#ask-flip-frost

[muppeteyes1001]

📂 📂

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

(📂) 1. Kitt is unable to grow flowers. No matter how much she reads or how many techniques she tries, she just can't seem to do it. Even if she does manage to get flowers for herself, they tend to wither and die after a day or two. She may be skilled when it comes to mechanical repairs, but anything related to botany simply evades her.

(📂) 2. A drink that she enjoys on a cold day is called London Fog. It's simply earl grey tea with steamed milk and vanilla, which gives the tea a cloudy appearance.

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

*Throws all of the 50 Qs into your ask box and twirls away*

50 Q’s For The Mun

1.) describe yourself through the eyes of a stranger? The perpetual foreigner. Or, if they do happen to be from another country, a like-minded friend. (People say I have an accent .  .  . Spoiler, I don’t think I do.) People have said that I look interesting, am quiet, awkward, scary, and that i know a lot. 2.) what is a quality you’d like to change about yourself? I feel like I’m very flighty and have a hard time following through with what I say- if I can at all. I’d like to change that someday. 3.) what is your worst potential fear for the future? I think .  .  . That I’ll be caught between mildly depressing comfort and the chance to actually grasp everything I want in life for a little risk and I’ll make the wrong choice. 4.) which television series do you use as a form of escapism? I use YouTube for that primarily. Um .  .  . Maybe The Addam’s Family. 5.) share a secret about yourself? I think in some ways, I actually live a double-life. So that’s a thing. 6.) if you could choose any place in the world to visit, where would it be? why? Oh, I’d like to go to Germany someday and visit some of the sites associated with Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. He was an interesting person. 7.) what advice would you give your childhood self? Um .  .  . honestly? Be more of a jerk. It more has to do with having a hard time setting boundaries and saying no to things. Or calling people out when they’re acting inappropriately. Not great life advice though? 8.) describe how you envision your ideal life partner? I suppose someone I can connect with on an intellectual and emotional level. Someone understanding and compassionate enough to help me pull through my own problems and a team player when we have joint problems we need to solve in life. 9.) what is your favorite environmental season? why? I like when it snows in winter, but otherwise probably fall xD I do not love being out in the super freezing temperatures with no snow. 10.) what’s one book you’d suggest every person should read? Mathematics for the Million - Lancelot Hogben (That’s the one that talks about how when America reached the trillion dollar debt, that if you lined it all up in twenty dollar bills, it’d basically stretch for sixty miles .  .  . Honesty there’s a lot of books on this list. It’s not just one.) 11.) what is one song that’s able to bring you to tears? 1,000 Light Years Away - Slime Rancher 12.) describe your best friend? Kind, compassionate, smart, doing no harm but taking no shit from people, and just... incredibly driven, even in hard times. 13.) what was the premise of your last dream? Well .  .  . I was at my old job, and for some reason we were running pads (for furniture), but for some reason, instead of pads it was coming out as pants and shirts, long and wide ways. And who do I see but an old coworker / friend? So he was stacking, and it’s supposed to be twenty-one to a bag and they’re coming off three at a time pretty fast. So, since he’s never done that before I was like, out of my way, I’ll handle this. Of course the line starts moving really fast, and with the way it’s coming, you can’t just push it back and throw it in a nice stack. So we’re bagging stuff anyway, just trying to keep it off the floor and he’s like, “Hey, how many is it supposed to be in a bag?” And I told him, “Twenty-one.” “Some of these bags don’t have twenty one in them.” We were doing shit like putting five things in a bag, forty in a bag, whatever! And I just told him like, “I don’t give a shit. We’re sending it anyway.” So quality control is out and we’re both basically like, cool. We’re talking and all, and he mentions that some other coworkers came back and are working in other departments now. One went to maintenance, the other somewhere else, and it kind of swung around to the fact that they were all wearing matching shirts that said, “I’m a thief.” on a nice, tattoo style gothic font on the back and that no one else was getting the joke! I was the only one that brought it up.  .  .  . 14.) what’s your favorite warm beverage? Crappy (very important) black tea with honey and milk. 15.) name one musical album that greatly impacted your life? why? Sandcastle Kingdoms by NateWantsToBattle / It summarizes some of my fears in life and like, pulling through for that one person. Because you don’t see it, but they believe in you, and sometimes that’s enough. 16.) what’s your favorite form of flattery? I enjoy flirting for the sake of it, does that count? Flattery tends to make me uncomfortable, so I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a “favorite.” 17.) what’s your favorite painting? and describe how it makes you feel? It’s a painting I got at the antique store. It’s a moon in a red forest background with silver mixed in. It makes me feel like there’s a sense of adventure and comfort just over there. The forest is in your own backyard. 18.) describe your personal style? Want to be a lot more alt leaning, but currently you’ll catch me in a lot of gray and layers. Kind of a grunge, t-shirt video game nerd, and alt mashup. 19.) what was the last concept that inspired you? @heartxshaped-bruises Casper. 20.) who was your very first artistic inspiration? My very first one? I liked rainbows and architectural drawings. Drew a lot of houses as a kid. 21.) how long have you used tumblr for? how has your style changed over the years? About seven years now. I guess I use the queue a lot more, prioritize life a little more, and tag a lot less on my main blog! xD 22.) what was your first cell phone? Um .  .  . Basically the same model I have now, only it let me use Google Music instead of YouTube music. Android piece of crap. I never wanted a phone. It was thrown at me one day and I couldn’t take it back -_- 23.) what is your favorite fruit flavor? Kind of want to say rambutan right now. 24.) whom would you resurrect from the afterlife? which 3 questions would you ask them? Storyboard artist Harold Michelson .  .  . I’m not sure what three questions I would ask specifically. Probably things like where how he learned to do the stuff, how you learn it, important tools, all that. 25.) if you could choose only one meal to eat for the remainder of your life, which would you choose? Lentils and rice. Because it’s yummy and you can add a lot of stuff with it! 26.) which of the 7 deadly sins do you struggle with the most? and which the least? Wrath and .  .  . I think envy. 27.) your latest obsession? and why? @heartxshaped-bruises Casper. He’s such an interesting character- Tragic, strong, kind with a bit of bite to him. I’m so totally in love! 28.) if you could domesticate any animal as your pet, which would you choose? Sharks. They’re nice. 29.) what’s your least favorite smell? Crack. Had a hard time thinking of it, but it’s crack. Gives me an instant headache that won’t go away for hours. 30.) favorite “mythological” creature? and why? Dragons. Any form of dragons, they’re strong and have good ideals. 31.) name a scene from a movie that makes you cringe? No one specific scene comes to mind, but in general, poor survival skills in movies! It’s like fatal funnels aren’t even a thing! 32.) favorite piece of memorabilia you own? I own the sheep mask from this music video here! :D 33.) your personal favorite oddity about yourself? I can climb like a mountain goat real good! 34.) favorite concert/show you’ve attended? I went to an All Time Low concert in my hometown. Oh my god that thing was a riot! They almost got booed over nice-y small-talk XD 35.) what’s one thing you would tell to the last person who betrayed you? Honestly, I have no idea. There’s more to say, but at the same time, everything that needed to be said was said. 36.) your favorite mantra to live by? I’m not sure I live by it the way I want, but I like, “Don’t tread on me.” 37.) do you have any strange habits? Not sure if it’s really strange, but I always make sure people aren’t following me when I go anywhere. 38.) what’s your favorite white-noise to fall asleep to? Just random YouTube lets-plays. 39.) what is your favorite gemstone? why? This answer is sure to change, but I like tourmaline. 40.) how do you choose to cope when you’re upset? I like being alone in my room. No one to talk to on the phone or on social medias, maybe watch some YouTube or just sit in silence for awhile. 41.) what are you currently trying to accomplish? Trying to center who I am with who I want to be. 42.) what’s your favorite item you’ve purchased secondhand? A Franklin chair! It was half off at an estate sale! 43.) describe your personality is only 3 words? Stubborn, sarcastic, awkward 44.) how is your relationship with your parents? Fine. Maybe a little distant. 45.) an instrument you aspire to learn how to play? The bagpipes! Growing up, there was always this one neighbor that played Amazing Grace at certain times of the year. Sounded pretty good! Never-mind that bagpipes are loud and I live in an apartment.  .  .  . 46.) relate yourself to one movie character? 47.) least favorite music genre? why? Not exactly a singular genre- but pretentious music in general. Pop and Christian music in general come to mind here. I don’t mind the actual music per say, but people act all weird about some of it. 48.) which animal would you be the most terrified to encounter? Probably a bear. 49.) name a public figure you find to be overrated? why? Jim Carrey. God, fuck that man. A: Canadian (not a plus.) B: Everyone goes on and on about how nice he is and it’s just not believable! I don’t care what they say, I think he’s an asshole, and the only things he’s in that’s any good are when he’s playing assholes! 50.) what purpose do you get out of using tumblr? Ideal social media. Instagram is bullshit, more features than Discord, always hated Facebook and Twitter. Tik Tok is just propaganda .  .  . Ugh. Let’s end this here.

