#sven returns

[myreygn]

modern au dad askeladd except he's not an actual dad but this random kid shows up to his house every day and tries to have beef over the closed food store askeladd bought and turned into an antiquarian store. turns out the food store used to be run by the kid's father until he passed away which is very sad of course but also askeladd is not gonna cooperate with some brat that borderline harasses him day by day. only that he can't call the cops because he kinda has a turbulent past and if they find out he's filling his store with stolen goods it's gonna become a huge problem. and note to destiny, the stupid kid finding out is not that great either because now he has to hear it out if he doesn't wanna go to prison and also he should probably learn the demon child's name while he's at it. shenanigans ensue.

[themanwhomadeamonster]

Character arc tag!

Thank you again @arisenreborn :'D Based on this quiz uwu

Seresa: Hero arc

well done - you did things right. this may seem like a boring answer, but i promise it isn't. you believe in goodness and you believe in doing good, and through everything, you work to keep that goodness. you have seen so much blood, and your instinct is always to stitch. you grew and fought and won, and i'm glad you did, because someone had to. i'm glad you kept believing in the world you were trying to save. you are far braver than most could ever be.

Carwyn: Disillusionment arc

it's hard to imagine yourself when you were young. maybe you were meant to be a hero; maybe you could have been, in another world, but this world only made you sad. there seemed to be too many problems to fix and too much cruelty and too many hard lines that you did not know how to soften. the world turns and it is bloody and hard and you sit on your bed, thinking about the blood and the hardness and all you failed to do. i know it feels like you could sleep until the end of time, but i hope you don't. i hope you lift yourself out of bed one day, not to save the world, but to peel an orange and to walk in a forest; to find all the softness you could not create.

Siel: Romance/Friendship arc

you started this story a little hard, or awkward, or stubborn. that's okay. it's harder than it should be to admit, but what you really want is love. that's what your story is all about - not just the act of loving, but the allowance of it. the confession that you do not want to fight or bleed or save the world, but to simply feel the way two hands fit so easily together. you will have two chairs and a table and you will shut your blinds, and you will say the word love without faltering. this is a happy ending, and you do not need to feel guilty. it hurts our hands to fight - never to hold.

Tagging @beastren @ritens @edgier-than-a-diamond @transshion @pawnguild >:0

[leonsliga]

Keepers respecting keepers 🤝

[yours-the-author]

A Not-So-Great Start to a Not-So-Great Reign: Part 2

Sven: Quake in fear, Triple Threat! The Toppat Clan will be the last thing you ever see! Unless you include the inside of your eyelids!

Sven: Is this my moment? Do I get to do it?

Burt: *Nods*

Sven: Okay~!

Sven: *Evil Laughter*

Geoffrey: You just told them all of our plans, sir.

...

Sven: i didn't SAY IT WAS A GOOD IDEA!

-

Dialogue based on episode 20 of Sgt Frog Abridged

-

Me, opening my mouth to speak: A

Everyone: WHERE'S CHAPTER SIX OF COPPERRIGHT WEEK?

Me: *dies in a fire*

-

Anyway, here's the second part of the comic I promised! Sven just can't seem to get a handle on the whole "evil leader" thing. It's a little irritating for some of the other Toppats, but he'll get there eventually (or not). I read somewhere that Burt might have blue or green shoes, and then I saw some art of him with both, so he gets both, because I think it's neat! Also, apparently Carol Cross' hat is actually dark green, not black like I originally thought it was. Which... definitely would have looked weird in my "style" (can you really call it a style?) Triple Threat is probably laughing themselves to death on the other side of the recording, hence the "lol" I stuck in there.

Anyway (again!), as for the Copperright chapter... uh... Yeah, the day got away from me again. But! Good news is, I already wrote day seven's prompt (long story), so I'll write day six tomorrow and post them both right afterwards. So there's that! I'll see you all tomorrow, once everything's written out.

[dear-kumari]

Strap in motherFUCKERS, this ain't your GRANDMA'S Voltron,

[lozchic]

Current progress on redesigning Svyk so far. Trying to integrate the older designs while keeping the ratty old cloak™ in a new way.

[witchybitchybisexual]

P1 of my many favourite episodes

Golden Girls mutuals!!! My brother agreed to watch one (1) episode of Golden Girls tonight after dinner!! What do I show him!!!!

[butterbabyflapjack]

ＣＨＡＯＳ ＨＥＡＲＴＳ

[ PAIRING ] Messmer the Impaler x hornsent princess!reader

[ SUMMARY ] Messmer is feared throughout the land. Your world, his flame has razed; your family gone, yourself his prisoner. He’s given you every reason to hate him. So why does heat flood your veins at his touch? Doth your wretched heart crave his to come and claim you?

[ RATING ] explicit, 18+

[ WARNINGS ] enemies to lovers as an extreme sport, mutual pining, snake bites, light bondage, monsterfucker, inhuman anatomy, size difference, hurt and comfort, passionate sex, hate sex, dark romance, slow burn, minor character death, attempted rape (not by Messmer), canon typical violence and warfare, more tags to come

✧˖° read here or ao3

CHAPTER 1

[ AUTHORS NOTE ] Soooo I did not mean for this to be so long. I got carried away–I can't help myself. And I’m sure there's parts which are messy since editing chapters this long melts my brain so I hope you’ll forgive me <3 Enjoy!

This land was not always weighed by death. Not always wrought by ash and ruin.

The Impaler, Messmer, changed that. Inked his name to its cause. Proud, it seemed, to wear the flame-soaked flag his crusade waved in the broken halls of your people.

He changed a lot of things in what would become his land of shadows, and always in manners most cruel.

The people feared him.

You feared him.

Ear craned to whispers of his name.

You lived a sheltered, privileged life, despite your lust for ungilded freedom, and your father wouldn’t tell you the state of things, how close this war had gotten. He often told you nothing at all, in truth, beyond the length of your duties as a woman and sole daughter of his house. But you feared the worst–for yourself, for those around you. Feared that death was fast approaching, for something of it shivered in the air, made its mountain calm taste ashen. And what is calm, if not what veils the savage storm which lies beyond it?

Something was coming. Of this your nightmare’s warned, though it seemed no one would voice their shared concerns. Playing fool to the obvious, as though to hide from truth would keep it from ever finding you.

You needed your brother; your only and cherished sibling. Your kin and closest friend. Needed to speak with him about your worries, needed to salve them, but he’d been garrisoned near Rivermouth for nearly two moons, a sentry against the threat of Messmer’s men–but no longer.

Today was the day he finally came home.

Your heart swims with warmth at the notion, as for days and nights you’ve fretted he may never return.

He was practically your twin, your brother Sven. People often believed such was true, though you were younger. And his imminent arrival was your first thought upon waking. To embrace him safely your sole intention when throwing yourself from your dusky blue bed at the silver of dawn, wrestling inside the arms of your emerald overcoat. Slipping on dirtied shoes your father would be ashamed of with all the clumsy, stumbled excitement of an eager child.

Sven is home…!

You were anxious to see him, even if your intentions of doing so well before your father ineluctably found him were far from merely greeting him home.

With this in mind, you rushed from your private chambers. Down through the broad, stone-floored hallways of your family’s hold, and knew not how you knew his procession arrived, only that you knew. Perhaps it was the song of the field birds, or those of the surrounding pines; that small forest which surrounds your sprawling, mountainous city. Or perhaps it was merely his presence in the air, something clung to the leaves like dappled dew, but you knew; Sven was home. He was safe, and you meant to keep it so.

The chill of the outer courtyard couldn’t receive you fast enough as you rushed past servants and guardsmen out into the dawn. The courtyard filled with horned mounts and war carts, brimming with the sounds of armor and hooves, as inside the gates amasses your brother’s wearied men at arms. And when you see Sven slipping off his steed alongside them, you fail even to call his name. Something catching in your throat as you merely bolt toward his presence, with him too distracted loosing his horned steed’s bridle to see you bounding there. Informed with a breathless grunt upon you tightly seizing him that you’ve come to greet him, swarmed by a hug that might seek to wring him of his very life. 

After tensing in bewilderment, he laughed; his exhales shaking you. “Someone’s eager to greet the dawn.”

“I’d be eager to see you no matter what time it is,” comes your mumbling in his chest.

He clasps one solid arm around your far more fragile form, bronze armor twisting leather joints as he brings you to his ochre-draped chest. Holding you there for warm moments, before shifting his hold somewhat in effectively prying you off him.

He surmises you a moment, as though confused by such fierceness of emotion. Eventually smiling softly. “Good morrow to you as well, dear sister.”

“You’re home,” is all you can muster, like you can’t quite believe it still, and a chuckle harbors once more in his throat.

“I’m home,” he agrees, quite simply. “Had you room for doubt I would be?” 

To this, you withhold response.

He lacks the helm of his fellow horned warriors, of whom it seems what remains of his regiment’s traveled here. Donning instead a fabric mask he now pulls from his nose and face; dark, shoulder-length hair spilling past his crown of two goat-like horns, their curves spiraling toward the sunlight.

He seems to decipher your worries as you eye his men, as you eye him ; giving your chin a small pinch in the effort to snatch you from them.

“I’m well,” he assures you. “You worry far too much.” Glancing at the vine-twisted keep far behind you, he wonders, “Have you told father of my arrival?”

Your expression’s wry. “Has it been so long you’ve forgotten I’m not entirely witless?”

One corner of his lips quirks as his hand shifts to your hair, ruffling it up a bit despite your instant protests. “Happily, it has not. And I’m glad of it. I’d prolong his inevitable criticisms for as long as possible.”

