#write your representatives

[lorddocmarten]

Growing up with a mom who worked in Academia means I have the beautiful ability to write passive-aggressively polite emails.

[voices-haunted-our-stardust]

If you live in the United States, please write your representative to rescind the 20 Medals of Honor granted to soldiers who participated in the Wounded Knee Massacre.

For those who may not know, in 1890, the U.S. Calvary murdered 300 men, women and children at Wounded Knee Creek. These cowards do not deserve a medal of honor for a slaughter of those peaceful Lakota tribe.

The link brings you to an email that is prewritten, but you can (and should) customize it to include your personal opinion.

[ivygorgon]

Hey everyone,

Quick favor – I stumbled upon this cool thing to support voting rights. JESSCRAVEN101 just posted about "Pass the Freedom to Vote / John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act." It's super easy to sign – just text "Sign PDDVHM" to 50409

And you can read it first;

Let's make our voices heard together!

Cheers!

[katie5000]

Perhaps we should all contact our representatives and see if we can get it made into a holiday.

Hey. Why isn’t the moon landing a national holiday in the US. Isn’t that fucked up? Does anyone else think that’s absurd?

[harrowharkwife]

i'm so used to there just being random unidentified bones laying around everywhere in these damn books that it finally occurred to me, just now, to wonder where the bones on new rho came from. y'know, the bones palamedes always tried to teach nona necromancy on.

they're his.

palamedes, who always loved teaching, living on borrowed time in a body that's not his own. palamedes, mentoring, teaching- parenting, by sixth standards, mind you. and that boy is sixth, through and through.

and the entire point of teaching nona necromancy in the first place was to try and determine if nona is, well, nonagesimus, right? so it has to be bones, it can't not be bones. bones are, like, her whole thing.

but they're not in the nine houses, anymore. things are different, on new rho.

they burn bones here. dig up the cemeteries. a society terrified of zombies will evolve to dispose of its dead differently.

the only bones he has access to now are his own. (camilla wouldn't let anyone take them- skull or hand, doesn't matter. they're still him, and she doesn't let go, remember? it's her one thing.)

palamedes woke up every morning wearing someone else's body to then gently place the shrapnel of his own in the cupped palms of a girl who's the closest thing he'll ever have to a daughter and try to teach her- how did the angel put it, again? normal school, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

(but hey, in a roundabout way, at least it's a chance for him to touch camilla again, right? nevermind that she's not there to feel any of it because he's in the driver's seat, that he can only stay for fifteen minutes at a time. it's atoms that belong to camilla touching atoms that used to belong to him, and that's close enough. he'll take what he can get, these days- if she can be their flesh, he can be the end. so what if holding his own bones is a mindfuck? so what if looking at them makes him nauseous? surely he can suck it up and deal with it for fifteen minutes. it's the least he can do— his poor camilla was the one who had to scrape the bloody pulp of them off the floors of canaan house.)

(speaking of, here's a fun fact: we actually only see nona practicing with the bones one time, on-page. camilla's final line in that scene, before palamedes takes over, is none other than: 'keep going. there are some bones left.' ow!)

remember, too, that the only part of dulcinea, the real dulcinea, that palamedes ever physically touched, was her tooth- the one that ianthe gave him, pulled from the ashes cytherea burnt her down to. he only ever touched dulcie once, and it wasn't until after she was already gone, but that doesn't matter- it still happened, and you can't take loved away.

in this same roundabout, bittersweet, by-proxy sort of way, palamedes has been physically touched by nona, too: the atoms she currently occupies, touching atoms that he used to occupy, and never will again.

the main interaction we've seen between palamedes and his mother took place back on the sixth, with her acting as mentor and him as pupil: the two of them studying a set of hand bones, juno encouraging him every step of the way.

we know that harrowhark's "most vivid memory of her mother was of her hands guiding harrow's over an inexpertly rendered portion of skull, her fingers encircling the fat baby bracelets of harrow's wrists, tightening this cuff to indicate correct technique."

they're still small for a nineteen year old, but the wrists are bigger, in this new set of memories nona's making. and it's not an inexpertly rendered portion of skull anymore- it's a hand, now, albeit one crafted from [a piece of skull reassembled (painstakingly—passionately—laboriously reassembled) from fragments, manually, and not by a bone magician, from the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded.] and the identity and origin of these bones is no mystery at all. they belong to palamedes, and he's consented to their use for this purpose, and that matters.

but the details are just set dressing, really. the foundation of the memory is the same.

palamedes and his mother, juno and her son.

harrow and her mother; pelleamena and her daughter.

nona and her father-mother-teacher; palamedes and his daughter.

