#many-ribbed salamander

[critter-creature-or-beast]

Submitted for classification by @waltzing-with-my-inner-geek

Additional info: A many-ribbed salamander (Eurycea multiplicata) my brother and I found while herping* in a local park. It doesn’t have lungs so I have no idea why it needs so many ribs. This individual seems to have lost its tail. The head is at the bottom of the photo. * That is, looking for herps (reptiles and amphibians).

#many-ribbed salamander #salamander #amphibian #submission

[snototter]

A many-ribbed salamander (Eurycea multiplicata) in western Arkansas, USA

by Noah Mueller

#many ribbed salamander #salamanders #amphibians #eurycea multiplicata #eurycea #Plethodontidae #urodela #amphibia #chordata #wildlife: arkansas #wildlife: usa #wildlife: north america

[proffesionalalpaca]

So I saw Avatar 2: The Way of Water. 10/10 visuals and 6.5/10 for story. But I’m looking forward to #3 in a few years which is supposedly going to feature a tribe or clan(s) of fire Na’vi/ ‘ash people’. There is next to nothing on these guys in terms of info at the moment besides the fact that they are gonna be the bad guys of the Na’vi.

So everything after this point is basically my head-cannon/speculation/fanfic. Enjoy :)

So I interpreted them as having a nomadic warrior society, not like other Na’vi but far more bloodthirsty in fighting other Na’vi tribes, who live near and around volcanoes.

They have a greyish-purple skin tone with sharp, dark stripes that sometimes form crude spiral shapes with darkened fingertips that end in sharpened claws, filing their nails to needle sharpness with volcanic rock. Their muscular and powerful tails have armoured plates, heavily clustered around the end of the tail and evolved from hair, which can be used as a bludgeoning weapon that can easily crush a human rib cage and femur whilst inflicted deep wounds (picture ancient Aztec obsidian clubs or ankylosaurus). The fire Na’vi tend to have amber to red eyes with dark grey/ black sclera. Compared to other Na’vi sub-species and variants, the fire Na’vi have a larger set of double fangs, a large pair of canines on their upper jaw and a smaller but pronounced set on their lower jaw, they also possess larger pointed ears that are often pierced when they pass the trials of adulthood.

The ash people prefer to keep their hair loose with typically only a few beaded braids and chunky plaits to stylise and manage, each bead has a significance to the person wearing it usually marking a hunt or battle, but sometimes can mark other things like the birth of a child or death of a loved one. When going to battle they will tie their hair into tight styles like braided buns, some even braid their hair around their tswins/queues an extra layer of protection due to inter-clan disputes involving the decapitation of queues as a savage battle tactic or prisoner of war’s punishment. The gesture is more symbolic than practical, even though some swear by the practice. When a person is exiled from the clan their hair is cut short to the scalp as a sign of dishonour, marking them as outcast. (Shorter styles are okay but anything above the ears is an exiles mark).

The fire Na’vi often choose to ride upon large creatures that resemble earth salamanders and some dare to ride upon a rare species of feathered Ikran. Many tribes are almost always accompanied by several large tortoise-like animals, twice the size of the direhorse/ Pa’li, these creatures are much slower but are great beats of burden as the clans often has to pack up their sites to avoid the ever shifting lava flows that litter the region they call home. In times of great hardship ones of these animals will sustain an entire clan for over a week. Moving great distances isn’t common but will happen in the event of larger eruptions which occurs once every few generations so the clans make a habit of moving semi-regularly in order to avoid overusing the lands which would incur Eywa’s wrath.

The ‘ash people’ decorate themselves in fiery colours that reflect the lava that spews from Pandora like blood, using a mixture of glass beads, gems and feathers, an amber like mineral being particularly popular among them.

Due to their warring nature, the warriors of these Na’vi take to wearing the bones of slain enemies as trophies, jewellery and sometimes even fashioned/ incorporated into weapons and tools. Nearly every adult fire Na’vi has scars from hunting or fighting and it is encouraged to have wounds from battle scar over, a member’s first scar from a conflict or life & death struggle is often celebrated by close family and friends as an unofficial first step into adulthood (Their first literal steps being a walk over hot lava rocks).

The ash Na’vi also create their signature red war paint using volcanic ash mixed with blood from a kill, either a great beast they hunted or an enemy Na’vi.

Contrary to popular belief from other Na’vi groups, the ash people do not practice cannibalism though they do use their very sharp double fanged bites to tear out throats should their hands be otherwise occupied.

Their interpretation of Eywa differs greatly from most other Na’vi as they feel that they are subject to her true fury and are thus stronger for it, they believe that all life must be preceded and followed by destruction and death for there to be rebirth or renewal. The fire Na’vi believe that they must always adapt or die, as their way of life requires for them to never be complacent or set too heavily in their ways, though strong cultural traditions have remained for thousands of millennia such as their weaving and culinary techniques.

Hope you enjoyed that little bit of cultural speculation of a fictional alien cat species.

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #atwow #avatar 3 #fire Na’vi #Ash people #na’vi oc #Na’vi speculative biology #pandora #Pandoran speculative biology #avatar speculation #Na’vi culture speculation #my art

[kusaka6e]

PRIDE

boxer!natsu x gn!reader

modern au

sfw

———

“and down goes dragneel! the dragon king is really giving the salamander a run for his money, i’m surprised he’s still conscious!”

bastards

you wish the announcers could hear you from your position in natsu’s corner of the ring, choice words brewing in the back of your mind for them.

please just stay down

this is the longest ten seconds of my life

the referee gets to seven before natsu signals that he’s okay to continue, making your stomach lurch. it wasn’t that you didn’t believe in him or his skills. you knew he’d sooner die than lose the fight. it was how his physical state would hold up after that you were worried about.

you rub your palms on your pants as the round ends, your custom jacket with “dragneel” plastered across the back suddenly feeling entirely too warm.

natsu’s left eye was swollen almost completely shut, and if you looked hard enough you were sure his jaw was out of place.

“are you okay to keep going?” makarov scowled, holding natsu’s water up to his face and trying to grease his ever-swelling eye.

“i’m good!” he nods, taking a swig.

“i can call it, you’ve done more than en-” natsu gives makarov a fiery glare, making the older man cut his sentence short. in any other setting, the size difference between them would be absolutely comical.

he spits the water into a bucket held up to his face by another member of his team, staring makarov down.

“i’m fine!” you let out a sigh, a sick feeling sinking in about how the next few rounds would go.

and somehow, miraculously, the announcers are holding up natsu’s fists and adorning him with a ridiculous sized championship belt, the arena roaring with praise for him. you had your camera-ready smile down to a science, but natsu knew you were upset.

you stayed in natsu’s locker room when a trainer came to see him, fighting the urge to scoff upon hearing he had another concussion, possible broken ribs, and probably needed a trip to the eye doctor to make sure he’d keep his sight in his left eye.

natsu had tenacity, nobody could deny that. that’s part of what made his name so popular in the boxing community so quickly. you’d been able to bear witness to him going from small matches in you two’s neighborhood boxing gym to selling out matches as the headlining fighter. you couldn’t be prouder. but you also couldn't be more worried. because for every ounce of tenacity natsu carried, he had just as much (if not more) recklessness to bring to the ring. his tunnel vision and hyperfocus on victory was his strength and very well could be his demise.

natsu’s father had been the one to teach him to fight. for unknown reasons, igneel never got into the big leagues, but he raised one hell of a prodigy.

so, you can see why natsu took igneel's sudden absence to heart. he wasn’t dead, or injured, or missing in action. just simply flew halfway across the world to start a new life with a woman half his age, completely abandoning his then-teenage son and training him. and no matter how well natsu did, how much he excelled or how many wins he had under his name, nothing ever made his father break his silence towards him.

makarov bringing natsu into his gym to continue his training was probably the best thing that ever happened to him. he saw natsu as one of his own, which is part of why he was so hard on him.

“you can’t keep doing this, natsu.”

“winning?”

“can you stop being a smartass for two minutes? you need to care for your body, not just train to swing hard. if you lose your sight in your left, then what?”

you suck in a breath, watching natsu’s non-injured eye narrow in annoyance.

“both of my fists will still work. i’ve fought plenty of times with a fucked up eye before.”

“you are insufferable.” makarov sighs, giving you a look that suggested you might have more luck than he did, closing the door behind him.

“love you too!” natsu shouts, grinning as he pulls a hoodie on his sweaty torso.

you two’s drive home is uncharacteristically quiet, natsu staring at you in anticipation. you’d snatched the keys out of his duffel before he could even think about insisting he could drive, knowing how casually he treated his concussions.

“why do you keep hurting yourself in your fights?” your voice is quiet and even-toned, staring at the brake lights ahead of you. traffic leaving the arena was nearly standstill, masses of cars surrounding you in every direction.

“it’s not like im punching myself in the face babe.”

you kiss your teeth in annoyance, refusing to look at him.

“you know that’s not what i mean.”

“why does everyone keep asking me that? this entire sport is based around beating the shit out of the other guy in the ring with you, i don’t see the problem.”

“the problem is you don’t know when to stop, natsu.”

“i stop when i win, that’s all that matters.” your grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles beginning to go white.

“what about you?”

he sighs heavily, cracking his knuckles.

“i’m fine, (y/n).”

“your fifth concussion in a year is fine, natsu? your broken ribs that are gonna make it hurt to breathe are fine? the possibility of you only being able to see out of one of your eyes, that’s fine to you?!” guilt washes over you when you watch him wince at your increase in volume, remembering that his concussion would make him sensitive to sound.

he opens his mouth, then closes it. he knows you’re right, and fighting with you is the last thing he wanted to do. soon enough, you pull into your driveway, thankful to get out of the car.

you park the car, yanking the keys from the ignition as he hastily follows you into you two’s home. you set the keys on a table by the front door, taking a breath.

“you can go to the eye doctor by yourself tomorrow.” his eyes widen, double taking to make sure he heard you right.

“what?!” it was an unspoken rule that you always came to his appointments with him. press conferences, interviews, photoshoots, his only request was that you were always right there.

“i’ll order the uber in the morning so you don’t have to dri-”

“why aren't you coming?”

“i’m not gonna listen to you try to fight the advice of another person who only wants the best for your health. justifying it with winning isn’t enough.”

“my eye is fine, i’m really not hurt that bad.”

“yes you are! i’m listening to you wheeze every time you inhale, don’t try to give me that bullshit. you’re either going to start taking care of yourself or i’m done. i’m not gonna sit around and watch you destroy yourself over a title.”

his eyes darken with anger, staring you down.

“yea? what happened to you being proud of me for fighting through all that shit? for being an underdog, for making a name for myself?”

“none of that is worth your well being, natsu! if you never winning a match again means you’re not going to get permanent brain damage from all these concussions, on top of partial blindness, so fucking be it! i care more about you than i do some stupid shiny belt.” you spit.

“that belt is worth everything to me, why don’t you get that?”

“why do you always act like you have something to prove?!”

“because i do!” him raising his voice rattles the entire house, regret rising in his chest at the sharp pain that shows up behind his temples and watching you jump in surprise.

“i do have something to prove.” his voice cracks when he repeats himself, much weaker than the first time.

you finally look at him, raising an eyebrow for him to continue.

“i have to prove that him leaving wasn’t my fault. eventually, he has to see how good i’m doing and say something about it.”

your chest pangs as you watch him wipe away a tear before it can fall, his usual massive stature suddenly looking so small and fragile in you two’s foyer, light from the moon illuminating behind him.

there’s tense silence for a few moments, but you know you can’t keep it up.

“baby…” you cautiously reach an arm around him, gasping when he throws himself into you, failing at trying to hide his crying.

“i-i’m sorry, i’ll be more careful. i just wanted to make everyone proud, to prove that i deserve to be here. i’ll go get my eye looked at, and i won’t fight when i get hurt like this anymore, just please don’t leave me too, i can’t-” the rest of his sentence is cut off with a choked sob, making you gently shush him as you move one hand to play with his hair.

“i’m right here, it’s okay.” you give him a few minutes to let everything out, cradling his tear-stained face in your hands and giving him a reassuring smile.

“i’m so proud of you. and so is anyone else who’s in your corner. anyone who’s not doesn’t deserve the honor in the first place.” he nods, sniffling quietly.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers, unable to meet your eyes.

it was easy to forget that natsu was sensitive under his goofy and nonchalant exterior, especially seeing him in action. you press a quick kiss to his lips, finally getting a small smile out of him.

“we should probably go shower and go to bed, yea? we’ve gotta be on time for that appointment tomorrow.”

his face lights up like a kid on christmas, taking your hand in his and tugging you upstairs to you two’s room.

“i’m sorry i’m a pain in the ass-” he kisses your nose, interrupting his statement “-i love you-” another on both your cheeks, “-so much.” he finishes with kissing your lips, lingering there for a few moments. you playfully roll your eyes, snuggling up to him so you can fall asleep.

“i love you and your stubborn ass more.”

#fairy tail x reader #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #natsu dragneel #natsu dragon slayer #natsu fluff #natsu headcannons #natsu headcanons #boxer!natsu #natsu x reader #natsu x gn reader

[newtsfrogstoads]

Hi friend,

What’s a caecilian?

I know I could Google it but I feel like we’d all get more joy out of my asking you.

Happy to answer! Imagine a worm and a snake made sweet squirmy love and had a child. That's basically what a caecilian is:

From the worm parent, they inherited blindness and a segmented body, as a well as a knack for diving into the mud and shallow water.

