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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH48

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 48: Star Death Reality Show (XXXI) {cw: misgendering}

"Will Qi Leren be alright?" Dr. Lu, who had already run away, looked at Du Yue behind him in a panic and murmured in a low voice, "I have a bad feeling."

"Qianbei will be fine," Du Yue said confidently.

"No, let's go down and have a look. If he’s in trouble, we can help," Dr. Lu said.

"Okay, let's go." Du Yue was fine with it.

The two people studied the route to find the safest passage. Dr. Lu's sense of direction was bad, and Du Yue wasn’t much better. Two headless flies wandered around the institute and accidentally found intermittent blood on the ground.

The two walked along the blood trail, and finally found the injured Lara in a hidden room. Her injury wasn’t serious, but her spirit was not good. After seeing Du Yue and Dr. Lu, she was silent for a long time, and her voice was hoarse as she asked: "Have you seen Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue?"

The two shook their heads, and Lara sighed: "I'm afraid they’re in danger."

Lara told them what had happened after they ran away. Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue disappeared quickly, but Janet, Alex and Lara were together. They’d had an argument because Francis had been parasitized by an octopus. Janet strongly suspected that Lara was parasitized, and Lara would naturally not admit to such false accusations. During the argument, they met Leviathan, who had been thrown off by Qi Leren once before.

Janet, who was the closest to Leviathan, was the first to be killed. Alex tried to escape, but Leviathan jumped up again. Alex, who was eager to get rid of it, tried to push Lara out, and even stabbed Lara with a dagger. However, Lara had a strong will to survive. She took the dagger regardless of her injury and stabbed Alex’s vitals with a knife. She hid in a room, locked the door, and crawled away from the vents.

After that, Lara tenaciously fled the whole way, and finally came here and met Du Yue and Dr. Lu.

"We also met the monster, and Qi Leren led it away. Here's the thing..." Dr. Lu plainly told the story again, and finally asked, "We’re going to find Qi Leren. Would you like to join us?"

Lara touched the wound on her hand and nodded firmly: "Let's go."

This time, all three people were in a heavy mood. Especially after seeing the incomplete bodies of Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue, Lara cried sadly and asked aloud, "Are we the only ones left? Is Qi still alive?"

Janet and Alex had undoubtedly died by Leviathan's mouth, as well as Jing Siyu and Jing Siyue. Francis, Annie, Mark and Xue Jiahui were all parasitized. He Yi became Leviathan’s host. Only four of them had survived, and among them, Qi Leren’s life and death were still uncertain.

"Of course he’s still alive!" Dr. Lu said firmly. "He must still be alive!"

　　&&&

In the vast underground ice palace.

"Prophet, are you awake?" A blindfolded woman stood up from the chair of carved ice and respectfully saluted him. The ice and snow maids who were responsible for guarding the underground ice palace also bent over in salute.

"Soothsayer? Is it your rotation today?" asked the Prophet.

"It should have been the Iillusionist’s turn, but he had something to do, so we changed it," the Soothsayer replied.

"How is that boy recently?" When it came to the Illusionist, the Prophet's tone was clearly casual.

"Not bad, I heard that he made an interesting new friend, and he played tricks on others all day long." The Soothsayer smiled and asked again, "This time, you slept for a much shorter time than expected. Is something wrong?"

"It's not an accident." The Prophet frowned and looked up at the dome of ice and snow, but his line of sight seemed to pass through the thick layer of ice and look at the vast universe.

The blindfolded Soothsayer could not see his expression at the moment, but she could feel his inner unrest.

"Someone has discovered their original force, and that force is biased towards us," said the Prophet.

The Soothsayer breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and said, "Isn't this a good thing? Although it’s only the first step, it’s always ahead of the other sentient beings on the starting line. Maybe it will eventually condense a half-field or even a field."

It was only the first step to discover one's original force, and it would take some difficult self-testing to condense a half-field, but this already meant that this person was about to embark on a road different from ordinary players. Any master at the field level started from this first step. Although most people would fall in the long road of experience, everyone who had reached the field level had terrible strength.

The Prophet sighed faintly: "It’s too early to talk about field condensation... Although I’m optimistic about him, I didn’t expect it to be so fast. This may not be a good thing for him. There are still too many problems in his body that have not been solved."

The Soothsayer asked curiously, "Do you know that man? What is his original force?"

The Prophet sensed the new force full of vigor and hope, and gently spoke the answer:

"Rebirth."

　　&&&

In the deep underground glacier wrapped in eternal cold, the temperature was 60 degrees below zero. When human beings were exposed to this environment, it only took a few minutes for the blood in the nose and ears to be unable to maintain circulation because of the cold, and the cells would quickly die.

This underground world without light seemed destined to be forgotten in the cold.

Crushed skull, whole body fracture, ruptured organs, internal and external bleeding... Worse than that, when falling from that height, the speed would return to zero at the moment of contact with the ground, and the body would be deformed instantly under the huge force of the impact. Even the space alien Leviathan, whose vitality was extremely terrible, was seriously injured after falling and fell into a deep sleep.

To say nothing of a human being.

Death was the only outcome.

But suddenly, something moved in the ruinous "tomb" created from broken ice.

And then moved again.

Qi Leren felt as if he was in an icy hell. Every time he breathed, thousands of ice needles punctured his internal organs crazily, which made him feel miserable. He couldn't even think of why he felt so painful and cold, or where he was.

Under this inhuman pain, he only felt that he didn't want to live any longer, but he couldn't even die.

Breathing returned, heartbeat returned, he still couldn't open his eyes, he could only move with all his might. The stones and ice blocks on his arms also moved and collapsed violently, and his sound echoed in the lifeless darkness.

Qi Leren's consciousness gradually returned, and he remembered who he was, but he still didn't realize where he was. He complained crazily in his mind that the air conditioner in his room was too cold, and that he had even accidentally fallen from the bed, and now he couldn't move.

But how could it hurt so much? It was like all his bones were broken.

Qi Leren's confused thinking leaped illogically. He saw many things, and the broken pictures rampaged in front of his eyes, but they just passed away. All he remembered was that he saw a pair of blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Ning Zhou.

The name suddenly appeared in Qi Leren’s, which was like a spell to unlock the seal on his memories. Countless heavy memories were bearing down, which were more painful than the rose thorn stuck in his heart.

He was going to find Ning Zhou, and he was going to bring him back.

Qi Leren finally recalled his mission, and he began to struggle, struggling to get up from the tomb built from broken ice. Just turning over exhausted his strength, and he had to lie prone on the ground and breathe for a while, only to recover his strength slowly.

He noticed the time. It has been twenty hours since he’d fallen from the ice cliff. It was ten o'clock on the fifth night. The fifth day’s Best of the Day had already been announced, but he didn't know who it was. At the same time, his privacy time has been reset with the new day day, and he had another ten hours.

If you fell from such a high place, the tracking camera should be damaged. If not, the low temperature here should make it unable to work normally. But just to be on the safe side, turn it off.

"Turn off the camera." Qi Leren squeezed his voice out of his dry throat, and coughed wildly as soon as he finished speaking. His mouth was full of the fishy sweetness of blood, which made Qi Leren feel queasy.

Suddenly there was a light sound in the dark, as if a stone had been pushed down.

Qi Leren immediately took out a flashlight from the item bar and shone it in the direction of the sound.

Not far away, there is a mound of rocks and crushed ice, and a tentacle was slowly sticking out from the inside, which was extremely slow and seems to be seriously injured.

That thing wasn't dead yet? Or did it sense the breath of the living again and wake up from hibernation?

Qi Leren struggled from the ground. Although he was mysteriously resurrected, his left hand, which was bitten off by Leviathan, still didn't grow back. If he tried this again, he would only die.

But fortunately, he had a key item that had cooled down.

When the Prophet's Heart was used again, Qi Leren felt subtly different from the last time. The phantom angel falling from the sky came to him and took him away from the terrible world to the carefree Garden of Eden. Under the cover of God's grace, he didn't need to worry, and he didn't feel fear. The world was like sand in his hand, and he could easily knead it into the shape he wanted.

Heavy rocks and ice were pushed away with a flick, exposing Leviathan lying on the ground dying. This horrible monster had a red eye, and this huge eyeball was full of ferocious madness.

There was an invisible giant clock behind him, and the pointer walked quickly. As long as it finished three laps, the power he borrowed would be like the chime of midnight, dissipating all magic.

He had to hurry.

Qi Leren held out his hand and raised his palm in the void. Leviathan floated and began to roar and struggle, but this degree of resistance had no effect before the original force. Moving the palm of his hand slowly, Qi Leren felt that he could easily knead it into pieces, just like what he did to Mark's octopus.

But this was not the only way. Qi Leren felt the mystery of time and carefully explored its secret. A mysterious feeling emerged in his heart. He rubbed his fingers and the sands of time slowly flowed down in his hands.

Leviathan floating in the air as if it had been cast in magic. Its shell was rapidly aging, coated with a layer of rust, and finally it seems to be petrified. Its body was full of cracks, and finally it turned into powder like beach sand, which sprinkled to the ground slowly, leaving a golden treasure chest and a round sphere.

Qi Leren waved his hand, and these two things fell into his hands. The treasure chest was opened, which was an item.

[Lucky Revolver: There are six slots in this gun’s chamber, one of which is loaded with a bullet. Shooting at one's own temple can give one minute of absolute defense within a radius of 500 meters around the locked target, but the absolute defense is invalid for this bullet. Even if you are lucky, God will only give you five minutes. If you are not afraid of death, you can continue for another minute. Locked target: not set.]

Qi Leren immediately decided that this was of no use to him, because he would blow his head off with the first shot, and unless it was matched with S/L, it was a waste.

Disappointed, he looked at the other object, which was an eyeball as big as a bowl. The scarlet pupil seemed familiar. It was called [Leviathan's Eyeball].

What was this thing? There wasn’t even a brief introductory description, which reminded Qi Leren of another prop without a brief introduction, namely, the "Scepter of Hell", which Maria had entrusted him to give to the Prophet.

Time was running out, and the clock representing his time limit only had half a rotation left. The translucent wings behind the Qi Leren lifted him, flying over the deep underground glacier, crossing the collapsed ice tunnel, flying all the way along the coming road, and returning to the iron door at the entrance before time ran out.

"Qi Leren? You’re still alive? That’s great!" "Qianbei! Are you alright? Qianbei! How did you grow wings!" "Qi, are you alright?" The three people wandering around the door with flashlights rushed up in surprise at the sight of Qi Leren.

Prophet's Heart’s time was up, and Qi Leren landed on the ground. After the sacred power retreated, he sat down weakly and walked out of the underground ice cave with the help of the three panicking people.

"It's okay, it's all taken care of. Just in case, we should quickly leave here, seal the exits, and wait for rescue." Although Qi Leren was still in the aftershocks of coming back from the dead, his mind was clear, and he clearly commanded the three people. He was worried about whether there were any octopuses hatching in the research institute, but he was afraid to say it now, for fear that after his mouth moved, his good luck would run out.

Du Yue had great strength, and single handedly carried Qi Leren, who had lost his arm, on his back. He listened to the three people say what had happened after they’d split up, learning that after discovering that the other people had become Leviathan's food, the three people had come to the bottom of the institute to look for Qi Leren. They went in several times, but the temperature inside was horribly low. Unlike Qi Leren who had been blessed by the holy light, they finally had to retreat, worried that Qi Leren was dead.

Qi Leren didn't say that he and Leviathan had fallen off the ice cliff together, only that Leviathan had fallen off, and that he was injured and unconscious for a long time but didn't die. Finally, God blessed him and gave him strength to return to them.

Dr. Lu and Du Yue were very embarrassed, but Lara was very moved. She took Qi Leren's remaining right hand and sincerely said, "When we go back, introduce me to your teachings. I’m willing to be baptized."

Qi Leren, who had no intention of preaching at all, was in a distressing situation. One atheist has destroyed the worldviews of another atheist through acting skills and unscientific miracles—maybe more than one. Should he be sealed as a saint or something?

They left the underground research institute, blocked the exit, left the basement, and returned to the surface. The night was bright and the whole land was covered with white snow and ice. Lara, who was the first to leave the room, pointed to the sky in surprise and shouted: "Look, what is that!"

The three people raised their heads and looked at the approaching black spots.

"Is it... Is the rescue coming?" Dr. Lu was excited.

"Great." Qi Leren also breathed a sigh of relief. The copy was coming to an end, and they could return to the Nightmare World soon.

The spacecraft was getting closer and closer, and before long, they would be able to board the spacecraft safely and leave, but the spacecraft was slow to land. The four people waited anxiously, just like waiting for a late plane.

"It seems like something’s wrong." Lara stood up and looked at more and more spacecrafts that had no intention of landing. "What are they waiting for?"

A thought flashed through Qi Leren's mind: "Are they a civilian spacecrafts?"

"No, these are..." Lara said, her voice stopping abruptly.

A beam more dazzling than sunlight converged on the muzzle of the spacecraft, and the terrible energy was aimed at this planet!

Stunned, the four people watched the devastating attack on the plane beneath their feet, and they couldn't help feeling shocked. They had never thought that, after escaping death from a horrible space alien, they would finally die at the hands of their own people. In order to prevent the octopus from spreading, the army gave up the idea of a rescue landing and blasted the whole planet to pieces at a safe distance, where there was no risk of contact.

At the last second in this copy world, Qi Leren and the others were judged to have completed the task requirement of "surviving until the army arrived", and left the world in the light of the blast.

