#which is because it's recent i must have seen other new movies

[beesarthur]

4, 14 & 24 ?

4. Movie of the year?

It feels bonkers to name a movie that's part of a tv show from 1998, but I didn't watch that many movies this year, and The X-Files: Fight the Future was a ~ w i l d ~ two hours; it was confusing, it was ridiculous, it almost but didn't quite make sense in connection with the episodes that came before and after it, and Mulder and Scully trolled each other and they loved each other

14. Favorite book you read this year?

Probably Girl, Woman, Other!

24. Did you keep any New Year's Resolutions?

It wasn't a formal New Year's Resolution, and I think that's why it worked, but sort of! Leading up to New Year's, my family passed around something that was probably norovirus, and while I somehow managed to not get sick, I spent a lot of time cleaning and doing laundry. While my sister was recovering, we joked that "being passionate about laundry and vacuuming" was in for 2024, and I really was a lot more consistent with such chores this year.

end of year asks

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

So I've been rewatching the Twilight movies and certain scenes from them recently, and there's something that caught my eye while going through the post-battle scene in Eclipse.

We have Jane and the others show up, being like "blah blah blah, you guys did pretty well against all these newborns, how curious, blah blah" before Jane notices that one of the newborns is still alive, pointing out Bree.

Now, here's where it gets interesting for me. Because Jasper immediately moves and stands next to her protectively.

And yeah, sure, he's the newborn expert, he's in charge of all-things newborn vampires, so in that sense alone it makes sense for him to associate himself with her in that way, but I think it's a lot more than that; namely something that is always mentioned in passing in the movies, but never really pointed out as something significant (unlike Edward's telepathy and Alice's precognition, which are always mentioned first in terms of desirable acquisitions of power). I of course speak of his pathokinesis.

Bree is scared. At this point she has realized that she's a vampire and what that means for her life, but she has no idea if she will come out of this stand-off alive, so naturally, she is nervous.

And thanks to his pathokinesis, of course Jasper can feel that. So I think he's standing with her, almost protectively, not just because he's in charge of her, but because he can feel her fear and tries to comfort her with his presence (she with her vampire sight can of course see that his skin is decked out in scars, so that intimidating display alone probably tells her him being on her side is a good thing).

And then we come to Jane starting to torture Bree, and me having another observation.

When she falls to the ground and is screaming in agony, we can assume that Jasper can feel that, too (not the pain itself, but the mental anguish connected to it). And look how startled he seems when he sees her fall and looks from Bree to Jane.

This moment here makes me think that this is probably the first time he's ever seen Jane's power in person. Of course he knew about her, knew what her powers are. Alice probably filled him in in detail about the events in Volterra from New Moon, and I assume Carlisle has shared many stories over the years, too.

But hearing about something and actually seeing it first-hand are two very different things.

For someone like him, who can feel what other people are feeling, from their happiest moments to their most devastating mental pain, watching Jane not only use her powers, but relish in their effect without a second thought since she can't feel the pain she's causing, must be absolutely nauseating, for lack of a better word.

Jasper's experienced several lifetimes of anguish by proximity and is trying his best to make others feel better, while Jane deals blow after blow with her powers without any consequence. It must feel wrong and unfair to him.

Anyway, back to the point.

This is the face of a man who has fully realized what the antagonistic force is capable of, and he'll be sure to be prepared, next time they cross paths.

And lastly, something sad.

He turns his back on Bree, probably because he can't deal with watching her die on top of feeling her fear and pain. Neither he nor the other Cullens can stop Bree's death from happening without declaring war on the Volturi in the process (because I'm certain that's how Jane and the others would see their push-back).

So all he can do is turn away, and maybe make an effort to lessen her pain (it doesn't look like he did, but I think it would make sense if he used his powers to make death less frightening for Bree).

Anyway, rest in peace, Bree, you would have made a wonderful addition to the Cullen family. ♥

[lokideservesahug]

Love in 3D

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Pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader. Part of this Mall AU collab with @ham1lton

☆ -idiots in love  | fluff | comedy | smau + written ☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Warnings: A teensy bit suggestive at a few points, Logan and reader have crushes on each other but are super oblivious, mention to Oscar + his love intrest in the series (it's like a multiverse!)

Notes: I took liberties with what films were showing so it doesn't reflect their actual release date or showing time irl. A special thanks to @ham1lton for allowing me to be apart of this, brainstorming with me and beta-ing my work (you're amazing and ily <33 :D).

Summary:When you go to the cinema to watch a film that a friend of yours suggested, the last thing you expected to do was to develop a crush on a certain American worker (or be handed an excuse to come back). Or alternatively, when you keep on going back to the cinema, it's because you're just a massive cinephile...right?

Slight prelude here

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Now when a friend told you to visit the cinema because you just "had to see this new film, it's so...you!" you didn't think much of it. You had avoided looking at reviews for it online and excused the visit as a means to treat yourself, especially with how hard you've been working recently. After taking a short journey into the centre of town, you traverse to the movie theatre. You walk through the towering glass doors and are suddenly enveloped by the comforting atmosphere. The low key, warm lighting bouncing off of the harsh crimson furniture in all directions makes you feel almost at home when paired with the low mumble of families waiting to see films and discussing ones they'd just viewed.

The atmosphere almost makes you feel drowsy so unsurprisingly, you wholeheartedly believe you are living a dream when you walk up to the counter and the most gorgeous man ever stands before you. His green eyes meet yours in a friendly encounter and you give him a quick one over. Your eyes scan from the bottom of his worn out, white trainers to his stained, blue t-shirt (was that butter splotched in the middle?) and even to his long blonde/brownish hair - that clearly hadn't been cut in a while as it swoops over his face, making him look like a prince-.

Somehow, your brain manages to coherently string together a thought that isn't focused on the man in front of you as you ask for "One ticket to see ‘Cats’ please." Yet as soon as the words leave your lips, you're back to daydreaming about the innocent cinema worker behind the counter. You've never seen him before because you're sure you'd have noticed. But then again, you were in the middle of town so of course you don't know everyone. How foolish. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice him softly asking you a question.

Your eyes widen in horror for a moment. Oh no. What did he say? Eager to only please him, you tilt your head and utter out a timid "Yes?" which sounds as confused as you feel. You glance down at his nametag as a means to hide your confusion and are met by the sight of a neat, embossed ‘Logan' in the centre. However, the answer must have been right because the man’s, Logan you suppose, face splits out into a toothy grin and he mutters a few positive sounding adjectives in response.

“Great. I'll get one ready for you now." He drops to a squat and rummages behind the counter as you furrow your brows. Did you just sign up for something? He pops his head back up from below the counter and you give him a small smile (that feels really quite uncertain with your fate. "Can I get a name for the card, please?" You respond with your name and his soft smile and compliment make your cheeks feel warm. He hands the card to you and you feel your breath catch in your throat at the brief contact of his warm fingers on yours.

"Have a great day and enjoy the film." You turn to mush at his sweet smile and begin to long to see only that sight until your dying day. You utter out a small "You too." and at that moment, you finally regain consciousness and want the ground to suck you up. Logan laughs melodically at your slip up which makes you smile at his laughter. "So sorry. I didn't mean that... I was just distracted!" This causes his laughter to die down as he squints his eyes and one side of his mouth curls up as if he was beginning to smirk. You shoot him a small smile and swiftly pivot and speed for an exit this time with a small "Have a nice day. Thank you."

As you finally reach your seat, you look down at the ticket and card he gave you. Huh? The tickets are much cheaper than you expected. Maybe you'd have to come back again sooner (and you suppose the cute workers aren't any deterrent). You place the ticket on the arm rest and your attention is drawn straight to the card he also placed in your hand. This must be what you unknowingly agreed to. You shake your head, cursing (and praising) your mindless state earlier as you look at the month long cinema pass lying in your hands. Well maybe you would have an excuse to come back soon after all.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logan stares at the man opposite him, gently tapping on the counter. The American had never acutely noticed just how non-existent his love life truly is. Well, until he met you, now he finds that every moment when you weren't blessing his shifts to be dull and in his books, futile.

Oscar's words cut through his thoughts. "Well, I think you can try and make it more obvious? I've heard some people give discounts to the customers they really like. Maybe you can try doing that?" 

Logan looks down and blushes. "I uh... I've already given her a staff discount." Oscar lets out a slow exhale. "Damn... you never-" "Yeah I know." Logan has only just accepted that he has feelings for the Y/H/C girl, let alone broken work policy... Himself a few weeks ago would have gone into cardiac arrest at just the thought.

"Damn, you must be whipped." Oscar's laugh at the end makes Logan break into his own set of laughter. “Well, no…” Oscar reaches for a roll from the floor to ceiling cupboard and pivots with a ‘Hearty Italian’ roll in his hand whilst simultaneously raising an eyebrow at the blonde man, making Logan laugh in resignation. “Yeah, something like that." The Aussie grins at his friend's newfound carefree nature. It has been a long time since Oscar has seen Logan this happy and the two of them have known each other a very long time. Oscar slices the sub as Logan begins his soliloquy.

“But you don't get it, Osc. She’s just… I’ve never seen such a gorgeous woman before . I mean the other day I told her a joke and she actually laughed.” Oscar smiles and mutters “no way” in the same manner in which you’d speak to a child. “And when she laughed I swear it was a taste of what heaven is like!” Oscar hums in acknowledgment as he mindlessly flicks a handful of ham slices onto the bread. “And last week, she bought some popcorn, which I couldn't charge her for of course, but she had both caramel and butter together. I’ve never met anyone else that does that!” Logan releases a dreamy sigh as Oscar opens the large toaster door and slides the roll in.”She’s perfect Osc. I think we were made to be together.” 

"Well," the Aussie begins whilst turning round and getting the sandwich from the toaster. "I say if she comes back then you shoot your shot. I mean who was it that was complaining the other week about their 'truly abysmal love life' ?" Logan looks down and chuckles. "Yeah man I mean it still is that bad but..." Oscar smiles in acknowledgement, he has his own struggling love life and completely understands Logan's dilemma.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sigh as you fall back on the sofa. “So let me get this straight. You decided that the best course of action was to just go to his work several several times a week.” You turn and squint your eyes at your best friend's words. “Well no but…” She rolls her eyes at you. “But what Y/N/N? Because it sounds an awful lot like you're just trying to deny your feelings for him but still seeking out his company if it's for a few moments.”

You stay silent as you ponder her words. “I'm just worried about you getting hurt from this. I mean he's probably not even that cute.” You shake your head at her. “Oh no, he really is.” She tilts her head with a questioning look. “It's just… He's so sweet. He always helps the elderly customers and is such a  gentleman. Oh and don't get me started on how good he looks. I mean his eyes are such a gorgeous, enigmatic mix. And Oh those arms. You should see them when they fle-” 

“Oookay. I get it Juliet.” You sigh in longing at just the thought of Logan. “We will put a pin in that for later because there is a lot to unpack there.” You give her a tight-lipped,  thankful grin. “So, moving on, did you hear what happened to Melanie last week?” You try to push the thought of your favourite American to the back of your mind as you focus on the latest gossip of your friend. Besides, lack of boy talk should do you some good for once.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Oscar slides the signature sub across the counter. "Thanks, mate." Logan smiles and unwraps the warm sandwich and takes a bite. Logan groans at the familiar taste. "Damn it's not that wonderful mate." Logan shakes his head at Oscar's words. And looks around quickly, piquing Oscar's interest. The older of the two leans forward and speaks in a hushed whisper. "I came in last week and that new employee made my sandwich...." Logan pulls a face that can only be described as depicting pure, unadulterated disgust. Oscar only laughs in response. "It's not funny mate, I didn't know a sandwich could taste that horrible and I have the simplest thing ever!" Oscar shakes his head and sports a distasteful expression at just the thought of his co-worker. But doesnt make any effort to hide the expression as he begins to speak. "Yeah well, at least you have a good meal now." Logan tilts his head "Yeah I guess so." He glances at the clock and curses. "I'm going to be late! Thanks Osc, catch you later." Logan scrambles out of the food court towards the escalator and Oscar is left in historical laughter at his best friend's frenzied, pining state.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

When Saturday roles around, you decide that unsurprisingly, you are going to visit the mall you have found yourself frequenting recently. Surprisingly though, you walk through the doors with good, honest intentions today. You have a film in mind that you are desperate to see and you take a small amount of pride in the fact that you are visiting for the cinema’s true purpose rather than going just to ogle the cute American behind the counter. Over the past few weeks, you have seen a multitude of reruns of old, black and white films, only shown a handful of times all the way to new kids films just as an excuse to visit your favourite worker (not that you'd ever admit that of course).

However, as you approach the counter, eyes scanning all of the workers' space, you can’t seem to find Logan. Instead, you are met by the sight of a slightly older, quite attractive, blonde man (that is unsurprisingly very much taken as you gather from the shiny gold band on his weathered hand). As if he notices your wandering eyes, he asks “Anything wrong love?” Your eyes snap to meet his. “Sorry?” He gives you a friendly smile, “You just look quite distracted, that’s all.” You shake your head. “Sorry I just…” the words seem embarrassing now that you think of them. Oh yeah, sorry sir I only visit because I’ve got a massive crush on one of the workers here and I’m just really upset that you aren't him. 

You pull yourself out of your thoughts and address the man - a quick glance down at his name badge informs you that he is Jenson, a senior manager at the cinema. You nearly grin at the sweet badges pinned to his landward, hanging next to the badge; a multitude of film quote badges and oddly a few bakery item pins? How random. You focus your attention back on the man. “Can I have one ticket to go and see ‘Challengers’ please?” Jenson nods and types on the digital keypad in front of him. You reach down and rummage around in your bag to try and find the cinema card (and your payment card of course). When your fingers find the edge of the cards, you pull them out and hold the cards stationary in the air, level with the worker’s screen. “I have this cinema card that you can scan.” Jenson’s eyes widen, he gives you a quick look over before his mouth splits into a toothy grin. “Ah!” is all he says before he gently takes the cards and swipes them one after another in the card slot. 

His expression makes you feel as if you’ve been left out of something important but you don’t have much time to linger on the thought before Jenson is walking away from where he stood with a small promise that he’ll return shortly. You rock backwards on the balls of your feet in suspense, maybe the card didn’t work? You look around, a small part of you is hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of your newfound crush but to no avail. The mechanical sound of tickets being printed breaks you from your scanning of the lobby. Jenson places the tickets and the two cards back in your hand. Yet surprisingly, he also slides a large bag of popcorn in your direction. You give him a questioning glance. Was this yet another thing you’d managed to agree to buy without realising? Jenson only gives you another of those wide smiles before answering “He talks about you a lot. And you're the only one to have bought one of these cards. Well, unless you’re Bertie but you certainly don’t look 80 years old.” 

His words make you blush and huff out a small laugh. You pocket your cards, grab the bag of popcorn and walk away muttering a small thanks. You find your seat, mind whirring over what is left in front of you. On your left armrest is a bag of caramel and butter popcorn, paired with the memory of Jenson’s words. “He spoke about you” Your cheeks warm at the thought of Logan possibly reciprocating your feelings. And then you fully settle into your seat, prepared to finally focus on the screen, you can’t help but notice that the price on the ticket is higher than usual… How odd…

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Meanwhile, Logan's phone:

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logansargeant

Logansargeant: A nice weekend off for once

Liked by Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 46 others

View all 12 comments

Oscarpiatri: mate you ditched me for a golf weekend?

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I just needed to get my thoughts together

↳Osarpiastri: ooh. Is this about **********

↳Logansargeant: Shush mate, you can make it less obvious.

↳Alexalbon: Oooh who or what is  **********?!?🤨

↳Oscarpiastri: 🤐 i’m afraid i’m sworn to secrecy

↳Alexalbon: Booo. You’re no fun

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

For the entirety of the day, Logan has been staring at the door each time it opens. At every worship of the automatic doors on the carpet, his head whips up, hoping to find you there, only to be met with a gaggle of 40 year old women or a party of school children. Logan isn't even afraid to admit the reason behind his peculiar behaviour. He has missed his “staring at Y/N time” as Oscar has so fondly nicknamed it.

After the text he received from Jenson, he can't help but feel a buzz of hope linger in his stomach. He's seen you many times before but the fact that you're coming even when he's not here and possibly looking for him (Jenson's words, not his)? Just the thought makes Logan grin. He already had today planned out in his head. You'd walk through those doors with your regular smile and come up to the counter. You’d then ask to see another random film that was showing at a later point today. He’d flash you a smile and when you’d go to pay, he’d stop you and insist that it was his duty to pay for a woman, especially on the first date. You’d be left in wordless awe and would beg him to let you repay him to which he’d only respond by swooping you into an eager ki-. His daydream is interrupted by soft coughing.

His head whips up only to be met with the familiar shade of your eyes which had plagued his dreams for many nights. You give him a soft smile and all of Logan’s previous “plan” exits his mind as he just gets lost in your eyes. He smiles back at you and lets out a breathy “Hi…” Your grin widens. “Hi Logan, how are you today?” Gosh even you just saying his name makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. He readily answers your question and the two of you fall into eager small talk. 

It almost hurts you to have to pull out of the conversation but you find yourself needing a distraction from the cute Yank on the other side of the counter. “So do you have any new film recommendations today?” Logan lets out a contemplative hum. “None that you haven't already seen.” You visibly deflate at his words. In the past, you have always been very strategic with when you visit and planned trips when there were new films showing.

However today you didn't look as if you were too wrapped up with just the thought of seeing Logan again. “Oh…” You let out an awkward laugh. “Well I guess you've turned me into a cinephile then.” You inwardly slap yourself at your words. Genius. You've all but outed your crush for him, you might as well get on one knee and start spouting sonnets. Logan's cheeks warm and he gains composure before he responds. “Is there, uh, anything else you can do near here? Go to the record store? He'll, my boss, know a killer bakery that he used to work at if you ever want any recommendations!” You almost feel like spilling your guts to Logan and revealing the true intention of your visits. “Well… In all honesty I've never really explored the rest of the mall, I've mainly stuck to the cinema.”

Logan perks up at your words. This could be his chance. He rubs his shiny palms on his trousers and shakily responds. “Well… I could show you around later if you'd like that?” 

You fight the urge to start grinning like a lovesick fool. “I think I'd really quite like that.” Logan's mouth turns into an uncontrollable toothy grin as he laughs in surprise. “Great. Yeah. Amazing. I can't wait!” You giggle at his cute rambling. “What time do you get off?”

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The two of you sit in content silence. “This was great.” You eagerly nod at the man sitting opposite you as you take another scoop of your plain froyo. “It was truly amazing. Thank you and I hope we can do it again.” He smiles softly at you (despite how often he's done it throughout the evening, you still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach). He replies softly. “I'd love that.” He waves to one of the supervisors (who is involved in a conversation with clearly too much sexual tension with a curly haired man, clearly another supervisor if the badge was anything to look at). She catches Logan's eyeline and nods. After the two of you have paid (Logan insisted that it was his duty to pay) and left the restaurant, you walk around arm in arm with the man with a new found confidence. 

“So where to next time? Is it a bit too on the nose to suggest a movie date next time?” Logan laughs breathily as he pulls you into his side. “Sweetheart, I think you've seen enough films to last you a lifetime.” 

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Jenson watches as his favourite worker leans over the counter with a wide grin on his face. He thinks back to a similar time when him and his partner were also like that. As you quickly lean in to peck Logan's nose, the older man can't help but feel a sense of pride for the man almost like his son and a sense of joy for your blossoming relationship; which very clearly is the best thing for the both of you. 

Logan glances up at the clock every few minutes. His eagerness to clock off makes you giggle. “What's got you so tense?” His face softens. “Sorry. I just really want to take my gorgeous girlfriend to this new shop that's just opened up.” You fight the urge to blush and instead just tilt your head playfully. “Really? What does she look like, maybe I've seen her before.” You glance around and consequently don't notice Logan scrambling over the counter and engulfing you in a large embrace. “Hmmm… I think I've found her.” Your protests get lost in the laughter as the two of you each off, Logan's shift finally at its end.

Jenson watches the two of you exit the building, arm in arm with lovestruck expressions on your faces. Gosh, you were adorable. And gosh he was going to have to do Logan's job and refill the slushy machine…for the third time this week. 

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: Guys, I have to finally come out and admit it, this is the “view” I went to the cinema for.

Liked by: Logansargeant, Yourbestfriend, Oscarpiatri and 104 others

View all 18 comments:

Yourbestfriend: 😐Simp😐 Also Logan I am out for your blood

↳Logansargeant: What. Why!?!

↳Yourbestfriend: You took my wife from me😫

↳Logansargeant: My wife now (soon)🙂

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, Ilysm❤❤

Logansargeant: Who is that handsome man?

↳Yourusername: He has a gf, sorry :/

↳Logansargeant: Is his girlfriend single because she is gorgeous?😍😍😍

↳Yourusername: Depends on who's asking🤨

Alexalbon: Awww! So cute to see you together after Logan spent weekends raving about you

↳Logansargeant: Nuh uh

↳Oscarpiastri: fym nuh uh?

↳Yourusername: Aww Lo. You raved about me?

↳Logansargeant: Of course baby how could I not💙

↳Yourusername: You're adorable

↳Oscarpiastri: 😐🤮

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logansargeant

Logansargeant: Finally made me change my ways (also if you see this and you're Jenson then we aren't breaking any cinema policies and see you on Monday)!!!

Liked by yourusername, Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 107 others

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Yourusername: Oh my gosh that photo of us outside the cinema turned out so cute❤❤

↳Logansargeant: Only because you're in it💙

↳Yourusername: Charmer…

↳Logansargeant: What can I say? It's the only thing to do when you have such a gorgeous girlfriend😉

↳Yourusername: Lo stop. I'm actually giggling and blushing rn wtf

Oscarpiatri: is this what you do on company time now

↳Logansargeant: I'm afraid so Osc

↳Oscarpiastri: does this mean you'll put a staff discount on my tickets now, finally

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I don't think I'm allowed

↳Oscarpiastri: oh but your gf has been getting it since before you even started dating!?!?!

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, really? That's so sweet (and explains the cheap tickets now)

↳Logansargeant: What can I say babe? I've been whipped from the start

Jensonbutton: I suppose I can Ignore the fact that you had your phone out in the cinema room just this once.

↳Logansargeant: And this is why you ate my favourite boss!

↳Jensonbutton: You only have one boss…

↳Logansargeant: So you truly are the best!

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[magnagaruzenmon]

Stay Alive

The first part of heavy metal, and woo this is a doozy to start on…fuck you dino. Also happy new years. I hope you've been having fun with Daigo's holiday specials, because this is the last one for now

I just wanna thank @coldfanbou and @lustspren for writing cool stuff. No smut yet needed to world build hope that’s okay.