From the snake parent, they inherited a bullet-shaped snout, a left lung smaller than their right lung, and a penchant for eating bugs, slugs, snails, and worms (this makes family dinners very awkward).

Caecilians also tend to swim like eels and have chemosensory tentacles near the front of their heads like hagfish. It's possible that the worm and the snake wanted to spice things up in the bedroom and invited some of their other legless friends, but scientists have yet to prove this (cowards).

In terms of looks, Caecilians tend to appear very derpy from the side:

When viewed head-on though, they tend to resemble people who were asked to smile at a camera but didn't have enough time to mentally or physically prepare:

Finally, while there are many poisonous amphibians in the world, there are very few that are venomous (exceptions include tree frogs that inject venom via headbutting with skull spikes, and newts that ram their own ribs through their coated skin to make toxic spikes).

The Brazilian Ringed Caecilian seems to have venomous glands that coat their teeth to deliver a deadly bite like that of a gila monster, but scientists are still studying this. Regardless, don't get bit by one cause some caecillians really look like the chestburster from Alien:

Other cool caecilian facts:

Different species can be as small as 8.9cm (3.5in) to as large as 1.5m (5 ft) but caecilians know that size doesn't matter anyway

Caecilians are one of the three groups that make up all amphibians - the other two being frogs and salamanders

Baby Ringed Caecilians have 44 spoon-shaped teeth and will eat their mom's outer layer of skin for several minutes then take a break for a few days to allow their mom's skin to regrow before chowing down on it again yum yum

#amphibians #caecilian #nature is metal #channeled my inner ze frank for this #asks I answer at 2am instead of sleeping #animals

[dougdimmadodo]

March’s Fossil of the Month - Acanthostega (Acanthostega gunnari)

Family: Acanthostega Family (Acanthostegidae)

Time Period: 365 Million Years Ago (Late Devonian)

In life, Acanthostega gunnari would have likely resembled a cross between a lungfish and a salamander, and this isn’t dramatically different to what it really was; Acanthostega was a stem-tetrapod, an early member of the lineage of animals that now contains all reptiles, birds, mammals and amphibians, and is believed to be an example of a key stage in the transition between fleshy-finned fishes and the earliest terrestrial vertebrates. Although it possessed 4 short limbs ending in wide, 8-toed feet, the lack of any clear wrist or ankle joints suggests that Acanthostega likely couldn’t support its weight on land, and this combined with its well-developed pelvic bones implies that it was likely a fully-aquatic animal that primarily relied on a paddle-like fin on its tail to propel it forwards while its limbs were used to steer or possibly to grasp aquatic vegetation. During the late Devonian much of the world (including the area of what is now Greenland where Acanthostega fossils were first discovered) was covered in humid, swampy deciduous forests, and this combined with Acanthostega’s anatomy suggests that it likely inhabited warm, oxygen-poor forest pools, which would also explain one of its more unusual characteristics; in addition to possessing fish-like internal gills (as suggested by the presence of gill arch like structures at the base of its skull), a rudimentary rib cage implies that Acanthostega likely had lungs, allowing it to extract oxygen from water as well as air and thereby survive in shallow, oxygen-starved pools that fishes and larger stem-tetrapods would have struggled to breathe in. The teeth of Acanthostega (which were arranged in two rows and were short and sharp, with two larger fangs on the lower jaw) implies that it was likely carnivorous (possibly feeding on terrestrial arthropods caught from above-water beds of vegetation or the banks of its home pools), and comparisons of the anatomy and mineral makeup of fossils of smaller individuals (believed to be juveniles) with those of larger individuals (which are generally believed to be adults) implies that it grew slowly, possibly taking up to 6 years to reach full maturity (at which point most individuals were around 60cm/23.6 inches long, although the difference in the length of seemingly mature individuals suggests that, as with many fish, adverse environmental conditions could considerably limit Acanthostega’s growth.) Although it is unlikely that Acanthostega or its descendants ever succeeded in colonizing land, it is generally accepted that (having become so well-suited to life in the oxygen-poor pools they inhabited) they had little need to, and as several of Acanthostega’s fellow stem-tetrapods (such as the significantly larger Ichthyostega, which had jointed, six-toed limbs and a more developed rib-cage that likely allowed it to haul itself onto land for prolonged periods like modern mudskippers or seals) are known to have done so, the study of the anatomy and lifestyle of this strange little swamp-dweller can still help to shed light on how the variety of land-dwelling vertebrates seen today came to be. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Image Sources

Fossil: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acanthostega_gunnari.jpg#/media/File:Acanthostega_gunnari.jpg

Restoration: https://www.10tons.dk/acanthostega-gunnari

#Acanthostega #acanthostega gunnari #animal #animals #prehistoric animals #wildlife #prehistoric wildlife #devonian wildlife #zoology #biology #paleontology #stem-tetrapod #stem-tetrapods #evolution

[littleivyart]

oc ask game

58.How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

I realized I read the prompt wrong the first time, but I'm not about to delete what I had originally soooo yeah

Benny's a pretty active guy he loves to go bike riding. He played baseball throughout middle and high school. He collects baseball cards 'cause it's something him and his step-dad bonded over. He has his fair share of nerdier interests as well. Him and his roommates play DnD almost every week and absolutely loves LOTR. He loves to write and has a couple of fantasy novels on the backburner. As for attempted hobbies, maybe cub scouts, but it didn't last very long due to him being way too timid as a kid

Cleo's always had "weird" hobbies (I mean, growing up a witch will do that to ya) like as a kid she loved to catch wild frogs, salamanders, caterpillars, etc and take care of them. She used to cosplay and go conventions with her ex Anthony. She still sews her own clothes and likes to knit. She still loves to takes care of small animals and actually has 3 pet jumping spiders, their names being Rib, Skull, and Scapula, and a snake named Spine. For attempted hobbies, she did gymnastics for about 2 months when she was 8. Tried out to be a cheerleader in middle school, but that didn't work out either (got in too many fights with the "popular girls" in the group.) Basically, anything that was a team sport she tried, but it would never last. She's not much of a team player, lol

#Strange Polarity #Cleo and Benny #asks #ivy talks #i read the prompt as what are their hobbies #and completely skipped over the fact that it said “attempted” hobbies #i hate dyslexia

[spidermilkshake]

Ancardia's Unusual Animals--the Hrökkáll

Classification: Beast (fish)

Habitat: Deoxygenated and polluted pools and wetland ranges in Tvearban and northern Akimmia.

            The Hrökkáll is an unusual fish native only to certain northerly areas of the world, which while commonly described as an eel, is truthfully closer in relation to a muskellunge. At full size, this creature of shallow polluted pools and acidic wetland waters measure only about 55 centimeters, and in the spring thousands of squirming juveniles can be found which measure about 2 centimeters in length. The Hrökkáll is the subject of a number of superstitions among the Isyldweragh and the Hurthlings of the Helm of the East region, chiefly of their being an omen of death or a bringer of bad luck. This perhaps has more to do with the habitat of the Hrökkáll, which can include secluded ponds and pools made completely toxic and impotable by mineral intrusion from arsenic, lead, and cinnabar (mercury) deposits close to the surface rather than the fish itself. The wiser Ice Dwarf or Highrock Hurthling realizes that the fish comes after the noxious pools, and simply knows better than to draw water or catch the fish of the polluted pools and fens.

            This elongate and heavy-scaled fish species is a predator, mostly targeting flying insects, small frogs and salamanders, and low-flying birds such as plovers and kingfishers. They grow somewhat stunted in places of high mineral pollution, but seem to be well-adapted to surviving in such adverse conditions. Their general submersion in acidic or toxic water protects them from many predators, and most live their whole 7 to 8 year lifespans in the same pools snatching mayflies and mosquito larva from the surface in spring and ambushing migratory birds skimming the water and the more foolish amphibians on the shores in autumn. Their juveniles, which hatch from eggs suspended from the stems of cattails, reed, and other water-loving plants at a few inches above water level, are sometimes taken by kingfishers and wandering gulls and seabirds, and in their wetland habitat the younger Hrökkáll less than 15 centimeters in length are often attacked by marsh-dwelling herons and snapping turtles, though somewhat rarely. The flavor of Hrökkáll flesh from the wetland-dwelling individuals is still said to be somewhat foul and metallic, with a constant aftertaste like clotted blood and something burnt no matter what cooking method and what spices are added to it. For this reason, whenever a Hrökkáll specimen is ever killed by locals, the flesh is generally ground up for either fertilizer or bait for other animals, and the only portions used by humanoids are the strong ribs and ray fins for primitive sewing needles, fishing tackle, and the hide and scales as a thin but tough leather used for belts, knuckle-guards, and some decorative features.

            Hrökkáll are neither particularly social or anti-social—usually content to bask along the surfaces of their native bogs and pools. In some situations, these fish can be densely packed at fifteen to a square meter, at which point some fighting can occur but is usually resolved by a number of the Hrökkáll leaping onto land and wriggling to a neighboring pool or fens. This species is hardy, not only surviving high levels of metallic toxins and acidity but able to live for up to three hours outside of water, provided the humidity is high. In other situations, particularly in warmer, murkier waters, Hrökkáll have been known to turn cannibalistic very quickly if risk of overcrowding looms, though this is a stress behavior and not otherwise seen in healthy limited populations. On rare other occasions, inexperienced brown bears may attack a great many of these fishes in a small pool by opportunity, only to realize after consuming one that they are highly toxic and unpalatable.

#ancardia #ancardian homebrew #bestiary #mixed media #creatures #animals #Ancient Domains of Mystery #ADOM #Dnd-like #Hrökkáll #Icelandic mythology #poison pool fish

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Turns out I didn't have to hand out any brochures at the event, I just had to answer questions. 🥳 But there were some interesting moments, so here are some highlights!

Someone explaining to a toddler clutching an entire stack of postcards that they couldn't just take every single one with elephants on

An old woman explaining to her nearly-blind husband that the skeleton he was looking at wasn't a camel, like he thought it was, but a dinosaur (it was a camel)

Multiple exasperated parents telling their kids that no, they don't know where to get a tiny elephant from

A child very confidently announcing that a giant salamander was a snail

Me explaining to a man that kiwi eggs do actually take up that much space in a kiwi

Trying to explain to kids how we came to own multiple dead animals and that no, most of them were not just found lying around

One of my lecturers then just deciding to tell the truth about where they all came from (there was some minor trauma)

Finding out that there are 6 year olds who know more about animals than I do

Someone telling us that their child now wants an entire jar of shrews (for context, we have an entire jar of shrews and the child now wants one just like it)

A child seeing the giant snake skeleton and saying "TOO MANY LEGS" before they went away slightly traumatised (they unfortunately didn't quite grasp the fact that they were just ribs and the entire thing wasn't some kind of horrific millipede)

Anyway, it was amusing and we did actually teach some people some things! (Also seeing kids running sound being overly excited by animals is adorable because that was me as a child).

#someone does need to clean all the sticky handprints off the glass though #steph rambles #random shitposts with steph

[undercityviktor]

Late Night Lab Confessions

A late night love confession in the lab between Jayce and Viktor.

Hope you enjoy it! I’m aiming to put it on AO3 when I get a new account for my Arcane shenanigans, but for now you can find my writing here. (I also wrote another fluffy one about Jayce offering Viktor a ticket to the Opera House on Winterfest.)

Rating: Teen, light nsfw (kiss), occasional curse word let Jayce say fuck sometimes, ok? Content warning: very brief allusion to Jayce’ suicidal moment in Act 1, Viktor’s attitude could be interpreted as low self-worth when it comes to his appearance and accent and origins. Wordcount: 2333

___

“Viktor!”

Viktor jumped almost out of his skin at the sudden yell. The steel graver skated over the brass plate he’d been meticulously working on for the past two hours, and it left a deep gouge in the polished metal, nearly taking a chunk out of his finger too. He exhaled. The plate was ruined.  

Turning awkwardly in his seat at the workbench he stared at the lab doors as they ricocheted off the wall and slammed shut, and Jayce barrelled in looking like something was about to explode in the corridor behind him. Viktor’s back brace creaked and dug into his ribs but he ignored it with a half-wince that usually ended up disguised as a scowl.  

“Jayce, whatever is the matter? I thought you were at the Kirammans’ Winterfest party? Has something happened?”

“I was,” he panted, coming to a lurching halt and standing in front of Viktor, staring at him with his hazel eyes wide and glassy.  

“Are you alright? Did… Did you forget something here?”

“No, yes, I mean… yes I’m alright, but…” Jayce exhaled roughly and looked away and then back at Viktor before trying to sort his words into a more coherent order.  

He often got like this when he was excited about a new idea, and Viktor was no stranger to waiting him out, waiting for him to untangle his words and get them across in a way that made sense, but he found himself slightly perturbed by the feverish light in Jayce’s eyes and the stippling of sweat at his temples.  

“I was talking to some of the guests about what we’ve been doing here in the lab — together — but they all just assumed it’s me on my own, despite how many fucking times I’ve told them it’s a partnership —”

Jayce scrunched his fingers into his forelock so hard Viktor nearly rose from his seat to pull his hand away. Jayce growled and bared his teeth, chest heaving like the bellows in the forge before he closed his eyes and seemed to slump.

“Vik,” he breathed, and Viktor’s heart lurched oddly in his chest the way it always did when Jayce called him that.  

