A swirl glimmered silver on the right side of the road, flickering in and out of the shadow like heat over a grill. I glanced sidelong into the trees, half-expecting one of them to just roll into the middle of the road and laugh over the damage to my fender. FemKristoff, early/villainish-Elsa, ships ambiguous, AU.

Reverend Mother at the oaken door with a decanter of wine and a jar of honey. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices—

Her entire body shakes, taut, high wire, and Elsa feels a spike of terror, not being able to keep her own hands steady, her powers— Oneshot, Elsanna.

Gell's got his wand at Alb's throat and this is it for the oldest Dumbledore, he can finally let go. And he does, he smiles into Oblivion.