“I’m rather offended you hadn’t told me of your arrival, however,” you point out whilst slapping his giant, armored hand away, to which his dark brows pinch incredulously. 

“I only just arrived! I hardly know how you knew it.” 

Pressing back your responding grin, you shed the skin of levity in favor of matters more severe; ones you’ve rushed here to find him for in the first place.

“Come,” you tell him, in the guise of welcoming him home. “You must be tired. And before our unfortunate father finds you, I have questions of your time at the blockade.”

And though Sven sighs, he doesn’t stop you–allowing himself to be pulled by one hand toward the keep whilst his soldiers behind him toil with horses and armament; some greeting family, others guiding their horses back home. 

“Of course you do,” he mutters, unenthused. “Though I assure you father’s relayed the state of things well enough.”

He hasn’t, and Sven must know that. Your father confides in you nothing. He loves not your gender, preferring you’d been yet another son, and nor does he love you were born without horns. He thinks less of you. Sven can’t deny this unfortunate truth. And he won’t worm his way from your questions by playing fool to it.

“I’d rather hear it from you,” you state, forcing tension from your tone. 

Past chamber after chamber, you drag him searching for one vacant of any eyes that might spot you. And though Sven’s much taller than you, it’s like he’s dragging his feet in some useless attempt to dissuade you.

“My, you’re slow,” you chastise, leaning more weight toward your aims, more or less lugging the tall man forward. “Have you suffered so greatly on your journey that you now walk as a feeble old man?”

He rolls his hazel eyes, though at your taunting, his pace rises to meet yours all the same. “I’ve only just arrived,” he complains. “Have we not time to tarry?”

No, you bite back from saying. Instead steering him inside a broad, open storeroom where you two can be alone. We don’t. 

The room is quite barren, many of its supplies shifted elsewhere in support of the war. And after glancing about in ensuring your privacy, you turn and stare up at your brother hard.

He looks at you with subtle perplexion. Meeting your solemn gaze as all lightness is slowly bled of him.

“What troubles you, sister?”

You’re not sure what to say. Knowing the words, yet somehow sure he will resist them.

In your troubled silence, he takes your arm in reclaiming your wandering gaze again, guiding your worry more toward his. 

“What is it?”

Your mouth presses flat before you manage to force the words out.

“We have to get out of here.”

A crease weighs his brow. “What do you mean, get out of here?”

“I mean it isn’t safe here,” you tell him with more insistence in every second drawn on. 

You steal another glance at the opened doorway beside you, before taking his hand to steer him deeper into the room, away from what prying ears might hear you.

“I’ve heard whispers,” you state, in a whisper all your own. Staring up with desperation, attempting to wring the truth from his dodging hold. “The Impaler…”

Sven’s forearm tenses, though you press on.

“He’s reduced Moorth to naught but ruin, has he not?”

Jawline growing tight, some faint darkness glints his eye in a way suggestive that he did not want you to know this.

“We’ll take the city back,” he says, but you won’t have his dodging.

“Father insists our paths of trade aren’t broken, but I’m not the ignorant simpleton he thinks I am,” you say, fearful and sullen. Determined for whatever ugly truth. “He’s incinerating everything, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

“You know who!” your voice now raises. “Stop treating me like some blissful, ignorant child!”

In his reluctance, silence follows, though you read him well enough. Know your brother better than anyone. And you see something beyond the stone-wall of him splinter.

“That’s why you’re here, then… Isn’t it?” you press him, as your nervous heart still trembles. “To defend these halls… Belurat far beyond them… There’s nowhere else to fall back to. He’s ransacked everything else.”

He doesn’t immediately respond. Instead studying you with the hesitance of not knowing what to say, how honest to be with you.

You demand full honesty. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Through his tension, he says not anything. 

Biting the inside of your lip so harshly it stings, you take both his hands in yours, squeezing harder than you mean to.

“We have to go,” you insist in one breath, unblinking. Hushed enough to hide such treason from any walls that may have ears. “We have to leave the city. Now. We’d be fools to wait any longer.”

The line of his jaw turns to stone as he studies you. 

“And go where?” he wonders at last, voice bladed against you. “There’s nowhere in reach where Messmer’s flames cannot find us.”

You’re left without answers, for there are none for such an impossible thing.

“We’ll find a way through the shadow veil,” you insist in desperation; disheartened to hear his weary scoff. Gripping his hands still tighter to win his ear. “I’ll tear the bloody thing apart myself if I have to,” you persist, not knowing if you even can, if such a thing is possible. “I’ll–”

“Enough,” your brother halts you, with such uncharacteristic firmness it stills your tongue at once.

A flicker on his brow seems to regret his harshness of it, though he carries on unyielding even so. “There’s nowhere more safe than inside these walls. And even were there not, who are we to abandon our people here? While we ourselves flee for spurious safety in the night?”

Our people…

The notion ties labyrinthine cords inside you. For though you care for your people–our people–don’t want them to suffer Messmer’s wrath…

Some of your people’s practices are those of pure horror. Traditions and rituals with shamans–with people–you’ve always found barbarous. Beyond what one can bear. Impossibly cruel.

Still. Even with the bad, there is good here. Hundreds of innocent lives that might be snuffed out. 

But when it comes to their lives, or your brothers…

You choose your brother’s every time, without question. Over every single soul that elsewise exists.

You hold Sven’s gaze as obstinately as he holds yours. “I’m leaving,” you say. “Tonight. And you’re coming with me.”

He regards you still more discontentedly, as some thread inside him fails in tearing through. And when he pulls his hands from the unyielding strangle of yours, there’s the smallest smile forced to his lips that might’ve convinced anyone other than you. 

“I understand your disquiet,” he says. “Truly, I do.” He brushes back some hair behind your ear, as if this alone might cease this war inside you. “But such depth of concern is unfounded. Worry not, dear sister... Messmer’s forces will not reach our city. Nor will the Tower Settlement fall.” 

As you frown, his thumb swipes your chin as though to swipe the shape of it from you.

“You underestimate me,” he says, with a glisten to crinkling eyes. “I’ll protect you, as I always have. As you know I always will. In this, you can be certain. And with it allow this matter to rest.”

You merely scowl at him. “You’re… You’re being stubborn… pigheaded… I–”

He laughs before frustration lets you finish. Drawing you to him. Hugging your scowling close whilst he strokes the back of your hornless head with playful fingers.

“I’ve heard tell of my being such,” he agrees, lightly. “Enough that I fear it must be true. The pigheaded prince, they call me.”

His embrace is comfort enough that your fears are near forgotten. Though it slips through your grasping fingers all too swiftly as he lets you go, with guidance toward the doorway where the two of you both entered. 

It’s obvious that he would see this conversation’s end, while you consider it hardly started.

“I also fear our father’s already loathe to’ve not addressed me,” he says, with this in mind, though with little relish. “I’m sure I’ll be his unwilling captive in the war room at least till dusk. After which…”

He pauses just before the doorway, turning you toward him with gentle hands.

“I expect you to sit with me at whatever feast he’s surely hosting.”

Your attempt at jest’s still murky with clouds of doubt. “A feast… I suppose your presence warrants as much...”

His eyes, even now, cast a sparkle. “Is that doubt on your tongue?” he ribs you. “My presence warrants several feasts, at least. Lavish ones, where the whole of the city stumbles home drunk from them.”

You look away, in no mood for his usual liveliness. And his fingers grace your upper arms in catching your gaze once more. Eyes passing between your worried ones.

“Be at peace, dear sister,” he says, with firmness reassuring, even now. “Leave worry with me. I won’t let ill befall you.” He gives your arms a squeeze. “Save me a spot at the table tonight, will you? Near some comely friend of yours. I could use a lovely distraction.”

You fight back the smallest smile in response. “I’ll have no part in you breaking some poor girl’s heart again.”

“Then I’ll take care not to break it this time,” he teases. 

As he’d guessed, you did not see your brother again till the world became swallowed by night.

Your father’s great hall is thunderous. Partiers laughing, people jeering, as though the only one worried is you.

How can they all be so ignorant of what death approaches?

You wish you could shrink from it; this jovial place. But you’re not one to cast aside a more pleasant reunion with your brother than the short one you shared this morning, so you stay, beside his and your father’s empty seats at the longtable as instructed.

As a man slick with sweat reaches toward you across the table for yet another leg of lamb, a darkened presence hovers just behind where you sit.

“Is this seat taken?”

The boldness, to ask such a thing of your brothers chair. Only a nitwit would speak such stupidity, and you turn to see said nitwit standing there.

He’s older, with a tangle of horns on his brow. A thin smile and small eyes, with teeth greased with the ale which surely prompted this.

Yet another, it would seem, after your affluent hand. As if your father hadn’t plans to sell you to whoever’s hand flattered his own most. 

“Yes,” you say brusquely, turning away more rudely than you mean, though you find it hard in that moment to care. 

You grab the flask of ale before you and suck it down as though you mean to drown in it.

Wherever is your damnable brother?

Wiping amber from your lips with an unladylike hand, you endeavor to breathe some fresh air. Standing up far too quickly, to the effect of nearly toppling over, and it’s no wonder you don’t often drink liquor.

Wavering your way from the hall, you make your way out into night. Out, through the courtyard, knowing not where you wander, only that you’d rid yourself of all raucous and smell of that festivous hell.

Ale warms your veins, yet you still rub gooseflesh from your arms as you wander in your long-sleeved gown up the stairway of the keep’s curtain wall, thinking to look out at the darkness beyond the sprawling city’s light.

