#but in my defense I made up Crocus’s personality while drawing her

[quibbs126]

hmm... kumidark (kumiho & dark choco) fankid maybe?? 👁️👁️

I got you bro, this boy is Mallomar Cookie

So I wanted to name him after chocolate covered marshmallows, since Kumiho is a marshmallow fox, and I wasn’t initially going to go with Mallomar, since from what I understand, that’s a brand name, and those aren’t really used in Cookie Run, unless there’s a crossover or something. But when looking at the other names I could find (chocolate kiss, chocolate teacake, whippet), I didn’t think they really fit him, so I just went back to Mallomar

I feel like Choco Kiss could work, but only if it was a fusion

These are mallomars, but I based him more off of just regular chocolate covered marshmallow cookies

I feel like his hair looks too big and poofy, but what I was going for was his hair looking like tails, sort of like Kumiho, as well as making them look sort emulate a chocolate covered marshmallow. I added the blue because I thought his colors didn’t have enough Kumiho

But anyways, on to this kid, since I have stuff for him

So Mallomar Cookie is a small little kid, but he’ll eventually hit a growth spurt and become large like his father and grandfather. But until then, he is a tiny gremlin

He’s a bit of a mischief maker, but usually gets stopped by his parents. Or at least Dark Choco, Kumiho might enable him. But at his core, he’s a good kid, he just likes playing pranks

He’s also a lover of foxes, for probably obvious reasons. I was thinking that the fox whiskers on his face might be painted, but I’m also considering just making them something he was born with

So I was thinking that the two had Mallomar after Kumiho became a real Cookie, but I’m also considering the idea of Kumiho still being a fox. Like, I want to draw Mallomar hugging a fox, and maybe it could be Kumiho? I dunno. But regardless of whether or not Kumiho is still a fox, Mallomar definitely inherited some fox weirdness. And possibly he might be able to turn into a fox as well? Apparently there’s at least one story of a male kumiho in folklore, so it’s not out of the question. But I imagine Kumiho was convinced they’d have a girl, only to be surprised and have a boy

Oh, also to explain that picture of him with the glowing eyes, another consequence of his heritage (which could just be Kumiho’s fox magic, but possibly left over influence of the Strawberry Jam Sword) is that Mallomar has the power to basically mind control people when they look into his glowing eyes. He can’t really control it yet

But yeah, I think that’s it for Mallomar. To be honest, I really like him, I might draw him again. I wanna do like, a whole sketch page with him

Hope you enjoy!

[frozenprocedural]

TDOE, Day 2

Angst? Did someone ask for angst? No? Whoops. 

Sorry, Alarik (who belongs to @patricia-von-arundel)

Rating: T, for descriptions of violence, blood and some language.

Wounded

They struck while Alarik wandered throughout a crocus field he’d found a few days earlier in his wanderings. He’d been sorting through the bulbs, trying to find the perfect ones for Elsa, when he heard rapid footsteps behind him. Before he could turn to face the oncoming person, something struck the back of his skull and he dropped to his knees. His vision swimming, it was all he could do to remain conscious as he was bound, gagged, blindfolded and thrown over the back of a horse. A man shouted- what he said was lost to the fog in Alarik’s brain. The horse beneath him jolted forward, slamming his jaw shut- he tasted blood, and they were off.

The journey felt like it took hours, although Alarik had no way of knowing the true passage of time. The horse’s bumping gait sent constant spikes of pain jabbing throughout his head, and he lost consciousness several times. The men around him did not speak at all- he could only hear the occasional grunt and harsh breathing.

Eventually, the group slowed to a walk, and then stopped. Ahead, Alarik could hear someone speaking. Rough hands pulled him from the horse’s back, and he was dragged across the ground before being shoved to his knees. His blindfold was pulled away, and he blinked at the bright light that attacked his eyes. A hand grabbed his chin, pulling his face up, and he locked eyes with a sharp-nosed, red-haired man with sideburns. He looked somehow familiar, but Alarik’s slow thoughts could not place him. The man looked Alarik over, a sneer forming on his face. 

