“I’ve been thinking-” Never a good sign where ‘ALIEN CONQUERORS’ were concerned. She knew, however, that THE SOLDIER OF TRUTH AND JUSTICE wouldn’t deny her her right to free thought, or whatever the first amendment guaranteed her.
“This is, quite possibly, the worst team-up imaginable.” Mind you, she said all of this while gearing herself up! Side-arm affixed to her waist, plasma-cutter tested and held aloft (as if she were attempting to cut through the captain with it.), she looked as if she were ready for WARFARE… and that was the problem, wasn’t it?
“You’re a good man, Captain. Taking part in this S.W.O.R.D. experiment as you are, but… what makes you think I won’t betray you once we leave this safe space?”
★— EQUIPPED WITH HIS OWN weaponry, mainly for defence; his energy shield slipped under his sleeve in the form of a silver cuff that could be activated with ease. It was better to be safe than sorry, and considering where he was —- TRUST would surely be an issue, so keeping his guard up was the best course of action. The energy shield was an extra precaution, his mains hield was his main defence – and that was strapped to his back.
They were both meant to be keeping this low-key, but it seemed as though they were both ready to charge into battle. Fortunately, some guising tech may come in handy – with a flick of a wrist it would make it seem like they were somewhat incognito.
❛I realise that you can quite easily do that —- but I like to think the best of people, you included. If you betray me, then you’ll see what happens.But for now shall we focus on getting this done? Keep our heads in the game, and focus on one thing at a time. Or is betraying me going to be on your mind throughout? ·❜
Yeah, Rogers. Wake up. Fight it, beat against the walls of your perception until you grow tired. Until you grow WEARY and WEAK. When you’re too tired to fight, when your soul is drained of that… CUTE soldier’s resolve, she’ll free you. One way or another, she’ll set you free.
“A mansion?” Head cant to the side, words offered to her recorder. “Likely an axis safehouse. The Avengers ah… Code, no doubt. Should be brought up before the codebreakers in Washington. He-” Ooh, she could see that. That wee shift in the set of the eyes, the distance of the shoulder blades.
She was wearing him DOWN. Brick by brick, the fortress he’d constructed about his very SOUL was coming down. She stepped closer to his cage. It was like watching an animal caught in a snare. Freedom was elusive, death was all it could know… Death or the loss of a limb. She so hoped he started gnawing at his arm to get free. Manic and improbable, but it would bring her SUCH joy.
His immediate reaction, two VIOLENT strikes to the surface between them? It threw ‘Esmé’ back in a shock. “S-Subject’s delusions drive him to fits of v-VIOLENCE. An imbalance in the formula likely overproducing adrenaline, stress hormones and catecholamine. Recommend immediate lob-” BOOM.
The explosion, likely crashing within camp borders, shook Esmé off her feet. Sent her to the floor, yet didn’t immobilize her. Scrambling to the door, she locked the room, killed the lights and… and armed herself with the service pistol er superiors saw fit to give her. In case he broke out.
“They’re not going to break you out. Your… Your friends? Fighting MY friends out there, they will NOT get you out. Even if I have to…” Hammer cocked. She… She wouldn’t let them.
★— His mind was in DISARRAY, frantically trying to piece together what was REAL and what was a D R E A M. The question crossed his mind; was his mind being TAMPERED with like it had before? Strange had delved into he depths of his mind and plucked memories as though they were apples from a tree – had this happened again? In fact, as the explanation furthered – was Strange even real? Was what had happened real? The line between fiction and reality became less and less clear by the moment — was it A L L a dream – had he merely fallen asleep and this was DREAM? Again, perpetually the thoughts began circulating, a never ending circle of questions spiralling in his mind. As much as he tried to reach an ANSWER – it seemed that it brought more and more questions to his mind and in turn, pushed he answer far out of his grasp.
How his head POUNDED, his fists pushed down on the surface beneath them – even still, trying to sort through his own HEAD, he could still HEAR her call him violent, and that in itself forced him to recoil and withdraw his hands back to their sides – he couldn’t afford to give her ammo to use against him, no, he couldn’t let this nightmare be REAL.
Just as he withdrew there was an EXPLOSION– which was enough to send her to the ground, upon reflex he stood, knees bent to retain his balance. She F E L L so it was his time to break out of there and find out the TRUTH that he felt was behind the door that she was guarding.
As he made a RUN for it, forcing his legs forward, hand reaching for the handle he heard the distinct CLICK of the hammer – the safety was pulled back and the bullet rest in the chamber with his NAME on it.
Steve froze in his steps, glancing over his shoulder. Even from the sound alone he could tell what gun it was – and that WASN’T something from the 1940′s.
❛I’m going to ask you again – Where am I and who are you?
❜
OH SHIT, IS IT COMPLIMENT STEVE TIME!? So, your Captain America is the Bee's Knees. I've never understood why that phrase was positive or endearing, but it just is. Your Steve I can't understand why your portrayal is so positive or endearing or unique, but it IS. It's this wonderful amalgam of patriotism, a sort of paternal figure, but also a human. Undeniably human, it's a real person I see when you write things. The most important part of any characterization, the humanity. You crush it.
anonymously tell me what you think of my character portrayal. i can’t respond; i can only publish.
She’d already established the shivering as a staple of her character, she was rather glad for that master stroke. Otherwise the sensations that ran here and there along her spine would give her away. The human mind was so… so beautiful, it’s neurons and chemicals were- She hadn’t the time to delve into the artistic value of shattering a human’s psyche. Not just yet, her audience would have to wait.
“Patient has no recollection of Post-Transformation fury or his ah… transgressions. Suggests some lasting trauma to the brain, perhaps constriction of airflow due to…” A hesitant, surveying glance at the subject’s ‘newly found’ physique. “…his scientific advancements.”
Words spoken to the ticking and whirring dictation recorder large enough to commit manslaughter with. Not that she’d considered such an event, of course. The folder was closed, deposited alongside the recorder to give the soldier a moment’s reprieve. Too much incited shock, oxygen was needed, it brought reality in that it might be shattered once more.
Another deep inhale, clear her thoughts, find ‘Esme Erskine’s’ in the pool of identities assumed, bring her back to the forefront. Hmm. A death in the family.
“Mr. Rogers, You killed-” Throat cleared. Nerves. “-Dr. Erskine died three days ago. We’ve kept his passing out of the papers as best w-. Have you been…. Have you been experiencing delusions?” Reinforce the fault in his reality’s composition. “You really can’t remember it can you?”
Mournful. Upset.. How dare he rob this world of a visionary and then be b l e s s e d enough not to remember the heinous deed. Who above was watching him so carefully that he should have so fortuitous a life?
“I- You took my father from me and you can’t even-” Sob. Muffled by a once pristine polar uniform, it was important to offset the balance with a ‘guided’ influence. What better way than an innocent mourning her loss of both a father and proper revenge?
“You BASTARD!” Outburst. “I- I…” What she was building to, the Captain might never know. Instead, her sorrows were drowned out by a klaxon of great significance. Camp Lehigh was under attack. What a day.
★— Oh how l o s t he was, how INNOCENT of a mind to believe the lies that were being fed to him, having complete and utter faith that this was NOT a dream. His heart was pounding, body trembling with anxiety that seemed to sink as deep as his BONES. The whole sense of waking up in an unfamiliar environment was no longer a foreign concept, but distinguishing what was R E A L I T Y was, but no matter how many times he went through the experience his mind never seemed to recover fully from the trauma.
He could see her talking into a tape recorder. It was bizarre,
waking up in a world where technology was advanced only to
fall to sleep and wake up in the past again, but there he was,
taking in the sight of the dark brown tape spinning in a clunky
looking machine.
“N-no… The last thing that I remember? Well I was back at the mansion with the others, we were going to go on a mission, me and the other Avengers…” He started before he stopped himself from carrying on. His words were shaky, unsure. Suddenly the mind started to doubt itself; it was a SUNNY day in NYC when he’d left, the birds were singing, the sun was shining, he was with his FRIENDS… Was it all a dream? Had he been dreaming? No, it couldn’t have been, his time with his team was filled with pain, agony and soon after; recovery.
His chest heaved, in and out. But no matter how much he
B R E A T H E D his chest still felt as though a belt were
wrapped around it, he felt so CONSTRICTED. He was
just trying ever so deeply to find some sort of peace, some
calmness, but the words she uttered caused his azures to
widen sharply, sharper than before, pupils constricted in a
sea of blue.
“No…” He breathed. “No, that’s not TRUE. I didn’t kill him, I DIDN’T!” He shot up, slamming his palms on the table as hard as he could. The Doctor had given him life, given him a new PURPOSE and to even be accused of such a crime made his gut T W I S T. He couldn’t remember the doctor having a daughter, this was all news to him…
No this had to be a nightmare.
He’d wake up and be safe and sound in the mansion.
★— “Friendly casualty? Now this is hard– depends what you mean really. There could be multiple meanings behind it - one being the first time I’ve ever accidentally performed what we call Friendly Fire, which means I’ve hurt a comrade of mine in battle. The first time THAT ever happened was when I was given my first dose of gun training back in camp Lehigh. Now as some of you might now, I’m not too partial about arms, never liked ‘em. There’s ANOTHER reason why - S’pose when I was trainin’ I was just gettin’ used to things, being aware I was previously a frail fella that didn’t really get a dose of toyin’ with weapons. So I didn’t EXPECT the recoil from my first shoot, I was told to be ready for somethin’ but when I first fired, my elbow went FLYIN’ back and I ended up smackin’ my instructor in the face and broke the poor fellas nose… I suppose that COUNTS? Right?”
“Okay and now for the second meaning, so the second meanin’ I got is when someone on your team gets injured, one of your friends. S’pose the first time it was Junior, back when he was stationed with us rather on lookout duty. The guy was a TWIG, it was a wonder he passed basic. He was the youngest of the Commandos, a young lad that thought drinkin’ would put more hair on his chest yet the first shot of whiskey he got he’d be rollin’ on the floor. Anyway, he was a GREAT lookout, a great scout with eyes as sharp as a hawk. With our numbers short, we decided to bring him along with us to infiltrate a HYDRA base in the mountains. Sure, we were well equipped, prepared to perfection for most things. The second the Junior slipped through the door (second to Gabe) we heard the loudest yelp and the boy came out runnin’ and screamin’. Now as I said, we were prepared for MOST things - but in this case, we WEREN’T prepared for Hydra agents with FLAMETHROWERS, barrelin’ our way in tens. I’d never heard anyone shreikin’ like that in my life - it was the LOUDEST thing. He ran and dived face first into the snow, but lord, I could never get the smell of burnin’ hair outta my system, even to this day it makes me cringe. I ran over to see burns and scars decoratin’ him, it was the saddest sight. The most innocent fella I knew was charred up, now I’d seen guys with bullets in ‘em before, boys cluttering the infirmary, but this was the first time I had bared witness to such a TRAGIC incident. It made me feel sick, it made my knees feel weak and all I could hear was a ringin’ in my ear. Luckily Junior was fine, they just patched him up, but seein’ someone you care about get HURT really does somethin’ to you. Let’s just say I didn’t leave Juniors side until he was well again. As the Captain, I couldn’t help but feel accountable. It’s not just a title, it’s the RESPONSIBILITY.”
Hand raised to the man’s forehead, she clocked the point of respect and allowed her stance to fall from it’s admirable configuration. Civility was important, she would not have it be said that she was as a lout in the face of her betters.
“The will of the cosmos brought me to your planet. Near twin decades spent adrift in time and space. I am grateful for your planet’s shameful attempt at hospitality…”
Spoken from behind a near-lethal energy wall that she hadn’t been on the opposing side of in… months? Weeks? Time held true to it’s roots of ‘illusionary’ these days.
