#event: frozen peak incident

[imperishable-prayers]

“Gosh, climbing a mountain with just your feet really is hard…” Shia, you’re just slowly floating.

[imperishable-prayers]

"Ah..." This doesn't seem good.

Try as she might, her body could only compress through something like that so much. By the fourth time she tried, it hurt too much to actually compress. Thus, her limbs had to take a face full of ice-cold bullets.

She was knocked down! ...Before floating back up.

"Interesting... A fairy like you actually trapped me... Though, not in a way I've seen others do it..." She pondered, feeling her limbs. She felt as if they moved slower than usual... "...Alright, I guess you've earned it then. I'll shoot my bullets." She said.

"It is a somewhat recent shrine. It's understandable that you wouldn't know."

"I see..." By the time that the bullets got to her, her body swung around the lot of them like she was paper. True to her word, she hasn't shot a single bullet, focusing on dodging any bullets that came her way.

...It's sad that battles where she wishes not to shoot are very uneventful on her side.

[strawberry-smog]

Did Ford go through the portal in 1984?

Ok, so. If you’re in the Gravity Falls Timeline fandom, you know that, for an event that was strongly implied to have happened in 1982, there’s a surprising amount of evidence that Ford’s little portal accident happened in 1983, and that, even more surprisingly, one of the stronger pieces of evidence for this is the release date of Eurythmics’ single Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This). The song was released in January 1983 and was their first commercial success, just barely squeaking in under the wire to make Ford’s statement in the blacklight Journal 3 that he wants to hear the band’s “latest chart topper” make sense. Except… it still doesn’t?

While Sweet Dreams was first released in January 1983, this wasn’t a worldwide simultaneous release. Eurythmics was an extremely obscure British band, and the song didn’t come to America until May 1983 and didn’t peak at number one until September, both the wrong time in the year for the lake to be frozen. To be fair, the song hit number two in the UK in March and was played on Top of the Pops in February, so if you assume Ford is a British synthpop chart-watching superfan this still checks out, but we do have to consider that 1) Ford was being tormented by a demon 24/7 after McGucket’s portal incident, and was probably not in great shape to be intercepting UK TV signals and buying imported 8 tracks, and 2) Ford is a fake Eurythmics fan who always puts a “The” in front of their name even though the band is just “Eurythmics”.

The test happening in 1984 also helps make sense of a minor bit of show-journal timeline snarl, where McGucket in his memory gun tapes says that he’s been working with Ford “for the past year”. While this is just kind of obviously a retcon since he also calls Ford a “visiting researcher” despite him having lived in town way longer than McGucket, if you do try to incorporate the “year” thing into the timeline you hit a bit of a snag: McGucket arrived in July, and if this video depicts the first ever time he made the memory gun that would put it at most two months after his arrival, as the Gremloblin incident happened during the summer-fall fair season; even if you take it to be after he quit the project, this is still only a six-month timespan.

To have at least a year working on the portal, he would have to arrive in summer 1982, make the video in summer 1983, and then get his head stuck in the portal in winter 1984, which just so happens to also make sense of the Sweet Dreams thing, and from what I can tell doesn’t really conflict with anything else? The 29-years-and-several months timespan of Ford’s disappearance still makes sense to round up as thirty years, and while it makes McGucket’s assertion that he can’t remember anything prior to 1982 kind of weird, it is also kind of weird with the 1983 portal date, and there’s simply no way the portal incident could happen in 1982.

Here’s a bullet point list of the 1983 timeline vs. this 1984 timeline

1983 Portal Incident

1982

McGucket arrives on July 29th

He and Ford begin working on plans for the portal and go on their expedition to Crash Site Omega

The Gremloblin incident happens in August or September

McGucket creates his memory gun and begins recruiting for the Blind Eye shortly after, and possibly makes his first video recounting his experiments

The bunker is built and the Shifty incident happens, also still in August or September based on it being hot

Ford makes his deal to hand his body over to Bill sometime in the fall

Ford and McGucket defeat the Krampus on December 5th (Krampusnacht)

1983

The portal test happens on January 18th

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) comes out in the UK on January 23rd

Sweet Dreams reaches number 2 on the UK charts in February

Some unknown period of many weeks pass and Stan arrives in a snowstorm to push Ford into the portal

1984 Portal Incident

1982

McGucket arrives on July 29th

He and Ford begin working on plans for the portal and go on their expedition to Crash Site Omega

1983

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) comes out in the UK on January 23rd

Sweet Dreams reaches number 2 on the UK charts in February

Sweet Dreams comes out in America in May The Gremloblin incident happens in the summer or early fall

McGucket creates his memory gun and begins recruiting for the Blind Eye shortly after, and makes his first video recounting his experiments

The bunker is built and the Shifty incident happens, also still in summer or early fall based on it being hot

Sweet Dreams reaches number one on the US charts in September

Ford makes his deal to hand his body over to Bill sometime in the fall

Ford and McGucket defeat the Krampus on December 5th (Krampusnacht)

1984

The portal test happens on January 18th

Some unknown period of many weeks pass and Stan arrives in a snowstorm to push Ford into the portal

[coinnewz]

Fantom DeFi TVL Drops Following Exposure to Multichain

The cross-chain protocol Multichain experienced a major setback that has significantly disrupted decentralized finance (DeFi) activities on Fantom. Since the onset of Multichain’s issue in May, Fantom Foundation has been striving to reassure users about its association with the protocol. However, early indicators suggest that the problems with Multichain have severely affected Fantom’s DeFi operations, leading to asset depegging and projects shuttering their operations. DeFi Protocol Closes Operations, Assets Depeg Assets, such as Bitcoin, USDC, Ethereum, and various stablecoins bridged via Multichain on Fantom, have drastically depegged from their true values. Web3 Knowledge Graph Protocol 0xScope noted this discrepancy in early June, following the illicit transfer of $126 million in Multichain users’ funds to unidentified addresses. Most of the pilfered assets originated from the Fantom Bridge. 0xScope highlighted how traders were disposing of their Fantom-based stablecoins at a loss. One particular trader allegedly endured a loss of approximately $200,000. “Due to the Multichain freeze, people are selling stables (fUSDT, etc.) for FTM and depositing FTM to CEX to escape from the Fantom protocol! Fantom now trading at ~$0.7.” Read more: Top 10 Must Have Cryptocurrency Security Tips Multichain Depegged Assets on Fantom. Source: 0xScope The depegging of assets has especially impacted Geist Finance, a fork of Aave on Fantom. The decentralized liquidity market protocol has stated that the Multichain exploit has resulted in irreversible losses. This results from Multichain bridged assets now trading at only 22% of their actual value. “After confirmation from Multichain that the funds will not be recovered, we are announcing that Geist will not reopen. Because Chainlink oracles are tracking the value of real USDC, USDT, WBTC or ETH, they are not aware of the real value of Multichain assets,” explained Geist Finance. Andre Cronje, co-founder of Fantom Network, acknowledged the impact of the Multichain incident. He lamented that assurances of decentralization, geolocation distribution, and access given by the Multichain team proved false. “Multichain was a big blow… Don’t trust, verify (saying this to myself)…   looking into other backstops or helping recovery, even using foundation treasury. Until we have more data we just can’t give any hard confirmations. We won’t leave this as is though,” said Cronje. Cronje also pointed out that Fantom Foundation is coordinating with relevant parties to retrieve the lost assets. It confirmed contacting stablecoin issuers such as Circle, Tether, and TUSD. The Foundation asked these firms to freeze assets in Multichain wallets. “We have verified that approximately $60 million USDC and $2 million USDT have been frozen,” said the Fantom Foundation. Fantom’s Total Value Locked (TVL) Crashes As a result of these events and DeFi protocols shutting down operations, the total value of assets locked (TVL) on Fantom has plummeted. On-chain data from DeFiLlama shows that Fantom’s TVL has decreased by more than 80%, falling to $69.03 million from its May high of $364 million. Read more: Top 6 DeFi Lending Platforms Fantom DeFi TVL Since May. Source: DeFiLlama Fantom’s decentralized exchanges have also experienced a sharp decline in trading volume. Data from DeFiLlama indicates that the network’s average weekly volume throughout June was less than $100 million. Although there has been a slight increase in the first half of this month to over $200 million, this figure falls significantly short of its February 2022 peak of $5.2 billion. Disclaimer In adherence to the Trust Project guidelines, BeInCrypto is committed to unbiased, transparent reporting. This news article aims to provide accurate, timely information. However, readers are advised to verify facts independently and consult with a professional before making any decisions based on this content. Source link Read the full article

[gensokyohyakkiyako]

"Oh, don't worry about that. I already took care of that incident, the people up there aren't causing trouble anymore." And now there's another shrine maiden here too. Damn, Reimu has been out of the loop.

"Ah, but where are my manners? I'm Izumi, shrine maiden of the Inari Shrine near the Human Village. A pleasure to meet you~." She gives a polite bow.

"...

AH?????"

[magicalencanto]

⊹₊ ⋆ ❝ Frozen ❞ (Part 2)

✎ ⁞ Camilo Madrigal x Female! Reader with ice powers!

✎ ⁞ requested by @lillycore

✎ ⁞ A/N: I feel like I've accidentally modified the request, so I apologize for that. I also like to mention that this is more like a sad ending to the first part, so there'll some angsty feelings.

✎ ⁞ date: 27.12.2021

Have you ever wondered, what had happened to characters after you heard this line: "And they live happily ever after."? Did they truly lived happily ever after? Were they life a dream? Did they truly forgot about traumas, abuse and obstacles they had to go through while reaching their dreams?

If yes, then good for them. But you were a different case. You didn't forget what had happened. No, you couldn't forget. The events from the past week was still vivid in your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt like you turned back in time and was still stuck inside your frozen room. So cold and lonely...

❝ I was so cold...so so cold... ❞

Sitting on the floor, your back touching the base of your bed, you keep staring ahead of you, with this emotionless stare. The only difference was that your room wasn't covered in snow and ice and Encanto wasn't haunted by the harsh winter. Everything went back to normal. Or so it seemed.

Because you didn't feel normal. No, you weren't normal. With your new white hair and dull eyes, you stuck out like a sore thumb. Whenever you went outside, which happened only two times, people stared at you with pinch of fear in their eyes.

❝ They're afraid that I'll cause another winter... ❞ You thought numbly. Apathetic. That's what you had became. You couldn't bring yourself to care anymore. Why should you?

❝ Whether I'll use my powers or not, people will be still wary... ❞

Sometimes, people tried to take you out, especially after they had noticed that you started to isolate yourself from others. It wasn't anything big but still, they wanted to at least see you outside. Even when Camilo begged you to go on a date with him in your backyard, your answer was always the same: no. No, no and no. You won't risk it again.

❝ ... ❞

Everything around you was silent. The silence was so loud, it left a ringing sensation in your ears. But you didn't mind that. In fact, you welcomed it happily. To you, silence and darkness became new friends. That's why your room turned into a dark cave, where no one was allowed to enter. Not even your parents.

In your room, you felt the safest. In this silence and darkness, you were the safest. No one could hurt you there and you couldn't hurt anyone. Just like you originally wanted, before that incident.

And you were more than fine with staying inside for the rest of your life. At least you won't be a danger to the people around you.

❝ At least they'll be safe... ❞ By that you meant, your parents, towns people, the Madrigals and of course Camilo. 'They' were everyone.

And you? You didn't matter. Your chest stayed hollow as it was a week ago. Nothing had changed. With warmth that had saved you, your emotions and connections to the world melted with the ice, leaving only an empty shell behind.

A sound of you moving around cut through the silence like a fired bullet. Slowly, you stood up from the ground and even slower went closer to the covered window. Hesitantly, you reached for the curtain and grasped it tightly. A little frost appeared under your hand, as you moved the material to peak outside. A steak of light entered your dark room, 'cutting' your room in half.

Your emotionless eyes glanced outside, at happy people walking around and chatting with each other. They were acting like nothing had happened. Like everything was fine...

