retired avenger

the city's over-fucking-whelming. sounds. blaring horns. planes overhead.. the smell of exhaust mixing with a coffee shop across from a pizzeria getting ready for the day. the constant ebb and flow of thousands of people going about their day creates an endless sea of faces that he swears are all looking at him with pity and others with fear. or disgust. the ones who ignore him--wait--there aren't any of those. it's a slow building crest. the way his brain begins to work against him. first with a whisper. they're right behind you. then a nudge louder. they're coming around the corner! color, bright and vivid surrounds him amplifying the rollercoaster screams of a man who can barely take any more. ben's eyes squint in a pained expression. features tight as he stumbles past one sidewalk vendor booth after another. loading trucks. doors to restaurants and hotels swing open and closed. more people. more noise. more---he's practically ready to scream when he knocks into a figure that barely budges an inch. or that figure knocks into him.

hand swings up. half attempt to bat him away, half apology. or, least he thinks so? it's so fucking hard to think when echoes blend together into one loud NOISE!!!!! the jacket hides what the ground does not. the rattling of loose gravel. the pull of gravity shifting towards the supe causes his feet to come to a dead stop. power swells. higher. louder! all of this can end---and the only thing that pulls him back faster than the fall? BEN? in a voice that puts a face in his minds eye, the world hisses to a stop. the air's been sucked out of the atmosphere. vacuum sealed silence. muffled, he hears himself as he stares slightly up. the eyes of a wild animal who was about to attack stunned motionless. features crumple as one wrist slowly lifts, then presses into the shell of his right ear. the other stays at his side refusing to move. telltale gravel falls. ".....steve?"

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: post avengers )

STEVE'S BEEN AROUND ENHANCED PEOPLE ENOUGH TO NOTICE STRANGE SHIT. The electric charge in the air around Thor when Stark bugs him too much, for example. His eyes flicker to the gravel that moves without an apparent outside force, and the soldier in him immediately clocks the potential danger he, but also everybody around him, is in. Fingers twitch for a shield that isn't there. Then the spell is broken, and the guy moves, rubbing the side of his head. His voice sounds strange, rough after long silence, but he knows Steve's name, so—he's been right about his assumption. The gravel thing is new; at least Steve never noticed anything like that back then, but first things first.

"Yeah," he says, offering something like a smile. "Guess both of us got declared dead a little prematurely, huh?" His hand gestures down the sidewalk, the plastic bag of bagels rustling with the movement. "I live just down the block. Wanna get a coffee and some breakfast?" Even though Ben looks like he needs it, Steve's main concern is getting him off the street. He knows how staggering and overwhelming the new world can be after you've been shoved into it from one second to the next, and whatever that weird energy thing had been, it's safer if it happens again inside Steve's four walls than out here.

whole army? ben's not too sure that vought would've let them become that powerful. teetering on the brink of their own supersoldier was one thing. making an army that could rival vought's power and curb any plans they might have up their sleeve? from what ben's seen.. there are many and he's not foolish enough to think there are plenty more buried out of his knowledge. or even the knowledge of the people who think they're the top of the food chain. maybe it's better their endeavor ended with steve rogers. too many big fish in a small pond? recipe for disaster. ben listens to steve explaining the methodology behind erksine's reasoning for choosing the scrawny, little guy who had more balls than his entire brigade put together. the one who didn't break. didn't bend. didn't compromise who he was to get what he wanted. there's a pang of jealousy that hits the supe. doesn't let on. aims his gaze at his feet, seeming to watch his boots move over rough terrain. he bought and begged and had his father pull strings to get him here.

then all that effort? all that fight? all that bullshit? chalked up to cheating and being nothing more than the easy way by a man who couldn't care less about what his son went through for approval that never came. and steve? steve was chosen. because---well. look at him. even ben would agree that steve rogers? is a good person who never let that goodness become weakness. even if it sure as fuck looks like that on occasion. steve's invitation earns an uneven grin and an arched brow. "hope they survived another day, then. let's go see. first round's on me." though most places barely ask a dime of the soldiers. least til they're drunk enough to start spilling money all over the place. though ben's sure neither one of them are an easy drunk these days. they have no idea what's walking in their doors, huh? "heard you started in new york.. that true?" thumb juts to his chest. "philadelphia. used to spend a lot of time in the city." seems about as far as an outreach of small talk ben's prepared to give.. but.. hey. maybe he might surprise the famous captain america.

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: ww ii )

"BROOKLYN BORN AND RAISED." There's a hint of pride in his words. You can take the Brooklynite out of New York, but you'll never take Brooklyn out of his heart. It's one of the reasons Steve is here, after all: to ensure this war ends before it reaches the shores of his beloved town and the people inside.

"Philadelphia, huh? I've been there, too." During the USO tour, not that he wants to remember that much, since it was more of… a circus show. But despite not being that far away, Steve had never visited Philly before that. Train tickets are expensive, after all, and what could Philadelphia offer that the Big Apple doesn't have?

"It was just a short trip, but I managed to visit the Liberty Bell and the Art Museum. They have van Gogh's Sunflowers," he says reverently, his eyes getting a distant look as he remembers standing in front of that painting, breathless and in awe. "Have you ever been there?" Ben doesn't seem like it, but most people look at Steve now and don't take him for the artist, either. Steve doesn't want to make that mistake with others.

victusinveritas

WWII sketches of Victor A. Lundy (sketchbook in the Library of Congress until it is purged for depicting antifascist behavior and/or France.)

@shieldretired -- this soooo reminds me of steve.

#★ ( musings )#★ ( sketchbook )#(thank you for tagging me <3)

// 100 %!!!!

feels weird standing next to an amped up version of the ninety pound sopping wet, crippled midget that joined up in the basic vought shoved its soldiers into as if to see and prove that their trials and tests? were far more advanced and superior to what erskine and howard stark were playing around. truth be told? laying eyes on the little guy? ben felt kind of bad for him. left him alone though. something in him couldn't bring himself to pick on someone trying so fucking hard. that's what stuck out to ben. even though every fucking odd in the book was stacked against that guy? steve rogers outlasted the bulk of anyone who threw him shit. outdid them. certainly outfuckingsmarted them with that flag pole stunt. that fucking day? still sticks with the pansies that were all scrambling like idiots trying to climb that fucking thing?

ben (surprisingly) lets steve take the reins. why? because he's listening. every word. every plan. digested to file away and judge not only the kind of soldier but person steve rogers has become. they both began with throwing on dancing monkey suits for crowds. same crowds they're now leading. he would've taken a more brutal route. more force than stealth but--he'll try it this way. just once. arms cross over his chest as they walk together.

"we were both being tested. watched. judged. some sort've worthiness bullshit. or maybe that they weren't wasting their time, money and effort. vought? definitely the latter. your guy? rumor has it--he was acting like it was some honor. some heavenly gift he was bestowing on one valiant hero. to answer your question, though. yeah. you can say that was part of it.." the silence that swallows him up--the look on his face that follows? says there was much, much more to it than that.

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: ww ii )

"THEY PLANNED TO HAVE A WHOLE ARMY, not just a single guy, but Hydra killed Doctor Erskine before they could succeed, and the formula was lost without him. But it's true; he — well, he said his serum didn't just enhance the physique but everything a person is. Good and bad." Not a perfect soldier, but a good man. Steve is trying every day to live up to that, but it's hard, and it's getting increasingly harder the more atrocities he sees during missions. Sometimes, he just wants to march straight to Berlin and bash Hitler's head in for doing this to the world.

"Well, I'm glad to have you as support during this mission." A side glance shows Ben's face, and that there is more to this story than just being injected with super serum, but they don't know each other, and from what Steve learned of Ben during basic training, he isn't prone to just sharing personal stories. "Hey, you wanna grab a beer, maybe a bite to eat if they have it? There's a pub just down this street, they've been spared from the Blitz until now."

Dean barks a laugh at the idea of submitting comics as paperwork. It's tempting, though. He hates the ability of SHIELD to make any bureaucratic, and it feels like... it takes some of the life away from what hunting or saving people is. You don't do it for the pay or the paperwork.

"Well... yeah. That's why I had so many grave desecration warrants. At least the family is usually aware what I'm going to do by that point. They're the ones being haunted. It's harder with skinwalkers, to be honest. They keep the shape of the last person they mimicked. Do not recommend having to shoot yourself. Very weird existential crisis."

#invocari #★ ( v: post avengers )

"I CAN IMAGINE. Though I guess it's even worse when they take the shape of someone you love?" And then you have to kill the thing wearing your friend's face? You might know it's not your real friend, but it will still fuck with your mind. At least it would with Steve's. He dislikes mind tricks. Give him a straightforward enemy to punch, and he's all in.

Wriggling a little lower in his seat (and thus even closer to Dean), Steve returns his focus to the TV screen. "Do you know when you'll be back in the field?" Missions can come rather spontaneously for both of them, which can make planning hard. "I'd love to take another bike trip with you."

@garglemyballsack gets a starter bc I also want them in modern times ok

BY THE TIME STEVE FINISHES HIS RUN IN PROSPECT PARK, New York has awoken, and he has to fight with Wall Street men for the best bagels and a decent cup of coffee that doesn't cost a month's rent and his right kidney (looking at you, Starbucks). The sweat has dried by the time he leaves the small, local coffeeshop with his paper bag of breakfast, walking down the sidewalk toward the brownstone he's living in. Another hour, then he'll use the subway to get to work. No Mission today (probably), so they'll do some training exercises. He should definitely finish that damn report Maria is haunting him with.

Steve is so busy planning his day that he nearly knocks into what appears to be a homeless man. "Oh, I'm sorry," he says immediately. Shit, he should give the guy his breakfast; he will need it more. And a twenty for nearly running him over. Steve is already reaching into his back pocket for the money clip when he takes a closer look at the guy's face. He looks familiar. The hobo beard makes it nearly impossible to tell, and it is, quite frankly, impossible because he died, but they thought that about Steve, too. "Ben?"

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: post avengers )#(look)#(I needed this so I wrote it)

"We don't know," she agrees gently.

She knows, but she's going to let Steve have faith. He's been through so much, and he was there with Thanos. He's mourning, and he desperately doesn't want to mourn again. She'll let him hope.

"Of course, I've thought about that, Steve. I do let myself imagine good in the world with my patients. I'm as much a part of their lives as anyone else's. I always hoped Dean would find Sam, or Sam would find him. I don't like siblings being separated because of a parent. Maybe that's something good that comes of all this, hm? They finally find each other."

#invocari #★ ( v: post infinity war )

STEVE LETS HIMSELF IMAGINE THAT: Finding Dean, wrapping him in his arms, then taking the quinjet straight to where his brother is studying (or maybe even practicing law already). A family reunion. Maybe some tears because every movie shows it like that, even if Steve's personal reunion with Bucky has been quite the opposite. "Yes," he murmurs, "something good always comes from misery in the end."