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

@ask-flip-frost

[argxntxus]

Another switch...?

An eyebrow was raised as a certain silver-eyed man stared at his own reflection, standing face to face with his full body mirror. His lips formed into a lopsided pout scanning up and down his frame. His usually ebon-colored hair was now dyed chocolate brown, and the locks on his crown he was certain were matted together courtesy of the thick syrupy substance applied onto it.

Moving his gaze ever downwards, instead of his usual cloak-and-garb, a golden jacket and a bright yellow shirt was what he wore, and as he lowered his sight even more, the gray trousers and black combat boots were replaced with yellow plaid ones and golden sneakers.

“…Are you sure she would like this, little one?” Xalroc asked the sniggering boy in front of him. He sighed and drew on his patience waiting upon the child to compose himself.

“Sure! I mean you know how much Mommy loves me right? By that logic then she’d totally like you too! And besides, this doubles as our halloween dinner since you guys are soooo busy fighting monsters that night!”

“Fine then. I have my doubts, but I shall believe what you say, given how you two are so close.” Of course, it was more to respect the boy more than anything else. Source help him should he antagonize his fairy comrade if he refused.

“Yeah yeah, and don’t forget we’re in this together! It’s not like only you’re the one wearing a costume!” Markie spun on his toes, displaying his barely hidden fascination with the man’s clothing choice. He always had a penchant for cloaks and boots.

“Anyway, c'mon pick up the pace! I can't wait to see the look on mom's face when she finally sees us again for so long!” the boy added, slapping Xalroc’s waist. Hurriedly he then ran off with his present for Flip; a box of maple candies with a fried bee in each piece, glancing over his shoulder to see if Xalroc, who was carrying a large box that contained a filigree sculpture of a beehive complete with little filigree bees, was following behind.

The boy knocked loudly at the front door of Flip’s treehouse home just seconds before the man finally arrived. As soon as the door swung open…

“Merry birthmas mommy!!!”

“Happy birthday, Miss Flip.”

Resounding laughter then filled the entire forest glade.

@ask-flip-frost

[jazzy-art-time]

Frost updated reference as of 3/30/2023

Wow, such a important character for the story Allow me to never discuss him or speak of him ever have a reference update as a sacrifice for literally never mentioning you Frost

[habitual-creatures]

*shuts window, goes out and stands on the porch*

You left without saying what to do… besides convince them… soooo yeah, this is as convinced as they’re gonna get…

A̸n̸d̷h̴o̷w̴c̵o̷n̷v̴i̶n̴c̵e̴d̶-̸ ̵i̶s̵ ̶t̴h̸a̷t̶ ̷e̵x̶a̷c̵t̷l̶y̸?̶

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

@ask-flip-frost

Tea set

[markiebutterhands]

In Which Markie Sings For His Mom

A fidgeting Markie found himself in front of Flip's enchanted tree home. Biting his lip, he craned his neck back at his companion who, by this time, he considered an older brother, though he'd never admit it.

