over and over again, frost fell and rose, winter receding only to burst forth white and tempestuous at the end of the year.
over and over again, and still there was only the pit for pitch, the silence, the place where nothing was everything and it didn’t matter who he once was, it didn’t matter who he could be, it only mattered that he wasn’t, and for that, the world was a better place.
he slips his gaunt hands through his hair. they come away tarred and sludgy.
his robes melt off him, his substance failing, his form melting.
stare into the abyss, he’d implored jack, look into me, see me, but jack would not come for him.
north throws a ball, jack frost dances with a luminous faery, golden sand swirls and a smirking jackrabbit keeps time with his foot.
in the heart of nothing and nowhere, a snowflake melts, and pitch fades away.
Movies I’ve seen: Rise of the Guardians
[Not a review, because I suck at reviewing movies.]
I saw it a few weeks ago and I didn’t like it as much as I hoped (please, Tumblr, don’t kill me). It was fun, and heartwarming at moments, I liked the animation, but all the time I felt it lacked something, I’m not sure what.
I guess it’s another one of those films that I like more through the Internet than by themselves, because all the good scenes have been giffed, and there are meta posts that make it better, so I’m not gonna complain. And yes, expect lots of reblogs.
It’s still one of the few DreamWorks movies I’ve actually liked instead of just enjoyed, so I’d recommend it (and I’ll keep it in mind for the next time my mom says she wants to watch a movie).
so apparently there’s some pitch/north shipping goin’ on and that’s cool. (‘black christmas’ is even a pretty cool ship name.)
it means i’m seeing more north on my dash since i follow a couple pitch-centric blogs.
but i just got one question for y’all.
is there a particular reason north is being drawn markedly thinner…?
fuck—
pitch with a violin makes me want to—
write—
the speculation about pitch’s lair was thick as thieves — bunny assumed the nightmare king kept the skeletons of children’s imaginary friends, and north, being north, insisted that those imaginary friends were still alive and still screaming
jack remembered the velvety darkness under the surface, beyond the reach of the moon, and remained silent
pitch’s lair, truly, is here and there and everywhere
pitch’s lair, truly, is the chasms under beds, yes, but also the crannies of hardened hearts and the heaviness of weakened souls, the sloughs of despond and the infinite wells of sorrow, and somewhere
somewhere between the mournful notes of a nocturne
you may see his spindly fingers dance