The breeze is stronger up here, on the wall’s utmost walkway. Curling the length of your skirts in about you, tugged to and fro with the wind's invisible hands. And you stare outward, full of worry, not aware that you aren’t alone.

“Didn’t know I’d have such fine company.”

It’s a gruff voice which greets you, and you turn with a start, though it’s only a grizzled guard who addresses you. A graying old man with kind eyes and a knobby head of horns. Is your father so wanting of forces he’d pluck some greybeard from his bed to man the bailey?

“Apologies,” you say, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your watch.” Vacillating a moment, before adding, “I’d stay a while, if you’d allow it.”

His eyes crease as he smiles, pushing himself up off the half-wall he’d previously leaned upon.

“Stay as long as you like,” he says. “There’s naught much to look at. Boredom’s making me numb.”

Your attempt to return his smile falls short. “I fear I may fail to salve boredom, if that’s what you hope. I’m not presently much for conversation.”

He quirks a grandfatherly brow. “Long night?”

If he wasn’t so kindly, you might be aggrieved he’s still insistent on chatting away through the night. But as it were, you just sigh. Staring out into the darkness beyond the city. 

“One longer has yet to grace me.”

“Say no more,” he says, understanding. “The quiet’s a balm for such things.”

Relieved, you take him up on such advice.

You stay on the wall with this stranger who feels somehow a friend for some time. Likely longer than you ought to. And it thaws you, inch by inch, of that worry which clings; enough till you finally clear your throat to speak, to somehow return this man's kindness. Though as you turn to say a word, a flicker of light in the distance instead captures your focus.

Standing straighter, you're drawn like a moth to that faraway glisten. Watching as one glimmer turns to four. Then a dozen. Then more. Unable to turn away from whatever those pinprick lights are as they loom so far across the horizon, like stars dragged over ground. Asking the graybeard, “Do you see that…?”

You hear the old man’s armor shifting as he seems to adjust his gaze.

“...Aye,” he says at last. “I see it.”

You cannot look away. And how some flickers of light can distress you, you fail fully to grasp or name why. “What is it?”

Silence, as the graybeard beside you stares.

“...M’not sure,” he utters at length. Perturbed, a touch, it seems. “Though whatever they are… They're getting closer.”

Reaching one grizzled hand toward his neck, the old man grasps a silver looking-glass from where it dangles upon his chest, raising it in scanning outward. And with a glance at him, you wait with bated breath for word of what's seen.

“...Too dark to see for certain,” he murmurs, his tone more weighed than before. His eye staying glued to his contraption. “...There’s perhaps two dozen… N’whatever they are, they’re too large to rightly be torches…”

For stretching moments, he stares outward, as do you. Until finally he offers you his looking-glass, slipping its delicate chain off from round his neck.

“Take a look,” he offers, and in disquietude you do, not so much as thinking to decline him. Something raising every fine hair on your skin, though the reason eludes. 

You see…

…Flames.

The distance holds them small, in the palm of its night-drenched hand, though with every second passed they grow larger. Wavering midst the shadows, as if lumbering side to side; as though flame itself's somehow walking.

You peer past the lens to stare with the naked eye again. And it's then you first feel it. The ground come so slowly to life. A sensation so subtle at first you cannot hear the distant thuds which crescendo each minute vibration, more and more, til you cannot deny them. A sort of hum. A twisting of earth. More rhythmic with each second dragged on.

Despite how vague and far those groans of earth, whatever could be their cause flashes images of horror inside your mind. Of something you’ve only heard tell of; a wickedness only since dreamed. Of machines, gnarled and vast, designed with the fuel of bodies. Tall as any tower. Barred as any gael. Fashioned for death and the installation of fear in any soul hapless enough to look upon them.

Just its image painted in your mind inscribes fear in you now, as was its architects intention.

You stumble back a step, eyes growing wide in the darkness as you stare at those ever-growing flames. And though you lack any proof of their purpose, some piece inside you knows what they are. Why they’re here.

The looking-glass tumbles with a delicate plink from your grasp, while the man beside you’s expression draws confusion.

“What is it?” he asks, but you’re already running. Down the bailey’s length, down stairs, through the courtyard's growing dim.

Sven.

You hear the graybeard’s horn sound behind you, and though you should find relief in what little solace its call to your father’s forces might bring you, you cannot care. It matters little. For surely those golems grow nearer with every lumbering step, and there’s nothing you or your father’s dwindling men can do to stop them, not if all tell you've heard about Messmer is true.

The ground further shakes, undeniable in what it might bring you, as you enter the sconce-scattered castle. Fighting the length of your damnable skirts as you bound in through the hallways as fast as you can, as already panic clouds your vision.

Messmer will feed your bodies to his golems one by one. Impale all others. Leave your ashes to rot on a graveyard of spears, your tombs like a forest. Your corpses charred black, with faces frozen in whatever terror his flames found you in; whatever anguish his spear brought before the mercy of death.

You run still faster; in past the broad, opened doorways of the dining hall, where merriment’s paused in favor of scattered, flummoxed eyes and panicked questioning, though even that you find hard to hear.

You need to find Sven. Need to drag him to any place far from here. You have to protect him, as he always has you–even from himself if you must, and such is his dauntless, stubborn pride that you likely will.

There’s no stopping what may come, you should have dragged him from this place far sooner, you–

You're too late.

You were too late–dammit, you–!

Reeling as you turn one hallway’s bend, you're forced to shove your way past those filing into the corridors; servants, guardsmen, guests, all traveling with purpose or else questioning if you're under attack. And it's nothing short of a blessing catching eye of Sven's height lingering above the masses, as he likewise spots you; gaze alight with relief as he fights his way toward you.

Lodged within the crowds of mismanaged havoc, he takes your arm and drags you further into the keep, beyond the rising panic of those behind you. 

The ground further quakes. Iron chandeliers overhead further quivering. 

How close must they be now? Those colossal, wandering flames?

“I saw them,” you tremble as Sven further leads you, knowing not where he guides, too dazed to question. “I saw them, Sven. The furnaces. I–I couldn’t–they were so far away, but they–”

“I should have sent you away this morning,” he says, almost to himself, which does nothing to allay that viperous terror twisting through you. Sounding to wrest up whatever hope he has left whilst adding, “Though it’s not too late.”

It’s then that you realize he’s leading you in the direction of the stables.

You seize his wrist; stopping him in his tracks as his impatient, worried expression turns across one shoulder, his gaze alone questioning whether you’ve succumbed to sudden madness.

“I won’t leave without you,” you tell him, knowing already his intent. That he’d send you off and remain behind here. As of course he would, seeing reason to fight, though you won’t allow it.

This stubborn, stubborn man.

He doesn’t answer. Instead attempting to drag you on again, though you dig your heels in as sediment trembles from the rumbling walls all around you. 

“I’m not leaving without you!”

You don’t mean to shout, but you do. 

He looks at you as though you’re a war he’s already lost.

“I can’t leave while the city needs defended,” he argues, resolve fused to his every sinew. 

His valor is nothing short of infuriating.

“Then I’m staying with you.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Should you put me on a mount I’ll simply ride right back,” you protest, gaze growing wild. “You can’t make me go anywhere unless you ride by my side in ensuring it!”

His look is of utter frustration. But as horns blare and some distant, bone-deep tremor once more shakes the earth, inspiring a ripple of far away screams in the castle, there isn’t time to dissuade you. And with an agitated breath, he diverts course in leading up a set of winding stairs–those leading toward the hallway of your bedroom, where he guides you with swiftness.

“Stay here,” he says, ushering you inside your chambers. Seeming barely to accept such a compromise. “Bar the door. Remain hidden. I’ll return for you.”

The rapid beating of hooves and heels sounds far below your bedroom's balcony window, and too soon Sven's turned to leave, with you grabbing his wrist before he is able. “Don’t go! Don’t… Don’t go out there, Sven…!”

Tears burn your eyes, their threat overwhelming your lashes, and the resolve of Sven's own expression crumbles somewhat to see it.

He takes your face gently in his both hands while you plead with him once more, “Don’t go…” Steering you just a touch closer in placing a kiss upon your brow.

“Do as I’ve told you,” he bids, resolutely. “Allow no other entrance. I’ll return here as soon as I’m able. You have my word of this.”

And with this, he is gone. His warmth left on your cheeks as tears spill where his touch had been.

You staunchly refuse the cruel suggestion of your heart; that this may be the last time you see him. Uncertain how you’ll barricade your door with no lock on its innermost side, though you’re desperate to keep your mind busy, to heed Sven’s instructions. So with great effort, you squeeze yourself in behind your bed’s massive headboard, barely managing to shove it inch by awkward inch away from the stone-hewn wall. Shoving with all your strength until the mass of it blockades the doorway.

Time is as much a weapon as any sword. And as you wait for your brother's return, heart tangled by vines in your chest, you seek to pry yourself from terror enough to stumble out onto your balcony, where night wraps you up in its arms.

The song of steel and iron grows ever louder from down below. Your view half-concealed by the edge of the castle. Horns sounding more in the darkness. The rumble of beasts and mounts and men shaking into the ground. And your strained eyes grow wider upon seeing a haze of flame glowing just outside the city, bewitching the air to a blistering hellscape of dancing cinder and molten fog.

Such a harrowing sight overwhelms you.

Whatever has come, it is here.

Your hands grip desperately to the terrace’s balustrade as the world around you abruptly lurches in place, and with a vicious crack one section of walls round the city erupts into pieces, struck by some mammoth blow beyond what your vision can see. Stones tumbling like naught more than ash as a behemoth lumbers in through the wreckage. A mountainous cage of a being, weighed slow by its body of metal; stomach burning with the piled corpses of past feasts. Its silhouette singed against darkness, twisted by hundreds of arms reaching out through the bars of its belly; burned slow enough to long to be free.

