#also i just noticed that sasha counts as robot

[detective-shirogane124]

Not Greg and Outis beefing in the observation logs

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Azu is the youngest member of the LOLOMG, even if we count all the NPCs that unoficially joined the party! A thing no one would ever know because she is the only one with emotional maturity and an once of common sense.

Bertie is Bertie and I'm really glad they never met. Sasha is just looking for dark corners. Zolf needs projects and he'll just leave at points because it's too much. Hamid is just putting himself in situations. Grizzop refuses to stop and keeps moving foward without a plan. Cel is actualy more emotionally mature than people give them credit for... would still turn themselfs into a robot for shits and giggles if unsupervised.

Than we have Einstein who I love but also like he would totaly hide a zombie bite. The ultimate himbo Ed. Earhart who is just "if it takes sacrifícing myself and everyone around me to kill a dragon I will". Wilde didn't noticed he was being cursed for months because not sleeping for a month because of nightmares that make you bleed it's just a shitty wednesday I guess? Carter is just a bunch of issues in a trenchcoat. Barnes makes Zolf seems emotionally open. Kiko is actually okay and the love of Azu's life, good for her. Skraak is the new "I'm fine" meme after Wilde just gave up (not in a healthy way either). Sassra (and look Cel is here again and so is Zolf) is just trying to fix problems she can't fix forever and ever.

Azu is dealing with her own baggage while having to deal with everyone else because she is somehow the adult in the room! She is 13 (mentaly she is in her early 20's but still). She is baby. What a queen.

[thekisforkeats]

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

[duckapus]

Calvin’s Cannery and Cerebral Cyberspace

Two ideas I had for Psychonauts mental worlds.

Calvin’s Cannery is inside the mind of Dr. Calvin Marlin, a marine biologist and powerful telekinetic who’s been stuck in a lab at the bottom of the ocean alone for five years because his bosses are shit and it’s hard to argue worker’s rights when you’re living underwater and relying on supply deliveries and metal domes to stay alive. He’s found by Milla and Raz when they sense a psychic distress signal coming from his subconscious while on a completely different mission.

When they find him he’s become so wrapped up in his work through a combination of hyperfixation and mental breakdown that he doesn’t even notice there’s finally other people in front of him, so they go in to get him un-stuck. As the name implies, the mental world combines his love of fish and hatred of his thankless, literally-dead-end job into a sardine canning factory run by the very sardines that get canned there, with Raz and Milla entering via cans small enough that Raz finds them cramped and Milla...well, let’s just say it’s a very good thing that she’s an astral projection. Calvin’s inner self has gotten stuck inside the factory’s mechanisms, and to get him out the agents have to reach the control room and switch everything from automatic to manual.

Obviously this isn’t as simple as just walking through the factory floor, since the entire place has been warped into a deadly obstacle course that violates every OSHA regulation you can think of as well as several laws of physics. There’s also the Floor Manager, a hulking whale of a sardine who considers Raz and Milla employees and will can them both figuratively and literally if he catches them “slacking off,” which applies to pretty much every action you can take, so just don’t get caught. At the end of the level he’s the one who gets caught in the machines, specifically a food processor used to make canned tuna, and merges with it to become a boss I’m currently calling the Daily Grinder.

Afterwards Calvin tags along with the agents so he can escape the lab, quit his job, get some fucking therapy, and take legal action against the godawful company that left him to rot down there.

Cerebral Cyberspace is inside an Artificial Intelligence that serves as the main computer of a Psychonauts base where all the agents have mysteriously disappeared. Looking into those disappearances is what Raz and Milla’s mission was in the first place, and in order to continue the investigation they need to find the security camera footage between when they were last heard from and now. Unfortunately the computer is infested with viruses that make it impossible for them to find anything, and it could take hours or even a full day for Sasha to talk Milla through fixing it(since the three people actually there aren’t tech savy enough to do it on their own).

Raz ends up doing his own thing in the meantime and realizes that the computer has a mind of its own, so he decides to see if it counts enough as a mind for him to project into it. Turns out it does, so now he can find the footage and clear out the viruses from the inside. It has that futuristic white blue and chrome look that a lot of sci fi stuff has, and the AI(initially called Unit KL-C41905, then renamed to Kelsie), creates a little floating robot avatar so she can follow Raz around and help out. The boss of the area is the original virus, which has merged into Kelsie’s central processor and is holding the security camera files hostage.

Afterwards it’s revealed that the Psychonauts in the base were abducted by some notorious group of psychic villains that I haven’t come up with a name for yet, and it’s also revealed that while Raz was in there, his body, Milla and Calvin were also taken, stranding his astral projection in Kelsie’s mind. At least until she manages to rig up a temporary robot body for him to use while the two of them work together to fix this.

[thekingofwinterblog]

Some worries about Amphibia 3B

So just something that worries me now that we have seen a full list of all the episode synopsis. also, SPOILERS, obviously.

"Commander Anne": Anne is made leader of the Wartwood Resistance, even though she's not good at the job.

"Sprivy": Sprig and Ivy devise a scheme to be together.

"Sasha's Angels": A team of Resistance fighters gets captured by ruthless marauders.

"Olm Town Road": Anne and her friends search for the ancient city of Proteus.

"Mother of Olms": Anne and the crew meet with Mother Olm, the keeper of ancient prophecies.

"Grime's Pupil": Due to dire circumstances, Grime is forced to train an apprentice.

"The Root of Evil": Anne and the Plantars get stuck in a strange village of plant lovers.

"The Core & the King": King Andrias confronts the demons of his past.

"Newts in Tights": While on a recon mission, Anne and Sprig confront an old mentor.

"Fight or Flight": Anne tries to rescue an old friend from one of King Andrias' robot camps.

"The Three Armies": Anne and Sasha must convince the frogs, newts and toads to work together.

"The Beginning of the End": The final battle begins.

"All In"

"The Hardest Thing"

Not counting the 3 part finale as separate episodes, there are exactly 14 episodes left of Amphibia.

And frankly, just looking at these episode blurbs, it seems a ludicrous amount of these look like they will feature neither Sasha nor Marcy as a main focus.

Let’s go over all of them.

commander Anne will undoubtledly feature Sasha front and center in some way, so that ones not a problem.

Sprivy will be focused on Ivy and Sprigg, and maybe Sasha and Anne will be featured, but they probably will not be all that much in the spotlight.

Sasha’s Angels will be a Sasha focused episode.

Olm Town Road speciffically mentions Anne and her “Friends” So Sasha may, or may not be amongst that catagory depending on wheter or not she and Sasha make up very, very quickly.

Mother of Olms is a sequel, so it will feature the same cast. So wheter Sasha will be amongst those depends on the previous episode.

The Root of Evil speciffically notes Anne and the Plantars, and not Anne and her friends.

The Core and the king is the big flashback episode, and so will probably feature Darcy in some capacity.

Newts in Tights speciffically mentions Anne and Sprig on a mission, and an old mentor. Probably neither Sasha nor Marcy.

Fight or Flight will probably be the big confrontation episode between Anne and Darcy.

The Three Armies is an episode where Anne and Sasha will work together to convince the three main races of Amphibia to work together as one in preparation for the final battle. Darcy might be featured.

The beginning of the end, is where the endgame begins. Darcy will probably be featured here in a major role.

All in is the point of no return. So Anne, marcy and Sasha.

And the hardest Thing is of course the finale, so undoubtedly will be all about Anne, Marcy and Sasha.

So i might have to admitt i was completely off about 3B once it’s done, but frankly just from looking at these episode guides, im noticing that a lot of them seem to go out of their way to note that she either wont be in them, or leave it very ambigious wheter she’ll be featured.

In fact, lets break down which she HAS to feature a major role.

Commander Anne, Sasha’s Angels, The Three Armies, The beginning of the end, All in, and the hardest thing.

that’s 6 out of 14.

and 4 of those are literarily at the end.

Now maybe i have to eat these words in time, but frankly it sounds from these like Sasha is going to be a side player in the first half of season 3A, only to come back and be a main character only when the show reaches the endgame.

And Darcy? Darcy is even WORSE somehow. if these aren’t misleading, and Marcy actually shows up in 3 armies, then she will be a main focus in 6 out of 14, just like Sasha, and unlike Sasha, she seemingly won’t be showing up as a main character until 7 episodes in. that’s half the season. And She’s the main final villain. It really does sound like the writers took the whole tuxedo mask meme “my work here is done” “but you didnt do anything” that some people linked her with to heart.

And then there is the final episode. The Hardest Thing.

fermented-writers-block had a theory that The ultimate endgame of the story is simply Anne, Marcy and Sasha letting go of each other, not in a bad way, but simply accept that they had too toxic a relationship and that wheter or not they can truly be friends or not in the future they need to break off at the moment.

so “the hardest thing” is to let go/move on.

And frankly im starting to believe that too. because it seems to me that despite promising that this part of the series will be all about anne, sasha and Marcy and their bonds, these really do make it sound like that for half the season the three won’t actually interact much in these plots.

frankly it sounds like all the trio’s interactions will mostly be crammed in at the end rather than actually being developed over the course of the season. If so, and if the trio actually does go their separate ways as suggested by the title, then it sounds to me like we’re heading for a repeat of the final season of Steven universe. where the big final arc that the entire series was all built on, on the trio moving on, is going to be too rushed and crammed into too little space to actually work.

and even if “the hardest thing is to forgive”, then it really does sound like none of the girls will get the focus needed to make this an organic development.

I really, REALLY hope im wrong, but it really does sound like the trio will only be interacting together for real, true development in the final end portion of the series. Essentially doing the exact same thing that Season 2 did, with them only getting together near the end, only this time its the actual ending, and there is NOTHING after this.

Again, i hope im wrong. i hope that both Sasha and Darcy gets plenty and consistent screentime this season, but if these summaries are generally on the level, it sounds like the team spent way too much time on Earth, realized that they had to get back to Amphibia, then realised that they had plenty of other stories they wanted to tell besides the main trio, and as such had to either cut those stories, or make Sasha and Darcy’s roles much smaller, and they choose the second option.

[elisela]

in a language you can understand buck x eddie, g, 2k, for anon who asked for Eddie buying little gifts for Buck and hiding them in his work bag

--

He blames it on hour twenty-three of a twenty-four hour shift when what comes out of his mouth after Chim tosses a bag of Skittles at his face is “I bet I could fit all these in my mouth at once.”

Hen shakes her head, Chim snorts, but Buck narrows his eyes and leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself as close to Eddie as he can get without climbing over the thing. “Coward,” he says, his mouth quirking into a grin, “I bet I could fit two.”

“Not at the station,” Bobby says, sounding bored. “There’s too much paperwork involved if one of you becomes injured on the job, even if it’s your own fault.”

“No, definitely at the station,” Hen says. “There’s more work involved if we have to break in a new probie because one of you idiots chokes to death.”

The conversation drifts, and Eddie forgets about it until he’s at the grocery store later, ignoring the way his son sticks out his lower lip as he begs for a candy bar. When Chris picks up a bag of Skittles, Eddie sighs and says yes, then throws two more bags on the conveyor belt when Chris isn’t looking.

He hides them in Buck’s work bag the next day.

---

“Skip-It,” Hen says, looking wistful. “My neighbor had one when I was a kid and I swear, I used to stare at her for hours when she’d play in the courtyard. I wanted one so badly.”

“Couldn’t you just … skip?” Buck asks, looking confused. “You needed a toy for that?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “It went around your ankle,” she says. “Here, I’ll google it for you.”

“What about you, Cap?” Chim asks, as Buck leans his head in towards Hen to peer at her phone. “Which childhood toy did you miss out on?”

Bobby tilts his head for a moment. “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots,” he says, refocusing on the pan in front of him. “My Mom thought they were too violent. She’d have a lot to say about what kids are playing with now.”

“Oh, don’t start us on the ‘kids these days’ speech,” Buck groans. “Quick, Eddie, distract him.”

“Uhh,” Eddie says, thinking—he’s sure there are there plenty of toys he’d begged for but never received, but clearly his parents had been right when they said he’d forget about them because he can’t recall a single one, except—“moon shoes,” he says, and at Buck and Hen’s blank look, he appeals to Chim. “You know, they were about four inches tall, like mini-trampolines? My parents said I’d break my ankle.”

“They were probably right,” Buck says. “You know how many calls we get because of trampoline accidents.”

“Alright, Bambi,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Most of us have control over our own limbs. What’s yours, then?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s kinda stupid, but there weren’t any kids in our neighborhood and Maddie wasn’t really into stuff like this, but you remember that game where you had like—a velco glove? And you’d catch a tennis ball?”

“Magic Mitt,” Chim says, snapping his fingers. “I wanted one of those, too. I should buy one for the baby.”

“I’d pay to see a three month old who could catch,” Hen says at the same time as Buck snorts and says, “I bet Maddie will love you throwing a tennis ball at Joy’s head.”

Three weeks later, Eddie’s gently pushing Chris out of the dollar section at Target when he spots a round velcro disc with a tennis ball attached in a bin full of summer games. He grabs two; one gets tossed on the back porch with the rest of Christopher’s outdoor toys, and the other goes in his work bag until it can be transferred to Buck’s locker.

----

The thing is, Eddie’s been in love with Buck for … well. He’d felt something for him right away, the type of attraction that goes beyond surface level, the pull towards another person’s soul, all of Buck’s goodness a lit beacon that illuminated Eddie’s way back to being whole. It was just never the right time, not with all his insecurities, Buck’s insecurities—every time Eddie thought maybe, the universe said not yet. His common sense gave way to guilt when Shannon reappeared, all of Buck’s near-death experiences, the way he so easily lost control of himself when what anchored him was suddenly gone.

It’s not that he thinks they don’t have what it takes to go the distance, but after Shannon—he’s more cautious now. He knows relationships take work and he’s willing to put that in, but he also knows how easily things break, and he’s not about to lose the one shot he has with Buck, so he’s just … waiting for the right time.

It’s probably been the right time for awhile now, but somehow, despite Hen and Chim’s ongoing conversation about who will ask out who first that regularly takes place in front of him (Buck, they unanimously decided), he hasn’t been able to go through with it.

----

After that, it’s little rubber toys that grow in water (shaped like a fireman and a fire truck), a candle that smells like lemon (because Buck had peeled one and eaten it like an orange the week before), a pack of two half-gallon, brown glass jars with “coffee” written on the side after a week that Buck worked three 36 hour shifts, a mini-waffle maker, a jar of Nutella (which Eddie had then been forced to watch Buck lick—so very slowly—off a spoon, an image which had not left his mind for several very long, lonely weeks), a packet of stickers that was surely meant for teachers but Buck immediately started giving out to everyone at the station (Eddie had laughed himself silly at the look on Chim’s face when Buck slapped one of a unicorn that said “great job!” on his uniform shirt and said “great job dating my sister!”), notebooks and silly pens—for months, every time he saw something small and cheap that made him think of Buck, he’d buy it and find a way to hide it in Buck’s bag or locker.

Buck never says anything, but Eddie watches the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he finds something, the way his smile softens into something more private and tender, sees how Buck makes sure he shows whatever it is off in front of Eddie—chugging cold brew straight out of the coffee bottle before he makes a face at the bitter taste, spends hours on the couch playing hangman with Hen in the notebooks, handing her the blue pen with the googly-eyed flamingo on top and keeping the one shaped like a shark for himself, trying to keep a straight face while his shoulders shake with laughter as Bobby reprimands both of them for shooting their coworkers with squirt guns while they run around the fire station. He doesn’t need Buck to say anything—he likes that he doesn’t, that it’s just something between the two of them that Buck doesn’t make into a big deal.

It goes on for so long that it’s almost second nature to pick something up for Buck whenever he goes shopping, and gradually, the gifts get a little more—intentional. A tie-dye hoodie after he sees a picture of an eight year old Buck wearing one (and a matching one for Chris), a “world’s best uncle” mug after Buck worries that Albert sees Joy more than he does and she might start to prefer him, a Greek cookbook after the fifth time they go out to the new restaurant in his neighborhood (Eddie might get more out of that than Buck does considering the sheer amount of baklava that starts appearing at the station—Eddie’s favorite treat).

As it turns out, he thinks about Buck a lot.

-----

“Sasha says you have to get your best friend an extra special Halloween treat,” Chris says, looking over the row of candy carefully.

“Sound like Sasha wants better candy,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag of caramel apple suckers for the station.

And maybe for himself.

Chris gives him a look. “Sasha’s not my best friend,” he says, turning back to the candy. “Buck is.”

“Well, can’t stand in the way of that,” he says. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

Chris finally hands him a bag of fancy marshmallows shaped like mummies, and peers into the cart. “What’d you get him this time?”

Eddie stares at him.

“You always get him something,” Chris says. “He’s your best friend, too, you need to get him something extra special. Hey, maybe you should tell him to get me something special, too.”

“Like he needs any more encouragement,” Eddie says.

On their way through the bakery aisle, he spots frosted cookies with phrases piped onto them; he grabs a witch that says “you’re bewitching” on it, and puts it in Buck’s locker just before the end of their shift.

Buck smiles all the way out to his Jeep.

-----

The week after, it’s a travel coffee mug that says “I think you’re spooktacular” that Buck carries with him on every call for three shifts before Chim puts it in the top rack of the dishwasher and it melts the side.

The pout on Buck’s lips pleases Eddie a little too much. So when he’s browsing the shelves at Target, waiting for Chris to find a costume he finds suitable that is also school appropriate and finds another Halloween themed cup—this time, with “Will you be my boo?” written on it, he only hesitates for a moment before putting it in the cart.

He doesn’t build up the courage to put it in Buck’s bag for two weeks—it’s not until Eddie notices the way that his face falls after six shifts with nothing new appearing in his locker that he shoves it in Buck’s bag after a shift, when Buck runs upstairs to give something to Chim.

They’re saying goodbye to Hen when Buck turns towards him suddenly. “I have something for Chris,” he says, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes when Buck sets his bag down and opens it up. He stares at the cup for a long time, then looks up at Eddie, glances at Hen, and smiles. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, “you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow? Like—a date?”

Hen’s bag hits the floor.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head as Buck’s mouth twitches. “No, you don’t get to take credit for this, I practically—that counts as me asking,” he says, waving towards the bag. “I asked you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, tossing a paper bag at him before standing up and clapping him on the shoulder. “Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll pick you up because I asked you,” he says, looking over at Hen. “I did. Show her the cup, Buck.”

“Dress warm, we’re going to a corn maze,” Buck says, skipping backwards with a wink. “And grab some blankets for your truck!”

-----

The week after their first date, there’s a small framed picture sitting in his locker—Buck with his arm around Eddie’s shoulders at the corn maze, their smiling faces lit by the bonfire, a bottle of beer dangling from Buck’s fingers. The lettering on the frame says “thankful for you” with a tiny leaf etched next to it.

Eddie sets it out on their reception table two years later.

[nautiscarader]

Okay, so I’ve been thinking about Anne, Sasha and Marcy as RPG tropes

And her appearance in “Marcy at the gates” has sealed it for me: the three main girls of Amphibia represent three RPG class stereotypes: Warrior, Mage, and Rogue. 

Marcy is wearing a hooded cape

uses long-ranged weapons

often mixed with explosives

which means she knows alchemy

and uses those skills to effortlessly infiltra-

...well, okay, not every roll has to be natural 20. Also, Sprig naturally assumes Marcy would be back-stabbing them.

The point is, Marcy represents the ideal of a Rogue.

What about Sasha?

Well, she wears heavy armor and wields a badass sword. That is a warrior. Yes, her intentions are not noble, (at least not as noble as we would like) but she jumps into fight when occasion arises. And in one of the previous episodes, we have seen her training constantly to enhance her prowess. Plus, she does want to join Grime to CONQUER Newtopia. So, Sasha is a Warrior.

“Now, hold on”, I hear you say in Hop Pop’s voice, “Anne was fighting too!”

And that is true. But let’s face it, swords ain’t her speciality. She is trained to fight with...

uh...

...well, honestly, whatever she has near her and is vaguely wield-able. Unfortunately, the parallels here are a bit weak for a Mage. Because Anne isn’t always the brightest and more than often acts without thinking.

But she does have magic

And she came with a magical artefact. And I don’t mean her phone. Or her backpack which is bigger on the insid-HOLY SMOKES, SHE HAS BAG OF HOLDING. HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT BEFORE 

Plus, if fans’ hypothesis are correct, the frog robot might be joining them

And I would totally count it as Anne’s summon. So, yeah, Anne is a Mage... Well, okay, Rincewind-level of mage, but still.

Also, before someone points a million flaws in this: I’m not really that much into RPGs, so feel free to point out said flaws. It’s just something that was rattling in my brain.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Cover You in Oil, pt 23

Word Count: 5127 Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @ghostssss, @rampant-salamander, @saysay125, @sistasarah-sallysaidso @shewhorunswithfandoms, @flirtswithdanger @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @anyakinamidala Author’s Note: Any errors in the Russian are solely my own shitty ability.

Sally processed through the hall toward the huge double doors, nearly frozen with fear and tension. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as nervous and anxiety-ridden as she did in that moment. Sasha must have sensed it, because he squeezed her hand to reassure her, and when she flicked her eyes in his direction, he winked.

“I’ve got you, kid,” he said. She swallowed and acknowledged him with a nearly imperceptible nod. As the grand doors of the hall swung open, Sally was overwhelmed by the cheering crowd waiting to see her. She took in the throngs of people, completely astonished by their numbers. She hadn’t thought that many people lived in Latveria. As she and Sasha stepped out, the crowd, on cue, surged forward, knocking over the barricades and swarming around them. The last thing Sally remembered seeing as she descended under the mass of bodies was Victor rising in the open-air carriage, a look of absolute rage and panic on his face.

She felt the crown pulled off, and the bracelets of state. Then the cloak. Soon, she was just in her coronation gown, a sea of hands pulling the symbols of office free from her body as they pushed her toward Sasha. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her toward a sewer storm grate that had been pulled open, pushing her ahead of him and through the dark opening. Steady hands grabbed her legs and guided her down into the inky black tunnel. Sasha slipped through behind her.

“No lights,” A masculine voice said.

“I can’t see shit,” Sally complained.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, but we would all prefer to stay anonymous.” The voice was sarcastic and Sally felt herself smile despite the irritation. She felt a hand at the base of her spine, and knew it was Sasha beside her.

“I’m gonna unzip the dress, Sally. The seamstress gave you a silk base layer, and then we have some winter clothes for you. I have to get changed too, but there’s someone here to help you,” he said.

“Thanks, Sasha,” she murmured.

“You should probably try to get used to calling me Bucky now,” he corrected. “We aren’t going back.” Sally felt his hand at the zipper, and the dress fell away from her easily. Before she could even try to adjust to the darkness, a sweater was thrust into her hands. She pulled it over her head and stepped out of the pool of dress at her feet.

“Lift your left leg,” the voice ordered. Sally did as she was bidden and felt the man take her boot off and slip a pant leg over her foot before pushing the boot onto her foot again. “Now your right.” She did the same, and again, boot off, pant leg on, boot replaced. He pulled the pants to her knees, and Sally brushed his hands away, pulling them the rest of the way.

“We have to get moving,” a second voice whispered.

“I’m ready,” Sally said, and allowed a strong grip to take her arm and lead her through the dark tunnels. Her eyes were slowly adjusting, and she was beginning to make out shadows, but nothing substantial. She recognized Bucky ahead of her, and knew there was at least one more person behind the man helping her. Bucky led them to a junction in the tunnel.

“Straight ahead will lead you to the baths, left will lead you to the edge of the city,” the man holding her arm said. “Mariya has a vehicle waiting. Be safe, godspeed.”

Bucky took her hand and pulled her down the left corridor, picking up his pace slightly. “As long as you can manage a quick pace, we’re going to haul ass, Sally.”

“I’ll manage,” she managed, through gritted teeth. Her leg was already throbbing, but she wasn’t about of acknowledge the pain she was having. Bucky sped up again, and Sally stumbled to keep up. He caught her easily and helped her along the tunnel, keeping their pace fast.

“We’re nearly there,” he assured her, as the follow the tunnel’s bends and curves. Finally, there was a faint light from a short candle, signaling where they needed to climb up. Bucky climbed up first, and checked the room before reaching down to help her climb through. They popped up in the backroom of Mariya’s bakery. Lying on the bench by the door was snowpants and coats, knit hats and gloves. They quickly dressed and Bucky cracked the door just a hair to assess the outside before opening it, and gesturing for Sally to get into the waiting vehicle. She climbed in first, and Bucky climbed in right behind her, pulling her down to the floorboards and throwing a blanket over her. Mariya looked back at them and offered a tense smile.

“You are ready?” She asked. Bucky nodded. “Then let’s go.” She pulled away from the bakery slowly, leaving the city by a narrow twisting road leading away from the mountains. Once they were beyond city limits, she turned down a barely used path. It had only been driven once or twice since the snow had fallen, and tracks were full of drifting snow. They slowed considerably as Mariya maneuvered the vehicle through the deep snow until they came to a small shack. She got out and trudged through the deep drifts until she got to the cabin and opened it up, checked it and then nodded back to Bucky.

“Let’s move, Sal,” he said, offering his hand so she could hop out of the vehicle. She followed in his footsteps to the cabin, overwhelmed by how slow going it was.

“This is going to take us forever,” she worried aloud. Bucky smiled in reassurance.

“We have a snow machine from here. This is Mariya’s family’s ancestral land, and no one, not even Victor, is supposed to trespass. With you missing, that will be moot, but Victor fears Mariya’s people, so hopefully this will stall him. Grab that pack. You’ll have to carry it while we head up the mountain, but once we’re on foot again, I’ll take it.” Bucky pointed at a backpack sitting on the floor. It matched their snow outfits. Everything looked like it had come from the military. Their snow gear was all off-white and non-reflective, like it was intended for snow maneuvers. Bucky led her to a dilapidated shed a short distance from the cabin, and climbed on the snowmachine inside. Sally noticed Mariya was hauling wood into the cabin and poked Bucky.

“What is she doing?”

“Creating her alibi,” Bucky answered as he revved the snowmachine’s engine. “She’s been up here for nearly a week already, hunting. The fire died down while she was in town, so she’s got to stoke it so it’s nicely banked before any of the Guard get here. She’s also got a nice deer hanging in the cold shed. Shot it last night, I guess.”

“How long has it been since we left the coronation?” She asked. Everything had happened so fast that her head was spinning.

“It was four minutes between the gutter to Mariya’s. Less than ten to the cabin.”

“I owe these people so much,” Sally breathed, unsure if Bucky would hear her.

“Sally,” he shook his head. “You’re their queen now. They’d do pretty much anything for you. That’s why we had to wait until after the coronation.”

“It’s been fourteen fucking minutes, Buck,” she exclaimed, staring at the back of his head in shock as they headed up the mountain. Bucky must have known where he was going because every time Sally looked back, the trees and snow looked the same, but the castle was smaller and smaller until she couldn’t make it out any more. Sally was unsure of the time that was passing, but there were storm clouds rolling across the sky, and the forest was growing dark.

“We’re nearly there,” Bucky called back to her, as they crested a ridge. Another small cabin came into view, with a plume of cheerful smoke rising from the chimney. Bucky pulled right into the storage shed and led Sally inside. “This is our last stop, and we hike from here. There’s no path for about four miles, and then there’s a well-beaten deer path. But until then, we’re on snowshoes. How is your leg holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Sally lied.

“You aren’t,” he countered. “Need something for pain?”

“No!” Sally shook her head. “I need a clear head for this. I will be fine, Bucky.”

“Then let’s get moving,” he said. “There’s an outhouse around the back. Make sure you go before we leave.”

Sally nodded, and met him back at the front of the cabin when she was done. He had his snowshoes on, and was just getting hers ready when a Servo-Guard dropped out of the sky into the snow in front of them.

“State your name.”

“Maxim Petrovich. This is my sister Anastasia Petrovna.” Bucky put the fake accent on again for the benefit of a robot.

“Identity cards?”

“They are in the cabin,” Bucky started. “I’ll just –“

“Database searched. Maxim Petrovich and Anastasia Petrovna, you will appear in lesser court in three days time to answer to the charges against you,” the Servo-Guard cut Bucky off.

“Charges?” Bucky looked confused.

“Absence from the coronation of the Empress. Dereliction of responsibility. Punishable by two weeks servitude to the Emperor.”

“Three days, at the lesser courts?”

“Affirmative.”

“We will be there to acknowledge our crimes,” Bucky acquiesced. The Servo-Guard shot back into the sky without another word. Sally let out her breath in a rush and stared at Bucky. “That was close.”

“That was ridiculous,” Sally agreed. “Let’s go before it realizes it should have double checked us.”

Bucky helped her into the snowshoes and gave her a quick lesson on how to use them before taking the backpack and tossing it on his back. He led her up the mountain, away from the cabin. Sally could feel exhaustion kicking in and as she forced her legs up the mountain, she cursed herself for not doing more hill training while she’d had the chance. They plodded along in silence until the deer trail. It was a beaten down, narrow track twisting up the mountain. In the distance, below them, Sally could see the ski hill where she’d had her accident. They had come a long distance already.

“At the risk of infuriating you, how much further is it?” Sally asked.

“How are you doing?” Bucky countered.

“I’m hungry. And tired,” she admitted. He flipped the backpack in front of him and pulled out a strip of something to hand to her.

“It’s jerky. Eat it, we can take five. We’ve got another three to four hours of hiking ahead of us before we pop over into Hungary,” he said. “Some of it is downhill.”

Sally discovered that Bucky mostly was lying when he said some of it was downhill. It was mostly creeping higher and higher into the mountains with the occasional few steps down an embankment. Her leg had been aching at the coronation hall, and by the time another hour had passed, it was on fire, and she was fighting to contain tears. Bucky was leading, so didn’t see the anguish on her face until she stumbled into him. He turned and caught her before she went face first into the snow, and helped her to sit on a fallen tree.

“You should have said something,” he admonished her.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew we were across the border.” Sally gritted her teeth and tried to push herself back to standing, but her leg gave out. “I didn’t actually believe until this moment that my leg had been broken.”

“I still don’t believe it has. I think all your pain is related to that soulmark,” Bucky shook his head. “Come on, I’ll carry you for a while. Climb on my back.” He slid the backpack off his back and handed it to her

“You are not piggybacking me up a mountain, Bucky.”

“You know they used nearly the same serum on me as Erskine used on Steve, right? Climb up,” he turned his back to her and squatted. Sally slung the backpack over her shoulders, and with a great deal of hesitance, wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck and allowed him to pull her up on his back

“I feel ridiculous,” Sally complained.

“I won’t be as fast this way. If the weather changes, or we’re spotted, you’re going to have to push through the pain and hike,” Bucky said. Sally nodded against his back and kept lookout for the next hour.

The trees got more and more densely packed together the further they climbed, and Sally finally understood why this route wasn’t a concern to Victor. Who would want to climb through a maze of trees, scraping against needles and branches, just to get into Latveria? It hardly seemed worth it. She also understood where all the stories about werewolves and vampires came from, as the shadows playing across the trees made her skin crawl. Coupled with the occasional howl from a wolf, she was feeling a little spooked. Bucky suddenly laughed.

“What is so funny?” Sally snapped. Her pain was easing, but her temper was worn.

“I was in Latveria for close to a year,” Bucky started. “Never once did Victor ask me about my name.”

“I thought Alexandr was a common name?” Sally asked.

“Sure, it was. But don’t you think it should have sent up a warning flag that my last name literally translated as son of the vampire?” Bucky asked. Sally snorted.

“Really?”

“Yeah, in Russian. I didn’t know a lot of Latverian when I crossed the border. Enough that I could get by, but Latverian is kind of a patois or pidgin of Romanian, Hungarian and Russian, with a little Romany tossed in to make it interesting. I had crossed into the country from here, in the Carpathians, and thought it was a funny name. Mariya always said it would be the name that got me caught,” Bucky explained. Sally chuckled softly.

“You’ll miss her,” she commented.

“I probably will. Mariya’s a good woman,” Bucky nodded.

“Will she be caught? Punished?” Sally asked.

“Hopefully not, but she knew what she was doing,” Bucky shrugged, the action bouncing her on his back a little. “She wasn’t doing you any real favours, Sally. She didn’t really care what your outcome was, provided Victor suffered. You were just a catalyzing agent for her revolution.”

“I owe her a debt,” Sally was firm about it. Bucky shook his head.

“You really don’t. You gave her exactly what she was looking for. Instability it the house of Doom. She wants to topple his regime,” Bucky explained.

“And then what?”

“I didn’t ask,” he admitted. Then he laughed again. “I mean, I guess the reality is that the throne passes to you. It would be up to you what happens in Latveria at that point.”

“What?” She squawked. “I’ve run away. I can’t think of a clearer sign of abdication!”

“Until we can get you home and sorted, you are very much still the queen,” Bucky laughed. Their conversation had distracted both of them, and night had fallen around them, chilling the air and silencing the forest. Bucky paused, holding a finger to his lips to silence her questions. Sally’s curiosity about what had stopped him was sated when he threw her to the snowy ground and dropped on top of her, right as a bullet whizzed by their heads.

“What –“ Sally breathed. Bucky slapped his hand across her mouth.

“I think it’s a motion sensing defensive weapon. We’re only about half a click from the border now, and part of the function of the Servo-Guards is border protection. It would stand to reason that Victor had placed some up here. I hope we haven’t triggered a wake protocol,” he interrupted, hissing the words against her ear.

“If it’s motion sensing, how are we going to go that last half kilometer?” Sally breathed, careful to not put her voice behind the words.

“We’re going to have to run, in an erratic pattern,” Bucky replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sally started thinking about what it would be like to die on the top of the Carpathians.

“You can do this, Sal. You go first. The goal is the peak up ahead. Once we crest it, the Servo-Guard will shut down, and we’ll be safe. It won’t know to try to identify us, it will only know that we’re too close to the border,” Bucky explained.

“Are you sure?” Sally asked.

“I hacked a great deal of Victor’s files,” he nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, my queen.”

“Oh, fuck off, Bucky.” Sally shoved his shoulder, and he rolled off her, a ridiculous smirk on his face. Sally shook her head. Even in the face of danger. Or maybe because of it, he was laughing. It was no wonder he was a legend. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself into a crouch slowly, trying to track where the robot had gone. Bucky tapped her shoulder and pointed to the right, down the hill. Once Sally saw it, she nodded, and got her good leg placed so she would get strength and speed from pushing away. It was going to be hard going through the snow, but it was no longer deep snow due to how close the trees were. Between the trees and the snow though, Sally was sure her path would be erratic. But it was also going to be dangerous.

She took a deep breath and pushed away from the ground, focusing on keeping her eyes on the crest of the hill and weaving in and out of the trees. She could hear something or someone behind her and just kept running, not wanting to know if it was Bucky or the Servo-Guard. She felt a burning pain in her good leg and nearly toppled, crying out, but forced herself to keep going. She glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t see Bucky but could see the Servo-Guard gaining on her. Sally’s heart was hammering in her chest as she forced herself to run, fully exerting herself. Her lungs were on fire. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm and tug her ahead and looked up into Bucky’s concerned blue eyes.

“Focus on running. Don’t think about the pain,” he yelled, hauling her along. As they neared the crest, two shadows emerged and Sally sagged. They were caught. Something whizzed past her head, and a strange metallic pop sounded behind her. She glanced back and saw the first Servo-Guard tipping backward, an arrow embedded in its chest. Her head shot back to the top of the mountain, and she could barely make out the silhouette of a bow.

“Clint?” She called.

“Move your ass, Sally!” He hollered, nocking another arrow. “There’s about a dozen closing in fast!”

Muzzle flash to the left of Clint made her narrow her eyes as she continued to push herself forward, half limping, half being dragged by Bucky.

“I just took out two, Clint,” a feminine voice laughed. Natasha. Sally dug deep and pushed herself forward. She was nearing collapse, and there was another biting sting, this time on bum, just above her thigh.

“Just a few hundred feet more, Sally, come on!” Bucky encouraged her. “We’ve got cover now, you can slow down if you need to.”

“Now this, Nat? This is like Budapest!” Clint laughed, releasing another arrow into the darkness.

“You’re right, we do remember Budapest very differently!” Natasha called back, firing her weapon again. Sally collapsed, finally too exhausted to go on. She could barely catch her breath, and everything hurt. Bucky scooped her up, slung her over his shoulder and kept moving, until finally they hit to top of the hill, and he started running down the other side.

“Why are you still running?” Sally asked, watching as Natasha and Clint started to retreat, eyes still on Latveria.

“Those Servo-Guards seem pretty fucking determined for a motion detection protocol. They know it’s us!” Bucky speculated, continuing. “These ones have probably identified us, and they will cross the border. Any reinforcements will stop until they can positively ID us, and then they’ll come across too.”

Natasha and Clint picked off the last three robots, one by one. They turned and started to run, trailing just a little behind Sally and Bucky. Bucky led them down the mountainside, weaving into a dense copse of trees to lose the sighting ability of the Servo-Guards. After he’d led the group of them for about ten minutes, he finally slowed down, carefully dropping Sally on the snowy ground. Sally flinched and tried to push herself back up.

“Let me see the wounds, Sally,” Bucky demanded.

“What wounds?” She asked.

“You were shot. At least twice. I need to get the bullets out.” Bucky pulled the backpack off her and pulled out a field medic’s kit. Sally eased herself over so Bucky could look at her thighs. He poked at the painful spot on her thigh and on her bum, causing Sally to shriek and try to get away.

“I’m sorry, Sally. I gotta get these out,” Bucky apologized. “They could have trackers in them.” He drew up a syringe of something and jabbed her in the thigh. Soon, the pain in the area was gone. Natasha and Clint caught up as Bucky was cutting away the fabric around the wound in her thigh.

“Shot in the ass. Totally Budapest,” Natasha nodded at Clint.

“Shot in the thigh. More like Rio,” he countered, flopping into the snow beside Sally. “Other than the lead in your ass, how are things?”

“That’s one hell of an opening line,” Sally laughed weakly. “Strangely, my ass hurts. Thanks for coming you guys.” Sally looked up at Natasha, who was staring at Bucky.

“Вы? Ты Саша?” Natasha was pale, like she was shocked. Sally doubted that happened often.

“Не сейчас, маленький паук,” Bucky warned, not looking up from Sally’s thigh.

“Хуй тебе!” Natasha rolled back on her heels and looked like she was about to light into him.

“Не сейчас, Наталья!” Bucky snapped, holding a bloody hand up. “I’m trying to patch up our friend.”

“Our friend?” Natasha retorted. “Do you even have friends?”

“I have at least two.”

“Sally, are you sure –“

“I know exactly who Bucky is, Natasha. He told me everything,” Sally groaned from the forest floor.

“Even that he shot me?”

“Why would he need to tell me that to help me escape?” Sally asked. “He told me he was a weapon. He’s not a weapon anymore.”

“Another shot, Sal,” Bucky interrupted as he stuck the needle into her again. Natasha fell silent and glared at Clint like she was trying to tell him something.

“Wait, dude there is the Winter Soldier?” Clint asked, suddenly cluing in. His bow came back up, trained on Bucky. Bucky sighed. Sally flinched, causing him to back off the stitches and look at her.

“Clint, do you trust me?” She asked him.

“Well, I don’t know about trust, but you did a damn fine job on my car,” he hedged. Bucky realized the flinching wasn’t his first aid and got back to his field medic work.

“Would you trust another vehicle in my care?” She pressed.

“In a heartbeat, kid,” he nodded.

“And are we friends?” She asked.

“Our bromance will go down in history as the most bromantic of bromances,” Clint smirked.

“I’m going to assume a certain level of trust then, Clint,” Sally started. “The only reason I am here is Bucky. Not even a word of a lie. If it hadn’t been for him, Tony would be risking another Sokovia to rescue me. He’s not who he was.”

Clint relaxed his draw and quivered his arrow. Natasha shook her head and squatted beside Bucky, watching him patch Sally up. “Do you want me to call in Tony now?”

“While my ass is in the air and another man’s hands are all over it? I don’t think that’s a great plan, do you?” Sally winked. Natasha laughed.

“It’s good to see your humour is intact,” she smiled. “But I’m going to have to notify the team that we’ve got you. And Tony isn’t going to wait once I do.” She turned away and held her hand to her ear, speaking quietly as Bucky finished dressing Sally’s wound. Sally pushed herself onto her back and sat up, flinching at the pinching pain where the freezing was starting to wear off. She hugged Bucky, impulsively, and she felt him stiffen. Pushing him away, she took her time assessing him, and saw that he’d also taken at least one bullet in the upper thigh.

“Bucky! Why didn’t you say something?” Sally accused. Natasha turned back to face them, and Sally gestured at the blood dripping down Bucky’s leg. “I don’t know how to fix that.”

“I can,” Natasha offered. She made quick work of cutting back Bucky’s pants and assessing the wound. “This is already healing.”

“I’ve had the serum,” Bucky admitted.

“The serum?” Clint asked.

“The KGB worked with Hydra to replicate the super soldier serum. It was rumoured that the Winter Soldier was the result of that, but there were never any records that could support that,” Natasha explained. Bucky nodded.

“How’s your pain tolerance then?” She asked. “Because I’m gonna have to dig this out.”

“Do what you have to do, маленький паук,” Bucky nodded. Natasha pressed her lips together in a tight line and used her boot knife to cut into his skin, lodging the blade just below the bullet and popping it out. Bucky cursed under his breath. Sally closed her eyes and looked away, a wave of nausea threatening to make her sick.

“Clint, pass me some gauze?” Natasha asked, and pressed the gauze against the wound. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the pain.”

“It’ll pass,” Bucky shrugged. “Let’s get moving.” He pushed himself to his feet and offered Sally a hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, and they continued down the mountain, slower than they’d been. Bucky wasn’t impeded at all by his injuries, but Sally’s bullet wounds, coupled with the freezing and the existing issue with her leg, was hobbling, and it was slowing everyone down. The adrenaline was finally starting to wear off, and Sally was spent. She was not some specially powered human. It was not her job to participate in covert operations. And her body was making it clear that it was angry with her. She had no energy left.

“How are you doing, Sally?” Clint asked. She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

“I can’t do this,” she managed, dragging in a deep breath.

“You’ve done it. We just need to get you home,” Clint argued.

“I’m tired, Clint. I’m freezing cold. There’s a pain in my ass like a bee stung me, but apparently it’s a bullet wound. And my leg really hurts. I can’t do this,” she cried. Clint pulled her into his arms.

“And I’m telling you right now, this is the easy part. You already completed the hard part. Come on. I’ll help you,” Clint rubbed her back as he spoke. “Nat, take the rear. I’m gonna help Sally down this fucking mountain.”

“I can carry her,” Bucky offered. “I did earlier.”

“I got this one,” Clint shook his head. He collapsed his bow with a flick of his wrist, and snapped it onto his quiver before scooping Sally up into his arms. “Dry those tears, Sally. We’ve got you.” Bucky stepped through the snow to them, and tucked Sally’s hair back under her cap.

“I’ve got something you should probably have,” Bucky said, reaching into his coat. He pulled off Sally’s glove, and reached into his pocket to pull out her engagement ring. “Safe and sound. Just like you.” He then handed her her phone. “It’s time for you to call your man, and let him know you are safe. Natasha has already informed the team, but he really needs to hear it from you.”

“How did you –“

“Because if you were my girl, I’d need to hear it,” Bucky said. “Call him.”

Sally looked at the phone in her hand, suddenly nervous, worried and conflicted. More than anything, she wanted to hear Tony’s voice. But not over the phone. She wanted to hear it because he was standing in front of her, taking her from Clint’s arms into his own.

“Do you want me to tell him to come, Sally?” Natasha read her mind. Sally nodded and laid her head against Clint’s chest as they continued down the mountain. Natasha stepped away and spoke quietly, her back turned. She caught up a few minutes later, walking backward down the hill beside them, her eyes on the trees behind them. “They’re on their way.”

Sally nodded and leaned into Clint. “How long?” Clint asked.

“They’re climbing up. Tony said he doesn’t want to put the suit on unless he has to.”

Bucky continued to lead them down the mountain, the night getting colder and darker. Sally tried to concentrate on anything other than the pain shooting through her leg, watching the trees pass, eventually looking up to watch the stars, silent the whole time. She could feel pressure lifting from her chest as they made their way out of the higher altitude, and slowly, she also could feel herself beginning to relax, the tension leaving her muscles, secure in the knowledge she was with friends and Tony was on her way to her.

Finally, a light flashed through the trees below them, and Sally’s heart started thumping wildly.

“Put me down,” she demanded. Clint wasn’t expecting her to speak, and didn’t hear her. “Clint! Put me down.” He eased her to her feet and Sally started slowly, painfully walking toward the telltale flicker of the flashlight, the other three staying close by. The light flashed across her quickly, and then flashed back and stayed, causing her to raise her hand to block the blinding brightness. And then the light was gone, and the noise crashing through the woods was overwhelming. And Sally was enveloped in a suffocatingly tight embrace.

“I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would die without you.” His words tore into her. “You’re finally safe.”

The burning pain that had been confined to her leg since the accident tore through her entire body, burning her from the inside out, and she collapsed, limp, in Tony’s arms.

[wwewriteclub]

10.18 Smackdown

Smackdown is in an interesting place right now with a lot of new faces and a probably mostly absentee champion in Brock Lesnar. Their Women’s Division currently consist of Sasha Banks and Bayley as the top heels but Raw had an interesting turn of events with Lacey Evans seemingly doing a face turn by teaming with Natalya. Carmella is the only Superstar from Smackdown! who has remained from the original split since 2016 now that Orton has been moved to Raw. Pushing her as a top babyface on the women’s side of the blue brand and possibly an uneasy alliance with Lacey Evans could make for some fun interactions of Lacey trying to “class up” Carmella and Carmella attempting to get Lacey to “loosen up”. Who wouldn’t want to see an uptight Southern belle slowly get comfortable with doing the robot or some goofy dance? That’s your next odd couple, your SD! answer to Bliss/Cross, and could really do some fun stuff together and it’ll hide Lacey’s in-ring flaws while also creating a new contender for the women’s tag team titles. This SD! really needs to feel like the reboot that we haven’t gotten the past two weeks and should also just really fly over the Crown Jewel stuff.

With the front end done, here’s how I would write the 10.18 Smackdown on FOX.

Opening video - revamped with all SD talent Pyro 

IN-RING Miz TV set-up MIZ PROMO Welcome to the most must-see show NOW on FOX- Miz TV. My guest at this time is captaining a team to face off with Ric Flair and his team at WWE Crown Jewel on October 31st. Ladies and gentlemen, the Immortal HULK HOGAN! HULK HOGAN ENTRANCE MIZ Now Hulk, apparently you received some bad news over the past couple of days. HOGAN PROMO That’s right, Miz. Due to having to face The Fiend for the Universal title at Crown Jewel in a Falls Count Anywhere Match, Seth Rollins can no longer lead my team. Therefore, I’m here to name a new team captain. MIZ Oh! Well news of this magnitude needs a big reveal. It’s gotta be someone huge! Someone who puts the star in superstar! An A-Lister... Let’s get a drumroll please! DRUMROLL SFX *Subtle action of Miz adjusting his jacket, assuming he’s going to get picked.* HOGAN PROMO The Big Dog! Roman Reigns! ROMAN REIGNS ENTRANCE *Miz in BG looks deflated/jealous* ROMAN PROMO Hulk, it would be an honor and a privilege to captain the team at Crown Jewel. As much respect as I have for Ric Flair, teaming with The Hulkster- KING CORBIN INTERRUPTS CORBIN PROMO *Corbin walks down to the ring* Whoa, whoa, whoa; nobody gives a damn about who is on Team Hogan. The real news is that your benevolent king is now on Smackdown! I’ve already got a few rules that I plan to implement. First, I want all of you PEASANTS to get the hell out of MY ring. *Corbin begins to enter the ring* Secondly- PHYSICAL, ROMAN PUNCHES CORBIN.  In the ensuing brawl, Miz gets hit by Roman. Roman turns around to check on Miz and Corbin hits Roman with scepter and escapes.

RECAP, announced for tonight- ROMAN REIGNS vs KING CORBIN

MATCH 1 The New Day vs The Lucha House Party New Day wins. Go for handshake after. Kalisto is a little frustrated and reluctant but eventually does it. 

BACKSTAGE INTERVIEW Kayla Braxton w/Cesaro KAYLA Cesaro, you were officially drafted to Smackdown as a supplemental free agent. How do you plan to make an impact now that you’re here and what can we expect from you going into Crown Jewel with your match against Mansoor? CESARO Kayla, I am tired of being overlooked. I am pound for pound one of the strongest, toughest, and best athletes in all of WWE. I am a multi time tag team and US Champion. I have been in this business for almost 20 years and for every accolade and accomplishment, I still am an afterthought to these people. That won’t happen any longer. Tonight is a new beginning for Cesaro. Whoever is across that ring from me isn’t just an adversary but a wall. A wall I won’t just climb but run through. And at Crown Jewel, I will show Mansoor and the entire WWE Universe why Cesaro should be at the top of every list and the wild card every WWE Superstar should fear.

IN-RING Heath Slater MATCH 2 Heath Slater vs Cesaro Cesaro wins

BAYLEY ENTRANCE BAYLEY PROMO For too long I was a goofy joke to all of you. The hugs and the inflatable tube men it got me nowhere. You all mocked me. I saw your tweets, I heard everything you had to say- but who’s laughing now? I am the Smackdown! Women’s Champion. I will prove time and time again that I am the best. That I deserve the best. And that I don’t need any of you to do so. So I want somebody to step up to the challenge and try and face THE Champion. LACEY EVANS ENTRANCE LACEY PROMO Oh honey, you think that coming out here and whining and complaining is what makes you a champion? I have never seen something so unclassy in all my years. But if you’re looking for a challenge, then I think it’s only right that I take you on so I can knock you out. BAYLEY ACCEPTS MATCH 3 Bayley vs Lacey Evans Lacey Evans wins by DQ when a frustrated Bayley begins to attack her with a chair. CARMELLA runs in and makes the save. Carmella stands tall, Bayley escapes, Lacey looks confused and powders out. Carmella music out.

MATCH 4 Drew Gulak vs Shorty Gable PIP GULAK PROMO DURING ENTRANCE My name is Drew Gulak, I am a submission specialist and I’m putting the entire Smackdown lockerroom on notice. You tap out or you pass out.  Gulak wins via submission

BRAUN STROWMAN ENTRANCE STROWMAN PROMO I’m fighting Tyson Fury at Crown Jewel. He’s knocked a lot of guys out but he’s never faced a monster like me. If Tyson Fury wants to step up to me, he’s gonna get these hands! But now I want a little warm up so if anybody in the back wants a piece, you come out here and face me now.  DRAKE MAVERICK ENTRANCE *Drake hesitantly walks out with mic in hand* DRAKE PROMO Braun. Braun. I understand you aren’t in the best mood. You have a lot going on with Crown Jewel around the corner and having to worry about an undefeated boxer like Tyson Fury knocking you out. *Braun face reacts re- “what did you just say?* DRAKE PROMO CONTINUED But Braun, you don’t have to worry about Tyson Fury. I’m sure he’ll take you out fairly quickly. But what you do need to worry about is- DOLPH ZIGGLER AND ROBERT ROODE ATTACK STROWMAN FROM BEHIND. STROWMAN TRIES TO FIGHT BACK. HEAVY MACHINERY MAKES THE SAVE. MATCH 5 Heavy Machinery and Braun Strowman vs Robert Roode, Dolph Ziggler, and Drake Maverick Braun gets his hands on Drake for the finish and pins him. Strowman/Heavy Machinery win

MATCH 6 Roman Reigns w/Hulk Hogan vs King Corbin Roman Reigns wins. Sign off.

[dwtspd]

DWTS S24 W7: Movie genres night!

Sorry for the late review. I didn’t have the time to watch the show earlier this week.

It’s movie genres night, which is a fresh twist on the occasional movies night. It feels like forever since we have had a proper opening with dancing. Also it’s kind of part of ABC/Disney’s advertising plan for Descendants 2. I liked the first installation of Descendants but I didn’t think it was big enough to promote on DWTS. It doesn’t really cater to the main demographic. Also, I thought Disney week would have been a more apt theme to promote the movie on (speaking of, when will we have couples dance to Descendants songs for Disney week?) Then again, they did promote Teen Beach 2 a few seasons back, and that movie was a total flop so...yay Descendants!

We also had the immunity challenge, which makes eliminations harder to make sense of because it grants immunity for an elimination based on the previous week’s scores but gives you extra points that count towards next week’s elimination (which is based on this week’s scores.) Kinda loopy.

lastly, Mandy Moore sits in for Julianne who is still on the Move tour. I’m pretty bipolar about her work - I like some and think some are absolutely boring or overrated. I also associate her more with SYTYCD (whoops. Where’s Ruby Castro to mix up shows for me?) I thought she [insert opinion].

Bonner and Sharna Western Paso Doble Len says this dance was “made for Bonner” and Bonner himself seemed pretty excited. I disagree though. Paso requires a lot of intensity in the movement that Bonner still is not comfortable bringing to the table. I think his best moment was when he was dancing with the two Britt/any troop members. The actual dancing also took really long to start. I also disagree with CAI - Bonner isn’t graceful helLO. The moves also felt very disjointed between the complicated staging and side characters. 7-7-8-7 T29

Nancy and Artem Romantic Tango It’s nice seeing Nancy have a good-going week this time. Nancy looked great in that red dress. Artem choreographed a very good dance full of content. I thought the song was a tad too fast and Nancy could have been a bit sharper in some moves. But she had very nice lines, very pretty. 9-9-9-9 T36 Artem is really happy.

Simone and Sasha Silent Film Charleston This dane was so cute! It suited Simone and Sasha really nicely. Loved how Sasha managed to incorporate so many tricks while not loosing sight of the charleston style. The backdrop projection was a great touch. Same with Len - should have more swivel. I don’t see what’s wrong with being on “autopilot” - like Simone said, at this point, they’ve rehearsed so many times that the dance would be muscle memory (or “natural” as Simone puts it). I’m sure that’s what it’s like when she performs her gymnastics routines at the Olympics. I think Mandy was trying to say that Simone needs to connect more with her partner/the audience/reality but kinda misphrased it. 10-9-9-9 T37 I thought they deserve at least one more ten.

And now for a very evil interruption to promote Descendants 2. I’m not a fan of Mal’s (Dove Cameron) new wig, and her dancing was kinda tame next to the other three leads. Sofia Carson (Evie - girl in blue) stood out in particular, but sounded autotuned in the soundtrack. Also it was pretty obvious that the music was pre-recorded and everyone was lipsyncing. The new song sounds great, and I loved that they threw in the techno section from Rotten to the Core with the original choreography.  Cameron Boyce (Carlos - guy without the slouchie hat) looks particularly good with the longer hair.

Descendants and Descendants 2 are both directed by Kenny Ortega who should totally guest judge DWTS again some day.

Now back to the show.

Nick and Peta Action/Spy Argentine Tango Nick plays a spy tasked with impersonating Maks. No not really. I think Nick’s posture was wonky at times but as Len said his confidence was also there. i feel like the mistakes kinda took away from the aura he was trying to bring as a spy. The costume also didn’t help - it looked like he was a random dude helping Peta the spy. 8-8-9-9 T34 i think those 9s were too much. Mandy and Bruno shouldn’t be giving nick the same score as Simone.

Rashad and Emma Horror Paso Doble So Rashad is a ghost who was a serial killer who danced with the dead bodies of his victims. Sounds like something you hear on a ghost-hunting movie. The CGI lightning was soooo fake. At  the beginning I noticed Rashad’s footsteps were kinda heavy and I’m not sure if that was part of his zombie-like character. It got better as the dance went on. Overall this dance was fantastic though! 9-9-10-9 T37

At this point, Erin pointed out that Rashad and Simone were tied in contention for immunity and Emma, playing along, asked “what happens now?” That Erin said “We’ll see what happens when someone gets a perfect score” seems a bit suspect. Like the producers already planned in advance that someone must get a perfect score. Just putting that out there.

David and Lindsay Sci-fi Salsa That’s actually not as big a tongue twister as you think. “Sci-fi salsa”. Hilarious package. I liked the song. Need to check it out. Not a lot of hip action disguised by the robotic movements. Lots of salsa. A small hip hop section at the end. 8-8-8-8 T32

One of the troupe guys looks like Tom Felton on The Flash.

Normani and Val foreign film Argentine Tango Normani hurt her back this week - presumably from trying to learn tricks for the AT. But I think it might be a thing from travelling - you don’t get to sit and sleep in very healthy positions all the time so it could have already put stress on her joints that got worsened by the rehearsals for the AT. This was the first dance from Normani in a while that I felt was actually as good as the judges said it was. Normani’s feet - particularly her toes - were not pointed. But that kinda applies to everyone. I feel like they didn’t really capture the idea of “foreign films” apart from the fact that their song was a foreign language cover of “Perhaps perhaps perhaps”. Like, I dunno, even western films are dramatic. TPTB could have given them something more distinct. 10-10-10-10 T40 predictable, but I can live with this one.

I always like the sort of “trailer” they make for the dance-off. LOL at Nick’s “I like Laurie Hernandez better”.

I’ve listed the dance off pairs as [celeb who picked opponent] vs [celeb who picked style]. Except for the last pair because they don’t get to pick anything.

Simone vs Nancy Chacha Just as well, because neither ladies have done jive or rumba (if I remember correctly). The camera work was a total mess during this dance-off. They cut away from Simone too late after it was her and Sasha’s turn to dance alone, then cut back to Sasha counting time before Nancy’s part ended. I think they should go back to the format where one couple dances first then the next couple goes. Also makes it easier for viewers to see both couples’ full dances. Plus, it gives couples space to use the whole dance floor so the dancing doesn’t feel so on -the-spot. I thought Nancy looked more at ease in the style but had simpler steps, while Simone was did some harder steps but looked a bit stiff and jerky here and there. I like both couples but I would personally give this to Nancy. Simone x4 form judges, Simone wins America’s vote 63%

Rashad vs David Jive “Rashad who do you want to dance against?” “Err, nobody.” hahaha. Anyway, has Rashad done ANY of the dance-off styles? Nevertheless, it was obvious he was going to win. His dance was full of content while David started his section alone with Lindsay off time and had more “filler” moments. Is it a coincidence that they both ended with the same pose? Also, I went “awww” when Sasha and Emma kissed then chortled really loudly when David went in for one too. Rashad x4 from judges, Rashad wins America’s vote 54%

Bonner vs Nick Rumba Bonner caught my eye at the beginning - not sure if it’s the camera angle, but I saw Bonner doing more while Peta was just kinda dancing around Nick. However, I feel like Nick had more fluidity. I saw really great hip action towards the end. Bonner had more memorable choreo and a trick that started out well but he lost balance and stumbled very obviously. I would have given this to Nick. Bonner x3 from CAI, Len and Mandy, Nick x1 from Bruno. Bonner wins America’s vote by 62%.

Normani’s already safe. also safe are Simone, Rashad and...Bonner. Last person safe is David, so Nancy and Nick are eliminated. I’m sad to see Nancy go. Not entirely shocked. More surprising is that Bonner survived. He must be getting lots of votes. He won America’s vote by a pretty big margin against a Bachelor contestant. Granted not the most popular Bachelor, but Bachelor contestants have been known for staying on the show past their due date thanks to a rabid built-in fan base. Plus, Sharna is really popular. This means Bonner and Sharna could shockingly knock someone out of the top four or three.

Note that next week’s elimination includes scores won from the dance off:

Normani - 43 Simone/Rashad - 40 David - 32 Bonner - 32

I might do some data analysis and share the results here soon.

ETA: I did some calculations and it looks like Bonner might not pull off a shocker next week as I first thought.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Cover You in Oil, pt19

Word Count: 6455 Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @ghostssss, @rampant-salamander, @saysay125, @sistasarah-sallysaidso @shewhorunswithfandoms, @flirtswithdanger @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns 

“That’s not fucking funny,” Sally hissed. Sasha dipped his head, closing his eyes. He sighed heavily and looked back up at her, his blue eyes resigned to the reality of the revelation he’d made.

“Outside,” Sasha tilted his head and led her toward the door. She pulled her coat on and tromped out into the snow behind him. Her eyes were narrowed and her gaze was fixed on the back of his head. He turned to face her once they were about twenty feet from the garage. “It wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

“Dude,” Sally started, and sighed. “Pops couldn’t have trained you without us having met at some point. I spent half my childhood and teen years on the farm.”

“He trained me before that,” Sasha sighed. Sally squinted in confusion.

“There’s no way you’re that much older than me. I would have –“

“Jakey Manners served with the 107th. He was taken as a prisoner of war at Azzano, and subsequently freed by Steve Rogers. Shortly after that, the Howling Commandos were formed, and Jakey stuck around as their mechanic, primarily working miracles on the Jeep they kept blowing up on missions,” Sasha offered.

“That’s all public record. You could have learned that at the Smithsonian exhibit,” Sally shrugged. “I mean, except no one ever called him Jakey. Except for –“ she trailed off, eyes widening.

“James Buchanan Barnes, ma’am,” Sasha snapped his heels together and gave her a jaunty salute. “At your service.”

“Bucky?” Sally gaped. “Holy shit, does Steve know you’re alive? Here?”

“He knows I’m alive,” Sasha nodded. “But not where I am. And I’d appreciate you not informing him. The last thing you need is Team Avengers pouring across the border.”

“So I am in danger,” Sally acknowledged.

“Victor isn’t exactly the most stable guy. I’ve been trying to figure out what he’s got going on here for a while. I was planning on using it as a bargaining chip,” Sasha explained.

“A bargaining chip?” Sally echoed.

“I don’t exactly have a simple history,” Sasha explained. “I didn’t end up frozen in the arctic for seventy years. It’s a long story but essentially, I’ve been a weapon.”

Sally stared at him, taking in the fantastic reality Sasha was presenting. If she hadn’t met Steve in person, if she hadn’t had the connection because of Pops, she never would have believed the tale unfolding before her. She tilted her head, taking in the contours of Sasha’s face, and shaking her head as the neurons in her brain finally connected Sasha’s face with that of Bucky Barnes’ photo in the Smithsonian, a photo that her Pops had donated to the exhibit, and she’d grown up staring at as he’d told her the amazing exploits of his team.

“I’m not going to call you Bucky,” Sally commented. Sasha smirked.

“I’d prefer you didn’t. At least, not until we’re out of here,” he nodded.

“I won’t tell Steve about you, but I will be asking him about the car and the power cells,” she countered.

“That’s fair,” he agreed.

“Does Mariya know you’re a senior citizen?” Sally smirked.

“Five minutes and already with the old man jokes?” Sasha threw up his hands in surrender, and led her back inside. She hung her coat up again and returned to the alternator, determined to repair the housing before she had to wrap up for the afternoon. It took a little ingenuity, but she managed to patch the narrow scratch with a soldering iron and a little bit of sanding. She was just finishing putting together the alternator when Sasha’s alarm sounded, warning her it was time to clean up for the afternoon.

“So tomorrow, we’ll finish assembling the engine and see if we can’t get it to turn over. I’ll see about talking to Steve tonight about those power cells,” Sally commented as they walked back to the castle. She showered and dressed for the meal, and headed down to the dining room, only to discover Victor had been detained again by something. It was probably better that he wasn’t there, she reflected, realizing the bombshell of Bucky Barnes had made her shoulders tense. It would be easier to sleep on the revelation, and try to maintain her poker face the next morning.

She folded her napkin and dropped it beside her plate before excusing herself to the serving staff.

“Can we video chat on this satellite network?” Sally typed.

“Private chat time? Let me change into something more comfortable!” Tony’s response was quick, but Sally had grown used to the idea that he stopped whatever he was up to in order to talk to her.

“Not so fast, loverboy. I need to talk to Steve. Securely.”

“It’s your lucky day. He’s right beside me. We’re working on his motorcycle.” The StarkPad in her lap started to chime and she flipped it open. Steve’s face took up the entire screen, concern etched into his eyebrows.

“Tony said you’ve been having issues with the car, is there something you think I can help with?” Steve asked. Sally smiled and nodded. Of course Steve would have it figured out. The guy was a stunning tactician.

“Yeah,” she breathed. She held up the hood ornament in front of the camera and watched Steve’s eyes widen in response.

“Where did you get that?” He asked.

“We found it tucked away in a storage cupboard today. I should have realized sooner, Steve. This is Schmidt’s car,” Sally explained.

“That thing was powerful,” Steve nodded. “I should have probably realized too, when Tony told me it was 16 cylinders and too big to photograph.”

“So I was repairing the alternator today, and Sasha was digging around looking for the batteries, and we both came across the same thing at the same time,” Sally started. “There’s a weird power source for the alternator, and the batteries have it as well. It’s a weird glowing blue. I’m forwarding pictures right now. Do you know anything about that?” She chose her words carefully, knowing to give away too much she might also give up Sasha, and she’d promised not to give Steve any indication of his real identity. Steve’s eyes flicked away from the camera and she watched his face as he examined the pictures. His eyes flashed a bit wide and then narrowed before he looked back up.

“That’s Tesseract power. Schmidt used it in his weapons, and in the engines on the Valkyrie.” Steve’s words were short. “That’s very dangerous tech, Sally. Does your client know what he has?”

“Neither Sasha nor I think he realizes what it is,” Sally started, “I, I mean, we, we didn’t know what it was either. But Tony had said I should track down someone who knew history and once I saw that Hydra symbol, I thought you might be the right person.”

“Is there any way for you to switch out those cells?” Steve asked.

“What do I do with them once they’re out? Can they be destroyed? Neutralized? It’s not exactly something that Victor is going to let me slip into my carry-on when I come home,” Sally laughed. Steve furrowed his brow and glanced to his side, obviously looking at Tony.

“Do you think Fury has any information on this?” He asked.

“Him or the new director at SHIELD?” Tony replied from off-camera. “Wouldn’t hurt to ask, but we’ve gotta be careful. We don’t need SHIELD swooping in there getting my girl killed.”

“I hate to ask, but can you hack –“

“I can hack anything. I’ll get going on the SHIELD database,” Tony replied. Steve looked back at the camera.

“Tony will let you know if there’s anything you can do to neutralize those Tesseract cells, as soon as possible. In the meantime, be careful. Tony said you were concerned that your communication is being monitored,” Steve led.

“I know it is. Sasha has as much as confirmed it,” Sally nodded. “I’m even starting to think my room is probably bugged, based on how careful Sasha is when we speak.”

“Sasha?”

“He’s the guard assigned to me,” Sally said.

“You can’t trust him.” Steve’s words were quick.

“I can,” Sally shook her head lightly. Steve’s eyes narrowed again.

“Be careful who you blindly trust, Sally. He works for a man who is monitoring your communication. A man who is the king of a country with closed borders. He’s going to have loyalties, and they aren’t going to be to you,” Steve warned.

“Believe me, Steve. Even you would trust Sasha,” Sally promised. Steve arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He glanced away from the screen again, and it was obvious he was looking for something or someone.

“I would pass you back to Tony, but he’s disappeared. I have a text here that says I am to say ‘I love you, princess’, so uh, I love you, princess.” Steve winked. “And stay safe. I don’t care how old Jake is, I wouldn’t want to face him if something happened to you.” The screen beeped as the call disconnected and Sally sighed. She almost felt like she had more questions than she’d had before talking to Steve.

Rather than try to make small talk, Sally allowed Victor to direct the course of their meal conversations over the next few days, and was disturbed to notice that he rarely asked after the car. He was working on something big, he explained, and was often so lost in his own thoughts that meals were completely silent. It made having to attend each one all the more frustrating on days when he said nothing.

“Tell me how the car is,” Victor prompted after an awkward silence over breakfast. Sally jumped, and choked on her coffee. When she regained herself, she looked up at him, suspicious. She and Sasha had been working on switching out the Tesseract power cells on the battery the previous day when a passing sentry patrol had popped in to check on them. She’d thought they’d covered the eerie blue glow before it had been noticed, but the patrol had turned out to be beta unit robotic sentries, and had scanning capabilities. They’d questioned her about the strange power signature coming off the battery, and she had thought she’d covered by saying the battery was old and malfunctioning. Victor’s sudden interest was too much of a coincidence.

“The pistons your fabrication shop made are perfect, and the engine is back together. I rebuilt the alternator earlier this week and we’ve just been getting the battery back in shape. It’s a specialized battery from the period, and I think a modern battery would be more appropriate. Sa – uh, my guard said he would grab one from one of the convoy trucks so we could try before I bothered you for a new one,” Sally explained, choosing her words carefully.

“I understand my new robotic sentry patrol checked on you yesterday?” Victor countered. Sally bit her cheek and nodded, taking a deep, quiet breath to calm her nerves.

“Yeah, those are pretty cool technology, Victor. I honestly thought they were soldiers, and not robots,” Sally offered, hoping to deflect the conversation away from the car.

“The Servo-Guards are both, Sally,” Victor laughed. “A robotic soldier could be so much more effective in battle. No emotions to cloud its judgment. No need to worry about casualties when your platoons are all made of replaceable parts. It’s ideal. I developed them to protect Latveria, but I am sure the world military powers will want my soldier sentries.”

“No morality encoded in their DNA to give them judgment?” Sally countered.

“There’s no place for morality in war,” Victor scoffed.

“It could be argued that the most important place for morality is in war, Victor. That’s why we have international codes like the Geneva Convention,” Sally shook her head.

“If both sides send robots to the frontlines, there is no need for the Geneva Convention,” Victor argued.

“And if one side is human?”

“To the victor go the spoils,” he shrugged. “I’m sure the human side would be clamoring for my tech by the end of the first day.” Sally shuddered.

“Do the robots have any artificial intelligence?” Sally asked. “I mean, if they have no moral code, do they have the capability of thought? How do they determine who is and isn’t an enemy?”

“I’m so pleased that you are interested in my project, Sally.” Victor smiled, causing a chill to run down Sally’s spine. “They are all programmed with A.I., the basic ability to differentiate between an ally and enemy.”

“How do they tell?” Sally’s confusion and interest were genuine. She knew nothing about artificial intelligence, so learning more about the Servo-Guards was actually interesting, and not just strategic.

“They have advanced capabilities to sense physiological reaction in humans, in order to discern the truth. The only people who lie are those who have something to hide,” Victor shrugged. “And if you are willing to lie to your leader, you are obviously an insurgent. And if you are lying about who you are, you are clearly seeking to destroy Latveria.”

“Other than that, how can they tell?” Sally asked. “I don’t know much about robotics and artificial intelligence, Victor, I apologize. But what if a Servo-Guard was questioning one of your subjects who had a fever. They would have an abnormal physiological response to everything in that situation, right? So how would the robot know it was because they were sick, and not because they were lying?”

“An honest citizen of Latveria would not be harmed just because they were outside of normal range. They may be detained for questioning, but not harmed,” Victor responded.

“Don’t you think people might be upset about being detaining without cause?” Sally asked, eyebrows knotting between her eyes.

“If they have nothing to hide, they have nothing to fear,” Victor dismissed. “And cooperation with the Servo-Guards will be noted for future reference.”

“Well, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I trust you have it well in hand,” Sally allowed a nervous laugh; trying to show him she wasn’t bothered by the direction of the conversation. And she’d seemed to deflect the conversation from the car, at any rate.

“The Servo-Guards yesterday reported that the battery you have was giving off an abnormal power signature.” Or maybe she hadn’t deflected the questions after all, she thought.

“Like I said, the battery is the original from the forties, and the power cells have degraded over time.” Sally wracked her brain for a suitable, believable story that wouldn’t trigger a ‘physiological reaction’ in her own body. “Some of these old cars use nickel-iron batteries, which fell out of favour in the 1940s. Which is cool because they last forever, without leeching toxins into the environment, but this one hasn’t been used in 75 years, so needs a little help to get going again.” It was mostly the truth, she reasoned. Nickel-iron would have been the likeliest battery for that car had the Tesseract power cells not existed. Victor nodded.

“That seems reasonable. I’ll have the specifications for nickel-iron batteries added to the scanning banks of the Servo-Guards,” Victor nodded. “Now, tomorrow, is Vurdalakovich taking you to snowboard?”

“That was the plan. I really want to try those hard runs!” Sally was relieved to have the change of conversation, and focused on the inanity of weekend plans for the rest of the meal.

“So those robots are some new guard Victor has developed,” Sally offered as they tromped through the snow to the garage.

“Yeah, a Servo-Guard. I did a little research of my own,” Sasha replied.

“He said he’s going to add the specs on nickel-iron batteries to their scanning array so that we won’t rouse suspicion next time they pop in,” Sally started.

“Which means we have to get those Tesseract cells out of here,” Sasha finished her thought. “I’m sure I have figured out how to pop them out. I did some digging in my memory.”

“Digging in your memory?” Sally asked, tilting her head.

“After Azzano, when we were taken prisoner, we were taken to a Hydra base where we worked on the Tesseract power cells that Schmidt was developing for the Valkyrie airplane he was building. The guy was obsessed with size. Look at his car? The plane was just as disproportionately huge,” Sasha began. “Anyhow, I worked on those power cells. And I think I know how to make them inert.”

“Shut up,” Sally breathed. Sasha laughed.

“I’ll show you. It’s easier than you would think,” he assured her. “But if we do this, we are going to have to neutralize that alternator too. And the destroyed cells are not going to read as nickel-iron.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sally asked.

“That this could be a very dangerous step,” Sasha sighed heavily. “If I neutralize those cells, I am putting you at very real risk to your life.”

“Okay,” Sally nodded.

“So I’m not sure we should do this right away,” Sasha continued. His tone was leading, as though he didn’t really want to get into the details of what he needed to say. Sally narrowed her eyes.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Sally demanded.

“Yes,” Sasha nodded.

“Cough it up, pretty boy,” she ordered. Sasha flinched, and scrubbed his hand through his hair, sending the snow that had landed on it flying around him.

“At the parade,” Sasha began. He paused and heaved out a sigh.

“Yes?” Sally waited.

“Victor introduced you during the ceremonies. That you were his honoured guest. That you were to be treated as though you were an important part of Latveria,” Sasha prompted. She could tell he wanted her to make some connection without having to spit it out himself.

“Yeah, he’s been on about me behaving as though I am family ever since I got here,” Sally nodded. “So?”

“I didn’t realized it at the time because a lot of Latverian is conveyed through tone, and nuance. Mariya clued me in last night,” Sasha apologized. “I’m so sorry, Sally. The way Victor was introducing you is the traditional way a Latverian regent introduces his intended.” The words hit Sally like a slap across the face, and she was suddenly short of breath.

“We need to neutralize those power cells and get the fuck out of here.” The words came out in a rush. She looked around the snow-covered land between the garage and the castle, then over to the hill leading up the mountain, and back toward the castle. It was snow as far as she could see.

“I don’t think Victor intends to let you leave,” Sasha agreed. Sally took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and felt the cold fingers of rage seeping out from her core through her body.

“How did you get in?” She asked.

“I took a mountain trail that is considered impassable and isn’t guarded,” Sasha responded. Sally glanced up the mountainside again. Snow and trees. Even the paths that had been visible in the early autumn looked impassable now.

“But you managed?” She pressed. Sasha cringed a little.

“Schmidt had his scientists give me a version of the serum at Azzano –“

“The serum?” Sally interrupted.

“The same serum Steve had. It’s part of the reason I haven’t aged,” he offered. Sally nodded.

“Makes sense. Is that why you didn’t die when you fell off the train?” She asked. Sasha nodded, and pulled off his gloves.

“That, and this,” he held up his left hand. But it wasn’t a hand; it was a metal robotic hand.

“Oh my god, are you one of his robots? He said they had artificial intelligence. Is this a fucking trap?” Sally backed away from him, and wound up tumbling into the snow piled along the path the garage. Sasha reached for her, and pulled her up effortless, despite her struggling to break free of his grasp.

“I lost my arm. Hydra gave me a cybernetic one. It’s a long story –“

“Yeah, like 75 years long,” Sally interjected, settling as he stabilized her.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “So yeah, it’s impassable. To an unaltered human. But I’m not.”

“I am, Bucky.” Sally looked up at the mountain again.

“I’ll be with you. The whole time,” he promised. “We’ll take off tomorrow once we’re at the ski hill. It’ll be a few days hike from there, but at least the steepest part will be done already.”

“We should really go inside and do some work,” Sally flicked her eyes over to the camera that pointed towards the path. “Help me dust off once we’re in range of it so if he’s watching he knows I fell.”

Sally removed the alternator and sat down beside Sasha. “Now what?”

“Open it up to the power cell again,” he directed. Once she had the power cell in her hand, she scraped back the solder from repairing it until the blue light leaked out again. Sasha pulled a pocketknife out and stabbed his thumb. He allowed a bead of blood to well up and smeared it into the opening she’d made. The power cell flickered, snapped and stopped glowing. As she watched, he pried open the battery power cell compartments and milked his thumb into all three cells. The blood sizzled, snapping and popping, and then, just like a switch had been flicked, the blue glow winked out.

“How does that work?” She asked.

“As near as I can tell?” He shrugged. “It has something to do with the adenosine triphosphate in the blood.”

“The what?”

“ATP is the main coenzyme used in energy transfer in the blood. It sort of controls your metabolism by transporting chemical energy. I think it, combined with the copper in the blood, does something the short out the Tesseract’s power source. Ultimately it’s an alien power source, and my blood, even altered, is still human. It’s like a game of rock paper scissors. Aliens can kick my ass, but we can wreck their weapons. And without their weapons, they can’t really kick our asses,” Sasha explained.

“Pops always said you were smart when no one was looking,” Sally laughed. Sasha smirked.

“It’s hard to hold your own when you stand beside Steve,” he replied. “But I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Sally bodged together the alternator into a semblance of working, and reinstalled it, while Sasha dropped the battery he’d brought from the convoy garage into the battery housing and connected it.

“Should we at least see if I’ve got this thing running?” Sally asked. Sasha pursed his lips.

“Let’s do it,” he decided. “But after lunch.”

Lunch was another painfully silent meal. Sally didn’t know how to act or what to say based on Sasha’s confession earlier. She could see the courtship in Victor’s mannerisms, now that she was looking for them. Touches to her hand across the table that she’d put down to cultural differences, the unnecessarily effusive apologies for missing meals together when he worked through them, it all was so obvious now that she knew what he was up to.

It was everything she could do to not yank her hand away when he placed his over hers as he spoke. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on what he was saying.

“And so I thought that in order to celebrate the success of my Servo-Guards, we might have a movie night. I know I’ve cancelled on you more often than we’ve actually sat down for a viewing, but I’ve freed my calendar tonight, and would like to spend the evening with you.” He squeezed her hand as he spoke. Sally forced her face to remain neutral.

“That would be lovely. More Doctor Who?” She asked.

“If that is what you would prefer,” Victor nodded. “Tell me, have you resolved the power issue with the batteries?”

Sally swallowed and forced herself to smile. Lying wasn’t part of her nature. It was why she hadn’t been able to hold out and not speak to Tony when she’d arrived in New York. And now she was being forced to feed lie after lie to Victor. “I think we have. I’ve patched up the alternator as well as I can, and we have a battery. We’re going to try firing it up after lunch.”

“I am unfamiliar with car restorations,” Victor began. “Where do you expect to go once you have the engine working?”

Sally smiled, genuinely. It was an easy question to answer. Boring, but easy. “Well, just because the engine is working doesn’t mean I’ve got everything installed yet. I’m going to have to do quite a bit of work to the exhaust, and it’s a huge exhaust system. After I’ve fixed that up, and reconnected everything, the bodywork will start. The body is in remarkable condition, so it won’t need a lot, but it’s such a huge car that the hours will still be there. Finally, once I’ve got all that managed, I usually wrap up with the rewiring. I mean, that’s glossing over a lot, but that’s the basics of it.”

“So it’s not as different as you expected?” Victor prompted.

“Well, let’s just say an engine is an engine,” Sally laughed. “The principle is all the same. I was terrified when I first saw the car, but now that I’m working on it, it’s not so bad. It’s the same, but more time intensive.”

“I’m glad to hear you are feeling confident,” Victor smiled.

“Starting to be,” Sally smiled. She glanced up at the clock and sighed. “I should get back to work.”

“Of course,” Victor nodded. “This evening then.”

“So everything is a million times more creepy now that you’ve told me what he did,” Sally complained as they walked back toward the garage. Sasha smirked and shook his head.

“He was creepy before that, Sally,” he retorted.

“Well, yeah, but now even more so,” Sally grumbled. “And I apparently have a date tonight. No getting out of it.”

“So what’s the plan with the car? Are you going to leave it where we’re at, or are you planning on booby-trapping it?” Sasha asked. Sally could see the Bucky Barnes that Pop told stories about in the mischievous look on his face.

“It’s so tempting to rig it to blow, knowing the history. But honestly, I just want out of here. I don’t want out with a target on my back, you know?” Sally thought aloud. Sasha nodded and held the door open for her. She stepped inside and hung her jacket up, stomping her boots off as Sasha followed her in.

“Good tactical awareness. Steve would be proud,” Sasha laughed, scrubbing a hand through his hair to dislodge the snow that had fallen.

“Uncle Tim would have told me to blow it sky high,” Sally laughed in response. “Let’s see if we’ve managed to fix this monster up enough that the engine will fire.” She grabbed the key and sat behind the wheel. Once she slid the key into the ignition, she shifted into first, and depressed the clutch as she turned the ignition. The engine coughed and wouldn’t turn over. She tapped the gas gently, priming the engine, and tried again. Again, the engine coughed, but wouldn’t turn over. She tapped the gas one final time, hoping she wouldn’t flood the engine, and turned the key. The engine coughed, sputtered, and just as Sally was about to give up, roared to life.

And it roared. It was deafening. The garage started to fill with exhaust and Sasha ran to the bay and hauled it open, letting the cold air clear out the toxic cloud of smoke that had formed almost instantly. Sally turned the car off, and ran out into the snow bank at the garage bay. She turned and stared back at the car.

“We can’t let this car be a thing,” Sally coughed. “This thing is a weapon.”

“It’s not really,” Sasha contradicted.

“No, it is. What the hell did Schmidt use this for? Leisurely afternoon drives? The implications of how fast you could go, the ease of weaponizing it,” Sally rambled. “This was intended to be a weapon. And it can’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“So we sabotage it,” Sasha smirked. Sally shook her head.

“I can’t. It’s also a work of art.” The conflict was evident in her voice.

“Okay, here’s the plan. Sleep on it. If you want me to rig it up, tell me in the morning before we leave to the ski hill, and I’ll do it,” Sasha compromised.

“Yeah?”

“If it makes you more comfortable with the decision, doll, I’m up for it. But we’re out of here tomorrow, so you don’t have much time,” Sasha shrugged.

“Okay. Let’s get to work on the exhaust. It obviously has more wrong with it than I’d initially realized.” Sally switched back into work mode again. It was easier to pretend she would be back to work on the car on Monday than to try to wrap her brain around why she was going to do another few hours’ work on a car she was abandoning in the morning. They took apart the exhaust system, piece by piece, inspected each piece and finally found the damaged part. Sally took detailed scans of the piece and forwarded them to Victor with a request for fabrication, recognizing that requesting a part would be a great smoke screen for the planned escape.

When Sasha’s alarm went off, Sally was a grimy, sweaty mess.

“You’ll be a pretty picture tonight for your big date,” Sasha teased as they made their way back to the castle.

“It’s called a shower. You should try it sometime,” Sally winked as she headed up to her room.

“I’ll try that tonight. You can smell me in the morning!” He called after her. Sally shook her head and turned into her room, heading toward the shower. She hesitated at the desk, wondering if she should fill Tony in on her plans, but realized that doing so would risk bringing the Avengers into Latveria, and it was too great a risk so soon after Sokovia. Once they were clear of the borders, she would contact him for pick up. Or extraction. Or whatever it was that superheroes called rescue missions

Dinner was much more formal than she had become accustomed to, and despite the repeated assurance from Victor that she was not underdressed, she felt like she had missed some important cue when she saw his dark suit. His tie was loose, and the top button of his shirt was open, but he still wore the jacket. Sally felt dowdy in her charcoal thermal leggings and black shift dress. Victor slipped his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves before sitting.

“I find myself apologizing to you quite frequently, Sally. I am grossly overdressed tonight,” he excused, fiddling with one cuff. With a careful fold, he managed to make rolled sleeves look nearly as formal as the jacket had been. The sharp lines of the tailoring, coupled with the strong lines of his lanky frame made him quite striking, Sally reflected, realizing with a start that much of his physical appearance was being presented in the best light. As he seemed to think he was wooing her. She was torn between shuddering and being flattered that her opinion mattered. In a different world, she may have been very flattered by the attentions of such a handsome, intelligent and powerful man. But that would have meant a world without Tony, and it wasn’t one she was willing to contemplate.

“I was just thinking I must have misunderstood your plans tonight, and dressed inappropriately myself,” Sally forced a smile. Victor shook his head to reassure her.

“No, no,” he smiled. “I am afraid I have to beg an indulgence from you tonight, if I may?”

“Too busy for movie night?” Sally hoped she didn’t sound too excited by the prospect.

“I have a particular client that I need to go meet with. And she’s very particular about what she expects in a sales pitch,” Victor began. “I’m afraid my dancing skills are quite rusty. Would you oblige me with some dancing tonight?”

Sally blanched. “I can’t dance.”

“I believe the man is expected to lead. Allow me to practice leading you, and I will be well prepared for my business assignation,” Victor’s words were intended to be smoothly persuasive, and Sally realized that refusing would only rouse his suspicions.

“Well, when you put it that way, how could I possibly refuse?” Sally laughed.

“Excellent. Let us eat, and then I will prepare the ballroom while you change.” Victor clapped his hands like a delighted child.

“Change?” Sally asked. Victor nodded.

“Of course. Dance is a form of exercise, Sally. You’ll be far too warm in leggings and your wool dress,” he smiled.

“So my running gear then?” Sally arched an eyebrow and smirked. Victor met her gaze and responded in kind.

“How about that lovely black wrap dress you wore when the weather was still warm?” He suggested. A server presented them with their dinner plates, effectively interrupting the conversation for long enough that Sally couldn’t respond.

Sally tugged her lip between her teeth as she changed, wondering if she really ought to fill Tony in on what was going on. She had already decided once to just get in contact with him once she was out of Latveria, but Victor’s behaviour at dinner made her uneasy. She wrestled with it as she touched up her make-up, wondering if she just didn’t want to tell Tony because she liked the attention, or if she honestly feared that he would bring down the wrath of what he liked to jokingly call ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ on Latveria. She needed to talk to someone, and wanted to bang her head against the wall as Clint’s chastisement about being a hermit rang in her ears. Everyone she trusted was somehow tied to Tony, and she couldn’t confide in them lest they bring their concerns to him. She supposed she could talk to her mom, but Betty was just as likely to turn to Tony now as any one on the team. It would have to wait until she could talk to Sasha in the morning, and by then, it was going to be moot. They were heading across the mountain pass by the afternoon.

A gentle knock sounded at her door, and the decision was no longer Sally’s to make. She smiled and took Victor’s offered arm, allowing him to lead her through the castle to the ballroom.

The lights were dimmed, and there was already music playing when they stepped into the room. Sally started at the sight of a small orchestral group and looked at Victor in alarm.

“I’m pleased to say my Servo-Guards are also programmed to play a variety of instruments, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to test that function,” he explained smoothly. Sally fought the urge to roll her eyes, and allowed him to lead her to the middle of the ballroom floor. He slid his right hand under her arm, leading her arm up onto his shoulder. “The waltz was, when it was first introduced, a horribly scandalous dance. The Germans introduced it, and they danced so close that their cheeks touched. It was felt to be indecent.”

“Our cheeks are not touching, Victor,” Sally pointed out the space between them. Victor pulled her closer until his breath was warm at the crown of her head.

“We are rather poorly matched for cheeks to touch, but I believe we are at that level of indecent closeness now.” His voice was a whisper against her hair. He stiffened his arms, making space between them again. “Of course, eventually the English had to make the dance decent. And the way we dance changed again, and the waltz seems like the dance of puritans compared to what I’ve seen in American nightclubs.”

Sally let out a bark of laughter. “I somehow can’t see you in a nightclub.”

“Funny, I thought the same of you,” he smiled. He led her around the dance floor until the song ended, and the Servo-Guard band started a different dance, and Victor slid his hand further across Sally’s back, bringing her back close to him. “I’ve always been more fond of the foxtrot myself. There’s less room for secrets between the dancers, there needs to be trust in order for a dance so swift to be successful.”

Sally stumbled a little as he spoke. “Just relax, Sally, and let me lead you. If you follow my strong lead, I can promise you safety and enjoyment.”

She swallowed thickly, and tried to empty her brain of whatever thoughts were bouncing around in it. She tried to reassure herself that all Victor was looking for was a dance partner for the evening to knock the rust off his technique, but Sasha’s words rung in her ears, and coupled with the press of his strong chest against hers, she was having a hard time believing that she was just doing her friend, no, her employer, a favour. She stumbled again, and used the opportunity to break out of Victor’s hold.

“I’m so sorry Victor, I should have known I would be all left feet. It was a long day on the car, and I’m exhausted.” She faked a yawn for good measure. “You’re an incredible dancer. I’m sure your client will be dazzled into buying dozens of Servo-Guards if you give her this same sales pitch.”

Victor nodded, a small wrinkle forming between his eyebrows that Sally thought might be annoyance. “Of course, Sally. Allow me to escort you back to your room. I appreciate your willingness to be my guinea pig tonight. Perhaps if you aren’t too tired tomorrow after your skiing expedition, we could practice again.”

“That would be lovely,” Sally nodded, thinking it would be anything but. Victor stopped outside of her door.

“I do so enjoy spending time with you, Sally. Your refreshing company makes me less lonely,” he started. Sally faked another yawn, covering her mouth and looking at him in apology. She dropped her hand on the doorknob and turned the latch. “But you are exhausted, iubită.” He leaned in a brushed his lips across her cheek.

“Goodnight, Victor,” Sally leaned against the door, allowing it to open with her weight, and stepped into her room. She smiled as brightly as she could manage as she shut and locked the door for the night.