Your hold on the material tightened as the frost spread around the material even more. Having enough of this happy atmosphere, you let go of the curtain and watched as the material fully covered the window, coating the whole room in darkness once again.

Standing in the same place, you looked ahead of you, your head empty. And then, you heard a whisper...

❝ Poor thing... ❞

It was so quiet...

❝ ...all alone... ❞

...so smooth...

❝ ...so broken. ❞

... so cold.

You lifted your hands and glanced at them, feeling something familiar. The cold. The familiar cold traveled from the pads of your fingers to very end of your toes. But this time it wasn't unpleasant and destructive. It was refreshing and welcome.

❝ You aren't meant to be here... ❞

You're right.

❝ ... you're meant to be alone... ❞

Being alone makes me feel safe.

❝ ... somewhere where you can breathe... ❞

Somewhere far away from here.

❝ where you can be you. ❞

Where I can be me.

Still, looking at your hands, you looked as they turned into fists and a soft blue glow appeared around them and strated to travel from your fists to your arms, crawling towards your chest and then going down your hips to your legs, untill you were fully covered in that soft light.

Closing your tired eyes, you let yourself breathe. You let yourself go. You let yourself feel free. And when you opened them again, you were somewhere where you belonged. Somewhere far away from Encanto. Somewhere where you were alone.

Where you could fully be you.

❝ Show yourself, my queen... ❞

[haxorus-imp]

I’m new at this sort of thing but I was hoping to request some kind of Newton x reader except Newton is a really big fan of sfw physical affection (hand holding, hugging, kissing, etc) and they are spending time together and Newton simply cannot get enough. If not for any reason it’s alright, and I appreciate you not only taking the time to read this but also write super awesome stuff :D

I actually think this would fit his character, tbh! Newton gives me a really 'lonely child' vibe. Like, he lives in a big creepy home with a deemed 'crazy' mother. All alone. So he would love some affections from someone that isn't his doting mother. Great ask! -- Newton couldn't really imagine how he managed to find you in all of Bunkum. You, out of all sack people. How he managed to find someone so...tolerant, understanding, patient, and kind...he'll never know. He was probably just lucky if he could make a guess. Nothing in the imagisphere could compare to you....and he had you all to himself. Something that he would never ever take for granted. Even now, as you both lay on the grass in the fields of Needlepoint Peaks, he nuzzles into your fabric. Nearing a complete sense of total bliss as you stroke his bulb with such a gentle caress. Containing your giggles as he wraps his arms around you to draw you in closer. How did it all begin? Well after the Titan Incident, Newton was pretty much on clean up duty and had to reforge the shattered bond between him and Bunkum. Which was a tall order at the time, as a lot of negative press was generated about him during that time. Which made working with others...much harder than usual. Then, while he was cleaning up some of his mess with his family and accomplices...among the volunteers, a peculiar sackperson caught his eye. There in the crowd was a...unique and rather dashing sack person. They were helping sweep up debris and rebuild some broken structures some ways away from him. At that moment, time had stopped for Newton. He just...froze in place as he watched you work. The way you moved...the way your hair fell...the sweat you would wipe off your hard working body... Newton was stunned. He was only snapped out of his frozen state when his father got onto him for 'slacking'. But for the rest of the day, he couldn't help but take repeated peeks at you. Trying to subtly find out just...who that sack person he saw was. Back then, you were as cautious as everyone else in Bunkum. Newton knew that the ire and caution of the residents of Bunkum being directed to him was just-deserved...he did try and destroy them, after all. Well...his possessed self did. But in the eyes of everyone else, they were the same person. Which didn't bode well for Newton most of the time. But that didn't stop him from trying to get close to you or to find out something about you. But with a couple of clumsy run-ins, failed attempts to impress you, and a couple of accidental...well...accidents, you finally started to tolerate Newton enough to challenge those that still saw him as a titan-puppet. Eventually...Newton made a friend. A genuine friend. Someone that vouched for him, spoke up for him, and listened to him and his side of the titan story. It was...such an amazing feeling to finally be HEARD. To be seen as something other than a troublemaking failure of an inventor. You both stayed close, even when most of the repairs of Bunkum were finished. During those times, you were invited over to Stitchem Manor so many times than Newton could count...and you showed up every single time. You never left him hanging or out of the loop. You included him in your personal events and even encouraged him to keep pursuing his dreams despite all the drawbacks. You were both a balancer and an encourager. You were his rock and his sky. You were always there when he needed somebody to vent to and you listened to all of his woes. His worries. His insecurities. His traumas. His self hatred. You listened to it all and comforted him every time he collapsed in on himself. You were always there to pick him up. You were the support he needed for so long. Pretty soon...Newton realized that just being friends wasn't enough. It didn't take a clever inventor to find out if someone is in love...and Newton got it...BAD. He was practically lovesick and couldn't stop thinking about you for even a minute. He wanted to confess...but he didn't want to ruin what you had between you two. He struggled with internal

conflicts for a while. Arguing with himself about your position in his personal life. But the days dragged on and the strength of his love grew ever stronger. Newton eventually started to struggle with CONTAINING his emotions, as they would leak out from time to time. This would range from mere compliments to giving you random gifts of things he knew you liked. Finally, you pretty much caught onto his shifty behavior and Newton finally exploded into a word-confessing waterfall. Admitting everything that he was feeling. All the warmth in his chest, the fuzzy internal feelings, the butterflies in his belly, and the thoughts of you plaguing his mind. He finished his bout with a verbal expression of his desire to become more than just friends. Newton couldn't really face you while he practically vomited out his confession in a slew of rushed words. He didn't want to look at you to see your reaction, if he was to face rejection now, he would probably break into tiny pieces. Like fragile glass. He kept his gaze low to the ground. Hiding his eyes underneath his egg-timer bowler hat. He expected everything. Rejection. Laughter. An awkward cough...just anything! Yet, something different and not quite as expected came his way. Instead of a roar of laughter, uncomfortable silence, or even a unimpressed huff, Newton felt your knitted hand reach out and touch the side of his bulb. Then a slight force of that hand pulled his sagging head up. Shortly after that, he senses a soft feeling of something pressing against his bulb-like face. Newton quickly refocuses his attention back onto you, now processing what was happening. You were giving him a kiss... YOU WERE GIVING HIM A KISS!? Newton allowed his eyes to widen in surprise as you pull back to look into his brightened optics. You let out a low cheeky chuckle before leaning in again and pressing your knitted lips to his wire. Giving him his first ever legitimate kiss. Newton felt sparks fly and his heartrate rapidly increased. Then...there was pure euphoria. Newton Pud, the once touch-starved inventor wannabe...was being kissed by the sackperson he adored...something went right for him for once. He melted into the kiss. Despite his lack of lips, Newton allowed the warmth of his light to mix in with the presence of your lips. As if he was giving you a ghost of a kiss in his own way. Those butterflies in his stomach took flight and lifted him into an imaginary sky...and Newton never felt so high. It was...amazing. Breathtaking. Pure euphoria. It was all he ever wanted...and it was all he ever needed. He just wanted to be loved. Newton pretty much fell totally in love with you after that. Any chance he got to take your hand or to give you a hug or a kiss...he took it, greedily. It was like bodily contact was a personal drug that he couldn't get enough of. Eventually, you both had hooked up and regardless of what others thought, you stayed with him. Making sure to keep him within arms reach and to stay in one another's' presence while out in public. His parents were happy for Newton. Finally, he had a reliable person to go to and help watch over him. There was also the offhand comment from Nana Pud about grandchildren, but Newton always ushered him and his lover out of the room while his father laughs at their expense. Regardless of the slight embarrassing comments, you and Newton decided to make a new life together. With most of the clean up of Bumkum done, regular cuddle sessions are a must between you two. Even now that you both have been together for a few weeks, Newton still loves and adores to be held and comforted. Just like what you two were doing right now in the present day. With him resting on your lap and you softly petting his bulb and allowing him to cuddle with you as much as he wanted. In the end, Newton was happy and he couldn't ask for a better partner to look after him and be by his side. Besides. Who needs the popit academy to create something? You both created something wonderful together...and the best part? Neither of you had to share this wonderful thing with anyone else.

[trinketcrow]

Ok @threebooksoneplot here are my entires for Dark Noon! There are 5 options so read ahead for the breakdown…

Option 1, THE PAPERCUT™ also known as The Inciting Incident of New Moon/Dark Noon, pretty self explanatory, Edward still lusts for Bella’s blood and is haunted by this event which sparked more danger for her, he’s probably in his Rio dirty crawl space eating rats thinking about Bella’s papercut over and over again. Also the later allusion to her being his blood singer - 10/10 symbolism boi

Option 2, The bloody birthday candle 🩸 🕯️ gives peak birthday party trauma, looks ominous and horror movie vibes, harkens back to the plots inciting incident again!

Option 3, THE CLOCK TOWER! The ominous Volterra clock tower about the strike 12 as Edward lingers in the shadows before his impending attempt to unalive himself…Dark Noon much? Illuminated with the red full moon behind - spooky and intense, I love it

Option 4, A frozen rose for G, since you liked the idea of wintery nature so much - I thought this harkens back to Romeo and Juliet a rose by any other name!

Option 5, Cerberus guardian of the underworld! Since Midnight Sun has all the Hades/Persephone parallels, I thought Dark Noon would represent Hades (Edward) cast back to the underworld alone, the vicious symbolism behind cerberus’s growling faces highlights the dark and hopeless mood and also foreshadows the wolves 🐺

I’m gonna email you guys with my contact deets/name/pronouns! Love your pod I hope y’all choose meeeeeee

calling all terrible (and good) artists and designers: 3B1P is hosting a New Moon alternate book cover contest!

Design an alternate cover for our fake New Moon retellings Dark Noon (Edward's POV) and/or Euphoria and [Something] (Beau's POV) and win the chance to name a character in Dark Noon!

Submit your alternate covers by posting them to tumblr and tagging @threebooksoneplot OR attach the file in an email to threebooksoneplot@gmail.com (any dimensions, jpeg or png, please)

Include your name/pronouns and a way to contact you if your entry is chosen!

Multiple entries ARE allowed (this is a free-for-all, go nuts)

Your entry can be as silly or as "realistic" as you like—we may end up dividing into silly/serious categories depending on the number of entries

deadline to submit covers is midnight EST on October 9th, 2023. Happy designing!

Three Books One Plot is a Twilight podcast with a twist: we simultaneously read Life and Death and Midnight Sun! This season: watch us boldly go where Stephenie Meyer feared to tread as we continue Life and Death and Midnight Sun into the New Moon era. More info here.

[imperishable-prayers]

"Good day, please abi-"

An immediate swing of her claws towards the barrier-protected witch. It didn't penetrate through the barrier, but she kept swinging.

"HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT-"

"My, my... What a feisty one this girl is." She giggled.

"MARISA, I SWEAR TO EVERY SINGLE GOD THAT'S ABOVE ME--"

[valhallanrose]

Show Your Fangs

After years of feeling aimless, Astoria finds an unexpected avenue to reassert control. 

You can find the rest of the Cursetaker arc of Astoria’s story here. 

3.9k words. CW for attempted manipulation. 

Title: Show Your Fangs by The Crane Wives

On the eve of their twentieth birthday, Astoria found themself climbing into the rigging of the Moorish Lady, thighs locked firmly around the rope and hair ripping free of its haphazard bun to dance in the breeze that made the sails grow full. The sky was starry overhead, the moon broad and full, and not a cloud blocked their light as they were guided back to Rosinmoor. 

At this vantage, they could see the peaks of Castle Kintyre, the colors of the stained glass windows melting together into hues of rose and gold from the distance they were at now. Idly, they wondered if their family was waiting in the great hall to meet them before they sat down for dinner. 

Castle Kintyre had seemed so big the first time they left. And rationally, they knew that was simple perception - of course it would have seemed literally bigger when they themself had been smaller in stature, but it was somewhat amusing all the same. The Whitethorn Citadel was perhaps the same size, if they had to hazard a guess, but...this had been their world, once. A life behind stone walls, in rolling fields and on rocky cliffs, on stone beaches and crystal lakes - a life that had once seemed utterly satisfying was as peaceful as it was positively boring.

