jack frost

Cold bones creak and strange beasts cry Watching shadows in the sky

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[jacksbite]

What's the warmest you've ever been?

"That’s actually a rather difficult question for me to answer, until very recently I didn’t really know warmth, cause I couldn’t really feel the cold. Now though-- it’s like I’m always cold. Blankets, hot chocolate, fire places, big sweaters, I’m told all those things should make you warm but--”

“None of 'em are as warm as that cutie I ran into. He was hot.”

[jacksbite]

xrebornfromxashes:

Feeling sluggish, beads of sweat dotting his upper lip, Jago threw himself down onto one of the few partially unoccupied benches facing the monorail tracks and fought back a sigh of relief. Since relocating to Las Vegas, he’d encountered death twice—first, a mugging on Jones Boulevard; a wrong place, wrong time kind of deal; and lastly, a hit-and-run; that one he’d earned—leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. He’d never given death much thought before now, dismissing it as a necessary evil; to be reborn, one must first die. But how was he expected to die —willingly, without hesitation or concern—now that he didn’t even know how many lives he had left to claim? If he took that gamble, the probability of loss would be astronomically high. Was it really worth it? That would be a big, fat no. Sitting there in drearisome silence for what felt like an eternity, Jago pushed awkwardly to his feet as soon as he caught the telltale sign of the monorail’s arrival—damn thing could be heard from a mile away. 

    But so did everyone else.

             In fact, their reaction to its arrival could be likened to a standing ovation.

Tempted to hang back and let the fools scuffle over the best seat, it wasn’t long before impatience took root, and with squared shoulders and a set jaw, Jago hustled toward the opening doors, weaving through the crowd as he quickly and steadily worked his way to the front line. 

     It simply didn’t pay to dawdle, not when one’s own comfort was on the line.

Just as he crossed the threshold, however, cold briefly collided with hot—and, his skin breaking out in a shiver of goosebumps, he jolted at the touch, surprise momentarily halting all movement. 

             His own body temperature had a tendency to run a little on the high side, so—naturally—that brief nip took him by surprise. 

                 A problem easily remedied if given time. 

Ignoring the disgruntled frowns tossed his way by those forced to veer around him, a chuckle slipped out before Jago had even realized it, amusement overshadowing surprise. “I get that a lot.” Accidental touches often earned him looks of astonishment and curiosity. “You, on the other hand … ” His voice trailed off as he got his first real good look at the man. 

    Looker was an understatement—how about pulchritudinous?

Only if he could pronounce it … maybe.

“You could benefit from a hot water bottle in your life.” He could maybe even melt the icicles dangling from those poor eyelashes. Now there was some food for thought.

   What an anomaly.     How could time seem to still when such a river of eager commuters swirled around them? Discernment came all at once, as pieces of the puzzle snapped together that had always been present but suddenly fit, exposing in the bigger picture true epiphany. Fireplaces, thick-knit throws, and streaming mugs of joe were all concepts that in theory he’d understood — all comforts craved in the cold — but he’d never truly comprehended why they held such universal appeal.       Not until now. Not until he knew heat.       However brief— Before (when the cold hadn’t bothered him) it hadn’t been warmth he knew so much as a lack of feeling cold. It’d been an immunity, a natural adaption to survive his own existence, a miraculous necessity, like the science of a polar bear’s fur. His internal temperature had never been reliant on external ones.                                 He’d never imagined heat would feel both relaxing and stimulating. “I’m sure you do,” Jack replied, surprised how naturally the response came but mostly way too mesmerized to detect how blatantly his icy irises swept over the stranger’s comely face. Someone’s elbow jabbed into his back, jarring him forward and temporarily shattering the illusion.            He was back on the train, standing in the personal bubble of a hot stranger.            Jack swallowed, a strange heat registering in his cheeks.            Was he offering? Lips quivered from straight lined to a small smile. Cheeks burned. Hands wallowed in over-sized sleeves, fingers fidgeting with loose threads around the makeshift thumb holes, fighting the desire to reach out. “You’re probably right, only one little problem- ” eyes locked, searching, searing, screaming for answers and remaining silent all the same: he wasn’t human, but neither he suspected was Mr. Too Hot To Handle. “I tend to freeze the water.”

[jacksbite]

@xrebornfromxashes​

It was frigid. Again. Wasn't the desert supposed to be hot? Hah. Newsflash, it got cold, at least at night. If it wasn’t for the emergency need of blue paint (he’d entirely run out) he wouldn’t have left the house. With the wind nipping cheeks red and the tailored jacket not quite big enough to properly huddle in, Jack picked up the pace, weaving in and out of the throng of slowly wandering tourists -- clearly inebriated enough to take the cold -- heading towards the monorail. Maybe he’d find some warmth there. The fact that it was improbable (lately he was cold even when he should have been hot) didn’t stop his progress towards the train station, nor did it stop him from purchasing a ticket or taking shelter on the platform by a large animated advert (selling some tooth whitening nonsense) as he waited. Fingers drumming impatiently across cold denim, Jack let out a breath of relief when the monorail arrived, darting towards the opening doors with a new yorkers attitude of just pushing his way through without concern-- at least until heat flared up his arm.  

The shock of the unusual burn (not at all unpleasant) startled a jump, he jerked around, the wintery blue of steely eyes seeking the source of the first warm thing he’d felt all day. “You’re hot,” he croaked, surprised and taking a full second to realize the unintended implication, true or not. “To the touch,” he stammered quickly, blinking. The flush perhaps all too telling.

[vanillasweet]

picspam (1/?)  → jack frost

“I’ve been around for a long time. My name is Jack Frost. I love being on my own. No rules. No responsibility. It’s as good as it sounds.”

[aestheticschaos]

[ethmoids]