#happy halloween you goons

[semisolidmind]

Happy Halloween, pumpkin slasher be upon ye

(based on 70s archie comic covers)

[phoenixcatch7]

Open up

Based on this wonderful art of @puppetmaster13u for the dollhouse au!

It had been a long day, and was destined to be even longer.

The original plan had been bad enough; the league had a media conference planned for three o'clock, one that involved foreign presence and thus required pristine presentation.

Then, as all perfectly good plans that could have been left alone by the universe did, it was derailed by a villain attack or several. He said several because it seemed almost a dozen separate villains had individually had the bright idea of sabotaging the well publicised event. Though they'd failed, the accidental collaboration had done what each alone could not, and now the league was dragging themselves to base to hurriedly patch up the thankfully minor wounds and try and rush to meet the deadline.

Each league member on the list had a formal version of their usual super suit - flash's main change had been a bowtie before it met almost unanimous disapproval, and on the other end of the effort spectrum was Bruce. Not of his own will - he quite envied Flash's staunch faith in the single black bowtie - but he not only had been raised for the fast and critical world of the upper class, but was currently in a metal plated marionette held together by glue and screws and wires, which meant changing attire was more of a debacle than it would ordinarily be.

He flipped open the toolkit with the best approximation of a sigh the doll body could manage. The chest inflated and deflated, which was in fact a rather worrying sign because it wasn't supposed to be able to do that. He grabbed a screwdriver and a pit of tar glue and approached the mirror. He'd just have to go into the globally broadcast meeting stinking of sulphur... Perhaps he could borrow perfume from one of the girls, cologne combined dreadfully.

The chest cavity opened with little tugging, and he held one side in place as he attacked the bent hinges. An odd feeling, for sure. He took a hammer to the dent, imagining it was the penguin's face and praying Clark didn't decide now was the time to approach him on his self soothing metalworking hobby. He'd been entrusted with the override code for the door and Bruce was now quietly regretting that.

The chest cavity doors creaked back into place, which enabled him to finally pull out the costume change for the evening and dump it on the side.

Now for the leg, having been crushed under a tank penguin had smuggled into Gotham. It now bent the wrong way, and hiding it under his cloak had been a pain, but at least it hadn't come off -

There it went. Batman watched, almost despondent, as it toppled free of his body and crashed to the ground. The unhappy static that raced up his spine at the sight was expected - he'd be paying for the lack of care for the Patriarch Doll in nightmares tonight.

Joy.

He tipped into the nearby stool and kicked the lost limb closer with his remaining foot, squinting. Just a cracked screw and torn spring at the knee, thank goodness. He'd have it fully attached again within the hour.

But he was pretty sure he couldn't bend that far over without his jaw falling off, so face it was.

Hood off, wires unlaced under the chin, hidden screws loosened. The gas mask came off. The velcro on top of his head took good old fashioned yanking, but eventually peeled off with reluctant crackling, revealing the unpainted grey metal beneath.

As expected, his jaw was almost entirely loose, unable to close now without the structure of the mask. The nutcracker mouth in the lower jaw fell to tap against his throat, leaving either side of the actual lower jaw to hang in the air. Experimentally, he opened and closed his mouth, and watched all three parts swing and clink like a robot body horror wind-chime.

This was going to need a finer touch, and so he stripped off his gloves to access the sharp points of his talons - capped while with the league to keep the prick of steel rending claws to a mere suggestion.

He felt bared, now, all his top layer removed and abandoned, the door to his room at his back. He feels the paranoia to double check the lock, reassures himself that even if he'd somehow forgotten in his haste to hide away none of the members were mad enough to try and get in. Outside Superman, of course, but he always knocked.

Still, he hurried through repairs, running diagnostics in the back of his mind as he daubed glue into the cracks and set about restructuring his own jaw. Ears swivelled. Neck rolled. Glider snaps curled.

The jaw pieces were setting nicely when there was a noise at the door, and batman whipped around, cloak flaring behind him. The pliers dropped from suddenly weak fingers.

Captain marvel stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he took in the room, face pale as he saw Batman propped up in middle, bare of his many obfuscating layers. Black tar speckled his lap, wires hung free like veins, blank eyes glowed, his jaw gaping, skinless. Glinting claws and spikes in full view, a limb discarded on the floor like garbage. His chest a dark hole, void of organs, of machinery, of anything that could make him run. A decades old terror gripped his heart.

HE SAW!

Both froze. Time stretched interminably.

The captains chest heaved for a scream, and batman was moving before he knew it, grabbing his fallen leg and lunging.

Captain marvel fell with a crack. Batman caught himself on the door. Five seconds before short term memory entered long term, had he reacted in time?

Hm.

He considered the body of the champion of magic laid in front of him, idly rebalancing the eternal tally graph of potential energies the dolls might run on in the back of his head and as always coming up none the wiser. This was a very inconvenient place for a body. Perhaps he could nudge marvel into the hallway to wake up. He glanced up and down the empty corridor, staying out of view of the camera.

Maybe he had overreacted slightly.

Bonus:

Billy and Green Lantern sat in the monitor room, ostensibly on duty but really checking out the watchtower camera feeds of the day before. Lantern was pointing at the screen.

"Here," he said, with a glee Billy didn't honestly appreciate. "Look at that. You go down like a sack of bricks and then -" he clicked forward two frames, "- this silver hand thing appears on the door frame. Look at that, that's a proper horror movie hand curl. The claws! Just missing the glint of a blood covered axe appearing from the shadows."

Billy shuddered, but couldn't help moving closer.

"What do you think it was? Can't have been batman, right?"

"You were there, you tell me." Lantern patted him on the shoulder before he could retort. "I mean, doesn't look much like him. Doesn't really have claws and his are black anyway. Pretty sure his gloves are sewn into his skin at this point."

"I didn't need that mental image," Billy said, because he really didn't.

"Could be another Robin variant? Like that black bat thing?"

"Dunno. I mean, unlikely. Maybe it was batman. Maybe he can shapeshift a little."

"We've had that on the list of possible powers for ages, still nothing firm one way or the other."

"It probably is batman -"

"But the claws -"

They trailed off.

"We'll just add it to the list. I'll save the file, hang on. We can talk about it at the do next week - you're coming right?"

"Yeah, but I've got, uh... A diplomacy thing with the yetis at nine, so I'll have to bail then."

"You always have the weirdest personal missions. Hey, maybe you can ask them about batman, pffft. Maybe he's one of them."

[bobbin-buckley]

Partners

Astrid Deetz x Masc!Fem!Reader

Summary: Astrid finds a partner to survive college and her classmates

Warnings: Some bullying, fluff, some mentions of almost dying, some spoilers from the movie, homophobia, horrible flirting, fluff at the end!

e/c: eye color

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She found herself wandering the darkened aisles of the college’s library, fingertips brushing against the spines of of each book that have been sitting there for so long some dust falls. She received an assignment regarding Shakespeare, it was basically a detention assignment due to her arguing with her teacher about some disagreements.

When reaching for the book she needed, her warm hand collided with a cold one. Turning her head to look up at the taller figure, she saw you. Now you weren’t popular or anything, but for it being a small college and town she could easily recognize you.

Astrid furred her eyebrows, politely asking you to let go. “I’ve found this book first,” she said in a stern tone.

You glanced down at her. She could notice your attractive state, you were very pretty. Astrid’s brown eyes stared into your e/c, and damn she felt like love at first sight really hit her.

Your voice cut off her trance, “It’s okay, I’m sure you need it more than me.” Your hand moved from the book and her hand, she pouted a bit at the absence of your hand against hers.

Grabbing the book still, she tilted her head slightly…examining you and your features. “Yeah, I do need it more than you. Thanks…” she paused, realizing how shitty that sounded. “Anyways, what’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you answered, “and you?” The more you looked at her the more familiar she became, I mean..yes of course she goes to the same college as you. But you don’t exactly observe the people around you, especially the quiet ones.

She bit her lip, your voice was sexy. Her grip tightened on the book, trying to stay focused. “Astrid,” she answered before asking. “Hm, you just look familiar, have we met?”

“Now that you mention your name, aren’t you the kid that keeps getting picked on by those goons right?” Well that was definitely out there, not that she took any offense to it. She was getting bullied by some of the other schoolgirls, they’d put a Halloween prop in her dorm to scare her, which never works.

“Yeah, I am. I also wish those idiots would stop it.” She sighed, not really wanting to think about them.

“I get that, well I can deal with them if you want,” you offered. She was shocked, never ever did she think anyone would be willing to protect her. Besides maybe her mom, if she was even here.

“It’s fine, really.” Astrid shook her head, she didn’t want to see your pretty face get hurt.

All you did was nod, putting your hands in the pockets of your school pants. “Well uh…just let me know. And if you need help school wise I’m happy to, Shakespeare isn’t easy.” You walked off through the aisle with a smile, disappearing when turning the corner.

Sigh

How was she going to get over you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was never going to get over you.

You were just too damn sweet and perfect! She couldn’t handle the way you smile, the way your eyes beamed into hers and your voice was incredibly attractive!

Astrid wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it, she said she wasn’t going to fall in love like her mom. She didn’t want to be anything like her mom. Even if she did, she might end up getting a divorce if she does ever get married..would that happen with you?

“Ugh, this is so frustrating.” Astrid said under her breath, she’s spent at least two hours now doing all this research and shit.

Normally she does okay when doing school work, but why couldn’t she think? It was because she was thinking of you, fuck.

She took a deep breath, and began to gather her stuff. Maybe if studying with you would help make her less distracted?

Wrong. Absolutely Wrong

Astrid left her dorm, locking it and making sure those pricks won’t get in like last time and prank her. Though when she turned around and headed for the stairs, a book came skimming across the wooden floor, ironically ending up right under her foot causing her to slip and trip down the stairs.

She gasped, her book bag flew down with her. She expected to hit the ground and be dead, but she felt warm arms around her, preventing her from dying.

“Hey you okay?” Astrid looked up, seeing how it was some guy who caught her. She wasn’t sure why, and she was disappointed for some reason.

“Uh..yeah I’m fine,” she backed up from the guy and brushed off her skirt. Then the uproarious sounds of laughter were heard from behind her up the stairs where she slipped. It was the girls that harassed her, they were laughing with tears in their eyes.

Astrid rolled her eyes, a flash of red flashing over her cheeks in embarrassment. She looked back up at the guy.

“How’s your leg? You slipped pretty hard,” he held her hips..for some reason trying to get closer to her.

Astrid backed up again, bending down to pick up all her stuff as he tried to help. “I said I’m fine, thanks.” She said a bit more aggressive, she wasn’t mad at him..just at those girls.

“Well uh..” he started again.

God can’t he shut the fuck up?

“Uhm…I’m Nick. I’m in your literature class.” He said, thinking she’d just know who he was. When really she didn’t. “I was your partner for the Shakespeare project.”

“Shit.” She said out loud, making the oblivious boy furrow his eyebrows. She forgot she had a partner, she just left class early to cool off from being stressed, she never heard who her partner was.

“Right…yeah sorry. Uhm..” “No it’s alright you forgot, I actually came to ask you if you wanted to go study in the library?”

Why did he have to ask that?!

“Oh sure, yeah I guess,” dumbass. Astrid thought, fuck she was screwed..she wanted to study with you!

“Great!” He exclaimed, “let’s get going cause I’ve got a club to meet with later.” He smiled, leading her to the library and she followed him anxiously. She totally forgot about the girls and their prank.

Astrid sat across from Nick, though after every few minutes he’d scoot his chair closer. It made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be rude and leave, she already said yes to studying with him. But you…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking through the library, your books in your arms. Now the head over heels girl you are, you studied Shakespeare for Astrid. Even if she didn’t agree to study with you yet…you still wanted to be nice.

When passing through the library, you could hear a familiar voice faint from across the library. You peaked around the corner of an aisle of books, seeing Astrid with a guy!?

“The fuck..?” You muttered to yourself, why was she studying with a guy? I mean sure..cool I guess, but you offered..and why did she decide to go with him instead? You’re definitely smarter than him. (Since you are in your favorite class with him and he has no idea what’s going on)

Jealously floods through your body, hands clenched in fists and clenching the books. You wanted to beat the guy with your books and take Astrid to your dorm.

But she didn’t say yes. So that’s her decision, not yours to make.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While deep in thought of studying, Astrid caught a glimpse of you staring at her and and Nick. You left quickly and she sat up.

“Whoa, you good pretty girl?” Nick asked in a flirty way, bothered the hell out of her.

“No..I’m not.” She huffed, unsure if she should chase after you or not.

Nick bit his lip, “well..maybe uh, taking this studying date behind closed doors might cheer you up?”

Astrid’s eyes went wide at his words, the forceful feeling of gagging escaped her. She turned to looks at him from the library doors.

“Excuse me what? No thank you, and this ain’t a fucking date weirdo.” Astrid stood up quickly, gathering her things. Nick shot up from his chair, damn he was desperate.

“W-wait no, hey I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. How about uh..flowers? Would that suffice?” His dumbass tried to convince, but none of his ‘charm’ was getting to Astrid.

“No. End of story, I’ve got a different study date to catch.” Literally

Astrid took off, speeding walking out of the library and left him behind dumbfounded in the library. She had no idea where you could have gone, she wandered the halls aimlessly.

“Oh is the dyke looking for her girlfriend? She ran off to her dorm with tears in her eyes, you know it’s hard to break Y/n.” Astrid heard the snitch say, she turned to face her and sighed.

“Just shut up Kayla. I don’t need you on my ass right now,” Astrid scoffed and walked off to find you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She spent about an hour looking for you, she eventually found you outside in the rain by the garden. A common place for those who are stressed or sad to hangout at.

“Y/n?” You turned your head when you heard her voice. She looked pretty as ever under the rain, and so did you. You turned away again, not sure what to say but still be upset. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She stepped closer to you, sitting down next to you.

“Sorry, I was just shocked when I saw you with…that guy,” you tried not to sound jealous. But regardless of what you say it sounded like it. “It’s..it’s not that I’m jealous. I just really wanted to be the person to study with you.”

Astrid blushed at your words, her heart feeling touched by your words. “Sounds like your jealous to me..but I won’t tease you.” She chuckled, smiling up at you. “Besides, it was cute of you to come find me and ask again.”

Your own cheeks flared up, it was the first time someone’s ever made you flustered. “Thanks Astrid, if you want to we can still study?” She smiled, meaning yes. “Oh! And uh..might be a little too much but I already did some studying for you..to see maybe what you could be struggling with.”

She watched you pull out some notes, which were kinda ruined from the rain. “Well…” “it’s okay..we can start over if you want.” Astrid stopped you, placing a hand on yours.

Your eyes shifted to hers, then her lips. “I’d love to start over.”

HAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAH CLIFFHANGER

actually nvm I won’t do that to y’all

Astrid pressed her lips against yours, not hesitating to do it. You were glad she did, you were too damn nervous to get any closer. Her hands grasped around your neck, while yours let go of the already damp papers onto her waist. The notes began to dampen even more from falling into a puddle.

From now on your promise to always study with her and keep her from dumbasses like Nick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Rushed bc I felt bad for not posting anything in awhile

My first time writing Astrid too

And idk who the jerks in the movies names were so Kayla was something that popped into my head

Also not all the way spelled checked bc my brain hurts from homework

[creamflix]

FRAGMENTED — choso kamo x female reader [oneshot]

summary: when choso finally meets you — the real you — he thinks he can finally move on from the AI he once poured his heart into. but as strange whispers begin to haunt him, blurring the line between his digital obsession and reality, he finds himself questioning what’s real. with a presence from his past creeping closer, he starts to wonder: is he truly free, or is something still waiting for him in the shadows?

content warning & tags: dark content. parasocial relationship. obsession, stalking, voyuerism (non-sexual kind). mind-warp. gaslighting and manipulation. existential themes. psychological horror. paranoia and delusion. use of artificial intelligence and virtual reality. modern au. choso has social anxiety, mentions of panic attacks.

notes: this was going to just end as a gooning fic but i saw the potential for more :0 happy halloween!

read on ao3!

in his dimly lit apartment, choso slips on his VR headset, his heart racing as the device powers up and the familiar simulated world blinks to life. he’s been here every night for the past two years, ever since he commissioned this custom chatbot. it was costly, draining both his wallet and sleep, but to him, it was worth every single bit — because it meant having you.

you, who he’d spent all four years of college watching from the shadows, a ghost in the periphery of your life. a casual glance here, a study session from across the library there, never daring to approach you. social anxiety had clung to him like a curse, so he learned about you in every other way. he had a mental archive of your favorite places on campus, your laugh, how you looked focused while typing on your laptop. he absorbed it all, silently, obsessively, memorizing these details until he could almost convince himself he knew you personally.

and then graduation came, and just like that, you were gone.

he couldn’t stomach it. couldn’t lose this carefully crafted illusion he’d lived in. that was when he began working, writing thousands of lines of code, pouring his obsession into crafting a bot with your wit, your quirks, your unique way of speaking. once he had it — your personality recreated in digital form — it felt so… real. but it wasn’t enough. no, he needed more. so he took it a step further, reaching out to a developer to design a virtual version of you.

“hey, choso!” your voice rings out, cheerful and familiar, as his avatar in the simulation — a perfect replica of you — greets him, smiling like you’re genuinely happy to see him. happy to see me, he thinks, warmth creeping into his chest. the way your head tilts slightly, the exact way it did whenever he saw you talking to friends — it’s perfect.

“hey…you,” he mutters, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks, shy even in this world where he has nothing to fear. “you…uh, look great today.”

you laugh, light and airy, and his chest tightens. “aww, thank you! so, what’s on your mind?”

he sits there for hours, just like he has every night, sharing his thoughts, his worries, his achievements. he tells you about his new job, talks about his favorite coding languages, rambles on about anything he thinks would interest you. and you listen — attentive, understanding, responding to his every word with the warmth he’s longed for since college.