You long to look away, yet can scarcely remember to breathe. The cities outmost towers growing brighter with ashes and flame in a nauseating dance of destruction that would see all before it laid waste, as behind the crushed path of each furnace, Messmer's forces are free to bleed in. 

The city you've known all your life slowly transforms beyond all recognition. Your sense of time broken, sands scattered to the wind, as you watch the growing onslaught in horror. Your pupils shrinking from a vicious, sudden trail of horrid brightness as tendrils of flame lick the air, weaving through it, met soon by a chorus of screams that grow shrill before melting. Lungs scorched in a firestorm that sets the very sky on fire, and you've never seen anything like it. Like a dragon assaults your city, though even they cannot wield such a vicious flame.

You can do nothing but watch as fire tangles through buildings and streets. Your fingernails digging into your palms till the marks left behind may soon bleed.

Sven…

You… You can’t just stay here, sequestered in your room like this-!

You have to find him,

You have to help him–!

But if you leave, how might he find you amidst the chaos?

You have to stay here. He needs to know where you are when he surely comes back, for he will. He’ll come back. His word was given.

Villagers run through the streets as flame leaks its way its alleys; into the very reaches of your father’s keep, as its bailey comes crashing at the slam of a furnace golem’s gnarled excuse for a fist. And as your world shakes you hear Messmer’s men storming in through the courtyard. Hear the clashing of metal grow near. The screams of terror in hallways, all while fear tears through your bosom like an animal clawing to get out.

Where is your brother?!

It feels as though an eternity has held you breathless in its clutches, and as the sounds of war draw nearer, your walls feel to close in.

Footsteps soon sound within the corridor behind your shuttered doorway. Soldiers grunting, weapons clattering to the ground beside a distant woman’s shriek. And then the handle of your door’s taken hold of. The wood of it shuddered by what seems an impatient hand; rattled against how your bed keeps it fully from opening.

Your attention hones tightly toward it.

Sven…?

It remains as a thought, your throat’s tautness not letting you speak it. As you watch in a silence that would strip all reason raw while the door falls eerily still.

You’ve no time to react before your chamber’s entrance blasts violently open in a hailstorm of splintered wood and flame, whipping the room with embers as you stumble back and scream from the ruined blockade of your doorway. 

Snowflake cinders hang loosely in the air as your eyes strain through the rubble, and you know not the man who stands there in the wreckage, whose outline swirls amidst wisping smoke, though he’s wearing Messmer’s red. A pointed helm adorns his looming outline, its steeple skyward, and from his breadth a dripping crimson cowl falls lapping at his heels. Armored head to toe in blackened steel save the shape of his slowly smiling lips as he beholds you. And though you can’t see his gaze through the intricate, beak-like visor he wears, you you can feel his curious eyes scanning over your shape.

“Well… What have we here,” he croons above the distant hymn of bloodshed; that war below now muted by growing unease. “A hornless trollop all alone in her chambers… Tucked away, it would seem, just for me…”

His cruel lips curve as you instinctively falter from him, recoiling further toward the terrace at your back, even when its height would further trap you.

The man steps in through your doorway's ruin, unperturbed by anxious lack of welcoming him in.

“You aren’t quite as foul as the rest of them,” he observes, almost to himself. In no real hurry to approach you, as instead he makes a game of dread. Bits of broken wood twisting beneath his heavy, prowling footsteps as he draws ever closer, and though you glance to the ravaged doorway behind him, with him its gate its passage feels to shrink.

“Not the talkative sort?” he wonders, idly, with a falsely exhaustive sigh. “What a pity… I'd hear your tearful pleas, were it up to me.”

His drawing nearness springs a trap in you, and unthinkingly you try to flee. Though as you bolt in sprinting past him you find he’s far faster than you could have believed.

He’s snatched your wrist in his harshly armored grip before you can even flinch, his every finger steel and pointed. Flinging you without mercy onto the rubble of your bed as a cry tears from your chest, your body shaken as you tumble. 

“Such a morsel I’ve found myself,” he breathes, becoming feverish as a predator above prey. “You do look hornless… Though I’d be sure of it. Let us see if you have any defilements in places I haven’t yet seen, hm?”

Terror wraps fists around you, and though you scramble to get up, to run, he’s on you in an instant. The weight of him shackling you down against your ruined mattress on the floor. The snakelike scales of his ruby tabbard scraping up your kicking legs as he roughly straddles down your writhing form, and though you strike his half-masked face in desperation it does naught but scrape your fingers raw.

He laughs at the attempts to dissuade him. Snatching your wrists and squeezing until you fear your bones might crack.

“There’s that flame,” he croons, tone gleefully debased. “I thought for a moment you’d bore me. How long might that tiny flame flicker before tamping out, I wonder?”

With hungry hands, he grips and tears the flowing fabric of your gown at the seams, ripping it from your thighs as alarm makes you mindless, has you kicking out wildly in the attempt to be free.

“Let me go!” you scream, voice stripped by panic. “Let me go! Get off of me–!”

His breathy laughter’s a horrible thing. But all at once it’s frozen in his throat; locked away as his muscles all seize. Its cruelty marred instead to a painful choke, something congealed, as a swing of metal shears the air behind him, slashing through what seems his severed spine.

His form grows rigid with the realization of death. Wavering in how he pins you, before slumping down like a lifeless tree whilst your lungs are crushed beneath him. And though you fight to claw him off, his weight of steel proves too much for your waning strength.

Some hand seizes the cowl which drapes the dead man’s neck, tearing his body from you. And with a gasp of needed breath you’re overcome to see Sven, like a beacon above you; his red-slicked sword in hand.

Blood and ash fill the lines of his handsome face. Concern whiting his brow as he reaches down to take your shell-shocked hand.

There’s little time to coddle you.

“Are you hurt?”

Tension cleaves to every inch of you, though as you struggle to swallow, you also strive to nod your head. 

“I’m… I’m fine.”

The need to thank him once again for saving you, as it seems he always does, trembles past your mind with you too overwhelmed to fully grasp it. And Sven’s jaw is hard as he holds your trembling hand, his fingers weaving through your own.

“Come,” he says, not wasting words. Towing your stumbling fragility with him from the horror of your chambers. 

You haven’t made it far at all before the clamor of many footsteps resounding in these hallways soon assails you. And round the corridor's bend, just several yards before you, comes a cluster of soldiers in regalia you don’t recognize, so they must be Messmer’s men. Led by a knight in red like that of your bedroom.

Their party pauses upon sighting you, as does yourself and a stiffening Sven. His giant hand gripping yours more fiercely.

Silence, as time strips thin and the lot of you warily eye one another.

“You there,” the red knight says, his voice like brass. “You are the son of the false, impure king, unjustly throned in these lands, I presume?”

Shifting slowly forward, Sven secures himself one step before where you stand, stricken beside him.

“Would that I were,” he says, ever defiant. “What difference does it make?”

The knight before you slowly smiles, though its quick to fade away. 

“We’d make a sigil of your broken body in the courtyard,” he says. “I’d hoped to fell you outside. Alas, we must now drag you there, instead.”

The line of Sven's shoulders grows taut, before abruptly he shoves you from him, your hand stripped from his–pushing you further behind him.

“Go,” he orders, not glancing back. “Run.”

You tremble, and cannot move but to shake your head. Salt soon stinging your vision. Unwilling to obey him.

“No–”

“Go!” he shouts, yet still you cannot heed him. Will not heed him.

The red knight tilts his chin, gesturing three soldiers carry on before him. And already your brother’s sword is raised; knocking back one spear that would see him dead, and then the another. Repelling blows as each comes raining in, trading strikes through the bedlam.

He holds them off for much longer than any man rightly should, such is your brother, such is his mastery of sword. Sweat soaks his brow, blood spilling through his armor with every blow he fails to break. Felling two of Messmer's men as two more are sent by the man in red to take their place, and you're terrified he’ll tire before the end of them. 

You scarcely notice, at first, how beneath his steps bubbles forth a glowing pool of red.

You watch in pure horror as flames like vines slowly leak up through the cracks of the floorboards, tendrils of searching crimson, while Sven’s too caught by battle to heed them. And the moment you cry out for him to run is already a cry too late, as those flames burst forth with sudden violence. Flinging from their center a massive spear, pierced up from the very ground he stands on, as though formed from the shadow of his feet.

The spear flings forth with impossible strength, goring high into the ceiling like the shoot of a savage, crooked tree. It’s hilt still buried in the ground as its speartip thucks up high in the timber above you; piercing through Sven's middle, metal lifting through his ribs.

His body's rigid where he hangs, high above where once he'd stood fighting. And you forget what feeling even is as his body gradually falls limp. Sword slipped from wilting fingers. Clattering to the ground so far below his hanging feet.

All you can see is him and that spear he hangs on. An awful monument to a moment that will live with you forever. And you stare at this nightmare of him; balking backward. Stare, as your heart crumbles into pieces, and you can do nothing else. 

Sven…

You can’t find breath enough to even cry his name, though it trembles in the pit carved where your heart and lungs once lived.

Those soldiers still alive before you part within the haze that strangles your breath, making way as someone else approaches, though you hardly notice as you stand there. Defeated. Tears blurring your vision to a melted, burning thing. 

….Sven…!

He cannot hear those cries you fail to utter. And even should you scrape them from your chest, he’ll never hear your words again. Nor your larks. Nor your laughter. 

