#which iz true i think

[creativesparkz]

not art but i thought thiz waz funny n i wanted to share .episode 2 was AWESOMEEE btw 🙏🙏

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I finished Songs for the Missing today. It’s really fucking bleak. I can’t quite call it cathartic; just dull and empty in a very, painfully Midwestern kind of way.

[fillinforlater]

The Archive of Smite

This page belongs to the writer named Smite. He wrote fics starting in September of 2021 up until April 2024. In these 2,5 years, over 8.000 people followed him to read some of the craziest k-pop girl group smut out there. Almost 150 stories of sex in all kinds of positions, for many reasons, all over the world (and in outerspace), with too many kinks to count.

"When I started, I kinda wanted to become the best. I wanted my favorite writers at the time - Levi, Peach, Sins, and many more - to know that I could write as good as they can. I wanted to go wilder and crazier."

Smite, though ambitious, was also stupid and naive. At roughly the same time he started writing, two other community legends began their careers. IZ and Kaede crushed everything in their sight, especially the former becoming an absolute legend.

"Writing was fun. At times, it was escapism from everyday worries. At other times, it was fulfillment of fantasies I could never reach. Mostly though, it was just horny. BFH that just became words. If you go through my Masterlist, you might see which idols had some random heights or were just... Always on my hot list."

Smite never really stopped writing, not for long stretches that is. It didn't really occur to him that there might be a sudden, drastic reason to stop. He considered doing so anyways. Something about writing porn about irl people without them knowing or wanting - needless to say, it is an odd hobby. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it amd the community it brought with it.

"I fucking love these guys. So many hilarious peoplefrom all over the world. One became like my best friend, a rock during my emotional struggles. Another was my boyfriend for a short time. Man, I screwed up with him kekw. There are too many to mention. I've had long talks with some, others just came by and listened to me mald or something. I love you all, some of you I consider true friends - part of my soul - and I feel connected, even if you are thousands of miles away."

2024 started stressful for Smite. The pressure of Uni started to collapse on him. Even the thought of big kpop concerts wasn't enough to cheer him up. Luckily though, there was this girl. Sweet, kind, caring and in the same position. Soon, he had found something that seemed impossible. She was in love with him and he in love with her. And when everything unraveled.

"I stopped writing. I burried my drafts. I finished only one story and released it way later. I'm sorry I didn't announce it properly, but I just felt that this smut writing career was over. I don't regret it - I gained something beautiful I want to keep for the rest of my life. She is at least as pretty as Minju, so I call that the biggest win imaginable lol."

So no more smuts from Smite?

"99% no"

No more fanfictions/girl group stories in general?

"Eh, 80% no. Still some unfinished angst that I would love y'all to read tho"

Will you ever reach those 150 fics?

"We will see. In this count there are fics with less than 1000 words. I might just sneeze and finish it kekw"

Any fic you regret not writing?

"Not really? Maybe a proper ending for Starship: Horizon? Or yet another Minju fic? Futa stuff? Gaeul angst x female reader? Or how about a fic with 69 different idols at once? Who but me would dare to write something so stupid?"

Do you think you reached your initial goal?

"Do I consider myself the GOAT? No. That title belongs to either Peach, Levi or IZ. But I know that of my now 8.700 followers some consider me their favorite writer. I'm flattered and thank you very much for reading amd enjoying my work."

Now for the most important question: does this post mean you are finally leaving the community behind for good? Is this your last hoorah?

"..."

"Never."

[brigdh]

I want to talk about Izzy's rant to Ed in episode 10, the one that brings out the Kraken. I've seen a lot of different descriptions of what is going on in this scene – death threat, homophobic slurs, etc – and I don't think either of those are what's actually what's happening.

Let's look at it closely, line by line, and the way Ed reacts, from the very beginning of the scene.

Ed: Well, feels nice to tidy up a little. Can't believe I was living like this. Can you, Iz? Izzy? Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship.

Izzy, cont: This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death.

Okay. So there we've got what some have interpreted as a death threat. But does Ed seem threatened? He's startled, certainly, put on his back foot – literally – but he doesn't look afraid or alarmed to me. He draws in a slow breath, assessing the situation, but overall seems more confused than frightened.

In fact he laughs it off with his next line:

Izzy then escalates the level of aggression in the conversation:

But Ed, again, looks more confused than anything. Check out that furrowed brow, that head tilt! This is a man going "what is your deal?", not a man thinking "uh-oh, you might kill me!".

Extremely noticeably, even when Izzy storms right up into his face, Ed holds steady. He doesn't run, doesn't lean back, doesn't hunch his shoulders or drop eye contact – there is no vulnerability or defensiveness in Ed's body language at all. Ed is in supreme control of this confrontation – look at the slow way he deigns to turn back to the paper Izzy's holding! As though he's making the point that he chooses when to turn, not Izzy:

Then we have the "homophobic slur". But watch closely:

Ed does not react to "namby-pamby", "silk gown", or "pining" at all. He doesn't even blink. He barely seems like he's hearing Izzy. His entire attention is on the picture.

Ed's body language and behavior changes at one word and one word only, and that is "boyfriend". As soon as Izzy says it, Ed's furious:

(It's even easier to notice when you actually watch the scene instead of using gifs, because Izzy really draws out 'piiiiiiining', putting a lot of time between the first half of the sentence and 'boyfriend'.)

Why is the use of the word 'boyfriend' so important?

Well, what has Ed been doing all episode? He's been crying in a blanket fort and singing sad songs, yes, but he's been keeping a careful level of mystique about why he's doing it. Ed often uses distanced circumlocutions instead of directly acknowledging his emotions, but he's doing it in this episode even more so than usual:

Here are the lyrics to his song:

(Version one, with Lucius) Hanging on By a thread Hanging on Shouldn't let go If I let go, all will fall Fingers bleeding down to the bone now Can't let go Nothing makes sense Hold on Hold on Hold... on

(Version two, performed for the whole crew) Just let go Make yourself let go Make it go away Away, away today Life's a hard sad death And then you're Deaaad

Notice something? There is no mention of Stede, or love, or break-ups, or abandonments, or relationships in general. All Ed discusses is a vague life-sucks attitude, which could apply to basically anyone under any circumstances. He seems pretty okay with people knowing that Blackbeard is having some sort of weird emotional breakdown as long as he convinces himself that no one knows it's specifically from having his heart broken

This is true of everything Ed says and does for this entire episode. He never once even mentions Stede's name, unless "Farewell, Bonnet's playthings" at the very end counts. The only thing Ed openly admits to feeling bad about is a fictional character who's having a hard time "holding on" (holding on to what? he never says). There are no allusions to heartbreak or romance anywhere in his dialogue.

Now, Ed's not stupid. I'm sure he knows Izzy and Lucius and the rest of the crew can connect the dots and realize that something bad happened with Stede, even if Ed doesn't fill them in on the details. But Ed is also traumatized, and has a whole host of coping mechanisms set up to help him avoiding thinking about things that he doesn't want to think about. If he's not a murderer because "technically the fire killed those guys", then no one knows he's heartbroken because technically he hasn't acknowledged it.

Until Izzy says the word 'boyfriend'. Suddenly the secret is out, and Ed can't handle it. Izzy knows his weakness. That's why this word effects Ed more than anything else Izzy says in the whole scene.

At the end of the confrontation, he hears the crew calling for another song. Look at Ed here. He looks as haunted, as disturbed, in this moment as he does at any point in Izzy's rant.

This is an important part of the scene, not just a closing note. Because if Izzy (the Caribbean's most emotionally constipated man) can see through him, obviously the whole crew can too.

Obviously Lucius – who advised Ed on his and Stede's relationship, who played along with Ed's 'fictional character' claim, who wrote down Ed's lyrics – can do so most of all.

There's a direct emotional logic to Ed killing Lucius because he had a fight with Izzy, and it doesn't involve Ed having been threatened or hate crime'd at all. Ed doesn't deal well with his own feelings (from Stede), so he chooses to become Blackbeard/the Kraken and gets rid of all the witnesses who saw otherwise.

[puttersmile]

Why I like Dogday x Bobby Bearhug

Working off of my last Crittertember post, posting the shipping manifesto for the four of you who are just dying to know, lol.

Part 1 of Post: Here. Just a lot of pictures.

I guess I should start with how I started liking the ship in the first place. As best as I can remember it started with a mildly intense obsession with the Smiling Critters after seeing them in Poppy Playtime Chapter 3. Their carboard soundboards specifically intrigued me. As a fandom we really had ziltch to work with so maybe I was hyper-analyzing their phrases to see if anything could be gleamed from them.

There isn't much unless we are meant to believe Picky is literally a cannibal. I don't think so? I think the voice lines have been corrupted by the metric ton of death that happened within the factory. Be it as it may, what little we fanon-ize about the critters, a lot of it is probably coming from those soundboards.

A post about this already exists on tumblr but at some random point I thought, "Weird Bobby Bearhug and Dogday's cut outs sound like they are talking to one another." Not sure how my brain jumped to that conclusion but it did. As seen in this post with some old oogly art I drew.

And then @meowcola made my dream come true by editing the two voices together. Yhaass! For this I am forever grateful to my fellow shipper.

I don't think any of the other critter's voice lines bounce off of each other as well as these two do (admittedly with slight editing), or even at all. But Bobby and Dogday's cutouts almost seem to have a conversation that don't work played against any of the others. Dogday trying to push someone away that he cares for and Bobby desperately trying to stay with someone she cares for.

Dogday's fall is he cares too much.

Bobby's fall is she doesn't care enough. For herself.

Obviously they are talking to the player actually but my fanon ship brain interpreted it differently. I guess from there, albeit a doomed one, I shipped this ship fairly hard.

The rest of this rambling essay under the cut:

Why I think they work:

Dogday and Bobby’s relationship is mostly about balance. While Dogday’s the brave and daring leader of the group (except when there's a thunderstorm—he tries), Bobby’s the physically strong yet practical one. She’s a total powerhouse,(literal mama bear energy) ready to protect when needed, but only as a last resort. Dogday loves how protective she is, and Bobby really appreciates his loyalty, especially since it helps with her self-worth issues.

One of Bobby’s biggest insecurities is that she believes she’s annoying to her friends. Even though it’s clear she’s not, in the back of her mind, she constantly second-guesses her actions. She’ll wonder if hugging someone is the right move in the moment or if she’s overstepping. Dogday, on the other hand, is someone who thrives on affection and would never get tired of Bobby’s hugs, making him the perfect counter to her uncertainty.