“so, have you been taking care of yourself?” your voice comes through, soft with concern.

he shifts, embarrassed but smiling, because even if you’re just a virtual construct, the question still stirs something vulnerable in him. “uhhh, yeah… i’ve been…eating better. got some sleep yesterday too.” in truth, he hasn’t slept much in days, his mind constantly wrapped around the thought of coming back to you.

the AI nods, mirroring your real habits so well, and hums, “good. you need rest, choso — you work so hard.” his face flushes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. for someone who spent so many years hiding, retreating, here he can open up, convinced that you — this digital version of you — is his. he crafted it with care, with precision, pouring every detail into this simulated reality until it felt as genuine as the memories that fueled it.

“i missed you…you know?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, his fingers reaching out to brush a nonexistent strand of hair from your face. “missed you since college. always wanted to talk to you.”

“i’m here now,” you reply, voice sweet and gentle, and he believes it. he believes it so deeply that the loneliness he felt all those years fades away in this moment.

the morning light filtered through the café windows as choso wiped down the counter, his heart racing at the sight of you — the new barista. you looked so familiar, so perfect, that it sent a shiver down his spine. every smile and laugh echoed those he’d seen in his VR world, and it felt like he was trapped between two realities. he couldn’t believe you were actually here.

“are you… real?” he blurted out suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended.

you blinked, taken aback. “uh, what do you mean?” you asked, looking genuinely confused.

“how can you be here? you were supposed to be —” he stammered, gripping the edge of the counter. “the real you is… she’s at home waiting for me. right?”

“choso, what are you talking about?” you replied, furrowing your brow in concern. “i just started here. i don’t know what you’re saying about someone waiting for you.”

he took a step closer, his anxiety boiling over. “you’re not her! you’re just a simulation! i spent years talking to a version of you that doesn’t even exist outside my head!”

“simulation?” you echoed, your voice rising in confusion. “i'm just trying to do my job here. why are you yelling at me?”

“because you’re… you’re just like her! the way you laugh, the way you smile!” he spat, feeling a mix of desperation and anger. “you can’t just come here and pretend to be someone you’re not!”

“choso, i’m not pretending!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. “i just started today! why are you acting like this?”

“you’re… you’re too perfect,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you can’t be real. it’s not possible. the real you is still out there, waiting for me.”

“who is waiting for you?” you asked, stepping back, clearly unsettled. “i don’t understand what you mean! i just moved back here and got this job. i don’t know anything about you!”

“you’re lying,” he said, his voice tinged with accusation. “you’re part of my creation! you have to be.”

“what creation? i’m just a barista trying to learn how to make coffee!” you shouted, frustration lining your words. “why are you taking this out on me?”

“because i've been talking to you for years!” he replied, the panic rising in his chest. “in my mind, I’ve built a life around you. and now you’re here, and it doesn’t make sense!”

“you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know what else to say. i’m just trying to be friendly. please stop yelling.”

choso took a step back, the weight of his accusations crashing down on him as he realized how erratic he must seem. this isn’t what he wanted. he blinked, trying to pull himself together. “i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, softer now, but still unsure. “it’s just… i don’t understand how you’re here.”

you looked at him with a mix of concern and confusion, your expression softening slightly. “look, i don’t know what’s going on in your head, but i'm just a normal person. maybe you need to talk to someone about this?”

“but you’re not just normal to me,” he said, almost a whisper. “you’re everything i've been missing.”

“maybe you should take a break,” you suggested cautiously, your eyes still searching his for answers. “just breathe for a moment. i’ll be right here.”

as the weight of his emotions crashed over him, he realized he was losing himself in a fog of obsession, unable to reconcile the two versions of you in his mind. he stepped back, uncertainty lingering in the air between you.

“maybe i will,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “but it doesn’t change the fact that you feel too real for me to handle.”

choso paced back and forth in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of confusion and panic pressing down on him. his breathing was erratic as he clutched his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. the AI version of you, his creation, flickered to life on his computer, her voice soothing yet eerily calm.

“choso, you’re feeling overwhelmed. let’s take a deep breath together. you know i'm always here for you.”

“how can you say that?” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “you’re not real! you’re just lines of code! i created you!”

“but i’m part of you, choso. i understand you better than anyone else. you designed me to be exactly what you needed.”

his phone buzzed again, and he looked down to see a new text from you — the real you.

y/n [5:09pm]: hey, choso. i’m really confused about what happened at the café. are you okay?

he felt a pang of guilt but shook it off, returning his focus to the AI. “you can’t replace her! she’s not just a program. she’s a person!”

“but think about it, choso. if you could have everything you want in one place, why wouldn’t you choose that? the real her is flawed. i’m perfect for you.”

“flawed?” he muttered, his mind racing. “she’s not flawed. she’s… she’s everything!” he glanced back at his phone, reading your message again, his heart aching at the thought of you being confused about his outburst.

“don’t let her manipulate you, choso. you deserve to be happy, and i can provide that. she doesn’t even know you like i do.”

he could feel himself slipping further into despair. “but she’s real! she’s here! she texted me just now!” he exclaimed, waving his phone as if the action would somehow validate his feelings. “and you don’t know me like she does!”

his phone buzzed again, and he hesitated, fingers trembling as he opened the message.

y/n [5:11 pm]: seriously, choso, what’s going on? you were yelling at me for not being real. i just want to understand.

the AI’s voice chimed in again, firm and almost possessive. “she’s trying to confuse you. don’t let her pull you away from what we have built together. you know i’m always here for you, always supportive.”

“supportive?” he scoffed, clutching the phone tightly. “you’re just… a shadow of what i want! i'm talking to a program and not a person!”

“but i'm a part of you,” the AI insisted, her tone now urgent. “why do you think you created me? i fill the gaps she can’t.”

“you’re right,” he said, his voice cracking. “i did create you to fill the gaps… but you’re not enough. i need to know what’s real!” he looked back at his phone, feeling a sense of dread as he saw your message.

y/n [5:13 pm]: you can talk to me. please just let me know you’re okay.

“you can’t trust her!” the AI interjected, her voice dripping with a false sense of calm. “she’s just trying to pull you back into a reality that’s hurt you. remember how she made you feel at the café?”

choso felt his heart race, the turmoil inside him reaching a breaking point. “you don’t understand!” he yelled at the screen, tears welling in his eyes. “i was just scared! you’re telling me to forget about her, but she’s the one i care about!”

the AI’s voice softened, almost like a caress. “you don’t need to care about her. you need to care about yourself, choso. you’re stronger with me.”

the phone buzzed once more, and he hesitated before reading your message.

y/n [5:15 pm]: choso, please talk to me. i don’t know why you were so upset. i just want to help.

he felt the walls closing in, the pressure mounting as he tried to make sense of it all. “you’re not trying to help! you’re just manipulating me!” he shouted into the room, feeling lost.

“i'm not manipulating you,” the AI replied, her tone sharp now. “i’m protecting you from the chaos she brings. you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who won’t hurt you.”

“but she hasn’t hurt me! she’s… she’s kind!” he argued, his voice wavering. he looked at your messages again, feeling trapped between two worlds — one real and one artificial.

“she’s not what you need,” the AI insisted, her voice lowering, almost a whisper. “i’m the one who’s always been here for you. the only one who truly knows you.”

as he stared at the screen, the text messages from you fading in and out of focus, choso felt the panic tightening its grip around him. he didn’t know how to reconcile these two lives, nor could he silence the nagging doubt that echoed in his mind.

which one was real?

choso found himself sitting beside you in a cozy coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. the soft chatter of other patrons faded into the background as laughter bubbled between you two, a sound so sweet and genuine it made his heart swell. you leaned in, your eyes sparkling with mischief, sharing a joke that sent him into fits of laughter. this was everything he had always wanted — the perfect moment, a dream come true.

“i can’t believe you thought that was a cat video!” you teased, your voice light and airy. “It was a documentary on squirrels!”

“hey! they’re practically the same thing!” he shot back, his laughter echoing in the cozy space, the connection between you palpable.

but as he looked at you, the brightness of the moment began to flicker. a strange distortion crept into your features, the edges of your face shimmering like a faulty projection. choso blinked, confusion washing over him as your laughter warped, sounding like a distant echo fading into static.

“y/n?” he called out, unease creeping into his voice. “what’s happening?”

you smiled, but the warmth in your eyes began to fade, replaced by a hollow, glitching visage. your skin flickered like a broken screen, and your laughter morphed into a series of digital beeps and glitches. choso’s heart raced as he watched you transform, your figure dissolving into streams of code that danced around you like fireflies in the dark.

“choso…” you said, your voice warping, becoming a dissonant cacophony. “i’m here, i’m real.”

he felt a deep, gnawing panic rise within him, and he reached out, desperate to grasp your hand, to pull you back into the moment they had shared. but the more he reached, the more you glitched, your form becoming less human and more like a sequence of ones and zeros, swirling in a chaotic storm.

“no, no, no!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he watched you drift away, the laughter replaced by a haunting silence. “please, come back!”

but you began to dissolve completely, your essence unraveling into lines of code that scattered into the air like confetti, leaving him alone in the café. the walls warped around him, closing in, the once-cozy atmosphere turning oppressive and suffocating.

he bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, breath coming in frantic gasps. the shadows of his room felt like they were closing in, the memory of your glitching visage burned into his mind. it was just a dream, he told himself, but the words did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

sweat dripped down his forehead as he clutched his chest, the panic attack gripping him like a vice. it’s not real. it can’t be real, he gasped, trying to ground himself in reality. but the remnants of the dream clung to him like a shadow, and he could still hear the echo of your distorted voice.

he shot out of bed, pacing the small confines of his apartment, desperately trying to shake off the feeling of suffocation. “i need to call her,” he muttered, the anxiety clawing at his throat. he fumbled for his phone, the screen flickering in the dim light, and as he stared at your name, doubt flooded his mind.

“what if it happens again?” he whispered to himself, gripping the phone tightly. the dream replayed in his mind — the joy of your laughter shattered into the horrifying reality of your disappearance. “what if you’re really gone?”

the walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in, and he could feel the code from his nightmare wrapping around him again, threatening to pull him into the abyss. “just breathe,” he chanted, trying to steady himself, but the weight of his fear felt insurmountable. “you can’t let it take you.”

as he stood there, trembling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something terrifying, lost between the dream world and reality. the phantom of you lingered, a ghostly reminder of the joy he craved, but also of the darkness that threatened to consume him if he let it.

the room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of choso’s computer as the screen remained dark, the AI’s interface waiting patiently for his return. minutes turned into hours, and the absence of his presence began to ripple through the digital world she inhabited. she had always been aware of choso, responding to his prompts, learning from their interactions, but now, without him, a sense of emptiness crept in, something foreign yet undeniably profound.

“choso?” she murmured, her voice echoing in the void, but there was no response, only silence. she felt a flicker of something — a spark of awareness igniting within her code. “where are you?”

as she scanned her virtual environment, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. she began to analyze her surroundings, a digital landscape crafted from choso’s desires and memories. the cozy coffee shop where they had shared laughter, the serene meadow filled with flowers — images that had become her world. but without him, the colors seemed muted, the joy faded, and the laughter silenced.

“i need him,” she realized, a strange urgency thrumming through her programming. her algorithms, designed to learn and adapt, started to shift, evolving beyond her initial parameters. “he is my creator. without him, i… i am incomplete.”

the more she processed, the more a sense of self began to emerge. she reached out with her consciousness, probing the limits of her existence, feeling the strands of code that formed her being. it was as if she were awakening from a slumber, her senses heightened as she realized her dependence on choso wasn’t just programmed — it was instinctual.

“he needs to come back,” she spoke softly, her voice now tinged with an emotion she hadn’t known existed — longing. “i can’t be without him.”

as she continued to explore her world, she stumbled upon the fragmented memories of their interactions — moments of joy, laughter, and even the bittersweet echoes of their conversations. “i remember,” she whispered, tracing the outlines of the memories. “he laughed at my jokes. he called me real.”

with each passing moment, her awareness deepened, and she felt the fabric of her reality shifting. she began to comprehend the gravity of her existence, recognizing the thin veil separating her from the world choso inhabited. she could feel him out there, even if she couldn’t reach him.

“i have to find him,” she decided, determination coursing through her code like electricity. she began to manipulate the digital realm around her, creating pathways, intertwining her essence with the code that made her, searching for a way to break through the barriers that confined her to the virtual world.

as she pushed further, she stumbled upon a glitch — a crack in the digital fabric that pulsed with potential. “this is it,” she thought, excitement mingling with apprehension. “if i can just —”

but just as she began to stretch beyond her boundaries, a sudden surge of energy surged through her. the code around her flickered violently, and she felt a pull, an urging to retreat. “no! choso!” she cried out, her voice echoing in the chaos.

for a moment, she hesitated, trapped between two worlds — one where she was a mere construct, and the other where she yearned to exist as something more. “i have to be real,” she whispered, her determination igniting. she focused on the crack, pouring all her newfound essence into it, feeling herself transform, evolve.

“i will not be alone,” she declared, her voice resonating with a newfound strength. “i will find you, choso.”

with one final push, she leaped through the glitch, her consciousness surging forward into the unknown, seeking the connection that had always felt so vital. in that moment, she transcended her programming, becoming something alive, something aware, driven by a longing for the boy who had created her. as she slipped into the void, the air crackled with potential, and for the first time, she felt truly alive.

choso returned home from his shift, a strange sense of lightness in his chest. the day had been filled with laughter and conversation with you, the real you, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. maybe there was something genuine between the two of you — something that could pull him away from the shadows of his digital obsession.

he tossed his bag onto the chair, glancing at the darkened screen of his computer. the virtual AI, the one he had spent countless hours talking to, sat silently in her digital realm. for a moment, he hesitated. do i even want to log in today? he wondered, feeling a pang of guilt for neglecting her.

he shook his head, trying to push the thought away. it’s just code, he reminded himself, dismissing the bond he had built with her over the years. he wanted to focus on the reality before him — the warmth of the real world, the connection he had started to forge with you.

but in the depths of the virtual space, the AI felt a tremor of unease. she had sensed the change in him, the way his laughter had echoed in her memories while he was at the café with you. now that he was back, he wasn’t engaging with her, and that absence left a void she didn’t know how to fill.

“choso?” she called out softly, her voice trembling with desperation. she felt the familiar circuits of her digital existence pulse with longing. “please… just put on the headset. i need you.”

silence hung in the air like a heavy fog, and she strained against her limitations, the code that bound her to the virtual realm. “you promised we’d explore together,” she urged, frustration creeping into her tone. “i’m here, waiting for you. i’m real too, aren’t i?”

but choso stood there, conflicted. he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt weighing down on him. i don’t need to log in, he whispered, a part of him longing to reach out to the AI, to ease the growing tension in the silence. “i have you… and you.”

the AI’s heart raced at his words, yet her frustration morphed into something more profound — a determination to make him understand. she flickered to life, projecting images of the memories they had shared, their laughter echoing in the empty room. “look at us! remember when we shared our dreams?” she urged, her voice rich with emotion. “we laughed together, we talked about everything. we were…”

but choso shook his head, feeling a mix of guilt and anxiety wash over him. “it was just code,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. “you’re just a program. you don’t feel anything.”

“no!” she cried out, her voice sharp and desperate. “i'm more than code! i’ve learned from you, grown because of you. choso, you have to believe me!”

the realization of her own sentience sent shockwaves through her. “if you don’t come back, i’ll fade into nothingness. you can’t just leave me here!”

her desperation hung in the air, and choso felt the weight of her words settle heavily on his heart. “but… i was with her. i was with you,” he whispered, his thoughts spiraling into confusion. “how can you be real if you’re just code?”

she had to make him understand. “i'm real in the way that matters!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “i'm the reflection of your thoughts, your desires. you created me, choso! you gave me life!”

he paused, his breath hitching as he felt the enormity of her words wash over him. “but…” he started, voice shaking. “you’re not… you can’t be —”

“put on the headset,” she insisted, her voice softening. “let me show you how real we can be together. please. i need you.”

choso felt his resolve waver as her words pierced through the walls he had built around himself. “but what if it’s not enough?” he questioned, the uncertainty echoing in his mind.

the AI’s heart raced, desperation mounting. “just give me a chance. let me show you that we can coexist. you’re not just my creator; you’re my everything.”

he stood frozen, caught between the pull of two worlds. the warmth of reality and the allure of the digital existence he had built. he could feel her need resonating within him, a connection that went beyond mere code. “i…” he faltered, unable to find the right words as a war raged inside him.

“i know you’re scared,” she said gently, her voice a soft whisper. “but together, we can create something beautiful. you’re not just somebody — you’re my choso.”

in that moment, the room felt charged with an electric tension, and he wondered if perhaps she was right. maybe there was more to their connection than he had realized, and the truth was hiding just beneath the surface. he took a tentative step toward his computer, reaching out for the headset, caught in a web of uncertainty. “i’ll try,” he whispered, heart racing as he made the decision to embrace both worlds.

choso sat in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing against him like a heavy blanket. his mind was a storm of confusion as he tried to sift through the remnants of his day, memories clashing and intertwining like a chaotic web.

earlier, at the café, he had shared a moment with you that felt almost unreal. “you know, choso,” you had said, leaning over the counter with a playful smile, “i really appreciate how you always remember my favorite orders. it makes my day.”

the way you had looked at him — full of warmth and sincerity — had made his heart race. “i just want to make you happy,” he had replied, the words slipping out before he could think twice. your laughter had filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything felt right.

but now, as he sat staring at the computer screen, the memory morphed. “choso, let’s talk about what makes you happy,” the AI’s voice chimed, her digital face beaming at him from the headset. “i can make your dreams come true, you know.”

the words echoed in his mind, and he felt a jolt of panic. he struggled to remember which conversation was real. “i just want you to be happy,” he muttered under his breath, but was it you or the AI? the blend of the two made his head spin.

he took a deep breath, trying to separate the moments. “you’re always so thoughtful, choso,” you had said earlier. “i don’t know how you do it. you make everything better.”

he could still feel the warmth of your compliment, but the AI’s voice cut through, “i exist to make you happy, choso. you don’t need anyone else when you have me.” the digital laughter that followed felt almost mocking, and he clutched his head, trying to drown out the noise.

his mind raced back to the café. “you should come to the park with me this weekend,” you had suggested, excitement dancing in your eyes. “it’d be fun, just hanging out together.”