“THIS is who she married!?” The man thrust Alarik’s chin away with a laugh. “I suppose there’s no accounting for the ice bitch’s taste, then. No matter. As long as she comes for you, that’s what we need.” 

Elsa. They were after Elsa. 

A sudden surge of energy surged through Alarik, clearing the fog in his mind. With a muffled roar, he rose to his feet- managing to slip past the men on either side of him- and lunged at the man in front of him. He needed to do something, anything to stop him, to keep him away from his wife. Alarik didn’t get far. The men he’d slipped past were back at his side, pulling him back, slamming him to the ground. A boot landed squarely in his back, driving the breath from his lungs.

“Easy, gentlemen. We do need him alive, after all. Make sure he’s tied well, though.” A pair of boots entered Alarik’s vision, and the red-haired man grabbed a handful of his hair and cut it, sending a streak of pain across Alarik’s neck as the man’s blade tore across it. The man then dropped his foot onto Alarik’s hand, causing him to cry out as the bones in his wrist ground together. Two fingers reached out and pulled the wedding ring from Alarik’s finger. Wrapping the strands he’d cut from Alarik’s head about the ring, the man gave him a snarling grin. “Proof.”

The red-haired man turned away, tossing the ring at one of the men still mounted. “Head out. Send our message.” The other man nodded and spurred his horse into a gallop.

……….

“No one saw where he went?” 

Elsa stood before a group of Northuldra, trying to hold back the cold prickling beneath her skin. While it was not unusual for Alarik to wander off for hours at a time on his own- Elsa never minded, as she was wont to do the same- he always returned before nightfall to join her in the village. However, while the night had already arrived, Alarik remained absent. 

Elsa was about to call for Gale and ask her to begin scouting the woods when a shout rose from the trees outside camp. 

“There’s a rider approaching!” 

The Northuldra turned as one, a murmur rising throughout the crowd. Some switched their staves to a defensive position- the arrival of a rider so late at night could only herald bad news. Elsa’s hands tightened into fists, an icy mist swirling about her fingers. She forced several deep breaths, letting her fingers fall loose at her sides. The thunderous hoofbeats of a rapidly approaching horse filled the air, and seconds later, the rider came into view. More voices rose- the approaching man wore only rough, dark clothing that offered no indication of his origin- neither Arendellian nor Northuldra in nature. The man spurred his sweating mount through the crowd, forcing many Northuldra to dive out of the way to avoid getting trampled. The sight of a child barely pulled out of the way of a flying hoof drove Elsa to action. She leapt into the path of the charging horse, throwing up a low wall of ice to stop its run. The animal reared up, the whites of its eyes flashing.

“That is ENOUGH! Whatever your purpose here, you will not come through our lands like this! What is your business here?” Elsa stood tall, bringing forth the training she’d had in her years as a queen as she strode up to the rider.

Atop his horse, the man looked down at Elsa, his scarred face twisting into a sneer. “Huh. Would of thought the former Queen would be better dressed than that.” He gestured towards Elsa’s Northuldra tunic. Although some of the villagers around her growled and raised their staves in warning, Elsa remained unperturbed, raising her hands to settle those around her. 

“I said enough. State your business here, or I will see to it that you are made to leave.” Elsa allowed a few flakes to circle her hands in warning, locking eyes with the man. The man remained unmoved, even going so far as to lean forward in his saddle, his sneer growing.

“I’d watch those hands if I were you, Queenie. After all, I’m sure you don’t want your man hurt any more than he already is. Oh, and Hans sends his regards.” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a small object that glinted in the starlight. With a careless motion, he tossed the object at Elsa’s feet.

It was Alarik’s wedding band- and around it, a lock of his hair.

Elsa couldn’t move. She could only stare in horror at the ring where it rested against the toe of her boot as ice spread around her in a ragged circle. She bent down to retrieve the band in shaking hands, bile rising in her throat. Beside her, Honeymaren stepped forward, her staff raised, and many of the Northuldra followed her example, advancing on the rider. The man kicked his horse into a rear, drawing his sword and pointing it at Elsa. 