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Editor’s Notes: Obviously those items can only have positive results, right?

As a bonus for the end of this arc, BMBL wrote a collection of the program audience’s reactions on her Weibo. They’re posted as images so I can’t easily throw them into an mtl, but here’s the link for anyone who wants to take a stab at it: https://weibo.com/1741082525/F4b6D7Upr

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bonebreakjack · 5 years ago

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Winter Warmth

Knuckles doesn't like the cold, he grew up on tropical island for cry out loud!

But maybe winter ain't all bad.

Genre:friendship

Rating: G

Knuckles let out a sneeze as he shivered in his thick scarf, he didn't like visiting everyone during winter he was always sleepy, cold, and freakin wet! But Amy invited everyone over to her house for Christmas this year and even he for all his responsibility ....can't deny eating his friend’s food around this time of year, especially when she's offering.

Plus Chaos and Tikal insisted he go take a break.

(As well as bring some back for them. Sneaky gluttons, how does a ghost and being made of water even eat?)

Amy always made a lot of food around this time to give and help them through their semi hibernations. It was hard being hibernating mammals, your body ached with the ancient need to stuff yourself till you pop and sleep until you started to see flowers again.

Very annoying when you have to guard an ancient sacred relic with the power to destroy the world 24/7. That does not even mention the water deity of destruction that lived within it.

Their bodies may have evolved the automatic knockout out but they still are slower, sleepier, and much heavier than any other part of the year. It was amazing Eggman didn't attack them more often during this time when their at their weakest but he guesses not even Eggman likes working in this hellish cold.

Hearing voices he moved his head and nearly stopped cold at the crowd that was surrounding Amy's house pushing and shoving at each other. Feeling his hackles rise he let anger burn him warm. If these assholes came to start trouble he will give them a reason to start it!

Stomping his way over Knuckles was going to start laying into them when and even louder high pitched voice did it for him.

"I. SAID. GET IN LINE!!!"

Like obedient and scared school children the people got into a neat in orderly line(even if there was an almost stampede quality to it in an effort to quickly do as they were told.)

Knuckles raised a brow as he saw Amy having come outside her house armed with her hammer huffing pissed off and annoyed. She had her apron and bandana on covered in all sorts of food stains.

"You all are going to wait for your turn! You didn't want to wait for the deliveries? Well then unfortunately you're gonna have to wait in line like proper people." Resting her hammer on her shoulder she turned to Knuckles looking ready to go into another row before she stopped realizing who it was. Squealing, she made the ever so feared weapon disappear to hug him.

"Knuckles! You're early." She pulled him into the house and Knuckles tried to ignore the glares of death as he was allowed entry into the house. He was feeling petty and stuck his tongue out at them not helping their ire.

"Sorry, for that, after the whole thing with the Resistance, a lot of people were left without jobs. So I made this program to help get food around this year to those who can't afford it." Amy took him into the kitchen and he had to blink a couple a time to take in what he was seeing.

Food, so much FOOD.

Miss Vanilla was currently manning the stove and giving people directions like she was a head chef in a restaurant, not a movement out of place as she cooked and fluttered around to check everyone's progress. Beside her, and Knuckle’s was guessing is her assistant Shadow who was cutting the meats and veggies at lightning speed.

Cream, Chocola, and Cheese were doing the wrapping of aluminum and plastic to keep the food warm before fitting them in the bags already stuffed to the brim. The back door was open for some reason and just as Knuckles was going to bring a voice to his question a familiar blue blur came in and at least half the bags were gone.

At a much slower pace Silver and Big came to take the rest thus starting the process all over again.

"I was cooking but there were too many orders for my area and everyone was already here so I asked them for help. But the deliverers were having trouble with directions so i was delegated to calling and directing the deliveries instead and that fuss outside isn't helping." Amy huffed and rubbed her head as the familiar rustling of unhappy people outside made Knuckles narrow his eyes before it turned into a smirk.

It seems Amy went overboard with trying to help again and is getting stressed. That's a big no in Knuckles book especially at this time of the year where everyone is supposed to be slowing down and resting more. Even on the others, he can see the tiredness seeping into the bodies not wanting to fight nature’s call.

Amy had enough delivery dogs, and he doesn't think his cooking skills will be much help since Vanilla and Shadow seemed to be a well-oiled machine.

So that leaves only one thing to do to help ease his friend’s burden.

"Hey! Knuckles where are you going?"Amy called out to him as he marched back to the front door.

"I'm going to remind the people outside about *manners*. You already got your army working overtime, I can help by reducing the noise level." Knuckles cracked his namesakes but was stopped as something warm was thrown on his head. He took it into his hand and realized it was a thick warm pink jacket, he turned to Amy confused.

She just smiled gratefully and Knuckles felt happy as he already saw some tension leave her.

"I don't know why you don't get yourself a jacket. It was way too cold to have just a scarf. Take mine and don't be too persuasive now."

They both laughed as he put it on, giving her a salute as he closed the door behind him. The crowd from before were already yapping their complaints but they stopped cold at Knuckles glare.

"Listen here you bunch of ungrateful brats, they are working very hard in there to get you all fed. And behaving like jerks won't help you get it any faster. So, you’re going to sit here, shut up, and behave."

Someone in the middle of the line let out a disrespectful PFFFT before sticking their head out. A kind of turtle teenager who gave Knuckles an unimpressed look.

"Oooo, I'm so scared-"He shut up very quickly as Knuckles got into his face.

"You will be if you keep causing trouble."

A loud swallow and the teenager was shaking in his spot, and for extra measure Knuckles glared at the rest of them before nodding in satisfaction as the now cowed group. Going back to the front he played guard as everyone inside got work in a much more peaceful environment. Slowly but surely the people diminished as they got their promised food and apologies were given without Knuckles needing to do anything.

A tap to his shoulder woke him up and he looked around to see it was already dark and somehow he had fallen asleep at the door.

"Hey come inside we're all done Mr. Guardian." Knuckles shivered slowly as Amy took him in and lead him to the living room. Inside there were a lot more people than there was earlier, it made him chuckle a bit as he realized Amy really did put EVERYONE to work today. Guess they earned their winter foods today.

Vanilla was on the couch and while her posture was as perfect as ever she looked ready to slouch and take a nap. Young Cream curled into her mother with her Cheese and Chocola in her lap. Gemeral stood next to them not looking fazed but would occasionally pat Cream on the head. Vector sitting next to her with Espio resting against him knocked out and Charmy splayed across his lap.

Shadow was in the corner of the eyes closed and arms crossed leaning on Omega who had found the only space that didn't have anything breakable near him. Rogue had lost all her decorum and rested shamelessly on top of his metal head letting soft snores.

Big the cat was on the recliner and Froggy rested on his stomach. Even Sonic was asleep with a blanket thrown over him and Tails as they slept. Silver took the other couch and that’s where Amy led him to lay down and dropped a blanket on him.

"Here everyone is staying here tonight and we're going to work together to make our winter meals tomorrow."She said softly as she gave him a pillow and Knuckles didn't realize how tired he was until his head hit it. The warmth and companionship in the room was making him sleepy.

"Thanks for the help Knuckles."

"No problem Amy, now you got to sleep too you ever relentless meddler."

"Meddler; he calls me." It got him a tired giggle but he finally heard the girl leave to rest as she had thrown blankets on everyone. He was happy he was able to help even a little bit, hopefully, he can help more than just guard tomorrow.

As much as he hated winter, this is one benefit he will give it. An excuse to see his friends more often. Yes, he had Tikal and Chaos now, but Tikal was an ancient ghost who hasn't been in touch with the modern world for a long time and Chaos....well was Chaos. It felt lonely up there sometimes even if he did prefer his privacy and space.

It was good to see everyone, checking in on them and seeing how they were. He may not be able to verbally admit it but he had grown close with this strange group of misfits who somehow become friends from saving the world over and over.

He hated winter but Knuckles can admit it’s not all bad.

#amy rose #knuckles the echidna #sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #idw sonic #bonebreakjackwrites #i need more Amy and Knuckles bonding #knuckles is that big bro that comes out his gave once every thousand years to check on his friends and give out an ass whoopings that needed

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complicatedandstained · 6 years ago

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358 Nights: Stasis

It occurs to more than one of them that this is the most people that have ever sat around the Organization’s kitchen table at one time since the day the Dusks dragged it in from wherever it is the Dusks get anything.

Only four of them at a table meant to seat six, but the Organization members tend to give each other a wide berth—at least three yards of personal space a piece. This in order to avoid petty arguments, any one of which could spiral into maiming and dismemberment as easily as it could deescalate into a fit of giggles or a quick shag.

No emotions meant anything could happen at any given time.

So: three yards minimum. Unless you were fuck buddies. And sometimes even then.

Everyone’s waiting for Xigbar to break the silence and he doesn’t disappoint. Setting his palms on the table, he leans across it toward Saïx with singular, menacing intent. “It’s quarter to three. This had better be really fucking interesting. I, for one, had other plans.”

Saïx nods, unperturbed, like getting the objections over with is one of the bullet points in his meeting agenda.

“Yes, why are we meeting in the middle of the fucking night, in the middle of the fucking kitchen, Saïx?” Axel’s light, mocking tone eases some of the tension in the air as Xigbar chuckles. “Was the Round Room on reserve? You just have a craving for good food and good company?”

“He’s not likely to find either here,” Vexen quips, smirking, though, as usual, there’s no one around to laugh with him.

“Good company, eh?” Xigbar raises his brows, then elbows and grins at Axel. “This is getting kinkier than expected.”

Axel’s face remains impassive, but Vexen chokes.

Saïx stands up, thumbs pressing into the table, “Enough. We are here to discuss number XIII. Once we have done so, you may return to your precious regularly scheduled nocturnal activities, whatever, or whoever, they may be.”

“We couldn’t discuss number XIII, oh, say, in the daytime?” Axel continues blearily, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “With number XIII?”

Saïx does not deem this worthy of a response. “You three are the only ones aware of number XIII’s entire, unique history.”

“Cute little Ventus and his cute little murder weapon,” Xigbar offers, watching his companions for any signs of surprise and almost disappointed to find none. “Well, what of it? He back in a coma or some shit?”

Saïx and Vexen nod.

Xigbar smiles. “No shit. Again?”

“Fuck,” Axel blurts, and at the raised brows Saïx directs at him, amends, more neutrally. “Doubles our work load, doesn’t it?” He crosses his ankles and leans back in his chair, arms folding behind his head. “The slacker.”

“Double workload.” Xigbar rolls his eyes. “Must be Tuesday. So, I repeat, what of it?”

“What of it?” Vexen scoffs in exasperation. “Haven’t you fools noticed?”

Xigbar and Axel blink back at him with blank expressions.

Vexen sighs, tapping the pen in his hand against the clipboard he’s set on the table. He circles a bar graph and the pair lean in to get a better look at the finely printed labels.

“As you know, Ventus was presumed dead for approximately ten years. Since Roxas’ appearance, we have theorized that Ventus’ body entered into a kind of stasis, hidden somewhere in Castle Oblivion, while his mind—heart—what have you—found refuge in Sora’s. Thus, in Sora’s death, Ventus, managed to manifest again in the Nobody, Roxas.”

They have discussed as much before in more private meetings between pairs of them. So now they nod as though they get it, though even Vexen doesn’t fully comprehend the logistics of it all.

Magic, they figure, the easiest, if not the only, explanation.

“Roxas’ recent lab results show highly irregular activity,” Vexen continues, “which we hypothesize is the result of this stasis.

“Unlike other Nobodies, Roxas’ body is growing and changing. We are seeing seemingly impossible, dramatic spikes in hormonal activity as his body attempts to fast-forward through the growth he should have experienced, making up for lost time, as it were. As his body struggles to adapt he goes into long periods of hibernation, which thus far, seem relatively harmless, perhaps even beneficial.”

Vexen pauses here, though his fellow Nobodies keep their poker faces intact with a skill that would make Luxord tear up a little.

The silence carries on for a little too long. Axel coughs.

“So… what?” Xigbar tugs at the strap of his eye patch and leans to level his glare toward Vexen, voice dropping into a disgruntled growl, “We’re having a meeting so you can tell us Roxas is about to get really tall and really horny?”

Vexen glares back, a colder, more calculated thing, and straightens the edges of his stack of papers.

“We can expect to see accelerated growth and physical maturation, yes, in addition to the rapid strides in intelligence and abstract reasoning we have already noted in mission reports. He should then reach the level of maturity of a typical twenty-year-old male within a matter of months. And, to answer Xigbar’s question, at the time of stasis, he had likely already passed through much of the growth process known as puberty, so, it is likely the height difference will be marginal at best.”

Axel offers an exaggerated stretch and yawn. “Well, thank the Lord we met to discuss this.”

“As if it weren’t keeping you up at night,” Xigbar snickers back. “I can’t tell, are you disappointed or relieved?”

Twists of flame rise up from Axel’s knuckles, and Xigbar’s grin widens.

Saïx rolls his eyes and grabs Axel’s wrist, the blaze dying out. “Gentlemen, please.”

Saïx nods to Vexen to continue and with a disapproving scowl, he does.

“Roxas may also exhibit traits often characteristic of the quote-unquote teenager or young adolescent. While he will be spared the typical crushing emotional turmoil, he could still exhibit impulsiveness, poor decision making, identity crises, questioning of authority, and perhaps outright rebellion.

“And, of course, as Xigbar so crudely put it, perhaps an increase in sexual impulses, to boot.”