Viktor dipped his head and then looked up at Jayce when he didn’t elaborate. “… Yes?” 

“Fuck,” his friend hissed. “Look, I know you loathe these things — parties and conferences and all that…”

“Yes, I… do believe I made my opinions on all that perfectly clear, very early on. I have no interest in recognition, Jayce. I only care that our work gets done.”

“I know. You called it ‘superficial salamander shit’ if I remember…” he grinned, eyes glinting, and Viktor snorted.  

“Did I? How crass of me,” he said with a flat sarcasm that lit Jayce’s eyes up again in a way that made something painful and ugly coil and writhe inside Viktor’s chest. Jayce was one of the very few people who seemed to get his odd, dry sense of humour.  

Jayce’s frantic, spiked emotions softened the longer he stood in the quiet, cool air of the lab with Viktor, but when he looked back at him, there was something painfully sad in Jayce's eyes. He swallowed thickly and snatched a breath but didn’t speak.  

“Jayce?” Viktor prompted again in a soft undertone.

“Right. Yeah. So… Will you come and join me? At the Kirammans’ party, I mean. Now? Just this once?”

Genuine horror plummeted through Viktor and he recoiled and shook his head. “Jayce, I… I can’t… Not with all those… people…”

“You mean all those posh Pilties?”

Hearing the Undercity term roll so easily off Jayce’s tongue took him off guard. Still, it was true. He had indeed been about to say ‘Pilties’. “…Exactly,” he said. “Jayce, they don’t want to see someone like me when they’re hearing about magic and hexgates and technical ‘impossibilities’.” He stressed the word and waved his hand at their latest, half-built creation on the workbench. “They don’t want to hear my thick Undercity accent or look at me hanging off my crutch while I bore them to death with frequencies and conductive materials... They need their Golden Boy.”

Jayce scowled but did let him finish.

“In you, they see their own invincibility and cleverness and successes reflected back at them. All they see when they look at me is a trench rat.”

Jayce’s brows knotted, his hands already balled into fists, and he snarled. He even took half a step towards him that actually had Viktor leaning back. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that. You’re nothing like that, and you know it.”

“Like what?” he asked carefully, cocking an eyebrow.  

“You’re so much more than that, can’t you see it? Can’t you see how brilliant you are? None of this would be possible without you. Hell, Vik, I wouldn’t even be alive without you.”

Jayce didn’t talk often about that night, about the desperate state of mind he’d worked himself into, but whenever Viktor conjured the image of Jayce teetering on the ledge of his ruined bedroom, it filled him with a cold dread that sometimes took hours to drain away. That someone like Jayce, with so much vital potential, so much to live for, had even considered throwing away his life was anathema to Viktor, but more than that, the idea of the man’s glowing brilliance being snuffed out by a long, ignominious fall to the dark ground below was… horrifying.  

A world without Jayce’s light seemed unbearable, unfathomable, to Viktor.  

He hadn’t realised his eyes had brimmed with tears until Jayce knelt swiftly down in front of Viktor’s stool, landing heavily on his knees and snatching up Viktor’s hand in both of his. Gods, his hands were big and warm and rough, but oh so gentle. Always so gentle. Viktor shuddered, unable to stop the trembling once it started.  

“Shit, don’t cry, Vik. I’m sorry I pushed. I’m sorry I’m always so bull-headed and self-centred. I’m… I just… I wish everyone else could see what I see when I look at you, that’s all. I wish you could see it too.”

Blinking rapidly had no effect on stemming the tears that flowed freely and silently down Viktor’s gaunt cheeks as Jayce knelt at his feet and clung to his right hand. With his left hand, Viktor brought it trembling to the crown of Jayce's head and stroked his fingers through the soft, black forelock and over his head to the velvet-soft undercut at the back. “Jayce,” he choked.  

Jayce tilted his head and pressed his lips to Viktor’s knuckles where he still held his hand. “I love you, Viktor,” he whispered, eyes downcast. “I love you. I know you don’t feel that way for me, and I won’t push it or bring it up again, but I need you to know you’re everything to me.”

Viktor tried to curl forwards, thinking vaguely of kissing Jayce’s head, of finally burying his nose in Jayce’s soft hair and simply inhaling the forge-smoke aura that always clung to him, but his brace suddenly dug into his ribs and his hips at the top and bottom, and it robbed him of breath for a moment. He pulled up sharply and tilted his face to the ceiling for a moment, trying to catch his breath, tears still rolling down his face.  

Instead of a kiss, he squeezed Jayce’s hand with his fingers as hard as he could and whispered his reply in the language of his childhood.  

“What?” Jayce croaked, looking up.  

Viktor took a deep breath and lowered his gaze back down to Jayce. The way he was looking at him, all hope tinged with a little, frantic, fluttering fear, made Viktor’s whole chest constrict. In a voice he wished was far stronger, he spoke. “I said, luchik, that I love you too.”

For a long second, Jayce just stared at him, and Viktor wondered fleetingly if he had actually switched languages to something Jayce would understand, but when Jayce reared up to his feet from his kneeling vigil on the floor and flung his arms around Viktor’s neck, drawing Viktor’s head to rest against his stomach, Viktor finally laughed.  

He slid his skinny arms around Jayce’s hips and let himself be held for what had to be the first time in over a decade. Jayce was always so free with his touches, but he had never — not even on the day they'd got the hexgates working — held him like this. Jayce stroked his hair and laughed before pulling back a little and bringing his right hand to Viktor’s chin, tilting it up.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his gaze flickering back and forth between Viktor’s eyes as he searched for some untruth. “Please tell me you’re serious — that I’m not hallucinating after not enough sleep and a looming deadline?”

“I would never lie about something like that, Jayce,” Viktor said. “And… if you really want me to, I will accompany you tonight, but I must warn you that my presence will probably not have the effect you’re after.”

“I don’t care,” he said, one hand now on Viktor’s shoulder. “I wanted you at my side, where you belong. It’s our project. Our Hextech dream.”

Viktor nodded, wondering just what he’d let himself in for. “Should I… change? I don’t have anything as smart as your Council getup, you know?” he said, eyeing it. It did look very good on those broad shoulders.  

“You’re fine as you are,” Jayce mumbled. “Caitlyn is wearing her enforcer uniform to piss off her mother.”

Viktor smiled. Caitlyn was an idealist with little real-world experience, but he was rapidly warming to her.  

“Let me, uh, just tidy up my notes a little,” he said, turning back to the desk behind him. His heart was still beating too fast and his breath was still rasping and hard to catch.  

Jayce loved him.  

Jayce had told him he loved him.  

On his knees.  

Damn, if that wasn’t an image that was going to stay with Viktor for a long, long time.  

After scraping his nerves and his notes together, he pushed himself to his feet and fought off an inevitable wave of biting cramps in his right leg and hip, the spasms travelling up his spine and rendering him almost blind for a moment as pain overwhelmed all his senses. A warm weight pressed against his lower back and he opened his eyes a moment later to find Jayce standing quietly beside him, one hand on the small of his back, watching.

His eyes formed the question his lips didn’t speak, and Viktor nodded. “I’m alright,” he croaked. “Thank you.”

Jayce nodded once and stepped back, passing the crutch that he’d made for Viktor in the forge only a year ago. It fitted him to perfection, and had been made with as much meticulous attention as had the hexgates.

They closed up the lab together without talking, and Viktor walked beside Jayce down the corridor feeling like he was in a dream.  

“Vik?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Evidently.”

Jayce snorted. “What was that word you said?”

“Which word?”

Jayce held the door open for him at the far end of the corridor and stepped out behind him, catching up in a single stride. “You said something in your mother tongue when you… before… back then…”  

“When I told you I love you?” he pressed, just to watch Jayce blush.  

“Yeah.”

“Mmm, was it perhaps, luchik?”

“Yeah, that.”

He rolled his eyes. Now it was his turn to squirm. “It’s… a term of endearment. Suitable for our Golden Boy, I think.”

“What does it mean?”

“Mmm… It… It varies a little depending on the context, but something akin to ‘ray of light’ or ‘sunbeam’ might be a suitable translation.”

Jayce halted so abruptly that it took Viktor two paces to realise and stop himself. He turned and found Jayce staring at him, watery eyed again. “I want something to call you, Vik.”

He laughed at Jayce’s almost childlike desire for balance, for fairness. “You’ve already got something to call me that no one else does. You call me ‘Vik’.”

“Yeah, but… something with meaning.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t just give yourself a nickname, Jayce. That’s not… It doesn’t work like that.”

“Please? Something?” he said, closing the gap and taking Viktor’s breath away again as he casually reached up and took his face in both hands.

Warmth suffused his jaw and he lost himself in the warm, autumn greens of Jayce’s eyes. He almost missed the sounds that came from Jayce’s full lips because of it. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Viktor blinked. “What, here in the hallway? Anyone could see, Jayce.”

A protective light kindled in Jayce’s eyes and he scowled. “Let them. I want the world to know I’m yours. I’ve been yours since the day you believed in me and handed me back my cuff,” he said, tilting his wrist to show the spent gem in the leather band. Viktor tipped his head slightly to nuzzle that hand a little more. “But if you’re not comfortable with—”

With a roll of his eyes, Viktor reached out with his right hand and snagged Jayce’s collar, dragging him closer and kissing him with everything he had.  

Jayce’s whole body yielded to the kiss, melting around Viktor with a decadent moan and he closed his eyes, his big hands straying down to Viktor’s waist and squeezing his bony hips hard as Viktor swayed towards him.  

When they parted, Jayce’s lips were puffy and his eyes shone. “You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Come on,” Viktor grunted, setting off again. “If we’re going to make it to the Kirammans’ before midnight, we should get going now.”

Jayce’s knuckles brushed against those of Viktor’s right hand, and with a quick, stolen glance up at Jayce through his eyelashes, Viktor laced his fingers with Jayce's.

As they left the main building and stepped out into the chilly winter air, Viktor mumbled, “You could start with Vitya.”

___

I’m a new sideblog, so reblogs and the like are hugely welcome! I’ll link my new AO3 when it’s up. Don’t forget to tell me if you want to see more, or if you’ve got a jayvik (or caitlyn/vi) request. I’m always up for an idea!

Stay safe, and Happy Holidays.

#jayvik #vikjay #jayce talis #viktor #jayce x viktor #viktor x jayce #arcane #arcane fanfic #netflix arcane #arcane netflix

[newtscamanderimagines]

The first thing he noticed about you were your eyes, they reminded the magizoologist of salamanders. He immediately fell for your strong personality and the passion within your that jeopardized his job. To Newt’s amazement, You fancied him too and gradually you became emotionally and physically closer. The night he kissed you he felt more happiness than he ever had. The kiss was soft and timid, but filled with love and understanding of one another. After that kiss, You spent more time in Newt’s apartment where he taught you about magical beasts and she got to secretly eye him whenever he took off his shirt to take care of the Kelpie. At first she was shocked by the scars on his body, then once you learned the story behind each one, she fell in love with the man even more.

After a long day of chasing after the baby Nifflers and wrestling around the magnificent creatures, You proposed the idea of ordering a pizza and watching a movie, just like how the no-majs do. Newt grumbled for a bit but once you got the pizza and settled into the couch, he understood why the muggles enjoyed this activity. You were sprawled sideways on the couch, Newt was against the back of the couch and he held you who was leaning into him and watching the movie. He didn’t really understand the movie but You was engrossed in it, so he quietly played with your dark hair and studied your beautiful face like he was watching a rare creature. After a while, Newt’s arm started to cramp up so he grabbed Your side for stability and adjusted his body. You shrieked in surprise and nearly fell off the couch but Newt quickly caught you. Your cheeks flushed a deep red and you coughed embarrassingly.

“You surprised me,” You quickly explained and turned back to the movie.

Newt pieced the puzzles together and with an amused chuckle, he stated bluntly, “You’re ticklish.”

“I am not!” You turned her head to look at Newt, giving him a dark glare.

“Then what was this about?” He grabbed her side again and you squealed.

“Don’t do that!” Your cheeks were even redder.

“Why? Many creatures tickle their young ones to bond.”

“Because it’s embarrassing Newt!”

He cocked his head and gently put a finger under your chin, lifting your head up so you were looking at each other in the eyes.

“I think your laughter is adorable,” he whispered, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, “it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.”

“Then you need to hear other sounds then,” you scoffed.

Newt grinned and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, “You are absolutely right.” He flipped you over on the couch, making you yelp in surprise, and he straddled you hips. You gave him an angry look but before you could say anything, he gently dug into your belly. You erupted into a stream of giggles and suddenly into belly laughter when he found a sensitive spot right underneath your ribs. Newt laughed with you and wiggled his fingers along your sides and gently pinched at the soft skin.

You squirmed and caught his wrists, you gasped for breath while still giggling and looked at Newt with a twinkle in her eye.