“Call them off! Call them off, now. If I don’t return- unharmed- your husband will suffer. Every blow, every strike, will be used on him. He won’t die, but He. Will. SUFFER. Are you willing to bring this on him?”

“Step back. Everyone, please.” Elsa’s voice was little more than a whisper, but Honeymaren heard and waved the others back- they followed her command, although none lowered their staves. The man grunted and reigned in his horse, pointing a finger at Elsa. 

“Tomorrow. You will meet us tomorrow at dawn at the Nordporten river entrance. Come alone." 

……….

Elsa did not sleep that night. Ryder and several other Northuldra attempted to follow the rider after he left camp, but returned two hours later to explain that the man had left his near-dead horse at the banks of the river, at which point he boarded a boat and headed into the rapids, likely away from the others.

She then spent several hours with the Northuldra council, arguing against their insistence that they accompany her to the meeting site. She was finally able to convince them to remain at least far enough away to remain out of sight. She sent a letter with Gale back to Arendelle asking, begging Anna to prepare funds for any ransom Hans might ask for. Anna’s response came back in the form of six hastily-scrawled words- “On my way. Whatever you need.” Elsa spent the remainder of the night pacing their shared lodge, ice spreading in a path beneath her feet, until she could hold back no longer, and started towards Nordporten. She was not at all surprised to see Honeymaren, Ryder and another dozen Northuldra fall into step beside her, silent save for the crunch of their boots on the detritus. 

They arrived at the small village in the grey light of false dawn. Anna was already there, surrounded by a number of Nordporten citizens who watched the incoming group with wide eyes. Anna broke away from the group, throwing her arms around Elsa. When she drew back, Elsa could see a sheen in Anna’s eyes before she wiped a sleeve across her face. Anna’s appearance was haggard and disheveled- she’d clearly spent a good portion of the night travelling to Nordporten. 

“Whatever you need, name it. I’m here.”

Elsa stepped back, shaking her head. “I...I have to go alone. I can’t risk anyone coming with me.” 

Anna didn’t argue. “I know. I’ll stay with Honeymaren and the others. But know I’m here, whatever Hans’ demands, I’m here.” Anna folded Elsa in one more hug. 

Then she was alone, walking to the river delta as the sun’s rays began to breach the horizon, painting everything red. Near a copse of trees, Elsa could see a small group of people surrounding a single figure kneeling on the ground. Elsa’s pace increased until she stood within ten meters of the group, at which point she could clearly see Alarik. She stumbled to a stop. Bound and gagged, his head hung, and she could see that he was covered in bruises and lacerations. At her strangled gasp, he lifted his head, revealing a black eye and swollen, cut lips. 

Just then, a familiar figure stepped forward, pointing a pistol at Alarik’s head. Following his lead, the seven other men circling Alarik raised a collection of weapons- some pistols, some crossbows- and pointed them at her husband as well. 

“That’s close enough, Elsa. We wouldn’t want any… accidents to happen, now would we?” Hans thumbed the trigger of the pistol, a sneer crossing his face. “Now, I’m going to lay some ground rules for this interaction. No ice, no snow, no tricks. You may be able to kill me- perhaps even my men here, but know this, there are more of us hidden here. You will not get to him before they slaughter him, do you understand?” When Elsa didn’t immediately respond, Hans’ sneer changed into a snarl as he jabbed the barrel of the pistol into Alarik’s temple. “I said, do you understand!?”

Elsa reached out, freezing when the men surrounding Alarik pressed closer. “YES! Yes, I understand! Please, please, don’t hurt him. Whatever you want, whatever payment you require, I will give it to you. You have my word.” Beneath her skin, her magic prickled and stung, threatening to explode. She forced several gulps of air, struggling to force it back, to keep Alarik safe. 

Hans chuckled as he pulled the pistol away from Alarik’s temple. “Payment? Oh, no, it’s not payment I’m looking for. No, Elsa, what I want is far more valuable than mere coin. You will be my guide. My guide to the source of your power. The White River.” 

Elsa’s legs nearly gave out at that point, and she took several staggering steps backwards, the ice in her veins all but burning for release. Alarik looked up as well, shaking his head in panic. “How… how do you know about Ahtohallan?”

