#did someone say...MILF JACQUELINE?!?!?!

[safyresky]

Happy June 13th on July 2nd, apparently ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Year Six

Just managing to avoid detection, Jacqueline escapes! Only to find herself face to face with a very shocked and concerned Blaise and Winter. Preferring to avoid explanations, Jacqueline hides in the Pole in the hopes of working with Bernard to somehow put a stop to Jack's plans…

I'm getting very bad at going by this particular ah, aesthetic, aren't I?

Anyway! Frostmas Y6 is now up on ao3, freshly swept and tweaked here and there! It's all neat and tidy and up to SafyreSky Industries 2024 Standards so that's lovely! Check out Year 6: 2024 Edition HERE on ao3 and, yes, ff.net has been updated to match :)

What's 🆕 NEW 🆕 for Year Six?!?!

Word count has swung up: went from 16k to 21k. All I did was add a bit more dialogue lmao, WHOOPS!

Once again YEETING any instances of third person POV! It's all Jacquie baybe

hehehe. ANYWAY

Made the motivations STRONGER; upped Jacqueline's "ANNOY JACK" mode to MAX HIGH HEAT BABY!

Also refined the B-Man/Jacquie chat where he's like "hey man what are friends for" and she's like "😲😲😲 we're FRIENDS?!?!?"

YEAH JACQUELINE. ALWAYS HAVE BEEN

(this may or may not be one of my fave memes lmao)

And I think that about covers it NO WAIT I LIED! A Year Six BTS HERE.

(As a heads up it IS a little bit (a lot) personal—a literal diary entry prefaces the post because there was a nasty gap between Y5 and Y6 bc of some personal shit? So heads up! I did make it VERY clear where personal shit ends and BTS begins so you can skip the Dani rambles and get right to the BTS rambles :)

Frostmas? You are saying. This thing again? Aren't you the Crystal Springs person? What's Frostmas? I am SO glad you asked. Let me share the summary!

The Twelve Years of Frostmas

Nobody but he and I knew the truth. Jack wasn’t supposed to be Santa; I wasn’t supposed to be Jack Frost. He thought being Santa would fix everything. He was horribly, horribly mistaken. [My take on Jack’s reign as Santa during the Escape Clause. MAJOR OC involvement AND First Person POV from said OC. Finally cross posting THIS behemoth! Enjoy!]

Intrigued? Take it from the top: [ao3 | ff dot net]

And here's a Year Six snippet for you, chosen with utmost care (MAXIMUM ANGST) in mind :)

"You know, I really didn’t think you’d do it!”

“Do what?!”

“Freeze that elf! I never even thought you’d agree to it! And when you did I thought wow, she’s really ready to go far for this whole fake freeze thing,” he laughed. “And then! You actually did it?! A little extra, but, I’m a fan of the style that went into it. You took the ice sculpture thing and, and ran with it!”

“Then why keep me here too? What, you still think I’d go to the Council with everything? That I’d stop this?”

“Uh, duh. What do you think I am, stupid?”

I opened my mouth to reply in the affirmative.

“It was rhetorical. Don’t answer that.”

I shut my mouth and pulled a face.

“Besides! I’ll need your help getting all this ready! What with your easy access to our shared heritage. It’ll take AGES if I attempted to do this on my own. Between decorating and the airport—"

I could barely focus as he began listing everything he needed my help doing, and continued walking. I could feel the beginnings of a sprite sleep clawing its way to my eyes as I stifled a yawn, trying to keep my two feet moving forward as I followed Jack down the corridor.

“—and I simply cannot do this all in time if you're out and about all willy-nilly. Also, just in case you're that good.”

“That good?”

“Y’know, actually faking it! Willing to go the distance to keep this up! Then the moment I let you go you’d run to the Council and we can’t have that.”

“Okay so, let’s say, theoretically, I WAS faking it. How would all that—” I gestured back towards the steps, where ice-Mason still sat beyond the walls and halls and twists and turns— “Convince you otherwise?”

“Because it’s exactly what I would’ve done.” The full impact of what he said hit as he turned around, surveying me with an unreadable look. “And you did it.”