"I-I don't think I can do this... Can we go back and practice again?"

"Hm? Did you not tell me that this would be the best time? Or would you rather do this on another, non-celebratory day?"

"...Yeah, you're right. I just... well, it's my first time singing, you know?"

"And you are surprisingly good at it. I could not believe you told me you never sang before. I do not mean to... butter you up-" Markie visibly winced. "pun unintended of course, for lack of a better expression, but you could have fooled me if you told me you were a bard-in-training."

"Okay, I guess I'll go... Here goes nothing."

As soon as he finished knocking on the door and the calming visage of Flip came into view, the boy spoke with a quivering voice,

"Happy Mother's Day Mommy, I wanted to surprise you this day with uhh... Well, I figured I've always cooked you delicious desserts so I thought I'd do something different for you! Uhh, Mr. Xalroc told me you love music, and I heard the kids in the neighborhood singing this to their moms, so, well, I hope you like it!"

~Maybe I'll never know the love it takes

To make me a happy home that's warm and safe

And maybe I'll never see how you pray for my every need

And wonder what more you could do for me

But when you walk by my side Read me stories at night

And teach me to trust in God's love

You give me a hug, maybe two

And you say, "I love you"

Then I think you're doing enough

Maybe you wonder if you're teaching me

Every good thing that I can someday be

But all that I know of faith

And of kindness and love and strength

I've learned just by watching you every day

So when you stay by my side

Hear me stories at night

And teach me to trust in God's love

You give me a hug, maybe two

And you say, "I love you"

Then I think you're doing enough~

At the back, Xalroc's eyes were visibly watering, a solemn smile on his face. Speechless, the boy then gave his mother a nervous smile.

“Happy Mother’s Day to you mommy! And the same goes for Aunty-mun too! I got her a maple syrup cake ‘cause I know it’s her birthday, my mun told me!”

@ask-flip-frost

[rafesangelita]

i feel like rafe and sweetheart!readers first kiss comes from reader but rafe deepens it. like she’s teaching him how to make frosting and he’s got some on the corner of his mouth and sweetheart!reader is like “uhm rafe… you have- nvm” and just stand on her tiptoes to kiss it off and he goes nuts sitting her on the counter to finally kiss her the way hes wanted to the whole time.

warnings: fluff, heated kissing, rafe hating his job lol

“make sure you leave the mixer in there long enough.” you were currently teaching rafe how to make your infamous buttercream frosting, and even though he was doing good, he couldn’t stop himself from dipping his finger inside the bowl every five seconds.

“it’s gonna be gone before we could finish!” you laughed, playfully swatting his hand away. “alright, alright.” he backed away, watching as you took over mixing for him. “i really appreciate you, you know..” you had spoken up, meeting his eyes.

“for what?” you stopped what you were doing, leaning against the counter to face him. “for everything. i don’t even have to ask you to do anything for me, you just do it.” you shrugged. rafe nodded, smiling softly. the action drew your attention to his lips, a smudge of frosting smeared on the corner.

you giggled, shaking your head as you pointed at his mouth. “what?” he started wiping his face, your giggles turning into full on laughter as he continued to miss the spot. “where is it?!” just as you were about to reach up, you noticed the frosting on your own fingers.

“just- um, okay..” you tippy toed, bringing your lips to barely brush over his before pulling away. rafe just about died when he saw you lick away the sweet mixture, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “did i overstep?” it was silent for a few moments before you found yourself being manhandled.

his lips were on yours in an instant, both of you melting into each other’s touch. you’d wanted this from him since the day he bought your entire basket of cookies at the country club. you moaned into the kiss as he picked you up, placing you on the counter.

nothing, not even the bowl of frosting next to you two, was sweeter than hearing those pretty sounds leave your lips. rafe wasted no time, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands dug into the skin of your waist. he had never wanted someone this bad.

you weren’t used to being kissed like this, your fingers trailing across his chest as he deepened it, his tongue finding yours. butterflies fluttered in your tummy when you heard rafe groan. “y/n..” he pulled away breathlessly, swallowing thickly at the sight of your already swollen lips.

“don’t stop.” you tugged on his shirt, a smug look forming on his face. as much as he wanted to keep going and flip up that skirt of yours, he pulled away, hard as a rock in his jeans. you noticed immediately, wanting nothing more than to please him in that very moment.

“i don’t want you to think i’m here just to have my way with you.” he cleared his throat, your shoulders falling in defeat when you heard the jingle of his truck keys. “i know that..” you trailed off, stepping closer to him. he took your lips again, this time placing his hand on the small of your back.

your eyes fluttered closed, your dainty palm resting in the curve of his neck. “please don’t leave.” you whispered, his erection pressing against your stomach. rafe pecked you one more time before his phone rang.

“hello? yeah, i-, i’m on the the way already.. yes, i know we have work early. alright. i’ll see you.”

“that was my dad. we have a job in the morning.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “when we take that step, i don’t want to be in a rush to get home or leave you before you wake up.” rafe held your face in his hands, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

you didn’t want that either. nodding at his words, you hugged him, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. “okay.” you hated every second of watching him walk to his truck. “we’ll pick up where we left off, ‘promise sweetheart.” you smiled, giving him a small wave as he drove away.

[muppeteyes1001]

🍻

Send in 🍻 for our muses to go drinking together

Kitt settles herself in the corner of a small tavern called the Three-Eyed Raven. It was a fairly late night and a work night for most, meaning not a lot of patrons up and about.

Taking a sip from a cocktail glass that contained a pale purple tonic called the Aviation, she then briefly places it down onto the counter next to four empty glasses. Turning her attention towards her new drinking buddy.

"Hehe .. Ya know, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure ta talk with an actual fairy before .. Not that I didn't believe in ya or anythin' like that ... I just mean that .... I've chatted with dragons, an' big bugs, an' kings, .... Even had an angel for a companion for a while .... I miss that big pidgeon ...... But, you! .... Nevah thought I'd see ya outside one of my ol' storybooks, yeah"

The felinoid was a tad on the tipsy side for sure. Though was still able to carry on a proper conversation.