Funny to think how big the world had gotten when they had the opportunity to see it all. 

“...toria!”

They were pulled from their musing when a voice, somewhat swept away by the wind, managed to reach their ears. Astoria shifted their grip on the rope, looking down at the deck to see their grandmother standing far below with a somewhat amused look on her face. 

“Are you really going to make me climb up there?” Myrna called playfully, tapping her cane on the deck a few times. “I’d love to, but I’ve only got one good knee, and I’d like to keep it that way for at least another ten years.” 

Astoria cracked a smile, carefully unwinding the rope that had been wrapped around their right leg and letting out a small gasp as they dropped down faster than they’d anticipated. 

With a huff and a gloved hand raked through their hair, they began the descent down, sliding slowly as to keep control, until they were perhaps three feet off the ground and could simply let go and let their boots thump firmly on the deck in front of Myrna. 

“Time to go?”

“Soon, dear.” Myrna sighed, offering her arm to Astoria, to which they set their hand in the crook of her arm and frowned as they fell into step beside her. 

“Why do I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going, granny?”

Myrna leaned against the side of the ship, smoothing silver curls behind her ear as she gazed out over the Strait of Seals. Neither of them paid mind to the crew, who began to prep the ship for it to pull into the inlet at the base of the Cliffs of Balgaire, knowing that they both would be more likely to be in the way than helpful on a journey at night and respectfully staying out of their way. 

“You know I’ve been writing Malvina.” She began, and Astoria nodded, folding her arms across their chest and tilting their head back to look up at the sky. 

Despite no longer being clan head, Malvina was well involved in the background of Canonach affairs - Astoria remembered clearly the days that the matriarch had joked that she had her nose so tied to clan affairs she’d be buried with it poking out of the ground to sniff out gossip.

With Astoria’s permission, Myrna had written to her not long after their enrollment at the Citadel, detailing as much as she could to explain what had happened in the weeks prior to keep someone in the family in the loop. And for all Malvina loved gossip, a secret laid with her would be locked up as tight as a vault should you ask to keep it that way. Not even her wife, Lorraine, would be privy to such a request - an agreement that Lorraine knew at least meant something was serious. 

“I do. She’s written to me a few times - sent me new gloves for my birthday.” Astoria wiggled their fingers subconsciously, the leather of the gloves in question already molded to their hands like a second skin. “Is she alright?”

Myrna chuckled, Astoria catching her nod out of her peripheral. “Oh, she’s fine. Lorraine caught a nasty fever a few weeks ago, but they’re both right as rain. But...Malvina’s kept things quiet, as you asked. I wanted to ask you if you plan to tell the family while you’re home, or if we should continue to keep this between us for the time being. Whatever your decision, I respect it, but I would like to walk in and be on the same page as you before we face the rest of them.”

Astoria was quiet for a long, long moment, closing their eyes and letting the calls of the crew fill the gap between them before they managed to muster up the words they wanted. 

“I haven’t been home since I was fifteen, if I remember right. Before Bulan. I’d like at least one last week where I know things will be normal.” Slowly, Astoria reached up, gathering their hair in both hands and refastening their lazy knot at the nape of their neck - letting their hands fall to rest on the sides of their neck as they glanced back to Myrna. 

“Those first days in Galbrada...I had to repeat myself so many times, tell my story so many times, be picked at and interrogated and smothered so many times. I love my family, but I have no doubt it will be a repeat of that all over again.”

Myrna nodded slowly, turning to rest her back against the railing and folding her hands over the silver-wrought handle of her cane. “I thought that might be the case. Still, I just wanted to be sure. You’ve got a knack for surprising me, my little rascal.” 

Astoria laughed as Myrna threw an arm around their waist, dragging them into an embrace and smiling as they pressed their face to the crown of Myrna’s head and buried their nose in her curls. 

They would remain like that until the Moorish Lady finally came to a stop at the shores, and together, they took the first steps onto dry land - the first steps on the soil of their home. 

*     *     *     *     *

Coming back was...eventful. 

By the time Myrna and Astoria had made it up to Castle Kintyre, the hour was late, and though the family had already eaten - Myrna and Astoria had been unsure when during the day they’d arrive exactly - they were happy to linger and chat while the visiting Canonachs raided the kitchens for leftovers. 

Many of the youngest cousins had gone to bed by the time they’d arrived, as well as some of the more daytime inclined relatives (Myrna grumbled about her own twin being a wuss for going to bed before the clock struck twelve) who would likely receive word of their arrival by morning.

Astoria did not miss the gap left by Senga, or their step-father, James, both of whom had apparently been perfectly lively until the Moorish Lady was spotted by a scout, but they couldn’t find it in themself to care. Their mother had a habit of making herself scarce when Myrna came to visit. Their grandmother was the embodiment of ‘hell hath no fury’, and Astoria vividly remembered the thorough reaming her mother was given after the incident in the library all those years ago. 

It’d been kept largely quiet among the family - only Myrna, Senga, Astoria, and Malvina knew the whole story - but gods if it didn’t make the holidays tense. 

Still, Astoria felt light as they left the hall, filled with joy for seeing their family again and looking forward to the following morning - they’d already received many early birthday wishes - when they’d get to see the rest of them over a traditional Moorish breakfast. The day had been long, as had the journey, and they were looking forward to crashing in the comfort of their bed and letting sleep claim them. 

The way to their bedroom was muscle memory no matter how long they’d been gone. Down the hall, to the left, shortcut through the lounge, nestled in the corner with two broad windows looking out over the grounds toward the Frozen Sea and the twinkling lights of Rosafearn in the distance. Absolutely the best room in the castle - it had been Astor’s, once, until he explicitly stated the only person who would take over the space would be Astoria. It’d long since been painted and redecorated, but the old armchair set by the window had been his and would remain there until it crumbled the next time Astoria put their ass in it. 

They closed the bedroom door behind them with a tired sigh, reaching to undo the buttons of their blouse as they strode across the room - 

Only for the light to click on unbidden and a voice greeted Astoria from across the room. 

“Hello, Catriona.”

Astoria yelped, scrambling to clasp their shirt together as Senga leveled them with a cool stare that somehow made them feel more naked than they actually were. 

“Bloody - hell are you sitting there in the dark like that for?” They breathed, trying to calm themself as Senga folded her hands neatly in her lap and held Astoria’s gaze. 

Astoria always knew they had their father’s eyes - somewhere between blue and green, depending on who was looking - but Senga’s had always been like ice. Pale, pale blue, almost white, and absolutely unnerving when she looked at you like you were something to be gained. 

Something in her eyes made Astoria think they were, to her, the greatest prize of all. 

“This is my home, I have every right to be where I please. Is it so wrong that I wished to spend a few moments with my child?” She asked, smoothing the single silver curl she had behind her ear and uncrossing her legs. 

“...no, I suppose not.” Astoria murmured, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed nearest to her and buttoning their shirt back up as Senga leaned forward in her seat. “How are you, mother?”

“Peachy, darling, absolutely peachy.” She reached for a sheaf of paper on the coffee table, leafing through the pages idly as she spoke, cutting straight to the point when she looked back up and offered them to Astoria. “You know, I’m hurt you never wrote to me once while you were away. You wrote to Malcolm, for birthdays, and you wrote to your cousins a few times...and Malvina. Oh, you wrote so many times to Malvina, you and my mother. I’m counting, what, thirty letters since you went to Galbrada?”

Astoria’s heart dropped like a stone into their stomach as Senga tutted, throwing the papers back on the table when Astoria didn’t reach to take them. She rose from Astor’s armchair, skirts sweeping across the rugs until she had Astoria’s chin grasped tenderly between her fingers and forced them to meet her gaze. 

“Why would you hide something like this from me, darling?” Senga crooned, tucking a bit of hair behind Astoria’s ear. “You know you can tell me anything. We don’t keep secrets from family, remember? Secrets lead to strife among us.”

Astoria tried to turn their head away, but Senga’s grip tightened on their jaw, even if her sickly sweet tone didn’t change. 

“You could have come home to Rosinmoor so much sooner. The Argyllians have always had magic in their bloodline, they were more than capable of teaching you whatever you could have learned in the Republic. They would have taken you in, taught you the ways of the court...no matter. What’s done is done. We have much to catch you up on.”

Senga released their jaw suddenly, reaching to smooth out their collar and straighten their shirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Do get some rest, darling. You’ll need it. I invited some friends of mine to visit tomorrow. They’ll begin teaching you the ways of the court, catch you up on the who’s who and the what’s what - several courtiers from different clans to bring you up to speed on each. It’ll be a process, surely, but you’re a quick study, otherwise I’ve no idea why you spent all this time with my mother. They’ll be here for about two weeks, so you’ll have to learn as much as you can before they go, and then your lessons will start to keep you on track.”

Astoria paused then, brows furrowing as Senga began to dig in their wardrobe to rifle through the clothing that was too stiff and formal for them to cart around while they were globetrotting. 

“Mother, I’m only here until the end of the week.” They said, voice trembling slightly as Senga paused mid examination of a blouse with broad lace sleeves. “Granny and I have a dig to go to in the Fennekh Desert at the end of the month, I can’t stay much longer than that. I just wanted to see everyone while we had the time.”

The tension between them both was so thick you could have bitten it.

Astoria flinched when Senga took one step closer, then another, until she was right in front of them with that lacy blouse draped neatly over her arm. 

“I know what you did in Galbrada.” She said softly, tilting her head as she looked down at Astoria. “A room of people - three of the best minds and magicians of the Whitethorn Citadel, and your bull of a grandmother - frozen by the blood in their own bodies at your command. Deny it all you wish, Catriona, but we both know it’s true.”

They tried to speak, but Senga’s voice rose, silencing them in a moment and making them flinch back as she stepped closer. Already being interrupted made them flush with irritation, but they bit their tongue, hoping that Senga would tire herself out in the end if they just let her keep ranting.

“Do you understand what that power can mean for you? The Canonach seat was always your birthright and it always will be, that won’t change. But you could become the greatest of all of us if you choose not to suppress it like you’ve been told all this time. That kind of power is strength, darling, a strength that will protect this clan so long as you hold the Barony.”

Astoria took another step back, feeling their hip bump the edge of their nightstand and quickly moving to fix the lamp as Senga advanced on them. They felt heat building in their chest, like a kettle on the stove, but they tried to tamp it down until their back hit the broad pane of glass that looked out into the starry sky.

“It is time for you to grow up. You will be twenty tomorrow morning, and it is time to stop gallivanting about carefree when you have duties to fulfill. I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long, I should have demanded you come home after Myrna supported that first year of your little temper tantrum.” Senga’s hand snapped out, grabbing their chin and forcing them to look her in the eye as her fingers dug into their cheeks. “Do you hear me, Catriona?”

Something...something snapped in Astoria then, and their own hand shot up, grabbing Senga’s wrist and ripping it away from their face with a strength they didn’t know they had. 

“If you’re going to address me, mother, at least give me the respect of calling me by the name I’ve called myself for as long as I can remember.” Astoria spat, shoving her hand away and stepping to the side to try to work themself out of the corner they’d been physically backed into. “You’ve weaponized ‘Catriona’ every time I did something you didn’t like, every time you wanted me to bow to your whims and sit pretty like the perfect child you pretended you had.”

“How dare you -”

“How dare you treat your own child as you have treated me all these years?!” Astoria shrieked, voice breaking slightly as Senga seemed to freeze in place at their outburst. “How dare you make my cooperation a condition I had to fulfill to earn your love, make me feel like I had to prove myself over and over to you to earn scraps of respect?”

Senga’s face flushed, and she turned, tossing the blouse onto Astoria’s bed and moving toward the bedroom door. “I’m not going to speak with you if you want to behave like this. We can talk in the morning when you’ve calmed down.”

Before she’d even reached the door, Astoria had moved in front of it, flipping the lock and positioning themself in front of the mechanism so Senga couldn’t leave.