I came to a grounding stop, my heart falling in my chest.

Jack chuckled quietly to himself. “Exactly. Now, I’ve got tons to do! We will chit chat later, Jacqueline—I’ll make sure your rooms are done up for your stay. Ciao!”

And, shooting me a smile and double finger guns he disappeared, leaving me alone in the corridor as the crushing weight of what I had just done—and what I had agreed to do—came falling down on me.

I stood in the hallway, motionless. The sounds of the chaos of the Workshop dulled before disappearing completely, nothing but a white noise as the world faded out from me and I realized that yes, Jack would've done it.

And I had done it.

I was turning into Jack.

---

>:D ANGST!

Check out Year Six HERE. ENJOY! 😘😘

[the-everqueen]

sneak peak of LA guard dog pt. 2 because i find it amusing that Coco reliably hits on milfs:

“Sure thing.” The Corinthian hands her the car keys while she jams her feet into sneakers. “Don’t worry, Rosebud, we can hold down the fort.” She laughs, bounces on her toes to kiss his cheek. Then she’s gone, and the house is quiet. Well, except for the dog. It scratches at the front door and looks up at him hopefully. Corinthian curls his lip at it, but the dog is too far removed from its more capable ancestors to read that as a threat, and it waggles its hips in response. Play? Out? It gives a thready whine. Need. He snags the leash from its hook by the door. The dog pisses as soon as its paws touch the scrubby front lawn, so Rose’s intuition was correct on that front. The Corinthian is tempted to just take the animal back inside, except then it darts after a crow with a surprisingly loud bark and, well, those are the kinds of instincts that should be encouraged. Of course, the crow takes flight, but the dog isn’t discouraged, just turns its nose to the ground and starts sniffing for new prey. The Corinthian follows behind at a leisurely pace. “Billie,” as Rose keeps reminding him, “she has a name,” except it doesn’t have legs, not really—Billie trots with single-minded focus. Its long sausage body is good for poking into gopher holes and under bushes. It’d be useful for ferreting out rats or foxes, if either of those were a problem here. As is, it manages to snag a half-empty package of fries and hork down a couple before the Corinthian can wrestle the bag away. “Puppies keep you on your toes,” says a raspy voice. The Corinthian turns. Gives a little wave. “Hey, Mrs. Moreno. You do something new with your hair? It’s looking good.” “Psh. Flatterer.” But the older woman pats at her curls, framed with a colorful headband. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Jackie?” She did, when he first encountered her during his initial scope of the neighborhood. He hasn’t taken her up on it, mostly because her greenish eyes sparkle whenever he drawls her surname or calls her “ma’am.” Jacqueline has the voice of someone who started smoking as a teenager and hasn’t stopped despite her doctor’s best efforts. She sits on her porch at odd hours but always spares a friendly word for Rose. If the Corinthian were hunting her, he’d take her out to Employees Only for drinks and K-town for karaoke. He imagines those honey-flecked irises taste like an appletini. His smile widens. “Now where would a Southern gentleman be without his manners?” Jacqueline’s gaze travels slow and deliberate over his body. “Mm, I’m sure you’d get by.” “Yeah?” She waves a hand at him. “I’m not gonna stroke your vanity unless you stroke something of mine—and I know you belong to that sweet Walker girl. Is that her dog? Doesn’t seem your type.” “What’s my type?” Her grin is all teeth. “Some kinda hound.” She clucks at the dog and it, idiot creature, runs straight for her, tail wagging. “What’s her name?” “Billie.” “Lady Day. I’m more of a Vaughn girl, don’t tell your friend. Though I’ve got some records if she ever wants to listen.” “I’ll let her know.” The Corinthian watches as the dog wriggles with joy at her attention. Jacqueline laughs at its antics, flops its velvet ears between her fingers. The lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Her mom was a big Holiday fan, apparently.” He’s not sure what makes him offer this tidbit. Maybe the hope that a human will know what it means, clue him in to its significance. But Jacqueline just hums, moves her hand to rub the dog’s belly as it rolls onto its back. Her acrylic nails scritch gentle, gentle on that exposed flesh in a way that makes the Corinthian’s eye teeth ache.