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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

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Might I request an enemies to friends to lovers with Astarion?

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE DRABBLE. IT IS ALMOST 4K WORDS. It also became a songfic. The song is "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay

Also it is 11:20. I am so tired. I do not have the energy to proofread this rn. So it's as good as it's gonna get

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

Word Count: 3,957

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AO3

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I just really hate your face

Though I know that won't surprise you

But, to me, your skin is one giant wart

And your laugh's one big snort

And you stink, so in short

I despise you

You disgrace the human race

'Cause you're more of a mosquito

I would rather have the dentist and drill

Then this swine in the swill

And if you were a bill, I would veto

And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace

But since the world could never be that great

I'll just hate your stupid face

Astarion sighed just behind you. You glared over your shoulder at him. Did he really have to be so annoying when you were trying to help? What did he have against doing the right thing?! Or were all high elves as up their asses as him?

The little girl glanced nervously between you, her hands fiddling anxiously with each other. “I-Is that alright?”

You turned back to her with a big smile, though Astarion could see the strain behind it. “Of course! It’s no problem. We’ll find your toy and bring it back before nightfall, how’s that sound?”

“Really?!” Her eyes became wide and excited, bouncing on her feet like there were hot coals beneath it. “Thank you so much!”

You watched as she ran off back to her mother, jumping as she grabbed the woman’s arm and pointed at you. You smiled, genuine this time, and waved to them both. Then, you turned to go back into the woods.

The joy didn’t last long.

“I thought being an adventurer meant slaying dragons, learning powerful spells, gaining power - that sort of thing.” Astarion sighed again, long and dramatic, as he stepped over a branch. “But, no, here we are, armed to the teeth, tadpoles crawling into our minds, looking for a stuffed animal.”

You grit your teeth together and tried to ignore him. The sooner you found the girl’s stuffed bear, the sooner you could stop listening to his whining. “She said she lost it over here, somewhere, but something could have taken it or moved it by now. If we split up, we can cover more ground.”

You could almost feel the way he rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. If I find it, I’m not telling you. And I’m certainly not going to touch it. Gods only know what’s on it.”

“You’re such a child!”

He lays a hand over his chest, looking down his nose at you. “I’m so sorry that I have some dignity left.”

How did you get stuck with such an annoying, self-entitled, brat?

“Fine! Then I’ll look, and you can follow me around like a lost puppy.” You smiled sickeningly sweet up at him, your whole expression filled with sarcasm and annoyance. “Happy?”

He scowled. “And I have to follow you because…? If you’re so eager for my company, you should just say so, darling.”

You shook your head, facade falling. “You’re impossible.” You stomped off. He could follow you or wait around, you didn’t have the energy left to care.

—

Oh, no

I just really like your face

You don't have to look so happy

I'm not really into love that you flaunt

In some glittery font

But if that's what you want

Make it snappy

I just feel so out of place

Well, except for when you're near me

When you're gone, I'm like a plant with no root

Or a song that's on mute

Don't you dare call it cute!

You should fear me!

And if the world was perfect, you would've never invaded my space

But since the world's obsessed with saying, "psych!"

Now I like your stupid face

You tilted your head, watching as Astarion held up a mirror. The tadpole kept him from burning in the sun, but it did nothing to bring back his reflection.

“Looking at something?” His voice catches you off guard. It was odd to have someone talking to you with their back turned, even more so when he could see your reflection and you couldn’t see his.

“Just looking,” you tell him. “What are you doing?”

He sighs, forlorn. “I’m looking, too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?”

He stands and turns while he speaks, finally meeting you face-to-face. “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He sighs again. His face looks so droopy and sad, like a puppy left out in the rain. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

You look at his eyes, really look. It was hard to picture him with any other color. It was a side-effect of his vampirism, but you could go your whole life believing they always were and always had been red. “What color were they before?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past.” His face scrunches up in rage as he throws the mirror on the ground. You step back to avoid the shards that break from it. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

You can’t imagine forgetting your face. It’s a rather big portion of who you are, after all. Thinking about looking in a mirror and seeing nothing stirs your stomach like a witch’s brew. You study his face, eyes tracing over every curve and sharp edge and wrinkle. You tried to imagine being him, no longer able to see what you looked like.

Astarion frowns at you. “What?”

“I’ll be your mirror.” The words are out before you can even think them, but a spark of hope flickers in his eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to back out of it now. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me.” He pauses. His voice gets soft, lacking its usual bravado. “What you see.”

He waits as you look at him. You try to figure out what the world sees, versus what you see. The world may see his eyes, sharp and red and keen. The world would see his dangerous smile, full of pretty teeth and sharp fangs, threatening to bite.

But it’s not what you see. You see his hair, paler than freshly fallen snow. You see the way it curls around his ears, how there’s always one stubborn strand hanging by his forehead. You see the wrinkles that crease his face when he smiles, surrounding his mouth and crowding in the corners of his eyes. And you’re startled, trying to figure out how long ago you’d noticed these things about him.

“I see… the creases when you laugh.”

He sneers, placing a hand over his chest. He takes it as an insult when you mean it in the kindest way possible. Without his wrinkles, he wouldn’t be Astarion. “Excuse me? I’m an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” He huffs. He looks like he wants to stop - never mind what he looks like, he doesn’t want to hear what else you could possibly say. But he continues, “You can do better. What else?” The curiosity wins out.

You wonder if you should tell him the easy answer. Tell him what the world sees. What everyone else sees. But to do so feels like a huge disservice. You inhale, prepared to be scolded once more. “I see the way your hair curls around your ears.”

“This is meant to be flattery, not poetry.” He sighs, creases forming between his brows as he frowns, annoyed. “Just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

“Is that all you want?” You don’t mean to sound as angry as you do. “Shallow praise?”

He scoffs. “Hardly.” He begins ticking off fingers. “There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

You shake your head. “What I see isn’t good enough for you then? The seductive, charming face you put on for everyone else - that’s what you want to know about?” He sneers. He hates how easily you’ve read him. And you hate how much it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s because your words mean nothing, or because he can’t even allow himself a single, beautiful flaw. “The world sees your eyes. They’re strong and piercing. And your smile: Dangerous. They see you for the monster you are. Are you satisfied now?”

You leave before he can answer you. Anger trembles in your fingers, but they’re weighed down with sadness. A conflicting bundle of emotions twists in your chest. You shouldn’t care if all he wants is to be called pretty and move on. You shouldn’t! And you don’t!

But you do…

—

I just really miss your face

Though, by now, I must disgust you

I had tried to be the stubbornest mule

'Cause I knew life was cruel

So I guess I was foolish to trust you

But I wait here just in case

Though I know I'm being senseless

How could I have ever been so naive

And wear my heart on my sleeve

When I knew it would leave me defenseless?

And if the world was perfect, you would be here in my embrace

But since the world denied me one last kiss

I'll just miss your stupid face

The sun burned. Truly, honest to gods burned. And he ran. What else was he supposed to do? Bake in the sunlight while everyone else said their teary goodbyes, “We’ll see you down the road”, yadda yadda?

But, he can admit when he messed up.

He should have stayed longer. By the docks. The sun was just beginning to rise, he had plenty of time to slip from one shadow to the next before it was high in the sky. He could have said his goodbyes. He should have.

Already he missed Karlach. He fondly remembers when she hauled him over her shoulder, jostling him about as she ran. He certainly wasn’t too pleased at the time, but now… And he missed her nickname for him. And the banter, and teasing, and… everything.

Everyone had their charms, he supposed. Gale was, well, Gale, but even he wasn’t too bad. And you.

It was hard to admit. He could say he missed the others all day, but you? You who dragged him into the woods to find a stuffed animal for a kid? Who begrudgingly let him have a sip that night he revealed himself? Who yelled at him when he couldn’t bear hearing anything other than he wanted to when you offered to be his mirror? Who hugged him after he killed Cazador? Who helped him save his brothers and sisters and all the other souls whose lives he ruined? Who smiled so sweetly at him?

He couldn’t say it.

After he ran away, cursing and damning the gods for confining him to the shadows again, he disappeared to the Underdark. You’d mentioned how they needed a leader, guidance. And, well, he had nowhere else to go.

He never got to see you run in the direction he left after saying your goodbyes, smiling and excited. Or watch as you search and search for him. How you shout his name. How tears well in your eyes as you realize he’s gone.

And maybe it’s better that way.

—

What are you doing here?

I didn't run away!

It was... it was a strategic retreat

What is there to talk about? It's over—I ruined it

Well, yeah of course I'm sorry, but

No, no, don't forgive me!

Why do you do that?

Why—why give me another chance to mess things up?

Because you—what?

Those three little words

Out of the blue

Completely uncalled for

Especially from you

Why don't you hate me?

Why do you care?

Can't you berate me? Isn't that fair?

Where is your glare?

Don't you dare leave our problems and pain on the shelf!

Because if you don't hate me, I can't hate myself

But that's why I need you

You shatter my fear

'Cause despite my misdeed, you are still right here

Though it's stupid to date me

You're willing to try

And if you don't hate me, then why should I?

Are you sure you don't want to give up on me?

You're a moron

The last thing Astarion anticipates is you barging into his home, stomping and angry. The next last thing he expects is for you to throw a cloak in his face. He backs up as fast as you approach, tripping and falling backward over an armchair. It tips back with him and he lands with a thud. When he pulls the cloak off his face, you’re standing over him, still just as pissed as before.

“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Hello?”

“You ran away!”

“Yes, yes, I know-”

“You ran away! I went chasing after you and you were gone!”

“The sun! I couldn’t-”

“I know! That’s why I went and got you that damn cloak! And I was going to give it to you on the docks, but you ran away!”

He struggles to get up, grunting as he tries to push the armchair off so he’s not bent in half. You huff and sit the chair upright. Then, you offer him a hand. He’s not sure if he should take it. He’s half-certain you’ll flip him over and crack the floor with his body. But you wave your hand, insistent, and he does not want to piss you off any more, so he takes it. You haul him to his feet.

He holds the cloak out in front of him, studying it with a frown. “Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but clothes don’t actually protect us from the sun.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” You sigh, hands on your hips, but you seem to have cooled off some. “It’s the Cloak of Dragomir. Gale helped me find where it was hidden. I figured, if the tadpole is the only thing keeping you safe in the sun, then after it’s all over, you’d need something else to protect you. So.” You gestured at the cloak.

He was speechless, and perhaps a bit skeptical. It had already been several weeks since the docks, and every day he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Basking in the sun. Lounging in her warmth like a cat as he sleepily flipped through a book. It sounded too good to be true - a simple piece of fabric that could prevent him from turning to ash?

“Are you sure it works?”

You laughed, airily and annoyed. “No, I had a shortage of vampires to test it on at the time. I was going to find out when you tried it on. If it didn’t work, well…” You let out a long breath. You refused to take your eyes away from the cloak. Like looking at him again would bring all the rage and frustration back. “I’m still in touch with Gale. He can help me look for something.”

He spun it around to look at the back. It was a deep purple, with the only remarkable feature being a sort of fur around the neck and shoulders. He could almost imagine it hanging up in a shop.

You cleared your throat. “Put it on.”

“Hardly the best place to test it. The sun doesn’t exactly reach down here.” Still, he unclasped it and swung it over his shoulders.

It was light and breezy, allowing air to move through, but warm enough it kept away any chill - not very concerning for a vampire, but still a nice feature. It reached mid-thigh. He shifted around in it, testing its movement and fit. He bristled when he felt something brush against his arm.

He lifted up the edge of the cloak where he felt it, and his undead heart stopped all over again. There, messily embroidered on the lining in gold thread. Little Star. A poor imitation of embroidered stars surrounded it, forming a sort of faux night sky.

“I did that.” You clear your throat and scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes everywhere you looked. Every time you glanced back at him and his dumbfounded face, your cheeks heated up. “I know it’s not as good as yours, but, you know, I thought it was the best way to get a message across.”

His chest was full of emotion. He still had a hard time deciphering it all, even after so long of you carefully teasing them out. But through it all was one resounding question.

“Why?”

You finally made eye contact with him. You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this can’t have been easy to get your hands on. You could have sold it when I ran away, but you embroidered it, sought me out… Why? Let’s be honest, dear, we’re not exactly friends.”

“We’re not exactly at each other’s throats either.” It came out harsher than you meant. You took a breath to calm your nerves. “I know we didn’t really get along when we first met - hells, we still argued about everything under the sun with the slightest prompting, but I do care for you.”

His lips quick up slightly. “An unfortunate choice. I’m not exactly the easiest person to care for.”

“No.” You smile, soft and patient. It was hard to look at you now and connect you to the person who barged into his room moments ago. “But I want to. You’re worth the effort.”

—

So you think that we could work?

Here I thought I'd been the dumb one—what?

You're forgiving me for all I did wrong

You're unmuting the song

And, again, I belong to someone

No! You can drop the stupid smirk

Though by now I guess you've earned that

'Cause no matter how intensely I pout

Your stupid face will win out

And I guess it's about time I learned that

And though we go together like a Chanel Nº 5 and mace

At least it's not as dull as fitting like a glove

'Cause you're a nightmare that I've not been dreaming of

But I suppose that when push comes to shove

Fine!

I love your stupid face

You tugged Astarion through the city, releasing short apologies left and right to any early-risers you bumped into. He’d tried asking multiple times where in the hells you were taking him, but you never answered. You just shot him a bright smile over your shoulder and kept on running.

Before he knew it, you were at the docks. A light orange hue lined the edge of the ocean, signaling the sun’s appearance. He frowned. “You dragged me all the way out here to watch the sunrise?”

“Yes.” You squeezed his hand. Your eyes were wide and bright and filled with overwhelming glee. “You never got to see it last time you were here. But now you can!”

He scoffed, a grin teasing at his lips. “Darling, we could watch the sunrise from anywhere. We don’t need to be exactly here to do so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, no, but it’s more about the principle of the thing. You didn’t get to see that sunrise and say goodbye, but now you can.”

Red eyes scanned the horizon. Oranges and yellows flooded from the ocean-line, chasing away the dark blue of night. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful, but…

He swallowed, frowning out at the sea. He couldn’t look at your face as he asked, quietly, too afraid to actually put the words out there, “So this is goodbye?”

