Always So Much Thought Put Into Those Little Details! I Love The Foam And Light On The Sea.

Welcome to the Kristoff Fan Club @simpofhans! We have tshirts! We love Kristoff!

Sven: And carrots!

Olaf: Ooh, and snowmen!

Kristoff: I feel like an idiooooot!

In response to this Kristoff appreciation post. So sorry! 🤦‍♀️ I couldn’t help myself… Happy simping!

Frozen (c) Disney — fanart by @sunflowers-and-sandwiches. Please do not repost or use my art without permission.

Over a year in writing and at last this story sets sail! Pirate!Hans is sure to be a treasure. Make sure you check out the art too 🏴‍☠️

The Pirate of the Southern Isles - chapters 1 & 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64319587/chapters/165109510

English

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64320010/chapters/165110677

Polish

So, the big day today! AVAST!

Updates every Tuesday (it is already Tuesday here) and Friday!

Best motto ever.

Frozen x Beauty & the Beast Yuletide

I know, I know, it's only August! But we're trying to plan ahead for this year's Yuletide event. But first, we wanted to see if anyone is interested so creators will have enough time to work on their gifts.

Awesome! If you have any questions, please feel free to send and ask or DM to me or co-mod @paigebstorey.

More great sports romance from @glassslippers-n-cowboyboots !!

Chapter: 15/??

Fandom: Frozen (Disney Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff

Characters: Anna, Kristoff, Elsa, Ryder, Gaston, Belle,

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hockey AU, College AU, Ice Skating, Masturbation, Grinding

Summary:

Ice dancer Anna Andersen meets hockey goalie Kristoff Bjorgman at Arendelle University and there's an instant attraction.

Chapter 15

It’s by @annaofthenorthernlights so you know its awesome ❤️🎅

The kristanna fanart in the middle of the cover moodboard was kindly provided by the wonderful @upthenorthmountain!

This is my contribution for Yuletide fic exchange 2024 on the "Frozen Hearts worth melting for" Discord server. For @99goosebumps

