#elsa's a lush

[arthistoryanimalia]

#InsectWeek fashion:

Elsa Schiaparelli (Italian, 1890–1973) for Maison Schiaparelli (French, founded 1927) Necklace & Suit, Fall 1938 collection necklace: rhodoid (cellulose acetate plastic) & metal; suit: rayon, silk, plastic Metropolitan Museum of Art 2009.300.1234, 2009.300.2374

Necklace: "From the fall 1938 pagan collection, this iconic necklace epitomizes Schiaparelli's Surrealist tendencies, perhaps more than any other design she executed because of the unreal idea of insects crawling on your skin as a fashion statement. Because of the clear Rhodoid, a type of cellulose acetate plastic, the multicolored insects seem to be resting on the wearer's skin. Rhodoid was a newly developed material and Schiaparelli was unafraid of using inventive materials for her designs. She appreciated the avant-garde quality and element of surprise infused into the design by using unconventional materials. The pagan collection was inspired by Botticelli's lush paintings; therefore flowers, woodland creatures, foliage, and insects decorated dinner suits, evening gowns and accessories. The multicolored metal insects were also seen securing a ribbon hatband on a doll hat and resting on the collar of a suit [shown here]. This necklace was worn by Millicent Rogers (who also owned the suit previously mentioned), one of Schiaparelli's best clients who was brave enough to wear her outré designs."

Suit: "Elsa Schiaparelli was influenced by the Surrealist art scene of Paris in the 1930s, and references to that movement frequently materialize in her designs. Artists were using collage, photography and paint as their medium; Schiaparelli was using clothing. Here, in a suit from her fall 1938 Pagan collection, she incorporates three elements that have become hallmarks of her career-- interesting fabric, Surrealist elements and unconventional buttons. Schiaparelli scoured fabric houses to find fabrics that perfectly translated her artistic ideas. The crepe used for this jacket and dress is highly textured, adding a rough dimension to the overall design. The Surrealist elements here, the plastic bug ornaments, are shockingly realistic and in juxtaposition to the delicate pink silk of the collar where they rest. As Dilys Blum states in Shocking! The Art and Fashion of Elsa Schiaparelli, many designs from this collection featured earthy decorations inspired by Botticelli's paintings, like flowers, fruits, animals and insects. Buttons were another form of expression for Schiaparelli. In this case, the leaf-shaped buttons represent foliate forms, another common motif seen throughout the Pagan collection. This unusual ensemble would require a certain level of fashion bravado, and the previous owner, Millicent Rogers, definitely possessed that."

[true--north]

Iduna's hair symbolism is not less powerful than Elsa's. From a free lush curls with just a tiny plait to a smooth straight hair in an elegant hairdo.

Elsa's reverse way.

[hookedonapirate]

I’LL WAIT A LIFETIME OR TWO

Summary:

At forty, Emma Swan is living her best life. She's happily single and owns a thriving art gallery with her best friend Elsa. And of course, there's the love of her life, her teenage son, Henry.

Since the divorce three years ago, her carefully curated life has been quiet, peaceful, ordinary. She couldn’t ask for anything more. So why does the one guy she ends up falling for have to be the rockstar her son has a poster of on his bedroom wall, whose life is nothing short of extraordinary?

The Idea of You AU

Rated: M

AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

CHAPTER SIX

Colors bleed into one another like a masterfully painted canvas—streaks of pink and orange fading to purple as the sun dips into the horizon. Killian and I are poring over the menus in a cozy booth tucked away in a recessed alcove on the terrace, the ocean waves crashing into the shore. Twinkling lights are strung through the trees, illuminating the lush gardens. Flames flicker in the fire pits dotting the landscape, and soft music drifts through the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere.

His eyes rove over my red dress before his gaze catches mine, and he flashes me one of those heart-stopping grins that has my stomach doing a somersault. “Swan, have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?”

I manage a laugh, the familiar warmth creeping into my cheeks. “About four times already.” Twice during the car ride, once after he handed the keys to the valet and once again when we were shown to our seats. Though, neither time failed to make my cheeks heat.

“Is this place okay?”

I set down the menu and sit back, resting my hands in my lap as my eyes sweep over the alcove, taking in the fairy tale setting—a perfect blend of elegance and intimacy, with dark wood accents, plush seating and candlelit tables, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, sea salt and delicious food. “It’s perfect.” My eyes come back to his, lips twitching into a smirk. “But honestly, you could’ve taken me to Mcdonalds and I’d be happy as a clam.”

He chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that sends goosebumps over my skin.

He thinks I’m joking.

“I almost opted for Nobu, but I wasn’t sure if you liked sushi,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? I love sushi.”

His smile is a thing of beauty, lighting up his features in a way that rivals the setting sun. He extends his hand under the table, seeking mine, and when our fingers intertwine, electricity zips through me. His touch is warm, firm yet tender. “Good to know for next time.”

Next time?

There goes my stomach again, doing another somersault.

I love the idea of next time.

“I should’ve known you loved sushi. Henry gets his good taste from his beautiful mum.”

A blushing smile crosses my lips, and I squeeze his hand, my heart pounding as I fight off the urge to pull him closer and kiss him. Even though we’re cocooned in a pocket of privacy within the restaurant’s lush gardens, we’re not entirely invisible. A few of Killian’s acquaintances have already made their way over, each receiving a nod or a handshake from him.

When he introduced me as his art consultant, I played along, grateful for the anonymity the title afforded me. I have no desire to become tabloid fodder, especially not when my heart is tangled in a situation it shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to be on a date with a furniture shop owner, not dining with a rockstar.

As we chat, I’m acutely aware of Killian’s hand in mine, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his grip, and I’m imagining what it would be like to be alone with him—truly alone. The possibilities send a rush of heat through my veins. 

When his thumb traces gentle circles on my skin, tiny shivers shoot up my arm. The contact is tender, intimate, and I can’t help the way my breath catches just a little. Then he frees my hand briefly, making me miss his warmth, but it’s only long enough for the server to approach, jot down our orders and retrieve the menus from us.

“So, where is Henry tonight?” The softness in Killian’s voice matches the touch of his hand as he slips his palm into mine, threading our fingers together once more.

“He’s staying over at Roland’s house.” I take a sip of my pinot noir, savoring the rich bouquet of ripe cherries, a hint of spice and subtle earthy undertones. But the alcohol does nothing to soothe the fluttering in my chest.

He arches an eyebrow. “Is that the lad who was at Coachella with you?”

I nod, smiling. “Yeah, they’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

He leans back, a half-smirk playing on his lips as he watches me with an intensity that feels like it could pierce right through our casual facade. “That’s nice.” His eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them. “Did you tell Henry I was at your house for lunch the other day?”

I can’t help but laugh at the thought, picturing Henry’s reaction. His jaw would be on the floor, his expressive green eyes would grow impossibly wide and he’d launch into a barrage of questions, each one more incredulous than the last. “No way. He would lose his mind if he knew you were there. He’d probably also be furious with me for not including him.”

His thumb strokes the back of my hand beneath the table, a clandestine gesture that sends ripples of warmth through me. “Will you tell him you ditched your date to have dinner with me?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, probably not.” My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass, the truth settling heavy on my tongue. “I wouldn’t even know what to tell him at this point.” How could I possibly explain to my son that the man whose name alone would send him into a frenzy is the same man who turns my insides into liquid?

“Fair enough.” Killian squeezes my hand gently. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand answers or declarations, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for this moment of reprieve, where I can simply exist beside him without the weight of explanations hanging over us. “You don’t have to tell him anything right now. We’re just having dinner, right?” There’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice that makes his British accent even more pronounced, a wink accompanying his words.

I smile wryly, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Right. Just dinner.”

But we both know this isn’t just dinner. Just like lunch wasn’t just lunch.

“What about Elsa?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

I can picture her now, her raised eyebrow, the knowing look she’d give me if she were here, witnessing Killian’s thumb caress mine. She would see right through our charade of “just dinner” without missing a beat.

As I’m about to respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of warm bread and a dish of herb-infused olive oil. Killian thanks him and offers the basket to me before taking a piece.

I break mine in half, dipping it into the olive oil.

We take a bite, and I savor the warm, fluffy texture as I continue our conversation. “I told her we went out to lunch but that it was only business. I think she’s on to me.” I’ll have to figure out how to tell her and Henry about Killian later. For now, I let myself be swept away by the moment, the uncertainties of tomorrow fading into the background.

“So, when do I get to meet her?”

My heart flutters, betraying my calm exterior. The idea of him meeting Elsa, facing her scrutiny, her silver-blonde hair likely to bristle like an indignant cat’s fur, is both terrifying and exhilarating. “She won’t be happy when she finds out I ditched Walsh for you. She’ll probably interrogate you to find out what your intentions are. Henry will too, just so you know.”

Killian’s chuckle rumbles through the alcove, warm and rich. “Can’t wait.”

I arch a brow. “You’re really up for that? Elsa can be pretty fierce, and Henry—well, he’s very protective.”

“I can handle it.” He flashes a smile, one that says he’s faced tougher critics than my protective entourage. “Besides, I have nothing to hide. Just ask Google.” The twinkle in his eye tells me he relishes the challenge—a man used to the spotlight, unfazed by scrutiny. Yet beneath the bravado, there’s a sincerity that makes me believe he’s not just playing the part. Killian Jones might be an open book to the world, but he’s still full of stories yet to be told. And I find myself wanting to read every page.

I smirk, my finger tracing the rim of my wine glass. “I could…but what I want to know are the secrets I can’t find on Google.”

A smile, disarming and far too charming, stretches across his lips as he leans back in his seat and rubs his chin, thinking for a moment. “Alright, here’s one—my moniker as a kid was Hook.”

Laughter bubbles up from my chest as I picture a young Killian, a boy full of spirit and spunk, bearing that nickname. “Hook, huh? Like Captain Hook? How did you get that nickname?”

His eyes, those deep pools of blue, hold mine, and in them, there’s a flicker of the boy he once was. “From a fishing trip with my brother Liam. We were out on the lake, and I was determined to show off my fishing skills. When I finally caught a big one, I thought I’d impress him by handling it myself. But as I was trying to remove the hook, the fish gave a sudden flip of its tail, and the hook ended up in the back of my hand. Liam couldn’t stop laughing, and from that day on, I was ‘Hook’.”