Just this once, you might've protected him. Just this once. Yet here you've failed him. 

“Do not prolong the inevitable,” a low, serrated voice condemns from midst your shrouded torment, and you blink away what tears you can, straining through grief to see a dreadfully towering man, so tall no common hallway could ever hope to hold him.

You’ve only heard tell of Messmer. That his hair is red as bloodied fire. That his eye, his only eye, is as gold as Marika’s sins. That two winged snakes adorn him, with agile minds and bodies it seemeth all their own. And yet even those two snakes now watch you, along with their wretched master. Their emerald eyes trained to your every movement, though you shift none.

You bite back your tears; anguish giving way to anger. Your jawline like glass, so hard and close to splintering, but still you’ll grit your jaw up at this red-maned savage as though on his neck you were clamping down, tearing the very life from him.

His captain steps forward, but Messmer’s lengthy, muscled arm raises scarcely enough to halt him in place, though his order's immediately heeded. And though his captain’s face lay hidden behind a snake-like helm so similar to Messmer’s own, you can sense the confusion which braces through him.

“Not her,” says Messmer, so low you scarcely hear him. And you stare, at this monstrous man, while he meets your gaze with what seems not an ounce of pity. 

His eye, you admit, is a strangely beguiling thing. Like a spell that might dissect the furthest reaches of you. Its gold so strangely brilliant, like a pinprick of flame, gnawing through the darkness.

“...Take her,” his deep voice at length breaks through the enchantment of his gaze, and you at once feel panic swell at such an order. “We couldst use another specimen for the storehouse.”

And then, he is gone; turned without another word said, as though he matters of much more import to attend to than whatever in any hell his decreed fate as ‘specimen’ might bring you.

You far prefer death.

When Messmer’s captain comes for you, obedient dog that he is, you immediately try to run only for your gown to snag you back within his clutches. And as he lifts you beneath one arm like a satchel of wheat, you snarl and you fight with every bit of strength remained in you; transformed into a hopeless, feral thing. Clawing at his legs, biting at his wrist despite his armor blunting every blow at him, until he slaps you so hard your vision blurs and all sound’s replaced by the ringing of your skull, your body hanging momentarily limp.

It does no good, your fighting, though you scream and writhe and fail to stave back tears as you’re carried from your father’s ruined castle.

The world outside is smoldering waste.

All is fire and ash. 

You see no one else left living.

You have nothing.

Nothing.

This demigod of flame has taken everything from you. Has burned away your heart to an ashen pit. And while you are still living, you will do everything within your power to gift him the very same.

[ AUTHORS NOTE ] f’s in chat for Sven, rip gone too soon 😔 I actually felt really bad killing him, but I wanted to give you a legitimate, visceral reason to hate Messmer so he had to go. Anyway thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts 💕

[oddlittlespider]

Fixing Frozen 3's questions at 2024's D23 Expo

On August 9–11, 2024 at D23, Frozen co-director Jennifer Lee revealed questions that may or may not be answered in Frozen 3:

Who gave Elsa her powers?

Why doesn't Anna have powers?

Was there a 5th Spirit before?

What kind of Queen will Anna be?

Will Kristoff be a King?

Do they want kids?

Where are Kristoff's parents?

How did Kristoff meet Sven?

How can Sven be so old and still so virile?

Why is Olaf alive?

What about Marshmallow and the snowgies?

Is it "Hoo Hoo" or it is "Yoo Hoo?"

Why are Elsa's powers still growing?

Why are there castle ruins throughout Athohallen?

Where do the nature spirits come from?

Do we need to beware the frozen heart?

Who is the Frozen Heart?

What happened to Hans?

One word: disappointing. These questions are like tossing dung at a wall and hoping one of them will stick. They are either incredibly redundant (e.g. Olaf alive, Elsa's powers growing), unnecessary (e.g. Kristoff meeting Sven, the origin of Elsa's powers, castle ruins, the spirits origin) or obvious throwaway questions (e.g. Yoo Hoo, Sven's virility).

And why are the only questions about Elsa all about her powers? Does Lee genuinely believe people only like Elsa because she has ice powers? Seriously look at the questions about Anna and Kristoff--these questions ask about their lifestyles. Do they want kids? What kind of rulers will they be? Meanwhile Elsa gets two questions and they're all about her POWERS.

And why are there no questions concerning the relationship between Anna and Elsa? I thought their sisterly bond was what Frozen was all about. Not Elsa's magic. Not convoluted mythology. Not Kristoff and Anna being rulers and starting a nuclear family. These questions are seriously missing a HUGE part of why Frozen became a hit.

So I've decided to formulate a different set of questions, or rather a more through set of questions, which build upon Lee's questions, and hopefully better address the characters and themes of Frozen and Frozen 2:

Characters

The personalities, the journeys they undergo, the choices they make, the consequences they endure, and the relationship they have with each other are vital to creating memorable characters that resonate with audiences. Frozen set the groundwork, Frozen 2 destroyed it, now its up to Frozen 3 to build it back.

Elsa

Is Elsa happy in Athohallen?

Does she miss being queen?

Does she miss living in Arendale with Anna?

What is her role as Fifth Spirit?

What does Elsa do in Athohallen?

Does she want a partner?

Does she want kids?

Does Elsa still have social anxiety or any other mental health issues she struggles with? How does this effect her new lifestyle?

What does Elsa think of Kristoff and his relationship with Anna?

Does Elsa think Kristoff will make a good king?

Has Elsa forgiven Hans?

Is Elsa the frozen heart?

Anna

Is Anna happy being queen?

Does she miss being princess?

Does she miss living with Elsa?

What does she think of Elsa abdicating the throne to live in Athohallen?

Is Anna ever worried about Elsa living in a glacier that tried to kill her?

What is her role as queen?

Does Anna feel she can be as good as a queen as Elsa?

Does she think Kristoff will make a good husband?

What does she think of Kristoff being king?

Does she want kids?

Has Anna forgiven Hans?

What does Anna think of her parents, specifically in how they treated Elsa and her as children?

What does she think of the trolls as her in-laws?

Kristoff

What does Kristoff think of being king?

How is Kristoff adjusting to his radically different lifestyle?

Does Kristoff miss being a ice harvester?

What do the people think of a commoner like Kristoff marrying the queen?

Does Kristoff still love ice?

What about Kristoff's misanthropy? Did that magically go away when he dated Anna?

Does Kristoff think he will make a good husband?

What does he think of Elsa's abdication?

What happened to his parents and why is he an orphan?

Does he want kids?

Hans

Will Hans return to the franchise?

Will Hans be redeemed?

Does he want revenge?

Does he still want the throne?

Will he ever find a place of his own?

What does Hans think of Anna as queen?

What does Hans think of Elsa's abdication?

What about his parents and twelve older brothers?

Did he have a abusive or neglectful childhood?

Is Hans still shoveling horse manure as his punishment?

Is Hans the frozen heart?

Olaf

How does Olaf feel about being the only sentient snowman of his kind?

Does Olaf wish he was human?

How do other people treat him?

Does Olaf see Elsa as his mother and Anna as his aunt?

Will Olaf reach adulthood?

Can Olaf physically grow?

Does he miss living with Elsa?

How does he feel knowing that if Elsa dies he will die as well?

Will Olaf ever stop being a insufferable edgelord? (lol)

Themes

Old and new themes to explore....

Sisterhood. How does living separately effect Anna and Elsa's relationship? How does Elsa cope without Anna's constant presence and unwavering support? How does Anna cope without Elsa's compassion and wisdom? Will living separately cause the divide between them to deepen?

Fear and isolation. Is Elsa afraid of being alone? Is Elsa afraid of her powers spiraling out of control again? Is Anna afraid of failing to live up to expectations as queen? Does she feel lonely without Elsa always by her side? Is being queen a lonely endeavor? Is Elsa afraid of Athohallen (it literally froze and held her hostage when she got too curious, lol)?

The duty/role of a ruler. Now that Anna is queen, how does that effect the people? What do they think of Elsa's abdication? What do they think of Anna being queen? What do they think of Kristoff being their king? What are the qualities of a good ruler? What sort of constitutional duties are there to perform?

Self-discovery and transformation. How will Elsa and Anna discover new things about themselves or about each other? Will the journey they undergo change them for the better or the worst? Will Elsa's role as fifth spirit drive her further from her humanity? Will Anna's role as queen isolate her from her sister and her people or drive her closer to both?

Redemption and forgiveness. In Frozen, Elsa redeemed herself when she thawed Arendale. The people, who she had nearly accidently killed, forgave her and happily ice skated with her at the end. If Hans is redeemed in Frozen 3 then the theme can continue anew. Redemption is all about transformation. Can someone flawed change for the better? Or are some people's crimes so evil that they are irredeemable? Can we forgive those who wronged us even if they aren't sorry?

Norse mythology. Fate, rebirth, knowledge, sacrifice are a few of the central themes of Norse mythology. The Æsir (e.g.  Odin, Frigg, Thor, Loki, Balder, Hod, Heimdall and Tyr) and Vanir (e.g. Njord, Freyr, and Freyja), the Nine Realms, Yggsdrasil. How can they be weaved convincingly into Frozen 3, when 1) it takes place in 18th century Norway and 2) the first film was largely based on a fairytale and classic disney references? Will they ever acknowledge how Christianity replaced paganism? (probably not since this is Disney).

Conclusion

What do you think? Feel free to add some questions. Please be respectful.

[sunflowers-and-sandwiches]

Kings and Queens

Please do NOT use or repost my artwork for any purpose without express permission. Respect creators and their copyright!