The edge of the star poked her head out. He’d enjoyed watching the sunrises and sunsets during your adventure. He would welcome her touch onto his skin every day, grateful for even just a brief moment to be able to feel her warmth again after 200 years. And every night he would mourn her loss, a seed of fear planted deep within that any sunset could be his last, before he would be contained to the shadows forever. He never got to savor the last one. The one time he wasn’t prepared to go gracefully into that night.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you whisper back. If you hear the shuddering breath he lets out, you don’t say anything. If you see the tears building at the corners of his eyes as he turns to look at you, you don’t point it out. “I can stay. With you. If you want.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.” But I wish I could. He wants nothing more than to be selfish. To take every single scrap you offer him and give nothing back.

You release his hand only to better tangle your fingers together. Your thumb runs along his palm. “You wouldn’t have to.”

“You’d be living in the shadows most of your life, even with this,” he lifts the edge of the cloak to make a point.

“Okay.”

“You wouldn’t be able to go on adventures. You wouldn’t be able to find someone else, have a family, live your life.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so willing to give up everything for me?”

You raise your free hand to his cheek. It’s haloed by the red-orange light of the sun. He hates the way he leans into it without a second’s hesitation.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’d stay because I want to be with you?”

He opens his mouth, shuts it again, and tries to find the words. Strained, he chokes out, “Yes.”

“My lovely little star, even without the cloak, I’d stay in the shadows with you for eons. Adventure would be empty without you by my side. There is no one else I could bear to put up with besides you.”

He takes a breath and closes his eyes. It’s hard for the words to sink in, but he urges them to. Staying with him would not be a burden. He is not a burden. He holds your hand to his cheek, pressing it tighter against his skin. By the time he opens his eyes again, the sun is halfway risen.

“I’m not good at… this. Whatever this is. I have no idea how to do anything more than what I had to do. I have no idea what will happen.”

You smile. “Now that sounds like an adventure.”

He chuckles. The knot in his heart loosens. When had you turned from an annoying thorn in his side to this? How long ago had you wormed your way into his soul? What would he do without you?

He feels like he’s just been thrown downstream - caught in the current and waiting for it to burn. He’s uncertain as he leans forward slightly, experimentally. You let him come to you; you wait patiently and smile at him encouragingly until he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The sun warms his skin as he lets go of the guilt holding him back. He’s a mess. He’s still working through his emotions with Cazador, trying to find footing amongst the spawn in the Underdark, trying to be good enough. And here you are saying he already is.

He catches your lips and allows himself to forget for the briefest moments that this is a terrible idea. How can he possibly think this is wrong when you sigh into his mouth and pull him closer? How can this possibly be wrong?

The reds, oranges, and yellows fade from the sky. Bright blue dominates the sky. And everything is okay.

---

Tag List:

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edges-of-night · 5 months ago

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Hello! With your comeback I had a grand time re-reading all your past imagines :> they're marvelous! Hope you don't mind me requesting - I had an idea of lotr characters with reader that is in adoration, love, and interest with their hair (and also them! but that's just predictable isn't it, how can you not love them). Even if it's dirty, reader would sometimes help take care of it, and her hands would just go to them on their own. Reader would also love to play with them, and marvel at texture, colour, lenght when they're clean. I had a few characters in mind (Eomer, Boromir, Faramir, Aragorn, Arwena, our 4 lovely hobbits) but I do know that's a lot of them. I am also happy with you choosing only few characters of your taste, or deciding on a completely different one! Quite honestly I'm happy about reading whatever you wish to write in this theme. Pretty please, but also no pressure! And have a great day/night, whenever you end up reading it :>

Thank you very much for your kind words! I know I said the same about the last request I posted, but hair prompts are an absolute weakness of mine haha! I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve written for your characters, nonnie ♡

(so many glorious L'Oréal style gifs to choose from! ↓)

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Rangers are not among the fairest creatures of Middle Earth, but you couldn’t care less – you are in love with Aragorn’s hair. When you’ve first voiced the thought, he was irritated, then amused. Now he softens whenever you go on and on about how beautifully his hair frames his face, how gorgeous he looks when it falls into his face as he’s lost in thought, humming some ancient Elven melody to himself. He may have pondered cutting it short before, but the thought is now discarded.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

You often find yourself playing with Arwen’s hair whenever you’re close. You have spoken to her about it before, but thankfully Arwen has no problem with you touching her legendary dark and smooth hair. In fact, she likes the intimacy and finds your fascination with it cute. Though she has always loved her long strands herself, she is now in a good mood to try out elaborate, beautiful new hairstyles before your visits to Rivendell to surprise you – it’s like a secret language the two of you are sharing.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir has never given his hair much thought; it needed to be practical and nothing more. Imagine his surprise when you offer to help him wash it after a long day of work, sweat, and dirt! He has much to learn in terms of hair care. But even if he was a little hesitant in the beginning, he enjoys your joint baths afterwards far too much! And you braiding his hair is just too romantic to miss. I figure Boromir would also be the kind of person to brag about how much you love his hair – perhaps not with the Elves, but all the more so with fellow Humans!

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Seeing Éomer at the royal banquet in Edoras has you starstruck: The usually so haggard and modest horse lord wears his hair down in gorgeous dark blond curls, accentuated by golden strands framing the face you have come to love already. Those strands are usually pinned out of his face for practicality during riding and fighting, but now you cannot help but stare – which at first might irritate him. He may not understand your love for his hair right away, but he cannot deny the warmth your compliments spread in his chest and would eventually find it romantic to take care of each other’s hair.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

You were enamoured with Faramir’s hair the moment you first saw him. His gorgeous waves make him look even dreamier than his kind eyes already do. When you first reach into his hair during a kiss, you blush and apologise – but Faramir loves the attention you give his waves and urges you to not hold back (in fact, he enjoys having his hair pulled). He would ask you about your opinions on which oils and waters to use in it and is in Seventh Heaven whenever you play with it during cuddles ♡

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo always makes sure his brown Hobbit curls look orderly and enjoys fancy oils, waters, and scents. He is genuinely happy about the presents you gift him to use in his hair. Your love for his curls doesn’t escape his attention, far from it. So, when your hands finally gravitate toward them as you read with Frodo, lost in thought and the legendary stories of your books, all he does is chuckle, letting you play with them until you self-consciously draw away.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Since he is a bit vain in general, Merry is very protective of his hair. That said, he does have trouble taking care of it sometimes. Luckily you’re here to help! You help him wash it and compliment the colour and texture, which he delights him. Perhaps he would serve you a trick by casually telling you he would cut it short today – but you know better: This Hobbit loves both his hair and your fascination with it far too much for that!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin wastes no thought on his hair: It gets stuck in branches, twisted in petty fights, and spilled by beer in the Green Dragon. Since he knows are you are “a hair expert”, he one day arrives at your door with a bunch of thistles stuck in his curls. Not only does he appreciate how well you take care of his hair, he loves how much you like it, too. He would kick his feet anytime you played with his curls and especially loves you ruffling them!

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

When you tell him how much you like his hair, Sam initially thinks you’re joking. After all, both the hair on his head and on his feet is usually dirty and sweaty from gardening. And besides, who has the time for hair care anyway? But Sam soon realises you’re serious, especially after you stroke and caress his blond curls when you’re lying in his arms. You love how they fall into his green eyes when he looks at you all sweet ♡

･ﾟ✧ Bonus: Galadriel.

Galadriel’s long, smooth, golden hair is the stuff of legends, which is why you were so surprised to hear you have been appointed her maid to take care of it. And Elves are so particular about hair, too! It is among your sacred duties to untie your Lady’s braids and brush her hair every night, shining in the lights of her beautiful Elvish rooms in Lórien. Sometimes, she would start humming and smiling and telling you how much she adored you taking care of her like this. Needless to say, she would eventually gift you a strand of her fabled hair ♡

#i could NOT skip Galadriel with this one haha!#lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #arwen x reader #boromir x reader #eomer x reader #faramir x reader #frodo x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #samwise x reader #galadriel x reader #* ask #* request #* fluffy

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therentyoupay · 6 months ago

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How would you write Elsa falling first? I absolutely adore your loser Jack pining after put together Elsa, but how would you reverse their roles?

i promise i promise i did not mean to write a one-shot for this. and i SWEAR it is ACTUALLY a one-shot. it is the OLD-SCHOOL definition of a one-shot, because i opened this ask and thought, aw, wouldn't it be cute if i just wrote a little tiny ficlet to illustrate an example of this scenario instead? and then out came 5,297 words. in one sitting. in ONE SHOT.

i would also like the record to show that i LOVED this challenge, i love trying out new scenarios or styles that subvert all the habits i've gotten myself into over the past decade or so!! thank you for this ask!! and, also, let the record show, that even as i wrote a full 5k+ of fic leading up to a "she falls first, he falls harder" scenario, i still couldn't quite hit the mark... in this case, i think it's open to interpretation as to whether she falls first, or they fall at the same time. 🤣 ENJOY. p.s. LOSER JACK?? LMAO WHAT IS THIS

“Watch your head—“

She ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the churning of what appeared to be a factory conveyor belt gone awry. A tiny creature smaller than even a Norwegian Mountain Troll cried out in dismay as a cascade of nutcrackers fell into a sorting bin meant for what appeared to be that latest handheld gaming device—the Swap, or something.

Elsa grinned at the chaos surrounding her—little elves scolding one another, scurrying about—and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to see the Pooka—Bunnymund—grinning in delight at her delight.

(I told you, his eyes seemed to say, as he gestured for her to continue ahead of him through the vast workshop chamber toward the office tucked away in the back. You wouldn’t regret it, if you came with me.)

Without giving him the satisfaction—yet—Elsa merely took in all the productivity around them, and let her gaze sparkle with the Wonder she knew was in them; dryly, she marveled, “It’s July.”

“Christmas doesn’t take holidays, mate,” Bunny winked. “Especially not here.”

Elsa stuck her courage to the sticking place as they approached the office—the door was slightly ajar. No matter what happens, Elsa inhaled and exhaled; you can always go back to Ahtohallan, to Antarctica.

You don’t have to stay here—with them.

Strengthened by this truth, Elsa squared her shoulders and softened her face into something curious and approachable as Bunny opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“OI.” Bunny stepped through the office, holding the door wide, which allowed Elsa to wait at the threshold—suspended between two worlds, two moments, two paths… perhaps two different lives.

“WHAT—Bunny, how many times I say, KNOCK, this program, it is DELICATE—“

“I got a delivery,” Bunny interrupted, and his whole body flinched at the look she gave him, “Er. I mean. I got someone here who you might wanna meet.”

And if Elsa had known then what she knew now, she would have realized in that moment (when North laid eyes on her that July evening in the middle of his work on the newest rollout of the popular role-playing video game—the Sums, or something) that, truly, the future was always in motion, her path already treaded, and—despite all her beliefs, her past, her heartbroken memories—her heart was already preparing to have two homes.

Elsa had visited plenty of warm—tropical, arid, sweltering—and chaotic, sprawling places in her travels, but none quite compared to the utter bustle of the Workshop.

Over the next three weeks of her stay, Elsa grew accustomed to the factory’s noises, to the bickering between the elves and their strange adoration for her, to the yeti’s curious questions about her years at the south pole. They asked relentless questions about the melting ice caps, the fierce predators, and the tiny human-made stations; she answered them as best she could, having wandered Antarctica for only half a decade before Bunnymund happened to find her at the tip of Cape Adare. When she tried to explain that she was much more familiar with the Arctic, they listened politely, but they were clearly much less interested in land so close to home. They also had the strangest custom of bringing her icicles when they returned from their perimeter patrols; she was growing quite a large collection of them in the guest room in the Main House.

The others—called Guardians, she learned—flitted in and out of this headquarters at seemingly all times of day.

Sandy was shocked and delighted to see her again; they’d run into each other just once during the late 1940s, and only when Elsa was passing through a city—Barcelona, if Memory served—to familiarize herself with the changing of the times as quickly as possible.

Sandy made no delay in giving her a much more insightful tour of the Workshop than North’s exuberant one had been, which had focused rather on not-so-subtle hints at how wonderful a life it was to be a Guardian, and such wonderful news it was to hear that Elsa was intrigued by Bunnymund’s offer to meet them, and so wonderful that Elsa had been spending all these years doing all that she could to explore the wonders of the world.

(North was lovely, and welcoming, and fierce—and so boisterous!

And not subtle at all.)

After a few days of visiting the Workshop, Elsa grew comfortable enough to truly relax as she roamed its halls, visited the various stages of production, and occasionally caught up with Bunny as he flitted in and out of the Shop (“Easter is on Holiday!” he’d said, with another wink). She dined with North and his team of merry workers, often with Bunny, who, she learned, was rather too fond of eggnog, and sometimes with Sandy as well.

After only a few hours into Sandy’s first visit, Elsa allowed herself to laugh with her whole chest at the ridiculous antics, the absurdity of it all, the bickering among Sandy, and North, and Bunny—and allowed herself to be endeared by the clear respect they held for one another, by the lightness in the air, the distinct sensation of family. That night, Elsa didn’t immediately retreat to her room after dinner, as she normally would have.

The Memories were not so painful, here.

And their stories!

They regaled her each night over (and after) dessert—about this horrid creature named Pitch Black, about the Moon, about the Battle of Burgess—they all sounded like fairytales to Elsa, even if she, herself, had practically been living in one for nearly two hundred odd years.

The others told her of two other coalition members who fought beside them—both of whom were exceptionally busy, and who would not be journeying to the North Pole again until it was time to celebrate the Equinox.

Elsa was curious about Toothiana—and anxious, about the Memories she protected—and especially curious about the Guardian named Jack…

Frost.

She did not shy away from asking more about him—Elsa had far too little time to worry about such silly fears like embarrassment; immortality was funny like that—and her curiosity grew with each tale she heard. The Guardians spoke of Jack with a mix of fondness and exasperation—his mischievous nature, his loyalty, how bloody annoying he is, I tell ya, that’s what I say.