“I know one sound I want to hear,” you grinned. Before he could do anything, You quickly turned the tables and his laughter filled the small apartment. The pizza was cold and the movie was forgotten, but Newt learned that sometimes physical affection can lead to an unbelievable amount of happiness

#newt scamander #cuteness #ticklish

[ickle-ronniekins]

forever, i choose you

desc: he’s always been everyone’s second choice, in every aspect of his life. george weasley just wants to be someone’s first.

word count: 3.9k

pairing: george weasley x muggle!reader

warning(s): idk you might cry, i sure did but what else is new. loneliness/discussion of sexual content/idk

A/N: i still have no motivation to write and/or read. and it’s the absolute worst. but i wrote the bulk of this story back in december/the beginning of january, and i figured maybe i’d try and write the ending and publish it and see if it’ll spark any inspiration in me. i’m real, real, real sorry if i haven’t gotten to your fics to read (i’ve got them all saved!) i just don’t know what’s wrong with me atm and it’s THE WORST. also it might evoke more emotion if you listen to this while reading this lil fic. thank you, to all of you, for your support and patience, always.

disclaimer: i do not give consent for my work to be posted on ANY other platform.

Seven-year-old George Weasley watched with wide eyes and a goofy grin as his father twirled his mother in the family space of their normally bustling and loud home. But tonight, the Burrow was quiet. Everyone was already sound asleep, his five brothers and his younger sister. George should be too, but he just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sheets and kept groaning, and it wasn’t long before his twin brother Fred threw a few pillows at his face, and eventually, George decided to get up and go for a stroll.

He hid strategically on the staircase so his parents wouldn’t see that he was still wide awake at nearly midnight, and he watched as they swayed lightly to the music emitting from somewhere in the house. It was light as a feather, the music, a small piano tune that echoed through the lower level, its sounds traveling effortlessly up the stairs of the home. Mr. Weasley dipped his wife and Mrs. Weasley giggled like some of the young girls George had seen in the village, kind of a nervous giggle, and he watched her blush. He saw his mother placed her head gently on Mr. Weasley’s chest and they both closed their eyes, and George wondered if they were happy to have a moment of peace without their seven children running around causing mayhem.

He wondered if they danced like this every evening, after everyone had already gone to bed.

George noticed a weird sort of feeling in his chest; he wondered why his heart was hurting. Was it because there was something wrong? But then he realized that wasn’t the case, for the aching in his heart came from his pure desire to find exactly what his mum and dad had -- a love like none other, with seven children, a home with multiple stories, and more treacle tarts than one needs.

He vowed in that moment, as he watched his parents from the staircase and tapped his foot quietly in rhythm with the music, that he’d find love like that one day.

He wanted someone to choose him first, just like his parents chose one another.

He brought his hand to his chest, as if to calm his rapidly beating heart, for the sheer idea of finding a love like theirs filled him with such excitement that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Seven-year-old George Weasley laid in bed, ignoring the soft snores from his twin across the room, his eyes wide with wonder as he dreamt of the woman he’d dance with one day.

Twelve-year-old George Weasley wasn’t ready to date. He was only twelve years old! He much preferred to dream.

He knew when he looked at the girl across from him that she wasn’t the one, lovely as she was. He adjusted his Gryffindor tie and cleared his throat and focused on the Potions assignment in front of him. It wasn’t exactly a date, was it? He was in a Potions lesson with his classmates, and Snape. But when the cute blackhaired Hufflepuff approached him and asked if he’d like to work together on the next of Snape’s ridiculous concoctions, Fred poked his brother in the ribs and winked, as if to say, If you don’t partner up with her, you’re a right prat.

And so George did what he thought was gentlemanly and he said yes. He could tell by the rose pink colour that flooded her cheeks that she was smitten with him, and that she’d asked him to be her partner because she was smitten. And he had to admit, she really was quite cute and very, very kind.. and rather smart for her age as well. And he knew that she’d make some man very, very happy someday. It just wouldn’t be him.

He did what was asked of him. He measured out the correct amount of powdered Griffin claw. He made sure he and his partner had enough salamander blood for their strengthening solution. And he smiled back at his partner, though his heart and his mind were still with the girl he’d dance with one day.

The Hufflepuff tried her hardest to capture his heart, but it belonged to someone he had yet to meet.

She wasn’t the one that felt like home.

-- -

Sixteen-year-old George Weasley didn’t understand why all of his classmates wanted to snog people and move onto someone else without so much as a blink.

So many people were pairing off and lasting less than a week before moving onto someone new. George rattled his brain for answers, he searched the eyes of his classmates for explanations, but he couldn’t understand why people would want to hop from one person to another. Didn’t they want to find love, a love that’s long lasting and pushes boundaries and moves mountains and weathers the storms it meets?

But perhaps, he worried, maybe that’s where he was going wrong.

Maybe, in order to find what he truly yearned for, he needed to be reckless and love without really loving.

Maybe he needed to search less, in order to find her.

And so he decided, with much persuasion from Fred, that he’d ask that pretty brunette Ravenclaw to the Yule Ball, and he’d dance and drink firewhisky and maybe he’d even kiss her, if the courage he tried to summon stayed with him throughout the night.

And maybe if he did all those things, he’d forget about the one his heart desperately craved.

And for a little while, he really did forget. Perhaps he could get on board with this “love the one you’re with” mentality. Maybe he could just be in the moment without worrying about everyone else. Maybe he could kiss girls without feeling anything, maybe he could date casually, maybe he could be like everyone else his age and not think about weddings and marriage and having children.

“Georgieee,” the Ravenclaw slurred on the dance floor. She tugged on his tie and pulled him close. He could smell the firewhisky on her breath and his heart began to pound when she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Dance with meeee.”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more than this. He’d always wanted more than this.

George begrudgingly agreed and caught Fred’s eye from across the dance floor. The elder twin threaded his brows together and pushed the air with his hands, as if encouraging his younger brother to go for it. The Ravenclaw dazedly draped her arms across George’s shoulders and he sheepishly looked down toward his feet, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“George Weasleeeeyyyy,” she slurred again, hiccoughing in between giggles, “I said dance with meeeeeee.”

He tried to fight it, tried not to think of what he always did, but he couldn’t help it.

This girl was not the one. He could tell, because there was no love in the way she said his name. There was no true feeling in the surplus of kisses she kept pressing to his jawline, and there was no warmth radiating from her -- not the kind that mattered, anyway.

He knew, as he placed his hands gently on her waist and swayed with her to the music, that this was not what love felt like. This is not what home felt like.

He danced anyway, even though it was not the kind of dancing he’d seen his parents do all those years ago, and he allowed himself to think about what the rest of his classmates weren’t -- the person he’d hold in his arms, who’d be the mother to his children, who’s kisses would send him spiraling, who’s embraces would become all too familiar in a way that would comfort him in the darkest of times.

He allowed himself again, to dream of true love.

-- -

Seventeen-year-old George Weasley was sick and tired of waiting for the one.

It sounded kind of dramatic in his own head, seeing as he was only seventeen, but he’d known now for ten years exactly what he was looking for, and ten years seemed like a lifetime.

It didn’t help that nearly all of his friends had gotten over their casual dating scene and were now all enthralled with their significant others. He felt so painfully lonely, though he’d never admit it to a soul. He could hardly admit it to himself.

One evening, he shot up from the couch and out of the common room in a fit of fury, for if he had to see Fred and Angelina snogging in the corner for one more minute, he was quite certain he was going to explode from disgust. He was happy for his brother, of course he was, but he didn’t need to see it. Not as often as that.

He found Ron sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny, Harry, and Hermione and plopped beside them all before engaging in exciting rounds of exploding snap. But as the night grew darker and he grew more tired, George noticed the undeniable chemistry between his sister and Harry and his brother and Hermione. Though they all hadn’t admitted to one another how they felt, George had found it obvious, and he politely excused himself before he tugged his jacket rather angrily around his shoulders before he walked out into the winter storm, just to feel the cold air numb his skin.

He walked out of the castle, over toward the owlery, through the treacherous amounts of snow. Anything to distract George from everyone who’d apparently been hit by Cupid’s bloody arrow.

Ever since he was born, it had always been Fred and George. What about George and Fred? Was it because Fred was older? And why were people always lumping them together? Just because they’re twins? George loathed that. They were individuals too. He was always second, in everything.

In getting hand-me-downs from his older brothers. In being referred to with his twin. In lessons when the professors would call out their names for attendance, because F came before G in the alphabet. And even when it came to love; all the girls always seemed to flock to Fred instead, because he was more exciting. More boisterous. Less shy.

The cold, winter air bit violently at his exposed skin, and he reckoned it hurt less than watching everyone around him find someone that chose them, all while he was still waiting for the right person to choose him.

George Weasley didn’t want to be someone’s second choice.

He wanted to be someone’s first.

-- -

Twenty-year-old George Weasley didn’t know how exactly he ended up here.

He didn’t know how he ended up in a relationship three years deep, without having said “I love you” once and actually meaning it.

George thought he might’ve found her, his person, during his seventh year. She was beautiful and kind and everything he thought he’d hoped and dreamt of. Her soft touch, her yearning eyes, the way she curled up next to him in the dormitories late at night and held onto him as she slept -- it was everything, and it seemed to be perfect.

He thought that maybe, perhaps, she was it. But even so, he found himself waiting, still, for that feeling… the one on the staircase he’d felt so long ago.

But the pain of realizing that she wasn’t who he’d been searching for was more heartbreaking than the pain of him asking her to leave.

He’d been looking at her through rose coloured lenses and had been ignoring the truth that was right in front of him.

He should’ve left years ago, when that Gryffindor girl began to make backhanded jokes about the shop, and his dreams of becoming a business entrepreneur, claiming that she was only joking around.

He should’ve left when that girl showed up late to the grand opening of their shop, nearly a year into their relationship.

He should’ve left when he held her in his arms, and still didn’t feel comfortable beside her.

His heart ached for it, what he’d felt on the staircase at the mere age of seven. And perhaps he’d become so desperate for it, that he took something disguised as true love.

But the truth was that he knew, deep in his soul, that this Gryffindor girl wasn’t the one. He’d just chosen, outright, to ignore it. Perhaps if he could forget that idea that “the one” would smack him square in the face with an overwhelming sensation of knowing, he could have learned to love her, even when he hadn’t had that smack in the face moment when he’d met her all those years ago.

But it hadn’t happened, had it? He hadn’t grown to love her. Not truly, anyway. And she hadn’t grown to love him. Not in the way he wanted to be loved, at least.

Because it was more than just heated kisses and lazy days in bed and all things physical that he wanted.

It was about love. Pure, blinding, unadulterated love.

He stood frozen solid in the middle of his tiny flat and watched as that Gryffindor girl grabbed her coat off of the hanger and raised her hand slightly before slipping silently into the dimly lit hallway for the very last time. And George poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat near the window, looking up at the stars, expecting to feel sad at her departure, but in fact, he didn’t feel sad at all.

He felt hopeful.

He hadn’t found the one yet, but he knew she was out there, getting to him as fast as she possibly could.

Though his brothers had urged him to come to the pub and meet someone else, George didn’t fancy the idea of doing that. He was over that entire scene, just as he was in school when everyone was pairing off and moving on immediately. He didn’t want something fleeting, and he didn’t want something meaningless.

He wanted something true.

-- -

Twenty-three-year old George Weasley was certain that he was never going to find that feeling ever again, for as long as he lived.

While all of his friends were out at the pubs, meeting people and fooling around as if feelings weren’t involved, George was walking aimlessly through the streets to work. He was constantly dealing with the haze above his head, waiting for it to lift. He was turning down girls left and right and ignoring his brothers’ insistence on dating casually again.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time on people who weren’t going to reach out and trace circles onto his chest in the middle of the night, or who weren’t going to dance around the kitchen in his clothes while cooking dinner, or who weren’t going to look at him with eyes so tender, it would render him useless for days to come.

He’d been waiting sixteen years to find his person, the one who would choose him everyday over everyone else, and in hindsight it didn’t quite seem like a long time. But as he cried silently to himself every few nights in bed, feeling the empty space next to him and yearning for the one who was meant to be there, sixteen years felt like a lifetime.

He thought for a long while, that maybe she was in another country, or maybe she was an auror or something, fighting her way through the monsters of the wizarding world.

He’d thought for a bit that perhaps he just hadn’t met her yet.

But as the days dragged on and he found himself lost in crowds, searching face after face, looking for hers, he truly felt as though all hope was lost.

And so George paced back and forth in the kitchen of his flat, biting at his nails and pouring himself hefty glasses of wine, keen on ignoring everyone’s attempts at getting him to come out.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe because he wasn’t out there, sleeping with people whose names he wouldn’t remember come morning like everyone else, he was just going to be alone.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for him. Maybe not everyone finds true love. Maybe his parents had just gotten lucky.

The dull ache in George’s heart grew stronger, and for the upteenth night in a row, he laid in bed and gripped the covers and cried himself to sleep, his tears sliding down his cheeks the same way the evening rain slid down the window terrace.

-- -

Twenty-four-year old George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he felt it.

That feeling. The one from the staircase as he watched his parents dance, all those years ago.

Heart pounding, chest rising, hands freezing.

It hit him square in the chest without warning, nearly knocking him over though his feet were rooted into the ground at the spot, smack dab in the middle of that cafe in the middle of London.

Someone was playing a slow, soft piano tune coming from the other end. People were filtering in and out, asking the man in front of them what exactly he was staring at and why he wasn’t moving. But George Weasley stood where he was, not taking his eyes off of you.

You were reading furiously, flipping through pages of a book gripped tightly in your hands, as though you couldn’t devour the plot fast enough. George watched with admiration as a gentle smile tugged at your lips, as your eyes scanned the words quickly, as you tapped your foot on the ground, in rhythm with that slow piano.