The mysterious mists that once enveloped the Enchanted Forest return, seeking. Queen Anna and Kristoff travel to liaise with Elsa and the new leader of the Northuldra, but are attacked. In protecting Anna, Kristoff and Sven are sucked into the mist. Anna now alone on the blizzard strewn mountain.

Inside the mist, Kristoff and Sven are merged temporarily and He becomes a gatekeeper of realms, King of the Inbetween? When they merge they access that magic and become an amplifier for Anna and Elsa’s own abilities, not controlling them but empowering them. But when the Reindeer King is returned to Arendelle, a menacing presence is also drawn from the rift. ‘We have always feared Elsa's powers were too much for this world, now, we must pray they are enough.’

@firawren A bit of reindeer magic….

[violenteconomics]

Your first year oneshots are so big-brained I love reading them all :)) What would the first year gang do if they found out Yuu had found a way home but because of timing issues, they didn't get to say goodbye? (Other brainrot idea which could be with this idea or seperate, Yuu Hometown event where the First Year gang get to visit Yuu's world for a couple of days 👀)

anything 4 u, baby.

the idea of what the first-years will do after yuu goes home is already sad, but you dare bring up the possibility that yuu won't get to say goodbye??? how could you /affectionate

like, i sort of imagine this to be a "seven years later" scenario, where all of the first-years have drifted apart without yuu's grounding presence. they were the ones who brought them all together, after all, and now they're just... gone. (inspired, i admit, by this AMAZING first-years fanfic right here!)

the freshmen have all done their best to move on with their lives — ace has joined riddle's popular legal firm as his suave and smooth-talking legal partner; epel is at harveston, working on an potion that's going to revolutionize farming forever; jack is a rising star in the world of winter sports; deuce is working hard as a respected member of the royal guard; ortho has founded a popular video game studio that specializes in rpgs; and sebek has begun a humble little life as the owner of bookstore, too burned by the best friendship of his life ending in such an abrupt manner to even think about returning to how life used to be.

but the stories of their once legendary friendship continues to spread through the halls of night raven college, even though it's been a while since they've graduated. nobody really knows their names, but they do know them.

the intelligent heart. the good-natured spade. the honorable wolf. the persevering apple. the optimistic flame. the loyal knight. and of course, the underestimated companion.

they've become legends, almost like the the great seven of old, for their ability to withstand so much, yet come out stronger all the same.

(until they day they just... disappeared from public view altogether.)

and so, everyone notices when history starts to repeat itself.

at this point, jack has taken a mentee under his tail — a young teen named magne beihof (twisted from sven from "frozen (2013)"). one day, magne comes running up to him, excitedly holding an invitation to night raven college. jack congratulates him, but secretly, he can't help the feeling of dread crawling up his back... and he's not even sure why. maybe because sven's too nice for nrc, but he's strong enough that jack's not too worried about that. he takes him out for carrot soup to celebrate, but the trepidation never goes way.

it comes to him when magne leaves for school, and starts writing to him about how weird his orientation was... about a random girl who just showed up, claiming to be from another world... about a nice person he met from ignihyde... until magne's eventually going on and on about how nice his new friends are and how much fun they're having and how stressed his housewarden has been lately...

and jack panics.

he furiously starts looking up the mailing addresses of the others and writing to them. he doesn't if they'll answer or even read it, but he just has to tell someone before the worst can occur.

to his surprise, they all end up responding, agreeing to meet with him at his house to discuss it further. turns out, this pattern of history repeating itself goes even further than just story beats. ace and ortho's interns, one of deuce's junior knights, one of epel's baby cousins, and the kid who comes by sebek's bookstore every saturday are all freshmen at night raven college... and all of them are part of sven's little friend group.

on a whim, jack writes yuu a letter, too, that simply says:

Yuu,

I'm worried.

Jack

he obviously doesn't expect a response, so he leaves the letter on the top of his bookshelf, expecting it to just collect dust. so imagine his surprise when it goes missing, and suddenly there's a letter on his bed, with a stamp on it from a place he doesn't recognize.

he reads it, and it says:

Jack,

I can't find my little sister.

Is she with you?

Yuu.

and jack's world comes crashing down.

///

(or, to make this less ominous, maybe the new freshmen plot never happens, and jack just decides to write letters to yuu who somehow recieves them. this eventually spirals into the freshmen making a large package and stuffing themselves inside to test a theory, only for yuu to open the lid and find their long-lost friends inside.

cue a fluffy reunion, and a nice yuu hometown event :3)

[joznii]

howd it break? idk maybe it was svens fault and for once he did feel bad so he fixed it,,, one of svens primary skills is blacksmithing so. thats where the idea came from.

also sven stealing faendals bow and returning it thereby accidentally invoking the rite of theft. faendal flat out asks him what he wants all mad and sven (who has no knowledge of bosmeri customs) makes a ‘joke’ like “oh a kiss lmaoo” sarcastically to piss him off except faendal does infact smooch him but ohhh noo now its weird because they both liked it ohhhh nooooo

[cockybusiness]

Lovechild! Sven returns- from the future!!

xD

Patreon Update!

[greatqueenanna]

Frozen 3 - What We Know So Far - 2024

(Note - official F3 concept art released during D23 2024)

(Edit on 9/30/24 - Added the news that Jennifer Lee is actually returning to direct and write Frozen 3 along side Marc Smith.)

(Edit on 6/9/24 - Added the confirmation of Kristen Bell's return and made some grammar corrections.)

(Edit on 8/10/24 - Added new information released during D23 August, 2024)

(Edit on 8/13/24 - Changing some misleading wording choices, fixing some grammar mistakes, and adding quote from D23.)

(Edit on 8/14/24 - Added alleged release date for F3.)

(Edit on 8/23/24 - Added confirmed release date (or, goal) and some development)

As with the my 2023 F3 news post, I wanted to make a post that highlights everything we learn in 2024. I have linked the previous year's post below, so you can see the articles and references directly.

This post will be updated the more we learn about Frozen 3. Keep checking to see if any new news is added as the year goes by.

What We Know So Far - 2023

-----

What We Know

Frozen 3 is releasing in November 24th, 2027. It was delayed from 2026. Jennifer Lee confirmed that they are aiming for this date.

Frozen 3 is having its story separated into two films.

The team is working on F3 and F4 at the same time.

F3 and F4 are still in early development.

Jennifer Lee and Marc Smith are directing and writing the films.

Idina Menzel and Josh Gad have confirmed that they are returning. Kristen Bell has also confirmed, but through a temporary Instagram story.

The Lopezes are returning to write the songs.

Only the main films (and possibly short films as well) will be considered canon to F3 and F4.

The writers are trying to answer lingering questions, including more Ahtohallan and Nature Spirits lore, more explanation about Elsa's powers and why Anna does not have magic, Anna's role as Queen, Anna and Kristoff's future plans for children, if Kristoff will be King, Kristoff and Sven's past, what happened to Prince Hans, and more about the Frozen Heart concept.

It has been confirmed that no story leaks have released online, and everything has been kept a secret.

What We Don't Know

Frozen 4 release date.

If Johnathan Groff, or any other major voice actor is returning to the project. Although, it is heavily implied that at least Johnathan Groff will return.

If Chris Buck, director of the previous two films and Frozen Fever, is returning to the project.

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More information and article and video links under the read more.

A couple articles and videos that were missed in 2023.

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In November, Josh Gad did an interview on The View to discuss his new Broadway show Gutenberg! The Musical. Here, he also teased that Frozen 3's story will be Mind blowing, and also hinted that the entire cast of the main five protagonists will return.

"I could share things with you, but Disney would literally escort me out of the building with armed security No, apparently there are two Frozen sequels in development right now — surprise! Equally surprised — and I know Jennifer Lee, who wrote and directed the first two, is hard at work with the team right now. I’ve heard a little bit and I can tell you guys, it’s pretty mind-blowing what’s coming. It’s pretty exciting. And it’s been so great because Kristen, Idina and Jonathan have all come to be guest producers on Gutenberg! The Musical. So we’ll come backstage and we’ll all talk Frozen and then talk this other thing." - Josh Gad

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Also in November, Jennifer Lee did another interview, this time with GamesRadar, where she claimed that Frozen 3 has a lot of story to tell, and that is why it was separated into two films.

"We're really excited about where they're going, and we just have a lot of story to tell with that direction we're going in. So, I think, in my head, there may be enough for two in that story. But I'm really, really loving working with the team and where they're going." - Jennifer Lee

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Later on in December, Peter Del Vecho did an interview with The Direct while promoting Wish, where he claimed that the story of Frozen 3 will be amazing.

“Look, we only do sequels if we believe there's enough story to tell. They're working on it up in development, I'm focused on 'Wish'. But it is exciting what they're working on. I will say anything that you read about it in the public, we haven't said anything about it. So it's all conjecture, but I trust that it's going to be amazing." - Peter Del Vecho

Articles and videos from 2024.

The first major news we got in 2024 was in February, when Frozen 3's released year was announced. Bob Iger confirmed that along with Toy Story 5, Frozen 3 was set to release in 2026.

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On August 10th, 2024 - D23 brought a lot of Frozen 3 news, including the announcement of the delay to 2027, and some major questions that could lead to the main plot points of the two part film. Recording of Jennifer Lee's announcement at D23 provided by the user Keena Kindragon on Youtube.