Elsa could not help but laugh at Bunny’s pervasive frustration with his teammate; his respect for Jack was clear, even if his patience was not.

Still… she had been wandering the world for over 200 years, and in all that time, she had never encountered any others like her, and certainly not anyone especially like her.

The thought of meeting someone who might understand, who might have powers like hers, stirred something deep within her— something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She caught Bunny staring at her in the midst of a reverie by the fire during an after-dinner coffee, so she crisply declared, “Don’t say it.”

“What’s that, Ice-pop? Sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over all of that Hope in your heart.”

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

Later that evening, as she stood by one of the desperately-tall windows in the corridor leading to her guest quarters—watching the snowflakes drift lazily from the sky—Elsa couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually meet him.

The thought of Jack—a potential ally? a friend? a teammate?—occupied her mind more and more as the days passed, and with each story the Guardians told, Elsa found herself hoping that this Jack Frost—a teacher? a guide? a confidant?—would be looking forward to meeting her, too.

Sometimes, late at night, she would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who understood her powers as deeply as she did. She imagined his face, always in motion, always just out of reach, and felt a strange sense of—Hope? Elsa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Anticipation? Perhaps.

Fear?

In these quiet moments, she found her spirit reaching out, as if she could almost call to him—but of course, he was completely out of reach, never having met her before, and likely, perhaps, not even knowing that she existed until only recently... But her heart would quicken at the idea of meeting this person like her, of seeing his eyes—what color?—filled with the same understanding, the same longing for connection that she felt.

What would he think of her? Would he see the strength she had built over centuries? Or would he only see the loneliness that still clung to her, despite all her efforts to cast it aside?

The questions swirled in her mind, mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration that made her feel both alive and vulnerable.

She could almost hear the laughter they might share, the way their powers could dance together in the air, creating something beautiful, something new.

And in those moments, she couldn’t help but smile, imagining a world where she wasn’t alone, where someone else could stand beside her in the snow, not as an adversary—

But as an equal.

“And did he wield ice magic as a human, as well?” Elsa pressed over after-dinner coffee in the drawing room, leaning forward in her chair near the fireplace. North’s giant hands were absurdly large compared to his delicate teacup. “Before he became a Guardian?”

“As a matter of fact—no. The power came later, AFTER Turning.”

Elsa considered his words carefully. Something about his expression seemed rather cagey; centuries of reading strangers’ faces had only honed her political prowess, which had been born out of survival as much as any sense of duty.

“North, tell me: why do you want me to join the Guardians?”

“I—ah! ELSA—

“Because ya’d be mighty good at it!” Bunny blurted, calling over from his newspaper reading on the other side of the drawing room, to North’s indignant sputtering, “if you wisened up and stopped hiding all Hope and Wonder!” And then, as an afterthought, “And it’ll keep Jack humble, I reckon!”

“ASTER!” North scolded fiercely, but he set the tiniest teacup down with the tiniest clink and placed the saucer on the coffee table with such deliberate care, even in his fit of anger, that Elsa couldn’t hold back a small, genuine smile.

“Dont’cha worry, Ice-Pop,” Bunny told her later, as they stood in the wide, cold corridor leading into the main entry chamber of the Workshop, where Bunny preferred to open his portals. Elsa quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled. “We’re not here to actually convince ya. We just want you to see that there’s another option. This Choice… well. Guardians gotta make it for themselves.”

She still had too many questions. How is it that I had never crossed paths with any of you but Sandy, before?

How is it that I have managed to avoid Pitch for all these years?

Why me? What can I really offer—when you already have someone who can already do what I do?

“You still have time before you have to decide. And you need to meet the rest, anyway. Just think about it, is all,” he said, all his wisdom seeping into the very air around them. He cracked open a portal and, a moment later, he was gone.

“Oh!” said an utterly beautiful creature, her wings fluttering with so much excitement and delight that she was practically vibrating. “You must be Elsa!”

Elsa and Toothiana took to one another with surprising ease; time had steadied Elsa’s heart, had taught her the patience and endurance and the strength of a glacier; time had energized Toothiana, who took charge of the world with her vast army and a wide smile. But it had been so long since Elsa had even felt anything remotely similar to the feel of holding onto her sister—and Toothiana understood, completely.

Toothiana shared stories of her own—a whirlwind of adventures collecting memories and moments, each one a treasure she held dear.

(Toothiana's eyes softened as she took Elsa's hands in her own, her understanding gentle yet firm. "I know what it’s like to carry the weight of Memories, Elsa," Toothiana whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "But here, with us, you don’t have to carry them alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll help you find your way.”)

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her.

To Believe in them.

When the Guardians gathered around the fire—taking time, they said, to ensure that past mistakes were never repeated, that they carved out time for themselves the way they never used to—the conversation inevitably turned to their adventures, to answering Elsa's questions. Somehow, Jack always seemed to be at the center of their tales.

She was rather alarmed to realize the extent to which she had begun to wait for these moments, eager to hear more about Jack, piecing together an image of him in her mind that was as elusive as snowflakes on the wind. Why on earth does not a single Guardian commission a portrait, for goodness’ sake? But Elsa dared not ask for a Memory; apparently, there were still some things left worth being too embarrassed to ask for, after all.

So she contented herself with the way Sandy would add details to the story that the others had forgotten, conjuring up glowing scenes of Jack’s playful antics in vague, golden sand—flurries of snowflakes, intricate frost patterns on windows, and the gleeful laughter of children echoing through the air.

She would find all their efforts rather suspicious… if they weren’t all being so utterly obvious about their Hopes.

Thus, one evening, as they were all gathered around the fire, Elsa couldn’t help but ask, “How did Jack become a Guardian?”

Bunny’s keen eye sharpened upon her cheek; she withstood the scrutiny, allowing him no further entry to her mind, as he added, “Jack was chosen by the Moon, like the rest of us.”

“But Jack…” Toothiana’s voice was soft and somber and unusually serious; the atmosphere in the room shifted, its axis tilting ever so slightly. “He had a harder time accepting it. At first! That is.”

“Took him a while to figure out, is all,” Bunny held his boomerang up to the light, checking the polish. “He came around, eventually.”

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

Sandy floated closer, his golden sand forming an image of a young boy standing alone in the snow, his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. The image flickered, and the boy’s expression shifted to one of determination and hope.

“Not easy for Jack, his Turning was,” North said, his voice softening. “Not easy for any of us… But Jack had no Memories of his past, no knowledge why he was Chosen. It wasn’t until centuries after his Turning that he found his center.”

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

“FUN!” North boomed, smiling, and sending teacups clattering everywhere. Elsa clutched her saucer with both hands. “But not just ANY fun—bringing joy and wonder to children, making them BELIEVE in magic and in themselves. THAT is Jack’s true power!”

Elsa considered this as Bunny complained about dropping his boomerang polish and spilling it all over the carpet. Toothiana was laughing at him and offering to help in equal turns, as Elsa’s mind turned over the implications of centers—and Jack’s in particular. She had spent so long searching for her own purpose, her own… center? Do I have one? As well? Is that why Bunny had found her, out alone at the edge of the iceberg, at the exact moment when she had let it all go, had accepted that she may never find her purpose, that perhaps she did not have one—was that the moment that they had been waiting for?

And now, here in this team, Elsa might soon meet someone who had also once struggled with the same questions, who had found his answers in the most unexpected ways… It makes me, dare I say it… Wonder...

She glanced at the Guardians, each of them so sure of their place, their role in the world, with all their quirks and their trust and their happiness. They had found their centers, their reasons for being. And Jack—this mysterious figure who was off wreaking havoc in some apparently historic winter season in New England—had somehow found the same. She wanted to know more about this spirit who had lived in solitude for so long, who had found a family among these remarkable beings, and who wielded the same icy power she did, yet in a way so different from her own—or, at least, so they thought. Nobody could quite seem to explain to her the exact mechanics of it all.

The more she heard about him, the more she felt a growing need to meet him. She caught herself imagining what their first meeting might be like—whether he would be as mischievous as they said, or if they would take a liking to one another right away, bonded by their similar powers, their similar stories… Perhaps he might help her make sense of… all this? Maybe there was something in him that could help her understand herself better. Maybe he could be… another friend? An ally. A partner. Elsa did not care about the name; what mattered was only that they could learn from each other.

But still. She could not quite deny that her excitement at the chance of meeting him was, perhaps, a bit more complicated than all that.

“I still don't understand. You already have someone whose powers are like mine,” Elsa pointed out reasonably, just when the others had started to turn the conversation to simpler matters. “How could I possibly contribute?”

Bunny barked with laughter from the other side of the circle, over the recipe book he was now reading, preparing for their grand dinner to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox. Sandy giggled in golden, sparkling shimmers. North’s laughter was as reassuring as it was alarming.

“ELSIE, my dear,” North boomed as he strode closer to the wing-backed chairs that Toothiana and Elsa were hoarding by the fire, just under the wide window of the central tower, which overlooked the northern tundra. “It is not about powers alone! It is CENTERS.”

“And besides!” Bunny called out over his recipe book, adjusting his reading glasses over the bridge of his twitching nose. She could feel his cheekiness from the other side of the room, but Elsa was particularly amused by the way Toothiana’s whole body tensed up in preparation for Bunny’s antics. “You’re the better deal on both fronts, anyway!”

Toothiana scolded him for the next five minutes but hardly put any real fire into it, and North’s voice echoed throughout the study (“Now, now, Bunny—Jack has only been with us for two years now—and he has done SPLENDID job—“), and Sandy had already fallen asleep in his preferred winged-back chair by the fire, lulled into a nap by the comforting sound of his fellow Guardians arguing over something utterly ridiculous.

Late that night, as Toothiana hastily prepared for departure and her return to her endless work, she caught Elsa by surprise.

“We’ll understand if you would rather return,” Toothiana was gracious, so considerate in her efforts to not step on painful Memories, to not push Elsa too hard or too fast, too soon. “We recognize that this choice, this Oath, is not for everyone. But we hope you’ll consider it.”

Elsa nodded, appreciating the understanding in Tooth's eyes, though she couldn’t quite find the words to express it. The kindness and patience offered—by all of them—made her feel both comforted and conflicted; this was a choice she had to make for herself, but knowing she wouldn’t be judged either way brought a small measure of peace.

Toothiana let out a knowing smile that Elsa didn’t quite understand.

Two days before the Autumnal Equinox, the North Pole was strangely quiet; all others were out and about and attending to their centers, preparing their final tasks before they would all meet for the celebration, here in North’s home.

She thus found herself wandering the hallways alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, thinking of the word home, and how it had changed for her over the years—first, her kingdom; then, her sister; then, the secrets that lay in the depths of Ahtohallan, and then nowhere at all.

What was home?

She paused in front of a large, intricately carved door she hadn’t noticed before. There was something inviting about it, something that called to her curiosity. Without thinking, she reached out and pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

The room was a gallery of sorts, filled with shelves upon shelves of intricate snow globes, each one containing a different scene—some of them cheerful, others serene, and a few that looked like they were mid-snowstorm. Elsa moved closer, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. Each snow globe was a memory—not one of Toothiana’s collections of course, but rather, a moving picture—a small clip of some film, captured in glass and suspended in time.

She reached out to touch one that was particularly beautiful—a snow globe depicting a small village blanketed in fresh snow, children playing and laughing as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could almost hear their laughter.

“Beautiful, no?” a voice said softly from behind her.

Elsa turned to see North standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

“They’re not Memories,” Elsa whispered, more to herself than to him. “They’re… Reminders.”

“Yes. They help with the Wonder, of course.”

Elsa couldn’t move her gaze away from the glass again. “Whose are they?”

North stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with genuine warmth, with joy. “They belong to all of us. The children, the Guardians… and a few others.”

He gestured to a shelf on the far wall, where a single snow globe sat, slightly larger than the others. It depicted a lone figure standing in the middle of a frozen lake, surrounded by a dense forest. Snowflakes danced around him, but there was a sadness to the scene, a loneliness that tugged at Elsa’s heart. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the glass.

“That one,” North said softly, “also belongs to Jack.”

Elsa’s breath caught. She had heard so much about him, yet she still knew so little. The thought of him, alone in this beautiful but desolate scene, stirred something deep within her.

Are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?

“Yes, he’s been through much,” North continued, his voice gentle, washing over Elsa’s rapidly-blinking thoughts, through the strange swell of sadness that swam through her chest. “But he IS strong, and has found his place among us. Still, there are parts of him that are… sometimes, difficult to reach. Things that… perhaps… someone may help… heal?”

Elsa side-eyed him, beneath her lashes. “You are growing less subtle each day, I fear.”

His boisterous laugh told her he wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Elsa, when few more centuries you have, you too shall learn when to drop SUBTLETY. No?”

Haven’t I already? But she humored him with a smile instead.

“Whatever you decide—we will support you, your Majesty.”

Elsa’s smile slipped, without her meaning to. Throat thick, she whispered, “No one has called me by that title for a very long time.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as North stepped closer to her, looking down at her—the way her father used to. The way her father might have, had he lived long enough to see her step into her own power, at last.

“I do not call you Majesty because you were Queen, or Snow Queen; I say because I remind you that what you have, and what you are, at your center, is FULL of that which makes living so majestic. It is my sincere wish that—“ and Elsa inhaled at the strange expression that passed his face, the soft mix of hope and resignation all at once— “You will choose the Oath with your full heart.”

Elsa wanted to thank him, but she didn’t want to lie; before she could settle on the perfect breath of diplomacy, North patted her shoulder in reassurance, and left the gallery, leaving Elsa with all the Reminders that were not hers, but insisted she be strong, anyway.

She gazed into the large snow globe, at the figure standing alone on the frozen lake in the deep forest, and Wondered, truly, for the first time, This was also my past…

Will I also find my future here, too?

The Equinox arrived, at last. Elsa had fashioned herself a dress for the occasion, and the excitement buzzing through the Workshop was palpable—everywhere she turned, there were smiles and knowing glances exchanged between the elves and the yetis, as if they all shared a secret that she was just on the cusp of understanding, but not quite privy to.

Elsa did not startle at Bunny’s sudden entrance behind her, but it was a near thing.

