#motherofthewinter

[kozpitchiner]

mother-of-the-winter:

Julie leaned down in the attempt to see something under the bed. Maybe she could see two yellow eyes staring at her from the darkness or a big hand ready to catch her ankle by the time she had inched closer. But she didn’t see anything from that chair, even though she was sure that the voice came from-

She stopped in the movement, straightening and letting out a shaky breath. 

That creature was behind there. It was standing behind her back and itwas watching her and talking and breathing and getting real. 

She put a hand on her mouth, sure that she didn’t let out a single breath nor a whisper in fear. Maybe if she could stay still, maybe he wouldn’t have seen her or he would have gone away. It was a nice fantasy. When the creature walked in view, Julie felt a shiver running down her spine like a little crazy spider. She didn’t remember him so tall… and so intimidatory. Julie remained still on the chair, her knuckles pure white, she was sure she had red nail marks on her palm by now. 

"I don’t know what you’re talking about" she tried to keep her voice steady, calm, sure on her arguments. But she knew how shaky she felt and maybe he heard that: the nervous (the fear) in her own voice. "You’re not real" she tried again, sure that that was a hallucination. Yes,it was this! It was a hallucination of a woman driven crazy for the loss, it was the only explanation possible. 

Then why that creature just didn’t go away? 

"I'm not?" Concentration watered in Pitch Black's eyes as he looked down at his frame and brought his palms to his chest. He felt at his body, proving to himself that at least he knew he was there. "Does that make me your imaginary friend?"

He was joking of course, pinchin g his skin as if that could reveal him to be a fabrication of the mother's imagination. He winced at the pain of his nails sinking into his wrist and a sneer followed. With teeth bared, Pitch focused his sights on the woman sitting in her chair and eyed her balled hands.

"If I'm not real then what does that make you?" Answers to the question weighed themselves silently between the two conversing; the truth of a lady hallucinating known to everyone. She was either crazy or ill if Pitch Black was pretend.

The Bogeyman paced around the table, stopping by her chair to grab the back of the chair over her shoulders. He turned her to face himself and eyed her up and down, admiring the way her skin glistened in the darkness, her eyes glowed in the night.

"I think you and I both know," Pitch spoke slowly, grabbed one of her fists in both of his hands. He cradled her tight knuckles in his palms before prying open her fist. He looked at the indents in her palms and lifted her hand so that she could see the damage she had inflicted upon herself, "That I am really here and I am really scary."

[positivelyrotg]

[spiritofsuperstition]

[Ok, so tumblr ate two of the RPs I had going on! Sorry for not replying, I'll get to it immediately!]

[themoontxldmeso]

❅ Remember ❅

mother-of-the-winter:

                                                          “… but… I… I never had a mother…”

Once, Julie would have laughed out loud, thinking that all of that was just a bad joke invented by a trickster that earned fun by saying those things. Maybe, she would have stared at him in disbelief, slightly leaning her head to the side, looking at him like he was crazy; maybe the same trickster would have burst into a laughter, saying he was joking. 

Maybe, once, in another time. 

Julie stood there, incapable of speaking, maybe made too tired even for saying something to him. He was unmistakably him. Even with those deep blue eyes, even with those pale skin. Even after all that time, after the tiredness of her eyes and the weight of her years on her back, she could still easily recognize her son. 

She watched every single movement in his face, the way his eyes widened, the confusion and the turmoil. She let out a light chuckle that seemed like she was about to choke. 

"Maybe… I mistook you for someone else…" she said knowing that those words didn’t feel like it, didn’t feel like they were barely felt on the tip of her tongue. She knew him… and though he saw in her a complete stranger. 

"Are you lost, boy?" she asked again, bowing her head so that she could not see his face. Maybe he was really someone else, incredibly similar to her son… but someone else. 