Both of them would share a strong sense of humor, which helps them face life’s challenges with optimism. Dogday is especially good at this.  They know how to lighten the mood and bring joy to each other’s lives, even when the weight of everything starts to creep in.

Bobby’s also got a knack for stepping in when Dogday forgets to take care of himself. She’s nurturing, and in return, Dogday reminds her she’s worth it, which she sometimes forgets. Though Bobby’s not Dogday’s second-in-command (that’s usually Bubba Bubbaphant), she’s the one Dogday confides in emotionally when leadership wears him down.

Over time, Bobby finds herself leaning on Dogday, too, sharing her deepest insecurities and struggles with him.

What really makes them work is how much everyone trusts Bobby. She’s the keeper of everyone’s secrets because they just naturally open up to her. And eventually, Dogday becomes her rock, giving them this deep emotional connection where they’re both vulnerable and open with each other.

Bobby’s practicality also helps balance out Dogday’s crazier ideas. She rarely says “no” outright, but she’s good at restructuring them to make things safer or less chaotic. If safety’s not the issue, then they’re often the ones mediating when their friends have disagreements. They’ve both learned the importance of compromise and work together to bring peace to any tense situation.

I feel like their brief character descriptions show how good they would both be at this.

They’re known as the “mom and dad” of the group, always looking out for everyone’s physical and emotional well-being.

It’s funny how differently they approach things, like planning events—Dogday’s spontaneous energy versus Bobby’s structured organization—but they still make a great team.

In public, they’ve got this super cute Barbie/Ken - Mickey&Minnie vibe, showing their love for each other without hesitation. It’s strong, proud, and they never shy away from letting everyone know how much they mean to each other!

Character flaws/dark side of the ship:

At their darkest, Bobby and Dogday have some pretty complex flaws. Bobby, when she’s at her worst, can be manipulative. She’s got this way of playing on people’s emotions, sometimes twisting things to suit her needs, all while wearing a caring face. It’s like she knows people trust her and she uses that to her advantage, especially if she’s feeling insecure or threatened.

On the flip side, Dogday’s biggest weakness is his fear of hurting others. He’ll go to great lengths to avoid conflict, even if it means letting himself be hurt. He’s so afraid of causing pain or upsetting someone that he’ll bottle up his own feelings or allow himself to be taken advantage of.

This combination can be dangerous when their issues align, with Bobby’s manipulation and Dogday’s passive acceptance creating a pretty toxic dynamic in their worst moments. Thankfully this outcome is incredibly hard for me to see happening. It is still a possibility though.

(In some messed up but interesting fanfiction)

Other Stuff:

On the wiki I saw something incredibly minute but decided to go ahead and make something of it.  There is the idea, at least, that Dogday is named after “Dogstar” aka Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. If you think about Dogday being associated with Sirius, the Dog Star, and Bobby representing Ursa Major aka The Big Dipper, in my mind it symbolizes how their relationship works.

Sirius is the brightest star, leading the way, just like Dogday, who's bold, full of energy, and always guiding others. Bobby, on the other hand, is like Ursa Major—steady, reliable, and always there to support.

Their relationship reflects that balance: Dogday’s light and leadership are complemented by Bobby’s protective, grounding nature. Together, they’re like two guiding forces—he lights the way, and she provides the strength and stability needed to stay on course.

It’s almost like he can shine brighter because he knows she’s there, holding things together.

And for Bobby, Dogday is the spark that keeps her moving forward, even when she feels uncertain.

It’s also cool how Ursa Major is used for navigation, like Bobby helps Dogday find his way emotionally. Meanwhile, Sirius has been a marker of important times like the "dog days" of summer or the flooding of the Nile river, (The flooding of the Nile is celebrated btw, it's a good thing) just as Dogday marks big changes in Bobby’s life.

They balance each other out like the constellations they represent: one a guiding light, the other a steady, protective force in the background.

I think about the cardboard cutout order. Bobby and Dogday are among the last supposedly, holding out even longer than the athletic Hoppy. I interpret that to mean Bobby on her own has a strong will and some amount of bravery.

Not to throw shade at the others who fell before, as it could have all come down to bad luck.(or bad platforming skills--burn.)  But I bring the “possible” death order up as some might say Bobby’s sweet and caring nature means she is weak or useless. I don’t think so.

This is also why I characterize Bobby as sort of a lady-like yet cute bruiser. Dogday is brave but not the strongest critter by far.  Dogday is  Zelda and Bobby is Link lol.  Bobby Bearhug is his knight in fluffy armor, and Dogday is Bobby’s warm home.

There is a tragedy to this. If Bobby was one of the last two  with Dogday in the game. (Going by the order the cardboard cutouts are seen.) I imagine she was doing her best to support him, only for Dogday to abandon Bobby near the end. As the leader, Dogday did what he thought was best and it broke her, ultimately ending them both.

How the relationship Helps them grow:

Not wanting to end this on a down note I’ll speak a bit more on how the relationship enhances both of them.

Bobby’s practical, more thoughtful approach doesn’t just temper Dogday’s adventurous spirit as what may be expected from a dynamic like this. In fact it enhances his daring. 

Yes, it'll ease him off riskier behavior but it enables him to be a more successful leader with her providing safety nets and or foundations for him to be confident. It's not just him willing confidence from within, there's another external pillar to  bolster his confidence. That pillar being her secret knowledge of their friends. While Bobby won't be spilling secrets, she'd certainly know how to guide Dogday in the right direction when it comes to helping the others.

She helps ensure that his ideas are successful and safe, so he'll not only be able to focus his energy on particulars but he'll have the confidence to be the best leader he can be, knowing he won't just come crashing down to earth.  

In turn Dogday's boundless energy, brings joy and spontaneity to Bobby’s more grounded maybe reserved, structured world.  Though she is strong she likely tends to fall back to what's familiar, to what's safe. There is strength in the familiar in the sense of you know for sure you are strong here, but out there things may be more uncertain. 

Out there you can feel weak. At least that's the perception for some with issues of self worth. But now with his energy, his enthusiasm, his optimism, and his light, she'll have the freedom to step out of her usual comfort zones and perhaps be more than she may have imagined. 

Sooo yeah. This ship is not bad. Nor is it boring. I'll never understand how this sentiment came about. Opposites attract isn't the only way a relationship can be interesting. Okay people?

 And that is all that I have to say! Thanks for listening to my CritterTalk.

[traumaticemphaticfantastic]

This is a piece I made just recently that I call “Golem Under A Harvest Moon” I made it because I saw a harvest moon this November and was greatly inspired!

I decided to get creative with my golem’s design for this painting, the muted blue colour of the clay was inspired by the clay blocks in the video game Minecraft funnily enough, I felt that the blueish-grey colour was something interesting that I hadn’t seen much in golems (They tend to be depicted as brown or grey when made from clay) and so I thought it was an neat idea to incorporate into this design. The bob haircut is borrowed from the golem’s design in the German expressionist film “Der Golem wie er in die Welt kam” from 1920, I quite like bob haircuts for some reason, I even have one myself.

One of my favourite aspects of this design is the slot on the golem’s chest, written above the slot are the Hebrew letters Shin and a Final Mem, this spells out the word “Shem” which is sometimes used as a shorthand for a little piece of paper with the full or partial true name of G-d written upon it which is put into the golems mouth in some stories as a means of animating the creature. I thought that instead of a literal mouth, I would put a slot like is used for mail on this design and I think it turned out looking really interesting!

I also, of course, have written the Hebrew word “Emet” (Letters: Alef, Mem, Tof) on the golem’s forehead, but here I have it written out diagonally, as well as having put the golem’s eyes off-centre, one on the top right and the other on the bottom left of its face. Emet means “Truth” in Hebrew, and writing this on the creature’s forehead is another way of bringing a golem to life, it also acts as a kind of off switch because when you erase the Alef it will then read “Met” or “Death” interesting stuff! And finally, as an aside, the golem in this piece has yellow irises, I chose this colour because it highly contrasts with the otherwise more muted palette of the painting, it draws your eyes to golem’s and in my opinion gives the creature just that extra bit of life and expression!

Anyways, that will be all for today, I apologize for not posting for a bit to any who may have noticed my absence, I can assure you that while I was away I was being very creatively productive! More to come for sure, be well all, and I hope winter hasn’t been so hard for you for all who experience it to whichever degree, as they say “Hulyet, hulyet, beyze vintn, Itst iz ayer tsayt! Lang vet doyern der vinter, Zumer iz nokh vayt!”

[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.

[anantplayingdnd]

In honor of pride month I want to hear about how queer you made Barovia please and thank you.

For my game:

Strahd is a bisexual king right out of the book, which is awesome.

Rahadin is asexual, but not in like, an ace kind of way. Like in a single-celled organism kind of way.

Ireena is aroace! A decision partly inspired by a certain pool of water (iykyk), and also because she’s a little bit my self-insert. A PC hit on her in like session four and was immediately told, “Do not ever speak to me that way again.” She’s iconic and I adore her.

IZMARK. IZ. GAY. And madly in love with the druid. Unfortunately Izmark does not know he is gay. He believes it is very normal to lovingly stare into your homie's eyes and look down at his lips and imagine what it would be like to kiss him. And it is very normal to comment on how attractive your homie is, cause that's just what bros do.

Vollenta is a beautiful lesbian who refuses to let the fact that she is married to Strahd change the fact that she is a lesbian and nobody will tell her or her pile of bodies otherwise.

Ludmilla is on the ace spectrum. I mean, come on. She's with the guy for power and grant money. She says she loves him, and they're definitely intimate, but she's the kind of girly to take notes before during and after, you know?

Escher. What even needs to be said about Escher. He's Ravenloft's resident twink and proud of it. He's a little lonely and can't stop thinking about the boy he was in love with when he was young, who is now old and grizzled from age, while Escher himself remains the same age he was when he betrayed his lover and chose Strahd instead, but like... he's also pretty and immortal, so who cares?

(Escher Bonus Content: Two moms! They loved him very much and were upsettingly supportive of his decision to become Strahd's newest consort)

Anastrasya: idk she's dead pre-campaign in mine so if you came here looking for commentary on her you will not get it.

