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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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From One Master to Another

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Gordon Ramsay isn't a classically trained pastry chef; he knows the savory, not the sweet. This time, the coursework involves instruction in desserts--and he'll find that he has just as much to learn as his students, Vil and Jack, do. I conducted a lot of research for this installment (reading articles on how to ice cakes + the science behind macarons, and, of course, watching videos where GR gets humbled and learns from fellow culinary masters). It provided me with a fresh perspective to write from~

Imagine this...

"... Jack."

"Yes, Vil-senpai?"

"What exactly am I looking at?"

Several countertops were covered in baking trays. Sugar circles sat upon waxy sheets, some collapsed and thinned out like wafers, others risen then caved in and cracked. It was an array of imperfections spanning the muted colors of the rainbow.

Jack clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable urge to itch the ears tucked under his hat, or to tear away the tangle of hair net containing his tail. His chef's jacket seemed to be straining to contain the entire bulk of him.

"Macarons," Jack reported.

Vil lifted a brow.

"... Er, at least they're supposed to be macarons," his underclassman awkwardly clarified.

Vil granted him a look of sympathy. "The poor things."

"W-Well, how did you do with your assignment?!" Jack stammered, eager to shift the subject. He glanced to Vil's table.

Lips pursed.

The model had gone with a light wash of makeup, simply a neutral brown gradient on his lids. His hair was arranged in a tight, tidy bun, flaxen bangs pinned back. Vil presented almost as flawless as a mirror's face—but certainly his cake didn't.

It was two layers tall (Jack had watched him saw and shape them earlier), stacked upon each other with a layer of buttercream sandwiched between them. The cake was starting to slope, as if in a desperate attempt to crawl to the exit. A coat of uneven chocolate frosting had hardened, forming odd peaks and lumps in a crust.

“That’s pretty rough.” Vil bristled at the words—sparse, yet biting. Jack continued. “How many cakes does this make, four?”

The question, unintentional needling.

“Seven,” Vil begrudgingly corrected him. Then, a small smirk formed. “And yourself? How many batches of macarons does this make?”

“Urk…!” Jack’s ears flattened, his bushy tail limp. “I guess we could both use more practice…”

“Jesus.”

The curse was spoken in a hissing whisper, emerging from neither from Vil nor Jack. It came from their teacher, an older man with weathered features—the result of wisdom and stress. He had been perched off to the side, observing his students’ skills in action, his frown seemingly ever extending as the mistakes piled up.

“Right then, maybe this isn’t working out,” Gordon Ramsay muttered, his eyes passing over a macaron graveyard and the crumbling cake mountains.

Not for lack of trying.

“Chef!” Jack immediately stood at attention. “We did our best to follow your instructions.”

“As you can see, the results were not particularly fruitful,” Vil chimed in. “We could do with additional instruction.”

Gordon startled, gaping at them. “Wait, you two want me to teach you more? You’re willing to listen?”

“Yessir!! Please guide us.”

“It’s as Jack says. We are here to learn and to enhance our culinary skillsets. We shouldn’t dawdle.” Vil narrowed his eyes. “Why do you act so surprised?”

“Can’t say this has happened very often.” Gordon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The last time I had a pair of students this cooperative was months ago.”

“Just what exactly have the other Culinary Crucibles students put you through?” Vil angrily planted his hands on his hips. “Were Epel and Rook being disrespectful?"

Jack hesitated not wishing to speak ill of his Savanaclaw seniors. Still, it was easy for his mind to conjure the image of Ruggie swiping leftovers when no one was looking—“Free food is free food!”—and Leona yawning, mentally checked out of the situation.

"It's not hard to imagine," Jack confessed.

"They'll be getting an earful from me later!"

"Hmph, kids will be kids. I've dealt with cocky adults double their age or older acting like bigger babies. What's important is that they walked out of my kitchen better than when they first walked in."

Gordon leaned against a counter and folded his arms. Air escaped through his teeth. “Boys, I’ll be straight with you. Sweets, baking—it isn’t my specialty. I could try and teach you all bloody day and we'd still get nowhere."

“Are you serious?” Jack frowned. “So that means…”

"What I've already shown you is all I've picked up from experts back home. We've hit the ceiling."

“This can’t be!” Vil reeled, looking vaguely appalled. “If it’s come to this, then how will we possibly improve our craft?"

"I don't know."

I've never been in a kitchen where I haven't been in control.

"This is a fucking mess," Gordon groaned. I've failed my students.

“What’s with all the doom and gloom?”

Gordon bolted upright at the sudden voice.

A plump ghost manifested, suited up in a chef's jacket and hat. His face was as puffy as a marshmallows, and his belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly.

The head chef at Night Raven College.

"You fellas look like you've seen a ghost," he joked. "But never mind that. I noticed you’ve been standing around and being sad for a while now.”

“Right, that—” Gordon exchanged an anxious look with his students. He fumbled for an explanation, but didn’t have to.

“Oh my! Did you make these?” the ghost chef indicated the macarons and cakes. They were hard to miss. “Brave of you to start off with such finicky things. All in all, they’re not bad attempts."

"They're not?"

The ghost chuckled. “Of course not. How many times do you think a pastry chef muddles macarons or ices a cake incorrectly before it’s passable? It’s one part skill, one part practice, and one part learning as you go. Here, let me show you some tips and tricks I picked up myself.”

Vil, Jack—and even Gordon himself—watched in silent awe as the ghost chef went about his work.

Ingredients were effortlessly measured and sifter into a bowl (“Keeps it free of lumps!”), then whipped egg whites carefully folded into the batter. “You want stiff peaks for the whites, and minimum folding to get it incorporated!” Once the macarons were piped onto a sheet, the chef picked up the tray and slammed it down several times—“To scare off the air bubbles.”

The batch of macarons was slid into a waiting oven, and he started on his next task.

Into a stand mixer went several sticks of butter. The machine came to life, whipping the fats well.

“Traditional buttercream forms a crust over time,” the ghost chef explained. “That gets gritty and unpleasant! So here’s an alternate version that doesn’t crust. It’s less sweet, but still stable, easy to work with.“

He lifted a bottle and tipped its contents into the aerated butter. Transparent syrup fell in thick rivulets, and he grinned. Powdered sugar followed, visible only for seconds before it disappeared into the gathering frosting.

“The secret is light corn syrup. Using dissolved sugar instead of powdered makes the frosting smooth and stops it from hardening. Adds a fine luster to the frosting too!”

Using a spatula, he spooned the fresh buttercream into a piping bag and handed it off to Vil. “Scrape the stuff that’s on your cakes off and try again with this,” the ghost encouraged. “Should work like a dream!”

“Thank you,” Vil said, a little bewildered by the heft of the piping bag. “I will show you a beautiful dessert by yours truly.”

“Looking forward to it.”

DING!

The oven’s timer went off.

“That’s 13 minutes! Howl-kun, can you get the macarons?” called the ghost.

“Yes, Chef! I’m on it!” Jack, in a pair of heat-resistant mitts, marched to the oven and reached inside. He produced a tray of perfect pink domes, a cloud of ruffles—the macaron’s feet—at their bases. “Whoa.”

“A nice filling and they’ll be good to go. You’ve got it covered?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, good. Let us know if you need any help though, alright? That’s what your teachers are here for.”

Jack nodded, then retreated to his station. While the macarons cooled, he chopped white chocolate and tossed it into a pan with heavy cream. Moments later, they had melded into a rich ganache, sweetness hanging in a heavy cloud about it. One scoop was enough for a pair of shells, lightly pressed together.

Beside his junior, Vil was hard at work redoing a cake. His stand was set spinning, a bench scraper aligned to comb and smooth out the dollops of frosting he had painted along the sides. The cake was a blank white canvas, and Vil, the artist.

Sparks in their eyes, faces bright with the glow of determination.

“Incredible,” Gordon breathed, staring after the duo. He turned back to the head chef. “You made it look so easy.”

The ghost chef laughed and contentedly patted his stomach. “I’ve had my whole life and afterlife to master the skills!”

“No kidding. You saved my ass back there.”

And more importantly, he’s actually got the kids motivated again.

“You’re the one that’s helped us out a lot, Ramsay-kun. The kitchen is so short-staffed with so many students wanting to take the Culinary Crucibles elective this year. You took some of the instruction off of our hands. This is the very least I can do to return the favor.”

The head chef smiled. “Don’t forget, you can always call on us if you ever need help.”

“That right? Then I guess you wouldn’t mind helping me out with one more thing today.”

“Mm, what’s that?”

Gordon rolled up his sleeves, a newfound fire in his expression. “Please teach me too.”

“Huh?! You want me to teach you?”

“I’m as much of a student as they are—and I’d be honored to learn from a chef of your caliber.”

“Ramsay-kun…” The ghost teared up. “Oh, how could I refuse? I’d be happy to!! Go on now, get your own station set up and we can get started immediately.”

The creases in Gordon’s face lifted. His response, hearty and joyful.

“Yes, Chef!”

Vil glanced up from his cake. “… Are my eyes and ears deceiving me?”

“They aren’t.” Jack’s brows lifted. “I’m seeing and hearing it too.”

“It’s not so shocking,” Gordon grunted. “This is a school. We’re here to learn new skills and techniques—doesn’t matter if we’re student or teacher.“

“Fufufu,” Vil chuckled to himself. “Well, aren’t you humble?”

“Heh.” Jack found himself fighting to keep down a small smile. “I can respect that. Nothing wrong with a guy lookin’ to improve himself.”

“That makes three of us.”

We’re not that different at our very cores. Stubborn fools with dreams and aspirations of achieving something greater. For ourselves, for the ones around us.

The ghost chef clapped his doughy hands. “Isn’t this so exciting, class? We’re embarking on a culinary journey together! I hope you’re ready, because I sure am!”

