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psychiccatnipHis apartment was not in the best neighbourhood. They never had been as long as he could remember and that suited him fine to be honest. Anywhere more stable and he's start to get settled and complacent and he'd learnt early on that complacency got you beaten up at best, dead at worst. He made up for the rickety dead-bolt with a security set-up that would put the ones in most suburban homes to shame and would probably keep a few companies on their toes into the bargain. he was rather proud of it actually.
He locked up carefully, shoving the keys into his pocket as he jogged down the steps of the apartment block to the road outside. He'd switched the suit that he kept for business purposes for jeans and a t-shirt; inconspicuous and nonthreatening and if there was a taser shaped bump under his jacket then sue him, he was paranoid.
Groceries. He needed groceries. He had been in Florida for three weeks for a job and it'd been too late when he'd arrived back to grab anything. New computer parts, whatever he could get his hands on. A new couple of shirts since one of his had been unfortunately knifed through and the next one he'd thrown away since the blood would be impossible to get out.
He hated clothes shopping.
He sighed and headed down the street in the direction of the nearest store.
He locked up carefully, shoving the keys into his pocket as he jogged down the steps of the apartment block to the road outside. He'd switched the suit that he kept for business purposes for jeans and a t-shirt; inconspicuous and nonthreatening and if there was a taser shaped bump under his jacket then sue him, he was paranoid.
Groceries. He needed groceries. He had been in Florida for three weeks for a job and it'd been too late when he'd arrived back to grab anything. New computer parts, whatever he could get his hands on. A new couple of shirts since one of his had been unfortunately knifed through and the next one he'd thrown away since the blood would be impossible to get out.
He hated clothes shopping.
He sighed and headed down the street in the direction of the nearest store.
Wouldn't this be considered hazing...?
May. 20th, 2012 09:15 ampieceofmindEver since the... experiment... Brandon swore that he wouldn't let that be the end of the matter. Perhaps his mind was fractured, perhaps he'd lost a lot of his powers, but he wasn't going to leave it there. No, he continued to practice regularly, desperate to see even a marginal improvement in what he could do. So far, that improvement had eluded him, but he wasn't going to give up. He couldn't give up, not when it meant admitting that he'd never be whole again.
That was why he was in one of the shooting ranges at SHIELD's headquarters, practicing his psychokinesis. His amplifier held in one hand, his eyes squeezed shut, he slowly held up his free hand. As he did so, one of the darts set in the table before him trembled and then started floating in mid-air, slowly rotating itself to point at the target before him.
One short grunt, and he sent the dart shooting forward. The shot was... workable. On the paper, though not in the bullseye, and at that distance that wasn't too bad. Even still, Brandon scowled once he saw the results. "Shit," he swore, letting his manners go a little now that he was alone. That wasn't nearly good enough!
So he started the process over again, closing his eyes and psychokinetically raising another dart. He just needed to concentrate, focus, clear his mind and put everything into the mental effort. Maybe that was the problem, maybe he just needed to focus more...
That was why he was in one of the shooting ranges at SHIELD's headquarters, practicing his psychokinesis. His amplifier held in one hand, his eyes squeezed shut, he slowly held up his free hand. As he did so, one of the darts set in the table before him trembled and then started floating in mid-air, slowly rotating itself to point at the target before him.
One short grunt, and he sent the dart shooting forward. The shot was... workable. On the paper, though not in the bullseye, and at that distance that wasn't too bad. Even still, Brandon scowled once he saw the results. "Shit," he swore, letting his manners go a little now that he was alone. That wasn't nearly good enough!
So he started the process over again, closing his eyes and psychokinetically raising another dart. He just needed to concentrate, focus, clear his mind and put everything into the mental effort. Maybe that was the problem, maybe he just needed to focus more...
A Little Light Theft: Tony Stark's lab
May. 20th, 2012 05:11 ampsychiccatnipYas didn't mutter underneath his breath as he fiddled with the door mechanism. He was confident but wasn't stupid, the monumental stupidity of breaking into this particular lab notwithstanding. He wasn't going to put himself in any more danger than he really had to. It was risky enough. Everyone knew that Tony Stark was a bit... well, he was rich so people called it eccentric. Stuff got glossed over that way when you were rich.
There was a spark, something giving and he left out a soft sigh of relief as the door slid open, silent as a breeze. The lights flickered on as soon as he stepped inside, making his breath catch thick in his throat until he realised that they were automatic. All he could do was grit his teeth and move further in and cross his fingers.
The light did allow him to get a good look around and it was almost worth it. The place was pretty much a gold mine of technology and the thought of getting free reign for even five minutes made his mouth water. He had to drag his gaze away from the suits along the back wall, red and gold gleaming in the light.
No. Work first.
He reluctantly turned away from the more interesting toys in favour of the computers which were, unsurprisingly, the best that anyone could get their hands on. The best that no-one could get their hands on if the things he'd heard were to be believed. They lit up like a Christmas tree beneath his touch and he beamed. "Good girl..." he whispered, starting to explore the interface with one hand while reaching for his data stick with the other.
"Well, actually..."
The voice came from everywhere. Definitely male and kind of English and Yas might, just might, have yelped.
There was a spark, something giving and he left out a soft sigh of relief as the door slid open, silent as a breeze. The lights flickered on as soon as he stepped inside, making his breath catch thick in his throat until he realised that they were automatic. All he could do was grit his teeth and move further in and cross his fingers.
The light did allow him to get a good look around and it was almost worth it. The place was pretty much a gold mine of technology and the thought of getting free reign for even five minutes made his mouth water. He had to drag his gaze away from the suits along the back wall, red and gold gleaming in the light.
No. Work first.
He reluctantly turned away from the more interesting toys in favour of the computers which were, unsurprisingly, the best that anyone could get their hands on. The best that no-one could get their hands on if the things he'd heard were to be believed. They lit up like a Christmas tree beneath his touch and he beamed. "Good girl..." he whispered, starting to explore the interface with one hand while reaching for his data stick with the other.
"Well, actually..."
The voice came from everywhere. Definitely male and kind of English and Yas might, just might, have yelped.
Plotting and stuffs!
May. 14th, 2012 06:24 pmagent_cupidSO I think its safe to say everyone's seen Avengers at this point and since there's been some new people dragged into the madness that is here, I figured it would probably be smart to toss up a plotting post or a general character info post for wherever we are as of now to babble since plurk gets long and rambly and isn't always the best format for doing this. So feel free to drop a comment in here with your character and maybe what they're involved in or what you'd like them to be involved in and then grab other people for ALL THE TAGS. Because yeah, this musebox is kinda good for that. XD
Consulting Day
May. 12th, 2012 04:27 pmconsultingheroTony loved it when his birthday came early. Sure, he was a billionaire a few times over, but everyone still loved getting gifts from their dearest friends and most bitter enemies who had to play nice in public. And this year, on this day, Tony Stark's gift had come in the form of SHIELD asking for help, because they needed his expertise. Tony couldn't have asked for more. Except maybe one of those cards where they could've actually recorded Phil Coulson or Nick Fury saying the words. He wasn't picky, and either would've sufficed. Maybe a note of praise at the end. Something heartfelt and meaningful, about Tony being the greatest scientist ever. Or greatest human being. To reiterate, not picky.
He sauntered into SHIELD HQ, ignoring the bustling junior agents around him in favor of playing with his phone. Tony hadn't thought he would've liked Angry Birds so much as he did, because seriously, all the game required was a basic ability to calculate angles on sight. Still, there was something extremely satisfying about making smug pigs disappear into a puff of smoke. Also, Tony now craved a BLT. Clearly that meant finding someone to fetch it for him.
[ooc: Open to anyone! We're saying Tony was called in to help with the Loki project especially, but he can be distracted or wind up anywhere. It's Tony.]
He sauntered into SHIELD HQ, ignoring the bustling junior agents around him in favor of playing with his phone. Tony hadn't thought he would've liked Angry Birds so much as he did, because seriously, all the game required was a basic ability to calculate angles on sight. Still, there was something extremely satisfying about making smug pigs disappear into a puff of smoke. Also, Tony now craved a BLT. Clearly that meant finding someone to fetch it for him.
[ooc: Open to anyone! We're saying Tony was called in to help with the Loki project especially, but he can be distracted or wind up anywhere. It's Tony.]
phil_coulsonPulling James Barnes out of Russia had been the easy part of the operation, and that was saying something, because it had been in no way easy or even remotely legal, but it had been the only way. They'd bought him from a broker who wanted them to think he didn't know who he had on his hands, or what he could do. They still had operatives working their way up that chain, trying to trace this back to what he hoped wouldn't be another Red Room operation, but in the meantime the deal had gone through all too smoothly, and Coulson thought he might actually like it even less than Fury did.
He'd grown up on stories about Captain America. He and his friends had taken turns pretending to be Captain Rogers and his Howling Commandos. He'd never imagined that they'd find the Captain's best friend nearly seventy years later, brainwashed almost beyond hope. The assassin known as Winter Soldier had been little more than a ghost until they started putting the pieces together, and now he was going back to the grave. Officially, they needed to be sure Barnes wasn't a sleeper, and that he was relatively sane besides. Unofficially - well, that was irrelevant.
The transfer to the New York facility had been quick and quiet and restricted under Level 7 security protocols. They'd kept Barnes under even after they brought him out of cryostasis and locked him down besides. No one got near unaccompanied, and only a handful of Agents even knew he existed at the moment. Specialist Brandon Young was one of them.
Coulson had some limited experience with people who had superhuman abilities, but it was enough that he didn't think this idea was entirely insane. It was certainly the best shot they had.
A scan of his prints let him into the room where Young waited to be briefed. The man was almost startlingly, well, young, which was always one thing to see on a file, and almost another thing entirely in person. Coulson had a reputation among the junior agents: most of them thought he was a hardass, if they thought anything of him at all.
"Specialist Young," He held out his hand as he approached, smiling politely. "I'm Agent Coulson. I'm here to brief you on the details of your assignment. You'll be reporting directly to myself or Director Fury for the duration. As you've no doubt gathered, we'd like this to be kept as quiet as possible."
He'd grown up on stories about Captain America. He and his friends had taken turns pretending to be Captain Rogers and his Howling Commandos. He'd never imagined that they'd find the Captain's best friend nearly seventy years later, brainwashed almost beyond hope. The assassin known as Winter Soldier had been little more than a ghost until they started putting the pieces together, and now he was going back to the grave. Officially, they needed to be sure Barnes wasn't a sleeper, and that he was relatively sane besides. Unofficially - well, that was irrelevant.
The transfer to the New York facility had been quick and quiet and restricted under Level 7 security protocols. They'd kept Barnes under even after they brought him out of cryostasis and locked him down besides. No one got near unaccompanied, and only a handful of Agents even knew he existed at the moment. Specialist Brandon Young was one of them.
Coulson had some limited experience with people who had superhuman abilities, but it was enough that he didn't think this idea was entirely insane. It was certainly the best shot they had.
A scan of his prints let him into the room where Young waited to be briefed. The man was almost startlingly, well, young, which was always one thing to see on a file, and almost another thing entirely in person. Coulson had a reputation among the junior agents: most of them thought he was a hardass, if they thought anything of him at all.
"Specialist Young," He held out his hand as he approached, smiling politely. "I'm Agent Coulson. I'm here to brief you on the details of your assignment. You'll be reporting directly to myself or Director Fury for the duration. As you've no doubt gathered, we'd like this to be kept as quiet as possible."
Assholes Only
Apr. 3rd, 2012 03:57 pmcomplicatedliarDisappointingly enough, Tony Stark wasn't in his office when Loki arrived. Though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, considering rumor had it that the man's work ethic fell somewhere on the scale between Paris Hilton's and the average bonobo (the sort in a zoo that didn't have to hunt for food and consequently just laid around and masturbated all day).
So he made himself comfortable, sitting in Tony's chair, feet up on Tony's desk as he read through Tony's new issue of Popular Mechanics since it was cute to see what the mortals were up to these days. After a moment, he also had Tony's coffee cup go make itself an espresso and return, so he could enjoy that as well.
Because, well, boredom. It was a terrible thing.
So he made himself comfortable, sitting in Tony's chair, feet up on Tony's desk as he read through Tony's new issue of Popular Mechanics since it was cute to see what the mortals were up to these days. After a moment, he also had Tony's coffee cup go make itself an espresso and return, so he could enjoy that as well.
Because, well, boredom. It was a terrible thing.
Welcome to New York
Mar. 12th, 2012 04:21 pmagent_cupidClint guided the Quinjet down onto the landing pad with careful hands and an alert eye. The aircraft prototype handled like nothing else, a joint project with tech from Wakanda and Stark Industries and Clint was still a little overly cautious when he was flying it. When anything with Stark was involved, he was half tempted to expect it to turn into a giant robot or worse, drop out of the sky with warning. Still, he pulled the landing off without a hitch, coming to rest smoothly outside SHIELD HQ as he flipped off the controls and cleared the last of the landing procedures with the pleasant female voice over his headset, who had laughingly returned his flirting and had him grinning as he moved back into the main body of the jet.
It was a strange sight, the two gods and two young women in the back of the jet. Thor was sitting on one of the benches – the place he’d been most comfortable for the flight – while Sif sat across from him, having watched the entire flight from the window with avid interest. Both Asgardians had been understandably wary about being transported in the jet – or metal wingless beast, as it had been originally dubbed - and Clint had had his hands full with talking Thor out of flying the entire way. Lucky Doctor Foster had backed him on that, but it had taken a taunting jibe from Sif to finally get the scowling thunder god on board. Clint was pretty sure he was the only one who’d seen the female warrior flash him a sly wink before following him inside. Clint was fairly certain she was his favorite person at the moment. He had not been looking forward to Fury’s lectures if they’d gotten back to New York just in time to field all the reported sightings across the country of a flying man.
“Welcome to HQ, kids,” Clint retorted with a cheerful grin, his hands propped easily on his hips as he came back. “Safe and sound and all in one piece. I’m sure the welcome party’s out there for you, but I need to get you up to the Director’s office before we wander off for more sightseeing.”
Since that was Clint’s favorite part, no matter how many glowers he got from Fury for stealing SHIELD assets out into the city at large. It wasn’t like he was going to lose them. Although, granted, he suspected keeping a leash on the Asgardians, Doctor Foster, and Darcy was going to be considerably more of a challenge than showing Bucky the sights had been.
Still, the thought had him grinning in anticipation as he hit the hatch that opened the hatch and let the landing ramp lower into the secured courtyard he’d landed them in.
It was a strange sight, the two gods and two young women in the back of the jet. Thor was sitting on one of the benches – the place he’d been most comfortable for the flight – while Sif sat across from him, having watched the entire flight from the window with avid interest. Both Asgardians had been understandably wary about being transported in the jet – or metal wingless beast, as it had been originally dubbed - and Clint had had his hands full with talking Thor out of flying the entire way. Lucky Doctor Foster had backed him on that, but it had taken a taunting jibe from Sif to finally get the scowling thunder god on board. Clint was pretty sure he was the only one who’d seen the female warrior flash him a sly wink before following him inside. Clint was fairly certain she was his favorite person at the moment. He had not been looking forward to Fury’s lectures if they’d gotten back to New York just in time to field all the reported sightings across the country of a flying man.
“Welcome to HQ, kids,” Clint retorted with a cheerful grin, his hands propped easily on his hips as he came back. “Safe and sound and all in one piece. I’m sure the welcome party’s out there for you, but I need to get you up to the Director’s office before we wander off for more sightseeing.”
Since that was Clint’s favorite part, no matter how many glowers he got from Fury for stealing SHIELD assets out into the city at large. It wasn’t like he was going to lose them. Although, granted, he suspected keeping a leash on the Asgardians, Doctor Foster, and Darcy was going to be considerably more of a challenge than showing Bucky the sights had been.
Still, the thought had him grinning in anticipation as he hit the hatch that opened the hatch and let the landing ramp lower into the secured courtyard he’d landed them in.
tightsofmightWhat is this It's a meme. It's also the opposite of mandatory because it's basically an excuse for plurk-enabled idiocy.
What? Action tags/comment spam.
What the fuck? This fits in with almost none of the continuities we have but guess how many fucks I give. If you guessed none you are probably right.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS IT'S A GAME NIGHT FOOLS. And it's taking place for no good reason and against all logic at Aunt May's humble abode. All Avengers, SHIELD agents, deities and general spandex aficionados are invited, so y'all can hop in and do whatever you like.
Just don't break the house for the love of god. People have to live there.
What? Action tags/comment spam.
What the fuck? This fits in with almost none of the continuities we have but guess how many fucks I give. If you guessed none you are probably right.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS IT'S A GAME NIGHT FOOLS. And it's taking place for no good reason and against all logic at Aunt May's humble abode. All Avengers, SHIELD agents, deities and general spandex aficionados are invited, so y'all can hop in and do whatever you like.
Just don't break the house for the love of god. People have to live there.
agent_cupidThere was a bit of a mix up with Puente Antiguo's single motel, not made any easier by the Asgardian's unfamiliarity with modern workings or Thor's accustomed attitude of "this is needed, make it happen." In fact, they all nearly got booted out of said motel before even securing additional rooms, but fortunately Clint stepped in and resolved everything before the crochety old man behind the desk decided to go fetch his shotgun or something.
Clint added one more line on his 'reasons I hate New Mexico' list.
In the end, they ended up securing a single room for Sif while he ended up agreeing to bunk down with Thor. It was only for a day or two and Clint had certainly had to hole up in worse places. How bad could sharing a room with a god possibly be?
....He really hoped he wasn't going to regret those words.
Still, afterwards the five of them had retreated to the lone bar the town boasted, which was actually fairly decent, and it was obvious Thor was already a regular. Here, at least, the Asgardian seemed to have little trouble adapting and the other locals eyed their table with a mix of confusion and indulgent bemusement as they had dinner and drinks and talked about whatever topic came up. Which was wide and varied and ended up being more fun than Clint had had in a while, if he were perfectly honest with himself. Things had been tense the past few weeks and everyone had been a little stressed when Fury had started moving things forward on the Initiative. Clint was still fairly certain the man was legitimately insane, but whatever came of this was sure to be entertaining - in a good or bad way, he hadn't decided yet - so Clint was in for the ride.
After dinner was done, Jane excused herself to finish some tests up at the lab and Darcy latched onto Sif's arm with a look in her eye that had Clint thanking all the gods that existed that it wasn't directed at him. The female warrior only looked mildly concerned as the petite brunette all but dragged her from the bar, claiming there was a tequila bottle back at the lab with their name on it.
Which left Clint and Thor at a table in the middle of a tiny bar with unlimited access to alcohol. Maybe New Mexico wasn't all that bad after all...
Clint added one more line on his 'reasons I hate New Mexico' list.
In the end, they ended up securing a single room for Sif while he ended up agreeing to bunk down with Thor. It was only for a day or two and Clint had certainly had to hole up in worse places. How bad could sharing a room with a god possibly be?
....He really hoped he wasn't going to regret those words.
Still, afterwards the five of them had retreated to the lone bar the town boasted, which was actually fairly decent, and it was obvious Thor was already a regular. Here, at least, the Asgardian seemed to have little trouble adapting and the other locals eyed their table with a mix of confusion and indulgent bemusement as they had dinner and drinks and talked about whatever topic came up. Which was wide and varied and ended up being more fun than Clint had had in a while, if he were perfectly honest with himself. Things had been tense the past few weeks and everyone had been a little stressed when Fury had started moving things forward on the Initiative. Clint was still fairly certain the man was legitimately insane, but whatever came of this was sure to be entertaining - in a good or bad way, he hadn't decided yet - so Clint was in for the ride.
After dinner was done, Jane excused herself to finish some tests up at the lab and Darcy latched onto Sif's arm with a look in her eye that had Clint thanking all the gods that existed that it wasn't directed at him. The female warrior only looked mildly concerned as the petite brunette all but dragged her from the bar, claiming there was a tequila bottle back at the lab with their name on it.
Which left Clint and Thor at a table in the middle of a tiny bar with unlimited access to alcohol. Maybe New Mexico wasn't all that bad after all...
Flashback: Bucky's Rescue
Jan. 9th, 2012 10:31 pmagent_cupidClint hated hospital rooms. Even ones that weren’t meant to look like a hospital room. They still had that same sterile, cold feel about them, the kind of atmosphere that just gave him the creeps. Then again, he’d landed himself in enough hospital beds over the years to justify his dislike of the place.
Fortunately for him, this wasn’t one of those times. No, he was here purely for the poor bastard lying all too still in the bed beside his chair. The man was scarred and scruffy and looked pale in the fluorescent lighting overhead. A single sheet covered his body, wrapped up in a standard-issue hospital gown. The one that let you moon the entire world when you got up if you weren’t careful. The man was hooked up to half a dozen machines clustered around the head of the bed, monitoring everything from heartbeat to temperature to the acidity of the man’s piss, for all Clint knew. The scientists had gone a little nuts when he and Natasha had brought this one in. Some high security top secret trade with Russia that Clint still didn’t understand, but it had made Tasha go tight-lipped and cold with some reaction he hadn’t been able to pester out of her yet. She knew more than she was telling, but that was typical with his partner. Tasha always kept a lot of secrets.
Still, all Clint knew about the guy he was here babysitting was that the order to retrieve him had come from the top, straight down from Nick Fury himself and when they’d shown up at the exchange location, the Russian diplomat had rolled out this giant test-tube thing with a body inside and Clint had been certain that they were getting duped out of whoever this Winter Soldier was supposed to be. Only Natasha hadn’t seemed at all surprised and went on as if everything was business as usual, so he’d followed along after her, which was normally what he was good at. He was an enforcer, the sharpshooter. He left all the political wrangling and espionage in Tasha’s very capable hands and everything usually went smoothly.
Until, of course, they got back to headquarters and Tasha got called to Fury’s office for briefing while he got sent here to babysit a corpse. Or something. He had no idea what was with the body they’d retrieve, other than the guy’s birthdate on his chart – which Clint had read in a fit of sheer boredom – made him almost as old as his grandfather. Which made no sense, since the guy looked barely older than Clint himself. Impressive genes there.
Of course, there was only so much one could do while sitting in an empty hospital room with beeping monitors and a guy that might as well be dead. The chart had been a quick read. The tiny tiles in the ceiling had taken him all of ten minutes to count. Then his imagination had started kicking in to help with the fidgety boredom and he started picturing all the things that could go terribly wrong in this situation.
Like Clint sneezing and the guy suddenly crumbling into mummy dust. Or the dude was a vampire and Clint would end up dinner at sundown. Not that Clint would mind a vampire, exactly, but if he was gonna get sucked on, he much preferred it to be a hot chick with better curves and considerably less stubble. Or… no, he was stopping there, because one of the monitors gave an alarming sort of beep that was not at all usual and Clint found himself sitting straight up in his chair with a concerned look, eying the safety restraints on the man’s arms and ankles skeptically just in case.
Fortunately for him, this wasn’t one of those times. No, he was here purely for the poor bastard lying all too still in the bed beside his chair. The man was scarred and scruffy and looked pale in the fluorescent lighting overhead. A single sheet covered his body, wrapped up in a standard-issue hospital gown. The one that let you moon the entire world when you got up if you weren’t careful. The man was hooked up to half a dozen machines clustered around the head of the bed, monitoring everything from heartbeat to temperature to the acidity of the man’s piss, for all Clint knew. The scientists had gone a little nuts when he and Natasha had brought this one in. Some high security top secret trade with Russia that Clint still didn’t understand, but it had made Tasha go tight-lipped and cold with some reaction he hadn’t been able to pester out of her yet. She knew more than she was telling, but that was typical with his partner. Tasha always kept a lot of secrets.
Still, all Clint knew about the guy he was here babysitting was that the order to retrieve him had come from the top, straight down from Nick Fury himself and when they’d shown up at the exchange location, the Russian diplomat had rolled out this giant test-tube thing with a body inside and Clint had been certain that they were getting duped out of whoever this Winter Soldier was supposed to be. Only Natasha hadn’t seemed at all surprised and went on as if everything was business as usual, so he’d followed along after her, which was normally what he was good at. He was an enforcer, the sharpshooter. He left all the political wrangling and espionage in Tasha’s very capable hands and everything usually went smoothly.
Until, of course, they got back to headquarters and Tasha got called to Fury’s office for briefing while he got sent here to babysit a corpse. Or something. He had no idea what was with the body they’d retrieve, other than the guy’s birthdate on his chart – which Clint had read in a fit of sheer boredom – made him almost as old as his grandfather. Which made no sense, since the guy looked barely older than Clint himself. Impressive genes there.
Of course, there was only so much one could do while sitting in an empty hospital room with beeping monitors and a guy that might as well be dead. The chart had been a quick read. The tiny tiles in the ceiling had taken him all of ten minutes to count. Then his imagination had started kicking in to help with the fidgety boredom and he started picturing all the things that could go terribly wrong in this situation.
Like Clint sneezing and the guy suddenly crumbling into mummy dust. Or the dude was a vampire and Clint would end up dinner at sundown. Not that Clint would mind a vampire, exactly, but if he was gonna get sucked on, he much preferred it to be a hot chick with better curves and considerably less stubble. Or… no, he was stopping there, because one of the monitors gave an alarming sort of beep that was not at all usual and Clint found himself sitting straight up in his chair with a concerned look, eying the safety restraints on the man’s arms and ankles skeptically just in case.
soldier_onLadies and gentlemen of the Marvel Box, let's have a little more fun.
-> Post your character(s), with any ideas of what you'd like to do together. Memories/meetings/headcanon/plot, whatever. Putting down 'anything' or 'x and y should thread' is also fine. We'll work it out.
-> Respond to each other and discuss!
-> Threads happen. 8D
If it helps, the New Mexico guys (Thor, Sif, Darcy, Clint + Jane) will be in New York within the (in-game) week but anyone else could easily be there already. You know, hangin out. Makin superfriends.
Trolling Steve is a highly recommended pastime and group bonding activity. He's a pretty cute chorus girl too, just fyi.
-> Post your character(s), with any ideas of what you'd like to do together. Memories/meetings/headcanon/plot, whatever. Putting down 'anything' or 'x and y should thread' is also fine. We'll work it out.
-> Respond to each other and discuss!
-> Threads happen. 8D
If it helps, the New Mexico guys (Thor, Sif, Darcy, Clint + Jane) will be in New York within the (in-game) week but anyone else could easily be there already. You know, hangin out. Makin superfriends.
Trolling Steve is a highly recommended pastime and group bonding activity. He's a pretty cute chorus girl too, just fyi.
complicatedliarIt had taken every trick in Loki's considerable repertoire to arrive in Asgard ahead of Brokk and Eitri. As he strode down the halls toward his Odin's throne room, he tucked his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He fought to control his breathing, to appear calm and in control. The effect was ruined by the tattered state of his coattails, by the wildness of his hair, and the vivid streak of blood that had run from his forehead and past the corner of his eye.
He would explain it, all of it to Father. Well, all that he safely could. Thor's part in the escapade, he would leave out. As much as it gave him pleasure to tweak his brother whenever possible, he owed Thor this one and he would keep his peace. But Father would understand, would no doubt see the cleverness in the plan, would appreciate the gifts he had brought back in addition to the newly-rescued Mjolnir...
The throne room was filled to the point of bursting, though that was not unusual for the day and time. The court turned to look at him, his footfalls loud and hollow, but he told himself that, too, was not unusual.
Then across the crowd of gathered Aesir, he spotted the dark, stumpy forms of the dwarven brothers. His breath caught in his throat with shock, and there was a slight stutter in his step, but otherwise his expression was well-schooled enough to not show his dismay.
Head high, he walked to the steps of the throne and dropped to one knee. "Father, I have won gifts for you, and for the Queen." With a clever movement of his hands he turned the armlet, the golden boar, from the pockets in space he'd used to hide them, and set them on the floor. Mjolnir, he still kept hidden, the titanic weight a strain on his magic that was beginning to make his head pound. He imagined that the dwarves had the common sense to not mention Mjolnir as part of the wager and spoils he had won; surely they must have kept that silent if they were playing for Odin's sympathy.
"Loki." Odin's voice rolled like thunder. It was not the tone that Loki had hoped to hear his name spoken in. "I have been told that you won these gifts dishonorably."
Loki looked up, meeting his father's eye. He saw nothing there but a mirror, that showed a pale but resolute image. "I would beg to differ. I promised them my head, but gave them no leave to touch my neck. It is no fault of mine if the good dwarves did not fully consider the terms."
Brokk cursed him; Eitri grabbed his brother's arm. "We no longer desire his head. We accept your judgment on this matter," the dwarf said.
Loki's eyebrows went up. "Judgment?"
Odin stood. "You have treated friends of Asgard falsely, Loki. It is luck for all of us that they have accepted this, and ask but a pittance in return. The people of other realms might not be so kind." Odin's voice became cold. "Words have as much power as actions, Prince. And you must consider your words, and your wagers more carefully for what they could cause."
Loki bowed his head. "Of course. I understand."
"I don't think that you do." Odin said. Loki looked up sharply to see him wave a guard over. The man held a tray, with a spool of coarse black twine and a needle. "Brokk and Eitri have proposed a punishment I find most fitting. Your words have caused much trouble, Loki. It would be best if you take time to think before speaking so glibly again." The court dissolved in an uproar.
It didn't have to be spelled out any further than that. Loki swallowed hard, but he could also see no path of escape in his father's face. And he refused to beg shamefully in front of the entire court. His head felt strange, light and far away. "I understand."
It was only then that he realized that the noise of the court was not disagreement or protest.
They were laughing.
He would explain it, all of it to Father. Well, all that he safely could. Thor's part in the escapade, he would leave out. As much as it gave him pleasure to tweak his brother whenever possible, he owed Thor this one and he would keep his peace. But Father would understand, would no doubt see the cleverness in the plan, would appreciate the gifts he had brought back in addition to the newly-rescued Mjolnir...
The throne room was filled to the point of bursting, though that was not unusual for the day and time. The court turned to look at him, his footfalls loud and hollow, but he told himself that, too, was not unusual.
Then across the crowd of gathered Aesir, he spotted the dark, stumpy forms of the dwarven brothers. His breath caught in his throat with shock, and there was a slight stutter in his step, but otherwise his expression was well-schooled enough to not show his dismay.
Head high, he walked to the steps of the throne and dropped to one knee. "Father, I have won gifts for you, and for the Queen." With a clever movement of his hands he turned the armlet, the golden boar, from the pockets in space he'd used to hide them, and set them on the floor. Mjolnir, he still kept hidden, the titanic weight a strain on his magic that was beginning to make his head pound. He imagined that the dwarves had the common sense to not mention Mjolnir as part of the wager and spoils he had won; surely they must have kept that silent if they were playing for Odin's sympathy.
"Loki." Odin's voice rolled like thunder. It was not the tone that Loki had hoped to hear his name spoken in. "I have been told that you won these gifts dishonorably."
Loki looked up, meeting his father's eye. He saw nothing there but a mirror, that showed a pale but resolute image. "I would beg to differ. I promised them my head, but gave them no leave to touch my neck. It is no fault of mine if the good dwarves did not fully consider the terms."
Brokk cursed him; Eitri grabbed his brother's arm. "We no longer desire his head. We accept your judgment on this matter," the dwarf said.
Loki's eyebrows went up. "Judgment?"
Odin stood. "You have treated friends of Asgard falsely, Loki. It is luck for all of us that they have accepted this, and ask but a pittance in return. The people of other realms might not be so kind." Odin's voice became cold. "Words have as much power as actions, Prince. And you must consider your words, and your wagers more carefully for what they could cause."
Loki bowed his head. "Of course. I understand."
"I don't think that you do." Odin said. Loki looked up sharply to see him wave a guard over. The man held a tray, with a spool of coarse black twine and a needle. "Brokk and Eitri have proposed a punishment I find most fitting. Your words have caused much trouble, Loki. It would be best if you take time to think before speaking so glibly again." The court dissolved in an uproar.
It didn't have to be spelled out any further than that. Loki swallowed hard, but he could also see no path of escape in his father's face. And he refused to beg shamefully in front of the entire court. His head felt strange, light and far away. "I understand."
It was only then that he realized that the noise of the court was not disagreement or protest.
They were laughing.
Flashbacks
Dec. 4th, 2011 12:46 amshield_maidenSif slammed the lid of her small jewelry box shut with a decisive click, a scowl crossing her reddened lips as she started sorting through the mess cluttering the surface of her vanity, looking for her favorite pair of hairpins. She’d been certain she’d left them in her small box before heading out to her morning training, but now they were nowhere to be found and it was one more annoyance to add to her lengthening list of the day.
“Blast,” she hissed out, slamming a fist against the surface of her vanity as she sank down on the bench, frustration welling up within her with a suddenness and a force that for a moment, she couldn’t think. It was such a little thing, but the little things had been adding up over the past few days and this was almost the straw that was her breaking. Struggling with her emotions, she gritted her teeth, rubbing angrily at her eyes before she caught sight of the door across the room in her mirror’s reflection. It was cracked open, just as it had been when she’d returned to her room after training, something she’d taken no notice of at the time but now made her suspicious.
Her gaze narrowed as it turned on her jewel box once more, her lips twisting downwards for a moment in speculation. “Dammit, Loki,” she hissed after a moment, pushing herself to her feet and stalking out of her room once more. She knew she’d put those pins in her box, she could remember it clearly. If they were not there now, it was through no fault of her own.
Her strides were determined, almost angry as she left her own home and crossed the square, returning to the palace she’d left a short time before. She was still dressed in her training gear – a simple bound corset adorned with bronzed mail and soft leather breeches with a belted sash of deep scarlet, the colors of her father’s house. Her pale blond hair was drawn back in a braid to keep it out of her face while she practiced. She’d had no more plans for the rest of the morning beyond taking a long soak to ease her sore muscles – training had been especially brutal this morning. It always was when she was partnered against Brull. The older boy was a brute, and a strong one. What he lacked in wits and speed, he made up for in sheer strength and he’d managed to get the best of her today. She’d been distracted and slower than her usual self and she was going to sport several vibrant bruises on her ribs and arms before the day was out.
The fact that she had to postpone her bath to search out her own missing possessions was not improving her mood any.
No one was foolish enough to interrupt her – Sif within the palace walls was as common a sight as one of the royal family. Not to mention that most people were wise enough to get out of her way when they caught sight of the expression on her face. She stalked through familiar halls with a purpose, only pausing when she came to the entrance of the library that the younger son of Odin had been haunting recently. The doors banged against the walls when she stormed in, but she didn’t care as she started off down the shelves, searching for the source of her ire.
“Blast,” she hissed out, slamming a fist against the surface of her vanity as she sank down on the bench, frustration welling up within her with a suddenness and a force that for a moment, she couldn’t think. It was such a little thing, but the little things had been adding up over the past few days and this was almost the straw that was her breaking. Struggling with her emotions, she gritted her teeth, rubbing angrily at her eyes before she caught sight of the door across the room in her mirror’s reflection. It was cracked open, just as it had been when she’d returned to her room after training, something she’d taken no notice of at the time but now made her suspicious.
Her gaze narrowed as it turned on her jewel box once more, her lips twisting downwards for a moment in speculation. “Dammit, Loki,” she hissed after a moment, pushing herself to her feet and stalking out of her room once more. She knew she’d put those pins in her box, she could remember it clearly. If they were not there now, it was through no fault of her own.
Her strides were determined, almost angry as she left her own home and crossed the square, returning to the palace she’d left a short time before. She was still dressed in her training gear – a simple bound corset adorned with bronzed mail and soft leather breeches with a belted sash of deep scarlet, the colors of her father’s house. Her pale blond hair was drawn back in a braid to keep it out of her face while she practiced. She’d had no more plans for the rest of the morning beyond taking a long soak to ease her sore muscles – training had been especially brutal this morning. It always was when she was partnered against Brull. The older boy was a brute, and a strong one. What he lacked in wits and speed, he made up for in sheer strength and he’d managed to get the best of her today. She’d been distracted and slower than her usual self and she was going to sport several vibrant bruises on her ribs and arms before the day was out.
The fact that she had to postpone her bath to search out her own missing possessions was not improving her mood any.
No one was foolish enough to interrupt her – Sif within the palace walls was as common a sight as one of the royal family. Not to mention that most people were wise enough to get out of her way when they caught sight of the expression on her face. She stalked through familiar halls with a purpose, only pausing when she came to the entrance of the library that the younger son of Odin had been haunting recently. The doors banged against the walls when she stormed in, but she didn’t care as she started off down the shelves, searching for the source of her ire.
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