#glacier does calligraphy

[glacierinks]

hi there, love your lettering style!

whenever you get to it i like to submit "Progredi Vel Ascende" to calligraphers to see how it looks in different styles haha

and i do calligraphy under the blog "anothersojourner" but that one is a sideblog too, glad i found your work and i look forward to following along!

Thank you so much for this and for the request!

I am very much new to calligraphy, and it was fun making my own lettering style, I'm so glad you like it! It's really cool that you do calligraphy too! I went and followed you soon after you sent this ask!

I don't know, like, any latin, but from what I looked up this says something similar advance or ascend? I hope that's right!

[actual-changeling]

i know i just posted a 6k+ fic today but have this ficlet from aziraphale's pov as a treat before i disappear for the night.

@dancingcrowley a lil gift for u

-

In hindsight, it is entirely his fault for getting way too drunk.

"The... point?"

Crowley is looking at him without blinking, his head hanging upside down off the edge of the sofa, his legs hooked over the backrest, and it is either by pure luck or a subconscious demonic miracle that he hasn't slid to the floor yet. His wine glass is empty and has been for a while, probably since around nine when Aziraphale swapped his glass for the bottle and began pacing around the backroom with an increasing frenzy.

"Yes! The- the point of," he vaguely waves his free hand, unsure what exactly he is even referring to, "of it all."

Another swig of red chases the dryness out of his throat and causes his next words to tumble out of his mouth like a glacier-fed waterfall in early spring.

"The point of being here, like, earth, you know?" Crowley does not, in fact, know, that much is obvious from the expression on his face, but he shifts around a little, and that's good enough for Aziraphale.

"She put me in in in the SKY, and then there was WHOOOSH heaven, all white and empty, and suddenly, oh, look, humans! Humaning like, like rabbits or something. All doing things."

Emptying the wine bottle takes him less than a few seconds, heat rising to his cheeks and blushing down his chest, and Aziraphale briefly considers taking his waistcoat off when Crowley flings himself upright and slithers into what can loosely be called a sitting position. In reality, it is closer to what you would get if you put wet spaghetti on a dollhouse chair.

"There's no point, angel," he says, sounding vaguely bored, and maybe it's his growing disinterest; maybe it's the apocalypse that should have happened two years ago but didn't, maybe it's the fact that Aziraphale has been thinking one too many times about the last time God had actually talked to him.

"There fucking HAS to be a point, Crowley. There has to be! Otherwise, what's the- why would I- there wouldn't be a reason to-"

A reason to do good except to be kind, but he could live with that. He can live without knowing Her plan or being able to return to heaven, he can even live without ever hearing Her voice again, not that the last few millennia have ever offered any of that to him.

No, the point is, and Aziraphale has a point, he is sure of that even as the room begins to spin slightly, the point is that if there is NO point, there's no reason to deny himself anything.

...fine, not anything.

Crowley. Without a point, he could have- THEY could have- but they can't because there is a point.

"I just- just can't see it," he finishes out loud, uncaring that Crowley has not been privy to the argument in his head.

"There is a point," Crowley repeats, his voice dipping into a tone he knows from late-night dinners at the Ritz and casual temptations. In the low, golden light, his face is half-covered in shadows, and he sprawls across the sofa like calligraphy drawn with watered-down ink, flowing apart at the seams.

Or maybe Aziraphale's just way too drunk.

"There's a point."

Falling back into his armchair and coming close to immediately sliding onto the floor, Aziraphale tries to settle down and returns the bottle to its place on the side table. Maybe he should sober up and steer the conversation into safer waters, but he is still busy chasing one last question around his head.

What would we do if there wasn't a point?

Who would they be, then?

Crowley is already who he would be, always has been, and the parts of him that aren't are anchor points of the red thread weaving between them.

The real question is who he would be, and the truth is that he already knows the answer.

He feels Crowley's gaze on him, his eyes glinting amber in the relative darkness of the room, and Aziraphale looks back, chews up the bitterly familiar answer on his tongue, and swallows it like he always does.

"Hungry?" Crowley asks, already grabbing his shades from between the cushions.

Aziraphale lingers for a second, watching the smooth flex of his muscles as he pulls on his jacket and the tip of his tongue when it darts out to wet his bottom lip, but he smiles when Crowley turns back towards him with raised eyebrows and concern tight on his face.