They replied in unison, hearts united:

“Ready when you are, Chef!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Jack Howl #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons

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hiccanna-tidbits · 5 months

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@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 3 - Lost in the Clouds

***

Late night, relapse Driving steady but I’m ready for the whiplash Coffee and cigarettes Almost empty, but we’re buzzing from the regret

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

Barefoot in tall grass We’ve reached the palace but I’m betting that it won’t last Bright lights and mirrorball We might be hurting but I’m ready for the freefall

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

And if I open my eyes If I open my eyes Will it unravel? And if I turn the page If I turn the page Will I lose my shadow?

And if I open my eyes If I open my eyes Will it all unravel? And if I turn the page If I turn the page Will I lose my shadow?

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream You and me, lost in the clouds You and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

***

Rapunzel's been having the strangest dreams.

There's a boy, his face always unchanging. The one constant.

Sometimes, his hair is white. They're dancing through the sky, twirling round and round among the clouds. Dashing over snow-covered forests and sweeping in and out of ethereal castles floating in the air. Racing across airwaves until they're lost to the horizon.

Other times, his hair is brown. They're running barefoot through a meadow, trying to reach a distant castle. It feels like an eternity before they get there, crouching behind a hedge and watching strung lights in the palace gardens illumine the dusk. They whisper and giggle as they creep into an unguarded corridor and dash for the bustling ballroom.

She always wakes up before they get in a dance.

It's probably stupid, putting so much thought into some random visions cooked up by her unconscious mind. Fantasizing continuations for them in her waking life. But there's something about them that feels so...transcendent.

Rapunzel wishes she could talk to Jack about it. She feels like her bleach-haired coworker--one of the few people who accepts her eccentricities and random tangents without question--would understand.

The dreams are just awkward to bring up, considering he's the one starring in them. More awkward still that she's been having these dreams since long before she met him.

Rapunzel's been at the downtown 24-hour coffee joint for a little over a year now. Jack's a new hire--a college dropout trying to make ends meet.

Of course, Suddenly swooping in with the information that you've been dreaming about someone since you were a small child could do a lot to dampen an otherwise-promising friendship.

Rapunzel read somewhere that your brain never forgets a face. The unconscious can't make up a new person, so it's forced to use existing people you've met--no matter how briefly--as characters in its dreams.

The thing is that Rapunzel's pretty damn sure she never met Jackson Overland-Frost until three months ago.

Then, in the wee hours of one post-graveyard-shift morning, everything changes.

They're sitting in Jack's car, sipping mocha-hazelnut lattes and laughing about some diva of a customer who wanted a secret menu item they stopped carrying 7 years ago. Rapunzel takes a few drags of Jack's pack of cigarettes. It tastes disgusting, but she wants to impress him.

"You know, you don't have to do that if you don't like it," he says with a laugh. "I don't want to see you miserable."

And somehow, that warms her heart more than the approval she was seeking ever could.

When the sun finally peeks up, rosy gold outlines two entangled bodies. Crushed into the passenger's seat, pressing further and further into each other with frantic lips.

He was supposed to give her a ride home and be on his way. Now he's dropping her off 3 hours after her roommate was expecting her, stumbling through the apartment door disheveled and manic.

The panic and regret doesn't come until later.

The massive trouble they'd be in with their manager is only the tip of the iceberg. What would happen after a bad breakup, with them both trapped with each other at the same lifeline job? And the idea of just going out and trying to land another job? In this economy??? Absolutely unthinkable.

There's also the fact that Rapunzel has been in all of one serious relationship in her life. She fell hard for the resident Bad Boy With A Troubled Past in high school, and things fell apart precisely because they took things too fast. She and Eugene Fitzherbert had lip-locked not 48 hours after meeting for the first time, and things only picked up pace from there.

The incompatibilities emerged little by little. Things that didn't matter individually, but when blended together, painted something that just couldn't work anymore. Rapunzel blamed teenage hormones at the time, but it isn't as though she's doing much better now.

But the heart has a way of speaking louder than the mind, and Jack and Rapunzel continue their secret trysts in the staff parking lot and the grounds storage rooms. It isn't until 6 months after their first kiss that Jack says something that sets her mind at ease.

It's a cold December evening, cafe emptying out as people try to beat the coming snowstorm. They're stirring peppermint lattes for a couple of exhausted nursing students when Jack breaks the companionable silence.

"Do you believe in reincarnation, Zellie?"

She nearly knocks her latte over with her stirring stick.

"Do I what?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like..." He sighs. "We've always been on the same wavelength, but it's more than that. It's like I knew you in a past life or something. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all." She shakes her head firmly. "I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, as though debating whether or not to add something.

Apparently he decides to. "It's weird. Even before I met you, I was always having these dreams about a girl who reminded me a lot of you. And now that we're here together, it's like I found you again."

He chuckles, shaking his head. Rapunzel leans forward, rapt with interest.

"It was always the strangest things. I'd be dancing through the sky with her, or running through these floating castles, or--"

"--sneaking into a palace ball," Rapunzel finishes. "Because we were commoners, and we couldn't have gone otherwise."

"Oh shit!" Jack's eyes widen in delight. "You get them, too!"

Her entire being goes weak with relief. "Yes! Yes, for years! I thought I was crazy."

"And you lived in that cottage on the edge of the meadow." Jack screws his eyes shut, trying to remember. "With the crazy apothecary who never let you do anything. And I was--"

"--the shepherd's son!" Rapunzel beams. "We always danced in the field together, after your dad put the sheep to bed. But you wanted to crash high society, right? And I would have followed you anywhere."

He blushes a little at that, and Rapunzel can't help but giggle.

"But we never get to do that first dance, do we?" he says ruefully. "Not before I have to wake up at 5 am and go to work."

"Well...it's not too late, is it?" She holds out a hand. "May I have this dance, Sir Jackson Overland-Frost?"

"Here?"

"Why not?"

And so they twirl around the hardwood floors, surrounded by coffee machines and flavor syrup and rubber booths and the falling snow outside. Lost in their own private daydream, entwining their lives in this lifetime and the last and the next.

And maybe taking things fast wasn't so foolish when you've had a millennia to get to know them.

They could have gone all night were it not for the interruption 10 minutes later.

"Guys, please. Please. You're cute together and all, but my roommate and I have a final tomorrow and we need our caffeine fix. Please. We've been waiting on our lattes for 30 minutes now."

***

EYO YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH JACKUNZEL MONTH, DIDN'T YOU???

PSYCHE! I WILL get all my shit in by the end of the bonus week if it's the last thing I do!!!

Tfw you set out to do one prompt and accidentally ended up incorporating another XD So I guess this also kinda counts for "In Another Lifetime", whoops ^^;

I see your coffee shop AUs, and I raise you: Coffee shop AU, but they're BOTH baristas XD And they were coworkers!!! Just impulsively decided to do that because I thought it would be funny XD Truly nothing can make romance bloom between service workers like their shared disdain of The Customer™️

Actually very pleased with how both the moodboard and the minific came out :O The fic I did crank out in one day, so hopefully it won't look too sloppy later on XD

There's actually a whole series of cloud castle photo edits like the one in the bottom left moodboard pic, and I am in LOVE with them :O Picking just one for the moodboard was one of the hardest things I've ever done!!! They all have this kind of ethereal, liminal, eerie-yet-comforting quality to them that I am just enamored with. Like that would be the setting for exactly my brand of dark fantasy book :O If it doesn't exist out there somewhere then maybe I'll have to write it myself aaushdkshu

Poor Jack and Rapunzel. All they want is to hang out with high society and go to fancy balls, but they're doomed to continually be reincarnated as the poorest MFs alive 💔Although it would be funny as hell if Gothel kept getting reincarnated, too...and she steals Baby Rapunzel from a rich, powerful family every single fucking time for one reason or another. Hopefully one of these incarnations, Punz will find out about it ^^; Then she can be Jack's sugar mama ajhkuhdueyfg

As always, pic credits available upon request!

#jackunzel #jackunzelmonth #jackunzelmonth23 #moodboard #aesthetic #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rotg #rise of the guardians #crossover

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amberastra · 8 months

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WIP snippet game!

I was tagged by @ollieofthebeholder ages ago with the words Star, Hope, Green, Watch, and Thread and completely forgot (sorry!), and I was tagged again just a bit ago by @magnetarmadda with Gentle, Small, Strange, Answers, and Soil, so I figured I'd just do both at once! I don't have that many WIPs, so there'll be some repeats in here, but at least with 10 words I've got something from all of them.

Star - None! Though far too many variations on the word stare.....

Hope - From the epilogue of The Worth of a Life, a tma It's a Wonderful Life au

Shit. Had her friends gotten out alright? Everything had been such chaos, between the alarms blaring and the—the worms. God, she hoped the three of them were okay.

Green - From Life or Death, a Beetlejuice the Musical fic, that's a fusion with the Suffering Game arc of Taz Balance

Barbara turned to look at her husband, committing every detail to memory, from the exact shade of brown of his hair and eyes, to the greens of his plaid shirt. Adam smiled supportively at her, and reached out to clasp her hands. Distantly, she heard the demon make a noise of disgust.

Watch - From Where Once Was Light, a Rise of the Guardians fic that I found deep in my Google Docs last week

A short while later, a laughing Jack Frost knocked the snowcap off of the highest peak in the Alps, hitting it with his staff as if it were a golf ball and watching to see how far it flew. Grinning, he resumed his earlier course towards the North Pole. His detour had cost him a little bit of time, but since he already would have been late anyways, Jack didn’t see how it really mattered. Besides, what was the point of being able to fly if you were just going to pass up an opportunity like that?

Thread - From The Worth of a Life

Jon felt his throat close up as the familiar guilt flooded back through him. He couldn’t talk about what they’d done, not yet. It was still too much. But Martin was there beside him, ready to pick up the threads of the story from him.

Gentle - None again. Hmm, that feels concerning

Small - From Homecoming Hero, a Nimona oneshot following directly on from the events of the movie

Nimona froze mid-stride, one foot in the air. Then with a flash of pink, a small mouse was sitting on Ballister's shoulder. "Nope!" she said cheerfully. "Lead the way, boss."