❅—- Jack’s skull was swimming with uncertainty and familiarity, something in the coldest cockles of his mind screaming at him to remember; remember. There was something so achingly familiar about her, about this place… but he couldn’t grasp it between his frigid fingers. The pain that crippled her features was a dagger in him, his body wound tight with the unfounded desire to help her somehow.

❅—- Lost? “..no.” He breathed, his dark brows creasing over his oceanic eyes. “..No, I…” He fought the inarticulacy, shaking his frosted follicles in an attempt to free his train of thought. This was the place he called home.. although he was only now realizing that he had no idea just why he called it that. Perhaps because this was the first place he could remember… where the moon had chased the darkness away. The first place he’d felt warm, and safe. 

                                                                      ❅—- …the ℓαкє..

❅—- His gaze snapped back up to the anguished one of the aged woman, his own brimming with fear and desperation. “…wait.” He started, “..are you saying… are you saying you recognize me? That you know who I am?!” Could it really be so? All he’d ever known was that he was Jack Frost. It was the sole piece of wisdom left to him by the Man in the Moon. If this woman knew something more of him—-!

[babyimadeitcoldoutside-blog]

It's a Small World

Our characters meet again after not having seen each other for twenty years.

Was this what if felt like to be crazy? Sure, that was probably a less-than-sane question in itself, but he felt it to be legitimate. It’s not like there was anyone to really correct him, let alone answer his questions, anyways. And wasn’t it just super that that was literally all Jack had— a plethora of unanswered questions. 

His most recent one was why he was currently wandering around in what seemed to be a graveyard. It probably should’ve been a shock that he couldn’t even provide himself with satisfying replies, but he’s learned to live with it. 

"Still giving me the cold shoulder, huh?" he sighed, directing the question to the dim light omitting from dense clouds, "You know, I probably could’ve come up with a way better name. I mean, ‘Jack’? Really? Give me some pizzazz, Moon Man. Maybe something like… Arthur. That sounds strong and masculine, right? Jason, Dexter, Harry— though that one sounds kind of wizard-y to me for not particular reason— Thomas…”

Honestly, Jack didn’t even view this as talking to himself. Because that would be crazy, right? Even so, as he continued to saunter about, he quickly cut himself off at the sound of other voices. They mere echoes, really, probably originating from the village a couple miles away. They filled the air with laughter and warmth, no doubt in celebration from the first fall of snow. 

He had made it a point to always visit Burgess on this same date, every year for twenty years. And at that moment, he remembered. Listening to the clamor, ruckus, and life, he remembered why he spent the majority of his time away from the people he had some indescribable connection with: all they did was hurt him. Jack worked his jaw, grip tightening against his staff, and fought to stave off the imprinted sensation of having a body walk right through him. 

"— to the pond! I want to see the pond!"

"Alright, but be careful, sweetheart.” 

From the hill he had found himself on, he had the perfect view of them. Children scampered gaily, recklessly, to his pond with skates in hand. They spent hours just playing there, building snowmen and giggling at the snowflakes that seemed to always land on their noses while they were in that particular area. 

Jack turned away. He never spent too long here, never allowed himself to get too attached to the people that never saw him. As he began to trek himself back down where he could find a breeze to carry him away though, that’s when he saw her. 

Usually, he paid little to no attention to adults. Not to be offensive or anything, but they were just a bunch of buzzkills, you know? And the woman before him was definitely showing all the same signs— straight, almost perfect posture, tightly clasped hands and tight frown on her lips. But, strangely enough, this isn’t what he caught his attention. What caught his attention were her eyes. 

Soft and dark, he could instantly tell that she was a mother. Jack gathered this from the way she was also staring down the hill, watching the children gliding across the ice. It was weird though— he wasn’t commonly accustomed to be ‘sympathetic’. In all honesty, he was probably as insensitive as they come (or an ‘insufferable gumby’, as Bunnymund liked to put it). Regardless of these points thought, he could almost feel the pain radiating from the woman’s gaze. 

