#I think if I could reverse hibernate I would

[talesofwhimsy]

Last gasp of winter :(

[tobyisave]

Reason #48234872 Kiibo should've lived: so Maki can have someone to recreate a normal human adolescence with while Himiko and Shuichi go into a state of depressed hibernation for the next half decade...

Honestly I never even thought of this pairing until I started drawing this months ago, but I think they would have an interesting dynamic postcanon. It's hard for them to relate to each other at first — Maki has seen way too much and Kiibo has seen like 0 things in his life ever — but they've both been dehumanized, made to believe they're dangerous,* and barred from participating in "the real world" for most of their lives. And because of that they just want something that is, to use Maki's words, "as vanilla as possible."

Also, they're both autistic straight men and I want to see the hijinks that ensue when you put two of those in the same room.

*Obviously we see Maki being viewed as dangerous by herself and others; I can't even tell anymore if it's obvious that Kiibo shares that experience to some degree or if I'm just too deep in my own Kiibo lore... But here's 2 thoughts on why I think that's something they canonically share:

They both hurt someone close to them in their backstories, and that weighs on them enough that both of their Harmonious Heart events are about wondering if that person would hold it against them. Also for reasons I won't elaborate on here, I'm pretty sure Kiibo at least subconsciously views himself as a danger to others due to the environment he grew up in after Iidabashi was injured. I mean imagine having an emergency stop button permanently installed on your body "just in case."

Despite everyone's backstories being fictional, Kiibo and Maki have still killed one real person each --- Kiibo killed Tsumugi (and endangered everyone else), and Maki effectively killed Kokichi/Kaito ('effectively' just as in it could create the kind of "I killed a guy" guilt that is relevant to this discussion. I'm not going to even comment on the actual causality of that entire situation). Even if you don't count that, Kiibo being the only person with a body count is an interesting reversal given he's a pacifist and seems to have the most rigid moral code of the cast (something I also think was a precaution of sorts).

(+ Credit: Background of page 6 is traced from this random photo of an ice rink lobby. I made up the background of page 7 and that's why you can't tell what the hell anything actually is.)

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Death and the Fool

Chapter 1: The Tower--Reversed

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first

content: childbirth, takes place at the beginning of episode 9

A/N: Hi! I received a request for a oneshot by @hannah-0730 and decided to turn it into a whole fanfic so lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Spotify playlist for this book can be found here Ao3 link here

“The Tower–Reversed: Internal chaos, avoidance of change, delaying disaster.”

April, 1750

April has always been your favorite month–even when it wasn’t called ‘April’. Hibernations are ending and new life is being born. Bulbs of daffodils are breaking through the warmed soil. New souls are being introduced after remaining at your fingertips. 

This day was no different. The first birth of the day was a baby girl in the New Hampshire colony. Born at twelve–ten in the morning, she had a full head of dark hair and when she opened her eyes they were the darkest shade of blue. 

“Welcome to the world,” you’d whispered, wishing her luck on her journey with a kiss on her head before moving on to the next soul.

You have a special place for every soul. Each one is unique in their own way: each one has their own path, their own personality as they age, but your favorite type of soul will always be the new souls. 

With so much potential, there’s an endless amount of possibilities. You’re able to help guide them to their first life, able to see how they flourish and succeed. And then, you welcome them back to the Soul Plane with open arms.

Each soul is molded by the other souls around it. Every one of them is connected by a string, and you find it extraordinary and utterly beautiful. You have watched every single soul grow. You’ve watched them from the birth of their light, expertly crafted by your skilled hands, all the way to their final life centuries later. 

You’ve never played favorites, but these two were an exception.

You panted heavily as you ran beside her, cloak flowing behind you and your hood falling away from your head. “Agatha, we need to stop!”

As if on cue, she gripped your arm and doubled over in pain. You held her up, wrapping your arm around her back and guiding her off the path. “Come down here, to the river.”

Her breaths were heavy and labored as you removed your blue cloak and laid it out on the pine needle strewn forest floor. Agatha removed her own quickly and tossed it aside, leaning against the tree.

You knelt on the grown, taking the knife strapped to you from its harness and cut off a decent sized piece of your cloak. You quickly moved down to the riverbed and soaked it in the cool spring water before making your way back to Agatha.

She was drenched in sweat when you pressed the cloth to her forehead and neck. You let her grip your hand as you continued dabbing the sweat off her, “It’s okay…It’ll be okay…”

But, in truth, you didn’t know if it would be. Death–Rio–she had never been interested in the making of souls. In her words, it was too complicated and she’d rather stick to her “job description”. 

When it came to this soul however, she was insistent on helping.

“It’s my child,” she tried to reason. “I think I have the right to at least help with the creation of their soul!”

You weren’t stupid. You knew how it would end, whether or not she helped make the new soul.

The grip Agatha had on your hand tightened even more as she cried out in pain. “Something isn’t right,” she managed to get out. “Something–Oh, God!”

You looked up from her and ten yards away was a figure. She stood there, quietly observing you both in her green cloak.

“Rio,” you mutter.

Agatha turned her head toward Rio as she cried out again. “No! No! I told you not to come!”

Rio began walking towards you. Mud stained her cloak as it trailed behind her, and though her presence felt threatening, you could see it in her face that this was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Rio stopped a good distance away, “I had to…”

Agatha’s nostrils flared in frustration and her jaw tensed, “If you do this, I will hate you forever!”

But that didn’t seem to shake Rio outwardly. Instead, she offered a subtle nod, almost saying, ‘I can live with that’.

“Please let him live!” Agatha sobbed. “Please, my love!”

Rio looked at you with regret in her eyes and you sighed, “Rio, just this once, please! At least offer time.” 

Rio closed her eyes as Agatha once again groaned in pain. She had a decision to make and it needed to be made quickly. She let out a sigh and opened her eyes. “Okay,” she said softly, “but it is inevitable.”

When Agatha’s eyes opened again Rio was gone and she sighed, her thoughts muddled as she tried to speak, “She…what…”

“She’s given you time, Aggie,” you whispered. “Your son will live.”

A relieved sigh was let out and it turned into a broken moan as another contraction washed over her. You quickly pulled the hem of her chemise up and over her thighs, reaching to the side to grab her own cloak and place it in front of you. 

“Okay, Agatha,” you huffed. “I need you to give one big push.” You reached your hand up and she took it, squeezing it hard as she screamed. “Good,” you said. “Just one more to get the shoulders out. Squeeze my hand.”

The shrill sound of a baby’s cry echoed through the woods as you grasped the child with the cloak in front of you. 

“Welcome to the world,” you smiled.

You had never seen Agatha cry, but the moment her son was placed on her chest her walls broke. As she held him close, you picked up the wet rag again and brought it to his skin. You cleaned off what you could before cutting off more squares of your cloak. 

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, standing up and making your way back down to the river. 

You went back with cloths dripping water and sat down in front of Agatha, beginning to clean her son off.

“I think,” she sighed, “I think I’ll call him Nicholas.”

You smiled softly and continued washing him off, “Maybe you could call him Nicky for short.”

“I like that,” she mumbled, smiling down at him. “Nicky.”

When Nicky was finally clean, you managed to swaddle him loosely in Agatha’s cloak. You settled beside them closely and since meeting her, you had never seen her so happy.

“How much time did she give him?” Agatha’s voice was meek and her smile had dropped when she turned her head to look at you. 

You took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, but I won’t know until it happens.”

Her voice was strained, “Okay.”

After a trip to the river to help Agatha clean up, the two of you sat peacefully against the tree for at least an hour. It was quiet, the sound of birds and the rustle of leaves lulling both Agatha and Nicky into a light doze. You didn’t want to wake them, and you certainly didn’t want to leave them, but you knew you had to.

You placed your hand on Agatha’s shoulder. “Aggie,” you whispered, pulling back when she startled awake. “Come on, we have to go.”

You managed to create a sling out of your cloak, allowing Agatha to hold Nicky close to her while holding onto you for support. 

The sun was setting as you walked a path through the woods. With the direction you were walking, it was directly to Agatha’s left and the sight nearly made you weak. Her silhouette was illuminated in golden light as she walked and it made her look as if she were glowing–she was completely and unequivocally beautiful.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

You grinned, “Well, sometimes, the Soul Plane gets a bit boring, so Rio and I made ourselves a little cottage. There’s a garden there so I’ll grow you some fruits and vegetables, and a stream runs right by it so you’ll have water.” 

“Sounds like paradise,” Agatha chuckled.

The sun was almost entirely set and the air had grown chilly by the time you reached the cottage. When you entered, you immediately lit a fire in the hearth, smiling to yourself as you heard Agatha groan while sitting down.

“There are two rooms,” you said, “Mine is on the left, so you’re free to take clean clothing if you’d like.”

After gathering fruits and vegetables from the garden and replenishing it afterwards, you made your way back to the warmth of the cottage. In front of the fire, Agatha sat in a chair, holding Nicky close to her chest as she fed him. Her dirty chemise from earlier was replaced by a shawl and one of your own chemises, pristine and white as if it had never been worn before.

“I picked some apples from the tree,” you said, setting a basket down on a wooden table. “And some potatoes, carrots, peaches, strawberries, and peas. I grew some more of everything, so you should have a few months worth of food.”

Agatha smiled softly, her eyes giving way to her exhaustion. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome…” There was a beat of silence before you continued speaking. “If you’d like me to, I can stay the night, but–”

“Will you?” Agatha asked. 

You tensed up, not actually expecting her to ask. She was always alone, liking to be by herself–a covenless witch, she called herself. “Oh…yes. Of course.” At the sight of her smile, you relaxed. “Well, I hate these dresses, so I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

With your own underclothes on a shawl to add an extra layer, you fixed a fire in both of the bedrooms  and rejoined Agatha with a book in your hand. “The bedrooms are ready and…I think Rio suspected we’d come here because there’s a cradle in her room…”

Agatha looked at you with a mix of emotions in her eyes, “There is?”

You nodded. “You and Nicky are more than welcome to sleep in there, Aggie.”

The night was quiet after Agatha went to bed early, politely declining your offer of dinner. You stayed in front of the hearth reading until the clock showed it was half past ten and you put the embers of the fire out. 

Before you could make it to your own room, lit candle in hand, crying pierces the air. You walked across the room to Rio’s room and just before you’re able to knock, Nicky’s shrieks stopped. The door is cracked and through the cool air and the crackling of the fire in her room, you can make out the sound of humming. And then, the sound of singing.

You felt warm, to see this side of her that no one else has seen–not even Rio since she had left earlier in the day. This was a woman whose tongue could cut sharper than a knife, whose wit was beyond measure, and who had never dropped her stone-cold mask for anyone.

And she was singing.

Agatha Harkness was singing a lullaby.

You leave her be and walk back to your room, unable to shake the picture of Agatha. Once settled into bed, you find that sleep doesn’t come easily. Your mind lingers on Agatha and no matter what you do, nothing helps. You toss and turn, but still, you think about Agatha and her perfect lips and her perfect eyes and her dark hair and the lullaby and how maybe, just maybe, one day she’d feel the same way about you. 

Perhaps you would no longer be the Fool in the deck. Perhaps you would be the Ten of Cups. But for now, you would remain the Fool, naive and hopeful, chasing after your Sun and preparing for the grief that would inevitably turn her into the Three of Swords.

[whereisyourstar]

Be Well

Part 6 of the Stand By, Hold Back, Be Patient series

Part 5, Part 7

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: Mild angst, minor descriptions of death and blood, description of a really bad date, extensive lore dump

(AN: This marks the beginning of where I went off the rails and created my own lore, so we're in mild AU territory that follows the movies up until most of part 3. Just go with me on this one.)

Seems fitting that this conversation is happening in an idyll like this one. If every difficult conversation could be had in a clearing overflowing with wildflowers and butterflies, the death of spring imminent and grandiose in its final gasps, then maybe you wouldn't dread them so much. You're glad for the distraction of the butterflies, and the two blindingly happy dogs that chase them, if only because it gives you an excuse not to look off to the side. Jason sits there on your right, back against the trunk of a tree much older than the one you've claimed, dark and imposing as ever in the shade. Only the curve of his spine, hunched in on himself even more than normal, like he needs to make himself smaller, gives away the tumult happening in the brain behind his mask. Tumult is a great word for it—your own mind is like a feedback loop on itself, repeating Jason's explanation over and over.

The land keeps him alive. He doesn't know why or how any more than you do, but it reversed death under the very lake he drowned in, and it kept him there, half-alive, half-conscious of the years passing him by, until his mother's blood was spilled and he could rise. It wanted Pamela, he thinks, to be its protector. He was just the beating heart of her vengeance, the locus of her grief and anger and despair, that the land might have rewarded her with when she was spent. A living son, returned to life just before the time of her death, to thank her for her service. But then the girl, then the decapitation, then the blood, and the blood, and the blood, and suddenly Jason was alive. Alive and utterly alone in the world, his mother's final gift to him a white hot, concentrated anger that burned him from the inside out. He held her head in his hands and swore then, with the land listening attentively, to continue her work. This camp, this lake, the land that surrounds it—no one else would live here. Let the span of the forest be a grave for his mother, who loved him so much, and a killing field for all others who would attempt to infiltrate it.