Strange - Also feels weird that I don't have anything for this one

Answers - From Where Once Was Light

The man frowned slightly, not meeting any of their eyes as he said, "Yes... technically." "What happened to you?" Toothiana asked. None of the Guardians seemed to notice how he'd hesitated when answering Jack's question. At this though, his eyes snapped back onto the Guardians. "I really don't see how that's any of your business."

Soil - None of this either, it would seem

Then let's see, how about Narrow, Burn, Silence, Color, and Game

And anyone who sees this and feels like sharing their writing, feel free to consider yourself tagged!

#tag game #my writing #my fic #wow that sure is a spectrum of fandoms huh #tma #beetlejuice #nimona #rotg

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mooonlight-and-stars · 2 years

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The Writer and the Man of Winter

So, I finally have the motivation to write after three weeks of pure procrastination. So, without further ado, I present:

The Writer and the Man of Winter

(Also, please let me know how I did. This is my first fanfiction).

|Also None if the gifs used are mine|

Warnings: None (besides not being proofread)

Summary: It has been a hundred years since a new Guardian was chosen by Man in the Moon. What happens if someone was never expected to be selected in the first place? Or doesn’t she truly believe in herself?

Words: 1529

Part: Prologue

Jack Frost glided on the wind towards the North Pole. It was a chilly December night; there were barely any stars in the sky. Jack was confused as to why he was being called to the North Pole, considering that there had been no sighting of Pitch, or anyone else for that matter, that warranted calling the Guardians together. The only idea that Jack was sure of was that he was being called. Why else would the Northern Lights light up the night sky?

100 years prior

A dirty blonde hair fifteen-year-old girl was lying face-up down on an ash-covered library floor. Her face was covered in grime, pieces of her face destroyed by third-degree burns. Chunks of her hair were also missing small patches of skin on her arms and legs. Her black jumper was damaged after the fire, revealing an ashed-covered white camisole underneath. The rest of her body was crushed under a broken wooden beam falling from the ceiling above her.

Then, as if the moon hears her cries of agony, a ray of moonlight shined brightly on the poor girl. As if the moon held its own magic, the teenager started to hover ever so slightly, as if she was trying to reach and touch the moon. The wooden beam fell away, the girl gasping as the weight was relieved from her body. The girl’s once destroyed body was restored; her legs and arms were restored.

After her body was restored, the child herself started to change. Her dirty blonde hair was now split down the middle; one half stardust purple, the other a void black. Her clothes were changed as well. Instead of sporting her normal blue jeans and black jumper, the female had a pair of brown leggings and a maroon dress (with pockets). Her feet were covered with a couple of black ballet slippers.

As the female was lowered gently to the floor, the moonbeam started to fade away. In its place, a faint voice could be heard. Wryter…Your name shall be Wryter…

The girl moaned quietly as she opened her dark gold and silver eyes. She slowly sat up and looked around.

“Where am I? What happened?” She whispered quietly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. She got up and walked around, navigating the pieces of broken debris littered the library floor and ceiling. Then, it was as if someone was whispering beside her.

Wryter

“Who said that?” Wryter looked around, trying to figure out where the mysterious voice was coming from.

Many call me the Man in the Moon.

Wryter looked up at the moon and stared, her face skeptical. “What? I don’t understand.” Wryter skeptically said as she started to walk closer to the broken hole in the ceiling.

I gave you life, the gift of storytelling, so that you may help others with their own storytelling.

“I don’t, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” Wryter quietly said, confusion written on her face. “How am I supposed to help others when I don’t know exactly what to do? Or how to do it.”

Check your pockets

Wryter put her hands in her pockets and pulled out a “Pen? How am I supposed to use this pen if I don’t have any paper?” She looked back at the moon.

Just write

“Ok then,” Wryter slowly uncapped the pen and put it in the air, “Here it goes, nothing, I guess.”

As she was about to write, she stopped. “What do I write?” She looked at the moon. “Anything?” Not hearing a word from the moon, Wryter looked back at her pen, “Anything. Ok then.”

Wryter slowly started to write the word wolf in the air. When she had finished, it was as if the word was taking the shape of the wolf and coming to life! As Wryter inspected her masterpiece, she noticed that every piece of the animal had the word wolf in it, every ear and tail, and its paws.

“This is amazing!!!” Wryter started experimenting, writing on everything and everywhere, including her hands. She learned that what she wrote on her hands could disappear if she closed her hand and reappear if she opened them. She also knew that what she wrote on her hand would be tiny compared to something she wrote on a wall or floor. However, if she blew on the writing on her hands, the words would turn into dust and reappear full size on the ground in front of her.

One important note that Wryter made while she was experimenting is that if she walked away from her creations, they would disappear and turn back into the words she originally wrote.

As Wryter was working on her next animated worded object, she dropped her pen on the floor. However, when she went to pick it up, it turned into a surfboard. The surfboard itself was covered in words surfboard. “This is so cool!” Wryter hesitantly put one foot on the board. After finding it was stable, she put both feet on it. The board rose into the air, and a huge wind carried her out of the building. Sensing she wanted to get off, it lowered her towards the ground outside of the library. Wryter stepped off, and the surfboard turned back into her pen.

Wryter picked up her pen, capped it, and continued walking deep into the night. Walking down the road, she noticed a few college students walking about. She walked up to a few of them.

“Hello?” She didn’t receive an answer. As she was about to tap once on the shoulder, her hand went right through them. She looked at her hand and back at the person. “Well, that’s new?” She whispered quietly as she walked away.

Present Day

Jack flew through the window of North’s shop. As he settled on the ground, he noticed North and Bunnymund were in a heated discussion while Tooth was talking to her workers. Sandman saw him and gave him a small wave. “Uh, North? I hate to ask questions, but why did you call us?” North didn’t pay him any mind. Jack loudly cleared his voice.

North looked away from Bunnymund. “Ah, Jack! Glad you could join us.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I wanted to know…why you called us. I had this great winter storm idea that had to be put on hold.” Bunnymund nodded.

“Yeah, mate. We all wanted to know the answer to that question.” A question mark appeared above Sandy’s head.

“An yes. Manny informed me that there will be a new guardian!” North looked at all of them, glee and excitement on his face.

“A new guardian?” Tooth asked. “Why now?”

“Yeah. I’m aware there isn’t a need for a new guardian, considering that nothing has been happening for years now.” Bunnymund told North.

“Well, it seems as though trouble is brewing,” North whispered loudly for everyone to hear. All the yetis stopped what they were doing and just looked at North, worried.

“Trouble? What trouble?” Bunnymund asked. “As far as I’m aware, and we are aware, Pitch hasn’t been seen for years.”

“I do not know,” North replied, turning around as the crystal arose from the floor. “But, Manny says that there is trouble, I believe him. He hasn’t led us wrong yet.”

Then, as a gust of wind entered through the open window, a moonbeam shone on the crystal. Sandman had a four-leaf clover above his head.

“Really, Sandy. Not the Leprechaun.” Bunnymund replied, crossing his finger (paw things?).

Tooth gasped excitedly. “What if the guardian’s a girl?” Her tiny tooth fairies talked excitedly amongst each other.

“What we don’t need is another Jack Frost,” Bunnymund said as he looked at Jack.

“HEY! The people love me.” Jack jokingly yelled back at him.

Soon, before their same orbs, a girl's figure started to form. The female looked fifteen years old and was holding a pen in her hands as if she was about to write something. North looked at the Moon. “Wryter?”

“That is the new guardian?” Jack asked, bewildered.

“Now, hold on, mate. We didn’t say anything about you, did we?” Bunnymund asked.

“Well,” Tooth started. Sandy joined in, images flashing above his head, each quicker than before. Bunnymund glared at him.

“Anyways…” He coughed.

“The question is, who is going to get her?” North looked at everyone.

As if he was the flash, Bunnymund jumped down a rabbit hole.

“I don’t think so.” Jack took off after him. After a few minutes, everyone got back to work. Little did they know someone was watching.

“A new guardian? That changes everything.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Do not steal any of my works or repost without permission

#fanfiction #jack frost #rise of the gaurdians #toothfairy #wryter

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lepoppeta · 3 years

Text

Atlas loves him, desperately and hungrily. He loves him with the crash of arctic waves, with the searing heat of the sun and no breeze to quell the sting, with teeth and tongue and heart and soul and mind and all-encompassing body.

"I love you," he whispers into the mop of wheat-gold hair. Into his lips, into his lungs. "I loved you then, I love you still."

And if none of this works, if Tenenbaum's five percent turns out to be zero after all and he'll never relive the nights they fell together (into fire, into hell, but always together), Atlas will love him just the same. He has enough memories, enough stories, for the both of them, and they have a lifetime's more regardless from now until Rapture is nothing but rust and kelp a million miles away.

Atlas' fingers light over his forehead, gently brushing away the fine hairs that catch in his eyelashes. They briefly flutter. Amber-brown meets with tempest-grey -- sun warmth and moon frost. His name is sighed into the surrounding gloom.

"Are you afraid?" Atlas would be, if it were him.

Jack considers this. "I don't think so," he murmurs. "If there's a chance at getting it all back, I'd like to take it. However small."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Well..." (and when he smiles, so peacefully radiant, Atlas wants to taste it) "... you made me love you once. I'm sure you could do it again."

Atlas scoffs. "May I remind you that you kissed me first?"

"Yes," Jack whispers. He palms his jaw; effortlessly brings their foreheads to touch. Atlas may look dark and cold but he burns with the ire of a molten star. "Yes, you may remind me. As many times as it takes."

Atlas steals a kiss, then two then three then five. "Once was enough for me," Atlas rumbles into his mouth. "But for you I'd do it a thousand times."

#bioshock #jack ryan #atlas #jatlas #alternate universe #my writing

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳ A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that.

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

#🌼#daniel seavey #why dont we #jack avery #corbyn besson #jonah marais #zach herron #why dont we fanfic #wdw #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01 @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

#Jack Frost x Percy Jackson #Crackships keep fandom alive #Jack Frost #Percy Jackson #PJJG fanfic #the story of us #not edited

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sugar-and-pearls · 2 years

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Snowy Nights

Snow fell softly in the inky night sky as Hei walked back to the Umitsuki Apartments. Seven targets in one night was exhausting, imposing as Santa was even more so. All he wanted was some food and a long lie in right now.