[theactualsunshinechild]

I think Aventio and Screwtio shippers shouldn't fight. After all, Ratio has two hands!

That's right. Two hands.

One for his chalk.

One for his codex.

Both of which he's holding in an embarrassed death grip as they chat away with each other about him.

[clockwise-works]

Honeymoon Tour: Palmorae Beach

[therentyoupay]

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

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

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

“Watch your head—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

And not subtle at all.)

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

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

The Memories were not so painful, here. 

//

And their stories! 

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

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

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

Frost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

//

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

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

//

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

Fear?

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

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

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

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

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

But as an equal.

//

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

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

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

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

“I—ah! ELSA—

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her. 

To Believe in them.

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

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

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

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

What was home?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will I also find my future here, too?

//

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

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

Elsa understood.

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

A trial. 

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

//

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

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s playing!

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

“What are y’all looking at?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blue.

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

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

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

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

Jack Frost… ?

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

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

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

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

At least, not yet… 

Or so I… 

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

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

His eyes narrowed slightly.

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

I could be a friend! 

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

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

“Uh, did Bunny make it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so the Trial begins…

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

He’d been waiting for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The idea was more painful than she expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

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

Fear. 

Doubt. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gaped at him. Honestly! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh—

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

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

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

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

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

ao3 ✨

[invinciblevalentine]

atp i would snort reeve tuesti fic like cocaine.

if anyone knows any fics that put reeve through the blender like “Son” by She_sees_in_the_dark or “Through Another’s Eyes” by CorsairOriginal—

i need to see that man under enough pressure to make a diamond crack. For my health.

[fatedroses]

Many things were used to describe the mad hermit of Amaurot: a drunkard, degenerate, cynical, and even monstrous by those who stirred trouble for the newly appointed Azem. But nothing could prepare Emet-Selch for what he would see for himself, when offered a chance to meet the Sun's Shadow.

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Trumpolitics and geopolitical implactions

Grrreeetings my dear students ! I AM RETURNED !!! With another lesson ! This time, some of you made the horrifying mistake of inciting my teaching urge on the geopolitics of trump drooling on Greenland, and I decided I would take a good long look at that AND at other targets of potential expansion for the USA. I am sorry to inform you that memes will be sadly not that present in the first two points, because they're where I put down the structure of this thing. First off, Context ! 1) The Context As you may have seen, Trump has recently been on a tweeting spree about territories he'd like to add to the USA or bring under control in some way. From calling Canada the 51st state to claiming that controlling Greenland was "an absolute necessity", and even making open threats to Panama about taking back control of the Canal of Panama.

And considering what is being looked at, I'm going to add Mexico to the mix, because it's been targeted with threats of invasion-and-or-intervention to deal with the Cartels. 2) The Goals The goals of all these outside operations can fit in a clean-enough categorization : - Security : this is about protecting US security against an external threat, whatever form it may take - Ressource availability : the access to the territory's ressources is important to Trump or his administration - Trade control : the territory offers the ability or potential to control global trade routes Those are the three big geopolitical aims of an expansionist policy in regards to the USA. Other countries, such as Russia for instance, could have demographic aims to counteract a demographic collapse, but that's not the case of the USA. Of course, there's also Trump's personnal goal, common among strongmen : looking like a badass warmaster that does war so good and is so successful, wow, such medal, much military.