Ezmerelda is a trans lesbian! She's gorgeous and I adore her. She's just so confident that she can kill Strahd on her own and I think she's right for that. I knew I wanted her to be a love interest for one of my PCs, and it just so happens that the player in question has a type.

Danika is also bi, and she's very happily married to her wonderful little husband. This hasn't come up in the campaign at all it's just something I know to be true in my heart.

The Abbot: Gender! Fluid! Call them whatever you want. He/him when you want to play on ideas of masculinity in religious circles, they/them when you want to make them seem undefinable, she/her when you want your PCs to reflect on how much mom trauma they all have :)

Sergei is straight but that man loves the queer community so much and he deserves an honorable mention.

Arrigal is gay and very pissed that the party keeps knocking on his wagon door at 3am. His ex-husband/current boyfriend has been coerced into co-parenting a child with the cleric.

Edit: FORGOT ABOUT THE RESIDENT SPOOKY SPECTRAL LADS BUT TO BE FAIR THEY ARE CANON AND MY PARTY ISN’T THERE YET

There's definitely others but these are my versions of the little guys. I am so interested to hear other people's takes on them.

[slutforgnr]

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 *ೃ༄

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟!

you’re sitting on the floor, christmas decorations are sprawled all around you and you’re choosing which ones will go on the tree and which won’t, with a little help from your five year old daughter, but honestly she is making more of a mess rather than helping.

Izzy is right behind you, wrapping the colourful lights around the gorgeous tree, trying to watch his steps to not break another ornament. again.

“what do you think baby?” he asks, his voice tender as he stumbles next to you and squats down, rubbing your back soothingly so you’d look at the tree.

you turn your head around, your eyes taking in the colourful glistening tree.

“hm…not bad Iz.” you chuckle and give him an approving nod of his well done job.

you set aside all the ornaments that will go on the tree and call your daughter to help you decorate it.

“sweetie come here, it’s time to decorate.” you say with enthusiasm and a big smile on your face, she practically runs up to you and immediately picks up the star for the tree.

“can i put the star there? mommy please?” she asks, her lower lip pouted and she is giving you those puppy eyes, the ones she gives you and Izzy when she really wants something.

“well let’s put the star up then, shall we?”

Izzy says and then he picks up your daughter, making her scream excitingly as she reaches the height of the tree. she gently places the glittery golden star up on the top of the tree which immediately paints her face with a blooming smile.

you watch them both bond over such a simple moment that will become a core memory of hers one day, it is heart warming, it makes you grateful for both of them and it makes you realise how much they mean to you, how much these moments mean to you.

“are you going to help us mom or are you going to just watch us? hm?” he smirks as he hangs up an ornament, his attention is quickly turned back to Alice as she passes him the decorations.

“oh i’m sorry, i didn’t realise i was supposed to do everything around here.” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “but i’m happy to supervise you two.” you smirk back at him, making your way next to them, helping them hang the decorations on the branches of the tree.

everyone is so focused on the tree that it all got a little too quiet, Izzy made his way to the record player and picked out a christmas record.

Alice almost immediately started swaying her head to the beat of song, she was giggling and singing , making Izzy join her in a few seconds. you watched them with a smile but remained focused on finishing the tree up, so you wouldn’t be here till midnight.

“is mommy going to be the grumpy now?”Izzy teases you for your quiet behaviour.

“yes mommy don’t be grumpy.” she playfully copies her father, seeing them side by side like this makes you feel like you’re looking at twins.

“so now you two are conspiring against me?” you raise your eyebrow as you try to hide a smile “alright, what do i have to do to win the 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 award?”

“move a little.” Izzy walks over to you, taking your hands into his, moving them to the rhythm of the song, making you dance. your daughter watches in amusement as her parents dance together, it’s showing her the true love she will chase later in life, she even claps for the two of you.

your heart swells with emotion and on the other hand Izzy sings the song off-key on purpose, just to make it more playful which has you laughing, he looks so joyful and the moment feels so blissful.

“see just like that.” he points out your smile with his finger , then he makes your body spin and that’s how he ends the dance.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

as the decorating is coming to an end, the tree is becoming more full and alive Alice starts to get bored with the decorating and she keeps on messing with you, putting the same ornaments next to each other even after you told her not to about a dozen times or taking off the ornaments just to mess with your head and by this point you’ve noticed she is doing this just to make you angry.

meanwhile Izzy just watches basically himself in a girl and a child form, messing with you, it cracks him up and he just chuckles at your frustration.

“Alice Isbell, if you keep doing this, i don’t think Santa’s coming to give you any presents this year.” you raise your voice slightly, eyeing her as she turns about the same shade of the white wall behind her, with fear washed all over her face.

you try to hide your smile with a serious face but honestly Izzy smirking in the back isn’t making it easy.

“and you too Jeff.” you point your finger at him, reminding them both that you are the head of the family.

“sorry mommy.” Alice mumbles, scared

‘cause obviously Santa is a big deal at her age, it would be a nightmare if he didn’t come and shower her with toys like every single year.

Izzy smirks and comes up to you, shifting his body behind you, his hands sliding down your sides, his voice drops low to your ear. “Mhm…sorry mommy.”

you chuckle but quickly put on a tough mask again and slap his shoulder lightly, shaking your head but you can’t deny that it didn’t make you blush.

“okay let’s wrap this up, c’mon. Alice you go brush your teeth and i’m gonna prepare you your pyjamas.” you order her and she quickly runs to the bathroom, making up for her bad behaviour ‘cause Santa’s watching.

Izzy chuckles but secretly he is amused by your parenting skills and how quickly you can put Alice back in her place when she misbehaves, he thought you were an amazing mother, from the moment you told him you were pregnant actually, he never doubted that you’d be a bad mom.

as Alice gets ready for bed, you walk into her room, tucking her in, reading her a christmas bedtime story before she starts to fall asleep. her eyelids are getting heavy and even though she’s very tired, she still asks for her daddy.

“is daddy going to say goodnight too?”

she asks sleepily, her voice barley above a whisper.

“of course he is, i’ll go get him baby, sleep tight and sweet dreams.” you place a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair from her face before you stand up and walk back into the living room to Izzy.

but to your surprise Izzy isn’t sprawled on the couch, half asleep, he actually isn’t there. you raise your brow, about to call out for him but he jumps from behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist and his lips going to attack your neck.

it makes your heart jump a little but you give into the content hug, you move your head to the side, allowing him to have more space to pepper kisses around.

your hand goes to his neck, your touch lingering there as you mumble.

“Izzy, she is asking for you.”

he chuckles against your neck and pulls away from you. “i’ll be back quick, don’t go anywhere.” he warns playfully, giving you a wink as he makes his way towards Alice’s room , his gaze lingers on you until he walks into her room.

𝐚/𝐧 : wanted to do one for Izzy as well, merry christmas guys ♥︎

[ms-scarletwings]

This Single Oversight Will Bring Irken-Kind to Its Knees

I have a little riddle for you.

What does an ant nest, a computer, and the ancient city of Troy have in common?

While you ponder the significance of this question and consider your answer, there’s a few things I want to analyze about the worldbuilding of Invader Zim.

We may have heard it said before, least I have (and agree), that the fate of the IZ universe appears to be a rather bleak picture.

Through our lens of focus, being upon Earth and an oh-so specific nutball waging his battle upon humanity, we often don’t do as much thinking about the larger cosmic war taking place meanwhile. Not between the Meekrob and Tenn, not between the Tallest and every dumb luck threat they are thrown against, but between the Irken Armada and all life in the entire universe, sentient or not.

Their intentions will not be made any more clear, between outright eradication or eventual enslavement of every lifeform they set their sights on. While they have alliances and neutral treaties, those agreements seem few and far between, as well as born from temporary conveniences. The cards have already been dealt, and all available evidence has indicated that every planet they are aware of is doomed from the moment The Massive was operational.

Though littered with inefficiencies and incompetency that could suggest an empire in internal decline, the development of the control brains and other centralized command crutches of the species suggests the Irkens can still keep a well oiled machine running, no matter how many mishaps happen along the way. At least, that machine and their plundered resources will definitely outlast the survival of their enemies, for sure.

To speak of their enemies, there has not been a single competitive race within the show that demonstrates any credible threat to Operation Impending Doom II- only those that can resist the conquest a little bit longer than others, or those who survive by appeasing Irk (or evading its detection). The fall of Vort, which stood as the homeworld of the only aliens with the technological ability to match the armada’s firepower is…. Really bad news. That’s to say the least of comparatively primitive, TINY planets like Earth or Blorch, standing zero chance in the way of what’s eventually coming. This is a war that has continued despite the death of two.. FOUR Almighty Tallests if you follow the movie’s events… and Irkens wholly are still thriving for it across the Galaxy.

So, given all of these facts, and the perception that the Irkens (like any invasive species or colonial force) don’t seem to be a society that will make responsible and/or sustainable use of their ill-gotten territory… it seems like this is how life across the universe ends in Invader Zim one day: Not with a bang, not with the whimper of heat death, but through screams muffled under the bloody boots of a dominant predator- a predator that is, itself, doomed to cannibalize its own once it hits the carrying capacity of all existence.

Bleak, concrete, and horrific as that may sound, there’s still a “however” here to consider!

Yep, that’s me about to point one of my big fat fingers to the sky and protest- Irk just might be,

Not so Undefeatable, after all!

And not only have I figured out exactly what sort of countermeasure you need to destroy these invaders, I have reason to suspect it’s a plan already long ago set into motion.

Let’s break it down,

An Irksome Achilles’ Heel

True, individually, the bug bastards are irritatingly tough to kill through conventional means. True, collectively, they are nigh impossible to outmatch. And more than most anything else, they owe this tenacity to two things: numbers, and R&D. Possessing some of most state of the art pinnacles in transportation, communications, and military equipment, the Armada found a knack for being able to steamroll most lesser planets before it.

The genius of the individual PAK unit grants each and any one Irken a theoretical path to partial immortality itself, by route of consciousness archiving. I strongly believe that kind of cybernetic progress was also one of the stepping stones that led to the creation of the Control Brains. Nonetheless, this very same strength of the Irkens’ has also proven to be the source of their greatest vulnerability.

Paks, Paks… Oh Paks. The entire race’s civilization revolves around such technology the way we do around our own brains, our own hearts, and our communicative network. For all intents and purposes, and as I’ve gone on about ad nauseum in my other spills about the show, a PAK is all and at once

• Synonymous with the holder of their soul, consciousness, being, whatever you want to call their personhood.

