while I think it’s entirely possible that magnus gave simon and raphael an actual list of ingredients he actually needs for other things, I think it’s much more likely that they showed up at catarina’s with a piece of paper that just said “idk, sorry”
Robb glared as the jealousy rose, unbidden, inside him. “I’m not Theon’s keeper. he can do whatever he–” Robb’s voice died away as the next name caught him off guard. He grabbed the phone then felt his stomach roll over uncomfortably at the sight of his own brother’s naked arse on the internet. He quickly called Jon. “Who made you do it, and where do they live?” he asked. He was going to kill whoever had dared to tarnish his brother’s innocence.
“‘Trouble’ is my middle name,” Vince murmured a joke, but the crooked grin on his face didn’t last long–he gave a quick glance over his shoulder, grimaced, then looked back to the woman. “Nothing weird, I swear. Friend of mine over there wants something I’ve got. Figures the best way to get it is to catch me alone, so all I need is a witness who he thinks’ll care if I get jumped.” He also shifted closer to match his rescuer’s body language, praying he looked as convincing as she did. Acting never was his strong suit.
The young man’s voice shifted from a strained whisper to an announcement. Vince shoved his hands into his pockets and stared hard into the woman’s face in an attempt to seem natural. “Yeah, ‘been a while’ is right! What, uh–what’s the family up to these days, huh? How’s that granddad of yours?”
She couldn’t help but grin a bit at his first joke, amusement coloring her features. Well, he had a sense of humor at least, and that was something she could appreciate. Figuring she could ask him about this friend of his after they were in the clear, Victoria tucked her curiosity away and raised her voice as well.
“Pops? Oh he’s doing just as well as you can imagine, still trying to save every stray in the wastes. But oh, gracious, you’ve missed so much.” She lifted a hand, gently resting it on his arm in a casual, friendly gesture. “Why don’t you come get a drink with me so we can catch up? I can only imagine you’ve got some stories to tell me, too.”
Warmth bled in her words, selling her part with ease. Acting had become a skill of hers out of necessity, years of playing pretend giving her an upper-hand in deception.
Naoto lets out a low groan as she stares at the piles and piles and piles of notecards and papers that have amassed before her, spread across three tables. There are a few highlighters scattered about, with sticky notes protruding from what seems to be every page of the five textbooks and two notebooks in the mess.
She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want to do this any more.
Someone set her free, from school, from obligations. What kind of detective needs to be able to analyse the best of Japanese literature, anyway? What kind of detective needs to be able to do math at the same level as an economist? Why does any of this matter!?
Letting out one last, final sigh, Naoto’s head hits the desk with a loud thud.
If you drop a thread with me just let me know & be honest with me & don’t tell me you’re going to reply to it after weeks of me waiting when I’ve asked politely if a ‘thread has been dropped’ just tell me. I am not going to get angry, I’d actually be cool with it, I understand that sometimes threads don’t always work out & I am willing to talk about it but if you’re going to be rude to me & give me attitude then I am very sorry but I don’t have time to deal with it.
Greetings my dears! For those of you who don’t know, I’ve cleared my thread tracker by mistake, the mun is a fool…aha… ! This means if your thread is not listed below, I’m not tracking it and therefore won’t be replying to it.
Fear not! Just throw me an IM and we can sort it out.
Once I’m on top of threads again, I’ll be posting opens more often so watch this space.
A flicking of his tongue across his bottom lip, he figured her name would be brought up. Rufus is fiercely protective of his Turks—it didn’t matter who was standing in front of him. He would protect them with all of his ability. But it was this creature in front of him, scouring over his many books, that Rem had chosen to protect. He elected to brush aside his curiosity of them.
“I only know what has been found in the computers about it.” As much as he’d hate to admit it, he didn’t know much about the underground branch that was keep secret—even from him. “The unlikely murder of my Old Man did not allow the proper time to have all things to pass over—things that were hidden in the dark even from the company heir.” Scarlet knew and he was sure Reeve did. But the situation with Sephiroth had grounded all work and their mouths were filled with solutions to surviving rather than sealed secrets of the past.
-╳- Observations continued on the shelving, magenta eyes repeatedly scanning titles of books etched into their spines until one in particular caught his attention; lithe fingers reaching forward to so gently pick it from the shelf. Long fingernails, sharp and carbon in colour were so gingerly maneuvered so not to cause damage; respect for literature far outweighed the Sable’s respect for people. Books had been so few and far between in the realms of Deepground… his restless mind constantly in need of something to occupy.