“Ah, come on, Daigo, it’ll be fun! Picture this: a three-day music festival entirely dedicated to girl groups. Some of your favorites—Dreamcatcher, Twice, Eunbi, and so many more! How could you say no to that?”

Jonas’s enthusiasm was infectious, but I wasn’t in the mood. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The chaos from recent riots at music festivals played on a loop in my mind—overcrowding, fights breaking out, people getting hurt. I’d seen it up close before, and I wasn’t eager to put myself in the middle of it again.

“I don’t know…” I hesitated, glancing at the stack of bills on my counter that never seemed to shrink. “It’s just—with all the violence lately, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jonas let out an exaggerated sigh on the other end of the line. “Daigo, you’re killing me here. Look, I need someone I can trust for this gig. You’ve got experience, you’re good under pressure, and—let’s be real—you’re the biggest fangirl I know when it comes to these groups.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Fangirl? That’s rich coming from the guy who cried when LOONA disbanded.”

“That was different, and you know it!” Jonas shot back, feigning indignation. “Tell you what, though. You help me out this one time, and I’ll sweeten the deal: I’ll get you backstage access for your top three groups. You can say hi, do the whole meet-and-greet thing, and—” he paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll pay you double time.”

“Double time and a meet-and-greet?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You must be desperate.”

“Desperate doesn’t even cover it,” Jonas admitted. “But I know you, Daigo. You’ll do it. You just need a little incentive.”

I leaned forward, considering his offer. The idea of meeting Dreamcatcher, Twice, and Eunbi backstage was tempting. Hell, it was more than tempting—it was a dream come true. But I wasn’t about to let him off easy.

“Okay,” I said, dragging the word out. “I’ll do it. But on one condition: you pay me in advance for the regular eight-hour shifts. When overtime inevitably hits—and we both know it will—you can pay me after.”

I expected him to balk, to try to negotiate or talk me down. Instead, Jonas practically shouted into the phone. “Fine! Deal!”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re way too excited about this. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Only if you don’t bring something for your bias to sign!” Jonas teased, and before I could respond, he added, “I’ll send you the details. And, Daigo? Thanks, man. I owe you big time.”

As I hung up, I stared at my phone, torn between dread and anticipation. The job might be chaos, sure, but the thought of meeting my idols backstage was enough to nudge me into action. Maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so bad.

The first two days of the festival passed in a blur. I worked with Lightsum alongside a guy named Dinozen, a chill dude with a sharp sense of humor, and covered the super-secret IZ*ONE reunion stage with someone named Dexter, a no-nonsense guy who seemed to have everything under control. Unsurprisingly, the girls were all the sweetest. Chowon, Sakura, and Eunbi even signed my photocards, which was an experience I’d never forget.

Hyewon, though, surprised me. She noticed my Night of the Living Dead phone case while I was setting up security near the backstage area.

“Oh my God, is that Romero’s Night of the Living Dead?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as she leaned in closer to get a better look.

“Yeah,” I said, holding up the phone so she could see it better. “You’re a fan?”

“Are you kidding? I love zombie movies. Do you like Train to Busan?”

“Of course! A classic,” I replied, and we spent a few minutes geeking out about the genre before she got whisked away for rehearsals.

The last day of the festival was intense, to say the least. The lineup was packed: IVE, LE SSERAFIM, QWER, GFRIEND (yes, Eunha and Lil Uzi Vert were there), KISS OF LIFE, Dreamcatcher, and finally, Twice.

For the first two stages, Sakura, Chaewon, Yujin, and Wonyoung spotted me lingering around during the early morning soundchecks.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Wonyoung called out, grinning mischievously as she approached with the others in tow.

“Barely,” I admitted, stifling a yawn.

“You’re here earlier than us! Are you secretly a sasaeng?” Sakura teased, elbowing me lightly as the others burst into laughter.

“Yeah, what’s your bias list?” Chaewon added with mock suspicion, crossing her arms and squinting at me.

“Okay, first of all,” I said, holding up a finger, “I’m not a sasaeng. Second, I’m here working. You know, security?”

“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say,” Yujin quipped.

“Don’t worry, oppa, we’ll keep your secret,” Wonyoung said, winking.

“Oppa?!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes at their antics. “You’re all impossible.”

Truth be told, I didn’t mind. Their teasing broke the ice, and by the end of their set, they were thanking me profusely for keeping everything running smoothly.

Later, I found myself working security for GFRIEND. Eunha caught me lingering backstage and decided to strike up a conversation.

“You’re awfully quiet for a security guy,” she said, tilting her head. “Do we intimidate you?”

“Not at all,” I said with a smirk. “I’m just professional. But since we’re chatting—big fan, by the way.”

Eunha grinned, leaning in slightly. “Oh? Do you have a favorite song?”

“‘Time for the Moon Night.’ No contest.”

“Good choice,” she said, clearly pleased. “You’ve got good taste. But…” She paused, her expression turning playful. “What’s your bias list for Twice?”

“You’re not getting that out of me,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, come on!” she said, punching my arm lightly before getting called away for rehearsal.

QWER was an entirely different vibe. From the moment they showed up, they were absolute chaos gremlins. Magenta spotted my Ultraman keychain dangling from my belt and let out a gasp loud enough to make heads turn.

“Is that Ultraman?!” she exclaimed, running over.

“Yeah. You a fan?”

“Am I a fan?!” she said, practically bouncing on her heels. “Ultraman Tiga is my favorite! What about you?”

We ended up on a massive tangent about tokusatsu, until Hina chimed in about Final Fantasy when I mentioned I love girls who can fight like Tifa from FFVII. “Tifa’s the best, hands down,” she said, crossing her arms as if daring anyone to argue.

“Agreed,” I said, nodding. “What’s your go-to build for her?”

“Oh, don’t get her started,” Chodan cut in, laughing. “But seriously, what’s your take on League of Legends?” After hearing me say someone was inting in the previous conversation.

That led to another rabbit hole of nerd talk, with Chodan grilling me about champs and strategies while Magenta playfully teased her for his “tryhard vibes.”

After their performance, Magenta pulled me aside. “Hey, if you want a job after this, come to Korea,” she said, a surprising seriousness in her tone. “I’m sure we can find a spot for you.”

I rolled my eyes, thinking it was just more teasing. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“No, really,” she said, locking eyes with me. “Think about it. You’d fit in.”

Her sincerity caught me off guard, but before I could respond, she was already running off to join the others.

Sure! Here’s an expanded version of the scene with more dialogue and detail:

Dreamcatcher’s set was a whirlwind. They came in, stole the show with their energy and charisma, and left just as quickly. It was clear they were pros, used to the hectic schedule of being on tour. I barely had a chance to speak with them, but as I was walking backstage, Yoohyeon caught sight of my shirt peeking out from under my security uniform.

“Wait—is that a Kaiju No. 8 shirt?” she asked, pointing excitedly.

I froze, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Big fan of the series.”

“Same here!” Yoohyeon said, her eyes lighting up. “Dami got me into it. Isn’t Kafka’s transformation just the coolest?”

Dami, standing nearby, smirked. “Yoohyeon keeps trying to get everyone in the group to read it.”

“It’s worth it!” Siyeon chimed in, adjusting her jacket. “But, seriously, where’d you get that shirt? I’ve been looking for merch everywhere.”

I laughed nervously. “Online. Limited drop, though, so it might be hard to find now.”

“Lucky,” Dami said, shaking her head. “Anyway, we’d better go. Tour schedule’s tight.”

They waved as they hurried out, leaving me feeling both starstruck and a little bummed that I didn’t have more time to talk to them.

As Dreamcatcher’s bus pulled away, Twice was arriving. Their energy was palpable even before they stepped out, fans screaming from behind the barricades as they made their way inside. I was checking the perimeter when I heard a familiar voice.

“You were at our LA concert a few years ago.”

I turned to see Dahyun, smiling warmly as she approached. For a second, I was stunned.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “How did you remember that?”

Dahyun tilted her head, still smiling. “We don’t have many fans that look like…you, so I always try to remember their faces. Plus, you brought that light-up ring instead of our Candybong.”

I laughed, embarrassed but also flattered. “Yeah, the Candybong was sold out, so I improvised.”

“Well, it worked! We all thought it was cool.”

Before I could say anything else, the ground beneath us seemed to shift. setting everyone on edge.

“What was that?” someone whispered behind me.

And then the screams began.

From the crowd near the main stage, people started to thrash and convulse, their movements jerky and unnatural. Others began growling, their voices guttural and animalistic. The sight was surreal—like something out of a horror movie.

“Everyone, move!” I yelled, springing into action.

I turned to Dahyun and the rest of Twice. “Get to the evacuation buses. Now!”

They didn’t argue, following my lead as I herded them and the remaining girl groups backstage toward the buses. The screams and chaos grew louder as the infected began attacking others in the crowd, tearing into them with horrifying ferocity.

“Keep moving!” I shouted, adrenaline surging as I kept the idols together, forming a protective barrier between them and the chaos.

One by one, the groups boarded the buses. I stayed behind to make sure everyone was accounted for, scanning the area for any stragglers.

“Daigo, get on!” someone shouted from inside the last bus.

As I turned to board, a hand grabbed me, yanking me backward with incredible strength. The bus door shut just as I lost my footing.

The man who had grabbed me was no longer human. His eyes were bloodshot, black veins bulging across his face and neck like spiderwebs. He growled, the sound primal and terrifying, before lunging at me.

I struggled against him, barely managing to shove him off, but not before his teeth sank into my arm. Pain shot through me as I kicked him away, slamming a nearby door into his face before scrambling to my car.

Blood was dripping from my arm as I started the engine, my hands shaking. My phone buzzed with an emergency alert:

“EMERGENCY ALERT: FERAL RAGE VIRUS OUTBREAK IN LOS ANGELES. AVOID INFECTED INDIVIDUALS. IF BITTEN, SELF-ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY.”

A wave of dread washed over me as the words sank in. A zombie apocalypse—and I’d been bitten.

By the time I got home, I was running on autopilot. I found a note from my family on the kitchen counter:

“We evacuated. Stay safe. We love you.”

I smiled faintly, relieved that they had made it out, even as the reality of my situation settled in. I sat down on the couch, clutching my arm as I waited—waited for the inevitable.

But as the hours passed, nothing happened. No fever, no loss of control, no primal urge to attack. Just silence.

Something was wrong—or maybe something was right. Whatever it was, I wasn’t turning. At least, not yet. 28 weeks later

California had been decimated by the undead in a matter of days. The infection spread faster than anyone could have predicted, turning the Golden State into a graveyard of abandoned cities and roaming hordes of the infected. Military barricades crumbled, evacuation plans failed, and those who were lucky got out while they could. Planes were packed with desperate refugees, cars clogged the highways leading east, and boats left the coastlines overcrowded with those willing to risk open waters.

For me, leaving wasn’t an option.

I didn’t have the luxury of escape, not because I couldn’t find a way out, but because of the bite on my arm. By the time the infection reached its peak, there were no confirmed cases of immunity. A bite was a death sentence—or worse, an eternity as one of the infected. The thought of being trapped in that kind of existence kept me grounded, unwilling to risk spreading the infection to anyone else.

But something strange happened.

I didn’t turn.

Days turned into weeks, and then months. The black veins that had crawled up my arm after the attack faded away within hours, leaving only a faint scar where the infected’s teeth had punctured my skin. I waited for the fever to come, for the primal urges, for the hallucinations people had described before losing themselves. None of it happened.

In fact, the only time I got remotely sick was from a bad batch of shrimp I’d scavenged off an abandoned food truck near the Santa Monica pier.

At first, I thought maybe I was just a late bloomer, that the virus would eventually catch up to me and take over. I avoided people, avoided crowded safe zones, not wanting to risk spreading whatever was inside me. I spent most of my time moving quietly through the ruins of Los Angeles, scavenging supplies and avoiding the Zs as best I could.

The thing was, the Zs avoided me too.

It wasn’t immediate, but over time, I started noticing that they didn’t react to me the way they did to others. If I stayed still, they would stumble past as if I weren’t even there. If I walked into a horde, they would part like a school of fish around a predator.

It was unsettling at first, terrifying even, but I couldn’t deny the advantage it gave me. I became a ghost in the city, slipping through once-busy streets and long-abandoned suburbs. I didn’t need to hide anymore.

Whatever was inside me, whatever had stopped the virus from taking hold, had made me different.

And in a world where survival was everything, being different wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

At first, surviving felt like an achievement. I kept moving, kept scavenging, and avoided any unnecessary risks. But as the weeks bled into months, that sense of urgency faded, replaced by something else: boredom.

The excitement of sneaking through an abandoned city, the thrill of dodging Zs, even the satisfaction of finding a can of beans in the back of an overturned truck—it all started to feel routine. The days blurred together.

Wake up. Scavenge. Avoid Zs. Sleep.

For a while, I wandered aimlessly. I retraced old memories, revisiting places I’d once loved. The Santa Monica Pier, now eerily quiet except for the creak of its abandoned rides. Griffith Park, where the Hollywood sign still stood, a crumbling symbol of a bygone world. But eventually, even nostalgia wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness.

So I headed south.

San Diego seemed as good a place as any to settle. The Zs were thinner here, the population having fled or been wiped out in the first waves of the outbreak. The weather was mild, the ocean breeze cutting through the silence, and the naval base offered plenty of resources for the taking if I could get past the wreckage.

I found an old house in a quiet suburb, tucked away behind overgrown trees and hedges. It was small but sturdy, with thick walls and a decent vantage point from the second floor. The backyard had a rusted swing set, a reminder of the family that had once lived here.

Over time, I turned it into my safe haven.

The front door was reinforced with scrap metal I’d scavenged from a nearby junkyard. Windows were boarded up, and the second-floor balcony became my lookout point. I rigged up a crude rainwater collection system with a tarp and some old gutters and managed to get a small solar panel working, enough to power a single lightbulb and charge my radio.

I spent my days scavenging for supplies, fortifying the house, and exploring the surrounding neighborhoods. Grocery stores, gas stations, and even old military supply depots had been picked clean, but every once in a while, I’d find something useful—tools, canned food, medicine.

It was a life, I suppose.

But it was also mind-numbingly dull.

I tried to keep myself busy. I’d read old books I found in abandoned houses, patch holes in my clothes, and even attempted to learn how to cook properly with the limited ingredients I had. But there were only so many ways to make canned beans and rice interesting, and only so many times I could read Dune before the words started to blur together.

The worst part was the silence.

I used to think I hated noise—traffic jams, crowded malls, loud neighbors. But now, I would have given anything to hear another human voice, even just in passing. The only sounds were the distant groans of Zs, the wind rattling through broken windows, and the occasional creak of the house settling under its own weight.

Sometimes, I’d sit on the roof at night, staring at the stars and wondering if there was anyone else out there. Were there other people like me, survivors trying to rebuild? Or was I really the last one left, wandering through the ruins of the world?

Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: this life wasn’t sustainable.

I needed a purpose. Something to do, somewhere to go. Anything to break the monotony.

But until then, I kept moving through the same routine, day after day, wondering how long I could keep going before the boredom consumed me entirely.

Life alone in San Diego wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about mastering survival. The boredom had driven me to find ways to fill my days, and in doing so, I’d turned what was once a simple safe house into a fortress of modern conveniences.

The first breakthrough came with the solar panels. I’d stumbled across a half-abandoned solar farm about a mile from my safe house. It had been overrun with Zs, but they didn’t notice me as I worked my way through the facility, scavenging what I could. I started small, hauling back a single panel and an inverter to test if I could rig it up to charge my car battery. When that worked, I went back for more.

It took weeks of trial and error, piecing together wiring and jerry-rigging connections, but eventually, I had enough solar power to light my house, charge a working phone, and even run a small TV. The TV only played old DVDs I found in people’s basements or streaming content saved offline, but it was better than staring at the walls in silence.

Next, I tackled the water situation. Collecting rainwater was easy enough, but I wanted something more. I scavenged pipes, valves, and even an old water heater from a hardware store and figured out how to reroute collected water through the system. After several failed attempts—and one near-disaster involving a busted valve and a flooded basement—I managed to create a working setup. Hot water was a luxury I never thought I’d have again, but on cold nights, a hot shower made all the difference.

Siphoning gas was easier than I expected, though it came with risks. I learned to be fast and cautious, always checking my surroundings before sticking the hose into an abandoned car or truck. Over time, I built up a stockpile of fuel, which I stored in metal barrels I kept in the garage. The gas wasn’t just for the occasional use of my car but also for running a small generator when the solar panels didn’t get enough sunlight.

The freezers were my crowning achievement. I found a pair of them in a strip mall appliance store that had been untouched—probably because most people didn’t think about long-term food storage during the chaos of an apocalypse. Getting them back to my safe house was a nightmare involving a borrowed pickup truck, a makeshift ramp, and more muscle than I thought I had. But once I hooked them up to the solar grid, they became indispensable.

One freezer was stocked with frozen food I’d scavenged from long-abandoned grocery stores, still surprisingly edible thanks to the cold temperatures in the freezers I’d found them in. The other I filled with supplies I processed myself—vacuum-sealed meats, vegetables, and even some wild game I managed to hunt with a crossbow I’d picked up along the way.

Over time, I built up reserves that would have made a doomsday prepper jealous: shelves lined with canned goods, jars of pickled vegetables, packets of instant coffee, and more tools and spare parts than I’d probably ever need.

I even managed to get my hands on a working smartphone, though the lack of cell service meant it was little more than a glorified camera and notepad. Still, I found ways to make it useful, storing downloaded survival guides, maps of San Diego, and even the occasional audiobook.

It wasn’t the life I’d imagined for myself, but it was a life nonetheless.

Yet as I sat in my makeshift living room one evening, surrounded by the quiet hum of the solar-powered TV and the faint glow of LED lights, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. I had everything I needed to survive and more, but I still felt the gnawing emptiness of isolation.

I’d conquered boredom with ingenuity, but what I couldn’t conquer was the longing for human connection. For someone to talk to, to laugh with, to share all these little victories with.

The sound of glass crunching underfoot woke me, followed by the unmistakable creak of the front door being pushed open. I sighed, sitting up and grabbing the mattock I kept leaned against my nightstand. Another break-in. It had been months since any zombies had even stumbled across my safe house, and I’d started to think I was truly alone out here.

Guess not.

Descending the stairs quietly, I prepared for the worst. My muscles tensed as I reached the ground floor, but when I rounded the corner into the living room, I froze at the sight of the intruders. They were surprisingly not undead.

A group of about ten people stood huddled together, illuminated by the dim glow of my solar-powered lights. Among them were familiar faces that stopped me dead in my tracks: Loona alum Hyeju, Twice’s Jeongyeon and Dahyun, Yunjin from Le Sserafim, Chodan from QWER, and Yena from IZ*ONE.

Their wide-eyed stares mirrored my own surprise, though for different reasons.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence and hefting the mattock onto my shoulder, “you could have just knocked.”

The group flinched slightly, but Dahyun and Chodan were the first to recover.

“Daigo?” they said in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.

I nodded, leaning the mattock against the wall. “The one and only. Now,” I said, gesturing toward the group, “how can I help you survivors out?”

Dahyun stepped forward, her face a mix of relief and confusion. “We didn’t think… I mean, we heard rumors that someone was living out here, but we didn’t expect it to be you.”

“Well, here I am,” I said, crossing my arms. “Looking exactly like I did last time you saw me, minus the security guard uniform.”

Chodan laughed, though it was more from nerves than humor. “Leave it to Daigo to survive the apocalypse and somehow look like he’s thriving.”

“I’ve had some practice,” I replied, motioning toward the group. “Now, you all look like you’ve been through hell. Sit down, and let’s figure out what you need.”

Hyeju finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “We’re out of options. Supplies are running low, and we’ve been moving nonstop for weeks. We need food, shelter—anything you can spare.”

Yunjin, standing close to Hyeju, added, “We didn’t mean to break in. We thought this place was abandoned.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the reinforced door now hanging slightly ajar. “Does this look abandoned to you? The lights didn’t give it away?”

Yena chimed in, her tone apologetic. “In our defense, we’ve seen plenty of powered-up places that were overrun. We didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Fair enough,” I said, letting out a breath. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today. Follow me.”

I led the group into the dining room, which I’d converted into a makeshift supply depot. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with canned goods, first aid supplies, and neatly folded clothes. Two freezers hummed quietly in the corner, a rare sound in the apocalypse.

“Holy crap,” Jeongyeon whispered, her eyes scanning the room. “You’ve got more here than most of the settlements we’ve passed through.”

“Like I said,” I replied, opening one of the freezers to reveal vacuum-sealed packages of meat and frozen vegetables, “I’ve had practice. Take what you need, but don’t get greedy. This isn’t a charity.”

The group quickly got to work organizing supplies, redistributing their belongings, and planning what they needed most. Meanwhile, Dahyun lingered near me, her expression unreadable.

“You really made it out here on your own,” she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief and something close to admiration. “I thought… I thought you might’ve been gone, like everyone else.”

“Would’ve been,” I replied with a small, wry smile, “but I got bit. Bright side? Didn’t turn.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as she digested that information. “You’re immune?”

“Guess so. Though it wasn’t a walk in the park,” I admitted. “But what about you? Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Dahyun shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor. “We’ve been running since day one. Some of us made it; others didn’t. It’s been… rough.”

I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. “I can imagine. Well, you’re safe here for now. Take a breather. You’ve earned it.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, and she gave me a small, grateful smile before joining the others.

For the first time in months, my house felt alive. Voices filled the air as the group settled in, sharing stories and laughter over the first real meal they’d had in days. They were hesitant at first, like the silence of survival had been ingrained into their instincts. But as the night went on, the weight on their shoulders seemed to lift, even if only temporarily.

After everyone had eaten and showered, Chodan approached me, her sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

“You know,” she began, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, “you’re living like a king here. You could easily take your talents to a settlement and help a lot of people.”

I sighed, setting my water bottle down and rolling up my sleeve to show her the faint remnants of my bite mark.

“I’m infected. Can’t really risk being around people. I could turn at any moment.”

Chodan raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Really?” she said, before lifting her shirt just enough to reveal a faint scar near her side.

My brain short-circuited for a moment. It had been months since I’d seen anyone this close, let alone someone this… distracting. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my face.

“Relax, caveman,” she teased, lowering her shirt. “Just showing you my bite mark. I got bit three weeks ago. The gestation period is supposed to be 48 hours max, and yet… here I am. Still human. So, either we’re both lucky, or we’re both immune. Oh, and by the way,” she added with a mischievous grin, “Dahyun got bit too. Day before yesterday.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, looking over at Dahyun, who was now watching us with a sheepish expression.

