FINALLY! BLACKSAND ANIMALS! most of them are regular pitch and sandy, but there are also Mr sandman and Pi shawn tagging along if you see!
this took so long because as you have seen folks, been pretty busy with school, anyways, here are basically all the request, some weren’t made because the animals chosen were now way too much different from pitch and sandy, some others were repeat, but in teh end we had a huge variety guys, pretty great!
I’ve been feeling rather stressed and emotional of late, so during this time I’ve been listening to a lot of music and this picture is inspired by the song: Where the Lonely Ones Roam by Digital Daggers. So, enjoy some Pitch beckoning you to follow him into the shadows.
PLEASE do not repost/claim credit or steal this image. If reblogging, do
not remove my username and sight source. Thank you so very much!~<3
Okay this is a fanfic I came up with based on a prompt that I made up that is “Drunken 2am thoughts”. IDC if anyone else wants to use that for a prompt thing, but ye I’m writing a, you guessed it, Snowbaz fanfic. :-)
This is a little spooky bc u know….. halloween….
Let’s see how this goes….
It was 2am. 2am, a magical time. “The Witching Hour,” as some call it. A time where you could sit alone, let the darkness lull you into a soft trance. A time where the only sounds are your steady breathing in the empty room. A time where monsters lurk, creating fantasies out of shadows of the past. A time where you’re mind twists things such as a small sound, or a flash of a memory. A time that consumes some, leading them down dark, twisted allies until they can’t find their way back.
Not all of us experience the horrors of these nights. Some are asleep before it starts. Some, it grazes over, leaving nothing but a small shake of a head to rid themselves of it. But for some, it slips in silently, reaches ever so close, whispering it’s secrets, driving some mad with worry. Unfortunately, Simon happened to be one of these poor souls on this cold and sleepless night.
Baz came back into the room four hours ago. He slipped in like he always did. Silently and gracefully, pulling himself into his bed without so much as a crinkle of the sheets. Simon closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but watching him through his half lidded eyes. Baz was staring straight back at him, completely unaware that Simon was still awake. They stayed like that for at least another two hours or so, then Baz closed his eyes and drifted off.
Simon let himself fully open his eyes. He could hardly see because of the pitch darkness that surrounded him like a thick bucket of paint, but he could make out Baz’s features somehow in the darkness. His hair blending into his surroundings with its inky blackness. His face looking like it was carved out of marble from an expert sculptor. His long, thin, violinist fingers clutching the pristine white pillow, rumpling it. There was something elegant about Baz, but at the same time, it was demonic. Like when something seems too good to be true and you know it’s all some twisted lie.
That’s why I hate him, Simon thinks to himself. He frowns in disgust and a bronze curl falls in front of his eyes. He mindlessly pushes it back and stares at Baz, wondering what kind of plotting goes on in that head of his. He then notices the small smile curling on Baz’s lips. It’s not like his smirk. It doesn’t seem cruel or twisted. It seems happy. Probably dreaming about when he finally sinks his fangs into my neck, Simon thinks to himself.
The clock on his bedside table clicks, and clicks, and clicks. Simon takes turns staring at Baz, and then at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to fall asleep. Soon, the time passes until it’s almost 2am. 1:59 to be exact. Then, one loud, sharp tick rings through the air. 2am, on the dot. A stillness settles in the air that wasn’t there before. Simon no longer hears the quiet, steady breathing of Baz. All there is is his breath and the loud beating of his heart. The rain seems to pound harder, to the beat of his racing heart. The air gets cooler, causing small goosebumps to dot Simon’s skin. He pulls up the covers tightly around himself to try and block out the cold, and turns back to Baz.
An almost shadow like figure creeps behind Simon. It eyes him like it’s next meal, which he pretty much is. It lays a long, withered hand on Simon’s shoulder, causing him to shudder. The figure leans close to Simon, so it’s face is right next to Simon’s ear. It latches onto every memory clinging to Simon’s brain, searching for something in between girls with blonde hair and tall boys with slicked back black hair and grey eyes.
He looks so vulnerable when he sleeps, the silhouette whispers. Simon cocks his head. His secrets seem to gush out from him, don’t they, Simon looks closer, seeing the happy bliss on Baz falling on his face. His lips seem to mouth words that don’t make a sound. Huh. That’s funny. They seem to be saying “Simon”.
It’s really beautiful when his hair hangs around his face like that. The shadow feels Simon’s shoulders tense, then relaxes in a sort of happy fondness. Interesting.
I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through his hair. The shadow feeds the thoughts to Simon with a slight push forward. Simon reaches out, as if to touch Baz’s hair. Then pulls his hands back suddenly, his guard back up. The shadow tries to break the walls again.
I wish I saw his smile more often. It’s really magical. Simon lets out a dreamy sigh. I wish I made him smile like that. A feeling wrenches in his stomach that he can’t quite explain. The shadow finds pleasure making the boy’s gut twist in a feeling that’s part of a whole new world.