A protector is what the land needs. Jason isn't the first, and when his time comes, he will not be the last. This, he tells you, he knows intrinsically. Most of what he knows about this arrangement is based around feeling, which stresses you and your appreciation of quantifiable facts out to no end. There's no guarantee it's even the land that's bound him—and you already find the idea of a somewhat sapient stretch of land disquieting—because it could just as easily be a demon, or ghoul, or whatever. Anything's on the table now. It was all well and good to acknowledge Jason's supernatural existence in a passive way, never looking too hard at it, but after he sliced deeply into his palm and made you watch while the skin pulled itself back together and healed…you are, unfortunately, forced to admit that this is real. He's exactly who he claims to be—Jason Voorhees, who died in 1957, and then didn't.

Therein is the problem that he's worked his way up to telling you. In order to live as long as he has, the land puts him in what sounds like a kind of hibernation. When there are no intruders, no one threatening the land, he sleeps. His body just…stills, from the sound of it. The food and water he needs when awake no longer present a problem, a kind of stasis slowing down the natural functions of his partially living body, for however long is needed until the next round of invaders show up. Once they arrive, he senses them somehow—and he neatly dodged the question when you asked how it feels, and is he sensing you right now—and he wakes, eradicates the problem, then survives and patrols on his own until the land inevitably calls him back. Only this time, the land isn't calling him back, and the implication is clear: you're the reason why.

It's already been too long. These past few weeks of the two of you getting closer, actually becoming something very close to friends while Abby recovers, have been a fluke. While you thought you were just getting to know the most enigmatic person on the face of the planet (and actually learning ASL so the two of you could talk), effortlessly slotting near-daily hikes without the dogs into your routine, he has been waiting for the inevitable push to return back to sleep. You're not vermin to be exterminated anymore, at least for him, but the land doesn't see it that way. If the land sees anything at all, if it's even aware of itself to that extent. Exceptions made by its protector are, apparently, not supernaturally binding.

You've already run yourself ragged in the attempt to clarify any of this, ("Can't you tell the land that I'm allowed to be here?" "What happens if you can't get back to sleep?" "Do I have to bind myself to the land too? Would it even want me?"), all of which has resulted in increasingly frustrated, I don't knows.

And you have obviously been silent too long, because Jason lifts his hands and signs, I will try to sleep.

It's the only solution either of you have come up with that won't uproot your entire life. Again. Which isn't an option. "I hope it works," you tell him honestly. You hug your knees to your chest and lay your cheek on one, looking at him from the side. His body language is subtle at the best of the times, but you're not getting anything off of him right now. Your brain is just too overcome, you think. "I don't…fully understand most of this, but I know I'm making things more difficult for you. That's never actually the goal, you know." He's not the sort to placate you, but he does hunch his shoulders further in, and your heart hunches right with him. "But I really do hope it works, for your sake."

You're both more somber than this beautiful place should allow, but the thing you're both leaving unspoken is that everything is going to change. If the land eventually accepts you, or he's able to force the hibernation somehow, then that spells the end of consistently seeing each other. Just two weeks without him imposing on your life had you feeling somewhat abandoned, and you hadn't even known him that well yet. After the month the two of you have spent together, fully living up to the simple, honest desire to see each other more, it's going to be even harder. Because you've come to expect the local murderer to call on you almost every day now, to spend time with the dogs, and to learn whatever new signs you crammed into your brain the previous night, and to show you all the best parts of the forest, and just to talk—

He makes you happy. This time spent getting to know each other, not as predator and prey, but as people, has been so much fun. You weren't lying when you said you aren't good with people anymore, but he's worse than you are, so it just works. But now that's over. You understand why, but you don't have to like it. Neither of you do.

There's nothing else to say, really. Despite Jason's improved vocabulary—and to say it's improved is almost an insult because he's taken to the language with a hunger that surprised you, never having considered how much he wanted to express himself without you as a buffer—he's still not the talkative type. The silence is nice, usually, and you've come to really appreciate knowing someone who doesn't feel the need to fill every single moment with chatter, but you do wish he'd say something. Is he going to miss spending time with you? With the dogs? Do you make him as happy as he makes you? Sometimes you think you must, because why else would he bother with you—and the way he stares sometimes, head tilted to the side…it feels fond. Will he come visit the next time he wakes? Will he want to? Will you want him to?

You realize on the way back, still mulling this over while the now-exhausted dogs trot at yours and Jason's sides, that you're thinking of this as a kind of break up. Maybe that line of thought was inevitable, because it feels like a break up. If this works, if things go back to the way they should for him, then you're about to lose someone who has become important to you. Not forever, maybe, but the relationship's dynamics will change, and you are…not the best with that. There's a reason you didn't manage to hold onto any friendships after college. And this, whatever this is, that you have with Jason is going to go exactly the same way. You, the one left behind while everyone else moves on.

Jason walks you back to the cabin, as has become habit. It doesn't help with the break up analogy snaking its way through your head, because he walks you straight to the door. He actually drops to a knee and wraps his arms around Abby, mindful of her mostly-healed torso, his massive head kind of tucked into her neck. Abby wriggles further into the hug—she's the type of dog that would climb inside Jason's skin if she could, having clearly chosen her person—and sniffs curiously at his ear, none the wiser that this is a goodbye. It'll be at least a week or two before tourists start coming through Crystal Lake, and Jason won't wake again until those tourists start to camp, so it's anyone's guess when he will next see his dog. The whole thing makes your throat tight, and you have to look away, busying yourself with the door and shooing a tired Heracles inside.

When he's had his moment with Abby, he untangles himself and smooths down the fur that he disrupted, then sends her inside as well. You watch as she heads straight for the bowl of water that Heracles has blocked with his entire body sprawled on the floor and gracefully steps over him to drink. Then you shut the door and, with a steadying breath, face Jason.

"She'll be okay, I promise," you assure him, tucking your arms around your middle for the comfort of it. In the late afternoon sun, orange rays catch in the eyeholes of the mask and turn that brown eye a vivid molten honey. It makes his skin look almost lifelike, and you wonder, in the part of your mind that doesn't know how to not wonder these things about platonic friends, if his skin is warm. He's alive in other ways, eating and drinking and resting are all still necessities, if on a lesser scale than a typical person—does his body still know to warm itself? You'll likely never find out. "I won't skimp on walks, and I'll try to brush her every day. And I know it'll be like no time has passed for you the next time you come around, but it will for her, so I'll…try to keep you fresh in her mind? Maybe I'll draw a picture of your mask for her to look at, or…I don't know. The important thing is I'll try."

Jason's more or less immune to your rambling, thankfully, and he picks the important parts to acknowledge. Abby is in good hands. Thank you.

You drum your fingers against your sides and nod, realizing too late that you haven't been signing like you normally would. Just this once, you think he'll forgive you. "Not a problem." And you open your mouth to say a couple things, any and all the questions you have bumping around in your head, but what comes out is: "Then…I guess I shouldn't keep you any longer. Go get some rest, Jason. We'll be here when you come back." Which isn't what you want to say at all, really, but you also don't want to prolong this. So you manage a brief smile and take hold of the doorknob, twisting down, and—

Wait, Jason signs, taking a half-step closer. He signs stop, but your brain translates it to wait of its own volition, likely for the novelty of this role reversal. Not that you're really thinking about any of that when he continues with the gentle way he signs your name. I will miss you.

It takes you off guard, the way he signs it and the way he finishes the next half-step, coming close with the sun still in his eyes. It's impossible to forget his height, but when he's this near you have to stretch your neck so far back to meet his eyes—god, but you should tell him how pretty they both are in the sunlight. The faded, sightless one is a shade of blue like a winter sky, gorgeous in its own right. "I'll miss you, too," you tell him, someplace hidden in your heart aching a little. He always makes you too honest when he does it first. "But at least you'll hardly notice, right? You'll wake up, do…what you need to do, then come visit? It'll be like hours."

Jason's next breath comes out harsh and shakes on the end. His hands fidget in the space between the two of you for a moment while he works out what he wants to say. Yes. But you will be alone.

He's just as reluctant to stop seeing you as you are to stop seeing him. You knew that, somewhat, but it really hits you now. A part of you wants to point out that you know you'll be alone, you still have to live every moment he gets to sleep through, but that kind of venom just isn't in you right now. "Mm, well, that was why I came out here in the first place. Don't get me wrong—" this is rushed, because you can just feel him getting ready to take it the wrong way, and you step fully into his personal space to more directly get your point across, "—if I had it my way, nothing would be changing. I'm good at being alone, and I like it most of the time, but I want to make it abundantly clear that if I had the choice between seeing you and being alone, I would choose you." Which does embarrass you, now that you've said it out loud, but at this point…fuck it! If he doesn't know you care about him, then the least you can do is say it now. Nonchalance is a loser's game and you are tired of playing. "But you have oaths to keep, and I'm already getting in the way, so don't…don't waste time worrying about me, okay? I'm upset right now because I don't do change well, but I'll get over it. Just promise me that you will actually come visit, because I'll need to talk your ear off for at least an hour the next time I see you. And every time after."

I promise, Jason signs, so immediately that you haven't actually finished talking before he does it. I will look forward to it.

And that's all you need from him, really. This situation sucks, losing daily walks-and-talks sucks, but if he says he's looking forward to it…then you can, too, and it'll eventually be okay. Although, if the two of you keep this up for a decade or so, you're gradually going to be physically older than a man born in the forties, and that threatens to send you spiraling. Definitely one to tuck away in the later folder of your brain.

You're about to say something—good night, probably, because it's not fair to draw this out any more—but Jason stalls you. You're already standing closer than normal, breathing in that unpleasant-but-familiar scent of his, yet the way he lifts his hand to the side of your face still catches you by surprise. The palm of his glove hovers over your cheek for a second, age-yellowed wherever dirt and old blood haven't discolored it further, and you know you're not breathing. The last time he touched you was when he pinned you to the ground, and this is the wrong time entirely to remember the strength in his hands where they grasped your arms, the way he shifted his weight to press your leg down under his knee. Are you really about to let him touch your bare skin with that completely disgusting glove? The answer is yes, and you're already leaning into it, when Jason abruptly rips the the glove off—so fast—and skims cool, bare fingers over your temple. He pushes them, featherlight, through your hair and follows a lock down behind your ear, then rolls the end of it between his fingers. All the while his brown eye tracks his own progress, the pupil wider than should be possible with so much light, until he lands on your face. He holds your eyes at first, and you notice for the first time that he has no lashes on either eye when he glances down to your mouth.

Then you think, literally breathlessly: He's going to kiss me. Never mind the mask, never mind that he reeks of blood and sweat, never mind that he's a murderer. You think he's going to kiss you and you don't tell him to stop. Your lips part of their own accord, your lungs finally unlocking enough to exhale a shaky breath into the space between the two of you, and your chin lifts.

Jason releases his gentle hold on you and has his ungloved hand back in its usual garb before you have a chance to be curious about it. His eye never leaves yours when he signs your name, drawing out each letter. Be well, he tells you.

And you laugh, just a short puff of air. Incredulous and amused. "You first."

His shoulders lift, and his eyes crinkle—it means he's smiling under that mask, you're certain of it now. Then he turns and walks away, always purposeful, always onto the next task. Never a glance backward, not in the entire time you've known him.

You watch his back until he steps into the treeline and becomes lost amid the forest. It will be cooler tomorrow, you can already tell—you're shivering.

Four days of self-pity is about all you can stand. It's an active kind of self-pity, the kind that sees you doubling your usual output at work, and cleaning the cabin until it's spotless, but you know your own patterns by now. Any time your productivity slips, and you're alone with your own thoughts, you can actually feel a shroud of melancholy settle itself over you. A sighing, moping thing that threatens to lay you up on the couch and keep you there for the next week.

So you got attached to the local murderer. So you made a connection with another person that felt genuine. So he made you happy. So what. Things change. And it's not like you'll never see him again, it'll just be different, and different is fine.

On the fifth day, you snap yourself out of it. You've maxed out your possible earnings for the week, and without the distraction of work, there's not much else in the cabin to do that will hold your attention. After you've gotten the dogs out for their walk—and you pretend not to be looking for him every single time you're out here—you find yourself standing in the kitchen, elbows on the breakfast bar while you idly scroll through the apps on your phone. You're pretty sure you've got a game on here that might keep you occupied for a while, or you could clear out your pictures, and there's always answering the texts that just keep piling up from your mother. None of it sounds particularly appealing, but you're about to launch the game when you see, tucked away in a folder you never open, the dating app.

You remember the last time you opened the app and exactly why you shoved it in a forgotten folder afterward. It was back in the city, when you'd just returned from a genuinely awful first date. The guy had been forty five minutes late to the movie the two of you were going to see, and after fifteen you'd just gone inside to watch it on your own. Disappointing, especially after how great he'd been over text, but no harm done. At least until he started blowing up your phone with messages, demanding to know where you were, had you stood him up, what kind of person blows their date off like this, etc. You rushed from the theater, met him in the lobby, and the two of you had it out right there in front of the poor teenaged ticket taker. Despite being late, he actually expected you to wait around for him—he said a high value woman would prioritize meeting with him over entertaining herself. You were annoyed, and more than a little affronted by the domineering Alpha bro vernacular out of nowhere, but you could see it from his point of view if you squinted. So you offered an olive branch—"Look, there's another showing in two hours, so let's get dinner, then we can watch the movie together, okay?"—which he eventually accepted with some deeply unattractive pouting. Then you paid for dinner, which, okay, fair, you were the one that suggested it. He dropped the pissy attitude after he had some pad thai in his stomach, and the two of you actually started to connect the same way you had over messages. He was funny, and you were charmed by the way he sometimes couldn't finish his own jokes because he was laughing too hard, tears crowding his eyes. And you'd never been a stunning conversationalist, so you were happy to just sit back and listen while he talked. But the straw that broke the camel's back came at the theater—or rather, on the walk back to it. He complained about the walk itself despite it only being a block away, then he complained about the place you had chosen to eat, then your outfit, then the movie, and after all that had the gall to suggest skipping the rest of the date. In his infinite benevolence, he had decided you were worth inviting back to his apartment on the other side of the city, just as long as you didn't mind getting the Uber.