He watched with dazed eyes and parted lips as you finished the end of your book. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue and clutched the book tightly to your chest, overwhelmed, clearly, by the end of the plot. George’s heart soared so high at your passion that he found himself struggling to hold back the I love you that was pressing behind his lips.

You immediately took a long sip of your tea and placed your finished book back into your bag, only to pull out another and immediately immerse yourself in the next story. George laughed to himself, stunned that you were so intent on falling into someone else’s storyline, if only for a little while, that you hadn’t dared take a break from one book to the next. You merely jumped right in.

He wondered if his overwhelming feelings called out to you like a signal of sorts, because just as he was working up the courage to walk over to you, you looked up. You searched the room for a moment before meeting his gaze and suddenly, the world around you both stopped.

George found himself wanting to know everything about you. He itched to devour up any and all information you’d be so kind to provide to him -- your name, your favorite color, your birthday. He wanted to know what book you’d just been reading, and what about it had moved you so much to the point of tears. He wanted to know everything, but deep in his soul, he also knew that he’d have years to learn it all.

In fact, he’d have the rest of forever.

Your eyes went soft and George began to feel the steady pounding of his heart increase, and to his amazement, he noticed a gentle smile tug at the edges of your lips.

And he smiled back.

He’d been right all along. That feeling of finding the one would smack him square in the face. He wondered, as he peered at you now, biting down on your bottom lip and looking toward the ground, why he’d ever doubted himself in the first place. And he wondered when you looked back up at him once again and raised a hand to say hello, if you’d been smacked in the face with that feeling too, just like he had.

He resisted the urge to pour his heart out to you, right here and right now. He’d have time.

Perhaps today was just about having today, and recognizing that you were everything he’d been looking for since that evening on the staircase.

He’d tell you this one day.

-- -

“And what does… Lumox mean again?”

George laughed and squeezed your hands. “You mean, Lumos?”

You bit your lip in embarrassment and laughed, too. “Yes! Lumos. That’s the one that produces light, right?”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. You two were seated inside a bustling restaurant in Diagon Alley, and he wondered if people passing by realized just how cozy you two looked together. “You’re more brilliant than most witches I know.”

You cocked your head to the side with an air of confidence and batted your eyelashes at him. “What can I say, Georgie? I may have been born a… Mugglie… but maybe I was meant to be a witch.”

George had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t get over how painfully adorable you were as you attempted to pronounce these wizarding words and learn spells and charms and things as he taught you all things about the wizarding world. You took his wand and pointed it at your wine glass, pretending to transfigure it. You couldn’t, of course, since you weren’t a magical being. But George didn’t mind. He could watch you pretend all day long.

In all his years of studying magic, he’d never felt anything quite like this.

BONUS, just because i hate feeling sad asf:

Thirty-two-year old George Weasley rocked his redheaded daughter back and forth in his arms, until he was certain that she was sound asleep again -- her mouth open wide as she began to snore softly when he placed her back into her crib.

He peered up at the clock on the wall and blinked a few times before 4:32 a.m. came into focus. Exhausted, he made his way back into his room before sliding into bed.

And there it was again. That feeling.

You turned over in bed to face him, squinting in the darkness as your eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before you. Groggily, you reached out and traced your fingers across his jawline. His heart nearly stopped. “Is she alright?” you asked sleepily.

George grinned softly and leant forward before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He whispered, “She’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Though your eyes were already shut, you reached out again and took his hand in yours before bringing your lips gently to his fingers. “Okay.. I love you.. G’night..”

But you were asleep again before George could respond, so instead he pulled you closely to him and began to gently trace circles on your bare shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, and listened intently for the beating of your heart that had fallen into sync with his.

Tears pushed at the edges of his eyes, but he slowed his breathing and reminded himself, again, that there was no longer an empty space beside him in bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given up hope, but perhaps giving up hope was what made finding you so much sweeter.

If only he could tell seven-year-old George what he’d find when the time was right.

And in the darkness, as the rain pattered on the rooftop of his house and he felt your embrace tighten around his body, he whispered into the silence, “I love you, too.”

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @acciotwinz @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @holland-parkers @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @awritingtree @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyinhserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @hufflepuff5972 @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 @teawiththeweasleys @pit-and-the-pen @phuvioqhile @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @harrypotter289 @lovefromrosie | message me if you’d like to be added or removed or have changed your URL so i can update!

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #george weasley imagines #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Constellations

Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1250

Warnings: Smut. Incredibly fluffy smut. 

A/N: For @deanwanddamons​ 2K Challenge! My quote was “I want to play a game.” Thanks so much for letting me join in on this, and congrats! 

Her fingers graze his skin, trailing up his shoulder blades, skating over the knobs of his spine, and Dean smiles into the pillow.  

“What’s the game today?” he asks sleepily. There’s no rhyme or reason to the touch that he can tell. Sometimes she traces words into his skin, spelling out secret messages just for him. Sometimes she tries to guess the stories behind the scars — she always kisses them afterward, sweet and reverent.

“Making constellations,” she answers. “Stay right where you are for a sec.”

“Don’t think I could move if I tried.” 

He loves this about her. She plays games and sees beauty in his skin, and she marvels at the tiny everyday wonders: freckles, sunsets, coffee. She always points out wildflowers on the side of the road. If they’re walking through the woods she’ll stop and turn over logs and exclaim at every salamander as if she’s never seen one before. She compliments strangers and makes faces at children and always sings in the shower. 

Dean didn’t have that innocent, childish sort of wonder in his life — not until he met her. Face down enough gods and monsters, you start to get a little jaded about the everyday things. Spend too much time focusing on the darkness in the world, you start to lose sight of the light that shines through. 

She rummages through something on the desk, for a second, and then she comes back, straddling his hips again. She leans forward, draping herself over him, breasts and stomach soft against his bare skin. It’s such a random touch, and there’s nothing inherently sexual in it, but Dean has yet to find a way of making contact between their bodies that doesn’t turn him on. 

“This one here, we’re going to call it Impalus,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. The ink is cool on his skin. “According to ancient myth, it was the mighty chariot of warriors. Instead of sending its broken pieces to the scrap yard, Zeus hung them from the heavens.”  

“Feminine ends in A in Latin,” Dean mumbles. “Still just Impala.” He’s no Sam, but all those years of reciting incantations and poring over spell books have taught him a couple things. 

If he was in her place, he’d make some snarky comment about that, call him a geek, but she just hums in agreement and brushes her lips over the patch of skin. 

The marker tickles as she draws another new constellation on his shoulder. Dean doesn’t mind. 

It seems appropriate: connecting the dots, taking scattered pinpricks of light and weaving them together, giving them meaning, turning them into more than they were. 

Dean has always tried to hold onto scraps of joy, snatches of family dinners and the moments when the perfect song comes on the radio, but sometimes he used to lose track of the good memories. Sometimes they got swallowed in the darkness. 

These days, it’s different. She draws his attention to the joy, and now he can’t stop seeing all these little sparks that illuminate his life. This morning alone: the smell of bacon when he woke up — the smile on her face when he wrapped his arms around her — the way her voice echoed off the tile as she stood pink-cheeked in the steam — and this, right here, right now: lying in their bed, his legs tangled in sheets, and the fact that they smell like her, because she’s woven herself into every part of his life all the way down to the cotton fibers that brush her skin at night. 

There are so many tiny everyday wonders that Dean never would’ve noticed before, and then there’s her, tying it all together, taking the scattered fleeting moments of joy in his life and turning them into a story. She makes it all mean something. She shows him pictures in the stars when he’s forgotten to look for the light. 

She’s tickling his ribs, and Dean laughs, tries to buck her off, rolls over onto his back. She straddles him, naked, eyes lit up with mischief, and Dean tickles her right back. 

It’s playful until it’s abruptly not, and isn’t that always how it goes with her? One moment she’s batting away his hands, shrieking with laughter, and the next moment he’s resting his palms on her belly and reeling with the enormity of what they’re doing. 

Then she’s kissing him, soft sweet mouth plush and eager on his as she laces their fingers together and pins his hands to the pillow, and — 

“God, that’s —” he chokes out, as she rolls her hips. 

“Fuck. Dean.” 

— and then she’s squirming, rocking until he’s pressed right between her legs, slotted in against slick heat, teasing the length of him without letting him in. Her mouth is open and red, and she’s still pinning him, so he can’t capture her lips, but he strains against her grip, leans up and gets his mouth on her nipple to tug it between his teeth. She makes a dirty desperate noise and lets go, reaching down between them to guide him into her, and as soon as his hands are free he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down, running his hands over every part of her he can reach. 

He crushes her to his chest as she squeezes around his cock and gasps into his mouth, and it feels so good he’s seeing stars. She grinds down on him, hips swiveling, clenching hot-wet-tight like her body is trying to suck him in deeper as she works herself up. 

He loves the way she looks when she doesn’t give a fuck how she looks. He loves the way her muscles shift, the way her tits and ass bounce and jiggle, the way her skin shines with sweat — it’s art. Dean wishes he could paint or sculpt or do anything that could capture the agonized, ecstatic look on her face, because it’s art. She’s art. 

She’s moaning, rough and filthy. Her cunt is silky-soft and dripping as she squeezes around him, and she curses like a goddamn sailor: “Motherfucker — so fucking close, Dean — don’t you fucking dare stop — fuck, I love you.” 

Sacred and profane all at once, like the best art is. 

Dean has a fistful of her soft hair and a ribcage full of this hammering swollen thing that used to be his heart, and he’s so in love with her he can’t think straight. 

She’s close, close enough that all she can do is move, less coordinated and more frantic by the second. Dean rolls his hips, grinding into her, and then she shudders and shouts as her orgasm hits. The living heat of her body ripples and spasms around him and sends him over the edge, and the world dissolves into white light, bright enough to blind him. 

Dean’s seen miracles in his time. He’s seen things that shook the earth and rattled the heavens, and somehow the biggest miracle is the fact that he made it through to this moment: cradling her close, stroking her skin, imagining the microscopic spark of life inside her as the last faraway star completing a massive constellation… Dean can’t see the pattern yet, can’t figure out what shape it’ll all take, but he knows she’ll be there to help him make sense of the story. She always knows how to connect the dots. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

#deanwanddamons2kcelebration #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

[bowtiesandflutes]

First Trip In The Tardis (Part One)

First Doctor

You were wary about entering the small Police Box, but once you saw how spacious it was inside, your curiosity took over, you went inside while Polly did her best to explain while the Doctor piloted the Tardis. You walked out of the Tardis last and looked around at your surroundings.

"We've moved." You were awestruck.

"Did we? Ah, yes, great observation." You glared at the Doctor who was walking ahead. "Well, come on then."

You followed him, and Polly sent you a smile. She knew that you would be staying with them before the first sign of danger came. You were looking around in amazement, and although the Doctor sounded annoyed by your questions, he was the one who invited you to stay on the Tardis.

Second Doctor

You looked around in wonder, Jamie and Victoria standing to the side as you waited for the Doctor. You touched the console, leaning against it in disbelief. "He wasn't kidding. He really is an alien." You whispered, more to yourself than the two companions.

Jamie and Victoria weren't sure what to say, and the Scotsman went outside to see if the Doctor was coming. You looked at the Tardis in astonishment, and when you heard Jamie talking, you turned around your relieved smile, faltering when you saw the Doctor walk in. Or that's what he wanted you to believe. But you had been married to Ramón for many years, and you knew the one difference that set the two look alike apart. Their eyes.

You watched as he approached the console, his eyes wandering over you, and you were familiar with the rage radiating off of him.

He reached for the console before touching his head, gesturing for Jamie to pilot the time machine. Jamie hesitated, observing the 'Doctor' closely.

"But you said, never to touch the controls," Jamie said.

"Quite right, Jamie."

A relieved sigh left your lips when you saw the Doctor in the doorway.

"Welcome to the Tardis."

"Thank you," Ramón said. "You're doing so well impersonating me..." He looked at you, and you couldn't meet his gaze, looking up when he diverted his attention back to the Doctor. "I thought I might return the compliment. And Kent, unfortunately, didn't survive the explosion."

"What did you do to him?" You asked, barely above a whisper.

"Doesn't matter." He stepped towards you, "I would much prefer we talk about what you have done." Jamie stepped forward, and you stopped him from reaching Ramón.

"We're going to put you outside, Salamander." The Doctor spoke up, adding to the tension. "No friends. No safety. Nothing. You'll run, but they will catch up with you."

Ramón grabbed you suddenly, holding you in front of him, his fingers digging into your neck. His lips brushed against your ear, and you closed your eyes fearfully while he whispered, "I will make you suffer pain you have never experienced before, or have believed was ever possible."

"Ramón, please -" You pleaded.

His grip on your neck tightened, and Jamie sneaked behind him while he was occupied, keeping his eyes on the Doctor, who was trying to get him to let you go.

You gasped when Ramón's grip loosened, and you grabbed his arm, bitting his hand before rushing forward. The Doctor moved you behind him when Jamie was shoved aside, Ramón angrily approaching. You watched as he grabbed the Doctor, punching his stomach, holding him against the console. Surging forward to try and get him to release the Doctor, you pounded his back with your fists, but he didn't let go.

He grabbed your arm and shoved you aside.

"Now, I'm going to kill you," Ramón told the Doctor.

Jamie grabbed his shoulders, "No, you don't." Ramón elbowed him in the ribs and shoved him away, fiddling with controls on the console.

