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silentspringmemes2023-12-01 05:18 pm
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TDM NO. 1
TDM № 1 : December 2023
Part I; Chapter 1. Fires We Don't Put Out
Part I; Chapter 1. Fires We Don't Put Out
Hey, neighbor, welcome to the very first TDM for Silent Spring, a semiprivate suburban 60s horrorgame based loosely on the likes of We're Still Here, Holly Heights, and similar. Characters wake up in the uncannily idyllic early 1960s suburbia of Sweetwater, Maryland, an integrated bedroom community of Washington, DC - in the same household as a complete stranger to whom they have apparently always been married, at least according to the eerily and unwaveringly chipper neighbors who seem to know a little more than they should. This TDM will give you a place to test out the setting and get some sample threads if you're going to apply for an invite. Right now there are at least 20 slots available to the general public.
This game and its world, including this TDM, heavily feature nuclear panic, the Red Scare, conformism, sexism and restrictive gender roles, heteronormativity/gender binarism as it relates to being forced into a 'nuclear family', surveillance, gaslighting, brainwashing/propaganda, disinformation, pollution/contamination, poisoning, loss of control, and uncanny valley. IC consequences can involve anything from social shunning to sleep deprivation torture, brainwashing, and nonconsensual administration of large doses of haloperidol. These are the crux of the game and cannot be opted out of — this game offers a very specific flavor of horror and it is up to players whether or not they want to engage. The atmosphere is a dystopia, and while people can certainly bond with each other in extreme circumstances, the point of this game is not an ingame domestic AU, found family, 'adopting' other characters, etc. Although this TDM has been opened for everyone to enjoy, I ask that you be respectful of the work I've put into cultivating a very specific environment. You have full permission to borrow this setting/premise for PSLs focusing on those things.
I. National Everyone-Smile-at-One-Anotherhood Week
Maybe you were on your deathbed, taking your last gasping breaths. Maybe you had just drifted off into sleep. Or maybe you were just in the middle of another ordinary day—but whatever the case may be, you now wake staring at an unfamiliar popcorn ceiling, dressed in a coordinating pajama set or nightgown straight out of the Sears catalog. A complete stranger lies asleep beside you. Perhaps a dog or a cat you don't recognize lies sleeping on a red tartan bed on the floor behind the mahogany footboard.
This is your house, but it’s not your house: on one of the twin dressers in the room, the morning light reflects off the cover glass on a framed photograph of the two of you standing side-by-side and smiling like figures in a Norman Rockwell painting, maybe with a third, also unrecognizable younger party in the foreground between you. A Civil Defense booklet titled ”Survival Under Atomic Attack” hangs halfway off the corner of the dresser, its pages and cover curling upwards with wear atop a dogeared Macy’s Christmas catalog. The other dresser hosts a watch box and a compact radio: yours, if you’re the one wearing the coordinating flannel shirt and pants, or your new husband’s, if you’re in a babydoll-style nightie.
It’s not immediately clear if you’ve found yourself in the fifties or the sixties, at least until you throw on the robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door and head out into the driveway at some point. There you find a rolled newspaper tossed onto the concrete beside a shiny new car, dated December 1, 1960.
Prompt Details:
— All characters wake in a normal human body with any disability aids (including glasses or contact lenses) converted to the most common form of them in the 60s unless a modern development like a sip/blow powerchair is needed for them to be playable. Although cutting edge technologies like myoelectric limbs were just starting to come around at the time, they were not common and readily accessible, and therefore are not allowed.
— Characters have no powers, and regains will not happen in this game. If they biologically need something to function that is fantasy in nature (ex: have to drink blood), that need is gone and replaced with only a normal human’s needs.
— Characters will find their belongings, up to 3 items from home, around the house in normal places for each item to be: a book on the shelf, a framed photo on a flat surface, etc. Items that don’t exist in the regular universe in 1960 may not be brought (ex: gameboy, pokeball, wizard’s staff).
— Characters may bring one normal, non-livestock pet, or may meet said pet for the first time when they wake up in Sweetwater. They can also be petless.
— No items or weapons from after 1960 are allowed, and no weapons more powerful than a hunting rifle or handgun can be brought with them. One weapon per character.
This is your house, but it’s not your house: on one of the twin dressers in the room, the morning light reflects off the cover glass on a framed photograph of the two of you standing side-by-side and smiling like figures in a Norman Rockwell painting, maybe with a third, also unrecognizable younger party in the foreground between you. A Civil Defense booklet titled ”Survival Under Atomic Attack” hangs halfway off the corner of the dresser, its pages and cover curling upwards with wear atop a dogeared Macy’s Christmas catalog. The other dresser hosts a watch box and a compact radio: yours, if you’re the one wearing the coordinating flannel shirt and pants, or your new husband’s, if you’re in a babydoll-style nightie.
It’s not immediately clear if you’ve found yourself in the fifties or the sixties, at least until you throw on the robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door and head out into the driveway at some point. There you find a rolled newspaper tossed onto the concrete beside a shiny new car, dated December 1, 1960.
Prompt Details:
— All characters wake in a normal human body with any disability aids (including glasses or contact lenses) converted to the most common form of them in the 60s unless a modern development like a sip/blow powerchair is needed for them to be playable. Although cutting edge technologies like myoelectric limbs were just starting to come around at the time, they were not common and readily accessible, and therefore are not allowed.
— Characters have no powers, and regains will not happen in this game. If they biologically need something to function that is fantasy in nature (ex: have to drink blood), that need is gone and replaced with only a normal human’s needs.
— Characters will find their belongings, up to 3 items from home, around the house in normal places for each item to be: a book on the shelf, a framed photo on a flat surface, etc. Items that don’t exist in the regular universe in 1960 may not be brought (ex: gameboy, pokeball, wizard’s staff).
— Characters may bring one normal, non-livestock pet, or may meet said pet for the first time when they wake up in Sweetwater. They can also be petless.
— No items or weapons from after 1960 are allowed, and no weapons more powerful than a hunting rifle or handgun can be brought with them. One weapon per character.
II. Death of a Salesman
You haven’t had much time to acclimate to your new life—maybe a day or two at the most—before there’s a knock on your door. When you open it, a man in a hat and a brown two-piece suit smiles at you, holding a briefcase in one hand and a brand new vacuum cleaner in the other.
“Hey there! My name’s Charlie and I’m here to tell you all about the latest in vacuum technology. Is the man of the house home?”
Regardless of what you say, Charlie the vacuum salesman finds a way to barge into your home and set up his briefcase and vacuum in the center of the living room. He insists that everyone in the family join him to watch, and then the demo begins as he tells the family how inadequate their current vacuum is and how the dirt it leaves behind will make you sick and make your wife look like she can’t keep up with running the house—but if she just buys this vacuum, she’ll be the envy of all of her friends, and isn’t it great timing that there’s a Christmas special on this very unit right now?
He tells the family he’ll give them ‘a moment to think on it’ while he fills up the water canister for the steamer function in the kitchen sink. Characters can hear the faucet running and then shutting off, but the salesman doesn’t emerge with a water tank—he emerges with a butcher’s knife.
“You took too long!” He announces. “I better get to the next house!”
With that, he charges, and begins to attempt to slice or stab whoever’s closest. You’re in luck, or at least it initially seems—it’s two or maybe even three against one. But once you attack him, you’ll notice something odd—the salesman doesn’t seem to react to being sliced at or stabbed, and if your character has a gun, gunshots don’t stop or even slow him. Shooting him in the head, cutting his jugular vein, or beating him on the back of the head are the only ways to kill him - good luck!
