
Fur balls know better 3Blue eyes fluttered open, the smell of fresh grass and chocolate wafting into a perky nose. Jack stretched in the nest he was sleeping in, sunlight entering through the round windows. For the last few weeks the guardian of fun had been visiting the Warren practically every day and Aster had just blurted out he might as well move in. Jack took it seriously and that day he refused to leave, the Pooka opting for giving him one of his spare rooms so he wouldn't stay sulking under a tree about him not keeping up his own offers or some bluff like that, not because he was worried about him being comfortable or anything, of course not.Fur balls know better 3 by ~hanashize
Even though h

Of falls and capesI’ve always had in mind what the hell happened to Jack’s cape before he got his hoodie, and suddenly this wormed its way into my mind and Ta-Da! Awfully short and bad written fic, also, taking in account a review I got from another fic, this time I decided to respect laws of nature about seasons in the different hemispheres—I’m South American so it kind of annoys me to turn around seasons when writing something that happens up there, but whatever. Enjoy losing your time with me!Of falls and capes by ~hanashize
……………………………………………&helli

Fur balls know better 2E.Aster Bunnymund wasn’t the kind of person…or anthropomorphic animal…or whatever, that took shit from others.Fur balls know better 2 by ~hanashize
If someone got on his nerves, he told them exactly what his thoughts were, if he wanted to be left alone, he damn right better be left in peace, if he wanted someone to get away, he made sure to get his point across.
Don’t be mistaken; he loved his family—or at least he considered the other guardians to be so—and friends, and there was nothing better to him than being surrounded by happy laughter and a warm environment of people. But sometimes enough was enough, and everybody understood that.

Fur balls know betterAutumn was so boring.Fur balls know better by ~hanashize
Resting his back against the trunk of a tree, Jack Frost, the eternal young, spirit of winter blew a chilly wave of air through the bangs over his eyes, tapping the ground with his staff, producing intricated frosted patterns on the solid earth.
Gazing over at the frozen pond he called home, a warm smile spread over his face at the sight of the kids of Burgess skating and playing over the eternally frozen surface—Jack had taken care of that himself, making sure to freeze it to the very bottom so his story wouldn't have to be repeated; he didn't want for Jamie and Sophie to have a similar fate to that of his and his sis