#the idea that of all people she’d actually get along with gale because of his fun little weave tapestries…. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 5 months ago

Text

Heart of the Weave - chapter 23

Gale walks into the bathroom, standing behind me with Jenevelle in his arms, and observing me for a moment with a puzzled expression on his face. What has him concerned? I confidently stare at myself in the mirror, worries erased from my mind and feeling more than content all around. I pull my thick, curly brown hair down from a messy bun and let it bounce freely just above my shoulders.

“Is everything alright, my beautiful wife?” he questions, then kisses the top of my head, under the impression that something could be bothering me. I smile wholeheartedly and turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his torso as I lean my head on his chest.

“I’ve never been better.” He brushes my messy bangs out of my face with his free hand, staring into my eyes. It was then he realized I meant every word, and he proceeded to smile back at me. What story do my eyes tell, I wonder?

“Good. I have a ‘turn up for the books’ for you, once you’re finished giving Shadowheart her gift basket. Once you get home, get ready for a spectacular surprise ahead this evening.” Oh goodness, what could be in store for us tonight? Gale is very spontaneous, and I wish I could be more like that. I keep telling myself I will.

“A surprise? What for?” I ask, pretending to be shocked as if my birthday isn’t next week. He rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head.

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” I shrug and playfully pout, though he knows I hate surprises so he probably believes I’m serious. “How about we all go visit Shadowheart and Astarion together? I’m sure she’d love to see Jenevelle.” My face lights up, because I also realize this means Jenevelle will get to see another baby, though who knows how she will react?

“Great idea. Plus, I’m sure Shadowheart needs some adult interaction that isn’t Astarion. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the guy, but I’m sure these past few days she’s been needing some time…outside of that. The adjustment is tough I’m sure. Wait, you want to see Astarion don’t you?” Gale and Astarion have become rather great friends and recently, Astarion will come over to hang out every now and then. Safe to say they actually hang out and get along. Gale never really had many friends – if any at all – so it’s nice to see them get close. Plus, he’s been giving Astarion parenting advice, though with Jenevelle not being able to age, he won’t be able to assist when their kid gets older.

“Hey now, it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to want time with good acquaintances every now and then. It’s of the essence that I partake in social interactions with others, though years ago I’d laugh if someone told me a close acquaintance would be a vampire.”

“Acquaintances?” He chuckles and rubs my back gently.

“Fine, fine. We’re good friends.”

After a while, we finally left the tower to bring over the gift basket I had made, and to socialize with our friends. The stroll through Waterdeep is so calm and unnerving, and there’s so many reasons why: the vibrant summer flowers on every corner, the scents of fruits and vegetables overwhelming our senses, and the quiet chatter of people sitting outside the library. We stop by my favorite herbal tea shop and I get a delicious dandelion tea with honey, and nobody makes it better than they do.

Shortly after walking away from the tea shop and continuing our walk toward Shadowheart and Astarion’s cottage, I hear a loud and easily recognizable voice in the distance and, surprise, it’s Karlach. I know we don’t live far from each other at all, but it manages to surprise me regardless each time I run into her. I guess it’s still an adjustment.

“Emmy! Gale! Miniature Dekarios! How are my favorite immortal humans?” she says ecstatically, her arm wrapped around Wyll’s as they’re strutting through town. They both look rather happy, and it seems they’re just strolling through the city casually.

“Well, fancy seeing you here!” I exclaim. “I’d hug you but Jenevelle is wrapped in her little…well, baby wrap. Anyway, we’re doing well. We’re on our way to visit Shadowheart and her new baby. Oh, and Astarion of course. I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

“Listen, I may not be having kids ever, but I do get to live vicariously through my favorite people. Don’t let Wyll’s father hear me saying that.”

True. Who knew they’d find a forge in Avernus to fix Karlach’s ‘heart’? Who knew Wyll would sell his soul to fight for the Hells and save Karlach’s life by bringing her with him? Their lives sure have a lot of stories, ones needing to be told to the world. Hopefully they do end up telling the Duke grandchildren probably won’t happen for him. It seems they just want to live their life without kids, and that’s totally reasonable as it is.

“Say, Gale, are Wyll and I still coming by tonight to watch little Jenevelle? If so, I’m PUMPED!”

“Wait, huh?” My tone is full of confusion, as it should be. I knew Gale had a surprise for me, but didn’t realize we’d be leaving Jenevelle at home with our friends. I thought it would be a family outing, but I’m not complaining either way.

“Baby, that…was supposed to be a surprise,” Wyll reminds her, followed by a sigh. “Good gravy.”

“Fuck! I forgot! You know, eventually I’ll have a higher intelligence one of these days. Well, probably not.” Gale sighs and rolls his eyes, but smiles at her in forgiveness. We all know how she is, and we all love her anyway. What would life be like without her?

“Don’t sweat it, Karlach. Sometimes, the mind likes to wander off and leave behind crucial information. We all go through it,” Gale mutters with a soft tone, still smiling. Gods, I love this man.

“Why do I feel like that was a shot at my horrible memory?”

“I assure you, it was not. Now, I’ll see you both tonight. I appreciate you attending to watch our little one. You truly are one of the most reliable people we’ve ever met. For that, I thank you. Truly.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. I will snag these opportunities any chance I get.”

Wyll and Karlach take occasional breaks from Avernus; in fact, I’m not even sure when they went last. I also haven’t heard Wyll talk about Mizora in a long time, but I’m sure I’m just overthinking it. It’s worth asking about at some point.

We finally make it to Shadowheart and Astarion’s house after a nice long strut through the beauties of Waterdeep. Their cottage is a little further away from civilization, but the small journey was worth it. Also, I can’t exactly blame them for wanting to stay away from people, especially Astarion.

“Come on in, you two!” Shadowheart seems beyond thrilled that we’re here, and I can’t say I wouldn’t feel the same way. After having a baby, I wanted social interaction so badly; Shadowheart was one of the first to come through and get me through the loneliness while Gale was at the Academy. We step into her cozy, lovely home, and I immediately notice the insane amount of plants that take up an entire room in one part of their home. Astarion approaches us, holding their tiny little elf baby who appears to be sleeping. He has thick strawberry blonde hair and pale skin; you’d think he’s their biological child.

“Ah, if it isn’t our dearest friends. I know what everyone is thinking: ‘Astarion, your hair is a mess! When was the last time you groomed it?’ I’ll have you know, I haven’t exactly had time to maintain this luscious mane.” Gale and I chuckle, but understand exactly what he means.

“That sounds about right. Do not fret, my friend, you look fine,” I comment. “Besides, you should have seen Gale’s hair the first couple weeks.”

“Well, that’s comforting at least. You know, I never once visualized myself as a dad. The thought of children terrified me. Disgusted me. Then, when I saw you two have your baby, something…changed. It’s like a switch was turned on or something… Ask Gale. We talked all about this a few weeks ago. He talked me through the nerves and…well, it isn’t so bad. I love the little spawn.”

“It doesn’t help that the adoption was so last minute. I always wanted children, but never had a plan. The opportunity presented itself unexpectedly. Needless to say, we’re so happy, and at first we were both so afraid,” Shadowheart adds. It seems they really are happy. They stare at each other amorously, then simultaneously look at their sleeping child. He’s so tiny. I handed her the gift basket I had made for them that contained a little quilted blanket, a mini crochet owlbear, a few clothed diapers, a rattle, and some bibs. “Emmy, this…is amazing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” I can see deep within her green eyes the sincere gratitude and love. What can I say? She’s one of my best friends; I don’t even remember the friends I used to have growing up, if I even had any.

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad to have done this.”

We enjoy the following hour or so just sitting outside and enjoying a few cups of tea. Astarion and Gale catch up, and they’re showing the babies off to each other. Jenevelle seems rather confused, but a little happy nonetheless. The other baby is a little too new to understand what’s going on, but he seems like an easy going child. Shadowheart asked me for tips on several topics, which I could only assist with so much considering Jenevelle is forever a three-month-old immortal baby.

As we all watch the sun begin to set, radiating a glorious apricot aura, I begin to think how life really is so incredible, and it’s even better having company to enjoy it with.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #ao3 #archive of our own #wizard of waterdeep

7 notes · View notes

peetapiepita · 2 years ago

Text

Katniss Everdeen and her complex links to cats

Never thought I’d write an entire essay on Katniss and cats, but here we are.

I got this idea from the fact that the male lead of my other favorite series His Dark Materials, Will Parry, has a cat Daemon. (It basically means his soul takes on the form of a cat and I think it might be the same case with Katniss.) He was compared to and linked to cats throughout the story. The same goes for Katniss and she has such a cat-like personality when you think about it.

I also got inspired by a stray cat who suddenly scratched me lightly when I was playing with it. It was getting along with me so well, but scratched me with absolutely no warning and got back to being friendly and purring in an instant. That reminded me of Katniss.

We all know how Katniss hates cats and cat-like creatures, specifically Buttercup and the lynx who was following her around the woods. They both had complex relationships with her as well. Buttercup had a reason to distrust her, yet they were the only ones who could really feel the loss of Prim the same way, so Katniss found comfort in Buttercup at the end of Mockingjay. The lynx was trusting Katniss for no reason and she was conflicted about it because she’s protective in nature and she hated she had to hurt it, but she did it for survival anyway.

This is true of Katniss’ relationship with herself in a way. She tries not to argue for herself ever and lists all her imperfections constantly.

Of course, her relationships with cat-like creatures is not the only thing linking her to cats. She has a very cat-like personality, especially when she interacts with Peeta.

People familiar with cats would tell you that with most cats, even when they act like they don’t give a shit about you and even avoid you, they actually take notice of the humans around them and when you’re kind to them, they’re drawn to you by default. They may try to act indifferent, but it shows.

It’s exactly how Katniss is in her relationship with Peeta. She tries so hard to convince herself that she isn’t drawn to him and doesn’t need him. But when she’s at her most vulnerable, she trusts him and wants him around.

For instance, when she hurts her ankle in Catching Fire, she trusts Peeta to understand what happened and leans on him for support. He in turn delivers a brilliant performance for the peacekeeper and understands that Katniss was hurt while the others are oblivious, even her family. When she’s under the influence of sleep syrup and at her most vulnerable, she’s finally willing to admit she wants Peeta to stay and hold her, even when moments earlier, she was like, I choose the rebellion and Gale. And when they’re on the train to the Quarter Quell, she finally lets herself get loose and initiates an intimate hug. She doesn’t want to let go and is annoyed when they’re interrupted. She’s practically purring when touched by Peeta because she feels safe with him. That’s so cat-like.

These are so cat behaviour to me. It also makes sense that I see a lot writers giving Katniss lines like “I’m not good with words, I work better with actions.” Yes, she’s like that and that’s very cat-like. And with cat-like people, when they get attached to someone, they don’t let go. This is also part of why Will reminded me of Katniss. He literally goes through a bunch of worlds in search of Lyra after losing her. Katniss is like that with Peeta. When she loses him, she’s inconsolable. She’d do anything to get him back.

Last but not the least, Katniss’ name is also very similar to “cat”. I’ve seen quite a few people’s head canons with other character nicknaming her “Kat”. Once you make the connection, you can’t unsee it.

#Will and Katniss have A LOT more in common actually #Peeta and Lyra also have a lot in common #that's probably why these two ships both have me in a chokehold #I'll post about the other things in the future #hunger games #the hunger games #thg #everlark #peeta mallark #katniss everdeen #his dark materials #hdm #will parry #thg meta

77 notes · View notes

pocketseizure · 4 years ago

Text

A Noble Pursuit

None of the lessons from the Gerudo Classroom have prepared Rhondson for married life with Hudson, who has grown restless and disappeared from Tarrey Town a year after its founding. She travels to the Akkala Citadel Ruins to hunt for her husband while reflecting on the bridges that will need to be rebuilt in order for Hyrule to embrace a peaceful future.

This story about archaeology, castles, ruins, cultural differences, giant monster friends, and what it means “to live happily ever after” was written for @memorabiliazine, and it’s also on AO3 (here). The accompanying illustrations are by the stylish scholar @pocketwei.

. . . . . . . . . .

This wasn’t the first time Rhondson had set off on a husband hunt.

It was late summer, almost a year after the ghost of the Great Calamity vanished from the castle. Most of Hyrule was still green, but the first touches of red and gold had already begun to appear on the trees of Akkala. It was chilly when Rhondson left Tarrey Town, but the morning fog had lifted and the sky was crystal clear.

Rhondson had always enjoyed mornings. Most people woke up early in the desert and took a nap during the worst heat of the afternoon so that they could stay up late into the evening. Rhondson kept the same schedule in Tarrey Town, a practice that Hudson found inexplicably upsetting. He complained, almost every day now, that she never went to bed with him. He insisted that a man and his wife should fall asleep together. Rhondson explained that she enjoyed sewing by lamplight at night, when the world is quiet and even the plainest thread shines like gold, but he refused to understand.

Hudson had recently grown restless. Perhaps it was because of the tension in their relationship, or perhaps it was only the change of season, but he left Tarrey Town one afternoon and never returned. Ashai’s classes hadn’t prepared Rhondson for this. They’d talked so much about how to catch a man, but never about how to keep him. She wondered if other vai had the same problem. All of the romances she read when she was younger ended with a “happily ever after,” but what was supposed to happen the next day? And the day after that?

All things considered, Rhondson was content with her life in Tarrey Town. Her feelings about the settlement had been ambiguous at first. The location was out-of-the-way, to say the least, but the town received more visitors than she’d expected. The son of the two Sheikah researchers who lived in an old lighthouse up on the northern cliffs made his living as a traveling merchant of fine clothing, and he saw to it that Rhondson always had work. Tarrey Town was unique in its appeal as a marketplace for goods from all over Hyrule, and Hudson’s brightly painted modular houses had become something of a tourist attraction. He’d been flooded with orders for summer rental homes, and a satellite community had sprung up on the other side of the bridge to satisfy the demand.

Hudson managed to keep himself busy, but he seemed to harbor doubts about establishing Tarrey Town on such a small island. To make matters worse, many of the people who’d come to town for the summer were starting to drift away as the days became shorter. Perhaps they were worried about Akkala’s infamous autumn thunderstorms. Rhondson happened to enjoy the heavy rains, whose gale winds and lightning crashes reminded her of the sandstorms back home, but she understood how the violent weather and sudden drop in temperature might put off people who weren’t accustomed to the climate. She’d camped at more than a few oasis waystations during her travels, and she knew it was perfectly natural for the population of a place like Tarrey Town to wax and wane with the season.

Rhondson tried to explain to Hudson how it was normal for people to come and go. Many of the town residents were nomadic by nature, she said, and they had no excuse not to indulge their wanderlust now that it was safe to travel. Hudson adamantly refused to listen. He insisted that a man’s home was his castle. But why not have two castles, Rhondson objected. And people would come back next summer, she reasoned. They’d had to hire new workers to perform upkeep on the vacation homes during the winter, after all, so it wasn’t as though the population was shrinking. If he was feeling ambitious, she added with a wink, they might be able to add their own contribution to the town’s population.

“I’m just not sure how long this town will last,” Hudson replied, ending the conversation with a sigh.

His admission put Rhondson ill at ease, and she couldn’t help recalling Hudson’s anxiety when she realized that he hadn’t come home during the night. “Sometimes you have to treat voe like children,” Ashai had once explained. “There will be times when they take action without thinking about how it will affect you, but it’s likely that their behavior comes from simple thoughtlessness, not spite.” Rhondson didn’t know about that. She’d met enough silly and immature vai in her life to understand that voe didn’t have a monopoly on being pigheaded. Still, if Hudson had gone out and gotten himself lost, purposefully or otherwise, she might as well go find him.

Rhondson set out from Tarrey Town and walked due south, pacing herself as she made her way up the gentle slope of the hills leading to Upland Zorana. Once the mountains began in earnest, she turned west at the road leading to the old stone quarry and kept going until she could see the waterfalls at the source of Lake Akkala.

She’d crossed the Sokkala Bridges when she first came to Tarrey Town instead of taking the longer road to the north, and she was just as impressed by them now as she was then. The log bridges were simple structures, really, not much more than planks laid over support pillars embedded in the banks of the rivulets flowing from the waterfall basin, but they were sturdy and well-constructed. A traveler could cross them with ease, secure enough in their footing to look up and appreciate the rainbows that danced in the misty spray of the waterfalls.

Not every bridge needed to be the Bridge of Hylia, Rhondson thought. Perhaps it was better if most bridges weren’t, in fact. The Bridge of Hylia was a magnificent piece of work, to be sure, but it seemed as though it was already in a state of disrepair even before the Great Calamity. Judging from the conversations between Hudson and his former boss Bolson, no living stonemason had any idea how to repair its gargantuan supports. Meanwhile, more modest structures like the Sokkala Bridges could be maintained whenever the need arose. In their own way, the Sokkala Bridges were just as important at the Bridge of Hylia, even if they never became monuments.

As she crossed the final bridge, Rhondson could see the hazy outline of Akkala Citadel rising in the west. Its massive size was impressive, but she couldn’t imagine it being particularly beneficial to anyone. Truth be told, the ruins weren’t much more than a glorified pile of old stone bricks that could almost certainly be put to better use elsewhere. Speaking of which, Rhondson was starting to get an inkling of where Hudson might have gotten himself off to. “A man’s home is his castle,” he liked to say, and how intriguing it must have been to have an actual castle so close to home, especially if its materials could be repurposed.

Rhondson headed north when the road forked and made her way across the old high bridge over the river, carefully navigating the deep fissures in the stone. Once she was safely on the other side, she began climbing the winding path up the mountain.

The leaves of the trees on the upper slopes of the hill had already turned a bold shade of crimson, and the weathered steel of the Sheikah Tower gleamed in the sun. Rumor had it that the citadel used to be patrolled by Guardians, but nothing confronted Rhondson save for a few moss-covered remnants of ceramic casing. Parts of the road had been washed away in a landslide, probably after the Malice swamp dried up, but the majority of the paving stones were still intact.

Rhondson entered the gatehouse at the foot of the outer wall surrounding the citadel. The inside was littered with rubble from a century-old battle, and the remains of more recent Bokoblin campfires were scattered across the floor. A partially overturned Guardian occupied a corner of the room, its segmented legs folded neatly underneath its casing like the paws of a sleeping cat. When she first set out from the desert, Rhondson had been terrified of encountering a Guardian, but she’d grown fond of the broken bits and pieces of their chassis that had been left beside Hyrule’s roads to remind travelers to remain vigilant. Their round faces and decoratively textured bodies were actually a bit cute, like oversized toys.

Rhondson passed through the gatehouse and entered a small courtyard. The walls of the citadel rose on every side of the open space, but the gaps between turrets were wide enough for the sun to shine through and warm the paving stones. One side of the courtyard was dominated by a large alcove that was probably used to shelter horses. The bare soil under the dilapidated wooden awning was covered in pale green scrub bush and dotted with bright yellow wildflowers.

A covered walkway ran along the opposite wall, connecting the gatehouse to the larger body of the citadel. As Rhondson followed the shaded path, she imagined how heavily the snowfall would accumulate at this altitude. She didn’t envy the soldiers tasked with shoveling duty. She glanced at the enormous wooden door that marked the entrance to the main hall, but its iron fittings were orange with rust. Thankfully, the smaller door at the end of the walkway was barely hanging by its hinges, and Rhondson had no trouble pushing it open.

