Star-Spangled Man with a Plan

[hehadaplan]

@theironavenger

Steve is just... “The bed fr-- the ne-- THE NEXT TIME? THE NEXT TIME? THE NEXT TIME?!”

[errant-paladin]

I can not, in good conscience, stand idly by while people are in danger.

That doesn’t change, no matter who I have to face.

[hehadaplan]

//Imagine if Steve Rogers was manipulated into picking up a Blackened Denarius.

That would be terrible.

[hardwiredweird]

Good morning, Captain...

[hardwiredweird]

"Hey there..."

[hardwiredweird]

Taking a day to relax.. Apparently both me and Steve.

[hehadaplan]

//Aw, a deleted scene from The Avengers. Haven’t seen this before.

[hardwiredweird]

Pinned

[sawasawako-archived]

one of the worst things the marvel movie franchise has done is turn superheroes into agents of capital and the government… like the whole point of superheroes is that they’re anti-establishment, they fight against corruption of power and institutional authority, they abide by a moral code separate from that of everyday society. and yet marvel has aligned them with the us military, enlisted them under the causes of those in power, stripped them of their subversive nature. i don’t think that’s forgivable

[hardwiredweird]

Slow and tender.

[wandaland-deactivated20230510]

your tumblr icon is now your roommate, how’s everything? :)

[ilustrariane]

8 tier prize for the winner on my PATREON - Bearded cap/ Steve Rogers

[spdermen]

CHRIS EVANS as STEVE ROGERS AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018) dir. Joe and Anthony Russo

[hardwiredweird]

"Put down that sketchbook and come to bed!"

[theironavenger]

I can hear Tony's voice calling for Steve

[hehadaplan]

@theironavenger​ from here.

No, he hadn’t been keeping tabs. Not any more than usual, anyway. Bucky’s recovery, though slow and often very rough, had been cumulative, and it had been good to see the rare glimpse of his old friend shining through every now and again. There had been days, even after Bucky’s escape from Hydra, when Steve had wondered if he had truly lost his friend on the day he’d fallen from the train. When he’d wondered if everything he’d been had been burned away for good by Hydra’s horrific machines.

And yes, it was good to see that Stark had gotten past his frankly homicidal urges towards Bucky, though he wasn’t so sure he appreciated the... urges... that had apparently replaced them. But they were both adults, both had... well, most of their faculties intact (how much was often debatable), and they both had their own lives. He wasn’t going to go around making decisions for either of them. 

Tony was... chaotic. He was impulsive. He was reckless. But he was sincere and fiercely loyal to the people he chose to allow close. Steve had seen some of that loyalty directed his way, and had felt honored by it. In his first months out of the ice, after the Battle of New York, when he had been trying to find his footing in a strange world, Tony had been there for him. Offering him friendship. Standing by him as an ally, as someone to watch his back, someone to fight alongside. And now Tony... he was reaching out to Bucky in the same way. He was making an effort, in his own way, and Bucky was slowly but surely starting to warm to it, to let someone past those overly-fortified walls. That was good. That was what Steve had wanted to see from the start.

So why was he suddenly feeling like an outsider again?

“Why would it be surprising to me?” It came out a little sharper than he intended, and he sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “I told you, I think it’s a good thing. I’m glad you’re getting along so well.”

[hehadaplan]

winterbound​:

‘ i just want you to know who i am ’ (from Steve/hehadaplan)        @hehadaplan​

IT’S NOT THAT HE DOESN’T KNOW HIM. He does, but his memories are —— to put it mildly —— a mess of uncertainty, cracked and uncertain and mixed with horrors, and he’s not sure what’s real and what’s imagined. But he DOES know there’s familiarity here —— a familiarity that’s almost so intense it’s painful, but it’s the kind’ve thing he simultaneously desperately wants to keep close even if he doesn’t yet fully know why. Old things have been drifting back, slowly and unevenly, and trying to piece them together is sometimes like trying to put together a puzzle for a picture that you don’t have a reference for. 

“ I do know who you are. ” His voice sounds —— hoarse. Rough. Thick in his throat, and his gaze cuts upward to catch Steve’s before his brows knit and his mouth thins and his eyes jerk away again. Guilt, and he doesn’t even know why he’s guilty, but he feels it. “ I just don’t —— remember why. Not all the way. Just in bits and pieces and —— ” Another tight swallow. “ I’m —— sorry. That I don’t remember more. ” 

The lines of Bucky’s face deepen for a moment, shadows darkening his eyes, and Steve feels his heart twist in his chest as he again remembers the file. The information there had been incomplete, a rough sketch, but the photograph he had seen when he had first opened the folder would be forever seared into his memory, into his nightmares. 

They had stashed him away in a freezer like an object. Like a thing. Like he wasn’t even a person.

He wants to tear it all down with his bare hands. Everything Hydra had built. He wants to raze it to the ground and salt the earth. 

A quiet, seething part of himself that stays hidden behind layers upon layers of Good and Right and Moral wants to see their blood flow for what they’ve done. He won’t give in to it. He won’t be that person, won’t become that monster. But sometimes... sometimes he wants it.

(And sometimes he thinks he should be the one who’s punished)

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck,” he says quietly. “For anything.” He studies his hands. “I should be the one apologizing. You...” You shouldn’t have had to go through any of this. “You’re here now. That’s what counts.”

[hehadaplan]

@winterbound​ said:

“I don’t know how to be in this world without you.”

The diner, like the two wounded old soldiers standing side-by-side in front of the sign that said Please wait to be seated, was a relic from a bygone era. It had been repainted, re-upholstered, re-carpeted, re-tiled, re-everythinged after a fire had hollowed it out in ‘73, and several times after that.

Now, it had a little touch of its former decor, just enough to be nostalgic, but not enough to be the original. The original was lost to history, to the old black-and-white framed photos that decorated the wall behind the pie display like ghosts.

He knew how that felt. And he knew Bucky did too.

He wanted to sling an arm around Bucky’s shoulders like old times, maybe give him a playful muss of the hair as he told him everything would be fine, that they’d both be fine, but those times were gone, and so were the people they once were. So he kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket and studied his shoes for a minute before looking up and gazing through the window. Traffic flowed by. A bird called nearby, answered by another bird somewhere in the distance. A family of four pulled into the parking lot and the father unloaded a bulky stroller from the trunk, settling a squirming, rosy-faced toddler into it and strapping her in while the older child stood by.

“I know how it is,” he said softly. “Feelin’ so out of place. Not knowing what to do with yourself after... everything.” He looked at his friend, and again felt the ache of knowing what had been done to him, the ache of knowing that he had not been there to save him. “You’ll find your footing. And I’ll be there to help you find it. I just have to do something first.” He smiled, and tried to coax the smile to reach his eyes. “Everything’ll be okay, Buck. You’ll be okay.”