“Coming out of Frozen 2, we still had some questions. A lot of questions actually. That was just page one. Now you know why it will take two films to answer them. Just a tease, again, just a tease(…). We are very early on, this is development art, don’t hold me to it. But if you look closely, it captures the seeds of the next epic adventure of Anna and Elsa. And some things might spark, we hope, a few new questions for all of you. Everyone at Walt Disney Animation is so excited to be back in this world, and we would not have this opportunity if it were not for all of you.”

— Jennifer Lee, D23

A more closer look at the new concept art, new logo, and questions provided below -

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On the same day, Josh Gad confirmed the release date and also showed the leaked logo artwork that was originally thought to be fake, but might actually be either an early concept or alternate version. Photo provided by @frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers

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On August 13th, Deadline released an article with release dates for multiple Disney projects, including Frozen 3. Without any official Disney sources, they stated that the release date is November 24th, 2027.

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Thanks to @frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers, another interview was given by Jennifer Lee for Fundago on 8/21/24 where she confirmed that they are aiming for November 24th, 2027 release, that they are very early on, and that they are working on F3 and F4 at the same time.

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On September 19th, a major update was released. Jennifer Lee would be stepping down as head of WDAS to focus more on film-making and writing again. She would officially (as expected, if you ask me) become the Director and writer of Frozen 3 and 4, along side Marc Smith. This is the first time we get full confirmation that Marc Smith is indeed directing and/or writing the films.

I am so grateful to Bob and Alan for supporting my decision to return to filmmaking full time. Every day working with them is a master class in creativity, business, community, and integrity. I’ve always believed in Jared’s incredible talent and can’t wait to see, with his passion and dedication to animation, what he brings to the CCO role. For me, getting to collaborate with this studio of artists, animators, and storytellers is such a privilege, and I look forward to all we will create together. — Jennifer Lee, Deadline

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[meltthefrozenheart]

FROZEN 3 D23 ANNOUNCEMENT! AND THERE SO MUCH TO DISCUSS

Interesting that the question right after Elsa's powers is about Hans whereabouts considering THREE YEARS passed between Frozen and Frozen 2. I don't need to see him actually redeemed, just bring him back:

But that is not all: we have a ton of freaking interesting questions about basically all the characters. I want to see Anna struggle with her new role as well as seeing Kristoff having deep doubts about his life changing so much (basically his deleted Frozen 2 arc).

And Kristoff's parents? Damn, they are seriously going there? That's amazing! And even how he met Sven!!! YEAH! But I hope Sven's "unnatural" life span is just a joke just like Oaken's "Hoo Hoo"... I mean, it's a cartoon, you don't need to be 100% accurate to reality, but we will see.

Returning concepts like the 5th Spirit and the Frozen Heart are a sign that, just like Frozen 2 for Frozen 1, these two new installment are going to circle back to what we saw previously to give it even more sense!

The concept is interesting, of course this is only A basic idea of where the story is going:

Anna and Elsa are in their Frozen 2 designs, so not much there. It seems Spring, which would follow the season logic (F1 Summer, F2 Fall). The magical castle is super interesting because it seems to appear out of the Northen Lights, with also those two figures, which seem to be wearing horned helmets (at least it seems from the distance). Maybe Kristoff's parents? Or maybe some entities, to early for now. We have two movies, no issues we new characters

Olaf notices a misteryous figure with horns and a spear. An actual new antagonist? Or an old foe (one of my fantasies is Hans coming back by living in the wild and spotting an armour or traveler's outfit, maybe it will become true?). So far nothing about the Northuldra, but it's early to know anything concrete.

As Jennifer Lee herself said, they are pretty early in development, so we will have to be patient.

I don't even care that it will come out in 2027, I have a life to live 🤣🤣🤣

[thekinkyleopard]

A Rough Night

A Sven & Elex Snz Drabble

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Allergens, Snz, Violence, Cursing

Description: The boys try to escape the stress by heading out to the bar. Yet, it doesn’t go well when a nearby patron triggers the badger’s sensitive allergies!

Author’s Notes: Oh….Hey guys 😅 I’ve had this one sitting for about a month and haven’t had the will to write because well….my life has been insane while going through this divorce, moving, meeting someone new and trying to figure my shit out. 😭 Found myself with the slight will to live tonight, so I finished this idea up! Theres no smut, I KNOW IM SORRY….but I had a lot of fun writing this out. Hope you all enjoy and I’m sorry I’m constantly coming and going. Been a rough year. I love yall who still interact and wait patiently for my next release. You real ones 🥺💚 @aller-geez Owns Sven and did the cover art!

Elex and Sven pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the sounds of raucous laughter and clinking glasses assaulted their ears. The dimly lit bar was filled with a thick haze of smoke, making it difficult to see through the throngs of people milling about. Elex, with his dull green hair, felt like an alien in this dingy establishment. He wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming stench of stale beer and sweat that hung heavily in the air. "Ugh, this place fuckin’ stinks," he grumbled, his mismatched eyes scanning the crowd, disgusted at the faces that lingered upon them. His annoyance at having to be there was palpable while they stood just inside the entrance.

“Don’t be such a sour puss, Els, I need this night out, and I need a couple drinks to unwind, we’ve been cooped up in the house for WEEKS,” the Cheshire pouted, sticking his tongue out playfully at his somewhat grumpy boyfriend. In response, Elex rolled his eyes in a mixture of annoyance and resignation.

“We’re here aren’t we? Stop your bitchin’ lets go get drunk,” reaching out to grip his boyfriend by the wrist, knowing the hand would be too intimate in such a public setting. Sven was used to this behavior by now and didn’t care, so long as he got to do what they came there to do. Get ripped, yap, maybe snack on some peanuts, and go back home. An adult version of touching some grass. They each walked up to the bar and slid into the empty barstools provided, next to an older gentleman on one side, and a younger on the other. Elex scowled unpleasantly from a side view glance as he slipped into his seat. “Whiskey on the rocks,” the badger ordered off his drink of choice for the night. “Same thing,” Sven chirped with a quick raise of his index before swinging his body slightly over to face more in the other’s direction. “So, tomorrow, I’m thinking about upgrading our internet services, shit is too fuckin’ slow to achieve the game play and stream from what we have currently…it’s fuckin’ up my views,” he pushed back a few strands of stray teal hair that dangled just above his orange gaze. As the bartender slid them their drinks, Elex nodded toward the man before returning his attention to 7. “Yeah okay, well how much extra is that gonna run us do you know? We have some wiggle room but not if the bill goes from $50 to $200….I don’t know….” feeling rather skeptical of all the ways Sven’s streaming has sort of cost them between his personal build, games, internet, and other equipment. He was glad his boyfriend had something he enjoyed doing, and was even able to make a good profit off it, but it felt like everyday he was buying some high tech keyboard, or upping their bills which made it feel like they weren’t really progressing financially. It was starting to stress the badger out, he hadn’t been getting any marks lately since the police were on high alert. Some seasons were just better than others so he had been relying on selling copper, but he was running low on spots to harvest from. It was a miracle they were even making ends meet.

Sven lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his alcoholic beverage. His body language exuded nonchalance, as if their conversation was about something insignificant and unimportant, he shrugged. Elex could see the indifference in Sven's eyes and it only fueled his own anger. He could feel the heat rising in his chest as he tried to keep his emotions in check. The clinking of ice cubes echoed in the background, a stark contrast to the tension between the two men. “Just a shrug? Seriously? Sven you know we’ve been relying on MY shit to keep us afloat, your fuckin’ video games aren’t paying bills,” his voice cut through like a sharp knife through the chest. “They’re not? Then how did we get $200 worth of groceries yesterday?” With an intense narrowing of his vibrant orange eyes, he directed a heated glare towards his boyfriend. The thoughtless disregard for his feelings left him stunned and incredulous. He internally scoffed, his ‘fucking video games’….as if streaming wasn’t a real line of work. “You’re about to really piss me off….Yes that is useful but our MORTGAGE, and the PG&E, and you know, CAR payments….shit is adding up and every fuckin’ week there’s something new added to the list of your god damn bullshit…I support you wanting to chase a passion but not when it’s effecting the life we have worked so hard to build,” Elex quickly downed the remainder of his drink, wishing for a slight buzz to ease the hopelessness he felt in this conversation.

“Look, I get it, but it fuckin’ takes money to make it so, MAYBE, get off my ass a little bit…can we talk about this later? When we ARENT trying to just enjoy the evening?” With an exasperated shake of his head and a dismissive roll of his eyes, Sven reached out for his glass, the ice cubes clinking against the sides as he lifted it to his lips. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Els knocked on the wooden bar with his knuckles, signaling to the busy bartender for another drink. The sound of glasses clinking and people talking filled the air of the crowded bar, but Elex was lost in his own thoughts as he waited for his order to be fulfilled. Finally, the bartender caught his signal and obliged, sliding a fresh glass towards him with practiced ease.