The Doctor moved over to you as you rubbed your arm. "Are you alright?" He asked before the Tardis taking flight sent you both rolling to the side. You screamed when the room turned, sliding across the floor. The Doctor grabbed onto the chair, catching your hand, and you watched Ramón fall out of the Tardis, closing your eyes tightly.

The Doctor managed to get the Tardis to stabilize, and you sat up, wiping away tears as you thought of Ramón. He was not a good man, but you did love him once.

The Doctor helped you off the floor while Jamie aided Victoria. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and Jamie and Victoria glanced at you both with a smile before leaving to give you privacy.

"So...this is space." You looked at the screen, showing the stars.

The Doctor smiled softly, fiddling with controls before the doors opened. You stared at him, a slow smile forming on your lips as you took his outstretched hand, moving to the doors.

You rested your head on his shoulder, looking out at the stars. "It's beautiful - more than that it's -"

He smiled, nodding in agreement. "I don't s-suppose you would care to join me? In the Tardis?"

You lifted your head from his shoulder, "I thought you were crazy from the day we met. Who would dare impersonate Ramón Salamander? Who would do this -" you leaned in to kiss him tenderly, pulling away moments later.

"How did you know I wasn't Salamander?" He asked, covering your hand on his chest with his.

"Your eyes...they're much kinder than he ever was."

Third Doctor

You watched him with a smile before looking around the console room. "I have to admit that I was always skeptical after you told me you weren't human, but this... it's incredible."

The doors closed, and you heard a whirring noise and turned to the Doctor. "What's happening?"

"We're taking off."

"What? No, no, go back."

"I can't." He said.

"You can just press cancel or something." You approached him, and he looked at you.

"I'm afraid it is much more complicated than that."

"Well, do something!"

The Tardis stopped, and you headed to the doors, "Thank you!"

"Wait -" He sighed when you didn't listen, looking at you with a raised eyebrow when you walked in moments later.

"We're not on Earth." You said glumly.

"Cheer up. We'll get back..."

"As soon as you cause trouble?" You finished knowingly. He smiled and got his cloak, walking out the Tardis. You looped your arm with his, looking around. "I should have listened to the Brigadier."

"Then, you would be missing all the fun."

Fourth Doctor

"It's times like this when we need a Brigadier." You shouted, shrieking as you ducked under a table. Cybermen had surrounded you, and your only refuge was a desk that was starting to fall apart.

The Doctor looked at you with a wide grin, "Yes, he does have his moments."

You mirrored his smile as he poked his head around the side, narrowly missing being hit. "Is traveling with you always like this?"

"Yes!" Sarah and Harry answered, making you giggle.

Fifth Doctor

"B-But -" You grinned at the stammering Time Lord.

"Wow, three seconds, and you're already speechless." You walked to him, leaning into his ear, "This will be fun."

You were prepared for trouble having traveled with the future Doctor for many years, but seeing the group of companions, each capable in their own way, following a Doctor known for his sweet side, wasn't the only thing you had in mind when you traveled back in time. But getting trapped hadn't been anticipated. You weren't against it, though, as it meant more time with him.

Even if Daleks chased you relentlessly.

"You want a sneak peek of the future?" You removed your robe and threw it over the Dalek before kicking it out the window. "Now, run!"

The Doctor stood awestruck for a moment before catching up with you, Teegan following behind. He took his jacket off as he ran, handing it to you.

"My, you are a gentleman." You smirked, putting it on to cover yourself.

"Does she have to go back to the future?" Teegan asked.

The Doctor didn't answer. It was your first adventure with him, and you were already naked, covered by his jacket. He could only imagine what his future would be like with you in it. Interesting just didn't seem enough to describe it.

Sixth Doctor

The sixth doctor was different from the fifth. In his first few minutes, you could see he was already going crazy. You sat across from him on the console, and he glanced at you but didn't say a word.

"I can't believe you tried to strangle Peri." You spoke up after a few minutes.

"I can't believe you pulled my hair to stop me."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes!"

"Good." You got off the console and moved him away from the controls. "I'm choosing where we go."

He was about to object, realizing now it had been a mistake to teach you how to pilot the Tardis. But when you raised an eyebrow, he decided not to stop you.

You smiled at Peri when she walked in, warily glancing at the Doctor who had calmed down after a few hours of sleep. His attitude, however, would take much longer.

"How about Brazil?" You suggested, glaring at him when he tried to speak. Peri smiled, and you told her to get changed before turning to the Doctor. "Don't worry; you'll get her back. Once I've had my fun."

He glared at you, but there was a smile on his lips that gave you hope he still had some of the sweetness of Five in him.

Seventh Doctor

The Iceworld had looked promising in the beginning, and when you discovered why the Doctor had brought Ace, it led to two hours arguing back and forth before he did apologize, and you continued to travel with him to protect Ace.

Eighth Doctor

You sat beside him at the doors, looking out at the supernova he had brought you to. The Master was gone, and since neither of you could get any sleep, but weren't prepared for another adventure just yet, he extended the shields to allow you to breath as you watched the supernova.

You rested your head on his shoulder, causing him to smile. "If we get to have moments like this, no threats from the Master, I think I'm going to enjoy traveling with you."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

"I'm glad you agreed to join me. There's no one else I'd rather be with right now." He confessed.

Your kiss in the heat of the moment flooded back, and you felt the impulse to relive it. You glanced at his lips, finding them getting closer and met him halfway, smiling as your lips met.

Yeah, you would enjoy every minute of this.

War Doctor

It wasn't an easy decision to make. You knew what the device could do but you never expected it to become necessary. The Daleks were destroying Gallfirey, the Capitol was close to falling and you knew by the look in his eyes that if there was another way he would chose it. You took his hand and sent him a grim nod, silently promising to come back one day with with better answer. You activated the device and he gripped your hand as you both raced to the nearest Tardis, escaping the blast to the stars. You stared down at the planet as it was destroyed, taking every Dalek ship with it. You cried silently, watching your home disappear into nothing. You looked at the Doctor who was equally as devastated, wrapping your arms around his neck. You had never left Gallifrey before and you wished you never had to. But you couldn't go back ever again.

Ninth Doctor

"I can't slow them down. You need to keep running." He told you over the phone. You looked at Rose and Adam worriedly. "So hurry up."

"We have to move. Come on!" You sprinted as fast as you could, hearing the Dalek behind you. The door was closing, and you knew what you had to do. You pushed Rose under and then Adam, your hand meeting the door as it closed. You pressed your forehead against it as you heard the Dalek speak.

"Exterminate!"

You held the phone to your ear when you heard the Doctor shouting your name. "Sorry, Doctor. It looks like you're going to have to leave without me."

You turned to the Dalek when it repeated, "Exterminate!"

Your eyebrows furrowed when it didn't shoot you, shooting the cellphone in your hand.

"Well, go on! Shoot me!" You stared at it curiously when its eyestalk moved around. "If you can."

It looked at the surveillance camera, and you gasped when it aimed its gun at you, looking up when you could hear the Doctor over the speakers.

"Y/N! You're alive!"

You smiled softly at the camera. "For now." You glanced at the Dalek warily.

"Open the door, or the human dies."

You swallowed thickly, looking at the camera. "Don't do it."

"I'm sorry." He opened the door, and you were ushered through by the Dalek. You hoped the Doctor had a brilliant plan. Otherwise, he hasn't saved you, only prolonged your death and many others.

Tenth Doctor

You were a reminder of what he had lost when he closed the void. His eyes held sadness when he looked at you, and it broke your heart. But you were from an alternative timeline, and he couldn't risk you meeting your alternate self. So you were brought along in the Tardis. And an evil robot Santa was not the first thing that came to mind when you imagined your first trip. Nor did you anticipate a bride appearing in the Tardis, but today was full of surprises.

You looked at the Doctor, flinching when the Tardis crashed a few times before catching up to the taxi. "I need you to pull that lever when I say!" He told you.

Anxiously you took over while he opened the door. You waited for the Doctor to fall in with Donna, closing the doors before pulling the lever.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you lowered your head, smiling at the Tardis console when she hummed.

"Thanks."

You looked at the Doctor as he approached the console, taking over. You stood to the side awkwardly, and Donna sent you a smile, glancing at the Doctor who focused on figuring out the truth behind the Santa and Donna's ability to come aboard the Tardis in flight, in space.

You were a good fighter, intelligent and beautiful, but your presence had cost him a dear friend. And you didn't want to have a second trip with him.

But after defeating the Racnoss, his eyes had lit up for the first time when he looked at you. You were trying to give him space to mourn, but having company would help him do so. And Donna's advice worked, he opened up more and soon you become one of his best memories, not a sad one.

Eleventh Doctor

It had taken the Doctor a lot of time to convince you to join him. Rory was glaring at the Doctor, the whole flight, and you knew his excitement about a new person on board was irritating Rory.

"We could go to a supernova!"

"She wouldn't like supernovas."

You sighed, looking at the Doctor who was starting to get annoyed with your brother hitting down all his suggestions.

"How about a planet?"

"Y/N doesn't like aliens. Not after last time."

You looked at Rory with a small smile. "Brother dearest, maybe I can change my mind."

And it only got worse when you arrived in Venice. The psychic paper was unpredictable, and even the Doctor had trouble doing it right.

"She is not your wife!" Rory raged, reading the psychic paper.

"Or am I?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Time travel, Rory. I may not be now, but I could be."

The Doctor smiled at you, knowing you were trying to ease the tension, but your comment only annoyed Rory more.

"You go that way, and we'll go this way." Amy pulled Rory to the left despite his protests, and you smiled at the floppy-haired alien beside you.

You looped arms with the Doctor forgetting the tension between him and Rory as you left the couple to explore Venice.

And you stumbled upon something that blew your mind.

You ran towards him, chests touching with each breath you took. "Vampires!" You squealed.

"I know!" He exclaimed excitedly.

You looked over his shoulder and saw a group of girls approaching. "We should run." He took your hand, and you giggled as you followed.

Suddenly he was pulled back in, and you quickly grabbed the light and used it to hit them back. He grinned as you grabbed his hand, pulling him up and continued to run.

"Y/N Williams, I love you!" He said.

"Don't tell Rory!" You laughed.

Twelfth Doctor

"What do you need me to do?" You interrupted the Doctor, who was insulting Danny for deactivating his device.

Considering the Blitzer had returned, you believed he had a reason to be annoyed, but right now, his insults weren't helping.

"I can hold it off while you reactivate it," Danny suggested.

You looked at the Doctor, "And I could help."

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. You didn't have much time to admire the Tardis as you helped the Doctor expel the Blitzer out into space. You watched in awe of the stars and the Time Lord as he piloted the ship.

You watched the monitor with a small smile and looked at the Doctor who looked away from you, to Courtney, a pupil who had sneaked on board.

"Uh, just kiss already."

You raised an eyebrow at her and mentioned the punishment she would get when you arrived back on Earth.

"Shut up." He warned her when she was about to reply.

Thirteenth Doctor

"What do we do?" You shouted, holding onto the console when the doors opened. You watched her fall and quickly tried to tilt the Tardis, so she stopped falling and closed the doors. "What do I do?"

"Pull...the lever!" She struggled to hold on as you followed her instructions.

The Tardis tipped to the side, and she fell inside rather than drifting outside, the doors closing with a flick of a switch. You looked at her with a smile when she jumped up, holding onto the console.

"That was fun. Can we do that again?"

The Tardis began to fall, and you both tried to stabilize it. "Hold onto something!"

The doors opened, and you screamed when she fell backward. You quickly tried to close them, reaching for her hand, but the Time Lady fell from the Tardis, leaving you in a crashing time machine.

Finding her again was difficult, but you had never been so relieved to see her. You greeted the group with a small smile when the Doctor introduced you.

"You landed her?" She asked. "How?"

You tapped your head, and she walked into the Tardis. The interior was different but spacious. You stood beside the Doctor, "I guess this is goodbye."

"You want to leave?" She frowned.

"I just thought...there's three of them." You said.

She smiled at you, "I don't want you to go." You would've hugged her if you didn't know better.

"Okay. So Sheffield...anything interesting?" You asked.

"No," Ryan answered.

You chuckled, "There must be something." You said.

The Doctor smiled at you, and you returned it after catching her staring. It was a big change, and you would help her through it. All four of you would.

Fourteenth Doctor

Donna lingered behind with a smile as The Doctor rushed ahead to the Tardis, your hand in his, and her smile grew when a giggle left your lips at his excitement. You looked around the outside, smiling softly, "New wood. Nice."

"New Sonic." He took the screwdriver out of his pocket and you took it, 'oohing' much to Donna's amusement while the Doctor smiled at you fondly.

"What's wrong with my oohing?" You asked the redhead.

"No wonder he thought he was so impressive." Donna said, mimicking how you 'oohed'.

"He is impressive." You said at the same time the Doctor said, "I am impressive!"

He smiled at you fondly while Donna rolled her eyes. "Ready?"

You nodded, and you covered your eyes as he unlocked the Tardis. You felt his hands on your shoulders as he guided you inside. "Wait!"

You giggled when you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he rushed off, and kept your hands over your eyes. The Doctor turned on all the lights, and Donna closed the doors with a smile. It had been many years since you had travelled together yet something's never changed.

"Alright, go ahead, open them."

You lowered your hands, and the Doctor smiled, his lips forming a grin as you took in the new interior. "Oh. My. God. Oh my god! Oh my god!" Donna laughed as your voice raised in volume, and you approached the console, turning around in awe.