She was looking right at him— through him— but it still felt as though he could feel her. He had absolutely no idea who this woman was, but he still knew that the shine in her eyes was directly reflected off his. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there. He simply watched her watch the kids down below, smiling when she smiled and laughing as she chuckled at the antics. Jack didn’t move when the woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an action that struck him as eerily familiar. He didn’t make a sound when silent tears began to fall from her lashes and to the snow. And he didn’t dare make a sound when she refused to as well. 

Eventually though, she turned away. Snow crunched with every step she took, the pace even and slow and breaking his heart in the gentlest of ways. He didn’t see the woman’s eyes close, nor did he notice the way she held her hands to her chest. He didn’t realize that it was sobs that made her shoulders shake, rather than the cold. And as snowflakes graced her short, caramel hair, he didn’t hear her whisper her son’s name against a breeze that swiftly carried it away.

The same breeze that Jack left upon. 

[frostbittensprite]

Jack’s vision came swimming back by the golden case’s fading light, clutched too tightly in his ivory finger’s bruising grip. What had only been seconds in Tooth’s palace had felt like years to Jack and her soft voice reaching out to him took longer to decipher through the white noise. “What did you see?” Her eyes that shined like excited, vibrant gems, suddenly felt lackluster upon meeting when all the immortal yearned for was the chance to gaze at the pair of eyes that embodied the warm Earth again.

  ‘Show me again’, his mind pleaded, ‘Just another look, one more time. She’s fading.’

  He clutched the trinket close to his chest without thinking as the haunting image replayed in the back of his mind, aching to memorize the women’s honey dipped voice, whose smile outmatched the brightness of dawn itself, and arms felt like the only evidence that home and safety ever existed.  For the first time in a long time, Jack felt every bit as lost as from the start of his journey in the dark– and although it reflected in his eyes, the frozen boy lived up to his old title of being cold-hearted, shunning away from the kind hand Toothiana outstretched due to his long silence and let his walls come forth.

“Nothing,” He forced out bitterly, tasting rime on the tip of his tongue. “I didn’t see anything.” The lies poured out in a steady stream while his defenses rose as quickly as the ice spread out underfoot. “It’s just an old piece of junk anyway.” He let the pristine case slip out of his hands to clatter on the tiles beneath them, turning his gaze away to save himself from witnessing what emotions took hold of Tooth’s face and hide his own.  

He left on the wind’s howling current before Tooth could utter another word.

[everheardofasnowday]

"I’ll wait here for you."

Jackson smiled at his mother and shook his head playfully.  "Oh, come on, mother," he said and laughed softly.  "I'm a big boy now!  You don't need to wait for me.  Go back in the house, do you really want to put that nice warm fire to waste?  It'll only take me not even half an hour."

[sayhellotofatherfrost]

"Merry Christmas, darling!" she said, placing a top hat on his head.

"Merry Christmas to you, too!" He grinned at her. "Thanks for the hat, dear. I have something for you to!" He frantically searched his pockets before pulling out a small wrapped gift. "Here you go."

[browneyedtrickster]

"Jackson Overland, if I come there and I find you playing THAT game, I'm going to shove your cellphone out of the window, I swear!"

   My muse won't sleep and keeps playing Flappy Bird all night, your muse hears them raging and screaming. How does your muse react and what do they do?

↳❅ Jackson grimaced as he heard his mother's voice, before he glared down at his phone, shaking it slightly, before he finally spoke.

                            "I've killed a lot of people, I'm a master of disguise and lies - but I cannot get this fucking bird to fly through this fucking pipe! God DAMMIT!" 

[emmabelievesinsnow-blog]

ooc:

I promise I’m not usually this out of character, and I’ll stop my babbling in these posts soon. But I just want to say that I’m making Christmas drabbles for you guys because you’ve been very supportive and kind to me since forever and I just want to somehow make it up to you!