“Oh my God, that sounds painful.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment, but it certainly left a mark.” He holds up his free hand, showing the small scar on the back of it. “And a nickname.”

I lean in, my fingers gently tracing the rugged scar. My brows knit together involuntarily as I look up at him with a teasing smile. “That’s your big, juicy secret?”

“Well, maybe not juicy by tabloid standards, but it’s a part of me you wouldn’t find in any magazine. Liam and I made a deal long ago to not share embarrassing stories with the world. Some things we like to have for ourselves.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You know, I was expecting something more...I don’t know, scandalous?”

A playful twinkle lights his eyes as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If you want scandalous, I could tell you about the time my ex-girlfriend, Milah, a French actress, dumped me for Robert Gold.”

My eyes widen, my wineglass poised in the air before it can make it to my lips. “Wait, Robert Gold? As in the American singer and pianist?”

He nods regrettably, a shadow of some past hurt crossing his face. “Milah and I met before I became famous. She was friends with Mary Margaret, who had just started dating David at the time, and came to one of our gigs. We bonded over our love for music—she studied piano and classical music before going into acting.”

I nod, finally taking a sip of my wine.

“We kept our relationship a secret for a while.”

“But then she left you for Robert?”

“Aye.” His eyes meet mine, a storm brewing in their depths—a tempest that speaks of betrayal and heartache weathered and survived, like that of my own. “Apparently, I wasn’t mature or famous enough for her.” He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s an edge to it that speaks volumes. “It stung, but then Midnight Moon started gaining popularity, we signed with a big record label and ended up outselling Robert in albums.” A sly grin returns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not that I was keeping track or anything.”

“Of course.” I smirk, understanding all too well the bittersweet triumph of proving oneself against the doubts of an ex.

Killian shrugs. “And it wasn’t until I became famous that Milah started reaching out to me again. But I haven’t responded to any of her calls or texts. Nor do I plan to.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Ah, becoming famous—the perfect revenge on your exes.”

He chuckles. “It really is.”

Then I think about something for a moment, recalling the last time I saw a picture of Robert Gold on social media. “But isn’t Gold like sixty?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I wince, hoping I haven’t prodded a tender wound too harshly. “Not that I’m one to judge someone’s age,” I add quickly.

“Aye, he is. But Milah…she’s a bit older than me. Thirty, to be exact. At the time we were dating, I was eighteen and she was twenty-four.”

I laugh, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “So, you have a type?”

“A type?” He shakes his head. “Not really. I actually liked Milah.” His expression softens as he leans in even closer, the distance between us diminishing further, and I’m caught in the gravitational pull. “But now I find myself drawn to blondes with eyes the color of emeralds.” He meets my gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “Okay, that’s a lie, there’s only one blonde—one woman—I’m interested in.”

My heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it falters, flutters, then thunders back to life with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. A wave of warmth cascades through me, pooling in my stomach and spreading to the tips of my fingers intertwined with his. His thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand.

“I hope I didn’t offend you that day at Coachella by mistaking you for Henry’s older sister.” He chuckles at himself. “I genuinely thought you were.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “No, not at all. I took it as a compliment.”

“Good. But don’t worry, I won’t ask how old you are because it’s impolite and also because it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, I just turned forty last month,” I admit, my cheeks heating. “Ready to run yet?” I ask, afraid he might think of me as a middle-aged woman clinging to the fringes of her youth.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not.” He graces me with a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me.”

My eyes lock with his, and I find myself ensnared in his cerulean depths that seem to hold galaxies of unspoken words. The air between us crackles, each second stretched taut with anticipation. I can’t help but wonder where the night will take us, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I just want to enjoy our time together, no matter how it ends.

Our server returns with sautéed lump crab cakes and a watermelon salad with feta and mint. After he leaves, we eat our food, falling back into easy conversation.

“My favorite place as a kid was this old lighthouse near our home,” Killian replies when I ask him about his childhood. “There was something about it—standing tall and resilient against the chaos of the sea. It always made me feel safe when I was inside it, like it could weather any storm. And now, I feel like that lighthouse sometimes. Trying to survive all the crowds and chaos. Trying to survive the storm.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing against my heart and leaving me speechless. His metaphor is profound, striking a chord deep within me. “That’s so beautiful,” I breathe, my voice almost a whisper. “I mean, it’s beautifully put. And I can definitely see how you would feel like a lighthouse braving the storm in your line of work. I could never do what you do. And you make it look so easy.”

He blushes, his lips quirking up into a smile. “Thank you, love.” He squeezes my hand, the tips of his ears just as red as his cheeks. “The lighthouse actually inspired a song I’m writing.”

My curiosity is piqued. “I’d love to hear it.”

“It’s still a work in progress. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll share it with the band. It’s something I wrote for myself.”

I nod. “I get that. Some things are just too personal to share. But if you ever feel like letting someone else hear it, I’d be honored.”

His eyes soften. “That means a lot. Maybe one day, I’ll play it for you.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” I find myself even more drawn to him, wanting to pick the creative part of his brain, the artistic side of him. “So, is that where you did most of your writing? When you were at the lighthouse?” 

He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Actually, no. I do my best writing when I have the telly on in the background and an electric guitar in my hands. If someone saw me, they would think I was watching the telly while playing the guitar, but what I’m actually doing is coming up with song lyrics. Something about the noise helps me focus.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s so funny. That’s exactly how Henry does his homework. He always has the TV on, his laptop in front of him and his music blaring—your music blaring. But me? I can’t think if there’s a fan humming in the background. I need complete silence to concentrate.”

He nods, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “What about you, Emma? What was your childhood like?”

I take a deep breath, smiling softly as memories flood back. “Well, I grew up in a small town. My childhood was pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always supportive, but they were also pretty strict.” Their expectations were like the masterpieces they so loved—to be protected and preserved. “My father’s an art history professor at Harvard. My mother was a curator. She’s retired now.”

“Art is the family business, then?” he asks, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Sort of, yes.” My answer comes out softer than intended, a hint of nostalgia threading through the words. “Their worlds revolved around art, and I got swept up in it long before I knew how to walk.”

“Did you attend Harvard?”

“I went to Brown. Then Columbia for my master’s.”

“Brown and Columbia,” he muses, lips curling into a smile. “That’s quite impressive, Swan.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words almost lost to the soft music.

“Did that piss off the professor?” His eyebrow arches in playful curiosity, his voice low and smooth. “Not going to Harvard?”

“A little.” A smile finds its way to my lips at the memory of my father’s stunned silence when I told him about Brown. It had been my first step out of his shadow, my own declaration of independence.

Killian’s eyes lock with mine, gleaming with mirth and something more—understanding, perhaps. He gets it, the need to forge one’s path, even if it means disappointing those we love. He knows what it’s like to choose the unexpected road, to chase a dream no one else can see but you. “Probably not as much as blowing off Cambridge to join a rock band.”

I laugh. “No, probably not.”

Once our glasses are empty, he refills them from the bottle chilling in ice. “Did you have a favorite place as a kid? Somewhere you could hide from your parents?”

I nod. “I loved spending time outdoors, exploring the woods and fields near our house. And there was this old oak tree I used to climb up and sit on one of the sturdy branches, sketching the landscape. I was always drawing—anything and everything. ”

His eyes light up. “You draw?”

I nod, my cheeks warming. “I do.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Swan. Can I see some of your work?”

“Maybe someday. I haven’t drawn much lately, though. Running the gallery keeps me pretty busy.”

He eyes me thoughtfully. “You should make time for it. It’s important to keep doing what you love.”

His words hit me with an unexpected force, and I smile. “I’ll have more time this summer. Henry’s going to camp next month at Jameson Ranch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he goes there every year. He loves everything there, the horseback riding, the rock climbing, the archery. I waited for the year when he’d say he’s too old, but it never happened. Now, this is his last year.”

“Sounds like an amazing camp.”

I nod. “It really is. I’m glad he gets to enjoy it one last time before he graduates next year.”

“Does he have any plans after graduation?”

I chuckle, lightly teasing, “Hopefully, they don’t include ditching college to start a rock band.” I raise an eyebrow playfully at Killian, who feigns offense, his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I’m kidding. Honestly, I’d be proud of him no matter what he does after high school.”

He smiles, taking a sip of his wine.

“But to answer your question, he’s been talking about going to LA Film School.”

Killian raises his brows, his eyes lighting up like the stars that have begun to pepper the evening sky. “Film school? Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah. He’s always had a knack for storytelling.”

“I bet he’ll do amazing. And how do you feel about him moving away for school?”

“I’ll hate it,” I admit with a laugh. “But I want him to pursue his dreams. Besides, he won’t be too far.”

“He can always come back during breaks and summers,” Killian reassures me with a nod.

“Yeah, it’ll be an adjustment, but I’m sure he’ll be ready to get out on his own and not have to live with his mom anymore.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll miss you like crazy when he’s gone.”

The waiter arrives with our entrées—herb-crusted salmon for Killian and a ribeye steak for me.

As we take our first bites, the flavors burst on my tongue—rich and perfectly seasoned, a hum of contentment escaping my lips.

Killian watches me with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Delicious.”

We eat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances between bites.

“So, Henry and film school,” Killian says, returning to our earlier conversation. “Do you think he knows what kind of films he wants to make?”

I take a sip of my wine, loving the fact he’s asking about Henry and not just me. And even though I easily got bored listening to Walsh go on about his furniture shop, I’d be happy if Killian only spoke about himself. I could listen to him talk all day. “He’s still figuring that out, but he loves sci-fi and fantasy.”

Killian nods and smiles. “Ah, my favorite genres.” He takes another bite of his fish. “Oh, and by the way, I Googled that Ghost scene you were telling me about.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“I just have one question.” He holds up a finger, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Do potters always stroke the mold like that when throwing?”

I almost choke on my wine and laugh. “Uh, no. I think they were going for a steamy scene without going all pornographic.”

He chuckles, his cheeks red. “I figured as much.”

Finally, we’re served crème brûlée for dessert. The top is perfectly caramelized, with a thin, crisp layer of sugar that cracks under the spoon to reveal the creamy custard underneath.

