justakidfrombrklyn: http://hollow-art.com (arms crossed)


Backtagging: Yes
Threadhopping: Yes please!
Fourthwalling: Absolutely. He's been around since the 40s after all.
Offensive subjects (elaborate): Nothing specific but feel free to contact me if you're feeling uncomfortable or worried.



Physical Description: A tall, well built white man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a body that brings to mind a dorito when it comes to shoulder to waist ratio.
General Demeanor/Presence: Steve moves with purpose and a strange sort of grace, almost like a dancer, and his fighting style maintains this even if it is utterly brutal.
Pertinent Medical Information: He's a supersoldier, so he heals super fast, has no allergies, is immune to a lot of things, and generally is physical perfection as far as human beings go.
Personal Belongings: He'll always have his shield with him. Always. Otherwise, whatever he's wearing at the time, a small notebook and pen, and his mp3 player.
Current CALL Device Designation: HERO
Mentor/Journeyman/Student: JOURNEYMAN
Residence/Business: None as of yet.
Powers/Skills: Captain America's powers and abilities


Hugging this character: Yes please!
Kissing this character: Yes please!
Flirting with this character: Yes please!
Fighting with this character: Yes please!
Injuring this character (include limits and severity): Let's go for it! Anything maiming and up, please discuss with me first!
Killing this character: No thanks! Though can be persuaded with discussion.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: Go for it.
Using magic/mystical abilities on this character: Go for it.

Warnings: None.
Other Notes: Not really!
justakidfrombrklyn: (Default)

text | audio | video | etc.

justakidfrombrklyn: (dragon steeb)
The thing about dragons is... you only get one. For good or ill, for better or worse, the little creature who crawls out of the hatchery and decides you two are meant for each other is the one who gets first, last, and final say on the matter. That was why any number of military officials, who had seen lots of good things to come for one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, were more than a little disappointed when the tiny, brightly colored runt of the litter made its way proudly over to the man's foot and plopped its tiny body right there on it, claiming him before God, man, and every other dragon on the grounds. Its breath was wheezing even as it shoved it's head up against the man's ankle and anyone with eyes could see that his weak wings might never actually be able to take flight, but that tail wrapped tight around his other ankle and it was clear it was worth someone's hand if they tried to remove him.
justakidfrombrklyn: http://hollow-art.com (man on the silver screen)
To say that a lot of things had changed once he'd come out of the ice wasn't just an understatement; it was practically cruel. The worst part in a lot of ways, though, was the way people treated him: as if the ice had preserved him, kept him exactly as he'd been when he'd sent the plane crash landing into the Atlantic.

It couldn't be further from the truth, though.

He'd died. The water had rushed in, the cold had soaked into his bones, the ice had taken over and he'd died and he'd felt it as he'd died. He'd felt the cold, woken up a dozen times stuck in the ice, unable to move and let it consume him, again and again. He still had nightmares about it, nightmares he didn't share because they were so ridiculous in some ways, debilitating in others.

And then there were the headaches.

He only got them occasionally, a strange buzz beginning behind his eyes and around, his eyes shifting unbidden as if he could find the cause for something that was going on inside his own head. And yet, sometimes it really felt like he could. He'd look around, the feeling exploding inside his skull, and he'd suddenly meet eyes with someone and the feeling would suddenly vanish. Usually, the person in question would blink at him and rush off, which was fair since one of the cardinal rules of walking around a large city was to avoid eye contact unless necessary. He didn't think too much about it until he went back to Europe, back at war again in his search for his lost... friend...

Which was when the buzzing headaches started to get far more frequent.

Sam, the finest companion a man could ask for, had decided to follow a lead in Madrid that Natasha had sent their way (one that would have been set off badly had Captain America's well-known mug shown up) which had left Steve enjoying the sights and snooping around Paris for the time being. Thankfully, there was a lot to see, a lot to investigate, but also... a lot to draw.

Beautiful things to draw.

He was halfway through sketching out a panel of the Arc De Triomph when he felt it there, head lifting from the paper to try and find the 'cause'. This was getting mildly ridiculous...


Apr. 14th, 2014 11:49 pm
justakidfrombrklyn: (Default)
Leave a note here as you like!
justakidfrombrklyn: (puppyface)
He doesn't really have a phone anymore, at least not one that isn't a burner on the end of it's life, and that phone never had the number he needed in it, so he didn't call ahead. Instead, he's just there, heading for the front desk to see if perhaps, just maybe, he has a friend here. Or at least an ally.

"Steve Rogers for Tony Stark, please?"


justakidfrombrklyn: (Default)

May 2016

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