“It’s true,” Dahyun admitted, stepping closer. “I was afraid to say anything at first, but… then I collapsed. As you can see i got better.”

I nodded slowly, piecing it together. “Well, I got bit 28 weeks ago—so I guess I’m either immune or just incredibly unlucky.”

Chodan’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty-eight weeks? That’s… day zero.”

I nodded again. “Yeah. It happened during the initial outbreak.”

Her expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “Did you hear anything on the first day? There were reports of a high-pitched whine right before people started turning.”

I frowned, thinking back. “Nope. Didn’t hear a thing.”

Chodan’s eyes widened. “Oh. Then you’re truly immune.”

I squinted at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if delivering a secret. “The virus can’t infect you at all. If you didn’t hear the sound, it means your body isn’t affected by the signal it sends. You can’t turn, period.”

“But,” I interjected, “when I got bit, my veins turned black.”

“Did you have any other symptoms? Fever? Rage? Loss of consciousness?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” Chodan said, standing upright again. “You’re not a regular immune, though. You’re not a Slayer either.”

“Wait—Slayer?” I asked, now thoroughly confused.

Hyeju, who had been quietly observing, chimed in. “Slayers are people who’ve had the virus evolve them instead of killing or turning them. We’re stronger, faster… better, basically.”

I glanced around at the group, now realizing the mix of reactions on their faces. “Wait—you’re all Slayers?”

Chodan grinned. “Me, Hyeju, and Dahyun, yeah.”

“Oh, thanks for explaining it so thoroughly, Hyeju,” I said, shooting her a grateful look.

Hyeju smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome, Daigo. Oh, and thanks for the food.”

“You’re very welcome,” I replied, shaking my head. Of course, my safe house had gone from a sanctuary to a den of superpowered survivors in less than a day.

After the group had cleaned themselves up and prepared to leave, I directed them to the vehicles scattered throughout the neighborhood.

“They should still be working,” I explained, gesturing to the trucks and sedans.

The group looked at me in surprise. “Wait, you’ve been keeping all these in working condition?” Dahyun asked, her eyebrows raised.

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I haven’t repaired them or anything major, but I’ve kept the batteries charged, fluids topped up, and tires inflated. Basic upkeep,” I said with a shrug.

A few of them smiled as they hopped into the trucks. The group packed quickly, clearly practiced in loading supplies efficiently, though their movements carried the exhaustion of constant survival.

As the last of the supplies were loaded, Chodan and Dahyun approached me. They exchanged a glance before Dahyun stepped forward, her voice almost pleading.

“Please come with us,” she said.

Chodan chimed in, her tone more assertive. “We kind of need someone like you.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning casually on my mattock. “You need a socially awkward hothead?”

Chodan laughed, but Dahyun shook her head, her expression serious. “No. A leader.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. My gut reaction was to brush it off, but something in her tone gave me pause. I mulled it over for a moment before sighing. “Sure. Why not?”

The group let out a collective breath of relief, and I found myself helping them secure the last of their supplies before climbing into my car and following their convoy.

When we arrived at their settlement near the military base, my optimism took a nosedive. The place was barely holding together. Makeshift walls surrounded a cluster of tents and scavenged buildings. People wandered the grounds with hollow eyes, looking malnourished and weary.

“Jeez,” I muttered under my breath. “This is what you’re working with?”

As we parked, Eunha stood with a young man near the entrance. They were holding hands, their expressions tinged with equal parts hope and surprise as they saw the trucks pull in.

Yunjin jumped out of one of the vehicles, her voice ringing with triumph. “We got food! And water!”

The settlement erupted into cheers, a wave of relief sweeping over the ragged residents.

I, however, was less than impressed. “Wait, wait, wait,” I called out, holding up a hand. “You have access to water, energy, and military-grade weapons, and yet you look like you’re on the brink of starvation?”

The young man was the first to respond, his voice heavy with frustration. “The base proper is overrun. If you’re so eager to fix it, be my guest.”

I turned to the group, stunned. “So you’re telling me you haven’t even secured the base?”

The residents nodded sheepishly. I groaned, rubbing my temples. Without a word, I popped the trunk of my car and began pulling out weapons: a pair of customized gauntlets and boots I’d tinkered with during my long months alone.

“What are you doing?” one of the settlers asked nervously.

I sighed, strapping on the gear. “Making sure you all don’t die,” I muttered.

Before I could head toward the base, Chodan and Dahyun stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“You can’t go in there,” Chodan said firmly. “There are rippers and changers inside.”

I froze, the names sparking a connection in my mind. Rippers—zombies with bladed arms capable of slicing through steel—and changers—fast, intelligent zombies that evolved in real time. Apex predators in a world of monsters.

“Are there whippers and spitters?” I asked, scanning the group for confirmation.

Everyone looked at me blankly. “What?” Chodan asked.

“Big zombies that spew acid, napalm, or spikes,” I clarified. “Or ones with long tongues that whip around like grappling hooks?”

Chodan and Dahyun exchanged a glance before shaking their heads. “No. None of that,” Dahyun said.

I gave them a thumbs-up. “Great. Then I’m going in, pummeling anything that moves and isn’t human, and we’ll secure the base so we can all stop living in this mess.”

I started toward the base, but Chodan stepped closer—so close I could feel her breath on my chest. My heart stuttered for a moment, and I cursed my brain for its caveman reaction.

“Daigo,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “For how I fight? Not really. Besides, as long as I follow the first rule of zombie apocalypses, I’ll be fine.”

The group stared at me, confused. “What’s that?” Dahyun finally asked.

I grinned. “Be smart, not scared.”

Without another word, I climbed the fence.

Before I could take another step, Chodan effortlessly vaulted over the fence after me in a single, graceful bound. I looked at her and realized she could easily fend off whatever was in there.

Chodan smirked, falling into step beside me. “You’re going to need me in there,” she said.

I glanced at her, then back at the base. “Guess we’ll see.”

We walked in with weapons raised, every sense heightened as we approached the entrance to the base. The stench of rot and decay hit us like a wall, the ground littered with body parts and unidentifiable chunks of flesh. The once-pristine military structure was now a grotesque tableau of death. Every step squelched against blood-soaked concrete, a grim reminder of what waited for us inside.

The first zombie to spot us let out a guttural screech, its twisted body lurching forward at an unnatural speed. Its milky-white eyes locked onto me as it sprinted, claws outstretched. I snapped my fingers, and flames erupted from my gauntlets and boots, wrapping around them like living entities.

With a single step forward, I swung my fist. The punch connected with the zombie's head, obliterating it in an instant. The headless body collapsed to the floor in a heap, twitching violently before going still.

I glanced over at Chodan, who raised an eyebrow in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Not bad,” she said, her tone impressed but still teasing.

I shrugged, brushing off her compliment. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Over the next few minutes, more zombies emerged from the shadows, drawn by the noise and the scent of fresh prey. Five of them charged at me in quick succession. I moved through them with a fiery ferocity, each punch igniting their decaying flesh. With every strike, I could feel the heat coursing through my body, the fire making short work of the infected.

Just as I finished off the last one, I turned to see Chodan spring into action. She unsheathed a short katana—I think it’s called a wakizashi or something like that—and moved with a lethal grace that was mesmerizing. Each slice of her blade was precise, every motion deliberate.

She ducked and spun, her strikes fluid and elegant as she danced through the undead. Her blade flashed in the dim light, leaving trails of crimson in the air. Within moments, the horde around her lay in pieces. It wasn’t just impressive—it was downright sexy. (What can I say? I like women who can fight, and after six months of isolation, watching Chodan in action was… distracting, to say the least.)

Together, we made our way deeper into the base, clearing out every corridor, room, and hallway we came across. Along the way, we gathered access cards and files, carefully choosing the ones that weren’t completely soaked in blood or viscera. Mapping out the base was crucial if we wanted to make it a safe haven.

Two grueling hours later, we emerged from the base, our task for the day complete.

The camp was waiting for us when we returned. Their faces lit up in shock and awe at the sight of us alive and—well, mostly intact. Thanks to the fiery nature of my weapons, I was relatively clean, save for a few smudges of soot. Chodan, on the other hand, looked like she’d walked straight out of Kill Bill. Her clothes were drenched in blood, and her katana was dripping crimson.

The group stared for a moment before breaking into cheers. Their joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite the exhaustion.

Over the next two weeks, the slayers and I worked tirelessly to clear the rest of the base. The deeper sections were overrun, and each encounter with the infected felt like a battle against time and attrition. We couldn’t risk leaving a single zombie behind, knowing even one could cause a mini-outbreak once the camp moved in.

During this time, we also worked to fully map out the base, identifying areas that could be repurposed for agriculture, water purification, and living quarters. One of the larger open-air courtyards became the designated zone for growing vegetables and fruits, a necessary counterbalance to the endless supply of fish we’d soon be consuming.

By the end of the second week, we had restored power to the base and set up a desalination system to provide fresh water. The once-derelict military base was beginning to transform into a functional, self-sufficient community. By the end of the month, we had fortified the perimeter, secured resources, and established a sustainable living environment that could endure the apocalypse indefinitely.

Yet, despite our progress, I couldn’t shake the restless feeling gnawing at the back of my mind.

Sensing this, Yunjin and Hyeju decided to lift everyone’s spirits by organizing a celebration. The party was small but lively, with music, laughter, and a rare sense of warmth filling the air. People danced and shared stories, the weight of survival temporarily forgotten.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt connected—to them, to this place, and maybe even to something greater than myself.

The celebration was in full swing by the time I made my way to the center of the courtyard. Lanterns we’d scavenged from the base cast a warm glow over the party, and the air buzzed with a mix of laughter, music, and the clinking of makeshift cups. For the first time in months, the weight of the apocalypse seemed to lift, even if only temporarily.

I leaned against a crate of supplies, enjoying the scene as I nursed a glass of something Yunjin had proudly labeled “party punch.” (It tasted like motor oil with a hint of lemon, but hey, it was the thought that counted.)

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dahyun making her way toward me. Her smile was soft, and there was something unspoken in her eyes. “Hey,” she said, holding up her cup as she leaned against the crate beside me.

“Hey,” I replied, offering a small smile.

“I was just thinking,” she began, “none of this would’ve been possible without you. Clearing the base, organizing everything—you’ve done more in a few weeks than we’ve managed in months.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s not like I did it alone. You all worked just as hard.”

She shook her head, her expression earnest. “Don’t sell yourself short, Daigo. You brought people together. That’s not something everyone can do.”

Before I could respond, Chodan appeared on my other side, seemingly out of nowhere. She slid in smoothly, her confident smirk firmly in place. “Are we talking about how great Daigo is? Because I’ve got a list.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her sudden arrival. Dahyun stiffened beside me, her relaxed posture shifting as her grip tightened on her cup.

“Didn’t realize I had a fan club,” I joked, trying to ease the tension.

Chodan ignored me, her gaze focused on Dahyun. “You’re right, though,” she said, her tone just a little too pointed. “Daigo’s been a real asset. Honestly, I don’t know how we managed without him.”

“Guess you’ll have to start getting used to it,” Dahyun replied, her smile polite but strained. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

Chodan tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Oh, I don’t know. He might decide to come on a few missions with me. You know, something more exciting than farming and base maintenance.”

“Farming is exciting when it’s keeping people alive,” Dahyun shot back, her voice calm but firm. “Not everyone needs to play the hero to make a difference.”

I glanced between the two of them, sensing the subtle sparks flying. “Uh, you guys okay?” I asked, trying to break the tension.

“Perfectly fine,” Dahyun said quickly, taking a sip of her drink.

“Just fine,” Chodan echoed, crossing her arms as she leaned closer to me. “Speaking of heroes, Daigo, you’ve got to tell me how you learned to fight like that. I’ve never seen anyone take on a group of zombies the way you did.”

Dahyun raised an eyebrow. “It’s not all about fighting. He’s got other skills too, like keeping the base running and making sure we don’t starve. That’s just as important.”

“Of course,” Chodan replied smoothly, her tone dripping with faux agreement. “But let’s be real—there’s no base to run if you can’t keep it safe.” She turned to me, her expression playful but loaded. “Right, Daigo?”

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… I mean, both are important?”

Dahyun rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression now. “Nice save,” she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine.

Chodan laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Guess that’s why he’s the leader, huh?”

The three of us stood there for a moment, the awkwardness lingering but not entirely unpleasant. As the party carried on around us, I couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, even if the attention was overwhelming.

Yunjin’s voice cut through the noise, calling everyone to the center for a toast. I used the opportunity to excuse myself, slipping away from the growing crowd and finding a quieter corner to breathe.

As I leaned against the wall, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. The apocalypse sure had a funny way of complicating things.

The camp had grown exponentially since we first cleared the base. Word spread fast, and survivors from across the region trickled in, desperate for safety and stability. Among the newcomers were two slayers: Hyewon, a quiet yet sharp-eyed scout from a decimated group, and Tsuki, a high-energy fighter with a knack for unconventional tactics.

Their arrival was a turning point.

I was inspecting the desalination system one morning when Hyewon approached me, her movements were measured but purposeful. She didn’t say much at first—just hovered nearby, watching as I adjusted a valve. Finally, she spoke.

“You really run this place?” she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes cautious.

“I guess so,” I replied with a shrug. “Not much of a title, but I try to keep things running smoothly.”

She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “You treat slayers… differently.”

“Differently how?”

“Like people,” she said simply. “My last group didn’t.”

Before I could respond, Tsuki bounded up, her energy a stark contrast to Hyewon’s reserved demeanor.

“This place is amazing!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels. “Food, water, even showers! And no one’s looking at us like we’re monsters.” She paused, giving me a wide grin. “You’re the boss, right?”

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” I said, standing up and wiping my hands on a rag. “But I try to keep everyone alive.”

“Well, count me in!” Tsuki declared, sticking out her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hyewon, still standing a few feet away, added quietly, “Me neither.”

At first, their attachment was subtle. Hyewon would shadow me during supply runs, her sharp eyes scanning for threats. Tsuki, on the other hand, was more overt, always offering to help with repairs or sparring with other slayers under my supervision.

But as more survivors arrived, the camp’s dynamics began to shift. With new faces came new opinions—and new power struggles.

One evening, after a long day of clearing more space in the base for new arrivals, a meeting was called in the main hall. It was supposed to be a discussion about resource management, but it quickly spiraled into a debate over leadership.

“Daigo’s done a great job, but we need more structure,” a man named Mark, one of the newer arrivals, said. “We can’t just rely on one person’s decisions.”

“I agree,” chimed in Lisa, a former teacher who’d quickly become a voice for the non-slayer survivors. “We should have a council or something. It’s too risky to have all the power in one person’s hands.”

“I don’t think he’s been abusing it,” Dahyun countered, her voice calm but firm.

Mark shot her a look. “That’s not the point. The camp’s grown too big for one person to handle.”

Before I could speak, Tsuki jumped to her feet.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice rising. “Daigo’s the reason this place isn’t a pile of ash. If it weren’t for him, half of you wouldn’t even be here!”

Hyewon, still seated, added quietly but pointedly, “He treats slayers like equals. That’s more than I can say for most of you.”

The room grew tense, the divide between slayers and non-slayers suddenly glaring.

“I’m not saying we don’t appreciate him,” Mark said, his tone defensive. “But this camp belongs to all of us, not just the slayers.”

“And yet you’re here because of us,” Chodan interjected, standing next to Dahyun. “You think you’d survive a day out there without us?”

The argument grew louder, voices overlapping as the group fractured into factions. Some sided with Mark and Lisa, calling for more democratic leadership. Others, particularly the slayers, stood by me, pointing out the unique challenges we faced in keeping everyone alive.

I raised my hand, and slowly the room quieted.

“Enough,” I said, my voice firm but not angry. “This isn’t about me, or anyone else. It’s about survival. We can figure out the leadership structure later. Right now, we focus on what matters: keeping this camp safe and functional.”

The room was silent for a moment, then Lisa spoke up. “Fair enough. But this conversation isn’t over.”

She and Mark left the hall, and slowly, others followed, leaving only the slayers and a few loyal survivors. Tsuki crossed her arms, glaring at the door.

“They don’t get it,” she muttered.

“They’re scared,” I said, leaning against the table. “Can’t blame them for that.”

Hyewon stood, her gaze steady. “You’re too nice, Daigo. But that’s why we trust you.”

Chodan nodded, and even Dahyun offered a rare smile.

As the others filed out, I sat alone in the hall for a while, the weight of the growing camp pressing down on me. Leadership wasn’t something I’d ever asked for, but it seemed I didn’t have much of a choice.

Later that night I found myself struggling to sleep. My quarters were as simple as it got: a small bed with a lumpy mattress, a desk buried under maps and scavenged files, and a single lamp casting just enough light to keep the darkness at bay. After the day I’d had, all I wanted was to pass out. But sleep wasn’t coming easily. Too many faces were swimming in my head—worried faces, hopeful faces, faces looking to me for answers.

I was lying there, staring at the ceiling, when a soft knock came at the door.

“It’s open,” I called, too tired to sit up.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over to see Chodan stepping inside. She looked calm, but I knew her well enough by now to notice the subtle tension in her posture.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Figured you’d still be awake.”

“Barely,” I muttered, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “What’s up?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked over to the bed and knelt down beside me. Before I could ask what she was doing, I felt her hands on my shoulders.

“What are you—”

“You’re tense,” she interrupted, already working at the knots in my muscles. “Let me help.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Her hands were strong, and as much as I wanted to protest, I couldn’t deny it felt good. So I just sighed and let her work, the tension slowly melting away.

“You’ve got your hands full,” she said after a while, her tone light. “Especially with your little ducklings.”

“My what now?” I asked, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.

“Hyewon and Tsuki,” she said with a smirk. “They’ve imprinted on you like a couple of baby ducks.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “They’re not ducklings. They’re just… adjusting.”

“Adjusting to following you around like lost puppies?” she teased. “You can’t take two steps without one of them popping up to ask if you need anything.”

“They’re slayers,” I said defensively. “They’ve been through hell. Of course they’re going to stick close to someone who treats them with basic respect.”

Chodan’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “And that’s exactly why they follow you, you know. Most people don’t look at us the way you do.”

“The way I do?”

“Like we’re just people,” she said quietly. “Not monsters. Not weapons. Just… people.”

I was silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Because you are just people,” I said finally. “You didn’t ask for this any more than the rest of us asked for zombies. You’re just trying to survive like everyone else.”

Chodan’s hands stilled on my shoulders, and when I looked over, her expression was softer than I’d ever seen it.

“That’s not how everyone sees it,” she said. “Since more survivors started showing up, Dahyun and I… we’ve felt it. The whispers, the stares. It’s like we don’t belong here anymore. Like we’re dangerous.”

I sat up, brushing her hands aside so I could look her in the eye. “You belong here,” I said firmly. “Both of you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

She studied me for a long moment, then smiled—a small, genuine smile that made her look younger, almost vulnerable. “You’re a strange guy, Daigo,” she said. “But I think that’s why people follow you. Even when they don’t agree with you, they trust you.”

I chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Strange, huh? I’ll take it.”

Chodan tilted her head, her smile turning sly again. “You know, you’ve done more than any of us. You’re not a slayer, but you’ve taken down more zombies than all of us combined. And you’re immune on top of that. It’s like you’re something else entirely.”

“Just a guy with a lot of stubbornness and a decent punch,” I said with a shrug.

She shook her head. “No, you’re more than that. You’ve earned a title.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A title?”

She nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah. From now on, you’re ‘The Vanquisher.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “The Vanquisher? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin. “But it fits. You’re the guy who doesn’t back down, no matter what’s in front of you. And you’ve given all of us hope. You deserve it.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I managed, “Thanks, Chodan. That… means a lot.”

She stood, stretching and giving me one last playful look. “Get some rest, Vanquisher. Tomorrow’s another busy day.”

As she left the room, I lay back down, the weight on my chest feeling a little lighter. For the first time in weeks, I drifted off to sleep with a small smile on my face.

The door to my quarters closed softly behind Chodan, but her teasing smirk lingered in my mind as I lay back down. Her parting remark about my “little ducklings” had been a low blow. She wasn’t wrong, though. Tsuki and Hyewon had latched onto me like lost kids, which wasn’t a problem—until you factored in Chodan and Dahyun, who had both been… friendlier lately.

I didn’t know what to make of it. They were strong, capable women, and maybe I was imagining things, but their lingering glances and playful jabs felt like more than camaraderie. It was something I’d need to ask them about. Tomorrow, I decided.

Only tomorrow didn’t start the way I planned.

The yelling pulled me from a restless sleep. I threw on my boots and stepped out into the chilly morning air to find Gil, Eunha’s boyfriend, squaring off with one of Martin’s goons.

“You left her to die!” Gil snarled, shoving the guy hard enough that he stumbled.

Martin’s man pushed back, and before things escalated further, I stepped between them. “What’s going on here?”

Gil’s chest was heaving, his hands clenched into fists. “Eunha’s out there, Daigo. Alone. She got bit because of them!”

Martin sauntered up, wearing his usual smug expression. “It’s simple,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t life and death. “She wasn’t cut out for supply runs. Not my problem.”

For a second, I was too stunned to respond. I glanced back at Gil, who looked ready to explode, and said the only thing I could. “Let’s go get her.”

The commotion had drawn a crowd. Lisa’s group, always eager for drama, arrived first. Mark wasn’t far behind, his posse trailing like shadows.

“What’s going on?” Lisa asked, her tone sharp.

“This crazy bastard is going to help that lovesick idiot find his zombie girlfriend,” Martin sneered.

I ignored him, turning instead to Chodan and Dahyun, who had pushed their way through the growing throng. I handed them the site keycards without a word. If something happened to me, they’d keep the camp together.

Before I could leave, Tsuki and Hyewon appeared, weapons already strapped on.

“We’re coming with you,” Tsuki said, her tone resolute.

I sighed but didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth the fight. The four of us set out, Gil fuming silently at my side while Hyewon and Tsuki kept pace behind us.

Once we were out of earshot of the camp, my frustration boiled over.

“Those idiots are going to get everyone killed,” I growled, my voice low but seething.

Gil, Tsuki, and Hyewon stopped in their tracks, stunned.

“They’re so caught up in their fear and egos that they’re making stupid choices,” I continued, pacing now. “And when they screw up, people die. Or worse, they turn into slayers.”

Gil looked at me, shocked. “I… I didn’t realize…”

I stopped and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my temper in check. “It’s not your fault, Gil. You’re good. They’re the ones twisting everything. These supply runs? They’re not about survival. They’re about power. Credibility. They’re trying to build themselves up while tearing the rest of us down.”