“Stop twitching,” Bunny muttered as he sidled up beside her, at the window, where she was watching the horizon and waiting for the other Guardians to arrive. When she glanced up at him, she found his nose twitching in nervous anticipation. “Don’t overthink it, Ice-pop. Jack’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Oh? No further jabs at your friendly foe?”

“Nah,” Bunny grinned. “Today, I’m on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

She considered pointing out that his nose was equally twitchy, but she let it slide.

Elsa understood.

And that understanding grew as some of the Guardians started to all trickle in at once; Toothiana sent wide glances about and around the room upon her arrival, and later, as she fussed with the elves’ itineraries, kept catching Bunny’s eye when they thought Elsa was not looking; Sandy checked his watch repeatedly after greeting them all with warm, sandy hugs; perhaps he was conscientious of the time… and yet… North’s laughter was too loud to be completely genuine. Elsa was beginning to understand the true purpose of tonight, swiftly and deeply; this night was no mere dinner, and no simple introduction. Tonight was an audition. An interview.

A trial.

At this point, Elsa didn’t even mind the inquisition; she just wanted it to start.

The storm outside had been raging for over an hour, and yet there was still no sign of Jack. The wind howled, whipping snow into frenzied swirls that danced and spun against the windows of North’s Workshop. The Guardians stood by the large bay window, watching the tempest with a mixture of awe and concern. Elsa had seen far fiercer storms before… but seeing this storm here, now…?

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

“Where do you suppose he is?” Toothiana murmured, her wings fluttering nervously as she peered out at the swirling snow. “When I got off the globe with him a few hours ago, he’d been in a good mood! Do you think he got distracted along the way?”

Sandy nodded, his golden sand forming an image of a snowflake, delicate and intricate, before it dispersed into the air. North stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the storm.

“Such a nuisance,” Bunny agreed, his ears twitching as he squinted into the whiteout. “But he’ll wear himself out soon enough. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Perhaps we might,” North rumbled, his voice filled with a deep, resonant certainty. “Jack may wish to make GRAND entrance—”

Elsa stood slightly apart from the others while they discussed, her eyes fixed on the tempest outside. The storm’s power called to something deep within her, something she recognized and understood. She had created countless storms like this, back in her darker days, when her emotions had been a force she couldn’t control. Here, she’d wanted to be a good guest, so it had been a month since she’d truly put her powers to proper use, out in the relative safety of the deep Antarctic deserts. But this…

There was a wildness to it, a reckless abandon. This storm wasn’t about emotion. It was—it’s—

He’s playing!

Just as the words passed through her mind, a voice suddenly piped up behind them, casual and completely out of place in the loud, bustling, tense atmosphere.

“What are y’all looking at?”

The Guardians turned as one, startled by the unexpected intrusion. There, leaning against a large shepherd’s crook, was someone who could be none other than Jack Frost—his expression one of casual amusement as he took in the scene before him. He had somehow appeared without a sound.

The room, which had been brimming with anticipation, fell into a moment of stunned silence, then burst back into noise and life in the very next breath.

Elsa blinked, her heart still racing from the intensity of the storm and the weight of her expectations. But now, seeing Jack standing there, looking so nonchalant and distant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel disappointed. He was lean, with his staff slung over his shoulder, and there was an air of mischief about him, tempered by something darker, something cautious.

North was the first to fully recover, letting out a booming laugh that overpowered the other surprised voices in the room. “Jack, you never fail to surprise us! We were just admiring your WORK outside, no?”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, that? Yeah, just setting the mood.”

Bunny rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace, Frostbite. You know that?”

Jack shrugged, his grin widening. “Just doing my job.”

Elsa felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the easy banter between Jack and the other Guardians. She realized, perhaps too late, that she had built up this moment in her mind, imagining a dramatic, powerful entrance that would define their first meeting. Instead, she was faced with the reality of Jack Frost: a mischievous, irreverent spirit who seemed to take very little seriously, including the storm he had unleashed.

It was at that moment—in her quiet evaluation, her unexplained disappointment, her curious, lingering hope—that Jack caught her gaze.

Blue.

The playful expression slipped away, just for a flash; his blue eyes met hers, and she saw something there amidst the lingering laughter—something raw and guarded, something that told her that, like her, he was grappling with his own mixed expectations.

For a fleeting moment, Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the unexpected warmth that spread through her, as if she’d been touched by a sudden gust of spring wind.

“Jack, Jack, my boy, come—meet Elsa! Our dear Elsa—this is Jack, our newest Guardian.”

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jack hesitated—and then he stepped forward, approaching them at the window; Elsa stood patiently at Bunny’s side, watching Jack’s tousled white hair catch the light of the whiteout outside, watching as his blue eyes deliberately scanned the decorations around the room.

Jack Frost… ?

Elsa waited, patient as a glacier as Jack’s smirking gaze flickered over the gathered Guardians as he reached them, and he saluted North with a deliberately careless air. His smirking gaze lingered on each of them before finally landing on hers.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but deliberately casual. “New Guardian, right? They’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

There was a hint of something sharp in his voice, and Elsa felt a pang of anxiety, which she pushed down; Bunny was covering his muttering face with his hand, and Toothiana was rolling her eyes to the ceiling in dismay—or perhaps prayer. Elsa quickly assessed the crisp stare and the hard line of his jaw; she’d been hoping for warmth, for understanding, but what she found in Jack’s gaze was something closer to suspicion.

Keeping her gaze on his, trying to ease the tension she could feel coiling between them, she softly corrected, “I’m not a Guardian.”

At least, not yet…

Or so I…

Elsa felt her chin raise; old habits falling back into place; perfect and pretty and polite, all smooth ice underneath; an effective mask for a Queen.

“I’m here on an invitation,” she said softly, and knew that he would not see the ice daggers in her eyes; not yet, although she was certain he was looking for them. “I’m very grateful to North and all of you for hosting me in honor of this autumnal celebration.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That is suspicion there, isn’t it? And guardedness… He was trying hard to hide something behind a facade of coolness—some debonair indifference. Elsa recognized the act immediately but played along because there was something else there, too, something that made her heart ache with a familiar loneliness. I’m an ally, she tried to impress upon him through nothing more than the thought. Enough of this!

I could be a friend!

But then, Toothiana swooped in, her wings fluttering with a cheerful energy that instantly distracted them—if not immediately lifting the mood.

“Well! Isn’t this just the perfect way to spend the Equinox?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, drawing their attention away from one another; Elsa was grateful for Toothiana’s quick thinking, her impressive tact. “Jack, I’m sure you’re energized and starving for a glass of eggnog after all that storm-making. Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Uh, did Bunny make it?”

“What’s it to ya, you little twerp?” Bunny shot back, narrowing his eyes with mock suspicion.

Jack grinned, the tension easing slightly as he fell into what must have been familiar banter. “Just making sure it’s safe, is all. Wouldn’t want our guest of honor to get sick on her first night here.”

“Actually, she’s been here for over a month now—“

Elsa watched the exchange (Jack was rolling his eyes) with a mixture of amusement and relief and… unease. (Toothiana’s interruption had indeed worked wonders, shifting the focus away from the awkwardness of their initial encounter and giving everyone, including herself, a chance to breathe.)

(And yet… the warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill still clinging to her thoughts.)

As they all moved toward the dining room, Elsa fell in step beside Toothiana, grateful for the other Guardians’ subtle (for once!) alliance and support. She marveled at how, even two centuries since her last political summit, Elsa still remembered every step of walking into a political negotiation; Elsa knew how to navigate delicate situations, how to read the subtlest shifts in tone, how to win.

Elsa had always been a fine Reader of the Room; centuries of invisibility had only strengthened her skills.

And so the Trial begins…

This first impression was a test—one she intended to pass.

And although Jack started to relax once they were all seated and well into the evening—his guarded expression giving way to something more genuine as he bantered with Bunny and teased North about his over-the-top decorations—the knots in Elsa’s stomach remained.

How could she make him see that she wasn’t here to replace him—but to find her own place among them?

The Guardians fell into their usual rhythm as they ate and laughed together, the conversation flowing (mostly) easily between them. Elsa, too, had found her own rhythm with the Guardians during her month-long stay, understanding certain inside jokes and the fascinating nuances of their personalities. But even as she joined in their laughter, the tension between her and Jack was palpable, thicker than the winter storm raging outside.

She observed how Jack's eyes flicked between her and the other Guardians, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he noted instances of the easy familiarity she had developed with them over the previous weeks. He joked along with everyone else, but there was a sharpness to his tone, occasionally—and it seemed that all the other Guardians could clearly tell, even if they were choosing to ignore it with varying degrees of patience… and understanding.

Elsa could feel him measuring every word she said, every laugh she shared with the others. It wasn’t just that she was new or unfamiliar—it was that she had quickly become a part of something that Jack had spent years, perhaps centuries, building with them.

All of the Guardians’ assurances and encouragement over the past month had not hinted at the true nature of their concern; Elsa realized quite quickly that this rift wasn’t something that could be resolved with pleasantries or polite conversation.

Winning his trust wouldn’t come easily—it would demand more than just time; it would require something deeper.

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their quarters or gone out for their evenings of work, Elsa found herself wandering the halls of North’s Workshop, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions, as was her wont.

The evening had not exactly gone to plan, but she supposed it could have been worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack still viewed her as a threat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d need to discuss it with Toothiana tomorrow. Perhaps they might lend me a snow globe?

As she rounded a corner, headed toward the snow globe Reminder gallery, she nearly collided with Jack himself—who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was leaning casually against the wall, his staff resting on his shoulder, but there was a tension in his posture that belied his relaxed demeanor.

He’d been waiting for her.

“Jack,” she said, startled but keeping her voice steady; once more, familiar, old-fashioned patterns of politeness resurfaced in her moment of uncertainty. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Could say the same about you. Can’t sleep?”

Elsa hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Just... thinking. It’s been a lot to take in.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “You know, everyone seems pretty excited about you joining us. North, Bunny, even Tooth—they all think you’d be a great addition.”

She could hear the ‘but’ hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy between them; the way addition sounded like replacement.

Elsa squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. There was an intensity in his eyes, a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly attributed it to the cold. “Jack, I’m not here to replace you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear. For a moment, Jack’s expression flickered, something vulnerable and upset flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Who said anything about that?”

“No one—listen to me, I know you’re worried,” Elsa continued, refusing to let him deflect. “But you have no need to be. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here because…” Why am I here? “I was invited. I am simply getting to know you all better. I’ve been alone for some time.”

“Spare me the politicking,” Jack huffed, which, indeed, Elsa did take offense to. Especially since she genuinely had not been trying to be diplomatic; just careful.

Perhaps he didn’t believe her story… about being alone?

The idea was more painful than she expected.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly, holding Jack’s gaze. “I’m not here to play games, Jack. I’m just looking for where I might belong—that is all.”

“Will you take the Oath, then? What’s your center?”

Elsa couldn’t explain it, but this struck her as an absurdly personal question. Still. She could recognize a caged animal when she saw one. So, Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question press down on her. The idea of the Oath, of finding her center, had been something she had pondered endlessly since she’d learned of its existence—perhaps since her arrival, if she was being honest. But to be confronted with it so directly by Jack, someone who still seemed to see her as a rival, made it all the more daunting.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been... trying to understand what it would mean for me to take the Oath, to become a Guardian.” She willed him to understand, at last. “It’s not something I want to rush into without being certain.”

Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her, his blue eyes sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer there—a recognition, perhaps, of the honesty in her words. “And your center?” he pressed. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

Elsa hesitated again, her thoughts swirling. A long time ago, she had known who she was, what she was meant to do. She’d thought so.

But after everything she had been through, all the loss, the isolation, and the rediscovery, she wasn’t sure if her center was what it once had been.

“Perhaps I might have, once,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now... Regardless of whether or not I join you, I’d like to think that there is something at the core of why I am still here.”

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

Jack tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something told her that she finally got through to him, just a little. Elsa felt herself feeling sympathy for him; even after becoming a Guardian, he was still filled with such…

Fear.

Doubt.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. For a brief, startling moment, she wondered what it would be like to stand by his side, to take the Oath together—as allies, as... something more?

She brushed the thought aside, but the idea lingered, persistent.

Then, finally, he let out a small, almost reluctant sigh. “It’s not easy, you know. Being a Guardian. Finding your center. It’s... it’s not something you just, like, stumble upon.”

“I understand,” Elsa said, her tone sincere. “But if there’s a chance that this is where I’m meant to be—then I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not interested in taking that away from you. You—you haven’t even seen what I can do yet! We don’t even know how much overlap we’d find in our powers, anyway!”

“You impressed Bunny in Antartica,” he practically accused. “That’s enough to say something, isn’t it?”

Elsa was trying her very best to remain steady and calm. “And what about you? What did it take for you to find your center?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “So they didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

She gaped at him. Honestly!

Elsa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met Jack's gaze. "Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not here to steal anything from you—certainly not your place among the Guardians. I haven’t even decided if—I don’t know if—“

“I already know you’re gonna join us,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then, with a passion she hadn’t expected, he replied, “Because there’s nothing better. There’s nothing like it. It’s everything.”

Elsa was stunned by the raw intensity of his words, the conviction in his voice. She could see it in his eyes—this was more than just a responsibility, more than just a role for him. It was his purpose, his identity—his life, or whatever this agelessness was. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

She felt her heart skip a beat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her—curiosity, admiration, and something else, something unfamiliar. Her pulse quickened.

Jack seemed to realize the weight of his words, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wait. I... I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he said, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “I guess I’ve been... on edge, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Still shocked by how deeply his declaration affected her, how his passion stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, Elsa softened at his apology, nodding slightly. “I… understand. And I accept your apology. I appreciate… you saying that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come home and see someone new in the middle of it all.”

Elsa thought she heard him laugh under his breath, mouthing the word Home—

Jack nodded, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah... it is. Anyway. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Elsa watched him start to turn away, a sudden sense of urgency bubbling up inside her. “Jack, wait—”

He paused, glancing back at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They were so wide, when they weren’t glaring!

