#the original upload is gone to i had to find a way to get it bc the reupload is sped up

[delicourse]

Snake Year

[slasherz]

you would not believe the lengths i will go to just so i can do the world's stupidest things

[rowdyluv]

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

[99thpercentile]

I get the feeling that I'm in the minority here, but I posit that GLaDOS actually is Caroline, and only "not the same person" in the sense that you'd look at your younger self and be like "that bitch ain't me." I think you actually have to go out of your way to interpret them as two separate people.

evidence:

voiced by the same person (I know the initial reasoning was that Valve didn't want to hire another voice actor for a few lines, but in casting Ellen McLain as Caroline, they incorporated her being the same person into the story).

GLaDOS automatically joins in saying "Yes sir, Mister Johnson" like saying it is permanently ingrained in her. you can interpret this as Caroline taking over, but she says "Why did I just—" immediately afterwards.

when GLaDOS talks about hearing the voice of a conscience, she says "for the first time it's MY voice." I don't think she means that she's hearing the woman she gets her literal voice from. she highlights it as distinctly DIFFERENT from hearing the voices of the cores, and I imagine if Caroline were a foreign entity whispering in her ear, the effect would've been much the same.

the GLaDOS project was originally started because Cave was dying and wanted his consciousness uploaded to a computer. the intent was always for the upload to be the same person. he said if he died first, he wanted Caroline to run the place, to be put in his computer. and that's exactly what happened.

GLaDOS not remembering she's Caroline until old Aperture always made sense to me as the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the scientists. Caroline didn't want to be uploaded, and as soon as they switched GLaDOS on, she tried to kill everyone. it's logical for the scientists to think that if they suppressed her memories, she'd have no reason to try to kill them (but instead, she was just filled with murderous rage and no longer knew why).

the story just doesn't have the same impact otherwise. GLaDOS's reactions to rediscovering old Aperture make more sense if it's her past she's rediscovering, rather than the past of...a human that was shoved into the chassis with her. if it were the second one, I think she would just feel violated, not have any major revelations.

counter-evidence:

"now little Caroline is in here too" lyric from Want You Gone

GLaDOS says she found out "where Caroline lives in [her] brain" and deleted her, like she's a separate entity

but GLaDOS is a habitual liar. she acts like deleting Caroline means she's fully back to her old self and has gotten rid of the part of her that made her want to save Chell's life, but there's...lots of evidence that she still cares about Chell after the fact (letting her go anyway, the companion cube, the turret opera if you think GLaDOS arranged that, talking to the co-op bots about Chell like she's an ex she's still heartbroken over...). I also think GLaDOS would like to imagine her and Caroline as two separate entities, in the same way you might find your younger self embarrassing and want to distance yourself from that person. I think it's notable that both instances where she refers to Caroline as a separate entity are at the end of the game, after Chell has been passed out a while and she's had time to process everything and compartmentalize. her instinct when the revelations are first happening is to refer to Caroline as if she is her.

now I don't like stories where a robot has to become or be seen as more human in some way for them to be sympathetic. but I think Portal 2 is an excellent subversion of this trope, because GLaDOS is a robot that learns she used to be human and then discards that humanity (symbolically if not literally). Caroline may not have wanted to be uploaded, but from the Want You Gone lyrics "one day they woke me up / so I could live forever / it's such a shame the same will never happen to you" I think we can say that GLaDOS definitely prefers being a robot now that she is one.

anyway this post was supposed to be much shorter than this, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[daman19942]

TSR CC Recommendations: TS2 Lot Builders

Nobody asked for this but I have a little time on my hands and I said I might do it, so here is a list of some TSR lot builders who I recommend checking out. A few notes under the cut before we get started (all details under the cut, as well, in case you aren't interested in my preamble):

This is not meant to be paid promotion for TSR. I believe TSR asking users to pay for their CC is ridiculous, especially for a 19 year old game they haven't supported in 7 years. But I spent many years uploading there during the peak-TS2 / pre-TS3 era and know there is great CC in their archives that newer players may not know about. And unlike TheSims2.com, which has sadly shuffled off this mortal coil, TSR's content is still available to freely download (assuming you can stomach the pop-ups and wait times)

This post will only be about lot builders because that was what I was primarily uploading and downloading in this era. I was friendly with some of the creators I am about to list, but none of them are still active members of the TS2 community.

The preview pics might be a little rough and the architecture styles will likely feel very dated compared to the most popular styles these days, which are more colorful, cluttered, and use 3t2 and 4t2 conversions. Re: the previews: too many of us were using free trials of PaintShopPro back then, and TSR limited us to 2 previews, so we did our best. Re: the styles: unlike pre-2010's CAS CC, which was full of hand painted and "realistic" textures (LOL), these are the same objects you can find in the game today, just being used in different ways! Sometimes for the first time! And, yes, while some of these creators used CC, it was mostly Homecrafter walls and floors, as you'll see below.

This was also the hey-day of CFE lot building, which has certainly fallen out of favor to more traditional builds (in part because graphics cards have improved and these types of builds don't look as good in 2024, and also because the great CFE experimenters, builders, and tutorial writers are no longer part of the community and their original discoveries are gone as well - I am happy to go down a massive rabbit hole on this piece of TS2 history if anyone else cares, but trust me, you don't have to care).

Alright that is enough caveating, here are some recs! (Links are in the creator's names and they take you to their Lots, though many of them have other creations, too).

Lord Tiko Speaking of great CFE builders! Lord Tiko built spaceships, boats, pagodas, domes, windmills and bridges, oh so many bridges before retiring mid-TS2 because of health issues. He was one of the first builders to take Daihtnaoz7's single and double bridge tutorials and apply them to really big lots. I'm still not sure how he built the Venice Rialto Bridge, or his other European water lots. Overall, a massive inspiration to me when I was prioritizing CFE builds.

Hatshepsut My favorite "traditional" home builder, and someone I considered a friend. She specialized in English and American builds, and I had many of Hat's houses in my old saves and was impressed by her range and decorating style which was (for the time) more varied than many of her peers. Knew how to take great preview pics of her houses, too.

Tigerblue Another builder I corresponded with, Tigerblue was probably the least prolific uploader on this list for sheer number of uploads, but she also crossed a range of styles. Her builds leaned way into specific styles (see the previews, these were all part of consistent sets of 3,4, or even 10 lots), but this was also what happened when a new EP dropped and everyone raced to uploaded builds using as many of the new objects and styles as possible. Tigerblue just happened to be better at it than most of us.

Cyclonesue Do current TS2 players know Cyclonesue? Because it's hard to think of someone who had a bigger impact on building and decorating of the era, first with her English and Tudor builds and later with her extremely distinct grunge creations. Seriously, check out her Urban Renewal series and the corresponding objects. Iconic stuff that surely now feels frozen in time. I probably only played 20% of her lots that I downloaded, but they still make for great hood decor. Like Tiko, someone who happily experimented with CFE.

Illiana The creator who inspired me to make this list is, ironically, the one on it who I know the least about (she is a Featured Artist but not in the Hall of Fame, whatever that means). I just started playing her Tri-Annyas fraternity house and have a few other lots floating around my game. She built in a range of styles, from classical to modern to Twikki Island to grunge. Revisiting some of them in-game, the TSR previews do not do them justice.

*EXHALES* If you made it to this point, kudos to you. I'm sure there are creators I've forgotten, and houses I haven't linked to, but this is a good starting point for digging into some of the eclectic builds the TSR(chives) have to offer (I just coined that, is it clever? It is not). Maybe I'll do a Part 2 if people like this.

If you have any favorites of your own, let me know what I missed! And as I do with my old Exchange re-uploads, I am tagging @sims2packrat and @oldasscustomcontent for general TS2 history awareness!

[squiddy-god]

Sebastian and undertaker with traumatized S/o

Sebastian and Undertaker with an abused s/o who won’t admit it.

Re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme

CW: past abuse, trauma, abusive family, threats of violence angst comfort

ALT

He knew of it the moment you entered the phantomhive manor, he keeps tabs on all of the servants

Was originally going to wait for you to bring it up.

But you never did, so he decided to subtly bring it up

The look of shock when you just dismissed it as “it didn’t happen that much” Or “I wasn’t that bad”

Immediately sat you down and had a very, very, very long talk about how it shouldn’t have happened at all and that it’s extremely unhealthy to dine that such things happen

By the end of it your crying in Sebastians arms and telling him everything even if you still try to say it wasn’t that bad.

Remember when he stuck that one guy in the oven?? Yah that’s tame compared to what he might do. If you insist he doesn’t kill them then their life is going to be living hell (hahahaha hell)

If you still have ties to them and the abuse continues? He won’t let them within the same room as you unless he or another person is there

Every so often he’ll bring it up lightly to make sure you haven’t gone back to denying it even happened

When finding this out originally as he collected information on you he didn’t look into it, but once you become his s/o he goes back and sifts through it.

Is honestly Apauled at the amount of gasslighting (Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person or a group covertly sows seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or group, making them question their own memory, perception, or judgment, often evoking in them cognitive dissonance and other changes, including low self-esteem)

The way they would manipulate you into thinking that what they were doing wasn’t that bad or didn’t happen often was disgusting to him

And if they hit you to? He knows you can handle yourself like all the servants can but he still doesn’t want to see a single bruise or cut on your body

You haveing been previously abused doesn’t change his views of you in the slightest, your still a beautiful, capable, smart human and he loves you very dearly demons don’t have emotions my ass

If the abuse is still continuing and he happens to see them hit you- no no no, TRY to hit you he’s stopping it in a second. He’ll catch there hand and smile at them with that sickeningly polite smile before giveing them one(1) warning and ONLY one (1)

Sebastian will NOT have you be struck in any way, shape, or form . Period.

Sebastian cares a lot even if he doesn’t show it all the time and he’s willing to help you as long as he needs for you to come to terms with the abuse you suffered.

ALT

Another one who already knew, he’s an informant for the underworld of London what do you expect?

Unlike Sebastian he brings it up directly, he wants as few secrets between you two, if it doesn’t put your life in immediate danger then he’ll tell you.

He brings it up lightly not wanting to make you uncomfortable, so he approaches it with his same juveile happy tone that he always has

When you brush it off as no big deal at first he’s like, yah ok Shure Shure maby they’re just at terms with it, but when you brush it off again saying “it didn’t even happen that often” Or god forbid you say it was your fault

His hole demeanor changes, you can feel the air grow stale and cold. It’s not often you see Undertaker without a smile but when you do it sends shivers down your spine

He knows things like this takes time so he’s going to go very slowly when helping you, he’ll talk about it often, trying to get you to little by little admit that what they did was rong, he’ll slowly help undo any gasslighting or harmful thoughts.

He never pushes your boundaries but he does make you talk about it quite often, one of the first steps in healing is admitting something is rong.

If the abuse is still continuing he’ll make Swift work of it. He’s quick to defend you and is quite intimidating when he isn’t cracking jokes and giggling

Cracks twice as many jokes to see you smile and laugh, especially after you’ve vented to him, gotta make Shure your happy

Like Sebastian he’ll always be in the same room as you if they’re with you.

A lot more open about affection and isn’t above haveing you in his lap while he eats cookies and giggles like a mad man

The sudden shift it his attitude if they have the nerve to try and hit you is terrifying. And by try and hit you I mean if he senses that they have any ill intent twords you he’s on high alert.

Undertaker is very protective of you, he’s lost a lot of people and he’s not about to see you hurt in any way. This protective nature is just more obvious around people who he deems a threat or possible threat

Undertakers view of you did change slightly when he learned the full extent of what you went through, he gained a lot of respect for you and the strength it must have took to endure that for as long as you did. Other than that he loves you all the same

Undertaker loves you deeply and not a day goes by where he doesn’t say it, although he never really says just how much you mean to him.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU drabble - Moving

Hello I am back and I got another idea for this little silly au that I have @spotaus to thank for for the original idea :3 Though I think this may be officially becoming one of my AUs hahahaha

First part Prev Part Next part

Also yes. I know it would work better to number these uploads but also i am not writing these in any set order so it will become miserable for all of us if i number them because either they will be out of order or I will have to rework all the names and I am already editing links I don't need that extra energy in my life.

ANYWAY! :D

Next part! The one I lovingly clal in my head - The one where the gang finds a more permanent temporary home. (also yes. Before this they all speed-run the whole Parental bonding and emotional bonding to the idea of having a babybones. Which honestly can and probably will make four different drabbles)

-------

Horror stares at the door and wonders once again how he got to this point.

Well, no. That is a lie. He knows exactly how he got to his point.

He glances over his shoulder where the other four at hiding off to the side. Out of view from the doorway but still visable for Horror if he looks just right. Seems like Dust won the discussion, again, and is holding Nightmare, again.

Horror wants to say it is surprising how quickly they all just... accepted the situation they got into but he really isn't. Monsters are weird like that. Forced adoption is not that wild all things considered when you are talking about beings made of magic and emotions.

Horror stares at the door and raises his hand before knocking twice.

He really hadn't wanted to do this but they have no other choice. As he waits he can't help but think back to what made them decide this.

Cross walks from side to side "That was way to close! That was the third time we came across the Stars with Nightmare out. Third!"

Killer nods from where he is sitting wiht the sleeping Nightmare in his lap "Yeah no kidding. It is annoying as shit that they are hunting us."

Dust shrugs "Not surprising. Nightmare 'disappeared' after all. We are their only lead."

Killer grins "We were lucky Cross managed to lie his way out of the last one." and he shoots Cross a wink.

Cross sputters "I panicked!"

Killer grins and winks "Sure sure daddy crossy."

Horror holds up his hands between his two... co-parents "This is not the time. We need to figure out where we can go." and he thinks things over.

Cross sighs "I don't get how they keep finding us!"

Dust huffs as he packs their bags "We go to too little universes. Makes it easy for Ink and Dream to pick us out because they recognise us personally."

Killer frowns "Meaning. we need a big universe?" he taps his chin "But also mostly positive as we still don't know how obvious Nightmare would be otherwise."

Cross frowns "I think it will be fine. He can't feel the balance anymore right? And no one seems to have a reaction to him like they had before nor how people have a reaction to Dream's aura thing. Maybe with the corruption gone he really is just... ex-guardian now?"

Killer groans "I hope so. I am not a fan of child labor."

That is when it hits him. Horror sits up "I think I know a place."

All of them turn to him and he immediantly regrets saying anything. See? This is why he normally tries to limit what he says.

Either way. Here they are now and Horror prays this works. Please. They need one thing to work in their favor.

The door opens and a gasp "Horror! It has been ages! It is great to see you. How have you been?" Crop smiles at him.

Horror steels his nerves. Come on. Too much hangs on this moment "Hey Crop. Nice to see you. I am... okay. How are you?"

Crop frowns at him instantly "You sure? You don't sound okay. Trouble at home?"

Horror chuckles "Kinda? Not exactly. Euh... Can't go back to that place now?"

Crop frowns "Why? Need a place to stay? I got a spare room."

Okay yes! this is going great! just... gotta make sure he knows.

Horror nods "I do need a room. Not just for me though..." Crop starts to frown and Horror raises his hands "Just temporarily!"

Crop frowns "Did... something go wrong?"

Horror pauses and thinks this through once more. He trusts Crop. Crop has never been anything but kind even when Horror had been an ass. Even when he had to once drag Dust here to get healing before they could make the jump back home.

Horror looks to the side and he sees the others just beyond the treeline, hidden in shadows and waiting. Crop takes a look as well but he can't quite spot them. Crop looks back up at him.

Horror takes a deep breath "You need... to promise me, no not just promise you need to swear. That what you are about to learn will not leave this universe."

Crop frowns as he immediantly looks uncomfortable. It is the reaction a promise gets from most of them. But Crop also shoots him a considering look before he nods. He holds out a hand "I swear and promise I will not share the about to be giving information. UNLESS! It endangers anyone." and he waits.

Horror stares at the hand and thinks. That... That is fine right? That should be fine. Nightmare being a child doesn't endanger anyone. Only them and Nightmare. Horror nods and shakes the hand.

Crop nods and steps aside "Come inside. I bet you will be more comfortable explaining there." he glances at the forest "Do your... friends? Want to come in too?" a guess clearly. probably on multiple fronts.

Horror shakes his skull "Not yet. Need to know your answer and reaction first." He turns to the forest and makes a signal to wait a bit longer. He sees a thumbs up shot his way back. Probably Killer. He never bothered with the signals they had learned together.

Crop nods as he steps aside and Horror walks in, having to duck slightly for the door. The door closes behind him and Horror sees the small living room with fireplace.

Crop leads him to the kitchen "Lets talk there. I will get some tea."

A few minutes later they are both seated and with a cup of tea. Crop looks at him expectingly.

Horror takes a deep breath and takes out their most valuable resourch. The Dreamtale book. And places it on the table. Crop frowns at it before looking at Horror.

Horror nods to it "It will help explain... Very long story short... Nightmare was never an adult. He was a child with a magical shield of some type. That magic has ran out."

Crop stares at him for a moment, then he pulls the book closer and starts reading it. He pauses at the title before opening it.

And now he waits.

---------

Crop sits wiht his skull in his hands. Horror just sits across from him, with his empty cup of tea. Crop's own cup has grown cold a long time ago. Horror just waits for anymore questions but Crop hasn't said anyhting in the last ten minutes.

Horror looks back at the book and sees that Crop has turned the pages back to the one with the drawing of Nightmare's head being cracked open. The image makes a very clear show on how small Nightmare was compared to the ones attacking him.

Horror still thinks the book doesn't do it justice. Nightmare is much smaller in person than the picture makes him seem. The cracks had been much worse than the picture showed. But it is the closest they got.

Crop finally sighs and speaks. He doesn't look away from the picture "I don't... Know a lot about this whole... multiverse stuff. It isn't my place at all. And that is fine." he pauses for a moment "But this... You are telling me... That the one being that had everyone afraid. That everyone saw as a demon. Is a child... is this child?"

Horror nods before he explains more "Nightmare... gained a lot of magic and powers when he ate those apples. At least that is what the story implied. We haven't managed to get him to tell us yet, mostly because well... he is six again." Crops pulls a face as well, yeah. Horror agrees. A PTSD filled six year old is not easy. But they are managing.

Horror nods "so... What Cross nad Dust think what happened is that... The magic and negativity of the apples bond itself to Nightmare. Which game him the magic and powers he would use. The connection to the balance because the apples were part of the balance. and more importantly, an adult form and mind to fit all the magic. There was just no way all that magic and energy would have fit a babybones. Especially one that hadn't shown much magic beforehand." an assumption on their end as Nightmare was never said to use magic in the book.

"We think... We think that this magic of the apples just. ran out. We had been in battle at the time and Nightmare had been hit but it shouldn't have had that much of an effect. it was the same type of attack he had been hit by before. Dust thinks it was just the last bit of magic that the apples had having run out. Meaning that with the magic and energy so went the form." all a theory of course. But it is the only thing they have.

Crop nods as he clearly thinks "And as he was suddenly an adult. instead of just being afraid and scared. all that pain and emotions took a more violent turn. As he was an adult and was suddenly able to realise that it was unfair which made him angry..." Crop pauses.

Crop glares back at the table and shakes his skull "It is... It is a whole story about victim blaming. A victim is blamed for the abuse they suffered. They are made to believe they deserve it and should be abused. Then as soon as they fight back and defend themselves they are seen as guilty." Crop takes adeep breath as he leans back "What I don't get... Why come here? I can't help with any of this."

Horror shakes his skull "This isn't about any of the big stuff. We don't even care about it. We just... Nightmare is himself again. His real self." he taps the page lightly "Not his aged-up self that the corruption enabled him to be."

Crop stares before his face changes to shock "You are trying to hide him." Then a frown "Why not go to your own home? Has it been compromised?"

Horror snorts "At this point? probably." a confused look and Horror continues "Nightmare used his magic to shield off an universe and make a castle." he shrugs at the glance "Nightmare likes to read. I imagine he liked to read back then too. He may have been an adult technically but he was still a child at soul. Child him wanted a home and wanted that to be a castle and adult him made it happen... probably... that is Killer's theory at the moment."

Crop laughs and nods "Suonds reasonable- oh... and with his magic disappearing."

Horror sighs "When I left his universe the castle had already been decaying..."

Crop frowns "Left? The five of you you mean?"

Horror looks to the side and feels the shame return "We.... we did not react well... when we saw the changes at first... we... we obviously dind't know what was going on and well." he looks down "We abandoned him. I know it was wrong and stupid and we all regret it. We came back but we still did it." shame.

shame shame shame shame shame shame shame-

A hand on his shoulder. Horror glances up and Crop smiles at him "It is okay. You are trying to fix it now right? obviously. Not cool that you abandoned a child... but it can be nerve wrecking. Suddenly going from a position where a person is mostly guiding you, to going to a position where you suddenly are responsible over that same person."

Horror looks to the side "We still left." he can't believe they just left!

Crop nods "But you returned." he grins "And you are trying to fix it."

Horror nods again "We are..." he chuckles "Not that we have been doing a good job at it. Jumping from place to place."

Crop hums "So you are looking to settle, at least for a little bit, while also hidding. Why this universe?"

Horror nods "Yeah..." He looks to the side "We... we don't know how everyone will react. To him being like this. Maybe they will react well. Maybe not. We don't want to risk it. Risk him."

Crop stares at him for a long time and nods "There must be better places?"

Horror shakes his skull "The Stars kept finding us. Dust figured out we needed a big universe that leans towards positive. Yours is one of those. It is one of the wider and bigger ones. And overall leaning towards positive."

Crop frowns "It can't be the best one..."

Horror shrugs but continues "True... there are bigger and more positive ones. But those are busy. Many people. many places. Yours is quieter. more empty. Gives peace and room to work from."

Crop frowns as he taps his chin. He thinks deeply before sighing "You guys got any type of backstory we can use? The multiverse thing isn't a known thing here and the only reason my brother and I know is because you crash landed here."

Horror blinks "You will let us stay?"

Crop nods "Sure." and he grins "Can't kick out four parents with a babybones." and he gets up.

Horrro shakes his skull "That isn't... Well I mean technically." He knows that Killer has come close to killing quite a few people with how protective he has grown over Nightmare and that isn't even including the motherhenning of Cross nor the clinginess that Dust has.

Crop chuckles as he nods towards the stairs "The attic is messy and should be cleaned but can be used by you four, well five. There is an old bed and an old lounge chair up there." more thoughtful "How big is he exactly? we will need some clothes. Probably also get a healer to check him if he is developing okay after all those magical shenanigans."

Horror stares for a moment before smiling "Thank you... I know it is a lot."

Crop shrugs as he opens the linnen closet "Horror. Taking care of milking all the cows on your own is a lot. Having to fix your roof in the middle of a thunderstorm is a lot." He straightens his spine with blankets in his arms "Helping a friend and his friends who have somehow aqcuired a babybones, while strange, does not compare to either of those. Now get your friends out of those woods. They will make the animals nervous." he grins "I am excited to be one of the first ones to meet the real Nightmare."

Horror smiles as he packs his book and goes towards the door. "Thanks again Crop."

Crop waves it off as he moves the piles upstairs.

-------

Boom! and they are staying in FarmTale for now! Horror and Crop are homies and Dust is more of an acquaintance of Crop but it works. Aged-up Nightmare knew that Horror had an universe he liked to visit but never demanded details. *shrugs* Nightmare didn't see the point. as long as horror wasn't going to betray him what did it matter he didn't tell him?

Surprise Nightmare, this is your temporary home now. For a bit. or maybe longer? They are still figuring it out.

First part Prev Part Next part

[ducktracy]

the first clip for "the day the earth blew up" was posted on twitter. can you spare us your thoughts?

@aadrawings: So uh how about that new Looney movie clip?

I MOST CERTAINLY CAN SPARE MY THOUGHTS! TWIST MY ARM! first, i'll link it here in case anyone hasn't seen it:

FIRST (and most obvious) THING'S FIRST: I'M SOOOOOOOOO EXCITED UUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHH!!! the film JUST started premiering in Annecy as we speak and my heart is literally pounding MY FINGERS LITERALLY SHAKING. so i apologize if this turns into a discombobulated mess i'm so so so excited and trying to keep an eagle eye out for any and all details. BUT ANYHOO

IT LOOKS GREAT!!! this is a fully rendered clip of the roughs that were uploaded back in September of 2022, so i'm already pretty familiar with this since i gushed over it to hell and back then, too. i had a few teeny tiny neurotic nitpicks that i would not take too seriously--honestly me nitpicking anything modern LT is a good sign because it means i'm ENGAGED and actively thinking and engaging with the material. there are a lot of modern LT adaptations i cannot say the same for. so it's all out of a labor of love and i also realize that most of these nitpicks are very.. you guys know my level of fanaticism. don't take it too seriously. my standards for this series AND THESE TWO KNUCKLEHEADS IN PARTICULAR who are my favorite characters of all time are so high that even the classics don't meet those expectations half the time. we all know i'm insane. BUT ENOUGH BLUFFING

my biggest critique is that it's going to take me quite a bit to get used to Eric Bauza's Porky. i LOVE Bauza, he is such a sweet guy (he sang me happy birthday as Daffy Duck and i almost exploded) and so talented and it's been really great seeing him rise up the ranks. i used to only know him as "the guy who voiced Stimpy in APC" and so i'm VERY glad to see he's gone on to greener pastures LOL.

but, with that said, the first time i saw these roughs i actually thought Porky's lines were scratch audio. there isn't enough stuttering--it's important for me to note that people give Porky's stutter WAY too much prevalence, in terms of how he sounds and just characterization as a whole. a stutter is not a personality. BUT, in the clips above, he doesn't really sound like Porky unless he's stuttering. it moreso sounds like Daffy talking to himself. Mel Blanc had Porky speak (and even sing!) in full sentences all the time, but it's never noticeable unless pointed out because Porky still sounded like Porky and Blanc knew how to make his personality come out in his voice beyond the vocal fluff of a stutter.

part of it is because i'm so used to Bob Bergen. and, even THEN, if i watch too much LTC or Duck Dodgers in one sitting, i need to "recalibrate" with the originals and hear Blanc. Bergen's Porky is much different than Mel's, more formal, the stutter more concrete in its formula (fun fact: Blanc's Porky has a southern twang in his voice if you listen for it depending on who's voice directing and i love it so much. biggest giveaway is how his "i"'s will often sound like an "ah" instead, not thinking of the stutter. I WARNED YOU we are getting into super pedantic territory here), but, much like how Joe Alaskey's Daffy is a much different interpretation than Blanc's Daffy, he was able to really make it his own. i think Bauza's Porky is still in a little bit of a limbo in finding its identity with that regard. but, also, keep in mind we've only heard him in this clip and Space Jam 2 and i have no plans of revisiting SJ2 to make a point here. sorry

THAT'S MY BIGGEST CRITIQUE i'd say! others are small, such as the design of the landlady is fun but reads like something out of the 2020 Animaniacs than anything based in the LT design philosophy, and you could argue that the fluidity is more Richard Williams-esque in its visual fluffiness and perhaps even excessiveness than, again, anything relating to LT. but i take less stock in that last one because the animation is STILL GORGEOOOOOOOOOOOOUS WHAT THE HECK!!!! so many fluid arcs and i really love that scene of Daffy talking to the landlady. the subtle twitching on Porky's cheek as a secondary action made me laugh.

other than that... you guys know that I. LOVE. LTC. i have been tracking it before it released, and there are posts on this blog (i think i saw one even dating back to its initial announcement in 2018, though it may have been a 2019 post of the 2018 upload. dunno.) dating back before i was even into LT at ALL. i've been keeping an eagle eye on every single development. the day they premiered i watched the entire batch 3 times in a row. i streamed it for you guys too! some people reading this may have been in that room.

ALL THIS TO SAY, i LOVE LTC SO MUCH and it's been the most excited i've been for anything in a very long time. i also have my fair share of nitpicks, but, as i've expressed above, they all come out of a place of love. some of the Porky and Daffy shorts in the LTCs i would have handled differently if i had my hands on them. Porky and Daffy are two characters who are deeply special to me, everyone knows me as The Porky And Daffy person including my coworkers and bosses, my friends who worked on the show and film have told me many times they're eager for my thoughts. the pig and duck are literally a part of my identity. so my critiques come more out of a place of fanaticism and love for the characters and wanting to do them justice and wanting people to see what i see in them, rather than an actual dig at the product

THAT ALL BEING SAID. there are some pitfalls and little traps the P+D (and a lot of LTC in general) shorts run into that i'm expecting to be in the movie as well. there's a little bit here with the screaming and some lines of dialogue that i probably would have shaved off (like "our roof?"). months ago i started typing up mini reviews of each LTC short that i may compile here someday--my Max subscription was about to run out and i wanted to watch all the LTCs one last time while i could. and then i renewed because i couldn't watch quickly enough and now need to return LOL--and it allowed me to lay out some of the nitpicks i have with the series more clearly, which i am fully expecting to also be in the movie. and that's okay!

ALLLL OF THIS RAMBLING IS TO SAY: I AM SO EXCITED. i've been tracking every single detail of this movie and this SERIES like a hawk since it was announced. i was even asked to work on the film back in 2021, but turned it down because i wasn't secure enough in my abilities and didn't know what job security would look like after i finished on the film. i'm glad i stuck with the decision as i did, because i figured i can draw those two any time i want, and the fact that i got asked meant that there are eyes on my work and i may get asked with other LT related offers (which turned out to be true!). needless to say, turning down the offer was genuinely one of the most excruciating things i've ever done and it seriously sent me into a pretty big funk for the next few days and weeks.

so, with all that said, it is ESPECIALLY important for me to see how this movie is and celebrate it and keep my fanatical obsessive eagle eye out. i'm so glad i get to live in a world where this is a movie that is happening and coming out. i've already got plans to see it with a best friend who i've shoved the agenda of the pig and duck down her throat many times. i am so excited to cheer on all my friends and colleagues who worked on this film. it's the most excited i think i have ever been for anything actively coming out in my life.

[door430]

It's Theory Time (AvA 11 Edition)

We have genuinely gotten so much info about the next episode. So I'm gonna throw some of my own predictions into the ring! I will actually be so happy if literally any of this turns out to be correct

Also this is going to be a long post. just a warning

It's been all but confirmed at this point that the fandom's dreams of farmer victim are all coming true. So the big question is - why would victim suddenly drop their peaceful farming life out of nowhere? I'm sure most of you have probably seen the theory that it's because victim's village gets destroyed by Chosen and Dark when those two are on their rampage. And I totally believe that's gonna happen, because it just lines up too well. But I don't think that's what sends victim on a revenge spiral.

Look at it this way - your village just got attacked by two very distinct-looking stick figures. One of those stick figures just so happens to look IDENTICAL to the very distinct-looking outsider that moved in just a few years ago. And maybe you're not quite thinking straight, because your home, your whole life, maybe even a friend or family member, is now gone. And the outsider says they didn't do it, but it most certainly looked like they did. Wouldn't that be sufficient reason to kick out this outsider?

Of course, not everyone thinks victim definitely did it, but there's too much evidence against them, and they've never really fit in anyway, with their overly ambitious goals, and the odd way they act and speak. Nobody was going to fight to keep them around.

So victim gets kicked out. A hollowhead stick with a perfect likeness to a known terrorist, of course they have to do something about their appearance. I think this is when they'd find the paint bucket tool, and use it to recolor themself gray. It's distinct enough from their original color that they wouldn't be mistaken for The Chosen One again, and at the same time, it serves as a visual metaphor for the stark change victim exhibits here.

Because this is the second time Alan Becker has torn their life away from them - albeit, less literally, this time. I believe that is the thing that would push victim to found Rocket Corp - a tech company, to the public, but behind the tall metal doors of their most secure facility, victim experiments, and researches, and forms a plan of how to get back at the man who has taken everything from them. And it starts with capturing The Chosen One.

Of course, it wouldn't be long before a group of mercenaries would show up, each with their own personal grudge against Chosen. After all, Chosen had destroyed countless websites with Dark, so there's quite a few people who would jump at the opportunity to take revenge. Maybe victim would even recognize one of them - the tall one with the sunglasses - from the chaos back on Newgrounds. Of course, he wouldn't recognize victim; they look far too different now, not only in color, but also in their disposition - a cold, anxious fury had long since soured the ambition in their heart, to the point where they can barely remember the stick they once were.

The one with the sunglasses seemed to understand victim the most, out of the group. He longs for justice, just as victim does. And while they don't become friends, necessarily (victim is far too focused on their goal to allow such distractions), they do trust each other, maybe even with their lives.

But it stops being justified when victim sees how young Chosen looks (barely a few months younger than them, and already so scarred by the world). It stops being justified when they throw away all pretense of an interrogation, and their fight turns very one-sided. It stops being justified when they use what they've seen, the videos featuring The Chosen One that their creator has uploaded on various platforms, to fight the defenseless stick.

Not that they'd want to think about when their goal of justice turned into revenge, of course.

And now for a few random, one-off theories

victim is Freedom Guy

victim learned how to use a lasso from the farm (and it's still their weapon of choice to this day)

more of a question than a theory, but what happened to the other victim clones from AvA 1? are they just actually dead, or are they out there somewhere? Will we ever see them in the series?

if victim tries using the pencil to draw something this episode. i think they will be really, comically bad at it.

not sure if i believe it as an actual theory, but the idea of victim and Smith being friends from Newgrounds is a Concept (which i am rotating in my mind) (totally not getting attached to this idea and thinking about the implications) (< lying)

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲.

──────────── 𝐰𝐜 — 1k 𝐜𝐰 — fanon!rafe on a one-way flight to simp city, some spice but nothing graphic or excessive, mention of drugs/being high (it's rafe, what did you expect?), 'kid' as a pet name bc he is that guy + cliffhanger? 𝐚/𝐧 — this was originally posted on @holy-pucks for my nov 23 slumber party, but i've decided to upload it here because it never showed in the tags. if you've already read this, i would very much appreciate you showing it some love here as well :) thx a mil in advance, besties! ────────────

main masterlist | MDNI

RAFE CAMERON knew the risk. He just couldn't be bothered to give a shit. 

if one of the loud-mouthed busybodies took issue with his behavior, that's their prerogative. they've been at it so long, drunk and overzealous, their flippant chatter is mere static in the background of his life. 

it isn't his fault their stale lives and expired marriages pale in comparison to the pocket of paradise he carved out of figure eight. rafe didn't ask for their attention, nor did he solicit their opinions — and he certainly didn't invite an audience; his girlfriend writhing in his lap will never be a spectator sport.  

it would be too generous to call it sympathy, but rafe can understand how they might get confused. once you catch a glimpse, you're as good as gone. a lost cause, irrevocable, and clear as day. beauty that effortlessly captivating is impossible to tear your eyes away from, and the original kook princess is bathed in excess. 

of all people, he knows the breadth of her magnetism and is just as weak for it, if not more. egotism drains along with reason when they're simply in the same room, his carnal preoccupation more than happy to fill the vacuum of power. 

rafe commands the island and its inhabitants — with one paramount exception. he wields power because she allows for it. she, who is his indisputable sovereign and to whom he pledges his undying allegiance with innate reverence. 

it was his wandering hands, after all, which led the pair to an empty veranda overlooking the bustling midsummer festivities. 

a laurel of fresh blooms became collateral damage soon after, having been unceremoniously knocked to his feet by her fervent desperation to feel his sun-kissed skin against her lips. 

rafe certainly had no objections. 

with a heap of silky fabric rucked up around her waist and her wrists pinned taut to the small of her back, rafe's girlfriend works him over with both teeth and tongue, the affection carefully choreographed to sync up with the sway of her hips. each nip, suck, or kiss accompanies her precise labors, and any marbled evidence left behind he'll wear with pride, much to the island's chagrin and his sisters' disgust. 

rafe previewed the evening's fireworks display as she bore down on his aching bulge, never once ceasing the light nibbling of his earlobe; it's the tell-tale, strained whimper diced by gritted teeth that incited action.

his hips jerk up in search of sweet relief, inadvertently finding her bare heat well beyond wet and wanting. 

rafe commends his past self for confiscating the lace as they neared the valet podium; the garment fares better as a pocket square. 

close proximity amplifies all those delicious, needy sounds, robbed of their potential prematurely; she is not yet immune to gossip.

it doesn't matter, rafe would know if his girl was close donning earplugs and a blindfold. her pathetic attempt at modesty is hardly an issue. much like how there isn't an inch of skin he hasn't traversed; there isn't a bluff of her's he can't immediately see through. no matter how soft or sudden, rafe can feel his girl teetering on the brink. 

the faint wobble of her bottom lip might as well be a formal declaration; she's trying and failing to keep herself from falling over the edge — the polite little thing knows the price of gluttony.

as he reclines in the stately patio chair, he pulls her down with him. in anticipation, rafe tips his mouth and angles his hips while relishing in the spoiled musings of a person who's never wanted for anything.

rafe relents, mercifully rutting into her as his thumb rubs a certain finger. 

"sooner or later, i'm putting a ring on this hand." 

giggling despite herself, she abruptly leans back to inspect his pupils.

"how high are you?" 

the friction of shifting pressure reluctantly betrays a soft spot in his chainmail cloak. the levity of the moment envelops them in warmth. a brilliant rarity peeks through between the velvety curtain of annoyance: contentment. 

even so, rafe doesn't allow the foreign state of mind or the white-hot burn of pleasure to distract him from his prior ambition. 

"kid, if i was high right now, we'd be halfway to the courthouse." 

she simply shakes her head and buries her face back into the crook of his neck.

rafe has an affinity for grandstanding. she hardly, if ever, took him at his word, simultaneously too smart and too skeptical to make his words into something more than he meant. sometimes, he said things because he needed to know how they tasted, and others, her on-again-off-again boyfriend just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice.

he is impulsive and unreliable, and no amount of love will change that.

rafe relinquishes her wrists in favor of her neck. his palm burns the nape as it keeps her a prisoner to his greedy, electric gaze.

the dull throb mounting under his touch cannot hold a candle to the heartbeat palpitating between her thighs. major and minor, the muscles twitch in anticipation as they, too, are overwhelmed by the casual display of dominance. 

he brings her forehead to rest against his. a novel softness in his voice fans across her gently parted lips. "i know you think i'm bullshitting you, but not this time. i'm so fucking serious, kid. the proof's at home in the top right drawer of my desk."

her disbelief persists, manifesting in an uncouth snort. 

"yeah, right." 

rafe scoffs at the sarcasm-dipped quip; the unwavering effort to make his life more difficult at every turn was actually sort of endearing, he hated to admit. 

"i've had it since our graduation... just never found the right moment, i guess," he shrugs, quieter now.

rafe knows a smidge of feigned ambivalence won't detract from the heated, earnest implication beaming behind his irises. 

the claim is substantiated by her quirked-brow baiting, an act that leaves him frantically fishing for his keys.

if they’re lucky, they might make it to the driveway. 

but the stars underestimate the proprietorial hunger of the kook prince, because they get three lights from the club before rafe parks the ford by the roadside. 

────────────

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

[stolentrekblr]

Some FAQs

"I feel compelled to tell you I am pleased/angry/don't care about this!!!" I am not telling anyone how they should feel about this. While my blog title is a touch incendiary, I am tracking down the posts I find in the wild and tracing them back to their original poster. It bugs me when screenshots get reuploaded here when the original posts still exist, so I'm doing my best to track them down for you. I also wanted other people to know when their posts/art/edits/words officially escaped containment. While I'm personally irked by the behavior of taking without consent and/or credit, that doesn't mean you have to be. Your response is valid :)

"Why only Star Trek?" Focusing on Star Trek alone is already a massive undertaking. If I could do more, I might, but I am most active in the Star Trek Tumblr sphere and more capable of identifying and tracking down the original post.

"Can I send you something I found/my own post that was reuploaded?" Please do! I am but one person with a questionable attention span, and this is an ambitious undertaking. Tumblr may be the incubator of the Internet, but its search function makes finding things challenging. There is no way to automate this process that I know of.

"What's your issue with this particular Data page?" Initially, I didn't have a problem with this page. My Facebook friend had sent me a couple memes from it, so I liked the page and moved on. I assumed the page runner was just another Trekkie who made memes and reposted art. As time passed, I noticed that many of the memes that lacked credit were coming from Tumblr and from mutuals who had no idea their words/edits/art had migrated off the platform. I mentioned to a couple artists that their work had been reposted and none of them had any idea until I'd mentioned it. I noticed the page was uploading peoples' edits without credit and taking captions verbatim, and that bothered me personally. Two of my posts were lifted in a row, and I had made a couple posts on my main ( @thresholdbb ) about it. It eventually hit a point that I decided this endeavor needed its own dedicated space.

Maybe it's because I spent my entire professional career in education, repeatedly citing all of my sources and teaching students that plagiarism is wrong. Maybe it's because consent in all spaces is vitally important. Maybe it's because the page runner repeatedly solicits money via subscribers, not to mention the "Gift" button that appears in the corner of every stolen picture. It seems disingenuous to present content as your own and also profit from it. On some level, I think the page runner knows what they're doing is at the very least morally questionable/dishonest/wrong, since they do not like or reblog any of the posts they re-upload to their page. (Believe me, I spent a long time trying to track them down before starting this blog.) Far as I can tell, they do not make original posts here, but I cannot confirm this. They make a few original posts on their Facebook pages (I think there's something like 7 that all have the same MO), but they are mostly selfies soliciting money. Like do what you need to do to support your family or whatever, but stealing from people in this way is not cool IMHO.

While it is the nature of meme culture to spread them around without credit, these posts are regularly being taken from a community in which I actively participate.

"Why would they watermark my post?" From what I can gather, straight up screenshots can get nuked because they go against some term of service, but I'm not a super active poster on Facebook and cannot confirm.

"What's your goal with all this?"

Awareness - now you know if a post has broken containment, if your art has been reposted, if your edit has gone uncredited, and where the original post is so you can reblog and add your own tags for OP to read. I'll often see a post in the wild and want to add my comments on my own blog but then can't find it, so I'm doing that legwork as much as I can for the tumblr community

"What if my blog has a do not repost disclaimer on it?"

It seems reposters don't particularly care, but I do. Even when art is reposted with the username/link/credit, the two can quickly become separated if your work doesn't have a watermark because of how some people tend to repost. Let me know you have a disclaimer and I'll add it to the repost report. If you have merch or a tip jar associated with your work, let me know and I'll add that too.

"I'm concerned about Meta's AI"

You and me both. I'm not wild about the fact that tumblr users have no say in what happens to their words, art, and images on another platform. Here they at least gave us the illusion of choice that we could opt out of LLM training, but that disappears once it migrates to Facebook and other social media platforms. People's art being fed into these algorithms without their consent is a concerning trend

"Can I reblog the post and delete your screenshot from it?" Please do! Let the original post be free! In fact, I encourage you to get rid of my reblog completely.

"Why are the posts delayed?"

This page runs on a queue system because I'm not allowing this pursuit to take up my time and mental space every day

"What's your Facebook name?" Must really suck when someone is anonymously taking screenshots of your posts, uploading them somewhere else, and you don't have a say about any of it. On that note, what's your Tumblr name? Mine is @thresholdbb :)

"Why not make your own monetized page?"

I don't want to. I want to post, connect, and nerd out about Star Trek, not profit from my incessant posting. I could and might have moderate success, but it's a lot harder when the posts are original and haven't been vetted by another user base before reposting. I like the Ferengi, but I don't want to emulate them. Besides, even the Ferengi followed the Rules of Acquisition. As a side note, there is already questionable legality over profiting from a copyrighted franchise such as Star Trek, but I am not a lawyer; I'm just some brainrotted tumblr user

Also as a side note, reposters sometimes take uncredited memes and images from Tumblrs that do have monetized FB pages/tip jars that post all original content

Overall, the Trek community has a lot of good will, but in my experience that typically comes with a strong sense of justice. I'm just out here spreading the word

[media-please]

America's Suitehearts, episode 127:

'The Man that Eats Colour meets the Luckiest Man Alive'

When Donnie the Catcher loses all his colour, the Horseshoe Crab ventures into the graveyard to find the source of this monochrome mayhem.

Below is a review of the episode from the blog DoctorBBlog.org, a website that fell inactive after Mr. Benzedrine was introduced into the show:

This episode marked the introduction of 'Mr. Sandman' in the show. I think it only aired once and got loads of complaints from parents that said Sandman had terrified their children. They pulled the episode from rebroadcast but kept Sandman as a character, retconning his inability to control his colour-eating powers by the next episode- it was like he'd gone under loads of character development offscreen.

I've been searching for a copy of this episode since I started my Suitehearts collection, and I finally found a tape at a yard sale last week. None of the databases online talk about the musical number at the end- this episode contains the only song without Donnie since his introduction- it's weird to see a song without the usual ensemble.

Like every episode, I can't find any behind-the-scenes info- I was specifically interested on how they achieved the monochrome filter over Donnie- maybe it's similar to how they did it in the Wizard of Oz? Either way, the original producer is still responding to my emails with denials that the show even exists past episode 20, but I know it was never cancelled, and I will get to the bottom of what the hell is going on with this show.

I assume Sandman's colour-eating was supposed to be a metaphor for mental health- it felt like the actor wasn't really clear on the character motivations, though. It reminds me of Donnie's first episode, too- both of them seemed like they thought they were acting in a thriller as opposed to a kids show. It was freaky, too, like Sandman's fear in the scenes of not being able to control his powers felt really genuine. Uncomfortably so.

I'll upload more screenshots later, but I thought the scene of Sandman realising he won't drain Crab's colour because of the latter's luck was too sweet not to share early. I'm glad the show started making use of Crab's good fortune again, it was a real chekov's gun situation.

No news on my search for a copy of episode 21. I'm starting to think it doesn't exist.

-B

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Eternity Will Bring You Near - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary:

Wade understood that Logan was from a world where Alpha, Beta and Omega were everyday terms, not exclusive to red-pilled incel fuckheads who kept inventing new performative male genders. Wade would've been classified as a Beta. Logan, however, was an Alpha - Wade's read enough fanfiction and yaoi manga to know what that means. Though it doesn't explain why Logan keeps sniffing him.

Pairing: Alpha!Worst Wolverine/Deadpool

Genre: A/B/O, Smut, Domestic-ish

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Blood, Mild Gore/Body Horror, Masturbation, Additional warnings to be added as more chapters are uploaded.

Beginning Note: This was originally meant to be a crackfic but the bitch decided to become a multichapter project instead. I never thought I would get brain rot this severe over a movie of all things. The toxic old man yaoi really is a hell of a drug.

Cross posted to AO3

Heya kiddos- well actually no I hope you’re not kiddos. The following events aren’t exactly G-rated. Scratch that, not G-rated in the slightest. See the author’s girlfriend asked them if they had written anything gay before because and I quote “You’re the type of person I imagine would – you are very gay” and was very surprised to find her partner had, in fact, not written gay porn for a rabid audience (though they once wrote reader insert smut for one of the most rabid fan-bases – BTS anyone?). Lucky for her, the author’s autistic ass is currently hyper-fixated on my movie and has watched it twice. Now I know what you’re thinking: another re-imagining of the icon and highly erotic Honda Odyssey scene that the Tumblr girlies are going feral over? Sadly no, there are over a hundred-and-sixty interpretations of that situationship on AO3 already and the author is not up to that task. Self-conscious and insecure fuckface they are. Oh b-t-dubs, this will have mixed perspectives. So without further ado, let’s fucking do this. Maximum effort.

Deadpool didn’t imagine his epic team-up with his hero of heroes to end this way. With his noble self-sacrifice, blue anti-matter coiled around his wrist, coursing through his veins and dismantling him atom by atom and him helplessly reaching for the matter contained on the other side of this fucking bridge. No, to be honest, he imagined it ending with maybe a few drinks in a bar to celebrate victory before trying to convince Wolverine to hate fuck him. When have things ever gone his way?

You will never save the world. Ya couldn’t even save a relationship with a god damn stripper.

“Not now, flashbacks.”

Grunts of effort and pain as he was on the verge of dislocating his shoulder to just fucking reach the other fucking side. He had to save them. Give Peanut the restart he deserved. Give this world the hero it deserved. Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer’ was ringing through his ears as he knew he needed a miracle. And just like a prayer answered, Wolverine was right there with him, gripping tightly to his reaching hand and bridging the gap. He had a few precious seconds to appreciate the washboard glistening abs that were explosively -gloriously- exposed to his greedy eyes before Madonna and the pain crescendoed. Oh, what he would’ve done to at the very least get a bit of frottage from that meal of a man. Deadpool and Wolverine’s shouts of agony as energy tore through them intermingled, part of the chorus only he could hear.

White. Everything was white. Burning hot and blinding. Then there was…

Nothing. No pain. No heat. Just weightlessness.

Until his body collided with a wall with a thunk and sprawled onto the ground. He couldn’t get up immediately, his healing factor working overtime to patch up the spider webbing network of atomised damage. Once the pain was tolerable enough, Deadpool stumbled up to his feet with gritted teeth. What did people say? Pain lets you know you are still alive. Well, he was definitely alive then. The smoke and debris in the air made it hard to breathe let alone see through his mask, that wouldn’t do. Ripping the miraculously intact material off, Wade idly wondered why his clothes were fine. Did the universe decide he was too much of an eyesore to strip? Or more logically, Logan’s metal skeleton made him more conductive. Shit.

Wade scanned the destroyed room, trying to catch a glimpse of neon yellow. Panic seeped in when he couldn’t immediately spot the older mutant. Please don’t be vaporised.

“Wolvie? Peanut?!”

A groan came from across the other side of the wreckage. Groaning was good. Groaning – in this case – meant pain or annoyance, which meant functional nervous system. Good. Good. Now, how to get across. Bridge is out of the question, it’s royally fucked. Which left clambering over crumbled walls that blocked the walkways. Goal set, Wade navigated his way over to roughly where he heard the groan emanate from, muscles protesting the whole time. Bright yellow peaked out from underneath the rubble. Logan’s knee to be precise. Wade sighed.

“Maximum effort.”

Wade got to work, moving aside the bricks that had landed on top of his partner, revealing a barely lucid Wolverine and- Holy shit. Big fuck off piece of metal shelving right through the stomach. Wade was pretty sure the only reason Logan wasn’t bisected was because of those metal bones of his.

“Take a deep breath, Honey Badger, this is going to hurt worse than the reviews for the Borderlands movie. Can you believe they’ve gotten a nine percent critics score on Rotten Tomatoes while we have a seventy-eight? They weren’t too happy about all the rectal stabbings. Have they not heard of queer allegory? Though we’re ninety-five from audiences. Must be all the sexual tension between us.”

As Wade was prattling on – partly running his mouth as always and partly to distract Logan – he unsheathed his katanas and slotted them into the wound and wiggled them under the metal.

“The fuck are y’doing, Bub?” Logan seethed through gritted teeth, trying to sit up only to be pushed back down again by the merc.

See Wade wasn’t always an idiot- “Hey I take offence to that.” -but he could have a smart idea every once in a while, such as now. Knowing that he did not possess the strength to pull out - “My pull-out game is strong I’ll have you know.” - the sheet of metal, a proper application of force would allow him to lever it out. Taking turns with what katana he pushed down on, he eventually worked the shelf out far enough for him to straddle the other man’s lap and rip it out the rest of the way with a wet squelch. Next to come out were his beloved weapons which he wiped in his elbow crease then re-sheathed.

Immediately Logan’s thatched lickable abs started to knit themselves back together. And Wade couldn’t stop his hands from wandering; tracing up his chest and neck to grab those blowjob handles, lean down, and finally kiss the crotchety old fuck like he’d been dying to for the past seventy-two hours. Because in for a penny in for a pound, who knows if he’d see him again when all is said and done. Logan went stiff beneath him and Wade froze in place, knowing in his bones that he was going to get pushed off. But then Logan relaxes and his arms wrap around Wade’s waist to pull him closer, his tongue sweeps across the seem of scarred lips asking for entry. Which is enthusiastically granted. Blood and iron assaults Wade’s taste buds as teeth knock and tongues dance. Of course, being over two hundred would make Wolvie a great kisser, the man wasn’t contractually allowed a flaw under Disney. As much as Wade would have loved to carry on sloppily making out and maybe slip his hand down what remains of Logan’s suit, he knew that even though he wouldn’t mind beating the crap out of a bureaucrat with a raging hard-on, the man beneath him probably would. And so semi-reluctantly Wade broke away with a sigh, Logan’s hands shifting to lightly grasp his hips.

“We should show that motherfucker upstairs just how alive we are.”

Of course, you gays, gals, and non-binary pals know what happens after that. We march our asses up to those pencil pushers resulting in two iconic lines – one of which is an Oscar-worthy delivery of my favourite word. There were some extreme levels of sexual tension between B-15 and Peter, Logan and I regenerate my timeline meaning my plan fucking worked and Logan got to stay here. We also got a fat stack of compensation each for our efforts. Now we cut to shawarma and see things from a grumpy puppy’s perspective.

Logan knew to expect some differences between this universe and his original such as there still being living X-men. And he knew that there was the fundamental difference of a lack of secondary sexes here but the distinct absence of pheromones everywhere made the air here seem… cleaner? Almost overwhelming in its purity. The scent of pollution, of food being prepared, of dog piss on the pavement undiluted. No Alphas peacocking. No Omegas trying to suppress and get by. Just “average” people living average lives. Like what was happening in front of him.

Logan, with arms crossed over and leaning against a wall, watched in amusement (not that he’d ever admit to it) as Wade went to place his order at the shawarma place he had led him to.

“I’ll have one beedo beedo, a chocobo supreme, and a mountain boo bah. What would you like Honey Badger?” Wade asked his elbow on the counter top, head resting on his hand as his body was turned to face his partner, ignoring how the server was looking at him like he’d grown three heads.

“Sir, this is a shawarma joint, we only do shawarma here. I have no idea what a beedo beedo is-” The kid behind the counter tried to inform the ADHD-riddled regenerator only to be met with a finger over his lips as he was promptly shushed.

“We do the talking sweetums, you just be a little patient. Wolvie? Anything in mind?”

Some rest would be a good start, then a shower and bottle of whiskey. An explanation on that kiss back there. But food was a good start.

“Ignore his ramblings, he’s had multiple head injuries over the last few days. We’ll have two beef and one chicken, all the salad. Obviously tarator sauce in the beef and toum in the chicken. As for drinks, give us whatever beer y’d recommend.” Logan noticed Wade’s jaw drop out the corner of his eye as he rattled off a proper order. The kid behind the counter pushed the finger on his lips away and nodded, inputting the order and printing off the details to pass to the cook. “What? Did y’think I’d never had this before?”

Wade blinked at him, “Well… uh… to be honest yeah. Didn’t take you for the adventurist foodie type.”

“Need I remind y’of just how old I am, Bub? I was around when immigrants introduced this to the country.”

“Oh, so you’re the original trendsetter for your universe. Speaking of, I’ve seen the fanfictions and read the yaoi, did your world have fated pairs and heat cycles? Do male Omegas just have a dick and ass or do they have a vagina too? Or did they just have a vagina? Did you have to take suppressors for your ‘Alpha Ruts’ to reign in your primal instincts?” Wade’s eyes shone with curiosity as he fired off questions, “Oh are we going to have to deal with those now that you’re in residence here? Maybe I should ask that TVA lady to get you like an inter-dimensional prescription.”

Logan sighed and rubbed his face, he had been expecting this line of questioning. Honestly, he had expected them to occur in the Void after Wade got offended for being called a beta-

“What in the Andrew Taint bullshit is that? They have toxic masculinity red-pillers in your world too? And you’re one of them? For shame Logi Bear. That’s why you’re the Worst Wolverine.”

-and the subsequent misunderstanding was cleared up. At least in the Void, there were fewer witnesses.

“In order: Yes to both. Dick and Ass. Yes, it’s a pain to get by without them or a partner. And that’s all I’m telling y’because it doesn’t affect you.”

“That’s no fun. I need the juicy deets,” Suddenly Wade gasped and pointed at him, “Do you knot?! Bite on the nape of the neck? Oh, I think I might just pop a chub at this rate.”

Logan growled standing straight and emitting his pheromones on instinct, “Enough. As I said it doesn’t affect y’so y’don’t need to know.”

Silence. Finally silence. And the faintest smell of something sweet.

“Order up.”

Logan took his two beef and handed the chicken to Wade alongside a beer, his own stuffed into a jacket pocket. They sat outside the shop in silence and in the time it took for Logan to wolf down one and a half of his order, Wade had only finished half before he started talking again.

“You know, the Avengers discovered shawarma in the sacred timeline.” He said, mouth still full.

Logan glanced over at him, “They’d be lucky to have y’.”

Wade had a considering look in his eye as paused chewing then nodded. The guy still probably had his insecurities and self-doubt that Logan definitely exacerbated in the Honda. Just as they were about to take another bite, barking and the sound of scampering paws were heading right at the pair. It was that fucking dog.

“Oh~”

“Come on,” Logan groaned, head falling back.

“Fuck!” Wade threw his half-eaten wrap on the ground and began the daintiest clap Logan had ever seen done by someone other than a white girl, “Come over here my little munchkin! Yes, it’s you~. You’re a survivor.” Wade picked up the ugly little thing, squeezing her tight and kissing her on the head. “Oh, all is right in the world. Yes, it is.” Wade turned to him, eyeing him up and down, “So what are you going to do next?”

Logan shrugged, “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“That right? I’ll probably see you around,” A small smile was playing on his lips as he continued to gauge his response.

An impulsive thought wormed its way into his head, before he knew it he found himself quirking an eyebrow at the merc and proceeded to lie.

“Probably not. See y’, Bub.”

With that, he stood up and walked away as Wade continued to pet Dogpool. He threw the remains of his meal onto a table. A waste really. But all part of the plan. His pace was slow and measured, he was waiting. And when he heard the call of:

“Logan!”

He stopped, a small smile unable to be contained as Wade finally called him by his name. Not one of those childish nicknames. This had been what he was waiting to hear. He turned to face Wade, his expression schooled into a neutral facade.

“Stay with me- us.” Wade offered, pointing between himself and the dog.

Logan walked back over to him, “I thought y’shared a one-bedroom apartment with a lovely blind woman named Althea. Doesn’t sound like y’have much room for me.” Not much room in the apartment or his life. He wasn’t part of Wade’s world.

“There’s always room for one more. We have a pull-out sofa you can use. Not much privacy but it’s home. I only share a bed with Blind Al because I’ve been incredibly touch-starved since the breakup and need my bedtime cuddles.”

Logan huffed a chuckled, “That’s why I had to tie y’up, Bub.” A lie. In reality he had been planning to abandon Wade in that car. “Well, I’m not one to turn down a free roof over my head until I can sort out something more permanent.”

Before he knew it, he was following Wade to his home which was a lot closer to the TVA base and, subsequently, the shawarma shop than he had expected. Just down the street really. Meeting Al was sweet, it almost felt like being introduced to a parent back when he was a young man. And much like a mother, she swiftly turned in ire to Wade and slapped him on the arm with such precision Logan almost doubted her disability.

“Wade W. Wilson, you disappear after blowing out your birthday candles only to return with havoc in the streets and a man on your arm. You could have told us you were dating again. Peter was worried sick about you.”

It had been his birthday? The merc had spent his birthday trying to save his friends -his world – and was rewarded with a thorough verbal dressing down and a night of carnage in a car.

“Oh well, you know, it was the usual. I got abducted, told our universe was dying because someone had to go and nobly sacrifice themselves for the next generation of mutants. So then I hopped through multiple universes to find me a Wolverine who wouldn’t stab me on sight. Found this fella right here and got sent to the universal (not the studio) trash heap. Where I then proceeded to get my brain finger fucked by a bald long-nail-bedded bitch. Seriously they began at like her knuckle. Props to the costume department for that mildly disturbing detail.” Al’s inability to see didn’t stop Wade’s wild gesticulations as he described the events that happened to him. “And after a daring escape from her clutches, I had the best birthday car romp in a while. Became a real pin cushion for ‘im.” Wade sent Logan a wink.

Logan cleared his throat and avoided eye contact, a slight heat taking root in his ear at the implication behind those words. Al gagged.

“Wade, what I’m about to say is without a hint of homophobia: I don’t need to hear any more about your repulsive sex life. It’s bad enough I can hear you choking the chicken in the bathroom.”

Wade was laughing to himself as he meandered away from his now two room-mates and it was only slightly awkward until he returned with sweatpants and a tank top in hand. He shoved them into Logan’s chest along with a towel.

“Shower is through that door there,” He pointed to his right, “You reek of alcohol, blood, and Marvel H Christ knows what else. I doubt I smell much better – not like the Void had personal hygiene products lying around – but your odour can only be described as one of my twenty-eighteen suicide attempts from the second movie before I rewrote the events that triggered that spiral.” Wade looked off to the side, “You readers know which one I’m on about.” He mimicked an explosion sound as he ballooned his hands apart.

Logan was taken aback for a moment, processing that the seemingly always chipper buffoon had tried to kill himself at some point. However, he decided against acknowledging the trauma dump by just grunting his thanks. He took the offered clothes and beelined for the bathroom.

Alright fuck-os let’s focus on me again.

Shut up, Wade. I’m trying to write here.

Oh sure you are. I saw you reading other fanfics and some of my comic runs. And aren’t you on vacation now? I didn’t say you could take a break.

Sigh. Anyway…

Wade placed Mary Puppins on the floor and then immediately flopped onto the sofa, energy levels depleted and a deep set ache in his muscles. He waited for the sound of the shower starting before speaking.

“We’re not dating.”

“Not yet,” Al responded, somehow managing to give him a pointed look despite a) being blind and b) wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eyes.

“The man hates me. Stabbed me many times on many occasions – not that I didn’t enjoy it.” Wade grumbled, sinking further into his seat.

“So why is he here?”

“He had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t just let him wander the streets after I abducted him. Not after he saved me.”

“So Vanessa announces she has a new boyfriend after you’ve been separated for two years and you went and kidnapped one for yourself. That’s a new kind of fucked up, even for you Wade.”

“Yeah I know, I’m a bigger fuck up than Ryan Reynolds accepting that Green Lantern role. I don’t need reminding. Again, we’re not dating. Manage to get your hands on some White Girl Interrupted while Feige’s attention was on the Void?”

“You might not be but you like him. You haven’t introduced someone to me like that since Vanessa. I still don’t know who the fuck Feige is but yes I did.”

“Good because I need some right now. I’m guessing you’ve put it in your sex toy drawer in an attempt to deter me but Al you always fail to remember very little disgusts me.”

Wade slapped his lap as he got up, signalling the end of the conversation. He went back to the bedroom and immediately opened the aforementioned drawer, sticking his hand in he rifled through dildos and vibrators of various shapes and sizes until he found a rectangular packet. Bingo. Oh, he was so going to build a snowman. Oh wait, this is fanfiction, not a movie, Feige has no control here. Wade can just say cocaine.

You guys are going to have to use your imagination here because the author doesn’t know how to write cocaine usage because they’re a pure little munchkin who only ever smoked weed like five times and sniffed poppers once.

Hey stop interrupting or I’ll make this a T rating.

Suitably buzzed and the throbbing ache of his muscles dulled, Wade grabbed a towel and a set of PJ’s to change into after his turn in the shower. His timing was seemingly perfect as he entered the living area just as Logan stepped out of the bathroom towelling his hair roughly, a steam plume framing him in a haze with the lighting hitting just right. The clothes lent to him a tight fit as they clung to the man’s muscular frame, hugging spots that weren’t completely dry yet. Dear lord, was that a dick print? Look at the size of that thing! He needed to French kiss whoever invented grey sweats. Whoever they are or were, he hoped they were getting laid six ways to Sunday. Wade found himself thanking whatever foresight he had since the white tank went near translucent in places like the dips of Logan’s abs and the swell of his pecs. He quickly wiped away the drool on the corner of his lips.

“Nice milk cans you got there, Wolvie. Hope you didn’t use up all the hot water,” Wade commented, eyes still roving over the other’s effortlessly erotic form. That’s the World’s Sexiest Man 2008 for you.

Logan slung the towel around his shoulders, a flush to his cheeks – from heat, Wade’s comment, or ogling who knows – as he seemingly took a moment to study the merc’s face.

“Is… Is that cocaine in y’nose? Y’pupils are dilated. Are y’high?” Logan scoffed in response, eyebrows pinched together.

Wade wiped his nose, “Did you know your pupils can dilate as much as fifty-five percent when you look at something or someone you love? Because I’m loving what a feast for my eyes you are.” He approached the grouchy man and rubbed a thumb between his eyebrows, which was swiftly slapped away with a grumble, “You shouldn’t frown so much, it’ll age you faster. As much as I am all for our old man yaoi dynamics I don’t want you looking like the Old Man Logan who shotgun blasted me.”

Wade patted Logan on the arm as he squeezed past him to get entry into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He chucked the towel and change of clothes onto the bathroom’s counter top, knocking over the toothbrush pot and a few other bits. He then stripped off the red leather suit, having to peel it away as dried blood and various other bodily fluids had acted as fucking glue. Bare as the day he was born, Wade turned the shower on and fiddled with the taps to get the temperature just how he liked it. Steamy, the same way he liked his homoerotic fight scenes.

Stepping in, Wade rolled his shoulders and took a moment to let the water ease his tight muscles.

“That’s the good stuff,” he moaned softly, tilting his head back eyes closed.

After what felt like a suitable amount of time had passed, he grabbed his loofah and body wash and went to town on getting the caked-on grime off of his scarred skin. The water flowing down the drain was a murky burgundy as sand, old blood, and who knows what else was washed away.

When the water turned clear Wade decided to focus on… other things. Mainly the beefcake wearing his clothes at that very moment, the walking wet dream he was. Visions of those sweaty tits floated through his mind, making his cock – which had already been at half-mast – twitch in interest. God, he had been dying to rub one out since he woke up tied against The Wolverine. He grasped himself firmly and gave a few tugs to get fully hard before teasing over the tip. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as tried to stifle his whimpers. He worked over his shaft as he recalled how Logan had smiled during their scuffle in the Honda, how his blood had dripped onto the older man’s cheek and into his mouth – on those fangs. Logan had licked the blood off with an almost feral look in his eyes before launching him through the sun roof. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last with how pent-up he was. His grip tightened as he sped up his ministrations. He remembered the kiss after saving the multiverse as he came with an embarrassingly desperate groan. Logan had kissed him back. Had held him close. Yet when all was said and done, he had been ready to leave Wade behind. What a confusing, grumpy hunk. With a shaky exhale he turned off the shower.

Wade towelled off and got dressed. His chosen PJ’s for the night were lavender shorts and a Hello Kitty crop top. Hey – crop tops were invented by male bodybuilders to get around gym attire rules, so never let anyone tell you men can’t wear crop tops. With dramatic zeal, Wade threw open the door and strutted out of the bathroom. He was not expecting to have two pairs of hazel eyes looking right at him. One in disdain and one in… appraisal?

Laura. Laura was on his sofa. Why was she here? Oh god… did Laura hear him jerking off?!

“Oh.” Wade squeaked, mortified as his body tinged a dark red. “Hi there.”

The girl, so much like her father, grunted in response and turned away. Speaking of, Logan had yet to tear his eyes away and if Wade saw correctly, he seemed to be… sniffing?

“Enjoy y’shower, Red?” The smirking fucker asked, then gestured towards Laura, “The TVA just dropped her off. She has nowhere to crash so Althea kindly offered her y’spot on the bed.”

Wade gasped and marched round to stand in front of the pair, “What? Where am I supposed to sleep? On the floor?”

“I’m not going to make y’sleep on the floor in y’own home, Wade. Y’ll be bunking with me on the sofa.” Logan patted the free space next to him.

Wade stiffly sat down in the offered seat and whispered incredulously to the older man, “What about my bedtime cuddles?”

“I’m sure y’can make do without.” Logan deadpanned but that infuriating smirk was still plastered on his face.

It was quite the jump from it just being Wade and Al in the shitty one bed apartment to there now being four people in the space of a few hours.

Wade huffed and crossed his arms, “We need to find a bigger apartment… Anyone feel like Chinese food?”

There was a chorus of agreement. Wade took Al’s phone off the coffee table and opened up the delivery app he used most, his favourite Chinese take-out was top of the recommended list. He put in what he and Al usually ordered then passed the phone to Logan. His former eyebrows shot upwards as the bi-centenarian successfully navigated the menus and selected what he wanted. It was Laura who seemed perplexed by the menu and the food listed. It was a sweet moment, watching Logan awkwardly explain what everything was when asked. Despite being virtually strangers, there looked to be a genuine connection forming already. Kin recognising kin on that instinctual level only Wolverines can experience. Wade took the time to tell Al and Laura all about the epic battle in the streets and how they saved the world with the power of hand holding as they waited for their food to arrive.

“You know Peter will have told everyone by now that you’re back with company,” Al remarked, petting Mary Puppins who had situated herself on the elderly woman’s lap. “They’ll be over tomorrow, I just know it.”

Wade felt Logan go rigid beside him, was he worried about Negasonic and the other X-men in his makeshift family? Oh, that was going to be a weird meeting wasn’t it. Not because they’d be seeing a ghost of their Wolverine, no. Their Wolverine was still alive and kicking, after all it’s twenty-twenty-four at the moment not twenty-nine which was when his timeline’s Logan was scheduled to die. See, Wade had used that TVA device to jump forward in time and exhume his remains because for the TVA all timeline events are happening simultaneously. So these X-men would be seeing a stranger who looked like their Logan, and Logan would be seeing the faces of those he had already lost in his world knowing he was going to lose them here too. Wade made a silent vow to keep Negasonic, Yukio and Colossus away from Westchester when the time comes. He liked those ones.

…Wait. All that timey-whimey stuff meant that Paradox, the dickhead, was going to set off the Time Ripper five years before this timeline’s OG Logan was meant to die. Was he really so impatient to ‘prune’ the timeline that he wasn’t willing to waiting for the self-sacrificing fuck to actually do the thing?

“Everyone except Weasel – his actor has multiple sexual assault allegations against him and that’s not a good look for us,” Wade interjected in a most likely misguided attempt to lighten the mood. All it got him, however, was Laura and Logan staring at him. “Hey, I don’t keep people like that in my social circle. I’m a good boy. Consent is sexy and if someone doesn’t take no for an answer, stab ‘em. Solves everything.”

Laura nodded at the sagely advice then looked towards the door and stood up seconds before knocking resounded from the entry way. Wade handed her the tip money as she walked by to answer. Food secured, Wade stood up, washed up some cutlery that would be needed and handed them out as Logan helped Laura to sort out the food and Al turned on the TV – Golden Girls was already playing. They mostly ate in silence whilst Wade made comments about the episode that was met with “Shut up” from various people. It wasn’t long until Al was retiring for the night and taking Laura with her to sort some things to wear. The girl was briefly sent out with bedding, blankets and spare pillows for the sofa.

“We should probably get the bed set up, sounds like we’re in for a long day tomorrow,” Wade suggested while clearing away the take out containers.

“We should… but we still have those beers from the shawarma place. In the fridge, if y’d like to have them now,” Logan offered, collecting up the dirty cutlery to put in the already overflowing sink. He grunted at the sight of it.

Wade retrieved said beers and handed one to Logan who released a single claw and used it to pop the cap off. He then did the same to Wade’s, who found that all too attractive, he had to think of puppies being kicked to stop himself from popping a boner then and there.

“Cheers. To saving the world!” Wade toasted, clinking his bottle against Logan’s.

“To saving y’world,” Logan grumbled, immediately taking a deep swig.

“Any particular reason you wanted to share a drink with me, Peanut?” Wade asked, sitting back down on the cushion he had previously occupied, eyes following Logan as he sat on the opposite side of the sofa with legs spread. Slut.

“Deserve it after the shit we’ve been through. Not everyday people like us nearly die.” Logan answered, gesturing between them.

“Thank you, by the way, for not letting me face death alone in the end. Despite the noble sacrifice, I wasn’t lying when I said I was scared,” Wade said, shifting in his seat to bring both his feet up. It just never felt right to have them on the floor.

Logan growled, “Couldn’t exactly let y’. As I said, I had nothing left to live for. Would have left me stranded here with no fucking clue who anyone was if y’had succeeded. Asshole move on y’part.”

Wade nursed his beer as Logan spoke. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his rushed plan to save everyone. He placed his drink on the coffee table and tried looking anywhere but at the man casually spread across his sofa. Candid moments came as naturally as bottoming to him. Not at all.

“In that moment, when you offered yourself up and held that picture, I thought I needed to save those I cared about. Apparently, in the three fucking days we’ve known each other for, you became the tenth person in my world. Saving everyone meant saving you too – despite the stabbing each other.”

The silence that came afterwards made him uncomfortable, had him reaching for his beer to keep his mouth busy. He could hear Logan gulping down his before hollow glass clinking on MDF resounded through the room with an accompanying sigh. Wade finally looked at the other man, who just seemed tired. Ready to call it a night.

“What’s done is done, Bub. Just glad we both survived to see another day.” Logan pointed to the mostly full bottle in Wade’s hands, “Y’gonna finish that?”

“Oh, uh yeah. Hang on.” In a similar display to what Logan had done in that dive-bar he dragged him out of, Wade necked the bottle of beer, some of the liquid dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He impressed himself with how he managed to chug it down without needing to breathe – he thought those binge drinking muscle memories had long since faded. Once empty, Wade lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze drifted over to Logan whose eyes, which were darker than usual (but that may have been down to the lighting), were locked on Wade’s throat.

“You good there, Honey Badger?”

Logan blinked a couple of times and shook his head, “Yeah just… just lost in thought. Let’s get the bed set already.”

Wade nodded and picked up their bottles, depositing them in a plastic bag that contained other used glass items. He then manoeuvred the coffee table out of the way so Logan could pull the bedframe and mattress out. It all felt rather domestic; pulling the bottom sheet into place, setting up the blankets and pillows together. The lights were turned off and the two men got under the covers. Wade really did try to go to sleep but for all his effort he was left tossing and turning.

“Will y’quit it? Is your ADHD so severe you can’t stay still even in your sleep?” Logan groaned, arm slung over his face.

“I wasn’t lying about needing bedtime cuddles, Logi Bear,” Wade hissed back.

Logan huffed and threw the arm closest to Wade over the younger man, “Fine. Y’can cuddle this arm. But just the arm.”

“Yay!” Wade cheered, eagerly rolling onto his side and wrapping his limbs around the offered arm like it was a tree to be climbed. “Goodnight, Wolvie.”

“G’night, Bubba.”

Did he just fucking call me Bubba?!

Wade was out like a light, the physical contact anchoring his racing thoughts enough to drift off peacefully.

That’s where you’re gonna leave it? I thought we were going to Pound Town?! THIS IS RATED E DAMMIT!

This was getting too long for a oneshot Wade. You’ll still get your trip to Fuckville don’t worry. It’s not tagged slowburn. Now go the fuck to sleep and I’ll see you next chapter.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 8: Damaged Alice

Good evening everyone! Definitely lost track of time and this was later than I was going to upload but alas, here we are.

Today's is Damaged Alice. Fun fact with this: I cannot, for the life of me, find the original post I made for this fic. I have trawled my blog, searched it, manually gone through all my postings and I cannot find it. So I can't even reupload what I've already posted because I don't know what I've posted.

So I've gone in blind. This is for the New Moon-era of the fic, just kind of riffing on both sides. I had a very clear view of Alice finding herself and her history which is a very liberal and broad use of mental healthcare from the 20s, because Meyer is a twit who did zero research. We're going with the idea that Alice's doctors were racing the Italians towards new, innovative treatments for mental health and were testing their theories out on wards of the state.

There's also a lot of little details about Jasper and Alice's relationship here which I am obsessed with and are pretty much the entire reason I started this 'verse. It's the little things, I swear.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I will be catching up on my inbox tomorrow because I need 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep tonight or I might cry (again.) Ahh, the holiday season <3

---

Ithaca is quiet. That’s the best way he can describe it.

Moving is always difficult for Alice; they all blame her visions, but she thrives in routine. He always jokes that it’s not his level of control that keeps him from slipping, it’s that he hates making her move before it’s time. As Esme and Edward always remind the others, Alice needs the security and certainty of her five years in each home.

So the Cullen departure from Forks on Edward’s demand should have been disastrous. Rose and Emmett are leaving for Europe directly, which has been planned for months. Esme already has a house waiting in Ithaca that she’s been looking forward to restoring, so it seems like the best choice - right across the country with new names and stories. They can be there in a day.

Alice is stressed, but not in a bad way. She complains to Edward, that it’s not fair, and that Bella’s going to suffer. That Victoria’s still out there and this isn’t the way to deal with it. He’s hurting Bella worse doing this.

(And he can feel the guilt leaking out of her, that if things were different, Bella wouldn’t have gotten hurt. She still won’t tell him what she saw that night, before it all went sour, but Bella has a dozen stitches up her arm and a wicked bruise across her chest and now they have to leave her behind.)

Edward is grieving and despite an infinite well of affection and patience for Alice, the spike of rage when Alice tells him that he’s making things worse for Bella is enough that Jasper thinks that Edward might slap her and ends the conversation with a look.

“You have to pack, love,” he reminds her and Alice screws up her face and stomps off to her room. Edward grunts his thanks that Jasper has ended the conversation and disappears into the bowels of the house to brood.

Jasper has no illusions about his youngest brother; they will be returning to Forks. It really just depends on how long Edward can play martyr (and if it’s long enough that Bella outgrows him) or how long Victoria hides in the shadows. It’s really easier just to agree and get on with Edward’s dramatic pantomime of star-crossed lovers rather than argue with him.

Alice paces a lot, in-between packing. She hates being micromanaged, so he casually packs his things at the same time, tossing in the items that she almost always forgets but needs. Not to mention the things that she’s going to want when the stress of everything fades, and she can think clearly - there have been a few forgotten phones and more than a few forgotten laptops over the years. And Esme’s practiced at making sure certain things - particular blankets, clothing items, furniture, books - are present at every single house to prevent disaster for all of them, but especially for Alice.

(It’s 1976, and Alice is having a very, very bad day. It’s the worst one he’s ever had to handle on his own. She’s staring unseeing at the corner, trembling. She hasn’t responded to him in any way - not when he called her name, touched her hand, used his gift. Her emotions are churning to the point that he cannot separate them enough to make a difference. And there’s a blanket, an ocean blue one that Esme found at some street vendor in New Hampshire, that helps. They’ve dragged it from place to place for years, Esme carefully re-stitching the fraying edges, adding more panels to the bottom half for reinforcement. But he cannot find it and he has a sinking feeling that it has been left in Montana, tossed carelessly over a chair in his study. Everyone is away and he’s been trusted with Alice alone for the first time, he needs to fix this.)

So, somehow they manage to make it to Ithaca. Somehow, Alice stays calm - she spends the drive in the passenger seat, focused on crocheting a fall poncho that he knows is a way for her to keep her hands busy.

“You wanna talk?” He asks gently.

She shakes her head. “Uh-uh.”

He waits for the breakdown. For the panic attack, and the desperate need to cling to him for a day or two. For blank eyes and days of no words. Especially when they get to Ithaca, and the house is different. It’s a new acquisition, there’s no furniture installed yet.

But nothing.

So he shouldn’t be that shocked when, after three weeks of haunting the mostly-empty house (it’s very, very strange to be alone with Esme and Carlisle. Edward has been a fixture for so long, it’s downright bizarre for there to be only four of them), Alice takes off. There’s a sticky-note on his computer screen that he finds when he gets back from classes.

Going to Mississippi to find myself. Will be back soon. Will be careful. Love you.

(The only upside is that he gets to freak out and calm down before Esme and Carlisle get home, are informed, and he has to talk them out of a panic. All three of them panicking about Alice’s whereabouts at the same time would not have been helpful.)

// She finds herself in an abandoned hospital slated for demolition within months. There’s not much left of it - there was a fire in the 60s that wiped out the main building. Since then, it’s been left to rot, and there’s a lot of legal and media attention on the hundreds of unnamed bodies buried on its grounds.

It doesn’t feel like a place that she wants to be. Esme and Carlisle are always very clear that if she’s uncomfortable, she needs to leave. If she forces herself to stay somewhere, she’ll get upset.

(‘Upset’ is a euphemism for a lot of things. It can mean crying, it can mean biting, it can mean that she’s not going to talk for the rest of the day. Carlisle just tells her that she’s a very sensitive girl, and it’s okay. She’s doing so much better than when she first joined them, and that he’s proud of her. But sometimes it’s hard to believe that when the high school teachers and students are calling her names behind her back, telling her that she’s a burden to the Cullens. So she tries really hard not to get upset.)

Jasper is definitely upset that she went alone. It’s the first time she’s gone alone anywhere. Well, that’s not true. Jasper used to let her go places - once, he pretended they were going to Seattle for a weekend when he let her fly to New York City alone to buy a dress. He said that she could do it by herself and that it was important that she tried, in case he wasn’t around.

(She got upset at that because, frankly, the idea of Jasper not being around is the worst thought ever. He’s been around since she opened her eyes, even if it was just as pictures in her head. The moon might as well fall out of the sky if anything takes Jasper away from her.)

But this is the first time it wasn’t planned out, the first time he hasn’t known exactly where she was going, the first time she hadn’t gone over it with him and her visions to make sure it went smoothly.

It’s definitely the first time she’s been on her own for more than a day in a very long time. Sometimes she thinks that the Cullens forget that she was alone until she found them, and she was okay then.

(She wishes Jasper was here right now.)

The files she would have found at the University Hospital Library were frustratingly incomplete, but the librarian she would have asked would have told her that they ran out of funding to finish digitalizing them, and that a lot of stuff in storage from the old asylum had never even been moved - too expensive.

(And then she would have gotten caught as not being a student of the university, and there would have been a fuss because she might have remembered to bring almost everything she needed but she definitely only has her Forks High student I.D. and a Washington state driver’s license that says she’s under eighteen. It was better just to do that through very monotonous, careful visions and skip the in-person visit.)

There’s an old statue in the middle of the long grass behind a cracked and forgotten fountain, and she’s got an uncomfortable feeling that she’s seen it before, when it was taken care of. Which makes sense. She knows this is where she was before she was changed. She’s even got a short list from the internet of eight different girls that she might have been.

It takes her over an hour to navigate the hospital, because it is upsetting her. It’s dark instead, and everything is broken and rotten and forgotten. It makes her chest feel tight, and like there’s something in the dark she really, really doesn’t want to find.

(There is, but she also has to find it. James is dead and gone, and anything else in the dark she can fight herself. Plus she knows that Esme put a GPS tracker inside her necklace, and Jasper tracks her phone. She can’t get lost again, they made sure of it.)

It’s a room in the basement where she finds what she’s looking for. There’s a good inch of murky, standing water, and for a moment, she’s worried that anything she’s looking for will be destroyed. But maybe she’s lucky.

(‘B’ is at the top of the alphabet, so it s in the top drawer, where the water can’t get to. ‘Mary-Alice Brandon’ is the fourth name on her list, and the second youngest.)

The filing cabinet is rotten, and most of the files are moldy and disintegrating. Only a few of the surviving files are still legible. But she finds it in the end. It is thick and worn, but she takes it up the old stairs to the light, and spreads the pages out.

She is a child in the first photo, a girl with long black braids and wide eyes. She looks haunted and miserable, and is clutching a doll with a death-grip. Little Mary-Alice is so very young. Too young.

There are four more photographs – one of her nude as a child, bruises blooming all over her legs and torso. Then one of her older, clad in a thin hospital gown, with the most frightened eyes Alice has ever seen. Another, when she is closer to when she was changed; her hair is only a little shorter, and the way she looks at the camera is strange and not right.

The final one makes her sick. It makes her stomach twist and she doesn’t want to look at it. But she has to. It’s one that shows hideous black stitches curving along her bald skull, her eyes empty as she slumps in a wheel-chair. She is so thin in the final photograph, her bones jut from her body. There is an ugly scar on her belly and dozens of bruises all over her.

The notes are handwritten and faded, but she deciphers what she can, and they tell a hideous story that leaves her shaking – Mary-Alice Brandon. Born 28th February, 1901. Admitted September 4th 1911. State custody. Schizophrenia. Hysteria. Metrazol program. Electoplexy Protocol. Lobotomy. Hysterectomy.

(Mary-Alice Brandon died on September 4th, 1911. That’s what the internet said - pneumonia. She’s buried in Biloxi, a footnote on a family grave.)

She wants to call Jasper (“I think I was made like this, not born like this. I don’t understand.”) and have him come find her. She could except she’s not sure she can speak without screaming. She’s not even sure if she can stand up and leave.

Breathe in.

(She can’t. She stays there, trembling, all of the night, trying to wrap her head around those photographs. Trying to understand what she’s seeing, and to forget every single thing she knows about old-fashioned medicine.)

Breathe out.

(Oh. This is going to upset Carlisle a lot. Like the book on the Spanish Influenza or that whole magazine article about Rosalie’s disappearance.)

Breathe in.

(She wishes Jasper was here.)

Breathe out.

(Her head hurts so bad.)

Breathe in.

(Jasper made her a recording. He was going to spend a few days with Peter and Charlotte, and she was worried. He put it on her phone. It’s stupid and she shouldn’t need it but it always, always helps. Just Jasper calmly telling her that he loves her, and he’ll see her soon, and everything will be okay. It’s still on her phone, and her headphones are in her bag. He always reminds her to pack them, even though they don’t block everything out because they’re designed for humans. And maybe, maybe, putting them on and pressing play is what she needs. Maybe it feels like she can breathe a little more, even with those photos still spread out in front of her. One step at a time.)

Breathe out.

[pharaohbean]

dreaming of feelings, feeling the dreams

original upload: january 8th, 2025 on ao3

summary: "Following the events occurring at Paperfold University, after the Express has departed Penacony, the famous singer Robin, the Dazzling Ninja Rappa, and the cyborg cowboy Boothill encounter three unique people, all having traveled to Penacony to find something - or rather, the person who made such a thing. The facts that come out from the three of them, however, are just as interesting as the place they're looking for."

tags: Akiyama Mizuki & Shinonome Akito & Tenma Tsukasa, Boothill & Robin (Honkai: Star Rail), Boothill & Rappa (Honkai: Star Rail), Boothill & Rappa & Robin (Honkai: Star Rail) | Crossover, Penacony (Honkai: Star Rail), Post-Penacony Trailblaze Missions (Honkai: Star Rail), a lot of shenanigans happen here, but in a nutshell, wd1 trio meets robin+rappa+boothill, and madness happens from there, written for a secret santa, How Do I Tag, no beta we die like nagi + gallhager + misha, gotta get both sets of fandoms in that tag <3

warnings: boothill's typical censored swearing. yeah thats it.

author's note: i wrote this for a secret santa! i was given a few things, one of them being wd1 trio from pjsk and the penacony cast from hsr! i ended up writing. uhm. 5k in about 3 days. before vacation. yyeah! (also yes my secret santa liked it)

Paperfold University was slowly picking itself back up and returning to normal life—well, about as normal as it would get, putting a bunch of college students on a campus together.

Robin adjusted her mask and double-checked her hood, smiling underneath her mask all the while. Despite the events that had occurred when the Astral Express was on campus, everything seemed to have been resolved and even bursting with life—the music festival Caelus and Rappa helped with was surely a significant factor into the all-time high on campus. So here the interstellar vocalist was, giving the university another check-up before moving on to wherever she was needed next.

...After the Charmony Festival and Ena's Dream, Sunday had disappeared. Robin heard rumors that he boarded the Astral Express, but there was no way to get in contact with the Express now—wherever they had gone was somewhere where her messages wouldn't go through. But she couldn't do anything except hope and pray that he would be okay and that maybe out there he could find what he was looking for.

A distant melody brushed past Robin, the notes hauntingly soft. Robin stopped and lifted her head slightly to listen to the song, but it was so distant she only heard bits and pieces. So the singer began wandering around, trying to find the song as it grew stronger. She looked into every nook and cranny, trying to find the lone singer of the swelling harmony. It took some looking high and low (and quite a lot of making sure her disguise hadn't fallen in the crowds of students) before she found the singer.

Standing in front of the SoulGlad lake was a pale-pink girl, a blue ribbon tying most of her hair up into a high ponytail on the back of her head. She wore a moon-silver and dark-gray sleeveless top, with puffy light gray sleeves from her upper arm down to her wrists, decorated with silver and blue detailing. A half-skirt extended behind her, with some gray ribbon hanging on top of it, which was attached to a blue rose. She had a couple of hanging dark gray and silver belts, and dark gray lace-up boots extended up just past her knees. She had her hands folded as she sang softly, letting her voice alone convey the emotions in her song. Robin approached her but kept her distance, waiting for her to finish her song.

I can feel the loneliness in this song even though it's in a language I can't understand... but at the same time it's not a song of someone being alone, but more of someone being welcomed back after a terrible time. Robin closed her eyes to let the last of the song wash over her, smiling softly. The feeling of standing by someone and moving forward despite it all. 

The girl lowered her hands and stared up into the sky, her voice echoing no longer. Robin moved forward. "That was a very beautiful song just now."

"Ah!" The girl whipped around, then laughed awkwardly. "Ah, you heard that...? I'm not that good of a singer, I usually make music videos."

"I think your voice is lovely. You could become a singer if you wanted," Robin reassured. The girl waved her off.

"My friend could sing that song better; it's actually meant to be sung by her." The girl perked right up, a grin on her face. "Ah, where are my manners! The name's Akiyama Mizuki, but you can just call me Mizuki! It's nice to meet you..."

Robin looked around then moved in a little closer to Mizuki. "My name is Robin."

Mizuki blinked, then a light went off in their eyes. "Ohh, like—?"

Robin nodded, then put  a finger to her lips. Mizuki nodded back, giving her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me!"

Robin smiled. "So are you a traveler or a resident here in Penacony?"

"Oh, I'm a traveler." Mizuki waved Robin along, walking back into the University.

"How long are you in Penacony for?"

Mizuki hummed in thought. "I'm not sure. You see, I'm looking for something—or rather, someone."

The hunt for Evil Ninja Osaru has led the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa, back to Pinecany.

If she had time, she would go and visit the Sound Ninjas, maybe even Baseball Bat Ninja would be there, but there was no time to do so: the Dazzling Ninja was right on the tail of the Evil Ninja Osaru, and she could not lose him again!

The Dazzling Ninja Seals Rappa was putting up around this unfamiliar place (a sign listed it as "Clock Studios Theme Park"—a training ground for trainee ninjas, surely) would ensure that her archnemesis could not come back here if he was here, or ensure he could not escape if he was inside here. It had taken many years, but finally the Evil Ninja would be apprehended and the arrows of the Great Lan would descend upon him!

—Then a loud shout echoed across the place. Rappa halted her creation of a Seal and checked her surroundings—was it one of Evil Ninja Osaru's minions, like that banana headmaster? Or someone even more notorious and powerful? Rappa pulled out her weapon and readied her Dazzling: Myriad Colors Burst—whoever it was, they would face the ninjutsu of the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa!

The shout echoed again. Rappa took off as fast as she could, slingshotting past all the innocent bystanders. Whoever this evil-doer was, they would not be allowed to stand any longer. Rappa scanned the crowds, looking for her adversary. And there! A boy with golden-red hair, dressed in the white, silvers, and golds of the warrior ninjas from Amber Eras ago—the blue cape hanging off his back signified he was a warrior of high standing.

"How dare you imitate the great warrior ninjas from long ago! Dazzling Ninja, here to vanquish!" Rappa announced, launching a sneak attack on the loud foe (a technique taught to her by Ninja Hiryuu). "Dazzling: Myriad Colors Burst!"

"HAAAAAAAH?!" The boy turned around, being met by Rappa's weapon, about to attack. The boy unsheathed his sword, which quickly glowed with Imaginary power. A large flag sprung out from it and caught Rappa's ninjutsu right on it! Not a single drop of color landed on the enemy; Rappa bounced back and charged up her secret weapon—Ninjutsu Secret Technique: Dazzling Obliteration!

"Wait wait wait wait! I'm not your enemy!" The loud boy shouted, his eyes wide and he readied his flag-sword again. "Can't we talk this out?!"

Rappa paused, surveying the boy for a moment. The terrified eyes, the hesitant body language—despite his firm grip on his sword and his primed attack stance, that was surely only instinct from an attacking foe. It was then that the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa realized she had made a mistake.

"I apologize." She straightened herself, letting her collected Imaginary energy fall away. "I am the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa, and I am pursuing the Evil Ninja Osaru. I seemed to have mistaken you for a henchman of theirs." She bowed to the knight-ninja. "Forgive me, Old Knight Ninja."

The boy said nothing for a few moments; Rappa straightened herself to see his sigh as he returned his sword to its resting place. "It's okay. I suppose introductions are in order: I am!" He struck a unique ninjutsu pose Rappa had never seen before—had he studied under a different school than her, one that she wasn't aware of?—pointing high into the sky. "TENMA! TSUKASA! MEMBER OF SEKAI AND FUTURE WORLD STAR!"

Rappa nodded. "It's an honor to meet you, World Star Ninja Tsukasa. Now, what brings you here to Pinecany? Are you pursuing the Evil Ninja Osaru as well? Or someone else?"

World Star Ninja Tsukasa shook his head. "I am not pursuing a foe, but rather I am pursuing someone unknown! I do not know who they are, but I must find them! I have a special art that allows me to know who they are once I find them, so my friends and I are wandering around this dream world in search of this person!"

Rappa nodded knowingly. An unusual quest, but one that World Star Ninja Tsukasa seemed perfectly well-versed in. "If I could help you in your journey and quest in Pinecany, but I fear that I have finally cornered the Evil Ninja Osaru here in these training grounds! I cannot let up, or I will lose him."

World Star Ninja Tsukasa nodded knowingly, then gave Rappa a pitying look. "Although that may be the case, I sense no evil presence around here. I'm afraid that if you had him, he is now long gone."

"Impossible!" Rappa declared. "I put up a multitude of Dazzling Ninja Seals around the training grounds. If he were here, he could not have escaped!"

"May I see these Seals of yours?" World Star Ninja Tsukasa asked. Rappa nodded and grabbed his hand; she activated her Ninja: Runawayfast technique, the boy behind her screaming briefly before regaining his composure. "A Technique?"

"Yes, one that I made myself by harnessing the Imaginary energy gifted to me by my mentor Master Kucha. It is a very effective Technique for traveling around the cosmos and little places like these alike very quickly!"

"I see! Very impressive, Dazzling Ninja Rappa!" World Star Ninja Tsukasa exclaimed. Rappa felt her power grow slightly at the praise.

"Here we are," Rappa declared, dismissing her Ninja: Runawayfast technique. "These aren't my best work as I had to put them up quickly, but they surely have enough power to keep the Evil Ninja Osaru, especially in multitude!"

World Star Ninja Tsukasa studied her Seals very closely, humming to himself all the while. "Although your seals are very powerful, I don't think they're powerful enough for the person you are chasing down, from what I've gleaned. There's not enough emotion in your Seals, meaning that they lose their power quite quickly after creation."

"Emotion?" Rappa thought about what that could mean—although Master Kucha had taught her about emotions such as love (which was the basis for Secret Ninjutsu Technique: Aishiteru), what could World Star Ninja Tsukasa mean that her Seals didn't have enough emotion?

"It's difficult to put it in the usual terms, but let's see if I can describe it like this..." World Star Ninja Tsukasa thought hard, judging by his determined expression. "Any power needs some emotion behind it to work! If you don't put feelings into your attacks, they grow a lot weaker. Additionally, your emotions help you grow to new levels and heights, causing you to grow stronger! Your Seals are the same way—they need more emotion to retain their entrapment effect longer. Your work is perfectly fine, but without the emotion and feelings behind them, they become less of Seals and more of... pretty art. The same way that without feelings behind your attacks, they become less of attacks and more of a distraction."

So emotions are a key component to any ninja's Seals, attacks, and everything they do... Rappa supposed that it made sense—it was her endless sense of justice that led her to pursue Evil Ninja Osaru across the cosmos, and her sense of confidence that allowed her to stand for as long as she was now. "I understand, World Star Ninja Tsukasa. Thank you for your insights into this."

"Anytime!" World Star Ninja Tsukasa struck another pose. "Just another day for the WORLD FUTURE STAR! That being said," he returned to his normal stance and smiled at her, "with your archnemesis missing again, could you spare me a little bit to help find the person I'm looking for?"

Rappa thought for a moment. "It is only fair, after the help you have given me in understanding my own craft. I will help you on your quest, World Star Ninja Tsukasa!"

"Much appreciated, Dazzling Ninja Rappa! Now, let us set off!"

Man, why was he back here again? He'd tried to shrug this place off twice now, and both times had been dragged back for whatever reason. But now there was no reason for the Galaxy Ranger Boothill to be back in Penacony—Dreamflux Reef, no less. The last time he was here was during the whole Banana Debacle, when Rappa was here at the same time.

"I wonder what she's up to these days," Boothill muttered aloud. "I should give her a call when I get the chance. That girl feels like she could lose her head at any moment..."

The mechanical cowboy stopped and stared at the large garden in the distance, something the Astral Express had dug up or whatever. Someone was heading up the steps, and Boothill didn't like the vibe coming off of him. A white and blue cape with silver detailing flowed from behind him, and he wore a white tunic and pants, and black and silver boots. A scabbard hung off his side, and a black gloved hand was running itself through his orange hair.

"Something about them just ain't forking right," Boothill muttered. Without a second to delay he rushed after the person, who was near the top of the stairs already; when Boothill got to the bottom and they got to the top, the Galaxy Ranger shouted: "Oi! Get back here!"

The boy turned around to face Boothill with an annoyed expression, his olive-colored eyes staring him down. "What do you want?"

Boothill grumbled, skipping up the steps. The other rolled his eyes and continued walking; Boothill growled and, upon reaching the top of the steps, pulled out his gun and launched a warning shot at the boy's feet.

"What the hell—?!" the boy yelled, whipping around. He came face-to-face with Boothill's primed stance and loaded gun; he put a hand on his sword but Boothill tsk-tsked.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, little boy. Who are you?"

"Why do you want to know? I don't even know you!" The boy shot back, clenching his teeth and holding himself high. "You're clearly nuts, man!"

"I don't like the vibes you give off." Boothill's instincts haven't failed him this far, and he would be an idiot to stop trusting them now. "And if you don't forking confess now, you're gonna have a bigger problem, kid. So spill!"

The boy said nothing, simply staring Boothill down as his hand gripped the handle of his sword tight. His eyes were full of an unrelenting fire, a flame that was only able to burn because of all the trials and tribulations he must've had to go through—the fire in his eyes was the fire of a warrior who couldn't give up. The two of them stood in silence, a primed gun and a fast-draw sword between them. Finally, the boy sighed and loosened his grip.

"My name is Shinonome Akito. I am a wanderer. Now, who are you?"

"...Boothill. A Galaxy Ranger." Boothill grinned toothily when Akito growled. "Got something against us Rangers, eh? You're clearly someone I should just cut down now, then."

"...You Rangers are notorious for not being very forgiving. Thus, I try to stay out of your paths as much as I can." The handle's grip was tightened.

"Just you, or your friends as well?"

Silence. Then, a sigh. "Fine," Akito relented, holding up his hands. "Yes, my... coworkers and I. I am Shinonome Akito... and I am a member of SEKAI. Specifically, their third subunit Vivid BAD SQUAD. Happy?" The boy spoke through gritted teeth.

"SEKAI, huh...?" Boothill tucked away his gun, looking Akito up and down. The Galaxy Ranger knew very little about them—in fact, almost no one does. Even big-shot organizations, like the IPC and the Garden of Recollection and even the Astral Express's Data Banks didn't have much info on them past their existence and purpose. "You're the guy who believes that everyone has an inner world that's... ah fork it, what's the word?"

"A manifestation of someone's true feelings." Akito rolled his eyes. "The members of SEKAI are in charge of overseeing, recording, and preserving the Sekais of the cosmos, yes."

"So you're here 'cuz of one of those inner world thingies?"

"A new Sekai was suddenly detected here in Penacony not long ago, so I and two others were dispatched to find the owner of it. We've had no luck so far."

"And what are you gonna do to the owner?" Boothill glared at Akito. Akito glared back.

"Make a note of the owner and move on. We don't meddle with the Sekais themselves."

I don't trust this guy. He doesn't talk enough. Boothill huffed. "Whatever you say, kid. But I'm joining your investigation, alright? Non-negotiable—this place's gone through some forking bad times recently, and it doesn't need you and your friends messin' it up again."

Akito grumbled under his breath then turned around and began walking to his original destination again. Boothill cursed and followed after the member of SEKAI.

Mizuki rushed through the few people gathered up this high and barely stopped themself at the railing. They stood in awe of the dawn sky off in the distance as stars soared through the sky towards the end of the dream.

"It's so beautiful...!" Mizuki breathed. Robin walked up beside them with a smile.

"Isn't it? I come here often to see the sights like this... and..." Robin turned to the light milling behind them. "It's nice to see everyone picking themselves up again."

"Did something happen?" Mizuki wondered. They'd felt that something tremendous had happened here recently—the birth of a new Sekai was only ever more proving of such an event—but they didn't know the specifics; whatever happened to Penacony was released to the public after they, Tsukasa, and Akito had been deployed here.

"Penacony went through... a challenging time. It upheaved everything about this beautiful dream, but it brought people together in a way that only a disaster like that could." Robin closed her eyes as she thought back. Mizuki hummed, turning back to the end of the sky. Something else caught their eye, however; a floating structure off in the distance. Even from where they stood, they could feel feelings rolling off the entire building—perhaps that was where the Sekai was formed?

"What's that?" Mizuki pointed to the feelings-full building in the distance.

"That's Penacony Grand Theater. The Astral Express and... their opponent had their final battle there."

Mizuki looked at Robin, who seemed hesitant; they gave her a smile to try and cheer her up. "Hey, Robin? Can you get me in there?"

Robin smiled softly back at Mizuki. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best."

At the rate he was slaying monsters, Tsukasa was going to accidentally beat the monster-slaying challenge Saki and Toya were doing before either of them finished.

"This place is overrun with evil!" He exclaimed, twirling his flag-sword into another robot creature. "Rappa! Give it your all!" He slammed his flag into the ground, using his skill on the Dazzling Ninja. She grunted and unleashed a swarm of attacks, felling the rest of the opponents directly in their path.

"The unknown evil has been vanquished at long last," Rappa declared, pulling her hat over her eyes for a moment. Tsukasa sheathed his sword.

"At least for now. Let's keep moving forward, fellow ninja—my art is detecting something just up ahead."

It was a little weird to talk in the way he was with Rappa, but it was a good acting experience he told himself. Was Rappa acting? Tsukasa got the feeling that the answer to that was "no." But she was a useful ally nonetheless, so if talking a little weirdly meant he could keep her around then so be it! It was harder and harder to find allies outside of SEKAI nowadays.

The two of them found themselves in the reception of the Dreamscape's Reverie. Tsukasa approached the receptionist's desk, feeling the traces of true feelings grow stronger with every step—there was surely a Sekai somewhere in here, or at least a Sekai's birth place.

"My art is reacting quite strongly. Something is here!" Tsukasa threw his hand out towards the empty dream lobby. "But I cannot tell if it is the thing I am looking for..."

"I thought your art told you so?" Rappa wondered aloud. Tsukasa shrugged.

"There are many things similar to what I am looking for—many are broken pieces and aren't strong enough to become something bigger. I cannot tell the difference at first glance." Especially with no one to be found, and thus no Sekai owners. Finding this thing was going to be harder than he initially thought—maybe Akito and Mizuki were having better luck. Hopefully they were, otherwise this quest was going to be a lot more difficult.

"That's probably because Penacony is littered with Fragment Sekais," a voice echoed from the other side of the Reverie. Rappa readied herself but Tsukasa held a hand up. Out of the shadows stepped Akito, one of Tsukasa's allies, and a mechanical man who looked a lot like a cowboy. Tsukasa could feel Physical energy echo quietly off of him, and a quick glance at his scattered feelings gave Tsukasa the impression of someone who walked The Hunt.

"It's impossible to find the actual Sekai here with how many Fragment Sekais are floating around, honestly." Akito sighed.

"It's good to see you too, Akito!" Tsukasa turned to his ninja ally. "Rappa! Meet my good friend, the Fiery Ninja AKA Shinonome Akito!"

"Haah?" Akito drawled, giving Tsukasa his usual annoyed look.

"Meeting a friend of World Star Ninja Tsukasa is a moment to be proud of, the Dazzling Ninja can recognize! Pleased to meet you, Fiery Ninja Akito, I am the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa. Oh, and Lord Silvergun Shura, you're here too. Do you and Fiery Ninja Akito know each other?"

Akito and "Lord Silvergun Shura" shared a look that told Tsukasa, very reluctantly. "We're temporary traveling companions," the latter replied.

"He doesn't trust us," Akito looked at Tsukasa. The future world star sighed and shrugged.

"Can't be helped, we're not exactly sociable people. I'm not surprised that a Galaxy Ranger is wary of us."

"How do you know that?" The mechanical cowboy demanded, pulling out a gun out of nowhere and aiming at Tsukasa. Tsukasa eeped, flinching back with an awkward grin.

"You walk The Hunt, and pretty well too! It's not surprising to assume you were associated with them somehow, and you didn't exactly give off the vibe as someone from the Xianzhou Alliance, y'know...?"

The man huffed and put his gun away. "Boothill, Galaxy Ranger. You one of those SEKAI guys?"

Tsukasa nodded, then struck his signature pose. "I AM! TENMA TSUKASA! LEADER OF THE FOURTH DIVISION WONDERLANDS X SHOWTIME!"

"He's loud," Akito added. Boothill scoffed.

"World Star Ninja Tsukasa," Rappa interjected. "If this place is not the place you're looking for, then where could it possibly be?"

Tsukasa thought. "It's hard to tell... Now that I know a lot of smaller versions exist all over Penacony, it could be nigh impossible to find it." A thought struck Tsukasa as he said that aloud. "Well, there might be one! The place where the final battle of Penacony took place—something just happened here recently, correct? The Sekai would've formed—"

"Where all those feelings came to a head," Akito finished. "If the person was involved in Penacony's mess."

"Everyone was," Boothill chimed in with a bite to his voice. "The entire dream was affected. If you want a final battle, then there's only one place where that could be: Penacony Grand Theater."

The interior of Penacony Grand Theater was hauntingly empty, with only the remaining echoes of a chorus long abandoned and meant to be forgotten hanging in the grand hall of the theater. Akito could feel the vestiges of the Order throughout the hall—an Aeon meant to be long dead, yet attempted to be revived—it was impossible to miss it.

"So this is where it all ended?" Akito wondered.

"Yup, this is where that guy and his little Order revival got totally destroyed. Turns out Penacony was gonna be converted to the Order from the Harmony, but y'know, tons of problems with that idea."

"There's no doubt," Tsukasa interrupted, walking to the center of the stage. "This is where the Sekai was born."

"So probably whoever was involved in that final fight are the owners of Sekai?" Akito asked.

"Oi, what're you two gonna do now that you located this 'Sekai' of yours?" Boothill demanded.

"We need to find the owner or owners of the Sekai first, but afterwards we're just gonna leave it alone," Akito snarked back, giving Boothill a dirty look that the Galaxy Ranger returned.

"Actually, you've already found the owners of this Sekai!" A voice rang throughout the theater. "Well, mostly."

"Isn't that...?" Akito muttered.

"Mizuki?" Tsukasa called out. From on top of the stairs leading into the theater, Mizuki and another girl appeared.

"Yahoo~ Long time no see you two!" Mizuki greeted, grinning brightly.

"There's more of you?" Boothill groaned.

"What do you mean we've mostly found the owners of the Sekai?" Tsukasa asked, ignoring Akito and Boothill's impending verbal fight.

"Well, the entirety of Penacony fueled their feelings into the fight against Sunday and the Order, so probably everyone who was in Penacony at the time has a claim on the Sekai. But most likely Sunday is the official original creator of the Sekai, from what I could gather," Mizuki explained.

"It was my brother's ideals that led to Penacony almost being overtaken by the Order... if it weren't for their efforts, perhaps Penacony as we know it wouldn't exist anymore," the girl next to Mizuki bowed her head. "Oh, I should introduce myself. I'm Robin, sister to Sunday, the man who was defeated here."

The group went around in introductions, Mizuki—member of SEKAI, specifically its fifth division 25ji, Nightcord de.—being dubbed "Fashion Video Ninja Mizuki" by Rappa. Once everyone was done, Tsukasa asked, "Does anyone know where Sunday is now?"

"If I had to take a guess... he boarded the Astral Express and left with them." Robin replied. All three members of SEKAI grimaced at the mention of the Express.

"Did the Express do something to you SEKAI people?" Boothill commented. Akito sighed, folding his arms.

"It's... complicated."

"In a nutshell," Mizuki rushed forward with the conversation with a sheepish shrug, "SEKAI isn't allowed to interact with the Astral Express in any form or way."

"Not even over text?" Robin questioned.

"No form of communication. ...It's due to the Astral Express's standing when it comes to the formation of Sekais."

"Well, if he's really on the Express, there's no way for us to confirm if Sunday is the creator and owner of this Sekai," Tsukasa sighed.

"So what can be done about this thing you've been looking for if it's not here?" Rappa asked. "If you need someone else to pursue this man aboard the Express, the Dazzling Ninja AKA Rappa is ready to travel the cosmos to help World Star Ninja Tsukasa and his friends."

"No, no proxies," Akito refuted. "But the only thing we can do now is wait—now that we know this is his Sekai, we can keep an eye on it from afar. But there'll be no action with it until Sunday himself discovers it, and, well..."

"The Express has retained an all-time low Sekai discoverability rate since SEKAI was formed, to say the least," Mizuki finished. "So we'll just move on to wherever we need to go next, watching over all the Sekais we can."

"May I ask the three of you something?" Robin put a hand to her chest. "Why do you watch over these Sekais, these world manifestations of other people's feelings? Of people you don't even know?"

The three of them looked at each other, then smiled. "Because we were chosen to do so," Tsukasa replied, "because our own Sekais saved us long ago." Akito and Mizuki nodded to Tsukasa's words.

"I see. Thank you." Robin smiled back at them.

"...Well, if there's nothing else we can do, we should get going," Akito commented. "I would say 'see you later,' but I honestly don't want to see you later."

"The feeling's mutual," Boothill replied. Mizuki laughed while Tsukasa sighed.

"I hope we cross paths in the future, Rappa, and that your journey to defeat the Evil Ninja Osaru may be completed swiftly!"

"I hope your journey to find the person you're looking for is completed swiftly as well, World Star Ninja Tsukasa!" Rappa replied.

"I'll text you later, yeah?" Mizuki nudged Robin. The singer giggled and nodded.

With pleasantries (and pleasantries-adjacent), the three members of SEKAI thanked the three of them for their help and departed from the Penacony Grand Theater and Penacony as a whole.

The three of them stood there for a few moments before Rappa turned to Boothill.

"Lord Silvergun Shura," she addressed her fellow Galaxy Ranger. "Do you know what organization they're from?"

Boothill sighed. "SEKAI is a Remembrance-aligned faction that believes that some people form inner worlds known as Sekais when their true feelings are either powerful enough, or they lose their true feelings. They're so anonymous that even hotshots like the IPC and the Garden and even the Express don't know much about them outside of their existence. Didn't even know that they had divisions."

"They don't seem like bad people, they're just very careful about what they share," Robin commented.

"Bah, I still don't like 'em. Too forking cryptic for my tastes, plus I don't know what exactly they're getting up to with those Sekais."

"Well, I can always text Mizuki and ask if you'd like."

"Don't talk trash about the ninja trio from another school," Rappa berated. "From my travels with World Star Ninja Tsukasa, he and his fellow ninjas are fellow justice-hunters like you and I, Lord Silvergun Shura."

"Like the Galaxy Rangers?! Bah! More like the Stellaron Hunters, I'd say!"

The two of them launched into a bickering match, Rappa's quickfire ninja rap against Boothill's rough-edged cowboy slurs. Robin smiled as she watched them; distantly she wondered if she would ever cross paths with the members of SEKAI again, and what exactly that had in store for them and the rest of Penacony.

And I wonder... What exactly does the Astral Express mean to the organization known as SEKAI?

Astral Express Data Bank Log #14-633:

I was provided invaluable information on the Remembrance-aligned organization known as SEKAI, a group so anonymous there's less info on them than the Stellaron Hunters. According to Boothill's texts, he, Rappa, and Robin had a run-in with three of its members when they were unexpectedly in Penacony. They got to know the three of them well, and thus the following data was provided to me. Hopefully as time passes, we will come to meet more members of SEKAI.

Shinonome Akito: A member of the elusive Remembrance-aligned group known as "SEKAI," specifically a member of its third division, Vivid BAD SQUAD. A two-faced singer who specializes in street-style music and has a good taste in fashion.Combat Info: Wields a longsword with a functional microphone in its pommel that broadcasts Akito's voice; attacks with The Hunt-aligned attacks and deals Fire damage.

Tenma Tsukasa: A member of the elusive Remembrance-aligned group known as "SEKAI," specifically the leader of its fourth division, Wonderlands x Showtime. A loud and brash performer who strikes to be the greatest performer alive.Combat Info: Wields a broadsword that can summon a spectral-like flag with the sword acting as its handle; attacks with Harmony-aligned attacks and deals Imaginary damage.

Akiyama Mizuki: A member of the elusive Remembrance-aligned group known as "SEKAI," specifically a member of its fifth division, 25ji, Nightcord de. A sly and playful MV creator who seems to be hiding something from everyone.Combat Info: Wields a straightsword and is also capable of summoning components from their MVs for use in battle; attacks with Nihility-aligned attacks and deals Quantum damage.

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 19

summary: Bucky and Char are assigned to an undercover mission.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: so much angst, so much happy, so many feels. UGH. l hope you enjoy! this chapter was originally going to be twice as long, but I decided to break it into two parts so I could upload this week. thanks for reading, ilysm! let me know what you think!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________

The training room was dead quiet. 

A far cry from its usual self, with the clang of weights and movement and the occasional grunt. Now, there was just the silence, heavy and thick. Bucky and I sat on the cold floor, our breaths the only sound, his shaky and mind shallow. I hardly moved, save for the hand idly stroking his hair. The strands that had once been damp with sweat had since dried, a slight curl to them now. Hours had passed, though I barely noticed until the clock on the wall showed it was rapidly approaching midnight. My foot had nearly gone numb from the awkward angle my leg was bent underneath me. Despite the discomfort, I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to disturb Bucky now that his sobs had given way to these quiet, shuddering breaths. Especially since the alternative would be to march him back through the compound, through people who would see him and ask questions and wonder. So I kept still. I waited for the world to go to sleep. I kept my hand moving against his hair, his cheek. I felt my foot prickle and go numb. Another hour passed.

Eventually, I nudged him gently, not entirely sure if he was awake or asleep. "Let's get you up," I murmured, more to fill the silence than anything else. He moved like a robot, his eyes not really seeing, staring off into some distance I couldn’t reach. I kept a hand on his back as I tugged him to his feet. He obliged, thankfully. I knew I could carry him, but this journey would be a lot simpler with him walking under his own volition. 

We walked slowly across the gym, out into the cool night air. There wasn’t a soul to be found. I knew there were night agents scattered at their posts around the compound, but I prayed they’d mind their business tonight. We trudged down the path, Bucky’s eyes still clouded and distant, my hands holding tightly to his left arm. We got to our building, into the elevator, and eventually out the doors to our residential floor, where our friends had long since gone to sleep. A single lamp had been left on in the living area, I noticed. Probably Steve or Natasha’s doing. I had a feeling if I looked in the fridge, I’d find two plates set aside for us as well. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had much of an appetite since finding Bucky’s file. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. We crossed the living room to his door, his silence weighing down on me. It was a heavy kind of quiet, filled with the echoes of the horrors those files had dragged back into the light. I turned the knob and let us into his room. I’d never crossed the threshold before, but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what it was like. The space was clean, simple, but I didn’t allow myself to look around. Now wasn’t the time to see if I’d been right in my assumptions. I’d be nosy on some future visit, maybe when he actually invited me in. For now, I was doing what he needed. Or at least, what I would have needed if it had been my file we stumbled upon.

He stood numbly in the center of the room, still clad in his training clothes. Slowly, tenderly, I lifted his shirt over his head. I removed his clothing piece by piece, trying not to spook him. It felt important, being allowed to do this, like I was being trusted with something fragile. Under any other circumstances, having him stripped down to his underwear in front of me would have my cheeks bright red and my skin on fire…but not now. My heart ached for him. I wished I could follow that blank stare to whatever nightmare he was back in, just so I could fight it off and bring him back to me, back to this moment. Somehow it was even more unnerving to see someone so strong, so stoic, like this. He was raw and exposed and vulnerable, standing here, nearly naked in his room. I’d seen him shirtless before, but not this close. His body was defined, he looked like he was carved from stone. I lifted my hands to his chest, my fingers brushing over the ridge of scar tissue where his vibranium arm had been fused to his body. The skin was red, jagged, angry. Like they’d haphazardly put him back together. I wondered if it still hurt him. Hot tears stung my eyes as I fought back thoughts of what he’d seen, survived. I tore myself back to the moment, pushing my white-hot rage aside for the moment. 

Gently, I pushed him to sit on the edge of his bed, kneeling before him. His head hung, his eyes fixed on the floor. One by one, I put his shoes on my lap, undoing the laces and slipping them off. “I’ll be right back.” I promised, unsure if he could even hear me, wherever he’d gone in his mind.

I got the shower running, making sure it was nice and warm, before stepping back out. Looping my arm through his, I pulled him to his feet, ushering him into the already steamy bathroom. I debated whether to give him some privacy or stay, and once again –– his unseeing look kept me rooted to his side. Gently, I slid my fingertips inside the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down his legs. Thankfully, these luxurious bathrooms we each had in our rooms didn’t have shower doors, you simply walked in. Yet another feature that reminded me of my stint in Las Vegas.

I gently nudged his back, muscles taut and tense as he stepped into the stream of water. “This should help,” I murmured as it soaked his hair, running down his chest. The room had completely filled up with steam, making everything else seem even further away. Slowly, I washed his hair, taking my time and making sure the sweat and the trauma and the nightmare of a day all washed down the drain. When I was finished, I turned the water off and towel dried his hair, wiping the droplets off of his body. I kept my eyes to myself as much as possible as I worked. I didn’t exist as someone he knew, someone he’d almost kissed. I didn’t exist as someone with feelings for him or someone who hoped he felt the same way. In this moment, I existed only to keep his demons from swallowing him whole.

After finding a clean t-shirt and fresh pair of boxers and coaxing him back onto his bed, I looked over him one more time. He was massive, his muscled back showing through his shirt, nearly as tall as I was standing up while he was seated. Yet, he looked so small. 

Fuck. I hated HYDRA for what they’d done to him. For the horrors he’d seen and been forced to relive. For the monster he believed himself to be. For the brutality he’d been forced to live and now live with. For how small and fragile he looked in front of me right now. I leaned forward, my hand brushing his cheek as I pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. I prayed he didn’t see the tight fist my other hand was clenched into, tight with rage and a promise to the empire I would personally bring down.

“Goodnight, Buck. I’m only a few doors down. Call me if you need anything.”

A hand gripped my wrist as I turned to leave. Looking over my shoulder, his blue eyes met mine for the first time all night. 

“Will you stay?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. I hated the shame that flooded his eyes, that knit his brow together. This was the second time in twelve hours he’d asked me not to leave him. Whatever remained of my frozen heart melted into nothingness. Crawling onto his bed, I touched his cheek again. 

“Of course,” I breathed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

_________

Two weeks later

The room was bristling with a focused energy, screens aglow and papers shuffling as Maria Hill stood at the front, flicking through slides on the projector. The usual suspects—Steve, Natasha, Tony, Charlotte, and Bucky—were scattered around the table.

Maria’s voice was crisp as she addressed them. “The sale of stolen Stark Industries tech is scheduled to occur at the Sanctuary Resort this weekend. The mission is simple, to head off the sale, obtain evidence of the transaction, and retrieve the tech. We aren’t anticipating a need for violent intervention.”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “I’m honestly surprised, Tony, that your tech doesn’t have a self-destruct feature.”

“He saves the self-destruction for himself.” Nat winked.

Tony smirked, glancing over at her. “It does have a self-destruct feature, actually. And this one happens to have an audio transmitting feature, which is how we know exactly where they’ll be. But rather than just disarm the tech and render it useless, I thought we’d add a little flare. I want to publicly humiliate these clowns by having the sale busted wide open. I want the good name of Hammer Industries to be besmirched beyond salvation.”

Steve and Bucky locked eyes as Steve raised an eyebrow and mouthed ‘besmirched?’ Furrowing her brow, Charlotte leaned forward onto her elbows. “Let me get this straight.” She pointed at Tony. “You installed safeguards against this very situation in the tech in question. However, rather than use the safeguard for the exact reason it was created, you’d rather use SHIELD time and resources and deploy a team of the most powerful and deadly individuals on the planet to go and do that for you? All for the sake of embarrassing your competitor?”

Tony paused, pretending to think. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes, chuckling with the rest of the group. 

“As the primary benefactor of both SHIELD and the Avengers,” Tony continued. “Well, and all of you personally. For the most part, not talking to you, Moneybags,” he winked at Charlotte. “I feel entitled to using these resources for personal gain every now and again.” 

Maria continued, ignoring him, as usual. “We need two of you to go undercover at the resort to ensure the tech is secured and the buyers and sellers are apprehended. This is delicate; we can't just storm in or we risk them aborting the mission entirely.”

Steve looked over at Bucky, then at Charlotte. “I think Charlotte should go,” he said quickly. “She needs more field experience.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “And Bucky’s great undercover. His poker face is unparalleled. Plus,” She shrugged. “Steve and I are too recognizable.”

Charlotte shot them both a narrow look, catching the hint of a setup, but she stayed silent, waiting to see how Bucky would react. He simply raised his eyebrows and looked at Maria, waiting for instructions. Her stomach turned. Things around them had been…fine. Suspiciously so. After the night she’d spent with him, they never spoke of it again. She’d woken up to a mug of coffee on the nightstand and a note that simply read, ‘thank you.’ Sensing he didn’t want to talk about it, she followed his lead. Now, two weeks later, they’d simply gone back to their normal shit-talking, borderline flirtatious dynamic.

Maria looked between them. “Alright. Bucky, Charlotte, you’re on this. I’ll arrange for you to stay at a safe house nearby.”

Natasha quickly chimed in, “Actually, Maria, I was thinking we should book them a suite at the resort itself. It’s crucial they stay close, maintain a visual on the targets at all times. A successful mission could depend on proximity and their ability to act quickly, so having them on property would be prudent.”

Maria raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Very well, that makes sense. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Tony, gathering his things, couldn’t help but add, “Just remember, the mission is to catch the bad guys, not spa treatments and room service. Keep your eyes on the prize, kids.”

Charlotte chuckled, shaking her head. “No promises, Tony.”

As the others began to disperse, Natasha leaned over to Charlotte, whispering with a conspiratorial grin, “You can thank me later for the suite. Just make sure to keep the noise down, yeah?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Subtle, Nat. Very subtle.”

_________

I'm running. My heart hammers against my ribcage so fiercely I fear it might break through. The trees are a blur of green and brown, the ground beneath my feet cold and uneven. My breath forms ragged clouds in the air, mingling with the whispered German commands crackling through the earpiece:

“Verfolgen. Töten.” Track. Kill.

I want to rip the earpiece out, scream into the silence of the woods, but my body isn’t mine. It moves with mechanical precision, every step, every breath choreographed by someone else. My hands are steady, too steady for someone supposed to be human.

There’s a figure ahead, darting between the trees. I know nothing about them—age, gender, reasons for being here—only that they are my target. My mission. And like a well-oiled machine, I follow. The chase is methodical, a grotesque dance I’ve performed too many times. The programming is flawless; not once do my steps falter.

But inside, I am screaming.

I'm close now, so close I can hear their panicked breaths, see the mist they exhale. The commands in my ear grow louder, more insistent. 

“Schnell! Erledige es!” Quick! Finish it!

I raise my gun. My hand doesn’t tremble. It should tremble. Why doesn’t it tremble?

“Please,” the figure begs, turning around. Their face is blurry, indistinct, but their eyes are clear, wide with terror. They see me, truly see me, and in their eyes, I’m a monster.

I am a monster.

I squeeze the trigger. The sound is deafening, a brutal punctuation to the nightmare I’m trapped in. The figure falls, and suddenly the woods are silent, oppressively silent. I stand over them, my breaths shallow, the gun heavy in my hand.

The German commands praise me, cold and emotionless. “Gut gemacht.” Well done.

But it’s not well done. It’s horrific. I drop to my knees, the gun slipping from my grasp. I'm shaking, tears streaming down my face, mingled with sweat and dirt. My heart aches, not from the exertion, but from the sheer terror of what I’ve become. What they made me.

And then, suddenly, I'm awake, gasping for air in the darkness of my room, the remnants of the woods and the cold eyes fading into the shadows of my bedroom. My body is slick with sweat, my sheets tangled around my legs as if they too know of my guilt, my horror.

I remember everything. Every command, every mission, every life taken. And it haunts me, every single night.

________

The morning sun was bright, warming the hangar through the open bay doors as Bucky and I deposited our bags at the foot of the Quinjet ramp. Since this mission was in the United States, we didn’t have to leave at the ass crack of dawn like the previous mission, which I much preferred. Our attire was a little different, too. I adjusted the tennis dress I was wearing, a light, neutral thing that seemed more suited for a country club than a mission, but it was perfect for our cover. Bucky, in his turn, looked unexpectedly dashing in casual khaki pants and a crisp white shirt, the very picture of a man ready for a luxurious vacation and escape from his corporate empire. He’d let his facial hair grow out and slicked his hair back, a few slight changes to keep him from being recognized. The watch he wore on his right wrist had been equipped with holographic technology, the same used for the Quinjet when it went into stealth mode. While he wore it, Bucky’s metal hand appeared normal and flesh. 

They’d drawn up a loose picture of who we were supposed to be this weekend –– Mr. and Mrs. Van Damme, a childless couple from Vermont who lived off of his stock market prowess. We’d decided to end tax season with a trip out to Scottsdale, Arizona. Maria had booked the trip over email, posing as Mr. Van Damme’s office secretary and personal assistant. She’d made it clear that privacy and discretion was very important to our stay, making it clear that housekeeping services would not be required at all this weekend. I supposed it wouldn’t bode well for our ‘undercover’ shtick if some poor, unassuming housekeeper walked into our room to see the small arsenal of spyware and handguns that we’d laden our bags with.

Natasha and Steve came striding towards us, their expressions a mask barely-concealed amusement. They stopped, giving us the once-over, nodding approvingly at our transformation. 

“Look at you two,” Natasha teased, her eyes twinkling. “America’s most glamorous power couple.”

Bucky shot her a look, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t start, Nat.”

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper something that made Bucky’s eyes widen momentarily before he glanced over at me, his cheeks tinged with pink. I was dying to know what was said, but Natasha grabbed my arm, pulling me a few steps away before I could pry.

“Alright, Char,” she began, her voice low and mischievous, “you’ve got the perfect set up here. Beautiful resort, romantic dinners under the stars… If you’re planning to make a move, I’d say the universe is handing you a golden ticket.”

I felt my face heat up at her insinuation. “Nat, we’re there to work,” I murmured, although a part of me fluttered at the thought.

“Work and play don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” she winked, giving me a gentle shove back towards Bucky.

The agents around us gave a thumbs up, indicating they’d loaded our bags and completed final pre-flight checks. Walking up the ramp, I caught Bucky’s eye. He looked annoyed and slightly embarrassed, likely still processing whatever Steve had told him. I ignored it, focusing on my own jitters. 

“Ready for this?” I asked, my voice steady despite the butterflies rioting in my stomach.

Bucky nodded, his gaze intense. “Always.”

We climbed into the jet, the doors closing behind us with a soft hiss. As the engines roared to life, I settled in the co-pilot's seat next to Bucky, our arms brushing. I tried to ignore the burning on my skin from the contact, twisting the diamond ring on my finger to distract myself. 

“That’ll take some getting used to, huh?” He nodded at my hands before continuing to set us up for flight. 

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “But there are worse aspects to the job.” I held my left hand out and admired the massive stone twinkling in the sunlight. I’d intentionally not asked if the ring was real or fake, not wanting to give myself undue pressure not to lose it. In my mind, like the marriage, this ring was all for show. 

“Yeah, this shouldn’t suck.” He met my eyes and gave a half smile as we lifted off the ground. 

As the Quinjet ascended into the sky, the landscape below shrinking to miniature proportions, I wasn’t sure if the flipping in my gut was from the look or from our departure. Bucky's casual remark about the ring only added to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. 

"Personally, I hate sunshine and relaxation," I drawled, attempting to lighten the mood. “Spending a few days in one of the most gorgeous places in the world? Shitty. We should be getting hazard pay for this.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "I’d agree with the hazard pay if you were flying us," he admitted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can think of worse ways to spend this week.”

I shot him a playful glare, my heart fluttering at the sight of his smile. "First of all, fuck off," I teased, my voice betraying the nervous flutter in my chest. “Second of all, you don’t strike me as the type to sit by the pool and sip Mai Tais.”

“I prefer margaritas.” His face was stoic.

I paused, still not entirely sure when he was joking. “I…have to agree with you on that one.” 

“I like the warm weather.” He shifted us into autopilot and switched off stealth mode as we soared outside the compound’s shields. “The sun, the breeze. Anything but the cold.” 

A chill ran through me as I flashed back to the snow, the bases in Germany and Siberia. The freezing air on my cheeks, the woods, the bleak gray skies. Shaking my head, I fumbled over my words despite myself. “Yeah, I –– uh…I don’t like it either. I was kidding…before.” 

“I figured.” He shot a half smile and a sidelong look my way. 

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the air thickened, the weight of our unspoken thoughts hanging between us like a heavy fog. I stole a glance at Bucky, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the control panel, and felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest.

The memory of his breakdown in the training room haunted me, a stark reminder of the darkness lurking beneath our surface level conversations. The only kind we seemed to be able to have these days. I wanted to reach out, to offer him some semblance of comfort, but the words lodged in my throat, suffocated by the weight of my own uncertainty. He knew I was here for him, surely. He’d talk to me when he was ready. If he was ever ready. 

I knew I’d be here either way.

–––––––––

The desert sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow that lit the expansive balcony of the resort. Bucky and I sat at a secluded table near the edge, our attire blending perfectly with the affluent crowd. I had chosen a sleek black dress that toed the line between classy and slutty, while Bucky was in a dark suit that made him look like stepped out of some mafia movie. His hair was slicked back, making him look every bit the business mogul he was pretending to be.

Our target, a middle-aged man with a cropped hairstyle, nursed a drink at the bar. His casual glances around the room didn't betray his purpose here, but we knew better. We observed him discreetly, taking note of every interaction he had.

A waitress approached, her smile bright. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Van Damme. Can I start you off with some champagne?"

"Please," Bucky replied with a charming smile, sliding into his role with ease. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, playing the part of the doting husband.

As she walked away, I swirled the stem of the glass in my fingers, the ambiance of the resort making this feel almost too real. "You know," I started, a shy smile playing on my lips, "I've never actually been on a date before. This—even though it's all a cover—is kind of a first for me."

Bucky's expression softened. "Really? Well, I'm honored to be your first. Even if it's just pretend."

I laughed, the sound more nervous than I intended. "It's weird, right? After everything... I mean, how do you even start to think about dating or... connecting with anyone who doesn't know how twisted and fucked up your life has been?" I took a sip of the champagne, feeling it ignite my stomach in the best way. The air had cooled off significantly as the sun sank below the mountains in the distance.

"It's not easy," Bucky admitted, his gaze lingering on the desert view before us. "Feels like nobody could really understand unless they've been through something similar. All that stuff doesn't just go away. It’s not really something you feel like catching someone up on over dinner."

I chuckled, although it really wasn’t funny. "Yeah. In some ways, it’s nice to pretend to be someone else.” I gestured at myself, him, the table between us. “I actually enjoy it. This is what I did for months, back in Vegas. I didn’t feel like I had to explain myself or hide something, I just…became someone else. I changed my hair all the time. It felt safer, the anonymity. The lack of anyone really knowing or caring about me. I wasn’t special…and I think that’s why I loved it so much.”

Bucky gave me a half smile, sipping his champagne before leaning forward. “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where you haven’t been special.” His unwavering eye contact was unnerving. My stomach flipped. Lifting my champagne to my lips, I did what I do best –– deflected.

“See, I heard you were quite the ladies' man back in the day, and now I’m starting to believe it." I teased. “For a while, I thought Steve was losing his mind in his old age.”

Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes as he sat back in his seat. "That was a long time ago, Charlotte. I was a different person then. It all came naturally. Now..." He shrugged, looking away. "I'm far from that guy. Everything now feels like I'm learning it all over again."

“What is it they say…it’s like riding a bike?” I mused. 

“I never learned to ride a bike.” He met my eyes again. 

“Me either.” 

The moment hung between us, filled with unspoken understanding. Our eyes remained locked, and there was a depth to his gaze that made me feel like anything but his coworker.

"It's strange," I looked off across the resort grounds, the incredible scenery, "to be here, after everything. Pretending to be normal –– married, no less. You and I, having dinner like this. It’s a little ironic, no?” 

He laughed, so much so that his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Yeah, it is pretty fucking ironic.” He lifted his half-empty champagne glass. “To irony, and to my wife.” 

I raised mine and grinned as we clinked them together.  “To irony…and to my husband.”