#pitchjack

[larunchig]

sorry, I didn’t come up with anything more interesting (I didn’t come up with it, but somehow implement it .... well ... yes!)

[justmike-lucifer]

Photos by Zukomi Walker (https://zuzuphoto.tilda.ws/)

PitchBlack by %Null%

JackFrost by me (linktr.ee/JustMike_L)

help&support behind the scenes: Erein (https://linktr.ee/erein0 )

video-backstage from the photoshoot:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8k5nH_o7uIk&ab_channel=NoHomoTriangle

[kayla-cute-frost]

once again i found this in my old phone’s gallery. if anyone has the full comic pls message me here or my instagram or comment below

[vortexstyle]

Rise of the Guardians - Pitch & Jack (2012) Old Fanart.. I like them both-:)

◆ Full img - https://blog.naver.com/devilloo/20173026862

[exoqenises]

.

[nyuzzz]

Happy moments

[fantomn]

The Ice Prince (Chapter IV)

(On AO3)

Marie Overland did not wake in the morning. Emma was curled against her side, red faced and puffy eyed, clutching the Queen's sleeve as she slept. There was a fire roaring greedily in the hearth, and mother and daughter both were covered in thick blankets and deer hide. Jack sat in the corner with his head in his hands. Frost crackled at his feet and trickled away from him in little melted streams, following the lines in the oaken floor. It had been nearly a week since he'd brought her into the castle. Six days of herbs, potions, poultices, the castle Healer trying to break her fever and still the shaking in her hands with gold dust and horse's blood and witch hazel and spells. When she was awake, she often hallucinated that she was back home with their Father. Emma refused to leave her side, even though her Mother's delusional muttering and cloudy eyes obviously distressed her. Jack stayed in the corner. His mother began to tremble whenever he came too near, muttering about the unnatural chill. 'Oh, Darling.' She would say, as though speaking to the ghost of her late husband, 'it is so cold. Do we have wood enough for the winter?' "It's not winter." Jack snapped, on the fourth day, banging his shepherd's crook on the floor. "Stop it and get better!" And Emma had cried. She clung to her Mother like a leech, wrapping her tiny arms around her body, tugging at her clothes. She hid her face in Marie's long brown hair. She wouldn't look at Jack until Marie was sleeping again, but by then her brother was moping on the other side of the room, inaccessible to her. He'd become an impenetrable wall of ice. "Don't leave me alone with him." Emma whispered into her Mother's ear on the fifth night, while Marie's eyes stared unfocused at the cloth hangings on the bed. "Please, Mother. Please." But Marie said nothing, that night. She closed her eyes to sleep, and her breathing stopped by sunrise. So, Jack had the Healer executed. "I am a Prince." He said, voice muffled by his frigid fingers, as he sat in his chair by his Mother's fire, after she'd been taken away. Emma was still sitting on the bed. She'd been bawling all morning. Her face was red and swollen. "A Prince should..." Jack lifted his head. A shadow seemed to be over him, as though he were huddled in some deep cave, instead of touched by the sunlight from the small window. "This is unacceptable." Emma started to cry again. Quietly. Jack couldn't bear it any longer. He rose from his chair and swept to the door, cape dragging heavily behind him, and left.

Emma moved into their Mother's chambers. The servants were so sweet to her, they let her do anything she liked. Jack didn't mind. He watched from the staircase as a mousy young girl brought Emma trays laden with blackberry wine and tartes surrounded by wildflowers. Jack knew he had failed. He wanted to feel weighed down by it, grieved, consumed by his mistakes. He wanted to be plagued by memories of his Mother, and to weep for her. But he did not. He stood alone on the stairs, catching glimpses of Emma lying heart-broken in Marie's deathbed. And there was work to be done. Summer had bent swiftly to harsh wintery storms. The crops were buried in snow. Farmers dropped to their knees before him when he held audience, begging the castle open it's stores to them. Jack hadn't a clue how to handle them. He'd never been in a castle before last week. He barely knew where his own rooms were. Jack wasn't sure how long his own food would last. He didn't know what to do about the peasants. And Emma was all that mattered, all he had left. He was concerned with her interests alone. She took little pleasure in being a princess. She refused to eat in the Hall, taking all her meals in their Mother's old room. She was constantly asking Jack to let her go outside, even though the snow piled higher each day, and the people in the streets agitated at the gates and flung things at the walls. "It's not safe." Jack would tell her, and she called him 'mean' or 'boring' or 'terrible' or accused him of being a changling, depending on her mood. She didn't understand what he'd done for her.