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

@ask-flip-frost

I am so normal I am so normal I am so normal. You are amazed and astounded at how normal I am and how easy it is for me to do base human tasks.

[ask-thedepressedkidatthetable]

@ask-flip-frost's comment on (x): I’ve actually been thinking on that lately! What was their relationship when Alex was really young? Not just in front of him, but behind closed doors. Struggles, frustrations, good things/humanizing things as well as bad, etc. Social backgrounds, all that.

"I'm not crazy." She spoke, barely above a hushed whisper. Exhaustion crept into her voice, but sleep was still far away for her, unlike the child sleeping against her chest. Alexander, they'd named one half. The other, Grayson wasn't in their arms. "I know you're not."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" What was wrong with him? Was she alone? Did they have a family or didn't they? She felt like she was choking on every unspoken word as she looked down at Alexander. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be beautiful- more beautiful than this. But it wasn't his fault, was it? How could it be? The child was only a few hours old, lifting his head to look at her and give a gentle cry after birth . . . He was a strong baby. He was also looking for his brother. She knew it. "Damn it! Because we were testing the limits as it was! After everything, they're not getting both!"

"So one was good enough?"

No . . . It wasn't. But he wasn't losing her and Alexander. He couldn't lose her and he knew the looks the nurses and doctor's had been passing between themselves, a silent language easily understood. "We're going to get Grayson-" She flinched, tears sliding down her face again. "We're going to get him back." They said a man could not die if his name was still spoken, but it was too much to hear in the space between them now. Memory would have to do. Minutes, where everything was okay.

They drove home, the three of them holding onto each other through the night and passing day.

I would say tragedy strained all of their relationships. Things changed, and there was never any moving forward. The hospital took Grayson away, pronouncing him dead. Alex's parents never believed that to be true. A search for the truth began, but they had so much to lose, and had already paid dearly. The hope was always to find Grayson and have a family again- a complete family. But as Alex grew up, the reality that he was an only child seemed to take hold. There was too much to say, holes dug in too deep and personal conspiracies they had in mind to explain to him about having a brother, so they never mentioned it.

They just had each other in some ways. With a few notable exceptions, they cut ties with their families after Alex's birth, proven time and time again that they just didn't understand . . . that they would make things worse and work against them at a moment's notice. Alex was too important for that. They were going to keep him safe from others at any cost.

As for social backgrounds, I still have little idea. High enough to justify traveling and an expensive house, but it's not like they're on top of the world.

[eupheme]

— are you mine?

joel miller x f!reader

rated t - 4.4k

tags: over-protective and soft jackson!joel, partners-to-lovers, mutual jealousy, secrets, miscommunication and rumors, light angst, valentine’s day

a little valentine’s day gift for the lovely @sweetercalypso - I was so thrilled to get you for the Space Sister’s exchange! I really hope you like it! 💌💕

A change in your usual patrol schedule, a dash of over-protectiveness, and a gossipy partner leads to you desperately wish you could turn back time.

Because how can you face Joel, after this?

"I don't like it."

His voice comes from next to your shoulder. Rough and low - your eyes drifting over heavy, muddied boots, then up. Trying not to linger where his strong arms cross over a broad chest, the pull of fabric against skin where the sleeves are rolled up to elbows.

"Don't like what?" You ask, as your plate and mug join the pile of others in the bin to be washed. Finishing up a quick breakfast in the mess hall before your patrol shift begins.

A second lingers, before Joel answers.

"Don't like the thought of you out there without me."

His answer makes your stomach flip, butterflies already sprouting at the unexpected encounter. You hadn't thought you'd see Joel until later - an unexpected change in last night’s schedule. Sending him out from evening until dawn, and leaving you with a new partner for this morning.

"You're the one that swapped shifts." You point out, finally glancing his way. Seeing the pull of his brows, the shift as he leans against one of the heavy wooden support beams, "Anyways, I won't be alone. They have me with William."

The mark between his brows deepens, "Don't know if I like that, either."

Your own eyebrows raise, "What's wrong with William?"

He doesn't answer - the dark pull of his gaze breaking, as his eyes drop.

"Heard rumor there might be someone in the woods," Joel changes the subject, "Dirt kicked over the ashes, footsteps leading off to the east. No sign of anyone, but that don’t mean they ain’t hangin' around.”

He's worried, you think. Your hand reaches out, hovering for just a moment before you're clapping his bicep, instead of his bare forearm.

"Just because there was someone there, doesn't mean they're bad." The touch lingers for a moment, before your hand is dropping - shoving into your jacket pocket, "Besides, it’s daylight now. We'll be fine. Always are."

His look is dark, at your words.

An optimism lingering in you that has long been leached from his system. An uneasiness that lingers in his blood and bones - a shift of his his as he reaches to draw something out of his back pocket. Pressing it into your hand, when you reach for it without thinking.

"Know how to use this?"

It's a knife - his knife -  the folded handle fitting his broad hand but feeling more like a dagger in yours.  

“Joel, please-” You all but huff, torn between annoyed and touched. Reaching out to hand it back, but he’s shifting sideways to dodge you. 

“Humor me, alright?” He’s grumbling - but he's not done - fishing something else from his jacket pocket. Holding it out for you to take as well - heavy and plastic in your other hand.

You flip it over, seeing the small antenna fit above the speaker, the buttons worn bare and smooth beneath. A gleam of red, the light already on and winking.

"Ellie's got the other. I'll get it from her this morning." He explains, "Two-way radio. You need anything or run into anyone, I'll know."

It would be stifling, if it were anyone else.

Insulting, perhaps. 

But knowing that Ellie does this for Joel soothes you, teeth biting into your lip to hold back your smile.

And you can’t deny that you did feel a little uneasy, heading out without your partner.

"Fine.” You tell him, with a sigh.

“But just this once."

The ground crunches beneath your feet, a frost and thin snow freezing and blanketing the green pokes of grass overnight. 

You’re already ready for spring, even though the world has just creeped into February. Missing the crunch of leaves instead of ice. Yearning for the daffodils and crocuses to pop up, as the earth thaws.

