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#considering that they said it unprompted last fest. I don't think it's like...it's not Worst Way Possible a Shiver Hater might take it
shiverhohojiro · 8 months
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I do maintain that Deep Cut sees Splatfests as silly little fun games and none of them ultimately cares who wins, and they all have fun with it. However I do also think that Shiver at the very least does tend to think of themself as the ringleader of this circus
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gilly-moon · 9 months
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For the ask prompt:
Introducing them to their special interests/hyperfixations
And/or
Pure genuine laughter, because these two would go really well hand in hand I think!
~harley
I only now realized that I don't think I've ever done little one-off drabbles like this before, so it was harder than expected to keep it short! Super fun exercise in little character moments tho ♡
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Jack’s first mistake was mentioning he had only seen a handful of horror movies.
His second was letting Pitch sit him down for a marathon of his favorites.
They’d gone through the trouble of tracking down a local rec center, ensuring it was empty for the night before dragging out the old box TV on its cart and getting comfy on a couch that could’ve been older than the building itself. Pitch brought the movies, and Jack reluctantly brought himself.
He wasn’t a scaredy-cat, or so he’d insisted to Pitch. The few horror movies he’d seen might’ve caught him off guard with a jump scare or two, but he’d never left them scared.
Turns out he’d just been watching the wrong ones.
Really, he should’ve expected it. Why would he ever think that asking the King of Nightmares to show him some horror movies would be a breeze? A little gore, a little suspense, no big deal, right? Instead, he’d found himself halfway into a psychological hellscape of a movie and realized exactly what he’d gotten himself into.
When the credits rolled on the first film, Jack turned to Pitch with wide eyes and asked him flat-out if he’d been doused with Nightmare sand and if - pretty please - he could wake up now. Pitch just grinned evilly and stood up to put the next movie in. But then Jack made some throwaway comment about horror movies being gratuitous fear-fests, and something shifted in Pitch’s expression. Remote still in hand, he stood with his arms crossed and sternly said, “Now listen here, Frost,” before launching into a lecture about the complex and difficult art of instilling fear in an audience.
And the more Pitch talked, the more of Jack’s fear slipped away. So even after Pitch sank back onto the couch to start the movie and fear filled the air again, Jack scooted a little closer and found every opportunity to poke him with questions.
Without fail, Pitch always had an answer. He talked at length about when and where it was most effective to use violence or gore, how best to use a character’s fears against them, or the intent of a scene in creating psychological unease in both the protagonist and the audience. By the time the third film was playing, he began pointing things out unprompted, and had entirely forgotten that his initial intent was seemingly to watch Jack drown in his own fears.
Jack was utterly captivated. He’d never seen Pitch speak so passionately about anything, aside from the occasional rant about the Guardians and Manny. A scene that might’ve had Jack tucking into his sweatshirt and staying there til morning shifted from frightening to fascinating as Pitch broke down piece-by-piece how the film had foreshadowed everything without ever allowing the audience to suspect the horror to come.
Metallic eyes locked on the screen, Pitch didn’t seem to notice that Jack had been watching him instead of the movie by the time the last film was coming to an end. He was too busy rambling about the plot, rising from the couch to retrieve the disc.
“Humans are surprisingly adept at supplying inspiration for their own worst nightmares,” Pitch said, turning just so to make his irises gleam from the blue TV screen. “Though I prefer to think their inspirations are a product of my own meddling while they sleep. Don’t you?”
Jack blinked, considering the films they’d just watched and trying to imagine all their horrors coming directly from Pitch himself. It was a far easier task than he should’ve been comfortable with.
“I almost forgot for a sec there,” he said with a faint laugh, “you’re like…insane, insane. Like, cult leaders and torturers would be begging you for ideas if they could.”
Pitch raised an eyebrow, looking over Jack curiously from where he stood. “And yet you still choose to spend time with me.”
Jack shrugged, crossing his legs underneath him. “Look, I’m the fun Guardian, not the smart Guardian.”
And the laugh that escaped Pitch then made Jack light up like the moon. It was brief, but it was real. Jack could sense it, that pure sound that welled up in the tall shadow of a man and escaped him before it could be stopped. Jack reveled in it, and how rarely he heard that laugh unless it was darkened by cynicism or mischievous intent.
“Well, I appreciate you indulging me,” Pitch said after clearing his throat. He strode back to the couch, looming over Jack as the first beams of dawn began breaking through the curtain. “Though I must admit, I was hoping to taste more of your fears tonight. Shall I leave you with a Nightmare instead to remember me by?”
Jack shot to his knees, startling Pitch just enough for Jack to grip the front of his robe and successfully tug him down into a quick kiss.
“Not a chance in hell, Boogeyman,” he murmured against those scalding lips.
Before Pitch could recover, the winds where whisking Jack out the door, escaping from the shadows with a laugh.
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