“No. No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to run away because you don’t like what you’re hearing. For once in my life you’re going to open your ears and listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.”

Their blood was boiling, so hot through their veins that Astoria thought they were going to burn up, but the words kept spilling over faster than they considered putting a damper on them. And they didn’t want to, if they were honest with themself. It was the first time they spoke unfiltered to Senga, truly voiced how they felt, and it felt...it felt like flying. It felt like they had control for the first time in years, and they weren’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet. 

“You said that the primary reason you even had me was so I could take the barony one day.”

Senga’s eyes rolled, and Astoria’s temper flared as she dismissively waved a hand. “You’re still on about that? Come now, let bygones be bygones. That was years ago.”

“I am not nearly done speaking.” Astoria said firmly, holding a hand up to stop Senga before she could continue. “But yes, I am ‘still on about that’, as you put it. I’ll carry those words in my mind for as long as I breathe, because it was what made me open my eyes to the truth of things. You don’t own me, my life, or my freedom for as long as I am strong enough to bite back. My temper tantrum, as you called it, was the first choice I ever made for myself without fearing what you’d say to me when I told you. And I learned from that choice, and every choice I made after, that you can do nothing to me if I don’t allow it. You are too selfish to consider a reality in which your plans fall through, thinking your way is the best way regardless of what I want.”

“If you cared about something beyond yourself you’d have seen in those letters how I told Malvina about my nightmares, about my fears, about how I felt like I was losing myself until I learned to control my magic rather than force it outward. But you only had eyes for what you thought you could stand to gain, what you thought I could give you, not my own well-being or my opinions on the matter. I’ve made it clear for years that I never wanted the barony, and the power that I have won’t change that. You don’t have to accept it, but understand it’s the way things are. Understand that I’ll take no more of this. You are no family of mine, Baroness, and you never will be if I have anything to say about it.”

Senga reached out, as if to touch their cheek, but Astoria dodged her hand and raised an arm to gesture for her to stay back. “Blood is thicker than water, Astoria. No matter what you say, you cannot possibly abandon your family so easily.”  

“I prefer an alternative interpretation. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb - the bonds in the family I choose are stronger than those that are given by birth. And I choose Myrna, who has been more my mother than you ever have been. I choose to find a family who will love me for me, who won’t attach conditions to their acceptance and approval, who see me as I am and expect nothing more than Astoria Fenharrow, lover of bones and dirt and other things long since dead."

Astoria reached behind them and turned the lock again, opening the door just as the grand hall clock began to toll midnight and gesturing to the empty hall. 

“Now get the hell out. Your house it may be, but it’s my goddamn bedroom.”

Senga opened her mouth to argue, but Astoria was already walking across the room, picking up the letters they’d sent to Malvina and tossing them into the cold hearth with every intention to use them as kindling for the cool summer night. She turned on her heel, and just as she took a few steps out into the hall, Astoria called out to her again with their tone clipped.  

“Oh, and one more thing?”

Senga paused just beyond the doorway, looking back over her shoulder -

Something in Astoria’s face made her freeze then, going so pale it was like she’d seen a ghost. 

“You lay a hand on me again without my consent, and I swear I will make sure you no longer have one.”

The door fell shut as Senga disappeared down the hall, and Astoria let out a trembling sigh, hands shaking as they peeled off their gloves to toss them on the table. They ran a hand through their hair, looked up to gaze in the mirror mounted above the hearth -

And then startled when they looked into their own eyes and met red, red, red irises that stared right back. Astoria took a few steps closer, removing their glasses and letting the chain catch them against their chest when they raised a hand to their eyes.

Sclera, black as night, making scarlet irises seem to glow as they looked back at their reflection and blinked a few times. They moved to wet their lips and froze when their tongue slid over a canine that definitely hadn’t been that sharp before, and with a cautious finger, pushed their lip up to look at the teeth behind it. 

They had...fangs. 

“Look at that.” They muttered, blinking a few more times and watching with intrigue as their eyes faded back to familiar white and turquoise and their teeth seemed to almost...retract, as if they’d never been fangs at all. Logically they knew they should be terrified, but they were high on adrenaline, and they gave their reflection a bit of a smile despite themself. They weren’t afraid - they thought it strange, surely, but at this point, strange was the name of the game. 

“Guess mother knows I can bite back after all.”

[calenheniel]

Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part II

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They met as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths meet again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Part I | Updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Author’s Note: So grateful for the overwhelming response to Part I, published during Helsa Week 2020! In this chapter, I try to do justice to what Disney glossed over in the original film with a snappy montage: Elsa’s childhood, adolescence, and burgeoning adulthood in the face of trauma and isolation. As a result, I imagine that a slightly different young woman emerged from these circumstances than the one portrayed onscreen. Hope you enjoy.

»»————-　❈　————-««

II.

Years passed before the girl thought seriously again about the story of the boy who could make fire.

In the weeks and months following the prince’s departure, certain things about him lingered on in her memory – his unpredictable temperament, his ever-present frown, and his oddly warm, gloved hands – but most of all, his strange story continued to puzzle her young mind.

She and her sister pantomimed it again and again during their playtimes, pretending that the young prince was still in the room, reciting the tale aloud to them. She had told her sister the ending he had related to her before setting sail, and though she still found it suspect, it made for easier and more pleasant theater than the original one.

Inevitably, his absence could not be ignored, and they spoke of him less and less. They moved on to new games and new stories that could be acted out using the older sister’s talents, which had only grown stronger and more impressive with time. Their favorite remained building snowmen together, and they learned to keep a hidden stockpile in their rooms of carrots, coals, and twigs with which they could decorate her creations.

It was during one such occasion, two years after the boy’s visit, that their regular routine went awry.

In the midst of creating one snow peak after the other for her younger sister to jump onto, the older girl slipped, accidentally striking her sibling in the head with her magic. In the panic that ensued, the girls were brought by their parents to a mountain forest filled with strange and frightening stone trolls, who warned that the older girl’s magic would only become more powerful as she aged… and more uncontrollable, as well.

The trolls used their own magic to remove the girl’s powers from her sister’s memories, though they did not alter them otherwise. Afraid of her own strength and what other horrors it might inflict, she could not stop them from casting their spell, nor her parents from making a solemn vow to keep her locked away thereafter in the castle.

Upon their return, the staff were reduced by half and the gates locked as they sought to keep her safe—and to keep others safe from her. Where once she was only asked to keep her magic secret from those outside of family, she was now asked to keep it a secret even from her younger sister. Though the burden was great, the original incident had left her sister with a streak of white hair: a permanent reminder to the older girl of what her magic had done. As a result, she could hardly bring herself to look at her sister, much less speak to her or share her deepest secrets, without feeling shame.

Conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show, her father would repeat to her in her darkest moments, taking her hands in his. Eventually she began to whisper it to herself without his encouragement, integrating the mantra into her evening prayers.

The sisters’ separation devastated their once close bond, with the older girl locking herself in her room for hours at a time and only leaving if absolutely necessary. She took all of her lessons, and even many of her meals, alone; during spells in which she refused to leave, her parents even brought her stacks of books to read to keep her occupied in her isolation. When she could no longer stand to be by herself, they would come to her room and read to her, though she tried to keep some distance from them.

Her younger sister protested these special allowances at first, and continued to knock on the older girl’s door every night with confidence that she would have to answer and come out to play again at some point. After a year or more of these thwarted attempts, however, she finally gave up trying to see her sister outside of certain prescribed events. She played alone in their favorite haunts of the castle – the library, the garden, the gallery – and took to speaking to the portrait of Joan of Arc for hours on end.

The older girl watched her sister with sometimes unbearable grief, tempted more than once to just open the door and resume playtime as usual. However, the memory of the younger girl laying on the floor of the gallery unconscious, her hair newly painted white, quickly quashed these temptations.

Only once in the year that followed did her desire to be reunited with her sister create cause for concern.

It was a beautiful summer day of blue skies and lush greens, and the girl looked longingly out her bedroom window at the bustling town outside the castle walls. Just inside of them, she watched as her mother and younger sister smelled and pruned roses in the garden, their smiles wide and full of warmth.

The girl’s hands tightened, and without realizing it, ice spread out from them, freezing the windowsill. She gasped and backed away, then began to cry, calling out for her father. When he arrived and saw what she had done, he sighed, holding her in his arms.

It’s all right, Elsa, he said, and stroked her hair. I’ll take care of you.

She continued to sob into his shirt until she fell asleep against him. When she awoke, she found herself on her bed, and her father stoking a fire in the hearth of her room. She rubbed her eyes groggily, and then made her way towards him, confused.

Was I asleep for a long time? she asked, squinting at the window. The ice on the sill was gone. Is it nighttime already?

Yes, my dear, her father replied, and wiped any remaining traces of tears from her face, resting the poker back against the hearth. And that’s all right. You needed sleep. He knelt down to her level, and from his jacket pocket retrieved a folded handkerchief. But I have a special gift for you.

He unfolded the cloth to reveal a pair of leather gloves. The gloves will help, he told her, slipping them, one after the other, onto each of her small hands. See? You’re good.

The girl stared at her covered hands, and something in her memories stirred, as if waking from a deep sleep.

So his parents told him couldn’t use his powers anymore…

Conceal it, her father began, waiting for her to say the next part.

She complied. Don’t feel it.

He smiled, and they finished together. Don’t let it show.

…and they made him special gloves that wouldn’t let his fire hurt anyone ever again.

The girl’s hands were colder than ever inside of the gloves, and she shuddered.

»» —— ««

She wore her gloves dutifully every day after that, and even slept in them at night.

When she was due for her first bath after they were given to her, she screamed and cried when her mother tried to coax her into taking them off, and then froze the bath water when they were finally removed. She believed they had some special powers that could contain her magic like the ones in the boy’s story, and so her mother relented, instructing the servants to allow the girl to wear the gloves, even while bathing.

It was a month before she tired of wearing them, hating the way the leather shrunk when wet. She paced nervously the whole night with them off, afraid that some great calamity would befall her and her family. But when the evening passed and daylight arrived to her room, illuminating its familiar, unfrozen features, she was pacified, and took to only wearing the gloves during the daytime. Newly confident, she became a little more sociable with her family, accepting their invitations to family dinners and even taking a lesson with her sister on occasion.

Sometimes, though, when she looked at the gloves at night, she remembered the next lines of the boy’s story – the boy’s fire burned through the gloves, and he was so upset from being lonely and scared all the time that his fire spread and burnt down everything else – and the memory made her shiver so much that she would clutch them to her chest, hoping that her gloves were different from his.

On one evening shortly after her twelfth birthday, she was following her usual bedtime routine – reading, reciting some poems out loud to her fireplace, and writing stories until she fell asleep at her desk – when she was startled by the sound of the wind outside whipping against her window. It was so loud, in fact, that she imagined it was crying out to her, begging her to be let in. The shrieks and howls became a mournful song, and she walked towards the window as if in a trance, turning the locks up as she imagined nature’s will commanding her to do so.

As soon as the window was unlocked, the wind blew it open so forcefully that the girl was thrown back onto the ground. She cried out in pain and winced against the gale, picking herself up with effort. She pushed hard against the window until it shut back onto its frame, and finally locked it again.

She panted as she closed her eyes and pressed her back to it, sliding down to the floor below in a heap. As she did, she noticed that the carpet beneath her was cold—as cold as if it had been frozen solid. She patted it with her hands in a fright, and then opened her eyes, staring at the wall opposite with paled features.

A trail of ice led from her seat below the window to that wall, covering it almost entirely in strange fractal patterns. She nearly slipped as she ran to it, placing her hands against them.

… and he was so upset from being lonely and scared all the time that his fire spread and burnt down everything else.

The girl gasped at the sight of her still-gloved hands on the wall, and she shut her eyes tightly, banging her fists against it until she screamed.

Her cries summoned her parents to her room, and she turned to them when they entered, clutching her hands to her chest. I’m scared, she said, sniffling. Moonlight bathed her figure, casting a long shadow on the frozen wall behind her. It’s getting stronger.