She called Hudson’s name into the shadows of the citadel. Aside from the echo of her own voice, there was no answer. It probably wasn’t safe to go inside, but she had already come so far. Rhondson figured that she may as well make sure that Hudson wasn’t here before she left.

The interior of the fortress wasn’t nearly as impressive as its silhouette. The entryway was much smaller than she expected, and the floor was made of packed earth. As Rhondson’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see that the wooden beams of the ceiling were exposed. They were dark with ash. The smoke had probably come from the tall braziers secured to the pillars set into the stone walls.

Rhondson walked across the hall, glancing around her with interest. A few piles of old leaves moldered just inside the open service door, but the room was remarkably clean. The tapestries displayed in the bays between pillars still retained some of their color, and wooden weapons racks still clung to the stone walls next to the main gate. Rhondson realized that the earth floor must absorb the humidity of summer and the chill of winter, keeping the wood and cloth relatively preserved. The layer of ash coating the wooden beams of the ceiling probably helped protect them from the elements as well.

Large passageways ringed with shallow arches connected the central hall to the east and west wings, but Rhondson was more interested in a spiral staircase carved into the back wall. Although she had to bend her head to enter, the stairs bore her weight. Each step dipped slightly toward the middle from centuries of use. As she climbed to the next floor, Rhondson was amused by the thought of walking in the footsteps of people who had lived so long ago.

The room above was much smaller than the citadel’s entrance, but its ceiling was almost as high. The walls were constructed of the same unpainted white limestone as the fortress exterior. Their rough surfaces were irregularly broken by small rectangular windows positioned slightly above eye level. Some of the glass panes were missing, allowing a cool breeze to enter the bright and sun-warmed space, but the floorboards were level and seemed solid enough

Rhondson began to make her way from room to room. Her first thought was that the haphazard layout was due to poor planning, but she gradually realized that different parts of the Akkala Citadel must have been built at different times, more than likely after various battles. Very few furnishings remained in the deserted fortress, but the architecture differed so drastically between rooms that it was clear she was walking through different periods of history. Rhondson was amazed by the evolution of the windows, which became larger and more ornate as she walked. She imagined that this was what Hyrule Castle must look like, an amalgamation of architectural styles that had grown and transformed along with the kingdom itself.

Rhondson enjoyed her stroll through the ruins, but Hudson was nowhere to be found. The sun was already low in the sky, so she made her way outside and began her descent. From her vantage point at the top of the path, she could see a flat patch of land at the base of the hill. The soldiers stationed here must have used it as a parade ground for exercise and training. It would be as good a place as any to make camp.

Dusk had begun to gather by the time she arrived on the field, and the shadows lay long across the tall grass. Rhondson didn’t see the Hinox immediately, but she could smell it. The odor wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unmistakable. As soon as she realized that she wasn’t alone, Rhondson turned to leave. Most Hinoxes tended to ignore the travelers that wandered into their vicinity, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Without warning, the Hinox bellowed. Its scream sent startled birds up from the nearby trees in a rush of beating wings and angry squawking. Rhondson prepared herself to make a run for her life, but she was stopped in her tracks by a voice she would recognize anywhere.

“Don’t cry, you big baby. It only stings at first. You’ll feel better in two shakes of a blupee’s tail.”

Rhondson shook her head with amusement as she walked across the field toward the source of the voice. The Hinox pouted at her, giant tears spilling from its eye.

“Hudson?”

The broad-shouldered man crouching beside the Hinox jerked his head up. “Rhondson? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I came looking for you. Is this where you’ve been this whole time?”

“I meant to come back last night,” Hudson replied, averting his eyes. “But this oaf hurt his foot while helping me clear away the rubble on the path up the mountain, and I couldn’t just leave him like this. The wound would have suppurated, and he’s all alone out here.”

Rhondson gave the Hinox a closer look and saw that it – he – had a deep gash on his heel. Hudson was cleaning it with a balled-up wad of fabric. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the first workshirt she’d sewn for him. She’d made it just as they were starting to get to know one another, before she knew his measurements, and it fit him poorly. She asked him to throw it away and bury it with the compost months ago, but he’d apparently kept it. Hudson was surprisingly sentimental for a man who insisted on utility over decoration. It was one of the things she liked about him.

Rhondson smiled as she shrugged her pack onto the ground and dug out a jar of safflina salve. As Hudson helped her dress the Hinox’s wound, he explained that he had indeed come here to assess the state of the stonework. He assumed the citadel would be in ruins, but the structure was still sound. It would be a shame to dismantle it. With a few minor renovations, it would be almost as good as new. Still, making it more habitable would mean reducing its efficacy as a fortress.

“But what does that matter?” Rhondson asked. “Who’s going to attack it?”

“There are monsters roaming about, and…”

“Does this ‘monster’ look like he’s going to attack anyone?”

The Hinox had fallen asleep as they talked and was snoring lightly.

“He’s not a monster,” Hudson replied with a frown.

“Exactly. It seems to me that you’re already thinking about hiring him to work for you.”

“I’m not… Well, I guess I am. Having a Hinox around would be useful, especially if I decide to fix up this place, but we’d have to knock down some of the interior walls to make more room for him.”

Rhondson winced as she remembered all the times she’d banged her forehead on Hylian doorways. Now that she thought about it, there was no reason for those doors to be so low in the first place, especially not when her husband could so easily make them more accommodating. “Weren’t you planning to knock down the walls anyway?” she pointed out. “You could use the materials to repair the bridge.”

“But it’s disrespectful not to honor the past,” Hudson objected. “Shouldn’t the history of the Akkala Citadel be preserved?”

“It’s in ruins.” Rhondson put a hand on his shoulder. “One day you’ll have to come with me to visit my family. Everything in Gerudo Town is built on top of history. Nothing gets done if you worry about preserving the past as it once was. Living things change, and that includes old castles like this.”

“Maybe it includes towns too,” Hudson replied. “I guess it won’t be so bad if Tarrey Town grows. We could have a sister city maybe, right here on this hill. It would be a convenient waystation for travelers.” He thought for a moment. “And a good place for Hinoxes, too. It’s built on their scale, at least, and they’re all over Akkala. It’s a shame they always have to sleep in the open. Besides, Mason looks like he could use a friend. He’ll be lonely without me.”

Mason? Rhondson grinned at the name her husband had assigned to the Hinox. “Are you going to bring him home, then?” she asked.

“Home is wherever you are, Rhondson. We’ll go wherever you like. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but we can spend a night or two away from Tarrey Town. I’d like to go back to the citadel tomorrow morning. I don’t think anyone has been inside this place for at least a hundred years.”

The sun had finally set, and stars were beginning to shine in the deepening indigo of the twilight sky. Rhondson smiled as she pictured the castle on the hill once again filled with lights. There was a certain charm to speculating on what the past might have been like, but the future held much more potential for imagination.

#Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #Rhondson #Gerudo culture #Memorabilia zine #pocketwei #architecture #ruins #Zelda zines #Zelda art #Zelda fic #my fic

65 notes · View notes

captainseaweedbrains · 4 years ago

Text

The Hunger Games Again Ch. 6 Thoughts

I am chugging through finally! Here are my rambling thoughts on chapter 6:

I remember our Carson’s had a see-through elevator in it and I used to *love* going up and down it as a child. This just reminds me how young and pure Katniss is wanting to ride the elevator again.

She and Haymitch will be overseeing us right into the arena. In a way, that's a plus because at least she can be counted on to corral us around to places on time whereas we haven't seen Haymitch since he agreed to help us on the train.// I am just imagining these two wandering aimlessly if they were just left in Haymitch’s charge and have a little chuckle

Effie knows everyone who's anyone in the Capitol and has been talking us up all day, trying to win us sponsors.

"I've been very mysterious, though," she says, her eyes squint half shut. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district." // Similar to the prep team, I cannot help but love her because Effie is just so tone deaf to how she comes off. It's funny.

what's she basing our success on? Our table manners? // You absolutely know she is, Katniss

I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie beams at us so brilliantly that we have no choice but to respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though it's wrong. // It’s stuff like this that endears me and everyone just goes along even though they’re like “wtf. No, idiot.” *wipes tear* You’re so stupid, Effie. I love you.

"But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary." // It is with a curling wand and she is lethal with it

Yo. Sign me up for this instant dryer and hair detangler. I need that NOW.

A meal presided over by just Effie and Haymitch is bound to be a disaster. // I would pay to see it. And they totally do after the war Yes I am a Haffie shipper Don’t @ me

Katniss, you are not wrong. Sweet wine is the best.

Haymitch showing up right as the food is coming out is my kind of style. No, I don’t want to socialize. I am here to eat and I need to make that as clear as possible.

I wonder who’s the unfortunate soul who is stuck cleaning Haymitch up. Do you get paid enough for such a task? Probably not

Last time I mention it, but ughhhhhhhh with the food descriptions.

Katniss’ reaction to seeing Lavinia warms my heart for whatever reason and then I get sad because it’s connected to sadness

Peeta coming to Katniss’ slightly drunk rescue...What a saint.

WHAT DID DELLY EVER DO TO YOU, KATNISS? Calling her LUMPY? Part of me wonders, because clearly Peeta is close to Delly as childhood friends and the fact he thinks of her right away despite the two girls looking nothing alike, if there is a tiny itsy bitsy part of Katniss that is jealous of her. Maybe not so much because Delly and Peeta are close (though perhaps…), but I imagine Delly can easily thank people and talk to people and Katniss, bless her caring heart, does not have that natural skill. So there’s bitterness there and Katniss turns that bitterness into unfair slander on my girl. SLANDER.

Again, can we just talk about how these two work so well as a team? Picking up easily where the other leaves off? Amazing. Brilliant. We stan.

I still have many thoughts on Cinna and the hand holding. Clearly he was working with the rebellion and they were waiting for the right match to set it going. Maybe Cinna was just wiggling his way in and more like opportunity came a knocking?

When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.//Peeta, your popular jock boy self is showing.

Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.// I know you don’t fully trust him, Katniss, but your subconscious seems to disagree with you if you’re willing to share anything with him.

I really enjoy how SC does this. She distracts us with the flash and glamor and then swiftly reminds us of the horrors that is Panem and the whole reason Peeta and Katniss are here. So similar to how we handle information today and how the news and government try to change our focus to other things to hide from the big, scary picture.

*cries because they read each other so well and pick up meaning behind what the other is actually saying*

You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance here. // They are, no worries

Lmao at it just being such an obvious thing that Katniss and her dad hunt(ed). I know the Mellarks trade(d) with them, but still funny. The not-so secret of the district

There was a moment, after the bird call, but before the hovercraft, where the girl had seen us. She'd locked eyes with me and called out for help.// I love when Katniss tells stories of her past. It’s so haunting and somber. Very clear to picture, and the obvious guilt she feels here. Gets me every time.

Peeta takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I start to take a step back, but then I let him, deciding for a moment to accept both his jacket and his kindness. A friend would do that, right? // *weeps* Peeta is such a good egg. A true gentleman. Yes, Katniss, accept his kindness.

HOLD THE FRONT DOOR. He *buttons* the coat? Peeta is really going all “Last few days of life. We’re just going for it.”

The 1950s vibe of giving the girlfriend the letterman jacket I feel in this Chile’s tonight

And now begins Terri’s frequent comment about how Peeta Mellark is a rebellious boy by nature and does not get the credit he deserves by helping set the building blocks for Katniss later on in the book/series

Sldkmflm PEETA, YOU ARE SO OBVIOUS. Asking about Gale all ~casually. iS He yoUr CoUsIN??? As if you don’t know.

Peeta is a really good liar, yes, Katniss. but he would never lie to you

I find it interesting that Peeta flat out says Mr. M probably wanted a daughter, yet in fandom, it’s Mrs. M.. Interesting.

The idea that I might ever have been discussed, around the dinner table, at the bakery fire, just in passing in Peeta's house gives me a start. It must have been when the mother was out of the room.// Now all I’m imagining is Peeta talking about Katniss to Delly, his confidant, and her just patting his head.

It seems impolite to say she never mentioned the baker except to compliment his bread // Dang, Mrs. E.. Show us how you truly feel.

We're at my door. I give back his jacket. "See you in the morning then."

"See you," he says, and walks off down the hall.//

I know Katniss is going through A Lot right now, but child, pick up your clothes before you shower.

At least she apologizes.

But still.

You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope. // Honestly, one of the best lines of the whole series. Fight me on that, but it’s so true.

I wonder if Katniss has anxiety with how her thought process goes with the guilt and her feeling like she’s not good enough, etc..

On to the next chapter!

#The Hunger Games #thgagain #The Hunger Games Again #Terri reads The Hunger Games #My thoughts #I have feelings

27 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

Text

Okay, here we go! Imma do my liveblog of The Hunger Games, Chapter One, for #THGagain :

I’ll put my thoughts underneath the cut so I don’t clog up the dash 🥳

Okay but right off the bat, Katniss says her mattress cover is rough 🥺. I don’t know, this just made me sad all of a sudden.

So okay, but the fact that Prim had a bad dream and climbed in with their mother? I don’t know if that indicates that Prim still sees their mother as a source of comfort whereas Katniss can’t let herself feel the same way or if it’s just because she didn’t want to wake Katniss.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that Prim is too naive to understand that their mother is mentally fragile? Since in Mockingjay, she says “I know there’s only so much mother can hear,” or something like that, as a way to prove she’s not a little kid anymore sooo. I don’t know. Just some thoughts.

Katniss is shady towards mama right off the bat 🤣. Katniss is shady no matter what though. It’s what makes her narration sound like a teenage girl.

If Katniss is so anti-social though, who’s telling her her mother was once beautiful?

As a cat lover, I take offense to Katniss’ insults to the poor one eyed furball 😭.

So coal miners are also women? I suspected as much but I didn’t realize it was explicitly stated? So if Katniss’ life had gone differently, would she have become a coal miner?

So none of the houses in Twelve get electricity outside of a couple hours a night? Or just in the Seam?

I always forget that Katniss had nightmares even before the games 😔😔😔. Nightmares of her father “being blown to bits.” She has a vivid way with words.

Her father made her bow 🥺🥺. I knew that. I just thought I should mention it again. She uses the bow her father handmade throughout the series 🥺.

Also she says Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to “the few of them who hunt”. A few is more than two. Who else besides Katniss and Gale go hunting?

I like that she randomly starts mumbling to herself 🤣🤣🤣

Once upon a time, Katniss was outspoken apparently. But she mentions that she has to hold her tongue even at home because Prim may repeat her words. I don’t know why, but Prim seems immature for twelve years old. At twelve, in today’s society, you’re going into sixth grade. A sixth grader should know how to keep a secret or hold her tongue.

Gale says she never smiles but in the woods but isn’t that the only place they really spend time together? 🤣

“I kind of liked that lynx but I liked the money I got for it’s pelt more” 😂😂😂

An arrow inside bread. How fortuitous 😭😭😭

I do love that Katniss’ first introduction of Gale is “he could be my brother”

“But we’re at least not that closely related” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

“Katniss, get off your cousin”

Even though the merchant class is smaller

Meaning they’re even more inbred

And Katniss is half merch-

Okay I’m done with this line of thinking 🤭😅

So backwoods 🤣

So did Mrs. Everdeen’s parents disown her? Or what? Do they still own that apothecary shop? Does Katniss occasionally walk by her grandparents in the town square? Like I’d like more context here, Suz 🙃

Aww, I always feel so bad for Katniss when she talks about her mother abandoning her 😭😩🥺

“But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type” me either. Me either 🤧.

This may be why I so closely relate to her when she’s angry.

And why when people in the book say she needs to be more forgiving (ala Haymitch) I’m like “no”

I’m sorry but on second glance (more like 8th glance because I’ve read this chapter since I was 16) it’s so obvious Gale was hitting on her here 😅.

She’s oblivious 🤣🤣🤣

As she should be 😆

So later on, in the second book at least, Katniss definitely has some high respect for Hazelle Hawthorne. But here it seems to be like she’s implying Hazelle and her own mother are useless without her and Gale, and like they wouldn’t be able to provide for themselves. Maybe Hazelle just wasn’t fleshed out to Suzanne when she wrote the first book, the same way the love triangle you can tell if you look is sort of just tossed in there in the first book too? Anyways, just a thought.

That line about Prim being the only person Katniss is certain that she loves is sweet (it’s actually one of my favorite lines in the series) but it’s also so shady at the same time 😅😅😅. Like girl, you’re not sure if you love your mother or even your best friend (in a platonic way)?

Katniss makes a point in mentioning it took a long time for her and Gale to become friends. And I feel like that has been simplified a lot along the way, but it never really sounded to me like Katniss and Gale were besties for as long as most people think. The movies are a lot to blame for this, I know.

I don’t actually think Katniss is truly jealous here of the other girls wanting Gale? I feel like if she were she would have unconsciously insulted the school girls who were into him instead of just outright saying she was jealous, just not for romantic reasons. But who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️.

It was already mentioned earlier but I think Suzanne made a continuity error here, when Gale and Katniss mentioned fishing at the lake. The lake is a place Katniss explicitly mentioned in Catching Fire, to be private between her and her father. She even specially said she never took Gale there. I feel much better about my own writing continuity errors now.

Okay, both Katniss and Gale are so dumb. I would never prepare a feast for after the reaping. They’re just jinxing themselves. I have OCD really bad no one come for me.

I like how The Hob is a black market that’s literally just sitting in broad daylight 🤣🤣🤣.

Katniss just referenced being attacked by dogs... um I’m sorry, do we have no fear of rabies in this universe? 😭😭🙃🙃😐😐😅😅

Katniss : “me and the mayor’s daughter aren’t friends, we just hang out all the time at school, eat lunch together, sit by each other and are always partners. But weren’t not friends.” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I like the mention of hair ribbons for the rich girl. This is just the fic writer in me seeping into my reading.

Gale and Madge’s little dispute ...

I see why they get shipped together 😅. They’re both just taking swipes at each other here.

Awww, Katniss sticking up for Madge, even though Madge is the privileged one 😭. Katniss has such a pure heart.

The entire point of the Madge/Gale interaction though was just to set up the class divide explanation in Katniss’ head to the reader.

But my Peeta centric heart also picks up on the comments in Katniss’ head of how unlikely it is to be chosen at the reaping when you’re a town kid.

In other words, Peeta had a slim to none chance of being chosen and still was.

Now I think of it, so was Prim...

That was just an unlucky reaping for the kids without tesserae 🙃

Also it reminds me of every fic I ever read that mentioned a conspiracy in the reapings and how the kids aren’t actually chosen at random but anyways I digress

I feel Gale though, with the whole idea of knowing something isn’t this person’s fault and there’s nothing they could do but still being so angry at them because it isn’t fair that you have to suffer and they don’t.

My anger issues are really showing 😅😅😅.

Honestly though, if Katniss is saying Gale on a normal day is rational about the class divide not being merchants faults, then clearly his issues with Peeta later on really were just of jealousy and not because he was a merchant vs Seam.

I just feel like I’ve seen that around and I’m not really convinced

In my interpretation of the character, Katniss’ reasons for not sharing in Gale’s rage comes from exhaustion after a lifetime of powerlessness. Some people (re: females more often) just get worn out about the things they cannot change and can’t even let it get inside their brain because there’s nothing they could do about it.

I mean, she is a more understanding person than Gale but I feel like so much of her character is already so tired right from chapter one.

Okay, just a pointless rambling thought

“Where something pretty” these children are so shady 🤣🤣🤣 that’s a line I would say though

The fact that her like 42 year old mother still fits in a dress she wore at like 20 is really a testament to how hungry they are 🤧🤧🤧

Okay but I’m not trying to pick on her mother, but when they were starving, why did either she or Katniss sell the fancy clothes from her apothecary days? I’m nitpicking I know. I’m a nitpicker.