I take my first bite and let out a small moan. The combination of the crunchy caramel top and the smooth vanilla custard is heavenly. I feed him a bite, and the way his eyes roll back, the rough groan he makes, sends heat to my core. I have to squeeze my thighs together to curb the temptation to have him for my dessert. At least for now, while we’re in public.

When the bill is paid, there’s a knot of dread in my stomach at the thought our evening might be drawing to a close soon.

Killian moves closer to me, his voice low and husky. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” My stomach flutters with nerves at the prospect of what his question might be.

“Please, feel free to say no if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure here.” Hesitation flickers in his mesmerizing blue eyes, so I place my hand on his leg, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I promise I’ll say no if I’m not up for it.”

“Would you want to come back to my hotel room? It’s just a little more private there…”

I pause, the final bite of the crème brûlée halfway to my lips as I turn my head to look at him, sincerity in his gaze. The air between us thickens, rich with unspoken possibilities, and something stirs inside me, a longing I’ve kept at bay, one that’s been restrained by caution and past pain. But Killian has a way of crumbling the walls I’ve built around myself.

I finish the bite of dessert, the spoon clinking against the porcelain as I set it down. I lean back, folding my arms. “Trying to get me alone, Jones?”

A rosy pink blush paints his cheeks. “Maybe I am.”

I can’t help but laugh as he gives me the same answer I gave him the other day when he asked me if I was flirting with him.

“And what are your intentions once you get me alone?”

He chuckles and wets his lips with his tongue, leaning closer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his voice dark, almost a whisper. “Well, I watched you eat that dessert…the way you licked your lips and made those sexy noises…the way you kissed me the other day…”—His gaze moves to my mouth, his eyes ablaze with desire, his thumb caressing my shoulder—“and I really want that wicked mouth of yours on mine again. But honestly, I’d be happy to simply continue chatting.” The easy grin fades, replaced by something far more telling—a seriousness that belies his usual charm. “So, my intentions are whatever you wish them to be, love.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Really?” I challenge, my teeth catching on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the smirk that threatens to break free. “Whatever I wish?” My efforts are futile, it curls the edges of my lips regardless. “Alright then, how about you perform a song and dance number on this table?”

He arches a brow. “That’s your wish?”

“That’s my wish.”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, his cerulean eyes dancing with amusement. He launches from his seat, and before I know it, he’s halfway on the table. I reach out and grab his arm to stop him, giggles bubbling up from my throat at the thought of him actually going through with it. “I was kidding.” As he settles back into his seat, I narrow my eyes at him. “I can’t believe you were actually going to do it.”

His head tilts back slightly, and those piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Swan, you do realize you’re asking a rock star who’s used to outrageous requests and performing in public, right? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to shock me.”

“Is that so?” I tease with a devilish smirk, placing my hand on his chest, feeling it beat under my palm.

He chuckles. “That is the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks heat.

“What am I going to do with you, Swan?”

“Apparently, whatever I want you to do.” It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to be swept up like this—since I’ve let someone see the side of me that isn’t all business and pragmatism. Despite how flushed I am from all this flirtatious banter, I manage to make it out of the booth. I look over my shoulder. “You coming, Jones?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grabs his jacket and follows behind me.

When he catches up to me, I have to refrain from touching him until we get into his car. I can tell he’s just as tortured by the way he’s running a hand through his hair and looking over at me, a hunger sparking in those deep blue eyes.

Once we’re outside, the cool breeze sweeps around us, and I try to rub the goosebumps from my arms.

"Here, love.” Without missing a beat, Killian shrugs off his jacket and holds it open behind me, allowing me to slip my arms into the sleeves. He adjusts it on my shoulders and rubs my covered arms. The leather is warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne, a comforting mix of spices and something uniquely him. "Can't have you freezing out here."

I pull the jacket closer around me, grateful for the warmth and the gesture. "Thanks, Killian." I smile at him. The jacket is a little big on me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but it's perfect. "Won't you be cold, though?"

He shakes his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about me, Swan.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me a little closer. “If I get cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?”

I roll my eyes and laugh, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Ever the charmer," I reply, leaning into him as we wait for the valet to retrieve Killian’s car.

As soon as we’re in, his hand quickly finds its way under the skirt of my dress and around my thigh, and my hand finds its way onto his shoulder. But there’s too much distance between us.

He brings me back to my car at Blair’s, and I follow him on the twenty-minute drive to Sunset Tower, which stands tall against the cityscape. We agreed it’s better to arrive separately in case paparazzi are lurking around. I wait a few moments in my Bug after he disappears inside, my heart pounding. I check my hair in the mirror and make sure there's no food in my teeth about four times while I gather the courage. I want this, I know I want this, I’m just hoping he won’t take one look at me without my clothes on and run away. Or worse, give me a pity fuck.

I shake away the doubts clouding my mind. Killian is not like that, and I know this. Unlatching the car door, I step out and head inside the hotel. I may not know him very well, but each time we talk, it’s so easy, so comfortable. We don’t have to force the conversation, it just flows naturally. We’re not two people with sixteen years between us, we’re just two people drawn to each other. And the more I get to know him, the more I see the kindness in his heart. The man behind the rockstar persona.

Once inside, I step into the elevator and press the button for his floor. As I ascend to the top, my heart flutters with excitement and nerves. I check my reflection on the reverse camera setting on my phone and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. When the doors part, I step out and make my way down the corridor.

Tiny, Killian’s loyal bodyguard, stands watch at the end of the hallway, his hawk-like eyes scanning me briefly before he nods in recognition. Whether he knows what might transpire beyond the door to Killian’s hotel suite, he gives no indication.

Returning his nod, I continue down the hall—my heart pounding like a drum against my chest with every step closer to the suite number Killian had shared earlier. Taking a fortifying breath, I rap lightly on the polished wooden door.

Before I have time to talk myself out of this, it swings open and he’s standing before me, flashing one of his heart-melting grins.

“Hi, Swan.” He steps aside to let me in.

“Hi.” I manage a smile of my own, a thrill shooting up my spine as I enter his room, my stilettos clicking on the shiny hardwood floor.

He closes the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world.

Finally, we’re alone again.

I’ve been waiting for this moment since he left my house. I couldn’t actually believe our kiss was a one-time thing as I was saying it out loud. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ignore my feelings for this man.

“Would you like something to drink, love?”

I shake my head and slip off his jacket, throwing it over a chair, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe.

All I want is him.

My heart races as we gravitate toward each other, closing the distance between us.

On the way here, I had questioned whether we would just chat or make out once we got here, or whether I’d even make it here at all, but now that he’s standing here in front of me, looking like he wants to devour me, I’m powerless to resist him—and truthfully, I don’t want to.

Our eyes are locked, the air crackling with a raw, electric charge that’s been building all night. I reach up, my hands finding the nape of his neck, pulling him down toward me. Our lips meet, a soft brush at first that quickly ignites into something more urgent, more demanding. The kiss deepens, and I taste the hint of the wine and crème brûlée we shared. I cup his cheeks in my hands, our mouths moving together with a familiarity that belies the short time we’ve known each other.

He wraps his arms around me as I snake mine around the back of his neck. My breath catches in my throat as his palms glide over the fabric of my dress, mapping the contours of my body as if committing it to memory. I’m already moaning softly into his mouth, lost in the sensations of him, the warmth of his body pressing against mine, the stubble on his jaw scratching softly at my skin, and the way his hands roam across my back, tracing the curve of my spine.

We break the kiss briefly, both of us sucking the same air into our lungs before reclaiming each other’s lips. I lean into him, deepening the kiss—his tongue hot and soft on mine, eager but not too much. It’s a dance we’re engaged in, and every move he makes only draws me in deeper.

He turns me around with a gentle insistence, and I gulp in air, my heart pounding against my ribcage, erratic and wild. His hands slip under the hem of my dress, his fingers brushing against my thighs, teasing, promising, until they find the silk barrier of my panties.

A gasp escapes me, unbidden, as he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his touch bold and unapologetic against my bare nub. I reach a hand behind him, cradling the back of his head as he kisses my earlobe, his breaths hot and heavy against my skin. Holding on to him is all I can do to not melt completely under the deft movements of his fingers, each stroke unraveling me even more. I feel like a teenager all over again.

“Swan…” His voice is low and seductive in my ear, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hotel room. “Gods, you’re soaked.”

I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes as I arch into him, seeking more of the exquisite touch, my body betraying its eagerness for his skilled caresses. “Killian.” His name is a whispered plea, a prayer, on my lips as his fingers explore with an artist’s finesse.

It’s surreal, being here with him in his hotel room. Out there, in the real world, I’m Emma Swan—pragmatic, collected, an art dealer, a mother. But here, under Killian’s masterful touch, I’m coming undone, my usual poise giving way to raw desire. He’s young, magnetic, a rockstar used to captivating crowds, yet here, it’s just us, and he plays me like the strums of his guitar—each note building to a crescendo only he can command. The world falls away, leaving only the here and now, the heat of his touch, the pounding of my heart and the insatiable hunger that builds with every passing second.

He dips his head, his breath hot against the nape of my neck as he unclasps the strap of my dress with his free hand, letting the top fall away. He reaches under my bra cup, his hand shaping my breast, his thumb toying with my nipple as he kisses my neck. I tremble, caught in a web of sensations spun by his deft movements. My moans fill the room, unrestrained and foreign, like the sounds belong to another woman entirely—one unshackled by past fears or reservations. It’s been so long since I’ve moaned like this. In fact, I don’t think I ever moaned like this with Neal, yet Killian’s able to coax the sounds out with only his fingers.

Both of my hands are reaching behind us, fisting his hair for purchase as I completely give in to this man. He finds a rhythm, a dance of fingertips against the most sensitive parts of me, driving me wild, pushing me toward a precipice I’m all too willing to tumble over. The edge looms closer with each stroke, and I cling to him, lost in the storm he’s conjured inside me.

“Killian!” I scream toward the heavens as I ride his fingers, my walls pulsing around them. And I’m there, crumbling to pieces, coming all over his hand, and I’m gasping for air, my fingers tightening in his hair, clinging to him as he holds me sturdy in his arms.

Holy fuck.

That was…

My brain is too much like mushy oatmeal to put together the words to describe it.

Killian just holds me for a moment as I catch my breath, waiting for my heart to slow.