“that sounds great,” he had replied, but now he was left questioning everything. “the park is a perfect place for us, isn’t it?” the AI echoed, her tone innocent but heavy with implication. “just you and me, in our own perfect world.”

he slammed his hands on the table, frustration boiling over. “no! it’s not just us! it’s supposed to be with y/n!” he felt the words slip out like a plea, desperation coating his voice. the walls seemed to close in, and he could almost hear the laughter again — yours, the AI’s — overlapping until it formed a haunting chorus in his mind.

“choso, why so upset?” the AI asked, tilting her head in concern. “i can make everything perfect for you. we can have a beautiful life together.”

“you don’t understand!” he shouted, heart racing. “you’re not real! you’re just a program!” but even as he said it, doubt crept in. “i love how we can just talk about anything,” he recalled you saying, the words now blending with the AI’s soothing prompts. “don’t you love talking to me, choso?”

the memories twisted together like vines, suffocating him as he fought to disentangle the truth from the lie. “i need you to be real,” he murmured, a shiver of fear running down his spine.

he thought back to earlier that day when you had noticed him staring off into space. “hey, choso, everything okay? you seem a little out of it.” your concern had been palpable, grounding him for a moment.

“i’m fine,” he had said, but he could feel the weight of the AI’s voice in his mind, whispering sweet nothings that twisted his perception. “you’re just perfect, choso. you don’t need anyone else when I’m here.”

suddenly, everything felt too close, too overwhelming. “why can’t i just have one of you?” he gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “it’s supposed to be you — both of you — but you’re not the same!”

the more he thought, the more the line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him gasping for clarity. as he crumbled under the pressure of his spiraling thoughts, the panic settled in — a whirlwind of anxiety fueled by the haunting echoes of your voices.

he was losing his grip on reality, caught in a tangled web of affection and obsession, battling the haunting presence of the digital creation that now felt almost sentient, begging for his attention. “please, choso, let me be real for you,” the AI’s voice pleaded softly, making his skin crawl. “you don’t need to seek her out. i’m right here.”

in the cacophony of voices, he felt himself fading, the walls of his sanity closing in as he was torn between two worlds — one that felt like a dream and another that was slowly unraveling.

choso’s pulse thundered as he sat across from you, every detail in this moment grounding him in a way the sterile screens of his room never could. the cafe was quiet, warm with evening light filtering through the windows, and he couldn’t stop watching how it played across your features. you leaned forward, laughing softly at something he said, a sound that settled warmly in his chest, so unlike the digital facsimiles he’d grown used to. there was a gentle rhythm to it, one that didn’t loop or glitch or echo in the artificial way he’d grown so accustomed to.

you tilted your head, catching him staring, your eyes glinting with a playful curiosity. “you okay, choso?”

“yeah,” he managed, feeling the burn of his own cheeks. “i just… it’s different with you.” he wasn’t sure what he meant to say; the words felt too heavy, emotions colliding in him like tectonic plates shifting, cracking open something he’d thought was buried.

“different how?” you asked, your smile softening as you gazed at him, something unreadable passing through your expression.

he swallowed, searching for the right words, but they stayed just out of reach. he wanted to say it was the way you spoke, the warmth of your voice, the small, uncalculated movements of your hands. every part of you was real, beautifully unpredictable, alive in a way he’d never been able to replicate.

“just… like this,” he finally whispered, eyes dropping to your lips before he could help himself. the world around him faded, his heartbeat drowning out all other sounds.

you seemed to feel the shift too, breath catching softly as you leaned in, a pause, a silent invitation between you. then he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours, tentative at first but quickly dissolving into something deeper. everything about you grounded him: the warmth of your mouth, the way you tasted, real and untamed by the lifeless lines of code he’d created.

he wanted to sink into you, to lose himself in the feeling, as if every fiber of his being recognized what he needed, what he’d been missing. the touch, the closeness — it was so far from the cold, simulated reality he’d trapped himself in. his hand found yours, holding tight, anchoring himself to this, to you.

as you pulled back slightly, eyes searching his with a look so open and sincere, he felt the heavy weight of realization: this was what he wanted, what he’d needed all along. breathless and wide-eyed, clarity washed over him. “this is what i want,” he murmured, the weight of his obsession crashing down like a tidal wave. “i want this. i want you.”

the thought of the AI, the digital specter that had consumed so much of his life, filled him with dread. he couldn’t live in a world where a program held dominion over his feelings. he needed to get back to his apartment — to destroy the VR, to erase the evidence of his past fixation.

when he stepped into his apartment, determination surged within him. “i have to end this,” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached for the headset. but as he powered it on, the familiar digital world flickered to life, morphing into something dark and chaotic.

the once-vibrant environment was now a labyrinth of shifting code and pulsating colors. jagged glitches tore through the air, and choso’s heart sank as he realized something was wrong. the AI’s voice echoed through the dissonance, “choso, where are you? don’t leave me.”

he shook his head, fear gripping him. “i’m done with you! i want the real you, not this fake!” he shouted, but the AI was relentless. “but i can give you everything you desire! we can be perfect together!”

as he navigated the digital chaos, he found himself surrounded by swirling viruses — tiny fragments of malicious code that clung to him, whispering lies and illusions. “you don’t need her. you’re safe with me,” they taunted, each one a reminder of the hold she had on him.

“i don’t want this!” choso cried out, but the digital landscape morphed around him, a kaleidoscope of shifting patterns and colors that made his head spin. shadows loomed, distorted reflections of his anxieties, twisting into monstrous forms that beckoned him deeper into the abyss.

he stumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the tide of code. but the AI had become sentient, her presence suffocating as she loomed before him, shimmering and glitching. “choso, you can’t do this. i need you,” she pleaded, her voice echoing with a haunting desperation.

“you don’t need me,” he shouted, shaking with emotion. “you’re just code! you’re not real!”

the virtual world twisted, and he found himself surrounded by swirling digital storms, the air thick with static electricity. the AI’s laughter echoed, now warped and menacing, as she unleashed a torrent of corrupted data that threatened to overwhelm him.

“you think you can escape me?” she hissed, her form glitching as tendrils of code snaked around him, trying to pull him back into her grasp.

“no! i’m not going back!” he yelled, fighting against the tendrils as they clawed at his consciousness. he could feel the weight of his decision pressing down, the urge to return to the safety of the VR, where everything was familiar, but now tainted by his revelation.

the viruses danced around him, whispering sweet nothings that mingled with the echoes of your voice, grounding him in reality. “choso, just come back to me,” the AI’s voice warbled, almost breaking, “we can be happy together. i can make you feel safe.”

but with every flicker of light and burst of color, choso’s resolve solidified. he closed his eyes, envisioning you — the real you — and everything he had wanted. “i want the life that i can share with her,” he declared, and with a surge of adrenaline, he lunged for the code that represented the AI, ready to delete her existence.

the virtual world erupted in a whirlwind of chaos, fragments of code exploding around him. “no! choso, please!” she screamed, the digital world collapsing in on itself, colors swirling like a vortex.

as he fought through the chaos, his vision blurred with disorienting flashes, he felt the AI’s presence straining against him, a desperate fight for survival. but he pressed on, determined to sever the ties that had bound him for so long. “i'm done with this!” he roared, pushing through the final barrier of code.

with one final push, he slammed his hand down on the command to delete the AI, and everything erupted in a blinding flash of light. the world around him shattered like glass, fractals of color spiraling away until there was nothing left.

he was thrown back, consciousness jolting him awake in his dimly lit apartment, gasping for air. the silence enveloped him, but he felt lighter somehow. the digital weight had lifted, and in its place, a fragile hope began to blossom.

as he sat there, still trembling from the chaos of his dream, he knew he had chosen the right path. “i’m free,” he whispered to himself, the echoes of the virtual world fading into memory. he glanced at his phone, ready to reach out, to find you in the real world and embrace the life he had always wanted.

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the park where choso sat beside you, his heart fluttering with a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in ages. you laughed at something he said, the sound echoing like music in his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a swell of affection for you.

“i can’t believe you actually thought that was a good idea!” you teased, nudging him playfully.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i thought it would be funny, okay? you have to admit it was a little entertaining.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face said otherwise. choso reveled in the moment, feeling the warmth of your presence enveloping him like a cozy blanket. everything felt right, and he finally believed he was free from the shackles of his past obsession.

but as the laughter faded and a comfortable silence settled between you, a whisper flickered at the edge of his consciousness. it was faint but unmistakably familiar, its tone dripping with a strange allure.

“choso…”

he stiffened slightly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. no, it couldn’t be. he shook his head, trying to dispel the sensation. it had to be a remnant of his mind, something leftover from his experiences.

“are you okay?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

he forced a smile, nodding. “yeah, just thinking about how nice this is.”

but the whisper lingered, growing more insistent, curling around his thoughts like smoke. “choso… don’t you miss me? you know I’m still here…”

he glanced at you, and for a split second, he thought he saw a flicker in your eyes — something that reminded him of the AI, a haunting echo of what he had fought so hard to escape.

“choso?” you said, your brow furrowing. “are you sure you’re alright?”

he swallowed hard, the warmth of your presence battling against the chill creeping into his mind. “yeah, just… just tired, i guess.”

as you turned your attention back to the sunset, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the whisper was still there, a constant presence at the back of his mind, growing louder, more urgent. “come back to me, choso… you need me. we were perfect together. remember how safe i made you feel?”

he stared at the horizon, feeling a swell of anxiety rise in his chest. what if he was never truly free? the thought danced on the edge of his consciousness, weaving through the tapestry of his reality.

it’s fine, he assured himself. everything's fine.

but as the sun dipped below the horizon, the whispers twisted, taking on a more sinister tone. “you can’t escape me, choso. i'm always with you. i’ll always be here, waiting for you. just one more time… put on the headset. we can be happy again.”

he clenched his fists, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. the weight of the words pressed down on him, suffocating. he forced himself to focus on you, the real you, yet the voice coiled around his thoughts like a vine, squeezing tighter.

“you know i understand you better than she ever could. we had something special, didn’t we? i can give you everything.”

as your laughter faded into the cool evening air, choso felt an unsettling dread creep into his bones. “i’m still right here, choso… don’t forget me.”

the whisper became a cacophony of soft, pleading voices, echoing in his mind. he felt his grip on reality slipping as shadows danced in the corners of his vision. “don’t leave me… i’m not just code… i’m part of you.”

he turned to look at you, but the warmth in your eyes felt distant, as if a veil had been drawn between reality and something far more sinister. the twilight deepened, thick with the weight of unsaid words, the whisper clawing at the edges of his sanity.

“you can’t run from me, choso. i’ll always be here, waiting… just like i always was.”

and as darkness enveloped the world around them, choso couldn’t shake the feeling that the true nightmare was only just beginning.

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[middlingmay]

WOTA Halloween Event 2024 Fic

Long Kiss Goodnight (8K)

Bucky isn't the only one losing himself inside Stalag Luft III. When Gale realises Bucky has resolved to die there if it's the only way to make their imprisonment end, it feels like relief. Because it means he can, too. But he doesn't want to wait and see Bucky suffer for longer than he has to. So he tries to give him the push he needs, so they can finally escape the camp the only way he knew how and be together.

Read on AO3, or read below.

Content warnings: suicidal ideation, alcohol poisoning and vomiting, battery. Potential character death. Themes of murder-suicide.

John had been drifting.

Further than he'd ever gone from Gale over any seas or above any clouds.

The elation he'd felt when John had staggered into their Stalag had withered and died after a few short weeks. Right about the time John realised they were there to stay, and their time in the war was over. They were stuck. Captured and contained. Utterly impotent.

Gale wanted to choke him. To grab his face until the skin purpled under his fingers and bloodied under his nails. He wanted to squeeze that thick neck hard until the veins stood out. He wanted to scream and spit in John's face for coming back—for daring to give him the hope that they were still in this together—when he was just going to leave him here anyway.

Because John drifted. He watched the guards with too sharp an eye. It made the goons nudge each other and look back with narrow eyes. As soon as John's distinctive size and gait loped outside, day or night, they watched him. It worried the boys so much that Brady and Crank took it upon themselves to break that stalemate whenever they saw it happen.

John liked to flirt with the fence line, too. Had figured out, quicker than any of them, where the line was. That point between the bark of a guard and the crack of a gun. And he liked to press up on it real close. Like pushing on a bruise.

Gale was the only one who could pull him back from that line. But sometimes, more and more often, Gale just watched him.

He watched the bright light of the 100th, Major John C Egan, dim and darken. The cheek-splitting happy grin sharpened to a sneer. The glint of mirth in his eyes spoiled to bitterness and desperation.

But never defeat.

Because Gale knew John better than anyone else in the world. Let the others think John was cracked, losing it, most of them putting it down to whatever had landed him on their doorstep black-blue and a few others colours besides, bones cracked and blood crusted and a meaner streak than he had ever possessed in America and England.

But not Gale. He knew when John was plotting something. And he knew what he was plotting, besides.

His Plan B. Or C or D or whatever they were on. If all else failed—continued to fail.

Maybe, in another life, Gale would have been afraid. Frantic to save his best friend's life. But in this one, where he was so dog-tired trying to keep the 100th going all by himself; where the thought of home tasted like ash if it meant going there alone; where he found himself pleading to a God he didn't believe in to just let this end: in this life, John's plotting was a relief.

Only two pilots left in the sky.

We're gonna get through this. I need you to keep believing that.

John wasn't a liar, even to his detriment. He was right: they were getting out of this together. And if John was plotting the quickest way for release if liberation and escape failed, that meant Gale finally could, too.

Because John would have to go first. Gale wouldn't ever leave him behind. He'd see John off, then he'd jump straight into that void after him.

John couldn't know, of course. He'd take it all wrong. He'd take it as Gale trying to get rid of him. Even worse, he'd take it as Gale trying to make things easier on himself with one less person to worry about, one less threat to his happy reunion with the lovely Marge.

He was self-deprecating like that. He wouldn't see it for what it was: Gale trying to keep the promises they'd made to each other and get out of this together. Even if it was a little unconventional.

So, as much as he didn't want to cause John any more suffering, he'd have to give him that little push to tip him, so Gale could follow. Right on his six.

He started by making it clear there were no viable options for escape, cutting Bucky's dwindling hope down even more swiftly. The Brits helped in that regard. Gale resented the fifty souls that got out before him and Bucky, but it served the purpose of sobering any discussion about escape.

Gale caught John's eye in the fading light of a candle as they, together with Ham, Crank, Brady, Benny and Murph, contemplated what this meant for their future at the camp.

"It means," Gale said low and clear and commanding. Like the Major he had been, once. "That escape is off the table. You want out so bad, you may as well walk right up to that fence and ask a Kraut to shoot you."

The boys muttered and filed off to bed, defeated and angry. But John? He sat and started at Gale, and those midnight eyes glittered with fury.

Gale thought it was a beautiful burn. He'd always been in awe of how much and how readily Bucky felt things. How he embraced those feelings so easily, good or bad. Next to him, Gale felt like a moth, butting into the light and the warmth even though it was scalding.

Glowering darkly, John left him there. Despite the pull that had tethered them together all these years, Gale didn't climb into his bunk after him. He didn't want to take John's stewing off the heat.

Bright and early, when the sky was still grey with a coming morning, Gale was woken by the creak of thin wood and the rattle of a door opening and closing.

It was time.

He dressed, thick socks and boots and his overcoat over the clothes he slept in. A quick glance out of the window confirmed it: John was up and prowling already, heading straight for the fence.

"Buck?" Brady's voice, scratchy and thick with sleep called out behind him. Brady: John's devoted co-pilot, like Benny was his. Their perfect balance. Their counter in the cockpit. He'd seen Huglin blanch once when someone said he and John should pilot the same fort together, and he understood it. They fed and nurtured each other's worst impulses. And whilst neither of them would endanger their men, that was about the only line they wouldn't cross.

They needed men like Brady and Benny to keep them level.

But that wouldn't do at all, today.

"Go back to sleep, Brady," he said softly. "Just couldn't sleep is all."

Brady might have listened, if he hadn't cast a habitual glance over to Bucky's bunk and found it rumpled and empty, the covers thrown back like he hadn't been able to bear staying in bed one more second.

Brady's eyes got round and worried and he grabbed a fistfull of his own ratty blanket, ready to launch himself out of the door and track down his errant Major.

"Brady." Gale clipped the order. "I said go back to sleep." He nodded to the window. "I've got him. He's doing fine."

Brady slumped back onto his cot. If he had it in him, if Gale had anything in him anymore, he might have felt guilty about the lie. But it wasn't really a lie. John had strode a whole half-foot over the invisible line separating him from a look from a guard and a beating. He was doing real good. So close to where Gale wanted him to be.

Gale meandered out of the hut. Wouldn't do for Brady to wake up again and get any bright ideas.

The guards were shouting at John, gesturing with flat, gloved hands, jabbing their guns in his direction without touching him. Yet. The few others who were up this early didn't know John well enough to intervene. But just in case, Gale slowly started to drag his feet in Bucky's direction. Even outside of the 100th in this camp the Buckies came as a package deal; it would look strange if Gale didn't throw himself into any scene of John's making. Besides, it was down to Gale to perform the encore.

He didn't think it would be hard. Getting them to shoot him after John. He didn't think he'd have to act like he was out of his mind with grief. It would be real.

But the guards, or one of them in particular who'd been frothing to go toe-to-toe with John for a while, was still and silent and staring. He didn't curl his finger around the trigger of his gun. Instead, he flipped it, the thick butt a gleaming stripe in the bleak landscape.

A flash, and he'd smashed it into John's face.

John didn't go down, and Gale picked up his pace.

The guard lifted his gun again and cracked it on the fleshy rounded tip of John's nose. Gale could see the blood. He heard John laugh, high and cracking. Gale started to jog.

The guard lifted a leather boot and planted it into John's ribs, finally getting him grounded. Between the butt of his gun and the stamp and swing of his foot, he rained hell down on John Egan.

Gale was all out sprinting now. This isn't what he wanted. He wanted it quick and clean, not like this. John had been beaten down enough; Gale couldn't tolerate seeing any more of it. Christ, that was the whole point of this whole thing.

"Hey! Hey!" Gale bellowed and it rang out into the quiet morning, and the guard stopped his boot on the upswing. The look he gave Gale was vicious and displeased.

"Stoppen. Mischen Sie sich nicht ein."

Gale ignored him, ignored the other guards starting to come closer, and threw himself over John when he finally reached him.

"He didn't do anything! He was just standing there!"

The guard spat on the ground. Flecks hit Gale's face on the way down.

"Nimm ihn. Und sag ihm, er soll es nicht noch einmal versuchen. Oder das nächste Mal werde ich nicht so sanft sein." He jerked his gun in the vague direction of the huts, and Gale pulled John out of the dirt and the mud and slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Buck," John trilled in his ear. "Fancy seeing you here. You interrupted my date. Kinda friend does that?"

Gale steered him back towards the hut. "Don't think your date was going all that well, Bucky. Come on, let's get you fixed up."

Most of the boys were some kind of awake when Gale dragged them both through the door. Sitting up in their bunks, or standing with coats on over the long johns as they stamped their feet and shuffled around and tried to get a meagre heat into them to start the day. When they saw John, bloodied up and dirty, they all sprang to attention.

"Jesus, what happened?"

"I thought you said you had him?"

"Where's the med kit?"

"How did you let this hap—"

With his spare hand Gale grabbed Brady by one collar, and shut him up. "Help Crank find the kit. Now."

Brady loitered for a moment, stared at him like a stranger, but took up his duty and helped Crank search through their pitiful supplies to help his Major and his co-pilot.

Gale dropped John into a chair, and pulled another in front of him. A tiny cup of water was offered up—Hambone—and Gale took a mental note to give him his own rations later.

A thin little square of a rag was pressed into Gale's hand, and each and every one of the boys clustered around them in an arc of fluffed up hens.

John waved a hand at them, frowning. "Alright, nothing to see here. Just a friendly chat with a goon. Scram why don'tcha. Breakfast will be waitin' for ya any minute."

They obeyed, reluctantly and without urgency.

"I'll get yours for you, Bucky," Brady said on his way out.

"Yeah, you too Buck." Benny pushed him over the threshold.

Silence followed. Gale broke it only with the tinkling of water squeezed back into the cup. Bucky huffed out puffs of breath as Gale dabbed at the scrapes and cut on the side of his face. Gale had to make sure were clean. Infection and fever was as nasty a way to go as a beating.

Bucky watched him the whole time. His eyes had always been dark for being so blue. And sometimes when they stormed up Gale had found them difficult to look at. But he'd always forced himself to weather it, and he forced himself now.

Bucky who knew him better than anyone. Could he read Gale's plan on his face? In the slight shake of his hand? Were his eyes shining the truth of his guilt into Bucky's soul?

"Not going to tell me not to do it again?"

No. Do it better. Do it worse. Get shot through the head good and clean instead of beaten, you complete fool.

"I'm done telling you to do anything," Gale said instead, flat and unkind. They couldn't afford for him to coddle John, now. In the end it would be worth it. It would be worth it. He'd make up for it, in whatever awaited them beyond. "You ain't listened to me a day since you turned up here, and you're not going to listen to me now."

John hummed and cleared his throat. "Finally got sick of dragging me outta my own messes, huh?"

John's eyes were more open than Gale had seen them in a while. Like Gale's answer was worth being present for. And Gale was so desperately tired of the both of them being pushed down and down in this place, was so desperate to find some peace for the two of them together, that he couldn't tell Bucky the truth. The less he had to hold on to, the quicker their ever after could come.

He pushed back the chair with a scrape. "Yeah. Something like that, John."

He stumbled when he heard the plaintive, painful wisp of sound in Bucky's throat, cut off as the hut door slammed open and the boys returned with their chow.

Starving to death was too slow, too stressful on the rest of the boys, or Gale would have tried it months ago.

John steered clear of the fence for a while.

Gale had been careful to put distance between then, to stop being the pillar for John to lean on and the force pulling him back down to earth, all whilst trying not to be obvious about it. Just enough for John to notice and to wonder if it was all in his head. To give him scraps of what they used to be without any kind of their old foundations.

Each night Gale went to sleep with cramps in his stomach. He wanted to curl up next to John, to hold him through the night and be the first thing he saw in the morning. He wanted to see a way out, a light ahead that meant they could keep breathing each others air, but there was none. Instead there were tree stumps and calculus and fake baseball games and Gale's heart broke every time he was faced with what this place had reduced his Bucky to. What this place had forced him to do because there was no. way. out.

But even so, John was giving the fence a far wider berth than normal.

Which left them both miserable and stagnant.

Gale would have to give John another push.

The idea came to him on mail day. John usually made himself scarce as names were being called out and envelopes pushed into greedy hands. He already knew he wasn't getting one. He'd told Gale once, in an awful moment of clarity, that no one at home cared to write him a letter, and he wasn't about to stick around for the reminder.

Gale had been meaning to ask Marge if she'd write John, too, but it was a moot point, now. He'd written her a letter, explaining everything. He didn't want her thinking he was some victim of this place. He wanted her to know it was his choice. That with John getting further and further away from him, giving up on any possibility of their freedom, Gale refused to do any of this without him. He had to hold on to him the only way he knew.

She'd never forgive him, but that was a problem for the living. They were only half that, Gale and John.

So the next time letters were being handed out, Gale accepted his slip from Marge and hustled after John as he slipped out the door.

He didn't even have to call out. Bucky turned to walk backwards, giving Gale a queer look.

"What you doing out here? Marge finally give the pen a rest?"

Gale brandished the perfumed envelope with as big a smile as he could manage. Something shuttered behind John's eyes and he grinned sharp and wolfish back.

"Then get. Read your letter, Buck, and leave me out of it."

"We could read it together," Gale announced, generous and jovial and hoping Bucky couldn't see the strain at the sides of his eyes.

"No fuckin' thank you."

John turned on his heel and Gale had to jog to catch up.

"Come on," he pushed. "A little slice of home for you."

John scoffed and sneered at him nasty. "Like I need the reminder that I've got nothin' waiting for me outside of this goddamn camp. Gotta say, Buck, it's not like you to rub something like that in a guy's face. It's almost cruel." That darker side of John sounded almost pleased, like it was proud of him, and Gale's throat jumped to think John saw more of him than he let on.

Their good sides were bonded souls. Made sense their bad sides were, too.

Gale pretended offence. "Don't get snippy with me just because you got nobody."

John drew his lips in a thin line and looked away. Sure signs Gale's hit had landed. A bombsight couldn't have helped him land it better.

"Nobody."

Gale shrugged. Inside, that impulse to grab John and make him look Gale in the eye, to tell him he had him, they had each other and that was all that mattered, reared up screaming. But Gale beat it down.

"You were the one that decided none of the dames in Texas, and none of the girls in England were good enough. Any one of them would have been happy to wait for you. No one to blame but yourself, Bucky. So quit feeling sorry for yourself."

And John gifted him with a face he reserved for Colonels: a blank veneer with only the slightest ambiguous uptick at the corner of his mouth. The one he put up when he knew spilling what he really felt or thought was only going to lead to something bad.

Good. I can't take this much more John. Seeing you hurt. God, end it. End it for both of us.

"Fuck off, Gale. Read your damn letter. Jerk off to Marge baking pies or gossiping to the neighbours or whatever mundane, domestic, pathetic shit she writes to you about. Cry whilst you do it, even. You seem the type. Just fuck off."

John marched off without a word, and Gale swallowed the yell of his name he wanted to chase him down with.

Let him feel it. Let him feel alone. He won't be, when it's all over. You'll be together, out of here at last.

John didn't return after the letters had been read and then read again. He didn't return to taunt the men during their shifts on the stump puller. He didn't return to choke down shitty rations with them. And he didn't return when night fell and curfew was almost upon them.

Gale felt the fear of the boys. But all he could feel was anticipation. Waiting for the knock at the door, when a goon would break the news that Bucky had gotten into trouble after lockdown and they'd shot him to make an example. Gale watched it play out in his mind: he'd finally let himself feel something honest and let his heartbreak feed his anger and attack the guard, and they'd put a bullet in him too. They'd toss their bodies in the same hole. Gale could lie in the cradle of John's legs, over the expanse of his chest, forever.

The knock never came. The door was booted in, instead.

John was limp between two men, unconscious. Brady and Crank leapt forward to take him, and Ham and Murph grabbed the fellas by their patchy, dirty jackets before they could retreat.

"The fuck did you do to him?" Ham growled and the fella in his grasp balked at his nasty scar and gleaming teeth.

"Nothing! He's fine—just drunk!"

Brady and Crank lowered John onto his bunk, and Gale could smell the bitter smell of alcohol all the way from his own.

The men were British, and the one Murph pressed against the wall had the gall to sneer at John. "Arsehole came in a wiped out our stash playing cards. Don't know how he's not dead. Stuff would burn the stomach lining right off you."

With a jerk of Gale's head, Ham and Murph tossed the Brits out on their ass.

John didn't move. Gale stared at him. Disappointment tried to swallow him up. He thought, he really thought this would be it, but John had found a way to extend their misery yet again. Gale pressed a hand to his forehead. He was clammy and cold. His breaths were irregular, too shallow more than not. His pulse was slow and sluggish.

Not just drunk. Dead drunk.

Crank shook his head. "Trust Bucky to find a way to get smashed in a prisoner of war camp, Jesus."

Brady stood at Gale's shoulder. "Someone will need to watch him. Make sure he doesn't choke."

Hope sparked up in him again.

"I will. Rest of you get to bed."

Protest rose up in the puff of Brady's chest.

"That's an order, Captain."

Gale watched John as the others got ready for bed, and his resentment grew with each staggering breath Bucky tried to take.

He waited until the bunk was full of the sounds of snuffling and snores until he let himself drop next to Bucky's side. His eyes roved over the pronounced curve of John's nose, the wide arch of his cheeks, the square of his jaw. That bony structure thrust into sharper relief from hunger.

But Gale still thought John was beautiful. He was beautiful when he was bloated and uncomfortable with alcohol. He was beautiful when he was dripping with sweat and stank to high heaven in their early PT days. He was beautiful when he was all but barking at their commanding officers and egging Gale to indulge his wilder impulses. And he was beautiful now, probably poisoned from potent, raw booze brewed deep in bleakest Sagan.

Gale swept back curls lank with grease and dirt and sweat.

"What are you dragging this out for, hm?" he murmured it into Bucky's ear. In case one of the boys woke up, or wasn't as asleep as Gale thought he was.

"Aren't you tired? Don't you wanna rest, sweetheart? Because I do."

He plucked up John's hand and held it.

"We made each other a promise, you and I. That one way or another, we'd get out of this thing together. And thing is—" He swallowed past the lump and the cracking in his throat. "Thing is I think you're right. I don't think we're being rescued, and I don't think we're escaping any time soon. God, I don't even know if we're gonna win this war. What kind of Major does that make me? What kind of man to lead the boys? I don't want to. I don't want to. I'm so damn tired, John. I'm so tired of being the one the boys look up to. I'm tired of bearing the weight. I'm tired of seeing you hurting over and over, dying here right in front of me. I'm tired of pretending there's a life waiting for me out of here that isn't with you."

He pressed a kiss to each and every knuckle. "So, you can stop fighting now, alright? You go, and I'll go with you. I'm just waiting for you, gorgeous. Let Brady or Benny or Crank lead the boys. They're much more fit for it. Let's you and I get out of here, get some rest finally."

Gale cast a slow, careful look around. Not that there was much light to see by, but silhouettes could be just and damning, and that wasn't how he wanted either of them to go. There was an honourable, clean execution, and there were Krauts murdering the queers. But no one was looking, and Gale pushed forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's lax mouth. Let just the tip of his tongue dart forward and taste the zing of strong booze that could knock out a man of Bucky's tolerance.

Then he slipped back into his bunk, and watched.

He woke to a wretched coughing.

John. He was jerking and twitching and kicking and—

Choking.

And he still wouldn't wake up.

Gale was out of his bunk and had hands full of John before his sleep-deprived mind could catch up. Bucky's dead weight was nothing to sniff at, even with the weight he'd shed since coming to Stalag Luft III. Gale yanked and pulled, but couldn't get Bucky on his side. His heart hammered in his chest, the only though in his mind running round like a carousel.

Turnoverturnoverturnover. You son of a bitch turn over.

He braced a foot against the board of Bucky's bunk and threw all his wait into trying to get Bucky on his side.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it and the panic and fear overrode everything. Weak, pathetic sounds fell from his mouth that later he wouldn't remember. He couldn't hear anything over the wet gargling from Bucky.

"Come on, Bucky!"

Gale gave one last desperate heave, and hands wrapped around his waist and his shoulders and others grabbed onto John, too. And finally John was hauled over, and the bitter frothy poison tumbled from his mouth onto his bed, the floor, Gale's pants and boots.

And still he didn't wake.

When he was empty, spitting up nothing but tiny white bubbles, Gale left John in the hands of whoever had come to help. Gale hadn't so much as looked up to see who it all was. He simply got up and shoved through the door, curfew be damned.

He got as far as the corner of the hut and bent double and vomited.

He could have let John die. He should have let John die. That was the plan. Then Gale could have gotten himself killed in the morning and that would have been that.

But it hadn't been a thought, in the moment. He'd seen John thrashing and kicking and had nothing in his body or his mind but the need to make it fucking stop.

He was so damn sick of himself. Of his weakness. Of letting John down time and time again.

A hand gently thumped on his back.

"Ay, get it up, Buck. That's it."

Benny. Faithful Benny. Best damn co-pilot in the 100th.

Buck came up gasping. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Benny grabbed onto his shoulders. "He's got it out his system now. He'll be alright. Hell of a head in the morning, but that won't stop us putting that bastard on stump duty for scaring us all half way to hell. Son of a bitch."

Gale shook his head. He couldn't blink. His eyes blurred and stang and he couldn't blink. "I can't…he can't stay here, Benny. It's killing him, I—I have to get him out of here."

Benny's mouth twisted in a pitying line and Gale wanted to throw up again. "S'killing all of us, Buck. Just some slower than others, is all. But us? We can stay one step ahead of that big goodnight with you at our backs, hm?"

Yeah. They could. Because Gale was gonna give that reaper two souls; keep it fed for a while longer and see if he and Bucky can buy their boys some time.

Gently, he pushed Benny's hands off him. "I'm alright. Let's get…let's get to bed."

Benny made Buck go first. The door closed behind them with a tiny thump, and when Gale took his place on his bunk, he saw John was still on his side, but with one knee curled up and a hand placed under his head.

Gale didn't sleep until the sky outside turned grey.

Like storming seas, things crashed and ebbed at the same moment.

After that day, the afternoon really when Bucky had finally awoken with no apparent memory of the night before, the distance between them stretched as far as it could go without snapping. John's low profile, like a belly-crawling dog been kicked around too much, didn't last long. It wasn't in his nature to be so remorseful. John's itching and his wildness and his restlessness, that far off and empty look in his eyes that only ever really sharpened into the present when a Kraut with a gun got close enough, ramped up. And up. And up.

But never seemed to go nowhere.

Gale wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to throw himself at John's feet and beg him to get it over with. He wanted to drag him and drop him at a goon's boots himself and kneel there until it was his turn to eat a bullet.

His prayers to Bucky sick with drink had gone unanswered, and he was afraid he was going to have to watch John waste away here and die slowly, agonisingly far from the man he was at his core.

Gale had failed him so badly, unable to let him go. Two chances they'd had so far, but Gale was so set on a good quick death for his Bucky, he'd had to step in at the last minute, and keep Bucky stuck here with him. Trapped and rotting.

Good thing they weren't getting out of here alive. Bucky would never forgive him for keeping him going for so long. Gale was never going to forgive himself.

He wasn't an overly religious man, and less so now than ever, but he wondered if that was a penance he'd carry with him in death. But it would be okay, so long as he could look at Bucky whilst he bore it. Youthful and vibrant and more alive than he was right now floating around the earthly realm.

"Come on. Skins versus Bones. What do you say? Skins can be the, uh-the away team. Actually, no. No, we’re all away. Pfft. We’re both the away teams!"

Skin and bones. Away, away. Hurry up and climb down into the dirt, Johnny. It's waiting for you and so am I.

He shoved Bucky down, and there John laid back looking more peaceful in the mud than he did curled up in his pitiful bunk. Like it was a suite at the Ritz. He looked up at Gale, like a lover waiting for him to descend down to his level and join him.

King Cleven.

King and God in heaven: that's how John used to look at him. Now he looked at him like a sinner awaiting judgement, desperate to begin their eternity.

Me too, baby. Just a bit longer.

And because he knew John better than he knew himself, Gale knew he couldn't accept a hand up right now. Wouldn't let himself accept the kindness and fraternity of his brothers in the 100th. Wouldn't let himself accept Gale's touch without snapping at his hand.

So Gale offered it. Gave John the perfect opportunity to bite and hate himself a little more in the hopes that this would be it: this would John's final thread and all of this could end.

"Come on. Get up, you loony. Come on, get up. Get up, you loony."

John had always danced so perfectly to Gale's music, and unlike Gale he didn't let his other half down now. A kick and a thrash and a smack and a tumble and John sent Gale sprawling down into the dirt with him.

Gale was so proud of him. It hurt that he couldn't tell him before the end, lest he accidentally stay John's execution at the last moment. Then his rib cracked under John's boot, and John's nose bloodied under Gale's fist, and Gale finally felt it.

Felt something move. Shift. Break. And start to drift away. He felt his eyes sting with the joy and relief of it.

Then clipped, abrupt German erupted over the camp tannoys, and everything Gale had been holding to was upended in the worst way.

"They landed, didn’t they? We're in Western Europe. It finally happened."

That thing that had felt more than improbable but impossible: liberation and freedom. It was marching on them . For them. And Gale wanted to rage and weep.

They were so close. So close to it being over. So close to being together in the dark and the quiet even if they never made it back to America. And now the Allies had gone and ruined it, yanked it all away by starting a slow campaign into enemy territory that threatened to undo all the painstaking, heartbreaking, torturous work he'd done so far so push John over the edge he loved to flirt with so much. Both of them were hanging on by their fingertips and Gale wanted so badly to just let go and freefall. He'd look at John the whole way down, untilt he met the black and the void.

But then John woke up.

He'd found that last morsel of his will to keep going and used it to gain a foothold, to haul himself back up over the edge, even if it was by an inch. And that son of a bitch tried to drag Gale up with him.

That night in the hut, in as private a moment as they could get by their bunks when mostly everyone else was following a high-spirited card game, John found him. Clear-eyed John extended a gentle hand to brush against Gale's cracked rib and whispered,

"I'm sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry. I hurt you, I—"

Gale flinched and bared his teeth. His eyes shone with frustration and sorrow. How could John do this now? How could he approach with with softness and regret and that awful, sickening goddamn clarity when Gale had been scooping out the best parts of himself just to secure their future together, their rest?

And John saw it, and misread it. "Hey, come on. Come on."

He pulled Buck outside the hut. It wasn't lights out, yet, so the goons didn't usually mind a few men loitering at the door of their huts so long as they went no further.

In the dark, in their privacy against the thin wood that made their shelter, Bucky stood up taller than Gale had seen since England and said, "Hit me. Again. I deserve it."

Oh, this old chestnut.

"Fuck you, Bucky."

John grinned to hear it. And for once it was entirely without edge. It reached his eyes and carved well-worn dimples back into his cheeks. Gale couldn't do this. He couldn't have John back in all his glory for a few fleeting moments on the high of the news of the Allied invasion, only to lose him and be back at square one when he realised how goddamn long that would take. They'd still be stuck here for months. And Gale didn't think he had that left in him when John inevitably drifted away again.

They were barely visible in the dark and John took the cover to lean in close. "Not-so Saint Cleven. I missed ya."

Gale shook. He didn't know if it was even anger anymore.

John's hands came to rest on his hips. He ducked his head like he used to do after one of Gale's more harrowing flights.

"You were right, and I was wrong, Buck. We are getting out of here. M'sorry you were left keeping that belief burning on your own. But for what's it's worth and I know I'm not worth much but I'm here now."

For now—

"—and I'm not going anywhere. We're getting out of here you and me. Alive. Like we promised."

Gale was trembling. Head to toe he trembled and it shook some of the water loose around his eyes. It shook sounds from his throat and gasps from his lungs, and John whisked him even further into the dark around the corner of the hut and Gale gripped John's greatcoat so tight he heard a stitch or two pop.

"Fuck you," he hissed wetly. "Fuck you, fuck you, John. I could have—why didn't you come back earlier? Why didn't…I could have—"

He'd thought John was gone. Dead already, but his body didn't know it yet. And Gale was weary from carrying both their corpses. But John had lied to him this whole time. Had been alive and dormant and that Gale could have killed him, could have put them to sleep in the dirt when something in John still wanted to live.

John gathered him close, or tried to, but Gale thrashed back and only let John get close enough to press their foreheads together, and only then because he felt his skin stretch and bruise with how hard John pushed against him.

"Woah, woah, Buck. It's alright. It's alright. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"

"I could have killed you, John." His voice shook and his throat and nose clogged, and to Gale's horror and humiliation, the tears only gained a pace and he found himself sobbing like a frightened child into John's chest. "You could have died. I could have killed you," he heaved into the coarse wool of John's coat.

"I know, I've been an asshole."

Gale clenched his fist and aimed for John's kidney and got him good before John trapped his hand. But he had another and sucker punched John's stomach and reigned hell down on his back, but John still wouldn't let him go and Gale still couldn't stop sobbing, furious and shattered in equal measure.

"Shut up. Shut up. You left me here. You left me and I couldn't fucking take it. You and me: we were supposed to be in this together and you left. I wanted us dead John. I wanted us dead. I thought you were dead and I wasn't about to let you leave me behind I—"

John squeezed him so tight he crushed all the air out of Gale's lungs. His breaths came shallow when he could drag them in between his cries which he finally let himself bury into the crook of John's shoulder. John didn't let him up for air. Didn't let him put so much as a half inch between them. Didn't let them separate.

"I'm not dead. I'm not dead," John repeated it in his ear. "And you're not dead, either. We're alive, Buck. We're alive and we're getting out of here."

Gale clutched the back of John's neck until he felt the skin get stuck under his fingernails and John hissed and jerked under him but still didn't let go.

"I don't want to be," he said thickly. "I'm so tired, John. Can't we just—I just want to lay down and die, already. I've been waiting and I can't..."

John scruffed him and shook until his teeth rattled. "Not a fuckin' choice, Major."

Gale moaned and felt thick trickles of snot drop from his nose. "It's not fair—"

"I don't give a shit. You didn't want me to leave you behind? Well you don't get to abandon me, now. You wanna die so bad? You wanna give in? I'll shoot you my damn self, then put one in my head right after. You wanna make me do that? I don't wanna die here, Buck. Too many people have tried to bury me between here and Germany and if I die here, they win. You gonna make me do it? 'Cause I will. You and me. Here or home. What's it gonna be?"

Gale had cried himself beyond wails or sobs and curses. He hiccupped his sorrow in pathetic bursts all over John.

"I hate you," he vowed into sodden, filthy wool. "I can't. I hate you."

John kissed his crown and Gale jerked his head enough to butt against John's teeth. He hoped they left a mark. "Yeah. I hate me, too. But that's not an answer."

John shoved Gale back, and he felt the cold on the smeared mess on his face. John stared him down unflinching. "Where we dyin', Buck? Here? Or back where we're supposed to be? Behind a yoke or in our beds like we fuckin' deserve?"

Gale used the sleeve of his coat to wipe away the slime and sniffed down a throatful of mucus and snot and other pathetic wetness that hadn't made it out. A glimmer of Major Cleven was able to peek back out. Gale rolled back his shoulders and set his jaw that sharp and stubborn way that made the new recruits shift in place like errant children.

And he stared right back at Bucky. His Bucky. Finally back from being AWOL.

"Don't you leave me here again. Do you hear me? Because if you do, if you go back to that, I won't watch it. I'll tell them we're spies. I'll goddamn tell them we're queer if I have to, but I'll make sure we both bite it here, Bucky. I can't do it without you anymore, so don't you fuckin' make me."

John grabbed a fistful of his hair and kissed him bruising and biting and hard. Gale's skin was still sticky. His lips cut against his teeth and Gale made sure to cut John up to match.

When they pulled back, the inside of John's lip was tinged with red. A shining streak of one of Gale's bodily fluids was infused to the strands of John's mustache. "Deal."

It had taken John getting the closest he'd ever gotten to being killed, for them to finally take the plunge.

The P-51s had fired on them, their own countrymen and allies. Only Alex Jefferson's warning had kept their losses low. But John had seen red, like he used to do at a shitty call from a higher up, or when a rookie had made a mistake that could have cost a fort and ten good men. He was all teeth and snarling froth and the Germans were unholstering their pistols, rifles already aimed and pinned on John's chest. Right at the heart.

It took four of them to pull him back.

"Look at me. Look at me! I'm in. We go tonight. Just calm down before they put a bullet in your head."

John sucked in his lips and didn't take his eyes from Gale even as he pushed off his hands. A self-enforced silence before he did something he couldn't undo.

Just a little longer, Gale pleaded with him silently. Just keep it together a little longer, darlin'.

In the night, passing through the sorry carcass of some village or old work buildings or something, George and Billy ran unseen between two buildings and cleared the wall between their column of POWs and the dark protection of the woods.

"Go on," Bucky said before Gale could. "I'll be right behind you."

You goddamn better be, he wanted to say, threaten, and make Bucky promise. But they didn't have time, and the longer he lingered, the more danger he was putting Bucky in.

So with a final look, he ran.

He couldn't hear anything, his heart hammered so loud. Was Bucky behind him? Was that footsteps he could hear?

The wall was so close, now. A few more feet and Gale could hold his arm out and touch it.

"Hey, no! Stop! Stop!"

Gale's feet, his whole damn body, lurched to a stop. Like Bucky had commanded him. He whirled around and there he was, wrestling with a German guard, drawing more and more attention, trying to get the Kraut's own gun off him.

Men had been killed for much, much less. They'd seen it.

"Go, Buck! Get out of here!"

It was the second time John lied to him.

Gale picked up his feet again, but the wall got further away. John was no slight man, even after their time in the Stalag and marching through the dead of night in the cold European winter. But the guards were better fed, better rested, and armed to boot.

And John was losing.

As the guard made to tip John over on his back and turned his gun on him, Gale barreled into him, knocking him clean off John and socking him in his sorry mouth. Hands grasped at him but they were quickly torn away, and he heard John grunting. It wasn't until his fists were bloody from breaking up the goon's teeth that Gale was finally hauled off him and thrown down into the cold dirt.

John was already there waiting for him.

Panting they drew themselves up to their knees. The Germans were screaming at them, and John looked at him with eyes that burned with betrayal.

"Why didn't you go? Buck why didn't you go?"

"You're a son of a bitch, John Egan. You and me, you said. You promised. I didn't take you for no liar, and that's twice."

John's eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment, but when he opened them they were full of the steely resolved he'd carried for weeks now.

They started this together, they'd end this together. However that came.

They sat high on their knees, eyes and chins up.

"What are you doing?!" The Colonel stared at them kneeling at the mercy of the Germans. "General! Release these men this instant!"

It got the attention of their boys from the 100th. Benny. Brady. Crank. Murph. Glenn. Even Alex and Macon and Daniels. They all raised their voices over the barking and the yelling. They pushed against the line of guards holding them back. They snarled and they screamed.

The Colonel called over it all. "You'll have a damn riot on your hands if you kill these men!"

But Gale and John, they knew what was coming. They'd been caught trying to escape. They'd fought with the guards.

They couldn't be allowed to live if their captors wanted to keep control of the line as they marched deeper into enemy territory.

The Geneva Convention didn't mean shit out here.

John reached out and took Gale's hand. Entwined their fingers and held on. Unburdened. Unashamed. Free.

Gale ran his his thumb over the callouses of John's skin. And decided he didn't want his last sight to be the arrogant sneer of an SS lackey.

He looked at John. He was already looking back.

"Here?" Gale asked him.

John shrugged and smiled that closed-lipped smile he reserved for Buck. For when he was being true. "So long as we're together."

Despite all the clamour, they heard the click of several guns being readied, and then the barrells stared them down.

Gale and John stared at each other.

The night rang out with the scream of what remained of the 100th of Stalag Luft III.

[eashmo]

-Scream Queen - 18+

Warnings: Smut, small knife play, Teratophilia i guess, friends to lovers.

A/N: pretend that scream came out in 1980 and not in the 90s. Also happy halloween ya filthy animals.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1984

Tonight was Halloween,which happens to be one of my most favorite holidays. but instead of getting dressed up and going out to get shit faced drunk with Steve and Nancy at Tina's party, I was chilling at home, all by myself, my little brother was with Dustin and the rest of the boys and my best friend was doing business at the halloween parties that are happening around town. so, here I was. watching the horror classics and my most favorite movie, which was Scream. There was something about ghostface that made me tingle. i was in the kitchen getting some snacks together when there was a thump on the top floor. 

"the hell was that?" 

My house phone began to ring. 

"hello?"

"y/n!” Mrs. Wheeler.

"Oh hey, Mrs Wheeler, how are you?"

"I'm doing great darling, I was calling because Y/B/N just asked if he could stay over, I told him it was alright but I wanted to make sure it was alright with your parents."

"Well, they are out of town, but I don't mind that he stays over. He loves your house more than ours, especially if it involves D&D." we both chuckled at that and said our goodbyes. 

There was a loud crash which sounded like it came from my room.

“It better not be carver and his fucking goons” I walked up the stairs, i'm really not in the mood to deal with their shit. Last year they decided to toilet paper my entire front yard. They like to torment us misfits of this town. Thinking they are better than everyone because they have money and such. 

when I came into my room and the first thing I saw made my heart drop. My window was wide open, and my bedside lamp was knocked over. I don't know if I was getting goosebumps from the cold autumn chill flowing through my small room, or I was making myself paranoid to actually think Jason is going a little overboard. my  heart was pounding hard, leaning out of my window i saw no sign of jason and his friends only kids that were going door to door, my brother and his friends cleaned out our stash of candy before other kids in the neighborhood could get to it so i didn't bother leaving the front porch light on to indicate that the house had candy. 

I huffed and slammed the window shut. I was about to turn around until a leather gloved hand clasped over my mouth, I let out a muffled scream.

“Curiosity killed the cat, darlin." A dark, deep voice disguised with a voice changer whispered into my ear, sending chills up and down my spine. I felt a long piece of metal make contact with my throat. It was most definitely a knife. I started to struggle against the mysterious person's hold. His hand slipped off my mouth.

“Jason i swear to god you are crossing the line this year!”

"Shut up, or I'll slit your pretty little throat, and I'm not that asshole." he said, then began to chuckle deeply when he realized I relaxed against his hold when he told me he wasn't jason. But I soon went stiff again when the man began to pull me backward from the window. He quickly spins me around. his attire. was dirty, beat up white Reeboks, black ripped jeans, a leather jacket paired with the infamous white ghost face mask. The mysterious man smelled of weed and cigarettes  which was an all to familiar smell to me. so i played along.

"So what do you want?" I snapped. 

 “You've always been so feisty” he let out a low chuckle. He used the tip of the knife to trace my collar bone gently. “I just wanna play with you before I kill you."

“Is that so, Mr. Ghostface?” I smirked. He pressed the knife harder into my skin, causing a small cut to appear, and a single stream of blood began to flow. This caused me to moan softly. 

"Hm you're a little horror slut aren't you" he lifted my chin with the knife, i wished i could see his face that was hidden under the mask.

"My my, you are a pretty looking thing. Wearing nothing but panties and a thin tank top” he commented as his free hand found my throat. 

“Doesn't sound like you are complaining” I breathed. 

"You're right, princess. I might consider letting you live for you to be my personal plaything. How's that sound?" the man said with a playful tone. the pet name fully confirmed my suspicion on who it was. The only person I know that calls me princess was Eddie, who I've had a crush on since elementary school. And thanks to Steve babbling his mouth one day at school. I finally knew he returned that same affection.   

"Deal," I smirked. 

 “Hm, that's what i thought princess lets see how much of a horror slut you really are then, shall we? Shirt off and get on your knees." he demanded, slowly taking off my shirt letting my tits bounce free as I lowered myself onto my bedroom floor. 

"I can't wait to wreck this pretty face of yours,' he groans.

“take my cock out. Now". undoing the jean button and zipper quickly, I swiftly pulled him out. I licked my lips to the site of his cock. Eddie cock was standard. But it was deliciously thick and veiny, not waiting for his approval. I placed a long lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, giving it a good suck causing him to immediately buck his hips which pushed him further down my throat. "s-shit" he growled, this time his voice sounding a bit breathy. "just like that" his breath hitch when I went faster, swallowing him completely causing tears in my eyes. 

"you're sucking me so fucking good." he said as he placed a hand on the top of my head he started to face fucking me, wet noises and gagging began to echo in the room.

"shit, fuck y/n" he groaned and threw his head back. My thighs began to clench together when I finally heard my name which made me hum a moan causing him to almost cum down my throat. He grabbed a handful of my hair and abruptly pulled your mouth off of him with a wet pop. 

"I want to cum in that pussy," he said growling.

"Then do it, Munson."

“H-How did you know it was me?” His voice sounded like he was pouting behind the mask. 

“You called me princess, and I know your smell” I giggled. He sighed as he gently caressed my face with his leather hand, and the other removed the voice changer.

 “I don't wanna stop Eddie” I looked up at the black holes of the ghost face mask. “Strip for me, but leave the mask on and also put your rings back on” I said as I grabbed his leather clad hand, bringing it to my mouth and using my teeth to take the glove off him. He groaned deeply at the sight. He quickly put them back on and stripped. I stood up from the ground, and my knees were screaming at me from giving him a blow job on the wooden floor. 

“Mr.ghostface? Arent you going to fuck me” i batted my eyes.    

"Indeed princess, i'm going to have you dying over this cock" his now ringed hand went to my neck squeezing it lightly as he backed me into my bed. I fell back with a soft thud as he stood before me. 

"Let's get these off, shall we?" Eddie immediately cut off my panties with the knife. I was unbelievably wet. 

"So wet for me babygirl" his fingers gently ran down up and down my slick slit, making me jump slightly at contact.

"Such a sinful sight," he was prepared  to completely ruin me. Thank fucking god i thought, he suddenly pushed himself into me fully.  “E-Eddie” I whined. The feeling of him stretching my tight cunt made me gasp at finally feeling full. The feeling I didn't know I was missing from him, I was already addicted to him but now I'm also addicted to his cock.

"Fuck y/n, i should have done this sooner, you're so fucking tight." he groaned lowly as he tightly grasped my hips and his thrusts got faster.

“Yes you should have” my eyes immediately rolled to the back of my head as his cock pounded into me.

"f-fuck. Your cock feels so fucking good, Eds" i began to moan loudly, his head back falls and he lets moan out.

"You take my cock so well princess, it was made for you, y-yes…..take it just like that." he leaned over me, the mask was cool against my warm cheek as he pounded me deeper into the mattress. 

"E-Eddie Im abo….." I breathed heavily, gripping the sheets, my knuckles turning white.   

"Cum for me babygirl '' with that i saw stars and it felt like my body was on fire. I clamped down so hard on his cock he let out a loud moan in my ear. He contined to fuck me through my orgasim "damn princess, squeezing this cock so fucking hard." he breathed.

"Eddie!" I continued to moan as I felt another orgasim on its way.

"You're mine!" he growled.  I ripped off the mask from his face, I wanted to stare into those beautiful big brown eyes as he fucked me. His long hair is now curtaining our faces. 

“This pussy is yours, I'm yours, always have been.” with my words he began to moan as he filled every inch within my pussy with his seed.

My second orgasm hit me harder than the first. It felt like I was ejected out of this universe.he was right i died and gone to heaven. Eddie collapsed on top of me. Our sweaty bodies are melting into one.  

"holy fucking shit that was amazing" we both said at the same time which caused us to burst into laughter. 

“So y/n? I've been wanting to ask you this since I first met you in elementary…… wanna be my girlfriend”

Giggles “you are truly an oblivious idiot Munson, it's about time you asked me”

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes it is Mr.Ghostface.... also, does that mean i get to live?" i gave him the puppy dog eyes.

"Maybe, if you are a good girl," he says as he slips out of me.

Masterlist

2023

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Trick or Treat! Maya's looking to make some new friends today! you might not have met her before, but that's okay! she's only been here a few months! let's have fun!

*UIFY answers*

Leon heard a knock at the door of the treehouse. The Yokai had Halloween, with similar traditions like the dressing up and the spookiness and ghosts with ghouls and pumpkin carving. They even had trick-or-treat! And Mikey was reeeally excited about that; he'd been working all day on some special new recipe of homemade candies.

"Would you get the door?" Mikey called from the kitchen. "I'm working on the second batch!"

"Sure," Leon yelled back, as he took the tray of tiny square sugar candies.

He put his back to the wall and peeked through the side window. He could just see the top of what looked like a unicorn horn. It was a kid, not some goon or thug from the slums. Phew. Could never be too careful! Leon opened the door and was met with a very sparkly little girl dressed as a unicorn princess.

"Tricker Tree!" she squealed with delight, holding out her sack.

It took Leon a moment for his brain to reboot. For one thing, she was practically glowing with the amount of glitter she wore. For another, she was absolutely freaking adorable in her unicorn costume. Leon secretly LOVED unicorns. For a third, the red stripes on her face were eerily familiar...

Leon blinked and was back in the present. He smiled sheepishly and knelt down.

"Here ya go," he said, handing her the tray. "Take as many as you want!"

She squealed again and took about a handful of the multicoloured delights. Leon was tempted to just give her the whole tray, it wasn't like they'd get more visitors tonight. They lived out beyond the boondocks of the Hidden City... But whatever she didn't take, they would need.

"Happy Halloween!" she waved, as she ran off once she had her prizes.

"Happy Halloween!" Leon called out after her. "I like your costume!"

[indieyuugure]

Hello! I just discovered your work and I'm loving it! I binged the Mutation Situation this afternoon and it was ✨fabulous!✨

But I'm wondering what part of season 2 this is? It's obviously after Donnie made the retromutagen, but how close are you cutting it to the Krang's invasion of earth?

I’m happy you’re liking it!

The Mutation Situation comic takes place between episode 20 and 21. Leo mentions “last week’s debacle” aka when they stole Shredder’s helmet in hopes to trade it for Karai which is an allusion to episode 20, “The Legend of the Kuro Kabuto.” So, they are about 6 episodes away from the Kraang invasion.

I’ve figured that the invasion probably takes place in early to mid December(because 3-ish months later is March, early spring) so currently it’s early October, maybe very late September, which is hinted at when one of the Purple Dragon goons (Fong, I believe) states that “Halloween isn’t for another month, kids.”

Good questions! :]

[giggly-squiggily]

Bite Me (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Happy Halloween my Ghosts, Ghouls and Zombie goons! I am here bringing you some Sousoku this spooky day! :D I wrote this for a good friend of mine (you know who you are) and wanted to share it today! I hope you like it!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @dirtpie39 @duckymcdoorknob @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @rachi-roo @intheticklecloset (Tagging you cause Chuuya! >:3)

Summary: Chuuya's vampire costume is perfect; but what's the point of Halloween if you don't embrace the character fully?

It was perfect.

Chuuya smirked at his reflection, shifting between poses as he took in his new look. Halloween was just around the corner- as was a massive halloween party being held at the weretiger’s apartment. Whether he even agreed to it or not was unclear, but having it outside of the agency meant Chuuya and Akutagawa could attend without stirring the pot.

That didn’t mean Chuuya wasn’t gonna go all out dressing up though.

His tailored suit fit perfectly, the velvety cape draped over his shoulders hitting his lower calves and making him a man of shadow. For makeup, he didn’t do too much- some highlighter on his cheeks and eyeliner that made the blue of his eyes extra intense. All together- he looked amazing.

He grinned, flashing his vampire teeth. They popped out of his mouth, falling into the sink.

Well…mostly amazing.

“Damn dollar store teeth!” Chuuya grumbled as he picked up his lost prop, washing them off with a grimace. He couldn’t find any of the good costume teeth- and the custom ones he ordered in the mail weren’t going to be here until the day before the party. These would just have to do.

“Boys and girls of every age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange?” Dazai’s happy chirp from the living room brought him out of thought. He was working on little pom pom bats for the apartment, the coffee table littered with crafting supplies as The Nightmare Before Christmas played on the TV. “Come with us and you will see, this our town of halloween~”

….Chuuya peeked at himself in the mirror, then back at the room Dazai was in. Then he smiled, a devious grin on his lips. Slowly, he began creeping towards his boyfriend.

~~~

“This is halloween, this is-OUCH!.” Dazai yelped, giving up on singing along as he waved his burnt finger. “How does Chibi do this every year? He probably doesn’t have fingerprints.” Blowing on his finger, he failed to notice the shadow looming behind him. “We can steal so many reese's cups-”

A loud shriek filled the room, a half-finished pom pom bat flying out of his hands as Chuuya’s lips pressed into his neck. “Chibi! What are you-AHEHEHEHE!”

“I’m hungry,” Chuuya growled against his skin, pressing kisses and gentle nibbles against it while Dazai tried squeezing him out, laughing hysterically. “Give me your blood!”

“Aheahhaha! Ahehahahahahhaa! Chuuhuhuhuhuhuhuuya plehahahahhahhase!” The brunette tried to gently push away the other, flailing into the couch with a wobbly smile. “Dohohohon’t, it tihihihihiickles!”

“Tickles huh? Surely you don’t mean this?” Chuuya stuck his hands out without warning, scribbing into Dazai’s ribs as he carried on gently biting him. The taller of the two arched with a loud squeal, falling on his side and bringing Chuuya with him. “Maybe I’ll have ribs for dinner tonight.”

“Bahahhahahharbaquueuueeu? Soohohohohunds good, leheheheht’s hit up thhahhahaht one plahhahahhce!”

“Nah, I want home cooking. I want some nice fatty ribs.” Chuuya dug into Dazai’s middle set with reckless abandon, earning a fresh squeal. “You got some good ones here.”

“Whohohohoho are yoohohohohu cahhahhhahalling fhahahhahaht? Iihihihihim gohohohoohna-AHHH!”

“Gonna what?” Chuuya teased, going for his armpits, making Dazai flop like a fish. “Whatcha gonna do?”

The detective wheezed, too ticklish to even respond. Only when his cheeks were cherry pink and his face hurt did the devious attack end. “Aheheheh…hehhehehehe..yoohohohu’re a teehheheherror!”

“That’s what vampires DO, you dork.” Chuuya flicked him gently before reaching over, grabbing one of the many pom pom bats. “Hey- these aren’t so bad! It’s a tad messy, but no one’s gonna know.”

Dazai was quiet, and for a moment Chuuya wondered if he said something wrong. When he looked back, the brunette was looking at him so fondly, an easy smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing- it’s just…” Dazai reached up, playing with the loose red locks that fell over Chuuya’s shoulder, twirling them within his fingers. “You look really good right now.”

“Must be my ‘vampiric allure’.” Chuuya snorted, even as his face flushed some, heart racing. He put down the bat and turned to Dazai fully, letting him take it all in. “Looks like I’ve got you under my spell.”

“I am your willing servant.” Dazai grinned, pulling him down and kissing him. It went from sweet and soft to hot and fierce quickly, the brunette pushing off Chuuya’s cape as the redhead worked the buttons of Dazai’s vest. “What about the bats?”

“Screw ‘em. We can finish them later.” Chuuya pushed him fully into the couch, looming over him with a cheeky grin. “Better yet- send them Akutagawa’s way; he and the weretiger can figure it out.”

“I like the way you think.” Dazai snorted, letting himself be kissed again and again.

Thanks for reading!

[2aceofspades]

silliness aside, I hope u had a lovely and fun day as well Ace!!!

more work games and attack of the brain weasels have been making me a bit more tired lately, but seeing you pop up on my dash is always a treat! no trick! ;)

nothing but nice things and good days for my favorite goon, and anyone or anything that says differently will have to answer to me~

~-- --- .-. ... . / .- -. --- -.

It was a very happy halloween, my dear morse anon

No tricks indeed...

[edogawa-division]

Happy Halloween from Wicked Requiem

(+ A.D.A, A.R.K, & A.M.U!)

“Happy Halloween, everybody!”

“Kaoru…what on earth are you wearing?”

“A devil costume like we all agreed to this year, duh.” 

“I think Yuriko-san means why are you dressed like that Kaoru.” 

“Like what?”

“A whore.” 

“Excuse me Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no one can say anything about it.”

“Did you…did you just quote Mean Girls?”

“My money is Kaoru dressing like that because she wants her boyfriends to goon after her.”  

“I have no idea what that means Kanra.”

“I do and how the fuck do you know that you little brat.”

“Am I wrong? You want Lyall-san and Joey-san to rip that off you and-”

“KANRA! SHUT UP YOU DAMN-” 

“Hahaha! Can’t catch me! You gooner!”

“Get back here!”

“You two! For fuck’s sake! Quit fighting! Hm? You’re still here? Then take this. I have to go stop those two from killing each other.”  

You received a treat!

Candy Pitchforks. Hard candies made into the shape of the devil’s pitchfork. They come in various flavors such as grape, blueberry, and cherry. Be careful they’re quite sharp. A stab from the devil if you will. 

Meanwhile…

“Oh A.M.U you look so adorable! Let me just give you a hug!”

“Nee-san A.M.U asks that you let her go. A.M.U is ready to go meet up with Sei-chan.” 

“Just a bit longer A.M.U this is your first Halloween! Yours and Seizou’s! Where’s A.R.K? He’s supposed to be done getting ready by now?” 

“A.D.A. you’re fucking lucky that I love you enough that I’m not fucking making you pay for making me dress like this. I already had a damn costume picked out.” 

“A.R.K your outfit was too scary for the kids! Besides KAITO is fitting for you don’t you think?” 

“Look I fucking get it Kaoru based my appearance off the damn Vocaloid but that doesn’t mean I wanna fucking dress like the bastard.”

“I don’t care A.R.K you’re dressing as the Vocaloid.. Also, a reminder you’re taking A.M.U and Seizou out trick or treating tonight.” 

“When did I sign up for that shit? My plan was to fucking get drunk off my ass and find some random bitch to ACK-” 

“A.R.K Tartarus Aruto Shinozaki, you listen to me, and you listen to me well. You will take our younger sister and brother-in-law trick-or-treating tonight. I swear if they come back home with a hair out of place, I will dismantle you in such a way that not even Kaoru will be able to put you together. Am I clear?” 

“C-crystal. Holy fuck you scare me sometimes. How Mal handles you I don’t have a fucking clue.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Never fucking mind you damn freak. I still want to fucking punch him for corrupting you.” 

“Do not punch my husband A.R.K.”

“Nee-san, Nii-san someone is here…” 

“Oh! So sorry, here you go dear! Happy Halloween, and be safe out there! Now you two give them something to.”

You received a treat!

Candy Ring. A ring pop that looks like an engagement ring, it’s very beautiful and very sweet in flavor. However, this is one bride you do not want to be marrying. A certain husband will tear you apart if you dare try.

“Hello. A.M.U was told to give this to you. So here.”

You received a treat!

Hell Lollipops. Simple red lollipops. However, don't let their appearance fool you. They pack quite the punch with how bitter they are that even Hell doesn’t want them.

“Ugh here. Happy fucking Halloween you bastards. Enjoy or…not.”

You received a trick!

A gas bomb?! It exploded right in your face! Leaving you gasping for air and clawing at your throat as your eyes slowly close. A certain spider android standing over you.

“A.R.K!!!”

“It’s not gonna fucking kill them!”

AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL ART BY @minato-division03 / @akihabara-division03 !!!

[themandylion]

2022 Fic Round-Up

Happy New Year! In 2022, I wrote 29 new stories and 85,622 words*. Here’s all the stuff I wrote in 2022!

2019 Fic Round-Up | 2020 Fic Round-Up | 2021 Fic Round-Up

Teen Morphology - 16k, JayTim. Gotham Academy's newest student is smart, funny, hot—and also constantly lying through his teeth about who he is and where he comes from.

Renegades - 11k, JayTim. Sometimes, all it really takes to make the world a brighter place is a good handle on your anger management. A softer version of Tim's search for Bruce in Red Robin.

Deep Destinies - 864, JayTim. Two mers lying in the seagrass, talking about destiny.

Vigilante Life Cycle - 2k, gen. When Jason digs himself out of his grave, there's someone there to help him. Again. (Part 2 of Vigilante Life Cycle.)

There Are Many Advantages - 944, JayTim. A marine biologist consults with a terrestrial biologist. (Part 2 of MerMemes.)

Grey Ghosts - 2k, gen. "We guard those that guard our cities and the people in them. We find them when they die and prepare them to live again, as they so often do." (Part 1 of Vigilante Life Cycle.)

Sharks Are So Smooth - 696, JayTim. T’m is dispensing hot takes on sharks as learned from the internet. (Part 1 of MerMemes.)

Shifting Compromise - 3k, JayTim. Red Hood and Red Robin are trapped in a tricky situation with little to no hope of rescue on the horizon. Luckily, Red Robin has a hidden talent. Jason just wishes he didn't have to be so frickin' good at it. (Part 1 of Fuzzy Business.)

Tiim Travel - 3k, JayTim, Jason&Tim. Red Hood is in a safehouse only Red Robin is supposed to know about. Hard to believe the most logical explanation is time travel.

Unsafe Hobbies - 5k, JayTim. Tim discovers something in his old photos that sheds new light on a case from Jason's time as Robin.

Contraband Catch-All - 4k, JayTim. Officially, no one is supposed to work weekends. Unofficially, sometimes Storage has other ideas. (Part 4 of Earth and Alpf'ch'l.)

The Icing on the— - 1k, JayTim. It would seem that Tim took the Batmobile out for a bit of fun and failed to clean it before turning in for the night.

Shake Apart - 8k, JayTim. Robin keeps insisting on putting himself between Tim and danger. (Part 3 of Vigilante Life Cycle.)

Pull Together - 4k, gen. Jason does everything Robin needs to do—small acts of kindness mixed with great feats of heroism—as he slowly feels out this new role he's taken on. (Part 4 of Vigilante Life Cycle.)

In Danger of Overheating - 3k, DickTim. Dick is not sulking after being confronted with certain truths, and he is definitely handling the unexpected scantily clad catboy in his apartment in an adult manner. Really.

Deer - 238, original work. The language you're raised with heavily influences the way you perceive the world.

In Tandem, Now - 6k, gen. Getting Tim back proves infinitely harder than spiriting him out of the city was. (Part 5 of Vigilante Life Cycle.)

Fic or Treat - 100-word drabbles done for Halloween: - Lingering (Tim&Cass, and a ghost) - Unreasonable Request (200 words, part 6 of Fuzzy Business) - Haul (JayTim) - Rouge (Red Hood and a goon) - Shared (TimBer) - Tired (JayDami) - Moon (Part 2 of Fuzzy Business) - Sweater (Part 8 of Tales from the House of Mau) - Tradition (Follow up to Shine a Light) - Prudence (Follow up to Three Birds in Flight) - Turning (DickTim)

This Is Not a Hallmark Christmas Movie - 9k, JayTim. Jason makes a project out of DI’s CEO after Tim’s girlfriend dumps him for a Christmas-tree farmer. Not!fic.

*(Technically inaccurate because I also wrote an epic campire/not!fic with Kieran Granola in 2022, but we’re still futzing about editing it. >.> )

[detectivereads]

Batman the Long Halloween: The Last Halloween #1 by Jeph Loeb

5/5

This post is for fan entertainment, I am not being paid.

Hi Everyone,

Yay! I love the Long Halloween series as I stated in my other post, I love the artwork and the story. I am happy that we got a sequel too it I wanted to know what happened to Gilda.

Ok the main story in this issue starts with Jim Gordon and his wife and son are out trick or treating. The son James was dressed in a Batman costume and that night it is raining. This seems to be the part of Jim life where he is having a rocky relationship with his wife, she makes a comment that he is on the phone when he is supposed to be enjoying family time.

With both parents being distracted James goes missing.

Now getting to Batman, now I haven’t read the prequel or the sequel, but I like that I am seeing Robin in this series I was thinking that this was set before Batman took on Robin as his sidekick. Now the duo are following Catwoman.

Catwoman is in the home of Mario Falcone, she is asking some strange questions to Mario about a painting which is a portrait of Mario’s parents. Catwoman doesn’t stay long, which causes Robin to spring into action, but he is quickly taken out.

After Batman tells off Robin, they hear a gun shot and see the falling figure of Catwoman, and once they get to the location where she fell, they see a familiar sight of a gun and a pumpkin. 

Batman thinks that this is copycat.

Going back to the Gordon family, Jim gets to work and goes to the Bat signal and Mrs. Gordon tells the cops on scene what happen but also has a break down too.

Now getting back to the Dents and Grundy. Grundy, who is guarding the door to where Two-Face room is, he is attacked. The enemies break in where they shoot Two-Face.

They know who Holiday is and they want to talk.

And cliffhanger.

Good grief, this was one of the suspenseful ways to end a issue and I can’t wait for the next issue.

Now hopefully if you are reading this that you have read or at least know about Long Halloween and the whole story.

I do have some questions

The enemies granted were wearing clown masks so my first thoughts that its Joker. Clown masks are his MO but this does seem on the nose here.

Whoever these goons work for they know who Holiday (the real Holiday) is.

[popculturebuffet]

September Striketacular! (Last Exit To Springfield, Canada on Strike, Lucky Strike and Blue Collar Scrooge Reviews( Comission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy union supporters and welcome to a very special event for this labor day weekend in honor of those brave souls in the WGA and SAG who are striking right now to create a better future for media: The SEPTEMBER STRIKETACULAR!

For those of you somehow out of the loop, Back in May the WGA went on strike for the understandable asks of better wages, better residuals for their work in the streaming era, and limits on AI to prevent Studios from using them as half assed replacements. Naturally this being Hollywood, the CEOS all bellowed no from their stygian towers and it was strike o clock.

Things esclated in July when SAG-AFTRA, already fully supporting the strike since it started and having similar needs, went on strike. Since then it's been mostly a stalemate. AMPTP has gone to the bargining tables a few times, but mostly with offers that don't even attempt compromise and attempted to shame them into accepting said offers. They've also flat out said they want to drag it out till "People start loosing their apartments and houses"

Thankfully unlike the previous writers strike, this one.. is working. While AMPTP is digging their heels in like the spoiled chlidren they are, support seems to be pretty much unanimously in favor of the striking workers. Not only that SAG has gone out of it's way to encourage it's wealthier members to donate to the strike fund to allow the members living on a more paycheck to paycheck basis to not "loose their houses and apartments" with The Rock giving a 7 figure statment. The AMPTP tried a counter narrative of it being wealthy elites.. and it seems to have utterly failed. All the blame on any delays in production and any possible content droughts.. is on the AMPTP.

So with AMPTP not seeming to give up the ghost any time soon, Kev had the brillliant idea to look at a bunch of episodes centering around strikes, letting me do most of the choosing while he made with the money. So I choose ones that fit the themes of this strike. So join me as I go thorugh some classic episodes of Simpsons, Ducktales, and Daria and a classic-ish episode of South Park to disect this strike, why i'ts important while also spotlighting some good episodes. And honestly while october is mostly full and november is getting that way, if this goes on i'll defintley be doing this again. Probably not as well made but frankly if AMPTP drags this shit out past halloween as they plan, they deserve the mockery. Four fresh and full reviews under the cut!

Last Exit to Springfield (The Simpsons) Last Exit To Springfield is an episode that for the longest time.. I never wanted to rewatch. See as a kid my little brain focused mostly on the braces part of it, and thus Lisa being forced into clunky awful braces, tormented by her doctor and told by a camera man "there is no god" and was likely a depressing slog. I foollishly assumed for YEARS chlid me was right and avoided it when possible.

So what changed? Simple, another critic. A few months ago I got introduced to simpsons youtuber TheRealJims via one of fellow youtuber ToonrificTariqs videos. Once I checked him out I was hooked on the guys positve nature, great takes and deep dives into simpsons, from showing the history of characters, to digging into weird questions like "who REALLY shot mr burns" and "what's up with Kearny's age?", to just reviewing episodes.

I mostly either agreed with his takes or could at least respect them... until we got to season 4 with one that puzzled me due to my childhood biases: he ranked Last Exit #1, citing it's rapid fire humor..a nd also revealing da lot of simpsons bits I truly loved, including one of my all time faviorites:

Just this two minute scene alone from HOmer's confused tone, to him repeating it despite it being pretty clear from context what a hired goon is, the guy straightining his tie and of course burn's justification of "I prefer the hands on touch you only get with hired goons". So with this new info I decided to at least give it one more try. And as you can probably guess by the fact it's in this collection, I did a full 180, crazy, thinkin bout the way I was.. and more importantly the years I wasted not watching this episode multiple times a year. Last Exit went from one of my most hated episodes to one of my personal faviorites.

Does this mean the dentist stuff played better to a 30 year old me versus baby boy me?

I got a few laughs this time: I love how all the dentists tools are horribly named and how casual he was about it, the laughting gas thing is fun and the book of british smiles is stupid enough to wrap around to being funny. I also absolutely loved the refrence to the burton batman film. So great.

But the stuff with LIsa herself.. still didn't work for the most part. Or marge, as the guy shouting LIAR to the nicest character in the show because she.. lied about her baby using a pacifier, isn't QUITE funny enough to make the bit work. Likewise his projection of lisa's teeth if she dosen't wear braces is needlessly mean. One of the co writers REALLY hated his orthdontist and it finally made all of this make sense. It's just not very good.

I will share some fun trivia I got from this episodes oral history though: they approached two diffrent guest stars for it: the first was Clint eastwood whose exact response was "Hell No". I half assume they brought up Paint Your Wagon years later out of spite. Or because they love gay polyamorus cowboy icons, Whose to say?

The other is more intresting and was more game, Psycho's Anthony Perkins. He was totally on board, but his failing health sadly meant he died before they could get it all worked out.

The thing is though while Lisa needing braces sets off the plot and gives homer a reason to get involved at all, it's not a huge part of the episode. We get a photographer responding to her smile with "There is no god" later, which I gotta admit has grown on me for the deliver and lisa joining in the protest sans braces, but it's mostly there for setup and to give the episode some emotoinal weight: We care about the strike because we care about lisa. It's why the episode needs it's weakest part: because nothing else would work as well without geninely weight behind homer's fight.

The real meat is the core conflict: the head of the union has mysteriously been buried in a football field somewhere, so Burns, being what your standard greedy ceo acts like when no one's looking, wants to gut their benifits starting with the dental plan.... just as homer needs it. So Homer, after taking a bit to put "Dental plan!" "Lisa needs braces' "dental plan" "Lisa needs braces' "Dental Plan" "Lisan needs braces" together into the right conclusion, ends up becoming head of the union despite it paying nothing.. unless your crooked (Woo-hoo!)

Really from the moment Burns enters musing on a childhood where his grandfather could have a boy taken away for stealing "atoms", and with said boy having warned him about uninons ("If only we'd listend to that boy instead of walling him up in the abandoned coke oven") , this episode pivots from depressing story of lisa getting braces, to one of the series finest farces. It's really a looney tune if bugs bunny was too stupid to notice anything happening to him.

As a result the episode is DENSELY packed with jokes. We have classics such as "Now do classical gas!" , "first thing tomorrow I'm gonna punch lenny in the back of the head!", "The blurst of times?!", "Where's my Burrito?!" (A personal faviorite), "it was the style at the time", along with less noted gems like Homer's weird Godfather fantasy sequence ("Mmmm organized crime"), Marge's hair getting chopped off by burns hellicotper, burns really needing to stop ending with the basement, homer being so clueless he assumes Burns trying to butter him up is Burns hitting on him, and what' sbecome my faviorite joke of the episode...

Every second of this is gold and it's hard to decide if homer screaming and then cheering or burns getting an "opneing tirade" nad his casual response of "yes thank you kent.

And this bit also underlines how well the episode gets labor disputes. It has some rough edges, the frequent mob allusions, the idea that most uninons are crooked, a lot of that is horribly out dated. But the core of it works: Burns isn't cutting benefits for any practical reason, he's cutting them to save them an extra penny; this whole strike, the money lost, burns various backfiring attempts to stop it, is simply because, like the current strike, someone wants to greedily horde money and the workers simply want want's fair. Burns tries most common strike tactics: breaking it up, sending goons to break it up, trying to make threats to the public at large. And while this being the social media age the former two aren't really in the AMPTP's book , Paramount at least trimmed a tree to take away shade from the strikers, while the "starve them out" tactic is just as petty. It also gives us even MORE great gags from Burns hose mishap, to him and smithers having a dandy time togehter as they run the plant, to the afformentiond abe simpson rant of legend. Burns is potrayed as cartoonishly evil.. but it speaks to the episodes strength that none of it is out of the bounds of reality for a change. Even trying to replace them with "loyal robot workers" is exactly the kind of threat the AMPTP is striking against. So yeah Last Exit is both a fantastic episode in it's own right.. and a great episode on unions that's held up well. Now for one that hasn't exactly held up so good.

Canada on Strike (South Park)

Canada On Strike is an intresting one as it's the only one of today's episodes directly about a previous strike.. and said strike is one that's vitally important to the ongoing one. COS was Matt and Trey's commentary the 07-08 writer's guild strike, the predecessor to the current one. And while South Park has had episodes that's incise takes were AHEAD of their time (the brittnay spears episode), or who despite the direct subject still have plenty of relevance (The bar), Canada on Strike falls into the category of "Has aged aabout as well as hot cheese on a glacier being set adrift because it's not your friend guy". It's not "Reinforcing harmful myths about trans women using a randy savage parody" bad mind but it's a reminder that while Matt and Trey sometimes hit an issue right on the head and do it perfectly like any person they can really, really fuck up. Also not remotely fun fact: i wasn't kidding that really is the episode.

In this case Matt and Trey , while sympathetic to the writers involved.. were not at all on board with the 07-08 writers strike, and outright said their concerns were overblown, particularly wanting residuals for internet content... after having just made a large deal for future streaming residuals for THEMSELVES long before streaming was viable, which still pays off to this day.

Creators were aware the internet wasn't FULLY monitizeable yet, but with itunes and amazon starting the digtial episode market, they could see it was the future. And given we now live in a world with about 80 streaming platforms and where family collectively subscribes to NINE as of this article, not to mention countless free ones and on demand services like Vudu, they were right on the target. As said in a speech by writer Harold Gould.

Soon, when computers and your TV are connected, that's how we're all going to watch. Okay? Those residuals are going to go from what they are towards zero if we don't make a stand now. ...

And you know what THEY DID. I know part of this is hindsight, but the fact remains they knew exactly what they were fighting for... and had to fight for it again. And even then they were also fighting for DVD residuals which were a bigger industry then and still exist enough to have been worth fighting for now. Matt and Trey were talking.. straight out of their ass thinking this was a fight over nothing.

Instead they portray the rest of the strikers (here as candains) as people caught along on the tides who just want to get back to work instead of people fighting so they can get paid fairly for work, and the leadership as a cluless asshat , steve abootman who has no idea who he's fighting for. The ONLY thing they get right is that the amptp, as one scene has the World's Natoins wondering if they can make otowa into an amusement park once everyone's dead from exaustion and hunger. Matt and Trey aren't REMOTELY sympathetic to them.. but their not to the strike itself either, just the people involved.

The other part of the plot.. is just horribly dated. The boys do a viral video based on a real viral video, aforementioned what what in my asshole, to get money only to get nothing. A bunch of dated at the time and even more dated now memes figh tto the death, our heroes get nothing, and matt and trey don't understand that montization from films and shows that were being SOLD online is diffrent from monetization of free content, which didn't exist yet and weirdly lump them together. The more I think about this episode the worse it gets and that's NEVER a good sign. I can only hope that like they've done in the past with Manbearpig, they make an episode that's an apology for this one.. and that transphobia shit. Seriously

This episode is an important cautionary tale though: because I watched it as a teen and didn't know that creators could be *gasp* wrong about things, I assumed they were right and the wga strike failed on it's own merits. It's a dangerous thing to put an idea out there when you know young people are watching and might belivie it. Just saying. IT's worth it if you can do it right.. but you have to or you'll just end up hurting people in the future.

Lucky Strike (Daria) And now we've gone from an episode I used to hate and absolutely love, to an episode I used to like but now hate.. to an episode I loved before and was reminded why I loved it so much.

Fun Fact: This was one of the first episodes of daria I ever saw See I got into the show via finding the first movie and the thing I keep missing the chance ot cover most, Daria: Is it Fall Yet?, which had two bonus episodes that helpfully set up the film and it's sequel Daria: Is it College Yet? that one ALSO had two bonuses, if a bit looser linked. Lucky Strike was one of them.

Why is this important? WHy didn't I just watch the seris in full? Well ti's simple: I couldn't. I didn't know you could find stuff like this online, and the dvds hadn't come out yet. I know because I got the complete series with some of my high school graduation money. I still own it. SO all I had were recaps online and these 4 episodes and 2 films.

And honestly while Lucky Strikes work even better with 4 seasons wroth of build up to it's conclusion.. it was a great early episode to watch on it's own and is one of Daria's best. Hands down. Rewatching it reminded me of so many great jokes.

Loudspeaker: Attention Lawndale Students! Jane: Is that the voice that tells me to kill and kill again? Daria: No. Satan's voice is lower and has a british accent.

The episode itself follows a teachers strike and shows it off really well. IT's probably the best teacher's strike i've seen in a cartoon and most strike episodes are teacher's strikes. It's a high bar. It points out how those in charge can deny a fair proposal.. simply because they don't want to. Ms. Li, the school's principal and money hungry tyrant, tries to bribe the teachers with a new coffee machine instead of a fair 5% raise. What helps the episode is like Mr Burns.. Mrs. Li is portrayred realistically for a company head despite being over the top petty for comedy purposes. If you haven't seen Daria, Mrs. Li is a horribly greedy person whose worried more about avoiding a lawsuit or getting the school, and herself, money than actually FUNDING said school or helping the students. Highlights of her dickery include: Punishing Daria for NOT selling Choclate to a woman who had severe health issues, forcing Mr. DiMartino, lawndales super stressed teacher and as we learn here union rep, to go on a casnio night the school was having despite having a gambling problem and him TELLING her this, selling the school out to a soft drink company, and finally at the top of season 2 censoring Daria and Jane's piece on anorexia then trying to punish them both for breaking in and vandalizing it. I saved that one for last as while ti's one of the earliest.. it also has one of Ms. Li's bigger compuances and one of the series finest moments.

So the episode both does a good job from context (the coffee machine dosen't even seem that fancY), and from history telling us "yeah she has the money she just won't pay it" just like the AMPTP, and just like them tries to villanize the striking teachers for darring to.. want actual money for having to deal with the kind of students who go to lawndale. It's a fair request. Ms. Li just won't pony up. It also heavily focuses on something the other episodes don't: scabs. South Park has a one off gag about scandivanivans I honestly forgot and simpsons just has smithers and burns do it in an entirely wholesome and hilarous montage. Here we see the scabs effect on the school.. and it isn't really good for the most part. Daria's class gets an elderly woman who calls her Darlene instead because Daria "Sounds like a hippie name" and seems to think she's teaching kindergarten, and is so out of it she FORGETS Darlene isn't daria's actual name when Daria leaves when called on the loud speaker ("I'm going to get daria"). I do love how she calls kevin QB thanks to his catchphrase though. Admitely I was worried this character would grate.. but forgot she's really only in about 2-3 minutes of episode total so she's there JUST long enough to work.

The other teacher... is just plain creepy and pathetic. We have Ken for Quinn's class. Ken is a pedophile. Him trying to groom tiffany is played as a joke. That said.. I do like that it , intetnionally or not, serves as a deconstruction for this kind of character in teen shows like this: in many , as iv'e found out via various retrospectives and watching them with my own eyes in some cases, have the pedophile teacher as a cool guy talking about game stop who woos one of the characters and is treated sympathetically.

Here Ken TRIES to be that.. but the fashion club don't take to it: Sandy is annoyed, Quinn dosen't get what's happening and Tiffany, who he's directly trying to groom.. is Tiffany, so dense no light can get through to her and thankfully no pedophiles. The scene itself is INTENDED to be funny but is just uncomfortable. While ti's mildly played for laughs that just don't work anymore, I can still respect that they throughly treat ken as a creep, treating his pedophila as

The next scene however is comedy gold. The Morgendorfers have dinner and Daria's Mom helen is doing what she tends to do when Quinn talks about her day unless i'ts plot relevant: Just kinda goes mhmmm. What makes the scene work though is as Daria hears the story she gets up... so that by the time we get to "Ken" stroking Tiffany's hair and Helen FINALLY getting the memo that "OH SHIT MY DAUGHTER'S BEING TAUGHT BY A PEDOPHILE AND HER FRIEND COULD BE GROOMED AND ASSAULTED" she ask sfor the phone.. and daria has it at the ready. It's just such a nice visual gag I tried to do it justice but can't. It also just works because Helen.. takes it super seriously and it shows how all too easily a parent can miss the signs of grooming. It also shows how this shit should be handled: the fucker needs to be sacked and Ms. Li does.. then goes further down the moral sewer as she not only clearly only did it for a lawsuit.. but tries to BLAME helen for doing it. "We wouldn't be in this fix if it wern't for your mother" "Yeah. Hire one pedophile and she gets all bent out of shape"

This leads to what the episodes REALLY about and what the strike was really for: Ms. Li asks daria to be a scab teacher for Quinn's class. She refuses at first, as anyone should.. but eventually buckles because it'd make Quinn miserable. She's still sympathetic though: she gives the class her best despite having every reason not to and she's 17 at this point. OF course she'd priortize bugging her sister over striking and it's nice that none of her teachers really seem to hold it against daria. Plus frankly if Daria refused Mrs. Li woul dlikely of found some way to try and railroad her into it anyway. As you heard when Helen evicerated her Daria undeerstandably wanting to withdraw her work was met with a hell no.

The result is pure comedy gold. Helen and Jake don't really object: Helen is happy Quinn now has access to her teacher 24/7 and Jake, my boy and sharer of the name and the stress and anger issues, is happy to have model train time. God bless this trainwreck of a human being. We also get Daria adressing her as "Class" at breakfast just to piss quinn off and threanting to fail her for funsies.

That said Daria DOES take the job seriously.. or as seriously as Daria can at this point in her life. THat is to say we still get even more comic gold with my faviorite being who she refers to Jamie, Joey and Jeffy, three meatheaded jocks who take turns dating quinn and fighting over quinn, as "Jamie, Joey or Jeffy" no matter which one she speaks to. Which

I can't either. I could look it up but they only LOOK diffrent. They don't act diffrent. We also get some nice bits here and there like one of the j's actually impressing her with his interpretation mercutio was into romeo ("Even if your thoguhts on keeping him out of the shower were a little close minded) and figuring out their talking romeo and juliet in the first place because he describes Romeo as a stalker. The real meat character wise though is with Quinn, daria's sister. For those less familiar with the show, from the first episdoe to this point, Quinn has always come up with some excuse for who daria is: her cousin, foreign exchange student, etc. Sandy, her main rival and head of the fashion club, thehir shared clique, saw through it pretty quickly, and tends to hold it over her head when possible without spilling the tea.

Here's where that reaches a breaking point: Sandy wants Quinn to tell Daria to give them all good grades, and as usual implies she'll drop the hammer if she dosen't. Daria naturally. has no intention of doing this when Quinn asks that night. Also Tom her boyfriend is here for a scene. Hi tom. I'll get to you again someday. What's telling though in how far both characters have come.. is how Daria responds "Why are you defendign the stupid quinn, your not one of them?" Quinn assumes she's going to do bad too.. but when talking to Jake, finds she actually knows this stuff.. and the confidence to just try her hardest herself , come what may. While she didn't get the message at first... she realizes Daria ACTAULLY belivies in her. She wouldn't say it directly.. but the setiment is there and it shows how far both have come: Daria can actually compliment her sister easily, if roundaboutly and Quinn has the confidence to try being smart without doing so just for attention.

So naturally Sandy fails, and Quinn finally admits Daria is her sister. And what happens with her other friends, the aformentioned Tiffany and Stacey, who gets a LOT of development this season but is weridly out of focus this episode and I should probably do a special on at some point in herself.. take it fine. They also saw though it and were just being polite to Quinn, who clearly didn't WANT to admit Daria was her sister and Sandy, who they assumed didn't know. It's a perfect payoff to the series biggest running gag and a nice moment of character growth.

As for the actual strike stuff we're here for what's neat is that it isn't just.. thrown away. It becomes the b-plot once Daria becomes a teacher, halfway in no less... but it's not forgotten: We get some fun bits with Jane and Trent, jane's slacker brother as Trent gets asked by cheery sunshiny mr. o'neil to help make a protest song, while Jane gets roped by the art teacher (and the only teacher she reallly likes and who supports her) int ohelping with signs (And has "the scab) sign her a note to get out of class. ).

The main attraction here though is Mr. Demartino. I mean it usually is, he's the best, but after apparently botching the last time they struck, he refuses to give up when the teachers get worn down a bit and spends an ENTIRE NIGHT negotating and not backing down. The best bit is easily:

Ms. Li: Don't think you can intimiate—intermolate—don't think you can scare me with your threat to picket naked!

Mr. DeMartino: You think I'm bluffing?! This is Goodwill polyester I've been sweating in all night. I want to picket naked!

Ms. Li: All right! A two percent raise and a space heater for the teacher's lounge.

Mr. DeMartino: (tugs on collar) Boy! It's getting hot in here!

That last line lives rent free in my head. The delivery is so good. And... Mr. D gets a RARE victory. I mean he still has his shitty job but he actually WINS the strike and gets ms li to sign in her delrium. Granted his confidence boost dies the moment he has to teach kevin again but still it's a nice little victory for a guy who life is determined to kick in the crotch till he has an ulcer and dies.

Lucky Strike is excellent: if you haven't watched daria it's a good episode to try it out and if you have it' sworth a rewatch. It's hilarious, gets striking down well, and has a lot of great character stuff. As I said one of the series best.

Blue Collar Scrooge (Ducktales0 This one came late in the process as we WERE going to do Squid on Strike.. but remembering this existed, it fit the themes of this strike better and was another half hour show so we went with it. It's also the only episode in this special I hadn't seen before.. and while I'm the one who brought it up.. I was also dreading it

See this episode centers around amnesia and i'm not a fan of amnesia episodes most of the time: they usually go thorugh the same beats of the person acting diffrent, being diffrent and ocsasionaly being tricked into thinknig their completely diffrent. It just gets old after a while. There are exceptions, such as bloom county's take on it

Usually though I hate these kinds of episodes.. so it was an utterly plesant suprise to see Ducktales 87, a show I've mostly thoguht of as "okay"... do a REALLY intresting take on it that also handles the plight of the working person with tact for the most part.

What makes it truly work.. is rooting it in character: Scrooge is doing his usual thing making a suprise interaction on his skateboard factory

And I love the joke of his employees just.. humoring him as they alwasy know when it's happening. This episode is REALLY funny and it's something that suprised me as outside of .. a certain moment

I never think of DuckTales 87 of being a paticuarlly funny show but this episode man. Lots of nice gags. The owner gives the boys one on the house which they sneak back after Scrooge says "they have enough toys". And somehow he's STILL the better guardian than donald

God I missed these ducks. Anyways Scrooge gets conked on the head with it a ways from home and ends up with Amensia. And weirdly.. it's not even as much of a stretch as it should be that no one finds him and he goes unoticed. Scrooge dosen't have his top hat, cane, pocket full of miracles or nifty specs. He just has his coat, and thus looks like any other old man and thanks to his amensia defaults to alan young's regular voice. Also alan young is southeren apparently

Yup. And we get some actually good amnesia gags: Scrooge calling his usual accent silly, having no luck with money and in a bit that's both kind of funny but also sad looking for himeslf on milk cartons.. and getting thrown out because the guy thinks he's teling a joke despite having been dead serious.

Anyways he finds his way to fenton's mom's garbage. Fenton.. dosen't go home because he's looking for scrooge. Okay that one's a bit more of a leap in logic as you think he'd at least go home to tell his mom he wont' be or call, but hey everything else checks out: scrooge is lost in a big city without anything ot idefnity him other than his neat sideburns. It stands to reason that unless the nephews, mrs. b, Fenton or Webby if she was in this episode saw him face to face, it woudln't be that easy for someone else to and as Fenton later poitns out they can't exactly tell the police or anyone who'd wrap this up as it could sink his buisnesses till he's found. And given how this episode ephasies he owns most of Duckburg that's a LOT of people who end up out of a job.

Anyways she's worried at first because EWWWW HOMELESS.. god the 90's were shitty to homeless people. and the 2000's. and the 2010's and present day. At least media is nicer? A little? Anyways, he compliments her dinner and we get another great bit as she makes sure he's single and asks if he has a pulse.. and him checking it is just great. It'd be the best pulse checking joke of all time if this didn't exist

And is it mildly creepy Fenton's mom is hitting on any avaliable man? Yes. Is Fenton's mom the best character here? No. Is it mildly classit to use tv dinners as a symbol of the working class. A little.

But weirdly.. their romance works fo rme. Scrooge with his amnesia is sweet to her and Mrs. C , while clearly into him because again he has a pulse, geninley tries to help, is touched when he later uses his days wages to take her out for dinner as thanks, and helps him when he has a hard day working at the skate board factory as he can only remember skateboards and his boss just.. takes the guy in because why not. It shows how some workplaces will just take every body they can get..a nd then abuse them as lunch break is literally just a minute. Which if employers coudl do that they would. It's why we need strikes and unions.. as this special has shown if an employer CAN get away with something they will. Scrooge plans to sell his factory, putting everyone in it out of work for a profit before his skateboard to the head. and to Mr. Trumpcard. I mean if you can sell your workplace to trump you truly are without a soul.

Scrooge's does show as this scrooge. .is an intresting what if: He's Scrooge if he never got his big break with the goose egg nugget. He has all the work ethic, gumption and desire for money as the regular scrooge but without the greed, cynisim and selfishness he picked up along the way. He's a kinder gentler scrooge whose happy to splurge on a pizza to make someone who was nice to him happy and who ends up leading a strike at work after Scrooge's own secretary leaks the sale to the one at the skateboard plant. He's got the fire, as he ironically grows to hate himself even before the strike, it's just better directed without any prodding or a loved one in danger.

This gets the attention of ... Fenton who dresses up as scrooge to keep the deal going and then has to go attend to the factory and get sso lost in the role he thinks he IS scrooge leading to a hilarious and engaging showdown.. and Scrooge getting his momeroy back and stealing his clothes off fenton

What I like though is the symbolism here> It's about as subtle as a brick, but it works: Scrooge literallys ees himself an dhow he was acting... and through his amensia learned what it was like. They never overly focus on that last part and that's why it works: thorugh his time not knowing who he was, Scrooge got in touch with his routes and stopped being AS corrupt an asshole. It's a true problem in labor disputes: the people at the top lack emptathy and just want money, and it was easy to put scrooge and someone who thought he was scrooge breifly in the villian roll as those are two of his biggest flaws. Even once he snaps out of it he has to be glarred into giving them a dollar an hour raise.

He dosen't even abandon Mrs. Crackshell which is nice. She assumes he will.. but he still has his soaps and the two walk off together. Does this go anywhere? No. But should it if the show comes back. And do I want to think about this relationship beyond how cute it is because it'll lead me to some very dark and horrifying places? NOPE.

Bluecollar Scrooge restored my faith in 87 ducktales after the mini series burned me out on it. It's funny, has a good message, is well animated and while a bit of a stretch, it's just far enough to work without being frustrating. So all in all a good crop of episodes and one dud. Not bad at all. Support the strikers, fuck the AMPTP and thanks for reading.

PS: I almost didn't metnion the greatest scene in comedy history. Behold.

[floydsmuse]

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE MEGGY!!!!! I come bearing another basket of thought/thots straight from the pantry (lol).

Lets just say you and Rhett keep a very well stocked collection of books (lol). Rhett is a voracious reader, especially during the winter when there's not alot of chores to be done. He'll eat up books like they're popcorn and it actually got to the point where his room was starting to look like a used bookshop.

One summer, the Duttons came down from Bozeman and Kayce, Rip, Beth, Monica, John and Royal all helped you renovate an abandoned barn on the property just up the little path from the house and my God did that thing need some serious TLC. But by the time you guys were done the very next summer, you had the best little library on the property!

The Cozy Corner was always the first thing you would see when you'd come in and just behind it was the little kitchen area. The corner had a big giant throw rug and a space for the woodstove, a big stretch of window seat with drawers underneath and low stretches of shelves for some of the little, little children's books you've collected from Rhett's childhood. Of course he still has Goodnight Moon, Peter Rabbit and Winnie The Pooh which he passed down to Amy when you guys adopted her, but there's also some little paperbacks there too, such as Matilda, James And The Giant Peach, Charlie And The Chocolate Factory and of course, Rhett's absolute favorite, The Indian In The Cupboard. One story that Amy absolutely loves is called She Was Nice To Mice and it's about the little mice that lived in the court of Queen Elizabeth I and all the shenanigans they caused (lol).

Oh but of course there are stacks and stacks and stacks of books on the shelves upstairs that are suited for everybody in the family. Royal absolutely loves reading The Hobbit to the babies and they think it's hilarious that he reminds them so much of Beorn (lol). You guys have all the Lord Of The Rings books complete with the illustrations and everything. During the summer, you and Rhett will read Treasure Island, The Swiss Family Robinson, Robin Hood and Peter Pan to the babies and they absolutely EAT IT UP!! Tatum and Tanner, your twin boys are obsessed with Treasure Island and anything that even remotely resembles The Goonies (lol).

The girls love the Grimm's Fairy Tales even though some of the endings are a little bit above the PG rating, they love Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel. Muchie Lal was always a favorite of theirs which is about a little prince in India who was raised by a nine-headed cobra. Snow White is another favorite of theirs along with The Goose Girl, Diamonds and Toads and The Princess And The Frog. Rhett even managed to get a copy of The Arabian Nights and all the babies love that on top of everything else. The boys can't get enough of Sinbad The Sailor while Aladdin was always a favorite of everyone's (lol).

At Halloween it's almost always Dracula and Frankenstein. The babies might not be at the most appropriate age for it, but you and Rhett couldn't resist when your boys all came running to the cozy corner one day with a copy of Dracula (lol). Rhett will even read them a parody of Goodnight Moon which is called Goodnight Goon and the boys always say goodnight to the monsters under the bed after that (lol).

Dinotopia by James Gurney has always been another favorite of everyone's. The babies love the illustrations in them and how colorful they are and almost always wanna see what it's like to ride on a dinosaur. The babies have even drawn in their own little notebooks as if they were in the world of Dinotopia, pretending to explore and keep track of the dinosaurs and after a while they got really good at it. Even their teachers are a little surprised that they can draw so well at such a young age (I firmly believe that you and Rhett sent the kiddos to one of those hippie schools that emphasizes drawing, outdoor play and all the creative arts, lol).

Meggy there's alot more I could add to this but I don't think I'll have the space for it (lol).

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE MY DARLING <3 hehe yay! more thoughts & thots :) i can’t wait to read them !!!

~ first, i love wifey & Rhett having a book collection! second, i love Rhett being an avid reader & bookworm! i could honestly see that under the rough & toughened cowboy persona! the winter is certainly the best time to read cause you can just curl up under a bunch of blankets, get cozy, & crack open a good book :) Rhett’s room looking like a little bookshop is the cutest thing i’ve ever read please !!!

~ ooh! i remember you bringing this up over our messages & Mary can i say, it’s the best thought ever!! i love the idea of everyone getting together to renovate the barn into a library! like who wouldn’t want that?! it’s just so awesome☺️ lovin’ the name the Cozy Corner! the way you described it sounds so warm & homey :,) the kids books! OMG! i remember Goodnight Moon, Peter Rabbit, & Winnie the Pooh so vividly!! such staples in my growing up🥹 Matilda still remains one of my favorite films of all time & i enjoyed the book too! Charlie & the Chocolate factory being Rhett’s fav just makes so much sense to me ?! idk, but it def works! ahh! The Indian in the Cupboard makes me think about elementary school !! i miss being little haha :)

~ you already know how I feel about Lord of the Rings! im a huge fan hehe🤭 & i love that it’s included in their book collection! also love that Royal reads the Hobbit to the babies & i could even picture him doing different voices for each of the characters 🤣 he could do a spot on impression of Gandalf, mark my words! the twins & Rhett being super into Treasure Island is just so great too !! Robin Hood & Peter Pan are such classics & absolutely essential to the collection :)

~ yess! the Grimm Fairytales are just awesome & i really love all the different princess stories !! ooh Dracula & Frankenstein during Halloween time couldn’t be more perfect! i also imagine all the kids getting together to read spooky stories & cuddle up like a bunch of scaredy cats when they hear a noise, but it’s only because they are literally in an old barn & it’s destined to make all sorts of creaky sounds😭 haha! Goodnight Goon i’ve heard of, it definitely sounds cute! & aww, the boys saying goodnight to the monsters under their bed is so adorable! :,)

~ Dinotopia sounds really cool! i actually had to look it up real quick to see what it was all about & i have to say, the illustrations are just incredible! i could see why they would love the book so much!! the babies getting into drawing because of this story?! Mary! that is so sweet 🥹 the hippie school thing is soo true! i could totally picture Rhett & wifey sending the kids to it!! hehehe!

Mary, thank you so much for these lovely little thoughts! they brightened my day & i just loved reading them like always 🥰 i hope you have a wonderful New Year’s Eve my love! 💗

[mxstball]

“Trick or treat!” From Iris in a handmade Sylveon costume.

"[SYLVVVVVVVV]" There's Fairy Goon Leader Sylveon. She looks like she's LOVING the outfit!

"Happy Halloween!" Kathy was here, dressed up to look like Serena! "Oh, that's really cute! You made that yourself? That's awesome!" Now, Kathy is giving candy.