#fandom: frozen

[grianfinity]

Brunistelic - A constelic term for those who stel Bruni the fire spirit from Frozen 2

Tagging: @constel-guy

[lets-become-stories]

Sacanime Summer 2018 / lets-become-stories as Anna / photo by sweetalissumcosplay

[therentyoupayfanfiction]

homesick • 1 [“reverse”]

from the homesick series.

homesick • 1 [ “reverse” ] — [ ao3 ] [ tumblr ]

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She wants to ask, Do you ever get hit with a wave of nostalgia—so quickly, so deeply that it takes your breath away? It’s a silly, stupid question. Elsa already knows the answer, anyway, and to ignore it would be to ignore her role in Anna’s worst memories. At best, it would be horrendously insensitive, and at worst…

“You must really miss it,” Anna smiles warmly, affection affection affection pouring out from every shine and sparkle form her rose-tinted lipgloss, of her freckle-framed eyes.

Of course she misses it. Of course she doesn’t.

“I do,” Elsa acknowledges. “But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t the right time to leave.”

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The world has changed, and yet it has not. People have continued to live, to endure, to go about their daily lives with their habits and tics and lifestyles. Things are as she remembers, and they are nothing like she remembers, and sometimes she feels like there is nothing familiar at all.

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And still, people ask her, “How does it feel to be home?”

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It doesn’t take much to bring her back, these days. Case in point: just now, upon hearing the first few bars of a song that she listened to all throughout last summer, heard for the first time in a café while she was enjoying an early morning (decaf, always decaf) latte respite from the adventure of exploring a crowded shopping center, just to watch how the people live and walk and communicate. To connect with her environment. To be a part of it. The song isn’t remarkable in and of itself, but the bars are so distinct, and the feeling they are linked to are so deeply entrenched in her bones that it catches her off-guard. Enough to make her fingers fumble for the handle of her current cup of herbal tea, enough to make the ceramic rattle against its plate; Elsa’s earth, quaking gently, with no one else to notice, all because of a little song.

Elsa gingerly takes a sip from her tea. She remembers the latte, the foam nearly gone. It was expertly-crafted, and the flavor had been divine, but now she can’t help but taste the burnt crisp of something on her tongue.

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“Do you want to visit?” Anna asks.

Elsa is shocked. Am I so obvious?

“I just got back,” she answers, perplexed in spite of herself.

“We have the money,” Anna offers, bright and toothy, despite what years she has. “We could go—or, you know, you could? If you wanted to go alone… I mean, if you wanted the chance to visit—“

“It’s not the money,” Elsa smiles, gentle gentle gentle from every curve of the reassurance that she is trying to paint, within the very tilt of her jaw, within every flicker of light that she summons to her gaze. “It just not the right time.”

“It’s too soon?”

Unbidden, a lump rises in her throat. Elsa is no stranger to the vices that can grip a person’s breath—she is so acutely aware of the shape of her own throat, of the way air passes through it, the way the world travels through her lungs—but this thickness in her throat is not the panic that she knows, it’s not a battle she’s used to. The air is there—struggling, yes, but enduring more; it isn’t trapped—and she has no idea what to do with it, what to do with this thing, this feeling that’s lodged itself inside her, the one that she can’t choke out.

“Elsa?”

“There is still so much else for me to see,” she answers, filling her sister’s gaze up with love love love, urging it forward with understanding, with please don’t ask me anymore. “I’ll go back, eventually. I’m here now.”

She’s here, and that’s what matters.

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It’s difficult, learning how to answer people’s questions.

“How was it?” “What was it like?” “Were you homesick?” “What did your family think of your year away?” And always, “Do you miss it?”

Elsa has never been very good at answering such genuine questions in the first place. There is a series of scripts that she follows, the sort of antiquated, polite smalltalk that is perfectly appropriate for strangers—or co-workers, or friends, or family, or—

She never tells a lie, but she so rarely tells the truth.

“Wasn’t it hard?”

Elsa pauses.

Eventually, she finds her smile, stretches it on delicately, makes sure it meets her eyes. She says, “Everything gets easier with time.”

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It will be a while before Anna asks her again, before she tries again. Elsa is sure of it, and it makes her both relieved and… disappointed.

Because It could never be too soon to go back, it may always be too late, but still—still, it wouldn’t make sense, it wouldn’t be fair, she couldn’t leave again, not so soon, not when she has only just—

It is not the right time.

