graham spam

Event 1: A Yummy Competition

Proposed by the lovely @the-winnowing-wind, it’s very simple, over the weekend of the 1st and 2nd of April, prepare and photograph a cake Hannibal would be proud of, post a photo to twitter or tumblr with the hashtag and make sure we can contact you!

To the prize! The winner will receive a Cards Against Hannibal set, designed by myself and not available to buy. You’ll receive the main set plus the Season 3 Expansion Pack. (Word to the wise, this game is for horrible adult fannibals. It has bad words. So if you’re under 18 please double check with guardians and if you win and don’t want the deck, I’m sure we can think of something else from my store.)

If you have any questions about the competition or prize, please ask!

Fireside ( Graham X Achaka )

Requested by lordmeerschweinchen: written by Mod-Manny

He couldn’t breathe.

There was water everywhere, slowing his movements to a crawl. No matter which way Graham jerked, the current dragged him the opposite direction. Even though he couldn’t see very well through the waves, and the way they made his eyes sting, he could still make out the light that flickered over the water’s surface, just out of reach. He was going to drown like this, frightened, stupid, and alone.

And all for what? His hat, of all things. Maybe it wasn’t a complete ridiculous reason–he loved that hat, after all. But dying for it? It was worth a lot to him, but not that much. Not at the cost of his life.

Yet that’s how it’d gone down. The breeze had blown his hat off, tossing it straight onto a branch that hung over the river-side. It hadn’t looked that far away when he’d hopped out onto that stone to reach for it. He’d been right there, not even an inch away from grabbing it, when a wave had suddenly knocked him over, like he was nothing at all. If he made it out of this alive, though Graham was highly doubting such a thing, he’d make sure to work out more. He was never going to die over a silly hat again.

If he didn’t die, right now, of course.

The pressure roared in from all sides, filling his mind with a cacophony that made his head hurt. Everything hurt. It felt like he was being yanked in all directions and dragged down at the same time. Clawing fruitlessly at waves, he kicked down, able to propel himself up for just a moment. He felt air against his fingertips, and went crazy, waving his palms as harshly as he could in an attempt to get somebody’s–anybody’s attention.

Help me! He wanted to scream. Somebody help!

Was there anyone around? It was hard to concentrate while fighting for his life at the same time, but if he wanted to get out this with a shred of dignity ( which he was very close to losing ), he had to think. There were rocks up ahead. If he didn’t knock himself out once he collided with them, then maybe they could act as an anchor. Then he could pull himself up, and start actually calling out for help. There had to be somebody around–with how close he was to the town, it was highly unlikely that these forests weren’t housing some sort of travelers or townspeople! Heck, even the knights hadn’t departed yet for their separate quests–maybe Acorn could help him! Or Whisper! Even Manny had enough smarts to save him!

His palms were slowly slipping back under the water’s surface. Desperate for one last attempt, Graham kicked down again, feeling something hard connect with his leg as he did so. The bottom of the lake pushed back against his boots, sending the tiny male through the waves just for a moment. As he felt his face break through the water, he sucked in a breath, only to let it out again in the loudest scream he could muster. It was a choked cry for help, broken-off as the waves coursed over his lips once again, and the river reached out to drag him back into its depths.

Hopefully that was enough. His arms were growing tired, his eyes heavy. Weakly, Graham tried one last time to reach for the surface. The sun seemed to mock him with its freedom, jeering down as his fingers swiped pitifully for the sky, never quite making it there.

His hands closed around nothing but water, and Graham sighed, allowing himself to sink to the bottom of the lake, where his adventures would finally come to an end, before they’d even started.

…At least, that’s what he’d thought was going to happen.

What he hadn’t counted on was that someone had heard him, and that someone was now dragging him upwards, a fist grasping the front of his shirt, pulling him through the waves as if he was nothing more than a leaf someone was plucking off the water’s edge. It was the second most humiliating thing he’d gone through that day–the first his having been tossed in by just the force of the waves alone. Still, this wasn’t a time to be picky about how he was getting saved, just thankful that he was being.

Gratefully, Graham reached up, clambering into the hold of whoever’s arms were wrapped around him. The hands that were wedged under his arms coiled themselves around his back, grasping him against their frame almost protectively. Frightened from his near death experience, he only returned the gesture, hacking and shivering viciously as the aftermath of the river’s torture on his body came up again in the form of torrents of water shooting from his throat. His nails dug into the rough material that he leaned against, giving him some sort of anchor as he lunged forward, coughing out what felt like an eternity of disgusting, bitter liquid.

After his lungs finally cleared themselves out, he went limp, breathing heavily as he whispered his thanks to whomever was his savior. He waited for the arms to retreat, so that he could look up into the eyes of his rescuer, but they didn’t. Instead, they just tightened, as a soft, deep voice responded to his thanks, letting Graham know just who it was that had saved him.

