This is an archive of what was formerly an independent rp blog of Pitch Black and Kozmotis Pitchiner, played by the mun guardianindarkness. This blog is on permanent hiatus and will henceforth serve as a record of wonderfully enjoyable, richly written...
" And I am d o n e with my
{ G R A C E L E S S H E A R T } ,
so tonight I’m gonna
— C U T I T O U T —-
and then restart,
cause I like to keep my issues drawn,
and it’s always { d a r k e s t before the
D A W N … } “
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icyxmischief
ASK NAVIGATION META EXTANT THREADS
I made this blog on Christmas Eve 2012. It is a decision that I have never regretted. Through the eyes of so many kind, courageous, creative individuals, I have revisited what it is to be a child in contemporary society, with the steadfast advocacy of a collective of anthropological, allegorical, and mythological figures that support the child's right to believe. I have made lifelong friends who have kept my head above water in times of great physical and emotional trial. I have earned my PhD while running this blog, and found a calling. I will never forget who was here for me during these times of tragedy and triumph.
But, today, on April 10, 2014, this chapter of my life has come to an end. For several months now, I have struggled with trying to ascertain my place in this fandom community, as well as my relevance. I think I have outlived both. Rather than remain, and risk becoming an uninvited guest, I believe in quitting while I am ahead, when the memories are warm and the relationships are happy.
This blog will NOT be deactivated. Rather, it will sit here permanently as an ARCHIVE of my past interactions with wonderful richly talented writers and artists. Those of you who know my Skype, my personal blog, and my Loki rp blog can continue to find me anytime you wish, through those venues. I'm not going anywhere, I'm just putting this particular blog and fandom to rest.
For all that you have done for me: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will never forget this experience.
With all my love and best wishes for a happy life,
This conversation was one that I hoped to have in private with these individuals, but various Tumblr protocols have prevented me from making direct contact. I need to clear the air with these three good, decent people and heroes of the RotG/GoC fandom with whom I have, somehow, lost contact. Please, to respect their privacy and mine, do NOT read below the cut unless you are one of them. A thousand thanks for the courtesy.
I write this letter NOT to coerce you into response or regained contact. I write it ONLY for two reasons:
1) to admit that I don't know what happened to cause our falling-out, and to apologize for my ignorance of a behavior which was, somehow, clearly offensive to you--and therefore to take the responsibility for what I did to hurt you (if you would be willing to edify me privately as to what I did wrong--I promise to listen respectfully and to apologize),
and
2) to offer you every best and happiest wish for a fulfilling life ahead.
At the very beginning of November 2013, the three of you unfollowed me in rapid succession, without forewarning, and without explaining why. A friend told me, in concern for all of us, that one of you immediately thereafter posted a very angry message about me "not really caring about you after all." I was disturbed, and hoped that I would receive an explanation for the context of that post. You DO NOT owe me ANY explanation for ANYTHING, understand. I am NOT asking for ANYTHING. But I have, ever since that time, been troubled by the abrupt manner in which communication between us ceased. I unfollowed you and removed your Skypes from my contact list, thinking that this was a means of respecting your newly established boundaries, and your need for privacy. If this somehow made me come across as aloof or abrupt in my own ceased communication, I am TRULY TRULY sorry. I meant it only out of respect for your privacy.
But even after I did this, I remained hurt, sad, and confused. I asked mutual friends if they had any idea what had transpired to cause your severe and sudden change in demeanor toward me. They did not have any idea what had happened. Feeling direct communication best, I sent you numerous private messages apologizing and asking for an explanation of what I had done to offend. I don't know if Tumblr ate your responses, but I never received any. So I dropped the issue entirely, and decided that the most courteous measure would be to let you alone.
I just want the three of you to know: I ADMIRE you. I think the RotG community is in GOOD HANDS with you in it. You are remarkable artists, writers, and human beings. You have each overcome GREAT personal hardship to be where you are today. Your loved ones should be proud of the women you've become. I will also always cherish the time that we were friends. I have kept two beautiful gift arts that one of you painted for me, of Toothiana, Pitch, and Mother Nature. I have kept several heartwarming messages that another of you sent me calling me "one of the best and most ethical people I know." These tokens of friendship still make me happy on a rainy day. They really do.
I am genuinely and completely sorry, asking for nothing in return, for whatever I did to so profoundly hurt you. I would like to know what it was I did, so that I can safeguard against hurting anyone else similarly in the future. But if talking to me would be too upsetting to you, I will understand, and I will not bring this matter up again, with anyone.