Rated: Explicit Words: 5227

~~~

Dec 23rd, early afternoon...

"It's so nice of you to take the children overnight."

Anna beamed at her sister as she packed a few games and things for them so that Elsa would have no trouble keeping them entertained. The older sister pursed her lips and leaned over the kitchen counter, playing one-handed with the ice skater figurine that adorned the etagere.

"I'm not that curious, you know that. But may I ask why Kristoff wants the house to yourselves tonight?"

Her voice suggested innocent questioning, but her sparkling eyes betrayed Ela's cluelessness. Anna squirmed and shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

"Oh, well... he just wanted us to have a romantic dinner at home. Just the two of us, before Christmas Eve. It's sort of his gift to me this year.

Read on AO3

I’m on such a tangent to all the other things I should be doing right now but the temptation was too great… a glimpse into alternative Hans’ origin story that could thaw a frozen heart ❄️🩵

The palace was a vast and magnificent place, with its endless corridors and towering windows that allowed the sunlight to pour in almost cruelly, as if mocking those trapped within its walls. To Hans, such magnificence was nothing more than a prison disguised as splendor. He had spent the entire morning wandering aimlessly, hoping to find some form of entertainment, but everyone seemed occupied with matters of great importance, in which he, of course, had no place.

Aldric was buried in his studies and had made it clear that he did not wish to be disturbed. His mother was engaged in some social gathering, and his father… well, his father was never available. And so, in his desperation, Hans found himself wandering into the library, where Thomas and Frederick, two of his older brothers, sat by the fireplace, laughing together as if the rest of the world did not exist. He smiled upon seeing them. Perhaps they would want to play with him."Thomas! Frederick!" he called enthusiastically.

"Why don’t we go riding? It’s a magnificent day."

The two brothers exchanged a glance before returning to their conversation without even acknowledging him.

Hans frowned.

"We could also go to the river and throw stones. Or we could race to the stables. What do you say?"

Silence.

Frederick tilted his head with feigned curiosity.

"Thomas, did you hear that?" The young boy cupped a hand around his ear and adopted a thoughtful expression.

"Hmm… no, I didn’t hear anything. Did you?"

"I didn’t hear that either. How strange."

Both of them smirked before continuing their conversation, completely ignoring Hans.

The boy felt frustration rise to his face, making his cheeks burn.

"Stop doing that! I’m here!"

"Did you hear that, Frederick?"

"No, brother, I didn’t hear anything. Maybe it’s the wind."

Hans clenched his fists.

"If you don’t stop ignoring me, I’ll tell Mother that Frederick kisses one of her ladies-in-waiting in the gardens at sunset."

That, at least, got their attention. Thomas and Frederick went silent for a brief moment, looking at him with a flash of irritation in their eyes. But instead of backing down, Frederick leaned back in his chair with a careless smile.

"How funny. Looks like the wind has become particularly gossipy."

"And very loud," added Thomas, pretending to yawn. "What do you think, brother?"

"I think someone is practically begging for all their toys to be thrown into the bottom of the well."

Hans felt a knot of rage tighten in his stomach. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing his anger, so he abruptly turned and left the room without a word.

His heart pounded as he walked briskly down the hall, trying to calm the fury that simmered in his chest. His brothers always treated him like this. Like he was an annoying insect, an insignificant presence barely deserving of attention. But he wasn’t insignificant. He wasn’t.

If someone noticed him, if someone gave him just a little bit of their time, he could prove it.

It was then, as he turned a corner, that he saw his father.

The king looked imposing, with his regal bearing and the deep dark blue cloak that fell gracefully over the floor. Beside him, Richard, his older brother, seemed engrossed in conversation with their father. But Hans barely noticed his brother. His attention was fixed on the king.

"Father!" he called eagerly, quickening his pace to catch up with him.

The king turned his face, and for a brief moment, Hans’ expression lit up as he saw a smile form on his lips.

"Hans, my little prince!"

The little one jumped towards him with complete confidence, and the king received him with open arms, lifting him with ease.

"Look at you, getting bigger every day," he said with a hint of pride, squeezing him tightly against his chest. "How’s my little man today?"

Hans grinned from ear to ear. He loved it when his father called him that. It made him feel important, as if he truly meant something to him.

"I’m fine, father," he replied eagerly. "But I was so bored. Can we do something together today? Can we go riding?"

The king chuckled softly, still holding him.

"We went riding last week, didn’t we?"

"Yes, but that was so long ago, I haven’t seen you since then…" Hans complained, hugging him even tighter.

The king shook his head in amusement and gently lowered him to the ground.

"You’re tireless."

Hans felt warmth in his chest. Maybe this time, yes. Maybe his father would spend the day with him.

"In fact, I could go with you to the council meeting," he suggested excitedly. "I want to learn how you rule the kingdom."

But no sooner had he finished speaking than Richard burst into laughter.

"You? In the council? Don’t make me laugh. What could you possibly understand about politics?"

