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@ashesandvalor
✭✭✭ --- p r i v a t e & highly selective rp blog for steve grant rogers --- low to medium activity ---
MCU based - canon compliant until Avengers: Endgame. please see the Premise for current main verse.
✭✭✭--- status: testing muse & writing
P R E M I S E ✭B I O ✭ M E M E S ✭
✭✭✭--- R U L E S below the cut
ㅤHe knew that look on Steve's face before the idiot even opened his mouth and he knew that it was going to be something that annoyed the crap out of him. "Okay, there was nothing 'press release' about that because I'm not allowed to say I want people to leave me alone," he retorted, which was true - he had a lot of what he was allowed to say where cameras could be or on the internet.
ㅤSteve hadn't given him an answer at all, which he hadn't missed, but he also let it go for the moment in favor of a mirroring look around. "You don't like the decor or the purpose?" he asked, just as casually as he'd answered previously, but he was watching him for that answer. If Steve was unhappy about the new Avengers situation, he wouldn't be the first or the only one because Bucky was absolutely even more unhappy about it than he was. There was just that whole thing about not having a choice, just like Steve had said.
ㅤ"Not much of a fan myself, but nobody actually asked me."
✭✭✭ ----- Something of amusement sneaks its way into the bright blues, one brow rising just a fraction. ' That first bit did have a hint of everything is fine and under control flavor...' and the tease is lighthearted, there is warmth in his voice and it's almost as it was before, almost.
' Neither.'
The answer slips out, a bit faster that he would have liked, but there was no point in skirting around the issue, and another sweeping assessment of the walls follows, a pause when gaze settles on the bar. ' Both. It's not just the place, it's also what it's trying to be.'
And maybe nostalgia colored his vision a fraction too much, maybe time and distance made it all a bit shinier and more comfortable than it actually ever was.
' It doesn't look like people live here ya know? There's no- ' friends, soul '- stuff... in it'
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] fortunately no
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] how would one ever earn that officially??
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] also i would never give up that title
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] especially not to sam
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] This planet has a competition for everything
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] Why not one where your glutes are assesst in an arena of squealing fans while you battled Stark bots
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] Or a poll of some kind
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] especially not him?
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] you're just looking for an excuse to see battles and competition i think
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] sam has too much ammo to begin with
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] if he gets that title also he'll be even more insufferable than he is now
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] so i'm gonna defend it
@ashesandvalor doesn't have to explain himself but we love him for it anyway.
✭✭✭ ----- ' Yeah, maybe I did go about it all wrong, but I really had no choice.... I guess I expected you to be okay, or at the very least, to not be alone for a while....'
ㅤ"I am okay and I wish people would leave me more alone," he offered up, tone and body language kept incredibly casual about the whole thing because that was definitely how he felt about it all, right? Right. The absolute last thing he needed to drop on his best friend right away was a heap of his own issues that were not Steve's problem, and therefore also not currently important. He'd figure his shit out. "So now that's cleared up, how'd the rest go? You're here, so I'm assuming you pulled it off."
✭✭✭ ----- That was a little bit too casual to his liking, and he can't keep the skepticism from washing over his features, albeit quickly. Still, he let's it slide for now, offering a nod in understanding and casual shrug in return. ' Do you want the press release version of it, like you did just now, or the truth? '
A pause, the faintest glint of warmth in the tone, and he takes a moment to take in the space with a mild frown. ' The place looks nice, can't say I like what they did with it though...'
"Good," she said, and followed the motion in the cabin. Between tales of the Warriors Three and the Avengers, she noted that Thor had a fondness for ritual and inside jokes. The opposite answer wouldn't have shocked her.
Once she'd walked into the room, her eyes were drawn to the mantle, curious to see what he'd prized enough to set above his hearth.
Metal tags draped over a frame holding the image of him with an arm wrapped around a dark-haired man. Her mind supplied four different names before settling on James Barnes. Beside it, there's a photo of him and the current Captain America, Sam Wilson, standing behind the famed shield. In a slightly larger photo, the original Avengers sat together out of armor. Spotting a familiar obnoxiously wide grin next to Steve, she let out an amused puff before moving to sit.
"As for his Majesty, ever occupied. Now that the returned Asgardians have settled in, a quest must resume. Daily governing and international bureaucracy persist." Though loath to while his presence, with Thor back in New Asgard, she prised him, "He fulfills his duties better than he believes, but than anyone else could. I won't complain about the personal distraction, he's… lighter for it," she shrugged then corrected, "Was lighter. The disappearance of one Asgardain would weigh on him were our numbers vast."
Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a communicator, then started to check for any updates.
"That is why I am here."
✭✭✭ ----- Steve let the door fall shut behind the warrior, the soft click sealing them into the hush of wood and stillness.
He moved with the quiet economy of someone who'd grown used to living small, coffee mugs near the sink, boots by the stove, every corner of the room holding a sort of quiet that doesn't happen in cities.
When she stopped at the mantle the soldier did as well, and his breath came with a small, almost embarrassed exhale, her scrutinizing gaze undoubtedly making quick assessment of the meager amount of personal artifacts.
It was easier to carry those moments inside than to have someone else look at them, and he was grateful for the lack of questions and for the ease with which she continued.
' Thor has always juggled several worlds at the same time,' Steve said at last, something of a faint smile emerging after the words. ' I'm glad some of the heaviness of that weight eased, even for a little while.'
There was a hint of that old admiration in the tone, and the man paced for a moment, eventually setting hands on the back of a chair, finding a familiar resting place against a patch of wood.
Already there was some tension in his being; watching the Asgardian check the communicator, that small flicker of attention to something far, and he felt the old tuning fork feeling in his ribs again, that pull toward the next fire that needed putting out tugging at his nerves.
' So... ' and he crafts his words carefully then, finally placing himself in a seat. ' Zero pleasantries and serious matters, I should've known something was up when the messages got short and to the point.'
Ocean blue eyes fixed upon the Asgardian, a nod in reassurance given.
' Tell me what you know.'
Chris Evans as Steve Rogers AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR
steve rogers + the ssr uniform
@ashesandvalor: didn't see an option for ask <3
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] Is America's Ass a formal title?
[ msg to: nomadic captain ] Is Sam now America's Ass?
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] fortunately no
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] how would one ever earn that officially??
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] also i would never give up that title
[ sent: v a l o r - v al ] especially not to sam
CHRIS EVANS as Steve Rogers / Captain America AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR | 2018
An arm half stretched to the door when it opened, every muscle reflexively halted like they'd been trained to do, careful as she had learned to be on this extremely breakable planet, Val thought her steps quite enough. Slope in her brow and humming, jutting lip, she nodded during his greeting, mildly impressed that the former captain had caught her approach.
"As per his majesty's plan." Rolled eyes accompanied her reply. "Preferring few be made aware of this… visit. Communications out of New Asgard are limited for now, and I even landed miles away." A thumb hitched over her shoulder towards a ridge in the distance where a small ship was parked.
The Valkyrie had a sneaking suspicion that fond as her king was of Steve, she'd been ordered to do so as a setup of sorts. There's no decent mead to be found in this world, but if there were, she'd wager it all on Thor asking if she'd reach the door before it opened.
"For all the good it did." At least Steve was here, and she wouldn't have to wait however long between operations for his return. "Do I get to come in now, or is there a secret handshake you Old-Avenegers require before a mission is underway?"
✭✭✭ ----- The door had only been open for a small moment, and Steve caught the flicker of stopped movement.
It wasn't hesitation, not really, but training, precise and measured, a learned thing that seemed ingrained.
Standing framed in the spill of light the narrow warmth of the cabin hits at his back, collides with the sharp breath of wind she carried with her. Years had taught him how to read silences as easy as words, and hers pressed in, almost unyielding.
The answer came with an arched brow, her lip curled sharp with amusement and words rolling over Thor's "plan" with a tone that made him suspect she didn't put half the faith in it that Thor himself surely did.
He smiled before meaning to, glancing over her shoulder knowing he wouldn't be able to see the ridge she pointed at but still trying. Thor had moved the pieces on the board now, nudging this one forward that was all edge and suspicion, armored in loyalty, and Steve wasn't sure if the Valkyrie played her part willingly or only because she'd been asked.
In the end, it wouldn't really matter.
' No handshake,' he told her, voice rough and edged with weariness he couldn't seem to shake off at all these days. ' You walk though, you're part of it. That's all.'
His hand raised and opened up in an inviting sort of wave, an unspoken welcome lingering in the gesture.
' How is our comrade King anyway?
✭✭✭ ----- The cabin wasn't much.
