tsuru_san: (animals: bunny sayz 'hi!')
[personal profile] tsuru_san
Oh, hello there! Perhaps some of you may remember me? Why, yes, I realize I've been on a long hiatus, ahem. Due to various things as always, but we'll see if I stick around more frequently in 2013... Happy Not-Apocalypse, btw. XD

So...Rise of the Guardians. It has kind of eaten my brain, lol. I don't if any of you have seen it, but I highly recommend going to the cinema and checking it out. Anyway, for the last week or so, I've been lurking in the Dreamwidth RotG kink meme and even answering a few prompts. Dunno if this will be of interest to any of my followers on this site, but here are the first two completed ficlets.

Title: If It Wasn't for the Nights
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians (with a little bit of book-verse in there too)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Summary: The Guardians won, the nightmares were defeated, and both Pitch and Jack are left to contemplate what they've lost.
Notes: Written for this prompt.

Both Jack and Pitch actually really want each other, but both are convinced they can't be together:

Jack because to embrace Pitch is to give up what he has with the Guardians, and besides, is Pitch really genuine?
Pitch because he won't be with Jack unless it's consensual, and he doesn't think Jack wants him back.

BUT, at night is when they think of each other the most, and it's driving them both nuts because it's really hard to live with the decision they've made, which both think is final.

+1 if you can work in a little bit of ABBA's If it wasn't for the Nights in the prose
+10 for still the sexual tension between Jack and Pitch still being totally unresolved at the story's conclusion


Jack is all white light and celebration in the wake of the Guardians' victory. He's seen and believed in now, and he has friends who look after him and care about him. He always thought this would be all he ever wanted.

So when the high of joy eventually falls, Jack is not expecting it. He's not expecting persisting thoughts of him, of Pitch.

At first Jack can deal with these little doubts well enough. It's so much easier for him in the daytime. He's so busy now. Appointments to keep, work to do—now Jack has to schedule winter. Heavens forefend he should interfere with the other Guardians' duties. It's enough to make the winter spirit roll his eyes—but only when the others aren't looking. Jack really does love being a Guardian, and he loves his new friends. If only he could stop thinking of friends-that-might-have-been.


Pitch flees to his lair once he is defeated and seized by his own creations, his majestic Nightmares turning on him. He beats them back though, these bastardized versions of good dreams, but it takes so long, and Pitch is so exhausted afterwards. He needs light to drive them away, but he's spent so long in the dark that he can't picture fondly the sun or moon or even the stars. The Nightmare King's "light" is very different from all that, and instead the only thing that Pitch can think about is shock white hair and a brilliant smile.

Pitch holds these winter bright memories tightly until he can stave off the Nightmares or bring them back under control. However, this method takes its own sort of toll as Pitch conjures up joyous dreams for himself of touches and laughter and snowflakes. And now he's coming undone in an entirely different way.

He imagines what it would be like if Jack had actually been beside him. A companion, someone who understands... At the time, Pitch had mostly been trying to manipulate Jack when he reached out to him in the Antarctic, but now in retrospect the Nightmare King realizes in despair that Jack's company really is what he wanted.


No matter where Jack goes, thoughts of Pitch follow after him and swirl just out of reach like stray shadows. From Moscow to Oslo, Jack rides the winds and tries to throw himself into his work. He sticks to the Northern Hemisphere, not wishing to head down south and not daring to set foot on Antarctica. Too many memories that are still too fresh.

The newest Guardian doesn't want the pain of dwelling on what-ifs, but to not think about Pitch at all seems equally distressing. Jack hates and fears the part of him that still wishes to reach out to Pitch, that longs for the dark king's embrace. Each night he replays their conversation in Antarctica over and over again to try to figure out if things could have maybe been different. The desperation in Pitch's voice had felt so genuine, but then Jack recalls how quickly the other had turned face and snapped Jack's staff. And so Jack Frost comes to the same conclusion every night: he could never trust the older spirit or be sure that his feelings were sincere.

Trying to stay focused, Jack spends weeks in Canada and the upper reaches of the USA crafting the perfect winter—beautiful but not too dangerous. The most intricate frost designs dapple the trees—North, Tooth, Sandy, and even Bunny praise his artistry. Jack accepts their complements with his usual charm, but his new found determination is less because he's dedicated though and more done as a distraction. All the same, the others' kind words warm him, and Jack's days are full of good friends and happy work.
But when night comes and the shadows grow long, Jack can only think of Pitch.


In the warmest parts of the world, Pitch hides himself. He wiles away his time in the eerie blistering heat and craggy landscapes of Arizona. The solitude here is relentless, just the way Pitch likes it. Ancient whispers of civilizations long gone echo in his ears, and their ethereal noises almost blot out the memories of a certain winter spirit's lilting voice.