Hans’ smile had a mocking quality. “Come now Elsa, did you really believe such a place could be kept secret? Now, let’s not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. You lead myself and my men to the White River- safely- and once we’ve gotten what we need, once we are out and safe, perhaps then I will see to it that your husband is given back to you and safe.” 

Elsa shook her head, ice coating her palms despite her efforts to hold it back. “Hans, I… I can’t. Ahtohallan will kill you. It killed me. You can’t do this and survive.” 

Moving with a speed and savagery that drew a sharp breath from Elsa, Hans slammed the butt of his pistol into the side of Alarik’s head, opening a large gash on the side of his head. His features contorting, Hans stuck a finger in Elsa’s direction. “Do you think I’m kidding, Elsa!? Do you think that I will hold back? I. Will. Kill. Him. Now. Let’s try this again, shall we? You are going to guide us to Ahtohallan. You will keep it from killing me- I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it, or he DIES!” Hans’ last words came out as a roar as he leveled the pistol once more at Alarik’s head.

Elsa couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She sank to her knees, ice spreading in a circle about her as her voice escaped in desperate sobs. “Please, PLEASE. Hans, I can’t control Ahtohallan. It will know something’s wrong, and I won’t be able to stop it. Please see reason. No matter if I am with you or not, going into Ahtohallan would be suicide. I’m begging you, please.”

Any response Hans may have made was cut short when a scream erupted from the woods surrounding them as they exploded into flame. Gale’s familiar whistle had transformed into a furious scream, and Bruni’s shrieks provided a disharmonious cacophony to the chaos. The men surrounding Alarik were suddenly hurled backwards as the earth bucked and roiled, thrusting giant fingers of stone in a circle around Alarik. Tendrils of water gripped the ankles of the men thrown by the earth, dragging them into the sea. From behind Elsa, the sound of rushing footsteps filled the air as a mix of Northuldra and Arendellian soldiers thundered out from their cover, shouting battle cries as they swept in to engage Hans’ men. Elsa was already on her feet, hurtling down to where Alarik kneeled, watching the action with panicked eyes. After a quick check to ensure none of Hans’ men were near, Elsa tapped one of the nearby stones, causing them to retreat back into the earth with a rumble. And then she was at his side once more. 

……….

Elsa leaned over Alarik, her breath harsh and panting, her hands grazing over the manacles. “Give me a moment, Alarik, I’ll have these off.” 

Elsa, intent in her task, and with her back turned, was unaware of Hans rising behind her. His teeth, covered in a film of blood from a cut on his lip, were bared in a feral snarl. He snatched a pistol from the hand of a downed soldier next to him and raised it to aim at Elsa’s back. 

NO. 

Though battered and exhausted from his torment, some wild, blazing energy exploded throughout Alarik’s body. He surged upwards, shoving his shoulder into her, throwing her to the ground. Her wordless shout came to him fractions of a second before the telltale crack of the firing weapon. 

Pain. White-hold and ice-cold at the same time, radiating from the point of impact, driving him to his knees, his breath burning in his lungs. His hands, shaking, pressed to the wound in some desperate, inadequate attempt to staunch the flow of blood. It flowed through his fingers, hot and sticky, draining what little strength remained to him. Finally, he could hold himself up no longer, falling to the ground with an agonizing jolt.

From his left, he heard Elsa howl. Hans’ body spasmed as a half-dozen icy spikes speared him, thrusting him a meter into the air. And then Elsa dropped into his sight line, her eyes pooling with tears.

“No, no, NO! Alarik, no!” Her hands were traveling to his wound, and he could feel the cold seeping through, the trembling. “Stay with me, stay with me, please!” He could hear the panic, the desperation in her voice, and he wished he could do something, say something to ease her, to let her know it would be alright. But there was a weight pressing on his chest like a boulder, making even the simple act of breathing a near impossible task. With an effort, he brought a hand to hers, forgetting the blood there, twining his fingers through hers. Though it hurt, hurt immensely, he found enough within him to whisper to her.

“Elsa…love… you...”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright. We’ll fix this, Alarik, we’ll fix this. Stay with me.” 