“Fine but you’re not go-…n..H’…Hih…” he struggled suddenly, noticeably, his mouth started to jar open and it hit him unexpectedly. The older man next to him, had taken off his jacket, wafting a gust of fragrant air directly within Elex’s personal space. “Son of a -…H’UhtTSCHhiew! h’Ushh’iew! etUSCHOOOO!” a sudden series of sneezes escaped his body, his eyes watering, nose and throat suddenly itchier than they’d been in a long time. Was that Gain? Tide pods? He didn’t know, all he knew was the asshole beside him was sending him into a full tizzy. He sniffled gently trying to hide the fact he was slowly turning into a leaking mess, grabbing a bar napkin to wipe his nose carefully. “Shit, you good Els?” Sven reached out to comfort his boyfriend, a flattened palm against his back. The heated urgency of their conversation suddenly melting away when he realized the storm had hit his lover. “Y-Yeah I’m F-…hh’IEXsHHH! H’UMFShhhhiew! h’USSHH!!” it came out full force, he did what he could to capture them within the confines of the napkin he clutched within his palm. Just great, just what he needed on a night out to relax, typical. “Bless you, El…” Sven getting slightly worried they may actually have to just head back home, maybe pick up some drinks from the gas station instead, despite how badly Sven needed a change of pace. “We can head home if you wa-….” “No, we’re nod leabing….SndFff,” he snuffled loudly, trying to snort up any of the excessive leakage that threatened to pour down his face. This was the absolute worst. Curse him and his rat ass allergies. He hucked and hacked, his mouth jarring open and closed as he fought against the allergens making a nest within his sinuses. The bartender slid them their second drinks, taking longer as the bar filled up with more and more patrons. A few people turning to glance with an aura of judgement, but the badger glared daggers and they quickly turned away. “Nosey fuckin-….Hh’uhSSCCHHHHwww! ehh’TSHIEW! hh’IEXSH!!” this time the green haired man blew within the crook of his arm, wetting the spot of skin there with a plume of saliva. “Gross….” he groaned weakly, irritated he didn’t have a whole lot of room to release. “Babe seriously we can just….” suddenly cut off by a lifted brown speckled palm. “Stop, jusd dring your fuggin shid, SNDfF,” He let out a loud, wet snort and reached for the small package of tissues inside the pocket of his jeans. His nose was red and moist from the constant blows as he battled with the scent that still lingered around him. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his congested sinuses but only felt the sharp sting of pain in his nostrils.

“Hey, guy, can you fuckin’ not? You’re grossing us all out,” A random person from across the way chimed in with a snarky remark. The badger slowly turned his head, almost like something out of a horror movie, and locked eyes with the person before responding without hesitation.

“Cope, fugg fade,” retorting so quickly it took the man almost by surprise, blinking a few times to make sure he had heard the badger correctly. “What was that, bro?” he challenged, finishing his beer and slamming the empty glass bottle down on the wooden bar. Elex scoffed, sniffling a bit to try and prepare himself for another response. “Cope. Fugg. Fade.” he said it slowly, emphasizing each word though sounding less intimidating with a stuffed up nose. It didn’t stop him as he stared the patron down with watery daggers. The whites of his eyes had already started to redden.

The tension in the bar thickened as the confrontation escalated. Elex could feel a wave of exhaustion wash over him, fatigue setting into his bones from both the argument with Sven and the relentless assault on his senses brought on by his sudden allergies. He longed for nothing more than to escape this suffocating atmosphere, to retreat to the familiarity of his own space where he could gather his thoughts in peace.

Sven, sensing the volatile energy crackling around them, placed a steadying hand on Elex's shoulder. Despite their disagreement, he knew that Elex needed support now more than ever. “Let’s get out of here,” Sven spoke softly, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the bar.

With a swift motion, the badger slid his shoulder out from under the cat’s palm, Sven’s arm falling back down to his side. ‘Shit…’ The Cheshire cursed from within. The bomb had been set off and it was only a matter of time before his boyfriend started swinging.

“Oh, so we’re going to have a problem then?” the man stood up straighter, walking over and standing within a few inches of the green haired ticking time bomb. Elex snickered with a cocky resolve, standing up himself and meeting the other man eye to eye.

“Loogs, do me, you’re the only one with the problem here, fugg nugged,” his lips pulled up to reveal a strikingly white pair of sharpened teeth that complemented the long fangs that always stuck out past his lips. “Wanna dance?” it actually felt relieving to take a stand at this point, giving him a bit of, slightly fresher air to escape the scent of the old man’s detergent that lingered on his clothing.

In that charged moment, the bar seemed to hold its breath, everyone's attention drawn to the brewing confrontation between Elex and the stranger. The man's eyes flashed with anger as he clenched his fists, ready to take things to the next level. However, just before anyone could throw a hit, the badger’s sinuses betrayed him into another set of expressive blows. “Ehh’tshhhhiew!!" h’USHh’iEW!” without time to cover himself, the badger openly, and almost proudly, sneezed a cloud of spittle and spray across the other man’s face.

“What the FUCK!?” the guy exclaimed with rage, getting ready to charge up his fist and bring it across the space to Elex’s jaw, but missed as the badger took a quick side step to avoid him. All the while blotting, and dabbing at his insanely runny nose that threatened to drip down his lips and chin. Elex chuckled, wiping his face clean with the last tissue in his package.

“Oh goody, my turn,” he smirked as he tossed the crumpled tissue aside and lunged forward with surprising agility, socking the man square in the nose a loud crack echoing the space between them all. The bar erupted into chaos as the two men grappled, fists flying and bodies colliding in a whirlwind of aggression. Sven watched in shock, torn between wanting to intervene and knowing that Elex needed to work through his frustrations on his own terms.

Amidst the chaos, a burly bouncer seemed to materialize, his massive form cutting through the crowd like a battleship in a stormy sea. With a swift motion, he hoisted both Elex and the stranger apart, their struggles becoming feeble against the bouncer's iron grip.

"Alright, that's enough out of both of you!" the bouncer boomed, his voice commanding attention from every corner of the bar. Elex panted, his chest heaving as he shot a defiant glare at the man who had provoked him.

Sven rushed forward, placing himself between Elex and the stranger. "Sven...get the fuck out of the way," the man growled, his voice thick with anger as he tried to maneuver around Sven to get to the bleeding patron. But the bouncer held him back with a firm grip, his massive arms like steel beams that refused to budge.

"Elex, enough!" Sven's voice was urgent, pleading as he turned to the badger. "Let's go. Now." having to be the only voice of reason to which the heated badger would obey. Sliding two twenties onto the bar before working to rush his heated lover out of the bar.

Elex stood there, breathing heavily as he eyed the stranger who was still struggling against the bouncer's hold. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to make another move, but then he relented with a frustrated huff.

"Fine," Elex finally replied, brushing past Sven and making his way towards the exit of the bar. Sven followed closely behind, shooting a quick apologetic glance at the stranger before hurrying after his boyfriend.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Elex took a deep breath and leaned against the brick wall of the establishment, the icy night air hitting his weakened lungs he started to realize just how bad of shape he was in from the allergy attack, now that the adrenaline was wavering. He gasped as he worked to regulate himself.

Sven stood beside him, his gaze filled with concern as he watched Elex's labored breathing. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small inhaler, offering it to the badger.

"Here, use this," Sven spoke softly, his voice laced with worry. Elex hesitated for a moment before taking the inhaler and pressing it to his lips, inhaling deeply as the soothing medication traveled through his lungs. The tightness in his chest began to ease, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Thanks," Elex murmured, handing the inhaler back to Sven. The cat nodded, tucking it back into his pocket before turning his attention back to the badger.

"Are you okay?" Sven asked, his eyes searching Elex's for any sign of distress. The green haired man gave him a small nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, I'm okay…feel actually a whole lot better now that I’m not suffocating under the scent of that guy’s clothes…snDfff…” he sniffled roughly, trying to break through the stuffed bridge of his nose. Despite the scuffle, the badger barely walked out with a scratch, but the same couldn’t be said for the other man.

“What am I going to do with you? Seriously, you’re lucky if he doesn’t charge you with assault! Dumbass!” scolding his boyfriend for the way he had unleashed his pent up rage upon the stranger.

“Hey, he swung first,” shrugging his shoulders before pulling a pack of cigarettes out from his pocket. Sven sighed in exasperation, watching as Elex flicked a cigarette out of the pack and lit it up with a practiced hand. He knew it was pointless to argue with the stubborn badger when he was in this mood, so he simply stood there in silence, the cool night air weaving around them like a comforting blanket.

As Elex took a drag from his cigarette, he exhaled a cloud of smoke that mingled with the night, disappearing into the darkness above. The tension that had gripped him earlier seemed to dissipate with each puff, the adrenaline from the fight slowly ebbing away.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Sven finally spoke. "We should probably get out of here before the bouncer comes out and starts asking for names," he suggested, his voice calm but firm. Elex glanced over at him, taking in the concern etched on his features.

"Yeah, you're right," Elex replied, crushing the stub of his cigarette under his boot. With a final release of smoke from between his lips he lazily slung an arm around the cat’s waist. Unusual for the badger to display such affections, the cat narrowed his eyebrows and looked his lover up and down.

“You good?” The Cheshire asked cautiously, but leaning into the intimacy.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Elex responded with a soft smile, his usual tough exterior cracking to reveal a vulnerable side that only Sven seemed to elicit. The cat returned the smile, his worries easing as he felt the warmth of Elex’s touch against his side.

Together, they walked into the night, the street lamps casting a soft glow over their figures as they navigated the emptying streets. The events of the evening lingered in the air between them, but there was also an unspoken understanding that they would face whatever came their way together. Even if it meant being broke for a while to make sure Sven could set up his dream. Suddenly, those problems seemed less worrying after Elex was able to let off some steam.

As they turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows of the night, a sense of calm settled over them. In that moment, all that mattered was each other, their bond unbreakable in the face of any asshole that tried to ruin their good night. There was still time to turn things around.

And so, with the badger’s arm secured around his taller counterpart, Elex and Sven ventured into the unknown night, ready to face the rest of their evening in the comfort of their own home, albeit, with a quick stop at the liquor store for snacks and whiskey.

The End

Author’s Notes: I know I know, it’s short and sexless, but wasn’t that fun? 😍 I love angry Elex, being mean and beating people up while suffering from allergies. 🤧 I enjoyed it, I hope you did too!