In Egypt Pitch luxuriates in a different kind of distraction. Cairo bustles with modern energy and verve side by side with its ancient roots. Pitch dons a dun-colored cloak to hide his face from the sun and skulks through alleyways and dark corners, whispering in the ears of mortals. Old fears linger alongside the ruthless march of progress, and here Pitch is actually able to recuperate. He would need more time of course before he could grow powerful, but for now he is satiated.

If only it wasn't for the nights... Even the hottest places can have chilly nights, and when the breezes blow coolly, Pitch can think of nothing but Jack.


Jack's pond is cold and lonely. The winter spirit himself lies not far away, cradled in the softness of a snow bank. It's too early for winter to have so thoroughly come to Burgess, but Jack Frost can't bring himself to care.

His friends have finally started realizing that all is not well with their young compatriot. Jack doesn't want to talk though, and he brushes the rest of the Guardians off as gently as possible. Jack knows it's unhealthy to dwell, fixated, on decisions firmly made, but he can't quite help himself.

Jack rolls over in the snow, willing it to cover him like a blanket and block out the night...as well as the full moon that hangs almost accusingly in the sky.


Pitch lies alone in bed in the oppressive summer heat of southern Italy. The night is black—moonless. It would be a perfect time to go spread some nightmares, but Pitch simply doesn't have it in him. Restless and bereft, he thinks of Frost and how cold and sweet the winter spirit's touch would be on Pitch's too hot skin. But Jack would never want him; he had made that clear enough already.

In these longing moments, the fearlings whisper awful things. So what if Jack Frost doesn't want Pitch? The Nightmare King could always just take the younger spirit...

Some lingering flame of General Pitchiner, some shred of decency, shouts them down though, and the fearlings cower from Pitch and dare not make such lurid suggestions again. The fright of the Nightmare King's minions is a hollow comfort though when all he really wants is Jack.

But the night swelters and Pitch is alone, unsure if he is blessed or cursed in knowing that there's no chance of him running into Jack Frost in a place like this.


And another one also from the kink meme...

Title: Oblivious
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Summary: Perhaps Jack Frost really is better with children than all the other Guardians.
Notes: Written for this prompt.

Jack intuitively understands that the fairies are actually Toothiana's children, and is especially gentle with them as a result. He assumes the other guardians understand this too.

They don't.

Basically, I just want Jack being a sweetheart to these often-ignored munchkins, and the other guardians feeling rather silly that they never realized Toothiana's little ones were actually a part of her, more so than North's elves and yetis or Bunnymund's eggs.


Even if it hadn't been for his teeth and the memories they contained, Jack thinks he still might've eventually come to the Guardians' aid if only for the sake of the tiny fairies. The poor little things, pulled away from their mother and locked up in cages. All things considered, Jack truly admired Tooth's bravery. He doesn't think he could've held it together nearly as well had they been his children.

Despite everything working out well in the end, Jack still feels a twinge of shame for how quickly he abandoned the baby fairies—and especially Baby Tooth—during his first trip to Pitch's lair.

Jack likes to think he's made it up to the Baby Teeth now. When their mother isn't looking, he sneaks them cookie crumbs at Guardian meetings and lets the fairies cuddle in the hood of his sweatshirt. If Jack sees them out collecting teeth and they're not too busy, Jack makes a point to ask how they're doing, how was their day.

He holds them too sometimes, lets a fairy or two nestle in his hands while he gently pets their wings. Never for long of course lest they get too cold, but the fairies seem to like the attention, and Jack is very careful with them.

Way more careful than he is with the elves (which Jack likes to sneak up on and freeze) or Bunny's creepy walking eggs (which Jack really likes to sneak up on and freeze). Even the yetis are on the receiving end of the winter spirit's antics—though not too often since Jack doesn't usually tangle with creatures that can and will beat the crap out of him.

North mostly tolerates Jack's behavior, but Bunny is far more pissed off.

"Honestly, mate," the pooka grumbles one day, "why are you only sweet to the little sheilas, huh? I never see them getting a helping of your mischief."

Jack laughs, giving Baby Tooth a quick kiss on the head. "Well, the fairies are kind of a special case, wouldn't you agree?"

A grumpy glare. "No, no I would not. Don't see why you can't be that nice to our helpers."

Jack starts to laugh but then realizes Bunny is serious. "Tell you what," he retorts defensively, "if any of your eggs ever hatches out a mini-rabbit, then I'll be nicer. It's not like the eggs are your children."

North, who has been half-listening as he examines a new toy prototype, finally speaks up. "Jack, I am not following your logic. What have children to do with this?"

The winter spirit just stares in confusion though, and it is Tooth who answers. "The Baby Teeth are my children, North." So saying, she tenderly cups her hands around one and holds it to her cheek.

Jack watches with mounting amusement. "Did you guys actually not know that?" North and Bunny's shocked expressions are answer enough. Even Sandy seems surprised, sand symbols flashing rapidly above his head.

More barely stifled laughter. "Wow, you're really out of touch with children of every species!"

"Shut yer trap, Frostbite."

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