“Li?” on second thought that could wait. Hei turned around to see Mai, his neighbour standing in her doorway. The sight of her warmed him as much as if he was seated by a roaring fire. Hair piled into a messy bun with stray curls framing her oval face. A black shawl covered her shoulders and body from the cold breeze, leaving only a glimpse of the red dotted white pajamas underneath. Through the crack of her doorway Hei could see her TV was on, some sort of Christmas movie playing in the background and the inviding smell of hot chocolate that waved its way over to his door. A homely picture if there ever was one.

“Why you dressed like that?” Mai asked as she leaned on her door, breaking his train of thought.

“The restaurant had a christmas party and I pulled the short straw” Hei answered bluntly. The lie came easily enough. It's not like he could tell her the truth.

“Ah” she made a sound like she didn’t believe him but wouldn’t press him on it.

“That makes sense. You’d make a really terrible Santa” He laughed naturally, feeling his mask slip a bit. Not fully but a little bit. It felt strange after having it on for so long. Somehow it always happened when Mai was near.

Gingerly and with a teasing smile on her face, Mai retched for Hei before pulling him by his belt. Her checks took on a rosy glow as she leaned into him, whether that came from the cold or from him Hei couldn’t really tell. She was so close that her breath fanned the bottom of his face. He could faintly pick up the smell of marshmallows on it.

Briefly Mai looked up only to stop and exacarbatently laugh. Slightly startled, Hei looked up too and saw what she was laughing at. Mistletoe hung above the doorway. In the light it looked as if a thin layer of frost covered its stem. He could have sworn he heard her say “Dammit Jack” but he couldn’t be sure.

“You know, I’ve always dreamed of a hot guy kissing me under the mistletoe but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” He looked down at Mai, only to see her gaze already on him, brown eyes starting at them like he hung the stars in the sky. He tried not to think about that, or how he could feel the heat of her body seeping through her clothing and into his, warming his frozen skin. She went on the tips of her toes and softly kissed him. If he were to ever describe the feeling of kissing her would compare it to a kindling fire.

He went to deepen the kiss but before Hei could do so Mai backed into her apartment pulling his belt along with her.

#Hei #Hedone talks #Hedone writes #self ship #self shipping community #self insert community #selfship community #selfship #self ship community #self shipping #self insert #fo community #romantic f/o #f/o community #Darker than Black

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zoethespiritwolf · 4 years

Text

~Falling Stars~ Jack Frost x reader

You taught me the courage of stars before you left

The night was peaceful. Not many souls were up at this hour, only those that needed to be as per my request to Sandman, the Guardian of Dreams. Those souls were that of a human, three of them in the nearby area, to be exact. All of them had wishes that they wanted to be fulfilled.

One of them was a seven-year-old girl that had neglective parents. She wanted to spend some time with them.

The second - a four-year-old boy that wanted his unborn sibling to be a brother.

The third - a sixteen-year-old girl that wanted her crush to like her back.

After checking the info on the list of wishes to be fulfilled in this area on my enchanted pocket watch, I promptly shut it closed, put it in my pocket, and prepared for my job.

You see, my job is to make the wishes of people, no matter how young or old they may be, come true by shooting an arrow at the skies to create a shooting star for them to wish on. But then again, not all believed in the power of a shooting star.

How light carries on endlessly, even after death

I took out an arrow or a shooting star as I like to call it out of the quiver on my back near my raven wings and prepared to shoot it with the silver bow. The arrow, also silver in color, created a mystical glow to itself as it shot through the air.

I set my bow down for a moment before pulling out my pocket watch again to see that only the two girls saw the arrow and the eldest one wished upon it. My brows furrowed at the revelation.

I'll have to talk to Bunnymund about this. I thought to myself with a sigh as I stood up. Easter is near so we might as well give her a little more hope than she already has.

"Whatcha thinking about, Cupid?" I yelped and almost dropped my pocket watch when I heard the young and sly voice of a boy say that.

After getting my bearings and hastily putting my watch in my pocket I turned to the source of the voice. It was a white-haired boy in a blue hoodie and brown leather pants with a wooden staff in his hand. His face adorned a sly grin as he looked at my scowling face.

"It's guardian/spirit of wishes or (Y/n) if you don't want to say the full title," I told him as I stepped closer to him. "Not Cupid, Jack."

"Oh come on!" Jack groaned teasingly, "it's fun calling you that."

With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite

"Besides," Jack continued as he stepped closer to me with his arms on his staff that was balanced on the nape of his neck. "What else would I call you? Maybe......Little sparrow, fallen angel, Star shooter, Hawkeye.... or maybe..."

I chuckled at the boy's given choices and briefly turned away from him with a small smile before my face was gently grabbed and brought to look back towards Jack. He was smiling lovingly and his eyes were soft.

How rare and beautiful it is to even exist

"...I can call you Angel?" he asked, moving his hand that held my face to my cheek, cupping it. Despite the hand being incredibly cold, it felt soft and made me nuzzle into it more.

"Maybe..." I whispered out while looking into his eyes. A familiar warmth spread through my whole body, one that appeared since we became a couple. Both of us were outcasts, unwanted and unseen by the children we had to please.

Slowly the two of us leaned in until our lips barely touched. Even with the little space we had between us, I could feel that his lips were cold yet smooth. Eventually, one of us had eliminated the space between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and gentle kiss between us.

How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist...

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Requested by Violet_Crawford on Wattpad.

The song used for this one-shot was Saturn by Sleeping At Last

#jack frost #jack frost x reader #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction

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vickers-n-lickers · 3 years

Text

Moonlit pt. 3

Trigger Warning: Unaliving thoughts, violence, zombies))

Six rounds left.

He thought about doing it right then and there.

Her first. Then him.

Jill warned him they always come back unless they get a bullet in the head.

Maybe she'd try to eat him if she came back.

I'd… deserve it.

Well, he thought he did.

Her ghost disagreed with the notion from the back of his mind.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Hey Joan, it's Dad. It's about four in the afternoon. I, uh, I accidentally picked up Jenna from the Y. Sorry, I thought it was my night. You can have Brad call off the search. I bet you both have been worried sick. She's up here in Stoneville with me. She and the dog are settled in for the night, I'll drop her off at school first thing in the morning and him at the house. I'm really sorry, Joan. Hey, do give me a call back so I make sure you got this message, okay? Love you, Scooter. Bye."

"Do you remember when you fell in love with me?" Brad asked, a grin crossing his lips when nails drug low along his stomach.

Joan made a thoughtful sound as she lifted her head. Messy strands of brunette were carefully tucked behind an ear. "That's a secret." She giggled when he squinted and scowled suddenly at her.

"Tell me."

Long fingers swept back wild strands. "Nope. Never. Don't you dare do puppy dog eyes. Bradley! That is blackmail. That is a crime, sir!"

Holding in a laugh, he poked out his lower lip to match the mournful lift in his brow. He smiled when she laughed.

"Ugh! You monster. Fine…" Rolling off of him, she nestled into the crook of his arm. "During the last bad blizzard."

Brad blinked, rolling on his side to face her. "That was three years before we started dating."

The woman just shrugged, tracing the line of his collarbone in the dark. "So?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You had so many female admirers, I knew I couldn't compete."

Brad's brows immediately quirked in confusion. "Who?"

"The ladies that work in the records office."

His jaw dropped in horror. "They're in their sixties and I don't appreciate those catcalls every time Wesker sends me down there."

Joan wrinkled her nose, fighting back a snicker. "I bet they all have your sweet recruitment poster on their bedroom ceilings."

"Oh my God, Joan! Why would you put that in my head?" He pulled away when she started cackling.

"I bet they call the number late night hoping you'll answer. 'Is there an oral exam, Brad?'," She squealed with laughter when wagging fingers went for her hips.

"C'mon. Real reason." His smile was so warm and free in the slant of light peeking through the blinds.

It always melted the frost off her spirit. A long sigh escaped, her hand smoothed over his as it ran up her cheek. "The real reason? Because I come with baggage."

He scoffed. "We all do."

She shook her head. "Jack always told me no man would want me with Jenna being on the spectrum and me being a single mother. I…" Her shoulders lifted and dropped. "Part of me believed him, I guess."

Brad was quiet for the longest time. The clock on the nightstand read twelve in glowing red. Unmoving, outside of breath and blinking, he spoke barely above a whisper. "That is the cruelest shit I've ever heard in my life. There's nothing wrong with Jenna. She's a little girl. Nobody can control that. You didn't expect to be Mom and Dad… What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Joan bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. That's Jack. He thinks he has an answer for everything. 'Everyone leaves, Joan. Remember your mother…'"

Brad's stare turned hard as he propped himself up with an elbow. "I'm not fuckin' going anywhere." Short nails ran over where moonlight met her shoulder. "Hey… You know when I fell in love with you?" His lips turned up when she shook her head again. "It was when you said 'I'm Joan'." When her form rose and fell harshly from breath, his arms looped and pulled her fast to him. Kissing away tears, his nose pressed along the side of hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Joan, it's Dad again. It's about nine o'clock. I really hope you have a good reason for not calling me back. The news is a mess so I recon you're still stuck in traffic trying to get home. Before I forget, your brother and his wife are going to be here tomorrow morning so how about you two just come on up for the rest of the week and weekend? Your brother's been jabberin' my ear off about meeting Brad anyway. They can talk shop about helicopters and we'll go fishin'. Love ya, Scooter. Byeeeee!"

The office stunk sterile. Jenna's dirty shoes swung back and forth on the exam table as she waited, expressive gray eyes fixed on the man sitting next to her on a chair. She reached out suddenly, poking at the emblem stitched in blue with white stars on his shoulder. She smiled brightly when he feigned a scowl.

"Alright then, Miss Piper…" Annette's brows lifted as she closed the door behind her. "And who are you?"

Brad was on his feet in a second, offering a hand. "Brad Vickers, Joan is at soundcheck. So, I…" His brows lifted when the blonde woman stepped around him and took a seat at the desk next to the exam table. "…Brought her for shots."