But for now - you’re content to concede that it’s easier to do your job, at least. The only damaged grass around you, the only marks in the dirt, are your own. 

Quiet, idle conversation with William passing as you take the usual route - your rucksack a familiar weight against your shoulders. Padded with the faded and patched feather-down of your coat as you weave between trees.

Checking traps for food, finding nothing. Not unusual when the rest of the world seems to be sleeping.

The sun is nearly overhead when you reach the watchtower, the spindly legs that hold the narrow room high in the sky. The rungs leading up are wide, but you still hold your breath as you climb. Only exhaling at the top, when both your feet are firmly on the metal platform - cold air sharp in your lungs with your inhale.

It's pretty up here. A clouded blue sky above, a suggestion of snow. A wistful hope that it will hold off until tomorrow, as your patrol partner unlocks the door - checking the inside before you follow.

Your rucksack lands with a thud just inside the door, which closes behind you. The windows are cracked, spider-webbing from the corners, but still holding firm enough that it shields you from some of the chill outside.

Looking out above some of the trees, giving you a peek of Jackson when you stand in the southern corner. 

Here, you can take a minute to breathe. To talk, while keeping watch and warm.

You can’t remember the last time you've been out with William. You didn't run in the same circles - he had a regular rotation of patrol partners. You had Joel, and sometimes Ellie, and you never found a reason to stray.

That thought, the change, had kept you busy on the patrol. Your mind wandered as your feet moved on your own, through well-known paths. Eyes seeing but your thoughts elsewhere.

He had seemed worried, at the mess hall.

Or - on edge, at least. Distracted.

There had been a quick rap on your door, a mumbled excuse about them needing him last night. Letting you know you'd be with someone else for your shift in the morning. A glance over his shoulder, nodding towards the figure that was waiting for him, before he was off.

And although he had made the switch, he sure didn't seem happy about it this morning.

William was friends with Jesse, who was friends with Ellie and Dina - you couldn't think of a reason for the ever-present mark that had deepened between his eyebrows.

You wonder why - because surely, a set of trained and fed partners would be more than a match for anyone drifting through the woods on their own. Even you weren't so nervous, and you didn't have the years and grit of someone like Joel.

And it wasn't like William was unprepared. He'd been doing patrols just as long as you had, maybe even a little longer.

It's here that you're drawn away, your companion’s voice breaking through your thoughts. His foot tapping yours, where you both sit on the old, wooden floor.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod in agreement, offering the slightest lift of a smile, “Yeah. Been couple months, at least.”

“More than that. Bet it’s been close to a year.”

“Oh.” You blink, thinking back.

Wondering if that’s why his gaze has been on you so often this morning - that he’s nearly forgotten what you look like, “Guess I hadn’t noticed.”

You hadn’t realized it’s been that long. And at the same time, only that long.

Joel had drifted for a while in Jackson - untethered, but never far from the nearest door, the nearest wall. Content to watch from the fringes, to stay unnoticed. To slip out, when he’s had enough.

It still took a few months until he was rotated into the patrol. Until you met him, fully. Needling conversation out of him in these morning walks, or when the stars stretched out in the inky night.

Fully expecting him to trade out, when he could. Others often did - preferring a variety of company.

He never did. And neither did you. 

Things worked with Joel. And more than trust had bloomed in those lone hours together, something that had planted in your first days of seeing him. Carefully tended, nourished by the slivers of traded secrets and shared looks and moments where you had thought that just maybe…. maybe… you weren’t alone. 

"Don't know how you can stand patrolling with him. He’s a scary dude." William mutters, the sound low as you hunker down below the rim of the metal railing.

You frown. Joel's not scary. Not really. Not to you.

A grouch, for sure. All bark and bite, but it's never once been directed at you. 

“Joel?” You ask, clarifying.

“Yeah, Miller.” He gives you a sideways look, “You know he's killed people, right? Like, not just infected. People, people.”

The stories and rumors aren't new to you, they cling to him like ghosts. The whispers when he came into town had never stopped - but with time, they had lessened.

He had intimidated you, at first. A low voice and an angry look that would send anyone scurrying, but in the two years since he's been here, it's all faded at the edges. Gone soft. 

Looking back, knowing now how he looks after Ellie, looks after you - you’re not sure how you ever saw him that way. 

And you think, you hope, that deep down - he does care. That a part of him might feel the same.

It’s there in the way he sought you out this morning. More than a dislike in the change of his schedule - that wouldn’t have loosened the knife he carried.

It was there in your patrols. In the way you felt safe, with him - in how it flowed from outside those wooden walls to inside the town, inside his home. 

"We all have." You reply, with a sharp finality.

You didn't really remember the days before. Your life had been filled with spoken memories, but they weren't yours. The days of lawfulness are akin to fairy tales - merely stories, in your mind.

Who were you to judge, when your own hands were stained?

The infected weren’t the only monsters in this world. You’re sure he had his reasons, as did you.

William makes a sound of agreement, before dropping the subject. Content to watch the sparkle of snow, caught in the wind where it drifts down from tall branches.

That silence is broken a little later, with another question.

"You goin' to the dance later?"

Your legs stretch, toes wiggling in the chill of the room. Even enclosed, the cold seeps in through the cracks and thin panes of splintered glass.

"Of course."

Everyone would be.

The dances in Jackson were few and far between. Even more rare in these cold months - people preferring to stay warm, keep out of the snow that gathers in the alleys, the chill that whips down the rows of buildings. 

The day before had been spent decorating the church hall. There was an ache in your arms where you had helped Wendy roll out the dough for cookies - watching as the younger folks cut hearts out of recycled paper in the mess hall, to be strung along the walls. 

Underneath the stars above and in the glow of the lights, it would be beautiful.

There's a steadying breath next to you.

A moment, before he's asking, "You goin' with anyone?"

The rest comes in a rush, "I mean, do you wanna go with me?"

He turns your way, as you slowly go still. Too surprised to form an answer, trapped in his gaze with your wide eyes and parted lips.

"I-" You begin, and then falter.

William was nice. A little older than you. Showy, when he was with his friends, ready to do anything for a laugh.

Nice, but not Joel. No one was.

And deep down, you know that it's not like Joel thought of you that way. Returned those feelings, despite your wishes.

But you knew he'd be there. He'd go for Ellie, who would make sure she was there to see Dina.

And you'd go for Joel.

Even if just to see him, even if only for a moment.

The silence has stretched too long, an uneasy shifting next to you as he waits for an answer.

"There someone else?" The lilt of his voice has turned sharp, accusatory. Slicing through your thoughts, demanding your attention.

And again, you stumble. Still unable to form words, still too caught off guard - tongue twisted in knots. 

“There is, isn’t there?” Another verbal nudge, and it’s here that you find your voice. 

"There is... uh, someone." You manage - not ready to spill your guts, but there’s no chance you’ll agree to go with him.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he scoffs, "Who, Joel?"

He laughs at his own joke - and it's only now, as it's turned on you, that you notice how cruel it can sound. 

Your own eyes drop, head turning back towards the wall. 

And it’s here that your eyes snag on the cherry red gleam that peeks from the outside pocket of your rucksack. 

The radio. 

Forgotten entirely, in the long walk over. 

Panic courses through you.

Can he hear you, from here? Is he listening now?

You send up a silent wish, hoping that perhaps he's stepped out. That if you're lucky, the radio doesn't quite reach this far.

The silence gives you away, before you can brush it off - too caught up in the fear that twists in your stomach. A look had crossed your features that William had caught, the laughter dying as he pushes to his feet.

"You can't be serious." There's the mocking curl of his lip, a look of incredulity, "Miller? Are you out of your mind?"

There had been a flicker of thought - thinking that you could go over, switch it off. Or change the subject, tell Will to just shut up - but there’s something in his tone that distracts you - igniting your dread and embarrassment into anger and irritation. 

Making you slip up.

"So what if it is? It's none of your business-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

He’s fully turned your way now. The melting snow of his boots soaking into the hem of your jeans, with how he close he sits. Close enough that you can see the grit of his jaw, as he flings another barb at you. 

"You think he's going to treat you right? Do you even know where he was last night?”

It feels like a slap in the face - the way you flinch, cheeks burning.

“He… he was on patrol.” You stammer, unsure where this is headed.

“Could be. It’s easy to change logs when you got a brother out at the same time.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. As if your world hasn’t tilted on it’s axis, leaving you off-kilter.

Your heartbeat thunders behind your ribs, in your ears, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean… Fred said he saw him at Esther’s house. Last night and this morning.”

Rumors spread like wildfire in a town as close-knit as Jackson. It wasn’t hard to see where he was going, even if it pained you.

Esther, who tended the greenhouse.

Esther, who Joel had once been set up.

Esther, who split last month with her husband. 

Esther, who kept the house.

You’re frozen. As if the cold has sunken into your skin, bonded with your bones. An aching weight settling over your heart, stealing your breath.

Because in this moment, you truly realize how much you’d been thinking about him as yours. Suddenly realizing the depth of you feelings for Joel - how much he’s come to mean to you.

It’s devastating, thinking about him being someone else’s.

It just can’t be true.

But… 

But wouldn’t it explain his actions this morning?

Did you misread worry for guilt? Or secrecy?

“Look.” He says, after a pause. Giving you a pitying look, his hand reaching out to touch your shouler, “All I’m saying is that I’d never-”

It was all too much. 

You’ve had enough. 

"Can you just drop it?" You hiss, suddenly, "I'm not going with you."

The focus of his gaze still rests on you, as you push yourself to your feet. Grabbing for your bag - it's still a little early, but you're not about to stay stuck up in this tower with him.

"Where are you-" He's asking, as you shake your head - slipping past him, through the door.

"I'll see you back at Jackson."

Letting it slam shut behind you.

It's stupid, to wander off by yourself. Even if you weren’t too far from home, no more than a thirty minute walk. 

The rifle left in William's possession, where it still rested against the railing. Joel's blade heavy and cold in your hand as you fish it from your jacket pocket.

Matching the stone-heavy weight of your heart, as you follow your footsteps back towards town. Your thoughts twisting, as you silently bargain with whoever might be listening.

Wishing foolishly that you could turn back time. 

Content with even just not knowing.

Because that’s the worst part, right? That you know he knows. And that he knows you do. That surely - he heard it all.

If you were alone, if you hadn’t taken that radio, you’d still have your secret.

Maybe Joel wouldn’t have his, but you’d try to bear it. Find a way to put the pieces of your heart together, and try to move on.

Cherish those few more days, weeks, before he would have told you. Maybe by then, you could’ve acted happy.

But now, you’re certain he won’t want anything to do with you. Certain that you’ve ruined a good thing - not just the patrols, but your partnership, and friendship.

Because who would want to stick around with a girl with a stupid little crush?

It leaves you feeling flayed open. Grateful for the whip of the wind, giving you an excuse for the tears that spring to your eyes. 

For a moment - in your embarrassment - it leaves you even thinking about running away.

You'd survived for this long. It would be harder, on the outside. But perhaps, you could start over.

With a sigh, you crumple the thought up, and toss it away. It's no more than wishful thinking. No different than hoping the world would crack beneath your feet, and swallow you whole.

No…

You would have to bear it.

You're less than a mile from the wooden border around town, when you pick up the crunch of boots on snow. Fear prickles down your spine as the blade clicks open in your grasp, your pulse leaping beneath your skin.

The waver of a shadow, moving between the trees in front of you. You go still, squinting, tucking yourself behind one of the thick trunks.

They're alone.

It could be someone from town, but you'd heard there was only one set of boots near the fire they found, the night before. A quick glance over your shoulder - wishing you hadn't split off.

Wishing you had taken the rifle.

They move closer, and your breath catches as they call out.

Not just a greeting, but your name.

A wave of relief washes over you, you know that voice. This figure. The cock of his hip as he stands, the shoulders that slope when he sees you - a hand raised in greeting.

