There's nothing to fear but fear itself.

Affiliated with String of Fates Faculty Dorm H-1 Studies in Horror Teacher

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[ineffablyevilss]

Moon? Shadows? A petty squabble if he’d ever heard one. This sounded a little bush league compared to what Crowley was used to. Though to be fair, he was certain that anything would seem minor considering that he had all of Hell after his skin during the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t. 

More surprising than the Moon-Shadows fight—which wasn’t terribly surprising at all—was that Pitch hadn’t heard of the Pit. He wouldn’t have expected the Boogieman to be religious or anything, but everyone knows what Hell is. Perhaps Pitch had simply spent too much time under a bed. 

“I guess my Side would be closer to your shadows than the moon. Granted, Hell’s more fire and sulfur than anything.” 

[bigblackpitches]

Pitch grins at Crowley's response. He assumed such is true—that this man was aligned with fear—based on the fact that he nearly just ate live rodents. That's not something most goodie goodies would do. And when the man mentioned Hell, Pitch's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Ah! That Pit! Yes, I've heard of it—I've even utilised it in a few Nightmares when it comes to the Christians, as that's often their greatest fear. I just wasn't familiar with that particular term."

He smirks, then creates a black flame from the sand. Fire and brimstone and suffering. Sure, a little intense for Pitch's tastes, but it gets the job done. Plenty of fear soaking through the ground from down there.

"Well, it's an honour to meet a representative of the Down Below."

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[ineffablyevilss]

It seemed that the Boogieman’s mind was fickle and changeable. Just moments ago he seemed ready to leave, and now he was acting all chummy. Certainly not just because Crowley knew who he was, right? Although a part of him did suspect that it was a bit unusual for an adult to recognize him—even kids tended to stop believing in that stuff around 7 or something if Adam Young was anything to go by. What was more dodgy was that the Boogieman was out in broad daylight. Something to inquire about later. 

Crowley looked down at the hand and then back up to its owner. He cocked a crooked smile before taking the other’s hand in a firm shake.

“Anthony J. Crowley, Representative of the Pit.” As well as the Serpent of Eden, the Influence of the Original Sin, and one part of the team that Stopped the Apocalypse. He liked to brag, but even a flash bastard demon like himself wasn’t daft enough to lay all his cards on the table. 

[bigblackpitches]

Ah, so he's speaking to a celebrity as well. Pitch isn't exactly familiar with this Pit, but it sounded quite important a title. He grins a toothy grin when the other grabs his hand, and almost decides to shock the hand in some way—perhaps with a shadow scorpion—but decided against it. He's had enough of pits, after living in one for so long, and would rather not be banished to the Pit by some representative.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I can't say I'm familiar with this Pit, but surely it plays an important role in day-to-day life."

He pulls back his hand and shapes a tiny Fearling.

"Are you a friend of the Moon? Or are you more accustomed to the shadows?"

[havealittlefuninstead-blog]

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[ineffablyevilss]

Crowley had the common courtesy to be surprised, if only for a brief moment. He glanced down at the snakes—which were apparently made of some type of black sand—as they tried to chase the mice. Granted, being in a small brown paper bag didn’t give them much room to move around. Interesting. Despite the rough tussling that was clearly going on in there, Crowley held the bag as if it weren’t much of a disturbance. 

“Not sure I want to continue after you’ve gotten your sandy bits all over them,” the demon said warily, raising a hand above the opening. He made a circular motion and sent the snakes Down Below for close inspection. Sand. A stiffy for Fear. Crowley had an idea of who he was dealing with here. Though unintentional, the Anti-Sandman had already given the serpent most of what he needed. He only wished that it was always this easy to get Abnormals to reveal themselves. “Rather than tormenting my meal, don’t you have children to scare, Mr. Boogieman? Or, should I call you Namahage? We are in Japan after all.”

[bigblackpitches]

"Ah, so you know of my work?"

Pitch grins and clasps his hands behind his back. It's not often that people know of him this soon—not before the terrifying nightmares, at least. And children are much more likely to infer who he is when he appears, if they believe in him. Adults, of course, hardly ever see him.