Her father’s gaze was tender, but pained. Getting upset only makes it worse, he reminded her, moving to hug her.

No, she snapped, backing away from him. Don’t touch me. I don’t want to hurt you.

He stepped back and exchanged a mournful look with the girl’s mother. His head fell to his chest. I understand, Elsa. But… he paused, taking a moment to kneel down to her level. Please don’t push us away. We just want to keep you safe.

The girl’s lip trembled at her father’s words, tears pricking at her eyes, but she blinked them back. She bowed her head to her parents, saying nothing, and did not move again until her parents agreed to leave.

Once they were gone, she went to the fireplace, intending to imitate her father by stoking the flames—but the fire had long since been extinguished, the remnants of the wind’s chill hanging in the air.

»» —— ««

Many years passed in this fashion, one after the other, until the girl forgot what life was like outside of the castle walls, or even outside the walls of her own bedroom.

Although she knew the gloves could not contain her magic, she continued to wear them. The original ending of the story of the boy who could make fire haunted her, and she feared what might happen if she discarded the gloves for good. At times, she could even will herself into believing that they had special powers again, and for a while this belief was enough to keep her magic at bay, and pacify her thoughts.

Nevertheless, she remained adamant in her refusal of her parents’ embraces, as well as the touch of anyone else. She insisted on building her own fires in her bedroom, and on bathing and clothing herself, limiting contact with the servants as much as possible. Her previous willingness to take the occasional meal or lesson with her sister likewise died away, and she returned to her practice of self-isolation, making exceptions only for her parents’ visits.

On one such visit during an early afternoon of her eighteenth year, sunlight streamed into the room from the window as they entered. She curtsied, her lips pursing with concern as she lifted her gaze to meet theirs.

Do you have to go? she asked. Her gloved hands knit together in front of her.

Her father sighed. You’ll be fine, Elsa, he said, and put on a half-smile to reassure her. We’ll only be gone for two weeks. And you can write to us while we’re away. He glanced at the ink stains on her white gloves for emphasis, and she looked down, blushing. We’ll look forward to reading your letters.

Yes, her mother echoed. You must write to us, every day.

The girl – now a young woman – bowed her head, and smiled in spite of her trepidation. I will, she promised.

Her mother smiled, and then glanced at her father’s pocket watch. Oh, dear—we really must be going, she murmured, touching his shoulder.

I’ll be with you in a moment, my love, he replied, and she nodded as she left the room, blowing a small kiss to her daughter before she left. The young woman curtsied again in response.

Her father waited until the door had shut, and then turned to her with a more serious look. Don’t be afraid, Elsa, he said. We are counting on you to be strong while we’re away—for yourself, and for Anna.

The mention of her sister made the young woman redden, and she looked down, her voice shaking as she spoke. It’s hard, Papa, she whispered, but I’ll try.

He smiled sadly at her, and began the refrain. Remember, dearest—conceal.

Her nose and forehead wrinkled, and she swallowed a grimace. Don’t feel, she continued.

Don’t let it show, they said together.

And with that, he pressed a kiss to his fingers, and then to the air, sending it to her; the young woman plastered on a smile, catching the kiss in her hand and bowing to her father as he left the room.

She sat by her window for the rest of the afternoon, watching anxiously as her parents embraced her sister on the path to the gates, and then with even greater unease as they were escorted through the gates by the guards, walked to the docks, and boarded the ship with their luggage.

They waved to her sister from afar, and then at her window, as the gangplank was drawn back onboard, the ship ready to set sail. She imagined herself bounding up to them as she had to the young prince when he left for his homeland, grabbing them and holding them tightly to her, refusing to let them leave.

She knew, though, that that could never come to pass—not with the way her hands balled up into fists until she could feel the snowflakes falling onto her nose before she saw them flurrying around the room. There was hate and resentment in her eyes as she regarded those hands, and she curled herself into a ball, burying her face in her knees, not wanting to watch their ship pass out of sight into distant waters.

He escaped, and went north, and became a King of another land. He never hurt anyone ever again.

She shook her head in her lap at the memory, and the snow fell faster around her.

»» —— ««

It was through that same window that the young woman stood in solemn silence and watched the funeral procession for her parents a few months later, their ship – and lives – lost at sea during a storm.

Her younger sister had pleaded with her to come to the funeral and to say something to publicly honor the memory of their mother and father. She had refused, telling her you wouldn’t understand, and staying in her room even as the younger woman trudged back down the hallway, stifling audible sobs.

She imagined that her sister had stood closest to the gravestones in the castle cemetery in her black mourning dress, a veil cast over her face, surrounded by their servants dressed in a similar way. The latter had probably been crying into their handkerchiefs as the priest had given last rites above the graves, gray skies casting a pall over the mourners. She supposed that as soon as the priest’s speech had ended, rain had started to fall on the crowd, who all at once would have opened their black parasols and moved back towards the castle in a slow river of darkness.

She knew the ceremony was finally over when her sister returned to her door, knocking lightly.

Elsa? Please, I know you’re in there, she said quietly. People are asking where you’ve been, and… Her voice cracked as she continued: They say have courage, and I’m trying to, I’m right out here for you, so let me—

Sniffles interrupted her speech, and her older sister could tell that she was struggling to get out each word.

We only have each other, she said at length, and a sob escaped her throat. Just you and me. What are we gonna do?

The older sister listened with a grieved, pallid expression as the younger cried, unable to do so herself. Eventually, she heard her slide down the door, and then the soft thump of a head against its surface. On the other side of it, she knelt down until she was also sitting, her knees clasped to her chest, and exhaled.

Conceal. Don’t feel. Don’t let it show, she whispered to herself over and over again until her throat was too dry to go on.

Around her, the room was encased in ice, with snowflakes suspended in mid-air.

»» —— ««

The death of her parents threw the young woman’s routine into chaos, upsetting the life she had come to know and grudgingly accept over ten long, arduous years.

With her regular lessons ended, she was expected to take over the duties of her deceased father—but only in part, as she could not be coronated until coming of age. These duties consisted mainly of signing stacks and stacks of regulations and reviews and pardons and sentences, with new papers seeming to appear out of thin air just when she had finished a load of others.

She recognized that the work adhered to her parents’ wishes of keeping her confined, and limiting her contact with those who were not aware of her magic. At the same time, she came to realize that these duties also kept her from attending meetings of her father’s council, where the decisions which were written on the papers she was asked to sign were made.

It seemed a shame, she thought, not to read what she was signing; and so, over time, she began to send more and more papers back to the council with written remarks and suggestions for revisions, or dismissing other requests outright as wasteful or poorly thought out. The work kept her mind and hands busy, and she thought little of the painful things that had so often preoccupied her in the past.

Her primary contact with the council was through a trusted servant cum adviser: an older man, Kai, whom she had known since she was a child. Since he had known her for so many years, she relied on him to work as a mediator and mentor to her, confiding in him to an exceptional degree on official matters. In addition to delivering new papers to her room to sign, he was responsible for relaying to her the council’s pleasure – as well as displeasure – with her actions, and was tactful in delivering good and bad news alike.

During one of his regular morning deliveries, he paused after setting the newest stack of papers down, standing before her desk with a look of concern. Your Highness, he said, drawing the young woman’s attention away from the table.

Seeing his expression, she placed her pen down, her brow furrowing. Yes, Kai? Is something wrong?

He nodded. Do you remember a Prince Hans of the Southern Isles?

A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down with some effort.

Yes, she replied, her palms growing colder. He visited here with his family when he was a boy.

Just the same, the servant confirmed. I’m afraid we’ve received some bad news. There was a fire in the palace several nights ago, while some members of the royal family were still asleep inside.

She shot up from her chair. Was he—

No, the servant interrupted. Thankfully, it appears that the prince wasn’t there at the time, and was unharmed.

She exhaled as if for the first time that day, gripping the edge of her desk for support as she sat down. After taking a moment to recover, she turned back to him, her lips set in a grim line.

But some members of his family were, she remarked, and the servant nodded.

His father, King Oskar, and three of his brothers, he said, sighing. It is truly an awful thing, Your Highness, especially since it’s hardly been a year since our own King and Queen…

He did not need to go further for the young woman to know where his sentence ended, and she looked wearily down at her hands, and then at the papers.

I know, Kai, she said.

… and his fire spread and burnt down everything else.

The memory jolted her upright, and she turned back to her papers, her face red. I should be getting on with my work, she explained, gripping the pen. And I don’t want to keep you from yours.

Of course, Your Highness, the servant said, bowing, though he studied her pinked cheeks for a moment longer than usual. But do call for me if you need me. I’ll be close by.

The young woman glanced up at him to give a small and final parting nod, and then breathed once she was alone again, leaning back in the chair. She stared up at the painted ceiling of her bedroom as a light dusting of snow fell around her, unable to tear her eyes away from it.

The final words from the strange boy’s story lingered on in the silence.

»» —— ««

In the months and years after the first fire, others followed, claiming more and more of the Southern Isles’ royal family along with them.

She was informed of each by the servant, and with each new report, his tone became less somber and more suspicious. She could hardly blame him, as she found the reports just as suspect, though she still urged the council to send supplies and goods to their woe-befallen neighbors in the south. She also sent letters of solidarity and condolences to the family which were, at first, dutifully received and acknowledged, and later went unanswered.

A part of her wished that she would have received anything from the boy, now a young man; but all the letters appeared to have been written by palace scribes, and signed by a member of the king’s council, rather than anyone from the royal family.

Her councilmembers’ concerns grew with each successive report, as well: where once they had written off the fires as resulting from poor infrastructure or other factors of insufficient leadership, they increasingly began to wonder aloud as to whether or not the tragedies were caused by accident… or by purposeful, malignant design.

None of the reports, however, indicated that the fires had resulted from foul play: in each instance, evidence had turned up which refuted the possibility of arson by domestic or foreign enemies. From torches tipping over into hay bales in the royal stable, to servants slipping in a dining hall with a candelabra, there appeared to be an explanation for everything that was just credible enough to end official inquiries.

Eventually, the only survivors left were the young prince she remembered, and less than a handful of his brothers, all of whom were either hermits, invalids, or otherwise unfit to lead. In a state of disarray, the Royal Council of the Southern Isles had recruited the elder brother of the dead king, who was himself close to death – and perhaps senile – to take over the duties of the monarch. Even in dire straits, it seemed, they would not trust the kingdom to the youngest prince, and they offered no public clarification for their decision.

The young woman puzzled for hours over each piece of news in her room, doing her own reading and research, and wondering at the peculiar series of events. The total silence from the boy – no, young man, she would remind herself – that she had once known worried her, and his childhood story continued to play on her mind.

The details of it, however – details that she used to have memorized so well that she could recite every line of it by heart – were fuzzier to her in young adulthood. All that she could remember was the ending: both the original, morbid one, as well as the one the boy had told her before he departed, which was considerably more agreeable.

Sometimes, she swore she could recall that the boy in the story had many brothers, and that he was mistreated in some way by them—but then she questioned if that was the tale, or if that was the reports from the Isles, their details mixing together in her mind.

[the-bluniverse]

Character Info 4

Slate Blue (17-18, he/him, pansexual)

Student Blue (young adult/ageless, he/they, biromantic acespec)

Paladin Blue (24, he/him, demisexual)

Name: Slate.

Age: 17-18

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

AU: Grey Bricks. A modern au in which an adventurous, naturalist Link wanders a bit too deep into an old nature reserve that lies beyond the outskirts of his city. Stumbling upon what appears to be a collapsed cavern, his interest is peaked. He manages to slip inside through a gap in the rocks, and stumbles upon something strange; an old rusty sword wedged between two rocks. Upon pulling the sword, he is suddenly split into four. Sage (Green), Wine (Red), Lavender (Vio), and Slate (Blue.) Not only that, but by pulling the sword he accidentally unleashed an ancient evil that is hellbent on causing chaos and destruction wherever it goes. The creature, Vaati, began to unleash hordes of monsters and demons onto the city that Link resided in. They slaughtered countless civilians, destroying everything in their path. It's up to the group of four to put a stop to this, by defeating Vaati and using the sword to seal him away once more.