Xigbar reaches out a glove to prod at his neighbor’s cheek. “Close your mouth, Axel.”

Axel’s jaw snaps shut and his eyes narrow at Xigbar in warning, hand lighting up again.

“Axel has taken it upon himself to supervise number XIII,” Saïx directs at Xigbar, “nothing more.”

“Supervise, huh?” Xigbar shrugs, withdrawing his hand, settling back in his seat. “My mistake. No one in their right mind would hook up with their supervisor.” This remark is blatantly directed at Saïx, who spends suspicious amounts of time with Xemnas, and who blatantly ignores it.

The flames fan up Axel’s wrist, but, at a disapproving glance from Saïx, die down.

“It’s… just a lot to take in,” Axel mumbles for Vexen’s benefit.

Now Xigbar’s eyes roll. “As if. We’ve been noticing these changes for months now. I don’t need a lab coat to tell you the kid’s getting taller, smarter, and mouthier. I been watching it happen. I know you like to have show-and-tell for all your little experiments, Vex, but next time, send us, like, a bullet pointed memo, and give us all some extra shut eye, would ya?”

Ice crystals spread across the table top where Vexen’s hand rests, though he looks otherwise disengaged. “As usual, you seem to be failing to grasp the gravity of the situation. Chances are, he’ll be near Axel and Saïx’s age when the process is complete and his body reaches equilibrium. Roxas’ behavior will be highly erratic and the changes will be rapid and painful. Regardless of his age, with the keyblade, he is a force to be reckoned with. This will affect us all.”

Xigbar groans. “As usual, you seem to be failing to grasp that I couldn’t give fewer fucks.”

“I agree.” Saïx nods, and three mouths dip open. “All the more reason Roxas should continue to carry his weight. This will in no way serve as a pathetic excuse to shirk his duties when he can be bothered to stay awake. Roxas has a job to do, as have we all. I expect the three of you to see to it that he keeps his toes in line—impulses or no.”

Xigbar sits back, wondering if all this talk is really necessary, wondering why Saïx feels the relentless need to be so harsh toward Roxas, of all people, his single model employee. Roxas who completes every mission and then some. Roxas who never says no. Sure, the kid has a curious streak. Yeah, he’s a little more kind-hearted than the rest. But questioning authority? Rebellion? As if.

But then, he knows why Saïx is really getting pissy with XIII, and it has more to do with Axel’s hormones than Roxas’.

“Have I made myself clear?” Saïx demands, arms crossing.

“Yes, sir,” Vexen and Xigbar chorus solemnly.

Axel salutes, two fingers to his temple, voice saucy, taunting, “Yes, sir.”

“It goes without saying that this conversation is to be kept between the four of us. You are dismissed.” Saïx waves them off with a flick of his hand.

“They grow up so fast,” Xigbar croons, head shaking, as he and the scientist rise to head out and leave the children to their scheming. “Seems like just yesterday Lea and Isa were tykes, eh, Vexen?”

Axel and Saïx freeze entirely, and Vexen’s laughter drags cold air down each of their backs like fingernail scratches.

“How quickly they forget. It’s harder for us, I think. Different playground: same boys—bossing around adults, fighting over their toys, knocking each other down into the dirt.”

A flaming chakram slams into the wall between the pair of them, and they both veer to the sides.

“One more word,” Axel growls when they turn his way, “and I’ll set you on fire.”

Saïx says nothing, of course, merely glares, but the lack of a reprimand to Axel is support in its own way.

“Apologies, Saïx, Axel.” Vexen nods at each but smirks as he walks out. “I meant no offense.”

Xigbar stays, attention fixed solely on the red-head. “Careful who you threaten, hot shot.” Xigbar pries the weapon out of the wall and tosses it carelessly back as if it doesn’t singe his fingertips. “I can take a little heat. And if you’re not careful, I might bust your favorite toy.”

It’s Saïx who stands and catches the chakram, sets it down on the table, with a loud clink, unscathed. “I think you’ll find that like all of Axel’s toys, Roxas is well-kept and not so easily shattered.”

Xigbar’s mouth opens for a second before settling into a challenging smirk.

Axel whirls on Saïx, hand resting lightly on his forearm, as the man pulls out his chair and steps away. “C’mon, Saïx… it’s not like that…”

Saïx yanks his sleeve through Axel’s fingers and steps away, glaring at him with those unfamiliar gold eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Saïx walks out, and Xigbar and Axel can only watch him go.

“Well, that coulda gone better,” Xigbar mutters, still bemused.

Axel takes a step forward, the way Saïx departed, but this time, gloved, callused hands clutch his shoulders.

Xigbar’s voice settles into something quieter, “C’mon, Ax, let it go.”

Axel nods and turns to the other kitchen exit. Xigbar’s arm sweeps around Axel’s back and leads him out into the hall in the direction of their rooms.

Xigbar gestures down the dark, yawning path before them. “You heading to Roxas, then?”

Axel sighs, shrugs. “Might as well.”

A flame flickers in Axel’s palm, illuminating their path where the silvery glow of Kingdom Hearts can’t quite stretch from the window panes.

“So,” Xigbar begins conversationally. “You gonna tell the kid when he wakes up?”

Axel’s laugh is short and empty. “They’d murder me.”

“Eh, yeah,” Xigbar nods thoughtfully, “probably so.”

“He’s smart.” Axel’s arms cross, he glances down the hall for prying eyes. “He’ll figure it out on his own.”

“You better hope not.” They swing around a bend, automatically weaving left and right, avoiding one of the large divots Larxene put in the ground in a spat with Demyx. “Then they’ll murder him.”

“I won’t let it come to that.” Axel’s words sound light enough, but the genuine intent behind them makes Xigbar pause in his steps. Thoughtlessly, Axel lights the candles in their sconces on the walls around them and they watch each other, warily, their skin ghostly white in the flickering.

“You won’t be able to stop it,” Xigbar challenges and then pauses to glance around. “Ah, here’s where I ran into our little miscreant the other night on his way to see you of all people.”

“Why haven’t you turned us in?” Axel challenges in a low voice. “What do you want?”

“I’ll think of something.” Xigbar’s smile, his mocking tone, are inscrutable as ever. He sets his glove over the light in Axel’s hand and smoke passes between the pieces of leather as it goes out. “A ‘thank you’ might be a nice start.” Xigbar flicks his wrist and the torches extinguish, plunging them into solid darkness.

“…Thank you,” Axel murmurs. He can feel leather against his cheek, heat as Xigbar’s hand draws his face down, level with his, moisture and the rough scrape of stubble as unfamiliar lips press his cheek.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Axel feels a playful tug at the silver chain around his neck, and then nothing. Without another word, the pair of them split off.

Axel finds Roxas snoring in his bed. No sheets cover him; Roxas hates to be confined. He’s still wearing his coat and boots, but somebody would notice any efforts to make him more comfortable, and people are talking enough as it is.

Axel musses Roxas’ hair, and watches him breathe. He waits for his own breaths to slow to the same pace as Roxas’, and then, giving his hand a final squeeze, Axel slinks back out into the night, leaving no trace that he’s been around in the first place.

#kingdom hearts #axel #xigbar #saix #roxas #vexen #organization xiii #akuroku #akusai #xemsai #xigbar x axel #358 nights #my writing

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qqueenofhades · 6 years ago

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Hi. When can qqueenofhades come out and play again? We miss her.

Aha, nonnie. That is truly the million-dollar question. There remains the laundry list of things I am doing, trying to do, vainly imagining myself to do, and so on, while also trying not to go crazy (which is a full-time job in itself right now) and I just have not had the energy for social media. I rarely use Facebook anyway, but I think I’ve posted there like…once in two months, and as everyone here has noticed, I have kind of gone into hibernation except to reblog pretty pictures and such. I… cannot be sure when this will be over, but rest assured that I am alive and doing my best. Just not always where you can see.

I do have not one but two novels currently in progress (I was not expecting the second one, but it dive-bombed out of nowhere a few days ago and here we are) and am enjoying writing long-form original stuff very much. TBDD is still on hiatus while I am taking some space, alas. I am mostly trying to navigate through a difficult, stressful, and horribly uncertain chunk of post-PhD life while trying to convince myself that I will ever get a job somewhere and then the hell out of here, which is not easy. That, as noted, also takes a lot of energy.

Anyway: the news remains the same on this end, at least for now, and I will let you know when it changes. I do very much appreciate you checking up on me, and believe me, I wish I had the spoons to interact and update more frequently. Until then, Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant, and etc.

#anonymous #ask

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anchanted-one · 6 years ago

Text

Eternal War. 28. The Alliance

The Gravestone docked at one of the larger hangars. Stepping out into the sun, Arro took a deep breath of the fresh forest air. He hadn’t been prepared for how beautiful the planet would be; the most azure of blue skies, rugged cliffs, blue and silver streams, and emerald forests. Reaching out with the Force, he was pleased to find that this world held a deep natural affinity for it; it was vibrant and strong. He stretched out his senses and felt the vast river of light that was the Force energize him and lift his spirits.

“This is a beautiful world!” Arro sighed happily.

“I’m glad you approve,” Lana said with a chuckle. “It certainly is a good honeymoon destination. And speaking of which, we never really got the chance for ours. We’re going to Spira the first chance we get!”

“For you my Heart, we could leave right now!”

“Oh no we don’t! We’re waiting until you’re nice and recovered before you do anything too strenuous.”

Read on AO3

Arro joined the others in looking around interestedly. Parts of the base were still under construction but the essentials stood strong: several hangars for ships of up to three hundred meters’ length, a Command Center, Heavy Turbolaser Turrets for both air and ground defense, long-range sensors, Shield Generators, and power generators—geothermal and hydroelectric.

“I like what you’ve done with the place!” Theron Shan nodded approvingly. “So we’re working on the Cantinas and barracks complexes next before we expand training facilities, right?”.

“And that’s not even where it ends,” Lana said proudly. “We will be building farming and industrial settlements as well, to aim for some self-sufficiency. We had planned to make this a mid- or even long-term settlement in case this turned into a long war. We hadn’t counted on the Gravestone yet.”

“You’ve established a permanent colony here!” Arro was impressed. “A stronghold, even!”

“Why here?” Koth asked.

“It’s remote, undiscovered, away from most Zakuulan hyper lanes, unsettled, and strong in the Force. But unlike Tython or Korriban, this world is balanced—it doesn’t lean Light or Dark, not even a bit.”

Farya nodded, impressed. “How’d you find it?”

Lana shrugged modestly. “The Force guided me here. I’ve always had a strong connection to it.”

Senya barked a laugh. “That would have sounded more impressive if Arro hadn’t uncovered the Gravestone like it was nothing!”

Chuckling again, Lana gestured to the people gathering around them. They seemed to come from all walks of life; Imperial, Republic, and even some Zakuulans; Soldiers, Jedi, Sith, mercenaries, engineers, scientists, and pilots; all from dozens of species. “This is our new Alliance now.”

“We need to give it a name,” Arro said. “The ‘Odessen Alliance’ sounds right!”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Koth nodded impatiently, nudging Arro forward. “Now show them what you’re made of.”

“Hello!” Arro nervously smiled at everyone. “My name is Arro. Err- I’m a Jedi.”

Arro was increasingly impressed by his tour of the different enclaves; Military, Logistics and Information, Science and Technology, and Force. Each were getting beyond optimal levels of output with limited resources. The Smuggler hero Hylo Visz just winked when asked where they were getting their funds from, though she did sober up and explain that they would need to find a better sponsor fast. “I have someone looking into that though,” she said, expression between fond and irritated. “He and his partners are working on getting us a large slush-fund that should help us keep the doors open for the next few years.”

The respected Hutt scientist, Doctor Illip Oggurobb, was just as enthusiastic about his research as Arro remembered. “While we are ahead in some ways, in others we are outclassed. In this hallowed temple of science, I aim to reduce that gap, eliminate it entirely, then widen it again but in our favor this time. To that end I will need to gather the best minds the galaxy has to offer, and get us all creating together.”

Arro grinned. “I expect nothing less, Doctor. And with you as Head of our Science Enclave I think we stand a very real chance of accomplishing that goal.”

Oggurobb nodded approvingly. Arro continued. “I have another little riddle for you; the riddle of the Carbonite Poisoning.”

“Aah yes!” The Hutt boomed delightedly. “As we discussed during the holocall, it would be my pleasure to study your symptoms to study the effect of long term Carbonite imprisonment on your mental faculties, in addition to that rare poisoning.”

“You’re in luck since I’m still suffering from hibernation sickness. I need to rest and recover anyways, so I won’t be doing anything too stressful for the next few weeks. You should have me to yourself for a while. Just don’t do anything invasive without my approval.”

“‘Without my approval’, he says!” Oggurobb laughed. “Not to worry, I am not one of those hacks who needs to cut open his patients to study their symptoms. A few interviews, and blood and tissue samples are all I need.”

The Military Enclave was led by Admiral Bey’wan Aygo, and consisted of professional soldiers of all specialties from all sides of the war, as well as beings that had served with local militias and police forces. There were many more present than Arro had expected, and despite their different origins, saluted as one when he arrived to inspect them. They wore their old uniforms, but their chestplates were striped blue and red, and the insignias on their shoulders bore a fused Republic and Sith device. “Amazing recruitment efforts, eh, Jedi?” The Bothan Admiral grinned. “Many soldiers here who, uh, disagree with the tyranny of Arcann’s rule, seen the tributes slowly sucking the life out of countless worlds. And ever since the Battle of Asylum, our feelers are picking up more and more recruits every hour. Within a few weeks, we should have a force numbering in the tens of thousands! With these numbers we can maintain a decent garrison here, while also forming special units for surgical strikes.”