Annette smiled fondly to the girl, fingers looping in the air as she spoke in total silence to the girl.

Jenna's hands suddenly were animated, signing away a response to her doctor.

Brad sat down quietly, watching the two.

Birkin nodded, her stare turning back to the man. "Do you sign at all, Mister Vickers?"

"Still learnin'… What did she say?"

A nail scratched along one of her brows as she began to take down some notes. "She said you're her dad and you fly airplanes."

Soft brown eyes lifted up to the little one on the table. A smile drew itself across his mouth as she fiddled with the buttons on her coat.

A clean needle appeared when the cap was removed, quickly jabbed into a vial of clear liquid. The Umbrella symbol stenciled in red the only color to show.

Brows lifting, the man offered a hand to the young girl. Fingers gently gripping, his stare met her spooked one as Annette prepared.

"Just gonna be a little pinch, sweetie…"

He frowned when Jenna winced one eye totally shut.

"One more and we'll call it a day. Good girl. You're so brave," Annette cooed, a Barbie sticker soon in Jenna's hands. Her stare turned to Brad. "Tell her mother she's due for one last booster in six weeks and I'll get the referral she needs in the mail tomorrow."

Brad nodded, pulling his coat back on. "I'll let her know."

They were almost out of the exam room when Annette called out. "Have you gotten your flu shot yet this year, Mister Vickers?"

Brad's eyes went wide.

Back in the room.

Jenna looked from her new sticker still on its sheet up to the man sitting on the exam table.

Brad just pursed his lips, letting his air out when Annette returned with the vaccine.

"Alright, your turn."

Jenna offered her tiny hand to hold onto.

Annette couldn't hide her chuckle at the pair.

Jenna was still smiling at her two bright pink stickers when they arrived back home.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Scooter, it's Dad. It's about six-forty in the mornin'. Your brother just got in. I am assuming you and Brad went home and just crashed out. Please call me back, I don't think Jenna needs to go back to school today. The girls are here. How about I just call the school at eight and she play hooky so she can see her cousins? I heard helicopters flying earlier. What in the world happened last night? Call me, girl. Bye!"

The phone clicked back on the receiver as Jack turned away. "I swear that girl gives me more gray hair every day. Lookin' for the coffee, Son?"

Henry shook his head as he opened another cabinet. "Creamer?"

"It's in the pantry." Fingers running over thinning hair, Jack forced a smile as his daughter-in-law stepped around the corner. "Hey stranger, been a while." His arms opened as the curly haired blonde wrapped hers around him. "Mmmm! I missed you two. How's Seattle?"

"Cold, wet… I love it up there." Michelle replied, smiling as two little bodies pushed their way between her and their grandpa. "Girls, take your bags upstairs before harassing your grandpa." Their whines only made her smile wider. "We're going fishing later, hurry up!"

"Yeah, girls… Jenna is up there so keep it down, okay?" Jack let out a sigh as the two were out of sight. "It ain't like Joan to not answer me. Somethings off."

"Who knows, Dad. Scooter isn't the sharpest tool in the shed all the time," Henry said with a shrug, stirring dried creamer into his coffee.

"They might have realized they were baby free for a night and decided to start making the next one," Michelle replied, a wry grin on her face as her brows popped.

Henry feigned a gag. "Gross."

Jack let out a sigh. "For once in my life, I hope that's the case. Maybe I'll have a grandson next year and we'll all have a laugh at this."

Both smiled at the man seated at the kitchen table.

A bright flash suddenly filled all of the windows, and a minute later the entire house violently shook.

Henry slammed the car door behind him, ball cap fished from the back of his belt and slung low over his eyes as he strode in the direction of the red tinted sky. "Stay in the car, Dad. I got this."

"You sure?"

"It's fine. Stay in the car. I'll find out what's going on." So much screaming, so many people bumping into him as they fled down the narrow paths between cars. It was total chaos.

What the fuck is going on?

He managed to make his way toward the crowd gathered at the roadblocks. He hung back, eyes veering over the many armed forms behind the barriers.

"My husband is still in the city! When will we be let in?"

"I have to get home!"

"What was that explosion? Was that a missile?"

Ducking through the crowd, he made his way toward the end of the barrier. Green eyes clicked their stare from one body to another. From the guy smoking, to another checking his gear, his eyes narrowed as he frowned.

He was fastening his seatbelt as soon as the door to the car was shut. "Drive, Dad. We gotta go."

"What about Joan?"

"Dad, just drive. Let's get out of here before we're pinned in. You're clear still." He took a look over his shoulder to the rear window.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"Just get the car turned around! C'mon, Dad." He let out a sigh as the wheel cranked and the car was thrown into drive. "You're right, something is really wrong."

"What? What are you talkin' about?"

"None of those guys have flags on their shoulders. No unit patches. Nothin'. No name tape, no Army over their hearts. One guy had a grenade launcher out and was smoking."

"What does that mean, Henry?"

The pilot just shook his head. "I don't know. They're not Army though, Dad. They want us to think they are though..."

Jack looked frantic behind the wheel. "Maybe we should check the other roads going in? We have to be able to get in somewhere."

Henry shook his head. "No, no. The reporter back there said the city had been hit with a missiles."

"What? Oh my God…"

The raven haired man choked back tears, blinking them away as the car swerved. "Let me drive, Dad."

"He hasn't been home much since the riots began," Joan said quietly. Wrapped up in a housecoat, she coughed harshly into her elbow. "I uh… I don't know what to tell you, Jill. We don't talk anymore. He's hellbent on keeping his job. I don't think he understands how close I am to leaving him."

"I'm sorry things are rough," Jill replied, the coffee in her cup cold when she took a sip.

"If Forest where here…." The woman bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "God, ever since they were killed it's like he died with them. You know? He's not soft and gentle anymore. He's just… he's just dead but walking around."

Jill grimaced at the thought. "I don't really need to talk to Brad. I wanted to ask you about when you worked for Umbrella. What did you do for them?"

"I uh… I was told I was guarding these massive coolers full of vaccines that required being at a low temperature at all times. Then, well before he died, Albert sent me a disc with instructions to look at it if anything happened to him." She wiped at her eyes, red and swollen. "Those monsters you told us about? I was guarding something like them. He had manifests and notes that said exactly what was in the coolers. There were pictures…" Her thumbs brushed over the side of her mug.

Jill's eyes were enormous.

Her voice was flat, emptied out and hollow. "Did you know most of those things used to be human? They were humans and I helped them take those poor people… Jesus Christ…" She couldn't help but weep, a dish towel used to wipe it all away.

"Joan do you still have the disc?"

The woman nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah you can have it."

"It's going to be fine. The military is outside of the city. Help is here, Joan."

"That's bullshit and you know it! We're locked down. There's a curfew, there are more reports of people being attacked. I heard it on the radio!"

"Just drunks, Joan."

"No Brad! We both know that's not what's happening. We should have left town already."

Anger finally beat down the last wall he had, and it would be taken out on her. "If you want to leave, go ahead! I'm not going. My life is here. I might be able to sleep at home for once instead of at my fuckin' desk! I'm tired of this bullshit, Joan!"

"It's all bullshit, huh? Our friends are dead, Brad! They're all dead! That's not bullshit," her voice wavered. "I can't believe you sided with the prick who not only canned me, but is trying to lie about how all of your friends died!"

"It's your own fucking fault you got canned! If you hadn't been such a fuckin' idiot you'd still have a decent job!"

Her eyes were enormous at that, shoulders then squared… then predatory. A panther in the brush, she looked ready to rip him apart.

He looked ready to make a mistake as soon as she did.

The moment passed.

Joan took what dignity she still had and left.

A hand went to the pocket on his vest.

The ring went back on Joan's hand.

He couldn't bear the idea of another hand having it.

He locked the doors and made his way out the back. The alley was empty.

Uptown was the next stop. He was getting the fuck out of town by the end of the night.

She hadn't asked him to be brave.

She had asked him to survive.

#tw sucidal ideation #death tw

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jockbots · 3 years

Text

shit in my head abt scorbus:

time travel shenanigans are a life time and not a oje stop shop. they have a notebook like in time travelers wife as to detail anything they can and cant due at a certain period of time if they meet one another.

insert Scorpius asking a young barly 18 Albus if he's "Friends with Bathilda" and doing the lil limp wrist thing to see if he'll A) Get a laugh out of him and then Albus will grab Younger Scorpius' hand, or B) just go wide eyed panic mode like he's going to either star a fight or jump out of a window.

Albus has Ginny's brown eyes. He got Harry's hair. Lu and Jamie got fucking lucky okay they got Ginny's easy wavy auburn, Harry's bright green eyes and a dusting of delicate freckles. Albus got the other trillion freckles, moles and two beauty spots on his cheek and he hates it but its fucking gorgeous.

Scorpius is a blood healing specialist and goes from being a grave shift nurse at St. Mungos to a part time specialist Doctor/Reasecher in his later years.

Albus doesn't really settle to one preffetion. He works for his uncle Ron in the joke shop. He tries to take himself seriously and works for gringots for a little bit. Works the lobgest in a broomstick making factory. What kicks off his writting career is actually the fact that Lily sends in one of the many stories he writes for the kiddos in their extended family. Children's tales on epic adventures, sticking it to their parents and making cool friends. And that's how he ends up becoming a writter.

They have ridiculous nicknames. Very English, nonsensical nicknames. Scorpius is sometimes affectionately called Mr Bagshot, Minty, Touch (a reference to jack frost from a touch of frost bc they r stupid and simply referencing jack frost would b too basic and bc these kids dont sleep and watch old crimes shpes together) Greenie, and Treacle.

Albus is in turn called by Scorpius: Pots, Curly, Tross (bc one time they got tipsy off alcopops and watched a documentary abt birds and Albus compared himself to an albatross and Scorpius was like not true but great nickname tho Albustross) Darling (no homo & full homo) and occasional Dark Lord of Light bulbs.