Description: 6'0. Very athletic. Fluffy, light golden blonde hair. Skin is usually littered with bruises and scratches. Has a bandage on his lower left cheek. Deep blue eyes that are usually tired looking. Wears a paleish blue jacket with puffy blue gray sleeves. It has a water droplet patch sewn on the right side of the chest. Wears dark frayed blue jeans, along with some simple grey boots. Can usually be seen carrying around a worn baseball bat with blue fabric tied around the end.

History: At the beginning, Slate was just as confident and rowdy as the Blue we all know and love. He'd pick fights with random people and hunt monsters relentlessly, just to prove that he's truly the best Link. This changed, however, after his cockiness costed the life of someone very close to him. He had been leading Erune, a girl who had been extremely close to Link before he split into four, around in the safer parts of the city in search of supplies. Upon stepping into a narrow street, they were ambushed by a huge horde of bokoblins. Deciding to show off in front of Erune, he rushed forwards and began cutting them down left and right. While he was doing that, he didn't notice the group that were slowly slinking past him and towards Erune until it was too late. The girl was mauled by the monsters, the creatures ripping into her beaten body until Slate managed to cut them all down. By then she had long since been killed. This event completely smothered Blue's confident aura. Knowing that she would still be alive if he had paid more attention, he fell into a spiral of intense guilt. He became much more somber and quiet, unable to sleep due to the nightmares that played over and over in his mind like a broken record. He now keeps Erune's dagger tucked away in his right jacket pocket, holding onto it as a reminder of the horrible mistake he made.

Bonus/Trivia:

Slate is the culmination of Link's recklessness and overconfidence.

His favorite animal is a froggie :]

---

Name: Blue AKA Student (cause he's a student)

Age: young adult (ageless, but can still die. He's been around since the sixth century or so, he's an old Demon)

Pronouns: he/him, they/them

Sexuality: biromantic asexual

AU: FAM AU (Fields Academy of Magic AU)/Modern-with-magic AU

Personality: is generally hotheaded and tends to jump to conclusions. Is trying to learn as much as he can in order to get perfect grades. Knows too many kinda-illegal spells. A nerd, but an angry one.

Description: Black hair, blueish skin, glowing blue eyes, black horns, dragon like tail, claws, fangs. Wears a school-issued uniform meant to protect the wearer when they're using magic so they don't accidentally destroy their clothes or something.

History: created in the sixth century or so and is on a personal mission to attend every single magic school there is for the heck of it. Most recent target is FAM, mostly because he heard that Vio (17th-century Angel, best friend, former boyfriend) works there and they hadn't actually seen each other in about 15 years or so. Study partners with Shadow and is playing matchmaker with Shadow and Vio for the fun of it.

Bonus/Trivia:

ice/water-specific magic. Terrible at fire and wind, but know a little of earth magic from "childhood" (first couple centuries)

Can be killed like normal, is only ageless immortal but not a true immortal.

Resident healer since he specializes in water magic and therefore knows quite a lot of healing spells

pretty social and was surprisingly well-liked at FAM.

---

Name: Blue, aka Paladin

Age: 24

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Demisexual

AU: Hunter!Vio

Personality: Strong moral compass, a great leader, deeply involved in his faith and worship to the Golden Goddesses, a bit of a hothead.

Description: An absolutely monsterous height for a Hylian at 6'1", cool blue eyes, blond hair that reaches his waist and is usually tied up in a smooth ponytail. He's broad-shouldered with a warm tan, his hands rough from his rigorous daily training regiments. TW: SCARS He had a large scar that runs all the way down his chest, from under his collarbones to his xiphoid process

History: Blue pushed himself further into his faith in the Golden Goddesses after being bereft of his brother Vio in a freak accident of magic. Only a year later, his father passed away of what many called a broken heart from losing a son. Blue, seeing that his remaining brothers were already leading their lives on different paths, took up the mantle as the new captain of the Royal Guard. Years after the incident that started it all, Blue finds himself questioning whether or not Vio really did die that night, and went on the hunt for answers.

Weaknesses: Blue is desperately weak to the cold, but his strong constitution won't allow him to show it until he's past the point of becoming violently ill. TW: TRAUMA TALK The sickness is caused not only by the cold itself, but by the memories he has of being frozen solid in his youth. He would never admit it out loud, but even the chill of oncoming rain can give him flashbacks.

Bonus/Trivia:

Blue wears a gold Triforce pendant on a chain, gifted to him by his sister-in-law to be, Zelda.

He maintains his reputation as a great leader largely because of his natural inclination towards orderliness.

He's a man who can really hold his alcohol.

[snazzy-suit]

LLoG Chapter (?) Fool Me Once, Fool Me Thrice (Snippet)

Yeah I know technically they’ve only been tricked twice but it’s the third time they’ve been through ghostly shenanigans so let me have this

Can I offer you a snippet in this trying time? 

Ever since Luigi’s Mansion 3 came out, I’ve been thinking about the masked ghosts in the lobby and just how bad their disguises were (I friggin’ loved it). I also kept thinking about how things might have gone if Luigi and friends had seen through their ruse right off the bat. I was just gonna let the thought be, but then I saw this clip of Luigi very clearly giving the hotel staff incredulous looks and was like “Shit, now I have to write it”.

So here we are! A sneak peak at my attempt to adapt the events of LM3 so they fit more soundly into the LLoG AU. This is very early in Luigi’s “liaison” career, before he and King Boo have shifted into their odd little frenemy relationship. He doesn’t quite have the confidence that we see later in the series, and still sometimes gets startled/alarmed by ghosts/spirits.

Oh! Also, this is a very rough draft, so if it feels choppy and/or if there are errors (grammatical, factual, and otherwise), that’s because I haven’t gone back and given it the ol’ spit and polish. All my writing starts this way. ^^’

=

For context, Luigi has just entered the lobby, and in his distracted awe, accidentally bumps into one of the hotel staff.

=== 

Luigi’s suitcase flies from his hand as he and the other unfortunate party crash to the floor with flailing limbs and undignified yelps of surprise. The plumber, quite used to clumsy mishaps, is the first to recover. He straightens his hat that had been knocked askew and pushes himself up, immediately spying a hotel staff member—the bellhop, to be specific—clutching at their face and blindly patting the floor in search of their own headwear. The odd behavior goes unnoticed, Luigi being far too mortified by the incident to even register it.

“Oh Stars, I’m so sorry!” Luigi cries, rushing to kneel at the man’s side. “Are you alright?”

“I-it’s okay! I’m fine, I’m fine!” the bellhop replies, still frantically patting at the ground. “I should have gotten out of your way.”

Luigi frowns at the response, perturbed by how the man could simultaneously sound both meek and jovial.

“No, I should have watched where I was going,” he refutes gently. Luigi carefully retrieves the bellman’s cap from the floor and presses it into the man’s searching hand. “Here you go.”

“Ah! Thank you, sir!” The staff member shakily dons the wayward piece of his uniform, back turned to the plumber as they gathered themselves. Luigi glances up to see Peach making her way toward them, face drawn with concern. He gently waves her off, silently assuring the princess that they were alright.  

“Here, let me help you up,” Luigi offers, extending a hand to the recovering employee. The man turns and reaches up to accept his offer.

“Oh! Why, thank you!”

Luigi only just keeps himself from recoiling. The bellhop’s face...it isn't a face at all. It’s a mask, and a rather eerie one at that. Bulging, unseeing eyes stare back at him—well, sort of. The pupils are just a tad off, and so small they’re practically pinpricks. A manic grin takes up most of the mask’s lower half, every white, too-perfect tooth in full view—so much so it almost looks like a threat display. To top it all off, the mask is pale blue in color, reminding Luigi of a frozen corpse—a rather fitting description for the static expression pulled straight from the uncanny valley.

“No problem,” Luigi answers, struggling to keep composure. He takes the man’s gloved hand (it's cold as ice) and gently hauls them up (they're unnaturally light for their size) to their feet (they don’t have feet. Or legs, for that matter).  

Luigi steps back as the bellman begins brushing off their uniform. He has to make a conscious effort not to let his eyes trail down the man’s coat to the marginal gap between it and the floor. The outerwear is far too long for the style, making the man look like a child in ill-fitting clothes, or more morbidly, someone that got chopped in half at the waist. Their attempt to hide their lack of legs drew more attention than it diverted, in Luigi’s opinion. It was so obvious it almost hurt.

Luigi was talking to a ghost.

“Heh, well, that didn’t quite go according to plan,” the ghost laughs nervously. “I came over here to help you, but you ended up helping me.”

A lot goes through the plumber's mind at that moment. How terrible the ghost’s disguise is. How, despite this, Luigi can’t help but be a little impressed that the ghost didn’t instinctively float upward after their collision, and thus, blow their “cover”. How Luigi can’t seem to escape the paranormal for one Star’s forsaken weekend. How, yet again, he finds himself getting tangled in some specter’s scheme.

But none of these thoughts deign to vocalize themselves, and really, it’s for the best. Luigi has to play this smart. Without the Poltergust, they’re doomed if the ghosts realize the jig is up. If he wants to get everyone out of here safely, he’ll need to feign ignorance—at least until he has a plan.

“Help...me?” Luigi says distantly, still somewhat lost in his thoughts.

“Yes! With your luggage.” The ghost gestures to Luigi’s suitcase, lying forgotten on the pristine floor. “Allow me to ease your burden and place it with the others.”

Luigi quirks a brow at his single piece of luggage. Burden? There was hardly anything in it.

“Oh. Thank you, but that’s not really necessary. I can—”

“Please, I insist!” The bellhop interjects, already drifting (quite literally) toward the aforementioned bag. “You’re on vacation, sir! You should be relaxing. Let me take care of the heavy lifting.”

Luigi starts to object, but then thinks better of it. Best not to create a fuss and draw unnecessary attention.  

“Okay, if you insist. Thank you, mister...?”

“Oh! Um, I’m Steward! And it’s no problem, sir.”

The bellman’s name...is Steward.

You have got to be kidding.

Luigi quietly watches the bellman as they (rather awkwardly) carry his suitcase over to the precarious tower of luggage the Toads are desperately trying to stabilize. The plumber sighs, studying the lobby with a carefully concealed wariness.

Now what?

Luigi pauses when his eyes land on one of the other nearby staff members. They, too, are clearly wearing a mask, though it’s not nearly as off-putting as the bellhop’s. The static expression is rather lax—eyes partially lidded and mouth resting in a neutral line, neither a frown nor a grin. A thin, curled mustache is painted neatly above the upper lip, and the equally clean eyebrows are raised in a somewhat haughty manner.  

When the costumed spirit turns their head to regard Luigi, the pupils of their mask wobble erratically like googly eyes before settling back into a more natural position (as natural as they can be, anyway). The plumber gently waves to them in a greeting, offering what he hopes is a convincing smile. The staff member acknowledges him with a nod. Their neatly combed wig slides askew at the movement, but they deftly readjust it without so much as a shift in their stance. Luigi quickly shuffles past them in an attempt to hide his grimace.

Good Grambi, he needed something to drink.

Fortunately for Luigi, there appears to be a pitcher of tea at the table Mario is still happily sampling treats from. It’s not what he had in mind, but if it occupies his hands and quenches his thirst, he’ll take it. The plumber approaches the table as nonchalantly as he can, grabbing the rather large kettle and pouring himself a steaming cup of tea. His hands shake minutely as he does so, and Luigi tries to convince himself it’s from the strain of hefting the heavy pitcher.

“Hey bro!”

Luigi nearly spills his drink at Mario’s sudden greeting. He turns, shooting his brother a strained smile.

“H-hey bro,” he says back.

Mario grins—oblivious to Luigi’s inner turmoil—as he snatches up a croissant. He takes a hearty bite and looks back to his brother, humming happily as he savors the taste.

“Isn’ thith plathe great?” Mario asks around a mouthful of pastry.