3) Oh, CANADA ! Canada, land of snow and forests, maple syrup and poutine, land of the eh and dedicated contributor to the expansion of the Geneva Convention. Trump has been pretty insistent on "joking" about it becoming the 51st State, despite a great many Canadians signaling very loudly that they do not find it funny. On one hand, making insulting jokes about your allies and ignoring their protests and then wondering why you aren't popular is violently American (As a French, I have close to 18 years of personnal experience on that), but on the other, this is Trump, so is it really a joke ? So, what would be the benefits of invading Canada ? Well, they would be many from a geopolitical point of view. It"s just that there are as many, or more, inconvenients. The big question being, will Trump even LOOK at those inconvenients ? But that's for later. First off, resources. Canada is ridiculously resource rich, owing in part to its very large size. I'm sure you've seen a few memes about Americans finding the biggest deposit of X or Y resources at random, well the only reason Canada doesn't do that too is because it is far less populated and its population is far more centralized. But the potential is there, absolutely. And even better, those resources are VERY varied : minerals, hydrocarbons, and absolute fuckton of wood and, perhaps less often thought about, fresh water. So on that front, Canada would undeniably be a very attractive catch. Second, security. Canada would allow the USA control of roughly a third-to-half of the entire Arctic region, allowing extensive protection of the northern flank, something that may be of interest in current times due to how light and under-strength the Canadian armed forces are, which also serves to make it a (seemingly) easy target to occupy. Third, trade control. Oh that's right, Canada has the trifecta. See, with the Arctic melting, the near-mythical North-West passage is opening, allowing for way faster transit from the Bering straight to the Atlantic, and yes this is damn important, the Panama Canal was opened in part because that passage didn't exist, but now it does for longer and longer periods of time, and Canada controls roughly 80 to 90% of its length. And control of that trade route means cash from ships that take it (taxes, maintenance, rescue when need be ...), it's a whole thing. A minor interest, though not put forward by Trump would be the "natural borders" approach, or territory continuity. Basically, considering that Canada is, by its geographical situation, American territory-to-be. That's ... pretty disturbing, and like I said, Trump didn't put it forward, but keep in mind it's part of the debate.

Now, for the inconvenients, which uh ... well they aren't few. First off, Canadians. The "eh" dudes are often represented as passive and friendly and polite, but they are certainly not interested in becoming Americans, especially by force, and considering just how many guns they have, well they have the means to make that displeasure known quite virulently. Which creates an entire administrative mess where they have to decide if they confiscate weapons inside Canada, or only those of Canadians, and what happens in the rest of the US, and what if ... so complicated. Messy. Either way, while the invasion wouldn't necessarily be that difficult (due to smol, US-dependant Canadian forces), the occupation would be WAAAAAAY harder. Especially since Canada is rather big and empty, giving PLENTY of room for partisan groups to spread, hide and ambush anyone that leaves urban centres. Second, Nato. Now, do I think Nato would mount a task force to push US troops out of Canada ? Lmao no, we're way too dependant on US security infrastructure for that. And since so many people still seem to think that, when France tries to push European strategic independance it's actually a French bid for control of the EU or us trying to shill our industries, well I don't see it changing without some major shock, even as things are. Poland does seem to be speedrunning this bitch though, so maybe we can do something there. But no, Nato wouldn't stop the invasion, but the invasion WOULD collapse Nato, and I can already hear the Vatniks and Tankies getting a stiffie just from imagining it.

Nato wouldn't survive because, in this scenario, the most powerful member of the alliance attacks another member. At that point, there's no confidence left, no trust, nothing. And that has ... rather big ... consequences. For instance, Russia feeling entirely uninhibited and allowed to invade as they please. To avoid that, the only option is to have a truly gigantic "fuck off" button, and only one such button exists : the nuclear one. So that's nuclear proliferation going back onto the table and at least half of the eastern part of the EU reaching for nuclear programs. Poland at the very least, Finland most likely can too. And then there's the rest of the World. Unless the French president at the time points out that our nuclear umbrella does actually extend over our eastern allies (it does) and actually manages to convince both Russia and our allies that it's true, and that's where I am profoundly unsure, considering how successful the US has been at propagandizing against France and presenting us as cowardly or unreliable. Remember when I said I had personnal experience with insulting jokes from the US ? At this point, I'm half convinced that the only way to convince Poland and co that we're reliable would be to help them develop nukes or just give them some, which ... same result anyway. So yeah, bad shit right there.

4) The land of LIES Greenland, or Groenland, an autonomous dependency of Denmark. A big place with not that much population. But, here again, geopolitical benefits can be found in taking it over : First off, resources. Though its resources aren't as varied as Canada's, Greenland is still very much a resource-rich place, and global warming makes more and more of those resources accessible, making it a very attractive target indeed. Security is the main reason put forth by Trump, and uh ... well it reveals a LOT in my opinion. See, the main security interest of Greenland is the ability to project control over one of the two main exits of the Arctic sea. With Greenland, Norway and Iceland, an arc is formed allowing control of that exit, as much as such a large span of sea can be controlled. The reason I say it's worrying is because there's already a US airbase there, Pituffik airbase, and Greenland is part of Nato. There's already an entire system in place to counter if the enemy is Russia. So the "absolute necessity" of controlling Greenland would indicate he has another enemy in mind. See why I'm worried ?