Also good for Katniss trying to forgive her mother.

God knows how hard it is for me to try and forgive people.

Literally, God knows.

I like that Katniss didn’t disagree with Prim saying she’s beautiful, just that she doesn’t usually look this way 😂😂😂.

I just know my sister wouldn’t let me not take tesserae if this was us. She’d be like “you’ll be fine, four entries? Please. We can have more food for an entire year, don’t be selfish.” 😅😅😅

I feel like noting that Katniss and Prim’s age gap isn’t that significant? Four years? That’s not that large. Not even at 12 and 16.

They herd these children off like they’re .... pigs going to a slaughter... 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss casually stating “I could be shot on a daily basis” 😐😐😐

Katniss and Gale agreeing they’d rather be shot than starve is honestly so sad but lowkey sounds like something two teenagers would say. They should have put dialogue like this in the movies.

I didn’t even remember District 12 has 8,000 people.... why’d I think they only had 3,000????

I need to update some of my fics with this information

Katniss just said “televised by the state”. I’ve never heard her call any region a state before?

I like that Katniss calls Effie’s grin scary and white, because tons of people (i.e me) whiten our teeth in today’s society. And to Katniss and probably all of Twelve that’s creepy. I think it’s weird to Europeans too but l digress.

Also do the people in this district brush and floss, they never seem to mention it in the books, ya know?

Honestly the idea of the hunger games sounded cooler without Songbirds and Snakes telling us it was just some dumb guy’s idea that no one ever thought would come true.

Aww, sugar is a delicacy 🤧🤧🤧

I knew already that but lemme fully feel that sentiment for a moment okey

Umm I’m sorry, did Mayor Undersee just casually state Lucy Gray Baird’s name every year and we never knew it? Did Snow just allow this? Seems suspish

Also the idea of Katniss being her distant relative and hearing the name and not knowing the connection... and yeah, anyways. I got wayyyy ahead of myself and off track sorry

Why would Haymitch hug Effie? I’m sorry, but Hayffie having a secret affair at some point in all the years they worked together seems more likely than I thought.

I mean, Katniss never mentions Haymitch hugging anyone besides her and Peeta when they just almost died, are about to die or that one time Katniss was sobbing because she thought Peeta was gonna die.

You know what though? I like that at this moment, when the name is about to be announced, Katniss worried about herself. She spends so much time worrying for her sister, babying her sister, mothering her sister, she deserves ten seconds of worrying for her own safety.

Of course, said sister is the one chosen. Ironic considering the whole encounter with Madge.

Okay, I think that concludes my thoughts for chapter one of The Hunger Games!

#thgagain #I’m not tagging anything else because this is so long I’m so sorry if anyone tries to read this mess 😅😅😅😅😅🤧🤧🤧🤧

23 notes · View notes

bethpeaches123 · 4 years ago

Note

Everlark #46

Okay, this took much longer than I’d hoped, but that’s because every time I thought I was finished, something new popped into my head and I had to include it, so it’s also much longer than I’d anticipated. But, here it is, @mandelion82! I hope you enjoy! I’m thinking of continuing it too, so stay tuned! Also going to post it on AO3. :)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everlark 46: nanny/single parent au

The Nanny/Babysitter/Minder

When Katniss Everdeen placed an ad looking for a nanny to care for her five-year-old daughter Cassie, the gorgeous blond, blue-eyed specimen of a man standing on her front porch was not exactly what she had in mind.

“Can I…help you? Sir?” she asked, trying to wipe the puzzled expression off her face when she opened the door.

He smiled, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his dark wash jeans, looking slightly puzzled himself. “I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark? I emailed you about the nanny position for your daughter? We agreed I’d come over to meet her at one o’clock today?” he replied. His eyes flickered to the side at the sound of a car horn behind him on the busy street, then flicked back to Katniss while he waited for her response.

Flustered that Peeta was apparently a man’s name and not an old woman’s like she’d assumed, (Why had she assumed that? What could have it been short for? Petunia? Come on, Katniss) she hesitated and then said, “oh, yes, of course. Um, please, come in,” stepping aside to let the subtly muscular man walk past her and into the hallway.

Hesitating again, she decided to throw caution to the wind and continue with the appointment with this man, Peeta. She hadn’t received any other responses to the ad she’d placed two weeks prior, and she was getting desperate. Her surgery schedule had changed at the hospital, thanks to crotchety Chief Abernathy who didn’t care about her childcare woes, and she needed to find someone to pick Cassie up from school until her current shift rotation changed again in a few months’ time. If it changed. Knowing Abernathy, he’d keep her on this schedule indefinitely.

“Cassie? Can you come out please sweetheart, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she called down the hall.

She motioned for Peeta to proceed into the living room as a tiny pixie of a girl came bounding down the hall and into the room, her dark brown hair in two messy braids down her back. “Mama, I was playing,” she whined, but stopped and stared, wide-eyed at the blond man standing in front of her. “Who are you?” she asked, curiously.

“Cassie honey, I told you we’d be meeting your new nann-err…your….baby-um…your…minder…today. Remember?” hastily fumbling over what to call Peeta. “This is Mr. Mel-um, Peeta.”

“Hi Mr. Peeta,” Cassie whispered, peering up at him shyly as her little mouth curling into a smile.

Peeta knelt down in front of Cassie and held out his hand. “Hello Miss Cassie, it’s very nice to meet you. You can call me just Peeta, though, if you’d like,” he replied, gently smiling at the girl. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, I hope.”

“Cassie, why don’t you tell Peeta about school? Cassie just started grade one. Peeta, can I get you something to drink?” asked Katniss, starting towards the kitchen. She needed to put some distance between herself and this gorgeous man. Needed to catch her breath and steady herself – it had been a while since she’d been around anyone who made her feel so flustered. She was usually so calm and cool-headed; she needed to be, being an orthopedic surgeon and all. When Peeta didn’t reply right away, she turned to face him and found him staring straight at her.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, his eyes warm as he looked at her for a beat longer than normal, before turning his focus back to her mini-me sitting before him on the floor. She could feel the heat from his brief gaze go straight to her core. She shivered and spun on her heel, swiftly walking to the kitchen. What was that? As she poured herself a glass of water, she gave herself a mental shake before gulping it down and returning to the living room to sit and observe.

As Katniss watched the two interact on the floor, her initial hesitations began to melt away. Peeta was patient, attentive and gentle with her sweet girl, listening to her talk about her dolls, how much she wanted a cat (Katniss refused - she and felines did not get along) and how nice her kindergarten teacher Mr. Cinna was. Peeta asked her questions about her favourite colour (purple, but also green, like Mama) what she wanted to be when she grew up (a veterinarian) and her favourite flavour ice cream (Rocky Road).

After 45 minutes had passed and the two seemed thick as thieves, Katniss’s worries were gone. Her desperation to find someone to look after Cassie while she was at work had melted away as she watched Cassie, normally a shy, reserved little girl, open up and giggle at the gentle man who made silly faces and showed her pictures of his cat, Cupcake (she could’ve scolded him for that - she didn’t need Cassie getting any more ideas about wanting a cat.) Occasionally, she’d laugh softly at something one of them would say, and she’d catch Peeta’s eye when he’d glance at her and smile warmly, his dimples dusting his cheeks.

With her ex Gale no longer in the picture, and her mother and sister living two states away, she didn’t have any family support. Peeta seemed to be the answer to her prayers, judging from how quickly he and her daughter got along. Plus…he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Stop lusting after the hired help, Katniss. Get it together.

After some more time had passed, Katniss looked at her watch and said, “Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of Peeta’s time, Cassie, and you have to get ready to head out to your singing lesson too,” said Katniss, standing up and motioning to her daughter to go to her room and get ready. “Why don’t you brush your teeth, use the bathroom and get your sheet music from your bedroom while I talk to Peeta?”

“But I don’t haveta use the bathroom, Mama,” Cassie grumbled. She didn’t make any moves to get up from her spot on the floor next to Peeta, who smartly stayed silent as he watched the mother and daughter talk.

“You will as soon as we get in the car and by then it’ll be too late. Go, please, missy,” replied her mother, sternly.

Peeta stood up from where he’d been sitting crossed legged on the floor with Cassie and dipping into a deep bow, offered her his hand to pull her up. “May I be of service to the young lady and help her up?” His eyes twinkled as she giggled again and placed her little hand in his, letting him easily pull her to her feet. “Will I see you again, Mr. Peeta?” she asked shyly, glancing at her mother before turning back to him.

“I would like that, Miss Cassie. How about I chat with your mama while you get ready? It’s a good idea to listen to her - she knows best,” he replied gently.

Cassie huffed, but turned and bounded out of the room, the chorus of “Let It Go” echoing down the hall as she went.

Peeta chuckled and shook his head amusedly, shoving his hands in his front pockets, adopting his stance from earlier. He turned his gaze to Katniss once again, his piercing blue eyes warm and kind. Before she could speak, Peeta beat her to it.

“She seems like a wonderful little girl, Mrs. Everdeen. I’d be happy to look after her for you when needed,” he said. “I can provide a list of references and my child CPR certification if you’d like. I mean, if you’d like me to...if you’d like t-to hire me?” He stuttered, watching her face spread into a wide, amused smile.

“It’s Dr. Everdeen, actually. Ms. Dr. Everdeen, really. I’m not married. Ever. Haven’t ever been married. I mean, not that that matters, I’m jus-I mean Cassie’s father and I weren’t married, we were just together, but he’s not around anymore, he-” what was wrong with her? She was a top-notch surgeon; a strong, independent woman, raising a child on her own. Why was she so tongue-tied around this man? She took a deep breath and said, “Katniss is fine. And your references and other files would be great. Could you email them to me please?”

Amused by her stuttered response that mirrored his own, Peeta replied, “Okay. Katniss it is, and yes, I’ll send them over today.” He seemed relieved that she was as nervous as he was.

After they discussed hours and rate of pay, the one questions that had been nagging in the back of her mind finally couldn’t be left unasked. “Why do you want this job?” She blurted.

Mortified, she continued before he could even open his mouth. “Sorry, it’s just...when I placed the ad, I expected to find an old, grandmother-type woman. Not a young, handsome guy. I mean-I just...I haven’t come across a lot of male...nannies,” she trailed off, embarrassed by her word choice. Did I just call him handsome? To his face? Oh god, I wish I could bury MY face in my hands right about now.

Peeta shifted somewhat uncomfortably from one foot to the other before replying. “That’s a fair question, I guess. I work in my family’s bakery in the mornings, but my day is finished by noon. I wanted something to fill the rest of my days and I love kids – I have a niece and nephew who are just the greatest, I love spending time with little people that age, they’re so inquisitive and honest. I’ve actually thought about going back to school to become a teacher – I mean, I haven’t ruled it out yet, I’m only twenty-six, that’s not too old. Plus, I thought about how much of a struggle it must be sometimes to be a single parent and if I have the ability and capacity to help someone out, well, then I want to do that.” He realized he was rambling a bit and flushed with embarrassment. “Is that weird? I just thought I’d combine helping people and kids and...well, here I am. Here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” mused Katniss, staring at him wonderingly. “That seems like as good a reason as any, I suppose.” She started to turn away but stopped and looked at him once again. “And I do appreciate the help, by the way…can you start Monday?” Her lips curved into a small smile, Peeta beamed back at her, this time his dimples on full display.

“Great! Yes, Monday’s great. Okay. Good. I think this will be...great. I’ve said great a lot. I’ll stop,” said Peeta sheepishly, running his hand through his messy blond curls. His face flushed bright red again, a shade Katniss found endearing.

Before she could respond again, Cassie came bounding down the hallway, her teeth clean and music bag in tow. “I’m ready, Mama! Mr. Peeta, so will I see you again?” She asked hopefully, peering up at her new friend once again.

Peeta glanced at Katniss, who smiled and nodded, before replying to Cassie. “You will! I’ll be there to pick you up from school on Monday. I have a very serious question for you though, Miss Cassie. Are you ready to hear it?” Her brow furrowed as she nodded slowly. “Do you like to have fun?” She little face broke out into a grin as she nodded again, more enthusiastically this time. “Well good,” he continued. “Because we’re going to have lots of it.”

Hearing her child break out into giggles again melted her heart and stirred something inside her. Looking at Peeta, she met his intense gaze with one of her own, grateful for this kind man to care for the more important person in her life.

“Well, it’s time to go, sweetheart. Peeta, thank you so much again. We’ll be chatting before Monday to go over the rest of the particulars,” said Katniss, ushering Cassie out the front door and turning to Peeta once again. As he moved past her to go through the front door, his hand lightly pressed against the small of her back to step around her, and Katniss felt the heat of his touch through her coat. It spread from her back throughout her body, right down to her toes. She froze as he passed through the door and hopped down the steps, turning back to look at her and flashed his dimples once again. Oh my. This is going to be interesting…

“I’ll speak to you very soon, Katniss. Cassie, I’ll see you Monday afternoon!” he called, cheerfully as he waved and headed to his car.

“I like Mr. Peeta, Mama. He’s nice. And he has a cat!! Do you think he can bring Cupcake over to play with me sometime?” Cassie babbled as Katniss strapped her into her seat, her mind replaying the memory of Peeta’s touch on her back over and over. She flushed again, thinking of how close his muscular body had to hers been when he walked by, how his blue eyes sparkled when he stared at her, how his dimples seemed to make an appearance when he beamed at her….how his ass looked when he bent over to help Cassie up...

Oh no. She was in trouble.

A young, hot, (she has to admit he was hot, there was no denying it) kind, patient man was going to be looking after her child and thus very, very involved in her life for the unforeseeable future. This would be interesting indeed…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#everlark fanfiction #everlark #everlark fanfic #mama!katniss #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #babysitter!peeta #The Hunger Games

60 notes · View notes

timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

Text

Looking to Make Friends

Dafni x Astarion || T || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Some pre relationship fun before any feelings were caught. Astarion has a pretty good WIS score and with his background, I think he'd be quite good at reading other people. It's interesting to contrast that with Dafni, who is also very perspective but in a very different way. (and they were narrative foils)

Astarion padded along softly behind Dafni, bow drawn and at the ready. He’d offered to help her catch dinner for the party. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t much for hunting. Not with a bow anyway. In truth, he’d followed her out here to pick her brain. He wanted to get the measure of each of his newfound associates and the peculiar cleric seemed the best place to start. She was far and away the most open of the bunch. The rest of their number all carried an air of privacy about them. Dafni, in contrast, was completely transparent or at least presented herself to be. She could also serve as a bridge to gaining the trust of the more discerning among them. She’d already created a respectable rapport with Gale and the pair they’d picked up in the grove, Wyll, and Criella. She’d gone out of her way to offer hospitality and kindness to each person in the party, even those who seemed less than interested in playing nice.

You do seem the type. Inquisitive. Looking for connection… It’s every man for himself and you are looking to make friends.

The corner his Astarion’s lip turned up. Shadowheart was canny. That much was clear. She was, however, too short-sided to see the benefits of having someone of that sort on her side. Dafni wanted friends and he needed to secure an ally- It was an ideal fit. He’d noticed the way she blushed at his teasing. How eager she was to keep his company. She almost certainly found him attractive. That made things a bit easier at least.

“Can I confess something to you?” He inquired, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear, “I asked to tag along because I wanted to spend time with you.” Dafni’s cheeks turned cherry red as he traced the blade of her ear. A coy smile forming across his lips. “Aw, I hope I haven’t embarrassed you. I couldn’t help but overhear the way Shadowheart rebuffed you this afternoon. It’s her loss really if she can’t see what an intriguing woman you are.”

“I-Thank you, Astarion.” She stammered, tracing a small circle in the dirt with the toe of her boot, “What did you want to know?”

“Tell me about your life before all of this?” He asked, gesturing to his temple.

“In the city or before that?” She asked, tilting her head thoughtfully, “I can think of several ways to answer that question.”

Astarion mulled his response over for a moment. He was curious about her life in the city. Dafni was a creature of the wild through and through. She seemed very much at home among the plants and creatures of the forest. It was hard to picture her strolling about the lower city. But, he’d observed her to be the sentimental sort. An inquiry into her more distant past would yield far more.

“Tell me about where you grew up?”

He heard her heart give a worrying lurch. Her honey-brown eyes falling to the faded leather of her shoes as the flush that covered her cheeks grew even deeper. That was not the reaction he had been expecting from her. Was she embarrassed? No. Nervous. Her arms crossed over her chest as she let out a rush of air from barely parted lips.

“Umm- Well, as you might have overheard Criella saying, I’m from the Feywilds originally. I should have told you the truth when you asked about my being from the city. I don’t like lying! Even by omission! I just wanted you to trust me...”

Astarion knew a thing or two about conceding one’s nature. He had to stifle the chuckle building in his chest. It would seem he and lovely little Daffodil had something in common.

Her reaction had been rather dear. But, the logic did follow. The creatures of Faerie had a certain...Reputation. View by the common folk as at best, fickle, whimsical beings, ruled by emotion and a strange sense of decorum. And at worst as wicked, Unseelie tricksters or hags looking to strike duplicitous bargains.

She wants to be liked, He thought, Her reputation is important to her.

“Think nothing of it!” He soothed with a wave of his hand, “We are all entitled to our little secrets. I’d still like to hear more if you’d be kind enough to indulge me?”

“Of course!” The tension in her shoulders loosened and she continued, “I’m actually quite proud of my heritage, despite my omission. Of all of the Protectors' children, the eladrin of the Faerie are the most like the first elves that sprung from his blood. The plane of Faerie is magnificent. As close a place to Arvandor, there is. It teems with the most beautiful plants and colorful creatures in all of creation. It is a place of enchantment and wonder, both deadly and delightful. Many creatures who stumble into a crossing by mistake lose their wits to its irresistible splendor but my people, we prosper where others wither.”

He took note of the way her back straightened when she spoke. Her posture took on an elegance he hadn’t seen in her before. He couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. For all her charity and warmth she still held a small taste of that classic elven haughtiness. Interesting indeed.

Even more interesting still was the specific pride she took in her ability to survive what overs could not. He was not easily impressed but spirited Dafni had made quite the impression on him. She was tenacious and spirited. She would not surrender herself to their grim fate.

Another similarity.

He thought back to their first night in camp, to her girlish snickering at his unease about sleeping outdoors. She had called ‘N'Tel'Que'Tethira’, a city elf.

But, no sooner than the words left her did a modified expression fall across her pretty round face. Her next sentence had been a string of apologies and assurance she felt no superiority to her city-dwelling cousins.

Astarion had gathered the fondness she felt for the elves was not limited to her own people but rather all varieties of elves. He’d overhead her with Gale, insisting she was no scholar yet there seemed to be no question of elven lore or history she could not summon at the drop of a pin. He’d not given much thought to his own elveness in quite some time. On the list of things, Astarion was, elf did not fall very high on the ranking of importance. Yet Dafni, from the moment she set eyes on him, saw kin and ally. He’d even seen her extend this esteem to Shadowheart.

Pride in her culture and people. He’d found another piece of her puzzle. A bit obvious but important nonetheless.

“I was born in the Faerie reflection of the Moonshaes, on the Isle of Gwynneth.” Dafni continued, “In a village called PeleiraI. It was an oasis created by the primal elves who first came to the feywilds after being cast out by Corellon.”