“Shouldn’t we start over?” she asked, her voice gentler, almost tentative in her rush. She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Elsa. I happen to wield ice magic. E. Aster Bunnymund found me on an iceberg a few weeks ago as I was in the middle of creating a particularly notable blizzard, and he invited me to meet his friends, whom he loves and respects very much.”

Jack looked at her hand, then back at her face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawled over his face.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack floated closer, and Elsa held steady—stories or no stories, she had not been prepared to see him fly! “I’m Jack. I also happen to ‘wield’ ice and frost magic. Bunny did not find me on an iceberg, but I’m pretty sure he’d love to stick me in one. Nice to meet you, Elsa, who promises not to steal my spot on the A-team. Welcome to the madness,” and he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

The moment their hands touched, a strange, electric current seemed to pass between them, and Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat.

Oh—

He’s—he’s rather handsome, she realized with a start.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something she could not, would not name.

Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rougher than before. “Yeah... maybe we should—”

They let go of each other’s hands, but the sensation of his touch lingered, warm and unsettling. Elsa felt a flush creep up her cheeks, unsure of what to make of the emotions swirling inside her.

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Elsa standing alone in the soft glow of the snow globe gallery. She watched him go, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in her chest. The conversation had been difficult, but it had also been a step forward—a tentative, fragile step toward something more. Right?

As she turned back to her quarters, Elsa found herself tracing the line of his smirk in her mind, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyes—after weeks of wondering about what he might look like, might be like, she finally had the vision, the Memory of his face.

She rushed with the ornate door handle of her guest room, eager to be inside her room, alone, in the peace and quiet, and finally process the events of the evening, to reflect on all that she'd learned, she'd accomplished, she'd proved.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of so many careful decisions in so short a time, Elsa closed the door behind her with a deep sigh. Exhausted, yes, but also satisfied. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the back of the door and allowed herself a small, tentatively victorious grin, content in the knowledge that when she drifted off to sleep that night, the echoes of their meeting, their tentative truce would fill her mind; this moment gave her, indeed, a sense of Hope that she hadn’t felt in years...

But, in her mind, the Memory that lingered most vividly, as she tossed and turned—was his face.

ao3 ✨

#08192024 update #fixed some typos!!! some missing italics representing thoughts which i think tumblr ate!!!#jelsa #sanfangirl-cynicalromantic #I LOVE YOU LADY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPER THOUGHTFUL ASKS #therentyoupay two homes #therentyoupay fic #therentyoupay fic prompts #therentyoupay ask #ngl it's also so good for me to just write one-offs and ficlets and prompts every once in a while!!#A PALLTETTE CLEANSERRR #also spoiler alert if jack is not pining then ELSA IS THE ONE PINING LMAO

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bittrlys · 6 months ago

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The Dragon Prince season 6 is like watching people write themselves into a corner in real time. Exciting! Massive spoilers ahead, of course.

THE GOOD

Opening on Aaravos crying was a very strong choice, this is the actual 'Mystery of Aaravos' type content I've been waiting for

Terry picking up Viren while they're excited about him being alive is very cute

As ever, Terry being extremely ride or die is 👍

Terry taking care of Claudia was very sweet; Terry cutting Claudia's hair and Claudia's new haircut in general. Cute.

Viren and Claudia on the beach, "No parent wants their child to suffer for them." Oof.

In general, I was quite happy with everything Viren, Claudia, and even Soren, and I actually wrote a note of "i hate soren" at the start because I thought we were gearing up for another season of him just being a bad joke machine with no real character or feelings to speak of. But then they gave him, like, actual pathos! They let him interact with people in a way that feels human! They let him be resentful and complicated! Wow! Magefam is so back baby!

Viren trying to reconcile with Soren and be a better example for Claudia really got to me. His final sacrifice (OMG CRIMINAL BY FIONA APPLE JUST CAME ON SHUFFLE.......WHAT I NEED IS A GOOD DEFENSE CUS I'M FEELING LIKE A CRIMINAL.......AND I NEED TO BE REDEEMED TO THE ONE I'VE SINNED AGAINST.....) is tied so strongly to his children and that feels like a natural place to leave his character. Now, I've been saying forever that he was going to get a redemption via death, and figured Aaravos would be the one pulling the trigger, so none of that surprised me, but I thought the actual execution was generally good. I do have some more negative thoughts but I'll save those for later.

Viren is very good at justifying himself, and I like that you see him falling back into that, at times struggling with it, at times not even catching himself doing it. It feels very real. At the same time, I don't think he's ever seen himself as a hero, so it was interesting to let him go out on such a heroic note.

Viren's kind of abuse-coded (not actually abusive, IMO, but I understand if this makes people uncomfortable in a similar way) act of forcing Lissa to cry into the vial is interesting. It echoes him taking Sarai's last breath.

Him writing out his whole confession on this subject and then burning it because he realized it was only going to do him good was also very nice.

Though I wish Claudia had stuck by her 'I'm going solo' guns a little longer, I still think there's something to how she is so incapable of being alone, of thinking for herself, and desperately seeks direction. She is literally just like her dad, and it makes them both easy targets for Aaravos.

Like, Viren being such a force that Claudia easily followed him, then Claudia being such a force that Soren and Terry both easily followed her, and Aaravos being a supreme force Viren and Claudia both easily follow because at heart, they're more followers than leaders despite the force of their personalities and ambitions -- it's interesting.

Aaravos using Sol Regem to casually destroy a kingdom and kill Viren just as a small step in his plan is pretty fun. We love a grandiose villain!

Looking forward to Claudia and Aaravos. She's in some ways even more unequipped than Viren to handle Aaravos's manipulations, but at the same time, she's a lot more unpredictable than Viren. If this leads up to a confrontation between them, I think that could be really cool.

Aaravos tragic backstory with deleted child was really not on my bingo card at all -- I never thought 'noble revenge' would be his motivation. I like how this parallels him to Viren.

Aaravos crying enough to fill a sea is great imagery

The lore of the startouch elves being actual stars that descend is SO COOL. This is like, the first bit of worldbuilding in this show that's actually seriously impressed me. I love it.

Actual lore as to why humans don't have magic. Well. Not entirely. But it's better than what we had.

I liked Amaya and Janai's wedding looks. Cute.

Janai like Ehe I'll bring out my armies after I get married 😜 is funny. She isn't a very good queen but she is the moment! The gossip blogs would love her.

Ezran eating shit and not having his """diplomacy""" work out. LMAO.

SOL REGEM DOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

Kinda getting a y'know vibe from Soren and Corvus. I wouldn't mind that. I like that Corvus feels a little more tolerant of Soren than everyone else. It's funny Soren is like finally I'm away from my shit family but his new friends don't seem to care about him at all. Go and be totally free of all this, dude, or get a boyfriend.

Runaan back just when I was starting to think this show really hates gay males.

Rayla correcting her assumption about the sex of the diary's author was cute with the voice over changing. (cont...)

THE BAD

(... cont.) Did unfortunately then make it feel like "Had to be a woman because the author will be pining for a man."

Why is Zym STILL just a dog. Bro. It's like if all through Avatar you had to be aware Appa was going to be king someday. STOP BARKING.

Waiting for the whole cast to become vegetarians and somehow I suspect that will not be happening

When Claudia is listing the spell ingredients she could harvest from that cat thing I was just desperate to have Terry go, "Well, some of those could be ethically harvested, right?"

I find prophecies fairly corny as a writing tool and I get why they're going there -- predicted futures are the source of the anti-human oppression -- but still, I sighed.

Luna Tenebris putting a collar on her pet feels like, weird, right? Right? Right? She's not human and dragons otherwise seem so Respect all magical creatures. (Allegedly.) What is the uneven treatment of animals in this universe.

Naming your episode Red Wedding and I don't see a bloodbath ... oh, come on.

That ramble about ships from Caleb. Shudder.

Jeez, who is Rayla going to save? Her uncle who is an actual character or her backstory parents who are obviously happy and at peace? God forbid one of our main heroes has an actual hard choice to make.

Related: Caleb's 5 second rehab from dark magic.

Making his inner truth being about one other person is ... well ....

Cutting from Viren's rapidly cooling corpse to Lujanne receiving a sensual back massage was certainly a Choice.

Viren missing his wife THIS MUCH when he's barely mentioned her up to now was a little weird. I honestly think they saw the homoerotic interpretations of the very intense dynamics he had with Harrow and Aaravos and have been steadily backpedalling from that. Don't get me wrong, I can believe he loved her and he misses her, but the degree of it feels totally unearned.

I get children's media will have mascots for the children, normally I don't mind them, but dear god this show is hitting critical mass on annoying sidekicks (Zym counts as a very big one and he's already nigh unbearable.)

THE UGLY

I can imagine that the descendants of the human children Leola granted magic to are now able to do magic naturally and this could be the lore behind either Caleb or Ezran's abilities. I actually don't mind this as finally being in-universe explanation for this disparity that isn't just 'they want it more' or whatever, but it doesn't help this show's "Better People Are Born Better" messaging. Now, in that vein ...

King Ezran is a KING. Have we mentioned this? He's a king. He's divinely ordained to be above everyone else. You must show him respect because he's KING. Even Rayla emphasizes what a KING he is. BOW BEFORE HIM.

Ezran's idea of """diplomacy""" is just going "Be nice, please." (Followed by a threat LMAO.) "Go live somewhere else." WHERE. What if they try to occupy territory that isn't theirs? Xadian society seems quite separated and territorial. Ezran doesn't consider this. He doesn't consider anything. He has no actual diplomatic skills because he never offers anything, he just expects people to listen to him because he's KING.

You know in Parasite when they're like Of course the rich people are nice, they can afford to be? When Ezran was going I'm a king and I can choose kindness I was like, You're king because of an accident of your birth, and all your privilege and people looking out for you allows you to operate the way you do.

(Janai having an evil brother who is Not The True Heir To The Throne and Trying To Steal It is just part of the show's overall obsession with this narrative -- see also Viren coming from a less privileged background.)

Of course it's still funny to see Ezran be continuously characterized as So Compassionate, So Loving but when it comes to say, Not burning his own people alive or Extending the hand of kindness to one of his oldest childhood friends or her father, he just turns that shit off. This could be interesting hypocrisy if I thought the show was trying to intentionally paint him this way, instead of just wanting him to not be a total pushover because he's THE KING!!! ALL BOW BEFORE THE KING!!!!

The unbelievable frustration caused by a scene where Claudia is begging to not have to use dark magic -- Terry coming in and saving the day with natural magic -- Claudia staring at the peaceful solution and realizing she needs to change -- BUT IT'S STILL A FUNDAMENTAL DISPARITY IN HOW HUMANS CAN EXIST IN THIS WORLD? Is Claudia supposed to die because dark magic is too wrong to use? Now we have the reveal that humans are being actively denied magic I'm hesitantly hopeful they may get some justice in this regard, but it doesn't change the reality of humans right now. What are humans supposed to do? Rely on others for help? Oh, sure, most of the elves and dragons we meet now are just so nice and helpful to humans, because of the show's 'bad apple' approach to prejudice I've mentioned before, but we know that wasn't always the case.

Like, this actual reminder that the difference in power between a single dragon and a human settlement, and unlike the last time we're on the side of humans this time so you can better appreciate the horror of it ... it's depressing to feel like "Only by grace of your betters do you survive." It's echoes of Janai's 'forgiveness' of the human who put out the fire of that elf who assaulted her. "Aren't you lucky we're so NICE?"

This is all compounded by what I meant at the start of my review, that they've written themselves into a corner, especially wrt dark magic. In universe Soren sees no choice but to ask his father to do dark magic, something all the characters scold each other for constantly. Out of universe, the writers had a huge fuck off dragon come along to commit genocide against the humans and the only realistic solution is .... having Viren do dark magic, something the narrative constantly reinforces as bad. They ultimately frame this act as heroic, and according to a writer (I believe) on the discord, he speaks the spell forward to represent how this act of inherent good overcomes the "inherent evil" of dark magic (quotation marks theirs, interestingly.) I think the writers, for the most part, clearly like Viren and Claudia a lot, and like giving them 'big moments' with dark magic ... but this is part of the reason why the show has continuously reinforced a NEED for dark magic without giving any viable solution for the average human who doesn't have natural magical powers or is friends with dragons and elves like our main heroes. Ultimately, it feels hypocritical of the show to keep going on about the evil of dark magic (now very firmly an addiction metaphor) while having no solution for humans in tricky situations that aren't "magic you and only you can do, for some reason" or "queen dragon who somehow still isn't dead dear god coming to save you" or, y'know, "dark magic." Only one of these is really viable for the average person.

Like, you make it an addiction metaphor, but where's the alternative? Vampires need to drink blood to survive but vampire series often show vampires refusing to drink human blood as an addiction metaphor ... they drink animal blood instead, or something, and you get the metaphor. Right now, in TDP, it's either, do dark magic and suffer, or don't do dark magic and ... suffer more? Okay. I'm not saying life has to be fair or that there isn't value in accepting loss, but when Viren scolds Kpp'Ar for having all his fun with dark magic and then very callously dismissing Viren's fear for his son, I felt that. Viren isn't begging for a beer here. He's begging to save his son. Addiction metaphors need to match the scale and reality of what is being shown to you.

Sorry, I'm now going to harp on more about the Your Betters Are Born Better stuff now because I was actually enjoying (you know, tearfully so) Viren's death until his final lines. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GASPED!!!!!!!! HOLD ON!!!!!!!!!!! Like, let me get it out of the way, I get it echoes his last exchange to Harrow and his loyalty to Harrow is tied to his loyalty to Katolis, and they're saying "He was power hungry but now he is acting in a way that is purely, totally selfless for maybe the first time in his life," which is fine. The problem is, I have sat through six seasons of this show kissing royal ass. I have seen Aanya (shudder) mock him for not being a real noble-born ruler. I have seen Ezran's divine authority be reinforced time and again, and seen Viren throw himself submissively before his King to submit to his judgement as King, not as someone he once hurt. I have been reminded time and again that less privileged people who want the power necessary to succeed in a world biased against them are power-hungry lunatics unless they submit themselves enough to the Supreme Order of the world. So to have Viren's last words be him reinforcing that the most heroic thing he can ever be is A LOYAL SERVANT is just ... horrible. If they'd just kept the framing of Viren's death on his love for his family, it would have been way, way better.