Once I’m able to move again, I manage to turn around and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, wanting to kiss the smug grin off his face. His arms encircle me, and he lifts me with an ease that sends another jolt of desire through my veins. The world tilts and spins around me, but I’m anchored by his gaze, his eyes holding mine. As he carries me across the room, our lips crash together again, a messy, perfect collision, his heartbeat thundering against mine, a mirror of my own escalating pulse.

My head hits the pillow as he sets me down gently, our bodies and lips still fused. I work at the buttons of his shirt, craving the warmth of his skin against mine. The fabric parts beneath my touch, revealing the taut muscles that ripple on his torso. His hands are on me now, skimming over my sides, each brush of his fingertips like a match struck against my skin, igniting a fire within me I had long forgotten could burn so fiercely. He reaches for my dress, and my breath catches in my throat as the red fabric and black bra falls away, leaving me vulnerable under his heated gaze. With trembling hands, I help him shed the rest of his clothes, each piece discarded like layers of ourselves peeling away.

I lie back on my elbows, allowing him to slide off my panties—the last piece of fabric separating us. There’s a pang of self-awareness as I think about how much my body has changed since I got pregnant with Henry. Stretch marks map across my lower belly like silver rivers, my breasts are fuller now, no longer pert like they once were.

But when I catch Killian’s eyes, darken with desire, and his cock standing at full attention, hard and throbbing, any lingering uncertainty evaporates. His hungry gaze roams over every inch of me—the stretch marks, the fullness of my breasts, every scar and imperfection—as if they’re elements in an exquisite artwork he can’t wait to explore further. He wants me. All of me—the woman who carried a child within her womb—every curve, every scar, every part of me life has shaped.

My nipples are hard peeks under his gaze, begging for the warmth of his touch. His mouth. His tongue.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifts my foot and unbuckles the straps of my shoes one by one, his ocean blues not even focused on his task but roving up my naked curves instead, my center spread and bare to him, glistening with a hunger I haven’t felt in years.

Once my shoes are gone, he climbs onto the bed and settles between my thighs with a devilish glint, hiking my legs over his shoulders. He leans in, leaving soft kisses over my thighs and nub leaving me shivering in anticipation, my breath catching. He traces my slick folds with his lips, his breaths warm over my flushed skin, my heart like a jackhammer. Our eyes are locked in a steely gaze, but once he parts my thighs further apart, his grip bruising my skin in the most delicious way, and he slides his tongue through my slit, all bets are off. My elbows collapse underneath me, and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head, his tongue exploring with slow deliberate strokes, eliciting gasps and moans that echo through the quiet room.

For some reason, I’d thought he might be overeager, given his age, and not used to giving pleasure as much as receiving it, and maybe that was just my previous experiences. But, boy, was I wrong. Because, there’s reverence in each stroke and nibble, his mouth worshiping me, coaxing me closer to the brink with each flick of his tongue over my aching clit, delving into my depths as if he could find every secret I’ve ever kept hidden there.

“Killian!” I can’t help but cry out, the words ripped from my throat as electrifying heat consumes me. A shuddering “Yesss!” escapes, my thighs clamping around his head like a vice, involuntary while my hands become entangled in the dark tresses of his hair.

Even as waves of ecstasy begin to ebb, he continues his ministrations, languid licks that draw out the lingering tremors of my orgasm. His tongue moves with an unhurried grace, a contrast to the rapid beating of my heart.

Heat lingers on my skin, a delicious aftershock that trembles through me.

His lips start a blazing hot path from the apex of my thighs to my stomach, his mouth a brand, searing his claim on me. Every kiss imprinted on my skin burns brighter than the last, leaving no part of me untouched or undiscovered. His lips trace delicate patterns across my abdomen, pausing to dip into my navel before continuing their ascent.

The curve of each rib becomes a stepping stone as he climbs closer to my breasts, where he lingers, lavishing each contour and peak with his tongue. His kisses are equally soft and demanding around the areolas before he draws my nipples into his hot mouth, pleasure jolting through me.

By the time he reaches my lips, I’m a panting, trembling mess underneath him, our bare skin meeting, the contact sparking a fire that threatens to consume us both.

“God, everything about you is perfect,” he breathes, his voice completely wrecked. His words are exactly what a forty-year-old woman wants to hear about her naked body, but I know it’s not empty flattery. It’s the truth etched in the lines of his face, in the fire in his eyes, the way he holds my gaze when he says it. 

His erection presses against my thigh, hard and insistent, ready to claim me.

And God, do I want him to claim me. Every inch.

“Should I wear a condom?” 

Right. A condom—something I hadn’t even thought about. God, it’s been too long, I feel like a virgin all over again. 

“Do you have anything I should be aware of?” I counter, my voice surprisingly steady.

He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, and you? Have you been with anyone since Neal?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m on the pill.” I glide my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his stiff shaft, stroking softly, his smooth, velvety length easily sliding through my fist. “And I want to feel you inside me.”

He groans as he kisses me sweetly on the lips, a grin spreading across his face. “I want to feel you, too.”

With that settled, I place him at my entrance, and the connection sends sparks flying through me. After thirteen years of Neal and three years of nothing, Killian feels incredible inside me. No, incredible is a colossal understatement. And he’s not even fully inside me yet.

Our breaths, heavy and ragged, mingle as he eases into me, claiming territory with slow, tender strokes that belie his strength. My legs are wrapped around his back, my hands resting on his shoulder blades as I arch into him, every nerve-ending alight with fire.

He responds in kind, his hips a perfect counterpoint to mine, as if we’re two parts of a whole finally clicking into place. “Swan,” he whispers against my lips, and I shiver at the sound of my name wrapped in his accent, heavy with lust. “Bloody hell…you feel so damn good.” He captures my lips before I can respond, his tongue moving against mine with the rhythm of his hips, and I can taste myself on his tongue, which I’ve never had the pleasure of doing before. Neal always used mouthwash afterward before kissing me.

I lose myself in the sensations—the heat of his body, the weight of him, the taste of his kiss, the sound of our unified gasps filling the room. His size, the smoothness of his back, the firmness of his ass as I take both perfect globes in my hands, pulling him in deeper. It’s a heady combination, intoxicating, dizzying, and I drink it all in greedily.

“Killian...” His name spills from my lips as he draws me closer to the edge. There’s no holding back, no fear or doubt, only the boundless expanse of sensation he alone can evoke. My body gives in to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatens to sweep me under, my fingernails clawing into his back.

Heat coils inside me, raw and all-consuming as Killian’s body drives into mine with a primal rhythm, his voice, rough like gravel, cutting through the haze of pleasure. “Let go, Emma.”

And I do. I let go, surrendering to the waves as they crash over me, and I happily drown in the bliss of it, my walls fluttering around his beautiful dick that has me coming undone.

He follows close behind, thrusting harder and faster, the crescendo building as he chases his impending release. His hips falter, movements growing erratic, his body shuddering. He dips his head, teeth grazing my skin, breath hot against my neck. His grip tightens around me, hands like steel bands, and I’m certain there will be marks—temporary souvenirs—imprinted on my skin I’ll probably admire in the mirror later.

“Emma…” My name is pure heaven as it tumbles from his lips, wrapped in a thick, broken accent as he pours his warmth inside me.

Pure heaven.

We reposition ourselves so he’s on his back and I’m beside him, boneless, draping an arm around his torso. My breath steadies, our bodies a tangle of limbs, the echo of his touch, his kiss, on every inch of my skin, his chest a relentless drumbeat against my ear. The sheets are twisted around our legs, our fingers are laced together as he presses a tender kiss against my forehead.

“Emma…you’re incredible.” His words vibrate against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back.

I look up at him, my gaze meeting those deep blue eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Your beauty,” he whispers huskily, “it’s not just in the way you look, Swan. It’s everything about you. It’s the very essence of you.” His touch is reverent, as though each word he utters is etched into my skin.

A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, at the admiration that laces each syllable. It’s as if every wall I’ve ever built has not only been scaled but completely dismantled by the tenderness of his gaze. He sees me, truly sees me—not just the polished exterior, but the tangled, knotted threads of my soul.

A teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Do you say that to all the women you’re with?”

He chuckles, his body shaking with the deep, hearty sound. “I would only say it if I meant it…so no, I don’t.”

I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, taking in the jagged edge of his stubble, the warmth of his skin. His eyes lock with mine, a stormy blue that speaks volumes without a single word. My heart swells, full to bursting with an emotion I can neither name nor contain.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Or forever.”

I laugh. “I’ll stay tonight…but I’ll have to go back early tomorrow. Henry will be back home around noon.”

He nods, despite the disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Of course, love.”

Lying here naked, pressed against him, I allow myself to bask in the afterglow, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a state of serene bliss.

I don’t remember sex being so damn good before.

It’s never been that good.

Then it hits me. He’s the first, the only one who’s ever made me orgasm from sex alone. Sure, I’ve had orgasms but only from stimulation—a tongue, a finger or (mostly) a battery-operated friend. Never from penetration. I didn’t even think it was possible for me. And I’ve certainly never experienced multiple orgasms before tonight.

I always assumed I was the problem. That I was broken somehow.

But here I am, lying in Killian’s arms, fulfilled and sated in a way I never thought possible. It’s like he’s unlocked some secret part of me no one else could access before.

And maybe my history of being unsatisfied in bed is the reason I waited so long to be with someone else after Neal left.

Then again, if I had known it could be this good, I wouldn’t have waited.

But maybe it was Killian I was waiting for all along.

[sexylazymess]

Dark!Elsa x fem Reader

Chapter 2

The wind blew relentlessly, making you clutch the cloak around your body even tighter in fear of it flying off and leaving you with nothing to protect yourself from the ongoing blizzard. The white coat of snow has already reached your knees, and in few hours, people might start getting burried alive. This is what became of Arendelle. A once thriving kingdom, with blossoming flowers and lush trees an entire year became an ugly land of mud and bare trees. Quite litrally a graveyard for the living. Once you were finally home, you pushed the door open to be met with welcoming warmth. 