You'd gone back to your own apartment, the one you had before you resorted to subletting a much cheaper bedroom, completely alone. You gave up on dating for a while after that, declaring the entirety of New York's dating pool useless, and should have just deleted the app altogether. But some part of you, small and romantic, couldn't quite bear the idea of entirely giving up, so into the forgotten folder it went.

Looking at the app now, your interest is piqued. It's been a while since you even thought about getting back to dating—certainly not since the incident—but maybe it's time. You could open the app and look around a bit, just to see what's out there. No pressure to actually message anyone, or go on a date, assuming it could even get that far. As a recluse from society that has spent the last two months evading, then making agreements with, then enjoying the company of the resident slasher, you don't exactly have a lot going for you. But even still, that small and romantic part of you, smaller and more romantic than ever, thinks it would be nice to build a connection with someone who stays.

You drop your phone on the counter and grind the heels of your palms into your eyes, groaning. You are emphatically not going down that line of thinking.

That's what slaps you out of it. Self-pity can't hold a candle to your sudden, overwhelming need to get outside and to do it quickly. You get dressed in something light enough to handle the warming days, a pair of shorts and a cropped hoodie, and lace up your shoes. Abby and Heracles nose around at your ankles, both of them still brimming with energy after the admittedly pathetic walk you took them on earlier, and you harness them up with only one incident of Heracles knocking you flat to the ground in his excitement. Part of it has to be because he expects Jason to be out there—both the dogs have been lapsing into inconsolable fits of whining these past few days, and you really can't blame them—so you give your blockhead some grace. The dogs understand this even less than you do, after all.

When you get outside, Abby immediately starts tugging for the usual direction. Heracles is the pathfinder of their little duo, but she's a stickler for sniffing all the usual spots, so they've compromised in their own doggy way to start out in the same place every single day. They are both confused when you take two steps toward that section of the woods, just past the truck, then abruptly stop.

You've spent too much time in the forest recently. Whenever you and Jason were able to properly exhaust the dogs, after dropping them off back at the cabin, he would take you to the deeper, older parts of the woods. The dangerous things that lived there didn't concern him, so you didn't let them concern you, though you told him in no uncertain terms you would just lay down and die if a bear took its chances with you. (And he signed, looking at you from the corner of his eye, You would not run? To which you replied, "I can't outrun a bear." You ran from me. "Well, yeah, but you're not a bear. Two legs, you know? It's different.") He showed you things you never would have found on your own, some of the secrets of the forest that he'd had nothing but time to discover. A span of blueberry bushes that you gratefully plucked a handful from, a green pond stocked with frogs and turtles and curious little dragonflies, a tree split perfectly in half by a bolt of lightning, and the wildflower clearing. Once, on one of the hikes he took you on—it stops being a walk to you when the majority of it is spent going uphill—the two of you quite literally stumbled upon a porcupine, fast asleep and tucked up in a hollow log in your path. You couldn't stop staring at the way it rested its head on its paws, nose twitching in sleep, completely unaware of being observed. You signed, grinning and completely silent: Look at him! A baby! To which Jason tried to explain that it was full grown and could still be dangerous if it was startled, so it was better to be away from it. Because my track record of staying away from danger is so good? you signed, crushing your lip under your teeth to keep from laughing before stepping away from the porcupine. The mass murderer had no ground to stand on and you both knew it, but you definitely pushed your luck with a whispered, "Oh no, don't quill me!" joke when he glared at you.

The point being, the forest is too full of memories right now. You'll make new ones there, on your own, with the dogs, and with Jason, maybe, but for the moment it's just too much.

So you drop to a knee and scrunch your fingers over both Heracles' and Abby's backs, getting their attention back on you. "Come on, let's go find out if you're water dogs."

You're the pathfinder for once, both dogs trotting at your side while you follow the vague layout of the area you have in your head. It's mostly downhill to the water, which is nice, and a two mile trek is nothing after all the time you've spent walking recently. You keep a hand on your phone though, just in case two miles turns into five, and you become lost enough to have to call for help. It is, much to your consternation, probably time to learn how to properly read a map for this area.

The forest abruptly opens up to an expanse of shoreline, grass gives over to gritty sand, and there it is. The eponymous Crystal Lake, its smooth, blueish waters sparkling in the early noon sun. It's a mammoth of a lake, too wide across in any direction to properly see the shore opposite yours, and it fully lives up to its name. You've seen the lake in person only once, when the real estate agent you closed with walked you past it on the way to the cabin—the lake had actually been the focus of her selling point, and you couldn't have cared less—but this is the first time you've properly appreciated it. Waters don't get anywhere near this clear where you grew up, there's no place for oversized fish or sneaky alligators to hide here. It really is a crystal lake, multifaceted and clear and beautiful—you wonder, absently, if it freezes in the winter.

Heracles loves it the moment that first breath of lake water scent hits his nose, and he starts yipping with excitement, his tail repeatedly whacking poor Abby. His exuberance rubs off on you, and you start toward the water with a faint smile playing across your lips. The day is perfect for this—summer is on its way, and the days are getting truly warm. You crouch at the waterline and put a hand in to find that the water is several degrees cooler than the air, deliciously refreshing after the walk. At your insistence that it's okay, Heracles flies off of the shore and jumps into the water with a mighty splash, his tail helicoptering with abandon.

Abby takes more convincing. She hated the one bath you've given her so far, crying the entire time you washed soap out of her fur, then sulking for hours afterward, brown eyes accusing you of the greatest cruelty possible. The lake water lapping at the shore is interesting enough to sniff at when the gentle waves retreat, but as soon as they roll back up, she skitters backward in the sand, clearly nervous. But she keeps staring off to where Heracles paddles around in the water at the end of his leash, her tail distractedly waving. You pet between her ears, finding the spot Jason discovered that makes her relax when her anxiety makes her shiver—you wish your anxiety had an off switch like that—and smile down at her. "I don't like water either, sweet girl, but are we really going to let Heracles have all that fun by himself? Come with me, it'll be all right."

You toe off your shoes and socks and place them away from the reach of the waves, hoping against hope that no sand bugs decide to make their home in there. The sand is gritty and sun-warmed, ultimately kind of pleasant, though you much prefer the feeling of grass under your feet. That first step into the water is pure relief and a sigh of genuine pleasure filters out of your lungs—it's exactly as cool and refreshing as you hoped, and being able to see right through it gives you some peace of mind. You neatly avoid a cluster of slimy-looking grass clinging to the submerged shore, and when you're three steps in, turn around and beckon Abby forward. You must look ridiculous, one arm stretched as far back as it'll go to keep a hold on Heracles, and the other making gentle come here motions.

Abby looks at you, then the water, and pants a little. Then she puts one dainty white paw in the water and you cheer. "Yes! That's it, good girl!" At your encouragement, her tail gives a hearty wag, and she steps fully off the shore. She sniffs at the water again, then looks past you to where Heracles yips and splashes, then surprises you by bounding right in after him. The combined force of their tugging nearly knocks you off your feet and you yelp, already laughing. Water is tolerable to an extent, but fully submerging yourself in it? No thanks.

The three of you pass upwards of an hour like that, playing in the water and along the lakeshore. There's plenty to explore, the natural beauty of the area giving even the most mundane tree the benefit of a long glance. Long, swaying grasses hide little crabs that you have to wrestle the dogs away from, and you pick up a few shells that catch your eye. But the best is sitting on the sandy shore, a dozing, damp dog on either side, and watching the lake surface glitter. Teams of fish flit around under the waves, pestered by long-winged swooping birds, all while lazy puffs of clouds float along the horizon. It seems so innocent like this, so peaceful—and you know better, but that doesn't stop you from sitting there and feeling completely, perfectly calm.

It's time to go back, and you know it. The dogs will both need baths to get the lake water out of their fur, and Abby requires so much brushing, and you're already wanting a nice afternoon nap. Two miles back to the cabin, then the baths, then the brushing, then maybe an early dinner…you're all going to sleep great after this.

But as you stand, brushing yourself off, the dogs apparently sense your thoughts and gain a second wind. Abby dances in the sand, looking up at you with happy eyes, and you break instantly. "Okay, okay," you tell them both, a smile tugging at your lips. "Just a bit longer."

The dogs found a piece of driftwood earlier that they have taken turns running around with—after you thoroughly inspected it for splinters—and you pick up that driftwood now. Then, as a show of trust, you unclip their leashes and throw the driftwood into the lake with all your might.

They go crazy for it. They race each other into the water over and over, competing with each other to be the one to get the stick. Abby has the advantage on land, she's fast and focused when she runs from your spot on the shore into the water, her head lowered like a racing dog. Heracles' goofy run doesn't help him over sand, but in the water he's a powerhouse all his own, shoving through the water like it's nothing. They're pretty evenly matched, but before long, it becomes clear that Abby just wants it more. The way she prances up to you with the driftwood in her mouth, ignoring Heracles attempts to snatch it away, makes you think of proud hunting hounds.

You're breathless with laughter over their antics, especially when Heracles gets the stick and launches himself the final foot back to you to avoid Abby's snapping jaws. He takes you to the ground hard, both of you kicking up a shower of sand, and you're already scrubbing your hands over his sides while he covers your face in gross, lakey kisses. It isn't helped when Abby joins in, shoving her snout into the fray so she can sniff at the happy, laughing tears streaming down your face. God, but you love them. Why was anyone worried about you being alone? You have everything you need right here, just you and these goofy, personal-space-invading dogs.

Movement to the right has you, Heracles, and Abby all snapping your attention to it. There, twenty feet away in the treeline before it becomes shore, is a familiar shape. He really must be summoned whenever you finally stop thinking about him. That's the only explanation, and damn, considering all you know now, you might actually believe it. Because here, watching you be lovingly attacked by the dogs, is Jason Voorhees.

Abby reacts faster than either you or Heracles can, a high-pitched whine cracking through the air as she leaps off of you and sprints to Jason. He drops to a knee and spreads his arms wide, taking the full brunt of her impact to his chest without so much as a sound. He wraps securely around her despite her wriggling and he buries his mask into the side of her neck, tender and gentle. Then he stands in a smooth motion and, still holding his dog, makes his way to you.

You almost don't want to believe your eyes. Oh, you're delighted to see him again, just the shape of him in the distance is enough to soothe something unsettled within you—what a difference a month makes—but you know what this means. It didn't work. He couldn't force the hibernation.

Heracles howls when you hold him back, his entire body quivering while he sings for the approaching Jason. Still on the ground, though now in a somewhat respectable sitting position, you call, "You'd better hurry up and say hi, he's in a knocking-people-down mood today! Ask me how I know." If you had a free hand, you would use it to brush sand off your back, but it does make your point for you.

Once Jason is close enough for his shadow to cover you completely, he drops to both his knees in the sand and, with a bit of readjustment, reaches a hand out to scratch at Heracles' chin. That's the final straw for your sweet, excitable dog, because he wrenches out of your hold and throws his entire weight against Jason, crying pathetically. And, already down an arm from holding Abby—who licks at his ear, making you grimace in sympathy—Jason has no option but to follow Heracles' momentum and be knocked soundly onto his back. He grunts when oversized paws find purchase on his stomach and stay there, and the combination of hearing Jason's voice for the first time, in a way, and the effective transfer of your dog's sloppy kiss attack onto the mask makes you break out into honest to god giggles. You cover your mouth with your hand and make no move to save Jason, content to watch. "I could be wrong," you say between laughter, "but I think they're happy to see you."

He grunts again, this time because Heracles jumps off his stomach to fetch the stick you've abandoned, and uses the opportunity to sit up. He's as sandy as you are, and it has to feel awful on the back of his head with no hair to protect it, but you can't stop smiling. Especially when he finally releases Abby, who plops wetly into his lap with total satisfaction, and signs, Are you next?

A fascinating idea, and if he were anyone else, you might have launched yourself at him just to prove him right. But, seeing as you're being violently reminded of the last time you saw him, the way he touched your hair with his bare fingers, and how you had been so sure he was about to kiss you, you pluck up some reserve. "Yeah, no, I know when I'm beaten. Heracles—oh, he wants you to throw it." Heracles shoves his entire head under Jason's arm and proudly presents the water-and-slobber soaked stick, which is taken and launched hard into the water, the stick cutting through the air like a missile. Show off, you think, not unkindly. You watch Heracles as he scampers off after the driftwood, keeping an eye on him for any distress as he eagerly paddles out into the water—he's going further out to get it and you just want to be sure he's not too tired to come back. That's where your attention is when you continue, "Like I was saying, Heracles and Abby are going to have to drag me back at this rate, I am thoroughly laked out. But," and here you glance his way, finding him still staring at you, and you smile, "I'm happy to see you, too."

He waits to sign until Heracles is safely back on shore, which you appreciate. You reach out and snatch up the stick from Heracles, keeping him distracted with some tug of war so Jason can use both hands to sign. They are clearly enjoying the lake. Not you? He indicates your mostly dry clothes, minus the huge wet spot where Heracles slammed into you.

You're suddenly very aware of how much midriff you're showing, but you stubbornly fight down any embarrassment. If anyone sticks out here, it's Jason. How and when he decides to deploy that jacket is a mystery to you—this is only the second time you've seen it and it's the furthest thing from raining now—but it's the least concerning thing at the moment. You're both equally covered in sand, anyway.