"I know, we can finally see where we're going," Donna remarked, earning a petulant look from the Doctor before he looked at you as you stood next to him.

"Ooh, buttons."

"You know, I've missed your appreciation for buttons." He murmured, eliciting laughter from you.

"What do they do?" You asked.

"I haven't got the foggiest idea." He smiled, chuckling when you laughed, leaning against his arm.

Delgado!Master

"You had to get involved with Axos." You grumbled.

The Master sighed. You had been talking for hours, stopping for a while before thinking of more to say.

"I'll find a way out." He said.

"The Doctor will, you mean. You had to come up with some plan! You promised me planets."

"Since you have been honest with me for the last," he looked at his watch, "four hours, " he met your gaze, "I will return the favor. You are -"

A man stumbled in, and you groaned when the claws captured him. The Master sighed as he observed you.

"I promise, we'll get out of this."

And he did. A friendly reunion with the Doctor and some jealousy from The Master, you were free from Axos and the Doctor taking a part of his Tardis; you were stranded on Earth but left with a decision.

You looked over at The Doctor for a moment before smiling at him. And that's when he knew you would be staying with the Master.

He looked up when you caught up to him, surprised though he didn't let it show.

"What? Life is interesting with you around." You said with a smile.

He returned it and held his arm out. You looped your arm with his and walked away from the Doctor, who believed that you could become a good influence on his old friend.

Ainley!Master

"What is this place?" You stared at the monitor, beaming with excitement before clearing your throat, crossing your arms. You had a restless night in the Tardis, trying to figure out why he had taken you and what he hopes to gain from it. And now, he had landed on a planet; you were thrilled to be leaving the Tardis and seeing the universe again. But you weren't going to let it show.

The Master gestured to the doors with a smile, and you walked out, seeing a busy city. You turned in a circle, admiring the red grass and the two burning suns.

"Don't get lost. Meet me back here in one hour." He told you.

You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Plotting to kill a King?" You asked.

"No. But I will keep that idea in mind." He smirked, walking away. You shook your head, a smile on your lips that you were unable to hold back.

You investigated the city, and when you were walking in the market, you were knocked unconscious, waking up in a dirty cell. You hadn't fully woken up when you heard the sound of a laser, seeing the Master cutting the bars.

"What did you do?" You glared at him.

"Do you want to stay in there? I can easily meld the bars back together." He said exasperated by your attitude, although it was expected when he took you from the Doctor.

"No." You huffed.

The Master cut the bars, and you climbed out, reluctantly taking his hand for aid. He pulled you out, and you both quickly ran towards the Tardis. You were grabbed from his side, and he turned, facing the group of soldiers who held you. With a huff and a roll of your eyes, you stopped your foot, biting the soldier's arm, then stealing his sword. You backed away, the Master impressed by your moves. You took his hand and ran to the Tardis, the Master swiftly putting the machine into flight. You pointed the sword at him, and he raised an eyebrow, more amused than afraid.

You lowered the sword, "Don't give me a reason to use it."

He nodded, and you placed the sword down. "This doesn't mean we're friends." You added.

"Course not."

Roberts!Master

You were never able to travel in the Tardis as his plan to take over the Doctor's time machine failed.

#first doctor x reader #second doctor x reader #third doctor x reader #fourth doctor x reader #fifth doctor x reader #sixth doctor x reader #seventh doctor x reader #eighth doctor x reader #war doctor x reader #ninth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #delgado!master x reader #ainley!master x reader #roberts!master x reader #doctor who #doctor who preferences #fourteenth doctor x reader

[thicctails]

Summer of Whump Prompt Day 2 [Food Poisoning/Starvation]

Hunter learns the true meaning of hunger when he and Echo are captured and tortured for information.

It had been four days.

 Hunter leaned against the side of the cell, the metal cuffs on his wrists chaffing the already raw skin. He had been leaning against this wall for the better part of the day, trying to conserve his energy and strength. Their captors hadn’t been feeding them, an attempt to break their spirits, he was sure. The lack of food was really starting to get to him now, he had a constant ache in his stomach and he hadn’t been able to get any rest last night. Clones lived an active lifestyle, and thus they needed a higher amount of calories to keep them going. Hunter had, at most, gone a day and a half without eating anything.

 In the cell across from him sat Echo, stripped of his prosthetic arm and any kind of tools or weapons he had on him. Echo was lying down right now, recovering from whatever torture he’d been put through today. His sides sometimes faltered, and Hunter sincerely hoped his squadmate wasn’t getting sick or had an infection. Illness hit Echo hard, and he didn’t need any extra suffering.

 His stomach growled, as it did most of the time. It had started to eat away at his fat reserves, but he had little to give. Soon, his body would start to cannibalize his muscle tissue, and then it would be all over. He rested a hand on his stomach, mentally willing it to stop making noise. His heightened hearing and already agitated state meant that any sound was louder than it should be and it pissed him off.

 Slumping down, he tried to force himself to go to sleep. He lay there with his eyes closed, staring at the darkness behind his eyes. Sleep danced around him teasingly, darting in close and then prancing back. After about half an hour of listening to his own breathing and the sound of his stomach acid eating away at his stomach’s mucus layer, he decided that sleep wouldn’t be coming to him tonight.

 Rolling over onto his side, he pressed his face against the cold stone. They’d come for him soon, he figured. At least that meant that he’d get water afterwards. They obviously wanted to keep them alive, although Hunter wasn’t quite sure how long their captors’ patience would last. They wanted information on how cloning was done on Kamino, and no matter how many times both he and Echo tried to explain that they didn’t really know, the aliens didn’t believe them. He’d been beaten, electrocuted, waterboarded, and, of course, starved, yet he couldn’t say anything that would make it stop. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything even if he did know, but it would have given him a sense of control if he’d had the choice.

 He growled and pressed his head into his arm, angry at himself for being caught. He’d been out scouting with Echo while the others stayed with Omega on the ship. She was still recovering from her brush with an icy death from a few weeks ago, and had been happy for the company. Pillow, her ever loyal guardian, had opted to stand guard at the door, ready to aggressively honk at anyone who tried to remove him.

 He’d just vaulted a rocky outcropping when he heard it. A quiet whizz that would have been imperceptible to anyone else. He’d looked for the source, but couldn’t see anything. Feeling cautious, he’d tried to com Echo, but had received no reply. That had solidified the idea that something was wrong in his head, and he had quickly started making his way towards Echo’s location. He’d just been reaching up to com Tech and Wrecker when a sharp prick of pain had appeared on the back of his neck. Suddenly, his legs no longer supported him, and he had hit the dusty dirt hard. His vision had swum, and he couldn’t feel his limbs. The last thing he remembered was seeing Echo’s prone form being dragged by an armoured humanoid that he couldn’t see the face of.

 Then he had woken up in this dark hellhole, incredibly sore and wishing he had eaten breakfast.

 The sound of footsteps made him sit up. He grumbled angrily as he waited to be taken away, his tired mind pounding inside his skull. The complete lack of food and pathetic amount of water he was given to drink was almost certainly slowly killing him, and he refused to go out like that. He’d rather be shot than slowly waste away.

 As the cage door slid open, he contemplated rushing the man that had come to drag him into the interrogation room. His arms and legs ached a the mere thought, and he was once again reminded of his weakened state, and a fresh wave of irritation rippled through him. He should have attacked his captors the first chance he got, but he’d been waiting for a better opportunity. That, it seemed, had been a mistake on his part.

 The man roughly grabbed his arm, yanking Hunter to his feet and shoving him out the door. The room swam slightly, and he wobbled a bit. He grit his teeth, frustrated. Damn this place. Damn these people for making him so weak by simply doing nothing.

   His ribs stuck out now, and it hurt to lie on his stomach. It hurt to lie on his back and side as well, but it hurt more to lie on his stomach. He was curled up in the corner, far away from the cell door. He listened to his own breathing as he simply existed in the darkness. It was slower now, strained too. His body was giving out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Their captors hadn’t come in today, perhaps they’d given up and were now just waiting for him to expire.

 He wondered what death was like. Was it dreamlike, full of the spirits of his friends and brothers who had already crossed death’s vale? Or was it like sleep, dark and empty, but you didn’t know it because you were asleep. He almost hopped it was the latter, he wasn’t sure he could look his brothers in the eye after what they’d done. What they’d been made to do.

 He wished he wasn’t alone.

 Clones did poorly in prolonged isolation, as did any social creature. Sometimes, he wondered if the loneliness affected them more because they had always been raised alongside their squadmates. Their bonds allowed them to work harmoniously, which helped keep them alive. He always slept better when his brothers were around.

 He really wished he wasn’t alone.

 Hunter did not want to die here, but if he had too, if this was it, couldn’t he at least have some company?

 …

 Beyond the boundaries of his cage, something exploded.

 The loud noise shocked Hunter back into a state of semi-alertness, and he stared wide eyed at the cloud of dust that now filled the room. As the dust settled, he saw the body of one of his captors, the one that had delighted in electrocuting him. He lay there, unmoving.

 Dead.

 The hulking figure of Wrecker stepped into the dimly lit area, Tech not far behind him. The two made eye contact with him, he could tell, even if they had their helmets on.

 Hunter smiled, then promptly passed out.

   When Hunter awoke, it was not on the stone floor of his cell.

 The material beneath him was soft, and it felt utterly divine on his poor abused back. The room was lit with a soft yellow light, washing the pristine white walls in a golden glow. A comfortable pillow was tucked behind his head, and he could feel the ache in his neck begin to melt away. A twitch of his wrist revealed an IV drip had been attached to him, which explained why he no longer felt like he was on the verge of death. But… what was that weight on his chest?

 “Honk.”

 Hunter’s eyes landed on the fat little salamander that was resting on his chest. Pillow blinked at Hunter, his round eyes shining in the light.

 “You sir,” Hunter croaked, feeling a bit loopy, “are spectacularly round.”

 “Honk.”

 “It’s true.” He replied. “You are a pudgy boy.”

 “Hunter?”

 Omega’s voice pulled him from his riveting conversation, and he coughed a bit when he felt her arms wrap around his neck.

“You’re awake!” She cried, still sounding a little raspy herself.

 Pillow slid off the bed as the rest of the Bad Batch, sans Echo, awoke. They had been sitting in some rather uncomfortable hospital chairs for some time now, waiting for their leader to awaken.

 “Hey hey, look who’s finally up!” Wrecker said, grinning.

 “Wrecker,” Hunter said, smiling as he looked at the relieved faces of his brothers, “Tech, how long have I been out?”

 “Two days. The damage your body received, both from those sniveling scumbags and from itself, took a while to fix. You’ve been hooked up to that IV ever since we brought you and Echo here.” Tech said.

 Hunter sat up, taking Omega with him. “Echo! Where is he? Is he alright?” He questioned, moving to get out of bed. Tech and Wrecker both reached forward and stopped him, gently pushing him back down.

 “Echo’s fine, he’s just resting right now. He’s in the next room over.” Omega said quickly, releasing Hunter from her death grip.

 Hunter visibly relaxed, exhaling. He looked around the room, his senses coming back to him a bit. They were muted, and in that moment that was a blessing, as he didn’t know if he could stand to just sit in a room and listen to the sounds of his body.

 “Where are we?” He asked. They obviously were not on the ship, so they had to be at a medical centre of some sort.

 “We’re at the same medical centre we took Omega to. This was the closest one we knew that would be safe to take you and Echo to.” Tech said. “We were… very worried that you wouldn’t make it.”

 “Well I did, and so did Echo. We’re gonna be just fine.” Hunter reassured them.

 “We shoulda been faster. If we had just found a way in sooner, you wouldn’t have been so hurt.” Wrecker said, crossing his arms. Both Tech and Omega looked away as well, guilt written all over their faces. Hunter frowned.

 “Hey now, none of that. You saved us, that’s all that matters.” He said as firmly as he could, his voice leaving no room for argument.

 Pillow honked from his place on the floor, seemingly in agreement.

 “See, Pillow gets it, don’t you buddy?” Hunter smiled, tilting his head to the side to look at the salamander.

 “Buddy? I thought you didn’t like Pillow?” Wrecker asked, confused.

 “I never said that. Besides, just look at him.” Pillow blinked up at them, unsure as to why he was receiving attention from all of them. “How could you not get along with such a cute little marshmallow?”

 “Marshmallow?” Omega questioned, looking at Tech and Wrecker. Wrecker shrugged while Tech’s eyes drifted over towards the IV.

 “Hmm, must be a higher dose than I thought. Usually painkillers don’t affect him this much.” He said, looking back at his usually stone-faced squad leader stretching his hand down to rub Pillow’s head.

 “Hehe, look at those wrinkles.” He chuckled softly.

 “Definitely a higher dose.” Tech laughed.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------

#bad batch #hunter bad batch #omega bad batch #the bad batch #wrecker bad batch #echo bad batch #tech bad batch #tw starvation #tw mentions of violence #star wars the bad batch #star wars #summerofwhump #summerofwhump [2] #writing challenge #whump prompt #whump #hunter whump

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Spirit

@jabs-wocks​ made a comment about being in the mood for some angst and @justlookatthosesausages​ was talking about some post F2 ending/altered canon stuff the other day so I was inspired. I also wanted to make it October prompt-esque, so this one was about the word ‘Spirit’, which eventually just became the title

Edit: Also tumblr mobile? Hate you my guy, you literally deleted the entire text as I posted it, I saw you do it, so I’m here on my desktop. [Sigh] So here’s take 2.