The others didn’t reply, their silence heavy. We reached the edge of the horde soon after. Eunha was there, fighting for her life, her movements erratic but fierce.

I whistled, drawing the zombies’ attention away from her. “Let’s get her out of this mess.”

When we returned to the camp, Eunha was barely conscious. Her slayer transformation was starting, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. I sent Gil to the infirmary with her while I headed back toward the center of camp.

That’s when I saw them—a new group of survivors, all slayers. And among them, three familiar faces: Momo Hirai, Sana Minatozaki, and Mina Myoui.

Dahyun’s cry of joy echoed through the air as she ran to embrace her friends. The reunion was heartwarming, but it didn’t last long. Lisa, Mark, and Martin arrived like clockwork, their expressions darkening the moment they spotted the new arrivals.

“Who are they?” Lisa demanded, her voice like a whip crack.

Sana stepped forward, her radiant smile disarming. “We’re survivors, just like you. And we’re slayers. We can help.”

The word “slayers” hit like a bomb. I watched as Lisa’s face twisted in disgust, while Mark and Martin exchanged uneasy glances.

“No,” Lisa said, her voice dripping with venom. “We have enough slayers already.”

Something inside me snapped.

I stepped forward, my presence enough to silence the crowd. “I am sick and tired of your bullshit,” I said, my voice low and measured, every word cutting like a blade.

The tension in the air was palpable as I continued, “We’re all just trying to survive, and you three are doing the absolute most while somehow doing the least. You put people in danger, then leave them for dead. Why? For what? Por qué? 무어?”

Lisa, to her credit, didn’t back down. “You protect these freaks because two of them are your paramours,” she spat.

The camp went deathly quiet. My vision blurred at the edges as my anger surged. For a brief moment, I felt something—something primal, something dark—stir within me.

I stepped closer to Lisa, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Do you know what the Black Rage is?”

She hesitated, but her defiance didn’t waver. “No.”

I leaned in, my gaze locked on hers. “It’s from Warhammer 40k. There’s a militia cursed with it because their leader, Sanguinius, sacrificed himself to save the galaxy. It’s a state of murderous blind rage that festers in the soul, brought out under massive stress. Your words, Lisa, are pushing me there.”

She paled but didn’t respond.

I straightened, addressing the entire camp now. “If you don’t want slayers here, you can leave. But while I’m leading this settlement, you will treat them with respect and dignity. Am I clear?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Lisa turned and stormed off, Mark and Martin trailing behind her.

As I looked back at the camp, my eyes met Sana’s. She smiled softly, a look of gratitude and understanding that made the tension in my chest ease just a little.

Scene: “The Breaking Point” (Revised Ending)

The silence was unbearable as Lisa stormed off, Mark and Martin following behind like shadows. I exhaled deeply, trying to steady my racing heart. The crowd began to disperse, though I could feel their eyes on me—some wide with awe, others wary, as if they’d seen something they couldn’t quite explain.

My knuckles ached. I looked down and realized my fists were clenched so tightly they’d gone white. Slowly, I loosened them, flexing my fingers as I willed the anger to fade.

That’s when I heard it—a whisper, faint but undeniable.

“Daigo?”

I turned to see Tsuki and Hyewon standing nearby, both looking more shaken than I’d ever seen them. Tsuki’s usual bubbly demeanor was gone, replaced by an unease that didn’t suit her. Hyewon seemed like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

The two exchanged glances before Tsuki stepped forward hesitantly. “Your eyes…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What about them?” I asked, frowning.

“They… changed,” she said. “For a second, they weren’t… normal.”

Hyewon nodded, adding softly, “And we heard something.”

“What do you mean, something?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“It was like… a crack,” Tsuki said, her hands gesturing as if she could grasp the sound. “Not outside. Inside you. Like something broke open.”

I stared at them, my mind racing. A part of me wanted to brush it off, to say they were imagining things. But the way they looked at me—half in awe, half in fear—told me they weren’t exaggerating.

“I don’t know what you think you saw or heard,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “But I’m fine.”

Tsuki frowned, stepping closer. “Are you? Because I don’t think anyone else could have stood up to Lisa like that. Or said what you did.”

Hyewon nodded again, her voice gaining strength. “You didn’t just talk to them, Daigo. You commanded them. It was… different.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just tired of their crap, that’s all.”

“But it’s more than that,” Tsuki pressed. “You don’t act like the rest of us. You don’t feel like the rest of us. Even the slayers here—none of us have done what you’ve done. It’s like…” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like what?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“Like you’re something else,” she said, meeting my eyes with a mixture of curiosity and reverence.

Hyewon nodded one last time, her expression solemn. “Something more.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked away, their voices echoing in my mind.

Scene: “Something More” (Expanded)

Something more.

The words lingered in my head like an echo, an itch I couldn’t scratch. As I made my way back to my quarters, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. My legs gave out beneath me, and the world went dark.

When I came to, the sterile smell of the infirmary greeted me. My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, and the soft glow of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

A familiar voice pulled me back to reality. “Well, you did turn,” the nurse said, her smile a mix of wariness and curiosity.

I frowned, propping myself up on the thin cot. “I’m immune,” I replied, my voice gravelly.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an almost playful smirk. “Didn’t say normal,” she retorted.

She moved to the counter and grabbed a set of charts and X-rays, holding them up for me to see. “Take a look at this.”

The first X-ray showed something alien—a massive growth in my chest, a twisted knot of tissue that seemed to intertwine with every major organ. My stomach churned just looking at it.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, the unease creeping into my voice.

“That,” the nurse said, flipping to the next image, “was in your chest.”

I blinked. The second X-ray was… different. The growth was gone. In its place was something just as bizarre: a second heart, perfectly formed and sitting comfortably next to the first.

I stared at the images, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. “How?” was all I managed to say.

The nurse set the charts down and folded her arms. “When you were exposed to the necrophage virus, your body didn’t react like a normal immune person’s. Instead of fighting it off or succumbing to it, your body… evolved. It built that growth to house the virus, to contain it. And then, over time, your body started to metabolize the virus, integrating it into your cells.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to keep up. “So, what? I was a carrier?”

The nurse shook her head. “Not quite. The virus never spread from you like it would from a typical carrier. Instead, it stayed inside that structure. But yesterday, something changed. That growth cracked open. Your body finished… whatever it was doing.”

I felt a cold sweat forming. “What does that mean? Am I a slayer now?”

The nurse tilted her head, studying me like I was some rare specimen. “Honestly? I don’t know what you are,” she admitted. “But here’s what I do know: your body has fully integrated the virus into its DNA. You’ve got new cells—ones I’m calling D-cells, because, well…” She grinned. “Your name’s Daigo. Thought it was fitting.”

I rolled my eyes, but her grin didn’t falter.

“These D-cells are doing things I’ve never seen before,” she continued. “They’re healing you, regulating you, enhancing you. And that second heart? It’s not just an extra organ. It’s part of the whole system now, like your body’s leveling up in ways I can’t fully understand yet. I’ll need to do more tests, but…” She hesitated.

“But what?” I pressed.

She leaned in slightly, her tone turning serious. “Daigo, you’re not human anymore. Not entirely, anyway.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I sat there, letting them sink in.

After a moment, I swung my legs off the cot and stood up, testing my balance. My body felt… different. Stronger. Lighter, even.

The nurse watched me carefully. “Also,” she added with a sly smile, “don’t tell anyone about this. I’m the only one who knows, and honestly? I like you in charge. My boyfriend is a slayer and you make us feel welcome. Don’t want anyone getting ideas.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Just don’t go growing a third heart or sprouting wings, okay?” she teased, already jotting down notes on her clipboard.

I walked out of the infirmary, her words replaying in my mind. Not human anymore.

And yet, as unsettling as that was, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for the future.

I barely made it ten steps from the infirmary when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. I turned just as Dahyun came barreling toward me, her eyes wide and shimmering with emotion. Before I could say a word, her arms were around me, clutching me like I was about to disappear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

“For what?” I asked, startled.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands still gripping my jacket. “For Momo, Sana, and Mina. For bringing them in, for standing up for them. For keeping them safe.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of her gratitude. “Dahyun, they’re survivors. Of course I’m going to protect them.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No, it’s more than that. You didn’t just let them in; you defended them. You treated them like people. You don’t know how rare that is for slayers—how rare that is for us.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and I realized she was trembling.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re here now. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

Her grip on my jacket tightened. “You don’t understand. Do you know what it felt like to see them again? To see their faces after thinking I’d never—” She stopped, her voice catching in her throat.

I waited, giving her the space to collect herself.

“They were my family,” she continued softly. “Before all of this, before the outbreak… we were together. We were everything to each other. And then I lost them. I thought I’d never see them again.”

Her tears spilled over, but she didn’t seem to care. “And now they’re here, alive, because of you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Words felt inadequate, so I did the only thing I could think of: I pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in my chest, her sobs muffled against me.

“You’re safe now,” I said quietly. “All of you.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken between us.

When Dahyun finally pulled back, her expression had shifted. The tears were still there, but her gaze was steady, determined.

“You’re more than just a leader, Daigo,” she said. “You’re… you’re a protector. For all of us.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a little uncomfortable with the intensity of her praise. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

She smiled, a mixture of sadness and warmth. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Before I could respond, she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. It wasn’t romantic—it was more like a gesture of gratitude, of trust.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice steady now. “For everything.”

Scene: “Two Heartbeats”

As Dahyun hugged me, her head pressed against my chest, I noticed her shift slightly. Her body stiffened, and she pulled back just enough to stare at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait…” she whispered, her hands pressing gently against my chest. “Daigo…”

I froze. “What is it?”

Her gaze darted to my chest, then back to my face. “I… I felt two heartbeats.”

I tried to play it off, forcing a dry chuckle. “You must be imagining things. Probably the adrenaline—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she interrupted, her tone firm, her eyes narrowing. “Daigo, I know what I felt.”

For a moment, I debated what to say. The nurse’s words about keeping it secret echoed in my mind. I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice calm but firm.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said, lowering my voice. “Not a soul. Promise me.”

Dahyun’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “I promise. But… Daigo, what’s going on? What’s happening to you?”

I hesitated, knowing I owed her some explanation. “It’s… complicated. I’ll explain later, okay? Just trust me for now.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m not letting this go.”

“Fair enough,” I said, offering her a faint smile to ease the tension. “Just… keep it between us.”

She nodded again, reluctantly letting the subject drop, but the concern in her eyes didn’t fade as she walked away.

Scene: “Confrontation”

Later that evening, I was back in my quarters, sprawled on my bed, trying to process everything. My body felt heavier than usual, like my own heartbeat—their rhythm—was a constant reminder that I was no longer the same.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts. Before I could answer, the door creaked open, and Dahyun and Chodan stepped inside.

I sat up, my instincts telling me this wasn’t a casual visit. “What’s up?”

Chodan folded her arms, her gaze sharp. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ us, Daigo. Dahyun told me.”

I shot Dahyun a look, but she raised her hands defensively. “I didn’t tell her everything! Just… enough. We’re worried about you.”

Chodan stepped closer, her voice softer now. “She said you’ve got two heartbeats. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding this. “Close the door,” I said.

Dahyun obeyed, and both of them sat down on the edge of the bed, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

“I went to the infirmary earlier,” I began. “After I collapsed. The nurse ran some tests… and apparently, I’m not human anymore.”

Both of their eyes widened.

“Not human?” Dahyun echoed.

Chodan leaned forward. “Explain.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of their stares. “The virus… the necrophage or whatever it’s called. It didn’t infect me like it does everyone else. My body ignored it, adapted to it instead. It built this… structure in my chest to house the virus, and eventually, it merged with me on a cellular level.”

Dahyun looked horrified. “So… you’re infected?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not like that. I’m immune, but the virus evolved inside me. It’s part of me now. My body has these new cells—D-cells, the nurse called them. They heal me, regulate me, even enhance me a little. But when that structure in my chest broke open, it triggered something… different. That’s when the second heart formed.”

Chodan whistled low, sitting back. “Damn. That’s… a lot.”

“You think?” I said dryly.

Dahyun looked at me, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“The nurse told me to keep it secret,” I admitted. “If people find out, it could cause chaos. They already look to me as a leader. If they knew I wasn’t… normal, it could go either way. They’d either worship me like some kind of savior or fear me like a monster. Neither is good for the camp.”

Chodan nodded slowly, processing. “Okay, I get it. But Daigo, you can’t keep this to yourself. If something happens—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I cut her off, my tone firmer than I intended. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. And for now, the fewer people who know, the better.”

Dahyun hesitated, then reached out to place a hand on mine. “We won’t tell anyone. But you have to promise us something.”

“What?” I asked.

Chodan leaned in, her tone serious. “If anything changes—if you start feeling worse, or different—you come to us. No hiding, no tough-guy act. Deal?”

I looked between them, seeing the genuine concern in their eyes. I nodded. “Deal.”

Dahyun exhaled in relief, and Chodan gave me a faint smirk. “Good. Now get some rest, Vanquisher. You’ve got a camp full of idiots to deal with tomorrow.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks for the reminder.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, I hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Hey… can you two stay the night with me?”

Dahyun and Chodan both turned to me, their eyes widening in surprise. They exchanged a quick glance, silent communication passing between them, before Dahyun gave a small smile and nodded.

“Of course,” she said softly.

“Sure thing, big guy,” Chodan added, her tone teasing but warm.

I felt a small wave of relief as they started settling in. At first, there was some debate about the sleeping arrangement.

“You’re in the middle,” Chodan declared, pointing at me.

Dahyun laughed, shaking her head. “No way. If he’s in the middle, he’ll be too stiff to sleep. I’ll take the middle.”

Chodan raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” Dahyun replied, giving her a playful shove.

In the end, Dahyun ended up sandwiched between us. Somehow, it felt… right. Too right.

As we all lay there, I couldn’t help but notice the way their warmth seeped into me, calming a part of my mind that was always on high alert. Their presence, their quiet breathing, the shared comfort—it was disgusting how good it felt.

I slept better that night than I had in years.

The morning light filtered through the cracked blinds, and I woke to find Dahyun already sitting up, her hair slightly mussed as she stretched. Chodan was still sprawled out, half-asleep, but her eyes opened when she noticed me stir.

“Morning,” Dahyun said with a smile, her voice soft and pleasant.

Chodan grinned lazily, propping herself up on an elbow. “You look like you actually slept for once.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I did.”

As I sat up, I glanced between them, both looking so at ease, so… perfect in this moment. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t quite name, and before I could stop myself, the words came out.

“Okay, it’s official. I love both of you.”

The room froze. Dahyun’s cheeks turned a deep red, her lips parting in surprise. Chodan, for once, looked genuinely caught off guard, her usual confidence replaced with wide eyes and a blush creeping up her neck.

“W-What?” Dahyun stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chodan let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her head. “Well, uh… that’s one hell of a way to start the morning.”

I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life. But I pressed on, because if I didn’t say it now, I might never.

“Listen, I don’t want to hurt either of you,” I said, my voice quieter now. “But I also don’t want to be alone anymore. I… I don’t think I can handle choosing between you. I care about both of you too much.”

They both stared at me for a long moment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I couldn’t read the room.

Dahyun finally broke the silence, her voice trembling but sincere. “We… we don’t want to hurt you either, Daigo.”

Chodan nodded, her usual bravado replaced with something softer. “Yeah. We get it.”

The tension eased slightly, and I gave them a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. For understanding.”

I stood up, stretching and preparing myself for another day in the chaos outside. “Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”

As I headed for the door, I glanced back at them one last time. Dahyun was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, her blush still lingering, while Chodan gave me a look that was equal parts amused and thoughtful.

I stepped outside, the weight of the camp’s problems settling back onto my shoulders. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel completely alone.

The morning air was crisp, the faint hum of the camp stirring to life all around me. But the moment I stepped into the central yard, I could feel the tension in the air like a cord stretched too tight. Mark, Lisa, and Martin were waiting for me near the supply tent, their expressions carefully neutral. Too carefully neutral.

“Daigo,” Lisa greeted, her voice dripping with faux warmth. “We wanted to have a word with you about some… concerns.”

I stopped a few feet from them, crossing my arms. “Concerns about what?”

Martin stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back like some kind of self-appointed general. “Leadership. We’ve been talking, and we’re worried you might be… overburdened.”

The words were polite, but the tone was anything but.

“Overburdened,” I repeated, my eyes narrowing.

Mark, who had been quiet until now, leaned against a nearby crate, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not personal, Daigo. It’s just… you’re young. This camp needs someone with experience, someone who knows how to make the hard calls.”

I felt a flicker of something at the edge of my vision—something imperceptible to anyone else but clear as day to me. My mind was racing, processing their every movement, every twitch, every glance they cast at each other. Their words didn’t align with their bodies.

Lisa’s arms were crossed tightly, her fingers gripping her elbows like she was holding herself together. Her gaze darted between Mark and Martin when she spoke, looking for approval she didn’t fully trust she’d get.

Martin’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if he were bracing for something. He avoided making eye contact with Mark altogether, his focus squarely on me.

Mark’s relaxed posture was an act, his fingers tapping a subtle rhythm on the crate’s edge. The tapping stopped every time Lisa spoke, only to resume when Martin chimed in.

They weren’t united. Not really.

They weren’t a team; they were a loose coalition of distrust, bound together by their mutual disdain for Slayers—and for me.

“You think I’m ill-suited for leadership,” I said, cutting through whatever diplomatic phrasing they were about to throw at me.

Lisa hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but Martin stepped in quickly. “We just think the camp might benefit from a more… collective approach.”

“Right,” I said slowly. “A collective approach where the three of you call the shots.”

Mark smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re not saying that. We just think you’ve got a lot on your plate. You’ve been making some questionable calls, like bringing in more Slayers. It’s upsetting people.”

I tilted my head, my mind still cataloging every twitch and glance. Lisa didn’t agree with Mark’s phrasing; her lips pressed into a thin line when he spoke. Martin didn’t either—his fingers flexed briefly, like he wanted to grab Mark by the collar and shut him up.

They weren’t here for the camp. They were here for themselves.

“You know what I think?” I said, my voice calm, almost conversational.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“I think the three of you don’t trust each other any more than you trust me,” I said bluntly. “And the only thing keeping you from tearing each other apart is your shared desire for power.”

Their reactions were immediate, though none of them spoke. Lisa’s arms uncrossed, her hands balling into fists. Martin’s shoulders squared, and his mouth opened as if to argue, but I cut him off.

“You think because I’m younger than you, you can manipulate me. Make me doubt myself. Convince me that I’m not capable of leading this camp. But let me tell you something.”

I took a step closer, my voice low but firm.

“I’ve seen what fear and desperation do to people. I’ve seen what happens when you let ambition cloud your judgment. This camp doesn’t need more politicians. It needs people who are willing to get their hands dirty. People who put survival over ego.”

Lisa took a step back, her confidence faltering. Mark’s smirk disappeared entirely, replaced by a tight-lipped glare. Martin, for all his posturing, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“I don’t trust you,” I said plainly. “Not because you disagree with me, but because I see through you. And if you think you can divide this camp, undermine me, or turn people against each other, let me make one thing clear: I won’t let that happen.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Are we done here?” I asked, my tone making it clear the conversation was over.

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it, glaring at me like she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Mark and Martin exchanged a glance, their earlier bravado now replaced with unease.

“Yeah,” Martin finally muttered, his voice lacking the confidence it had earlier. “We’re done.”

They turned and walked away, their uneasy silence speaking louder than any argument could have.

Lust’s voice slid into my thoughts before I even saw her.

“Brooding doesn’t suit you, Daigo.”

I turned and found her leaning against a pole, arms crossed, watching me like I was some puzzle she’d already figured out. Lust always had this effortless confidence about her, like she knew exactly where she stood and where everyone else didn’t.

“Lust,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “What do you want?”

She tilted her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Saw you dealing with the Three Stooges over there. Figured I’d save you before your brain melted from their bullshit.”

I huffed out a faint laugh despite myself. “Thanks, but I’m good. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

She pushed off the pole and took a slow step forward, her smirk fading into something more serious. “Alright, then. Let’s cut to the chase. We need to talk about the Slayers’ place in this camp.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, but I kept my face blank. “Go on.”

She gestured around us with a sweep of her arm. “This camp is crumbling, Daigo. You can feel it, can’t you? The survivors are scared of us. Some of them outright hate us. And those three idiots you just dealt with? They’re not going to stop until they take control. They see us as a threat—something they can’t predict, something they can’t control.”

“They’re wrong,” I said firmly.

“Of course they are,” she shot back with a shrug. “But what does that matter? What matters is perception. And right now, we’re the monsters under their beds, the things keeping them up at night.”

I folded my arms, trying to keep my frustration in check. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” she said, stepping closer, “is that maybe it’s time for us to move on.”

Her words threw me off balance. “You’re suggesting the Slayers leave the camp?”

“Not all of us,” she clarified. “But yeah, most of us. Think about it, Daigo. We’re stronger, faster, harder to kill. We don’t need the same resources they do. Half of them are terrified every time we walk past. We could be more useful out there—clearing zones, securing supplies, doing what we do best—without dragging this camp deeper into its own mess.”

I clenched my jaw, my thoughts racing. She wasn’t wrong. The tension between the Slayers and the regular survivors had been growing for weeks. Still, leaving? That felt like giving up.

“And what about the people here?” I asked. “The ones who rely on us? The ones who see us as hope?”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she dropped the smirk she always wore like armor. “You think I don’t care about them? I do. But you can’t save everyone, Daigo. And if we stay here too long, we’re just going to make things worse—for them and for us.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I looked away, staring at the horizon as doubts churned in my mind. “And where would we go?”

“That’s the thing about Slayers, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quieter now. “We don’t belong anywhere. We carve out a place for ourselves, or we die trying.”

I let her words sink in, the weight of them pressing down on my shoulders. She wasn’t wrong, but leaving wasn’t a decision I could make lightly.

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted, finally breaking the silence. “But I can’t make this decision on a whim.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’re the leader. It’s your call. But think about it—for all our sakes.”

She turned to leave but paused and glanced back over her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got a good heart, Daigo. Even if you’ve got two of them now.”

A few days later, I woke up to chaos. Shouting, pounding on my door—it felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Still half-asleep, I fumbled for my gauntlets and boots, instinct kicking in. Before I could even ask what was happening, the door slammed open, and a tide of bodies surged into my quarters.

They were on me before I could process anything. Arms grabbed at me, forcing my weapons from my hands. I swung once, twice, but there were too many. Too many voices, too many hands pulling me down. My head was spinning, and the shouts all blurred together until they were just noise.