"Not really a water person," you explain, abandoning the stick to just lavish Heracles with pets. "I just wanted to come see it at least once before summer brings the hordes of drunk people and screaming toddlers. But since these two apparently like it…" You sigh and finally meet Jason's eyes, obscured once again by the angle of the sun. "No, I'm sorry, I am really happy to see you, Jason, but this means that sleeping didn't work? It hasn't even been a week yet."

Something peculiar happens: Jason looks away first. He drops his chin and opts for watching Abby, no longer dripping but almost certainly sleeping, in his lap. His next breath is so large that is disrupts some of the sand on his shoulders, and his shoulders hunch inward. There was a camper. He stayed too long. And here you notice that one of the stains on his ever-bloody shirt is newer than the rest, the thin, skipping trail of it not fully oxidized yet. It's partially obscured by his jacket, but there's no mistaking the look of fresh blood, even to an untrained eye. But it worked.

Oh. So he hadn't wanted to tell you that. He's making himself smaller, like he did when he told you about the hibernation in the first place. The body language is much easier to focus on than the fact that the man across from you just admitted to killing someone, and did it so recently that the victim's blood is still somewhat fresh.

And it probably makes you a worse person than you thought, because the first words out of your mouth are, "Good! That's great!" You are glad it worked, and you can now feel a little less complicated about seeing Jason right here, right now, when he's meant to be sleeping, but you do force yourself to sober. It already doesn't reflect well on your moral code that you've found such a good companion in someone whose only motivation in life is to kill, you don't need to add to that by celebrating when someone's dead. "I just—I mean it's good that it worked. That has to be a weight off your mind."

If Jason's surprised by your reaction, he doesn't mention it. Rather, he just nods once, slowly, and turns his attention out toward the lake. He's like that, you've noticed. He's not one for fanfare, or what-ifs, like you are. This latest experiment worked, his covenant with the land once again secure, and that's all there is to say about it.

You take the opportunity to study his profile. With the sun making its descent toward the horizon, the lake has started catching its colors and playing with them, rippling out with every breath of wind. Many-hued oranges and blues spread across the expansive water and bounce off the white of Jason's mask. It doesn't cover the entirety of his jaw, there's just gap enough to show where the body of it meets the ramus. No hint of stubble on the tanned skin, and you've never seen any on his neck either. It doesn't feel off base to assume he's not shaving regularly, not with the state of his clothes, so he likely just can't grow facial hair. Probably a boon, considering how much time he spends in that mask. You think of his eyes, the lack of lashes, and his more obvious baldness, and your brain lingers on whether or not he has brows under there. His jaw is softer, more rounded than fully defined—does the rest of his face match? Low cheekbones, recessed eyes, and maybe brows that pull down when he focuses, or lift when his eyes crinkle like they do when Abby howls, or you say something that amuses him. He could be very handsome under there and you would have no idea. Does he wear that mask all summer? Does he not sweat?

It would be unbelievably rude to ask him to take the mask off. Your curiosity, a low, simmering thing before, is fully piqued now, but you're not entirely tactless. That mask is the one consistent part of every story and half-baked legend about him—he has to wear it for a reason. And you are not going to be the one to get it off of him, you're sure.

"I never saw water like this before I moved here." You turn your attention back to the lake, gathering up Heracles' damp head in your arms to keep your hands busy. "I haven't been able to get over it. So much of it, and it's so clear. We never had this back home—everyone has a story about a gator in the pool, or in the pond where the kids swim. I tended to avoid all of it, since I'm genetically predisposed to not liking sharp gator teeth in me."

You catch Jason's shoulders hitching up again, and you have to look closer to see the impression of his eye scrunching. He's laughing at you, in his way. It is not only bears, then. You have always been like this.

You gasp with faux affront. "What, sensible?" His shoulders actually shake this time and you have to defend yourself, though you're fighting a losing battle against your grin. "I live alone! In the woods! Someone has to be worried about predators!" Disturbed by the jostling, Abby pokes her head up and you pounce on the opportunity. "Abby, are you seeing this? Your dad's mocking me because I'm not a fifty foot tall walking wall of bear deterrent. Can you believe him—" and here you're cut off because you're laughing too hard to continue, just covering your face with your hands.

God, but it's just that easy, isn't it? Jason slots right back into your life like he never left, making you laugh and laughing at you, and granted it's only been five days, but you missed him. Missed this. This easiness, so eagerly sought but rarely found from others in your life. What makes it extra satisfying is that, once the laughter dies down, Jason signs, I missed you.

Heracles has shifted off of you to expose his belly to the sun, warming and drying, and you take the opportunity to sit a little closer. Jason, maybe just to take the pressure off his knees, readjusts until he's cross-legged with Abby sprawled in his lap. The two of you face the water now, comfortable in the gritty sand. In a fit of madness and pure contentment, you lean into the space between his arm and yours and rest your cheek against his bicep. "I missed you, too." Then, quieter, but no less earnest: "I'm really glad you're here, Jason."

You can't see him as clearly, can't gauge his reactions with your eyes on the faceted water, but his breathing quickens enough to notice. It occurs to you that you can't hear his heart, only your own steadily thumping in your ear from being pressed to him like this. Does his heart still beat at all?

I almost did not come. There is nothing in this place for me. His signs are harder to read like this, but you see the hesitation before he continues. Except for you.

That makes your throat constrict in a way you weren't expecting. Of course. Of course he wouldn't want to be here. Nothing good has come from the lake for him. But he still came, despite the history, because it's where you are.

You make yourself comfortable against his arm and discover that under the normal Jason scent, the jacket has a nice, smoky scent that brings gatherings around a fire pit to mind. Or sitting near a fire, warm and safe. You breathe it in unashamedly, feeling a heaviness around your eyes that you can't give in to. "I love it here. I thought I loved it before, but then I wake up and realize where I am, and I see something new, or the sun hits something from a different angle, and I love it even more. Every single day, I get to wake up and know that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." A lapse where you just listen to the sound of Jason's breathing, and the lap of waves onto the shore, and you feel completely at peace. "There's this sense that I was meant to be right here, right at this moment, sitting with you and watching the sun over the lake. You know?"

Abby snores in her sleep and you grin against Jason's sleeve. He runs his gloved fingers through her fur a few times before signing, I know. I feel the same.

That is exactly where the two of you stay. The sun continues its journey ever downward, filtering the world through an orange lens. Half-dozing on Jason's arm, you know you should go. You should have left an hour ago, two hours ago, and yet here you remain. There is nowhere else in the world you would rather be.

Turbulent water. Its waves beat against the shore with angry, white-hot hands, scalding the sand beneath them. The sky is a dark grey, cloud cover thick with the promise of storms. And all around is the howling of wind, a wounded animal screaming its pain from every direction.

There, in the middle of those water, sits a boat. How can anything rest so calmly in here? Yet it's untouched by the riot that surrounds it. The little boat is simple, hewn of unfinished wood that has been sanded until smooth, and it repels the tempest completely. All about its keel is a glass-like surface, a perfect circle of peace.

Someone is in the boat and, unknowing or uncaring of the storm just outside, lets their arm spill over the side to drift fingers through the still water. Their perfect reflection copies them, reaching up from under the water to touch their fingers. First contact, then second, then third, the two meet again and again. Then the hand under the surface shoots out from its airless prison and grabs at the arm, no longer gentle, no longer hesitant. Droplets create ripples for the first time in that mirror water and the person in the boat tilts their vessel violently, distressed. But the other arm, wet and trembling, no longer content to copy, does not let go.

The boat is going to capsize like this. The person inside will be dragged down, down, deep under the surface of this water that beats and chokes and boils all that ventures inside it. Who would not cling to them? Who would not want to be in that circle of calm, if only for a moment?

The person in the boat is stronger than they look. The water stills again, only ripples where the mirror image protrudes outward, and suddenly the arm is being held just as tightly. There is room enough for both here. With a shout, the person in the boat reaches down and grasps that small arm in both hands and pulls. Something breaches, and the first gasp of air is so loud—

You wake with a jolt.

A quick reality check of everything you can hear, smell, and feel. Hear: Heracles' snoring, the cabin's foundation settling, and ice being made in the refrigerator in the kitchen, just down the hall from your bedroom. Smell: clean sheets, the artificial pomegranate of the candle you blew out earlier, oat and vanilla dog shampoo. Feel: firm bed under your back, Abby's curled-up spine pressed to your side, sweat on your neck. You are exactly where you were when you fell asleep—at home, in bed.

But that dream. It had felt real. The water—the lake, you would recognize Crystal Lake anywhere now—and the wind, the way it had whipped around hard enough to hurt, hurling boiling hot waves around like nothing. You have to check your legs for burns, because you had been there, in the lake, standing in that scalding water and watching the person in the boat. Nothing. No redness, not even a hint of lake water. But even that isn't enough to totally convince you that you hadn't just somehow visited hell.

You have to get up. No amount of rationalizing can calm the racing of your heart, adrenaline remnants rushing through your veins until it pulses in your head. Heracles and Abby both stay where they are, so you spare an affectionate rub to both their ears. God, your hands are shaking.

It's only 2 in the morning, according to your phone's clock. It won't be dawn for hours yet, but you're too wired to get back in bed, even after pacing the length of your living room a few times. You force down a glass of water, though water is the last thing you want to be dealing with right now, and take out last night's dinner from the fridge. It's a bastardized carbonara you'd thrown together with whatever was left in the fridge, but it's fatty and full of carbs, and you need something in your stomach that isn't the sickly, sour feeling that's taken up residence there.

With both water and bowl of pasta in hand, you settle down in front of your computer and switch it on. If you can't sleep, you might as well research for future articles. A good distraction will banish that dream from your head, and nothing is more distracting, for better or worse, than niche internet drama. You've got your fork halfway to your mouth when there, on your desktop, is the file you haven't so much as glanced at in well over a month. Am I losing it.

You read through the document inside, remembering your past self typing it up with feigned nonchalance. The dream had rattled you then, and it rattles you now, only worse because this one was so much more vivid. So much more real. You'd been a spectator before, but this time you'd been there, in the dream itself. Your legs throb with phantom pains, like they should burn.

It is significantly harder to convince yourself that the dream, whatever it was, could only have been brought on by your day at the lake. This feels…other.

So you write it all down. Every detail, every terrifying moment, laid out as explicitly as you can make it. Maybe you are losing it, that's always a possibility. But you know the land is awake now, and you know that it does not want you, however much a forest and lake can or cannot want something. Is it so far-fetched that this dream is more than a dream? A warning, maybe?

You don't know, and you aren't sure if you want to know. All you can do is make a report of what you felt, what you saw, and hope that it does a future version of you some good.

That next sleep, pasta-induced and taken hunched over your desk, is punctuated by dreams of cool, calloused fingers tracing your jaw, the tendons of your throat, and the dip of your clavicle. Two eyes, mismatched and gorgeous in a swirl of void that serves as a face you haven't yet seen, watch you with open adoration.

When you wake from this one, sunlight pouring in from behind closed curtains, you can only touch your feverishly warm cheeks and wince.

"Oh no."

[blueper-saiyan]

I’m overanalyzing something that’s canonically not meant to be thought about, for fun, so here’s a speculative Saiyan biology question: how often do they actually need to eat? I’ve sort of joked about the possibility that it’s like large predators irl where they gorge themselves occasionally and then wait until the next big kill. This would balance out the amount they’re eating to closer to a normal human, just a surprising amount in one sitting, and dodge the thing I’m about to go off the deep end about. But I think they’re probably supposed to need that amount frequently? Which is like, rodent levels of frequency and portions, but unlike a small mammal, a huge amount of actual food consumed. It’s fine if there’s only a handful of Saiyans on a whole planet but how did that work when there was a lot of them? That’s a massive amount of food, where is it coming from? Are they mostly feeding their army by taking food from conquered planets? They’d still need to be producing enough for their homeworld. Is it being farmed automatically and that’s how they can have the majority of their whole species be soldiers? But like, Gine has a job processing meat, so it’s clearly not entirely automated. Stuck thinking about Saiyan agricultural production and supply logistics help.

Unfortunately, I can also say that almost immediately after finding out the amount that Saiyans eat, the back of my mind did jump to “how fast do they starve?” Like, is that a much bigger threat for them than a human or do they have about the same amount of reserves, even if they’re eating more? If it is way faster, how does that affect how they view food/hunger? As a fun irl example, hummingbirds have such an insane metabolism that they would potentially starve to death if they slept at night. So they don’t sleep like normal, they enter a state that’s more like hibernation to slow their metabolism down enough to survive. Many hummingbird species are fiercely territorial because they need access to their food source or they starve. I imagine a theoretical hummingbird society would be thinking about food differently. And because this is my indulgent post where I get to talk about animals, I’m also going to bring up vampire bats, which could also potentially starve if they can’t feed within two days or so (I did not go deep into scientific literature to find original numbers and sources for this estimate I’m sorry true bat fans. Actually same goes for the hummingbird estimate but I know more about birds.). Unlike the more territorial hummingbirds though, vampire bats roost together during the day in colonies, with the same other bats repeatedly. And their food source can’t be guarded like a flower patch can, so there’s less purpose to territoriality. So they can form long term friendships with each other by interacting in ways like grooming each other. Within these friendships, when one bat gets a meal during their few-hour-a-night feeding window, but the other one doesn’t, the one who got enough food will often share with their friend to keep them from going hungry. Then their friend returns the favor when their roles are reversed, keeping them both alive, along with the rest of their friend network.