I also hope that my writing this hasn't offended you further. This just seemed like the most mature and respectful course of action to me. We have many mutual friends in this fandom, and I don't want them to feel awkward over this. I don't want to cause any more hurt or miscommunication among good people.
If you receive this message, and will be willing to talk in private, I will gladly and instantly delete this post. I just...didn't have any other ways to reach you, because at least one of you has, I think, blocked me from sending asks or pm's to her.
It was a cruel night in early spring when the Boogeyman trolled the deepest forests in an indeterminate region of earth, responding to a particularly loud call for the dispensation of fear across the planet.
Pitch always loved beginning in the wilderness, because it was the primordial source of all emotions, all psyches, all life.
He delighted in the stirrings of the underbrush, crawling with insects and croaking and hissing and squirming reptiles, the termites in the rotting wood, the minnows shuddering around under the stagnant creek banks. He relished the creaks and moans of centuries-old trees, shedding leaves and sometime branches: and the exultant hysteria of a flock of crows or the swoop of a screech owl scattering across the canopy. He felt the mildew and mold and moss and fallen leaves and puddles of mud under his feet and claws and he was at home. The shadows themselves were sentient, moaning things that beckoned wanderers deep into a dangerous and irreversible night.
Pitch loved the dark, for Pitch was the dark.
The Nightmare King shifted forms--a snake, a wolf, a horse, a raven, a spider, incessantly, blending in and out of the dark, swelling with its exciting energy, working himself into the bestial frenzy that was required to deliver fear to human children. Coming, I'm coming. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite....
He had reached a clearing when he paused, stood upright and stiffened his back to a rod, betraying the soldier he had once been.
A black-haired girl with sun-kissed skin reposed on a cot carved from living shadows, in the corner of the great rusted light-dappled globe that formed the inner sanctum of Pitch Black's subterranean lair. Azula, the crown princess of a Fire Nation from another life and dimension, had since taken up residence with the Boogeyman himself, having proclaimed Fear the friend that had kept her alive for more years than she could have possibly managed alone.
The Nightmare King, home from his global rounds insinuating nightmares into the skulls of the young, entered his lair through a hole in the cavernous ceiling. He eeled through the dank air, crossing the nooks and crannies of the labyrinthine gray city that populated the space, causing a low moaning breeze to pass by and shake the eerie empty bird cages that dangled from the stalactites. The lead-encased walls glistened an iridescent coal hue as Pitch, still in his most primordial form--a many-eyed oil-hued Jabberwocky of the most hideous imaginings--peered down at Azula's sleeping form.
She had offered him her fealty, and he had still not been quite certain how to take advantage of this pledge. She was hyper-competent and utterly loyal. But something about her golden eyes and inky hair reminded him a bit disconcertingly much of his own daughter to be truly and brutally her master.
The great Boogeyman beast growled amusedly at himself.
Have I gone soft, at an age surpassing six billion years? I'm beginning to feel like the proprietor of an orphanage.
The Boogeyman lit on the shores of a beach whose gentle cascades of warm sunlight would not, for once, scorch his sensitive shadow-hewn skin. He strode along the sands, each grain a tiny glinting citrus-hued pearl. His black-stockinged toes wiggled into it, dug deeply in and created the sensation of a tingling limb on which on had slept too long, cutting off circulation. It was strangely ticklish, the feeling of Dreamsand against the Nightmare King's extremities.
Pitch knelt and dug his fingers into the substance as the waves mesmerically lapped the shore, and mermaids played in the surf. A pleasant tropical breeze tousled his feathery salt and pepper hair, while he conjured all manner of creatures--venus fly traps, eels, snakes, sharks, wolf spiders, crows, poison ivy, and wolves--his list of greatest hits from his daughter Mother Nature's stash--out of sifting gold. Most of the time, he was proud to notice, he managed to keep the sand its original hue, rather than tainting it black.
He was learning.
After a time the old wraith stood and dusted off his palms, proceeding inside Sanderson Mansnoozie's inner sanctum, to which he had been bestowed a secret key. Gaining access, he padded into the shade and folded his hands in front of him, an age-old aristocratic gesture that he had never quite shaken from his old life as Kozmotis.
"Oi, Little Man. You wanted to go on an adventure weeks ago. Shall we make good on that?"
//let me clarify. I sadly need to purge all existing drafts because I’m stuck unable to reply to them. It is totally me and I apologize for it. I am having a major inspiration crisis lately.
I am also opening five new rp slots for draft threads. One is already taken by Katherine and cupcake. Four are left. Mutuals get dibs if I get over four requests.