"Starving."

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Life Wasted

Azula Week Day 1: Childhood

Summary: Azula has trouble coming to terms with that she didn’t really have a childhood and struggles to see a future for herself.

She is surprised to get as many visitors as she does, Azula could have sworn that they would stick her in this horrid place and forget all about her, leaving her to her own nightmares and personal horrors. Somehow they don’t forget her. Somehow they find it within themselves to pay her visits now and then. Sometimes they come with specially prepared meals other times they come only with stories and company.

Azula wishes that she could appreciate it. Wishes that she could push her resentment aside. She wishes that they would just leave her to suffer and fester in her shame alone. It is bad enough having them around to see her like this, to make their judgments. But they have to bestow her with stories about how great the outside world is, about how they have all accomplished so much.

They do so until she one day snaps at them to stop bringing her news. She expects them to stay away from then on out. Instead they come back with tales from the past.

TyLee’s childhood is bathed in shades of pink. She was never alone and was constantly at the tailend of a braid chain. She always speaks of laugher and gossip and trips to the berry fields. Of coming home with smeared cheeks and stained clothes.

Mai’s childhood was more subdued, lonely. But when her parents came home it was warm. They would take her onto their laps and read her stories about dragons and courageous Fire Nation warriors until she begged for a blade of her own.

Katara and Sokka both have frosty and cold childhoods but in the most dreamy way. They both recount different aspects. Sokka tells her about fishing and hunting trips with his father; about adrenaline spikes and hiking around glaciers. While Katara paints a more domestic image in her mind; the smell of cooking fish and firepit smoke. Of heavy coats and fur rugs.

Toph’s childhood was sheltered but exciting when she could sneak away. It was full of adventure and mess. Of tussling with the boys in alleyways and knocking on strangers’ doors and running before they can get to the door.

Aang’s was serene. Otherworldly and mystifying. His childhood makes her stomach ache with longing the most. He speaks of how all of the children were raised side by side. Every adult was a mother and a father to all of them and each child was a sibling to the next child over. Before he found out that he was the Avatar he was never alone. He would munch on pastries and and have glider races.

And Zuko’s...she knows about Zuko’s and she doesn’t want to hear anything of it. It is as unforgiving as her own but in such a different way.

She wishes that she could have had a childhood. Maybe she wouldn’t be this way if she did, if she had been allowed to be a child for just a few years before being thrust into the war machine. Maybe if she had hours of running wildly through the palace garden instead of hours of training and katas she would be less of a weapon and more of a human being.

She stares at her palms, trying to recall even one moment where she had been a child. Just one that isn’t tainted by undertones of political speak and warfare. But she can’t find even one. Even her fondest childhood memories are either followed by something awful or had war in the background.

On one occasion, a golden day on Ember Island--she had convinced Zuko to help her swipe some mangos from a fruit cart just to test their skills. They had snatched one and darted off to climb a palm tree and hide as they tasted their prize. Father found them with sticky mango juice smeared around their mouths and dripping down their chin. That evening they were dirty, disgusting miscreants and he was ashamed to be their father. That night there was no trip to the beach to collect shells and build sand castles, they were locked in their rooms listening to mother and father argue; “they’re children, Ozai! Children do that stuff, let them have fun!” “They have duties to their nation, they are better than other children.” Zuko blamed her for getting them in trouble with her stupid idea and she blamed him for talking too loud and getting them caught.

On another occasion she found herself sitting at the edge of the turtle-duck pond, kicking her feet at the shimmering waters, the sun reflecting on its surface. In one had she held a calligraphy brush which she was using to paint random doodles on her legs. In the other she held a loaf of bread which she was biting into, paying little mind to where she was nibbling on it. She was quite and out of the way so no one paid her any mind. Which is probably why they so openly discussed how triumphantly they had slaughtered Earth Kingdoms soldiers on the battlefield.

Such are the types of memories her childhood is sprinkled with. And the more she thinks on it, the more she realizes how truly and deeply imprinted the war is on her mind. She doesn’t think that she knows anything else but battles and punishments.

She remembers when her mother stopped loving her. When the woman realized that her baby had already been claimed by propaganda and a sense of patriotic superiority. Azula wishes that the woman would have done something more to keep her from succumbing. From falling so deep into the indoctrination.