Astarion nodded along as she spoke. He recalled the images that had flashed through his mind upon their first meeting. Tucked away in a forest of mythical beauty, her ‘village’ had been a far cry from the thatched huts and dirt floors the word brought to mind. He’d seen spires and structures of flawless marble reflecting a breathtaking, sunset of burnt orange and vivid violet. The ethereal structures scattered among the woodland didn’t detract from the wild nature of the glen but enhanced it. Appearing as if they had been grown from the earth just the same as the imposing trees that sheltered them.

“I saw the fleeting image of a settlement when our minds touched. It looked like something out of a fairytale. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He affected his voice, coloring it with wistfulness and awe, “I can only imagine the adventures you got up to there.”

“I did a lot of nothing most days.” She snorted, “Read. Practice medicine or magic. Explore the forest. Pester my older sisters. Maybe a hunt with visiting Seelie knights if I was lucky. I was never really allowed out without my sisters or some sort of escort.” Dafni scoffed the heel of her boot hitting the tree behind her with a soft, repetitive thump. “My mother, Thesmia is our clan’s leader. She’s a well-respected wizard and historian of a sort. I think she knew I was curious about what was on the other side of the mirror so to speak. Gwyneth is littered with fey crossings and she didn’t want me wandering off to the material all alone.”

She was the sheltered daughter of a noble (or close to it)? Right within his bailiwick! Her story wasn’t an unfamiliar one. Many of his marks in the city had been young lords and ladies smothered by the expectation and duty. All itching for the taste of freedom they were certain they’d find in Astarion’s honeyed words and dark charms.

This revelation did not yield new information so much as clarify an impression he already had. He’d seen more than her childhood home that day on the beach. The worried face of an otherworldly elven woman and bone aching wanderlust still burned through him when he played the memories over in his head.

“Is that why you left to live with the wood elves?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, “To see this side of the mirror?”

“You remembered?” The flush returned to her cheeks as she fidgeted with the string of her bow.

Astarion smiled his most beguiling smile, “I told you I thought you were intriguing, did I not?”

“I suppose you did!” She hummed, “Well to answer your question, yes. In apart anyways-'' She shrugged squeezing her biceps, “I wanted to explore, I was never going to know myself in Thesmia’s shadow. She was very...resistant to the idea. She’d seen how cruel people could be. That was part of why she made a home for us in PeleiraI. If she had it her way I would have spent the rest of my days in tucked away safe in her tower.” Dafni paused for a beat, her hands anxiously toying with the edge of her sleeve, “Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my mother dearly. She can just be a bit…”

“Overbearing?” He suggested.

“Yes.” Dafni giggled, releasing the worried fabric from her fingertips, “I know she wanted what was best for me. We just didn’t agree on what that was. I wanted to live my life and she wanted me to live hers.”

“I can sympathize to an extent.” He said, his mouth turning down into a scowl.

“You had a loving but smothering ancient being as a mother?” She tittered, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

“No.” His tone came out a bit sharper than he’d intended. He ran his hand through his hair composing himself before he continued, “But, I understand the feeling that your life isn’t really your own.”

It was a risk to offer such information up. One he maybe shouldn’t have taken but, something about her vulnerability made him feel a little less guarded. A skill that could prove dangerous. At least his slip up hadn’t been for not. Her heart had slowed to a steady thrum. The jittery shuffling of her feet had stopped.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dafni responded, placing a hesitant hand on his arm. He had expected her to pry. She was painfully curious and astonishingly open with her own feelings. Yet, she seemed to sense pressing the matter would upset him. Instead, she moved on. Her voice coming out small and far away, “I think she wanted me to be more like her. Refined. Intelligent. Graceful.” She sighed pressing her back to the mossy tree trunk, “Sometimes I worry I might have been a bit of a disappointment.”

Ah-

There it was. The piece he’d been hoping to find. She wanted reassurance. Validation. To be valued and appreciated by her own merits.

“I don’t know your mother or her mind but, for what it’s worth, I think you are quite remarkable.”

“Really?” Her voice quivered as she looked up at him with sparkling doe eyes.

“If not for the tadpole’s intervention you may well have, how did you put it, cut my smug head right off my shoulders?” He snickered toying absentmindedly with the pommel of his dagger, “Or made a respectable attempt at any rate. I’m not often bested by my quarries.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t.” Dafni leaned in close, the sweet scent of her dizzying his senses. Her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “Your head is far too lovely to be parted from your shoulders.”

“Why, Daffodil! I’m flattered!” He stated a pleased grin plastered across his face, “Not surprised but, flattered. You did strike me as a woman of taste.”

“Are you always this cocky?” She chided in a teasing tone.

“Probably.”

“Hmm. Why am I not surprised” Dafni had tried to sound vexed but the edges of her voice teemed with amusement. Her big, topaz eyes gleaming with joviality, “Fair is fair. Tell me about your life before the tadpoles?”

He felt a slight unease creep into his chest in response to her innocent inquiry. He’d played fast and loose with the truth countless times with his marks but Dafni was different. She was observant, always picking up on the little subtleties of people's deminers. He would do better to stick to omissions rather than out and out mistruths. He brought his hand to the back of his neck giving the tender mussels a gentle rub.

“Oh, what is there to tell.” He put on a dispassionate expression. Careful to sound cool and nonchalant. “I was a magistrate- it’s all rather tedious.”

“Really? I can’t picture you as a bureaucrat.”

“And why not?” He gasped clutching his hand over his chest.

“Well for starters, you despise rules even more than I do. You like to stir up trouble. And your sense of morality- How do I put this, seems a bit...crooked? No offense.” She explained, indicating her points on the tips of her fingers.

“Oh, none taken!” Astarion gave her a peal of hearty laughter, shaking his head, “Daffodil, I hate to be the one to tell you there is a great deal of dubious morality in government.”

Her expression soured, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly as she stuck it out, “Well, I still can’t picture it. You are far too much fun for such a stuffy job.”

“People have many sides, dear.” He shrugged glancing over at her with a playful look, “But thank you.”

#Dafni of Gwynneth #astarion #elf writes #bg3 fic

16 notes · View notes

efrmellifer · 4 years ago

Text

Abenteuer

Wolmeric Week May 2021, Day Five: Adventure

“Come home and pack a night bag,” Etien instructed, barging into Aymeric’s office.

Before he could stop and formulate a proper response, he had already blurted out a less-than-dignified “What?”

“You said you wanted to come along with me on an adventure. I figure we’re never going to get the time if we don’t take the time. And you could use a vacation. So come home with me and pack a night bag. We’ll have you back here, quill scratching, by tomorrow afternoon.”

Well, it was hard not to trust her, when, to boil it into one sentence, it was Etien. And she was right, he did need a vacation. A change of scenery for a night might do him some good.

He looked her over, taking in the dark blue coat she wore (a gift from Lord Edmont, he thought?) and the soft, unarmored hempen leggings she had on underneath, tucked into boots that were equally stylish and practical.

She couldn’t have extended her hand to him any more obviously without physically doing so. So he laid his hand in hers. Metaphorically.

“Where are we going?”

“You like The Churning Mists, don’t you?”

They walked through the Chocobo Forest, packs on their backs and hand in hand.

“And you cleared this with Lucia?”

“Lucia wanted to evict you from your office. I was the one with the kinder idea to order you to come home and pack some things.” Etien stopped walking, looking up at Aymeric as he laughed, a tiny, fond smile on her lips.

“That was kind of you. I don’t know what I would have done for one night.”

Now she rolled her eyes and kept walking. “I know it’s been worse in the field before. But this is supposed to relax you at least a little bit. Thought you might be more comfortable in fresh clothes tomorrow.” She kept walking. “Though I suppose you could have just prayed for rain, and chewed some tree bark for oral hygiene.”

“Does that work?”

She nodded. “At least, it always does for me. Got the smell of wine off my breath once, too.”

“The smell of wine? That’s not like you.”

She grimaced. “It wasn’t indeed.” She squeezed his hand a little tighter, leading the way along the path.

“Remind me what that large structure is again?” he asked.

Studies had been conducted on the architecture that remained in the Dravanian Forelands since the end of the Dragonsong War, in an attempt to understand what about these ruins had helped them to endure for so long. (The help of the dragons, was the conclusion they had come to so far.) But Aymeric hadn’t been involved in much of those investigations, and Etien knew little about architecture. She could identify the rocks used, and she recognized the style as similar to that of Ishgard, but even combining their knowledge, they didn’t know anything much, other than…

“Anyx Trine. A fairly large dragon roost, from what I understand?” she said, squinting into the late afternoon light as she tried to remember. “We’ve been here before.”

“I did think I recognized it.” Recollection washed over him. “You do not plan to take me through Mourn again, do you?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, no. I just prefer going to Moghome from here. The distance is shorter.”

Aymeric nodded. “Again, your kindness is appreciated.”

Two masses of aether shimmered, and then they were gone.

“I don’t want to talk to Chieftain Moglin right away,” Etien groaned when they appeared again at Moghome.

“Etien, did you bring me up here to do chores for the Moogles?”

“No. Well… no. I brought you up here because it’s a pretty place to spend a night. But I knew we were going to be caught wandering around anyway, so I thought we might as well get our obligatory act of service out of the way, kupo.”

Aymeric heaved a heavy sigh. “Fury have mercy. All right. I can do the talking.”

And with that, they were sent wandering all the way to the Landlord Colony, gathering spices and flowers.

“What do they even do with these?”

Etien ran her scythe through the stems of the flowers Aymeric was holding upright for her. “I assume they cook with the spices. The flowers”--she sliced down some more blooms-- “I have no idea.”

“Have you never eaten Moogle food?”

“I doubt they’d feed us. But no. I haven’t. Ysale cooked when we…” A shadow passed over them, and they both looked up. “Were here.”

Then the thud of a dragon landing.

“Friend of Ysale! What bringeth you to the Churning Mists?”

“Vidofnir!” Etien chirped, doing her best to embrace the dragon’s neck. “Ah… visiting. We were hoping to enjoy a night out here. You remember Aymeric, right?”

“Indeed I do. Welcome once more to my father’s home, son of Thordan.”

Etien winced, but relaxed as Aymeric thanked Vidofnir.

“We had best get this plant matter back to the Moogles. I expect they’re waiting, tapping their little paws,” he whispered.

Finally, night had come and the Moogles were satisfied with the services rendered.

“I thought they would never let us go,” Etien mumbled, handing over a plate. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Aymeric scoffed. “But they did. And not a moment too soon; if I had had to wait much longer for this, I’d have started eating grass.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, sitting down, waiting for her food to finish cooking.

“It was through no fault of yours, dearest. In fact, I find myself impressed you managed to get this done so quickly.” He bit into the roast fowl. “And well.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she chided with a smile.

“Aw, but this is my vacation, surely I can be a little less well-mannered?”

Etien rose from where she’d been sitting, carefully stepping around the fire, and sat down next to him, leaning against him. “I suppose so. For a treat.”

He held out a carrot for her. “Here, have some.”

“Mine is still on the fire. I’ll be okay.”

“Eat, Etien. You do not have to wait.”

“Oh, all right.” She bit into the carrot while he held it still, then took it from him. “I’ll just give you my parsnip when it’s done, then.”

When she’d sat down again, with her food, she jumped, as if she had sat on something.

“A rock?” Aymeric asked.

“No. I just remembered.” She dug in her bag, pulling out a small bottle. “I brought wine for you.” She uncorked it with her teeth, and handed the bottle over. “Hopefully drinking directly from the bottle is one of those less than well-mannered things you feel like doing.”

He snorted, sipping at it. “This is good. Where did it come from?”

“Out in the Sylphlands.” She sat down again, handing over her parsnip as promised and tucking into her food.

Aymeric tipped the bottle toward her before he finished it. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I failed to share.”

Etien reached out, then her hand curled, as if she were rethinking it. Finally, she took the bottle and had a tiny sip. “There. The rest is yours.”

“I appreciate you making an effort,” he murmured, draining the bottle of its remaining contents, and rolling it toward her bag again.

She leaned against him again, purring. “For you? Always.”

Unfortunately, Etien had forgotten that dragons weren’t the only danger of the Churning Mists, and that the others hadn’t gone away when the chorus of the dragons was a peaceful chorale.

So she was taken utterly by surprise when she saw a Melia stalking Aymeric back toward their little campsite from the Moogle residence a short distance away that he’d wandered off to.

She called to him, already nocking an arrow (of course she’d brought her bow), and telling him, “move toward its back quickly, but do not get its attention.”

He did as she said, and watched as an arrow lodged itself in the bark of the creature, then another, this one with a sickly scent to it. He backed away from the Melia and the dangerous arrows, one whizzing by his ear with the force of a gale.

“I didn’t know you were moving, sorry!” she called.

But the creature collapsed, withering as it did so, and Aymeric trotted back to Etien’s side.

“Well. That was an adventure.”

“I always deliver on my promises,” she replied, putting away her bow. “Are you tired? I’m tired.”

“I am,” Aymeric answered, rolling out their bedding for the night. “We don’t expect rain, correct?”

“Aye, should be clear skies all day.”

“Wonderful.” When the bedrolls were ready, she lay down, staring up at the sky. Aymeric joined her, and before he could reach out to pull her to him, she was already scooting closer.

They both looked up at the sky.

“So… all those years ago, when you had me go to Silvertear, and Midgardsormr dulled Hydaelyn’s blessing,” Etien began.

Aymeric hummed, not quite inquisitively, but to indicate that he followed where she was leading, and he was listening.

She continued. “Had you actually seen the Dragon Star get brighter?”

“I have to believe that the astrologians did, for the sake of my own understanding of everything that came after. Why?”

“I just wondered if you had said that so you could take a measure of the Scions. Of me specifically.”

“No, I always thought that what was said about you was true. What Haurchefant had to say most of all. The first time I actually doubted stories about you was—I was going to say it was when they claimed you poisoned the Sultana. But it was actually when people whispered that you were… how did they say it? Sweet on me?”

Etien snorted and giggled. “Shame. Imagine how much faster things might have gone if you’d trusted that rumor above any other.”

“Aye, but it does no good to dwell on the past and what could have been,” Aymeric conceded with a sigh, pulling her closer still to kiss her forehead. “And now, even though I would think the Dragon Star hasgotten brighter, seeing as Midgardsormr is among us again, I cannot tell.”

She tipped her head, struggling to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because having you with me, every star burns more brightly.”

#Aytien #wolmeric week

3 notes · View notes

emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 11 months ago

Text

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate Fanfiction - Part 2

CHAPTER 2

“A surprise? What for?” I ask, pretending to be shocked as if my birthday isn’t next week. He rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head.

“Acquaintances?” He chuckles and rubs my back gently.

“Fine, fine. We’re good friends.”

“Listen, I may not be having kids ever, but I do get to live vicariously through my favorite people. Don’t let Wyll’s father hear me saying that.”

“Yeah, unfortunately the old man’s been begging for grandkids. I have to tell him ‘we’re working on it,’ though that’s beyond false,” Wyll chimes in. “Then again, you never know what’s in store for us. Our lives are full of surprises as it is.” True. Who knew they’d find a forge in Avernus to fix Karlach’s ‘heart’? Who knew Wyll would sell his soul to fight for the Hells and save Karlach’s life by bringing her with him? Their lives sure have a lot of stories, ones needing to be told to the world. Hopefully they do end up telling the Duke grandchildren probably won’t happen for him. It seems they just want to live their life without kids, and that’s totally reasonable as it is.

“Say, Gale, are Wyll and I still coming by tonight to watch little Jenevelle? If so, I’m PUMPED!”

“Baby, that…was supposed to be a surprise,” Wyll reminds her, followed by a sigh. “Good gravy.”

“Why do I feel like that was a shot at my horrible memory?”

“I assure you, it was not. Now, I’ll see you both tonight. I appreciate you attending to watching our little one. You truly are one of the most reliable people we’ve ever met. For that, I thank you. Truly.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. I will snag these opportunities any chance I get.”

“That sounds about right. Do not fret, my friend, you look fine,” I comment. “Besides, you should have seen Gale’s hair the first couple weeks.”

“It doesn’t help the adoption was so last minute. I always wanted children, but never had a plan. The opportunity presented itself unexpectedly. Needless to say, we’re so happy, and at first we were both so afraid,” Shadowheart adds. It seems they really are happy. They stare at each other amorously, then simultaneously look at their sleeping child. He’s so tiny. I handed her the gift basket I had made for them that contained a little quilted blanket, a mini crochet owlbear, a few clothed diapers, a rattle, and some bibs. “Emmy, this…is amazing. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” I can see deep within her green eyes the sincere gratitude and love. What can I say? She’s one of my best friends; I don’t even remember the friends I used to have growing up, if I even had any.

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad to have done this.”

As we all watch the sun begin to set, radiating a glorious apricot aura, I begin to think how life really is so incredible, and it’s even better having company to enjoy it with.

{view part 1 of my series and the rest of my fanfiction 👇🏻}

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #professor gale #bg3 fanfic #ao3 #karlach #dnd #astarion #dungeons and dragons #shadowheart #wyll ravengard

3 notes · View notes

ziracona · 4 years ago

Note

I love the bits you’ve been doing of the DBD crew interacting with the scream cast. You have any other ideas/hcs about them?

Yeah! So, since they dealt with a Ghostface and Jane runs a huge talk show, I feel like it’s only a matter of time before Sidney is asked on to talk about her book, and Gale just to talk—Dewey too, if he’s up for it. Considering her personal experience, even though it’s not with the supernatural, I think Sidney would be inclined to believe them all—epsecially after meeting Jane in person, and they’d get talking about their respective experiences and lives.

Since Quentin, Nancy, and Kate at least are already canonically fans of her book, Out of Darkness, I feel like all three would jump at the chance to meet her for real—especially afte Jane says she’s exactly like she writes, and really nice and kind. This gets a few of them to meet up with Sid and Jane for a lunch. They hit it off really well, and Sidney is (duly) fascinated by the whole tale, and one of them (Kate or Quentin) asks if she’d like to see some of the stuff first hand, and she does.

Which is how Sidney Prescott ends up walking into Dwight, Jake, and Adam’s 6 Hour Pride & Prejudice marathon at the Indiana cabin Adam talked them into they didn’t expect any company for. Net end result is a bunch of survivors meet Sidney Prescott and have a weird but fun luncheon and she figures out about what this group is like right off the back. It goes well though, and the people who have met Sid end up introducing her to the rest. Gale and Dewey both get ripped in too, and they hang out several times kind of “professionally”, to talk, then just kind of go “huh we’re sort of friends now aren’t we?” And hang out again just because.

Considering respective trauma and having someone who really does get it, I think Laurie would get along pretty great with Sidney. Nancy, David, Kate, and Quentin too. Jane clicks wildly with Gale and they become a terror of unimaginable proportions when working stories together. Min also really likes Gale. Tapp is scared of her but not as scared as he is of Jane.Dwight and Adam get along best with Dewey. Ace flirts too much with Gale, which Gale enjoys becuase it’s goofy and not very serious, but Dewey doesn’t clock that and is like 😨😢😠—dw tho they get that sorted tho. Most of them just kind of group mesh, especially Jeff and Claudette. Jake gets on remarkably well with Mark Kincaid, to both their surprise. Mark: “The god damn system.” Jake, doing a shot of whisky: “The god damn system.”

They meet Kirby too, after a little while, and she and Nea click over funny physical therapy rehab stories. It’s also just kinda nice to meet new people you know really are at least close to as fucked up as you are because of life, and it provides for some great closure and solidarity comfort.