So those are some very different responses to needing food nearly constantly. If I were deeper in ecology mode I could probably try and come up with explanations based on the types of food source and territory and other factors for why, but I’m here to apply this to Saiyans lol. Honestly, a cooperative strategy would make more sense given that they’re pretty human-like, but that’s certainly not the sense we get given of their society. Were they always super individualistic or is that a recent development? Are they even actually individualistic or is that fully a societal role thing (elites are different from lower class warriors)? Or is the idea that they don’t cooperate partly a lie made up after their deaths anyway? Speculative biology for intelligent species get the extra layer of culture just to make things more messy and fun. We also know pretty much nothing about their original home planet and the actual context that shaped them, so I don’t get to apply other factors, like how easy it is to defend food sources or how important it is to stick together. We probably won’t ever get to know anything more about their original homeworld/Sadala, which is disappointing given that we got hints about it, but it does leave more room for speculation.

[ratspaguetti]

Splatoon headcanon- Fuzzy inkfish

Okay so! In splatoon 3, return of the mammalians, I was sorely disappointed when said mammalians where just...hairy and brainwashed, literally that's it, which had let me down so bad, given the fact that slight alteration of character model and brainwashing had already happened before (sanitization) and genuinely, the occasions haven't changed much behavior wise, so this is how I have headcanoned what should have actually happened in splatoon 3!

Behavior

Given the fact that the fuzzy ink fish are now mammalian, depending on the inkfish, they might hiss, scratch, bite, and attack like a wild animal, really depending on the type of animal they are based off of, I imagine most would be bearlike because it is Mr Grizz that made this happen, but imagine, a fuzzy inkling with Spirulas growing out of their head like sheep horns, completely ramming a another inkling a good couple of feet away! Making interesting gameplay! And given Japan seems to love cat girls (can't blame them) give a octoling some cat ears and very agile and bam! Happy fans- (I will probably talk more about behaviors in a different post)

They also do not use weapons! Given the fact they are mammals, they use their animal like features instead to fully attack [this is what will be explored in a different post]

Body

I need bullet points for these because there is a lot I wanna go through

Mammals aren't just fluffy creatures, they also have these cool nest things called bones and warm blood

So fuzzy ink fish will first experience "fever" like symptoms as their ink slowly heats up, and over a long period of time (depending on how much furry goop they have been exposed to and how long they have been a fuzzy inkfish) and go into a hibernation like state, when they come back to, their body will have had the changes, first, they are not hot blooded and have furr in their tentacles

Later on, their body will slowly shift to a more animal like appearance, like hands slowly enlongating and growing large claws, more hunched like posture to more easily run in four legs, growing new teeth that are more mammalian in nature (could be herbivore, could be carnivore) some will grow more furry along their extremities as well, some will even grow more animal like ears and eyes

At this stage, most of these bodily changes are still reversible with enough medical equipment, as the ink fish are still majorly cartilage and ink, so they can be reformed (kinda how they can still change into a squid or octopus)

Yet, when their bones start to grow, these changes are mostly irreversible, bones will form after a good couple of months, this will make fuzzy inkfish tanks compared to normal ink fish, the skeletal structure has downsides however, like the inability to turn into a squid/octopus anymore, given the fact that you can't really shapeshift into something as small as a squid, where would all those bones go??

But their inability to shapeshift smaller does not mean they cannot shapeshift at all, by or consuming the fuzzy ooze or ink, their body will grow in size, and they take a much more animal like shape, like how a human where to turn into a werewolf, in this form, they do high amounts of damage by the swings of their claws

Their bones and thicker skin would also do that one think most inklings and octolings can't do, get in water, cuz let's be honest, unless the oceans are actual acid, having a body with thicker skin, bones and muscle tissue, probably makes these Fuzzy Inklings/octolings able to actually swim!

Also, when their skeletal structure is growing, they will likely also grow tails (you can't have tails otherwise, yah need the spindle bones to make it, no-?)

I'll continue all this later- it's just my ideas I've been thinking of-

[lilystargazerwhite]

I’ve mentioned him so many times but here he finally is lol!

Name: Chiharuo Yoritomo (頼朝 千春お, real name Prìomhadail) his Japanese name, while meaning “Thousand years of spring” can also be a homophonic sound to “父” or father, playing on his role as a father of spring.

Species: currently Aos sí (irish oak turned spriggan then ascended to Greater winged fairy Aos sí)

Ability: to control growth (成長を制御する程度の能力)

Age: between 45,000-5,000 years old. This mf was chilling with cave men. Physical form is around 60.

Chiharuo is the god of spring, childhood and fertility, residing in a long forgotten and overgrown shrine deep in nameless hill. He’s spent his years in gensokyo attempting to rescue children left there, but is not always successful. He’s a sweet old man, having his own sort of orphanage at the shrine. Most of his children are fae, but rarely he will taken in a human or yokai child.

Did I make Lily a whole family cause I love her so much? Yes, and here’s her dad. I like to think she gets so excited for spring because it means he will come out of hibernation.

Chiharuo’s born race I guess you could say would he that of a Cro-magon (early European, dating around 50,000+ years ago), which are no longer around obviously. If he had a default true form, it would look like a caveman made out of wood.

His current incarnation form is a male Asian, but in the past have ranged in race and gender. Here are some alt looks for him

His wings are based on the Lunar moth. They are often under his kimono.

His eyes are always closed.

Excerpt from my fae document (that tumblr won’t let me fucking paste:

Theme: 優しい春の父~ first utterance (gentle spring father) this one isn’t entirely done yet but this is what I have.

He has a list of spell cards I’m overjoyed to share

Chiharuo spell cards:

Curious case, mr.button (reverse growth, makes things smaller or younger or whatever) name: the curious case of Benjamin button

A hundred seconds till midnight ( growth, makes things bigger or older) name: the doomsday clock

And the tree was happy ( grows a giant tree that has bullets as petals which fall quickly before it reverts back into a seed ) name: the giving tree

The maiden and the selkie ( summons fae to fight for him for a bit, mainly lesser winged fairies) name: from Heather dale love herrr

The much talked of Metamorphosis ( takes moth form, which the eyes on his wings stare intensely refracting light through them) name: a fucking rob zombie song.

Appalachian fiction dreaming ( causes cell overgrowth, like a cancer. Can be very pretty but deadly of course, heavily based on the growth from the movie Annihilation ) name: Appalachian mountains and 2 things I’ve heard people say before .

Flowers never bend with the rainfall (opens his eyes ) name: Simon and Garfunkel

Anyway that’s him. He’s my beloved. I have many other drawings of him so here’s that

[winderlylandchime]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well and that your trip is good and fun. But holy shit, i hope you and your partner manage to stay covid free! I’m sending some healing thoughts to your SIL since covid absolutely sucks!

Also a few things i do have to say because you need to know (most of them i was told to tell you guys): we went to the doctor yesterday and he was proudly wearing his new shirt. Everyone found it hilarious and accurate portrayal of him/his year. And then he told the whole office (2 doctors and 3 nurses) that he is now famous on the internet because i told bunch of people about him watching the show. And the doctor who is in charge of his case (the guy who did the surgery lol), looked at me, pointed at him and slowly went ‘you made him other people’s problem?’ And my brother proudly said ‘Yes, she did! *realized what was said* heeeeey, i can be quite a delight, just ask the people on the no porn site’ (yes, that is how he told them about tumblr). And my brother wanted me to let you all know that his cast has to stay on for another week, so he is very sad about that BUT the big news that he immediately looked at me (in the office in front of them btw) and went ‘you gotta tell my new homies about this’ was that in two weeks he has his final check up with his surgeon bc he wants to do all tests one last time and then if all is good which they believe will be, he can officially go home and back to his whatever tf normal life is for him. So looks like I’m losing my two roommates soon. Shit will be boring ngl.

Then the other more important thing! My brother had your blog opened on his tag, but i guess he went to check out the rest of the blog because he walked in this morning and went ‘did you fucking know that they write stories?! About Brian and Blondie? WHAT IS THIS? AND THERES SO MANY FUCKING COOL GIFS TOO. LIKE SHIT TON OF THEM! I saw one where Gale was talking in that interview about Prom and Blondie from that panel and then there were gifs from the episode and behind the scenes with it! That had to take for fucking ever! Do people just make them all the time? See? when *puts out one hand* Fandom and *puts out the other hand* love, come together *puts his hands together* beautiful things come to life.’

So he is currently going through your ao3/bookmarks but i did tell him to read your other fics before the new one.. Btw he didn’t move from the couch for a few hours after he discovered it. His favorites so far are: we didn’t know we could reach the stars (he thought that one was a very accurate portrayal of what Brian and Justin would be like if the writers didnt ruin it), clothes mean nothing until someone lives in them (he really enjoyed that one btw. He especially thought the ‘not the first boy to jerk off to thoughts of Brian in this bed’ was clever as fuck and literally went ‘ooohhh shit’ when he read it)

and Youre like a tattoo (he gasped when he realized the plot and went ‘ITS REVERSED!’). And when he finally made it to your new fic he fucking lost it (he had a tiny report on it)

I did show him your replies from previous messages and here’s the message from the guy himself (read this as if youre listening to a very caffeinated person pacing up and down, for accurate pov): I was a breath of fresh air for them? Fucking hell, so this fandom is in like a hibernation, huh? I’m fucked, aren’t I? Well anyway, thank you stranger for very sweet words. I fuck with this person! I think we’d be friends. I FUCKING LOVE LITTLE EDIE! Me and (his best friends name) always quote the ‘It was quite the scandal actually. It was in all the magazines at the time’ in Jinx’s voice whenever some random shit is asked. Them and their spouse sound like they’re fucking fun to be around. Wait you gotta tell them I read the stories they wrote, i’m still reading other people’s shit, i have a lot to catch up to. But that one that isn’t done yet is fucking brilliant. I mean they all are but I read that one twice! I had to watch the reunion episode from season 3 because it made me all nostalgic when they got back together. It’s exactly how I’d like the show to be. Its nice to read and go mhm thats my bri bri, unlike in the show where it was not my bri but an imposter. I also very much fuck with older Brian who has a beard and glasses. Because he looked pretty as fuck in that little comic con video. I’m excited to see how they end it and i really really hope that they had fun writing these stories because i had a lot of fun reading them. Anyway, tell them, they’re fucking cool, their stories are fucking dope, i also really liked that one about them sharing their clothes AND THE ONE WHERE BLONDIE WAS THE SUGAR DADDY! I fucking told you that will happen..i was just wrong as to where. And im glad to see that the *lifts his cast* ally, is catching on.

PS, we both got all ‘awwww’ and a little emotional ngl, when we read your response how you’ve been thinking of us while writing. And just so you know we spent all day today discussing your fics (when he got to the cliffhanger, he went ‘i am once again being teased just like with the love confession’) and some other fics from other creators that he read and enjoyed. The man is in awe. Every time he’d read a new chapter/fic he goes ‘this is the best thing ive read’ over and over.

Hello hello hello dear sweet anon and brother anon!

Thank you for your well wishes. My SIL tested negative this morning so we are officially in the clear (and can abandon our masks). I think we did a good job being responsible within the circumstances. Luckily, my SIL’s symptoms never got bad and the cold I arrived with (was it a cold or an intense allergic reaction to cleaning my apartment and kicking up all that dust?) never evolved into anything more unpleasant.

I love that we’re not the people on the “no porn site.” And we do all think he’s delightful. I’m glad he’s recovering well and can soon live independently from you but I imagine life will be a lot quieter and less chaotic without him and feline BriBri.

Yes! Gifs allow us to relive every moment of the series, draw parallels etc. Let’s give a hand to @sophsun1 who is basically carrying the fandom on her back with her beautiful gifs.

I am absolutely floored by his reaction to my fics. Thank you so much for passing along the kind words he had. I’m glad he like the 5+1 clothes sharing fic (I have such a soft spot for it), and We Didn’t Know We Could Reach the Stars is such an overlooked fic (I forget I wrote it!). AND of course Tattoo was my beloved fic this year.

The fandom isn’t in hibernation so much as it is small and basically zero new content has been released in eons and so it is a small fandom with nowhere near the works produced that large currently or recently active fandoms have (tbh those fandoms intimidate me - I will read GO fic but joining a discord or writing fic in there? so scary!).

“It was quite the scandal really…” is the other quote I say to my spouse on hair wash / hair turban days! I like to think we *are* fun to be around. Especially if quote RPDR S5 is your idea of fun. Then we’re a blast!

I do have fun writing fics. I bitch and moan and complain, but I love writing them and getting to put them out into the world. I’m even more excited to write and post the last chapter of Fireflies now that I know your brother has read it. And I’m delighted to hear that he thinks I kept his beloved BriBri in character (if we ignore WTF happened to his character in S5).

I’m honestly a little bit emotional from your PS. I write fics because I love to write them but hearing that you’re sitting around discussing them? I love writing them but I do want an audience (otherwise I wouldn’t publish them) and there are fics out there that I feel that way about (written by other people) so for my fics to be that to someone… just, I need a moment and a tissue.

*makes fist* ally

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

QSMP Zombie Au…Zombies

I am going to REGRET writing this at 2 am when I have yet to plug in my headphones and phone or the night all the way the 2 feet across my room.

(if I haven’t made it abundantly clear, ZOMBIES TERRIFY AND FASCINATE ME)

(MOSTLY TERRIFY)

Enjoy the zombie lore dump I guess

Appearance: Fresh zombies look just like living humans, BUT the further the infection takes a hold on them, the more glazed and foggy their eyes look. The zombies don’t actually exhibit symptoms of rot as the people are still…technically alive, they just have a mind controlling fungal virus trying to spread as fast as possible through spores. Not much about appearance here cause they don’t look dead.