 ⇢      ⇢      ⇢

[delusionland]

OPEN STARTER: ANNA OF ARENDELLE, MODERN VERSE

“When I am not constantly texting someone or getting notifications---I start getting weirdly like... anxious?” Anna squints. “Is that normal?”

[delusionland]

" everything's falling apart. " for hans

"Au contraire," Hans begins. "The Eternal winter you caused may not have ended. But you still saved your sister. That has to mean something to you, right? And our incoming marriage will usher in a new age---together, we can solve any problem that comes our way."

"Tragedy brings people together, you know." It has certainly brought followers to the King-to-be's doorstep. People look at Elsa with fear, with hatred. They look at him with the respect he has always wanted to deserve. That he feels he does---as the hero that saved their beloved Princess Anna---and tamed the witch who cursed her.

But his vineer of kindness and nobility and bravery---it's thinner than a blanket of morning frost on the cusp of spring. He knows Elsa sees right through him. And even some part of himself, cockled in his own errant tragedy knows---if he freed Elsa from their engagement... She could fix this, like she fixed Anna. True self-love... that has to be as powerful as the love of family, though Hans by no account knows either beyond his and his family's own inflated narcissm. (Is it jealousy that makes him trap her in a loveless marriage? Or is it a sense of possession---over the only woman... no... person... who he's ever even thought could dare to love him?)

He does know that Elsa doesn't deserve to be made subservient---to be made the villain of her own story. But he doesn't want to be the one in the wrong when it feels so right to be the hero.

He runs a handerkerchief over Elsa's cheek, wipes up a runaway tear before it manages to freeze in the gripping cold that has entered their world and refuses to leave. "Careful, darling. Remember. You're my Queen. Look the part."

[delusionland]

" how dare you! " for Hans

“How can I not?” Hans laughs.There is something in him that has been driven mad. Not just by today, but from something that happened long before Elsa’s imprisonment, before Elsa hurt her in a panic that Hans honestly understands (who does not understand fear of their siblings more than Hans?!), before any of this.

“Everything just happens. One thing after another. There’s no stopping cruelty---or fate! Just like there was no way anyone would ever try to be kind to me---there’s not stopping me from what I’m being forced to do.” There is no choice here. Maybe there was, at first. Choices, choices, fragile little sands in an hourglass. When time runs out---you’re left with far less room for anything except the weight to fall.

“Oh, so sad! Anna is gonna die because she has no true love because you lodged ice in her heart!”

“I didn’t put the ice there. I didn’t ask for this responsibility---I just wanted to marry you!” The vulnerability in that finally rings through and rings true. He had demeaned himself and his own desires---demeaned their friendship, his true love for Elsa, all their letters shared between them, the fact that she was the only person in all of this world who understood him well enough to do something as simple and soft as use his true name.

He crumples forward, hair shaking of place.

“What am I supposed to do, Elsa?” His voice is still strong, and deep, still every bit the way he has trained it to be by force. But it vibrates, it twangs, he runs icy gloves through his sweaty scalp, swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth from feeling so angry spit and bile riles.

“March her around the castle?” Quieter now. This is a possibility, even to him. “Make her start kissing every man in Arendelle because it’s the right thing to do?” It seems silly, but his voice gets so much softer with the need, the need to be the hero, to do the right thing. “Her true love could be in Macedonia for all we know! And the people don’t exactly trust ANY of us right now---they’re the throne room piling up furniture to burn for warmth because of your eternal winter! They’re not exactly in a KISSING MOOD.”

“I didn’t do this to her, Elsa! You did!” He whips his hand forward, as if commanding a symphony, silencing it. And then hangs his head, shameful, tired.

“I’m just... doing the next best right thing.”

[delusionland]

Does Hans regret what he's done? Or does he still have the desire to find a place where he will rule? Is there redemption for him or is he going to just rot in jail? Or was he even charged / found guilty at all once he got home?

hans regrets certain parts of his actions. but honestly, i try to see a lot of the movie from HIS perspective.

it’s not WRONG for hans to want to marry a woman for political purposes. that’s what princesses are literally for in real life. they don’t actually exist for any other purpose than cementing alliances.

when elsa starts an eternal winter---that’s BAD. and hans thinks he can end it by killing her. do you think hans WANTS to kill elsa? no! he doesn’t want to kill anybody! he doesn’t have his brother’s ruthless nature, he couldn’t even take anna in a fistfight.