Meg is ecstatic about meeting Sidney and tells her she told Ghostface “Let’s see if I’m Sidney Prescott material” as a threat before kicking his ass. Sidney likes their story about doing this a lot, and it’s the only thing that convinces her to give Frank a chance eventually. She likes Susie right away.

Adam and Sidney bond over author stuff (Gale could, but she’s way into chasing stories right now, so she pops in and out of those conversations to throw advice like confetti).

It’s weirder for them meeting the killers. Since that’s not exactly common knowledge, they don’t tell any of them at first who Jeff’s kids or Meg’s girlfriend or Claudette’s brother, Quentin and Min’s mom, Laurie’s Brother were. I think it comes out entirely accidental over a dinner becuase one of them got so comfortable around the Scream friends they completely forgot in the instant it wasn’t common knowledge. It’s uh—it’s kind of a mess. Sort of a shocked silence, then a, “I’m sorry—what?” From Gale, a panicked shit shit shit do we lie? What’s the lie? From around the table, who to their credit were definitely going to lie and try to cover, but I think it’s Philip who gets outed and he’s there, and well, he’s Philip. So he just sets down his utensils and is like “That’s true. Please don’t tell anyone. It’s...hard to explain, and understand, and I don’t want anyone to come under fire for not turning me in when we arrived.”

And like, it’s been a couple months, so they know Philip, and even itching for the hot goss Gale is willing (and dying) to listen and hear this, so they get the real version from him, kind of start to finish, and take it...wildly well. Considering. Susie gives the second part of her story (“Yeah you knew I was a killer, but I didn’t just disobey and turn on the Entity—I killed three of them before I did that, and hurt more. Because I was terrified of getting killed.”). It’s a lot to process, but like, they get why they can’t say. Gale starts pushing that it would be wildly useful to include, maybe anonymously? That one of them was a killer for real in the realm. So people have more in their arsenal if they ever get taken. Susie already kind of supplies that, but an honest to god full version? Complete 360? And if the details were vague and it was published anonymously, no one would know which of them it had been—probably most would assume Anna which—well—technically isn’t wrong either... And the survivors consider that.

Benedict, who had been keeping distance out of a fear Gale tripping him up and revealing more than he was supposed to, finally meets the gang after this, and so does Sally, who they’d been trying to not have mingle too much out of fear of the same thing. It’s uh. It’s super weird. Having not lived it, just knowing what the killers did, and not having lived through the face part of that heel-face turn. Like. Yikes. The Legion are especially hard, becuase they make the least sense. Philip didn’t know, Sally was broken mentally and manipulated, Anna was feral, more or less so was Michael (who is the only one they are not told about. Laurie guards her secrets. Guards them. Eventually tells Sidney, but only Sidney. And talks to Michael first.) Legion on the other hand? They were scared, but that’s the only real excuse. So, that one’s hard. That one takes awhile. But Susie is so miserable about her past and frank about it, and so is Joey, they’re a lot easier—especially Susie, by a mile, considering how many bullets she was ready to take. Frank and Julie are harder, and the Legion’s pasts aren’t actually so much ‘told’ as figured out. Susie is the only one to admit, Gale, who has been reading up, makes a guess like a statement, and her poker face isn’t good enough, and they just kinda know then.

They prove to be trustworthy (thank god—after dinner everyone [once alone] is like “Philip what the fuck man TuT don’t throw yourself under busses I’m begging you.”), so it works out, but it takes a little time to adjust to some of that. Eventually though, things smooth, and all three become semi-regulars to see. Most of their friends and family are dead, so it’s a nice addition to the Scream fam’s social lives too. Gale sometimes pitches in with Tapp and Meg’s work when she can. They meet up when in town. It’s just. It’s really nice, for all of them. They feel just a little more understood, and not like aliens back home. It’s a healing experience for the whole gang.

Sidney gets a lot of the younger survivors following her like ducklings for a while wanting to ask questions and also stealing her style becuase this is just how Meg and Nea and Susie will be sometimes. It’s cute though. She gets so many damn interviews, but for once they’re just motivated by curiosity and excitement at solidarity and inspiration, not a grab for network views or something to boost reputation, and it’s...it’s really nice. To have people that want to know for the reasons you’d want a person to want to know that kind of shit for.

#ask #anonymous #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #dead by daylight #ilm spoilers #scream

14 notes · View notes

mellarked-katnisseverdeen · 5 years ago

Text

Food for thought: An AU where Peetas family makes it to District 13.

Like maybe I am the only one but I’ve always been so interested in what would have/could have happened if Peeta’s parents and brothers made out of the bombing.

Some of my general ideas include Katniss and Mrs. Mellark clashing hard core. Secondly, I actually think Peeta’s brothers would be the first ones to help him. In a lot the same way as Delly, they would try and get him to recall the truth. From what we know there was nothing out of the ordinary relationship wise between the brothers- so my assumptions is they love him, and would want him back to himself.

Something tells me in general, Peetas recovery would maybe not faster. But smoother? Less painful? Having his family, even his not-so-loving mother, around to ease him back into the truth, would be comforting to him I think.

I can actually see Katniss and Gale drifting further apart faster too. Theres a part in MJ I think we all remember, when Katniss says she only wants Haymitch around. Simply because he loved Peeta too. Well...his father and brothers are on that list of people, too. And I don't think she’d put up with Gales BS if she had them as a support system, along with her mother, sister, Finnick and Johanna. Even more so after he got a little too close to Coin.

That just some cursory thoughts though. And I’d love to hear all yours!

#In general I always wanted more info on Peeta family #because we know about them but not a lot #like a tease XD #Peeta Mellark #The Mellarks #The Hunger Games AU

32 notes · View notes

searchingforstarss · 5 years ago

Text

failure’s a stranger we all dream about

febuwhump/fluff fic #5! written for the fluff prompt missing you and the whump prompts revealed secret, creators choice (i’ve gone with some classic college stress) and mental disorder.

Summary: Peter’s college workload and anxiety makes him worry that maybe he’s not good enough for Tony.

read on ao3 here!

The only thing coursing through Peter’s veins is Red Bull.

May would probably go into cardiac arrest if she could see how many empty cans of the stuff Peter has littered on the desk around him. It's not like he can help it. He just burns through it so fast and he really needs to stay awake tonight - his Circuits and Electronics assignment isn’t going to write itself, as much as he wishes it would.

So, here he is, with an assignment due tomorrow and an empty word document in front of him. The questions on his laptop screen are blurring together, burning into his eyeballs in the dim late-night light of the library and he has to blink a couple of times to refocus.

Which of the following is an effect of reflective radio frequency power?

What is the frequency of the source if the capacitive reactance is 0.06?

Compared to bipolar transistors, field effect transistors are normally characterized by what?

He knows all this. He does. Or at least, he should know all this. He should be able to do it in his sleep. He’s been doing this stuff with Tony in his lab since he was fifteen. He’s had adults telling him that he’s a genius his entire life.

So why is it so hard to think?

He just has to focus. That’s all it is. He hasn’t been putting enough work in lately, letting himself get distracted.

He takes another gulp of his Red Bull determinedly as he feels his eyes start to slip shut again.

If his hands are shaking from the caffeine as he picks up his calculator then nobody needs to know.

---

Peter glances up wildly to a tap on his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he’s gotten through four pages of his assignment questions and one more can of Red Bull.

At this point, he wonders whether it would be cheaper to kick the Red Bull habit and just take up drugs instead. Tony and May have been encouraging him to experiment in college. He thinks they probably just mean meeting new people, putting himself out there, maybe having a drink or two every so often. Drugs might be a bit extreme then.

Another tap on his shoulder.

The librarian is standing behind him. Her name’s Gale.

She really is very nice. Her greying hair and rounded glasses remind him of May’s mother that he only knew for a few years before she passed away when he was younger. She's always the one that has to ask him to leave night after night when the clock strikes midnight. Usually, he’s the only one left. Especially on a Thursday night like tonight, when everyone seems to be out partying to celebrate Friday’s imminent arrival.

Peter wonders whether May and Tony would be disappointed that all he’s really managed to accomplish in the way of meeting new people and putting himself out there is being on first name terms with the librarian.

Who's he kidding? Of course they would. He's been doing a lot more to disappoint them than just that.

“Mister Parker, you know I have to tell you to leave.”

Peter sighs. He still has at least two pages of questions left to go. “Yeah, Gale. I know. Thanks.”

She watches as he gathers his things, and as he does, her eyes sweep over the cans of the Red Bull on the desk and pointedly up towards the sign on the wall reading “Strictly NO Food or Drink.” She never explicitly mentions it and Peter’s grateful because he’s not sure how he’d make it through without the pick-me-up, but he’s sure the second he goes anywhere near her library books with it rather than just his own laptop he’ll be hearing all about it. Especially if it’s her precious history section. He swears she spends half her time arranging, then rearranging it, seemingly for the hell of it - hardly anyone ever ventures into that section of the library.

Peter sheepishly gathers all of his mess into his arms and dumps it into his unzipped backpack, along with his laptop. The metal of the empty cans clink together as he slings his bag over one shoulder.

“Get out of here and get some rest,” Gale tells him pointedly, shooing him towards the exit.

“I will,” Peter says, nodding dutifully. He hopes that he isn’t lying through his teeth. Getting some rest sounds great. A faraway and unrealistic ideal maybe, but great all the same. It’s a shame all his mind can focus on is the rest of the assignment still sitting unfinished in his laptop files. “Have a good night.”

She gives him a wave as he steps out into the cool night air and as the doors shut behind him, she turns back towards the stack of books she’d been shelving behind her desk with a sad sort of smile. She always looks just a little bit sorry for him and Peter isn’t sure why.

He’s surely far from the only student at MIT who's overestimated their own skill and fallen victim to it.

---

The thing is, Peter really just didn’t expect college to be this hard.

That sounds kind of obnoxious whenever he thinks about it. Of course, he knew MIT was going to be a challenge. That was why Tony kept pushing him for it, telling him that it would extend him and allow him to ‘spread his wings’ in a way that not many colleges would.

He just didn’t exactly expect to be spending almost every night in the library.

He didn’t expect every new assignment to feel like a new weight on his chest until suddenly it’s the middle of the semester and he can’t breathe from the stress.

He didn’t expect to be falling behind.

He could keep up in high school without even having to try. He could skip studying, go out as Spider-Man and turn up to school the next day on barely a wink of sleep and with a freshly stitched up bullet wound in his side and still ace all his tests. He had Tony and May at his side, supporting him every step of the way.

Now they’re miles and miles away and he misses them. He tries not to wallow in it. He doesn’t want to look like a fool. He definitely doesn’t want to have to return to New York with his tail between his legs and have to admit to Tony and Pepper that actually they’ve made a mistake naming him as a joint heir to Stark Industries, that he can’t even handle a basic college education let alone running an entire company - especially one that’s worth billions.

It doesn't help that all of his professors seem to know Tony either. They don’t call Peter out for turning in the odd piece of homework late or getting distracted in class like they might do for anyone else. Instead, they give him pats on the back in hallways and tell him fondly that, “Tony must be so proud of you, following in his footsteps.”

Tony wouldn’t be, though. Not if he knew how much effort Peter was having to put in to keep his head above the water.

He just wants Tony to be proud of him.

He has to work harder - that’s the only way.

---

Completely disregarding his earlier resolution, Peter falls asleep in class the next morning.

He made it through the first fifteen minutes at least. Enough time to turn in his assignment as he stepped through the doors of the lecture hall (even if he did have to stay up until four am to do it, along with the Computation Structures homework he forgot about) and find a seat.

He ends up to a girl he’s fairly sure is called Angela. He’s paired up with her for one of their classes. Nanoelectronics, maybe? He’s convinced that she harbours a very strong dislike for him (he doesn’t like to admit that it’s probably because he never really gets his share of their work done in time) but it sure beats sitting through a two-hour lecture by himself. He’s always at more of a risk of nodding off if he holes away alone in a corner of the room.

But as it turns out, even sitting next to Angela and the furious tapping of her nails against the keyboard as she struggles to get down everything from the PowerPoint at the front of the room isn’t enough to keep Peter awake.

“And now we’re going to move on to…” Peter zones out the rest of the sentence just as their lecturer is just foraying into something about electrical current. He gives in to his losing battle with consciousness and falls asleep with his head in his hands.

“... will be all for today. I’ll see you all next week.”

Peter jerks awake fifty minutes later to the sound of rustling and movement around him, hundreds of people stowing their laptops and notes away in their bags to go.

Angela is staring at him, clearly waiting for him to stow his desk back up so she can get past. He fumbles a little drowsily as he puts everything away, and as he stands she steps past him and towards the exit of the row. He stares down at his note page for today’s lecture which has nothing but the date scrawled at the top.

“Hey, wait, um, Angela?”

She turns around.

“It’s Angelica, actually.”

Peter cringes. Shit. “Sorry, I knew that, I swear,” he says, trying to sound as confident as he can. Angela (No, Angelica) cocks one eyebrow. She’s clearly seeing right through it. Peter feels his cheeks heat up. “I was just wondering whether, uh, do you reckon I could get your notes for today?”

She stares at him incredulously for a second.

“Get lost, Parker.”

---

Peter’s living in a single room this year, courtesy of Tony.

He wasn’t a massive fan of the idea at first, and at the moment he’s honestly not even sure why Tony’s bothering to pay for it when over the last month or so he’s been spending so much time in the library. He figures Tony would have been better off just forking out for a sleeping bag for him to set up under one of the tables instead (he doesn’t think Gale would like that all that much though).

It was their compromise. Peter let Tony pay for him to have a single room, and he got to carry on Spider-Manning when he’s needed. Sure, it’s not exactly the nightly patrols and throwing himself in the direction of danger every time his spidey sense so much as prickles like he might get up to in New York - but maybe that’s a good thing. At least he’s still in control. He can head out whenever if he needs to get involved, and return to patch himself up, however bloody he may be, without scaring one of his poor fellow already-stressed-out-enough-as-it-is undergraduate students.

Sure, maybe it means that everything seems a little quiet. There isn’t the sound of May’s soapy TV shows that she loves floating through from the living room or FRIDAY humming in the walls. He’s not used to the quiet, to being alone. Ned’s here though, so at least he doesn’t have to miss him. He lives a few floors down, rooming with a guy called Daniel - he’s cool enough and he doesn’t seem to mind Peter hanging around their room. Peter went to a few of the O-Week activities with them. Sometimes they all get together and play video games in the common lounge on a Saturday night.

So he’s not lonely. Definitely not.

He doesn’t even have time to think about being lonely.

It’s just sometimes, he needs to see a familiar face, and then he’s really glad that Ned’s here as well.

---

“Dude, I asked Angela - uh, no, Angelica, for her notes for that circuits lecture I just had and she just totally refused to help me. That’s like, uncalled for, right?”

Ned doesn’t even turn around at the sound of Peter’s voice as he walks straight in the door of the dorm room.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will next time, promise. But I need validation.”

Ned shrugs and spins around in his chair to face Peter. He looks well-rested, no dark circles under his eyes like Peter caught on himself in the reflection of the glass doors as he stepped into his lecture this morning. He kicks his feet up onto the bed. “Okay. Well, I need context."

Peter grimaces a little and Ned stares at him accusingly. Peter groans, taking a seat heavily at the end of Ned’s bed and throwing his head back against the wall petulantly. “She literally straight up just looked at me and was like no.”

Ned doesn’t look all that sympathetic. “Did you fall asleep in class again?”

Peter nods reluctantly. Ned thinks it over.

“I mean, it’s shit, but it’s also kinda your fault. Sorry to break it to you, but you really gotta stop doing that, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.” He groans. “Why did nobody tell us that college was going to be this hard?”

Ned’s forehead creases as if he’s trying to work something out. When he speaks, it’s slowly. “I don’t think it’s been too bad so far…”

Great. Peter’s just the stupid one then.

“Is everything going okay with you?”

Peter nods out of reflex. He’s never found anything academic difficult in his life. He can’t admit it now. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “Oh yeah, course. Just a little stressed. I keep leaving homework until the last minute, shit like that.”

Ned nods like he understands. Peter’s not sure he does.

---

“Mister Parker, could I speak to you for a minute?”

Peter’s heart begins thumping unnecessarily forcefully when his biological engineering professor calls this out as he’s leaving class a few days later.

He’s more than a little bit intimidated, to be honest. Not only is the man singling him out of the hundreds of students flooding out of their lecture hall right now, but he’s friends with Bruce. Bruce was the one who suggested he take this Ethics for Engineers paper back when he was course planning with Tony. Tony insisted that if he was going to be granted an exception to take five courses in his first semester then one of them had to be an elective - something he could kick back in a cruise through a little.

Bruce had suggested something like this, no matter how much Tony protested that he was absolutely not going to lose Peter to anything to do with biology. But Bruce said that William Nicholson was the bioengineering professor to learn from, and now here Peter is, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans before shoving them into his pockets altogether, standing in front of the man himself.

“I - uh, yes, Professor Nicholson?”

The man smiles kindly. “Call me William, Peter.”

Peter just nods stiffly. “Is everything okay?”

“I just wanted to have a quick chat with you about your grades so far. I know the first semester of college can be tricky to navigate and I’m just a little concerned about how you’re faring.”

“I’m fine,” Peter blurts, nodding his head furiously. “I’m fine, honest.”

His professor looks unconvinced. “I have to say, when Bruce Banner got into contact with me before the year started, and he told me that he knew this brilliant kid starting college and taking one of my papers, I-”

“I get it,” Peter breaks in. He doesn’t need to hear the rest. He knows he’s a disappointment. “Turns out I’m not as brilliant as everyone thinks I am.”

Professor Nicholson raises his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. “That’s not what I was going to say at all Peter. What I was going to say is that I don’t think he was wrong, not in the slightest. I think you just need to keep your head screwed on straight and maybe just pull your socks up a little, put a bit more work in.”

Put a bit more work in.

Peter doesn’t know how much he has left in him. He doesn’t know how he could physically be doing more in a day.

“I - I, um,” Peter stumbles, trying to wrap his head around the words. “Uh, okay. What can I do, how do I put more work in?”

I can’t.

He’s already spending practically every waking minute either studying, or performing the basic functions necessary for human life like eating and showering, whilst simultaneously worrying about not studying.

I can’t put any more work in. I might drown.

“I don’t know how to put this lightly. You’re getting grades for attendance but everything else so far has been handed in late, or otherwise, may I say, completed fairly mediocrely. I don’t know if others are willing to let that slide, but I for one, am not. I understand this class isn’t worth as many units as others, and you may not view it as equally important, but if you carry along this projected path you’re setting for yourself, you’ll fail this class, Peter.”

Fail.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

Peter’s never failed a class before. He’s never even failed a test (apart from once when he was in a medically induced coma after nearly drowning in the Hudson the night before but he really thinks he should have been given a make-up opportunity for that).

He can’t fail.

Peter Parker doesn’t fail. Peter Parker is a genius - that’s what everyone’s always told him. Has he been fooling the people around him for years? Tricking them into thinking he’s smarter than he is?

Starks’ definitely don’t fail. That’s a fact. Peter’s expected to run Stark Industries one day. He can’t do that with a failed class imprinted onto his college manuscript forever.

Tony will be so disappointed in him.

“I can’t - I, no. I can’t fail, s-sir. I really can’t.”

Professor Nicholson’s mouth settles into a regretful line. “You won’t, necessarily. I just thought it would be wise to warn you. I can assign you a few pieces of extra-credit work if you wish, but mostly I just need to see better work. Get a few Bs, maybe an A, and that should pull you up over the line.”