She remembers when mother had told her that Lu-Ten had died. That was the night that mother stopped loving her. When mother realized--before anyone else--that something was very wrong with her. That was the night when her father had told her just how proud he was of her.

She was finally the weapon he had been craving.

And now she is broken. The remnants of a once mighty war machine. And in a world without war, she doesn’t have much use. She supposes that it is just as well that she is stuck in this institution. She can’t see herself doing anything anyways. Can’t seem to think up any other purpose for herself.

They mistake her low for recovery. She no longer yells and screams and demands that Zuko and his friends be sent away. She is simply indifferent, it doesn’t matter if they are there or if they aren’t. It doesn’t matter if their happy childhood tales make her tummy tingle with sorrow and longing. Nothing matters. She doesn’t matter.

She had wasted her childhood. Now she is wasting her adolescence. Her life is a waste…

Zuko grips her shoulder. Her blank eyes don’t lift from her palms. Not until he helps her stand and leads her out of the institution. She questions his decision but decides that she can’t be bothered to stir up any trouble anyways, so his decision won’t really leave an impact either way.

“I think that it’ll be good for you to get some fresh air.” Zuko comments. “We’re planning on taking a trip to Kyoshi Island and I thought that you should come with us.”

She furrows her brows, “why would you think that?”

He shrugs. “I guess that I want us to both have a few memories that are just...nice.”

She doesn’t think that this is it.

“We can’t exactly make good childhood memories, but we can do this.”

Azula nods.

“I also thought that it would be good for you to start to...get back into the world so you don’t fall behind.”

“I already have.” She mumbles.

He gives her back a little rub. “You’re not too far behind. Nothing we can’t catch you up on. And besides, we’d like your input on certain things. There’s this new city in the making and we think that you’d be good at helping us plan and fine tune it. You’re good with details.”

“What does that have to do with Kyoshi Island?”

Zuko laughs, “nothing. Kyoshi Island is just going to be a break before we really get into it.”

“I’ve already had a break…”

His smile falters but only for a moment. “I guess that you have. But I’m talking about a real break, Azula. Something that could be fun for you if you’ll give it a try.”

She supposes that, at this point, she is willing to try anything to get rid of the despair and helplessness that has taken root within her soul. “It would help more if I can just have a look at this city. I need something important to do. Something that matters.”

“You will be doing something that matters on Kyoshi Island.”

“Oh.” She quirks a brow.

“You’ll get to have a good time and learn about some new cultures. And you’ll get to watch me struggle with awkwardness. The last time I was on Kyoshi Island I...did some things…”

“How is that important?”

“Because it’s about your health and you matter. You know that, right?”

“Important to who?”

He gives her a gentle hug. “Believe it or not, you’re important to me. And as soon as the others see that you’re not a completely mean and angry person…”

“I’m not angry.” She thinks that she has only ever been angry once, during the comet. Mostly she is just numb and unfeeling. Cold. And maybe that is worse than having a temper. At least a temper can be cooled…

“Trust me, this is going to be good for you. I can’t fix our childhood bet we can make something of the future.”

She doesn’t know if she believes him, but she would like to. At least she is out of that facility. At least she can get back to firebending and relish in freedoms to be rediscovered. He smiles again and she decides that the least she can do is humor him. Either nothing will change at all and she will continue on in her melancholy or he will be right and she will pave herself an adulthood that is warmer than her childhood ever was.

[oh-take-this-longing]

LFRP: Adelaide Azmerien

Adelaide is closed-off, introverted, and a bit uncomfortable in her own skin. She seeks to fix the last problem by pushing herself to the limits and mastering the art of swordplay. She is proud, cynical, and always dreaming of running away from her responsibilities (and never doing it). She is an Ishgardian noble and red mage duelist. 

THE BASICS –––

Name: Adelaide Azmerien

Age: 33

Nameday: 28th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Race: Wildwood, Elezen

Gender: Female

Alignment: Neutral

Marital Status: Distant and unattached

Server: Balmung (Crystal data center)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE –––

Hair: Long and dark red, Adelaide has naturally curly hair that she desperately tries to keep straightened as she finds her curls too wild and uncontrollable. And Adelaide does not like having any part of herself uncontrolled.

Eyes: Adelaide has eyes the same red as her hair and her lips.