“Traitor.” “Unfit.” “You’ve failed us.”

I heard bits and pieces, but none of it made sense. The more I struggled, the tighter they held me, their grip like iron as they dragged me out into the open. The morning sun was too bright, and the cold bit into my skin as if punishing me for something I didn’t even understand.

I tried to speak, but no one was listening. I stumbled as they pushed me forward, my boots scraping against the ground. The gauntlets weighed heavy on my wrists, my only connection to the strength I once thought I had.

They forced me past the camp’s main gates. My camp. The place I’d fought to protect. The people I’d bled for. And now, I was being tossed out like I was nothing.

The crowd gathered, a sea of faces filled with contempt, distrust, and apathy. No one spoke for me. No one stood in my defense.

Mark stood at the front, smug as ever, his voice carrying over the noise like a judge pronouncing a sentence. “You were a fool to think you could lead this place. You were never cut out for it. Now, get out.”

I clenched my fists, the leather of my gauntlets creaking under the strain. “You think this will end well for you?” My voice sounded weak even to me, the weight of it all pressing down.

Mark just smirked. “It’s not about you anymore.”

With that, he shoved me hard, sending me stumbling into the dirt. Behind me, the gates slammed shut, the echo like a final punctuation to the betrayal.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My chest felt hollow, like someone had reached in and pulled out whatever kept me standing all this time. My gauntlets and boots—the only things they’d left me—felt like relics of a life I no longer belonged to.

I got to my feet eventually, numb and directionless, and started walking. Each step away from the camp felt heavier than the last. The cold air stung my face, but I didn’t bother wiping the tears that streaked my cheeks. They froze against my skin like scars.

By the time I reached my old safe house, I felt like a ghost, moving on autopilot. My motorcycle sat there, still as I’d left it, a reminder of a time when I thought I was building something good. I climbed on, gripping the handlebars, and kicked it to life.

I drove for hours, the road stretching endlessly ahead of me. California disappeared in the rearview mirror, replaced by the barren landscapes of Arizona. At a checkpoint, a guard asked for my name and my race.

“Daigo,” I said, my voice dry. “And I’m a Vanquisher.”

The guard laughed. “Well, you’re definitely not a zombie. Too funny for that.”

I forced a chuckle, but it felt hollow.

Eventually, I found myself in Colorado. The air was quiet there, too quiet. There were no zombies, no people, no purpose. Just me and my thoughts. I settled into a rhythm: work, eat, sleep. Repeat.

But the loneliness clawed at me. Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Dahyun, Chodan, my ducklings. The camp. Even the ones who betrayed me. I missed them all, and the ache never went away.

Twenty-eight days passed like that. I told myself I was healing, but really, I was just surviving. Then I heard the news: a new group of slayers was moving into the area. I didn’t think much of it until I saw their vehicles rolling in.

The sight of familiar license plates made my chest tighten. I sat on my porch, sipping fruit punch, watching them unload. It was all too familiar. Too close to home.

Then I heard their voices. Two voices I’d know anywhere.

“Do you hear that?” “Yeah, it sounds like someone on this block has two hearts.”

I froze, my drink forgotten, and stood. When I saw them—Chodan and Dahyun—my heart felt like it might break all over again. They turned, and when they saw me, Chodan’s eyes welled up with tears as she rushed forward to hug me.

“Hey, big guy,” Dahyun said, her voice soft but steady.

I tried to smile, but it faltered when I saw the two men behind them. Slayers, obviously, their postures protective as they approached. My heart sank as Chodan and Dahyun introduced them—boyfriends.

I nodded, polite and distant, the ache in my chest threatening to swallow me whole. “Daigo,” I said, offering a handshake. “Just an old friend.”

They smiled, the moment slipping through my fingers like sand, and left me standing there.

As I walked back into my empty house, I felt the weight of my exile all over again. Even now, even here, I was still on the outside looking in.

[ironyscleverer]

Doctor Who as a Post-Colonial Metaphor

Recently I've been thinking a lot about how beautifully Doctor Who reflects the state of post-colonial British identity, and tumblr seems like the appropriate place to share my ramblings. So let’s see if I can explain in a way that makes sense.

I must start by putting on my obnoxious little film degree hat and reminding everyone that sci-fi is one of those genres that is highly political (as most things are, but scifi even moreso). It turns out it's pretty easy to get a sense of people's fears and anxieties by asking them to envision the future, and that's what sci-fi media does; it uses contemporary cultural standards and ideas to create a vision of what futuristic/advanced science and technology might look like, and how people might respond to it. In doing so, it ends up taking the social and political temperature of the time and place in which it's created.

As such, it's very, very common for scholars to analyze sci-fi media through this lens; even Frankenstein, arguably the first science fiction novel ever written, is often interpreted as reflecting cultural fears regarding swiftly advancing science and technology during the early stages of the industrial revolution. The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951) is another great, very blatant example of how sci-fi and politics can interact. In this movie, a Jesus-like alien ascends to Earth during the Cold War to warn the human race about their imminent nuclear annihilation. It seems corny to us now, but it's actually a great movie and I would highly reccomend it. It's rumored that the US Department of Defense read the script and Did Not Like It because the themes were too anti-war.

In other words, despite often being viewed as too “pop,” too goofy, and too unserious to have any deep meaning, pretty much any scifi story can be analyzed within an inch of its life using a meta social/political lens. It's not the only way to interpret sci-fi, but it's by far the most common. One must simply ask, “what does this vision of science, technology, and/or the future say about us as we are now?”

But anyway. Doctor Who. Disclaimer: I haven't watched the classic series so I'll focus on 2005 onward (still post-colonial so it still holds up, lol). If you've seen Classic and you'd like to chip in, please do.

Genre-wise, Doctor Who is more-or-less a space-western, a subgenre of sci-fi that incorporates Western elements—exploring new frontiers, engaging with unfamiliar civilizations, rogue figures, etc. Star Trek is the peak example of this, but there are many, many others.

Of course, the Western genre is dripping with colonialism due to its historical setting of the American West, and the racist depictions of Indigenous peoples. Space-westerns, consequently, also tend to address colonial topics. Sometimes space westerns are just as racist as normal westerns, but sometimes they use the genre reflexively, to question colonial ideals. A more progressive space-western might be more willing to “humanize” the alien cultures they meet, asking questions like, "how does one ethically engage with foreign societies?" or "When is it appropriate to intervene in a conflict?" etc.

Althought these kinds of questions come up regularly in Doctor Who, especially regarding its anti-war messaging (Time War etc.). These themes become doubly interesting when you use them to inform your interpretation of The Doctor, both as a character and as a symbol.

Consider this: The Doctor is the embodiment of an ancient and immensely powerful being with a bloody history. Their kill-count is quite literally somewhere in the quadrillions. Although they are a self-proclaimed pacifist, they are still constantly a perpetrator of death and destruction throughout the series. The Doctor, despite repeatedly and loudly choosing peace, can never seem to keep their hands clean of chaos and suffering. Doctor Who is about an entity that destroys everything they touch, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. As an allegory for grappling with the legacy of British imperialism, I'd say it's pretty on the nose.

In this sense, not only is Doctor Who a show about colonialism, it is also a show about identity in the wake of colonialism. It's even in the name: "Doctor Who?" Who is the Doctor? What is their responsibility to the universe? What does it mean to be ancient and powerful and drenched in the blood of millions? How do they move on, become better, without falling into the same traps? What does it mean to be British?

These questions come up over and over throughout the new series, from the destruction of Gallifrey, to the Timelord Victorious, to A Good Man Goes to War, the Flux (arguably), and many, many other smaller plotlines I could mention. Even in the latest series with Ncuti Gatwa, the focus on adoption and family is in a similar vein—where does the Doctor come from? What does it even mean to be “from” a place? How much do your origins truly contribute to who you are and who you become?

How the companions fall within this framework is also interesting; if the Doctor is a stand-in for the nation as an entity, then the Doctor's companion, the everyday British person, is the stand-in for the populace. The companions are ever-changing, ever-evolving, constantly renegotiating their relationship with the Doctor. The companion's ultimate challenge is to find how they fit into the narrative of the Doctor's life, and try their best to come out the other end with a happy ending (ha).

Of course, Doctor Who is owned by the BBC, meaning it is quite literally nationally subsudized TV. As a result, althought the show is actually VERY critical in some places, the Doctor is usually ultimately sympathetic; their good intentions tend to forgive a lot of the problems they've caused. The companion is usually charmed by the Doctors' seemingly endless tragedy of a life. This is a country's state-owned media company working with it's own self-image--it's inherently a work of self-reflection, and perhaps of self-obsession, too.

It would be easy to be cynical about Doctor Who as a product of the BBC, which is state-funded (but notably not owned or directly controlled by the government!). However, I tend to think that just writing it off as propaganda because of this is doing the show a disservice. Yes, there is an inherent privilege and self-centeredness to endlessly forgiving the Doctor, but that's also kind of the whole point; it's a show about coming to terms with one's horrible past. It's a show about learning to formulate a new sense of self. To demand that Doctor Who to be less self-obsessed, to not be about British identity when it is in fact a British show for Brits about Brits, is just a bit unrealistic.

Instead, I choose to believe that Doctor Who can and does use its privilege for good more often than not. The creators tend to be very progressive (as sci-fi so often is) and they can get away with a lot of very progressive messages in the guise of a silly sci-fi show for families. Most recently, I would point to s14e3: Boom, s14e5: Dot and Bubble as examples of thinly veiled rants about the evils of capitalism, war, racism, social media, etc. To ignore or dismiss Doctor Who because it has some form of institutional backing would be doing the actual stories and writers a disservice.

Finally, let me leave you with one last point; One consistancy throughout the new series that I find very charming is the positive effect the companions always have on the Doctor. Companions come and go, which is sad, but they're each special in their own little way, and they each change the Doctor, wearing them down a little at a time. The Doctor is consistently at their worst when they are alone, removed from the people that make them want to be better.

Very often the companion's parting message for the Doctor is "don't be alone.” This can be extrapolated to mean: don't forget we exist. Don't forget to be kind. Even if you can't help your legacy, even if you can't wash the blood off your hands, you can always keep striving to be better. Keep someone around to remind you to be better. And the Doctor, more often than not, does. Because ultimately it is the companions, us the people, that make the Doctor who they are.

It’s this special brand of relentless optimism, this indomitable belief in the goodness of people and the power of that goodness that always brings me back to Doctor Who, one way or another, despite all its flaws.

Edit 11/29: corrected some info about the BBC per the comments!

[bremser]

Matthew Barney’s Self-Lubricating Frames

A small, lingering question I’ve had for 20 years: what is a “self-lubricating frame”? At the Guggenheim "Cremaster" exhibit and later exhibits, I wondered about this phrase on the label cards of Barney’s film stills, with custom frames, they are described as “chromogenic print in self-lubricating frame.” Perhaps easily answered, but because I wasn’t holding a phone connected to the internet in the museum back then, never answered.

Recently I went to a screening of Matthew Barney’s “Cremaster 3” (2002), with a Q&A between Barney and Martine Syms. Nostalgia lured me to Santa Monica, as I haven’t seen the complete 3-hour film since seeing the entire cycle at San Francisco's Castro Theater in 2003.

While the earlier films retained a video look, "Cremaster 3" (the final film) must have been shot on one of the better HD DV formats of the era at 24P, because it looks very filmic, the degraded 35mm print we watched certainly contributed to that vibe.

If you are new to Barney’s work, his long-term projects like "Cremaster" have sculptural and architectural aspects. Some sculptures could be construed as props and parts of a set for performance. In a gallery setting they are firmly sculpture. A film of the performance becomes its own highly edited and crafted artifact, which is then used in the spaces that exhibit the objects. 

How do framed photographs fit into this system? As with the films, they are artifacts of the performance, a Barney exhibit might have the sculpture (often quite large) in the center of a gallery space, with the framed photographs on the walls, in the same way a video monitor might be on a wall with the dangling headphones.

Barney cites "Cremaster" as beginning in 1994, but this framed football magazine is from 1991, with what became the Cremaster logo applied in the center. This example suggests these framed photographs exist as collectables with some connection to how a sports or music fan collects still images of action, or a cinema fan would collect a production still.

Along with vaseline or beeswax, self-lubricating plastic as used in sculpture or framed photographs can be considered one of Barney's core materials. Was it selected due to the fact it resembles beeswax? Here's another 1991 example, with a black and white silver print.

The "Cremaster"-era prints themselves are exquisitely lit and printed, mostly color, many seem to be photographed by Michael James O’Brien, though I don't recall ever seeing his name on a museum or gallery label. The photographer is like the fabricator of the frame, a craftsperson Barney hires to execute the object. My recollection is they are printed luxuriously matte, which works well with the creamy frames. The "Cremaster 3" prints are of larger dimensions that became popular at the fin de siècle with Gursky, or more relevant to Barney as his own lead actor, the portraits of Rineke Dijkstra. These are titled film stills, the convention of the Cremaster stills seems to be “movie : subject.” (e.g. Cremaster I: Orchidella).

My memory of the framed Cremaster photographs is that they were of somewhat uniform size and look: a creamy beeswax plastic, in line with the other sculpture you might see in his exhibits, no sharp edges, but not particularly different from other plastics you might encounter in our modern wonderland of PFAS.  When I first read "self-lubricating frame," I assumed it was partially a joke, a reference to petroleum jelly/ vaseline, one of Barney’s other preferred materials. Or perhaps lubricated condoms.

Looking online at the auction houses, it appears my memory was way off, there were many variations in size, shape and even color. Ireland is a core part of the "Cremaster" mythology, and this "Cremaster 4" print is in delightful Shamrock Shake green.

After that screening of "Cremaster 3," I went on the typical bender of reading old blog posts and writings on the topic. There’s a 2004 doc streaming on Kanopy (the library video app, excellent for art documentaries), where the NYT art critic Michael Kimmelman walks through the Guggenheim Cremaster exhibit with Barney answering questions, explaining references, personal and mythical, cutting to scenes from the relevant films. About nine minutes into the doc, my question is answered. Barney explains about a sculpture they are looking at: “[it's] high density polyethylene, from the same family as Teflon is from, has a resistance to friction. And in that way it’s a self-lubricating plastic, in that it generates its own lubrication.” 

OK! So "self-lubricating" is a description for a class of industrial plastic products, which Barney has fabricated his frames of and adopted the phrase. "Self-lubricating plastic frame" is more accurate if more mundane sounding. There's no liquid aspect to it, but if we were able to rub at it, in a repetitive fashion, could we perhaps notice it was different? It's a specific material - not a condom joke, or even like using the word "giclée" to gussy up "ink jet" print.

This material is described as:

solid lubricants are embedded as microscopic particles in millions of tiny chambers in the fiber-reinforced material. From these chambers, the plastic bushings release tiny amounts of solid lubricant during movement.

Another description of how it works once molded into an industrial form:

The bearing achieves this by transferring microscopic amounts of material to the mating surface, creating a film that lubricates and reduces friction over the entire length of the rail or shaft. 

When you read this and see some of the examples of how it's used in actual products (Linear Bearing for 8mm rod pictured above), this wasn't selected by Barney just because it resembles beeswax, but because conceptually it's a classic Barney material. A plastic, honeycombed with microscopic bits of lubricant! There's an added tension looking at these objects, knowing the material is designed for friction, but will likely never experience it. After the organic forms are molded, the films are shot, the stills are taken, the photographs mounted in the frame, they will only ever be handled by people wearing white gloves.

 (Previously on the topic of artist's frames: Robert Mapplethorpe’s “Kitchen Sink", 2016)

[saintsenara]

For the 2024 review asks, I’ll go for:

3–I know you’re a mono-fandom girlie, so I’m curious about other pieces of media—fandom or otherwise (published novels, movies, etc.)—that inspired you this year, influenced your writing, or shaped your thoughts on the original text.

30–I always love hearing about your upcoming projects and ideas!

thank you very much for the ask, pal! and thank you for getting the ball rolling on the 2024 review ask game.

3. what piece of media inspired you the most?

my partner spent august re-watching the thick of it, which clearly set a brain worm going. "farewell our shit and useless servant" made it into both dum spiro spero and the war of the roses, and i've done some subluxation-wrangling specifically in order to get this into an upcoming chapter:

and subluxation leads onto the fact that i've been thinking a lot this year about molly weasley.

i've always been a molly defender, and the older i get the more obvious it is to me that a lot of the fandom need to examine the [internalised] misogyny in their reading of her - especially as she's someone who's primarily seen in the books in a domestic context.

i've said this elsewhere, but molly plays one of the most important roles in the resistance because she keeps the order actually functioning. and it's really struck me - having spent a lot of time with the text of order of the phoenix as part of writing the war of the roses - that sirius is the person who shows the least respect for the value of this caring work.

sirius is getting over that in the fic. but i've also been thinking a lot about molly's own view of her work - and, especially, how it must tie into the fact that her decision to join the order in the second war is directly connected to her brothers' deaths in the first.

shortly before christmas, i saw this - by the food critic, grace dent - which is a really evocative piece of writing on food and memory:

and which reminded me of an older piece of hers - written before her father's death - which covered similar themes:

the most pertinent bit of which - in case the link doesn't work outside europe - is this:

Over the last six years I have lost my father. Not in one fell swoop which anyone can dispatch a wreath to. No, in tiny incremental steps. His brain gradually eroding. My already tiny family unit retracts hourly. Over these years, the only place my dad has agreed to eat at is the local Wetherspoons, close to his Lake District home. No faff, no fuss. By turn, I am majestically au fait with the big flappy menu. You know where you are with a Wetherspoons. And as time has gone on, I've been grateful for the fleeting moments, sat eating Balti on Curry Club Thursday where both of us know where we were.

molly makes such a good character through whom to examine the way food and grief intertwine, and i'm determined to write something on the topic.

and then finally - and, i will accept, fairly pretentiously - i was really struck while recently re-reading lolita by the sheer number of parallels between the child tom riddle and dolores haze.

30. what would you like to write next year?

well... i have a murder mystery to finish...

[glitterypin]

less than two hours left 'till 2025!

I might as well do a recap of 2024 as it goes away..

Music I listened to a lot:

Fivos Delivorias (my favourite Greek musician, same as last year. I went to five of his shows this year and had tickets for a sixth one that I didn't go to because I was depressed that day)

Peter Capaldi (feeling wildly blessed that Peter Capaldi's taste in music and mine overlap so greatly because it means the music he makes is exactly the type of music I like to listen to. So, I reckon I must have listened to his 2021 album over 200 times this year and I loved every second of it.)

David Bowie (being single for the first time in over eight years reminded me of the feelings of isolation and other-worldliness that first drew me to Bowie's music when I was 19. So, I've been returning to it a lot since the summer and it does feel like coming home a lot.)

And a lot of contemporary Greek indie music, which has been great for me because all my life I've been mostly into artists who have died or retired ages ago that this is the first time I feel like what's happening around me is relevant to me. I go to live gigs, I listen to new releases, I talk about new music with friends, it's an amazing feeling.

Favourite films I've seen this year:

Letterboxd says I watched 123 new films this year. Let's look at my highest rated:

This reflects my year in films perfectly. A lot of TV Specials from shows I watched this year (Doctor Who, The Thick of It), stuff my faves from last year were in (Peter Capaldi, Michael Sheen and even one Phyllis Logan right at the top) and a measly TWO recent mainstream films.

My friends and family keep asking me if I've seen this or that which was just released or tell me "I want to go to the movies, what should I watch" and I cannot stress this enough but I have no fucking clue. I don't care about the new films that are coming out. I don't feel like watching them. I want to watch Peter Capaldi's entire filmography and a fuckton of old british TV shows. My fucking ringtone is the opening theme of Lovejoy. Ask me about that if you want me to give an opinion.

TV Shows I watched this year:

2024, the year I watched Doctor Who.

Yeah, this is what stands out the most. I got into Doctor Who, like a decade too late but whatever. I love this show now, with all my heart.

Other stuff I watched and loved this year include mostly tv shows Peter Capaldi was in.

The Thick Of It (I love it with everything that I am, Malcolm Tucker is my favourite comfort character atm and the joy it brings me cannot be put into words)

The Devil's Hour (seasons 1 and 2 and season 2 blew my fucking mind away, I'm still not over it and i can't wait for season 3!)

Criminal Record (second half of it was amazing, also looking forward to the next season)

Neverwhere (a 90s classic which I loved)

The Crow Road (a bit slow but charming and kind of eccentric in the way it approaches the concept of genre - as in: from the wrong direction)

Prime Suspect 3 (more like a long movie but I wanted to mention it because it's one of my favourite Capaldi performances ever)

Lovejoy (started it for Phyllis Logan, am currently somewhere in season 3. It's beautifully vintage and so easy to follow along without paying too much attention and every once in a while it's actually fucking hilarious).

Downton Abbey (started with a lot of steam (also because of Phyllis Logan), I watched the first season in like a day but then dropped to a very relaxed pace of "every once in a while". It's the kind of thing that is hard to get into on a daily basis but once you do, it's easy to keep going, know what I mean? It may take me two weeks to decide to watch another episode and then end up watching three in a row. I do look forward to continuing with it in the new year!)

The Way (the three-part TV show Michael Sheen made of revolution coming to Wales. I meant to rewatch but haven't yet and it's been many months since I saw it but I remember loving it.)

Work I've done this year:

2024 started with me smack dab in the middle of a project of the shitshow variety, pulling long hours, putting out mediocre work and having to be very available for very little reward. A great learning experience! For the first time in my life I felt that "if I quit this job... they're all fucking fucked" - and lemme tell you, it felt good to know this, even if the work was shit.

I worked on three different projects during the summer. One of them didn't go very well. Another one I basically dropped out of midway through and came to blows with my coworker and mentor and we almost stopped being friends over it. I learned not to spread myself too thin.

The third project went amazing and I loved working on it and it's a wonderful precedent of "hey, work can be nice and humane, did you kno" but since it ended I've been unemployed.

Let's not dwell on that right now.

Life Events!

Lot of stuff happened in therapy, at work, with friends, with family. No point in going through it all, most of it isn't even particularly pleasant or interesting.

Three things are my main takeaways from this year:

In July, after 3000 days together (bit over 8 years if you're wondering), I broke up with my boyfriend. Breathing has been easier since then, despite the sadness of missing his company sometimes. I'm very proud of myself for finally deciding to do it and for how I did it. And I can't wait to see what the following years have in store for me.