-----

Perhaps life would never go back to normal in Arendelle. Though, how could it? The discovery of a decades long secret? The realization that the country they loved so dearly was capable of cruelty? And what to do with the Northuldra? Unite in shared blood despite history? Make reparations but go separate ways?

These are the questions that loom over Elsa and Anna in the weeks after their adventure to the Enchanted Forest.

Despite requests to stay, Elsa did return to Arendelle. Considering the circumstances, the Northuldra didn’t take offense, and welcomed her whenever she could take time away to visit and learn. But Anna sees how the days wore on her sister, rushing this way and that, rarely ever pausing to rest.

Which isn’t new, Anna sighs, watching as Elsa sets down her quill and leaves the office, closing the door behind her. A small squeak comes from the floor and Anna sees poor Bruni plop back down after launching himself towards the gap in the doorway. He’d been a second too late.

“Aww, are you okay?” Anna kneels down to check on him. “You’ll have to forgive her, she’s got a lot on her mind.”

Bruni chirps again, giving Anna a smile and an excited pitter-patter of feet. “Oh, of course,” Anna nods, “I should have known you’d already forgiven her. A wise and powerful spirit.”

The little salamander sparks magenta flame at the praise and darts away, wiggling himself under the door and scampering after Elsa.

Though the Enchanted Forest was many miles away, the spirits are often around, and have complete freedom to roam Arendelle castle. When they visit they spend the most time around the two Fifth Spirits, acknowledging Anna as one of their own. Some are more confined than others however: the Nokk could not leave the water without Elsa’s help, but it was a pleasant enough companion to sit with by the fjord.

Anna finds the Nokk there now, observing the ships coming and going.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” Anna asks. The Nokk turns it’s watery head her way, snorting a greeting. “I used to watch them from my window all the time.” Anna takes a seat next to the horse who is lounging on the sand, where the surf laps at the shore. “I’ll bet you used to watch ships come and go near Ahtohallan, before the Forest closed up.” She brings her chin to her knees. The sea washes against the spirit’s body, absorbed at regular intervals to swirl around it’s flank and belly. “Maybe without the Mist you would have seen my parents’.”

The Nokk glances up at her, attentive. Anna gazes back, trying to find answers in it’s bright blue eyes. “Would you have saved them?” The Nokk’s ear flicks but it’s expression doesn’t change. Anna chuckles to herself. “From the stories Elsa told, perhaps you wouldn’t have. You were trapped and angry and scared in the Forest. Maybe you would have seen them as just one more threat.”

A whiny is her reply, and while Anna may still be learning about the Nokk, she’s been around flesh and blood horses enough to know that the creature in front of her does look a little remorseful.

“It’s alright, I don’t blame you.” Anna leans back and looks skyward, at the clouds racing overhead. “And I know that you would now, even if we’re both uncertain of back then. Elsa may have been at the reins, but from what I heard, it was you that sped faster than a tidal wave to make it back here before Arendelle was destroyed. And your power that helped her hold the water back. I will always be grateful to you for saving my… our home.”

The Nokk lowers it’s head and rests it near her knee, letting out a long sigh that sends ripples across the shallow waves and scatters sand towards her hands. This time, it’s eyes search hers.

Anna takes pity on the spirit. “It’s okay. You couldn’t be in two places at once. Besides,” she emphasized, “you hadn’t met me yet and the dam was in the opposite direction of Arendelle. How were you to know?”

A raising of voices sounds over the wall, a commotion in the courtyard.

“Kristoff must be back,” Anna says, rising. “I should make sure everything’s alright.” The Nokk blinks slowly in farewell and dissolves back into the sea.

She was right - Kristoff had returned. As Anna enters the gates she spies Sven already being fed and watered by an enthusiastic Olaf. The reindeer looks tired, no doubt riding hard to get back before sundown. Even the proximity of Olaf’s carrot nose doesn’t seem to perk him up.

And though it was Sven who’d done all the running, Kristoff is the one who looks the most weary. He and Elsa are deep in conversation as Anna approaches, and while she’s not yet close enough to hear, she can see by the slump in his shoulders that he’s not happy.

Ever since they returned from the Forest, Kristoff has volunteered his time connecting with the Northuldra, helping them however they needed as they adjusted to life free of the Mist. Additionally, he began serving as Arendelle’s unofficial ambassador when Elsa couldn’t be around herself. At first Elsa had tried to dissuade him, saying he needed to recover from his own experiences in the Forest, that he didn’t need to serve Arendelle in a capacity he wasn’t comfortable with. He just laughed and tugged on his sash, saying, “Well you never know, Elsa. They might just be my family too.”

The travels were clearly wearing on him, but Kristoff seemed to want to keep moving, keep occupied, always doing something with his feet and his hands.

But Anna doesn’t miss the way he sinks gratefully into Elsa’s warm embrace. Doesn’t miss the way they hug tight. How Elsa disappears behind his broad shoulder, taking a moment to hide in it’s shadow. How Kristoff’s hands pull her close, as though to remind him of something.

“It will be dark soon,” Anna hears Kristoff say as they separate. Elsa turns her head to the west, then up into the hills.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Elsa says without looking back. Kristoff nods and steps back.

A horse, already prepared, is brought to Elsa which she mounts and steers towards the gates. She’s about to leave when Kristoff calls her name softly from the ground. “Elsa?” Anna is nearly level with them now, but pauses at his tone. “It’s okay if you’re late. We… we understand. Just,” he shuffles on his feet before laying a hand on the horse’s side and meeting her eye. “Take care of yourself, promise?”

Elsa’s eyes glisten for a moment before she nods. “I’ve made a lot of promises recently,” she replies, her voice strained. “But I’ll keep this one.”

She flicks the reins and departs. Kristoff doesn’t linger either, heading back into the castle with Olaf and Sven.

Anna looks between the two groups: at the rapidly disappearing back of her sister and at the somber march of the three heading home. She puts her hands on her hips.

“Honestly,” she huffs, “no one around here knows how to take a break!”

She hears a chittering whistle above her head. Laughter, strange for certain, but a sound Anna has come to love.

“Glad you agree, Gale,” Anna smiles as Gale weaves around her clothes in greeting. Another glance tells Anna that Kristoff and the others were nearly inside. Elsa on the other hand had vanished as soon as she left town. Anna bites her lip as Gale swirls pensively around her. “I know I should probably check on Kristoff but… he does have Sven and Olaf. He- he’ll be alright, for now.” She points a finger at Gale, “But remind me, okay? If I forget that’s on you.”

Gale titters in a way that can only be sarcastic, but it only makes Anna grin wider. “Sure, sure, if I really do forget then I’ll let you toss me up and down in a whirlwind until I remember. But I think you forget that I’ve gotten pretty good at coasting your wind. It won’t be like the first time.”

At this Gale slows, almost bashful, and presses into Anna’s cheek like a cat. “It’s alright! You were just being cautious! Protecting the Forest and all. Geez,” she blew a little air of her own at the wind spirit, making it chitter that laugh again. “What’s with you spirits? So sentimental.”

She sizes up the rest of the courtyard. The horsekeeper is heading in now that his job is over, and the rest of the animals were locked away. Gale races forward, toying with a latch to one of the horse stables.

“No!” Anna reprimands. “I don’t need to take a horse. And especially since-,” she falters. “Just… walk with me? It’ll be good to have someone to talk to.”

Gale floats for a moment, then heads back to tug on Anna’s sleeve, urging her forward. “Alright, alright!” Anna laughs breathlessly, letting herself be led. “I’m coming! Aren’t I the one who invited you?”

They don’t have to travel far, Anna knows where Elsa was heading.

The sun is a golden wedge on the mountain’s rocky sides, sending deep purple shadows towards the east. There’s a clearing in the forest up ahead, one Anna knows well. She passes Elsa’s horse, giving it a wide berth so as not to spook the timid creature.

She hears the sobs she expected, but the sound still cuts her, deeper than any sword.

Elsa is on her knees before the towering headstones of their parents. She hunches over herself, arms crossed against her chest, trying to contain, still, after all these years, the grief and sorrow that live inside her ribs. Her pale hair hangs over her face, which is only a few inches from the ground.

Today has been hard.

Anna knows that Elsa had likely started standing, likely started with talking. Talking until the emotions welled up like the tide, sloshing back and forth and knocking her off balance until something tipped and it all spilled out, scattering her words and knocking her legs out from underneath her.

Anna knows because she’s seen it before: the first, second, and third time Anna took Elsa to see their parent’s grave after the Thaw.

But Anna also knows that that isn’t why Elsa is here this time.

Anna approaches and gazes at the earth before her. It’s been well kept, but of course it has. Just enough time has passed for new grass to grow, despite the soft nip of winter at the end of the night. Gifts and decorations still adorn the site, fresh flowers, a stuffed reindeer, a whittled sunflower, and many, many Arendelle flags.

A sound comes Elsa then. Raw. Agonized. Keening.

Inhuman.

Inhuman in that no human being should ever sound like the weight of their despair is crushing them, breaking them, hollowing them out.

Anna is at her side immediately, and she knows, she knows what will happen but she can’t stop herself. The sight of her sister’s suffering sends trills through her very soul, un-ignorable.

She places a hand on Elsa’s shoulder, in comfort, and watches it go right through. Ethereal. Translucent.

Ghostly.

Elsa grieves in front of a third headstone in the clearing, one that bears Anna’s name, and continues to weep.

Anna finds no purchase on her sister’s form. She hasn’t since the first day she got back from the Forest. She walked those miles by herself, alone, the spirits gone or busy with the living. When she finally returned to Arendelle --after the damn, after the flood, after… the dark, dark waters-- she saw Elsa and Kristoff and ran forward. Forgetting herself, wanting only to greet them and love them.

They walked right through her embrace, like she wasn’t even there.

Because she wasn’t.

Bruni found her two days later, on the roof above Elsa’s room. Unwilling to stay too close but unable to tear herself away from her friends, her family.

Her life.

That the spirits could see her was a small comfort. Very, very small. But at least she wasn’t alone anymore. She’d had plenty of that.

Anna recoils as Elsa shudders through an exhale, her next breath wet and clogged and shallow. Snowflakes start to fall from the sky though there are no clouds, swirling and sticking to grass and fallen leaves. Elsa’s control is slipping, and Anna can’t take it anymore.

“Gale-,” Anna’s voice breaks. “Please...”

The wind spirit knows what she is asking.

It takes a few seconds, but soon leaves and soft grass stems swirl gently around Elsa’s body, dancing in air, pressing gently against her hands to coax them free of their white knuckled grieving. “Gale?” Elsa asks breathlessly, and Anna feels the need to cry herself. Her sister’s voice is hoarse and fragile. Weak like a fractured eggshell. Flower petals wipe away the tears that soak Elsa’s cheeks. Gale tips Elsa’s head up as more objects join the bobbing air current, drawn from the forest and hills beyond.

“What are you...?” Elsa begins, but as a shape takes form she gasps, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

A simple crown weaves itself into creation before her. Sunflower petals interlace with stalks of wheat and flashes of red maple leaves, bound together with precision and care. The purple head of a crocus flower, the last of the year, or perhaps the first of the new, is the final piece added before the adornment floats toward Elsa’s head and settles atop her hair, as gentle as a mother’s hand.

Or a sister’s.

Recognition widens Elsa’s eyes and she whirls around, staggering upright on unsteady feet.

“Anna!?”

The desperation, the hope, rings out like glass on the brink of shattering. Anna feels her breath catch in her throat as her sister looks at her for the first time since the ice boat ferried her away down the side of a cliff. She reaches out like she did before, even takes a step forward.

Until she realizes Elsa’s eyes are still searching. Looking past her.

After a few moments where Elsa’s heart hammers in her chest and Anna’s tries to recall what that might be like, Elsa’s shoulders drop and it’s a folding, a shrinking, an inward sinking. She is smaller than Anna has ever seen her.

But...

Elsa takes the crocus flower from the crown, plucks a sunflower petal and a soft head of wheat, and with a careful weaving of her own she protects them in ice. Smaller, but no less special than the frozen star atop the Christmas tree years ago, and cradled with just as much care.

Elsa holds the creation to her chest and Anna feels Gale nestle around her shoulders.

Both sisters speak at the same time.

“Thank you. I love you. I miss you.”

#October Story Haul #guess that's what I'm calling it now #I want to do more of these so feel free to drop me a prompt: a word a lyric a sentence etc etc #anyway the idea kept me up the other night and I don't usually write angst so hopefully it pushes the right buttons #(and as you can see I couldn't even commit to 100% full on angst I had to make it at least a LITTLE hopeful xD) #I TRIED but... then I got too sad so y'know #anyway #jabs-wocks #I hope this fills whatever need you had xD #justlookatthosesausages #your posts are always so funny and when it's fandom-related it usually makes me think too xD #so here's to you two for no additional reason other than I really wanted to write something and you both gave me an excuse #cheers #Anna #Elsa #Kristoff #Sven #Olaf #Bruni #Nokk #Gale #tw: death #mourning #alternate F2 ending #alternate ending #Post Frozen 2 #Frozen 2 canon divergent #ghost #burying this in the tags so y'all can't spoil yourselves but so that people who have tags can still filter #my writing