[kozpitchiner]

♟

"You cannot protect her forever, Julie!" The Night snarled from the thick onset of moving shadows. Darkness was closing in on where Julie was, suffocating the light of her candle. The small flame flickered about and even though the spark remained adamant where it was lit the darkness soon prevailed and the candle was snuffed out. There was silence for a moment until the wind in the trees outside began to howl, and as Pitch Black paced around the circumference of the room he made his footsteps echo just as his voice would cascade over the walls. 

For the first time, the figure stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself visually to the mother. Never before had he graced her with the sight of himself, but he was about to make an offer that required a face. The moonlight descending into the window was all that was required to highlight the facial features of the Nightmare King, and in doing so the pale glow revealed Pitch’s earnest expression, “I wish you could.”

Sincerity marked the exposure of humanity that remained within Pitch’s mind, but of course the kindness stretched only so far as to be self-righteous. Looking about the room as if Pitch was seeing everything for the first time, he walked his way over to the table where Julie sat and took his own chair across from her. Taking the spot as though it belonged to him, Pitch leaned in over the table to whisper now so that he didn’t wake the sleeping Emma, “You think you can, but you know as well as I do that purity lasts only so long before it’s tainted. She’s not safe here or anywhere. She’ll be hurt like he was. I can help you though. I can make her stronger. She’s weak to the darkness for she’s merely a small light waiting to be smothered, but the shadows can become her strength if you’d just give her to me.”

Julie was shaking her head, confidently rejecting Pitch’s offer, but the smile on the face of Fear did not fade, “You have time to think about it, Julie. I know what’s it’s like to care about your daughter, to want to protect her from the bad. You believe in me though, Julie. That’s got to say something about our relationship here. You believe in me, and if you believe in your daughter as well then you’ll know that I’m best for her. You’ll come around, I’m sure. Trust me, all I want is for Emma to be strong enough to be safe, to be her own relentless power. She could be royalty in the Night, a vision of mastery.”

With that, Pitch Black stood up and backed away into the shadows, becoming the darkness that had closed in on the room. The last Julie heard of him was his a sadistic laughter depicting satisfaction. He was so certain that he would get his hands on Emma, so certain that she would either give in or he would take the young girl! And it was clear to the both of them that if Pitch took Emma then he wouldn’t be as kind as he could be should Julie comply. Julie knew what Pitch would do to the girl… Or perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps next time Pitch would have to make himself far more clear.

[golden-eyed-nightmare]

+ 5 Disturbed the peace. 

There were many things Pitch hated in this world, almost everything except from himself and thriving off fear, but, if there was one thing he hated more than guests, it was intruders. The Nightmare King narrowed his eyes at the entrance to his domain, golden eyes fixated on who or what might appear. He could feel a presence, and it was someone clearly not welcomed. As the shadow merged himself with the darkness he cautiously followed the stranger, waiting for his moment to... introduce himself. 

[browneyedtrickster]

"Don’t be afraid."

Looking up at his mother for a moment, Jackson never felt more afraid in his life. He hated the vulnerability of the action, and he let out a breath. "It's hard not to be." He admitted slowly. "This is all I've ever known.. Moving on.. it's going to be hard."

[shesnotcrazy]

Open RP for 4 new guests

Grabbing a handful of powdered bleach, Norman started to meticulously wash his hands making sure to clean the blood out from under his nails. The cuffs of his white button down were stained red as well as the floor. His mind rushed, his thoughts tripping over each other and the panic that was painted another hue of crimson. 

It wasn't Mother's fault she was like this...She just went a bit mad sometimes. 

But even then, he knew that murder wasn't acceptable. 

Hastily throwing all the evidence in a garbage bag, the repulsive red clung to it, beading and rolling webs of blood throughout the white plastic material. Suppressing the urge to vomit, Norman was about to go out back to rid the evidence when he spotted the customer. 

His voice died down into a nervous cordial smile as he tossed the bag to the side. 

"Uh, h-hi...Do you...Do you need something?" Norman asked shakily still standing in the doorway of the cabin.