“O-Okay, I can do that.”

Can I?

“Thanks for chatting with me, Peter. I just thought you should know.”

Peter nods dumbly. He thinks maybe he stumbles out a goodbye but he’s not too sure, his breathing stuttering and catching in his throat as he hastily turns to exit the room as quickly as he can.

He’s a failure.

The hallway outside the lecture hall is full of students waiting for their next class to start. They’re all unfamiliar faces, he doesn’t recognise any of them, and he pushes his way through people. His heart is still racing in his chest.

He’s failing.

He just needs to get away, but he can’t remember where he’s going or what class he has next. His phone screen blurs in front of him when he tugs it out of his pocket, and he hopes he’s not crying because god that would be embarrassing.

His breathing quickens again. He’s panicking, he knows he is. He’s well acquainted with this feeling, the way his chest contracts and his mouth dries out and the world spins around him. The way his limbs tingle and his mind narrows in on one specific thing.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

He shoves open the door to the first bathrooms he stumbles upon, keeping his head down and hoping that he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself. He nearly knocks someone over in his rush to hide himself away inside one of the stalls, and he bumbles out a stupid sounding apology before he slumps down on a toilet seat and locks the door firmly behind him.

Nothing seems to be working as Peter screws his eyes closed and tries to force his breathing back down to a semi-normal rate and ease the ache in his chest. The word failure keeps floating around in his head, emblazoned to the front of his mind. He may as well have it tattooed on his forehead.

The only semi-coherent thought he can conjure up in his panic-addled mind is that maybe he isn’t cut out for this after all.

He has to admit, that when he finally unlocks the toilet stall half an hour later and gets a good look at himself in the mirror, he’s a certified mess. Red blotchy cheeks, puffy eyes standing out against the dark circles underneath them, his hair manic from tugging it in his grip.

He even looks like a failure.

---

The only reason Peter leaves his room for the dining hall later that night is because he’s run out of ramen and microwave burritos.

He’s had a reminder scrawled on his whiteboard since last week to pencil in time to go grocery shopping, but he’s spent day after day ignoring said reminder so he’s landed himself in this situation. Out of venturing down the road to the grocery store or just across the quad to the dining hall, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

It would be kind of nice to not be alone right now, but Ned and Daniel ate earlier - or at least that’s what Ned said when Peter had sent him a text to ask half an hour ago. The two of them did used to invite Peter to the dining hall with them. They’d all meet at the front doors of the hall and go together, but they stopped a while ago when Peter started declining the invitations more than he was accepting them. He doesn’t blame them, really.

He’s just pushing the doors open, the smell of buffet chicken tenders hitting his nose when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, hoping that maybe it’s the email with his extra-credit assignments from Professor Nicholson. He could add that to his already extensive to-do list for tonight.

Instead, it’s just a text from Tony.

Is now an okay time to call?

An emotion that Peter can’t quite figure out settles heavily at the pit of his stomach. Maybe it’s something akin to dread. Either way, he’s suddenly not all that hungry. Tony can read him like an open book - even over the phone. Speaking to him is an absolute no go.

I’m having dinner. Talk later, he types out in reply, before glancing back over it and adding a :) for good measure at the end. He hits send and turns his phone off. He tells himself he has too much work to do tonight to afford being distracted, anyway.

---

His phone rings again the next morning as he’s walking to class, interrupting the music he’s got blaring from his headphones.

He’s running on an hour of sleep. He got a head start on the coding for his algorithms class and finished half of the extra-credit work that Professor Nicholson emailed through to him. It would have been easier if Peter could concentrate without the pen he was gripping trembling the whole time with his pent-up nerves, but he thinks he managed to do an okay job.

He glances down at the screen blearily and isn’t at all surprised to see Tony’s name flashing across the top. The man didn’t even bother to text first this time.

Peter hits decline and types out another text.

Heading into class rn, sorry

He presses play on his music again and wonders how he’s going to stay awake in class without it.

---

Tony calls for the third time when Peter’s lying in bed a couple of nights later.

He has a pile of work waiting for him on his desk, but he’s so beyond tired at this point that he figured a quick nap can’t hurt before he sits down and starts to work through it all. He might even head down to the library. He hasn’t seen Gale in a few days, and the guy in the room next door to his has been arguing with his girlfriend on the phone for an hour now.

He doesn’t even have an excuse to text Tony tonight.

Friday nights are the one night he left wide open - when he doesn’t have night labs or study groups or some extracurricular that he signed up for at activities fair but hasn’t found time to attend in weeks. He did that on purpose, so that Friday’s were the night that he could let loose and have fun.

He misses the days when he’d been optimistic enough to think that would even be a possibility.

Peter knows that Tony knows that he’s free right now. Pepper texted him a photo a few weeks ago of a copy of his own college timetable taped to the fridge at the lake house.

He wants so badly to talk to Tony - to pick up the phone and hear that comforting voice that he’s been missing. But he can’t.

He’s a failure. Tony wouldn’t even want to talk to him if he knew that the kid he’s entrusting his entire company - the one he’s completely turned around with his bare hands and sheer will - can’t even handle one of the most necessary of human experiences: college.

He hits decline and shoves his phone under his pillow.

---

“You need to call Tony.”

Peter groans. It was a refreshing change when his phone rang this morning and it was May’s name instead of Tony’s, and he picked it up because Ned’s gone home for the weekend and honestly he’s just really starting to miss human contact. The last he had was ten hours ago when Gale ushered him out of the library with a warm pat on the shoulder and a warning that Red Bull will rot his teeth before he hits twenty-one.

Now, once he realises what the call is about, he’s kind of regretting picking it up in the first place.

“Morning to you too,” Peter grumbles as he paces impatiently back and forth in front of his microwave waiting for his breakfast burrito to be done. He finally made a trip to the grocery store yesterday.

“I’m serious Peter,” May says. “Why am I getting agitated texts from Tony every hour telling me that you’re ignoring him and asking if I’ve heard from you yet? You know I love him but there’s only so much Tony I can handle at a time. I have no idea how Pepper does it.”

“I’m not ignoring him… I just haven’t had the time.”

May hums a sort of disapproving sound like she doesn’t quite believe him.

“I’m not! Seriously,” Peter protests. “I’m busy, that’s all it is. Tony’s just reading too much into things. You know what he’s like.”

“Well, you need to find time in your incredibly busy college student schedule of partying and studying to call him, okay? I’m worried he’s constantly about one step away from getting in the car and kidnapping you to bring you back here himself.”

Peter groans.

“Not that I would mind that at all,” May continues. “I haven’t seen you since when, your birthday?”

“I’ll be home soon, I promise. I just gotta get all my work done first.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” May tells him. Peter can practically hear the smile on her face and he misses her so much. “Call Tony. And I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will. Love you too.”

---

Conveniently, Peter’s much too busy to get around to calling Tony for the rest of the day - or at least that’s what he tells himself. He turns his phone off anyway, just in case. Distractions are extremely unwelcome right now.

He ends up holed in the library by two in the afternoon, attempting to finish his extra-credit work and study for his nanoelectronics quiz.

He has a panic attack at seven when he realises that there’s no way he’s going to get any of this done in time. He can barely even read the words in front of him in his textbook, his brain jumbling them together, unable to sort the information into anything vaguely coherent.

Gale brings him out a cup of tea from the staffroom at eleven, despite her own ‘no food or drink’ signs she enjoys pointing out to Peter. It’s warm and comforting, and for a second Peter can almost pretend that he’s at home instead of sitting in the corner of a soulless college library.

By the time she has to send him back to his dorm at midnight, the cup of tea is empty in front of him and his eyes are drooping but his list of work he still has to get done seems just as long as when he started.

---

Peter feels like his entire life is just stuck on loop.

He gets up, drags himself to lectures and labs, sits in class and tries not to fall asleep, takes notes, does homework, studies for tests, steals as much sleep as he can in-between all that and then does it all again.

Sometimes, he catches himself thinking about Muffin, the pet hamster his elementary class used to have. Shy and quiet Peter would always end up by himself sitting at the table at the back of the classroom no one else wanted to sit at. It was next to Muffin’s cage though, and whenever he inevitably finished his work early he’d just sit, enthralled and watch the hamster run around and around on its neon green running wheel.

He feels a bit like that at the moment. Always running, not really getting anywhere. Except, he keeps tripping, struggling, can’t quite manage to pull himself back up onto his feet.

He’s leaving a lab that afternoon, still feeling like poor old Muffin on the running wheel because he can barely remember anything that was said and he knows he’s going to have to go back and re-read the entire chapter later tonight, when he hears excited murmuring around him.

He pays it no mind at first. The only thing he’s focused on is heading back to his dorm to grab a granola bar as a late breakfast. He didn’t have time to eat anything before he rushed out the door this morning.

Then, he hears a familiar name.

“Dude! My roommate just texted me, he said they saw Tony Stark walking across the quad.”

Peter freezes. His brain short-circuits a little bit but he snaps himself out of his thoughts to try and rejoin the physical world around him to hear what’s going on. The chattering continues.

“No way. Do you reckon he’s doing a lecture?”

“Someone else I know said they saw him getting out of a car like an hour ago.”

If he shows up to one of his lectures this afternoon and Tony’s standing up there, guest lecturing or some shit, like he always threatened to when he was wallowing on about how much he was going to miss Peter when he left for college, Peter might actually die.

When May mentioned that Tony was on the verge of coming up here himself, Peter didn’t think she was being serious.

Someone nudges him in the side as he grabs for the door handle, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get out of the building - but also cautious of venturing anywhere he could run into Tony.

“Hey, Parker. You know Tony Stark, right?”

Peter glances around. He doesn’t even recognise the guy that’s asking him. He wonders whether he should know his name as well.

“I, uh, yeah I do,” he manages to get out as eloquently as he can manage. “No idea what he’s doing here though,” he adds.

Secretly, as much as he doesn't want to think about it, he thinks he might have a fair idea.

Tony must know Peter's failing.

Professor Nicholson could have spoken to Bruce. Bruce probably would have told Tony. That's the only possible reason.

What if Tony’s only been trying to get hold of him to tell him how disappointed he is in him, how he knows now that he’s made a mistake naming Peter as one of his heirs? What if he wants Peter gone, never wants to be associated with someone who doesn’t even have the brains to pass his first-year college elective?

Somewhere in the back of his brain, Peter knows he must be overthinking. Tony loves him. He shouldn't be feeling this insecure about their relationship at this point. But even knowing this, it doesn't help the fact that Peter really doesn’t want to have to face him. If he could go forever not having to see Tony and own up to his horrifically embarrassing failures then he would. But somehow, he’s pretty certain that Tony will never let that happen.

Tony’s always been able to smell his mistakes from a mile off.

It used to be a good thing. It used to keep him safe. Now though, as he makes the first few tentative steps along the pavement that will eventually lead him straight to his dorm it just makes Peter feel like he’s headed off to the gallows.

The inevitable death of Tony’s pride in him.

---

He’s expecting it, knows what’s waiting for him behind his door when he makes it back to his dorm, but it still shocks him back a little, jarring to see Tony perched on the edge of his stupidly uncomfortable single bed. He’s in jeans and a sweater, nothing ostentatious, baseball cap and sunglasses he’d obviously had on resting on top of the nightstand. Clearly, he still managed to get recognised anyway and Peter’s sort of glad. It gave him a bit of a heads up even if he still feels woefully prepared to face the man that he’s been dodging calls from all week.

“W-What? Tony, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter stammers. He tears his eyes away from Tony and he can’t bear to look back, focusing on the ground instead, how the fraying carpet scuffs beneath his shoes.

Tony makes a small sort of surprised noise. “That’s not exactly the greeting I was hoping for, but I guess I can't exactly expect much when you’ve been ignoring me all week.”

“M’not ignoring you,” Peter mumbles in reply. He wishes Tony would just cut to the chase. They both know why he’s here. The longer he stands here in the doorway the more he feels like his heart’s about to explode out of his chest from how rapidly it’s beating. He knows Tony’s disappointed in him. He just needs to hear it so he can start forcing himself to come to terms with it.

He hopes he doesn’t cry. His eyes are already aching whenever he blinks from all the late nights and time staring at his laptop.

“You blowing off every one of my calls kinda sent me a different message,” Tony says, clearly trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “I was a little worried. Thought I better get up here, see how my favourite college student is going. Make sure you hadn’t gotten too carried away with Spidey and bled out on the floor of your dorm by yourself. Oh no - wait. I didn’t have to worry about that, because you picked up May’s calls. Just not mine.”

Peter’s cheeks heat up at being so blatantly called out. Tony still doesn’t sound mad yet. Just confused. A little hurt, maybe. He didn’t mean to hurt Tony.

“I just couldn’t… I dunno. Couldn’t speak to you. Not right now.”

The confusion on Tony’s face deepens. “Any reason why?”

Peter takes a closer look at Tony’s face. How can he not know? Why else would Tony be here if he genuinely doesn’t know about Peter’s college fuck ups, if he’s not here to break the news that Stark Industries can’t ever be linked with someone like him?

If Tony doesn’t know, somehow, then he can’t find out. “I can’t tell you. I can’t,” Peter stammers out.

Tony stares at him, eyes studying him carefully. Peter squirms under his gaze, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He still hasn’t stepped forward out of the doorway, but when a few people walk through the hall outside and crane their heads to peer in, he takes the smallest step forward he can manage and closes the door behind him with a thud.

He feels a lot more closed in now, just him and Tony in his tiny shoebox of a dorm.

“I thought we weren’t doing secrets anymore?” Tony asks. “Open communication, healthy family relationships? All the shit my therapist said to me after the snap. I know yours said the same.”

Peter worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He hopes Tony can’t see the way he’s shaking. For a split second, he toys with the idea of just telling him. Taking a deep breath and spilling everything, the fact that he’s failing his biological engineering class and that he can’t handle college. That he misses everyone at home like crazy, he’s lonely all the time and he feels like his mental health has taken a dramatic nosedive off a cliff.

But he doesn’t. The words feel heavy in his dry mouth. Instead, all that comes out is a sharp, “can we not do this?”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words leave his mouth, but Tony doesn’t push harder or demand that he spill. Instead, the man just shrugs. “Okay. If that’s what you want. I didn’t drive all this way to argue, so if you don’t want to talk about it then we won’t.”

Peter practically reels back in surprise. He suddenly feels bad for losing his cool. “Um, okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just-”

“But you know what we do have to talk about?” Tony cuts in, waving off Peter’s awkward apology. “The state of this room. I thought I was paying for a single room, not for you to make the place so filthy that you could adopt a herd of cockroaches and rodents as roommates. I hope you’re charging them rent.”

“I’ve been busy,” is all Peter has to offer. Then, frowning, he adds, “and there aren’t rodents in here.” He takes another tentative step forward into the room just as Tony leans down to toe an empty ramen cup out from under the bed. His nose wrinkles in disgust.

“What, too busy to take the two seconds to put your trash where it belongs?” he says, leaning over to his right to toss the cup into the garbage can by the door. “See? Didn’t even need to get off the bed.”

“Show off,” Peter mutters.

Tony grins at the snark. “Seriously, when was the last time you actually opened your eyes and looked at this place, Pete?”

Peter’s not sure. Usually, he’s far too preoccupied to be concerned with something as mundane as what sort of living standard he’s upholding in his dorm room. But when he does look around, there are more ramen cups everywhere, stacked on top of rare free surfaces, peeking out from under furniture. Scattered graphing paper screwed up into tight balls litter the carpet. His duvet is scrunched up in the corner of the room after he spilt coffee on it the other night and never got round to washing it. It’s been a bit cold the past few nights but whatever.

“Did you come all the way here to pick apart my room? Because we could have just video called for that.”

“You wouldn’t have picked up,” Tony says plainly.

“Wait, no, I-”

“Nope. No excuses. I came to see what was going on, whether I could help with anything,” he explains. “And I have found my calling - elevating you up out of this filth.”

“I don’t know if I have time for this, Tony. I have things to do. Assignments, lots of assignments.”

“You can spare half an hour, kid.”

Peter relents.

---

It doesn’t actually even end up taking them that long. They clear out the mess of granola bar and burrito wrappers, ramen cups, old receipts and scrap paper that he’s let accumulate on the floor. Vacuum the carpet. Tidy the explosion of books and worksheets covering his desk. Make the bed - something Peter isn’t even sure he’s done since he first took the sheets out of their pack and put them on the mattress on his first night.

In the end, all it takes the two of them is twenty minutes and a couple of trips down to the trash chute at the end of the hall.

It puts Peter’s racing mind at ease a little bit, the monotony of it all, and as he tugs a final stray sock out from the bottom of his wardrobe to chuck into his laundry hamper, everything slips out and he reveals what he was so sure he desperately wanted to keep a secret.

It's probably been Tony’s plan this whole time, honestly.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this, Tony.”

Tony looks up from where he’s shoving one of Peter’s windows open to let some air in. The hinges on it squeak as he does. “Cut out for what exactly? You mean cleaning? Because I’m with you on that one, bud, but this place really needed-”

“No, not that,” Peter says. He might laugh if he wasn’t so nervous. “This whole, um, this college thing.”

“What makes you say that?” Tony’s turned to face him now, leaning up against Peter’s desk in a fashion that Peter suspects is entirely faux-nonchalance.

“I just can’t do it. I suck at it.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony holds his hands up. “Slow it down there a little, kid. You don’t suck at it. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to not be able to do absolutely anything you put your mind to.”

Peter hates that. That is entirely his problem. So he tells Tony so. “That’s the whole thing though. Everyone thinks I’m super smart, like I’m meant to be flying through college, just like you did but I’m not. I can’t get anything right. I’m failing, Tony. Failing.”

Confusion is written all over Tony’s face. “Failing, what exactly?” he asks carefully. Peter bites down on his lip again. It’s already feeling kind of ragged. This was probably a mistake.

“My bioengineering paper. The ethics one.”

Tony furrows his eyebrows. His head cocks to one side a little as he thinks and Peter wonders whether he even realises he’s doing it. “Okay…” he sinks down back onto the newly-made bed, creasing the covers a little bit. “You wanna come sit down here for a minute? Have a chat?”

“I, uh, I think I’m good here.” Peter can’t bear the thought of letting himself get close only to be pushed away.

Tony shakes his head. There’s disappointment on his face, but not the kind that Peter was expecting. More like disappointment that Peter had even thought Tony would be mad in the first place, but he doesn’t quite understand that. How could Tony not be upset? He’s trying his best to live up to everything wonderful about Tony Stark but he keeps falling short. He’s still just unlucky old Peter Parker.

“Get over here,” Tony says, but his words aren’t commanding. They’re reassuring. He pats the space beside him, and Peter makes the few short steps to perch himself next to Tony. The man wraps a steady arm around his shoulders. Peter tries to force himself to stay upright, back stiff. He can’t just lean into every touch that he gets from Tony, no matter how much he’s missed having him close. He’s not a kid anymore, after all. He’s a college student.

“Is this why you were ignoring me?”

“I dunno,” Peter mumbles. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

Tony squeezes the nape of his neck gently and all of Peter’s resolve disappears. He crumbles against Tony’s side.

“I can’t do it, Tony. I can’t. I’m trying so hard, I promise. I spend like, every night in the library and I barely even sleep anymore trying to keep up but I just can’t. Every time I sit down it’s like I just freak out and I can’t concentrate.”

“Can’t concentrate how?”