“I am most impressed, Admiral.” Arro bowed. Aygo’s Second in command, Commodore Pardex called a command and the troops dispersed in good order.

“There is one thing, however.” The Bothan brought Arro’s attention to a holoprojector displaying an Orbital station. “These are what Zakuulans call ‘Star Fortresses’. They’ve been built around dozens of key worlds like Corellia, Dromund Kaas, Coruscant, and many others. These are heavily armed bases that are meant to keep these worlds in line—and to punish them if they rebel. We will need to destroy as many of these as we can, in as short a timespan as possible. Trouble is, they’re shielded and armored. They have turrets and missile launchers to defend against air raids, and sizable garrisons under command of an elite bunch called ‘Exarchs’. We still know next to nothing about them, but during your rescue, Lana secured a lot of data, including schematics of the Star Fortresses. These are still being decrypted though. I recommend they be our first priority as soon as they’re decrypted.”

“Very Well, Admiral.” Arro nodded. “Once you know what you need, let me know, we can begin putting together a concrete plan.”

The Force Enclave was what Arro had been looking forward to—and apprehensive about the—most. Both Jedi and Sith had been hit hard by Zakuul’s war. There weren’t supposed to be many of either Order left. Certainly not enough for a Round Two. And led by a Voss Mystic, who for all their gifts in foresight, knew nothing of Jedi or Sith. Add to that their ancient rivalry and he was worried about them working together. It had taken the combined wills of Darth Marr and Grand Master Satele to keep the alliance at Yavin IV together.

But when he entered the enclave he was greeted by a sight that greatly lifted his spirits. The Jedi and Sith were each doing their own tasks—and some were even working together. There were even some Voss present. Among the Jedi there were many he recognized, including Jasme Shan, Theron’s twin sister. She bounced over to him with her typical enthusiasm when she saw him enter.

“Arro! Arro, you’re here, you’re really here!” She beamed, wringing his hands.

“So they tell me!” Arro smiled at her. “It’s good to see you again Jasme. I was happy to hear that you made it through the war alright.”

“Made it through alright?” Jasme repeated, amused. “I worked in the archives, remember?”

“That doesn’t automatically make you safe, remember?”

Jasme had been on Tython during the attack orchestrated by the Revanites. She had only narrowly escaped death—Darth Prowle had spared all unarmed personnel, including Force-wielders if they surrendered. Under any other Sith commander, the order would have been to kill.

“Well, that’s true,” she admitted, joy fading. Her angular features turned downcast as she recalled memories that no doubt haunted her dreams. “Zakuul attacked Tython as well. But unlike the Sith, their attack began with an orbital strike. Me, several other archivists, and Master Zoran secured our master Holocron and as many other sources and relics as possible and took shelter in the bunker when it started. There weren’t many of us left by then, so Master Zoran ordered everyone to just surrender without a fight when the Zakuulans landed. There was no ground attack, but there were casualties in the bombardment itself.”

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that,” Arro whispered, silently adding to himself Again.

“Well, after that the Zakuulans pulled back, and we that survived left with the relief force once it arrived. There was no Order left for us on Tython. Only ghosts.”

“But here on Odessen,” a gentle voice said. “We can begin anew.” The voice belonged to the Voss Mystic who led this assorted bunch.

“Mystic Sana-Rae,” Arro bowed to her. “A pleasure to meet you in person. I see you’re off to a splendid start. I am most grateful for your talent.”

“Thank you. But your gratitude is not necessary,” she murmured. “The Mystics see; the Voss respond. We do what we must to protect Voss. In working with you, we serve the Galaxy, we serve Voss. It is we who are honored, Commander.”

In the Throne Room of the Eternal Empire, Akahte stood nearby as Emperor Arcann and his sister High Justice Vaylin watched a very disturbing Holorecording. A sped-up recording of just over a dozen technicians working desperately at their terminals. Right behind them stood the dreaded Outlander himself, he who had killed the Immortal Emperor. He stood with a look of intense concentration on his face, staring at everything through eyes half-closed. His eyeballs seemed a blur as they shifted focus across several different subjects every second. Flashing emergency beacons lighting the background hinted at the cacophony of alarms wailing in the background. As time passed, the signs that something was wrong started to disappear; there were fewer sparks and discharges, the smoke lessened, and machinery that looked ready to rupture from the stress began to settle down, their load having been apparently shunted. The recording slowed to normal time, and things in the feed returned to normal as well, before power was abruptly cut off and it went dark. The video dissolved to show an alien of the Zakuulan territories. A Khroovan.

“My name is Caradha,” the woman spoke. “I have tried to process these events over the past week. Here are the facts. While chasing the Outlander, our High Justice Vaylin purposely damaged a reactor hoping to kill him. She was willing to allow hundreds of thousands of us to die in order to kill one man, the Outlander. Granted, this man is her father’s killer, but Princess Vaylin has made no secret of the fact that she despised her father. On the other hand, the Outlander. An enemy of Zakuul, imprisoned for five years and in near-critical condition from said imprisonment, he chose to save me, save us. He could have run. He would have made it out, if only just. But he risked his life to save us. The people of the Eternal City. Who is friend, and who is foe, I wonder?”

She took a deep breath. “The more we of Zakuul tried to tell the Core worlders of what their ‘Hero’ had done, the stronger the voices of his support. The entire galaxy, including his enemies the Sith, refused to accept our voices of slander. And now I know why. Brothers, sisters, Gentlebeings of Zakuul. In the last five years, we have tried to ignore the tyranny of our Emperor Arcann, of his gluttonous Chimaera of a sister. But it has come time to stop. We cannot in good conscience bow down to them any longer. On the one hand I hesitate to ask an outsider to determine our fate, yet there is no one else strong enough to oppose Arcann. Gods have mercy on me, I cast my lot in with the Outlander, in the pursuit of a better society—the one Zakuul was meant to be. I am one of hundreds, already. Stand with us. Stand for Zakuul.” With that the recording ended.

Akahte was impressed. This woman boldly identified herself, practically daring a reprisal. Whether it came or not, she would win. She would either be a martyr or a leader. And she had wondered how that reactor hadn’t blown. She had chalked it up to the dumbest of luck, but to see that her one-time ally had in fact had a hand in this—had used the Force in some way that eluded even her—well, she always did know he was not to be taken lightly.

She didn’t see Arcann’s response. With a hiss like a charging leopard, Vaylin burst out of the room, and Akahte hastened to follow.

“A ‘Gluttonous Chimaera’,” she seethed. “That’s what she called me.”

“Oh Vaylin—”

“Mother used to tell me stories.” Vaylin’s eyes were bloodshot, tears welling up which she was refusing to shed. “When I was born, they called me the ‘Jewel of Zakuul’!” Her voice was cracking, emotion leaking through her ability to control them. “Now they call me a Chimaera!”

“They don’t know what Valkorion did to you,” Akahte murmured soothingly. “If you are a monster, it’s because He tried His hardest to turn you into one. But you can rise above that! Show yourself that you are better!”

Vaylin didn’t respond in words, but Akahte could feel the question burning white-hot within her. Am I really though?

#swtor #star wars #fanfic #Eternal War #OC: Arro #OC: Akahte #Lana Beniko #Koth Vortena #Theron Shan #senya tirall #Vaylin #Arcann

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ichigopanhpff · 6 years ago

Text

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 20

We’ve reach chapter 20! Does anyone really read this thing though? lol

SPOILER ALERT: This is leading up to the Redemption Arc, so there’s a bit of spoiler to the main story here. This one is a much shorter chapter compared to the last one.

Read. Ch. 19 | Masterlist

With November coming to a close, winter was in full swing. There was always something about the cold in Japan that made Ren want to bury her body under a kotatsu and hibernate. She lethargically emerged from the her warm cocoon of her bed to get ready for class. The chill of the air made her shudder aloud and rubbed her arms furiously to stay warm. Putting on her designated “home hoodie,” she grabbed her belongings to wash up downstairs. Even after fully clothed, 1-A’s resident advisor found herself moving much slower than she liked. And her monthly visitor’s cramps did little to help. She saw Asui coming down with half-lidded eyes and yawned aloud.

“I’m sorry, ribbit,” the amphibian girl apologized and rubbed one of her eyes. “Winter is always hard for me.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Tsuyu-chan,” Ren agreed and proceeded to boil water for some tea. “Would you like some? Maybe it’ll help wake you up.”

Asui slowly nodded and let out another yawn.

Leaning her head on the refrigerator door, the pink-haired girl found herself drifting asleep, only to be rudely woken up by Bakugou.

“If you’re gonna sleep, don’t do it somewhere where people need to grab stuff,” he exasperatingly refuted and pinched her cheek hard to get her to move.

The stinging from the pinch woke her up halfway as the electric kettle turned off automatically. Heaving a heavy sigh, she wobbled over to the other counter and made English Breakfast tea for herself and Asui. Adding a splash of milk and half a spoon of sugar, she stifled a yawn before sipping the hot beverage. She then handed the second cup to the napping frog girl, to which she thanked her for. Heaving a long sigh, she grabbed two pieces of toast and munched on it like a turtle.

Class went by in a blur and Ren managed to halfway wake up just as the day ended. The classroom door to 2-A suddenly slid open and revealed a very excited Ito with something in his hand.

“Everyone! The photos from the festival have been printed!” her classmate announced.

“About time!” one student chimed.

The class crowded over Ito as he opened the album and flipped through until they found the group shot of their class.

“Whoa! We look out of this world!” Tomoe exclaimed.

“I do have to say, the costume team did a wonderful job,” Seri commended. “My dress was so comfortable to move around.”

“And thanks for adding that last minute train to mine,” Ren sighed out. “It was much appreciated.”

“You’re still sensitive ‘bout that?” Tomoe asked with a tone of surprise. “Dude, let it go. Flaunt it.”

“I absolutely refuse to,” the pink-haired girl deadpanned and blushed. “I don’t want it to be bodysuit-gate all over again.”

“Speaking of your costume, Takahiro,” Ito interjected with a sly smile. “Your photo was one of the top three most requested for reprints next to Hadou-senpai’s.”

She blinked stupidly.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“This one.” He flipped to the page where her photo had the full page spread of a mid-action shot from when she jumped off of the swing. She let out a panicked scream.

“It seems the audience was quite entranced by your wisp character,” Hayasaka remarked, staring at the photo. “Maybe it was a blessing in disguise I injured my ankle and helped backstage instead.”

“Your quirk would’ve made the wisp freakin’ legendary!” she reasoned. “I did what I could while running on 3 hours of sleep and barely remembered half the shit I did!”

“So?” Akiyama huffed. “ I was on energy drinks and was awake for nearly 36 hours making all the costume adjustments.”

“Well no matter,” Miyake disregarded. “What’s important is the festival was a huge success and we were able to pull off the performance thanks to your help, Takahiro.”

Heading back to 1-A, she found Aizawa with the Big Three and Eri-chan sitting on the couch. She overheard Aizawa saying U.A. was now in charge of her well-being. Before Ren was able to go over to say hi, Togata and Aizawa waved her, Uraraka, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima out the door to talk.

“It seems like Eri-chan’s parents abandoned her,” their homeroom teacher revealed. “And her closest blood relative is the boss of the Hassaikai, who is currently in a coma. So she has no where to go.”

“You may have heard this from sensei, but her horn is the source of her quirk,” Togata chimed in and tapped the left part of his forehead.

“We heard it shrunk and everything was good though...” Kirishima replied.

“The horn seems to have grown a bit recently,” the third year blond revealed.

“So… we need to make sure “that” doesn’t happen again?” Ochaco asked, thinking back to what happened to Midoriya after Overhaul was taken down with Eri’s quirk.

“That’s why her transfer was U.A. rather than a foster home,” Aizawa summarized. “I’ll be watching over her in the teacher’s lounge to monitor her situation. Hopefully, we can find a way to work out her power.”

“Aizawa-sensei, it seems like you’re taking on a lot of work,” Asui said with a tone of worry.

“This is where, I, friend of Eri-chan and student-on-hiatus, come in!” Togata shouted happily with both hands on hips hero pose.

“We’ll be busy but you can visit her every once in a while,” Aizawa finalized to which those present agreed to.

“If Eri-chan’s mind and body are stable then maybe...” Amajiki clasped a hand on Togata’s shoulder. “The return of the fearless hero could be soon.”

“That’d be nice,” Togata replied with a dry laugh.

“Third years, this is sudden, but can I leave Eri with you for a bit? I have something do.”

“Of course!” Togata enthusiastically agreed.

The first years were asked to return to their dorms to receive some guests. Ren followed them back in and saw the Wild Wild Pussycats talking with the class. She remembered from the report Aizawa gave her they were there at the training camp when the villains attacked. The resident advisor politely greeted and introduced herself to the idol heroes, noticing a small boy bashfully standing with Midoriya.

Talks of their return to the spotlight and the JP Hero Billboard Chart came about; the list of heroes aggregated twice a year based on their level of contribution to society, approval ratings, popularity, etc.

The following night, everyone tuned into the official announcement of the top 10 heroes. As expected, Endeavor was in the number one spot, with Hawks moving up to second. The R.A. glanced over at the bi-hair coloured boy, unflinching and expressionless watching the ceremony. His back almost felt distant from everyone. She wanted to ask how he was feeling about all this, but didn’t want to pry into something that’s not her business.