Should your household manage to kill him before he kills you, something even stranger happens. The moment he takes his last breath, lying in a pool of his own blood, there’s a knock on the door. If characters ignore it or say “one moment please!”, the knocks get more and more vehement until the hand is practically banging on the door. If they still ignore it, the neighbor strolls around to the window and looks in to see if they’re home, cupping her hands to the glass— but doesn’t react to the dead body. Instead she just smiles brightly, gives an enthusiastic little wave, and points to the door.
When characters finally open the door to let her in, they’ll notice that she’s holding a mop and bucket, smiling brightly.
“I thought you could use a little help cleaning up the mess!”, she says, barging past just like the salesman did before her. At no point does she stop smiling, or seem to register that it’s a dead body—she just starts mopping up the pool of blood, occasionally dunking her mop into the soapy pink water of the bucket, never referring to it as anything other than the vague “the spill”.
If characters ask her for help disposing of the body, she’ll bring in her husband, a similarly cardboard figure who assists the ‘man of the house’ with digging a grave-sized hole in the back yard and dropping the body in. The next day, the ground is undisturbed.
“Hey there! My name’s Charlie and I’m here to tell you all about the latest in vacuum technology. Is the man of the house home?”
Regardless of what you say, Charlie the vacuum salesman finds a way to barge into your home and set up his briefcase and vacuum in the center of the living room. He insists that everyone in the family join him to watch, and then the demo begins as he tells the family how inadequate their current vacuum is and how the dirt it leaves behind will make you sick and make your wife look like she can’t keep up with running the house—but if she just buys this vacuum, she’ll be the envy of all of her friends, and isn’t it great timing that there’s a Christmas special on this very unit right now?
He tells the family he’ll give them ‘a moment to think on it’ while he fills up the water canister for the steamer function in the kitchen sink. Characters can hear the faucet running and then shutting off, but the salesman doesn’t emerge with a water tank—he emerges with a butcher’s knife.
“You took too long!” He announces. “I better get to the next house!”
With that, he charges, and begins to attempt to slice or stab whoever’s closest. You’re in luck, or at least it initially seems—it’s two or maybe even three against one. But once you attack him, you’ll notice something odd—the salesman doesn’t seem to react to being sliced at or stabbed, and if your character has a gun, gunshots don’t stop or even slow him. Shooting him in the head, cutting his jugular vein, or beating him on the back of the head are the only ways to kill him - good luck!
Should your household manage to kill him before he kills you, something even stranger happens. The moment he takes his last breath, lying in a pool of his own blood, there’s a knock on the door. If characters ignore it or say “one moment please!”, the knocks get more and more vehement until the hand is practically banging on the door. If they still ignore it, the neighbor strolls around to the window and looks in to see if they’re home, cupping her hands to the glass— but doesn’t react to the dead body. Instead she just smiles brightly, gives an enthusiastic little wave, and points to the door.
When characters finally open the door to let her in, they’ll notice that she’s holding a mop and bucket, smiling brightly.
“I thought you could use a little help cleaning up the mess!”, she says, barging past just like the salesman did before her. At no point does she stop smiling, or seem to register that it’s a dead body—she just starts mopping up the pool of blood, occasionally dunking her mop into the soapy pink water of the bucket, never referring to it as anything other than the vague “the spill”.
If characters ask her for help disposing of the body, she’ll bring in her husband, a similarly cardboard figure who assists the ‘man of the house’ with digging a grave-sized hole in the back yard and dropping the body in. The next day, the ground is undisturbed.
III. We'll become silhouettes
Whoa there, Neighbor! I hope you and your picturesque new family didn't get so comfortable you lost sight of the looming Red Menace. No, it's not just confined to the silver screen: the Communist threat is everywhere, maybe even in your own home—and the skies above. Around 1:15 PM on December 20th, they hear the sound: the air raid sirens clustered like bananas atop the tall poles dotting the city come to life like singing frogs on a bank, sending out long, drawn out calls in a chorus of overlapping pitches. The radios in every room crackle on as if by magic, and a man's transatlantic voice reads the announcement:
"Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message. Military authorities have advised us that an enemy attack by air is imminent. This is a red alert. You are advised to go to your nearest shelter area immediately. Find shelter. There is not time to leave the city.
Your state civil defense director has just issued the following instructions: Please remain calm. Every precaution will be taken for your protection. Keep your radio tuned to this place on the dial throughout the alert period for information. Telephone service to your home may be cut off to permit military and civil defense authorities to carry out vital operations. Do not attempt to join your family or children if they are now separated. They will be cared for where they are. Obey your civil defense warden and find shelter NOW. Take shelter in your basement or in your nearest shelter area. If you can plug in your radio in the basement, take it with you. Use a portable radio set if you have one. Otherwise turn up the volume of your radio so that you can hear it in the basement. Keep calm, don't lose your head. If you are at work, obey your civil defense authorities. Go quickly and calmly to their designated shelter. If your children are at school, they are being directed to shelter by their teachers. If you are in an automobile, pull over to the curb and then go immediately to the nearest shelter area. Do not leave your car where it will block traffic.
This station will continue to stay on the air throughout the alert period to bring you authentic information and official instructions. Stay tuned to 640 or 1240 kilocycles on your radio for official information. Refuse to listen to unauthorized rumors or broadcasts. This is your official civil defense broadcast . . . Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message . . ."
If characters are at the high school, teachers will usher them out of the classroom and down a single packed cement staircase in the direction of the basement, past a yellow and black sign on the wall over the hand railing that reads FALLOUT SHELTER. They don't visibly panic—but it's clear to almost everyone that the teachers are just as afraid as they are, if not moreso. They've simply been deliberately trained not to show it, though there is a quality to the eyes that training can never reach.
The portable emergency radios echo off of the cement floor and stacked barrels of drinking water lining the walls opposite unopened boxes of survival rations. Teachers call roll in strained voices, accounting for every student left in their care—and then, once everyone is in, the heavy metal door to the shelter is closed, shutting out the aboveground world as Principal Jones tells everyone to stay quiet so they can hear the portable radios.
Characters at home have the option of going into the basements of the homes they awoke in, which have some survival rations but hardly qualify as fully outfitted bunkers, or disregarding the civil defense office's commands and risking it to seek safety in the community fallout shelter beneath the Sweetwater Fire Department. It is up to each "couple" whether they split up or seek safety in numbers, whether they prioritize immediacy or amount of protection.
If characters decide to hunker down in the fallout shelter under the fire department, they will be joined by dozens of their terrified neighbors. Responses vary dramatically: some seem almost catatonic, as though unable to believe that the events before them are really unfolding; others weep with fear. A woman breaks free of her husband's arms, screaming that she has to get her son, but a firefighter keeps her from climbing back up the staircase more and more people stream down.
Regardless of where characters choose to shelter, they are trapped there for the next five hours, listening to the Maryland civil defense director's warning circulate over and over in the claustrophobic space. Now might be a good time to field any questions to Dick Clark, your town Civil Defense Officer and Police Chief.
—until at last, the message changes.
"Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message. Military authorities have advised us that the anticipated enemy attack has been diverted. You may now leave shelter and rejoin your families. This concludes the red alert. Your attention please . . ."
Uh oh. Hope you didn't say anything in the heat of the moment you might now regret.
"Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message. Military authorities have advised us that an enemy attack by air is imminent. This is a red alert. You are advised to go to your nearest shelter area immediately. Find shelter. There is not time to leave the city.
Your state civil defense director has just issued the following instructions: Please remain calm. Every precaution will be taken for your protection. Keep your radio tuned to this place on the dial throughout the alert period for information. Telephone service to your home may be cut off to permit military and civil defense authorities to carry out vital operations. Do not attempt to join your family or children if they are now separated. They will be cared for where they are. Obey your civil defense warden and find shelter NOW. Take shelter in your basement or in your nearest shelter area. If you can plug in your radio in the basement, take it with you. Use a portable radio set if you have one. Otherwise turn up the volume of your radio so that you can hear it in the basement. Keep calm, don't lose your head. If you are at work, obey your civil defense authorities. Go quickly and calmly to their designated shelter. If your children are at school, they are being directed to shelter by their teachers. If you are in an automobile, pull over to the curb and then go immediately to the nearest shelter area. Do not leave your car where it will block traffic.
This station will continue to stay on the air throughout the alert period to bring you authentic information and official instructions. Stay tuned to 640 or 1240 kilocycles on your radio for official information. Refuse to listen to unauthorized rumors or broadcasts. This is your official civil defense broadcast . . . Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message . . ."
If characters are at the high school, teachers will usher them out of the classroom and down a single packed cement staircase in the direction of the basement, past a yellow and black sign on the wall over the hand railing that reads FALLOUT SHELTER. They don't visibly panic—but it's clear to almost everyone that the teachers are just as afraid as they are, if not moreso. They've simply been deliberately trained not to show it, though there is a quality to the eyes that training can never reach.
The portable emergency radios echo off of the cement floor and stacked barrels of drinking water lining the walls opposite unopened boxes of survival rations. Teachers call roll in strained voices, accounting for every student left in their care—and then, once everyone is in, the heavy metal door to the shelter is closed, shutting out the aboveground world as Principal Jones tells everyone to stay quiet so they can hear the portable radios.
Characters at home have the option of going into the basements of the homes they awoke in, which have some survival rations but hardly qualify as fully outfitted bunkers, or disregarding the civil defense office's commands and risking it to seek safety in the community fallout shelter beneath the Sweetwater Fire Department. It is up to each "couple" whether they split up or seek safety in numbers, whether they prioritize immediacy or amount of protection.
If characters decide to hunker down in the fallout shelter under the fire department, they will be joined by dozens of their terrified neighbors. Responses vary dramatically: some seem almost catatonic, as though unable to believe that the events before them are really unfolding; others weep with fear. A woman breaks free of her husband's arms, screaming that she has to get her son, but a firefighter keeps her from climbing back up the staircase more and more people stream down.
Regardless of where characters choose to shelter, they are trapped there for the next five hours, listening to the Maryland civil defense director's warning circulate over and over in the claustrophobic space. Now might be a good time to field any questions to Dick Clark, your town Civil Defense Officer and Police Chief.
—until at last, the message changes.
"Your attention please. This is Ron Chapman, one of your official civil defense broadcasters with a special message. Military authorities have advised us that the anticipated enemy attack has been diverted. You may now leave shelter and rejoin your families. This concludes the red alert. Your attention please . . ."
Uh oh. Hope you didn't say anything in the heat of the moment you might now regret.
IV. There's no place like (your new) home for the holidays
What a stressful week–even if the townspeople don’t seem too phased by it. In fact, they’re acting as if nothing’s happened at all, and will laugh off any suggestion that anything different might be the case. The neighborhood Christmas party at the grand neocolonial home of HOA president Marjorie Taylor proceeds as planned on the 22nd of the month–Characters’ wardrobes, of course, already contain some cocktail attire, but if it doesn’t suit their tastes, they can find all of the latest fashions on display in the completely normal department store.
Punch made by Marjorie herself is served in a tremendous green Tupperware bowl, though those who would prefer a simple cocktail will have no trouble finding one on any of the bar carts around the house. Mistletoe dangles from the arch leading to the secluded hallway lined with doors to the guest room and downstairs bathroom, out of the sight of those who might judge a character for stealing a kiss from someone other than their new spouse. Married couples dance in the living room while their friends perch on the couch like an overloaded liferaft to watch. The air of the room is bright, jovial, loud - the red threat looms in the dark unknown beyond the windows, but for the moment, all is well. Enjoy yourself, neighbor!
Punch made by Marjorie herself is served in a tremendous green Tupperware bowl, though those who would prefer a simple cocktail will have no trouble finding one on any of the bar carts around the house. Mistletoe dangles from the arch leading to the secluded hallway lined with doors to the guest room and downstairs bathroom, out of the sight of those who might judge a character for stealing a kiss from someone other than their new spouse. Married couples dance in the living room while their friends perch on the couch like an overloaded liferaft to watch. The air of the room is bright, jovial, loud - the red threat looms in the dark unknown beyond the windows, but for the moment, all is well. Enjoy yourself, neighbor!
V. Slip a sable under the tree
Three days after Marjorie's successful neighborhood Christmas party comes Christmas morning. When characters head down the stairs (or step into the living room on the same floor, if they're the 'child' of one of the newly introduced couples), they'll find the fully decorated Christmas tree that greeted them upon their arrival now has a few presents wrapped in metallic reds and silvers resting at its base, one for each party in the household, addressed simply with From: Santa.
The catch? The wrapping paper is impossible to open, the ribbons are impossible to tie and uncut, until everyone sits down as a family and opens them together in a true representation of an old-fashioned American Christmas morning.
Characters will receive 1 extra item from their homeworld abiding by the starting inventory guidelines—but the item has to be deeply personal, and something that they're uncomfortable with others seeing... which, judging by the similar reaction their new housemates have to their own presents, almost seems to be by design. It could be a compromising photo, a piece of subversive literature, a relic of who they were and things they'd rather remain hidden... but whatever it is, they've now been seen with it.
The catch? The wrapping paper is impossible to open, the ribbons are impossible to tie and uncut, until everyone sits down as a family and opens them together in a true representation of an old-fashioned American Christmas morning.
Characters will receive 1 extra item from their homeworld abiding by the starting inventory guidelines—but the item has to be deeply personal, and something that they're uncomfortable with others seeing... which, judging by the similar reaction their new housemates have to their own presents, almost seems to be by design. It could be a compromising photo, a piece of subversive literature, a relic of who they were and things they'd rather remain hidden... but whatever it is, they've now been seen with it.
Players may keep TDM threads canon if both players are admitted, and TDMers are encouraged to play around with multiple possible family member matches. Have fun!
no subject
Me too. But probably just meat for breakfast. [He opens the fridge door again and grabs what he needs, and with one hand it might end up being beneficial to Lee with Bucky grabbing the eggs, milk, orange juice, ham, bacon and sausage one at a time and putting everything on the counter instead of the usual scooping everything he needs into his arms. Flour and maple syrup from the pantry.]
Scrambled? Over easy? [Bucky asks as he offers an empty glass and nudges the orange juice over the counter, something to drink while he waits. Everybody likes pancakes, and he can set up a pancake station while he cooks the eggs and meat. He closes fridge and pantry doors with his feet and cracks eggs with one hand into his pancake batter mixing bowl without having to fish out broken pieces of shell from the bowl, so it's safe to assume he's fairly independent.]
So. Um. I'm not very good at this. [He's turning dials on the electric stove and preheating two pans that he greases up one after the other, so he's probably not referring to making breakfast.] What. What're you doing, um. At school? Or. Are you working, or... I guess you're enlisting? [He hasn't been Lee's age in 90 years. Even if he was any good at small talk, he won't even qualify for the coolest fake dad of the year award.]
no subject
He takes the juice in hand and reads the carton as he answers:] Scrambled, I guess. [He isn't sure about "over easy," but he can figure that one out later. For now, he pours himself a glass of the juice, then sips it experimentally. He instantly decides he likes it, then downs the entire glass and pours himself another.
Sokka hasn't starved on his journey around the world. In fact, there have been several occasions where he was very well-fed. But a lot of he's had to has been whatever he and the others could scrounge up, from foraging or fishing. Before that, Sokka was the eldest male in his village for two whole years; without the men around to help with the hunting and fishing, there were times when food was very sparse. Sokka feels like being able to eat a wide variety of food on demand will never get old, because he knows exactly what it feels like when you can't.
Despite his enthusiasm for the juice, Sokka watches everything that Bucky does, taking note of how he turns on the stove and the way he arranges all of the ingredients, in case it becomes relevant for him to do the same. Sokka can cook, but his experience is cooking freshly hunted or fished game over an open campfire, not stoves that heat up with the turning of a dial.
Bucky's question is met with initial silence. Not because Bucky isn't good at small talk; if he were good at it, or if he tried to get too parental or personal, Sokka would be less inclined to continue sitting here. Sokka doesn't want a cool fake dad — he doesn't want another dad at all. He just wants to find his way back to everyone. But since he can't have that, a meal and basic questions are better than any alternatives.
Sokka only takes his time in answering because he's trying to decide how much he wants to share. The easiest way to test that Bucky truly comes from somewhere else entirely (Brooklyn) would be for Sokka to reveal a little bit of the truth and see how he reacts to it. But there's a lot that Sokka doesn't want to tell anyone — especially since he still doesn't know how he got here, or why he's here at all. He can't put everyone else in danger by running his mouth, and he can't jeopardize his chance to make it back home.]
I'm already enlisted. [It's a first step, at least, in revealing something.] Sort of. I was too young to go with my dad when he left, but it worked out because I was needed for something else. [His dad had told him that being a man is knowing where you're needed most. Sokka hadn't understood it back then, but he does now. And that's why he needs to get back.] It's a special mission.
[That skirts around all the details that would give Sokka away were Bucky to know anything about the war and the Avatar, but it offers something more concrete. Even so, he watches Bucky closely, just in case there is any sign of recognition.]
no subject
He could just sit there and glare in sullen silence, like he usually does. Sulk about what's happened and then eventually come up with some sort of ill-thought, stupid plan. Not bother with small talk or making breakfast. Wouldn't be the first time he's sunken into weeks-long self-neglect. Look, he can tell that something is very wrong about this place, about this situation they find themselves in. But he's 15% autonomous and 110% learned helplessness. He can either go crazy in a catatonic state waiting for the other shoe to drop or he can go crazy with bacon and pancakes and some kid he made up or met on a mission and probably killed without thinking twice or just crossed paths with and his own scrambled-eggs-state of what's left of his brain is fighting desperately to make sense of all this. If he chooses the latter, he gets bacon and brownie points with his therapist, so... here they are. Ladling out smaller pikelets into the second pan instead of massive pancakes. Because no one wants to see him stuff one of those in his mouth and have half of it slapping his face without being able to cut it up properly.]
You seem a little young to enlist. [It's hard not to sound like he's trivialising or being dismissive of what Lee is talking about, but Bucky is trying his best. If he could do it all over again... knowing all the damage he's done, he's not sure he would have done things the same way he did the first time around. It hadn't seemed like such a tough decision when he was young and invincible and eager to prove himself. In fact it-- was the only decision at the time. It was the right thing to do. Now it's... he sees everything in between the right and the wrong. Sharon's caustic words did have morsels of truth in them. And glancing out the kitchen window, he idly wonders how selfish it is to think about changing the past.
He clenches his teeth at the mention of 'special mission' but otherwise doesn't remark on it. It's easy to pretend to look busy, plating up bacon, ham, sausage, scrambled eggs for Lee first, presenting the plate to him before one by one providing the knife and fork, the ketchup, the salt and pepper, the bottle of maple syrup. There's also an empty side plate he slides over, and a stack of small fluffy pancakes to take from. The smell of bacon slowly starts to mix with the pot of coffee he gets started.
That's his good deed for the day crossed off his list, right? In another thousand years or so he might just be able to afford a little bit of self-forgiveness.]
Let me guess. Top secret special mission? Small crew? Could turn the tide of the war? [Bucky drizzles syrup onto his own pancakes and squirts some ketchup onto the corner of his plate, staying standing on his side of the kitchen counter. Hopefully Lee will feel safe enough to put the boomerang down and eat. It's not like Bucky had the chance to sneak any strange ingredients into their breakfast, and he's eating the same thing save for his eggs that he did over easy. He has no knife, just a fork to stab everything with. It doesn't mean he hasn't been eyeing the knives in the wooden block, but he'll only take one once he's ready to leave the kitchen.]
omg i'm sorry for that incomprehensible typo in my last tag
But it isn't the comment itself that bothers him, so much as the way he wonders if maybe it's true. Maybe he is too young, too inexperienced, too bad at planning to make such big decisions. Maybe that's why his plan failed, and his father is now sitting in a Fire Nation prison somewhere. Maybe Bucky isn't wrong — and despite everything he's accomplished and learned, there's so much Sokka still lacks.
He doesn't say any of this. He picks up his fork and holds it similarly to how he held the can opener, stabbing at his food without any finesse. He feels safe enough to eat, since he watched Bucky prepare the whole meal, and his lack of experience with a fork doesn't deter him from taking a mouthful of the bacon, and then the ham, and then the eggs tasting everything. He maintains a hold on his boomerang, but that doesn't slow him down, since Sokka is ambidextrous — not that it's immediately apparent, considering how he holds his fork. The food is good, and it almost feels like Sokka could put the boomerang down.
Almost.
He's reaching for the pancakes, eager to try some of that syrup, when Bucky speaks again, but he aborts the motion, free hand dropping to the table, his grip adjusting on his boomerang. He was halfway to changing the subject by talking about the food, but now he feels like he may have made a mistake — and said too much. A tingly feeling that travels up his spine, warning him of danger. This reaction — a hint toward recognition — is what he was worried about. It's why he's trying to test the waters. And what little sense of good humor the food had started to restore feels arrested once again.
He finishes chewing, swallows, and then looks at Bucky with a glare that he — probably doesn't deserve, considering he just made Sokka so much food, but it's not about him, or Sokka even — it's about who he has to protect.
He asks:]
What makes you guess that?
[His tone is back to its earlier state. He doesn't confirm or deny any of what Bucky guesses, but it's too close to the truth.]
don't worry i didn't even notice, this has been great btw
But he does listen to his body and give himself a break, pour himself a cup of black coffee to wash down that syrup and grease. He is watching the kid out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't go out of his way to point any idiosyncrasies or anomalies out, and for the most part just lets him be, comfort boomerang and all.]
Mmh. [He sets his coffee mug down and makes eye contact briefly, holding that stare cast his way with a dispassionate steely gaze of his own for a few seconds before he looks down at his food. He pokes at his eggs and breaks the yolk, letting the liquid gold run over his sausage and bacon.]
I've been on a few of those. Either you get sent on an impossible suicidal run by a CO or you take all the stupid with you signing up thinking you could make it because you just turned eighteen and you're cocky and bulletproof, hungry for glory and approval, eager to shoot some Nazis or-- whoever the current assholes we're fighting are, and blow some shit up. It's one thing to die a war hero - we all signed up to die for our country - but not everyone's so lucky. Congress didn't spend money on us to die; they trained us to kill. You seem like you got good instincts, kid. Just be careful with those 'special missions'. [Who knows, they might even be on one right now. Bucky shoves another piece of bacon into his mouth and keeps his gaze lowered, working through his breakfast. He's relaxed enough with the kind of quiet confidence knowing that he could take anyone in and out of the house on even in his current state, but he wants to be proven wrong about why they're here and he really doesn't want for anyone to be hurting anyone else.]
Could you kill me? Right now? With that? [Bucky tilts his head and points at the boomerang with his fork. Does Lee really think he's ready to enlist, let alone go on one of those missions?]
it has been!!! i've been enjoying their cr a ton. i hope they booby trap the house together some day
There are some people who might argue that what Sokka is doing is a suicide mission. Not because of the goal itself — if anyone can take down the Fire Lord, it's Aang — but because Sokka is a 100% boring, non-bending fifteen-year-old who has been acquiring skills in a patchwork fashion, squeezing in sword training when he isn't leading failed attacks on the Fire Nation or convincing a group of children that they have to keep to a schedule. It isn't like Sokka is ignorant of that fact; every time he throws himself in front of Katara and their friends during a fight, he knows he could die. He knows that when the time comes to rescue his father from whenever he is being held, it may end up being a one-way trip. And he knows that when they do finally face the Fire Lord, he may not survive to see Aang beat him.
But Sokka is okay with those possibilities. He doesn't want to die, but he does want to protect Katara, Aang, and Toph — he wants to save his father and make up for his mistakes. And he wants to finally put an end to the war. Those goals are far bigger and more important than his own life. He still afraid of dying, and of becoming so injured that he could never throw a boomerang again, or go on a hunt, or fish with his tribe — but he won't let that fear get in the way of what he has to do.
Being a man is knowing where you're needed most, and fighting alongside his sister and their friends is where Sokka is needed. He may not be able to bend, but if can make any difference at all in the war, then he will risk everything for it.
He eats a bite of a pancake as Bucky asks his question. Of all questions he could ask, this one doesn't bother Sokka. If he had questioned him about the details of his mission, or needled him about his experiences, or tried to draw out information about the times where Sokka failed because he wasn't good enough, it would be different. But Sokka doesn't stop chewing to answer:]
If I had to.
[He wouldn't want to, and he wouldn't do it lightly, and this isn't to say that it wouldn't weigh on him — of course it would. But Sokka is a warrior, from a tribe of warriors; that means he will do whatever it takes to protect the people he loves, even at the cost of taking a life. Sokka has been shaped by a war that has existed for longer than he was alive; he was a child when his mother was killed by Fire Nation raiders, and he grew up understanding that he had to protect his tribe. It's about survival — his own, and the survival of his family and friends.
Now, the boomerang might not be the best or cleanest way to go about it, but Sokka isn't about to reveal that he could also wield a sword, dagger, or club if need be.]
And if nothing else worked.
[Like knocking him out and escaping, or convincing him to stand down. Sokka wouldn't jump to killing, but if Bucky came at him, and Sokka couldn't do anything else — then he would have no choice.
He swallows a bite of pancake and then shoves another in his mouth.]
Just like you'd kill me, if I tried.
[Because Bucky is a warrior too. Not the kind of warrior that Sokka is, if his diction is anything to go by, but that's what comes with being trained to kill. And Sokka figures that Bucky didn't lose an arm by avoiding killing.
It's the kind of understanding that can exist between two warriors.]
I won't, as long as you don't.
and accidentally/clumsily set it off afterwards? :>
He still feels like he could snap at any moment. Still believes everything HYDRA did and didn't tell him. Still thinks the Soldier was always in there in some shape or form and just needed a bit of nudging to come out, a bit of honing by the righteous, patient hands of the scientists and technicians that turned him inside out and stripped away all his inhibitions to find the right application for all that rage.]
I'm not a killer anymore. [Although, maybe ask him again after he meets the vacuum cleaner salesman. He's going to be very frustrated over that. Like an alcoholic that's been several years sober, just managed to convince himself that he could have a normal life, then losing traction and losing sight of all of that in the blink of an eye.]
I don't want to hurt anyone. But I don't trust this place. I don't trust me in this place. [So, he hopes Lee understands. There's no hard feelings here. No expectations. Bucky's not a nice man just because he made breakfast for
fourtwo. Lee should do what he has to do - with his boomerang, with that untouched butter knife, with his bare hands if he has to - whether that's because he wants so desperately to return to his special mission or whether he finds himself having to make difficult if not impossible decisions.]they would, wouldn't they...also bucky in that tag 🥺
He takes his glass in hand and sips some of the juice, slower than his first glass, but sets it down to give Bucky a long, searching look. Up until now, Sokka hadn't really considered who Bucky might be, as an individual outside of the context of this place. At first, he was too busy looking for any sign he might attack or any glimmer of recognition that might prove knowledge of Aang and the others. Then, after easing up a little, Sokka was too busy thinking about himself — his need to escape, the responsibilities waiting for him, and the guilt that still feels so stark within him. He didn't dismiss Bucky as an individual — that's hard to do, when someone makes you breakfast — it's just that Sokka is so accustomed to most adults being unreliable or ignorant, that he didn't feel the need to fill in more blanks beyond Bucky is a soldier who makes good breakfast and most likely doesn't know about the Avatar. He also still plans on leaving very soon, so getting to know Bucky on any deep level would be a waste of time that Sokka doesn't have to spare.
Now, however, Sokka looks at him appraisingly, like he's seeing him in a new light. He doesn't know what Bucky's war was like, or what he might have lost, but Sokka understands what it is to be forever altered by war. He lost his mother to it, he lost Yue to it, and he worries he could lose the others too. Sokka conceptualizes his value in what he has to offer and in how successful he is in protecting those he cares about. And when he fails, like he did with Yue, or like he did during the eclipse, his perception of himself and his abilities ends up shifted, and it becomes difficult to see all the ways in which he adds value to his overpowered friends.
Which is to say, he doesn't understand Bucky's point of view exactly — he's missing too much context — but he gets it on some level. If nothing else, he knows what it feels like to lose a little trust in yourself.]
I don't trust this place either. [A pause.] Okay.
[A mild acknowledgement for what Bucky has just laid on the table, but the gesture that follows offers more. Sokka stands, boomerang still loosely held in hand, wipes his fingers on his weird pajamas, and then offers his arm to Bucky. The nuance of the gesture might be missed — the grasping of forearms is a Water Tribe custom — but it's a sign of respect between two warriors: a way of greeting, or sealing a deal, or acknowledging a promise.
It's Sokka's way of communicating his understanding, with respect, and reiterating his determination to do what he needs to do, in order to protect everyone and find his way back to them.]
Thank you for breakfast.
he's the nicest grumpiest too old for this bs man okay! 😡
Leave it. I'll wash up. [He has to do the frying pans and his own dishes anyway, wipe down the stove and any greasy splatter off the tiles; it's not any more of a hassle doing everything together.]
And help yourself, before you go. [Said as though Bucky owns the place. He's thinking of snooping around the house and not wandering off too far just yet until he has a better idea of where and when he's been dropped into, so he's thinking there's a high chance he'll meet with the actual homeowner. Whatever Lee takes, Bucky is confident enough in his own ability to be able to smoothe things over.
He's still eating - it's a slower affair than usual with one hand - but he does pause to turn around and open up the cupboard under the sink, grab a paper bag for Lee. He did say he wanted some supplies, didn't he? No pressure and no judgement over what Lee decides to take from the pantry or fridge, that much is evident as Bucky goes back to finishing the meat on his plate, although he might pass a comment and suggest alternative options if he notices Lee taking anything perishable from the fridge.]
as discussed!
Sokka takes the bag that Bucky offers and fills it with some cans, the strange shucking tool, and some breakfast leftovers he wraps in a napkin. He does try to bring a few items from the fridge with him, though Bucky's comment about perishables is smart, especially since Sokka has no idea how long he'll be on the road, so he opts to leave behind anything that might easily spoil. He doubles back to the room in which he woke up to find some shoes, since he now feels safe enough to do so, though he keeps his pajamas on because for all Sokka knows, that's just how people dress here.
Then he leaves without fanfare, ready to learn as much as possible about this place as possible. He plans to adopt a nomadic lifestyle similar to the one he currently lives in his world, until he finds his way back to everyone.
It lasts a grand total of forty minutes tops before Sokka is unceremoniously escorted back to the house by a fussy neighbor who was appalled to see him outside in his pajamas, on a school day, and with that haircut. Sokka tries to slip away, but she grabs his arm, leaving him with an uncomfortable decision between allowing himself to be dragged back to the house or threatening her with a boomerang. Neither of these are good choices — she's not violent, so she doesn't deserve a boomerang in her face, but also, Sokka is trying to accomplish something out here. He's learned a little in these forty minutes, but not enough to make any difference at all.
Ultimately, his desire to fit in long enough to learn more about this place wins out over his desire for freedom. He allows her to march him straight up to the door, which she pounds on, very loudly. When Bucky answers, she gives him an earful of all the wrongs that Sokka has committed by (1) existing, (2) having nice hair, and (3) being a general menace to society, which he wasn't! At all! He was just trying to explore! Sokka doesn't act chastised for her benefit; in fact, he gives her a look that makes it clear that he thinks she's less-than-intelligent, though he holds his tongue.
After she's done rambling, Sokka adds:]
There are a few of us. [He doesn't elaborate on what he means by this, though he hopes that Bucky gets what he's trying to say: they aren't the only ones who woke up in a strange place. Sokka has learned that much from his brief outing.] But sure, my hair is the problem.
[Sarcasm, because what is even happening at this point? Sokka has important things to do, and this is ridiculous.]
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They'll be able to hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs when the loud knocking rings out. Bucky had done some snooping around the house already and gotten changed by the time he opens the door. He's not a big fan of the high-waisted and tight-fitting trousers that he'll no doubt see everywhere around town, but he's wearing a short sleeved navy blue button up shirt and burgundy chinos.
He's exceedingly patient while she not-so-discreetly accuses him of being a terrible role model. No doubt there will be some rumours at church about the state of this household. But she can't get too angry with him when he's given up so much for this country and maybe he just needs some additional support. Plus, Bucky seems pleasant enough even though his eyes and his voice seem a little vacant.]
Thank you very much, ma'am. I appreciate your help. [No platitudes, no chiding Lee, no over the top performances. Just a tight grip on the edge of the door and a fake almost-grimace that might pass for the smallest of smiles as he opens the door a little wider to let Lee back in. Then he closes it behind them and although it does close a little loudly, at least it doesn't slam in her face.]
You okay? [There's a kitchen knife on the top of the shoe rack behind the door now that wasn't there before and Bucky looks to have been searching for something, but it's not very noticeable apart from a bit of a mess on the coffee table. It's not like he turned the place upside down or anything.]
How many's 'a few'? Anyone you know?
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No, I'm not okay.
[This is grumbled, a little petulantly. It's not like Sokka can go into detail on why all of this is terrible, on what's at stake back home. The fact that Sokka hasn't taken out his boomerang again shows that he has accepted that Bucky is, at least, preferable to some of the people outside; not safe, but better than the woman who dragged him around and treated him like a child. Sokka is — not just some kid! He's not Bucky's kid. But accepting that he might need to stay around Bucky a while longer doesn't mean Sokka can talk in detail about the Avatar, or his sister, or his actual dad being held captive somewhere.
Sokka rubs his eyes with the heels of hands and tries to make himself focus. Bucky's questions are good ones, and Sokka could use a sounding board anyway, so he isn't going to waste time getting caught in the weeds. Winging it did not work; this is so much bigger and so much worse than Sokka originally thought. He needs to think — and go back to being a planner.]
Four that I counted, but there are probably more. [It was easy to identify them, by passing them by and listening to their conversations.] No one that I knew. [This is a good thing, because Sokka doesn't want the others stuck here with him, but his voice still betrays a little emotion as he says it, because Sokka has never really been alone. He's never really been without Katara.]
Here.
[Sokka reaches to the back of his pajama pants and pulls out a newspaper, which he then holds out to Bucky. They need to pool their information together. Bucky has a better understanding of this place than Sokka does, so Sokka needs to share what he knows to see if any of it makes more sense to Bucky than it does to him. Also, Bucky may not have fought in his war, but he fought in a war, which means he has experience in defense. He has a knife stashed somewhere smart and he's been doing — something in Sokka's absence. Sokka might be able to use that, too.]
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Thanks. [He takes the papers and sits down in front of the coffee table to unfold them and flip through. He doesn't seem to dwell on any article for as long as he should, taking a few seconds to scan each piece as his eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper. If he'd been awake in 1960 he might have remembered some of these things happening, then maybe he would know if this place might be fake somehow. But he wasn't conscious for any significant stretch of time so he can't tell.
At least they've got a date and the rough lay of the land. Wasn't all a waste. They should probably go out and talk to the other confused people out there. If it's not just the two boys in this house, there's probably more than four displaced people here right now.]
This house is real, as far as I can tell. It's not-- I mean it's staged, but. Not bugged. No cameras. Whoever brought us here isn't watching us right now. At least, not like that. [If they've got a magic mirror or crystal ball or some shit, that is way out of Bucky's league.]
Back in the 1940s we didn't have fast fashion, so we didn't own so many clothes. [Or so many anything, really, but the clothes are something he's also been rifling through.] We didn't start dressing down until the 80s. All this is tailor made. [Bucky tugs on the hem of his shirt.] If the clothes in the room you woke up in fit you, somebody took your measurements and made you a wardrobe.
[And he should probably try some of that stuff on instead of leaving his designated home in his pajamas. It doesn't look like whoever actually owns this place is coming back anytime soon to chastise them for raiding the fridge or wearing their clothes.]
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At this point, Sokka is waffling between maintaining his tight hold on secrecy, faking it until he makes it, revealing just enough that would allow Bucky to understand that he's trying to make up for a deficit in knowledge. It's important for Sokka to make allies here. If he truly is alone, then he'll need them, and if he has to pick someone, he'd rather pick a warrior capable of making breakfast over some of the people that he saw out there. At the same time, Bucky had made it clear earlier that he doesn't trust himself in this place — they had established an understanding with each other — but isn't being upfront about important matters like that good? Isn't an understanding better than outright danger?
It shouldn't be this hard to decide, but Sokka is used to being the pessimist in his group. He would say no, absolutely not, no trusting Bucky, but he'd probably be outvoted. No one is here to outvote him now, so he has to have this argument with himself.]
That's...creepy. Really creepy. [Right on par with being kidnapped and deposited into a strange world for seemingly no reason. He looks down at his clothes, which he now knows aren't appropriate for outside wandering. He doubts Water Tribe attire would be appropriate, either.] Are we supposed to live here now? Is that what this is about?
[That's what the neighbor made it sound like — like Sokka was expected to know that, and to follow all the weird rules that apparently exist in this place. But why? Why would anyone pluck him out of his world and stick him here? Sokka can't do anything, not like the others can. He can plan a failed invasion or throw a boomerang, and he's okay with a sword, but he can't bend. He isn't the Avatar. He's no one.]
I'm not important. [Even being the son of a chief doesn't mean much in the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka isn't next in line just because his father is chief. That's not how it works.] Are you?
[He knows Bucky was in a war, but lots of people have fought in the war in his world, and plenty of them are non-benders. But maybe Bucky is special in a different way. Maybe Sokka is here by mistake.]
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I think this is our designated house. [There's pictures that he can't remember being taken, but honestly, what's new here? He can't remember shit. The clothes fit a little too well. If they really knew him they would have put him on the floor instead of on the bed, where he inevitably woke up in a panic, but. Everyone would have woken up in a bit of a panic regardless.]
Can't find the lady in the photograph, but. We probably should. [He's not mentally ready to grapple with the prospect of having a fake wife just yet, but. If there is a woman or multiple women running around town having a full on meltdown or attacking all the locals or planning her escape, they should probably. Regroup and strategise, at least.]
Um. Everyone's important. [Worst fake dad ever coming out swinging apparently. Maybe he should ask himself more often what Steve would do in this kind of situation. At least he doesn't try to fake a smile?]
But. They did take my arm. [He leaves out the whole, not a supersoldier anymore thing. The arm part is obvious, they can talk about it a lot more freely, but the latter, not so obvious. And frankly a whole lot less believable than someone ripping his arm off. He's not a scientist or a wizard, but he's pretty sure it's not possible to-- unsynthesise his blood or whatever.]
It's-- I'm a military asset. My arm is worth a quarter of a billion dollars in raw material alone. [Bucky has made some observations about Lee and how much he knows about American society in 1960, but he thinks the concept of money is so universal that Lee can understand what kind of scale they're talking about. It's kiiiiind of important for him to find his arm? But also, it's built by Wakanda, and Wakanda had a killswitch to detach it, so Wakanda probably knows it's been detached and has a way to locate it. Figuring out suburbia and getting everyone who doesn't belong here out safely is probably the top priority right now.]
We need to watch the others, see who we can talk to. Can't trust anyone else here. [So that's three things. Find the lady. Find the arm. Extract information and/or find allies, but assume that everyone's drunk the Stepford kool-aid until proven wrong. Lee's got this, right?]
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But Sokka also believes in being logical, and the logical thing to do in this situation is to find her, because she's either ally material or she isn't. It would be best to figure that out quickly and make decisions accordingly. Sokka can't let his personal feelings get in the way of any progress he's capable of making toward getting back to everyone, and that means shoving aside the issue of parents and treating this like another stepping stone in ending the war. He'll help find her.
As far as being important goes, Sokka is pretty certain that Bucky wouldn't be making that statement so easily if he realized who could have been kidnapped in Sokka's stead. Sokka has a prodigy of a waterbending sister, a friend who literally invented metalbending, and a friend who is the Avatar. Sure, he's important to his dad, and to Katara, but in the grand scheme of things, Sokka is not an important person. He's definitely not kidnap-and-bring-to-another-world important. It's not an argument he's going to have now, though, because they have other, more pressing matters to discuss, and Sokka wouldn't be able to make Bucky understand without describing Team Avatar to him, anyway.
But he does spare a comment to say:]
You're worth a lot more than me.
[Or, well, his arm is. It's worth more than Toph, even. So, you know, in the grand scheme of who is important — Sokka isn't up there with billions.
It's true that Sokka doesn't know the currency, but he doesn't need to in order to understand the magnitude of what Bucky is talking about. It's good information, because it gives Sokka a hypothesis that he can test once he speaks to others — figure out if, they, too, are worth something or have something of significant worth to offer. Sokka doesn't — his father couldn't afford a ransom even if he desperately wanted to — but there might still be a common thread that links everyone else. Or it could be something else. Figuring that out might help him figure out who is behind this.]
That's a good plan. [And it's kind of nice to have someone else doing a little planning, after Sokka botched his last one so thoroughly — even if Sokka is taking that plan and adding elements to it, including steps for finding out more about how things work around here, hopefully this time without enraging the neighbors.] We should find more weapons, too. I can make some, if we need. [Because how easy will it be to find weapons here? Aside from kitchen knives. Ask him about his spear-making skills.] But — [a little pause] do you need an arm?
[Not the arm, but an arm, in the meanwhile. Sokka doesn't know how much of a limitation that is for Bucky, but since he had one before, and doesn't have one now, he figures that could be a hindrance. And he also thinks he could volunteer an idea, if it is.
Regardless, Sokka's totally got this, even if it's a laundry list of items, and even if some of them feel a little impossible — like discovering the who, why, and how of this place. Defeating the Fire Lord also feels impossible, and Sokka's still chipping away at that. Of course, he has Aang, and everyone else, alongside with him — and he doesn't have them here. But at least he has...Bucky, his not-dad, whom he can't fully trust, but — it's a step up from having no one.]
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We should be able to buy a gun. [Which reminds him - they'll need to find some money. He isn't sure how deep this farce goes, whether he's been assigned a name, a job on top of this house and this fake family or if they'll have to figure something out. Neighbour lady did seem to believe that Lee would be enrolled at the local school so it probably isn't too farfetched to believe he might be missing work right now.]
What? An ar-- no. I'm fine. [He's managed just fine with one arm. Of course he'll miss having it, it does add some complications, and they could do without all the unnecessary, unwanted attention, but it's nothing he can't manage without.]
Do you want to go get changed? We might have to go out together. [Does he trust Lee to be able to dress himself? At least the clothing pieces were arranged in Bucky's wardrobe in roughly the correct grouping, so he expects it'll look quite similar for Lee. There shouldn't be a lot of guesswork involved.]
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Sokka has never seen a gun, but a weapon is a weapon, so it sounds good to him. Buying is certainly faster than making weapons, though Sokka has no qualms with the latter, as he has pretty extensive experience with it. It comes with being raised in the Water Tribe, and then traveling the world on limited funds. He's good at making stuff — he even made armor for Appa, and technically, he made his space sword, too — but without having to dedicate time and effort to creating weapons, he'll able to put more energy into executing on their plans.
He nods, an answer to both buying weapons and Bucky's statement that he's fine. Sokka hadn't meant to suggest that Bucky wouldn't be fine — he knows that warriors can fight, even if they are missing limbs — however Sokka is also a problem-solver and, occasionally, an inventor. He might not be able to design something worth billions, but he did design a submarine, so it wouldn't be out of his wheelhouse. He spares Bucky this explanation, since it is another skillset he'd rather keep in his pocket, anyway.]
Yeah, I probably should. [For a fleeting moment, something sheepish creeps into Sokka's expression — a shade removed from the serious expressions he's been making this whole time. He doesn't see anything wrong with these clothes — they're easy enough to move in, at least — but running out in them was a blunder, and he's trying to refrain from making too many of those. Hence, he takes Bucky up on his suggestion, and goes and changes.
When he returns, it's evident that he did manage to dress himself properly. He's wearing a blue button-up and slacks that fit him like a glove, as Bucky predicted they might, and his boomerang is sheathed and slung across his back. He tries not to, but he fidgets with the clothes, finding them to be really uncomfortable and restrictive. Barely an hour into living here, and Sokka already wants to go shopping — for something better to wear. A hint of something earnest and reflective seeps into his expression again, and it's a testament to how he feels united with Bucky in the mission at hand that he doesn't try to maintain the hardened demeanor he had employed earlier.]
I should tell you something first. Before we go.
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Bucky turns when he hears Lee's footsteps coming back, and he passes a critical eye over his outfit. The curt nod signals enough approval, hopefully, even if he just grunts and reaches out, tugging on his lapel and undoing the first two buttons. There's also no need to wear his pants up so high even though they'll find that most people will insist that that's the only acceptable way to wear trousers. Bucky tries to tug Lee's pants slightly lower so he won't be that uncomfortable with the middle seam riding all the way up his crotch. It's about as casual as he can get away with, especially since he can get away with more at his age.]
Sure. [Bucky doesn't always exude the best or warmest 'you can tell me anything' vibes. But he listens at least, and he's not chatty or interested in small talk enough to seem to be the type who can't keep secrets.]
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But Sokka doesn't do anything except stiffen a little, because these are the kinds of lessons he needs in order to fit in, and also — the clothes are really uncomfortable. Despite his knee-jerk reaction, he's glad for the help, because by the time Bucky is done, he feels better and breathes out a genuine:]
Thanks. I was suffocating.
[Dramatic, but also, a sign that Sokka is letting up a small bit around Bucky. It helps to have a shared mission, and to feel like Bucky can be relied upon to think things through — it also helps that Bucky knows enough about life in this place that Sokka can rely on him to give context clues and help with things like clothing. Which brings him to:]
I, uh — lied to you. [One direct lie, the rest was kind of skirting around the truth and lying through trying to pretend. Weirdly, this kind of feels like the time he confessed to Master Piandao that he lied to him — even though Bucky isn't his master, and even though Sokka had plenty of good reasons to lie. Maybe he feels this way because the lies could, technically, endanger them both — if Sokka's lack of knowledge about life in this place, and things like guns and cameras, get pulled out into the open. Sokka already made one blunder — he could make more. And Bucky may not be someone he can fully trust, but Sokka also doesn't want to endanger him. So:] My name isn't Lee. It's Sokka, and I'm from somewhere really different from this.
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I see. [That's-- well, it's smart isn't it? Bucky doesn't blame him. He doesn't take it personally either. He'd be more guarded over his own identity if Zemo hadn't blasted his name and his face out there to the world, made sure everyone could identify the metal-armed terrorist from a mile away. Hell, if he wasn't wearing dog tags with his name engraved around his neck. These days he just doesn't care.]
How different's 'really different'? [That's far more important to establish right now, and preferably before they leave the house. Bucky's not sure if he needs to give a crash course on not having a total meltdown shitfit out in public or attacking everyone who looks at them funny, or exactly what he's dealing with.]
I've been all over the world. You don't have to be afraid. [Of course he doesn't know anything about the Nations, or the war, or the Avatar. He's thinking Sokka might mean Japan or Mongolia or something.]
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Bucky has been all over his own world, but Sokka doesn't think he's been to the Water Tribe, or the Fire Nation, or the Earth Kingdom. He thought it was possible at first, but he had been caught up in paranoia, blinded by a strange and dangerous situation, and influenced by his experiences in the war. It's hard to break free of that, Sokka is learning, especially when he doesn't have Team Avatar to keep on track. It feels difficult to make jokes, or act silly, or deflect the seriousness of situations if there's no one to do that for. Take all that away, and that's left is Sokka, grasping a boomerang and trying to survive.
He's already gone through all the options in his head: he can't talk about how he travels around on a flying bison, because that would lead to Aang. He doesn't want to talk about bending, because he doesn't know if anyone can do that here — and he wants to find out first. His tribe feels like it should be entirely off limits, because there's no one left to defend it anymore — he doesn't want to risk bringing any attention to it. So he settles on:]
I don't know what a camera is. [He's been dying to find out, ever since Bucky mentioned it. Actually, if there weren't many more important matters to worry about, Sokka would be asking Bucky a ton of questions. Remove the incredibly creepy nature of this place, and take away Sokka's desperate desire to get back to everyone, and Sokka would consist solely of curiosity and an eagerness to learn.] Or a gun. I know what a fridge is now, and I guess polos are clothes — or a punishment. [Sokka will be anti-1960's fashion until the end of time. How is he supposed to fight in this?] But I hadn't heard of those before, either.
[Congratulations on your new not-son, Bucky. He's new to the concept of electricity and vehicles that can move without the power of bending, and he's definitely bound to upset more neighbors, but he's a quick learner who doesn't shy away from the horrors of war. (And this kind of like war, isn't it? War against whomever brought them here.) He's also discovered he really likes Bucky's pancakes, so small blessings?]
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Polos are clothes. [And Sokka must be from a lot further, or at least a lot further back, than Bucky had assumed. He doesn't actually mind showing him things slowly? But they'd be in the house all day, all week even, if they really went into everything in detail. And Sokka had seemed very eager to leave.]
I can. Try to explain anything, if you want. Not necessarily well but. Enough to get by. [But now that Bucky is mindful of this, he figures he should try to understand exactly what Sokka does and doesn't know, and cover the most important basics.
Somehow, the boomerang still doesn't really make a lot of sense? But hey, they can now do not-father-and-son things together like learning how to shoot or change a tire...]
Do you want me to-- go through things in the house or do you just want to go out for a while?
cannot wait until bucky takes him to a shooting range...and sokka shows him how to throw a boomerang
But Bucky's reaction not only demonstrates none of that, but it's also helpful, in a way that Sokka isn't used to. There have been a lot of times during his travels where he and the others needed information, or help, or even just a simple audience with someone, only to be forcefully denied. It's — kind of strange to have someone willing to be patient and walk Sokka through everything he needs to know.
They don't have that kind of time, though. Sokka doesn't have that kind of time. He shakes his head.]
I don't need that. [Not now, and hopefully not later, because Sokka doesn't want to spend any more time here than he absolutely has to. He does want to know what a camera is, but it isn't important, in the grand scheme of things.] I'll learn as we go. [He is a fast study, and he's good at extrapolating information. Technically, he grew up sheltered in the Southern Water Tribe, but he managed to learn and grow very quickly once traveled to the other nations. He can do that here, too.] But I thought you should know, in case I make a mistake. [And in case that mistake could get them taken away or imprisoned. Sokka's track record hasn't been great in that regard lately, so he's giving Bucky the knowledge he needs to intervene if it comes down to it.]
he will be so irritated with the boomerang not coming back 😒
Anyway. There are no mistakes. Only learning opportunities or whatever. But because Bucky had been shown the newspapers, he just takes an extra two minutes before gently shooing Sokka out.]
Here. Before we go. This is something you have to know. [He'd already checked out what's behind every door in the house so he makes a beeline straight for the basement shelter.] If you hear the sirens - the. Loud annoying repetitive noises, and you see everyone running. Try to get back here. [He opens the door and lets Sokka peer in to see the stairs headed down.]
Every building should have one of these. There'll be water, food, first aid supplies and a radio down there. Stay dry, stay warm, stay hydrated. Don't come out until the sirens stop. If wherever you are gets hit, there might be a fire up top. Always feel the door, like this, [Bucky demonstrates by pressing the back of his hand to the top of the door.] and make sure it's not hot before you open it. Got it?
[Sokka might have questions, but if they don't have to be answered there, they can keep talking once they've left the house.]
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sokka, after his first joyride with bucky: you HAVE to teach me how to do this
sokka, no