"Auntie is here!" A (your hair colour) haired little girl shouted joyfully, earning her twin brother's attention who came running to hug you "Autie, you're back!" you smiled in return and ruffled his fluffy hair "Of course Jude, I told you I'd be back soon." It was like this everytime you left the house. The kids would wait for your return instead of going to bed and jump in delight as soon as you were home. It was heartwrenching, how at such young age they were aware of the callous weather behind many deaths, including their mother's. "and look what I got here with me." you pulled out two apples from the groceries bag for the twins, receiving simultaneous 'Apples!' and 'Thank you!'s.

"I love apples." came Flora's soft, tiny voice. 

"I'm glad you do, Flora" you went to put away the rest of the groceries. Luckily, you could get your hands on some fresh fruits and meat, otherwise the market in Arandelle was in a miserable state, the food production nearly non-existent. But how could one raise animals and plants in such climate. It was a risk not worth taking for farmers. You almost wanted to tear up when the shopkeeper told you that they don't have the medical herbs you requested since you ran out of them, so you bought meagre ones instead. "Grandpa was coughing a lot. like 13 times." your niece stood by your side, while you lit up a fire under a pot of water to brew a herbal drink "is that so?"

"Yes, I got worried. it means he's not getting better" your eyes met her own big ones, while Jude was highly optimistic, Flora was a realist. She doesn't accept something unless she sees it, but she looks up to you. She takes your words to heart. "Coughing means his body is fighting." you gave her a tiny, reassuring smile "and that's a good thing. every medication I give him will help him be stronger, but do you know what's the most important and efficient remedy?"

The girl scratched her head thoughtfully "uhm, sleeping well? I heard you talk about it last night."

"Well, that too, of course. there's also the state of the heart, our feelings affect our health. The happier one is, the higher the chances of recovery." Her eyes lit up in awe and wonder, and hope. "So...if we make him laugh, we're actually healing him? Like you do?" 

"Of course sweetie, you two have an important part as well." Once the drink was ready, you poured some in a mug and went to your father's room, the old man was laid in bed, looking sickly pale and tired. He saw what you were holding and groaned "Oh no, no more of that awful thing." 

"I added some honey this time. It should be bearable." You patiently said. In your many years of practicing medicine, you've encountered a good number of difficult, stubborn patients. Honesty, you cracked sometimes in the beginning, crying behind a big bush or in a brooms' closet, but you eventually learned to get your way and keep a clear conscious. "Come on, I didn't go all the way out there for nothing." 

"...Fine. but I'll drink it on my own pace!" you chuckled, partly satisfied with his response "As long as you do drink it, old man." you placed his mug on the bedside table and turned to leave when his voice spoke again "and (y/n), thank you... I saw the new clothes you got for the kiddos. they needed them for a while now...I couldn't-" 

"It's good." You couldn't let him loath himself further for not being able to provide for them as a parent should. As illness striked him, your father worked extra hard and past his limits, so much that when he got bedridden, he couldn't walk "It really is. Their happiness means the world to me." 

You knew he still blamed himself for that cursed day. The day your late sister offered to go get groceries instead of him. As soon as you received his letter, you gathered your belongings -eyes puffy from crying and lack of sleep- and took the earliest ship back to Arendelle. 

A rough knock on the door grabbed your attention, glancing one last time at the man "I'll go get it." the twins were peaking from behind the curtains of the kitchen's window and let out audible gasps "Oh my god, they carry swords, so cool!"

The visitors were no other than the royal guard, four men in significant greenish robes which had the kingdom's symbol the Crocus, and long columnar shaped hats. Swords safely and readily strapped to their hips. "We came to speak with Doctor Isaac Karlsen." the one at the front said. 

"Yes?" you said.

And he arched an eyebrow at you, sarcastically "You're Isaac Karlsen?"  

"I'm his daughter. Tell me what you want to say and I'll deliver it to him." you politely smiled, at such times, the royal guard was no good news. 

"Right." The guard faked a smile "Don't waste our time and bring him here. It doesn't concern you."

"It does, in fact. He's sleeping." 

"Oh I'm pretty sure He will want to wake up once he finds out it's an order from her majesty, queen Elsa." 

You internally cringed. Similar to your father, you disliked Queen Elsa. It's why he bought a house at the border of the capital after retirement, where life was peaceful and simple. He couldn't depart from Arendelle but preferred to be as far as possible from the icey palace and its surroundings. Serving poor people without charge until he fell sick. 

"What is the order and why involve my father?" 

You seemed to be getting on his nerves "It doesn't concern you." He firmly repeated, moving to walk past you but you blocked his way. His hand instantly flew to grip the hilt of his sword threateningly, and out of nowhere, the kids appeared behind you, eyes gleaming with excitement and admiration. "Hello guard sir good sir!" Jude blurted out. "you guys are awesome. I want to be like you one day!" Flora joined in "slashing enemies with your swords and protecting us!" 

"kids, go back inside. now." out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the guard hesitating at the sight of children and his hold on the weapon dropped with a sigh "An ill person in the palace is in need of a doctor, urgently." He plainly explained to which you nodded. 

"Very well, I'm doctor (Y/N) Karlsen. I've been working for a while. I'll be there first thing in the morning." you extended your hand for a shake and received none in return, just a bewildered and sceptical glare from the man. Another, friendlier looking guard stepped in to whisper something in his ear that he didn't like from his reaction, he replied with "Are you serious?" and slowly faced you again, both hands on his hips "Very well. pack as much clothes as you need, we will be waiting." 

He grinned at your dumbfounded expression "No occasional visits. the doctor is required to live in the palace and be by the patient's side 24/7. That includes not leaving the palace boundaries for uh weeks, perhaps months." 

"I can't." you shook your head "Impossible. I have kids to take care of and my father is old and bedridden. They have nobody else. I can't leave them for months at once!" 

"Auntie is leaving already?" A crestfallen Jude tugged at your dress and Flora tried to comfort him despite her own sadness. 

"We can't keep her majesty waiting." The guard spoke. "sir Erik, we have to tell her highness-" The other man went quiet when their lead guard, who's apparently called Erik, raised his hand "It seems you have to make a decision and quickly, miss (Y/N). We'll give you one day to think about it. but I suggest to start packing your things." With that, they left and you closed the door, still shaken from the encounter. 

"Aw you both..." you bent down to hug them "A hurricane won't separate me from you. So don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." 

"But the queen. she's powerful isn't she?" Flora whispered. It was true, in her few years of ruling, the young dictator has done terrible things to her enemies and opposers that made even the most fearless of men tremble and give in to her. She was a cruel and merciless tactician with a stone, cold heart. 

"And your auntie is smart and capable of handling herself." The girl was embarrassed that she doubted you for a second and nodded "She is." 

"Uhm, by the way auntie." Jude timidly interrupted your moment "Please don't get mad but..." 

"hm, what's wrong Jude?" 

"the tea you made was awfully bitter, it had veeery little honey." he put his index finger and thumb closely together "the more sweet, the better!" Flora snickered at him "It's called 'sweeter' Jude, not 'more sweet'". 

"Okay but where did you get that tea from? I didn't make any tea." you asked.

"Grandpa gave it to me." 

you were unimpressed, and highly disappointed with your father for giving his herbal medicine to the little boy so he wouldn't have to drink it. And for a moment there, you thought maybe you should've let those guards take him. 

[theknightofivanhoe]

Strange Sight - A Hiccelsa Story pt 1. - A Helping Hand

Some Hiccelsa goodness for anyone who wants. Title inspired by the song by KT Tunstall. Hiccup and Elsa belong to Dreamworks and Disney respectively.

Provence, south of France, was the perfect region to spend the summer. Trees and vegetation were as lush as any northern part of Europe could get, but complemented by the golden tan of rocky formations upon which villages and holiday homes were situated. Adding to the sights and smells were rows of lavender, as purple as amethyst bobbing in the gentle breeze. 

The tall, brown-haired, freckle-faced young man, Harrison ‘Hiccup’ Haddock, had dressed for the weather in a green T-shirt, tan shorts and moccasins. ‘Hiccup.’ as he had eventually grown accustomed to being nicknamed, headed through the front door of his newly-rented holiday cottage to unload the last of some maintenance equipment from his black Land Rover. Even on vacation, it took a lot to separate Hiccup from his very own motorcycle machinery that he would tinker with in search of a new innovation that he could soon introduce to the gear-heads that made his target audience. Toothless, his well-built black labrador lay splayed across the cooling stone floor, so Hiccup had to take big steps over those legs and floppy ears of his. He trudged to the Rover and pulled open the boot, before hoisting the case of equipment up in both hands. He had been saving his strength for the heavier stuff, but he still staggered from the weight. Not even the flexible black rods of his prosthetic left leg helped much. “Woah…” the brunette went, clinging onto the heavy case and spreading his feet, his living one and his metal one, to try and balance himself. He had trained himself to cope with a prosthetic, even ride a bike with one, but it still surprised him just what types of situations an artificial limb could bring about. “Aw, no, don't do this - no!” Hiccup yelled, the case tipping out of his hands, landing onto the pebble-strewn ground. What didn’t help was the tools and engine components spilling out, the lid half-open from the impact at which it had fallen. 

“Are you okay?” A female voice from behind caught Hiccup by slight surprise. “Wha - uh, sorry?” Frustrated by his situation, he turned to find the source of the voice; a blond young woman in an ankle-length royal blue gown standing behind him.

“I’m sorry, I’m - I’m sorry, can I help, ma’am?” Hiccup awkwardly asked, feeling as though this somewhat wraith-like girl must have materialised out of practically nowhere. All the girl did was stand where she was with her long wispy hands respectably folded in front of her the way someone would when attending a formal occasion. “Oh, don’t worry, I was just wondering if ‘you’ needed help.” she answered kindly, not moving from where she stood. 

Despite his aggravating business with that case, Hiccup had to take a moment to notice how easily he could call this lovely-looking girl a queen. Curiosity twinkled in her ice blue eyes and her snowy blond hair was neatly tied in an immaculate Dutch-braided bun. Her thin, delicate nose and rouge lips wonderfully accentuated the light, mild-mannered expression on her heart-shaped face. Her blue summer gown flowed in the cooling air while highlighting the hour-glass hips and showing off slim arms as pale as her impressively pretty face, but not pale to the point of looking unhealthy. What completed this look was the set of flat-soled silvery-blue pumps.

