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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
styofa doing anything
RMH
todays bird
Monterey Bay Aquarium
$LAYYYTER
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d e v o n
Keni
blake kathryn
Sweet Seals For You, Always
almost home
titsay
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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roma★
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ojovivo
seen from United States
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@theicecap-blog
disturbing lack of trans boy steve rogers headcanons given his story could literally be used as a transition metaphor and his transition is what most people would focus on but that’s not who he is he’s the same person he’s always been and that’s the point
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Steve’s smile turns somber as he listens attentively. He knows the feeling all too well—and knows that, probably, Carol has faced worse than he ever had.
"It is hard," he says, first and foremost. "It gets really, really hard sometimes, but…"
He sighs, sitting back and trying to gather his thoughts.
"I try to keep in mind that the voices that matter the most are the voices that I’m not hearing. People who deserve to be heard, people like us, and their friends…they don’t have the resources to get heard, or are scared—and with good reason to be." He laughs, humorlessly, smile turning to a grimace.
"But…they’re there. I’ve talked to so many people who…who want me to keep going. So I try to remind myself that just because someone is loud and drowns out everyone else doesn’t mean they’re the only one out there."
He glances back at her, a self-conscious smile on his face.
"I’m sorry. Did that make any sense at all?"
Carol wipes her eyes in case they betray her and water. Crying is really hard in front of others. “Yeah, yeah it did. We’ve got so many kids who won’t ever go much further than their homeland’s borders who need us.” She forces a small smile.
"And we might never meet a lot of them - of us. There’s that many of us!" It’s both comforting and bitter to consider all the multitudes of trans people all over the world who Carol will never ever meet.
Steve nods, smiling. It looks like he's provided at least a small comfort to his friend, and that's all he can ask for.
"Maybe we could go talk to them sometime. Make an 'appearance,' I guess." He qualifies this with air quotes. "There are conventions that attract a lot of trans attendees, I think. It might be...fun. Or at least fulfilling."
He isn't really sure how many people would be at such a convention. If there's a lot, then...well, he'd be willing to make a small sacrifice if it meant reaching that meany people who need him.
"Ah, well," Steve says, half-grinning. "You probably should be sleeping, if you want that to heal up.” Not that Bucky wouldn’t be fully recovered in roundabouts a week, anyways. Steve doesn’t know to what extent, but he’s pretty sure they ended up with some super healing abilities somewhere along the line.
He really isn’t too keen on putting that to the test, though.
"Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?" they grumble. Right now sleep sounds about as much fun as swimming in shark-infested waters, given the nightmares they’re likely to have. Given the kind of day it’s been and how they feel now, it’s bound to be that kind of night.
But of course they can’t just say that; Steve will start fretting, he can’t help it, and they really just want some company, not to be fussed over.
Plus, they get the feeling maybe Steve could use the company too. At least they hope so.
Steve shrugs, smiling, trying to keep the tone playful. He knows what it's like to not want to fall asleep, though, and it somehow doesn't seem fair that Bucky has to go through that, too. If there was just some way to help them, but...well, dreams aren't anything even a superhero can deal with.
...most superheros. Considering the type of company Steve keeps, he may be able to reach out and find someone who could help. He'll have to keep that in mind.
"Maybe if you were a little more careful, you wouldn't need to be stuck in bed," he says, raising an eyebrow. He knows this is an argument they've had hundreds of times before, but familiarity isn't always a bad thing.
Steve watched Bucky come closer. He could tell that his friend wasn’t entirely sure about what he was doing, but he appreciated the effort.
Though, he also felt a little guilty that he had ended up putting Bucky in this situation in the first place. After all, he still wasn’t…well. Steve wasn’t entirely sure how well he was…recovering.
"I’m not sure there’s anything to talk about," he said, averting his eyes and shrugging. Nothing he hadn’t already talked into the ground with other people, and that hadn’t seemed to help yet.
He took a small step closer to Bucky, but stopped sort of placing a hand on him.
"I’m glad you’re back, you know."
Barnes bit his lip at the aversion, the only outward tell of frustration he was going to show. Like hell there was nothing to talk about, Steve was just going to refuse to say anything more. Despite that, Barnes didn’t protest again, allowing Steve to divert the conversation, even if it did make him slightly uneasy.
As Steve moved closer, Barnes did his best not to back away. He knew there was no reason to fear Steve, but the urge to shy away was still there. Again, he wasn’t sure what to say to Steve, so he nodded in acknowledgement, pursing his lips. “…I’m not going to run away,” he assured, catching Steve’s eyes with his own.
He hadn’t felt like he had been gone long, but he often lost time. It was entirely possible he spent longer on the roof than he thought. And Steve was rightfully jumpy about his disappearances, he had a habit of disappearing for days without saying anything. He had been getting better about it lately, though. Instead of dropping off the face of the Earth for days, he left for a few hours.
