To be whole

How do you learn to be human? ((An independent RP blog for a post-TWS Bucky Barnes, will be THOROUGHLY jossed by Cap 3. Self-interpreted but primarily MCU-based. Some AU traits.))

[rxssianwintxr-blog]

Undertow (Closed)

[hisownman]

rxssianwintxr:

Charlie approached camp clutching two hot dogs, a third devoured quickly as she moved for the camp easily.

They’d been here longer than usual to investigate a potential situation with two HYDRAs working and Charlie had no intentions of investigating yet. For one, the enemy they stalked might know her face. For another, they needed intel enough to let her blend in, so instead she made supply and meal runs in her non-work gear, and now had brought suppper.

She was satisfied the camp was still there, albeit messy, the hot plate waiting to be powered, various pancake supplies sealed, and Charlie snorted, approaching Bucky slowly.

“Hey, Bucky, I got dinner so-”

And then she paused. His hair was off, just so. Two shades lighter. A quarter inch longer. Both easily ignored commonly - if they weren’t used to looking for tells, and Charlie mentally - and promptly - cursed her recklessness, deciding not to show the surprise and immediate alarm seeing this other Barnes. She had no idea if James had hidden on his approach if he’d heard one, or if James had been compromised, but she wasn’t going to let a fight brew, just in case.

She just needed caution.

“-so we’re not stuck arguing over pancakes or fries to go with the rest of dinner again.” She finished after her brief pause. She mentally swore at her tell, but didn’t respond further.

She’d gauge for now, and see what this Soldier did.

The Asset had stumbled upon the camp while seeking his own shelter for the night. It had appeared empty and deserted, but he knew the signs of recent inhabitants. He was also aware of a concealed watcher somewhere nearby, but couldn’t pinpoint the location just yet.

He was just beginning to work that out when the crashing footsteps of someone not attempting to be stealthy approached, and suddenly he was being addressed. By that name again.

Only this person, when he whirled around to stare at her, was entirely unfamiliar. She didn’t have that ring of ‘IknowhimIknowhim’ that the man on the bridge helicarrier had sported, and yet she was treating him with the familiarity of a friend.

It was curious - and confusing. He considered reaching out to snap her neck, but with an unknown nearby he wanted to gather more data before his programming regarding eliminating unwanted witnesses kicked in. So instead, he simply waited in silence, wanting to see what the stranger would do.

[timidlittlemouse-blog]

Small (Closed)

[hisownman]

timidlittlemouse:

hisownman:

timidlittlemouse:

hisownman:

The spare key would be under a brick. The Asset wasn’t certain why it had entertained such a thought, but knew that it didn’t apply to this situation. There was no brick near the doorway to this house, so why would there be a spare key underneath one?

And yet somehow it… felt right, to think that. A spare key under a brick at a small apartment in Brooklyn—-

Groaning and not entirely capable of muffling his cry, the Asset pressed his back to the wall and aggressively pinched the bridge of his nose in his flesh hand, hoping it would stave off the headache that had flared up like white-hot arcs of l i g h t n i n g, searing his mind and trying to take him a w a y again, again and again and again again again again…

The snake didn’t respond, but the woman did, turning towards the noise like a deer and blinked, fearful a moment before registering it was a cry of pain. Not an animal either - Erin didn’t know who it was, though, but he was… Not exactly a small man either, and a motion seemed to draw a few birds to watching as a long, soft series of chirps and whistles came from the woman, followed by a distinct bark, a golden, shaggy, thin retriever peering from an alley and Erin approached, hands in view. She was terrified, but, Lily, Eddie, and the birds could get help or fight… And she’d be a bird herself to flee if needed.

“H…Hello? A…Are you alright? I… I can hear you, uhm…”

The Asset swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat and groaned, a wordless expression of mixed pain and frustration. Eyes snapping open, he fixed his stare on the woman, gaze flat yet focused, with the stillness of a feral predator.

Wait. She wanted an answer?

“…No.” 

That would work, wouldn’t it? It was true enough, after all. “…I need…” the memories to stop. The cold of the cryochamber. Something. “…Maintenance.”

Steven warned her something had happened with HYDRA lately and to watch for abnormal activity. She was to watch and be cautious and if HYDRA approached to hide as much as possible. He never said what to do about a situation when she was followed and not attacked or confronted however and she thought carefully of how to address this.

Maitenence implied property, something her mother would’n’t tolerate regardless. It also implied a HYDRA connection and Erin wasn’t entirely sure she;d survive if HYDRA caught her. She was smaller than Steven. Weaker too, but she did have her animals and there were always more in the area and her eyes drifted to Eddie to get his opinion, hissing softly to the serpent. The predator responded with soft hissing, sliding close to inspect the odd man before recoiling, moving to his human to drape, hissing in her ear as if some secret, and she nodded.

He didn’t smell right - she agreed. And she was sure he was likely in some trouble if HYDRA wasn’t hunting a pet, and the girl decided to tuck under his arm - if he attacked, Eddie could attack, or the many birds congregating to observe, and she made a soothing noise.

“You can come inside. I have a guest room and we’ll get some hot food and a drink in you, alright? You’ll be okay.” She said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. “Come on, it’s alright.”

This was... unexpected. He didn’t know how to respond to this sort of treatment. There were no orders for him to fall back on, no parameters... he didn’t know what to do.

And since he didn’t know what to do, maybe his best option was simply to... go along, for now. If nothing else, he was being offered shelter. He could obtain it on his own, of course, but the idea of having a base of operations while he sorted out what to do was... appealing.

In the end, he nodded absently and let her lead him toward her home. Except... wait. “Your key.”

[twacorbie-blog]

Scruffball [Closed]

[hisownman]

twacorbie:

hisownman:

Jim, World War II. Odd, how that had an ever-so-slightly familiar ring to it. What that was, he couldn’t say, and dismissed it outright. Instead, he nodded again. This was easy enough - he just had to formulate a cover and utilize it until an alternative method of extraction could be found. 

So long, of course, as (Steve) the mission could be successfully evaded. “That sounds… nice,” he offered, pulling at the frayed edges of his mind for a mission-appropriate response, wooden expression shifting into something like a smile (although perhaps it ended up more like a sneer) as he accepted the woman’s offer.

“Forgot how to smile?” She motioned for him to follow her, making sure not to make any moves that could spook or be taken as hostile. “Cuong’s place has some good eats and coffee, too. And as I said…this one’s on me.”

Smile... right. He could do that. A little effort, an attempt to pull up a cover, and his expression shifted into a more natural appearance. He didn’t quite understand the expression, but it was an appropriate response to the parameters he was attempting to follow. 

He moved after the... not a target, not a handler... person, mind stilling in the relief of not having to reevaluate everything constantly and just follow orders for once in what had been far too long.

[timidlittlemouse-blog]

Small (Closed)

[hisownman]

timidlittlemouse:

hisownman:

The spare key would be under a brick. The Asset wasn’t certain why it had entertained such a thought, but knew that it didn’t apply to this situation. There was no brick near the doorway to this house, so why would there be a spare key underneath one?

And yet somehow it… felt right, to think that. A spare key under a brick at a small apartment in Brooklyn—-

Groaning and not entirely capable of muffling his cry, the Asset pressed his back to the wall and aggressively pinched the bridge of his nose in his flesh hand, hoping it would stave off the headache that had flared up like white-hot arcs of l i g h t n i n g, searing his mind and trying to take him a w a y again, again and again and again again again again…

The snake didn’t respond, but the woman did, turning towards the noise like a deer and blinked, fearful a moment before registering it was a cry of pain. Not an animal either - Erin didn’t know who it was, though, but he was… Not exactly a small man either, and a motion seemed to draw a few birds to watching as a long, soft series of chirps and whistles came from the woman, followed by a distinct bark, a golden, shaggy, thin retriever peering from an alley and Erin approached, hands in view. She was terrified, but, Lily, Eddie, and the birds could get help or fight… And she’d be a bird herself to flee if needed.

“H…Hello? A…Are you alright? I… I can hear you, uhm…”

The Asset swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat and groaned, a wordless expression of mixed pain and frustration. Eyes snapping open, he fixed his stare on the woman, gaze flat yet focused, with the stillness of a feral predator.

Wait. She wanted an answer?

“...No.” 

That would work, wouldn’t it? It was true enough, after all. “...I need...” the memories to stop. The cold of the cryochamber. Something. “...Maintenance.”

[timidlittlemouse-blog]

Small (Closed)

[hisownman]

timidlittlemouse:

hisownman:

The asset had been tailing the girl for some time now. Why, he couldn’t say. The small woman had no connections to HYDRA. There was no intel on her, no reason for him to target her. There wasn’t even the nagging sense of familiarity that Rogers, Steven, had held. If he could feel such things, let alone put them into words, he might have put it down to ‘curiosity’. But the asset didn’t feel such things, and so there was really no reason to be doing this.

… And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even when she reached her apparent destination.

Did she really just cheep?

Erin did chp, once, twice, looking around for the following figure, but, seeing nothing, she made  soft hiss to the cottonmouth, before whimpering. It responded, before sliding to hide, the girl beginning to feel under pots and bowls.

“Keys… Keys… Oh… Spare key…”

The spare key would be under a brick. The Asset wasn’t certain why it had entertained such a thought, but knew that it didn’t apply to this situation. There was no brick near the doorway to this house, so why would there be a spare key underneath one?

And yet somehow it... felt right, to think that. A spare key under a brick at a small apartment in Brooklyn----

Groaning and not entirely capable of muffling his cry, the Asset pressed his back to the wall and aggressively pinched the bridge of his nose in his flesh hand, hoping it would stave off the headache that had flared up like white-hot arcs of l i g h t n i n g, searing his mind and trying to take him a w a y again, again and again and again again again again...

[twacorbie-blog]

Scruffball [Closed]

[hisownman]

twacorbie:

hisownman:

“Overseas…?” It took him a moment to understand what she meant: she was mistaking the Asset for a military man, likely one who had suffered difficulty readjusting to civilian life following an unforgiving and at least mildly traumatizing service term. Well, it was as good a cover as he was going to get, for now, so he nodded slowly. 

“Want some coffee and something to munch? My treat. Dad’s Army, and Grandpa Jim never quite shook off World War Two.” She had no issues treating a military man who looked like he needed some compassion. “I know a place that’s quiet, never too crowded, and has seats near the exits where you can put your back to the wall.” She herself occupied them for different reasons.

Jim, World War II. Odd, how that had an ever-so-slightly familiar ring to it. What that was, he couldn’t say, and dismissed it outright. Instead, he nodded again. This was easy enough - he just had to formulate a cover and utilize it until an alternative method of extraction could be found. 

So long, of course, as (Steve) the mission could be successfully evaded. “That sounds... nice,” he offered, pulling at the frayed edges of his mind for a mission-appropriate response, wooden expression shifting into something like a smile (although perhaps it ended up more like a sneer) as he accepted the woman’s offer.

[timidlittlemouse-blog]

Small (Closed)

Erin crept along the sidewalk, Eddie coiled in a manner to hide his markings as the small woman in a baggy sweater andpink tights hurried down the street, eyes focused on making it to her home with her animals quickly.

All she’d gone to do was deliver a newly trained service pet to a kind gentleman needing the perfect support animal, and all she wanted was to get home, but it was dark and she’d been warned about dark. Dark was unsafe, and Erin just wanted to get home with Eddie quickly, fearing a car. Stilll, it didn’t help when Eddie commented on a scent that began trailing them.

Not a bit.

Erin soon reached home and began to move for her front door even as the cottonmouth slid down, coiling near her as she fumbled for keys in, and whined nervously. HYDRA was exposed, meaning Steven feared another problem, and that meant family dangers, and the girl made a distressed cheep as she checked for her keys, and cried.

“Eddie, I think I lost my keys!”

[hisownman]

The asset had been tailing the girl for some time now. Why, he couldn’t say. The small woman had no connections to HYDRA. There was no intel on her, no reason for him to target her. There wasn’t even the nagging sense of familiarity that Rogers, Steven, had held. If he could feel such things, let alone put them into words, he might have put it down to ‘curiosity’. But the asset didn’t feel such things, and so there was really no reason to be doing this.

... And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even when she reached her apparent destination.

Did she really just cheep?

[twacorbie-blog]

Scruffball [Closed]

[hisownman]

“You… misunderstand,” the Asset responded, grimacing as he forced the words out. This wasn’t a mission report, so speaking this much was both uncomfortable and unusual.  “I have no destination.” Extraction points compromised, he added silently, but knew better than to say such things to an apparent civilian.

What was a foodie? Irrelevant to the mission, but it could nonetheless come in handy in order to build cover, so he filed away that word for later use as necessary.

[twacorbie-blog]

The way he talked, he almost reminded her of some of the harder-hit vets. Something in her expression and stance softened, became a little less guarded. “Never quite shook overseas?” She wasn’t a therapist, or anything, but…well, she knew how to deal with some things, if only by merit of her own non-war PTSD, and what her Dad and Grandpa Jim had. Some things you just couldn’t shake.

She had no idea just who she was talking to, and how not-correct her assumption was.

[hisownman]

“Overseas...?” It took him a moment to understand what she meant: she was mistaking the Asset for a military man, likely one who had suffered difficulty readjusting to civilian life following an unforgiving and at least mildly traumatizing service term. Well, it was as good a cover as he was going to get, for now, so he nodded slowly. 

[twacorbie-blog]

Scruffball [Closed]

[hisownman]

“No,” the Asset answered, some moments after realizing that he was being addressed directly. This didn’t usually happen, especially not when he was caught in a situation so far out of mission parameters. (At least, it wasn’t within his programmed responses. If there had been a situation wherein similar had happened, it had been wiped from his memory long ago.

“I am… devoid of destinations.” Why he felt the need to tack that on to his initial answer, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps it had something to do with the voice at the back of his mind, the one that had been growing louder ever since the target (Steve) had fallen, and never quite grew fully silent again, no matter how he attempted to hush the persistent voice.

[twacorbie-blog]

“There’s gotta be somewhere in DC you haven’t been. I mean, plenty of exploring to do around here.” She shoved her laptop into her backpack, raising a brow as she stood up. “The National Mall itself is pretty big. And there’s a pretty substantial food scene around if you’re a foodie or just hungry. Hell, there’s even an arcade bar.” Poor guy looked…kind of like he needed a shave or something. [And familiar, but she wasn’t going to worry about that, really. You saw-but-didn’t-meet a lot of people running through DC.] “I’ve been living here a while. Need directions, I can do my best to help.”

[hisownman]

“You... misunderstand,” the Asset responded, grimacing as he forced the words out. This wasn’t a mission report, so speaking this much was both uncomfortable and unusual.  “I have no destination.” Extraction points compromised, he added silently, but knew better than to say such things to an apparent civilian.

What was a foodie? Irrelevant to the mission, but it could nonetheless come in handy in order to build cover, so he filed away that word for later use as necessary.

[twacorbie-blog]

Scruffball [Closed]

There were days, after the fall of SHIELD, that Kai went digging through the records released. Because she had a very, very personal dislike of HYDRA. How dare they remain after her grandfather and his comrades fought so hard to wipe them out. How dare they still exist after all the hell they caused. She was…well, more than a little upset.

That particular day, she was even more upset than usual as she shut her laptop with more force than usual, flopping against the back of the wall she was situated against. “Fucking fuckity fu-” And blinked as she was derailed by the site of a rather scruffy individual. “…You lost, dude?” Toooouriiiists.

hisownman

[hisownman]

“No,” the Asset answered, some moments after realizing that he was being addressed directly. This didn’t usually happen, especially not when he was caught in a situation so far out of mission parameters. (At least, it wasn’t within his programmed responses. If there had been a situation wherein similar had happened, it had been wiped from his memory long ago.

“I am... devoid of destinations.” Why he felt the need to tack that on to his initial answer, he wasn’t certain. Perhaps it had something to do with the voice at the back of his mind, the one that had been growing louder ever since the target (Steve) had fallen, and never quite grew fully silent again, no matter how he attempted to hush the persistent voice.

[hisownman]

((So I’m rebooting this here buckyblahg and gonna try to get active again. WISH ME LUCK OK))