vibrating stones connoisseur

everlark’s third toastie & jamieclaire’s thirteenth baker’s dozen spoon masterlist

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She Moved Through the Fair

Read on AO3

On the train home from the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss opens up more to Peeta, spurred on by the fear of losing him, and he lets her in as they worm their way into each other's lives. They grow together and face the 75th Hunger Games with the only option that will keep both of them alive. Written for "This Would Have Happened Anyway" Challenge for Winter 2024.

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yello

[thesweetnessofspring]

Given Otho is described as massive by Katniss and Haymitch, but Peeta is once described as "medium height, stocky build" I headcanon that of all the men in his family, he's the smallest. Not that he'd come across that way generally, but by comparison to his brothers and dad, he's the smallest one.

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rip finnick odair you would’ve loved marching down cobblestone steps of the village square with a pitchfork in hand

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Da mi diebus mille

Summary 

Da mi diebus mille. Give me a thousand days.

Claire Beauchamp has just finished nursing school; Jamie Fraser has wanted to stretch his legs outside of his childhood home for quite some time. They both board the same plane heading to Samoa to help with the creation of a new community hospital and to rebuild the village after a tsunami has devastated the area. They sit next to each other on the plane, along with a mischievous boy named Claudel, but things take a turn for the worse (or maybe better) as their plane crashes into the Pacific.

Read on AO3

Keep reading

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Chapter 16: ‘Lost Boy’ is now posted on AO3 !

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Neamhnaid Fola [/Nʲãũnɪdʲ/ /ˈfola/]- Blood Pearl

Summary

“Ye’re a…” The man sat back further on his haunches, careful to still keep a steady grip on her wrists, dumfounded, “lass.”

or in which Claire Beauchamp murders Jamie Fraser's betrothed, Laoghaire MacKenzie, minutes before the wedding.

Read on AO3

Preview

Jamie played with the scratchy ruffles sewed to the cuffs of his sleeves, impatient. It was one thing to be trussed up like one of the chickens on the merchant's cart to and from Leoch, waiting for the metaphorical sword to drop on his neck as his uncles brought news of his “happy” betrothal to their ward Laoghaire MacKenzie. But it was another entirely to be stood up during the very wedding he had vehemently protested until the last second where he was literally dragged to the altar by Rupert MacKenzie (with help from Angus Mhor whose size didn’t contribute much to the threat of force). Dougal’s men didn’t openly handle Jamie now as he stood in company with the priest, free of any bindings, but they did circle him strategically in the crowd, hands at the ready on the hilt of their swords if he dared move even an inch.

He had decided he might just step out of line, to be done with all this bother, and reach an honourable death at the end of a sword, rather than spend his life with a woman he did not love, and would eventually come to despise no doubt, when a stramash started off in the distance, by his bride’s quarters. A dark blue cloak shoved its way through the crowd to the stables seconds later, cleverly analysing the open spaces between people and weaving deftly through the tight mob, leaving behind only confusion in its wake.

“Help!” An otherworldly wailing scraped down the spines of the wedding party. “Somebody help!”

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nightly reblog 🦦

[mollywog]

A small Everlark one-shot based on ‘emergency contact’

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“The fiancé’s here.” Katniss’s eyes flit to the door where a woman in gray scrubs has popped her head into the room. “Can I send him in?”

Katniss furrows her brow before the dull ache in her head forces her to relax it.

The shielded face of the doctor, whose name she’s struggling to recall, looks up from her work several inches from her face. “Sure. I’ll be done here in a minute. Then you can go over the discharge instructions with them.” She looks back down at Katniss almost as an afterthought, “sound good?”

Katniss hums a response that the doctor must take as approval because she nods before returning to her suturing.

She’s not sure what her response was meant to convey, because there’s no fiancé to speak of, nor boyfriend— Hell, it’s been a year since the last thing resembling a date: an awkward lunch out with a coworker who had viewed their turkey sandwiches as more than the lesson planning session she had assumed it to be.

Then again they said she has a mild concussion.

She loses track of the thought as she stares, hypnotized by the pierced nose of the doctor as she completes her task. A rap at the door catches her attention and then, there he is.

Peeta.

His hair is mussed, blue eyes wild, but when he sees her, a relieved smile breaks across his face. “Hey. Sorry it took so long,” he says, grasping her outstretched hand as he moves to stand beside the cot. “—you okay?”

With his warm hand in hers, she releases a breath long trapped in her chest.

“I’m fine. Slipped during third period lab and hit my head. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Of course. And I suppose this scary pool of blood isn’t yours?”

She frowns down at her stained shirt. Well that would be a bitch to get out. “Head wounds always bleed like that. Besides, better me than a student.”

The doctor clears her throat, as she finishes sanitizing her hands, “alright Miss Everdeen. Cecelia will be right back with your discharge papers and you’ll be good to go. Do you have any questions for me?”

With a feeble shake of her head and thanks from Peeta, the doctor leaves.

“How are you here?” Katniss asks, having a clear enough mind to wonder .

“Ms Trinket called— your vice principal right? I was in a meeting without my phone or I’d have been here sooner.”

“Shit,” she winces. “I may have put you down as my emergency contact.” With her sister abroad and her mother living in Florida, she couldn’t think of who else to use besides her roommate. He would be the one most affected if she died and he had to start paying the other half of their rent afterall. And they were friends— well back then more like friendly, but by now they’re real honest-to-God friends— even best friends maybe.