And teenagers are a horror. A large number of them insist that he's a troll that's been stuck at home or something, and that's simply not true. Not at all.

"Pitch. You may call me Pitch, if you'd like. It's much easier than any of the other names people use to refer to me, after all."

He turns around and reaches out a hand.

"And you are?"

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

[ineffablyevilss]

The mouse’s poor little head was only a few centimeters away from getting swallowed whole when a voice grinded the movement to a halt. Crowley lowered the animal back into its bag and glanced over to the source of the voice. Now, where did this man come from? Maybe “man” wasn’t the right word, this Thing was clearly a Not-Human.

He was disgruntled. Put off. Miffed. Even a little irritated. Crowley had to spend his time at Tancho getting info for the Adversary, and he had to continue doing it off campus, too? Hell help him, why couldn’t he just eat mice and watch Betty White? Resigning himself to another session with an Abnormal, the serpent wiped his hand against his suit and turned to his intruder.

“I’m not sure how much I like ‘adorable’. Think I fancy ‘marvelous’ or ‘stunning’ better.” He’d take Flash Bastard over it, too, honestly. 

[bigblackpitches]

"No, why would you—"

Bloody hell, now the mouse is relieved. It believes the whole thing was just a trick, a ruse designed to make it cower for no reason. There goes that delicious fear. At least for now. Pitch shakes his head and nearly spits in disgust. He's not committed. That's it.

"Quite frankly, I don't care either way what you might fancy. I thought the sight to be adorable, and the fear radiating from that rodent was delicious. But now you've cut it off, so I don't have a reason to be here unless you're going to continue."

He gathers up a bit of black dust and sends it in the bag to continue the terrorisation of the rats. And the fear is back, but it's not nearly as strong as before. The serpent-shaped Nightmares are no match for an actual, near-death experience.

[ineffablyevilss]

IT WAS A GIVEN

that Crowley was one who easily gave in to his cravings. He was a demon and if it was his job to tempt people into doing Bad Things, then it made sense for himself to do the same. Bad Things, that is, not tempt himself. 

Right now the only thing he really wanted to do was liberate some mice from the local pet store.

And eat them.

While watching Golden Girls. This afternoon there was supposed to be a rerun of the episode where the girls try to raise a pig for $100,000. 

Getting the mice was simple enough. All he had to do was convince a sad, pissed guy that making a scene at a pet store was a reasonable way of getting back at the girlfriend that left him. It’s unbelievable how easy it is to steal anything when the cashier is tied up with a petty hooligan. 

And so Crowley strolled out with a brown paper bag of a dozen mice, all scurrying inside trying to scuffle their way out. Frozen mice were easier to deal with, but he definitely preferred the fresh taste of live stock over microwaved products. He shoved a hand into the bag and pulled out a terrified white mouse. 

“Hallo, darling,” Crowley smiled A Little Too Sinisterly. Surely having a taste now wouldn’t be so bad, right?

[bigblackpitches]

Pitch could smell it from a mile away. First, the slight fear from the cashier as some random man berates him about something over which the former had no control over. That alone, the random chaos, would've been enough to draw him in. But there was something else. Something much more delicious. Someone—or something—was much more terrified than the aforementioned cashier.

So he follows that delicious scent from out the pet store, ignoring the fear-turned-annoyance. The terrified squeaks of an innocent animal reached his ear, and it was perfect. But it wasn't just one. No, it was many. Ten, perhaps twelve, more little mice trying to escape their inevitable ends.

"How adorable."

His vision focuses on the one holding the terrified creature. He's dangling the rodent over his mouth, readying himself for a meal. Oh, he could feel the vegan screams from here.

[bigblackpitches]

Now Pitch Has Killed the Dream I Dreamed — SoF Open

Pitch has grown tired of waiting and 'playing nice'. He needs to act, and he needs to do it now. Sitting around, corrupting dreams... it's just not enough for him. So he's formulated a plan. After gathering up a large amount of shadow dust, he starts to model and sculpt and form. And, after a while, he's created many pitch black tigers, ready to pounce and spread fear in their wake.