Awakening from his stare, Hiccup lightly shook his head. “I’m sorry, don’t worry. I got this, I think -” And he quickly turned to pick up the case. “Would you like a hand with that” the woman asked. There was not a hint of insistence in her soft-spoken voice. If Hiccup asked, she would probably leave. Good-looking as she was, the brunette had felt more prepared for some alone time with his labrador, seeing as how he wasn’t the biggest people’s person. He wrestled to push the clips back in place, sealing the spilt equipment back into the case. “I - I don’t know, this thing’s ‘very’ heavy.” he grunted, yanking one of its handles. The thing barely even budged, crunching along the pebbles. “I could take one end.” The young woman’s voice left Hiccup simply torn between politely refusing her assistance, or getting this stupidly heavy case indoors with an extra pair of hands. “You sure?” he asked, hoping he didn’t come across as attempting to drive the girl away. “It’s got a lot of tools for, like, engineering.” he explained to the woman, though she seemed to be actually listening, not turning away in boredom like he had expected. “Wow, ‘that’ heavy.” she commented humorously. “Well, I’ve had to get ‘my’ stuff in myself too. One more can’t hurt.” She was standing in front of that bigger house facing the cottage Hiccup had rented. And behind her was a sleek, gleaming convertible as silver and spotless as a freshly forged sword blade.

Something then made Hiccup look behind and notice, to even greater annoyance, Toothless was standing outside the cottage in front of the girl.

The girl was a little surprised to find the pitch black labrador staring up at her with wide hazel eyes and swishing his tail side-to-side. Next she smiled in adoration. “Oh...hello there.” she greeted and Toothless sat himself down with his mouth stretched into what seemed like a smile of his own. “Is this your dog?” the girl asked Hiccup. “Mine, and outside the house where he belongs. Sorry about this.” Hiccup bluntly replied, getting up. “Alright, Toothless, nothing to - er - see here. Go on, boy! Back you go. Ah - don’t give me that look!” Toothless was indeed giving him a look that appeared to suggest an immature pout. “Back!” Hiccup ordered, thrusting a finger to the cottage doorway. “Back you go, you useless hound!” “Don’t worry. He’s not doing any harm.” the girl assured, raising a hand. “Could I stroke him?” she then requested, and Toothless opened his mouth wide with his tail wagging even faster at this prospect. “Well…” Before Hiccup could continue, Toothless started to show his gums to the girl in that bizarre smile that gave him his name. The girl’s eyes went round in bemusement at how well the dog hid his canines, just goofily staring up at her and beating his tail against the ground. “You sure you want to?” Hiccup asked the girl, as he rather wished Toothless hadn’t brought this about. “Well…sure.” the blond answered, reaching out a fair-skinned hand for the dog’s head. When her fingers caressed Toothless’ fur, he simply reared his head back in sheer happiness. Hiccup rolled his eyes, but the girl gave his pet such a charming smile, he felt he was in no position to send him back in the house. “He’s so sweet…” the girl complemented, trailing her hand along Toothless’ head and making him pant in joy. “Oh, don’t let his good looks and charm fool you.” Hiccup mock-warned, folding his arms. “When he gets an admirer, he’s got you wrapped round his - well - paw.” “So, Toothless is it?” the stranger inquired, the smile not even leaving her ever-pretty face as the labrador flicked his head between her and Hiccup. “That’s him.” Hiccup responded, smirking at his rascal of a dog and ruffling the fur of his head. 

“So, shall I help you with this case?” the girl eventually asked when she remembered the help she had offered Hiccup in the first place. Hiccup considered for a moment, then breathed out. “Okay, sure thing. I’ll take the front end, yeah?” “Yeah, got it.” the blond agreed, striding gracefully round to the other side of the case. She closed her fingers around the handle, then pulled. What made Hiccup’s jaw drop a little and Toothless quirk his head sideways was how this porcelain doll of a girl got her end of the case a couple of inches off the ground! She did grit her pearly teeth a little from the effort, but she was still managing even with such thin arms. Instantly snapping out of his surprise, he snatched up the handle on his side. Aided by the girl’s unexpected strength, he managed to get the case level, hovering above the ground despite the sheer heaviness of its equipment. With Toothless waddling behind with his tail wagging, the two slowly walked it towards the cottage, into the doorway and lowered it onto the floor. 

Hiccup and the blond panted a little from the exertion, but looked at one another faintly smiling. Toothless glanced down at the box, then up at his owner and the girl as he panted excitedly, his tongue hanging all the way out of his grinning mouth. “Wow, team effort.” Hiccup commented gladly. “You led the way. I just took some of the weight.” the girl replied benevolently, rubbing Toothless’ head. “I’m sure that doesn’t make you any less deserving of a little something…” Hiccup started, holding up a finger. Now truly enjoying this unknown girl’s company, he bent down and opened the small fridge. “White or red?” “Oh, I don’t know…” The blond looked away, clearly trying not to smile. “White?” “White it is.” His nervousness a distant memory, Hiccup straightened with a wine bottle in hand and a slightly goofy smile on his strong-chinned face, opening the overhead cupboard behind him. “Ow!” The cupboard door bonked the back of his head! “Ooh! Are you alright?” the girl asked with a pained expression. Toothless gave his master a look that said he was always doing this. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Hiccup grunted, rubbing the soreness away and getting two wine glasses. “They don’t call me Hiccup for nothing.” “I’m sorry?” the girl asked, a little befuddled. “Oh, that?” the young man replied and remembered. “My name’s Hiccup -” “Your actual name?” the blond inquired. “Ah, no, not my *name* name - it’s my nickname.” the brunette corrected her, pouring some wine. “If you want my full name, it's Harrison Hickory Haddock...the third. I run that motorcycle service down in Berk.” He offered a glass, the amber-coloured drink sloshing in the crystal clear glass. “Berk...I haven't been there but apparently it's quite nice there.” the girl commented with a light smile, accepting her drink and stroking Toothless some more. Hiccup still couldn’t fathom how such hands as delicate as hers could get a half-tonne case off the ground. “If you can get through nine months of snow and three months of hail that constitute a year there…” Hiccup replied, leaning up against the kitchen counter as he and the girl sipped their drinks, a happy Toothless sitting between them. “Oh, then I’ll make sure to check it out in the snowy months. I happen to like snow.” the girl smiled, her lip rouge succeeding in drawing Hiccup’s eye. Now it was her turn to be absorbed in just how handsome he looked.

She found herself enjoying the way his chocolate-brown hair flowed around his head with tufts at his ears and neck, how his nose was rounded at the end, but how well-defined and lightly stubbled his chin was. “But enough about me, I didn’t get ‘your’ name.” Hiccup told her. “My name’s Elsa.” the girl replied politely. “Elsa...cool name…” Hiccup murmured, taking another sip. Elsa grinned gently at his praise. “Thank you.” Then something about that name rang a bell in Hiccup. “Wait - aren't you Elsa from Arendelle? You run that big architecture firm?” Elsa took another sip of her wine. “The very same.” she chirped. “So what brings you out here to Provence, mon cherie?” Hiccup grinned as he asked this, exaggerating the French accent, which made Elsa smirk in amusement. “Oh, you know, an architecture company’s a huge responsibility. My family’s owned it for years.” she explained, pausing for a drink. “I’m lucky to ever go and get some time off.” “Guess you came to the right place.” Hiccup agreed. “You want to sit down?” 

While Toothless lay half-asleep on his side like a sardine, Hiccup and Elsa sat at the small wooden table beside the cottage’s kitchen area, chatting and drinking. “ - Her name’s Anna. You’d love her. She’s dating this guy Kristoff; he’s employed at my firm. You’d get along with him too.” Elsa was telling Hiccup. “You do live in good company.” he said, already liking the idea of meeting the rich girl’s sister and the collection of colourful characters she had befriended. “But what about your friends?” Elsa asked with that same curiosity from when she had volunteered to help lift that case. “My friends? Well there’s Gobber, missing a right hand and left leg, helps me out at the motorcycle repairs. It’s thanks to him that I can even put in all those nuts and bolts.” Hiccup explained. “Fishlegs, that’s his nickname, he’s an old schoolmate, great at computers, helped me get set up with my tablet here.” He held up his iPad to demonstrate. “Snotlout, ah…” He bobbed his hand side-to-side. “Drives a monster truck and gets a bit egotistical when it comes to racing. Bit of a muttonhead, but means well.” Elsa just nodded. “Ruffnut and Tuffnut, they’re twins, can be a bit of a handful. Navy-trained like me, love their death metal. And their motorcycles. But you’d definitely love my mum.” “If she’s mother to someone as sweet as you, I think I would.” Elsa smiled over the rim of her glass. This complement sent butterflies fluttering in Hiccup’s stomach and his cheeks grew warmer than the French summer air could possibly be, even in the cooling shade of the rented cottage. He wanted the wine he drank to extinguish his blushing, his lips seeming to stick to the glass. “Hiccup, you okay?” Elsa was looking at him with those winter-blue eyes in which the brunette saw many things, such as fondness in finding companionship, but unusually, a bit of loneliness. “I’m fine, thanks, Elsa…” He had only just met this girl, himself a moody, gawky mechanic and a beautiful businesswoman, but rather than dwell on it, Hiccup went on drinking, Elsa doing the same. 

“Well, thank you for - uh, thank you, Hiccup.” Elsa eventually said, getting up once her glass was finished. Toothless bolted to his feet and wagged his tail in the hopes of some more affection before she left. “Oh, don’t mention it.  Thank ‘you’ for shifting that stupid case.” Hiccup replied, lightly kicking said case with a clunk. “Oh, it was nothing - ” “Seriously, you got some real push - ” They paused when noticing they were talking over one another and suddenly went silent, glancing away from one another sheepishly. Toothless darted his head between them waiting for whatever was going to happen next. “Well, I think I should be getting back…” Elsa suggested. Toothless’ eyes grew round at the very thought. “Sure, I’ve got to get Toothless and my supper on the go too…” Hiccup awkwardly agreed. “Same here.” Elsa remarked. “I know, Toothless…” she continued, getting to one knee and stroking the labrador who panted in his desire for her to keep going. “Hope you’re liking that place you rented. Sure looks fancy.” Hiccup smirked. “Well I’m starting to like yours really.” Elsa replied, appreciating the cottage’s more humble, rustic design. “It just looks so…cosy.” Now Hiccup was beginning to wonder if they were drawing out their goodbyes, but nonetheless he glanced around and murmured, “Sure does.” Giving him that mild, possibly bashful smile, Elsa finished stroking Toothless and moved for the door. She paused and turned back slightly. “Hiccup?”

Hiccup froze. Elsa’s tone sounded as though she was about to invite him for something. Toothless pricked his ears up. Elsa still had her back to Hiccup, but was glancing at him from the corner of those half-closed eyes. She seemed to be getting suspiciously coy. “Yeah?” Hiccup quietly responded. “The house I’m staying at has a pool.” Elsa told him. “If you want, you can use it too.” Hiccup’s heart rate accelerated a little. They had only just met, but now Elsa was permitting him to use a pool that belonged to the place she had rented! “But, Elsa - I don’t - what if you…you - wouldn’t you want to - ?” Facing him, Elsa lightly beamed. “Hiccup, you can swim any time you like. I won’t mind us sharing.” Even Toothless looked up and Hiccup and jerked his head in Elsa’s direction. He was obviously hinting for his owner to agree. “Well, thanks.” the young man replied, wondering where this whole invitation of Elsa’s was leading up to. Sometimes he hated how much of a stubborn animal Toothless could be. “Night, Elsa.” “Goodnight, Hiccup.” Elsa half-whispered with that faint grin. “See you soon…”  

Stay tuned, Hiccelsa lovers...

[oseytorvan]

A strange paradox: every time I try to give other couples with Hiccup a chance, I stumble upon...

"Astrid was always a little rude to me, but I let her do it, mainly because she scared me, and I didn't know how to confront her about it" Mericcup

"Hiccup, Elsa's best friend, is in love with Astrid, but when he finds out that Astrid is a monster, he starts falling in love with Elsa" Hiccelsa

"And also how Astrid reacted when he rejected the idea of just SPARING the dragon. He narrowly escaped death from the thoughtless throwing of the axe " Heatcup

"Astrid and Hiccup broke up two years ago. When Astrid turned sixteen, her body became more lush than it was before. In just eighteen years, Astrid has slept with a lot of men" Ruffcup

"Astrid has never been an overly sympathetic girl; she couldn't understand that Hiccup had to slow down for a few weeks after his injury—another thing that helped drive a wedge between them. She immediately began to tap him on the shoulder and drag him along as if nothing had happened. Camicazi knew. She knew because she had the good sense to follow Hiccup in his hour of weakness. In Viking society, you hid your pain, and those who showed it soon learned not to. It was a lesson that Hiccup refused to learn. Camicazi knew that Hiccup hated being beaten; that it brought back too many memories. Pulling the hair, scratching the back, biting the shoulder — yes. But no fists. Astrid didn't know how Hiccup liked to dominate—that if he was pushed away, it would be because he chose it. Astrid didn't know how Hiccup could move his tongue like a damn snake" Hiccami  

"Why don't you want to marry me?!" Astrid angrily shouts at him, threatening him with her big axe" Hiccup and OC

I am glad that there are more shippers in the fandom who respect Astrid and her relationship with Hiccup. But there are still a lot of similar stories. Many authors just cannot write fan fiction about their favorite couple without offending Hiccstrid. And that's the real problem. I am very sorry that for a long time I lacked the determination to raise this topic.

Please stop. Let's put an end to this

[ericmicael]

I didn't expect the reception of "Wish" to be so low at the beginning, but I believe it will get better with time as was the case with "Elemental". And honestly I find this one more interesting than the recent Pixar film. But talking about the film itself, I'd like to talk a little about IGN's analysis.

Especially these two moments:

"The animation style reads more graphic than most of the studio’s 3DCG features. It doesn’t precisely match the animated exuberance seen in the Spider-Verse movies or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem, but it similarly attempts to call to mind the hand-drawn era – or at least to feel like it exists in a state between painted cels and moving pixels. The highlights are the lush, moonlit backgrounds that resemble storybook illustrations."

"There’s an irredeemable bad guy here, which breaks from recent trends of Disney movies that either eschew a villain entirely, or wait to reveal them in a last-minute twist. But Maginfico, and his groovily resentful, but ultimately underwhelming statement of wickedness, “This is the Thanks I Get?!,” come off as generic. Like so much of Wish, the king is made up of pieces from better movies, best described as a mix between Frozen’s Hans and The Princess and the Frog’s Dr. Facilier."

The animation style and the villain.

I still want Disney to continue with this style of animation, I want "Frozen 3/4" to have this style of animation even though from the beginning it didn't seem to be the pinnacle of the technique like "Spider-Verse" which brought the spotlight to the technique. But I still want this to evolve at Dsney and make the most of it.

The King Magnifico was Disney and Jennifer Lee's official response to those who missed the classic villains, the villains that created a fanbase and this fanbase didn't try to pretend that the character was good, but rather embraced his villainy without wanting to turn him into what he is not and never has been. "I like a villain, I want him to stay a villain and have a glorious death, and that's okay," I miss that. And indeed Magnifico seems to fit that thought, and please Disney don't abandon that thought.

And in relation to the villain, more specifically his wife, Queen Amaya, I found some of his descriptions curious. In the analysis she seems to not believe that the King Magnifico is the villain, being a naive character, and also sees a little of her in Asha when she was younger.

I'm starting to consider this film an alternative version of "Frozen 1" where Hans succeeds in killing Elsa and thereby steals her powers, and Anna marries him believing he is a hero, but years later a young girl who does Anna remembering herself in the past appears in the kingdom and reveals the truth about Hans. Honestly, it wouldn't be very difficult to make this fanfic.

[jopetkasi]

Of Yogas, Open Minded Wives and anything in between...

friend: "you should eat my husband's sperm"

me: "ano kamo?"

friend: "he needs to release sexual energy and since I am practicing celibacy, you can do this great service to humanity by entertaining my husband"

me .................

The moment she demanded these things, I know the bitch is smoking a different kind of weed.

CONTEXT...

remember this lady friend of mine who was upset because i gave her daughter an Elsa Doll (Frozen)? saying her daughter is non-binary and who went ballistic on me because i admitted that her husband and I had sex when he was still single? - turns out the lines she yelled: "walanghiya kayo mga taksil" were part of a script for a play she was rehearsing - which convinced me so much I thought she discovered her husband and mine's little secret.

anyways, this friend of mine who now wants us to call her "Lady Lakshmi Pure Love" is into the new age belief and has devoted herself to the extreme practice of kundalini yoga (google nya nalang) she also gave up meat and is now abstaining from sex because she wants to be pure before Goddess Ganesh - kung sino man sya.

matter of fact before i entered her house, she sprinkled me with water infused with flowers and whatever McCormmick spices there is and rang this small bell from my head to toe to cleanse my chakra and emit good aura as she uttered "alis evil spirit! alisssss!" (tangina talaga ni friend)

so going back to the convo. I was dumbfounded by her inviting me to have sex with her husband. i mean, and no offence but is swinging a normal routine for new-age peeps?

"but he can masturbate, right" - The husband who is sitting in front of me is fnow lushed in sheer humiliation.

"The sperm gets wasted. it has energy, it needs a container"

this time the husband has given up and excused himself and went out to smoke.

I explained to her that i don't think i could do what she is asking and whatever happened between me and her husband was a one-time event in the past; we were in our eighteens, we had raging hormones then. besides, I am ninong to her daughter....and yeah, to bottom is one thing I can't do, period.

"Would you have him sleep with a prostitute?" she bargains further.

sa isip ko "prostitute? eh yan nga gusto ng asawa mo eh, di mo lang alam" - i should know, he frequents Festival Mall for hookups. Thanks to my guy friends who are 100x more chismosa than Cristy Fermin - I got this news from them.

"sorry dear, I can't I have a boyfriend"

"no you don't. look at you, you're fat"

"c'mon this is not right"

"nagmamalinis ka pa eh alam naman namin baho mo"

"nope. hindi ako mag eenjoy"

"pag isipan mo ha"

complete silence. I then slightly diverted the convo and told her I am going home. she on the one hand went back to her lotus position to meditate.

the husband brought me to the door, apologetic.

"You're the 5th and I am sorry"

"okay lang. nabigla lang ako"

and so ended my Monday evening.....

[fionagardens]

So much going on in the garden just now, and so little time to share it! We had a month of very wet weather in April into May, a now a warm spell has begun, prompting very lush growth. An English garden is always lush and vibrant in May, but this year everything is particularly enthusiastic. My clematis, Elsa Spath, is flowering more exuberantly than ever before!

[beyondtheplainssafaris]

Top Kenyan Parks for Safari Adventures

Kenya is renowned for its stunning safari experiences, offering a range of diverse parks and reserves. For those seeking unforgettable wildlife encounters, here are some of the Best Kenya parks for safari to explore. Whether you're looking for the classic savanna landscapes or unique ecosystems, Kenya's parks deliver spectacular adventures.

Meru National Park Safaris

Meru National Park is an exceptional destination for those wanting a more off-the-beaten-path safari experience. Known for its rich biodiversity and the captivating story of Elsa the lioness, the park provides an ideal backdrop for safaris. A safari in Meru National Park Safaris reveals a variety of wildlife, from the majestic African elephants to the elusive leopards. This park is particularly celebrated for its lush landscapes and relatively low visitor numbers, making it perfect for a more intimate wildlife experience.

Diani Beach Safari Kenya

Combining beach relaxation with safari excitement, diani Beach Safari kenya offers a unique experience. While Diani Beach itself is famous for its pristine white sands and crystal-clear waters, it also serves as a gateway to some fantastic safari options. From Diani Beach, visitors can embark on safaris that take them to nearby game reserves and national parks. These safaris offer a chance to explore Kenya's diverse wildlife while enjoying the beachside retreat.

Safari Kilimanjaro National Park

For those interested in combining safari adventures with iconic landscapes, Safari Kilimanjaro National Park is a must-visit. Located near the base of Mount Kilimanjaro, the park offers stunning views of the mountain and opportunities for wildlife viewing. The park is known for its diverse ecosystems, ranging from dense forests to open savannas. A safari here provides a chance to witness wildlife against the backdrop of Africa’s highest peak, creating a truly memorable experience.