Steve smiled, though it wasn't entirely joyful. "That's good to hear," he said. It was good to hear, but he couldn't entirely believe it. This Bucky was...well, Bucky was Bucky, but he wasn't close to Steve anymore. At least not like it used to be. Steve hoped--with all his heart, he hoped--that they would be able to repair that connection, but if that wasn't what Bucky wanted, then there was nothing keeping him there.
"Why do you go out on your own so much?" he asked, and then grimaced as it came out more accusatory than he intended. "I mean--it's fine, of course, it's just..." he shrugged slightly. "Being out alone in a city like this is pretty overwhelming, to me. Is it different for you?"
Steve stepped into the elevator, raising an eyebrow at Bruce. “If you really want to, we can bring back a pizza or two,” he said, not really sure why Bruce was worried. But, he supposed bringing back food was the polite thing to do, especially if you live in a tower full of people who often forget to eat.
"Are you worried about JARVIS doing something bad?" he asked. He himself was still slightly wary of the system, but he had always attributed that to his being unfamiliar with technology. Not distrustful, per say, just…unfamiliar.
"Let me put it this way," Bruce began. "If Tony wanted to, he could have JARVIS send an email to the entire city containing everything you’ve ever googled and every selfie you’ve taken, including the ones you deleted."
Bruce looked over at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction, and then continued.
"The government, aside from SHIELD, doesn’t know the extent of JARVIS’s abilities. If they did, they would put Tony much higher on the FBI’s watch list than he already is. I don’t even know the extent of JARVIS’s abilities.”
When the elevator stopped, Bruce stepped out, looking over his shoulder as he talked.
"That said, I don’t worry about JARVIS. I worry about Tony."
Steve nodded slowly at Bruce's explanation, expression thoughtful. Truthfully, the points in the description didn't frighten him all that much. There wasn't anything he'd put on a camera that he wouldn't want the public to know about, and all his google searches would reveal is that he's painfully ignorant of a lot of things that happened in the last half a century. Not exactly anything surprising.
He did, however, know that there were security cameras all over the tower. That would worry him. It's not that Captain America didn't have anything to hide--it's that he was good at hiding it.
"He can be a little..." Steve tried to find the right word. "He doesn't make the best decisions all the time," he settled on. "But I'd hope he wouldn't do something that drastic."
Steve desperately trying to high five Bucky in Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Captains Marvel and America, black and white.
I’m much more comfortable with ink wash rather than color.
I am looking for qualities beyond the physical.
"It’s no trouble if you want to talk about something," Steve says, smiling. "It’s not like we’re doing much else, right?" It’s hard to find the right balance between polite and insistent. He doesn’t want to pressure her if she really doesn’t want to talk about it.
"I guess we don’t have to, though."
"It’s just-I don’t know." She sighs. “How do you do it? How do you make yourself care about a world that degrades you, calls you such awful things, that reduces all your hard work to the fact you weren’t born the gender you present as?”
Carol pauses for a moment to regroup her thoughts. "I mean, it’s not the same off planet, and maybe I’m expecting too much from our people because of that. It just gets so hard to protect this place sometimes."
Steve's smile turns somber as he listens attentively. He knows the feeling all too well--and knows that, probably, Carol has faced worse than he ever had.
"It is hard," he says, first and foremost. "It gets really, really hard sometimes, but..."
He sighs, sitting back and trying to gather his thoughts.
"I try to keep in mind that the voices that matter the most are the voices that I'm not hearing. People who deserve to be heard, people like us, and their friends...they don't have the resources to get heard, or are scared--and with good reason to be." He laughs, humorlessly, smile turning to a grimace.
"But...they're there. I've talked to so many people who...who want me to keep going. So I try to remind myself that just because someone is loud and drowns out everyone else doesn't mean they're the only one out there."
He glances back at her, a self-conscious smile on his face.
"I'm sorry. Did that make any sense at all?"
‘Stay.. please.’
Steve stops in the doorway, only barely hearing his friend’s voice. He turns back to them and steps inside the room again, setting his thrown-together first aid kit on Bucky’s bedside table.
"C’mon Bucky, you’re not worried about that, are you? It’s just a scratch, you’ll be fine," he teased, even as he pulled up a chair to take his place at their bedside. He knew it was probably something else that was bothering them, but he wasn’t going to press if they didn’t want to talk about it.
"I’ve had worse," they joke. It’s true, but it’s funny because some of the injuries they’ve had have been pretty awful. Definitely worse than a few stitches. "Neither of us are going to sleep, though. Might as well."
They relax when Steve sits down, let their guard down a little in the way you can when you know someone else is there to watch your back. But also, it’s Steve. They feel better when he’s around.
"Ah, well," Steve says, half-grinning. "You probably should be sleeping, if you want that to heal up." Not that Bucky wouldn't be fully recovered in roundabouts a week, anyways. Steve doesn't know to what extent, but he's pretty sure they ended up with some super healing abilities somewhere along the line.
He really isn't too keen on putting that to the test, though.
Steve dropped his smiling façade at Bucky’s question. Right—he wasn’t sure why he thought he could get him to let him be. Avoidance was basically just habit at this point, he supposed.
"…nothing," he said, corner of his mouth twitching up at the echoed response. "It was just…"
His mind tries to go back to the thoughts it had been occupied with a few minutes ago, and he quickly stops it, focusing on the figure in front of him instead.
"I just got lost in thought, I guess."
For some reason, the not smiling Steve put Barnes more at ease; there was more truth in it. He still wasn’t sure what to do, however, still hovering in the doorway, more leaning against it and scrutinizing Steve. Making a decision, he came farther into the room, uncrossing his arms and loosening his posture.
“Do you… do you want to talk about it?” he asked, once he felt he was sufficiently and comfortably in the room, but still not too close to Steve.
He thought this was the proper thing to do, or at least he hoped it was.
Steve watched Bucky come closer. He could tell that his friend wasn't entirely sure about what he was doing, but he appreciated the effort.
Though, he also felt a little guilty that he had ended up putting Bucky in this situation in the first place. After all, he still wasn't...well. Steve wasn't entirely sure how well he was...recovering.
"I'm not sure there's anything to talk about," he said, averting his eyes and shrugging. Nothing he hadn't already talked into the ground with other people, and that hadn't seemed to help yet.
He took a small step closer to Bucky, but stopped sort of placing a hand on him.
"I'm glad you're back, you know."
Captain America thinks you should vaccinate your damned kids.
send a ♞ to my inbox
and i’ll generate a random sentence from this generator for my muse to say to yours
Steve followed him, frowning slightly. “Well, as long as no one’s nosy…” New Yorkers were usually pretty good about superheros, since they were so…well, desensitized. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t usually at least one person at a restaurant who just had to talk to you.
"We can always say it was terrible," he said, humor coming back to him. "It’s our moral-bound duty to protect our teammates from terrible pizza, don’t you think?"
Bruce led the way to the elevator. “I mean, if you’re not terrified of Natasha, I suppose we could do that, but I tend to be a little wary of her.”
He laughed uneasily. ”Though I suppose I’d be more worried about Tony finding out we got pizza without him, considering he is the only one who really understands how JARVIS works, and JARVIS controls everything in the Tower.”
He shivered just thinking about it. They wouldn’t find anything extremely incriminating in his personal files, but he would prefer that the terabyte of illegal movie downloads—750 gigabytes of which being animated films—stayed out of common knowledge.
Steve stepped into the elevator, raising an eyebrow at Bruce. "If you really want to, we can bring back a pizza or two," he said, not really sure why Bruce was worried. But, he supposed bringing back food was the polite thing to do, especially if you live in a tower full of people who often forget to eat.
"Are you worried about JARVIS doing something bad?" he asked. He himself was still slightly wary of the system, but he had always attributed that to his being unfamiliar with technology. Not distrustful, per say, just...unfamiliar.
"It’s kind of small, I hardly noticed it was gone myself," Steve said, leaning over slightly to watch Clint put in his code. Right—he’d have to remember that. He stepped in at the invitation, and looked around. Jeez, he wasn’t lying when he said it was a mess. Maybe it was just the contrast between how immaculate (empty) Steve’s own place was, but…
"Um," he went. "It’s a photograph. About this big." He held his fingers up to indicate an inch or two. "I’m not really…sure where I lost it. Um…but it doesn’t hurt to look, right?"
"Oh man. It is small." Clint squinted and made a weird face. "Ummm… if its a photograph maybe we should start like on the fridge or counters or something, places where small things might’ve been hung up. Does that sound good?"
He paused again. “What does the photo look like anyways? Like, do you remember the colors in the photo, or maybe who or what it’s of?”
Steve nodded at Clint's suggestion, mind working on other things than completely listening to this conversation. Like, for example, how to get out of this situation now that he got what he needed without seeming extremely suspicious.
He blushed slightly at the next question. His mind automatically went to something he did, in fact, keep in his wallet, but he wasn't keen to admit he had it.
"It's black and white," he said. "Um. A portrait...do you keep a lot of black and white photos?"
‘Stay.. please.’
Steve stops in the doorway, only barely hearing his friend's voice. He turns back to them and steps inside the room again, setting his thrown-together first aid kit on Bucky's bedside table.
"C'mon Bucky, you're not worried about that, are you? It's just a scratch, you'll be fine," he teased, even as he pulled up a chair to take his place at their bedside. He knew it was probably something else that was bothering them, but he wasn't going to press if they didn't want to talk about it.