But the tigers come at night With their voices soft as thunder As they tear your hope apart As they turn your dream to... fear.

He nods ever so slightly, releasing the feline force upon the halls, and grins as he watches the children fall back from the force of the fear mauling their childhood. When each collide, they explode into clouds of dust, sprinkling the victim's eyes and tossing them into a nightmarish episode the likes of which they've never seen. And it's all so very delicious.

"And now Pitch has killed the dream you dreamed."

[bigblackpitches]

[bigblackpitches]

Can You Feel the Love Tonight? Nah — SoF Event

Pitch absolutely hates Valentine's Day and all the associated traditions. There's nothing worse than love-struck teens near-floating from the absolutely repulsive bliss they feel when their ~*~one true love~*~ gives them an insignificant card with canned responses on it. And the flowers. Fear, those bloody flowers seem to turn the air into a toxic wasteland of pollen and disgusting scents—not that he's much affected by either, as he's long dead.

But these annoyances are the very reason he decides to attend the Masquerade Ball, not as an honoured guest nor as a chaperone, but rather as an annoyance. A saboteur, if you will. He shrouds himself in darkness, adding very tasteful and elegant alterations to his standard robe, then places a black mask on his face.

"Let's see how scary things can get, shall we?"

And with that, he sneaks his way into the dance hall. Well, he apparates through the shadows, but the feeling is one and the same. And then he starts by shutting off the lights.

"It's bedtime, children. And this time Sandy won't be around to help!"

[sharingan--blog]

✇001 ||He's not going to do his homework

He’d been trying hard these last couple of days. Trying to keep up with the classes he’d thrown himself in, and also trying to make nice with the people that he’d be around everyday. It was that he cared; no, of course not. He was Sasuke Uchiha. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else or what they thought of him. He just realized that it would be easier to get along in this school if he didn’t hate every single thing about it.

It was proving to be an incredibly difficult, if not impossible, task though. Not to hate anyone. Sasuke was keeping to himself, observing everyone else, and with just that, he already knew that there were more than a few people that were… annoying, to put it lightly. No one was catching his attention. No one he wanted to even acknowledge. And without meaning too, he’d already ignored many who had tried to strike up a conversation with him. 

The young Uchiha sat outside the dorms, at a picnic table. His algebra 2 book lay open in front of him, along with a notebook. He tapped the paper with his pencil and leaned his cheek into the palm of his left hand.

Why was he doing this? He couldn’t remember the reason. He couldn’t remember if there ever was a reason. Maybe it was a subconscious need for stability in his life. Back there… there was so much going on. So much that he had found out. He shook the thought of his head and looked away from the blank paper in front of him, focusing on the green grass and on the people making their way to their dorms or their classes, or wherever it was they were going. 

[bigblackpitches]

This school is so boring. Why he took a break from his exciting job of scaring children to become a schoolteacher is beyond him, especially considering he has to convince people to see him before he can actually teach. It's a bloody hassle, every last bit of it. And teenagers are much harder to scare than children; they're far more reasonable and logic-oriented.

But regardless he tries his hardest. After all, if he gave up completely, he would fall back into the rut in which he festered for so many years, brooding over the fact that the Guardians had so many believers. It might convince him to do something... drastic. Again. What he needs now are allies. Some people he could convince to join him in his scare tactics; some people he could exploit to spread the word of the Boogeyman's existence.

He figured this unsuspecting child doing math homework would work well enough. He creates a large enough amount of dark sand to cover the area, then forms a black cocoon around the two. Some of the sand is made into whip-like projections, which lash out and knock the books into the shadows, into which they disappear.

"I don't really want to do too much work to get his attention. Perhaps I should start with his deepest, darkest fear."

[bigblackpitches]

[titusflatchestxius]

❝Hmm? Would it be that bad to free him? I’m sure being locked up in the moon is a miserable life he’s leading.❞ Give Titus the chance and he could probably do it, having powers akin to a legendary entity had its quirks. By sharing the same rukh meant he had all the same destructive power like hers but there were times he always felt like she was much more stronger than him. Then that would take up a lot of his magoi and it was such a risky move, since if a magician or anyone else used up too much they could die on the spot.