Luigi grimaces, both at the question and at his brother’s poor table manners.

“Yeah...great...”

Mario nods, taking another bite of the flaky treat. When he speaks again, Luigi is distantly grateful he remembers to swallow his food this time.

“Good food, good atmosphere, good friends...this vacation is just what I needed. What we all needed, right bro?”

Oh Stars, this is so unfair.  

“Right,” he answers honestly. A nice vacation is what they needed, but clearly the universe thought that was too tall an order.

How is he going to break the news to Mario? And how does he keep his brother from reacting badly?

Luigi looks down at his cup, absently swirling the hot liquid inside. He subtly checks his peripheral for any nearby staff. Thankfully, they’re all a good distance away, so as long as the brothers keep their voices down, there shouldn’t be a risk of being overheard. It’s possible one of the ghosts knows how to read lips, but if they keep their expressions in check, they shouldn’t draw the attention needed to do so. If that doesn’t work...well, Luigi can only hope the masks are as hard to see out of as they are to look at.

The green-clad plumber watches his brother select a soft pretzel from one of the platters, seeing an opportunity as Mario begins to chow down on the salty treat. His brother can’t yell and make a scene if his mouth is full, right? It’s not ideal, but Luigi is too stressed to think of anything better. He gently sips from his tea, and when his brother takes another bite from the pretzel, he speaks as casually as he can around the rim of the cup.

“The hotel is a trap.”

Mario promptly chokes.

Luigi nearly drops his cup at his brother’s rather violent reaction. He blindly thrusts his drink onto the table and ducks around Mario’s distressed flailing to deliver several hard slaps to his brother’s back. Just when Luigi thinks he’s going to have to try a first aid maneuver, the food swiftly dislodges itself from Mario’s airway, leaving the red-clad plumber to hack and cough wetly as he recovers from the harrowing ordeal. Luigi looks up to find all eyes are on them.

Well, that was stupid. So much for not drawing attention.

A couple staff members move uncertainly toward them, as does Peach, but Luigi quickly waves them off.

“He’s fine!” he calls, voice slightly strained with panic. “Just got a little too...overzealous, is all!”

The disguised spirits exchange what might be—sans masks—hesitant looks, but none-the-less return to their stations. For one, terrifying moment, it appears that the princess is going to come over anyway, but another wave of assurance manages to placate her. Luigi knows he’ll need to tell Peach what is happening eventually, but he doesn’t think telling both her and his brother at the same time would be very wise. Keeping one person calm is hard enough.

“Sorry, Mario,” Luigi whispers. “That, uh...was poorly thought out on my part.”

“Ya think?” Mario wheezes, straightening from his hunched over position. “Making a bad joke like that while I’m eating—not cool, Luigi.”

Luigi frowns, but quickly replaces it with a fake smile. He feigns a hearty laugh and throws an arm around Mario’s shoulders, much to the latter’s confusion.

“I’m not joking, bro,” he says through gritted teeth, false grin still in place. “The hotel staff are all spirits wearing disguises. Really, really bad disguises.”

Mario gives his brother a bewildered look.

“If you’re not joking, then why are you smiling like that?”

“Because if they’re watching us, I don’t want them thinking we’re on to them.” Luigi grinds out. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand and retrieves his cell phone. He lifts it up, screen facing the brothers, and turns on the forward-facing camera. “Say: Play Stupid!”

===

And there you have it! Join us next time to see Luigi and friends smiling and taking pictures like good tourists as they scream internally about their terrible predicament. Laugh and cry as the nefarious hotel staff silently beg the mortals to Blease hurry up and check-in these costumes are itchy

[nega-aria]

Any Gravesbeaks family Christmas holiday headcannon? Even thou that Christmas is next month.

Finally getting around to this now that it’s actually the proper month lol, but yes I sure do! Some of these are more general winter things than Christmas specific but figured this was a good addition to my Christmas countdown 🎄

-Boyd has a reeeeally hard time waiting to open his presents. It’s not so much that he’s anxious for more stuff (let’s be honest he’s already spoiled rotten), but he’s just so freaking curious what’s in those pretty boxes! He has the bad habit of using his X-ray vision to sneak peaks at things.

-His dads now wrap all his presents in lead foil.

-Boyd and Mark are up HOURS before it’s actually time to open presents. They are strictly forbidden from waking Falcon before 6 am. They had to fight tooth and nail just to get him up that early, and they better have some good, strong tea waiting for him.

-Mark goes absolutely insane with Christmas lights. He spends hours programming app controlled light shows and is not above bothering random strangers about their super lame Christmas decorations.

-The main tree in the Beaks home used to reside in Waddle HQ, but Mark was jealous so he took it home. It’s tall enough that Boyd has to use his rocket feet just to decorate it. Which he’s not allowed to do because “no rockets in the house”. Falcon still can’t convince Mark to move the damn thing outside.

-On the other hand he did manage to talk his hubby into a more normal sized tree that doesn’t require professional help to decorate.

-Falcon never really got to celebrate Christmas as a kid (nothing all that fun anyway) so he gets more excited about sharing it with Boyd than he would like to admit. Mark thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

-Introducing Boyd to the idea of mistletoe turned out to be a bit awkward as he took to carrying it around and trying to kiss literally anyone. Poor Falcon had a rather uncomfortable time trying to explain kissing random people to “make them happy” was highly inappropriate.

-Mark loves ice skating and drags his husband along any chance he gets, but getting Boyd to try took even more coaxing. Boyd develops aquaphobia after the birthday party incident, and as it turns out frozen water isn’t much less scary than the wet kind. He actually shares Mark’s knack for skating, but it took a lot of time before he was willing to let go of Falcon’s hand long enough to really try. He still makes his dads inspect every inch of ice before he’ll set foot on it.

-Falcon sucks at skating and is much happier on the sidelines recording his boys for Mark’s social media. He did not appreciate having to explain to Boyd that falling on his ass was not part of the skating lesson.

-Wrapping presents can be a pretty stressful event for Boyd. He gets extremely obsessive about making every little thing perfect, and Mark spends a lot of time trying to get him to just let go and just enjoy it. Gift wrapping eventually becomes one of Boyd’s favorite ways to express his creative side, but it takes a lot of frustration and tears to get to that point.

-Mark uses several rolls of tape and about a pound of glitter just to wrap a single Christmas gift. He gets bored after exactly one and hires people to wrap the rest.

-At some point Boyd gets it in his head that it is completely necessary to get Falcon nothing but stereotypical English gentleman gifts for Christmas. Falcon doesn’t exactly have much use for a violin or smoking pipe (that actually blows bubbles because Boyd says smoking is bad for papa) but he loves them anyway just because his baby picked them out.

-Boyd spends about a week trying to understand “The 12 Days of Christmas” before his dads forbid him from ever playing the song again. The code remains uncracked.

-Mark has entirely too much fun planning out their family Christmas card every year. It usually involves embarrassing outfits and was probably taken in July. Boyd loves it; Falcon tolerates it.

-Boyd’s very first Christmas gift was a stuffed falcon who he named Mr. Scree. It quickly becomes his comfort item, and he absolutely cannot be separated from it when Falcon is away from home for more than a day.

-There is always at least one family snowball fight every year that is really more of a snowball war. Mark was extra excited to have Boyd around to help him finally win against Falcon for a change. Falcon ended up with some serious bruises the first year before Boyd learned to control his freakish strength.

-Boyd is obsessed with watching snow fall. He loves catching individual snowflakes to study and recreate in paper form.

-Fireplace snuggles are the best way to end a chilly day of fun, and it’s a family favorite every year 💖

[midzelink]

"#listen i know exactly how these two meet and how they start dating and it's beautiful and i LOVE THEM" Please tell me everything!

(( in reference to the tags I made on this Ilia x Ashei art ))

HOO, BOY, OKAY - where to begin?  A lot of this is going to be stuff that I didn’t really want to make a post about, because my hopes were that I would eventually write their meeting and eventual dating into a multi-chapter fic of sorts (called “Love & Horses,” and there’s good reason for that, I swear), but I struggle with writing enough as-is, and by the time I do (if ever) get around to it, this post will absolutely be lost to time - so, what the heck!  Lemme gush a little bit.  Some of this I’ve already written about in the description of this wedding piece I had commissioned, but I’ll expand on it a bit here. (Also, shoutout to @therealflurrin for inspiring a lot of this - we somehow fell in love with these two independently of one another, which just goes to show how much potential these two have. Spread the Iliashei love!)

So, what’s important to understand about Ashei (and this is all just my headcanon, of course) going into this is that she was raised alone by her father in the Hebra Mountains, with very sparse and sporadic human contact outside of him.  As she says in-game, he was a “knight in his own right,” and he “taught [her] the arts of war as though [she] was his son” - he taught her how to wield a sword, but unfortunately for her, that was pretty much all he taught her.  He was a troubled man haunted by the ghosts of his past, perhaps, but he was a terrible father, and when Ashei was only fifteen years old she bested him in battle and ran away from home. She was on her own for quite some time, surviving in the harsh wilderness of the frozen wilds, but she did so aimlessly; all she had was her sword, and with nowhere else to turn, she eventually found her way to Hyrule proper, choosing to enlist as a knight solely because she would have a roof over her head and some money in her pocket.  She was only sixteen at the time - she lied and told them she was twenty - and when she bested every captain in the entire royal guard in a single evening, they agreed to take her in.

Another important thing to note is that Ashei’s arrival in Castle Town (and one particular encounter with Princess Zelda herself, but that’s a story for another time) awakens The Gay within her; she’s never really been around so many people before, let alone women her own age.  This has some interesting side effects, namely that Ashei has no idea how to talk to or behave around women, and it plays into the first time she and Ilia (improperly) meet.

So, picture this: a short time after the events of the game, Ilia travels back to Castle Town to visit Telma, whom she bonded following her kidnapping and memory loss.  Ashei is sitting in the bar, sipping on some ale, and she hears someone come in and begin chatting; she thinks nothing of it, of course, until she takes a quick little peak -

- and sees the most drop-dead gorgeous person she has ever seen in her entire life.

She panics.  Face goes completely red, she hides her face in her hand, nearly drops her ale.  Her fight her flight instincts kick in, and she chooses flight, rushing out of the bar before the girl can even notice her, let alone speak to her - and though it’s a few days before she can get the image of her out of her head, eventually things go back to normal, and Ashei finds comfort in the fact that she’ll probably never see that mystery girl again.

Except, y’know - she does.  Because of course she does.

Fast forward a bit, Hyrule Castle is a still a mess of being rebuilt, and the people need something to keep their spirits up - so Zelda is like, f**k it!  Dance time!  An outdoor ball, in the afterglow of twilight, with food and live music and all what have you.  Ashei attends in a full set of royal armor, complete with helm and all the fixings, as she’s only there on guard duty, but just as soon she thinks the night is going to end without incident, who do you think she sees sitting all alone, and does she looks slightly sad or is that a trick of the light, and oh my gods that dress is lovely, was it handmade, did she make it, and what are the chances she would see her again -

Ashei is still quite flustered, of course - only this time it’s different, because here, she isn’t herself.  Here, she’s just a nameless solider among many - she could be anybody - and somehow, someway, she musters up her courage to approach the young woman…and offers her hand in dance.

And I think now would be a good time to talk about Ilia’s side of things; we know a lot more about her story, of course, but it’d probably be good to mention that, yes, she did love Link - and perhaps, once upon a time, he could have loved her, too, but after everything that happened, he was unable to readjust to life back in Ordon, and as we see in the final credits, he leaves, in a scene that tells us almost certainly that he only said goodbye to her.  Ilia goes through quite a lot both during the game and in the months after; romance aside, Link has always been her closest friend, and suddenly he’s so distant from her.  It’s difficult to handle, and as she watches him leave after a few months of struggling with this, with no idea of when or if he’ll return, I guess you could say that she fell out of love out of necessity; he was, and always will be, a very dear friend to her, but the weight of what had happened to both of them had changed them, and their relationship would never be exactly the same as it once was.  It pains her - but she accepts it, and moves on.