//Okay responders are (in order of mutuals followed by in order of receipt):
1) Joint thread with On-geese-and-good-books and Warriorprincesscupcake (I posted my reply last night <3 )
2) Floatinggoldensands
3) Afaceamidthestorm
4) Fallenfirebender
5) Samhain-Hallows
with runner ups
—Sandwoahman
—Lance-Fischer
the first five immediately get threads with me. Let me know who you want to do the starter, and what plot premises we should explore. The following two, as soon as one of the first five threads closes, we’ll do a thing! :)
Currently threading already with on-geese-and-good-books, Warriorprincesscupcake, and Afaceamidthestorm. As for the rest of you, I'm going to assume people want me to write the starters?
The fact that, even now, Emily Jane…Emmy Bud, Bud, Chickadee, EmJay….felt the need to craft a flawless answer for her own father who adored her despite having seen her commit blood-soaked murder, drowning, and other gruesome acts upon her own creations…it broke the Boogeyman’s heart. Pitch’s love was unconditional, and he still feared his daughter did not truly comprehend the nature of such a love.
"Babygirl," he cautiously pressed, "you’re so tense over this. C’mon, luv, it’s just me. Wasn’t asking for an apology."
He folded his long spidery hands behind his back, and tilted his head to and fro.
"Or praise. Just….wanting to reassure you that I’ve got your back. Always, you know?"
No. He isn’t asking for an apology. She’s safe with him, she has to
repeat that to herself over and over again, in a mind whose doubts
have been built over billions of years. A methodology of looking at
facts, data, actions her father has presented her to let the doubt
just melt away. A spring melt of a heart encased in ice.
Safe.
There is no need for an apology, no need to hide. Any instincts that
she had developed to protect herself, there is no point to them. She
didn’t need to be protected. Not from him, never from him
Still her voice is a quiet murmur and still she fidgets with her fingers,
even if such a meek disposition seems to elicit the use of her full
name. She cannot help it; she had always been the quietly shy,
reserved child, a side of her which is revealing itself in full force. A
rarity only her father had the privilege of seeing.
"Excellent!" Pitch's response was immediate. He knew not to ask for great and sudden change from his methodically fastidious daughter. He knew to take baby steps, just as the microscopic genome of an organism under Seraphina's control might be developed over eons.
"Excellent, I'm....really glad, Bud. Because old dad thinks it makes all the difference in the world for a body to know he, or she, is supported. We can only save ourselves, but...someone who's looking out for us gives us all the incentive, know what I mean?"
He jaunted over to her side with that plucky lope of an old wolf.
"Righto. You need some air. And by air I mean a break, idiomatically speaking. Let's go cloud painting. Maybe this time I can make that anvil head without getting me arse zapped by lightning."
It is a little-known fact that teddy bears crave and feed on the dreams of young children. It is little-known, of course, because the bears are so soft and cuddly that they convince the young children that they need them. For a while, the bear will feed on the bad dreams, leaving the child with nothing but the sweetest of dreams. But the good dreams taste better and feed them more, so eventually the teddy bear will start feeding on those, and the child will have nightmares every night. And, because the teddy bear so thoroughly convinces the child that the bear is necessary for the good dreams, they will keep sleeping with it, hoping for its magic to work again.
But the mind of a child is so rich and imaginative that it creates the means to its salvation. The monster under the bed rises, in the end, to vanquish the bear. Some nights it rises before the first nightmare night. Other times, it is at the last moment, and rises only when the bear means to suck dry every last dream and imagination in the child’s mind.
Tonight is the former. This monster was sent out in time to save its child from a single bad dream. And despite the teddy bear’s sword, the monster is fierce and devours it in a single gulp.
It is about to leave when it hears confused, wordless mumbles. The monster looks down and sees its child is awake, and looking up at it. Sleep has not faded so much that the child doesn’t scream, just asks in a sweet voice what the monster is doing there.
The monster, like the teddy bear, can’t speak. Instead it picks up the water by the bedside, hands its child the glass. Still confused, the child takes it. When the child drinks its fill and hands it back, the monster tucks it in with gentle claws.
The child murmurs a thanks and falls asleep again. And the monster leaves, satisfied that it has left its child with less fear rather than more.
THERE HAS BEEN A CHLORIC GAS LEAK IN A CHEMICAL FAKTORY IN NIEDERKASSEL- IF YOU LIVE THERE OR IN THIS AREA AND HAVE NOT BEEN INFORMED YET: CLOSE YOUR WINDOWS AND DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. CHLORINE GAS IS REALLY DAMAGING FOR YOUR LUNGS AND HEALTH AND CAN BE DEADLY. PLEASE BE SAFE.
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
kianamaiart
ellievsbear