Besides it was all a formality, she’d thought at the time— she hadn’t even mentioned it to him, What were the odds the poorly scrawled number at the bottom of her personnel file would ever even be needed?

But as usual, the odds were not in her favor.

“I’m sorry,” she blinks to hold back the traitorous tears. “And now you're missing work too.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m missing it,” he teases. “But seriously, I’m glad you did. I hate thinking about you here, injured and all alone.”

“I think the concussion helped, it hadn’t really crossed my mind until you got here— by the way, I think the nurse called you my fiancé?”

He ducks his head bashfully, in a way she always finds endearing, “ahh, yeah, I may have embellished a bit up front. I didn’t think they’d let me back here unless I was family. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I think they would have let anyone back at this point.” The nurse had started looking worried about how she was planning on getting home. She briefly imagines being wheeled out of the hospital to an uber and an awkward ride home.

“Well thank God, because if that didn’t work, I was planning on telling them I’m the father of your unborn child.”

A giggle bubbles in her chest and escapes, until she’s laughing, “oh my God, what a mess.” Peeta smiles at her, bemused and concerned. And just like that, her laughter turns hysterical; tears springing to her eyes until she’s sobbing.

She can’t remember the last time she’s cried like this; in front of someone no less. It should be embarrassing, but not with Peeta. Never with Peeta. He scoops her into his arms and she clings to him, reveling in the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything as he rubs her back.

She’s exhausted when she’s eventually cried herself out, but she could cry all over again as she watches Peeta collect her paperwork and nod along to the nurse’s instructions.

She stays awake long enough for him to buckle her into the passenger seat, before drifting to sleep, waking only when they arrive home.

Inside, she grabs a fresh shirt off the top of the laundry: it’s one of Peeta’s old wrestling tees, soft from wear. She slips it over her head and pulls the collar up to her nose to smell his detergent and the faint scent of Peeta that seems to linger no matter how often it’s washed.

Peeta steps momentarily falter at the doorway as he enters her room with a glass of water and Tylenol, reminding her of the pain med schedule before tucking her into bed.

“Do you need anything else?” He says once she’s situated.

‘You,’ she thinks, but she’s still not ready to risk that declaration, especially as she feels the tendrils of sleep pulling her under. Instead, she reaches for his hand, pulling it to her cheek, and closing her eyes. “Stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?”

She doesn’t hear his response, but the dip in the bed is all the answer she needs and she drifts to sleep imagining a day when Peeta might be more than just her emergency contact.

[mage-chocolate]

link to ao3

“Yes”, she grumbles defensively. She places the last blanket over me with a quick pat, then gently pushes me back down.“It helped. Just like resting will.”

Helped me in more ways than one. Nothing feels more Peeta Mellark than narrowly missing the songs of Katniss Everdeen.

5 times Peeta missed Katniss sing, and 1 time he didn't

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Neamhnaid Fola [/Nʲãũnɪdʲ/ /ˈfola/]- Blood Pearl

Summary

“Ye’re a…” The man sat back further on his haunches, careful to still keep a steady grip on her wrists, dumfounded, “lass.”

or in which Claire Beauchamp murders Jamie Fraser's betrothed, Laoghaire MacKenzie, minutes before the wedding.

Read on AO3

Preview

Jamie played with the scratchy ruffles sewed to the cuffs of his sleeves, impatient. It was one thing to be trussed up like one of the chickens on the merchant's cart to and from Leoch, waiting for the metaphorical sword to drop on his neck as his uncles brought news of his “happy” betrothal to their ward Laoghaire MacKenzie. But it was another entirely to be stood up during the very wedding he had vehemently protested until the last second where he was literally dragged to the altar by Rupert MacKenzie (with help from Angus Mhor whose size didn’t contribute much to the threat of force). Dougal’s men didn’t openly handle Jamie now as he stood in company with the priest, free of any bindings, but they did circle him strategically in the crowd, hands at the ready on the hilt of their swords if he dared move even an inch.

He had decided he might just step out of line, to be done with all this bother, and reach an honourable death at the end of a sword, rather than spend his life with a woman he did not love, and would eventually come to despise no doubt, when a stramash started off in the distance, by his bride’s quarters. A dark blue cloak shoved its way through the crowd to the stables seconds later, cleverly analysing the open spaces between people and weaving deftly through the tight mob, leaving behind only confusion in its wake.

“Help!” An otherworldly wailing scraped down the spines of the wedding party. “Somebody help!”

[adsosfraser]

tumblr always makes me want to gatekeep my writing out of spite

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can this ai overview on google krill itself already

[emdapaladima]

into the desert

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I’m a big Claire Fraser murdering people advocate

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wip wednesday

I was tagged by @unnamednarrator & @flyinghome-againstthewind 🫶🫶

But the gaps of dazzling sunlight turned dark with an eclipse. Fergus stared up, jaw wide open as his eyes took in the stomach of a feral hog, flying right above his head. 

tagging: @thelettersfromnoone @thesmileykate @mollywog @atelierlili @thesweetnessofspring @thesunpersists @notsocooljess @saptashati🦦🩷

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everthorne, zutara, and reylo are all the same ship in different fonts

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headcanon that the real reason peeta leaves the windows open when he sleeps is because he’s actually controlled by rats like in ratatouille when he bakes and they leave for their rat home every night like clocking out for a shift and they need easy access to his hair by morning