So, Link is AWOL for a while, yeah?  Ilia has a lot going through her mind, and like Ashei did before she found a good friend in Shad and a makeshift home in the Resistance, she feels aimless.  On top of that, she’s still dealing with the trauma that being kidnapped had saddled her with, and what sticks with her the most is how helpless she felt waiting for someone else to save her.  Then wouldn’t you know, one day she gets a letter from Telma inviting her to festivities to be held in Castle Town, and Ilia makes up her mind about something.  She packs up her things…and sets off.

The night of the festival, Ilia does take the hand of that mysterious stranger - and as they dance it’s wonderful and magical and lovely and for a time she forgets all of her troubles, but before she can see their face or even learn their name they’re gone, leaving her wanting and curious.  Some time passes, and the festivities come to and end; Ilia makes for Telma’s Bar, where Shad, Ashei, and Auru are unwinding from the night’s events.  Telma introduces the younger woman to the gang, and Ashei almost begins to panic, before she realizes that Ilia would have no way of recognizing her, that Telma was just introducing them to a friend, that this would pass and be done with in no time at all, but then -

“I want to join the Resistance!”

And Ashei is just like,

Ah.

Ah, shit.

This post is getting rather long, so I’m gonna try to wrap things up here - but as you can imagine, hijinks ensue!  Things reach a climax when Ilia insists that Ashei teach her how to fight, and Ashei lashes out and flat-out refuses in a burst of anger, which triggers an episode of “oh my god am I turning into my father oh f**k no” and sends her running, truly panicking this time; Ilia runs after her, of course, and when she finally finds her they get to talking.  Ilia tells her that whatever it is that’s bothering her, she doesn’t have to open up about it now, or tomorrow, or any time soon, but if she ever wants to, she will be there to listen - and then Ilia opens up, about why she joined the Resistance, about her kidnapping and her scars and the horror she’s endured.  She chooses to be vulnerable where Ashei cannot, and then suddenly the mood is lighter, and Ashei is sheepishly admitting that she couldn’t teach her how to fight because she likes her too much, gods be damned, and Ilia is joking about how she never knew she liked girls till now because there were none her age growing up in Ordon, and Ilia thought Ashei liked Shad and Ashei thought Ilia liked Link, except Shad doesn’t like women and Ashei doesn’t like men and Link has been gone for months now, and oh, aren’t they both so stupid - and then they hear music, and Ilia stands and offers Ashei her hand, and in that moment both of them know, y’know?  Ashei still has a lot of stuff she’s got to work through, and it’s not going to be easy by any means, but for now, she can do this much - so she takes Ilia’s hand and the two of them dance into the night, pushing aside their worries till morning’s light.

Do the two of them start dating pretty much immediately?  Yes.  Do they love one another completely and utterly?  Absolutely.  Do they get married and is their wedding super, duper gay?  You bet your ass it is.

There’s a lot more to this that I won’t get into here, including Link’s eventual return (after three years of being away!) and the aftermath of that, and the exact specifics of Ashei’s troubled history with her father and how being with Ilia helps her to heal from it.  On the plus side, Bo becomes like the father that Ashei never had, and fun fact: the two like the arm wrestle!  Like, a lot!  (And Ashei sometimes lets him win.)

[nexstage]

LIMBO SILVAM - PART 8 (3/3)

However, her battered nerves told her to keep moving and she wrapped her arms around her crush, running even against a ruthless, chill wind and got both of them behind a bunch of rocks a bit beyond in the path. The hail and blizzards kept blowing brutally, but with the improvised shield the rocks gave them, the gems were safe.

The former technician looked at her romantic partner, a mix of bewilderment and astonishment imprinted in her eyes. Lapis caressed her right cheek shakily, a tearful smile adorning her face "You idiot. Heroic i-idiot". Peridot, in an instant, gave her the mother of bear hugs, crying like a toddler, not letting her go for fear of seeing Lapis disappear. The other gem rubbed circles in her back while the tears rolled down her cheeks. Lazuli was trembling, slightly, but trembling afraid of losing Peridot, of dying, of exhaustion and many other things. But holding onto the gem she loved so much brought her some peace, stopping her from going insane in this crazy adventure.

After some minutes hugging, crying and letting her emotions out, Peridot -although reluctantly- let go of her romantic partner and rubbed at her eyes, sniffing. Lapis got up and lent Peri a hand which she took fastly, her grip ironclad for obvious reasons. "I don't want to lose you. Don't leave me, please" she said in a small, pitiful voice. Lapis gave her a kind hug to reassure her everything would be ok, at least for now.

"Thanks for not giving up on me, Peri. It was dangerous but very brave of you. If it weren't for your words... I would have done something really stupid despite my intentions of saving you"

The green gem blushed at her compliments and smiled a bit at her, "You're important to me, Laz. We're important to each other, so, let's protect our backs with all we have AND mean it" the sudden seriousness in Peri's eyes told Lapis that this incident would be something they'd have to talk privately once they returned home. Still, the ocean gem just nodded accepting that and both kept walking through the paved path.

Or both gems tried to, because a strong, chill wind surprised them. Not wanting a repeat of the last near-tragic event, Lazuli and Peridot shielded themselves using the bunch of rocks, waiting for the blizzard to stop. When it did, they ran as quickly as they could, passing by the long, bizarre windows that were letting the cold air of the snow storm to hit them.

The wisps were more savagge the more they advanced. The stress, exhaustion, the marks on their bodies, the glitching and pain, were too much and sometimes they tripped on the stairs or got sweeped by the gales. Some minutes later, fortunately, the path ended in another entrance and they went through it, thinking things would be easier this time for a change.

Both Crystal Gems didn't know how wrong they were.

Once they got out of that dangerous zone at the edge of the side of that mountain, Lapis and Peridot faced an immense white desert. Kilometers of snow dunes where those weird signs were scattered but also many branches of trees, covered by the white, icy substance. Oh! And added to all of that was the enraged lightnings whose roars gave Peridot a big bad vibe. She was never a fan of lightnings.

"We're so close, Peri. The mountain's light is closer to us"

It was in indeed, though still far away. But the luminous pilar that came from the mountain's divided-in-two peak was more clear-cut than before, despite the raging storm and the powerful gales that went in circles like creating a frozen tornado. Peridot gulped at the idea of dealing with such monstruos weather and in the conditions they were in; however, an encouraging smile from Lapis was enough to lift her determination.

"Let's get this over with" both tightened their hold on each other's hands and walked through the snow.

The winds and the coldness was eating them for how painfully slow it made their journey. Lapis side-hugged her crush to prevent the blizzards to separate Peridot from her, though it didn't work with the star-shaped visor that went flying to another part. The only thing they could grab to not be sweeped abruptly was the rock-made signs, but those items weren't that strong to protect them.

Then an ominous shadow got their attention. Lapis and Peridot's eyes widened in horror at seeing the colossal monster. The creature roared and from its body 2, 5, no, 8! 8 robed-like figures came out. All of them flying towards them!

Both gems ran as black arrows were fired against them. Each time one touched the ground, it bursted into long spikes. Lazuli carried Peridot in her arms to protect her from them, taking a lot of damage in her extremities. The green gem pulled away desperately to try to defend her companion from those monsters, but the other didn't let her while she ran.

It didn't last, however, for the former technician was able to got out of the embrace and held both her comrade's hands to lead her to a refuge or anywhere very far away from the ruthless ambush. One of the clodded figures, though, tackled the engineer and the gales sweeped her some meters away from Lapis.

"PERIDOT!!!!" Against reason, the ocean gem rushed to her aid, fear like nothing she had felt consuming her mind. Losing her, such a thought sparked in Lazuli energy enough to rescue her love before those things killed her.

Peridot, on the other hand, had grabbed one of the rock-made signs so the gales couldn't leave her discarded in another place. Her visorless eyes were useless against the snow, hail and cold air blown into her face. Then Lapis' voice got her to open a bit her vision spheres, watching in awe and shock how the other gem was avoiding with the best agility she could show the black arrows of the shadow-y figures. But one of them, suddenly, stabbed her back, coming out from the chest.

Peridot yelled, her shrieks the embodiment of terror. The blue gem fell to her knees and two more arrows pierced each of the legs, from her mouth an agonizing scream escaped. One of the shadows tackled her cruelly and the gem collided with a rock-made sign which left her unconscious.

The mechanic fought endlessly against the blizzards to reach her romantic partner, many times being hit by the arrows but not stopping for a second until she was in front of a heavly wounded Lapis. Putting her over her back, Peri ordered her mind to energize her legs so running could save them both.

The eight shadows fly towards the gems, the engineer, meanwhile, focusing in two tasks while sprinting madly: protect Lapis and not losing from her sight the peak of the mountain. A rain of black arrows was directed at her from every angle, making it impossible for her to evade them all.

It was a living hell. Needles, nails, knives, any sharp object used hadn't been able to cause that kind of pain. And to make it worse, Lapis was receiving more damage, but in her back!

'Keep running, you clod! Keep running until they can't follow you anymore! You two have to live!' her mind yelled at her. It was the best encouragment she could create to not be swallowed by despair.

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

How many steps had she taken? Her brain had lost the count already. How many arrows pierced through her and Lapis' body? She hoped not so many. How many times her eyes had to endure the icy winds? Stars, Peridot missed her star-shaped visor so much. How much it would take to reach the goddamn peak and go home?

...

...

Wait a second.

...

...

Where the hell was the mountain?!

"Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!" No no no! This was all wrong! It couldn't be happening! The mountain was there, the pilar of light shining, how it could disappear?!

Peridot searched for it but only got snowflakes in her eyes. An horizon obscured by dense fog and a grey-and-white sky above her and Lapis, the only two things she was able to see.

Kilometers and kilometers of snow dunes, nothing and no one else.

They were lost. She had gotten them lost. Ok... Ok... Calm down, it couldn't be that bad...

"Someone help me! Please!" No, it TRULY was bad. Really worse than ever.

"Please! I'm-I'm lost! I'm lost and Lapis is wounded! Please help!" Hopelessness and self-reproach clawed at her heart, guilt tainting her every thought. Idiot, idiot, idiot! Just when they needed most to find a refuge and keep going, she had to ruin it all! Now they were lost and going to die there! Their last chance of coming back home unreachable!

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Filled with rage and frustration, Peridot kicked the snow-covered ground mercilessly, helpless tears running down her cheeks. Her anger was so deep that she didn't notice when Lapis, still unconscious, fell from her back. Minutes passed with her outburst wasting the last bit of her strength, her body's glitches stopped her from a moment, the sharp pain they caused making her trip and kiss the floor much to her humilliation. She was so done with this shit.

"P-Peri..." Then, as if waking from a trance, Peridot looked at her right and saw her love barely moving, the snow covering her slowly.

"Lapis!" She ran to her companion and put her in her arms. The blue gem opened her eyes a bit, confusion written in her face.

"Where...are we? Have we...arrived...already?" The engineer's heart broke at those questions. She really wanted to tell her that they were close but lying was a mistake she didn't want to repeat, even if both were going to perish. "I'm s-so sorry, Laz... I'm sorry... We were so close but... I ruined it... I don't know where we are... I'm such an idiot, I'm sorry"

Lapis' body convulsed in pretty disturbing glitches, much to the other's horror, leaving the ocean gem more exhausted and weaker than ever. Still, she placed a hand in Peri's cheek and caressed it lovingly, "At least... I'm with you"

The little gem wept guiltily, hugging her comrade and laying at her side in the snow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she mumbled. Lapis wrapped her arms around her waist to comfort her but her weeping got worse. "If I-If I had been stronger, w-we would already be in the peak... Going home"

Lazuli put her hand under Peridot's chin so they could be face to face. "You dork... D-Don't you see? You're m-my home. I love you" the former technician kissed her passionately, deeply moved by those words "I love you too".

Both hugged each other more and stayed like that in the chill ground, letting the snow covered them. A deep slumber overtook their minds while a mass of darkness emerged from the snow beneath them and swallowed them whole.