Height: 73.2 (6′1″)

Build: Adelaide prides herself on how fit and trained she keeps her body. Like most elezen she is tall and willowy naturally, but she is also quite strong and graceful. Because Adelaide wants everything about herself to appear ‘just so’ and silently revels in appearing somewhat unapproachable- she also stands with perfect posture, head held high, shoulders back, and back straight.

Common Accessories: Adelaide always has a sword on her-- even when her family complains that it really ruins the mood of a party if she’s standing there in the corner with a sword at her hip. Most commonly it is a rapier, but she trains with multiple types of swords and can occasionally be seen with one of those. She also commonly wears a simple, but elegant, ivory ring that marks her as a duelist in the not-entirely-legal dueling circle she’s a part of. She frequently has a pocketwatch that she looks at (quite often) during parties and wears white wool coats with big buttons, elegant gloves, and exceedingly well-cared for and clean boots. Recently she has taken to wearing lovely ribbons in her hair when she is not dueling. She has nothing much to say about these ribbons other than “they were a gift”.

PERSONAL –––

Profession: Adelaide’s “profession” is doing the accounting and paperwork for her House. It’s a job that frustrates and annoys her. She also keeps herself busy by teaching wealthy children sword techniques and calligraphy (which she insists are very similar fields of study).  Never spoken of in public is that Adelaide also fights for the “honor” of her family by partaking in underground duels when the Azemerien House (rather infamously an unpleasant group of wealthy ne'er-do-wells) runs afoul of another noble house. It was discovered rather early on that Adelaide, who did not have the charm or inclination to rise in the ranks of social popularity, did have an impressive ability at fighting. Doing what they could to shrug off the fact that the eldest daughter of the House had intimidated every potential suitor and was a sighing, irritable wallflower at parties-- her family has since found a use for her by getting into fights and having Adelaide finish them for them.

Hobbies: Exercise/training, maintaining a winter rose garden at her estate, calligraphy, learning new styles of swordplay, collecting books of poetry, attempting to learn various forms of music (and failing miserably at all said attempts), feeding birds and fish.

Residence: Adelaide lives in Foundation with her rather large and very unpleasant family.

Birthplace: Ishgard

Patron Deity: Halone, the Fury who she reveres enough that she’s named her chocobo “Glacier” with the explanation that Halone is known for ‘moving Glaciers’ and so she might as well be known for the same.

RELATIONSHIPS –––

Spouse: Adelaide suspects that she will never be married. Her family doesn’t love that.

Children: See above.

Parents: Adelaide does not get along with either her mother or her father. All the same, she feels it’s her responsibility to set that aside and do what is best for the family.

Siblings: Adelaide is the oldest in the family. She has 4 younger brothers and 1 younger sister. Her youngest brother is very sickly and requires a lot of expensive care that her parents and other siblings do not seem interested in dealing with. This brother and his affection for the rest of the family and her affection for him is the reason that Adelaide does not just leave though she frequently fantasizes about it. 

Other Relatives: She has two uncles, one who has recently passed away (of rather mysterious circumstance). That uncle had a daughter, Adelaide’s cousin Koriah Azmerien, who ran away from the House when she fell in love with a hyur named Lysander in Limsa. She is missing and presumed dead, but before she vanished she asked the family to take care of her lover’s younger brother, a boy named Evander ( @dumb-hat ). Though Adelaide and Evander did not spend much time together, she none-the-less considers him family (even if the majority of her family absolutely does not.)

Pets: Adelaide loves all animals but particularly loves fish and birds. She has an aquarium of fish and, while she does not own any birds, she often buys seed and feeds wild ones.

TRAITS –––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––

Smoking Habit: Nope.

Drugs: No

Alcohol: Adelaide doesn’t care for most alcohol simply because she’s seen her family act disgracefully when inebriated. But she does love wine... Particularly Suhd Viandja,

RP HOOKS –––

Righteous Riposte Adelaide has the most pride in her fighting ability and will always accept a challenge for a duel. Perhaps you have found yourself on the wrong side of her horrible family (very easy to do) and have been challenged by House Azmerien to a duel. If that is the case, it is Adelaide that you (or your cavalier) will face. Or perhaps you’d like to learn to learn sword styles from an Ishgardian instructor? Adelaide can do that too.

Eat the Rich: Are you playing someone who wants to steal from snooty nobility? Well, Adelaide’s family is a perfect mark for that. Adelaide, herself, looks like a good mark for it too. 