“How unfortunate-” Murmured, initially, were his words, mind far too transfixed on the words before his eyes to fully dedicate himself to conversation. “Most information from the facility was deleted, removed, when the mainframe computer, Patricia, was breached and eventually destroyed.” Silence shrouded the sable once more; most of what happened in Deepground could only be recalled by those that had witnessed it first hand, and very few resided, now, in areas that would allow for conversation. Regardless, the Sable was in a more than calm in those moments; willing, one might even press to say.
“Remarkably, the murder of the President, as of then, was something that eventually made it’s way around the ranks. Hardly a surprise to many of us, you’ll understand-” Only then did he break his gaze from the book in his hand and place it back in the very same position on the shelf.
As a child, Naruto always wondered what it would be like if he had, had a father to tell him how proud he was of his accomplishments. And a mother to smother him with love at every turn. And that’s why, he really hoped that what was happening now wasn’t just some dream he had conjured up after falling asleep at his desk.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Was his father really standing right there, close enough that he could reach out and touch him? Or was he really dreaming? Was this one of those fantasies his mind would conjure up on occasion when he longed to feel the joy that came with having a set of loving parents? Was he trapped in a genjutsu? There were so many possibilities…
His bandaged hand reached out, placing itself on the Yondaime’s shoulder. The body was solid, warm. This shouldn’t have been possible. But somehow, his father was here with him right now.
Tears began to well in the blonde’s eyes as he took cautious steps forward. Strong arms wound themselves around the other blonde, his chin resting on his father’s shoulder. He felt like such a small child, crying at the sight of a parent after a long absence. But he was allowed that privilege since he had to grow up without feeling the warmth of a parent’s love.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming, ‘ttebayo,” Naruto murmured; his arms winding tighter around his father. “Tell me you’re actually here… Tou-san.”
He doesn’t know when he started to wonder;; maybe when he’d found drawings of old New York City up at the wall of the common dining room in Stark tower, New York of his time, maybe when he’d switched through the channels one night and caught a glimpse of a Captain America footage that wasn’t black and white and looked like it had been shot recently only for Jarvis to shut it off instantly. Surely when the man from another world had visited them, Thor, who’d asked cheerfully where Steve might be. You don’t have to be a crazy ex-assassin to put two and two together, but it’s surely helpful when you try to intimidate Tony Stark, the weakest spot in James’ new circle of so called friends. Black Widow would have come up smiling, that’s for sure, Barton has been through a lot of shit already and wouldn’t tell him anything no matter how nice his interrogation attempts are and James might be still nuts but he’s not that crazy that he risks to bring out the Hulk by frightening Bruce Banner. Thor, obviously, doesn’t know anything, so the only one left is Tony Stark who tries to call for his suit (of course) but there is still the fancy metal with which James simply smashes the helmet before it is able to put itself on Stark’s head.
Afterwards it’s easy;; putting Stark’s attempts aside to be snarky and to buy time, clearly hoping someone else would come as quickly as possible (and probably called by Jarvis), he cracks when James threatens to suffocate him. He would never do it, but that’s the thing nowadays: other people can’t tell anymore. (And sometimes it’s even difficult for him.)
Stark tells him everything: starting from when Steve has been found in the ice seven years ago over the battle of New York where the Avengers were found, practically, right up to Stark’s discovery of Hydra being an infectious disease within SHIELD – from the very beginning. He tells him about Steve’s attempts to get rid of them finally, how he destroyed base after base after base, how two new fucking heads grew for the one he just cut off. How Hydra got annoyed, eventually, and sent him footage that wrecked him because it was him, James, the Winter Soldier, the puppet and most valuable asset of Hydra. How he couldn’t live with the thought of his best friend being held for more than 70 years.
Stark also tells him that they didn’t know of Steve’s plan;; that he asked them a big favor but that he never explained what exactly. They found out when some black car without a license plate dropped James right in front of Stark tower, half beaten to death and with ice crystals still in his hair. The Black Widow recognized the Winter Soldier instantly, Agent Coulson Sergeant Barnes. Surprisingly it was Tony who uttered the possibility of Steve trading himself in for James first. Afterwards it was almost ridiculous that neither of them had thought about it. They continued Steve’s mission to wipe Hydra from the face of the earth, always hoping to find their friend somewhere but Hydra’s roots are deep and for one destroyed base three new ones were founded in all parts of the world.
Captain America was declared missed in action, the whole of the United States held a minute of silence on the 4th July. In the meantime the Soldier had learned to ask for food, slowly getting better with the help of the Avengers and all the therapists and psychologist Tony Stark’s money could buy. It took him three years until he thought of himself as James and not Soldier, three years until he could look into the mirror and think that’s me, three years until he laughed so hard for the first time in centuries that he had to cry. The Tower didn’t only provide shelter, it was also the perfect way to manipulate him: no matter what he watched or googled, Jarvis made sure he would never discover that Captain America had been found years ago just to disappear all over again.
Once Stark is finished, James throws a rampage. He destroys the 20 million Dollar lab, he destroys the communal living room and almost destroys himself. Almost. He’s the only one who knows Hydra better than anyone else and without him they will never find Steve and rescue him. So he forces himself to calm down, then politely asks Stark to call all the other Avengers. He ends up in a screaming match with Natasha Romanoff but in the end nobody is able to stop him: he demands to see the intel they’ve already been able to gather and then returns to his room for three days without food, sleep or a shower. Then he comes back out looking like the ghost he used to be and tells them calmly where next they will look for Steve.
Then, after 7 months, they are finally hot on the scent. James finds a short status report of something Hydra calls the Commander coming from a base in Kazakhstan and although they are not fit for it after their recent fight with Black Widow having a severe bullet wound at the shoulder and Hawkeye sporting a concussion, they fly from Belarus to Kazakhstan instantly. Stark calls his friend Rhodey for support who comes as War Machine and with a new suit for Stark since his old one has been battered beyond repair in Belarus.
The base is mostly underground but the simple small building on top is so heavily guarded with soldiers and rocket launchers that James knows it has to be here. Here or nowhere at all. The Hulk rages through the battalions of soldiers but he, too, seems tired. Thor smashes the reinforced door with his hammer and then it’s blood and pain and screams;; James will be haunted by the lives he’s taking, even if it’s Hydra soldiers, but he can’t bring himself to care. He empties his guns’ magazines, he shatters bones and skulls until the metal arm disappears under a thick layer of bright red blood.
Then, all of a sudden, he finds it. And isn’t it odd that it feels like coming home? But then the cryo tank has been his home for seven decades. He kills the three scientists, who are trying to hide under a table, with his bare hands, then walks over to the chamber. His knees are like jelly. He can still hear the fighting noises coming from other parts of the building, but none of this is relevant. He steps up to the cryo chamber and presses his right hand against the small window until his body heath has melted most of the ice crystals: there is a pale, white face with blond hair. James has to step away and throw up in a nearby wastebasket. Then he walks over to the computers and starts to enter different codes and data to activate Project Commander.
After two minutes the cryo chamber opens eventually and the mechanical bed on which Steve is standing pulls out and presents the frozen body. Simultaneously different robot arms emerge from the chamber to inject a broad variety of drugs into Steve’s system;; James doesn’t stop them because he knows it’s important for him waking up. Nothing of it will ease the pain of slowly awakening nerve endings, though. But at least – he is not alone. Not this time. James sits down next to him and starts to cry for the first time since 1945.
✕ ┊█“Finally, I thought they’d never leave.” Lucille frowned as she began tugging off the black dress, the same color as the other Wives, with a deep frown. “Why do I need to dress like them?” she huffed, the fabric hitting the ground with a soft sound, “In fact, why do we even need them? Aren’t I enough for you…?”
Steve’s lips purse lightly, because he knows he doesn’t have the same EXPERIENCES that Bucky does. Hasn’t seen the same horrors, though he has seen terrible things. Still, for what he has seen - he HAS to believe it. He has to believe in the misguided attempts, or WHAT ELSE can be believe in?
❝Maybe not everybody,❞ he agrees idly.
❝But I gotta believe otherwise until I see that, Buck. I can’t GIVE UP on somebody just because they may be a lost cause. I gotta make sure I’m not just giving up EARLY. You know that.❞
Bucky knows that more than most, considering the lengths Steve went to ensure his safety but there were some people that didn’t deserve that. Hell, he wasn’t sure HE even deserved that but he was thankful for it nonetheless, it just worried him that other people could use that UNYIELDING kind nature to manipulate him.
❝I know, I just worry about you, alright?❞
He concedes for now, at least just until the matter is brought up once again, it’s likely not the last time he argued that point.
❝Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reason,
not just because you THINK they can be good, there
has to be something to PROVE it.❞