• Able to have their data repurposed by future generations, in the result of an Irken’s permanent death.

• A universal necessity shared by the entire population.

• Susceptible to alterations, sometimes by intelligent enough individuals (as demonstrated by the Zimvoid comic arc), but usually by a Control Brain, directly.

In addition to that last quality, there’s another way the code in a PAK can be changed, for better or worse- Via evolution. Though I am talking about digitized neurology, the actual data in a PAK is a lot more comparable to biological DNA or a “self-learning” AI than it is a rigid computer program. By this, I mean that its code is subject to certain changes over time, perhaps both directed and completely random, particularly during the recycling of its information back into the Smeeteries.

And this is actually good design on the control brains’ part, the same way not reproducing Irkens as genetically identical clones was. Genetic and digital diversity are desirable goals to keep in mind if you want a healthy and versatile stock of workers, engineers, soldiers, and everything in between. We’re talking about highly sentient, highly intelligent, and emotional organisms here. A static drone mindset is going to offer them inadequate ability to adapt to their lengthy life experiences or be unique persons. How else would social mobility have purpose in their world? How else could the cream of the crop rise so far above their peers? That positive was deemed worthy of an obvious risk, however: computational errors.

When the Bugs Get Bugs

 IZ does not clearly lay out what it means for an Irken to be defective, but it gives us a general idea. Defectiveness is not something diagnosed from a code scan for this missing value or that incorrect variable. It’s not judged by one specific character trait or quality that’s abnormal for an Irken to display. “Defective” is a judgement stamp, wielded by the Control Brains when they gauge the total sum value of a life’s contribution to the species. And it’s not one given to Irkens which are merely incompetent, no. Anyone proven to be unfit for their standing is given generous opportunity for redemption or simply reassigned a more suitable occupation. If it were based on likability, we’d have seen Skoodge sent to Judgementia years ago.

Rather, it’s given to those who are viewed as so twisted that they are proven to be an existential danger to their brethren. Irkens that are so destructive to the essence of the collective that their memory must be purged from the record and their identity erased.

I adore the enthusiasm behind fans who want to view this as an analogy for disability or neurodivergence against a conformist society, but the metaphor I’m seeing is one of extreme antisocial behavior. A defective Irken screams less “adhd/autism” to me than they do serial murderers (of their own) or outright traitors. Pardon the use of a gross phrase, but it’d seem we were talking about an Irken equivalent of what the outdated gens would have dubbed the “criminally insane”. No one on screen has ever shown Skoodge or Tak the sort of concern that would get them sent to the Spike of Judgement, but when Zim was in that hot seat? NO one was doubting what his verdict would be.

^ courtesy of “The Trial’s” transcript

I think about the 40 shmillion mistakes a lot.

It’s such a vague quantity. But it sure sounds like a hell of a big one. And what mistakes… what did the lil squirt even have to compare them to? There’s no standard one person an Irken can be. Every presentation of the flaws in that code to the control brains hasn’t ended up a flaw to him.

I only started writing this because I really couldn’t stop thinking about the 40 shmillion. There’s no chronological room for bad self-modding to add up to that so quickly.  DNA replication, nature’s own sloppy and random process of creating new life, can be excused around 120,000 hiccups when duplicating with a 6 billion pair-long protein. But this kind of shuffling is under a futuristic AI’s precise eye. Yes, defects happen, but as bad as him? From birth??? How could you possibly get that many detrimental deviations from the mechanical fucking god-queen(s) of their entire homeworld?

And then it hit me.

You don’t. Not from Irk.

The hot take I’ve been charging for this entire time is thus.

Zim is not defective by any random accident. In fact, I smell the tampering of foreign sabotage.

Not only is this guy the thing his kind fears more than any else, they have every right to be shaking in their stance.

That puzzle i posed at the beginning of this journey, have you seen what I’ve seen yet?

Because the answer I was looking for as to what similarity connects an anthill, a PC, and a city from Greek legend was a most effective tactic for taking them down.

Do you know the best way to deal with a bad ant infestation? Cuz you can lay down all the raid and crushing action you want, but you won’t really be getting anywhere unless you target the pests directly at their queen. To that end, liquid ant baits are marvelous inventions- a sweet substance hiding a small amount of slow acting poison. Poison to be peacefully delivered by the stomach of an ant to the rest of her colony, poisoning her kin, who sicken more members, on and on until the queen is destroyed and the entire nest perishes. An insidious toxin to do all the work while its user never lifts a finger, pretty ingenious.

And when it comes to computers, we also have ways to attack entire networks at source, from quietly and far away. “Trojan” was a category of malware responsible for 64.31% of all cyber attacks on Windows systems in 2022, and they still make up a majority of active malware hits today. The concept is deviously simple. The malicious code is hidden within an innocent looking program, maybe even within a legitimate software that does what it’s supposed to. Once the stowaway is invited into the system, it can get down to it some sneaky, nasty, destructive work on your device. As for what those acts could look like, well, malware exists to do all kinds of things. Mostly something involving trying to get money/information from you or hijacking your computer for whatever its creator wants to use it for. And some of them will just up and wreck your shit, disable your antivirus software to open you up to more infections, disable important operations, wipe your data. Use your imagination.

And as for Troy.. well, where do you think Trojan programs got their name? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, Irkens have their Armada, bionic drones, and homeworld- in other words, the thriving swarm of army ants, the billions to trillions of computers they so rely on, and their nigh untouchable fortress, always at war.

And some damn crafty bastard(s) in the stars said

“Here is their sugar-bait,”

“Here is their cyber attack,”

“Here is their wooden horse.”

And one particular race is going to be getting the last laugh before long.

Nerds That Are GOATed With the Sauce

That’s right, I thought about this all the way through to finding our prime suspect. And let me tell you, NO ONE in the Galaxy reeked of fish like the Vortians did. Get over here and lemme show you my whiteboard with all the red circles and polaroids on it.

- The Means

In a way of tragic irony, Vort has contributed more than any else to the same Irken conquest that turned on them in the end. A natural talent for cutting edge engineering and technical development actually does not seem to be what Irk already came into the ring with. For how mighty and superior they view themselves, the greatest achievements of their military can actually be owed to Vortian outsourcing. When we would have gotten a look at Tallest Miyuki’s very own “finest minds” during her reign, notice something interesting about these guys below,

Zim there is the ONLY Irken to be found! Yes, transferred there because of the punchline explanation of ‘he breaks everything he touches so maybe he’ll have an affinity for weapons research’ but damn right he actually did! And still does; I don’t want it to go unsaid that Zim has shown MUCH more technological skill and innovation than near any other Irken we’ve seen.

Another fun thing to note about this is that Lard Nar was also part of this lineup, and in the transcript he was in the process of working on the blueprints for The Massive. (which leaves you with the cursed knowledge that Zim, Prisoner 777, and Lard were all familiar coworkers long before the events of the show) And that brings me back to what I’m saying about the real reason the Vort natives were enslaved and imprisoned instead of outright sweeped after conquering. The Armada needs their skills, because Vortian advancement is something their own scientists couldn’t come close to. Left to their own devices, Vort could have easily outmatched them at an earlier point in history. It’s a people that figured out infinite power sources and potentially wormhole technology, while PAKs were something a disfigured human tween with a lot of time on his hands was able to crack. If anyone could outpace and outsmart the defensive measures of the Control Brains, it’s going to be them. And what better, cleaner way to sabotage the enemy than from within. 

The very same strings of inserted code that cursed Zim with his delusions, paranoia, lust for destruction, and horrible tactics may also have blessed him with a determination and intellect higher than almost any creature alive. The saboteur gave Irk the most powerful racecar in history, and then fitted it with bicycle brakes. No matter how hard Zim tries to conform to what will give him admiration, no matter how competent he is at keeping himself alive, it’s as if he is instinctually compelled toward whatever actions will cause the MOST damage to his allies in the process. Dib may think he’s the bulwark against the invasion when, ironically, he’s fighting against the one being that’s predetermined to be the arrow that strikes Irken leadership right in their dumb, green heels. (There is also an instance in the comics where Dib figures out that Zim is the ace in the hole for total Irken eradication but that’s another fun story.)

Oh, oh HO HO, and that’s only what he’s capable of doing before the empire’s actual immune system against defects like him wakes up and notices!

Three planetary blackouts, two dead generals, and a whole swath of dead invaders was just the fucking warm up, babey! All that is merely the kind of loud disruption that you need in order to fulfil the real thing this Trojan horse exists for in the first place.

What a celebration of hubris the Spike of Judgement was. Yeah, let’s take our method of filtering the corrupted data from the hive mind, and completely centralize it on a single planet! As well, let’s have the very purging agents also be the same ones to perform the evaluations themselves, I’m sure that it would be unthinkable for any outsider to design a worm that could make it through the brains’ firewalls. Goddamn spectacular. Like inserting an infected USB into your laptop, the Tallest never realized what kind of beast they woke up by plugging that PAK into the Spike’s mainframes. Those brains were meant to handle an expected spectrum of deviation when it came to defective Irkens, never a sleeper virus of this complexity.

From here it probably won’t even matter if Zim survives much longer on Earth, his virus has already spread to the very thing relied upon to keep things like him out of the data pool in the first place. With the Judgementia brains corrupted and no higher authority to overrule them, the firewall is effectively broken, and you know what that means? Bigger cracks for future defectives to start trickling through, both spontaneous and artificial. The ideal scenario is one where a degenerating and glitched population accelerates the incompetency of the empire to the point where it just implodes on itself; nevertheless, even a disease that only slows down Operation Doom could be a game changer, by giving the rest of the little guys more time to band together a coalition strong enough to strike back when the time is right.

- The Motive

The history of these two races’ alliance is something I lament us not having more lore to pull from- how far back it goes, what the character of the Vort was like during that time, what the Irkens had offered in return- a few among dozens of questions it rears.  The implication behind how it ended lies in Zim’s creation that slayed Tallest Miyuki. Interestingly, the Empire never received the memo of what exactly went down, or, perhaps, stubbornly denied the account of the other scientists who were there that day. Neither Red/Purple nor the Judgmentia Brains had any idea that Zim’s actions led to the death of a Tallest. So, makes sense that the Vortians became the unintentional scapegoat (no pun intended) for the incident, and the rest is history.