“I could learn,” he replied stubbornly.

The king sighed, though he still maintained his patience.

“Hans, son, today will be a very busy day,” he said in a tone of understanding. “Your brother and I have important matters to attend to.”

Hans furrowed his brow.

“But I want to learn too.”

“And what will you do when you get bored?” Richard joked, crossing his arms. “Will you ask for paper and colors to draw while we talk about trade treaties?”

Hans clenched his fists.

“I won’t get bored.”

The king placed a hand on his shoulder, letting out a longer sigh this time.

“Hans, we’ll talk about these things when you’re older. Today is not the time.”

“But I want to be with you, father,” Hans insisted, his voice dropping into a tone of pleading.

The king’s face lost some of its earlier warmth. His patience, though still not entirely exhausted, was starting to fade.

“Hans, don’t insist,” he said, this time with a more severe edge.

“Oh, come on, father,” Richard interjected with feigned sympathy. “Let him come. Surely his contributions will be essential.”

Hans glared at him, hoping his father would stop him. But the king simply rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Enough, Richard,” he muttered, then turned to Hans. “Son, please, we will spend time together another day.”

Hans felt desperation swirling in his chest.

“But…”

The king raised his hand, cutting off his protest with a firm gesture.

“Enough.”

He snapped his fingers at a servant who had been waiting nearby and, with the tone of someone giving an order with no room for discussion, said:

“You. Take the prince elsewhere. I can’t deal with this now.”

Hans felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under him.

The servant, with an expression of visible discomfort, approached with a bow.

“Your Highness… if I may…”

But Hans didn’t respond.

He looked at his father, who didn’t even notice him anymore. He looked at Richard, whose satisfied smile made him boil with rage. He looked at the servant, who was avoiding his gaze.

And finally, without saying a word, he turned on his heel and left.

The sound of the conversation between his father and brother continued behind him, as if he had never been there in the first place.

◆◇◆

Later that day, the bedroom of the younger princes of the Southern Isles, which during the day was spacious and filled with light, took on a mysterious atmosphere as night fell. The only illumination came from the flickering glow of the oil lamps. In the center of the room, two identical beds, separated by an elegant dark wooden table, occupied the space. However, at that moment, neither was being used for its original purpose.

“Aldric, prepare yourself! The enemy is approaching!” Hans exclaimed, brandishing his wooden sword with the zeal of a legendary warrior.

Aldric, who was only a few years older and much more practical in matters of war, barely had time to grab his own sword before Hans leaped from his bed with surprising agility for his short legs. The battle was fierce: Aldric defended his position atop his mattress while Hans attempted to invade it with the ferocity of a conqueror.

“I warn you, Hans!” Aldric said between playful strikes. “You have no rightful claim to the throne of my bed.”

Hans laughed, took a step back, and raised his sword with the solemnity of a crowned king.

“I am King Hans, the greatest of all warrior kings,” he declared, with the unwavering confidence only a seven-year-old could possess. “I shall rule the Southern Isles and wear the Navigator’s Crown, just like our great-great-grandfather! And I will take your bed!”

“No!”

“Yes! You shall sleep on the floor, Aldric! These are the king’s orders!”

“You are not my king, Hans,” Aldric countered, swiftly jumping from his own bed onto his younger brother’s. “Quick, the princess has been kidnapped by pirates!”

And with a leap, he dashed across the room, sword held high.

Hans didn’t move.

“Come on, Hans! The princess is in danger!”

“I don’t like that game.”

“What do you mean you don’t like it?”

“It’s always the same. The princess is in danger, the princess cries, the princess waits for someone to rescue her… It’s exhausting. Why does she always let herself get captured?”

Aldric blinked, incredulous.

“Hans, it is a king’s duty to rescue princesses!”

Hans frowned.

“Since when?”

“Since always. A king rescues princesses, holds parades, waves from the balcony, and gives bread to the poor.”

“That sounds so boring.”

“A king doesn’t just sit on a pile of gold like a fool!”

Hans tilted his head, thoughtful.

“Well, maybe you don’t know this, Aldric, but there are kings who just sit on piles of gold.”

“Not in this game!”

Hans huffed.

“Fine, if you insist so much, we can save the princess… But only because she’s the only one who knows where they hid my treasure chests.”

Aldric clutched his head.

“Hans!”

“What? That’s a very valid reason!”

Aldric shook his head and, with renewed determination, raised his sword.

“Forget it. I will fight alone.”

“Wait, wait.” Hans rested a hand on his hip and flashed a sly grin. “What if I really do become king one day?”

Aldric burst into laughter.

“You will never be king, at least not in these isles.”

Hans pursed his lips, thoughtful, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well… maybe if all of you died in an accident.”

Aldric smacked him with his wooden sword—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to show his indignation.

“That’s not funny, Hans!”

“What? I’m not saying I’d cause it, I’m just saying life is unpredictable.”

But Hans was already laughing, utterly unbothered by the moral implications of his words. His amusement, however, was cut short by a voice—gentle, yet possessing the authority only a mother could wield.