“Affa Natta.”

Yes? Alright? He wasn’t entirely sure exactly what the words meant, but it was the close enough expression of affirmation that he could link to Achaka’s language. Forcing up a smile, he leaned back, only enough for his line of sight to catch the side of his friend’s helmet. Yep, that was definitely Achaka.

The tiny knight found himself torn between feeling extremely grateful that he’d been saved, and mortified that Achaka had found him flailing around like an idiot.

“Achaka? What’re you doing out here?” It had to be the stupidest choice of words he’d ever come up with under such a strange situation, but it was the first question in his mind. What was he doing out here? He had to meet Acorn at the Test of Strength soon, didn’t he? At least, he had the last time Graham had checked the schedule.

“….” He rolled his eyes. Of course he should have expected silence as an answer. It was Achaka’s specialty after all. And there was no need to dwell on things like that, right? He’d been in trouble, Achaka had saved him–why sweat the small stuff? Speaking of sweating, he was doing the exact opposite.

Being submerged for so long had made him pretty numb to the icy chill of the water, but now that he was back up top again, that icy coldness was slowly settling into his bones. Graham shuddered violently, nearly pitching forward as he curled in on himself, trying desperately to rub some warmth back into his arms. His cape did nothing to help the situation, really only making it worse as it draped over him like a frozen sheet–which it sort of was.

“I…I sh-should probably get back to the village. Find a f-fuh-fireplace or something. Thank you for…uh, sssuh-saving me, Achaka. I really–r-really–,” he jolted again, though this time not from the cold. Almost instantly, he felt himself being lifted for the third time that day. His arms and legs swung out instinctively, only to curl back as he realized Achaka was carrying him. Carrying him.

“Achaka, I’m fuh-fine,” he lied through chattering teeth, trying his best to wriggle out of the vice grip his companion had on his back, his other hand looped under his limp legs. “Really–I can mmmuh-make it back t-to town on my own!”

Both of them could sense the insincerity in his voice, by the way the larger knight didn’t even seem to pause at his words. There was a very small chance that he felt he could even stand at that moment, and with every passing second that he hung from Achaka’s arms, Graham knew that this was probably the best option, no matter how frustrating it was. Groaning to himself, he crossed his arms, trying his best to snuggle into his cape for some attempt at generating heat. It wasn’t working–the wind was just making his wet clothes even colder.

He tried his best to withhold another shiver, only to feel it slip through a moment later, crawling across his shoulders and down his limbs with hardly a warning. Graham trembled, coughing up what felt like a very rough wave of air from his chest. Everything felt soggy and gross. If he didn’t get somewhere warm, soon enough he’d end up getting sick. Knights didn’t get sick–they couldn’t afford to!

The world tilted momentarily, sparking his mind into action. For a minute, Graham panicked, thinking that either he was falling, or that Achaka was dropping him. Only when the sensation of blankets hit from under his folded knees did he understand that what was happening what not an act of violence, nor abandonment, but one of care. Still a bit confused, but ever-thankful, he allowed Achaka’s hands to tug his cape from over his head, freezing for only a moment as they hovered near the hem of his shirt, only to pull away a moment later. The chill the damp fabric had left around him melted away as a much drier, warmer blanket took its place around his shoulders.

Graham sighed and pulled the quilt tight around him, inhaling deeply. It smelled like dirt, burning firewood, and…something else he couldn’t quite place. It was a deep, almost spice-like scent. Exotically floral. Whatever it was, he liked it, inhaling deeper as heat began to pool through his veins again, chasing away the leftover coldness, and bringing life back to his frostbitten feet and fingertips.

When another hand took his, he jumped a bit. He hadn’t even noticed Achaka kneeling next to him, his helmet so close that he could nearly hear the other knight’s breathing, deep and labored, as if he was worried about something. The tinier male gulped, embarrassment washing across his face as his friend turned his palms over, tracing the skin of his hands gently with metal fingers.

“Every–everything okay?” He joked in a small voice, only to squeak when the other’s hand suddenly wrapped itself around his wrist, pulling him into an embrace he had not been prepared for. For a moment he wiggled in discomfort. Only when he felt a hand at the back of his neck, squeezing gently, did he relax, knowing that the gesture was anything but malicious. “Yeah, it’s alright. I’m alright. …Thank you, Achaka.”

The pressure of a head against his shoulder let him know that he’d been heard. Leaning against the larger knight’s chest, Graham allowed his exhaustion to steal him away, knowing that now, with Achaka at his side, he’d be safe.

No more trying to cross dangerous rivers.

And…he’d probably just have to get a new hat.

3

Figured I’d make a solo version of Will from here, and a parallel version (aka the ‘new/cool/badass look’).

Stickers (and other things) for new tiny!Will are here:

Murder Husbands Shirt is over here:

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tumblee-things said:Hello! I adore your art. More Tiny!Will, please. : )