boy! would i warm him over!

statistics —

NAME: Thomas Raymond AGE: Twenty-eight FACECLAIM: Casey Deidrick ALIAS: The Human Torch, Toro, Tom (by Bucky only) POWERS/SKILLS: Pyrokinesis, plasma form, nova flame, fire manipulation, flight, thermokinesis, immunity to fire, immunity to heat, superhuman durability, cold resistance, master marksman, master of stealth, expert tactician, master acrobat, knife proficiency, and an expert in hand-to-hand combat.   ↳ CHEMICAL TRANSFORMATION: he has the ability to subconsciously create chemical and elemental transformations in his body and the air next to him. he uses this to duplicate the ability to engulf himself in flames. when aflame he’s enveloped by a low-intensity flame that’s around 780° fahrenheit. thomas can however generate heat and flame of temperatures ranging over 2500° fahrenheit. he can also create shapes out of fire and they’ll burn for three minutes unless he infuses them with more energy. like his mentor, he can telekinetically control flame objects and also flames that weren’t created by him.  when flying he can travel at speeds up to 150 miles per hour. most bullets will be immediately vaporized if thomas is aflame. ALLIANCE: The Inhumans, Invaders    ↳ His Inhuman gene was activated after reacting to synthetic replicas of human cells called Horton cells in the 1920’s. These cells were made using plastic and carbon polymers. His adoptive father is an android who was created with them. When Thomas came into contact with him for the first time as a little boy, his physiology became exposed to the Horton cells and his Inhuman powers finally manifested. THREAT LEVEL (OUT OF TEN): Eight HISTORY FILE (LINK WIKI): Dossier NOTABLE CHANGES FROM 2012 TO THE TIMELINE THEY WERE PULLED FROM: My main change is that Thomas was an adult when fighting in the war. He was old enough to enlist in Rewritten. I don’t like that the comics made Thomas a literal child fighting the war so this is an important change! He was born in the year 1916 and died in 1944. His wife gave his best friend his dog tags because that’s what Thomas would have wanted. Jim still adopted him but it was back in 1923 and he became his sidekick shortly after! LAST MEMORY BEFORE ENDING UP IN NYC, 2012: 1943. Sneaking off to have a beer with Bucky on one of the more quiet nights. He remembers saying this was to make up for not being able to properly celebrate his birthday. He was a soldier for the United States Army and got pulled right out of World War II to 2012.

@rewrittenintro

zinda  was  given  the  closure  of  being  able  to  know  how  the  war  ended  when  she  was  pulled  into  the  future,  able  to  see  just  how  important  the  blackhawks  were,  how  pilots  changed  the  tide  of  the  war.  and  she’s  long  moved  passed  that  part  but,  being  in  a  world  where  that  wasn’t  recognized  left  her  feeling  almost…  sick.  she’d  watched  good  men  die,  watched  her  closest  friends  die,  her  lover.  it  causes  her  to  frown,  part  of  her  just  wanting  to  walk  away  and  pretend  she  never  said  anything.  but  the  voice  pulls  her  from  her  thoughts,  and  it’s  somewhat  relieving  to  hear  that  he’s  in  the  same  boat.  immediately  she  raises  a  brow  at  the  mention  of  the  second  world  war,  and  considering  she  is  who  she  is  she  doesn’t  question  it.  “  you  don’t  say?  well,  i’m  glad  to  hear  i’m  not  alone.  ”  she  has  no  idea  who  this  man  is  but  that  sentence  alone  makes  her  feel  far  more  familiar  with  him  than  anyone  else.  holds  her  dog  tags  up  after  a  moment.  “  guess  it  doesn’t  sound  all  that  crazy  to  say  but  i  fought  in  world  war  i,  was  a  pilot.  ”  hand  reaches  to  shake  the  others  firmly,  smiling  gently.  “  pleasure’s  mine,  zinda  blake,  i  think  that’d  be  a  lovely  idea.  ”