“Hans, you know I don’t like you talking like that.”

Both boys turned their heads to find the Queen standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a look of gentle reproach on her face. She wore a dark blue gown, and her hair was pinned in a bun that seemed moments away from unraveling, as if she had been tending to affairs all day.

Hans immediately lowered his head, dragging his sword along the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he murmured.

Aldric, though still mildly offended, decided the matter wasn’t worth dragging out.

The Queen sighed and stepped into the room, picking up a blanket the boys had tossed aside in their battle frenzy.

“It’s time for bed.”

“But we haven’t rescued the princess yet!” Hans protested.

“And we won’t,” Aldric replied, hands on his hips. “Because you’d rather count your gold than save her.”

“That is not how a prince should behave, Hans!” the Queen reprimanded, though now with a barely concealed smile.

“Alright, alright,” the little boy rolled his eyes and climbed into bed, though he refused to part with his sword, keeping it in his grasp like a royal scepter.

When their mother sat beside Aldric and began to tell a bedtime story, the older boy nestled under the blankets, listening with bright-eyed excitement. Hans, on the other hand, traced invisible patterns on his headboard with the tip of his sword, as if the tale was far less interesting than the grand battle he had just fought.

When the story ended, the Queen kissed Aldric’s forehead before turning to Hans with a warm smile.

“And you, my King? Why so quiet?”

Hans twirled his sword in the air, feigning indifference.

“Mother… where is Father?”

The Queen’s smile softened.

“Your father is busy this evening, my love. You know how much is required of him.”

Hans exhaled sharply and turned his head away.

“He is always busy.”

“You will see him in the morning,” she assured him, reaching to brush a stray lock of auburn hair from his forehead. “Before he leaves with your brother.”

At that, Hans stiffened. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his toy sword, his young face contorted in frustration.

“It is always ‘tomorrow.’ Always ‘later.’ But when it is Richard, he finds the time!”

The words burst from him, raw and unchecked. He sat up abruptly, his small frame taut with indignation. “He takes Richard with him everywhere. To meetings, to the council, even on rides through the city. They do things together. He talks to him. But he never—he never wants to do that with me.”

His voice faltered on the last words, yet the wound in them was unmistakable.

The Queen cupped his cheek with tenderness.

"I'm sorry you feel this way, my dear prince," she murmured. "I will speak to him about it, I promise."

Hans didn’t answer. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and turned away, as if he didn’t want her to see him like that.

“Hans…”

“It’s fine, I suppose someone has to be the favorite son.”

Before he could react, his mother lunged at him, trapping him in an embrace and covering his face in kisses.

”Favorite?! Favorite?! Hans Westergaard, how dare you say such a thing?!”

Hans shrieked, laughing and squirming in her grasp.

“Mother, no, stop, stop!”

“I will never let my little baby think such a horrible thing!”

Hans covered his face with his hands as she peppered his forehead, cheeks, and nose with loud kisses.

“Mother, stop! I’m not a baby!”

She cupped his face gently and whispered into his ear:

“You are my favorite son.”

Hans froze, eyes wide, until his mother laughed and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“But don’t tell your brothers,” she added conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t want them to get jealous.”

Hans felt his heart swell in his chest. Was it a joke? Maybe. But… maybe not.

A sly grin spread across his face.

“Oh, I’m telling them. All of them.”

His mother gasped in mock horror. “Hans! You wouldn’t dare!”

Hans simply laughed, and to his delight, she laughed with him—a warm, rich sound that made him less lonely.

As their laughter faded into quiet, he shifted beneath the covers, glancing up at her.

“Mother, can you stay a little longer?”

His mother stroked his hair lovingly but shook her head.

“I need to say goodnight to your other brothers, sweetheart.”

Hans felt his chest deflate all at once.

“Oh.”

“Sweet dreams, my prince” she whispered, as she stood up blowing him a tender kiss before leaving the room.

The chamber was left in twilight, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window. Aldric lay still, his eyes closed, his breathing already slow and steady, the soft rise and fall of his chest betraying the peacefulness of his slumber.

Hans, however, remained awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression.

Perhaps, he thought, when he was older, his father would pay as much attention to him as he did to Richard.

Maybe, someday, everyone would.

◆◇◆

Today I read a few pages of A Frozen Heart, and honestly, I can’t.

From the very beginning, Hans’s life is portrayed as a complete nightmare: his father treats him like garbage, his mother doesn’t even pay attention to him, and his brothers openly despise him. There are no nuances, no moments of reprieve, just a hostile environment where Hans is basically an outcast in his own family.

And that’s what bothers me. Not all families are loving, but in most cases, even in dysfunctional families, there is usually some kind of attachment. A brother who cares about you even if he doesn’t always show it, a mother who, though distant, has moments of tenderness, a father who, despite being strict, has a reason for it. But here? No. Everyone seems to hate Hans. They don’t even ignore him; they actively despise him. It’s as if his only purpose in the story is to make his life miserable.

And it’s not just the family—the entire kingdom is also a complete misery. It’s as if everything is designed for Hans to grow up in the worst possible environment, and in the end, obviously, he becomes a horrible person. It feels forced. There’s no room for interpretation or character complexity. It’s as if the book is telling you, “Look, everything in his life has been garbage, so he’s garbage too.”

As I turned the pages, everything just felt more exaggerated and sad. I already knew how the book ended—with Hans as the villain. I wasn’t expecting Hans to be a hero (I think Disney would go bankrupt if they showed him with even a bit of mercy), but I at least wanted (I hoped) some balance in his story.

In my version, I imagined something different. Even though Hans is the youngest of thirteen siblings, I thought his twelfth brother, being closest in age to him, could have been someone he shared more moments with. Although siblings can fight and have conflicts, they are also children, and children play together, form bonds, even in difficult environments. I liked the idea of exploring that dynamic, where not everything is pure hatred.

I also wanted to give more depth to the queen’s character. In A Frozen Heart, Hans’s mother seems indifferent, but I believe that, no matter how busy she was, at some point, she must have felt love for her children. I don’t imagine her as a perfect mother, but as someone who, within her responsibilities, tried to be affectionate when she could. On the other hand, I see the king as more distant, focused on his duties with no real connection to the children, which would have affected Hans in a more subtle and realistic way, leaving him desperate for some of his attention.

I wrote several fragments of this story with this vision in mind because I believe Hans’s story could have been much more interesting and nuanced, instead of simply making him a victim of an environment where everything and everyone is horrible without exception.

What do you think? Did you read Frozen Heart? Did I make a rushed judgment about the story? Am I mistaken?

Im totally convinced about plural Kristoff. Go smother this cutie with kudos and comments!

How You Kiss an Arendellian Princess

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Frozen (Disney Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Kristoff & Trolls, Bulda & Kristoff Characters: Kristoff, Anna, Trolls, Bulda Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Song: Fixer Upper (Maia Wilson & Cast of Frozen), There Was Only One Bed, Snowed In, Sunshine x grumpy dynamic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiplicity/Plurality, Kristoff Needs a Hug (Disney), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting Series: Part 2 of Kristoff and the Seven Trolls Summary:

The Arendellian princess will die in the eternal winter if she doesn’t stay the night in Kristoff’s cabin, and all Kristoff has to do is get through one night without falling for her. It would be much easier if there weren't just one stack of hay to lay on, one blanket to share, and seven rock trolls living in his head who keep trying to fix him up with a woman who’s engaged to someone else.

Or, an alternate meet cute where Anna wanders into Kristoff's cabin instead of Oaken's and the Valley of the Living Rock is inside Kristoff's head, where the rock trolls live.

Written for the Frozen x BATB Yuletide Exchange 2024.

I read something the other day about “waste your time, that’s when the good stuff happens” - and this is the very best of good stuff to procrastinate over!

Mountain Man

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M (swearing) WC: 3425

~This was a collab with @lukin08

Summary: Kristoff lives a solitary life off the grid in the wilds of Alaska.  He is a mountain man in every sense of the word.  When his supply pilot Anna is forced to stay with him and wait out a winter storm, his world is thrown completely out of balance.

Chapter Index

——————————-

Kristoff woke well before the sun, getting an early start on all the things he needed to prepare before the winter set in and he would be unable to navigate the hundred or so miles to the closest settlement of people.

Keep reading

Find an old treasure and renew its shine ✨

Let me tell you a short story about how it's never too late to comment on an "old" fic.

When I had one of my babies, a bunch of people brought me food that first week. It was wonderful!

Then, like 3 months later, someone brought me dinner out of the blue. They said they liked to do that because parents need support when their babies are 3 months old just as much as they need it when they're 3 days old. This was so special and appreciated!

This person didn't say to themselves, "It's too late to bring dinner now, it's been 3 months, it would be weird now." Because they knew it is never too late nor weird to be kind.

Let me say that again.

It is never too late nor weird to be kind.

My oldest kid is almost 16 years old now. If someone randomly brought me dinner now so I didn't have to cook tonight, I would worship them just as much as those people who brought me dinner 15 years ago.

Fanfic authors need your support when their fic is 15 years old just as much as they need it when it's 3 months old and just as they need it when it's 3 days old. There is literally never a time when it is too late to comment. Every nice comment is a gift and brings us joy.

So please go comment on someone's old fic today. Or bring someone dinner who's had a baby in the last 20 years. I guarantee neither of these recipients will think you're weird for supporting them.