Aleister Crowley, his lips are perfectly shaped, the shadow pushes again. So perfect. I bet it’d be a miracle to kiss them. Simon stiffens as if the thought surprised him.
“What the hell?” he whispers into the room.
C’mon Simon. It’s not like you haven’t thought of it before. Simon tries to push the thought out of his head. The shadow grips tighter. Simon flashes back to all the times he pinned Baz to a wall after a particularly nasty fight. How his eyes always searched Baz’s for any sign of weakness, anything that told him to stop. Any emotion. And then his eyes drifted to Baz’s perfectly shaped lips curved into a sneer, begging Simon to do his worst. Simon remembered feeling Baz’s warm breath on his neck and how it made his body tingle in an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. He remembered the way he always looked for Baz first.
No, Simon thinks.
But… what if–
But what about this–
I. Am not. In love. With Basilton Grimm-Pitch.
Snow-Pitch does sound lovely, doesn’t it?
Simon and Baz Snow-Pitch. Has a nice ring to it.
I bet he’s really muscular underneath that shirt. What would it be like to run my–
I should corner him. I should kiss him. I should ask him why he mouths my name in his sleep…..
NO NO NO NO NO!! HE’S THE ENEMY!
Aw he’s doing a happy little sigh. He’s so hot.
I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.
I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. My enemy. My roommate. A boy. A boy.
I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.
The shadow’s work was done. It removed it’s hands and left the poor boy to sort out the mess of emotions swirling around him like a tornado. He clutched his head as if it would explode if he didn’t. A battle was raging inside him, and the wrong team was winning.
The next morning, Simon could barely Baz’s eyes. The grey eyes like the silver buttons on his coat. The grey eyes like the weather just before a storm. The grey eyes that where the perfect balance for his stunning blue. He was the rain to his sky. He was the calm to his fire. No no no no NO! Stop it Simon!
Baz noticed Simon’s strange behaviour. He was beating himself up more than usual, looking around like a lost puppy. He hardly paid attention to Bunce during breakfast. Something happened, Baz thinks to himself. And he was going to figure out what.
When Simon walked into the room, Baz took no time into pushing him against the wall, causing Simon to bang his head painfully. His eyes looked equally as painful. Both of their hearts started to leap into their throats as they realized how close they where. Close enough to kiss, they both thought in unison. They looked into each other’s eyes, sky on a spring day between them.
“What are you doing, Baz?” Simon asks, trying to act like his usual self. Before he found out–NO!
“I would ask you the same thing, Snow,” Baz says in his usual tone. He notices Simon look at his lips as he forms the word “Snow”. Baz is so glad he hasn’t had enough blood to blush, otherwise he would’ve resembled a tomato.
“Simon,” Simon says.
“Call me Simon.”
“And why the hell would I do that, Snow?”
“Because…. because….” Simon only sees one option. He never had a relationship with Baz to risk anyway, right? Surely this couldn’t hurt….
Plus, Simon was curious. And a lovestruck curious boy drunk on 2am thoughts is a dangerous thing.
Simon reached and put his hands on Baz’s chest. Baz thought that Simon was going to shove him off, but he was surprised when the golden fingers clenched on the fabric of Baz’s shirt, and instead of pushing him away, clutched him closer.
“Simon what–” Baz never finishes. How could he when a dream is playing in reality. Simon kisses him fiercely with so much passion, Baz isn’t sure he’s isn’t dreaming it. He closes his eyes and tentatively hovers his hands over Simon’s waist. Simon releases Baz’s shirt, not breaking contact, and presses Baz’s hands to his hips. Baz is shocked by the sudden movement, but clutches Simon tighter anyway, letting his lips work against Simon’s. He lets his hands slip under his shirt and trail over his back, feeling new curves he never seen before.
Simon slides his hands through Baz’s hair, drinking Baz in. His hair is soft, he smells like Earl Grey tea, and Simon loves it. He loves the fiery wisps that Baz trails on his skin with every new kiss and touch. He loves how the both dive in after taking a bit of air. He loves feeling Baz’s smooth, marble-like cheeks under his hands. He practically melts when he lets his hands slip under Baz’s shirt.
That’s when they realized they are both hopelessly in love with each other.
On a dark night, a shadow goes
Along a pitch black road.
With tall stature, though bent shouldered,
It hauls a heavy load
And as it walks, it hums a tune
That’s eerie, soft and low
As on it marches down the street
It’s pace measured and slow.
I watch from my window up high,
I try to make it out.
Is it a person that I know,
Strolling out and about?
But alas, I simply can’t see
There’s just not enough light,
I’ll have to dream its back story
That’s my task for tonight.
“I’d seen the Shadow Fold on many maps, a black slash that had severed Ravka from its only coastline and left it landlocked. Sometimes it was shown as a stain, sometimes as a bleak and shapeless cloud. And then there were the maps that just showed the Shadow Fold as a long, narrow lake and labeled it by its other name, “the Unsea,” a name intended to put soldiers and merchants at their ease and encourage crossings. […] At first, it was like drifting into a thick cloud of smoke, but there was no heat, no smell of fire. Sounds seemed to dampen and the world became still. I watched the sandskiffs ahead of us slide into the darkness, fading from view, one after another. […] I looked back over my shoulder. The living world had disappeared. Darkness fell around us, black, weightless, and absolute. We were in the Fold.