Fan communities are easily dismissed as little more than hobbies but sometimes you just find yourself in one that is different and you meet people who make your life better. And this happened to me this year. I made the Peter Capaldi Brainrot Center and got to hang out with a bunch of cool people on Tumblr (won't tag you all, there's a lot of you, you know who you all are and I love you to bits) and yeah, the biggest part of it is talking about how handsome and fuckable Peter Capaldi is but I can't help but feel an honest connection when I shout at a bunch of strangers "please help cheer me up because my dad was a dick to me" and half a dozen people jump in with PCap photos and gifs and words of comfort for me. I love that I got to have this this year.

A return of creativity. I started drawing and have visibly improved (even if I'm still shit at it, I'm better than before and that means the world to me). I started writing. It's short, mediocre fanfics but I'm finally writing. And I'm editing for fun! And I just love that I'm finally being creative and artistic and finding my voice and my place in this world...

And that is a wrap on my 2024! The year of the Doctor, of Tumblr and of Finally Letting Go Of Stuff That Used To Weigh Me Down.

Here's to the next one. Happy 2025!

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/17/2024: COMMUNION (1989)

I promise I'm going somewhere with this, but:

I wrote this thing recently about I KNOW WHO KILLED ME, a movie I really love but that I have certainly told people is astoundingly bad. I mean I have evangelized for it heavily and it has brought me a lot of pleasure, but I also wasn't thinking about it very flexibly. I often give the general public a hard time about imposing literalist rules on movies that have ambitions that differ from, like, an essentially hygienic and rule-abiding Hollywood release, but I'm guilty of this too now and again. So when I sat down to write this thing for CBR, I began to realize that I really didn't want to say anything snarky about I KNOW WHO KILLED ME, and then by the final draft my whole attitude about it had shifted--in part because of interviews I read with the director and the writer (one is linked in there) about what they really intended. It's a mistake to watch that movie and think that nobody knew they were doing something campy, surreal, even magic-realist at times, even funny-on-purpose occasionally. You can argue about whether it is completely successful, but it does seem like viewers at large (ahem) said, "We decided that you were trying to make a regular old erotic thriller, and this is much too weird and ridiculous and abstract for that, so therefore you suck." Which is not only unfair, but it limits what you, the viewer, get to think about and experience.

If you've seen Philippe Mora's COMMUNION, then you may have guessed where I'm going with this. This incomparably bonkers adaptation of Whitley Strieber's credible and complex abductee memoir was pretty much panned and forgotten about, except by people who are happy to tell you how zany it is--and those people are not wrong, but I think there's more to it, perhaps especially in its zaniest moment. Christopher Walken plays Whitley, who struggles to acknowledge and accepted that he is being routinely kidnapped and experimented on by aliens; sometimes his suppressed memories have the quality of a dream whose abstraction mutes the trauma of what really happened--say, when he sees himself from the outside, and his body has been replaced by a large toy. But at the same time, his direct, conscious experiences become stranger and stranger, perhaps in proportion to his efforts to consciously control them.

For the climactic abduction, Whitley dresses in a sharp suit and fedora--clothes that confer confidence, that he must think will help him dominate the situation--and greets the aliens with a conciliatory handshake and other honorific gestures...and they just make fun of him. Then comes the notorious dance sequence, where bossa nova starts playing and they all party (I think, I don't have a good grasp of latin subgenres, don't hit me), and Whitley hangs loose, going with the flow, still clinging to the idea that he can handle the abduction with grace and dignity. The aliens respond by scaring him in a bizarre new way. They're not going to let him play along.

Whitley is confronted with his doppelganger, a sinister figure masquerading as a magician who mockingly repeats everything Whitley has said during the abductions: his pleas for mercy, his angry threats, his attempts at distancing humor. He then confronts Whitley with something we also see in FIRE IN THE SKY--that the stereotypical smooth, impassive alien face is actually a mask that hides an unthinkable horror--but Whitley doesn't flinch. He finally starts to grasp that this is all an illusion: "It's like a Chinese box...you're not going to let me see it, are you?" The alien magician confirms as much; that for whatever reason, humanity will never be allowed to see this phenomenon for what it is.

Whitley Strieber wrote the screenplay for COMMUNION, and while these scenes don't transpire in his book, they do reflect the essentially irrational, incomprehensible nature of the abduction experience. Every time you try to give it a name, it turns into something else, mocking your petty attempts at rationalizing. In the book, Whitley entertains a huge number of possible explanations, giving the lowest priority to literal animals driving literal space vehicles. He relates his experiences to ancient folklore, religious epiphanies, and neurological phenomena (he doesn't have the vocabulary in 1987, but the DMT machine elf phenomena would fit what he's getting it). Here is my favorite passage:

"If mine is a real experience of visitors, it is among the deepest and most extensive as yet recorded, and I hope it will be of value if they emerge. If it is an experience of something else, then I warn you: this 'something else' is a power within us, maybe some central power of the soul, and we had best try to understand it before it overcomes objective efforts to control it."

This has been my very elaborate way of saying that people deprive themselves of greater possibilities when they see a really weird movie and assume that it is simply failing at the aims of an ordinary movie. Too often, people assume that such high weirdness could only be the result of a big mistake made by idiots or lunatics--that it couldn't possibly have its own unique goals. A lot of people have a peculiar resistance to the idea that something that is genuinely weird could be deliberately weird, and by extension they can't accept that something that is deliberately weird can simultaneously be deliberately funny. And if they can't get that far, they definitely won't get that humor has different purposes and effects; it's not always about laffs, sometimes it's critical, sometimes it's harmful, sometimes it interferes with your sense of reality and insults the accepted rules. There's a purpose to all that. And if you still don't believe me, here are some amusing facts about director Philippe Mora that may shed a helpful light on why COMMUNION is the way it is.

"Experiment on a rat presumed," synthetic polymer paint on composition board. Philippe Mora, 1970.

[multidimensionalguidance]

The Astrology Behind: “The Chronicles of Narnia” Pt.1

Services

I recently went on a rabbit hole reading all about these books and movies, which honestly started out as boredom and a tad of nostalgia. It had been so long since I watched any of them that I could not recall the rich, mystical and esoteric history behind all of this material.

I'll be breaking down the writer and the characters astrological placements along with some interesting insights as well for entertainment. So, major spoiler alert for those who haven't read or seen the movies. At any case, this will be a long series! Enjoy <3

The Author, C. S. Lewis, has a really interesting chart that screams wizard and esoteric connoisseur. He was often hailed as the ‘Father of Modern Fantasy,’ and has been regarded as one of the most versatile authors in terms of topics and genres.

One of the most noticeable things to me was his Scorpio placements which indicate the depth behind his stories and the occult messages in them as well. Anuradha is a sign that has heavy themes of friendship, alliances, and devotion. As well, the darker side of this nakshatra comes with its Saturn influence where the native must first experience betrayal of trust, broken friendships, isolation in order to attain real long lasting connections. In the series these are all highlighted topics with the Narnians building a strong bond not just with the original queens and kings, but also with all the other humans who wanted to aid. It was all about joining forces towards a common good and being devoted to the magic of faith.

His rich and vivid imagination was most definitely triggered by that Moon conjunct Neptune. I think his moon is most likely in sidereal Gemini rather than Taurus, simply because of his profession as a writer. His intuition and creative abilities were palpable with this conjunction, regardless of sign.

Neptune creates illusions and delusions which can be detrimental if there's no tool to release it, and Lewis obviously knew exactly where to pour it all. There's a good chance that a lot of his writings were channeled since this conjunction gives natural psychic abilities, and many spiritual experiences as well.

His Moon was also conjunct Pluto, which not only brings many deep transformative spiritual lessons, but a tumultuous inner world as well. It's possible that writing was his safe hiding place from all the difficulties he experienced at home and/or with his mother.

In the movie we become familiar with the children who in the middle of war had to be separated from their mother in order to survive. They were left with their innocence and imagination to connect with the new world that was thrown upon them. It was only after they entered Narnia that their inner and external world enmeshed into an almost Alice in Wonderland sort of experience. Bizarre, visceral, colorful, and deeply transcendental. The plot and all of themes match very well with the authors life.

He was also well known for his religious interest and writings as well, which is expected of someone with Mercury in Sagittarius, specifically in a Ketu nakshatra which represents roots, be it of a plant or our own. Mula natives have a strong connection to their past and their ancestors, hence why for Lewis continuing to share/communicate/write about his faith taught by his family was an essential part of him. This nakshatra also loves to act like detectives, searching and digging in the past, like an archaeologist.

It is also note worthy to mention that Mercury was conjunct Rahu and these individuals often have an endless hunger for knowledge. It is almost an obsession to them, which is on theme for Rahu's shenanigans. Aside from this, the physic abilities are also strongly present. So, overall, Lewis was very much connected to the ether and his "imagination" was actually pulling from a deep well of wisdom passed down by his ancestors and spirit guides who wanted to use him as a channel for sharing hidden truths, even if it was under his religious scope.

Now, I'll continue with mentioning that the seven (7) books were each inspired by a planet. As mentioned earlier Lewis interest for magic and the cosmos was as deep as a blackhole. He strongly believed in Astrology despite the opposition that existed in his own religion.

He mentioned in non fiction books how Astrology was never an issue with the church until the Copernicus model came around putting emphasis on the Sun, which has been historically associated with God in many different religions. Due to this and other reasons most theologist deemed prediction or worship of planets as a blasphemy.

Lewis’ inclusion of the Seven Heavens avoided all three of these heretical dangers. As such, Lewis’ use of medieval cosmology falls well outside the scope of what modern-day Christians would condemn as astrology, which allowed him to use it without guilt or shame.

The planet Lewis assigned to each book is as follows:

Jove (Jupiter): The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Mars: Prince Caspian

Sol (the Sun): The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Luna (the Moon): The Silver Chair

Mercury: The Horse and his Boy

Venus: The Magician’s Nephew

Saturn: The Last Battle

I've only seen the first three movies, and I can definitely see each planet reflected into all of them. Jupiter in the first with all of the expansion of the magic, the war, traveling far from home and to another world, etc.

In the second movie, it was very Martian with the invasion of humans aggression and Narnians essentially becoming either extinct or pulled away from their higher consciousness to become like any other animal. It was also the heavy military ideals, the difficulty in both main masculine characters with controlling their dominance, etc.

In the last one the whole plot revolves around the two youngest siblings who still had a connection to "Aslan" (the Sun or Jesus archetype) returning to fight against a dark mist that was haunting Narnians. They had to go on a journey of recovering 7 magical swords and using them to return the light back into the lands. At the end, Aslan gives the characters the option of returning back into his world with them since Narnia didn't need of their protection anymore. The whole plot was centered around bringing light, truth, and stability.

As you can tell this series has a lot of knowledge and spiritual insights hiding behind the cover of a child's story so I will separate it into several parts. In the next one, I will go over the main character's charts and their astrological association, connection to author and books as well. Thank you for reading!

[novelmonger]

Back at the beginning of this year, I made a silly New Year's resolution to watch a movie made in the year I was born. I had a few possibilities in mind, but just the other day, I happened across a movie I saw when I was a kid and mostly forgot about, but it's been on my mind lately as I've been thinking about one of my original stories. Then what do you know? I discover that it came out the year I was born! At least according to IMdB, which only has release dates for Australia and the Netherlands, which is a different year than what it says on YouTube, where I'm watching it, but whatever, we're counting it!

It's a TV movie (I assume?) called On Our Own, about four siblings who have recently been orphaned and run away because they're afraid of being split up if they're sent to foster homes. I know it's been at least a small unconscious inspiration for my superpowered siblings story (though a much bigger inspiration for that story was Escape to Witch Mountain, since that's about orphans who have supernatural powers), so I was curious to watch it again with an adult's eyes.

So without further ado, here are some thoughts I had while watching:

How is it that this movie, which I must have seen on TV one time when I was 6 or 8 or something, maybe at my grandparents' house (or it might have been from the library or something), still feels so familiar, like a movie I grew up watching over and over again? Like, if you'd asked me before I started watching how the movie begins, I probably couldn't have told you, but as soon as the first shot of an ambulance driving through the streets came on, I was like, "YES! OF COURSE! I REMEMBER THIS!"

Wow, the acting is terrible in this XD Not just the kids, who can be somewhat excused for lack of experience, but none of the adults are that great either ^^'

Even though these siblings are two boys and two girls, while my story is about one brother and three sisters, I can definitely see an influence on my characters and how they interact. Particularly in the older two siblings, who end up kind of having to be de facto parents to their much younger siblings.

I get that this is a movie intended for kids to watch and understand, so the writing is pretty blunt, but yikes, the adults have no tact when discussing the kids' future and how they'll have to be split up, never see their dog again, etc.

When escaping the orphanage, Kate hands Mitch the suitcase, and he accidentally drops it to the ground several stories below. Then he immediately turns and says, "Okay, hand me Lori." I snorted XD

I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about the way they filmed the scenery shots of city streets and highways that just feels very low-budget. Even though they probably had to use a helicopter for some of them.

Uh...is every song on this soundtrack with vocals from Kidz Bop or something? <_<

The most unrealistic thing in this whole movie may be that Mitch can drive a stick-shift Volkswagen beetle across two states with only the very occasional issue when he's only driven in the parking lot one time before -_- (Not to mention that that tiny car has enough gas to get them as far as they go before having to get more.)

Okay, wait wait wait. They only have $9 to get them where they need to go, and Mitch comes out of the gas station with this big brown paper bag full of food that cost $8? Like...yeah, he said he didn't get Twinkies or plastic cups, but...wait, how much is that in today-dollars? *calculates* $19.32 Okaaaayyy....

Yay, obviously over-dubbed little girl who sounds completely out of place and not like it's actually Lori at all.

"Of all the turkeys in the world, how'd I get hung up with this hamster going all the way to Arizona?" - What kind of line is that??? XD

Also, like...these are police chasing the kids, right? Yet they're like, "Oh no, we only have a ZIP Code from a torn envelope [at least, that's where I'm assuming they got it from], and all we know is that there's someone they call "Uncle Jack." But we don't know what his last name is! There is absolutely no way that the police could look up public records and find out what their mother's maiden name was and see if there's somebody at that ZIP Code named Jack who also has that last name!"

Random non-sequitur moment #125: "Hey, look at this old old bottle!" *no one responds and it never goes anywhere*

Okay, like the one thing I remember from this movie is Mitch falling asleep at the wheel. Guess that made a huge impression on me, like a cautionary tale. But why did he keep driving so far until he hit a cactus??? Ever heard of brakes, kid?!

Wow, watching this as an adult really drives home how completely helpless these kids are. I'm sure when I watched this movie as a kid, Mitch and Kate seemed so old and responsible and capable. But now, watching Kate break down because they have no money and no food, and with the car crashed and not starting, all I can think is how young they all look.

This framing story with the grandma making a cake or whatever and getting the whole story told to her on the phone is completely unnecessary, but funny in a very stereotypical sort of way XD (But yikes, I don't wanna see her phone bill at the end of this!) And lol, she doesn't even take her burning cake out of the oven, just turns it down and leaves it in there!

This movie feels like its message is "As long as you're desperate, anything is excusable." Just judging from the triumphant "we're gonna make it!" music that plays every time they steal a vehicle -_- Aaaand not thirty seconds later, he runs into a conveniently placed...stick? that conveniently stabs the car and makes in unusable. Because that's a thing that often happens.

And then Travis puts a quarter in a slot machine and wins the jackpot??? What are you trying to convey to impressionable kids, movie?!

HOLEY SLICES OF BREAD, THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY! Two bullies come after the kids, trying to steal their winnings, Mitch threatens to throw a rock at them with the most unconvincing threat in the world, then they're scuffling around like these two guys couldn't take all four of them with their hands behind their backs, it's intercut jarringly with Peggy driving up in a truck full of sheep...and then out of nowhere, she pulls out a gun?!?!?

*pointing gun* "I know how to use this!" Uh...yeah, real convincing. Still, can't blame those guys for backing away slowly from the crazy lady with the wild eyes.

Oh, okay, it wasn't a real gun. I was about to get upset about gun safety when she just tossed it onto the ground at a kid's feet.

And...the car is magically fixed now? They just drive off no problem? Okay, who cares about continuity anyway?

OH MY GOODNESS LORI IS ADORABLE :3

Oh, okay, the car is not perfectly fine. But it sure took a long time for the smoking engine to become a problem again.

What a cascade of revelations one after another. Jack isn't really their uncle (so I guess it wouldn't have worked for the police to look up their mother's maiden name after all), he's got a...girlfriend? with a son, and their father is in prison. I wonder what for? Will we ever find out?

That was the most awkward little fist-fight ever. It was like...sluggish? No tension, no sense of danger. Like...oh noooo, he grabbed the carrot. Oh nooooo, he splashed some water on him. And then Travis has to be super gross and grab horse manure and throw it at him. Just...why?

"If I wasn't bleeding all over the place, I'd clean your plow!" Is that a thing people say??? XD

"Tell you the truth, it's something I've been wanting to do for quite some time." Okay, I had to play it back like three times, but I finally realized that Jack is saying he wanted to bust his girlfriend's kid's nose and throw manure at him. Uh...okay then ._.

Aha, the bus! This is the other part of the movie I actually remember, where Mitch somehow knows how to drive a whole freaking bus when he's supposedly never driven before.

Why is the guy selling bus tickets giving me such creepy vibes??? <_<

*Four children drive off in a bus* Peggy: "Oh no." Super convincing, lady.

Really? The police are too slow to catch them, even when they stop the bus so Travis can hop out and get their dog, because the policeman accidentally got into the back seat instead of the driver's seat? Literally when would that ever happen??? And then they just drive right through a stack of...banana crates? I don't even know what those were. And then he doesn't even notice there's a one-lane bridge ahead and ends up in the creek. The kid is better at this than you, Mr. Detective!

Police cars swiftly gaining on them from behind, a roadblock ahead, a freaking prop plane touches down right in front of them, and what is Mitch's response? An eyeroll.

Oh, okay, now he's crying. Poor kid has had a rough day or two.

Whoa, attack of the over-dubbed Mitch whose voice suddenly got a lot deeper!

"I'm a real strong worker, you'll see!" *Uncle Jack gives him a blank stare* A+ acting all around, fellas.

Wow. The police explain how, legally, they can't just let the kids stay with someone who's not a relative in a completely different state, but then he says, "Come to my house and have some barbecue and we'll work this out." AND THEY GO FOR IT. Did the people who wrote this script know the first thing about how laws work?

Oh, okay. They did have to go back to LA and get it worked out in the court. And Mitch and Kate had to do community service to make up for all the laws they broke.

"They must have had a pretty bad example from their alcoholic father." Okay, movie, sheesh, you don't have to yell in our ears that alcoholism is bad. We get the picture.

Why on earth did I remember the last scene so clearly? As soon as the grandma starts putting the little decorations on the cake, it was like I remembered every single word everyone said. "Because I'm a grandma!"

Huh. A weirdly long stretch of black screen after the credits are done, but the music isn't quite finished. Usually you just fade out at that point, you know.... (I'm not exaggerating when I say there's like a whole verse and chorus left after the credits where you're just staring at nothing.)

Well, all in all, this was a fun trip down memory lane. I'm glad I managed to track it down again, and see some of the ingredients in the idea soup for my own story of four siblings running away. But...it's not a very good movie, all things considered XD

[summerlycoris]

Is It Really A Birthday Party If You Wake Up In A Hospital Bed?

Chapter 4- And everyone was right about you.

Previous chapter- Tumblr link

AO3 link- current chapter

It was the next day, and the police were here to see her.

One of them had the biggest, bushiest black beard that contrasted so much against his pale skin. The other was short, thin, and tanned. He looked tired already.

Mom was sitting beside her bed, as usual. Andy was standing off to her left, muttering about not ordering any pork sausages under her breath.

Wait, did I do something illegal? Am I gonna be arrested?

Cassie could feel the blood drain out of her face. Mom held her hand to reassure her. "Cassie, they just want to know a bit about how you ended up in the pizzaplex. You're not in any trouble, Starbright." She turned to the officers. "Right, gentlemen?"

"Oh no, don't worry. We just want to know what happened to you on the tenth and eleventh of August, Miss Oliveira-Mathers. My name is Officer Dan, and this is Lieutenant Murray." Mr bushy-beard- Officer Dan- said.

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek. "Umm. My name is Cassie. Hi?"

"Hello." He said with a wave. Lieutenant Murray waved too, then went back to focusing on his notebook as the Officer spoke up again. "Cassie, it must have been really scary at the pizzaplex when you went that night. Dark, and dangerous. You must have been really brave." He paused for a second, as if waiting for her to say something. Her mouth felt like it was full of glue, she couldn't say a word.

“It’s okay if you feel scared about it, or don’t want to talk about it right now.” The Lieutenant spoke up. “Have you seen any cool new movies recently?”

That helped get the glue out of her mouth. “Uh, not really anything new. I like watching some old movies, like…”

They spent a while talking about movies, life at home, what school was like, and what she had liked doing over summer break. Both Officer Dan and Lieutenant Murray alternated questions, laughing if she made a funny comment, and so on. Sometimes, they’d ask Mom and Andy some small questions too. Which Mom would answer as usual, and Andy would give them as little as she could get away with.

Cassie didn’t really understand all these charades- none of this has anything to do with the Pizzaplex?

Still, it did help her relax a bit. So maybe that was the goal?

Eventually though, the officer did ask about the Pizzaplex again- "Could you tell us a bit about why you were at the Pizzaplex, on the night of August tenth?"

"...I went there because I got a message from Gregory on the FazFans forum. He said he was there and that he needed help."

‘Hello Cassie- I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked. Things have been… pretty crazy for me recently. A lot has happened to me- none of it good.

‘I need to talk to you, in person. Because someone's trying to find me. If they do, they’ll hurt me. So, you need to keep me a secret. Don’t tell a soul.

‘Could you please meet me at the Pizzaplex? As soon as possible? I’ll explain everything once you get here- I'll be in the atrium, waiting for you. You’re the only one who can help me.’

She could remember sending messages back to him, pleading for more information. But he’d already gone offline by then.

In desperation, she did exactly what he had asked of her.

(‘he’, sure Cassie, sure.)

She felt like such a fool-

"Gregory? Who is he?"

Her Mom spoke up, as Cassie was jolted from her thoughts. "Gregory Miskovsky. He went missing last year. You must have files about his case- and Jemima's!"

And Dad's. Cassie thought to herself.

"Ah yes, that rings a bell. So, your friend Gregory asked you to meet at the pizzaplex. What happened after that?"

Cassie really needed to consider her words here. This whole story was a potential minefield of information that could blow up in her face. She knew she shouldn't lie to the police- or her Mom! But telling them ‘I found a mask that let me walk through walls, and needed to avoid an AR anomaly to get to Roxy Racers.’ …well that just sounds like a lie. Or like she's delusional. I guess it's only a lie by omission, though. It's not so bad.