Titus couldn’t remember the last time he had a bad dream, at times reality set itself to be the worse dream of all. Though he wouldn’t voice that aloud since explaining himself would give too much effort.

❝Ahhh!! He must have thanked you for it! So since it’s been a millennia, that means you’ve been alive for more than a millennia? That’s a really long, long time.❞ It was interesting, those life spans, and even that friendship. Things like that lasted that long, he couldn’t believe it?

❝Well the qualifications have to be good ones, from what I’ve seen, he’s chose a spectacular person! There’s so many things that could be done, and you don’t know a bit of what it could be. Makes everything very mysterious, but one day I’ll find out?❞ As he watched the other look out the window, he must have missed his friend or something, how long had they been separated? What a sad feeling. ❝Is he going to appoint you as one, one day?❞

[bigblackpitches]

Pitch grins and intertwines his hands behind his back.

"Yes, you could say I'm an old geezer. But I look pretty good for thousands of years, don't you think?"

He's kidding, of course. There's really no point being vain when you're dead. Or when very few people can actually see him at all. There's no one to show his looks off to, so all his physical appearance is pretty much natural.

He's heard himself described as like an impending storm, which is pretty cool.

"Mystery is what makes life exciting. There's always something—or someone—waiting around the corner, waiting to pounce and change the world as we know it."

Most of the time it was him, but that would be very bad for his good-guy image.

When Titus asked about Pitch's possibility of becoming a Guardian, he merely shook his head and chuckled.

"Nah. Not only old friends, but also old rivals. Constantly challenging and bettering each other. That's why I won't hold my breath until I'm appointed Guardianship."

[bigblackpitches]

Not Your Average Snowballs — SoF Open

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

[Of all things, however, it was possible that his efforts would have been met with an appreciation - nothing pure, but it remained a possibility all the same. He hadn’t failed to take into account the distress that would have inevitably accompanied a stronger experience of fear, but something stronger might have actually been able to do something for his memory, shake up and stir old, scabbed-over memories. Had that been the case, he might have genuinely been grateful for the attempt, but… What happens, happens.]

[Besides, he’d long-since given up trying to do something in the case of his blotched mental record: to start now, so far gone from the start, seemed only silly.]

❝I reacted in that I didn’t - at least one thing could be said about failure to react, surely…?❞

[Appearing to have made a swift recovery from the ordeal (mind continued to itch, but the sensation had since died down), he then offered a shrug: not a gesture of indifference, but more so one offered as to invalidate his own words. As the one figuratively on trial here, chances were he had little - if any - right to question interpretation. Whatever.]

❝Should it serve as any consolation, I could alter that initial reaction. Revise it.❞

[bigblackpitches]

"No reaction isn't a reaction. Freezing up in fear is a reaction. Staring blankly in horror is a reaction. Not showing any notable changes is not a reaction."

Pitch was completely ready to just leave this guy alone. There's no point hanging around if there's not going to be a reaction to the daymares on which he's worked so hard. It was frustrating, really. He thought he'd perfected the technique, that the dark snowball would completely paralise the person with their greatest phobia. But noooo, it can never be that easy, can it?

After all, how does one scare a fearless man?

"And no, a false reaction is also not a reaction. I don't feed off of the scream. I feed off of the feeling, the physical fear. Yours was more of an apprehension, a confusion."

"But hey, I'd love to stay and chat, but you're of no use to me at the moment. I simply must continue working on these fearballs. I wouldn't want another bland reaction like yours.

No panic can be started with no reactions."

And with that, he begins packing another fearball, trying to fit as much sand in a tiny ball as he can.

[athingforthevillains]

Pitch and Onyx. Gif made by me (please don’t steal). ((Movements by Jude Law.))

[bigblackpitches]

Not Your Average Snowballs — SoF Open

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

[The return to the present was more gradual than the return to— to that scream. Regrettably. Arguably. Still, at the end of it all, he was unable to deny that this experience was anything new: in recent times, these brief ‘black out’ periods were so infrequent as to be virtually non-existent; in earlier times, meanwhile, such interruptions were far from uncommon. Exposure to the same thing over and over again had numbed the sensation, he supposed.]