It was like standing at the end of everything.”
Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.
Pitch Black/Jack Frost
(I got two requests for this! Same word, same pairing! Guess two of you really want to see Jack and Pitch dance.)
(SALverse, basically fluff)
It was one of those days.
The words didn’t quite capture the heaviness of it. He didn’t have these days so often anymore. They tended to come on the backs of dreams about his old world, his old life – how many old lives did he have now? The one as the Nightmare King. The one as Pitch. The one as Kozmotis. The one as Kozmotis pre-Seraphina. The one as Kozmotis post-Seraphina.
This time, he’d dreamt about the celebrations after the successful initiation ceremony into becoming a golden warrior. It had been a rocky affair, he’d gone deeper into the darkness than the others and his supervisor had known it and carefully said nothing after seeing the look in Pitch’s eyes. So Pitch had tried to embrace the vivacity of his colleagues and peers, drinking as vigorously as they, and yet in the depths of him a darkness whispered quietly.
For some, like Ember or Skulker, it’s not too difficult to figure out. Those who know how Plasmius died figured out how Phantom did fairly easily, although rumors about both of them abound.
One thing that’s sure, though, is that a grave is the one thing that a ghost does not interfere with another on. Usually, the graves simply have whatever the ghosts remember of their previous lives. Rarely, they have names of who they used to be.
It’s rare that graves are in a ghost’s lair, simply because it would be too easy for them to be destroyed. Instead, graveyards scatter the ‘floor’ of the Ghost Zone. Clusters can be created for many reasons- similar deaths, similar obsessions, or simply similar dates of death. Ghosts whose graves are in the same graveyard, if they see each other by their respective graves, simply nod or ignore each other out of respect.
Nobody knows if Plasmius and Phantom have seen theirs. They’re exceedingly difficult to find, and glow a faint red and green, respectively. They have their full names and obsessions written on them, and nothing more.
I added on to the last idea I had(Charlie and Pitch cross paths in the shadows, and Pitch is somewhat love struck by the shadow girl), this time bringing Maxwell into the picture. He isn’t too happy about the boogeyman man getting flirty eyed with his lady.
Charlie is somewhat unamused, mainly peeved because in this state of being she believes that she is more than capable of handling the situation.
INKTOBER day 5 from my Witch Inktober 2016 challenge: Socialité Witches
Ok, to be a socialité wicth you’d have to be part of a very interesting clan of witches and wizards with a very specific set of skills. So either people keep you around cause they don’t want to rub your wrong sides or because you’re tokenish or just a friend with certain benefits.
I like to think that two witches would certainlyt be there, a witch of Shadows and a Gem Witch. Cause, imagine. You don’t wanna rub the wrong side of a family that can literally control your own shadow, and, you’d certainly want to be in touch with the finest jewel and gem producers in town. Also I’d like to think that gem witches and wizards could cast illusions due to crystal refractions. imagine Jeweler wizards being fancy af, but deceiving af as well. The literal creators of “Get yourself a witch that can do both”.
The shadow witch has pitch black irises and hair, with snow white skin cause fuck you that’d be rad as fuck
Also, if you like my work, you should totally hit the Like and Reblogbutton,maybe even following me, or idk, maybe support this College studentbyactually Comissioning me or going to my Patreon Account! In any caseallthese options help artists out. Thanks Mim’s out
take me home - “now he’s moving close, my heart in my throat. i won’t say a word, but i think he knows…” // a simon/raphael fanmix. song viii inspired by this fanvid. enjoy! ( listen here )
i. memo - years & years. ii. demon limbs (acoustic) - pvris. iii. it’s only - odesza ft. zyra. iv. home - daughter. v. coming down - halsey. vi. antichrist - the 1975. vii. broken bones - chvrches. viii. shadow preachers (pitched) - zella day. ix. feel real - deptforth goth. x. undead - daughter. xi. take me to church - hozier. xii. night time - the xx.
oh well, Mr sandman doesn’t talk, I haven’t put much mind on it about if he CAN or not exactly, if he can then he has my Sandy’s voice headcanon of Frank Sinatra becuase YES
Pi Shawn (shadow pitch) is a bit more of a tricky question, they don’t sound like Pitch (then again, when I think of Pitch, he doesn’t sound like himself, becuase I hardly remember Jude Law voiced him, sorry guys, I listened first to the spanish dub and was horrible, so my headcanon voice for him is other)
When I think of Pi Shawn I normally imagine them actually sounding like either Louis Armstrong or Karen O, yeah, I know, there is no real relation in between both voices, but I can’t help it, Strange Love is like my theme for them both and I always that I hear it, I can’t help imagining Pi Shawn singing it while Mr sandman is playing all the instruments for it