Now, would it be difficult to control Greenland ? No, not THAT much, it only has 57 000 people, so occupation wouldn't be too hard, hell, it would even be colonizable fairly easily. You know, the Russian model, displace parts of the local population to send them into the territory of the ethnic majority so as to isolate them, all while bussing in masses of ethnic-majority colonists to fill new jobs created by the occupation. Speaking of, Trump claimed Greenlanders wanted the US there, which contradicts local testimonies and declarations. Hmm, a strongman leader claiming a foreign territory for "security reasons" and saying the locals want his troops there, where have I seen that rethoric before .... Of course, here, we also see the collapse of Nato, with similar, or identical, consequences. It's possible, but rather unlikely in my opinion, that the Danish government could sell Greenland to maintain the illusion of still having Nato, but like I said, I don't buy it. Once again, Nato would have no real way of stopping it, since the US are the big fish in this pond.

And now that we've seen the two scenarios where Nato collapses, what would that mean for the US ? A whole lot of bad, actually. Because, see, if the USA feel free to invade Nato allies, then their military bases become liabilities, pre-established beach-heads from which they can prepare and launch offensives. So that would mean most, if not all, US bases in Europe getting closed damn near overnight, an d a rather difficult to manage diplomatic mess. That could also spook non-Nato countries into kicking out US forces, reducing the power projection capabilities of the US tremendously. Once allied ports would close to their ships, like the many, many, many French and British naval bases spread all around the globe that the US navy can use to resupply, refuel and rest. Airbases would close, forcing longer, more logistically difficult flights ... There's also the breakdown in training agreements, like the agreement that allows US special forces to train in the jungles of Guyane. Bet you didn't know about that. And then there's the military supplies in terms of equipment that becomes uncertain, because yes, the US military doesn't buy exclusively American, for instance they love Thales radars, which are French. And yes, they also buy from other European countries, it's just that since I'm French, I mostly think of French exemples. Fellow Europeans, add in the notes what you country produces that ends up on the US military shopping list ! So yes, while the collapse of Nato would leave Europe damn near butt naked in the face of Russian aggression, with no other option than to go balls to the walls, it would also hamper the US rather severely.

5) Panama, the Canal The Canal of Panama was made by the US, completed in 1914, and apparently Mister Trump wants it back because, le gasp, China allegedly has too much influence on it and, le gasp², US ships pay fees like everyone else. The Canal is, all things considered, the most straightforward option. It has one benefit only : trade control. But considering the location, that benefit is sizeable and long lasting. See, the Panama Canal is a reliable and rather safe option when compared to the intermitent and iceberg-filled Northwest Passage and the shit-weather festival that is the Cape Horn (which can also have icebergs, yay), so it's basically a guarantee for LOADS of maritime trafic. Control of that canal would allow to levy fees and, potentially, block passage to the ships of rival polities, like, say, China. Except China already has routes to feed its products to Europe and Africa that don't go through Panama, and for the eastern part of South America, I can absolutely see them throw a giant wad of cash at yet another pharaonic railway project. Not immediate, but not impossible either. And if it goes into the realm of dick-measuring contests (it will, Trump is involved), Xi absolutely will, on principle.

That doesn't mean control of the Canal isn't interesting, it absolutely is, but it's not AS interesting as he perhaps thinks.

And then there's the issue of Panama not being particularly enthused by the idea, weirdly enough. Would Panama's regular military be able to stop Trump ? Haha, no. I don't have any illusions on that, you don't, and I guarantee that Panama doesn't either. What they CAN do, however, is make it unsufferable to use. Cause collapses, force ships out of alignment to Evergreen it up in this bitch, guerilla-warfare patrols into an early grave, loads of stuff. And they would have volunteers from a lot of Latin America, due to flashbacks of US-backed dictatorships giving motivation to a lot of people.

In short, it would be a forever war for control of a string of water that would quickly end up costing a LOT more, in cash and lives, than it brings. 0/10, do not recommend, would not imperialism.