“I’m just worried about everything all the time. Worried I won’t get things done on time. Worried I’m not smart enough to even do the work. Worried about impressing my professors… worried about impressing you,” Peter adds finally, under his breath.

Tony’s arm tightens around his shoulder at this, and he stares down at him with a sort of understanding dawning across his face that Peter can’t quite make sense of. “Have you been taking your meds?”

That throws Peter a little. Taking his meds? He’s not sick.

“It’s not like, the flu or something,” he says blatantly, not quite sure how Tony got it this wrong. “It’s all the time. I’m not sick, I don’t have an excuse. I’m just not smart enough for this.”

“No, no, no. Not like that, sorry,” Tony says gently. “Has it occurred to you that maybe your anxiety might be acting up?”

Peter frowns, shaking his head. They sorted out all the issues he was having with his anxiety a few months after the reversal of the snap. He took the medication that Tony and Bruce synthesized for him for a while and that was that. Nothing overly traumatic in his life has happened since then. He shouldn’t need them anymore. He’s better.

“No, no, that was just when I got back from the snap. This is just college. Everyone does college.”

Tony takes a second to consider his words. When he speaks, it's careful and calm. “I’m no expert, bud, but your anxiety isn’t just going to disappear like that. It’ll come and go. Plus, sure, you’re right. Everyone does college-” Peter’s stomach knots nervously as Tony says that. He can’t help but feel that any moment now will be the moment that Tony turns around and tells him that he should be better. “-But, not everyone does college with as much pressure on their shoulders as you put on yourself. That’s a Peter Parker exclusive. You don’t have to be the best at everything all the time.”

“I do. You were. How am I ever going to take over Stark Industries one day like you want me to if I can’t even pass Ethics in Engineering? Bruce told me to take that as a fun paper.”

Tony winces at that. They really should have phrased it better.

“You don’t want to know how many classes I failed because I was too constantly hungover for even Rhodey to force me out of bed, Pete. The real world isn’t dependent on passing or failing. One class isn’t going to matter, even if I’ve got total faith in your ability to turn it all around before the end of the semester,” Tony says. Then he pauses. He looks over at Peter again and Peter can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Unless college isn’t something you want to do? Because it isn’t for everyone. You don’t need a degree, not really. You can already outrun me in the lab and Pep could teach you double the stuff you'd need to know about the business side in half the time, probably.”

“No, I want to do this. I do,” Peter says after a moment. He’s telling the truth. He wants a degree, he wants to see this through and come out the other side - just preferably not feeling like he does now. “I just wanted to make you proud of me at the same time. I... I've really messed that part up. How can you be proud of a failure?”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath at Peter’s words. His face twists like they've physically hurt him. “See, now I can see where we’ve gone wrong here. I’m always proud of you. Completely unconditionally and unequivocally. You don’t need to graduate as valedictorian to make me proud. All I want you to do is grow up into the best man you’re capable of being and you’re already doing that, buddy - far too quickly for my liking, I might add. You’ll be taller than me soon.”

“That’s not hard,” Peter murmurs before he can help himself and Tony snorts.

“There he is. Hijacking my sappy dad speech to make a cheap joke about my height. I see how it is.”

---

Peter sits cross-legged on his neatly-made bed later that night.

Tony’s sitting on the desk chair on the other side of the room, thumbing through his phone. “I’m ordering pizza. I’m not braving a college dining hall, I’ve been there, done that, and you need a proper meal. You want pepperoni?”

“I’m kinda feeling a Hawaiian tonight, to be honest.”

“You disgust me,” Tony retorts immediately but he returns his attention to his phone anyway, likely doing exactly as Peter’s asked.

He reaches over to grab the nanoelectronics textbook from his bedside table where he’d left it last night, all his unfinished work still piling up in the front of his mind, despite Tony’s reassuring presence. Before he can draw it off the nightstand and into his lap though, Tony’s hand closes around his wrist and shoves it away. He gathers the textbook up into his own arms and adds it to the neat pile they formed on his desk while they were cleaning.

“I kinda need those,” Peter protests. All he gets in response from Tony is a stern shake of the head.

“Not right now you don’t. Not a chance. What you need is a nap. I’m gonna sort through this and figure out a game plan for us to tackle all of this tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter protests, no matter how appealing it sounds to have someone by his side to help him sort through the slog of his schoolwork. He wonders whether this is what it would have been like if he didn’t inadvertently shut Ned out in favour of desperately trying to get everything done.

“What? You think I’m just gonna sit around and watch you flail about and try to sort it yourself? What sort of parent would that make me?”

Once upon a time, maybe that word would have made the two of them freeze uncomfortably. Even now, they just stare at each other for a long moment. They’re family, indisputably, but even then the whole 'parent' word doesn’t get thrown around a whole lot. Peter thinks Tony’s still scared of stepping on the toes of dead people. Personally, he’s sure his parents would be glad that he’s got people in his corner apart from just May looking out for him. Especially Tony. Tony does a good job of it.

“I guess you’re right,” Peter offers. “That would probably make you a pretty shitty parent.”

Tony grins, tinted with relief. “You got that right. So I wanna see that head on that uncomfortable looking pillow of yours for a little while, okay?” Tony commands, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Peter’s temple. “Just sleep.”

Peter does.

---

By the time Peter’s woken up by the smell of takeaway pizza filling the small space, Tony’s used his class planner and assignment schedule to organise his workbooks into piles of urgency on his desk - what needs to be completed right now and what can wait. He’s also listed everything on the whiteboard and is in the middle of removing every single can of Red Bull from Peter’s minifridge.

“Hey,” Peter grumbles blearily. “Mine.”

“Nope. Not anymore. They’ll rot your teeth. If you need your caffeine fix then just drink coffee like a real man. None of this sugary rubbish.” Tony tosses the four cans he has in his hands into the trash and reaches back in to grab the last few.

Peter snickers. “You sound like Gale.”

“Who the hell is Gale?”

“Our elderly librarian. She’s very nice.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re on a first-name basis with the librarian?" Tony asks incredulously. "And second of all, I entirely resent being compared to someone you labelled as elderly, thank you very much.”

Peter grins. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

“I’ve changed my mind all of a sudden. I haven’t missed you at all.” Tony's words are punctuated with an affectionate ruffle of Peter’s hair, and Peter knows that he doesn’t actually mean a word of it.

For the first time since this tiny little dorm room has become his home, he can breathe. Tony’s here.

Everything is always okay when Tony’s here.

#irondad #irondad fic #febuwhump #febufluff #my writing #pls enjoy this it's a direct result of my own uni stress lmao

75 notes · View notes

bad-at-names-and-faces · 5 years ago

Text

Decisions

Chapter 26 chapter index

Arendelle, September 23rd, 1864

Dear Henry,

I got your letter this week, and I would have replied several days ago, but I’ve been quite busy covering for my mother, who seems to have gone into hiding. All is well, so they tell me, and I really have no idea what's going on, but Frederick and I have been picking up the slack. When I saw Mother today she even wanted me to attend some of the meetings for her. This morning’s meeting will be with your Mr. Meyer, so perhaps you'll hear about it later. There's been some fuss about the naval pensions we pay to Corona, but it sounded like the issue was settled so I really don't know why my mother still seems to care. Oh, and one of our other ambassadors disappeared into the wilds of America.

I look forward to hearing more from you, and I'll write more when I have time again!

Sincerely,

Inga

Inga paused as she was addressing the letter. She looked outside and walked out to the balcony.

She looked around and whispered, "Gale?"

***

“It’s strange going so long without talking to anyone else,” Elizabeth remarked.

“We’ve had someone delivering food to us,” Lars reminded her.

“Oh, you know what I mean. But I suppose that delivery boy would have told us if anything exciting happened,” she sighed, resting her head on his chest. “He certainly was eager to tell us about the issue with the mislabeled fish at the market the other day. We weren’t even getting any fish!”

“I remember my mother telling a story about Father yelling at someone he had hired on his ship for trying to tell him he had caught a more expensive kind of fish,” Lars laughed a little.

“It’s so funny, back home, I was just wanting to hide away and find a quiet moment, and here I am, nervous that I’m missing something.”

“I understand,” he laughed. “I keep expecting Mr. Meyer to come through the door and ask me why I’m not ready for today’s meeting.”

“I think your brother is quite competent, in his own way,” Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose your mother enjoys having him around an extra week or two. I know Father was planning to sail off the day after our wedding.”

“She has been catching up with him, that’s true,” Lars smiled. “Do you mind that you won’t get to go with your mother and sisters? I know you haven’t seen your aunt in Wesselton in quite some time.”

“No, that’s not a problem, really,” Elizabeth sighed. “Mother isn’t particularly close to her, even, but it was Father’s next stop.”

“I remember Karl saying there were plans to take the Maldonian prince on to Wesselton if he didn’t decide to stay longer in Arendelle.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I can only think of one reason he wouldn’t be sure about how long he stays on here, and I’m pretty sure he’ll be sailing right on schedule.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this gossip. What do you know?”

“Really, the only thing I’d really call gossip was from my own sisters,” Elizabeth grumbled. “I was half afraid that Inga would never want to talk to me again after my sisters were pestering her about getting engaged to Prince Henry. Inga didn’t even get a full day in Corona before those girls were making assumptions.”

It was Lars’s turn to laugh. “What did happen while you were there? I don’t think you finished telling me.”

“Well, I already told you what happened that first day, with the saddle,” she smiled, sitting up again. “Now, never speak a word of this to anyone else, but… I’m not surprised there were rumors the morning after that ball.”

Lars sat up and gave Elizabeth a puzzled look.

“Now, don’t get me wrong. As far as I know, Inga is technically correct,” she insisted. “There’s no engagement, or any official agreement, and I’d never want to be the source of rumors about that. I told my sisters to mind their own business. But… she and Prince Henry got along rather well, I thought, especially after the footman brought out the extra bottle of sherry.”

“What about you?” he asked with a teasing look.

“You know I can’t stand sherry,” she swatted him gently. “I think I was the only one there who stopped at wine with dinner.”

OoOoO

“Your Excellency,” Inga greeted Mr. Meyer as she entered the room.

“Your Highness,” he returned with a small bow.

“And…” she hesitated, “how should I greet Lieutenant Nilsen this week?”

“I think Lieutenant Nilsen will work,” the Ambassador chuckled. “We wouldn’t want too much confusion with his brother.”

“I don’t think there’s much risk of that,” Inga smiled politely.

The Lieutenant laughed. “Should we offer congratulations, Your Highness?”

“What?” Inga exclaimed, barely holding her temper. She didn’t want to sound defensive, but every question and insinuation reminded her how much of her life people considered their own business. “If there’s been an official announcement, I’d like to know.”

The Ambassador shot a glance at his temporary secretary. “Your Highness, you will excuse the lieutenant. He hasn’t had his brother’s training. There has, of course, been no announcement, official or otherwise, from either court.”

“Indeed,” Inga sighed. “May I ask where you heard this?”

“Sorry,” the lieutenant apologized sincerely. “Don’t blame my brother, or Elizabeth. Neither of them said a word, but I did hear her sisters talking at the reception, and nobody seemed to contradict them.” “I’m sure His Excellency will be sure to contradict any unsubstantiated rumors,” Inga said dryly, looking directly at the Ambassador.

“I assure you, Your Highness,” the Ambassador replied, almost sheepishly.

“Very well,” Inga replied. “We were going to discuss steamship service?”

***

“Anna, sending Lars? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“If you can think of a better idea, let me know. The fact is, the actual requirements for the position of ambassador are almost nonexistent. The only time we didn’t bother refilling a position was when our ambassador to the Southern Isles conveniently left his post twenty-one years ago.”

“But does it have to be right away? They’ve been at war for how many years now? This doesn’t seem like the time to be sending someone over there, does it?”

“Is it the time to leave the position empty?”

“But him? Lars and Elizabeth are young, and I don’t know what the foreign newspapers are saying, but it doesn’t sound safe.”

“Then we don’t send him to the capital. It’s not like Arendelle has proper embassies anywhere.”

“What about the draft riots?”

“Those were last year. Things sound safe enough now… Well, away from the battles, of course, but he wouldn’t be drafted, since he would have diplomatic immunity.”

“Fine, what’s to stop him from taking a farm just like the last one?”

“And if he does?”

***

“Olaf?” Inga said as she approached the stables.

“Inga! Hi! What are you doing here?”

She glared a moment, then softened. “Have you seen Elsa?”

“No, why?”

“Well…” Inga paused. “Actually, I think maybe you could help me.”

“Okay! What?”

“This summer, you started telling us about the time that Papa was going rock climbing with the prince from Corona...”

“Yeah? And?”

“Prince Henry, in Corona, was telling me that Papa took his father to see the trolls because, well, everyone else was gone at Christmas. I don’t remember hearing about that before. Were you there?”

“Oh, the time Anna and Elsa and that princess from Corona were on that trip?”

“Yes.”

“I went to the North Mountain to see Marshmallow.”

“Oh,” Inga sighed. “And were Mama and Elsa really gone long?"

"No,” Olaf replied, matter-of-fact. “Elsa was back a few months earlier, and then she left again when that Eugene guy left."

“Wait, what? Where was my mother that whole time?”

“I think she was in Corona. She didn’t want to talk about it. You know, you’d think if she spent that long somewhere, she’d at least talk about it, don’t you?”

***

Frederick was expecting to see Peder and Anton waiting when he arrived for dinner. He was not expecting to see his parents there for the first time in five days, especially since he hadn't seen them when Elsa had left that morning.

“Mother? Father? You’re feeling better?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” his father replied, looking uneasily at Anna.

“I’m glad to hear it!” Frederick began excitedly. “When I was talking to Admiral Sorensen this morning, he said he thinks I could do a short training run in April.”

“Training run? With our Admiral?” his mother exclaimed, sounding panicked. “What’s this about?”

“Um,” Frederick muttered. “You said it would be fine when I asked.”

“Did I?” Anna looked at Kristoff. “Did we?”

“Yes, when I brought you that letter about the American Ambassador,” Frederick groaned.

“Are you sure?” Anna asked.

“I’m pretty sure you told me you were fine with it,” Frederick insisted, “unless you were talking about something else.”

Anna and Kristoff looked at each other. Frederick wished they would have told him before if they had a problem with the idea but he held back from complaining more. The admiral had been enthusiastic when Frederick had told him that his mother approved, and he knew that it wouldn’t look good for her to walk back on that.

“Oh, so, have you figured anything out with that?” Frederick asked.

“Figured out what?” Inga echoed as she walked in.

“The American Ambassador,” he reminded his sister.

“Of course,” Inga replied. “Do you have any idea what you’ll do about that, or are you just going to wait until they’re done fighting over there?”

“See?” Kristoff whispered a little too loudly to Anna.

Inga looked curiously between them, then raised her eyebrows at Frederick.

Anna spoke up. “I haven’t met with the council yet, and I’ll need to speak with Mr. Meyer, of course-”

“Why would you need to speak to Mr. Meyer?” Inga asked, then frowned. “Wait, he’d need to approve if you’re picking Lars? Why him, though?”

“He seemed like a good candidate,” Anna stated.

“We discussed it,” Kristoff added. “The timing might be an issue. We’d have to wait until a replacement arrives from Corona, at the very least.”

“Do you think Corona will even agree to it?” Frederick asked, “I mean, Lars is part of their diplomatic corps-”

“And he’ll have to agree,” Inga pointed out. “You can’t just send him off to a place like that. And what about his mother?”

Frederick nodded. “Really, wouldn’t it make more sense to ask if anyone in the council has a candidate? I mean, sure, his mother is from Arendelle, but that doesn’t seem like a good reason to pick him over someone else.”

“Well,” Anna said, biting her lip, “like I said, it’s not settled. So until it is, let’s drop the subject, and have dinner.”

***

Anna closed her eyes and knocked at the door on the guest wing. It opened slowly.

“Your Majesty!” Mrs. Nilsen exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you.”

“May I come in?” Anna whispered, trying to hide her nervousness.

“Of course!” Mrs. Nilsen stepped back to let Anna in, carefully closing the door behind her.

"Elsa told me," was all that Anna managed.

"I know," Mrs. Nilsen replied, offering a chair. "I was wondering whether you would come to me."

"I… I suppose I should say thank you," Anna sighed as she sat down.

"It never felt like a duty," the woman assured her. "He's always been a delightful child. Karl would have grown up very lonely otherwise, even if we had stayed in Arendelle."

“But you were… you were practically in exile for twenty years,” Anna said, looking away.

“They were very good to us. And I do understand why it had to be that way.”

“You do? I thought-”

“No,” Mrs. Nilsen confessed quickly, “nobody told me anything until your sister came to Corona last month, but it was obvious.”

“How much did you figure out?”

“I think I know everything,” she sighed. “And I have never spoken a word of it to anyone else, except your sister. I don’t think it would do anyone any good to know. When I was talking with your sister back in Corona last month, I…I mentioned him. I think you know who I mean. The look on her face, I knew I’d guessed correctly.”

“What… how did you guess?”

“I wasn’t always sure about it. But I kept up with news from Arendelle, and I read about your family here. I knew there had to be a reason. For several years I had prepared myself for someone to come claim him.”

Anna sighed and looked out the window for several minutes. She still didn’t feel comfortable talking about this, particularly with Mrs. Nilsen of all people. She hoped she was being completely honest about being happy with her life the last twenty years. Elsa had told her that Margit was planning to move back to Arendelle permanently, so Anna needed to bring up her plan before any official decisions were made.

“I need to ask another question.”

***

“Your Majesty, this is a most unusual choice.”

“Do you have any other suggestions, Your Grace?” she replied to the duke.

The council members mumbled quietly to each other. A few were gesturing, most ended up shrugging. There was some half whispered discussion of alternative candidates, but most agreed this was not where they would want to send friends and relations any time soon.

“He is very young,” one of the guild masters pointed out.

“I realize it is a bit unorthodox, perhaps? But he is qualified.”

They settled on her Majesty's proposal. Pending agreement from Corona, and the arrival of a replacement secretary for their ambassador, the council approved the nomination of Lars Nilsen for Arendelle’s Ambassador to America. The council decided to hold off on discussing where, exactly, to send him until a later date.

***

It was a cool morning in late September. Mr. Meyer looked at his diary. Today was the day his private secretary was to be returning from his honeymoon. He had been forced into granting him the leave. He looked out his window into the town. It was still early morning, and he imagined that the young couple would not want to leave until after breakfast. The young man’s brother had nice enough penmanship, but he seemed to have no sense of decorum. And now he had heard from his old friend on the council that he would need to find a new secretary. Lars Nilsen had some explaining to do.

***

Lars and Elizabeth returned to Arendelle just before lunchtime that Tuesday. The Ambassador was waiting for them just inside the castle gate. The couple were disappointed, but not surprised that Lars was being called back to his duties so quickly after their arrival.

“Your Excellency!” Lars called out as he walked towards Mr. Meyer.

“Mr. Nilsen, I need you to come with me,” Mr. Meyer said sternly.

“May my wife and I unpack first?” Lars asked, looking over at Elizabeth and smiling, feeling some satisfaction in being able to use those words.

Elizabeth smiled and walked over, taking his arm. “Your Excellency,” she greeted the Ambassador, who nodded in return.

“On second thought,” the Ambassador hemmed, “I think she may as well hear what I need to tell you. You can unpack later.”

They followed the Ambassador inside and up to his quarters. Once they were both inside, the Ambassador closed the door behind him.

“Mr. Nilsen,” he began with a sternness that went beyond his typical formality, “I had understood that you hadn’t learned very much about your family connections here.”