In summary, Kenya's parks offer something for every safari enthusiast, whether you're exploring the lesser-known Meru National Park, enjoying the blend of beach and safari at Diani Beach, or experiencing the breathtaking scenery around Kilimanjaro National Park. Each destination promises unique adventures and unforgettable wildlife encounters.

[jaimiegoodfans]

As I adjusted the intricate gold crown on my head, I admired the details of the ornate dress I was wearing. Today, I wasn’t just Rapunzel; I was the Queen of Hearts, ready for an enchanting adventure in the mystical realms of Disney. Wearing this exquisite red cape, I couldn’t help but feel the transformation, my long blonde hair cascading down to the floor, a reminder of my dual identity as both queen and princess. Jaimie, are you ready? I heard a familiar voice call out. Belle appeared, her face lit with a warm smile. You look absolutely regal. Thank you, Belle, I replied, smoothing the embroidery on my gown. It’s not every day a girl gets to be the Queen of Hearts. Belle giggled and took my hand. Enchanted Forest awaits. We must find Alice. She’s run off to explore Wonderland again, and who knows what trouble she’s gotten into this time. We stepped through the vintage door into the lush, magical forest. The birds sung sweetly, and the trees seemed to whisper secrets of old adventures. As we walked, I couldn’t help but dream of the various characters I loved to cosplay—From Rapunzel to Elsa, each character brought a unique story, a new way to express myself. Suddenly, a white rabbit darted out from behind a tree. Jaimie, Queen of Hearts, he gasped. Alice is in trouble in the Queen’s rose garden. She tried to paint the roses red and...well, you know how the Queen feels about her roses. We rushed towards the garden, my heart pounding. There she was, Alice, caught red-handed (quite literally) with a paintbrush in one hand and a shocked expression on her face. Really, Alice? I sighed, though I couldn’t help but smile. She shrugged sheepishly. I just thought the roses would be prettier this way. Belle and I exchanged amused glances. Well, Queen of Hearts or not, I guess it’s time to make amends with the real Queen. Let’s go find her before she decides to chop off anyone’s head. As we journeyed deeper into Wonderland, I realized how much I loved putting on these elaborate costumes and stepping into different stories. Whether as Jaimie Good or Rapunzel, or even the Queen of Hearts, each cosplay was a new adventure, filled with excitement, laughter, and a bit of magic.

[true--north]

Your Iduna headcanons? 🍁

🍁 It kind of contradicts Dangerous Secrets, but I like to think that she and Agnarr got to know each other, that the deleted scenes happened, Agnarr just forgot it because he hit his head.

🍁 Iduna seems to have some connection with the Air. Not like Elsa with the Water, but not like any other member of the Northuldra tribe. She was special since the beginning.

🍁 She was torn between two places. She loved Arendelle and Agnarr, but she missed the Forest.

🍁 I headcanon that there was a family, "our oldest family" of shamans, leaders and healers, and it was foretold that the Fifth Spirit would come from it. It's Iduna's family. Maybe some might think that Iduna herself was going to become the Spirit because Gale made her her favourite.

🍁 She loved singing but was afraid that Agnarr could recognize the voice.

🍁 It was love from the first sight, first a childish philia, later something other.

🍁 Iduna's hair was so lush and free that she needed a special balm to make it into an Arendellian hairstyle. Frozen has a thing for hair symbolism, does it?

🍁 Iduna was spending so many times in the library and in the secret room, she traveled to some merchants and forgotten book stores to find some medieval manuscripts and notes about Nordic folklore and legends.

🍁 Iduna didn't know for sure that her people were not to blame but she wanted peace and reconciliation.

🍁 She agreed with Agnarr about the isolation because she did not know another way. Magic of Nature was celebrated back then among her people but here in Elsa, she saw something other, too powerful magic of ice; she saw that Elsa was afraid of it.

🍁 She considered Johan for a moment when Agnarr seemed to be unreachable, but her love to the latter was too strong to settle with another.

🍁 Iduna would have given birth to the gifted child even if she married someone else.

🍁 In the end, she blamed herself (Elsa will inherit it).

🍁 Anna inherited her love to romance books and balls.

🍁 All windmills of Arendelle were made by Iduna.

🍁 Iduna thought about Lord Peterssen as of her foster father.

🍁 Iduna loved needlework and knitting, she embroidered her purple dress by herself.

🍁 There were so many moments when Iduna wanted to tell Agnarr about everything, but there were also many moments when she wanted to forget about her past.

🍁 The first year after the wedding, they built their estate in the mountains, it was Iduna's idea to be closer to Nature.

🍁 When Iduna became queen, she took over the guardianship of the Orphanage and improved the conditions here.

🍁 She also opened a public children library.

🍁 Iduna studied better than Agnarr. Their teachers loved her.

🍁 She often persuaded him to sneak out the castle to go for a walk or buy something in the town (chocolate), whereas without her Agnarr was indecisive and would have obediently sat behind closed gates.

🍁 The other children at the Orphanage might be jealous that she was chosen for the castle but Iduna knew why it was that: because the Regent knew that she was the Northuldra.

🍁 Iduna, describing Agnarr her supposedly lost behind the mist wall parents, told real stories about Yelana, the Leader and her mother.

🍁 She told Elsa and Anna many stories of Northuldra, about giants, huldras, the heavenly elk and the secret white river. The girls thought she had composed them herself.

🍁 There was at least one case when Agnarr or the sisters got sick, and Iduna treated them with herbs according to the Northuldra recipe, which she remembered.

🍁 Iduna loved to tease Agnarr and make little pranks to see his smile, because the prince was usually sad and quiet.

🍁 When the masquerade ball was held in Arendelle, she recognized him even in a mask.

🍁 Iduna felt weird when he was talking about his mysterious lovely savior, so every time she tried to distract him.

🍁 Their last days on the ship(I call it "The royal crocus") were the calmest and clearest: finally no more secrets between them. They were talking a lot to get to know each other once again.

[nightridgehq]

.　　. 　 ˚　.  accepted !! welcome to nightridge, la, brielle carter & elsa rose !! we’re happy to have you here. you have 24 hours to send us a message to join the discord !!

( greta onieogou. cis woman/she+her. ) welcome to nightridge, la, brielle carter. they say you’re a thirty year old manager at belemonte books. it’s said that you’re a bit + sentimental but also - shy. your aesthetic is stacked books on the floor of your bedroom, hushed toned voice, getting excited about a new book. i hope you enjoy your stay !! ( casper. )

( margot robbie. cis woman/she+her. ) welcome to nightridge, la, elsa rose. they say you’re a thirty-four year old manager at liquid lush. it’s said that you’re a bit + resourceful but also - vicious. your aesthetic is black clothing taking over your wardrobe, eyeliner that's on point, metal music playing in your car. i hope you enjoy your stay !! ( casper. )

[onebigerror]

@theknifeinyou

anyone that came into their little home claiming to be different was different enough to him. elsa was a little more skeptical. if moon could do something to prove her worth that was all the old woman needed. hard work that she didn’t have to do dazzled miss mars just as much as money. even if the person doing it didn’t have the appearance of a freak just being there was enough to make them one. in the honorary sense. moon was in pain and need of an escape from that pain so that was something jimmy couldn’t allow himself to turn away. elsa wasn’t wrong when she said that he was a sucker for a pretty face. he was also a stickler for taking care of those that abused others if he possibly could. 

he nodded. “now there’s a difference between likin’ the drink and bein’ a lush. the lush don’t care what they have to do to get the booze.” he liked the drink but he wasn’t a lush. he’d been there before and wasn’t going back to that way of life. all it did was hurt people. it especially hurt his mama to see him that way. “he won’t get in here. if he tries he’s got another thing comin.’ he’ll meet these claws.” the lobster boy looked at her curiously. “talk about what later? we don’t keep no secrets here.” it didn’t stop him from leading her from the main tent to the food area. “this is where we eat an’ gather. everyone chips in on the cookin’ and shares everythin.’ you’ll need to do the same.” he still didn’t feel a reason to distrust her for whatever she wanted to tell him later. "there are plenty of us here. not as many as there used to be." he answered her question with a sigh as he thought of meep and some of the others that deserved better than life gave them. "a lota freaks don't live long but the ones here consider each other family."

[bestshirtcanbuy]

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[thebandcampdiaries]

Lemonhead presents: "Anna's Song (The Musical)”

Lemonhead is the artist name of Kimberly Collins, who is a songwriter, artist, and producer hailing from Minnesota. She has a distinct and diverse approach to music, combining a multitude of genres such as pop, indie-folk, soundtrack music, and broadway scores. Her music is known for its melodious and storytelling nature, which serves as a great bridge between the two.

Her latest studio album, called "Anna's Song (The Musical)," is the perfect example of her musical style. It is a musical based on the character Anna from the Frozen franchise, which follows her personal journey of self-discovery after being forced into the role of queen after the second movie in the franchise. The album features nine songs, including "Strong Heart," the lead single, and one of the most poignant moments of the album, serving as a grand finale. 

For those who might not be familiar with the original story, the "Frozen" franchise tells the story of Elsa and Anna, the royal sisters of the magical kingdom of Arendelle. Without ruining it for potential new viewers with any spoilers, this is a story that goes beyond adventures, magic and excitement: it’s about the bond between these two sisters, as they try to grow and find their place in life.

The album features a wide variety of styles, from the soothing piano melodies of "Gone" to the mesmerizing ambient textures of "More." Lemonhead's music is hauntingly beautiful, alternating bright and melodious vocals to lush piano sounds and ethereal background ambiance. The album also features sparse percussion and other electronic sounds, adding more depth and color to the songs. The mood of the songs serve as a fantastic link with the actual title character. Anna maintains her positive spirit and determination, in spire of all the challenges. Still, her courage and loyalty  showcase her true strength and willingness to stay optimistic no matter what. Lemonhead translated some Anna’s innermost thoughts into beautiful and poignant songs, with an unmistakable musical theater flair that especially comes through in the vocals. Kimberly’s singing style stands out for its rich, expressive tone and remarkable versatility.

To conclude, this musical is a true journey into the artist's psyche and emotions, which does a great job at portraying an intimate side to the character, often not seen so explicitly in the actual movies.

Find out more about Lemonhead, and listen to "Anna's Song (The Musical)”