(NO this isn’t a cop out because I don’t want to think of rotting zombies I promise)

Behavior: THIS WILL BE HUGE!!! There are several stages of the infection that will be explained.

Stage I. The virus has JUST been transferred. The victim is not contagious yet, and exhibits no outwardly symptoms. This stage is actually able to be reverted!!! If the victim immediately cleans the wound where it was transferred (unless the victim made out with a zombie, but that’s generally advised against) they will have a fair chance that the stages will not progress. Additionally, there is actually a chance that the immune system will be able to attack and kill the spores. By cleaning the wound, you have a good chance of survival if you have a decent immune system as well! Yippee!!!

Stage II. Eyes will be slightly glazed here. Not much. The victim might experience some twitching and spasms as the body fights its hardest against the foreign spores. This stage is also not contagious. There is a small chance of reverting back this stage as well if the body has an incredibly strong immune system and the wound has been properly cleaned. It is rare, but not impossible.

Stage III. Eyes are glazed over. This stage is mildly infectious. The victim is still able to speak, but might have some difficulties with mobility as the brain is now actively fighting against the commands of the spores. Putting the victim into a coma might offer a chance of reversion, but it would be risky. Movements are jerky and the victim might struggle with memory loss issues. Keep in mind the infection is spread by spores transferred through saliva or other fluids coming in contact with open wounds or mouth.

Stage IV. Movements are almost completely controlled by the fungus now. This stage is moderately infectious and there is no hope at reversion as of now. The only chance is to cryogenically freeze the body (shhh it works here) and wait for a cure to be developed. The victim might be able to say a word once in a while, or just barely slow down the victim, but it is NOT a thing to bet on.

Stage V. The fungus has complete control over the brain now. These guys are pretty fast, not inhuman, and you could outrun because it’s not perfectly adapted, but the fungus knows how to use the body. The person behind the fungus is basically in hibernation, maybe a cure could be found one day but for now they are pretty lost.

So I might add things on later to this, but yeah. Also these stages can progress differently depending on the situation and strength of the person. Could be a week, a few days, maybe more. The victim at least has 24 hours though.

Also I’m aware that in most modern day societies a virus like this (A. Wouldn’t exist) wouldn’t be much of a threat because of the reversions in the beginning and the military presence (FUN FACT the US military has several protocols for what to do during zombie apocalypses, and one of them has something to do with space zombies and zombie chickens.)

But anyways here the government is a bit scattered and not put together and they undersell the threat level until there’s a couple of Stage V’s chilling out and getting people .

So yeah. Feel free to add asks or stuff, and yeah.

[lifechanyuan]

Reverse Thinking

Three meals a day are considered essential. The diet should be varied; otherwise, malnutrition may ensue. This is conventional wisdom. If you firmly believe it to be an absolute truth, then indeed it is. You become accustomed to three meals a day; should you miss one, you'll feel hunger and uneasy. If you believe two meals a day suffice, then indeed they do. If one day you were to consume an extra meal, you'd experience stomach discomfort. If you believe one meal a day is adequate, then it is. Regarding food, if you subscribe to the theories of nutritionists, you'll include chicken, duck, fish, various fruits, vegetables, etc., in your diet. If you adopt a diet that is too simplistic, it will result in your physical and mental emaciation, accompanied by fatigue. But if you reject the conventional nutritionist's approach, believing that consuming only one egg and a glass of milk per day provides ample energy, then indeed it does. Furthermore, if you firmly believe that subsisting on a spoonful of honey, an apple, and an adequate amount of spring water per day is sufficient, then it is. Should you believe that abstaining from food and drink altogether, existing as your own cosmic entity, allows for longevity, then you've grasped the mechanics of animal hibernation, attaining the wisdom of Bodhidharma.

Expanding upon this, should you experience faint stomach pains one day, subsequently suspecting stomach cancer and thinking daily, "Oh no, I have stomach cancer," within three months, a medical examination confirms your fears. Conversely, after an examination reveals lung cancer, should you firmly assert, "This cannot be lung cancer; my lungs are perfectly healthy, and there's no way I could have lung cancer," three months later, the lung cancer dissipates. The key lies in the power of the mind. It only works when one believes sincerely; with sincerity, one can split gold. "I'm old, I'm no longer capable." "I'm already forty, what else can I do?" "This life is what it is. If there's an afterlife, I must..." "I'm already eighty, this illness cannot be cured." "This is impossible." "This is too fantastical." These sentiments, born of conventional thinking, lead one down a path of negativity, a suicidal mindset, a misconception of human nature, a spreading virus. Some may argue, "I'm already in my seventies, nearing the end; even if I were to break free from conventional thinking, what good would it do?" Let me tell you, every day of a person's life, every age, marks both an end and a new beginning. Each day heralds the birth of a new self. People can live not only to one hundred but even two hundred years. The reason for disbelief lies in the millennia of conventional thinking constraining minds and thoughts, coupled with the misleading notions of shallow science, claiming a pituitary gland at the back of the brain secretes a fluid controlling lifespan and asserting that humans undergo only seven cell divisions from birth to death. These are all negative inductions. "Be practical and realistic; don't aim too high. Human lives rarely exceed seventy. You're almost eighty; be content. Do you really believe in a second youth?" The next time someone dares to preach such "wisdom," tell them to take their ignorant babble elsewhere.

An elephant can be tied to a stake with only a thin rope; a farmer can be tied to the ground with only a bit of land; a worker can be tied to a workshop with only a few sets of tools and a workplace; an intellectual can be tied to a job with only a few hundred yuan salary and the hope of being promoted; a businessman can be tied to a business field with only a little profit; a follower of a religion can be bound within a certain religion by a scripture; and an official can be tied to a post with only one position. The moral creed of "Children whose parents are still alive should not travel too far away from their parents" has tied a high school outstanding classmate of mine near his home forever; the absurd causal preaching of "There are three forms of unfilial conducts, having no male heir is the gravest of the three", has made countless respectable people suffer from inner torment forever. For their parents, for relatives and friends, for children, for traditional virtues, for reputation, countless men and women who do not love each other silently endure and live together for a lifetime...

Everyone is more or less tied by invisible ropes, and everyone's mind is covered by an invisible net of thinking; everyone is carrying a heavy cross, but they can't feel it, or they can feel it but do not have the strength and courage to break through the fetters. Seeing that the people around them are living like this, they feel at ease, get used to it, become numb, so they bear it.

Someone asked me: "It's easy for an elephant tied by a string to break free, but where will it go if it breaks free?"

Yes, if you break free, where can you go? With no fodder, no jobs, no wages, no position, and even no housing and the surrounding relationships, how can one survive?

There was a group of swans. Every autumn, they flew over thousands of mountains and rivers in a group, singing songs all the way, admiring the green mountains and blue waters under their wings, and going to the far south to open up new living areas. A few of them were captured and fed by humans. They grew fatter and fatter, having no worry about food and drink, and carefree. Even in the cold wind and snow, there was a shelter protecting them from the wind. As time went by, they got used to the food given by the master and got used to the joy with the chickens, ducks, pigs, and dogs. Their brothers and sisters flew back the next year, and they met with a burst of kisses and hubbub. Autumn was here again, and the brothers and sisters came to encourage them to fly to the warm south together, but they advised their brothers and sisters in turn: "Stay here, there is food, drink, and housing here. Why bother to fly back and forth every year? Besides, the place you fly to may not necessarily be lush with water and grass. Even if the food is abundant, you have to find food yourself. How can it compare to us here having food and drink, and being free and easy?" The brothers and sisters shook their heads in puzzlement, one by one, they spread their wings and flew away.

In the third year, spring had come, and the flowers were in bloom, the brothers and sisters flew back again with singing, but except for two nephews and nieces, their original brothers and sisters were nowhere to be seen. They asked their dirty nephew: "Where did your uncles and aunts go?" The lame niece rushed to cry: "A few uncles were killed by the master to entertain guests, other uncles were killed by the mistress, saying that she wanted to nourish her body, and the aunts were taken away by relatives and friends of the family. Don’t know whether they are still alive. When I was grabbing food with the puppy, my leg was bitten by the mother dog, what should my brother and I do now?” As she spoke, she squatted on the ground in despair. All the swans came around at once, stroked and comforted with their white wings: "Children, don't cry, we will take you out of here this autumn."

"Where can we go?" asked the poor nephew.

Long-term habits have formed a fixed thinking. Once the thinking is fixed, it is difficult to break through.

to be continued

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAO no in between either cute or majestic where are the horses with the goofy ass names at (just an example but imagine someone w a horse named sock)

AHAHAH YEAH compared to karasus otoyas bfb has a lot more crack in it LOL lowk before discovering you whenever I saw crack it was usually like….brainrot crack where the characters would fully be like “OH MY GERD WHAT JN THE SKIBIDI SIGMA” “LMAOO DEEZ NUTS IN YO FACE” which personally had me clicking the close tab button asap I’ll be forever traumatized your crack content is the Goldilocks zone of crack

Imagine instead we just form a bllk au where the entire setting is the same we just bring justice to characters who need it LMAOOO people will be like bllk au? Aren’t they already in bllk?????

I’m fr just waiting to see the end the last few chapters have just been “hmmm who’s getting revived this ch?” Instead of who’s being thrown into the Sukuna fight arena shdgshshs yeah I have NO clue what’s going on tbh I thought higuruma was a confirmed goner alr but ig not??

I wanna see an expansion of the Barou aiku rivalry….like wdym we see them on the same nel team but we never address that??? Cmon…

Also PAUSE SPEAKING OF WE MANIFESTED OUR PRAYERS ANSWERED EGOIST BIBLE V2 RELEASING AFOUND S2 START TIME!!! Will be dropping translations ofc drop your requests here…there’s apparently a new ranking for “top 3 [insert category here]” so I’ll def do that along with any profiles we don’t have

I remember immediately getting rid of moves like leer and growl LMAO ofc if there was an obvious type disadvantage I’d bring appropriate pokemon (like gym leaders) but otherwise it’s kinda just brute forcing my way through with an op pokemon I liked

The way I completely forgot some of the teams you listed already Im gonna have to like copy it and paste it to the side so I can reference it faster shshshs imagine she traded that away and then later was like lmao u scammed me so this is my gyarados gimme the skrelp back /j wait that’s so funny LMAOOOO you fr had that trading business down…but on that note was there demand for phione for a particular reason….like did they just think it was manaphy….bc now that I think about it I fr cannot remember any significance to phione…

Mcs team sparking the whole uprising talk about girlboss!!!! Her exposing the govt plot on live tv stop that’s such a good idea (I’m crying the kids do everything trope is so funny thinking back on the pokemon plot)

No bc I was about to say I definitely feel like something similar happened in the plot (now I distinctly rmr some like clefairy moon tribe ep..?? Trust we’re definitely thinking of the same one) IM CRYING Reo finally getting gallade only for the competition to be over is SUCH a pokemon plot I can fr see it happening in canon like ash runs back asking where everyone is only for the worker to calmly be like “oh it’s over” and ash falls to his knees screaming LMFAOO but I DO RMR THAT we know my memory’s kinda shit though so idk exactly which pokemon ash brought (was it primape??? Idr tbh)

LMAO THE REVERSE OTOYA TEAM I kinda love that the unexpected trips are lowk my fave like you get ready to battle hiori fully expecting like, a Mareep and maybe a lanturn or a azumarill but no metagross and luxray you really cooked crafting mcs team though I could never LOL

AHDHSA gagamaru having no contact info is so funny he runs a elusive ifykyk business yuki having his Alakazam telepathically track him is so real

Nagi tweaking over the aegislash and having an unspoken sort of one sided Karasu rivalry is actually hilarious if this au actually comes into existence I will fr be laughing my ass off in this arc WHIMSICOTT NAGI SO REAL

LOLL fall is hibernation time that’s still only a quarter of the year idk how you do it

Ok time to merge asks before the other one gets too long and then your blog is fr flooded with these

NAH BC STEVEN STONE WAS JUST THE IT BOY/DUDE IG??? I’m ngl I see a lot of Steven fans around too idk there was just something so charming abt him….