"I, um, found a walkie talkie on the ground. He talked to me through it, and told me he was stuck under Roxy Racers. I went to Roxy Racers, and down into the sinkhole there. Then I found…" She trailed off. More mines, and these ones were set to blow. She looked at Andy. Andy seemed to get she was hiding something, and raised an eyebrow at Cassie. I'll tell you later. Please don't say anything.

Luckily for Cassie, Andy kept her mouth shut.

"What did you find, Cassie?" The lieutenant asked. Mom looked at her with concern.

She took a second to think. If that monster got out, then the police should be told about it. It was dangerous, and had tried to kill her. Had it tried to kill other people? Was that why it was stuck down there? Gregory was so scared of it following her, that he tried to… don't wanna think about that anymore.

But if she told them ‘A robot lured me in to free it, tried to kill me, and is now free to kill other people.’ She may as well dye her hair blond and practice screaming ‘IT'S HAPPENING.’ No one would believe that, and she'd get sent straight to the loony bin.

"...it wasn't even Gregory. It was… it was just a mean prank. Just some jerk pretending to be him." She said, bitterly.

She looked down the bed, down to her covered feet. Away from everyone's eyes. She hated remembering this. It just made her feel ashamed.

Mom put her hand under Cassie's chin, and drew her head back up. She looked so worried. "Do you know who it was?" She asked in a shaky whisper.

Cassie shook her head. "No. It was so dark down there… I could barely see anything." That was only a half lie- she'd remember the monster's glowing orange eyes until the day she died. "And then it chased me- so I couldn't get a good look at it."

" 'It.' Do you know what gender they were?" The officer asked. Cassie shook her head again.

"No. It… it was wearing a costume." That was a complete lie. "And I know it wasn't Gregory in there because it was way too tall to be Gregory. And it didn't sound like him, once it dropped the act."

Why am I defending Gregory here? He may not have done this, but he still tried to kill me…

The lieutenant took more notes, furiously scribbling on the pad.

“So, it chased you. What happened when it chased you, Cassie?”

She shook her head. "Nothing happened. I was able to get into an elevator before it caught me."

She hoped they'd stop questioning her there.

They didn't.

Though, the officer looked over at Mom before asking the next question. “If it had caught you, what do you think would have happened? Had they said anything to you about why they had led you there?”

She shook her head. “It didn’t tell me why it was doing this. It just tried to kill me.”

The police officers shared a look, but didn't press her about it further. Instead, changing the subject a bit.

"Okay. Now I need to ask about your injuries. They're fairly consistent with a high fall. Did something happen after you were in the elevator?"

… She could be honest and say Gregory cut the wires. Then he'd be on wanted posters instead of missing posters. She could get some justice.

But then she'd need to explain why, and that just brings her back to the minefield. She wanted to put it behind her-

"I nearly got away, but… the elevator was really old. It must've broken near the top. It took me down with it. That's why I'm … like this." The officer looked at her with pity in his eyes. She wished he wouldn’t.

“When the elevator fell, where did you end up?”

What sort of a question is that? “Back where I started.” She tried not to sound annoyed.

“Okay. But could you clarify, please?”

She clenched a fist under the sheets. “... I ‘ended up’ waking up in a collapsing elevator. If Roxy hadn’t saved me, I would’ve been buried inside it.”

Can we please stop talking about this now?

"Did Roxy get you out of the elevator? You were found in the Atrium." The lieutenant asked.

“Yeah, Roxy helped me get near the raceway, until we got stuck. Then she went to get help. I fell asleep while she was away. I think she and Eclipse got me to the Atrium?"

"I've heard of a 'Roxy', but who is Eclipse?"

Cassie was confused for a second. Oh yeah, Eclipse only appeared after I rebooted them. "Umm, you may know him better as Sun. Or Moon. They were the daycare attendant at the pizzaplex.”

The lieutenant took some more notes, before he asked. “After the elevator crashed and Roxy rescued you, did you see the person who chased you again?”

"No… kind of?" She stumbled over her words. "It wrenched the elevator door open, but that was while I was unconscious."

More looks. From the officers, and from Mom.

“... Did it try to grab you? Or do anything to you?”

She shook her head. “No, I think it thought I was already dead.” Or I'd be dead, surely… "I think it just wanted out. The grate on the roof of the elevator was removed when I came to, it must've escaped up the elevator shaft? Do they all have ladders?" She remembered the one she'd climbed at the start of her visit to the pizzaplex."

"No, they don't all have ladders. Some do, but most don't, except in the pit." He said. Cassie nodded, it had sharp claws, probably didn't need a ladder.

For a bit, everything was quiet as the lieutenant scribbled down some more notes, and everyone thought.

Eventually, the officer spoke up. "Was there anything else you think we should know, Cassie?"

She shook her head.

"Well…" said the officer, standing up and stretching. "We've had a look at your communications with 'Gregory' in that forum. We may be able to track the IP of the person who tricked you. If not, it may be hard to find a suspect, with the limited information. Is there anyone you know who might have grievances against you or" and he looked between Andy and Mom before continuing. "Anyone who could have grievances with your family?

She shook her head vigorously. She didn't want anyone innocent taking the fall for that monster. Mom also chimed in- "We don't have any enemies- none that I know of…"

Andy scoffed. "Are you guys done with the q and a yet? She's just a kid. Y'know… it was random kids in the eighties? She could've just been picked for being active in the fazfans forum or something." Then she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Stop implying it's gang related."

"...I'm sorry for stepping on any toes." He said, looking at Andy. "Cassie, I'll leave you with some advice- next time an online friend asks you to meet them somewhere, make sure to bring an adult. And don't meet them in abandoned buildings. If you were any older, you could get charged for trespassing. If you think a friend's stuck in an abandoned building, call us straight away. We can get them out safely, we don't want you to get hurt again."

She felt her eyes grow watery with embarrassment. Yeah, I've already learnt all that the hard way! She nodded, looking at her Roxy plushie. She clenched it in her hands.

"She has a personal phone now, so she'll never be in a situation like that again." Said Mom. "Thank you for your time, officers."

"Actually, Mrs Oliveira-Mathers, is it okay to talk to you separately? We could step out into the hall…"

Mom looked worried, then fixed her face. "Oh, of course. Cassie, I'll be back shortly, okay?" Then she left with the officers, to the hallway outside the PICU. Cassie was left with Andy. She could hear the noises of them and Mom talking, but couldn't pick up any words.

"You okay, Cassie?" Andy asked, coming over to the bed.

"Yeah. It was just… a lot."

Andy slumped herself against the bed rails on the left side, leaning her head on them. "You can say that again. They were so smarmy."

Cassie looked away. "I guess they were just trying to do their jobs. What do you think they're talking to Mom about?"

"Probably about the case. 'We think she nearly got kidnapped or murdered by some copycat killer, probably won't find the sick fuck behind it, yada yada we're gonna go be useless somewhere else now bye’." Andy took a deep breath. "That's what they'll be saying. Police in Washington county… they didn't bother in the eighties, they're not gonna bother now."

Cassie nearly told her off for dropping the f bomb in a children's hospital. But she had something more important to get off her chest. "Andy, come here. I need to tell you something." She whispered.

Andy did come over, putting her ear up near Cassie's head. Cassie whispered. "I lied to the cops."

Andy laughed under her breath. "No kidding, kid. It was kinda obvious you were covering for someone. So… I’m guessing they were someone special? A first crush? Were you meeting someone? Was it Gregory?” She asked, with a cheeky grin.

“No way!” Cassie whisper-yelled, shoving Andy away while she cackled above. “No way- we were just friends!”

The last thing she wanted was to think about her ex- best friend like that.

“Okay! Okay- I believe you!” Andy managed to force out, between laughs.

Though, she had to calm down a bit, when a nurse came by to check on the readings. After the nurse left, Andy asked again, in a whisper. “So, who did you lie to the cops for?”

Cassie squirmed. “Well… for myself really. I didn’t want to look crazy.”

The atmosphere got a little heavier again, like the police were back in the area. Except it was just Cassie and her sister, and the weight of the lie she’d told. As Andy raised a brow, like she was saying ‘Go on.’

"Okay, okay. But really. I need to tell someone about this, and you're the only one who won't think I'm nuts."

Andy got serious, and drew in closer again. "I'm all ears. Now what really happened to you?"

So Cassie told her the truth. The whole truth- including what Gregory did to her.

The truth kinda sapped any of the previous happiness out of the room. She could see Andy's face fall as the story continued.

"That V.A.N.N.I mask, that explains the weird chip they removed from your head…"

"…and Jesus Christ- that's what chased you? No wonder you lied to the police… that's almost like something out of the Terminator or something..."

"...I always knew that Gregory kid was a bad egg. Even back when he was a little kid…"

Cassie's shoulders shook as she finished explaining it to Andy, and Andy ran her fingers through Cassie's hair. She could feel tears spring to her eyes again, and her face burn with rage. How many times am I gonna cry over him? She wanted to bite him. Kick him. Pull his stupid self-cut hair. Make him cry too. Make him feel something like she did.

"I tried so hard to find him… I mean, I nearly became a Cassie sandwich, fell out of more vents than I can count. Nearly got drowned by Monty. Got the life scared out of me by Chica- multiple times! I nearly slid off the catwalks above Monty golf, nearly died crashing in the Monty-coaster too. Nearly got attacked by Roxy- because she thought I was Gregory! Monty chased me around the log flume ride trying to eat me. I got chased by a headless Freddy- and he also wanted to eat me. Heck, I even nearly got run over by a go kart! All for what?!"

She couldn't look at Andy right now. She was trying so hard not to start blubbering. Because she hated to think about this. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about this since she woke up. But the police had asked about it, and now she needed to tell Andy… She could feel her chest heaving, as Andy grabbed her into a hug. It was awkward, because Andy was now laying half-off the bed.

"I just… I guess he meant more to me than I ever did to him." She tried to keep her voice steady, but it came out as a whimper. She broke down, crying loudly into Andy's chest.

They stayed like that for a while.

Then Mom came back, and got very confused.

"Andy, what did you do? Cassie, what's the matter?"

"She's just… the police visit brought back some bad memories." Andy said, fixing up Cassie's hair.

She'd had her hair down for… well, probably as long as she'd been at the hospital. So her curls and waves had been crushed for two weeks. Luckily, Andy had a spare scrunchie in her bag, and was pulling her hair up into a pineapple. That way she wouldn't be sleeping on it anymore.

Cassie had run out of tears, and was now just clinging to Andy's jacket, while trying to stop hiccuping.

Mom sighed, and sat down in her usual spot. "They just… they were telling me about the case. They don't know why someone would do this to you, or have any suspects they can chase. They were considering the anonymous tipoff- maybe the attempted killer felt guilty seeing you in the elevator, and couldn't go through with it?" She laughed a bitter laugh. "But she used a public phone booth- far away from the pizzaplex- and the fingerprints reveal nothing. Whoever did this… they have no criminal record…" She placed her head in her hands. "I don't know what to do… sorry, I shouldn't be dumping this on you. That visit already upset you."

"I'm okay now. It's just…" She didn't want to completely lie to Mom. "I was just upset about Gregory." Andy had finished fixing her hair, so Cassie stopped clinging to her and reached out to Mom for a hug. Mom let Cassie grab her tightly, and wrapped her arms around her in return.

Eventually, Mom pulled away, and stood up. "I think that whole event messed with us all. I need a coffee. Andy, Cassie, did you girls want a drink too?

"Yeah, a beer would be good." Andy said. Mom scowled at her, until she amended that statement. "Okay, an iced latte would be best."

Cassie thought about it. Anything fizzy made her throat feel funny, with the nasogastric tube still in. "Could I have some cordial please?" Mom nodded, then left after telling them she'd be back soon, and to be good.

Cassie turned back to Andy once Mom left. "I'm just so angry at him, Andy. I can't get him off my mind… he's gonna get away with it because otherwise I look like a loony."

Andy pulled her close again. "Well, how about this? When we see him again, I'll grab him and hold him down. While you punch him in the face."

Cassie laughed a little at that thought. "Or I could sic Roxy on him… he took her eyes and she hates him for it." Andy laughed at that one. While Cassie jolted out of being angry at Gregory- there were other things she needed to worry about. Time was of the essence- hadn't she seen a wrecking ball through the roof of Roxy Racers?

"Andy! You have to go save Roxy! And Eclipse! And Chica!"

Andy drew back "Excuse me? What? Can you repeat that?"

Cassie didn't repeat it, but she did start to explain why. "Roxy and Eclipse saved my life- I owe it to them! Plus, I promised Roxy I'd fix her after we got out of there. And Chica's scary… but she just needs some help. She never used to eat garbage… we could fix them!" Cassie pleaded their case. Andy remained unphased.

"So you nearly succeeded at killing yourself at the pizzaplex, and now you want me to go there too? I'm starting to think you are crazy…"

"I'm not crazy! Look, I know they say in the news they're gonna reopen the pizzaplex. But they were tearing it down! The animatronics are going to be destroyed! I'd go back and get them myself if I wasn't…" She gestured back at herself. "...and you're the strongest girl I know. If anyone can do it- you can!"

Andy just looked at her. "Okay, look. I know they… mean a lot to you. But think! Can you fix them? It's not like you can just ask your dad to do it anymore. And where would you keep them- would Mom want walking reminders of the company that screwed her over in the house?"

"We could put them in Dad's shed until they're fixed- Mom never goes there anymore. And I was hoping that you would help me fix them…" She looked up at Andy, with big puppy dog eyes.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is so stupid… you know I'm in college right?"

"Yep- robotics. So you know how to fix them!"

Andy groaned in frustration. "Yeah, probably- but I might not have the time to do it, Cassie! College is hard work. And if you’re storing them in Dad’s shed… how am I gonna work on them from Salvador anyway?"

"They don't need to be fixed quickly- just when you have time. Maybe when you come home for the holidays? The only thing that needs to happen quickly is getting them out of the pizzaplex." She could tell by Andy's face she was wearing her down. "Please, Andy? If you save them, that'll be your Christmas gift to me for the rest of my life. You won't have to get me anything ever again!"

That got Andy to seriously consider it. Cassie gave her some time to umm and ahh about it.

"Alright- deal! But this is also my birthday gift to you for the rest of my life. Still good with that?"

Cassie nodded, a huge grin on her face.

"I probably won't be able to drag their endos outta the pizzaplex- the police would get me for stealing for sure- but I can get the personality and memory chips out of them… Sam should still have a spare faz wrench in his shed…" She rambled off, kinda talking to Cassie, kinda planning to herself. "Get some friends in on it… Yeah I can make this work…" She focused back on Cassie. "I'll let you know when I go there. If I'm not back within twelve hours- ring the emergency line. Don't tell Mom what we planned unless I'm found dead."

Cassie nodded again and hoped that the last bit was a joke. They stopped talking about it just in time for Mom to return with their drinks. Mom handed Andy her drink, and helped Cassie to take her mask off, tilt her bed slightly, and hold her cup up. Her arms were still weak, and neither of them wanted to spill it on her while she was laying down. "Sorry it took a while, the line was awful."

Cassie took a sip of her cordial through the straw, relief flowing through her. Going to the pizzaplex sucked, but I'm glad I can at least help get them out of there now. Wouldn't have been able to do that if I'd stayed home. Her drink, and small victories, tasted sweet.

________

It was a few days later, and the doctors were getting ready to see how Cassie's spinal injury would affect her. They were planning to give her a reflex test, to make sure the spinal shock had worn off. But they were waiting for Mom to come back.

She'd had the breathing mask, sticky dots, and nasogastric tube taken away yesterday, because she didn't need them anymore. But she still had the tube running into her arm and abdomen, for now.

Mom and Andy had gone a bit earlier. Mom talked to Cassie's case manager at the hospital. Andy left to meet up with her friends. She'd told Cassie in whispers that they'd make a plan for getting the animatronics- though that would take time

Cassie had spent the time reading through some pamphlets that Mom had left her.

They were about a lot of things- like the kind of spinal injury they suspected she had (something called brown sequard syndrome? She hadn't realized there were multiple ways to break your back.) As well as more about sepsis, and about all the broken bones she'd got- like the femoral shaft, fibula, and tibia in her left leg (Jackpot! Three breaks in one leg! I should get a prize for that one…), as well as the radius in her left arm, and her right fibula, closer to the ankle. It was interesting to learn about, so she wasn't bored or anything.

She kept reading while waiting, until Mom returned. Then the doctors and nurse came back. They drew the curtains around the bed, to give Cassie some privacy.

But first they needed to remove the casts off Cassie's legs. That was easy for her right leg- it only had a half cast around her ankle, leading up towards the back of her calf. They cut open the bandages, then used a cast spreader to free her ankle. The left leg had a cast on it that stopped just before her knee. She'd really done a number on it.

(‘We think what happened is that your left foot hit the ground first, and that leg absorbed most of the impact. Then the right leg. Then when you fell forward, you landed on your left arm and hit your head. Does that sound right to you?’

(‘I… I don't know, I can't remember…’ Thinking about that had made her feel queasy.)

Because of the full cast on her left leg, they needed to cut it off with a special saw. One of the doctors demonstrated how it worked first, and that it wouldn't hurt. Mom held her hand while they used it.

Cassie hadn't really seen her legs before this. When she woke up, she had a blanket over her, and could only see her wrist in a bandage. So she couldn't see the casts. She had felt something on her right leg, but hadn't paid much mind to it. She'd had other, more annoying sensations to worry about that day. In the days since, she'd seen the casts when being moved, or helped. But she'd tried to avoid looking at them- she still remembered how queasy she'd gotten looking at them in the sinkhole.

Her legs looked weird- a bit like they'd shrunk? Or gotten skinnier anyway. Her left leg still had some marks- but they didn't look nearly as nasty as last time she'd seen it. Actually, that leg had some new marks on it that had stitches running through it. She could see one just under her knee, and could feel one on her left hip when she ran her fingers along it. Are they gonna become scars?

"Cool." She said under her breath. But not quietly enough- Mom had heard.

"Not cool! Cassie- your poor legs…"

Cassie could hear the nurse snickering under his breath nearby. She needed to defend herself. "Well yeah- but once they've healed I'll have some sick scars- I'll look like an action heroine! But, y'know, one of the super cool ones that wears short-shorts and a glitzy rhinestone jacket while firing an Uzi."

The nurse burst out laughing, and needed to excuse himself. Mom just groaned, and shook her head, while Cassie rolled her eyes. They don't get it- I've got to look on the bright side- and this is the bright side!

After this discussion, one of the doctors ran a stick up the soles of both of her feet, until it reached her toes. She couldn't feel where she was being touched on her left leg, only knowing it was her sole because she could see it happening. That made her uncomfortable. Her right leg seemed to work better- she could at least feel the stick properly.

The doctor straightened up, and then talked to Cassie about it.

"So Cassie, you got some good results in your right leg- the plantar reflex started working today. Not so much in your left leg. Regardless, this indicates that you're out of spinal shock. We can now get a better idea of just how you'll be affected by your injury." He looked up to both Cassie and her Mom. "Is it okay if we go ahead with the ISNCSCI exam? It might feel a bit uncomfortable, but Mom can stay with you for it."

Cassie agreed, and Mom stayed right beside her as they gave her the test.

________

They were right, it was uncomfortable. And invasive at times. They had asked her to shut her eyes, then poked her with pins or cotton buds all over her body. Especially the hips and legs. Then asked her to tell them whether it was the pin tip, the back of the pin, or the cotton bud touching her. This was all to test whether she could feel touch and pain, and the results hadn't been… great.

Overall, she could feel everything above her waist. Which tracked with the damage they'd seen in the x-ray. Once they got below her waist, the results were dicey. She could feel the pain of the pin pricking her on her left side for the most part. But she hadn't felt the cotton ball properly. She could feel it touching her, but couldn't pinpoint where on the leg.

By contrast, she had felt the cotton ball and could tell where it was most of the time on her right leg. But hadn't felt the pain of the pin pricking her- just that it was touching her. They'd also tried putting an ice pack on various parts of her legs- she'd felt the cold on the left side, but only really felt it touching her on the right.

She read about this, in that pamphlet. But it still felt weird to experience it. It was like her legs had two different problems- and she guessed that was right.

They tested her motor skills and reflexes too. Asking Cassie to move her arms and legs in specific places. "But it's okay if you can't move them- they've lost some muscle while you were sick." She could kinda move some areas in her right leg. But she didn't stand a chance with her left leg- she didn't know if this was because of how badly she'd broken it, or because of how badly she'd broken her back. "It's going to be a bit harder for you, because of your injuries. Don't lose hope."

It was hard not to, though. Eventually the test was over. I definitely got an F, she thought bitterly.

They filled out a chart, labeling everything she could feel and do. They went away for a bit to discuss, leaving Cassie in suspense.

Eventually, Cassie's case manager came back in with the results, and some other paperwork Cassie couldnt see properly. He gave it to Mom, then turned to talk to Cassie.

"So! Good news first! It is an incomplete break, you've got some sacral sparing, so there's a chance you'll gain back some function in your hips and legs again. Especially if you start rehabilitation. You could walk again, with braces or crutches. And your fibulas are healed enough where you should be able to start some weight bearing using special shoes for it. They're called CAM Walkers, but most people call them moon boots."

Cassie asked what they were- and got an answer for it. Basically they were big boots that could keep your leg and ankle straight, and they could brace the leg enough for you to walk in them.

Now that her curiosity was sated, she asked a more important question to her Mom: "What result did I get? I didn't fail, did I?" From what her case manager was saying, it sounded like she got good results. But she couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

Mom handed the results sheet to her, then Cassie read through it. She breathed a sigh of relief- "C? Wow I really should have studied better for this, huh Mom?" Cassie joked.

Mom just smiled and ruffled her hair.

"So, what does this mean for me now? Can I go home?" Cassie asked.

"Well, you'd probably get the best results from staying at an inpatient rehabilitation clinic. Unfortunately, we don't have those facilities here. You could go home, then get outpatient rehab. But you'd probably get worse results- it'd take longer for you to build up strength to use a wheelchair, so you'd probably be stuck in bed for a longer time." Her case manager said.

"Are there any impatient options in the state?" Asked Mom.

"There are, there's a pediatric center in Salt Lake City that we could refer Cassie to. Other patients that have gone there have had good results in the past, and because it's a pediatric center, they're equipped to help her keep up with schooling, too. Plus, it's in network."

"Salt Lake City? That's so far away… am I even okay enough to go?" asked Cassie.

The case manager laughed. "We won't kick you out right away, Cassie! You only woke up a few days ago- we'll keep you here for observation for a bit longer. This is just planning for the future- maybe in three weeks or so?"

She didn't know how to feel about that. If she went to Salt Lake City… she'd be so far away from her family. And so far from home. What if Dad came back, and she missed him because she was three hundred miles away?

At the same time, this center would be filled with other kids. It'd be a bit like summer camp. Except not a camp. And it's technically fall now. So probably not that fun… But she did have a chance to make some cool friends there. None of them would've met her before, so it would be a clean slate. Perfect to make a good first impression on.

She was silent for a bit, weighing pros and cons. Mom broke the silence by putting her hand on Cassie's shoulder. "Personally, I think you should go there… from your results in the test, you could really stand a chance. The sooner you get your strength back, and learn how to use a wheelchair, the sooner you can start learning how to walk again. And you have a phone now- I'd ring you everyday!" She handed Cassie a brochure for this facility that she'd been reading through.

Cassie looked through the brochure Mom had given her quickly. Just typical corpo stuff, really- generic smiling kids photos, blurbs saying what services they offer, stuff like that. But she did like the stories on the back- about the success other kids have had there.

"How long would I have to stay there?" Cassie asked her case manager.

"Usually, patients go there for a few weeks. Sometimes longer. By the time you get transferred there, your arm and legs will be healing better." Cassie looked down at her legs. She could flex her right foot back towards herself, with effort.

She made up her mind. "Could I go there, please?" She asked her Mom, and case manager.

"Of course. I'll have to talk to your mother about it a bit more, but we should be able to refer you there. I'll keep you in the loop, Cassie." He said. "Mrs Oliveira-Mathers, do you want to talk about it now, just outside?" She nodded, and they left Cassie alone.

She took a better look through the brochure, checking out photos of the facilities. This could be really good for me. She thought to herself.

________

It turns out that when her case manager said "We'll keep you here for observation." He didn't mean here, in the PICU. He meant in the general ward. Because she wasn't well enough to leave yet, but she was too well to stay here.

And it turns out they were moving her there today.

Mom had come around, to help her get set up for this. Bringing around some clothes- day clothes. Not just nightgowns like she'd been wearing until now. And Mom hadn't just brought day clothes- she'd brought along some of Cassie's best day clothes- the outfits that she loved wearing! Thank goodness, because I really needed them.

She'd had so many different procedures and examinations done over the past few days. X-rays on her legs and back, testing to make sure her infection was gone, MRI scans on her head and chest.

They'd removed the tube that ran into her arm so they could transition her from painkillers through the tube, to painkillers in tablet form. They had also talked to her about how they could help her once the abdominal tube was removed.

They'd fitted her for the two moonboots, fitted her for a back brace, shown her the loaner wheelchair they'd let her use as needed, until she could get one prescribed. There was so much going on. After all of that, she needed some little things to help her keep positive.

They had confirmed that she would be in the general ward for nearly three weeks. They'd referred her to the inpatient rehab clinic afterwards, but couldn't send her yet- she needed to heal a bit more before she could go.

At least this time could be spent gaining back some strength- She'd gotten to see a physio a few times, and she'd given Cassie some exercises for her wrist and right leg, to help build them up. Mainly just flexing the joints and stretching out her fingers and toes. Cassie had spent a lot of time trying them out, there's plenty of free time at the PICU…

Cassie couldn't wait for the move. Nobody near her would really talk to her. The boy on the left was awake, but very young and scared. He didn't want to talk to her, even when the curtains were pulled back and they were alone. The girl on the left was older looking, but sedated. Sometimes it was almost like she was awake. Her eyes would be open and looking at Cassie. But she never talked back. Cassie just tried to tell her fun stories, and hoped it made her dreams a little easier.

She hadn't had any success in her resolution yet. But that could change in the general ward. There'd be more kids! And they'd be less scared and more awake!

Plus, Andy had told her before she'd left that they were going to the Pizzaplex tonight. Her friends had agreed to help her find the animatronics. So Cassie was elated- she could make some new friends, and rest easy knowing that the animatronics were soon not about to be crushed in rubble anymore.

At least, if Andy gets there in time.

…At least, if Andy doesn't die there…

…

Okay. So Cassie still had some things to worry about.

Andy's the strongest girl I know. And she knows what she's getting into. She's gonna be okay…

"Cassie, are you okay?"

Mom was looking at her with a worried look on her face. She'd been putting Cassie's old books and magazines into a bag, and replacing them with another bag of new ones to read.

Cassie's eyes went wide. "Umm, yeah. Just, it's going to be weird. Moving to the general ward, I mean." And it wasn't really a lie- it would feel weird. She just couldn't tell Mom the whole truth.

Mom put down the bag, and came to sit beside her. "It will probably seem like a lot at first, but just remember- it's not forever. You'll be coming home, you just need to get better first."

~~~~~~~~

Authors note- I'm trying to be accurate with medical stuff in this fic, and I'm keeping track of how long Cassie needs to swap from casts to braces to whatever next. But if you see something inaccurate, let me know. I've done research, but research can only take you so far, when you don't have personal experience with something. (And also aren't a med student)

Also- about the cast on her left leg. She's had intramedullary nails in her femur and tibia. But her fibula in both legs is healing without surgery. (One on the left is a fibular shaft fracture, one on the right is a stable Weber b.) That's why she needs the short leg cast- at least until the ISNCSCI exam. By then, both breaks had two weeks to heal enough where they didn't need casts.

I'm also not Brazilian, or afro-brazilian, or from the US of A. Just a white autistic Aussie chick. If I mess up details, or have negative stereotypes in the fic- it's not on purpose, and if you let me know I'll be happy to edit the fic. Thank you in advance.

[mediocre-eternity]

You have something autistic going on with you (lovingly) <3

I’ve seen this theory about myself roll around this website for some time now. I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought on this… though again— I think the books my coven has published have only served to bring you closer to us and not us closer to you.

I’ll explain.

To you, I am a character in a novel. And I do this, too— relate to characters in novels all of the time. I see myself in many, many people on the TV screen or movie screen. I think “they must get it.” But they are fictional characters. What you need to understand about myself and my cousins in the Blood is that you are first and foremost our prey. And though we may flirt and dance and talk with you, maybe even call you friend, your amazement by who we are is second to our natures as killers. I would not hesitate to rip the throat out of any mortal I see fit. So, I cannot be categorized in a way humans are. Whatever horrific atrocities live in my memories, whatever quirks I may have as a result cannot be conceptualized in a way a human could ever understand.

For example, I have such a mastery of the Mind Gift most humans don’t understand they are dead until I’ve done sucking from them. And even then, most die peacefully in a bed of roses, thinking perhaps they might just take a nap. Then they are gone, without any knowledge of who I was or what I was. And though I may use my real name on this website, you, reader, have no idea who I am and wouldn’t recognize me even if we were standing face to face. Do not look upon me as a human because simply, I am not.

Now, that being said. I do have self awareness. I am not a benign creature lost in their own era because I am hundreds of years old. I can understand things. I see that when other’s dissect my carefully curated novel persona, they tend to write me as a person who has many difficulties grasping what they might be going through in their own minds.

I know I’m not normal. I know I don’t share commonalities with others like me. I don’t see or experience the world they do, even though we are all damned immortals. I understand entirely that I do not speak as much as I think and as much as I’d rather just convey my thoughts to others outright. I am better at lying than most, too…

Oh and I fall into these horrible pits of non-existence where I can tune out rather large swaths of time for myself (which is what I’m trying not to go through now, for Daniel’s sake). If allowed and in good company, it can be extremely hard for me to stop talking (another reason why I’d prefer if I can just exist mind-to-mind). If something catches my imagination, I ruminate and write about it for days, months, sometimes years. I read obsessively…the same book over and over and with music too, until I remember the timing of the notes out of habit. There are episodes of shows on the television that I can recite back to front. And movies. Dune, most recently.

I have a reputation as a hyper-sexual and though I enjoy sex, sex as a tool is something I’ve perfected and there are periods of time where I can completely remove any emotion from the act and use my raw talent at seduction to get what I want. I am such a master at sex, it’s merely a routine characteristic of mine.

Those closest to me become frustrated because it’s so extremely hard for me to understand simple directions. The “packet on the glass” meme has been quoted to me many, many times. I am so well aware of the joke in this. Daniel uses it as a way to torment me when he’s trying to explain how to work something out. I would rather just explore the internet for hours…or ponder a new genre of music than understand the minutiae of tit and tat.

I’ve had to make considerable effort to drone out the horrible, torturous nuisance of modern New York City police cars. No longer is it a deafening alarm, but now a horrific rumble that makes my heart and stomach feel like they’re going to explode. It’s taken years to live comfortably with them and they’ve driven me to intense violence in the past.

“Attenzione! Pickpocket! Attenzione! Borseggiatrici!” Has been on repeat in my head for seven solid nights.

Furthermore, I am friends with many a vampire made within the last few decades. Most notably Benji, who I share many, many commonalities with including our young age in which we came into the Blood. Benji always remarks “oh I have ADHD, I’m ADHD, it’s my ADHD” and he was, truly, given a diagnosis for this before many children were, according to him. He believes this is because he was “in the foster care system” and a refugee so they wanted to give him a label as soon as they could. Whoever they are. (Again, me and Benji even share our beginnings as boys in a family of other boys. Though he had no softness from any Master to aide him).

The most interesting conversations have come from us comparing our lives to each other’s. Benji can get locked into one task or one hobby for hours on end as time passes and passes. We both need to be completely alone on our own terms…

I suppose what I mean to convey is that I’m well aware of these little labels that humans might call each other, or some medical diagnosis that might explain why my humor is off or why others are so terrified by my silence… Why it takes me several attempts to convey a mundane idea verbally or even why I clasp my hands a certain way! If a reader finds a kindred spirit in whatever idea of me that they have, then I’m overjoyed that my novelization has shown some camaraderie to you. And, learning of other’s perceptions and experiences has indeed helped myself, too.

My above warning to you, though, mysterious friend, is to not make a habit of finding commonalities with monsters. My kind feasts upon your kind nightly. In great quantities. And any malady or neurodivergence will not, and cannot, protect you from a very unlucky night.

Autism, ADHD, boarder-line, bipolar… What wonderful new ways science has advanced to help the human race.

But all I care about is your Blood.

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - The Fall of the House of Usher VII

Now, the last of the Usher children must meet their end. But is it really the last child? I wonder if Lenore counts as one of the Usher kids. If I recall correctly, I haven't seen her in Roderick’s visions yet.

Frederick is still left, and in hindsight, he’s not only the biggest fool in the family but possibly the worst. By now, we’ve learned what he did to his suffering wife. Interestingly, in the German version, he has the same voice actor as Alan Harper (Jon Cryer) from Two and a Half Men. For me, this little detail makes Frederick seem even more foolish. He’s such a wannabe, and this connection amplifies it even further. This impression is underlined by his behavior at the construction site just before the building gets demolished.

I wonder if the creators took some inspiration from the SAW movies. I seem to recall that the method by which Frederick is sent to the afterlife is also a medieval torture technique. But the scene from SAW immediately came to mind.

When he dies, he pays a hefty price, as Verna doesn’t let him go as easily as the others. She prolongs his suffering significantly. Here, it feels like she’s not only collecting a debt from the Usher siblings, but also acting as an avenging angel. Unless, of course, she really is an avenging angel—because it’s getting a bit frustrating not knowing what actually happened on New Year’s Eve.

1979 marks the big turning point! In the recent episodes, we’ve seen how Auguste and Roderick were preparing to betray Griswold. At first, Roderick’s wife is shocked, but shortly after, Madeline explains the grim plan to her. That was a shocking moment for me! Even though the plan makes sense, and I was already wondering what could have happened to turn Auguste and Roderick into enemies, I didn’t expect it to happen this way.

Juno also has to face a tough blow. After talking to Roderick and telling him that she wants to stop taking Ligodone, he reveals to her that he’s only with her because her high tolerance for the drug is excellent publicity. At the same time, he lists all the side effects that await her if she stops taking it and explains that it would take about three years for them to subside. A tough pill for Juno to swallow, and as a viewer, you’re left wondering if she’s strong enough to get through it.

There are no more Usher children left; all of them have been wiped out by Verna, or with her help. One of the siblings almost met their end, too, as Madeline manages to convince Roderick to take an overdose of Ligodone and end his life. But Verna prevents it, as Madeline wanted to break the pact with Verna. Naturally, she doesn’t allow this and brings Roderick back to life.

Madeline will stop at nothing, even if it means sacrificing her own family. If it wasn’t clear by now, with all the flashbacks and events leading up to this point, it’s undeniable now—she has no scruples.

The “boredom” I mentioned earlier has completely dissipated, as this episode ties many threads together and gives the story more substance, even though the children are all gone. Roderick’s distorted visions aside.

I have a feeling that quotes from Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories are becoming more frequent. Often, the characters slip into quoting something during their conversations, even if it sounds like their own words. I suspect that these might be taken from the short stories. I’ll have to listen to the English version again because I’ve been watching the series in German, and I’m not sure how the translation handles this.

Now, nearing the end, I’m really hyped! I’ve already seen that they’ve given the final episode a bit more runtime.

[theburgessobserver]

Burgess Observer(Aka Frosts town newspaper)FINAL ISSUE!

News!

MAIN HEADLINE:

Hathway wins election by a landslide!

Yes,it's true he won the Presidential elections by a landslide because a landslide blocked his opponents road out of his house and caused him to miss most of the last campaigns which were decisive as he had a lead.But without appearing to address several key states he had a decisive defeat and lost by a mere 0,1 percent of voters!Hathway is a relatively unknown candidate and was at a disadvantage to win,then again he was not known for anything bad either….

Pages 1-6

Local News!

GIANT MIRACLE!

Last night somebody(or somebodies)built an intricate 18 foot snowman of Paul Bunyan.As part of the Burgess snowman competition it won first place by a landslide!But no one has come forth as to who have built it,whoever did it must have done quite some work on this Ice giant as it is very detailed and looks life-like and is well…gigantic with the ice being practically melded together as if by magic.Whoever you are we all would like to thank you(and your team)for this not only is it the biggest snowman made in the county,but it also caused a rapid increase in tourist and sight-seekers visiting.

Pages 7-8

Other headlines

Meteor Mystery

Last night Mt.Palomar picked up an asteroid the size of a small town it was heading towards the western seaboard,Scientist reported i could destroy a large part of the western seaboard and while the ICMs were being ready to knock it off course(or destroy it if neccesary)it dispersed under unknown conditions seemingly by itself and NASA is completely puzzled,to add to it somehow it wasn't seen until it was very close to Earth,and it being unknown why it wasnt picked up until then. According to experts its calculated impact point was Arcadia Oaks Ca.

Pages 9-11

Rescue,Repair and Renovate

After years of neglect ,thanks to a public fund and renewed interest the Local Drive-in theater called Forbidden Theater:The Terror from beyond fear!Is reopening,after being built in the late 40s and thriving for a long time till lower attendance due to the opening of the town cinema,it made a comeback thanks to support and new interest for movie nights in the cold night and fresh air and many daters chosing to go there.They always say theres a nice chill there at night…after some unexplained mysterious occurrences in and around town in recent years the sci-fi,mystery,monster movie craze came back with it.

Pages 12-15

Interview with Professor Bomba

He is a scientist and artist from Danbury, Connecticut he has done quite extensive research on forests and has come up through his years of research of a theory of little people living in the forest.

Alleged Dragon sightings in Canada near Kullersen Fissures-Theories and Explantions

The pride of the W.S.P. Fireball XL5 returns to Space City base in South Pacific after interplanetary exploration mission

Genetically engineered tomato with chemically altered ranch salad dressing experiment damadges 6 city blocks!

And more!

Eyes on the sky!

Weather:Fairly frosty with a chance of snow.

Today the Forbinned Theater presents:

-The BLOB

-Forbidened Planet

-Earth vs the flying saucers

-Destination:MOON!

-Mothra vs Goodzilla

Well this is it!

MARCH 27TH!!!ALERT!!!THE GUARDIANS COME TOGETHER TO FIGHT THERE BIGGEST THREAT!!!(MORE DANGEROUS AND POWERFULL THAN PITCH!!!!)

AND THEY WONT BE ALONE!!!!

ON MARCH 27TH!!!

This is the last thing i will publish till the story arc with a prologue on 26th and the story starting on 27th this will be an event you wont want to miss with several ties to the past.(And lets be real he would win any snowman competition by a long-shot!)

It seems as though Jack will be off the naughty list for that.

And I see he likes to watch movies and have some fun while watching them.(And if it werent for him it might not even have been reopened)

Always helping his town directly or indirectly.

Who built the Giant Statue?The same who did the snowflake Formation(Wrong answears only please.)

[poorlywoventhread]

Supreme Sorcerer Pope

I recently watched the entirety of Jujutsu Kaisen anime & movie. Overall, it's enjoyable. Yet while watching the heavens suddenly opened up to me as a light came down from the sky, igniting my poor lobotomised brain with knowledge.

The Catholic Church is a front for European sorcerer society

I am not insane; I'm just correct; there's a minor difference. Firstly, tame your expectations, as I am here to shatter minds, not do thorough research. Although there are several indicators to prove I am unequivocally right, the sources include the voice in my head.

✯ A PRIESTS ROLE IN JUJUTSU SOCIETY✯

Let's get this gay once and for all. Both in Japan and in the Catholic Church, there is a clear ranking system ranking all sorcerers from grade 1-4. Must I add that the catholic alpha males underlings (Priests) must undergo insensitive education, what are they learning? Domain expansion.

Church goer — Grade 4

Nun — Window

Priest — Grade 3

Bishop — Grade 2

Cardinal — Grade 1

Pope — Special Grade. Because curses are weaker in Europe, it makes sense the Pope would live so long. When he is killed in battle, the Pope is replaced by another, who then becomes the head of the church and a special grade sorcerer.

Europe is big, so Priests rest after exorcizing curses. Churches are small bases of operation that allow Priests to operate and gather people in once place for a church seminar. Suguru Geto has proven it is affective to use religious fronts to amass curses and rid them. Priests change out every few years/months, the switch indicates they have a new mission.

✯ RELIGIOUS SCHOOLS ✯

In Episode 2 at 12:57 Gojo dumps some tasty exposition and slurping that up we can comprehend that Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College is known to the public as a private religious school to keep a low profile. The location is out of the way and secretive. Only a select few people are allowed in or out. It acts like a hub for Japanese sorcerers. The Vatican state, although not a super sneaky organisation (I'll get to that) is very guarded, while guided tours exist. Only the clergy and the Swiss guard are allowed to reside there which is 764 people, even less have access to the entire facility that's a front for sorcery. It acts like a hub for European sources. Although there are a lot more priests than Japanese sorcerers, priests are low ranking, which reflects on the types of curses they exorcize.

✯PROOF OF CURSED ENERGY IN THE BIBLE✯

In the cool book that is the Bible, it is common for people to hear the voice of God or the Devil, or even see demons. In this case, what the Catholic Church calls demons are just curses.

The Bible doesn’t explicitly tell me about an instance where one person sees a demon while another does not. However, there are parts where people perceive things that may or may not exist, for example; demons, angels, voices appearing to interact with someone. This was before schizophrenia was discovered, so it must be a curse!  In Luke 4:35, Jesus commands a demon to leave a possessed man. The demon recognizes Jesus, but the people around might not have seen the demon itself. Meaning Jesus is a sorcerer, the demon in this case a cursed spirit. In Daniel 10:7, Daniel has a vision of a man, but the men with him do not see the vision. Instead, they are overwhelmed with fear and flee. Some people cannot perceive curses even close to death, while Daniel could. Jesus’ Transfiguration: In Matthew 17:1-9, Peter, James, and John witness Jesus’ transfiguration and see Moses and Elijah talking with Him. The other disciples do not witness this madness. Jesus simply used his curse technique. The last point from this sections is brought to you by today's sponsor gateway.com. Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush… This can be explained simply as a form of cursed energy. Whether or not I'm implying God is a cursed spirit or a jujutsu sorcerer or even a being of faith, It is left up to interpretation and a theory for another day.

✯ HISTORY OF EUROPE✯

Although I haven't researched the fall of the Roman Empire, curses probably had something to do with it. In times of trouble, we turn to the Bible… Which contains many stories that can be linked to sorcery.

The church has a rich history of demons angels; demons, while being fallen angels in the cannon, are actually just curses. Catholic teachings are set up around living a life free of sin and moral teachings, which is an insanely smart excuse to subtly limit negative emotions and normies cursed energy under control. No wonder priests wear dresses, their jobs are so much easier than in Japan. The most compelling form of evidence is just the simple fact exorcisms are still preformed. According to the BBC In 2018, there was a notable increase in the demand for exorcisms, particularly within the Catholic Church. In Italy alone, it was reported that around half a million people sought exorcisms that year. The Vatican even held a special training course for 250 priests from 50 countries to meet this growing demand. To learn how to identify demonic possession, to hear personal accounts from other priests, and to find out more about the rituals behind expelling demons. That just sounds like normal sorcerer business to me… Back to the Bible, we can connect many events that happened in the Bible to cursed energy and curses.

Noah's Ark is a very famous Bible story, how in the seven gates of hell do you fit two of every animal in one boat? Simple, actually, Noah used his cursed technique to create a pocket dimension within the boat.

Although it is known that God sent down the 10 plagues of Egypt. All 10 plagues are just curses sent by God. Water turning into blood, frogs, boils, hail, darkness, and the death of a firstborn… All sound like an average curse activity. Moses has several stories from which he can be proven to be a sorcerer, When the Israelites reached the Red Sea Moses stretched out his hand and the waters divided, allowing his followers safe passage.

Jesus is Europe's equivalent to Tengen-Sama. Jesus died for everyone's sins. It is not a stretch to think he used his cursed energy for this goal — Similar to Tengen's barriers. Jesus would protect all of Europe's Jujutsu Society. This could also explain paying, but then again, what is a pray if not raising a vail? Gojo and Geto clearly recite a mantra before putting up a barrier in Jujutsu Kaisen 0.

Although it is unknown if in the universe of Jujutsu Kaisen if God and Jesus exist as physical beings or strictly as beings of faith, both would be beneficial to humanity. The church and Vatican work to spread their influence and teach God's values, which are often moral laws such as the 10 commandments. Belief in such morals would reduce negative emotions, resulting in weaker and lesser curses. Therefore, the Vatican is a public organisation to spread these teachings. To add onto this, many use God as a source of Hope and happiness, further reducing negative emotions. In conclusion: I will be absolutely burned at the stake for my theory. But just like Jesus, I will die for your sins of being wrong, while I am right.

After I had written this, my friend informed me cursed don't exist outside of Japan in the manga. My honest response is that the Supreme Sorcerer Pope is just superb at his job.