Four walls, a roof that held through rain, and a window that let just enough light in to keep the ghosts from settling there permanently and too vividly.
Steve had gotten good at being still, good at listening to the creak of the wood and the breath of the wind in the rafters, good at enduring the silence and good at being grateful there was nothing that asked questions.
He didn't expect company, the past few years or so, he never did.
Something stirs in his chest like a rusted hinge moving after too long when he hears someone approach, whoever it was doing a very poor job at trying to be careful.
There's only a handful of people who would bother to come this far, and still there is care, and apprehension, and that tick in his jaw before he opens the door. Always on edge, still, ready to go, and move, and-
He opens the door before the visitor reaches it, squints for a moment when the light falls just right, catching the edges of the person.
" .. Hey... I did not expect you of all people..."
You owe yourself a life that feels like breath, not survival.
✭✭✭ premise
--- Some men don't go to war, they are made of it. And even after the guns fall silent, it stays beneath the skin.
Steve Rogers gave the shield, the war, and the weight away.
But no man outruns history, not even one who danced with it, bled for it, watched it grow old and heavy in his heart.
He stepped out of time and into myth, but the myth has teeth.
And even myths grow weary sometimes.
Now the world spins without it, too fast and too cruel, too loud in his ears and too bright to be comfortable. And still, somewhere in the corners of this world, people still disappear into cages, into conflicts and systems too vast to control.
So he walks again, without banners, no medals on the horizon. There's a quiet team who rescues the forgotten and displaced. They don't need a symbol, only a man who remembers what it's like to be lost to the war, how to grieve the dead and carry the living. And he knows like no other how to do that.
He doesn't know if he's a soldier or a relic. But he knows how to find what is lost.
This isn't redemption, it isn't duty. It's grief in motion, and mercy without permission. It's the last echo of someone that once believed in better days.
He's not trying to save the world, just exist in what's left of it, and bring the people home.
✭✭✭ -----
( The battlefield stank of ozone and ash, the silence after victory heavy as a mass grave. All around him wreckage. Fallen titans, bloodied comrades, emergence of the illusion of peace.
He was still standing, not whole, but standing nevertheless.
The plan was simple: slip through the veins of time, stitch the wounds shut, vanish into the quiet of a life not lived. But Steve Rogers, ashes and valor, man and myth, looked at the path laid before him and turned away.
This was never his story to end. Even if he did, the world would still suffer.
He never stepped into the past, instead he stepped away from the world stage. Away from the headlines, shedding the armor and the icon. He let the myth of Captain America move on, gave the burden of it to Sam, but carried the bones of who that was into places cameras and comrades didn't go.
There were whispers of disappearances, soldiers bartered like currency, and cold wars still faught in the shadows. And when the governments fell silent, Steve listened, and not only answered, but moved.
The new team found him, or maybe, he allowed himself to be found. Not because they needed a captain but because he could not stay idle. Sometimes the war within, and outside, never ends, it only grows quiet. And Steve Rogers still hears the cries no one else listens for.)
✭✭✭ -----
After the events of Endgame Steve has spent several months under the radar, mostly roaming the world. Despite his reluctance and aversity to several organizations in particular, one of them eventually got a hold of him, asking for his help with locating and extracting POW's all over the globe. Somewhat comforted by the notion that this was a private organization funded by [redacted] he accepts the offer under the condition that he will not be leading the teams.
Trust is a fragile thing, accepting your fate can be difficult, but this is what he knows, and for now that is enough.
By his body’s clock, there’s been less than five years from the beginning until now, from knit top to body armor, from showgirl to warrior of legend, from Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) to Captain America (aka Steve Rogers). He’s barely thirty, which nobody seems to realize or remember. It’s just as well because sometimes he feels all of the ninety-six years the calendar gives him. Never more so than when he looks at the photos and rare scraps of video from before, when he can see how much the transition has cost him and how much of it he paid even before Bucky fell. He never meant for war to become his life, let alone the only thing he understood. And yet it has.
#Fandom always talks about how much Bucky has changed#and how Steve will have to deal with a possibly darker Bucky#but I wonder how heartbroken Bucky will be when he realizes that STEVE has changed too#That Steve hardly smiles and always looks so tired.#That his once idealistic and optimistic friend can barely remember why he fights#and is always battle-ready because he no longer sees an end to the war.#The world has changed Steve and hardened him even more.#but Captain America is still keeping up appearances (via assetandmission)