Me conveniently forgetting the teams you talked about even after I fr sent in info about said pokemon on that team but hiori embodying “I can fix it” for that ducklett and succeeding and then Karasu losing it like “wtf wdym it can do shit” would be so hilarious

Gyarados being flying never fails to make me scratch my head but wtv it’s pokemon logic but i love lowk inner team pokemon dynamics swanna and nidoqueen having beef LMAOO SWANNA MEETING BAROU IN HELL IS DIABOLICAL LMFAOOOO ig now you know where the pokemon universe gets it roasted fowl dishes from

Im ngl kangaskhan is fr like the otoya of the pokemon world it’s fr just kinda forgotten (by myself too) i totally forgot it can mega evolve LMAOO mega houndoom is fr cool as hell though (imagine mc and Barou got their houndoomite together SHDGSHS) galvantula being the secret ace of the team is so funny i bet everyone’s like “bro u brought this random ass spider” and then proceed to get decked

LMFAOO in your prev response I was fr gonna respond with Pablo’s last name but I couldn’t rmr how to spell it and did not want to look it up so I just left it bc lowk he’s not that relevant generally either I was almost gonna write “ca-“ and just dip

OOOOH LMK WHAT TEAMS YOU END UP CHOOSING

- Karasu anon

well i did know a miniature horse named boytoy KDCBSHSN idk if that quite counts as goofy in the way you were describing but it’s definitely up there in terms of craziness 😭

oh i have definitely seen those kinds of fics and agreed i’m not a huge fan…MY version of crack is just the characters being sassier than usual with each other and ending up in kinda ridiculous situations that are treated as completely normal in-story LMAOO tbh it’s basically just me writing in the comedy genre instead of doing angst/character studies but that doesn’t sound as fun as calling it crack does

HELPP bllk but it’s miraverse au…everyone reading is like “wtf does miraverse mean” BAHAH like no just trust the process your mind will be altered by the way each character is written TRUST

no literally it’s such a reversal from the sukuna fight that i’m just like 🤨 it feels very…not gege…idk like wdym this is the same guy that wrote shibuya?? honestly i wonder if he’s under pressure from his editor or smth to change the story/ending from what he wanted because if so that’s kind of sad

nah because so much could’ve been done w barou and aiku tbh idk why they made lorenzo try so hard to be friends with barou that role could’ve easily and more sensibly been filled by aiku 😭 also OMG NEW EGOIST BIBLE LET’S GOOO pls the top 3 categories are always so funny especially the little snide comments if you happen to translate those def send them in ‼️ and yess hopefully more characters will get profiles!! or the current profiles get updated with more silly stuff

LMAOOO I WAS EXPERIENCED WITH IT i think it was mostly people trying to finish the pokédex?? because you can’t catch or get phione in any way but the manaphy breeding trick so before most people figured that out i was able to get a bunch of cool pokémon in return for my fresh out of the egg level 1 phiones and then other people caught on so the market got saturated and they stopped being in demand 😒 so i had to differentiate myself and started using tms and training them up which worked for a bit but eventually even that stopped working 😓

no because pokémon is INSANE w the kids doing everything trope like wdym the literal champion is telling MY ten year old ass to go and fight a literal god?? is that not their job…anyways yeah i think this method allows for the e4 and all to maintain their notoriety and authority as well as showing the flaws in kids doing everything (because reader is lowkey reckless for confronting the entire govt without a plan and she got lucky that the e4 + gym leaders has smth up their sleeves or else she would’ve been done for) so i like that route a lot!! also the image of reader and houndoom standing there exposing the government to a defeated mr mikage while the camera quality slowly gets blurrier and shakier and right before it disappears into static entirely there’s just a shot of her and houndoom abt to be attacked by govt pokémon and then there’s a region-wide blackout does cook a little i fear

yess it was the mt moon episode!! but ash misty and brock had a researcher w them iirc meanwhile mc trio is literally just the epitome of yolo 😭 they’re honestly like living their best pokémon journey vibes (especially reo and chigiri because nagi does get dragged into reader’s bs with some frequency so he’s not as relaxed as the other two) LMAOAO like while reader and co are fighting corruption and processing grief and enduring trauma mc trio is just fucking around getting gym badges and completing side quests HAHAHA they’re so stupid i love them 🥹 and yeah i think it was his mankey/primeape i forget if it had evolved at that point or not

i think it’s so funny that hiori just wanted nice pokémon to play with and he ended up with a super well balanced team which includes a pseudo legendary, a dragon type, and a prehistoric pokémon revived from a fossil meanwhile otoya wanted a cool strong team and he just has really cute pretty sweet pokémon 😭 although in his defense his pokémon are all really strong as well it’s just a matter of the aesthetics not matching up with the vibe he was hoping to curate 😩

to be honest i used a website that allowed me to input my team and it told me its weaknesses and i just messed around with that until i got to a team that didn’t have any glaring holes!! i’m super happy with it especially because of how unique some of the choices are…like let’s be real how many people are picking DONPHAN for their pokémon ocs 😭

LMAOAOA pokémon au confirming the yuki x gagamaru bestie agenda fr 🤩 nah because lowkey maybe gagamaru’s just in hiding because he’s scared ness will come after him if he becomes a genuine competitor (not a wrong thought to have tbh)

THE AEGISLASH ARC IS SO HILARIOUS like out of context it’s just like “did mira forget what story she’s writing” but when you know what’s happening it’s so so funny especially the way nagi and reader decide to approach it 😭 “oh i GUESS we have to get married for uhhh the plot” “yeah i mean if i HAVE TO i’ll risk my life for you uhhh i mean the plot yeah the plot” (<- two idiots who will one day be madly in love) DNDKLSJDS nagi def wakes up afterwards like “damn dream me is so rizzful good thing i don’t act like that irl because i don’t even like anyone like that especially not y/n 😰” (not that they were really flirty or anything it was more of a “i’ll die for you if that’s what it takes and if it means you live and get to go home then i’ll even do it happily) and then he sees aegislash and is met with the horrifying knowledge that he did in fact try to rizz reader up and furthermore he might actually like her 😩 HAHAA the karasu beef is so funny too because when they’ve first been “isekai’d” reader’s like “yeah ok let’s just follow the plot of the world and get married or wtvr” and nagi’s like “what about karasu 😱” and reader’s like “uh idk what about him” and nagi’s like “aren’t you guys dating won’t he be mad 🤔🫣” which prompts reader to be like that one tik tok sound that’s like “EWWW no he’s like my BROTHER he’s so UGLY this filthy disgusting creature why was he even BORN” (i hope yk what i’m referring to HAHA)

no because steven is literally the ideal man like he’s smart…rich…pretty…strong…talented…shy…sweet…i’m realizing he’s lowkey a nagireo love child but we shall ignore that!!

HAHA to be honest swanna isn’t rlly a great pokémon competitively plus hiori has 0 interest in battling so i can rlly see him taming swanna just by being like “oh ya idrc if you don’t fight” and ducklett/swanna is like “oh fr okay” and decides to just be chill with him (imagine it tweaks when it sees karasu though he’d be SO offended)

swanna and barou #bestiesfortheresties 😜🤩 LMAOAO agreed some pokémon logic is kinda crazy but oh well!! and agreed it’s fun to give the pokémon personalities too!! within reader’s team we have houndoom who’s super loyal and cuddly but also strict w the other pokémon, galvantula who’s really sassy + has a napoleon complex + is besties with houndoom, dragalge who’s mostly rlly shy and keeps to itself but seems to like otoya’s greninja, aegislash who goes from supervillain to mild prankster after getting the beating of its life from houndoom (there’s no beef there but aegislash def has a healthy respect for houndoom and sticks close to gyarados after that), and gyarados who is CONVINCED that it’s still a baby magikarp that should be carried around by reader even though it’s ENORMOUS now (kinda like those huge dogs that try to cram themselves into your lap)

okay because hear me out…baby reader + barou find a really pretty rock when they’re playing so they break it in half to keep as like mementos of each other when they’re apart?? but it turns out to be houndoomite…and in the final battle both reader’s houndoom mega evolved so it kills its iwn brother as well as barou while wearing the proof of reader and barou’s love for each other…the way reader’s love for barou gives her the mental strength to command houndoom to destroy his body (out of respect to him/accepting he’ll never come back) and it also gives houndoom the physical strength to overpower its own brother and put an end to things no matter how hard it is…just thinking yk…haha…😭😭😭😭

LMAAOOA the galvantula downplay always goes crazy especially because a tried and true reader combo is sending out gyarados to use rain dance (100% accuracy for electric moves) and then she returns it so naturally her opponent is like what pokémon could she possibly have that’s scarier than a gyarados but then she sends out galvantula HAHAHA the opponent cracks up but they’re not laughing so hard when galvantula absolutely annihilates them w a combo of sure-hit electric moves and sneaky bug attacks 🤩

according to the wiki it’s cavasoz so that’s what i’m going with…anyways i THINK i have the teams down!! and i managed to avoid repeating any pokémon (more difficult than you’d expect) although if you see any repeats lmk so i can change it!! anyways in this au i’m going w the theory that the gym leaders have diff teams that they use depending on how many badges the challenger has (tbh this might be canon from pokémon generations or smth idk it’s miraverse canon) which is why some of the gym leaders seem noticeably weaker!!

gym leaders:

first gym leader — dada silva — ground-type

cubone + diglett

second gym leader — adam blake — normal-type

furfrou + sawsbuck + purugly

third gym leader — anri teieri — psychic-type

meowstic + slowbro + malamar

fourth gym leader — yayoi karasu — flying-type

hawlucha + skarmory + braviary + gligar

fifth gym leader — pablo cavasoz — fairy-type

wigglytuff + mr. mime + togekiss + dedenne

sixth gym leader — julian loki — electric-type

heliolisk + magnezone + stunfisk + electivire + emolga

seventh gym leader — leonardo luna — poison-type

tentacruel + roserade + scolipede + crobat + nidoking

eighth gym leader — jinpachi ego — ghost-type

mismagius + froslass + chandelure + golurk + trevenant + sableye

elite 4 members:

first e4 member — lavinho — bug-type

beedrill + shuckle + butterfree + scizor + heracross + volcarona

second e4 member — chris prince — fire-type

magmortar + camerupt + simisear + darmanitan + magcargo + blaziken

third e4 member — marc snuffy — fighting-type

medicham + scrafty + throh + mienshao + toxicroak + poliwrath

fourth e4 member — noel noa — steel-type

aggron + klefki + excadrill + bronzong + empoleon + bisharp

[elizabethplaid]

Yeah, but I like it that way.

I can't hide my blather in the tags, so it's going under a cut:

Yes, I've had to "make appointments" to see people who were busy. But the same is true in reverse; you gotta schedule with me, even if I'm not as socially active as you are.

I need time leading up to hanging out, so I can get myself in the right head-space. Can't do something the day after another scheduled event, or even the day before. A second event will zap my energy needed for the pre-existing event.

Like, I had to take off from library duty last autumn, because I had a dental appointment that was really stressing me out. And then I needed another day off, because I was preparing for the craft fair the following week. (Again, really stressed!)

But think about it: Is making an appointment a bad thing? "I am dedicating this time to you, all my attention to you for this moment." Not just "Hey, join me at the last minute, while I'm doing something else."

To go out of your way to seek me out? That is love. Planning ahead, knowing the anticipation will give us butterflies? Love.

I waited like a month-and-a-half before seeing my friend recently. I really needed all of February to myself, a little "mental health hibernation" break. That butterfly-anticipation helped me get through that rough time. I looked forward to waking up the next day, being one day closer to being together. Love, I say!

Scheduling isn't bad. It's just when the ~schedule is booked solid~ that it becomes a problem. There needs to be time and space between appointments to breathe, to gather your thoughts, to build that anticipation. To reflect on your needs and wants, as well as how your friends feel.

Anyway, when I say that, I'm absolutely making fun of my friend for being so busy. Because it's love. They're drowning in love. So many people love them and want to spend time together.

Being neurodivergent, my social battery and capacity is different from others. My friend is, too, but in different ways - not needing the same down-time as me. So if they can stay busy while I need a break, it lessens potential guilt I might feel for needing to rest. I get to recover, and I'll be in better condition for my next meeting because of it.

I've read a little about polyamory lately, and that's an appealing aspect for me. That there's someone to care for my partner when I need time by myself. And there could/would be someone for me, if my partner needed time for him/her/their-self.

So, in conclusion, having to make an appointment isn't necessarily bad. It can make the time together feel all-the-more precious and valuable. And there are good reasons to balance a schedule, like a busy job, spending time with family, or needing time to decompress by yourself.

If you need or want more attention from that friend, speak up and say so. Your friend is important to you, and you want to be important to that friend. If they get offended, then maybe they're not worth your time. If they talk it out with you, maybe you'll get a better perspective on their side of things. Or, better yet, you can work out an better schedule.

You ever have friends with a much more active social life than you and asking them to hang out always feels like you're trying to book an appointment?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’m a little in denial about everything with Lilia but I gotta ask: Do you think Malleus OB can “fix” Lilia in a certain way? Like how sometimes hibernation gives second wind to animals (or how humans feel better after naps.

I am very well aware I’m grasping at straws. I just don’t want my tied for favorite boy to die.

I… don’t think that’s possible, no matter how much we may want it to be.

When Vil greets Lilia at the farewell party, he asks Lilia point-blank if there “really is no other way”. Vil recalls his own predicament returning from Styx HQ as a withered old man and how Malleus was able to restore him to his youth. He asks if Malleus can do the same for Lilia so he can retain his magic and stay enrolled at NRC. To this, Lilia explicitly states that is isn’t possible. “Malleus said it himself: he cannot turn back time.” The only reason Malleus could help Vil was because some external factor robbed Vil of his time; the same is not true of Lilia, who is losing his fight with time (something everyone will naturally succumb to eventually).

Things in the world of Twisted Wonderland are destined to move forward and change, in spite of how much one may wish to remain in their current blissful, carefree school days. All Malleus is doing now in his OB state is prolonging the inevitable because he cannot accept, nor reverse, that change. The whole point of these events and the buildup to it is that “no matter how much power or magic Malleus has, he cannot do anything to change his circumstances”.

Now, I don’t know if that necessarily means TWST will actually permakill Lilia (because he is an integral part of the main cast and marketing) 💦 If time loop or dream theory turns out to be real, then it’s possible some external forces or other deux ex machina could save Lilia…? But at the same time, saving Lilia would kind of detract from what Malleus would have to learn about mortality, friendships, and change. I have no idea what direction the story is planning to go with him from hereon out or how dark the devs will be allowed to go. We’re waiting with baited breath for what’s next 🥲

Side note, I wanted to share something I noticed while thinking about how to respond to this question. So… the wording of the ask is very telling and reflective of the current state of the TWST fandom. “I’m a little in denial about everything […]”, and, “I am very well aware I’m grasping at straws. I just don’t want […]” Don’t we realize it???? We sound exactly like Malleus. We’re in denial about what’s happening and we don’t want things to change.