Fighting for a Cause: Adelaide would be more than happy to work as someone’s bodyguard or assist in plots to protect Ishgard that might benefit from her skills.

High Society: Adelaide does not like to be flustered, so the best kind of RP will do exactly that! She can be at any fancy party wishing that she wasn’t. Even if she’s standoffish-- I’m not! I will happily engage in RP.

Talk to her at all: If you want to RP with her? YAY! I like that! I want to RP with you too, I bet! We’ll work it out.

CONTACT INFORMATION  –––

Contacting me here on tumblr or finding me in game is the best bet. If you see Adelaide out in the world, please say hello! I’d love her to make more friends (or rivals, depending on what you think would be fun!)

I do have a Discord and I do enjoy RPing on it. I don’t give that information out right away though. I’d like to interact in game or through tumblr a few times before engaging in that way.

I have craaaazy work hours. I work the night shift M-F. That means that I’m on very early in the morning and sometimes in the late afternoon/early evening. I’m usually not on very late unless it’s a weekend.

Notes –––

Ahhhh! I’m so excited to meet new characters and players! Adelaide wants to be cold and aloof-- but that’s probably not fun to RP with for long... so I promise she will open up and there will be silly moments. Frankly, it wouldn’t be much fun for me to play a character that is just wholly unpleasant 100% of the time.

[noirewrites]

Shipping Jelsa

The Man of The Moon is an ardent Jelsa shipper. How does he convince his old friend, the Spirit of the Ahtohallan, to ship Jelsa too?

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians + Frozen

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Jack Frost/Elsa and a pair of random ships we mnade on JHaven Discord Server

For @victortky and @ariddletobesolved

Ahtohallan knew one thing for sure.

 Had Manny been on Earth, she would have frozen that round face of his and made it the best  exhibit of her temple.

Then again, his face was too round to be showcased — it would just roll away and knock down the icy pillars, something she was sure she would regret.

 It wasn’t everyday that one of your girls rebuilt your entire house in just a matter of 15 minutes, was it?

 The Mother Spirit had been relaxing in her freshly-reconstructed home, the ice glimmering around beautifully as Nokk rested beside her. It was all calm and serene — Northuldra and Arendelle were at peace, the bridge between humans and magic finally restored. The Spirits were happy to get their missing member back in the family, and Nature was finally at peace.

 No more siren cosplay, no more singing. Just peace, calm, serene —

 A light, cold tingle on her cheeks had made Ahtohallan turn her icy-blue gaze to the entrance. A few autumn leaves fluttered in, as the cool air brushed against her face and tickled her again, her snow-white hair with blue highlights flowing lightly behind her. Giggling, the regal woman waved her pale hands lightly, whispering, “There, there Gale, I know you are happy to have found the final Spirit family member.”

 The stray leaves rapidly circled her head for a moment before sifting out of the place. Sighing, Ahtohallan let her gaze travel around her home again, before settling herself down on the  oh-so cool  ice. Nokk moved over to wrap himself around her and with a soft smile, Ahtohallan rested her head on its belly, petting his mane as he whinnied in delight.

 The soft neighs of Nokk, the light tingles from Gale and the overall peace had relaxed her so much that it wasn’t long before golden sand filtered into the glacier. With a happy smile, the Mother Spirit allowed the dream magic to work upon her, lulling her to a much-needed peaceful sleep.

 A peaceful sleep that was interrupted by the stupid man with white and blonde hair who had decided to ruin her peaceful Spirit life.

 It was first the strong beam of moonlight that hit her eyes. She merely turned around a bit, burying her face in Nokk’s soft and comfortably damp fur.

It hadn’t been two minutes of enjoying the new darkness before —

 “Knock. KnockKnockKnock. Knock. ”

She ignored it, a soft sound of irritation escaping her lips.

 “Knock. KnockKnockKnock. Knock. ” Came the sound again.

Taking in a deep breath, Ahtohallan sang slowly to herself.

“Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show— ”

 Only to be interrupted by a cacophony.

“DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOWMMAANNNNNN?~~ ”

 Letting out a nearly frustrated growl, the woman pushed herself up and glared at the platinum blonde man who peeked at her from the roof, his cheeky grin reflected in the glacier as multiple images.

 “Your voice doesn’t match Anna’s at all, you know that right, Round Face?”

“Well then My Liege,” Manny chuckled, “ JUST LET ME INNNN~~ ”

 “Ugh! Go away Manny!”

“SHOW YOURSELF GLACIER LAD— HEY! ”

 Ahtohallan could feel Manny’s glare on her through the extra layer of ice she had added on the roof.

“It seems like you have been spending a lot of time with Dyn, haven’t you?” she teased him, a smirk on her face for she knew he couldn’t see her clearly — there was only a sliver of moonlight that was able to pass through the roof.

 “Maybe I am,” came his sing-song voice, before it turned to a teasing lilt and Ahtohallan could imagine the smirk he wore. “I guess someone’s all jelly-jelly~~”

“I AM NOT! UGH!!” Ahtohallan nearly screamed, stomping her foot in frustration.

“Well, well, whatever,” Manny said nonchalantly, “Aren’t you being a lot in Liv’s company too, Glacier Lady?”

 The Mother Spirit glared at the roof, attempting to burn a hole into it from her anger. However, knowing it wouldn’t work, she let out an exasperated sigh, waving her hands around to melt the additional layer of ice she had created not a few moments ago.

“I would rather prefer for you to state your business fast and scurry off to your weekly twirling around Earth, rather than eat my brains for your nightly snack. Come down here and then, let’s get this over with.”

 Moonlight beamed into the icy premises of the glacier, and specks shimmered in it, slowly coalescing together to reveal the form of a tall man, his posture regal and wisdom shining on his visage.

 Well, the wisdom lost its lustre thanks to that cheeky grin that was stretched on his lips.

 Ahtohallan gawked for a minute, before lifting a shaking finger at the man, “You—you—”

“Yes me?” the man, Manny drawled, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

 Ahtohallan took a deep breath, then nearly screamed, “WHY THE ICE ARE YOU IN AGNARR’S FORM?”

“Umm, ‘cause you look like Iduna?” he said, shrugging.

 “But—But that’s how I actually look!” Ahtohallan said, clearly exasperated. “You are supposed to look like a tiny, round old man! Not like, like—”

“A dashing, handsome royalty?” Manny offered, smirking, only to sober up at the icy glare he received.

 “UGH!” Ahtohallan harrumphed and stomped her foot. “You are just...just incorrigible!”

“Is that a compliment? I guess I will take it as a compliment.”

 Ahtohallan facepalmed and then asked in a frustrated voice, “What are you here for again?”

 “Oh right!” Manny said. “I heard you just got a female fifth spirit, one with ice powers?”

“I did. So? Is it wrong?”

“No! Everything you do is right, my liege,” he winked and then continued, “I have a male spirit, and what a funny coincidence that he has ice powers too! So, I was just going to propose that—”

 “No.”

“But why?”

 “Because your shipping attempts have always resulted in disastrous consequences, Manny.”

“I beg to differ! And I swear this ship would be the best!”

 “And why do you think so?” Ahtohallan asked, checking her nails.

“Well, they have cryokinesis powers to start with.”

 Ahtohallan looked up at the man, her eye twitching a bit. “So?”

“SO?” Manny said out loud, his jaw dropping open. “You ask so? C’mon Glacier Lady, they have freaking cryokinesis powers! As in ice powers! I-C-E ICE! Have these confines frosted that beautiful brain of yours? You should come to the Moon someday to get some fresh air!”

 “Is that—” Ahtohallan spoke slowly, her voice dangerously low, “Is that some weird way of yours to ask me out?”

Manny started tapping his fingers nervously, “I guess?” he squeaked nervously before masking the embarrassing tone with a cough. “Well, that’s not the only reason I have for shipping them, you see.”

 “Oh really?” The Mother Spirit raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Enlighten me then, my old friend.”

 Furnishing a scroll from the inner pocket of his coat, Manny presented it to the Ice Spirit. She took it with confusion and opened it, her eyes going wide at the beautiful calligraphy etched onto the yellow parchment. 

 ------------------------------------------ It’s a very long fic, so I am just going to link the AO3 site here! Plus, you can find the pact that Manny is talking about on this Tumblr post :D

[glacierinks]

Sorry about being gone so long, this is a hobby blog so not something I'm gonna be up to doing all the time, and school is really something else lately.