6) Mexico, Cartel time Ah, the Cartels, Mexico(s number 1 problem, and a big talking point for US conservatives. They have floated the idea of sending the military to deal with them several times, and it was even suggested recently to classify them as terrorists to justify the military intervention.

Here, again ,there's a single interest : security. The idea being that, if you off the drug dealers, then drugs won't be a problem anymore. Surely this simple and obvious reasoning has no flaw to it, right ? Well … First off, Cartels aren't easy to manage, due to how spread out they are. Then there's the fact they are rather heavily armed, which is part of why Mexico hasn't been able to deal with them. Cartel armories include some heavy weapons, and I can GUARANTEE that they've expanded those armories in preparation of a potential US army intervention, and that WILL include US weapons. So if that happen, prepare for the humiliation of losing Abrams tanks to gangers. Moreover, the afforementionned US-based trauma would also awaken here, ensuring that, despite how unpopular they are, the Cartels WOULD receive volunteers to reinforce them, simply on the basis that they'd be fighting an expansionist US.

Now add in that they have people inside the US, not just direct network members, but also affiliates and customers. Those groups are also violent and armed, and can be agitated fairly easily. If the US launch a military attack on the Cartels, I expect those affiliate gangs would mount assault on police precincts at the very least, and based on the performance of US cops at Uvalde and other cases, where they cowered when faced with a SINGLE assault rifle, I wonder how they'd react when faced by many, and potentially outnumbered. Would they all break and run ? No, most likely not. But enough would, since that would most likely happen all over the country. This would create a feeling of insecurity and danger that would be devastating for Trump. It would make him look weak.

So all in all, far from ideal.

7) The Rest of the Consequences

Yeah, I didn't look too much into the global effects … yet. Basically, Expansionist US = massive uncertainty, meaning economic confidence collapses, meaning stock prices go down in many places, economic paranoia blooms, worry takes hold of the planet and, oh would you look at that, a financial crisis. Is it a guarantee ? No, but depending on the scenario it's more or less likely. For instance, if it's the Greenland track, it's unlikely to cause a financial crisis, at least not immediately, it will have to wait until Nato openly and officially collapses (AKA the moment maintaining the charade isn't worthwhile anymore). The other three options though ? Yes. Canada is a major economic player, if it's invaded, economic actors will be scared. An invasion of Mexico is such a gigantic upheaval that it will cause shakeups in the worldwide economic network. And the Panama Canal being seized by a military intervention is basically like collapsing a cliff face into a fjord, the effect will be rapid, devastating and spectacular.

Then there's the loss of soft-power. In the first two scenario, the US immediately lose all credibility as an ally, anyone on their list of ally is informed that they'll be invaded the second it becomes beneficial, AKA an alliance with the US is utterly worthless, or even dangerous, unless you force yourself into a position where invading you is a waste (AKA poverty), and even then, your resources might spark an invasion anyway. In the last two, it erases all efforts made to improve and moralize the US foreign policy, and it severely weakens the diplomatic position of the US. Trump can negociate whatever he wants after that, it won't change the fact that trust in the US will drop severely, and yes that will include European countries.

8) conclusion Now, am I sure that Trump will invade someone ? Yes, but that's a personnal bias. There are no certainty until it's a done deal. It's possible that this is just Trump trying to be relevant, or like one of the linked articles said, trying to create chaos. But I'm not convinced. Trump feels empowered, allowed to do anything he wants. He won't feel like he has to hold back. So he may decide to actually invade a country. Do we have certainty on the consequences of such an invasion ? No, because here I looked only at the invasions and their geopolitical consequences if nothing else changes. The world is a constantly churning mass of variables that interact in exotic and sometimes very roundabout ways. But I think my analysis is solid and credible, and it would take a hell of a change for what I described her to not happen. I guess we'll have to see what Trump decides to do.

[instantpansies]

NEXT CHAPTER BAYBEE!!

enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus continues in the next exciting installment!! (i did the thing and made the pov shift as awkward and discordant as possible!! wahoo!)

(i added a bunch of iconic post references too! try to spot them all!)

@hellsite-hall-of-fame @hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend @hellsite-hungergames

[banefort]

Already seen a lot of people use the Cain and Abel archetype to describe Aegon and Aemond’s fratricidal relationship, when more importantly I’d argue that they represent an inversion of the trope.