After their forth year the other students refer to them as The Time Turners

#scorbus #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #hp #cursed child #hpcc #also Scorpius loves the colour pink fight me

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chappedandfadedvds · 3 years

Text

Dec 23rd, Wednesday 17:45

„Tell them, I said hi.“

„It is really nice, you have no idea. I’ll send you pictures later.“

„Tell them, I said hi, Jens.“

„Shh.“ He huffed a laugh under his breath, trying to keep his voice steady as he was under the brazen attack of fingers poking his side, in a quest to tickle the poor older boy talking on the phone. „Sorry, we need to go, We are watching a film..mhm...uh...absolutely.“

„Jens.“ His boyfriend whined, having listened in on the whole conversation, when Jens had left the group to pick up his mom’s call. She had texted him a little time ahead, to not have her son get overly worried about her name lighting up on his screen. He was very thankful for the consideration on his mother’s part, as he surely would have suffered a small stroke form an unannounced call. But like this it had been very pleasent to catch up and hear his mom’s voice be drowned out by Lotte screaming at them in the background. Apparently all was well.

„Oh and Lucas misses and loves you very dearly, from the bottom of his heart, I’m ordered to tell you.“

„I said to tell them hi. What the hell?“

Lucas was giggling into the hoodie of Jens, as he buried his face in his chest. Jens just grinned down at the curls of hair that he went to rest his chin on. He smiled at the flustered boy, it probably looked quite cheesy from the outside. But the comfortably felicity that rushed through his vains, made him not care for anything other than the happiness of the people closest to him.

Oh lord, he was in deep, wasn’t he? Someone punch him, right now.

„My mom says, that they love and miss you as well. I think they like you more than me.“ Jens added in jest to the iteration of his mother’s words. ‘Oh for sure’, was the audacious comment he recieved in turn from the woman at the other end, leaving Jens to gape at his screen, when he quickly pulled it back to check if the caller hadn’t changed. The betrayal, Jens thought amused as he answered, with a feigned pout on his lips. „What, no mom, I’m your favourite.“

The laugh was addictive that echoed from the speaker by his ear. He couldn’t not chime back at her just as cheerfully. „Alright, talk to you soon. I promise! Love you too.“

He hung up and lowered the phone to his side, to let it slip into his sweats’s pocket, before he also slung the second arm around his boyfriend bodies to squeeze him tightly. Even against the yelping complaints, that only doubled, when he briefly lifted the boy off the ground in an attempt to carry him back towards the living room. But as Lucas just wouldn’t stop wiggling in his arms, he let him down three wobbling steps in.

„You are an idiot.“ Lucas grinned, his laugh stifled by Jens leaning in to kiss him into silence.

„Can someone get the remote?“ Luca shouted from the corner of the sofa enwrapped in a blanket that hid all but her face away. It was a challenge to still be able to find some space inbetween the group waiting for the two boys to join. Jens let go of the younger boy, his eyes darting towards the tv, where the remote rested just infront of it on the floor. Picking it up, he threw it over, gently enough that it wouldn’t hurt if it accidently hit.some unlucky soul. To his surprise though Luca catched it with ease, blowing him a thankful kiss in return.

„Why are we watching ‘Rise of the guardians’ again?“

Lucas took the place next to Jens on the floor, that was barely visible under the wild mix of blankets and pillows, all stolen from every room to create one ginormous cushion. All of them scatered across the makeshift bed. It was quite cosy to snuggle up with everyone else infront of the tv next to the burning fireplace.

„It’s tradition.“ Robbe quickly explained, smirking up from where his head rested on his boyfriend’s chest next to Jens on the floor. „It also stars Sander.“

„What?“

„The main character, jack frost, was a brown haired boy before it turned white. Sander also dressed up as Sinterklaas. So yeah. Ignore them.“ Jens explained, dodging Sander’s elbow that was about to dig into him.

They had watched this movie last year at the flatshare. It was the main cause for everyone’s excitment to watch it, when Aaron had suggested it over breakfast. Today had been an especially snowy day, the freezing east-wind blowing vigorous, enough to keep everyone huddled up inside. It wasn’t storming per se, but it was close.

Thus the perfect day to enjoy one film after the other. They already had watched ‘Home alone’ and ‘Die Hard’ for all the different reasons that didn’t matter. And now, after a break to prepare a new round of tea and have plates refilled with chocolates and cookies, they turned on the next film. Rise of the Guardians.

„I’m already sold.“ Lucas joked, winking over Jens’ head at Sander, flipping him off through a joyful chuckle. He felt the younger boy leaning into his side, the head just pressed against his side by side. He unwrapped one of the small chocolate angles, letting it melt on his tounge, as his eyes watched the film’s opening. The wind almost no longer audible, as the music dwelled up and was all that filled the dim lit room.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 9 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #christmas week #doesn't unfortunately fit the theme magic #but oh well #skamholidayevent

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

Photo

SURPRISE BITCH I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW THE LAST OF SAPPHIC JACKUNZEL

ABSOLUTELY NOT

FEM!JACK AND LESBIAN RAPUNZEL MY BELOVED

Anyways I was absolutely obligated by law to make a sequel to this at some point! I was wondering what kind of ballgown fem!Jack would wear to a fancy party or some other special event, and then this happened. Rapunzel wears lavendar/lilac when she dresses up nicely, of course!

***

“Come on, Jaina! You can come out now.”

“No!” An annoyed voice drifted out from behind the floral-painted changing board. “I just look so...so glitzy. I can’t deal with this.”

Rapunzel sighed deeply, leaning against the wall and running her fingers through the lavender chiffron of her skirt. “This whole thing was your idea. Don’t back out on me now.”

Jaina must have thought Rapunzel was blind if she didn’t think Rapunzel noticed the way the white-haired girl had always paused at the door to the closet, staring longingly at Rapunzel’s collection of dresses. They weren’t anything particularly special--mostly just casual wear, with a few nicer gowns that she had gotten as past birthday gifts. Nonetheless, Jaina looked at the bright, rippling waves of pink, green, purple, and blue like they were an especially tantalizing chocolate cake.

Rapunzel supposed it made sense that Jaina was drawn to them, since her normal look was not exactly the most colorful. Every time Rapunzel saw her, she had on the same plain brown dress, wrapped around the middle and the bottom of the skirt with dark red bands. She had a cape that she wore with it--one that she never failed to wave wildly about when she was being excessively dramatic, but was nonetheless equally brown. The most color she ever added to it was a dark blue sweatshirt she wore over her dress from time to time, although even that was fairly modest.

Still, it had come as a surprise when they’d been lying on Rapunzel’s bed, deciding on a lunch recipe, and Jaina had made her suggestion apropros to nothing.

“We should play dress-up with your nice clothes sometime. You know, just for the hell of it. It’s not like you’ll actually be needing any of that stuff for castle balls, so we might as well.”

And here Jaina was now, inexplicably nervous about Rapunzel seeing her in the fancy outfit she had requested to wear.

“Come on, Jai,” Rapunzel said, her voice softening. “I’m sure you look wonderful.”

“No, I’m--it’s weird! I don’t know!” Jaina’s voice cracked slightly, showing the first trace of fear. “I’m not supposed to look glamorous. I’m a little shit.”

Rapunzel shook her head. “You are not a little shit. No matter how much you try to be.”

“Hey! Take that back!”

Rapunzel giggled. “Well, the Jaina Frost I know would never be so much of a coward that she can’t handle her best friend seeing her in a different outfit.”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming out.”

As soon as Jaina stepped into the light, Rapunzel had to remember how to breathe.

Her skirt, billowing around her like the stream of a fountain, was a deep blue--like the very last glimmer of twilight before giving way to inky black. Silver-white glitter was dusted across the dark folds, glinting like stars. It trailed up to wrap the bodice completely, making Jaina look like she’d been dipped in moonlight.

Her hair was no surprise--Rapunzel had helped her to do it earlier. Rapunzel had weaved the braid crown now trailing over the tops of Jaina’s ears, and curled it into a rippling bun hanging from the back of her head. The braids were secured in place by a delicate line of silvery ice leaves--a little adornment Jaina had added for flare.

Nevertheless, seeing it together with the dress...

Jaina was gleaming, brighter than any of the lanterns Rapunzel had ever seen on her birthday. Brighter than the moon itself.

For a long moment, Rapunzel couldn’t speak.

“Do I look that stupid?” Rapunzel snapped out of her stupor at the sound of Jaina’s mumble. Her friend was looking anywhere but at her, cheeks slowly deepening to a bright pink.

“No, no!” Rapunzel shook her head rapidly, lifting her hands to try and reassure her friend. “You look--I just--I wasn’t ready for it. You look really beautiful, Jaina.”

“You think so?” Jaina’s voice slipped into uncharacteristic timidness--a timidness Rapunzel hasn’t heard since she kissed Jaina for the first time.

They had exchanged a few kisses since. They'd both been certain they liked it, and they hadn’t seen any reason not to try again. Every time, Rapunzel’s stomach felt like it was zipping around at great speeds, and she often wondered if she’d find herself floating up into the air like Jaina could.

Still, they had never talked about what it actually meant. Jaina had never brought up the topic, and Rapunzel had never asked.

She supposed some part of her was terrified to find out. Some part of her was terrified delving too deep into this would drive a stake into the only (human) friendship she’d ever had.

Rapunzel’s smile widened. “I know so.”

“It’s just...” Jaina bit her lip. “When I rose out of the ice, I wasn’t wearing--well, I wasn’t wearing anything like this. I don’t really know who I was before I was Jaina Frost--or if I was ever even technically human--but if I was, I sure as hell don’t think I was one of the fancy, well-off ones. I guess it just feels...wrong to wear stuff like this. Like I don’t belong in it.”

“I can’t see how,” Rapunzel argued. “You pull it off spectacularly. If anyone was made for that dress, it’s you.”

“I don’t know.” Jaina’s eyes darted around uncertainly. “It just feels like I don’t deserve to wear something this nice. Like I’m breaking some unspoken elegant clothing rule.”

“Well, you’ve never been above a little mischief.” Rapunzel smirked. “Seems like that would be right up your alley.”

“Yeah. Actually.” Jaina broke into a smirk of her own. “Maybe you’re right.”