Altogether I uh guess the season was mostly fine. They actually did a better job tying disparate narratives together with common themes which I appreciate. I liked the magefam stuff. I hope Soren eventually learns the stuff Viren chose not to tell him. I hope there's realistic forward growth on the attitude towards dark magic and why humans feel they need it, like some acknowledgement that Katolis was only saved because of Viren (make that two nations he has explicitly saved.) Maybe even Ezran can take a break from being unbearably sanctimonious to properly acknowledge his sacrifice. That would be nice!

I really hope humans get some justice for how they've been actively denied a valuable resource. It seems a self-fulfilling prophecy (they punished Leola for giving humans magic, this made Aaravos go darksided, Aaravos gave humans dark magic, humans are very set against the magical community for the way they've been treated so they're more callous about using dark magic) so I hope the ultimate lesson won't be "humans don't deserve this" but "humans only ended up here because they were treated like they don't deserve it, but they do, by right of existing as beings in this world." If Callum (+ Ezran) end the series as the only or some of the only humans with magic powers, I'm going to eat drywall.

#tdp critical #*#*prepares my drywall just in case*#tdp spoilers #the dragon prince spoilers #my stuff is always okay to reblog btw!

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criticallyinneedofadar · 18 days ago

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Hi! I love your writing! Are you able to do a Elrond fic with a mage elf reader from a different land where their ears are longer & was raised with human commoners? Maybe she's been hiding with Bronwyn and the south landers? (they don't trust Halbrand, he reminds her of the nobles she used to know) Just a meet cute would be lovely, maybe in Eregion? Thanks, keep up the fantastic writing ♥️

I haven't forgotten about my asks! It's just taken me some time to give them all the time they deserve!

This is adorable and I had so much fun writing it!

Side note: For the purposes of this ask, we are saying that the Noldor have longer ears and some split off to stay around the humans in the southlands. Does it follow Tolkien lore? No. But that's okay. Don't take it too seriously :)

A Promise at the Gates

The air smells faintly of woodsmoke, a ghost of the battle that razed Tirharad to its foundations. You stride through the remnants of the village, your boots kicking up ash that clings to the hem of your cloak. The cries of children and murmurs of despair echo as displaced humans cluster around their leader, Bronwyn. Your friend.

She stands with her shoulders straight, her face a mask of calm determination. You marvel at her resilience; the humans have lost so much, and yet Bronwyn remains steadfast.

"I’ll journey to Eregion," you announce, breaking into her thoughts.

Bronwyn’s sharp gaze fixes on you. "Are you sure? The road is dangerous, and the elves…" She hesitates. "They may not listen."

You smirk, though your heart aches for her doubt. "They’ll listen to me. I’m persuasive."

She huffs out a laugh, and the two of you share a moment of fleeting warmth. But your gaze flickers to Halbrand, standing apart from the others. His every move prickles your instincts—his easy charm, his watchful eyes, the way he avoids questions with a grin.

"I still don’t trust him," you mutter.

"Neither do I," Bronwyn admits. "But he helped us."

"Did he, though?" you counter, your voice low. Your past whispers in your mind—smiling lords who lied with their teeth and betrayed with their blades. Halbrand reminds you of them.

But Bronwyn shakes her head, her focus resolute. "If he means harm, we’ll deal with it. For now, we must find shelter."

And so, you go, leaving the humans behind to gather their meager belongings.

+++++

The road to Eregion is long, winding through the wildlands of Middle-earth. You keep to yourself, avoiding caravans and curious humans. The journey gives you time to think—perhaps too much time. Memories surface, unbidden, of the great halls of your kin, where politics wove tighter snares than any spider’s web.

By the time you arrive, the walls of Eregion gleam in the sunlight, and its beauty takes your breath away. Fine craftsmanship blends seamlessly with the natural world, an unmistakable mark of the elves who dwell here. Yet it’s not the architecture that catches your eye—it’s the figure waiting just beyond the gates.

"Mae govannen," he says, his voice like a song. He is tall, with a poise that speaks of both wisdom and kindness. His dark hair shines in the light, and his eyes—those eyes—seem to look straight into your soul.

You hesitate, and his brow furrows slightly. "You are a traveler, yes? Seeking refuge or passage?"

"I’m seeking aid," you reply, your voice steady. "For the people of Tirharad."

His lips quirk upward at her name. "Ah, the human settlement. I cannot say I have heard much of anything from the southlands." He places a hand over his heart in a gesture of respect. "I am Elrond Peredhel. Please, come inside."

You nod, falling into step beside him as he leads you through the city.

+++++

The warmth of Eregion’s halls is a balm to your weary soul. You are ushered into a sitting room, where wine and fruit await. Elrond pours you a glass himself, his movements unhurried.

"You are Noldor, are you not?" he asks as he offers the drink.

You incline your head. "You know us by our ears, I assume."

His smile softens. "They are distinctive, but there is something else. A certain… informality in your bearing. It is refreshing."

You laugh, a genuine sound that surprises even you. "Is that your way of saying I lack decorum?"

"Not at all," he replies, his tone earnest. "It is a compliment."

The conversation flows easily after that. You speak of Bronwyn’s plight, of the humans displaced by war and the help they desperately need. Elrond listens intently, his gaze never wavering. When you finish, he nods thoughtfully.

"Eregion’s resources are strained, they are not equipped to send out vast quantities of supplies," he admits. "But I will speak with the High King. No one should be left to suffer, not while aid is within reach."

His words ease a tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. "Thank you," you say, meaning it.

But as the evening wears on, you find yourself watching him not as an emissary, but as a friend. There’s a warmth to him, a quiet strength that draws you in. And when he smiles at you—a real, unguarded smile—it feels like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The days that follow blur together. You work closely with Elrond, planning the logistics of transporting supplies to Tirharad. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize how different he is from the elves you knew in your youth. He is kind, yes, but also clever and quick-witted, with a knack for putting others at ease.

One afternoon, as you pore over maps in his study, he leans back in his chair and regards you with a curious expression.

"You are unlike any Noldor I’ve met before," he says.

You arch an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment or an observation?"

"A little of both," he admits, his lips twitching into a grin.

You tilt your head, studying him. "And you, Elrond Peredhel. You’re unlike the other elves I’ve met. You seem to carry the weight of two worlds on your shoulders, yet you never falter."

He looks away, his smile fading. "It is both a gift and a burden to be of two peoples. I strive to honor them both, but it is not always easy."

For a moment, you see the vulnerability beneath his polished exterior, and it makes your heart ache. Without thinking, you reach across the table and place your hand over his.

"You do it well," you say softly. "Better than most could."

He meets your gaze, and something unspoken passes between you—a connection that feels as ancient and unshakable as the earth beneath your feet.

The day of your departure arrives too soon. Bronwyn’s people need the supplies, and you cannot linger, no matter how much a part of you wishes to stay.

Elrond walks you to the gates of Eregion, his expression unreadable.

"Will you return?" he asks, his voice quiet.

You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "If the road leads me here again," you say, "I will not stray from it."

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Then I will wait. Until the road calls you back."

You step closer, your heart pounding. "And if it doesn’t?"

His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the world falls away. "Then I will find it myself."

The words hang between you, a promise and a hope. You don’t say goodbye; it feels too final, too cruel. Instead, you turn and walk away, the weight of his gaze following you long after the city disappears from view.

As you journey back to Tirharad, your thoughts linger on Elrond—on his kindness, his strength, and the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in centuries.

You smile to yourself, the memory of his voice echoing in your mind. Perhaps, someday, the road will lead you back to Eregion. Or perhaps, as he promised, he will find you first.

#elrond x reader #asks #elrond peredhel #elrond rings of power #elrond

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cursedfallingmoon · 4 months ago

Text

OC MASTERLIST!

(ALL THE LINKS ARE FIXED!!)

🏢.Modern day OCs!

💖. Jesse || Cute boy best friend: PT. 1 | PT. 2

🦴. Bone || Delinquent: PT. 1

🧸. Lylah || Friend's little sister: WIP

💵. Malakai || Toxic rich boy: PT. 1

🌊. Ranee || Confused Merman: PT. 1 ⇒ Asks: Where's my Human?

🔪.Takehiko || Yakuza sugar daddy: PT. 1

⭐. Ryland || Scummy celebrity: PT. 1

Hacker

Scumbag

Surfer

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

👾. Cyberpunk OCs!

Netrunner

Mercenary

Corpo

Diner owner

Ripperdoc

City Grown

Badlands Grown

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

👑. Switched Disney OCs!

!!Moved here!!

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

💍. Husbands through the decades!

Modern Day-☕. Julian || Too perfect Husband: : PT. 1

2010 Husband

2000 Husband

1990 Husband

1980 Husband

1970 Husband

1960 Husband

1950 Husband

1940 Husband

1930 Husband

1920 Husband

1910 Husband

1900 Husband

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

💻.Futuristic OCs!

Alien

Robot Society

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

💪. Hero Society OCs!

WIP

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

🪄.Mythical OCs!

🪶.Helys || Shy Harpy Hare: PT. 1

Tiny Fairy

Fairy Hive

Vampire

Emperor

King

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

🪶.Hybrid Bird OCs!

Harpy Hybrid

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

🦋.Hybrid Bug OCs!

Butterfly Hybrid

Moth Hybrid

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

🐾. Hybrid Forest OCs

Buck Hybrid

Deerling Hybrid

Moose Hybrid

Wolf Hybrid

Hare Hybrid

Bunny Hybrid

Fox Hybrid

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

🧺. Fairy Tale Picnic

WIP

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

📖.Cealieor Realm!

The Gods

God of Life

God of Death

God of Seas

Goddess of Earth

God of the Skies

God of Sun

God of the Moon

Goddess of the stars

God of Love

God of War

Goddess of Knowledge

Goddess of Dragons

Goddess of Elves

Goddess of Fairies

Goddess of Humanity

God of Winter

Goddess of Fall

God of Summer

Goddess of Spring

The 7 Princes

Prince of the North

Prince of the South

Prince of the West

Prince of the East

Prince of the Central

Prince of the Sea

Prince of the Sky

Dragon Realm:

🔥. Solaris || Yan Fire Dragon: PT. 1

💨. Yandere Wind Dragon: WIP

Earth Dragon

Rock Dragon

Lava Dragon

Water Dragon

Ice Dragon

Thunder Dragon

Fairy Realm:

Ice Fairy

Water Fairy

Fire Fairy

Nature Fairy

Dark Fairy

Light Fairy

Wind Fairy

Earth Fairy

Elf Realm

Normal Elf

Ice Elf

Water Elf

Fire Elf

Nature Elf

Earth Elf

Dragon Elf

MORE TO COME!!

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shirefantasies · 3 months ago

Note

Hello friend ! 🤍 I see your requests are temporarily open and I hope that is still the case. Your writing is so cute and wholesome and I rly enjoy it 😊

I am not sure if you have me on your taglist- If not, could you tag my tolkien blog @wordbunch so that I don't miss anything!

Could I ask either for hobbits with elf crush (yes we have human crush but what about elf crush!), or how the members of the fellowship (the ones that were there for the final battle against sauron, when aragorn made the famous speech lol) - how you support/motivate/comfort each other before that event

Sorry for the suuuuper big message 😇

Nah you're totally fine! I've gotten waaaaaay longer and more complicated asks 😂 I have @wordbunch on my taglist rn so I'll keep tagging you in all my posts 🥰 it's still crazy to me that the blog that I loved and was inspired to make this blog from IS ON MY TAGLIST WHATTTTTTTT insane. It's like I'm a musician and like Freddy Mercury or the Beatles or if you’re me Danny Elfman is following me lmaos nuts man. All that to say I so appreciate your support and here are some hobbits to start 😉

The Hobbits Falling For Elf!Reader

Frodo

His Elvish skills serve him greatly here; as if by instinct he greets you in your own language, bringing a smile to your lips. “Where did you learn the words of the Sindar?” “From my uncle, actually. Ever since his visit here years ago he has never forgotten your history and your hospitality.” Realization widens your eyes and parts your lips. “Your uncle is Bilbo Baggins?” “Yes,” the hobbit smiles and gives a little bow, “I am Frodo Baggins, Bilbo’s nephew.” Your hand clutches your heart and you look upon Frodo’s rising form with new exhilaration. “I was there when Bilbo and his company came. Quite a…well, a boisterous gathering, but your uncle was dear, curious and polite. A model guest indeed. It is an honor to know another member of your lovely family.” At that, you take your turn to give Frodo a small bow, one hand sweeping outward. The intensity of his eyes, the great joy and wonder, brings heat to your cheeks that matches the red tinting his.

Sam

Sam’s awe for the elves comes to his aid here for it gives him a bit of courage to talk to you, but also disguises his attraction to you as that wonder-filled curiosity. He tells himself-nay, all but commands himself- that curiosity it shall remain. You are very pretty after all, but what would an elf want with a- “Are you, then, the gardener I heard about from Frodo?” Half jumping out of his skin, Sam focuses again on your eyes, his own quite wide. “Oh, yes indeed! Indeed I am. What did he tell you about me?” “Only that you tend every growing thing with the utmost care, and if anyone knew a thing about the Shire-plants, it was you, Master Gamgee.” “Begging your pardon, but you can just call me Sam if it suits you.” “It does indeed, Sam. If I ask it of you, would you answer a few questions? Look at a few sketches? My task, no, my passion, is my book of botany, and I believe you would be a great help.” “You could use my help? Of course! Lead the way.” Standing up as straight and tall as he could, Sam remained at attention, grinning up at you. His smiled warmed you as you led him between the great trees of Lothlórien to your study.

Merry

“You’re an elf!” “Yes,” you giggle, “And you are a hobbit, are you not?” “That’s right, a hobbit of the Shire! …Are we really going to Rivendell?” Merry’s smile is infectious. “Yes,” you answer with a nod, “Your friend is safe there and so shall you be.” “Is it true what they say about it?” “That would depend.” “That it’s the most beautiful place in Middle Earth, positively glowing with magic?” The flutter of joy in your heart that always comes with thoughts of home returns in full warmth. “It is to me,” you answered, glancing back down into the hobbit’s dark blue eyes. “I think it will stay second to Hobbiton for me,” Merry confessed with a wide smile, “Although if you’re there, Rivendell may win out yet.”