Traditionally, the tale represents settled lifestyles (Cain the farmer) overcoming nomadic Neolithic customs (Abel the shepherd) through the allegory of fraternal murder- aka, the Cainist cultural revolution defeating Abel’s tradition. Given Aemond is the one who, possessed by jealousy over his brother and a desire for control, turns to fratricide, one would expect him to be characterized as the homicidal Cain-figure, and Aegon as the unsuspecting Abel-figure. However, due to Aemond’s continual fulfillment of tradition and the status quo, and reliance upon Valyrian tradition as the basis for his claim, ideologically-speaking he’s a closer match to Abel. Not to mention, given he also flaunts the qualities which his father continually attempted to emulate (dragon-rider, scholar, fluent Valyrian speaker, pious, etc) - he closer matches the image of the father’s ‘prized son’, we can argue that the Viserys-Aemond bond closer matches the God-Abel dynamic.

Conversely, Aegon is constantly affirmed to be a break from ruling tradition - from a psychological standpoint he departs from the archetypal image of the ruler by being shown to be melancholic and tempestuous, not to mention alienated from his paternal culture and language; whilst from an ideological standpoint, he openly argues against the practice of Valyrian sibling incest and advocates for an embrace of monarchial socialism, departing from the wishes of his advisors, and the traditional customs of the kingdom. Thus, Aegon embodies a cultural revolution, and aligns better with Cain.

The Cain-Abel reading of Aegon and Aemond’s actions doesn’t work out because their fratricidal actions align Aemond with Cain as an antagonist, and Aegon with Abel as a victim - but their ideologies match Aemond with Abel as traditionalists, and Aegon with Cain as revolutionaries. One can make the argument that the analogy still works, due to it being a deliberate inversion of the tale, with tradition striking down any act of upheaval, as opposed to revolution destroying tradition, but I feel that there isn’t enough evidence to support that decision. Naturally, creatives always reflect on Cain and Abel to some extent due to its prevalence as a touchstone of fratricide in the arts, but due to caveats like the action-ideology dissonance and the lack of a father figure endorsing Aemond (or either of them for that matter), amongst others, I think it’s a tenuous stance on its own.

[stinkrascal]

it’s so hard being a datv lover on the internet right now, i can’t make any comments about how much im enjoying the game without some weirdo on reddit being like “yeah but dont you find the dialogue so cringe? doesnt it feel so disney+ to you?” and when i ask what they mean without fail they’re like “well have you seen taash talk about their gender” 😐

[itshype]

Something I really love in fics is really wild soulmate indicators:

Each person has one terrible joke that only their soulmate will think is funny.

Your soulmate's hardest won skill is your natural talent.

You taste whatever your soulmate eats.

Scar and/or pain sharing.

Soulmate minis (tiny cute representative of your soulmate that only you can see and interact with).

When you touch blood, you get to see their entire life until that point as an invisible ghost offering only comfort.

Share a dreamscape with your soulmate.

[novelconcepts]

Staunch hater of men but travis is just my skrunkly little guy. Love how sad he is. Love how tragic he is. He’s just one of the girls and he loves it.

Travis is so good, largely because, if this show had been made in the 90s, he WOULD have been a girl. He and Javi both would have been the lone girls in a sea of boy soccer players. Travis is the love interest; Javi would have been the archetypical annoying little sister. And because YJ likes to play with gender dynamics and flip the scripts, they both still play out as you’d expect the Sole Girls in a male-dominated story to do. Travis’ whole arc is about learning to navigate outside of what society tells him to be—and, other than that, he’s there to be Nat’s love interest. Even as an adult, in Natalie’s memory sequences, he gets the Dead Wife lighting and soft framing in bed. He even gets, as a friend pointed out, fridged to further her story. When the girls get progressively more violent, Travis is the victim, or he’s told to take Javi out of the room. He starts off as a shitty boy, as is befitting of 1996 culture, and he gets to unlearn that which does not serve the hive. He is tragic. He is doomed from the start. He is learning to be soft in a situation where softness gets you killed. He is the representative of sibling dynamics in the wild, and now he’s the answer to the question: are you still a big brother when your younger brother is gone? He’s fucking devastating.

I just really love that the only three men in the wilderness are the gay coach, the complicated love interest, and the sacrificial lamb. Those are all positions usually reserved for women, and I love YJ for flipping it around.