~call me Misty~

I made my first mood board for my first fan fic! I have no idea if anyone will even see this but I’m proud.

“What is the fan fic, misty?”

Well I’m glad you asked, voice in my head! It’s a Bernard the Arch Elf (could have sworn it was Head Elf but AO3 says otherwise) x OC that starts between the second and third Santa Clause movies and will eventually go through to the end of the third one.

The summary I am currently working with is:

Gale is the faerie daughter of Legendary figure Mother Nature. She’s an ancient being with powers that move the air and wind with the wave of a hand. Why, then, does the Arch Elf have to babysit her during her visit to the North Pole? Especially when her visit is to do with coming-of-age duties her mother won’t stop going on about… and what could any of those duties have to do with the meddling and unkind Jack Frost? An almost star-crossed love story between an overworked Arch Elf and a troublesome faerie girl.

I’ve been trying to get into writing more and would really appreciate feedback, support, a community, etc.

I hope that I can find it here and am not just calling out to the void.

If you are interested in reading my story Something In The Air, I am bad at technology and am attempting to link it with this post. If this link and myself are failures, you can find the story on AO3, titled Something In The Air, under the pen name AmidstTheMists.

You, a troublemaker, have a chance encounter with Buggy when he and his crew raid the ship you’re on.

You were always the jokester on your ship. The rest of the crew tolerated it, but jokes were your bread and butter. As a pirate, the days were long and the work was hard and you’d be damned if you didn’t keep yourself amused with silly rhymes, one liners, snarky comebacks, absurdisms, whatever you could come up with, really. Usually you were responded to with a roll of the eyes, a suffering sort of smile, even silence, but sometimes you said a real zinger and got the crew to come together in laughter. Those were the best times. But you enjoyed some of the less tolerant reactions too. You found a particular enjoyment in being a menace.

When your ship was taken over by a group of theatrically inclined circus pirates, everyone in your crew was certain they would all be dying in strange, unusual, and possibly theatrical ways. That was what you were prepared for, too. And, sure, it was unfortunate, but at least the lighting was sure to be great and your inevitable demise was sure to be creative. Being a pirate, believe it or not, was often very tedious business unless you were actively in the middle of some mischief. Dying sucked, but at least it would be interesting and keep you occupied.

And your good humor, much to your captured crew’s chagrin, was there to keep you company until the theatrically inclined circus pirates figured out what to do with the lot of you.

When a certain clownish pirate captain made an appearance, sauntering around the deck of your ship as if he owned the place, a member from your crew elbowed you hard in the ribs and warned, “Better not be planning any funny business.”

If your hands weren’t already raised in surrender with the rest of the crew, you would have put them up defensively. But a mischievous smile was playing on your lips as you said, “Who knows what I’m planning?”

“Who said something about my nose?!” Captain Buggy’s voice was so loud that everyone jumped at the exclamation.

Your eyes moved over the fine yet intimidating figure that was the invading clown pirate captain. His outfit was flashy and makeup was unapologetically clownish. He moved with a grace and confidence that belied the outrage he clearly felt over a comment on his nose. You realize that he must have been insecure (and, overall, overcompensating) for something, but what really got your attention was the frown that defied how his makeup stretched into a smile. His makeup begged for him to smile and, aside from whatever insecurity he harbored, he looked like he could take a good joke. It would be a shame if he couldn’t take a good joke, after all, since he was, in fact, a clown.

Everyone averted their eyes when he stared them down, shining blue eyes roving over each member of the crew you belonged to. Everyone, that is, except you. You looked back at him, unwavering, an amused grin on your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” He questioned, taking a few lumbering steps over to you. He was so tall and moved with such unique grace, such intense purpose.

“What? People can’t smile when they see a clown anymore?” You asked back, daring to lower your hands only to be jabbed in the ribs again, this time by a member of Buggy’s crew. Your hands darted back up into a surrender, but you rolled you eyes as you did it. “I thought that was, like, the whole point. And, anyway, you should think about smiling more. A frowny clowny is a little bit of a contradiction, I would think.”

Buggy advanced until he grabbed ahold of your collar and said, head cocked and inches from your face, “Well, Captain Frowny Clowny is a little pissy-wissied because some fuck-twat should have kept their mouth shut instead of talking about something that wasn’t their business. And, come to think of it, I could have sworn that voice came from your direction. Do you know anything about that, princess?”

You could feel his breath on your cheeks, could feel how strong his hand was, and wondered in equal parts what it would be like to be kissed by someone like him and what it would be like to be thrown overboard by someone with such enthusiasm. When you smiled again, his eyes flickered to your lips before darting back to lock gazes with you. He was impatient like a man but as feral as an animal in his intensity.

“I do.”

“Oh, really? Pray, why don’t you share with the class what you know?” If he was an animal, he liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you and you knew that he felt them too: the captive audience for his performance. But he didn’t know that you liked an audience, too.

“All I was saying was—“

“—so it was you who had something to say. Why am I not surprised?—“

“Hush, I’m not done.” Your voice was a little choked from how the collar cut into your throat, but you pushed on anyway, smile as unwavering as the rest of you. “All I was saying was that why are you so upset about your nose when you have so much more to worry about? I mean,” you wheezed out a giggle at how the expression on his face changed, “I mean, you have twice as many eyes as you do noses and you’re acting like your nose is your biggest problem. What’s up with that?”

“What?”

“And don’t even get me started on your ears.”

You and Buggy stared at each other in silence. The whole ship seemed to be holding a collective breath. Your smile settled into a closed mouthed, triumphant smirk, and when he looked at you like he was trying to read another language, you wiggled your eyebrows. Then, just when you thought he was going to throw you overboard after all, a smile broke through the clown’s determinedly fierce looking scowl and you two started to laugh together.

He released his grip on your collar, smoothed down your shirt, and slung an arm over your shoulder. “You’re not half bad, princess.” He started to lead you away from your crew. “You know, I’m feeling generous.” He looked to his crew, “Take the loot, take whatever you want, but they get to live. Go crazy. Let’s give them some stories to take back to port about Captain Buggy and his dastardly crew.”