★— He couldn’t help but exhale a snort at the fact that HIS planet was called shameful, yet when he’d been thrown to other planets, especially given his work alongside the Nova Corps, he’d been usually thrown into shackles or forced to evade the locals, and yet the irony of his planet being deemed less hospitable made him think – but drawing his mind away from his thoughts he shook his head.
“I wouldn’t call it shameful.” He vocalised. “Call it precautionary.”
A fist to her chest in a show of respect. One soldier to another, his legend was vast. “Ana’Hira S’Byll-Breed of the former Throneworld. Cosmic-Skrull, Royal Imperative. Despite my captor’s opinions on me, I am honored to meet you, sir.”
★— His eyes scanned her with SCRUTINY, though internally he told himself not to judge a book by its cover, SKRULLS were another story entirely. Regardless, he gave her a light salute, rather than a forced movement, his guard remained high, on edge.
“Commander Steve Rogers… So what brings you to Earth?”
Steve Rogers was your average kid, a who had nothing. He grew up during the great depression which resulted in him later on having a great value for everything that he now receives. He was meek as a child and was constantly bullied for his small size, that added to the fact that he had an extremely poor immune system and was diagnosed with every ailment and illness under the sun. Instead he continued with his education, specialising in arts where he constantly depicted himself as a super-hero, or drew heroes that could help save him.
After his mother (Sarah) passed away he faced a severe depression which he masked by engulfing himself in his pursuit of achieving his dream; joining the army and following in the footsteps of his father (Joseph).
He was constantly rejected. Time after time due to his small stature until he was taken on board project ‘rebirth’ where with the assistance of Howard Stark’s technology and Dr Josef Reinstien – he was turned into a super soldier. Initially he was a poster boy, being used for marketing campaigns by the US army in order to encourage recruitment as well as help improve the general PR image.
Breaking the rules and letting his complex get in the way, he decided to take down US’s number one enemy at the time – the Red Skull.
It was during a fight with Baron Zemo - that he had lost his best friend, Bucky Barnes in a tragic fall when the boy wonder was strapped to a rocket. Steve watched the rocket explode and that image had forever haunted his nightmares.
Taking down the Red Skull, he managed to save the country – however, it involved extreme self sacrifice as he steered the plane he was in into the sea. Luckily enough, it was preserved in ice as the sub-zero conditions froze Steve in a block of ice for a number of decades. The super-soldier serum is what had kept him alive all this time, preserved in ice until eventually he was thawed free – waking up, confused, dazed and delusional.
This is a largely 616 blog. Please ask if you want to RP MCU! - if you want to RP MCU you have one of two choices; either I will switch to MCU to suit you if you’re more comfortable with that OR we can do an alternate version where 616 meets your MCU.
All smut and gore will be tagged as NSFW or TW: Gore
Please be aware I’ve got one main trigger – Self Harm, if you could please tag themed posts with tw: self harm, I’d really appreciate it!
Feel free to thread
Do not expect instantaneous replies
Please remind me if I haven’t replied to our thread within a week.
Ship hate and bashing will not be tolerated.
Please have fun while threading! If you have ideas I would love to hear them.
Mun has been roleplaying as Steve Rogers for 4 years now. This is a reboot account after a hiatus.
IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE A THREAD FROM AN ASK: please create a new thread and tag me. I will NOT continue asks that have been reblogged - it just makes things easier for the both of us!
I will drop your thread if I believe that you are godmodding / becoming a Gary/Mary sue.
I will assume your character knows little of mine or hasn’t met unless they have in the comics
ASKS: If you wish to continue a thread that has spawned from an ask meme, PLEASE create a new thread and tag me in it, rather than reblogging the ask! I just feel it messes up formatting and looks a bit clustered.
Please see my EXCLUSIVITY page for particular character exclusivity before interacting! I’m not exclusive on many characters but there’s just a handful that have sentimental value to me!
In terms of shipping, I am open minded and will usually provide your muse with a verse of their own. But please note, while I play Steve as bisexual I do NOT ship Steve and Bucky in any universe, please respect that and ensure that your ships are tagged and I’ll do the same. I usually tag anything to do with Tony/Steve as otp: you gave me a home.