❝ the one & only. ❞ she smiles slightly, though god, 1943 ? he’s so young. she has almost a decade on him now, & that’s a strange feeling, when she used to be the youngest of their little group. ❝ this must have been quite the surprise. i’m from ‘56. ❞ & well on her way to outliving all of them, it had seemed at the time. only namor was left. they weren’t exactly meeting up for tea, though. she’s never been the most affectionate type ( she can’t quite remember if that had always been true, or if she beat it out of herself trying to win a little more workplace respect ) , but she hugs him warmly back. ❝ good. i’m glad you’re here. ❞ she looks slightly surprised by toro’s question, but it’s a fair one, & really — she might be the best secret keeper affiliated with the team, but this isn’t one she expected to have to keep, & doesn’t he have the right to know ? ❝ i’m not surprised they won’t tell you. after the service, when nearly everyone had left … jim & namor got into a fight. a physical one, that is. jim had been about a heartbeat away from burning the place down from the beginning, it didn’t look hard for namor to goad him into punching him instead. it was a hell of a thing to watch. ❞ no one had been stupid enough to try to pull them apart. most of the time no one could even think about it, because they were mid air or too fast to track. peggy, personally, had called them idiots, wrapped a comforting arm around ann, & lit a cigarette for the first time in years, but she doesn’t mention that.

closed for toro raymond / @burnablc​​ !

peggy lowers her sunglasses as she looks up at the man flying a few feet above the ground, eyebrows raised. ❝ toro ? ❞ that — simply put, that should be impossible. she remembers his funeral well. it had been an eventful one, what with the human torch submariner rematch out of hell. she supposes, though, that she can’t talk about impossibilities. she’s far, far from her home. she’ll have to get used to it. she can’t let anything faze her, can’t afford to. ❝ you’re looking well, for a dead man. ❞ the words are lightly teasing, fond. generally speaking, this should make her more concerned about the widespread impact of this time traveling, but — she can’t exactly bring herself to be upset about this. it’s good to see him.

Ryoko can’t help but laugh, her and her sister dreamed of being invaders often. Playing in the yard, pretending they had superpowers and defeating the bad guys. Little did they know, they truly did have powers, passed onto them from their father and grandmother before them. There’s a bit of mixed feelings in this moment, feeling sad about both her grandmother and her sister not being here. But.. to know that the invaders were here and alive? Well it was all her childhood dreams coming true. “Did shops not sell maps?” Not that Ryoko ever used a map herself. She much preferred to fly above the city to find her way around, much like it sounds like Toro did too. “We should race sometime, I can fly too.” Ryoko teases, knowing fully well Toro would beat her in a heartbeat. A smile soon graces her face as Toro speaks fondly of his parents. She understands, to an extent. She never knew her mother but the loss of her father, grandmother and sister all hit her hard, once surrounded by loved ones… but now she’s alone in the world. Or.. she was. A secret hope that maybe she invaders might open their arms to her. “That’s actually really sweet. I like that a lot…Toro the torch, it’s the perfect fit.” Ryoko can’t help but think Toro is nothing short of adorable. He’s a that boyish charm that really seems to pull her in, smiling brightly at him in return. “Really?” Ryoko claps her hands once in excitement. “I can already think of a million different styles that would work on you. I think a street style might be right up your alley though.” The woman comes over to Toro’s side, pictures quickly pulled up on her phone. “Do any of these catch your eye?” 

                    𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐇𝐈𝐌  𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.  toro  isn’t  jim’s  by  blood  -  jim  doesn’t  even  have  blood  -  but  that  doesn’t  mean  a  damn  thing.  he’s  his  son.  jim  would  know  him  anywhere.  the  luckiest  he’s  ever  been  was  the  day  that  toro  came  into  his  life,  and  the  worst  he’s  ever  felt  was  the  day  the  boy  (  because  no  matter  how  much  he  grows,  he  will  always  be  jim’s  boy  )  left  it,  and  the  grief  that  followed.  the  pros  and  cons  of  being  an  android  are  often  the  same,  and  this  one  certainly  is  :  he  remembers  everything.  he  remembers  everything.  the  time  he  spent  with  his  son  is  so  precious  to  him,  and  -  jim  has  burned,  but  he  has  never  been  burned,  and  he  imagines  that  the  pain  of  the  memories  is  similar  to  it.  it’s  fitting,  isn’t  it  ?