"Heard you leave. Shouldn't be out here by yourself."

The warm glow in your belly chills, at his words.

The acknowledgement that he had been listening souring your mood. It has you bristling at his tone, misreading his worry. 

"I'm fine." You wiggle his knife at him, the blade glinting in the afternoon sun, "Didn't have to come all this way."

In the path you take to skirt around him, you miss the pull of his brow - the frown that forms. The way he breaks into a jog to catch up behind you, staying a few steps back as he does a visual sweep of the woods behind you.

Your strides are long, focused on the crunch of grass beneath your feet. Eyes fixed ahead as he follows, until the tall wooden posts loom up ahead.

Above, and then through. 

If you can just make it home, you think that would be enough. The little house is only a few streets away from the edge.

Something that he hated - how it wasn’t safe enough.

Something that used to please you. 

He’s still following, your silent companion. Chivalrous, you suppose, to make sure you get home okay. Even after everything. 

You’re nearly there - feet taking you up the rickety steps for your porch - when that silence is finally broken.

“You know it ain’t true, right?

For as quiet as his voice is, it still seems to cut through the air, halting your step. Your eyes still fixed on the door ahead of you, but you find yourself stopping - waiting.

“There ain’t anybody else.”

There’s a weight in the way he says it. A confession, layered in the low pitch of his voice.

It has you turning. 

To where he stands, where your shadows meld together. And it’s only now that you see him - the intensity of his gaze. The mis-matched buttons on his coat, the cold that burns at his nose and cheeks until they’re pink. 

He’d been outside for a while.

Searching for you - leaving hat and gloves behind. 

“Where were you last night?” You ask - and he watches you like you’re about to bolt. Palms facing you where they hang at his sides, finger stretching out and then curling.

Reaching up now, to scrub through his hair in frustration - loosening dark, peppered-gray curls. 

“I was there.” Joel admits, and there’s the acid ache of jealousy welling up in your chest. Picturing him with her instead of with you - like in your wishes, your dreams.

“But-” His hands raise, when he sees your expression, “But I just stopped by. I was on patrol with Tommy, you can ask him.”

You want to believe him. But you know you’re both thinking the same thing - thoughts flickering back to William’s suggestion. 

“Or, you can ask Maria. You know she won’t cover for me.” He adds - and that softens you, just a little.

“Why did you trade?”

The moment hangs, where you’re left staring at each other. Your heart gallops in your chest, as he fights an internal battle - before his eyes slide across your cheek, over your shoulder. 

But then there’s the smallest, rueful smile. His dark eyes flipping up to yours.

“Didn’t think it’d be like this.” Joel sighs, moving closer - to the bottom step. Enough to where you could reach out and touch him. Enough to where you see the weariness etched in his face, from where he stayed up all morning to keep watch over you.

“Got some roses for you. They’re at the house.” The words come slowly, “Was gonna give ‘em to you tonight. Wanted to do this right.”

Wanted to do this right.

The words echo in your mind. Pieces of a puzzle starting to fit into place, but you still feel like you’re behind - forever out of step and catching up. 

“That’s why I was out last night. Esther is… rekindling things with her husband.” He manages, “Traded his shift last night for ‘em so they could be together. Went back to pick ‘em up this morning.”

“Roses.” You echo, “Why?”

“Why?” Joel frowns, as hands brace on his hips. Looking flustered, looking like he wishes you could just understand.

And suddenly, you do.

Your own words come slowly now, “For me? For Valentine’s Day?”

Relief crosses his features, those dark eyes going soft.

“Yeah, darlin’.” He smiles, “For you.”

Emotions swirl and surge through you. Relief yes, but also something stronger, something that flutters behind your ribs and threatens to burst free. 

“I didn’t-” You begin, and then stop. A tightness in your throat, as you gaze at him, “I was so worried that you heard what he said, that it was real-”

“I heard.” A dark look crossed Joel’s features, a grit of his jaw, “Heard what you said too. Made me hope, ‘til he opened his mouth again.”

He’s on the top step now, no more than a few feet away. Irritation prickling at him from the memory of you in that tower, tucked away with someone who wasn’t him.

Until his hand is scratching at the scruff of his beard, his look changing.

“But if I misread this-” Joel starts - almost hesitant, if a man like Joel could be.

It makes you want to laugh, after everything. Because you get it, now.

Just how foolish you both had been.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to cut him off, “You... you heard right.”

There ain’t anybody else…. but you.

It’s always been him.

He kisses you under the eaves of your little porch. 

Stepping into you as your head tilts up - cold fingers tracing your chin, cupping your jaw just as his lips skim against yours.

The lightest brush, as something electric sparks - radiating from that point of contact, skittering down your spine. A soft moan that slips from your throat, before he’s pressing closer - before your hands are slipping, gripping onto his shoulders beneath the thick canvas of his coat.

Everything fades - growing hazy. He’s all you can feel, as your eyes close. Something finally clicking into place, as your lips part for the brush of his tongue. Another moan as he licks into your mouth - stumbling footsteps in both of your haste. 

Until your back is bumping against wood, and his arm is wrapping around you. Surrounding you, leaving you breathless as the frame of the door digs into your hip.

Finally sated, in your need for him. 

And yet more hungry, than you’ve ever been.

The grip of your fingers loosen, as you reach for the door knob. Fumbling for a second before it’s loosening, and you’re stepping back - bringing him with you, your other hand still fisted in the fabric of his coat. 

He groans into your mouth, a hand wrapping around your waist so you don’t stumble, as he follows you inside.

Then there’s low husk of his voice, the barest curve of a smile, “What about your dance, sweetheart?”

Teasing, in the way he spins you around. In the way you’re caged in against the door again, tucked away safely from the other side.

No prying eyes except for his. 

Your answer close to a whine, with the way his fingers find the zipper on your coat, drawing it down.

“I think…” You manage, distracted by the press of his lips against your neck. In the fingers that dip beneath your layers, seeking bare skin.