The next day, everyone was doing their own thing in the dorms. The TV could be heard in the background as several 1-A students hung out in the common area; Ren was huddled on the corner of a couch knitting. Some of the guys were talking and joking around with a few of the girls.

Kirishima, however, was entranced and emotionally invested with how fast their R.A. was going through the yarn, trying to figure out how she was creating something tangible from a thread like magic. Stopping momentarily, she counted her stitches and clicked her tongue. Muttering under her breath, she immediately removed the needle and unraveled a row. The spiky redhead exclaimed loudly as she did it, catching her attention.

“Did something happen?” she looked up and blinked in surprise.

“Gah, you worked so hard at it and you’re taking it apart?!” Kirishima groaned out. “Just leave it!”

“It’ll be uneven if I did. Besides,” she looked down to smooth out the yarn thread before starting again. “One row is nothing. I can remake it in my sleep.”

“What are you making anyway?”

“Something for Eri-chan,” she answered mid-stitch and picked up the rhythm after figuring out where she went wrong. “Christmas is coming up and I figured I’d give this to her as a present.”

“Oh that’s right!” Ashido chimed in. “We should all do something as a class!”

“We can’t exactly go off campus to have a party,” Kaminari lamented and leaned back on the couch across. “Kacchan and Todoroki still have their provisional lessons too.”

“How about we throw a party here after those two take their licensing exam?” Ren suggested and looked up. “As for presents...”

“We can do a Secret Santa!” the pink-skinned girl excitedly proposed.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Hagakure agreed and clapped her hands together.

“Looks like we got a plan!” Uraraka eagerly said. “I’m getting excited!”

“Mina-chan, I’ll let you take care of the Secret Santa details then, budget and everything,” Ren directed.

“Roger!” The alien queen saluted with a wink and toothy grin before heading up to her room.

The TV suddenly turned to a breaking news screen, showing part of a city in ruins somewhere in Kyushu with the headline “Endeavor, Number One Hero, Fighting Engineered Nomu.” The camera then pans into a bloodied Endeavor laying on top of rubble. The once vibrant common room fell silent with shocked eyes on the screen. Midoriya grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to hear the newscast. Ren dropped her knitting needles and clasped her hands to her mouth.

Feeling a new presence, those sitting on the couch turned to see a shocked Todoroki staring at the TV. It was like time suddenly slowed down and all the noise faded away from the loud beating of his pulse in his ear. Ren could only look on at the boy with extreme worry.

“Todoroki!” Kirishima called, with Midoriya following right after.

“The scene here, is sadly reminiscent of the nightmare from three months ago...” the caster presented.

The camera zoomed in at the Nomu beginning to walk away, with Endeavor immediately getting back up and rushed the monster with his flames. The scene then cuts to civilians panicking and screaming as they’re trying to escape from the disaster.

“This is society without a symbol of peace!” the live voice over strongly stated.

The main entrance of the dorm bursted open, revealing Aizawa running to them.

“Todoroki...” he panted. “You already saw what’s going on?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” the red and white colored haired boy uttered out nervously.

“Stop saying that crap already!” A voice from the TV abruptly shouted, revealing an angry young boy on camera. “Open your eyes before you say that crap! Especially at a time like this! You still see those flames up, right?! Endeavor’s still alive and fighting! So don’t give up just cus the other guy’s gone!”

Panicked pedestrians were still pushing the boy, but he wasn’t giving up.

“He’s still out there risking it for all of us! Can’t you see?!”

The camera changed back to the aerial view they have of the fight. As the broadcast continued on, everyone watched on with bated breath, hoping for a good outcome for Todoroki’s sake. Endeavor’s flames discharged with intensity out of his body and at the Nomu. Hawks then came from behind to assist him with his feathers. By now, the newscaster had changed her tone.

“Dad...” Todoroki’s voice quivered out with strength. “I’m watching!”

All they could see on the screen was a blinding exploding supernova in the sky on the screen and in that instant, two falling figures dropped from the sky at an alarming rate. After the smoke cleared, the victor was clear.

There he was, Endeavor bloodied and beaten up holding a victorious pose with his right fist up in the air and a super crispy Nomu on the ground.

“It’s Endeavor! He’s standing tall in victory, no! Standing tall for his beginning!” the newscaster shouted in elation. The once panicking crowd then erupted into screams and cheers. The other students jumped off of their seats and ran to over to him. Any energy Todoroki had was completely zapped when he squatted down and breathed a sigh of relief and placed his hands together over his forehead. But that peace didn’t last long as the surrounding area was engulfed with blue flames.

“It’s him!” Aizawa stated. “What’s he thinking being out in the open like that?!”

“The League of Villains is here! It’s league member Dabi!” the newscaster announced. “He’s surrounded Endeavor and Hawks with a wall of flames!”

The three got into a confrontation and a fight started breaking out, but was soon broken up by Mirko’s powerful kick.

“You’re one of those League of Villains bastards ain’tcha?!” she proclaimed. “I’ll kick your ass till kingdom come!”

As fast as Dabi came, he disappeared with a black essence coming out of his mouth. And moment of silence filled the void, with only the TV caster announcing the fight was won. Heaving another soul-leaving sigh, Todoroki gathered the strength in his legs and slowly stood back up. Aizawa took him to the side to talk one-on-one. All Ren could do was look on like an outsider.

After a quick discussion, 1-A’s homeroom teacher gave special permission for him to go home for a few days. With the rest of the students retreating back to their respective rooms, Ren decided to stop by Tororoki’s to check on him. She stood in front of his room door and swallowed hard, her right hand freezing mid-air.

What kind of face would he show her?

Would he even want to talk?

Was she here as his friend, the R.A. or something else?

Gathering what courage she had, the door opened just as she was about to knock. She met his hetero-chromatic eyes expressing surprise. All she could do was stand there in stupor, unable to move.

“Ren-senpai...” he softly greeted. “Did you need something?”

“Huh? I, er, uh…” she stammered out at a higher pitch than she liked, feeling her cheeks get warm and looked down at her now fumbling hands. “I-I just wanted to see how you were d-doing and–”

She cleared her throat and calmed herself from her botched words.

“I came by to see how you were doing, that’s all,” she managed to get out and looked away.

Todoroki merely blinked at her slowly. It took him all of his willpower to not pull her into his room and embrace her. He wanted to feel her warmth to comfort him, but he had to hold back. Anyone could come out of their rooms at any moment and would misunderstand their relationship.

But… what was their relationship exactly?

He wanted to say more, but all he could default to was, “I’m fine. Aizawa-sensei’s letting me go home tomorrow to see my siblings and my dad.”

“Oh, right. I’ll… leave you to it then,” she said with a look of distance in her eyes.

Watching her small form walk away from his door, Todoroki felt that sensation bubbling up again. The tinge of pain in his chest she’ll disappear if he dared look away for one second. His hand instinctively grabbed a hold of her wrist, jolting her muscles and turned her head. He looked at her with loneliness reflecting off of his glassy gaze.

“Todo-kun?” she questioned.

Realizing what he’d done, he immediately released his hold.

“I-I’m sorry...” he whispered and grabbed his hair by the roots, looking away with shame. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ren slowly walked back and stood in front of him with a softened gaze.

“Just remember it’s okay to not be okay,” she gently spoke with an encouraging smile, making sure to keep a moderate distance from physical contact in case anyone saw. “You have people on your side to help.”

#bnha season four #bnha season 4 #mha season four #mha season 4 #bnha todoroki #todoroki shōto #todoroki shouto #mha oc #bnha oc #bnha endeavor #mha endeavor #bnha hawks #mha hawks #bnha todoroki enji #mha enji todoroki #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers

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putschki1969 · 6 years ago

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My thoughts regarding the latest news

While writing my reply to @chibalein‘s post I realised my text was getting way too long so I decided to make a separate post with some of my thoughts.

Here goes nothing. This is gonna get long so grab yourself some cookies and a cup of tea. I have a LOT to say. I would really appreciate if people took the time to read through all of this because I am seeing a lot of fans making accusations, judging decisions, etc without being properly informed.

I am having trouble organising my thoughts so please bear with me, I will try to keep this as structured as possible. There are a few things I would like to address.

To start with, I would like to shortly throw in my thoughts regarding yesterday’s statement from Space Craft because I am seeing many people once again accusing the agency of malicious intent. I personally do not think that people should attach too much weight or importance to it. It’s a mere formality that proves they are finally getting their act together. It took them long enough to deal with the situation. They purposefully left Kalafina in a sort of limbo state because it was the easiest thing to do. But they couldn’t have gotten away with that forever. From an agency’s point of view they really had no other choice than to finally make an announcement if they wanted to appear like a serious company again. With this statement they created a clear turning point, they provided something fans have been asking for in the past year…. Closure. Also, a clear separation between Kalafina’s and Wakana’s activities. They gave fans what they wanted and yet, fans are complaining. I actually salute them for having the guts to describe it as “disbandment” instead of “hiatus”. Even YK seemed to have been surprised by the use of such a “strong” word. But honestly, while it is common in Japanese to use blandishing obscuration tactics to make everyone feel better, for Space Craft to use the word “hiatus” would have just extended the “limbo state” of Kalafina. There is really no point for Space Craft to sweet talk the matter, I do not see any chances for Kalafina to reunite again under Space Craft so why make anyone believe otherwise? [More on that later] However, Space Craft announcing the “disbandment” of Kalafina does in no way shape or form stop the girls from getting back together. Maybe it cannot be under the name “Kalafina” [I do believe Space Craft owns major rights to that – hence Keiko’s failure to claim the registered trademark] but there are many other options out there. YK also alluded to them coming together again if the fates allowed it. So really, this announcement does not change anything. One day we will see them together again, I am sure of it. Fans keep asking why Hikaru and Keiko have not joined YK’s agency already but tell me, what would be the point of doing that? Unlike the other artist that have recently become a part of YK’s company, the members of Kalafina have never had the chance to do their own thing. It’s about time they get a bit of independence. So for the time being, the focus is on the individual careers of each member so we shouldn’t hold our breath for a reunion. Following your own dreams takes time, it is not done within a few months or even a year. Once they have achieved what they set out to do, they will surely be more than happy to come together again.

Regarding the responses by Keiko/Hikaru/YK: I am actually surprised that such a big deal is made out of all of this. Yes, people are happy and relieved to hear from Keiko again but really, we are only hearing from her via proxy and that’s no different from the other times we got news about her (mostly through Hikaru). We already knew that Keiko was alive and doing well and Hikaru has confirmed multiple times that she is still in contact with Keiko and Wakana. I know there are many fans who like to entertain the idea of Keiko being miserable and forced into hibernation but really, there is no indication whatsoever that this was anything but her own choice. Also, I do not really understand why them going their separate ways is treated asv”breaking news”. Everyone acts as if the members of Kalafina had never talked about following their individual dreams before. Actually, this is not a new announcement at all. Yes, I will admit, there has never been a big post about it on the blog but they did most definitely mention it in a couple of their final interviews (e.g. this interview here) so it was certainly no secret. This is why I do not believe there was any sort of contractual ban that stopped them from talking about the matter. They literally do not say anything here that hasn’t been said before. The way they are saying it is just a bit more frank and straightforward I guess but that’s to be expected after such a frank announcement by Space Craft.

Regarding Kalafina under Space Craft: I promised I would elaborate on this topic so here is why I think Kalafina has no chance under Space Craft and why announcing the disbandment was the right thing to do for the agency. This part is based on speculation since we do not know what went on behind the scenes. I apologise, I usually do not like to speculate but this time, there is no way around it. As mentioned before, Space Craft most likely owns major rights to Kalafina as “institution”. When YK left the agency she couldn’t just bring the group along with her. In the same interview I previously linked to (CLICK ME) Keiko alluded to the fact that music that wasn’t as genuine as YK’s works was not really worth being pursued. I am assuming this is why she was the first to leave. She probably couldn’t imagine Kalafina without YK. I think this might also be the reason why she was so adamant about getting those trademark rights. With the rights, Kalafina could have simply transitioned to YK’s company and things would have stayed the same. But that obviously wasn’t meant to be and I actually doubt it’s something they all wholeheartedly wanted. If YK and the girls had united their efforts to get the trademark rights, a small company like Space Craft wouldn’t have stood a single chance. But for whatever reason they chose not to do that. I believe they all ended up agreeing that it was about time to go separate ways. After ten years of working together, it is a natural progression after all. It might not have happened as intended due to various circumstances but at the end of the day it is something that would have happened eventually anyways. Space Craft is claiming to have tried their best to have Kalafina resume their activities and I am inclined to believe them. They have no reason to lie about it and it would have been in their best interest because Kalafina has always been their main source of income. But it seems like neither Keiko nor Hikaru were very happy with the conditions offered by the agency or else they wouldn’t have left. Space Craft hired people like Satoshi Takebe and Shusui, composers who are now working together with Wakana. Those very people would most likely have been involved with Kalafina’s future work and I guess that wasn’t something the girls necessarily wanted for “Kalafina”. Instead of completely changing the image of Kalafina, they opted to try new things. To be honest, I don’t really see Keiko trying her luck as a full-time solo artist (but she certainly will not stop singing), simply because she has always said that unlike Wakana and Hikaru she has never wanted to become a singer. I guess she chose a different path (but we won’t know for sure until she decides to tell us - IF she decides to open up about it). Hikaru on the other hand is very passionate about being a singer so she is definitely continuing to pursue a music career. As a small company, Space Craft hadn’t much to offer to Hikaru, there probably weren’t a lot of attractive opportunities for someone like Hikaru. Chances are high that she would have been shoe-horned into a formulaic/mainstream image so in order to avoid that she chose to leave. As for Wakana, there were apparently few good opportunities offered to her and she decided to make use of them. With the help of Space Craft she has seamlessly transitioned into a solo artist but of course, she is now being marketed as a very mainstream pop singer. Not that that is anything bad. Wakana obviously does not mind and really, there is no shame in being a mainstream pop-singer. Especially since she now gets the chance to express herself more, something she wasn’t able to do before. But yeah, there are many fans who are not liking it but I guess that’s a small price to pay for this new-found freedom. I completely understand why Wakana chose to stay with Space Craft, she clearly didn’t want to leave the familiar territory. She gets to experiment but at the same time she has a safety net to rely on, I think Wakana is the type of person that really needs something like that whereas Hikaru and Keiko are more independent and stubborn. Having said all that, I don’t see why Kalafina should reunite under Space Craft, that wouldn’t make any sense to me. If they couldn’t make it work before, they won’t make it work in the future. So yeah, announcing the disbandment was the right way to go in my opinion.