ELSA is the one to strike anna’s heart, not hans. then it is revealed that the only way to heal anna is through true love’s kiss.

but he’s not... straight? and he also doesn’t know who the hell anna’s true love is.

what is he supposed to do? get every man in the kingdom to kiss anna? what is that ACTUALLY going to accomplish. he doesn’t know elsa is anna’s true love. nobody knows that! not even anna!

it’s honestly no wonder that hans kind of laughs in a cruel kind of way during it. what kind of twist of fate is this? it’s like everything in this story is deliberately set up for him to make reactionary decision after reactionary decision that will all lead to him being as evil as possible in the end he’s just like. well fuck! guess i’m evil now! lol

i honestly see hans getting humiliating community service in his homeland. they can’t believe he’s done this of his own free will, made himself look like an idiot without any plausible reason to besides ‘ruling’ and ‘proving himself.’ he becomes kind of a joke in the isles, and he was already a pretty big joke. however, he is finally permitted to leave the castle, strike it out on his own in a hut somewhere surrounded by nature he’s supposed to take care of. he can be truly himself, all alone, and he can finally control something in his life & a part of the islands.

also nice about this, is that when people make fun of him now, they call him ‘prince hans of the southern isles.’ as a trans person with a terrible family, his whole life he’s been fighting to be properly named and gendered. and he no longer has to marry his bethrothed.

he kind of gets exactly what he wants out of this.

[delusionland]

@liishang hans & shang : AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

Hans arrives on campus at 2:47 am---enough time to give himself time to wait for the doors to the gates to automatically unlock for the new semester. (There are other ways into the school, of course, a parking garage right nearby for staff---but Hans? With his Porsche? There’s only one way in, and he sips his Starbucks-brand canned caramel frappacino--that frankly tastes like ass---as he waits outside.

As a second semester student---Hans already has everything planned. He knows the exact layout of the dormitory, where exactly his room is---and he moves the boxes through the halls quickly & efficently, humming a sailor’s tune---no one there to bother him but the Vermont chill & the oppressive quiet & the knowledge that maybe---maybe he should’ve waited to arrive until later in the afternoon, like everyone else did.

He sets up the white-chrome with blue accents PC and the similarly pale desk he made himself---several inspirational photos---not the kind with sayings, but the kind of icelandic hot tubs, and centuries old mansions he printed off of google when he was eight and framed and hung up in his bedroom and has kept ever since----his extensive & color-coordinated blue-white-a hint of pink bedspread of at least three layers of sheets, blankets, and comforters (each, you never know what has been done with mattresses, and there is no such thing as too much protection from the elements) and more decorative pillows than can possibly be humanly sane.

He spritzes the room with his signature scent---perfectly tailored for relaxation and mindfulness. He’s poured over all his files & books & clothes neatly away in his own dividers beneath the bed, or on the desk, leaving the provided drawers in the middle of the room empty---and then, after he switches out of his driving gear into his silk blue pajama set, he spends the allotted time he’s given himself from four am to seven am sleeping doing just that, before he’s meant to shower, change, map out the walk to his courses, and then arrive back to meet his roommate just in time for breakfast.

But what do they say about the best-laid plans...

Hans ends up waking up... a good deal later than he planned. The door very much locked, it’s the knock on the door that wakes him, and then, to his horror---the drool spooling out of his mouth and on to his satin pillow. "Just a minute, please---” He calls in an immediate panic, his voice cracking with morning dius, his hair a horrid mess as he takes off his nightshirt & folds it---just to to put on his binder and put it back on as fast as he possibly can while maintaining the neatness the garment deserves. Quickly buttoning up and flattening his pillow-mussed hair---and to his eternal disappointment in himself when he finds the task finished---with every single one of the buttons ONE button off from its paired mate---he opens the door in a hurry, feigning a good deal more patience than he actually has.

“My eternal apologies.” Why do I even have a roommate? He wants to yell at someone, but he smiles, chipper, all white teeth and charm despite what he believes is a sorry showing. His Father owns Southern Isles Brand Bottled Water! This is RIDICULOUS. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he says, quickly stepping out of the doorway. “Please come in. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Great. Great first meeting, genius! Also, how fucking late is it already? Hans is in a Hell of his own making!