                    𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐎  𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖  should  have  been  a  warning.  that  some  day,  toro  would  die,  because  he  is  human,  and  jim  -  no  matter  how  much  he  wishes  otherwise  -  is  not.  he  never  really  thought  about  it,  until  the  war.  until  toro  was  on  the  front  lines,  being  shot  at.  losing  him,  once  a  faraway  thing  that  seemed  almost  impossible  because  toro  burned  so  brightly,  suddenly  became  real.  concrete.  a  danger  only  inches  away,  that  jim  always  fended  off  with  an  anger  that  could  terrify  even  those  who  knew  him,  until  he  didn’t.  until  he  wasn’t  there  to.

                    𝐈𝐅  𝐉𝐈𝐌  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐀  𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒  𝐌𝐀𝐍,  he  might  think  this  a  justified  haunting.  but  he  isn’t,  so  he  doesn’t.  he’s  frozen  into  place,  staring  at  his  son,  shellshocked.  and  then  he  isn’t,  because  toro  is  crying,  and  it’s  like  a  systems  override.  it’s  the  only  thing  that  matters.  helping  him.  comforting  him.  holding  him  again,  after  all  these  years  -  it’s  the  only  thing  that  matters.  he  jolts  forwards,  gently  cups  his  face,  so  careful  with  him.  “  i  know  it’s  you.  i  know.  you  don’t  have  to  -  oh,  little  firebug.  “  his  voice  cracks,  and  jim  shakes  his  head  as  if  it  will  clear  his  mind.  “  i  missed  you,  too.  i  missed  you  so  damn  much.  “

There aren’t many instances where Thomas found himself crying this much since it’s an unusual behavior for him. Tears stained his cheeks whenever his father got hurt on their adventures. He was a sensitive child but despite all of the traumatic events that occurred in his life . . .  there was a light burning deep within. He always looks for the enjoyment in every situation. It might be for the best that his mind doesn’t recall the night of the train crash. He doesn’t need those memories haunting him. There’s details about that night that Toro might never remember but he was still a toddler at the time — saving himself purely on instinct. The circus that took him in afterward treated him like a freak for being different. He doesn’t remember his biological parents but that doesn’t even matter. Jim is the only parent Thomas has ever known so the idea of seeing him hurt at all. Which means he probably shouldn’t have been out there fighting crime at such a young age but they were an iconic duo! One that was making a difference! He didn’t like going to those fancy parties though . . .

Toro doesn’t bother trying to hide his tears, the heat off his skin causes them to evaporate before they reach his jawline. This doesn’t stop them from coming though once they start. Why is he like this?

There was happiness brought into his life with being Jim’s son. They went on so many vacations together — once to the mountains where they were surrounded by snow and another time to the beach . . .  just to name a few. It was a way of rewarding themselves for a job well done. Sometimes it was the little things, being taken to the theatre to watch an action film. His favorite! These were all normalcies that wouldn’t have been possible if Toro stayed in the circus. Any time spent with his father was worth it.  He enjoyed getting to soar through the sky as their flames burned behind them. It made him smile and remembers fondly the first time he learned to fly with guidance from Jim — who needed to catch him a few times.

It brings him relief knowing that the other man is here . . .  been searching around for him everywhere that he thought to look. He sniffled while trying to pull himself together after Jim jolts forward to cup his face so gently. He was always so careful with him. They’e come a long way since those early days of having comic books printed about them, that’s for sure.  LITTLE FIREBUG manages to make him smile and for a moment his eyes stop watering. “You believe me? I ran into Namor in the city but he thought I was just a ghost at first . . . I don’t know what I’d do if you thought that too.” He can’t help himself wrapping his arms around his father for an actual hug this time, the flames flickering with the wind as he holds onto Jim. He’s not ready to let go. “I feel safer knowing that you’re here . . .” Toro doesn’t pull back just yet, enjoying the comfort of being held by the one man who has always protected him. “I’m sorry I cried so much.” This is when the younger man finally moves out of the embrace but staying close. He wants to give his father the chance to get a really good look at him now that the crying has stopped for now.