[Of all people, though, he surprisingly seemed to be a good sport as regards to the manipulation - not so much the projectile to the face, but he had the decency to recognise this as… - how best to phrase things? - ‘the carrying-out of duty’. If the target hadn’t been him, no doubt it would have been somebody else anyway. As though having woken up from a long spell of sleep, the subject first has to blink a couple of times so as to allow vision to return, stretch old joints. Mind still itched - and it likely wouldn’t stop doing so any time soon - but body, by and large, recovered by the time he felt ready to rise to the challenge.]

❝…Nothing, as lacklustre a reply that may be. Auditory hallucination may thus be of more interest to you - but even then, it leaves much to be desired.❞

[Despite himself (on the count of both his usual behaviourisms and his situation), he almost afforded a smile. That said, it wouldn’t have been anything other than a smile tending towards bitterness, but that there had been at least the possibility of some degree of humour said something regardless. In the place of the smile, he’d bowed his head, oddly apologetically - and without too great a sense of irony, too.]

❝It almost saddens to me to admit that I’ve had some time to foster some sort of…tolerance to these things, mm.❞

[bigblackpitches]

Well that's just great. This is why he doesn't invade the dreams of adults. Either they're too brainwashed by society to react correctly, or they're used to everything. It's absolutely horrible. What's the point of scaring if there's no reaction?

"No. No, of course you have. I should have expected as much. Adults are so bland that way."

  He sighs and turns around, getting ready to walk away and leave this man to his personal, hidden daymare. There's no point in staying if there's no reaction to feed off of.

"You didn't even react. Most people at least flinch, but you only leaned forward slightly. How absolutely bloody boring you are."

Note to self: Don't waste black sand on any adults. Especially not adults who already look dark as it is.

Only children, he guesses. They're the ones that give off the most fear outwardly.

[bigblackpitches]

Not Your Average Snowballs — SoF Open

[nachtlieder-deactivated20140716]

❝…Herr Black—❞

[…And no sooner had he made a move to grant that just-in-case response attention than he practically seized up. Lips didn’t so much form even the shape of the words that were to follow as they did quiver gently instead. He’d frowned, too, again only slightly, but for some reason or another did he appear quite unable to hold it. All activity, all body language was interrupted; even after having been suspended in movement for several seconds, however, the cause for this all had, at that time, yet to be discerned.]

[The scream returned then. No: to say that it continued would be more accurate, for without any forewarning did the noise resume where it had been left. With neither apparent rhyme nor apparent reason.Whilst body remained frozen, mind buzzed away - and had that first sensation in the well been remembered even vaguely, the present could have very well been likened to it, for better or for worse. Eyes remained open, but vision was out of the question, that which had once stood clearly before him having been replaced by…nothing. That was it: just a— a vague blackness. For what felt to be an age, there was just the scream.]

[Eventually, peace - at least in the form of a momentarily still mind - returned. Continued. Whatever. During this time, his head had lolled forwards lazily. Chances were his entire body would have followed had the involuntary moving of his head alone not jolted him out of the trance.]

[bigblackpitches]

So they do know each other. Pitch remembers now; his name is Märchen. Well, that's marvelous. He just wasted a fearball on someone who can already see him. On someone he doesn't even need to convince to see him. Oh well. At least he gets to watch the other squirm.

But that's the thing: he's not used to daymares. When people experience Nightmares, it's obvious. The sand above their heads are corrupted into black, and they squirm when they otherwise wouldn't. But during the day, it's much harder to tell if someone is experiencing fear. Everyone shows it differently, after all—some may scream in terror while others may remain as stoic as a statue.

Märchen seemed to be the former, save for a momentary period of confusion and near daze, he didn't even appear affected by the sand. If Pitch weren't paying attention, he might've missed it.

"Tell me, Märchen. What do you see?"

How intriguing it will be to hear the fear from the point of view of the one experiencing it.

[lostiel]