Pippin

“You’re all very good at that, you know.” Turning on your heels, you see a hobbit standing leaned against a pillar on the far side of your practice area. Crossing it to retrieve your arrow from its embedment in your target, you watch your visitor with curious amusement. A smirk spreads across your face. “Archery? Far from it. My brother alone proves that.” “Not a good shot?” The hobbit replies. “Accidentally caught one of Lord Elrond’s banners once. Tore the whole thing down.” “I’d likely do the same,” the hobbit admits with a sheepish smile. “You know not until you take up a bow yourself. Come…” “Pippin.” “Pippin,” you smile, reaching a hand down to urge him forward by the shoulder and seeing Pippin smile at the contact, “Stand here.” Remaining there as he did, Pippin bobbed and bounced on his heels as you retrieved a child’s training bow. As soon as he accepted it you stood behind the hobbit, wrapping your arms over his and sliding his hands into the proper grip. “How is that?” “Excellent,” he said. “Good. Now, my dear Pippin, let us take a shot!”

Bilbo

Nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him upon entry to the Valley of Imladris. Not the cascading waterfalls or white columns, not the great libraries, no. You. Far taller than him and much fairer, you stun the hobbit like nothing else. How can he address you? What could he possibly find to discuss with someone in the council of Lord Elrond himself? …Literature. He can do that! As it turns out, his stroke of luck is greater than he might have anticipated: you are a writer, painstakingly translating old Quenya texts. “I-I’ve studied a fair bit of the Sindar’s language, but this? This is quite unfamiliar to me.” Scooting your chair closer, you smile down at the hobbit. “Here, allow me to show you.” Bilbo leans closer- he must, for you invite him to sit at your side and peer over your shoulder, eyes scanning between unfamiliar characters and your lovely profile.

Rosie

Her gut reaction becomes her voiced reaction: “I never thought I would see an elf in real life.” Sheepishness overtakes her as soon as the words leave her mouth, though. Chuckling gently, you admit this was quite a journey for you, too. Another initial reaction and joke from Rosie is that you’ve never tasted real ale, then- hobbits’ ale. You’re quickly being poured a glass. Over drinks she asks you questions, like what plants grow in your region and what your favorites are. What you eat, what you drink. All the questions you might expect from a hobbit, but with such a glowing, endearing smile the whole time.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

#lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr imagines #the hobbit imagines #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #bilbo #rosie #elf reader #ask #shirebarbie #requested #lookie everyone THE wordbunch follows me 🤩🤩🤩

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beetheyapper · 12 days ago

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introducing my silly little The Hobbit oc

I may be hyperfixating too close to the sun, but I do not care. As a Middle Earth lover and also a d&d player, I wanted to make my own little character to fit into the Tolkein universe. I have created far too much lore in my head for her, so this post is kind of ridiculously long, and I have therefore kept it under the cut. you're welcome <3

Without further ado, allow me to infodump about introduce my half-elf, Ena Riddon

Some basic info: Ena is half-elven, born of a Silvan elf father and a human mother in autumn of 1421 TA. She chose to live an immortal life after her mother's death, and resides in the Elvenking's Halls in the Greenwood with her father. When she isn't busy being a captain of the guard (before Tauriel was born and made her co-captain, that is), she spends her time studying various languages, and is fluent in Sindarin (obviously), Westron (also obviously), Khuzdul, and Quenya. She also studies Eldarin, but is not even close to being fluent in it. I would like it to be known that though she is fluent in Khuzdul, she practically never gets the opportunity to coverse in it, so her pronunciation is strongly affected by her native Sindarin accent.

here’s a little drawing of her bc she is my shayla 💜

The drawing kind of means I don't have to explain what she looks like to you, but I'm going to do so anyway. Ena has brown hair that falls to her waist, and has poliosis that gives her a patch of pale hair in the front of her head and in her eyebrow. She has a few scattered freckles on her skin, most of which are the result of her spending too much time in one of the Greenwood's few clearings. Her skin is fair with an olive undertone and hazel eyes. She stands at 5 feet and 5 inches tall (about 165 cm for my friends abroad).

"But Bee, how does she fit into the plot? What do other characters think of her?"

I'm so glad you asked. buckle up.

Ena was one of the elves to take the Company of Thorin Oakenshield into captivity and lead them into the dungeons of the Elvenking's Halls. Mind you, this happens in 2941 TA, so she's 1520 years old. She's been best friends with Tauriel for the past 500 years, which is essentially all of Tauriel's mature life. She's been close with Legolas, or at least as close as a half-elf can be with the prince of her kingdom, for twice as long. He was once her mentor, but he was reassigned to Tauriel when she joined the guard. Thranduil doesn't particularly like her. Perhaps it's because he sees her as below him, or perhaps its because she's simply too loud. Who's to say? All Ena knows is that she gets a kick out of getting on his nerves. Her linguistic knowledge has made her useful though, especially in the education of the elflings and in translating old documents so the King doesn't have to.

The Company is imprisoned on Mereth Nuin Giliath, the Feast of Starlight, so while the dwarves are downstairs letting the annoyance marinate, Ena and the other elves are upstairs living it up. Our lovely half-elf is a bit more easily affected by liquor than the typical elf, and with the warm confidence of too much wine in her blood, she stumbles her way downstairs to flirt with Fili because she remembers thinking the blonde one was cute as she stripped him of the 25 different knives he carried. She might've been a bit ashamed had Tauriel not also been down there chatting it up with Kili. So she starts speaking to this dwarf in awfully pronounced Khuzdul, her words slurring ever so slightly, and he's like Oh What In Mahal's Name.

I'll spare you the details, dear reader, but you'd like to know that Ena eventually accompanies... the company... much to Thorin's dismay. It took Fili putting in a good word and nearly an hour of Bilbo begging him to have some sense for him to finally agree, and he only agreed because they were without weapons to defend themselves from another orc attack and she happened to weild both bow and sword. Thorin almost kicks her out when he falls to dragon sickness, though, and Fili and Bilbo have to fight tooth and nail to convince him to let her stay.

I have a few different ideas of how things ended for her based on whether we're going with the canon ending, the ending where they all live, etc.

One thing that is not dependant on the dwarves' ending is that her father dies in the Battle of the Five Armies, so it's a very sad day for her regardless. Perhaps I derive too much satisfaction from making my ocs sad...

I've written the exchange between drunken Ena and imprisoned Fili and could possibly be persuaded to share that on here if someone were to suggest such a thing. just saying.

I'm sure there are things about her I've failed to share, but I have homework to do for university so those details will simply have to be remembered and shared at a later date. I hope you enjoyed my rambling, and thank you for reading this far! <3

tagging the lovely people who encouraged me to post this: @whiskeyreverie @lathalea

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 1 month ago

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LGBTQ Disabled Characters Showdown Quarterfinals Poll 2

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other polls in the quarterfinals here.

Eda Clawthorne-The Owl House

Qualifications:

She has a magical chronic disorder which has flare-ups, is mitigated by taking medication (potions), and has similar side effects to many real disorders such as fatigue, greying hair, and physical impairment (drains magic, a natural ability of *most witches). Unlike in other stories however, her condition is NOT ever completely cured. It does evolve and become more manageable over the course of the story, but she still experiences symptoms from it. Eda also loses one of her arms later in the story. She does get a replacement hook, but it is never shown whether she has a functional prosthetic or not. Most likely, she only has one fully functioning arm after this. As for being queer, she is in a relationship with a nonbinary person and is all but confirmed bisexual (has a secret box with the bi flag on it seriously why else would she have this). Also the owl house has a Lot of queer characters in it and I mean. just look at her. I would be surprised if she wasn't queer somehow.

Bisexual, and has a curse that affects her day to day life

Bi & lost arm and has a chronic illness metaphorically

Propaganda:

Has canonically dated both men and a non-binary person. Her curse affects her ability to use magic (and at one point outright stops it), which is very important in witch life. Said curse also causes her body parts to fall off sometimes. Many have said her curse is like a metaphor for depression but really it's more like a magic version of a physical disability (although I wouldn't be surprised if she actually also had depression).

Uuuuh she’s great and stuff idk I can’t propaganda well sorry

Amaya-The Dragon Prince

Qualifications:

1- Deaf, uses sign language 2- Sapphic, married to a female elf

Deaf and not straight (I don't know if they've mentioned her suxuality in canon, but she's dating a woman)

She is in an explicit relationship with Janai (also female, very very gay) and is deaf.

Amaya is a general of the Katolis army. She is deaf since birth and communicates in sign language. She's the best warrior in the human lands and she is a raging lesbian.

She's Deaf and a lesbian

Canonically deaf and engaged to a woman

Propaganda:

Amaya is so cool. This is the only time I have ever seen a memorable Deaf/HOH person on a children's tv show. Her disability is dealt with really well. She isn't pitied for it. On the contrary, she's a fricking general! Did I mention she's cool? In terms of queer stuff, she's married to a literal queen (actually I haven't seen the show in a while, so its at the very least a queen-adjacent figure), and they're so cute together and every time I see them it makes me stim. Also she's just a really great character in general (no pun intended). Like, she will hunt you down and kill you if you so much as give her nephew a papercut. She's such a badass like genuinely.

She's a knight and a cool aunt and I love her!

Amaya and her partner, Janai, are the classic enemies-to-lovers couple. Amaya, although deaf, does not let her disability stop her from being the best soldier of her kingdom and has rightfully taken the position of general. She's so badass, but also kind and loving. She's just amazing.

As I said before, she is a raging badass lesbian who is engaged to the queen of Sunfire Elves, who is also the best warrior in this elven nation. Her fiancee is learning sign language for her. They are so in love it physically hurts!!!!

I'm bad at the propaganda thing but I'll give it a try She uses ASL and has an interpreter she's close to. She's also a General of her home kingdom... up until she gets captured by an enemy princess and falls in love. Now that princess is a queen, and as of the last episode they're engaged to be married. Also they share a bed and multiple kisses onscreen. Is a badass fighter, determined, fiercely protects those she loves

Anything Else?:

I LOVE HER SO MUCH (Submitter 1)

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @yurayuramiharin is the fourth submitter.

#polls #poll #disability #disabled characters #lgbtq #lgbtq characters #id in alt text #lgbtq dcs quarterfinals #eda clawthorne #eda the owl lady #the owl house #toh #tdp amaya #general amaya #the dragon prince #tdp

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wren-of-the-woods · 1 year ago

Note

I hear you're where to go for Witcher fic recs! How about some with Geralt being protective over Jaskier? Shippy, if you can find any, but I wouldn't mind platonic! I just want Geralt to look out for his bard. Thank you for your time!

Hello!! Here's what I've got! There's a wide variety of settings and levels of angst, so hopefully there should be something for everone :D

As always, please feel free to add more recs or promote your own work in the notes!

Don't Leave Me by @geraskierficrecs (Rated M, 6.2k)

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--” “Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.” “S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?” Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

If You Give a Bard a Lute by @ghostinthelibrarywrites (Rated T, 10k)

After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Wild Blue Yonder by @jaskierswolf (Rated T, 5.3k)

Geralt's bookshop is slowly falling apart and he's ready to give up when Jaskier wanders into the store

remember me I sing by @echo-bleu (Rated G, 3.1k - also includes Yennnefer)

Filavandrel's gift was so much more than a simple lute. It seemed fitting, that Jaskier’s soul would be made of wood and strings and beautiful sounds. The problem is that now Rience has his lute and is threatening to burn it if they don't hand over Ciri. And Jaskier has never told anyone that his very life is tied to his beloved instrument.

This Is How I Disappear by @stacyholmes (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier keeps texting unknown number. Geralt keeps reading said texts without answering.

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart (Rated T, 16.5k)

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad. Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way. Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues. ... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Getting Warmer (orphaned) (Rated T, 8.2k)

Injured and freezing after a kikimora hunt gone wrong, Geralt and Jaskier must wait out a thunderstorm at the bottom of a cliff, huddling for warmth. It is here that Geralt finally confronts his feelings for the bard.

Jaskier and Mountains Just Don't Mix by C4t1l1n4 (Rated G, 3.8k)

Despite the other Witchers' positive reaction to Geralt's bard, Vesemir is reluctant to have a human stay with them at Kaer Morhen so Jaskier attempts to leave and ends up almost freezing to death on the side of the mountain. Hypothermia fic

Immediately, I Love Him (He's Doing His Best) by @hum-my-name (Rated G, 26.5k)

"In which Greg is some sort of guardian angel, I don't know" <><> A few days ago, Joey Batey did an interview in which he created a lovely little character named Greg. A few days ago, I decided to write a cute little thing about Greg and Jaskier being the best of friends throughout the years, with a dash of Geralt and Jaskier friendship as a treat. 13k words later, here we are. Enjoy.

Broken Mirror by happy_hermit (Rated G, 2.1k)

To Geralt’s credit, he waits until they’re well away from Kaer Morhen to ask the question. He also waits until Yennefer and Ciri have gone to bed, which makes the whole thing feel a bit too calculated for Jaskier’s liking, which is to say that he doesn’t like it at all. “Where’s your lute, Jaskier?” Jaskier doesn’t quite flinch, though his heart does something of the sort all on its own. It is very much a wound that hasn’t healed; as is most of him, these days.

Echo by @kingthunder (Rated E, 29.5k)

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22.8k)

The mare is but a silhouette of a human and yet at his words something passes through her expression - whether it’s surprise, joy, fear, Geralt doesn’t know. But it’s clear that what he said has struck her in some way. (“She is not some mindless monster, Geralt.” He remembers Jaskier’s words.) A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

Also, because I'm not above reccing my own fics, here's a few I've written!

Wash Away the Blood and Tears by me (Rated T, 1.8k)

Jaskier re-injures his fingers while distracting Nilfgaard from Ciri. Afterward, Geralt volunteers to help wash his hair. Or: In which Jaskier gets a bath and a nap, and Geralt gets a new role in the group.