“I think we can be a little late.”

happy valentine’s day, friends! 💌💕 and especially to elaine - these were such fun prompts! you are the sweetest and I hope you have such a good day!

[markiebutterhands]

Markie beamed, his eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you like it!! And I'm sure it will, it's vanilla and maple!" Markie flexed his arms.

"Happy birthday mommy!! Hope you're doing great! Mr. Xalroc taught me how to do this fili-bee stuff, it's cool right?? Also I heard somebody sent you a bunch of crispy fried bees and rum so I didn't put any for this cake, sorry! :P Still I hope you like it!! I love you very much!!!"

@ask-flip-frost

"THAT is a fancy looking cake, kiddo! Thank you for going to so much effort. I'll bet it tastes fantastic~" Flip peeped happily.

[dearsnow]

Can you do the outsiders reacting to you doing the orange peel theory (asking them to do a small task you can do yourself) I love your writing‼️

THE ORANGE PEEL THEORY

- in which you ask the greasers to complete simple, unassuming tasks that you can easily do yourself. (the outsiders x gn!reader, fluff)

a/n - this is so cute omg 😭 the orange peel theory is so trivial but it’s a very neat concept and i love writing things like this. and thank you!!

includes: johnny, ponyboy, dally, sodapop, & darry

“Oh shoot, I dropped my pencil. Could you get it for me, please, JOHNNY?”

Johnny does it without hesitation. He doesn’t question it, even though the pencil is way closer to you than to him, and he has to bend at an awkward angle to pick it up. You could ask him for almost anything and he’d try his best to do it. He lives and breathes to help you.

“Yeah, I got it.”

//

“Hey, PONY, can you flip this page for me? My hands are real tired.”

Ponyboy is a bit confused, considering your hands are resting on the sides of your book already. However, when he thinks about it, you might’ve hurt your hands somehow or maybe you just don’t have the energy to complete a task that is seemingly very simple. In any case, he’ll put his thoughts aside and do it for you.

“Sure. Are you okay, though?”

//

“DALLY, could you peel this orange?”

He snorts and asks if you can’t do it yourself while taking the orange from your hands. He throws it from hand to hand over your head, and when you reach to take it from him, he’ll pull it back and peel it. He’s not bothered by it, but he will take half of the orange for himself as compensation.

“Done. Need help peeling off anything else of yours, now?”

//

“Wait, SODA, would you wipe the frosting off my cheek?”

When you ask this while making a cake with him, Sodapop assumes you’re playing around. He licks it off your cheek instead then bounces away before you can berate him for being gross. He would also do pretty much anything for you in his own way- as long as you don’t get too pissed at him.

“Hah! You can’t get mad, you asked for it.”

//

“DARRY, can you cut my hangnail for me?”

You ask, handing him a pair of nail clippers. He’s confused, astounded, and mildly amused by your proposition. He asks you if you can’t just do it yourself, but halfway through talking to you he changes his mind and gently grabs your hand. He’ll act annoyed, but secretly he enjoys taking care of you in these little ways.

“Can’t you… fine, fine, give me the clippers.”

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 6

First Previously AU Summary

“‘Even’ nothing. Now we are going to drop this, summon the new King, beg them for forgiveness and for them to deal with Trigon, and fix those disastrous laws!” Constantine declared while pulling out a book with a strange aura out of his coat pocket.

Red Robin internally sighed in relief. They were finally getting somewhere. He had been worried that they would be stuck getting integrated until Trigon was right on top of them. Not that it would stop them from getting questioned after the whole fiasco was over, but, small mercies.

From the way Batman was glaring at Supernova and Red Robin it was even more obvious that the Bat wouldn’t let it go. The only thing stopping him being the pressing matter with Trigon and the occult magician being very willing to yell at him if he kept poking. Though it did make Red Robin wonder how he planned to do so, it wasn’t like he lived at the manor anymore. No one but Alfred noticed that the only time they saw him was at the cave, and even that was rare. Really makes one question about the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ title that Batman held. Danny certainly doesn’t think so with all his nicknames for him, and after the last few years he was inclined to agree. You really shouldn’t meet your heroes.

The Laughing Magician worked and while watching him make the summoning circle Red Robin and Supernova were suddenly glad that neither offered to make it. If they did they might have never stopped getting questioned. Even Constantine would have probably joined them with how differently their summoning circle would be. While the con man made an intricate circle with the title of Ghost King being the main factor, with candles placed at significant points and fancy offerings, the two boyfriends had a much simpler approach. The biggest differences being name and title. They call Danny by name, which makes it significantly easier than a broad title to summon him. Add on to the fact that most of the titles that Constantine are using are only Danny’s by default the ease in summons is a lot easier. Though them being his boyfriends and offering snacks plays a big factor in it too.

The occult magician then began to chant in Esperanto. Candles began to flicker, changing to Relam’s green. The room’s temperature began to drop, frost creeping across the floor and walls. Wind that shouldn’t be possible in a space station whipped around, flipping Batman and Superman’s capes over their heads. A neon green crack appeared in the air above the summoning circle. Claws clutching the tear in reality before ripping it further.

Out from the tear in reality stepped out an ethereal being. White hair that moved like it was underwater. Lavender skin with freckles spaced out like constellations. Bright green lighting birch scars crawling over their body, cutting all the up to their brow. Eyes glowing the same erie color with the one the scar cut through being that singular color, sclera and all. A crown seemingly made of aurora lights and ice, radiating power. A fur lined coat seemingly made from space only added to the otherworldliness, A ring shaped like a skull, signaling the being as one of death. Armor with small dents here and there showing that it isn’t just for decoration. That this being that they summoned was a fighter, a King forged in battle.

 Everyone but Red Robin and Supernova froze. They thought that they were prepared. They knew that they would be powerful, enough that they could rule over beings like Trigon. But no words could have prepared them for the aura bearing down on them. All their bravo was drained out of the minute they were subjected to the King’s presence. Aquaman was especially shaken. He was a King as well but he felt like nothing compared to the one in front of him. Like a big fish in a small pond thrust to face the ruler of the ocean.

“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.

To be continued . . .

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