I wonder if this was planned out from the very beginning. The devs getting us invested in the world of TWST and its characters, only to threaten to take it all away at the very end. This relates exactly with lines Malleus drops about his beloved virtual pet: “Gao-Gao Dragon-kun is fictitious, he more or less exists in a fairy tale. If that is the case, then I don’t see a reason to put a (30 day limit) on his lifespan.” Lilia chimes in, agreeing that it is like a “never ending fantasy”, but then points out that it is because you need to eventually say goodbye that you will cherish the time spent together all the more. Notice their phrasing, all the references to desiring a fairy tale which never ends. That is what we, the players AND Malleus, want. We want to stay like this, forever and ever, locked in one place. We don’t want Lilia to go, we don’t want the third years to leave on their internships, we don’t want the students to graduate and leave us.

This is what fiction like TWST provides for us, an escape from reality, where magical things happen and we’re surrounded by fun people who always stay with you no matter how much you change in the real world—and now TWST is challenging that notion. Is it really right to want to live in an eternal dream like this, at the cost of fabricating your happiness?? Or is it better to wake up and face reality, no matter how harsh it may be?? Even if our loved ones will leave, even if Lilia will die? This is both what Malleus and we, the players, need to come to terms with, rather than continue to delude and convince ourselves to stay in “the dream” with a false sense of security.

[shipwreck-letters]

hi sorry for disappearing for weeks i was hibernating

i just wanted 2 ask how you'd think the monster manor story would progress (like how'd the characters develop, how u think it'd end and what u think of the character that was teased but never released)

im kind of losing hope ab MM ending or even just having a good story because of the recent announcement adydhwnbehdisjcm

Long, long post incoming. I ramble a lot, my brain is like Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. (I missed you, though! Nice to see you again! How have you been?) (Also swearing,,,swearing- Edit: There was much more swearing before I read over this and took out the Dorian shit, because I really wanna shake them by the shoulders and-)

I honestly think about this question ALL the time. And by the end of this, I do have an idea for an ending!!! It's down below. It's just a lot of rambling beforehand.

ERYTHEIAAAAAA- Am I spelling her name right?? She's really pretty, really strong, her character design speaks, but I wish we had more.

I don't have much I can really say about Erytheia, because I always get stuck on what Lynne said about "sounding like a Greek chorus" That always stops me from trying to write her myself, because ???? WHAT- I do not know enough about Greece, or Greek mythology, to even begin to do that. I am an Indigenous country bird. I feel so bad, though- Maybe I could try again and get back to you on that. No promises, though 😭😭😭 That would honestly, in my opinion, need to be something that maybe some more people can talk more about and come to an agreement on.

I wish we could get just one line, one sentence, one paragraph of dialogue or set-up. I miss her, and I only saw ONE sketch of her.

The way Sage's story took a crazy turn, and how he ended up 6 months during the new war; I would have never predicted that at ALL- So it's like,,,I wonder if a crazy twist would happen with MM-

But it doesn't seem like there would be a whole "Upright/Reversed" thing, because MC is clearly competent enough to not have Casimir or Rainier fall back into their vices again. That would be so dumb for them to establish this change, and then say "haha whoopsie yes Casimir become the beast- Yes Rainier, break out and raise hell as a dragon on Earth" like,,,that would be dumb-

I'm talking out of my ass, I think, because Casimir and Rainier aren't my OCs, but it seemed like we already met them during their arc? During that time of change and sadness, and hopefully it would be a story of change for the future.

Surrounded by people that are in the same boat as him, he'd have a new focus on getting to know these people, MC, and have an outlook of fixing these rooms, sharing his story and his own knowledge about things! Getting to know them, too. Maybe his curse was like a self-fulling prophecy, because the only times he transformed with MC is under intense stress or emotions. He never transformed when Rainier lost control, he was perfectly fine.

So I think...Casimir's rooms/arc were semi-complete during those chapters, and that tale. In general, very very very general. It gave me enough to hypothesize, and Rainier is the same. But...Still not enough. It's not Lynne-approved, Lynne-directed, Lynne please come back and swipe your story-

Maybe during these times, he'd have a few transformations that he can't help. He'd be really nervous, because now he has access to hurt others, not just himself or the House. But but but- I think....that MC or Rainier or maybe even Erytheia stands up to the beast enough times that it starts to change. It begins to go away, and Casimir doesn't even realize- He still has the traits, and the abilities that comes with it, but I think that Casimir wouldn't even realize until MC mentions the beast and someone is like "you transform?" and Casimir is like "....Now that you mention it-"

I think it would come to a head with MC, honestly- This character that is unwavering, the glue that holds everything together...There's gotta be a moment where they're like "Well now everyone is together, I guess my job is done here" But they try to leave and it's like,,,,No, actually. MC deserves to be cared for, as well. They (you, the reader, too) need reassurance and repair beyond just being looked at as the fixer-upper, the sunlight-

I think once MC has a moment where they realize for a moment that they can also accept that this home isn't just for the characters, but for them, too- They can stay, or go, maybe with Casimir to the modern world, or with Rainier to Almithara, but there will always be a home, here, a refuge.

That's what it was always meant to be, right? I think that would be an ending that I would like to see, anyway. Not too personal, not too vague, but being able to leave or stay with the character(s) you romance, augh. I want to see Rainier's home, I want to show Casimir the world 🎶, I also want the fade to black scene I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT-

It wouldn't be chaotic crazy like LL, where there's war or death, but those topics do come up in terms of Casimir's past, or Rainier's jobs regarding the Magister. But the past is not an end-all-be-all, and the House was meant to be a place where you can get help, be helped, and then be let go again. (I think- It had to be, no way did the House intend to just keep them there forever)

Casimir couldn't leave, because he couldn't see that. Rainier couldn't (can't) leave, because he couldn't (can't) see that. With a group of different minds, it's a cycle of helping each other, helping yourself, and also....Being able to romance or have a great friend and support because of that.

That's what I think, anyway. If I was a Fictif Ambassador (which I do not ever want to be tbh), I wouldn't have much to say regarding any completed stories, or even Into the Mist, but for Monster Manor? I fully believe that's a good ending. That's what I would bring, and I will milly rock someone for saying it needs to be darker, or grittier, or whatever.

I know that it would be different, working under such harsh conditions, and Dorian....Ugh. What a shitshow.

What was the point of the whole Ambassador roles, they approved the Asra tale??? That was so lackluster- Who wrote and approved that shit- I just want to talk, Dorian.

There's still much that I want answered and it makes my eye twitch that Dorian is pulling this horseshit buffonery...

But I might do that in another post. Here's a little brightness that I've been thinking about lately:

Bendy and the Ink Machine. The Dark Revival. It came back! It's so fantastic, it's beautiful. I hope that LL and MM can get the same treatment- A revival. A good ending to beautiful concepts and aesthetics. Sage, Anisa, Felix, Casimir, Rainier, Erytheia, and even Fin- They fucking deserve it. Maybe the devs can bring them back, slightly redesigned, with a different name, but ultimately the same plot and vibe.

I won't ever "drop" Monster Manor, it's gotten me through some stuff, and still does! It brought me Finch, it brought me friends and a fandom! I owe it a lot, and I hope we can see it to a completed end.

But...Do make sure to record the story, screenshot it, what have you. Prepare to prepare, is what my uncle says about tough situations.

[outtox1cated]

I've been thinking about this guy and decided to make them a separate character from Saint cuz I don't think the originial concept would make sense.

I also got more ideas for em'

They would start in Rubicon with karma 10, but I have no idea how would they get out of there yet. When they die, they would lose a karma level and they wouldn't be able to get it back after hibernating, they could only be restored by encountering echoes. If they have 5 karmas left, they would lose their fire ability, but if they lose all karma levels they would become an echo. (I need to make a new design for their echo version cuz I found out echo Saint's design is not lore accurate)

So basically, reverse Saint

Slugcat concept: The Pyromaniac (MAJOR SAINT SPOILERS)

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If Saint can ascend creatures because of their attachment, why couldn't they break out of the cycle with the attachment to freedom?

I've thought about renaming them tho, I don't know how well it fits their backstory

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu [Track 3]

Original title: 眠りの底へ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 2 Sakamaki Shuu

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke

Translator’s note: Seems like karma came back to bite Shuu in the ass because after calling the MC ‘a bother’ for two tracks straight, he now begins to realize just how important she actually is to him. They do say that you don’t notice how much you love someone, until you’ve already lost them and wellー I suppose that’s the concept Rejet went with this time. 

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Into a Deep Slumber

“ーー Oi! ...Oi, I’m talking to you!”

*Rustle*

“What are you doing...? This is the living room, you know? If you’re going to start sleeping here, then I’m pretty sure you’re in no position to judge me for doing the same.”

You don’t respond.

“Are you even listening? You didn’t just doze off, but were actually asleep?”

You nod.

“Hmー I mean, it doesn’t really matter but could you please stop always being one step ahead of me? For some reason, whenever I set my sights on a napping spot, you’re already there. It’s honestly a bothーー ...? ...Aren’t you kind of weird today? ...You’ve always been an airhead, but even so, today you’re...”

You start nodding off again.

“Haah...!? Oi...! Wait! You’re not gonna fall asleep again, riーー”

Shuu’s voice grows distant before cutting off.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me. She actually fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. Has she always been the type to just nod off like that regardless of the time or place? ーー Or rather, I can’t lie down when she’s already here. ...If I just abandon her here like this, it’s highly likely either Ayato or Laito will try and abuse the situation. Hm...What an annoyance.”

Shuu picks you up.

*Rustle rustle*

“...Not waking up even after being lifted into the air, huh? Is she actually fast asleep? ...She seems strangely light. Has she always been this light? Oh well, whatever. It’d be troublesome if one of the other guys saw me doing this. From here...My room’s the closest, huh? Pwaah...Nnh...I’m already sleepy though...”

He walks off with you, bringing you to his room.

*SCENE SHIFT*

Shuu lays you down on the bed.

*Thud*

"Haah...I wonder how much she has to trouble me until she’s satisfied? This is exactly why I struggle dealing with her...I’m out of energy, completely exhausted.”

He plops down next to you.

*Rustle*

*TIMESKIP*

“Zz...Zz...Nnh...Hm?”

*Rustle*

“Oh...”

*Rustle*

“I must have dozed off as well...”

He looks over at you.

“Oi. Are you still snoozing? ...Pretty sure she’ll make a fuss again if I don’t wake her up in time for school. Haah... Oi.”

*Rustle*

“How long do you intend to sleep for? Don’t you think it’s about time you wake up?”

You don’t wake up at all.

“...Oi!”

*Rustle*

( No matter how many times I called out for her, or shook her shoulder, she wouldn’t wake up. Something was off. I could tell as much. )

“...What’s going on? ...I guess my best bet would be...Consulting with Reiji, I guess?”

Shuu leaves the room.

( After witnessing how she would fail to react to anything, Reiji came up with a certain hypothesis. While it was obviously odd for her not to wake up, the thing which bothered him the most was her weakened physical health. This had extended to her heartbeat as well, with her heart apparently having grown weaker. In other words, he assumed that she had fallen into a deep slumber, either to protect her heart from giving in, or as a way to fight back against her own detoriating health. 

I couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip. I failed to grasp how such a ridiculous situation would suddenly occur. However, even if I didn’t understand it, I couldn’t deny that the same woman who usually wouldn’t give me a break, was now there laying completely unmoving in front of my eyes. )

*TIMESKIP*

Shuu enters your room.

*Thud*

“...It’s almost as if she has entered hibernation. If you fell asleep to keep yourself alive and preserve energy, then I must say that was quite the clever idea coming from you.”

( However, protecting her own heart came at a price. As long as she remained asleep like this, it would never heal. Without being given something to replenish her body, she was headed straight to the grave. ...On top of that, her heart is special. Giving her the same treatment as a regular human would be meaningless. If there was something which could help her, it has to be... )

“Haah...I didn’t think I’d ever have to pierce through my own skin.”

He bites himself.

“Ughーー!!”

*Drip drip*

“Hah...Did I trust them in too deep? I’m always just biting as I please after all, so I don’t know how to hold myself back. ...Oh well, you better don’t spit it back out even if it tastes bad.”

Shuu gives you his blood mouth-to-mouth.

*Smooch*

“You will drink my blood...The usual roles are reversed, huh? Well, it’s not like we’ll notice change right away, huh? For one, I’m still doubtful whether simply feeding you my blood will have any effect.”

*Rustle*

“...Reiji must have taken notice that something was wrong with you. He pointed out your pale complexion before, didn’t he? ...I didn’t realize at all. Even though I should be the one who spent the most time with you. I suppose it would be more correct to say that I didn’t make any effort to notice. When you told me you were feeling under the weather at the infirmary, I brushed it off as if it was nothing as well. And this...is the result of that. ...Hah, I really am a failure of a heir in every single way, huh? 

ーー It’s quiet. I’m not really in the mood to go to school, so guess I’ll get some sleep as well. It’s not like she’ll complain about me lying down next to her now.”

He joins you in bed. 

“Hm...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ugh...Tsk...”

*Rustle*

“Ugh...Guess I can’t sleep when I know there’s nobody who will come and wake me up.”

Shuu gets up from the bed and leaves the room.

( From that day onwards, I would visit her every day to donate my own blood. However, even after several days or weeks had passed, nothing changed aside from the increasing number of bite marks on my own hands and arms. She still continues to sleep to this day. Without looking at my face, or reacting to my voice, just quietly slumberingーー )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー