#faebruary 2022

[megamoth]

Leftover Faebruary designs, first five:

Daffodil, Red Hot Poker (Kniphofia), Sunflower, Daisy, Dahlia

[simmancy]

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[sweetcherrysims]

Faebuary Flower Fairy "Cherry" :) for

@incandescentsims

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔉𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[jaquis-desolate-world]

https://youtu.be/av6iEzdyUVw

Faebruary Day 4 - Reve Faucher, the Fauchereve

What does Reve do when he's not making chaos happen in Dreamtalia? Has anyone ever seen him outside of Kyokoon64? I sure have. Lol. Such a puppy is he!

Reve is a character of @kyokyo866 , @reapingdreamer​

Progress vid.

[cauti0us3lis]

𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵

forgot to save a bonus screenie lol

[sims-of-us]

🌸Flower

[seasicksims]

if you say run | i'll run with you |

and if you say hide | we'll hide

because my love for you | would break my heart in two

dance | @incandescentsims | Faebruary

[queenrhenpendragon]

Faebruary 3 - Ice

He was no stranger to the cold. He had grown up in a kingdom bereft of its princess, raised on bitter mourning and icy despair. Before he had even grown into his magic, his father had traded him away to the princess’s kidnapper for secondhand armor. The callous look on his father’s face as he’d struck the deal had been most chilling not because it was new, but because it was familiar. His mother’s miserable acquiescence was as much expected as it was a betrayal. A fairy’s word is binding, and Dameon was the true traitor for running away.

He had always known the beetle would catch him eventually. After all the cold he was raised in it was only fitting he was now encased in ice, trapped in the beetle’s keep, helplessly awaiting the day he would melt and his wings would be cut off.

He hoped she had run. He hoped the princess– and she was the princess, he was sure of it, after all that had happened with the mouse, the mole, the bird, and the butterfly– he hoped she was far, far away, somewhere spring had already come. Somewhere bright and blooming and beautiful, somewhere the ice would never reach. Somewhere the beetle would never find her. Somewhere the treachery and cowardice of the fairy court would never touch her. He hoped she was happy.

He didn’t dare hope to see her again.

But he did. She strode in with her needle flashing, the green blood of the beetle dripping from it. She cleaned it on her skirt, and reached up to sheath it, and she tossed her braid over her shoulder as she did it and he realized, first, that he loved her.

He loved her, and second, she had come to rescue him, and he felt warmth blooming in his chest, and there was not a depth of cold in Aia that could keep him from melting.