She whooped and spun around, skirt fanning out like waves of night sky. Rapunzel felt her chest start to rise up like a drifting bubble.

Jaina really was far cuter than she had any right to be, and it frustrated Rapunzel to no end. It set all manner of emotions loose in her, many of them unbearably confusing.

“Yeah!” Jaina crowed, pumping her fist in the air. “The world is not ready for how fancy I am!”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no they aren’t!”

“For the record, though...” Jaina turned back to her, smile growing a little more shy. “I still think you look better.”

Rapunzel’s hand strayed to her hair, sprigs of wildflowers Jaina had picked sticking out of the loose braid. “Thank you. Although credit where credit is due--the flowers were your idea.”

Jaina giggled. Evening sunlight streamed in through the open window, washing the little circular room in extravagant gold. Lit from the back, Jaina’s hair glowed softly, making her look like some kind of ethereal princess.

Struck with a sudden idea, Rapunzel smiled and strode forward, extending a hand.

“Excuse me, beautiful lady. May I have this dance?”

Jaina spluttered, suddenly unable to form a complete sentence. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink to rival some of Rapunzel’s best dresses. “Huh, wh--wha--”

“Wait, wait! I know how to make it even better!”

Without waiting for Jaina to collect herself, Rapunzel rushed over to her dresser. She grabbed the enormous flower vase in the center (Mother had picked her an especially extravagant collection and brought them as a gift the other day) and quickly sifted through it, grabbing out several and gathering them into a bunch.

She sauntered over to Jaina, holding out the bundle. Petals drifted to the floor behind her, snowy white and deep blue rimmed with cyan.

“For you, fair maiden.”

Jaina blinked. “You matched my dress,” she said stupidly. “And my hair.”

Rapunzel smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to match mine. Mother didn’t bring me as many daffodils as she usually does.”

Jaina stared at the flowers, expression unreadable. Something inside Rapunzel wilted.

“Do you--do you not want them? I mean, you don’t have to--”

Without warning, Jaina snatched the bouquet away, glowering at her. Apparently, she had been very concerned Rapunzel was about to change her mind.

Jaina leaned down, slowly inhaling and taking a long whiff of the faint floral scent. Suddenly she flung her arms into the air, sending the flowers careening up the the ceiling and floating down in a lazy, drifting rain.

Rapunzel glanced up at the scattering bouquet, and then back at Jaina. “What--”

“I was just setting the mood.” Jaina smirked. “Of course I’ll dance with you, idiot.”

Beaming, Rapunzel held out a hand again. Jaina slid her own on top of it, and they sauntered to the top of the stairwell with petals fluttering down all around them.

As they reached the small landing, Rapunzel felt her eyes dart to Jaina’s. Her friend’s eyes had slipped shut, lips curled up in a soft, tranquil smile.

Another idea seizing her, Rapunzel let her hand drift off of Jaina’s. She reached down, slipping one hand onto Jaina’s thigh and the other onto her lower back and scooping her up like a bride.

“Wh--RAE!” Jaina spluttered, legs dangling helplessly over Rapunzel’s arm and cheeks turning redder than some of Mother’s best gowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sweeping you off your feet!” Rapunzel beamed proudly. “You know, like the knights do in the stories?”

“Put me down!” Jaina huffed. “I’m not a damsel in distress!”

“Very well, if you don’t want to get a free ride down the stairs.”

As Rapunzel started to lower Jaina to the ground, she felt a hand swat her stomach.

“No, don’t actually! I’m just not used to being pampered. I usually have to take care of myself.”

Rapunzel looked down at the girl resting in her arms, and her heart suddenly broke.

Maybe this was the first time someone had been this soft with Jaina in over a century. Or three.

“I could take card of you, you know,” Rapunzel said softly. “If you let me.”

In response, Jaina rested her head against Rapunzel’s side and laid a timid hand on Rapunzel’s chest. “How are you even able to do this, anyways?” she grumbled.

Rapunzel giggled. “Pulling your mother up the side of an 80-foot tower every day for over 10 years doesn’t exactly leave you with weak arms.”

Jaina smiled weakly up at her. “Good point.”

“Can I--can I carry you down the stairwell?” It was almost embarrassing, how much eagerness Rapunzel felt creeping into her voice. “Like I see the princes do with the princesses in the pictures in my books?”

“Ew!” Jaina snorted. “Like I’d want some snobby king-to-be anywhere near me.”

“I know, but I don’t think you have to be a prince to do it,” Rapunzel retorted, voice rising into a slight whine. “Come on! They always look so happy in the pictures. I thought maybe we could be happy like that, too.”

Jaina pressed the back of a hand to her forehead and let out a dramatic sigh. “Very well. If you must.”

Jaina Frost wasn’t heavy--she was as light as winter wind, even with Rapunzel having to balance her way down the stairs. From the way she was nestled into Rapunzel’s chest when they reached the bottom, the blonde concluded that Jaina couldn’t have minded too much to be carried like a delicate princess--even if Jaina’s cheeks were now more scarlet-tinted than Rapunzel had ever seen them.

“Now, I know it’s tempting, but don’t fall asleep here,” Rapunzel teased. “We still need to dance.”

Jaina grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. As much as I am enjoying these big, strong arms of yours.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t seen the last of them.”

“Wait, hold on, Rae. Let me add a finishing touch.”

Jaina lifted a hand and a blue-white beam shot out, zipping toward the tower roof. It hit the ceiling with a small crack, and a gleaming white chandelier sprung from the boards. Rapunzel watched in wonder as thin rings of ice grew down in concentric circles, rimmed in dangling white bulbs and curved icicles.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

Jaina beamed proudly. “No castle ball’s complete without an over-the-top ceiling light, right? Now we’re ready to go.”

Rapunzel started to lower her arms, and Jaina leaped out of them like a spring hare. Her dress swirled around her as she turned to face Rapunzel, this time being the one to extend her hand.

“May I have this dance, Princess Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel laughed, and took Jaina Frost’s hand. “You flatter me too much. But yes.”

They took the floor, and they moved like liquid. Jaina took the lead, surprisingly confident for someone who had been blushing up a storm mere minutes ago. For anyone watching, it would have been impossible to tell that for countless decades, Jaina’s only dance partner had undoubtedly been herself. She spun and twirled and twisted and leaped, and at first Rapunzel felt herself breathing hard as she tried to keep up. At one point, Jaina even grabbed a rose from a vase on the windowsill, frosting it over before tossing it up to hold in her teeth. (Rapunzel seriously doubted the move was meant for anything other than showing off, but she didn’t mind.) It didn’t last long--during one particularly long twirl a few minutes later, Jaina snatched the rose from her mouth and flung it out the window in only the most overdramatic sweep of her arm.

It didn’t take long for Rapunzel to get the hang of the movements, though. In barely any time she was spinning around as fast as Jaina, weaving about the room with similar grace. They joined hands and let go again, pulling together and apart only in rhythm to a soft tune Rapunzel hummed. From time to time, Jaina stopped to twirl Rapunzel under her arm. Rapunzel, in a few moments of daring, dipped Jaina steeply toward the ground before pulling her up again at the last second.

For a long while, the dance was bouncy and energetic, rippling across the floor lit by nothing but the gleam of dying sunlight off of Jaina’s chandelier and the soft glow of summer fireflies drifting through the window. It could only be so long before the girls’ feet grew tired, though, and the tempo slowed down until they were just holding each other and gradually swaying from side to side.

There was moonlight in Jaina’s smile, and her eyes were softer than Rapunzel had ever seen them. When she spoke, Rapunzel was entirely unprepared for it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Rapunzel didn’t stop dancing. She couldn’t, too caught up in the rhythm of their movements. Still, she was sure her eyes flew open wide enough to rival those of her bulging-eyed chameleon companion.

It was a strange thing to suddenly (and dramatically) declare. Rapunzel wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Well, of course we love each other,” Rapunzel said. “We’re friends.”

“No, I mean...” Jaina sighed. “I’m in love with you like the fairy tales. Like the princes who carry the princesses down the stairs. Like the big, elaborate royal weddings with 16-layer cakes. I’m in love with you like...I’d marry you, if I could. If you wanted to.”

The words enveloped Rapunzel like a snowstorm.

She was silent for several moments, trying to sort out her racing thoughts. Jaina loved her. Jaina loved her.

So that’s what all the kisses meant.

“Mother says girls don’t marry girls,” was all Rapunzel managed to get out. “I asked her about it when I was 10.”

“I know they don’t.” Jaina’s voice hardened. “I don’t care.”

“But will it--” Rapunzel’s voice broke, sudden anxiety gripping her. “Will things have to change? Will we not be able to be friends like we used to be?”

Jaina smiled, seeming to relax a little. “Nothing’s going to change, except that I’m giving you the opportunity to kiss me more frequently, if you’re interested. And we don’t have to be weird about it when we do.”

Rapunzel looked over Jaina. The snowy hair. The crystalline dress. The sparkling, mischievous eyes. The skip in her step and the lightness of her laugh. The energy that followed her when she zipped around Rapunzel’s room and painted tapestries of snowflakes in her wake. The way she stumbled through Rapunzel’s bedroom window with her arms overloaded with books, all on Rapunzel’s favorite topics. The way she’d practically shout “You’ll never be bored again!” while chucking the entire pile at Rapunzel.

The way she made Rapunzel feel like she had everything she could possibly want without even setting one foot out of her tower.

Rapunzel smiled, because now that she thought of it, there was no other possible way she could have imagined this going. It was clear as the stars on Jaina’s skirt, and everything clicked into place at once.

“I’m in love with you too,” she murmured.

Rapunzel pulled Jaina in, and kissed her slowly in the blinking shimmer of fireflies.

***

They sat on the windowsill well into the night--legs brushing, hands interlaced, Rapunzel’s head coming to rest on Jaina’s shoulder. The fireflies, still flitting about the summer evening, were backlit only by the faint light of a rising moon. Rapunzel gazed off into the dark treetops, sighing.

“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “I wish I could see them closer up. The fireflies, the trees, the lanterns...everything.”