They fall silent after that. Steve focuses on flying as if random obstacles could pop up any second, but it helps him keep his mind off where they are going and what they could find (or not find). Five hours later, they touch down on dead grass and corn stalks just outside an abandoned factory building. Night is slowly creeping along the horizon as they get off the jet. Steve holsters a pistol. "I don't know if what he hunted is still around. We should probably stay together."

there's two reasons why he's here. not that he was told to be. or given the order. this is a war and soldier boy is very good at going off the rails should his own gut instinct tell him off the rails is precisely where he needs to be. sure. hasn't gotten him a shit ton of brownie points with the others. doesn't take a mind reader to judge the looks on their faces when he gives them the ol' 'fuck it' pep talks. if you can call those that.

first reason? putting some more nazi fucks six feet under a shit pile or a pile of dirt he can shit on (both are a-fucking-okay in his book) is about as close to joy he can get in this fucking mess. second? as if sensing he was about to ask more questions that'd lead up to them having another issue on their hands? a nugget of information made its way into his lap. won't say how or why--but it ended up there..

..and that second reason? is what brings him walking through the door ignoring mostly everyone around him as he picks through faces he's (not desperate, never desperate) curious as hell to make out. recognize. know. there HE is. standing taller above most others. blonde cropped hair. "...steve rogers." lips purse, his head cants before sharply righting itself. "been a while.." as if they are the only two that exist in the room, green eyes level on steve and steve alone. "mind catching up while you tell me what we're doing here?" his tone says it all. the rest of these people? can go fuck themselves. he wants his information from steve. good ol' captain america!

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: ww ii )

STEVE'S EYES FLICKER TO PHILIPPS FOR A SECOND. In basic training, Ben's never been awful (aside from the generic what's the runt doing here, he'll keel over any second now), but it's not like they've been friends or even acquaintances. Steve doesn't know him, and yet he seems to have been picked by Vought for God knows what. They really need to catch up on that front. First things first, though.

"Right," he says, turning to the map table. The next two hours are spent figuring out the best approach and the best tactic, but in the end, Steve's content, or as content as you can be, knowing that a plan never survives enemy contact. He and Ben, as the super-bodied, will draw attention while the rest of the Howlies use that distraction to plant explosives all over the factory. Bucky will be their eyes and a sniper in the background.

"So," Steve says as he hands Philipps the last folded map, tugs his notes into a leather satchel, and then leads Ben out of the SSR underground headquarters. "What happened? You got some sort of super serum from Vought?"

normaltothemax

“Short for bisexual,” he responds easily. Keeps his eyes mainly on the road, only keeping tabs on Rogers through his peripherals, and that’s more out of habit than anything else. “It’s the ‘B’ in ‘LGBT’. Means I like chicks and dicks.” Really, anyone that can throw him around a little will very quickly have Clint making heart eyes at them, but he doesn’t feel the need to get into his preferred types of partners with someone that basically amounts to a total stranger. All he knows about Steve Rogers he learned from his SHIELD personnel file and a handful of comics he’d managed to scrounge up, as a kid.

That doesn’t make them friends.

Snorting, he smirks. “Oh, my god, please tell her that. Preferably when I’m around to witness it.” Not that Natasha will do anything bad in response, or negative in any way. She’ll probably continue looking as polite as ever, give him a charming smile that’s made lesser men sink to their knees and pledge their undying devotion to her, and thank him for the compliment. Call him sweet, or something. But Clint knows what to look for. Those microexpressions that’ll tell him exactly how funny she finds the statement, and it’ll give him life.

“She’ll turn up at some point, I’m sure. They’re gonna want to make sure I’m behaving myself.” He rolls his eyes. But SHIELD knows, by this point, that he’s likely to only listen to Natasha or Coulson, in regards to something he doesn’t want to do. “My job, unfortunately for the both of us, is to take you there and help you…I dunno, fuckin’ adjust naturally to the twenty-first century, or some shit. So, yeah, we’re supposed to just stay there. Don’t want the rest of the world figuring out about you, just yet.” The glint in his eyes says that whether or not they do as they’re told will depend entirely on his mood that particular day.

#normaltothemax #★ ( v: pre avengers )#(this took me half a year I'm sorry)

STEVE PUTS BISEXUALITY ON HIS MENTAL RESEARCH LIST. Maybe there's a library close to wherever they're staying, and there will be books about it? If not, this internet thing might help. The young, star-struck SHIELD technician who had given Steve his first tiny phone told him that the Google can answer every question he has. Steve doesn't think bisexuality applies to him, though. He likes women well enough, but he doesn't find them sexually arousing. He'd know; he saw them in their stockings and bras more than once during the USO tour. But he likes that Clint feels so comfortable with it. Steve hopes he'll be the same one day.

"I don't think there is anything natural about waking up almost 70 years in the future," he points out with a raised brow, "so there is no natural adjustment. Besides, they kinda blew that already by sending a SHIELD agent into my 'hospital room' –" He makes air quotes with his fingers before wrapping his arms around Lucky again "– and giving her an entirely wrong wardrobe. So…" A quick smirk. Clint Barton seems like the kind of guy who doesn't pay too close attention to what he should and shouldn't do, and he likes that. "I'd say we do whatever we want. I'd like to go to the pictures. They still have that, right? Or are theaters out of fashion, now that everyone has a television?"

Dean barks a laugh, grinning even bigger. Of all the things he thought Steve might take offense to, it wasn't the jaywalking. Desecration of the body had actually been top of the list.

"Well, y'know, it was about 2am in West Texas, so if kids saw me, they were also up to no good. The cop was clearly in a mood to try and hit his quota of something because there was fuck all to do in that part of the state. Weird place, by the way. Do not recommend by any means."

"Cops with superiority complexes are the worst, so it's fun to send them on the occasional wild goose chase as needed. He just wasn't having it with me crossing the road in a literal one streetlight sort of town.

#invocari #★ ( v: pre avengers )

"I MEAN, TEXAS ALREADY SAYS IT ALL. Wouldn't go there voluntarily, anyway," he points out with a knowing look on his face. That's probably very unpatriotic of him, but let's be real: Steve might be declared the All-American boy, but he's not a conservative Republican, and he'd rather walk than sit on a horse and catch some cows or something. He prefers his beef wrapped up in paper in the butcher's shop.

"So does that mean you'd never jaywalk a busy street or when children are present? Think about it. Your relationship with always-nice-and-legal Captain America depends on it."

relucesco

I have been witness to something. Something of consequence to you. (Too lazy to switch blogs on mobile, this is from Steve/shieldretired for Eddiiiiie and V) @shieldretired

God, he's just woken up, hasn't he? It's noon, and he squints blearily into the gleaming narrow line of sun from the cracked open door. " Yeah —— no, hi, yeah, come —— uh, sure, Steve, hi. No, I'm —— yeah. "

And while he lets him in, the symbiote partially manifests, sliding from Eddie's shoulder, remarkably chipper. [ STEVEN ! WE CAN MAKE BREAKFAST !! ]

" No, no —— do not —— make him —— you're going anyway. " A breath, trying to get his bearings, a frustrated utterance deep in his throat. " They're going anyway, " he sighs, a hand flopping. " Long night, sorry. I —— witness? " The reporter pulls up short, even as Venom is quite happily already sneaking tendrils out to rattle in cabinets. " Wait, what do you mean? "

#relucesco #★ ( v: post endgame )#(sAME)#(also sorry but This Is The Time)#(It has STARTED)#(u know his addiction)

STEVE HAS BEEN OUT AND ABOUT SINCE 6:30 AM, and he's awfully chipper when he strolls into Eddie's apartment, looking fresh-faced and awake vs. … whatever is going on with Eddie. At least V shows proper enthusiasm for his arrival.

"Something significant," Steve stresses as he hands one black tendril the coffee beans and fishes a flyer out of his pants with his other hand. He unfolds it and slams it on the kitchen table. It reads:

GRAND OPENING May 14th, 10 AM – 3 PM

Beneath that, the logo of Happy Strawberry Farm. Only Steve's grin is bigger than that of the illustrated, humanoid fruit. "You gotta drive me. I won't be able to move more than a finger when I'm done. And I need those," he points at the busy tentacles, "to help me pick as many strawberries as possible. I rely on you, V."

Bout damn time you showed up, Rogers.

"Don't stress an old man, you know our hearts can't take that anymore."

#garglemyballsack #(We got an idiom in Germany)#(“An old man is no express train”)

@garglemyballsack gets a starter

"WE'VE BEEN AT THIS FOR DAYS. THERE'S NO WAY TO DO THIS ALONE." Colonel Philipps is right, but Steve doesn't have to like it. Their biggest Hydra factory yet is in the middle of the Nazi motherland, guarded by Hydra and an SS battalion alike, and the Howling Commandos might be able to neutralize it, but there is just no way to make it back alive, and Steve isn't risking his men.

"We've got help from our friends at Vought," Philipps continues, but the way he says friends suggests they're anything but. Steve has never crossed paths with them, but he knows that Frederick Vought and Erskine have both been doing similar research. "Meaning?" he asks as Philipps walks past the map table, shoots Steve a look, and then opens the door. "I think you two know each other," he says.

Know is too hard a word, but they have been both candidates for the super serum and went through basic training, which doesn't help suppress the surprise as Steve raises his brow at the newcomer. "Benjamin."

#garglemyballsack #★ ( v: ww ii )#(so I did a starter bc that was easier for Steve than the meme fasfsafd)#(I also googled and we don't even know Benny's last name lmao)#(so sorry he's just Benjamin)#(I thought the SSR and Vought cooperate for once to take out a HUGE Hydra factory)#(in like Bavaria or something)#(and they have to work together)

He isn't expecting the hand lacing with his, but he just grins, squeezing his finger against Steve's reassuringly. It's a godsend to have some skin to skin that doesn't need to be sexual. It's what he's used to getting. He didn't know how much he needed to not fall into bed with someone.

Damnit, Rogers.

"Oh no, I get to introduce you to Men in Black, the horror," he drawls sarcastically, snorting faintly. The absolute tragedy of getting to catch Steve up on something relatively modern.

"Psh, I ain't opposed to bondage, but the red tape is fuckin' tighter than a gnat's chuff. Imagine having to fill out paperwork before you punched a nazi? After the serum, I mean. I don't want to fuckin' requisition clearance to go light a grave on fire. Just let me do the damn thing so people stop dying."

#invocari #★ ( v: post avengers )

"I HAD TO FILL OUT PAPERWORK after punching a Nazi," he reminds Dean with a look of sheer annoyance on his face. The army loved its paperwork. A form here, a list there… Though Steve supposes he can be glad he didn't have a bigger team than the handful Howlies. Imagine being responsible for a whole battalion. Shit. The paperwork.

"I think lighting a grave on fire kinda is a sensitive topic, so some form is necessary. But it shouldn't be, like, five pages and take 10 business days to process. Do it like me, though. When I'm too lazy to do paperwork for the STRIKE team, I draw a comic for Hill that details the entire mission. She still accepts them."

normaltothemax

He holds a hand out and wobbles it side to side in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “Sometimes. Mostly depends on the department, the people. Most of the STRIKE Team guys are assholes, and I wouldn’t trust ‘em as far as I can throw ‘em.” He shrugs. “You gotta remember, SHIELD’s still a spy agency. ‘s full of a lot of shady motherfuckers.”

With a wry smile, he starts scrolling through his text messages. “STRIKE Team: Delta, though…that’s where it’s at. Me, Nat, and Coulson—out of all the handlers I’ve had, he’s by far the best.” And Clint will double down on that, if the man responds to the text he just shot off by confirming he’ll have a couple pizzas delivered to them. He gives Steve a faux-serious look. “Just don’t tell him I said that. Wouldn’t want it going to his head.” Considering Clint has drunkenly professed his undying and platonic love to the man in the past, he doesn’t actually care if Steve tells him or not.