my earth

!! earth19125 !! ;; this blog is a multi-muse & multi-ship marvel roleplay blog inspired by my own personal rewrite of marvel lore & stories. these characters might as well be ocs at this point. i am still in the process of watching all the movies and reading all the comics so i might miss things or not know things. be nice this is for fun. open to ocs & crossovers.

indie , selective , literate , mutuals only & private. 20+ !! . . . . musings by marble, 23, he/it/they/she . . . . HEAVY & MATURE THEMES WILL BE PRESENT: will always be tagged appropriately . . . . DNI: zionists, homophobes, racists, ableists, maps, etc.

it was mary's birthday. and jim had orchestrated a tiny little celebration at the tower for her. and of course, jim's favorite little newbie avengers were invited. mary and bob were the last ones in the little conference room that had been decorated and celebrated in for all of maybe forty five minutes. and bob had presented mary with a birthday card and flowers.

" oh of course not, bob. i don't think it's too much at all. " mary cooed happily, craddling the flowers to her chest. " it was very sweet of you to get me anything at all. " she looked around the at the now empty room and let out a deep sigh. " guess everyone is done for the day. " her smile leaned a little sad. perhaps she was selfish for it, but she never felt like the center of attention anymore. not sense her hero days were behind her. since more powerful heroes had come along. she just wished her birthday could last a little longer. " i guess i better be done too. " she let out a sigh and stretched her arms over her head. " unless you'd like to join me for dinner? " she offered, casting a soft glance to bob, her eyes shining like sunlight.

Thomas is quite uncomfortable given the current circumstances. He wants to be happy that Bucky is back, he wants to celebrate. But even before he saw this Bucky, he couldn't bring himself to. He hadn't changed in the same ways Bucky had, and maybe not as drastically, but he definitely hadn't gone up in the world or gotten any better. Maybe he had for a moment, as a hero under the guidance of Jim. But the disappearances of his friends, and the deaths of too many loved ones had wore him down to bone and he couldn't feel the dead nerves anymore. Just ghosts of pain wilting against the calcium within him.

He doesn't flinch at Bucky's response, he just.... stands there. And stares at Bucky for a long time. He wants to understand. He wants to reach out. But neither of them are the same anymore. The world wasn't the same anymore.

Thomas is silent and looks away for a moment. He pulls a pack of cigarettes, mostly empty, from his pocket and lights one. A habit he had picked back up since Bucky had vanished. He placed it in his mouth and lit the tip of his finger aflame and caught the end before taking a long drag. He let the smoke out through his nose before looking back at Bucky again.

His eyes weren't sad when they looked at Bucky. Yearning maybe, if you looked hard enough. But otherwise glassy and simple. Thomas wanted things to be simple. But of course they never were.

"Yeah I don't know you anymore, Bucky. Hell it's been how many years?" He sighs like he's tired and squeezes the back of his neck as if it aches but it doesn't. "And you don't know me anymore. But... I don't know, Bucky if..." He struggles for words and lets out a frustrated groan. He takes another puff of his cigarette hoping it'll help him focus but of course it doesn't. "If you... If you want to... If you want to learn each other again, I... I'd..." He looks away again, "I think I'd like that. At least to try. I know things aren't the same. Maybe it would be better if they were. But we're both here now. And... you may not be the Bucky I knew before. But maybe this Bucky," he motions to the other man with his hand holding the cigarette, "can get along with this Thomas." He motions to himself with the same hand.

He takes another puff and tucks his free hand into his pocket. "It's just an offer. You don't have to take it. But the offer won't go away if you don't take it. I'll still be here. You'll know where to find me." It's a promise, one he hopes sounds sincere. Thomas is trying to be sincere. Something he's perhaps lost the knack for in the years of isolation he accumulated. Why now? Why reach out now?

Because it was Bucky. It was Bucky. Not the same Bucky, but still Bucky. Someone Thomas thought he'd lost forever. And someone he hadn't had the courage to face again till recently. But he wanted to see Bucky again. The knowledge that Bucky was back had haunted him till he saw the man again. He couldn't believe it was true. And it wasn't true. This wasn't the Bucky he had loved known before. This was a new man, shaped by the things he'd seen. But inside Thomas... inside his heart there was a glimmer of a flame that was only being kept alive by the thought that maybe... maybe he could have a friend again.

Cathal stood facing his desk, back to Zeke. His office is dark and messy. There are papers everywhere. One of the chairs in front of his desk is tipped over. There are missing books from the shelves, strewn about open to random pages. A space that was clearly used often and left seldom. It's daytime but you wouldn't know that thanks to the black out velvet curtains that hung heavy over the only window in the room behind the desk. The only light source in the room was a lamp, on the desk, it's pull cord hanging in the air like a vine.

The office is quiet for perhaps far too long after Zeke speaks. Cathal's hands shift on the desk, going from fists to palms to clawing to gripping. Finally they stop with his nails digging into the wood.

'At least I wrote.'

The words still hung heavy in the air. Cathal felt his past encircle him like a shroud. He fights the sadness tugging at his heart. He shuts his eyes and stays silent. "You're not sorry. You spoke your mind." He snaps back impatiently, his body hot and cold at the same time. "I-... I wanted..." I wanted to write back. But he didn't say the words he wanted to. He shut his mouth instead and let even more silence fall upon them.

"I was dedicating myself to my purpose." Is what he says instead. An excuse. And one rehearsed and fed to him by Mr. B. It was Mr. B who cut off Cathal from writing again. Who convinced him to stop. Who told him it wasn't worth the time and effort, especially when there was a more important project at hand. Who knew why Mr. B was allowing someone so close to Cathal again. Cathal couldn't even think about why. Mr. B was all he had.

pic of the view below the cut