He shook his head, trying to smile- though he was sure it was more of a grimace- and squeezed her hand, wanting to say more, to reassure her. But there was nothing left, and his vision was graying, blurring, fading. It was regrettable, that this was the end, but at least he was with her, holding her, and she was safe. It would be enough. It would have to be. He could only pray now that she would find the strength to go on, that Anna and Kristoff and Neta would be there to hold her up. 

Elsa was looking around- he felt it more than saw it- and he faintly heard her screaming “Nokk! NØKK!” She drew him into her lap, and he felt them rise somewhat from the forest floor, a cold platform beneath the burning pain of his back. She returned to reassuring him, whispering that she would fix it, but now his vision was almost gone, and her voice was sounding farther and farther off. He felt her hand squeezing his once more.

Then, darkness. 

………

She was covered in blood. His blood, grossly warm against her skin.

Tremors wracked Elsa’s body as Alarik fell limp against her, as she screamed for Nøkk. Around her, the walls of a small ice canoe formed, and she sent out a spray of ice to allow the craft to glide to the water’s edge. Her hands searched for the wound, found it, and she had to steel herself against pulling away at the absolute wrongness of the feeling. A steadying breath, and she let her magic rise to the surface and coat the wound in ice, tears of relief falling when the bleeding finally stopped. Alarik’s breathing, however, remained labored and weak, with a wet, raspy sound accompanying each rise of his chest. As she rose, Nøkk exploded from the waves, screaming in rage, filling her mind with feelings of rage and panic. Elsa gripped their muzzle, forcing their eyes to meet hers, pushing back her own rising storm. She needed to be strong, for Alarik. She let her power flow once more, transforming the rippling water of Nøkk’s body into one of ice.

“Get us to the Valley of the Living Rock. Hurry, please.” Nøkk paused, then nodded their head, falling still as Elsa conjured an ice harness to wrap around them. She leapt into the canoe, cradling Alarik’s head in her lap as Nøkk leapt forward, dragging the canoe at a breathtaking pace. “Stay with me Alarik, stay with me.”

They arrived at the Valley within ten minutes, Nøkk pulling the canoe at a speed far greater than any mortal being could sustain. Nøkk stopped a few feet away from what Elsa knew to be the Valley’s entrance, shaking their head. A thought drifted to Elsa- they couldn’t pass. She nodded, pressing her hand to Nøkk’s side in silent thanks before stepping forward, the canoe following the trail of ice she left beneath her. A figure dropped from a bough before her, holding a staff, and Elsa stepped back, ice spikes forming in a semi-circle about her. Elsa pulled in a shaking breath. 

“Please, I need to see Pabbie. I…” The man raised a hand, staying her words. 

“This way, Spirit. We will see to him.” The man tapped his staff on the ground, producing a glow similar to a torch, lighting the path before them as well as the man’s misshapen form. Elsa dissipated the spikes and followed the man's lurching gait, casting worried glances at Alarik's pale form in the canoe as it slid along behind her.

She didn't know how long they walked, but eventually they arrived at a small clearing. More craggy people emerged from the woods, watching with wide, bright eyes, and Elsa could hear their whispers as she passed. 

"Enough." The crowd fell silent, parting as an ancient figure with long, thin arms like twigs approached. Elsa sank to her knees, the last of her composure slipping away as he approached. 

"Pabbie. Please. Please help him. Whatever you need, I-" Her words fell away as Pabbie captured her hand in both of his slim ones. 

"Peace, Elsa." His voice was warm, and she found herself relaxing as he locked eyes with her. "All will be done to save him." Pabbie released her hand and made his way to the canoe. Elsa willed the craft to melt, allowing the man easier access, and watched as Pabbie examined Alarik's wound and bent his head to listen to his breathing. Elsa’s hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her skin as she prayed- to who or what, she did not know, but she prayed nonetheless- that something, anything could be done to save him. After what seemed to be eternity- though it was likely no more than a minute or so, Pabbie raised his head, meeting Elsa’s eyes once more. 

“The bullet created a wound that causes air and blood to enter his chest. It presses on his lungs and heart.” 