“That is true, sir,” Lars replied.

“And your mother, she hasn’t said anything since she arrived?”

“No, sir, she showed us the house where she used to live. It was a very tiny one by the harbor. She told me none of the men working by the docks were anyone she remembered, and nobody seemed to remember her. Halima did, a little bit, but she was, as I expected, a friendly acquaintance, and nothing more.”

“And,” the Ambassador probed, “the former queen…”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Lars responded with some confusion, not certain where his employer’s line of questioning was leading. “I’m only aware that she was acquainted with her."

"If I may," Elizabeth interrupted, "she paid several visits to Mrs. Nilsen's home in Corona. They seemed to be on familiar terms, as far as I could tell."

The Ambassador gave a sigh. "Well, perhaps that's it, then. Mr. Nilsen, I'll be honest, I don't understand why your mother has two different royal families interested in her family, and I'd say it was none of my business, except it looks like I'm going to need to find myself a new secretary now."

"Excuse me, sir?" Lars asked, trying to sound as calm as he could. Elizabeth grabbed his arm tightly looking at him with a worried expression.

"Queen Anna has approval from her council to make you the new ambassador to America."

"But…" Lars trailed off, trying to make sense of the news. He looked at Elizabeth, whose worry had transformed almost immediately into confusion.

"You can decline, of course," the Ambassador reminded him. "It might be awkward, naturally, as rejecting this kind of honor isn't something to be taken lightly."

***

Inga once again managed to get the most recent letter from Corona out of the stack of mail before anyone else saw it. She looked at the date: it had been a week and a half. She sighed.

Corona, September 24th, 1864

Dear Inga,

I’m not sure how I got your last letter so quickly. I’m sure you’ll tell me at some point, but you don’t have to now. I hope your meeting went well. And please tell me more of the story about your ambassador in America, it sounds interesting!

I haven’t been particularly useful here. We sit in on the meetings, but there really isn’t much to talk about. They want to send us on tour, me and Hilde, I mean. I’ll make sure we visit Arendelle, if they’re serious about it, but they don’t even know if it will be this year or next year, so who knows.

Sincerely,

Henry

P.S. I’m still waiting for a recent picture of you!

After fetching a piece of paper to reply, she found a copy of the family’s recent photograph. That would have to do, even if it wasn’t just herself, which she had the feeling would have been more to his liking.

Arendelle, October 8th, 1864

Dear Henry,

I’m happy to hear my letter got there so quickly! I hope I can explain it to you at some point.

I’m going to go ahead and send you the family portrait we had a photographer take right after I got back to Arendelle last month. I ended up holding my baby sister for this one, but believe me, it’s not as bad as it could have been. As far as the situation with the ambassador, I don’t know much more about what happened to the old one. Since I’m not sure if anyone besides you will be reading this letter, I can’t say too much about who was picked to be the new one until you officially hear about it. I don’t understand the choice, and I don’t know if your mother will be upset by this, too.

Tonight we have a ball for the Prince of Maldonia, who will be ending his visit this weekend. I’ll be very relieved to see him gone, and I’m sure he is very disappointed with me.

Sincerely,

Inga

Inga walked out to the balcony, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

“Gale?”

#my fic #kristanna #chapter 26 #frozen fic #frozen fanfic

12 notes · View notes

let-it-show · 5 years ago

Text

A Day With The Queen

Okay so I ran with a prompt from @lumicuous tonight, sorta. The idea was for Elsa to be visiting and just real clingy, but while writing it morphed into Elsa spending the day being clingy but helpful with her beloved new queen sister. You can read it as romantic, or not! :D I love writing fluff lol.

From the moment Anna had woken, Elsa was at her side. Elsa had even been awake before her sister but lounged in the bed, overlooking some writing in regards to things that had happened while she was away. She had missed so much, and did her best to catch up each time she visited even if Anna assured her no one expected her to be as caught up as she was when she was queen.

It was hard not to slip into old habits however, especially when she could help Anna. Elsa was able to remember things very well and sort them into areas of her mind in such a way that it made all the events she needed to pay attention to easy to bring to the foreground. Anna had a good memory, but at times she got a little overwhelmed and struggled, giving way to anxiety.

Elsa felt responsibility to help her. And if she was being completely honest, it also let her hang around Anna every minute of the day. She needed that after having trouble finding proper time for a visit. There was more unrest among the spirits than she had initially realized, as they could have volatile outbursts.

Anna rolled over with a little yawn and pressed her face into Elsa's thigh. Elsa glanced down at her and lightly stroked the utter chaos that was Anna's hair. "Wake up Anna. You've overslept." Elsa always woke up very early. Anna didn't tend to do the same, making herself sometimes late to things.

"Mmmm..." A muffled sound was all that could be heard against the violet material of Elsa's nightgown. It was a favorite one of hers after all.

"Anna, Anna..." she repeated her name and put down the scroll she'd been reading. She grasped Anna's shoulder and shook it gently. "Wake uuup Anna. Come on, you know you've got to."

"No...you be queen today..."

Elsa laughed. Anna was always so cute. "Sorry, not today. I'm not sure that's something we should change up on a day to day basis. Come on g-"

"RISE AND SHINE! Don't mind if I do!" Olaf had burst in the door and loudly. Anna continued to groan as he beelined it for the curtains and threw them open, the sunlight making his snowy exterior sparkle. "Wow, look at me shine! The sun is so warm too!"

"Thank you Olaf," Elsa said, watching him and still smiling. She missed him a lot, too.

"Of course! Wow! Can I join the snuggle party?" he asked, scampering over next to the bed.

"No, sorry. We need to get this one up," she said, her hand petting Anna's shoulder.

"I'mmup." Anna lifted her head, eyes still closed. "M'up." Before her face could drop right back down, Elsa caught her chin.

"Rise and shine indeed. I can see your drool glistening."

"Heh." Anna let out one solid and dorky laugh, still not quite there.

"When I drool, everything sticks," Olaf informed them. "I'm going to go get Sven for a game of rocks!" he then announced, darting off.

Elsa started to slide off the bed, and she reached for Anna's arm to tug her with her. "Come on, up!" Had it always been so hard to wake her? Anna slept like a rock next to her - or completely across her - every time, but usually she wasn't so bad. Elsa remembered being that tired too. "You can do it. I got used to this, so can you."

By then she was out of the bed and had the front end of Anna's body half up off the surface of the bedsheet. That was some progress, anyway. "Elsaaaa..." Anna reached her other hand out for her, and Elsa stepped forward to help.

When she was close enough, Anna's eyes opened wide, and she suddenly tugged Elsa closer before throwing both arms around her waist and smooshing her cheek against her stomach. She giggled and held her tightly while Elsa sighed and muttered. "Should have known it was a trap."

Eventually, Anna did get out of bed, and Elsa helped her get ready. She had no choice since Anna needed assistance with her hair. She wondered if Kristoff usually helped, but didn't ask. For whatever reason she just didn't want to know. It was the same with helping her decide what dress to wear that day, what to have for breakfast...no, Elsa was content to be the one helping that day. She couldn't peel herself away from Anna.

She sat next to her at breakfast instead of across from her. "Seems like today shouldn't be too busy," she told her, stirring her tea and then gently knocking her cup against Anna's.

"Maybe...but, uh, I have to review a thing about clearing some trees, and then there's the upcoming festival and we'll have visitors from another kingdom for that. I think I know what they like to eat but if I'm mixing them up with the others from the east of us, it's going to be really bad because I could feed them the thing they actually treat as holy and forbidden and I just-"

"Shh." Elsa pressed a finger to Anna's lips. "Deep breath Anna. Just show me who you're talking about. I guarantee I know, or at least know where to find it. I'll be at your side all day."

"How am I supposed to focus then?" Anna asked, looking at her with fondness and ignoring her breakfast. Elsa met her eyes and the two took each other in for a long minute.

Oh how Elsa missed her...even if she could see the stress in Anna's face and some mild panic in her eyes, she still held the warmest smile anyone in the world possibly could. "You'll be fine. I'm not here to make things harder, Anna."

"That's not what-"

"I know! I know. But I'll show you some tricks without leaving your side. Relax, please," Elsa begged her.

Anna didn't exactly do so, but she still nodded. "I'll do my best..."

Anna's idea of a busy day was certainly a low energy one for Elsa, but she understood her younger sister still finding it a challenge. Perhaps she was right, too, that she might be a tad unfocused with Elsa at her side all day. Elsa knew that, and she felt guilty, but she couldn't seem to help herself. It had just been too long since she was there in her presence. It'd been too long since Anna's soul had wrapped hers in all its tenderness and brought her to a level of calm she couldn't find even in Ahtohallan.

So, off to the next task they went, taking care of daily affairs. It was mundane, but necessary. There was a conflict here and there. Property issues, arguments that somehow couldn't be solved by a lesser counsel, submissions for various permissions...Elsa watched Anna read over everything with a careful eye as she hovered by her in meeting after meeting. No one objected to her presence and she was flattered. Once in a while Anna looked to her for reassurance and Elsa would smile and nod. When they were alone sometimes she found her hand running over her back, or her arm around Anna's bare shoulders. She couldn't keep herself away. Whenever she touched her it was like she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

It wasn't even lunch when Anna laid her arms on the desk in front of her and sighed. "Elsa, I'm tired. I know I shouldn't be, but I am." It wasn't whiny. It was just a statement.

"That's how it is, dealing with people. You've always been more outgoing than me, though." Living in a giant pile of ice did have some big positives even if Elsa generally liked people. She just didn't always want to be around them.

"Mm, there's being helpful and friendly as a princess, and then taking on a lot as queen. Kristoff tries to help but he's still trying to learn more. He goes off on reindeer tangents a lot when he gets lost in what he should say to people." Anna laughed a little. "It IS pretty funny though."

"You might check to see if he's accidentally reading those reindeer books again. He's smart but obsessed," Elsa said with a shake of her head. He sister was right though. Outgoing didn't mean she wasn't getting a tad socially exhausted. Once again she almost felt guilty for being there all day. Instead, she placed her fingers on either side of Anna's head and started a gentle rubbing motion.

"Aaaahh..." Anna leaned her head back into the touch. Elsa's fingers trailed behind her ears briefly, stroking down her neck as coolness slid gently along warmth. Elsa rubbed her shoulders too, slowly and with careful squeezes. "Come on," she nearly whispered. "We need to go look into clearing those trees."

"I don't remember what we're even clearing them for..."

"And I don't know to begin with." Elsa stepped aside but held out her hand for Anna's. "Let's go look."

The trees were being cleared for a new structure. The document detailing the plans rested next to a map on a large flat table. Anna leaned over to study them and Elsa said nothing as her arm went around Anna's waist. It was straight forward. Arendelle was bringing in another business, one that specialized in animal care and that was needed. There were some details to finalize such as where it would be built. Elsa didn't say a word, letting Anna sort it out on her own as she knew she was capable of. She was silent support.

When Anna was finished, Elsa kissed her cheek. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Anna blushed and squeezed her hand, dragging her off to lunch with Kristoff and Sven.

A picnic lunch remained fun. Elsa was happy to see Kristoff, as much as she didn't feel like sharing Anna's time. However, Kristoff was her friend too, someone she let through her door eventually, and he was able to make her smile and laugh with his antics. Olaf joined too only to bicker with Sven about the weather while Kristoff did the reindeer's voice.

Anna was in stitches by the end of it, unable to breathe while Olaf asked if she was going to throw up her lunch. Elsa mainly observed in amusement. She missed the whole group of them, really. She laughed with Bruni and Gale, and the Northuldrans could be fun, but no one was quite like the family she was with. She missed them when Kristoff and Sven needed to leave to go to a meeting about reindeer herd regulations and Olaf went off to play with some of the kids.

She stopped missing them when Anna rolled in the grass and tugged her down with her. She fell awkwardly with her arms on either side of Anna's torso, the redhead giggling up at her. "I miss this," Anna told her, her finger poking Elsa's nose.

"Anna," Elsa laughed, "This is no way for a queen to behave!" she teased but they had been silly sometimes when she was in that role.

"I'm queen, so actually, I say it is," Anna said firmly. Elsa's long hair hung down on either side of her face and Anna brushed her fingers through it. "You know how long it's been since I sat outside and had a big lunch and took a nice long nap after it," she said, gently tugging on Elsa's hair. Elsa sighed and gave in, dropping down to half lay on Anna with her head on her chest. Anna just kept stroking her hair. It was wonderful and Elsea hated that after a minute she had to say anything. "You have to get back to things sometime."

"Sure," was Anna's simple answer, but she didn't stop petting her. "Five more minutes. Lemme bask in the moment."

Elsa melted right in. There it was again. Anna's soul entangled with her own, bringing happiness and calm. Gentle whispers seemed to surround her as they spoke of love, laughter, faith, and understanding. How cruel it almost felt sometimes when she realized her elevation to being the fifth spirit had awaked her ability to sense more than she had before. Her magic had broadened to feel her sister right before they had found themselves apart. All she wanted was to be surrounded by it, by her.

She never wanted it to stop but the ringing of a bell brought her back to reality and she knew it was time to go back to Anna's duties.

When they did manage to get up and go back in, it was festival planning. Elsa knew the procedure since Arendelle had several throughout the year, and she led her right to the map to begin pointing out ideal locations for several of the areas they would need to set up.

"Didn't you have a comitee or something? This is a lot for Kristoff and I to think about," Anna said eventually, even as she was diligent about taking notes and scribbling down ideas.

Elsa nodded, leaning against the table. "Yes. You'll have the one I had before you took over, and next year you'll be able to appoint new people- or not. You'll see how well they work for you. They did plan a few things recently though, I know you must have talked to them as you shifted things into your rule."

"A little. I wish I had observed better."

"You did fine," Elsa said, beaming down at her. "I know you learned a lot. Watching me, helping me - its different than actually having to be where I was. But our people, Anna, they seem happy with all that you have been doing. I know you've met a couple of representatives from other kingdoms and they loved you." Who wouldn't?

Anna nodded and sighed with a smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Elsa..."

Elsa leaned forward and touched her hand. "You will always, always have me."

Her smile brightened and Anna took her hand, holding tightly. "You know I'll hold you to it."

The afternoon went by quickly after that, almost too quickly. Anna did a lot of planning, and Elsa indeed helped her figure out which kingdom was which. They got carried away researching, maybe, but Elsa enjoyed helping her. She got to just be there with her. In her company, even if they were silently reading, she was happy. She was happy walking with her to dinner, sitting down with Kristoff and Olaf once again to hear about their day.

Olaf told her everything, including more than she wanted to hear about how much he saw of who in various states of undress by accident. But even when he did talk to much he was dear to Elsa and she enjoyed herself. Rarely did she find herself mad at the little snowman; he was a part of both her and Anna for starters. Where Anna ended and Elsa herself began and how much of others had influenced Olaf, she didn't know, but he was always welcome.

Kristoff graciously sat across from both of them, forfeiting his usual seat next to Anna. Elsa had to hand it to him, whenever she showed up and completely stole Anna away for however long she was there, he had a good attitude about it. "You give her something she'll never find in me or anyone else," he had told her once. "I don't mind if it makes her so happy."

Given she even took Anna at bedtime, that was pretty understanding of him.

He also once let slip that sometimes it was nice to put on his boots, stomp out to Sven's stable, and crash in the hay for a night. Old habits died hard.

"Are we playing a family game tonight?" Elsa asked Anna hesitantly as they finished dinner up.

"No..." Anna yawned. "I'm really, really tired. I just kind of...mmm. I have to go sign something, and that's the last meeting. The man wasn't available during the day and so..."

"I understand," Elsa said, standing from the table and waiting on Anna to say good night to Kristoff. Anna kissed him briefly on the lips before saying she loved him. A conflict of emotions swirled in Elsa, but she said nothing, choosing to see it as protectiveness and the clear effect of not being able to visit earlier.

She felt more level headed when they walked just outside the castle doors and remained in the courtyard. Guards escorted a horribly creepy little man with a dirty white beard in, bringing a paper with him. Elsa had studied him the whole time he lurched his way up to Anna, and he sort of glared back. He didn't want to be there, and neither did Anna even though she faked a friendly smile.

Elsa conferred with her over the documents he had brought with him; they would secure a trade deal that was to Arendelle's advantage. Despite the grumbles and glares of the messenger, it was a good thing and Anna agreed to sign, Elsa's hand on her lower back as a sign of support.

Almost as soon as he was led away, Anna turned and wrapped her arms around Elsa. "His attitude was wretched," she stated.

Elsa hugged her tightly as well. "I know. They happen, sometimes. Just keep being friendly and don't waver." Anna was doing well, in that regard - very well. Elsa usually chose to hide any emotion, remaining cautiously friendly but otherwise blank when she dealt with such people. It probably wasn't always the best way to act but it was all she could do at the time before she was able to get away and shoot some ice around as a release.

While she missed home and Anna, she didn't exactly miss her queen duties.

She held her sister for a few more long moments before stepping back and stroking her face. "Come on, let's go rest."

Then it was back into their gowns, and at an early hour. Elsa still had some energy but poor Anna did not. Elsa had held a soft cloth to her face and washed her makeup away along with the stress of the day. She took her time doing so, standing in their washroom while Anna sat on a bench. As she cleared away every bit of makeup she studied Anna's skin, slightly irritated and ready for some hours off. Elsa's skin never felt like that anymore. She didn't miss it.

She undid Anna's bun and let her hair fall free even if it would be a mess again. Sometimes having the braids in after a long day only caused a headache. She brushed her hair out slow and careful before kissing the top of her head and helping her up.

Anna clung to her arm. "Thanks, Elsa..." Anna said sleepily. "I feel sort of stupid."

"Why?" Elsa asked gently as she escorted her to the room.

"I'm still not used to this..."

"So?" Elsa chuckled. "Anna, you saw how long it took me to settle in. Even when I had a routine down and felt more comfortable around everyone, I hadn't learned how to let you or anyone else help me. Remember the nights I slept badly and we all woke up to bursts of ice?"

"I do."

The whole ordeal had been kind of embarrassing. "That's one thing you've got on me so far. No random ice. You're already able to delegate. You're doing brilliantly," she said, leading her to the bed and sitting her on it. She'd had water ready before they went to clean up and she offered a glass to Anna.

Anna downed it slowly, not even quite finishing it before handing it back. "I guess you're right," she told her. "I shouldn't doubt myself, I can-I can do thiaaaaahhh...." Her words were interupted by a long and deep yawn.

Elsa accidentally snorted a laugh and then made up for it by stooping down to press her forehead against Anna's. "You're fine, Anna. Now lay down."

Anna grabbed her arm. "You too, come down here."

"Yes yes," Elsa nodded and crawled into the bed, having to crawl over Anna to have any space on the mattress at all. She was almost over her when Anna suddenly pulled her down on her again, this time with Elsa's face winding up next to hers. "Ack-you should warn me."

"You should be used to this," Anna said, turning to face her and gazing before he eyes started to shut. She tried to fight it, but it wasn't working.

"Mmmhmm." Elsa placed extremely light and careful kisses on Anna's eyelids, stroking her face as she relaxed against her. "I suppose I should be," she told her.

"I want...cuddles.." Anna managed to say, drifting off so quickly.

"You get whatever you want, Anna," Elsa whispered as she snuggled in, their hearts beating in the same soft rhythm. She'd do anything for her and couldn't help squeezing her as she fell asleep. "I love you."

#Frozen 2 #elsa #anna #fanfic #fluffiness

69 notes · View notes