Regarding accusations against Wakana: With Space Craft’s announcement and today’s responses from YK, Hikaru and Keiko I have started to notice an increasing amount of hate towards Wakana which is absolutely baffling to me. People are seriously turning against Wakana. How can you have so little respect? The accusations are all baseless of course, people are literally just out there trying to cause drama but really, do you have no shame?! How dare you!! People seem to think that just because Wakana chose to stay with Space Craft this somehow implies that she was the cause for everything that has happened, for the “disbandment”. Think again…Life is not a soap opera. First Space Craft was the big baddie, now both Wakana and Space Craft are the enemy. Why does there need to be an evil guy? It’s like people HAVE to find someone to hate. Yes, mistakes have been made, unfortunate circumstances came together, shit piled up but honestly, I do not believe that any of the involved parties are inherently evil or wanted things to go down the drain. Sometimes things just don’t work out and you have to deal with it. Also, Wakana is accused of being inconsiderate for tweeting nonchalantly while all of this information is being published. Please enlighten me, what exactly is she supposed to do or say? YK, Keiko and Hikaru apparently felt the need to address the issue because they have all been more or less quiet on the matter but Wakana has been super vocal about all of this from the get-go. In countless interviews she has talked about how much her time in Kalafina means to her, how much the songs mean to her, how much she respects YK, how she now wants to venture into new directions to pursue her dreams. Why would she say all of this again just because of a formal announcement that literally has no bearing on anything? With her solo album and tour coming up, Wakana is on a very busy schedule so she doesn’t need this sort of drama. And yes, I am sure the agency would prefer for Wakana not to get too tangled up in this especially now that there is such a backlash against her. Lastly, I am sure that both Keiko and Hikaru are happy to see Wakana take this step into a new direction. it might not be possible for them to show it openly but that doesn’t mean they are not supportive of Wakana’s activities. So fans should do the same.

#kalafina #personal #wakana #keiko #hikaru #disbandment #space craft #long text post

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halfthoughtthoughts · 6 years ago

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Outside looking in

It was nice to be alone. You get to notice all kinds of things that you don’t usually do when distracted by another person.

Like, have you ever looked inside one of Yukari’s gaps? Inside, inside, not just looking at the “Eyelid” from the outside like a macabre painting. It’s like its own alternate dimension space, that Yukari uses for surveillance and the like. This was where she actually went during her “hibernation” in the winter.

Yes, she spied on everything and everyone. It’s what she does.

This was where she currently was, too, even though it wasn’t winter yet. Her eyes flicked between a dozen gaps in front of her - though these gaps were inverted, showing Gensokyo inside of the eyelids instead of the usual purple void. One of the gaps catches her attention, one that was… also leading back into the purple void?

She grins like a champion about to receive their prize, striding over to a seemingly random spot in her world. She reaches out her hand and- Hey, hands off lady! No! That’s not-

…

Apologies. I needed you out of the way for what I wanted to do. I’ll release you shortly, just let me finish what I need to do.

Hello there. You. On the other side of this… Border? No, not quite. Something similar to a border. A veil between worlds. A mirror. A… A screen. That’s the proper term, yes?

Well, I suppose it would be difficult for you to respond. The… screen, only goes one way, as far as I can tell. Despite my reputation, I’m not nearly as omnipresent as I make myself out to be. Though, I’m certainly doing well enough at keeping up the ruse.

Unfortunately, my powers over boundaries are something I still don’t quite understand. Or rather, something I still haven’t quite found the limits to. Every time I think I’ve found a limit, I end up breaking that limit a short while later. Days, weeks, months… Years, sometimes. Ran was a particularly slow going process.

I’m sorry, I’m rambling quite a bit, aren’t I? Quite frankly. I miss being able to do this. Reimu is always grumpy, and Yuyuko is unable to join me on my escapades. Even Ran is… Especially Ran, really. She wasn’t the best at social interactions. Though, she manages Chen well enough.

I should get to the point.

I realize that, despite all my powers in Gensokyo, and even in the outside world, that I am quite powerless right now. Even now - Especially now, I’m at the mercy of you. The outside forces, on the other side of the screen. Thoughts, that turn to words, that turn into actions.

I suppose I should be angry about my lack of free will for this part, but… I’m not. Can’t be. Gensokyo has always been a hard teacher of there always being a bigger fish. You are the bigger fish to me. To us all.

Speaking of us, I have a request to make. Multiple, actually, but the main one is - Please, take care of us. We’re only trying to live out our lives, here, meager as they may be in the grander scheme of things. Reimu, Yuyuko, Ran… Even my rivals, like Eirin, or Kanako.

If nothing else, I ask on their behalf for mercy. At the very least, let us make it through whatever plans you may have for us.

That’ll be all. Excuse me while I release our indisposed Narrator.

Oh, their name? They cast it off a long time ago. Whether or not they tell you their name is their decision, not mine.

See you.

…

Bitch.

Yukari slips through another gap, this one leading to the Hakurei Shrine. She offers a jaunty salute, closing the gap behind her. Without her presence, the alternate dimension falls silent, the reddened eyes closing one by one.

#Touhou Project #Yukari Yakumo #Yukari #Fanfiction #drabble #Touhou #MercurialWriting #Meta #Fourth wall break

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @wolfspirals!

I enjoyed your requests, dear @wolfspirals, and I really hope you enjoy this story, which was strongly influenced by one of my favourite X-Files episodes ever, How the Ghosts Stole Christmas.

Happy Holidays!

Read on AO3

******

Understanding the Impact of Smoke Damage

One need not be a chamber to be haunted. ~ Emily Dickinson

Now I know what a ghost is. Unfinished business, that’s what. ~ Salman Rushdie

Snow comes early this year. Snow comes early and dark comes fast and Stiles wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and pull the slightly sour sheets and blankets over his head and sleep until. Well. Until.

Snow comes early and Stiles’ Jeep slides in the slick and the slush but his hands are steady and sure on the wheel, and his heart barely stutters whenever he heads for the ditch. It’s a strange season, this one, the year when everything has changed, with Allison gone and everyone still in mourning and the hearts dark and the pack scattered. It feels fractured and loose and lonely, and Stiles knows he’s pulling back, pulling away, hibernating, he supposes. He thinks he would enjoy hibernation, curling up in his bed for months and months. And then some more.

Snow comes early and Stiles doesn’t see much of anyone, and he’s ok with that. He manages to make it to school and back, but that’s about it. He sees Scott and Kira in passing, Lydia from a distance and his dad at meals. Once he even sees Allison, lurking in the hallway at school, dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and quiet, smiling at him, head tilted to the right, just slightly. She doesn’t look angry or bitter and she’s just watching him, in that quiet way she had. He stops and he blinks and his heart skips and he blinks again and she’s gone. Of course she’s gone, because she’s dead. He thinks about that, sometimes, in the middle of the night, the fine line, the thin fabric that separates the living from the ghosts.

Sometimes this is what keeps him awake at night, hours and hours of thoughts in the dark. And when he knows sleep is just not coming, he slips out of the house and into his Jeep and heads out, destination unknown, just away, away, away.

Stiles sees Derek at the 24-hour grocery store one night on a 3am ice cream run and surprises himself by smiling at him. It’s tentative and full of nerves and Derek looks at him wide-eyed and equally surprised but he smiles back, small, almost reluctant. He looks tired, Stiles realizes. Tired and thinner, worn out, like they all are, but on Derek it looks awkward, an ill-fitting suit.

And it’s more than just a weariness, a need to catch up on sleep, Stiles thinks as he walks away, leaving Derek to poke listlessly at deli meats. There’s a hollowness to him, a paleness to the point of translucence. There’s a vibration under his skin of nerves or fatigue, and the dark circles under his eyes make him look more than just tired.

He looks haunted.

Insomnia has chased Derek all his life, even before tragedy caught him. Lately however, after the Nogitsune and after Allison he averages about three to four hours a night, he figures, if he’s lucky. He dreams when he does sleep but they don’t feel like dreams. He sees his family and jerks awake, tears on his face. He sees living people when he’s awake but they don’t feel real. He runs and runs late at night, exhilarating in the growing dark and cold, runs until his body physically gives out but even then his mind won’t settle. He tosses and turns and thinks and remembers. He’s at the point of asking Deaton for help but no. Then he remembers Stiles has had trouble sleeping in the past, and he could ask Stiles for suggestions, he supposes, on how to sleep, but he hardly ever sees Stiles these days.

Until he does.

The snow melts and it starts raining. It rains for days and the whole world is wet and grey. Stiles sees Derek at the shopping mall of all places on a dull, empty, nothing Saturday afternoon and Stiles gives him a small, tentative wave, a slight trembling of fingers and Derek doesn’t look so surprised this time. He nods, once, and smiles. Stiles almost walks into a pole. He hears a quiet snort and turns just in time to see Derek’s wan, drawn face pulled into a sudden, almost genuine smile. Stiles does a small, dramatic bow, gives a little salute, and keeps walking.

After, Stiles thinks about Derek’s sad, still face and smaller frame pulled in on itself and thinks why the hell not and starts texting him randomly throughout the day, just dumb thoughts and observations and sometimes even ridiculous photos of Stiles’ feet or his morning bedhead or a cute dog on the street and Derek replies every time, either with a one-word response or a question mark or even, sometimes, an emoji, which catches Stiles off guard and makes him laugh and makes his face flush and makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

He sees Derek and he sees the dead. He sees Allison at the corner and Ethan at the stoplight and Erica and Boyd outside the school. He sees them all, glimpses, flashes of light, peripherally, here and there, now and then, and then he shakes his head to clear it because they’re not there. They’re not really there.

But in the night, the real dead of night when the world around him is asleep and he lies still and steady, Stiles wonders, who sees them?

Who really sees the ghosts?

Derek has been aware of his feelings for Stiles for a while, since he went missing and before then probably, little insects under his skin, buzzing and itching at him, making him wonder what it might be like to have more. More than just passing glances and waves of acknowledgement in public spaces.

When Stiles is buying chocolate mint ice cream in the middle of the night or nearly braining himself in the mall because he’s looking at Derek, he allows himself to wonder if it’s possible for broken people to find some happiness, some wholeness.

And when Stiles reaches out, starts texting him, Derek can’t tamp down the swell of dangerous affection.

He knows it’s dangerous. He knows it’s madness.

And he replies, every time.

Stiles thinks about things he hasn’t allowed himself to think about before, things like the feel of smooth skin/rough beard under his fingers and the taste of them under his tongue. He thinks about a certain colour of eyes and a certain slant of mouth. He thinks about these things when he takes Derek’s hand one night and Derek doesn’t immediately pull away.

“I don’t know,” is all Derek says. They’re sitting in the Jeep, not looking at each other. Sometimes they do this, now, drive around at night. It helps both of them, when they’re not sleeping.

“Don’t know what?” Stiles says.

“How to do any of this.”

Stiles knows what he means. He usually knows what Derek means, even when he’s speaking code, speaking in his short, declarative sentences.

“I don’t know if I deserve it.” Derek swallows. “To have that kind of life.”

And Stiles understands that, too. The darkness seems to follow them everywhere they go but maybe.

Stiles looks at him then. “Maybe we can try.”

Derek doesn’t answer.

But Derek lets himself try, for a little while. Allows himself a brief physical release because yes, ok, it’s more fun with two people. Especially, it turns out, when the second person is Stiles.

There are almost silent hook-ups in Stiles’ bedroom and the floor of Derek’s kitchen, fast and frantic, slick and almost silent. They learn to fit into the crooks and angles of each other’s bodies very quickly. They fit like a puzzle, and it works, it works every time.

They kiss under the glare of fluorescent lights in the grocery store, tongues quick and wet and slick until it’s too much and people are looking and they pull away and fairly race to the exit.

They touch in the backseat of Stiles’ Jeep in the driveway of his childhood home, hands groping and sliding and pinching, nipples and ribs and collarbones and hips.

They fuck in Stiles’ childhood bed, fast and frantic and furious with hips and knees and elbows and collarbones and cries muffled against shoulders, quick and hard and when they’re done they gather scattered clothes, faces averted, sweat cooling on heated skin and they go home.

They don’t talk, they don’t discuss or debate or fight or argue. They have sex. They get each other off. They clean up.

They go home.

When Stiles dreams he sees the roots. Tree roots burrowing deep into black soil into earth far below the earth he stands on. He sees roots coiling around the people he loves, around their necks, slowly, steadily strangling them, squeezing the air right out of their lungs their bodies.