His words felt like a physical blow, and Elsa let out a small cry, helpless to stop it. Pabbie held up a hand.

“Peace, Elsa. He can be healed.” With that, Pabbie turned back to Alarik’s still form, his fingers moving in strange patterns across Alarik’s body. Pabbie began to chant, his voice taking on a low, animalistic quality as light gathered beneath his palms. The light danced and twirled, following Pabbie’s fingers, before sinking into Alarik’s skin, casting a strange glow. Alarik twitched and groaned, his eyes dancing beneath his lids, and Elsa started forward, only to be stopped by the man who had led her in. 

“Wait.”

The healing crescendoed, lights encompassing the whole of Alarik’s form, diving into his wound in streamers, until suddenly it all stopped. Elsa blinked at the sudden darkness. When her vision cleared, she could see Alarik laying still once more, however, all evidence of his wound was gone, and his breathing had returned to the slow, even cadence of sleep. With a choked sob, Elsa rushed to his side, running her hands through his hair and whispering his name over and over. Alarik didn’t stir.

“He will sleep for several hours. The wound is healed, but his body requires further rest. As does yours, Elsa.” At Pabbie’s words, Elsa became aware of the exhaustion dragging at her mind and limbs, but she fought it, unwilling to leave Alarik’s side. Pabbie smiled then, and turned, murmuring something in the guttural language she’d heard upon her arrival. Several men and women stepped forward and surrounded Alarik, lifting his body with gentle ease. Pabbie offered his hand to Elsa, and she took it, following the small procession to the single stone building in the area. As she stepped inside, Elsa could see that a bed of what appeared to be moss had been made near the hearth- the men and women placed Alarik there, covering him with a rough woolen blanket. Elsa settled next to him, ignoring the discomfort of the fire, and ran a hand through his curls again, needing to reassure herself that he was there, truly still there, and alive. 

“You should eat, dear.” Elsa started at the motherly voice, turning to see a woman approach on, not legs, but her hands. A distant memory stirred, bringing forth a name- Bulda- and Elsa remembered Kristoff speaking of his adopted mother. It could be no other. Bulda smiled at her recognition, and with a practiced movement, she pushed forward a small stone bowl of what appeared to be a stew, steam rising from its surface. When Elsa hesitated, Bulda nudged the bowl closer, her smile growing.

“Eat. He won’t go anywhere. And you won’t help him by starving yourself.” 

“Th- Thank you.” Elsa finally took the bowl and picked up the roughly-carved spoon floating within, forcing herself to take a bite. And another, and another, as the food reminded her just how famished she was. Within a minute, the stew was gone. Bulda chuckled as another woman came forward to take the bowl. 

“You are welcome to stay here. Rest, and let us know if there is anything you need.” With a roll of her body that Elsa guessed was to be a nod, Bulda walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

Elsa settled herself closer to Alarik, fighting the weariness that pulled at her body.

……….

Alarik came awake slowly, aware at first only of a general ache that pulsed throughout the entirety of his body. He tried to remember what he’d done this time- had he fallen again? His fuzzy mind searched, and then a jolt ran through him as the memory fell into place. Abducted, beaten and bruised, Elsa at his side, Hans leveling a pistol, the icy heat of the bullet entering his chest…

Alarik’s eyes shot open, and he tried to sit up, only succeeding in a groan of pain when his chest protested at the movement, sending waves of pain throughout his body. He didn’t know where he was- all he could see was stone illuminated by a low burning fire. Was he dead? 

“Alarik, no, shhhhh. You’re alright. Lay down please, you need to take it easy.” That voice, so achingly familiar, and then there she was- gathering his hand into her own, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

“El… Elsa?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, muddying his words, but she smiled at him and nodded, reaching out to cup his cheek. He leaned into the coolness of her skin, relishing in the contact. “What… happened?” 

“Later, Alarik. You’re safe, as am I. Rest now, and I’ll explain later.” He nodded, feeling exhaustion pulling at his body. As he sank once more, he gave her fingers a squeeze, and realized that his wedding band had been returned to his finger.

“Stay with me?” 

“Always.”