We'll Build a Den Out of Pillows (And Get Drunk Again) by me (Rated G, 2k)

Jaskier gets sick. When Geralt asks how to help, Jaskier jokingly suggests that he build a pillow fort. He does not expect Geralt to take it seriously. Geralt takes it seriously.

If you want more, there’s a Protective Geralt tag on AO3 that I’m sure has many lovely works I haven’t read!

(You can also find my other reclists here)

#wren recs #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic recs #witcher #reclists #twn #asks #anon #am i getting a reputation? how fun!#i guess y'all are catching onto the fact that i have no self-restraing when it comes to reclists lol

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beautifulterriblequeen · 2 months ago

Text

Thoughts from Dreamer's Nightmare

Each of Wonderstorm's graphic novels has given us extra content outside the scope of the show, and each has teased us with hints and foreshadowing that fall in line with the greater themes of the multimedia story they're presenting.

Through the Moon gave us a greater understanding of the purpose of the Moon Nexus, which the new trailer has shown will be expanded upon in S7. We got to see the mechanics of rescue and resurrection through Phoe-Phoe's rebirth and Rayla's visit to the world beyond life and death, which foreshadowed Runaan's return in S6.

It also gave Rayla and Callum a reason to hold love and pain in their hearts at the same time, so their struggle to come back together after separation, in S4 and beyond, would mirror the greater struggle of the humans and elves all across Xadia as they try to find ways to stop fighting their endless war and achieve peace and love with one another.

Bloodmoon Huntress gave us a new villain, Kim'dael, who appeared in the show in S5, and set up what feels like a rematch between her and the moonfam. It also gave us Runaan and Rayla's bonding origin story, allowing greater understanding of her heartfelt focus on rescuing him.

We also got the tiniest peek at Keeper L-------'s existence. When Rayla sees him in S7, his lore will expand.

And then there's Runaan and Ethari's relationship, which was expanded a lot in the graphic novel. Whatever we get in S7, we already know that they're an effective battle couple, each with their own strengths, and that they're devoted to each other and work well as a team.

Puzzle House did so much heavy lifting with its foreshadowing, I'm in awe. The unicorns were a fun throughline that no one suspected would lead us to Leola, but it has. The meta moment when we've left the cute childlike area behind and now we're in the dark scary part is delightfully self-aware and holds such importance for the constant growth and maturing themes in the show. The hint that the greater multimedia story of Xadia itself is like a puzzle to be solved is subtle, but accurate. We can find valuable secrets hidden inside if we take the time to think and analyze properly.

Claudia's ability to read Viren's map foreshadows options in S7, and the concept of a pure heart, first touched on with Amaya in S3, is expanded upon here as a real phenomenon that has real in-universe effects, so when we came back to it in S6 with Soren - with comments from Corvus and from Viren - we are left with a much expanded understanding of what that means for him.

So, what does Dreamer's Nightmare have to offer us? Let's take a look. (This is just a high-altitude pass, looking for peaks rising from the fog. I'm not going to delve into every aspect of the book in this post.) The things that stand out to me at similar heights to the other points I've mentioned for the other graphic novels are these:

Callum and Ezran's relationship is fraught during much of this story, even though they do love each other. It's reminiscent of TTM's approach to Rayla and Callum struggling to find common ground despite their fathers' conflict, and I think that's where it's pointing again, too. With Runaan returned, Ezran and Callum will find themselves on opposite sides, despite their love for each other. And they'll have to try to work through that if they want to reach an understanding. Callum and Rayla didn't get there in TTM - it took them much longer, so we might not get a complete and tidy result just from S7.

The dream warden holds the rest of the big themes I see as foreshadowing. They circle around time and identity.

The warden itself was young when it made a friend, and then it lost them. Connection and loss are constant themes in TDP, from all the parents our main five kids have lost, to the choices they make that take them away from each other, to the ways they choose to seek each other out again. The warden lost its connection to the little one it loved, and over time it grew angry, hurtful. This feels like a parallel to Aaravos and his loss of Leola, and the darkening of the star on his chest. Its plan to attack the adults for leaving their dreams behind is similar to Aaravos' grand scheme in some ways.

The other aspect of the dream warden I feel is themey is the time gap and loss of identity it suffers once it's calmed. It returns, and for a moment it is still very alone and uncertain. More than one show character has stood in such a position, and yet more may stand here soon. Rayla stood here when she finally sought Callum out after two years. Runaan is standing here now, between S6 and S7, uncertain where the battle lines have shifted to in his absence, and who is on his side. Aaravos may stand here if he stops causing chaos and truly looks at the people he's been harming. Claudia could stand here as well, seeing the way she's been pushing those who love her away and changing herself in pursuit of her goals. The warden's storm can represent a host of too-big, negative emotions, and plenty of characters carry such a storm inside them.

The hopeful side of the identity moment is that the warden takes on parts of the identity of those supporting it. Little bits of the other creatures live on in it. It is already not as alone as it may feel. It already has support, even before it begins to reach out in dreams for new friends. It's choosing to emulate those who helped, and that will help the warden become a helper itself, once more. A new cycle is beginning, and it can spread to anyone receptive to it, anyone who takes something good and makes it their own and carries it forward to touch other lives. Runaan was not always an assassin. Aaravos was not always a manipulator. Claudia was not always a killer. If you live, you can still learn.

Cycles aren't inherently bad. They're just tools. Big, giant engines, massive cosmic things we build with our will and maintain through our choices - all of us, together.

Here's to Season 7 of The Dragon Prince, and the conclusion of the cycle we've spun together. I'll see you on the other side.

#tdp #tdp spoilers #tdp meta #dreamer's nightmare #puzzle house #bloodmoon huntress #through the moon #tdp graphic novels #tdp speculation

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acefaun · 2 years ago

Note

Please post the story as soon as you can ❣🥺

Love you ❄

Legolas~ Imaginary Friend

Synopsis: Legolas has a lonesome childhood and wishes on a star for a friend… He doesn’t expect an invisible friend to come out of his innocent wish.

🍃Masterlist🍃 Gender-Neutral MC!

A/n: A short and sweet fic I thought of after a few Legolas fics I’ve read shortly after my first time watching Lord of the Rings. Does it make sense? Probably not. But cute things don’t need to make sense. 😚 I wuv you guys tooooooo!! 💖✨

–Word Count: 1,781–

The stars glimmered beyond the canopy of branches and leaves, blessing the lands below with their ethereal light. It should have been too late at night for many to be up and about, but he was. Sitting upon those branches… was a young elven boy named Legolas.

Legolas had been lonely since his mother’s passing. It had been some time since then, and he found companionship with the trees and the billions of stars that illuminated his world. His lifestyle was unique, with his royal status and his time being occupied by studies and training, he didn’t have many friends to soothe his loneliness. So, he had nothing else to do besides perfect his craft and… gaze at the stars above, wishing for someone to take away the empty feeling that had been amassing in his chest.

“I wish… someone could be my real friend…” He sighed, laying back against the branch he was on. Shutting his eyes, he couldn’t help but lament the surrounding silence.

He inhaled the cool, twilight air. He was going to regret not sleeping while he was supposed to. Well, at the very least, the rustling of the leaves and the feeling of the wind brushing across his skin was comforting.

Well… he thought so until his peaceful moment was interrupted by an aggressive rustle of branches. Quickly, sitting up, a figure landed on the branch in front of him, making him flinch back with a startled yelp. “Wha- Who… Who are you?!” His eyes were wide as he scanned the figure. Last he checked, humans couldn’t fly, so they most certainly couldn’t randomly fall out of the sky like a wingless bird.

You only seemed to gaze at him with the utmost curiosity before a grin crossed your face. As if it were supposed to be obvious, you asked, “You don’t know me? My name is (Name). I heard when you wished on my star and I’m here to be your friend!”

The entire situation was too ironic, the timing was too well-placed for you to be serious. Besides… you looked like a human. Still… you did just fall out of the sky like a shooting star would… Humming, he uncertainly asked, “So you’re… a star?”

“Hah,” You laughed, though it wasn’t a mean laugh. You were just amused that he confused you for the star you ruled. “No, silly,” you corrected. “I’m a friend.”

He was wary of you at first, but it was clear that you were being honest. After all, you were a phenomenon in his life. You came down to Middle-Earth with the sole intention of being his best friend. The only peculiarity that came with this particular friendship… was that you were invisible to everyone besides Legolas. However, you were very real in the sense that Legolas still had to make sure you were properly fed and watered like an actual living being.

You being invisible didn’t help him when he got caught so many times stealing food for you. And while his father was suspicious of his behavior, his accusations were misplaced when he would approach his son. “Were you feeding the animals again? Legolas, I told you not to do that.”

Of course, Legolas wasn’t about to correct him, getting away with his little crime time and time again as his reasoning was always the same, “It’s not for the animals. It’s for (Name), my friend.” This ‘game,’ as the other elves called it, only lasted until you were both older and there were easier methods of getting food for you. After all, Legolas could only claim you as his best friend for so long. Having an ‘invisible friend’ was unbefitting of a crowned prince of Mirkwood.

Living in Middle-Earth was quite the experience for an invisible being from the stars such as yourself. You thought it was especially strange how you couldn’t attain the same physical attributes as the beautiful elves around you. You were supposed to be a wish granting entity… though… maybe this was what Legolas inwardly wished for. It wasn’t like he wasn’t always assuring you that your appearance was perfect and that you didn’t need to look like the other elves.

You were there to be Legolas’ best friend, but truth be told, you were growing attached to the young elf yourself. Spending centuries with only one person who could see you would clearly give you enough time to develop vigorous feelings of loyalty.

As the loyal best friend that you were, you understood that Legolas couldn’t always spend time with you. There were times when he needed time to himself so he could focus on his studies and royal duties. The other elves knew what Legolas needed much more than you did, after all. You were only there as an emotional support star-spirit and you would fulfill your role as you were intended to.

However, that didn’t mean a mystical being couldn’t grow bored as well. While Legolas was busy, you tended to wander about Mirkwood, having nothing better to do than serve your curiosity and admire the Kingdom’s beauty. Despite having been with Legolas for thousands of years now, Middle Earth never lessened in beauty, especially the forest.

Things ran a constant schedule with Legolas and you fell into your own personal schedule. Well… such a schedule could easily be disrupted… when a non-elven being like yourself wasn’t invisible.

“Hey, human! Stop right there!”

Startled out of your mind, you nearly failed to respond in time, defending yourself at the last minute with the announcement that you just so happened to be Legolas’ best friend! How unfortunate for you that everyone knew the young prince didn’t have any such friends—sans his imaginary one that he stopped claiming he had many centuries ago.

Now, as you ran, doing your best to escape the intimidating elves, you regretted listening to Legolas’ praise that you were a perfect little non-elf. While it was unexpected for you to suddenly be visible, he should have known better than to think a human was a good choice of species for an elven prince to hang around with.

Despite your desperate attempts at evading capture and even finding a few excellent hiding places—in your opinion—you were finally caught and forcibly dragged before their even more intimidating King, Thranduil. You’d seen him in person many many times, but he’d never laid his intimidating eyes on you like this. “What… is a human… doing in Mirkwood?”

“You misunderstand…” You tried to explain yourself once again, with an unconvincingly confident grin. “Legolas brought me here. I’m his best friend; if I could just see him-”

“That would be Prince Legolas to human scum as low as you,” he hissed, waving his hand for them to take you directly to the dungeon. “I have little time to deal with this inconvenience right now.” He clearly didn’t want to hear anymore nonsense from you or anyone else.

At the very least, in the dungeon you wouldn’t be glared at like a disgusting bug they found at the bottom of their boot. Non-elves were really degraded around here…

As depressed as being discarded made you feel, you had no choice but to sulk in the dark cell until someone came to save you. They were all elves with long lifespans, but did they know that even if they left you in there for a hundred years… you were still going to be there? You wondered… but you knew Legolas would eventually find you, even if no one else returned for you.

***

“(Name)!” His voice rang out like the angelic savior he was. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Your eyes widened in surprise, however, that he was making light of the situation. He waltzed up to the door of the cell, peering in on you with amused eyes. “How did you manage to get yourself locked in there?”

It was clear no one had mentioned the situation of a human claiming to be his friend. “Legolas…” you paused, trying to explain it slowly, “Your father put me in here. They can see me now, and… they don’t like that I look like a human.”

Legolas’ eyes widened, matching the way your expression was when he first found you. But, after a silent moment, he tried to brush it off with a light laugh. “You’re joking. You’re just making an excuse so it doesn’t look like you accidentally locked yourself in a cell, silly little star-spirit.”

As much of a saving grace as that would be, you’d have rather accidentally locked yourself in the cell than be in this scary position. Life was easier when you were invisible, if you were being honest. Quietly, you argued, “But I’m not…”

“Prince Legolas, the King wishes to see you at once.”

The guard that suddenly called for Legolas, looked between you and the elven prince, which made Legolas understand you were being fully honest with your words. You really were locked in the dungeon under his father’s orders. Offended that such a thing happened to his best friend, he snapped, “What is this? Let them out.”

“My prince,” the guard stuttered, “The King does not allow-”

Legolas interrupted the guard’s argument, snatching the keys from his belt. The elf guard stood frozen, unable to argue or fight against Legolas. After all, it wasn’t like the King wouldn’t address this sooner or later.

Freeing you from your prison, Legolas no later shoved the key’s back into the flabbergasted guard’s hands. Taking your hand, Legolas offered you the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen on him. “Come, (Name). I think it’s time to introduce you properly.” Oh… Now you understood. Before… others couldn’t see you because Legolas wished it. He wanted you unseen… because if others could not see you then you couldn’t be taken away from him, could you? But now… he wasn’t afraid of you leaving him. More importantly… he wanted others to know that you were there, and that you were with him. Not for the first time, your cheeks flushed with heat as you smiled at your elven prince, proud to be at his side as, not a human, but as his star-spirit.

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr legolas #middle earth #mirkwood #lotr thranduil #the hobbit fanfic #lord of the rings fanfic #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf

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