When he had been the Prince of Burgess for two months, they'd started calling him the 'Ice Prince' to his face. It made him wonder what they called him in secret. Hail banged the stain glass windows in the throne room, lightning cracked the sky. The sun was only ever a feeble, yellowish stain on the crisp blue sky and the lakes at the castle's feet dashed constantly against their shores, churning up foam in the cold winds that blew from all directions. The trees were stripped bare. Everyone knew he had magic. Sometimes, Burgess' citizens banged sticks against the castle gates shouting 'Sorcerer!' and demanding an end to the early winter. Jack sat alone in his cold castle, most of the time. He had dismissed many of the servants for annoying him, boring him, whatever. Sometimes he swore some of them left of their own accord, escaping over the drawbridge in the night, because they knew he wasn't paying attention to their numbers anymore. He felt numbed through. His sister played in the dead garden, in the stables, and in her room, with a handful of little Lords and Ladies. Jack wasn't sure whether or not she was getting happier. He used to be able to sense her moods - when she was getting tired walking down the forest paths, when the heat from the always-blazing fire in their little house and their Mother's constant coughing was stifling her. He used to know how to fix it, what to say to make her smile and laugh again. But he didn't feel like smiling, or laughing, the way he used to. So, he sat alone. And so did she. "The peasants must starve." Jack declared to his council, one dark and foggy evening. He had been served a cup of warm mulled wine, but it had iced over before it touched his lips. "The castle's coffers will not be opened." His council was very small. He never took their advice. He hated them. He hated being a Prince. He hated meetings, and signing documents, and the people who hurled themselves at the castle walls demanding he help them, because he couldn't, he needed to help Emma. He'd never had so much responsibility in his life, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't even do the things he used to, anymore. He wasn't even sure where Emma was at any given moment during the day. She seemed afraid of him. His cup shattered, shards ricocheting off the hangings and the sides of the chairs, careening into the robes of the people sitting at his table. Snow whirled around their heads. Being inside with Jack was no different to being outside in the always brewing storm. Suddenly, with a bang that made him jump, a child sprang into the council room. "My dear -" Started a councilwoman, putting down her goblet. "It's Emma, it's Emma!" The girl shouted, dropping to her knees, watery eyes fixed on Jack. "She fell. We were only playing!" Jack stood swiftly. "Where is she?" He demanded, but his voice came out hoarse. Wind whipped his hair, burnt his cheeks, but he didn't feel it. "Daeda." Sobbed the girl. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know we're not allowed. But, she begged us, everyday, Your Majesty." Jack grit his teeth. "But where is she?" "She fell. She fell. She's in Daeda." Jack felt. He felt so strongly, his entire body shook like a dying leaf on a branch. The windows went dark. Ice formed so thickly over the table, a councilmen's hands were stuck fast to the surface, and he shrieked like he'd been burnt. "WHY HAS NO ONE TAKEN HER OUT?" Jack screamed, fisting his fingers in his hair. The girl couldn't speak through her tears. By the time her voice worked again, Jack had run from the room, and the councilman with the frozen hands had collapsed on the floor, palms bleeding. "She drowned. She drowned. She drowned." The young Lady wept, "I'm sca-a-red."

He hadn't been able to retrieve Emma. Daeda, Berdart, and Tilyanna froze, and became ice fields. The clouds that hung over the Kingdom thickened and darkened impossibly, until they were as black as night, spitting ice and snow that buried the town and the market and the taverns, and the signs that advertised pyes and soppes and ale in the evenings. Those who lived in the castle - cooks, handmaidens, stable-hands, Lords and Ladies of the council - gathered in the courtyard where Jack stood, wrapped in his storm, dry-eyed and tight fisted, and surrounded him. Knights held swords. The butcher gripped a ferocious looking knife, his face red as rare steak. They made a ring around their cursed Prince, and meant to kill him. When he turned, backed against the wall like a shivering rabbit at the mercy of the hounds, each of them froze solid. Just like that. Burgess' population had lowered dramatically since Jack had become the son of the King. In the hours following Emma's death, it dropped to one. Jack had made himself more alone than he ever could have imagined.

[f-imaginings]

Teaming up.

[larunchig]

Ваще эту фигу я накалякал ещё в апреле, но се то как-то раньше опубликовать у меня эт не получалось. Странно? Согласен.

[kayla-cute-frost]

i found this a while ago. i remember it was from a comic of an account that i believe got deactivated. if anyone knows where i can find this comic or if they have it pls comment below or message me here or at my instagram @ kayla_cute_frost 

[emboardom]

I just have a lot of blackice feels okay?

[muuutant]

Me and Sammy at Pitch/Jack or Jack Black as it should clearly be called

[f-imaginings]

When your enemy is kinda hot.

And you know you shouldn’t be thinking that…

But it’s not like anyone is gonna find out!!

[larunchig]

. . . . Well, in general, I can do better, but this is my maximum. .

[szpetota]

Valentine's Day

Short fiction about Jack and Pitch celebrating velentine's~ ( Human!AU c: )

(Sorry 'bout my crappy english and grammar mistakes, I'm still learning.)

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

Pitch hasn't got the slightest idea what he was doing there.

Joyful song resounded in his ears and he had unpleasant feeling that he still had some serpentine left in his hair.

- Why are you so dreary, Pitch? - Jack glanced at him ironically with adorable smile on his face. - Chill, we are on a date, aren't we?

- May I take your order, please? - waitress dressed in red, heart shaped at neckline uniform came to their table, spreading brocade with every move.

- No, thanks...

- Strawberry cocktail. With two straws.

- Erm... - girl scribbled their order in notebook, then leaving in hurry. Pitch looked up at Jack.

- What are we doing in this place? - he asked, staring at all that red sash, ubiquitous amours and rose petals gracing tables and chairs in restaurant.

- Celebrating valentine's day of course. - Jack just shrug, but Pitch wouldn't give up.

- Can we not?

- “Can we not” what?

- Can we not...celebrate it like this? - Finally Pitch was able to disentangle scarlet serpentine from his hair.

- Well, we can always come back home and have some rough, kinky sex. - Pitch smiled widely, ready to leave the building right in the moment.

- But cocktail's first. - Jack added, putting red straw into his mouth, and killing all hope that Pitch had left.

[skotya]

IAMX – Bernadette