“You know I’d take you if you wanted,” Jaina reminded her. “I’m always up for a little jaunt. And honestly, the whole world’s out there waiting for you. Seems like kind of a waste to hide from it in here, especially when I’m sure you’d love it.”

“I know. But Mother--”

“--doesn’t have to know,” Jaina finished. “Didn’t she go to some neighboring kingdom for that one special kind of perfume, anyways? You told me she won’t be back for a couple days.”

“Right. But...” Rapunzel bit her lip. “It’s dangerous outside.”

“Anyone gives you trouble, I can just fly us away. Remember?”

Jaina pulled away, leaving Rapunzel looking after her with a pout. She stood up, delicately stepping off of the windowsill and into the open air. Smirking, she turned and offered Rapunzel a hand.

“Ruffians and thus are very unlikely to have means of following us into the sky, you know. Care for an adventure?”

Rapunzel looked away. “I don’t know. I love so many things here. I mean, this is my home, I can’t just--”

Jaina snorted. “Come on, you don’t seriously think we can roam around in these fancy clothes forever, do you? We’re going to have to come back at some point to change. I’m not kidnapping you.”

Rapunzel stood up, eyeing Jaina’s outstretched fingers. “I guess not.”

She had to admit, she was tempted.

“Home will still be there when you want to come back to it,” Jaina said. “But there’s a whole world out there to see, too. And I want to show you everything.”

Rapunzel smiled, and finally took Jaina’s hand. “You have me back by noon tomorrow, or I’m never letting you wear my dresses again.”

“Deal.”

They were lost to the night, and the tower was left empty.

***

Since Jack/Jaina was clearly on the poorer side as a human, I HC Jaina (and by extension Jack too lol) as being a bit (initially) uncomfortable with putting on formalwear, if only because her subconscious is kinda going “Is this allowed??? IS THIS ALLOWED???”

It was actually kinda hard thinking of a fancy dress with icy/winterey vibes that hasn’t already been claimed by Elsa’s outfit lineup D: GOD DAMN IT ELSA YOU DON’T GET A COPYRIGHT ON ICE DRESSES

Rapunzel and any iteration of Jack Frost bonding over how much they love to dance is just something that can be so personal ;____; I mean, Jack spent the intro to his movie spinning and leaping all over the place, and Rapunzel started a huge-ass dance in a town square, so like...am I wrong??? THESE FUCKERS LIKE DANCING

I feel like since Rapunzel grew up so sheltered, she’d be pretty naive when it came to differentiating between different types of love. Like someone tells her they love her romantically and she’s like “well of course we love each other!! We’re friends!!!” and...it takes a bit for her to realize that romantic love is a whole different Vibe sometimes XD The fact that girls romantically loving other girls is most likely not commonplace in 18wheneverthefuckTangledtakesplace definitely doES NOT HELP lol

Pic credits available upon request!

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts. Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

They say she saw It first.

They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

They say she felt no fear.

A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake.

Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

“Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing.

She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

“Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

“From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

“Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it.

Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game.

After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

“Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

“Yes.”

Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

"Who are you?"

"Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

Big eyes full and empty.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

She said nothing to that.

“Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable.

The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

“You’ll know.”

Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home.

Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

This girl she ignored was all she had left.

“Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

“You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss.

She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

Down.

Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples.

A gloved hand curled into hers.

“Am I dead?” She asked.

“Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

“Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

“Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

"Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

“I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin.

She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

Existed together in one space.

Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

“Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

“Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

Except love, she thought. Except desire.

Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

“Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

It was a soft prayer.

He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart.

A squelch.

Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions.

A scar thickened.

Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue.

A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

“Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

“Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

“We were built to last forever.”

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise imagine #mine #writing

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voldemorthatesnose96 · 4 years

Text

FORELSKET

(Adj.) the euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love

The first chapter of five! Enjoy❤️❤️❤️

Sander is confused.

Not five minutes ago, he swears Robbe’s here but now his figure is nowhere to be seen.

“Where did he go?” Sander mumbles as hus eyes scanning the crowd. Ignoring the calls from his other ‘friends’, Sander hurries his way out of the house. The night air feels a little chilly now, means that autumn is almost here—he can almost smell it. The sound of the neighbour’s pet bird chirping in his ears. Somehow the bird—Mario—always chirps everytime he sees Sander.

Even after walking through a few blocks from his house, he still can’t find Robbe. With a mind that starts to panic, Sander accelerates his way along a one-way street flanks by houses.

The last place that crosses between his panic is a small grassy field located at the end of the residential street.

“Maybe he’s there.” He thought hopefully.

Sure enough, Sander finally find Robbe sit on a grass with his back facing the street. His silhouette is clearly display on the ground from the street lights. Sander exhales in relief as he approaches him.

“Hey! Why did you disappear from my house?” Sander demands from behind the shorter boy.

Robbe is genuinely shocks and turns around.

“Why are you here?”

The taller with bleached hair sits next to him. His lips pouts.

“Because I’m worried about you, obviously!”

Robbe’s tongue is locked whenever Sander says something like this. Even though, it isn’t the first time but his heart never stops beating fast whenever it happens. He puts one hand inside of the brown jacket’s pocket; where there’s a small gift for the birthday person beside him.

“Why were you running away?”

“Forgive me.”

“Your answer is irrelevant,” Sander replies. His face isn’t angry but his tone serious, but somehow can manages to sound cheerful at the same time. “Spit it out!” Sander adds when Robbe goes silent again.

“It’s still my birthday, Robbe,” Sander demands. “And you HAVE to obey.”

Robbe finally gives up and chuckles when he sees Sander’s pouting lips. So, he reluctantly pulls a small glass jar which fills with mini sugar cookies from his jacket.

“This is your present. Happy birthday, Sander Driesen.” Robbe says softly as he gives the jar to Sander. He doesn’t even dare to look at the real-life Jack Frost—not sure if it’s because of fear, worry or shyness. Robbe truly hope that his fingers aren’t shaking.

For a second or more, Sander’s only able to stares alternately between Robbe and the jar. Then when he’s finally comes back to reality, he accepts the present. Sander feels Robbe’s hand trembles slightly.

“Cutie.” He thought.

“Thank you.” Sander whispers, still too stunned to say more.

Robbe nods.

“Is it because of this?” Sander asks as he lifts his small present and looks into Robbe’s child-like eyes.

For a solid moment, Robbe forgots how to breathe. These mesmerizing green eyes of Sander has always reminds him of the Aurora Borealis he loves so much. Fortunately, he still have some sanity left, so he nods again. He should’ve known better that Sander’s friends could give way more expensive and better birthday presents than his; something Robbe can never buy even after saving some money for a long time.

“You shouldn’t have ran away.” Sander murmurs.

“I’m really sorry,” Robbe says regretfully. “I was just—“

“Ashamed?”

“Jawel...”

“You shouldn’t. Everyone knows that I’ll feel uneasy whenever you’re not around.”

“They give you the best presents, Sander,” Robbe says with a resent smile. “And the only thing I gave you was this,” Robbe gestures to the cookie jar in Sander’s lap. “Simple and unimportant homemade cookies which I’m sure taste bad compared the ones at your house.”

Robbe forces a laugh which only greets by a piercing stare from Sander; he immediately goes silent under the stares.

“Dammit! How could he do that?!” Robbe thought.

Sander sighs, “tomorrow morning, I’ll ask my household servants to take home all of the presents from tonight or throw them in the trash—I don’t give a shit about them anyway,” Sander adds before Robbe is about to protest. “They’re not my real friends. They only came because my parents owns a big company. Their presence means nothing. Never have, never will be.”

Robbe lightly punches Sander’s arm.

“But at least you should appreciate their efforts, y’know.”

Sander grimaces like he just saw something disgusting, “the money they spent wasn’t their own hardwork. Therefore, those things aren’t considered by me.”

Robbe feels there’s no point of discussing about this matter any further. Because if Sander already made a decision, even God cannot be able to change it.

“After all,” Sander continues after a long pause while looking at Robbe intensely. “I only appreciate someone else’s good intention based on their own effort.”

Robbe’s cheeks all warms up and rapidly spreads to his neck. Sander notices and smiles broadly.

“The shape’s good,” he lifts the jar and examines the cookies inside. “You’re the only person in the world who knew that I love sugar cookies. Even though I only told you once.”

Hearing this, Robbe can’t help but chuckles.

“How can I forget? Your lockscreen is always the star-shaped sugar cookie!”

“Eh, you’re right.”

They laugh for a while.

“Robbe?”

“Hm?”

Sander isn’t sure what to say this time. His brain give various topic to talk about but his lips remain silent; as if what’s being thought isn’t something interesting to speak of. It’s just that... just by calling Robbe’s name can make him feels good inside. How’s that even possible? So strange.

“You should go home.” Robbe mutters under his breath, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. “They must be looking for you?”

“Wie?” Sander rolls his eyes. “I told you I don’t give a shit, right? In fact, I’d rather lie here with you until morning.”

Robbe says nothing but flashes a thin smile.

“C’mon. Eat these cookies with me!”

“I can’t do that!” Robbe says, surprised. “That’s yours!”

“You’re not allowed if I’m not allowing it. Now shut up and eat with me!”

“How very sweet of you,” Robbe says sarcastically, but still do what he’s been told, while the bleached-hair guy grins in satisfaction.

They eat the first cookie. Sander’s reaction is immediately apparent after only a half-bite.

“Damn! This is fucking delicious!”

Robbe’s eyes widen happily, “you’re not lying?”

“Why would I?” Sander replies, munching his third cookie. “And also, you just make my night even more exciting now. Thanks, Robbe!”

“Anytime.” Robbe softly says. Now he’s brave enough to look Sander in the eyes.

Sander stops eating his cookie and says in the most serious tone, “promise me that you’ll never run away again. No matter what happen.”

Robbe nods wholeheartedly, “I promise.”

Sander’s lips turns upward. His smile looks very radiant and pure and feels like Robbe’s heart has stop beating for a moment when Sander says, “and I also promise you. Altijd.”

#wtfock #wtfam #fanfic #my edit

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