Note: It’s also in the realm of possibility that Vort was actually the one to withdraw from the alliance instead, given that the same blob that devoured Miyuki (purely the fault of their Irken transfer) also went on to cause untold amounts of devastation. Red’s reaction to the real story stuck out to me as more telling, although.

But why am I even talking about this? Zim was decades old before war was declared on them, and either people’s regard to each other seemed strangely… respectful, if anything.

But, was Vort really a monolithic bunch? Irk was already an empire by this point, and diplomacy with those they needed something from did not mean they weren’t otherwise an aggressive force in the universe. For all we know, the alliance itself might have been coerced, or result of depraved leadership among the Vortians.  Any citizen with a conscience who could see the writing on the walls would be disgusted by giving so much aid and brown nosing to such a menace, no? I know who would have seen that writing before anyone else. Brainiacs who are smart enough to build something like The Massive and all its bells and whistles would know better than anyone just what it was all capable of in the wrong hands. The collateral damage against your own people might be a sacrifice worth making in the face of the alternative.

- The Oppurtunity

So.. that’s all well and good, yeah? A why, and a what, yet this is actually the tricky part of saving the galaxy,

Sneaking your StupidifyIrk.exe file onto the assholes’ homeworld without alerting either them or your own treacherous, weak, collaborator superiors to your actions. Infecting and releasing a random Irken alive would be far too dangerous, far too noticeable to the point where they could just be destroyed outright before given a chance to wreak real havoc.

But what about releasing a dead Irken? 🤔

PAKs are only screened for criminal flaws when errors begin to affect their body’s behaviors in destructive ways. A fully competent scientist, or soldier, or navigator performing a lifetime of loyal service to the empire and then meeting an unfortunate end? Their minds’ shadows can be accepted back into the data pool no questions asked. That’s only business as usual.

That almost makes new smeets something of a reincarnation of their ancestors. Personally, I see it kind of like replaying a video game and re-rolling your stats, even if you’re reusing your character’s name and general play style.

Either way, we come full circle to my theory about Zim’s actual origin. Maybe not “our” Zim, but the previous iteration of data that was shuffled to create his person. Whoever they were, I’m convinced that they were also an exceptional individual. They were probably pretty arrogant, but it was a more earned confidence, and they were a prodigy genius, the likes of which that was drawn to work alongside Vortian allies, as another researcher. Then, an untimely demise befell them. I couldn’t say they fell victim to some unfortunate accident, considering the cockroach durability of their body. No, I find it a lot easier to imagine they met their end in one of the more embarrassing ways for an Irken to die- A PAK stolen, disabled or forcefully detached by an assailant they might have allowed a little closer than they should have. To the homeworld, it’s a small matter. One more PAK recovered by the natives of the friendly planet, brought back home to be repurposed by the smeeteries, right?

Well, that’s what one smartass might have been hoping for.

And they really were a clever cookie, because that scheming seed is fruiting beautifully.

[theamityelf]

(Sorry, you can ignore me, but I do have to write some Toxic Kamuegi here just for fun. Also, this isn't anime-compliant, because the information the second game gives about Izuru Kamukura fascinates me.)

He'd expected the answer to be no. He'd thought that Junko had just been telling a really inappropriate joke. But now...Makoto had pulled his boyfriend aside to ask, and he'd gotten a confirmation with no hesitation. It was true.

"But...How could you do something like that?"

Izuru was staring in that way he did whenever he believed he stood to learn a lot from a conversation. The air in Makoto's room felt as dense as a solid. "You're upset."

"Of course I'm upset!"

"With me?"

"If you murdered the Student Council, then yes, I'm upset with you!"

Izuru looked bothered, and then he seemed to reject the feeling, his expression clearing.

Makoto shook his head in disbelief. "How...Why would you do that?"

"Are you asking because my answer will matter to you? You're already upset." His tone had flattened into a facsimile of indifference that Makoto could see right through.

"Yes, it matters! I want to understand what happened! Why aren't you answering me?"

"It wasn't Enoshima's place to tell you. You didn't have to know it was me. You didn't know those people well enough to care about them; I wouldn't have done it to someone you cared about."

"Izuru!"

"You only care because I'm the one who did it. You wouldn't be thinking about them now, if the culprit had been a stranger."

"What do you mean I wouldn't be thinking about them?! It happened yesterday!"

"Plenty of your friends are murderers. It's unfair that you're upset with me."

"How is this your reaction-?!"

"You're not supposed to be upset with me. It's not fair."

They were not talking about the same thing. Makoto took a breath to steady his head; the situation itself, the idea that Junko had just casually told him that his boyfriend had murdered a bunch of students and then his boyfriend had corroborated the claim, was already so surreal, but the fact that he wasn't even able to get a straight answer about what happened because his boyfriend was fixating so hard on...what? How much of a slight it was to him, that Makoto cared about the transgression at all?

"It's not fair?" he repeated.

Izuru dipped his head, maintaining, "You aren't looking at me the way you're supposed to. I don't like it."

"Did you actually kill someone thinking it wouldn't matter to me?"

"I killed someone thinking you wouldn't find out. Enoshima chose to be underhanded to upset you, thinking it would affect our relationship."

"You think it doesn't affect our relationship?!"

Izuru's head lifted, and his eyes seemed to focus in on him even harder than before. "What does that mean?"

Makoto just sent him a half-bewildered, half-helpless look.

"Tell me what you mean," Izuru insisted, walking closer.

"Tell me why you killed them," Makoto replied. "Was it self-defense? Were you-?"

"They don't matter; they weren't a part of what we had before, so they can't start to factor in to what we have now."

"They don't matter? I..." Makoto felt his expression falter, and he saw a responding flicker in Izuru's face- albeit subtler. "I don't understand how you can act like this. You always...You were nice. I mean, you weren't...always nice, but, you were peaceful. You were-"

"There's no reason to speak in the past tense; I still am everything I was." He'd never heard Izuru sound desperate before, but the agitated pace of his words, the hard, decidedly toneless voice with which he tried to correct Makoto, emanated a subtly frantic aura. "You promised me you wouldn't let anything someone else said about me change your mind about loving me."

"I do love you. But if you really killed someone for no reason-"

"You can’t break up with me. It’s not allowed. I’m not bored of you yet."

"Izuru, you killed the Student Council!"

"You will not leave me."

Makoto had barely noticed the movements while they were happening, but now it was clear that Izuru had gone to stand between him and the door. "Izuru-"

"I’m the Ultimate Hope. What greater purpose could you have in life other than making me happy?"

"What are you saying?!"

"My teachers don’t understand why I care about you. I can’t explain it. The only thing special about you is the fact that you make me happy. You’re as beholden to that talent as I am to mine. We don’t get to forfeit what makes us special."

"I'm not special. I don't have a talent. And I'm not beholden to anything."

They held eye contact for several seconds. It crossed Makoto's mind that he was confronting someone who he knew had just killed a bunch of people, and that he was alone with him now, vulnerable, but...but it was Izuru. And no matter how intimidating he was acting, it seemed important not to show him any weakness right now. Izuru was the one who broke eye contact, averting his gaze with the passionless observation, "We're both angry. We can continue this conversation later." As he turned away, he added, "...after I murder Enoshima." He exited the room and shut the door behind himself.

Makoto was chilled at the way he'd said what might otherwise have sounded like a wry joke. He hurried to the door, throwing it open and finding an empty hallway beyond. No sign that his boyfriend had just left the room barely a second ago, and no sign of which way he'd gone. "Izuru?!" He picked a direction at random and took off, hoping for good luck.

[spotsandsocks]

🎃 and the word I’m gonna choose is intertwined

Oh you menace! What a word indeed! What to do I said, what what what! Then inspiration struck and I thought oh daffi will like that… so I hope you do, let me know when you worked out what was going on… 😉

It hit 1k, you know, cos it’s me… so under the cut 💜💜💜 just for you and a few other select people …

First day at a new job and even now, even after all this time, all these years, all those jobs he still gets a bit nervous. Which is just plain stupid, it’s not like he can’t handle almost any situation he finds himself in. He has skills. And he’s good looking too, a combination that has helped him out of a tricky situation more than once.

The image reflected in the mirror grins back at him. A quick adjustment of his hair and he’s ready to go. He’s looking good, the uniform suits him if he does say so himself.

A firefighter. Who’d have thought.

It’s a new one for him, he’s not done anything like this before. Should be fine though, how hard can it be? After all Bobby does it and Buck, if the kid can pull it off he’s got no worries, and his own particular skill set might come in useful, might help save a few lives here and there. It’s one of the reasons Bobby’s been asking him to train for years and why he’s thrilled it’s finally happened.

Making Bobby happy is not however the reason he finally put himself through the Fire Academy, it’s not a noble urge to help people or save lives that got him to today.

There’s no altruistic motive behind his choice to join the 118. Ok, yes he’ll be saving people it’s true but he’s not particularly invested in ‘people’ per se, he is however very interested in his people. His family.

Ravi can’t ignore the feeling that’s been getting stronger and stronger over the last year. It’s a feeling that says he needs to stay close to Bobby now, watch over him and the others.

Things are changing he can feel it, lost things are starting to move around in the world setting off ripples he can feel in his blood. The first feeling started growing when Isabel’s grandson came home from war. She’d called him, years ago now, to update him about life and family and he’d felt the pull in his chest when she mentioned the boy. He’d been injured and sent home, was having to think about what to do with his life now. A later update brought more feelings, more worries. Apparently his wife was now gone and the words L A and firefighter had been mentioned. Ravi could feel a new path being set in motion.

Around the same time he was feeling more things around Buck too. They faded for a while and he’d thought things might be going to be ok but the stupid kid is a disaster magnet at the best of times and the feelings started to intensify again several months after firefighter Diaz joined the 118. It’s when he decided there was only one safe way forward if he wanted to keep Bobby and Buck and Iz’s grandkid safe.

Buck worries him more and more everyday, not that he’s said anything to anyone but whenever Ravi looks at him he can feel something the young man lost in the past hurtling towards his future. He can’t work out what it is, every time he thinks he’s getting a sense of it, it shifts, the flavour changes but change is coming, maybe more than one change.

The fact that it’s going to be a dangerous time for the people he loves is the only thing he’s sure of. At least he’s in the right place now.

“Hey old man. You ready? Bobby wants ya.”

Buck’s head appears around the doorframe to the lockers. He still doesn’t know why the walls are glass. Ridiculous decision. He meets the kid’s blue eyes with his most unimpressed glare.

“People will think you’re crazy if you call me that kid.”

Buck grins. “Yeah, well you can’t call me kid either…. Probie!”

Oh shit. He’s gonna have a field day with this isn’t he, the little shit. You don’t have to be a 100 year old witch to know that, the look on Buck’s face is positively evil.

“Don’t even think about it… I mean it.” Ravi’s warning falls on deaf ears. Buck winks and disappears from view.

Suppressing a sigh and regretting, not for the first or probably the last time, the day he let his life get so thoroughly intertwined with two different werewolf shifter packs Ravi Pannikar, Probie Firefighter and bad ass witch goes out to meet his new team.

He knows them all even if they don’t know him. The 118 - Bobby’s pack; Athena won’t be here, or Karen, none of the children but it’s the heart of Bobby's pack waiting for him.

Henrietta Wilson, Howard ‘Chimney’ Han and of course the menace that is Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley, a lost kid he found and saved who in turn saved Bobby.

And now there's Eddie Diaz too, not pack but a part of Ravi’s extended family, not that the young man knows that. He also doesn’t know there’s a spot of magic inside him. Ravi wonders if it’s ever helped him or if it ever will.

Bobby sees him and waves him closer. The 118, Bobby's pack, his pack too now.

All Ravi can do is hope he’s ready when the time comes because…

He looks at them, so welcoming, all smiles and completely unaware of the shifting tides and currents of life and magic surrounding them, pushing them into the path of change.

Something is coming their way, he knows that, it’s what his magic does. Senses, finds lost things and something is lost here, maybe more than one something actually and it’s heading right for these people.

Right now Ravi has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing but right now it doesn’t matter.

He walks forward with an innocent smile and an extended hand to introduce himself. There are many, many things he doesn’t know but there are als two things he does; one that he’ll be here when they need him, and two, that they are going to need him.

[matan4il]

Since I've posted the KPTS auditions for both the first and second days, on the 3 years anniversary of the third day, here are all of the pics Filmania shared of the final casting, with Mile, Apo or both:

And the most important one, supposedly the kiss with which Mile surprised Apo during the Auditions...

(I'll be adding this to my Mileapo timeline)

When asked about it, Mile had this to say:

And just a small bonus, on the same day, Mile also left this reply:

Today, Apo was sharing ideas from fans for a costume (for the NYE countdown celebration that BOC is throwing). One of the suggestions was Zhan Zhao, so he tagged Mile:

In case you somehow missed it, Zhan Zhao is the character which Mile loved (had a crush on?) as a kid, and which he thinks Apo looks a lot like! He's spoken about it more than once:

Mile commented on Apo's pic "Zhan Zhao" in Thai and Chinese.

Apo has even dressed up as Zhan Zhao to make Mile's dream come true during the Kinnporsche World Tour:

Even Mile's brother seemed to confirm that this was indeed Mile's dream, and that he's been telling his own family so...

BTW, did you know that the actor who played Zhan Zhao knows about Mile's opinion that Apo looks like his character?

He seems to approve, too.

Another costume idea that was suggested and made Apo tag Mile in it translates as follows (Krasue is the female monster that emits green light that Mile mentioned back in Paris he'd like to dress up as):

Apo calling Mile a good boy. I iz gone, I iz ceased to exist. XD

Lastly, yesterday Mile's mom watched and left a like on a video in which Apo can be seen saying he feels like adopting Mile's last name (Romsaithong. This is from the Oct 16 Farmhouse event):

If you think you are dying to see Mileapo married, get in line. :D

(for more of my Mileapo/Kinnporsche silliness, click here)

[issela-santina]

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

aka

oh don't bother me I'm not here for the jazzy prison riot, I'm here to talk to my wife, Simon Pegg, through the surveillance camera

Nicholas Angel looks like he could impersonate Lady Margot Fenring but the mask maker said no and died on him

Jeremy Renner's dream come true: shouting at Tom Cruise

Paula Patton doing the impossible: kicking ass in a mini pencil dress

(this bullet point is specifically dedicated to the brain cell in me who pretends it's a DJ and who decided to play „Sandstorm“ by Darude)

what we need is an explanation about at which point Benji underwent an aesthetic twink death DILF birth between this movie and Rogue Nation

Bogdan and Ethan are actually shippable but so are Ethan and Sidorov. imagine your enemies to lovers

The Impossibles [insert the swelling horns from the scene where Mr. Incredible found out about the deaths of his fellow supes]

EVERYTHING IS BROKEN. THE GADGETS. THAT BITCH WHO KILLED MY COLLEAGUE THAT I KICKED OFF THE TALLEST TOWER IN THE WORLD. KURT HENDRICKS. ME (almost)

Brad Bird seeks revenge on Pixar

Paula Patton looks great in aquamarine actually

“and I catch you” (Branji can I ship?)

Brandt tries to be tough but ends up being a cinnamon roll

Michael Giacchino's punny score saga, I lost count

Pluto is still a planet to me, Benji!!

how to straight flirt with a rich af bigwig who thinks every guy you hang out with is your bf

the sweaty Brandt shot hits different when you survive a heat wave

“oh I thought it was a bigger org but it's just two guys and one of them is a hopeless atomic sadboi”

Benji confesses his love to Ethan and shares his condolences about Julia in the fucking Kremlin. from Russia with love

“next time, I seduce the rich guy” oh Brandt don't you worry ;)

the one true MVP here is the airbag in that BMW Ethan used to nosedive to Hendricks's nuke case

Luther judging Ethan for saying MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED out loud is all of us

Benji truly has autism and it shows. his mouth is his third hand. he's in missions because Ethan likes him back. he sometimes mantra-izes his words into something worth repeating. shaky but focused

omg. Julia. alive. she knows. that her husband's new boyfriend is also a bit protective of her by extension

[irkenproperty]

ZaDr

THANKU FOR THE ASK BB!

i was honestly about to delete the reblog hmksjddhsk--

SHIP IT, of course c;

What made you ship it?

Admittedly, at the tender age of pre-teen, I'd never been exposed to a same sex couple, whether real or fictional, which made the whole concept of - not only two guys, but also a human and an alien - absolutely terrifying. Being super into cringey AMVs, it was inevitable I'd run across ZaDr eventually... and I hated it, pfff--

It was because I was scared of something different, really. But, after a few months of constantly running into the ship in the fandom space, it became less and less 'scary', and honestly... the aesthetic was growing on me.

The description I put in an IZ speedpaint, back then, had a huge ThIs Is NoT zAdR, iT iS gRoSs AnD wEiRd slapped right across the top, which I eventually removed a few months later as... well... I came to my senses haha!

ZaDr is the most - unintentionally - 'would be canon if made today and not distributed by Nickoldeon' kinda show. I mean, She-Ra had a ZaDr easter egg, for crying out loud - what could have been if someone more progressive, back in the day, had come up with the idea. Sorry Jhonen, but it's true

Favourite things about the ship?

To avoid another ramble, I'll just make a list - height difference, cultural difference, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, realising they're two sides of the same coin when it comes to daddy issues, co-dependency, dom/sub therapy... and just overall two hurt and broken idiots realising they need one another to heal and be happy.

Unpopular opinion about the ship?

... ... Zim is a power bottom and will never grow taller than 5ft - MAXIMUM.

Dib is not a uwu soft boi. He's just as mean and cruel as he thinks Zim is. That boy is a damn bully, and a borderline narcissist.

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 3)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: isobel attends drew’s party before they leave for winter break

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

The stress from Isobel’s finals had finally passed and there was only two days before she would be heading home for the holidays. Two days before she would be cooped up in a car with the boy that had her as confused as ever.

But as of now all of her friends wanted to go to the end of year party that Drew’s fraternity was throwing before everyone scattered across the country. He would most certainly be there in all of his glory, in his element of sorority girls and ‘frat bros.’

And Isobel was not sure where she should stood in that mix now that they crossed boundaries, not once but twice.

She’d told Drew she would be busy the last two days of exams when she left his car that night before practically waddling back to her table in the library, so the two hadn’t seen each other since. The little study break wasn’t too detrimental to her finals, as she aced each one, but not without her mind drifting off to what Drew had done to her in between preparing for them.

Their lack of self control had left Isobel uncertain about the friendship aspect of their relationship, but one thing was for sure—she did not want to go to this party.

When her friends weren’t constantly begging her to start getting ready, Drew was sweet talking her into coming through text.

I really want to see you, Iz.

He would see her in just a day to road-trip home for the holidays, she thought but did not respond and let him continue to beg.

I’ve never sounded more pathetic but you do that to me, Izzy.

Come, pretty please?

And that was all it took. Drew showing that his want for Isobel was different than it was with other girls. She knew it was the bare minimum, that she could be the object of his immediate interest for the moment before his attention went else where, but she couldn’t seem to say no to him.

Thinking back she doesn’t think that’s ever been an easy thing for her, there was always an inclination deep down to satisfy him in the smallest of ways. She wanted to do it. Go to his parties. Walk with him to class. Help him study for his finals. Let his rough hands graze her waiting body.

So as she read over those messages he sent less than a minute apart like he didn’t care if she responded and just needed to get the thoughts off of his chest she couldn’t help but agree to drop in for just a little.

Isobel was just about finished with her makeup when the frantic knocking of her friends began to sound throughout her apartment. She huffed at having to stop to let them in, she just wanted to get ready for this godforsaken party without getting badgered.

As soon as she swung the door open they ran their eyes over her done up appearance and the rambling began.

“You’re coming-“

“You’re dressed-“

“Isobel, start doing your makeup now-“

“-oh, you’re already ready.” Charlotte assessed as they finished talking over each other.

Grace and Dev just smiled excitedly as they all walked back to her room. Swiftly passing the couch that Drew had managed to peel back a layer of her innocence on a little more than a week ago.

Isobel had on black cargo pants with a simple tiny black top, it was basic but it was good enough, she’d never been one to dress for others no matter how down bad she was for Drew at the moment. Her hair was down, framing her face while her ends were slightly curled, adorning her shoulders and cleavage.

“What made you change your mind?” Dev squinted at her through the vanity mirror where Isobel met her eyes while applying mascara, “You practically cussed me out for asking a few hours ago.”

That was very true, but only because their incessant begging had begun to piss her off.

But not his she silently realized.

Isobel decided this was not the night she was going to spill the beans about Drew to her friends. She would not be able to bare all the questions that would come barreling out of their mouths, especially when she didn’t have any answers that would satisfy the trio.

Or that would even satisfy her own constant anxiety enducing thoughts.

“I just figured it would be nice to all be together before we leave for two weeks.” Isobel smiled. Not a lie but also far from the truth.

“How are you such an angel all the time?” Grace appreciated her friend in awe, flattery written all over her sweet face. She would be the most offended when she figured out what Isobel was keeping from them.

Her friends couldn’t help but jump around in excitement at her sudden interest in the party, making her feel a tad bad about her little white lie—and like clockwork things were beginning to get complicated.

They left for campus as soon as Isobel finished the last touches of her makeup, the four falling out of the Uber from the shots they were taking in the backseat. Though Isobel only had one, nerves too embedded in her belly to put anything on her stomach without feeling like it would come back up.

“Drew-“ Grace paused before she could finish at the audible gasp of surprise that had accidentally slipped from Isobel’s mouth, “-will be at the door for us like last time right?” She finished the words tumbling out as she watched her carefully.

Her friends were always talking about Drew, they all collectively found him attractive and therefore were constantly encouraging Isobel to jump into his bedsheets to which she obviously refused for years.

But hearing them as simple as utter his name had chills going down her spine, like the word would make her reveal all the things they’d done behind closed doors.

“Yes, I texted him in the car, sorry the alcohol has me all jumpy.” She answered, desperately wanting the attention off of her.

She hated that when she was alone in her thoughts, thinking of how she would have to keep this from her friends and family, that what they did had felt wrong in a sense.

Isobel hated the uncertainty, it only allowed malignant thoughts to eat away at the possibility of just enjoying a good thing in the moment.

“You had one shot, Isobel, you never cease to amaze me.” Charlotte said with amusement laced in her voice.

The girl couldn’t help but blush as they walked up to the doors of the party. The alcohol had been a good excuse, but that was also because Isobel was known to be the lightweight in her friend group which was why she would be babysitting exactly one drink tonight. Getting inebriated while in same building as Drew would be a dangerous move to make, she could barely keep her hands to herself while sober.

She thought it over in her head, one drink in addition to the shot from the Uber would have her at an acceptable buzz. Then the door swung open revealing Drew with that tilted smile on his face as his eyes ran over them, unnoticeably lingering on Isobel for a second longer.

And then and there she decided to up the ante to two drinks as any alcohol that was present in her veins vanished at the sight of him, at those hands that had been on and in unspeakable places of her body in his truck that was parked in front of the house. Another reminder of what had transpired between the two, the solidification of things never being the same.

“Hi, Drew” her friends said in unison as they walked in while Isobel stayed mute following behind them.

“My girls.” They all gave him a group hug like they always did when they came to his parties.

They were giggling like school girls.

Isobel, in the past, had given them the green light to pursue him if they wanted but all three always refused, claiming Drew and Isobel were too interconnected for them to make a move on him. Now Isobel couldn’t even bare the thought of him ever being interested in her friends, not after the way he’d touched her, spoken to her, and invaded her thoughts.

He wrapped his toned arms around their bodies giving them his full attention aside from his eyes.

Those were solely on Isobel as he visibly drunk her in with those stormy blue irises.

Anyone watching him would think Drew’s eyes had only swept over her figure but as she stood there his piercing gaze made her feel as she’d been stripped bare.

“I see you guys were able to drag your friend here after all.” He smirked as they separated never once looking away from Isobel.

As if she couldn’t contain her excitement at her mere presence Dev ran back over to Isobel and squeezed her into a hug. Drew noticed even her friends were looking over at her in adornment, stealing all of their attention with just her aura, she hadn’t uttered a word since she stepped inside the house. “You guys throw the best parties, we couldn’t let her miss this one right, Isobel?”

Drew didn’t have to look over to her as Dev stopped talking, he was already watching her. He’d seen her in makeup hundreds maybe thousands of times before but not once since Drew had began to really notice her. And if Isobel was a force the day he checked her out on her couch bare faced, he didn’t know the word that would fully encompass how gorgeous she looked standing there in front of him now.

“Of course.” Isobel gently smiled, body visibly relaxing like she’d just internally accepted that this party was just not worth missing.

Drew could only hope he was part of that sudden revelation.

“You ladies go get some booze, everything’s set up in the kitchen.” Isobel watched as his words were seemingly directed at her friends, the courtesy obviously stopping there, “Let me talk to Isobel about our traveling plans.”

Charlotte, Dev, and Grace did not have to be told twice as they bid the two a goodbye and mingled their way through a sea of people towards the kitchen. She probably wouldn’t see those social butterflies for a while leaving her with Drew who now had no shame on his handsome face as he once again took her in.

“Hey, Iz.” He said while admiring the way her body made the most basic choice of clothing look like they’d been plucked right off some street style runway.

The pants she wore sat perfectly on her hips, leaving out the most delicious amount of her smooth belly that eventually led up to the tight top that was accentuating her breast so well he thought he might take his last breathe. “Don’t start that shit, Drew.”

“Don’t start what?” That knowing smirk slithering on to his lips making her blood want to boil at the sight.

He stepped closer, Isobel leaning against the wall with her back pushed tightly against it because if she allowed herself to fully relax she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from pushing against his hard one.

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. But she did know him purring that nickname in her ear could only lead to dangerous territory, and she did not want shit going down in front everyone to see.

The vanilla perfume she lathered on was drawing Drew closer to her, enough to sense it but not enough to peak anyone’s interest who may be watching. Isobel watched him as he inhaled deeply, his blue eyes deepening a little as they fluttered open to look at her again. “Don’t be mean to me tonight, Izzy, I missed you.”

At parties in the past Isobel was at times a bitch to Drew with reason, sometimes he would just act like an annoying gnat that wouldn’t go away always teasing her and playing stupid fucking games. Someone had to put him in his place.

That’s the type of friends they were before, they were always in constant banter. Isobel either cursing or ignoring him, while Drew watched over and fucked with her. A part of Isobel hated that they would most likely ruin that part of their friendship.

Now, when she was cold towards him, being dry with him she knew deep down it would be to protect herself—not just light-hearted conversation with a friend.

Isobel and Drew had flipped their world as they knew it three times over.

In a dimension that consisted of only them where he could not seem to get enough and she couldn’t find it in her to want to starve themselves of the thrill of going there with a boy let alone one she’d known for a decade. “I can’t promise anything.”

His eyes only glimmered at her response, and Isobel could only wonder what he saw when he looked at her. That gaze made her feel warm inside like she was actually being seen, like he really knew her.

For Drew looking at her was like looking in an orb of light that casted everything he wanted into his vision. And it felt like if he looked away he would miss a glimpse of his future. Isobel had always been a person in his past and present, but to think about her as an addition in his future made fear bubble in his gut. He wouldn’t look away though, it was like trying to tear his eyes away from two cars recklessly racing towards a finish line.

“Well, can I have a hug?” He mumbled, he was lost in her, simply only aware of her presence. Isobel’s fingers were itching at her sides at the feeling of him somewhat near her, the familiarity pulling her in, “The last time I saw you, you jumped out of my car without a word.”

Isobel was thankful she had the excuse to go back in the library and study that day. When they were jumping each other’s bones it didn’t feel wrong, the possibility of ruining whatever grounds of friendship they had not mattering at all.

Then the thrill of it all faded, and school serving as distraction from reality slowly setting in only lasted so long.

It all came when Isobel was alone—the questions, the doubt, the uncertainty. Something within her nagged her to trust Drew and just go with it, but there was also her sensible side that told her to pump her breaks. “What if someone sees?”

Drew just shrugged his shoulders, “We’ve hugged at my parties, Izzy, and it wasn’t a problem when I hugged your friends.”

Isobel knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. Now that they were actually kissing, exploring each other, and had come pretty close to fucking the paranoia had only doubled for her. It almost felt like she’d fallen into someone else’s narrative, that was written for them before they could even think of it for themselves.

She didn’t want such a momentous thing to just be gossip on a college campus. And if she felt his firm chest against hers in an embrace she’d be sucked into whatever daze Drew was in.

“I have a feeling the way you wanna hug me will look a bit more than friendly, Drew“ Isobel peered up at him as he towered over her. His eyes glinting at the true meaning behind her words.

As much as she was against everyone thinking they were fucking, Isobel thinks she’s the problem when it comes to them ending up in compromising positions. All he had do was utter the word jump and she would pounce like a kitten.

“Sounds like you’re projecting on to me what you want me to really do to you.” He chuckled while his eyes remained clear, the most innocent he’d ever look while the two were in such close proximity, “Keep those perverse thoughts to yourself, I just want feel you in my arms, Izzy Bear.”

“Fine.” She dramatically relented. In the midst of rolling her eyes she felt his long arms snake their way around her waist as he stared down at her with an amused smile.

She could only think to scrunch her nose up at him before leaning into him. The feeling was too much, so different than before and as she breathed him in the more she melted into him. Isobel was sure hugging someone you’d been intimate with was similar to what it felt like to make love on drugs for the first time.

She felt good in his arms, Drew watched his hands as they glided over her back. This wasn’t one of those hugs people at school had seen them share—they both knew it.

He wasn’t sure if he’d been holding her for too suspicious of a time or if time had only slowed from the feeling of her in his embrace. People came to parties with the intent of accomplishing something whether it’s getting drunk, meeting someone new, or the simple feeling of being seen.

Drew truly felt like he found his peak of the night, Isobel encased in his arms relaxed and inviting. If she pulled away and walked out that door without a goodbye he would remain content. That’s how things had been feeling with her lately, her giving him more of herself little by little and leaving the deepest impression that it lasted for days on his mind.

For a split second the two forgot they were standing in a room full of people. As Drew let her go he could visibly see the tenseness build back up in her spine as she looked around at everyone doing there own thing. She wasn’t being her usual self, the gears turning in her head clear for him to see in her chocolate brown eyes.

“You want to go to my room?” Drew suggested hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea, the boy only wanted to get her away from the crowd to see if it helped her anxiousness.

Isobel was relieved to hear those words as she seemed to come back into her own body, she’d come here for her friends and for him but her mind was not in a place to be around so many people. She wasn’t even sure how she would get through the weekend with both of their families at one dinner table.

She just wanted to keep their affair between them even if it was wrong or foreign, no matter where it led them in the end. Cradle it from the judgement of others and being tainted by letting outside opinions in.

But she knew the more she tried to shelter it—shelter them—she would end up doing the harming in the end.

“No, you should enjoy your party, Drew, we haven’t even gotten a drink yet.” Isobel declined his offer wanting to at least try to enjoy the night and suck it up. She knew Drew was not going through these internal trepidations about their relationship, he just wasn’t the type to be bothered by outside noise.

“I don’t give fuck about what’s going on down here, just get your ass upstairs.” He could not bare watching her squirm uncomfortably at a party he begged her to come to. And if the reason he was going to miss out was Isobel he didn’t see a problem with that in the slightest.

Isobel felt her blood start to rush at his words, she was sure her hormones had been corrupted from the moment he laid a finger on her. The demanding tone in his voice caressed every sensitive nerve in her body and now had her body on a never ending buzz.

She could only nod at him in response before they turned towards the steps in a swift movement. Air caught in her throat when she felt the feather touch of his fingers on the skin of her back, guiding her to the stairs. She made it up the majority of the steps without thinking of any watchful eyes that may be noting his hand placement up until they got towards the top. Drew then wrapped his arms around her waist from behind pulling her back into his body.

And she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had caught a glimpse of the interaction before they disappeared to the second floor. Her neck yearned to turn around and look but she resisted.

“You look stunning tonight, Izzy.” Drew murmured into her ear, feeling her tense shoulder relax against him.

He placed two fingers under her chin as he tilted her chin up to meet her gaze before stepping around and taking in that smile that was sitting on her soft lips. “Thank you.”

Drew grinned back then grabbed one of her hands behind him and lead her down the hallway to his room. He was internally patting himself on the back for cleaning his room a few days prior, not wanting her to be uncomfortable in a dirty room.

As he clicked the door closed and looked over to her he immediately concluded that he loved the sight of her in his personal space. His neutral navy-beige room was simple but it was a home away from home and Isobel complemented it well.

This wasn’t the first time the two had been up here together, they’d been in and out when he needed to grab something for her but he never appreciated how her presence made him feel enclosed in such an intimate setting—like she was the missing touch.

Yet another place she would ruin for him, and if she sat on his bed she would only mark her territory with the musk of her vanilla perfume she would no doubt leave behind.

It almost unsettled him at how long it took him in life to actually appreciate her, and now that he was it kept coming wave after wave. Every glance was realization of just how beautiful and remarkable she was, an endless revelation. It mimicked the feeling of finding a missing thing that had been in the most obvious spot all along, relieving but not any less annoying for all the time wasted during the search.

Drew stayed silent while Isobel swayed her hips as she walked to the window and watched the party that was overflowing to the backyard. He just watched her in silence, he couldn’t tell if the atmosphere was different between them or if his subconscious was keeping him quiet so he wouldn’t ruin whatever was going on.

When his thoughts weren’t filled with admiration for Isobel they were second guessing himself. It was all so fresh and fragile, and he didn’t want to come on too strong and break such a beautiful thing, such a beautiful person.

The last two times the two had been together it ended with them both out of breathe for each other, and he knew it was sending a particular message to her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Isobel was a relationship kind of girl, Drew just didn’t know if he was that kind of guy. What he did know, though, was that he wanted to be with and attached to her no matter the circumstance as much as possible.

He wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship, but he also didn’t want to disrespect a woman he’d known for longer than any girl he fucked in the past. So he could go a day or days with out being intimate with her, no matter how hard she was to resist.

When Isobel turned from the window and walked towards him a ball of air formed in his throat just at sight of her for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her beauty not when he’d been practically blind to it for so long.

“Your room has never been this clean you must’ve been expecting someone special tonight.” She taunted him with her sultry yet sweet voice, he noticed her voice always had some sort of edge to it and it was nothing but intoxicating to hear—especially when it was his name on her lips.

Isobel was relieved when he smiled, amusement swirling in his eyes along with something foreign he couldn’t decipher, but it made his blue eyes appear darker. As much as what she’d just said was a joke, the circumstances they were under made it mean so much more. It was fun to kid and joke but part of her, no matter how deep it may be, could either be relieved or disappointed with his response. “No, but begging for her to be here tonight was worth the bruise to my ego.”

He made her feel special whether it was intentional or not. It was the little things that drew her in, that diluted the doubt that was always coursing through her.

Whatever intensity was swirling in his eyes had her slowly moving closer to him, she could feel it as he watched over her every movement. She could barely remember her last thought, only Drew and his words on her mind before she found herself standing between his long, muscular legs.

In that position between his spread thighs, so close his woody scent invading her nostrils with his eyes staring straight back into her own she felt fully encapsulated. “I’m worth it, yeah?”

She pondered her own words thinking of the small sacrifices he’d made for her—that they’d made for little moments like this.

Drew could only groan in agreement as his rough hands gently gripped her soft hips to pull her closer. She bit her lip, stifling a moan when he pressed his face into her belly and inhaled while running his fingers down her thighs until they met the back of her knees.

He hadn’t had drop of alcohol tonight, and yet the man was drunk. So intensely consumed with all that was Isobel all inhibitions and good judgment was shoved to the back of his mind. He didn’t stop her when she bent one knee under his touch, placing it beside his thigh as the other leg quickly followed and wordlessly slid herself onto his lap.

He didn’t think about where it could possibly lead in the wake of his hands running up her spine making her arch into his chest. Not a single thought was present in his head anymore, distracted by the feeling of her lips trailing his neck. She was seduction in the flesh as she kissed down the center of his throat before dragging her wet tongue back up to his jaw. “Izzy, God, damn.”

“I don’t know what it is about you, Drew.” she sighed, kissing his jaw at the feeling of his body vibrating beneath her. She caressed his skin with gentleness like it would calm him, but it only served to slowly unravel him.

Then her lips pressed into his waiting ones and they were lost. In the feeling, the moment, the rush, hell they’d forgotten where they were. Isobel didn’t have it in her to worry, not when they were sharing such an intimate kiss that it felt as if she was tasting water for the first time in days after suffering from thirst. The fact that her friends were roaming around on the floor just beneath her couldn’t penetrate the high she was on.

They kissed sloppily, smacking and massaging each others mouth’s until even the contents of their kissing was hard to contain. Isobel always thought she had to be skilled and technical when it came to kissing, but none of that mattered when the want for the person burned so intensely that the main goal was solely just to taste and taste until your mouth went numb.

Drew felt starved as he all but devoured her with his lips and tongue, the man was desperate to feel every inch of her under his touch. He wrapped an arm around her back pulling her closer groaning as he squeezed her tight, like he was holding onto his sanity, grasping at the last bit of it. Drew didn’t dare lay back, if he did and he saw the sight of her towering over him they wouldn’t see their friends for the rest of the night.

He had to tread lightly and it was taking everything in him not to grasp her backside in his greedy hands, tortuously denying himself of one his favorite parts of her.

Isobel shifted in his lap trying to get more comfortable only causing his body to stiffen at the contact before he grabbed her hips and pushed her back where she was, “Fuck, don’t do that to me, Izzy.”

Their lips were still attached as he spoke, and Isobel smirked knowing he could make out her smile against his mouth. “Why?”

Drew never thought he would be in this position, a girl on top of him teasing him beyond lengths while he was having an internal battle with himself on whether they should stop before things went too far.

“You know why, don’t make me show you.” He threatened as he pressed his lips to her ear. A wave of heat coursed through her entire body at his words, and her lower body was way too close to the reasoning, “Plus your friends are downstairs, unless you don’t care if they hear what I’m gonna do to you if you keep fucking with me, Isobel.”

Drew now had that look in his eyes, the look that told her that his mind was entering the gutter, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to get it out—but she remained on his thighs not daring to move an inch. His words were harsh but it did nothing to deter her, not even the mentioning of the girls.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” Isobel innocently purred, not reacting when he squeezed her thighs tighter. She watched as his eyes tinted to the darkest blue-black that could only be stemmed from deepest depths of the oceans before leaning towards him and running the tip of her tongue along the center of his lips.

Not even a second had passed before Drew gripped her hips and tossed her ass on the bed before he stood up and put some well needed distance between the two. Isobel could only smile as he began running his hands through his hair, frustration obvious in his movement.

Their breathing was the only notable sound in the room, Isobel just lying back on her elbows while he watched her with dark eyes. If anything his gaze made her feel just as breathless even with their bodies apart.

He swore those glimmering dark brown eyes were silently chanting to him, like a siren beckoning him in a soundless melody.

A gasp left her lips from the sound of her phone buzzing on the desk next to Drew. Like a chime of a bell she’d been knocked out of whatever hormone induced trance they’d fell into. Scrambling off the bed to get to her phone to see her friends were looking for her. The current time told her they’d been up in his room fucking around for half an hour.

Drew and the girl everyone thought he was fucking missing from his own party for over thirty minutes. That was not going to send the right message at all, especially for anyone who saw them leave together. Worry and guilt for abandoning her friends when she’d told them she came for them began to wash over her. Drew could see it all over her face, in her eyes that were staring off at the ground from zoning out in thought.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was thinking, especially with the way she was acting downstairs, “Do you wanna talk, Iz?”

That’s exactly what she wanted to do, the second time tonight he’d studied her and figured out what she needed, but she didn’t want to do that if it was only going to push him away. If her thoughts and worries were going to confuse and scare him off. “No, I just want to find the girls, I should have just stayed home.”

A pang of hurt hit Drew as she said that, after years of knowing her and her family he knew she was a stubborn girl who chose to suppress her feelings. Still the way she chose to shut people out and cope with it by herself didn’t hurt any less. He cared for Isobel before all of this, but now it was amplified. It mattered to him how she felt when she left him and went to that apartment to be alone in her thoughts.

“Then why did you come, Isobel?” He needed her to speak her mind.

She sort of flinched at his words, not because they were harsh, but because it was a real question that required a real answer, and as much as she wanted to run away from it, from him she didn’t have it in her. Drew grabbed her arm pulling her closer looking down at her with patient eyes.

“I came because you asked me to.” She whispered with a sigh as she pressed her forehead against his chest feeling his heart beat pass through her, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk.”

For the first time Drew felt a surge of uncertainty hit him all at once not because of Isobel, he was sure about her. He just wasn’t sure he would have the answers for her that would alleviate whatever stress was filling her.

And he wanted more than anything to be the person to take that heavy feeling away.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR