Portrait Room

Couple that with my usual issues with chronic pain and mental illnesses (I’ve been going back and forth on changing medications for a while now and doctor appointments aren’t stress-free ugh), things haven’t looked great concerning my writing hobby.

There were several months where using my hands became a huge trouble. I struggled with opening door knobs and handling items at work enough for coworkers to start doing it for me at times.

Also, it has been a very, very long time since I’ve found joy in things Frozen-related. Even before I dropped off the face of the earth I had been struggling with enjoying Frozen stuff (and I mean way before). 

That said, I hate that my stories are unfinished. And I miss writing small canon oneshots here and there. I can’t promise anything, but the desire to complete my works is still there.

Anyway, as for releasing information about how Sunshine would have gone, I’d be happy (and honored) to oblige. I might not reveal too many spoilerific things, but if anyone has Sunshine-related questions, they’re more than welcome to ask.

Like sitting outside her best friend’s apartment door, drawing snowman on the foul wall, and babbling about.

Maybe it was a good thing (of course it was a good thing) that she was in this group looking for support and weaning off stimulants. Because Anna babbled.

A lot.

Like the occasional question about Elsa. 

How was she liking the group? How did she get up the courage to go to group therapy. Did she like chocolate donuts Anna always brought to meeting? Anna thought so. Hoped so.

Elsa never left their meetings without leaving a thank you note to Anna for the donuts. Even if Anna hadn’t seen her taken one or even moved to the table.

Okay, so maybe Anna had expected Elsa to be soft and gentle. Elegant. The way Anna’s Nana had been when Anna was small enough to sit in her lap and beg for stories about Norway. Anna only remembered snowy mountain peaks before they moved.

But the quiet and the elegance, the snow-like skin and intense blue eyes. The cursive letters and small pink notes.

It all went out the window when Anna came to their Wednesday sessioon, slumping in her seat and blowing her nose into her sleeve. Puffy red eyes, spit, and thick wads of mucus covered her sleeve.

“Ew.”

Anna’s cheeks had burned with more than just fever. Then Elsa had paled when she realized what she had said. Her hands slapped across her mouth and her eyes widened. She looked like a deer Anna had seen as a tiny young thing, ready to bolt.

Anna, even off stimulants, could really talk.

“I know, it’s gross!” she whined. She wiped her nose again, eyes tearing up. “Stupid flu going around. Or fever. Or bug. Or whatever science calls it. I’m sorry, you’re probably wondering why I came today? Like, ‘Ugh, gross. Why would she come to a place where lots of people meet and share the air?’ Yeah, I know it sounds bad, but I’ve been having a rough week and I really, really needed to come today and—” Anna hiccuped and stopped. Her ears felt like a volcano and she tried to flash Elsa an apologetic grin, but Elsa remained frozen. Hands over her mouth and eyes wide.

Anna faltered. Why did she have to fumble around pretty girls so much?

But before she could dwell on it, Elsa dropped her hands and started fiddling in her purse. Anna blinked as a baby-blue handkerchief was all but shoved in her face.

“Anna, if you’re going to be stubborn about coming to meetings when you’re dripping snot everywhere and having trouble sitting up straight, then at least bring something to blow your nose with.”

Anna’s mouth dropped. Elsa pursed her lips, blue eyes hardening like chips of eye. The intensity had returned. But more like a howling blizzard than the freshly fallen snow Anna had started associating Elsa with.

Then Anna’s heartbeat quickened. Elsa had remembered her name. Her name. And she sounded worried. She sounded like she cared. Anna ducked her head and took the handkerchief with shaky fingers. She blew into and tried not to blush harder when Elsa’s expression softened and the edge of her lips twitched into a smile.

“Thank you, uh—” Anna started and stopped, cheeks as red as hair now. 

Elsa crossed her arms over her torso and gave a half-shrug, that tiny smile still there. “You can call me Elsa.”

Anna bit her lip to prevent herself from grinning ear to ear. “Thank you Elsa.”

Elsa’s smile widened, her eyes twinkled, and a faint pink bloomed on her cheeks.

if I didn’t keep thinking “they’re all adult gloves...”

literally same size, shape, and color