❝ stop. stop, you cannot be. ❞ this being reality is impossible. it’s impossible. he has never hallucinated anything like this before, true, but — his mind is inventive & cruel. there is a first time for everything. he should not be surprised. he wants to sound angry at toro, knows he doesn’t quite mange it, only summoning up exhaustion & slight desperation instead. ‘my death hasn’t happened yet’ hits him like a punch to the gut, shoulders tensing. the memory of that day tastes like blood. he knows better than to play into any delusion, but he wants this to be real. he wants this to be real. he reaches out cautiously, touches him on the shoulder, unbothered by the flames, so light that it’s clear he’s expecting his hand to pass right through. it doesn’t. he looks at the place where skin meets shirt, & blinks, eyes widening. blinks again, like he’ll see something else if he does. ❝ … oh. ❞ he stares for a moment longer, than draws back abruptly, walls closing as he meets toro’s gaze for the first time. he searches for his voice, unsure of what to do, then manages, ❝ things are very different in this time. ❞

It comes flooding in like a dam breaking. Often times memories come back like dreams, hazy around the edges. But fitting of war to come back so violently and viscously – like a flood and Bucky’s drowning in it. A metallic taste sits heavy on his tongue, as if he’s got a mouth full of blood once again, bones ache in a way he forgot they could. His body is remembering the strain and the stress of war. How exhausting and tiring it was. But on the flip side of that there were quiet moments and those are the ones he’s happy to remember. Nights like the night Toro tried throwing him a birthday party. Nights where they had a few too many beers when they knew they shouldn’t have and sang around a campfire. Nights where Bucky was afraid but with Steve and Toro by his side he could be a little more brave. Things were so different now, his fears were far from losing war but now losing himself. Losing all these foggy memories again, he rather have them incomplete than not at all. He never wants to live in the dark like that again. It scares him. But any fear of Hydra and being caught again is outweighed by his need to keep Toro alive. Before, Bucky was so desperate to get out of this time and away from Hydra but… if things go back to the way they were – he loses his family again. He’s not sure he can stomach that a second time around when the first time he barely got to process.

Bucky laughs a little bit, though it’s a bit watery. He’s very close to tears. “I think people might like that better than what other ghosts are doing… you aren’t slamming their doors.” While he’s joking he doesn’t really enjoy this conversation. He doesn’t like speaking about Toro being a ghost, not when he’s standing right here in front of him. Because.. what if this is just a ghost? Sometimes memories haunt Bucky in different ways. The hallucinations are rare but they happen from time to time. Could he be making up this whole interaction? Could Toro’s body still be missing and this man be a figment of his imagination? The very thought gives him chills, a reunion that’s not real. A reunion that he’s so desperate for mocking him because he knows the dead have come back to life. This could very well be a fake hope that’s here to play tricks on him. If that’s the case then… it’s bittersweet because in the end he still did get to see Toro, right? “I’m.. from 2023. 11 years in the future, so.. to you it’s only been sixty eight years but for me? Seventy-nine long years.” Long, and gruesome. Those years have not been kind to Bucky. They’ve created an entire new person who’s looking for a man that maybe doesn’t even exist anymore. If anyone’s the ghost here, it’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes died in 1945 but his ghost was warped into something unrecognizable… at least in his own mind. He knows Steve would argue that fact until his face was blue. 

Any worries he had about Toro being a hallucination is gone when he finally has him wrapped up in a hug. His grip is strong and he knows it, he’s clinging on as if he lets go this will all disappear. With his friend’s tears evident, Bucky’s own tears threaten to spill onto his cheeks. “You don’t even have to worry about that, Tom. I’m not going anywhere..” And that much is true he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep his family together after all these years. “You’re aren’t gonna die. We’re gonna figure this damn thing out together but I will not let that happen.” Bucky sniffles, pulling away just enough so he can look at Toro’s face. “You hear me? You ain’t going anywhere, you’re stuck with me again.” 

It might not be the best conversation for them to be having while standing in front of a tombstone with Thomas’ name on it. He can’t blame anyone for thinking that his existence is a hallucination after being dead for almost eight decades. He always thought himself to be indestructible due to the nature of his Inhuman physiology, the flames that constantly burn within him that can cover his skin in an instant. The fire burns a constant seven hundred and eighty degrees and that’s always been enough even if he could always go hotter. When aflame all blades and bullets melt before touching his skin. Which became his favorite trick to use in the war even if that meant singing his uniform. He ended up having to roll up his sleeves. This became something like a shield, protecting not just himself but his best friends and fellow soldiers when the timing got tough. Thomas became so convinced that nothing could hurt him and that would become his downfall one day. Deep down he doesn’t regret dying for his country. He knows that this is all real, obvious by the way his heart is beating so quickly. “Slamming doors would just be rude. I’d knock and ask nicely to be invited in.” He laughs for a brief moment but doesn’t linger on the subject knowing it would be hard for his best friend. He always thought that they’d grow old together and share war stories with their grandkids. Thomas knows this isn’t possible. His wife remarried and he can’t bring himself to be upset. She deserved to be happy and doesn’t look her up since it wouldn’t be fair to reopen those old wounds if she were still alive. It was his time to move on. “Bucks . . . I had no idea.” His chest feels heavy with grief. His own grief.

Once Toro has arms wrapped around Bucky for an embrace it’s going to be difficult letting him go. He notices that the grip is stronger than he remembers but he’ll have plenty of time to ask what that means. Times have changed but no matter what has happened? This is his best friend . . .  his brother. Nothing could change the fact he loves him like family. They grew up together in Brooklyn and so it brings him some peace knowing that there’s a familiar face here. “Everything is overwhelming.” He can’t rely completely on Bucky for everything with adjusting to this new time period but it helps knowing that there’s someone here who will understand why his behaviors are different from everyone else. He doesn’t understand how telephones can be carried around on these tiny rectangles in your pocket or what the internet is. Only two of many, many, many technological advancements that leave Toro more confused than anything. He’s sure there was someone talking to themselves in the street as if their friend was next to them but nobody was there. This world is odd but if he survived the war . . .  he might be dead of old age before he got to see any of this. What a strange though that is. Unfortunately that isn’t how his life got to end, instead, fate took him much too early. “Thank you . . .” Tears soaking Bucky’s clothes some more.

(  @burnablc​​  )  gaze  lingers  on  the  building  longer  than  she  intends,  unable  to  bring  herself  to  go  inside.  “  y’know,  i’ve  been  by  this  place  at  least  4  times  in  the  past  week  or  so,  ”  she  begins,  talking  to  no  one  in  particular,  whoever  was  around.  it  was  always  difficult  to  go  into  any  museum  that  honored  war.  but  perhaps  it  was  different  this  time  for  if  she  stepped  inside  there’d  be  no  remembrance  of  her  team,  their  sacrifice  and  contribution  to  the  war,  her  sacrifices.  “  just  can’t  bring  myself  to  go  in  for  some  reason.  ”  she  admits,  smile  faint.  the  feeling  makes  her  feel  weak,  but  she  can’t  help  the  memories  that  haunt  her.  “  embarrassin’,  don’t  y’think?  ” 

at least gamora wasn’t the only one who had no experience with things like this. “i always knew earth was a mess, i just didn’t know it was this bad,” she admitted. most of what she knew about earth was in regards to her inhabitants. this didn’t seem like their fault, but maybe she was wrong. “a drink would be nice,” she decided. she didn’t know if it would actually take the edge off, but it was worth a shot.

                      𝐀  𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇  𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  𝐔𝐏  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐊𝐘  above  brooklyn.  jim  has  not  stepped  foot  in  the  borough  in  years,  outside  of  one  small  grave  plot  ;  he  will  not,  for  as  long  as  he  can  help  it.  it’s  toro’s  home.  it  feels  so  empty  without  him,  holding  memories  jim  isn’t  strong  enough  to  face.  the  air  up  here  bites  too,  filled  with  fond  recollections,  but  it’s  easier  to  ignore  than  concrete.  he  surveys  the  city  below  him,  the  glittering  lights  of  2012  -  the  shadows  that  lurk  even  in  the  brightness.  he’s  going  to  miss  this  place,  he  thinks.  he’s  going  to  miss  all  of  it.  jim  starts  to  smile  at  the  approach  of  another  burst  of  light,  warm.  he  assumes  that  it’s  johnny,  because  who  else  could  it  be  ?  new  york  is  his  city,  and  toro  is  long  dead,  and  toro  is  flying  up  to  him  now,  as  youthful  as  the  day  he  died,  and  the  smile  slips  right  off  jim’s  face.

                    𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓  𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊  𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘.  he’s  not  angry.  he  couldn’t  be.  it’s  the  heartbroken  disbelief  of  a  long  -  mourning  father,  who  stood  at  the  funeral  in  front  of  an  empty  casket  and  barely  resisted  the  urge  to  burn  the  entire  place  down.  he  shouldn’t  be  so  surprised,  perhaps,  when  he  too  has  been  snatched  into  this  time  from  the  jaws  of  death,  but  this  is  a  thing  he  has  never  let  himself  dream  of.  they  call  it  moving  on,  giving  up  the  impossible  hopes.  jim  knows  well  that  he  has  not  moved  on,  that  it’s  defeat  instead  that  kills  any  dreams  of  resurrection.  “  toro  ?  “  two  syllables,  and  his  voice  breaks.

(  for  @burnablc​.  )

1923. The year of his seventh birthday but also when Toro would meet Jim for the first time at the circus. All it took was one handshake to activate his Inhuman physiology.  It didn’t take much longer after that for the boy to be adopted by the older man who’s powers turned out to be an exact replica of his own. He began fighting crime alongside him. The public called him many things. Sometimes it was just Toro the Flaming Kid or other times grouped together with his father and they were just referred to as The Human Torches. The entire experience had brought a new light into his life and never regretted for an instant leaving the circus to follow Jim around the world. They ended up settling in Brooklyn for a while. It was better than being pointed at and ridiculed for being different. He could get a similar rush doing something more proactive with his abilities . . . like saving people! It became home. It’s where he had sleepovers with his two best friends. This is where they’d play in the street and Toro would melt tires on cars if they dared to come too close. He went to school here too and always asked for a cold Coca-Cola. There were so many good memories so it’s no wonder that here in 2012 that he decided to get a small apartment in the borough. What else is nice about this point in time? Nobody seems bothered by seeing him fly through the sky. He really likes that and maybe Bucky doesn’t have to remind him not to play with fire in public anymore like he used to when they were growing up.  

There’s streak of flames trailing behind him, slowly fading the further that Thomas flies. He does a few flips, just admiring how free it feels getting to do this again. He didn’t always have time during the war. It’s nice to fly just to fly. The red, orange, and yellow colors cover his entire body, a familiarity that only a select few would know how it feels. Toro started calling himself Human Torch also in honor of his father since he couldn’t exactly call himself Flaming Kid anymore in adulthood. He doesn’t mind sharing the title with other people, knowing that this era has another one. He hasn’t met him though but maybe someday?

Right now, his focus is on the other flaming figure hovering in the air looking back at him. He stops in front of him, flames receding to reveal his face and the front of his body. Flickering heat blazes off his backside and feet to keep himself in the air still. He wants his father to really see his face. Toro knows how protective that the older man has always been of him so his mind can’t really wrap itself around how he must have reacted to the news back in 1944.

Bucky remembers that day clearly. War didn’t seem like a good time to celebrate a birthday, not that Bucky enjoyed his birthday all that much anyways. It was just another day to him, never big on gifts or his mother trying to bake up a nice cake. It just wasn’t worth the money or the trouble when the world was falling a part around them. Instead as kids he preferred just getting a root beer and playing in the water at the docks, spending time with Steve and Toro. War was no different, there wasn’t really a time to think about a birthday. To this day Bucky doesn’t know how Toro kept time long enough to remember his birthday but that’s a memory that sticks with him forever. Not more than a few weeks later he’d lose one of his best friends and never get the time to mourn because Hydra would get their hands on him. A tragedy if Bucky ever heard one. 

“You’re no ghost, I know that much.” Bucky’s been a ghost. He’s been the ghost story that haunts the dreams of powerful men and women. A ghost story that lingers in Bucky’s very shadow, a reminder. The memory is a little fuzzy around the edges, many memories still are. But he remembers that haunted house, eyes full of glee at the very thought of ghosts. Oh how the tides change, once a child so keen on meeting a ghost, now a man who’s haunted by them everywhere he goes. He’d say he’s afraid of ghosts now, only because the ones that haunt him are one’s that have died by his hand. It’s hard to look at Toro for a moment, because while his friend hasn’t changed Bucky has. If Toro had his eyes closed, he doubt he would think Bucky to be the same person. “But now it’s 2012. This is… actually the past to me.” He breathes out finally looking up at Toro. “It’s been 79 years.” The words come choked, Bucky didn’t even realize he started crying. 79 years is a long time and just about 70 of those years had been nothing but torture. He never got mourn, not really. But maybe he doesn’t have to. It a few short steps, Bucky pulls Toro into a hug. It’s almost bone crushing but Bucky doesn’t care. Toro is here.. and he’s real. That’s all that matters. 

War definitely isn’t an ideal time for celebrations of any kind but Thomas has managed to keep a certain softness about him despite all of the tragedy that has happened throughout his life. Maybe that was his specialty, being able to see all of the light in  the dark. He didn’t know that would be the last time they would have a night to themselves. It wasn’t easy getting a few hours away from their responsibilities but Toro always tried his hardest to find some to spare for an opportunity to make his best friend smile. They grew up together too, living close by in Brooklyn. Bucky and Steve were his first friends and they weren’t afraid of him. He remembers being so nervous about losing them because in the twenties it frightened people at first to have two people covered in flames flying around New York. Many started seeing them as heroes and they even had their own comic books printed about their adventures but Toro could never forget the look on civilians faces when seeing his form. However, none of those expressions ever stopped him from doing the right thing. Helping people was essentially his job and he enjoyed getting to save the day while punching all the bad guys — with his father’s supervision most of the time. It makes sense for that to be the reason behind his death. He died doing what he does best — BEING A HERO.

It doesn’t make it entirely easier to wrap his head around though . . .  there’s so much left that he wants to do. “I’m relieved that I’m not a ghost. I wouldn’t be a very good one. I’d scare one person then feel bad and start apologizing.” Thomas prefers being alive. He wants to scream at the world all about how he’s still here. He decides to keep these moments private instead. Theres people to track down, hell, see if anyone that he did know is still alive. Would they understand? How would Toro explain coming back from the dead to those that weren’t used to unusual circumstances? It’s obvious the more his eyes observe his best friend that time has changed him but that can be said for anyone. He missed out on so much and just hopes there’s still a place for him somewhere in any of this. He worries though, Bucky seems tired —  wanting nothing more than to pull him in close and let him talk all about what has happened to him. He has his own tragedies and trauma whether it was from the war, the train crash, or any of those times he had been kidnapped growing up by some villainous character. Toro wouldn’t want to be forced to talk about any of those experiences so he won’t expect that of Bucky. He’ll be here ready and waiting for whenever the time is right and his friend wants to open up. “Seventy-nine years? I thought it was only sixty-eight . . .” His words trail off, looking at the tombstone, a certain sadness in his eyes while the realization sets in that he’s been gone a lot longer than he thought.  It makes his chest feel heavy, just strange at the engravings again and aright, a few tears can be seen.

There’s an old black and white photograph in his hands, the imagery is of him standing with his two childhood best friends. Toro is in the middle with this cheesy grin on his face while his arms are wrapped around Steve and Bucky who are on either side of him. This is when they were teenagers before the war and how quickly everything changed. He feels grateful to have this memory. His father gave this photograph to him. He thinks this was before they went to sleep in that haunted house in their neighborhood. Toro smiles and for a moment is so focused on this photo that he doesn’t realize someone is approaching the bench he’s sitting on. There’s no way anyone would still recognize him from all those comic books published about him or the war propaganda that he did, right? The twenties, thirties, and forties were a long time ago. Which is still a strange feeling for him to accept. He can’t wrap his head around any of it yet and being this far into the future makes him feel like all of his accomplishments were only good for history books. “I miss these days.” He finally spoke out loud, mostly to himself, but if anyone else happened to be close enough? They would have heard him too. 

they had been doing so well. that’s all they can think as they see him, sharp disappointment as that familiar, panicked feeling begins to rise in their chest. they had been doing so well lately — their mind had felt clearer, there were less bursts of uncalled for anger or fear, less lost comrades lurking around corners, triggered by loud noises or bursts of light. & now … this. & now him. another friend they watched die, though less — bloody, seemingly. less accusing than usual. almost happy. it’s odd, but not enough to make it seem any different than what has plagued them for decades now. there’s something uncharacteristically pained in their eyes, unwilling to look at him straight on, jaw set. ❝ hello again, raymond. ❞ again. again, again. quiet, resigned. ❝ not today. i am too busy for ghosts. ❞ they almost want to say please, but — namor does not beg. not even their own mind will make them beg.

“You’ll have to be more specific, because just about every story she had involved you and Bucky getting lost in some comical way… She loved telling stories of you guys. I know she would have been the first person here to see you.” And maybe that’s why she came so fast. She knew her grandmother would have been the first person in line to give the man a hug. It was a shame there are now two people she never got to see before she passed. Ryoko remembers the day they found Cap, she’d never see her grandmother so happy about meeting up with an old friend. “Oh, thank you.” The woman gives him a warm smile as she follows him in. “I always thought Toro was a cute name, you know. How did you come by such a nickname?” It’s nice to be in a quiet place, it always feels like Ryoko is surrounded by people, always been asked to do things. In a strange way being sent back in time has made things quieter, a little more peaceful. But Ryoko has to wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that she’s not a celebrity here like she is back home. “I know you’re best friends with the biggest names in superheroes but… if you need any help with anything.. I’ll be around for awhile.” 

Bucky visits Thomas often. Things that keep him died to his past make him feel a little more in control, a little more himself. Even though it’s a sad sight, it brings back good memories. Memories of best friends in old army tents and the singe of fire on the hairs of his skin. That burn would be welcome again any day, that and the sadness that comes with it. Even mourning is an emotion that Bucky welcomes after having nothing for so many years. However, mourning isn’t really what’s happening here. More so confusion. Out of all the time he’s visited, he’s never seen anyone else. He’s the one leaving the flowers, keeping it clean. He’s not sure why anyone be here now. Bucky approaches cautiously, not sure what he should expect with whoever is lingering at his friend’s grave. A part of him doesn’t want anyone else to be here, this is his time to mourn not having to share this time with anyone else. However as he nears… a funny sort of feeling fills his chest. A familiar voice makes his hair stand on end. “Thomas?” He says. “Toro?” His voice a little more distressed than it was a moment before. “I.. I don’t either. – But Jesus Christ. You’re here?” 

His tombstone seems to be well taken care of. Which surprises Thomas since it wasn’t like he had any children to carry on a legacy. His only family for many years growing up had been Jim, an android who’s blessed with immortality, who adopted him from a young age. They traveled all over the country helping out whoever needed The Human Torches. He remembers hearing all the stories about how his father wasn’t received well at first, the thought of a man who was covered in flames didn’t go over well with the public. Humans were afraid but eventually some of them changed their minds. Bucky Barnes came into his life soon after and had been the first person his own age that didn’t treat him like a freak. It was nobody’s surprise when they became the best of friends. Jim even started treating the other boy like his own son and Bucky would call him ‘pa’ instead of anything else. They’re all good memories but that doesn’t leave many options for who could be responsible or maintaining his tombstone. It’s large, taller than him even and a statue of himself is on the top. Time has been kind to his resting place. Thomas just wishes that he could have lived longer. It makes sense seeing his best friend here, makes him realize who has been helping clean the place and leave fresh flowers.