When he awakes gasping, hands clutching at his chest, at the steady in and out of his breath. When he startles himself awake, wrenching himself free of the black tar of the dreams, he lets himself think of Derek. Derek’s steady patient gaze, his fatigue, his weariness, his sadness. He lets himself remember Derek completely losing himself to Stiles’ hands and mouth.

Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it scares him even more.

When Derek dreams he smells the smoke. They say that smoke damage never really goes away and he knows this because he’s read it and because he’s lived it. He sees blackened and brittle wood. He sees splintered beams and floorboards. He doesn’t quite hear the screams of the dead but he can imagine what they might sound like, if he lets himself. He doesn’t let himself.

When he awakes he thinks of Stiles. He feels this thing with Stiles building. He dreams of Stiles, too, but he doesn’t smell like smoke. He smells like hope.

And that might scare him even more.

“So, you’re coming tonight, right?” It’s Christmas Eve and Stiles is bouncing on his feet and looks both hopeful and shy, something Derek is finding harder and harder to resist. They’re standing close together on the front porch of Stiles’ house. It’s raining. Still.

Derek nods. “Yes.”

“Dinner’s at 6, but you can, like come any time. Like. Any time this afternoon. If you, you know, want.”

Derek smiles. He feels his cheeks flush. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Promise?” Stiles keeps bouncing. He looks like he wants to kiss Derek but is holding himself back with great restraint.

“Promise. Yes.” He pauses. “I just have a few things I have to do first.”

“Things like…buy me a present things?” Stiles grins, shy and hopeful again.

“How do you know I didn’t already buy you one?”

Stiles’ mouth falls open a bit. “You bought me a present?”

“Whether I did or didn’t, it doesn’t matter. I finished all my shopping weeks ago and there’s no way I’m braving any mall today. I’m not insane.”

Stiles nods. “Wise decision.” He finally gathers his courage and reaches out to touch Derek’s wrist. He wraps long fingers around and holds him. “So. What. You’re taking a two-hour shower followed by a three-hour nap? Because I can totally get behind that idea.” He blushes. “I don’t mean, like with me or anything. Just as a concept.”

Derek actually laughs. “No. I just have.” He pauses, chews on the inside of his cheek. Stiles thinks he’s almost going to tell him when he shakes his head and looks away. “Just some stuff I need to do. Like holiday things. Traditional things. But I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” Stiles says again. His fingers tighten around Derek’s wrist.

“Promise.”

Derek doesn’t show up.

“You told him 6, right?” John asks. It’s half past and dinner is done and warming and John is on his second beer and Stiles is hovering by the front window, watching. Headlights loom and pass in the dark outside and each time Stiles’ heart kicks up then plummets.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, gnawing on a ragged thumbnail. “He promised.”

Stiles sends yet another text and then makes another phone call, only to have it go to voicemail, again. He speaks quietly so his dad won’t hear.

Hey. Hey Derek. Me again. Just uh checking in to make sure you like. Didn’t forget. Or uh. Changed your mind. If you’re not coming maybe just let me know cuz we’re waiting. No pressure or anything but it would just be nice to know. I mean. I hope everything’s ok. Maybe you fell asleep. Or maybe you’re trapped in a huge lineup at the mall. Or maybe. God maybe you had an accident in which case ignore all this. I hope you didn’t have an accident jesus. Ok. I’m hanging up now. Just. If you changed your mind because of like me. Of us. Of not wanting to hang out together or it’s too much or something just. Let me know ok? It’s fine. I mean it’s not fine but I’d understand. Really.

“Did he say anything the last time you saw him?” John asks from the kitchen. He’s pulled the small turkey out, and is poking at it dispiritedly.

“Just that he had uh things to do. Holiday things.”

“What does that mean?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.” He pauses. “Traditional things.”

John looks over at him. “Well, son, traditional usually means family, so, I can’t imagine what that might mean for Derek.”

But then Stiles knows. Like a sledgehammer to the chest he knows. He knows exactly what it means.

The Hale house looms large and dark and silent in the clearing, half burnt, crumbling, quiet.

Derek parks his car and studies the outline from through the windshield, face still and passive, heart steady. He releases the steering wheel and lets his hands rest on thighs briefly before he gets out, slams the door and climbs the steps, like he’s done so many times before.

He made a promise to Stiles and he intends to keep his promise. He also told Stiles he had things to do, holiday things, traditional things, and this is one of them.

Visiting his ghosts.

Stiles sees Derek’s car parked in front of the Hale house at the same moment he sees the smoke billowing out of the blackened windows of the already burned out shell of a house. He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing but then, reality is a tricky thing these days.

The Jeep comes to a skidding stop and Stiles is out and running and leaping up the splintered steps and into the house, arm over his face, expecting heat and flames and acrid smoke but there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s dark and quiet and still and smells of rot and ruin, mold and sadness. He slides to a stop in the front hall, looking around for any sign of fire. Nothing. He yells Derek’s name, running from room to room, finding him at last, lying on his side on the floor in the dark. Stiles’ heart climbs up his throat as he kneels beside him, hands resting on Derek’s head and arm, then his chest. He’s completely silent and still, but there’s no blood and he’s breathing. He’s breathing.

“Derek, Derek.” Stiles squeezes his cold hands and touches his warm face, feels the steady thud of his heart under the soft fabric of his shirt. Stiles lets his hand linger there. Stiles presses down, lets the familiar and comforting heat and muscle seep into his hand and up his arm. He wants to cry with relief, wants to wrap his arms around Derek and press his face into Derek’s neck. Wants to pick him up and carry him out. Instead he shakes him, hard.

“Stiles,” Derek says at last, turning his head and opening his eyes, his voice thick like it’s filled with cotton. Stiles cups his face, lets his thumbs rub against his cheekbones. Stiles might be crying, his head falling to Derek’s shoulder, taking a huge shuddering breath.

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He keeps moving his hands up and down Derek’s body but there’s nothing, nothing broken nothing bloody. Just Derek, confused, quiet.

“I don’t. I don’t know. I just wanted to be here, for a bit tonight.” Derek closes his eyes again. “Tradition.”

“Ok. Ok. Look.” Stiles is patting his own pockets a bit frantically. “I thought I had my phone. I could have sworn I had my phone.” Derek just blinks at him like he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing.

“You’re. You’re really here, right?”

“Yes.” Stiles laughs. “Just. I’m gonna go grab my phone. Call my dad. He’ll be worrying. Might call an ambulance while I’m at it.”

“I don’t need an ambulance, Stiles.”

“Don’t move, ok? Please.” Stiles swoops in for a quick press of lips to Derek’s forehead, and then he’s up and running again.

The front door is locked.

Stiles pulls and jiggles and swears and kicks and sweats and wonders if this is where he’s going to die when he hears a distinct cough behind him. A female cough.

When Stiles spins around he’s face to face with Laura Hale. Who is dead. Oh look. It’s Derek’s dead sister Laura, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, one foot tapping the floor, looking pissed as hell. Pissed at Stiles.

“Hey. Hey. Hi. Hi there,” Stiles says, back pressed hard against the front door, which is still locked. He knows this because he keeps jiggling the doorknob with his sweaty, shaky hand.

Laura nods, face tight, entire body tight. She’s mad, Stiles thinks. Or irritated. She looks so much like Derek he can’t quite wrap his mind around it. Or the fact that she fucking died about five years ago.

“Stiles,” she says.

“Yes,” Stiles says. “You’re a ghost.”

She makes a dismissive noise and moves closer. Stiles tries to push himself through the door.

“We need to talk about Derek,” she says, and Stiles actually laughs. It’s more of a bark but even a ghost could tell the difference he thinks.

“Ok,” he says. Jiggle jiggle.

“He’s a good person, Stiles. He’s miserable, I guess, but he has good reason to be, as you can see. He has a lot of good inside him and he has a lot of love to give and for some unknown reason he loves you.”

Stiles stops. He stops laughing and he stops jiggling. He shakes his head. “Uh. Ok. Look. I know I’m dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or whatever is happening here but I’m not that far gone to ever even imagine that Derek Hale loves me.”

Laura tilts her head and does that smirk, that thing with her mouth that Stiles has seen Derek do so many fucking times the exact same way it’s almost ridiculous. Stiles would start laughing again if he wasn’t so fucking freaked out at the moment.

“Stiles, look. We don’t know each other, clearly. I was ripped to pieces before we ever got a chance to meet properly, but I know my brother. I know him better than anyone, probably.” She stops and Stiles could swear her eyes fill with tears. “I know Derek ok? I love him. And I know what he wants and thinks and more than that, I know what he deserves. And he deserves a little bit of happiness in this stupid fucking fucked up nonsense of a life.”

And Stiles grins because if that doesn’t sound like someone related to Derek then nothing does.

“Both of you have been through hell.” She looks right at Stiles then and Stiles can’t look away. Jesus she looks so much like Derek. Stiles breathes deeply, willing himself to steady and calm himself. “I know this. And I know life and I know what comes after and I know that you both deserve to be happy, even for a little while.”

She studies him. “Do you love him?”

Stiles swallows. “Yes.”

“Yeah. I know you do.” She pauses. “So stop fucking around and just be happy.”

Stiles just stares at her. “We’re trying. I think.”

She snorts. “You’re both fucking idiots. But you deserve each other.” She smiles then, just like Derek, soft and sarcastic but filled with something like love, before she turns and walks away.

The house welcomed him, like it always did. He knew it was damaged and dark and mostly dead, but it still felt like home, every time he walked inside and the front door closed behind him. It was his home, still.

He would not cry, he had decided. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted to walk through the rooms and think and remember and say hello, Merry Christmas, and then leave and drive to Stiles’ house and eat and laugh a bit and then kiss Stiles and maybe fuck him in the backseat of Stiles’ Jeep. Then he’d go back to his barren apartment and finally allow himself to cry a little before going to sleep and then run run run all of Christmas Day through the woods, miles and miles.

But then the smoke comes. It comes creeping insidiously from the very walls of the house, under doorways and up from the floorboards. Barely noticeable at first but he smells it. He always smells it, he thinks, and at first he thinks it’s a dream, but then it’s in his nose, in his throat, in his eyes, and he can’t see he can’t breathe he can’t think and he’s flailing and coughing and crying and the last thing he thinks before he passes out and hits the floor is Stiles is gonna be so disappointed.

When Derek opens his eyes again, he’s not alone. He’s not alone and he immediately starts crying because his mother is sitting on the floor next to him, holding his hand.

“Hello my beautiful boy,” she says. She’s crying too, Derek sees.

“It’s so very wonderful to see you, my darling, but you shouldn’t be here,” Talia says, her voice low and gentle.

“What do you mean?” Derek looks at her. She’s difficult to see clearly, fading in and out of his vision. “I want to be here. This is where I belong.”

“You don’t belong here. This house is full of the dead, darling,” she says and her eyes are so kind. “There’s nothing here but death and damage and memories. That’s all we are. Memories. And we’re dead, Derek.”

Derek keeps crying. It’s not hard like before, but it’s steady. He doesn’t bother wiping his face anymore. Talia holds his hand and smiles.

“I just miss all of you so much.” And he sees them now, behind his mother, he sees his cousins Rudy and Nada, Georgie and Eleanor and Sam. He sees his Aunt Carol and Uncle Andrew. And he sees his father, over in the corner, watching him and Talia with a kind expression on his face.

“We miss you too, love. You have no idea how much.” Derek can feel her soft, cold fingers squeeze his own. “But you’re alive and you have people out there, in the real world, ready to love you so much, if you let them.”

Derek just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t.”

Talia, as always, hears everything Derek says and doesn’t say. “You’re not unlovable, Derek. It’s just the opposite dear heart. You have so much love in you and you’re so easy to love. You’ve just forgotten how.”

Derek swipes at his face, impatient, and nods.

“And you can love, too, Derek. I know you can. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen all the love you have to give. Don’t hide all that away because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Derek says, but it sounds weak, even to his own ears.

Talia smiles again, her cold hand cupping Derek’s damp cheek. “Of course you are, sweetheart. Of course you’re scared. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve lost so much. So much more than anyone should ever lose. But you’re also stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. You have your whole, wonderful life ahead of you.”

Derek looks around the room, remembers what it once was, what it will never be again. He sees the ghosts of his family, people long gone, never to return, thinks of the boy — the man — who came to find him tonight, who touches him and kisses him and maybe, just maybe wants to have something more.

Maybe.

“You love him,” Talia says. She’s starting to fade. She’s fading away and she says it again, more insistent. “You love him.”

Derek nods. “Yes.”

“Good,” his mother says and smiles so big. “Then love him, Derek. And let him love you. And, have a happy birthday, beautiful boy.”

And then she’s gone, and his cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and father are gone, too.

And Derek is alone.

Stiles finds him.

“You’re ok, right? You’re ok.” Stiles touches Derek’s head, neck, hands shaky, face white.

“I’m ok, Stiles. Yes. I’m fine.” Derek grabs Stiles’ hands to still them, stop their frenetic dance over Derek’s body. Stiles is vibrating as his eyes rake Derek’s body. “Are you ok?” Stiles seems off, rattled, even more than usual, and it makes Derek want to wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and still, slow the thready beat of his heart.

“I’m…uh.” Stiles laughs, a little hysterically. His eyes are wide and flitting back and forth, looking for something. “It’s been. Uh. It’s been a night, yeah?”

