lose him again, and he's quite fond of being in Hazards life. (inspired by the Return to Regalia Podcast Hamareth propaganda episode in which I've been radicalized.)
There's a longer version that leans into a NSFW version of this(in progress) but you know 💅 who's actually checking for Hamnareth out here?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
In the heart of the apothecary, nestled deep within the palace's labyrinthine embrace, the air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the sharp tang of crushed herbs. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world's ceaseless clamor was replaced by the soothing monotony of Hamnet's mortar and pestle. Each motion was precise, a dance of creation as he ground the herbs into a fine paste. For Hamnet, it was perfect. His time in the jungle had afforded him the proper knowledge needed to flourish here. He had to admit he felt thankful for Queen Luxa's appointment. It gave him something to do, some way to help. He noticed it also kept him out of view, his visitors being the occasional nurse or nanny.
"You are good with him," Hamnet said, his voice breaking through the rhythm of his work, carrying a warmth that seemed at odds with the cool, almost clinical atmosphere of the apothecary. The room, despite its embrace of spiced cleanliness, was a stark departure from the dank thickness of the jungle—a world Hamnet's attire stubbornly clung to. His clothes were a riot of colors and patterns that sang of distant lands and untamed wilderness. It was a statement, a declaration of his roots, and a testament to the life he had lived beyond the palace walls, making him stand out against the backdrop of stone and shadow.
Their reunion had been a whirlwind, a collision of past and present brought on by the urgent need for a cure to the plague that had gripped the land. Time, it seemed, had been a luxury they could not afford, swept away by the tide of necessity and duty. But it was during the trial of Solovet, Hamnet's mother, that the walls between them had finally crumbled. A lengthy trip to The Waters and several nights' stay in the hospital seemingly removed a decade of jungle from Hamnet's person. However, it would be impossible to wash away The Garden, to wash away the loss of Frill. That would forever stain.
Now, as Hamnet's gaze settled on Mareth, who carried his son in a piggyback embrace, a semblance of peace seemed to settle over him. Hazard, with his tousled curls obscuring his eyes, slumbered on, oblivious to the weight of history and the burdens of legacy that surrounded them.
"He is fond of you," Hamnet remarked, a simple statement that carried layers of unspoken gratitude and acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between Mareth and his son.
Mareth, pacing the room with a deliberate slowness designed to lull Hazard into deeper sleep, responded with a soft chuckle. "I share in that sentiment. He reminds me quite a bit of you in our youth—how it took us time to get you to open up," he said, his voice a blend of nostalgia and something unidentified. "It seems I find myself chasing that same goal once again."