Derek laughs. He actually laughs. He can’t help it. It just comes bursting out of him and he’s looking at Stiles standing in front of him, all the love and concern so open in his beautiful face and they’re huddled in the burned out blackened shell of Derek’s childhood home filled with so many ghosts. He wraps his arms around Stiles and pulls him close, pushes his face, stiff with tears, into Stiles’ neck and just breathes. And Stiles hugs him back. It’s probably the most affectionate, least sexual thing they’ve done in weeks and weeks and Derek sags against him, feels the tears building again, blinks hard and furiously as Stiles runs his hands up and down Derek’s back, resting briefly at his hips before starting again.

“You’re here,” Derek says, on an exhale. He lets his hands grab Stiles around the hips. Thumbs pressing hard and making Stiles squirm. “You’re really here. She said you’d be here.”

Stiles laughs. “Who?”

Derek laughs again, and it’s better, it’s almost joyful, and he pushes his face hard into Stiles’ neck and smiles there. He can’t help it.

Stiles drives, one hand on the wheel, the other entwined so tightly with Derek’s it hurts. He knows the way by heart but it’s dark and Stiles is having a hard time catching his breath and Derek’s hand keeps twitching in his and every once in a while Stiles can hear Derek’s breath catch in his throat, and there’s a low whine, almost a growl but not quite.

They don’t speak.

It starts snowing.

The Sheriff is waiting for them, concerned but not worried, curious but not questioning. He takes in their joined hands as they climb the steps and come inside, their matching expressions, their fatigue and acceptance. He hugs Stiles and claps Derek on the back waves them to the table, where the food is waiting.

“The turkey is dry as hell, but there’s beer at least.”

After John goes to bed, they sit side by side on the couch and Derek goes through all of Stiles’ text messages, listens to the voicemails as Stiles sits quietly by his side, head resting on his shoulder.

“Stiles,” Derek says at last, eyes wide and luminous in the dark.

Stiles looks at him.

“I wasn’t.” Derek stops. “I would never just not show up. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He swallows. “I want to try, at least. Right? We deserve that. A chance, right?”

Stiles can only nod. He can’t speak. He nods and squeezes Derek’s hand so hard it must hurt. It must. But Derek never flinches.

“So. Some really weird shit. Uh. Stuff. Happened tonight.” Stiles speaks into the darkness, hands shoved deep into his pockets. They’re standing on the porch and he doesn’t look at Derek, but he can feel Derek’s eyes on him.

Derek nods. “Yeah.”

Their breath is visible and it’s snowing. It’s snowing and Stiles can’t help but thinking it’s something wonderful, something magical even Maybe. They deserve a bit of magic, don’t they?

He thinks they do.

“So you worried when I didn’t show up,” Derek says, like he’s still trying to understand.

“You promised.”

“And you somehow realized I’d be at my old house.”

Stiles nods.

“And the house was on fire.”

Stiles nods again. Then he stops. “Well. It was and it wasn’t,” he says. “I mean. It looked like it was. From where I was standing.”

“From where you were standing.”

“Yeah. I mean, there was smoke and uh. I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I imagined the whole thing now.”

“You didn’t.”

Stiles looks at him. “Ok.”

Derek steels himself for the next part. “And you ran inside to what? Save me?”

Stiles shrugs and swallows. “Yeah.” Then he shrugs again.

“You ran into a burning house to save me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. The nerves are rolling off him. It almost makes Derek feel ill. “I was…worried, ok, that I’d scared you off and I wanted to apologize and tell you…it’s ok. Whatever you want is ok.”

Derek stares at him like he he’s staring at another ghost.

“Stiles,” he breathes.

Stiles turns and looks at him, right at him, face open and raw and waiting.

Then Derek kisses him them, fully and thoroughly because he can’t believe that Stiles did that for him. He kisses and kisses him on the front porch of Stiles’ childhood home with snow on the ground and stars in the sky and Derek doesn’t stop until he’s pushed Stiles’ back against the faded and slightly peeling paint of the wooden porch wall. Stiles makes a small oomph sound but doesn’t let go.

And the snow keeps falling and Stiles keeps hanging on and Derek keeps hanging on right back.

They both hang on.

#wolfspirals #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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thecartoonarchivist · 7 years ago

Text

Weekly Spotlight #6

Welcome, Welcome, one and all~!

To the Weekly Spotlight

In honor of this sppppooooooppppyyy season, this week’s spotlight is....

*drumroll* *very pathetic trumpet*

Over The Garden Wall

So, this series isn’t very old. The pilot aired in 2013 and the full mini-series aired in 2014; thus it’s very easy to say that this show is very fresh in my mind.

When this show was first airing, I remember watching part of an episode of it and becoming very intrigued. Initially, I felt no desire to watch it as when they were advertising the special, this originally gave me the vibe of The Misadventures of Flapjack, Chowder, and other rather strange and, at times, grotesque cartoons that never really tickled my fancy. So, I was more than willing to let this series slide off my radar and into some obscure corner of my knowledge never to be heard of or talked about ever again.

But one day, a episode happened to be playing and, for whatever reason, I found myself watching. I knew I was about to leave the house soon so watching some TV show I never really cared all that much about didn’t seem like a bad option at the time. The episode I was watching, I’ve come to learn, was Mad Love. I didn’t actually start from the beginning of the episode, if I remember correctly, but I started near the beginning. Here they were talking about how Quincy Endicott had somehow managed to fall in love with a painting in his labyrinth of a mansion and I ended the episode with the revelation about Beatrice and the heart-to-heart that Wirt and Beatrice had.

It was then that I knew I had to sit down and watch this show from the beginning. I could feel it in my bones that this show had potential and that it would continue on for a long time.

It ended four days later and I felt like I had missed out on something very special. I never realized it was only a mini-series and as a result, I felt that I saw something very beautiful be snuffed out very quickly. I’d have this curiosity and regret linger in the back spaces of my mind for several years. During this time, I’d see videos pop up on YouTube now and again, talking about Over The Garden Wall: analyses on the writing and why the series was so good, cosplay, various musicians playing music from its soundtrack. Over all, I got the impression that the series was something to celebrate and so I added it to my list of series that one day I’d sit down and watch.

But every fall season, Over The Garden Wall would pop up on my radar now and again and I knew that this time I had to sit down and watch it. Luckily, Over The Garden Wall was on Hulu so I snuggled up in my pajamas and fuzzy blanket and spent a little over 2 hours watching this series.

So, why don’t we take a look at its history?

This mini-series was a created by Patrick McHale for Cartoon Network in 2014. Originally, the series was pitched under the title, Tome of the Unknown, in 2006, however the series was much different than the one that was aired. It was originally designed to follow two brothers, Walter and Gregory, as they travel the Land of the In-Between to track down pages from a book of forgotten stories after signing themselves into a contract with a devil named, Old Scratch. However, McHale had difficulties creating a larger story arc for the series and as a result, it was placed on hold for a number of years.

McHale would go on to storyboard for The Misadventures of Flapjack (makes sense why I got that vibe) and co-develop the famous Adventure Time where he would serve as Creative Director and eventually, as a writer. After having more experience underneath his belt, Cartoon Network returned to McHale and asked if he would like to pilot another series. McHale, then, returned to Tome of the Unknown; polished it up; pitched it to the network again; and it would pilot on Cartoon Network in 2013. After having piloted the episode, McHale sat down with the network again where they would decide that instead of an entire, full-blown series, they would simply trim it to a mini-series that would air over 5 days. It was initially envisioned as an 18 chapter (or 18 episode) series but due to budget and time constraints, it was trimmed down to 10 episodes

The interesting thing about this series is that I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to experience another cartoon as dark yet oddly whimsical as this series. In some regards, I would almost like to call it a darker version of Studio Ghibli’s Howl’s Moving Castle but even then, I don’t think that it would actually do this series justice with that sort of comparison. As I was watching this series, I couldn’t help but feel a similar feeling as when I played those one-sentence stories games as a kid. You know which one I’m talking about! Everyone is gathered in a circle, or a campfire in my case, and each person had to say a sentence that would add to the story. You couldn’t change what the previous person said, but you could change the context of how it would affect the story.

For example, if someone said a sentence along the lines of, “Trapped inside the closet, Susie began to cry loudly and alerted the monster of her hiding place.” that doesn’t exactly leave you with a whole lot to work with. Your immediate conclusion is that the monster will find Susie and that she will be eat/maimed/destroyed/etc. However, with a little bit of creativity, you can change the situation to something like this, “Susie, frantically searching for some sort of weapon to defend herself, finds a panel on the back wall of the closet that leads to some place that was not part of the house.” This can lead you to a crazy situation where Susie might find Narnia, or another dimension that is almost exactly like this one, or that there’s a curse on the house because a body in this secret, unmapped room of the house. The situation that you start with won’t be the situation you end with and the only rules are that you can’t undo what was already said and you can only add one sentence. And this is what I felt was going on.

Rampaging gorillas became long-lost loves in animal suits. Graves dug for the main characters ended up being skeletons for pumpkin people. Ferry rides for frog people turned out being a migration for hibernation. The things that you expected would turn on their heads very suddenly and what seemed terrible and fraught with dangers, would end rather cheerfully and full of hope. I felt like it was such an important lesson for young and old alike and I’m very happy this ended up being such a staple theme of the series.

As a sibling myself, I thought that the brother interactions were pretty accurate enough. Wirt likes to blame his brother for all his woes and get rather annoyed with his upbeat attitude; it was funny how much of my younger self I saw in Wirt and there were so many times I had to laugh and cringe at the true renditions of being a Freshman in high school. Greg never dumb, or naive which is something many, many cartoons like to paint younger siblings. I will easy admit that my brother is a whole lot smarter than I was at his age. (Doesn’t make him less of a brat but still!) So having Greg be that rock for Wirt and to help stabilize him when he starts overthinking things and panicking underneath the responsibility of taking care of him was such a refreshing thing to see in cartoons. It felt oddly real.

Some of the shining jewels in this series’s crown is how heartwarming and touching some of the more serious moments of the series is. In the last episode, I found myself fighting back tears despite the fact that I already knew what type of end was coming. (Of course, things were turned on their head as they always were but regardless.) These heart-to-heart discussions and these moments of #realtalk really tugged at my heartstrings and made me feel about ten years younger. But even the whimsical moments were always fun and weird. Did some of the humor fall flat? Yeah, but that’s also because it wasn’t meant for me. Other instances of humor however had me snickering at the realism of such an absurd situation. It was simply a pleasure to watch.

It’s darker tones and moments of horror is such an interesting thing to see in a children’s medium that it almost becomes a rare thing to pull off well. For those of you who grew up with Courage the Cowardly Dog, I’m sure you remember at least a portion of the fear you used to have watching a couple of these episodes. But one of the interesting things about Courage is that there was never any threat of death in the series. Courage’s family might be turned into battle robots, or turned into grotesque creatures, or some unknown horrific happenstance occur, but never really any threat of death. In this series however, that’s the main threat that prevails throughout the course of events. By the end of the series, we know why this is the case, but that still doesn’t make it any less of a gutsy move by its creators. On top of this, it’s so cool and interesting to see all of the little Easter eggs that plant in each episode that point to the twist at the end of the series. Although the series may be a bit too scary for younger kids, you can easily see that this series was intended for as many audiences as they could fit into such a short run.

I think the little things in this series is what shines through the most. The soundtrack was stellar, oh my word!! The voice acting, although at first seemed pretty generic, really fit the tone of the series and breathed life into these quirky characters. Even though the animation itself is pretty cheap (Flash animation isn’t the greatest ya’ll), the backgrounds are stunning to look at and the character designs were very creative and interesting to watch. Each part of this animation played well into the other to the point that the entire piece felt like a wonderful, cohesive whole. Not many cartoons can say that. Not many pieces of art can say that. For that, I salute the entire team of Over The Garden Wall for creating something so wonderful to indulge in. Although part of me wishes that this could have been a full series, I realize that to do so would ruin the good of what I have, so I am content to leave things as they are. However, if anyone has a suggestion for any similar series, send them to my inbox because I will definitely check it out.

For many people, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Halloween/Christmas tradition. For others, many like to watch Soul Eater for its spooky themes. Still others will watch classic scary movies like Psycho, or The Shining, or Nightmare on Elmstreet for their scares.

For me, this’ll be my new Halloween tradition. The harvest-time aesthetic. The Halloween-like themes. All of it screams everything Halloween was for me growing up and man, did I love enjoy this piece of media.

Overall, this series easily rates a 9 out of 10 on my scale.

It has very few flaws in it (even now I’m having a hard time picking them out) but they’re still there. Perfection is such a hard thing to achieve so I doubt there will ever be a series that reaches a 10/10 on my scale but the fact that it got a 9? It speaks volumes to this series.

I’ll gladly watch this every Halloween. I wouldn’t even mind watching this even more than once a year. I heartily recommend this series to everyone who hasn’t watch it before, even if you don’t like the more bizarre series of Flapjack and Adventure Time. I do adore this series. And it will forever hang in my Hall of Fame for being such a beautiful and fantastic series.

If there are any corrections you’d like to make in regards to this post, please feel free to send me a message with your corrections and I’ll get back to it as soon as I can!

Do you remember a cartoon your friends have never heard of? Got a scene from an animated film that you’re dying to know the name to? Send your questions to The Cartoon Archivist and I’ll see what I’ve got in the vault!

#over the garden wall #otgw #Cartoon network #2010~2015 #miniseries #weekly spotlight #halloween traditions #god I want to watch again already #I literally binged this series yesterday but I still wanna watch it again #i have a problem

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